A Heart Unguarded

I have a long history with heartaches.  From the moment I enetered grade school, I wore my heart on my sleeve.  I often opened myself up to people who would prove to be less than ideal friends. My parents endured many days and nights of tears... betrayals and meanness... it was always the same story.

I don't think I have changed that much.  I still wear my heart on my sleeve.  I go out of my way to befriend, and be friendly.  I've learned that not all will appreciate my friendship, that there will be moments of heartbreak, of disappointment.  I also know that I am broken, a fallen creature.  I will make mistakes, will unknowingly offend, will be a less than perfect companion.  And that makes me grateful for the friends that I do have, that have stuck it out with me, warts and all.

I've found, when embarking upon a new adventure, or a new friendship, I have a choice.  Do I guard my heart?  Do I lower my eyes and offer little... or do I meet the newcomer face-to-face and plunge right into the dialogue?  Do I put myself out there, my arms and heart open?

In my family, do I spend time with my aging grandparents... do I make the effort to conect and re-connect?  Do I spare myself the ache of separation, of sorrow at their passing and remain aloof?

Similarly, when that extra pink line appears... how do I react?  In fear and trepidation?  Or with joyous welcome, no matter what the cost?

So it goes for friendships.  Do I spare myself the pain of being misunderstood, misjudged and ignored... and simply fade into the background?  But then. Then I will miss out on the joy of being known, of being treasured and loved.  I will miss out on the opportunities to be generous and giving, to grow in ways unimaginable.

Besides, I've seen what happens when I put myself out there.  I've experienced some pretty amazing things.  I've met some awesome people, and heard some unbelievable stories.  And it has all become a part of me.  I'd like to think I've left a bit of myself behind, something for the other person to take with them, something inspiring, something good. 

Oh how I hope I've left them something good.

Beth These Days

Beth (Elizabeth) is our Little Boo. And what a Little Boo she is.

She is the source of most of the hilarity around here, both good and bad.  She will mercilessly tease all of her siblings... yes, even the 13 year old, and then turn around and do something totally precious like, make Little Love some lunch, or change the baby's diaper.  She is so fickle that way.

Not to mention the gems that issue forth from her mouth.  When she learned of my Grandma's passing, she turned to mom and asked; "Is she the lady who lost her marbles?"
My Grandmother had alzheimers.
Nothing like a little humor to lighten the moment. 

:P

At the tender age of 8, Beth really is an old soul.  She has decided, all on her own, to keep her room neat.  So, when visiting my parents, she took it upon herself to clean the kids' room every morning.  She picked up the clothes and toys and made all the beds.  My mother was thrilled that at least one grandchild had inherited her gene of cleanliness and order!

Beth also has undertaken the task of acquiring a love of reading.  She sees her siblings with a book going every day.  She is determined to do the same.  And so there is a stack by her bedside, from which she reads incessantly, and keeps me apprised of her accomplishments. 

My Bethie Boo is becoming quite the soccer player.  She has been asked to play select in the spring. My little spitfire, the captain of her team, is now in the big leagues.  Well, sort of.  When bringing her to her first practice, she asked me if this was a "Spanish" team.  Indeed, she is the only caucasian on the team!  This only bothers her, she told me, when the girls speak Spanish to each other.  So, she says, she just needs to learn Spanish.  Simple, huh?

This girl has taught me so much about the overwhelming ferocity of love and determination.  She works with such concentration and will.  Her spirit is alive and infectious.  I am so happy to report that despite my lack of parenting skills, she thrives.  And how she thrives!

What a privilege it is to be her mom.

And how I look forward to witnessing all God has in store for this little girl.

:)

A Must Read...

You Cannot Steal My Joy.


Happy Advent, my friends!


:)

A Blessedly Ordinary Birth Story

Looking out of my two eyes, I saw my feet, for, perhaps, the first time in awhile.  I felt the weight that they had to bear, the unyielding gravitational pull.  And I felt my knees weaken at this pressure.  For the first time in my life, my earthly body seemed nothing less than a burden.  A burden to be borne and endured, not adorned and arrayed.  And I could truly whisper to myself that the promise of the Kingdom to come is surely a blessing and a welcome comfort.

~Nutmeg, 2004

I started blogging when Little Love was 8 months old.  The above was written by me in my (handwritten!) journal after a particularly difficult c-section recovery with her.  I had gained a lot of weight that pregnancy, and the after-effects of the pain medication, coupled with an extremely colicky baby was taking it's toll.  Throw in my stair-stepped children (ages 2,4,5 and 7) and I was seriously pushing the limit of my sanity.  Other moms are more resilient, I'm sure.  But #5 drove me to my knees.  Don't get me wrong, I was so thrilled to have my Little Love.  A traumatic miscarriage one month before conceiving her had cured me of any selfish doubts.  But it was by far the most difficult recovery I've ever had.


Naturally, I've been gun shy ever since.  After Little Dude's existence was made known to us, I was thrilled, but cautious.  Ok, who am I kidding... I was scared sh*tless.   I did not want to go through the fear and anxiety I experienced during the surgery... did not want the horrific recovery... did not want the colicky baby with acid reflux.  I wasn't sure that all of my longing for another little one would turn out to be the best thing for us.

*smile*

The morning of Little Dude's scheduled birth, I explained to DH my need for some Mama time.  I needed to shower, to do my hair, to accomplish some detailed grooming... because I knew it would be at least a week before I would be strong enough to give any attention to detail in regards to personal hygiene.  Sorry, (tmi?) but surgery recovery is no picnic.  And I knew it.

Surprisingly, I was calm.  Begging for prayers from all corners of the internet and real world friends, I was amazed at the effects. I had a game plan, and was following it to the letter.  Baby steps, I decided.  Take one thing at a time.  First step, pack.  Next step, get to the hospital.  And so on from there. At each turn, I would take a deep breath and submit.  Hospital gown?  check.  I.V. line?  check.  Scary consult with the Anesthetist? You betcha. Throughout all of this, my mind focused on something I had read that morning.  A poor woman had revealed on the Faith and Family blog that her husband was caught in the throes of a porn addiction.  My heart ached for her, and I was moved to promise her that I would offer up my sufferings that day for her. Oh, to think that maybe my meager sufferings could aid in his release from that bondage!  My resolve was hardened.

The peace was unbelievable.

There were moments of pain and panic, I will not lie.  I have a slight scoliosis in the base of my spine, and the positioning of the epidural was tricky... and painful.  Having the anesthesiologist ask you which nerves were spazzing out as he pushed the needle one way or the other?  Yeah.  Not pleasant.  Lying down on your side to let the medicine have easier access to that one side that wasn't quite numbing properly? Wondering if they'd have to redo it?  And what about the surgery?  Eeeek.  Yes, there were moments of panic.  DH was not allowed in to the O.R. at that point either.  I had forgotten about that.  He would not be allowed in until I was numbed and the sheet was positioned.  And that added to my anxiety.  To be suffering and in pain and confusion without my stronghold beside me.  That was probably the hardest part. But I remembered my resolve.  I was determined to hang on to my peace.  And the prayers carried me through.

And as the medicine took effect, DH was ushered in.  He took my hand and smiled.

My arms were outstretched and the words of Our Lord took root in me. This is my body... given up for you.  I was fully living this truth at the time that the first incision was recorded.

During the surgery, with all of it's strange sounds and smells, I had my eyes closed.  My doctor asked how I was doing, and the nurse anesthetist said I was smiling.  Strange, huh.  I was thinking about Little Dude, and how we would meet him soon.  And I couldn't wait.

The moment I heard Little Dude... the tears sprang up, unexpectedly.  And as I laughed them away, I remembered that I always cry when I first hear those wails.  They wrapped him up and laid him on my outstretched arm, close enough so I could kiss his face.  My arms still immobile, DH held him in place for me. As my doctors finished their work, I lost all sense of time just gazing at his face.  And during recovery, the protocol at the hospital is for complete skin on skin time.  Having him nurse and snuggling him close made the time go by quickly.  I can barely remember my doctor checking in on me before he headed home.  Something about how it all went well.... and then he was gone.


My doctor.   A few words about him.  He is Catholic, Pro-life and NFP-only.  Knowing that the man who was performing the surgery was most likely in the state of grace gave me a confidence that I hadn't thought of before.  I could almost picture the guardian angels guiding his hands.  He is meticulous.  So much so that he refuses to deliver his own children... afraid that his emotions would cause him to lose focus.  He plays the role of dad then... but for us, he was all business.  And I just love him for that.

After I was home a few days, and reflecting on how God's grace and many prayers carried me through each hurdle of recovery.... (first time up, first shower, removal of bandages, then removal of staples, etc) It dawned on me that it's really all about trust.  Trust in God.  Trust in your caregivers.  Being rolled from the operating table to the recovery bed and then onto my hospital bed.... ever had that done?  They tip you on your side, then lift you by the sheets and plop you on the other bed.  I was completely numb, staring at the floor, as they tipped me one way, and then another.  Totally helpless.  But I had to trust.  If I freaked out just a little, tried to steady myself with my arms... then the IV bag would have gone flying, and in their surprise, the nurses may have lost their grip on me.  And those nurses?  They are good. Protecting my dignity, soothing my fears, all while letting you know that this is routine.  It's done all the time.  And while you are uniquely you... you are also just part of their normal day.  And there is something really comforting in knowing that.

How much more God loves us.  He paralyzes us with his love.  Tips us one way, then another.  Only asking us to trust, not to freak out.

Because his grip on us is secure.

And there is something even more comforting about that.

Leaving Good Behind

Yesterday was not what you'd call a stellar day in the Nut House.

By the time dinner was over, I was nursing a Smirnoff and ignoring the chaos surrounding me.  The little girls were fighting, chasing each other all over the downstairs, Sports Fan was moaning in agony, sure that we'd have to amputate his foot because he had stepped on a pencil earlier in the day, and Action Man was punctuating the air with complaints about the state of his uncompleted schoolwork.

Glancing at the clock and noticing the late hour, I rallied the troops.  Little Dear and Little Boo did the dishes, then cleaned up the living areas.  The boys tidied (most of) the homeschool room, and then they were all sent upstairs, leaving a semblance of peace and order.... some good behind.

I continued my pity-fest on the couch with my feet up.  Only one week left to go until Little Dude is born, but I have about a billion things to do.  And the weight of that knowledge plus the burden of other thoughts weighed on me.  Throw in some whacked out hormones, and you've got yourself one outrageously emotional Mama.

When despair starts to creep in, my instincts are to circle the wagons.  I can only deal with a shrunken universe.  My arms clench at my sides, and I bring the little ones in close.  I surround myself with kindness and mercy and venture no farther than what I deem comfortable.  This is not just a physical limitation, but a spiritual and emotional one as well.  Little Love and I read story after story today.  We sat quietly for so long, her head resting on my belly, that she suddenly popped up, looked at me and sighed.. what a loonnnggg snug that was, Mama!  And off she went to play.

Making my way to my doctor's appointment today, my feet dragged, knowing that this would be the last time I see this building before Little Dude was born.  My next appointment would be postpartum, and while I couldn't wait to be holding the little guy, the state of my physical being was not something I was looking forward to.

There are many "lasts" these days... My thoughts always begin with "This time next week..." because, indeed, this time next week, I will be in the hospital, and Little Dude will be born.  He and I will have come through the surgery with flying colors (God-willing) and I will be holding him in my arms. And then the uphill climb of recovery will begin.  And for that, I simply cannot wait.  I am not a patient patient.  But I am eager to begin ~possibly my last~ babymoon. It is always a time of simple joy and peace.  To have baby at home, and to experience the neediness of tending to one so dependent and helpless.  To be fulfilling just the basic needs, and to smile at the smallest of creation.

So, my dear friends, the blog will most likely be very quiet until the big announcement next Thursday.  I need to leave good behind... to prepare our home and lives for this most joyous event.  To ensure.. as best as I can... that those who will be helping out on the home front (thanks, Mom and Dad!) have a smooth transition, and that our veteran members of the Nut House will not be wading in chaos, but can truly enjoy this exciting time.

Please keep us in your prayers.  I know that all will be well.  And I truly cannot wait to introduce the newest Nut House member to all of you!


:)

Ordinary Heroes

I am really liking Little Boo's soccer team.  After two full seasons, I am finally getting to know and feel comfortable with the parents and family situations that encompass this team.  As usual, there are lessons learned at every turn, and I regularly walk away with a renewed sense of gratitude and awe at how God provides and how I feel particularly blessed.


I have a good rapport with Little Boo's coach.  You may remember, in the beginning, how we were a bit concerned about his ...  erm, zealous coaching style.  Having gone through two seasons, though, I have now developed a lot of respect for his level of commitment.  He puts a lot of time and energy into coaching the girls, and all he is asking is that we get them to practice and games on time.  Not really that unreasonable.  And since DH has coached quite a few seasons himself, I can appreciate the frustration of trying to coach a team that is consistently late.  Hard to put in a good one hour practice, when half the team shows up 15 min late.


Furthermore, I think he respects a mom who knows and loves the game... and occasionally still plays.  Even though he teases me for being completely unable to keep my mouth shut during the game,  he also is glad to have Little Boo out there.  Little Boo knows it, and plays her heart out for the team.

But this is all just background.  Social butterfly that I am, the chats I had before and during yesterday's game is the reason for this post.

At the end of the spring season, as I was emerging from my first trimester nausea-haze, I found out that Coach Matt was in the process of getting a divorce.  He and his (soon-to-be) ex-wife seemed on friendly enough terms, and so I had had no idea.  In chatting with some of the moms at that tournament, I found out that the fall season had been impossibly tough for everyone.  The team was awful, and Coach was not mentally there.  They stuck with him, though, and were so grateful for the turn-around that the spring season had brought.  I was impressed.

Coach has a sister... 7 years older than him.  She has become the "acting" mom for his children.  She comes to all of the games and watches his younger son and helps out with his son's soccer team... which he also coaches.  She herself has two sons.  And... she is also divorced.  Apparently her husband is what she called a "deadbeat dad".  Her oldest son plays football.  Guess who is the coach?  That's right, their Uncle.  Coach Matt.  As I watched her sons, ages 12 and 10, run around and tease each other while playing with their cousins, I thought how fortunate they were to have this brother and sister combination to keep them grounded.

In chatting with this woman yesterday, she revealed something else to me.  As the older sibling, she said, she was always protective of her little brother.  Especially, she said, after their Dad died.

Coach Matt was 13.

And I was astounded... almost to tears. To think that this Coach had to navigate the rocky waters of life without a Father, and ends up becoming a Dad as well as a surrogate Dad to his own nephews... and then choosing an authority role as coach for 3 different teams... it was amazing.

These people are not what you'd call the religious type.  I think they go to church, but not on a regular basis.  I'm positive they are not Catholic. And I wonder where they draw their strength from.

To be sure, I don't know all the intimate details of their lives.  I have no idea what the states of the souls are.  But I do know and recognize natural virtue when I see it.

And I have been continually impressed with the way Coach Matt has handled Little Boo's team.  Just the right combination of pushing them to do their best, yet joking around with them, and even sternly telling them when they were not performing the way he knew they could.  My own Dad and DH have been the only other coaches I've ever admired.  So this guy had a lot to live up to.

I came away from the game yesterday with a renewed sense of gratefulness.  God works wonders in people's lives, whether they fully recognize it or not.  He has blessed me with an overabundance of grace and happiness.  Much much more than I deserve.  I look at my family, at my husband who shares this life with me, and I am so very grateful.  At the same time, I do not ever think that I am better than those He chooses to place in my path.  I am continually humbled by the lessons I am learning, because I know that it is most definitely not I that deserves the credit for this blessed life I lead.

In fact, the knowledge of my own sinfulness only makes me cling all the more closer to Him and my Faith in awe and thanksgiving.

Because We Were Separated at Birth....

... and because my brain can barely string two sentences together...

I present to you my "twin" Danielle, who has perfectly captured every aspect of my thoughts on homeschooling.


My Annual Homeschool Freak Out



Yes, we started yesterday. Yes, it's overwhelming. No, I wouldn't change it for a thing.

And here we go again today.

:)

Slowing Down

I climb the stairs and take a deep breath.  I can't seem to catch it. When did we add in all those extra steps, anyway? 
;P
Suddenly I am assaulted from within.  The Little Dude is making himself known, berating me in his own way for pushing myself again. Seems like every time I try to get something accomplished and then sit down, the WWE takes up residency in my womb.

It's a good sign, I know. But it certainly is wearing me down.

With all of my other pregnancies, I was able to *ignore* my expanding belly and proceed with life as usual.  Sure, my clothes were snug and I eventually had to switch into maternity wear, but I never skipped a beat in my daily routine.

This time?  I feel like my house is on a slant, and that every step I take is uphill.  I persevere with my back, leg and arm exercises.  I try to dress is a way that is comfortable and conducive to exercise.  I am attempting to trick myself into thinking that I am still 28 and can do all I did when pregnant with Little Dear.... while keeping in mind that I'm no spring chicken and I need to be more aware of my ever expanding mid-section.

It ain't working.
:P

And so... I am forced to slow down.  To sit and relax while DH cooks dinner on the weekends.  He has had to physically push me (gently, of course) to the couch and force me to stay there while he cleans.  He pulls me up the stairs and propels me to the tub.  He tries to imagine what it must be like to carry this extra 20 lbs (yes... already!) throughout the day... and groans in sympathy.  My kids, too, see the strain and pat me on the back as they dart up the stairs ahead of me, leaving me in the dust.  They check on me often (a little too often) when I'm resting in bed or on the couch.  They'll even step in to lift or carry something for me... esp if I ask with a pitiful look in my eyes.....

:)

I wanted this, still want this, I remind myself.  It's what I've longed for, dreamed of... just one more chance to inhale that sweet newborn smell. To be the Mama... the one the cries are for... the only one who can appease.  It's a steep price, at least for my weak will and shaky legs... one that I had blissfully forgotten.  And with a much-dreaded c-section on the horizon, there are bigger hurdles in sight.

For now, though, I will take each day as it comes. 

Bask in my bigness...
Cherish the kicks...
Imagine the sweet sleeps...
And pray for the grace to meet the next month, week, day... task...
with love and patience.

:)

Daybook: Anticipation

This week promises to be a busy one.  We have a birthday to celebrate today, some much anticipated out of town guests coming in tomorrow, our bathroom remodel is in the "detailed" work stages, our home school plans need to take shape quickly, as does the house, if we hope to make a trip to Colorado before the summer is gone.... not much time left over for pondering... or blogging, for that matter.

;)


Outside my Window...

Searing, scorching sun.  I'm not one to complain, even though we have had triple digit temps for well over a week!  I love the warmth on my skin... as long as I am immersed in water.  Which is most definitely where we'll be this afternoon if I can get my laundry list of things accomplished by lunch time.



I am Listening to....

A very eager 11 yr old waiting (patiently?) for his siblings and Dad to wake up so he can open his presents.  We do birthday presents in the morning before Dad heads off to work.  Then it's the birthday child's choice for dinner and dessert.  Should be a fun day.



I am Wearing...

Addidas sports skort, white tank, black croc sandals.  None of it maternity.... some of the maternity tops I've looked at have been simply too large, but I have a sneaking suspicion that I'll be needing them. 
Very. Soon.
;P


I am so Grateful for...

~Our tub!  It's been a month since I've been able to indulge in my nightly luxury.  DH cleaned it thoroughly yesterday so I could reinstate this ritual.  Boy... it felt great! (shall I show you how lovely it looks?  Sorry... the perfectionist in me wants to wait until the whole room is finished....)
~The internet.  The finding and connecting of like-minds is a wonderful thing.... making those connections IRL possible.  Very very good.



I am Pondering...

Charity in all circumstances.  Even when, and especially when, it may be true ignorance on the part of the other that necessitates that you be charitable.  Mass at our parish yesterday has spawned these thoughts.  And the sight of Our Lord in the form of a consecrated host under the sneaker of the teenager in front of me. (unbeknownst to the teenager..) Even though I acted quickly, it still pains me today.



I am Reading...

The Ministry of Motherhood, Severe Mercy (2nd go-round) and In Conversation with God. 
HELP!  I have book club tonight, where we pick for the year. Any suggestions or recommendations? 


I am Thinking...

Way. Too. Much.


 I am Creating...

An organized home.  Before we attempt one last trip to see my parents, there is a list of things I need to accomplish.  I would warn that blogging will be scarce these next few weeks, but who am I kidding.  Scarce and blogging have been synonymous around here for awhile.  That's ok!  I'm connecting where I need to connect, and accomplishing what needs to get accomplished.



On my iPod...

Looking at these, and getting excited.
In the meantime, Action Man has absconded the iPod and has discovered the wonderful world of old time radio shows like The Shadow and such.  Also, the inglorious music of Green Day.  Hmmmm.  Time for him to get himself a new mp3 player?


Towards a Real Education...

We are ditching the state-funded curriculum this year and joining our local, wonderful home school co-op.  The parent orientation meeting was last week.  The kids will be doing some amazing work together.  I am so very excited!


Towards Rhythm and Beauty...

De-clutter, organize, and clean.  De-clutter, organize, and clean.  De-clutter, organize, and clean. That's my mantra this week.


I am Hoping and Praying...

For Lil Sis.  Lots of excitement on the horizon. God has been doing some amazing things this past week.  It really defies all human explanation.  And is so inspiring for this sometimes-world-weary Mama.


Around the House...

That whole de-clutter and organize thing.  Plus a few projects to boost the look of the place, esp the home school room.  Master bathroom will be finished in a few weeks.  To say I am tired of having a shop vac and other various tools strewn throughout my bedroom would be an understatement.  I can't wait to have it all completed!! (And neither can DH, poor man.  He's been working like crazy, and just needs a break!)


From the Kitchen...

Birthday cake and tortilla soup for dinner for Sports Fan.  Never mind that it will be 105 today.  :P



One of my Favorite Things...

11 year old boys who still love Playmobil.



A Few Plans for the Rest of the Week...

Birthday dinner, book club, out of town dinner guests, and lots of house projects.
Perfect for these dog days of summer!


:)

On Joy-Filled Blogging

"The influence of a beautiful, helpful, hopeful character is contagious, and may revolutionize a whole town. . . . People radiate what is in their minds and in their hearts. If a man feels kindly and obliging, his neighbors will feel that way, too, before long. But if he scolds and scowls and criticizes -- his neighbors will return scowl for scowl, and add interest!"

From the comment box of this post.

Very good advice for all, whether a blogger or not.

Happy Weekend, Y'all!

:)


h/t: Elizabeth

Advice For A Young Heart

Dear Nutmeg, at the tender age of 21~

So, you've met this guy, and started dating. And you've got a zillion questions swirling around your head and you are so very confused right now.

Two years ago, when you first laid eyes on him, you were astonished. His crystal blue eyes penetrated your heart in a way you never thought possible. His crazy hair and wild clothes only furthered your intrigue. His easy smile cinched the deal. But it would be years before you knew for sure...

He's a soccer player. Goalie for the college team. Funny how you didn't realize it at the time, didn't recognize the pattern... but this would be the third soccer player you had dated since high school. Standing on the sidelines, cheering loudly (a passion which continues as you cheer on your own children now) was a familiar scenario to you. Comforting, and sure. This is where you belong. This is instinctual, not learned. And the other girlfriends look to you to explain this enigmatic sport and all it's nuances... just to be able to relate, to understand their guys a little better. But for you? This is home.

You've had your ups and downs together. The "Junior Year" deadline is rapidly approaching... the one you had set at the end of Freshman Year.... If we're still together by Junior Year.... and suddenly here it is. And you feel no more sure about what God has in store for you than you did right at the beginning, at the first introduction when your heart was swept up in the moment and your eyes met, and your souls touched.

You've seen so much, and done so much these past years together. The west coast is an amazing venue for courtship. From Napa Valley to Tijuana... you have traveled it all. But most important were the talks, the time shared, not necessarily the backdrop. For each discussion, and yes, each fight, you both came away changed. The potter was molding the clay, and however painful it sometimes was, you will see also how necessary... and you will be grateful someday.

As you embark on this journey, this beginning, with all of it's uncertainty and trembling joy... here is my advice.

Stay ever close to Him. He alone knows your heart completely. No one else ever will, and... you know what? That is how it is meant to be. And because He knows you like no one else, He will find and mold your perfect fit. If you trust Him with this task completely, your life and your love together will become the most wondrous work of art imaginable.

As you look back on this time of your life, dear Nutmeg at 21... you will wish you had enjoyed the ride a bit more. That you had not worried so much, had not tried to take the helm and steer the boat. You see now how fruitless and pointless that was. You were never in control. You were never meant to be. How could you have known what a beautiful masterpiece was being woven in your life? How could you have taken the place of the master at work? Those knots you see? They are your own doing.. your own bumbling attempts to interfere....

As I sit here, expectant with our 6th child, dear Nutmeg at 21, I can assure you. God knew what he was doing. When your paths crossed and your eyes met, it was meant to be. When your heart was full of doubts and your heart full of pain, He was there, guiding the strokes that brought you closer together.

This uncertainty and trembling joy? All part of the plan.

Immerse yourself in it.

It's the stuff of Life.



*These ruminations may or may not be due to the fact that Lil Sis will be leaving(!) us(!) at the end of the month... and while I am excited for her, I am nostalgic as well for that time in my life of new beginnings....

Snapshot

Currently Watching:  Nothing.  Nada.  We do have The Blind Side from Netflix sitting in our living room... looking forward to a movie night with DH!

State of the House: Clean!  I rallied the kids last night while DH was at work and we vacuumed and mopped and put everything in it's place.  So nice for him to come home and see how much we appreciate his hard work.

State of the Laundry:  Washed, dried and put away.  Two more loads to do for tomorrow. 

State of my Mind:  Very content.  Very happy.  Very joyful.  When someone you are close to, is on the brink of the possibility of a beautiful thing, you can't help but be happy for them.  Lots of prayers, and lots of chats.  I can't wait to see what God has in store!

Enjoying:  Summer.  A bit too much, I'm afraid.  Can you believe it's July 30th?  JULY 30TH, Y'ALL!! Why is my home school room still a mess? Why aren't my books for next year ordered?  What is the plan, anyway???? 
oookay... back to my regularly scheduled pool day....  :P

Readying For:  A trip north? Another day at the lake?  Not too sure.  We are in the midst of birthday month here... so it's presents and cake and ice cream every week.  Not such a bad thing!  :)

Realizing:  That it's hard to let go.  Big things, small things... it's hard to just pray and trust that what is meant to be, will be.  If only we let Him take over.

Grateful:  For my life.  For what DH and I have worked so hard to build together.  For the inspiration that he is.  And for what is to come.


:)

There's A Word For That

And it's a simple one...

AWESOME.


Yes, the writings of Simcha Fisher deserve a blog post all their own.

:)

He

He is the presence of protection in the house.  The strength and fortitude behind my actions.  Invisible mountain underneath my weak will and wearied arms.

He supports his family.  Right now working two jobs... just until the baby comes. To provide for this unplanned joy.  Gone for 12 hours, one job to the next, he labors for us.

He sees me resting, tells me not to get up.  Grabs the mop and bucket and cleans. After all of his duties, he gives even more. 

His face lights up as the youngest twirls in front of him.   Scooping her up, he kisses her as she squirms away.  He is the measure of Love and affirmation.  The one they turn to with hope-filled eyes.  The one they can't wait to tell... No, I'll tell Dad.

He lovingly relates to the difficult child. The one who ruffles all the feathers... the one who just moments before had been the cause of a massive meltdown.  The one who is now seeking forgiveness.  Forgiveness through relating.  And patiently, he gives it.

He is not perfect.  He comes to me in the morning, wakes me with kisses, and whispers in my ear.  And the darkness and pain from the previous day vanishes. Sunshine bursts through and all is set right.  We smile, eyes crinkling at the corners.  14 years of marriage, 19 years of knowing.  Half my life.

:)


No, it's not our anniversary... just a long overdue post. :)

Having A Child Is A Selfish Act

When I read those words, my jaw hit the floor.

Seriously?

Some infamous "Anonymous" commenter at a popular blog was putting forth this statement as an argument against those who say that childlessness = selfishness.  Because, you know, the most effective way to argue a point is to turn around and say, "nuh-uh, YOU ARE!"

:P

Seriously.

DH and I have made some pretty selfish decisions in our time, but none of them, believe me, have to do with our decision to remain open to life.  If someone had been at our house the morning I held my 3 month old son, crying and staring in disbelief at the two pink lines that announced the existence of Little Dear, and told me that I was selfish, I would have grabbed the nearest butcher knife and gone on a rampage.  Never mind that my hormones were out of whack, and my almost two year old son was as yet not potty trained... it was a stretching and testing of my Faith and Trust in God and the Wisdom of Holy Mother Church.  Let me tell you, if I ever had a crisis of Faith in my life, it was right there on the bathroom floor that fateful November morning.

As the years have gone by, and my rough edges smoothed over by time and experience, I thank God and His Church for the Wisdom and Grace that have been poured down through the ages.

You see, if it had been up to me, Little Dear would never have been conceived.

Overwhelmed with two failed attempts at nursing, a high maintenance toddler and high needs newborn, I was at my limit.  How in the world could I have ever thought I'd be ready for another child?  Did I really think that having another baby would be the most fulfilling event that could happen to me?  That I would finally be satisfied?  Was it selfish of me to accept Little Dear into our already chaotic home?  Was it really an act of selfishness when I bowed my will to His and accepted this...*gulp* ... gift? 

I have grown and been stretched in so many ways... well beyond the stretch marks that have marked my many pregnancies.  I'm not perfect. No, not by a long shot.  But my selfishness has taken a direct, fatal, hit. No more do I assume that when I want something to happen, it will.  No more do I rage against the inconvenience of sick children, husband, or self. 

Something has happened to my heart along the way as well.  It has been opened to be more accepting, more loving, more tolerant.  I have seen both sides of the coin.  Infertility and child-bearing both.  Being overwhelmed, confused, sad, and joyful.  Sometimes all at once.

Parenthood is a vocation, a lifelong commitment. Not to be taken lightly, but also not to be thrown to the side as a disposable option.  Those who suffer from infertility can tell you, with much pain, what you are throwing away.  And those who live the chaotic life of a mom of many can also articulate what even they could never have imagined in their wildest dreams.

That in saying "yes" to this life, you became a part of something much bigger than just the mere "wants" or perceived "needs"you once had.  You became a part of the gift of creation.  And it's not about you anymore.  What you have helped to bring into existence is another being, another person, wholly separate and distinct from your own self.  There simply is no room for selfishness now.  It is not even a factor.  It cannot be.  You throw your whole self into the raising of this child.  But why?  For your own fulfillment?  Really?  How many nighttime wakings would you be willing to endure to bring about this supposed self-fulfillment?  How many vomit clean ups or messy diapers? How many never-ending cries for "mama"? How many countless interruptions? How many how many how many?

No.

This is all about Love now.  The wonderment and anxiety and heartbreak of unconditional love.  It is this love that propels a parent through the many joys and heartbreaks of raising a child.  It is the reason behind the many things we do.  The nighttime wakings, the feedings, the baseball games, the heartfelt conversations. It is because we love the other so very much more than we love ourselves, that we do these things. 

And what a tremendous gift, to be able to experience what it is like... to love like God.

Parenting An *Almost* Teenager

I'd like to make myself believe... that planet earth turns slowly.

It's hard to say that I'd rather stay awake

When I'm asleep...

...'cause everything is never as it seems....*

Action Man will be 13 in November of this year.  A few years ago, when contemplating the up and coming dreaded teen years, I vowed that I would not expect my boy to become a horrifying force of confusion and angst in our happy homeschooling home.  Surely, I thought to myself, there were ways and methods to guarantee that he, and I, and everyone in the home, would make the transition smoothly... with nary a ripple in the fabric of our days.

HA.

Much to my surprise... Action Man has decided that he WILL be growing up... rapidly and with many ripples.  Tidal waves, actually.

And this shift will take place overnight.

Suddenly, Sports Fan has found that his constant companion is moody and distant.  He needs "time to himself" because he is "growing up"  (these explanations provided by Sports Fan include an over-emphasis of the quotation marks, along with vigorous eye-rolling)

My own response has been varied.  While the storms rage and the frustrations mount, I have oscillated between understanding and indignation.  I understand that Action Man needs his space, that Sports Fan is developing an uncanny ability to push. just. the. right. buttons... and that Little Boo has upped the ante of annoyance to beyond bearable.

However.

I also point out that we are still a family unit.  That we still must get along sohelpme.... And that this is our path to heaven.  Together.  Like it or not. And respect? goes a long long way, my son.

I'm learning a few things, too.  Things that I have observed from other parents... parents I trust and respect, especially my parents, in remembering my own tulmultuous teenage years and how well they handled everything I threw at them. And I threw a lot at them.

1. Teenagers still need guidance.  They need to be "checked on."  Both my boys are starting the whole "lying" thing again.  But it's more subtle now.  Not as easy to "catch."  It's a pain to run upstairs and see if they really *did* clean their room, but I do it.  Make them wait downstairs, poised on their bikes, ready to take off with their friends... and haul their butts back up if, in fact, the vacuuming has not been finished like they said it was.  They need to know that there will be consequences for these fibs.  And a little guilt every now and then doesn't hurt.  Just a little, mind you, or else it loses it's effect.

2.  Teenagers need to be respected. They need a listening ear.  As the little ones multiply and clamor for attention, it becomes almost impossible to provide the setting for those all-important conversations about hockey, or clothes, or friendships, or music. Many golden opportunities can be overlooked in the midst of a hectic day.  Action Man almost always comes back downstairs after the "good-nights" have been said.  He parks himself on the couch and chats it up with us.  DH is much more tolerant of this time.  I try to grin, but groan inwardly... and sometimes not so inwardly.  Something I need to work on.

3.  Teenagers need privileges.  Action Man got an mp3 player for his 12th birthday.  He has an e-mail account.  He is allowed to cross the "big" street on his bike and go visit his friends.  We grant him leeway with watching "extra" shows on Netflix... (ok, so it's Liberty's Kids... who can say no to that?!?) 
He may not seem that much older than his 10 year old brother, but at this stage, the difference between them is a chasm.  And they both feel it.  Sports Fan may not like it, but his turn is coming.  The key is to preserve that relationship as best as we can until he catches up. 

4.  We need to enjoy what our teenagers enjoy without attaching moral importance to every single solitary thing.  I know I will ruffle some feathers here. But there are some hills not worth dying on.
Action Man has the advantage of having a hip, cool Auntie who lives with us and makes him awesome cd's of the music he enjoys.  So, we have heard Miley Cyrus, and Justin Bieber and who knows what else... ad nauseam in our living room during clean up... and other random times.  Do I like this music?  Not really. Are these kids people I want my kids to idolize? Um... no.  But we do not have posters up nor do we watch tv shows where they are featured.  We simply enjoy their talent.  Together.
Oh, and we mimic their hairstyle.  Erm... that would be Justin Bieber's, not Miley's.  :P
And yes, it drives me crazy that Action Man's hair hangs in his face and curls around his ears and generally looks like he just rolled out of bed... but I know that it's temporary.  He has already made some noise about it getting too hot... not a coincidence that I am allowing this as we approach 100+ temps... I can be a pretty smart mama, you know.

;)

It's a tightrope walk, this balance between being there and letting go.

Between guiding and trusting. 

But there is a lot to enjoy and marvel at along the way. Because, if nothing else, teenagers are notorious for their wide open eyes and big plans.  They are on the verge of taking on the world.

I'd like to make myself believe... that planet earth turns slowly.

It's hard to say that I'd rather stay awake

When I'm asleep...

Because my dreams are bursting at the seams.*

:)


*Lyrics brought to you by one of Action Man's favorite bands... Owl City. And this Mama must admit they're growing on her, too. :)

Daybook: Emerging from the Haze

... the haze of nausea, that is.  It's a slow process this time around.  I'm not bouncing back as quickly as I'd like.  But I'm trying to be patient, and taking full advantage of my fleeting feelings of "normalcy" as they crop up. Slowly but surely, I'll be back to my old self.


Outside my Window....

Sunshine and cool temps.  At least for the morning.  We are at that time in Spring where I love living in Texas.  Cool, open-window nights and warm, afternoon sun that soaks right into your bones.  We've been doing a lot of schooling outside.
:)


I Am Listening To...

A neighbor mow his lawn.


I Am So Grateful For...

Friends who bring me a meal when I feel like I simply cannot cope anymore, and offer me sage advice when I commit to something and then panic about following through.


I'm Pondering...

Grace.  And how it comes even when we are not worthy.  Even when we fall on our faces and fail utterly.  It's still there for the taking.  I am so grateful.


I Am Reading...

In between books right now.  Still keeping up with In Conversation With God for my morning/mid-day prayer time.  I'd like to get my hands on Michael O'Brien's latest.  And am waiting (patiently?) for Elizabeth and Danielle's book.
:)



I Am Thinking...

About tea parties and little girls.  I'm hosting a girlie tea party here this weekend for our homeschool group.  Having never done this before, I am a bit nervous.  Hopefully it will all turn out beautifully.  Pictures, promise!



I Am Creating...

Lots of plans in my head.  My energy is slowly returning... very slowly.  And the chaos is starting to bother me.  Plus, we have a major road trip coming up in a few weeks.  Lots of things to do before then!



Towards a Real Education...

I'm focusing mostly on the little girls these days.  The older kids' school is winding down with standardized testing this week.  My little ones are eager to keep at it, though.  I'm fighting the temptation to declare an early summer vacation.


Towards Rhythm and Beauty...

I'm slowly reclaiming my house.  The chore chart is up again, and the kids have been warned.  It's always hard to get back into a routine, but I hope it won't be too hard of a transition this time.


I'm Hoping and Praying...

For a very special intention.  This is the second friend with a due date near mine to have suffered a miscarriage.  It saddens me greatly.  The pain is so close, so sharp still... after all this time.


In The Garden...

A little green tomato has appeared!  And the abundant yellow flowers on all of the plants are very promising indeed.  Our strawberries are miniscule, but the herbs are doing well.  My next door neighbor helped me plant geraniums in the front bed, and has given me some asylum for the back.   Little Boo is out there right now preparing the beds for me.



Around The House...

Cleaning.  And laundry. And baking.  I have a lot of catch up to do!



From The Kitchen...

Rhubarb!  I bought some at the store yesterday, along with some strawberries.  I'm thinking Strawberry-Rhubarb Crunch served with whipped cream sounds heavenly right now.


One of my Favorite Things...

Mornings in the sunshine.  The wind is chilly this morning, but weeding the tomato patch with the warm sun on my back and listening to a chattering Little Love was delightful.  The fresh air and sunshine always lifts my spirits and calms my stomach... every. time.



A Few Plans for the Rest of the Week...

State testing for the kids, confession, a haircut for me, (and a birthday, too!) along with Bunco, a tea party, and a meal for a friend with a new blessing.  Yes, I am totally taking my time getting back into the swing of things, can't you tell?
:P


A Picture Thought I Am Sharing...

Little Boo... reaching towards great heights.

:)

Two Wolves

One evening an old Cherokee told his grandson about a battle that goes on inside people.

He said, "My son, the battle is between two wolves inside us all.

"One is Evil - It is anger, envy, jealousy, sorrow, regret, greed, arrogance, self-pity, guilt, resentment, inferiority, lies, false pride, superiority, and ego.

"The other is Good - It is joy, peace, love, hope, serenity, humility, kindness, honesty, benevolence, empathy, generosity, truth, compassion and faith."

The grandson thought about it for a minute and then asked his grandfather: "Which wolf wins?"

The old Cherokee simply replied, "The one you feed."





h/t my inbox

Little Miracles

As I stumble throughout my days, counting down to the magic "12 week" mark when I can finally eat... and breathe... and enjoy my expanding belly...

I have to admit I haven't been the happiest of campers.

I am so thrilled that this new life is growing inside me... it's just that the physical side effects have left me weakened.  I don't do "weak" well.

Who does?

So, yes, I have been discouraged.  And dismayed.  And disgusted.  Crawling uphill, with no respite in sight.  Tons to do and no energy.  Dragging through my days and not feeling God's push.  Praying, and then forgetting my prayer.

Until today. God showed me today how much He loves me, by allowing other people to love me.

~Today, a wonderful friend of Lil Sis' came over.  She needed pictures of the kids for a class project, and wanted to take care of them for awhile so I could rest.  She came bearing cupcakes.  The kids were ecstatic.  Just as I was about to retire, she pulled out a bag... a huge bag... of brand new, customized crocs.  One pair for each of us.  I couldn't believe my eyes. She works at one of their stores and gets a discount.  She accessorized each pair according to the kids' personalities. They are so awesome. The kids haven't taken them off.

~Also today,  after enduring enjoying 3 hockey games compliments of my boys, I came home to a miraculous e-mail. You see, the awesome camp my kids attend every year is having registration this week.  It's hierarchical.  And since we do not belong to the parish, or the school, I really have to be on track with getting our forms in pronto.  Well, being sick and scatter-brained... I totally dropped the ball.  I sent an e-mail to the guy in charge, asking if there was any room left at all.  His response?  Can't have a camp without the Nutty Family.  Attached are the forms.  Get them to me ASAP.

 Tiny, small miracles.  But how they have boosted my spirits today!  When I e-mailed the head of the camp, exclaiming my gratitude and telling him how we all thought it a miracle, he summed it up perfectly:

Our God is a God of miracles.
I hope the children learn to expect them with a total sold-out faith.

Amen. (And maybe the Mama can begin to learn that, too...)

:)

Waiting

The azaleas in our backyard are poised, ready to celebrate.
















On the verge of bursting forth in glory and triumph.


















Although there a few, and I can so relate, who cannot wait to spread the joyful news!

Happy and Blessed Easter, y'all~

:)