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.