Tea With Honey

We thought we’d made it.   After the chaos, the heartbreak, the legal battles—we thought Dolgeville was our soft landing. Quiet streets. Trees that whispered peace. A house that felt like it had been waiting for us. But we didn’t even get that far into moving in.   We made it there. That’s all. Walking through the door was an immediate blow to the senses—animal urine, feces, and over twenty years of nicotine soaked into the walls, ceilings, floors. It was everywhere. In everything. Filthy furnishings still cluttered the house, untouched and reeking. We all piled into the living room to sleep, but who could sleep in that smell?   We felt sick. Overwhelmed.   There was no running water.   We had to use the toilet, spray it down with a hose, and plunge it just to force a flush. It wasn’t a sanctuary.   It was a health hazard.   And more than that—it was a heartbreak. We left.   And just like that, we were techn...

You don’t always recognize the turning point when you’re in it. Sometimes it looks like crumpled closing documents, tear-stained cheeks, or a house you loved becoming someone else’s. We spent years as “Mom and Dad.” Years anchored in the rhythms of raising kids—school drop-offs, bedtime stories, backyard birthdays. And slowly, beautifully, those chapters gave way to new ones: our oldest expecting her third child, our youngest engaged and planning a wedding, and our son, bold and ready, buying his first condo and launching a business of his own. Suddenly it was just Josh and Kim . Not who we were before the kids, but something gentler. Wiser. A little worn, but still full of hope. We contemplated selling our home—not out of whimsy, but necessity. We needed clarity. A place we could own outright. No mortgage. No weight we couldn’t carry. Just sanctuary. And it wasn’t easy. From confusing documents to inflated closing costs, we fought every step. We even almost bought a home in Maine—unti...

From swing disputes to teenage squabbles—sometimes you just need a grip on the situation.   They say siblings are built-in best friends. I say they're also built-in sparring partners. Whether it’s a tug-of-war over a cookie or an all-out emotional showdown over the TV remote, the sibling dynamic is as unpredictable as a toddler’s taste buds. In our house, I’ve learned that peace doesn’t come from perfect fairness—it comes from creative parenting. Exhibit A: the “hand-hold method.”  👐 The Method That Works Like Magic One day, in the middle of a loud, dramatic standoff between my kids about who touched the remote last (very serious business), I pulled out a wild card. I made them hold hands. Not just a quick grasp—I told them they couldn’t let go until they calmed down and talked it out themselves. There were groans. There were limp fingers. There may have been a few theatrical sighs. But somewhere between the awkward grip and reluctant giggles, something shifted. They tal...

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Tea with Honey for Parents Who Need a Moment <3 Parenting is beautiful—and exhausting. Some days you’re juggling tantrums, teething, and tying shoes while trying to remember if *you* even had breakfast. In the whirlwind of caregiving, a cup of tea with honey isn’t just a drink—it’s a small act of self-kindness. 💛 Why Tea with Honey Feels Like a Hug Soothes the soul: That warm mug has a magical way of easing stress and grounding your thoughts. Natural remedy: Fighting off your toddler’s latest cold? Honey + herbal tea can calm your throat and settle your nerves. A moment of pause: Even five minutes of quiet sipping can restore your sense of self. 🍵 Family-Friendly Tea Tips Chamomile: A gentle option to share with older kids before bedtime. Peppermint or ginger**: Great for digestive woes (you *or* your picky eater).  **Honey rule**: Wait until age 1 to give honey to little ones—but you can enjoy that sweetness all to yourself until then. 👪 **Make It a Ritual** Start a new trad...

The Unspoken Transition from Full-Time Mom to...  Something Else They don’t tell you that the hardest part of parenting isn’t the toddler tantrums or the teenage moods—it’s the stillness that comes after. The silence that hums too loudly when the door doesn’t burst open at 3:45, when there are no band concerts to rush to, or softball uniforms to wash. When the kitchen hums with nothing but your own thoughts—and maybe, if you’re lucky, a little Aerosmith turned up loud enough to drown them out for a bit. There’s no ceremony for this stage. No “You Did It!” banner fluttering over your head when your kids step into adulthood. Instead, there’s a quiet unraveling—a slow shift from being needed every day to wondering where you fit in now.  I wish someone had warned me about the ache. The depression that sneaks in like fog after the storm, not because you want them to need you forever, but because you don’t know who you are without being needed. When your days aren’t wrapped around s...

In the thick of our family’s busiest years, Josh and I were working full-time jobs—sometimes more. We weren’t poor, but we weren’t lounging in luxury either. Just a family doing our best to stay afloat, keep the fridge stocked, and the kids pointed in the right direction. Between school band, baseball, softball, track, wrestling, and who-knows-what-else, our schedules looked like color-coded chaos. But we knew early on that if we didn’t carve out space for family time, we’d lose the very thing we were all working so hard to hold onto. So we did. And we did it with heart—and on a budget. 🎲 Game Night or Bust Friday or Saturday nights were sacred. Game night didn’t need much—just popcorn, a few good laughs, and the willingness to lose gracefully to your kids. We’d play *Apples to Apples*, *Pictionary*, *Jenga*, *Clue*, and classic card games (but never *Monopoly*—life's too short and tempers are too fragile). As the kids got older, the games got a little edgier—*Cards Against Humani...