Another Day in the Life of an Unschooling Witchy Mum
Another Day in the Life of an Unschooling Witchy Mum
Where unschooling meets witchcraft, and chaos is just another word for "Tuesday." Picture this: a cozy little cottage nestled in the Devon countryside, four wild children, a cauldron of herbal tea (that I swear I will finish hot one day), and me—a medium who spends more time talking to the spirits than to any other adult humans.
The day kicks off like every other day way too early. My 10-year-old, has already declared it’s time to wake up, mainly by coming in and jumping on my bed, shoving a deck of tarot cards in my face. “Mum, can we ask the spirits what we’re doing today?” Yes, this is how we roll. I groggily agree to a reading, while my youngest pair, (age four and seven) who are way to quiet for my liking, are busy pretending to bend air and water using only a wand and some very questionable Latin.
The eldest, who’s a tween, is happily sat in her room with a star patch on her face, begging the angels to make her spot to magically disappear. I’ve resigned myself to the fact that she’s going to be a super manifestor.
Breakfast is a blur of cereal, spilled milk, and being told that today’s science lesson will involve dissecting whatever creature they can find in the garden. Before I can argue, they’re out the door, leaving a trail of toast crumbs and sticky fingers in their path.
The 10 year old decides math for the day is counting how many spirits we can talk to during our morning walk. (Spoiler: it’s more than I can handle before my second cup of tea.) the youngest insists on bringing the homemade wand to “zap” lessons into existence. And honestly, I’m just trying to keep the dog from bringing any more crystals on our walks and burying them.
We wander down the lane, identifying plants and dodging the occasional sheep. The kids are convinced the sheep are enchanted—probably because I told them that last week when I was desperate to keep them entertained.
Lunchtime is an experience!
Imagine our kids around the kitchen table, my 7 year old stirring a pot of “potion” that’s half soup, half mud, and the youngest happily smearing peanut butter on everything in sight, because he wants to eat with his fingers but doesn’t like it on his hands. The dog on the other hand is loving lunch time. Meanwhile, the 10 year old is having a convo with a friendly spirit who apparently used to live in our cottage a hundred years ago and really wants to know what the internet is.
Once we’ve somehow survived the meal, it’s on to some “kitchen witchery.” This translates to making biscuits, where the kids bless each one with good vibes—and about a ton of sprinkles. I’m pretty sure we’ve invented a new kind of magic: summoning sugar-high energy that could power the village. I swear they had such a sugar high after one biscuit that my 4 your old could see sound.
By evening, I’m desperately trying to get everyone to settle down. We gather for our evening ritual, which tonight involves the 7 year old asking every question ever asked. Ever!
The youngest is body slamming every cuddly toy in sight or in his words battling goblins. Well and the eldest girls have their own pre bedtime ritual of skincare and writing in their journals.
We end the day with a story, some snuggles, for the littles and a lot of promises that “tomorrow, we’ll definitely get to that flying spell.” I finally get everyone tucked in, only to realize I’m still wearing the fairy wings someone stuck on me hours ago.
As the kids drift off to sleep, I sit down with my much-needed tea, only to find it’s gone cold. AGAIN. But as I look around our messy, magical little home, I can’t help but smile. Sure, it’s chaotic, and sure, I’m probably going to find glitter in my bed tonight, but hey, that’s just life as a witchy unschooling mum in Devon. And honestly, I wouldn’t have it any other way.