Somehow, this entire month slipped away from me. There have been so many beautiful things — adorable moments with my kids; quiet evenings knitting or reading with my husband. There have been so many difficult things — illness, toddler tantrums, teething sleeplessness, generalized exhaustion and spread-thinness. Life currently feels like a stream churning and tumbling, overfull from snow melt. We’re keeping our heads above water (barely) and being swept along at quite a pace.

Beatrice turned 9 months old at the beginning of December. She’s such a joy: she proudly sports not one, not two, but three teeth (one on top and two on bottom). She popped her first tooth the day she turned 9 months and it’s been an intense teething fest ever since.

We can see her communication cogs churning as she grows: she waves to everyone whenever she hears the word “goodbye”, and is starting to get close to saying dog and cat (“doh” and “keh”!). She is very strong willed (I know we’re ALL surprised) and screeches like a pterodactyl when thwarted. Recently, she’s also started growling and loves to growl back and forth with anyone who will indulge her. Her favorite toys are the tv remote, my unattended phone, pens, and any of her brother’s cars or trains.

Michael is a whirlwind of energy, opinions, love, rage, and giggles. His current obsession is quacking like a duck at the top of his lungs — I admit I’m eager for this obsession to end. He recently discovered Thomas the Tank Engine and loves it with all of his toddler heart. We watch the old classic episodes on YouTube and he reenacts them with his train sets. He’s continued to be hilarious and give us fun quotes to record for posterity. Here are some recent ones:

After I gave him his advent calendar chocolate: Me: Michael, you have to put it in your mouth! His reply? “Not yet! I’m thinking about it!”

As we fought off yet another cold, I heard this exchange during bedtime routine: Michael sniffled and forlornly asked Jake: “I want a new nose 😦 Can I have yours, Dada?”. Jake, also sick: “You don’t want mine, mine isn’t any better.” Michael thought for a moment, then said: “How about mama’s?”

I told Michael to stop playing with the humidifier and he indignantly said, watching the clouds billow from it: “It’s not FIRE. It’s just smoke!”

We’ve tried to indulge in some fun holiday festivities now that Michael is old enough to remember the wonder and joy of it. Saint Nicholas paid us a visit and left Michael some treats in his shoes. We made a gingerbread house all together, and Beatrice was enamored with Christmas lights. At our homeschool co-op we celebrated St Lucia day, and Michael made a “Starboy” crown.

We walked down one of the streets in town that puts on quite a light show, and Michael loved seeing the Grinch and Rudolph (his two favorite Christmas movies) lit up everywhere.

My siblings came home for Christmas — Uncle Jon has especially been a snuggly favorite.

We had our annual carol sing, and we loved singing old hymns together around the piano with friends and family.

Unfortunately, immediately afterwards a nasty cold swept through our households, knocking us down one by one. It was nice to be healthy for the first three weeks of December, but we’re all looking forward to being well again. Continual sickness is quite discouraging. At least my immediate family was able to make it to Liturgy for the Nativity before we got struck with it too.

I managed to finish Michael’s Christmas vest in time, but Beatrice’s sweater is woefully unfinished. I’ll try to finish it before her first birthday instead. So enjoy a picture of Michael being a ham and posing with his new vest. It’s made out of a gorgeous yarn my parents brought back from Ireland.

Christmas was a joy, despite half of us being ill. Christmas Eve we opened presents with the immediate family in matching pjs. Beatrice delighted in wrapping paper and tags more than the actual gifts. Michael overflowed with energy and excitement as he unwrapped trucks and trains galore.

Christmas Day some of us were well enough to celebrate with our cousins, and we had a delightful time laughing and eating delicious food together. I love watching my cousins become “aunties and uncles” to my babies.

Uncle James visited us for a few days before Christmas, then came back to spend time with us after Christmas too! Michael is thrilled to have someone to play trains with him, and they’ve been doing bedtime stories and prayers together every night.

Jake got a handful of lock-picking tools for Christmas, and James and Jake have been practicing their lock-picking skills every night this week (with Michael even joining in for a moment). They have practice locks, but have also been working on our front door. Nothing is safe from their puzzle-loving minds.

And now we’re in the liminal space between Christmas and New Years, trying to kick this illness and enter 2025 healthy. I’m proud of some of my personal accomplishments in 2024. I successfully held to a moratorium on yarn-buying for the entire year. Everything I knitted this year was made from gifted yarn or yarn purchased in 2023. And I made quite a lot of knits! You can check out my Ravelry page for the complete list, but I finished 19 different projects and have 5 in various stages of completion. I also finally, after four years of trying, hit my Goodreads goal of reading 50 books this year. I’m trying for 55 in 2025!

I have resolutions for the new year, but I’m holding them gently, like eggshells in my cupped hands. The end of this year has been a difficult one in many ways. I’m learning my limitations, and seeing just how much I need to grow in holiness to be a good mother and wife. I’m learning to treat myself gently, not like a machine to be run into the ground. And I’m learning to be present, to “be joyful though you have considered all the facts”, to quote Wendell Berry.

I’ll end with this poem by Wendell Berry that has been very fitting for my stage in life: a stage of constant movement and of standing still and waiting, a stage of beginning; getting up again and again.

Thanksgiving was a blessing; a bright day that broke through the fog of the surrounding weeks. Leading up to Thanksgiving, we’d been fighting mild colds, handling some stressful personal decisions, and helping my great-aunt recover from pneumonia.

My in-laws came for the week, which was a delight! Watching Michael bake with Oma and Beatrice cook with Opa was a highlight for me. We enjoyed sitting by the fire pit and playing games in the evenings — Michael especially loved Opa reading to him in funny voices from his dogmatic theology book.

Uncle James was a life saver and became a fast favorite playmate of Michael’s. He played cello (even figuring out how to play Farmer in the Dell for an insistent toddler), watched both kids so I could rest after a particularly rough night of sleep, and built endless railroad tracks and blanket forts.

It was also great to spend time with my siblings, who came home for a few days. I love watching them love my babies.

On Thanksgiving Day we had nearly 30 people around our tables — we were supposed to have more, but there were some unexpected illnesses and hospitalizations that prevented some from coming.

It’s a Thanksgiving tradition for us to dress nicely and take photos with friends and family. I think we got some great pictures, despite feeling under the weather. We got some great family shots for our Christmas card! And some hilarious outtakes too. Michael is quite a ham, and has learned to do fake grimaces when told to “smile”.

Unfortunately, directly after Thanksgiving Jake got a cold and I came down with a nasty flu. The flu spread to my parents and grandparents, though it thankfully missed the kids. But now both Michael and Beatrice have miserable runny noses and coughs, so we’re hunkering down yet again to weather out these illnesses. After nearly three weeks of sickness, all of us are anxious to be healthy again.

And now we’re in Advent. We’ve already been in the midst of the Nativity Fast since mid November, but as a family we still wait til the first Sunday of Advent to break out the Christmas decorations — a way we embrace both our Eastern and Western faith heritage.

Despite illness, we put up some Christmas decorations, and even put lights up outside for the first time since we moved here. Beatrice was quite excited by the sight of her first Christmas tree and tried to put everything in her mouth. Michael enjoyed watching Rudolph the Red Nosed Reindeer a bit more than he enjoyed decorating the tree, and has a new affinity for hot cocoa.

I had to explain the concept of stockings when Michael asked why we had “socks” hanging from the bookshelves. When I said that they’d have small gifts and treats to eat on Christmas Day, his response was, “like peanut butter and jelly?”

He’s had some more adorable “toddlerisms” lately.

My current favorite is him yelling at me from his room, “Come on Mama, I need someone to keep an eye on me!”

Whenever the dogs bark, he runs to the window or door proclaiming, “I’ll check it out!”

He asked if we could lock Bea up “in the cat’s room” (our laundry room) because she kept getting into his toys.

He also threw his wooden play food stick of butter into the air, happily screeching “ButterFLY!” over and over — I’m not sure who taught him that.

When he’s upset or pouting, he forlornly says, “I can’t do ANYTHING at ALL”.

After Opa finished helping him build a railroad track: “Opa! I’m so proud of you!”

And much to my chagrin, another recent quote was: “QUIET! My mama gets too much grumpy if it’s too loud.”

Advent has always been my favorite liturgical season. The more experience I have with my own human failings and with grief, the more I appreciate the quiet contemplation of Advent. I think of the refrain of the faithful: Come, Lord Jesus. The cry of Advent, the cry of the Church as we wait for the Second Coming. It contains such grief and pain, and yet such fierce hope and joy.

I just finished reading The Winter Pascha by Fr Thomas Hopko, which walks through the different celebrations and hymns of the Nativity fast and feast. It was beautiful and a much needed balm for my soul.

I’m in a season of life where I’m spread pretty thinly — like butter over too much bread, to paraphrase Tolkien. We’re learning as a family what we need to take care of ourselves physically, emotionally, mentally, and spiritually. I’m trying to learn my limitations before I run into them face-first, and often failing.

I’m reminded of my favorite poem by John Milton: Sonnet 19, written as he was going blind.

When I consider how my light is spent, 

   Ere half my days, in this dark world and wide, 

   And that one Talent which is death to hide 

   Lodged with me useless, though my Soul more bent 

To serve therewith my Maker, and present 

   My true account, lest he returning chide; 

   “Doth God exact day-labour, light denied?” 

   I fondly ask. But patience, to prevent 

That murmur, soon replies, “God doth not need 

   Either man’s work or his own gifts; who best 

   Bear his mild yoke, they serve him best. His state 

Is Kingly. Thousands at his bidding speed 

   And post o’er Land and Ocean without rest: 

   They also serve who only stand and wait.”

Sonnet 19, John Milton

Like Milton, I’m fighting despondency at my limitations. But who best bear his mild yoke, they serve him best.

This Advent, I don’t have much to offer. I am among those Milton references in that beautiful last line: they also serve who only stand and wait. Right now, all I’m doing — all I can do — is sit with these profound mysteries of the Church in the slivers of silence I have to myself, and pray.

Come, Lord Jesus.

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.

There you are, October. I’ve been waiting for you.

I’ve been looking forward to my favorite month all summer. I’m embracing the fall vibes wholeheartedly — even if the temperatures refuse to comply. We’ve been in a heat wave of 100+ temperatures (as high as 105) which has made fall baking a bit difficult. Hopefully next week we finally have some cooler weather.

We moved into our little cottage two years ago in October. As the sun sinks earlier in the sky, its golden light traces the bookshelves and icon corner and reminds me of our first days in our home. I have a renewed gratitude for this little sanctuary as I remember those times.

Michaelmas was at the end of September, and we had a mixed berry cheesecake to celebrate our Michael. Even though the Eastern Orthodox calendar celebrates the Archangel Michael in a different month, we also celebrate Michael’s name day by the Western Orthodox calendar, given he’s named (in part) for the Western Rite parish where Jake and I met.

Beatrice turned seven months old at the beginning of the month — I can hardly believe how big she’s gotten. She babbles constantly, crawls everywhere, and wants to be standing or pulling herself up at all times. She recently even pulled herself up onto the couch. Her new favorite trick is sticking her tongue out when she smiles.

Whatever Michael is doing, she wants to do too. We’ve had to extricate quite a few trucks and trains from her lightning-quick grasp.

She still hasn’t popped any teeth, though she fusses and pulls at her ears and drools a lot and has newly abysmal sleeping patterns. We’re fervently hoping that she sprouts those teeth soon and we get some better sleep.

We’ve started introducing solids — she especially loves sweet potatoes and applesauce. It’s helped with making family dinners a more peaceful affair: Michael no longer fights sitting at the table for longer periods of time because he enjoys watching his sister attempt to eat different foods.

Michael seems to have turned another developmental corner. His speech is becoming clearer and more complex, and his imaginative play is a delight to eavesdrop on. He’s got some adorable quirks. Instead of saying “what do you think?” when showing off artwork or anything he’s working on, he’ll say “How you think?”

Some of his recent toddlerisms include:

Me: Michael, you’re a pretty cool kid.

Michael: I am indeed!

“I don’t want to be on the freeway. I want to be on the STOPway.” — said on the long drive home from church.

“I eat food because I have a mouth. A big mouth!”

Michael: *making me play food* This is ALL for you, my dear!

Michael: Beatrice is out of your belly?

Me: Yep, no more babies in mama’s belly.

Michael:….you should buy another one!

Michael: *standing by the toaster* My bagel popped! Good job bagel, good job.

We’ve been making a lot of high protein breakfast muffins (recipe here), and Michael loves helping. He does most of the steps by himself and counts out the number of cups of the different ingredients. His favorite part is still licking the bowl and stealing chocolate chips.

I bottled up our vanilla extract that’s been brewing since January — it smells heavenly. I also dried the leftover vanilla beans and added them to a few cups of sugar, to bake with or make simple syrup.

Although we haven’t been able to be outside much due to the extreme temperatures, we’ve been enjoying early mornings on the porch and evenings in the shade. Michael plays with his animals, trucks, and sensory bins, Beatrice plays with different noisy dishes, and I get a few minutes to read or knit.

I’ve picked up my knitting with renewed passion. I finished my Felix Cardigan: it had been languishing in a project bag for almost a year. When I began making it, I was pregnant and unhappy with the way it fit my body. I pulled it out a few weeks ago with the intent of unraveling it, tried it on, and realized it fit me really well. So I knit the remaining sleeve and button band and now have a cozy sweater for winter. I also dusted off my mauve Weekender Sweater, which is now my evening mindless knitting project.

I finished my 12 oz combo spin and am very happy with the end result. It’s squishy, jewel-toned, and autumnal. I have two large skeins (approx 600 yards). When I finish a few of my works in progress, I’ll cast on a shawl with it. I also cut out a pair of Chanterelle pants to sew when I get a chance.

I’ve been on a yarn purchasing moratorium since January, and I’m proud to say I’ve managed not to purchase any new yarn in 2024 — despite harrowing temptations. This means I’m getting creative and stash-diving for the kids’ Christmas knits. I’m planning to knit Michael a classic cabled vest (or jacket, depending on how much yarn I have) and Beatrice a caplet. I made the mistake of mentioning to Michael was knitting him a jacket…now he asks if it’s finished and if he can try it on nearly every day.

We had a few rough days with baby sleep and toddler tantrums recently, so that threw us off our routine. We are slowly getting back to limiting screen time, slowly starting to implement our morning rituals again, and slowly returning to a more mindful and intentional way of approaching each day.

I still have to remind myself not to beat myself up over these frequent setbacks. We’ve had a lot of screen time, and lost many of our previous rituals as I work to survive Beatrice’s new sleep patterns. As I may have mentioned, I’m a recovering perfectionist. It’s a bad habit that parenting has really helped break: being a perfectionist parent is a fast road to burnout and despair.

Right now, to combat perfectionism and burnout and despair, I try to hold two things at the front of my mind: presence and repair. In the end, those are the things that matter most. It’s not the amount of Little Bear my toddler watches when I’m sleep deprived: it’s the way I still sit with him and snuggle him, or make sure we have one-on-one creative time later. It’s not the number of times I lose my temper: it’s the way I apologize and ask forgiveness when I do.

This realization has given me a little light in my own spiritual life. Presence and repair are the things that matter most in my faith as well: presence and attendance in the life of the Church, and repair and repentance when I fall away from the Church’s teachings. I might not be in a place right now to attend every church service or keep strict fasts, but I can show up to do daily prayers alongside my toddler. I might be struggling with the weight of my sins, illuminated by sleeplessness and the magnifying glass of parenting, but confession and repentance repair the rift and bring me closer to God and to wholeness.

So onwards I go, toddling along in my own journey of holiness beside these little souls.

September has arrived and brought a few more 100+ degree days with it. But in our air-conditioned house with the fans going, I’m still pretending autumn is here.

We had a close call accompanying the hot weather. Near the side of our house, we had a few piles of grass clippings and yard waste — not quite a real compost pile. However, with the heat and the decomposition in the piles, the conditions were just right for spontaneous combustion and a grass fire began.

Thankfully my dad smelled the smoke and found it before the fire got too big. I’m grateful for God’s provision and our guardian angels’ protection. Needless to say, from now on we will be raking flat all piles of yard waste and keeping them far away from the side of the house. We also had a power outage and another fire scare on the property, plus I’m fighting another cold. So it’s been an eventful September!

Beatrice is six months old — I can barely believe it. She’s crawling everywhere, sitting up on her own, and getting into everything she can. She also managed to pull herself upright briefly on the couch a few days ago before promptly falling over, and then a few days later pulled herself up on her crib bars and stood there triumphantly for quite some time. I’m afraid we may have an early walker.

Her teeth still haven’t popped through, though the drool and chewing and fussiness is still intense. She babbles “mamamama” all the time, and is definitely continuing to find her voice. She loves to sing along with people, especially in church. Her grins are contagious, and despite the fussiness she is one of the most joyful babies I’ve ever encountered.

No one can make her laugh harder than her big brother. She always wants to do what he is doing: playing with his toys, crawling after him, watching him run around. He puts up with it very well, and loves his baby sister (even if he has a hard time sharing with her).

Michael recently got a haircut and looks so much older: less like a toddler and more like a little boy. It makes his cowlicks much easier to manage, but seeing him look so grown up makes my heart so full it hurts. His new favorite pastime is playing with “magic sand” with his dump trucks and toy animals.

On Labor Day, we (aptly) labored through canning or prepping for freezing 4 buckets of tomatoes. Michael and Beatrice had a lot of fun playing with their great-grandma as I helped in the kitchen. It’s a lot of work, but well worth it. Having fresh tasting canned tomatoes throughout the winter is such a gift.

We also had some dear friends stop by for a quick overnight trip — a short but sweet evening.

We had a few temperate days, which meant we could have a picnic dinner (much to Michael’s delight). We get some nice shade in our front yard after 4 pm, and a soft breeze usually picks up and dispels the worst of the heat. We love our tiny patch of scavenged grass for picnics and general barefoot revelry.

Our tomatoes and lunchbox peppers are thriving well enough. Our zucchini and yellow squash are both struggling due to squash bugs, despite my attempts to vanquish them with neem oil and a spade. Jake set up an automatic watering system which has kept my garden limping along. I’m grateful, because I don’t have the energy to pour much time or effort into it. I’m embracing being a chaos gardener in this season of life, and I’m grateful for every misshapen tomato and pepper I get.

In the midst of the chaos I’m still working on several little projects. I finished my “Little Women” socks, which fit perfectly. Another pair of socks for Jake are on my needles, as well as some baby bonnets for friends of mine who are expecting. I’m also planning on casting on the kids’ Christmas sweaters soon so I can finish them by December.

I’m slowly piecing my next quilt, and realizing I don’t enjoy the quilting process as much as I enjoy having a quilt. The precision and focus needed to cut the fabric is exhausting. Piecing is fun and so is handquilting, but what I really enjoy is snuggling under a handmade quilt while napping or reading. It’s a coziness like no other.

I chip away at both reading and writing whenever I get the chance. Contact naps and broken sleep have given me more chances than usual, so I’ve been able to add about 300 words a day to my fiction project and continue to stay on track for my Goodreads challenge of reading 50 books this year.

With the emergence of crawling/pulling up we’ve had some very rough sleep regressions. Between Michael and Beatrice, we wake up about 3-6 times per night, sometimes for more than an hour at a time. So it’s been difficult for us with sleep deprivation, baby fussiness, toddler tantrums, and generalized life busyness. Mothers of more than two children, I salute you. I don’t know how you do it.

I’m accepting there are seasons of surviving, and that’s okay. I am told there will be seasons of thriving in the future. I’ve been so grateful for art in this season of life: both the art I create and the art I enjoy. Music, watercolor, reading, textile arts — all have been life-giving in some pretty difficult times. Making art is an act of subcreation, a uniquely human act.

Because of my gratitude for art, I’ve been thinking a lot about making and the place it holds in my life and in the culture. And the more I think about art and humanity, the more staunchly I loathe generative AI.

Recently there’s been a lot of uproar in the online writers’ circles regarding generative AI. Those of you who knew me as a high schooler probably know I was obsessed with NaNoWriMo: a nonprofit organization that encouraged writers to write 50k in 30 days. I wrote (and finished/won) several novels over my ten years of participation. About week ago, NaNoWriMo put out a statement condoning the use of generative AI while calling those who speak out against AI’s use in the arts as ableist and classist (something so ridiculous I won’t even address it, given there are plenty of outraged disabled authors doing a great job refuting this already). They had already fumbled some pretty serious things last year as an organization — but this new statement shows a fundamental, fatal disconnect in both their view of intellectual property and the relationship between art and humanity.

So I’m disappointed and upset, deactivating my NaNo account, and doing a lot of ruminating on art and machines.

There are some things that machines can do to help artists: for instance, I’m grateful for spellcheck and word processors. I’m grateful for YouTube tutorials and Pinterest inspiration as teaching materials. But generative AI is a different story. These LLMs are able to churn out something that looks like art, but only because they have been trained on terabytes of human artists’ images (without the artists’ consent). The same goes for the paragraphs they spit out: trained on words that authors have written, and without consent for this use case.

An author I appreciate wrote a letter to the Writers Guild of America on this very topic: you can find it here.

AI training seems like a thorny situation from the outside, but I urge you to distill the matter to its essential form and take action. Ask who is truly benefiting from this technology in this format. Are we really making work easier and content better through sophisticated Madlibs filled in with other people’s work? No, AI is the guy at the party who sounds clever as he repeats phrases he read online without synthesizing the information in the slightest.

Maggie Stiefvater

Passively accepting generative AI into the creative process is dangerous. Our society already treats art as though they’re entitled to it. To cheapen art to mere machine-created content is to damn it. AI cannot make, it can only mimic. But if mimicries make money, they’ll soon take the place of real human artists. Culture will suffer. The quality of the art that comforts you during difficult times will suffer. The artists, musicians, and novelists who are replaced by cheap imitations will suffer.

All that to say: think before burning resources by using yet another LLM for an artistic endeavor. See if you can barter with or pay a real human with real original ideas for what you want instead. Or better yet, expand your skillset and your soul by learning to do it yourself.

Maybe sleep deprivation is turning me into a grumpy Luddite. But I’d rather be a grumpy Luddite than live in a world where art is done by machines and taxes are done by humans.

The temperatures have been slowly declining, hovering in the low 90s. It’s been lovely: we’ve been able to play on the porch and outside in the garden much more, and also enjoying sunny mornings indoors with all the windows open.

Unfortunately, over the past week and a half our family has been fighting off a head cold. We have taken turns being sick: first my mom and Jake and Beatrice, then Michael and my dad and me. I’m still on the mend.

Bea didn’t let a cold stop her from improving her crawling skills, however. She still prefers scooting on her belly, but also has started using her hands and knees. She also got up to a sitting position by herself recently. I now have to keep a close eye on her: she is very fast and has army crawled over to the cat (or Michael’s trains) in the blink of an eye. She also found her toes — they keep her entertained more than any other teething toy.

Meanwhile, Michael is being a very patient big brother as he learns to keep his favorite toys out of reach. He’s leapt forward this month in terms of language: listening to him narrate his imaginative play is an absolute delight. He also recently discovered he can make Beatrice giggle, and often pretends to be a jumping frog shouting RIBBET to get her to belly laugh.

He also had a play date with my mom while I was sick and needed extra rest: he loved spending special time exploring with grandma. I got this photo from their excursion, and couldn’t believe how grown up he looked.

We’ve done a few thrift store runs on days when the heat was especially oppressive. I love finding secondhand treasures: it saves us money (especially with the kids’ clothes!) while also helping me curate our home with vintage and eco-conscious beauty.

My favorite discovery is this crescent moon candle holder. Michael loves his “new” farm puzzle and tractor flashlight.

Being sick threw us off our routines: we’ve had more screen time and less outdoor play as we recovered. But I’ve still tried to be intentionally unhurried about things as I can. More meals at the table with the candles lit. More mint iced tea or iced coffee out of pretty cups (this cup now comes with me everywhere and helps me stay hydrated). More homemade treats (including this easy and delicious cinnamon roll recipe).

We’re also making more time for art. Michael loves painting and art, and I wanted to do something with him instead of watching or doing another project next to him while he painted.

I also really wanted something to do with my hands when my wrists are tired from knitting or spinning. So earlier this year, I decided to buy a set of watercolors and a sketchbook.

Art is something that has never been easy for me. I have always loved writing, and I do consider myself a fiber artist, but I struggle with art in the traditional sense of paint and paper. If a picture is worth a thousand words, I would much rather write the words than pick up a paintbrush. Because of that, I used to avoid it. It gave me anxiety to think of other people seeing my clumsy attempts at drawing or painting. I placed so much pressure on myself to be good at things.

But over the past few years, I’ve begun to embrace being an amateur. There’s something remarkably freeing about doing something only for the love of it, without any expectations or pressure to be good at it. I enjoy playing with color, and the unpredictability of wet-on-wet paint, and finding random references on Instagram or Pinterest to help me hone a particular skill.

I’m not planning on sharing much of my watercolors here: I feel like that might add some of the pressure and expectation I’m trying to avoid. But I wanted to share an unexpected side effect of learning how to watercolor: the way I see the world has changed.

In watercolor, it’s often a good idea to move from light to dark colors because the white of the paper is your light. So when I’m beginning a new painting in my sketchbook, I look for the lightest places and move forward from there. If I see something beautiful I want to paint, I’ve begun automatically looking for the lights and shadows.

The practice of looking for the light has been bleeding over into other parts of my life. Especially as I struggled through these past few weeks of illness, sleep deprivation, and parenting difficulties, doing watercolor alongside my son has helped me remember to focus on the light more than the dark.

I could dwell on the difficulties that have been weighing me down: exhaustion, loneliness, tantrums, teething, illness, etc. But I find, just like watercolors, I enjoy both the process and the end result much more if I look for the light instead: baby giggles, bedtime snuggles, cinnamon rolls, good books and tv shows, handknit socks, frothy coffee, porch playtimes…and (of course) watercolors.