On Deep Cleaning

Deep cleaning and sorting lots of toys. 

Why do my children have so many rocks? 

We have so much doll stuff. So much. 

I get a tiny bit obsessive about sorting and storing. And I mean down to what sits next to what on the shelves...all the toys that's build, hot wheels and superheroes should be near each other...and on and on it goes.

None of my containers match. None. Strangely enough, this does not bother me.

Why do my children have so many seashells?

The three year old likes to "help".  

I am both disgusted by and proud of how much my vacuum picks. 

Which leads me to wonder if the big kids actually vacuumed the basement all those times they were instructed to.

Very grateful for A.C.

Wish I had a fitbit. Because wow, countless trips up and down stairs.

This is just the opening act. Up next, the little girls room. The most frightening room in the house.

The Least of These

Can you imagine feeling so desperate and frightened for the future and life of your child that you would place them in a car, on a bus, in a plane alone, hoping that a family member far away will be able to find and care for them, knowing that the people your child is with only care for them as far the amount of cash you've handed over? Can you?
I talk often about the real moral evils my children deal with every day. And I rightly worry about the culture of death I battle every single day. They are real and frightening. But, they have a roof over their head, good food, clothing. If they went to school, I would not live in constant dread that they might not come home. I don't worry about gangs forcing me to pay "protection" money. I don't fear them witnessing a brutal attack on their father or rape of their mother.
I can't imagine feeling like the only hope for my child is sending them far away, indefinitely.
This is what I keep in mind as this whole "immigration" debate unfolds. These children are not criminals or somehow morally corrupt. They are innocent children. A culture of life does not criminalize them and simply demand their immediate removal back to the life-threatening situation they came from. We can do better. This is not about "open borders" or forgetting about the rule of law. Properly caring for these children does not mean either of those things. It is our duty as Christians to care for them mercifully and humanely.

Around the World

Soccer.

More soccer.

World Cup Soccer.

Carmen is so excited. Four years ago, when she was 10, she watched all but 2 games of the entire tournament. She already loved playing. But that summer ignited a burning passion for the beautiful game that has grown stronger these past 4 years. Now an avid fan, the names of these international players are as familiar to her as pop stars are to girls her age.

I am ready to savor the thrill and excitement of the next month right along with her.

Here we go!

In the World

I was struck this morning on this first day of Lent, of how the Divine Office urges us to be active in the world. Even as we "retreat" spiritually through these 40 days. I loved the words from Isaiah calling us to active participation to minister to those around us, "our own". What an amazing promise, that even as we give of ourselves,

"He will give strength to your bones

and you shall be like a watered garden,

like a spring of water

whose waters never run dry."

Never run dry. Oh my. Rebuilding foundations. Such power in these words. Lord, grant me the grace to live them these 40 days.

Then and Now

This is to the mom at Wegman's today. You were having lunch with your four children, all little. You chatted with them. You had to tell the toddler to stop touching her brother's food. You had to promise another slice of pizza. You juggled a baby in your lap. Your oldest boy took the antics off his siblings in stride. 

I saw you and I smiled. I helped you clear your table. I know these days. Heck, I still have three little ones under five years old. 

But I have time. Time that seemed to pass slowly at first. Time marked by stinky diapers and tantrums, and first words and learning how to walk. But now? It flies by me, I can hardly keep up. 

Tomorrow my second child turns eighteen. Eighteen. She is grown up and beautiful and so loved by little sisters and brothers. 

I know you are tired mom. I know today at least two of those darlings were supposed to be in school. I told you it's okay. You'll survive this time. You'll look at your husband much too soon and wonder how it is you have adult children already. I know you said this was it, your limit. I know. It's okay. 

But for today I want you to know this. Your oldest? He is sweet. I could see by his easy smile and how he was ready to chat with me. Those middle cuties, they will be best friends before you know it. And that baby? She is stinking cute. Hold on tight, mom. It will go too fast. I promise.

When Life Hands You Split Peas...Make a Salad!

Yesterday I was tired. Beyond tired. The baby, battling a cold, had given me quite the night. Awake at 2 am and angry that I would not let her nurse AND let her pinch and scratch every inch of my exposed flesh. (Why this soothes her, I will never know.) She cried. A lot. I think I did too.

I was a zombie. Between that, the wonky schedule changes because of the weather and the bitter cold, not my best day. By 4 pm I gave in and took a brief nap. I woke up a wee bit better and went to tackle dinner. I did not want to cook. I had planned a lentil salad, only to realize that those were bags of split peas, NOT lentils, sitting in the pantry. I was still so cranky. I was sure I never wanted to look at another pirece of chicken as long as I lived. As I mucked around in the kitchen making dinner, dirtying one pot and pan after another, I apologized to Sam. His chore is dishes after meals. I must have sounded pathetic. My sweet son told me not to apologize. Of course I was getting things dirty, I was cooking the family's dinner. How was I expected to cook without getting some things dirty. Silly mom, don't apologize. 

Right there, a moment of grace and mercy. Even  with my bad attitude, all day, my son showed me in a moment gratitude and mercy. It lifted me up. 

Dinner was delicious. Did you know you can use split peas like you would lentils, just have to watch the cooking time very carefully so they don't become mushy? Yep. Salad was perfectly tasty.

God is good and so is my son. 

Roots and Shoots

Odd title, yes?

When I was a young mother with 4 kids 6 and under, living Advent intentionally was easy. Yes, you heard me. It was easy. It is so simple to prepare those young innocent hearts. So simple to sit down and read beautiful books. Really. As my family grew, I learned what it means to parents teens and young adults. It is a consuming task. I love it, truly. But then somewhere in that hustle and bustle of "big" kid parenting, my new crop of littles have gotten a bit short changed. Some circumstances have been beyond my control. Three of my children have birthdays between December 17th and 26th. That baby born on the 26th, he is turning five this year and his entrance into the world was not without its own drama.

I wanted more this year for my littles. I wanted to make the time to read and craft. I  wanted to make the time to prepare their hearts like I did for older children, not just hoping they'd tag along and just kind of soak it in. I want to hear little voices lisping the Advent song my now 13 year old loved to sing when she was 4. I want us to come to Christmas Eve having made ample room in our hearts for the Divine Infant.

Slowing down is really hard. It takes effort and sometimes hard choices. I'm digging deep, examining and asking of my older children, what rooted this season for you? I am adding and subtracting, finding what is essential and letting traditions once again flourish in our home.

We have always celebrated St. Nicholas. Nothing more than chocolate coins and few other sweet treats left in shoes. We bake Speculaas. This year I mentioned to Lilly (17 year old) that maybe I should do more, like "everyone" else. She strenuously objected. They loved the way we celebrated, why mess with it, why worry about "everyone". Old tradition, deeply rooted.
 
Last year, the day Ella was born, December 19, my older children directed all their little siblings and set up the Christmas tree so it would be up and ready to welcome us when we came home. It still brings tears to my eyes. A new tradition. Ella's birthday will be our tree trimming day.

We are reading our favorite books and adding new ones. Johnny is learning the Advent song and Mara loves "her" candles. They know the Baby is coming and it gives them joy. Me too.