Continuing to Flounder

I am not a big believer in “On Monday, I will…”, whether “Monday” is the start of a new week, month, year; a new day is the best time to start. Each morning, as the sun rises, we are given a new chance to do the new thing.

Well, I have let multiple new days over multiple months lapse. I continue to not jump at opportunities, choosing inaction instead of action.

I fall back to Que Sera, Sera.

I’m going to take care of myself right now by lounging and reading, crocheting, watching trashy TV, whatever loafing around I choose to recharge. After morning mom-ing, working, evening mom-ing, and completing preparations for the next day,  I just want to sit and relax. But I also want to rebuild my regular yoga practice. I want to expand on my regular yoga practice. I want to rebuild my regular spiritual practice, and expand and deepen that practice. I am having a struggle of faith. Many years ago, I felt myself to be a spiritual atheist. Then, the Gods of my mother’s people summoned me to their team. I let everyday life interrupt the spiritual, and I lost the Magickal in the mundane. Right there- I need to rekindle the Magickal in the mundane. Well, at least with thinking it out, I have my jumping point.

Anyway, I recently came across a new perspective on que sera, sera:

When it comes to things outside of our control: relationships, whether friendships, romantic relationships, or familial bond, and rejection by others, the appropriate mindset is whatever will be will be. We can put forth our best effort, but not everyone will like us, and that is ok. It’s healthier to walk away than to continue to push for it. And it’s important not to force something to happen. Whatever will be, will be.

When the focus is on one’s own effort, however, the mindset should be more of a Want, Take, Have. Any change one wishes to make to one’s life must be made through conscious and consistent efforts. This is my flounder. Perhaps I put forth so much effort into others that I am drained and not able to hone in on myself. Perhaps, however- and this is something that has been eating away at me for a while now- I am not ready to deeply reflect on how to improve myself because it would mean deep self-discovery and addressing personal faults. As someone who has felt suicidal ideations at three different life points, real self-reflection where I am looking at faults spirals into worthlessness. (Note- there were never attempts, just lots of thoughts of what if…what would happen to those left, who would care…I never thought of how, but rather what impact would my leaving have on those left, usually with a thought on “X would be better off without me because…)

I’m going to reflect slowly. I’m going to take my time. I don’t want to rush myself into something that would be detrimental to me. I deserve to feel my worthiness.

An end to the drought

When one thing grows, others shrivel. A beautiful garden blooms in time, with daffodils in early spring, and daisies in early summer. Despite being planted side by side, they don’t blossom together. By the time the daisies are ready, the daffodils have long wilted away.

This is how I have felt as of late. The last post I wrote was in August of last year. Two posts in early August. Before then, it was May. Things seemed to stagnate, or, at least I thought they had stagnated.

But rather…I’m going to return to my flower garden analogy.

The first year of a garden is an awful lot of work. You have to decide on space, till the land, refresh the dirt with more nutrient rich soil, space your plants, choose your plants and design your layout with a mixture of blossoms in time. After the first year, you mind the garden, but it’s mostly left to itself. You have to return regularly and tend the weeds, but the flowers continue to bloom year after year without much outside effort. That’s what nature does. Blooms year after year.

Over the past, I’d say since April when we lost M, and even a few months before that, when we started barring her from upstairs, from the Magickal space because she couldn’t safely make it up and down the stairs anymore, I started to feel as though my practice was stagnent. Every day was the same. Every week was the same. There was a lot of monotiny. I tried to remember the piece I found from a Hindi spiritual leader, that one does not do the work when one feels inspired. Rather, one feels uninspired and therefore does the work to become inspired. But, alas, I felt stuck. Like a hamster spinning on its wheel and getting nowhere. This, in and of itself, has been a recurring theme for me. Things get too monotonous, or life gets too busy, and all of my practice takes the back burner. I often think about Frigg, who I almost always refer to as Frija now, reconciling my UPG between Frigg and Freya back into one persona, and how, as a wife and mother, she understands my choices presently lie not with devotions to her but rather being a mother and wife to my family and I hope those works appease her. I hope my wool working, which I do with her on my mind each time, appease her. Each time I look at the sun, I see the sun disc and the light, now as two separate entities- Frija and Balder- and I hope this daily mini-meditation appeases her. Yet, I know she deserves more. I can’t say she expects more, but I feel she deserves more.

I also don’t want to be a vending machine devotee. I need you, therefore I am coming to you for me to do the thing. See you next time I need you, and I come to you to do the thing. I want to be devoted, in a way that is actual regular devotion. Which requires sacrifice- forgoing one thing to take on another. But when Witchling says, “Mama, come snuggle me!”…there is no way Frigg would turn that down if Balder requested it.

It all comes in balance and with time. Hubby and I took strongly to hibernating this winter; we were snuggled in bed with a book or a small project by 9:30 every night from mid-November to mid-February. I could forgo those moments to devote to Frija. I could wake up earlier to devote to Frija, but sleep is a vital self-care for myself.

Interestingly, a lot of this self-reflection came from a discussion with a Christian friend. As my kids would say, he’s the type of Christian, one who actually follows the whole love your neighbor thing, because Jesus himself was a pretty cool Witch, it’s just the droves of his modern people who suck.

Anyway, I’m back at this life-conjunction of working back towards regular devotions. I tried to set devotions by the week days for which Thor and Frija are named, but that didn’t work for me either. The sun would go down on Thursday before I realized, in this context, that the day was in fact Thursday. Only devoting on the Full Moon seems too few and far between and I also don’t always realize it’s the Moon. I don’t stop long enough to plan for the Sabbats. I have been drifting away from them for some time, as their timing and Lore-base don’t align with my Southeastern US Heathen experience. I need to find a regular time to do devotions, both physical offerings as well as a time to be slow and silent and contemplative in a mindful way. My daily affirmation is to approach interaction and to monitor my own reaction so that I act with both presence and patience. I need to offer the same to my gods and my self.

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


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.