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!
Tuesday, April 18, 2017
Sunday, March 12, 2017
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."
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."
Wednesday, February 15, 2017
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.
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.
Monday, January 2, 2017
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.
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.
Saturday, December 10, 2016
Hypocrite
My 14 year old came home from school the other day with the usual respond to "how was school?". Then I remembered to ask her the "new" question I have been trying to use, "tell me what you observed today." Her response was, "I observed that I was angry because there is a bake sale for Planned Parenthood going on. It is the most advertised bake sale I have seen and there are many groups involved. I am really angry." Oh! Ouch! So we talked about it. I suggested she could always start a pro-life group at the school. Her response was sobering, "Who would join? They would just look at me like...." and she petered off. I of course continued to toss and turn many thoughts in my mind. Do other people spend so much of their time talking to themselves? I wonder. At first I was proud of her for her outrage. But then I got kind of nervous. She has the gumption to actually try to start a pro-life group. Oh my! Panic set in. She will be picked on and made fun of! She would not take that sitting down. She would retaliate. Total High School Panic set in: my mind-which goes from 0-60 on how bad something can be in a matter of seconds was reeling with unpleasant scenarios . But what was more sobering was when I realized what a hypocrite I was. I had just told my daughter to put herself on the line for her beliefs. I had just told her to do what I am too much of a chicken to do. WIMP!!!! Why? I had just seen a Pro-Abortion/Pro-Choice Facebook post that like my daughter made me angry and sad. But I said nothing. Whenever I see these post I tell myself that "I don't want to make social-media political. It is not the venue for a true discussion, give and take of ideas. It is fun and I enjoy it that way. Plus, people must know I am prolife, I change my pro-file picture on the anniversary of Roe v Wade." And well, I am Catholic. Really I am just a chicken. I am too scared to respond because people won't like me, they may even unfriend me!!! I will stand tall for my beliefs among a group of like minded people, I will stand on a street corner and pray in front of an abortion facility in front of strangers but I will not say what I believe in front of people that I know don't share my belief. I am afraid of sounding idiotic in front of friends and family. I need to get the thesaurus out and find more words for hypocrite. Remember the rule our parents taught us? You don't talk about religion, politics or money in polite conversation.
So I decided to poor myself a glass a wine and ask the Holy Spirit to use me to say what He wanted said and do a blog post. Big Chicken that I am.
Here is my train of thought and it is not a new train of thought either, it has been rattling around in my mind for awhile (This is the musing blog remember). How can any woman who has been pregnant and given birth support the killing of an innocent and defenseless baby? Here is when people get angry and unfriend but if I am truly willing to die for Christ isn't this what it means?
When I was a senior in college I remember having this debate with my my roommate who was very pro-life and a few other of us who were "pro-choice" side. I knew the arguments, I knew the rhetoric, I was an enlightened college student. "Women would die without legal abortion, it is a woman's body, it is her decision, what about rape? or serious disability? Or what about the woman's life?" I even said, "I would never do it but it is not my decision for other women." I knew it. I believed it. Plus there were more important things to worry about in the world: the environment, poverty, helping people.
Fast forward seven years. After 4 pregnancy tests we finally accepted the fact that we were pregnant. (yes, it took us that many tests including one at the doctors to believe this had actually happened! Now we know better.). I can't say that I changed my beliefs over night. What I can say is that if you follow the path God has given you and you are open to His plan He will lead you and you will grow in His Grace. God gave me the vocation of Motherhood. And by saying yes to that vocation I have grown in ways I never would have imagined. When you have a child you want the best for him/her. That desire paired with an amazing church community spurred me on to asking questions as to why the church teaches what she does. Instead of listening to sound bites or cultural knowledge on what the Church teaches I began to ask questions, read, study and learn. And what I learned was amazing. From the Church's beautiful teaching on sexuality, to St. John Paul the Great's "Feminine Genius", to recognizing the humanity of the persons (different ones, at different times) growing in me, my heart was soften. I also, through the years, read many different sources (both pro-life and pro-abortion) as to the history of the movement. Did you know Margaret Sanger was part of the Eugenics movement? She wanted abortion available to poor and minority women so we could "weed out the undesirables". And being the nerd that I am every time I was pregnant I read more and more about what was happening with my body and my baby's. It is amazing. My children challenge me daily to grow and become a better person. From the moment of their conception every single one of them has helped me grow closer to God. EVERY SINGLE ONE: even the baby I miss carried two months ago, the night of the third presidential debate when the candidates were debating the humanity of the the unborn. The irony of that was not lost on me.
My thoughts continued to muse around in many different directions. There are some people I know that will be upset and angry by what I wrote. There are some people I know who don't believe the same as me but they are also the ones I can sit with a cup a tea and really chew on this and discuss it. I have always enjoyed those relationship. We may disagree but we can discuss and learn from each other in a respectful atmosphere. AHAH! Isn't that what it is about? Not tolerance as defined by our society but love and friendship because we are all brothers and sisters in Christ. Why do we treat each other with respect? Not because we tolerate each other. Not because it is the nice thing to do. No, we love each other because we are made in the image and likeness of our God. Each one of us. Every single one of us on this planet (which is mind blowing) is made in the image and likeness of God. Each one of us is loved by God. And each one of us, BORN or UNBORN should be treated with respect, and love. Simple as that.
And what about my 14 year old? Oh boy! I don't know what she will do. But I will remind her of what I just said. That we are all God's children. Even though you may not agree or support what the bake sale entrepreneurs are doing. You are still called to love, honor and respect them because they are your siblings in Christ. You don't have to support their cause. You don't have to like what they are doing. You certainly don't have to buy their baked goods. You can protest against the injustice you see. But you always, always should remember to do it in love and say a prayer for them that their hearts will be soften.
Easier said than done, I know.
As for me. I need to take my own advise! Social media may not be the venue to have these discussions but I should not fear standing up for what I believe as long as I too remember to do it in love.
So I decided to poor myself a glass a wine and ask the Holy Spirit to use me to say what He wanted said and do a blog post. Big Chicken that I am.
Here is my train of thought and it is not a new train of thought either, it has been rattling around in my mind for awhile (This is the musing blog remember). How can any woman who has been pregnant and given birth support the killing of an innocent and defenseless baby? Here is when people get angry and unfriend but if I am truly willing to die for Christ isn't this what it means?
When I was a senior in college I remember having this debate with my my roommate who was very pro-life and a few other of us who were "pro-choice" side. I knew the arguments, I knew the rhetoric, I was an enlightened college student. "Women would die without legal abortion, it is a woman's body, it is her decision, what about rape? or serious disability? Or what about the woman's life?" I even said, "I would never do it but it is not my decision for other women." I knew it. I believed it. Plus there were more important things to worry about in the world: the environment, poverty, helping people.
Fast forward seven years. After 4 pregnancy tests we finally accepted the fact that we were pregnant. (yes, it took us that many tests including one at the doctors to believe this had actually happened! Now we know better.). I can't say that I changed my beliefs over night. What I can say is that if you follow the path God has given you and you are open to His plan He will lead you and you will grow in His Grace. God gave me the vocation of Motherhood. And by saying yes to that vocation I have grown in ways I never would have imagined. When you have a child you want the best for him/her. That desire paired with an amazing church community spurred me on to asking questions as to why the church teaches what she does. Instead of listening to sound bites or cultural knowledge on what the Church teaches I began to ask questions, read, study and learn. And what I learned was amazing. From the Church's beautiful teaching on sexuality, to St. John Paul the Great's "Feminine Genius", to recognizing the humanity of the persons (different ones, at different times) growing in me, my heart was soften. I also, through the years, read many different sources (both pro-life and pro-abortion) as to the history of the movement. Did you know Margaret Sanger was part of the Eugenics movement? She wanted abortion available to poor and minority women so we could "weed out the undesirables". And being the nerd that I am every time I was pregnant I read more and more about what was happening with my body and my baby's. It is amazing. My children challenge me daily to grow and become a better person. From the moment of their conception every single one of them has helped me grow closer to God. EVERY SINGLE ONE: even the baby I miss carried two months ago, the night of the third presidential debate when the candidates were debating the humanity of the the unborn. The irony of that was not lost on me.
My thoughts continued to muse around in many different directions. There are some people I know that will be upset and angry by what I wrote. There are some people I know who don't believe the same as me but they are also the ones I can sit with a cup a tea and really chew on this and discuss it. I have always enjoyed those relationship. We may disagree but we can discuss and learn from each other in a respectful atmosphere. AHAH! Isn't that what it is about? Not tolerance as defined by our society but love and friendship because we are all brothers and sisters in Christ. Why do we treat each other with respect? Not because we tolerate each other. Not because it is the nice thing to do. No, we love each other because we are made in the image and likeness of our God. Each one of us. Every single one of us on this planet (which is mind blowing) is made in the image and likeness of God. Each one of us is loved by God. And each one of us, BORN or UNBORN should be treated with respect, and love. Simple as that.
And what about my 14 year old? Oh boy! I don't know what she will do. But I will remind her of what I just said. That we are all God's children. Even though you may not agree or support what the bake sale entrepreneurs are doing. You are still called to love, honor and respect them because they are your siblings in Christ. You don't have to support their cause. You don't have to like what they are doing. You certainly don't have to buy their baked goods. You can protest against the injustice you see. But you always, always should remember to do it in love and say a prayer for them that their hearts will be soften.
Easier said than done, I know.
As for me. I need to take my own advise! Social media may not be the venue to have these discussions but I should not fear standing up for what I believe as long as I too remember to do it in love.
Saturday, November 12, 2016
Quiz
Here is a quick quiz for you today. No worries, it will be easy. Name two sounds that happen in the middle of the night that will rouse a mother for the deepest wells of sleep to an immediate fight or flight stance?
I am taking a poll. I think answers are the phone ringing in the middle of the night and the sound of a child gagging (you know, that sound that lets you know something will be spewing any moment.).
When these two sounds happen a mother is battle ready in less than a nano second. In the case of the phone a father will also react but I still think it is a second behind the mom. In the case of the gagging, well I would want to sleep through it if I could and I hold no grudges, it is just the way we are wired.
The day after the presidential election I, like so many other Americans, was walking around in a stupor. But unlike most it was not because I stayed up all night watching the returns. It was because I was rudely and brutally awakened by the two worse sounds you could here in the middle of the night. 11:30 pm I was jolted from the most wonderful sound sleep by the phone announcing "College Girl". I was out of bed, heart in my throat and pounding wildly in my ears before the end of the first ring. "WHAT'S WRONG!?" came out of my mouth and a silent "oh God, please" was offered up. The answer was confusing the still asleep side of my brain. "He is winning."
"ARE YOU OK?" (and yes, I was shouting).
"Yes, he is winning, people are cheering, people are crying."
"WHAT?! ARE YOU OK?"
"Yea, oh, were you asleep? I thought you would be watching the election."
And the conversation continued in this vain until my brain woke up enough to realize College Girl was very ok and was going to continue talking about this if I didn't put a stop to it immediately. "Good night, I will talk to you tomorrow."
Poor husband was standing there as bewildered as myself and muttered, "what was that?"
"I don't know, something about Trump. Go back to sleep, she is fine. Though she won't be if she does that to us again." Fortunately, I am can fall back to sleep quickly if I haven't fully woken up. My husband can not.
Fast forward 6 hours. My subconscious recognized the sound of a child about ready to throw up and allowed me to scoop the five year old up and off his brother as he was climbing over him heading towards me before I was fully awake. Get out of bed, scoop, turn away from bed, run while noting to self, "when did the 8 year old show up in the bed?" Also pondering why the said 5 year old passed the bathroom on the way to my room, gagging and heaving, to announce he did not feel well. What is up with that?! Luckily, it was a false alarm that produced no huge mess. 5:30 am perfect time to cook a 4 course breakfast for a very hungry and awake 5 year old.
I spent the rest of the day drinking lots of coffee and wondering how many hours of my life those two sounds stole from me.
I am taking a poll. I think answers are the phone ringing in the middle of the night and the sound of a child gagging (you know, that sound that lets you know something will be spewing any moment.).
When these two sounds happen a mother is battle ready in less than a nano second. In the case of the phone a father will also react but I still think it is a second behind the mom. In the case of the gagging, well I would want to sleep through it if I could and I hold no grudges, it is just the way we are wired.
The day after the presidential election I, like so many other Americans, was walking around in a stupor. But unlike most it was not because I stayed up all night watching the returns. It was because I was rudely and brutally awakened by the two worse sounds you could here in the middle of the night. 11:30 pm I was jolted from the most wonderful sound sleep by the phone announcing "College Girl". I was out of bed, heart in my throat and pounding wildly in my ears before the end of the first ring. "WHAT'S WRONG!?" came out of my mouth and a silent "oh God, please" was offered up. The answer was confusing the still asleep side of my brain. "He is winning."
"ARE YOU OK?" (and yes, I was shouting).
"Yes, he is winning, people are cheering, people are crying."
"WHAT?! ARE YOU OK?"
"Yea, oh, were you asleep? I thought you would be watching the election."
And the conversation continued in this vain until my brain woke up enough to realize College Girl was very ok and was going to continue talking about this if I didn't put a stop to it immediately. "Good night, I will talk to you tomorrow."
Poor husband was standing there as bewildered as myself and muttered, "what was that?"
"I don't know, something about Trump. Go back to sleep, she is fine. Though she won't be if she does that to us again." Fortunately, I am can fall back to sleep quickly if I haven't fully woken up. My husband can not.
Fast forward 6 hours. My subconscious recognized the sound of a child about ready to throw up and allowed me to scoop the five year old up and off his brother as he was climbing over him heading towards me before I was fully awake. Get out of bed, scoop, turn away from bed, run while noting to self, "when did the 8 year old show up in the bed?" Also pondering why the said 5 year old passed the bathroom on the way to my room, gagging and heaving, to announce he did not feel well. What is up with that?! Luckily, it was a false alarm that produced no huge mess. 5:30 am perfect time to cook a 4 course breakfast for a very hungry and awake 5 year old.
I spent the rest of the day drinking lots of coffee and wondering how many hours of my life those two sounds stole from me.
Sunday, October 23, 2016
Yesterday morning I found myself ALONE, in my HOUSE, for 4 + hours! It was amazing. It was quiet. It was peaceful. It was a gift. After doing nothing for an hour except searching the internet for alternative presidential candidates (I am thinking of voting for Vermin Supreme-everyone gets a free pony and not brushing your teeth would be against the law! -Just kidding. I think) I decided I needed to be productive during this time of uninterrupted bliss. Ah... what to do? Scrapbook? Exercise? Phone a friend? NAH! Wash the kitchen floor! Yes!!! Whoa there Lynn! You lead an exciting life. Well, that's the thing right? 20 years ago I would have thought I was crazy. But you realize that it is the simple things in life that really add to your joy and peace. I did something I don't get to do very often, I put on some of my favorite music (no -NOT Bruce). This artist is what my children refer to as "Mommy music." And that she is. If you have never heard Marie Ballet I would highly recommended her. Her music speaks to a mother's soul no matter what stage of motherhood you are in. Listening to her is a mini retreat. It is a way to center yourself in what really matters. She understands where you are coming from and she helps you move forward. No matter how many times I listen to her there is always one or two songs that speak to me at that moment, that day, about where I am in my life. I am reminded of God's love for me and how He has called me into this vocation. I am renewed with strength. I washed and sang. I cried a little, And I thoroughly enjoyed myself. Ahh. I looked around my clean, sparkly domain and smiled with peace and success. I turned to leave the kitchen and tackle the next project, folding laundry, when I heard 5 people explode into the house with wet, muddy boots, and exclaim, "MOM! Where are you?"
If you have a chance today. Take a listen to some of Marie's songs. You won't mind when your clean kitchen floor has mud prints on it!
http://www.mariebellet.com/
If you have a chance today. Take a listen to some of Marie's songs. You won't mind when your clean kitchen floor has mud prints on it!
http://www.mariebellet.com/
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