To The Mom

To the mom I met at the library today with the six week old and the rough and tumble two year old who told me with tears in her eyes that she is just trying to figure it all out, 

To the mom trying to be mom and dad and doing it all on her own, whether she wants to or not,

To the mom feeling ashamed for pregnant “again” at her age with so many littles already,

To the mom who feels like she is just drowning in the dailyness of it all whether she has one child or seven,

I see you. I honor you for all that you are doing for others whether they appreciate it or not. You are good and worthy of love and care. Your sacrifices though mostly unseen are laying the groundwork for the kind of love and humility that are being sewn into your little ones. 


Each and every tear you have shed out of loneliness, desperation, exasperation or exhaustion counts for something. They matter to the heart of the Father who loves you unconditionally, even if you feel like a bad mom some days.

“You keep track of all my sorrows. You have collected all my tears in your bottle. You have recorded each one in your book.” Psalm 56:8

“The Lord is close to the broken-hearted, and saves the crushed in spirit.” Psalm 34:18

You can do this. You *are* doing this. I think you’re a rockstar. If I could, I would bake you each a cake and let you eat it in delicious silence while I supervise all our kids in the backyard. You are a goddess. You are a damn superhero. You are choosing the better part and it will not be taken from you. 

Be Here Now

This is not the summer that I thought we would have. 

Our last few summers have been pre-planned with dates for a vacation and a cottage stay booked, swimming lessons, near-daily trips to the beach and meals thought out ahead of time and well-balanced. 

This summer has not been that. 

This has been the summer of sleeping in, boxed cereal, backyard kiddy pool, too much tv, ice cream for dinner and naps all around. It’s been staying up late, hanging out at home in our pjs and not many plans.

Our house went up on the market in March and it is still sitting there. It has forced us into probably the least eventful and quietest summer we’ve had for years. And you know what? 

I am so, so glad. 

It has meant more sleep for me than I have had in probably 8 years. I’ve read a stack of books as tall as my three year old. I’ve been forced into letting go and giving in to what is instead of wishing for what isn’t yet. 

God is teaching me so much about being in this very moment instead of dreaming about tomorrow when the kids are older, life calms down, we have more time, we have more money, we have stuff that no one has covered in their bodily fluids. 

Discontent is a damn cancer and it will quite happily spread through our homes if we don’t cut it off at the knees. A spirit of discontent is the single most stubborn and ugly of chronic illnesses. 

I need to Be Here Now. 


Be here now and grateful as hell that my crew is still so totally delighted with a blow up pool and freezies. Tickled pink with family movie nights and pizza. Thankful that the kids still go to bed so early so I can spend time hanging out with my husband and hearing about his day. Too busy counting all the good and wonderful blessings that God has showered me with these last five years in this house instead of moaning about our mismatch furniture or the trip to New Zealand we can’t yet afford to make even though we are desperate for it. 

I know this is so cliche but today is a gift. That’s why it’s called the present. How will we open it and find joy and beauty in the now?

A Day In The Park 

My husband recently blessed me with an entire afternoon to myself. Looking at it as a mini-retreat helped me to narrow down how I wanted to spend those hours.

I decided to park in the downtown area and do as much walking as possible. This was the best decision I could have made. Less time in the car meant less driving in traffic and more time to clear my head. 

I spent the first hour, at least, just reading in our new central library and standing on the rooftop looking out over the harbour. I was struck anew by the blessing it is to live in a coastal city. I found a little gem of a book on Saint Therese of Lisieux and let my heart be reminded that when I am over-stretched and over-spent, what I really need is an infusion of Divine love. To be reminded of who’s I am and why I live the way I do. 

This led to a leisurely stroll through our city’s public gardens where I literally stopped to smell the roses. It is perhaps the thing I miss most about doing anything without children. Lingering. The slower pace of walking, taking in the sights, the smells, the sound of the birds and the wind in the trees. Deciding on a whim whether to go left or right without feeling pushed or pulled in all directions, or stopping to sit and just breathe it all in. 

Imagine my surprise then when I found all but maybe a handful of people staring into their phones instead of appreciating the beauty that surrounded us. I am just as guilty of being on my phone at times as the next person but I couldn’t believe the number of people that didn’t look up from their phones once. Someone actually walked right into me because they had their eyes on a screen. That was enough to keep me from my phone for the rest of the day.

 I don’t want to miss the gifts God is trying to give me. I don’t want to miss His voice trying to break through the noise of my daily life. I know it’s there. I have heard it. Felt it. 

I remember spending many of my single days much like I spent this. Afternoons spent this way were a regular, normal, no-big-deal occurrence but now? All a gift. My time is not my own in the same way anymore. I am armpits deep in parenting and trying to keep some sense of myself, Katie, the person. The one that God made, loved, called and shouldn’t be left behind now that I am a wife and mother. 
I am a child of God. Why is that so hard to remember? I think it’s because as primary caregiver and educator of my children, it’s easy to let myself believe that it is all on me. 

For this, I have Jesus. He calls me to come away even for a few short hours to be reminded of His goodness and provision and love. When I know who I am, I look at my husband and children differently. I know who and who’s they are and it makes me a better wife and mom. When I know who God is, I can rest in His love. I can be sure that He is at work in my life and in our home, helping us to become more like Him. 

This is strength for the journey. 

Three Years In

If anyone had told me three and a half years ago that I would become a homeschooling parent, I would have laughed in their face. I am not a primary school teacher type of woman. I don’t fawn over sticky faces, get my kicks from finger paint everywhere and joy from watching sweet little faces sound out their words phonetically. I am so not her. 

I am much more of the routine ditching, day trip, coffee shop, wine and laughs with my girlfriends into the middle of the night, knitting while doing everything type. I am just *slightly* free-spirited and rebellious by nature. And that’s probably putting it lightly. This didn’t change when I gave my life to Jesus as a teenager. If anything, I felt like all of my nature, personality and tendencies finally made sense to me. 

Regardless of how I ended up here (that is a story for another day), here we are. I did things this year I never could have imagined possible and I gained a new appreciation both for the things you can do because you said you would and for knowing your limits as a human being. 

God has given me tremendous grace and freedom within my call to homeschool our children and as a result of that, I fully trust him with the results of what we are trying to do here. I am not an A-type personality. I don’t have checklists for each and every lesson and moment of our days. That’s not who I am. My Meyers Briggs test reveals that I am an INFP. I am a majorly extroverted introvert but I still need time alone to recharge. I am terrible with the fine print and nitty gritty details but man, I love me a big picture. I love to look forward ten and twenty years and imagine who our children will become, in part because of the choices we are making.

It has taken me these last few years of putting in the work and slowly seeing the fruit being produced to say that what we are doing is building something seriously rad.

It has taken me all of this time to realize that everything I thought would be my downfall as a homeschooler is what actually makes me great at it. The ability to be flexible and roll with it when you’re oldest is working on math at the table and you’re on the couch teaching your six year old to read when the three year old announces either that they’ve wet their pants or need a bum wipe should be a marketable skill.


 I’m fairly certain that I cried through the better part of this past winter, each night when my sainted husband came home but what matters here is that we did it. I did it. With as much love and patience as I could muster and made it through to the other side. I have now taught children to read on the couch, in the bathroom, in the kitchen, in the car, in the backyard and while their siblings were basically throwing a parade right in front of our eyes in distraction. 

This has reminded me and also taught our children that learning happens everywhere. It is not exclusive to those sitting in desks in a classroom or those with a paper degree. We are not only learning if we do it in one specific way or if it is being taught by someone with a degree, though I have mad love for those teachers who basically have magical properties and can wrangle thirty children at once.

We are never done learning. I never went to university and I always felt like that made me less intelligent among my peers. I thought that meant I hadn’t learned as an adult but let me tell you, God has blown the doors wide open in that department for me. That good historical fiction based on a real person I just read, a good film, beautiful music, the many times I stepped foot into foreign countries… Spoiler alert, all learning. The forgiveness I have given and received as well as the choice to be loving and letting myself be loved when I didn’t think I deserved it? All learning. 

If there is any wisdom I can impart to my children it would be this..

There is a God and you are not Him. You don’t know everything. There is always something new to learn if you can humble yourself and take a posture of openness to what is being given to you. 

Here I thought I would be teaching my children and boy, are they schooling me. What a gift.these last three years have all been gift. 

Here Again

I have long debated whether I should just pack this little blog up and call it a day. Do people even read blogs anymore? Obviously, they do, but with the convenience and instant gratification of Twitter shares and Instagram hearts, how can we hope to compete? The answer for me at least, is that I can’t. If I am going to start sharing my heart here again it has to be for the right reasons. Not for likes, comments or shares.

Another apprehension I have had about writing again is that I feel so much pressure to be grammatically correct. God forbid I misuse a comma or forget one and an online reader deem me unfit to homeschool my children!

So, I’m just going to be real here. What I have to share with you is not perfect, but it’s me. I think the same holds true for my (and your) mothering/homeschooling journey. Our kids don’t need us for all that we can do. They need us for all that we are. My faith, my strength, my laughter, my gifts, my femininity, my perseverance to grow in virtue are all unique to me and they are the legacy I am slowly handing down to my little ones, for better or for worse.

There will likely be dark grainy photos at times and grammatical errors, to be sure, but I find so much joy in sharing about our days together and the transition we are in from a house full of toddlers and preschoolers into a house with a seven, nearly six, and nearly three year old.

I refuse to keep letting fear hinder me from writing what I want to write, whether it turns out to be read-worthy or not.  I would always want my girls to bravely tell their stories and that is what I intend to do. image

September Days

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September was busy and beautiful. We started a new year of school at home together. We visited the local Wildlife Park, the girls started Irish Dance lessons, our oldest daughter turned six and had a sweet little party with her friends. I am so grateful to be going to bed truly tired. The days are so full right now with two busy girls who love to dance and sing and color and play LEGO and be read to..and my little son who is like a party in a can. He is always smiling and climbing things and laughing unless he is teething or sick in which case he is hanging off my legs all around the house or screeching and trying to hit me while I read to his sisters. Yikes.

In any case, I am ready for the cool days and hot drinks and a lap full of wool.

“Delicious Autumn! My very soul is wedded to it, and if I was a bird I would fly about the earth seeking the successive Autumns.” -George Eliot

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