I was talking to one of me dear sister's in law the other day who recently had her third baby. They just moved to a new place and find themselves without much community, a hardship that is most burdensome to the stay at home mom. We were talking about her kids and she admitted to being overwhelmed sometimes with three (something I find people are remiss to admit to me sometimes just because I have more children, but believe me I was overwhelmed long before we got to six!). Then she said with a meek and shameful tone in her voice "I think I am the only mom who yells at her kids." My response probably should have been one of quiet assurance and sympathy but it went more like this: "BHAAAAA! Are you kidding me?! Should I run down the litany of ridiculous things I have done today to make you feel better?"
That's the funny thing about motherhood. You know you aren't alone, that there are millions of moms out there doing the same thing you are. Millions of us, around the world, that get up and think about everyone but ourselves for hours (sometimes days) at a time. We forgo the shower, sniff our clothes to see if we can wear them one more time, get our exercise while wearing people, or while navigating yoga poses around the toddler asking for goldfish with no regard to your concerns about maintaining a decent heart rate. We think about dinner with a looming dread as soon as we get the breakfast dishes in the dishwasher; we coordinate schedules, and clean toilets (and if you have boys this mostly consists of constantly cleaning the pee off the floor and never quite eradicating the odor it leaves behind); we teach, entertain, referee, and on a good day save time and energy to listen to (or on a really good day have sex with) our husbands. We are not alone and yet most women often feel like they are the only ones that don't love this job every second, the only ones that feel frustration or guilt or shame about the mistakes we make, the only one that dreams about running away without telling any one and escaping to Mexico where there are free-flowing margaritas and sun and quiet.
So today I thought I would give you a peek into just a few of my mistakes, the things I feel guilty about and the habits I convince myself no one else has. Hopefully it will remind you you are not alone, or at least convince you that your kids are better off then mine!
Television:
The Rule: No TV on weekdays for the school-aged children and no TV for the little ones until after nap time.
What Really Happens: My sad attempt at craft time ends with paint all over the floor and my clean shirt (which I was planning on wearing for 2 more days) the 3 year old hits the 2 year old with his paint brush, she screams and pours her paint out on the table meanwhile the baby pulls the plastic table cloth (where incidentally none of the spilled paint has ended up) so hard that the water cups spill until finally I pick up all the paint brushes and say as cheerfully as I can through gritted teeth "who wants to watch a Curious George?"
Sugar
The Rule: No sugar during the day and only in the evening if you have finished your dinner with a cheerful attitude.
What Really Happens: We have a busy morning with 2 doctors visits and remarkably everyone has held it together, then I remember that I have to get bread and milk or there will be nothing for lunches and I will have to go to the store at 8:30pm when I am half asleep, and I'll end up buying Ben and Jerry's and 7 other things I do not need. So we brave the isles and all is well for about 2 minutes, until the toddlers start fighting and the baby starts crying and before you know it I have closed their mouth holes with 2 donuts and pretend we are running "for fun" to the back of the store where they strategically keep the milk so that desperate mothers like me will end up buying donuts, at noon, before they feed their kids lunch.
Fast Food
The Rule: I will cook dinner a minimum of 6 days a week and it will be balanced and healthy and if you don't like it you can have a PBJ or go hungry.
What Really Happens: I forgot to thaw the hamburger for the tacos, and didn't really want that anyway, and then my husband is unexpectedly delayed at work. I consider the groans I'll get when I put said taco meet in front of a toddler and then I decide it would be easier to pile the kids in the car and drive through Wendy's. I'll cut up an apple or something and then it will be balanced, right? At least the baby will get a good meal...would you like a side of fries with that breast milk?
Yelling
The Rule: We do not raise our voices to each other; we do not yell to get our way; mommy will only yell when you are in danger and not when she is angry.
What actually happens: Eight-year-old yells at six-year-old, six-year-old whines and cries, three-year-old pushes six-year-old and suddenly eight-year-old is defending six-year-old by yelling at three-year-old to stop. Two-year-old wants juice, we don't have juice, two-year-old starts screaming and moaning while the aforementioned three-year-old hits the aforementioned eight-year-old and the noise and chaos wakes the sleeping 9 month old. I decide they are in danger, of being strangled, and I yell "EVERYONE STOP YELLING RIGHT THIS MINUTE!" I threaten to take away TV, video games, food, water, a soft bed and give every toy they own to the poor, and finally they stop....for now.
Bathing
The Rule: Big kids shower a minimum of four days a week, babies get baths every other night, or nightly if particularly dirty at the end of the day.
What Really Happens: It's the end of the day in a series of many long days, I realize the big boys haven't showered in 3 days so I sniff their hair and decide they can go one more day if it means they will be in bed sooner. I am nursing the baby and notice some unidentifiable crust behind his ear and realize I cannot remember the last time he had a bath so I give him a good scrub with a wipe and promise to get him and his stinky sister in the tub tomorrow.
Then there's bribing (do it), family prayer time (do it every night, but hardly ever make it through more than 1 decade of the rosary and that is usually painful or it's one Our Father and a kiss goodnight), house work (don't do it enough; my 9 month old ate at least 1/4 cup of old cheerios off the floor today before I knew what was happening), quality time (does diaper changing count? or signing homework folders?) reading (we are half way through The Lion the Witch and the Wardrobe, and the Hobbit, and Charlotte's Web...my six-year-old has taken it upon himself to finish these without me). You get the point.
But then, there's all the laughter and the moments where their character and kindness show through all the chaos. There are the nights when you do all sit down to dinner and they eat it, when you do all pray and they mean it, when they listen to the story and they get it. Or none of those things happen but at the end of the day they hug you tight and tell you they love you and you realize they don't care if they're dirty, or if they ate fries for dinner and they don't remember you losing your temper they just love you and they are happy to be alive and ready to get up and love you all over again. They don't keep score, they don't hold grudges, and it never occurs to them that you might be failing at anything. So next time you feel like a failure ask yourself who is telling you that; I promise it's not that little guy looking up at you calling you mommy.
Tuesday, April 24, 2012
Friday, April 20, 2012
Does This Baby Make Me Look Fat?
Ever since starting this blog I have considered tackling the all consuming topics of beauty, body image and self esteem. But where to start? There are so many things wrong with the way our culture views beauty, and so many influences and ideals bombarding us every day that it's hard to know where to begin. But I would like to consider for a moment why I am constantly left with the unshakable feeling that I am not okay the way I am. I try to limit the amount of "secular beauty" I see. I don't read fashion magazines any more, I don't follow celebrity gossip, but all it takes is watching one re-run of Friends to spawn a litany of insults in me head as I contemplate how ugly and inadequate I am. Because no matter how hard I work out, or how little I eat I will never have Jennifer Aniston's ass..ets.
It struck me recently while having dinner with a group of women that our minds are so disordered we have become completely incapable of seeing ourselves the way we really are, but we can appreciate and even exaggerate beauty in others without a second thought. These women are some of the most beautiful women I know and I often imagine what I would look like if I had the time and resources they have to commit to my personal appearance: gym memberships, trainers, nutritionists, childcare. But even they are left feeling like they have to explain why they are "letting" themselves eat a tortilla chip. We are so imprisoned to this idea of beauty that we can't even eat any more without feeling guilty (consider how often Christ draws our attention to the importance of eating, feasting and fellowship. It is meant to be a gift). And then there's all the unhealthy and obsessive comparison that echoes through the chamber of our minds while in the presence of other women: "her waist is so much smaller than mine," "how does she make her arms look so fit?" "I wish my legs looked like that," "I never look like that 3 months after I have a baby," "I nurse my baby too, but I stay fat to do it" And then I think about how unfair it is that so and so has had just as many kids as me and yet she weighs 20 pounds less, or I work out five days a week and count my calories but skinny minny over there eats whatever she wants and says she never exercises. Oh, the cruel injustice, the pure suffering! My. Life. Is. So. Hard.
Or am I just creating this suffering for myself? Is this a cross I just keep fashioning and schlepping around, praying that God will take it from me but resolved that the only "right" answer to that prayer is to make me look like Jennifer Aniston? Of course at this stage in my life I don't care about looking like a celebrity (any more), but I battle to get the looming image of my 22 year-old self out of my head.
I think we have to ask ourselves two questions:
Who set this ridiculous standard? and Who am I disappointing if I don't live up to it?
And the answer to both, is ME.
My husband thinks I am beautiful. I know he genuinely, wholeheartedly thinks that I am gorgeous, and breathtaking, sexy, and strong and perfect just the way I am. He loves me with my stretch marks and my loose skin, when I am my thinnest and my heaviest. He sees ME, just me.
My kids think I am beautiful. They love my soft skin and my long hair. I hate my huge, ridiculous milk-laden breasts, but they give my children life and sustenance and it has never occurred to them to think they make me look fat. They notice when I dress up and when I put lip gloss on before their daddy comes home and they think I am beautiful.
So why on earth have I convinced myself that I am less then because I do not weigh what I did 15 years ago? And why the heck do I think I should look the way I did when I had no children, a flexible schedule, a gym membership and a 20 year-old's metabolism? Why do I waste so much energy thinking about my next strategy to lose those last 10 pounds?---and who are we kidding if I lose 10 I will just set a goal for 10 more. My husband and my children are my whole life; I would gladly, freely, without hesitation, die for any one of them and yet I let some stranger on a tabloid, flaunting her post-baby-body make me feel badly about my tummy that leaves people always asking "is she pregnant again?"
We are at war. The devil is a nasty, evil bastard out to rob us of all that is good and true and holy. I teach my children to put on the armor of God, to guard themselves against the snares of the enemy, to call on St Michael and all the angels to protect them in battle, and yet every single day, I give him ground in this area of my life. I believe the lie that I am ugly, or fat, or not good enough because I haven't gotten down to some arbitrary number on a stupid scale. Do I spend nearly as much time praying? No. Helping others? No. Cultivating virtue in my children? Probably not. If I am not actively trying to lose weight I am creating an action plan for how I will start losing soon. And I spend an absurd amount of time imagining how much happier I will be when I finally get to that magic number. I recently came across some old photos of myself in a stack of forgotten memories and of course the first thing I did was bemoan that I had aged, and then began wishing I just weighed that again. Just as quickly I remembered the moment when that picture was taken and recalled that I thought I was fat then, or I didn't want my picture taken because I still had 5 lbs to lose. Absurd! What a waste of time and energy and what a shame that I am constantly telling God (not to mention my poor husband) that I am not good enough.
Now I am not saying weight doesn't matter at all. We need to be good stewards of our bodies, we need to take care of the temple of the Holy Spirit that God gave us. We need to be prudent, and responsible. But we also need to be content when we do all those things and are still a size 10, or 12, or 22. This is clearly where our culture doesn't help AT ALL. Babies and pregnancy are only celebrated if you barely gain while your pregnant and look like you never had a baby when it's all over. You can make a lot of money as a celebrity if you were once fat but aren't any more. Occasionally Hollywood will give an Oscar, or an Emmy to a "full-figured" woman touting the mantra that women are beautiful at any size, but give them 6 months and Jenny Craig or Weight Watchers will get a hold of them and they'll get 10 times the work and attention because now they are really beautiful. Again, it is so disordered. Why don't we praise women for the tell-tale pooch that tells the world you have given life to an eternal soul? Why don't we pity the perfect bodied 40 year old who only looks that way because she has never known the joy of motherhood? Why does no one envy the breasts of a woman who has let them be stretched and pulled and changed with the life-giving grasp of a babies perfect mouth? We have allowed the Prince of Lies to dictate the standard of Beauty. We have been so indoctrinated and inundated with this lie that we cannot even see the truth as the truth any more.
Eve was created as the zenith of creation. She was God's final, beautiful artistic gesture to say now it is finished; now it is very good. Woman, in any shape and size, is God's most beautiful creation; his masterpiece, so of course the devil is out to destroy it. Not only are we God's masterpiece but we are the link to the expansion and creation of the kingdom of God on earth. He entrusted our bodies, the ones we so often loathe, to the creation of mankind. He entrusted a woman's body to the human creation of his only son.
But why else would the enemy target us so persistently? Think how distracted we are by this issue. Think about all the wasted energy, the fear, the sheer amount of time we spend trying to live up to a fabricated standard of beauty. Would we pray more? serve more? Spend more time making beautiful meals, surrounded by community and family, sitting around a crowded table with happy faces and full tummies without worrying about the number of calories that in each serving? And what about the effect it has on our relationships? We can't accept compliments from our girlfriends and even more damaging we don't believe our husbands when they say they love us the way we are. It creates distance and tension in relationships that would otherwise be edified by accepting the truth. For me, it taints the gift of children because I dread so much the inevitable gaining of weight and the increasingly arduous effort it takes to lose that weight, and we have a culture full of women who will admit they are hesitant to have children because of what it will do to their bodies. We have no perspective of the eternal, our hearts are restless and confused.
Sadly, I can say all these things, and even believe them but that does not win the war that plays out in my head every day. I know not every woman struggles to the same degree, and I marvel at women who seem to accept themselves the way they are, but sadly they are few and far between, and often when I think I have met someone who doesn't struggle with this issue, after getting to know her I discover that she falls prey just like the rest of us.
So what can we do? I think a good start is to speak the truth, to guard our hearts and minds and to pray like crazy that God changes the way we see ourselves, that he redefines what we think to be beautiful, and that he gives us the tools, the wisdom, and the words to hand down to our sons and daughters so that the vicious cycle of lies can be broken. I pray every day that God will guard my daughters (and my sons) from the poor example I set with my constant disquietude concerning my body and that before I form their habits and minds he will order my mind and soul to strive for true beauty, the kind that quiets a spirit, gives life with generosity, shelters and protects, and provides a haven for true gifts and talents to be discovered, to be a reflection of God's indelible beauty, a true masterpiece.
Monday, March 19, 2012
Have You Thanked St Joseph Today?
Today is one of my all-time favorite feast days, the Feast of St. Joseph. Not only does it fall right in the middle of Lent when we are all facing our weaknesses and failures head on every day, thinking about that brownie we can't have or the TV show we said we wouldn't watch, but it also comes on the wings of expected Spring as we imagine new beginnings, the end of the cold dormant winter, and the possibility of all things new.
So aside from eating a big pasta dinner followed by a super non-Lenten dessert what else might we consider on this beautiful day in our liturgical calendar?
St Joseph, or St Joe as we affectionately refer to him in our house, is the patron saint of fathers, workers, carpenters, and social justice not to mention a handful of countries, the Universal Church, and a happy death. He's the go-to guy for everything and everyone. Now if you're new to this whole patron saint thing, or have never really understood why Catholics pray to saints you may be praying for my soul and the soul of my family right now that we will be delivered from idolatry and superstition and find our way back to Christ. I would never ask anyone to stop praying for me and my family but let me assure you it is not idolatry or superstition; it is one of the greatest blessings of our Catholic faith and as a convert it has always been something I really cherish.
Christ conquered death on the cross, and when he did that he erased all power that death holds on all things, including my ability to commune with those who are dead. We are all one in Christ, one in is His body striving for holiness waiting to be in His presence forever. So why wouldn't I ask those closest to him, the ones already worshiping at His feet, to pray for me?` St Joseph is especially close to him and so we go to him a lot.
Today I am especially aware of St Joseph's example as husband and foster-father of Christ and find myself full of gratitude for his influence on my husband's life (my hero of a husband who spent half of last night up with two crying tonsilless boys even though he had to go to work today and have patience for other people's children). Jesus is of course our primary example, but Joseph gives us a picture of an earthly husband and father striving for holiness, living selflessly for his family.
My husband has had a devotion to St Joseph for years now. He found refuge in his example and prayers most especially when I was very sick and he faced all the normal stress as father and provider along with the helplessness that comes with watching someone you love suffer. I saw St. Joseph transform my already impressive husband into a man more like Christ, full of humility and love and more at peace in all the troubling circumstances of life. Having grown up Protestant and still being new to this whole devotion-to-saints thing, it was the first time I witnessed obvious change in someone based on the devotion and influence of a saint. And why wouldn't hours in prayer and conversation with another change us? I am constantly watchful of who my children hang out with, especially our teenage daughter, always listening to see if their influences are positive and good, because the people we spend time with shape us. What a tremendous gift it is to have recourse to the saints! We can literally spend time with St Joseph. We can ask for guidance and insight from the man who in the face of ridicule and loss of his reputation stood by his betrothed and lived in obedience to God in all things and humbly accepted the vocation of raising the Son of God as his own. Parenting is daunting enough but can you imagine thinking it's God's son you are potentially sending to therapy? I have seen his influence and his example soften my husband, make him even more humble and kind, I have seen it bring peace and quiet to his spirit and I have seen him countless times, like Joseph, accept the vocation God has given him in the face of ridicule and misunderstanding as he meekly walks in obedience and fiercely leads our family to heaven. I watch him work tirelessly on our behalf, no job too small, nothing beneath him and accept that work as a gift from God and a chance to make him more like Christ; Our Lord who also knew the toil of the common man, the callouses of hard labor and the joy of work, a virtue he learned by example alongside his earthly father.
So today I thank God for St Joseph and by extension I thank St. Joseph for his friendship to my husband, for his faithfulness to our family and for his prayers on the behalf of fathers and the fatherless. Each year I pray that we will grow in our devotion to Christ and his Saints and not allow ourselves to get lost in the busyness of life so much that we forget the endless resources of the Faithful. What a beautiful reminder that no matter how we feel we can take comfort in the truth that we are never alone, for not only will Christ never leave us or forsake us but all the saints in heaven are waging war for our souls as well.
St Joseph pray for us!
So aside from eating a big pasta dinner followed by a super non-Lenten dessert what else might we consider on this beautiful day in our liturgical calendar?
St Joseph, or St Joe as we affectionately refer to him in our house, is the patron saint of fathers, workers, carpenters, and social justice not to mention a handful of countries, the Universal Church, and a happy death. He's the go-to guy for everything and everyone. Now if you're new to this whole patron saint thing, or have never really understood why Catholics pray to saints you may be praying for my soul and the soul of my family right now that we will be delivered from idolatry and superstition and find our way back to Christ. I would never ask anyone to stop praying for me and my family but let me assure you it is not idolatry or superstition; it is one of the greatest blessings of our Catholic faith and as a convert it has always been something I really cherish.
Christ conquered death on the cross, and when he did that he erased all power that death holds on all things, including my ability to commune with those who are dead. We are all one in Christ, one in is His body striving for holiness waiting to be in His presence forever. So why wouldn't I ask those closest to him, the ones already worshiping at His feet, to pray for me?` St Joseph is especially close to him and so we go to him a lot.
Today I am especially aware of St Joseph's example as husband and foster-father of Christ and find myself full of gratitude for his influence on my husband's life (my hero of a husband who spent half of last night up with two crying tonsilless boys even though he had to go to work today and have patience for other people's children). Jesus is of course our primary example, but Joseph gives us a picture of an earthly husband and father striving for holiness, living selflessly for his family.
My husband has had a devotion to St Joseph for years now. He found refuge in his example and prayers most especially when I was very sick and he faced all the normal stress as father and provider along with the helplessness that comes with watching someone you love suffer. I saw St. Joseph transform my already impressive husband into a man more like Christ, full of humility and love and more at peace in all the troubling circumstances of life. Having grown up Protestant and still being new to this whole devotion-to-saints thing, it was the first time I witnessed obvious change in someone based on the devotion and influence of a saint. And why wouldn't hours in prayer and conversation with another change us? I am constantly watchful of who my children hang out with, especially our teenage daughter, always listening to see if their influences are positive and good, because the people we spend time with shape us. What a tremendous gift it is to have recourse to the saints! We can literally spend time with St Joseph. We can ask for guidance and insight from the man who in the face of ridicule and loss of his reputation stood by his betrothed and lived in obedience to God in all things and humbly accepted the vocation of raising the Son of God as his own. Parenting is daunting enough but can you imagine thinking it's God's son you are potentially sending to therapy? I have seen his influence and his example soften my husband, make him even more humble and kind, I have seen it bring peace and quiet to his spirit and I have seen him countless times, like Joseph, accept the vocation God has given him in the face of ridicule and misunderstanding as he meekly walks in obedience and fiercely leads our family to heaven. I watch him work tirelessly on our behalf, no job too small, nothing beneath him and accept that work as a gift from God and a chance to make him more like Christ; Our Lord who also knew the toil of the common man, the callouses of hard labor and the joy of work, a virtue he learned by example alongside his earthly father.
So today I thank God for St Joseph and by extension I thank St. Joseph for his friendship to my husband, for his faithfulness to our family and for his prayers on the behalf of fathers and the fatherless. Each year I pray that we will grow in our devotion to Christ and his Saints and not allow ourselves to get lost in the busyness of life so much that we forget the endless resources of the Faithful. What a beautiful reminder that no matter how we feel we can take comfort in the truth that we are never alone, for not only will Christ never leave us or forsake us but all the saints in heaven are waging war for our souls as well.
St Joseph pray for us!
Friday, March 9, 2012
Things I Never Thought I'd Say
We've all been there. We are in a heated moment with our children, we're frustrated and tired and dying to just have them obey, or stop arguing and trust you, and the next thing we know the voice of our mother is being channeled through our own mouths and out come the words "because I said so!," or "you'll thank me later," or "that's exactly why I told you that was a bad idea."
But then there are days that I laugh out loud because I cannot believe the things that are coming out of my mouth. I was looking through some old journals the other day and found these lines I had written down for prosperity. These were the days when it was all-littles-all-the-time. Sometimes I really miss these day, but mostly I remember how tired I was all the time. To you moms' in the trenches: you will come out on the other side!
The following are my top 9 favorites of recent memory: (I know it would make more sense if there were 10, but I am too tired to think of any more and I risk just making things up to make you laugh).
9. Please don't climb that tree with scissors in your mouth.
8. No you cannot jump off the bed onto your brother's shoulders.
7. Please don't sit on the baby's head and fart; I don't care if he's laughing there is no way he actually likes it.
6. (To a screaming three year old holding a ruler) Please stop crying, I didn't know you wanted to measure the poop before mommy flushed it down the potty.
5. Yes, it's true when I was growing up there was no such thing as a DVR, and no it was not 66 years ago.
4. (To the three year old riding his bike in front of the house) It's 45 degrees outside where are your pants...and underwear?
3. No you cannot give up your little brother for Lent.
2. Is that peanut butter or poop on the bathroom floor? Oh thank goodness, it's peanut butter!!
Is that peanut butter or poop on the bathroom floor? Oh thank goodness, it's peanut butter!!
Comment and tell us the craziest things to come out of your mouth lately! We know every day is full of surprises!
But then there are days that I laugh out loud because I cannot believe the things that are coming out of my mouth. I was looking through some old journals the other day and found these lines I had written down for prosperity. These were the days when it was all-littles-all-the-time. Sometimes I really miss these day, but mostly I remember how tired I was all the time. To you moms' in the trenches: you will come out on the other side!
The following are my top 9 favorites of recent memory: (I know it would make more sense if there were 10, but I am too tired to think of any more and I risk just making things up to make you laugh).
9. Please don't climb that tree with scissors in your mouth.
8. No you cannot jump off the bed onto your brother's shoulders.
7. Please don't sit on the baby's head and fart; I don't care if he's laughing there is no way he actually likes it.
6. (To a screaming three year old holding a ruler) Please stop crying, I didn't know you wanted to measure the poop before mommy flushed it down the potty.
5. Yes, it's true when I was growing up there was no such thing as a DVR, and no it was not 66 years ago.
4. (To the three year old riding his bike in front of the house) It's 45 degrees outside where are your pants...and underwear?
3. No you cannot give up your little brother for Lent.
2. Is that peanut butter or poop on the bathroom floor? Oh thank goodness, it's peanut butter!!
Is that peanut butter or poop on the bathroom floor? Oh thank goodness, it's peanut butter!!
Comment and tell us the craziest things to come out of your mouth lately! We know every day is full of surprises!
Friday, March 2, 2012
The business of sex and babies
*** I have been working on this post for a couple of days and since starting it the HHS mandate
was upheld in the Senate. Although that is not what this post is really about I feel I must say
that we are called to pray more than ever, regardless of our opinions on birth control or
church teaching, because this is an issue that will certainly threaten the liberty of us all.
There is a lot of talk going around right now about sex and the Church. Granted the conversation is more directly about contraception, abortion, and what I think is the real issue, religious freedom, but it cannot be discussed without people scratching their heads trying to figure out why the Church hates women and sex so much. Clearly, we are an antiquated people, run by a hierarchy of men who have set out to dictate our sexual practices, rob us of our liberty and force us into being overly procreative so that the Church can live on. Or wait, is it just that these old men in funny hats hate sex? Or is it pleasure they hate? No wait it's just women and "choice." I will not get into the political ramifications of this whole HHS debacle but suffice it to say it is a slippery slope when the leader of the free world begins to usurp its citizens of their constitutional rights in the name of "choice," and if gone unchecked it will only be a matter of time before the government is dictating the "acceptable" framework in which a family can be raised not to mention limiting the amount of people we are allowed to create.
I realize that with the issue of birth control Catholics become very isolated in their opinions, and it spawns a myriad of responses from people on all sides. My side is very Catholic and I unapologetically defend the Church's teaching on this matter (something that I know many of my protestant brothers and sisters will not understand). I do not mean to get into the specifics of the teaching at this time, but rather consider briefly and honestly how hard it can be to live by this teaching and that is okay to admit that. The hardship comes not just for the people who don't want kids, or who want to have sex without consequences (although there is a large contingent of people who do not like being told that they just might be selfish) it is bigger than that. For me, and for many people I know, the recent attention on the Church has forced us to ask ourselves if we trust her, if we can wholeheartedly embrace her teaching even in the face of complicated and nuanced situations, and ultimately, do we trust Christ and the authority he gives the Church in our lives?
was upheld in the Senate. Although that is not what this post is really about I feel I must say
that we are called to pray more than ever, regardless of our opinions on birth control or
church teaching, because this is an issue that will certainly threaten the liberty of us all.
There is a lot of talk going around right now about sex and the Church. Granted the conversation is more directly about contraception, abortion, and what I think is the real issue, religious freedom, but it cannot be discussed without people scratching their heads trying to figure out why the Church hates women and sex so much. Clearly, we are an antiquated people, run by a hierarchy of men who have set out to dictate our sexual practices, rob us of our liberty and force us into being overly procreative so that the Church can live on. Or wait, is it just that these old men in funny hats hate sex? Or is it pleasure they hate? No wait it's just women and "choice." I will not get into the political ramifications of this whole HHS debacle but suffice it to say it is a slippery slope when the leader of the free world begins to usurp its citizens of their constitutional rights in the name of "choice," and if gone unchecked it will only be a matter of time before the government is dictating the "acceptable" framework in which a family can be raised not to mention limiting the amount of people we are allowed to create.
All the political ramifications aside, this frantic discussion from every side has lead me to ponder even more deeply the tenants of the faith and ask myself why I agree with Mother Church on these "delicate" issues. Mind you, we consider them particularly delicate because, as a culture, we are fundamentally opposed to the idea that anyone has the right to tell me what is right for me. Catholic or Protestant, Agnostic or Atheist, Muslim or Jew, we are a self indulgent, entitled people and have been conditioned to buck the second someone tells us what to do. We thrive on non-confrontational moral relativism that permeates every area of our affluent American lives.
Even those of us who identify ourselves strongly with our faith often struggle with the ability to speak in absolutes when facing someone who adamantly opposes our world view. This may be because we do not understand our faith well enough to defend it, or it may be because we are so afraid of offending someone that we instinctively pad our comments with this-is-what-works-for-me jargon. However, if we chisel past the superficial arguments and get to the heart of the matter it is a complicated, multi-faceted issue and we all know someone whose circumstances and sufferings make this teaching hard to live.
Even those of us who identify ourselves strongly with our faith often struggle with the ability to speak in absolutes when facing someone who adamantly opposes our world view. This may be because we do not understand our faith well enough to defend it, or it may be because we are so afraid of offending someone that we instinctively pad our comments with this-is-what-works-for-me jargon. However, if we chisel past the superficial arguments and get to the heart of the matter it is a complicated, multi-faceted issue and we all know someone whose circumstances and sufferings make this teaching hard to live.
I realize that with the issue of birth control Catholics become very isolated in their opinions, and it spawns a myriad of responses from people on all sides. My side is very Catholic and I unapologetically defend the Church's teaching on this matter (something that I know many of my protestant brothers and sisters will not understand). I do not mean to get into the specifics of the teaching at this time, but rather consider briefly and honestly how hard it can be to live by this teaching and that is okay to admit that. The hardship comes not just for the people who don't want kids, or who want to have sex without consequences (although there is a large contingent of people who do not like being told that they just might be selfish) it is bigger than that. For me, and for many people I know, the recent attention on the Church has forced us to ask ourselves if we trust her, if we can wholeheartedly embrace her teaching even in the face of complicated and nuanced situations, and ultimately, do we trust Christ and the authority he gives the Church in our lives?
When my husband and I first got married we were an instant family of 3. We had a unique dating life because a sweet five-year-old girl had always been a part of it (she even went on our first date with us!). We were excited to have more children right away and were surprised and blessed by how quickly I became pregnant. Eight months after our first son was born I found myself pregnant again and although I shed a tear or two when that plus sign turned up on the stick I was thrilled and ready to face the challenge. My response was also not without hubris, considering how open to life we looked, how Catholic we were. I cringe to think of the times I judged others for the size of their family before I really understood the countless circumstances and considerations that go into family planning, not to mention all the things that go unseen and unsaid like infertility and miscarriage. It wasn't until I got very sick after our second son was born that NFP and the teaching of contraception became very personal and real. I found myself 4 months post partum and bed-ridden, and this went on for 15 months. The severity of my illness would ebb and flow a bit but it was clearly not the time to have another baby. I struggled with guilt that I wasn't being "open to life" because my husband and I were very carefully using NFP to the point where we sometimes felt like we were living a celibate marriage. Thankfully, we were able to learn about and understand my cycle and return to a normal and stress-free sex life without feeling guilty for not having more babies right away. I remember finding comfort in Blessed John Paul II's words:
Unfortunately, Catholic thought is often misunderstood ... as if the Church supported an ideology of fertility at all costs, urging married couples to procreate indiscriminately and without thought for the future. But one need only study the pronouncements of the Magisterium to know that this is not so.
Truly, in begetting life the spouses fulfill one of the highest dimensions of their calling: they are God’s co-workers. Precisely for this reason they must have an extremely responsible attitude. In deciding whether or not to have a child, they must not be motivated by selfishness or carelessness, but by a prudent, conscious generosity that weighs the possibilities and circumstances, and especially gives priority to the welfare of the unborn child. Therefore, when there is a reason not to procreate, this choice is permissible and may even be necessary. (emphasis mine)---1994 Castel Gondolfo
This is the first thing that I think is often lost in the discussion of the Church's position on family planning. There is a huge misunderstanding that we Catholics just have babies because we have to, because if we don't we'll go to hell, or be seen as selfish, and unfortunately we often make one another feel that way! Some of us are called to have large families and some of us are not. The church offers us an alternative to a family of 15 children and recognizes that not everyone is called to that and Natural Family Planning is it's loving gift.
I do believe that; that NFP is a loving beautiful gift, that God made the female body to operate in such a way that we can predict fertility and we can live within the cyclical nature of that fertility and live happy, fulfilled lives and marriages. I also know that it's just not always that easy. Our bodies were made to be predictable and our fertility cyclical yet ironically the act of child-bearing and birth alters those patterns and it can take months or years for those patterns to be predictable again. There are woman whose cycles are super predictable and obvious and as long as they chart they can abstain 5-7 days a month and be a-okay. Then there's the rest of us!
Without digressing too much, let me just say that for most people NFPing is not easy and not always simple and certainly not without anxiety and stress. I am there now. Eight months post partum with irregular cycles and paralyzed by the fear of getting pregnant again. Surely that is not what God wants...right!? We are a family of 8, living in a 2 bedroom house, on a teacher's salary. Believe me, the whole world is telling us to take a break! But this is where the gift and mystery of fertility meets the supremacy of our will and the injustice of a fallen and sinful world. This is where it gets tricky; this is when we want to believe that God would not judge us for contracepting.
Yes, we serve a Providential God, but he gives us a will and the ability to make powerful, life-giving decisions. He is also merciful and loving and forgiving and for the couple who feels no other choice but to use birth control I truly sympathize and I know that there is compassion and mercy in the arms of God. It is not an unpardonable sin; it is another way in which God is calling us to love and trust Him in a way that sometimes feels impossible; it is another path to holiness. Do not judge the person you know using birth control pray for them that they would see that God has something better in mind, something that opens them up to a greater understanding of His love and prepares them for heaven.
And yet, the Church is unmistakably clear on this issue, regardless of what many people are saying. And although I find myself wanting to argue the reasons and simultaneously wrestling with those reasons on a personal level I am left with one thing: I trust the Church. I know it sounds a bit cliche, and perhaps over simplified, but I trust 2000 plus years of tradition and I trust the men in funny hats who have dedicated their lives to listening to the Holy Spirit and standing in opposition to a world that hates life and assigns value according to usefulness. At the end of the day I would rather err on the side of life, on the side of the Church.
Granted, if I were to find myself pregnant any time soon I would throw a huge fit, spiral into a place of self doubt and anger, all the while wrestling with the idea of God's supreme goodness. And then I would open my heart and arms and have new baby, and would be scary and wonderful and hard. I trust that this is really what Christ is asking of us, and that he is aware of all the hardship and struggle it brings with it. I also have to remember that sometimes we are just called to obey, and we have to be careful not to blame God for the injustices of the world that are a result of a fallen world, not an incomplete or unloving God. Fertility can be a cruel, dichotomous bitch. Good, godly, people who would welcome a fleet of children suffocate with the pain of infertility while a teenage crack-head abandons a baby in trash can. You can lose yourself and your faith in the injustice of it all, but Christ beckons us to lose ourselves in the reality of His unchanging love instead. We have to remember that he is a loving Father and that he is never cruel, and just as our children often do not see the reason behind our requirements and kick and scream when we hold them to it, we too are often waiting for the scales to fall from our eyes so that we can truly see.
None of the "rules" of our faith are there for any other reason than for our good. Sometimes we just have to stop kicking and screaming long enough to give the Holy Spirit the ability to make the way of Christ clear. It doesn't mean we'll like it, or that it will be easy but we just might find some peace, and hopefully we will find our way to heaven where we will see all things clearly.
Without digressing too much, let me just say that for most people NFPing is not easy and not always simple and certainly not without anxiety and stress. I am there now. Eight months post partum with irregular cycles and paralyzed by the fear of getting pregnant again. Surely that is not what God wants...right!? We are a family of 8, living in a 2 bedroom house, on a teacher's salary. Believe me, the whole world is telling us to take a break! But this is where the gift and mystery of fertility meets the supremacy of our will and the injustice of a fallen and sinful world. This is where it gets tricky; this is when we want to believe that God would not judge us for contracepting.
Yes, we serve a Providential God, but he gives us a will and the ability to make powerful, life-giving decisions. He is also merciful and loving and forgiving and for the couple who feels no other choice but to use birth control I truly sympathize and I know that there is compassion and mercy in the arms of God. It is not an unpardonable sin; it is another way in which God is calling us to love and trust Him in a way that sometimes feels impossible; it is another path to holiness. Do not judge the person you know using birth control pray for them that they would see that God has something better in mind, something that opens them up to a greater understanding of His love and prepares them for heaven.
And yet, the Church is unmistakably clear on this issue, regardless of what many people are saying. And although I find myself wanting to argue the reasons and simultaneously wrestling with those reasons on a personal level I am left with one thing: I trust the Church. I know it sounds a bit cliche, and perhaps over simplified, but I trust 2000 plus years of tradition and I trust the men in funny hats who have dedicated their lives to listening to the Holy Spirit and standing in opposition to a world that hates life and assigns value according to usefulness. At the end of the day I would rather err on the side of life, on the side of the Church.
Granted, if I were to find myself pregnant any time soon I would throw a huge fit, spiral into a place of self doubt and anger, all the while wrestling with the idea of God's supreme goodness. And then I would open my heart and arms and have new baby, and would be scary and wonderful and hard. I trust that this is really what Christ is asking of us, and that he is aware of all the hardship and struggle it brings with it. I also have to remember that sometimes we are just called to obey, and we have to be careful not to blame God for the injustices of the world that are a result of a fallen world, not an incomplete or unloving God. Fertility can be a cruel, dichotomous bitch. Good, godly, people who would welcome a fleet of children suffocate with the pain of infertility while a teenage crack-head abandons a baby in trash can. You can lose yourself and your faith in the injustice of it all, but Christ beckons us to lose ourselves in the reality of His unchanging love instead. We have to remember that he is a loving Father and that he is never cruel, and just as our children often do not see the reason behind our requirements and kick and scream when we hold them to it, we too are often waiting for the scales to fall from our eyes so that we can truly see.
None of the "rules" of our faith are there for any other reason than for our good. Sometimes we just have to stop kicking and screaming long enough to give the Holy Spirit the ability to make the way of Christ clear. It doesn't mean we'll like it, or that it will be easy but we just might find some peace, and hopefully we will find our way to heaven where we will see all things clearly.
Saturday, February 18, 2012
Unnatural Birth
My beautiful sister-in-law just had a baby girl, and of my nine nieces and nephews this is the first one I have been able to see the day she was born. No matter how many babies I have, or how many babies I hold, there is just nothing like a brand new, out-of-the-womb baby! It is always so amazing to me that just hours before they were inside a person and now they are tightly swaddled in that pink and blue striped blanket with no idea what the hell is going and no idea why they can't be back inside a person, and yet they quietly (or not so quietly) breathe in and out, ushered permanently into this new world, knowing no one but their mother.
But being in the recovery room just hours after my sister-in-law had given birth I was so taken aback by how incredible she looked, how happy and coherent, and beautifully exhausted. I have always had to have c-sections, something I have always hated, but seeing a woman less than two hours after doing it the good ol' fashioned way, my envy grew exponentially. She didn't have a catheter robbing her of another small portion of her dignity, or an IV pumping endless bags of saline into her rapidly swelling body, she could feel her legs and move them, she could sit up and hold the baby with ease and no one was asking her if she had passed gas yet, so that in 12 more hours they could give her something to eat. What a way to have a baby!
Don't misunderstand me, I know she did all her hard work before I saw her. She had to discern when labor was happening, she had to get herself to the hospital and endure hours and hours of painful contractions, and wait and wait and wait for that sweet baby girl to make her appearance, and not before she pushed her out of a seemingly impossible place.
None if it is easy, but seeing her did remind me of some of the things I felt when I had to have my first c-section, and I know that an unexpected c-section comes with a myriad of reactions. The following reflection is an adaptation of a letter I wrote to a friend after she had an unexpected c-section and was drowning in the feelings of failure and regret that often follow:
I was devastated when I ended up with a c-section. I felt angry and robbed of a genuine child-birth experience. I felt like less of a mother and on top of that I hated the pain of recovery so much that it just made it all worse. Before I had even begun to enjoy my perfect baby (who was struggling for breath in the NICU) I was anxious about the next birth and the possibility of subsequent c-sections. I played the events of his birth over and over again in my mind for weeks. Was it really necessary? Should I have advocated more strongly for myself? In retrospect I realize that these questions were ridiculous because had I not "allowed" a c-section I would not have my wonderful, smart, witty seven-year-old son. In my circumstances an emergency c-section saved my baby's life and I am eternally grateful for my doctor's discernment and execution of the surgery that gave me a healthy baby. Still, it took me months to stop regretting that it had happened, and when I had to have a second c-section, thus sealing my fate to always have them I went through the grieving process all over again.
I wasted so much time obsessing over my next birth before I had even held my new baby! To anyone recovering from a regretted c-section: do not obsess over the next baby or the next delivery. Enjoy the baby you just had! You are a mess of hormones and recovery pain and huge boobs and sore nipples and sleep-deprived brain. You will have plenty of time to talk to your doctor or midwife and examine your possibilities for the next baby (and just for the record I know SO many women who have had successful VBAC's). For now try to enjoy the little one as much as possible and every time you start to feel like less of a mother because you didn't push him out of your lady parts just tell Satan to get behind you and kiss your baby a few extra times!
Five c-sections and five healthy babies later I have finally realized how insignificant the way they are born really is. It certainly can be a natural and beautiful experience and often medical intervention is completely unnecessary but at the end of the day the only the thing that really matters is that we get to take our babies home. Many of the women I know have had natural births, even in water, with mid-wives and no pain killers, in a quiet room, praying the rosary while the baby comes out (well maybe not that quietly, but still pretty different then my experiences). This is how I always imagined my births would be. As disappointed as I was with my first c-section I remember looking at him in the NICU, fighting to breathe and realizing that I didn't care how he came out I just wanted to take him home.
I have had friends lose babies because they weren't close enough to a hospital, and I have friends lose babies after doctors did everything they could to save them. I have had friends see their lives change in an instant when they realized the baby they have loved and imagined for 9 months will have disabilities they never imagined and may not even live to celebrate their first birthday. The more I am around the business of birth and labor the more I realize that it is all such a monumental gift, one we do not deserve, and one that is not cheapened in any way by the course in which it takes to get to us: midwife, doctor, in a bed, in water, naturally, with an epidural, c-section or adoption. It is all a beautiful, inexplicable, unwarranted gift.
There is so much hubris and opinion surrounding the business of labor, when really the miracle is the baby, the LIFE. One thing I think we would all be wise to remember is that it is not a moral issue. Just like nursing/formula, or co-sleeping/scheduling isn't a moral issue and yet people bombard new moms with these preferences like it involves the salvation of their souls. Some are preferences, some are choices we make that surprise us, and some are things completely out of our control. My advice to a mom struggling after a c-section: don't waste time wondering if you "fought" hard enough for a natural birth, just allow God to heal you physically and emotionally so you can move on and be the best mother you can be to the child he's given you.
Looking at my sister-in-law and her perfect baby girl made me a little jealous of her birth experience, but mostly it reminded me of how grateful I am to be a mom; how amazing it is that God lets us participate in the giving of life and the forming of souls, and that these tiny creatures are people placed in our care for just a short time with a purpose and destiny that goes far beyond the moment of their birth.
But being in the recovery room just hours after my sister-in-law had given birth I was so taken aback by how incredible she looked, how happy and coherent, and beautifully exhausted. I have always had to have c-sections, something I have always hated, but seeing a woman less than two hours after doing it the good ol' fashioned way, my envy grew exponentially. She didn't have a catheter robbing her of another small portion of her dignity, or an IV pumping endless bags of saline into her rapidly swelling body, she could feel her legs and move them, she could sit up and hold the baby with ease and no one was asking her if she had passed gas yet, so that in 12 more hours they could give her something to eat. What a way to have a baby!
Don't misunderstand me, I know she did all her hard work before I saw her. She had to discern when labor was happening, she had to get herself to the hospital and endure hours and hours of painful contractions, and wait and wait and wait for that sweet baby girl to make her appearance, and not before she pushed her out of a seemingly impossible place.
None if it is easy, but seeing her did remind me of some of the things I felt when I had to have my first c-section, and I know that an unexpected c-section comes with a myriad of reactions. The following reflection is an adaptation of a letter I wrote to a friend after she had an unexpected c-section and was drowning in the feelings of failure and regret that often follow:
I was devastated when I ended up with a c-section. I felt angry and robbed of a genuine child-birth experience. I felt like less of a mother and on top of that I hated the pain of recovery so much that it just made it all worse. Before I had even begun to enjoy my perfect baby (who was struggling for breath in the NICU) I was anxious about the next birth and the possibility of subsequent c-sections. I played the events of his birth over and over again in my mind for weeks. Was it really necessary? Should I have advocated more strongly for myself? In retrospect I realize that these questions were ridiculous because had I not "allowed" a c-section I would not have my wonderful, smart, witty seven-year-old son. In my circumstances an emergency c-section saved my baby's life and I am eternally grateful for my doctor's discernment and execution of the surgery that gave me a healthy baby. Still, it took me months to stop regretting that it had happened, and when I had to have a second c-section, thus sealing my fate to always have them I went through the grieving process all over again.
I wasted so much time obsessing over my next birth before I had even held my new baby! To anyone recovering from a regretted c-section: do not obsess over the next baby or the next delivery. Enjoy the baby you just had! You are a mess of hormones and recovery pain and huge boobs and sore nipples and sleep-deprived brain. You will have plenty of time to talk to your doctor or midwife and examine your possibilities for the next baby (and just for the record I know SO many women who have had successful VBAC's). For now try to enjoy the little one as much as possible and every time you start to feel like less of a mother because you didn't push him out of your lady parts just tell Satan to get behind you and kiss your baby a few extra times!
Five c-sections and five healthy babies later I have finally realized how insignificant the way they are born really is. It certainly can be a natural and beautiful experience and often medical intervention is completely unnecessary but at the end of the day the only the thing that really matters is that we get to take our babies home. Many of the women I know have had natural births, even in water, with mid-wives and no pain killers, in a quiet room, praying the rosary while the baby comes out (well maybe not that quietly, but still pretty different then my experiences). This is how I always imagined my births would be. As disappointed as I was with my first c-section I remember looking at him in the NICU, fighting to breathe and realizing that I didn't care how he came out I just wanted to take him home.
I have had friends lose babies because they weren't close enough to a hospital, and I have friends lose babies after doctors did everything they could to save them. I have had friends see their lives change in an instant when they realized the baby they have loved and imagined for 9 months will have disabilities they never imagined and may not even live to celebrate their first birthday. The more I am around the business of birth and labor the more I realize that it is all such a monumental gift, one we do not deserve, and one that is not cheapened in any way by the course in which it takes to get to us: midwife, doctor, in a bed, in water, naturally, with an epidural, c-section or adoption. It is all a beautiful, inexplicable, unwarranted gift.
There is so much hubris and opinion surrounding the business of labor, when really the miracle is the baby, the LIFE. One thing I think we would all be wise to remember is that it is not a moral issue. Just like nursing/formula, or co-sleeping/scheduling isn't a moral issue and yet people bombard new moms with these preferences like it involves the salvation of their souls. Some are preferences, some are choices we make that surprise us, and some are things completely out of our control. My advice to a mom struggling after a c-section: don't waste time wondering if you "fought" hard enough for a natural birth, just allow God to heal you physically and emotionally so you can move on and be the best mother you can be to the child he's given you.
Looking at my sister-in-law and her perfect baby girl made me a little jealous of her birth experience, but mostly it reminded me of how grateful I am to be a mom; how amazing it is that God lets us participate in the giving of life and the forming of souls, and that these tiny creatures are people placed in our care for just a short time with a purpose and destiny that goes far beyond the moment of their birth.
Friday, February 3, 2012
Selflessness: Not a Popular Choice
It has been one of those weeks (or maybe months) where it just feels like one onslaught after another. I start to gain some momentum, get on top of things and before I can enjoy the quiet, or the clean, or the money in the bank a tornado of life comes through and leaves noise, dirt, and need in its wake.
Our days around here are never easy. Anyone with kids, whether you have one or ten, knows that most days are not your own. My husband usually starts his day trying, in vain, to pray in the quiet before the real chaos starts but he usually ends up reading his Bible with a fussy baby on his knee, or a hungry three-year- old at his feet, until the poopy two-year-old stumbles in asking for water; and this is all before 6:00 a.m.
Sometimes I feel guilty for how hard it is; like I am not taking in the moment enough (you know, all these perfect toddler moments that people are constantly telling me I am going to miss one day), like it's my fault it's hard because I just have the wrong attitude.
Sometimes that's true; sometimes I do just need a major attitude adjustment. But most of the time it's just hard. Life is full of struggle, a tapestry woven with laughter and grief, joy and sorrow, peace and anxiety, success and failure. The world is constantly reminding me that we didn't have to have so many kids, and I'd be lying if I said I don't sometimes remember with great fondness the simplicity of having two or three, but then I remember that that was super hard too. It's all about perspective. And every day I have to remind myself why we do it. Because it has nothing to do with me.
But then there's days like today, when I start out thinking it's the normal amount of hard, squeaking by until the next pay check, but making it, dealing with the dirt and the clutter, and the fatigue. And then I find out that two of my kids need their tonsils and adenoids out, and we have to pay up front, and no we shouldn't put it off too long; and of course I didn't think to look into all this when the deductible was met in June. So just when we thought we could (maybe) go a year without meeting the deductible (i.e. go a year without having a baby) we will probably meet it in March. Oh, and they want us to pay up front (?!). Then I look at my house and the laundry seems dirtier, the floor a new kind of filthy, dinner an unbelievable obstacle in both thought and deed and I can't decide if I should cry or eat the entire tray of brownies my dear friend just gave me in honor of the Feast of the Presentation.
Then the holy spirit whispers a gentle reminder; "think of the presentation of Our Lord, think of the purification at the temple. All you can do is bring Him what you have; make an offering and He will bless it." Even if you aren't quite sure about all this holiness talk, if you have kids you are intimately familiar with the act of offering up yourself, everyday, all day long. Having a family requires selflessness, that's why our culture hates children so much. That's why you're supposed to stop at a respectable number, so you can get your life back. But I have discovered, since I am so inept at doing this myself, so bad at putting myself last, that if I present it ALL to God, the good, the bad, and the ugly he responds with His life.
Mary didn't have to bring Jesus to the Temple, she knew he was without sin. She didn't need purification because she too was without sin. But she humbly did all that was expected of her and all that the law required of her for this child that was Man and God. We are reminded of the beauty of being reminded of our nothingness, our unworthiness, our need for purification and redemption. Mary was poor. All she and Joseph could bring were two small birds, not a lamb or a goat, and yet that was all God required of them even for the presentation of His only Son.
So what is he asking of me? What is he asking of us? To bring what we have, all we have, especially when it doesn't feel like enough, especially when it feels like nothing at all. I can bring my bad attitude, my self-pity, my frustration, my empty pockets, my dirty house, my children's souls and futures, my marriage and all the weight of this life and I can offer it up. And I can bring the beautiful, unbelievable gifts and blessings, the really good days, the joy and laughter, the health and happiness. I can bring it all:
I can give Him this smile,
And this soul,
And their future,
And their health,
And I can remember that none of it is really mine to give anyway since all of this is just a gift, given by the One who knows me best, given to purify, and refine, and bless.
I am not at all sure about what God has in mind for us right now; I don't know why it sometimes has to be so hard. But I do know that he always gives us what we need; usually nothing extra, but always what we need. I know that our children are not part of the burden but the biggest part of the blessing (even if we do have to spend $5,000 to get some tonsils cut out) and I know that if I look anywhere but Christ and His Church for answers I will only get lost in the impossibility of it all. At least that's how I feel today. But I have been at this long enough to know that sometimes the sun sets and a new day dawns and without explanation everything looks a little better and it's not quite as hard as it was the day before.
Our days around here are never easy. Anyone with kids, whether you have one or ten, knows that most days are not your own. My husband usually starts his day trying, in vain, to pray in the quiet before the real chaos starts but he usually ends up reading his Bible with a fussy baby on his knee, or a hungry three-year- old at his feet, until the poopy two-year-old stumbles in asking for water; and this is all before 6:00 a.m.
Sometimes I feel guilty for how hard it is; like I am not taking in the moment enough (you know, all these perfect toddler moments that people are constantly telling me I am going to miss one day), like it's my fault it's hard because I just have the wrong attitude.
Sometimes that's true; sometimes I do just need a major attitude adjustment. But most of the time it's just hard. Life is full of struggle, a tapestry woven with laughter and grief, joy and sorrow, peace and anxiety, success and failure. The world is constantly reminding me that we didn't have to have so many kids, and I'd be lying if I said I don't sometimes remember with great fondness the simplicity of having two or three, but then I remember that that was super hard too. It's all about perspective. And every day I have to remind myself why we do it. Because it has nothing to do with me.
But then there's days like today, when I start out thinking it's the normal amount of hard, squeaking by until the next pay check, but making it, dealing with the dirt and the clutter, and the fatigue. And then I find out that two of my kids need their tonsils and adenoids out, and we have to pay up front, and no we shouldn't put it off too long; and of course I didn't think to look into all this when the deductible was met in June. So just when we thought we could (maybe) go a year without meeting the deductible (i.e. go a year without having a baby) we will probably meet it in March. Oh, and they want us to pay up front (?!). Then I look at my house and the laundry seems dirtier, the floor a new kind of filthy, dinner an unbelievable obstacle in both thought and deed and I can't decide if I should cry or eat the entire tray of brownies my dear friend just gave me in honor of the Feast of the Presentation.
Then the holy spirit whispers a gentle reminder; "think of the presentation of Our Lord, think of the purification at the temple. All you can do is bring Him what you have; make an offering and He will bless it." Even if you aren't quite sure about all this holiness talk, if you have kids you are intimately familiar with the act of offering up yourself, everyday, all day long. Having a family requires selflessness, that's why our culture hates children so much. That's why you're supposed to stop at a respectable number, so you can get your life back. But I have discovered, since I am so inept at doing this myself, so bad at putting myself last, that if I present it ALL to God, the good, the bad, and the ugly he responds with His life.
Mary didn't have to bring Jesus to the Temple, she knew he was without sin. She didn't need purification because she too was without sin. But she humbly did all that was expected of her and all that the law required of her for this child that was Man and God. We are reminded of the beauty of being reminded of our nothingness, our unworthiness, our need for purification and redemption. Mary was poor. All she and Joseph could bring were two small birds, not a lamb or a goat, and yet that was all God required of them even for the presentation of His only Son.
So what is he asking of me? What is he asking of us? To bring what we have, all we have, especially when it doesn't feel like enough, especially when it feels like nothing at all. I can bring my bad attitude, my self-pity, my frustration, my empty pockets, my dirty house, my children's souls and futures, my marriage and all the weight of this life and I can offer it up. And I can bring the beautiful, unbelievable gifts and blessings, the really good days, the joy and laughter, the health and happiness. I can bring it all:
I can give Him this smile,
And this soul,
And their future,
And their health,
And I can remember that none of it is really mine to give anyway since all of this is just a gift, given by the One who knows me best, given to purify, and refine, and bless.
I am not at all sure about what God has in mind for us right now; I don't know why it sometimes has to be so hard. But I do know that he always gives us what we need; usually nothing extra, but always what we need. I know that our children are not part of the burden but the biggest part of the blessing (even if we do have to spend $5,000 to get some tonsils cut out) and I know that if I look anywhere but Christ and His Church for answers I will only get lost in the impossibility of it all. At least that's how I feel today. But I have been at this long enough to know that sometimes the sun sets and a new day dawns and without explanation everything looks a little better and it's not quite as hard as it was the day before.
Saturday, January 28, 2012
Sleep, who needs it?
My youngest baby is 7 months old. Usually, by this time my babies are sleeping soundly through the night (something that has always annoyed many of my friends). But this little guy just doesn't want to sleep more than 3 or 4 ours at a time! I think there are a combination of factors contributing to our little problem: I haven't been as diligent scheduling him as I was with the others and allow him to nurse all the time; we are so much busier than we have ever been; the 8 of us live in a two-bedroom house and by default he is still our roommate. Or maybe he doesn't think he gets enough attention during the day so he figures if he keeps me up at night we'll get more quality time (not a bad survival technique for a sixth man).
After more than a week of waking up every 2 or 3 hours I found myself less than cheerful. That's actually a huge understatement, I have been grumpy and mean and depressed, unmotivated and overwhelmed. I started thinking postpartum depression was hitting me really late, next I convinced myself I was pregnant again, which I of course obsessed about until 2 pregnancy tests assured me that was not the case. Then I had a night where I got 7 glorious uninterrupted hours of sleep! Suddenly, the world was a better place, I was kind again, everything looked better, sounded better, smelled better!
This got me thinking: Everything is better when you are sleeping; allow me to give a few examples:
Screaming Toddlers Fighting Over Every. Little. Thing.
With Sleep: You gently diffuse the situation, distract, encourage or join in the play and quietly teach them to play together. It drives you crazy but you find yourself praying through the frustration and getting past the moment.
Without Sleep: You unsuccessfully resist the urge to join in the yelling; you rip toys out of hands and threaten to throw every toy they own in the trash, or you lock yourself in the bathroom just to gain enough composure to go back and deal with the situation in a way that will not inspire your neighbors to call CPS.
Dirty Dishes, Piles of Laundry, Dirty Floors
With Sleep: You tackle a little at a time throughout the day, finding you have energy to approach each task with cheerfulness, and can even leave a few tasks undone in order to play with the children. You come up with games to get the kids involved and at the end of the night it doesn't look so bad; it's not clean but it's livable.
Without Sleep: You cuss at your husband in your head for not helping you more (even though you know he helps a lot); you scrutinize over every piece of laundry convinced that your kids threw it in the hamper without even wearing it; you feel like a complete failure and convince yourself that your kids will grow up needing countless hours of therapy, and be clinically diagnosed with OCD as a reaction to what a pig sty their house was growing up.
Natural Family Planning (Your Sex Life)
With Sleep: You thank God for the beautiful gift of marital love; you marvel at how kind and good it is of God to give you a cycle you can track and you feel optimism when you think about your future with all the kids God wants to give you. You find you don't recoil when your husband touches you, and you think about how much better sex gets the longer you are married.
Without Sleep: You get dressed as fast as possible, in the bathroom or closet, making sure your husband doesn't see you naked because even though you can't imagine he could find you attractive right now you're pretty sure he would want to have sex if he saw you. Your husband looks at you with that familiar glance and you want to scream "you want part of me too! All I want is to watch TV or read a book without someone needing something from me for five minutes!" You can't make heads or tails of your stupid cycle and you cry thinking about the possibility of having another baby and resolve that the only sure way to avoid this is to never have sex again.
After more than a week of waking up every 2 or 3 hours I found myself less than cheerful. That's actually a huge understatement, I have been grumpy and mean and depressed, unmotivated and overwhelmed. I started thinking postpartum depression was hitting me really late, next I convinced myself I was pregnant again, which I of course obsessed about until 2 pregnancy tests assured me that was not the case. Then I had a night where I got 7 glorious uninterrupted hours of sleep! Suddenly, the world was a better place, I was kind again, everything looked better, sounded better, smelled better!
This got me thinking: Everything is better when you are sleeping; allow me to give a few examples:
Screaming Toddlers Fighting Over Every. Little. Thing.
With Sleep: You gently diffuse the situation, distract, encourage or join in the play and quietly teach them to play together. It drives you crazy but you find yourself praying through the frustration and getting past the moment.
Without Sleep: You unsuccessfully resist the urge to join in the yelling; you rip toys out of hands and threaten to throw every toy they own in the trash, or you lock yourself in the bathroom just to gain enough composure to go back and deal with the situation in a way that will not inspire your neighbors to call CPS.
Dirty Dishes, Piles of Laundry, Dirty Floors
With Sleep: You tackle a little at a time throughout the day, finding you have energy to approach each task with cheerfulness, and can even leave a few tasks undone in order to play with the children. You come up with games to get the kids involved and at the end of the night it doesn't look so bad; it's not clean but it's livable.
Without Sleep: You cuss at your husband in your head for not helping you more (even though you know he helps a lot); you scrutinize over every piece of laundry convinced that your kids threw it in the hamper without even wearing it; you feel like a complete failure and convince yourself that your kids will grow up needing countless hours of therapy, and be clinically diagnosed with OCD as a reaction to what a pig sty their house was growing up.
Natural Family Planning (Your Sex Life)
With Sleep: You thank God for the beautiful gift of marital love; you marvel at how kind and good it is of God to give you a cycle you can track and you feel optimism when you think about your future with all the kids God wants to give you. You find you don't recoil when your husband touches you, and you think about how much better sex gets the longer you are married.
Without Sleep: You get dressed as fast as possible, in the bathroom or closet, making sure your husband doesn't see you naked because even though you can't imagine he could find you attractive right now you're pretty sure he would want to have sex if he saw you. Your husband looks at you with that familiar glance and you want to scream "you want part of me too! All I want is to watch TV or read a book without someone needing something from me for five minutes!" You can't make heads or tails of your stupid cycle and you cry thinking about the possibility of having another baby and resolve that the only sure way to avoid this is to never have sex again.
Body Image
With Sleep: You're never completely happy with the way you look, but you feel good about the progress you're making losing the baby weight, or maintaining the weight you are. You are making good food choices and working out and you figure you're doing your best and your'e grateful for your health. You look at your stomach knowing it will never again regain it's former glory but thank God that your children are the reason it looks the way it does, and you know it was totally worth it.
Without Sleep: You cry every time you have to put something on that doesn't have an elastic waist and imagine how much happier you were before these little creatures completely destroyed your body (even though you know all you could think about was how much happier marriage and family would make you and you didn't care if it meant you couldn't be skinny anymore). You figure you're going to be fat forever, and will probably just get pregnant again in 5 minutes so you might as well eat that third brownie, or make the really cheesy enchiladas for dinner again because somehow the smell of them in your kitchen makes you feel better. You compare yourself to every other woman you know and convince yourself that you are the only one who really needs to lose weight and that God must hate you because you have the metabolism of an 80 year old.
I think I've made my point. So for all the sleep deprived mothers out there, know you are not alone and for God's sake go take a nap!
Monday, January 23, 2012
Top 10 Unexpected Joys of Motherhood
I am working on a more cerebral post that I just can't quite get a handle on (probably because my brain really doesn't work like it used to) so in the mean time I thought I would write a quick list of the most unexpected Joys of Motherhood.
I knew children would bring me joy but in my ideal pre-mother mind I imagined it would come in very different ways. Really I just underestimated all the little things so, here are ten things my children do (and I am sure there are more but that would require more thinking) that make me surprisingly grateful and happy to be a mom:
10. Laughing at things that are genuinely funny: I love making people laugh, but my wit is a bit sarcastic and not exactly child-friendly all the time. Now that some of my kids are getting older I love it when we have a genuine hard laugh, especially if I say something funny and they get it (don't worry, I save all the inappropriate humor for my husband). Even better is seeing them develop their own sense of humor and making ME laugh. Joy.
9. Hearing the children play nicely together even when they think I am not listening: I don't have to tell you how frustrating it is when all they do is fight, fight, fight but when they stop and actually enjoy one another's company, there is nothing like it! It's even better when they imagine together and create kingdoms and have Star Wars battles in their room, all without my help! Joy.
8. Seeing them stick up for each other: The other day my three year old and two year old were playing with a friend. The other little boy came and took something away from Sophia (2), and Thomas (3) marched right over and said "you don't take that fwom my sista." He of course applied inappropriate force to get it back but then triumphantly headed right over to his little sister gave her the toy, hugged her and said "here you go Phia." Sometimes when we are out grocery shopping he holds her hand in the parking lot and gently says "no walk in cars Phia."....Uh, sweet Joy!
7. Seeing them pray for real: Even before I had my own kids there was something beautiful about seeing a child pray. But there is something inexplicably wonderful about seeing your own child talk to God, or tell you with unabashed trust and joy that he will "just pray about it" or that he did pray about it and God answered him. Hearing their little voices say the Rosary makes me tear up, every time. Beautiful Joy.
6. Seeing them eat vegetables: It sounds so simple, but who knew that watching a child consume broccoli without puking could make you so happy! Any meal that doesn't involve screaming and gagging is my favorite meal. Healthy joy.
5. Learning to put their shoes on by themselves and buckle their own seat belt: These skills will change your life! When you can say "it's time to go, please get your shoes on" and they can DO it! Wonderful, beautiful joy! And when you don't have to wade through the crushed goldfish and empty molding juice cups in the car to get their seat belt on, you will start getting places 2 minutes earlier! Ah, efficient joy.
4. When they start thinking of others: This only started recently for us with our little ones. But it is such a beautiful thing when they begin to discover that they are not the only person on earth, when they start to listen to other peoples needs and respond in love. A few weeks ago I was sitting on the couch after dinner, folding laundry. I was talking to my husband and said "my head hurts, I don't think I had enough water after I worked out today." The next thing I knew my sweet Alexander (7) had climbed up on the counter, gotten a glass, filled it with water and was bringing it to me. Pure Joy!
3. When they make each other laugh: When my two year old gets in the baby's face and makes a bunch of inexplicable sounds and pets his head and he proceeds to laugh harder and louder then he does for anyone else, because he seems to really know what she's talking about. Joy.
2. Seeing them love books: One of my favorite things is when a toddler brings me a book, forces themselves into my lap and says "read this mommy." It is even better when they get older, find a book, cozy up in a chair and read to themselves!. Beautiful Joy.
And the number ONE most unexpected source of joy....
When a toddler stops what he is doing, goes into the bathroom, pulls his pants down by himself, and put his big stinky shadoobey in the toilet where it belongs! Unspeakable, priceless, unending JOY!
What are some of your unexpected pleasures of parenting? It's always good for us to remind each other of the little things because the rest of it is just so easy to complain about!
I knew children would bring me joy but in my ideal pre-mother mind I imagined it would come in very different ways. Really I just underestimated all the little things so, here are ten things my children do (and I am sure there are more but that would require more thinking) that make me surprisingly grateful and happy to be a mom:
10. Laughing at things that are genuinely funny: I love making people laugh, but my wit is a bit sarcastic and not exactly child-friendly all the time. Now that some of my kids are getting older I love it when we have a genuine hard laugh, especially if I say something funny and they get it (don't worry, I save all the inappropriate humor for my husband). Even better is seeing them develop their own sense of humor and making ME laugh. Joy.
9. Hearing the children play nicely together even when they think I am not listening: I don't have to tell you how frustrating it is when all they do is fight, fight, fight but when they stop and actually enjoy one another's company, there is nothing like it! It's even better when they imagine together and create kingdoms and have Star Wars battles in their room, all without my help! Joy.
8. Seeing them stick up for each other: The other day my three year old and two year old were playing with a friend. The other little boy came and took something away from Sophia (2), and Thomas (3) marched right over and said "you don't take that fwom my sista." He of course applied inappropriate force to get it back but then triumphantly headed right over to his little sister gave her the toy, hugged her and said "here you go Phia." Sometimes when we are out grocery shopping he holds her hand in the parking lot and gently says "no walk in cars Phia."....Uh, sweet Joy!
7. Seeing them pray for real: Even before I had my own kids there was something beautiful about seeing a child pray. But there is something inexplicably wonderful about seeing your own child talk to God, or tell you with unabashed trust and joy that he will "just pray about it" or that he did pray about it and God answered him. Hearing their little voices say the Rosary makes me tear up, every time. Beautiful Joy.
6. Seeing them eat vegetables: It sounds so simple, but who knew that watching a child consume broccoli without puking could make you so happy! Any meal that doesn't involve screaming and gagging is my favorite meal. Healthy joy.
5. Learning to put their shoes on by themselves and buckle their own seat belt: These skills will change your life! When you can say "it's time to go, please get your shoes on" and they can DO it! Wonderful, beautiful joy! And when you don't have to wade through the crushed goldfish and empty molding juice cups in the car to get their seat belt on, you will start getting places 2 minutes earlier! Ah, efficient joy.
4. When they start thinking of others: This only started recently for us with our little ones. But it is such a beautiful thing when they begin to discover that they are not the only person on earth, when they start to listen to other peoples needs and respond in love. A few weeks ago I was sitting on the couch after dinner, folding laundry. I was talking to my husband and said "my head hurts, I don't think I had enough water after I worked out today." The next thing I knew my sweet Alexander (7) had climbed up on the counter, gotten a glass, filled it with water and was bringing it to me. Pure Joy!
3. When they make each other laugh: When my two year old gets in the baby's face and makes a bunch of inexplicable sounds and pets his head and he proceeds to laugh harder and louder then he does for anyone else, because he seems to really know what she's talking about. Joy.
2. Seeing them love books: One of my favorite things is when a toddler brings me a book, forces themselves into my lap and says "read this mommy." It is even better when they get older, find a book, cozy up in a chair and read to themselves!. Beautiful Joy.
And the number ONE most unexpected source of joy....
When a toddler stops what he is doing, goes into the bathroom, pulls his pants down by himself, and put his big stinky shadoobey in the toilet where it belongs! Unspeakable, priceless, unending JOY!
What are some of your unexpected pleasures of parenting? It's always good for us to remind each other of the little things because the rest of it is just so easy to complain about!
Wednesday, January 18, 2012
Peace Be With You
"Don't be anxious; instead, give thanks in all your prayers and petitions and make your requests known to God. And God's peace which is beyond all understanding will keep your hearts and minds in Christ Jesus." (Phil 4:6-7).
I have heard this scripture literally, hundreds and hundreds of times. I have heard it in church, seen it stitched on pillows, heard it quoted, sermonized, elaborated on to no end and yet on a daily basis I find it nearly impossible to live.
Other translations say be anxious for nothing. And yet, every day I find myself anxious about money, the condition of my house, the condition of my soul, the past, present and future of my children, the laundry, the dishes, the unrelenting need of my family to eat dinner every night....anxious, anxious, anxious.
Some days are better than others of course. Some days I am Donna Reed vacuuming my immaculate house, in my high heels with a roast in the oven and my perfectly clean children reading in the corner. Oh, wait that doesn't sound right, more like vacuuming with a child on my hip and a toddler screaming because the vacuum is too loud while another toddler yells at me from the bathroom to come wipe his bottom with the idea of dinner defrosting on the counter. Still there really are days when none of that fazes me and I feel happy and at peace in this chaotic vocation God has given me.
But what about all the other days? We are created to be at peace. Created to be in relationship with the God of Peace and yet so often on this road to holiness we allow the burdens of our vocation to rob us of our peace. I am slowly learning not to let that happen, but it takes concerted effort and prayer every day. St. Therese of Lisieux is one of my all time favorite saints because she is always reminding us that it is in the little things that we grow closest to God. Herein lies the encouraging word of the day for us mothers because our WHOLE JOB consists of little things. Little things that often go unseen, and even more often unnoticed. Much of our job is thankless not because our families deliberately take us for granted but because they just can't see the big picture yet. Particularly for the mothers that only have small children, trust me, it gets better! Our teenage daughter thanks me every time I make dinner! This is a huge change from the groans I often get from her little siblings. But her gratitude flows over and they follow suit. Just think of all the things you never realized your mother did for you until recently when through your tears you find yourself asking how on earth she did it! So, how do we find peace in the little things? How do we find holiness and happiness in the minutia of housework and child-rearing? Or how do you amazing working mom's find peace on the days you feel divided or guilty or just plain exhausted? Fr. Jacques Philippe says it perfectly: "If I am still not able to remain at peace when faced with difficult situations, then it is better that I should begin to strive to keep this peace in the easier situations of every day life:
to quietly and without irritability do my daily chores, I don't know about you but this is SO hard sometimes! Today I will not huff and puff and roll my eyes every time another needless mess is made, or I find myself buried in laundry. I will fold with a smile being grateful my children have clothes and I have a WASHING MACHINE!
to commit myself to doing each thing well in the present moment without preoccupying myself with what follows, Definitely easier said then done. I am always doing one thing with my mind on the 20 other things that remain undone. I will play with my children and NOT think about how dirty the toilets are while I do it.
to speak peacefully and with gentleness to those around me, and to avoid excessive hurry in my gestures and in the way I climb the stairs!" This one can be so hard. Why is it that those sweet angelic faces and innocent eyes can melt our hearts and incite unspeakable rage all within a matter of minutes? I will be patient and kind to my children and to my husband and I will try not to blow past them to my next task but include them in my day and be at peace with all that goes undone.
Let's not forget the part of that infamous scripture that tells us to bring our petitions and make our requests known to God. He is not denying that we have needs and anxieties he is just giving us a more effective way to deal with them. Our life becomes a prayer and our prayer becomes to align ourselves with God's will (and if your're me your daily prayers include a lot of requests for more grocery money, a bigger house, more energy, and a little more space between babies). Peace that passes ALL understanding, that definitely sounds better than what happens when I try to do it all myself.
I have heard this scripture literally, hundreds and hundreds of times. I have heard it in church, seen it stitched on pillows, heard it quoted, sermonized, elaborated on to no end and yet on a daily basis I find it nearly impossible to live.
Other translations say be anxious for nothing. And yet, every day I find myself anxious about money, the condition of my house, the condition of my soul, the past, present and future of my children, the laundry, the dishes, the unrelenting need of my family to eat dinner every night....anxious, anxious, anxious.
Some days are better than others of course. Some days I am Donna Reed vacuuming my immaculate house, in my high heels with a roast in the oven and my perfectly clean children reading in the corner. Oh, wait that doesn't sound right, more like vacuuming with a child on my hip and a toddler screaming because the vacuum is too loud while another toddler yells at me from the bathroom to come wipe his bottom with the idea of dinner defrosting on the counter. Still there really are days when none of that fazes me and I feel happy and at peace in this chaotic vocation God has given me.
But what about all the other days? We are created to be at peace. Created to be in relationship with the God of Peace and yet so often on this road to holiness we allow the burdens of our vocation to rob us of our peace. I am slowly learning not to let that happen, but it takes concerted effort and prayer every day. St. Therese of Lisieux is one of my all time favorite saints because she is always reminding us that it is in the little things that we grow closest to God. Herein lies the encouraging word of the day for us mothers because our WHOLE JOB consists of little things. Little things that often go unseen, and even more often unnoticed. Much of our job is thankless not because our families deliberately take us for granted but because they just can't see the big picture yet. Particularly for the mothers that only have small children, trust me, it gets better! Our teenage daughter thanks me every time I make dinner! This is a huge change from the groans I often get from her little siblings. But her gratitude flows over and they follow suit. Just think of all the things you never realized your mother did for you until recently when through your tears you find yourself asking how on earth she did it! So, how do we find peace in the little things? How do we find holiness and happiness in the minutia of housework and child-rearing? Or how do you amazing working mom's find peace on the days you feel divided or guilty or just plain exhausted? Fr. Jacques Philippe says it perfectly: "If I am still not able to remain at peace when faced with difficult situations, then it is better that I should begin to strive to keep this peace in the easier situations of every day life:
to quietly and without irritability do my daily chores, I don't know about you but this is SO hard sometimes! Today I will not huff and puff and roll my eyes every time another needless mess is made, or I find myself buried in laundry. I will fold with a smile being grateful my children have clothes and I have a WASHING MACHINE!
to commit myself to doing each thing well in the present moment without preoccupying myself with what follows, Definitely easier said then done. I am always doing one thing with my mind on the 20 other things that remain undone. I will play with my children and NOT think about how dirty the toilets are while I do it.
to speak peacefully and with gentleness to those around me, and to avoid excessive hurry in my gestures and in the way I climb the stairs!" This one can be so hard. Why is it that those sweet angelic faces and innocent eyes can melt our hearts and incite unspeakable rage all within a matter of minutes? I will be patient and kind to my children and to my husband and I will try not to blow past them to my next task but include them in my day and be at peace with all that goes undone.
Let's not forget the part of that infamous scripture that tells us to bring our petitions and make our requests known to God. He is not denying that we have needs and anxieties he is just giving us a more effective way to deal with them. Our life becomes a prayer and our prayer becomes to align ourselves with God's will (and if your're me your daily prayers include a lot of requests for more grocery money, a bigger house, more energy, and a little more space between babies). Peace that passes ALL understanding, that definitely sounds better than what happens when I try to do it all myself.
Monday, January 16, 2012
If I had a dollar for every time...
We had one of those weekends "in the world." Which means we ventured out of our bubble a bit more than usual for the rare dinner out, a few doctors appointments and errands, and some family fun after which I inevitably want to run as fast as I can back to my bubble, pack all of our things and move to the country somewhere in the middle of nowhere and never deal with the world again.
But since I can't do that, and since I don't have the mental energy to articulate all that is wrong with the world I will just list the top five things we hear in public and the subsequent answers I wish I could give. Let's just say if they came with monetary compensation I would not be worrying about how to make our paycheck last 5 more days.
1. Are all of these children yours? No, we borrowed these children from six different families, all of which have the appropriate amount of children and needed a break from the hardship and expense of parenting one little person. I have no idea how they all look so similar; I have no idea why they are all calling me "mom"; no that smell is not coming from us.
2. Don't you know how that happens?/ Don't you own a T.V.? I hear it has something to do with sex, but we are repressed Catholics who know nothing about that so obviously these children were all immaculately conceived. OR No we do not own a T.V. and clearly we never leave the bedroom; do you feel inadequate now?
3. Oh my, you sure have your hands full Thank you for stating the obvious, without the least amount of real concern or admiration; the judgmental sneer really helps drive home how freaked out you are by my "full hands," thankfully my sweet children have no idea that you are commenting on our numbers with disdain.
4. Are you going to have any more? (the gumption of this one really gets me every time) Of course not, six kids is one thing, but seven that would just be cahraaaazzzyyyy. We had some real enlightenment come with the last birth and we hate making so many people uncomfortable so we will make sure it never happens again. By the way do you like the pill, a condom, or did you just opt for sterilization? Oh, I'm sorry is that question too personal?
5. Your husband must do very well Well, obviously because the only reason anyone would have this many children is if they could afford round the clock help while ensuring that each child will get his own room, his own computer, DS, and IPOD, and play piano, violin, soccer and tennis. Obviously, if we were poor birth control would be the only responsible choice (no, you don't sound like a communist).
I have yet to actually answer these questions this way, but mostly because my children are listening. I must point out though that for every 10 negative comments, or loaded questions there are usually 2 or 3 nice ones. Some of my favorites include "what a beautiful family," "you are so blessed," "treasure the time they grow up too fast," and "they are so well behaved and fun." I have never heard of any one looking back and saying they wished they'd had less children but how many times have you heard people wish they'd had more? I am not saying it's easy, I AM saying it's totally worth it.
But since I can't do that, and since I don't have the mental energy to articulate all that is wrong with the world I will just list the top five things we hear in public and the subsequent answers I wish I could give. Let's just say if they came with monetary compensation I would not be worrying about how to make our paycheck last 5 more days.
1. Are all of these children yours? No, we borrowed these children from six different families, all of which have the appropriate amount of children and needed a break from the hardship and expense of parenting one little person. I have no idea how they all look so similar; I have no idea why they are all calling me "mom"; no that smell is not coming from us.
2. Don't you know how that happens?/ Don't you own a T.V.? I hear it has something to do with sex, but we are repressed Catholics who know nothing about that so obviously these children were all immaculately conceived. OR No we do not own a T.V. and clearly we never leave the bedroom; do you feel inadequate now?
3. Oh my, you sure have your hands full Thank you for stating the obvious, without the least amount of real concern or admiration; the judgmental sneer really helps drive home how freaked out you are by my "full hands," thankfully my sweet children have no idea that you are commenting on our numbers with disdain.
4. Are you going to have any more? (the gumption of this one really gets me every time) Of course not, six kids is one thing, but seven that would just be cahraaaazzzyyyy. We had some real enlightenment come with the last birth and we hate making so many people uncomfortable so we will make sure it never happens again. By the way do you like the pill, a condom, or did you just opt for sterilization? Oh, I'm sorry is that question too personal?
5. Your husband must do very well Well, obviously because the only reason anyone would have this many children is if they could afford round the clock help while ensuring that each child will get his own room, his own computer, DS, and IPOD, and play piano, violin, soccer and tennis. Obviously, if we were poor birth control would be the only responsible choice (no, you don't sound like a communist).
I have yet to actually answer these questions this way, but mostly because my children are listening. I must point out though that for every 10 negative comments, or loaded questions there are usually 2 or 3 nice ones. Some of my favorites include "what a beautiful family," "you are so blessed," "treasure the time they grow up too fast," and "they are so well behaved and fun." I have never heard of any one looking back and saying they wished they'd had less children but how many times have you heard people wish they'd had more? I am not saying it's easy, I AM saying it's totally worth it.
Thursday, January 12, 2012
Be Careful What you Pray For
Do you ever have those moments in prayer, where you find yourself asking for certain virtues, with the utmost sincerity and conviction, sure that you are ready to see God take you to the next level? Then he starts to answer that prayer and you think "what the hell is going on? When did life get so hard? Does this mean holiness isn't glamorous?
Last year I was pregnant with my fifth baby (our sixth altogether since our oldest was a super-duper bonus that came with my hubby) and having some rare moment in my inconsistent prayer life where it occurred to me to ask God what virtue I needed to focus on. The Holy Spirit was kind enough to narrow it down for me and the virtue of humility came to mind. I decided to recite the Litany of Humility everyday and ask God to show me where I needed to exercise more humility. Boy, was I in for it! Little did I realize that the vehicle for my humility was right in front of me the whole time: My almost three-year-old son.
This little gift from God has been a source of humility and holiness for me since the moment he came out. He was a colicky baby, he is a picky eater, he is willful and defiant in a way that I swore my kids never would be (ha! younger me was so stupid), and as he approached three, the defiance just got more glaring. I had been at this parenting game long enough to know that it is a humbling profession, but I swear the second I started praying that litany my son's defiance went to a whole new level and he made me feel like I had never done of this before.
Kids have a way of stripping us down to our truest selves. And they have a will which means even if your truest self is teaching them to obey they don't have to do it, and often times they won't. My success or failure is NOT contingent on whether or not they obey, it is contingent on what I DO when they don't, but tell that to a mother on the brink of tears because her toddler just slapped her in the face on the way down to communion.
You can set all the right parameters, have all the reasonable thought-out discipline, the right attitude, the right tone of voice, you can pray the rosary 3 times a day, and still your children will not obey you. And if you're like me and decide to make a point of asking for humility they will not obey you, loudly, and in public. Perhaps in a grocery store, screaming "noooo" at the top of their lungs, methodically throwing items from the cart, while man-handling their little sister and adding a stuck-out tongue or some spit just to make the scene complete. I'll admit it, before I had kids, or even when I just had two (two with pretty easy temperaments I might add) I would have seen this scene and thought "what is wrong with that mother," or "how on earth can she allow him to act that way." I wish I could go back to the mother's I judged and apologize, or help them, or smile at them with a knowing grin, or pick up some of the crap the kid threw out of the cart (in my scenario, by the way, I left the half-full cart, grabbed my purse, the screaming toddler and the baby and waddled my humiliated self right out the door, then waited until we got home, far from the eyes and ears of anyone who could call CPS on me and laid down the law...oh, but I called my husband crying first).
My wonderful and dear spiritual director once said to me "you know you're living your vocation when it is, without effort, a constant vehicle of holiness for you." Because really that is what it's all about: holiness. And holiness isn't always pretty and it certainly isn't easy, just think of David's words "Let the bones you have crushed rejoice." (emphasis mine) Ouch! Why is God crushing my bones? Because without that crushing, I think I am better than everybody else and I judge instead of help, or I sneer instead of pray.
I did actually stop praying the Litany everyday. I just couldn't handle it. I do still pray it a few times a week and and ask God to go easy on me, please. But it did change my perspective on my kids behavior. Granted I still require obedience, and I don't relish the public humiliation that comes with a child that defies me, but when I see people shaking their heads or casting judgement with their squinty eyes I just think "the more aghast you are at my child's behavior the more opportunity you are giving me to grow in holiness, so thank you for the snarls and glares, hopefully we will meet in heaven."
Just thought a visual of my little holiness-maker was in order. There's a reason God makes them so cute!
Now go hug your holiness-makers and thank God He called you to do this and not empty porta-potties for a living.
Last year I was pregnant with my fifth baby (our sixth altogether since our oldest was a super-duper bonus that came with my hubby) and having some rare moment in my inconsistent prayer life where it occurred to me to ask God what virtue I needed to focus on. The Holy Spirit was kind enough to narrow it down for me and the virtue of humility came to mind. I decided to recite the Litany of Humility everyday and ask God to show me where I needed to exercise more humility. Boy, was I in for it! Little did I realize that the vehicle for my humility was right in front of me the whole time: My almost three-year-old son.
This little gift from God has been a source of humility and holiness for me since the moment he came out. He was a colicky baby, he is a picky eater, he is willful and defiant in a way that I swore my kids never would be (ha! younger me was so stupid), and as he approached three, the defiance just got more glaring. I had been at this parenting game long enough to know that it is a humbling profession, but I swear the second I started praying that litany my son's defiance went to a whole new level and he made me feel like I had never done of this before.
Kids have a way of stripping us down to our truest selves. And they have a will which means even if your truest self is teaching them to obey they don't have to do it, and often times they won't. My success or failure is NOT contingent on whether or not they obey, it is contingent on what I DO when they don't, but tell that to a mother on the brink of tears because her toddler just slapped her in the face on the way down to communion.
You can set all the right parameters, have all the reasonable thought-out discipline, the right attitude, the right tone of voice, you can pray the rosary 3 times a day, and still your children will not obey you. And if you're like me and decide to make a point of asking for humility they will not obey you, loudly, and in public. Perhaps in a grocery store, screaming "noooo" at the top of their lungs, methodically throwing items from the cart, while man-handling their little sister and adding a stuck-out tongue or some spit just to make the scene complete. I'll admit it, before I had kids, or even when I just had two (two with pretty easy temperaments I might add) I would have seen this scene and thought "what is wrong with that mother," or "how on earth can she allow him to act that way." I wish I could go back to the mother's I judged and apologize, or help them, or smile at them with a knowing grin, or pick up some of the crap the kid threw out of the cart (in my scenario, by the way, I left the half-full cart, grabbed my purse, the screaming toddler and the baby and waddled my humiliated self right out the door, then waited until we got home, far from the eyes and ears of anyone who could call CPS on me and laid down the law...oh, but I called my husband crying first).
My wonderful and dear spiritual director once said to me "you know you're living your vocation when it is, without effort, a constant vehicle of holiness for you." Because really that is what it's all about: holiness. And holiness isn't always pretty and it certainly isn't easy, just think of David's words "Let the bones you have crushed rejoice." (emphasis mine) Ouch! Why is God crushing my bones? Because without that crushing, I think I am better than everybody else and I judge instead of help, or I sneer instead of pray.
I did actually stop praying the Litany everyday. I just couldn't handle it. I do still pray it a few times a week and and ask God to go easy on me, please. But it did change my perspective on my kids behavior. Granted I still require obedience, and I don't relish the public humiliation that comes with a child that defies me, but when I see people shaking their heads or casting judgement with their squinty eyes I just think "the more aghast you are at my child's behavior the more opportunity you are giving me to grow in holiness, so thank you for the snarls and glares, hopefully we will meet in heaven."
Now go hug your holiness-makers and thank God He called you to do this and not empty porta-potties for a living.
Wednesday, January 11, 2012
Joining the Blogosphere
For at least two years now I have been toying with the idea of entering the blogosphere. My husband has encouraged it, my friends as well, all asserting that I have something to say, something to add. Of course they could just be encouraging me to take my rambling elsewhere but for the sake of mustering the courage and resolve to do this I will assume that is not the case.
I am a thirty-something stay-at-home Catholic mom of six challenging, wonderful children. The title of this blog is a bit of a commentary of all the things I "used to be" before this grand adventure called parenting. I find myself often saying "I used to be a writer," "...a singer,"..."a size 6." But really I wouldn't trade any of those things (well maybe the size 6 bit), for what I am now. I do however often miss my brain! Where did it go? Who took it? With each pregnancy and each subsequent new-born coma I am certain brain cells have been lost and I am determined to get them back! Perhaps this will just be cathartic for me and save my husband thousands of dollars in would-be therapy; perhaps I can encourage other woman who have days, or weeks, when they ask themselves if all this selflessness and sacrifice is really worth it. Or maybe I can make you feel better about your parenting skills and tactics by revealing how lacking I am in mine.
Either way, we'll see where this goes. For now, thanks for the consideration of reading anything I have to say!
I am a thirty-something stay-at-home Catholic mom of six challenging, wonderful children. The title of this blog is a bit of a commentary of all the things I "used to be" before this grand adventure called parenting. I find myself often saying "I used to be a writer," "...a singer,"..."a size 6." But really I wouldn't trade any of those things (well maybe the size 6 bit), for what I am now. I do however often miss my brain! Where did it go? Who took it? With each pregnancy and each subsequent new-born coma I am certain brain cells have been lost and I am determined to get them back! Perhaps this will just be cathartic for me and save my husband thousands of dollars in would-be therapy; perhaps I can encourage other woman who have days, or weeks, when they ask themselves if all this selflessness and sacrifice is really worth it. Or maybe I can make you feel better about your parenting skills and tactics by revealing how lacking I am in mine.
Either way, we'll see where this goes. For now, thanks for the consideration of reading anything I have to say!
My Job is Harder Than Your Job
Sometimes I have entire days where I am unshakably preoccupied with how hard my job is. I wake up (at some ungodly hour, after a tear-inducing insignificant amount of sleep) and think about how hard the day is going to be: breakfast, diapers, clothes, 3 kids out the door, 3 loads of laundry, yesterday's laundry still unfinished, diapers, cleaning, breaking up fights, diapers, nursing, 3 kids in the door, more fights, more nursing, dinner, dishes, baths, homework, reading, praying, bedtime. It makes me tired just writing it. Of course in my little litany here I forgot to add nurturing, teaching, laughing, loving, playing and laughing some more. Why is it so hard to wake up and think of those things?
And these kinds of days never end well either, because while I spend the day thinking about how hard my day is I also like to consider how much harder it is than my husband's. This is monumentally unfair of course since he has to spend his whole day with other people's children, mostly middle school aged children and he has to deal with their parents and he is required by law and contract to teach them something, and then of course enrich their lives with his selflessness and creativity, going above and beyond his pay grade to make an eternal difference in their lives. I haven't asked, but something tells me he doesn't wake up thinking of the latter either!
I notice we sometimes fall into this temptation of self pity, or at least I do, where I am certain that I am giving more, doing more, sacrificing more and he has no idea what my day is like. What a load of crap. Granted I am better at all this domestic stuff, and I do endure more crying and poop and snot than he does; I can multi-task better and get more done in a day around the house but none of that means I work harder. Oh and by the way I chose this job and last I checked I didn't have all 6 kids at one time. It's a different kind of work and I get to do mine in yoga pants with out a principal checking in on me. He could just as easily say I have no idea what his day is like, nor do I know the pressure and weight he feels as the sole provider of our home. I can't relate with how hard it is to switch gears when he comes home from a hard day of work and can't even enjoy a quiet ride home because three of the children come and go with him. I can go an entire day without talking to another adult; he can go an entire day bombarded with adults he'd rather avoid.
Bottom line, it does neither of us any good to compare work loads. It isn't always 50/50. And wouldn't the devil be so pleased if he could distract me with all this self-pity nonsense just long enough for me to miss the beauty of this vocation and the amazing love that inspires my husband to go to work every day. Plus, if you aren't in the fox hole with your husband get out now! None of this is worth it if we can't at the very least appreciate each other, and find solace in our mutual suffering, sacrifice and lack of sleep. The majority of our kids are small and it will be years before they appreciate what we're doing for them and we don't resent them one bit (well maybe a teensy bit when we're cleaning up their poop, or serving another dinner to thankless groans), because we know they aren't finished yet. Lately, when I feel the temptation to compare notes on whose day was harder, I stop and think of at least three things I am thankful my husband does for me. I can always think of more than three, but I'm not finished yet either, so it's good for me to force myself to start small. It's easy to appreciate the joys of parenting together: the smiles, the I-love-you's, the good report cards and soccer goals. It takes real effort, prayer and grace to appreciate the thankless side of parenting and be able to wake up each morning glad you're being under appreciated together!
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