The end of ordinary

Well, ordinary time has come to an end. The every day, ordinary, busy, endless weeks of nothing special are over. Today is the beginning of a new season and a new liturgical year. And I'm making resolutions.

First, I'm going to learn the new translations of the responses, prayers, and creed that are now being used in the Mass. We've been practicing at Mass for the past couple of months, but I still can't remember some of the bits. And then I'm going to finally work up the courage to ask our parish pastor why he doesn't say that last bit right before communion, the Communion Rite. It's one of the most powerful moments in the Mass,  and my favorite part as I was on my conversion journey. To get the chance to say to God, "I'm not worthy!" and to have the humility and faith to ask for transformation.

Thew new translation more closely mirrors the scripture passage it is drawn from:

"Lord I am not worthy that you should enter under my roof, but only say the word and my soul shall be healed!"

It's that last reminder of the unworthiness of our poor souls to receive the sacrifice of Christ and the realization that though we are unworthy He freely made the sacrifice anyway. And that makes the magnitude of Christ's gift of self even greater. We are unworthy, we don't deserve, and yet He gives it anyway. Taking this part away robs us of part of the gift of Christ.

End of rant, continuation of story...

The second resolution I'm making is to not let the ordinary time become so ordinary anymore. After the quiet anticipation of Advent is over, and the joy and celebration of Christmas has ceased, I'm going to do my best, by the grace of God, to make every day the altar is dressed in green a day worthy of that color. Full of life-giving energy, the kind of pulsating energy that gets us through the day with love and joy,  not stagnant drudgery.

It's been tough lately with the kids' new outbursts of independence and temperament display, and the continuing saga of John's overworking working schedule. And I'm sure there will be more days that I feel I just need to get through and can't wait until they're over, especially as John ramps up the studies for his professional exam. But through it my prayer will continue to be that I and our home can be a place of refuge, filled with grace and love, for my husband and our kids. Not always clean, hardly ever quiet, but still peaceful.

For now, it's Advent! The kids and I are going to set up our advent home shrine this afternoon. I can't wait to see how it develops!

Toddler Dinner Party/Stepping Back

Toddler dinner parties are fun. Just had a spur of the moment one with a good friend and her two children who are each a little younger than my two. It hysterical. There were actually hysterical toddlers loose in my house (two of them were mine). The kids were laughing and running around, taking each other's toys, but generally having a great time. Toward the end of our visit both of our oldest children were wild and crazy, running and screaming from excitement. We tried to keep some semblance of peace, as it was dinner time. But they were playing off of each other's excitement, and nothing short of separating the two oldest seemed like it was going to work.

It was everything I could do not to lose my cool in front of my friend when trying to guide my little lady's rambunctious behavior into something a little more...calm. The normal paths of guidance weren't having an effect at all. I even threatened to put her straight to bed, and then acted on that threat, to no avail. So, I thought, I would just let it be. They're two, and excited, and this is different and new having to share your every toy and even your high chair to a smaller child. Since I'm sitting in a big seat I can stand! I can get down easily and play! I don't have to eat! I can run and scream and climb on the chairs and...

OK, so I did lose control of my little lady this evening. And all those reasons may not be an excuse to just let her run wild. I did try. And it didn't work. So for just this occasion, with all these new and different experiences, it was OK. And I had a blast.

What was surprising to me in all this, was that I didn't actually get frustrated with her. I got a little peeved that she wasn't heeding my instruction, but I wasn't the red-in-the-face frustrated as is the usual run of things. And if you've been reading my blog at all before this post you'll know it's something I've been struggling with the past few months. And, as an aside, I'm wondering--is this patience thing something all moms deal with or is it my own personal cross to bear?

My mom always says, "Don't lose sight of her joy! Don't let her lose her joy!" And I think this speaks to another bit of parenting advice that I have received along the way. That is when you start to get bogged down in all the many things toddlers do that are frustrating, against the rules, down right mean or messy, to take a step back and admire all the amazing aspects of the child God has created and given to you. This works in three ways for me.

First, it helps me to take stock of who my child is. What are his or her strengths, gifts, talents? What makes her happy? What brings out the best in her? It helps me learn who she is. By learning more about her I can love her better and help her learn more appropriate ways to express herself.

Second, it helps me put her behavior into perspective. Because I know she squeals loudly enough for the neighbor across the street to hear when she is excited, I can look more organically at her behavior. She's not squealing to make me mad. She's squealing because she is excited! Doesn't make the behavior OK, but it does help me to form a plan of action, to set new limits and show her different and equally fun ways of showing excitement. Like clapping or jumping or waving her hands. This is freeing for me as well. I don't have to keep saying, "Stop squealing!", or the ever ineffective, "Stop squealing or you're going to time out." Time out is over, nobody is happy, and she's still squealing two minutes later.

Third, it actually makes me appreciate and love her for who she is and what she can do. I love that she gets so excited about things. I love that she feels so happy she just can't keep it in any longer and has to let us all know, in no uncertain terms, that she is, in fact, that excited.

Is the squealing socially acceptable behavior? Probably not. Am I going to let her keep doing it? I'm hoping one of these techniques I'm coming up with works. But after taking a step back and looking at the situation with all of its many variable instead of getting bogged down in the action of squealing, I can better understand my daughter and the influences on her behavior. Knowing this helped my come up with a plan for next time. And now I get to implement it!

*******

I'm realizing that I'm writing more about my parenting struggles these days, and less about parenting as a part of growing a domestic church. Looking at it organically, it's all part of the big picture, but I would like to share some different anecdotes of life in our home in the coming posts. We've been off the wagon of celebrating Church holidays since Easter, but I hope to bring these back starting with Thursday's birth of Mary with a birthday party for the Blessed Mother. That's the plan at least...

Peace

I've escaped for a few days to my mom and dad's house, or as my daughter likes to call it, "Abeea's house!". Papatoes, apparently, just lives here. He only owns "Papatoes truck!" Oh two year olds!

It was a restorative weekend. I had loads of time to be a little more quiet, a little more prayerful. Mainly in the here and there thoughts that drifted into intentions of gratitude and thanksgiving, requests and penitence which where then whispered and relinquished to our God who is all knowing...with the faith that He is merciful and all good. It was an everyday retreat. I gave up on worrying about the things I was worrying about.  And not just for the weekend, I gave that worry up. These little details of starting a "business" would take care of themselves, in time. In time, I'd figure it out. But for now, just peace. Peace in my family, joy in my family. 

My children are delightful. I don't think I'd be able to fully describe to anyone just how amazing they are. I don't mean that in a boastful way, but rather in an awe-filled way. It's in the small things. The inflection in my daughter's voice as she rambles through more complex sentences or coaxes her brother into some mischief with her. Or the way my son follows her lead and the two of them get up to something--thick as thieves. He gets these sparkly then squinty eyes when he's trying something different that cracks me up. Today he started babbling something at dinner that he obviously thought was hilarious. After each "sentence" he'd stop babbling and laugh at his incredible wit. The best was Sunday morning at Mass. I looked down right as Mass began to see K making the sign of the cross with her dolly's hands and J singing along to the music. That, my dears, was happiness.

So today we're here visiting Abeea and Papatoes. It's the feast of the Assumption of Mary. The day we Catholics (and others) celebrate the end of Mary's earthly life and the beginning of her life and reign in heaven. My mom came up with this lovely activity for the kids to do today in honor of Mary's feast day.

K's favorite color is purple, in case you couldn't tell.

Baby J gets in on it, too.

Peace!

Drudging through the desert

In a drought, so to speak. It's dry, I'm making my way through the days, but I don't know where I'm going right now. Feeling disoriented with all the desert around.

This is what happens, I suppose, when things get busy. Busy...that little word that is almost dirty to some. People are too busy these days, we overextend ourselves, we miss out on the little things hurrying through life...that's what they're saying. And perhaps we're not so much busy as I am distracted. I'm distracted by all the paperwork, drudging through the paperwork to get something so small I would scarcely call it a business set up. It has consumed me for the past two weeks. I knew I was sinking in it, I knew I should just give it a rest, but I couldn't.

Confused by all the metaphors? Yeah, me too.

The drudging I'm doing is what is keeping me busy. Though I'm busy and drudging, I'm still able to find the joys in everything. The children and I are having a blast doing fun outings and playing together. We're silly and laughing and living up summer. They're still asleep after a big morning at the crowded zoo.

The drought I wrote of has more to do with this zing of life that seems to be missing. I'm not connected to the life source. "He leads me beside still waters, He restores my soul." I need that. I need to be led, I need to let myself be led. I need those life giving waters, not this dry land around me. I need to feel my soul restored and alive! I don't want to feel busy and disoriented and dry. Even though I'm enjoying life and my family, I want a river with grass to enjoy it in, not just an oasis.

So I'm taking the next few days off from worrying about small business tax rules and getting a website up.  I'm going on personal retreat. I'm going into prayer mode--a mode so fraught with vulnerability  and the possibility of unwelcome revelation I've been avoiding it lately.  Hopefully I'll have something better to write about when I return.

Vocational Mothering

After my last two posts a dear woman close to me, who is also source of motherly wisdom for me, reminded me of something very important. She wrote to me and reminded me that:

 "...We should do all we can to give our children the best childhood possible, but because that is our vocation and road to sanctity as mothers, not because our children are so fragile." --Rebecca Ramsay

I reflected on this for a while. And as it soaked in a burden of fear lifted off me. All this guilt I carry around because I lose my temper and my patience, because I don't do everything perfectly for my children all the time began to subside. The fear that I'm going to ruin my children because for one instant out of the entire day I'm with them I do something I wish I hadn't started to crack under the realization that the onus of control lies not on the outcome of my children's lives, but on mine. It is my job, my vocation, my call to strive for everyday sanctity. In so doing my mothering, my interactions with my children, will bear the fruit of the sacrifice and prayer. And then I remembered I needed to pray.

What was supposed to be a splash time turns into a full body experience.

This message also reminded me of that paradoxical point of view that children crave routine, but are at the same time resilient. I do my best to ensure that my children eat well, sleep well, and play well, but life is life. Things happen. Patience is lost, or the routine goes out the window, or sometimes we even skip a snack [gasp!]. My kids still smile, and laugh and find joy in things. They aren't scared of me (as witnessed by the lack of listening going on with my little lady currently), they still come to me for comfort and support and help. So I haven't ruined them. I long to explore their world with them, to laugh with them, and to find joy in the sillies and stranges with them. So that's what I'll work on today. Being present, making sacrifices joyfully, and striving for everyday sanctity.

Feet Don't Fail Me Now

My children are currently squealing at each other from their beds when they're supposed to be napping. But that's OK. They'll fall asleep eventually. Or not. And then we'll go to the spray park and have a blast, and they'll pass out a little early tonight at bedtime.

It's funny how much has changed in the past year. A year ago, I may have had a complete meltdown if one or both of the kids was off the routine. Sleeping especially was something I was super wound up about. Now, my baby is going to be one in a couple of weeks, my big girl is acting, well, bigger every day. And things don't seem as catastrophic if they're out of place. In fact, I'm finding that things can sometimes be easier if I let loose the reigns and shake things up. It's nice having distraction from the everyday with visitors and trips, play dates and spontaneous picnics or tea parties. It keeps things from feeling stagnant and insular. 

I think I relied so heavily on that routine when I had two under two, and had all the stress that came along with that. Now that J has his feet under him, literally--he's walking now, I feel as though I have mine under me as well. Things that I wouldn't have thought possible a few months ago, are now suddenly possible again. I feel a sense of freedom in a way, like I can finally calm down and enjoy watching my children play together. I can more calmly (most of the time) help them learn to share, not hit, take turns, make music, and run around together. J is learning to communicate a lot more, and can certainly understand a lot more. His signing has blossomed over the past few weeks. It is amazing watching his personality unfold with all his new found abilities. 

There are certainly still times that my patience runs thin. And I'm sure there will be difficult patches as J begins pushing limits once he realizes that they are there. For now I'm optimistic. Slowly, step by step, I'm regaining my balance.

Breaking the silence

It's been a long time since my last post. Thing's haven't been busy, per se, but it feels like there has just been no time to write. I could say it was just the lack of time, but that wouldn't be the whole truth. I simply haven't felt the motivation, inclination, or inspiration to share what has been the goings on around here. The last few weeks have been filled with very high highs in family life as well as some fairly low lows (in my personal opinion) in my career as a mother.

A while ago a mommy friend of mine mentioned something about how the first two to three years of a child's life lay the foundation for the way they will interact with the world for the rest of their life. They are incredibly formative years. Now, this is something I have heard before, and what's to stop the next two to three or thirty years from forming the child into a person, but it struck me in a different way this time. No longer was this idea theoretical, something to read about, study, ponder, nod knowingly in self-awareness of my self-education and think that at some point in the future that information would silently seep its way into my daily mothering--that this information in my head would make me a good or better mother. No, when I heard this tidbit it hit me like a ton of bricks. Suddenly my oldest is two and my youngest will be one in a couple of months. The clock is ticking. What kind of foundation am I laying as mother? Spiritually? Socially? Practically? Emotionally? I heard this and it was as if the teacher announced the exam was actually going to be today instead and I hadn't done enough studying.

The more I thought about it, the more frustrated I became. Until every little thing my child did or said became my fault. And every way I reacted to the children became a failure to do what was best, in my head, and in more cases than I wish to admit, in practice.

I'm not the kind of person who plans well. Oh I plan, just not well. I plan to plan. I love lists. But then I can't get down to the nitty gritty because, well, I don't make decisions easily. So once I find a system or schedule that works, I stick to it tooth and nail. Thing is, children aren't that consistent. And they aren't objects, they're people who have changing needs, changing wants, wants to be changed whether or not it wakes the other child up in the process.

This drive to stick to my lists, to try to get my things accomplished each and every day, had driven me to a low point. Feelings of failure, frustration, exasperation with the terrible twos, exhaustion from trying to pull double weight around the home, a little loneliness from the project keeping John away, and the subconscious stress of planning and packing for a couple of weeks away put me in time out this afternoon. I was at a bottom, rock or not, it was some form of a floor. I lost sight of the significant things, and could only see the floor. And how dirty it was. And how much I wanted to clean it, but couldn't.

Then my daughter came in and gave me a hug. And a kiss. And a gentle pat. And said, "Blessed Mother and baby Jesus are right there!" pointing to the picture on the wall of our bedroom. She went about playing with her brother, and I started to talk to Them about all this. And I think I started to let go a little.

I think a lot about letting go. I feel the whole water off a duck's back picture is flawed. I think in order to really let some things go, you have to internalize them first. Accept the thing you have to let go of, and then let go of it. And as I let out all my frustrations and spoke them out loud to the best mother the world has ever seen, and to her God-son, I think I really began to let go of some of these things. It became clear once again that my children are my work, my children and my family. My home is the place my family dwells, but it is material, secondary to the needs of my family. All the other things going on are secondary.

I felt I needed to start tomorrow making sure that my children were fed emotionally and spiritually, not just bodily. They are more important than keeping the house clean or checking off the lists I've arbitrarily made once they're in bed. Someone will probably not nap. Someone else will definitely have a runny nose and stuffy attitude. But that will be my work. The things I can't predict or plan or make lists and schedules about. They are my work. They are my joy.