One of THOSE days

Some days I am just not sure I am doing this parenting thing right. Should I let her just cry herself back to sleep, or should I go in and hold her? Does he really need to nurse or does he just want to and does it matter? Is it okay to swat her hand when she smacks her brother with a toy or does that totally defeat the purpose? Am I introducing solids too soon? He's so darn skinny and I'm just not sure he's getting enough breastmilk.

I want a little mommy angel on my shoulder to whisper in my ear. This is a dang hard job. I know that loving them is the most important thing, but the worrier in me OFTEN overcomes the peacefulness in me and I reach my limit of times I am able to just let go and say, "Jesus, I Trust in You". I guess that is where God's mercy has to flood in because I am just too weak and all the advice in all the parenting books in the world couldn't make me feel less uncertain during these moments.

I know what you will say, you mommies out there--this is normal, trust my instincts, there is no one right way, follow my heart, etc. etc. etc. But sometimes, I'll be completely honest with you, I just want God to write it on the wall what I'm supposed to do, because I just don't know and I want to run screaming for the hills.

I really thought I would love being a mom more than I do. I love my children wholeheartedly and I believe without a doubt that God has called me to this vocation, and furthermore I do not believe in waiting around thinking it will all be perfect one day. What I think about this situation is that God has presented me with an opportunity to unite myself to Him in these struggles, and what an honor that He trusts me with this particular cross to bear!

I do not feel sad and discouraged every day, or most days. I feel happy a lot. I have SO MUCH JOY at times. But I would be lying to say it comes easily to me, this mommy thing. Today has just been one of those days.

sweEATy

Bib I knitted for Joshua

In the five months we have been graced with the presence of our little Joshua, he has had exactly 1.5 "bad days". He is sweetness embodied. His dimpled smiles melt hearts everywhere and his giggles send me into rapture. I could not have imagined up a more delightful child. That being said...

It was love at first banana. When the kid has food in front of him--no, when the kid has a bib put on him--wait, really all I have to do is put him in his highchair, and he becomes Insatiababy. Mealtime goes something like this: Eyes wide, focused on the spoonful of food. Arms flailing wildly in excitement (sometimes knocking the food off the spoon or the spoon out of my hand). Legs kicking, kicking, kicking (again sometimes dislodging the food or spoon onto the floor, me, or him). Impatient "Mmmm Mmmm Mmmm" or "Uh-uh-uh"s. Joshua: Let's practice my spitting with this mouthful of sweet potatoes. I caught mommy off guard and she is looking at me in shock, covered in a thousand tiny droplets of spit-sweet-potato. Wait, I wanted that bite. Can I have it back?

The very first time I ever heard Joshua scream was the first time I reached the end of his rice cereal. Now I dread the last spoonful and the empty bowl and scramble to find a distraction just to avoid the predictable fat lower lip and instantaneous tears. Thing is, if I feed him until he's ready to stop, I'm guaranteed to see the food again. I know this because I've made this mistake more than once with him.

This is not a bad problem to have. It does, however, stand in stark contrast to the eating habits of my 2-year-old.

IN OTHER NEWS:

God just blessed me with a little gift in my hectic day.

I am behind in my catechetical work. The lesson plans I am writing will arrive in time for the teachers to teach the classes, but not much sooner unfortunately. I worry that my work does not satisfy those I am trying to help. Just now I was sitting here nursing Joshua, thinking about my work and worrying. Then I looked at him, all curled up in my arms, warm and happy, I realized that he is perfectly satisfied at this moment, and I helped him feel that way, and whatever else comes my way today I was able to give that security and peace to a little one. Thank you, Lord. May all I do today give you glory.

Here is a link relative to this topic that I found while searching for Mother Teresa quotes for work.

Confessions of an Average Mom

I pick at my son's cradle cap. Once I start, I'm hooked and I can't stop (until he gets squirmy).

I keep my daughter's mouth busy with snacks in the car so she won't scream bloody murder and scare brother and give mommy a headache and make mommy mad.

In desperation I have let my daughter play with the following items: my cell phone, my land phone, my laptop, my wallet, my checkbook, my car keys (think panic button pressed over and over), a roll of toilet paper, a box of kleenex, paperback books...it goes on and on.

My daughter eats a lot of peanut butter.

I'm good at fake sleeping. (That's all I'll say; you'll have to deduce the rest.)

I don't cloth diaper. (I'd like to, but I've just never gotten started with it and quite frankly I LIKE wrapping the poop up in the diaper and throwing the whole business out.)

When I'm working I'm thinking about how I should be playing with my kids and when I'm playing with my kids I'm thinking about work.

To Be Continued...

Happy Birthday Grace Marie!

Newborn

Today

When I turn my mind from the everyday and really stop and put life with Grace in perspective, my heart fills to overflowing with love and gratitude for the life of my little girl. (Sometimes the overflow squeezes out my eyes.)

Today our special little girl is two years old. We never could have dreamed on that cold cold night in February when she was born in the little cabin in Kingman what a journey we were beginning with her!

We were nervous of course. I remember Paul staying up all night with her the first night, just to be sure she kept breathing. As I lay in bed, drifting in and out of sleep, I heard him praying with her and singing his own version of the popular James Blunt song "You're Beautiful". We were just a pair of proud, happy parents. We adored our little seven-pound package of sweetness.

At five weeks came 'The Big Reveal'. Grace and I had been having some trouble with nursing. She was only a few ounces over her birth weight. I had been to see a La Leche leader and started pumping to increase my milk supply, but I decided to visit the lactation specialist at Wesley as well. The doctor in charge of that department had been a pediatrician for thirty years. She was the one who told me that day that she was near certain Grace had Down Syndrome. Having no point of comparison, we hadn't really found her short, stubby fingers (fondly referred to as her 'little sausages') or the different shape of her eyes, or her generally small features to be remarkable. There were many tears for me, and much uncertainty for all of us.

We also learned that day that Grace had a significant heart murmur, indicative of a congenital heart defect (or two as it turned out). One BT shunt surgery, one heart catheterization, and one open heart surgery later, Gracie is all better. Those experiences are a whole 'nother story.

Every child's life is precious, and perhaps parents who have struggles less life-threatening than our own love their children just as fiercely and dearly as we love our Gracie, but perhaps, just perhaps, our appreciation for her life is surpassing because of the struggles God has chosen us to bear. Even if this is not so, my gratitude to God surpasses what it would have been had He blessed us with a 'normal' child.

So Happy Birthday, my Special Dear One, and may mommy and daddy always be thankful (especially on those days when you make mommy feel crazy) for the blessing we have in you!

Little joys to keep me going

Grace and mommy read Morning Prayer together, and mommy (for once) doesn't lose her cool just because Grace is grabbing the prayer book. Grace points along as mommy reads the prayers aloud, her little chubby finger bobbing up and down on the book leaving spitty marks.

We go downstairs so mommy can work at her desk (We don't have living room furniture anymore but I have my desk back!) and Grace is able to slide her way down the basement stairs all by herself with no help from mommy (other than mommy hovering behind her just in case).

I am working at the computer and hear Joshua's gasp-y baby laugh and I turn around to see Grace laying on top of him, pulling up his shirt, and kissing his tummy ("Mmmmmmuh!").

Mommy catches Grace reading "Frosty the Snowman" to Joshua. Later mommy is nursing Joshua and Grace brings "Frosty the Snowman" to mommy to read/sing. Mommy starts singing and Joshua stops nursing to look up at mommy and smile a big smile.

It is naptime and Grace snuggles up in my lap and takes my hands to fold them in front of her before we sing "Hail Mary".

Joshua is sleeping peacefully in my arms as I type, having just finished a mid-nap snack.

The Racecar Driver Within

Have you ever seen the Goofy cartoon where he is a mild-mannered man in a suit and tie and spectacles but when he gets behind the wheel of a car his face contorts and his business attire flies off and he turns into Mr. Wheeler, speeding along in his roadster and nobody better get in his way? I saw it a handful of times when I was a kid and I guess it made an impression.

So here is my confession: I love to drive fast, and I love fast cars, and furthermore I like to find a good driving song I can sing along to and blast the stereo with the bass turned up loud enough so I can feel it. What is it about flying down the road with music blaring that makes me feel so ALIVE? I find it exhilarating to be pushed back in my seat by the force of the car accelerating rapidly. I prefer the inside lane of a curve. I don't think this condition is rare, just perhaps rare for a mommy. Maybe someone else would like to confess?

Now, I never do this with my kids in the car of course. It is reserved for those rare moments when this crazy, wilder side of me--which is usually buried deep in the recesses of my self--can emerge on account of my being alone. When I am driving with my two little precious bundles in the back, "Mrs. Wheeler" sometimes speaks to me, saying things like, 'Don't let that person pass you! Box them out!' or 'Turn up the radio and step on the gas, would ya?!' But my better sense wins, at least until I have a moment alone again...

I owe my brother Joe for helping me 'dispose of' the one material possession for which I had what may have been an unhealthy love--my Camaro. Those close to me have seen me go all dreamy-eyed at the mere mention of this car. I will spare you the details for fear of lapsing into a semi-conscious state while I need to be caring for my children.

Right now Grace is pulling apart the vacuum; specifically, she is trying to remove the rubber bumber on the front. She is yelling at the vacuum because she can't figure out how to get the dirt that she sees in the canister out to play with. THIS is my reality. And yet...

The desires of our heart are really a part of our desire for God. So, what is it about God that I am desiring when I am behind the wheel of the car?

A Small (or Not-So-Small) Accomplishment

Grace is very good about amusing herself most of the time. She will toddle off to her room and imagine up a game that usually involves the redistribution of her toys into boxes or bags. Sometimes she emerges from her room in a hat with a bag of something-or-other and goes around the corner into the kitchen waving bye-bye to me.

Yesterday she was playing happily in her room when I got up from nursing to go to Joshua's room for a diaper change (for him, not me, thank goodness--although some day the tables may be turned, poor kid). I peeked in as I was cruising by and stopped short. This is what I saw.


Believe it or not, I have been trying to show her how to pull things over to use as a stepping stool. As of this moment, I guess she finally got it! She couldn't quite get her leg up far enough to climb into her Pack'N'Play, which would have upset her because she would have been stuck in there. She did, however, proceed to carry her chair around the house, seeing what mischief she could find. Look out world!