Goodbye!

The end of summer!   
 
So many mourn the passing, carefree days, but I am here to tell you there is a silent minority cheering for summer's exit.  And it's me. 
 
I can't take another day of 3-a-day gushing milk spills on the kitchen table.  I don't want to step on another spilled goldfish cracker on my living room floor.  I've grown weary of hanging towel after towel on the deck.  I'm fresh out of ideas for patiently guiding siblings away from boxing matches in the car.
 
The summer days have been long, and unscheduled.  Towards the end here, they have loomed before me like ominous storms.
 
A couple weeks ago, a woman with two kids commented to me that it sure gets easier when they're older.  I took a look at my baby, toddling through the waiting room at swim lessons with snot dribbling down his nose and mixing with drool and slipping down his chin.   He was giddily trying to grab up everything in sight that didn't belong to us, and I bit my tongue from saying out loud:  I've got a long time yet before that comes.
 
But still:  deep breath.  Next week, with fresh number twos and Crayolas and minds, three of my kids will march into a productive, sibling-free zone.  They will read and do math and stay away from video games without me reminding them all day long.  They will prosper!   They will flourish!  They will joyfully take up the task of learning!
 
Or maybe it's me that will prosper and flourish.  And breathe. 
 
It's the end of summer!

The Morning Chaos

I am so much more of a perfectionist than I realized.

Every day, I wish the day could start with a kid-free workout and a cup of coffee before the chaos ensues.  I haven’t yet worked up to the 5AM wake-up call that would require for me. 

So, it isn’t that. 

Instead, today began around 6 when my eyes popped open with a bit of sunlight streaming in through the bedroom curtains.  I grabbed a shower, knowing my exercise would be on hold because we have a morning playdate scheduled.  I heard Frankie cry out for a moment, but I ignored him as I ran down the stairs and pulled out of the driveway to grab coffee for John and me. 

I feel a constant pull between perfection and reality.  I dream of a family in which no boys talk about poop or penises.  A family where people pretty much always say please or thanks.  A family where I ask for help, and the answer is, “Sure, happy to lend a hand!”  Or at least yes.

Don’t get me wrong:  my kids aren’t horrible.  There are lots of pleases and thank yous, and lots of helping hands.  Just this morning, Jimmy unloaded the dishwasher and Lucy played nicely with Frank, keeping him out of trouble.  But in between those nice moments, there are children who scream just to experiment with how screaming can sound.  There is a baby grabbing all my recycling from the container with the broken lid.  There is laundry coming from every orifice of the home, and a particularly demanding child who yells in my face in a way that is embarrassing and infuriating.  I am trying to keep my cool, but just being around this much action is giving me a bit of a nervous tick.

Parenting is so indescribably hard.

I’m having one of those days when I wonder if I am really cut out for this.  Can I even get it done?  It seems like I’m slipping.   Beyond wondering if I can ever leave the house with it being in reasonable order, I wonder if I can raise these kids into relatively competent adults. 

Logically, I know other homes are going through the same struggles.  But it feels so lonely and isolating to be here as the primary caregiver.  I feel unqualified; my own weaknesses glaringly revealed when a child has a short temper that mimics my own.

It is a hard morning.  But there is sun outside and I suppose we will get through it. 

How many days until school starts?  

A Leader in the Faith of our Family

Every so often, I walk into a room and find my breath taken away because my husband is the man of my dreams.
 
Quietly, ever so quietly, he remembers to teach our children prayers, to read to them about our faith, to pray the rosary.
 
We don't have to make a strategic plan.  He doesn't let me know each time he shares a kernel of wisdom with one of them.
 
He just does it because he believes, and in the quiet of his heart, he listens to God telling him how to be a wonderful dad and how to lead our kids in a way that is soft-spoken, but powerful.

June 11

Lazy summer days.
Tie dye tshirts, cotton blowing through the breeze.
Lucy on the monkey bars.
Trip to the dollar store.  "This is my heaven!!" -Tommy
Planning boys' birthdays.
Swimming lessons.
Baby walking behind a push-stroller in the front yard.
Lucy losing another front tooth.
Jimmy keeping up with the big kids---not just quite.
Sleeping the afternoon away in Mom and Dad's bed.
Love these children.
Need a glass of wine. 

Almost 5 Jim

10 Current Things about Sweet Jim
 
1.  Playing baseball for the first time on a team with Lucy and cousin Walt.  (Go Rattlers!) Made up his own snakelike cheer before the season started.  Favorite part of the game is chatting with the coaches while they are pitching/catching.  Seems less interested in hitting the ball, because the longer he stays at bat, the more small-talk he can make with them.
2.  Randomly introduces himself to people.  Today?  A barista.
3.  Compliments mom on new outfits or jewelry.
4.  Has a running list of several girlfriends.  Recently wanted to bring cupcakes to school for them with real engagement rings as the token gift in the frosting.
5. Has trouble controlling physical exuberance.  Ran right into a parking lot today, narrowing evading death after a loud shout from mom.    When I asked him why he didn't stop upon seeing an oncoming car, he responded that while shouting, "Yay!" his body just couldn't stop going.
6. Loves a good cleaning project.
7.  Reads quietly and puts himself down for a nap by choice often.
8.  First one awake in the morning.
9.  First one asleep at night.
10.  Philosophical and inquisitive.
 
What a sweet, crazy, loving guy. <3

Almost Eight, Pretty Great

Dear Tom,
 
Tonight I held you in my arms on our new deck chair.  We were wrapped up in a pink heart quilt, and you told me about The Lemonade Wars and wondered when the stars would come out.
 
You talk in third person.
 
You look like a young man.
 
Where has the time gone, Tommy?  Somehow, my oldest child, life has sped up and you've grown into someone so funny and intelligent and strong.  It's hard to even remember you as a little guy.  Now you're holding Frank and grabbing my bags to carry them for me.  And even holding open doors.
 
I am so proud of you, Tom, for the love you have shown me this year.  You are learning to feel what is deep within you, and to show it.  You are going to be an amazing man when you grow up.
 
I love you.
 
Mom

Wrinkly Chlorine Toes

Baby,
 
It was your first time swimming at the pool tonight.  This spring has been so long in arriving.  I piled you and the big kids into the minivan after school, and figured I'd take my chances supervising the rowdiest four kids in town.  I didn't expect you to be terrified!  I just walked into the water with you in my arms, and your arms wrapped around me for dear life.  Your face collapsed in tears, and your siblings and I didn't know what to do.
 
After about 15 minutes, we climbed out of the pool and watched from the sidelines while your teeth chattered and you warmed up in a few gym towels.
 
Later, we tried again.  This time, you started sitting on the sidelines of the zero-entry area, getting used to the idea of the pool.  (Apparently a professional mom should have figured this was the best approach.)  You were much happier.  You smiled cautiously, and wandered about with a dive-stick in your mouth. 
 
I can hear you peeping in the crib upstairs right now.  I guess it's time for real instead of virtual parenting. 
 
Thanks for today, my little Frank.  You are such a sweet, sweet part of our family.
 
Love, Mama

The End of Winter

It is one of those weeks when I can't seem to stay on top of what I need to get done around here.  Every time I think I'm making headway cleaning a toilet, the kids are busy dumping tiny legos out in a fury of creation in another part of the house.
 
I keep trying to chill out and understand that this phase of my life will not last forever.  But it has been a long time.
 
Truly, I often dream of a week in which I can clean the whole house for a day (or even two!) and then just sit in a clean house without one additional thing breaking or tumbling down the stairs.  I guess everyone has a dream, right?
 
It's been a long winter.  When I look back on my adult life, it surprises me to realize that the times of great joy have almost invariably been times also of great challenge.  Every birth and infancy in our home has been that way.  I suppose there is a euphoric elation that accompanies challenges, allowing us to see our blessings even when we are entrenched in a trial.
 
Frank is asleep, and there are about a hundred things I wanted to accomplish in the the short window before he is crawling around and stick fingers in outlets again.
 
Back at it, I guess.    Friday Funday.

A Mother of Many's Confession

It took me 3 practice kids before I realized what a true blessing it is to hold Frankie long into the night, rocking him as he is sick, holding him when he needs me.  It is amazing to me how much love continues to grow within me:  when it seems your heart is bursting and full, there is room to love beyond what you believe is your capacity.

9 months

 

Baby Frankie.  My doodler.  You were rolling around with stinky toes and then crawling around after Christmas.  And then exploring the knobs and giggling when we looked at you funny.  And sucking down your bottle, except getting distracted by all the action at our house.

 

 

 

You were growing and growing, reaching for cords and sticking your fingers in outlets.  Grabbing for tiny legos and laughing, laughing, laughing when we told you no.  Eating whatever food we put on your tray.  Stuffing your face with Cheerios and almost choking.  Snuggling so sweetly while we read Goodnight Moon, or while we sang karaoke on your sister's new machine.  Or while your siblings played piano and Daddy read the paper on the big blue couch.

 

You were held in a fort of blankets and playpen.  You were protected by a team of 5 older housemates.  You were loved and loved and loved in a way that means the heart can keep growing wider and beyond the capacity than any human believes it can grow.

 

You were standing up after Daddy taught you, even though Mom told him not to teach you.  Just stay little.

 

You were eating spaghetti and gulping down a drink of water...and in the same night, standing up in your crib and crying for Mama, Mama.  And then when Dad picked you up, saying it finally, nine months old:  "Daddy!"

 

Oh how we love you, Frankie.

 

Love,

 

Mom, Dad, Tom, Lu,  & Jim

Satisfaction Guaranteed

It would be nice if raising kids came with a long-term guarantee.  For instance:  After all the hard work and years of doing laundry, enforcing discipline, creating opportunities and trying your best to be a good role model, your kids will turn out remotely normal and they will shake your hand, say thanks, and love you unconditionally. 

The Shining Moments

Dear Tom,
 
Oh, parenthood!  It is so easy to get overwhelmed when you kids are squabbling and asking for stuff.  Not always politely, I might add. 
 
Let me go backwards a bit, though.  This week, you have had some TRULY shining moments:
 
-Boldly inquiring as to whether Grandma M might like to purchase a copy of your first book report for second grade.  (She did...for $1.  Go businessman!)
 
-Sensitively drawing a picture for sick Grandpa M of you and him fishing side by side.
 
-Singing like an angel beside Mom at church after sitting quietly and reading...without interrupting me once...for a very long parent meeting at church.
 
Let me remember these moments, Tom.  Let us both celebrate the love and ingenuity in your heart.  Too many times in families, the hard parts drag us down.  I want to remember that you fill my heart with joy and affection and pride.
 
Love,
Mom

Parenting Boys

I've given up, in some ways, on the idea of a perfect family.  As any real parent might tell you, one of the more difficult things about being a mom or dad is accepting that you can not control what your children do.

Even typing that out is difficult.

One thing I have struggled with tremendously as a mom is witnessing aggressive behavior traits in my children. 

Aggression in children is normal behavior.  Children feel angry when their toys are snatched up by one another.  They feel jealous when a sibling receives more attention.  They feel hurt when they are left out of an experience.  Sometimes these strong emotions cause them to want to retaliate in sometimes violent ways---tantrums, hitting, powerful words, throwing items. 

I don't want my children to use these methods of retaliation.  I want them to own their feelings, to seek solace independently or from me.  Sometimes, having three children so close in age (now 7, 5, and 4) seems to create this impossible situation whereby I must be a patrol guard as well as a full-time baby care-giver to Frank. 

How can I do it all?  Am I even strong enough to be this mom?

I want to do everything I can to protect my children and to prepare them to be amazing, selfless adults in the future.  I want to give this parenting thing my full shot of effort.

Sometimes there are intense moments when John and I wonder, Are we giving enough?  Are we getting this right? 

The finished product is so many years off yet.

One thing that has been on my mind for quite some time now is parenting boys specifically.  I feel ill-prepared to handle the special qualities of energy and emotion-bottling my sons are (so far) prone to exhibit.  I can already see Tom bottling feelings up and hiding from me.  How do I change this trajectory and encourage him to share himself with me?

<3

Dear Frank,

It is just too much, really.  Every day that passes, I love you more.  I love you so much that you drool all over me, and I laugh and let it sink into my shirt and neck and face.  I love you so much that you burp, and it smells like intoxicating perfume.  Is this even possible?  Is it even possible to be so enamored with my son?

This is it.  Before you, I honestly never understood the moms who didn't want to leave their babies at home for an extended break.  I grew overwhelmed with diapers and sleepless night and runny noses.  And somehow, Frank, you have cast a magical spell of maternal wooziness upon me.  Your giggle and dimply smile are everything I need to believe my day is perfect.

Oh, how I love you, my almost-crawling baby.  7 months.

Your,
Mama

The Lesson I Don't Want to Forget to Teach You

Dear kids,
 
There are so many lessons I have left to teach you.  Sometimes the thought of your future----and the things I want to teach you yet----can be overwhelming.  With Frank waking up from a cold tonight, and Jim wandering the hallway with a nightmare, I woke up in the middle of the night.  Somehow my worrying mother-mind travelled to who you would all marry in the future.  What kind of people will you choose to open yourselves up to many years from now? 
 
It is so silly to even consider such things now.  Lucy, at age 5, you are laying on the floor of our bedroom in your ballet tights, leotard, and tutu.  You had your first lesson just tonight. I had to promise you that you can put your tap shoes on right away in the morning just to convince you to go to bed.
 
Tommy, you are so young yet that you wrote your very first book report last week.  How proud your Dad and I were to see you working so hard....taking such care in doing a good job at your school.
 
At any rate, I figured it was as good a time as any to tell you, as a group, that I do want you to carefully consider the kind of person you marry.  I hope that when you meet someone, and fall in love, you remember that person should treat you with great respect and dignity every day.  After all, you are our children and you are God's children.  We all deserve to be treated with great dignity on this planet.
 
When I was growing up, I watched my sister date a few young men.  I didn't have much dating experience as a teenager, but I suppose I learned a few things from her experiences....and from seeing how my parents tried to teach her about dating.  I remember at one point that my Dad had a short list going of things that really matter a lot in finding a spouse.  Some of them were pretty darn practical.  I wish I remembered them all.
 
Here are a few:
 
1.  Does he/she know the meaning of the word "work"?  
 
2.  Does he/she have any kids you don't know about?
 
3.  Does he/she have any addictions?
 
4.  Is he or she from a good, wholesome family?
 
Gosh, I might have to check back in with your Aunt Sarah and Uncle Chris to remember the rest of the list.  I think my Dad's general hope was tha we would realize that when you marry someone, you marry all the baggage he or she carries from his or her whole life.  You marry the emotions from an addiction she conquered at 16. Or you marry the family who raised him.  You marry the boy who just can't hold down a job...or instead, you marry the boy who does whatever he can to find a job and work hard to keep it.   Sometimes when you are a teenager or young adult falling in love, it is difficult to ignore your impulse and realize that the inner ethics of a person matter more than how he or she looks on the outside.
 
Of course, my Mom would have chimed in with a more spiritual component of whether or not the prospective spouse was Catholic.  We weren't taught to only marry Catholics, but I think the overarching message was clear: marrying someone who values God and has faith in God should be a priority.
 
It's late tonight, so I just don't have time to expand upon these many ideas, ideas it took my parents a great many years to teach me.  But I wanted to grab onto this idea, and tell you kids:  Choose wisely.  God has a plan for you and your future spouse, if that is your path.  You deserve to be loved greatly, and in turn, you should love your spouse greatly, putting him or her before yourself again and again in life.  As he or she will do for you.
 
All my love.
 
Your,
Mama
 

My Optimist

I wanted another optimist to share my joy and love for life alongside me.  It seemed like my friends and my family were letting me down.
 
I complained to my husband.  I complained to my mom.
 
After the complaints died down, Lucy ran behind me as I idly checked my Facebook account.  She threw open the front door, mid-sprint, and let it slam behind her.  The sun was shining as bright as a ray of gold outside.
 
I opened the door and called out to my Lucy, "What are you doing out there, girl?"
 
"I'm chasing the sparkles, Mom!"    
 
And she ran into the sunshine, the bricks of our sidewalk glimmering around her like true magic melting into my heart.

Thankfulness Begets Thankfulness

It's 3:15 AM and time for another insomnia motherhood post.  I know that my little Frank won't wake me up forever.  Just tonight, I slowed down to remember that.  I stroked his soft, fluffy hair while I rocked and nursed him.  The fan buzzed quietly beside the rocking chair.  The rest of the house slept, and Frankie ate.

I am so grateful for my baby boy!  Perhaps more this time than ever with any of my children before this.  How is it that as we age, we become more acutely aware of the preciousness of life?  How did I take for granted the gift I'd been given during three infancies before Frankie's?

Don't get me wrong:  I have always loved and enjoyed my babies.  But this time I have submitted to Frankie.  I am even more patient with my body this time, reminding myself that I am beautiful in my state as a new mother.  That no one will love me more if I crazily try to diet quickly.  Mostly that applies to me----I need not love myself more for dieting quickly.

But I digress. 

This post was actually supposed to be about gratitude.  I've been doing an exercise on Facebook this November that I've tried in other years, but never completely fulfilled.  Each day, I post something for which I am truly thankful.  In addition to Facebook, I keep a handwritten copy of my running list on my refrigerator.  Here it is:

 

 

 

The interesting thing about this gratitude exercise (and something I've learned before, but needed reminding to consider again) is that gratitude begets more gratitude.  Just listing one thing I am truly thankful for every day prompts me to literally count the blessings in my life as November unravels. 

 

What a unique chance to realize more fully the gifts I am given in this life.

 

What perfect opportunity to tell God thank you for the people, the places, the moments, and the things that surround me.

 

 

For My Young Man

Dear Tommy,

I'm looking at a recently-framed pirate picture you drew for me, and thinking about the life you are carving out for yourself in second grade.  I was surprised the other day when your teacher emailed out a photo of you and your classmates holding up signs of your hoped-for professions.  You want to be an artist!  Your talent really is blossoming.

You are growing up, Tommy.  I look at you now, strong and athletic, smelling of boy sweat after a quick game of kickball in the neighborhood, and I realize you have talent and strength and wisdom these days.  You consciously go for the comedic punch line.  ("Mom....Frank's crying!!  You've got the do the 'bop-around'....whatever that is.")  You dance like crazy.  You are sensitive, wanting to please me and yet putting up a huge wall of defense when something difficult crops up between us.

Don't be afraid of me, Tommy.  I am on your side.  I know you are saving the many lunch-notes I've drawn for you in the secret compartment of your lunch box.  I know you love me and I love you back...every moment.

Even in the hard ones.

Love, Mom

A Moment for Jimmy

Dear Jimmy,

I'm having trouble sleeping this week.  Don't tell your Grandma, because even though the truth is that Frank is just waking me up and it's hard to fall back asleep sometimes, Grandma will worry.  Maybe when you are a Daddy yourself, you will understand that mothers just can't stop worrying about their kids.

I've spent a good bit of time worrying about my own lately!  You kids have given me a run for my money over the last few months.  We've been slowly adjusting to life as a family of six, and that has come with incredible joys and many bumps along the road.  You, as my four year old and my longest-running "baby" of the family, have shown your share of jealousy toward all this tumultuosness.  I still keep that little Frank close at hand when there is no one around to supervise you and him together; otherwise, you'll try to see what happens when you "gently" squish his cheeks or plug his nose.



I know this is normal brother and normal kid curiousity, but it never fails to shock a mother of a baby when a GIANT four year old shows even the slightest bit of un-gentlesness toward the infant.    Reminds me of when Tommy was a baby and his big cousin, Will, tried the same shenanigans.  I was horrified.

I got over it, though.

Back to you, Jimmy. 




You are an amazing, amazing kid.  When I have a minute to slow down (it doesn't often happen except when Frank wakes me up at 2am), I think about the mischievous grin on your face and how you will do anything to make others laugh.  I can not count the number of times during a single dinner that we ask you to sit down, please....sit down NOW...sit down ON YOUR BUTT....because you are so involved in standing and trying to claim your place as a conversationalist in the family.  Thank goodness we long-ago instituted the practice of reviewing "highs" of the day one by one at dinner, lest you may not get a word in edgewise between your father, Tom, Lucy, and me. 

And yet.  When you are out in the world, Jimmy, your heart is shining for others to notice.  You simply astound me, kid.  For about year, you've introduced yourself to new friends on playgrounds with a smile and an exuberance that even your loving preschool teacher had to admit was somewhat intimidating for other young children.  As your mom, I could see you yearned to make friends and you didn't yet realize that making friends meant giving them a little personal space...maybe a few inches, at least.  Over the course of that first year in preschool, Mrs. McDonald similarly called you out on behavior again...and again...and again, but she did secretly confide in me that you were a favorite of hers.  She could see the happiness and joy for life in your heart, Jim. 

Thank God someone else could see it, because I was starting to wonder whether you would ever settle down and show it in an appropriate way!

But you are settling down, little by little.  This year, we've started carpooling with your best friend on the block, Kade.  You and Kade are just a riot together, piping up from the backseat about Star Wars and girlfriends and baby brothers.   You are teaming up for little boy shenanigans and riding one-handed down the cul de sac already.  I still haven't forgotten how Kade challenged you to ride your bike a little faster on practically the first day you got rid of training wheels.  It's a dog-eat-dog world out there for 3 year olds on bikes these days.

I have to admit, Jimmy, that I have often wondered if you'd survive and flourish despite the crazy chaos in our house over your first few years.  I have loved you with all my might, but with Tom and Lucy and you so close in age, I didn't have the time to perfect your baby book like I wanted.  Does that matter in the long run?  Will you grow up and feel like you missed out on my love because of it?

I sure hope not.  I look into your smile every day, kid, and I see God's light in your eyes and through to your heart.  I pray that you will use your enthusiasm and gifts for big things. 

I love you more than you will realize for years to come.  I am so lucky to be the mom of such a spunky, spirited four year old. 

Love,
Mom

Final image of Jimmy taken amazingly by Paula Charchenko.

Finally!

 

Since school has started, it's as if my postpartum baby fog has finally lifted and I'm feeling recharged, like the old Anne who has more energy than to just lay around nursing a goo-goo-ga-ga baby all day.  There is something totally blissful about being the sole nourishment and lifeline of a newborn.  But then, there is something blissful about reclaiming your vigor for life.

Last night, I reclaimed that vigor at one of my favorite annual activites, the St. Pat's Garage Sale.  Every year I go with my mom and sister to wait in line at their first-night preview.  $3 is a measly pin-drop to pay for what glory awaits inside!  Over the years, I have scored golden peep-toed designer shoes and many other amazing treasures.  The sale is in a community that donates TOP NOTCH stuff. I am not kidding around here, people.

Last night was no exception to the usual amazing treasure hunt.  Among my finds were 3 kids' lacrosse sticks, priced at $3 each, and a beautiful 1960s-era Drexel chest perfect for my husband's manly closet needs.  I also replaced Lucy's Columbia jacket (she lost the lining last year after wearing her brand-new one about twice) for $5.  The jacket looked like it had never been worn.

I outfitted my eldest son in this elegant boyswear.  He's pretty handsome, if I do say so myself.