A Hermitess

The Better Mother

My mom once told me that I’m a better mother than her, and after thinking on it for a while, I agree.

Before anyone freaks out, let me explain.

My relationship with my mother is anything but black and white. Is anyones?

We both come from a long line of women who wanted more out of life. Sometimes we just couldn’t ever seem to find it, or, more often than not, afford it if we did. When we realized that we couldn’t have what we wanted, we tried to make sure our daughters did, or at least that our daughters made it closer to having what they wanted than we did.

See, the meaning of motherhood and all that other gobbledygook doesn’t really start to clear up until you actually are a mother, and you learn all these unsaid truths.

This shit is hard. NO ONE knows what they’re doing, and the only “book” we have is the experiences of our own childhoods, good and bad.

I’m not going to lie, or paint some pretty fake picture. My mom isn’t a super hero, or some earthbound angel.

She’s actually pretty terrifying.

When we were kids, my sisters and I called her Maleficent. Not only because her high set cheekbones and dark eyes resemble the dragon witch, but when she is angry her voice is that of a wrathful god.

When she became a school bus driver the other kids, who had no idea she was my mother, said, to me, they were pretty sure she was an actual witch.

(For the record her glare puts 95% of resting bitch faces to shame. I know most women feel like they have the winning RBF but I promise that hers will scare yours back into the closet.)

I always agreed with the other kids, they were right to be afraid, she was most definitely a witch.

I look like my father as a girl. I have dull copper hair that frizzes and curls and has taken me 30 years to figure out how to semi properly care for. My face freckles but I lucked into a peaches and cream complexion instead of my fathers ivory.

My mom, on the other hand, looks like a curly haired Pocahontas. The only thing we share is dark brown eyes and equal amounts of frizz. It wasn’t easy for people to know upon looking that I was her daughter.

I always thought that the reason we seemed to fight so much was because I was too much like my father and she didn’t see much of herself in me. They divorced when I was around 13 years old and I remember thinking that maybe she was mad at me because I was a walking, talking, constant reminder.

When I became a mother I realized there was a lot more to it.

My mom had me before she found herself. Before she knew who she was and what she wanted out of life.

I know this now because I had my own children before I found myself.

I had no idea who I was when I had kids. I know, that like most 19 year olds (yes 19), I thought I did. But I didn’t. I thought I wanted to just have a good family. A family that was better than my own family. I was not going to make my parents mistakes.

When you grow up and become a parent and you have to do the job of parenting, you realize that your parents just did the best they could. Every parent is more than just a parent, they’re still a person. They have thoughts and feelings and desires outside of being mom or dad, but when you’re a kid, and everything is black and white, it’s almost impossible to imagine them as anything but.

Being a mom, reflecting on my own mom, means that I understand that sometimes my mom just wanted to be Lisa: the artist, the reader, the woman and not “mom.”

Being a parent and going through all the ups and downs means realizing, people make mistakes. A lot of them. People also change as much as the world around them changes, we have to. We’d die if we didn’t. Everyone needs the time and space to change and grow and learn from our mistakes.

My mom was a first born daughter of a first born daughter of a first born daughter. As her first, it seemed to be my inheritance to have a plethora of mental health issues and an unnecessary sense of responsibility towards everyone and everything. I know though, that I am not the first eldest daughter to feel the weight of their foremothers responsibilities and struggles slowly dumped onto their shoulders.

I won’t be the last either, but maybe I can lessen my own daughters load, as my mother tried to do for me.

Crazy runs deeps in my family but maybe I can teach my kids how to better wade through it. I at least understand, with a big thanks to my mother, that mental health is important and nothing to be ashamed of.

As an adult, I see more of my mother in me than I did as a teenager. I might have my dads face but I have my mothers love of art. I’ll never be able to draw like she can but I love photography and writing.

My sisters and I have our fathers temper but our mothers open mind.

Truthfully, my mother is wilder than me. She’s always seemed to want more out of life than me. She has a presence that is noticeable in every room. I envy her fearlessness as much as her black hair.

There were times growing up when I think her idea on parenting was a lot more authoritarian than necessary, more than I use in my own parenting style, but I know that it was how she was raised.

You didn’t question your parents, and parents were never wrong. However, I think that deep down she’s proud to have raised three girls who stand up for their beliefs even if that meant we stood up to her more than a few times growing up. (*Yes she always won in the end)

I’m sure that there are things that she completely disagreed with her mother on. In fact, I know that there are because those are the things that she swore to never do to us. One of those things is that while the woman is fearsome we, her daughters, have never been afraid to call on her.

Whenever I gave birth, or any time I’ve been in an emergency situation, I realized pretty quickly that I wanted my mom.

Maleficent comes in handy when you need answers or you need people to get moving on something.

(*Say something mean to me, really, I dare you. I would not put it past the woman to use an ass kicking as an excuse to travel long distances.)

I often wonder if my mom would have kids, knowing what she knows now, if she got to have another go around on this ride called life. A life totally separate/after this one. How many women actually would?

I think after a lifetime of being a good responsible mother all women should be given a life of absolute freedom to find and be the person they most want to be.

I’m a better mother than my mother BECAUSE of my mother. She was better than her mother, and hers was better than hers and so on.

My daughter, should she decide to be a mother, will be better than me.

I WANT her to be.

I want her to learn from the mistakes I made. I want her to look at me and think that at least I kept trying. At least I kept going. I kept getting up to be her mother whether it was great that day or not. And if I failed, which I have, I still got up to do it again the next day.

I also admitted when I was wrong, apologized, and tried to do better.

My mom didn’t do everything right. Not by a long shot. But she gave me what I needed to do better, and the knowledge and strength to do it.

In the end that’s what matters. That’s what being a better mother really means.

The Never Diet

I noticed that my pants are getting tight. I’m not a thin person by any means, and if you want the truth, I don’t really want to be. Anymore.

For years I tried, desperately, to be the kind of girl that every other girl seemed to be, or at least trying to be. You know thin, constantly in a state of trying to be thin. Constantly trying to take up as little space in the world as possible.

I stuck my finger down my throat after every large meal from eighth grade to my junior year of high school. I would never have called myself fully bulimic, but I got pretty skilled at making myself throw up quietly so that no one knew what I was doing. I also got it down to a science so that I could get in and out of the stall fast enough that no one realized what I was doing. So I guess it’s hard to say I wasn’t bulimic.

I took diet pills and sometimes other pills that I knew would make me not hungry. I skipped meals, but truth be told I’ve never been good at that. Anorexia was not something that was ever going to come easy to me. It required a control that I really didn’t have.

Eating too much and then purging it all afterwards though?

I could do that.

I stopped because I got tired of it. Really. There wasn’t some miracle cure. No moment of total clarity. I just didn’t want to throw up in public bathrooms, or even my own, on purpose anymore and so I didn’t. I would love to have some insane moment of hope for some poor girl in the same position as me sixteen years ago on some dirty floor in a public bathroom to cling to but the truth of it is, until you value yourself more than what others think of you, then nothing will help.

The only thing I can say to anyone going through it, or looking for advice to give to those going through it, is the same thing that’s been said a thousand times:

I’ve been where you’ve been. That gross ass bathroom, which somehow doesn’t feel as gross as you think you are, trying to get the food you just couldn’t seem to keep yourself from eating back out again. You have to know that it isn’t worth it.

Of course in my case, the damage has already been done.

I have all sorts of digestive issues and stomach problems. Acid reflux is a nightmare.

The best solution I’ve found is to eat healthy food and get outside, and try as hard as I can not to think about it.

But all over my Facebook, at least once or twice a month, a phase of dieting will commence. Three of four people at a time will announce that they are going on a diet and seem to want their facebook friends to hold them accountable.

Or they’re selling weightloss products.

I don’t want to shame them. You gotta do what you gotta do. Or do what you wanna do.

The thing is, it’s catching isn’t it?

The feeling that there is something wrong with you if you aren’t a perfect body weight. That there’s something even more wrong with you if you aren’t constantly self-deprecating and struggling to get that body.

As someone who has struggled their entire lives with the concept of weight loss, and food as the enemy, it’s as hard to say no to dieting and self deprecation as it is to a big piece of chocolate cake. But for me, dieting is like a gateway to the dark side.

Of course if you aren’t actively trying to look better, then there’s always someone there to say, “You should be worried for your health then.”

I always worry about my health. I’m a mom. I have to be there everyday for people who depend on me. Truthfully, I worry more about my health now that I’ve decided that I’m not dieting anymore than I ever did when I was focused on dieting and weight loss. Weight loss can help with many health problems but it isn’t the solution to everything and it’s also not the best to be achieved through rapid weight loss plans, crazy diets, overly-intensive workouts, or pills.

For me, that’s where that road always leads.

There has always been this myth that thin was synonymous with healthy. That if a girl looked the way she was supposed to, then her health was automatically good and nothing to be concerned with. Of course, as women, we grow up surrounded by bodies that are all completely different and we see how those bodies, our friends, eat.

We all have a fat friend who eats healthy and exercises and a thin friend who eats total junk all day and couldn’t run if you paid her. We all do. Or at least, I’ve yet to meet a woman who can’t point out two acquaintances by name who fit the descriptions I just mentioned.

I, personally, have to start looking at food as fuel, and not as something that I’m not “supposed” to have.

Forbidden fruit is the sweetest fruit. Literally.

I also have to start moving around more. Corona and the sudden dive into the deep end of full blown homeschooling (and other life stuff in general) has really put me behind. I used to really enjoy yoga and hiking. I always made a point to get a 30 minute walk in everyday and I’m starting to miss it. Yoga would probably be a good thing to get me out of the total rut that I am in because I remember how relaxing it was.

I’m not dieting anymore even though my pants are tight. No keto or low carb or whatever new exercise craze that’s popular. I don’t plan on doing some dramatic before and after. I don’t want pills or energy drinks or to join your gym because, while I think many of you look really cool, I’ve never felt the need to lift hundreds of pounds.

I’m just trying to get my life back on the track I want it to be on. Healthy and happy. I want to find an activity I enjoy, usually alone or with one other person, and I want to fix my relationship with food so that it’s just that: food.

Will I fall back off again?

Probably. But if this year has taught me anything it’s that life is too short to be more worried about how you look than how you feel.

Exhaustion, Anyone?

I’m tired.

Are you tired?

I’ve started burning any mail related to the upcoming election without reading it because let’s face facts:

We’ve all, already, made up our minds.

I’m not going to try to change anyones thoughts or opinions as far as this election goes. I’m not only tired of trying but I’m tired of feeling like I’m supposed to try.

Neither is a candidate to jump for joy over and to be completely truthful I’m annoyed by anyone that has found anything to celebrate about either option. Two white dudes cut from different corners of the same damn cloth. The only difference is that one seems to at least know when to shut the hell up.

Guess which one I’m voting for?

But I don’t want to argue. As I said, we’ve all made up our minds so let’s just get this shit over with.

The air is thick with hate and anxiety. Everywhere you go and everywhere you look people are angry or tense or both. Maybe I’m an empath, or maybe there’s no such thing and I’m just crazy, but I feel like I’m suffocating under the pressure of everyone around me’s emotions.

It’s rare to go out and see people happy anymore.

I imagine that this is the closest that we can get to seeing what animals look like before a hurricane or an earthquake.

Everyday is another: “What the hell happened today?”

It’s hard to make plans. It’s hard to move forward because it feels as though the world is just stopped and waiting for this fucking election to end. Waiting for this corona/covid-19/plague 2020 to end or maybe kill us all. Whichever comes first.

Who the hell knows anymore?

I don’t. And let’s be real here, no one else does either.

We’re all just getting by, and that’s okay right now. What else can you do?

I’ve decided to start taking pictures again. I miss it and if the world is going to end, or just get even slightly worse, then I want to spend more time doing things that I enjoy. Things that make me happy.

So I’m going to take more pictures damn it.

Just do what makes you happy everyday and keep fucking swimming guys.

Week 4: Homeschool Is Exhausting

It’s the end of the fourth week of homeschool. I can say with 100% certainty that it was much harder than I thought it would be.

I’ve spent a lot of time assessing the kids and seeing what they already know, as well as what they are wanting to know. After trying to work out a curriculum for just two kids (one in seventh grade and one in fifth) and create something resembling a working school day, I know that I could never be a teacher in the public spectrum.

Of course I’m constantly reminding myself that these are not ordinary circumstances anymore.

The current state of our world is becoming more and more stressful everyday. I know that we all feel it. The kids want to see their friends but they also feel anxiety about going back to school (hence the homeschooling). I am both trying to live my life while trying to adhere to the guidelines, which are pretty simple for the most part, to keep my family safe. The hard part isn’t following the rules, the hard part is dealing with those who are angry all the time.

They’re everywhere. They’re mad because people are following the rules and they’re mad that there are rules. Then there are those who are so afraid that they look animals caught in headlights darting in and out of stores. Their anxiety radiates off them it’s so intense.

I have to keep reminding myself that I’m no longer educating my children for the world that I grew up in. That school needs to serve a purpose beyond just education right now. We have to prepare our kids for a world that is changing day by day in ways that most of us were not prepared for.

A world that is scarred by greed and war. A society that is being torn between the open minded and the closed, and their refusal to accept what they cannot understand. A society in which empathy is a dying art.

Every day I ask myself, how do I teach my kids how to live in this world on their own? How can I keep them safe while making them strong enough to make change? What is the best way to teach empathy?

It’s been pretty difficult. Who the hell am I kidding? It’s been really difficult at times. Trying to get my kids to listen to me 24/7, getting them to not drift off into the comfort of home and get distracted. (Yeah it’s pretty easy for me to get just as distracted)

On top of that, I’m working on the side trying to make $$ to pay for the little things we need here and there, and truth be told it’s not working out so great. I keep reading these blogs written by women who have farms and fifteen kids and side business and they homeschool and somehow still have time to write about it. (HOW DO YOU DO THIS I AM DYING…)

I’m up before the kids, I’m in bed after them, and I’m still not figuring out how to make the ends meet up. I feel like, and this is with a month or more of preparation, that I am constantly reading curriculums and looking for ways to teach them new things that aren’t boring or going to lead to a total meltdown. I am constantly trying to schedule my life out so that I can get everything I need to get done, DONE!

I’m also reading tips on ways to deal with things like meltdowns, theirs and mine. I feel like all I do anymore is read but not things that calm me down, things that make me feel overwhelmed.

What is going to sound the most insane though is that I’m still sure this is the right way for us. This week was not as bad, and we’re getting into a routine. I didn’t have to tell the kids what to do for more than a few mornings and I didn’t have to argue with anyone…well not about school.

The kids are always telling the rest of their family about the things they’ve learned and they have actually been excited about some of our discussions. We’ve finished up a book already and I’m looking for some others to read this year.

Social media “friends” are always going back and forth on how they feel about sending their kids to school or how they feel about keeping them at home. People yelling out their opinions (typed IN ALL CAPS) about what everyone else is doing and why it’s wrong.

As for me, I don’t think anyone knows what they’re doing anymore. I know I don’t. I think it’s time we all admit we’re all just trying to get through the day, every day. Just trying to get through the rest of this damn year.

I need a vacation. How many weeks until Summer break?

Is It Over Yet?

I am exhausted.

Yet, I feel like I’m getting nothing done.

Today I realized that I couldn’t remember the last time I watered the plants. I’ve been keeping up with it really well up until a few weeks ago. Then I discovered my new weird ass succulent that looked like a dinosaur mouth and had been doing AH-mazing…dead.

Let’s get real though. It’s happening with almost everything I do lately.

Time is almost non existent these days. Or it’s not consistent at least. Sometimes it feels as though there is too much of it and so much nothing to fill it with and then some days, like today when I realized that I don’t have much more time before I have to actually shake myself (and my kids!) out of this corona-coma and put on my best Miss Frizzle impersonation. Just a little more than a week.

(Holy shit. Like a I honestly just looked at the calendar on Thursday, Aug 7th to see that)

I can’t go in anywhere anymore without feeling overwhelmed by the people around me because I swear I absorb peoples emotions.

Maybe there’s a scientific explanation for it, I don’t know. Maybe it’s extreme empathy? Maybe I’m what the cool girls call an empath? Maybe I’m just batshit crazy?

I just know that the social anxiety is creeping back in and I’m doing all I can to hold myself together. (*I am on meds. I have a doctor. Thank you for your concern.)

It isn’t just me though. Everyone I know is beginning to crack at the seams. Everyone feels like a guitar string being tightened and it’s not long until it snaps.

I’ve been going back and forth on whether or not to completely remove myself from social media for a while because of all the intense shit everyone is posting. It’s a hard world to live in for just about everyone right now. And everyone is pissed off about it. What’s worse is the feeling of helplessness because nothing anyone seems to be doing is fixing anything and there are so many things that need to be fixed.

I wonder if it’s something akin to what animals feel before a big storm comes. That burst of adrenaline before all hell breaks loose. Fight or flight.

But we can’t really go anywhere. Any of us.

I’ve always enjoyed being home but that was when I knew that I could go somewhere and there was a level of consistency to that going out. Now there are, not only ever changing rules, but those so adamant against said rules that they make the situation that much more difficult for everyone else.

I don’t really get it. Masks aren’t the end of the world. They’re annoying and I know that I’ve touched my mask and my face and pinched the fabric around my nose, because there’s always fuzz that somehow gets in there and it just won’t go away.

As for social distancing, I’m all for it. I think that’s an awesome thing to keep around. I mean, okay, not always six feet forever, but like four.

I don’t want to argue with anyone about what you believe about the masks or corona. I just don’t. Hence the “I think I might remove myself from social media for a while”. There is a lot of information going around and I get that. It’s so much that it’s hard to filter through. You have to research every thing you read lately, to make sure that it’s up to date and accurate.

I get it. But I’m really tired of it. I’m tired of reading the crazy theories that have no other basis than what someone wants to believe is going on. I’m also tired of reading the actual crazy news which really doesn’t need a conspiracy theory because it’s all already nucking futs.

But there is also the feeling of the need to know what’s going on. Because things ARE changing pretty quickly. There’s also this small bit of optimism in me that opens up my news apps hoping for some sign that things are going to get better instead of worse but every day it’s just…worse.

My kids are really starting show it. They are bored and stressed and tired. They are also confused and sad. They want to go places. Usually on the last week of summer we do lots of fun things. But it’s not really possible at this time.

We aren’t really school shopping this year, other than a few new pencils and notebooks. There is a part of me that’s really happy about it. I mean, it’s never a cheap shopping trip. I am really glad that I’m not out looking for the best deals on new shoes and clothes or trying to find the specifically school requested item (like calculators or specific type of folder) that no store in town seems to have.

There’s also a part of me that’s sad, because while we’ll pick up a few things for homeschool, it’s all another reminder of how different this year has been. For all of us.

I’m hoping that starting school and actually sticking to a routine will help them as well as keep their mind on other things. Maybe we can try to make a new normal. What choice do we have?

We are all tired and stressed and scared. I don’t know anyone who isn’t. I know a few who are scared but are trying to hide it with a lot of anger and a quick PSA to ya’ll : Coughing on people, getting thisclose on purpose, and yelling at minimum wage workers just trying to get by does not make anyone want to listen to your ideas on how the world actually works.

Whether or not we agree on how any one of this came to be we’re all in it together.

Garden Growth

I’ve really fallen in love with gardening this year. It has truly been my escape through all this craziness. I love walking into the garden to see the hummingbirds and butterflies fluttering around the patch of zinnias and sunflowers.

I love plucking fresh okra, cucumbers, tomatoes and squash off the vine. I’m excited to see how my luffa will turn out, and the eggplant that’s just starting to grow.

It’s a peaceful place to be, in the garden.

Marigolds, sunflowers, lima beans, and cucumbers

Of course there is a lot that I’m learning about when it comes to the negative aspects as well.

Such as fungus and mold and bacteria. Then there’s also a whole smorgasbord of pests, many that could survive a nuclear blast. From all this, I’m learning about what should be grown in a pot and what shouldn’t and how to do it better next year.

For example, I now understand that cabbage worms come from hell and peas hate heat. My potatoes did not do so well in the old tires. I’m not 100% sure why but I know that nothing came from them.

I got a small batch from the ones grown in the laundry baskets but not enough to say that I’d do it again. I plan on trying a few new “in the ground” methods next year and see which ones work best. The good thing is that I got enough potatoes to make a meal or two and enough to save for seed for next time.

It was however the best garden that I’ve put out so far, so at least it’s progress and not regress. I grew things that I’d never grown before and I had a few things pop up in the garden that I didn’t even plant.

(*ground cherry, currently researching recipes and uses)

Wild ground cherry that just popped up one day

My herbs did much better this year. I have more thyme than I knew what to do with, as well as mint and basil. My lavender is the biggest I’ve ever seen this year and the rosemary didn’t die. I hope to grow more next year, as well as more of a variety.

The year isn’t over and I plan on attempting some fall/late crops which I have never tried before.

The thing that I feel I’ve learned the most from gardening is the way that you have to flow with the seasons and the weather. You can’t control anything to an exact certainty. Instead you must figure out how to live along side it. Gardening is, more than anything, a lesson in patience.

Gardening requires you to take the seasons as they come. To appreciate everything in its turn. In the spring I planted, in the summer I worked and reaped a little, and in the fall I will do more of the same but with different crops.

The world may be changing. It may feel like it’s going a thousand different directions at once but in the garden things are the same as they’ve been since the beginning of time. Spring, Summer, Fall, and Winter. Plant, nurture, grow, harvest. It is a comfort to know that some things don’t change and some things are controlled by a force stronger than we are. Mother Nature demands respect always.

Learning In The Time of Corona

The first day of school is August 17th.

I told the kids this morning and it was met with groans and sighs.

And more groans. Some of them mine.

So on August 17th we’ll wake up and the kids will actually get out of bed before 9 am and they’ll sit at the kitchen table.

And that’s it.

We’re homeschooling.

I won’t get into what I believe or don’t believe in as far as what’s going on in the world right now but I will say that I don’t see how going to school right now, trying to accommodate all these new, and constantly changing guidelines, is going to be a stable learning environment.

We’ve talked about it for the past few months. Waited for the school to officially decide how things were going to work, and to see how things were going to go as far as The Cororna, but let’s face it. Shit don’t look good.

While a bit impromptu and scattered, homeschool seemed to work better than “normal” school for my daughter so I’m hoping that I can easily add another kid into the mix. Of course I’m more than a little stressed already and I’m just in the planning phase.

(*teachers are laughing at me and they can. Trying to plan for just two kids has taught me I couldn’t plan for 30. Salute teachers!)

The boy learned nothing from his NTI days through the schools. Nothing. As I’ve written before, I’m not blaming teachers.

He did his work and he did it well, but it was just worksheets that kept him busy and seemed to be mind numbing more than mind opening.

The boy has an outrageously active mind that has to be constantly fed new information and ideas. He needs more than worksheets. He needs a more interactive education and the only way that I feel that I can do that right now in this “whole new world” is with homeschool.

I am lining up the books we’ll be reading for at least the first few months. I’ve found some things online that will assist us in a reading group as well as reading journals. The books will also tie into some of the historical events that the kids area actually wanting to learn about.

As far as math goes we’re going to be learning Real Life Math. At least for a little while. I’m in the process of creating my own workbook that will include budgeting and other basic forms of money math. Science is going to be tied in with the other lessons in some form or fashion. I’m hoping we’ll get to do a lot of the experiments that the kids have been wanting to try. We’ll also be doing gardening.

(*they aren’t super excited but I told the boy he could call it herbology if it made things better, it did a bit.)

The most important thing, I think, that I’m going to have the kids do is to keep a journal that they will write in every morning. I plan on having writing prompts every day but I think that keeping something to document this time in history is important. it is through things such as that, journals written by regular people, that real history is learned.

To be honest, I don’t have a lot of expectations. I have a lot of ideas and a lot of things that I hope to try, but I’m not going to say that I have full faith that it will all work out.

If COVID-19 has taught the world anything it should be that things don’t always work out the way you plan, and you just have to try and go with the flow of life.

I hope that eventually things begin to open back up and the kids and I can do field trips to local places as well as join some of the local groups that I’ve heard of that cater to homeschool kids. For now I’ve lined up a pen pal program for the kids to try so that they can have some sort of contact outside of each other and the parental units.

The “First Letter” form sent to us by the Pen Pal group we’re using.

The important thing to remember right now is that the world is scary. It’s scary for adults and it’s extra scary for kids who have to see their parents struggling to deal with it all.

As always I don’t pretend to have all the answers I’m just a woman trying to keep her kids safe in a world that is at best uncertain.

Crazy Covid Coaster

I Know, I haven’t written in a long time.

Well I have written but I haven’t published it. Mostly because everything has been a rant or a ramble. I think too much of what I’ve read lately has been of that same anxious/afraid/angry thread and I don’t want to follow that crowd.

My anxiety was taking the wheel and the car wasn’t headed in good directions. As I’ve said before I’ve thought about publishing some of my crazier thought drafts but the thought of a large public reading of these makes me paranoid that someone might come and carry me away in one of these unmarked minivans. Since I hear that’s how we’re doing things now.

I also want to make sure that I’ve done my research before I ever post anything of the “Let me tell you what to think” variety.

The world is scary-crazy right now, huh?

It’s not just me right?

I am currently in the middle of learning how to correct my own prejudices and some wrongly held historical notions, while planning a year of homeschooling for a fifth grader and a seventh grader, as well as a crazy gardening mess of weeds. Not to mention all the covid-19 craziness…

The weeds in the garden are probably the least of my worries. (The tiller broke, then the weed eater broke, and when the push mower broke I laughed out loud because 2020 is officially the worst) (I hoed but I couldn’t win the war against the crab grass or the Bermuda grass-but I’m preparing my attack)

I’ve taken a lot of breaks from social media and the news and really anything that isn’t my kids or my garden or my animals. But even that often leaves me feeling guilty that I have the ability to do so, as well as anxious that I need to know what’s going on.

Change is coming fast and it’s coming whether or not anyone wants it or is ready for it.

I take every day as it comes. I’m learning new things and I hope to write about them soon. Homeschool plans, harvesting, and how the garden this year went. I’m also prepping for the fall garden and the winter garden and I’m revising some of the crazy posts that I’ve got sitting in the drafts box.

I have no advice to give at the moment. I just hope that if you’re reading this you are okay and you know that you matter.

Also, if you feel like you’re going fucking nuts, you’re definitely not alone. I am on the crazy covid coaster with you.

Who’s Afraid of The Big Bad Witch?

Talking about religion when that religion isn’t christianity in the Bible Belt is not the best of ideas. I’ve lied about it, well been completely evasive, on more than one occasion. I honestly don’t consider myself to be religious, maybe spiritual is more the word for what I feel (?). Either way it is not the norm here.

I grew up with religion all around me. The last thing anyone can say is that I didn’t try or that my family hasn’t tried to convert me. It just didn’t stick. I enjoyed studying religion from a more scholarly position, but when it comes to practice almost none of them appealed. The only one that I’ve been drawn to more than any other is the idea of being a witch.

I grew up surrounded by witches. My mother was obsessed with Bewitched and we watched it any time the reruns were on. I knew how badly she wanted to be Samantha. She talked about it all the time.

“If I were Samantha I could just twitch my nose and the whole house would be clean all the time,” she’d say.

My family was matriarchal without intending to be. It seemed to be a strange sort of destiny that all first born daughters would give birth to all girls or at least another first born daughter. It even seemed to defy biological law as all the first born daughters (myself included) married men who came from men who only had sons. Long lines of sons, broken by first born daughters. I’m sure someone could find a scientific explanation but I’ve always felt that sometimes life is better with some small magical oddities and mysteries. I like the idea that even in the womb we girls beat the boys.

When my sisters and I were little, playing witches with flowers and old bowls in the yard was our most common game. In fact, if I think on every girl I ever befriended, they all wanted to be witches more than any of them wanted to be princesses. It’s like the feminine in all of us is drawn to witchcraft.

Later it was Charmed. We were three sisters who pretended to live in a big house while playing “potions” and this show was like something from our most imaginative days. The Halliwell sisters will always be a special part of our childhood.

There were other witchy pop culture references that my sisters, and even my mother, were drawn to, but I’ll try not to go too much into the whole history of women and witchcraft. There are so many books by writers better and more experienced than I that explain the connection of women to witchcraft and you should definitely read and research a few.

My own experience just highlights this seemingly “new wave” of people being drawn to witchcraft. For the record, I don’t think it’s a new wave, just that it’s more in the open and people don’t feel the need to hide their interest. I myself feel more comfortable talking and writing about this interest now than I did before.

Witchcraft in the South, where the Bible Belt is cinched up tight, isn’t something that’s easy to be open with. Especially as a huge portion of the country, many of them in this area, tries to desperately pull the rest of the country back to the conservatism of the 1940’s (maybe even the 1840’s).

Religion is something that I’ve always struggled with. Everyone I knew was a christian of one sort or the other (Church of Christ, Methodist, Baptist, you get it). It seemed to be just the way of things, like the sky being blue and the grass being green. I thought that I had to go to church the same way I had to go to school, even though I hated it even more than the latter.

I was in my teens when I began testing the waters of being an agnostic. I tried one more time after my kids were born to find the same connection to God and church that everyone I knew seemed to be finding but I never did. It never stuck and I never felt the comfort or certainty that everyone else had. I enjoyed the sense of community and the way everyone gathered together for celebrations but I found myself often thinking that the God of the Bible wasn’t a God I wanted to worship, real or not.

So do I consider myself a witch?

I believe in science and reasoning. I don’t think that I have magical powers and I know I’ll never be able to twitch my nose and clean my house, sadly. I do however think that there are things that have not yet been explained by science, and even still when you really delve into scientific thought, it’s pretty magical all by itself.

I also collect rocks, love to garden, and connect with nature. I enjoy making the effort to flow with the seasons and plant by the moon. So am I witch? Maybe.

I’m sure some might say yes, anyone can be a witch, it’s just a sense of spirituality that comes from reclaiming our power over and within ourselves without a patriarchal rulebook. Others might say no, that there is a specific religion that you must follow. But I think the latter is rare.

I think for most people who call themselves witches it’s more about a natural connection than it is about twitching noses to clean houses. Although if anyone figures out how to make that work PUH-LEASE let me know.

This must be some upper level witchcraft.

I’ve seen a few people from my neck of the woods post on their social media accounts that they’re interested in all that is considered witchcraft. Maybe the aesthetics but also I think we all crave a connection to the natural world. Mother Earth if you’re witchy.

I’ve also seen others that think this “new wave of witchcraft” is what is going to bring an end to the world.

But let’s get real, if it’s 2020 and people still assume that women admitting they enjoy cool rocks, gardening, meditating, playing an ancient card game, and connecting to nature while occasionally reciting positive affirmations then I’m pretty sure ignorance is what is going to bring about the end.

Garden Thoughts…

I’m up late trying to plan out my garden for the year. I’ve already planted a small salad garden in an old kiddie pool, and a cooler weather garden in a pallet raised bed (peas, onions, carrots, radishes, and cabbage). I’m also trying to test my luck with growing potatoes in laundry baskets as well as old tires. Some people say it doesn’t work and then there are others who swear by it.

We’ll see.

Purple Majesty and Russet potatoes in baskets

My flower bed is growing and I can’t seem to stop buying plants. Of course I’ve been this way for a few years now, so I’m hoping I don’t kill anything this year (I’m getting less murderous year by year) and I manage to succeed at least in a few new ways.

I’m being honest here so I’ll just go ahead and admit that gardening is one of the few things in my life that I’ve failed at, repeatedly, but keep trying every year.

I’m usually a giver-upper. I won’t deny it. I’m not even a sore loser. I don’t get mad or upset about not being good at something I just don’t put any more time into it.

Sports? Forget it. There was no reward that a public school teacher could offer that would make winning a race worth it. Not to mention the fact that when the race was over we weren’t going to be doing anything that was in any way different than running/whatever sport we were attempting had been.

My son is going through an intense Harry Potter phase (which I’m tremendously excited about). He’s on the third book but he’s seen all the movies and read every piece of commentary he can find on the series. I mention it because he’s putting every one, literally every one he sees, in their Hogwarts houses (“What house do you think The Rock is in?” “What house do you think my teacher is in?” “What house do you think that old lady crossing the street is in?”).

Anyway, it’s been decided that I could never be a Slytherin. Ambition? What is that? (*I’m a Gryffindor if you’re wondering)

So, back to the gardening that I keep trying so hard to be good at: I’ve been planning out the big summer garden. Squash, corn, sunflowers, okra, tomatoes, cucumbers, beans, peppers, pumpkins, and (totally new to me and very exciting) luffa. Figuring out what should be planted next to what, and the best times for everything.

I haven’t asked for a lot of help. I know that a lot of people around here are just dying to give me their advice. The need to mansplain is very strong in the rural south. The thing is, the only persons advice I care about is dead.

My Grandma Sue was green from her thumb to her chin. She could plant a tire and grow a car, as they say. I never knew anyone who loved to grow things the way that she did. I remember walking around the yard with her and asking her the names of the flowers that she had. Things she grew from seeds or cuttings. Things she dug up from the side of the road and transplanted.

She died a little over a month before my daughter was born and we had planned on putting a small garden in together, so she could teach me, that spring. It didn’t happen.

I have some things that I transplanted from her yard to mine growing in a small bird garden. I’ve also managed to learn quite a bit over the years that I’ve been growing things.

I can tell the difference in the seedlings I start in the greenhouse, and I know the names of all the things that I have in my flower bed. I’m also learning about different kinds of wildflowers and finding uses for the things that I’m growing that aren’t just food related. I think she would’ve gotten a kick out of the candles and beauty products I’ve made.

In the Fall I hope to can and put away some of my vegetables using some recipes that she passed down to us.

I see now why she loved being in her garden so much. I only wish that she were here to help me pull weeds out of mine.