Dear Lord;
Things aren't going so well today. I have already lost my patience several times and the sun isn't even up.
Give me your patience today.
When I look into their eyes, let me see what you see.
When they're screaming in my face, let me love like you love.
When I am wiping another bottom, let me serve how you served.
When they throw their lunch on the floor and complain, let me find a way to fill their bellies without resentment.
When they fight and scream, let me stop and play and solve problems in patient way, in a way that says "I have time for you."
When they ruin my work, and slow me down, and unfold my laundry let me stop and show them that work is a gift not a burden and they are a help to mommy, not a nuisance.
Give me creative, practical things to do with them because my mind is too tired, and my ego too fragile to look for ideas on Pintrest.
Help me prepare them for the coming of your Son.
Help me remember that Jesus came to us as a baby, that he was the age of my children once and when I love them, I love that beautiful Savior.
Remind me that Mary, my Mother is here for me when I have no perspective on how quickly this time really goes.
Remind me that time is a thief and one day I will look back on these days with wonder, longing for a little one to place on my lap, or a baby to nurse.
Help me humble myself and call on Mary and her Beloved Son for help.
Help me see my children today.
Help me see you in them today.
Help me serve the least of these because that is what you have called me to do today and always.
And when I feel the anger and frustration welling up inside of me, when I want to raise my voice, or my hand, remind me that these beautiful children are a precious gift from my loving Savior and help me extend to them the same Grace, Patience, Understanding, Mercy and Love that I so desperately need from you and from others every day of my life.
Amen
Wednesday, December 11, 2013
Tuesday, December 3, 2013
I May Have Stumbled Upon a Good Idea!
Do you ever hear the "experts" talk about how important it is for you to spend one on one time with your kids? Do you ever listen to their reasons, hear their ideas and then find yourself desperately socking money away to pay for the children's inevitably hefty therapy bill?
We all feel like we are falling short. We all wonder if we're doing enough, wonder when we'll realize we were doing it wrong, when we'll see the fruit of our ignorance, hoping all the good will outweigh some of the stupid. This is true whether you have 1 kid or 10, we want them to know we love them, to know they're safe, and treasured and an integral and an irreplaceable part of the family (without making them spoiled, self-involved, poor losers who think they're God's gift to humanity, of course).
But life is so busy! There is always so much going on and there is never enough time, enough money or Lord have mercy enough energy to do all the things we might think of to do to communicate to these little humans how important they are to us!
Recently, I was praying about some way I could give each kid just a little more time and attention. Our days can go by so quickly and often we are counting heads in the midst of the chaos just to make sure they all got in the van on the way to wherever we're crazy enough to be going.
So, by the inspiration of the Holy Spirit, and probably from some recess of my brain where I keep all the parenting advice I have soaked in over the years, I came up with Super Tuesday! Not sure why we are calling it Super Tuesday, probably something to do with my very patriotic upbringing, but that's the name that stuck so I guess that's what it will be called forever.
Let me be clear; I do not want to share this in some attempt to show you how together we Mullers are! I am hoping that maybe it will give you hope that you can do little things, that are actually sustainable, and affordable and the whole one-on-one time doesn't have to be so ridiculously unmanageable.
This is how it works:
Each Kid get's a Tuesday (for now we are only doing school-aged children because I see those other guys all the time...but we'll see if they ask for it too). When it is your Tuesday you get to:
1. Pick what's for dinner (and no it can't be pizza every time, and no it can't be ice cream). I figure I have to cook anyway, this way they feel special because they get to pick something they love; something I am making just for them. While we have our special dinner everyone goes around and says something they love about the spotlighted kiddo.
2. Pick a special dessert: easy enough and special because we don't usually have dessert unless it's someone's birthday.
3. You get to stay up 30 minutes later than everyone else and do something with mom and dad: the only stipulation here is that it can't involve a screen of any kind. Good ol' fashioned face time. To avoid mom and dad (or special kid) being up too late, all the other children have to go to their rooms at 7:30 to read or play, so that we can still be done by 8:00. (or whatever time you start to get that must-be-away-from-all-children feeling).
And that's it!
When I pitched it to the kids I thought they'd be happy, mostly about the dessert but I was amazed at their response. They had all decided every detail of their week within a day or two. My 8 year old has taken to writing the upcoming event on the big dry erase board in the kitchen with the person's menu choices and activity, and a count down to that person's day. They love it!
Things I love about it:
We get to celebrate as a whole family: I always liked the idea of taking them out for dinner or ice cream or something, but that gets so expensive plus you have to find something to do with all the other kids. I love this because it involves everyone, and we all get to show our love and appreciation for the super-kid.
I am learning things about my kids I didn't know: Our five-year-old wanted to put on music and dance with mommy. This is something I used to do with him a lot before he went to school, but I was really doing for me, as a way to move and get some exercise, I never knew he missed it. But it was the first thing he said he wanted to do. I only had to dance with him for a few minutes then for almost 20 minutes he just picked his favorite songs and just wanted Adam and I to "look at his moves." He just needed to know I was watching, that we see him. He wasn't competing for our attention and that made him so happy. My son whose turn it is tonight, already has the board games picked out that he wants to play. He's my face-time kid, a quality time guy. I knew that but this is a good reminder. It's like getting a little peek into their personality and temperament and I love waiting to see what they're going to want.
It's sustainable: I have tried things before and it's just never worked because it was too much. This feels so doable for the long run. I hope it evolves and is something we do until they're teenagers (our teenager is looking forward to her turn too!) so that the groundwork is set and maybe these will be the times they know they can talk to us about stuff, a time they know they'll have our undivided attention.
It's fun without being over the top: Our culture is so indulgent, everything is so BIG. I like this because it's just a few little things but it's enough to make them feel special and it teaches them to be excited for others too. They look forward to celebrating their siblings.
Maybe you can do this too, or some version of it that fits your family. Maybe you want to share the things your family does. I am realizing more and more that what matters the most is that they know we are here, and that God put them in this family for a reason. I can pull myself up out of the trenches of laundry and dishes and homework and nursing babies long enough to tell them I enjoy them, I want to laugh with them and talk to them and make sure they know that our family is only complete because they are in it. Who knows what they'll need to tell their therapist, but for now I am sure they know they're loved.
We all feel like we are falling short. We all wonder if we're doing enough, wonder when we'll realize we were doing it wrong, when we'll see the fruit of our ignorance, hoping all the good will outweigh some of the stupid. This is true whether you have 1 kid or 10, we want them to know we love them, to know they're safe, and treasured and an integral and an irreplaceable part of the family (without making them spoiled, self-involved, poor losers who think they're God's gift to humanity, of course).
But life is so busy! There is always so much going on and there is never enough time, enough money or Lord have mercy enough energy to do all the things we might think of to do to communicate to these little humans how important they are to us!
Recently, I was praying about some way I could give each kid just a little more time and attention. Our days can go by so quickly and often we are counting heads in the midst of the chaos just to make sure they all got in the van on the way to wherever we're crazy enough to be going.
So, by the inspiration of the Holy Spirit, and probably from some recess of my brain where I keep all the parenting advice I have soaked in over the years, I came up with Super Tuesday! Not sure why we are calling it Super Tuesday, probably something to do with my very patriotic upbringing, but that's the name that stuck so I guess that's what it will be called forever.
Let me be clear; I do not want to share this in some attempt to show you how together we Mullers are! I am hoping that maybe it will give you hope that you can do little things, that are actually sustainable, and affordable and the whole one-on-one time doesn't have to be so ridiculously unmanageable.
This is how it works:
Each Kid get's a Tuesday (for now we are only doing school-aged children because I see those other guys all the time...but we'll see if they ask for it too). When it is your Tuesday you get to:
1. Pick what's for dinner (and no it can't be pizza every time, and no it can't be ice cream). I figure I have to cook anyway, this way they feel special because they get to pick something they love; something I am making just for them. While we have our special dinner everyone goes around and says something they love about the spotlighted kiddo.
2. Pick a special dessert: easy enough and special because we don't usually have dessert unless it's someone's birthday.
3. You get to stay up 30 minutes later than everyone else and do something with mom and dad: the only stipulation here is that it can't involve a screen of any kind. Good ol' fashioned face time. To avoid mom and dad (or special kid) being up too late, all the other children have to go to their rooms at 7:30 to read or play, so that we can still be done by 8:00. (or whatever time you start to get that must-be-away-from-all-children feeling).
And that's it!
When I pitched it to the kids I thought they'd be happy, mostly about the dessert but I was amazed at their response. They had all decided every detail of their week within a day or two. My 8 year old has taken to writing the upcoming event on the big dry erase board in the kitchen with the person's menu choices and activity, and a count down to that person's day. They love it!
Things I love about it:
We get to celebrate as a whole family: I always liked the idea of taking them out for dinner or ice cream or something, but that gets so expensive plus you have to find something to do with all the other kids. I love this because it involves everyone, and we all get to show our love and appreciation for the super-kid.
I am learning things about my kids I didn't know: Our five-year-old wanted to put on music and dance with mommy. This is something I used to do with him a lot before he went to school, but I was really doing for me, as a way to move and get some exercise, I never knew he missed it. But it was the first thing he said he wanted to do. I only had to dance with him for a few minutes then for almost 20 minutes he just picked his favorite songs and just wanted Adam and I to "look at his moves." He just needed to know I was watching, that we see him. He wasn't competing for our attention and that made him so happy. My son whose turn it is tonight, already has the board games picked out that he wants to play. He's my face-time kid, a quality time guy. I knew that but this is a good reminder. It's like getting a little peek into their personality and temperament and I love waiting to see what they're going to want.
It's sustainable: I have tried things before and it's just never worked because it was too much. This feels so doable for the long run. I hope it evolves and is something we do until they're teenagers (our teenager is looking forward to her turn too!) so that the groundwork is set and maybe these will be the times they know they can talk to us about stuff, a time they know they'll have our undivided attention.
It's fun without being over the top: Our culture is so indulgent, everything is so BIG. I like this because it's just a few little things but it's enough to make them feel special and it teaches them to be excited for others too. They look forward to celebrating their siblings.
Maybe you can do this too, or some version of it that fits your family. Maybe you want to share the things your family does. I am realizing more and more that what matters the most is that they know we are here, and that God put them in this family for a reason. I can pull myself up out of the trenches of laundry and dishes and homework and nursing babies long enough to tell them I enjoy them, I want to laugh with them and talk to them and make sure they know that our family is only complete because they are in it. Who knows what they'll need to tell their therapist, but for now I am sure they know they're loved.
Thursday, November 14, 2013
To borrow from Lewis: I Have a Problem with Pain
I have a few unfinished posts started. Anecdotes about the craziness of life with seven kids. Things I want to remember, things that might make people laugh, things that might make someone feel less alone. But today I can't seem to finish them or convince myself that any body would care to read them.
Instead I'll write about what is on my mind, even if no one ends up reading it, it may prove useful.
Suffering.
What a broad and mysterious word. What a daunting concept. We could spend our whole lives trying to figure it out, trying to beat it, trying to overcome it, learning to live with it.
Obviously this is a topic tackled by far greater minds than my own, theologians, philosophers, atheists and saints. Pain is part of the human condition. So why do we resist is so? Why do we feel surprised or unjustly burdened when it seeps in, or even overcomes us?
Because God did not intend for us to ever be in pain.
I think this is the most important lesson we will ever learn in life. God intended a paradise for us. A life without pain, and grief, and loss. He intended for us to live whole, in Eden, working for the greater glory of our loving Creator.
We all know what happened. We all know we are fallen and in need of grace, in need of Christ and his redemption. But we forget sometimes that our desires, our expectations and our humanity were still designed for another world. We were designed for Eden and Eden is gone. Now we prepare for Heaven, the new Eden, our real home. God does eventually promise us a world without pain, without loss, and fear, and death. We can hope in that, we can live for that, but we cannot get there without walking through the pain.
In his beautiful redemptive grace he gives us another chance to find Eden, but then he tells us we cannot get there without suffering, without picking up our cross and dying with Christ.
Sometimes the thing about suffering that bothers me the most is how imbalanced it can seem. We are all called to suffer but for one person that could truly mean living on a tight budget, or letting their cleaning lady go after years of financial freedom and frivolity. It could mean staying home with two kids when your real desire is to work. Or it can mean watching your child die right in front of you.
Suffering can be mocking in its relativity. But we must be careful not to judge what may be cross-carrying material for one and every day life for another. I am discovering that suffering is often defined by how helpless it makes you feel. You are at the mercy of this pain, whatever it may be, you cannot change it and so you must choose to learn from it.
We often think that unless we open our arms to the suffering, and accept it like a saint (or how we imagine a saint would handle it) we are failing. But the truth is, part of the refining power of suffering is that our humanity kicks and screams the whole way, not because we are railing against God but because we have an innate understanding that this is not what we were created for and we are longing for the world we were made for; we are longing for heaven.
We do however, have to eventually accept the suffering. We do not have to abandon ourselves to it. We must abandon ourselves to God and allow him to do what he wills with the suffering. It doesn't matter how long or how much I have suffered, this is always the hardest part.
I suffer from chronic and severe migraines. Not cancer, nothing fatal or novel worthy, just really terrible, debilitating headaches. I have had them since I was 14, so I am used to it, I guess. But lately, I have taken issue with a whole other side of this cross. When it was just me, I hated the pain. I hated that it took me away from school and friends, and made it hard for me to be dependable at work.
Now I hate them because I see what it does to my family. I see their disappointed eyes when they realize I am going back to bed, or the way they turn off all the lights for me when I come out into the living room and the older ones start telling the younger ones to whisper. I hate that I miss baseball games, and school plays, and dinner and ice cream outings. I worry that its something that is causing a void, something they will have to deal with later, something they'll need therapy for. And I sit, in a dark room, in excruciating pain and think of them. I watch my amazing husband scramble to keep the house going while I hide in the dark and quiet; I watch him lie to me and tell me he's not tired or stressed after tucking the seventh kid into bed and then trying to catch up on the work he has missed. I can accept the pain, but it leaves quite a wake, and that is what I take issue with, that is what I bring to the cross with helpless tears.
At the heart of all suffering is a sense of total helplessness. This is why over and over Christ calls us to himself in the midst of our suffering. "Come to me all that are weary and I will give you rest." Suffering is so much greater than the pain it causes. We are built for relationships, and we are one body in Christ, so when one part of the body is hurting, it effects the whole body. This is what we have to bring to the cross over and over again. It's not fair. It stinks. I can't control it.
Whether you are suffering through a fatal illness, or a difficult marriage, or the unjust pain of infertility, you feel helpless. The sting of death effects us all and it is so easy to get lost in the reverberating pain.
But there is hope. We truly can unite our sufferings with Christs, we can offer our suffering up for the suffering of others, for the souls in purgatory, for the souls of our children and loved ones. It's like currency. God waits for us to give it back to him, to open our hands and then lift them up to his bosom. God never intended for us to suffer, but now that we must he pleads with us not to do it alone. We shouldn't and we can't.
I have to admit I don't always know what it looks like to "give it back." For me it is often just a word here and there, a silent offering up through my tears of frustration and anger and disappointment. My weak plea to make beauty out of ashes. I am often reminded that not only does he promise not to abandon us he promises to fill in the gaps, to make whole that which sin and death have broken. He meets the needs of my kids when I can't. He can be a husband to the woman whose husband has retreated into a world of pornography and lies, he can fill the void of the family with no child, or the child with no sibling.
It won't be perfect. We won't be perfectly happy. But we can find joy. We can find peace, and hope and love. This side of heaven we will hurt, we will ache and we will kick and scream against the inevitable pain of life. But we were not made for this world, and when we meet our Savior face to face, when we lay down our cross at his wounded feet, we will find complete happiness and we will be ushered into the new Eden, all of our hopes realized, and all of this will be but a breath.
Thursday, October 31, 2013
When We Have Nothing Left
I don't have a lot of time this morning, but I feel the overwhelming need to remind myself of something, and perhaps there is another worn out mom who needs to hear the same thing.
God wants so much to draw us to Himself. This is what the gospel reading is about today. Christ uses the simile of a hen drawing her chicks under her wing, so does he want to draw us to Himself. What a funny image. A robust, full breasted-hen, full of warmth and love just trying to pull her little aimless chicks to under her wing, because she knows that she can keep them safe, she can shield them from the fox that might be prowling, or the wind and the rain that might weaken their tiny constitutions. But what does Christ say in the same breath? "You were not willing." He longs to bring us to Himself but we just won't come. We know what's best, we have a better idea, we're pretty sure we're already doing what he asks anyway.
I saw this play out in perfect form about 30 minutes ago when my almost four-year-old wouldn't obey me. She is a magnificent little lady with all kinds of personality and ideas and a stubborn streak to rival her mother's. She is a tom-boy princess in the midst of five brothers constantly striving to make her own way...and she's only 4! And for some reason, she burns my fuse faster than any of my boys ever have (that's probably a topic for another post: why our relationships with our daughters can be so challenging). She was in her room, I went in to hold her and tell her she should come out and asked her the question I always do "what did you do wrong." Suddenly, she recoiled, sat back, crossed her arms and said "I don't know." So I asked again, "you can tell mommy, what did you do wrong?" Now she says "I want you to say it." This goes on for a minute or so until she decides naming her sin is not worth her freedom and so there she sits. She's not afraid of me, she knows I love her, she knows I will forgive her, but there she sits.
I do this all the time with God. He reaches out to me, knowing what's best for me, knowing how to protect and love me and I decide that I would rather sit in my room on my bed because being in his presence can cause me to look deeper into myself and maybe I don't want to do that yet. Or, being in his presence makes me realize how much I really need Him, ALL the time and I still want to think that I can do it on my own.
The funny thing is I know enough to know that I cannot do it without Him. I am the first one to admit that I need Him everyday to make me loving, and patient and kind. But saying I need Him, and actually allowing Him to help are two very different things. Saying I need him when all is calm is easy, makes me sound holy even, but allowing him to help me when the two-year-old and the three-year-old are screaming and violently tugging back and forth with some toy that suddenly is worth their lives, while the five-year-old yells at the eight-year-old to let him pick the cartoon, but the nine-year-old knows better so he just usurps the remote and makes a decision that makes everyone angry, all the while I am just trying to pee with the door closed. Oh and does anyone hear the baby because I'm pretty sure he's screaming too. Out of the protection of his wing, these moments will make me crazy, make me yell or even cry, but in the shadow of his wing I find the patience, the perspective and the humor to deal with the chaos. Sometimes a nice cocktail at the end of the night helps too.
When I woke up this morning all I could think about was how tired I was and how much more tired I was going to be tomorrow. Because today we have costumes and candy and door to door madness with 7 children followed by an early morning and more costumes and saint reports and saint parties. But when will I learn that all God is really asking is for us to draw near. Bring our burdens and our impatience, our fatigue, and ineptitude, our bad attitude and frustration and lay it down under his wing. He promises to replace it with joy, with perspective and hope, with love and strength that can only come from Him. It's only when we realize that we have nothing left to give that he can transform our mourning into dancing, our tears into laughter and our weakness into strength. He is sitting and waiting. All we have to do is come.
God wants so much to draw us to Himself. This is what the gospel reading is about today. Christ uses the simile of a hen drawing her chicks under her wing, so does he want to draw us to Himself. What a funny image. A robust, full breasted-hen, full of warmth and love just trying to pull her little aimless chicks to under her wing, because she knows that she can keep them safe, she can shield them from the fox that might be prowling, or the wind and the rain that might weaken their tiny constitutions. But what does Christ say in the same breath? "You were not willing." He longs to bring us to Himself but we just won't come. We know what's best, we have a better idea, we're pretty sure we're already doing what he asks anyway.
I saw this play out in perfect form about 30 minutes ago when my almost four-year-old wouldn't obey me. She is a magnificent little lady with all kinds of personality and ideas and a stubborn streak to rival her mother's. She is a tom-boy princess in the midst of five brothers constantly striving to make her own way...and she's only 4! And for some reason, she burns my fuse faster than any of my boys ever have (that's probably a topic for another post: why our relationships with our daughters can be so challenging). She was in her room, I went in to hold her and tell her she should come out and asked her the question I always do "what did you do wrong." Suddenly, she recoiled, sat back, crossed her arms and said "I don't know." So I asked again, "you can tell mommy, what did you do wrong?" Now she says "I want you to say it." This goes on for a minute or so until she decides naming her sin is not worth her freedom and so there she sits. She's not afraid of me, she knows I love her, she knows I will forgive her, but there she sits.
I do this all the time with God. He reaches out to me, knowing what's best for me, knowing how to protect and love me and I decide that I would rather sit in my room on my bed because being in his presence can cause me to look deeper into myself and maybe I don't want to do that yet. Or, being in his presence makes me realize how much I really need Him, ALL the time and I still want to think that I can do it on my own.
The funny thing is I know enough to know that I cannot do it without Him. I am the first one to admit that I need Him everyday to make me loving, and patient and kind. But saying I need Him, and actually allowing Him to help are two very different things. Saying I need him when all is calm is easy, makes me sound holy even, but allowing him to help me when the two-year-old and the three-year-old are screaming and violently tugging back and forth with some toy that suddenly is worth their lives, while the five-year-old yells at the eight-year-old to let him pick the cartoon, but the nine-year-old knows better so he just usurps the remote and makes a decision that makes everyone angry, all the while I am just trying to pee with the door closed. Oh and does anyone hear the baby because I'm pretty sure he's screaming too. Out of the protection of his wing, these moments will make me crazy, make me yell or even cry, but in the shadow of his wing I find the patience, the perspective and the humor to deal with the chaos. Sometimes a nice cocktail at the end of the night helps too.
When I woke up this morning all I could think about was how tired I was and how much more tired I was going to be tomorrow. Because today we have costumes and candy and door to door madness with 7 children followed by an early morning and more costumes and saint reports and saint parties. But when will I learn that all God is really asking is for us to draw near. Bring our burdens and our impatience, our fatigue, and ineptitude, our bad attitude and frustration and lay it down under his wing. He promises to replace it with joy, with perspective and hope, with love and strength that can only come from Him. It's only when we realize that we have nothing left to give that he can transform our mourning into dancing, our tears into laughter and our weakness into strength. He is sitting and waiting. All we have to do is come.
Monday, September 30, 2013
The Fine Line Between Motivation and Bribery
Parenting comes with lots of surprises. We've all found ourselves doing things we swore we would never do; eating our own words as we stick a lollipop in a 2 year-old's mouth, or turn the TV on for just one more show so we can finish the dishes, or dinner, or a thought.
But what about the arsenal of bribes...I mean motivators we have in our back pockets? Every parent has a few. The things you use when you really need results. Here are a few of my favorites and the miraculous results they can produce.
The Dum-Dum: I have high-risk pregnancies, and I am always pregnant, which means I am always at the doctor. My high-risk OB's office brilliantly places a giant jar of Dum-Dum's at the check-out desk. I love the Dum-Dum. It's small but big enough that a three-year-old can't just bite it and be done. It doesn't have anything in the middle, and it requires them to keep their mouth CLOSED to eat it. Brilliant. The kids know that when we leave, Miss Cindy will ask me if they can have one and they know to get it they have to be still, and reasonably quiet and good. It's power is magical. The cons of the Dum-Dum are it's stickiness and the tendency for the sticks to be found days later permanently affixed to the floor of your car...still worth it.
Ice Cream: This is a big one in our family. Ice cream will get extra chores done, dinner eaten, it will cause toddlers to find their dignity and use a toilet. Kids will do almost anything for ice cream! I wish something motivated me as much as ice cream motivates my kids. Sleep...maybe that's it; I would do almost anything if someone promised me uninterrupted sleep as my reward. But I digress. Ice cream can be varying in it's level of reward. For something small like your four-year-old finally eating all his broccoli without throwing up: two scoops out of the ice cream in the freezer. The 2nd grader who gets an A+ on his history test when you know it's his hardest subject: everyone goes to McDonald's for a cone. The three-year-old who finally, after months of tears and begging (on your part) poops in the potty: Frozen Yogurt for everyone with all the toppings you want and we'll even go the place that has the Ipods and let you play on them! This gets the whole family involved; you've never seen a nine-year-old so concerned with his little brother's toilet habits as you will when ice cream is on the line.
Sprite or a Juice Box: As with all motivators you have to walk the fine line between appropriate use and over-use. We used to have juice all the time, until I finally admitted to myself it has no real nutritional value, it's bad for their teeth and it's too dang expensive for 7 kids to be sucking it down all day long. Now I have the juice box. I'll buy one $2.00 pack of Capri-Suns and hide them. Then when I know it's going to be a rough day, or we have tons of errands to run I will present it as their prize. Suddenly, toys are getting put away, the five-year-old's putting shoes on the two-year-old, somebody's pouring my coffee while they do the dishes and thaw out the dinner for the evening....well maybe it doesn't produce that much cooperation, but it's close. For my big kids it's a Sprite, even better if they get the can, like the can is some golden goblet of triumph, they walk around saying "I'm going to get a whole Sprite, mom said I can drink it out of the can." This is also how they know there's a special occasion, a birthday party or a baptism. They'll see Sprite or Juice in the fridge and immediately ask "hey mom, whose coming over for dinner?"
Pizza: Ah, pizza. Remember when you liked pizza? Remember when you even craved it sometimes? Kids ruin pizza for us because we end up eating it way more than we want and way more than we should. There have certainly been times when we have abused this motivator to the point where it has lost all it's motivating power. This is usually when I am 8+ months pregnant and the thought of making dinner, especially on the weekends, makes me curl up into a ball and start crying so my husband quickly smiles and says "maybe we should just get pizza for dinner?" I have a few very picky eaters but they in particular would eat pizza every single meal, every single day forever and be happy. This morning, at 6:30 AM my three-year-old daughter asked me what was for dinner (because I love thinking about dinner while I am making breakfast!) and when I said probably spaghetti, she said "moooom. I don't want bisgetti, I only want pizza." Therein lies it's miraculous power. Unfortunately, pizza is pretty terrible for us, but if it were healthy, they wouldn't want it.
What are your go-to motivators? I stress that I do not like to think of them as bribes which may just be a game of semantics, but the word "bribe" makes me feel like such a bad parent. We're just teaching them that hard work and obedience should be rewarded, that sometimes we do things we don't really like so that we can enjoy something we love. We try to weave in all the virtue and character stuff too, I promise, but sometimes life is messy and you just need to get four kids in and out of the pediatrician's office without getting flagged by CPS, so you load your purse with DUM-DUM's, tell them you'll get pizza for lunch, and make sure you have ice cream in the freezer.
But what about the arsenal of bribes...I mean motivators we have in our back pockets? Every parent has a few. The things you use when you really need results. Here are a few of my favorites and the miraculous results they can produce.
The Dum-Dum: I have high-risk pregnancies, and I am always pregnant, which means I am always at the doctor. My high-risk OB's office brilliantly places a giant jar of Dum-Dum's at the check-out desk. I love the Dum-Dum. It's small but big enough that a three-year-old can't just bite it and be done. It doesn't have anything in the middle, and it requires them to keep their mouth CLOSED to eat it. Brilliant. The kids know that when we leave, Miss Cindy will ask me if they can have one and they know to get it they have to be still, and reasonably quiet and good. It's power is magical. The cons of the Dum-Dum are it's stickiness and the tendency for the sticks to be found days later permanently affixed to the floor of your car...still worth it.
Ice Cream: This is a big one in our family. Ice cream will get extra chores done, dinner eaten, it will cause toddlers to find their dignity and use a toilet. Kids will do almost anything for ice cream! I wish something motivated me as much as ice cream motivates my kids. Sleep...maybe that's it; I would do almost anything if someone promised me uninterrupted sleep as my reward. But I digress. Ice cream can be varying in it's level of reward. For something small like your four-year-old finally eating all his broccoli without throwing up: two scoops out of the ice cream in the freezer. The 2nd grader who gets an A+ on his history test when you know it's his hardest subject: everyone goes to McDonald's for a cone. The three-year-old who finally, after months of tears and begging (on your part) poops in the potty: Frozen Yogurt for everyone with all the toppings you want and we'll even go the place that has the Ipods and let you play on them! This gets the whole family involved; you've never seen a nine-year-old so concerned with his little brother's toilet habits as you will when ice cream is on the line.
Sprite or a Juice Box: As with all motivators you have to walk the fine line between appropriate use and over-use. We used to have juice all the time, until I finally admitted to myself it has no real nutritional value, it's bad for their teeth and it's too dang expensive for 7 kids to be sucking it down all day long. Now I have the juice box. I'll buy one $2.00 pack of Capri-Suns and hide them. Then when I know it's going to be a rough day, or we have tons of errands to run I will present it as their prize. Suddenly, toys are getting put away, the five-year-old's putting shoes on the two-year-old, somebody's pouring my coffee while they do the dishes and thaw out the dinner for the evening....well maybe it doesn't produce that much cooperation, but it's close. For my big kids it's a Sprite, even better if they get the can, like the can is some golden goblet of triumph, they walk around saying "I'm going to get a whole Sprite, mom said I can drink it out of the can." This is also how they know there's a special occasion, a birthday party or a baptism. They'll see Sprite or Juice in the fridge and immediately ask "hey mom, whose coming over for dinner?"
Pizza: Ah, pizza. Remember when you liked pizza? Remember when you even craved it sometimes? Kids ruin pizza for us because we end up eating it way more than we want and way more than we should. There have certainly been times when we have abused this motivator to the point where it has lost all it's motivating power. This is usually when I am 8+ months pregnant and the thought of making dinner, especially on the weekends, makes me curl up into a ball and start crying so my husband quickly smiles and says "maybe we should just get pizza for dinner?" I have a few very picky eaters but they in particular would eat pizza every single meal, every single day forever and be happy. This morning, at 6:30 AM my three-year-old daughter asked me what was for dinner (because I love thinking about dinner while I am making breakfast!) and when I said probably spaghetti, she said "moooom. I don't want bisgetti, I only want pizza." Therein lies it's miraculous power. Unfortunately, pizza is pretty terrible for us, but if it were healthy, they wouldn't want it.
What are your go-to motivators? I stress that I do not like to think of them as bribes which may just be a game of semantics, but the word "bribe" makes me feel like such a bad parent. We're just teaching them that hard work and obedience should be rewarded, that sometimes we do things we don't really like so that we can enjoy something we love. We try to weave in all the virtue and character stuff too, I promise, but sometimes life is messy and you just need to get four kids in and out of the pediatrician's office without getting flagged by CPS, so you load your purse with DUM-DUM's, tell them you'll get pizza for lunch, and make sure you have ice cream in the freezer.
Thursday, September 19, 2013
Who has time to pray?
I was thinking back recently, to when I had two children (I deliberately did not say "only" two children, because there is no such thing as "only" when it comes to children: it is ALL hard work and we are often overwhelmed at every stage). I was remembering how much guilt I used to heap on myself, well about everything, but especially about my spiritual life.
Motherhood comes with a ton of pressure, most of which we put on ourselves and when we fall short of the goals we have set, whether we have set them ourselves or have allowed "society" to set them for us, we tend to feel paralyzed by guilt and self-ridicule.
The great irony is that a close relationship with God can save us from all this unnecessary guilt but then when we consider what that entails and the sheer time and energy it will take we're right back to feeling guilty and helpless and now like a loser because we can't even make time for God!
The good news is God knows better than anyone how hard our job is. He is the only one that is with us, in the trenches, all the time. He sees the sleepless nights, the endless line of poopy diapers, the endless noise (happy noise, angry noise, siblings-fighting-again noise), the unclean house, the insistent need for dinner (every.single.night!) even the frustration of not recognizing ourselves in the mirror because these baby humans have ruined the packaging. And yet he does call us to pray, he calls us closer to himself and he offers great rewards for those who draw close to him.
So what are we supposed to do? Let the children run crazy, ignore the dishes, stuff the homework back in the backpack and live a life of contemplative prayer? Unfortunately, no. Although sometimes that sounds super appealing. God did not call you to be a nun or a consecrated he called you to be a mom. Now, I in no way claim to be an expert on spiritual things but here are a few things I've learned in this decade of parenting with my numbers every and rapidly increasing that just might help you if you find yourself wondering "how and when am I supposed to make time to pray!?"
1. Prayer does not have to be contemplative: I think people often envision prayer one of two ways either contemplatively reciting prayers like the Rosary or the Divine Mercy, or seriously storming the gates of heaven with intense personal prayer for your needs and the needs of others. As Catholics we are more inclined to envision the former but I grew up Protestant so there's still a lot of the latter in me too. The truth is there is a place for this kind of prayer and it is necessary and powerful but we don't always have the time or the means to say a whole Rosary (without falling asleep) or to focus long enough on prayer intentions to articulate what it is we are even asking of God. So if this is what's keeping you from praying don't pray like this! Instead:
* Say one Hail Mary every time you change a diaper
* Find a phrase or mantra at the beginning of the day and say it whenever you are frustrated, angry, happy or driving. I often use "Jesus I trust in you," or "May the work of my hands glorify God today."
* Listen to Christian Music or Catholic Radio in the car or while doing things around house. It often just helps remind you why you're doing all this in the first place.
2. Gratitude is a Prayer: Prayer is simply talking to God, staying connected to Him, reminding yourself that you are not alone. Thankfulness is a powerful virtue. Throughout the day we are faced with dozens of choices to be positive or negative, angry or patient, harsh or gentle and we will not always make the right decision. I find in the moments when I making all the wrong decisions that it does my soul some good to start listing what I am grateful for. You can do it on paper, out loud, with your children or in your head but just start thinking of things you are grateful for. The magical thing about gratitude is that it's contagious, it begets more gratitude. When my kids are fighting with each other I make the one who was wronged say 3 things they are grateful for about the other. Then the guilty party has to reciprocate. Now sometimes it takes forever to get anything out of them and sometimes they take the easy way out and say "I am thankful he has me for a brother," but every once in a while you see it redirect the anger, the frustration, and reminds them that they take their siblings for granted. This is a good exercise for everyone in our lives but especially for those closest to us.
3. Our life is a prayer: I know this sounds so deep and super spiritual but it's not really. God gave us life and we have decided to give it back to him, to ask him to guide and direct us to lead us to himself. The vocation he has given us will be our path to heaven. So every day when I wake up and think that I just can't do it today I am reminded that he gave me this life, these children, this income, this body, all that I have is a gift from him and he will give me the grace to manage it all (I especially think of the working mother who carries the burden of her children's formation and uses her gifts in the world. This is NOT easy). Some days we don't feel grateful, we're too busy trying to keep the two-year-old out of the babies poopy diaper that it doesn't occur to us to say a prayer while doing it and we just feel so tired, so worn and constantly needed in a way that exhausts us, and we can't get past how hard it is. This is when you make the everyday action and minutia of your day a prayer. You offer it up to the Lord and say "this is all I have, this will have to do." He will honor that offering because he is our Shepherd and he promised that we will not want.
4. Pray for Others: As women we tend to go crazy comparing ourselves to other people...or at least I do! One thing I have tried doing in the last year or so is when I find myself comparing my life to someone else's because it looks so stinkin' perfect I want to puke, I stop and pray for them. Most of the time I am not entirely sure what to pray for but I just quickly ask God to meet them where they are, in the struggles and sufferings they are facing at the moment and that he give them the desires of their heart. The problem with comparing is that we never really know what's going on in people's lives. The mom in carpool who weighs 90lbs soaking wet even though she just had a baby 3 weeks ago, driving her beautiful normal sized car, bringing home made cupcakes to school and volunteering on the auction committee may look like she has it all together but only God can see the real struggles of her heart. We give the victory to our divisive enemy when we let ourselves judge her or feel sorry for ourselves because we seem to have less. It goes both ways of course. We can also compare ourselves to other people to make ourselves feel better. I try to pray harder for those people and remember that all that we have that is good is a gift from God.
5. Get the Saints involved: One of my favorite things about being Catholic is the beautiful teaching on the communion of the saints. Ask them to pray for you. Find a saint you identify with and talk to them throughout the day. Talk to your guardian angel and ask him or her to bring your needs to the foot of the cross when you just can't. Let their lives, their example, and their humanity be an encouragement to you. They remind us that we are not alone and more importantly that we are not made for this world.
6. Offer it up: This is one of those things I used to hear all the time when I was converting and never really understood. Is it a fancy Catholic way of saying your suffering is not in vain. Your sufferings, big and small are a form of intercession, a form of prayer. Think about Christ on the cross; he endured the ultimate suffering and he did it for our souls. Because he did that, we can suffer with Christ for the souls of others. The wonderful part about this is that Christ is not picky about what we consider suffering. Suffering is a funny thing, and often very relative to a person's individual experience and temperament. Of course there are the big ones, like death and cancer, terminally ill children. abusive spouse and so on. But your daily sufferings can be offered up as well. Your child who won't stop screaming, the endless work of laundry and dinner, your loneliness during the day, your desire to do more outside of the home all of it can be offered up. And we can get specific: offer up every moment when I want to scream at my kids for the children in the world that are abused. Offer up the burden of cooking, for the hungry. You get the picture. This is a beautiful way to allow Our Lord to refine us and it draws us out of ourselves, brings perspective, and most importantly allows us to understand the heart of a loving God. He never asks us to endure that which we cannot handle and often the big trials are bigger then ourselves. He wants us to combine our suffering with prayer to change our lives and the lives of others.
Basically when Paul told the Thessalonians to pray without ceasing he meant we are to live a life of prayer and that can be done myriad of ways. Hopefully some if this helps. If nothing else it reminds me what God has taught me over the years...now I just have to go live it!
Motherhood comes with a ton of pressure, most of which we put on ourselves and when we fall short of the goals we have set, whether we have set them ourselves or have allowed "society" to set them for us, we tend to feel paralyzed by guilt and self-ridicule.
The great irony is that a close relationship with God can save us from all this unnecessary guilt but then when we consider what that entails and the sheer time and energy it will take we're right back to feeling guilty and helpless and now like a loser because we can't even make time for God!
The good news is God knows better than anyone how hard our job is. He is the only one that is with us, in the trenches, all the time. He sees the sleepless nights, the endless line of poopy diapers, the endless noise (happy noise, angry noise, siblings-fighting-again noise), the unclean house, the insistent need for dinner (every.single.night!) even the frustration of not recognizing ourselves in the mirror because these baby humans have ruined the packaging. And yet he does call us to pray, he calls us closer to himself and he offers great rewards for those who draw close to him.
So what are we supposed to do? Let the children run crazy, ignore the dishes, stuff the homework back in the backpack and live a life of contemplative prayer? Unfortunately, no. Although sometimes that sounds super appealing. God did not call you to be a nun or a consecrated he called you to be a mom. Now, I in no way claim to be an expert on spiritual things but here are a few things I've learned in this decade of parenting with my numbers every and rapidly increasing that just might help you if you find yourself wondering "how and when am I supposed to make time to pray!?"
1. Prayer does not have to be contemplative: I think people often envision prayer one of two ways either contemplatively reciting prayers like the Rosary or the Divine Mercy, or seriously storming the gates of heaven with intense personal prayer for your needs and the needs of others. As Catholics we are more inclined to envision the former but I grew up Protestant so there's still a lot of the latter in me too. The truth is there is a place for this kind of prayer and it is necessary and powerful but we don't always have the time or the means to say a whole Rosary (without falling asleep) or to focus long enough on prayer intentions to articulate what it is we are even asking of God. So if this is what's keeping you from praying don't pray like this! Instead:
* Say one Hail Mary every time you change a diaper
* Find a phrase or mantra at the beginning of the day and say it whenever you are frustrated, angry, happy or driving. I often use "Jesus I trust in you," or "May the work of my hands glorify God today."
* Listen to Christian Music or Catholic Radio in the car or while doing things around house. It often just helps remind you why you're doing all this in the first place.
2. Gratitude is a Prayer: Prayer is simply talking to God, staying connected to Him, reminding yourself that you are not alone. Thankfulness is a powerful virtue. Throughout the day we are faced with dozens of choices to be positive or negative, angry or patient, harsh or gentle and we will not always make the right decision. I find in the moments when I making all the wrong decisions that it does my soul some good to start listing what I am grateful for. You can do it on paper, out loud, with your children or in your head but just start thinking of things you are grateful for. The magical thing about gratitude is that it's contagious, it begets more gratitude. When my kids are fighting with each other I make the one who was wronged say 3 things they are grateful for about the other. Then the guilty party has to reciprocate. Now sometimes it takes forever to get anything out of them and sometimes they take the easy way out and say "I am thankful he has me for a brother," but every once in a while you see it redirect the anger, the frustration, and reminds them that they take their siblings for granted. This is a good exercise for everyone in our lives but especially for those closest to us.
3. Our life is a prayer: I know this sounds so deep and super spiritual but it's not really. God gave us life and we have decided to give it back to him, to ask him to guide and direct us to lead us to himself. The vocation he has given us will be our path to heaven. So every day when I wake up and think that I just can't do it today I am reminded that he gave me this life, these children, this income, this body, all that I have is a gift from him and he will give me the grace to manage it all (I especially think of the working mother who carries the burden of her children's formation and uses her gifts in the world. This is NOT easy). Some days we don't feel grateful, we're too busy trying to keep the two-year-old out of the babies poopy diaper that it doesn't occur to us to say a prayer while doing it and we just feel so tired, so worn and constantly needed in a way that exhausts us, and we can't get past how hard it is. This is when you make the everyday action and minutia of your day a prayer. You offer it up to the Lord and say "this is all I have, this will have to do." He will honor that offering because he is our Shepherd and he promised that we will not want.
4. Pray for Others: As women we tend to go crazy comparing ourselves to other people...or at least I do! One thing I have tried doing in the last year or so is when I find myself comparing my life to someone else's because it looks so stinkin' perfect I want to puke, I stop and pray for them. Most of the time I am not entirely sure what to pray for but I just quickly ask God to meet them where they are, in the struggles and sufferings they are facing at the moment and that he give them the desires of their heart. The problem with comparing is that we never really know what's going on in people's lives. The mom in carpool who weighs 90lbs soaking wet even though she just had a baby 3 weeks ago, driving her beautiful normal sized car, bringing home made cupcakes to school and volunteering on the auction committee may look like she has it all together but only God can see the real struggles of her heart. We give the victory to our divisive enemy when we let ourselves judge her or feel sorry for ourselves because we seem to have less. It goes both ways of course. We can also compare ourselves to other people to make ourselves feel better. I try to pray harder for those people and remember that all that we have that is good is a gift from God.
5. Get the Saints involved: One of my favorite things about being Catholic is the beautiful teaching on the communion of the saints. Ask them to pray for you. Find a saint you identify with and talk to them throughout the day. Talk to your guardian angel and ask him or her to bring your needs to the foot of the cross when you just can't. Let their lives, their example, and their humanity be an encouragement to you. They remind us that we are not alone and more importantly that we are not made for this world.
6. Offer it up: This is one of those things I used to hear all the time when I was converting and never really understood. Is it a fancy Catholic way of saying your suffering is not in vain. Your sufferings, big and small are a form of intercession, a form of prayer. Think about Christ on the cross; he endured the ultimate suffering and he did it for our souls. Because he did that, we can suffer with Christ for the souls of others. The wonderful part about this is that Christ is not picky about what we consider suffering. Suffering is a funny thing, and often very relative to a person's individual experience and temperament. Of course there are the big ones, like death and cancer, terminally ill children. abusive spouse and so on. But your daily sufferings can be offered up as well. Your child who won't stop screaming, the endless work of laundry and dinner, your loneliness during the day, your desire to do more outside of the home all of it can be offered up. And we can get specific: offer up every moment when I want to scream at my kids for the children in the world that are abused. Offer up the burden of cooking, for the hungry. You get the picture. This is a beautiful way to allow Our Lord to refine us and it draws us out of ourselves, brings perspective, and most importantly allows us to understand the heart of a loving God. He never asks us to endure that which we cannot handle and often the big trials are bigger then ourselves. He wants us to combine our suffering with prayer to change our lives and the lives of others.
Basically when Paul told the Thessalonians to pray without ceasing he meant we are to live a life of prayer and that can be done myriad of ways. Hopefully some if this helps. If nothing else it reminds me what God has taught me over the years...now I just have to go live it!
Sunday, August 25, 2013
Cookies and a Haircut
It was a normal Thursday at 2:00. My three-year-old was finished with her rest time (where once again she didn't fall asleep despite my intense prayer) and we were looking to fill the hour before we would have to wake her two brothers and put them in the car for our daily exercise in patience they call the "car-pool line."
I was particularly exhausted, fighting off a migraine and trying to caffeinate myself into coherence after 2 nights of very little sleep. I asked my daughter what she would like to do (hoping she'd say she wants to lie down and watch me sleep) and she asks if we can make cookies.
"Sure," I say, I figure that will fill the hour nicely enough and then we can hand out cookies in the carpool line (because if we keep them in the house I will eat them all and I am already almost out of points for the day even though all I have eaten is twigs and berries, oh and I somehow gained 3lbs this morning even though I have been adhering strictly to my diet and exercising 5 days a week for almost a month....but I digress, this post is not about my post partum woes of untangible weight loss) and she will have a lovely memory of making cookies all by herself with mommy.
So we get the mixer out and start filling it with ingredients and as always I have to suppress my tendency to want everything done perfectly and allow my little girl to measure inaccurately and make a mess while doing it (this is when the eye-twitching usually starts). I also decide I should go ahead and get dinner started so I am browning meat for Shepherd's Pie while monitoring the cookie-making. Everything is going fine and we just have one ingredient to add to the dough. The mixer is mixing for us and Sophia is on a stool watching in delight as it spins sugar and butter and flour around and around. She asks if she can please have a taste now. I am not exactly sure what happened next. I am about 3 feet away at the stove-top stirring the meat, I can see her out of the corner of my eye, but the next thing I know I hear blood-curdling screams coming from my baby girl and before I can even figure out what is happening her head is flush with the mixer and her sweet little pig-tail (that I forced her to let me put in that morning) is completely wrapped in the gear above the attachment.
As quickly as I can I unplug the machine, but it's too late, her head is forced tightly against the attachment and she cannot move. She is, of course, terrified, and I am attempting to soothe her and tell her it's okay but very quickly she and I both realize that it is NOT okay. I put a towel under her cheek and tell her to rest her head on the counter saying "whatever you do don't try to get off of the stool, and try to stay very still for mommy." I say this in the calmest voice possible as I try to ignore the flashes of horror I see in my mind's eye: her jumping off the stool and scalping herself, or falling off of the stool and the heavy heavy mixer falling on top of her.
Then I just start talking to Jesus "Okay Lord, what do I do....I don't know what to do..." and I start running through my options in my mind "I could call the police...no that's ridiculous this is not that kind of emergency. I could call the fire department, they're good in weird emergencies, is this an emergency? What would they do...they would cut her out of it...NO I can't cut her hair there has to be another way....I wish Adam was here, why did we decide to make cookies! I should have just let her watch TV, this never would have happened if we were watching TV." I keep trying to figure out a way to just get the darn attachment off but it won't budge because it's too close to her scalp and I have no room to turn it to get if off. Meanwhile every time I move her head even a little she just screams and cries and says Mommy-ow-ow-ow-ow-ow, and my heart is physically hurting and I want to go back two minutes and be standing right next to her and prevent the whole stupid thing from ever happening. "Jesus, what do I do, I don't know what to do..." Then out of the mouths of babes, my sweet, terrified little three-year-old girl says "Mommy, find some scissors, gramma has scissors, get the scissors!" (my mother lives with us and cuts the kids' hair) I hadn't said anything about scissors, although of course it had occurred to me and I knew that's where we were headed but I was trying to find any other way, so the Holy Spirit had to resort to using my little girl, stuck under the iron grip of the Kitchen Aid mixer to wake me up to the fact that it's only hair and it will grow back. Thankfully there was a pair of scissors where they belong (miracle of miracles because no one ever puts them back where they belong) in the drawer in front of her. I grabbed them reluctantly and with my eyes half closed started cutting her sweet little pig tail out of the mixer. Chunks of fine, blonde hair started falling onto the ground, chunks of hair started coming out in my hand and it felt like an eternity, but finally she pulled her head free from the heavy, white monster.
I picked her up and we sat on the floor together and cried and cried. All I could do was kiss her head and tell her I was so sorry. She calmed down quickly and I brought her to the bath where we washed the cookie dough out of her hair and watched more hair fall out in the tub. Next thing I know she is calm and bathed and eating ice cream on the couch, at 2:45 in the afternoon while watching a movie...because she got her hair cut out of a mixer and she can have anything she wants. I called my husband, and as soon as I heard his voice I became somewhat hysterical, reliving the whole maddening event, and I inform him that he is going to have to please get the kids from school because we have been through too much here, and I cannot possibly get in the car and sit in that dreaded carpool line.
Miraculously her hair doesn't look that bad. She has a lot of hair so there's a small bald spot and a chunk that's about 2 inches short and then some random strands 4-6 inches long in the back, but if I comb it just right you can't even tell. Of course it wouldn't matter if her hair looked terrible because she is safe and unhurt and nothing worse happened to her...but she is one little girl in the middle of 5 little boys and she refuses to wear dresses, or skirts and wants to play T-ball this season instead of take dance, and the one thing I have is that sweet braid-able hair! ( Just a small caveat: If you are someone experiencing true suffering and sacrifice with your little girl please know that I realize this was not real suffering and her tufts of hair do not represent real loss, and I thank God everyday for the health of my children)
So I suppose there is a moral to this story. Perhaps it is to not be so busy browning meat while making cookies that you do not see the pig-tail on it's way into the monstrous grip of the machine making cookies for you. Perhaps it is to be present to every moment, even the bad ones. Or perhaps when exhausted and in pain and trying to decide between watching a movie with your kid or making cookies you should pick the movie every time. Needless to say, Sophia is a bit terrified of the Kitchen Aid now, and it may take some time and therapy to get her to be mommy's little helper ever again.
I was particularly exhausted, fighting off a migraine and trying to caffeinate myself into coherence after 2 nights of very little sleep. I asked my daughter what she would like to do (hoping she'd say she wants to lie down and watch me sleep) and she asks if we can make cookies.
"Sure," I say, I figure that will fill the hour nicely enough and then we can hand out cookies in the carpool line (because if we keep them in the house I will eat them all and I am already almost out of points for the day even though all I have eaten is twigs and berries, oh and I somehow gained 3lbs this morning even though I have been adhering strictly to my diet and exercising 5 days a week for almost a month....but I digress, this post is not about my post partum woes of untangible weight loss) and she will have a lovely memory of making cookies all by herself with mommy.
So we get the mixer out and start filling it with ingredients and as always I have to suppress my tendency to want everything done perfectly and allow my little girl to measure inaccurately and make a mess while doing it (this is when the eye-twitching usually starts). I also decide I should go ahead and get dinner started so I am browning meat for Shepherd's Pie while monitoring the cookie-making. Everything is going fine and we just have one ingredient to add to the dough. The mixer is mixing for us and Sophia is on a stool watching in delight as it spins sugar and butter and flour around and around. She asks if she can please have a taste now. I am not exactly sure what happened next. I am about 3 feet away at the stove-top stirring the meat, I can see her out of the corner of my eye, but the next thing I know I hear blood-curdling screams coming from my baby girl and before I can even figure out what is happening her head is flush with the mixer and her sweet little pig-tail (that I forced her to let me put in that morning) is completely wrapped in the gear above the attachment.
As quickly as I can I unplug the machine, but it's too late, her head is forced tightly against the attachment and she cannot move. She is, of course, terrified, and I am attempting to soothe her and tell her it's okay but very quickly she and I both realize that it is NOT okay. I put a towel under her cheek and tell her to rest her head on the counter saying "whatever you do don't try to get off of the stool, and try to stay very still for mommy." I say this in the calmest voice possible as I try to ignore the flashes of horror I see in my mind's eye: her jumping off the stool and scalping herself, or falling off of the stool and the heavy heavy mixer falling on top of her.
Then I just start talking to Jesus "Okay Lord, what do I do....I don't know what to do..." and I start running through my options in my mind "I could call the police...no that's ridiculous this is not that kind of emergency. I could call the fire department, they're good in weird emergencies, is this an emergency? What would they do...they would cut her out of it...NO I can't cut her hair there has to be another way....I wish Adam was here, why did we decide to make cookies! I should have just let her watch TV, this never would have happened if we were watching TV." I keep trying to figure out a way to just get the darn attachment off but it won't budge because it's too close to her scalp and I have no room to turn it to get if off. Meanwhile every time I move her head even a little she just screams and cries and says Mommy-ow-ow-ow-ow-ow, and my heart is physically hurting and I want to go back two minutes and be standing right next to her and prevent the whole stupid thing from ever happening. "Jesus, what do I do, I don't know what to do..." Then out of the mouths of babes, my sweet, terrified little three-year-old girl says "Mommy, find some scissors, gramma has scissors, get the scissors!" (my mother lives with us and cuts the kids' hair) I hadn't said anything about scissors, although of course it had occurred to me and I knew that's where we were headed but I was trying to find any other way, so the Holy Spirit had to resort to using my little girl, stuck under the iron grip of the Kitchen Aid mixer to wake me up to the fact that it's only hair and it will grow back. Thankfully there was a pair of scissors where they belong (miracle of miracles because no one ever puts them back where they belong) in the drawer in front of her. I grabbed them reluctantly and with my eyes half closed started cutting her sweet little pig tail out of the mixer. Chunks of fine, blonde hair started falling onto the ground, chunks of hair started coming out in my hand and it felt like an eternity, but finally she pulled her head free from the heavy, white monster.
I picked her up and we sat on the floor together and cried and cried. All I could do was kiss her head and tell her I was so sorry. She calmed down quickly and I brought her to the bath where we washed the cookie dough out of her hair and watched more hair fall out in the tub. Next thing I know she is calm and bathed and eating ice cream on the couch, at 2:45 in the afternoon while watching a movie...because she got her hair cut out of a mixer and she can have anything she wants. I called my husband, and as soon as I heard his voice I became somewhat hysterical, reliving the whole maddening event, and I inform him that he is going to have to please get the kids from school because we have been through too much here, and I cannot possibly get in the car and sit in that dreaded carpool line.
Miraculously her hair doesn't look that bad. She has a lot of hair so there's a small bald spot and a chunk that's about 2 inches short and then some random strands 4-6 inches long in the back, but if I comb it just right you can't even tell. Of course it wouldn't matter if her hair looked terrible because she is safe and unhurt and nothing worse happened to her...but she is one little girl in the middle of 5 little boys and she refuses to wear dresses, or skirts and wants to play T-ball this season instead of take dance, and the one thing I have is that sweet braid-able hair! ( Just a small caveat: If you are someone experiencing true suffering and sacrifice with your little girl please know that I realize this was not real suffering and her tufts of hair do not represent real loss, and I thank God everyday for the health of my children)
So I suppose there is a moral to this story. Perhaps it is to not be so busy browning meat while making cookies that you do not see the pig-tail on it's way into the monstrous grip of the machine making cookies for you. Perhaps it is to be present to every moment, even the bad ones. Or perhaps when exhausted and in pain and trying to decide between watching a movie with your kid or making cookies you should pick the movie every time. Needless to say, Sophia is a bit terrified of the Kitchen Aid now, and it may take some time and therapy to get her to be mommy's little helper ever again.
Tuesday, August 20, 2013
The Best Laid Plans
It's been a while since I've written anything on my blog. This is a gross understatement since it's been over a year!
There are myriad of reasons why I stopped, one being that I had a long discussion about blogs one night with some good friends (most or none of whom knew I blogged) and everyone's general opinion of the practice was that it was narcissistic, irresponsible and embarrassing...at least most of the time, ha! So that rang in my head a bit.
However, while I was consistent with the practice I had so many people encourage me and ask me to write more so that wasn't really all it was.
I got pregnant. That's really what happened. After posts about the beauty of the Church's teaching and my gratitude for NFP, even if sometimes it meant hiding naked in my closet I found myself unexpectedly, you've-got-to-be-kidding-me pregnant.
I avoiding writing because I was not in a great place. I was angry, I was sad, I was confused. I wanted more children but there were so many reasons why it was not a good time. It wasn't my time. My health is not great and we had been determined to get things under control before the next baby. My husband is a teacher so needless to say we're not exactly stock piling college funds for the 6 we already have and I was watching my husband work three jobs most of the time still wondering how he could "really" provide for us. Then there's the issue of the six souls I am faced with forming, nurturing, getting to heaven!
It made good sense to wait a while. This was also the consensus of practically everyone we know as well, especially family and those closest to us in our lives.
But there it was, big fat positive test. Big fat lying chart. I won't walk you through the whole grueling experience but let's just say I wasn't really okay about this baby until he got here.
The pregnancy was brutal, as all of them have been in their own way. But some of the wonderfully placed priests and spiritual leaders in my life encouraged me over and over (like once a week as I cried in the confessional!) that God had a plan, that all His plans are good, and that everything was going to be okay. My spiritual director just kept telling me to offer up every part of the suffering, emotional and physical for some intention or intentions; that God cannot ignore the cries of His children, especially when he has called them to suffer, and there is power in sacrificial prayer.
So many good things came out of this season of my life. The best of which is of course the baby that we now cannot even imagine for one second living our lives without. But as always God gives so much more than we deserve. Here are just a few other things he gave me in the process:
Compassion: I love babies. Up to this point I had always gotten pregnant deliberately and convinced myself it was my idea. Finding myself pregnant when I felt I had no resources to handle it: physically, emotionally, financially, made me feel so much compassion for women who find themselves in this situation everyday. It made me realize that I had always been too judgmental about woman who consider or go through with abortion. I did not consider an abortion but I sure as hell understood how a woman alone, afraid and unformed who has not been taught the real value of a life, and the goodness of a forgiving God could convince herself that abortion is the answer. I began to pray for those women in a way I had never been able to before.
Perspective: This one took awhile but eventually I was able to see not only the great gift of this life but the lives of all these little people running around screaming and messing up my house. Not that I had never thought of them as gifts before but the word "gift" began to change for me. With the "planned" babies we felt somehow responsible: "look at us so open to life; we love God's gifts." But this little guy was not our idea. But isn't that what a gift really is? An unexpected, thoughtful, perfect blessing given by someone else. This doesn't mean of course that planning babies is bad, or that spacing babies is bad in fact that can be a beautiful gift in itself as it requires it's own sacrifice, but it does mean that when we say as Catholics that we remain open to life we really mean it. We remain open to the gifts of God whether that be the gift of space and time or the gift of another soul in the kingdom of heaven. This must be the hardest for those who cannot have babies when they want them; something I think must be a much deeper suffering than my own, because it is the constant reminder that life is just that, a gift, not a commodity, not something we pick out for ourselves, something only God can give.
Joy: Every time I am pregnant there are those irreplaceable and indescribable moments when you realize a brand new soul is growing inside of you and moving and breathing and he or she (usually he in my case) will have a vocation, a destiny and the ability to participate in the kingdom of God. Now I'd love to paint the picture that my whole pregnancy is full of this perspective but that would be a lie. This pregnancy brought with it morning (afternoon and evening) sickness. a ridiculously weakened immune system that caught 4 colds, 8 stomach viruses and eventually pneumonia that resulted in a chronic labor-inducing cough. So, most of the time "joy" was not the word I would have used to describe how I felt. Still, the mystery of life was present and with it the gratitude and awe that come when we realize what God is allowing us to participate in it and that is pure joy.
Gratitude and the Power of Prayer: This is the big one. This is where I am now. I am so grateful for the precious, perfect life that came out of God's perfect will in spite of my terrible attitude, in spite of my inability to see God's goodness right away. I followed the advice of my spiritual leaders and offered up every moment of the pregnancy for the intentions of others especially some dear to me who are pleading with God to give them a baby, for the souls of all our children that they would find their way to heaven and (somewhat selfishly) for the temperament of the baby I was carrying. I have two very strong-willed boys, one of whom was only 18 months old when this little guy made his debut and I just knew that I couldn't handle another one. I prayed that the baby would be mellow and sleep, and be easy and happy and delightful to be around. This wasn't necessary of course, God didn't have to answer this prayer but he did. He is by far the easiest baby I have ever had. My second son was really easy too but God went a step further on the mellow vibe with this little guy. I never had to bounce him or walk him to get him to stop crying; he has never cried for more than 2 minutes! He is cheerful and happy ALL the time; will let anyone hold him and sleeps, nurses and eats like a pro. I don't say this to make you hate me (although all you dear mothers of colicky children are allowed to!) but to testify to the sweet goodness of God. He transformed my suffering and my anger and my doubt into a beautiful gift, a gift that looks up at me and melts my heart every day, a gift that brings joy and laughter into our home, a gift that can even make the stubborn 2 year old stop what he is doing and selflessly love his baby brother. A gift that has humbled me, transformed our family forever and shown us the goodness of a loving God.
Everyday I thank God for interrupting our best laid plans. This life he has given us is not easy, it's not supposed to be. We've already started using NFP again, this time with even more determination and caution and I do hope that God gives us more time this time. We know we have a responsibility to these souls and we want to be good stewards, the best we can be and we are grateful to the Church and the minds within it that there are resources available to us that can help us do that. I do not see another baby in our immediate or even distant future but I know more than ever that God is really the one in control and that His ways are not my ways, but His ways are always good.
There are myriad of reasons why I stopped, one being that I had a long discussion about blogs one night with some good friends (most or none of whom knew I blogged) and everyone's general opinion of the practice was that it was narcissistic, irresponsible and embarrassing...at least most of the time, ha! So that rang in my head a bit.
However, while I was consistent with the practice I had so many people encourage me and ask me to write more so that wasn't really all it was.
I got pregnant. That's really what happened. After posts about the beauty of the Church's teaching and my gratitude for NFP, even if sometimes it meant hiding naked in my closet I found myself unexpectedly, you've-got-to-be-kidding-me pregnant.
I avoiding writing because I was not in a great place. I was angry, I was sad, I was confused. I wanted more children but there were so many reasons why it was not a good time. It wasn't my time. My health is not great and we had been determined to get things under control before the next baby. My husband is a teacher so needless to say we're not exactly stock piling college funds for the 6 we already have and I was watching my husband work three jobs most of the time still wondering how he could "really" provide for us. Then there's the issue of the six souls I am faced with forming, nurturing, getting to heaven!
It made good sense to wait a while. This was also the consensus of practically everyone we know as well, especially family and those closest to us in our lives.
But there it was, big fat positive test. Big fat lying chart. I won't walk you through the whole grueling experience but let's just say I wasn't really okay about this baby until he got here.
The pregnancy was brutal, as all of them have been in their own way. But some of the wonderfully placed priests and spiritual leaders in my life encouraged me over and over (like once a week as I cried in the confessional!) that God had a plan, that all His plans are good, and that everything was going to be okay. My spiritual director just kept telling me to offer up every part of the suffering, emotional and physical for some intention or intentions; that God cannot ignore the cries of His children, especially when he has called them to suffer, and there is power in sacrificial prayer.
So many good things came out of this season of my life. The best of which is of course the baby that we now cannot even imagine for one second living our lives without. But as always God gives so much more than we deserve. Here are just a few other things he gave me in the process:
Compassion: I love babies. Up to this point I had always gotten pregnant deliberately and convinced myself it was my idea. Finding myself pregnant when I felt I had no resources to handle it: physically, emotionally, financially, made me feel so much compassion for women who find themselves in this situation everyday. It made me realize that I had always been too judgmental about woman who consider or go through with abortion. I did not consider an abortion but I sure as hell understood how a woman alone, afraid and unformed who has not been taught the real value of a life, and the goodness of a forgiving God could convince herself that abortion is the answer. I began to pray for those women in a way I had never been able to before.
Perspective: This one took awhile but eventually I was able to see not only the great gift of this life but the lives of all these little people running around screaming and messing up my house. Not that I had never thought of them as gifts before but the word "gift" began to change for me. With the "planned" babies we felt somehow responsible: "look at us so open to life; we love God's gifts." But this little guy was not our idea. But isn't that what a gift really is? An unexpected, thoughtful, perfect blessing given by someone else. This doesn't mean of course that planning babies is bad, or that spacing babies is bad in fact that can be a beautiful gift in itself as it requires it's own sacrifice, but it does mean that when we say as Catholics that we remain open to life we really mean it. We remain open to the gifts of God whether that be the gift of space and time or the gift of another soul in the kingdom of heaven. This must be the hardest for those who cannot have babies when they want them; something I think must be a much deeper suffering than my own, because it is the constant reminder that life is just that, a gift, not a commodity, not something we pick out for ourselves, something only God can give.
Joy: Every time I am pregnant there are those irreplaceable and indescribable moments when you realize a brand new soul is growing inside of you and moving and breathing and he or she (usually he in my case) will have a vocation, a destiny and the ability to participate in the kingdom of God. Now I'd love to paint the picture that my whole pregnancy is full of this perspective but that would be a lie. This pregnancy brought with it morning (afternoon and evening) sickness. a ridiculously weakened immune system that caught 4 colds, 8 stomach viruses and eventually pneumonia that resulted in a chronic labor-inducing cough. So, most of the time "joy" was not the word I would have used to describe how I felt. Still, the mystery of life was present and with it the gratitude and awe that come when we realize what God is allowing us to participate in it and that is pure joy.
Gratitude and the Power of Prayer: This is the big one. This is where I am now. I am so grateful for the precious, perfect life that came out of God's perfect will in spite of my terrible attitude, in spite of my inability to see God's goodness right away. I followed the advice of my spiritual leaders and offered up every moment of the pregnancy for the intentions of others especially some dear to me who are pleading with God to give them a baby, for the souls of all our children that they would find their way to heaven and (somewhat selfishly) for the temperament of the baby I was carrying. I have two very strong-willed boys, one of whom was only 18 months old when this little guy made his debut and I just knew that I couldn't handle another one. I prayed that the baby would be mellow and sleep, and be easy and happy and delightful to be around. This wasn't necessary of course, God didn't have to answer this prayer but he did. He is by far the easiest baby I have ever had. My second son was really easy too but God went a step further on the mellow vibe with this little guy. I never had to bounce him or walk him to get him to stop crying; he has never cried for more than 2 minutes! He is cheerful and happy ALL the time; will let anyone hold him and sleeps, nurses and eats like a pro. I don't say this to make you hate me (although all you dear mothers of colicky children are allowed to!) but to testify to the sweet goodness of God. He transformed my suffering and my anger and my doubt into a beautiful gift, a gift that looks up at me and melts my heart every day, a gift that brings joy and laughter into our home, a gift that can even make the stubborn 2 year old stop what he is doing and selflessly love his baby brother. A gift that has humbled me, transformed our family forever and shown us the goodness of a loving God.
Everyday I thank God for interrupting our best laid plans. This life he has given us is not easy, it's not supposed to be. We've already started using NFP again, this time with even more determination and caution and I do hope that God gives us more time this time. We know we have a responsibility to these souls and we want to be good stewards, the best we can be and we are grateful to the Church and the minds within it that there are resources available to us that can help us do that. I do not see another baby in our immediate or even distant future but I know more than ever that God is really the one in control and that His ways are not my ways, but His ways are always good.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)