My Joyful Mysteries, and A Revolution of Real

It all started with that darn Elf that everyone puts every where but their shelves. I haven’t read the children’s book, and I’m not quite sure I understand the concept,  but I’ve seen probably 100 pictures of this elf as people prepared for Christmas.  We don’t have an elf, and the thought popped in my head, briefly, I’m failing my children.  One more thing I’m not doing for them…It was so fleeting, but I recognized it, then dismissed it. Because I know it’s a lie but there is still this part of me that wonders if my kids won’t have all the experiences they need.  That someday they’ll think I failed them.

For over a year people have wanted me to sign up for that awesome-display-of-everything site, Pinterest. I signed up for all of two seconds and decided it was #1 too overstimulating, #2 something I don’t have time for, and #3 one more thing to make me question all the things I’m not doing right.  I don’t want to give credence to those things because I’m doing a lot right.  I’ve been adequate. And I know I’m not the only person who feels this way. I’ve read articles by other writers about this exact same issue.

Before I had kids I had all these ideas of what I would do, what I wanted to do, what I could do…they were wrapped in my mind in bright packaging with bows and fluff.  My expectations were so high and as I’ve started to raise children my priorities for them have changed, and not just because I’ve realized there is no way I can accomplish the things I’ve wanted to.   If I’m repeating points from some of my earlier posts, I apologize, I haven’t  really slept in 11 1/2 years. Of course that’s a joke, kind of.  But there are things I’ve said and thought as a parent that I’d never ever imagined I would’ve ever said or thought…but here it goes…

In the past year I’ve said, “Unless you are on fire or bleeding, you are not allowed to bother me.” Because going the bathroom becomes some sort of magnet for my children to need things, to break out in fights, and an invitation to get injured.   On that same note I’m trying to teach them a little bit about boundaries. You can’t just touch something, or go somewhere because you live here.  You have no right to read your brother’s things with out his permission or to hide your sister’s babies because it’s funny.  Kids need boundaries, and not just because I need boundaries. And sometimes Mama just needs to shower or go poop by herself.  Oh yes, I poop.

One of my sons has been in two fist fights this year.  Both times he was standing up for someone else.  As much as I am a proponent of getting to an adult, and trying to solve something without fighting — I am so incredibly proud that he was willing to stick up for himself, and for people he loved,  something in my youth I was not good at.  So instead of being punished, his Dad took him out for a treat.  I will not raise bullies, and I want my kids to protect those around them from them.

I’ve grounded my kids from any video games/screen time/toys as a punishment for Lying.  That’s something I started to struggle with when I was a little younger than Jonah.  Instead of focusing on healing from a traumatic experience, I created an alternate reality to those around me.  I could lie without skipping a beat…I don’t want my kids to ever fall into deceit.  The self loathing I had was so great, that it followed me into adulthood. I want them to tell the truth, and I am so thankful for Christ’s love and forgiveness and healing in my life.  In my house there are no warnings, only consequences when it comes to lying.  The truth will set you free….always.

“Moooooom. MOM! Moooom. Mom. Mommmmmmm! Mommy!!!!!!!”

I’ve hidden from my kids this year.  More than once.  Just because I needed 5 minutes, sometimes 10. To breathe. And I think they’d agree that Mom is much nicer when she gets to work out, and she doesn’t hide as much. In fact being active is just a part of all of our lives.   As I type this Jonah and DYP are lifting at the gym, and the rest of the kids are jumping on the trampoline.

The stress of moving and all the issues that came up, along with some stressful happenings with some beloved people in my life,  caused me to cry in front of my kids. Multiple times.  I think they’ve had their fill of compassion training.  The past couple months I was sick for about  6 weeks, and one of the kids said to his Dad, “I think Mom might have a baby in her tummy. She’s been sick for so long and has been so irrational.”  Nope not pregnant… But stress, can never ever help you when you’re sick.  I’ve stopped apologizing to my kids when I cry, and I let them see me be human.  Which is ok, because they need to see that life isn’t always easy, and that no matter what, our faith is what will get us through. And sometimes you have to cry about it. Also for the record, that child has no idea what irrational means, but he knows it must be important.

I don’t (gasp) feed my kids all organic, because I can’t afford to feed my kids all organic.  I do what I can, but I do feed them.  And I’m grateful for the fact that I don’t have to stress about feeding them, even if that means I have to shop at the grocery store where it’s not uncommon to see someone arrested or someone wearing a leopard print snuggie.  And I’ll admit they eat McDonald’s, and  I let them have chicken nuggets.  Everything in moderation.  I truly believe that.  And I want them to believe that, because food should just be a part of life, but not be the main focus in life.  I think if I talk about calories(which I don’t) or pesticides I am putting my own issues on them…again, everything in moderation.  We always have fruit and vegetables available and they love them, but it’s just a part of our lives.

I’m not crafty at all.  It is really unfortunate all around.  But I love crayons!  That’s a plus right?  And I think Moon Sand is the most diabolical invention ever.  However I sing to my kids and I dance with them, so I’m sure some how I am making up for my lack of craftiness or patience with colored sand – making me adequate I guess.  I am surrounded by crafty people for when I need help though, so my children aren’t completely deprived.

I love love love my DYP.  And my kids know that.  We get irritated with each other but we always show a united front.  We aren’t perfect and they see that we hurt each others feelings. Still, we are honoring to each other.  And I can guarantee that they know that what we have is something that we work at, and we know how blessed we are to have each other and them. Also we go on a date night EVERY week, which I truly believe is one of the best gifts to each other and them.

I think the most amazing inventions when you are a parent is Hand Sanitizer and the Mr. Clean Magic Eraser. That’s my shout out for awesome which has nothing to do with this post at all.

As I look at the end of this year, and I think of all the ways I felt broken, or inadequate, I also think of all the things God has done to teach me to embrace the way I am adequate.  I stopped apologizing for the way I parent and started to see the results of one of my main priorities…my kids are grateful.  I won’t ever be able to give them everything they want when it comes to bright packages with bows with gadgets that blink and sing, but they are displaying a virtue of gratefulness.  They don’t think anything is owed to them, but instead are grateful for every big and little thing in our lives.  And that is something I couldn’t craft or concoct no matter how many pictures I took…that just is who my children are becoming.

The other thing that happened that showed my adequacy was when I was so sick and all my kids placed their hands on me and prayed over me.  I didn’t ask them to, they just did it.  It was one of the most amazing moments in my life. I was so impressed with their words and how authentic they were.

Which is where I’m at right now.  Through prayer and observation my personal challenge  in 2013 is to be the most authentic version of myself. Not to compare myself or focus on all the ways I’m bound to fail but focusing on who I am, and how I can become the  best version of myself.   It is my prayer that I can focus on the positive and not let negativity or my own anxiety break me. It is my prayer that I can be confident in the gifts God has given me and use them, and do the same with my kids. I am so proud of them, and want them to use their amazing gifts to let their light shine.

I am constantly in awe of how good God is, when I am so unworthy…but this year I plan to focus on all the ways I can be most authentic in my life, and let him work in me, without shame…and I plan to share my journey with you.  Will you join me?

I can guarantee without a doubt…You are more than adequate.

Sometimes you just have to keep it real.  So much of the world we present to those around us is airbrushed, sugar-coated with all the sweet, forgetting the fact that sometimes things are bitter-tasting in our mouths, that things aren’t always rosy or pretty, and are just hard.

DYP and I watched a special on the Mayan’s and their calendar recently and it said they were projecting our world is ending on December 21.  My first thought was, “Really? Before Christmas?!” Second thought: “Man, I’m going to miss my birthday!”  Third thought which should have been my first thought in the first place: “I really really really really hope we all get to heaven.”

So in Light of all the hustle and bustle of the season, I’ve thought about that show a lot — if the world was ending, what would I want my children to think of this world, what mark would I like to leave on here? And all I keep coming back to is…prepare for Jesus.  Prepare for Christmas.  Advent.

King of my heart.  Born in Poverty.  Jesus.

A Baby.

Babies slow down everything.  When you have a baby, everything takes longer…there are days between showers, nursing takes forever when you are most tired, your body takes a long time to readjust to not being pregnant, it takes forever to get anywhere, sometimes it takes forever to get them to stop crying. A 15 minute drive can seem like a 15 hour drive with a crying baby.  Babies slow things down.  Which is why it’s so peculiar that this time of year, which should be about focusing on what’s truly important is the most busy.  But what is amazing about Babies is when they are quiet, the world is quiet, still.

Last weekend DYP and I had our first EVER weekend away from our kids together. My saint of a mother came down and took care of all four kids, so we could have a get away.  He had a training in Las Vegas, so I flew there and met him after it was over.  It was amazing to have that time together after 11 years.  So much of our focus is on the care and schedule of our kids, but this weekend was about each other.  I loved it.  What struck me though was Vegas. Nothing is slow about that place.  Everything was so loud and bright.  We were so completely overstimulated, that on Saturday night we walked to a local church and went to Mass.  There was no music that night, which the priest kept apologizing about, but I was relieved, I wanted the quiet.  I wanted to focus on the prayers of mass. Nothing about my life is quiet these days.  So much of my life is filled to the brim with fillers and things, noise, and children. And I love that.  But in those moments I needed “The Word”, My husband, and the quiet and serenity of Christ.

While I was there I prayed about all of the things that don’t seem conceivable to me…the fact that I have had a cold for over a month, a pinched nerve which has forced me to miss parties, work, volunteer opportunities, working out — things I look forward to, but truly don’t matter when it comes to the real life things.  Like, the people in my life who are hurting so deeply as they await the unknown; can they conceive a child?  Will the adoption go through? Their fate so uncertain.  The bitter truth that so many I love have to grieve a child, like I have.  The women that grieve their husbands, good men, and have to learn how to live their life when “their” life is gone.  The body snatcher that is addiction. The lies people will believe when there is money involved. Denying people the right to love. The dark way depression, eating disorders, and the dark steal the joy of people I love who are so beautiful you cry to think of the black lies they believe.  Their fate is so uncertain.

And then it is pitch black.  These thoughts are so wretched that they awake the anxiety that haunted me most of my life.  Then they start lighting up like buildings on the Vegas Strip:  My husband leaving me behind.  Someone hurting my children. Something happening to my family.  Sickness, Cancer, Death.  My husband being killed at work.  And it is so incredibly loud, the anxiety in my ears, beating louder than my heart beat, telling me that I need to worry.  I need to let it consume me.  Own me. Swallow me.

STOP!

And then I’m back in that church in Las Vegas, still on the pew next to my best friend, and I see that they’ve lit the second Advent Candle, which represents Love. The light flickers and reminds me of what I do know: That even on the darkest night if you can see a glimmer of light – you can find hope.  Hope in the inconceivable.  The Christ Child was born of a Virgin.  Conceived.  If you can find the smallest flame, you can remember joy.  Joy in the smallest of things, remembering to slow down enough to keep it real.  Life is beautiful and messy.  Life can be hard, and so painful sometimes that even the smallest breathe aches but if you can find that little crack of light you can see the Hope.  You can find Joy.  Joy and Hope can only come from one thing: Love.

In those moments and in the last few days I have clung to those thoughts…I put my hand into my Loves and we tangle our fingers together.  We have created a life  and love so strong together that brings every fierce emotion to the surface — I will protect it with my life.  Because while fate is one thing, Faith is something I understand.

I have faith in Miracles.  I have faith in Healing.  I have faith in Forgiveness.  And as I prepare for Christmas, and talk to my children I talk about the miracle’s that happen in those dark moments.  Preparing is about being present in your own life, sometimes that means stopping everything.  Sometimes that means slowing down.  Sometimes that means keeping it real.

Because sometimes the smallest lights are so much brighter than the ones that flash at us.  Sometimes in the quiet we can remember how truly blessed we are.

I believe in Miracles. I believe in Babies.

I believe that anything is possible.

“Mary said, Be it done to me, according to your Word.” Luke 1:38

I believe in Love that lives among us; The Light of the World.

I’ve been thinking. A lot. I haven’t  posted anything in a couple of months. A few posts ago, I got a lot of mixed reactions…I was unfriended on Facebook,then blocked, then was told someone asked other people to unfriend me.  I was emailed by someone who thought I was talking about them(I wasn’t), and I was thanked by a few people who felt the same way I was feeling.  In the past couple years it’s not that I’ve become apathetic about writing posts – I just only want to write about things when I really feel called to write about them.

And guess what? It’s not about Mascara.  I have fallen deeply in love with a mascara and have been hopelessly devoted to it for over a year, but I don’t want to talk about that this post. This post is all about my sisters…

Last Monday was a bad day. I woke up cranky, and I had this lingering sadness right under every layer of skin. Grace had been up for a few days with a fever over 103, I sat with her wrapped in her fleece Dora Blanket on our front porch in the middle of the night, the rain falling, the wind chimes swaying together…ting ting ting…as my daughter’s breathing regulated after being so shallow with a bad bout of croup. I missed my Mom.

And I missed my sisters.

I am sad that Grace will never know her sister.  I am sad that I don’t know the future or if we’ll have any more kids and that Grace may never know what it’s like to have one.

There is nothing like having a sister.

Side note: I don’t want this to take away at all from my relationship with my brother, Jeremy, who Micah is named after.  Jeremy and my relationship growing up was tumultuous to put it mildly – we fought about everything, but as adults we are very close.  For two years we talked at least once a day, we cried for months as he struggled in a relationship and when he and his wife called me to tell me they were pregnant with their beautiful daughter, my niece Olivia, I screamed and was as excited as if she was mine.  Which she would be if they’d stop being so selfish and let her live with me.  But really, my brother was meant to be a Dad, his entire life has been leading up to raising children.  He has never been happier.   I love him.

And I know that Grace will have that.  Her brother’s adore her, and as annoyed as they get with her, they take care of her and protect her.  She will always be their Grace, and I know that no girl will be good enough for them.  I can already tell that Grace will have her say in all their girlfriends and will be just like me and be the first one to need to know about anything in their lives.

But this is about my sisters.

There is a song by Sugarland called “Shine the Light,” that really sums up how I feel about them.  It’s funny because I’m actually not good at conveying these things to them over the phone or in person.  A lot, most times, I come off as too blunt or all jumbled, and then I make a joke.  But for some reason when I’m writing all the awkwardness of me goes away.  The lyrics to this song seem so appropriate today…so my prayer is that they read this and see how loved they are.

“When you walk in the edge of those dark and lonely woods, and when I ask “How was your Day?” Your answer “Not so good,” And when nothing seems to be working quite the way it should…I will shine the light, I will hold you in my arms until everything’s alright. I will shine the light. ” 

Beautiful Missy, You are such an amazing person.  From the day I was born you were the person I wanted to be just like. My entire life, you have been my constant friend, the most reliable person I know. You are also the strongest.  You have survived great losses, 2 deployments away from your soldier, and continue to strive to find yourself as a mother, wife, friend, and writer.  You are an amazing writer, and I believe in you, and cannot wait to buy your book at some overpriced bookstore and tell everyone there “My sister wrote this… And she dedicated it to me.”     Thank you for being there during my darkest moments and letting me grieve.  Thank you for loving me and staying by my side an entire 13.1 miles when you knew you could go faster, but you stayed with me because you love me.  I love you so much. You will never get a rejection letter from me.  And I believe you are more than just an amazing writer, or wife, or mother, or sister, I believe you are a strong-amazing, steadfast person who looks the most beautiful when you’re laughing. I love your laugh. I love our time together.  Thank you for being my sister and my friend.

“When the skies up above you fill with gray and stormy clouds.  And there’s not a single face you know in the maddening crowd.  When you know that you will make your way, but you just can’t see how…I will shine the light. I will hold you in my arms until everything’s alright. I will shine the light.”

Lovely Erin, Two years ago, you and your girls picked up everything and started a new life in Seattle.  When our Maya was born 12 years ago, I watched you, my little sister, a senior in high school become a Mother and I stood there holding a goofy “Welcome”  sign as you brought my beautiful god-daughter into this world. And you transformed right there.  There were many hard years, but I hope you know I am so proud of you.  You are such a good Mom, and though you were young, you have and are continuing to raise amazing young women.  You were a single Mom when drug addiction could not give you a co-parent.  You stood up for yourself after years of domestic violence – And you started over.  You left everything behind.  And God shined his light on you.  The boy who loved you when you were in 7th grade, who you stood up for, now stands next to you.  And as you both prepare to bring a much-loved 5th baby girl into your world together, you have a job you rock at, you have a family who adores you, and I hope you know I am always here.  Thank you for holding my hand when we were kids and I was scared at night, for holding my hand when I called DYP on the phone the first time, and thank you for letting me hold your hand over the years when you didn’t want me to. You are beautiful inside and out, and hilarious.  Thank you for being my sister and my friend.

“And when your worries, they won’t let you sleep and rob you of your days. And you’ve looked in all directions but you still can’t find your way. Or when you just need someone to remind you that it’s all gonna be okay.  I will shine the light…When you’re staring at your demons waiting in your darkest night… I will shine the light.”

Precious Hannah, you are my other smile.  I love that even when you were a little girl our smiles matched.  As you’ve gotten older, taller, I still have that.  It’s so funny because when people meet you they’ll think of how easy going you are, a little quiet, always up for fun, but you are so much deeper than that.  There is the part of you that stays hidden, deeply buried, a part where you are hard on yourself, a place only those who have observed you year after year, know about you.  You are such a good, beautiful person.  I love that you still will play with the kids, and you let Grace hang on you, because it doesn’t seem so long ago that I would push you on the swings and we’d sing “Simon and Garfunkel” and you’d ask if you reached your feet up high enough if you could touch the sky. Last year we sat in the hospital room the day after Papa John’s surgery and he asked us to sing for him.  You sang in Spanish. I sang a church hymn.  But his joy in his weakness over our voices in the dark room is a memory I will never forget.  I will always remind you on the darkest day about the goodness you exude and how someday you will bring good to so many people.  I love you my beautiful Hannah. Thank you for being my sister and my friend.

Sometimes we jump into the great unknown. Some roads we’re on, we’ll have to walk alone. But waiting there in the end is a heart that calls you friend…that’s me.  Clapping the loudest… welcoming you home.So when you heart is heavy like a stone, From carrying its load.  And you look into the mirror and see someone you don’t know. Or when the shadows are closing in on you like a hand across your throat.  I will shine the light. I will shine the light.  I will shine the light.  I will hold you in my arms until everything’s all right. I will shine the light.

My Kaitlin, not only are you my god-daughter, you are Grace’s godmother.  Grace says she was born in your heart, I feel the same way about you.  For so many years I slept in the same bed with you and Hannah, feeling the need to protect you. But in fact, you both protected me.  You birth changed me, and I am so grateful for every breath of life you have taken.  If only you could see yourself the way the world sees you; worthy of greatness.  I’ve watched you sleep,  and I’ve watched you laugh. We’ve cried for hours on the phone, and I’ve watched you pray.  Every darkness that has threatened you, we have fought together…but I want you to know as lonely this walk seems sometimes– you are not alone.  Your faith has carried you.  At the end of every race you make in life, I will be there.  You were born in my heart and I cannot imagine life without you.  You are the embodiment of beautiful.  You are worthy. The shadows will never win.  Thank you for praying with me every night and for being my sister and friend.

“I will shine the light…When you’ve given into your fear.  When you’ve lost your will to fight. Let me know what I can do. Let me try to make it right. And I will shine the light. I will shine the light.”

And to all my soul sisters:

 My police sisters who understand what it’s really like. To my best friends who take me as I am, and still hug me goodbye.  To the friends who have run with me, and ran for me, who see the most authentic me – and Koya, I can’t imagine running as far with anyone else. For my friend Renee who loves my kids so much, and is so good to me.  To all my “Mom” friends who show up, who see me in sweats and see me try and cry,  who know I will always be there to say the wrong thing but still laugh with me.  To the godmothers of my children…thank you for praying for my kids — thank you for praying with me. For my REACH girls who we still pray for each other, may you see the ways God is giving you grace. For my friends since childhood, when did we become grown ups?  For the women of faith I know.  For all the women of 4 plus children, you get it.   For all the women I’ve met over the years that have suffered the loss of a child who instantly become my soul sister. For Amy the bravest most forgiving person I know. And for my kindred,you have lost and loved more deeply than any person I know,  you mean so much to me. To my sister in-laws and mother in law, who love crazy me. And to all my saint sisters, who pray for me in heaven and take care of Grace’s sister…thank you.

I don’t know if my Mom realized when she had all of us girls how strong our bond would become. But  I am so grateful she raised us,so well, so loving,  just like my beloved Grandma Nor raised her to love and adore her own sister.

 On my worst days I am always grateful for my sisters, and I will always plead to God for their happiness.  That’s the brightest light I’m able to shine. I pray for you.  I show up.   Because the best things in life, really truly, include the word Sister.

I love you. Always,

Krissy

“The Truth Shall Set you Free, but first it will piss you off.” – Gloria Steinmen

When I was 18 I thought I knew everything…I loved God. I loved my family. I loved DYP. Everything else was just details.

When I was 18 I was sure by the time I was 30, I’d have it all figured out.  Now I’m past 30 and I have a few things figured out, but spend more of my time thinking I really know nothing, because there are too many details…I have 6 schedules to keep track of, a dog that likes to dig, and I can’t remember the last time I went to the bathroom by myself. My friend Sally once said she used to tell her five kids that if they couldn’t find her to look under a large pile of laundry.  Story of my life.

When I first starting writing I heard constantly, “Write what you know…” that’s what I’ve stuck to.  Maybe in the overload of details I’ve lost my imagination, but I don’t think so. I think it’s just on a hiatus.  But there are some Truths that stay with me.  They set me a part, and really set me free to be who I truly am.  Good chance some of them may piss you off.

Truth.

I am writing this while my boys are doing homework next to me at our kitchen table.  I have these grand idea’s of home schooling…until I help Jonah with his fifth grade homework.  And then I try to distract him.  And then I remember why it’s probably a good idea he goes to a school.  I’m too much of a party girl.  You want to talk about algebra?  How about Bon Jovi + The Super Bowl = Awesome!

Truth.

I have lost almost every battle when it comes to my sons. I said no toy guns, they made them out of sticks. They love hunting with their Dad.  I said no video games ever. I play “Just Dance” with them. I said no contact sports. Jonah is playing his first year of Tackle Football.  And I survived; I’m so thankful for meat in our freezer, laughing with my kids during Mario Kart, and Jonah loves football.  The only battle I’ve ever won is that my kids will never ever be allowed to ride ATV’s.  A friend was killed on one, and I won’t ever change my mind on that. Ever.

Truth.

I want to run a marathon I think. But I think I may poop my pants. Or die. I’m not joking.  Also I have hardly ran at all this summer and my hip has been hurting.  I’m discouraged and grumpy, and I’m still trying to figure out how to fit working out into my detail-filled time-limited life. I wish I was faster. I wish I could keep up with my sisters. Or my Betty’s. My only source of pride is I can do a lot of push ups. A month ago I did yoga, and it’s official — I’m not bendy. I know you’re shocked. And with that being typed, I want to go running.

Truth.

The older I get the more I despise politics. And political commercials. And political agenda’s.  And Reality TV. I despise that too.  Because you never really know who is real.  Who is telling the Truth.  And you are trusting people with your freedom. Your time. And it’s depressing.

Truth.

I absolutely hate when people are treated unfairly for no reason. I hate when people expect people to treat them badly and then become bullies. And I cannot stand when money makes people become mean. Also that whole thing of “it’s just business” is just a fancy way of saying “I deserve to be kicked in the crotch.”

Truth.

I love babies. I wouldn’t mind having another. I love other people’s babies. I’m terrified of having another.

Truth.

I wasn’t truly pro-life until I lost our Mary.  But I’ve seen a baby that’s considered a fetus…she was a miracle- and she was a baby. She had eye lashes and nails. I just didn’t get to keep her.  I’m all for women being taken care of, but there is a mind-body-spirit element in there. And I don’t care who you are…no matter what you “choose” that stuff doesn’t leave you.  Every time you see a baby that age you think, I wonder if they’d look like that. There is a hollowness that never ever leaves. Truth. I ache for my daughter.

Truth.

God loves gay people as much as he loves you.

Truth.

It never fails that whenever I talk to certain “Moms” who I’m never sure if they like me or judge me, My daughter acts like a heathen.  It’s like she knows.  Seriously she gives them total fuel to gossip about me later.  Which I am positive they do.

Truth.

I like tattoo’s.

Truth.

I really really hate when people tickle my kids.  Like Hate it.  It makes me really uncomfortable. I just think it’s weird when adults are touchy with kids. Creepy weird.

Truth.

My husband is the hardest worker I’ve ever met. And handsomest man.  And greatest Dad.  I still can’t believe he chose me.

Truth.

One of the hardest conversations I have ever had was recently. Through texts.

Truth.

I am so proud of my kids.  They are joy a million times over.

Truth.

I spend way too much time focusing on what I don’t do right.  How I’m not thin enough.  How I may have an unhealthy obsession with my air popcorn maker.  How sometimes I say too much. Or don’t say enough. I spend way too much time getting caught in the details…but I’m working on that. Right now I’m listening to my kids dance and giggle, or they may be being ninja’s.  The truth is I am so grateful for my kids. I am so grateful for my husband. I’m so grateful for my family, and my friends. God continues to be faithful, even through the hard things.  I write what I know and He is so good.

What sets me free right now: The way my heart thumps still when DYP looks at me…Jonah’s laugh,  Daniel’s amazing hugs, Micah’s sense of humor, and Grace’s addictive joy.

The rest is just details. That’s the truth.

I should be asleep. It’s 2:45 in the morning, and I should be dreaming. I’m supposed to be up, driving to Boot Camp in three hours…but instead I sit in a dimly lit room, surrounded by boxes, wide awake.  I’ve been trying to fall back asleep for the past hour, but our too warm apartment combined with sharing a full size bed with a warm Italian and a 27 pound-Dora nightgown wearing-wispy hair flinging bed hog is a bit impossible.  And the small building of anxiety in the pit of my stomach just won’t seem to go away.  Like little bees it keeps buzzing at me, keeping me awake.

It’s not necessarily bad anxiety, its the buzz of anticipation/unknown/uncertainty. Buzz, Buzz, Buzzzz.

In two nights I will go to bed in our new house.  Someday I hope to write about the story of how it all came about the selling of our home of nine years and buying this home. How it truly is a testament of prayer and trusting, but right now I don’t know that I could give it justice in words. I’m too tired, but it’s a good story. I’m so excited.

In last six weeks we’ve been living in an apartment. It hasn’t been horrible, though having six people in such a small space has been a definite test of all of our patience.  DYP and I had this great idea to just bring our guest room, full size bed and share it for this short time…which has also been another test.  I’m extremely claustrophobic, and a full size bed is really really small compared to the king size bed we’ve had our entire marriage.  And tonight of course on a night where I need sleep Grace has her first night terror in months. Little things like this have been an ongoing theme of the past weeks, I’m learning how far I can be stretched patience wise.  Someday we’ll talk about this with the kids, what a great adventure it was. I’m trying to focus on that, not the fact that we’ve all been living out of bins, that my boys marbles and lego’s never seem to be cleaned up, and that I sneeze every time I’m in the boys closet because I’m fairly certain the tenants before us owned at least 40 cats. But again, it’s an adventure. I’ve loved living near the river, running by it, seeing the boys leave with their Dad to go fishing in the evening.

A couple weeks ago, I took a little hiatus from facebook along with quite a few other things.  It started as a religious fast, but kind of transformed into so much more than that.  Instead of checking facebook, or even the computer, I prayed or spent time just being present with the people around me.  In the past months I’d become acutely aware of how often when I was with people they were engaged on their phones…facebook, twitter, pinterest, texting, instead of being with me, they weren’t with me.  And it really bothered me.  A lot.  So instead of it just being a prayer, I used it as an opportunity to be in the moment with my kids, I want to be fully present to them.  I want to listen to them.  I want to show them that they are more important then anything on my phone.  I want to show them they are worth my time.

So much of my life and schedule is ruled by time. Time to get up, how much time it takes to get myself plus four others out the door. There are weeks that I can’t even recall what we did, but then I remember what I was wearing when I met DYP.  So lately while packing, again, I’ve had time to think.  Which may be why its now well after three and I’m still awake.

buzz.

We’ve moved twice now, once we moved most of our big stuff into the garage of our new house, once the rest of our stuff in this apartment and now Saturday we move our stuff from here and the garage into the house.  This has been a true test for both me and DYP because we both detest asking for help. But we’re having to ask for help to move, asking people to make time.Again.  Asking for help is a buzz kill, pardon the horrible three am pun.

buzz.

Wondering when I’m going to stop worrying about what people think…I’ve had to miss boot camp twice because of DYP’s schedule, and yet since I can’t sleep I’m worried people will think I’m a slacker because I didn’t make the time. I only slept 3 hours before the last one, and it showed, I was dragging and was behind, and then I beat myself up for not being able to stretch myself even thinner…even when that means I’m not taking care of myself.

buzzzzz.

For months I’ve been stressing out about Grace not potty training.  I have three older boys who were late potty trainers, and essentially when they were ready completely potty trained themselves in less then a week.  But I tried methods I heard worked for others with Grace…stressed about her not getting it. And two days ago after only going on the potty once before ever – she started going.  She had two accidents the first day, none today, and goes in on her own. I cried with relief, but also kicked myself because she was like her brothers – she did it on her own time.  Why couldn’t I just let her do that? Also whoever said potty training girls is easier is full of crap.  After four times of this I think I have the statistics to say, that kids potty train when they are ready, it’s not anything you’re doing.  If your kid potty trained when they were three months they were ready…it worked. So there.

buzz buzz buzz.

So in two nights I’m moved again, and can start to maybe begin to let some of this anxiety go…let this stress peel away.  But I’m glad I took a break from things to re access who I want to be, where I am. And I want to be here.

If there’s anything I’ve relearned in the past months through this whole process is that our family theme really is true.  Familia es Todo. Family is All.  And I want to be here, because if I was distracted I might’ve missed out on…

Jonah telling me and Amy nonchalantly on the last day of school he was asked “out.” And he told the very sweet pretty girl, who had kind of been a poop to him all year, that he wasn’t allowed to date. And told me he didn’t think he’d be ready until he was 16.

Daniel saying to me, “Face it Mom, you kind of are out of the 1950’s.” Okaaay.

Micah learning to tie his shoes, and telling me…”This might be the best day of my life. Until next week.”

And being a part of every phone call Grace made to her Dad, and Nay Nay, and all of the people who celebrated her pooping and peeing, including my book club.  And hearing her say to her Dad, “Daddy, this is a really big deal.”

That is better than any buzz, and I’m okay with being stretched if I can have these amazing little moments remind me that I am truly blessed, that they are ALL I need.  It would sting if I hadn’t noticed.

I’ve always said I want people to say I’m reliable and I made them laugh…can I add that when I was with them, I was there?  I showed up. Because I really don’t want to miss out on any moment with the people who matter. Especially the people who show up for me.

About a week ago my best friend Amy sent me a link to a blog* about how a woman took her kids to do 40 different acts of kindness on her birthday.  What is funny is that I’d read the blog before and loved the idea, but had forgotten about it. I reread the blog and got on with my week.  We are in the midst of packing and moving and between that, Holy Week, Baseball, Soccer, Piano, Dance…I forgot completely about the blog or anything else I’d read that week.

Everytime we’d talked about Easter except for dinner plans with friends we really hadn’t come up with something we all wanted to do.  I almost fell into my usual missing my family so bad that I’m a party pooper, so DYP and I decided to keep our plans open and decide Easter Day.  We got up bright and early and went to the 8 am mass. It was lovely. Grace fell asleep during it.  Alleluia. One more Easter Miracle.

Afterwards we came home…and were talking about our day and suddenly I remembered that blog.  Lent was Forty Days Long.  DYP gave up speaking negatively and beer on weeknights, Jonah gave up Harry Potter, Daniel gave up Chocolate, Micah gave up fighting with his brothers and sister, Grace gave up Fridays…and I gave up celebrity gossip and putting myself down in my head.  40 Days.

On Good Friday we took the kids to our church service. It had been a nightmare day.  Daniel in worst mood ever, check.  Micah throwing three huge fits and spending the greater part of the day in time out, check check.  And Grace deciding the solemnity of Good Friday at church deserved a concert/dance recital/general spunky show, check check check.  As I stood in the back not hearing any readings, any words watching the entire church pray as Grace ran circles around me I actually thought, “I don’t want to be here.  I’m not getting anything out of this.”  My biggest fear is to become complacent, to stop caring, to stop getting it.

The ultimate sacrifice, the year culmination of our faith, and I wasn’t getting anything out of it.

On Easter Sunday, Grace fell asleep, and I could actually hear the homily.  Our Priest talked about how saddened he was when someone said to him, “Well you know Easter is all about the kids.” As he continued to talk about the meaning, the redemption, everything we believe, what we should be celebrating,  I was convicted.  Deeply.

So when I thought of that brilliant blog, and 40 Days past…It came to me! 40 Days of Lent. 40 Acts of Kindness! One Easter. So I read the blog to my family.  I knew it would fill up our day, I knew it was a long shot for them to get on board…there were Easter Egg hunts we could go to, we hadn’t dyed eggs. But they were all inspired.

We talked about how the crucifixion wasn’t Random, how everything was planned and layed out for us with great purpose.  Sacrifice, Forgiveness, Redemption, LOVE. So much love.  We wanted every act to show our love for others. Because we are so incredibly loved by God…we wanted to love others.

It went something like this:

1. Micah called his godparents Amy and Steve and told them how much he loved them and prayed for them and thanked them.

2. Jonah called his godmother Mandy and said the same thing.(the kids thought of calling their godparents by the way)

3. Daniel called godparents Bryce and Angel, and said that he was praying for them.

4. The boys put together an egg and some candy for our next door neighbor Maggie, they love her so much and since she would love siblings, they treat her just like one.

5. Daniel called his godmom, and my sister Missy.  He loves her so much and misses her everyday.

6. We went and found a friend who is a wife and mother, and a police officer, and brought her a chai tea on duty.  She was away from her husband, and two beautiful kids, while we got to be together.  I’m so thankful for our hero’s.

7. I left a message for our youngest goddaughter Cabrini.  We love her so much and it is such a blessing to be a part of her life.

8. Grace and I left a message for my oldest goddaughter and her godmother Katie.  She and Grace have a special bond, and she and I have a very close relationship.  I pray she always knows how loved she is. We also left a message for Grace’s godfather “Papa.”

9. We realized that we were almost out of gas. While there Daniel gave an egg with candy to the girl who pumped our gas.  In Eugene you never really know how anyone will react when it comes to Easter…she loved it, and showed her coworker.  We told her thank you. And she said, “Happy Easter.”

10.I texted our godson Nathaniels mom(Amy) and told her to tell him how much he means to us, and that we pray for him all the time. He is still at the pushing buttons, and not giving the phone back to his mom stage.

11.We stopped at our friends the Fromm’s house and brought Easter gifts, and hugs to Stephen, Emily, Lucy, and Michael.  They weren’t expecting us but were very excited, and they are a big part of our life.  I got huge kisses from Lucy and Michael.

12. I let our goddaugther Maya know how much we love her.  She is such a great girl, who we are incredibly blessed to be able to call ourselves godparents to.

13.  We brought gifts and hugs to our friends the Yakovich’s.  I carpool Nick and Ryan five days a week, and they are some of my favorite kids.  Their Mom is one of my dearest friends.  I told her how much I loved her yesterday and she just smiled and said, “I know that.” She also gave me some amazing pink lemonade cake pops.

14.We stopped at Daniel’s friend Henry’s house, he was Daniel’s first friend in kindergarten and Daniel really wanted  to tell him thank you. He wasn’t there, but his Dad promised to pass it on.

15. I got to talk to my goddaughter Madison.  She is such a great kid, and I absolutely love her.  So I told her so.

16. Jonah’s allergies were really bothering him, so I stayed inside and played Monopoly Deal with him.  I have a list about a mile long but spent some time with just him.

17. Jonah said he knew that I had a lot to do, so in return he was going to do something for me.  He didn’t smack talk me the whole time.

18.I called a woman from my work whose husband passed away a few years ago. She doesn’t have any family in town, and never had any children.  We had a lovely conversation.

19. DYP took Micah’s training wheels off, and then took off Maggie(next door’s) too. He took the time to teach them both how to ride on their two wheelers.  And Grace was the only one who bit it and required band-aids.

20.We brought an Easter gift to one of our neighbors who absolutely loves our kids.  She seemed so surprised, but was also so sad that we are really moving.  She is the neighbor that’s been praying we’d change our minds.

21. We brought a gift to her father, who lives in a different house in our neighborhood named Guy. He is 92, and his wife of 65 years died a couple years ago.  We love him so much, and let him know.  He refuses to talk to us about our moving, but really liked giving the kids hugs yesterday.

22.  DYP was trying to sell a boat motor on Craigslist and a very nice couple came to look at it, and ended up telling him about how she’d had a stroke from a routine chiropractic adjustment and was paralyzed for months. They were the nicest couple who lost almost everything from that tragedy, and are still regaining their lives.  She is a bee farmer, so instead of paying money which for them would’ve been so difficult, we traded a boat motor for honey.

23. We gave a gift to our neighbors, who the boys feed their cats when they are out of town.  On the back of both of their cars they have a christian fish symbol, with the word “lies” inside of it.  It has been a huge learning lesson for our boys on how to love people who have been hurt by people of faith.  So we love them.  And they respect how we are raising good children.

24. We put a picture on facebook for our Jessica in New York. She used to spend Easter with us when she watched our kids. We miss her so. DYP and I love her like a daughter.

25. We gave half our honey to our friends Wayne and Liz who so graciously hosted us for dinner.  They are great friends, Liz had worked all day.  And Wayne helped DYP get the boat motor running so we could sell it. He never expected anything in return. We are blessed to know them.

26. Jonah talked to his godfather Dom in California.  He thanked him for being a hero(he’s a firefighter) and said he’d always pray for him.  They talked for about 20 minutes and Jonah smiled the rest of the day.

27. A year ago, on Good Friday my dear friend Kristie found out that her entire world was broken. As she has grieved her  amazing husband this past year, she has also given so many hope.  She prays so much, and I cannot imagine a world where she and I aren’t friends.  She is living day to day, prayer to prayer…so we called and sang “Living on a Prayer” to her answering machine. Because Bon Jovi saves lives, one song at a time.

28. Like every holiday we went to the cemetery to visit our Mary Therese.  We decorated her grave with Easter things and prayed, and then the older boys decorated some of the other babies graves with eggs.  They understand what its like to have a sister in heaven and always wonder if she’s being taken care of.  They wanted to make sure those other babies were taken care of too.

So…we didn’t get 40, but we will next year…and we are planning on this next week to reach 40 either way.   It was the best Easter we’ve ever had. And really when you read how much they did on the other blog, we didn’t do a lot.  But for the first time in this Easter tradition I think we did alright.  And we hope that the people who were a part of our new tradition know how much we love them. Because that was our only motivation.  Love.

Words that sum up this Easter: Sacrifice, Forgiveness, Redemption, Love, Gratefulness, Blessed. So blessed.  I love my family.  I love my life. I want to be here.

Thank you Jesus.  I will never stop trying to get it.

*here’s the blog that gave me this idea. Thanks again Amy.

http://ticklestogiggles.blogspot.com/2010/05/my-birthday-was-awesome.html

“If only you knew how mean she really is… You’d know that I’m not allowed to wear hoop earrings, right? Yeah! Two years ago she told me hoops earrings were her thing and I wasn’t allowed to wear them anymore. And then for Hanukkah my parents got this pair of really expensive white gold hoops and I had to pretend like I didn’t even like them and it was so sad. And you know she cheats on Aaron? Yes, every Thursday he thinks she’s doing SAT prep but really she’s hooking up with Shane Oman in the projection room above the auditorium! I never told anybody that because I am such a good friend!”  -Gretchen Weiners in the movie “Mean Girls”

(This was written originally is 2011, and updated in 2021)

Right before my husband and I started dating he went to live with The Missionary’s of Charity in Denver Colorado at an AIDS hospice.  A sector of Mother Teresa’s Sisters, he volunteered with them for four months.  In the last two weeks he lived there, I used a paycheck from my job at Mr. C’s Pizza in Yakima Washington and bought a plane ticket to go visit him. I was a Senior in High School and told my parents after I purchased the ticket, and I still to this day cannot believe they let me go. But since I would be staying with a bunch of nuns and volunteering I think they assumed I wouldn’t get in trouble.  The point of sharing this is not to say that Grace could ever get away with this sort of thing, which she couldn’t…EVER, or that I must’ve been a dream child for my parents to let me go, which I wasn’t.  At that time I was considering becoming a nun, so visiting my future husband who was getting ready to enter the seminary to be a priest but who at the time was just a friend who I thought repeatedly about marrying was actually a really amazing gift and way to start off a relationship that has been going on for the past 25 years. How’s that for rambling with a run on sentence?!

The nuns were amazing and holy, and completely human. While there,  I heard them say repeatedly to each other, “Is it better to be right or to be holy?”  Sometimes it was a question, sometimes it was as a statement.  When they said it, it cut all extra away from what was happening in the moment and the air changed.  It is a phrase that I have thought a lot about the past month, and has really made me think about who I want to be.  Who I should strive to become?

Is it better to be right or be holy?

I first started thinking about it after two days of reading some blanketed insults on Facebook. These insults were said a month or two ago …and  as much as I love being able to reconnect with certain friends, and feeling like I’m a part of my siblings day-to-day lives, I’ve begun to see the reasons why Chris got rid of his account.  People feel this need to better themselves by putting other people down, whether it’s because of a stupid sports team preference or even family planning.  Sometimes its religion, or politics, and sometimes I think people just argue with anything anyone says just to argue.  It’s draining, and there have been many times when my first thought has been to show how right I am, say my piece…but really there’s no point.  I’m realizing more and more the value of not saying anything, because I think life gives us enough drama without playing into crap on the internet.  Because some people just are mean. It’s that simple.

But it’s not just on the internet, or Facebook, it’s at our kids sports games, and in the PTA meetings. It’s at family gatherings or any place where you get people together with differing opinions and usually where someone wants to validate something.  I’ve seen it a lot in the past couple years in my own family, people who I loved and respected have become mean, spiteful, gossipy people.  I’ve seen it in the passive aggressiveness that comes from jealousy.   This under current of “I’m afraid you are judging me, so I’ll judge you.” or “Let me show you the level of my commitment to my choices and totally rip on yours, because I am better than you and you suck.”  And no this doesn’t happen all the time, and no not everyone is this way or extreme, but I’ve seen it enough since I’ve become a wife and mother to know that it happens, and to know that not everything that I’ve done is for everyone.  I also am the first to admit that I’ve made a million mistakes and had to learn from every one of them.

And I’ll admit it. I can be catty at times. I’ve gossiped about the Mom who laughed as her child was pushing my daughter down over and over and said in a sing song-y voice, “No, no, nooooo.” In fact my best friend Amy has the text messages to prove it.  I’ve also judged someone immediately after I met them when their first statement to me was, “Did I meet you at the club? It seems that’s where I see everyone.” And no they didn’t meet me at the “club” but they made sure I knew they belonged there. See? Me = Catty.

This is all even more apparent to me now that I have my Grace. And especially now that Grace is getting ready to head back to hybrid Middle School. I feel like we’ve kept her in this safe cocoon of family. She’s still Young.

I’ve read countless articles about how we need to work with our girls helping them to avoid being “mean” adults, but if we are mean to each other what is the freaking point? It’s like when someone bullies someone else for a differing opinion and calls it “discussing.” Yeah, whatever, bullying is bullying…discussing is actually listening to someone else and then sharing your opinion. I’ve never seen meanness like I’ve seen this last year. I blame it all on the beast that is what we’ve created in social media and news culture. We are all to blame.

If there is one thing I know these days is that nobody is perfect, and we could all do with a little more kindness and a lot less scrutiny.  I know I have some big opinions about certain things but sometimes it’s better to just be holy. And by holy, I mean…to shut it. Shush. Be quiet. Not say anything. Be silent.  And I’m not talking about if someone is in danger or is hurting themselves or someone else, or when God is truly calling us to speak up. And wear a mask because it’s about protecting other people. When did caring about others become a bad thing?

I know I’m not the wisest, or holiest, but I’ve been a woman my whole life, and a wife and a mother for a while now and I need to set an example in my own home first.

What do I want Grace to learn about being a woman?

That she can be feminine and strong.  That she can fight back when she’s being bullied.  That it’s never okay to make fun of someone else.  That you don’t have to pretend to be someone you’re not to have people like you. That being beautiful is not about what you wear, it’s about how you treat others, but mascara is a gift from God and mom-jeans don’t look good on anyone when they are riding SO high and I don’t care what any influencer says. A “friend” or “boyfriend” who calls you names, makes fun of you, hurts you is not your friend or your boyfriend, they are losers.(same goes for my boys in relationships) When someone loves you, they will not be mean to you. A gossip is a gossip is a gossip.  That Real Love is not selfish and jealous, or all-consuming. Real Love is staying true to yourself and growing with someone, not changing for them.   And that she is never ever alone…that we will fight for her when she’s depressed, we will fight for her when all the forces of this world threaten to make her feel less that who she really is…worthy of greatness. And we will be there when she needs us because we love her… she is a child of God who is going to be a woman of God.

Lessons for being a wife:

This is hard because I can’t imagine my Grace being anyone’s wife, she’s my baby…but this is off the top of my head. And this is only if she decides to get married. She doesn’t have to. But just in case she should have high standards. That romance is not overrated.  That you should be able to wear sweats or a dress and still feel beautiful. That you should always feel honored, and be honoring.   That you have to learn how to balance a budget and listen to each other, and that having a rich life  is not about money. That being healthy is a necessity to a healthy marriage. Laugh at yourself.  Marriage is hard.  Super duper hard. Sometimes you have to disagree, and stick up for yourself, and sometimes you have to just have to let them wear the poop colored mechanic’s suit with the fur collar to the soccer game and just pretend you don’t know them.   And that it’s a partnership…Never take any moment for granted.  Ever. And parenting is a team effort. It’s not a one person deal. And if that person isn’t willing to pray with you and for you, they shouldn’t be the person you are marrying.

So what kind of lesson do I want to teach my daughter about being a Mother?

Do not take having children for granted. It is a miracle and a gift.  And when you have kids…It does not make you less of a mother if you have an epidural(though when I was in labor with all my kids I went hiking up hill both ways while timing my contractions and shaving my legs…not really). It does not make you less of a mother if you end up having a c section(I have given birth vaginally and had a c section and thought the c section was just as amazing). It does not make you less of a mother if you cannot breastfeed, or have to give up breastfeeding early.  It does not make you less of a Mom if you adopt your children.  It doesn’t make you less of a Mother if you work or stay home, or if you have to put your kids in the gym daycare just to have a date with a treadmill.  It does not make you less of a Mom if you don’t home-school or send your kids to a private school.   Being a Mom is the hardest job you will ever have, there are times when you are covered in poop and puke.  And we don’t need alcohol to be a good parent, we need to stop normalizing that- and stop joking about that. Period. It’s ok to have a drink once in a while, but not if it’s becoming something we need. We need water. We need food. We need Jesus. We don’t need wine. That’s not me being catty. That’s me being real sisters, because I love you.  Because parenting is super hard, and adding addiction in makes it even harder. There are times when they are crying, and you still can’t figure out how to help them on their math.  Their hearts will be broken and your heart will physically ache for them… but it is worth every second.even when they are teenagers, and they break your heart every damn day.

And Lessons for being Holy:

I’m still trying to figure that out.  I still have a hard time trusting God when I see bad things happen to amazing people, when I witness the people I love the most having to fight cancer, when I still battle my own weakness.  I still feel the pressure to be more beautiful, to have more possessions, to fit in…but really we all know that having all those things doesn’t mean life will be good or work.  But I know, I know that prayer works. I know that Faith helps.  And I know that God loves me.  My prayer is that all my kids will find comfort in a God that is always present, and that they can learn to forgive others and live a life that is good and holy.  I’m not praying for perfect, I’m praying for happiness for them, that they feel and know Love.

And to the teacher who told me before they found out I had a learning disability that I wasn’t College Material, I went to College and didn’t get anything under a B.  To the boy who told me he could never date me because my skin was whiter than paper…I will look young when I’m old and porcelain skin will be back in style someday.  To the girls who spit on me and pulled my hair at my private elementary school and said I was ugly – I wasn’t, I wish I knew that then, but I know it now. I pray for you every day. I hope you are happy. I have a lot of regrets in life that keep me up at night, but I am thankful I was never ever mean.

But to all the people who have hurt my kids, I pray often that you are less annoying and mean, and there is some divine Justice, or that I get a chance to tell you off someday…except that I’ve promised my kids I won’t…sooooo…I’ll pray for you or whatever….

Yep, still working on that Holy thing. Pray for me would you?

I’m praying for you every day.

Joan Cleaver.  Super Woman.  The Virgin Mary.  And that woman referenced in Proverbs…The Perfect Wife. I’m sure she was also the perfect Mother.

I am not a contender. In fact I’m not even in the running.

I have a good Mother.  She wasn’t perfect, she didn’t speak in quiet whispers all the time.  But she was there. She taught me how to love even when it was tough, she shared her mistakes and held me when I cried.  She taught me to read, and now sits for hours with my kids fat crayons covering the table, coloring pictures with them while she bakes cookies in the oven. She taught me to love music, and let me sit next to her when I had my hair dyed bright pink and came to all the nights of my shows.  She told me when I hurt her feelings and was too blunt with my words – and slapped me across the face when I was cruel to her. And she forgave me, over and over again.  And has always been there. I don’t look back on my childhood and think or wish things had been different…I have a good mother and I had a good childhood. Things happened, and some of them were dark, but who doesn’t have stuff? I have a good Mother.

Because of that, and because of all the good mothers I know I was thinking of ways I can improve to become a better Mother. I’d like to be SuperMom.  Volunteer for everything, have it all together all the time…but even when I think I do, I’ll realize I’ve got a big stain on my pants the size of Texas and one of my boobs will pop out while helping kids check out library books at my kid’s school, giving them something else to check out.  I cook the same 20 meals over and over again, and my kids have Happy Meals during sports/music/dance seasons.  I read with them and shower them, but forgot to prune my roses this year, and cannot keep a vegetable garden alive.

So in light of my imperfection and instead of all the negative mommy guilt that seems to plague me recently I’m going to look at the Winning and Losing Moments of the past month that have ensured that I’m not in the running for America’s Mom of the Year…

Jonah is an amazing, talented and great kid. He is so smart and wise beyond his years. He is a faithful friend and really gives us no trouble. He also is completely bilingual which is so fun, and I love having him translate things for me.  He just figured out how to play “Clocks” by Coldplay on the piano and he fills our house with music. And he is so grateful which I love!

Winning: Jonah has decided and brags to everyone that I am the Mom the “Diary of a Wimpy Kid” books based the Mom on. I overheard him telling a friend “My mom is so fun and crazy!” He still kisses me goodbye and tells me he loves me without me saying it first. I know this is fleeting…but I’ll take it.

Losing: I am “the ONLY mom” who has only allowed him to read the first Harry Potter. After talking to multiple teachers/librarians we decided to have him age with Harry so he’ll be starting the second book in the next couple months, since the content matures with Harry…I’m also the ONLY mom who won’t let him watch Star Wars 3.  And he can’t go to a public restroom alone, and has only had one sleepover.  Meanest Mom Everrr, I tell you.

Daniel is an amazing kid with so much passion. He is so talented at everything he does whether it’s soccer or breakdancing, and he makes everything his own.  He is a tease and is a girl magnet, and can be painfully shy but has a hilarious sense of humor.  He has wanted to be a priest for two years, and talks often about his vocation some day. By the Way he does not want to be called Father Dan, only Father Daniel. Or Father Brick Tonic if he’s still breakdancing.

Winning: Daniel loves spending time with us, whether it’s us watching him breakdance or us drawing with him. Recently he’s been displaying Lego creations all over the house, and a shell collection, and a coin collection.  I let him do this…because it’s a good mess, and I know it’s important to him.  Daniel also loves praying as a family so I make sure he is always involved in our prayers every night.

Losing: He has been in time out twice since I started this post. He is being sassy, and making Grace smell his feet. Daniel has a lot of passion and sometimes lacks reason. Right now he has had it with me being consistent and thinks “life isn’t fair” and someday he is going to be able to live his life…and he’s back in time out.

Micah is the reason people have lots of kids. He is such a special kid, oozing with goodness and humor, he is sweet and smart, and will take anybody down who hurts his siblings. He is all boy and loves girls, and his friends, and anything that is Star Wars and Police. He also really likes Paul Simon music which makes him maybe the coolest 4 year old that has ever lived.

Winning: I am trying to buy tickets for Micah and me to see Taylor Swift in September. He said he’s going to marry her and has called her his girlfriend for over 2 years.  He loves her.

Losing: I waited too long to buy tickets and am now desperately seeking reasonably priced seats to her concert…and I am fully prepared to enter contests so he can meet her. He also doesn’t understand why we can’t have pizza every night.

Grace could have gone either way…she could’ve been a complete tomboy or the ultimate girl.  What we got was the fanciest toughest funnest girl in the world. Grace is so fun, she is busy and passionate and laughs all the time.  She loves to dance and sings loudly to any song on the radio.  When she loves you, she lets you know and she is so proud of who she is. Her current attire consists of a swimsuit and a tutu which she pulls off beautifully.

Winning: As much as I still struggle with the inner voices that plague my own self worth, I have never conveyed any of those things to Grace. She is so proud to live in her skin. A perfect example of this is in the cry room at church when another older little girl said to her, “You’re cute!” and Grace replied, “I’m not cute, I’m beautiful.”  But I also love that she is tough and fearless, she can keep up and is not afraid to. And she’s not lying when she says she is beautiful, she looks just like my Mom.

Losing: On Sunday she fell from the top of our play structure which is over six feet tall onto her face. Her nose and right around her eyes are crusty with scabs and swelling and she will have at least one black eye at the wedding we are attending this weekend.  It was the ONE time I have ever left her out there, I walked in briefly and she fell.  The guilt has been as overwhelming as the relief that she is ok. Losing big time there.

When I was growing up I always wished I could be the center of things. In fact I’d try to gather attention and a lot of times I’d garner the wrong type of attention.  Now I find myself at these PTA type meetings trying to find one familiar face, being at Chris’ work functions desperate for our friends, I’ve become a little insecure that I’ll say the wrong thing – that I will reflect bad on my kids, on our life.  But it’s amazing how God works…I have met some of the most amazing Moms through the school, and our friends from the Department really are family. And I don’t have to be someone else, I can just be myself. I can use the word blessed and also pissy, and I don’t always have to wear mascara. And when it comes to my kids I don’t need to be the center, I just want to be a part of their lives.

And when I’m home or in the car, or dancing with my kids somehow all my imperfections seem to make me more real to them.  They know I’m not perfect, they’ve seen me yell and cry.  And someday they will hurt me, really hurt me, and I’ll forgive them. And they’ll forgive me for being not being Joan Cleaver  whose hair never moved, or the Virgin Mary the Mama who knew all about sacrifice.

There are some really doozy Mamas out there, but there are also some amazing Mamas out there.  The Mamas I know who can’t have children in their womb and have opened their hearts to adoption, The Mamas who have had babies after losing babies, the Mamas who have a special needs children, and all the Mamas I know and love who love their kids and give that love with such abundance that it makes your heart ache, and the Women I love who so want to be Mamas but aren’t yet –but will someday however God blesses them, be fabulous Mamas.  And my Mom, who taught me to be there and to love with that selfless love that only comes from being open to whatever life throws your way.

So I’m off  to find Grace who is hiding under a blanket right in front of me… Not Mother of the Year or anything, but I’m pretty sure I’m winning at something.

I like statistics. I used to speak statistics as if they were the most solid truth.  I was pretty black and white back then. It was before I was married. Before I had kids. I had big plans about the kind of wife I was going to be, the kind of parent I would become.  Now I know that while statistics always have a huge basis of truth, there is usually room for a little error.  Sometimes things have a little more color around the edges, sometimes there is a little grey where it used to be dark black.  There is always another side…I’m sure 99.9% of the time. Which is why all my statistics are based off statistics and may not be totally factual.

I’m 100% sure this post will be long and sometimes a bit random if this is the first time you’re reading my blog.

I’m still not getting posts out as much as I’d like.  2011 is not messing around.  As much as I love the seat warmers in my Suburban, the miles I put on driving kids to activities definitely takes away from writing time.(I just read that a homemaker is statistically the fifth least likely to get into an accident) Still querying and writing, and spending an equal amount of time avoiding writing.  And then there was Pneumonia-aggedon-February-March, along with Micah’s health scare, and things just keeping rolling down the year of woes.

Two of Officer YP friends died…One in a freak accident.  He used to be my Officer’s Sgt. In fact once when we were on a date night, he tapped on the window of our mini-van/mega-fun with his flashlight while we were “on a date.” We were just kissing, a lot, which is the truth…my hubby likes to embellish, we are married after all.  It was when we were first getting used to being parents with two kids. YP had taken the night off to have some time alone with me…And never heard the end of it.  We went to a sad sad funeral and five days later took a dinner to his wife and daughter.  I couldn’t even find my voice as I stood on her porch to tell her how very sorry I was.  So I stood there, looking stupid holding out my lame chicken enchiladas, my voice under the soles of my feet.

Then on April 22, his friend was shot and killed while on duty. It was Good Friday.  One moment I was sitting in breakdance watching Daniel, the next moment I got the phone call.  “Leave now, I need you.” Chris’s voice was strained.  Less than 20 minutes later I sat in a pizza place with my in-laws, other family, and my kids, my heart aching out of my chest from the phone call as Chris choked on his tears, weeping so hard I could barely make out his words. “He’s gone. He’s dead.” In my shock I told my kids right then that Daddy’s friend had died.  In a busy pizza place, where they couldn’t really understand.  Later the next night, they stood at the vigil, and they understood. Daddy’s friend who sat at our campsite with us, who had a dog who ate rocks. Daddy’s friend who let them fish on his property.  Daddy’s friend who had a wife and two daughters.  Daddy’s friend who was also a policeman.  Shot and killed. Daniel and Jonah sobbed through the vigil, Micah stood stoically, and  Grace who we thought would make a fuss so we’d have to leave early was completely silent for two hours.  The following week we spent an entire Friday honoring Officer Chris Kilcullen, it was the saddest most beautiful tribute I’ve ever seen. He was a good man.

Then there were all the in between and aftermath…I finished my second half marathon and shaved over 30 minutes off my time –but broke down at mile 11, the grief and fatigue hitting me. If it wasn’t for some incredible Betty’s: Koya, HC, and Tracie I wouldn’t have kept going. If it wasn’t for Officer YP at the end with Amy and the kids I wouldn’t have finished. I helped with a huge event for my kid’s school and it distracted us on the hardest days. The community rose up and supported the Kilcullen family and still is, and I saw the pro-police community rally around. Our police family is closer than it’s ever been. The support has been amazing, and yet so sobering because this is what it took for us to have it. Then our own fears that have surfaced, having to plan my own husband’s funeral in case the worst happens, tell him who I want to alert me if something does happen, sleepless nights thinking about the women still here; Kristie  and Tiffany…women who I pray throughout the  day for.  And dealing with the anxiety attacks that Jonah has started to have, along with growing pains of being the last picked during a sport and trying to swing when you’re dealing with a nine-year old pitcher in little league.  Daniel acting out and crying more. Micah crawling in with us again. And Grace being two, a tornado who just can’t stay away from trouble… who most recently got into a fight with a fence at a bbq and got a staph infection.

Statistically Police related fatalities are up anywhere from 32-70% depending on different research.  But it doesn’t change the fact that this is our reality right now. This affects us 100%.  On November 19, 2009,  a friend of mine from middle school and high school, Trevor Nettleton, who was a police officer in Las Vegas was killed right after he got off duty.  As a wife beside the badge my heart broke for his family, and the nightmare they were encountering.  I had to compartmentalize a memory of him, so I could remember him as happy and vibrant as he was, because the anxiety was already starting to affect my own life.  It was the day he got his braces off, and he couldn’t stop smiling, he sat by me in English and we laughed and laughed about his big cheesy smile. Another good man, killed senselessly, tragically.

A month later; I don’t know what I would do if we didn’t have Faith. On the hardest days that has been the comfort that has gotten us through. Over 28% of Adults leave the religion they were raised with to go to another religion or none at all.  They give up.  Thank God that is not the case with us.  No matter how somber or stress-filled it was for Chris at work, no matter how harried the day was putting out fires at home ignoring my own fears at night we all met to pray. We make the time to go to Church.  It kept us sane. To me prayer is as natural as my love for Mascara.

Did you know that France is the most influential country for use of Mascara? Neither did I. Almost half of all French women ages 11-74 use Mascara weekly.  This time around I tried one of my birthday gifts from my friend Rose.  It was the brand 100% Pure, and was blackberry mini Mascara. It comes in this itty bitty silver tube. The actual Mascara is a deep shade of purple and it smells amazing.  My niece Mikaela complimented me on it, because in the sunlight it has a purplish shade.  I really like it.  The only times I won’t wear it is when I’m really tired, because it is a lighter Mascara so it can look like I’m not wearing any Mascara by the end of the day. It’s also definitely not waterproof. However from a scale of 1-10, I’d give it an 8. It’s different.  And it’s 100% Natural. That’s a great statistic.

Before I had kids I thought I knew what I was getting into. We decided  how we’d space them, how we’d discipline them…we were never ever prepared for the heart ache that comes from loving our children. From seeing them hurt, from having my child cry himself to sleep at night, from seeing them grow up and question things…I wasn’t prepared for what it would be like to not be able to raise one of them.  On Saturday we will buy flowers and visit our daughter Mary on her hill on the day I delivered her.  She would be almost 6, but is frozen as the memory of the baby I held in the hospital.  Almost 10-25% of pregnancies will end in miscarriage/loss, most of them early, however Mary Therese was not a statistic.  She is my oldest daughter and I’m still not over the loss of a child I will never see laugh or cry.  A voice I will never hear.  If we are looking at statistics of our own family, if Mary had lived, if Mary was sitting next to me right now twirling her hair I wouldn’t have my Micah.  I cannot imagine a world with out him.  So again there is no black and white here. I would never choose any of my children over each other. I would never wish I didn’t have my pregnancy with Mary, even with the end result. There is always room for grey.

If I weigh the risks maybe all of this is too dangerous.  I wouldn’t have risked so many things to be with Chris. I wouldn’t have decided not to pursue Theatre, and move to Eugene, Oregon.  I wouldn’t have gotten married. I wouldn’t have had my Jonah or my Daniel. I wouldn’t have let Chris turn our lives around by leaving appraising to be a police officer, where the divorce rate is around 75%.  I wouldn’t have tried for more children after losing our beautiful Mary.  I wouldn’t have my Micah or my Grace.  I wouldn’t have lost 87 pounds, and would’ve stayed scared of exercise, or fought back to truly changing our family dynamic. I wouldn’t love my siblings too much or be such a support to them, and my parents.  If this was too dangerous, I wouldn’t try to make new friends with my fears of being left out, keep writing,  let my kids get dirty or pee outside, or lend my husband to a city everyday knowing there is always a chance he may not make it home.

Because when I weigh the risks they are huge, but statistics only give you a number. I could find statistics to tell you that I am a fabulous wife, and statistics to tell you I am not winning mother of the year. Again. I could find statistics to say that someday my Officer will out grow me, and find a newer model who is “perkier” and a better cook.  But they’re just that. They won’t rule my life. I’ll take chances, because my faith has taught me that I’m stronger than any circumstance.  I have to hold onto that.  My sister Erin calls me the “Truth” because I say it how it is.  So here is it is…if tomorrow it’s all gone, it was worth it.  Chris was worth it.  The kids were worth it.

There is no black and white here, only color.   The risk is worth it. At least 99.9% of the time.