The Toddler and the Allium: A Parable

Well, we're already gearing up for our third week of school...

I don't know where the summer went. Wait, scratch that--I know exactly where it went. It went to North Dakota, then South Dakota, then South Dakota again, then Montana... with about a million hours spent on Wyoming highways. And to Home Depot a couple dozen times so we could paint most of the main floor of our house.

Regardless, it went too fast. And as I sit here wondering who put me in charge of the education of these four little goofballs and if it's May yet, I find myself praying for flexibility. No, not the do-the-splits kind--although I guess that would be pretty neat too--the resilience kind.

The allium kind.

We bought our house four years ago last month. When we moved in, the grass was alive and the trees were flourishing--and that was about it. We had no idea what the spring would bring in the yard and front flower/weed bed. That first spring in our house was a glorious surprise. The front bed exploded with flowers that looked exactly like big purple fireworks on a long, straight stem. Google informed me that they were alliums, and I loved them.

Last fall we had to dig up the whole front bed to replace the (non)retaining wall. I salvaged as many of the allium bulbs as I could, with every intention of replanting them. (Maybe I'll finally get around to it this fall... as of right now they're still sitting in a pot in the garage.)

I didn't take a picture of this year's May snow,
but I took a picture of Colette all bundled up to play in it.
She was not a fan.

But lo and behold! This spring up popped at least a dozen alliums. Despite the total upheaval of the retaining wall project, many of the bulbs survived and bloomed right on schedule. Which means, of course, right in time for our annual May blizzard.

That has been the story every spring. The alliums shoot up and blossom, and then we get a heavy spring snow.

But you know what? They don't care.


They bend and bow under the weight of the snow. All seems lost and frozen and destroyed. But then the snow melts, and they go on blooming. Sure, some of them are no longer exactly vertical, but they shrug off the snow and go on being glorious and lovely and springy.

one of my darling allium AFTER the snow melted

On the other side of the flexibility spectrum is Colette. For the last six or so months she has been quite... particular... at bedtime. Some nights more so, some nights less, but in general things have to be exactly right for her to settle down and go to sleep. And of course, the crucial details change from night to night--and sometimes in the middle of the bedtime routine.

Her water bottle must be placed just so.


She must have this blanket and not that one.

She wants a particular book, but she wants to turn the pages randomly back and forth.

The blanket must be covering her feet but not pulled tight around her.


She needs her doll. Her doll must fold her hands while we say prayers. I must acknowledge that her doll is praying with us.

She doesn't want me to pray.

She wants me to say prayers again.

She needs another drink of water.

mornings are rough when you fight bedtime
(it was milk, promise)

She wants me to sing songs. I start with whatever was her favorite last night, but no--she wants row row. So I start singing "Row, Row, Row Your Boat." She changes her mind and wants uppabove. But halfway through "Twinkle Twinkle Little Star" she asks for moon.

You get the picture. I can't even learn and anticipate her demands because they're different every night. This has been going on in roughly the same form for almost a quarter of her life. It has made for many long, frustrating bedtimes. Of course I acquiesce to the little sleep-tyrant, because my mothering motto is "whatever it takes." And that is especially true when it comes to sleep!

After a month or so of the ridiculousness we did start pushing back, and she has gotten much better. She is slowly learning to adapt to conditions that are not exactly to her liking, my sweet, strong-willed little girl.

Colette's bedtime antics forced me to realize something: I am not an allium. I am very particular, strong-willed, totally arbitrary toddler who wants things HER WAY OR ELSE.

this is a perfect summary of her personality:
my fierce, sweet little warrior-princess

When the snow storms of life crush me (or, honestly, even just chill me a little), I don't wait them out patiently and spring back up as best I can to get on with blooming. I cry and scream and kick and yell "NO" and demand something different. Which works about as great for me with God as it does for Colette with me.

I am so far from weathering the storms of my life with consistent trust and patience. But this has been my prayer through the summer and especially now as we begin working our way through the school year. The first weeks have been crazy. Good, but so hard. And I'm already so tired. I feel like the smallest thing is enough to totally derail me--mentally and emotionally. But I know I just need to let go. Adapt. Adjust. Stop wishing it could be some other way right this moment. Be present.

So. Here's to trust, not tantrums--child-like, not childish. Lord, not my will, but yours.

7 Quick Takes (vol. 41) -- The Laudato Si' Edition

I know I'm a bit late to the game with responses to Pope Francis' encyclical Laudato Si', but I'm late with pretty much everything these days. And of course it's never too late to get started. So here are seven ways we've been living out care for our world in our little corner of it. Or maybe I'm just totally exhausted and overwhelmed with toddlerness and third trimesterness and beginning of the school yearness. You decide.

Ready to be awed and inspired?

--- 1 ---

Leave the scrambled eggs on the floor. The 18 month old decided he wanted to dump his breakfast on the floor instead of eating it? No problem. Don't bother cleaning it up--in an hour or so he will rediscover it and eat every. single. crumb. for snack time. The 2 1/2 year old will probably help. Team work? Check. Waste not, want not? Check. Clean(ish) floor without breaking out the broom? Check.

--- 2 ---

Don't pull the weeds. So maybe you had grand plans for landscaping and gardening and all the green thumb things way back in April and May. And maybe the budget for that stuff decided to disappear down the drain of the master bathroom project that became never-ending. And maybe all your creative energy disappeared into growing one tiny human and keeping three others alive and (mostly) happy. But guess what? Bees like the weeds better--and helping out the bees is super important. And the weeds clearly have very low water needs (see next point), and are therefore the environmentally-friendly option. So stop feeling guilty about the overgrown au naturale look of your front flowerbed. Encouraging native flora is definitely Laudato Si'.

an actual bee on an actual weed native wildflower in my actual flower bed

--- 3 ---

Only water the grass/flowers every couple of weeks. Because water is a precious resource. And expensive. And your brownish lawn will make your neighbors feel a lot better about their yards. And if you don't water it you will rarely have to mow. (Note: may be a problem with heathen HOAs).

--- 4 ---

Bathe your children once a month. Or less. Really, if they aren't too smelly or sticky they are totally fine. This encourages a healthy immune system (or something like that) and conserves water. And when you do bathe them, throw as many as you can possibly fit into the bath or shower all at once and scrub away.

--- 5 ---

Bonus points if you combine tip #3 with tip #4 and just kick the kids outside to run through the sprinkler instead of actually showering them.

he looks clean to me!

--- 6 ---

Let the kids run around in their pajamas all day. For multiple days in a row. You will save on water and detergent for laundry and justify uberminimalistcapsule wardrobes. Bedtime is that much easier because everyone is already in their pajamas! Our current record is approximately 72 hours in the same set of pajamas. I can tell that you're impressed.

--- 7 ---

Use as few dishes as possible at mealtimes to save on clean up. This will likely involve the kids eating directly off the table or counter, but you know they weren't going to keep the food on their plates anyway. Silverware is a waste of time and water. And if your kids are anything like mine they sometimes forget that they aren't puppies and lick their food straight off the plates. It may not be acceptable for public, but at home we'll just chalk that one up concern for the environment. Cups, unfortunately, are pretty much necessary at this age... although I can just imagine the boys' excitement if I let them start drinking milk straight out of the jug. We're not that hardcore... yet.

So there you have it. Are you impressed? Horrified? Think you can do better? I'd love to hear it!

Linking up with Kelly for Seven Quick Takes!

Sights and Sounds (and Smells) of My Day

Do you want to know what I'm seeing, hearing, and smelling on this gorgeous autumn day?

One day the leaves were golden, the next they were gone

Don't worry, I'll only share the good smells ;) I promise not to comment on the regrettable change in a certain someone's diapers now that he is happily devouring every single new food offered to him (and even more happily, showing a much greater proficiency and interest in self-feeding than either of his brothers did at this age).

Moving on! To the delicious smell of this soup from Sarah at two Os + more cooking in my crockpot. Having supper prepped--let alone cooking and the kitchen clean--before the end of naptime is almost as mythical an accomplishment in my housewifely repertoire as doing, folding, AND putting away laundry within the same day week. Let's just say I am feeling extremely proud of myself today.

What else?

Some sounds would include loud and dramatic sobbing from Michael, accompanied by the sight of Liam proudly sitting and playing on top of the pile of mulch Michael had so painstakingly built at the bottom of the slide.

Another sound would be the rattle of small, hard object unexpectedly hitting the backdoor, followed by Liam's yells of protestation. The sight immediately following that sound when I opened the door? A large pile of mulch on the back doorstep (a good 40 feet away from where it was supposed to be), a very distraught Liam covered in leaves and mulch standing on the step, and a very guilty-looking Michael running away across the yard.

At lunch there was the (not entirely unexpected) sight of the pile of hotdog pieces Liam meticulously picked out of his mac and cheese. Definitely my son.

Current sight: late afternoon sunlight streaming through the kitchen window. Current sounds: Liam playing with a train, and apologizing whenever he bumps something: "Sossy, sossy" to the cupboards and floor; and John Paul chattering at me through the monitor. Well, that was good timing :)

Our New Best Friend

By all rights I should have posted this in March, but, you know, new baby and stuff.

The last time I brought up potty training I was despairing of Michael ever being potty trained. He would go on the toilet, sometimes, but he didn't seem to care if he also went in his pull-up. He was not motivated by anything. M&Ms, watching a show, stickers, wearing big-boy underwear... "No fank you." I was all set to give up and just have three kids in diapers for. ever.

But then! John Paul was born, and Alex had a week of paternity leave. He worked hard with Michael to give him the consistency that I hadn't been able to give, and Michael was doing pretty well except for the whole #2 thing. We were at a total loss. How do you tell a kid how to poop on command? Seriously.

Our last ditch effort was a combination of stickers and a big reward. Michael got a sticker on his chart every time he peed in the toilet, and he was promised a big reward when he finally went poop. Alex and my dad (in town for JP's baptism) took Michael to Walmart to pick out his very own reward. His cousins are big into the Avengers, so I was expecting his to come home with Captain America or maybe Thor. And I was pretty much fine with that. Obviously he needed to be in charge of letting us know what would motivate him, since all of our ideas were total failures (even the Thomas stickers... I thought for sure those would be such a hit).

Well. The guys came home shortly, and Michael proudly produced his reward: the Hulk. Big, green, ugly, angry. Not a toy I would have picked out for him. I gave Alex an "Are you serious?" look, and Alex explained that they didn't have any Captain America figures and Michael really wanted this Hulk. Oh well. We put the box up on the windowsill in the bathroom, and Michael could have his new toy as soon as he pooped in the toilet.

But it worked! Within 24 hours of bring "Hoch" home Michael did poop in the toilet, and he hasn't had a poop-related accident since (knock on wood... oh please don't let me jinx this)! We continued to use the sticker chart for several weeks to help work on a good attitude about going potty when told to do so, and it was helpful for a while. Michael has had several minor accidents (mostly getting distracted playing and just not quite making it to the bathroom in time) and two or three bigger ones (where he apparently didn't realize he was even peeing until he was completely done). 

Alex suggested trying underwear at night about a month or so after JP was born, and I told him he was welcome to try it if he wanted, but as I was going to be nursing the baby all night he would be the one changing sheets when Michael inevitably wet the bed the first night in underwear. Needless to say we waited, but for the last several weeks he has been waking up during the night to go potty (usually pretty traumatic--he is so tired and doesn't want to be awake), and so a few nights ago we finally took the plunge. He is doing great.

So. Thus endeth the potty training epic (unless M totally regresses because I finally got around to blogging about his success). It is still my least favorite thing about parenting, but I feel slightly less despairing about Liam's turn coming up in another two years or so. Besides, now that Michael is potty trained it is going to be his job to potty train his brothers. I'm done.

My Day By the Numbers

Number of ...

• windows open to enjoy the gorgeous weather: all of them
• new outfits necessitated by accidents involving bodily fluids: 3
• catnaps JP took instead of taking a real morning nap: 3
• toys taken from their rightful place and strewn about the living room: 90% of all upstairs toys
• puzzles taken out of their boxes and mixed with pieces of other puzzles: 2
• times I read "Little Blue Truck": 5ish
• miller moths found (and destroyed) in my bedroom in the last 24 hours: 2
• hours all three boys napped simultaneously: 2.5
• times I got to go to the bathroom uninterrupted before Alex got home: 1
• books placed in the (ever-growing) "to be taped back together" pile: 1.5 (still need to find the other half of one of them...)
• diapers changed: ha! you think I can count that high?
• loads of laundry I did today: 0
• loads of clean laundry I meant to fold but didn't get around to: 1
• loads of dirty laundry I really really need to do tomorrow: 3
• times I paused to thank God for the crazy-but-beautiful life: more than usual :)

So Much Fail

Wow. How's that for a depressing title? It will also contain commentary on bodily fluids and the elimination habits of said fluids--you've been warned.

Mostly it's failure to go into labor. Which isn't really failure at only 39 weeks 1 day. And at my appointment yesterday I learned that John Paul is in excellent position and my OB is on call tomorrow night... so, I'm hoping and praying for labor to start in approximately 28 hours. Come on JP, don't you want to start your ex utero life out as Mama's supremely cooperative little boy?

If only.

I also failed at the 7 posts in 7 days challenge. I pretty much expected to fail at that one, but I was hoping I would miss a day or two because of, you know, having a baby. Noooope, just busy/tired/internet issues (after 5 minutes on the phone with CenturyLink, pushing various buttons to get various other recordings, "It sounds like you'll need to talk to a representative for this." Um, yeah, that's why I called. Thanks. Also, the "Did you know you can chat with a tech support representative online" tip? Not helpful when I am calling because my internet is BROKEN. And yes, I did try resetting my router before I called you. At least three times. But of course I'll try again...)

Sorry... where was I?

Oh, fail #1, fail #2, and fail #3: potty training (not a bodily fluids person? you can skip the rest!)

I should have blogged about potty training last week when we were experiencing some exciting success. Then it would have been a "this is hard and I hate it above pretty much all other aspects of parenting, but I do believe there is hope" post. Today? Today I probably shouldn't write about potty training (other than to write that I'm not writing about potty training... just go with it) because it is more likely to be a "hate. fail. okayfinejustweardiapersorpullupsforeveridontevencare" post.

Oh well.

We started potty training in January. It is now March. Last week we had a major break-through--Michael went on the "big potty" at Cici's house--first time going anywhere other than on his little singing (yes, singing) potty chair at our house. And then within two days he decided he was done with his little chair and was going consistently and exclusively on the toilet. And keeping his pull-up dry (mostly). Still no #2 action whatsoever in any kind of potty chair of any size, but it was nice to feel like we were making some fairly significant progress. I was starting to believe that there actually was hope, and after two months of traveling down this tunnel we had maybe turned a corner and there was light visible at the other end...

This week I think he can sense my utter exhaustion and total distraction with thinking/hoping that labor is right around the corner. He simply doesn't care if his pull-up is wet or dry. He'll try to go potty if we remind him, but even when I'm trying to remind him at consistent and very short intervals, I'll inevitably miss the magic moment and five minutes later he has a wet pull-up. Again. And he is totally unpredictable with what motivates him. We were doing M&Ms for a while, and backed off when he started being really consistent about keeping his pull-up dry. I tried going back to offering treats and most of the time his response is "No fank you." Well, at least he's polite about being indifferent to potty training, I guess.

Okay, enough complaining. Let's end on a happier note.

We got Michael a David & Goliath puzzle for his birthday, and he loves it. We've been working on talking about the story, and I'm starting to think that maybe Veggie Tales, while great for a lot of things, isn't the best medium for teaching Bible stories to preschoolers.

Ash: What was the giant's name?
M: Goliaf.
Ash: And who was the boy?
M: David!
Ash: And even though David was so much smaller than Goliath, he won when they had a fight. Why did David win, Michael?
M: Because Goliaf was a pickle!

source

7 Quick Takes (vol. 35)

--- 1 ---

Whoops! Better late than never, right? I finally added the video of Michael reading to Liam to Thursday's post.

--- 2 ---

I meant to post yesterday, I really really did. I felt a bit like Cinderella yesterday--I had all this work I needed to get done before I could go to the ball. Okay, not really a ball; it was the Biblical School's annual fundraiser gala. But an evening out with Alex without the boys! Might as well be a ball :) And I got to go even though I didn't quite complete everything on my (rather detailed and extensive) to-do list (but it was close!). Laundry, baking, cleaning... it's a good thing I didn't have to sew my own dress before going out last night, because instead of very helpful and creative mice to do my tasks for me I had two overtired, rather clingy little "helpers" following me around all day.

I also meant to get a picture of Alex and me all dressed up for our (probably) last date night for a while, but I totally forgot. I assure you that he was absolutely dashing, as usual, and as long as I didn't look in a mirror I didn't feel absolutely huge. Comments garnered by my 9-month-preggo belly for the evening ranged from "You're due in a week and a half? Oh, you have some time then" (what is that supposed to mean? time for what?) to "You're due in a week and a half? What are you doing here tonight?!" (to which I replied that there was a hospital just down the street, so we were just fine). And only one person commented on my indulgence in a single overpriced but much needed (and thoroughly enjoyed) glass of white zin.

--- 3 ---

So I'm slightly ashamed for falling off the 7 posts in 7 days bandwagon... but mostly I'm just thankful that skipping a day of promised posting when I'm less than two weeks away from my due date didn't earn me a multitude of texts, emails, Facebook messages, etc. demanding to know if I was in labor. It probably just goes to show that no one was paying that close of attention, but I'll take it. "So have you had that baby yet?" messages are not my favorite... I'm always tempted to answer "Yep, but I wasn't going to tell you" and leave it at that.

--- 4 ---

Speaking of things people say to pregnant people, I've gotten off pretty easy this time around (or maybe I'm just developing a thicker skin, or something along those lines). However, after Mass last Sunday an older gentleman did stop to comment that I had "a nice big watermelon there." He was very good natured and also told us "We did the same thing. Good for you!" for having three so close together. So I wasn't exactly insulted but... really? A watermelon?

--- 5 ---

Regardless of when John Paul decides to grace us with his ex-utero presence, I am officially on maternity leave now. No more two hour roundtrip commutes three times a week! Hooray! I am thoroughly looking forward to this break, and intend to take as many naps as possible, especially while there are only two children to convince to sleep simultaneously (starting with a wonderful nap today--a promising beginning).

--- 6 ---

Maternity leave means I also have more time to watch this child exercise his newly discovered climbing skills and try to keep him from diving head first off of anything. I want to be thrilled with excellent gross motor skill development, really I do. But I would've been just fine if he wanted to wait another couple months to start climbing everything.

--- 7 ---

On the subject of newly developing skills, Michael and Liam have been playing really well together recently. M does a fairly good job of sharing (you know, for a three year old) with his cousins and friends his age, but now that Liam is big enough to be interested in most of the same toys and to do something about it? We had a couple weeks with screaming as the constant soundtrack to our day: Michael screaming because Liam grabbed a toy he was playing with (or had played with earlier, or thought he might want to play with later, or had recently looked at, or whatever), Liam screaming when Michael took the toy back, Michael screaming louder when Liam bit him after he took his toy back (only happened once so far... fingers crossed that it can be blamed on teething and won't become a habit), Liam screaming because Michael was screaming, etc. But for the last week or so there has been a noticeable decrease in the screaming. It's still there, but M is making strides in using his words to express his displeasure when Liam steals a toy and he at least occasionally remembers that Liam can be very easily distracted with a different toy--and that this is a much more effective tactic than melting into a puddle of screaming on the floor.

Go see Jen and the rest for quicker and timelier takes!!!  

Night Prayer

Parenting WIN: Michael starting out Night Prayer on his own with "Father, Son, Holy... Assistance" (close enough to "God, come to my assistance") and then whispering every fifth or sixth word of the Salve along with us as we sing.

Parenting FAIL: Me snorting as I try to hold back a laugh in the middle of Night Prayer whilst watching Michael go cross-eyed and puff out his cheeks like a blowfish in an attempt to blow his nose all by himself.  Man I wish I had a picture of that...

I fell in love with the Liturgy of the Hours the summer after my freshman year of college while on mission trip with FOCUS in Peru.  Okay, to be precise I fell in love with Night Prayer, because it was short and we prayed it in English.  We prayed Morning Prayer in Spanish and it felt about 12 times longer than it actually was.

Madrigal, in the Colca Canyon somewhere high above Arequipa, Peru

It wasn't until much more recently that I fell in love with Morning Prayer (in English).  But I prayed Night Prayer pretty faithfully all through college and beyond.  Alex loved it too, and somehow it was just a natural transition--I don't even really remember it as a conscious choice--to start praying it with Michael as part of his bedtime routine.  (It was probably a matter of us generally being too tired or forgetting if we waited until we were about to go to bed, and Michael's bedtime was a convenient compromise.)

It has been such a wonderful thing for our family.  There are certainly nights of "No pray! No pray!" and Michael singing and doing gymnastics or just whining through most of the prayer.  But there are also nights (like tonight) where he does his best to say the psalms and prayers along with us.  And I know that he's absorbing even more than we can see as he hears the same psalms and prayers night after night and week after week.

Praying Night Prayer together has been such a blessing to our family, along with our nightly rituals of storytime (we're finishing up The Hobbit... not sure where we're going to head next... suggestions?) and songs.  I can't wait until Liam's bedtime lines up with Michael's a little better.  Right now Liam goes to bed right about when we're all eating supper, so we haven't figured out a joint bedtime routine yet.  Soon!

What are your favorite bedtime rituals--from your parents, or with your own children?  I'd love to hear!

From 2 to 3...

Um, diaper sizes, that is.  Not children, or number of part time jobs I work in addition to being a stay at home mom, or anything crazy like that.

Sorry if I scared you/got your hopes up.

But seriously, the difference between size 2 and size 3 diapers is crazy enough.  I generally don't get all sentimental when the boys outgrow their clothes, but for whatever reason if I'm going to tear up over anything growth-related I do it when they move up a size in diapers (I'm sure it will be tears of a different kind when M moves out of diapers completely, but we're definitely not there yet).

How can size 3 be so much bigger than 2?  And how can my little Liam already be this big, and almost 6 months?

And on the other hand, why isn't he 2 yet?  No, not really.  But kind of.  I promise I'm not wishing time away (too much), but I have to admit that despite the occasional (or not so occasional) tantrum and the constant "No! Self!" I am loving the sleeping-through-the-night (mostly) and communicating-pretty-darn-well (in general) of toddlerhood.

But happy-baby-bouncing-and-smiling-all-the-time is pretty awesome too :)

Happy Lent!

Oh, Lent doesn't start until Wednesday?  Well, it started early for our family.  Last night the boys--both of whom are suffering from nasty little colds--decided that as a family we should give up sleep for the good of our souls.  Or something like that.  I'm going to keep on believing that they just want holy parents, because it almost makes it easier.  Almost.

Here's a summary of our (thankfully atypical) night:

7:30pm  We arrive home from cousin Caraline's 7th birthday party, tired, coughing, runny noses, but mostly happy.

8:00pm  Liam is more or less asleep after nursing for ever (oh, only 20 minutes? close enough).  Alex rocks him while I read our half chapter of Narnia to Michael for bedtime.  We pray Night Prayer and sing our Salve without incident.

8:20pm  Both boys are dosed with Tylenol, in bed, asleep.  Alex goes downstairs to kill aliens for a while (on the computer, as far as I know), and I sit down to the ever exciting game of "how much milk can I pump tonight?" as we try to build up a stash to allow us to go out for a super long date night next weekend.  I say "we" like it's a joint effort... Alex does provide moral support... Michael sort of provides moral support as well, or at least is highly entertained whenever I get milk for "Elmo."

10:39pm  After staying up later than intended enjoying some much-needed time to ourselves, Alex and I finally settle down for the night.  Or so we think.

10:40pm  Michael wakes up and not happy.  Alex goes to get him, and after listening to crying, coughing, and some very pathetic Mama! Mama!s from the other room for about five minutes, I go in to help.  Michael calms down with me, and I send Alex to bed while I settle M back down.

10:50pm  M is back to sleep, and I head back to bed.

11:00pm   I come back to our room to discover Alex rocking an awake and not very happy L.  I take over and send Alex back to bed, and L starts nursing like he's never going to eat again.

11:25pm  M wakes up again.  Alex goes and puts him back down.

11:40pm  Alex comes back to bed.  L is done nursing, but sleeping very fitfully and I can't put him down yet.

11:45pm  M wakes up again.  I hand off L to Alex and I go to put M back down.

11:50pm  I get M back to sleep and come back to sit with Alex while L finishes settling down.

11:57pm  L is finally fast asleep and lets Alex put him down.  We finally get to go to bed.

2:00am  M wakes up.  Alex goes to get him, and I follow with another dose of Tylenol.  When M sees me he decides he wants me instead of Alex, so I send Alex back to bed.

2:13am  I go back to bed and lie there waiting for L to wake up, because that's just what's likely to happen.

4:30am  L wakes up hungry.

5:00pm  I put a sleeping L down and he wakes up immediately.  I take him to bed with me and he falls back to sleep.

5:58pm  L wakes up again, but goes back to sleep after nursing for a few minutes.

6:30am  Our alarm goes off.  Time to get ready for Mass.

So, according to the Parents' Sleep Index I'm only functioning on a little over an hour of sleep.  Ergo, early Lent.

I can't even speak like a grown up anymore...

Even before Michael was born I knew that as a stay-at-home-mom I was going to have to make a special effort to maintain even minimal levels of adult conversation and intellectual stimulation.  It was rough with just an infant, but I could still find time to read and watch (way too much) Netflix--so even if I wasn't actually interacting with other adults during the 12+ hours each day that Alex was at work/school/coaching, at least I was exposed to adult conversation.

But now that I have the joy and honor (seriously) of being a SAHM to a two year old and  an infant, even the simulated adult interaction of books and Downton Abbey are not enough to save me from talking like my toddler.  I don't know how many times a day I catch myself telling Michael "Yes, Elmo--has a messy diaper... no, you have to eat the cereal too and not just the fraisins... would you like awffles for breakfast?... yes, you may have a cheese tilla for lunch... no, you may not have a doochdie until after dinner... is your head owie? do you need mooches?... Michael, we use our nammits for the ketchup on our faces, not on our plates... no, this oashan is only for bottoms, not for hands..." etc.  And it's all completely unintentional.  I have no intention of referring to my second born as Elmo instead of Liam, but that's what I hear all day.  I know they're really raisins and waffles, but it's just easier to call them fraisins and awffles for some reason.

Sure, sometimes we do it on purpose because it's cute, like when Alex and I tell each other Happy Noo Yee-a! before going to bed.  But most of the time I just find myself talking like a two year old without meaning to.

Please tell me this is normal...

Playing in the 'no

Lessons in Humility: Hurt feelings and an epic motherhood fail

What better way to celebrate a Marian feast day than with some lessons in humility?  Lucky me, Our Lady of Guadalupe sent me three on Wednesday!

Litany of Humility

O Jesus! meek and humble of heart, hear me. 

Virgin of Extreme Humility

From the desire of being esteemed, Deliver me, Jesus. 

From the desire of being loved... 

From the desire of being extolled ... 

From the desire of being honored ... 

From the desire of being praised ... 

From the desire of being preferred to others... 

From the desire of being consulted ... 

From the desire of being approved ... 

From the fear of being humiliated ... 

From the fear of being despised... 

From the fear of suffering rebukes ... 

From the fear of being calumniated ... 

From the fear of being forgotten ... 

From the fear of being ridiculed ... 

From the fear of being wronged ... 

From the fear of being suspected ... 

That others may be loved more than I, Jesus, grant me the grace to desire it. 

That others may be esteemed more than I ... 

That, in the opinion of the world others may increase and I may decrease ... 

That others may be chosen and I set aside ... 

That others may be praised and I unnoticed ... 

That others may be preferred to me in everything... 

That others may become holier than I, provided that I may become as holy as I should.

Amen.

~ Rafael Cardinal Merry del Val (1865-1930), 

Secretary of State for Pope Saint Pius X

I heard this litany for the first time several years ago, but it wasn't until this past summer that I was able to bring myself to actually pray it even once.  Talk about a difficult prayer... "That others may be chosen and I set aside... that others may be praised and I unnoticed"?  Are you kidding me?  Well, as it turns out, if one prays for the grace to desire these things then they probably won't sting nearly as much when they inevitably happen.

Last night I found out that I'd been passed over for a writing opportunity which I had considered pretty much a sure thing.  I'd gotten to work on the first part of the project last spring and had gotten nothing but positive feedback, along with indications that I would very likely be working on the next part.  But somewhere along the line it had been decided to handle this part of the project differently, and the first I heard about it was last night.  I was crushed.  And hurt.  And kinda sorta mad.  I had gotten some pretty high praise from the general editor of the project for my previous work, so his statement that they'd decided to go with a "professional writer" for the rest of it made that previous praise sound like "you do great work... for an amateur."  I'm sure that was not at all the intention, but it was hard not to take it personally.

That others may be preferred to me in everything, Jesus, grant me the grace to desire it.

Desire it?  Heck, grant me the grace to not burst into tears at the moment (I didn't, barely) and we'll work on the whole "desiring it" thing when I'm waaay holier.

On yesterday's beautiful feast day celebrating Our Mother I also got a nice little reminder of just how easy it is to fail in my vocation as mother.  All in all it was a pretty minor failure, but at the time it felt fairly epic.  At nap time I put a semi-awake Liam down in his bassinet so I could put a very-awake Michael down for his nap in his crib.  After putting Michael down I checked on Liam who was, much to my delight, mostly asleep. I ran downstairs to reheat the soup I got out for my lunch almost an hour previously, and I flipped the switch to turn on Liam's monitor without really looking at it.  Twenty minutes later I was finishing up my soup and thinking how wonderful it was that Liam was still asleep, when I thought I heard a slight sound from upstairs. But the monitor was on, and the sound hadn't come through the monitor, so it must not be the baby.  Right?  I looked at the monitor to make sure, and to my horror it was not, in fact on.  The switch was set to "on," but it wasn't plugged in and the battery was dead.  Great.  Liam had been yelling for who knows how long, while I sat downstairs eating my soup in blissful ignorance.  I went upstairs and nursed Liam back to sleep, after which I turned the monitor back on--checking carefully this time to make sure it was, in fact, on.  It was.  At the time I thought about turning Michael's monitor on as well, but I didn't because the receivers get angry when they're both on right next to each other, and to leave both on I would have to find another place to plug one in.  I decided I would just check in on Michael in a little bit.  It sounds like a super lame reason now, but at the time it seemed perfectly valid.  Half an hour or so later I was thinking how thankful I was that both boys were still napping, and hoping they would continue for a little longer so I could take a shower, when I again heard a noise from upstairs.  Sure enough, Michael was awake and calling very pitifully for Cici--presumably because he had already tried calling for Mama, and she clearly wasn't interested in answering.  I felt awful, because from the tone of his cries he had been calling for some time.  I went in and cuddled him very repentantly, and by some miracle he went back to sleep.  I knew I needed to take my shower now or never, but lo and behold, when I came out of Michael's room Liam was awake again.  I did eventually get my shower (I know you were very concerned for me), and sleepless babies are not necessarily a failure on my part (although they certainly feel like it), but multiple fails with the monitors was, for whatever reason, very humbling yesterday.

The third lesson was a fairly common one for me--sending an incomplete email.  This one, however, was particularly humbling as the email was to my Biblical School students to remind them to complete all the questions on their homework assignments and not just skip the ones they didn't feel like answering.  I started to end the email with "Our Lady of Guadalupe, pray for us," but got distracted and hit "send" before I typed "pray for us."  So I immediately had to send another email explaining that I wasn't trying to impersonate Our Lady or imply that she was particularly concerned about completed homework.  My students very justly (and kind-heartedly) teased me about it at both classes today.

From the fear of being ridiculed, Deliver me Jesus.

That one is actually a bit easier than several of the others...

So what did I learn from all this?  That as hard (and scary) as it is, I really need to spend more time praying for humility.  Those opportunities to practice it are going to come one way or another, and they'll definitely be easier if I've asked to be prepared for them!