Practical Homesteading

Tag: raising kids

  • 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

  • A Moment I Wanted to Freeze—and Why I’m Glad I Didn’t

    A Moment I Wanted to Freeze—and Why I’m Glad I Didn’t

    Daily writing prompt
    What’s a moment you wish you could freeze and live in forever?
    View all responses

    It was Labor Day weekend, about nine months after I started dating the man who is now my husband, in those early days of our relationship. I was on my very first camping trip, and it was our last night before going back to separate cities for school.

    The evening felt perfect in a way that’s hard to recreate—a sky full of stars and that early September air that’s warm with just a hint of chill.

    We walked down to the lake at the campground and found a quiet bench at the end of the pier. He sat, and I stretched out with my head in his lap, looking up at the stars. For a while, we didn’t say much. We stayed there, unhurried, taking it all in.

    I remember thinking, very clearly, I wish I could stay in this moment forever.

    Seventeen years later, I still remember that night—but I see it differently now.

    If time had stopped there, I would have missed everything that came after. We finished school—him first, then me—and slowly built a life together. There were unforgettable trips, but also seasons of difficulty, struggle, and heartbreak. We got married, had two wonderful kids, and stepped into the messy, meaningful work of building a home and a homesteading life together.

    All the things that have shaped us—the joy, the stress, the growth—were still ahead of us in that quiet moment by the lake.

    And as perfect as it felt, it wasn’t the whole story.

    Now, when I think about that night, I’m grateful time didn’t stand still. Because the beauty of that moment wasn’t just in what it was—it was in everything it led to.

    These days, life looks a lot different. It’s louder, fuller, and often far from still. It’s raising kids, growing food, navigating challenges, and finding connection in the middle of everyday routines.

    And maybe that’s the real gift—not freezing time, but living it.

    Even the parts that stretch us.

    Even the parts that don’t feel perfect.

    Because those are the moments that become a life.

    Photo by Evan Tang on Unsplash

    If you could freeze one moment in your life, would you? Or would you let it keep unfolding?

    If you’ve ever looked back on a “perfect” moment and realized life gave you something even fuller—like and share this with someone who’d understand.

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    Read Next: Favorite Shoes Took Me to Alaska and First Homestead

  • An Ideal Summer Day of Simple Homestead Living With Family

    An Ideal Summer Day of Simple Homestead Living With Family

    Daily writing prompt
    Describe your most ideal day from beginning to end.
    View all responses

    Simplicity isn’t about doing less — it’s about noticing more. My ideal day on our little homestead is built around that truth. It’s a day where time stretches wide, full of laughter, sunshine, and slow, simple living.

    Morning Calm and Connection

    The day begins the way I love best — with toddler kisses, a sleepy hug from my six-year-old, and my husband beside me. Before the world fully wakes, we take a quiet moment to breathe together. There are no alarms, no emails, no errands pulling us away. The only plan is to move through the day at a gentle rhythm, enjoying each other’s company and the sweetness of home.

    Breakfast and the Beauty of Routine

    Breakfast is a family affair. My husband gathers eggs while I grind coffee beans and brew a fresh pot. The kids take their favorite jobs — cracking eggs (usually with some shell), preparing pancake batter, and frying bacon. We cook with the windows open, sunlight pouring in and the sound of birds joining our morning conversation.

    The meal is simple and colorful: fresh eggs, pancakes, and bacon from last year’s pigs. It takes longer, but it’s richer in every way because we do it together.

    Hands in the Dirt, Hearts at Ease

    After breakfast, my husband heads out to refill the animals’ water tanks and check the garden fences. Meanwhile, the kids and I harvest what’s ready — sun-warmed tomatoes, crisp cucumbers, and snap peas that rarely make it to the kitchen. We feed the chickens, pick up toys outside, and pause often to feel the warmth of the day settling in.

    The work hums softly in the background; it’s grounding, steady, and quietly joyful — the soundtrack of homestead life.

    Raising Kids on a Homestead

    By late morning, the chores shift to play. We might pack up for an outing — a trip to the library or a shady walk by the Horicon Marsh — or stay close to home and make our own adventure. My husband and son might build something simple, like a birdhouse or garden trellis, while my daughter and I mix water, flower petals, and herbs in the “mud kitchen.”

    These are the moments where raising kids on a homestead feels magical — learning through exploration, imagination, and plenty of sunshine.

    Building Homestead Community

    Around noon, our neighbor stops by with a bag of fresh Amish bakery treats. He stays for a half hour just to chat at the kitchen table while the kids dart in and out. We sip lemonade and trade stories about gardens, weather, and local goings-on.

    These spontaneous visits are at the heart of homestead community — the easy, come-as-you-are friendships that summer invites. When he heads out, we make a quick lunch of garden sandwiches and homemade pickles, laughing over whose plate is the messiest.

    The Rhythm of Slow Living

    The afternoon drifts by in that perfect blend of rest and play. My toddler naps, the older one curls up with a book or joins my husband hoeing the garden, and I steal a few quiet minutes with a book on the bench outside our door. Later, we cool off in the sprinkler, make homemade popsicles, or pick raspberries from the patch.

    The hours stretch unhurried — each one filled with that golden kind of peace slow living on a homestead offers.

    Simple Suppers and Summer Evenings

    As evening settles, supper becomes another shared project. My husband fires up the grill while I toss a big garden salad and slice the first broccoli of the season. The kids set the picnic table beneath the maple tree. We eat outside, barefoot and happy, surrounded by the hum of summer — crickets chirping, bees buzzing, and the sky fading into soft pink.

    After dinner, we linger. Sometimes it’s s’mores over the firepit, other nights it’s catching fireflies or telling stories under the stars.

    The Gift of Enough

    When the kids are asleep, my husband and I share a quiet moment on the park bench — two cold beers, warm night air, and a shared silence that says, “This is exactly where we’re meant to be.”

    These days remind me that simplicity isn’t a destination; it’s a daily choice — a rhythm we return to when life feels too loud. Most of us don’t get many days like this, but even small pieces of them are enough to steady the heart.

    This is my ideal summer day: no deadlines, no projects, no rush. Just the four of us growing food, raising kids, building community, and living a simple homestead life that teaches us how beautiful “enough” really is.

    Feature Photo by Michelle Tresemer on Unsplash

    💬 Tell me about your ideal summer day! What does simple living look like in your home or community? Share your thoughts or your favorite summer traditions in the comments — I love hearing how other families find joy in the everyday.

    💚 If this post resonates with you, please like and share this post to spread the message of simple, grounded living.

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    Next Read: Saturday Morning Family Breakfast: A Recipe for Togetherness

  • What I Complain About Most: Why Farmers Deserve More Appreciation (And How We’re Reconnecting)

    What I Complain About Most: Why Farmers Deserve More Appreciation (And How We’re Reconnecting)

    Daily writing prompt
    What do you complain about the most?
    View all responses

    I used to be a champion complainer—until I realized it never planted a single seed worth growing.

    I try not to complain too much. It’s a nasty habit that usually leaves me feeling worse than before I started. Instead, I try to live by the words of the Serenity Prayer:

    “God, grant me the serenity to accept the things I cannot change,
    The courage to change the things I can,
    And the wisdom to know the difference.”

    When I catch myself slipping into that spiral of frustration, I remind myself of those lines. If there’s something I can fix, I get to work on it. If there isn’t, I try to shift my perspective. Some days, that works beautifully. Other days, not so much—but it’s a practice, and a worthwhile one.

    When Passion Comes from Frustration

    Still, there are some things bigger than myself that I can’t quite let go of—issues that deserve our collective attention. That’s where my frustration tends to turn into passion.

    If you really want to know what gets me on my soapbox, it’s this: how undervalued the foundation of our society has become—the farmer.

    Lessons from the Milking Barn

    I grew up on a dairy farm surrounded by fields, animals, and five hardworking older sisters. My dad, like many farmers, cautioned us not to follow in his footsteps. He didn’t say that out of bitterness; he said it out of love.

    He knew farming demanded endless hours, uncertain pay, and a body that rarely got a day off. The cows still needed milking before dawn, even after a night of broken sleep or if you were sick. The hay still needed to come in, even if rain clouds were gathering on the horizon. And no matter how hard you worked, the weather or the market could undo it all in a single season. With today’s global markets, that uncertainty feels even sharper than it did thirty years ago.

    The Great Disconnect

    Despite all that labor, society often treats farmers as an afterthought. We depend on them for our most basic need: food. Yet we seem disconnected from what it truly takes to put dinner on the table. It’s astonishing how quickly that disconnect happened. In just two or three generations, we’ve gone from home gardens, backyard chickens, and canning jars in the pantry to drive‑thru dinners and foods that travel thousands of miles before reaching us.

    Our modern food system is complicated. We’ve gained convenience but lost some wisdom along the way—wisdom about soil, seasons, and self‑sufficiency. Many children have never pulled a carrot from the ground or gathered a fresh egg. Even adults often feel surprised to learn where their food comes from.

    Marketing Replaces Memory

    Not long ago, I saw a potato chip bag proudly labeled “Made with Real Potatoes,” as if that were some sort of revelation. It made me laugh—and then it made me sad.

    Somewhere along the way, marketing replaced knowledge. We began trusting brands more than the soil, and food became a product instead of a shared experience. When I mentioned it on my Facebook page, people chimed in from everywhere. It turns out, so many of us feel the same way—grateful for convenience, but yearning to reconnect.

    Growing, Raising, and Reconnecting

    That little moment reminded me why I care so deeply about growing food, raising kids, and building community. These things are intertwined. When children understand where their meals come from, when we grow even a small piece of what we eat, when neighbors come together to share skills, seeds, and harvests—we start to rebuild that lost connection. Even something as simple as buying from a local farmers market, planting herbs on a windowsill, or teaching a child how to cook can make a difference.

    So maybe I don’t really complain all that much anymore. Maybe what I’m doing is something better: advocating, educating, and planting small seeds of change and connection in my backyard and in my community. Because while I can’t change the world overnight, I can nurture the soil right in front of me. And that feels like a pretty good start.

    Resources I Recommend

    Disclosure: This section contains Amazon affiliate links. If you purchase through them, I may earn a small commission at no extra cost to you. Thank you for supporting Practical Homesteading!

    If this post stirred something in you, here are a few places to start learning, growing, and preserving more of your own food. I only share resources I truly find useful.

    • Read and reflect: One book that has deeply shaped how I think about food and farming is The Omnivore’s Dilemma by Michael Pollan. It follows several different meals from source to table and invites you to really consider where your food comes from and who grows it. You can buy it in my link or borrow it from your local library.
    • Learn the basics of preserving: The Ball Book of Preserving is a solid, economical place to start if you’re new to canning. It covers the fundamentals clearly without feeling overwhelming, and it’s a great first step into safe home food preservation.
    • Go deeper with more recipes: The Ball Complete Book of Home Preserving is a much more comprehensive resource, with many more recipes and techniques. It’s a bigger investment, but worth it if you discover that preserving is something you love and want to keep expanding.
    • My home preservation essentials: I’ve put together an Amazon list of tools and books I use or recommend for dehydrating, canning, and freezing food at home. You can find it here: Home Preservation Essentials.

    If you have favorite books, tools, or simple tips for beginners who want to grow or preserve their own food, please share them in the comments—I’d love to learn from you, too!

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    Why I Chose Homesteading

    Working mom of 2 shares her homesteading origin story – from Wisconsin dairy farm rebel to choosing chickens, gardening and bread making. Environmental professional finds freedom in practical homesteading.

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  • Finding Fun in Everyday Homestead Life

    Finding Fun in Everyday Homestead Life

    Daily writing prompt
    List five things you do for fun.
    View all responses

    Disclosure: This post contains affiliate links. As an Amazon Associate, I earn from qualifying purchases. Thanks for supporting Practical Homesteading!

    Sometimes the best fun isn’t found in grand adventures—it’s tucked right into our everyday rhythms. Between planting seeds, raising small humans, and building community here in Wisconsin, I’ve learned that joy often hides in the ordinary moments we choose to notice.

    When the WordPress prompt asked me to list five things I do for fun, I realized how naturally my favorite pastimes reflect the life I’m trying to build: creative, connected, and full of good food and laughter.

    Reading: Pages That Connect Us

    I love to read—both to my kids and for myself. There’s something magical about those bedtime moments when little voices beg for “just one more chapter,” and I happily oblige because I want to know what happens next too. Right now, we’re working through a beloved chapter book series, and I think I’m enjoying it as much as they are.

    For my own reading, I recently joined a women’s book club here in town. It’s been such a gift—hearing other interpretations reminds me how stories have the power to connect us. One person reads about history; another sees deep family themes. That diversity of thought is what builds true community.

    When I’m curled up with a good book, a cozy blanket, and a small light that doesn’t wake the kids, it feels like a quiet luxury. A few of my current favorites (plus the book light I love) are on my Book Club Reads (and Reading Essentials) list. As an Amazon Associate, I earn from qualifying purchases at no extra cost to you.

    Writing: Turning the Ordinary Into Art

    In the same way, I love to write. Writing helps me slow down and see the beauty in the everyday—the way morning light hits a mixing bowl, the satisfaction of flour-dusted hands, the chaos and grace of raising small humans.

    My goal through this blog is to encourage others to find meaning in the daily work of nurturing families, cooking homemade meals, and building connection. Writing also helps me process this season of life and celebrate imperfect progress—both mine and others’.

    Cooking: Where Chemistry Meets Creativity

    Cooking is my happy place. I’m not a fancy baker (my pies are usually more “rustic” than refined), but I love experimenting in the kitchen. Cooking feels like both art and chemistry—mixing what’s in season or what’s grown in the garden, testing new flavors, and seeing what happens.

    Recently I brined a sirloin tip roast to make homemade corned beef, and it turned out phenomenal. Watching everyday ingredients transform into something delicious always fills me with joy. Whether I’m simmering soup from scratch or roasting vegetables from the garden, cooking feels like a conversation between the land, my hands, and the people I love.

    Having the right tools makes all the difference—I’ve gathered my go-to cookware and cast-iron favorites on my Kitchen Essentials list.

    Movies: Finding Magic in the Details

    I also love movies. Not just watching them, but appreciating the creative effort behind them—the lighting, music, and editing choices that tell the story even without words.

    I once toured the Warner Brothers studio in California, and seeing behind the scenes gave me a deep respect for the teamwork and imagination required to create movie magic. Now, when I watch films with my family, I see them differently. Add a bowl of homemade popcorn (made with our trusty popcorn maker!) and it’s one of our favorite cozy-night traditions.

    Playing and Exploring: Getting Down to Their Level

    And finally, I play—and explore—with my kids. We build towering pillow forts, race toy cars, and make snow angels when Wisconsin winter delivers a fresh blanket.

    I also make it a point to keep exploring myself. We visit the beach in summer, wander through new museums nearby, and plan one or two short trips a year. Those small adventures keep us curious and connected, reminding me that fun doesn’t have to be far away. It just has to be intentional.

    There’s something humbling and wonderful about getting down to their level, whether that means chasing waves or lying in the snow laughing. When we share those moments, I’m reminded that joy grows in the same soil as gratitude.

    These five (and a half!) things might seem simple. But reading, writing, cooking, movies, playing, and exploring together they create a life rooted in creativity, connection, and care. Whether I’m turning pages, turning phrases, or turning ingredients into dinner, every moment adds to the bigger picture. Growing food, raising kids, and building community here at home.

    What are your favorite small pleasures that make everyday life feel fun? I’d love to hear what fills your family’s days with laughter and joy.

    ❤️ Enjoyed this post?

    If you love finding beauty in everyday homestead life, make sure to like, share, and subscribe for fresh posts on growing food, raising kids, and building community. Your support helps our little online homestead grow!

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    A Short Drive to Heaven: Why Lake Michigan Wins for Us

    Beach or mountains? Which do you prefer? Why? The crunch of gravel echoes under the car tires as I set out for what has become a cherished ritual: a short drive to the nearest beach. It’s funny. When people ask me if I prefer the beach or the mountains, the answer isn’t as simple as…

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