No Extraordinary Anniversary

This past weekend marked our fifth wedding anniversary.

Five years ago we married, and then canceled our honeymoon to Rome. Instead, our “honeymoon” was spent in the hospital. My husband had his first heart surgery a week into our marriage.

I wasn’t too fazed by the canceled honeymoon. There were bigger issues at hand, clearly. Plus, we’re dreamers. It’s how the Holy Spirit drew us together to begin with.

So, as young love goes, naive promises were made as we held hands in an ICU and glanced into our future to get through our rough present.

On our fifth anniversary there’d be a vacation, a ring upgrade, a new dress. Maybe even a little one to shuffle off to grandma and grandpa’s house before heading off to somewhere luxurious.

And here we are. Five years, a job loss, four moves, another heart surgery, three kids, a miscarriage, a graduate degree, a broken leg and two broken mini-vans later.

You may be surprised, but I’m not writing this from an island resort.

I woke up this morning to find two toddlers had crawled into our bed, and my husband had crawled out. He had stayed up late working, gotten up in the middle of the night with the baby, and was zonked out on the couch.

That’s romance, friends.

There’s defiantly not a vacation anywhere in our near future and I’m fairly certain my wedding ring is chipped. We’ll have to put that on the list of things to look into.

The real life version of our ocean-view five year anniversary was an afternoon in the backyard. The kids were in swimsuits and daddy was playing with the settings on the hose sprayer. Our daughters shrieked in delight and scurried back and forth between daddy and the fence. Chubby toddler toes on wet grass is close to perfection - until it’s time to come in the house.

I watched this weekend from the lawn chair as I fed the baby. I certainly wasn’t wearing a new dress. The shorts and tank top I had on were on their third day of wear, and covered in baby-spit up.

Thoughts of vacations were pushed from my mind as I returned to reality and added “make sure rug is out before letting the girls back inside” to my mental “to –do” list. I returned to my daydream and began fanaticizing about purchasing a washer and dryer. We’ll have to put that on the list of things to look into.

Anniversary gifts haven’t been exchanged yet – mostly because the checkbook hasn’t been balanced for the month and we don’t like to make extra purchases until we’ve got the month figured out. We’ll have to add the banking and budget to the list of things to do before Monday.

Once the little ones were hosed off, we headed in-doors to make heart cupcakes. Fingers were dipped, an egg shell was dug out of the garbage and licked and pink sprinkles tumbled across my newly-cleaned kitchen floors. The big girls decorated cupcakes and sang “happy birthday” to mama and daddy’s marriage.

The weekend was nothing extraordinary.

There are big decisions being made over here this weekend. There are career opportunities to be weighed, new schedules to be sorted out.

At first, the dreamer in me was slightly disappointed. But then I followed the dripping sound coming from the bathroom to find three pint sized ruffled swimsuits hanging from the showerhead to dry.

I recalled my dream of married life and motherhood is much older than my dream of a fancy five year anniversary trip.

I adjusted the bathmat to catch the wet droplets of a simple, joy-filled afternoon and returned to the sun-kissed cheeks of my “Irish twins” who were sitting cross-legged on my kitchen counter.

They both wore frosting-covered grins because to them, playing in the backyard with mama and daddy and eating cupcakes in the same day is living in a fantasy.

We canceled the babysitter we had lined up for an anniversary dinner out. We got news of a fire we’ll have to put out and my husband has too much work to do. An evening out this particular weekend would have led to no sleep for him and too much stress on the both of us this week. It was hard to do, and not ideal. There is far too much “working” around here. Something we’ll have to look into in the next five years.

I dreamt of going on a cruise for our ten-year as my husband and I spent the evening talking about a big problem that we’ll have to face this week.

I remind myself the only cruise I’d be going on in the near future is bound to have Mickey Mouse captioning the ship.

I guess we’ll bring that dream back to reality during the romantic budget meeting we’ll have tonight.

Everyone is peacefully sleeping now as I reflect on the anniversary weekend. My husband will get up early to work and the baby will wake to take her medicine soon. I’ll have to add refilling her prescriptions to the list of things to look into this week.

For the first time today the only sound in my home is the ticking of the clock. It reminds me although I’m slightly disappointed that time, finances and a full plate didn’t allow for the anniversary celebration I had planned, I’ll never wish these hard days away. In fact, I desperately grasp every stress-filled minute for fear they’re too quickly slipping away.

Maybe by our ten year anniversary we’ll be vacationing. Just because we didn’t get there in these five years doesn’t mean we won’t in the next. We’re dreamers after all.

Happy five-year anniversary, Joseph.

You are (in jest) “the love and demise of my life.” You truly do sanctify me.

Enjoy the little things, for one day you may look back and realize they were the big things." --Robert Brault

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?

Seven Quick Takes – The Return

1.

I didn’t fall off the face of the planet, although I feel like it some days. Our life took a 180 degree turn in a short time and we were just trying to stay afloat. My husband finished and defended his thesis after many, many, all nighters (as in, 3 weeks of less than 3 hours sleep a night) for all of us. I was so happy when he defended and was awarded his degree that I couldn’t stop crying. It was a long and very hard chapter for us in so many ways. I am thankful we made sacrifices for the future of our family – but oh so happy it is over. If we had to go back, I don’t know if we would do it again. Think twice about graduate school and 3 kids under 3. It’s hard. Really, really difficult.

2.

If all that wasn’t enough – we moved the same week he was finishing the thesis. Yes, we’ve moved! We said goodbye to apartment living (thank God) and are now in a lovely duplex with about twice the living space we had before. Several friends commented on how they didn’t know how I did it while we were living in our apartment and to be honest, it kind of bothered me. I didn’t know it wasn’t “good enough” until people started telling me it wasn’t good enough. However, now that we are in a space that actually works for our family, I am so happy I didn’t know what I was missing. I really don’t think I could have done it if I had known what I was missing. Life is much more manageable here for us all.

Moving/thesis month

3.

My husband turned 30! We have now both moved into our thirties and both events were - uneventful. My birthday feel while I was still pregnant with Elena and we were offered free babysitting by my family so we could go out. I was too tired and not feeling well and opted to go to bed at 8pm instead. Boy, did that make me feel old! Joseph’s birthday feel during the same week as the thesis and the big move. Our big girls were in my hometown with my mom so we could work/pack and he was on his 3rd all nighter in a row. There was no celebration. The next week when the big gals returned Tessa was adamant we “make” him a “surprise” party when he got home from work. It was the first time she really had her own idea about something we should do and brought it to me to ask for permission. She was so excited. We made a cake and the gals screamed SURPRISE when daddy came home and then grabbed his hands and lead him to his cake. The joy these girls got from making something for their daddy was birthday present enough for us both. Our thirties will be great!

Daddy's "party" otherwise known as dinner

4.

Baby Laney is doing well. She has had a few medical concerns come up. Sometimes she has trouble breathing. We’ve seen her specialist/cardiologist and he sent us onto an ENT. I was very impressed that he researched Loeys-Ditez before our appointment and really trust him. It is such a blessing when you find a doctor you can trust. We are now working on a project where we are trying to videotape her when she starts to have one of her episodes so we can e-mail it to the ENT. He also gave us some tips on how to help her when she is struggling by holding her in different positions. I’m confident it is just a small bump in the road and all will be fine.

feeding Elena before an apt. at the Children's Hospital

5.

I’m in the middle of another struggle in my never-ending discernment of working outside of the home. Why this issue haunts me I do not know. I’ll have more once I share first with those it impacts the most. I am reminded more and more through this struggle that I am so blessed by my work at home job. I love that job so much. It does stress me out here and there, but the pros FAR out-weigh the cons and I am so thankful for the job and the families/friends that have provided our family with the opportunity. I’ve been doing it for over two and a half year, which is the longest I have ever stayed at a job. That really says something.

6.

I can’t believe I am saying this, but I am really starting to think about home-schooling. WHAT? I have always said I love the idea of home-school but could never, ever do it. I also said that I wouldn’t shut the door, even though I knew God would not knock on that door. Well, you know that saying, “if you want to make God laugh, tell him your plans.” Sigh. I’ve been reading home-schooling books since I was pregnant with my first child with the understanding that just because I wasn’t going to be home-schooling that didn’t mean I wouldn’t be schooling my children at home. Parents are the first teachers of their children, no matter where they attend school. We’ve been doing research about schools and I just can’t find anything I like that doesn’t cost a ton of money. And, even the schools that cost a lot of money, then I feel like why pay money for something I can do myself? Lord, help me. And Lord help our families, whom I am sure will have some not-so-wonderful opinions. If I hear one more line about socialization I may scream. No decision has been made, not even close. I think we are down to Catholic school or home-schooling - or maybe even both, or different options for each child. Just something we are thinking about and thought I would put on my blog so I don’t have to tell people face-to-face. I’m chicken like that.

Such a happy girl

7.

That’s enough life changes for now, don’t you think? We’re finding a new normal that we really like over here. Part of that will be more committed and reserved blog time for me as well. I can’t wait. I’ve missed you all.

If you're thinking about having a baby - look at this picture. How can you not love looking at this every day?

Can’t Seem to Catch that Nesting Bug!

At 34 weeks pregnant I am now officially the biggest I have ever been in my life. I’m not ashamed of my giant classification. In both my previous pregnancies I have just kind of looked bigger. I never had that “basketball belly” and was really envious of women who were all belly.

Let me tell you, the grass is NOT always greener on the other side. Sometimes it’s soggy, and muddy, and difficult to walk in. I do have myself a basketball. I am all belly, lots and lots of belly. I can’t bend or see my feet. I “let” my 3 year old “help” me make dinner tonight because she thinks its fun to bend down and get the pots and pans out of the cupboards.

As I hopped up onto the scale at the doctor’s office this week the nice med tech lady put the little marker on the 150 lbs notch! Let me tell you, her finger couldn’t slide that thing allll the way to the other end fast enough! I laughed out loud at her.

“Umm, thanks, but you can go right ahead and switch that up to the 200 notch down there” I said.

She didn’t respond. Must be protocol.

She does have my chart in her hand, right? I thought to myself.

I spent my entire appointment wondering if medical professionals have a whole day of class in their programs about NOT offending women on the scale. Because really, there is no way any person in their right mind would take a look at me and put that notch on 150. I’m still laughing. Not only am I huge, but I am also 5’9. That lady was insane, or blind.

The whole thing reminded me of the time my husband had to be given a “mesh shirt” to wear. He was having a 24 test done on his heart and the mesh shirt was supposed to hold the wires and leads hooked up to his chest in place.

This mesh shirt was one size fits all -at the children’s hospital - he’s 6’6.

“Don’t worry, it’ll stretch,” the lady hooking him up to the test said.

The mesh tank top was a neon green sports bra on his broad frame. He looked like a cross dresser on his way to a rave.

Up until recently we have been thinking we may move before baby makes her grand entrance. Now that we know we will be living in our current location when she arrives, I need to get down to business. This week’s events on the scale and the need to enlist a 3 year old as my sous chef have me thinking I’m running out of time. For crying out loud, we made dinner on the floor tonight so mama could rest. We were boiling raviolis. I had to sit and rest in the middle of putting water into a pot and dumping in raviolis. I turned it into a counting game for Tessa because I’m a mama, and we need to turn our lazy moments into educational activities for our children to get through the day.

I better get going before I become immobile. This basketball belly is so large there is impending danger that being upright may just cause me to topple right over. There are young ones underfoot here, I can’t be toppling over. Not when my house is this messy. Someone could be injured.

There is one problem. I just haven’t gotten that nesting bug. I’ve been bitten by it before. It makes a woman a crazy cleaning machine. The only time in my life I have ever cleaned behind an appliance has been while pregnant. I don’t naturally think of those things. I’m a pile maker and a pick up so I can redecorate or rearrange the furniture kind of gal. I need to be bitten by the nesting bug, and fast.

All the baby clothes are still packed in bins in our garage and we haven’t even thought about if we will be setting up the crib or the pack and play in our bedroom. I did order a new bouncy seat offline. It came 2 weeks ago. The huge box it came in sat in our living room and served as Tessa and Anna’s “bus” until just the other day when my husband took it out with the recycling. As for the bouncy seat, I opened the box. It’s now sitting in our bedroom unassembled.

I thought I had maybe been bitten by the nesting bug this afternoon. But, now here I sit. “Cleaning” out my stack of magazines in the lay Z boy and watching Grey’s Anatomy. I am clipping the coupons and tearing out yummy looking recipes. And, I will collect the magazines into a bag when I am done and ask my husband to take them to recycling after we all trip over the pile for a few days. So, it counts. Right?

**Prayer Bubby: Wow! I really need you! Thanks for all your prayers and PLEASE keep them coming. Lots of big things to be thinking and praying about over here right now. Hoping to post about some of them soon, but for now, thank you and please don't stop!**

My Sous Chef

Why I’m NOT giving up anything for Lent.

Ok, don’t throw stones. Remember Lent is a time to grow in the love and peace of Christ.

I’ve spent a great amount of time praying and reflecting and what my Lenten sacrifices would be this year. In the process, I found even the exercise was not exciting me about a time for spiritual growth, but adding to my already large amount of anxiety about our current state in life.

This is not what the liturgical season is about. In the past I’ve attempted (with varying degrees of success) several difficult Lenten sacrifices and tasks. I never was one to give up sweats or something else I would simply count down the 40 days until I could partake in again. Instead, I have always seen the season as a time to attempt to change something about myself - be it a bad habit or an unhealthy mental reaction I’d fallen into regarding certain people or situations. A wise spiritual advisor had recommended giving up or adding something so difficult that only with the aid of God Himself I would have a chance of succeeding. Either way, when Christ arrives resurrected with Easter, I am marveling at the power of God in my life. I have either changed something about myself for good, or I have learned a valuable lesson about how fallen I am and how much I need Christ.

The truth is, this year, giving something up or adding something big is just too much for my already full plate. Our life is Lent right now. I’m not complaining. In fact the parallels between the Lenten season and our struggles right now are not lost on me. I am thankful my personal life is coinciding with the Liturgical year as over the last year the seasons of my life did not coincide with those of the Church and it left me feeling slightly separate from the community of believers.

Every possible life situation that could be up in the air right now for our family is. I know nothing about what our life will be in 2 months. The only thing I know is that we are having a baby. Joseph is working on his graduate thesis and we are hoping he will graduate the week after Easter. With his graduation comes the loss of his job (he works as a graduate assistant at the University), and thus the loss of our insurance. We had Joseph complete this master’s degree with the hopes of him getting a state/university job. That hope is currently lost/up in the air as we live in Wisconsin. If you don’t know what’s happening with the fighting over these issues in Wisconsin you must be living under a rock. Regardless of if we agree or not, the state is not currently hiring as its fate is up in the air.

Joseph is currently working so hard to finish his thesis and apply for jobs. I’ve put the purchase of anything and everything on hold in case there are months of unemployment. This means our van is still unfixed and I am going on 7 months of not having a vehicle. We also thought we would be moved by now as we thought we would know where he will be working and where we will be living. But that is up in the air as well and I am trying to make space in a 2 bedroom condo for a family of 5 because we will now be bringing home baby to what I call a “cracker box.”

Because of the insurance issue, Joseph will have his yearly heart appointments and our new baby will have her genetic tests the first week in May before our insurance runs out. I pray the baby comes in time and that Joseph’s health is holding strong, I can’t think of the alternatives – mentally or logistically.

These stresses have become a bit overwhelming for a really pregnant me. I know the emotions of pregnancy are to blame, but it’s become a lot to have on my plate. Joseph is really busy trying to finish school and take care of all of these things. The long winter, very small living space with no vehicle to go anywhere and the stress has gotten to me and I don’t think I’m my best self right now.

So, I won’t be giving anything up for Lent. Instead, I’ll try to best see the blessings in our life, look forward to the arrival of our third daughter and NOT let the anxiety and stress of everything else get to me as I have been allowing it to. So, my life is my Lent this year!

I do want to hold myself accountable, but also don’t want to be too hard on myself or deny my emotions. I am 32 weeks pregnant after all and the things on my plate are real concerns for our family. So, I’ll attempt to handle them in the most holy way I can and support Joseph is doing the same.

I do feel as though I may need a substitute for the fasting. Due to medical reasons for both of us, Joseph and I are not required nor could we uphold the fasting requirements of Lent. And, since our children are too young I don’t think I’ll focus on them in our home. Maybe I’ll attempt a cleaner kitchen. It is something I struggle with and food related.

This is the biggest Lent of my life; God has obviously set the stage for it to be. I’m not giving up a thing. I’ll just deal with life. Doing so with grace will be a huge success for me. And, it’s truly only possible with God at this point!

A blessed and peaceful Lent to you all!

PS – I joined the Lent Prayer Buddies this year! Prayer buddy, welcome! I’m so sorry you got me, you’ve got a lot of work cut out for you this Lent. Although I don’t know your name, please know I have already added you to my prayer list as well.


Clearly Anna Clare isn't worried. I need to take lesson from my soon to be middle child!



A Tale of Two Dresses

Betty Beguiles recently challenged her fellow bloggers to reflect on their wedding dresses. What the dress said about us then and what our thoughts on the dress say about who we are today. Personally, the questions posed are about much more than fashion.

What I wore, how I chose it and how I felt wearing it reflect so much on my expectations going into marriage, and ultimately how I feel about expectations (and fashion) today.

I was far from a “Bridezilla.” I was over the moon to be engaged and excited about the wedding, but I preferred a small affair. My husband- to- be and my parents wanted a larger wedding. I knew I wanted to get married in my hometown. We met in the Church in my hometown and I thought it greatly romantic to be married in the very building we met. Unfortunately, that was not to be.

When it came to my dress I had two requirements. The color had to be the darkest shade of white that could still be called white. Alabaster is too kind a work for how very white my complexion is. I also have a great amount of almost black hair. An odd combination I am aware. Therefore, white is not the most flattering color on me. An ivory or wine shade of white was necessary. I also wanted a halter style dress. I find this fit the most flattering on me and I’m not a huge fan of strapless dresses in Church.

What I thought would be my wedding dress

To my complete surprise, my mother and I found the perfect dress in the tiny boutique in my small hometown. It was dark ivory lace in the halter style with a long train. It was also more than double what I thought I would spend. I won’t share the price because I am shamed! My mom cried when I tried it on. We ordered it on the spot and she purchased it for me. The wedding was planned and deposits were made.

A few months into our engagement we found out Joseph needed his first heart surgery. All the wedding plans that seemed to be so important melted away with the “honeymoon” carefree stage of new love. There were many decisions to be made and prayers to be said. At the last minute we decided to move up our wedding and get married before the surgery. We decided on a Sunday to be married the next weekend.

There were strong reactions. Some of our loved ones found the circumstances romantic and a testament to our commitment to each other and the sacrament of marriage. We believe strongly in the graces of the sacrament and knew we would need those graces for the hard road in front of us.

Others were less than supportive. Emotions were high and the sum of all the circumstances may have been a bit much for some. Things were said that made me feel like less than a bride. “It’s not a real wedding” seemed to be the theme of those not is support of our decision. This created a fashion emergency for me.

My fancy, lace covered, extremely expensive dress had not yet arrived and would not have been fitting for the somber/joyful small affair.

My maid of honor and mother put together a wedding in a week as I had just started a new job and was working 12 hour days. They suggested I go to a bridal store and buy something off the rack from the less formal wedding lines. It would be white and a wedding dress, but not too fancy for a small wedding. I should have listened, but all the fighting and opinions of others made me feel as though I had no right wearing a wedding dress.

I spent every night that week in the large bridal store. I would only try on bridesmaid dresses. I was so emotional I had to call my fiancé to come and pick me up one night as I couldn’t drive myself. Wearing what I thought was my best dress option; I asked my fiancé and his friend their opinion when they arrived.

“Umm, it looks like a bridesmaid dress, but you look nice” my fiancé said.

I threw a shoe at him. In public. Not that I encourage throwing shoes at people in the comfort of their homes either.

Other people’s reaction to the biggest, best and hardest time in my life was preventing me from knowing what I wanted for myself. And I was allowing it. I was frustrated. All the expectations I had for my wedding I had given up out of love, how could people think badly of me? It was my first and only identity crisis and the only time in my life I look back on with regret.

Two days before our wedding I walked into Fashion Bug on my lunch hour and purchased a dress off the clearance rack for $14.99. It was white, it had lace and it was from their “beach wedding” line. I did not love the dress. I didn’t even really like it. It was the only white dress I could find that didn’t look too much like a wedding dress but was still a wedding dress.

On our wedding day with my family

I didn’t feel beautiful on my wedding day. I didn’t have my dad walk me down the aisle. Although that is what I wanted, I feared it would have appeared to others too “wedding like”. Because of the circumstances I didn’t feel as though others thought I had the right to be happy on my wedding day.

The wedding itself was amazing and the kindness and generosity of the people who supported us was overwhelming. There were about 50 people present and the mass was intimate and gorgeous. The important aspects of the day were perfect.

The best picture of us together on our wedding day

But the fashion - that symbolized a huge compromise. I compromised myself by allowing others to define the circumstances of our wedding. I still pray I will forgive myself someday.

My expectations of others and their opinions of my life have greatly changed because of the lesson of the wedding dress. It was a lovely wedding. I’m so sad I didn’t embrace it as fully as I could have. I did learn a very valuable lesson. Joseph and I no longer care what others think of our choices. We pray about what we do and how we run our family and that is as far as the consulting goes. We protect this union.

The saga of my wedding dresses is a hard one for me. Like so many hard things in life, the experience was freeing. The regret and anger I have at myself over the situation haunts me and motivates me to be who I am and no one else. I no longer care about or allow the opinions  or negativity of others to impact how I feel, especially when it comes to my own life. I’m so thankful we learned this lesson early in our marriage and before we had children. Because I have been so blessed by that clearance dress, I am growing to love it as well.

We kept our originally set wedding date and had our reception. My husband was feeling better after his operation and it was a joyous affair. And, because some of you have asked – yes, this is where I feel on the dance floor. I broke my leg in two places. I left in an ambulance strapped to a stretcher in a huge wedding dress. I don’t know why they called an ambulance. It may have something to do with the fact that several of the people making decisions had been drinking. It was midnight after all.

Since we did not walk in together on my wedding day, my dad walked me into the reception

With a college friend - right before I fell!

That night ended with a middle aged man trying to get me (and all of my dress) onto an X-ray table in the ER. I was wearing my fancy, expensive wedding dress. Made just for me. I told them they could just cut the darn thing off, but they wouldn’t do it. They said it looked too fancy and I may regret having them cut it off of me. Instead, I was mortified to have others called into the room, put iron aprons on and hold the thing over my head so they could X-ray my leg.

My older brother in the waiting room at the hospital. Poor guy has taken much heat for this SUPER funny picture

I had two weddings, and two wedding dresses. I was humiliated in both of them, but loved greatly in both of them as well. More importantly, I have one groom. And one very big lesson learned about protecting my joy.

With my groom. I love him so much we got married twice!

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!)

Some Days the Rules are Different

Children need schedules and structure. So say the experts who have time to get their doctorates in child rearing or pop psychology and you know, sit down and write a book.

I bet those people don’t have kids. Or have one, and a live in nanny. They don't have their 3rd daughter in 3 years on the way.

Look, I KNOW kids need to know what to expect. They need to know certain behaviors have direct consequences. I believe this, we parent this way. Almost every day.

some days the rules are different. Because some days the rent needs to be paid. Today is one of those days. Mama and daddy are both working from home today.

The girls are dressed, sort of. Their hair has not been combed and the afternoon snack was indeed rice crispy bars. Said bars were handed out while mama was really busy with an important e-mail. 15 minutes later I retreated to the bedroom to sit on the bed (which has dried pee on it from a three year old’s naptime accident) to make an important phone call. When I came out the girls were once again eating rice crispy bars for a snack.

“I just gave them a snack,” I said to my husband.

“Oh sorry,” he said.

Daddy was busy. He was working on an important e-mail and needed the gals to have a snack. It seems he has the same tricks I do.

So we can’t live like this every day. But, some days the rules are different. Pretzels, yogurt and left over pancakes just have to count as lunch some days.

Locking the girls in their room to play the game “you can knock on the door to be let out after every book and toy has been picked up and put away” must count as the afternoon activity once in a while.

Who’s with me?

Once, twice, three times a lady?

Last week I had my big 20 week ultrasound. I am happy to report everything is looking great with baby "String"! Baby is measuring a bit small, but no one seemed too concerned, so I decided to try not to be either.

The night before the ultrasound I wrote the following feelings on finding out the gender of the baby, something we have never done. This post appeared as a guest post on Mom vs. the Boys - a great blog about a mommy to all sons. Now that it has been posted over there, I thought I would share it here.

Many of you who are friends with me on facebook already know what we learned about the sex of the baby - but for those of you who don't know, I will post that tomorrow!

Once, Twice, Three Times a Lady?
I wasn’t a little girl who always had a baby doll, dreamed of her wedding day or had a mile long list of future baby names.

I was raised with brothers, “the rose between two thorns” my grandmother called me. Although I wasn’t sure what I wanted out of life I knew this much: if I was going to be a mommy, I’d have a house full of boys.

Never being a “girly girl” myself, I didn’t image ballet class, hair bows and emotional breakdowns over receiving the wrong color sippy cup.

My motherhood dreams had a different sort of theme. Frogs in the freezer and monster truck rallies sounded like good old fashioned family fun to me!

The man who became my husband had a similar dream. He briefly considered the priesthood, but knew it wasn’t right for his life because he wanted to be a father of a different sort. Just as mine did, his images of parenthood involved little boys….holding baseball bats.

While pregnant with our eldest child we both just “knew” a daughter was on her way and decided to wait for the birthday to find out. After all, “there are only so many real surprises in your adult life” as people say. But, after 28 hours of labor we didn’t care what came out of me, as long as it came out. When our daughter was born my husband almost passed out – he thought I had given birth to a still born son. In his defense the placement of an umbilical cord can be confusing at first glance, and his wife may have forgotten to mention to him that newborns don’t come out pink and snuggly. Therefore, the announcement of a healthy baby girl wasn’t as climactic as TV dramas about child birth had convinced me it would be.

Twelve months later we found ourselves checking back into labor and delivery. We had stuck by our decision that gender is to be learned when baby makes their appearance, but we knew it was a boy. Except, it wasn’t a boy. She was a girl. And in a matter of twelve months we had become a family of girls.

Funny thing about pink things, they tend to multiply – and migrate. What started as a closet in the nursery full of miniature pink clothing turned into a room of pink and glitter. A year later our living room is covered in the feathers that have fallen off a play boa and our cupboards are stacked with pink and flowered plastic dishes.

Last week at dinner my baseball loving husband found himself raising his voice to two little girls.
“That is a fork, NOT a magic wand! We use it for eating, not waving! The next girl to use their fork as a magic wand will have their baby taken away!”

I tried to hold in my laughter. But, the next morning when he went to put his shoes on he pulled out a balled up knot of costume jewelry. The look on his face had me in stitches for hours. Things are too fun over here. Clearly God knew better about what we needed than we did. I wouldn’t give these moments back for anything.

As the pink took over, the thoughts of rowdy little boys faded. In fact, the thought of those rowdy boys jumping on my furniture and running up my grocery bill has become a bit frightening. We love our little bubble of estrogen!

We’ve got thing figured out over here, being a family of daughters. Just as my two beauty queens have helped me find my own inner girly girl, we’ve decided to add to our family once again. And here I sit. 20 weeks pregnant on the eve of the big 20 week scan. The element of surprise has been lost on us and in the morning we will be asking about the gender.

The gender of the third baby has become a bit of an obsession. I’ve been counting down the days and may have even purchased the IntelliGender test. I knew I should have left well enough alone and was acting like a fool when I set off the alarm in the store and had to take the walk of shame, showing what is was I had purchased and that yes indeed, I had paid for it. There I was, red faced and holding a blue and pink box splattered with question marks and promises that it could tell me what color rompers to buy. I couldn’t wait the recommended 10 minutes to read the results. When the test read GIRL I didn’t know if I was excited or disappointed. I felt the same as I had an hour and an embarrassing trip to the drug store earlier. And I was $25 bucks poorer.

Everyone knows a pregnant woman holds the right to change her mind. My problem is that I don’t know what I want. I go back and forth daily. Do I want to hear “it’s a boy!” and fulfill my dream of mothering a sticky, dirt covered goof ball? Or, do I want things to stay the same and be the family of girls, which I have so grown to love? Am I ready to let go of that dream of long ago and replace it with the pink colored reality that has turned into a dream? Will I have more than 3 children, or is this the final say on the gender(s) we will parent?

All I know is that I feel like a child on Christmas Eve. Waiting with so much anticipation that no matter what the morning brings, it may also bring a bit of disappointment because the excitement will be over. Then again, with my luck, we’ll have a modest baby who doesn’t want to share.

But if I was a betting women, I’d go all in on baby gal number 3!

Two Years of Anna Clare

A few weeks ago my second daughter turned 2. I’ve been thinking a lot about a letter I wrote her the first week of her life. I wrote about how much I loved her, and how I was so excited to see what being her mom was going to mean for my life. I also observed that I didn’t feel as though I knew anything about her, except that I loved her. To be honest, two years later I still feel that same way many days!

Her daddy was convinced she would be a he. After much waiting and worry, she came fast and before we knew it, we had two daughters. Her arrival sent us into such a whirlwind we had a difficult time choosing her name. She just didn’t “look” like any of the names we had picked out.

She has been difficult to read from the time she started moving within me and she has been difficult to get to know. She didn’t arrive with the goal of making herself know as her sister did. She has her own world, and has a tough time inviting others in – or caring much at all about joining the rest of the world. For this I loved her instantly, and this has been the challenge of being her mother.

She’s smart. Not in the way that she will recite facts we have made her memorize as is generally easy to do with a two year old. She has no interest in sharing her knowledge to please us; or anyone else for that matter. She seeks knowledge. It’s the very air she breathes. She wants to know how things work and will destruct anything to make that happen. Things are for a purpose – and it is ingrained in her to figure out what that is and how it works. She doesn’t care much for the aesthetic appeal of things. She wants to take it apart and put it back together, its color means nothing to her.

At age 2 she is already skilled at any and all things wires and cords

Anna is as sweet and loving as a little girl can be. She needs no affirmation and takes no direction. An empty corner and a project to figure out does more for her little mind than an audience. We had no idea she knew all of her numbers and letters until I overheard her whispering under her breathe while I taught her sister. I never taught her, she taught herself, and that is how she likes it.

There is never any middle ground with her. She is all or nothing. She lives constantly on one end of the emotional spectrum and refuses being taught to move away from that way of life. This is my biggest concern for her, and one of my proudest moments as a mother. I don’t worry about the trouble she will get into as a follower. Her own impulses are way too strong to follow anyone else’s.

Who says a little girl must laugh and smile at her birthday party? Why do that when you can read a book alone!!

This makes her a difficult child to parent. She cannot be forced to eat or sleep. Still, at age 2, she is up 3 times a night. Sleep training continues to fail her. She has not yet learned to comfort herself, nor does she seek comfort from her parents. She needs to cry and scream for hours and must get out what she needs to get out. She’s uncontrollable in a brilliant way. We have no idea what to expect from her in life, and although it is a very tiresome way to live and we have grown weary since her birth, it has also been one of the greatest joys of my life. Her daddy and I joke about how every grey hair and worry line can be directly linked to her birth, but that she will be the child to make a discovery or cure a disease and fund our retirement.

She is loving and goofy, the most serious and the silliest. She has an amazing ability of communicating with large animals that is foreign to every other member of her family; yet communicating with people seems to be a struggle for her. Fearless and powerful, if there is one thing I know about her, it is that she will always amaze me.

She makes me a better person. She teaches me daily that God has a plan and that sometimes it’s hard, but still perfect. She gives wonderful hugs and her smile has the power to bring joy to me like no other.
I can’t wait for her to be a big sister this year. I just know she’ll be awesome at it – and she’ll do it in a completely original and surprising way!

Happy 2nd Birthday Anna Clare!

Mama as Memory Maker

I had big plans for Tessa’s 3rd birthday earlier this month. I did that crazy mom thing. You all know what I’m talking about. When you get this idea in your head that a certain day or memory MUST be perfect and if it’s not your children will never remember a happy childhood? The pressure and motivation to avoid motherly guilt for eternity turns you into a crazy memory making animal ready to eat her own young if they don’t pose for that picture, smile and have a wonderful day? A day that will forever be branded into their memories next to where they remember you as mom of the year. Someone tell me it’s not just me. Anyone? A show of hands in solidarity – please….

Because my eldest daughter has inherited her photographic memory from her father, in the days leading up to her 3rd birthday I became obsessed with the notion that she may be able to remember her 3rd birthday all the days of her life. I decided allowing her to decorate her own cake, compete with making all the color and flavor choices would be the perfect gift for a girl who is 3 going on 30. What better present than to encourage her greatest gift – being the boss!

I hyped up the activity for the entire week leading up to the big birthday. She settled on yellow cake in cupcake form, chocolate frosting and that there MUST be purple glitter covering every cupcake. Mom of the year was within my grasp and I began patting myself on the back before the cupcakes were even mixed.

Unfortunately, my back had other plans. Little gal number 2 did some climbing onto the bathroom counter and my pregnant self decided it was wise to climb up after her to retrieve her thus saving her from any harm. It was the natural response – being mother of the year and all. Baby girl and I came tumbling down, throwing out my back and landing on my swelled tummy.

I was in a bad way and unable to move. I crawled to our brand new couch and there I stayed for the duration of the day. Once the pain subsided a bit I began to cry hysterically that the cupcakes hadn’t been made and I had ruined Tessa’s 3rd birthday. My ever supportive husband offered to make the cupcakes himself but I would have none of it. I had promised the birthday girl. Instead of trying to rationalize with a clearly distraught pregnant woman, my husband gathered every material necessary for cupcake baking and delivered them to the coffee table sitting in front of the new couch we had delivered that morning.

It took a while for Tessa, my rule follower, to warm to the idea of baking in the living room. Once she realized it was indeed allowed (just this once!) she felt as special as any three year old girl could.

It was a very happy birthday and as soon as dinner was served (on the couch) and the candles were blown out – this mama headed off to the ER. Sure enough, my discomfort was no laughing matter. I was having contractions! An ultrasound tech was called in to do a check on the baby and I was given some good meds to settle me down and make me more comfortable. Because the ultrasound tech wanted to double check everything was going well with the baby, she decided while we were observing baby we could try to find out the sex. I was elated!

Baby was doing well, but overly modest! So, no news on that front. It was a bit of a tease as we have never found out the sex of a baby before birth and are excited that this go around we’re going to try it out. Thankfully, I was too relieved and feeling too blessed to be all that disappointed.

The day definitely did not go as expected, but turned out to be such a blessed day for our growing family. I was reminded that I have the exact man God knew I needed as my husband, I watched 2 little gals blow out candles and get messy with frosting and I even got a sneak peak at our newest little blessing.

My husband’s ability to embrace the reality of the day and make the most of a bad situation created a better memory than the one I had scripted in my over obsessed head.

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?

One of THOSE days!

It’s been one of those days over here! You know the kind, nothing HUGE goes wrong, but every little thing adds up to the point where for a brief moment you think frustration just may take your life?!


I’m currently in the middle of too many projects and therefore not getting a darn thing done! Productivity needs to be a perfect storm for me. Having too much on my plate sends me into a panic mode that makes me lazy, tired and well, unproductive. Yet, not having anything to do does the same to me. I need the perfect amount of things on my plate to force me to be productive yet not overwhelm me. Don’t worry, I am aware of how high maintenance I am – as is my husband.


Funny thing though – life does not cater to me! Crazy I know! It seems every mama I know is chasing “balance” like it is something we’ll find in the back of our unorganized closet or at the bottom of the laundry pile.


I do know I have been craving more time to be a mom. Of course, I’m a mom every second of my life and forever more. But, my dreams outside of my family seem to be fading into the background – for now. I still have dreams, but lately I’ve been wishing I could just focus all of my attention on my family my home and my children. Projects, cooking and the education of my gals are at the top of that list.


I’ve been praying at lot lately about really appreciating the moment I am in and not wanting or planning for the future. My children have gone through a TON of changes this summer and as we transition into fall, I can’t help think about the fact that they are getting older and I will never have a 2 and 1 year old again. I want to hang onto this moment. My TO DO list seems to haunt me all day and all night and I don’t enjoy any moment of the day because I feel I can’t until the TO DO list is done. I think a bit more structure and some prayer about what actually needs to be on that TO DO list is in order!


Today was a hard day for me. I was so stressed out about the TO DO list that not one thing got done – other than stressing. Other things came up that needed attention and although things were accomplished, they weren’t the things I wanted accomplished for the day. I did take a moment in the car this evening to appreciate the fact that we got to the bank and took care of depositing a few checks I had been collecting. But, as I was enjoying the feeling of accomplishment, I got a bloody nose! The only thing in the WHOLE car I could find to help stop the bleeding while we were driving down the highway: a diaper! So, there I was, an overwhelmed mom holding a diaper to her bleeding face! But, all things have a silver lining: my hubby decided tonight we should go out to eat! God sure knew what I needed in a husband. Joseph loves to take things off my plate and place them on his own. Even though his plate is often fuller than mine!

What about you? Are you living in the moment? What do you do to move on after one of THOSE days? Ever used a diaper to stop a bloody nose?

A happy thought from my week: Tessa caught wind that some little ones were going to school this week. So she got herself "ready" to go herself. Anna loved it!

Thou Shall Not......

Recently, on a long family drive, Joseph and I pulled off the highway to grab a sandwich. Not wanting to wake the gals who were happily in the middle of a much needed nap, Joseph parked in a Subway parking lot and sent me in for our sandwiches.

I stood in line waiting for my sandwich among the construction and farm workers of the small town. As I looked out the window of the sandwich shop to the town's only stop light, I noticed a women dressed all in black getting out of her black, fancy car.

"She's clearly a traveler as well," I thought to myself.

She stepped up to order her sandwich and pushed her sunglasses from her eyes to the top of her head, tucking her hair behind her ears. The silver on the side of her glasses caught the sunlight. As I was admiring her glasses, I realized the silver on the side was a label: Dolce and Gabbana.

"That figures," I thought to myself. I always see something I love and then find out it's a designer, top of the line, top dollar item. When I first started driving I kept seeing certain cars on the road I would fall in love with. Upon doing some research, I learned the 2 cars I was coveting were BMWs and Saabs.

And there is the magic word: covet.

"Thou shall not covet thy neighbor's goods," reads the 10th Commandment.

Coveting was exactly what I was doing. Fancy and lovely as this women was in her Dolce and Gabbana shades, and as much as I would love to be wearing a pair myself, I recalled how blessed I was. Waiting in the car for me were two sleeping angels and their daddy, a better husband then I ever dreamt of. I thought of how blessed we were to now be able to pull off the road and purchase sandwiches and sodas, something that was not possible in the beginning of our marriage.

Today I found myself in another restaurant at the lunch hour. As I sat waiting for my friend I decided to dig into my purse for a pen and some paper. I pushed my $10 sunglasses to the top of my head, unbuttoned my giant "mom purse" and began searching for a pen. I pulled out diapers, a half eaten granola bar and receipts from a recent family vacation. Just as I was thinking, "I've got to clean this purse out," I pulled out a pair of sunglasses.

Seeing as I only own one pair of sunglasses, my curiosity was peaked. I've always thought of my mom purse as a Mary Poppins bag of sorts, but this was the first time the thing had created an item.

I turned the glasses over in my hands, hoping to trigger the memory of where they came from. As I touched their smooth surface I noticed a silver label: Dolce and Gabbana!

My jaw dropped! I looked around the restaurant half expecting an answer to be written on the walls or for someone to jump out and tell me I was an unknowing participant in some Christian version of a PUNKED or CANDID CAMERA type show.

I hadn't told anyone about my encounter with the fancy lady in the sandwich shop. I don't even think I've ever mentioned to anyone how I love this brand of sunglasses. I recalled a fancy store we had stopped into on vacation and almost started hyperventilating at the thought that I may have somehow, unwillingly, stolen these glasses. Did the girls pick these up and put them in my purse?

Grasping for some explanation, I called my mother. We had visited her last week, maybe she had some knowledge of these glasses.

Sure enough, my mother is missing a pair of sunglasses. My eldest daughter (2 1/2), who loves sunglasses, must have stolen them from grandma's bathroom and put them in my purse.

My mom thought this was hilarious. I on the other hand, was not so pleased. Although I am happy to have an answer, how do you reprimand a 2 1/2 year old for something she did 4 days ago? Did she pick up the glasses thinking they were mommy's? Did she knowingly steal them from her grandmother?

Since we just can't know for sure, we'll take this opportunity to teach her, and remind ourselves, of the 7th Commandment: Thou shall not steal.

We'll also spend some time on how breaking the 10th Commandment: Thou shall not covet thy neighbor's goods can lead to the temptation of stealing!