Very funny, universe. Very funny.

Well.  Ahem.

When I made my last post, I was in the latter end of the first menstrual cycle I’d charted using a moonwheel.  I began a little after that period ended, and because I was paying attention, I noted the area when I suspected I had ovulated – something I used to do in years past but was just getting back into.

And I excitedly started on a new charting month when later on, the signs all led to impending period.  I waited.  And I waited.  I took a pregnancy test early on and saw nothing, so I moped at the loss of what had seemed like the return of regular cycles for me.

Still nothing a week later and I went… okay.  Maybe one more test.

One more turned quickly into five more (I like to be thorough) and with that, we’ve got our fourth member on their way late this coming January.  🙂

This will 100% be our last baby – while I love my daughter and I know I will love this little new bean, there is a cost-benefit return for me when it comes to amount of children vs my abilities as a mother.  With birth work, and lactation work, I am mothering other parents so frequently – there are so many ways that I can nurture.  And I welcome them all.

This is my mountain baby.  This baby will hopefully be born at home while snow is piled up outside my door, and we will all snuggle together, the four of us, in warmth and love.  I know better than anyone that the Birth Fairy loves to sprinkle her mischievous dust on the concrete plans and the “This WILL happen” of expectant parents, so I will be doing exactly none of that.  But we can hope, and that’s exactly what we’ll do.

Today is the first day of fall – it was a smoky, hot, yucky summer.  But now autumn is here, rain has come (wonderful rain), I will be 23 weeks along come Sunday, and with recent very exciting professional developments, I am so ready for the rest of this year.




shake off the dust once again.

Well, seeing as how I had a pile of draft posts that never got published in a timely manner – let’s start again, shall we?

Why not.

It’s May.  Spring is here and the weather is bouncing from boiling hot to pouring rain.  Thunderstorms aplenty.  Flooded streets.  Baby after baby after baby has been born in our city, and there are still more to come.  I’ve been running around helping those who’ve called, needing breastfeeding support, and leading a series of evening LLL meetings.  As always, I’m busy and not busy enough.

Norah is 3 1/2 now.  I’m not entirely sure when it happened, but I blinked and she was vastly more sophisticated and thinking and communicating deeper than I was prepared for, and with more clarity.  Basically, the little brat is growing up and I find it massively unfair.  Stay little, bean.  Stay little.

Sometimes, I think I’m on a countdown clock heading to the day when she grows into the inevitable mother-daughter resentment.  Is it inevitable?  I don’t know.  I always assumed it was.  I know there will be struggles, there are already struggles.  I have never felt more like my own mother than recently, and I just cannot seem to stop.

For now, she still sits in my lap and tells me she loves me fifty times a day, and I wish I could stop the world and keep it that way forever.

We are officially two years into our four year Central WA stay.  Mer got his placement for his fourth year, and it’s for our current area, so we’ll be staying for sure two more years.  Halfway done.  It feels like both a light at the end of the tunnel and also massively far away.  These two past years have gone so fast, and yet – I don’t want to think about a Norah who is 5 1/2.  I’m having enough trouble dealing with 3 1/2.

Of course, the solution to these feelings would be a very simple one for plenty of folks – time to have another.  Right?

The answer is and has always been in this house… maybe.  Maybe.  Probably not.  But maybe.  We literally sat down the other day and decided not to decide.  Either child #2 happens or it doesn’t, but we are no longer setting our minds to one way or another.  I recently read a book called Moods of Motherhood by Lucy Pearce, and she described the two mother archetypes SO perfectly – the Nurturing Earth Mother, and the Creative Rainbow Mother.  I have always desperately wanted to be the former.  I have tried so, so hard to be.  I think in some ways I am – I am a doula, I nurture, I care for other mothers.  But in my own parenthood, I think there is a stage wherein I have to embrace the Creative Rainbow Mother in myself and admit that I have many limits in my ability to nurture my own child and my family.  Rather than abuse myself about it, isn’t it better to “quit while we’re ahead”, as my husband likes to say?  My life, our life is so full with Norah.  That doesn’t mean another child doesn’t appeal, another baby to grow and nurse and hold.  But is that enough?

The rest of this year, I think, will be a year of healing.  Quiet healing.  Maybe it’s because I’m at the tail end of a cold and so I’m just dripping with fatigue and cottonheadedness, but I’m ready for some quiet healing.  My career path is beautiful and is coming together wonderfully, and I’m ready to focus inward and sort some things out.

This is Brigid’s Year.  I will give it to her.  May it give me strength, heal me, and help me heal and guide other women.

  • M

homeschool dreams = montessori reality

I had it ALL figured out by the time she was 1.  Big plans had been made.  BIG plans.

I was gonna homeschool.  I was going to start a slow, simple Waldorf style homeschool routine when my daughter turned 3, one hour a day and building up as she got older.  We were going to be that family that had school in our pajamas and learned from nature and did all that amazing stuff.  My husband was homeschooled.  I have an undergraduate degree in elementary education.  No reason this kid couldn’t be homeschooled.

Well, a couple reasons showed up.  First reason, one way or the other, if I wanted to run a business, I was going to need time to actually do it.  I needed time during the week for prenatal meetings, to teach classes, and to do all those things that a doula has to do short of going to births.

Second reason was simply that at some point I realized I had given birth not to a solitary wood sprite, but a social butterfly.  Nono yearns for other kids like they’re food or water – she needs them.  All of them.  We are a one child family by choice, so no ready made playmates will be making their arrivals.  I can’t go on playdates 5 days a week, especially if I’m working as much as I should be.

So, I did the math.  I needed time.  She needed other kids.  Not a difficult problem to solve.

Preschool was happening.  I was not only not going to be a homeschooler, I was going to be someone who sent her baby away to preschool at the tender age of *gasp* THREE.  Not even three!  I had to find somewhere that would take her a month short of turning three, being born in October like she was.  Naturally, being a proper mother and woman in a society that has conditioned us to sacrifice till we drop, I felt horribly guilty.  Waaaaves of guilt.

Until I took her to tour a Montessori preschool in Yakima.  The director commented, “Most children are holding their mother’s legs during the tour – but yours dove right in!”  Boy, did she.  In that half an hour visit, she played, she drew, she fit in, and she cried when it was time to leave.  Okay… guilt lessening slightly.  Maybe it wouldn’t be horrible.  But would she really let me leave her without tears?  Is that possible?

We tested the waters last week with an outdoor camp preschool through KEEN and the Washington Outdoor School.  It was just half days for a week, but I was fully prepared for a meltdown when I left the first day.  This is literally the FIRST time this kid has been away from me and not with a relative.  I girded my loins.  And… nothing.  Kissed her goodbye, said, “Mama will be back later to pick you up,” she replied, “Okay!” and that was it.  Five days straight.

(Every day at pickup she ran into my arms yelling, “Mama, I missed you!” so at least I still felt slightly relevant.  Slightly. Lol.)

By Wednesday of that week we were at the Montessori signing her up for the long haul.

And like that, come September, my baby will be at school doing just fine without me.  Maybe I’ll borrow someone else’s kid to homeschool.



oh, so that’s what spring feels like.


The view from my car atop Memorial Park Hill.  It’s pretty stunning in person, and apparently a popular lunch spot – there were three other cars parked with people eating takeout.  Lol.



April has arrived!  And with it comes spring.  And with spring comes my work ethic.  Funny how that always happens.

I have been slogging along this week at the old self-employment biz.  Building a business is rarely fun, but it does bring a huge sense of accomplishment when you tackle something you’ve been needing to do but avoiding.  Like making that phone call, or fixing that website, or updating that social media.  I managed to do all of the above plus much more this past week, and so I turn today to my neglected house.  I have no less than four meetings left to attend this month, and spring cleaning will turn very quickly into summer cleaning if I don’t get to it soon.

Another thing I did do this week was get through a big (virtual) pile of books, which I will be writing about later today.  And then hopefully I can blog a bit about socks as well.  Lofty goals, lofty goals.

Stay awesome, y’all.


soup, suds and socks

This may surprise you, dear readers, but with a husband in both graduate school AND working nearly full time, there isn’t an ample amount of free or family time left over during the school year.  Particularly on the weekends – the pharmacy loves having Mer on the weekends, and they fit into his schedule, so most Saturdays and Sundays tend to consist of him working and Nono and I bumming around at home, glued to the Disney Channel.

But it’s Spring Break!  Huzzah!  A time where yes, he’s still working, but there are actually a few days left over for the three of us to rock it Family Style.  Staying home was tempting, seeing as how it was raining outside off and on and we were all a bit short of sleep (thanks, Daylight Savings), but we dusted off the fleece jackets and ventured out.  And I’m very pleased we did.

First was a bit of lunch and playplace time at Ye Olde Fast Food Establishment wherein I watched an older kid try desperately to get Nono to participate in his game (spoiler – didn’t work.  It involved being “very quiet”, which, well, no.) and shoved cookies in my face.  Then, off to the local yarn store.  Inspired by Lucy at Attic 24, I decided to dive back into sock knitting in the hopes that maybe I can finish a PAIR this time.  I’m following the Winwick Mum Sockalong, and my tiny 12 inch circular arrives tomorrow, which I have a feeling will be the thing that makes the sock knitting stick.  But no Amazon yarn for me, oh no.  I had to go squish and squash some lovely stuff at Yarn Folk, and I was NOT disappointed.  The resulting purchase:


I can’t even with how gorgeous that is.  I’m familiar with Wisdom Yarns, but I’ve never tried it, and this one apparently knits up as a faux Fair Isle!  Eeeeee.  Springy yarn for a springy project.

After the yarn store, we vacuumed and shampooed the car (less exciting, but oh so necessary), and then went for a bit of an early dinner at a soup and sandwich place.  Been meaning to try it for, you know, 6 months, lol.  But today was the day!  Absolutely delicious.  Nono devoured a bowl of turkey rice soup, like, decimated.  Obliterated.  So she’s a fan, obviously.

And to home.  Mer is messing with his Metal Earth of Himeiji Castle that he’s had for months and not had time to build, Nono is involved in Lilo and Stitch, and I am settling down for a bit of planner time and Ravelry searching.  Later on, there will be a blissful Safeway trip solo.  I can spend as much time pondering the cracker aisle as I want, people.  That’s true freedom.

Now that, my dears, is a Sunday.  Love.


oh, look who’s putting her typing where her mouth is.

I mean, Mer wasn’t going to sit and listen to me ramble about my various interests FOREVER.  At some point, he was gonna snap.  Inevitable.

I’d love to be able to give you some kind of heads up as to what type of shit I’ll be talking about here, but it would be lies, because it’ll probably change.  Much like the one guy tells the other guy in Pocahontas (I don’t actually physically watch the movie cause it pains me, but overhearing it is another story), she goes wherever the wind takes her.  Like Disney’s weird adultified version of Pocahontas, I am typically checking for available riverbends.

Come along with me?  Or don’t.  But you should.  Maybe.  Listen, I don’t know.  It’s a thing where I talk about stuff.