I am a happy camper :)

My husband really is the best at getting gifts. Surprise gifts at that. I'd say he's good for the next ten years for this one! I absolutely love it!!!

Merry Christmas!

I did very little this year, at least it seems. I didn't get cards sent out, no cookies baked (but lots of cinnamon rolls instead). And I'm okay with that. We had a lovely Christmas. It all seemed to go by too quickly. And now, minutes from the twelfth day of Christmas, I'm hoping you all had a wonderful Christmas season as well. (I have to admit, the nesting part of me is ready to be packed and finished with Christmas, and settle into waiting for baby!)

We had our first trip to the ER last night. It was after dinner, when my kids are wound up and happy. Somehow DD started running from the kitchen to the living room with Blaise in tow. I don't think he realized Blaise had somehow lost his footing. Blaise fell with some force, and hit his little forehead on the door jam corner. I scooped Blaise up, and when I flipped him over, saw this huge gash on his head, and tissue beneath that's supposed to be covered with skin! Scary! Dan and I instantly knew he needed stitches. We told the kids to get their shoes on. Thankfully, the gash didn't bleed like crazy. But, oh, how my baby kept crying.

We hesitated a moment trying to decide where to go. Urgent care? ER? I thought an urgent care would be just fine, but I came to the realization that Dayton doesn't have a children's urgent care, save for in Springboro...which closes at 8p on Sunday. It was 8:02. I was pretty sure a regular urgent care wouldn't touch him because he was so young. After a quick call to a friend, we decided Children's it was.

The ride there was fine. Blaise had calmed down, although he kept trying to touch his head. He would shake it from side to side and cry 'donk head'.

Dan dropped me off at the ER, then he was going to take the kids home, and have my mom come and stay with them so he could come back with me. I'm not sure how other families do it, but I didn't want to wait the whopping ten minutes for my mom to come over before we left.

I was a bit nervous about being at the hospital. I don't know why my worries centered around us not vaccinating our kiddos! But I honesty rationalized myself out of those worries, and turned them into elements of gratitude. I was grateful for having an understanding pediatrician, and living in a country where we are allowed to make decisions such as these.

Blaise loved the waiting room, and touched every little germy toy in there. He approached every other "baby" (toddlers) he saw, wanting to hug, or shove them, I don't know. Who knows how many germs we came home with- but for the record, he did have many false alarm bathroom breaks, so we washed hands several times.

It probably took an hour total, from when I walked in the door to when they took us back to the exam room. Dan had come by then, and I was so thankful. I knew they would have to restrain him to do the stitches, and I knew that alone would make him wail. But I knew they had to do in, and was okay with it. So they asked Dan to lay him on the little restraint board as I watched them velcro him in. A large male nurse was there to hold Blaise's head immobile. Him and the Physician's assistant (doing the stitches) took their seats, while Dan stood, holding Blaise's hands and talking to him.

They turned on some lovely calming background music and got started. I was sitting in the chair in the corner first, and then would alternate between sitting and standing and talking to Blaise.

Blaise did as expected and cried the moment he left Dan's arms, to the moment he returned to those strong arms: approx 8 min. About a minute into the stitches, I sat in the chair and tears began falling from me as well. I knew these guys were doing what they had to do. I was okay with that. I knew Blaise was 'fine' in a sense that he wasn't in agonizing pain or anything. It's just hearing your baby cry, and knowing you can't do anything to comfort him was very, very difficult. And maybe just being aware of truly how much you love a child- well, it just made me cry.

Until I remembered that Dan doesn't do so well with blood. I got up and asked if he was okay. He nodded, although he kept turning his head when the needle would go into Blaise. I asked again, and then realized that Dan wanted to be right where he was, so I just kept talking to Blaise.

I think it was a little funny how they staff chit chat with you a little. At one point the nurse, after seeing me sitting, crying looked over and asked if I was okay. I nodded. Then a little later, after we were both talking to, and soothing Blaise, he asked if this was our first time here. We admitted it was. Yep, you could tell. We were both so shaken up by our baby needing ten stitches. Later Dan reflected, 'How were we supposed to act?' that would've made it look like we've done this before. I find it hard to believe I wouldn't have cried...no matter how old my child, no matter how 'simple' the procedure. We both felt reassured by each other that we did exactly what we were supposed to. We definitely weren't interfering with their work by our attempts to comfort Blaise.

Afterward, Dan was fairly pale. He sat down, but refused a drink offered by this kind, and concerned nurse. After they left, I joked that he really was a bit pale. He said he knew how he felt, and he was not going to faint. He mentioned that it really wasn't the blood that made him feel that way, because there really was very little blood. He said it was more...empathy. (Dan's had pretty serious stitches in the past). "I mean, I know how that feels...and...." his voice kinda trailed off, and I filled it in with "...and he's our baby." He nodded as I sat there holding our sleeping kiddo.

When we got home, Blaise was still asleep so we laid him in our bed. He did fine for about an hour, but then woke up restless and in pain. "Donk head!" he'd say through tears. We gave him some remedy, but that and being in our bed was not getting him to sleep so we gave him some Tylenol.

That did the trick. he's still snoozing, which I think is where I'm headed next.

I've been thinking a lot about this post, and am so grateful for having read it. I need to read it often, and the comments that follow.

I feel like I'm one of those parents, that have a lot of fear. I grew up in a less-than-perfect family, and had such a simple perception of what a family should be. I thought everyone else's family was 'perfect'. I'm not talking about getting lots of presents on your birthday, or taking that family trip to Disneyworld. In the light of faith, I felt that there were other families that were doing it 'right', didn't have all the struggles our family had, and, well, that made them perfect.

As if there were a formula for raising a good family.

No, there's no formula. I believe there are good components, good things to do, good things that must, and should be a part of a good family. But as the article basically pointed out- no guarantees.

Bummer.

I really like guarantees. I really like formulas. I really like science, and math. They're so....predictable. Reliable.

Ah, not so with human beings, especially ones created by God, with a free will.

I am no where near the stage of motherhood as the mom in the article. Although, by the grace of being a mother, I have a glimpse of some of the things that us moms go through, as far as guilt, and responsibility, and complete and utter love for these children God has given us. I also feel those fears- fears of how my family was raised, and how many have turned away from the faith, fear that I may some day encounter that same thing with my own children, and a determined drive to all and all prevent that in any way shape or form from that happening to my children.

But that determination sometimes puts too much trust on those externals: homeschooling, limited exposure to social dangers, virtue clubs, more virtue clubs. Check them all off, cus more is better, and we have to work our hardest at making sure these souls are not lost. Well, it's not that any of these things are bad at all, but my trust in them being the end-all-be-all is sorely misguided. It can only be through a solid foundation of trust in God, in His plan- that He has a plan for each and every one of us- myself as a mother, the very children He gave specifically to us, and a plan for each and every one of my children.

Sigh.

Then comes by biggest fear.

My fear that I won't have that 'perfect' life.

Okay, sounds a bit nutty, but secretly, I think of St. Monica sometimes, and think- sheesh! She just had a horrible husband and messed-up son, and just spent her whole life in prayer and sacrifice for them. And her husband converted, but it took his whole life! I hesitate to write 'what a waste', because deep down, I know it was every bit not a waste. God gives us so, so many opportunities for his grace, not one sacrifice we make will go unnoticed by Him.

But that's just it. I'm so stubborn. And selfish. I shudder at the thought of a St. Monica life. No! I just want a nice happy family, and good, faithful children, and a long happy marriage, and a little piece of land to carry out my vocation. Not really the typical 'American dream', but very much the American stubbornness and selfishness that says: this is what I want, and I'll have it no matter what.

This year has been a pretty rough one for me, looking back. I think a lot of it, though, has to do with me, and my reluctance to trust God with my life, and accept everything He sends as for my good. I know in my heart of hearts that suffering in this life is so misunderstood, yet I feel like one of those people crying out to God, 'why me?' When I read articles like this, I am so humbly reminded that it is so not about me, or my life, or what I want or expect to get out of this life. It's not about checklists to do the 'right' thing, in hopes of a 'perfect' outcome. It's not about earthly happiness. It's about learning to live in God's love, and trust, to share that love, and show that love every single day of your life, no matter what He sends your way. To let that love transform your life, and flow over to those he has placed in your care. To accept His love every day, through joys or suffering, and allow His grace to work in you. For me, the article was powerful, but it was also so good to read all the comments, of wayward children that returned to Christ. In those, you hear the stories of the sufferings the mothers endured, and how those sufferings transformed those women to chose to carry their cross with God's grace. Sigh. That is what I fear. That is what I resist.

Faith. Hope. Trust. Grace. That is what I need.

P.S. As said, I'm no where near the stage of motherhood as in the article. My oldest is only eight, and I'm a controlling, homeschool mom. :) My oldest made First Confession and Holy Communion this year. For me, there was a distinct feeling of letting go. A clear realization that she is taking the steps in her faith formation to have a relationship with Christ all her own. I relish that she sometimes asks to pray with me. But today, when she went in the confessional on her own, that realization was there again: that she was created by God, for God, and is only on loan to us. She is going somewhere I cannot follow, and this is how it should be. She is forming her own relationship with Christ. I pray she never, never loses it.

I'm going to lose sleep, and skip making a much-needed grocery list to write tonight. Today is All Soul's day. I'm felt very close to Dad today. We made it to Mass early this morning, and then went to the cemetery afterward. It was nice. Yes, nice. I love being up and about early in the morning. The sun rising, and shining so bright in the blue sky. Perfect compliment to the crisp, cool air and damp dew still on the grass at the cemetery. We didn't stay too long. We had flowers to put on the grave, and we said some prayers there. This is what Dad did so many years of our life. We would go to a cemetery after school, and pray for the dead. We would drive to North Star once my dad learned he had a relative buried up there. leaving around 4p, getting there near 5, sun setting, very chilly. We'd pray one cold decade of the rosary, and finish the rest in the car on the way home. It's so much nicer visiting a cemetery in the morning of this second day of Nov.

Of course, we couldn't leave the cemetery without visiting the infants. We found the ones we knew and asked for their prayers for us.

So what a nice thing Dad instilled in us. You visit a cemetery on All Soul's day. You bury the dead, and continue to pray for them. Not only is it such a comfort that the whole Church is recognizing a day to do this, it is such a neat thing that my dad gets to benefit from his example, by having his children and grandchildren come to his grave and do exactly as he taught us. That brings me great comfort.

Strange how I've been thinking of this day for quite some time. Setting it aside in my head and planning how I was going to commemorate it. In a way, it's almost as special to me as the anniversary of his death would be, just because he held in such high esteem.

After a terrible week last week, I'm so happy to be feeling like myself again. I had a very wicked head cold, combined with the usual grief issues, and then what I believe was a serious surge of pregnancy hormones. Sheesh! What a concoction! Things cleared up on Friday, and I just remember waking up feeling like a totally different person- in a good way. Feeling like myself again. I remember pregnancy hormones doing that to me before. I just wish there were some way I could see around that when I'm in the midst of it! Very hard for me.

Anyway, feeling better led to a very, very busy weekend of furious sewing. Soldier costumes for my boys for the All Saint's day party at Church, and then a lovely Rapunzel costume for my dear Rose on Monday. All done with a poor teething baby who would not sleep well at all. Isn't it always that way for me? Somehow, whenever the babe is teething, I'm supposed to stay up all night and finish some colossal project.

Well, we made it through, and, in fact, made it through quite well. I felt so good about the All Saint's party. It really was fun, and we had a lot of help, and I just love seeing all the kids dressed as different saints. For the record, my boys were St. Martin of Tours(Sam) and St. Florian (Dominic)- both Roman soldiers from the third century. Rose was St. Faustina. Next day for Halloween, my boys couldn't just wear the lovely soldier costumes that I slaved over. Instead Sam wore the famous tin man costume and looked great. Dominic decided he wanted to be a cowboy. Between a had of Dan's, some 'cowboy' boots of mine, a denim jacket of Rose's and leather gloves and rope, he was the coolest cowboy I've ever seen. With a hint of Indiana Jones. Rose insisted I make the renascence princess dress to be Rapunzel. It turned out lovely in the three hours it took to make it...starting at 3p on Monday, thanks to a baby that wouldn't nap (among other things). Her hair turned out great.

Exhausting as it all was, I really enjoyed seeing the kids all have such a good time. Along with that joy was a bit of relief, as if a bit of a burden had been lifted. Or a 'chore' checked off my list. I hate to look at it that way, but with things being so busy lately, and my mood and energy being so mysterious, I was really glad to accomplish some things for my family that I see as things I should be doing.

Pictures to come.

Deep breath in. And I exhale. I think things are going to be alright. I think they are getting better, in many ways.

I went to what I predict to be my last visit to the counselor at Hospice. It's been over a month since I've been there. And what a month it's been. I was really looking forward to going again. This visit was different. A little more...upbeat. Insightful. Calm. So I don't know why I was a little surprised at the end, when I was told I didn't really need to make another appointment, unless I really wanted to. Trust has been a big part of going to these appointments. This counselor's assessment of things, and confidence in the way she presented things led to my trust in her. Although part of me doubted some of the things she said, I kept telling myself to trust her. So, too, in this, I trust her. I feel like I'm finally 'getting it'. All the things she's been explaining to me about the grief and emotions I've been going through. It's looking a little clearer. I'm ready to let go of a lot of past hurts, and make my future, my life as good as it can be. I'm ready to accept grief as it comes, and let it come. I think things are going to be alright.

A relaxing, memorable weekend at Kelley's Island helped tremendously in taking my mind off of things. I honestly did not think of the kitchen once. Not once. Although I was a bit disappointed I couldn't bring the microwave like I wanted. :)

The kitchen is coming along nicely. Last week had too many blips from real life get in the way of doing the kitchen, which kind of annoyed me. So this week we try again. Dan has the grout on half of the tiles (including where the stove goes!). I couldn't be happier. It looks so good. He is so wonderful.

Physically, I'm feeling better. Not so tired. And I am sooo thankful for blogs. This one has been lingering in my mind a lot lately...especially number three. Thankful for my usual E. Foss blogs, on the other end of the baby spectrum, reminding me that this time really is so short. These thoughts have greatly helped me grasp this whole pregnancy thing.

Then, in addition to all the grieving emotions, and hormone emotions, there's the guilt. I remember feeling this a bit with the last one. I was a bit overcome with worry about the future, and it clouded my joy. I felt guilty. Of all I know of pregnancy and motherhood, I should be elated to be pregnant right? Another soul to give glory to God! God's miraculous creative power working inside of me! Ah, but alas, I am human. And it saddens me that with this pregnancy, too, it was met with worry, and grief, and sorrow, and maybe even a tad of anger- definitely stemming from selfishness. Okay, in all reality, I just laughed. Literally laughed when I saw the pregnancy test results. I was in utter disbelief. I really thought I just had a UTI. Ha!

But as those feelings gradually fade (thank God!!!), they are replaced with thoughts of trusting in God. It's something I struggle with, and I really feel like He's calling me to this. After all, I feel like this child is totally His doing. Okay, I know not totally, but really, it's His timing. His doing, I tell ya. I really would not have chosen this...right now. But in a small way, it is almost exciting to think of it that way. That despite all else going on, God trusts us enough, at this time, at this moment, to bring forth another life. I feel that so strongly, and I don't want to let Him down. It's giving me courage and strength to go on and make things work out. Yes, I think things are going to be alright.

Next morning:

So with this next day, during my prayers, I realize what is different. I am at peace. I finally feel like I have some peace over my dad's passing. I feel more at peace with my vocation in life, and the current state of things in my life, and the future, come what may. It is a confident peace, not one that fears it is only here temporarily. It a peace that comes from trusting God, and those he put in my life to help me get through this life. I think so often I feel like I'm in this all alone. What a burden that feels like. I wake up refreshed, with no burden. Just today, and whatever it holds. It's trust, that brings this peace, and it is such a wonderful feeling.

August Already Daybook

Outside My Window::

::dark. Not so hot.

I am Listening to::

::Cole Porter

I am wearing ::

:: deep royal blue tee, same color cotton shorts. Comfy.

I am Thankful For::

::

~a working washing machine.

~finally getting to visit a dear friend and her new bundle of joy.

~a really hard-working husband.

~a husband who isn't afraid to put this outspoken, free-wielding woman "in her place". Okay, in nicer terms, I'm thankful my husband and I have a mutual respect for each other, and on certain things, when push comes to shove, he is the head of this house, and I recognize that, and am SO thankful for that dynamic.

I am Pondering::

::what to do tomorrow. I want to scrap every responsibility in life and just finish this kitchen. Not really possible.

I am Reading::

::10 Habits of Happy Moms. This is one of those life-changing books, where I'm actually struggling to get through some of it. It's really reaching me at many levels, and I don't know that I'm doing so well with that.

One Thousand Gifts.

A Mother's Rule of Life. This is great, but requires a lot of 'homework'. I'm a little behind on that, so it's got me a little reluctant to pick it up!

From the Kitchen::

::Still making dinners most nights, which I am very proud of. Sauteed fish tonight. Fresh beets, cucumber salad. And FABULOUS muffins with everything in them. From a friend's kitchen. Thanks Maryann!!

I am Thinking::

::I was thinking of a lot of posts I wanted to write. I've been thinking about the things in the 10 Habits. I mull on that stuff a bit. Maybe just where I am in life right now makes me contemplate things a lot.

I am Creating::

::Well, still trying to create that kitchen.

Towards a Real Education::

::Still reading Little House. Plans on doing major school planning Aug. 16.

Towards Rhythm and Beauty::

::Hard to with this kitchen!!! I guess I'm very compartmental and I want to finish one thing before I start another. Never before have I felt like I have so many loose ends in my life, due to lack of rhythm and order! I keep telling myself it will not be this way forever. It will get better. I just have a hard time getting past the kitchen issue, and resolving to find and keep a rhythm for the rest of the house.

To Live the Liturgy::

::Trying to stay afloat. Hoping to NOT miss some great August feast days. Okay, that prompted me to look up the Catholic calendar to find those feasts. Now, and for quite some time, I've wanted to have that Catholic calendar on my Google. My attempt was futile. Anyone know how to do this??? It would help me immensely.

I am Hoping and Praying::

::for some family members.

that a November Anniversary trip gets planned somewhere in all this chaos we call our life.

In the Garden::

::Ha!

Around the House::

::Ha, again! Okay, no more drawers in the living room. Just some overflow tools and kitchen things.

Lots of laundry needing done.

Fruit flies. So many of the blasted things in the kitchen. We're using the kitchen, as a kitchen, while re-doing the kitchen. Makes for one big kitchen mess, of all kinds. Including fruit flies. Ugh.

On Keeping Home::

::

This:

Lodged just so, making me think my washing machine was broken. It was only discovered upon removing the wet clothes in order to wash them elsewhere. And thanks be to God, upon removal, the washer worked once again. (Okay, and what kind of nutty wife am I: before this discovery, Dan's assessment was that the motor was probably fried, and we'd need to think about getting a new one. AND I SAID NO! No to a new, front load washer! Most women would jump at the excuse to get one. No, I'm quite content with this one until it really breaks...I mean unfixably breaks. Crazy wife).

One of My Favorite Things::

::my new cabinet and countertop in the kitchen where there was not one before.

Blaise this week::

::Went potty a few times very successfully!! Yeah!

Imitates everyone. "doing an Irish dance, HEY!" He walks around mumbling, then shouting "HEY!"

A Few Plans for the Rest of the Week::

::A stove in the house by Monday??? Would be Sunday, but we're going to a lovely baptism and party all day. Yeah!

A Picture Thought I'm sharing::