TV Detox

When we have a new baby or are sick, I find we really lean on television to make those hard days go more smoothly. In the moment I am so grateful for Netflix, but after even a few days of reckless bingeing on super hero shows (our latest favourite), I can already feel the consequences. For me, TV encourages me to be sedentary. I don't have to entertain anyone and, honestly, I get drawn in by the flashing lights and drama of their shows. For the kids, it becomes their sole focus. "What can we watch today? Just one more? I didn't get to pick MY favourite!" It gets exhausting and honestly tempting to just give in and watch all our waking hours just to keep the whining down. The thing is, TV loses its value as a treat when it's being watched all the time. So, we're left with a bad habit we need to break.

In my experience the best option is to go cold turkey. I try not to make a big deal out of it. When they ask I just say "not right now" and offer another activity instead. They need to be eased back into self directed play. With that in mind, I get involved as much as possible. Besides just turning them outside (an obvious choice in the warm weather), I make sure I have an arsenal of activities ready. Sometimes I find a project they can look forward to over a whole week is a great distraction. For example, this week we're making a papier maché volcano. We've already made the structure, so now we're waiting for it to dry (may take a while as preschoolers are of the more is more school of thought when it comes to paste use). Once it's dry we'll paint it and once that dries we'll do the baking soda and vinegar eruption. In between I've stocked them up with lots to colour, some easy science projects and things like modeling clay. I'm also adding more reading chapter books out loud for restful moments.

It takes a lot of patience, but all of that is worth it to see the fog lifted off their brains. I love TV as much as the next person but there is such a thing as too much.

Love Letter: Biggest Boy

I've decided that with a new baby coming, it would be a good idea to write a little letter to my older kids so that they can look back and know that regardless how many kids we have, each of them is precious and beloved. This is the second in my four part series, focusing on my second born child.

I often wonder how I should think about you. You're my big boy. My little man. My first born son. My easy baby. Finally a preschooler. We escaped your terrible twos (and dare I say more terrible threes) relatively unscathed. In my head you're still that chubby baby with a grown-up name, even though you're sprouting up in size and wisdom. I can still remember the first time I held you, and your eyes were exactly the same last night when you begged again to cuddle in bed with your Dad and I to watch a special about hockey. As much as you're like your siblings, you're also unique. Your eyes are blue, just like everyone else's, but they aren't an almond shape like theirs. Yours are a little bigger, a little more expressive, and they turn down at the corners, lending you a thoughtful expression. When you smile, your eyes turn into sweet little crescent moons, guaranteed to lift me out of any fog.

I love that you always have such a sparkle in your eyes, I find it hard to keep a straight face. You lift your eyebrows so high in surprise, joy, and laughter. I know it seems silly to talk so much about you physically, but you are so much your body. You own every part of your physical being. You have such incredible command of your body. You are like a force of nature. When you get up in the middle of the night, we can hear you coming from a mile away. Your presence is palpable, even when you think you're sneaking. And your sweet abandon with your body is so engaging and disarming, I find it hard to be firm with you as much as I should.

As much as you are physically in command of yourself, you're also very in touch with your spirituality and emotions. Your emotions come over you at lightning speed. As quickly as tears come to you, you can be soothed into a smile or even a laugh. You feel everything so deeply and love so intensely. You have an ability to love and show your love that is beyond my comprehension. You are quick to forgive, which is helpful since so often I am not the Mama you deserve. Because of your abiding capacity for love, you are rarely taken in by jealous thoughts. You would happily treat your sisters like princesses even if it means you're their servant and squire. Your brother is your friend, not a baby. He is your partner in crime, not your sidekick. You have never made either your brother or your baby sister feel too little or too slow to play with you. You'd happily play an easier game so that they can be included. Your personality is so strong and forceful, but you'd gladly push down your own needs for those around you. I have seen you gladly take the back seat so your siblings can have their moment. That being said, when it's your turn, you shine so brightly. You always have a story to tell, a dance to show us, or a song to sing. You wait patiently, but once it's your turn you demand the spotlight.

You, my son, are an incredible little man. You are curious, bold, fearless, and loving. You have taught me that no child is too young to dream big, love big, and live up to their potential as a child of God. You know as well as you know your own name that you love God and He loves you right back. Faith is a matter of fact for you. When you pray, you are chatting with your friend. When you sing, it's for the praise of God. No alleluia was ever so joyful as yours because you truly think being loved by God is something worth celebrating. You remind me daily how important it is to give my heart to God, because the rewards of peace and joy are greater than I could image.

Even though you are only four years old, I can see so much of the man you will become once you grow up. I can see a lot of your Daddy in you, and I don't think that will change as you get older. You already want to be just like him (you tell me every day) and you are his little mimic. You trail behind him, watching him and following his example of spirituality, generosity, and strength. As much as you drive me crazy some days with your wildness, energy and passion, it's those exact same qualities that make it impossible not to love you. You teach me so much in your openness and innocence. You have taught me the value of simple acts of love done quietly. That a smile or funny face can change the entire course of someone's day. Even in the womb you had a way of making people smile. I still remember when we took a recording of your heartbeat to share with your Godfather as a Christmas present to him. He couldn't tell what it was at first, but when we explained that the sound of the drum he was hearing was your strong little heart, he was as overwhelmed with love for you as we were. He was moved to tears and so were we. Even in the womb, you were breaking our hearts and making them new again. And I love you for every moment of glorious heart-breaking love you have shown me and those around you.

I love you for who you were the moment I knew I was pregnant. Even in the womb you were wild and joyful. The day you were born you already were looking to your Daddy more than anyone in the world. I love you for what you made of my heart the moment I was privileged to hold you and feel your love radiating towards me like an unquenchable flame. You made a place for yourself in my womb and my heart. You've known since birth how to push my buttons. I love you for who you are today, in this moment. The world hasn't touched your heart yet. You are entirely yourself, without care for what the world would like to make of you. You are unbroken and fearless passion. You are a walking emotion. I love you for the man I know you will become. You are too boldly yourself to ever fit into someone else's mold. You will become the type of man who will defy attempts to change your spirit, while still being the type of man that others will try to model themselves after.

I pray that as you grow, you continue to grow in the loving kindness so natural to you as you leave behind your child-like ways. I pray that you keep your joys, your faith, and your boldness. I pray too that no matter how big you get, you never get too big to love me with reckless abandon, in spite of my failings. I promise I will try to be an even better Mommy for you every day. No matter what, I will love you. Always and forever.

Love Letter: Big Girl

I've decided that with a new baby coming, it would be a good idea to write a little letter to my older kids so that they can look back and know that regardless how many kids we have, each of them is precious and beloved.

Dear Big Girl,

You and I, we have a long history. It all started around 8 years ago. I know you're only 5 right now, but I promise this will make sense. Before your Daddy and I were married or even dating, you were already a part of my heart. You see, one day in an uncommonly warm October, I was praying in a little chapel in a convent. I was sitting in front of Jesus, doing my best to give my heart to Him. For the first time in my life, God put a perfect picture in my head. I could see this vision with such abundant clarity and I still remember it today. What I saw was you, little girl. You were about 9 or 10 months old, sitting up on my lap. Your hair had that beautiful orangey-red tint it had when you were very little (I still see it in the summer light). I was sitting in our brown wooden rocking chair Nana and Granddad loaned to us and your Daddy was standing behind me smiling. We weren't sitting still, we were reacting to things around us. At the time, your Daddy didn't know, but ever since I told him I know it's given him lots of joy to know that God planned you before He had brought Daddy and I together. It took God another few years before that moment came to be, but I remember the day we were sitting together just like my vision, and I was so grateful. That's how, when I found out you were growing in my tummy, I knew you were a girl without any doctor having to tell me. Daddy and I even picked out your name before you were in my tummy because we both trusted God was going to bring you, our little dream girl, to us once we were married.

Since you've been born, you've given me so much joy. You have been the source of so many firsts for me. You made me a Mommy and through you I've learned so much more about love, caring, and compassion that I could ever have dreamed of knowing. You have always been a joyful, thoughtful and loving little lady. When I feel like I'm failing you as your Mum, you find a new way to show me that even though I'm not perfect, you keep turning out beautifully despite me. I love everything about you, from head to toe and all the in-betweens. If I had to pick one thing about you to say was my favourite part, I'd probably say how loving you are. You love your little brothers and your sister, your Daddy and I with a love I can only hope to emulate. You love yourself in a way that is completely unselfish and not at all vain. You demand of others the same unselfish love and respect. I also love how fierce you are in the face of injustice. When something doesn't make sense to you, or when someone is trying to hurt you, your gentle exterior melts away and you are so brave. You don't scream or hit, you use your words and stand your ground. Sometimes you even do this with your Daddy and I if you feel so strongly that we're being too hard on you. In the moment that may be difficult to deal with, but in the end I love so much how much you respect yourself that you won't face what you see as an injustice with quietude. As you get older, please don't lose this part of yourself. I promise I will nurture it as best as I can. I also love your faith. Jesus isn't just an idea to you, He's your comfort and friend. When you're sad or afraid, I often hear you alone in your room, turning to God to give you strength. Your faith is so natural, so unassuming. It's part of who you are at your core.

I could spend the rest of my life telling you everything about you that I love, but for today just let me say that I love you. I love you for everything you are to me and our family and our friends. I love you for the way you love others. I love you for the way you love yourself. As you get older, I can only hope that these beautiful parts of you that shine through even at the age of 5 keep getting brighter and stronger. I can already tell you're going to be an incredible woman. The kind of woman who takes the whole world on and challenges everyone around you to be a little better than just good enough.

Thank you for making me a Mummy. Thank you for teaching me what motherhood really means. Thank you for being my precious daughter, my collaborator, my co-conspirator, and my friend. Thank you for loving me, even through my worst days.

I love you, little lady. Always and forever.

Easter Without the Bunny

Every year since we've had kids we've tried to find a way to balance Easter with it's fictional side kick, the Easter Bunny. We're not so big on loading the kids up on candy, and aren't entirely keen on having to have what is essentially another opportunity to drain our pocketbook for toys our kids will forget about in a matter of minutes. We have a hard enough time with the seemingly unavoidable consumerism that has taken over Christmas, to willingly participate in the same misguided excess at Easter seems too much. So when push came to shove this year, we simply opted out of the Bunny of it all, and dove more deeply into the real reason for celebration, the death and resurrection of Jesus. And you know what? The kids didn't notice. They didn't complain. They didn't ask where their baskets were. We had lots of special family gatherings, ate more than our fair share of desserts and enjoyed each other. A little bit of chocolate found its way into their hands, which I had no problem with at all, as it came as the loving gift of family and not at the hand of a bunny on steroids.

So if we didn't have the Bunny, what did we do instead? After a long, TV free Lent (excluding joyful breaks for Papal election fun, a few very special feast days and Sundays), we watched a movie or two. The kids were overjoyed with the idea, although often they would just wander away from the TV to play. Go figure. We read lots of books. We enjoyed their Daddy's first 4 day weekend since they were born (excepting of course the birth of children). We ate home made hot cross buns (not exactly the best buns ever made, but the kids LOVED them. There's no accounting for taste). We went out for a big lunch at both our parents' places (ham and turkey!) and had our own quiet ham dinner. We talked a lot, played even more, and delighted in wearing our new Easter clothes. Each of the kids got to feel their baby brother kicking them through my belly! And that's just what happened at home.

The big thing that we did this weekend was celebrate Jesus and His gift to us! On Friday, we went to the Solemn Good Friday Liturgy, which was a few hours long. The two young ones fell asleep (baby girl on me, and little boy on our new baby boy's Godmother), but woke up in time to venerate the Cross. Little boy knelt and lovingly kissed the Cross with such complete faith I could barely hold back my tears. Big brother and sister also venerated the Cross with the same child-like faith. They've each heard of the Passion, death and Resurrection of Jesus, so they drank in the liturgy. We were blessed to have a sign language interpreter for our hearing impaired parishioners, and big girl was enraptured with her facial expressions and hand gestures. During the Psalm, which has a repeated refrain for the congregation, she attempted to imitate with some little success the complex sign language.

On Saturday night, I attended the Vigil Mass while the kids stayed home with their Dad. If I didn't have the pee every few minutes, I doubt I would have noticed that it lasted a marathon 3.5 hours! As I sat and listened to the history of salvation through the 9 readings and 7 psalms, I felt my heart drawn up in gratitude. I felt myself at each reading echoing the beautiful Hebrew phrase "Dayenu", it would have been enough, and with each new reading and then the sacrifice of the Mass I was reminded that God always goes beyond enough with His children. It made me want to be a better Mom, who doesn't allow "enough" to be my measure for how I show my love to my children.

On Sunday, we woke up bright and early. I had a dessert to get ready for our family lunch at the in-laws, which I managed in no time. Once the kids got up, I quickly got the kids dressed in their finery. The girls each had new dresses, and the boys got one more use out of their adorable dress suits (sadly biggest boy has outgrown his now). My husband and I did our best to look even half as nice as they did. He succeeded handily in his handsome grey pinstripe suit (he wore the dress pants, a nice shirt and the vest and he looked like a million bucks). As I'm getting to the point where I'm too pregnant for most of my fancier clothes, I opted for some dress pants and a nice shirt. Ideal for kid wrangling. Mass was wonderful! We had three infant baptisms, amazing praise music, and our usual high quality homily from our Pastor. The kids were filled with joy, and even baby girl got in on shouting ALLELUIA! All their talk revolved around gratitude, joy, and Jesus.

It was exactly what Easter should have been about. And no talk of bunnies. Or chickens. Or chocolate eggs. Or what present they were getting. We sat back and let the Church lead us through Easter, with faith, tradition, and gratitude. Without have to force them, our kids gladly kept their eyes on the Cross and joined with Mary in her awe over the empty tomb. The Easter Bunny is fine, and mostly harmless, but I'm glad we didn't put the effort into what would only have been a distraction for our kids.

Baby 5: Week 23

How Far Along: 23 Weeks and 3 days (16 weeks and 4 days to go! I'm quite behind this week! Oops!)

How I'm Feeling: The cold is really bugging me these days. I'm finding my skin especially dry these days so the frosty chill of a Canadian winter is wreaking havoc on my skin (not to mention my hair, but that's not exactly a crowning glory of mine at the best of times, so mehn). I've also had some itchiness where my stretchmarks are getting their own stretchmarks. Laugh all you want friends, but by the fifth baby the once moderate length and width of my first stretchmarks (which already look like a young Spiderman's elementary school project) have been far eclipsed by the supernova of stretchmarks that come with each new pregnancy. I wonder if Michelle Duggar has any unstretched skin left on her stomach after so many pregnancies... But I digress. On the up side, with only moderate amounts of caffeine, I am much more alert and full of energy. I know the kids are appreciating this upswing of energy. I'm sure the two oldest are very wary by now of this brief spurt of energy, as at least the oldest will remember the down swing brought on by third trimester sleepiness. Enjoy it while you can, kiddos. Daily art projects and monster truck dinky races for all!
 

What I'm Thinking: I've been having lots of wacky and funny pregnancy dreams lately, which have been giving me a laugh during the day. I'm not sure I can even explain half of them as they make no sense to me anyway. Last night I dreamt that I took a pilgrimage to Rome (Rome=Home, as my German friend often reminds me) with my family. We were there to have the Pope baptise this new baby (who was, by the way, born but had neither name nor gender). Apparently in my dreams I have access to the Pope, which is pretty cool and random. For a somewhat normal pretext (especially considering my parish priest is currently in the Holy City, and tweeted some great pictures from St. Peter's square), my dream quickly descended into wacky land. Let's just say it involved one of those wacky British sitcom style chase scenes where people are running out of different rooms in a long hallway (which was, by the way, the Papal Apartments in my dream). Swiss guards, toddlers, a stray donkey. You know, the usual. So yeah, pregnancy brain is hilarious when I'm asleep.
 

What I've Done This Week: This week was our Parish's Stewardship of Talent Fair, so I was pretty busy with getting ready for that. We also celebrated my wonderful husband's 30th birthday. All of this means that it looks like a series of bombs have gone off in my house. It was totally worth it for the sake of all the fun we had! We also got to meet my friend's 2 week old baby boy. He was totally adorable. It's a good thing I'm already pregnant, because for real my ovaries were clenching with new baby love!

What I Hope To Do Next Week: I'm kind of in survival mode right now. If I achieve anything, I will give myself a high five. We have a doctor's appointment on Friday and we'll hear the results of our 20 week ultrasound. That we haven't got an ominous phone call before now means that everything is fine, but I will be relieved when we hear all the details. We also have the chance to find out our baby's gender. We've never had the option to find out for free before, so we will see what we decide!

Praise for Dads

A friend of mine just had her third baby. (Yayyyyyy! Congrats Mama!) Her husband brought their two older kids to Church while she stayed home to rest (since their baby was born 2 days before) and while I was busy trying to congratulate the new Papa, I overhead a comment that made me want to lose my mind. While patting him on the back, an older gentlemen repeated more than once his congratulations, while reminding the new Dad, who was joyfully caring for his two older children solo, that he shouldn't really be congratulated on the birth as he had done NOTHING. I still have steam pouring out of my ears over this comment. I know for a fact that if my friend had been there, she would have sung the praises of her wonderful husband, but as she wasn't there he, cool as a cucumber, smiled very modestly and praised his wife for her excellence in all things.

So why am I, a woman who has personally pushed out 4 children, so upset? This couple's labour experience is %100 not my business, but I find the attitude that men have no job or place in the delivery room (or if you're super cool and do homebirths, in the living room!) so archaic and sexist. Yes, our husbands will never have to push a baby out their business, but that's okay, because they're not built to do that. Although my husband has said more than once that he would gladly take the pain rather than watch me fight through it. But that's not his job during labour. His job during labour is to stand by me, and be my rock. And he is. I have no idea how I would have survived my 4th labour without an epidural if he wasn't next to me, holding my hand, encouraging and empowering me, praying with me, and doing pretty much any reasonable thing I asked him quickly and with joy. The heart of service my husband shows me while I'm giving birth is nothing less than saintly.  Beforehand, he also did every thing he could to learn about my needs and desires for labour, so that when I was in la la land during contractions, he could be my advocate. Nobody touched me let alone gave me an intervention without having to go through him. The doctors would have had a better chance doing something he knew I wouldn't have wanted if they had asked a hungry tiger while wearing bloody zebra steaks for coats.

Gone are the days of men puffing cigars in the waiting room while waiting for doctors to let them know how their wives fared. Fathers of this generation know all the lingo for labour, have educated themselves on what the mothers of their children want, and are there in the delivery room doing all they can to make sure all she has to worry about is getting through the next contraction or push. By the time we're done having kids, my Husband will be able to write a PhD thesis about labour, and give practical courses on massage therapy and how to scare the crap out of medical staff who don't show respect. And let's not forget that in the case of 2nd, 3rd, or 4th siblings, Dads go home after no sleep and an emotional roller coaster wilder than the wildest theme park, and get back to the business of parenting while waiting for Mum and the new baby to be released from the hospital. While some would call that "babysitting" (and if you do in front of me, I apologise for the fact that I may accidentally punch you in the throat), I call that real parenting.

Anyone who knows the real men, the real Dads of this generation and how hard they work for the women they love wouldn't dare say that they don't do anything during labour and delivery or afterwards. These are modest good men not looking for any praise, but that doesn't mean taking a swipe at their dignity and contribution to the life of their family is right. It's absolutely shameful that anyone should assume they have to right to even joke like that with the Dads of our generation. Men who would think to say that men like my husband or my friend's husband did NOTHING during labour, have a lot to learn about what it means to be a real man in this day and age.

They're Watching

For anyone who's ever tried to sneak a snack or take a bathroom break, this will come as no surprise: Your kids, both big, small, and tiny, they're watching you. All the time. And listening too. Heaven help us. Don't believe me, watch their pretend games. How often have I seen my sons pretend to be cabinetmakers, or my daughters pretend to be cooking, and vice versa. Or less pleasant mimicking like... sitting on their behinds watching TV eating popcorn, repeating less than pleasant phrases, or whatnot.

It's not news that our kids are little sponges. We rely on that when we're trying to teach them new words, how to walk, and how to act. The tricky thing is that they're sponges even when we're not in teaching mode. That time you road raged. Yeah, they saw that. That time you only brushed your teeth for 2 seconds before walking out the door. Their eyes were glued to you. When you wore the same outfit for an entire week because you didn't want to do laundry. They noticed. They may have been grossed out. That book you were reading. They're going to check it out when you're not looking. When you turned on Dr. Phil and stared with rapt attention regardless of what was going on. They watched you. Then they watched him. When you complained about your friend/parent/spouse/in-law/stranger to a friend over coffee while you had that playdate. They stored up those words, that facial expression, and your feelings.

If you're like me, the very thought of this makes you want to run in terror, and go buy your kids some industrial quality earmuffs and blinders. Just a tip, that would be weird looking, and probably still wouldn't work. So, while I'm busy sheltering my kids from all the evils of the world, I'm sitting here pounding my head on the desk remembering that I can't shelter them from me. The truth is that I shouldn't have to shelter them from who I am. They're going to see the cracks in my Momhood if there's a different me for when I'm talking just to them and this other, strange woman I show the rest of the world. Or maybe like me you're nicer out in public than you are behind closed doors. You know what I mean. We all have that super sweet way of dealing with the usual insanity of toddlers when we're out. When we're home, they're right in time out, no nice voice, not much patience, and more than a few heavy sighs.

So what can I do with these thinking, feeling, loving little sponges? I can use them as inspiration to be a better person, when I think no one's looking and when everyone's looking. Because if you have kids, they're always watching, listening and learning. They're the same wherever they are, so maybe I can be too. Maybe I can learn to be a woman I'd be proud to call my friend all the time. I want to give my kids the best model I can so that they don't have to ever hear me say "do as I say, not as I do". Some day they're going to leave my house, and I don't have to just pray they'll be good, responsible people, I can teach them through my daily example.

Pregnancy (Take 5)

I'm pregnant with our 5th baby! My heart is overflowing with joy and expectation! My husband is incredibly excited too, as usual, and joined me in informing anyone who would listen about our latest little miracle! We called, Facebooked, tweeted, and told everyone else we could in person, even whipping out my freshly peed on pregnancy test to show baby girl's Godmother when we found out as we were going out that evening.

I know at one point I thought to myself that maybe 4 was enough kids, but at some point my heart began to grow, to make room for another little soul to join our family. Once the post-natal fog lifted and life was getting back into order, it was so obvious to me that our family had room to grow. For the first time in the 6 years of our marriage, it took us about a year to conceive. Usually I was finding myself in possession of a positive pregnancy test between 6 and 9 months post-partum. That my youngest is 13 months might seem close to many people, but that is a huge gap in my mind! She's already walking (although crawls sometimes too), eats everything and anything, is incredibly social, sleeps like a champ, and has self-weaned. Her extended breastfeeding is the reason we didn't conceive sooner, and it was an incredible gift to both she and I. I had more recovery time for one. I also had more time to settle into a routine in our new house. I even managed to start getting more involved at our Church, which has meant a lot to me! I also found the energy to get myself started on homeschooling our eldest. With a June due date, we'll have the whole summer to recover before hitting the books again! For her, it meant longer bonding, better nutrition when she was under the weather, and lots of cuddles with Mommy.

So here we are, 5th positive pregnancy test in hand, excited beyond all belief and dedicated to enjoying every minute of it. One of the first things we did was upgrade our baby carrier to an Ergo because our Snugli had really worn out over the past three babies. We also picked up another pack of newborns Bummis diapers so we can exclusively cloth diaper from birth. I hit the grocery store and picked up 300 pre-natal vitamins (as I had run out and wanted closer to a year's supply) and have started to take them daily. With only very mild nausea I'm finding life is going on as normal, though I've been exhausted once naptime hits! The upside of my energy level staying basically the same is that my incredibly strong sense of smell which only happens when I'm pregnant is forcing me to start working on house work to keep the stinkies at bay.

The other big news pregnancy wise is that I got in touch with the Midwives at our local hospital. For most people who might read this outside of my province this may seem like not a big deal, but here in my province we've had to work hard to get Midwives with privileges at our hospital. They weren't available for my first three pregnancies, and they were on hiatus due to political issues during my fourth pregnancies. Today, with two full time midwives and one part-time midwife, I was able to make myself only second on their waiting list for June! Unless I risk out this basically guarantees me a spot! I have wanted to try for midwife care since I first heard of how midwives work, but this is the first time I've been able to sign up. I'll be sad that our regular baby-catching family doctor won't be our regular care provider as we have a beautiful relationship, but I'd do just about anything to have more personalised, natural birth focused care that won't have me alone with a nurse for hours on end. I find the nurses at our hospital range from incredible to absolutely awful. The nurse from my last birth would wait until my husband was out of the room and say all sorts of crazy things, like how I should stop being so noisy as it wasn't helping me labour. The upside about all of this is that's there actually a pretty good chance my family Doc will be in the hospital when I deliver as she is works in the Peri-Natal clinic and does regular rotations on the birth unit. I'll be praying that I get both a Midwife and my own well loved Doctor.

That's all so far. Get ready for belly pics, folks. I'm going to start taking them weekly so you can see how ridiculously fast my belly POPS!

For Her, Not for Me

As I'm sure most homeschooling families can attest, choosing to educate your children from home seems to invite a certain amount of discussions, questions, and criticism. Sometimes these conversations are eye opening, sometimes they make me want to close my eyes and shake my head. I have no doubt that if I had chosen private school for my child we'd still get questions, but it would be more about the uniforms and tuition fees than whether we were doing right by our kids. On top of that I know that if we had chosen public school, it would be treated as so matter of fact that the most we would have been asked was which school, what outfit for the first day, and what school supplies we'd purchased. No one would be asking me if my curriculum was sufficient, if the teacher was capable, or if I thought my daughter would thrive in either public or private school.

I appreciate there is a certain amount of curiosity surrounding homeschooling as it is not as common as the other alternatives. Most of the people that I had heard about being homeschooled were those who were taken out of public schools as the result of bullying. It's only now as an adult that I'm meeting those who choose not to join the public school system in the first place. A few of my friends are actually homeschooled children, and seeing what bright and socially capable they are, I'm actually very encouraged by our choice. I think that the so-called "weird" or "awkward" homeschooled kids aren't that way because they're homeschooled. I met plenty of "weird" or "awkward" kids in public school. All the socialisation in the world didn't change that. Often times those kids became magnets for bullies and spent more time trying to survive school than actually learning. If there seems to be a greater proportion of "weird" kids that are homeschooled, I'd suspect that's because their parents have pulled them out of public school so that they could focus on their education rather than on how to avoid being bullied or ostracised by their peers.

I know many people think I've drunk the special kool aid and that I've bought into some sort of hokum about how public school and teachers are evil, and I need to protect my kids from society so they don't turn into hoodlums and axe murderers. Seriously folks, that's ridiculous. While I see the difficulties of our public school system, and have even discussed them before, I do realise that some kids thrive in that scenario. I know lots of kids who excelled in the group learning scenario, made lots of friends, and came out the class president and valedictorian or whatnot. I value so highly what our teachers, principals, and other staff are doing for the kids in the system. They have tiny budgets, varied learning styles, complex material, and not enough hours in the day to connect with each and every student. They are incredible people, taking on the mantle of educating young minds, while receiving flak from students and parents alike for their teaching methods, quantity of homework, marking, etc etc etc. Over my years in the public school system I had many teachers who I realise now were experiencing an unimaginable level of burnout because they had tried so hard for so long to do what was best for the kids entrusted to them and simply had no more to give.

The fact of the matter is that while all of this came into consideration, the real reason we are home educating our child isn't because of our opinions about the public school system. I'm sure that if we sent her to school she'd do fine. Make a few friends, get a passing grade, and learn what she needs to learn. She'd have opportunities, experiences, make connections, and probably meet that one special teacher she'll look back on for years to come. All good stuff. All admirable and desirable. Plus, I'd get the pleasure of having one less duty around the house for the bulk of the day. But it's not about me. It's not about getting by or her being fine.

For me, homeschooling is a parenting choice. A choice based on each child and their individual needs. For lots of kids, public school is really the best thing. For others, private school is the way to go. For still others, homeschooling is the best avenue. Our choice to educate her at home isn't to shelter her from life, but to educate her in the way we think will best help her to excel, grow, and become who she is meant to be. After a lot of thought and prayer, and some initial resistance from both of us, we realised that the unavoidable truth is that homeschooling is not what we want, per se, but what she needs. That I can offer her this opportunity to learn in the way that is best for her is amazing and humbling. I am not unaware of the incredible responsibility I'm shouldering as her primary educator. I also know that with a lot of hard work, and by the grace of God, I'll look back and be happy we chose to accept this path for our family. This is a choice we're making as a family, for her sake, not for our own.

At the end of the day, questions are normal, especially with something so different from the norm. I still find it difficult to be given the third degree about this parenting choice from friends and strangers. (Not that everyone is giving us the third degree! So many of our friends are very excited for us!) As I was saying to a friend, you'd never corner a woman and berate her for breastfeeding or using a bottle (or for heaven's sake you shouldn't!). As strangers to the situation and the process behind the choice, we need to sit back and realise it's simply not our business. No parenting choice is taken lightly, from feeding, to diapering, to schooling. Each choice a parent makes is for their child, not for themselves. By all means, ask questions as a means to educate yourself on the choice. I'm more than happy to answer any and all questions in that light. However, if your question at any point starts with "Don't you know that...", "How could you..." or "What about..." or other judgement heavy lines, perhaps we would all be better served if you took to the internet or a book to find your answer. If a parent has come into a choice with prayers, discernment, and lots of research, all you're going to do by asking judgemental questions is to alienate them.

What I'm left with in all of this is that no matter what people ask, or how they ask it, we can keep our heads up because we know that this really isn't about us or what we want, it's about our daughter and what she needs. No amount of doubt or concerns from others can change the fact that we're doing the right thing for her, even though though we may not be doing right according to others.

Novena for Expectant Families

In my group of friends, there seems to be an annual wave of babies. For the first time in almost 6 years, I am not part of that wave. As a thank you for all the prayers I have been blessed with over my four pregnancies, I had the inspiration to say a Novena for the nine days before each family's due date. After I hatched the plan, I got to the business of picking 9 different Saints (or pairs of Saints where that made sense) that I found myself drawn to and wrote out a special prayer beseeching their intercession. Each day, I will start off with an Our Father, then say the prayer for that specific day, then end with a Hail Mary and a Glory Be. I have included below the prayers that I wrote in the order in which I intend to pray them. The only prayer that I didn't write was the prayer for St. Gerard Majella, who had a beautiful one already!

1. St. Gerard Majella

O great Saint Gerard, beloved servant of Jesus Christ, perfect imitator of your meek and humble Savior, and devoted child of Mother of God, kindle within (mother's name) heart one spark of that heavenly fire of charity which glowed in your heart and made you an angel of love.

O glorious Saint Gerard, because when falsely accused of crime, you did bear, like your Divine Master, without murmur or complaint, the calumnies of wicked men, you have been raised up by God as the patron and protector of expectant mothers. Preserve (Mother’s name) from danger and from the excessive pains accompanying childbirth, and shield the child which she now carries, that it may see the light of day and receive the purifying and life-giving waters of baptism through Jesus Christ

We humbly pray through Christ our Lord. Amen.

2. St. Anne and St. Joachim

St. Anne and St. Joachim, who were chosen to raise her who was to become the Mother of God, we come to place (parents names/family’s name) under your special care. We entrust them and their unborn child to you. Look upon this growing family with the abundant love of a Grandparent and place them in the care of your Grandson, our Lord Jesus Christ. Just as you raised Mary to be a faithful woman and worthy Mother of our Lord, teach (parents names) the virtues of godly parenthood and faithful service.

We ask all this through Christ our Lord. Amen.

3. St. Joseph

St. Joseph, adoptive Father of our Saviour, guide and teach (father's name) to model his life after yours. Help him as he supports (mother's name) through her pregnancy and delivery. Just as you quietly supported Mary and Jesus through your daily devotion, let him be the foundation on which his family can always rely. May God, through your intercession, teach him how to lead his family into greater holiness by his example of prayer, devotion, and selflessness. Bless (father's name) as he prepares to welcome this child with great joy and love. Help him to always recognise that every child is a gift granted from God who we are charged to care for as dutifully as St. Joseph and Our Lady cared for the Word who became flesh before their eyes in the stable in Bethlehem.

We make this prayer through Christ our Lord, who lives and reigns forever and ever. Amen.

4. St. Gianna Beretta Molla
 

St. Gianna, you gave your life for the sake of your child and became for all who hear your story a model of the sacrificing love of true parenthood. Draw (mother’s name) close to your motherly heart and whisper in her ear the wisdom of your abundant and endless love for your child. Embolden her heart to love her child without fear and to serve God through her witness of the daily love of her motherhood. Beseech our Heavenly Father, we pray, to bless (mother’s name) during this pregnancy and grant her a safe and healthy delivery.

We ask all this through Christ, who is Lord forever and ever. Amen.

5. St. Monica

St. Monica, mother of a great Saint, St. Augustine, help us to follow your example of constant motherly love and care. May God grant that the prayers we beseech for our children may, like yours, bring our precious and beloved children closer to the unending love of God. Draw this expectant mother into your heart and imbue her with the motherly virtues you lived unceasingly in your own life. Let her learn to rely fully on God in all her cares and concerns for her children throughout the years. We beseech you bring our pleas for (mother’s name) before the throne of God with the same devotion with which you prayed for your own child.

We ask all this through Christ our Lord. Amen.

6. Blessed John Paul II

Blessed John Paul II, we pray that through your intercession God will help (parents names) to teach their child about God’s love and salvation with the same fervour and humility that you did. We know you have a special care for all young people and their families, and so we entrust this young family to you, knowing you will intercede for them before our Holy Mother Mary and her Son, our Saviour.

We ask all this through Christ our Lord. Amen.

7. Blessed Zelie and Louis Martin

Blessed Zelie and Louis Martin, parents of the Little Flower, St. Therese de Lisieux, through your intercession may God grant (parents names) the patience and holiness to raise up their child(ren) to love God without reserve. Help (parents names) to follow your example of parenthood so that they may see their vocation as a married couple and as parents as an opportunity to grow closer to each other and to God. Help them to become an earthly image of Heavenly Love that their children will always desire to emulate in their own lives.

We ask this through our Lord Jesus Christ, who lives and reigns forever and ever. Amen.

8. Saint Elizabeth

St. Elizabeth, who against all odds became pregnant with a son in  your old age, John the Baptist, we beseech you to intercede on behalf of (mother's name). May her child, like your son, know from within the womb God's love and presence and once born become a messenger of God's Salvation. Fill (mother's name) with faith in God's Providence and trust in God's Will as she comes closer to meeting her new baby, now resting safely in her womb.

We ask this through Christ our Lord. Amen.

9. Our Lady

O Mary, who was born to be the living tabernacle of our Lord's flesh, give (mother’s name) the desire to grow in the virtues of the motherhood you demonstrated so perfectly for us. Sweet Mother, who was chosen as the earthen vessel into which God poured His Divinity and became Man, aid (mother's name) to repeat your “Yes” as she accepts her call to motherhood. Help her to imitate your quiet devotion as she works every day to protect and grow the life growing within her womb. Mother most dear, we give (mother’s name) unto your care, trusting you will draw her up into your arms and lay all her cares before your Beloved Son.
 

We ask for your intercession in the name of your Son, Jesus Christ, Our Lord. Amen.

Natural Family (Un)Planning

Let me start his off by saying that I love Natural Family Planning, or NFP. Many of my friends are complete pros at using it, and I find myself in awe of their faith in action. That being said, I must confess we're not exactly the best with NFP. We've done the reading and figured out the rudimentary facts of how it works. I have been able to look at it objectively and see that it is a wonderful, natural and intelligent way of looking at the gift of our fertility. Subjectively, however, I just don't feel that it's right for our family. From before we got married, my husband and I have always felt moved to simply let things come as they will. Any attempt to plan has always led us into great spiritual frustration, which is fruitless for ourselves and our family as a whole. When we have simply lived our lives according to the daily movements of our spirits, we have felt closer to God and to each other. I believe that God inspired the good people who worked out the science of NFP for the sake of His people. He created each of us, and so I trust that He has a plan for each of our families in how we should approach our fertility.  In my heart of hearts, I believe that when He created my husband and I, He created us knowing we would be happier following the voice of our spirits instead of the signs of NFP.

I know that I will accept whatever God gives me. I know that this is the same for my friends who use NFP. Let me clarify that we're not going to go above and beyond to try to conceive 100 children or whatnot. Thus comes our ideology of Natural Family UnPlanning (which I will not abbreviate, as it doesn't have the same clean sounding name as NFP). Even that's a bit of a misnomer. I realise that while I may not be trying to plan my family according to my means, circumstances, and the calling in my hearts, I am depending entirely that God has a plan for our family which He is revealing as we continue on. I guess the difference is that we're completely handing over the control over the scheduling to God. A great example is that right now as we speak, I, for the first time since the 2nd month of our married life, am not pregnant. My body needed a break, and our growing family needed extra attention, so God has worked in His plan that I won't be pregnant for now. This means that, as my husband is suffering with some medical issues, I have been able to devote my love and energy on him without shortchanging our kids. If I was pregnant right now, I would, knowing my history of pregnancy, be overly tired and cranky (okay, I'm still be cranky) and probably increasing in width as I decreased in my ability to do the physical tasks needed to help him cope with these medical issues. God has blessed me with a lack of fertility right now. If He chooses to bless me with fertility later, I will embrace it, and any children that come from that.

As I went in to tuck my little monsters in to bed when I got home from grocery shopping, I was struck by the immensity of God's blessings. If we had used NFP to observe our fertility, I wonder if we would have each of them. The only time we actively tried to have a baby was with our first child, and that was because we felt so strongly called to have her at the time. After her birth we researched NFP, but dropped our books in favour of simply allowing whatever would happen to happen. With 4 little miracles in our 6 years of marriage, I feel that we made the right choice to trust our fertility to God in this way. He took our simple offering and, as He does with all things, has made something greater than we could have imagined. He made us a family. A big, noisy, very messy, blessed family. I have never, not even once, regretted any one of them, even when they're acting insane and I'm feeling like I'm the ringmaster of a three-ring (or is that a 4-ring?) circus gone awry. I'm left at the end of each day exhausted, a little relieved, and a whole lot of thankful for each of them (even the one who has recently taken to biting. Ouch!).

When we were Franciscans, our Superior taught us that the greatest calling of spiritual poverty was to be able to trust entirely in Providence. I guess a part of us never let go of that little lesson, tucked into every homily, every formation day, and every chat we had with him. We've never had to go begging on the street like our holy brothers and sisters, but God has made us the benefactors of His great and continuous Charity through the hands and hearts of so many friends, family and even strangers. Our children have always had a roof over their heads, we've always had transportation, and we've never lacked for food. While we may lack patience some days (and often are at the bare acceptable minimum of clean socks), we always have an overflowing store of love in such abundance that I can easily imagine God doubling our family and still having more. So long as we're called to live this way, I know we will continue to rest entirely on God's mercy, trusting as always that His plan for us is for our good.

Stuff Parents Say

I was having a playdate with one of my fave lady friends the other day, and we got on the topic of the crazy stuff we find ourselves saying as parents. Not the usual talk of poop, umbilical stumps, pregnancy cravings or intense labour stories. We all saw that stuff coming (or if we didn't, it became normal so quickly it seems silly to dwell on). I'm talking about the completely random stuff. The "did I just say that?" kind of stuff. The stuff, that when taken out of context, sounds ridiculous at best or gibberish at worst. I've put the word out on Facebook and Twitter to hear a few of your favourite child induced rantings. Here's what I've gotten so far. I'll add more as it comes in:
"When dinosaurs are flying in helicopters it means clean up isn't getting done." from Nichole Bernier (@nicholebernier) [The author of the upcoming novel The Unfinished Work of Elizabeth D, which, after reading the previewed chapter on her website, has me very excited that such an intelligent woman can write so well and still find herself saying hilariously non-sensical things.]

"A bellybutton is no reason to be upset!" I said this gem myself. Oldest son was crying at bed time. I went upstairs to check it out and he wailed "I don't want anymore bellybuttons! I want a shiiiirt!" and before I could think of something sensible these words slipped out. That's the last time I put him to bed in just pj pants.

"Apples don't belong in blankets, people! Come on!" There's nothing I can say to make this sound good or normal.

"Stop chewing the table/chair/any furniture!" I can't believe how often I say this to non-teething children.

"I hope that's chocolate on his face. Please let that be chocolate. Did you give him chocolate at nap time? Oh no. It's not chocolate. Oh God. It's everywhere." A messy diaper spreads its grief.
What is it about our kids that they can make even the most reasonable adult sound vaguely out of touch with reality? Maybe it's the sleep deprivation. Or the hormones. Or the coffee high. Either way, keep it coming kids. If we can't laugh at ourselves, folks, who can? Actually, probably the kids. I'm pretty sure they're setting me up sometimes. Okay, time for more coffee.

Faith of a Child

Today three of my kids asked me a series of questions about Jesus. Why He died, how it happened, what it means that He's alive, is He on the cross still? Man oh man these kids are wild. All of this started because I put on some YouTube videos of Nichole Nordeman songs. The video for "Why" (seriously, go look it up) features images from The Passion of the Christ. They're used to seeing Jesus on the Cross. We're Catholic so we have some crucifixes in our house. I think what caught their attention was that the still images of Jesus were bloody, and looked painful. My first instinct was to turn off the video as quickly as I could, but before I had a moment to turn off the screen the questions started. The song moved on to another but the questions didn't last.

For some of the morning and all of the afternoon (after a nap which clearly reinvigorated their minds) I answered question after question. Some were repeated, a clear request for clarification. I pondered briefly just asking them to drop it, putting on some Sesame Street, and hoping that I wouldn't have to deal with the weight of the task. I have no problem with the kids knowing about Jesus. I delight in their innocent desire to know as much as possible about this man who they already loved, even without understanding the story of Salvation. I was just scared that I wasn't up to the task, that the words I used wouldn't be good enough, that I would confuse them, that they wouldn't understand. For all my fears, I felt a push to tell them everything I could, in whatever way I could, to help them know how much God loved them.

I won't bore you with all the details, but for the sake of clarity, I ended up telling the story of the life of Christ, from the Annunciation, to the Nativity, to the Sermon on the Mount (or at least the important details of God's love in the preaching of Christ), to the Crucifixion, Death and Resurrection of Christ. They sat with rapt attention, peppering me with question, teasing out more details than I had planned to tell them. Their active little minds, taking turns pushing the story a little further, trying to make sense of why a good man would be punished for the wrongs of all.

In the end, I don't know how much they understood, but I know that we have built a bit more of a foundation for their faith. The most incredible thing about any child is that when you tell them something, they'll believe you. Because you are their parent and they love you, they have no concept that you'd lie to them. As they get older I know they'll ask more tough questions, and I hope that I'll be able, by the grace of God, to rise to the task. I would hate to betray their trust by giving them anything less than the absolute Truth. Whatever they didn't understand today they will understand better as they older. They are happy to take the rest on Faith. And it renews my Faith to see what Jesus meant when He said we should have Faith like a child.

St. Joseph's Day

While much of the English speaking world is recovering from the green haze that is St. Patrick's Day (and God Bless that blue wearing Welshman, who was dragged in chains as a slave to Ireland, escaped back to Wales to return later as a Roman Catholic Bishop), we are celebrating the feast of St. Joseph, a favourite patron in our family for so many reasons. First of all, we have a son named Joseph. Secondly, my husband is a cabinetmaker and of course a father. St. Joseph is the patron of woodworkers and fathers. For many years my husband has felt a growing closeness to St. Joseph. With that in mind, I thought I'd share a few reflections on this Saint who is a daily example for our lives.

How can you not feel some love and affinity for this man? He was a hard-working man, the breadwinner for his small family. Carpentry is no easy trade. It can be back-breaking, and requires attention to both the big and the small picture. I love the idea of Joseph leaning over his work with the child Jesus watching on, probably playing amongst the curls of wood falling to the floor as Joseph's well-worn plane glides across the wood. A small act of creation and re-creation, patiently achieved under the watchful eyes of the Creator. I wonder too at what beautiful work Joseph and Jesus made together as the father taught his adopted son his trade. Something so ordinary in those days, but so extraordinary in the light of the Incarnation, the Creator putting a hand to shaping things anew.
God chose Mary for His Mother, and created her, immaculate and without sin. Her 'yes' allowed God to do His saving work from her womb, to the manger, to the Cross. She is there in the background of so many stories in the bible. Meanwhile Joseph is only prominently featured in the story of the Nativity. He is Mary's betrothed. Despite the fact that he could have cast Mary off and had her stoned, Joseph trusts the message of the Angel and joins her with a second 'yes', a 'yes' which protected her and the Child who would be born King of Kings, but brought public shame on himself. After carrying Mary and Christ child off to Egypt to protect them from Herod's murder of innocent children, Joseph fades from view, taking a backseat to his adopted son. The childhood of Christ is known more or less in the few moments shared in the Gospels. Joseph is there, like any father, supporting, loving and teaching, but asking no credit. I believe that just as He chose Mary, God chose Joseph as part of his plan for Salvation. Not every man could take on faith that Mary was carrying the Son of God, and ignore the appearance of scandal Mary's pregnancy brought to their lives. God chose a man who would trust in Him, and then after one great 'yes', spend the rest of his life saying a daily 'yes' to the duties of being a father to his adopted Son.

I'm sure it was no easy task raising Jesus, hearing Him declare He was in His Father's temple, after Joseph and Mary had spent several frantic hours racing around Jerusalem, trying to find Him. I'm sure, like any adoptive parent who hears "you're not my REAL father!", this simple phrase must have been hard for Joseph to hear. Still, he stood by his little family, and continued with devotion to raise up the Son entrusted to him. I think there's a lesson for all of us parents in the works of St. Joseph. Every child, be they are our own flesh and blood or adopted, are a precious gift to be cherished, nurtured, and protected. Be they the Christ child, or our own child, God has asked us to say 'yes' to being parents every day. I hope, like St. Joseph, I can do it quietly, knowing that my true reward at the end of my days will be seeing the wonderful people my children will hopefully become, and that they too will choose to love and serve the God who gave them to us.

St. Joseph, pray for us!

Faith to Grow With

In case it wasn't obvious by the former nun and former monk getting hitched business that is our life, and our 4 kids in 5 years, we are Catholic. Because our faith is so important to us, we are trying our best to teach our children about the faith they are inheriting from us. Our TV stand has an earthen tone Nativity (it doesn't look Christmas-y as it is in muted colours, so I don't feel ridiculous having it out year round. Plus, I loves me my baby Jesus!), a statue of St. Francis with a deer (a gift from the Franciscans for our baby girl's baptism. A nice replacement for our old statue we bought on our honeymoon that got knocked over and decapitated by oldest boy), and a small statue of Our Lady of Guadaloupe (bought when I was preggers with baby girl. She was with us in the delivery room and was a great focal point). Our house is also littered with a few pictures of our favourite saints (St. Mary, St. Joseph, St. Monica and St. Augustine, St. Padre Pio, and Blessed JPII) and a cross-stitch of the Prayer of St. Francis made by hubby's Mom. Thanks to both sets of grandparents and our friends, the kids also have a large collection of books related to the life of Christ and various Saints. When he was about 20 months old, our oldest son started to ask if he could take a rosary to bed with him, so he could have "his" Jesus with him. I'm not here to give you an inventory of our home, or trying to look holy or whatnot. I'm just trying to give a sense of the daily normalcy of our Catholicism.

To some people who don't share our values or our particular faith, this may look like brainwashing. You might see our statues, relics, rosaries and stash of Christian books, and think that we're forcing our beliefs on their young minds on a consistent basis. From the perspect of faith, of any faith mind you, not just Christian, a faith worth believing in is a gift that is worth sharing. Belief in a benevolent Creator, who has knows us in every way, is a great comfort as we go through our lives.

As those of you with small children know, everything they do feels like life or death to them, including whether or not they get to have another cookie. Given the fact that we as parents are not perfect, I find it important to be able to point them to a holy Mother and perfect Father to give comfort to them in their darkest hour, even if that darkness seems a little, well, melodramatic to us. We need to realise God made them, knowing that they'd be children, and then even in their littleness He knows them and wants to comfort them in all their struggles. Having the presence of God be real to them from birth can be a true gift that can help them in their frustrations and fears. God's Fatherhood can stand alongside our parenthood without getting in the way. His Fatherhood supports us, and makes good of our parenting when our children are small and we're still learning what it means to be a parent.

By the time they are teenagers it may already be too late to start introducing them to God in the authentic way we can introduce Him to a child who is still full of awe and wonder. In my experience with teenagers, their ability to have perspective on their lives is arrested by the thick fog of hormones, peer pressure, and the isolated life of junior high and high school. How many of us spent our teen years filled with anxiety and writing dramatic poetry about what we would consider now to be small problems? While I felt like I was being swallowed up by the drama in my life, I felt I couldn't talk to my parents because they simply didn't, wouldn't, or couldn't understand. I can see now that wasn't true, but as a teenager that's how I felt. It was in those times that my faith grew from the firm foundation of my childhood into something more personal. I was able to take the lessons of my childhood and use them in my own life. It was about this time that I started reading the Psalms. Nobody does drama quite like King David. I joined him in crying out to God in the depths of my despair, wanting so badly to trust that He would carry me through. And carry me He did. If my parents hadn't taught me about our faith, or spoke of God's love and faithfulness, I'm not sure where I would have turned.

I'm not saying that teaching our children about our faith is going to automatically help them face every problem with great fortitude and grace. I just know that some day, one of them will have a problem they are struggling with, a problem they think is bigger than them and than us. When they're faced with that problem I want to know that we've given them every resource we can to get them through it. The first time they need to utter a prayer not of thanksgiving, but of despair and hopelessness, I hope that praying to the God who they already know loves them, cherishes them, and protects them, will make it a little easier for them. If they know and trust in God, perhaps those troubles that come to them won't seem so great. I want to teach my children about God, because I want them to know they are never forgotten. There is a plan for them even greater than they can imagine. They are always loved. If that faith can start as a child, and stay with them through their teenage years and then into adulthood, I will be able to face them knowing that if I failed in all else, I can be sure I gave them one great gift that will be a testament of my love for them.

Ladies Night Out

I should preface this by saying that I don't get out often. Pretty close to never in fact. I'm lucky enough to have a lady friend who knows the value of time as a woman, instead of just as Mommy, and this lovely lady has been so kind as to encourage me to get out. She adds kindness upon kindness by organizing outings and even coming to get me to make it as easy as possible for me to take a night for myself. I even blogged about the sweet freedom of getting out with her before. She is a true blessing, and a saint in disguise (though barely disguised, her holiness emanates like the rays of the sun!).

Before she and I became good friends I literally never got out without the kids. I'm definitely an emotionally attached mother. I find it incredibly hard to leave the house, even when they're all asleep. The world can get really insulated when you let your kids become your everything and don't allow yourself the freedom to take time for yourself. For the past four or so years I've been that woman, the one who's %100 Mom. I thank God for bringing a friend into my life who could lead me by her fine example to become more than a Mom. If not, I can only imagine where I'd be now. Probably a lonely, burnt-out Mama without any energy to give to my children, let alone my sweet husband, anymore. I was nearly there when my dear friend started dragging me out of the house. Now, I'm actually attracting compliments for how easy I make it look to have four kids, which is thanks in no small part to the fact that I've re-discovered the woman who is the foundation of the wife and mother with the help and encouragement of my friend.

As little as an hour at night doing something for myself reminds me that under the spit-up, cooking splatter, and possibly funky smell, there is a woman worth fighting for. If I can show my children that I value myself enough to take care of myself, then hopefully they'll follow that example and remember to pursue their passions and interests even in the middle of life's important duties. I don't want my kids to look at me in 10 years and think that I gave up my entire life for them. I want them to look and see that getting married and having my children enriched my life, gave me purpose, but didn't swallow up all my dreams and potential. If I lose myself in my desire to be everything for my children, I'm afraid when they leave to live their own lives, I won't know how to define myself outside of them. I'm afraid I'll be grasping after the little birds as they try to fly, rather than lifting them up and teaching them to soar. The knowledge that I have a future without them makes me want to make the most of this time with them, because it truly is fleeting, even with four children to enjoy. While I nuture my little blessings, I plan to continue to follow the good example of my friend and I will nuture myself too so I can continue to grow into the woman God intends me to become.

Perks of 4 Kids

It's easy to talk about the challenges of having a lot of kids all at once. There's the expense, the diapers, the noise, the odd smells in every corner of our house, the crying, the arguing, the terrible twos coming one after another for 4 years, the business of never having personal space, either on a piece of furniture or in the bathroom, the fact that once one kid cries at night, suddenly everyone is crying (Mommy too), and the list goes on. All of this and more is part of the daily struggle of having a family full to the brim with a baby, a few toddlers, and a preschooler. Intense drama, though momentary, is par for the course in our house.

I'm not sure that I would have it any other way. Sure, I'd love to take my bathroom breaks solo. Let me correct that, I'd love time to actually take regular bathroom breaks well before I'm doing the potty dance, running through a crowd of children to the nearest bathroom. All that being said, there are a lot of perks to having four little kids. Here's a list of my 5 favourite perks:

1. I rarely need a blanket as the body heat from four kids keeps me cozy even on the frostiest of winter mornings. These same little hot water bottles I call children are always ready to warm up my heart with genuine outburts of "I love you, Mommy!" and "You're so pretty, Mommy!", a light in the darkest of times.

2. I don't need to wake up to a loud beeping alarm clock. Most mornings I get to wake up to the sound of our boys playing in their bedroom or our girl singing loudly to the music on her radio. Even the soft whimpers of a hungry baby is music to my ears compared to the angry siren of our alarm.

3. I'm never lacking in helpers. If big sister isn't in the mood to help Mommy pick up the diaper wipes when I'm busy with baby girl, I have my two little boys on hand, begging to get involved. I'm also never without a helper in the kitchen, which makes every attempt to cook an adventure.

4. My house can look like a bomb hit it, and no one would dare to question my housekeeping skills. They know as well as I do that I could have scrubbed every inch of it, and within 5 minutes my own squad of aspiring tasmanian devils could have it back in its normal post-apocalyptic splendor. If, by chance or design, my house looks even halfway clean, I suddenly appear to be some kind of Martha Stewart-styled domestic goddess. Equally, if I manage a successful meal for guests, I am a modern day Julia Child, ignoring of course that I just dumped a pile of ingredients in the crockpot. Lastly, along the same train of thought, my personal hygiene and attire are never questioned. As long as I'm not in a robe, people seem to think I've gone out of my way for them. Fair enough. Pajamas and sweatshirts are my usual uniform when we don't have guests around. So long as the kids are dressed and clean, I've won my victory for the day.

5. This one may be my favourite. I love watching my kids becoming best friends. Sure they fight, just like any other kids, but they also take care of each other. There's nothing in the world better than coming into the livingroom to see the three older kids huddled around baby girl's exersaucer, doing everything they can to make her smile and giggle. If our youngest boy trips, the first one by his side is his big brother, giving him a hug and telling him he's okay. Our oldest girl can often be seen teaching her 3 year old brother, his letters. They do everything together by choice. I feel so blessed to witness their evolutions from roommates to friends, and from friends to best friends.

Having what is rapidly approaching a bus full of kids has its downs, but those are nothing compared to the ups. It's hard to ignore how blessed I am each day. As we finished off our long, busy, exhausting day I was so very ready to see their little heads dissappear behind closed doors. At the same time, I couldn't help but be reminded of my four little blessings when I heard them wishing each other goodnight through their joining wall. No matter how rough the day, or how rough the night ahead, that little ritual is a moment of peace and perspective that centers my day. I wouldn't trade that for all the coffee, peace, silence or sleep in the world.

3 Years and Counting

3 years ago I was anxiously awaiting the birth of our second child. Based on the old wives tale that second babies come early, I had my bag packed and waiting by the door. I was marvelling over my impossibly large stomach and doing my best to take every moment I could to enjoy my baby girl who was about to become a big sister. Whenever I slept I dreamed of who this little person would be. Probably active, I would think, as baby kicked the daylights out of me. For such tiny feet, baby could really move. I was still trying to guess if this baby was a boy or a girl. I had a feeling I knew that part. But what else about this active little person? Big? Small? Quiet? Noisy?

On February 28th, 2009, we found out. About a week and a half overdue, our first son was born. A healthy 8lbs 7oz little man. All chub and rolls and sweetness. He was, as I recall, a very calm baby. His big sister adored him from the moment she layed eyes on him. The little mother in her was born that day too. I remember his delivery really well. Our doctor, who later became our family doctor, came in with a mood of patience and humour, exactly what I needed. By the time I was pushing I was grinning like a fool (oh epidural, you have your up side!) and making jokes between pushes. I had a mirror set up so I could watch him come out. I had said during our older daughter's birth that the last thing I wanted to do was see to the way everything looked when a baby came out, but braved it for our son. I'm so grateful I did. (Mind you, I didn't use the mirror for the next two, I had seen all I needed to see.)  I even touched the top of his head as he started to come out. His birth was empowering, beautiful, and exciting. I had a feeling he was a boy, so when my husband announced him by name after he was born I wasn't surprised, but still deeply overjoyed to see our first son. Named for his Granddad, his Daddy, and St. Francis, he has lived up to the potential of three such wonderful names.

In the years since then our boy has surprised me, scared me, and taught me so much. He is a tender hearted soul and very sensitive, but he's also so bold and particular. He likes things his way, but is also so sweet and considerate with everyone he meets (after he's finished saying 'no'). We've had two more children since his birth and he has become a wonderful big brother. He's very protective of his baby brother and sister, and loves to give them hugs and get them their toys. It's not all roses, mind you. Besides the fact that for a year he has been 2 years old (I know, I know. Of course!), he has also put us through the ringer with some health scares. I remember so clearly the long day when I had to sit with him in the hospital while nurses and doctors fussed over him, an IV sticking out of his tiny arm. He was so little and pale. I wanted so badly to scoop him up and take all his pain away. My husband and I poured out a sea of desperate prayers in those days for answers and healing. We thank God every day that his health improved and he's back to his button-pushing, heart-melting ways.

It's hard to believe that in 3 short years our little man has become a person that I cannot live without. From the moment that the test showed two lines I loved him with my whole heart. I am so grateful to have him in my life every day, even though I'm pretty sure he might be personally responsible for my growing patch of white hair. I can't imagine my life or my family without him. So, as we approach his third birthday, I'll keep saying my daily prayers of thanksgiving for him, and who he is for me and for our family. Happy Birthday, little man. Mommy loves you. Always and forever.

Just Another Wednesday

I can see the snow blowing around in whispy clouds out my back window. Oldest girl is drawing at the table. The boys are packing toys in their little ottoman style chairs. Baby girl is bouncing peacefully in her excersaucer. Light and cheerful music drifts through the air. The coffee is drunk. The dishwasher is full and running. (Relative) quiet. (Acceptable level of) peace. Supper is already made for tonight.

I realise that I could go down and start some more laundry. Or even fold the enormous pile of laundry in my bedroom that's growing faster than baby girl. But not yet. Not in this moment. There could be a million pressing tasks begging for my time in the moment, but I am not letting the voice of duty have a say in this moment. The only duty I have right now is to sit back and savour the miracle that is four children, existing in something that one could approximate as harmony. Everyone is clean, fed and occupied...

Oh wait, I see a brawl starting and baby girl is starting up her hungry cry... It was nice while it lasted.

Inner Strength

As I type this, my boys are playing "sleepover" on the floor of our livingroom, curled up in baby blankets I was trying to fold from the laundry (oh well). They are whispering conspiratorially to each other, probably about trucks. I look at them and I can't help but love my sweet, energetic little boys. I wonder sometimes about what it is I have to bring to the table for these impressionable little men in training.

Just like girls, who are taught by society to aspire to an image of physical beauty that is unattainable, young boys are taught a similar message about strength, appearance, and success that, if it is attainable, is undesirable. Men are bombarded every day with images of the tall, dark and handsome superman type figure. Who cares if he's vapid, abusive or cruel, so long as he's good looking and rich, right? Such a sad image of real manhood. I think this image misses the true inner strength of a real man, the man some women don't even believe exists until he walks into her life. Sadly so many women settle for less not realising there are good men out there. I pray every day that my boys don't get caught up in society's vision of manhood being about size, strength, or paycheck.

So, what makes a good man? What inner quality do I pray my boys will have? Strength. Not physical strength, but an emotional strength that will carry them through rough times. Strength to be brave enough to love with their whole being. Strength to be unafraid to show emotions when they need to but also strength enough to control their emotions so they can hold someone else in times of need. Strength to fight the good fight, but also strength to let go of a fight not worth having. Strength enough to apologise when they're wrong but also to be charitable when they're right. Strength to believe might doesn't equal right and that all beings deserve our respect and care. Strength to be themselves, even if what they love about themselves doesn't make them popular, rich or famous.

Our boys won't have to look far for their example. Their father is a man of this kind of inner strength and true manhood at his core. He dedicates every moment to our family, rarely thinking of his own wants or needs. Like St. Joseph, his favourite saint, he chooses to live a life of abiding and daily faith, acting quietly and with great gratitude for all God has entrusted to him. As a mother all I can do is show them a man like their father is worth loving and let them know that they are worthy of unconditional love just as they are. I pray that they always see how grateful I am that when God knit them in the secret of my womb, He created them in His own image as a gift to our family. I pray they strive to live their lives trying to come closer to that perfection instead of the false image the world would teach them to strive for.