To Know and Be Known

The other day, I stopped on a friend’s post on Facebook while scrolling through my newsfeed.   Her son had been tasked with taking a survey of adults by his teacher at school.  His question for all of us over-18-year-olds?  

 “What is the most serious problem in the world today?”

I read through the responses, and wasn’t surprised to see some incredible societal ills in the answers.   Racism.  Poverty.  Genocide.   Starvation. Bigotry.  Socialism.  Selfishness.

None were all that surprising - it’s no secret that around the world, various communities are dealing with the horrible implications of these problems.  People are getting hurt.   Lives are being lost.   Inequality seems to be the name of the game.   Around the world, millions are being treated with a lack of dignity and justice.

I kept thinking about that question all day, though, as I went about my chores and tasks.   All of these problems aren’t new to us humans - we can read through history books to see the same stories told, over and over again.   The only real difference is often just who the actors in the story are.    

The same injustices, the same violence, the same pain.

It brought to mind something a friend of mine once said,  which she attributed to her husband.   

“The deepest desire of any human being is to know and be known.”

I couldn’t help but wonder how much more progress we could make in the elimination of these problems if we took his statement to heart:  the deepest desire of any human being is to know and be known.

I think, honestly, my friend’s husband’s statement is the true answer to the question posed on Facebook yesterday morning.   The most serious problem today is that we’ve forgotten the deepest desire of any human being is to know and be known.

How many times do we brush off what someone else is saying?   It’s a common complaint in our house, with growing numbers of teenage boys.   They listen to the first few words of our statement or request and assume they know the way that the statement or request is going to end, and act accordingly……only to find out after the fact that they were wrong and did the wrong thing or didn’t get the information that they needed.   It’s incredibly frustrating as a parent, but I wonder…..how often are we adults guilty of doing the same thing?

In today’s world, it’s so easy to go through our days without actually really *knowing* anyone, isn’t it?  We have great superficial knowledge of hundreds, maybe even thousands of people, but how many people can we say we really, truly *know*?    Parents, how many of us are guilty of making assumptions about the desires and wills of our kiddos, wanting to know who we want them to be, not who they really are?

I know I’m guilty of all of that.

I often justify it by rationalizing that it’s okay, I’m an introvert (seriously through and through, I’m an introvert), so I don’t really need to *know* that many people to be comfortable or satisfied.   I have a core group of 3 friends and a husband, and that’s enough to “fill my bucket.”  I don’t feel this deep need to form deep relationships with a ton of people.  Four is good for me, thanks!

But….is that really it?   Do I really have to form a deep, abiding friendship with someone to really, truly know them?  

As I thought more about it yesterday, I came to the conclusion that no, I don’t have to form a “bosom friend”  with everyone (yes, I’m referencing Anne of Green Gables.   Deal with it.  I’m a homeschooling mom.  We do these things).  That’s not the only way to know or be known by another human being.

I don’t have to form a lifetime friendship with everyone out there in order to know them.

What I have to do is this:  I have to listen to them.  Truly listen to them.

Just like my teenagers and how their lack of listening causes problems later on for them, my lack of listening to those around me is contributing to the problems facing the world today - those answers listed on Facebook yesterday.

When someone tells me their experiences or their opinions, do I truly listen?   Or instead, do I just hear the words, formatting my response in my head?    

Everything that they tell me is a little piece of the puzzle in getting to know them.   Every time I listen, truly listen, another piece falls into place.

It’s so hard to really listen to anything in today’s world, isn’t it?  There’s so much noise, so much distraction.   Alert tones, flashing lights, stock videos, sound bites, memes.   It’s all there to distract us - to keep us from truly seeing the person in front of us (or behind the computer).

I wonder what would happen if we said, “No.  I refuse to be distracted.   I commit to listening to you - even if I don’t agree - and take the time to allow myself to *know* you and *be known* by you?”

We won’t end racism or poverty or selfishness or starvation or bigotry or genocide or ________ in a day by listening to the person in front of us.  

But we will know them and be known by them, and I can’t help but imagine that by doing so, we will chip away at the problems facing the world today.   

One human being at a time.

Get out there, friends.  Your deepest desire in life is to know and be known.   So is your neighbour’s.   So is your Facebook friend’s.   So is the person’s in the school drop off line.

Go know them.   Let them know you.

Let’s change the world for the next person we see.

Have a good weekend, friends.  

"I Felt Trapped in a Machine of My Own Making"

***First of all, holy smokes, y'all.   Sunday's post is over 7K views.  That might not be a lot to some of you more experienced bloggers, but it's absolutely crazy to this little ol' mom blogger.   Thank you for visiting, friends, and welcome to the Circus!  Take your time and make yourself at home!***

The other day, I was listening to a TED radio hour podcast while working on my day-to-day chores.  It's a guilty pleasure of mine - when no one is around or the kids are happy and playing, I will plug in an earphone and listen to a podcast of my own choosing.   This episode was titled "Comfort Zone" and it was from way back in April.   During the podcast, they were speaking with Tim Ferriss, an entrepreneur and podcaster in his own right.   I was mindlessly completing my tasks, listening with half an ear, when something he said brought me to a standstill:

"I felt trapped in a machine of my own making."

I seriously froze.   I'm pretty sure that my hands even froze in the air, mid-task.   This simple sentence resonated deep within me, all the way down to my core.

How many of us feel the same way?  Trapped in a machine of our own making?

The monotony of daily life.   The endless loads of laundry and chores to complete.   The taxiing our kids from one activity to another.   Maybe even a job that we hate.   A schedule that's causing us to rush through the day, exhausted by bedtime, and not even really paying attention to what's around us?

Maybe it's the machine of social media - always having to be more, to do more, to compete.  

A grinding machine, constantly whirring, constantly buzzing, constantly pushing you to your limit.

If you're anything like me, it is definitely a machine of your own making.

One thing builds on top of another: one commitment, one job, one "yes", one more hour in the office, one more activity, one less hour of sleep sacrificed to yet another chore that you ran out of time for during the day.  Before you know it, you're trapped in the machine.  

Guys, this machine does *not* care about your wellbeing, and definitely not the wellbeing of your family.

My machine was a combination one - I guess I'm really good at multitasking.   Our schedule had gotten out of control and I was spending 2+ hours a day in the car, driving kids to various commitments.  I was volunteering on multiple different fronts.   Mike's job had him working and gone like crazy (12-13 hour days, plus 24-72 hours per week on call), and we couldn't afford to take any kind of pay cut and still pay the bills.  Our health - and the health of our children - were all  suffering.

It's why we moved - it was a chance to make a clean break, and start again.   We blamed a lot of the staying home and not getting involved in things after our move on the flu season (and it was partially that - it was *so bad* near us, and the idea of getting that sick again was/is terrifying to me, and I'm already starting to feel the panic about this coming year's flu season - pray for me!), but it was also a bit of a deliberate choice on our part.    It was a way to slow down, to be truly present to each other, and recover from that machine we'd been trapped in before our move.

I'm starting to get nervous about this coming school year - a high schooler, a middle schooler, an elementary schooler, and two preschoolers.  Gymnastics and skiing.  Music lessons 3 out of 5 weekdays.  A husband who still works crazy hours, albeit better ones than the old job.    I am nervous about losing my ability to focus on my health - I've come such a long way since moving here and I'm nervous that I'm going to backslide under the new schedule.   

With a goal of being proactive, I've planned out 6 weeks of lessons, and designed a visual schedule for the little ones to hopefully get a good flow going each day.    I've ordered lunch boxes, and plan on packing lunches every night (or assigning the lunch packing to a big kid every night) to make each day be a little bit easier on me.   My goal over the next few weeks is to prep a bunch of freezer meals so I can pre-make dinners for the first few weeks of school.   Even as I try to prepare, I feel my old friend Anxiety whispering that I won't be able to do it all, I won't be able to keep the perfect schedule, that I'll fail someone: myself, Mike, the kids, heck, even the chickens.

But you know what, friends?

I will fail.   Over and over again.  I know I will.   And as that anxiety rises about not being perfect, I've been trying hard to remind myself that I will *never* be perfect, and that's okay.  Some days, we won't get all of the schoolwork done.  Some days I'll forget about dinner and we'll end up getting pizza.  Some days, I won't have time for a workout.

And that's okay.

I'm not perfect.

You see, I think perfection was the name of the machine I'd become trapped in.   I wanted so badly to be perfect - healthy dinners, kids in all.the.things that they wanted to be in.   Co-op and club attendance to counteract the "socialization" arguments.  High test scores to prove that I was the perfect homeschooling mom.  Instagram worthy house pictures.   Smiling faces at field trips.

And what it got me was perfectly sick and tired.   Quite literally.

So, friends, this year I'm not going for perfect, and I remind myself of that every time the anxiety starts to rise.

I'm going for healthy.

I'm going for happy.  

I'm going for rested.

I'm going for smiles.

I'm going for laughter.

I'm going for hugs and cuddles.

I'm going for playtime.

I'm going for actual conversations with my husband, and not just falling asleep side-by-side on the couch.  

I'm going for increased activity on my fitness tracker.  

I'm going for protected relaxation times for myself *and* my kids.

It might mean that I can't say yes to the co-ops and the field trips and the parish dinners.   It might mean that we say no to a gym meet or two.  It might mean that we stay home for the holidays.  It might mean hiring someone else to do my grading (which I've already done).  It might mean sandwiches for lunch instead of a hot meal.   It might mean cereal for breakfast.  

It might not be perfect, but it will be good.

And good enough is good enough for me this year.

To the mom in the front pew....

To the mom in the front pew:

Usually, I’m you.  I’m that mom in the front pew, trying to wrestle little ones and teach them how to participate in the Sunday Mass.

Today, however, I was sitting alone in the row behind you.   My husband (God love him) had taken our 6 kids to visit his parents, leaving me home alone for a long weekend (!!).   Today was the first time since Lent that I’d gotten to sit alone during mass and really focus on the readings and actually listen to the homily.

But usually…..I’m you.   

I’m sitting there, desperately trying to keep an inquisitive two-year-old quiet, or at least using her whisper voice, and trying to keep the eight year old with special needs from bolting out of the pew.   I’m usually on my own, due to Mike’s job, and I just don’t quite have enough arms to keep them all “in my lap”, as the typical blogs with helpful hints advise. I bring the quiet books (like you), the blank books with instructions to “draw what they see” (like you), and sometimes even the lovies (like you).     We don’t bring snacks, but that’s only because food is a trigger for the eight year old.   If it works for you, so be it.

I know how disheartening it can be to have your child’s noises echo around the sanctuary.   Those of us who go to old, stone churches with lots of tile *really* know what it’s like.  I know the flush of heat on your face as the toddler drops something and the loud “CLANK” echoes around the room.   I know the walk of shame as you take the crying baby all the way from the front pew (because that’s the helpful hint: sit where your child can see) to the back of the church or the bathroom.   

But, today, as I watched you lovingly guide your children through the mass with nothing to distract me, I saw something else.

I saw the beginnings of a saint.

As I sat there listening to the readings, I heard your voice, whispering to your children.   Explaining what a word meant, and pointing out what was happening as we moved through the liturgy.

I heard the beginnings of a saint.

***“Be doers of the word and not hearers only, deluding yourselves.”  James 1:22****

Dear mom in the front pew, I see you.  

I see a mom, trying hard to raise a saint.

Friends, we are at a crisis point in our Church.   You know it.  I know it.   Evil has invaded our beloved Church at some of the highest levels.  

Dear mom in the pew, I beg you:   Do not let this evil dissuade you.   I know it can be so easy to justify dismissing the Truth of the Church based on the sins of Her public figures.   Oh my goodness, do I know.   

Do not let this evil distract you from the Truth.   Fight it with the best weapons we have - we moms have the chance to lead our children to become saints.   We have the responsibility to become saints ourselves.   This is our fight as the Church Militant.  This is our fight, and our chance to fight for holiness and Truth.

*** “The most deadly poison of our times is indifference.  And this happens, although the praise of God should know no limits.  Let us strive, therefore, to praise Him to the greatest extent of our powers.”  St Maximillian Kolbe ***

Dear mom in the pew, I will be sitting there, cheering you on.   Praying for your success.   Please pray for my own success.   Every week, I will be there to share a smile, maybe pick up a discarded toy, and encourage you in your vocation.   You are raising the next generation for our Church, and it is our generation that will rebuild His Church.   Our kids will be the next great generation of saints.  Do not give up, do not let Satan in through the crack that he’s made.   The foundation is still strong, we……you and I, and the holy priests (yes, there are holy priests - do not abandon them in this time of crisis!)……we will rebuild.

One of my favorite saints once said “The nation doesn’t simply need what we have.  It needs what we are.” (St Edith Stein).  My dear moms in the pew - any pew - our Church needs *us* now for who we are.   Our vocation to motherhood will be a source of strength for those fighting the battle for His Church.   Our sacrifice and love for our families will be the ammunition for those fighting for the victims, fighting for reparations, and fighting for renewal.

So, please do not give up.  Come to mass.  Show your children your love for the Eucharist.   Keep coming, with the crying babies and antsy toddlers and loud preschoolers.   Sit in that pew, and show them a love for Christ and how you will not abandon His Church now, but you will fight for Her.  Share with them the stories of the saints, the Beauty of creation, the glory of Truth.

We are raising saints, moms-in-the-pews.   

***”The Saints have always been the source and origin of renewal in the most difficult moments in the Church’s history”. St JPII****

Saints who will renew our beloved Church. 

 

Let’s get to work.   I’ll see you on Sunday.

Living through Life's Curveballs: My Do and Do Not Guide

As a lot of you know already, my grandmother passed away this week.   While it wasn’t necessarily unexpected - she’d been in relatively poor health for awhile, and slowly getting weaker - it was definitely not expected to happen this week.   Nor was it expected to happen so quickly - literally hours after phone calls and messages started getting sent amongst family members that Grandma wasn’t doing too well.

I’m struggling a bit with the news.   Again, it’s not like I didn’t know it was coming, it’s just that I wasn’t expecting it to happen this week.  I guess I thought I still had time to talk to her and maybe get down to see her (she lived in TX, while we’re in the tundra).  Life circumstances over the last few years made getting down to see her pretty much impossible with Mike’s job, Mr T’s health, and my own health complications.   Throw the cost of flying across the country with children into the mix, and we just hadn’t yet been able to make it work.  I’d done a reasonably well job at keeping in contact via email and Skype, but I could definitely have done better.   My week has been full of both guilt of not doing a better job with staying in touch, and sadness of the loss of someone who was not only one of the most faithful Catholic witnesses in my life growing up, but also someone who was incredibly supportive and encouraging in my own walk of trying to live an authentically Catholic life.

But most of all, there’s just plain sadness that she’s gone.   I know that I can do my job now, and pray for her, and hope that she’s in Heaven, enjoying the beatific vision, but I’m sad with the thought of her no longer being present here on Earth.  I suppose that’s the “typical” reaction for anyone who loses someone that they love, but it’s been so long since I personally have lost a family member or friend that I’m unsure of what is “right” to say or do.   

As much as I’d love to have Mike around this week for the sole fact that I really, truly am struggling to parent on a mental level (Netflix and take out dinners are my friend right now) and having another adult around would be amazingly helpful with that, there is a silver lining to this happening during a single parenting week.  Namely…..I’ve been able to spend a lot of time in my own head, sorting through my thoughts and emotions, and I’m not sure I would have really been able to do that with him around.   This is giving me a little bit of time to really do the introvert thing and lose myself in my own head (which is healing for me), without the guilt of feeling like I need to talk about it because I know he’s trying to support me through this.   I’m not sure if that makes sense, but I know that by the time he’s back from his call shift, I will feel more ready to work through the grief in a more “public” nature, and talk through things with him.

One of the things that keeps coming to my mind as I’m working through my emotions and responses to my grandmother’s death is this:   the need to be gentle with myself and the benefits of flexible dieting in this situation.   I know, I know, it seems weird to jump right into talking about dieting right after I tell you all that my grandmother just passed away, but bear with me for a minute.

You see, I’m not sure how I’d handle this if I wasn’t so far along on this flexible dieting journey right now.   Actually, that’s not true.  I know exactly how I’d handle this:   take out Thai food for every meal, a beer or glass of wine every day, and lots of ice cream and chocolate in between those two things.

And it’s not that those things are BAD, per se.   All of those things are delicious and part of my normal diet and lifestyle.

But not at the quantities I’d be enjoying if this had happened a year or so ago.  I’m positive of that.

This last 8 months or so of flexible dieting has given me a set of tools that I wasn’t really aware of before now.  I mean, sure, I’ve mentioned them and even said some of these things to friends and family, but I truly didn’t realize just how much they’d become a part of my standard tool kit in my own life.

I decided to take a few minutes today to write down some of these tools and tips that have been coming to mind over the last few days, in hopes that maybe something here will resonate with one of you dear readers, and will help you in the future when life throws you a curveball.

Because it will.  Curveballs are coming.   They will always be there, and it’s up to us to build up the tools we need to navigate through them without letting our healthy habits crash and burn.  

So, here they are - my Do’s and Do Not’s for when life throws you a curveball.  I hope they help you, like they’re helping me this week.

What to Do and Do Not Do When Surviving Curveballs

1. Do choose foods and activities that are as healthy as possible, but do not hyper focus and stress on them.   Every good choice will move you forward so much more than any bad choice will move you backward.
2. Do get some sleep.  Your body and mind need that time to repair the things that the stress will do to them.   Do not set any alarms that aren’t necessary.   Let your body and mind heal.
3. Do let yourself cheat a little bit.  Enjoy those comfort foods.  There’s a reason that we even have the phrase “comfort foods.”  Eat the things that make you think of home, or your childhood, or happier days.   Just do not pig out.   Remember that it’s all about moderation.
4. Do make sure to sneak workouts into your day.   They may not be the workouts you’re used to, but make sure you are moving and getting that blood pumping in some way.   Do not workout as a way to avoid what needs to be done, though.
5. Do accept help when it is offered to you, but do not be scared to say no if it’s not helpful.   In my own life, it is helpful to have meals delivered (so I say yes when someone says “Can I bring you a dinner/breakfast/etc?”.  It is not actually helpful to have my big kids go over to someone else’s house for a playdate, so I’ll turn those offers down).
6. Do take tracking your food on a day by day basis.   I didn’t track Tuesday or Wednesday, because it was too stressful to me to see my macros so far off and I needed to focus on letting meals be easy more than they were nutritious.   Do not give up on tracking completely, though.   Set a date where you will tentatively pick it back up again (Tomorrow for me).   When you get to that date, start logging your food or whatever else it is that you are tracking, and here’s the important piece:  If you’re not ready yet, it's okay to set a new date.  Just remember that your goal is to start tracking again, and truly keep that goal in mind.  
7. Do tell people what’s going on.  Your friends and family care about you.  Let them in a little bit and let them know what you’re going through and experiencing.   Do not feel the need to answer the phone when it rings, though.   Do it on your own schedule, not someone else’s.  It’s okay to call someone back when you’re ready.  Just because the phone is ringing does not mean that you need to answer it.
8. Do take time for yourself.  I’m currently taking a “self care gymnastics practice” where my oldest is babysitting the little ones so I can focus on getting some time to write and soothe my own soul.   Do not feel guilty about putting your own self care first sometimes.
9. Do check in with others who are in the situation with you, if that’s applicable.  Family members or friends who are dodging the same curveball that you are.        Do not get tunnel vision - remember that you are not alone in this experience, and stay connected.
10. Do get outside and get moving.  Never underestimate the power of fresh air and Vitamin D.   Just do not get sunburnt.  
11. Do remember that you are human and need to be cared for, too.   You are not a robot.  You need love and care, and never is that more important than when you’re dealing with a crisis, whether physical, spiritual, or emotional.   Do not go on auto-pilot.   I repeat, you are not a robot.
12. Do remember that life is more than food.  Food is nourishment.  It doesn’t have super powers and isn’t a master of Jedi mind control.   Food is food, and nothing else.  There is more to life than food.   It’s probably likely that there will be a lot of food choices out of your control in a time like this, so your goal is to remember that food is not in control, either.   Do not stop making the next right choice, but remember that the next right choice might mean that you give something else priority over what food is on your plate.
13. Do remember that this is almost always temporary.  Do not give in to despair.
14. Do break tasks and goals into manageable chunks.  I have a group of friends that start a “group of threes” thread on our website every day - they break their daily tasks and goals into groups of three and work on only three things at a time.   During a curveball time period like now, my groups of threes may be built out of pretty basic tasks (brush teeth/make bed/pray…..wash dishes/send texts/drink water….eat lunch/drive to gymnastics/check mail).   All things that on a normal day are pretty routine and I don’t even think about them…..but on a non-normal day, I need more focus.   Even though something as simple as remembering to brush my teeth or drink a glass of water is a total no-brainer on a normal day and never on my 3s list, on a non-normal day, those are the things that are the first to be forgotten.    Here’s the catch though: do not  write the groups of threes in pen.   Dry erase markers and boards will be your friend.  Remember that it’s okay to erase and regroup as many times as necessary.
15. Do seek help if you need it.  Do not hide away.  There are people - professionals, even - who have bigger "power tools" in their toolbox if you need them.  Reach out to them if you need to.   You are not a failure if you need a bigger tool than what you have in your possession.

So, there you have it.   My current guide for living through life’s curveballs.   

What would you add to my list?

**********

In your charity, I'm asking for prayers for my grandmother (Catherine) and my family.   

Requiem aeternam dona eis, Domine.

Et lux perpetua luceat eis.

Fidelium animae, per misericordiam Dei, requiescant in pace. Amen.

On living in a fishbowl, and other parenting struggles: a stream of consciousness post

As I creep back onto the blogging scene, I'm reminded of something that I've struggled with quite a bit in the past.  I really think it can be all distilled down to a sin of pride, but that doesn't make it any less of a struggle.  If anything, it's more of a struggle when it's looked at that way - it requires heroic virtue to combat.

It's not what most people usually think of when they think of pride:  I don't at all have any misconceptions that I'm an amazing example of humanity, that I'm this incredible Catholic and mom and wife that others need to look up to or who even has it remotely figured out.

It's not that at all.  Yes, I'm happy to share what has worked for us in the past, or things that are going well in life.   But the one thing I really don't want to do is become one of those Pottery-Barn-Worthy bloggers who only have perfectly filtered and edited photos and whose children are always clean and wearing coordinated clothing in them.   Who have the clean homes and Pinterest parties, and always seem to have healthy, well-balanced, beautiful meals on the table for their children who actually will eat them.   Who never seem to have issues with sin and always look perfectly put together for Sunday (and daily) Mass, and whose children always sit perfectly still in the pew during mass.

That's not me.

I'm pretty sure that's not anyone, really.

I want to be truthful, showing you the good and the bad.   I want to not hold back and let you see the vulnerability and the tears of frustration and pain.   I want to let you see my kids who still have dinner on their faces while in their pajamas for bedtime, or their clothes with grass stains and clashing colors.

I want to be able to share the good and the bad about Mike's job - the joy of welcoming new life, and the struggle of never sleeping and missing out on 1/2 of family life.

I want to show you the beauty of our church, and also the struggle to not give up every week when the children misbehave.

I want to show you scenes like what are in front of me right now - sunshine and green grass and frog hunting and playtime while Mom taps away on the keyboard - but tell you about the struggles to get here.  The crying and screaming as I said no to the screens that we've all become so addicted to.   The possible yelling from Mom as the chores still weren't done after the third time asking.   The Instagram picture won't tell you all of that.

I want to be transparent and authentic. 

And, dagnabbit.  That's so hard to do.  It's so much easier to just show you glimpses that look perfect.  The sunshine and smiles and cuddles.   And keep the frustration and tears to myself.

But that's not real life.   This moment of sunshine was fiercely fought for.   I'm on my own this week, as Mike is working, and I'm tired.  The four year old isn't sleeping well at all (every 45 minutes, she's up and calling for me), which is keeping all of us up.   A tired mom has said yes to the electronic babysitter way too many times to count this week, and the screen detox has been painful today.   Part of me doesn't even want to try, knowing that rain is coming and we'll probably be stuck inside more than usual this week.   But then, I look outside and see the sunshine and know that it's something that I need to do.  So I grit my teeth and turn it off, and listen to the crying.

I sit in the pew, every Sunday, after being up for 3 hours, working constantly, just to get kids bathed and fed and dressed and ready for church.   It's important that we go, and that we take pains to make it "different" from everywhere else we go.   No play clothes.   No snacks.   Trying to instill a love for Jesus and for the mass as I do so - trying hard to not make the process a negative and a hassle, even as I struggle with thinking that same thing in my own mind.   Trying to make Sundays filled with feasting and laughter and relaxation.  No chores, no schoolwork, fancy foods.    We don't have family close enough by to make it special with get-togethers, so I have to do it on my own.   All the while knowing that that hour (or hour and a half) in the pew is one of the hardest workouts I get all week.  

Fighting the temptation to throw my hands up in the air give up.

Fighting the temptation to beat myself up, and cry on the way home.

Trying to focus on the oldest children, and their love and respect for the mass.   Knowing that we will get there, someday, with the little ones, but we need to fight for it, every single week.

And yet, I want to share.  I want to share this so that maybe, a connection can be made.   Maybe we'll see each other in these words, and recognize ourselves.   Maybe knowing that we aren't alone will help us get up and face the next time it gets hard.

But it's scary to share the negative. I'm afraid of what you might think.  I'm afraid of what you might say.  My pride wants me to only share the good and build up a reputation of being that amazing Catholic mom and wife.

There's so much riding on my words at times.  We're discerning another adoption.   Is there a chance that something I've shared here, like my PPA struggle, might make that impossible?  Yep.  Is there a chance that someone will see my struggle with the littles' behavior at mass and say, "There's no way that she could handle any more kids?"  Yep.   There is.  

We're giving a talk at church on Wednesday night.  In front of a group made up of our community members, we'll talk about NFP and how it's played out in our lives.  The good and the bad.   The change in Mike's practice of medicine.  While it's a topic I love, I struggle with the self-doubt.   The self-loathing.   The self-talk that accuses me of being a fake, of not being a good witness to the very truth that I'm trying to talk about.

I want to be authentic.

I want to tell the truth.

I want to witness to the Truth, even when I don't live up to it.

But fear keeps me from stepping out.  Fear of being accused of being hypocritical.  Fear of failure.   Fear of letting people down.  Fear dictated by pride.  

Every blog post is an act of revealing a little bit more about me, my family, and my life.  With revelation comes risks - some big, some small, all tangible.   Eventually, they'll all resolve in some way:  a new friendship, a loss of a different friendship; words of affirmation and connection, words of division and pain; love and loss.  

Every day, I sit down to write.  I jot down words and phrases and ideas on a notepad, and work on developing them into essays and posts.   Some make it to this screen, some sit untouched for years.   Some lead to tears:  tears of joy and tears of pain.  Some lead to sighs of relief.   Others lead to checking my email every five minutes to see if anyone has responded or I've ruffled feathers somehow.

And through it all, one thing is constant:   the prayer that my witness is authentic and effective.   That I'll point to Him more than I point to me.

"We need credible witnesses. And when we have no witness, perhaps life goes well, we earn well, we have a profession, a good job, a family … but we are men and women who are 'parked' in life; that is, we do not go ahead, we do not move on. Like conformists: everything is a question of habit, a habit that keeps us tranquil, we have what we need, nothing is lacking, thank God... Those who do not take risks, do not move on. Take a risk on noble ideas, risk dirtying your hands, risk just like the Samaritan in the parable took a risk. When we are more or less calm in life, there is always the temptation of paralysis. … Go towards problems, come out of yourself and take risks."

 And the coffee.

The coffee is constant, too.

TGIF

Yeppers.  It's finally Friday.  And can I just say that I have the best children ever?   Friday is our "rest" day - the day where we don't usually have anything planned.  I thought we might have something to go to tonight, but the child who was contemplating auditioning for a show decided that he didn't really want to, so it got taken off of the schedule.  I wasn't super disappointed in that - we'd just recently added back in music lessons after taking a few months off after our move, and I am trying hard to find a solid balance between "must do" and "like to do".   But, anyways, why do I have the best children ever?   

Because this:

At the suggestion of my oldest Circus clown, I am sitting in the sun at Starbucks, enjoying a chance to write a quick blog post and drink a cup of coffee while it was hot.   We got back into town after 5 days away and went immediately into a call shift for Mike (which means he's gone for a whole week), so I've been trying to get back into the grove of a school week, new gymnastics practice schedules, chores, and take care of myself.   I very much needed an hour or so to myself with no interruptions.   So, yeah, my children rock.   

How about a quick run down of the things that have been swirling through my mind over the last week, but I've been unable to develop into individual blog posts because, well, there just hasn't been a good chance to?   Sound good?   Great!  Let's go!

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1.  First up - Katie over at Kitchen Stewardship has graciously asked the Circus to write up a blog on what living with a child who has Down syndrome is like and what we've learned from it.   Never one to turn down a chance to teach people about our crazy life with Mr T, I said yes!  Check it out here!

2.  Next up....our trip.   We were in Grand Rapids, MI, for the USA Weightlifting National Championships.   Overall, it was a great experience.  The kids had a blast, and it was really cool to see something at a national level - they had kids in their groups from all over the country.   It was a nice weekend at a nice hotel, and Mike's parents even managed to come down and join us for it.    We met up with friends from my online moms' group, and just really enjoyed ourselves.   The only struggle I had was with a comment made to Mr G as he was weighing in for his competition (they are split into weight categories to compete).  He was 0.2 kg too heavy for one category (which we knew and had already registered him for the next one up), and the official who was manning the scale joked that "You should have just skipped dinner last night so you could make weight!".   I struggle with this, big time, and it honestly makes me worry about letting them continue lifting and competing.   I know that weight is such a big deal at these things, and I don't want them to develop an unhealthy relationship with food because of it.   At the same time, they're really enjoying themselves, so I don't want to tell them that they can't continue, too.   It's a messy place to parent from.   Luckily, I'm pretty sure that all of us adults in their lives are on the same page with it, and while it might hurt them down the road to not play those games, I think that's a risk we're all willing to take.   I don't want either of the clowns to see skipping meals as a beneficial strategy for competition.  

3.  Now that we're back, we're home for about a month before we hit the road again on another adventure.  Soooo...we're still doing school.   I don't really mind (but I think the kids do).  I prefer to keep a rhythm at our house, instead of going into summer chaos.  And I hate doing review work at the beginning of the year.  I'd much rather skip those review lessons and just keep chugging along.  Our solution is to take the last 8 weeks of school or so, and do 1 week's worth of work over a 2 week time period, starting in May.   That gives us May - September of easy weeks so that we still have a lot of time to explore and have fun, but if I need routine, we can do routine.  (it also gives us something to do in the car and on rainy summer days).   I appreciate that the requirements are different in the state we live in now vs the one we moved from, because I don't feel the need to fudge our "start/end" dates like I did there.  Year-round schooling is what fits us, and it's much easier to do here.   

Scared of my strength workout

4.  As some of you know from FB, I started working with an exercise coach a little over a week ago.  I've got almost two weeks' worth of workouts under my belt down, and I'm really enjoying it.  I don't see super huge progress yet (but I didn't expect to) in the way of pictures or measurements, but I *do* see huge progress in my ability.   Each workout gets a little bit easier and I get a little bit stronger.   I definitely recommend checking something like an exercise coach out if you feel like you're in a rut.   I can send you the info if you're interested!

5.  In a little over a month, we'll be heading out again for a long weekend - first to see Lion King (the broadway show) as a Christmas gift to my in laws, and then to go to Cedar Point with the kids.  It's been 18ish years since I've been there - what do I need to know?   The big boys, especially, are chomping at the bit to go - they *CANNOT WAIT* to go explore the rollercoasters.  The park is conveniently located at almost exactly halfway between where we used to live and where we live now, so we're meeting the older boys' three best friends and their families at the park.   I think the kiddos are just as excited about that time with their friends as they are the roller coasters!   For those of you who are CP experts, what is there to do with littler ones?  What should I know?  TIA!

6.  We got our first box from our CSA this week (CSA = community supported agriculture).  I splurged for the bigger box because there are so many of us at the Circus, but HOLY SMOKES.   It was a big rubbermaid tote, FULL, of goodies.   I have so many leafy greens at my house, it's a good thing I'm not on warfarin.  haha.  Kohlrabi, chard, beets, radishes, collard greens, baby Russian kale, regular kale, spinach, arugula, lettuce mix, butter lettuce, and three heads of romaine.   And a basil plant.  Just to name a few.   Send me your favorite recipes for any of those!!  I don't want to waste anything.  :).  And I have a feeling that I'm going to need a good list of recipes for the future - if this is just the first week, I can't imagine what the height of harvest season will be like!!

7.  This one is percolating in my head for a further blog post, but I've been thinking a lot about one of the reactions/comments I often get when sharing weight loss or anything like that.  I get told that I "look so much younger!" or am "aging in reverse!"  While part of that is simply just the fact that I do have the ability to take care of myself right now and do things like get my hair cut or wash my face, I've been surprised by how many people have mentioned it.   I do definitely appreciate it - I'm not getting any younger, and while I've never been one to really focus on looks and make up and clothes and stuff like that, I'm finding myself wishing that I'd at least done a better job taking care of my skin.     I guess I should have paid more attention to things like the sun when I was younger.  It has made me think a lot about how we all seem to want to fight the getting older process - one quick walk through the health and beauty section of target shows us the bajillion creams and washes and potions for looking younger.   That doesn't even take into account the tons of MLM options out there.   We just all want to not show our age, for some reason.  I won't lie, when I get that compliment, I do feel better about myself, even as I remember telling people that I didn't want to stress about aging, because it happens to everyone.... It's a weird thing to experience.  I like the comments, which makes me want to keep them coming, which makes me want to research things to reverse my sun spots or firm up those wrinkles around my mouth and eyes....but I also don't want to fight the inevitable, you know?   I don't want to chase after this fountain of youth, even as I get closer and closer to my 40s, and start to realize that whether I like it or not, I'm not immortal.  It's a lot to think about, what's behind those comments.   Our desire for everlasting youth.   What are your thoughts?

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Alright, I've rambled long enough, and I should probably head back home.  The lawn won't mow itself, and while dinner is up to the kiddos tonight (it's just homemade pizza, so totally something they can all do!), I need to be home to supervise the oven being used.   

Have a great weekend, y'all.  If Miss R actually SLEEPS for me one of these nights, I'll actually write up more than a quick takes blog post!   There's lots to talk about!