Hello Everyone and welcome to our blog! This post is the first of many as we journey through the transition of becoming a tiny family in a tiny home.

Hello, you,

Brother, I'm sure this means very little to you at this point. I crossed lines and burnt a bridge. A bridge that is very important to me. However, I must apologize. Apologize: a word that doesn't even come close to what I want to give you. What I owe you. I love and appreciate you more thank you will ever know. You're the hero. The true definition of a man in these wicked days. You have given me so much. You were there for me. I look up to you. Since my very first memories of you, I've looked up to you. For me to throw things away like I did was not only childish and disgusting, but sad and pathetic. An outburst for the ages.

To my Guardian Angel,

On my way to and from the hospital to go see my grandson, I take a look around. I look at others going on about their day. I know we all have our different struggles in life, and I know at times it seems unbearable, but it wasn’t until I watched my grandson fight for his life several times, that I realized, if he could fight being only days old, I could too.

Emigrating is hard, especially leaving loved ones. Those who stay also suffer a "mourning", especially difficult if they are children or teenagers who are separated from one or both parents for a time, sometimes uncertain, while they go abroad, stabilize and make a plan to reunite.

A triathlon, like fatherhood, is a multiple-stage event. It involves the completion of three continuous and sequential endurance disciplines of which swimming is just one of them. It's one of my favourite examples that draw parallels to becoming a father, because, like triathletes, us fathers will have to go through multiple-stage events throughout our children’s life (New babies, toddlers, adolescent teens and then adulthood). What are the 3 stages I hear you pondering! Well! The stages (or the Legs) of a Triathlon start with the "hardest" event first; Swimming then it goes on to the cycling event and then finally the running stage.

From the moment we pee on a stick and find out the reason we are so moody and bloated, is because a tiny little human has started to form in our womb, we begin to think about the kind of parent we want to be. There is nothing more personal than parenting…

For many women, and I know for me, finding out you are pregnant comes with an onslaught of thoughts shortly after seeing that little red line. Many questions come to mind. How will my life change when this baby is born? Am I ready to become a parent? Will I have a boy or a girl? Is labor really as painful as it is made out to be on TV? Among all of these questions, one that lingers and continues to become more and more of a question an expectant mother wants to figure out an answer to is: Should I continue working or become a stay at home mom?

Divorce affects every child differently. However, all children of divorce do best when both parents stay actively involved in their lives. This continuing connection makes a positive difference for children of all ages—even teens—minimizing the fact that their parents no longer live together.

According to the every-now-and-then reminder notice from Facebook (also known as Memories), it's been six years since I took Alex to a celebratory lunch after we attended his graduation ceremony for promoting from Tevis Junior High School to Stockdale High School. I was so proud of him, and it was some rare quality time he and I would share that became less and less common as he got older, and I moved farther away.

How can this be? I know I am a woman at heart, but am a father... of four boys, nonetheless. As if raising four boys to become amazing men wasn’t full of its own challenges. Throw my being transgender and it’s quite an adventure. How lucky am I though to be a parent of blood borne children! I am so blessed!

Emigrating is hard, especially leaving loved ones. Those who stay also suffer a "mourning", especially difficult if they are children or teenagers who are separated from one or both parents for a time, sometimes uncertain, while they go abroad, stabilize and make a plan to reunite.

So if you read my intro, you know a little bit about me by now. If you didn't, I'll give you a short run down. I am a busy body stay at home (for now until my return to full time employment, which will mean a whole new schedule plan - we will cross that bridge when we get there!) mom and farm wife - I look after my one year old son, our four pet cats, our four German Shepherd dogs, plus a herd of fifteen head cattle and four horses. It's winter time, which means my duties are double what they would normally be, since I have to make sure everyone is still thriving in this dreadful cold, and all our maintenance is up to date on our home and our vehicles. Safety and assurance are key when you live outside of town and not near a hospital or emergency services.

Infidelity is Never Free

Hello, you,

To my Guardian Angel,

As a parent of 3 grown children, and a grandmother or Nana of 4 young ones, I have never had more joy, fear, worry, laughter, anguish, and heartache in my life then when I started having kids. There are so many different beautiful and ugly things about having kids it is more of an oxymoron than ironic. As children ourselves it never crosses our minds what we put our parents through. I mean why would it? We are too busy playing with our friends, discovering new and weird things everyday or just plain too hungry or tired to care. As a child all we truly understand is that we are cold, hot, hungry, tired, scared, happy, too full, alone or hurt. As a child we look to the one source that can solve every problem we have, our mom or dad. Until we have a child of our own, regardless of age, understanding the requirements and mandatory duties involved in solving all those issues that are so important, do these issues start to become another thing altogether. I never worried about where I would sleep, having clean cloths, food in my stomach or an education. I did not have too because I had my mom for all of that. I used to always wonder why she was so tired and cranky. Was it something I said, I did or did not do? Did someone else upset my mommy? Why was she so tired all the time? These were what I worried about. Not what needed ti be worried about for sure. My mother raised me and my brother as a single parent for half of our lives. She worked 2 jobs most if the time. Lived with other to help cut the cost of raising 2 kids on her own. I worshipped my mom and the ground she walked on. So it was only natural that the first time I found out I was pregnant that I would turn to her. That was the beginning of the end of my life and only living for myself. Even as I went through my pregnancy I did not grasp the concept of being 100% responsible for another living and breathing human being. All I knew then was that I would love this child, and the child would love me, like no other person in the world. I actually believed that my love for this little being would be enough. I mean my mom did it so how hard could it really be right? Well I most certainly found out after 9 months of difficult pregnancy, and I thought that was rough. Of course after the first one how difficult could two be? I mean by now I have the diapers figured out, the naps, and the first stages of a baby. I got this! Oh Boy was I ever wrong!! It never in my life accord to me that this was just the beginning of my trials and tribulations. I suppose I just never bothered to envision far enough into the future to see all the scares I would have because my oldest thought he was invincible as the car came speeding down the street right at him. Or how about the fear I had when my second child's father took him away? Or even the terror I would feel as my youngest child was lifted 30 feet into the air, strapped in a cloth binding that I prayed wasn't damaged, and then released to soar through the air as if on a gigantic swing. I actually thought I was having a heart attack that day. Again still not the worst of it, still just the beginning because they were so young still. As they grew well so did the problems and the mandatory support they needed. Many people would think that when I say mandatory support I am referring to money. As much as that is needed and basically required to raise a child it is not what I reference regarding support. No as they grew the mandatory support needed is more on an emotional and a mental requirement. None of us are born automatically knowing how to cope with life and all of it's complexities. So we look to the bigger people that give us food and shelter to teach us. Now that my children are full grown, and two having had children of their own, I get to see those sacrifices panned out. I realize that not every story is the same for everyone. I do believe though that regardless of your own personal story as parents in one way or another we make a sacraffice when we chose to bring a child into the world, and this story just happens to be mine.

My aunt is very aggravating. For the sake of privacy (not that I'm sure she will ever read this, but still), I'm going to call her "Becky." Everyone has a Becky in their life. As I go on to describe the defining features of a Becky, I'm sure you'll be to pick out which family member or friend is your Becky.

When Ruthie Ann was halfway out the birth canal, the doctor told Brenda to take a deep breath and prepare to push. When she did, Ruthie’s fragile, premature, little body slipped back into the birth canal, depriving her of precious oxygen for 45 seconds. In a panic, the doctor reached inside and pulled Ruthie into the world. It seemed as though the physician made a horrible mistake, which would ultimately lead to Ruth Ann’s physical disability, later diagnosed as Cerebral Palsy. However, because I am from the non-physical world and understand things from a higher perspective, I will tell you that this event was no accident caused by a doctor. In actuality, this act was the fulfillment of Ruthie’s own spiritual destiny. In a spiritual sense, she already knew the difficulties she was about to encounter in this lifetime. In a moment, her spirit hesitated as she tried to retreat to the warmth and comfort of her mother’s womb just one second before she was fully present in the physical world. It was in that second Ruthie questioned her resolve to fulfill her destiny. She did not feel ready to endure such hardships in the life that lay ahead. Understandably she tried to escape the difficulties that she would face by retreating back into her mother’s womb.

Yes, that’s what she was called. I don’t know if I ever remembered her given name. But Aunt Mute it was.

9:00 AM. I wake up from the voice outside my room, “Raani, bring two more slices of bread in the dining area”



Last names are an interesting thing. Everyone has one and you really have no say in what it is. You use your last name for reservations, work paperwork, and really in every aspect of your life. You are either born with your given last name or married into it and at that point most people just accept their last name. You could legally change it, but who really wants to go through the process.

It was terminal, that's what the doctor said. Mary now had at most 12 months to live. What does anyone do with news like this? Most people would say knock at least three things off your bucket list, but Mary was a type of person who got on her bucket list at the age of 15 and knocked everything off.

During my childhood visitors to my grandmother’s home often wouldn’t stop at the front door. Instead they would head straight for the side gate that led to her back yard and grab hold to the opening latch. There they would fall silent and still as they carefully surveyed the area. Only the untrained visitor or the most foolish friends entered Nana’s back yard unannounced. Nana was known to have the near bipolar quality of being loving and generous to her friends and neighbors in one instant yet ready in the next to run them through with various garden implements if they infringed on the boundaries of her property. In particular, visitors to the back yard were seen as possible spies come to steal her gardening genius. This behavior was especially perplexing to new friends who no doubt had been told at some point and time to “Stop by and see my old piece of garden”, by none other than Nana herself.

What surprised me most is how worried I was.

Have you ever thought of getting your grand mom a unique Christmas gift? Maybe a turkey air fryer or a pair of matched pajamas? Most of the time, we tend to think that other than the shopping you give to your grand moms, a Christmas card is the best complimentary gift you can add on top. It doesn’t have to be this way all the time; though they may be hard to please, there are unique gifts that can make them happy. These Christmas gift ideas can help you find something suitable for your grand mom this festive season.

On my way to and from the hospital to go see my grandson, I take a look around. I look at others going on about their day. I know we all have our different struggles in life, and I know at times it seems unbearable, but it wasn’t until I watched my grandson fight for his life several times, that I realized, if he could fight being only days old, I could too.

This is my personal story of my family's ordeal of Hurricane Florence and how humanity can restore your faith when you have nothing.

There were a variety of horror stories my mother would share about her first few years with my dad, even long before I was a thought he had put his hands on her . His own sister once told my mom to “stay away from Earl, he is crazy and violent” .

A triathlon, like fatherhood, is a multiple-stage event. It involves the completion of three continuous and sequential endurance disciplines of which swimming is just one of them. It's one of my favourite examples that draw parallels to becoming a father, because, like triathletes, us fathers will have to go through multiple-stage events throughout our children’s life (New babies, toddlers, adolescent teens and then adulthood). What are the 3 stages I hear you pondering! Well! The stages (or the Legs) of a Triathlon start with the "hardest" event first; Swimming then it goes on to the cycling event and then finally the running stage.

Building strong connections with trusted adults can give kids a sense of security and a better foundation for achieving their potential. Make spending time together a priority with these engaging activity ideas that allow the whole family to get in on the fun.

According to a study by Money Magazine, 70% of couples fight about money and those who fight once a week about money are 30% more likely to get divorced than couples who fight once a month. This study highlights the importance of sorting out your finances before tying the knot.

Hello Everyone and welcome to our blog! This post is the first of many as we journey through the transition of becoming a tiny family in a tiny home.

As Emma made herself comfortable, laughing and making small talk, her voice drifted over the air until it faded, echoing from the direction in which she was headed. Not alone, of course - she had that gift of drawing along a tow of handsome looking blokes and some ladies too.

I should note, that this is actually a letter that I sent to my father as my therapist suggested. I wanted him to know how much he hurt me. I never heard back from him, and I am glad. Maybe, someone can relate to this, you know even if one person feels like they are not alone after reading this, then I am glad I have put it out there. Love, Mash.

It was my brother’s fifth birthday party, nothing crazy, just family members and close friends sitting outside on a beautiful spring day. I don’t remember much of it, being that it was nearly ten years ago now, but I do remember the cake. And, oh, what a cake it was. Double chocolate with vanilla buttercream frosting, and a bright red picture of elmo’s face screened on. When my mom asked me what piece I wanted, I insisted on having Elmo’s smile, and I planned on coming back for the rest of him later. However, when I did come back, he was gone. Understandably I was devastated. I scanned the back porch for possible suspects, ruling out my cousin Ben and uncle Steve swiftly - Ben was too little to eat cake and Steve didn’t like chocolate - before fixating on the plate in front of the birthday boy himself. Of course. Of course it had to be him. Yes, it was his birthday, but I saw Elmo first. Not taking a single second to think my spur-of-the-moment plan through, I stomped up to the cake thief and was quick to mush his face into the piece. A brief second of silence. Then wailing. Oh the wailing, it was epic, even for a five-year-old. Now was the time to make my getaway, with mom no where to be seen and dad in the house, out of sight. I chose our toy jeep as my means of escape, battery powered and with the coolest blue wheels. With my brother now on his feet and my mom making her way around the side of the house I was quick to launch myself in the seat. A bare foot reached for the pedal, one hand on the steering wherl and the other on the gear shift. He was gaining ground behind me, she was breaking into a light jog in front of me. I floored it. Sweet freedom was mine, nothing could stop me! Off into the sundhine I would go!

If you sat down next to me and asked me what family meant to me, would you want to hear me say that it’s all kittens and rainbows, love and being there for one another? People who always have your back? That would be nice to hear wouldn’t it? Too bad I’m not here to tell you any version like that. My family deserves to be a reality tv show with how fucked up we are. There’s room for everyone.

I've worked at a frozen yogurt shop/coffee shop for over 3 years now. Yes that's right, a yogurt AND coffee shop, we sell both. It's a quiet job that has given me a chance to interact with a large variety of everyday people, and witness numerous encounters between those people that I believe can give us all a glimpse into what life is truly about. These are those stories.


And an unloving, tyrannous, brutal man needs no motive to prompt his cruelty; he needs only the perpetual presence of a woman he can call his own. A whole park full of tame or timid-eyed animals to torment at his will would not serve him so well to glut his lust of torture; they could not feel as one woman does; they could not throw out the keen retort which whets the edge of hatred.


This is my mother.

Brother, I'm sure this means very little to you at this point. I crossed lines and burnt a bridge. A bridge that is very important to me. However, I must apologize. Apologize: a word that doesn't even come close to what I want to give you. What I owe you. I love and appreciate you more thank you will ever know. You're the hero. The true definition of a man in these wicked days. You have given me so much. You were there for me. I look up to you. Since my very first memories of you, I've looked up to you. For me to throw things away like I did was not only childish and disgusting, but sad and pathetic. An outburst for the ages.

When I was four-years-old, my family lived in an Air Force Base in Biloxi, Mississippi. Townhouses lined up side-by-side in our neighborhood. Every house was a different color. It was like living in a box of crayons.