06/23/2026
Stupid things people say.
You know that line. Someone sees your garden, your chickens, your jar of lard and says:
"I wish I could stay home full time to homestead. That life looks so peaceful."
Guess what? You can if you work to make it happen & speaking of work, you better be ready to work harder than any 9 to 5 you've every experienced.
Peaceful? Yes. Do I absolutely love it? YES!
BUT. Let me translate what āstay home full time to homesteadā actually means:
6 am: Milk cows. Feed the food you've grown to all stationary livestock colonies & move rotational livestock before "breakfast". Everyone eats before you do.
8 am: Fence is down. Again. Baby pigās in the garden eating tomatoes you were thrilled to get grown without a worm or bird finding it first.
10am: Water everything from plant to poultry. The blazing sun mocking you as you hose yourself down which counts as today's shower, you'll be too tired later anyway.
12pm: Let's finally do "brunch" as you work the kitchen harvests. Freezing, dehydrating, canning what can't wait. Start a cheese. Sort eggs while you pull something out for dinner. Don't even get me started on laundry & dishes.
2pm: Doctor the random animal that got stuck somewhere stupid. The duck who got wrapped in twine (wow she still runs fast), the pig wedged between trough & panel. Baby sheep stuck in field fence. Something dies if you don't make round after round of "putting out fires" .
4pm: Finally get to weeding the garden. 100Ā°F. Mosquitoes. Why didn't I do this before milking the cows? Maybe I should shoot for 5 AM tomorrow. Let's not forget butcher days are coming up. Blood, flies, & your back, hands screaming.
6pm: Family expects dinner? Throw some meat on the cast iron while you walk around locking up coops for the evening hoping the LGD is well rested for night shift as the coyotes start to howl.
9pm: Finally sit down. Power flickers. Stormās coming. You're hoping everything is well prepared. Finally eating dinner.
11pm: Owl got a duck & the geese let you know about it. Wind lifted the baby goose pen. You get that second shower after all, in the middle of a tornado warning & lightning storm as you double check your work preparing for it.
Go to bed soaking wet knowing youāll do it all again tomorrow.
You work to balance weekends & family time. No sick days. No "Iāll do it Monday." Animals donāt care about your PTO. Crops donāt wait. The work is physically demanding dirty, & it never ends.
A 9-5 you can clock out of. Homestead? The job clocks you out eventually.
So yeah, Iām "home full time.ā Iām also the cook, the housekeeper, vet, fence gal, butcher, farmer, gardener & groundskeeper as well a full time caretaker to my disabled daughter.
In all weather. With zero retirement plan except the hog Iāll eat in January because I can't ever imagine the day I'd have to buy that sad pork from a store.
Itās not a vacation. Itās a vocation. And itās beautiful, but itās brutal.
So if you " want it bad enough " you make it happen, just like we did. I used to " work" , own a business, now I actually know real WORK because we set ourselves up for this. We lived small, paid off debt. Bought with cash. Now I have the "PRIVILEGE " to stay home. Mr B now only works 3 days a week because we set ourselves up to work harder for ourselves than anyone else we could give our time away to for an hourly rate.
So next time you say "I wish I could stay home & homesteadāā¦ be careful what you wish for.
We donāt do it because itās easy. We do it because weāre too stubborn to quit.
This is true reality of homesteading not a Pinterest Board.
If you share this sentiment , feel free to tag a hard working homesteader who get paid in eggs & beef instead of cash. If your āpeaceful homestead lifeā already included manure on your boots today, sweat, a laugh, a cry, a shift in plans due to "XYZ" I can relate .
I hope you get a real shower today, seriously.
