It’s been a wild ride the last few weeks. Jake had a birthday early in November: he turned 30 years old, and I had secretly planned a party for him. His best friend flew in from Michigan and completely surprised him: we pretended to be doing a Mario Kart game online together, and instead of joining the match virtually, he walked in the front door.

We had an awesome week together, including a visit to the train museum which Michael greatly enjoyed.

The surprises didn’t stop there! Family and friends flew in/drove up for the party: two of Jake’s sisters and Jake’s younger brother were able to surprise him too.

Then we had the party itself! Friends and family came from all over — San Francisco, Los Angeles, Utah and Ohio! — to celebrate with us. I didn’t get many pictures once the party started — we were having too much fun playing games and drinking old-fashioneds (Jake’s favorite cocktail).

It was so nice to see so many loved ones and to celebrate Jacob and his 30 wonderful years, and the many more to come.

Beatrice turned 8 months old at the beginning of the month as well, and her little personality is beginning to shine. She is so funny, intense, wriggly, and strong.

She has recently decided that spoons are her mortal enemy and being spoonfed is an indignity. She absolutely must feed herself with her own two hands or nothing gets past her tightly clamped lips. However, she still has no teeth, though symptoms of teething persist. She also snuck a big bite of Michael’s breakfast muffin and consequently got her first taste of chocolate.

She can stand by herself for a handful of seconds, but otherwise is content to (rapidly) crawl everywhere and pull up/climb on everything. She very clearly says “Mama”, “Dada”, and “nehnehneh” (nursing). Whatever her older brother is doing or playing, she wants to be in on it too. She is fully a Daddy’s girl, and will crawl straight to him whenever he’s in the room, demanding to be held. When music is playing, she will dance and bounce up and down with a huge grin.

Michael continues to amaze and challenge me: he’s so smart and kind and never stops moving for a second. He wants to be tumbling, somersaulting, jumping like a frog, or running at all times. We recently got him a rocking balance board to help him get some of his sensory-seeking energy out.

He continues to be obsessed with all things that go — trains, garbage trucks, cars, tractors, bulldozers, and more. He has a will of iron and a blazing curiosity, and a steel-trap memory. He often recites his favorite books to himself as he plays, and improvises parts he doesn’t fully remember.

We get some sweet one-on-one times during Beatrice’s naps: we recently began playing Candy Land together (though he loses interest quickly so often I have to rig the game). We also enjoy water coloring and playdough and kinetic sand activities.

It’s beautifully brisk and overcast most days now, and I’m fully embracing soup season. A common dinner is soup and soda bread, and it’s nourishing to the soul as well as the stomach. My current favorite recipes are this pasta e fagioli and this Irish soda bread. The house is often full of the smell of bread, or cookies, or simmering broth. It’s like a warm embrace for the senses.

Unfortunately, both kids have been sick this week — Michael fought whatever it was rather quickly, though he’s still a tad under the weather. Beatrice, however, is still fighting a gnarly fever that’s kept us all awake through the wee hours.

My making practices have been slower of late, given the illnesses and the company and the prep for Thanksgiving as it approaches. When sleep deprivation ramps up, writing is one of the first things to back-burner. Words often get stuck when I’m fatigued, and no amount of coffee will dislodge them. But knitting replenishes my soul, so I try to find a moment or two each day for a few stitches.

I finished a bonnet for Bea, a small scarf for me, and cast on a new shawl to add to my pile of WIPs. I’m definitely procrastinating on Christmas knitting, which is becoming dangerous as we approach December.

With the hectic pace of life right now, I’m grateful for the early sunsets and the calm that comes with the darkness. I try to savor the moments I can during the day, but I find myself looking forward to 8 pm, when the kids are asleep and the kitchen and living room have been cleaned and reset for the morning. I light a candle, I make peppermint tea, I pick up my knitting, I talk and laugh with my beloved and we read in silence or watch a tv show/podcast together.

I’ve begun a compilation of Dorothy Day’s writings, and they’re a consolation and a joy to read. I’ll end this post simply with a quote from her that greatly resonated with me: I hope it resonates with you as well.

October raced by: I feel as though I blinked and suddenly it’s November. I failed to reach my self-imposed deadline of two posts a month — though technically this was written the last night of October — but better late than never.

It’s been very busy around here: we took care of the property for a couple weeks while my parents were away on a trip, making sure all the plants and animals stayed alive and well. (They brought Michael back a double decker bus and a backhoe, so he has forgiven them for their long absence.) It was mostly uneventful, though it did make me grateful we live in community: taking care of everything by ourselves is more work than we can sustain long term. I’m grateful we can share the work load between families and have everyone benefit.

A lot of our life recently has been in survival mode as we deal with two sleepless kids and tend to the homestead. While Michael has started to sporadically sleep through the night (praise God), Beatrice, our formerly “easy sleeper”, has spurned the title and now fights naps and bedtime with nearly as much gusto as her big brother. For the past week, she’s been up close to every hour at night — I blame teething, since she still hasn’t popped any teeth.

I try to focus on the joyful moments: I know this season won’t last forever. On my fridge calendar, I’ve written a reminder that gets me through the best of days and the worst of days: You will never have this day again. It reminds me on good days to cherish these memories — this time I have with my babies is short and sweet. On bad days, it reminds me that I won’t have to repeat this day ever again, and tomorrow will be kinder.

There are many, many joyful moments — I try to remind myself to look for them daily. One of the things that I especially love about being a parent is being a tradition-keeper. I think back on my own childhood — the different traditions we kept as a family greatly impacted me, and I cherish my memories of those small family rituals. Now that I have my own family, it’s my job to pass on or create traditions that our children will grow to cherish. Maybe that’s why I love autumn so much: it’s full of small rituals that brought us together as a family.

Carving pumpkins was always something I enjoyed growing up, and so I passed that tradition on to my kids. Michael loved helping me scoop out the guts until he got some on his hands, then he decided to let me finish the job. I carved a classic jack-o-lantern face for him, and he helped me place the candle. Then he painted his own pumpkin (and I helped Bea with hers).

For Halloween this year, Michael was excited to be Saint George, using his dress up toys I got on sale from Sarah’s Silks. I made Jake a dragon head to wear last minute. Beatrice was a bee (the choice was obvious) and I wore one of our beekeeping suits.

I’ve been trying to prioritize more outdoor time now that the temperatures are less oppressive, but it’s been difficult with a very squirmy baby who insists on moving as much as possible and putting everything in her mouth. However, we still manage to spend some time in the late afternoons out in the garden. Michael helped me harvest the last of the peppers and tomatoes — brilliant splashes of orange and red amidst the fading greens. The overgrown garden desperately needs to be cleaned up and put to bed for the cold months, but I don’t see that happening anytime soon with my current energy levels and free time.

Gardening is always a humbling reminder of my own limitations, but I refuse to give up on it. It might turn into a wilderness halfway through the summer as I struggle with the balance of motherhood and homesteading, but watching Michael giggle and wade through the weeds to pick tomatoes makes the labor (and failures) worth it.

Maintaining a garden is another important tradition to me. There is something deeply human about keeping a garden. When you tend the earth, it tends you back. Gardening is something I want my children to grow up doing, and something I want to grow old doing — even if I’m terrible at it right now.

I jumped into autumnal cleaning (another thing that’s become a tradition for me) and went through the house organizing, rearranging, and gathering unused items for donation. It was very satisfying and helped me relax: clutter is a huge contribution to stress for me.

Going through the kids’ clothes also helped me plan my next knitting projects for them. Both kids needed new hats for the cold months. I had one already in the works for Michael, and finished it with a few days of dedicated knitting. He loved it so much that he refused to take it off (or let me fix the brim) for the entire day. He still wears it every morning when going to feed the dogs with Jake. Now another bonnet for Beatrice — I’m hoping to finish one before the end of November (in the midst of all my other various knitting projects).

For my own wardrobe, I finished sewing my Chanterelle Pants. I took my time with these: every seam is carefully finished (French seamed or flat felled) to ensure there are no raw edges and the garment will last a while. I’m very proud of them and plan to wear them often.

Toddlers particularly thrive on routine and ritual — I’ve noticed how much smoother our days progress when we stick to familiar patterns. So right now we’re making the same recipes, watching the same movies, and cycling through the same sensory games and toys. I love seeing Michael’s comfort and safety in the familiar, and also his joy at repetition and mastery.

Lately, I’ve been struck by how pivotal traditions are to our lives whether we’re aware of them or not. From our morning coffee to our bedtime prayers, rituals shape our minutes and hours, forming our days; our lives. We really are creatures of habit — even if we scoff at ritual, we can’t escape it.

So even in the moments of exhaustion, I’m trying to be mindful of my daily habits and the routines that set for my children. Is my morning ritual scrolling my phone with my coffee, or reading books with my coffee? Are dinners a time of togetherness and peace or frustration and hurry? And to keep myself from being overwhelmed at all the things I’m not doing, I just tell myself: you’ll never have this day again. And I focus only on the things I can do today.

One habit, one day, one moment at a time.