Lowering the bar

Yesterday was the first day of summer and by 8:05a.m. I had already been asked, “What can we do?”  By 10 am I posted on my Facebook,

“It's the first day of summer and my kids somehow got the impression that every minute of summer is supposed to be blissfully fun and entertaining. I think I'll make the day extra boring just to lower the bar a little...”

Fighting through the boredom was tough at first. There was bickering, whining, and several requests for food even though they weren’t really hungry.  It required an act of the will on my part not to want to escape to the zoo, park, Chuck E Cheese, or at least turn on the TV. (okay we eventually did turn on the tv, and later rode bikes to the park).  But somehow I felt that the experience of boredom was good for them.

And after fighting through for a while, their creative side came out. And they launched a full blown NERF gun war.

And the fun and laughter and creativity that is what summer should be began.

That’s how I wanted the story to end.

But in reality my little guys wanted to go outside while the big boys were having this NERF battle, and since it was truly gorgeous out, we headed to the front yard. My one year old wanted EVERYTHING my three-year-old played with except when he was climbing the cement steps or trying to eat rocks.  Meanwhile his brother found a sippy cup with milk in the trunk of his Lil’ Tikes car, which had been there for who-knows-how long.  He had already taken several sips before I confiscated and smelled the very rancid milk.  The phone rang and while I’m on the phone my three year old whines incessantly for some fresh milk and one of the NERF warriors yells out the window for some injustice which demanded my refereeing skills.

Enough is enough… the front yard isn’t working…. let’s try the backyard.  Off we go… and the baby heads straight for the sandbox… and proceeds to play with something in there… I begin to wonder what it could be? A closer look reveals some sort of animal poop. Nice.  At this point I start completely losing it.  I call my husband hoping for some words of wisdom, advice, or encouragement. He suggests I start drinking. It’s only noon.

I tell everyone to come inside and turn on the TV and sit at the kitchen table wondering how I’m going to survive the summer.

I had been psyching myself up for weeks that this summer was going to be different. I wasn’t going to yell and get frustrated and turn to the TV as a babysitter. My kindergartner was actually going to do the summer packet his teacher had given him to work on this summer.  During the little ones naps, the big boys would read quietly and work on bettering themselves.  And we’d play lots of games and have lots of fun.  And family life would look just like how I imagine it should. And I’d be “the perfect mom”. 

While sitting at the table, between praying and contemplating taking my husband’s advice to pour myself a drink, I decided that maybe it wasn’t the kids that needed to lower their expectations of what summer would look like after all… maybe it was me. And suddenly I was ready to face the chaos again…

His Grace is Sufficient....

It was July 2010 early in the morning when I told my husband the news…. I’m PREGNANT!  The joy in my heart was obvious and my husband shared in it! Together we told our boys… and rejoiced.  To celebrate we decided to go to Mass that day and thank God for this new life. 

While I was truly overjoyed by the gift of this new life, I also knew it meant the next nine months would be far from easy.  I have had difficult pregnancies that seem to get harder each time.  We’ve lost two babies through miscarriage and then found naprotechnology which helped us discover I had low progesterone.  Thankfully it can be treated through shots twice a week. 

Having just had a baby a little over a year before, I knew what I was getting into.  It meant lab draws, shots, hormones that made me (and let’s be honest… everyone around me) a little crazy.  It meant carrying a puke bucket around for months and an exhaustion that was so fierce I wondered if I’d ever feel normal again.  And it meant an emotional rollercoaster of praying and hoping for my baby’s safety.

So when we arrived at mass, I was praying in thanksgiving, but I also was praying for grace to endure the suffering that would surely come.  And then I heard the first reading from Jeremiah, 1:4

                “Before I formed you in the womb I knew you, before you were born I dedicated you”

My heart leapt.  I knew that God was with this baby and with me.

Then the Psalm 71:5-6

                “For you are my hope, O Lord:

                My trust, O God from my youth.

                On you I depend from birth;

                From my mother’s womb you are my strength”

I felt like God was telling me that he would protect this baby and not to worry. I experienced a deep peace and joy. 

Then the gospel was Matthew 13:1-9, the parable of the sower and the seeds.  I have heard this parable many times, but at some point since becoming a mother I began to hear it differently.  The same things that Jesus warns us can keep us from bearing spiritual fruit: trials, lack of roots, the anxieties of daily life and the lure of riches, are the same things that often keep people from bearing physical fruit: more children.

I felt so encouraged that this was the reading for the day.  So that nothing... not fear of suffering, financial concerns, or the anxieties of life with small children, could rob me of the joy of this new life growing inside me. 

The pregnancy was a time of suffering for me, but also of great consolation.  Jesus continued to give me great peace and encouragement.  The first time I went in for my lab draw I was feeling a little sorry for myself… here we go again I thought…. And on the secular radio station that was on in the lab was “I Can Only Imagine”.  It was a little gift to me. 

And there were moments that I drew upon the grace that was given to me that day at Mass.  One instance in particular when I was about four months along and I started bleeding.  I was at the ER and I kept almost hearing the word, “protected”.  I felt a deep peace even before the sonogram showed a little baby with a beating heart!

Our little boy was born, not only full term, but 8 days overdue!   Healthy and beautiful little boy!  And the suffering of those nine months was nothing compared to the joy of our new son.  

I experienced that God's grace is not only sufficient, but it is abundant!

p.s. My husband writes about this time in our lives also... check it out 

Blood, Sweat, and Tears

After my last post, I was thinking of all the times my kids have been late to school and the circumstances surrounding that and I remember one incident that really stood out.

A little background: my kindergartner is sort of a mix between a cuddly bear and the Tasmanian devil. My wild child is on his second backpack for this year. And it’s literally safety pinned together. He went through two winter coats and countless pants.  The kid literally runs circles around everyone all day long. I bought him a pair of Sketcher sneakers in October and when we were shooting baskets in the gym in December he kept slipping. I looked and his treads were completely gone.  At first I thought, "Boy they sure don’t make ‘em like they used to" (I have a pair of Sketchers from college which was… well, let’s just say… ages ago!).  But I realized he literally wore them out… in two months.

Here he is VICTORIOUS!

My husband and I joke about how this boy of ours came out ready for the marines.  He's the kid who when Grandpa says, "watch out for spider webs on the dock!" goes running chest out, arms open wide right into them, not because he has something to prove, but because he really just doesn't care.

check out the long walkway and imagine him running and  yelling and letting the webs go all over him...

This tough side is balanced well though with a sweetness and deep concern for others. He will be the first to run over to the baby and comfort him or to give a hug out of the blue. He is as sweet as can be, just a little fireball.

So when his brother came upstairs one day saying that my little sweet tornado had pulled the coat hooks out of the wall, I wasn’t as shocked as you would think.  He pulled so hard, they literally came out of the wall. Since the hooks were anchored into the wall, it left two huge holes.  They say I'll laugh at these things someday...

The next day he went to get his coat and it was up high. Being extremely resourceful, he tried to get it himself but couldn’t quite reach, so he got a cap gun, a nice solid metal one, and was throwing it up high in the air to try and get it to unhook his coat. Not such a great idea. Apparently the sharpest part of the gun landed on his head.

The next thing I know I’m looking at the clock thinking that although my husband was gone, I was actually going to get them to school on time… we still had plenty of time! It was a miracle… there’s a first time for everything!  WOW! I’m supermom!   That was until he came upstairs holding his head, covered in blood.

Now, there was a time when I was new to this mothering boys business that I became completely unglued at the sight of my child bleeding. But being the veteran that I am, and having experienced countless boys bloodied in battle… okay.... I still freak out at the sight of one of them bleeding. Every. Single. Time.  I’m not really sure if my reaction is because it’s so painful to see your child hurting, because my level of medical care doesn't extend beyond putting on a band-aid, or because I don’t want blood on my carpet… but I have yet to react calmly and rationally. 

Anyway, I quickly decided that if I was going to the ER, I’d rather have three children with me instead of four so I took my oldest to school while having my bleeding boy cover his head with an ice packet and a towel. And I called my sister who is an ER doctor.

And my sister saved the day again… she calmly told me how much head wounds bleed and how it probably wasn’t that bad and walked me through what to do to help him. She saved me an ER visit that day and a huge copay and it was only one of the many times I’ve been grateful for her!

Here she is with my little niece 

By the time I got to the pediatrician’s office my bleeding boy was doing fine and so was I. 

And I learned that being late to school isn’t the worst thing that could happen after all.  And that motherhood, like everything worth doing, takes a lot of blood, sweat, and tears!