The Grace of Survival

[Happy Easter, everyone! Somehow this got backlogged and I never knew it was up at Phases....here it is, better late than never, in any case.]

Be calm, infinitely calm, both in soul and in body. Do not attempt too much, but what you do, do well and gently. Quality first, but good quality. Follow grace in souls; take its step.
~Dom Augustin Guillerand, O. Cart

As the New Year began, my husband headed out of town for four days–he was off on a yearly silent retreat– while I stayed home with our two sons, ages three and one. I was just barely on the recovery end of an exhausting few weeks of whole-family illness. I knew that if I set unreasonable goals for our home-on-our-own-days, I would end up being an impatient, uncharitable, and downright unpleasant mommy. So I decided to keep things simple. While my husband was gone I planned to accomplish... nothing. The bar of cleanliness, order, and efficiency would be lowered to the level of basic survival... Read the rest here!

A Call to Generosity and Sacrifice

Our late Holy Father John Paul II reminds us, in his Aposotolic Letter Mulieris dignitatem, that there is a constant link between motherhood and the Paschal mystery. We can think of Mary, as she presented her infant son in the Temple, full of the promise and joy and mystery that all babies bring. Before his birth she had carried him, the fruit of her womb, her very flesh, each day her body swelling tight around the life that grew ever-heavier within her. After Simeon's foreboding words that her own heart would be pierced by a sword, she certainly carried the weight of her Son's agony in her soul, each day bringing the inevitable Cross ever-nearer. The Cross will accompany us all as mothers--it is just a question of when, how, or to what degree.

Antonia Broadwell is one of us, a mother, who, like Mary, is bearing the Cross both in her heart and in her flesh. She is a parishioner at Our Lady of Hope, and a mother of triplets. Her husband David has appealed to us for help. Join us, the Our Lady of Hope Mom's Faith Formation group, in responding to their need, in helping carry her (and her family's) Cross, though our own generosity and sacrifices.

Update: Read Catholic Online's story "A Husband with the Heart of St. Joseph" to hear more about the Broadwell's journey.
I've already contacted David and Antonia to tell them to count on our group's efforts to raise them $2500 towards the construction of their home in Slovakia. If each mother in our group--surely there are 25 of us at least-- donates $100, we can reach this goal.

Yes, there are many other appeals for money at this time of year-- Lenten Appeals, Catholic Relief Services, Haiti disaster relief-- but may I suggest that this cause is different? David has termed their effort an "Amish Barn Raising" and I find his title very appropriate for us. There is a physical, incarnational reality to the fact that the Broadwells are part of our parish, neighbors living just down the street from us, to whom we can extend a neighborly helping hand.

Perhaps we gave all of our surplus to these other causes, and we have no "extra" funds left. May I suggest, then, giving sacrificially, particularly as Lent is coming up soon?

Some sacrifices to consider~

Could you...

• shave $25 off your grocery bill each week for a month, perhaps by fasting from juice, alcohol, coffee, sweets, meat, cereal, or magazines?
• go an extra month or two before getting your hair trimmed and donate the savings in the meantime?
  
• buy your next pair of jeans from a thrift store and donate what you would have spent?
• "dine in" on a night you might usually be inclined to go out, once or twice, and donate the cash to Antonia and David?
• plan a $100 cut in your summer vacation budget?
  

These are real sacrifices, but certainly relatively painless in the face of the true suffering of one of our own parish and neighborhood community.

If you feel called to donate to their cause, or help in any other way, please do the following:

1. Contact me at carlagaldo at gmail dot com with a) your name; b) your phone number; c) your donation amount (a "pledge" so I know how our group is doing in terms of the $2500 goal). Feel free to add your name in a comment here on my blog too, to let others know you are participating, although of course leave out the personal info and the donation amount, for privacy's sake.

2. Send your actual donation to David Broadwell at 5 Glengyle Lane, Potomac Falls, VA 20165. (I won't be collecting the funds myself--I think it is just simpler and more direct this way, as they need the funds ASAP for their move at the end of March.)

Anyone else outside of the OLOH community is more than welcome to contribute to the cause too, of course!

You can follow their story and see others who are helping the family at http://www.forantonia.wordpress.com/

A few more pictures that David sent me, pre-diagnosis--

10 Questions to Encourage Engaged Parenting in 2010

A great set of questions from Simplemom.net, worth pondering on a rainy New Year's Eve when I'm stuck at home sick, listening to the pathetic wheezing of my 1 year old and the coughing of my three year old. Here's my run-down. Anyone else?

Parenting Personality
1. How do you think your children have experienced you as a parent in 2009?
I’ve been something of a roller-coaster parent, I think. There have been high points of patience and new understanding, as I’ve begun to decipher my three-year old’s temperament, but there’s been low points of anger, short-temperedness, and annoyance. I think this year has been a jumble, with a lot of changes in our home (two moves) and a lot of changes in our lives (a baby who went from a little sleepy bundle to a walking almost-talking, almost-toddler), and my parenting is jumbled as well.

2. How do you want your children to experience you as a parent in 2010?

If Gabriel-and-Peter-as-adults could remember me in 2010, I would hope they would describe me as:

• Prayerful
  
• Smiling (ah, the mother's smile, so hard to find some days!)
  
• Constant (a constant loving presence, engaging in constant routines, and calmly enforcing constant limits--even if difficult)
• Giving (to my husband and to them)
  

Hit the Highlights
3. What aspects of parenting brought you the most joy in 2009?
Making time to be in nature with the boys during the week, and spending our free family time hiking or camping.

4. What are you looking forward to with great anticipation in 2010?
I don’t really have anything in mind... maybe this means we need to make some fun summer plans to look forward to.

Strengths and Challenges
5. As you survey your parenting toolbox, which tools do find to be working well for your family, and which tools could use some sharpening?
Sometimes I feel like nothing is working well with Gabriel, my three year old. He takes so much energy, it is like I can only do a good job with him when I am 100% rested, 100% present, 100% on top of my game. However, there has been a very important thing that has helped me more than anything else: make a connection before giving a direction. This idea--from Hold on to Your Kids-- is so good for Gabriel. If I call down the stairs "It's lunch time, come up and wash your hands" while he is playing in the basement, he will literally scream because he is so flustered at being interrupted in whatever he is doing. If I walk down the stairs, play with him for as little as 30 seconds, admire his work, whatever-- and then say that it is time for lunch, usually he will cheerfully bound up the stairs. The latter scenario takes more effort, and sometimes I stubbornly don't do it, thinking "he should just obey me." This usually has an effect of spiralling awfulness-- screams from Gabriel, more commands from me... the connection is really worth it.

That being said, I think the tool that needs most sharpening is the spousal help-tool. I think Michael and I need to talk more about how to approach parenting. We can learn a lot from one another, it's just a question of sitting down and talking about our parenting in an intentional way.

Building Connections
6. How have you pursued your children in the past year?
After hearing somewhere that the human psyche needs 5 affirmations for ever criticism made, I've tried hard to affirm Gabriel. In particular, the last moment before he goes to bed, I try to make a point of telling him something positive-- that he did a good job with his brother in a particular situation, or that I had a really good time baking bread with him, etc. Usually this evokes an incredibly positive response. A big smile, an "I had a good time doing that with you too, Mommy," and a hug. I hope that's what he drifts off to sleep thinking about, rather than the tears or the hard moments.

7. What actions will you take to be more engaged with your child in 2010?
I think both Gabriel and Peter need "special Mommy time" and "special Daddy time." When we have the chance to be one-on-one with them, I want to make the most of it, and intentionally do a special activity with them, rather than just trying to get more things done because there's one less child in the picture.

Mending Missteps
8. Is there any aspect of your relationship with your child that has been strained by unforgiveness or regret?
There are so many things that I regret about the last year, so many ways I wish I had done better, so many times I wish I had been more patient, more creative, more understanding. If there's one thing that's beautiful about Gabriel, he is very seemingly very forgiving. I know he's not quite at the stage where he can comprehend what that even means, but he doesn't seem to be one who holds grudges. It's more a question of me needing to forgive myself.

9. Is there an unresolved issue for which you need to offer your child forgiveness, or do you need to ask for forgiveness from your child?
Even though he's only three, there have been times when I have been so unreasonably impatient and short-tempered I have apologized to Gabriel. I think I need to just forgive him for being himself sometimes... he just lives life at a high-octane and sometimes I start to wish he were different. That's certainly not productive, and it doesn't take into account the fact that someday (please God) these difficult-to-handle bursts of energy and willfulness will be used for productive purposes!

10. What actions will you take to nurture a healthy connection with your children in 2010?
I think the number one thing I would like to do is focus on quality time at home. We can be so busy during the week--groceries, playdates, errands, library, Atrium, playschool--that our home time can be so filled with cleaning and tidying and moving on to the next outing. I want to have the time and space at home (or outdoors near home) to do quality activities with the boys.

A birthday letter for Peter

November 17, 2009

Dear Peter,

Today you are one year old! We’ve lived 365 days together since you were born, but the details of this day one year ago are still vivid. I remember realizing as I woke up that morning that your entrance into the world was beginning, slowly but surely. I had enough time to eat a light breakfast, take a shower, and clean up the house. I wore a blue sweatsuit I had borrowed from a friend. Daddy stayed home from work so he could drive me to the hospital, and Grandma came over to take care of Gabriel, because he wouldn’t be able to stay in the hospital while we were there with you. I remember the silly questions the nurse asked me as we checked into the hospital. You were more and more insistent about wanting to come out and be with us, meanwhile I had to respond to questions about if we had stairs in our house, and whether I would be walking up and down them after you were born! Finally we were admitted, and not too long after that–after about 2 hours, and some creative help from our Midwife Wendy–you were with us, wearing your I’ve-just-been-born hospital cap and lying on my chest. Grandma told me it snowed the day you were born. I didn’t know it– you, Daddy, and I were snuggled up together in our room rejoicing that you, Peter Timothy, were finally in our arms!

Thanks to your big brother, I already had practice with the logistics of babies and toddlers. If you were anything like him, you would be happy nursing or being wrapped in the sling or carrier. So I did what seemed best and you were happy, and you shared your happiness with us. The first day you laughed at Gabriel, playing silly games with a baseball cap after dinner, and he laughed back at you, I realized the dynamism that is having another person in our family who can both give and receive joy. Now that I can see this, I pray that someday God will bless us with more children, brothers and sisters for you to tease first smiles and giggles out of, just like Gabriel did with you.

You are your own person, Peter. Gabriel wanted me to hold his hands for three months straight while he was learning to walk; I think I tried that with you once or twice but you preferred to crawl, usually after your brother and whatever exciting thing he was doing. Now that you have learned to walk, you fling yourself into it with gleeful abandon, arms held wide, running towards the next adventure until you lose your balance and plop to the ground. You’re persistent, though. You scramble up, all on your own, and keep going.

The world offers you its treasures and you marvel– yellow ducks, barking dogs, playground slides, bike trailers, tennis balls, sand boxes, and ice cream all elicit exclamations of interest and approval from you. Your smile is contagious, and your hugs (you even pat me on the back sometimes!) are encouraging. I know God sent you to me for a reason–sometimes I can make mothering such a complicated and busy proposition–because without fail your grins entice me to play, to relax, to be. As my second son, my little Peter, you are ushering me into a motherhood of greater fullness–each day I spend with you, I am more aware, less afraid; more appreciative, and less anxious. Here’s to many more years like this one.

Love,
Mommy

(Thanks to Elizabeth Foss for the inspiration to write birthday letters--I can do this, even if I can't keep up with a baby book!)

Hidden at Home

He went down with them and came to Nazareth, and was obedient to them; and his mother kept all these things in her heart. And Jesus advanced (in) wisdom and age and favor before God and man. ~Luke 2:51-52

These sparse words, found after Mary and Joseph retrieve the young Jesus from teaching in the Temple, encompass about 20 years of Jesus' life. When I stop to ponder them, they are astounding. Jesus, God among us, was a “stay-at-home son” for most of his life.

Being a “stay-at-home mom” is a relatively new thing for me. I've only been home full time for about two years. My former life involved spending twenty-plus years out of the home, receiving a formal education, much of which never mentioned what one does when one is “at home”, or, for that matter, that there is any value whatsoever in “home”...

Read the rest here!

Happy Mother's Day, Mom...

...thanks for all the playing, the caring, the loving, the driving, the cooking, the worrying, the shopping, the sharing, the helping, the sewing, the cleaning, the nurturing, the teaching, the supporting, the chatting, the advising, and the loving that you've done over all these years. I love you! (Hey, and that shirt is pretty hip too! :) )

Professional Mom

Gusts of wind wave and snap the branches of the trees that line the playground. I'm wearing a baby wrapped snug against me, under my coat, and looking up warily to make sure no errant sticks come flying our way. It is still unseasonably warm, as it has been for the last few days, so being outside is actually pleasant, with the exception of the gale-force winds. Gabriel is trotting around busy with this and that, digging and wielding his own sticks and pretending to be a fireman all at once. I decide to sit down slowly, gingerly on one of the swings--the "mommy bench" won't work, as the little wrapped bundle on my chest doesn't seem to like to stay asleep when I sit down. Perhaps, I think, I can rest for a moment, and fool baby Peter by half-standing, half-sitting on the swing.

The second I sit down on the swing, Gabriel's eyes light up. "Mommy! I would like to swing!" For a split second, I think: Of course. And sigh inwardly. But I muster up some cheer, and go to lift him up onto the swing. Quite a trick when he's 35 pounds and I'm already wearing 15 extra baby pounds of Peter on my front. It also takes a bit of work to be cheerful, as I know Gabriel will probably complain that I can't push him high enough. He's been going through a "negative" phase recently, and doesn't like the fact that I can't sprint under the swing and do an "underdog" while I'm carrying Peter.

At such moments, I am beginning to find that analogizing my role as mother to a position in the working world quite helpful. If I were getting paid to do this--if I were literally employed to be a mother to these two children--I would, out of a sense of integrity and duty, give not a second thought to plopping the little guy on the swing and helping him have some fun. After all, someone would be paying me to do it; my time would not be my own; I would be on someone else's clock.

It has only recently occurred to me that my staying home full time is, in our culture, just as much a choice as working out in the world in some professional capacity. I decided to do this. I had forgotten this somewhere along the way. In my former life, I took all the paid jobs I worked quite seriously, and tried to be conscientious about doing only tasks relevant to my position while "on the clock." I organized more than one office in disarray; made thousands of photocopies; set up programs that I hoped would be enriching; and taught and counseled a couple hundred kids, most of whom I don't see anymore. I made some money that is probably all spent at this point, and learned some useful life-lessons.

If I approach my work as a mother with the same integrity, I must realize that here at home I am not on my own clock either. My heavenly Employer asks me to be fully present to my children to the best of my ability, rather than sticking to a rigid agenda of "things to get done" and responding to them with absent "mmm hmms" and nods. I get paid in my baby's belly laughs and my two year old's sweet words: "Mommy, I like reading books with you." I have to cling to these when my baby is wailing and overtired and my two year old is screaming "NOOO!" to my polite request that he use the bathroom before his nap. Certainly any employee has to overlook the not-so-savory qualities of the others she is working with; most people would be out of a job if they threw in the towel the moment someone at work annoyed them.

On-going job training is key in the mothering business: it starts with daily prayer and Scripture and branches out into spiritual reading, parenting books, spousal consultations, and even S.O.S. phone calls to other trusted moms. The more training I get, the higher my pay, as my eyes are opened to who my children are right now and how I can best love, serve, and teach them. Their sweetness becomes all the more apparent and carries me through the low times.

Of course, there are places where the analogy just falls through. Sick days come to mind. Oh how wonderful it would be to have someone just whisk the little ones away for a bit while mommy goes about resting and recovering. (Sometimes I wonder if this momentary respite from the mommy job wouldn't speed my recovery along--I feel like even a little cold just drags on and on now that I have babies to keep caring for.)

For the most part, though, the analogy works, and it has been helping me approach my role at home with a new level of enthusiasm, and a new realization of just how much energy it actually takes to "be at home with the children." The next time someone asks me what I do, I will not use the words "I'm just at home." I am 100% sure this job is tougher and more emotionally and psychologically challenging, and requires more creativity, than any other one I have ever had in the working world. I am not sure how to convey that in a short, casual, small-talk-esque response, but I will be working on it--off the mommy clock, of course!

Along the road of motherhood

The warm weather and blue sunny skies seem like they’re here to stay, the flowers on the trees have been replaced by green leaves, but the wind is still a bit cool–it’s May, which means graduation season! We’ve been to three graduations in the past three weeks: my classmates’ from the John Paul II Institute for Marriage and family, my sister’s at Mason, and Michael’s sister at UVA. (Many congratulations are in order!) Other “May milestones” that have been added to the mix are my first “baby-out-of-the-womb” Mother’s Day as well as Gabriel’s 9 month birthday on May 17. All these piled together have inspired me to reflect a bit on the contrasts between my academic life and my life as a mother.

The graduation I attended at the John Paul II Institute “should have been” my graduation, had I continued along the traditional Master’s in Theology program path. I took a year off after Gabriel was born and will be returning to finish in the Fall semester, so I will be studying with a whole new group of fellow students. The dear folks who were graduating were my classmates during my first year of the program, people who have become the kind of friends who just “get” where I’m coming from, who I don’t have to explain myself to in moments of joy or crisis. As I was sitting there during the Graduation Mass, I did not in any way regret that I missed out on “our” second year together–instead I was realizing how much harder these last nine months have been for me than any other nine academic months I’ve ever had.

In general, I found academia to be quite “easy”–in that starting around 6th grade I pretty much understood what needed to get done and did it, and that continued the same way for the next nine-odd years of my academic career. Yes, it required some amount of suffering, self-discipline, and sacrifice, but in the end, all of that was for the benefit of my own growth in knowledge and skill. At certain points along the way–6th grade, 8th grade, 12th grade, college–I was rewarded and applauded for all of my hard work by graduation ceremonies, robes that made all my striving seem to have come to some kind of official culmination, speakers who shared wise (or not so wise) words about the meaning of it all and exhorted us onwards and upwards, awards, and gatherings of friends and family who commended me for my efforts. Not to mention all those handy lines that accumulated on my resume so that the whole world would recognize all those hours of studying, thinking, and reading.

Motherhood, on the other hand, is something I am doing without that secure feeling that I already know the rules of the game, and without knowing how things will turn out in the end if I work as hard as I should. I have some ideas about how things theoretically should go with mothering, based on my reflections on my faith, what seems intuitively right, and what seems to have worked for others. But there’s a great big cloud of unknowns surrounding all of this, because the results of my efforts are not as clear as getting a good grade on a test, and do not come as quickly. This is difficult for me, as someone who has a record of giving up on things that do not come quite as easily to me as academics. I’d like to hope that motherhood is shaping my personality for the better in this area, since I don’t think I’ll be giving up on it any time soon.

Mothering, while certainly a vocation that has filled my life with an underlying joy and peace, has also filled my life with so many little sacrifices and sufferings that are completely for the good of another. Yes, I have been doing some things here and there for the good of others much throughout all my life, but it’s been sporadic at best, limited to volunteer commitments or spontaneous goodwill towards friends and family. Motherhood, on the other hand, has put this cute (and sometimes not so cute) little person right smack down in front of me, 24-7, and much of the time I’m the only one who can provide what he needs in terms of survival, emotional support, recreation, and mobility. If I don’t do it, no one else will. In a sense, the structure of motherhood creates sacrifices that are more readily, and hopefully, more charitably made because the need is so immediate and so compelling. And for the most part, no one throws a robe around your shoulders and commends you at an official ceremony for all your hard work and dedication to furthering goodness in the world. Talk about a perfect recipe for holiness! (In all fairness, I do have to say that my husband, as well as friends and family, give me a good amount of encouragement along the way–little thank you’s and pick me ups that keep me going in the day to day life of mommyhood. I think what I’m reflecting on here is more the world at large’s recognition of the accomplishments of motherhood.)

I been pondering what a graduation speaker might say to me after these nine months of mothering Gabriel. I decided that writing a graduation speech free of cliche and worn-out sayings is task that I don’t have time for at the moment, and besides, I don’t think nine months after having my first child qualifies me as any sort of distinguished expert, even in giving advice to myself! So I’ve gone another route, in the spirit of one of the graduation speakers at UVA who went through a list of thought provoking statistics. Here are my own, roughly calculated, mommy statistics. In the past nine months, I have:

...changed (& washed & dried) 1,500 diapers
...nursed Gabriel for 700 hours
...walked 270 miles with baby G in the sling or stroller
...put Gabriel in and out of his carseat: 250 times
...watched Gabriel fall asleep: 1,000 times
...run after squirrels to amuse Gabriel: 60 times
...laughed at Gabriel laughing, smiling, or doing something adorable: so many times
...reflected in joy and awe with Michael, “I can’t believe we have a son!”: countless times

Here's to many more!