“Lower your expectations, I’m rusty.”

Miss Me? Didn’t Think So. Anyway, I’m Back. Six years later… a house, a 13 acre farm, learning homestead while having paranoia, later...

So, funny story, I blinked and somehow six years passed. Not a single blog post, not even a dramatic “I’m taking a break” announcement. HOW RUDE OF ME. Just vanished like a modern day tinder date.

But here we are. In 2025. And I’ve returned. Stronger, more sarcastic (it’s for survival), and now fully equipped with goats, court documents, and a child who negotiates like she’s my legal representation.

Let’s catch up. Pour a cup of coffee! (Actually don’t cause I’m writing this at 2 am)

2023: We Bought the Dream… and the Chaos

In 2023, we bought a house. A real one. With land, trees, and enough space for me to fulfill my ultimate fantasy; impulsive farm animal acquisitions. My husband (bless him) said no, and I, being the respectful and patient wife I am… ignored him completely and got them anyway.

He now builds them homes. I now pretend that was the plan all along.

Co-Parenting Court Chronicles

In between naming chickens and designing hoop coops or cuddling cows, I’ve also spent the last few years collecting legal documents like Pokemon cards. Co-parenting court dates? Oh honey, I’ve had a series.

It’s been: Emotionally draining, Logistically confusing… And honestly? Emmy-worthy

But like a true villain origin story, I survived. Mostly out of spite. And coffee. There may have been a few days of wine. And whining….

Raising Teenagers…Send Snacks…

We now raise teenagers with feelings so big they deserve their own zip code. One moment we’re bonding, the next they’re accusing me of “ruining their entire life” because I gave them a chore of helping to feed an animal. It is a rollercoaster of hormones, sarcasm, and existential dread.

10/10 would NOT recommend without snacks and a therapist on speed dial. I can recommend a good one by the way…. I’ve been to ALOT.

The Baby Isn’t a Baby Anymore

The baby? Not a baby anymore. She’s now a tiny CEO who has joined the “we need more animals” rebellion. She sweet-talks Dad into goats, chickens, and “just one baby cow,” while I stand smugly in the background like a villain whose apprentice is thriving.

He doesn’t stand a chance.

Homestead Conspiracies: We’re In Deep Now

We used to laugh at the crunchy people online. Now we ARE them. We whisper about seed vaults. We think Big Pharma is shady and that fluoride is sus. If there’s a homestead theory, we’ve probably bookmarked it, built a chicken run around it, and stocked up on garlic “just in case.”

So Why Now?

Because after all the courtrooms, critters, and crying (some theirs, mostly mine), I realized this chaos is my kind of beautiful. And maybe you need to hear from someone who’s winging it… with a baby chick in one hand and glass of wine in the other.

So yes. I’m back.

Welcome to the new era: unfiltered, farm-fueled and slightly feral