Stay-at-Home Sacrifice: It's NOT all Bunny Rabbits and Roses!

This is what summer is for!

I probably should have been blogging through our massive family transition, if for no reason other than to record it for myself, but alas, I didn't feel much like writing.

I announced it on Facebook, shared it with family and friends, and processed it with anyone who would listen, but I couldn't write about it.

In November, our dear nanny decided she needed to be spending more time with her kiddos. I respect that and am grateful that we had the kind of relationship that allowed her to say so. Since then she has taken time to spend days with Clara and Thomas and given this mama a break once in awhile. We are so grateful for all that she gave and gives to our family.

As a result, Kevin and I had to figure out what to do. With John Ross in school half days and the two littles still at home, finding help and a workable schedule was not easy. After some trial and error, we decided it was time for me to stay home. Working for the church didn't offer the kind of monetary value that allowed us to hire another sitter and give us any additional take home income. Why work to pay the nanny to raise our children? (There is a whole other blog post in there somewhere...an institution that takes the moral high ground on family life, but doesn't provide a living wage or family-friendly benefits like paid family leave.) In addition, here are some things we had to come to terms with in light of our decision:

Always with the tongue!

1. This was God's plan.I tried to explain this to my pastor. I wouldn't have chosen this. If it had been up to me, I would have stayed working the limited hours and limited responsibility job at my parish. I came in, worked, and went home. It was a good break for my head and a good way to appreciate my children. I didn't make much after paying my nanny, but it was worth it. I wouldn't have chosen this drastic course correction, but it was given to us. Everything leading up to this decision was God. We are very much at peace with our decision despite the monumentous adjustments it has required. We are trusting in God's providence.

My first little love.

2. We are grateful.There has been so much peace in our household. I've completed chores on a weekly basis that hadn't been fully complete since John Ross was born. I've gotten into a routine with my two littles which has been invaluable. I've been able to commit hours each week to my physical and mental health with the gift of a YMCA membership from my family. I can slow down and appreciate these fleeting moments with my children and provide more fully for my husband's needs. We are so grateful for this gift.

3. Contrary to popular belief, staying home is not all bunny rabbits and tulips.This is God's plan, we are at peace, and we are grateful, but this is hard. I have several friends who have walked the journey of working outside the home with me for the last 5 years and I so often hear, "It must just be so much easier. I'm so jealous."

Yes, there are times when it is easier. I'm not pushed out the door by a schedule and I'm not rushing home to get dinner on the table during the famous witching hour. My laundry gets done. I don't always have to shower or get dressed in the morning.

But I am always on. There is no physical or mental break. There is no change of mental pace or shift in the demographic I serve. I can't leave it at the office. At work, projects come to an end. At an office, I can close the door. On the phone, the conversation wraps up. At home, the house is never clean, the kids are never ready, there is always another meal and another load of laundry. The closets don't stay clean. There is always needs and you are considered on the job 24/7. When you're working, you get a few hours where ultimately, you're still the top executive of your household, but you've got a director below you managing for awhile.

Again, thankful, grateful, blessed, and honored to have the "luxury", as many call it, of choosing to stay home. That said, I would contest that it isn't much easier than working outside the home.(And for the record, it's hard to blog about something when the only feedback you get on your thoughts is in non-sense all toddler song, baby babble, or Star Wars speak.)

4. We must live with less.We have had to make a lot of mental and financial adjustments. The small amount of money I was bringing in was our "mad money". It allowed us to do extra things like traveling, eating out, and little shopping splurges. We've had to take a closer look at everything we buy. We've done a lot of repurposing, reselling, and rummaging.

Recently, I received a check for some freelance work that I did with a note saying "Buy yourself something nice!" While the sentiment was lovely and thoughtful, there is no extra in our life. We live paycheck to paycheck, making every effort to keep our savings account intact.

If it looks the same on the outside, that is a huge testament to the sheer amount of work we have done to maintain our life despite our financial changes. It is also testament to the generosity of others, our families and those who have generously given their time and "cast offs" to help our family thrive.

3 kids born in Green Bay, it's about time we get to family night!

I say this not because I care what my blog readers and friends think of us. We have made a commitment to a way of life that God called us to and we are at peace.

I write this because I know there are other moms and couples out there that have made similar choices and perhaps can't put them into words. How many of us have worked tirelessly to create a beautiful, peaceful and loving life, but because the grass is always greener, others believe that we're just "lucky"?

No, we are called. We are gifted. We have responded to God's invitation to co-create, sometimes not knowing the sacrifice He is going to ask of us.

And yet, we are so blessed.

 

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The Women Raising My Children

 

I intended to write this post months ago, but how does one tackle a topic so close to one's heart in a blog post? Here I will try.

I’ll admit it. I’ve watched “Sister Wives” on TLC. You know, the one about the 4 wives and 1 husband and their very blended family? Now, before you judge, I’m not proud of my choice. After the first season – there isn’t much on TV for 2am feedings and Netflix is SO convenient – I stopped watching because the whole concept of polygamy and their lifestyle left me feeling uneasy.

That being said, there was definitely a draw to the concept of parenting my children with other women. There is nothing like the perspective and extra hands of other mothers. It made me step back and reflect on my own mothering experience. I realized that in many ways, I share the job of parenting with many other wonderful and blessed women. I share them with you here.

My Mom, Sheila – As I’ve shared in the past, my mother is a foster mom and my brother was adopted into our family. As such, my mother’s “parenting” years have been extended. From my mother my children learn that family doesn’t begin and end, it is constant. From her they learn unconditional love and acceptance as we share the lives of so many unique children. They also learn in a special way the difference between a mother’s love and a grandmother’s love. Only a grandmother would spend time running around collecting items my 4-year-old insists “mom is out of.”

My Mother-in-law, Pat – My mother-in-law is legally blind and has been most of her life. You wouldn’t know it to meet her, however, as she has learned to thrive in her disability. My children have learned perseverance, attentiveness and acceptance. They see in her a wicked independence. They don’t know Grandma any different than she is and they love her all the same. John Ross has learned to sense her needs and respond to them. It brought my heart great joy to see him lead her into church with her cane the other day, carefully maneuvering her through the doorways and around the pews. And just like any other grandma, I find myself coming to grips with the spoils of a visit and the sugar overload aftermath.

My Sister, Alida – When my family is together there are so many children that we just parent whichever one is closest to us. My children see my sister as an extension of myself. She loves them all fiercely and goes out of her way to make sure they know she loves them. She and I share a similar life stage and she keeps me sane. At the same time, she thinks of all the fun “aunt” things to do. I’ll never live up to the bonfire and toasted marshmallows visit.

My Sister, Johanna – My sister Johanna is my respite. When “Ana” is around, you know the kids will be out of my hair. Ana spent much of her teen years helping my mom with foster babies and our brother Matthew, many of whom had special needs. As such, Ana is very creative and inventive when it comes to entertaining the kids and reducing parental stress levels. Strangely enough, she is the best and most loving disciplinarian I’ve ever met. Even without kids, I look to her for ideas and support when it comes to keeping my kids happy and in line. She doesn’t put up with nonsense, but knows the art of distraction best of anyone. She has a love and passion for life that inspires and lights up my kids and for that I am eternally grateful.

My Neighbor, Ann – Ann is a dear friend. I don’t think there are many people who can say they have as good of neighbors as we do. Ann greets our children regularly, waves to them from the car, and invites them to swim in her pool. When she stops over to visit she gives them hugs and asks them questions about their small person lives. With 2 girls of her own, she regularly drops off hand-me-down toys, bikes and equipment. She praises them for their politeness and encourages us as parents. Clara always prays for “Miss Ann” first during our night prayers and we thank God for her as well.

My Nanny, Jeannine – Jeannine gets it. When I needed to hire someone in home to care for my children, I long for someone who could be an extension of me. While we are very different, Jeannine is just that. She loves them like I would. She gives them experiences and joy like I want to. She challenges and holds them accountable. With 4 children of her own, she is a skilled teacher and guide. During a very difficult time in my 3rd pregnancy when I was suffering from debilitating depression, Jeannine made holidays and birthdays something special. Not only is she another mother to my children, but she has become a support for me too – sharing our lives and helping to keep my house (and more importantly my head) in order. It took us a lot of time to find her and we would be lost without her.
My children’s Godmothers – We don’t see these women as often as we’d like, but perhaps that is why they make good Godmothers. They are called in a special way to support us in prayer, both the kids and us as parents. Without their prayers, we would be lost. We count on them to be spiritual warriors and resources for our little ones and we count on their prayers to protect us as we ride the crazy parental rollercoaster.

These women and I don’t share a husband (thank goodness), but these are the women helping me to raise loving, fun, and passionate children. These are the women who help me to be a better mother and live in the example of our Blessed Mother. Clearly, we share a heavenly Father and we are all responsible for the little lives, hearts and souls entrusted to us. So with great humility and hope, I say “thank you.” I hope someday to be as pivotal in the lives of other children as the women in the lives of mine.

Who cares for, teaches, and inspires your children? How have you thanked them?

My Very Own Preschool (M)ad Man!

My son has become a linguist. In fact, he loves bigs words and phrases and learning how to apply them. I love this little part of him because I am fairly well convinced that he is going to be an engineer or architect someday with the way he loves to build and construct.

However, just to keep me humble, I'll share this story.

This weekend, Kevin was teaching John Ross the concept of "making do" alongside one of John Ross' favorite words, "improvise". John Ross had a hole in one of his socks and we were moments from leaving for church. Kevin said, "John Ross, I have a new phrase for you. Make do - it means when things don't go the way we expect, we just make them work until we can fix them."

John Ross thought for a few moments and said, "Dad, I have a new word for you. More-do."

Curious, Kevin asked, "And what does more-do mean John Ross?"

Without a moments pause he replied, "More-do means when something breaks you go buy a new one."

Ladies and gentlemen, this is the message and messenger I am up against...:)

The Man and the Airplane

A few weeks back John Ross had his first dentist appointment. In preparation for his little boy anxiety (couldn't he have just gotten my eyes???), I scheduled the appointment first thing in the morning. I stuffed granola bars down their throats on the way to the office since an 8:00 appointment didn't allow much time for their leisurely breakfasts.

Ultimately, the appointment went well. They looked at his teeth and even cleaned them ("Mama, I don't like that sandy stuff..."). He didn't even gag once! (That trait could be attributed to me, but I'm going to pin it on his daddy). So, I decided to make up their morning nutritional balance with a special treat: McDonalds!

I rail against the fast-food mentality of our culture, but there is just nothing like a McSchmuffin for a special treat. However, anyone who has been to a typical McDonalds in the morning knows the scene: business people, moms and college students in the drive-thru, the senior and shift-work crowd in the dining room.

So, I march in there with my two under 3, order a breakfast platter with milk and a McSchmuffin and procede to herd them into a booth. After a few squabbles over the shared milk, we settled into a nice meal. We often talk about where our food comes from and this morning was no different. They were for the most part well-behaved little friends.

As I began to tidy our trash and older gentleman walked up to the table. He begins with the phrase any mom dreads, "I have something for you if your mama says it's okay."

What??? Admittedly, my mama-radar raised to level orange. "We're in a public place," I think to myself, "he can't really do anything."

The older man goes on to pull a little Packer's airplane toy out of his pocket and hands it to John Ross. It pulls back and rolls foward and at some point had light and sound capabilities that long ago lost their battery power.

He then turns to me and says in a gruff voice, "I'm single and I eat out a lot. There is nothing harder to tolerate than a bunch of little kids screaming and yelling and running around. So, when I am out and about I pick up little toys and things to give to kids I seeing behaving in restaurants."

Then he walks away. I proceded to explain to John Ross that he had gotten the toy because he had been so polite and quiet and that man was able to eat his breakfast pleasantly.

I'm not sure how I felt about the older gentleman's fairly crumudgeon intentions because his intolerance is a bit unfriendly to families, but it was a wonderful enforcement of the public behavior lessons we've been working on. Some things seem to be so much more effective coming from a stranger.

Moreover, I can't tell you how affirmed I was as a parent. What a blessing it was for someone of that generation to compliment the result of my parenting efforts instead of criticize. That man did more than he'll probably ever realize and for that I am grateful God sent him to us.

Questions Before 30: Feminist or No?

So, it is officially a birthday in my late-twenties which means it is an appropriate time for question number two in my 30 Before Thirty series.

Am I a feminist?

This question is a recurring one in my life. As an outspoken little girl, a graduate of an all-women's college, and a female lay minister in the Catholic church I've had more than my fair share of occassions on which to reflect on my role in the world. Today the question was raised because of a statement written in the most recent edition of Sr. Joan Chitister's e-newsletter. It read;

"Only then did the brave ones begin to write about the kind of harems the West had constructed for its own women; the closeted wife of the nuclear family whose role was to maintain the conspicuous consumption that demostrated her husband's success..."

I thought that feminism was about having a choice. So long as my choice is free, keeps me free and does not impinge on the freedom of others, my choice should not be in conflict with the feminist belief, right? Apparently not.

Admittedly, her comment followed a series of true statements about how many things have been revealed in the feminine world and genius in the past 50 years. However, in noting those things she also implied that women today, "...risk wallowing in self-deception" as, "...we fail to admit that nothing much has changed as a result of them."

While I have a deep respect for the men and women in this world who have answered God's call to vowed religious life, I do not appreciate my vocation to married and family life being put in a box by a woman who has chosen neither. Furthermore, should she not be criticizing my generation's choices or situation, she still encroaches on the choices of my mother and grandmothers without whose choices I would not exist.

I care to respectfully differ with her opinion. While I am grateful for the great work that was done on behalf of the freedom of women, I believe that some of that same work is done at the expense of women's freedom. I have never been able to call myself a feminist for two reasons: 1. I believe that the true feminist is one that supports a woman's ability to freely choose her way of life and 2. I want to be uniquely feminine.

Let me expand. I believe that the true feministy is one that supports a woman's ability to freely choose her way of life. Freely, in my belief system, is that which makes one free. Choices that enslave me to grief, physical ill-being, or relational co-dependancy do not free me. The areas of financial stability, materialism, family planning, chemical abuse, medicine, and unhealthy relationships of any type are rife with choices that have the potential to enslave me.

It is of the utmost importance to me that I have all the options laid out for me in these areas - to be well-educated before making a radical decision. Instead, many "feminist" efforts lead women to believe that only one option suits their best interest without offering the freedom of a true, educated choice.

Moreover, if I choose to stay home to serve my husband and family by way of cooking meals, teaching values and maintaining a hospitable home, then so be it. If I choose to work full time and send my children to daycare, so be it. If I choose something in between, so be it. My way of living, so long as the decision is made freely and does not impinge on the freedom of others, is as valid as another woman's choice. No philosophy that claims to free women should imply that my choice enslaves me to a "harem" of any sort, western or otherwise.

Just because we can doesn't mean we should. Take Eve for example. God gave Eve the ability to eat of the forbidden fruit. All she had to do was reach up and grab for it. However, the lesson of that story is one of temptation and turning one's back on God's will. She used her free-will to eat of a fruit that enslaved her, and generations to come, to lives aware of and tempted by sin.

And reason number two I have never been able to call myself a feminist is that I desire to be uniquely feminine. I have no desire to be the equal of a man. Those that have accepted the "...male eye..." as implied in Sr.'s reflection have done so not at the hands of ignorance or oversight, but at the hands of a movement that has promoted an equality that can never exist. I am a woman with unique insights, perspectives, and gifts that are different from those of a man. Physically, chemically, and phsychologically we are different. Were we the same, credit to the great wisdom of our Lord, our species, as designed, would not be able to pro-create.

Moreover, men and women around this world and in this church are co-creators with the Divine. Together, we build God's kingdom on earth. I need not be a man to make my contributions count anymore than I need to be American. I stand grateful and humbled by the many gifts and priviledges that being a white, American woman has afforded me. That being said, I have not come anywhere close to the generosity and selflessness of men and women just like me around the world who are doing more than I am to use their God-given gifts to the best of their ability with much less priviledge than I. I stand in awe of them as they fight, like me, to live their baptism.

Fr. Robert Barron makes a short, but wonderful case for the ultimate role and power of a man or a woman of faith. Ultimately, wouldn't you prefer sainthood?

As a representative of one of the newest adult generations of the Church, I firmly believe that much has changed for me as a woman in my Church. I have a voice that in my experience has only been silenced by a previous generation of women who don't want to hear my experience of the teachings and truth of our faith. I have a role that has yet to be challenged where I can form my family, my friends, and the other women in my community. I serve under a Bishop who appointed a married mother of 2 to the USCCB committee on evangelization and catechesis because he recognize the importance of her presence and perspective in their vision for teaching our next generation. I am grateful to be a woman in this church and grateful for the complementarity of my unique gender.

There are indeed times and ways in which the Church takes caution not to simply bend at the whims of popular culture. Perhaps that is why the Church has existed for 2,000 plus years while most political, economic and fashion statements exist but a generation or two.

My ultimate answer: feminist, no. A feminine image of God's great spirit who believes in the unique complementarity of all God's creations, absolutely.

I am woman, hear me love.

My little man is 3 today. Time for the annual post!

Lover of all things branded...Thomas the Tank Engine, Bob the Builder, Cars, Angry Birds (yes, thanks Daddy), Spiderman, and Curious George.

Boy for all feelings...happy, sad, mad, concerned, loving, angry, anxious (oh, so anxious), excited, and jealous.

The little boy who can make any toy fit the purpose. The little people ambulance becomes the Mac Hauler from Cars and the nightlight (yes, removed from the wall) is Guido from Cars. The photo above is of him "tractor tipping".

This year was the one of the Tag Reader which was easily confused in a 2-year-old brain with a basal thermometer. It was the year of bikes, sandboxes, and helping daddy dig in the dirt. This year marked his first plane ride, his first batch of sugar cookies, and his first video game (Angry Birds).

He talks from waking to sleeping and I swear he uses some of my daily ration of words.

John Ross, may you never stop asking questions. May your love of all things action-packed sustain your imagination and may your sweet sleep keep your heart and mind well-grounded in your dreams.

Happy Birthday sweet boy. Mama loves you.

Pro-life in a Foster Family

I am a foster sister and although I've mentioned it here from time to time, I offered a more thoughtful pro-life perspective on my journey over here. Please enjoy.

My Baby Bear Turns One

My sweet little Clara Ann turned one on Monday. Sadly, the last weeks have been so busy that I am quite delayed on her birthday post. Delayed but not forgotten.

Clara got a double dose of fire in her personality. Compared to my even-tempered little man, Clara has no patience, no tolerance, and a stubborn streak that could get her an oceanside view in Arizona.

She is not the marathon sleeper that her brother was and spent many a night bonding with daddy well into the second half of her first year. Though she resists sleep, she needs it and is so much more pleasant when she wakes up from a good rest.

She only has 4 teeth: the two bottoms ons and her fangs. She really looks like a tiny little vampire.

She talked a lot sooner than John Ross. She has a very raspy, deep little voice which usually cracks people up when they first hear it. While she spent the first many months growling, her first word was "gentle" which comes out sounding like "GEN-toe". It is quite amusing when she actually growls the word. While we were in FL this spring, her auntie bumped her head on the stroller while putting her in and she softly whined "GEN-tooooeee". Her second word was "touchdown" which everyone worked very hard on prior to the Superbowl seeing that she was born in Green Bay.

She is a SUPER-eater! She does not gag on her food or resist anything we give her which makes her a joy compared to her brother at that age. She loves bananas and graham crackers and is learning to use a spoon. Unfortunately, right now that means using her fingers to eat things off the spoon, but every painter starts by fingerpainting, right?

She inherited mommy's chin and thunder-thighs. She hates wearing dresses because she can't power-crawl in them and she doesn't look good in pastels. She is bright and bold and a ball of love. Her best feature is her dusky blue eyes and pink little lips and they are best when her cheeks are rosy and she's giving kisses. I love every padded, pudgy inch of her.

We've called her Scrappy from the time she was in the womb, but she also goes by Beara, Clarie, Clarita, Scappa, and Clara-bear.

She is my snuggler and the best birthday gift she gave her mama was an hour of snuggling in the baby wrapper at Easter Sunday Mass. She lays in my arms and gazes up at me lovingly no matter what her size. Her sweet little wistful smile always leaves me wondering who this beautiful little girl is going to be.

She will take her first steps this week and who knows where those little feet and fiery personality will take her. All I know for certain is that God has BIG plans for my LITTLE bear and I pray that God shows me exactly what maps she needs!

Super Powers? I Don't Think So...

"Mom needs her coffee Sis. It's where she gets her powers."

My 5-year-old brother knows how important my mom's coffee is to her in the morning.

My son also understands and pays reverance to the magic, caffinated elixir that is my morning cup of joe. He knows not to touch it, blow on it, or fuss at me before I've poured it. In our marriage, there is never a fight over who makes the coffee because we just have an understanding that it gets made. There are days when I am near certain that the coffee fairy makes it.

My cup is the start to my day and the splash of heavy cream that I add to it is the small mama luxury that gets my day started off right.

No one need elucidate me on coffee's many flaws and disadvantages (nor the cream I put in it). I gave it up in some degree during each of my pregnancies and have sacrificed it during Lent a time or two. Having worked at a coffee shop to put myself through college (both financially and physically) brewed coffee with cream is my stepdown from the harder stuff like flavored lattes (and the daily donut that is now represented around my mid-section).

Someday I'll swear off of my caffinated crutch in favor of my other dear friend decaffinated tea. Someday, when I have a beautiful house overlooking a lake where I can sit and watch the sunrise while waiting for my grown children to call and give me the latest update on the grandchildren...Someday, when all that is on my plate for the day is cooking and reading.

Until then, this is my place in life. A place where the rich smell of roasted beans in my nose instantly clears away the cobwebs clouding my mama brain.

With One Voice...

We've been having a rough week over here. Politics have not been kind to the hearts of our household this week. It seems that an awareness of our very lives has been sidelined for the sake of an issue.

My heart aches for my hard-working husband who spent years waiting and working for a position in higher education that promised a stability for our family that had eluded him in the private sector. His hard work paid off for one short year until the recent budget crisis has once again placed him smack in the center of cuts, shrinking benefits, and the rumors of layoffs. He's gotten to the point where he seriously believes that perhaps it is him and not the flawed systems.

We've spent a lot of time wondering "why?". Why have the faces of our beautiful children been stripped from this issue? Why have our voices been ignored in favor of faceless "taxpayers" that should, in fact, include us?

We know, fully appreciate and support the need for budget reform. We deal with it on a daily basis in our own household. We are regularly making sacrifices of things that are in concept good, but are beyond our financial ability. We all make sacrifices even though our youngest members don't realize it yet. Shouldn't that be the case in politics? Shouldn't we all share equally in at least a portion of the sacrifice? We'll give what we need to under the circumstances, but don't strip us of our voice and our ability to gain back that which we have sacrificed when the tables turn for the better.

Ultimately, as we've cried and prayed over our situation this week, there is only one thing that is clear. We cannot rely on any force, organization, or leadership on this earth to provide for us. God is the only being in which we can place our trust.

Moreover, everything we have, big or small, is simply a gift entrusted to our care for a short time while on this earth. Even our paychecks, the things with our name on them, do not belong to us. The money in our checks is a gift from God for which we are called to be caretakers, or stewards.

God gives us gifts not because we deserve them, but because we are loved and because we are His children. We are called to receive that which we have been given gratefully, nuture it responsibly, share it justly, and return it abundantly to our Father in Heaven.

While we seek justice in solidarity with others, our voices are not to be one with any human. Seeking dignity for all, our voices are to be one with the angels and saints guided by the wisdom of the Spirit. We are called to trust in something unseen and look upon the darkness of the world with love and hope in something greater.

For all of you facing the darkness this week, be it loneliness, addiction, unemployment, underemployment, fear, infertility, anger, homelessness, heartlessness, incivility, silence or overscheduling, know that as the communion of saints we stand in solidarity with you. We pray that God's light will guide you through the valley and that together we will continue our journey to God's just and glorious Kingdom.

One day we will all find perfection in God.

Until then, I'll find my hope for innocence and perfection in the eyes of my children.

Fall: My Season

I love the fall. There is nothing quite like the feeling of walking out of the house and smelling the decay of leaves and the crisp fall air. I love the slight bite in the wind and the gently warmth I feel when I enter an establishment. I love bundling up and taking the kids for a walk.

For many, fall signifies a time of death and darkness. While I mourn the end of Saturday morning market with the final ritual canning and a savory butternut squash soup, I embrace the peace and life I find in the shortening days of autumn.

There is a slowing of life in the enveloping darkness of the late days of fall. I identify with a mama bear as my instinct to hibernate kicks in. I become more efficient and less concerned with the stress of the world. My priorities naturally shift to a greater focus on my family and for a short period of time each year society supports my priorities with sappy commercials about family holidays and especially patient church-goers.

John Ross was born at the end of November. Nothing more life-giving than that. I can't eat Thanksgiving dinner without remembering those last precious (and impatient) hours that my son was still inside me.

And on the tail of the fall season is Advent. The anticipation of the impending arrival of the Savior is certainly known to this mama. This year however, it is the peace and hush that I hope to embrace.

Yes, my children are 2 and 7 months.

Yes, I am a working mama.

Yes, I hosted Thanksgiving and Christmas is out of town this year.

I figure, if Mary can manage to give birth to Jesus in a cave and invite the shepherds in to view the little man a few hours later, I can find a few moments of peace each night to be quiet and remember God's provision. Perhaps, by Christmas, I will be ready to welcome the Savior into my heart and not just my home.

I've Never Been So Thankful for Lunch!

My son invited me to lunch the other day. This may not seem significant at first glance, but he's 2.

I sat him down for lunch and turned to go to the kitchen to do my usual chores while he ate. As I stepped across the threshold between the two rooms, I heard an insistent “Aye! Aye!” and turned around to see him repeatedly pointing his finger to the table and saying “Seat! Seat!” He was clearly inviting me to join him for our meal. He had classified meal time as family time. He had internalized our pattern and simply made it a part of himself. He didn’t have to think about it, he just acted as the Spirit prompted him.

At this time of year, between family and holidays, it is easy to get caught up in the necessity of doing. We must do the shopping, do the cooking, and do the driving. Then we must do the working to pay for the shopping and the cooking and the driving. Often, in all of our doing, we forget to be present in the moment and give thanks for the gift of ourselves.

The life of a steward begins when you realize that all you have and more importantly, all you are, is a gift. John Ross’ invitation was to more than just lunch. He invited me to simply be that which God has made me. Through my 2-year-old, Jesus called me out of my doing and invited me to sit at His feet as a mother, a wife, and a beautiful daughter of God.

Our Little Souls

I have two children. This is my beautiful daughter. She is only 6 months old and yet I can see in her eyes what a beautiful young woman she will be one day. I can see the joy and radiance of God in her little smile and I can hear God's voice when she laughs from her belly.

As Catholics and Christians we talk about our co-creation with God. After having my children, I know understand that it applies to so much more than birth control, conception, and the mystery that is pregnancy. God gifted Kevin and me with these children and entrusted us as stewards of their lives and their futures. Together, through prayer and faith, we co-create these precious children. We nurture their bodies, their minds, and their little souls.

Wow, what an awesome calling.

It certainly gives me some perspective for those moments when my rambuctious two-year-old is flinging folded towels across the living room and trying to bite everything that makes contact with his lower canines and my daughter is screeching for rice cereal and whining for mama's arms. We're co-creating and this moment is yours LORD!