A quick note: Most of you know about my insanely handsome and wonderful husband, Stuart. He may not make an appearance on the blog as often as beard-loving-women would hope, but know he’s always behind the scenes encouraging, advising, and working on the homestead. I’ve asked him to do a short series of posts with me
Did I remember to put pants on? Seriously. Please tell me I’m wearing pants right now. Yes, my friends, this thought actually went through my head as I was driving the minivan full of rascals into town this past week. Amongst the chaos of sippy cups, car seats, school uniforms, backpacks, snacks, feedings, diapers, wipes,
I can only assume that the Lord wanted me to retell this story in a different way because the ‘Publish’ button I struck earlier today resulted in a completely lost birthing story that was approximately 1,592,492 words long. Let’s pretend like I totally kept my cool and didn’t slam the laptop shut and shuffle off
I’m only a few weeks away from having my third baby since starting this blog (way back when I didn’t have any fine lines surrounding my eyes). Wow. I can’t believe so many of you have been on this journey with me for so long. As super-pregnant, hormonal woman normally do, I’ve been thinking a
Something about having a baby makes me want to entirely redo my house. Like immediately. Urgently. Like somehow I’m supposed to have it perfectly designed and constructed and cleaned before the madness of a new child arrives. Some may call it nesting. I call it a sickness. Because only a sick person would attempt to
We’ve been getting lots of emails from readers lately asking about our financial situation and how we fund our homestead. They usually take me by surprise. WHAT? Why would people be asking that?! Perhaps because it was pretty public knowledge that last year, in Alabama, Dave Ramsey ran out life like the tightest of ships.
I’m totally terrified of being a mother again. There, I said it. Change is always hard – especially for a tend-to-be-tightly-wound-and-like-things-to-go-according-to-plan kind of person like myself. Am I worried about loving this little one and snuggling it until it can’t possibly be snuggled any more? Of course not. Lawd knows I love my babies and
Spare me the sympathy. The stares get a bit old. The looks of sympathy. The “Oh, poor thing!” glances. Please. Spare me the sympathy. Sure, sometimes I’m dragging fussy children through the store – a year and a half year old hobbit trying to climb out of the cart, grabbing at shelved (and most likely
In this age of the popular “DIY on-the-cheap”, I felt I necessary to make a point (as I so often do…ahem… sorry about that). But I can’t let this slide. Fine. I’ll just say it. On the homestead, it’s not all about the money. Yes, some of it is about the money – after
Work on the homestead is almost unbearable this time of year. I’m in a variety of homesteading groups and in each one the message of Spring is the same. We’re all OVERWHELMED! My Mom invited us to dinner the other night and I quickly sent her back a text message: “Shaye is dying of exhaustion.