Are You Normal?

My post titled, 'Six Confessions of a Single Mother' has scored more views than any other post. In fact the second most popular post has less than 30% of the audience of my 'Confessions' post. When I discovered this last night, I wondered what about that post draws the most readers, and why would I want to read that post more than any of the others?

I thought of two possible reasons. One, people love gossip, and a 'confession' is a good place to find some. Or two, people are looking to see if some of the things they feel guilty for are included, which would justify in their own mind, that they are at least as normal as me (no comment). Truth be told, I am as nosy as anyone else, and I too, would want to know if someone else out there is guilty of the same 'sins' as myself. After discovering what people are curious about I decided to amass a list of things I consider oddities about myself and my family, that way my loving readers can decide for themselves whether or not they are 'normal' ;) (or rather, whether or not I am).

• Saturday is our family's day to be as lazy as we want. While we try to observe Sunday as a day set aside for God and family, Saturday is a day to sleep in, do laundry in our pajamas....actually, we frequently do everything in our pajamas on this day. However, this is also the day that random people tend to spring surprise visits on us. Picture this: we are all in our pajamas and the house is a wreck because everyone is busy doing their own thing. Our house is too small to have a room that is always clean and ready for visitors, every room in our castle is lived in profusely. A knock is heard on the door. My children are brainwashed trained to be silent, no sudden movements until I decide whether we 'are home' or not. Everyone is huddled in the hallway as I check the peephole in the door. If I do decide to open the door, it is either someone we know, or because my pajamas could double as casual wear and my hairs are all pointing in acceptable directions. If I don't answer the door, we all hunker down in the hallway until they give up and drive away.
• I have to start this paragraph off with a disclaimer: boys are weird, they just are. There are several days of the week when we aren't home from the time we leave for school until long after the sun has gone down. We have one bathroom. Six people. One throne. Oftentimes nature calls all of us at the exact same time, as soon as we get home! That's a problem. In cases of urgency, I give my boys permission to make good use of the thin strip of our property located behind the garage where the tall weeds grow. Shhhhh!!!
• I have a few legs and the smudged remains (not the fat body, that's just gross!) of a spider I killed in my room....over a year ago. It's partial corpse is located on one wall near the ceiling. I seriously believe that it will scare away other spiders who don't want to share in that spider's fate....so far, it's worked :)
• I want to imitate the virtues of Jesus and Mary, but I'm afraid to pray for patience for fear one of my children will come down with ADHD; and I'm afraid to pray for humility for fear that I will grow a goiter. There I've said it. So, I've become very specific...."Please, God, help me to be patient when my child still can't spell 'necessary' no matter how many times I go over it with him, and when so-and-so commits the ultimate crime at the breakfast table and looks at so-and-so, please grant me patience then, as well." Also, "Please grant me humility to NOT say "I told you so" when one of my children falls out of her chair and bumps her elbow right after I told her not to sit on the chair that way."
• This one is really weird. Sometimes, I worry that I don't worry. Did you get that? My grandmother (whom I love with my whole heart), worries when she doesn't have something to worry about, which is the exact opposite. I worry that I never worry because I wonder if that means I don't care.  I don't think it does, so I won't worry about it.
• I sleep very well. So well, in fact, that it seems like a mere second from the time I fall asleep to the time my alarm goes off telling me to rise and shine. Most mornings I wake in the exact same position that I fell asleep in, sore and stiff. Tonight, I am going to set my alarm for the middle of the night so when I wake up and see that I still have three hours until morning, I can roll over with a smile on my face and thank God for the 'extra' sleep.

Tomorrow is All Hallows Eve, because I have stayed up too late as it is, I will be walking in a zombie-like state after I step out of bed and I will probably look and feel that way all day long....at least I won't have to dress up.

Happy Trick-or-Treating,

Gina

Scrappy Happers

An unexpected reprieve came my way this past weekend. Through the generosity of a good friend and the prompting of my sister, I was gifted with two nights at the Berachah Ministries cabin at Buck Creek, WA. for a weekend of scrapbooking in the company of friends, old and new. It almost didn't happen on account of the difficulty of finding sitters for the fabulous five, but after my brother-in-law offered to take the boys, and my other sister and a friend offered to take the girls, I was good to go.

My limited supplies and pictures were already packed from the last night of scrapbooking at Ben Franklin several months ago. Truth be told, I probably would never get any work on my books done anymore if it weren't for my sister. In days past, I was an avid scrapbooker and have Samuel and Hunter's baby books complete to their first year, in addition to multiple family albums. Benjamin's book is about half-way complete, Isabelle's book had a few pages that I did while at Ben Franklin's, and poor Cecelia's book is completely absent of pictures. Period.

The girls are getting to an age where they'd love to pour over the concrete memories of their babyhood, and seeing the look on their faces when I tell them I haven't started their books yet is enough to prompt me into action. The time came after school on Friday for the kids to leave with their weekend caregivers and for me to take off.

It would take and hour to get there, but I welcomed the solitude. Stopping at a drive-up espresso shop, I ordered a pumpkin chai latte. Coffee in hand, I cranked up a Gaelic Storm song and sang along as the sky darkened with the inevitable sinking of the hidden sun. Humility aside, I am an amazingly good singer when (and only when) I am by myself and the music is really loud. 

The cabin was located at Buck Creek, the same place where we camped this summer. However, a little further up the dirt road, were several hidden buildings that I had never seen before. It was dark by the time I arrived and the rain was coming down in a fury. The ground looked as though it were boiling the water that had just fallen from the sky. I parked near other cars and sat in the van for a few minutes. There was nobody in site and I wasn't exactly sure where to go. In fact, I wasn't exactly sure I wanted to get out of the warmth and shelter of my van. After coming to terms with the fact that I was going to get wet, I got out, left my belongings in the van, and went searching for the others.

What I found inside was a comfort to my soul. Warmth, familiar faces, and a dinner of pasta and garlic bread just about to be served. (This was perfect since it was Friday and, as Catholics, Tina and I wouldn't be eating meat) The atmosphere was upbeat and exciting. Everyone was happy to be away from the doldrums of daily affairs; no dishes, no cooking, no attending to the needs of others. For once there were others, attending to our needs. It was refreshing.

After dinner, I unpacked my van, assisted by my sister and an incredibly caring and generous friend (one of the women who made it possible for me to attend the weekend, free of charge), we carried my suitcase and bedding into the lodge that seven of us would be sharing for the next couple of days. Then they helped me get my scrapbooking supplies into the main building. The scrapbooking room was unlike anything I had ever seen before. A large room with floor-to-ceiling windows facing the forest, was crowded with numerous tables where papers, scissors, ribbons, stickers, letter and shape cutting machines, laptops and printers, and all sorts of tools I had never used before were spread out among treasured pictures, with the intention of capturing memories in a glorified format.

I felt welcomed by all, and was excited to greet old friend and meet new ones. My sister already had a table prepared for me directly across from her and right next to the fire place. Unloading my supplies, I got to work. It was about 7 pm. Around 2 am, we called it a night.

Morning came early, but with a hot breakfast being served at 8:30 we were enticed to get up and get ready. The only problem was we had one bathroom to share with seven women. I'll just say...it was a hat day for me.....

The highlight of the day for me was when we took a break from scrapbooking and walked down to a nearby field to go zip-lining. This has been on my bucket list since I first heard about it! Yes, it was still raining, but with this opportunity getting soaked wasn't an issue... hair dries, and clothes can be changed. We harnessed up, and put on our helmets. It was cold and wet but nobody seemed to mind. Without hesitation, I climbed the stairs that had been carved out of the hillside. On top of the hill was a pole, it looked much like the telephone poles near our house except it had spikes sticking out on both sides. We had to use these to get up the pole to the platform that we would be jumping off. So far, no fear.

Up the pole, I went. It was wet, muddy from the climbers before me, but still no fear. I stood on the platform on top of the pole and my heart began racing. I wasn't sure if it was from the climb or from adrenaline setting in. I came to realize it was adrenaline, mixed with something just short of uncertainty. Uncertainty over whether or not I could make the leap of faith. When you jumped, it was in a downward direction something similar to free falling until the wire caught your weight and carried you off. I've gone skydiving twice before, but both times it was tandem with the instructor. I didn't have a moment to think whether or not to jump, it was; One...Two...Three...and we were out of the plane falling with nothing connecting us to the earth.

With this, it had to be my decision. I even asked the man who was on the platform with me if he would push me, but I guess that is against regulations. It was up to me to make the jump.  My own stubborn temperament and the thought, "If that lady can do it, so can I" was, in the end, what got me off of the platform. Once I took the leap of faith, and I realized that I was flying without the fear of dying, I thoroughly enjoyed speeding through the air as the rain poured down. I let go of the rope with my hands and leaned back actually pretending I was a character from Peter Pan who, with the help of Pixy Dust and Happy Thoughts, was able to fly....who says kids get all the the fun?!

Something about flying in the rain absolutely wore me out. When we got back to the scrapbooking hall, I could barely keep my eyes open. Trying to make a page that was worthwhile was fruitless as I kept zoning out and finally I realized my creative juices were all dried up. I decided to go back to my bed and take a nap.....oh wonderful sleep! My sister, Tina, followed me and we slept for a good hour. Refreshed and rejuvenated, we headed back to the other building for another night of scrapbooking.

Friday, at school, I was having a difficult time with Isabelle. Being her mother and teacher has proven to be trying, both for her and I. While we both love it, we both also find it difficult to separate the relationship of mother/daughter from teacher/student. By the time the end of the school-day came, I wanted to throw my hands up and shout a giant "Hallelujah! See ya Sunday!" But while scrapbooking her baby book, I looked over pictures of her past five years. They brought me back to moments of joy, tenderness, and laughter and reminded me of why I love being her mother. That is where the real worth of creating scrapbook lies, it helps you to treasure the ones you love by remembering the loving moments.

I am grateful to Maribelle who made all the arrangements for me to come, to my sister for prompting me to complete my children's baby books, to Trina for the fleece shirts she brought for each of us, to those who volunteered to take care of my children, and to the crew of Berachah Ministries who made it all special.

Happy Days to all from the Scrappy Happer:

Gina.

On a completely unrelated side note: this creepy, nasty giant was in a pan I pulled out of my cupboard as I was going to start dinner. I just about died....really. Luckily, Samuel has come into manhood and saved the day without a blink of the eye. (he sure doesn't take after his dad in this regards...oops, did I just type that?)

Simple-minded Pleasures

“All the great things are simple, and many can be expressed in a single word: freedom; justice; honor; duty; mercy; hope, coffee" - Winston Churchill....I just completed the quote...perfected it, really.

I woke up this morning after four and a half hours of sleep, and forced myself to get up and prepare for the day that was coming, ready or not. Tired and sluggish...I stumbled to the kitchen where I naturally march in a zombie state every morning after I've accepted the fact that time won't stop and allow myself a few more hours in my cozy, warm bed. Then, as I was making my morning mojo juice, known to the common folk as coffee, I realized there are certain pleasures that make my day worthwhile regardless of any other pitfall. Simpleminded pleasures, I guess you could say.

These aren't the big ones; kids, God's grace, friends, family etc., etc. These are even simpler pleasures.

1. After the teapot screams at me to announce my water is ready, I remove the teapot and stand at the coil burner that is burning red hot, I place my cold fingers over it like it's a campfire on a foggy fall morning and relish the warmth it gives.
2. Monday mornings, if my children's clothes are still in the dryer, after having a weekend to be cleaned and ironed, I turn on the clothes dryer, not only to iron their uniforms, but to be able to give them to them all nice and warm and comfy; hopefully enticing them to get dressed quickly before the warmth fades away.
3. Listening to the sound of silence pierced with the rumble of buttons hitting the sides of the dryer as the clothes tumble around and around in the hot air.
4. The peace that comes from knowing that all of us showered the night before...and the morning won't be so hectic (why don't we do this every night?!)
5. This one has become a simple pleasure, but it used to torment me; waking up before the sun. Now, when I get up and outside my home is still dark as night, I feel like we are enveloped by a soft blanket and the light in our home is the warmth.

Well, there you have it, five simpleminded pleasures that I get to enjoy in the mornings when I wake before the crack of dawn. Happy Monday everyone!

Gina.

Letting Go of the Monkey

“Forgiveness is the fragrance that the violet sheds on the heel that has crushed it.” ― Mark Twain

There has been a 'monkey' on my back and it's been weighing me down for over four years now. This 'monkey' is not the cute Curious George type and neither is it my kids as they hang on me like I am the steel bars at a local park.

If I could put an image to this metaphorical monkey, it would be more like the baboon pictured here:

Now if that doesn't send chills down your spine, I don't know what would. Most of the time this monkey closes it's freaky mouth and hangs silently, so after four and a half years of carrying this 'monkey' around on my back, I have almost forgotten it is there. But then there were times when the 'monkey' would open wide and bellow it's unworldly screech that only I could hear in the depths of my heart. This monkey has a name, it is Resentment.

Today I took a stand against Resentment. I looked it straight in it's cold dark eyes and told it to "Go to H***!" because if I didn't, there is a very real possibility that I would go there right along with it. Jesus said we should pray "...forgive us our trespasses AS we forgive those who trespass against us." How could I expect God to forgive me for all I have done against His infinite Majesty if I could not forgive something someone has done to me...a small and insignificant part of God's creation?

 

I have allowed Resentment to hang on for so long because my weak and silly self thought that if I let it go, I would condone the wrong that has been done. The funny thing is, NO ONE EVEN CARES! The only thing that hanging on to Resentment has really accomplished is, it has weakened me and kept me from moving forward, closer to my God.

 

Today I freed myself from the 'monkey' on my back. It wasn't easy. It was like its fleshy fingers gripped tightly, unwilling to let me go. At first, I felt a loss, even loneliness. What would I cling onto now? Who would I speak of when I needed to vent about the past, again and again? My release of Resentment did not feel like a load off my shoulders like I expected it to. It felt like a void.

 

But now, there is nothing holding me back. There is nothing preventing me from spiritual growth. I will learn to fill that void with Goodness Himself and will be able to soar to higher heights and grander ideals.

 

I know, however, that having carried Resentment around for so long, I may feel it there even though we have been separated. I asked God today to help me lose the memory of my 'monkey' and, in time, I know I will.

 

May we all have the grace to forgive,

 

love, Gina.

 

'

Finding My Way

"It takes little talent to see what lies under one's nose, a good deal to know in what direction to point that organ." - W.H. Auden

I don't have a GPS gadget in my van, and God thought it would be funny to make me without my internal GPS gadget. It almost goes without saying that, if I am going somewhere, my route takes about 3-4 more turns than the average human being (it's pretty bad when you leave a store at the mall with the intention of going back the way you came, and your four-year-old is more likely to start heading in the right direction than you are).

So, before I left for Spokane, I printed out three sets of directions from Google that went; home to the hotel, hotel to Grandma's house, Grandma's house to the church.  Sometimes, even Google maps make me get lost, however, this time they were successful at getting me from point A to point B.

After waking up early at the hotel, I rounded up the kids and carted them over to their grandmother's house. They were as excited about being there as I was about not having to worry about how they were doing while I was away during the day.

Friday's schedule for the conference started with Mass at 8:15...I arrived at 8:26. After Mass was breakfast and I headed downstairs like a fish out of water. I wandered around having not the slightest idea of what to do or where to go. It never felt so good to see the familiar faces of other participating members from our parish in Tacoma.

The talks were informative and uplifting and strengthened my Catholic faith in a deep way. I met many new people that I know I will most likely see next year, and with whom I will continue to build upon the bond that is there when something as significant as faith is shared. The highlight of the event was the candlelit Rosary walk. With a statue of Our Lady of Fatima held high, the faithful lined up before and after her with candles held in a specially made wind guard that had on it the verses of the song we sang at the end of each decade of the Rosary. Most of us had to have our candles re-lit as the wind kicked up pretty hard. When the procession came to an end, we gathered in the church where the young girls proceeded to bring bouquets of flowers to Mary's shrine.

Afterward, when the evenings events were over and most people had dispersed, I knelt down before the shrine to have a heart to heart with our Blessed Mother. I don't know why, but even having been a wife and mother myself, I've always had a hard time going to our Lady in prayer as most Catholics naturally do. I have wanted to have a devotion to her, as I see the logic in going to God's Mother to ask for her loving intercession, after all, from the cross, Jesus gave her to all of us to be our own spiritual Mother, as He gave us to her.

In my prayer, I told her that if she wanted me to have a greater devotion to her, show me the way. I told her I was sorry that I didn't try harder in the past, and I asked her for a second chance. In the midst of my prayer, I felt comforted, and tears swelled in my eyes. The only other person in the church was a young nun that I didn't know very well. She was kneeling in silent prayer. After a few moments she got up from her position a few pews behind me, went up to the shrine and took a beautiful pink rose from one of the vases that were just recently filled with the fragrant buds. I wondered in my mind what she was doing, thinking she was going to place it in front of another shrine in the church. She walked toward me and asked me, "It's Gina, right?" I replied almost as a question, "Yes." "This is from Mary." she said, handing me the rose.... I was floored.

Without thinking, I said incredulously, "Why did you just say that?!"

"Because it's okay. It's going to be fine." she answered as she hugged me and walked out of the chapel. Tears flowed freely now. I was overwhelmed by the love of my Mother. I understood that she was showing me the direction to her Son, and it was through Her. I certainly don't have to give up my relationship with Jesus by having a devotion to His Mother, that relationship will grow by the guidance of the one who loved Him best.

Most likely, I will continue to get lost trying to get from Point A to Point B, but getting to the Sacred Heart of Jesus is a straight path...directly through the Immaculate Heart of His Mother.


Our Lady of Fatima, pray for us.

Road trip: 10/11/12

My day began at 2:46 am. I stumbled into the bathroom like a zombie, answered natures call, and stumbled back into bed still half asleep. Eight minutes later Cecelia found my bed in the dark and helped herself to my pillow and blankets. Usually, when this happens, I go right back to sleep, but the night of 10/11/12 my poor brain couldn't stop thinking about what I needed to do before the kids and I headed to Spokane, WA for the annual Fatima Conference at Mt. St. Michael's Church. According to the website the conference is:

"A gathering of Traditional Catholics from around the country for five days of Latin Masses, spiritual exercises, inspiring lectures and sermons, in the beautiful Pacific Northwest."

I could only attend from Friday thru Sunday, but I looked forward to getting away and attending to my spiritual needs. My mother-in-law lives in Spokane and was more than happy to have the kids with her during the day, and even offered to allow all of us to stay at her house. After an hour of thinking...not voluntarily, about everything I needed to accomplish before our departure, fed up and tired, I got up and wrote down what I felt was most important:

• put chicken in freezer
• get oil change
• laundry
• hotel room
• fruit
• put in new headlight
• lunch duty at school
• computer with cord

This was what was written on my list. Really!? I can see putting in a new headlight, but everything else definitely could have waited until morning. I went back to bed and fell right to sleep, only to wake to my 5:45 am alarm an instant later. After pressing snooze literally six times I must have finally turned it off...thinking I would get up. However, in my sleep deprived state, I fell fast asleep only to wake up an HOUR later after dreaming that my alarm was going off (even though it didn't).

No need to go into the doldrums of my busy day, but we ended up leaving at 3:45, an hour and a half later than I planned. It was a long five hours, but the setting sun enhanced the fall scenery all around us. From the golden aspens and the rocky peaks of Snoqualmie Pass, to the violet and rose background to the Columbia River Gorge, I appreciated everything I saw. We were amazed at the vast wasteland of charred acres that still smoldered with smoky hot spots from this summers wildfires. Much sooner than I anticipated darkness surrounded us. By seven o'clock, the sky was black and the stars arrived.

It wasn't all poetic. Twice we had to pull over at the most inconvenient places so several kids could use the "restroom". There are stretches of I-90 where all you see is dry brown brushy acreage...for quite sometime, no rest stops, no gas stations. Darkness became our friend at these times.

I answered the question, "How much longer?" twenty-three times, we sang about 99 Bottles of Beer...the whole song, and we repeated the song "Down to the River" seven times...in a row. The best was when Cecelia told me most profoundly, "If God is big...then God is big." So smart, that girl.

The worst was when another child told me, "Um....um.....what if.....if..if, um, the star, the stars, stars...what if the stars...um....what if......what if the stars, um... ...." I gave up at this point. It's not that this kid's a stutterer, he just doesn't think about what he wants to say, and demands everyone's attention as he tries to think of something to say. It is a painful thing to try to hang onto someone's words when they are going nowhere.

Once at the hotel where we plan on staying one night, a serious round of jumping from one bed to the other began. This is only allowed at hotels :)

As for now, I am "the best mom in the world" for letting the four of them (Sam is hunting with his uncle and cousins) eat candy, and jump on beds and watch TV while I type on the 'puter. If that's all it takes....!


Sweet Dreams,

Gina

Taking Charge...Again

In the movie "We Were Soldiers" a character asks Mel Gibson's character "Can you be a soldier and a father?" Gibson's reply was, "I believe that being good at one makes me better at the other."

I think that is starting to happen to me. I'm not a soldier in the military sense, but I am a soldier fighting the moral war that society is waging on children. Today, I put to use a discipline practice that we use at school. When the kids get in trouble they are expected to write an essay containing four major points:

1. What did I do wrong
2. Why should I not do it again
3. What rule did I break or what virtue do I need to work on, and,
4. My apology

I had one particular child who got in trouble today for not doing his work....and then throwing a major fit when he was forced to give up his recess time to complete what should have already been done. Because of the trouble he gave his teacher, I insisted he write her an apology letter that contained these four parts. He had to do this last week and I told his teacher that I wanted to know every incident where his behavior was out of line, so I could reinforce the lessons that are being taught at school.

Of course, this did not sit well with him. He dawdled, fiddle-farted and boondoggled until I informed him that he now had to write a letter to me, as well, for disobeying. That got the water works started! I sat with him and helped him with his letter to his teacher. When his jaw tightened, and his lower lip hung in floppy defiance, I took the few words he had written down and crumpled up the paper. Having been forewarned that if his attitude was bad, he would have to start over, I was forced to follow through with his consequence. Now he knew I was serious. Over time, I believe, my own lack of consistency has led my children to think that they can push me to a point where I give up and eventually ease off the consequence, but I am resolving to persevere from this point forward....again.

His handwriting had to be neat and his attitude had to be good. He got it done without further ado and without my help (but with my prompting) he began the letter to me, which went as follows:

Sorry Mom I bisodabe you and I had a bad adutood. I will work on having a good adutood, love XXXXX.

(Looks like he still needs work on his B's and D's) What this does, is make him think about not only what he did, but what he needs to do differently in the future. When he finished, he gave me a big hug, and was in the best of moods during dinner.

Later, another child was being mean to this child and was made to write him an apology letter; it went as follows:

Dear XXXXX,
I kicked you in the stomach. I won't do it again because it's not being nice. I was disobeying the rule, hands, feet and objects to myself. I am so sorry.
From, XXXXX
 

As you can see, we had a wonderful evening..... Anyway, soon homework was completed and everyone was getting along marvelously.  I am encouraged to persevere in these types of disciplines at home because I have to enforce them at school as well, and because of this, I believe that being a teacher is making me a better mom.  I saw an old teacher of mine at the school the other day and she handed me an article she had printed off from a newspaper clipping. It was about how mothers used to be in control of their children but how, nowadays, the children seem to rule the roost. I think maybe she was trying to tell me something....I'm not sure. I don't want my children to fear me...I just want to be able to give them "the look" and get an immediate shift in behavior.

 I think I'm on my way....however....last night I experienced one of those weird twilight zone moments where a memory of my childhood was reenacted only I was the parent and my children took the place I held long ago. As I was in the girls' room, reading to them on Cecelia's bed, the boys kept sneaking into the room, thinking I didn't see them. This had them thinking that they were the funniest things since sliced bread (when was sliced bread ever funny?). I yelled at them a couple times to "knock it off and get in bed!!" That didn't work. They kept sneaking in and laughing their annoying "I'm doing something naughty hahaha" laugh. After the story was over and the girls were tucked into bed for the night, I went into the boys' room and swatted each one on their behinds. They all began howling like they were about to die. I sat and stared at them thinking, "I know I didn't smack them that hard...why in the world are they crying?" Then, one by one, the fake cries turned into laughter and I sat there with my 'trying-hard-not-to-smile' mouth twitching spontaneously until it gave way to the real thing. Defeat. It tasted bad.

Cheers to life, through trials and triumphs!

Gina.

This is what I wanted to do today....before I took control. 

 

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