Last week was one of those. A week that sapped us of sleep, and strength. Of two cars with issues that drained the bank, just like they did last month. Of many things broken in this house. My mug, known by all as an extension of my arm and
Category: Homesteading
Poetic Empathy for Moms of Autism
I had to come up with something, even if i was just going to share it with myself. Something poetic if only to justify my day to myself. It’s not you, it’s me. Ruckus destroyed a project. Again. The Brainiac and Big Sister had been working on for hours. Again.
When God’s Timing Turns Me Into a Five Year Old, Because Patience Isn’t My Thing
I was not sure if more than five people would read that last post. For someone who hasn’t read what I have put out over the past, I am aware that it doesn’t make sense. That it may not seem like a big deal or need to be said. For
Hello, My Name Is…
How do I start… No, how do I pick back up. What do I pick back up? That’s the problem with juggling hats, you see. I have so many and I love them all. I hold them close, I spin them in the air. I store them in the closet.
Losing Your *IT* vs. Saving Grace (FIVE things I've learned through 7 years of poop)
Last week was one of those. A week that sapped us of sleep, and strength. Of two cars with issues that drained the bank just like they did last month. Of many things broken in this house. I sighed, I felt disappointment… deeply struggled with the inner beast… but no