We been in the new house for a little over a week.

Today, our washer and dryer were delivered. Im running our first load in a while and the sense of normalcy is nice. We’re surrounded by boxes, most of them things that are deemed non-essentials and amung the first items to be packed, including lots of hanging decor. We want to have things settled and away before we start decorating, so we live around boxes.

About half of our stuff is still in boxes at Mom’s house. I brought home 9 (small) boxes Tuesday afternoon when I picked up the kids and will continue to do so until her house is empty. Next weekend, hubby and I will likely get a truckload out in his Jeep.

Around the house, things are settling in nicely. We’ve been dreaming of this house since the moment we saw it and it feels right that it’s now where we call home. Transitioning to my commute to work has been easy- I now take all back roads instead of the highway and the drive is a hair shorter. After work, I go to the same preschool near the old house to pick up the kids so the whole situation hasn’t changed. We didn’t see the fairness in taking Witchlette away from all her friends with only a few months left until she graduates Pre-K.

The kids have thoroughly enjoyed the house so far. They love the yard the most. In one of their many backyard adventures, they shared with me how they made a fire.

This morning, I found this:

This afternoon, Witchlette and I found the bulb which we blessed at charming of the plow.

It is now planted in the garden surrounding the deck in back.

We are now ready for Spring’s arrival next week!



It was less than a ago when Witchlette declared Skadi to be her goddess.

This morning, Witchling was going through the days of the week.

“Who’s day is today?” he asked.

“Sunna’s day.”

“When is Thor’s day?”


“When is Loki’s day?”

“Yesterday, Saturday.”

“What about Odin?”


“When is Heimdall’s day?”

“Heimdall doesn’t have a day.”


“I don’t know. He doesn’t.”

“Heimdall is my God!”

“He’s a good God to have”

I haven’t shared a formal declaration to the kids. That is something they can decide to do when they are older. Yet, I still think the gods of old are speaking through my little ones. They have found a willing audience.

Hail! Blessed be!

“…so, I meditated…”

With parenting, most of what Hubby and I imbue on our children is a team effort. We share 99.99% of the same values and want our children to have them as well.

Typical parent stuff.

Be kind. Be respectful. Be patient. Be confident. Give effort. Have fun. Be silly. Embrace your smarts and use your powers for good.

The 00.01% where I differ from Hubby is with spirituality.

We are on the same page that we do not want our children brainwashed and indoctrinated into an organized religion. We are on the same page that we do not want our children exposed to Yahweh for as long as we can help it.

Hubby is on board for me raising our children as Pagan. They care for their environment. They have personal accountability. They believe in the old ways. They enjoy hearing stories of their ancestors. My kids also have been exposed to my yoga and meditation practice.

Yesterday, after school, Witchlette informed me that she was troubled by not being able to go to her preferred center during free play yesterday. She then went on and explained how, rather than get upset and frustrated, she sat down and meditated. “I didn’t get what I wanted and I was upset. But I didn’t want to cry, so I meditated.” Then, she went and read a book in the cozy corner.

I heart burst with love and pride from this little girl.

I must be doing something right.



Witchling is my last baby. And he’s not even a baby anymore 😭

This morning, I was having a bout of the lastisms. I have “baby fever” every so often, when I miss the teeny tiny snuggles that having a baby completely reliant of you entailed.

But I don’t miss anything else that comes with having a baby. At. All.

When Witchling bounds over to me and asks me in his super sweet big boy voice to scoop me up and snuggle him, my heart just melts.

This morning, we’re sitting at breakfast at our local donut and biscuit shop, when I start sharing with Hubby some of my lastisms. I’m between misting and crying, and Hubby jokes that I should hold onto these until Witchling is 12…or 30. Witchling then jumps up and declares potty, so Hubby takes him.

As if on cue, his lullaby, Everlong (Foo Fighters) begins playing on the radio in the shop. Witchling and Hubby emerge between the first and second verses and before the first refrain. Witchling realizes what song is playing, gives me the biggest hug, and sits with me, singing along to the rest of the song.

These moments. These are what matter.


Blessed Imbolc and Charming of the Plow

Signs of spring have started to pop up around our yard. We have three bulbs that have begun to sprout in our front yard. Two are bulbs Witchlette and I planted at Imbolc last year, the third is one of the remaining daffodil bulbs around our oak tree.

This evening, at dinner, we conducted our first Charming of the Plow ritual.

I had an offering bowl at the table with a bulb and some seeds to bless, which will be planted in our new yard.

We blessed our meal, and I shared the following

Today, what many people call Imbolc, our Germanic ancestors Kew at Charming of the Plow.

Tonight, we honor Odin Allfather, cheif among the gods. We honor Freyr, who rides his golden boar across the sky for longer and longer time. Skal and cheers to Skadi and Ullr, whose time of rule is almost through. They will soon retreat back to Skadi’s mountainous winter fortress. For Thor, whose rains are to come and for Sif, whose grains are to grow. Tonight, we give special acknowledgement to Gefjon, who took four oxen, her son’s, yoked them to a plow, and carved a plot of land just for her kin. To Frigg Allmother, with an honor of milk, as the kids and calves are being born, milk is flowing, and wool.os being harvested and spun. Above all, this night, we honor Jord, Earth Mother. May you have fields growing and flourishing,
propagating and strengthening,
tall shafts, bright crops,
and red tomato crops,
and soft sage crops,
and all earth’s crops.
May Nerthus grant you
that your produce be guarded against any enemies,
and that it be kept safe from harm,
from poisons sown around the land.
Now I bid the Mother, who shaped this world,
that none shall overturn the words thus spoken.

Final words taken from The Pagan Grove.

Hail to Gefjon

Hail to Jord

Hail, Skal, and Blessed Be



This morning, Witchling remained in bed until shortly after 7. Yay Saturday!

When he started to sound restless, I called in on his monitor and invited him to come lay with us until Witchlette awoke and they could have tablet time together.

I asked him how he slept, and he said good. He then said he had dreams.

What did you dream of?



No, Gods.

Oh! Which ones.

Loki and Thor. Does Thor have a hammer?


What does Loki have?


No, he holds something. … Is Loki a good guy or a bad guy?

He can be a good guy, but he also can be a bad guy.

Oh. Is Iron Man a good guy?


Ok. Can we watch cooking videos?

My main takeaway is that while most of what he understands of the lore is still based in Marvel, he distinguishes heroes and Gods. It’s definitely a start.


Now on Instagram!

I have officially made a pagan-specific IG profile to allow me to share more Pagan/Heathen-centric material that doesn’t tie the kiddos faces.

This path could become their path, and at that time, they can own it and put they’re faces with it.

So, follow the Witchy side @heathen__mama (there are two underscores)