Fear Not A Personal Formation

Currently, I am in training to become a catechist, a Maria Montessori based religious leader that follows the principles and training guidelines of the Catechesis of the Good Shepherd organization. It may sound like a mouthful to one that is uninformed of this method, so for more info go to www.cgsusa.org In order to become a catechist for children of the ages of 3-6, I have to complete 5 full weekend training sessions spread out over a year. Today I completed my 3rd weekend of training.
Friday was the beginnning of this weekend's training. In all honesty to myself and to those who may read, I was not feeling the excited desire to do the training at this moment in time. I have been pooped. The last 2weeks have been very busy and I have had only 2 nights at home in the past 14 to simply be. I like moments of being where there are no plans but to sit in the middle of the playroom and let my children literally walk on me. We only have those years for so long as it is, and I simply felt too busy of late. However, as I am trying to teach my 5 year old son, we don't go thru life only doing things we "want" to do. I committed to catechesis for others, myself, and God and I would be there. It was my responsibility for this time frame.
Well, God sure does have a sense of humor when it came to the complacency of my heart. A few weeks ago I knew my husband would be going out of town on saturday morning of the training. This departure burdened me for this particular time because I wanted to be able to leave my children with my better half so I could restfully soak up lessons in the atrium. This bit of peace was removed with his departure because I had to manage childcare and manage my own mental pre-occupaton of my children in childcare.
Besides his departure, I also blew my back out on Friday morning. So now, did I not only have to sit it utter pain with every move of my body, but I had to sit on a hard rug and hard chair for the entire training and be the sole parent at home to pick up and hold the parasite I call my daughter.
Ironically so, I was attempting to be at peace with myself and with my children during all of this time because I was trying to implement the peaceful and restful environment and countenance that allows children to thrive so well within the atrium. Yet now I had to try even harder because I was in physical pain, was alone, and was mentally distracted by my various parenting obligations.
On Saturday evening, I came home feeling emotionally and spiritually drained. I probably resembled a zombie, but somewhere in the midst of this minor exhaustion, God reminded me again to try to be loving, peaceful, and not-irritable in my home. The children got to bed smoothly and I then praised God for my cocktail while heating my back. I went to bed that night contemplating the parable of the sower and searching my heart and mind for that atrium like peace.
When I awoke on Sunday to use the restroom before returning to bed, I reminded myself to try again to prepare my environment and my heart to encounter my children in peace. This is when God sat back and laughed and said, well let's try this one then. It was about that time when my 5 year old boy enters my bedroom and the first thing he says is "I'm sorry". Oh great. What has happened? He then goes on to explain that he pooped in his pants and tried to clean it up himself by putting the poop in the trashcan and then wiping himself with toilet paper which he then puts in the trash can. He then self-discloses that he could not get all the poop off his legs and that he did not get the poop in the trash can. If he is admitting this, I know it must be bad. I get out of bed. Throw on clothes and enter the haz mat zone. Not only did he clearly miss the trash can, but this day happens to include the biggest poop I have ever seen come out of his little body. All the while M is screaming for me to get her out of her bed. I then ask H if he has washed his hands as I am looking at an entire roll of marked paper in the trash. Of course not. I think "oops I forgot" were his words.
After I bathe H, calm my gag reflex, and get M out of her crib, we carry on with our usual breakfast routine. As I am cleaning up breakfast, I again remind myself of the environment I am trying to create and the countenance I want to convey to my children of love and peace, that catechesis teaches so beautifully. It could not have been more than 60 seconds from that thought when I hear my visiting mother say, "oh it looks like we have some crumbs on the floor we need to clean up." At this point I just should have laughed hysterically at God's sense of humor: my son had dumped onto the floor all the ground egg shells from my montessori based lesson of mortar and pestle. This is one of M's toys not H's and he has never even touched these items since we have owned them. Maybe H and I had a special Montessori brain connection at the moment of my prayer and his moment to decide to choose that work, but I think there is more to this than that.
I later reflected on my weekend and realized that amidst the conundrum and complacent feelings, God is still at work with me. He can work amidst all my distractions to move in me and to love me, and He can lead me to the still water of writing this blog and understanding Him even though I hardly felt like I had the time to breathe. This recognition can then permeate into my work within the atrium. I do not have to "feel" on or good or joyful or even focused for God to use me and others in the atrium. We are all broken vessels that thru our brokenness God reveals his completeness and true light and life. We can then simply step back and say thank you Lord for meeting me here. Thank you that I do not have to fear. Amen.

Nothing good happens after midnight

The phrase "nothing good happens after midnight" took all new meaning for me when I had my first child. I heard this phrase in college and I think we can all understand why, but as a parent the view of it shifts. When H and M were newborns and needed to be fed or changed in the night it felt at that moment that the world was going to end. Some mothers and daddies find the middle of the night feeding sweet and bonding. I was not one of them. I felt I could bond just as well and sweetly in the middle of the day. Even after the nightly feedings have ended this phrase now takes on a different meaning.
All parents hope that their children will be bright. As comedian Brian Regan expressed, when was the last time you heard a campaign that opposed children learning to read. Anyway, I digress. I do want my children to be bright, but as I said prior, nothing good happens after midnight even if it involves the brightness of your child.
We have undertaken the journey to get H out of pull-ups at night. This is mostly because he has developed a laziness toward using the potty when he is fully awake, yet has his pull-up on. I believe he is too old and competent for this. I may eat my words after this 2 week trial is over. Last night was our first night of night time potty training. He did not drink much after 6. He went to the restroom at 7 and at 10:30 and all was swell until I hear M doing her deathly scream at 1:15 AM. She has not felt well so comforting her was not such a big deal to me as I walked to see her. However, such comfort turned to anger when I go back to the kids adjacent rooms and see lights on as if it is Chevy Chase's Christmas vacation home. The bathroom lights were on with door open. H's door was open with all 3 lamps on and H was nowhere to be found. I looked in the bathroom and in his bed. Nothing. I came back to my room thinking we missed each other in our walks. nothing. I return to his room to find him hidden behind his armoire working on a 60 piece USA puzzle. I peak around the corner at him and he immediately says, "I have got to finish putting these pieces in." My first response is total silence and to get daddy, for in the meantime M is still screaming her lungs out for Chevy Chase has disrupted her beauty sleep.
J with tough love coerces H back to his bed and we hear nothing of him until 6am. At that moment he immediately finished the puzzle and prepared for his busy day where he will throw a tired induced fit at me come 1pm. I will then try to explain to him that puzzles are great things to work on, but nothing is worth working on after midnight.

Ignorance is Bliss

There is new meaning to "ignorance is bliss": if my son were ignorant, I would be able to fulfill vain fantasies of drinking a daiquiri by the poolside while reading a fictional novel. Instead, I answer at least 200 hundred questions a day that start with "why" and "I wonder" following his favorite word, "mommy". These questions can be as silly as "why is your cup blue?" As embarrassing as stating in front of the toothless cashier at the drugstore, "mommy, I wonder why he has no teeth?" Again as embarrassing as saying in front of co-eds at the beach, "mommy, why did those girls buy shirts that are too small for them?". Then I have the memorable questions too that make my impatience with the questioning phase worthwhile: this question requires some scenery. Sunday morning at the beach, H started to throw up and dry heave. As he was hugging the toilet and I was holding him, he said, "mommy, is God still in my heart?". I said, of course he is. He then said "doesn't the throw up go past your heart?" I then gave him a talk on esophagal anatomy and he felt better. They say Einstein asked a lot of questions, but on this end I wonder what his mother was like.

Play Dates

Well, I went to my first organized playdate ever with M this morning. I left confused as to the function and benefits of it. It seemed M liked it. After she ate a snack she ran around, climbed up slides, and ate dirt. I know the organization of the meeting was not necessary for her, even though unbeknownst to her I wish she would jump out of her appropriate developmental stage and become best friends with one girl there. Instead she just sneezes on her. Anyway, I digress. M could play with a rock right now or just a slide. Other children at a park and not in a more structured school setting are the same to her as sticks and stones. She learns nothing different or better from them than an ant on the grass. The group is for me. I need personal contact and social interaction with other mothers. Or maybe I do not. We are all created to need people, but in this day and age I am not sure it has to be other mothers....

This group has a very good intention. It was my first meeting so maybe I am being too harsh, but I find this to be true at any meeting organized around children. We only speak of our children, we rarely listen to others, and we don't tell the honest to goodness truth: that we mostly feel like we are hardly surviving in this thing we call motherhood. Most honest mothers that I speak with are full of doubt, worry, guilt, and self-consciousness. Yet, when we arrive at a group setting that has an open forum for discussion about our needs, we shut down like a clam.
Why are mothers not able to unite and confess weaknesses amongst each other when we know most of us go home and wonder if we are or will do the "right" thing? My theory is that we are at our primary emotional state simply fearful. Fearful of being wrong. Fearful of being imperfect. Fearful of being looked down upon. At that base of fear each mother must ask what am I afraid of, what fear drives me, and what am I trying to prove? The fear in some sense has become an idol or created an idol in our hearts. With such fear we shut down and don't become our open real selves with others. Mothers need that honesty just as much as I do.

I believe my fear derives from a sinful need to be right. This rightness could be interchanged with perfection. My sinful need to be perfect. The reasons I think I have a desire to be right goes too far into my psychoanalysis for this blog. But if there is anything I could say to myself and to other moms out there it would be to just try to chill, go with the flow, enjoy your children, and admit your mistakes and struggles. I need to hear them to help me with my struggles. Hearing struggles and mistakes also brings people together. It lets me know I have someone in the same boat, and therefore, it unifies us. Mothers need uniting not separation.

If anyone reads this and is interested in literature on the mommy culture of this day and age, I have some great recommendations: Myth of the Perfect Mother, Perfect Madness: Motherhood in the Age of Anxiety, How Children Raise Parents, and Blessings of a Skinned Knee.
Since H was born I have wanted to start my own play group from 3-5 pm or 4-6 pm. The witching hours are a hard time of the day for me and I just seem to look at the clock waiting for J to come home. But the meeting would have certain rules. Talking about children and parenting is off limits for the first 4 meetings until we get to know each other as women. Brutal honesty is required. Then talking of parenting is still limited because I want to talk about pop culture, news, religion, and politics. Interaction with our children is also limited to preventing physical harm or injury. I feel I get enough talk of parenting with random people to supply that need but the need for intellectual stimulation is not being met and I wish it could be met with women who are in the same realm of life as me. And the last rules would be to listen to others and leave judgments at the door. If I have any takers, you know where to find me. At 5pm I will be outside watching M pick roses and H pick his nose.

Back to Normal

Well, whatever normal may mean to my family is what we are all back to around here. My normal is not your normal and it never will be. In fact, I do not like that word at all because it conveys that there is a certain way we are all supposed to be, and that is just too much pressure. So maybe it is better to say my family is back to its regular routine. Because I am not so sure it is normal that we are having to discipline H for peeing in his drinking cup in his bathroom.

M seems back to her usual self. She was quite confused for a while once I returned. Oh, and was she mad at momma. She wanted nothing to do with me while J was around, so I just went with the flow. I knew once he went back to work that all would change eventually so why stress about it then. In fact, J was sad I was home too because he and M had bonded so much and had only each other that it was so special for him. I am glad for those moments. Wives and moms don't seem to let go of the reigns of control enough to let men feel and see that they can manage and handle the home on their own. Therefore, men begin to feel incompetent and as if they are strangers in their own homes. Then it leads to a nasty cycle where when they do try to help they only get reprimanded, so they don't help because why help if you are only going to get in trouble. But then women may hold grudges for dads not helping and get more upset and the cycle gets worse and worse. So in essence, I was glad J was able to feel so confident about his Mr. Mom abilities. In fact, he taught me some new tricks with the kids. It is such a relief to truly feel like I have a partner in this thing called raising children where it really is the blind leading the blind.

H seems to have jumped right back into his groove. The night I got home he still wanted to leave and play with his friends and "mommy" has become his favorite word again. Maybe all 4 year olds are like this, I am not sure, but he is simply non-stop. One request after another with questions the whole way: when, what, how, why. I need patience tattooed on my eyeballs as well as a running encyclopedia.

I feel good. I feel the same as usual. I still need a catnap every afternoon when my body crashes, but so does the entire Hispanic culture. It was hard re-adjusting especially with M being so mobile and active, but I love eating all foods again and I am so happy my body scan came back with a positive result. The only "activity" was seen in my neck which is what the doctors had hoped for. I return to my doc next month to check my hormone levels and then after that I will get blood drawn in 6 months to make sure no thyroid cells remain in my body. If they do, then I am not sure what follows. For now, I am just praying they don't return.


“The only normal people are the ones you don't know very well.”

Napalm in the morning

Thursday and Friday

I think I may know what napalm in the morning smells like, and, no, this has nothing to do with living with 2 boys after a Fiber One breakfast.  This has to do with the smell of the radiation seeping through my skin during my first night in the hospital.  After drinking 300oz of water the previous day, my body decided to emit the liquids through my skin as well as my urine. So I awoke in the middle of the night with full body sweats. The radiation was eeping through my skin and it smelled like a strange metal. I was thankful then that I was alone in my bed and room.

That next day I again woke with the mission to drink lots and lots of fluids, so I did.  I became quite acquainted with my commode and the loud sound of a commercial toilet. I felt for the poor soul in the room next to me who had to hear that sound two times in a row every 30 minutes.  In between potty breaks, I read, talked on the phone, watched TV, and waited on hospital food. It was sort of like I was grounded or in prison, but without bars to see out, a roommate, or recess time.  So more like a glorified solitary confinement. That was the extent of what I did for 3 days.

Some Things I have Re-Realized or Learned

As you could imagine, I have had constant thoughts since I was released. I have had euphoric moments of realization or sorrowful moments of my cancerous reality. But any way I slice it, my mind is full.  Part of this cerebrality is intentional. If I am going to be put through a fire, I better come out in the end having learned a few things.  I also see it as a choice: I can either choose, like Christ, to be the victor or I can choose to be the victim. And with as much counseling as I have done or as I have received, the benefits of maintaining a victorous soul and outlook way outweigh the costs of being the victim.

Anyway, here are some of the things I have learned this week 

1. Life is precious.
2. Parenting is a privilege not a duty.
3. An ounce of action beats a ton of words.
4. Cheesy CD infomercials can lift your spirits when all you have heard is terrible television for 3 days.
5. I have so much to be thankful for, my health included, and my citizenship in this country where I have the freedom to worship and dance and where I have great medical care. 
6. I must raise my children to be activists who care about the sufferings of this world like hunger, illness, hatred and violence rather than their stock portfolios, their waistlines, and their standing at church.
7. I am thankful for my unbelievable husband. I thank the Lord for him and our marriage daily. I don't think I could have felt or thought so freely this week without resting in his love for me and our children. The joy of not having to worry about him with our tykes this week is immeasureable.
8. I am thankful for my children. I am blessed. Better me to be unhealthy than them.  They are amazing children who above all I hope can know and sense the love of Christ for them through my unconditional love.  He is the God of grace who I pray they come to know.
9. I am thankful for my friends and family. I hope when the rubber hits the road that I can be as loving to them as they have been to me.
10. Last but not least, my mother.  We have our differences and can get on each other's nerves, but because of her: I know love.  I know what it means to be a servant. And I don't ever have to wonder where I stand. She is not judgmental. She sees everyone as an equal and she has a heart of gold, but yet can still speak her mind. She does my dirty work and my family's dirty work, and even if she is not thanked, she comes back the next day to do it again with a sense of humor.  By example, she has taught me to put other's before myself. I had no control over who my mother was and I thank God daily that it was her.  


Ok. Ok. Enough of the cheesy stuff. I am off to my body scan. The last big hurdle and then I re-unite with my family. Toodles. 

P.S. For a funnier entry read the next one.

Sand: the organic snack

I’ve hacked my wife’s blog and I thought I’d put in a little word from Mr. Mom.

Highest Compliments:

Over the past few months we’ve been patiently teaching H to say “Yes Mam” and “Yes Sir” to adults. It used to annoy me slightly when he confused the two and said “Yes Mam” to me. I noticed this week that I stopped correcting this mistake as I subconsciously see this reference as a badge of honor. Someone once said that “Mother is the name for God on the hearts and lips of children.” H was simply letting me know I was aptly performing my newly assumed responsibilities.

Subtle Changes:

Kids notice these subtle changes. Last week at H’s soccer practice the coach didn’t show up. I reluctantly stepped in when I noticed all the parents standing around staring at each other. I know just a little more about soccer than the five year olds, but I quickly discovered, that was enough. I had two of the kids (Corvin & Jimmy) lined up on the sidelines doing kicking lessons next to H. After a few rounds of this, H looked a me quizzically and said, “Are you the coach dad?” “Sort of” I responded. His little bow wrinkled up and he said, “Are you still my dad?” I laughed and said, “Of course buddy, I’ll always be your dad.” H looking more confused said, “Are you Corvin’s and Jimmy’s dad too?”

Anyway, I thought I would share a few of the things I have learned this week about being a single parent. It may not seem like much, but for me, these realizations were life changing:

Notes on useful products:

Why has Fisher Price not discovered that the plastic cell phone look-a-likes adorned with Elmos and Barneys are condemned as frauds by kids after a 30 second trial, while my Blackberry can satiate my toddler for hours upon end? Just take the old used Blackberry’s and put them back into service Mr. Fisher Price toy making guy (patent idea #1).

Hair bows and barrettes are not just for show, they can also serve to keep bangs from forming a permanent adhesion with the dried snot in a toddler’s nose.

Dried snot is a much stronger, more permanent adhesive than Bond’s Gorilla Glue (patent idea #2) .

If Honda would make an Odyssey that came equipped with a fold out changing table in the front passenger seat, I would buy it tomorrow (patent idea #3).

Notes on food:

Sand is basically an organic laxative when eaten in large quantities. It also causes severe diaper rash.

Dog food is actually a pretty healthy snack for any child. If they like it and the dogs don’t seem to mind…why fight that battle?

Notes on attraction:

Any woman that can extract my child from her leech-like suction to my hip and hold her for a while without causing her to scream for me I find wildly attractive. This holds true for the 21 year old pregnant woman at the gym to the Queen Latifah double at the grocery store to the 85 year old woman at the back of the church. If I were a single man…

Any woman who allows her child to throw up on my child while attempting to give my child a toddler embrace should be thrown directly into the fiery pits of Hell for potentially contaminating my household with a virus that might send my teetering patience and limited endurance straight to the grave.

Notes from the brink:

Lastly. There is no tired like Mom-tired. My back and biceps are constantly aching from the side-cant pose required to hold onto this beautiful leech-like creature while performing other tasks. My mind is constantly racing from the stress of wondering what to do next on the schedule, what to feed these tiny beasts who seem perfectly content one minute and then ravenously hungry the next, what cleaning and chores I can accomplish during naptime, etc, etc. Sometimes I long for the next naptime and then as soon as I put H and M down for naps I have this lost feeling and wish they were awake. I end up spending the whole two hours waiting for them to wake up so I can see them, hug them, and play with them again.

Thank you Moms for having us. Thank you Moms for giving up your dreams to raise us, care for us, keep us safe, and unconditionally loving us. Thank you Moms for who you are and all the seemingly unimportant and unnoticed tasks you perform to make our lives run like a finely tuned race car.

“Youth fades; love droops; the leaves of friendship fall; A mother’s secret hope outlives them all.”

- J out.