Last Days.

This morning, we got up and made airplane and helicopter pancakes for our 5 year old and talked about big things to come. Today is Paxton's last day of 4 year old preschool. He will officially be a "kindergardener" at the end of the day. Can he be old enough? Can Steve and I be old enough?! This morning felt like the end of an era.

Yesterday, the Kindergarden teacher invited all the parents to come sit in on a regular class session during the morning period and then to come back with our future kindergardeners for about an hour and half in the afternoon for a meet and greet with their new teacher. I took advantage of both and was so grateful I was able to. I watched how she interacted with those sweet, almost 1st graders. How she commanded their attention without yelling, threatening, or demeaning. I watched as they read aloud to her, as they wrote STORY PROBLEMS for their math equations and as they helped each other. I watched as they began their Read Well program, sitting on the floor. Then, outside, a siren could be heard. Immediately, they put their books down and began making the sign of the cross. They waited for the teacher to begin her prayer for anyone who may be injured. She concluded her prayer and they resumed with their lesson. These kids knew that that's what we do. They began before the teacher. Can I ask you how cool that is? How cool is it to have your children be educated in an environment where the teacher gets to utter the phrase "In Jesus' name" and not have to worry about prosecution?

We are so blessed to have what we have in this parish and this parish school.

Ella gets to spend the weekend with my mom, having some one on one quality "Noni time" and we get to play around here with the boys--who are looking more and more alike every day and making me realize just what a family we have become. Paxton helps buckle the baby into his seat, Ella watches out for him when they're in the front yard. Paxton helped Ella put her shoes on yesterday and when Ella locked herself in the bathroom on accident it was Paxton who began to look very worried and started to cry a little. When Shepherd heard Ella banging on the door and crying, he started crying. Can you guess who wanted to cry then?

Families who cry together stay together. We are a family. We talk. We laugh. We sing. We cry. We play. We grow.

I have a feeling that when I go pick Paxton up I might cry. On this, his last day, it feels like a beginning. Beginnings are beautiful things. And so, sometimes, are endings.

Holy articulation, Batman!

Ella: Mom, do you want a bite of my sandwich?

Me: No thanks, honey.

Ella: But, mom, it's wonderfully delicious!



I have a feeling that 3 year old preschool is going to seem wonderfully unchallenging.

Gratitude.

I could tell how many people were praying for me this weekend. I thank you and them. It was completely evident that I was not alone.

The retreat was amazing, just the right balance of structured time and "homework" and time to just be. Time to just reflect and pray and let the Holy Spirit use me, breath for me, speak to me. It's amazing the calmness and peace you can feel when you take away external distractions. It's amazing where you see God. Where you feel His majesty and undying love. I am not worthy.

I also realized just how much women need other women, specifically mothers. We are so hard on ourselves. We doubt ourselves. We can isolate ourselves and punish ourselves. We can live in fear and torment. We can get so fixated on what others might think of our motherhood that we forget that it's God whom we are doing this for. It is He who will strengthen us, comfort us.

John 15:11
I have spoken these things to you so that my joy might be in you and your joy might be complete.

Labor has been on my mind a lot latey. (With just over 5 weeks to go, how could it not?!) I decided about four months ago that I was going to offer my pain to God, as redemptive suffering. There are a few people in my life who live with pain all the time. They suffer a cross that is heavier than I would want to bear. Having had three inductions, and three epidurals, I have yet to endure the entirety of labor pain. I want it to be different this time. I want to trust God's timing. He has a birthday for this baby. He has a plan. Three times in a row now I haven't been willing and/or able to stick it out and trust His plan in the timing or in the ability to survive the pain.

II Timothy 1:7
For God did not give us the spirit of fear, but a spirit of power, of love, and of self control.

John 14:27
Peace I leave with you; my peace I give to you. I do not give as the world gives. Do not let your hearts be troubled and do not be afraid.

His peace is much different than the peace given by worldly things. We may not be able to overcome the fear of birth, but God is perfect and it is His perfect love that can cast out fear for us. We have to let Him take it from us when we are unable. Fear is from Satan who wants to torment us. (Christ Centered Childbirth).

1 John 4:18
There is no fear in love. But perfect love casts out all fear because fear has to do with torment.

I am reading "Christ Centered Childbirth" and "The Bradley Method". I have been laughed at and questioned. "What's the big deal?", "You're crazy", "Why would you do that to yourself?" have all been comments I have received. I do not feel judged. I feel sad for these women. I feel how much they are not understanding my purpose. I do not believe pain relief medications are inherently evil. I have three beautiful children to prove that. I do not believe that people who seek relief are weak. I do not believe that it makes you "less of a woman or mother" if you get an epidural. I do not believe that it means you are lacking in faith.

I do believe that I, personally, can offer this pain up and pull Christ into it with me. I do believe that I have been fearfully and wonderfully made and what a better opportunity for me to prove to God just how much I love and trust Him. I do believe that I can use this as a prayer of supplication for me, for my family, for my children, for those I love who have to endure pain on a regular basis. And even, dare I say, a prayer of gratitude. Gratitude for a body that allows me to bring forth life. That allows me to carry a baby. Because there are so many women who cry themselves to sleep at night because they can't.

Because of original sin, childbirth is supposed to be painful. Because of Jesus' love we are supposed to seek His grace and comfort.

Retreat.

Literally.

I am retreating. I am heading up this weekend to what is sure to be the most peaceful and calming retreat. We have a Marian theme this year and I will be surrounded by friends in faith--the best kind.

I am so grateful to have the blogger friends that I do, the kind who give support and encouragement all the while inspiring me to look deeper and to see farther down the road. I am grateful for family and extended family who understand my vocation and make me feel appreciated. I am grateful for my children who make me laugh deeper, make me cry harder, and make my life immeasurably richer than it ever could have been otherwise.

I am grateful for my huband. I am grateful for his unwavering strength, calmness, and gentle love. I cannot imagine what I would do if I were gone all day, working, and then came home to a wife who just seemed to fall into a puddle of either tears or anger. I cannot imagine myself being so gentle and compassionate in the face of personal weakness. God truly blessed me with Steve. He really did.

I'll check in after I get back and, until then, know that I am thanking all of your for your support and love.

The grass is always greener at the cemetary.

Today was exhausting, without glory or gratification. It was an everything-seems-to-be-going-wrong kind of day. Nothing measurable or tangible. Little things, really.

Regardless, I found myself sitting out on our front lawn, at 5pm, crying. Just crying. Life just felt like too much. My sweet Paxton and Ella were oblivious to my crying as they happily played in the grass. Or so I thought. Ella came up to me and, as I tried quickly to wipe my tears said, "Mommy? Why do you have raindrops on your face?" I didn't answer. Out came more tears. Paxton said, " Oh Mommy, don't cry, we won't run away." Oh, the sweetness and innocence.

Shepherd is at a very difficult age for me right now. An age that I remember strongly disliking with both Paxton and Ella. An age where one must repeat "no" --repeat everything in fact, multiple times. An age where there is a communication breakdown, an utter disregard and misunderstanding of authority. An age where the idea of sharing is as foreign as multiplication or taxes.

So, I just cried.

And then? Then I found myself on a long drive after Steve got home from work. A long, quiet drive. For two hours. I decided that I was hungry. I bought some california rolls and headed to a place where I knew it would be quiet, no one would bother me or ask me questions or directions. A place where no one would speak. The cemetary. It was beautiful. And quiet.

After enjoying my solitude and self-pity it was time to go. I did not realize it was time to go until I had this thought after looking around at all the headstones: "Oh *sigh*, they all have it SO easy."

Yeah, time to go.

I called my mom to get some comic relief and tell her my pitiful thought. Her reply was eloquent, beautiful, understanding,and gentle. It went something like this:

"Oh, Honey! Get the hell out of the cemetary!"

Pool party.

This post is a little overdue. Mother's Day was amazing, complete with lemon curd crepes and fresh strawberries in bed in the morning, Mass and babies baptisms, a lovely afternoon backyard brunch with friends, visits with Grandma Great and Grandma, and a quiet backyard dinner with barbequed lobster, prawns and steamed asaparagus. I am so blessed. My husband is amazing and I know how lucky I am that he really tried so hard to make the day relaxing and special--all for me. Thank you, love. The kids were so good and I really felt just how lucky and blessed we are, that God gave us to each other. It was probably the best Mother's Day yet.

The Mother/Daughter Tea was a hit as well. Steve got home at midnight on Friday, got up early the next morning and helped (okay did it FOR me) to find all my china, servingware, and glassware for the table from our huge storage unit. It was so much fun to go up to the gym and see all of these tables, each carefully decorated with each hostesses personal style. One was Betty Boop themed, another western themed, complete with bandanas for napkins and cowboy boots for teacups, and another was decorated with ALL lace. My mom said that she could have picked mine out without even recognizing my china. I'm a calalilly, tulip, and lots of white sort of girl. Clean, simple, pretty. Or so I think. Everyone was dressed up. At one table, all the ladies and girls had big, fun hats on! I loved that idea. It was so nice to have my mom there, sitting next to me and Miss Ella. Some great friends and their little girls came. There was even entertainment for us. A Barbershop Quartet, clogging 3 and 4 year olds (who were rather scantily clad and overly made-up. Don't get me started), and even drawings and prizes. I had heard about, but never been to one of these "Teas". I will definitely be hosting again next year.

I know I keep saying it, but I am starting to feel a lot more tired. Wah. I know. I'm sorry. The good news is that there are lots of things I can do about it and I have been--including going on longer walks, trying to carve out rest time during the day, and letting myself just relax more when I can. In fact, I have what's sure to be a very restful, prayerful retreat coming up this weekend that I am SO looking forward to. It's about three hours north of here, almost to the Canadian border. The drive alone will be so nice to just meditate and say a few rosaries for specific intentions.

Today we are heading to some friends house for a "pool party". You know, the kind of pool that's about 5 feet in diameter, heavy plastic and has fish stickers on the bottom? It'll be so nice to let the kids splash around and even nice to just let us pregnant mommies rest,  talk and swell up in this 90 degree heat. We will snack on cold, crisp cucumber slices, grapes and sip lemonade. We will slather on sunscreen and discuss luxuries of the past. Belts. Pants with zippers. Red wine. Sleep. Our ankles.

Mother/ Daughter Tea.

I am trying to gear up for the Mother/Daughter Tea tomorrow. I am hosting a table and three girlfriends, their young daughters, my daughter and my mom will be there. I am so excited about being able to do it this year, having my own little girl to take.

The part I am NOT excited about? Going to our storage unit bright and early in the morning with Steve, who gets home tonight about midnight, and rummaging through trying to find my china, my linens, my glassware, and my flatware. Um, I think I know where they *might* be. If I can't find them in time to head up to the school gym and set the table? Well, I suppose disposable can feel just as special. Um, NOT.

I didn't really anticipate needing my china until we were at least in our new house. How wrong I was. I better just bring it back home after the Tea tomorrow. After all, Steve's birthday is coming up in June and we'll be having another baby in early July. Both will require some china, right? Er....maybe just beer. Yeah. Nothing says "Happy Birthday" or "Welcome home, New Baby!" like beer.

I am tired. This might be a longer 7 weeks than I expected. Is it possible that they could have my due date wrong? By, say, a MONTH?

Pink Popcorn.

We're back!

We (Paxton and Ella and I) got back last night and were soon thereafter greeted by Grandma and Grandpa delivering baby Shepherd. Um, he grew. He was HUGE! We missed him so much and it was so sweet to see how excited he was to be around his big brother and sister again.

It was sad to leave Daddy in San Diego and even sadder to come home to the empty refridgerator that would need to be filled and the mountain of dirty clothes that would need to be laundered. But trudge on we did. I picked up the dog, washed the clothes, got Paxton to preschool and back, had photos developed for the kids, and returned phone calls and emails. 41 to be exact. Man, we're popular people when we're unavailable!

We had an amazing time. Arguably one of the best family vacations yet. We went to SeaWorld, Legoland, Coronado, the Beach, The Mission Basilica, ate wonderful sushi (even the kids), swam in the pool, and laughed a lot. We drank water, applied sunscreen, and then drank more water. I walked slowly. Very slowly. Much like a sumo wrestler or a three toed sloth. That, my friends, must be a combination of late pregnancy and heat. It reminded me of all the Bahamians we met on our honeymoon in Nassau. They, too, walked very slowly. They were dressed up, looking wonderful and professional, and walking VERY SLOWLY. I am assuming there could be a potential chafing issue if one is not careful in hot weather like that. I think someone said that San Diego was having some kind of heat wave. It was awesome. Beautiful. And hot.

Any parent knows that no family vacation is complete without someone vomiting. This time? The lucky girl? That'd be Ella. She was vomiting throughout one night and one day and fought a fever so high ( we didn't have a thermometer to tell us just how high) that she started hallucinating. She was completely confused, hot, and laughing about pink popcorn. Pink popcorn. It was 2 a.m, and our 3 year old was naked, jumping up and down on the bed, reaching for pink popcorn.

After one final episode of vomiting, at the Basilica very near a beautiful life-size statue of the Pieta no less, she recovered beautifully. She was required to follow our strict guidelines for the remainder of the trip. Hat. Sunscreen. Purchased insulated toddler cup from Target. Gatorade and water. Lots of it. Little walking. Ella and I were a pair. Me, waddling through legoland, and her, sucking down grape gatorade like it was going out of style. Both of us peeing about every ten minutes for two very different reasons. The boys had a great time on rollercoasters and Miss Ella and I had some great talks. Afterall, what can two people do who are either too short or too pregnant to enjoy most of the fun rides? We did have a great time though. We reallly did.

It's good to be home. There really is no place like it. Although, maybe I'm calling it home too quickly. Upon entering every elevator on our trip, Ella needed to say to anyone who was already on or about to get on, " Hi. I'm Ella. I'm three." To which they would usually reply, " Hi, Ella."

But one lovely woman said, "Hi, Ella! You're three? That's cool! Where do you live, Ella?"

Ella: Um....in a rental.

Down by the river?

San Diego or bust!

We're off to San Diego this morning. Bags have been packed, camera is charged, backpacks are sufficiently overloaded with activity books, kindergarten workbooks (Thank you, Grandma) and Sesame Street Uno cards (Thank you, Noni), and a doctor's note and prenatal records for Mommy. Apparently, 8 month pregnant women make airlines nervous. I should just tell the lady at the ticket counter, "Look, my huband says he refuses to EVER have a baby in California. So, let's not worry". Somehow, I don't think she'll be comforted.

Seaworld, Legoland, the Zoo, Pacific Beach, The Mission and SOME GREAT SUSHI! await us. Oh, and a maternity swimsuit. That'll be fun. What you wear in San Diego stays in San Diego.

Steve will be staying down an extra four days for a conference for work. The poor guy is going to have to suck it up, enjoy all that sunshine, those great restaurants AND "sleep in". He'll be in my prayers. It's gonna be rough.

Thank you, Grandma for keeping, entertaining, and loving on baby Shepherd. He will no doubt have MUCH more fun with you than he would being dragged to and fro, skipping naps and riding in rented strollers. Five days on 'the farm' with slides, tractors, and kitties is just what the doctor ordered for this 16 month old!

This little vacation is long overdue for this family! We'll check in after we're home.

How can there possibly be a reward big enough?

I was on the phone in our bedroom. I heard lots of silence. I walked out to find the boys playing cooperatively on the floor (which is really saying something that a five year old and a sixteen month old are playing together at all!). I walked further, into the kitchen. And there, right before my eyes, was the most beautiful thing I have ever seen: Ella. UNLOADING THE DISHWASHER. Seriously. I don't know what came over my precious three year old daughter but, whatever it was, I can only pray it never stops coming over her.

Let's just say, that girl? She scored some major stickers. Big stickers. With kitties on them. She can wear them while she eats the chocolate I got her for dinner and while she rides the pony I am going to pick up for her tonight.

St. Joseph and his beautiful wife.

Today is the feast day of St. Joseph the Worker, my husband's chosen confirmation name and his patron saint, my step-father's name, and the patron saint of fathers everywhere.

"He is that just man, that wise and loyal servant, whom you placed at the head of your family. With a husband's love he cherished Mary, the virgin Mother of God. With fatherly care he watched over Jesus Christ your son, conceived by the power of the Holy Spirit."

Today is also May Day, May 1st, the Crowning of Mary. May is Mary's month and that of mothers everywhere. Taken from the Magnificat - " The Blessed Virgin comes to generate in us the union that she experiences with the Son in her womb. Only this puts to flight all our crippling individualism and insularity. In Mary's face, in her voice, in her gaze we find what we have been lookng for amidst all the trying and frustrating moments of our life."

Afterall, it is through Our Mother that we have the Greatest Gift of all; Christ the Healer, the Good Shepherd, the Peacemaker.

Marian adoration and devotion are of great comfort to me these days. I feel so blessed to be able to call her Mother and to flee to Her for help when I am at my wits end, when I feel like I have no more love or patience to give at the end of the day, when all I want to do is whine about my aching back or my ever-swelling cumbersome belly. The Mother of all mothers.

John 19:26-27

When Jesus saw his mother there, and the disciple whom he loved standing nearby, he said to his mother, "Dear woman, here is your son," and to the disciple, "Here is your mother." From that time on, this disciple took her into his home.