Laney Bugs Turns ONE!

Elena’s first birthday brought more tears than laughter for this mother. Much like the day of her birth one year ago, there was no time for fanfare. There was simply a red and white checkered ladybug dress and cupcakes to match.  A small homage in honor of the only “bug” in the world I love; our “Laney Bug.”

Her daddy and I knew the moment she was born that regardless of if there will be any more children for our family or not, she will always be “the baby.”

When she entered the world, things were a little dark for our family. Daddy was on the computer writing his thesis right up until mama was ready to push. We didn’t know where we would live, when daddy would graduate or if there would be a job for him.

“Every baby is born with a loaf of bread under their arm” the old saying goes, and our Laney was no exception. Her birth was the first in a domino effect of things falling into place for our family.

Over the first year of her life, she has gifted me with a new motherhood role - that of mothering a child with health concerns. The experience has been quite different than being the wife of a man with health concerns. It has been hard, brought many tears and sleepless nights. It has also taught me to love in the moment and to examine the evil that breads in fear and anxiety. She has reminded me that no moment of life is too small to celebrate.

She’s only now able to eat and she isn’t able to support her weight on her little LDS legs (YET!)

She is a strong one though, and with her carries the brightest light. She is my beacon, and I am blessed and so very humbled to share that for this year at least, I am her brightest light. Yes, we’re got a mama’s gal on our hands, and I am delighted. 

Her presence in our home over the past year has been a conduit of only good and holy things. I’ve fallen deeper in love with her daddy and her sisters as I witness what is good in them spark alive with love for her, the smallest member of this family.

Her eyes are bright and reflective. Her laugh is reserved only for when it has true meaning.  We prayed and prayed for her. It was suggested to us by several people during our discernment that we conceive her in a lab instead of in our marriage. The LDS gene could have been taken out, and she could have been made a he – since we don’t have one of those around here.

How blessed we’ve been by deciding to trust that our family would be given what was perfect for us. We were given another girl, one that does have LDS. And we smile with the knowledge that we were given God’s perfection.


One day just wasn’t enough to celebrate the perfect gift that is you, Laney Bug. There wasn’t a party, but there were tears of happiness, thankfulness and mourning of the passage of time – a reminder that we can’t control the life God has created for us. There were those lady bug cupcakes, and that little red and white checkered lady bug dress which you wore for three days. Daddy washed it twice because mama couldn’t bear to take you out of it, or for the birthday weekend to end too soon.

My dreams for you are big, sweat Laney Bug. You’ve taught me so much over this past year. I know someday you’ll be called to touch others in a big way, so for now I’ll snuggle you and save you for our little family here.  On this birthday you want only to be held and snuggled and to blow raspberries on your sisters’ bellies. 

On this birthday we celebrate your good health, your gentle temperament and the possibility your life holds. 

Happy first birthday, Laney Bug!

Take Cover! Christmas Bells are Ringin’

The only people who think about Christmas in October are St. Nicholas, people who work in retail and sprinkle Halloween in one aisle and Christmas in the next and, of course, moms.

Although fall is by far my favorite season, a tiny bit of my autumn joy has been stolen since I got married and had kids. My fall to-do list has multiplied since becoming a mom. “Check out new fall TV line-ups” has now been replaced with less “fun” chores.

These tasks are dreaded all year by most moms I know. They include:

The “whose family are we going to for what holiday so everyone we’re related to can be happy and we can be miserable” traditional seasonal fight with your husband:

To be fair, we’ve got the cutest daughters in the world. Unfortunately, they are the only grandchildren in both mine and my husband’s family. So, we’re in high demand. And, of course, by ‘we’ I clearly mean the children. It’s very common for my husband and I to stay up all night packing everything we own so we can crisscross the state through a snow storm in the middle of the night with screaming children. We do this only to arrive at our destination and have our children snatched from our hands and swooned over while we collapse onto the couch without so much as a hello. Once we’re acknowledged it is with a well-meaning “You look awful. You really need to take better care of yourselves. You should get more rest.”

All this is done, of course, so that we can spend the night (if five hours counts as a night), wake up to share a meal with said family and then pack it all up, stuff it back into the mini-van and head out to a dinner hosted by the other side of the family—four hours away.

I have a friend who, in negotiations with her husband, traded every single major holiday of the year just so that Christmas could be spent in her hometown and she and her husband would never have to have this fight again. She should take that poker face to Vegas. I would’ve folded.

In order to please everyone and ensure you’ll still be married by Christmas, negotiations really need to start in the fall. Recently, our discussions on the matter took an interesting turn as we found we were each advocating for the other’s family to ‘get us.”

Shopping:

If there is ever a test of faith, it’s preparing for Christ’s birth in your heart while trying to find a parking spot at the mall. This is done to the soundtrack of car horns honking and people swearing at each other. Once in the mall, you can’t make a purchase without giving out your e-mail, phone number and zip code to the sales person, so you can be harassed and reminded of this experience all year long with ill-timed phone calls.

And there’s always those super uplifting human interest stories about humanity at its finest on TV. The one where people are willing to stampede each other for a $40 toy. Let’s not forget our favorite holiday dance: stretching that family budget to include buying gifts for people because they bought one for you/your kid last year and you were mortified they were not on your list and you were empty-handed.

The Christmas Card Picture:

Please tell me I’m not the only mother who turns into an insane beast of a woman when it comes time to take the photo for the family Christmas card. If I had to pick the worst four hours of my year, it would be taking the Christmas card picture. And, yes, it does take four hours. It is also the hardest workout I do all year, and for what? To capture the fact that my kids refuse to smile for a picture, someone is shoving their finger up their nose, the baby is crying and my make-up is dripping down my face with beads of sweat?

Between takes I scream, “Everyone shut their mouths, stop crying and smile or I’m canceling Christmas!” All of this just so we look like a big happy family in the photo card that has “Christmas blessings” scrolled across it. Last year, I attempted running this marathon while pregnant, and the whole thing actually put me into contractions. We’d already received cards form more successful friends who got their cards out the first week of December. Card after card made me wonder if all of our friends’ children had become catalog models or the face of dental offices.

If you look closely at our card from last year you can see me digging my fingernails into my husband’s leg because we were going on photo shoot hour three, and I was realizing that our photo wasn’t going to have the same fate as every other family we’d ever met. I was going off the edge. Nothing says “Merry Christmas” like a nervous breakdown over a photo card.

Enjoy the Season

This year I’m putting this on my list. Amid all of the stresses the holiday season brings to motherhood, our Church gifts us with the season of Advent. When everything around us defines Christmas by slapping a manufacturer’s label and price tag on it, our liturgical year builds in time for us to prepare our hearts for the real gift of Christmas, Jesus. We’re asked to quite our hearts and our mouths and prayerfully reflect on what this gift means to us.

We’ve decided that this year, no one is going to “get us” for Christmas Eve. You don’t have to travel to meet Baby Jesus. We’ll celebrate in our home and invite others to join us here. They can drive.

We’re not above bribes. We’ll use the kids to lure our families to our side of the state. We won’t tell them they’ll be sleeping on pink and purple twin sized beds in little girl rooms. They’ll also have to get up in the middle of the night to go out in the cold and create reindeer tracks in the snow to enhance the Christmas morning experience for our daughters.

Our daughters will receive three gifts from us. Because if it’s good enough for the baby Jesus, it’s good enough for us.

As for the Christmas card, maybe if I attempt to do a funny ‘out takes” type card we’ll finally get that Norman Rockwell family Christmas photo. It is baby Jesus’ birthday. If our Blessed Mother can ride a camel across her country while nine months pregnant, I think I can pack my kids into a mini-van and drive across the state to see family over the holiday season. I believe in Christmas miracles.

Now Thanksgiving, that’s another story. We’re still trying to work that one out……

I took a weekend vacation and never went back to work

After two years of hard work and 6 months of extreme family sacrifice, my husband recently defended his graduate thesis and received his master’s degree. The very first thing we did (even before the poor sleep deprived man took a nap) was book a mini family vacation for the following weekend.

Over the past few months “family time,” has gradually slipped further and further down the priority list. It was the season of our life and we feel confident the sacrifices we made will pay dividends for our family, but something had to be done.

Have you ever started a deep cleaning project and stopped to take a break only to find yourself mortified by the mess you’d made? Things tend to get worse before they get better.

We put all other pressing things we had let slide over the past month on hold and picked our family up off the floor.

We visited Wisconsin Dells, staying away from most of the tourist attractions and focusing on quality, low-key, family time. We took a horse-drawn ride into Lost Canyon, boarded a “choo-choo” train in North freedom, WI, and had a morning under the big-top at Circus World in Baraboo.

As with any family vacation with small children, there were casualties. Anna was kicked by a horse, there were 4 scrapped knees, mama and the baby got too much sun, the brakes on the van died and Tessa’s ear found the not-so-friendly end of an iron stool on the train.

Amidst the excitement and wonderful family time, the cloud of stress and indecision that had been hovering over us lifted and feelings on recent big changes in our life became more clear.

I recently accepted a position at a parish to work 25 hours a week coordinating Faith Formation. The parish is wonderful and the people working in Faith Formation are wonderful. At first instinct 25 hours per week sounded like a bit much for me. I work from home 10 hours a week, freelance write, and you know- mother 3 kids 3 and under. I was offered flexibility and I do have this master’s degree in theology collecting dust on my shelf so, I signed on the dotted line.

But something funny happened while we were on vacation, taking time to enjoy each other and not letting the stresses of everyday life live in the forefronts of our minds. Somewhere between the picnic lunches, relaxing in the hot-tub and spending family time together, for the first time in recent months prayer found a way to pierce through a barrier it couldn’t break through at home:

Joseph decided this is not what he wants for his family.

I’ve been blessed with a loyal and true man. In the almost five years we’ve been married we’ve had many decisions to make. Some of them were placed upon us and out of our control (medical emergencies), and some of them we brought on ourselves through the mistakes we’ve made. And, we’ve made a lot of mistakes.

It has taken my husband a while to figure out what he wants to do “when he grows up.” It’s been hard, having him figure this out as we had 3 kids in 3 years and while he also had 2 heart surgeries in that time. He’s worked really hard to finish his master’s degree and put himself in a position to advance his career.

The only thing he has been sure of in the five years we’ve been married is that he feels called to help me fulfill my call to write. He doesn’t want me to add something to my plate that does not promote that calling, and does not want me going back to work – taking time away from my callings of motherhood and writing.

How blessed I am with a husband who feels even more strongly about my callings than I do.

I will not be going back to working outside the home after all. I’ll be sticking with my work from home job and freelancing. Since we made this decision we have received several affirmations so we are going to trust in my husband’s plan for our family, and in God, that this plan is the best one for us.

My weekend vacation led to my not going back to work.

Vacations are important (even the Pope agrees). They give us a chance to step out of our everyday responsibilities. They give us the opportunity to see our life through a different lens. This time, for us, that lens was a bit clearer and we were able to identify the mismanagement of our priority list.

There are many ways to take a vacation or “time-out” in life. Sometimes they lead to bigger and better things than souvenirs and pictures for the scrapbook. Have you taken one recently?

The Working Mother

I’m a working mother. In my opinion, the words “mother” and “worker” are synonyms.

I don’t claim to understand the inner workings or mystery that is God. I believe the vastness of His love is too much for our mortal, fallen minds to grasp.

I am sure our worth is not found in a paycheck and that every life holds the same amount of value. That amount does not begin with a dollar sign.

This is not the mind set of our culture. Questions such as “what do you do?” and “what are you?” are quick to form on the lips of strangers and long lost friends. The answers sought are often job titles, and expected as definitions of a person instead of how a paycheck is earned.

When a mother is asked what she “does” there is often a qualifier placed in front of her answer, either by herself or the person she’s speaking to. “Oh, I’m JUST a mom,” or, “so you JUST stay home?”

Don’t cut yourself short, moms! There’s no “just” about this gig! Let’s all get together on one thing; in the language of motherhood, “just” should indeed be treated as a four letter word. Let’s not say it about ourselves or let others use it in reference to our vocation.

There are many calls to the same vocation. This is especially true of motherhood. Some are called to be the family breadwinner; some are called to be home fulltime, some half time. There are mothers who are called to bring new life into the world yearly during their season of fertility in the form of a new baby while others carry the cross of infertility. Some mothers are called to mother children of the world who have no mother.

As mother, the one thing we all have in common is that we are all called to live our lives breathing life into the world, be that into little souls trusted in our care or in the many other ways God calls that breath from us into the world. It is fruitful. It is good, and it is different in each mother.

I am currently called to be a work at home mother. Working from home is stressful, but worth it for our family. I started working from home for a family centered company when our second daughter was two months old. The opportunity was a God send for me.

Joseph and I had just had two daughters in one year and realized we needed an additional source of income. Over these two years my commitment has varied. My role and time commitment has nicely settled into about 15 hours a week.

My freelancing career has grown greatly over these past two years. On average, I am working on freelance assignments about10 hours a week, putting my total weekly working hours at about 25.

The addition of these freelance hours has helped me become a better worker and a better mother. When I found myself too overwhelmed with these commitments I took a step back and really discerned how I work.

I used to “work” all throughout the day. Making a phone call here and there, checking my e-mail every hour and answering e-mails as they came in. At the end of the day I had really only “worked” maybe an hour and a half. Yet, I felt like I was working all day every day and that the TV was babysitting my children.

My husband and I decided this was not working for our family and after much discernment, we decided that although I am still called to be a work at home mother, how I went about it needed to change. With my freelancing growing we decided it was time to make room in our lives for me to have some solid and defined working time.

For the past few months we have set aside larger blocks of time for me to work. Instead of always feeling like my mind was on work while my kids fit between those stresses, we’ve shifted our focus. I work less days but for longer periods of time. This has created less time stressing about work and more time actually working. It’s been a wonderful change for me mentally and it’s been great for my projects and my motherhood. I’ve been able to take on more freelance work and feel the publications I work on for my job have become better as a result.

The last trimester of this pregnancy has been one of great discernment for this work at home mother. I have a masters degree and the student loans that often accompany such a degree. In the past month many have asked me when I am going to “use” my degree.

My favorite question is, “when are you going to stop wasting your degree and go back to work?”

The question boils my blood. I do work. I am a mother, and a working mother at that. Just because I don’t leave my house everyday does not mean I’m not working, that I’m wasting my education or that I am financially lazy.

A few doors were recently opened to me and there was the possibility of me going back to work, full or part time, outside of the home.

During the daytime hours I was able to talk myself into this. I thought of all the debt we could pay off, vacations we could take and stress that would be taken off our plate.

But, the night. The night was another story.

For a few days I was unable to sleep and didn’t know why. Then I started having panic attacks. As perfect as the plan sounded, I am not called to it. I am called to be doing what I’m doing. I am home with my kids AND I work. The way our family pieces that all together is unconventional, but it works for us.

I feel so blessed to be home with my girls, doing a job I really like, working with people who share the same values as we do and building my writing career right along side my family. We are willing to sacrifice to live in the way we feel called. Just as mothers who work full time outside of the home are willing to sacrifice things to fill the role they are called to as a mother. Same vocation: different and equal call.

Like many other things in life, motherhood seldom goes exactly as expected. I learned this lesson in my first days as a mother when I was unable to breastfeed. I was heartbroken. I had convinced myself that to be a good mother one MUST breastfeed. God did not create that opportunity for me. Instead, His plan was much greater. His plan was Irish twins for us. This heartbreak turned into the blessing we call Anna Clare.

As I write this, I am very pregnant. My mother has come for a few days to help take care of the girls and clean my house so I may rest and get ahead on my projects and job to prepare for the birth of our third daughter. On this very day we are both answering the call to motherhood. My mother on her hands and knees scrubbing floors for her daughter and I in a chair, resting so that the daughter in my womb may grow strong and ready to enter the world. Very different kinds of work, but work none the less.

Truth is, there is as many definitions of a good mother as there are mothers. We need not compare our situations and gifts to one another. Motherhood is not a competition. There need not be winners and losers. As mothers we love children, and therefore want all mothers to be winners.

We’re all working mothers. We are exactly the mothers our children need and we fulfill this call in many different ways.

Motherhood, in all its many forms is a high call and a lot of WORK. No ifs, ands, buts or “justs” about it!

On the Day I Peed My Pants at Perkins.

Yes, you read that correctly. Today will always be known as the day I peed my pants, badly, in public.

Earlier this week I saw the perinatologist and although everything is wonderful, my blood pressure is being a bit wonky and he upped my meds, again. My medication had just been increased two weeks ago, but my body didn’t seem to be responding.

It was actually my favorite appointment of this pregnancy as I had an ultrasound and was able to bring Tessa along to share in the growing excitement of the newest little girl joining our family. Tessa did such an amazing job sitting still and was a very willing participant in my exam. Her loving and intuitive nature took over and she reached out for my hand, leaned over to give me kisses and rubbed my legs and belly as the ultrasound was taking place. It was an amazing moment in motherhood for me. I was witnessing the kicks and hiccups of my youngest child growing strong within me as I witnessed my oldest daughter’s gifts bloom alongside our family. It was one of my favorite days of all time.

I have been sleeping a lot this week and chalked it up to the third trimmest getting the best of me. Nothing to complain about – I have an amazing husband who truly enjoys spending time with his children and allowing mama to rest. This morning I was up early and since we needed to run a lot of errands I asked Joseph if we could take the family out for pancakes. He agreed so we all got dressed, I took my medication and out the door we went.

The second the meal I’d been craving for a week was placed in front of me I knew there was something wrong. I had no interest in the omelet that has actually made appearances in my dreams over the last week. I became dizzy, starting seeing spots and knew I was going to be sick. As I stood up to make my way to the bathroom a strange feeling came over me and I understood I had no control over my own body. I’ve been sick before, but never felt an imposter in my own skin. And then it happened. On my way to the bathroom I peed my pants. I’m not talking the “little something when I laugh some moms get after having a baby or two” type of accident. I’m talking full on “Kindergarten teacher calls your parents to bring you new clothes” type of deal.

I made it to the bathroom where I became sick and realized I was shivering and the coldest I have ever been in my entire life. I knew there was something wrong.

A visit to my doctor confirmed that the medication had dropped my blood pressure way too low way too fast. I was admitted to the hospital and spent the afternoon in the hospital getting some fluids and some drugs to bring my blood pressure back up.

I am home and feeling fine, although I can’t shake the extreme cold feeling. When I was released from the hospital my blood pressure was back up to 113/65 which is still extremely low for me, but a lot better than it was earlier in the day.

It’s only been 12 hours and I am already laughing hysterically at myself – filing this day right at the top of my long list of embarrassing Holly moments right up there with breaking my leg on the dance floor at my own wedding.

I really would do anything for these little girls. There is nothing in the world that can compare to watching Tessa want to care for me as I lie on a bed and get an ultrasound, or hear Anna ask me to lift my shirt so she can give the baby a kiss. There is a sweat baby girl growing strong in “mama’s belly” who had a hard day alongside her mama, feeling lethargic because that is how mama was feeling, but who remembered to kick once the IVs were going to remind me she was starting to feel better as well.

Motherhood is hard. It’s hard because it’s amazing. I’ll do anything for the joys motherhood brings me, even if it means standing in a crowded restaurant as I pee my pants.

Baby "L" (Which may or may not be a little hint at her name!)

On Motherhood

Recently my attention has been drawn (in some pleasant and not so pleasant ways) to the differences between myself and the women I call my “peers.”

I’ve been drawn to reflect on my lifestyle due in most part to the extreme reactions I’ve received from friends recently. A few have e-mailed with questions of how I do so much in addition to being a mama. Some seeking advice and some sending notes of thanksgiving – filled with hope that they too may soon be busy mamas. I’ve also disappointed a few friends who seem dissatisfied with how much of myself (and my time) I can commit to them.

One of my favorite Catholic blogger mamas, Elizabeth Foss has a beautiful post about the type of women/wife/mother she is appearing on her blog this evening. Although we are indeed quite different (she’s a seasoned mama with 9 children), I see myself in the sentiment she’s expressing.

Our family calendar speaks volumes to who I am as a women and a mama. I refuse to overbook or fill up our days. More than 3 obligations in one week (even social ones) might as well be a prison sentence to me. I’m an introvert, and so is my husband. We parent as introverts. We’re not signed up for Gymboree, playdates and storytimes at the library. Of course social and educational activities are important and we do make room for them, but I am very selective. When we do something social, it usually takes us an entire day to recuperate – so I build that time into our lives.

We are very close with a family of extraverts and this summer we spent the 4th of July with them. The kids played outside, we took them to the park, grilled out, did some sparklers in the driveway and then drove to see the town’s fireworks later that evening. It was a full day of fun followed by a sleepover. The next day I felt like I’d been hit by a bus. My energy was gone and my kids wanted nothing more than to watch a DVD. My friend came out of her room with her 3 children dressed in another patriotic outfit and they started packing up to go to the parade. A parade! It was 9:00am! Thankfully my friend knows how I operate and I didn’t need to think of an excuse not to go. They headed out and my family stayed in their home, napping and relaxing. Sometimes I wish we could go go go and I know we miss out on some wonderful things, but it doesn’t make us happy. My friend needs those types of things (and so do her children) to keep their family running smoothly and to keep everyone happy. For us, we aren’t loving to one another when we are living that way, so for us I know I am doing what is best.

We recharge alone and at home. For myself, and for my family, I protect this recharging time like a mama bear. I don’t feel an obligation to return phone calls and e-mails in a timely manner nor do I commit myself to weekly conversations with friends. This is not, in any way, a reflection of how I feel about those friends; I just simply love my family more. I know if I did answer every e-mail and return every phone message that our family would suffer, and I am not willing to do that. I know myself very well, faults and all.

I also approach motherhood a bit differently. Although I do love to cuddle with my girls, I can’t stand having someone “on” me all day long. Attachment parenting is beautiful, but God did not make me that type of mother. I don’t long for a tiny baby that needs their every need attended too and if there is a child in my bed, I’m not sleeping. That period of motherhood is a large sacrifice for me. I’m loving in other ways. My gifts are intuition and council. These gifts are better used with older children. For example, every single thing I do in the kitchen is narrated and then shown to Tessa. She is then given the opportunity to do it herself. So, every dinner and every batch of cookies takes twice as long as it does in another home. She doesn’t just get to “stir” to playcat her. She cracks the egg herself and dumps it in the bowl. If there are shells, she is then taught how to dig them out. This is how we operate every day in the kitchen. Everything takes twice as long and creates twice the mess, but at 2 and a half she could recite to me, step by step, how to make many of our standard meals and – chocolate chip cookies. This time is precious to me and I give up other things in order to have it.

She also comes to me with things she would like to talk about. She knows she is not going to get a water downed answer. We have very real conversations and I commit a lot of time to these real conversations. We are strong and consistent in our discipline and following a consequence, there is a loving conversation because I want to understand why a wrong choice was made and help them to understand why their choice was wrong. So, a simple fight between 2 little girls can turn into an hour long event in our home, but in the end everyone not only understands each other, but everyone feels loved. I do not answer my phone during these times.

I am also a work at home mama. I actually really love my job. I don’t care for the amount of work I have. But, I have to say, even if we were extremely independently wealthy I still think I would continue this job (with slashed hours, of course). Not only do I put in hours with my job, I am also a freelance writer. This past year has been a good one for me writing wise and we now count on a few hundred dollars of our monthly income from my freelancing. This is a personal choice that was very hard for me to make. It does cut into my family time and it certainly has affected how much time I have for friends and social activities. However, after much personal prayer by me and my husband, we feel I am called to pursue this dream. It is not one I talk about often, but one I must begin acknowledging as it is affecting my life and the amount of time I can give outside of my family.

To those who wonder how I do all that I do, there are sacrifices. Chances are I am not nearly as social as you are and my house is probably not as clean as yours! We are creative spirits over here and sometimes projects and ideas pick us up and carry us away leaving our laundry pile high and our fridge empty. But, that is who we are, and I will not apologize for it because I love it. One week we’ll learn to sew, the next we’ll be painting. Some nights I’ll stay up all night long because inspiration has struck and if that means the girls stay in diapers the whole next day because mama is resting on the couch – then so be it!

The best we can do for our children, in my opinion, is to embrace who God made us to be and show them it’s ok to do the same. I laugh because in my life I have always been very close with people who would call themselves “type A.” I think there is something about the structured and OCD type personality that must be amused or intrigued by a person like myself. I have had wonderful relationships with many “type As” in my life. However, they seem to really love me for a time and then in the end, I wind up driving them crazy!

Truth is, the world needs us all! God has designed and made each one of us beautifully to reflect Him in different ways. We have so much we can learn from one another. God knows that. I have proof. I’m almost sure my first born is a “Type A” herself. She reminds us to put things away in the fridge and turn off lights when we leave a room.


When she was asked to help pick up today she responded, “Ok, mama! Who’s coming over?” No one, for the record!


She keeps us in check and we remind her that mistakes are ok and sometimes it’s fun to get messy.


What kind of women/mother are you? Are your days structured or is yesterday’s oatmeal still on your kitchen table?

Steppin' Out With My Lady

Steppin’ Out With My Lady

I’ve got a bad case of the Mondays, friends. You know the days when the world feels hopeless and you can’t imagine anyone in the world could have a longer “to do” list then yourself? Yup, that is the scary place I am in today.

No need to worry, I have a fairly healthy emotional intelligence and although I am a moody melancholic – at least I know it and know how to deal with myself! Today, the world is swallowing me up. But tomorrow, well tomorrow will be grand. I’m convinced.

On days like these, I need to throw up the white flag and surrender the day to the thoughts of stress, “what ifs” and “you’re not good enoughs”. Good thing I have a lovely distraction!

Miss Anna Clare had a huge weekend of milestones. She learned to clap and say “YEAH” over, and over, and over again. She saw her sister climb a staircase and decided to follow, figuring out how to climb as she went. And, the most impressive event of the weekend: first steps were taken on an early Saturday morning. My poor husband. He usually gets up with the children in the early morning. On this day he had been sent back to bed by yours truly. I thought I would give him a day off. In doing so, I got to witness her goofy grin as she took her first steps toward me. I’m sad Joseph missed it. He missed Tessa’s first steps as well. So, while he slept, I sat with my grandma and watched Anna Clare take her first steps.

So, the world can have its problems and my “to do” list can grow by a mile for all I care. I’m putting it aside, and getting down on the floor to help Anna practice her new found talent!

And now I must thank you and take my leave. Anna just pulled the garbage can on top of herself and it sounds like a mess is screaming my name. Is it bed time yet?

Too “Busy” For Joy? Not In Our Home!

How many times have we heard, “We’re too busy” in response to a question involving something “fun?” I’ve heard it often form others, and on occasion, as it escapes my own lips. It saddens me how “busy” we are has almost become a mark of social distinction. When did it become fashionable to be so overbooked, stressed out and sleep deprived?

Do our children really need to be shuffled here and there, to activity after activity until they don’t even know how to enjoy down time? What does this way of life do to the development of their little souls? I don’t have children old enough to be involved in activities and sports - yet. I hear so much about this way of life from other mom’s, I can’t help but wonder how I will deal with it when my time comes.

My husband and I worry that too many choices can be oppressing. If one is so busy doing a million different things, how can they really discern and develop the gifts God has given them? As parents, would it be horrible of us to allow our children to try many different things, and then pull them out of the things they aren’t gifted in? This is by no means a criticism of mothers who try to do it all. We all do the very best we can, and that means different things for different families.

Unfortunately, this over booked way of life is tempting to those living the vocation of motherhood. Of course there is always something to be cleaned, made, fixed, organized or packed. It’s the nature of running a living household blessed with little souls. It’s not uncommon to hear women singing the praises of another mother and using phrasing like, “she never sits down, she’s always doing something!” “I WISH I could get as much done as her!” What concerns me is not the state of the bathrooms in the homes of these woman, (as I am sure they are immaculate and ready for unexpected company) but the spiritual lives of the women who are raising our future Church. Time for contemplation and the ability to do so is a skill that improves over time. Time, that one little word defines so much of our lives.

Why are we creating all this busyness? Isn’t the point of working, cleaning, making meals in the kitchen and doing the laundry all in order to have our needs met so we can be able to……..to what? I want to fill in that blank with JOY! We are so busy doing all of these things in life so that we can get them done and enjoy….life! Our blessings and lessons can be found in the work, and the play that NEEDS to follow.

I’ve been praying to find the joy in the things that stress me out. Since I am a firm believer in full disclosure for the sake of relating, here goes:

This week I have a full plate of things to do for work. Although I actually really enjoy my job, there is one aspect of it that makes me uncomfortable. After I write articles on people, I have to give them a title to go on the cover of the newsletter. Generally, these titles need to be really friendly and inviting. Since I’m a bit of a sarcastic person, I call it “campy,” or “hokey.” I’m just not in tune with “happy, happy” things. I have no gage for knowing if something is good or lame, because I think everything is lame.

For this reason, my husband has a love/hate relationship with watching TV commercials with me. ‘DUMB,” “LAME,” and, “PaaaaLEASE!” are words often shouted off the couch - where I sit in my creatively elitist perch. So, in order for me to allow myself to write these types of things on paper without cringing, I enlist the help of my husband each month. Unfortunately, he thinks everything is lame too, so it has become a really fun game for us. This is where JOY entered our incredibly busy weekend. Yes, we would both have rather been sleeping at 1am last night as I was still working. But, instead of me complaining because I have so much to do, or my husband whining about having to take care of the baby so I could get my work done, we played “name that article,” and laughed. God, how we laughed! After going waaaaay too far into cornyville and giggling about what people would think, we chose:

“Does Your Lawn Need a Check Up? Matt’s On Call!”

For an article about a college kid who does landscaping in order to pay for his dream of going to medical school. Get it? I know, we think we're super clever. I actually still think it’s lame, but my husband assured me it’s, “the right amount of lame.” It was a blessing to share this time together. Looking back, we would have missed it if I would not have been working. And, we found the joy in the situation while our living room looked like this:


I know, it’s bad, you can judge if you want, but we’ve got joy in our hearts over here!


Because I knew my husband would be dog tired today from our late night last night, and because I am slightly too tired to chase around my 18 month old, I decided to pack it up and bring joy to daddy’s office this morning. I put the girls in the van, hit the drive through for a dollar large pop to help my hubby get through the day, and surprised Joseph at work! He was thrilled to see us- and thankful for the gift of caffeine! Another joyful moment derived from what we could have decided was a stressful situation.

I pray for the ability to turn all of my stress over to God, leaving more room for Joy to move on in! I pray for joy in your lives as well.

Daddy, at work, with his baby girls. Who won't leave the house a mess in order to surprise their hubby and put this look on his face!

The Joys of Family Life

The Joys of Family Life

This week in book club, the focus of the week was joy. How we fulfill the vocation of wife and mother by creating, encouraging and accepting joy into our homes sounds simple enough. But, first I’ll load the dishwasher, change the baby, pay the bills, and get dinner going. Before this mama knows it, bedtime routine begins and joy gets pushed off until tomorrow.

I’ve always been, for the most part, a very joyous person. “Bubbly” was the word teachers used to describe me in parent-teacher conferences when I was young. Although I’m sure this was a nice way of telling my parents I may talk too much, I’ve always taken it as a compliment. I fell blessed to be able to find the joy in difficult and stressful situations. Being able to see the value of suffering has been a true blessing in my life. This clearly does not make me some contemplative, spiritual guru—no, not by any means. Just as any other spiritual gift given, I often fall short on my use of it. My husband and I have even discussed our fear that we only know how to develop ourselves spiritually, as individuals and as a couple, in times of crisis. And, in our short marriage we have had our fair share of times of crisis. Thankfully, we have grown tremendously as man and wife- and as Catholics- during these times. We’ve grown so accustomed to this way of life, we’ve almost become too comfortable with the cross we carry.

A family can’t live in emergency mode forever. People dealing with illness who insist on keeping their everyday lives in tack always amaze me. I’ve often heard about people who don’t want to die in a hospital, they want to go home and be present in their everyday lives, even as they die. As hospice sets up camp in the home, people still go to school, go to work, laugh, play games and watch TV.

I’m searching for that everyday joy. We finally feel as though we have a grasp on some sort of “normal” for our family. Our prayer is that we can learn how to accept it, and find joy and spiritual renewal in the everyday happenings of our home. We truly want to make this our domestic Church. Maybe, it will begin with joy!

It sounds so dramatic to me, to have to work on joy. Earlier this week, as I discussed joy with the wonderfully faith-filled women in book club, it was quoted that if you do not teach your children to find joy with you in your home, they will go out into the world looking for it elsewhere. This thought sent shivers down my spine. People do horribly damaging things to themselves and others- all in the efforts of filling the hole in their lives they don’t recognize as longing for God. This is not what I want for my children. I don’t want them to yearn for joy, I want them to live in the Lord! I want simple, everyday, joys to be enough for them because they know they will find the ultimate joy when they return home to us in this life, and home to God in the end.

Our hearts long for peace. Ultimately, we find that in God’s Kingdom after our earthy lives are finished. But, until then, we yearn to be close to Him. This is why we love, we dream, we work. There is joy in the everyday tasks of living. The mere possibility of knowing and understanding, just for a moment, what its all about. These moments are found in the smiling faces of our children, squeaky clean, or muddy messes, that is where the joy lies. Just to get through the tasks of everyday life I struggle with, I often need to remember our holy family. There have been times when cleaning the kitchen seemed so dooming I couldn’t even get myself to do it after telling myself, “I’m doing this for my husband, I’m doing this for my kids.” Nope, on a few occasions, I’ve cleaned the kitchen only because Mary did it for the baby Jesus and so I can do it for him too!

I pray I will become better at weaving the little joys into our lives. I vow to play in the grass (sans shoes, my favorite way!) even when the house is a mess. I want to be able to see myself through the eyes of my children and not be ashamed. I want them to remember mama’s smiles, not a twisted face of worry and stress. Tessa inadvertently showed me this face, through her eyes, this week after she got a hold of my camera and took a picture as I was yelling, “no, no, no!” It is certainly not what I had expected. But, in an effort to find the joy in it, I will share it here:



Attractive aren't I? Yeah, that's what I thought! With this lovely face I announce to you that starting today, it is Joy Week here at Falling Upward! I encourage you to reflect upon and pray for joy in the everyday lives of you and your family. I also invite you to post your own blog or share some of them here at FALLING UPWARD. Make sure to link back here to Joy Week, as joy is something to be shared--or so some Christmas songs will tell us......

Thumps & Bumps in the Middle of the Night

Thumps & Bumps in the Middle of the Night.

Anna, our four-month-old, seems adamantly apposed to sleeping, or being quite, at night—ok, EVER! Like her mama, she’s a night owl. The crying has been more than my husband and I can handle at times. It’s by God’s grace we haven’t hit these moments of frustration and despair at the same time. I guess this is the purpose of a marriage, to lead each other in holiness—even if that means once and a while one spouse must pull the other along, kicking and screaming.

Tessa, on the other had, has been a sleeper from day one. I fondly recall the day after she was born. At one point during that day, I had eleven visitors in my hospital room. They stayed for five hours. She was passed from person to person. As we all tried our hand at waking her to eat, one person after another told us there was no way “this will last.” Well, it did last, she was sleeping through the night at six weeks and we’ve never looked back—until this week.

Sometimes, when one is well behaved, they get overlooked. Currently this is a problem in our home. Now, something tells me with the sass Miss Tessa has—this may be the one and only time she is on this end of a story-but here we are non the less! We moved our wonderful sleeper to a big girl bed last month. We had high hopes Anna would soon be moving to the crib. We made a family trip out of it and came home with a bed rail, purple sheets and a Dora bedspread. We kept Tessa up until midnight and put her in her new bed, too dog-tired to care where she was. From that night on, she has slept in her bed, naps and all- until last night.

It was 1am and I was still awake. It would make me a better mom if I was up with Anna, or I was praying or paying the bills. But, I was up, watching shows on the DVR and enjoying some much needed alone time, at the cost of some much needed sleep. I heard the thump, the scream, and then the crying. I don’t remember getting up and running into her bedroom. I will never forget finding her there, on the floor, half under the bed.

Now, I know children fall and bumps and bruises are to be expected. I assure you I’m not one of those mothers who is a nervous Nelly and who flips out every time a little one takes a tumble. No, that’s not the type of mommy I am. I don’t even have that option, as we are a clumsy bunch over here. That being said, I will never forget the look on my daughter’s face that night. She was so scared and confused. When she heard me running into her room, she looked up at me with her gigantic eyes and I swear those eyes were blaming me for their tears. It was, by far, one of my worst moments as a mother.

I always seem to learn my lessons in the middle of the night. This mostly because I can’t sleep until I have analyzed and reflected on every waking moment of my life. But, this night I learned a late night lesson from my darling daughter. She’s too little for a big girl bed. Just because she’s a big sister, doesn’t mean she’s a big girl. I was so sad when I took her out of her crib and put her into her big girl bed. I was so sad about ME not being ready- I didn’t realized SHE wasn’t ready. I put her back into her crib( after Joseph was assured she did not have a brain bleedJ He worries) as I set her down I thanked God for her guardian angel-and for the gift of a just a few more fleeting moments with my “little girl,” who will stay in the crib a while longer. She's a bit too little for growing pains, and that makes me smile!