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Showing posts from 2015

For My Mom

    Growing up, I always wanted to be more like my Dad. Maybe it was because I was already a lot like my Mom, or because his coolness factor was higher because he was gone a lot and more mysterious as a result. I don't know. As I've grown older, I've noticed more and more similarity between myself and Mom, from the curling of our hair and our general build, to our tone of voice in the phrases we use. I've also come to appreciate being so similar to her, for she truly is a woman I want to emulate. Granted, everyone has shortcomings, but in spite of those I believe she was a fantastic mother. She would stifle her intense fear of creeping crawling things so our curiosity wouldn't be stifled. She powered through her fear of horses, and allowed me to see the realization of my dream of having one of my own, even to the point of taking care of him if I went somewhere overnight.  She gave the best support she could give when I came to her with a problem. She gave me room to

Made To Serve

     I am a servant. You are a servant. Whether we like it or not, we are all servants. We can't help it; it's built into our nature, and there is no escaping it. Everyone is a slave to something, whether it be our passions, our jobs, our families, what have you. The only question is, who do you choose to serve? Christians are often ridiculed for choosing to give up their "freedom" when they choose to serve Christ, but the reality is no one is free from service. The self-serving man is still just as bound to serving as the one who chooses to follow Christ. The only difference is in the masters they choose. 

Eight Weeks

          It has been so long since I've written. I don't know what to write. While I haven't had a good opportunity to sit down and put my thoughts onto "paper", it doesn't mean that I have stopped thinking. On the contrary, I've been thinking even more, and now cannot decide on a subject. So I guess I'll stick with what we've been doing lately.            Baby, lots of baby. Though this is only the third (and worst) blow out I've had to deal with. She is going to be 8 weeks old tomorrow. I could not have asked for a better baby. So calm. So content. I love her smiles. I love that she's starting to "talk". I love her complaining cry; the one where she cries and closes her mouth and it sounds like she's saying "Meh meh meh meh". I love the little happy laugh she does when I pick her up after she's been fussing. I am so in love with my baby girl, it's amazing.            Juanito is roughly 21 months. He's

Continued Humility

     As promised (for once), I continue the story. The lessons in letting go didn't stop with varicose veins. At our 38 week appointment there was cause for concern regarding preeclampsia . I had some tests run that weekend, and the results were not promising. At my next appointment, the midwife was strongly suggesting to try and induce labor. I was upset. This was not how it was supposed to be, a week early. I had things that needed to get done before Mary arrived. Code Monkey had a project due that weekend. Things were just not how I wanted them to go. I reluctantly agreed to take the midwife's advice, and left the appointment with a kit to try and induce labor naturally. I honestly was hoping that it wouldn't work; this was not how I  had planned it. God had different plans. After taking different herbal tinctures and homeopathic remedies every 15 minutes for 4 hours, there was some cramping but nothing consistent, so I went to bed. Around 2 a.m. I started timing the cra

A Lesson in Humility

     Two weeks ago, I confessed the sin of pride. It struck me, as I was waiting in line, that I could not remember confessing it before. Which is kind of a huge oversight on my part, considering how proud I am, as those few who are close to me can attest. This past year, and definitely this last pregnancy, have been one really long lesson in humility, and I'm afraid I haven't been learning as quickly or as well as I ought.       As much as I may seem to be a go with the flow kind of person, deep down I really like, and on a certain level need , to be in control. Not of everything, mind you, but of certain things. I guess that's not really saying much, since it seems to be part of the human condition. Anyway, losing control of those things causes me to feel like my security blanket has been stripped away, that I'm left drowning with no hope of recovery. The feeling is made that much worse when the control was so attached to what seemed like your very essence.      My

Called To Be Simons

     I had my first real, in person chat with an online friend today, and it was wonderful. It isn't often that I get to have conversations with people older than 2, let alone conversations that don't revolve mainly around mothering of some kind or another, and  this man is just a wealth of information, resulting from both his academic background and life experience in general. As the conversation flowed, it came up that we, as Catholics, are not meant to sequester ourselves away in avoidance of the world, but are called to be missionaries to it. In addition, all people need someone that they can feel safe being themselves with, in all of their woundedness and vulnerability, because everyone, at some level, is broken. It got me thinking again, how we are all called to pick up our crosses and follow Christ. What we often seem to overlook, however, is that Christ did not carry his cross alone . Even He had help. Granted, Simon of Cyrene didn't exactly volunteer for the job o

Damage

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     Well, I guess it is about time for a little update on how I am doing, and since there are actually things to report. But first, I want to link to a link up that my friend Katherine hosted about a month ago, about maternal depression. I confess that I haven't read all of the contributions yet, but the ones I have read have helped me to accept my own struggle, and hopefully they will help you as well.  Hope For The Future:  A Blog Hop on Post-Partum Depression and Anxiet y       Ok, so I decided to sit and read them. A Knotted Life  pretty much describes my struggles, though it's only been a year instead of 5. And reading the others nearly made me cry, too, because I know what it's like, and as much as I wish I could say I am better, it isn't true.       Roughly three weeks ago I had an absolutely fantastic week. It was the best week I have had in a really, really long time. And the next week, it was back. That Wednesday, I found myself mired in the darkness, the

Ashamed & Afraid: Mean Girls

(Disclaimer:  I've been putting this off for a while now; I know it needs to be written, but I'm still not sure how to go about it. There is just so much; so many little things that all mashed together to create a really big thing. There will more likely than not be follow-ups, and this one will most definitely need to be re-written.)       When I turned six, I was going to be a boy. At least, that is what Mom tells me. I don't remember; there's actually very little that I do remember in detail from when I was younger. Anyway, my birthday came and went, and I was still a girl; but I wasn't too upset about it since I had forgotten about it by the time my birthday had come.      As long as I can remember, I've always preferred the company of boys. I preferred they types of games that boys usually play, the rough and tumble ones, the sports-like ones, to those of baby dolls and house that most girls are inclined towards. I was outdoorsy and didn't mind gett

Compulsory Gift Giving

     The Christmas season. The most wonderful and magical time of the year. Unless you are contemplating not doing Santa, or shooting for a minimalist Christmas gift-wise, or not actually doing presents on the 25th at all. Then you are vilified, because children need magic and imagination and special things in their lives, you horrible old Scrooge.      Valentine's Day. The day where if you don't go out of your way to do something uber-duber romantic, you are thought of as an unfeeling, cold, and insensitive person.      Easter. A time where we welcome the long awaited spring, with bunnies, chicks, flowers, and chocolate. Unless you don't want the children to inadvertently focus on Easter baskets and their contents instead of Jesus rising from the dead. Then you're a horrible magic killer, too.      Ah, Mothers' Day and Fathers' Day. If you don't give your parents a call, send a card, order flowers, then you are an ungrateful, insensitive child. Don't

The Best Cookies EVER

     Yes, so that title there might be a bit of a hyperbole, but I recently discovered some pretty amazing cookies that I ABSOLUTELY HAD TO SHARE. Now, before you all get too overly excited, I do have to warn you:  They are not traditional cookies. You might be hesitant, or even a bit repulsed perhaps, when you read the ingredients, but I promise   you , these are revolutionary cookies. Revolutionary .       So for a brief bit, I was going gluten free, and that usually means no fun treats like cookies, etc., because traditional flour is just loaded gluten and is the easiest way to produce baked goods. But I wasn't going to let that stop me from satisfying my sweet tooth, which isn't actually very sweet, but that's sort of beside the point. Anyway, Pinterest is a wonderful source for all sorts of things, gluten free recipes among them. I had decided that I wasn't going to put the money or effort into things which require multiple types of flours, or generic gluten fre

Stress Eating

     She sat, looking at the cinnamon roll on her plate. It was a good one, gooey with cinnamon, topped with a cream cheese frosting. Well, not really a frosting - it wasn't thick enough for that - but neither was it the thin consistency one typically pictures when thinking of a glaze. She shrugged her shoulders; ultimately, it didn't matter. This was her favorite kind, and it little mattered what the topping was called.       It had been a long day, she was tired and just needed a break from it all. She picked up the roll and began to dissect it. Some people like to eat them from the edge on in, but not she. No, she preferred to find the edge of the roll and unroll it, eating it one piece at a time, savoring the buttery blend of cinnamon and sugar that comprised the filling, plentiful on every bite that way. As she popped the first piece in her mouth, she could feel her body relaxing, releasing the built up tension from the day.       "When did it come to this?"

The Via Dolorosa That Is Motherhood

        Pain. Heartache. Agony. Not words which one typically associates with motherhood. I, however, am coming to realize how fitting they are, at least for me. Now, before you get all huffy, hear me out. Perhaps I am doing it wrong. I don't know. But it hurts, deep down to my core. Yes, the sacrifices I have to make in order to be the kind of mom I want to be hurt; but that is to be expected. The guilt I feel for failing so very hard (at least to my thinking, at times) cuts deeply. The pain and confusion that comes, when trying to "research" what is the best way to raise children only exasperates the problem. The times when you are tired and at your wit's end, and it isn't even lunch time yet and you just want to throw in the towel, because no one is listening to anything you say, and you just feel crushed inside. When you lose your temper with children who are pretty much angels, and it leaves you so wounded you wonder if you'll ever heal.       It isn

Taking Care Of The Self

     So, it is once again Lent. The super penitential season for Catholics, where it is traditional to give up things which are not bad for you, as a way of developing discipline and mastery over the self. Unless you're me. This is the 4th Lent in a row, that I've either been pregnant, or breastfeeding. Both of those conditions exempt one from fasting, and depending on which site you look on, abstaining from meat too. Except non-meat sources of protein are pretty easy to come by, so I do abstain. But I digress. For the fourth year in a row, my Lenten goals have been "take better care of me". So instead of giving stuff up, I've been all "actually eat more", "go to bed when I'm tired", "sleep in if possible", "eat that cookie, because for goodness sake you're feeding two people". And I've felt guilty about it, because it seems to go so against the point of the season, and even the point of Christianity. "Takin

Stifling Cries For Help

     After my last post, Into Temptation , a friend mentioned how we need to be careful to not let our weaknesses and failings depress us. He's right; while weak is not a place which ought to be sought out, it also shouldn't cause us inordinate pain to realize and acknowledge our weaknesses. Unfortunately, though, sometimes it does. Even more unfortunately, the way our society mocks and belittles those who are "weak" or "failures" is often a huge stumbling block for those who really do need help, whose issues at whatever time in their life are just too much for them to bear alone. All too often, people are met with "Toughen up! Quit being such a pansy! Just grow up, will you?", when what they really need to hear is "How can I help? Is there anything I can do?", or, even better "It's okay. I understand." What's more, I think, is people need to hear the stories of others who have made it through, who have been able to face

Into Temptation

     I am terribly afraid of being perceived of as weak. I know I'm not alone in this, and I dare say that at the very least I am joined by the vast majority of the male population, who also suffer from this anxiety. While it seems like this is just part of the Human Condition, I think we Americans are almost proud of how driven we are by our fear of being perceived of as weak. After all, only the strong survive and thrive, right? And if fear of weakness helps you get there, then by golly, why not use it to full advantage? That's all fine and dandy, until you stop to consider all the things you did, in spite of not wanting to or liking it, simply because you were teased for wanting to quit? Because you didn't want to be called a loser, a quitter, weak? Ponder those things for a moment. Are you really stronger and better for having done them, or are you more bitter, angry, or disgruntled because you let peer pressure keep you from staying true to yourself and what you actual

Dear Baby Girl

     So, today I was going to blog about all the recent hoopla regarding Pope Francis, but sort of got myself into hot water with my brother regarding a comment I made on a Facebook post I was tagged in, and have decided that now would be perhaps the right time to discuss my feelings on this subject. Since we only have 2 boys right now, my friend thought I would appreciate this blog post in the form of an open letter to the ladies who were offering this woman condolences for expecting yet another boy, when she already had one. I read it, and commented on the FB post "I'm thinking, just from past experience, my reply to comments like that will not be very feminist and favorable... I will be quite thrilled if we never have a girl." My brother saw it, and called me out via text message, correctly condemning my harshness and questioning what I would do if I did indeed have a girl, and she found out I never wanted her. While I never meant it to sound like I would never want t

Winter As A Parent

     I have always liked winter. I like the cold. I like the snow (yeah, I even sort of like the shoveling). I used to go for walks, long walks, in the neighbors across the street's woods, well, any time of the year, but it was particularly special in the winter time. The snow was beautiful, and the silence was incredible. So very peaceful, and the perfect way to re-ground myself.       It snowed here on Tuesday, and reminds me very much of home, particularly with the frigid temperatures we've had since. Only now, instead of just myself, I have two littles that need to be dressed up in snow gear if we want to go outside, which Jose was very much excited to do, and it took a half an hour  to get us all bundled up and out the door. 30 whole minutes . Thankfully they are both still in diapers, and I can get myself ready last, because after that I'm sure someone would have had to go potty before we even got outside. It was a fun time in the end, though, until a neighbor's

2015 Resolutions

     I'm not one to usually make New Year's resolutions, but this year my deciding that things need to be worked on happened to coincide with the ending of the year. For accountability and because this is one of the easiest ways to keep them where I can find them, I'm sharing them with you. In no particular order, except for the first one.  1. Not Die - During our semester in Rome, I decided to come up with a "Things Not To Do" list, and the first and most important one of those was Not Die. I think it is good to have at least one resolution at which there is practically no chance of failing. Keep it simple.  2. Speak the Truth in Love - This applies to "I love you, and you really shouldn't be allowing XXX into your mind because it's bad for you" type of fraternal correction, but even more importantly for me it applies to what I let and lead others to think about me. I have a very difficult time speaking up for myself when someone is being re