“For this momentary light affliction is producing for us an eternal weight of glory beyond all comparison…” 2 Corinthians 4: 17
Anyone who has been to our house over the past couple of months can attest to the fact that life is a little bit nutty around here right now J We love life with three kids at home, and the big kids have been very sweet with their new baby sister, but we are definitely still working out the logistical details of our days! Mealtimes, bedtimes, and out-the-door times seem to be especially challenging for us, and there have been plenty of meltdowns, time-outs, and lost privileges between the two big kids.
I am not surprised that the addition of another child to our family has rocked the boat a little bit – this is how it’s supposed to be, right?! What I am surprised by is how easily I can become unhinged when the details of daily life seem to be conspiring against me. There’s nothing like a sink full of dirty dishes, a toddler who has just (purposely) spilled her bowl of cereal for the umpteenth time, or an inconsolable baby to make me feel desperate and alone. It is so easy to get lost in the crazy little details – the un-swept floors, the whining, the sorry condition of the kids’ bathroom – and to lose sight of the big picture. It is also very easy to start feeling sorry for myself and to notice all of the difficult parts of my day, when there are also plenty of good things that I have overlooked.
Thankfully, the following verse was brought to my attention a couple of weeks ago, and I can honestly say that it has saved me several times in moments of near insanity:
“For this momentary light affliction is producing for us an eternal weight of glory beyond all comparison…” 2 Cor 4: 17
When I take a step back to really think about what I am getting upset about, I realize that most of it is truly a momentary light affliction, and not something worth sacrificing my peace (or my family’s peace!) for. Yes, there are plenty of slightly traumatizing parts of being a mother. For example, a few weeks ago I took the big kids to Mass alone (Ed had been a lector the night before). Everything started out fine, but then my toddler started to scream about something and I took her to the cry room, leaving Christopher in the pew. When we came out for our second attempt in the church, the toddler started to scream again, only this time she was kicking and flailing as well. I made the “walk of shame” back to the cry room once more, flailing child in hand (the poor lady who had to get up every time we left the pew!), where my toddler proceeded to behave very, very badly. Once again, we made our way back to the pew – I couldn’t leave Christopher by himself for all of Mass! – and once again, my child began to have a fit. By the end of Mass, I had tears in my eyes and I was shaking all over. I can honestly say that being able to repeat the words “this momentary light affliction” saved me in that moment.
Each of us has our own list of slightly traumatizing mommy moments, and we live through them every day. Our families will never be perfect, nor will our days be free from conflict, but when we take a step back, most of our hardships truly are momentary and light. The house is a mess, but it will eventually be clean again. The kids whine all the time, but there will come a day when the kids won’t want to talk to us at all and we’ll wish that they were little again. Bedtime is chaotic and exhausting, but the kids will eventually fall asleep! The point is this: Many parts of our day can be hard to bear, but we must keep our focus on the reason that we do all of these things in the first place. We have taken on the vocation of beings wives and mothers, and we are working through daily life out of love for our families. We are raising our children to be responsible, kind, generous men and women of faith, and everything that we do day-to-day must work towards this goal. If we lose sight of this, then it is easy to get lost in the web of our daily lives.
God bless all of you as we near the end of this month of May, the month when we honor Our Blessed Mother, our perfect example of patience and humility. Mary, Mother of Hope, pray for us!
*Note: Many women (and some men, too!) struggle with post-partum depression, and this is very different from what I have talked about in this post. These mothers have tried everything that they know how to do to change their perspective, but it has not worked. Sometimes, medicine is necessary to restore the balance of chemicals in the brain and hormones in the body, along with counseling. Post-partum depression is a VERY serious condition, and the best thing that you can do for yourself, your baby, and your family is to seek medical attention immediately. There is no shame in seeking medical help - it is the responsible thing to do.
A recent dinner-time conversation:
Any of you who share my fascination with the four temperaments will appreciate this.
Me (hyperventilating at the sight of the pieces of five 60 piece jigsaw puzzles mixed up and strewn about the floor of our tiny living room): "I'm not interested in who did this, but I need everyone get to work cleaning it up immediately."
Bella (age 5, whose blood runs sanguine): "OK Mom, of course, but I prefer when the room is messed exactly like this because all the colors on the floor make me cheerful."
Lord help me to shepherd each one of my little varied personalities.
Boy 1: "I'm thinking of a number between ten thousand and 6 million."
Labels: kids say
|A Man may make a Remark (952)|
Ladies, I want to thank all of you for your words of advice regarding a possible milk allergy/sensitivity in my 3 month-old daughter, Caroline. After reading your experiences and doing some research of my own, I decided to go dairy-free about 10 days ago. I'm happy to report that Caroline's diapers have gone from being green poop at every changing, to now being mostly wet, and sometimes yellow poop - no more green diapers! It took about 5 days for this to happen, but to me it is incredible that just by cutting dairy out of my diet, there could be such a dramatic change!
Just over two weeks ago I started having some terrible stomach pains. Since my life on this blog is a bit of an open book, I will confess that I have had mild digestive problems for the past 10 years of my life. These issues escalated over Mother's Day weekend, and I found myself spending my Mother's Day and most of that following week in the hospital. I was discharged with some pain-killers, some medication to coat and ease my stomach, and no clear diagnosis. My stomach has felt pretty awful ever since.
And then on Thursday I received a call from my doctor that will forever change my life. The biopsy of my small intestine tested positive for Celiac Disease. I was shocked, and immediately sad because I knew what that meant. Goodbye to wheat, rye, barley, and oats. Goodbye to the comfort foods of holidays and special occasions. Goodbye to most, if not all, of my favorite recipes. I mourned, I cried, I called all my girlfriends to complain, and then I called a friend who has Celiac Disease. She assured me that my life is not over, I will find a new normal, I will stop dreaming about gluten, and in a few weeks I will start to feel a lot better.
And so today is Day 4 of my new gluten-free life. I will admit that five minutes does not pass without me thinking of food and what I cannot eat. I'm trying not to think about how my new diet is permanent. I'm taking it one day at a time, but I am dreaming about wheat based foods, including some of my favorites--pizza, pancakes, pasta and doughnuts. From what I read, gluten does that. It is like a drug, stimulating a part of the brain that craves for more. I eat and I feel full but my brain wants something more. I was told that in two weeks my brain will start to forget about gluten, the cravings will stop, and maybe the dreams will stop too.
I have spent most of the weekend researching gluten-free diets and food choices. I went to Whole Foods on Saturday night and spent $200 on gluten free baking flours and ingredients. I had to bake something, and I wanted it to be delicious. Baking something would be a small victory, a first step towards a new normal life.
At one point during my trip I wandered away from my cart in search of quinoa, and when I re-approached my cart I was shocked at what was inside. The contents looked nothing like what I normally purchase. Tapioca flour? Teff flour? Xanthum gum? Are these seriously real ingredients? I felt strange and sad. I tried really hard not to think about the permanent nature of my new diet. I distracted myself by adding sushi to my cart, and placing it in a very conspicuous location, and I continued shopping.
This morning I awoke and made gluten-free pancakes. They were good--not quite as good as my wheat based pancakes, but good enough. I smothered them with maple syrup and ate them until I felt full. And as I cleaned up the breakfast dishes I realized that I'm going to be ok. The pancakes were definitely good enough. I'll find other foods like the pancakes that are good enough. My life is going to feel normal again, and maybe sooner than I had originally thought.
You see, I already feel better. I'm not 100% percent, FAR from it, but I'm better in ways that I never thought were related to my stomach issues. Allow me to explain--
As we got ready for Mass this morning I realized that I forgot to make my coffee, again. I just didn't need it this morning, and I didn't need it on Saturday or Friday. I then realized I didn't have a headache on any of those days. Headaches normally motivate me to make coffee. I have not gone 3 days without a headache in at least a year. Maybe that's a coincidence, but probably not. My doctor told me that regular headaches are a symptom of Celiac Disease and I can't tell you how excited I am that mine seem to be gone!
And my allergies seem to have disappeared. A few months ago, I resorted to taking a daily allergy medication because my sneezing and wheezing were just that bad. But my seasonal allergies are now gone, and the change has happened almost overnight. Some of my joint pain is gone too. I had pain in my neck and back almost every day prior to my diagnosis. And it's gone. Maybe this is a placebo effect, but I'm loving it!
My gut is going to take a bit longer to heal, likely several months, but I trust it will heal in time. I'm praying the fatigue goes away too, and my doctor said it probably will.
And so tonight, for the first time, I'm ending my day thanking God that the sacrifices of the past few days have yielded such obvious fruit. The way I feel is motivating me to keep going, and I'm really curious to see what other minor health issues might disappear. For the first time in a long while I feel full of hope about my health. Celiac Disease in a gluten-loving world stinks, but tonight I am starting to see the silver lining, and I'm loving it.
Well my friends, this is the first goodbye to a beloved stroller in the life of our young family. The narrow sidewalks and high curbs of France finally snapped the frame beyond repair. Goodbye, fair stroller.
(With a grin and a double wink : ))
ODE TO OUR STROLLER (sung to the tune of "Danny Boy")
Peg Perego, your days with us were numbered.
Four years you've been our car, our guard, our friend.
The European cobblestone plus 75 pounds of children--
Your final triumph was your tragic end.
We'll ne'er forget your lightweight sturdy chic-ness;
Italian leather, red upholstery.
But most of all, the many happy memories:
Three kids, 6 homes, 5 countries--joy of family.
Forced to move on, in dire straits without you;
An odd French pram now tries to take your place.
Overweight, bulky, impractical and frumpy.
None other e'er will match your style and grace.
It just ain't right to send you to the village dump;
Your faithful frame, strewn down along the hill.
Your spirit soars, lives off beyond the rainbow,
In all my dreams and in my heart you're with us still.
My Bed is a Boat
My bed is like a little boat;
Nurse helps me in when I embark;
She girds me in my sailor's coat
And starts me in the dark.
At night I go on board and say
Good-night to all my friends on shore;
I shut my eyes and sail away
And see and hear no more.
And sometimes things to bed I take,
As prudent sailors have to do;
Perhaps a slice of wedding-cake,
Perhaps a toy or two.
All night across the dark we steer;
But when the day returns at last,
Safe in my room beside the pier,
I find my vessel fast.
Robert Louis Stevenson
Below is a post from our friend and classmate (visit her at her blog). She is, truly, a "builder" in spirit, I hope that you find all of her advice as helpful as I did! (Hi, Red here, reposting this because the links were not working earlier).
I buy a lot of organic produce for my family. The latest issue of Pediatrics just gave me another reason to justify the extra effort and $ it takes me to buy organic produce.
A study just published in the journal found that children age 8-15 with higher levels of organophosphate metabolites in their urine were significantly more likely to be diagnosed as having ADHD. You can read the study as published in Pediatrics here. What are organophosphates? They are neurotoxic chemicals used as pesticides on many fruits and vegetables sold in the US (also in some residential pesticides). As stated in the intro of the study, the major exposure to pesticides for infants and children is diet, and children are considered to be at greatest risk to these chemicals because their developing brain is more susceptible to neurotoxins and the dose of pesticides per body weight is likely to be larger.
Does this study conclusively say that pesticide exposure causes ADHD? No. More specific studies are needed to establish whether this association is causal and not just an association. However, the findings do suggest that organophosphate exposure, at levels common among kids in the US, may contribute to ADHD prevalence.
So what can we do about this? DON'T STOP FEEDING KIDS FRUITS and VEGGIES! Organic produce is grown without the use of pesticides and is available in many of the grocery stores we buy from anyway. Plus, the more we as consumers DEMAND organic produce, the more grocery stores will carry fruits and veggies grown this way! Also, as summer approaches, farmer's markets are a great place to buy produce because many of local farmers do not use pesticides (just ask!).
Do you have to start buying ALL organic? Probably not. Some fruits and veggies are (on average) more contaminated than others. You can learn more at Foodnews.org, the website of the Environmental Working Group or just click here for their handy shopper's guide (I carry it with me to the grocery store so I know what to splurge on and what to buy regular):
We can make a difference. Remember, we vote 3 times everyday with the food we buy and eat.
Press on Builders and buy organic produce!
10 days ago I went on a retreat. I hadn't been for 2 years, since I was pregnant with Incredibaby, so I was very much looking forward to it. As probably the most intensely introverted of the builder bunch, I was looking forward to the silence and solitude more than anything. 9 peaceful hours of quiet in the car by myself, my own little peaceful room and 3 days of silence and meditation. This was what I expected, what I had determined I needed.
Ladies, this is another personal favorite. It deals with the theme of "loneliness" and how it may seem sad on the surface, but if you scratch a little deeper it can often be empowering. I hope you enjoy it.
You're wondering if I'm lonely:
OK then, yes, I'm lonely
as a plane rides lonely and level
on its radio beam, aiming
across the Rockies
for the blue-strung aisles
of an airfield on the ocean.
You want to ask, am I lonely?
Well, of course, lonely
as a woman driving across country
day after day, leaving behind
mile after mile
little towns she might have stopped
and lived and died in, lonely
If I'm lonely
it must be the loneliness
of waking first, of breathing
dawn's first cold breath on the city
of being the one awake
in a house wrapped in sleep
If I'm lonely
it's with the rowboat ice-fast on the shore
in the last red light of the year
that knows what it is, that knows it's neither
ice nor mud nor winter light
but wood, with a gift for burning.
I don't link to the NYT very often, that's MaryAlice's job, but I'll make an exception for Ross Douthat. I thought this was an interesting piece regarding the economic and political state of affairs. Enjoy.
Many thanks to our readers' responses to my query for natural labor book recommendations. You all are fantastic!
Once again, I'm seeking the expert advise of all of you wonderful moms and dads out there. I'm wondering if any of you have discovered a milk sensitivity/allergy in your infant. If so, what were the symptoms in your infant, and how long did it take (after cutting milk proteins out of your diet) before you noticed an improvement?
Here is a favorite from my Latin American Studies days:
"I Was My Own Route"
I wanted to be like men wanted me to be:
an attempt at life;
a game of hide and seek with my being.
But I was made of nows,
and my feet level on the promissory earth
would not accept walking backwards
and went forward, forward,
mocking the ashes to reach the kiss
of new paths.
At each advancing step on my route forward
my back was ripped by the desperate flapping wings
of the old guard.
But the branch was unpinned forever,
and at each new whiplash my look
separated more and more and more from the distant
and my face took the expansion that came from within,
the defined expression that hinted at a feeling
of intimate liberation;
a feeling that surged
from the balance between my life
and the truth of the kiss of the new paths.
Already my course now set in the present,
I felt myself a blossom of all the soils of the earth,
of the soils without history,
of the soils without a future,
of the soil always soil without edges
of all the men and all the epochs.
And I was all in me as was life in me ...
I wanted to be like men wanted me to be:
an attempt at life;
a game of hide and seek with my being.
But I was made of nows;
when the heralds announced me
at the regal parade of the old guard,
the desire to follow men warped in me,
and the homage was left waiting for me.
Julia de Burgos (1914-1953)
...Texas Mommy and I thought we'd gather our six children (ages 6 and under), put them in a small chapel, and see if they could sit patiently and quietly through a baptismal liturgy for TEN babies. We'll let you use your imaginations for the outcome :)
Sarah Cynthia Sylvia Stout
Would not take the garbage out!
She'd scour the pots and scrape the pans,
Candy the yams and spice the hams,
And though her daddy would scream and shout,
She simply would not take the garbage out.
And so it piled up to the ceilings:
Coffee grounds, potato peelings,
Brown bananas, rotten peas,
Chunks of sour cottage cheese.
It filled the can, it covered the floor,
It cracked the window and blocked the door
With bacon rinds and chicken bones,
Drippy ends of ice cream cones,
Prune pits, peach pits, orange peel,
Gloppy glumps of cold oatmeal,
Pizza crusts and withered greens,
Soggy beans and tangerines,
Crusts of black burned buttered toast,
Gristly bits of beefy roasts. . .
The garbage rolled on down the hall,
It raised the roof, it broke the wall. . .
Greasy napkins, cookie crumbs,
Globs of gooey bubble gum,
Cellophane from green baloney,
Rubbery blubbery macaroni,
Peanut butter, caked and dry,
Curdled milk and crusts of pie,
Moldy melons, dried-up mustard,
Eggshells mixed with lemon custard,
Cold french fried and rancid meat,
Yellow lumps of Cream of Wheat.
At last the garbage reached so high
That it finally touched the sky.
And all the neighbors moved away,
And none of her friends would come to play.
And finally Sarah Cynthia Stout said,
"OK, I'll take the garbage out!"
But then, of course, it was too late. . .
The garbage reached across the state,
From New York to the Golden Gate.
And there, in the garbage she did hate,
Poor Sarah met an awful fate,
That I cannot now relate
Because the hour is much too late.
But children, remember Sarah Stout
And always take the garbage out!
first commenter w/ the author of this one wins.... Builder respect and admiration
Friends, I am a poetry-lover. To me, reading a poem feels like eating a small, but decadent piece of chocolate torte. The words make me feel alive and human and pricked at the soul.
In honor of national poetry month, please allow me to share four of my favorite adult poems on the Tuesdays of May and four great ones for kids on the Thursdays of May.
It hovers in dark corners
before the lights are turned on
it shakes sleep from its eyes
and drops from mushroom gills,
it explodes in the starry heads
of dandelions turned sages,
it sticks to the wings of green angels
that sail from the tops of maples.
It sprouts in each occluded eye
of the many-eyed potato,
it lives in each earthworm segment
it is the motion that runs
from the eyes to the tail of a dog
it is the mouth that inflates the lungs
of the child that has just been born.
It is the singular gift
we cannot destroy in ourselves,
the argument that refutes death,
the genius that invents the future,
all we know of God.
It is the serum that makes us swear
not to betray one another;
it is in this poem, trying to speak.
Bedtime can be unnerving for parents, especially when there are uncooperative children and/or fussy babies added to the mix. Here are a couple of small changes to our bedtime routine that have made a huge difference, especially with our two-and-a-half year old:
B-Mama just posted about a crib recall, and in the comments section MaryAlice mentioned the recent Tylenol recall. I didn't think much of it at the time, until this weekend when my daughter was feeling sick in conjunction with a bloody nose. While I suspected the nose bleed was related to her allergies, I called the pediatricians office just to make sure. They referred me to the triage unit at the local hospital (typical protocol for weekend hours) and I chatted with a nurse. She didn't think the nose bleed was a big deal, and suggested I give Gianna some Tylenol. She then asked me to make sure my Tylenol bottle was not on the "recall list." I got the bottle, read her the number, and sure enough ours was one of the recalled bottles. This conversation followed:
Me: finish reading the bottle number to nurse...
Nurse: "Umm, ok, did you open the bottle?"
Nurse: "How much of it did your children consume?"
Me: "about 2/3 of the bottle." (it was a 4oz bottle so this was not a small amount!)
Nurse: "Oh, ok...(long pause)... well, what child had the Tylenol."
Me: "I don't know, probably all of them. We have had the bottle for a couple of months. I think my two year old has had most of it, he has had some ear infections, and maybe my 4 year old has had some too."
Nurse: "Have you noticed any funny behavior from your two boys.
Me: "Everyday," and I begin to laugh.
Nurse: does not laugh. "Well, I suggest after we get off the phone you call poison control. When is the last time they had the Tylenol?"
Me: Now mildly concerned, "I have no idea, it hasn't been in the past week."
Nurse: "Ok, well, you need to call poison control, and you also need to call this product information number. We are advising all parents of children who have consumed the contaminated Tylenol to call this hotline. Do you have the number for poison control?"
Me: a little more concerned, "yes, of course, I'm the mother of 2 young boys. Can I ask you to give me a little more information about how this product was contaminated, I mean, what is the possible risk to my children?"
Nurse: "You will need to call the number for more information, but I believe some of the bottles contained higher than normal doses of the active ingredient. In addition, there are unknown products in the bottle.
Great. I thank the nurse for the information, forgettting completely about sick daughter and nosebleed, and I call the hotline number. And, after waiting on hold for about 15 minutes--don't you just love corporations-- I give the rep the info about the bottle, and this conversation ensues.
Customer Service Rep: "Thank you for your address, I apologize for the inconvenience, we will be sending you a refund voucher."
Me: "Umm, I don't really care that much about the $7, but I'm a little concerned about the possible effect on my children of consuming this bottle of Tylenol. Can you answer a few of my questions regarding the possible risks or side effects?"
Customer Service Rep: "No, I'm sorry ma'am. You will have to call back on Monday to get that information. You will need to speak with a product representative."
Me: "Um, ok, well can I leave my number so a product representative can call me back tomorrow?"
Customer Service Rep: "No m'am, I'm sorry, but we can't make outgoing calls here. We just receive calls, we are a reception center only."
Me: "So you are telling me that my kids consumed some potentially harmful Tylenol, with unknown products, and you have no further details, and to find out more I have to call you back, and wait on hold again?"
Customer Service Rep: "That's right ma'am. I'm very sorry for the inconvenience."
Me: "Ok, well I find it pretty upsetting that in this particular case, when you have sold a defective product posing potential harm to children, that you do not have a system set up to return the calls of concerned parents. I find it hard to believe that with all the technology available to us, you don't have the ability to make outgoing calls."
Customer Service Rep: "I'm sorry for the inconvenience."
Me: realizing slowly that I'm wasting my time and breath talking to this guy about the poor customer service system, "I know this isn't your fault, but tell your manager that the system you guys have stinks." I then do my own research, call poison control, and confirm my suspicion that my kids will be fine.
Now, I have a tendency to lose my patience and my temper in these sorts of conversations with customer service representatives. I have been known to yell, cry, and name call. I'm sure I've given more than one priest a good chuckle in confession as I describe my embarrassing behavior. I loath the administrative dealings of large corporate customer service departments. I find it amazing that they can't make an outgoing call, they cannot transfer you to a supervisor without at least an hour wait, and that you always hear a voice telling you about the abnormally high call volume and the longer than normal wait time. The general feeling of helplessness that comes from the entire experience is unsettling. When I'm postpartum, overtired, or pregnant the after effects of these experiences are really frightening.
I've been meditating on this a lot lately, because last week I had a battle with Verizon over our internet connection. The internet had been down for 5 days and I spent over 8 hours on the phone trying to get the connection fixed. It was frustrating, and my efforts were pretty much futile. While each conversation didn't end in tears, each day I allowed the feeling of helplessness to consume me, even if only for a brief time, and I lost my interior peace. I then read this passage:
The exercise of freedom as a choice among options, plainly is important. However, to avoid making painful mistakes we also need to understand that there is another way of exercise freedom: less immediately exciting, poorer, humbler, but much more common, and one immensely fruitful, both humanly and spiritually. It is consenting to what we did not originally choose...The highest and most fruitful form of human freedom is found in accepting, even more than in dominating. We show the greatness of our freedom when we transform reality, but still more when we accept it trustingly as it is given to us day after day...in order to become truly free, we are often called to accept what we did not want, and even what we would not have wanted at any price. There is a paradoxical law of human life here: one cannot be truly free unless one accepts not always being free!
To achieve true interior freedom we must train ourselves to accept, peacefully and willingly, plenty of things that seem to contradict our freedom. This means consenting to our personal limitations, our weaknesses, our powerlessness, this or that situation that life imposes on us, and so on.
Quoted from Interior Freedom by Jacques Philippe
In the life of this simple mother, it means accepting the difficult reality of customer service departments at large corporations. I am not "helpless" in a spiritual sense. I can "do something" about the situation. I can accept it as God's will in my life. I'm naturally an active and aggressive person, so the image of actually choosing acceptance, rather than passively dealing with the trials given to me, frees my soul and leaves me ready for the next challenge. To have interior freedom and peace, I don't need to be passive. I have a choice to make with regards to every trial.
And so today I'm praying for the grace to choose acceptance of small trials.
On a practical note, I got more information from my own web searches on the recall. If you want a complete list of recalled products, check out this site. I'm sure my kids will be fine. They have consumed unknown products before and I'm sure they will do so again in the future.