Growing Pains

My baby brother is growing so fast. He went from diapers to size 13 shoes in what seems like an instant. Last year, he had such a massive growth spurt that he was in physical pain, causing him to don crutches for awhile.

Talk about growing pains.

My dear friend Emily posted an encouraging comment on a recent blog post of mine about how she's loved seeing me grow. I couldn't help but think, This is growth? Because it feels more like I'm bumbling along blindly. It takes all my courage to post my least embarrassing efforts on my blog. However, the next line of her comment struck me the most:

While I know it seems like there's always, always room for improvement - and that's true - we have to remember at all times that our Lord (mysteriously) takes DELIGHT in our efforts.

I'm always asking God to bring things to light that I may improve on, no matter how difficult, so that I can continually move closer to becoming who he created me to be. This prayer is so important to me that I named my blog after it. God has been faithful, gently bringing to light my struggles and flaws and giving me the grace to understand and alter them so that I constantly grow. In my silliness, I forgot to check in with Him for a progress report. I brought this to prayer and reflection. Do You really delight in my efforts? Is this possible?

I received a resounding YES. I allowed my own perfectionism and mental self-flogging to make me blind to the most basic understand of God - love. Although growth, especially of the spiritual nature, can be painful, it is fruitful. The only unfruitful pain I was experiencing was that which I was inflicting upon myself.

Refiners don't hone and shape with fluffy white clouds. They use fire to make something beautiful. God is the Great Refiner.
And yet, He is also our Father.
I've watched my husband in just his first year of being a daddy. He's swaddled, soothed, shushed and paced until his arms ached and his voice was hoarse. When all efforts failed to remedy her pain, he just cried along with her. As she is learning how to walk, he sets firm but tender boundaries. He's rejoiced at her growth, no matter how small, and encouraged her efforts.
How could I ever doubt that our perfect heavenly Father would do at least this?

I think I have subconsciously thought that my goal was to be more independent, only needing to turn to Christ when I was failing, but I was mistakenly viewing Heaven with earthly eyes. The pain of our growth comes not from learning how to be self sufficient, but learning how to hand over our will and become completely dependent on God.

Growing pains are inevitable. His grace is sufficient.

Don't kill the Time Sucker...repurpose it.

First Time Sucker: Television:
In the beginning of college, I didn't watch a lot of TV. I would occasionally indulge in a movie on a rainy day, but I spent most of the time hanging out with friends and exploring. Oh, and studying, of course. (my dad reads this blog, you know.)

But then I got married and had trouble finding a job and was home a lot. And then I got a newborn little baby who had a fondness for eating around the clock and a complete disregard for normal human waking hours.

And then my TV watching got plain dumb. You know what dumb TV is. Don't make me say it. It included reruns, infomercials and just plain silliness.

And it was not feeding my soul.

Second Time Sucker: The Internet

I don't spend longs periods of time online- which is bad.

It's five minutes here, 3 minutes there. I can fool myself into thinking I don't give a lot of my time to the computer. In reality, I am more comfortable being oblivious than tallying up my cumulative computer time. Although I'm almost always reading good stuff and not just facebook stalking, I find this time is out of balance with how much time I need to spend doing things that are higher on my priority list.

I've tried to limit my time doing these things. But I keep getting sucked in. I think our couch is too comfortable. I tried berating myself. You're lazy. Stop sitting there. SELF, WHY ARE YOU WASTING YOUR LIFE??


None of these things worked.

My husband recently had some training at his job that he brought home and shared with me. It's changing the way we talk to and understand each other and anyone we encounter whose behavior may be hard to understand. I'm using it to understand myself and try to change my own behaviors.

The concept is easy: Every person has needs. Our actions are motivated by these needs. 


When we consciously think of people's actions as need-meeting, we find ourselves more understanding of other people.

I decided to try this on myself. What need is being met by watching television during the day? What need is being met by checking my email constantly or always reading blogs and news articles?


The need for Connection. Bingo.


My other methods for changing my behavior always failed because after removing the television and internet from my life, the need for connection still remained. This explained why after I stopped watching TV during the day, I had trouble turning it off. It gave me a shadow of a feeling of connection. I didn't want to close the laptop on the kitchen counter because I might miss an email - an opportunity for connection. I'm not attached to my phone at all, but I see why some people are. Constant connection.

The first question What need is being met? helped me identify my motivation. But the second question is the one that helped me make the actual change in behavior: Is my current way the best possible way to meet this need?


I took a good hard look at myself. I still felt lonely and more depressed after too much screen time.  My chores weren't getting done. The answer was painfully and honestly No.  It was also freeing to realize this because it gave me permission to change my behavior.

Turning the television off was one of the easiest things to change. It wasn't feeding me or really making me feel more connected, something I remind myself of every time I find myself reaching for the remote. After the first few days, I broke the habit of automatically sitting down to watch TV. If I need background, I listen to music and dance with my daughter in the kitchen.

The television isn't evil. It's didn't need to be thrown away - it needed to be re-purposed. I try and reserve it for true sick days or date nights with the hubby with a program we truly look forward to watching.

The computer wasn't quite so cut and dry. The needs were more complicated here. More than just connection, I needed of mental stimulation after changing diapers and endless games of peekaboo. I was getting a lot of encouragement from the blogs I was reading. There are so many good reads for stay at home mamas who are prone to feeling like they are in it all by themselves. So many words of wisdom, recipes, organization ideas- there is such a wealth of really good information out there. Except I had no time to put them into action because I spent all of my extra time reading about them.

Re-purposing:
1) I unsubscribed from just about every email subscription in my inbox that wasn't worth my time. Especially if it advertised "deals" and planted a seed in my mind that said "Buy more stuff", I said Buh-bye. That cuts in my email checking time in half.

2) I replaced A LOT of my online reading with podcasts. What a revelation! I can get all of my chores done while listening to some really thought provoking, soul-nurturing conversations. It fills my cup on days I don't have time for phone conversations or coffee dates with friends. Podcasts are like listening to someone else's coffee date. My favorites are Focus on the Family's 30 minute podcasts and the slightly longer and more casual The Simple Mom podcasts.

Most of all, I want set a precedent to my kids. If my daughter grows up in a home where the TV is always on, odds are she'll fall into the same habit. As parents, we can actively choose if we want to give our kids a blueprint for bad habits or good ones.

I want my daughter to automatically know that playing outside and planting things and spending time face to face and laughing are the best choices for her. It's time to make those the best choices for me.

How have you re-purposed your Time Suckers? Also, if you have any inspiring podcasts to share, please do!

New Year's Revolution

Yes, revolution. It's not a typo.

Definition: 

rev·o·lu·tionA forcible overthrow of a government or social order for a new system.

Not a resolution, which is supposed to be a commitment to betterment but really ends up being a lame "I wish I was better" with no plan to do so. 

A revolution is exactly what my household (and my life) need.

Every night when I reevaluate my day, I have this feeling I didn't make the best use of my time. I feel stressed and gross and disorganized and generally blah. I've been this way for years. My disorganization is my not-so-secret little secret. Every year I vow things will be different (make a "wish" really, because I have no plan) and every year I fall on my face.

The worst part: Since I've always failed, I have started to think that it's impossible to get my act together. Failure is my new norm.

But now it's different. I've got this great husband and this incredibly cool kid. In short, I'm no longer the center of my own universe. 

General Goal: To make the best of each day, especially my time.

Motivation:

...and the cute guy hiding behind her.

Catholic and Gay

Homosexuality. It's something most of the Catholics I know don't want to talk about because they tend to fall in one of two camps:

1)They feel like the Church is harsh in her teaching that homosexuals should live a celibate lifestyle. Some of their gay friends are some of the most loving people they know. Don't they deserve to love people the way they choose?

2) They understand the Church calls us to be loving towards those struggling with homosexuality, but have bought into society's negative reaction towards homosexuality that it's a disease or something to be feared. They make jokes about it and shy away from interacting with those who are gay because they feel uncomfortable.

I keep trying to write my thoughts on this, for I have many. I think that the following blog post from a young, Catholic, gay man struggling with homosexuality says volumes more than I ever could. I hope it sparks a discussion.

I have heard a lot about how mean the Church is, and how bigoted, because she opposes gay marriage. How badly she misunderstands gay people, and how hostile she is towards us. My gut reaction to such things is: Are you freaking kidding me? Are we even talking about the same church?

When I go to Confession, I sometimes mention the fact that I'm gay, to give the priest some context. (And to spare him some confusion: Did you say 'locker room'? What were you doing in the women's...oh.) I've always gotten one of two responses: either compassion, encouragement, and admiration, because the celibate life is difficult and profoundly counter-cultural; or nothing at all, not even a ripple, as if I had confessed eating too much on Thanksgiving.

Of the two responses, my ego prefers the first -- who doesn't like thinking of themselves as some kind of hero? -- but the second might make more sense. Being gay doesn't mean I'm special or extraordinary. It just means that my life is not always easy. (Surprise!) And as my friend J. said when I told him recently about my homosexuality, "I guess if it wasn't that, it would have been something else." Meaning that nobody lives without a burden of one kind or another. As Rabbi Abraham Heschel said: "The man who has not suffered, what can he possibly know, anyway?"

Where are all these bigoted Catholics I keep hearing about? When I told my family a year ago, not one of them responded with anything but love and understanding. Nobody acted like I had a disease. Nobody started treating me differently or looking at me funny. The same is true of every one of the Catholic friends that I've told. They love me for who I am.

Actually, the only time I get shock or disgust or disbelief, the only time I've noticed people treating me differently after I tell them, is when I tell someone who supports the gay lifestyle. Celibacy?? You must be some kind of freak.

Hooray for tolerance of different viewpoints. I'm grateful to gay activists for some things -- making people people more aware of the prevalence of homosexuality, making homophobia less socially acceptable -- but they also make it more difficult for me to be understood, to be accepted for who I am and what I believe. If I want open-mindedness, acceptance, and understanding, I look to Catholics.

Is it hard to be gay and Catholic? Yes, because like everybody, I sometimes want things that are not good for me. The Church doesn't let me have those things, not because she's mean, but because she's a good mother. If my son or daughter wanted to eat sand I'd tell them: that's not what eating is for; it won't nourish you; it will hurt you. Maybe my daughter has some kind of condition that makes her like sand better than food, but I still wouldn't let her eat it. Actually, if she was young or stubborn enough, I might not be able to reason with her -- I might just have to make a rule against eating sand. Even if she thought I was mean.

So the Church doesn't oppose gay marriage because it's wrong; she opposes it because it's impossible, just as impossible as living on sand. The Church believes, and I believe, in a universe that means something, and in a God who made the universe -- made men and women, designed sex and marriage from the ground up. In that universe, gay marriage doesn't make sense. It doesn't fit with the rest of the picture, and we're not about to throw out the rest of the picture.

If you don't believe in these things, if you believe that men and women and sex and marriage are pretty much whatever we say they are, then okay: we don't have much left to talk about. That's not the world I live in.

So, yes, it's hard to be gay and Catholic -- it's hard to be anything and Catholic -- because I don't always get to do what I want. Show me a religion where you always get to do what you want and I'll show you a pretty shabby, lazy religion. Something not worth living or dying for, or even getting up in the morning for. That might be the kind of world John Lennon wanted, but John Lennon was kind of an idiot.

Would I trade in my Catholicism for a worldview where I get to marry a man? Would I trade in the Eucharist and the Mass and the rest of it? Being a Catholic means believing in a God who literally waits in the chapel for me, hoping I'll stop by just for ten minutes so he can pour out love and healing on my heart. Which is worth more -- all this, or getting to have sex with who I want? I wish everybody, straight or gay, had as beautiful a life as I have.

I know this isn't a satisfactory answer. I don't think any words could be. I try to make my life a satisfactory answer, to this question and to others: What are people for? What is love, and what does it look like? How do we get past our own selfishness so we can love God and our neighbors and ourselves?

It's a work in progress.


(reposted from Little Catholic Bubble)

Do babies belong in Mass?

It was only a few short months ago that my baby girl would sleep peacefully in my arms during Mass, the background noise comprised of sung Alleluias and dutiful Amens keeping her in a blissful state of sweet sleep. My arms ached after Mass from holding that 13 lb baby for an hour straight. My goodness, it's hard having a baby in Mass, I thought.

Let's fast forward to present day, shall we?

Evie is 9 months + 7 lbs heavier with more baby man power than thought possible. Instead of lulling her to sleep, the choir's song beckons her to sing along. Which she does- with one loud, continuous note that she carries on a full minute after the song is over. I manage to keep her quiet during the Gospel, although I'm not sure it counts since she is crawling up my shoulder while holding onto my face with her baby talons. When I hold her tighter, she flings her body backwards into a stiff arch while simultaneously trying to wriggle down to the floor.

My husband and I try and use the "crying room" as a training tool and take her only when she's really loud and stay until she settles down enough to join everyone in the main church. This tactic backfires when there's a family in there who uses the crying room as a playroom; Evie seems to gain energy from watching the little boy who is crashing his trucks into one another and running around the tiny room.

A few weeks ago she threw a board book that tumbled down the pew and smacked the man kneeling in front of us in the derriere. We gave her some laminated holy cards to hold and she tossed them like boomerangs at the faces of the people behind us. Our pastor has made reference to the newest choir member who shouldn't sing during his homilies.

I initially was inclined to feel frustrated or embarrassed. I know some people think babies don't belong in the congregation and I know I feel strongly the opposite. I know Christ says, Let the little children come to me.  What could I give Evie during Mass that could help her participate in her own way (without that object becoming a projectile)?

One day, Evie and I were banished to the vestibule after she tried to sing her version of "Amazing Grace" during the homily. I brought her over to the stained glass and told her about the colors. As she ran her chubby little hands over the brightly colored glass, suddenly the answer struck me. How do baby's learn? Through the senses.

The design of a church, the format of the Mass and the gestures we make during are not arbitrary. The body affects the mind (and vice-versa). Most people don't have perfect concentration during Mass. It's not an accident that the whole Mass is a sensory learning experience. The stained glass, statues, holy water, incense, ringing bells, singing genuflection, sign of the cross. Visual. Tactile. Auditory. Kinesthetic. Everything draws you back to Christ, to the purpose of being there.

Now when Evie needs a little break from the rest of the congregation, we walk around the back of the church. I let her dip her fingers in the cool holy water and teach her how to bless herself and then to give me a blessing.I've always been a shy singer who stared dumbly into space during the half of the Mass that is sung. I now open my hymnal and participate in my own off- key way while Evie strokes the pages and smiles sweetly at her singing Mama.

This doesn't prevent tantrums or the harmonizing with the choir. But this realization has made me more patient, more focused during Mass. I realize that the biggest cause of my frustration is that I forget the essential thing: She is learning. This is her first time in this world. She doesn't know how things work. It's up to me to teach her. I know that the best way to teach my child anything is to be a good model and to practice, practice, practice (with a big dose a patience!).

When she stretches her neck up to see where the little bell noise is coming from during the Consecration, I whisper in her ear about Jesus and His Body and Blood and His love.

A glimpse into our morning

A glimpse into our morning:

-I bravely reject my usual cup of coffee and vow to get tons accomplished.

-Evie is very interested in petting the cat now and the cat willing comes toward her flailing hand. The cat regrets it as soon as Evie pulls a baby-sized handful of fur out of her back. The walk cats away in pain, only to come back again 2 minutes later for more punishment.

-We started Baby-Led Weaning a few weeks ago. Evie has already tried peaches, bananas (which she loves), avocado (which she likes to use as body paint) and today - cucumber sticks. This is how the cucumber introduction went:
1) I chopped up cucumber into sticks and placed on baby's tray. Baby ignored cucumber for 20 minutes while she smiled at me sweetly.
2) Baby decides to "sing" at the top of her lungs for 10 minutes.
3) Baby finally picks up cucumber. She holds it below her mouth and gingerly takes a lick. Makes a funny face.
4) Baby holds cucumber like a microphone below her mouth and continues to sing.
5) Baby throws cucumber onto kitchen floor.

Obviously, BLW is a process.

-I put down baby so I can use the bathroom. Baby swats at my legs until I pick her up.

-It's 10:12 am. I'd like some coffee please.

Six months.

Today I made garlic bread with a spread that had partially hydrogenated soybean oil in it. I'm sad that it was so tasty.
Yesterday I ate at Texas Roadhouse. Don't ask me how many times I've been there this month.
And the day before that my little girl turned six months. SIX. MONTHS.

How did this:

turn into this:

She's already driving, for Pete's sake.

I hope you know that I'm joking. I hope you also know those are my husband's hands and not a massive growth on her thighs.

I'm getting a little sad as I order her convertible car seat. It's just another reminder of how quickly she's growing. Plus, I was building awesome arm muscles carrying her in and out of the car in the infant one.

Just look at how tall she is!

I've loved every stage. I loved her as a little bitty helpless infant who ate every 45 minutes. I loved her as a 3 month old learning how to giggle and who ate every 2.5 hours. I love her as a 6 month old who has decided she would like to relive her youth by, again, eating every 45 minutes (seriously, is there a 6 month growth spurt?)

I feel so honored to take care of this amazing little girl who already can light up a room with her smile and has a seriously great sense of humor. I look at her and I feel so lucky. I'm not going to lament for her newborn days or wish she would grow up faster and get past this "stage". I'm just enjoying the ride.

My only hope is that her life is incredibly full and that she is deliriously joyful.

And that she stays in footie pajamas a little longer.

No one can be upset when the little person who wakes them up 95 times a night is wearing footie pajamas.