Meet the new Witches. (Same as the old Witches)

Hey guys!!! I’m writing to you via Ghost instead of Substack for the first time, so this is a bit of a trial balloon and thus maybe a bit of a hodgepodge issue just in case there are issues with deliverability, subscriptions, etc. I am slowly spiffing up the joint and learning what needs to be addressed in real time, so thank you for being patient with me if you see spots that look a little generic or wonky. In fact, if you notice any issues right now, please don't tell me, not yet. Just tell me everything looks great. Troubleshooting to come.

As a thank you for your patience, I unlocked a few previous subscriber-only posts linked herein. (The comments sections didn't carry over from Substack, but you can still refer to them over there if you want to check them out.)

One friend asked me last week if she’d missed a recent issue, and I said no, because I hadn’t sent one. Here is a pie chart (shout out to Ann Friedman who invented them) to illustrate why I've been a bit out of it lately:

Let's dig into the metrics. Here's what was behind the malaise:

• Perimenopausal fatigue/brain damage. These symptoms hit sporadically harder, but this last week, it was extra rough. I had a hard time reaching for words, and forget about it if I was trying to talk to my family while reading something else. My brain flipped letters around when I read words on a page or screen. I completely ghosted a haircut appointment, which I felt terrible about (when my stylist texted me “hiiii Claire,” it didn’t remotely occur to me that he was asking me where the hell I was.) To try to ameliorate this I booked an appointment with my gynecologist and sent her a message asking if I should get my blood tested to adjust my hormones. In the meantime, Epsom salts and time in the sauna do help my sore hips. I feel so old.
• Sandwich generation shit. But wait! Not too old. My parents and my friends’ parents get to claim that mantle. There are a lot of parallels between raising kids and being a caretaker and one of them right now is akin to holding your breath in case daycare or preschool calls you with some day-disrupting news. I recently got a device to help me focus on work, but I discovered a downside: if you ignore your texts for too long, you may be in for a mountain of shitty news from your family or friends when you log back in. There you are, feeling good that you sent off one email, and you check in only to learn that a parent has wandered off, or won’t answer the door, or has fallen and needs head staples, or has fallen and is having a brain bleed, or has MRSA after a lung cancer surgery infection. (All real recent examples.) Like when your kid comes home with an ear infection or has to get picked up because they were being disruptive, it’s not good for your flow or joy. 
• A “standing by” period of parenthood. My husband and I were arguing about how to describe this stage of parenting (kids currently 10 and 13). He calls it “waiting.” I say “waiting” is too nice because I find waiting defined and soothing, like chilling at the car wash waiting for your car to be ready or doing Duolingo as you wait for your kid's music lesson to end. While they need less hands-on care right now, there are so many more appointments and projects to lightly oversee, apps to check, gear to get, and early start days and late practices to work into life. It’s very administrative. And the kids, as you can imagine, are tremendously grateful for this and not at all monosyllabic or pedantic.
• Good old-fashioned clinical depression. Shout out to all the sadgirls! I take 75 mg of Sertraline a day and try to get exercise and sleep and am sober and I still find myself wondering why I can’t get it together. I try to tell myself nobody is asking why I’m not delivering as frequently or as sparkling as I think I’ve been in the past, while I’m also sad about the lowered standards of myself and the world, and mull over why I'm not a fun mom.

So these are all reasons why it feels like I haven’t churning out the good shit. But the world turns, and the sun rises, and cycles begrudgingly grind to new phases, so once again I rise to triumphantly put on my sweatpants and crack open the old laptop.

10% digital transformation. The switch to Ghost wasn’t too painful thanks to their handy concierge service but it did take a bit of effort and concentration and time lag since they’re in the UK and have firm boundaries on work hours (which I support!) so it took a few weeks to complete.

The malaise (detailed agonizingly above) didn’t contribute to me getting excited about/locked into the transition. With all that said, if you're like me and mad at Substack for various reasons, go easy on people who are still there if they are like you and me and moms just trying to do their best. It does take time and focus to transfer everything over and to pay for a membership to another platform (at least in my case), and that’s not easy for everyone in this economy.

Anyway enough of all that. I have more to come, regular content-wise. Like this good old-fashioned house rant:

Your laundry room may be pretty, but joke's on you, you're still doing laundry

One of the ways I show my mother love lately is by buying her magazines but it's also a way I show myself love since I read the magazines before or after her. I recently picked up a House Beautiful, which tried to tell me that a pretty laundry room will make me enjoy the task:

"No one wants to fold clothes in a soulless box," opines designer Justin Tollefson. I'd like to edit that quote to say "No one wants to fold clothes," full stop. He also encourages you to make your laundry room a place where you can take a moment, to cut flowers connect with art. I do like whomever's laundry room this is below, where they include a photo of a woman sticking her head in a sink, I presume to throw up from all the laundry she has to do:

Listen, it's a luxury to have a space to do laundry but the idea that the task will suddenly be a pleasure the room is pretty is as whimsical as suggesting cleaning toilets will be less shitty if you have a fun toilet brush.

Another designer in the story advises thinking about what kind of laundry doer you are and to design accordingly. I invite you to consider what kind of laundry doers we are in my family with a glimpse at our own area:

End credits

Thanks for reading Evil Witches, a newsletter for people who happen to be mothers. Thanks for hanging in there.

Not much should be that new over here on your end (still mildly under construction, so thank you for your patience), but I did add some new payment levels (if you want to check them out, go here or check out the green button at the bottom of your screen) If you do care to show yorr support Evil Witches, now a non-Substack newsletter, a nice thing is that my platform no longer takes any of that fee.

Finally, just a reminder if you like Evil Witches, please also check out the parenting podcast I co-host called “Not Right Now”  with my cohost Quinn Emmett. If you’re a paid subscriber to this newsletter, you get extra pod content—just reply to this email and lmk if you want to be added to the list. We have had a few witchy podcast episodes of late, including talking to Sarah Wheeler about ADHD, Meghan Graham about watching old movies and podcasting with kids, Joy Netanya Thompson about how many kids to have, and Devika Bushan about staying sane in a MAHA world.

One random last thing: I asked paid subscribers awhile ago what you could do it you could have one "free" midlife crisis. This isn't "free" but one I decided to pull the trigger on is a women's only hiking trip in Sweden this July. I recently learned that a spot opened on this particular trip so if that sounds like your flavor of crisis you can learn more here. (This trip is not affiliated with Evil Witches in any way; just something I am doing.)

One witchy thing

Text I got last night from a witch who had a snow day–