Advent

Twenty one Advents ago I finally "got it".  I finally understood the true meaning of waiting.  Not the waiting for Santa to bring you presents excitement that you had when you were a child.  But the waiting for the beginning of something more than what currently was.  Twenty one Advents ago I was waiting for our first child to be born (supposedly on Christmas Eve-but January 2 she finally arrived).  All my life I have had a special love for the Blessed Virgin Mary.  That Advent it was intensified.  We waited together for the birth of our children.  I asked Mary to help me as my apprehension grew and I prayed a Hail Mary through EVERY major contraction.  I looked up during transition and my nurse was wearing a pin from Medjugorje.  Mary has always been with me, leading me and guiding me in my faith.

As I grew in Motherhood I continued to look toward Mary for guidance. The love a mother has for her children gives us a small inkling in how much  Mary loves us but more than that how much our Heavenly Father loves us.  It is humbling.  However, since this is a mothering blog I am going to continue my focus on Mary.  As I birthed, nursed, and cared for more children one part of the Infancy Narratives began to annoy me.  (Yes, I just said something in the gospels annoyed me, but I haven't been struck down yet.) It was the part about swaddling Jesus and placing him in the manger. My La Leche League friend will understand this train of thought even if others don't.  All I kept thinking was "REALLY!? No way did Mary put down her brand new baby!  She  kangaroo cared him, nurse him on demand, and wore him 24/7. The gospel writers were OBVIOUSLY men!" This line of thought continued until this Advent.  Mary, who has always guided me to her son was probably finally fed up with my fresh, arrogant attitude and was ready to set me straight.

A few weeks ago I started reading The Life of Mary as Seen by the Mystics.  My almost 21 year old gave it to me a couple years ago and I never got around to reading it, until now. Coincidence, I think not.  Although I am enjoying the book it is a slow read: not because it is difficult to understand but because each chapter leads you to ponder or muse.  I really need to sit with what I have read before I move on.  Last week I got to the infancy narrative.  Here we go I thought.  How could she put him down?  In a manger no less!  It was cold! The hay was itchy!  He was just born! He needed his mother! I don't get it. Well, this my friends is Mary's job: to help us "get it".  We Catholic are mistakenly accused of worshiping Mary. We don't.  We venerate her as the Mother of God.  We ask for her intercession with her son.  And her job, her motherly vocation has always, from the beginning, been to lead us to her son; to point us in his direction and say, "Look, there is your Savior.  Adore Him.  Love Him. Trust Him."  As I was reading and musing I finally got it (again).  In my minds eye I saw Mary loving put the Son of God in the manger,  next to her stood Saint Joseph and next to the manger was the Monstrance (the Monstrance is the vessel used in the Catholic Church to hold the Consecrated Eucharist). Just to be clear, there was no mystical vision here just an "aha" moment. I finally understood why Mary placed Jesus in the manger. The manger and the Monstrance are one. When we bow before the Monstrance we praise and adore our God.  Mary placed Jesus in the manger so we ALL could bow and adore our God.  The lyrics "O, come let us adore Him, Christ the Lord" took on a fuller, richer, meaning.   Mary once again points us to Jesus as she and St. Joseph invite the shepherds, the wise men, the animals and all of us to adore Jesus.  I know priest have been pointing this out every Christmas mass I have ever gone to but isn't amazing when you finally, finally "get it"?  Once again Mary took my hand and led me where I needed to be:  kneeling before her son adoring Him.

May your Advent be blessed as you wait to adore Christ the Lord!

The sandwich phone call

I had the funniest phone call this week from my college girl.  She called to inform me that her sister, the sophomore in highschool, needed a sandwich.  College Girl lives 10 hours away! I was so taken aback that I was speechless for a moment.  I informed the college girl that I was not home and had no way of getting said sandwich her sister.  The ever resourceful College Girl quickly dismissed me to call her grandmother for help.  Grandmothers never say no.  When I got off the phone I started laughing.  The whole interaction last less than a minute.

As I was driving home and thinking about the phone call I started grinning.  I was so happy.  My husband and I try to instill in our children the realization that even though these people you share small spaces with annoy you beyond belief they are going to be the ones that have your back ALWAYS.  I am sure my children are sick of hearing me say, "when I am gone, these are the ones who will be there for you no matter what."  A household with 6 children ages 6-20 and all the chaos that goes along with varying dynamics a mother (or at least this mother) worries that her children will grow up, grow away and not like each other. But that brief phone call gave me hope that, maybe, just maybe, we are doing something right and they will take care of each other and like each other!

The highschool girl could not call me and I did not see her text.  Usually, she would have skipped lunch but she had to stay after school until 6 pm for play practice; she was in a panic..  She texted the person she knew would get a hold of me no matter what.  Each child has his own ring tone on my cell phone so if I hear it I know to answer.  College Girl's ring tone at an odd hour would cause me to excuse myself from the activity I was engaged in and answer the phone.  College Girl knew her sister was in a panic and this need to be taken care of.   College girl is great at trouble shooting.  Thank goodness my mom lives in town!

It was a simple thing.  The girls have probably forgotten about it.  But for me it was huge.  It warmed my heart and made my day.  I still smile when I think of it.  Someday, they will realize that the greatest gift they ever received was the gift of each other.  For a mother there is no great sense of accomplishment.

Breaking Hearts

I am sitting here with a blank screen, a quiet house,  a head swirling with thoughts and a heart overfilled with emotion.  We dropped our second oldest of at college a week ago today and I am still trying to put it all together.

The day before he left was a grace filled day.  A gift from God.  Actually, all days are a gift from God but we aren't always in the right space to appreciate that or be tuned into it.  Thankfully, I was on that day.  It was nothing extraordinary which was what made it so beautiful.  Our oldest had already left for her Junior year at college and the third was at her second day of sophomore year of highschool.  The soon to be college boy was packing up, running errands, asking advice on classes.  The younger three were happy playing together (miracle!) but then big brother suggested they play a board game.  Joy was abundant.  I was pouring all my emotion into making a perfect dinner for my son.

At one point College Girl called to chit chat, the highschooler returned home, the others were laughing in another room and I was over come with gratitude, joy and love.  After hanging up the phone I stood at my kitchen sink with tears pouring down my face.   How blessed I was!  A mother's heart swells with unconditional love to the point that it breaks into a million pieces and is scattered throughout the world.  My heart was breaking.  My world was changing.  Transition was happening. It was and is the hardest thing we have to do as parents.  (And I have to do it 4 more times!!!)  But it is inevitable.  We must let our hearts break so we can send that love out into the world.  And, by the the grace of God, if we have let our hearts love to the point of breaking we have done our job well.

Burnout

"Come to me, all you who labor and are burdened,

and I will give you rest.

Take my yoke upon you and learn from me,

for I am meek and humble of heart;

and you will find rest for yourselves. 

For my yoke is easy, and my burden light."

This gospel reading is one of my favorites.  It is something I should read every day.  It was my push to tackle one of the topics on my MUSING list: burnout.  I started writing this last week after hearing this gospel at Mass.  Yet, I couldn't get my thoughts together in a coherent fashion.   I have been somewhat quiet on the blogging lately . Instead of something I wanted to do it felt more like something I had to do.  The ideas are there swirling as always.  I jot them down in a notebook.  The thought of writing has been overwhelming.  But then again everything has felt overwhelming the past couple of months.  We leave for our family trip in two weeks and I just finished making reservations which for me is unheard of as planning our trips has always put a spark in my step.  But this year it felt like one more thing on the to do list that I didn't want to do.  We could just have a staycation!

Let me start by saying it was a wet, wet, dreary spring here.  It seems as if we slogged through May and June, not just in the weather but also with finishing up with school.  We fizzled out the school year like a firecracker that would not pop.  I couldn't figure out why everything we did felt like we were walking through mud.  My mind was so bogged down with thoughts that I couldn't think.   A friend who also felt the same way suggested:  "Maybe it is burnout."  Hmmm.  That thought took root and I realized I had felt this way before.  My second year of graduate school.  I was SO DONE!  Being an over achiever in highschool and college left me feeling very burnt out by the time I need ed to  buckle down and focus on my studies.  If it wasn't my wonderful roommates who refused to let me quit and the fact I had no idea what else I could do I am not sure I would have continued.  But I wasn't enjoying my academic experience at all. 

Now that I knew what I was dealing with what was I going to do about it?  It was still early June and I realized I was  desperately  hanging on for the two day get away that my hubby and I had planned at the end of June.  The first hot day of June I called summer vacation and said I did not want to talk about school or think about school for awhile.  I found myself on a reading frenzy like I haven't done in a long time (5 books in 2 weeks-none of them about school, children, marriage, faith, health or anything of social significance).  

Remember when I started this blog I said I had no words of wisdom or advice on mothering.  Well, if you were hoping for some ideas on how to handle burnout I will refer you back to that post.  I got nothing.  I wish I had something.  But as the summer is plodding along I am grateful for summer and the change of pace it gives us.  And sun.  Glorious sun!  

The two night overnight with my husband was pampering beyond belief.  I did feel so much better when I returned.  I felt as if I was able to stop thinking for a couple days and just be.  I have tried to up my exercise routine this summer.  I have, like I said, lost myself in reading (my ultimate coping mechanism).  I have decided I need to play more with my kids.  Seriously, I am with them all the time but I let the "I got to do this list" over reach itself.  The list will never be finished.  The kids won't always be kids who want to play.  I have rediscovered the joy in the play (though DO NOT ask me to play any strategy games that take days -no joy there).  I have slowly started thinking about the up coming school year, but that still causes me much anxiety.  12 years of homeschooling you would think I would have a clue.  And I think  have come to the core root of my "burnout".  It is not homeschooling, or having 6 children, or having too many activities, or not exercising enough, or not playing enough or not spending enough time with my husband.  It is thinking too much about all the things I just listed.  Because the thinking kicks into a pattern of over thinking.  Over thinking is when I question everything and trust nothing.  Over thinking takes me off the path and leads me down so many twisted roads and many dead ends.  This is when I feel weary and over burdened.  When I feel no rest.  I know what I should do.  I know I should go to God and give all my burdens to Him and ask for rest but I don't.  I keep them to myself thinking I can handle it.  Plus, I don't want to bother God with my daily struggles, need to save Him for the "big stuff".  Yet, it is the daily struggles of our vocation that become the big burdens if we don't hand them over.  It is the day to day stuff that burns us out.  When I think of the bible passage I quoted I always have a picture of a farmer in my mind.  Shouldn't that clue me into the fact that God wants our day to day, routine, boring, same old same old struggles? What is more routine than a farmer's life?

I read once (back when I was reading parenting/schooling books) about a Mom who didn't know what to do for the coming school year with her children because they all had such different needs.  So she did exactly what the Gospel said.  She went to adoration and placed each child's need in God's hands.  She came up with her curriculum choices by listening to God in adoration.  

I really do know what I need to do to combat burnout.  Vacation, playing, organizing, exercising those are all  pieces to the puzzle but the puzzle will not be finished unless I go rest in God.  I need to go to adoration and sit with Jesus in silence.  Now that I said it out loud (or online) I hopefully will do it.  Even if one of my 10 blog readers asks me about how it is going it will keep me accountable!  Maybe! ?  Say a pray for me and join me in the adoration chapel combating burnout.  

Things I will not miss

Over the years I have made a mental list of things I will ABSOLUTELY, POSITIVELY, not miss about having little kids.  Sometimes things went on the list and came off again after the moment of insanity passed.  However, at this point in my parenting career I am quite confident about the following three things.

1.  Dressing the under 6 crowd for the snow. Getting a young jello like body stuffed into snow gear takes at least 20 minutes only to be rewarded with said child announcing the immediate need to use the bathroom. When the children are finally outside you have just enough time to make a cup of tea(but not drink it) before they come back in expressing dissatisfaction with the cold and looking for hot chocolate.

2.  Staying with the weather related theme let's talk sunscreen.  The appearance of a sunscreen bottle causes young children to go running and screaming in the other direction.  When you finally catch the child (grateful at least that you had a sprint work out running after the darling) you are afraid someone is going to call the police because it sounds as if you are ripping your child's fingernails out.  It only gets better when the tears combine with the sunscreen trickle into your prisoner 's eyes causing more wailing from both parent and child.

3.  Last but not least: tooth brushing.  We have been brushing other peoples teeth for 20 years now!  When I think about that, well my mind just kind of explodes.  Again, with the sounds of torture and me saying, EVERY SINGLE NIGHT, "If you would just cooperate we would be done by now."   Luckily, we are finally at the point of only one tooth brushee but some nights I don't know who is screaming louder the  6 year old or me.  Last night he sincerely stated to my husband, "Mom likes brushing my teeth"  and looked aghast when I maniacally laughed.  My reply was something that resembled the saying, "this hurts me more than you."

So there you have it.  How about you?  Just remember, eventually, this too shall pass and or at least that is what I keep telling myself.

Mother's Day

A mothering blog would not be complete without a post about Mother's Day.  The funny thing about Mother's Day is that in our family it was never really about my mom.  My Dad's birthday is May 8 so Mother's Day and his birthday always coincided.  And truth be told, my mom always got the short end of the stick in that deal.  Sorry Mom! My dad passed away 5 years ago. He turned 89 on May 8, died on May 10 and we had his wake on Mother's Day!  Again, he stole the show.  But that was my dad and I wouldn't have expected anything else from him.

 Mother's Day, my dad's birthday, anniversary (because people don't say "death date"), and my two youngest children's birthdays all take place within an 8 days.  It is a whirl wind of musing during those 8 days. An example of the circle of life taking place each year before my eyes.  But now with time I can celebrate the life  and joy of it all.

The story I want to share with you started 6 years ago, on May 10.  I was several days past my due date with our youngest child.  At 42 with 5 other children I was beyond exhausted.  I was swept up with an overwhelming need to sleep, which I did, only waking when I received a phone call from my mom.  Dad was being rushed to the hospital in Boston.  He had requested a DNR (do not resuscitate).  They were not sure what was going on.  As I sat there listening to my mom I realized that there was no physical way I could make it to the hospital.  When I had awoken from my sleep induced coma I knew without a shadow of a doubt that the baby was coming within the next 24 hours, probably sooner.  As I hung up the phone I whispered one desperate word into God's ear, "please!" then I fell back to sleep.

Our faith tells us that God answers our prayers in a way that is best for our spiritual growth.  They are often not answered in the way we intended, in the time frame we wanted or with the out come we had hoped.  Prayers for intentions are not wishing well requests.  We don't always understand the outcome of our requests but we trust, in faith, that God know best and some day the whole picture of our lives will be painted for us and we will see what it all means.  Until then we trust and pray and at times if we are lucky we get a glimpse of what that painting will look like.  When our petitions are answered in such a clear way  we eternally grateful because it boosts our faith. For me,  God heard that simple yet heartfelt request. Even though I did not know what I was requesting He did and He answered it in such a beautiful way.

I gave birth to our youngest son early the next morning on May 11.  Dad was in the hospital.  I was recovering from birth.  The ability to help my parents was completely out of my control.  All I could do was pray.

Fast forward one year.  Dad celebrated his 89th birthday in the hospital after a minor surgery that he was predicted to fully recover from. Two days later, on May 10, while I was at the photographers for my soon to be 1 year old's only professional baby picture, my mom called to say Dad was not doing well and they were putting him on hospice care.  This was out of the blue and completely confusing.  A phone call with the nurses confirmed that Dad was not going to live through the night.  My husband was on his way home but I realized that I was not going to make it to my Dad before he died.  I gathered my six children around me and explained what was going on. Together we prayed a Divine Mercy Chaplet.  My mother called a few minutes after we were done to tell us Dad had passed.  Although I was upset because I was not with my mom and dad my children praying with me at the time of their grandfather's passing is one of the most beautiful experiences of my life.  I hope for my children it is a solid faith memory.

The next day my then 1 year old and I spent the day with Mom making funeral arrangements. At the end of the day we went home  to eat cake and  icecream, open presents and sing Happy Birthday. The tears spilled, well flooded, from my eyes.  Tears of sorrow but also tears of gratitude.  I realized how my simple "please" had been answered.  Dad met his youngest grandchild.  They had a year together.  Although my son would not remember his grandfather he is part of the family memories of him.  That year had been a gift to us all.  

Like I said we spent Mother's Day at Dad's wake.  We didn't think many people would show up because it was Mother's Day and we were understanding about that.  We were wrong.  Dad filled the place as only he could while Mom and I joked about how he hijacked Mother's Day again.  But really, we didn't care.  We were surrounded by all the people that loved Dad, including his one year old grandson.  What a better Mother's Day gift could we ask for?

May you have a blessed Mother's Day!

Attack of the killer snot bug.

Easter morning I stepped into the shower and noticed a black spot over my head.  The problem with being near sighted is that a small thing can turn into a huge nightmare because I can't see what the issue is.  My first thought was "big bug".  I had cleaned the bathroom the day before and knew there was no black spot on the ceiling of the shower so it must be a huge venomous insect.  Keeping one eye on the demon while I hastily cleaned I was struck by another terrifying thought.  What if it is not a bug?  What if it is a snot!  Various children had used the shower before me. This was a strong possibility.  I know you think I am nuts.  Well, let me rephrase that.  IF you don't have children you think this is impossible.  IF you do have children you know this is a distinct possibility.  You have experience the phenomom first hand:  putting your unsuspecting hand into a glob of unidentifiable "oh my gosh what the HELL is that!"  So the idea that somehow, one of my children, somehow got a huge booger on the ceiling was not far fetched, in my opinion.  While musing about the probability of being attacked by a killer insect that seemed to be growing by the second (I swear it was a half dollar in diameter) or having a wad of snot drop on me I attempted to shave my legs without bleeding out.  It was Easter after all and my Lenten sacrifice of not shaving was over (haha-like it was intentional and spiritual).  Keeping one eye on the ceiling and one I on my legs I completed my cleaning routine and exited the shower.  The moment of truth was at hand if I just put my glasses on.  Did I want to?  I suppose I should to save the next unsuspecting person from an arachnid or snot invasion.

It is amazing how life looks when you have your glasses on.  Everything is sharp, clear and certainly not as scary as when you are groping around with fuzzy vision.  My huge, snotty, demon insect was a tiny 1/4 inch critter that I was able to knock off and dispose of without any difficulties.  I could continue the metaphor of sharp vision vs fuzzy vision and find some wisdom in it,  but I will leave that up to you.  This blog is about me musing on motherhood.  Sometimes the thoughts are deep sometimes they are insane.  I am just grateful that I made it out of the shower alive!

Sleep

Sleep.  It is what eludes us mothers.  From the frenetic frenzied feeding days of our newborns through trying to stay awake as we wait for our driving teens to come home, we are always chasing that magical elixir from days gone by: sleep, or more precisely uninterrupted sleep.  Most nights after the Littles are in bed Hubby and I hang out and watch tv for a bit.  I use to do more after the kids went to bed but I can't muster any projects past 9 pm anymore.  Most nights it takes all I have to muster myself past 9 pm, especially if I am the one reading bed time storied to the Littles.  By the time reading and prayers are done I am being pulled into a delicious lull of total calm and relaxation.  I am convinced (though I have to scientific data to back me up) that having been a nursing mother for about 16 years, with only a few months off here and there, the total calm and peaceful bliss I start feel as I drift off  is associated with the same Prolactin  hormonal response I had while nursing my babies.  You know the feeling: deep, utter, contentment and relaxation.  The perfect entrance into sleep.  I only feel this way when reading to the Littles at night.  Most nights I do not give into its temptation but the other night whether from physical or emotional exhaustion I gave into the seduction.  I tiptoed by my husband and whispered, "I'm going to bed."  The trick here is to make sure you don't fully come out of that trance as you transfer from your children's room to your bed.  You can not talk, brush teeth, use the bathroom, turn on lights or anything that would rouse you to complete consciousness or you will loose the floating on air out of body feeling.

Success!  I had made it into my bed and was sinking deeper into the cloud of sleep.  Deep restorative sleep was coming my way.

But wait!

Within the first five minutes, there was the gleeful giggle of the 5 year old, "YOU ARE HERE!"  Does he check ever night to see if I am in my bed after he is tucked in?  He climbs in and snuggles down.  Ok.  I can still do this.  Keep still, give a kiss and we will soon be counting sheep.

Next,  the 8 year old.  "Oh, you are here!  I can't find my book to read so I will just snuggle with you for awhile."  I really don't see how the two are related.  I am starting to loose that floating feeling.  But they are cute and won't want to snuggle with me forever so "everyone just be quiet."

A little while later from the deep recesses of my mind I hear, "Mom, Mom? MOM!  Where's Mom?"  Light on in my room, "oh, are you in bed?"  At that point the 8 year has decided he has had enough snuggle time and is now going back to his bed.  Rustle, rustle, climb over me to get out of the bed!

I have now lost that blissful Prolactin induced sleep.  But I do not despair. I can still get to sleep earlier that usual and that will be a good thing.  For an hour or so I think I am sleeping but I really don't know because when my husband comes in I feel like I haven't been asleep at all.  I get up, move the 5 year old back to bed and settle back in when my husband then does something unbelievable:  HE STARTS TALKING!  (Ha-get your minds out of the gutter).  Really?!  You want to chat now!!!???? Oh why not?  Conversation, though not long, finally dwindles down and I am hoping at this point to catch the last wisps of slumber that are still floating around my being when the PHONE RINGS!

I have spoken about the late night phone call panic before so lets just say I went bolting down the stairs to grab the phone with my husband right behind.  "Mom, I have to tell you something funny!" States the College Girl, "Oh, were you in bed?"  At that point I responded with one word, "tomorrow."  Click.

I burrowed into my bed at 8 pm that night with such high hopes.  At 10:30 I lay awake, staring at the ceiling, all tabs of my mind open and racing while my dear husband slept soundly by my side.  The next morning he stated with a bemused chuckle, "How many woke you up last night?  4 out of 6?  And one being 10 hours away.  Not bad."

Mother Sense

It was not more than 10 minutes after the Patriots won the Superbowl when a text came in from our 17 year old son,  "Mom, we want to go to the parade on Tuesday."  He was watching the game a friend's house.  My knee jerk reaction when my teenagers start a query with "Mom, can I...?" is "NO!"  Unless you are asking me to go to church or adoration, NO, NO, NO.

I have been accused of being an over protective parent.  Many people think that is why we homeschool.  It is not. Honestly, I don't think I am over protective.  I parent with the goal of working myself out of a job.  I want my children to stretch, grow, experience, make mistakes, grow some more.  I am there guiding them with a hand on their backs when they need it and some sign posts along the way:  go this way,  try this.  If they are not ready for something, I have learned not to push, it backfires.  So I gently nudge.  That being said, there still is space in my head for worry.

About three weeks after my oldest was born I realized that I would worry about this person for the rest of my life.   Postpartum hormones were ranging along with three weeks of no sleep so that realization was extremely heavy, overwhelming, and scary.  Although it is still a true statement, with time and life that irrational panic was subdued and put in its appropriate place. Except, when my teenagers ask me "Mom, can I....?"  The initial response is coming from the same spot as that postpartum anxiety.  It is raw and real.  NO!  I worry!  I worry about.... and I can come up with a list of all the possible worst case scenarios in a nano second.   I need to keep you safe.

As I was musing about this the past few days I spoke to two of my closest friends. One of them reported, in a somewhat resigned voice, that she received a text from her 20 year old saying the spring break trip to Costa Rica was all set. In her voice I heard the same feelings that I was trying to put my finger on. The next day I spoke with my other friend and she was able to identify all the things I thought could go wrong with my son going into Boston to the parade!  We  laughed at how we both had the same thoughts.  It made me feel better knowing that it was not just me who thought this way.  I realized it is all mothers. It's not that we don't want our children to do these things.  It is not that they are asking for inappropriate experiences.  It is not that they are irresponsible.  It is that when we became mothers our whole outlook changed.  We were now responsible for someone else.  And with all the joys and challenges of parenting also came the "what if worries.".

I really don't like the word worry.  I don't think it adequately describes what we are experiencing.  Maybe it is a new sense we develop in Motherhood?  It's there.  It doesn't control us or consume us.  It may rear it's ugly head but we can subdued it when it is far fetch and out of control.  It reminds us to be ever vigilant but it listens to reason.  For me it just seems to be louder lately. Maybe it is because I have a 20 year old, 17 year old and 14 year old who are inching closer to independent flight every day.  That realization calls me to fall back on the one thing that I know I can do to ensure their safety: pray.  Pray that they stay close to their Heavenly Father and their Mother Mary.  Entrust them back to the One who gave them to us in the first place. As they grow up and become the people God created them to be it is the most important thing I can still do for them.  And it helps keep that Mother Sense in its appropriate place.

The 17 year old had a great time at the Patriots parade.  There was no terrorist attack, no drunken mob beating him up, he didn't get mug and he didn't get in an accident on the way home in the snow. I really was happy for him! It brought back memories of a certain highschool senior who attended a Celtic's Victory parade in 1986.

Christmas Traditions

I am dreading 5:40 am tomorrow.  That is when Christmas vacation is officially over and it is back to school, work, schedules, swim practice, Cubscouts, American Heritage Girls, Co-op and the list goes on.  The pre-Christmas preparation frenzy is followed by a blissful week of nothing. Well, not really nothing but at least a slowing down of the hectic schedule.  More time to stop and sit, eat, read, laugh, play and be.  This year was particularly I was mindful of how special this time was.  I will admit I had to stop myself from being crabby and resentful because I was still cooking, washing dishes, planning meals etc. but about three days after Christmas I gave myself a good talking to.  Did I not realize that there is precious little years left when all 6 of my children will be with me for the whole Christmas season?  Couldn't I enjoy the sleeping in, a couple sit down breakfasts, having Daddy home?  Didn't I notice the the little kids and the big kids playing together whether it be a board game or a Nurf Gun war.  Stop being crabby, and be in the moment. So I changed my attitude and it was wonderful.   I am not ready for the real world to creep back in and intervene in our time together but I can see it is inevitable and necessary.  People are getting restless.  Hubby is complaining about the cold and wanting to move to Virginia (a yearly occurrence) and I think my patience for Metallica is at the end of its very fine rope. It is kind of like entering the ocean:  (think cold Atlantic) you just have to dive in and you will be fine.  The more you think about about it the more painful it will be.  5:40 am it is then!

What I was planning on writing about wasn't the end of Christmas vacation but about one of my favorite Christmas traditions. ( Funny how the fingers have a mind of their own.)  In our home Santa brings all the presents except one gift from Mom and Dad   I know different families have different ways of doing things but this is what we have always done and it works for us.  When our oldest celebrated her first Christmas I came up with the idea of Mom and Dad giving a book for Christmas.  Her first Christmas the book was The Polar Expressed signed by us with a message of encouragement to always hear the bells of Santa's Sleigh.  My thoughts were (and still are) books are timeless, when the children leave home the will have their own small library and we could continue to give books them books through their adult years.  The irony is that no one else really cares about this tradition.  Oh it's Mom and Dad's book.  The book gets lost among the boxes, toys, wrapping and excitement of the moment.  But that doesn't bother me because I know the books will resurface at their appointed time and be a source of  joy.  When all the other gifts of Christmas are gone each of my children will have a shelf of books in their own home that they can pull out and read.  They can see the messages of each of their Christmases written in the front cover from their parents.  They will read for the first time or re-read a book and finally realize why that book was purchased for them in that year.  They will remember all their Christmases and they will remember us.  The books vary: children's picture books, Christmas books, poetry, biography, science, history and now adult books. Some times a book is devoured Christmas afternoon.  Sometimes over the Christmas week.  Some times the book is not read until a few years later.  That is ok with me.  Each book will be read at the time it needs to be read.  This is really my tradition  I spend the whole year searching for the perfect book for each child for that year.  I have lists in the Amazon cart of books that look promising and when December rolls around I make my final decisions.  My husband supports me but doesn't really get into it the way I do.  He too loves to read but does not share my need to own a book that has gotten under my skin.  But then again he owns lots and lots of cds!

If you are wondering, this year's books included:
5 year old- a picture book, Yes, Virginia there is Santa Claus.  The story is timeless and this edition has beautiful pictures.
8 year old- he is just starting to take off in his reading.  The Adventures of Loupio by Jean Francois Kieffer.  A graphic novel about the adventures of Saint Francis.  It was a hit!
11 year old-this daughter struggles with Dyslexia.  She loves stories, has a wonderful imagination and will devour any audio book you give her.  Finding a print book for her is always a challenge.  This year I hit gold.  The Illustrated Stories from Shakespeare by Osborne Books.  It was the right reading level and she loves Shakespeare!  One of my favorite parts of Christmas break was seeing her curled up by the Christmas tree reading her book.
14 year old. She is into poetry right now so she got a beautiful leather bound book of poetry titled Poems Every Catholic Should Know by Joseph Pierce.
17 year old.  He is a challenge.  He doesn't read as much as he use to.  When he was homeschooled he read all the time.  Unfortunately, high school English classes and the need to analyze everything paired with stupid smart phones has decreased his urge to read.  The book I wanted to get him did not come in time. Two days before Christmas we were at the book store desperately searching for the right book.  My husband knew I would not leave without something.  After lots of searching and discussion we came up with A Walk in The Woods by Bill Bryson.  I wanted something fun, lite and that he could just enjoy.  He has read half of it as of this moment.  Hopefully he will finish.
The oldest (20 today).  She is also challenging as she is a "judge a book by it's cover" sort of a gal.  If it is something she is interested in she will read it in one sitting.  Pushing her to try something new is a challenge.  This year we gave her A Prayer for Owen Meany by John Irving.  One of my favorite  and recommended to me by my husband when we were first dating.  She has not cracked it open.  I knew she would't but some day she will.  And when she does she will like it.  

Well, it is off to bed.  5:40 will be coming soon.  Excuse the typos and misspellings as I have only proofed this once.

Hope you are enjoying the 12 Days of Christmas and whatever traditions your family has that makes it special.