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Life Lately on the Homestead: Goats, Chickens, and a Sleep-Deprived Mom
If you’ve ever wondered what it’s like to live on a homestead, imagine a reality TV show that’s part Duck Dynasty, part Animal Planet, and part Survivor — but without the million-dollar prize at the end. Things have been… let’s call it energetic around here. Charles: The Goat Who Refuses to Goat Charles, our bottle…
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🧠 Visuals Matter, Y’all. Especially Before Coffee.
It’s 9:30 AM and I’m already about three decibels away from turning into a full-blown velociraptor. 🦖 Enter: The Behavior Chart. Aka, my sanity saver. Aka, “the chart of consequences and miracles.” My twins are spicy little creatures with a flair for chaos and a deep commitment to testing boundaries before I’ve even had breakfast.…
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The Tooth Fairy, Gold Coins and Mild Parental Theft
Ah, the magic of childhood. Losing teeth is one of those strangely thrilling milestones that feels like a mix of a medical event, a rite of passage, and a glitter-filled celebration. The wiggle. The drama. The blood. (Seriously, why is there always SO much blood?) And then there’s that triumphant moment when your kid holds…
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Life Lesson #47 from the Homestead: Goats, Poop, and Blueberries (?)
So today my son Skylar had his first up-close-and-personal encounter with goat poop. 🐐💩 And y’all… the moment was nothing short of magical. And mildly traumatic. But mostly magical. There he was, standing in awe, just living his best farm-kid life, when Gina decided it was time to… lighten the load. Right in front of…
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How I Accidentally Started a Goat Cult in My Backyard: A Love Story in Screams and Headbutts
It all started so innocently. Just one goat, I said. A modest beginning. A peaceful, pastoral moment. I had it all planned: one sweet 9-month-old mama goat and her tiny, squishy 16-day-old buckling. That’s it. Simple. Reasonable. Responsible. HAHAHAHA. That was Day One. By Day Two, I was waking my poor, unsuspecting mother up before the sun had…
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It’s Not My Time… and That’s Okay
Let’s just get this out of the way— It’s not my time for a clean house. Not my time for perfectly polished nails or relaxing massages. Not my time for laundry that’s folded neatly before it turns into a damp science experiment. But you know what it is my time for? It’s my time for…
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Settling In, Sorta… Kinda… Not Really
We’ve officially landed in our new home. Not like a graceful plane landing, but more like a bumpy emergency landing with a baby pig on board and at least one bag of snacks spilling mid-turbulence. Are we “settled”? Define settled, please. Still Hauling, Still Hoping Let’s start with the obvious: we’re still moving. Not like…
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We Moved! It Was Wet, Wild, and My IKEA Desk Didn’t Make It
Well, We’re Here… Technically We moved. Which sounds simple enough until I tell you it was pouring, hailing, and the only thing more slippery than the Tommy gate on that moving truck was my last shred of sanity. But hey—when you’ve got a herd of family members ready to tackle it like a full-contact sport,…
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Moving Mayhem: Neurodivergent Twins, One-Handed Packing, and That One McDonald’s Toy
We’re moving. And no, I don’t want to talk about it.Unless you’re bringing snacks and muscle. Preferably both. Right now, my life is a chaotic swirl of cardboard boxes, random socks, loud emotions, and the occasional chicken that absolutely does not want to stay in her coop. And the kicker? I’m doing it all with one functioning hand.…
Twins Tenders and Teaching 