Babies Don’t Keep

September 5, 2011 By 4 Comments

Part of the Mary Moment Monday series

It was a night that was longer and harder than any I’d had in quite a while, one where I started longing for sunrise at around 3 and dozed in 20 minute intervals. I held my hot baby’s body close to mine and made soft soothing noises, trying to keep the din down so everyone else, especially my overworked husband, could sleep.

When my husband walked by the couch on his way to get ready in the morning, I happened to glance outside my kitchen window, and across the expanse of two rooms, I saw the streaks of pink and the lightening of the sky to a gray-blue.

The day rolled in with a bang of colors, an explosion of cool air and beauty that I couldn’t help but notice. I could barely keep my eyes open and standing up was a chore, but here, visible through my kitchen window, was proof that life could go on and go on with a reason to smile.

With each successive baby, the reality of the long nights and short years of this phase of my motherhood touches me closer to my heart. It seems only a moment ago that I was holding my first baby, wondering what, exactly, I was going to do with her. Now I’m on my third and that first baby is boarding the bus every morning to go to first grade.

I’ve been hearing the phrase “Babies don’t keep!” from more mature moms in my life for many years now, but I’ve finally stopped retorting, “Good thing, too! I can’t take much more!” Maybe I’m finally old enough (and worn down enough?) to appreciate the moments of rocking the current baby’s small body and the downy softness of his hair.

Babies don’t keep, it’s true. They grow taller and begin running off to adventures and scrapes and new friends. They grow smarter and begin reading to themselves. They grow older and acquire their own style and their own taste in everything from music to books to shows.

I can’t help but look to Mary as my children get closer to eye-level in more ways than just height. She surely understands the excitement I feel to finally be able to communicate and be understood by my offspring. She must also, though, see the regrets I feel as I blunder through their growing up. Mary probably never lost her temper or yelled at Jesus, but I think she surely felt the frustrations I feel.

Those babies don’t keep, but neither do the toddlers, or the preschoolers, or the grade schoolers. When they’re teenagers, it will be just as fleeting a time as it is now, though for a whole different reason. Then, when they fly away, I’ll find myself busier than ever with the next level of my vocation.

What can I do to treasure the moments with these people in my life, whether they’re my children or my nieces, whether they’re babies or young adults? How can I step back and let the Holy Spirit speak through my actions and my love for them?

This “Finding Faith in Everyday Life” column originally appeared in The Catholic Times.

Filed Under: Inspired by the Virgin Mary, Mary Moment Mondays, Motherhood, writing Tagged With: , , , , , ,

Dog Tired (and Tired Dogs)

July 18, 2011 By 2 Comments

A Mary Moment Monday post

I never appreciated sleep as much as I do now that I have kids. I can feel, inside, how I’ve been stretched, pulled, reshaped by this vocation of motherhood.

I’m not sure I appreciate it on Mondays when I start out feeling as tired as I am today.

Dog tired, that’s me. And I have tired dogs to boot.

This will pass. Someday, hopefully, I’ll wonder what to do with all the time I have to sleep and all the sleep I have. Then I’ll be just like those women who tell me to enjoy ‘em while they’re little.

I believe those women. The years fly by, and it’s both a blessing and a curse. One of my friends regularly reminds me that her son–who’s in his 20s–was once the baby with two older sisters. Something in the way she says it makes me realize that the growing we do as mothers doesn’t stop.

Motherhood is a lot of work, and it’s work that doesn’t stop. If you’re lucky, there’s no getting rid of the kids when they’re 18 and technically eligible to get out of the house and live on their own. The worries continue and the work of mothering, though different in many ways, also keeps going.

Today, when I’m debating whether to work or to nap, whether to cuddle or hide with a blankie, whether to take the easy way or muddle through the hard way, I’m going to try to remember to turn to Mama Mary, who was surely dog tired with tired dogs a time or two.

Life was a different back then, more physical and full of real sweat. Did that make it even harder to get up with a fussy baby or a screaming three-year-old?

As I hug my coffee to me and try to not let my to-do list become more important than it is, I’m going to ask Mama Mary to hold my hand. Let’s walk together toward her Son and do the work He has in mind for our day.

image credit: D. Sharron Pruitt

Filed Under: Inspired by the Virgin Mary, Mary Moment Mondays, Motherhood Tagged With: , , ,

Fighting Summer Boredom

July 14, 2011 By Leave a Comment

A guest post by Kim Beeghley

In the later part of May, I said to myself, “OH NO! Three weeks until school is out. WHAT am I going to do?”  During this time, three of my four children (ages 13, 10, 8 and 6) were still in school and my six-year-old, who just graduated from kindergarten, was constantly asking me, “When are we going to pick up the kids at school so we can play?”

I started to ask myself, “How am I going to survive the summer?  Are there any camps or events for them?”

I decided I needed to take action.  I needed to find things for the kids to do to fill up the summer calendar and to keep them from killing each other out of boredom.

First, I needed a plan.  Living in central Pennsylvania, I was aware of some things for kids to do in the summer including free bowling, library reading programs, vacation bible school, cheap movies, and (of course) swimming.  I registered the kids for free rounds of bowling (which are AWESOME for those rainy days) and picked out a few movies that we could go see at $2 per person (popcorn before lunch?).

As if my head wasn’t swimming enough, I registered the kids for bible school and the three boys for Cub Scout Camp.  Then my mother called and suggested that each of the kids spend a week with them.  Where am I supposed to fit that into our schedule?  These will be special moments for the kids to spend time with their grandparents and form great memories, though.

At the end of June, the kids (and my husband) were presenting at an international educational technology conference in Philadelphia.  We were there for six days, and it was a terrific opportunity for the kids to give presentations to classroom teachers from around the world.

While these items filled up some of the calendar, I was looking for ways for my kids to keep learning over the summer.   I sent an email out to all my homeschooling friends to see if they had any suggestions for me.

Based on some terrific suggestions, I ordered the summer bridge math (2-3 pages a day) and the Wordly Wise (2 lesson a week) for them to complete.  I also ordered Prima Latina to help build those Latin skills.  Now my summer schedule is finally starting to come together.

Another advantage of living in central Pennsylvania is that we are “centrally” located to many different places.  We can take day trips to places like Gettysburg, Baltimore, Washington DC, Philadelphia, or New York City.  We just pack a lunch and snakes so it can be a cheap trip with only one meal to buy.

With a summer calendar full of fun, we can keep the “I’m bored” comments to a minimum, reduce the amount of fighting between the kids, learn some new things, and most of all have fun!

What are YOUR ideas for fighting summer boredom? What have you been doing with your family this summer?

–

Kim Beeghley and I met at last year’s CNMC and we’ve stayed in touch through Facebook in the year since then. She still hasn’t started the blog she’s been thinking about, but I have hope. She keeps busy with her family in their home in central Pennsylvania.


image from CatholicMom.com

Filed Under: guest post, Motherhood Tagged With: , , , ,

A Mother’s Hope

May 3, 2011 By Leave a Comment

It sounds so strange to my ears to say that I have “a mother’s hope.”

It would have made me cringe even a few years ago to use a phrase with that ring to it. But now I have a daughter asleep in the other room, and the phrase “a mother’s hope” stirs something deep within me, making me feel a rise of bile and tears. Bile, because I see how the world is. Tears, because I now have that very thing I have sought, without knowing it – hope.

I like to think that I’m an educated person. After all, I spent years earning college degrees. “Book learning,” you might scoff, “is nothing to experience.” I’ve had a few jobs, been a few places, and I still haven’t given up on a couple of deep-seated aspirations for myself and my life.

In short, I was in no way prepared for motherhood.

I was not ready for the little person who took over my life and who looks so much like the person I admire more than anyone else. I was not ready for her small, perfect hands, and her tiny, vulnerable head. I was not ready for the pleasure of middle-of-the-night feedings and the complete feeling my arms would have every time she was in them. I had no idea that a sincere smile would change my outlook forever, or that any little excuse was reason enough to take her back into my arms.

Nothing had prepared me for life beyond myself.

Motherhood is scary. There’s this great opportunity to shape someone, to impact their views and learning, to do everything right. Then there’s the risk: ruin their life in some inexplicable way, unconsciously make them a menace or a danger, pass along some uncontrollable factor that ruins your grandchildren’s lives. I should have considered all these things before I met the man who made me think motherhood was attainable. In fact, I did.

None of the risks matter anymore. (It’s too late anyway!) Nah, I don’t think there’s a maternal instinct any more than I think there’s a man on the moon. But I do think that there is something that has clicked in me. There is some wellspring of confidence that makes me know that my first interest is protecting my child. It is this same something that probably made the phrase “a mother’s hope” relevant to me, in all of my wanting-to-be-nonconforming-and-ending-up-just-like-everyone-else glory.

I find that I have so many hopes for my daughter, but they all boil down to one thing, the hope that she is safe to adulthood and that we provide the very best for her. Sounds a little “small,” even as I write it.

Modified from a post originally published August 19, 2006, when my only child was 19 months old.

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Filed Under: Motherhood Tagged With: , ,

Life in More than 140 Characters

March 26, 2011 By 9 Comments

A guest post by Christine Johnson, who’s the woman behind Domestic Vocation and can also be found on Twitter (though not during Lent!).

I discovered something almost three years ago: Facebook is not just for high school and college kids. It’s a really neat tool to keep in touch with your family and friends of old.  It’s a convenient way to share pictures of your family – whether growing in numbers or simply in size – with far-flung cousins stationed with the Marines in Texas, Florida, Afghanistan, with aunts and uncles living thousands of miles away, with dear friends you’ve known more than 1/3 of your life but who live too far to have coffee with.

I also learned that there are games! And, oh, how those games suck your time.  If you have even a smidgen of competitiveness combined with a touch of addictive nature, you can discover that your “quick couple of games” at Bejeweled Blitz have turned into an hour.  Seriously!  I mean, how can I let Rachel continually beat me at this game?  I can beat her this time.  Just one more …

So last year, I gave up Facebook for Lent. I had also been playing some other stupid game that was fun for a while but had become way too addictive.  When I returned after Easter, I had no idea how to play because they’d updated and changed it.  And so I stopped.

Time was gained back!  I did slip back into Bejeweled occasionally.  Okay, a bunch by the time Lent rolled around again this year.

Which is part of why I did the same thing as last Lent: I gave up Facebook.  My family can reach me still via email, and I changed my avatar to let people know I would be off Facebook until Easter.  (The only exception is that my blogs auto-post to Facebook, but I do nothing to make that happen, nor do I go and check if it’s actually posted.)

But I discovered something else in the last year: Twitter. I’d tried it before, but was quite limited in my uses.  I didn’t “get” it.  Until I tried again, being a little more open and following some bloggers and writers I like a lot.  (Hello, Sarah!)  I figured out that Twitter can be a very interesting way to find news, to learn about things happening as they happen, to find interesting articles on topics I really like.  I even learned how to use a hashtag – both seriously (#Catholic #prolife #40DaysForLife) and jokingly (#whyaremykidssobig #whendidIgetsoold #doespeerybinglemissmeontwitteroramijustbeingegotistical).  It was FUN!

(ahem)

A bit too much fun at times.

I suddenly realized that I was checking it WAY too often, wondering if I had re-tweets (which is, for the uninitiated, when someone likes what you say enough to pass it on – it’s basically an electronic “ditto!” that reposts your comments).  I wondered if I had more followers, if I had less followers, if I could say something witty that someone famous would respond to … for the introvert that I am, it was a way to socialize.

Now, I have actual and real socialization on Twitter.  I have made some friends there who I’d love to meet in person.  People I pray for, who (I hope) pray for me.  But I also know that there is some very fake socialization that I’d love to pass off as real, but isn’t.  Things that amount to shouting into a crowd of people who do not know me at all, thinking that someone might be paying attention to me.

And being addicted to that is not a good thing.  (Really, what addiction is good, save the addiction to God I ought to have but fail to nurture enough?)

And so, due to my own slightly addictive nature, I pulled the plug on Twitter as well as Facebook.  Again, my blog is auto-posting on Twitter, but I do nothing to make it happen.  I don’t go to check the news.  I did leave the Twitter extension at the top of my Safari browser, but mostly I don’t even see it.  I’m definitely not clicking on it!

I do sort of miss the back-and-forth that I occasionally shared with friends, but overall, I’m trying to use the time I was spending on these social networks to socialize with Someone more important.  I’m trying to read the Bible each morning, or at least the Mass readings for the day, and to focus more on my vocation and less on myself.  (My vocation requires me to focus on others first.)

I’m basically trying to live in the real world a bit more. Which, left to my own devices, I was tending not to do as much as I ought to.

One of the other things I’ve noticed is that constantly writing things in 140 characters can change the way my mind works.  There are some benefits: I have to express myself more succinctly, I learn to be more direct about what I’m saying.

But there are pitfalls, too.  I tended to feel more frenetic, less calm.  The speed at which things can move on Twitter and Facebook can really make you jumpy.  It’s as though I’m expecting everything to be in short soundbites.  I was having troubles really reading anything deep for long periods of time; for someone who loves reading as much as I do, that is a serious problem.

I wanted to break that a bit.  I wanted to force calm back into my life and sooth my mind so it’s able to contemplate, to be at peace, to meditate on the great mysteries of this life.

One thing I’ve discovered is that I’m a bit more able to concentrate lately, and to write longer things. I’m doing so with more clarity and with (I hope) less rambling.  But I think this break from the short, punctuated writing that takes place on Facebook and Twitter is helping me think more clearly.

The biggest benefactors of this break are my children, who get my undivided attention far more than when I’m busy joking with someone on Twitter.  And I’m a better mother for that.

So that’s why I gave it up.  It’s why, despite others who have said they couldn’t give up Facebook for Lent because it’s their biggest connection with others, I think it’s a good thing for me.

For some people, logging into Facebook and Twitter is a fifteen-minute activity.  It’s not usually that for me, or at least it eventually grows to be much more.  When I go back to it, I’ll try to limit my time better, but if it gets too hectic – if I’m finding that it’s too “important” to me, I’ll break from it again.

And maybe I don’t need Lent for that, either.

What are your thoughts?

Do you use Lent as a way to eliminate bad habits or to lessen activities that seem to take over your life?  Do you take breaks from those things at other times of year?

Filed Under: guest post, Motherhood Tagged With: , , , , , , ,

Getting Past Me

February 28, 2011 By 8 Comments

One of the Mary Moment Monday posts

A while back, Barb wrote a post about the gift of availability, which put words to many things that have been on my heart in the past few months. I did what I do when something resonates with me: I sent it to a certain friend.

Then, the other day, when I read Elizabeth Duffy’s brilliant piece “Released By Motherhood” at Faith & Family Live, I shared that link too.

The friend I sent it to replied, and her reply merits sharing with you.

Been feeling (or struggling with) similar feelings. Relieved that other(s) feel it too!

Would like to have my job well defined. Have either baby days behind me and full devotion to shaping older children (involvement at school, etc.) or know I have baby days ahead and keep myself in that mode.

And I’m 40 with no clear career path if I’m suddenly needed to earn money. My family is my primary job, yes, but I feel strongly that it should not be my only [job]. However, I don’t write or anything that I could do during my available time.

So struggling with this mini midlife crisis, I’ve decided to be a prayer warrior with service availabilty (I imagine myself as a part time nun). This is my gift to the world. Give up fear of the unknown, embrace God’s will and pray for everyone and anyone when ever I can. Offer services when I’m available.

This decision has certainly lifted my self imposed weight on my shoulders to produce something in my days and ease my guilt when I’m rundown as “just” a mom. And I’ll just have to trust God to help with the money part if needed.

This friend and I have been particularly struck by my sister-in-law’s new status as a single mom. A year ago, her husband died unexpectedly. Her income is…gone. She wasn’t the primary wage earner; in fact, her income (at her part-time job) offset the cost of their children’s Catholic education.

My brother-in-law didn’t have a will. He was only 38, after all. This came as a complete shock, a total surprise, and, really, it has me (and this good friend, too) totally tempted to manage by exception.

Back when I was involved in office life, and especially when I was the one in charge, I was dead set against managing by exception. “Rules and policies should not be made to deal with what-ifs and could-bes,” I’d tell myself and anyone who suggested a new rule or policy.

My husband suddenly dying is the exception, not the rule. It is unlikely, and if I live my life in fear of it happening, then I’m thumbing my nose at God’s goodness. I can’t help but think of yesterday’s Gospel reading, from Matthew 6:24-34. This, especially:

“Do not worry about tomorrow; tomorrow will take care of itself.
Sufficient for a day is its own evil.”

This Gospel is a little love note from God, a reminder that He loves me far more than I can imagine and that He will take care of me, no matter what happens.

It’s also a reminder that I have to get past myself: past my own fears, past my conviction that what I think is what’s most important. There’s a lot of humility required in embracing life and trusting God.

When I ask myself, How would Mary deal with this difficulty?, the word Yes comes to mind. Mary is such a role model for me: she helps me to shoot for the more perfect path to holiness, as opposed to the way of least resistance that I have a tendency to choose on my own.

Sometimes, I have to say Yes to things that are difficult and hard.

Sometimes, I don’t have a choice.

But I have a choice far more than I don’t. I can choose, as my friend did, to offer my prayer time to others. I can say Yes and minister to others with little acts of kindness and prayer, and, most importantly, give my attention to those people in my house who are my primary vocation.

On a related note, written in the past:

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Filed Under: Inspired by the Virgin Mary, Mary Moment Mondays, Motherhood Tagged With: , , , ,

Temporarily Small

February 21, 2011 By 3 Comments

A Mary Moment Monday post

Originally published June 9, 2006, but a reminder I need with every daily battle with my current three-year-old.

Something jarred me today, and I realized that although I hear the word “no” a lot (and sometimes in very strange contexts, proving she doesn’t understand it quite yet), and even though I feel my patience level tested anew each day, and even though I use the phrase “going to the potty” and first-person plural regardless of whether I’m conversing with an 18-month-old or an 18-year-old – despite all of this, she’s growing fast.

Yesterday, she was born. Today, she’s toddling and pondering how to run. Tomorrow, she’ll leap away from me, and before I can blink again, she’ll be starting milestones I’m not mentally ready for, like the various graduations and first days and all of the things that involve the Big World. My test, I’m always reminded, is ongoing.

And my child is only temporarily small.

I can’t help but think of the role model I look to, Mary. Was Jesus really a toddler? OK, yes, I know the answer; I know the answer I’m supposed to know. But I haven’t really thought about the reality of potty training Christ. I hadn’t considered a bundle of jumbles and smiles and stubbornness. Even if he was a perfect child, he had to be a boy to some extent, which involves some measure of mud under fingernails and exploration in the Great Out There.

I feel, on the one hand, like I have a lot in common with Mary. On the other hand, what kind of person gets asked to be the mother of God? I’m guessing, dear friends, that it’s someone who’s a lot different than me!

What faith, to say yes to a proposition which no human mind could really have understood? What patience, to look for your son, who’s the Savior of the world, the long-awaited Messiah, for three days and then find him back where you started? What courage, to be the first disciple? What strength, to stand at the foot of the cross? What hope, to stand in front of the empty tomb?

As a fellow mother, I look at Mary and think, “Ah, there’s my hero, someone to look up to, someone who went through what I’m going through and did it with flying colors.”

Sometimes, if I’m not careful, that voice in my head gets the megaphone and trumpets out, “You can’t be like that, you’re not the mother of God.”

Sometimes, I forget that this Toddler-tron phase is temporary, just like the sleepless nights and the nursing and the labor pains. All of the difficulties passed, and so did the little joys that always get stomped under the complaining.

I’m trying to remember that my child is only temporarily small.

Someday, there will not be a small head on my shoulder, representative of a weight I can contain within my two arms and keep safe by sheer willpower. Someday–and the day is coming so soon!–I will have to let her go into the Big World, and I will have to pray harder than I ever have.

If she was small longer, I might lose every shred of sanity. But if she grew faster, I might not have time to savor any of the joy.

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