Why vegan cheese is not for me

I know I haven't blogged in a while. I've been recovering from Christmas, being in a ham induced coma (I have NO self control when it comes to pork products), and dealing with unruly children who really need to go back to school before mommy flips her lid.

Anyways, I've had some health issues lately that i've been neglecting.  I'm allergic to gliadin (a protein found in gluten).  I'm not supposed to eat it, but i'm lazy and I love crappy food.  Carbs, sweets, and McDonald's make me happy.  I'm not going to lie.  But in giving into my cravings, i've also been making myself sick.  My kids have a lot of the same issues. My hubby really shouldn't be eating gluten or dairy either, but that's like trying to tell a gorilla he can't eat bananas anymore.

I've been researching my little heart out about what it takes to go on a gluten and dairy free diet and what i've found is depressing.  I can't really eat fast food anymore. BOO. I have had to completely substitute stuff in my homemade mochas and grabbing a mocha at my beloved Dutch Bros isn't really possible anymore. Double boo poo poo.

Last night my hubby wanted pizza.  The kids and I have been gluten free before but never gluten free and dairy free.  I went to Trader Joe's and Winco and managed not to flip anyone off so i'd say I handled myself pretty well. Perhaps this new diet is starting to change my moods for the better….errr or not.  I did mutter the B word under my breath to someone who nearly ran me over at the cross walk on the way into Winco.

So after nearly dropping $1,000 on gluten free and dairy free food (okay I didn't really spend that much but good gravy this stuff isn't cheap!), I finally made it home.  By this point I was starving as we were out of all the good gluten free snack food at home so I think all I had eaten so far was a handful of dry Chex mix.  I started to make my GFCF (gluten free casein free) pizza on Udi's crusts which are gluten & dairy free and outrageously expensive and kind of resemble cardboard.   I slathered my fresh mushroom marinara sauce on the crusts and then I opened the Trader Joe's Vegan Mozzarella Style Shreds, which is supposed to be a non dairy substitute for cheese.  Oh the cheese.  Where do I start?  The smell of the "cheese" when I opened the bag nearly knocked me out.  My hubby said it smelled worse than a McDonald's Playland on a hot summer day.  Yes, the aroma of butt crack and feet.  Not a good combo.  I took a little bite and quickly washed it down with Diet Coke (yes, I realize Diet Coke isn't healthy but baby steps here people).  I was really hoping that it was miraculously somehow going to taste like real cheese and not rotten assholes after it melted.

Meanwhile my hubby headed out to Pizza Hut to buy himself and the older kids real pizza while I was left to cook the GFCF pizzas for myself and the younger kids.  When the timer beeped I anxiously pulled out my pizzas and gagged.  They smelled horrific.  And they looked even worse than they smelled.  I didn't get a picture because I was too busy vomiting (yes vomiting) in the kitchen sink.  I was literally gagging, choking and crying in the kitchen.  My expensive pizzas looked like a crime scene.  The cheese had morphed into this slimy, goopy, runny mess.  I know I could describe it better but my gag reflex is actually going off right now while i'm typing.  If you picked up a piece of pizza the cheese just dripped and oozed right off and not in a good way.  Like a freaky science experiment gone bad kind of way.  I took a tiny bite and immediately spit it out and I was back at the sink puking.

Then I got pissed!  My expensive dinner was a pile of diarrhea.  What was I going to feed the boys? I started to panic.  So I grabbed a giant pizza cutter and picked up the pizzas one by one and literally just scooped everything off the crusts.  The cheese just ran right off the pizza like water.  What was left on the tray will forever haunt my dreams and give me nightmares.  Seriously.  Luckily I had some pizza sauce left so I spread new sauce on the Udi's crusts and added real cheese (yes, i'm a bad girl but after what I went through I didn't care at this point).  I cooked the pizza and the boys loved it, however, I could still taste the "vegan cheese" remains that had oozed into the crust.  So I sat down on the couch with a slice of Pizza Hut pizza on my plate.  I gave my hubby the look and said, "Yes, I know i'm not supposed to eat this, but I really don't give a shit right now".  I was trembling and shaking.  He just shrugged and said, "Okay, whatever."  However, I wasn't okay. It was the straw that broke the emotionally unstable camel's back.  I started picturing that runny, disgusting cheese snot and I dropped my plate and ran into my bedroom and threw myself on my bed and sobbed like the world was over, like Diet Coke didn't exist anymore, like Dutch Bros was bankrupt, like donuts were suddenly prescription only and you had to meet a $1300 deductible before you could buy one.  Yeah, kinda like that.

My hubby ran into the bedroom to see what was wrong and just stood there kind of stunned.  He waited a minute and then was like, "Really babe? Over some cheese? I really hope you blog about this, because this is freaking hilarious.  You really need to get a grip."

After I stopped sobbing and doing the Nancy Kerrigan, "WHYEEEE me?" routine, I managed to eat my Pizza Hut pizza (yes, covered in gluten, dairy and pure deliciousness) and then I started to see a little bit of humor in the situation.  That said, Trader Joe's is still getting an earful from me.  Oh yes, they are!

The battle of the gingerbread houses

My hubby begged and pleaded (okay more like put his foot down and insisted) that I blog about the little fiasco he calls "the battle of the gingerbread houses".  Since I certainly do my fair share of making fun of him on my blog, I guess I do kind of owe him (another) one.

I'm not sure who's idea it was to make gingerbread houses.  I think it was actually mine, but i'm going to pretend that it wasn't because holy guacamole, it was anything but fun.

We decided to use graham crackers because I don't even know how you'd attempt to make gingerbread. Did I mention I don't even own a rolling pin?  So I headed out to Winco to buy all the crap (I mean supplies) for the houses.  I ended up buying Skittles, Twizzlers, and a bunch of candy in bulk like the assorted hard candies (that taste like ass), and spiced gum drops (also repulsively disgusting).  I swear you would think that since I purposely bought candy that I don't like, that I would refrain from eating, but nope, I probably guzzled half a pound of ass-tastic candy.  Damn Depo!

As i'm heading up to the counter with what surely was $100 worth of supplies, I see them.  A whole freaking display of already assembled gingerbread kits for $8 that came complete with everything you needed to make the perfect gingerbread house. You've got to be kidding me!  Why they put them in the checkout aisles and not in the oh I don't know….BAKING AISLE is beyond me, but this is Winco and you all know how I feel about that (if you haven't go back and read old Winco thread).  I had already wasted over an hour of my life at the store and I didn't want to have to go back and put all the gingerbread crap away so homemade gingerbread (graham cracker) houses it was!  By the time I got home the kids were foaming at the mouth to get started.

This is how excited my kids get when they are sitting next to a plate full of candy...

I mixed up the frosting (yes, I actually used a homemade frosting recipe recommended for gingerbread houses) and we eagerly got started.  My hubby started helping Peanut, while I helped our 5 y/o son.  I had no idea what we were in for, but OH MY WORD this was not going as planned.  My house can best be described as a mushy pile of broken down shit.  My hubby who is one of those annoying people that is good at every freaking thing he touches was kicking my butt.  And it made me mad.  No, it's not a competition but dammit! Why do I suck at all things domestic, or artistic?

This is my house after an hour of attempting to slap that bitch together….

This is my hubby's….

and a frontal view

So, needless to say he ended up building all 3 gingerbread (graham) cracker houses while I silently cursed under my breath.  We left them overnight to dry and tonight I was in charge of helping the kids decorate them while the hubby left to run some last minute errands.  Holy hell, what a mess!  I seriously think I need my head examined for coming up with this idea.  Seriously, punch me square in the face if you hear me mention the words "gingerbread (graham cracker) houses" next year.

The houses are done, my dining room table is destroyed and my kids are running around like test tube gerbils on crack because they are all hopped up on sugar.  But it was worth it. Yes, definitely worth it. 

Guest Post for Aunt Bessie's

*This is a sponsored post for Aunt Bessie's not written by myself.  I hope you will check out the funny video link.  It made me giggle. 

Master Chef or Master Of Time?

Between The Great British Bake Off, Saturday Morning Kitchen and the abundance of new cooking programmes that air ever week, there’s no disputing the fact that cooking is the new ‘cool’ activity.

It seems that today everyone understands their gratins and their granitas and can spot the different between a coulis and a jus. But while we all love the tension and the tantrums of TV cooking, few of us have the time for such gourmet creations ourselves.

After a long day in the office or hours of running around after the kids, for most of us the act of boiling the kettle can feel like a challenge, never mind reaching for the spaghetti.

The good news is that quick food doesn’t need to mean flavourless creations or pot noodle fare – and here’s how:

The Cheat’s roast

We all know the tastiest Sunday roasts come with attention and detail. One of the best ways to create a sumptuous roast dinner without the added effort is by cutting corners when creating your sides.

But cutting corners on time doesn’t need to mean cutting corners on taste. When creating sides like roast potatoes or the classic Yorkshire pudding, Aunt Bessie’s hassle-free Yorkshire puddings always come out gloriously big, fluffy and delicious, while her crispy roast potatoes are fluffy on the inside and perfectly crunchy on the outside.

You need only watch the brands latest advertisement to see the impact these convenient dinner table ingredients can have. The latest adventures of nosy neighbours Margaret and Mable see them accept a dinner invite which they expect to under-deliver on quality. Yet, instead of a rushed mid-week meal from a busy working family, they are treated to a full roast which took less than one hour to prepare!

The great thing about this advert is that it proves that it’s possible to create a nutritious meal quickly and easily during the week, but also, doing so could allow you to finally put judgemental food critics firmly in their place!

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How do you blog with a broken heart?

Thursday night I was sitting at a painfully, horrendous choir concert for my 13 year old daughter, gigging to my hubby about the interesting musical selections, and the not so flattering, humpty dumpty style dresses the choir director picked out for the girls. I was making lots of "Oh, i'm SO blogging about this tomorrow" comments. I had the blog post all written out in my head. It was going to be witty and hilarious and I couldn't wait to post it.

Instead I woke up Friday morning to one of the most horrific and disturbing acts of violence this country has ever seen. Beautiful, precious, innocent lives were taken in a cruel and inhumane way.  And my heart broke into a billion little pieces. And it's still broken and I don't know how to fix it.  I truly have no words to adequately express how completely devastated I am for the family and friends of the victims of the Sandy Hook Elementary School shooting.  I would also like to add the two victims of the Clackamas Town Center shooting that happened right here in Portland, just a few days prior. My heart just hurts, my eyes burn from the tears, and I haven't been sleeping well.  These past few days have been a blur. I feel myself going through the motions of the day, but I couldn't really tell you what I did at the end of the day, if that makes any sense.  I'm sure there are lots of things I probably should say, but I just don't have the words, so this will have to do.

Life On Peanut Layne will be observing the Blogging Day of Silence on Tuesday to show my love, respect and support for the victims lost.   I promise I will be back with my usual humor and ridiculousness soon, but I still need some time.  Some time to just be.

Here is a beautiful song that I love and wanted to share: 

Microwave Meltdown

This is a short and sweet (and completely ridiculous) post about my life.   I'm going to address it to Peanut since I want to drop kick him in the buttcrack right now.

Dearest Peanut,

I realize you are not quite three yet, but mommy has had enough of your daily microwave meltdowns.  Why oh why do you insist on pushing the button to open the microwave door and then you must be the one to close it.  And let's not forget that you have to be the one to press the start button.  If anyone else does this, you go ape shit crazy.  If you even hear someone opening the microwave door, you come tearing down the hallway, screaming like one of those annoying ass, famous (worthless) housewives on TV who just discovered they're out of Botox.  Why oh why when the microwave beeps do I then have to pick you back up (all 30 lbs of you) so that you can open the microwave and close it again?  Mommy's starting to look like a female bodybuilder with the ginormous biceps i've added from all the lifting.  Did I mention i'm not ready to go all the way with this, because I would not look good with a beard or a spray tan?  So please just stop it already!!!!

And by the way, is the microwave really that exciting?  Does it just add that certain special sparkle to your day?  Is there a reason your day is completely and utterly shattered if any of these steps are omitted?  I really don't get it, and believe me, I tried hard to put myself in your shoes. I mean I love the microwave just as much as you do. In fact I actually prefer it over certain members of my mother's side of the family to be perfectly honest. I rely on that microwave.  We've developed a very special relationship that microwave and I. And listen….I know your days are super stressful with all the endless hours of watching the Fresh Beat Band, playing with Playmobil on the floor, being waited on hand and foot by some taller, ugly looking woman who wears hideously beastly clothes and yells a lot.   I get it. Your life is rough.  But seriously, if you don't stop this behavior, I may just have to break the microwave, or learn to cook something that doesn't actually require a microwave, and that would really suck.

Sincerely,
Your overworked, stressed out, Depo-induced, crazy biotch of a mother.  

Easy do it yourself mochas using the microwave

I have a confession.  I'm totally, completely, 100%, addicted to mochas.  It's true.  

Forget the diamonds. This is all it takes to make me a very happy woman: 

Being a stay at home mom of five, crazy kids can be rough.  This is how I look and feel most days: 

By the end of the day I look forward to my mocha.  No, scratch that. I NEED my mocha. I have gotten into this habit of running to get a white chocolate caramel mocha every single day, after I pick up the kids from school.  It makes me feel instantly more relaxed and just….human!  However, it hasn't been kind to my bank account.  Those little suckers add up quick! Think about it….one small mocha is approx. $3.35 (i'm using an average price between my 3 favorite coffee places).  That's $100 a month! GASP! $100 a month just on mochas!  Crazy!!!!  

So, I made a vow that I would stop buying mochas and just make coffee at home.  But after drinking mochas, making coffee at home just doesn't work for me.  So, I decided to experiment at home and make my own mocha. The problem is I suck at all things cooking.  Most of the tutorials I found online required an espresso machine, or other expensive, complicated ingredients or instructions that I didn't understand.  Too fancy and expensive for my blood.  I should mention that we have a $20 coffee maker from Walmart.  After reading several tutorials, I decided to try my own and it worked.  Does it taste like Starbucks or Dutch Bros?  No.  It doesn't.  I'm sorry to burst your bubble.  However, it was still rich and delicious and completely satisfied my mocha craving so still a huge success and it cost a fraction of what just one small mocha would cost from a local coffee stand.  

Here's what you'll need: 

Ingredients: 

1/3 cup milk

1 packet of hot chocolate 

1 to 1 1/2 cups of brewed coffee 

Torani flavored syrup (optional)

Whipped cream (optional)

Directions: 

I first started brewing the coffee in my coffee maker.  You don't need much. I made a little over a cup of coffee.   While I was waiting for the coffee, I dumped one packet of hot chocolate mix into the bottom of a large mug.  Then I heated up 1/3 cup of milk in the microwave for approx 30 seconds.  Add the heated milk and brewed coffee into your mug with the hot chocolate powder.  Stir really well.  Add a little bit of flavored syrup.  I LOVE caramel so I added two small spoonfuls of caramel syrup into my mocha.   You can also add some whipped cream on top.  I always get whipped cream on my mochas, but I didn't have any at home today, so I skipped this part, but I WILL be buying some whipped cream at the grocery store tonight for my next mocha. 

My mocha came out smooth, rich, chocolately, and delicious.  And now I don't feel the need to drive to my local coffee stand to buy a mocha.  I'm sure i'll be missed by my baristas and my punch cards will remain unpunched in my wallet, but my bank account is doing cartwheels right now, as is my hubby who has started to notice his wife's daily mocha habit (I think the pile of empty coffee cups in the recycling bin tipped him off).  

So hurry up and go make yourself a mocha! You deserve it :)

O Christmas Tree

After two days of what can only be explained as pure holiday family hell, we finally got our Christmas tree up.

Isn't it glorious?  

You might be wondering why it's not decorated.  Well sit back and let me tell you.  Because it wouldn't be Christmas in the Peanut household without a little blood, sweat, and tears (and cussing).  

We were supposed to get our Christmas tree on Tuesday.  However, my husband came home from work acting more like Bill Murray from Scrooged, rather than his usual bubbly, sunshiney self (insert sarcasm here if you must).  My 13 year old daughter suddenly decided to act like Satan, and it was just one of those really crappified days where nothing goes as planned. The hubby ended up resigning himself to the bedroom, the kids went to bed, and I raided the pantry (damn Depo shot that makes me stuff my face like the little piggy that could). 

So yesterday was a new day and we were hell bent on getting that stupid tree.  The hubby and I left the house after dinner and headed a few miles down the road towards the store.  We buy a real tree, but we aren't hardcore or anything and don't go trekking out into the woods to find our tree like the Griswold's.  Our family out in the wilderness equals a very BAD idea.  We'd be that family that got lost and ended up trapped in our minivan for 7 days surviving on leftover french fries under the seat.  See there is a benefit to never cleaning out your car! 

Anyways, we arrived at Fred Meyer. You Pacific North-Westerner's know what I'm talking about. As for the rest of you? You don't have a Freddy's so does it really matter?  Anyways, we walked up and down aisles and aisles of trees.  There was a gigantic looking spider hanging from a web that almost made my hubby cancel the whole damn thing, but luckily after some deep cleansing breaths, he survived.  I've mentioned before that my hubby is picky. PICKY! So he made me hold up every flipping tree up as he examined it from all angles.  When we finally found the tree he asked me to hold it while he ran inside to pay for it.   So i'm standing there holding up this sappy tree, when a few men came up to me and were asking me questions in a heavy accent that I didn't understand at all.  I felt like a horrible bitch but I kept saying, "What? I'm sorry I don't understand."  One man had out his camera and I swear he was saying something about taking my picture. I'm not sure if it was me or the tree he wanted.  Maybe some men are heavily into tree porn?  At any rate I shook my head no and eventually they left.   

We managed to get the tree home without any problems.  We naively thought that everything was finally slipping into place.  That is until we tried to put the tree into the tree stand.   The tree stand was plastic (and a giant piece of shit) and apparently the bolts had stripped away which really pissed off the hubby considering we had just bought it last year so it was literally used once.   I held that damn tree up for over an hour while the hubby was underneath the tree, cussing and bitching.  Let me tell you holding up a tree isn't fun.  I had sap in my eye and I'm pretty sure that a baby spider made a nest on top of my head.   After 90+ minutes of fun, our tree looked more like the Leaning Tower of Pisa.  I made the fatal error of saying, "Look babe.  This tree stand calls itself the two minute tree stand". Which in my defense it really did.  On the sticker label it read, "The two minute Christmas tree stand."  Shortly after my comment, the hubby made some kind of animalistic, primal scream and I knew he had reached his breaking point.  The tree had won, and by this point it was almost 10 pm so the kids had all passed out on the couch.  

He grabbed the tree stand and his coat and without a word he headed out the door.  He was gone for almost an hour.  I knew he was taking that tree stand back to Fred Meyer as that's where we bought it last year.   I watched the clock and crossed my fingers that he didn't get arrested at Freddy's for having a post tree-standing mental breakdown at the customer service desk, but lo and behold he returned with a new tree stand in his arms.  The same brand of tree stand, but never the less a new tree stand.   So, we went through the whole process again and stood the tree up.  It actually looked straight for once and we both got a little excited.  The hubby's whole demeanor started to change and I could feel the old hubby coming back to me.  All of a sudden there was a loud POP!  I heard the hubby scream, "NOOOOOOO".  The damn thing had stripped again!  My immediate thought was, "Mother of GOD we are just not going to have a tree this year and I'm going to have to draw one on the walls."   Luckily, even with a stripped nail, the tree is still standing and despite it being a tad crooked, it's going to have to work.   Tonight we are going to attempt to decorate the tree.  I'm holding my breath and anticipating some type of tragic hook accident with blood spurting out of one of the children's noses, and a $250 co-pay to the ER. 

Important Guest Post by Heather Von St. James

I was approached by Heather herself, asking if I would help spread mesothelioma awareness by sharing her written story. Heather is a mom like me (you can see her beautiful daughter pictured below) so her story really touched me.  As i've shared before, I lost my own mom to Non Hodgkins Lymphoma when I was only 18 (she was diagnosed when I was 11).  I hope that you will read her story and help spread the word. This could happen to any of us.  You can read more about Heather here: http://www.mesothelioma.com/blog/authors/heather/  Thank you :)

“You have cancer.” Let me tell you from experience that these are three words that strike fear into your very core. When I heard these words, my baby had just been born three and one-half months prior to my pleural mesothelioma cancer diagnosis. The first thing I am most often asked when people find out I had mesothelioma is, “Asbestos? Are you sure? Isn’t that banned?” The second question I am most often asked is, “Where were you exposed?”

Contrary to popular belief, asbestos is not banned. I was exposed through my father’s work clothes. He worked in construction, and he would come home covered in white dust or microscopic asbestos fibers. The dust was often found in his car, on his clothes and on his jacket after he finished a full day’s work of mudding, sanding and drywall taping.

Having mesothelioma at the age of 36 was not typical. A typical mesothelioma patient is usually an older male who works in trades. Common trades with asbestos exposure include heating, plumbing, car repair, military and electrical technician. When the wives began to get sick, experts knew it was possible to be exposed from washing clothes. Most women would shake out the dust from the dirty clothes. The asbestos went airborne and was inhaled from the simple act of putting the asbestos-laden clothes in the washer.

I was one of the first of the new generation of mesothelioma victims. There were numerous younger people being diagnosed with mesothelioma after I was diagnosed. These men and women are now in their twenties and early thirties, but they were exposed when they were kids. They were exposed when they jumped into their dad’s arms after a long day’s work. Doing something as simple as wearing their father’s jackets when feeding the rabbits outside also exposed children. Like me, many made this practice a habit to keep their jackets from being dirty.

The young men and women who were exposed when they were kids should be having babies, getting married and celebrating new jobs, instead they are focused on alleviating the symptoms of mesothelioma. Luckily, there are more advancements being made in mesothelioma treatment, and now, more people are surviving.

A mesothelioma diagnosis is devastating. You cannot imagine until you experience it, but you have to hold out hope for better treatment. In the meantime, we have support groups to come together and support each other through tears and excitement.

So, why do I continue to do what I do? I do it because there needs to be more awareness. Without awareness, nothing changes.  If my story can help to change someone’s life, then I have done what is right.

Why Depends should just sponsor my blog already

It was just another fun filled weekend at home with five wacky kids, one crabby husband, and a partridge in a pear tree.  The hubby and I were chatting in the bathroom again, because it really is the only time we get alone.  I sat down on the toilet to pee (i'm sure there's a more eloquent way to write this but it's Monday and I haven't had any coffee yet so take it or leave it).

All of a sudden I heard my hubby scream like a giant alien was coming out of the ceiling and was going to swallow me whole and take me back to the mothership.  Seriously, the look of pure terror on his face told me that my life was in danger and we were under attack.  He started screaming, "DON'T MOVE" at the top of his lungs.  I don't know about you but when someone yells that at me, the first thing I do is move. It's a natural instinct, at least if you're dysfunctional like me and can't follow simple directions.

I heard the words, "It's coming for you! Hold still" coming from my husband.  Right away my mind shifted to a couple of months ago when we seriously were under attacked by the biggest freaking spider I had ever seen in my entire life other than on the cover of National Geographic, or the Arachnophobia movie.  I will spare you the pictures this time since they seemed to upset some of my readers, but go read my Arachnophobes Look Away post from October if you're curious.

Not wanting to get eaten alive while half naked on the toilet I jumped off and ran screaming out of the bathroom.  My hubby had me so completely terrified that I totally failed to notice that I was still midstream and continued to urinate all over myself and the floor.  To make matters worse I tripped while I was running for dear life so i'm lying face down in the hallway with my pants down around my ankles, in a puddle of my own urine.  My hubby was jumping around the bathroom screaming over the vicious spider (who by this point had jumped down from his web and was crawling around on the floor) and the little kids were poking their heads around the corner trying to see what the commotion was all about.   When I finally saw the spider I became really upset.  This was not a Tegenaria Gigantea like before.  OH NO! This was just your typical run of the mill spider.  And he was little.  And not hairy or beastly at all.

He looked a little like this

I began to yell at my ridiculously arachnophobic husband as I unsuccessfully tried to untangle my pant legs and pick myself up off of the floor and then my husband got upset at me for being upset with him. He tried to say he saved my life and that I should be grateful, but it was very little consolation considering I was now covered in my own urine, my favorite pants were soaked, I had to take a bath in the middle of the afternoon and clean my bathroom floor which typically only gets mopped when company comes once a year (kidding…sort of).  The next time I hear the man screaming bloody murder and i'm on the toilet, i'm staying on the toilet, despite his desperate pleas for me to run to safety.

Guest Post: Options for independent later living

Options for independent later living

Whether it is yourself or your parents you are thinking of, there will come a time when you want to find a home that is nice to settle down in so no one has to worry about moving house again. It may be a time for the person or people in question to downsize to minimise the amount of upkeep that needs to be done or it may simply be personal preference that drives you to change the place you call home.

The location is also important; needing to be somewhere that is within a short distance of amenities and that is well served by transport services so everyone's independence can be retained. You may also be thinking of finding somewhere in which help and support is readily available should it be needed at any time.

There are plenty of options available to enhance and make one's later years easier with different facilities and levels of assistance to suit all needs and requirements.

Home upkeep

To start with, one reason you may be thinking about moving is if you have had enough of house maintenance and general home upkeep. What may have been a perfect family home for most of your lifetime (when you had children, dogs and families visiting) may be more hassle than it is worth to look after now. It may be an ideal time to find a smaller property to live in where some help around the home is available should you need it.

Transport

There may come a time when you want to give up driving. You might decide to find somewhere to live that is close to everything you need and that it is time to relax and get your family to come to you. The great thing about finding a retirement property in a community such as the ones under discussion is that not only do they often have a plethora of onsite activities available; there are often arrangements that can be made easily should you want to visit anywhere else. This means you no longer have to worry about getting yourself around or relying on others to help you.

Social life

If you are beginning to lose the enthusiasm for driving and are inclined to leave the house less, socialising becomes a little bit more difficult. These independent living developments have a really close sense of community and offer many chances to get to know those that live near you and share activities with.

*This was a sponsored post not written by me.  I think i'll forward a copy of it to my own children as i'm a bit worried as to where they are going to place me someday! Hint, hint kids….You either find me a nice retirement home or momma's coming to live with you :)