One year ago today

One year ago today our family was on the last leg of our epic road trip (almost-all-the-way-) cross-country. It was December 23, a Sunday, and we had just stopped for Mass in Odessa, Texas, followed by a brief visit to a shrine; a shrine not to a saint, mind you, but to high school football - the Permian Panthers football stadium, which is the team on which the book, movie and TV series Friday Night Lights is based. I had given in and allowed my husband to stop, despite being in a race against time. When would we ever get back to Odessa, Texas? Never. And he was putting up with so much, driving 18-hour days with two toddlers in the back.

So we stopped. Very quickly. And I joked that he better hope our daughter wasn't born while we were there because I'd forever tell that story.

Guess when she was born.

We were pulling out of the stadium when I got the text that forever changed our lives. Our third child, our second daughter, had been born that morning and was healthy.

Truthfully, my estimates show we were most likely at Mass when she actually came into the world, right as I was wrangling a restless two-year-old out front, praying before a statue of Our Lady of Grace which was adorned with a vase of roses (hello, St. Therese). 

We high-tailed it to Arizona and arrived just after midnight. The hospital was so incredibly accommodating, letting our entire family, kids and all, in to meet our daughter and sister in the middle of the night. And the birth family. Words cannot describe our experience meeting them in that crowded hospital room that night, around one in the morning on Christmas Eve, so I won't even try. I will just say that it was as grace-filled of a room as I've ever walked into.

And there was the tiny baby with a full head of hair. One family - so generous, welcoming, loving and selfless - putting her into the arms of another.

One year later, that baby is all toddler (suddenly!), with big, blue eyes and gorgeous curls.

 
And she is so loved.

We adore her beyond belief. And I know her birth family does too.

Happy first birthday, Esther Grace Therese. You bring us immeasurable joy, and we thank God for the gift He has given us!

A couple of my favorite things

If you've been a reader of my blog for a while you know of my love for Brother Francis. I happened upon some videos on YouTube one day a couple years ago, found my way to their website, and ordered our first Brother Francis DVD. I couldn't help but share here, on my blog, how awesome the DVD was and how it was teaching my kids all their prayers. So post I did, and somehow the Brother Francis people found that post and have since been sending me the rest of their Brother Francis episodes to review.

So we were thrilled when the newest DVD from Brother Francis arrived in the mail - The King is Born.

You can find it here.

Clara and Luke knew that Christmas is Jesus' birthday, but beyond that their knowledge was lacking. Last year our Christmas was a little, let's just say, unorthodox. We spent it in a hotel room, many, many hours away from home, with a new baby (the similarities to the Christmas Story were not lost on us at the time!). Although we had an Advent calendar before we left for our big trip, I'll be honest, that was really more about crafts than Scripture.

So this year I knew I wanted to focus on teaching them what the holiday is really about. And who better for a busy mom to turn to for help than Brother Francis?

Like with all the episodes, a lot of information is packed in here. Watching it, I can't help but imagine the writers trying to figure out how they are possibly going to get ALL that very important info into 25 minutes. But, somehow, they do. And they keep it interesting for kids. And, like with all the episodes, I think different ages can take away different levels of learning from this video. My kids were happy watching it (catchy songs, interesting animation), but I think older kids would be too (the story was detailed and not overly simple).

But, as I'm always surprised to find, I think toddlers even get more out of videos like this than we realize. I remember after watching the Let's Pray episode, Clara started telling me (at age two) about mysteries. So to me, Brother Francis is a win-win for this reason. They watch a lot of stuff that is right at their age level; why not show them something that keeps their interest, yet also exposes them to information I may otherwise not think to share with them? While we have prayed the Rosary together, I probably would have stopped short of explaining what mysteries are because I would have figured it was over their heads (not to mention I would have no clue what to say. Explaining things to small children is not my strong-suit).

So we'll be watching this video throughout Advent. And I keep thinking of how this DVD would make THE BEST St. Nicholas Day gift for my kids - if they didn't already have it. 

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While I'm on the topic of gifts.....

I'm always on the hunt for saint dolls. So much so that I actually made Clara one last year because I just couldn't find any that weren't ridiculously expensive. Little did I know, my friend Mandy is a super talented artist and has an awesome Etsy shop...with JUST what I was looking for!

Seriously, how cute is that?

I ordered a doll for Ryan's Goddaughter a couple months back and it was completely adorable. So, I bought another one for my Goddaughter for Christmas.

I love her stuff so much I wanted to blog about her, because I know there must be other moms out there like me who are looking for saint dolls that don't cost a fortune.

She makes dolls, plushies and finger puppets and while she isn't taking any more custom orders for Christmas, there's still a lot to choose from on her site (although there are just two dolls left.. I'm glad I grabbed one before they were gone!).

And once is Christmas is over I'm sure she'll be accepting custom orders once again, and her dolls make great feast day or birthday gifts too. So go check her stuff out :)

Birthdays

It's birthday season around here. Today (or technically yesterday, since I'm publishing after midnight) was Luke's.

Unlike most mothers on their children's birthdays, I will not say that I can't believe Luke is three. It's actually rather believable. He's always kept up with Clara, has been talking practically since they pulled him from my womb, and (lucky for us) never really had a terrible two's. Now, don't misunderstand. Luke had his very own unique breed of terribleness that involved not going to bed at night until past midnight, no matter WHAT I tried, but that can't be attributed to age. He's done that his entire life (although there is a VERY promising update on that front that I'm still a little nervous to boast about just yet. Stay tuned).

While my two oldest always seem the same age, today starts the week when they actually are. For five days, I have two three-year-olds.

Be still my heart. This photo makes me want to write another post about adoption right now.

With the way Thanksgiving fell this year, with Luke's birthday before it and Clara's the weekend immediately after, we decided to have a joint party for them this past weekend. We don't always have parties (seems to be an every-other-year trend we unofficially have going at the moment), but when we do, the kids get very into them. And as excited as they get about them ahead of time cannot even compare to the lasting impression the party leaves.

Luke has a photo book that chronicles his first year and there's a page devoted to their monkey party. It's his favorite page, by far. In particular, he loses it every single time over the cake I made. He gets so excited leading up to that page that he can barely contain himself and I had to talk him out of a monkey cake again this year.

So parties - and cakes - are big deals in our house and I started discussing this year's theme with them earlier this month. At the time, we were right on the heels of a Jake-and-the-Neverland-Pirates Halloween, and my Jake and Izzy were beginning to make the transition into the more classic Peter and Wendy. I can't say I wasn't happy. That theme had a lot of potential. The ideas pretty much created themselves.

I love planning parties for my kids. Love it. Fall is my season - Halloween costumes right into party decor. Stressful, yes. But a good kind of stress (and this from the person who no longer paints because even that is too stressful for her). It's easy. It's glue-guns and felt and sewing only when entirely necessary. It's making pretty things that they can use in their rooms (that's a big requirement, and why I make the decorations in the first place). So I spent most November evenings making banners, party favors, more banners, and any decoration I could think up.

It all came to together this past Saturday and was a success because Clara and Luke had a blast.

 

My only regret was not having the party earlier in the day. It gets dark way too early this time of year to have any usable natural light for pictures. You know, priorities.

So I was about to relax last night - with wrapping presents my only task before Luke's actual birthday today - when he, as I tucked him into bed, announced how excited he was for his Batman birthday. Okay.... And it wasn't some manipulative thing, like a spoiled kid trying to bleed their mother for every creative ounce she's worth. He said it so innocently, so excitedly, with those big doe eyes (okay, maybe he's just really good at being manipulative...) as I stuck my head into his Thomas the Train tent that goes over his bed... that I had absolutely no choice.

The glue-gun came out one last time.

I set out to make a cape and a banner. Upon pulling out all of my yellow and black felt from my "craft room" (a.k.a. my mess of plastic Target bags thrown in among my clothes in the tiny closet I share with Ryan), I realized I didn't have enough. But I had an old pair of black sweatpants that had seen better days. Once too many holes in all the wrong places means I can't wear them to the grocery store, I really have no use for them. So I cut one leg off, opened it up, and it became a cape. No sewing, nothing. Just cutting. I had enough felt for the Batman symbol and for a banner. Phew.

It's safe to say he loved the cape (side-note - my mom once told him a story about a red-haired boy who grows up to be Batman and, ever since, he very reluctantly accepts it as his destiny).

Photo-of-Lukie-and-his-Batman-banner FAIL.

I'm starting to realize I may have set the bar too high. After freaking out about the awesomeness of his banner and cape this morning, he asked, again innocently, why his Peter Pan birthday banner was still up and hadn't been replaced with another Batman banner. And he told me how excited he was about his Batman cake. Uh oh.

His defrosted chocolate cupcake and green (from Peter Pan) frosting were more than good enough for him though (okay, I might have created the Batman wings out of buttercream) and he was thrilled about the entire day, even mommy's request to take a birthday photo (well, maybe thrilled isn't the right word here, but he obliged).

I love this of him. Just want to eat those cheeks right up. Almost makes me forget all the hitting and fighting.

Now only one more birthday to go in the next week. Then Advent (which starts the same day, in fact) and another birthday, then Christmas. Then it's my birthday. Just in time for me to start feeling really tired and old.

Love you to pieces, Lukie... I mean Batman. Next up, Clara!

Adoption: Thoughts from the other side

I have lots of thoughts swirling in my cluttered head about adoption, most of them having to do with me giving the "old me" (pre-adoption me) advice. Since that's not possible, I thought perhaps someone else out there could benefit from my current perspective of being on the "other side" of adoption. We've made it through the discernment, the application, the home study, the wait, and the call. We adopted a daughter. And then we did it all over again. We've crossed over to parenthood and I can now look back on all those hang-ups I used to have back then, when I put it off for (what felt like) so long. So here are some of my first thoughts, on God's immense grace.

It took us five years to adopt once finding out I was infertile. Four years passed before we even began the home study.

We desperately wanted to start a family, so what took so long?

Well, it took time to mourn the loss of the ability to conceive. That's not an easy reality to process. I basically went through the Five Stages of Grief, and that can take a while. There were surgeries in there, several doctors, countless medications. Six cycles of this, nine cycles of that. I counted years by treatments. I could barely manage my part-time job that was infertility, let alone begin the difficult journey to adoption.

Not that I didn't think about it. Every day.

Ryan wanted to move forward. He wanted to be a dad and, more importantly to him, he wanted me to be a mom. He had a peace with the thought of adopting that I did not.

I struggled with it constantly. Went over and over it in my head. I wanted to have a family, I didn't want to keep my husband from fatherhood, I wasn't getting pregnant and probably never would...  But, oh, the hang-ups.

It's amazing how discerning a big decision like that can really dig deep down in your soul and brings all your insecurities to the surface.

A big one for me - a HUGE one - was that there would always be another mother. That just ate away at my insides. I wouldn't be number one. I'd be number two. The understudy. I wanted to be IT, the child's entire universe. His mother. I couldn't bare the thought of sharing that title with another woman. I was so broken down already. I just didn't think I had it in me.

I was jealous of a person I didn't even know. I didn't even know if there would ever be such a person. But I was jealous of her.

I can't tell you how I specifically overcame those thoughts, but I did. I let go and jumped. Took the ol' leap of faith. I prayed the heck out of it and muttered, "Jesus, I trust in you. You better take care of this." And guess what? He did.

There is no other way to describe my change of heart other than pure and total grace. Grace is one of those words that gets thrown around in Christianity. A buzz word. I knew I wanted it, others said they'd received it, but I had no idea how to even know if I had it. Those things you can't touch, see or smell are tricky like that.

But my change of heart about adoption and birth parents can only be attributed to grace, so I'm going with it.

We never met Clara's birth parents. We don't know anything about them. I have ways that I could do a little research in this age of the internet and all, but I just haven't. I know some of you might think I have crazy willpower, but the truth is I have had no desire ever to find out anything more than we currently know. It was easy, not having a face to put with the title of birth mother. There was no one to be jealous of, no one to compare myself to, no one to make me feel inferior. I knew she was adopted, of course, that there was another mother out there, but it was very easy to forget when we knew so little.

When I first laid eyes on Clara - the nanny, who cared for her after she left the NICU, handing her to me.

Then came Essie. Or, rather, first came her birth mom. It was she who I knew months before I first met my daughter, and she was so incredibly sweet. I was already an adoptive mom, I had this down. I knew I would love that baby like I birthed her, that there would be no worries. I learned early on with Clara that it's those sleepless nights and 2 a.m. diaper changes that make you a mom, just as much as carrying them in the womb.

We got to know Essie's birth mom over email and then we met her at the hospital, shortly after Essie was born. I cannot describe to you how grace-filled that room was. If I wasn't sure what grace was up until that point, I knew then. It was palpable. God turned it into something I could touch, see, and smell. Because He is awesome like that.

This photo doesn't tell the whole story. It's the birth family behind the camera that made it so special.

And you know what? I've never once been jealous that Essie has a birth mom. I've never once felt insecure knowing she's out there, that she carried my beloved daughter in her womb for nine months, that she was her first mother and will always be her mother. I get teary-eyed at that thought, but not because of any hang-ups. It's because I'm so glad Essie will always know she has another mother and I feel beyond honored that she chose us to raise her precious girl. I will forever feel honored to share that title with her.

I love knowing that Essie looks just like her. And I hope Essie has that neat way about her that the whole family all seemed to have when we briefly got to know them (I can already tell she does).

I know I didn't overcome those insecurities on my own. I'm not that strong. I like to wallow in self-pity and don't read books about spiritual growth. But I took a leap of faith back in 2008 and God did the rest. It's amazing being on the other side of it now, looking back at my former worried self, wondering how I would cope, and knowing now that it's all okay. Better than okay. I worried for so long about how I would handle always knowing there's a birth mom out there. And then it happened and knowing she's out there has actually been an enormous blessing. My heart feels healed. The absence of jealousy and insecurity is a beautiful thing.

So have faith. God wants to heal your heart. If you're like me, you may not know how to get there even if you want it desperately. If there's a road map, I haven't found it. But I'm here to tell you it can happen. He will work on your heart and your insecurities if you let Him.

Adoption is such a blessing. Born from pain and suffering, but so beautiful. I'm so thankful to have it in my life. And I'm so blessed that God used it to do a little work on a sinner like me.

It's Election Day.. Vote for Essie!

It's Election Day and, of course, we voted. And I discovered that I apparently have an Election Day uniform because I'm cool like that.



And if on this Election Day you feel like there are just no candidates you can really get behind, like no one you can really, really trust and love and support, well... I have one for you. And you can vote for her no matter where you live.

It's Esther Grace. Remember this costume? (I know, it's been so long)

I happened upon a costume contest last week and entered her and just happened to check an email account today that I hardly ever use, and there was an email saying she's a finalist!

So please, exercise your right to vote this Election Day and head on over and cast your ballot for one candidate we can all support (thank goodness it's Election Day as I'm writing this. It's making it a lot easier.. and cheesier).

I mean seriously. How can you resist that face? I know elections shouldn't be about superficial things like looks, and hair, and clothes, and the boxes the candidates' moms made for them. But just forget about all that this time and vote for cuteness.

Essie's trailing the leaders by a couple hundred votes. And voting ends Wednesday at midnight. So click here right now so Essie can win some organic toys. Pretty please???

Thanks!!!!! Happy Election Day!

DIY Costumes

Oh, how I love this time of year. Not Halloween itself. I couldn't care less about bats or spiders or even pumpkins.

What I love is making costumes.

My father always made our costumes and it was usually something grand. I remember paper mache being involved more than once. My hometown had a Halloween parade (still does) and costume contest and it was awesome. My sisters and I were known to take home a blue ribbon or two.

So it's in my blood to make costumes.

Last year, I was consumed with cardboard boxes and spray paint and ended up with this Thomas train that the poor kid absolutely loved but could barely walk in...

This year there was a cardboard box involved, but that was for Essie (which I'll get to in a minute). The two big kids, meanwhile, insisted on being Jake and Izzy from Jake and the Neverland Pirates. Well, for weeks they waffled every ten minutes between Jake and Batman, and Izzy and Cinderella. But they landed on the good pirates on my cut-off date so that's what stuck.

(In case you don't know who they are, they're the two in the middle, front.)

I spent about $20 at JoAnn Fabrics on lots of felt, bandanas (yay for not having to sew hems on every single piece of fabric!), and fake black hair. I came home and, in about five minutes, had put together most of both costumes.

Clara's was really simple, just a pink shirt and purple pants she already had. And since the only shoes she owned were sandals and it's almost November, I bought her some boots that she could use long after Halloween. I then made some felt boot-tops (or whatever you may call them?) to make them look more pirate-y. My favorite part, which took a whole three minutes, are her hoop earrings. I just hot-glued the felt hoops with yarn to her bandana.

For Luke, I made him some "boots" to go over his sneakers and turned one of his white t-shirts into a pirate shirt (he's got a long-sleeve shirt under it here) by cutting slits in the arms and at the middle of the neck. I sewed a vest out of blue felt and yellow trim. And, thankfully, he's too young to care that he's sporting some of Clara's jeggings. But pirates (the fictional ones, at least) do have some feminine qualities to their appearances, when you think about it.

They are in love with their costumes. Luke, especially, is giddy with excitement. We took them to trick-or-treat at a local college on Sunday and Luke told people in all seriousness that his name was Jake. He overheard some little kids talking about his costume and he grabbed his sword out of the stroller and started waving to them, all in character. And when he saw another toddler in a Jake costume he literally accosted him. The poor kid was darting back and forth to avoid Luke. 

They were drunk on missed naps and sugar, and so I did what any good mother would do. Encouraged them to try to eat donuts hanging from strings.

The star of the afternoon though, at least in our family, was little Miss Essie. Everyone stopped us to see our sweet Cabbage Patch doll.

We really, really didn't have a choice. She just had to be a doll.

A few months back, friends started sharing with me a link to an Etsy shop that made hats that look like Cabbage Patch dolls' hair. I knew we had to get her one for Halloween.

Her costume seems simple as I think about it, but it was slightly time-consuming and was finished over some late-night TV watching (I'll forever think of the last season of Breaking Bad when I see this box in our attic).

Ryan thought I was going a little overboard hand-painting the logo on, but I know no other way. No, seriously. I don't even know what people mean when they say they modge podge printed things on. And our printer's broken. Painting it is just sooooo much easier for me.

She's wearing one of my dresses from, oh, 35-and-a-half years ago. And I draped green fabric over her stroller seat and then velcroed it onto the top of the box.

That photo above may make it appear that she was more than happy to oblige her mother by acting very doll-like (which wouldn't be shocking, since she really is the most amazingly good-natured baby in the world). But truth be told, she wasn't having it.

Oddly, I don't have any shots from the majority of the time in which she wasn't thrilled (funny how that happens), but I did find this one which may or may not depict a little bribing going on.

Don't worry, Es. I'd do just about anything for a McD's fry too.

Okay, so those are for Halloween. But we can't forget about All Saints Day!

Due to my love of costume-making, I have long dreamed about making saints costumes, but there's never been an All Saints Day party to attend. Until this year. Our moms' group announced one a couple weeks ago and I knew I'd be doubling-up on costumes this year (there was no going back on Jake and Izzy, believe me).

So once I was done with their Halloween costumes, I set to work on making them into their patron saints. And by "set to work" I mean pulled down my bin of fabric I've collected throughout the last six or seven years and was shocked to learn I had exactly what I needed to make two little nuns and one priest.

Clara is St. Clare of Assisi, Essie (aka Esther Grace Therese) is St. Therese and Luke Kolbe is St. Maximilian Kolbe.

It's almost as if their saints had been encouraging me to save odd things over the years. Old tank-tops of mine, Ikea chair covers I bought on eBay and never used, black jersey left over from a dress I made my sister ages ago. The only things I had to buy were a black turtleneck and blue dress shirt for Luke, which came to a grand total of $4.00 at Goodwill.

There is just something about seeing your baby dressed as a nun. Oh my.

No sewing. Lots of hot glue. And felt. It was almost too easy, so last night I made a crucifix with roses and a monstrance with Blessed Sacrament (is it capitalized if it's not real?) out of paper plates and felt, just so I could keep the creative juices flowing.

Luke really nailing that Maximilian Kolbe serious look.

All this costume-making doesn't come without its sacrifices. I have two ginormous piles of clean and dirty laundry, both waiting to be dealt with. My kitchen floor needs a really good cleaning (to put it politely). And my kids' rooms need to be gone over with a bulldozer. I have a certain tolerance for a mess when I'm consumed with special projects and the pendulum is definitely starting to swing too close to the disaster side for my liking.

So back to normal it is. Except that we might have a couple pirates running around here once in a while.

I'm a homeschooler

We are officially a couple months into homeschooling preschool.

Even though in the blog world - and the Catholic world - that may seem completely normal and common, it's not something I see a lot in my day-to-day life. I went to public school, as did Ryan (he also attended a Christian school up until the fourth grade) and no one on either side of our family homeschools. In fact, all five of our siblings on both sides are public school teachers, Ryan's dad is a guidance counselor and former teacher, and my mom is a retired elementary school nurse.

Despite all of that, this really was a no-brainer for us this year for a few reasons. For one, Clara is still three and will turn four in December. She isn't old enough for pre-k. I know many people send their three-year-olds to preschool, but that just wasn't an option for us financially. Plus, personally, I don't think she's going to learn anything there that she wouldn't learn at home at this age, even without me teaching her a formal preschool curriculum. So I wasn't at all worried about her missing out on it this year.

But when I started to consider homeschooling for pre-k, kindergarten and beyond (the reasons for which I'll get more into in another post), I realized what an incredible opportunity this could be - a learning year for both of us. I could take this year - when she's not yet old enough to qualify for pre-k - and teach her pre-k. See if we mesh well together in a learning environment. See if I can handle the added stress. See if I can handle it at all (I didn't become a teacher for a reason).

It could be more laid back and she'd even possibly end up ahead if all went well.

And, so far, it's going really well.

She loves it. She asks to do school all the time. I'm learning so much about how she learns and how much she can tolerate.

And the best part? I find myself getting excited when it's time to plan for the week. You have no idea what a great sign that is! I worried that the thought of school would give me a headache, leave me feeling overwhelmed and and burned out and like a burden was always on my shoulders. But it doesn't. I love planning and looking online for lessons and preparing for craft projects at night. And I like teaching. I'm finding teachable moments everywhere, which is probably second-nature to you teacher moms, but it wasn't always for me. I like being in the middle of a lesson and realizing there are things I can teach them that I hadn't even planned on telling them about. And I love seeing them catch on and listening as they, later, excitedly tell others what we're working on.


Yes, "them." It'd be nearly impossible for Luke not to be a part of this. He and Clara have always been attached at the hip and it was just natural to include him in preschool. There's a clear differentiation between their abilities, but we aren't doing anything that can't be geared to both of them. Clara writes her letters while Luke scribbles. It works for us.

And it's not like he's too far behind. He knows all his letters and the sounds they make and can tell me what letter most any word starts with (thanks, LeapPad!).

So what is it that we're actually doing?

Well, I don't follow a specific curriculum just yet. I worked out a schedule that works for us right now and we do that one day a week at our kitchen table. We start with morning prayer (don't forget this or they WILL remind me!), singing a "Days of the Week" song I literally made up on the fly week one and they have since fallen in love with (we also use it to learn opposites - we sing it fast and slow, loud and quiet), we then do the date and the weather on our calendar board. Next, we usually start a lesson on our letter of the week, which includes reading a book that highlights the letter (a book about pirates for "P", apples for "A", caterpillars for "C"), learning what the uppercase and lowercase looks like, tracing it with our fingers in salt, writing it with crayons/markers, and making a craft out of that week's letter.

Best part of homeschooling - my house is filled with a rainbow of kid-art!

We then move into the living room for rug time (they've had their fill of sitting in chairs at this point), where I start by reading to them from this book about Jesus' miracles or a book about the lives of the saints, then reading them one or two library books. They then have quiet reading time (or "time for Mommy to feed the baby") with a book of their choice.

Finally, it's time for closing prayer and we're done. And they are usually D-O-N-E. Clara, especially. She's usually totally into it until our last book, when she's usually laid out flat on the floor,  fake-snoring (I'd stop sooner, and have, if they show me they can tolerate less on a particular day).

Believe it or not (and you'd believe it for sure if you saw how I did homework in high school), I came up with that format for our preschool the night before we first began and it's kind of stuck. The kids really seem to like the formal aspect of "doing school" around the table. They even call me "teacher," which I SWEAR I never told them to say.

So that's our one formal day, but the activities that fall under the "preschool" heading are vast and are, really, things that most toddlers are doing already. I have stepped up our activities, though, in an attempt to really give them as much opportunity for learning as possible (read:less TV). I try to take them to story hour at the library if our schedule permits, we do other crafts here and there (like making their own mosaics after seeing them on a recent visit to the Basilica in DC), we always find opportunities to do some baking, and they're always coloring and working on their letters. Clara also really likes working on work books, so I'll let her do some of that here and there while Luke is napping.


They also go to the gym with us a few times a week where they take part in a kids exercise class (socialization for the win!).

We've also been pleasantly surprised by the reactions of those around us. Our families are supportive and have helped me out with ideas and lessons. And the other day I received an entire preschool and kindergarten curriculum in the mail, out of the blue. It was from an occupational therapist friend of my mom's (who works with my two sisters at their elementary school), who is excited that I'm homeschooling and wants to help. She also sent me this program that she designed for teaching letters to preschoolers. It was so incredibly generous. And just knowing someone like her (someone who devotes her life to education and works in the public school system) supports my decision gives me so much confidence in what I'm doing.

So we're going strong, for now! Yes, it's just preschool. But I figure it's a lot like being a parent - even though I can't imagine parenting older children, each year prepares you for the next. You grow and learn and and change along with them. And we're taking it one year at a time. We don't know what the future holds, we just know this works for us right now. And they're loving it, which is the most important thing. The other day, I listened as Clara and a little friend were each talking all about their respective preschools. It warmed my heart! 

School photo - Fall 2013

I'm sure I'll post about homeschooling from time to time, and I plan on writing about why we chose to do this (beyond the financial reason to do preschool, which I mentioned above). I have so many thoughts! Including, how the very LAST thing I would have thought I'd be doing when I was younger was homeschooling my children as an adult. Funny how life can surprise you.

Surrendering control

Lately, when I have a moment to actually let my mind wander (which isn't often, thankfully, at least in this case), I have been lamenting the fact that I can't conceive at will. And that I may not (probably won't) ever be pregnant again.

Thank God that I don't lose any sleep over this any more, or allow it to send me into a tailspin of despair. I have had enough of that over the years and it's no longer a part of my life, no thanks to me or anything I did or any higher spiritual plane that I am on, of course. I simply have three babies who keep me busy and fill my home and heart with joy.

It's easy to not be sad with the miracles I have been given.

But that control thing. It gets me every time. Despite my blessings, I sometimes do get a tad bit sad, and jealous, and all the emotions that come along with infertility (just much more muted now). I want more kids and I can't just make that happen. I don't want the baby years to be over. I want a big family. I want to be able to decide how many we have. I want a second positive test. In the words of Veruca Salt, I want what I want and I want it now!

Of course, I know there are lessons to be learned. I'm not in control, none of us are. Even the ones who decide how many babies to have, when to stop.. they're not in control either. I know this. And I also know that, if I were fertile, I'd totally be one of those women who would just be so proud of my big, Catholic, NFP-using family. Too proud. I just know I'd be.

Thankfully, God is saving me from myself. So there's that.

This morning I had a little mini-awakening on this very topic. There's this statue of Our Lady in the front yard of a home near us that we pass almost every day. I have the kids trained to say a Hail Mary as we drive by and then pray for any intentions they may have.

Today, on our way from story hour to the gym, we passed it and we were all reminded by Clara that we needed to pray. After the kids asked God to bless their several in-utero cousins, I asked, "what about for another baby for us?" (they've been praying for that almost their whole lives at this point), to which Clara replied, "But Mama, we already have a baby and her name is Essie."

Touche.

Not stopping there, I went on to ask, "But don't you want us to have another?" To which she answered, "We'll have another baby later, Mama."

Not surprisingly, the crazy in me took this to be a sign, like God speaking through my three-year-old. But that's not the point here. The point is that Clara was exactly right. We do have a baby. And her name is Essie.

What am I doing getting all worked up about wanting another so soon?

And I don't just have a baby. I have the most unbelievable little package of sweetness there ever was.

And she's only nine months. She's still technically, medically-speaking, a BABY. (Even if she is eating more than Luke at this point.)

But, that brings me back to my original point. It's really not about a baby. It's about control. (Okay, so it's a little about babies. And the strange [at least in some circles] desire to need a passenger van.) And I need only look at my three little miracles to see what God is capable of when you hand him over the reigns. Not that I actually willingly handed Him anything, let's get that straight. I was forced to have no control by my infertility. It would be a bit of an exaggeration to call it surrendering. I'd say more like it was ripped from my hands as I hung on with all my might. And then, as is bound to happen once you suddenly lose your grip, I was forcefully catupulted backwards. Into a brick wall. Or at least that's what it felt like at the time.

But maybe now, because it's a lot easier this time around with my kids and all, I can work on that surrendering thing. Every time I'm encountered with pregnancy envy, I can say something like this: "Lord, I surrender my fertility to you. You are in control. You know what's best for me and my family and you have showed me that in abundance."

And that's an understatement. I have been given more blessings than should be legal.

So why do I still struggle with this? It's only human, I suppose. We actually have so little control of everything that we grasp where we (think we) can get some. And it'd be nice to plan your family. Convenient. It would make life easier. But I can't. So I won't.

It might happen, "later," like Clara said. And it may not. But right now I'm going to hug my baby (and my two big ones) tight and try my best to work on being okay with the "may not." 

Because, God, you've got this. Just help me to remember that.