Defying mom-law

Mom-law, like martial law, but mother to child(ren) rather than tyrant to civilians.

So many, too many, mom blog posts focus on what “what I regret doing today as a mother”.

I’ve had my fair share of those moments this summer. Witchling has his own world view and very strong opinions about how to do things. He’s gonna change the world.

But first, he has to help empty the dishwasher.

Not gonna lie, he and I struggled a bit this morning but I’m super proud of myself for how I handled it.

Plastic kid dishes and bowls are out and stacked by Witchlette. Witchling is on utensil duty. He takes out all the tablespoons, puts them away and then comes back for all the teaspoons, followed by forks and knives. A system he devised last week after becoming overwhelmed with a handful of mixed utensils he couldn’t sort on his own. Witchlette gloated she could go faster than him, and grabbed a handful of mixed utensils.

He carfully grabbed teaspoons. She put her first load away, as did he. She grabbed another mixed handful, and there wasn’t many left at this point, so he followed suit. She put her load away and he balked.

The bottom of the dishwasher was done, and I started unloading the glasses, Witchlette started unloading plastic kids cups. Witchling started screaming.

He screamed until he was red. I called him over and he ran away from me, hands still full of utensils. Still screaming. Twice around the table, screaming the whole while. I had him for a moment, but he broke off. Got him again and scooped him up. Together we walked over to the drawer.

Deep breath. Ready?

I took the utensils from him and handed them to him one by one. Chore done, big hug.

I put him down and he immediately ran away for the bathroom. Witchlette and I finished the cooking utensils basket. I dismissed her with thanks, and turned to this pan in the sink from breakfast.

Witchling returned, face still splotchy but no longer beat red. He enveloped me in a hug. I sank to the floor and just held him.

I’ve got you kid.

I know you wanted to do it on your own, your own way. But sometimes, we need help. And one of the bravest things you can do is ask for, and accept, help.

Modern witch’s momming life

Lammas/Lughnasadh

It’s the beginning of August, the winding home stretch of summer. It’s time to evaluate our summer bucket list and see what specifically we haven’t done and what we really want to do.

It’s the beginning of back to school preparation. Kids have grown taller and stronger and need bigger clothes to fit new frames. New school supplies have been acquired.

New-again interests continue to pique, as both Witchlette and Witchling watch/play/speak nothing but Pokémon. This is something Witchlette liked as a toddler, but fell out of favor with for a while. Now she’s back on the wagon in a big way. And she’s bringing Witchling for a ride, though he very much has his hands on at least half of the reigns.

Witchling still relies on meditation to help himself drift off to sleep. We often do “Rainbow” chakra meditations. He also enjoys going on visualization trips. Those trips started to incorporate visiting and bonding with some of his favorite Pokémon in the wild. He has shifted back to Rainbow meditation, but he carries his Pokémon with him.

Red light- ground like Diglett

Orange light- feel your emotions- happy like Chancey, grumpy like Snubble, excited like Mr. Mime, sad like Cubone

Yellow light- embrace your intuition and take hold of the total of your personal power like Drowsy and Hypno.

Green light- feel all the love from your family and friends float back and forth from you and to you on a Lovedisk (his insistence that it be a Lovedisk)

Light blue light- communicate your thoughts, wants and needs, honestly and openly, through words or song like Jigglypuff

Dark blue light- feel your third eye open, feel your connection to the other world and connect to Magick like Abra, Kadabra, and Alacazam

Purple light- feel your connection to the Divine, the whole of the Universe, as Mew is interconnected with the whole of the Universe.

So…this is what happiness looks like. Taking something you hold dear, mixing it with the interest of your beloved, and making something all your own.

The next evolution in SPP

Previous readings: SPP and SPP Revisited.

Witchlette has been functioning with biological terms for body parts for both males and females. She has been working with the metaphor for human reproduction that a dad has a seed that he gives to a mom, which she puts into her egg.

We have talked about how some families that have two dads use an egg from someone else and one of their own seeds. Likewise, families with two moms use a seed from someone else and one of their own eggs. Sometimes a mom doesn’t have eggs of her own and uses another woman’s egg. Same goes with a dad and his seed.

“But how does it work?”

It’s not a sunflower seed and a chicken egg. Those are two terms used to describe microscopic cells that come together to make new life. They get put together and the two microscopic cells divide into two cells. Those each divide into four. Each of those divides and now there’s 8. And so on. They divide, and grow, and specialize to make all of our body parts and body systems.

“How do they get together? How does it work?”

I put it off as long as I could. I gave you biology, but I’m not ready for mechanics. I don’t know if you’re actually ready for mechanics yet.

The next day, from seemingly out of no where, “I’m so glad I’m your daughter. I love you so much Mommy…Can you please teach me how the egg and seed work?”

I found a 3d animation, that seems like something out of my own high school health class.

“Fertilization is human reproduction through sexual intercourse”.

No questions about what is sexual intercourse. Ok.

Sperm swim across the screen.

So, those are the seeds. The biological word for them is sperm. The metaphor is seed.

“The sperm swim through the cervix…”

“So, they go in the belly button?”

That’s not the belly button.

“Oh. Ok.”

“Here a large number of the sperm die.”

“Why do they die?”

Because only one will get to the egg, and that one seed, I mean sperm, and one egg make one baby.

That’s the egg

“That’s not an egg…”

Most people, even scientists call it an egg. Biology books will also call it an ovum. Ovum is the true scientific name.

“The tightly wrapped genetic material from the sperm unravels and prepares to pair up with the genetic material from the egg”

“Wow! That’s DNA?! So that’s how it works!”

Biology for the win.

I’ve still got at least two years before we have the discussion of mechanics.

Stronger than the Donut

It’s teacher appreciation week and my schools PTA has arranged for teachers to get goodies one day each week.

Today was donuts and I purposely did not partake.

It’s strange when I need to consider my infertility while I have two beautiful, healthy, active, kind, happy kids. My PCOS not only makes ovulation a thing that I don’t experience, but it also screws with my blood sugar. The blood sugar issues seem to be the main cause of my anovulation, as my endocrinologist wanted me to try diet changes to see if that kick started ovulation. It didn’t alone, but was necessary to continue for the modern medicine to work, which led to Witchlette.

After having Witchlette, I decided I needed to be mindful of what I ate, but not as strict as I was while trying to get pregnant.

After having Witchling, I decided to throw caution to the wind. Two hands, two kids. Yolo. Eat the cake.

Over the past few months, I have struggled more with my anxiety. I’ve struggled more with my self-esteem.

One of my self image issues has been my weight. Specifically, I carry all of my weight in my front. One of my students has made comments about my looking pregnant. Multiple times. A lot of the issue is her speaking negatively about others and not realizing when others speak that way about her she doesn’t like it. PCOS carries a lot of weight issues.

There are a lot of symptoms PCOS can present with. I don’t have all of them, but I do have quite a few.

Aside from hair issues, weight issues, actual cysts rupturing, anovulation, and blood sugar issues, anxiety and depression are a symptom of PCOS.

Sunday, after confessing to friends that I’m considering shape wear to appear trimmer, because I’m not an exerciser and YOLO-cake, I journaled about how wrong that felt. How awful it felt forming in my mind and leaving my lips. Sunday night I decided on baby steps of no dessert Sunday-Thursday.

By Tuesday morning, I was done craving sugar.

Wednesday morning, I was stronger than the donut.

YOLO-Health and Happiness (And the occasional slice of cake)

Bedtime affirmations

Witchling has been having a rough time going to sleep after taking long naps in bed. He also has an incredibly vivid imagination that allows him to have bad dreams while he’s wide awake.

Tonight, after his third time out of bed (I was in the shower for the first two), he shared with me that he had bad dreams while laying in bed. One was about a spider, the creature, not the hero, who tied him up in a web. The other was about an evil witch that tried to put a spell on him. A third was a skeleton that attacked him while he was in the stars.

Next time you have a bad dream, regain control. Big deep breath.

My mama’s a Witch, and so am I

My mama does Magick and so do I

I have the power within me

I have all the Magick I need

This is, I think, my Craft at the core. I use it in the most practical sense, and I feel it around me regularly. As often as I can in our modern going going existence. Stop and smell the roses, stop and feel the Divine.

Morning clouds

This morning, on the way to morning carpool drop off, Witchlette was exercising her imagination by cloud watching at red lights.

Mama! Look! There’s knitting needles in the sky, from that plane exhaust, and the wispy clouds are the knitting.

It was a gentle reminder of Frigg, mother and wool worker.

Now, I sit in dance class, peaking at Witchlette through the window while I crochet.

Beginning the work

Epiphanies most often feel like running face first into a brick wall. They are painful realizations of imminent change.

They are the death card- it’s going to happen whether you like it or not. You can either go with it and learn from it, or fight against the tide. You’ll lose, and you’ll hurt. There will be hurt either way, but going with the tide brings the growing pains of change.

I’m a cliche machine tonight…

I started my work this morning. I journaled two pages before work.

Now, prior to bedtime, I have journaled another five. Good morning and good night pages I’m calling them.

One includes this poem, the core of the work I am doing. I’m finally fully deeply addressing instead of just letting go and moving on. Because, let’s be real, I’ve just swept it under my proverbial rug. There’s so much crap under there, it no longer lays flat.

Enough

When is enough enough?

Fullness still feels empty,

Overflowing, yet pouring.

Too fat.

Too ugly.

Too dumb.

Too much.

Too little.

Too late.

I see how you see me.

That’s all I saw.

I am rising from my ashes.

My inner banshee screams, “Enough!”

I am more than your opinions.

I am worthy.

I am loved.

I am enough.

Thank you S for providing me with the final lines tonight. Your kindness and caring and time mean more than you’ll know.