Practical Homesteading

Category: Personal Growth

  • How We Survived Long Car Days with a 2.5‑Year‑Old and a 6‑Year‑Old

    How We Survived Long Car Days with a 2.5‑Year‑Old and a 6‑Year‑Old

    We loved our 5‑day, 800‑mile road trip—but we also had moments when our kids (and us, for that matter) clearly had too much car time. Here’s what helped us get through the long stretches on our road trip with a 2.5‑year‑old and a 6‑year‑old in the back seat.

    This post is part of our 5‑Day Family Road Trip Series.
    We took our family of four (kids ages 2.5 and 6) on an 800‑mile road trip from southeastern Wisconsin to Michigan’s Upper Peninsula, camping most nights and keeping our total cost under $1,000. If you’d like to see the whole picture, check out the other posts in this series:

    You’re currently reading: How We Survived Long Car Days with a 2.5‑Year‑Old and a 6‑Year‑Old.

    Naming the Challenge: Too Much Car Time

    Even with a thoughtfully planned itinerary, there were stretches where everyone was tired, squirmy, and ready to be anywhere other than buckled into a car. We tried to acknowledge that openly instead of expecting perfect behavior just because we were “on vacation.”

    We also chose not to use screens in the car. Both my husband and I grew up taking long car rides without screens, and our stance is that it takes patience from us as parents to instill a “sense of boredom” in our kids so they’re not constantly engaged by devices.

    This approach won’t be the right fit for every family, but it’s working for us right now.

    It can be challenging, but we’re already seeing the fruit of that effort—our son is very observant, and our daughter is becoming more so every day.

    Our Go‑To Tools

    We leaned on a few simple things to make long stretches more manageable.

    Spotify playlists
    We played a lot of ’60s–’80s music—songs we knew well enough to sing along with, and that set a different mood than everyday kid music. My son loves to sing along, and like me, he likes to make up his own humorous lyrics at times. A fun example is “I got my tractor stuck” instead of AC/DC’s “thunderstruck.” My daughter is just getting to that age where she’s starting to sing along to the words.

    “I spy” and simple games
    Classic, but effective. Looking for colors, shapes, and specific kinds of vehicles or buildings helped keep their eyes outside and minds engaged.

    Simple Toys
    We did have a little light up fidget toy (with switches and knobs to control the lights) and an erasable drawing board in the car. We’ve used them for previous road trips, but we didn’t need them this time.

    This is the toy we have. I have no idea why, but the kids absolutely love it, and it’s helped my daughter calm down from temper tantrums on numerous occasions.

    Talking about the sights outside
    When we passed mines, ore docks, old industrial sites, lakes, or unusual rock cuts, we pointed them out and talked about what they were. We also talk about transmission lines, interesting buildings, and the architecture of the time—we all have a thing for well‑built Victorian buildings.

    Just one of the many places we talked about. This is an ore dock in Marquette, MI that actively loads iron ore onto ships to haul around the Great Lakes. We stood and watched the ship be loaded for about 45 minutes, and a ship engineer even came and talked to us for a couple minutes about the ship. My son talked about this for days after the fact.

    Stories tied to places
    My husband and I shared specific memories about towns, rivers, or landmarks we’d known from earlier in life, which made the drive feel like a tour of our own past as well.

    Science, History, and Mining Conversations

    Because this trip visited several mining sites and industrial areas, we had natural openings to talk about:

    • Where materials like iron ore and copper come from.
    • How ships and trains move goods.
    • What these towns were built around historically.

    We didn’t turn the car into a classroom, but weaving in science and history kept everyone thinking and made the landscape more interesting.

    Geological pothole below a waterfall, just one of the things we talked about on our road trip.

    Snacks (and Realistic Expectations)

    We brought plenty of snacks, but not all of them were kid hits. Our wasabi‑soy almonds were a flop with the kids and a win for the adults. They liked simpler, familiar snacks—things they’d eat at home and didn’t have to “learn” in the car.

    We found it helped to:

    • Offer snacks at natural breaks, not constantly.
    • Pair snack time with a quick stretch outside the car whenever possible.

    Our Longest Drive and What We’d Do Differently

    Our longest drive was about 5 hours. We planned that for the second day of the trip, when we were all still freshest. That was also the night we let the kids run amok on the nearby playground instead of asking them to help set up camp. After that much car time, they needed the freedom to move more than they needed to “help.”

    If we were planning another similar trip:

    • We’d probably shorten a couple of the driving days or add an extra playground stop on the longest stretches, even though we did already schedule the longest drive early in the trip.
    • We’d prep more kid‑specific playlists or audiobooks, so they had something “of their own” to look forward to within our screen‑free framework.

    The main lesson: long car days with little kids can be rough, but music, conversation, games, snacks, and realistic expectations—plus a willingness to embrace some boredom—go a long way toward making them manageable.

    If you’re planning a road trip with kids and want to keep all the practical details in one place, I made a printable 5-Day Family Road Trip Planner & Budget Pack with itinerary, packing, and meal-planning pages.

    It’s available here for $5.

    How do you handle long car rides with your kids—screens, games, music, or something else? Share what’s worked (or what hasn’t!) in the comments, and pass this along to a friend planning a family road trip.

    If this screen‑free approach and set of ideas was helpful, please like this post and share it with another parent who’s gearing up for a long drive with little kids.

    Read More Here: How Curiosity Keeps Me From Feeling Bored (Even on Long Car Rides With Kids)

  • How Our Family of Four Took a 5‑Day Road Trip for Under $1,000

    How Our Family of Four Took a 5‑Day Road Trip for Under $1,000

    My family of four recently took a 5‑day, 800‑mile budget road trip from southeastern Wisconsin to Michigan’s Upper Peninsula—and spent under $1,000. Here’s our exact budget and the choices that made it possible.

    This post is part of our 5‑Day Family Road Trip Series.

    We took our family of four (kids ages 2.5 and 6) on an 800‑mile road trip from southeastern Wisconsin to Michigan’s Upper Peninsula, camping most nights and keeping our total cost under $1,000. If you’d like to see the whole picture, check out the other posts in this series:

    You’re currently reading: How Our Family of Four Took a 5‑Day Road Trip for Under $1,000.

    Trip Overview

    We traveled with our 2.5‑year‑old daughter and 6‑year‑old son, camping most nights and staying with friends for one night. Our route took us through Green Bay, Marquette, the Keweenaw Peninsula, the Porcupine Mountains, and back home via central Wisconsin.

    I didn’t set out with a specific budget target in mind; I simply tracked expenses along the way. Looking back at the numbers showed us what really helped keep costs down.

    Our Budget Breakdown

    Here’s how our costs shook out for 5 days:

    • Lodging (4 nights camping in state and local parks, 1 night with friends): $156
    • Food (mostly groceries: sandwich supplies, snacks, beer, campfire dinners): $404
    • Gas (2018 Subaru Crosstrek, about 32 miles per gallon): $101
    • Entertainment and souvenirs (mine tours, a brewery flight, small treats): $195

    Total for 5 days, family of four: $856.

    Under $1,000 is still a significant amount of money, but for us, it felt like a good balance between keeping costs reasonable and enjoying meaningful experiences.

    Want a printable version of this planning process?

    I made a simple 5-Day Family Road Trip Planner & Budget Pack with a budget tracker, itinerary planner, packing checklist, and meal planner. It’s designed to help families plan a road trip without starting from scratch.

    Get it here for $5.

    Tips That Helped Us Keep Our Family Road Trip Under $1,000

    Each of these decisions ties directly to one of our main expense categories—lodging, food, gas, and entertainment.

    Camp instead of hotels for most nights.
    Four nights in state and local parks kept lodging costs low and gave the kids built‑in playgrounds, nature time, and playmates.

    Our camping setup

    Cook most dinners at camp.
    Rotisserie chicken, tacos, potato hash, and a simple jambalaya made from a dehydrated mix and hot dogs were all easy to cook over a camp stove or fire. Groceries cost less than restaurant meals, especially for a family of four.

    Jambalaya, one of the camping dehydrator meals we made ahead of time and rehydrated at the campsite.

    Pack an “oh no” box.
    My husband, an auto mechanic by training, packed a box with basic tools, tow straps, and a simple code reader. We never needed it, but knowing we could handle minor roadside issues kept us from feeling pressured into extra services “just in case.”

    Our “Oh No” box, with simple tools that would help us if we had trouble on the road.

    Choose a route with low‑cost, high‑value stops.
    State parks, playgrounds, scenic ore docks, mines, waterfalls, and lake views gave us plenty to do without pricey attraction tickets every day.

    Overlooked Falls in Porcupine Mountains State Park

    Let kids help with camp setup and fun.
    Our puzzle‑piece floor mat became a nightly “game,” and s’mores and playgrounds turned simple evenings into memorable ones.

    Have a contingency plan for bad weather.
    We agreed that if it poured, we’d grab a hotel instead of pushing through miserable camping. We didn’t end up needing that backup, but it helped us relax while still budgeting primarily for camping.

    A Quick Look at Our Route

    Here’s a short overview of where we went each day:

    • Night 1: Drive to Green Bay, stay with friends.
    • Day 2: Palms Book State Park and Kitch‑iti‑kipi; camp in Marquette.
    • Day 3: Ore dock in Marquette, Cliffs Mine in Ishpeming, camp near Lake Linden.
    • Day 4: Hancock and old industrial sites, Quincy Mine tour, camp and sunset at Porcupine Mountains State Park.
    • Day 5: Porcupine Mountains waterfalls, pasties in Wakefield, camp at Council Grounds State Park.
    • Day 6: Slow morning, picnic in Stevens Point, then home.

    If you’d like a detailed day‑by‑day itinerary, I’ve written that up separately and will share it here when it’s posted.

    What It Was Like with Young Kids

    We definitely had moments where the kids had too much car time—every parent knows that special brand of restlessness. Spotify playlists (mostly ’60s–’80s music), “I spy,” conversations about the sights outside, and lots of science, history, and mining talk helped turn those stretches into shared experiences instead of just “Are we there yet?” loops.

    I’ll cover our car‑time strategies in more detail in another post, but the short version is: simple games, engaging conversation, and familiar music go a long way.

    A Few Caveats and Small Joys

    We were lucky with weather: it didn’t rain, which made camping much more pleasant. We also met kind people along the way—camp neighbors who shared s’mores, a ship’s chief engineer and his son who took a moment to explain the ore dock, and a stranger who offered to take a sunset photo of all four of us at the Porcupine Mountains.

    Those moments reminded us that budget travel isn’t just about saving money; it’s also about being open to the small connections you find on the road.

    Want a printable version of this planning process?

    Get it here for $5.

    If you’ve taken a budget minded family road trip, I’d love to hear one choice you made that helped keep costs down without cutting out the fun. Share your story in the comments—and if you know someone planning a family trip, send this their way!

    If this breakdown was helpful, please like this post and share it with a friend who’s dreaming about a family road trip on a budget.

    Read More: Simple Summer Fun that Doesn’t Break the Budget

  • Why the Library Is One of Our Favorite Places (And Not Just for Books)

    Why the Library Is One of Our Favorite Places (And Not Just for Books)

    When I think about places that quietly shape our family life, the library is near the top of the list. It’s easy to overlook—a brick building on a corner, a place you “mean to visit more often.” But for us, it’s one of the sweetest gifts our community offers.

    It’s where we go to learn, to rest, to play, and to remember that we’re part of something bigger than our own four walls.

    More Than Shelves of Books

    On the surface, the library is about shelves: picture books, novels, cookbooks, gardening guides, and everything in between. But when you look a little closer, you realize it’s about access and abundance.

    With one library card, you can:

    • Bring home stacks of books without worrying about the price tag.
    • Try new authors and topics without committing to buying anything.
    • Follow curiosities—history, homesteading, parenting, faith, crafts—one checkout at a time.

    For families trying to live simply and steward resources well, that kind of shared abundance is a gift. For our family, the local library fits us beautifully.

    Movies, Equipment, and Children’s Toys

    Another perk of my local library (and many others) is that they offer free or very low‑cost movie rentals. They carry everything from new releases to classics to some of the best movies ever made.

    Many libraries also lend out equipment and games. At ours, we’ve:

    • Borrowed board games for family game nights.
    • Checked out a portable Bluetooth speaker I wanted to test before buying one.

    Depending on your library, you might also find:

    • Simple tools like stud finders or power meters.
    • Tech items such as hotspots, tablets, laptops, or projectors.
    • Craft or STEM kits for kids.
    • Puzzles or outdoor yard games.

    All of these can be tried without a big upfront cost, which is a huge help when you’re living on a budget or just don’t want to own everything you use occasionally.

    In addition, my children absolutely love to go to the children’s section and either play computer games (my 6‑year‑old son adores a mechanics game where he designs systems that make things work and solve problems), or play with the wooden train set and other toys we don’t have at home.

    Passes, Perks, and Everyday Adventures

    One of my favorite “hidden” features of our local library is how it opens doors around town without adding to our budget.

    Depending on where you live, your library might offer:

    • Passes to local pools and attractions you can borrow like books.
    • Discounts on souvenirs or gift shop items at partner museums or zoos.
    • Free or reduced parking when you visit certain places with a library‑issued pass.

    These little perks turn “maybe someday” outings into real possibilities. Before we buy tickets or plan a special day, we’ve learned to ask: “Does the library have a pass or a partnership for this?” Sometimes the answer is yes—and the savings are substantial.

    Lego Days, Summer Programs, and a Monthly Book Club

    Our library isn’t just about quiet reading; it’s also about community and play.

    A few favorites in our area are:

    • Lego days. Tables covered in bricks, kids of all ages building side by side, imaginations running wild. It’s simple, noisy, and wonderfully free. We walk in with empty hands and walk out with tired, happy kids and a few new book titles to explore.
    • Summer reading program, with special library events organized around a central theme. This year at my local library, they’re celebrating America’s 250th birthday with events like “Party Like It’s 1776” and “Eat Like It’s 1776,” where my son had an absolute blast making homemade butter in a plastic cup with a lid. There are prizes for meeting reading goals (free ice cream, tickets to local attractions, trinkets), and there’s even a program for the adults.
    • A monthly book club. Adults (and sometimes older teens) gather to talk about a book they’ve all read—sharing perspectives, hearing different viewpoints, and making connections across ages and backgrounds. It’s an easy way to keep reading stretching us, not just entertaining us.

    These aren’t just events; they’re regular rhythms that help us feel anchored in our community. Not every library will have these exact events, but many have their own version—craft days, story times, clubs, or seasonal celebrations.

    How the Library Supports Simple Living and Homesteading

    For those of us who garden, homestead, or love rural life, the library can quietly support that, too.

    You might find:

    • Gardening books that help you plan your beds or troubleshoot pests.
    • Cookbooks and preserving guides that walk through canning, freezing, and fermenting.
    • DIY and skills guides—sewing, carpentry, herbal remedies, simple repairs.

    Instead of buying every book you’re curious about, you can borrow, learn, and then decide which ones you truly want to own. It keeps clutter and costs down while still feeding your brain and your skills.

    Teaching Kids to Love Shared Spaces

    The library is also a gentle way to teach kids that some things belong to all of us.

    Every visit is a chance to practice:

    • Using quiet voices when needed.
    • Walking even when they’re excited.
    • Putting books and toys back where they belong.
    • Being considerate of other kids and adults who are sharing the space.

    We can explain that the books, bricks, passes, and programs don’t live at our house—they’re part of a shared resource that we help care for. When we’re done enjoying them, we send them back so someone else can enjoy them too. It’s a small but meaningful way to plant seeds of community‑mindedness and respect.

    Making the Library Part of Your Family Rhythm

    You don’t have to turn the library into a big production. Sometimes the best approach is simple and steady.

    Ideas to try:

    • A weekly “library day” with a special snack afterward.
    • Letting each child choose a set number of books—one purely for fun, one about something they’re curious about.
    • Checking the library calendar at the start of each month and circling Lego days, book clubs, and seasonal events.

    Over time, these small routines add up. The library becomes not just a place you visit, but a regular part of your family’s story.

    A Small Thank‑You to the People Behind the Desk

    Behind all the books and programs are real people: librarians and staff who know the collection, plan events, and quietly help families and individuals find what they need.

    They:

    • Recommend titles based on a few hesitant questions.
    • Register kids for Lego days and summer reading programs.
    • Help track down that one book that’s “about trees” or “had a blue cover.”

    They keep the whole operation running, often with limited budgets and a lot of heart.

    If you’re reading this and love your library too, maybe this can be a gentle nudge: the next time you’re there, consider saying a simple “thank you” to the person who helped you—or sending a short note of appreciation.

    If your family uses the library, I’d love to hear: what’s one program, perk, or little ritual that makes it special for you?

    If this post gave you new ideas or reminded you how much your own library offers, would you share it with a friend or fellow parent? Your shares and comments help these stories reach more families—and more librarians who deserve a thank you.”

    Read Next: Simple Summer Fun that Doesn’t Break the Budget

  • Simple Summer Fun That Doesn’t Break the Budget

    Simple Summer Fun That Doesn’t Break the Budget

    Summer goes fast, especially with kids. The kids are off school, the days are long, and the temptation to spend big on activities is everywhere. Big trips can be wonderful, but they’re not the only way to give kids a great summer. Some of the best memories don’t require plane tickets, pricey passes, or a suitcase—just a little creativity, some local resources, and a willingness to enjoy what you already have.

    Here are a few ways to save money while still having a genuinely fun summer with your kids.

    Turn Your Yard Into “Casa de Backyarda”

    You don’t need a fancy inflatable water park to make the backyard magical. Sometimes all it takes is a hose and a simple sprinkler.

    In our house, we call it “Casa de Backyarda.” When the weather heats up, we:

    • Set up a basic sprinkler in the yard.
    • Add a few extras—a plastic kiddie pool, buckets, or cups for pouring water.
    • Let the kids run, jump, and invent their own games.

    Pair it with popsicles, bubbles, a simple little picnic on a blanket, or a “no shoes” rule, and suddenly you’ve got a full afternoon of fun for the cost of water and whatever you already own. It’s low-stress, low-prep, and high joy.

    Make the Most of Your Local Library

    Your local library can be a quiet powerhouse for summer fun and savings. Many libraries offer far more than books and story time.

    Depending on your library system, you may find:

    • Passes you can borrow for local pools, museums, zoos, and other attractions.
    • Discounts on souvenirs or gift shop purchases at partner locations.
    • Free or reduced parking when you visit certain spots with a library‑issued pass.
    • Summer reading programs with small rewards, events, and special activity days.
    • Free equipment rentals (such as Bluetooth speakers) which really amp up the vibe of any activity.

    Not every library has every perk, but it’s worth checking what your local system offers—you might be surprised. A simple habit: before you buy tickets or plan an outing, check what your library offers. Sometimes all it takes is a library card and a bit of planning ahead to turn a “maybe too expensive” activity into something doable.

    Camping as a Main Summer Trip

    You don’t have to fly across the country to have a memorable family vacation. A simple camping trip can be both an adventure and a major cost saver.

    When camping is your main trip for the summer, you often get to:

    • Save on lodging. Campsites are usually much cheaper than hotels or rentals.
    • Spend more time outdoors—hiking, swimming, stargazing, cooking over a fire.
    • Build traditions around campfire stories, card games, and simple meals.

    Camping can be as rustic or “soft” as your family needs—anything from tent camping at a state park to renting a small cabin or camper. Either way, the focus shifts from expensive attractions to shared experiences: setting up camp together, exploring trails, and unplugging a bit from screens.

    Lean Into “Small Fun” That Adds Up

    Kids often remember the small, repeated joys more than the one big, expensive outing. A few “small fun” ideas that don’t cost much:

    • Weekly library visits with a special snack afterward.
    • Neighborhood walks or bike rides with a stop at a playground.
    • Walking a storybook trail at a local park.
    • Firefly chasing in the backyard.
    • Living room movie nights with blankets and popcorn.
    • Simple crafts using what you already have—chalk, cardboard, paints.

    You don’t have to fill every day with something elaborate. A few steady, simple traditions can carry a lot of weight over a whole summer.

    A Gentle Reminder for Summer Parents

    It’s easy to feel pressure to do “everything” in the summer—big trips, fancy outings, perfect memories. But your kids don’t need perfection. They need you, some time, and a few simple experiences to hang onto.

    A sprinkler in the yard. A borrowed library pass. A weekend camping trip instead of a hotel. A stack of books and a bowl of popcorn. Those can be enough.

    If you have a favorite low‑cost summer tradition, I’d love to hear: what’s one simple thing your family does every year that makes summer feel special without stretching the budget?

    If this post gave you a few ideas or reminded you of the simple things you already love, would you share it with another parent or caregiver? Your shares and comments help these budget friendly ideas reach families who might need them.

    Read Next: Where the Red Fern Grows and the Sprinkler Flows

  • How Two Neighboring Farmers Became Lifelong Friends

    How Two Neighboring Farmers Became Lifelong Friends

    In today’s post, I want to share a story from more than a decade before I was born—one that shaped my childhood in a foundational way. It’s the story of how two farmers became friends, and how that friendship became part of the fabric of our family.

    The Farmer on the Barn Roof

    My dad, set to inherit the family farm, was working on my grandparents’ red barn roof. He had not yet met my mom and was about 25. My grandparents were laying the groundwork for the farm handover. They’d helped him buy the property next door (where I eventually grew up) and taught him farming from childhood (as was customary).

    That day, he was up on their red barn. This wasn’t some tiny shed—it stretched about 60 feet long, with the roof starting roughly 25 feet off the ground and peaking even higher. In other words, working up there was no small task.

    A Simple Act of Help Changes Everything

    A local farmer, a couple years older than my dad, drove by and spotted him. He pulled in, climbed up to the roof, and offered a hand. My dad said yes, and the farmer sat on the peak for a couple minutes—gathering his nerve—before joining in the work. What my dad didn’t know at the time was that this farmer was afraid of heights. That detail makes the moment even more meaningful to me—he set his fear aside to help a neighbor.

    From that afternoon on the barn roof, a friendship sparked that continues to this day.

    A Farm Friendship That Shaped Decades—and My Childhood

    They wove themselves into each other’s lives completely. They attended each other’s weddings (sharing not just the same first name, but wives with the same first name too). They sponsored each other’s kids and teamed up for big jobs like baling hay across large fields.

    From the time I could lift bales, I pitched in during those haying days. As one large team with two small New Holland balers, we would bale 2,000 to 3,000 small bales in a day—enough to fill a haymow and feed the cattle for months. I’d finish covered in dust and sweat—I didn’t exactly love it then—but I look back on those memories fondly now.

    Baling hay was always a big endeavor.

    After the hard work wrapped up, we’d always share a big meal together. I didn’t realize it as a kid, but it felt like our own version of the old threshing bees, where neighbors gathered to help put away the feed, eat, and celebrate the harvest.

    Before that day on the roof, they were just acquaintances. Afterward, they were like brothers. That one choice—to stop, help, and climb despite his fear—rippled through shared work, celebrations, tough seasons, and the community I grew up in.

    And it all started with one farmer seeing another on a tall red barn and deciding not to drive on by.

    Photo by Maksym Ivashchenko on Unsplash

    Do you have a story of a neighbor or friend whose one small act changed the course of your farm or family?

    If this story brought someone to mind—a neighbor, a friend, or a farmer you’re grateful for—would you pass it along to them or share it so others can be reminded how much small acts of help matter?

  • Coffer Dams and Motherhood: Being Seen on the Hard Days

    Coffer Dams and Motherhood: Being Seen on the Hard Days

    Happy Mother’s Day to all the moms out there. Motherhood is one of the most rewarding and difficult jobs of my life. Some days it stretches me to my limits, and some days it surprises me with small moments of grace. I wouldn’t trade it for anything.

    When Motherhood Feels Heavy

    The other day was one of the hard ones. Nothing dramatic—just the slow pileup of decisions, messes, and worries that comes with raising small humans while trying to keep everything else in life moving forward.

    By bedtime, I felt wrung out and a little hollow, like I was running on fumes and expectations.

    That’s when my 6-year-old son, who knows how much I love reading about infrastructure and engineering, surprised me. That world is part of my work as an environmental professional, and it was a big focus in college. I still find it endlessly fascinating: how bridges stand, how dams hold, how someone once looked at a river or a marsh and thought, “We can build something here.” I love the history behind it too—the choices, mistakes, and bursts of ingenuity that gave us running water, paved roads, and power at the flip of a switch.

    An Engineering Book and a Small Act of Love

    That night, when it was time to pick out a book to read, my son paused a little longer than usual in front of the shelf. Normally he reaches for something about pirates or a familiar favorite. Instead, he pulled out an engineering book someone had given him. He flipped through the pages with a purpose and then landed on a section about coffer dams. He looked up at me and said he picked “the engineering part” because he knew it would make me happy.

    It stopped me in my tracks more than any store-bought Mother’s Day card ever could.

    We settled in to read. I started explaining what a coffer dam is, how it lets people work in a dry space while water is held back by steel walls, called sheet piles, driven into the earth. As I explained, I remembered my college professor with a Latin American accent who loved teaching about sheet piles. He knew exactly how the term sounded when he said it and would stretch it out with mock innocence that had the entire class laughing every single time. It’s a silly, fond memory, and it reminds me that even in the most technical fields, there’s a human side behind all the math and steel.

    As I read and shared those stories, I realized what my son had really done. He hadn’t just picked a book; he had reached for something that felt like me. In his 6-year-old way, he was saying, “I see you, Mom. I know what you like. I want to bring a little bit of that back to you.”

    His 2-year-old sister climbed into my lap too, not concerned with coffer dams or sheet piles—just happy to be included, her small body warm against mine. One child choosing the book he knew I’d love, the other snuggling in for the sound of my voice and the feel of my arms around her.

    There I was: tired, a little worn down, and surrounded by the two people who make this job both exhausting and holy.

    How Motherhood Feels Like Engineering

    It struck me how much motherhood feels like those engineering concepts I love. We build supports we hope will hold. We design routines and boundaries like invisible scaffolding. We stand in the middle of messy, rushing currents—school schedules, work deadlines, dinner, tantrums—and try to carve out solid ground where connection can happen. Some days the structure wobbles. Some days the coffer dam leaks. But then there are nights like this, when a 6-year-old chooses an engineering book to make his mom smile, and a 2-year-old tucks herself under my arm, and for a moment everything feels steady.

    This Mother’s Day, I’m thinking less about flowers or brunch and more about these small, thoughtful gestures—the way our kids notice us, even when they can’t quite put it into words. The way they remind us who we are outside of “Mom,” and love that person too.

    To all the moms who are tired, overwhelmed, and still showing up: I see you. May you get your own small coffer-dam moments—just enough dry ground, just enough support, and a few unexpected ways your kids show you they’re paying attention.

    What’s a small, thoughtful thing your child has done that made you feel truly seen as a mom?

    If this story resonated with you, would you take a moment to like, comment, or share it with another mom who might need a little encouragement today?

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    Read Next: Amish Bakery Visit for Bulk Groceries: A Homesteading Family Tradition

  • One Year of Homesteading Stories: Thank You for Being Here

    This is a little bonus post because today marks one year since I started this blog.

    One year ago today, I hit publish on my very first blog post: a piece called “Sourdough Bread,” a humorous take on how something as simple as baking bread can be both maddeningly difficult and deeply rewarding all at once. It felt like the perfect metaphor for the kind of life I wanted to write about—messy, slow, sometimes sticky, but full of small wins that make the effort worth it.

    Since then, this little corner of the internet has branched out in all sorts of directions. I’ve shared anecdotes from our homestead and family life, how-tos, reflections, and everything in between, all delivered in my own quirky, hopefully humorous voice. Some posts have been practical, some have been tender, and some have just been me trying to make sense of the chaos of growing food, raising kids, and building community. One of my poems, “If You Buy Your Wife a Chicken,” even made it into GRIT Magazine—something I didn’t think was possible when I started.

    What has surprised me most, though, are the connections that have grown beyond the screen. Friends have mentioned a post at the park or over coffee, neighbors have told me they tried a recipe or related to a story about the kids, and people I barely knew have said, “Hey, I read your blog.” Those little in-person moments have made this space feel less abstract and more like part of my real, everyday community.

    What you may not know is that, before I started writing here, I had mostly convinced myself that my voice didn’t really matter—that what I noticed or felt wasn’t worth saying out loud. Hitting “publish” that first time felt like stepping out of a very familiar pattern of staying quiet. Your encouragement over this past year hasn’t just kept the blog going; it’s helped me find my footing again and rediscover the things that have always brought me joy, like writing and gardening.

    To everyone who has taken the time to read a post, click like, leave a comment, or hit ‘subscribe’ over this past year: thank you. Truly. Every view, every “like,” every “I’ve been there too” in the comments has meant more to me than I can put into words. You’ve given this aspiring writer the affirmation that maybe, just maybe, I can do this.

    It means so much that you’ve let me show up in your inbox or feed with stories about bread that refuses to rise, kids who say the most unexpected things, garden experiments that sometimes flop, and the small moments that make it all feel worthwhile. I’m also deeply grateful for your patience when life got hectic and I took a hiatus, and for the way you still showed up as I found my way back to a more consistent rhythm.

    I’m so thankful for each of you who has stuck around, cheered me on, and made this space feel less like I’m talking into the void and more like a real community gathered around a virtual kitchen table.

    Here’s to year one of this blog—and to whatever year two brings. I can’t wait to keep writing, experimenting, and sharing the journey with you. Thank you, from the bottom of my quirky, homesteading, bread-obsessed heart, for being here.

    If you’ve been reading along this year, I’d love to know: what post or topic has stuck with you the most, or what would you like to see more of in year two?

    If this blog has encouraged you, made you laugh, or given you a helpful idea this year, would you take a moment to like, comment, or share this post with a friend who might enjoy it too?

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  • The Best Concerts of My Life: From Awolnation to Concerts in the Park

    The Best Concerts of My Life: From Awolnation to Concerts in the Park

    Daily writing prompt
    What is the best concert you have been to?
    View all responses

    What is the best concert I’ve ever been to? I can’t pick just one concert experience. The “best” concert seems to depend on who I was at the time. Live music has a way of marking seasons of life, and a few Green Bay concert memories stand out for very different reasons.

    Awolnation in a Gritty Green Bay Bar

    In 2016, in Green Bay, Wisconsin, I bought tickets for my now-husband and me to see Awolnation. The show was in a bar with a large open area usually reserved for winter volleyball leagues. The ground was somehow both gritty and sticky. The concert started late; the crowd was all in, and I sang every word along with them. At one point, the lead singer changed a lyric in “Run” from “capable of doing terrible things” to “capable of doing beautiful things,” and that shift stuck with me. I started at the back of the room and slowly worked my way to the front, carried by the energy of the crowd. Near the end, he threw a guitar pick into the audience, and somehow, I caught it. It still sits in my curio cabinet, ready to tell its story—whether anyone asks or not. Even now, ten years later, it feels worth the lost sleep and the slow next day at work.

    A Beatles Tribute and Pregnancy at Lambeau

    A few years later, in 2019, music met me in a quieter moment. I was pregnant with my son when Paul McCartney came to Lambeau Field—a huge event for Green Bay. The night before, Titletown hosted a free concert with a Beatles tribute band, BritBeat. We brought lawn chairs; my husband grabbed a beer and an iced tea for me, and I settled in for a calm evening of familiar Beatles songs. The Beatles have a special place in my heart. In high school, an influential choir teacher introduced them to us, and it was the first time I realized how much lyrics matter—how they can turn a song into something that stays with you. As the band played “She Loves You” and “Eleanor Rigby,” I felt my son start to move. Sitting there, singing along, it felt like we were sharing the moment. It wasn’t loud or electric like Awolnation, but it carried a quieter kind of weight.

    Family-Friendly Concerts in the Park

    These days, concerts look different again. We go to local family-friendly Concerts in the Park, where my kids run off to play tag and make instant friends while the music drifts in and out. I sit in a lawn chair with a friend—or occasionally my husband, if I can convince him to come—and still sing along, sometimes making up my own lyrics just to keep things interesting. I run into acquaintances and friends who deepen my sense of belonging in the community. The music is still there, but now it plays under everything else: kids racing past, someone calling out a name, a conversation that pauses and picks back up between songs.

    How Live Music Marks Each Season of Life

    Someday, I’d love to bring my kids to a concert like that Awolnation show—something loud and unforgettable. But for now, this season of life fits. The best concert wasn’t just one night; it’s the way live music has followed me—from crowded floors to quiet evenings to kids running in the grass—changing right along with me as I’m raising kids and building community.

    Feature Photo by Phil Desforges on Unsplash

    What’s the best concert you’ve ever been to, and what season of your life does it remind you of?

    If this story reminded you of your own favorite concert memories, please like, share, or pass it along to a friend who loves live music too.

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    Read Next: When Nostalgia Sneaks In: A Journey Through Music, Memories, and Meaning

  • Amish Bakery Visit for Bulk Groceries: A Homesteading Family Tradition

    Amish Bakery Visit for Bulk Groceries: A Homesteading Family Tradition

    About every two months, I make the hour-long trip to the nearest Amish settlement to stock up on bulk groceries. It’s a steady rhythm in our homesteading life—bringing home 50-pound bags of bread flour, dried vegetables, bulk pasta, and active dry yeast that stock our pantry and turn into loaves of bread, tortillas, and buns in the weeks that follow.

    But if you ask my kids, the highlight of every trip is the same: the Amish bakery.

    On this particular Saturday, it seemed like everyone else had the same idea. The parking lot was full, and the line stretched halfway across the gravel lot. For a moment, I considered turning around—but one look at my 6-year-old son and 2-year-old daughter made it clear we were staying.

    So, we settled in.

    There was a chill in the wind, but standing in the sun made it feel like a perfect spring day. Nearby, a little Amish boy—maybe three—chased a chicken across the yard, getting just close enough each time to keep trying.

    We started with a round of “I Spy,” which didn’t last long. Soon, we were watching horses in the pasture, sheep grazing in the distance, and pigeons circling overhead—much to my daughter’s delight, who confidently called them all “ducks.”

    As the line slowly moved, the wait began to shift. What felt long at first softened into something slower and more enjoyable. People started talking. A couple behind us—one from Sun Prairie, another from Watertown—struck up an easy conversation about travel, baking, and everyday life.

    The line as I got closer to the entrance. The smell of freshly baked bread and pastries was intoxicating.

    Meanwhile, my kids wandered off and found a little girl to play with, disappearing into their own world for nearly twenty minutes.

    My kids found a little girl to play with while I waited in line.

    By the time we reached the door, the smell of the Amish bakery had already found us—warm bread, sweet glaze, and something deeply comforting. Inside, shelves were lined with cakes, pies, and fresh-baked goods, but there was no question what we came for.

    We walked out with warm donuts in hand—chocolate for my daughter and me, glazed for my son—and barely said a word as we ate them back at the car.

    Somehow, the hour-long wait didn’t feel long at all.

    Trips like this are never just about bulk groceries or even the Amish bakery itself. They’re about filling a pantry that feeds our family, giving our kids space to grow and learn patience, and finding small moments of connection with people we might not otherwise meet.

    It’s growing food, raising kids, and building community—sometimes in the most unexpected places.

    And yes… the donuts help, too.

    Have you ever stuck out a long wait and realized it was actually the best part of the day?

    If you’re trying to slow down, raise your kids a little differently, or build a more intentional life—like and share this with someone on that path too.

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    Read Next: How Curiosity Keeps Me From Feeling Bored (Even on Long Car Rides With Kids)

  • Letter to My 100-Year-Old Self: Homestead + Kids Dreams

    Letter to My 100-Year-Old Self: Homestead + Kids Dreams

    Daily writing prompt
    Write a letter to your 100-year-old self.
    View all responses

    Dear 100-year-old self,

    Right now, our days overflow with three big works. I’m writing this when I’m 36 years old. I hope you’re looking back on this time fondly, with a loving husband, two beautiful young children, and a growing homestead and writing hobby that is starting to bear some fruit.

    Raising Emotionally Intelligent Kids

    I’m working hard to help my children grow into emotionally intelligent, successful people who can easily integrate into society. I’m working internally on myself before I radiate love out to them. All while making sure they pick up their socks and eat their dinner. Will my work be worth it, and will they look back on their childhood fondly?

    Building Our Homestead

    My husband and I are also working on building our homestead. Last year, I learned how to grow mushrooms (the logs are colonized!), and this year we’re learning how to farrow pigs (first litter due Mother’s Day). Things don’t always go smoothly, but every homestead lesson learned is one that we can apply to the next set of skills. Will we continue to build and expand our homestead?

    Growing My Writing Community

    I’m also working hard on a writing hobby. Ever since I was a little girl, I loved to write. My first short story was about a herd of cows that escaped and exacted revenge on their owner (I was 8, and I grew up on a farm). And now I’m sharing homestead stories about my family and my hobbies. And people are listening and writing back! It is amazing to find kindred spirits out in the world. I hope we meet in person someday. Will I become a successful writer and continue building this community?

    Only you can tell me.

    Feature Photo by Saif Taee on Unsplash

    Which of these three works feels hardest right now—kids, homestead, or writing community? Be honest below!

    Loved this letter to my future self? Like + share if you’re wondering about your own 100-year-old dreams! 💌 Tag your homestead bestie below.

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