Hearts Can Change

I posted on Friday about how I was given a note telling me to take Anthony to the crying room by someone who was obviously annoyed by him.  The note had me very upset.  So upset that I felt the need to write a letter to our pastor about it and at the urging of Bryan, also to share a picture of the note I received to our parish Facebook page.

On Facebook plenty of people responded in a short amount of time.  Those who knew me were outraged, and several other's were also upset that someone would feel the need to leave such a note rather than just approach me face to face to discuss what she felt was a problem.  There were some good discussions coming out of that post, but ultimately, our pastor asked that it be removed.   By that point my letter to him had already been delivered outlining the issue and asking what he felt the best way to handle the situation would be.

This morning at daily Mass we all got to hear his response to my letter.  He made it abundantly clear that none of us should have a problem with the sounds of children in the church.  He also talked about how leaving notes like the one I received on Friday was not a Christian response.  Posting about the incident on social media was also addressed, since he felt it had the ability to fan the flames of an issue that can cause division.  So clearly the logic behind the post and it's subsequent conversation was revealed.

In all, Father's homily was top notch.  He explained to those present why some parents choose to avoid the crying room, citing that it is a circus room and not a place where parents can teach their child how to behave at Mass.  He addressed that it's not a problem to have a child making sounds during Mass, but how in cases where the child is wailing and unable to be quieted, how it would be prudent to remove the child for a time.  That we have done, and most people we have seen with little ones have done that as well.

I felt one of his best points related to the dropping fertility rate and how as people have chosen to have fewer children, we have created a society that is less accepting of the sounds of children.  He pointed out that these little ones have something to teach us and should not be excluded.  Because our society has become less child friendly, it has essentially gotten many of us to a point where we expect not to be bothered by them or their sounds when out in public.  He made it a point to state that when you attend a public event, such as a Mass, you cannot expect or anticipate that there will not be children or other distractions around you.  He let people know that that quiet some of them expect at Mass can be found in our adoration chapel.  I know that's one place I don't take my little ones unless it's empty, and if other people show up while we are there I always leave so we don't disturb them.

After Mass there was a lot of talk about the homily.   Many of the people there that know me were aware of what happened on Friday so they felt as I did that the homily was very well done.  I do wish the woman who wrote the note had been there this morning, but she wasn't. (I do think she sat in front of us at Sunday Mass.)  Grumpy Cat Lady, however, was there.  Over the past six or seven weeks I've been making it a point to say hello to her, hold doors for her and ask her how she is doing when I see her.  Today as I was walking out of the church with Anthony she came up to us with a big smile on her face to tell me how well behaved she thought he was today.  She even told Anthony he was really good.  So hearts can change.  It was such a welcome exchange and gives me hope that we will win her over in time.  Bryan thinks the homily might have played a big part in her change of tone, and he might be right.

So if you're the mom of the noisy baby at church and someone says something unkind or leaves you a note telling you where you should take that baby, take a deep breath before you respond.  If they don't run off as soon as saying something, tell them why you're not going to be pushed into a crying room or why you'll continue coming to the church.  Maybe you're like me and you have more than one little one.  On days when it's just me, Anthony and Katie, I know if I get up to take Anthony out of the church the noise level will escalate to fever pitch because Katie will then have a total freak out.  So sometimes what looks like the logical choice to an outsider is the lesser of two evils.  If, as in my situation, the person does an attack and run approach, write a letter to your pastor or approach him about it and let him know what happened and how you feel such a message can become a problem not just for you, but for other families as well.  If you have priests who are not shy about welcoming children at Mass they may just be your biggest ally in getting the rest of the parish community to accept the little ones.

Response to the Well Intentioned Lady at Mass

Hi,
I don't think we've ever been properly introduced, but I see you around at Mass frequently enough.  My name is Karen and the toddler I often have at my side at daily Mass is Anthony.  He'll be two in May.

My son really enjoys coming to Mass with me.  Our church is really like a second home to him, he's that comfortable there!  You see, he's grown up in this church.  From the time he was six days old he's been at Mass nearly every day of his life.  Typically I don't go to daily Mass on Saturday mornings since it's the only day of the week I ever get to sleep past 6:15am.  But on weekdays you can find me, Anthony, and depending on the day any one of my three older daughters at the 8am Mass.

I want you to know that I'm very touched that so many of the people at daily Mass are so happy to have us around.  People, who I worry I am bothering by bringing my son to Mass with me, come up to me before or after Mass all the time to tell me how happy they are to see and hear him each day and how he reminds them of their grandchildren or great-grandchildren.  Did you know that the people who sit in the front of the left hand side of the church talk among themselves when they hear Anthony come in and start making sounds?  Apparently they refer to him as "our baby."  I didn't know that until recently.  They've been referring to him as their baby since he was very small, I'm told.  I actually think it's really sweet that they think of him that way.

One of the things I love about the people we attend daily Mass with is how loving and kind they are.  I hope you've experienced some of the kindness and love that Anthony and I have.  You, me and Anthony are all so blessed to have such great people who come together and pray with us at Mass each day.  Don't you think?

I want you to know that I'm not oblivious to the sounds my children, especially the baby, make at Mass.  Probably more than anyone else in the church, I, the one right next to the baby, cringe when he starts to make noise.  If it's happy sounds or him singing I try to relax and not worry about it.  His godfather likes to point out that Anthony is crying out to God his Father when he starts making noise at Mass.  I suppose he's right.  With only a few words in his vocabulary, I suppose he prays the only way he knows how.  I can tell you that he knows how to make the sign of the cross.  Have you ever noticed how cute a toddler is when he does that?  Anyway, I digress.  I know the noise can sometimes be unpleasant.  But that is life.  Life isn't always neat and tidy or quiet.  When each of us comes to Mass we don't cease to live life for that half hour or hour that we are in the church.  Those of us with years of practice and self control will obviously have a better handle on keeping still and quiet, but little ones have a hard time acting like adults, because that's not the nature of a small child.

I know you are bothered by the noise my son makes.  I'm sorry for that, but I'd like to point out to you that none of us are perfect.  Not me, not my son, not you, or even the priest who's offering Mass that day.  I'm sure that each one of us does something that annoys someone else, and I bet a lot of us bother people at Mass, but you probably are unaware of it if you do because most people will recognize that the person who is doing something that annoys you is a beloved child of God, and that person has every right to be there worshipping God as just as you do.

You asked me to take my child to the crying room, which makes me think you are annoyed by the presence of a little child at Mass.  I am sorry his sounds bother you, I really am.  But let me tell you why I'm going to continue sitting right where I always sit at daily Mass.  That spot, where we sit, right under the station of the cross that says "Jesus dies for us", reminds me day after day that I am broken and in need of a savior.  But there's more.  I sit where I do because should my son begin to make an excessive amount of noise, I can easily walk to the rear of the church and either stand outside the glass doors until he's calm or just stand next to the holy water inside the church and he's happy.  I don't often leave the pew because I'm teaching my son that when we go to Mass we stay in our seat.  We don't get up and walk around and take breaks.  Raising little ones and teaching them how to behave is a tedious process that takes years.  I don't know you, so I don't know if you ever had little ones or not.  If you do have children then I suspect you know what a difficult, yet important job I have in guiding my child to become a good Catholic man someday.   But I'd like to ask you if you've ever been to the crying room.  Have you felt how icy cold the room is during the winter months and have you felt how swelteringly hot it is during the summer?  It's not an inviting space.  Also, did you know during the week that the crying room is empty?  Going to daily Mass and sitting all alone in a cold room looking through hazy glass to see Mass going on down below is a great way to feel like you're not part of congregation, but rather a spectator.  My family and I sit in the pews because we're raising our children, who are members of the church by virtue of their baptism every bit as much as you or I,  to learn how to worship and adore their God at Mass.  We've done the crying room with our eldest daughter and it was a disaster.  The crying room is more like the circus room.  There's no reverence and people act like they aren't even at Mass.  It is not a place to teach your children how to behave at Mass.

Now maybe I'm reading something into your note.  Perhaps you assumed that I didn't know there was a crying room and you've taken some inspiration from the banners listing the works of mercy behind the altar and decided that it would be a mercy for you to instruct the ignorant and inform me that our parish is equipped with one.  Might I suggest in instances where you find yourself annoyed by my child or anyone else at Mass that you opt instead to bear wrongs patiently?  Offer the annoyance up to Our Lord.  Tell Him that you can't stand the sounds of the little baby that He loves and made in His image and likeness.  Talk to Him and then listen to see what He says.  I'm sorry, but I believe Our Lord is just as happy to see my baby in the church even on his most obnoxious screaming day, as He is to see you there when you are having a good day, a bad day, a day when you're just going through the motions, or even a day when you're angry with Him and can't understand why He placed whatever cross you're struggling with at that moment in your midst.  He loves each of us in spite of ourselves.

If I misjudged the nature of your note, I'm sorry.  I have a difficult time believing it was written with a charitable spirit, especially considering you dropped it at the place where we were sitting on your way back from communion as you left the church.  And considering you didn't sign your name to it, I can't help but feel it was a bit passive aggressive.  If you were that upset by the baby's sounds you could have stayed until the end of Mass and approached me to discuss it.  I want you to know that you hurt my feelings and made me to feel like I was unwelcome.  You are not the first person in recent memory to do this.  But like her, I will treat you with kindness and I forgive you for hurting me.  It may take me a bit of time to get over it, but I will.  Just know that in the meantime I'll be praying for you.  I pray that God will soften your heart.  Perhaps you have some circumstance in your life that makes hearing the sounds of a baby happily singing bother you.  I am sorry if the joyful noise of one of God's little ones upsets you, but I urge you to take it to Our Lord.

Going forward, please bear in mind that your actions and words, whether spoken or written, have the ability to hurt those around you.  Your note, which thankfully I did not read until after Mass was over and after I had prayed for you, upset me so much that I left the church in tears.  Those who encountered me on the way out were upset that anyone would do what you chose to do.  Had you given me this note on a day when Anthony was exceptionally loud, I likely would not have been as upset as I was in receiving it today.  I would like to point out to you that Anthony made no noise until the offertory.  It wasn't until Fr. Pete called him out for not making the noises that he loves to hear, that Anthony made any noise.  Prior to that my son was happily munching on Cheerios, which I bring to keep him quiet, and scribbling on a piece of paper.

So again, I'm sorry that the sounds of my child disturbed you.  I suspect that you might be less bothered by his sounds and antics if you perhaps sat on the other side of the church where it appears to be quieter.  We won't be offended if you choose to sit further away from us at Mass, just know that I plan to continue sitting in the same place, give or take a pew, for the foreseeable future.  Somedays will be louder than others, I'm sure, but as always I will do my best to keep my child as quiet as I can.  Unfortunately that free will that Our Lord endows each of us with kicks in at birth, so as much as I, too, would love to go to a Mass that is so quiet you can hear a pin drop, even I can't stop the baby from making noise.  Know that I am right there with you in disliking noise during Mass, but when I hear a baby crying or a child loudly talking, instead of grabbing a pencil and paper to tell the mom where to go, I offer up a prayer for the child and the parent with him.  It's rough being the parent of the kid who makes noise.  People will turn and glare at you and occasionally someone will snap on your child inches from his face or leave a note that is the equivalent of saying: "Dear Mother, Your child is annoying and not welcome to sit with the rest of us.  Please either go to the crying room or don't come here."  It's not a fun place to be, but it's life.  Can you just imagine if someone were to snap on the lady who reeks of perfume and tell her she should go sit outside so she doesn't bother people who can't handle the way she smells?  How awful and tactless that would be!  Or what if the man who says all the prayers too fast or too slow, or the woman who is singing her heart out to God and hitting every wrong note along the way were told they should go sit somewhere else if they can't say the responses with perfect timing or sing perfectly.  That wouldn't be a Christian response at all and I imagine it would really hurt the person who was on the receiving end of such comments.

Finally, let me tell you why your note struck such a chord with me.  It not so much because you hurt my feelings, which you certainly did, but it's because I worry that you have done or will do this to another parent.  This is the sort of thing that may make a family decide that it's just not worth going to Mass anymore, or at least not while their child is still very young.  Would you really want to be the catalyst that drives someone from the Church and perhaps places their soul and the souls of their children in peril?  I wouldn't want that on my conscience at all.  People will remember when they've been offended or treated unkindly so ask yourself before you act if what you are doing is being done out of your own selfish desires or out of a spirit of charity.

Kind Regards,
Karen

It's More Than Just How You Respond

Last Friday was New Years day, but, more importantly, it was the solemnity celebrating Mary, Mother of God.  I always love celebrating Marian feast days, and this day was no different.  My eldest daughters were both scheduled to altar serve the morning Mass so the Mass we were attending was already chosen for us.  Katie, still had a fever from a recurring ear and sinus infection so she stayed home with Bryan while I took Anthony and the older girls.  I assumed I'd have a few of my normal struggles with Anthony climbing in, on and under the pews and making some noise, but I figured if I can wrangle him by myself at daily Mass most weekdays that I'd be just fine with him for what would be an hour Mass.

Anthony is not shy at Mass.  This kid will happily babble, sing, wave hello, and even participate at Mass when he can.  But, he's still a toddler, so sometimes he cries and sometimes he just makes small little noises that many people seem to enjoy.  He has quite the following of people from daily Mass who simply adore him and all the chaos that he brings with him.  But despite him having so many fans, I still make sure I'm prepared with a sippy cup, bag of cheerios, a couple of pacifiers, and a Thomas train whenever I go to Mass to keep him occupied and as quiet and still as possible.  I'm very conscience of the noises he makes and I do everything I can to make sure he's not a major disruption.  Some days are good and people hardly realize he's there and other days are not so good and I hope that the noise sitting next to or climbing all over me isn't as loud as I think it is.  Sometimes, those are the days when Anthony gets called out during a homily or at the end of Mass.  Those shout outs used to totally mortify me, but when they happen at what feels like 50% of the Masses we attend, I've gotten used to it, but there are still times (this past Christmas Eve comes to mind) where I want to pretend I have no idea who Father is talking about, but that's hard to do when you're holding said noisy baby.

We belong to an awesome parish where most people who approach me about my kids and their antics have very nice and encouraging things to say.  And some of the ones who do come up to comment on the noise do it in such a lighthearted way that I'm never upset about it.  I am aware that there are a few people at daily Mass who are less than thrilled about some of Anthony's noises, but aside from a glance or a sharp look when he's particularly vocal, they've never felt the need to approach me about it.

This past Friday, however, was different.  I always sit in the same pew for Sunday Mass and holy days of obligation.  So when we got to the church, the girls went to the sacristy to get ready to altar serve and Anthony and I went and sat in our usual spot.  The spot that had the lady my kids call Grumpy Cat Lady, because she looks like Grumpy Cat from those memes, sitting in the pew right in front of where we sit.  Several months ago Bryan pointed out to me that this particular woman has a habit of moving from her pew to another pew across the church anytime Anthony is behind her.  The first several times she did it, I never noticed.  I would see her in the pew, kneel down to pray and when I was finished the pew would either be empty or someone different would be sitting there.  I always assumed that she was there from a prior Mass and had just left after she finished praying.  Then there was the day when I finished praying and Bryan, looking annoyed, leaned over and told me that she moved again and told the woman next to her that Anthony was a screamer.  At that particular Mass, Anthony didn't make a single sound.  She turned and looked at us when we slipped into the pew and was visibly annoyed, so I wondered if she was going to move away from us.  While I prayed before Mass, Anthony walked along the kneeler and the backs of my legs and quietly hummed what sounded like the Alleluia.  It was a sweet happy little sound that was fairly quiet for him.  He wedged himself between me and the back of the pew ahead of me while I was still kneeling and that's when I heard a growling "Shhhh!" which snapped me out of praying and caused me to look up.  It was followed by a grumbling "Be quiet!" right in Anthony's face.   My first thought was that she wasn't serious since he wasn't loud and he wasn't crying.  She turned back, obviously annoyed and in a huff.  Within a minute she had decided to pick up and move across the church and up a couple of pews.

Her actions just left me washed in emotions.  I was hurt that she felt the need to so angrily snap at the baby.  And then I started to feel very annoyed that she even thought that it was ok to do it which made me start to wonder how many people she's done this to before.   Were we the only ones or have other families had her snap at their children or been made to feel unwelcome by her practice of getting up and moving away from them in a very obvious manner.  Then I started to think about how I would have felt and reacted if this had happened when Madeline or Ellie were his age.  I likely would have left the church right away horribly embarrassed and would have thought twice about going back for a long time if at all.  I know it would have made me cry.

I know that not everyone has to like the sounds of children at Mass, but how you respond to those things that annoy or distract you at Mass affects those around you.  Based on people coming up to me after the Mass and making overly kind comments about Anthony, I suspect her growling at the baby and subsequent relocation was noticed by those around me.  I don't have the answer for the right way to approach the parent of a noisy child, because I also don't know how to tell the gossiping old ladies who chatter before and sometimes during Mass to zip it because they're bothering me.  I also don't know how to tell the people who come to Mass doused in a bottle of smelly perfume that makes me feel sick to my stomach to lay off the scent.  And, I also have no idea how to tell the people who either say the responses too fast, too slow or incorrectly to get with the program and say them right and on time.  Do you know why I don't know the answers to those situations?  It's because there are no tactful ways to tell someone that you find their presence at Holy Mass annoying.  Responding rudely to someone at Mass may just be the thing that sends them out the door never to return.  If you make it clear to someone that their presence at Mass is annoying and unwelcome they make take your hint and not come back.  Would you want that on your conscience?  I know I wouldn't.

Now I don't know why this woman is so grouchy about kids.  Maybe she never had any or she just doesn't like children at all.  Maybe seeing or hearing little kids reminds her that she has grandchildren that she never sees.  A lot of people come up and tell me about their grandchildren that they never see or that parents never go to Mass and how they wish they would take them.  So maybe she has a personal issue and Anthony strikes a nerve that hits a little too close to home.  But we all have crosses to bear and lashing out at someone because their presence makes your cross a bit more difficult to carry in that moment isn't going to make anything better.  I know for me personally there are times when I am sharply reminded of one of my crosses, but I can't take it out on someone else just because it upsets me.  In those moments, I bring it to Our Lord and let him know why I'm upset, but I don't move away from what's upsetting me because I believe that it was placed before me for the benefit of helping me to grow in holiness.

So ultimately what I'm trying to say here is this:  If you have a problem with the presence of a noisy baby, before confronting the parent or the baby about it stop and take a few moments to bring it to Our Lord.  Tell Him that the annoying child that He created is getting on your last nerve.  Tell Him why you find that child of God so repugnant and then take a few moments to see what He has to say.  Then take a few moments and ask yourself if you might just be overreacting.  Maybe you're justified in saying something, maybe you're not.  Perhaps, this moment is a test.  You could perhaps see it as a moment to bear a wrong patiently.  Chances are the baby isn't doing it to annoy you, he's just doing it because he's little and he's testing out his God-given free will probably much to his parents' dismay.  It's even possible that that mother sitting all by herself with an energetic toddler who treats the church like it's his second home is incredibly self conscious about every single sound her child is making, even the ones you don't hear.  Mass with little ones can be very exhausting.  It's an hour packed with trying to contain a little one who wants to run, climb, crawl, yell, sing and explore a very curious building filled with many new faces.  It's enough to leave you feeling like you need a nap afterwards.  While lashing out at the parent or baby might make you feel vindicated or triumphant, I can assure you that it will be remembered by the parent long past when you've forgotten what you've said.

The Dreaded Crying Room

About eight and a half years ago we began to learn the not so pleasant reality of the crying room.  For about three and a half years I pretty much avoided Mass not wanting my young child to disturb others at Mass if she should cry or act as young children often do.  So as we prepared to welcome a second child into our family we also attempted to get back into the routine of going to Sunday Mass.  The attempt wound up being a fail of the crash and burn variety which I largely attribute to our decision to use the dreaded crying room.  Still not wanting my eldest child to be the cause of annoyance to anyone at Mass we opted to sit in the crying room at our church.  The concept of the crying room was nice, but the reality wasn't.

In theory, the crying room should be a place where I could retreat with an upset child where her noise making would not garner death stares from those around us.  It was the prospect of those icy stares that sent us to the crying room.  We learned quickly that the crying room wasn't an environment for reverence.  The Sunday Mass missalettes were absent from the crying room so following along with the readings or singing with the rest of the congregation wasn't going to happen.  Instead of pews, the crying room was furnished with metal folding chairs.  And instead of a prayerful environment, we found a zoo like atmosphere where children ran wild, munched on snacks and played with toys.  Our efforts to attend Mass on a weekly basis quickly fizzled.  We felt like our options were: 1.) Hang out in the parish wild child exhibit for an hour each week. 2.) Sit in the nave and be subjected to icy stares anytime our children made noise. 3.) Just stay home.  We wound up choosing option 3.  Awful, right?

When we moved and started going to our current parish I told my husband that I had no intentions of ever setting foot in a crying room again.  I would rather stand outside while I waited for my child to calm down rather than entertain the idea of a crying room.  Of course, at the time when I made this decision my youngest was three years old.  By then, she was pretty good at behaving quietly and I think I only ever had to bring her out to the narthex twice.

Even on Ellie's bad days, she was still behaved enough to remain in the nave of the church without disturbing anyone.  There were days where I would cringe anytime she made a sound or acted like a child at Mass.  I was so worried that we'd be an irritant to those around us.  Instead, we found ourselves in a parish that seemed incredibly welcoming to young families.  Warm smiles and words of encouragement is what we were met with on those tough days and I have to tell you that it really meant a lot to me.

Can I tell you that my biggest worry when I was expecting Katie was how I was going to be able to bring her to Mass and avoid the crying room?  I wondered if those friendly people who were so encouraging of our middle daughter a few years before would tolerate a baby or a toddler sitting in their midst.  I spent many hours wondering just how I was going to pull this off.

Much to my surprise, the first year of Mass with a baby went amazingly well.  Most of the time Katie slept through Mass.  We did have plenty of times where the baby would cry, but usually we were able to quiet her within a minute or so.  I want to say that she was probably 8 or 9 months old the first time we actually had to take her out to the narthex due to crying.  The lovely elderly woman who sits behind us most weeks was always so encouraging on our more difficult weeks.  And when Katie did have a bad day at Mass, most of the time we had friends around us offering us a kind smile or a sympathetic glance.

Now that Katie is a toddler things have been a bit trickier.  She rarely sleeps through Mass and she's interested in getting into things.  So there are weeks where I feel like I need to apologize to the person in front of us because my child thought it would be funny to toss a pacifier at her, or because she decided to scream in close proximity to them.  Thankfully, Katie is pretty well behaved for the most part.  She does have her moments where she reveals that she is, in fact, a toddler but fortunately those moments are few and far between.  Sometimes, those toddler moments are timed so perfectly that they wind up becoming part of the homily, like this past Saturday for instance.   Katie decided to let out an ear piercing screech that left me cringing during Father's homily.  Her timing was so good that Father went with it and mentioned that it was an excellent opportunity for patience.  Another time, one of our other priests was able to comment that her crying and his annoyance at it made him realize that he had no room to say anything about it when he began to read the gospel for that Mass.  So it was yet another time that she worked her way into the homily.  So in those moments when she finds her way into a homily, I do internally cringe a bit, but I have come to a point where I accept that she's one and she's not going to behave like a mini adult.

Now just because I refuse to use the crying room doesn't mean that I'm being selfish or refusing to consider those around me.  I'm not about to sit in the church and just let her wail for an hour.  For a Sunday Mass both Bryan and I are fully prepared to remove her to the narthex of the church if we are not able to clam her within a minute.  For daily Mass, I sit near the back of the church on the outside aisle.  I do this so I can remove her to the narthex as quickly as possible if the need should arise.  I'd have to say that daily Mass is probably the only time I'd ever consider retreating upstairs to the crying room.  And that's only because I know that it's empty.  I haven't had to remove her from a daily Mass yet, but if I did, I'd probably be more inclined to just stand in the narthex.

I think that crying rooms would be less of a hot button issue if they were only used for children who were crying or in the midst of a melt down.  Instead, they seem to be hotbeds of chaos where parents let their kids run wild.  Of course, it's not just parents of young children who use the crying room.  I once had a 7th grade religious ed student tell me that her mom preferred to sit up in the crying room so that she could chat with her friend during Mass.  The biggest issue with crying rooms is they seem to be devoid of all reverence.

When I think about the concept of the crying room it does make me think that in a way the church is saying that little ones aren't necessarily welcome at Mass.  True they're not obligated to attend until they reach the age of reason, but they're still a part of the parish community and should be included.  I'm convinced that you cannot train little ones to behave properly at Mass by brining them to the crying room week after week.

Check out the link-up at Catholic All Year where other moms share their thoughts on the crying room, too.

Magnetic Chore Chart

Getting my older girls to do their chores is something that is no small feat.  I've tried incentives, check lists, daily schedules and lots of other things and nothing seems to work.  It's a major source of frustration for me.  I'm the sort of person who likes everything to be organized, so it bothers me when I see messes and disarray all over the place.

Over the past couple of months it's become evident that a new approach was needed.  Bryan and I have discussed the need to figure out what will work.  Essentially we needed something that is bright and attractive that screams "Pay attention to me!" in a fun and upbeat way.   Recently I was told that I needed to figure out what makes our girls tick and then leverage that to get them to do what they're supposed to do.  Consequences don't seem to phase the girls so that obviously doesn't work.  So we have decided that a chore chart that carries some sort of incentive or reward might be worth exploring.  I've seen a few different chore charts that interested me but usually there's only one or two elements that look like they'd work for us.

After a particularly trying week last week I realized that we really have to do something now if we don't want to have a miserable summer of me having to constantly tell my kids what to do and when to do it only to have them sporadically listen.  Do I sound frustrated?  I am.

I came up with the idea of a magnetic chore chart that would live in the kitchen.  I wanted magnets because I don't like the idea of having push pins with a toddler in the house.  So then I had to figure out how to accomplish a durable magnetic chore chart that would allow both girls to move their chores from a to do list to a completed list.  I wanted something visual so that I can take a quick glance and see what still needs to be done.

I decided that my oversized flower punch would be prefect for making cute little chore tags.  I wanted something that looked pretty so I used some pretty scrapbooking papers.  I don't have beautiful handwriting, so I opted to print the chores on clear mailing labels and cut them to fit on the flowers.   I then laminated them (for durability) and put adhesive magnet tape on the backs of the flowers.  I used more scrapbooking paper to create a name tag for each of the girls and tags for the "To do" and "Completed" sides of the chart.  I was torn on how to divide the chart in two.  I'm not a fan of permanently altering things so I decided that attaching grosgrain ribbon to a strip of adhesive magnet tape would do the trick.  I hate fraying ribbon so I added a bit of fray check to the ends of the ribbon to prevent unsightly fraying.  The magnet boards are lightweight enough that I can hang them with command adhesive strips.  Because we want to incorporate an incentive for doing their chores, I made a magnet clip that will hold a monthly reward chart.  The clip is simply a clothes pin painted to coordinate with the pretty papers I used for the chart.  I attached a bit of magnetic tape to the back of the clothespin.

So far the girls are responding well to the new system.  I suspect they'll be a bit more motivated once the reward charts arrive and they know what they can choose from as a reward for doing their chores.

Why I Bring My Toddler to Mass

A few days ago I started noticing several different articles about whether babies and young children belonged at Mass. (Click on these links for some of what I've been reading here, here and here.)  With blog posts and articles of this nature sometimes the comments section becomes something which I feel compelled to read but typically I find myself irritated and enraged within minutes.  There are stories of grumpy people who dislike kids and don't want them ruining their weekly Mass experience, and there are the stories of those mothers who have been treated uncharitably because they dared to bring their child to Mass.  And of course, there's always someone who asks a question like "What do those parents get out of bringing their screaming baby to Mass?"

Let me give you my take on why I bring my toddler to Mass.  But first, let me tell you why I didn't bring my first two children to Mass.  I was once one of those grouchy people who were annoyed at those parents who brought their noisy child to Mass.  I didn't get it.  I was one of those childless know it all people who couldn't fathom why the parents couldn't keep their child [regardless of age] quiet at church or at the restaurant.  Now that I have kids, I get it.  I know that sometimes you just can't reason with an unreasonable child no matter how hard you try.  So now I'm less likely to be annoyed by your noisy child at Mass or when I'm dining out provided that you are actually taking action to settle your chid.  If, however, you're the person who sat next to me at the 2012 Easter Vigil who allowed your toddler to scream and wail for two solid hours while those of us around you tried to calm your child, then I'm not going to cut you any slack and I will continue to wonder why you didn't take that child to the cry room or the narthex so the rest of us could hear Mass.  And I feel I can ask that question because I held my sleeping infant while your child sat right next to me and screamed.  I would feel differently if you had actually attempted to sooth the child or remove her from the church after the first 10 minutes of wailing.

When Madeline and Ellie were very small we attended Mass very infrequently.  So infrequently that there were times when we went an entire year or more between darkening the door of our parish church.  It wasn't because I couldn't be bothered to carve out an hour for Mass each Saturday night or Sunday.  The bottom line was I didn't want to irritate people if my children made noise.  So it was fear of angry stares or uncharitable words that kept our young family from Mass.  When we did attempt to start going to Mass regularly around the time that Ellie was born we sat in the crying room.  The crying room was a zoo.  There's no reverence in the crying room.  It's wild chaos.  In the crying room at our beautiful parish church we had to sit on metal folding chairs .  There were no kneelers, so our four year old wasn't learning how to participate in the Mass.  Instead, she would sit and complain that she couldn't "see the show."  A couple of times we attempted to sit out in the pews, but I would retreat to the crying room as soon as the baby cried.  I was so worried that people would be annoyed with me for bringing my baby to Mass.

By the time Ellie was three we were at a different parish attending Mass every week.  When Ellie would make some noise or start playing with the kneeler, I would cringe.  I fully expected those around me to be irritated by her antics.  Instead, they were welcoming and encouraging.  For a while there it was just me and the girls going to Mass and I couldn't leave Madeline sitting in the pew to take Ellie in the back without causing a big commotion, so we stayed put.  Even on the days when I thought she was badly behaved, the lovely older woman behind me would tell me she did a good job and was so incredibly encouraging.  As time progressed other parishioners would complement Ellie on her good behavior.  So while I thought she was being disruptive, they thought she was actually quite well behaved.

When I was expecting Katie, I began to worry about how I would be able to bring her to Mass.  I had decided years before that I was NEVER going back to the crying room.  It's different in our current parish than the one we used to go to when Ellie was a baby, but I want no part of it.  For the most part we have been very blessed with Katie behaving quite well at Mass even on her bad days.  The vast majority of Masses she attended during her first year she slept through all or part of the Mass.  We have had a handful of weeks where she has been fussy, but we have only had to remove her from the church about five times.

Maybe our baby irritates some people at Mass.  I don't let her scream and wail at Mass, but I also don't fly out of the pew and head for the back of the church at the first cry.  If I can't quiet her within a minute, then I'll get up and take her out.  Most of the time she settles down for us quickly.  Sometimes she cries, but that's what babies do.  If she babbles during a song, I don't fret about it.  For the most part,  the people who sit around us are happy to see her.  The lovely older woman who sits behind us at the 5:30 vigil Mass will even hold Katie's hand during the readings to sooth her if she's fussy.  And on the bad days, I typically find friends smiling back at us or giving me a sympathetic glance.  So I think offering a welcoming environment to parents of little ones is important.  I'd probably contemplate leaving Katie at home with Bryan and not going to Mass as a family if I was getting angry glares or comments on a regular basis.

So why do I bring my toddler to Mass?  Well I bring her because I want her to grow up knowing that going to Mass is important.  It's non-negotiable.  Unless we're ill or there's inclement weather that makes traveling to Mass unsafe, we are there every weekend without fail.  I bring her because I want her to grow up practicing and loving her faith.  I bring her because I need the graces that I get by attending Mass with my children. I bring her because in doing so I stop focusing on myself and I focus on what truly matters, my God and my family.  I bring her because I promised at her baptism to raise her in the faith.  I bring her because I was very sternly told once in confession that failing to bring my children to Mass is failing in my duties as a Catholic mother.  I don't like to fail, and I haven't missed Mass for a frivolous reason since.

So what do I get out of bringing my children to Mass?  Well this is an easy one.  I get to spend the best hour of my week with my husband and my children and to top it off I get to meet Our Lord in the Eucharist.  That's what I get.  And even when Katie is at her worst, I still come away from Mass feeling incredibly at peace and centered.  I suppose that's grace at work.

Now recently I started stepping out of my comfort zone.  I began going to daily Mass a few times a week during Lent.  I only went on days when Bryan was at home in the morning so I could leave Katie with him so I wouldn't disturb anyone at Mass with my sometimes noisy toddler.  Then one morning I had no choice but to bring her with me.  My options were bring the baby to daily Mass or stay home.  I was determined to go to Mass so I brought her.  I was incredibly anxious.  I was amazed when we got through the entire Mass without a peep from Katie.  And best of all, the elderly woman sitting behind us came up to me after Mass to tell me how nice it was to see my little one at Mass.  What a relief!  It was at least another month before I brought Katie back to a daily Mass.  I formulated a plan for where to sit so I would be able to either stand off to the side or make a retreat to the narthex if she became fussy.  Over the past four weeks Katie has gone to several daily Masses with me.  Only a few times has she cried and not once have we been given the stink eye.  I have a friend who sometimes sits behind us and her children apparently entertain Katie and she does likewise.

Oh, and can I tell you what my toddler gets out of going to daily Mass?  She's picking up certain mannerisms and postures.  She holds her hands out during the Our Father like many of the other parishioners do (I do not).  Bryan noticed it when we were at Mass this past Sunday.  She can't kneel and see what's going on at the altar, but she tends to wiggle out of my arms during the consecration so she can stand on the kneeler and watch.  So she knows that something special is going on up there.  So she's learning.

So I bring my toddler to Mass because she belongs there.  As a baptized Catholic she has every much of a right to attend Mass as the rest of us.  It's true that she isn't obligated to be there until she reaches the age of reason but I think she'll grow to know and love her Catholic faith if it's part of her every day life now.

Comically Frustrating

I know in the past I've mentioned how praying for patience has backfired on me.  The problem with praying for patience is God will most certainly present you with numerous situations in which to try out that patience for which you prayed.  What remains to be seen whether or not the patience which you requested was actually granted.  Situations to try it?  Yeah, those are offered in abundance, but the patience, not so much.

So in the aftermath of a particularly trying day and what I'm sure was a very poorly thought out prayer [fine, multiple prayers].  I can't help but hear Nathan Lane as Max Bialystock shouting at me "Never pray for patience!" [Ok, so I've changed the quote where he shouts at Leo "Never put your own money in the show!" to suit my situation, sue me.]  From now on I'm going to either pray for impatience [I've got that one covered!] or I'm going to take a St. Augustine approach and pray for patience, but not yet!

So how was your morning?  Mine felt like I was put through the gauntlet of patience.  While it wasn't the best morning, I did handle it better than I might have if I didn't keep reminding myself that I didn't want my next confession to be any worse than it already was.  So amazing how the thought of having to repeat the necessary details of one of my tirades at a later date can make me stop and think for a moment.

At 5:30 Katie started crying, as I expected her to.  She didn't seem like she was hungry, so I popped a pacifier in her mouth and she went back to sleep for another 20 minutes.  When she woke the second time I decided that it was time to change and feed her.  Ten minutes later I was carting her back to her crib fully aware that Madeline was going to wake up any minute.  Cue spiritual warfare.  After five minutes of sleep,  Madeline loudly tromps into my room to ask if "part of the house" was having a power failure.  Man, I hate those partial power failures!  After some investigative questions it became evident that the "power failure" was simply that a bedroom night light and the ceiling light fixture in the bathroom had both had their light bulbs burn out.  I don't have to tell you that I was incredibly annoyed, but I handled it as patiently as I could.  Madeline would probably tell you that I was horribly mean for not agreeing to replace the light bulbs instantly, and for also making her use her bathroom to take a shower.  The room still had plenty of light from the other five light bulbs that were brightly burning.  I suppose the Bloody Mary scare has her on edge.

Roughly 45 minutes later I hear Madeline pathetically screaming for me, like a two year old, while Katie, Ellie and I were sleeping upstairs.  My alarm was due to go off in two minutes and she chose to wake me by screaming instead.  She was sitting on the couch in the family room with nothing wrong with her.  The problem was she heard someone knock on the front door at 6:58. [face-palm]  Yeah, I have a difficult time believing this one, too.  So Madeline: 1. Thought screaming for me before 7am when there wasn't an emergency, like her having sliced open her finger, again.  2. Thought that I was going to open the door before 7am when I wasn't expecting anyone and was wearing only a spaghetti strap tank top and pj shorts.  She justified this by telling me that I've told them to go and sit on the family room couch when the door bell rings and we aren't expecting anyone.  True, I've told my children who act like excited puppy dogs anytime the doorbell rings, to sit down in the family room and be quiet any time the bell rings and we aren't expecting someone.  This is all due to a series of events where they kept flinging the door open to anyone who came to it.  Of course, they never listen when it comes to this rule, and shouting for me, is not part of it.  Actually, they're to pretend that no one is home when the bell rings.

After I had taken a few minutes to calm down and stop thinking of all the things I'd like to yell at her, I was able to talk to Madeline about the door debacle. Maybe I am being more patient!  I explained to her that shouting for me like a two year old while everyone else was asleep was not the way to handle the situation.  I reminded her that she could have quietly walked upstairs to tell me she thought someone was at the door.

Then the fun of Madeline not having done anything other than showing this morning began.  After being awake for 70 minutes Madeline had only showered, woken me up twice, and packed her lunch for school.  Eating breakfast hadn't crossed her mind, nor had putting on shoes been a thought.  I quickly bandaged her cut thumb again and set her to getting the rest of her morning routine completed by 7:30.

Next it was Ellie's turn.  Because of the burnt out light she didn't want to shower in her bathroom.  But, mean mom that I am, I insisted.  Ellie made sure Bloody Mary wouldn't get her by showering with the bathroom door open.  Yeah, that works.  Once she was done, she decided to pack her lunch box and ignore the mess she left in her room and the bathroom.

Once I had showered and gotten dressed I retrieved the now awake Katie so I could feed her.  Ellie decided to obnoxiously read for Katie's dining pleasure.  Babies who are nearly six months old are easily distracted and so I quickly became covered in sticky drops of milk.  Katie, not wanting my clothes to be left spit up copious amounts of milk all over my sweater minutes before I had to take Ellie to school.

I know, you're all wishing you could have such an action packed three hours like this tomorrow morning.  Well the good news is you can!  First you need to pray for patience multiple times and then  feel free to stop by my house and take over the morning routine tomorrow and Thursday if you're up for the patience challenge.  Just be quiet so I can get a little extra sleep and let me know you're coming so we'll open the door for you!

And the Chaos Commences

First off, Happy Easter!  I've been wanting for the past week to blog but simply haven't found much spare time.  First I wanted to blog about Holy Week and then I wanted to blog about Easter, but it seems like sometimes the days slip by at a rapid pace and blog posts that were meant to be never materialize.  If life clams down a bit over the next few days I hope to share some pictures from Easter.

Fast on the heels of Easter Sunday was Bryan's departure for Tennessee.  By 6am this morning he was already on his way to catch a plane.  This left me with the girls' last day of their incredibly short Spring break and a dentist appointment for three of us to get our teeth cleaned.  I managed to get us all ready and out the door by 8:30 this morning so we could make it to our 10am appointment.  I'm seriously beginning to wonder if I'm not just a little crazy for insisting on seeing the dentist I've seen since I was a child.  The drive from our house to Stone Harbor takes close to an hour and fifteen minutes.  Typically our back to back appointments take less time than the travel in one direction.  When it's nice and warm out I can justify this long travel time by taking the kids to the zoo right after we're done, but today it was chilly and windy so we didn't stop.  And truthfully, after spending Wednesday through Saturday at church each day I was exhausted.  I'm convinced the Triduum is nothing short of a spiritual marathon.

So after our dentist appointment I headed home knowing that Madeline, what am I saying?  She wasn't about to do any of the work.  I needed to complete a science extra credit project so Madeline could boost her grade in social studies.  That meant a trip to the craft store to buy clay [I'm amazed that we didn't have any.] and duct tape [Ah, duct tape, how I wish I had forgotten to buy you today!].  The project was quickly completed by me once we got home.  If I never have to do another Science in a bottle experiment again it will be too soon.  Two of these pain in the rear experiments in three weeks.  Of course, I should learn to keep my mouth shut when I see a failing test grade and just let Madeline deal with the consequences.  So I guess I brought this upon myself in a way.

While Katie napped, I sat down to take a break and do some reading.  I just started reading St. Therese's Story of a Soul last night and I wanted to read more.  After reading for a bit I felt incredibly tired and decided to take a nap while Katie was still sleeping.  I must have passed out on the couch for an hour and a half or more.  Unfortunately, I realized when I woke up that I must have turned off the monitor one of the times I went to calm Katie when she had just gone down for her nap.  The poor girl was up there crying and I have no idea for how long since the girls were playing quietly [amazing, right?] in the basement while I napped.  Once I got Katie, the real fun for the day began to ensue.

Madeline fancies herself an adult despite numerous reminders from myself and Bryan that she is a child.  A ten year old child.  One, who I should add, does not always exhibit the greatest judgment.  So Madeline, in her infinite wisdom or lack thereof, took it upon herself to prove to her six year old sister that Bloody Mary is real.  How did she prove this?  Well, she didn't do it the traditional way of going into a dark bathroom, looking in the mirror and calling out the name three times.  No, that would be too easy and would prove that it was nothing more than some made up thing to scare little kids.  Instead, Madeline without permission hopped on the great google machine and pulled up a You Tube video.  In doing this, she managed to scare herself and frighten her little sister to the core.  I doubt I have to tell you how unwelcome this news was to me as two little girls sat in the family room looking pale and asking odd questions about whether or not Bloody Mary was real.  When I dispelled it as made up, I was then told about the video they watched while I was getting the baby from her nap.  By bedtime I had an incredibly guilty ten year old (more on that coming up) and a terrified six year old.  I'm praying that Ellie has fallen asleep by now.

As if the Bloody Mary incident wasn't enough to make this week difficult enough, Madeline decided to add a little blood to the mix.  Remember that duct tape I brought?  No, I didn't use it on the kids if that's what you're thinking.  Madeline, who has been pestering me for nearly a year to buy her duct tape, decided to make a wallet with it after having been specifically being told earlier in the day that she was not making anything with it.  In an effort to cultivate some patience, I sat and watched her make the "wallet" and restrained myself from making any comments about the fact that I told her she wasn't allowed to play with the duct tape, or that she was once again deliberately disobeying me, or that I didn't want duct tape on my sofa.  Bryan called just as she finished and I was telling him about the wallet she made.  It was then that I noticed that my scissors were covered in adhesive, which I suspected would happen when she initially told me of all the amazing things she was going to make with duct tape.  Someone offered to clean them off, but knowing that she would likely slice open her fingers, I expressly told her that she was not to touch them.  Bryan even heard me say it.  Anyone want to guess what happened next?

So while I was still talking with Bryan, mind you the conversation is about 45 seconds along at this point, I sat down to nurse the hungry baby and that's when the screaming and crying began.  If you guessed that my ten year old sliced open her thumb then you get to give yourself a pat on the back.  Go ahead, you deserve it.  While the cut is about 1 1/2 inches long and a bit deep, it wasn't bleeding a lot and it doesn't look like it would have needed any stitches.  It was just the excitement that we didn't need this week.

I didn't handle the situation well at all.  Between my total annoyance at her disregarding what I had just told her and the stress of another one of Bryan's business trips, I snapped.  Calm, compassionate and caring are not words that would have been used to describe me.  I believe at one point Bryan had to tell me several times over the speakerphone to stop being spiteful and just get her cut cleaned and bandaged. I feel like tonight was a test and I was found wanting.

In my best Scarlett O'Hara impression [which is pitifully bad given that I'm not a southern gal] I just have to tell myself that "Tomorrow is another day."  And so, I'll just pick myself up and try again tomorrow.

Lord, give me patience, but please, I beg you, don't give me any situations where I'll have to use it.  Or, let's just save both You and me some frustration and just give me obedient children for which I will be eternally grateful.  Does that work?

Unleashing the Mama Bear

Today started off well enough.  The kids were happy.  I was being somewhat productive.  And I was happily riding that just went to confession high.  Then, it all came to a grinding halt at 1:25 when I picked up a crying Madeline from school.

One of the school paraprofessionals (that's the fancy name for lunch room/playground aide) questioned and accused Madeline of spreading a rumor about her friend.  Madeline told her she hadn't done that and the aide apparently didn't get the response she was looking for and informed Madeline that she would be escalating the matter to the head teacher.  So my poor child comes home to me a crying, sobbing mess.  Apparently, in the public school you are considered guilty no matter what, and Madeline is now convinced that she's going to get in trouble for something she didn't do.  Reason #523 why I'm glad we'll be homeschooling next year.

I called the school in total Mama Bear mode wanting to talk to the instigator aide but she had conveniently gone home for the day.  Isn't that always the way it is?  So I let them know that I was less than pleased with how things were handled.  While this school claims to be a school of character, I have insisted for the past four years that they're really a school of characters and I made it a point to tell the woman on the phone.  Not satisfied with my response from the office (the issue is being escalated to the principal since I threatened to take the matter to the school board and superintendent) I decided to let Madeline's teacher know what is going on and see if she knows anything about the rumor.  I also let her know that Madeline is not allowed to be questioned, interrogated without a parent present.

Then, I headed out to pick Ellie up from school.  No problems at the private school.  (I've said for years that when you write that check for tuition you're paying for peace of mind.)

I arrived home to a bunch of neighborhood kids telling me about some bullies who came around and taunted the kids while I was gone.  So now I sit here waiting for them to come back so I can unleash the Momma Bear on them.  It appears that they have selected the wrong day to come looking for trouble.

And so, I will now certainly have plenty to confess when I make it back to confession on Good Friday.  Sigh.  It never ends.  I suppose a day without sin simply isn't possible for me.   Even when I don't go looking for it, it still finds me.

The Wrath of Ellie

Life has been a bit trying here the past couple of days.  Bryan is on his second business trip in two weeks and Ellie hasn't been taking his travel very well.  She misses her dad terribly and it's put her in a mood that isn't exactly pretty.

About forty minutes ago Ellie was a bit angry with Madeline for turning off the Wii after they had finished playing the number of races I told them they could play.  Someone was hoping to get a little extra playtime and wasn't happy when things didn't go according to her plan.  While she was in a bit of a snit, I told her to go to the pantry and get her Clifford readers so she could read to me.  She angrily stormed over to the pantry, took out the box of readers and then started shoving the pantry door in the wrong direction.  Then it happened.  She broke the door off the track and it started to fall on her.

Thanks to my God-given mommy instincts, I was able to dart into the kitchen and catch the door before it could fall on Ellie or cause serious damage to any of the stuff in it's path.  I wondered yesterday what small crisis might befall us while Bryan was gone this time.  I think I got my answer tonight.

I'm actually quite surprised at myself.  Instead of yelling and ranting at Ellie, I held back after the initial "Why did you do this?!"  At first, Ellie claimed she was just trying to close the door, but she didn't protest when I told her what I heard and saw her do.  The truth was it was an angry Ellie hissy fit where she kept shoving the bifold door in the wrong direction.  By the time I was able to yell at her to stop, the door had already begun to come down.

Once I removed the door from the kitchen and relocated it to the living room, I couldn't help but laugh.  I went from feeling very angry, to strangely amused.  I tried my hardest to not let the girls see that I found the situation funny.  I guess part of what I found amusing was the fact that this was something that could be repaired and was not going to be a costly crisis like our normal business trip disasters.  That was followed by what is probably a moment of pride, where I chuckled to myself that this incident wasn't going to be part of my next confession since I handled it pretty well all things considered.  Perhaps, I was wrong since the pride thing is now evident. (I just can't win, can I?)

The best thing of all that came from this situation was Ellie showed remorse and humility when I came back into the family room a few minutes later.  She apologized to me and it was sincere.  This is a child who hardly ever gives a sincere apology. (Bryan would tell you she's her mother's daughter.)  I'm actually stunned that she apologized totally unprompted.

For the next day or so I will not have to deal with the inconvenience of opening and closing the pantry door when I go to get a hand towel or a snack.  Think of all the time I'll be able to save!

I don't want it....unless you do.

I have no idea what it is, but Ellie likes to drive me insane.  For some reason she would rather see things go in the trash than see her sister enjoy it.

Today while rummaging through the Halloween candy, she came across the vampire teeth she got in a goodie bag from a class mate.  After determining who the vampire teeth belonged to, she decided that she didn't want them and began to complain about them.  I responded with my normal then throw it away and stop whining about it mom response.  Seconds before disposal I told her to stop and asked Madeline if she'd like the vampire teeth.  She said she would and I told Ellie to give them to Madeline.  A few minutes later the tears flowed.  They were her vampire teeth and she wanted them back.  Fine.  Ask Madeline if she will give them back to you.  Madeline, begrudgingly gave them back and told Ellie it wasn't nice that she changed her mind.  A minute later, Ellie was crying.  She didn't want the teeth and wanted to throw them in the trash.  Arrgh!  Then I demanded that she give me the teeth.

Why is it that she would rather toss something she doesn't want in the trash instead of letting her sister have it?  It's crazy.

Parents of the Year

Bryan and I will be claiming this title at the close of the year.  The awesomeness of our parental abilities knows no limits.  On most days my children are the ones who wander around uttering the phrases "Can I have a snack?" or "When's lunch (or dinner)?" which would lead most people to believe my children are, in fact, never fed, which isn't true.  I actually think that my kids are on a quest to eat us out of house and home.

In discussing what we'd like to eat for dinner tonight, I suggested to Bryan that we have hamburgers tonight.  Bryan, who spent the better part of yesterday afternoon cooking hot dogs and burgers on the grill at Madeline's birthday pool party didn't want to grill anymore this weekend.  Understandable, but I still wanted a burger.  The one I had yesterday was chilly by the time I managed to get halfway though it.  Such is life, when you are hosting a party and trying to make sure everyone has what they need.  Everyone that is, but our children.

Ellie was listening to our discussion about tonight's dinner and mentioned that she didn't have a cheese burger yesterday. I instantly started to fret when I realized that she hadn't had a cheeseburger during the party.  I was upset primarily because we didn't eat dinner until 9PM last night.  Ellie survived on chips, a soft pretzel, cookie cake and a cupcake for most of yesterday.  I realize it's not the worst that could have happened, but I feel so badly that she didn't have a decent lunch or timely dinner.  The funny thing was she never complained once that she was hungry.

When Madeline came home from swimming at the neighbor's house Bryan asked her if she ate a burger or a hot dog at the party.  She went silent in that way that instantly told us that she had neither.  So Bryan rephrased his question and asked her what specifically she ate.  She fared slightly better than her sister.  She ate chips, tostitos, soft pretzels, fruit from the fruit tray, and cookie cake.  She also didn't complain of hunger at any point in time.  In fact, she could barely eat the pizza we ordered for dinner.

So there you have it.  Bryan and I have the poor habit of remembering to feed our children when we throw parties.  We go out of our way to make sure all of our guest have been fed, but we totally forget to feed the kids.  We will now await the letter that awards us the parents of the year award for teaching our children how to be self-reliant.

In the future I'll consider asking my children during the party if they would like to eat something more substantial than chips.

Pillows and Apple Juice

Ever have one of those days where you just wish you could hit a reset button? Occasionally, those days crop up in my life. For the most part, I can make lemonade out of most lemon days. Sometimes it's easy and other times it takes an effort of epic proportions. Other times, I just lose it and the day takes on a crash and burn feel. I'm not a fan of crash and burn days. They make me feel guilty and leave me feeling disappointed in myself. With that in mind, I try to make sure I can turn the lemon days into lemonade days whenever possible.

Today has not been the greatest day for me. I started off my day with a painful awakening at 4AM. The lovely new pillow I purchased yesterday gave me a stiff neck, incredible pain in my shoulder (the joint) and sciatic nerve like pain running down my right arm and into my fingers. My spine feels like it is totally out of alignment. Apparently, it wasn't bad enough that the my lower back issues were coming back last week. My neck decided it had to get in on the action, too.

I was a total grouch this morning when the alarm clock went off at 7:20. Bryan was seemingly chipper and when I snapped at him and then Ellie a few moments later, he made me realize that I was taking my frustration out on them. (I frequently point out to Bryan when he misdirects his irritation at something towards the girls, and today he caught me doing exactly what I admonish him for doing. Well played, my friend, well played.) I was still a grouch after that, but I kept my grouchiness to myself. Ok, I did hit the new pillow a few times. (I was trying to flatten the overstuffed neck traumatizer out a bit--it didn't work.)

By the time I left the house to take the girls to school I was able to function like a pleasant person. Since I'm left handed, I was able to deal with the fact that my right arm was in a lot of pain.

I took things relatively easy this morning while Ellie was at school. I did a little cleaning, printed the new Lenten Adventures things for today, put away some laundry and listened to a few pod casts. It wasn't an earth shatteringly productive morning, but I didn't sit around brooding over my pain.

When I picked Ellie up from school, I figured we'd head home, eat lunch and watch TV or play. I don't have to pick Madeline up from school today since I did the dropping off. I was happy in knowing that I could relax the rest of the day. I had a couple loads of laundry that would need to be done and a dishwasher that would need to be emptied, but with an entire afternoon ahead of me, I walked in the door feeling like I could tackle this day head on.

Within minutes of arriving home, I got whacked with a truck load of lemons. On Thusday, I marveled to myself about how great it's been that I haven't had to clean up a spill in a long time, with the exception of the couple ounces of water Madeline spilled on the kitchen counter that morning. Since it was only water, it was no big deal. Everything that got hit with the water was easily cleaned up in about a minute. I thought about how great it is that Ellie almost never spills, and I wondered why it's generally Madeline who is the spiller of sticky juices. Juices, that splatter on the table, the chairs, the floor, the pantry doors, the sliding glass door and anywhere else juice can dare to fly. Spills upset me. Madeline spills and instantly she's wailing like a toddler and I find myself annoyed and yelling. It's never a pretty picture, and that's why I was so happy that I haven't had one of those spills in a long time. I even stopped to thank God for keeping my kitchen spill free and I prayed that we wouldn't see a spill for a long time--perhaps a few years down the line.

I'm sad to say that my prayer to keep my kitchen spill free was not granted. Maybe God didn't like that I wasn't patient with my child when she spilled a little water on Thursday. Maybe He didn't like that I was angry with my husband, who was on his way to work when the spill occurred, for leaving his partially filled cup on the counter top. I blamed Madeline for being careless, and I blamed Bryan for leaving his cup out. I did not, however, blame myself for losing my temper when the spill happened. Anyway, as I busied myself with getting Ellie's PB&J sandwich made, we had a spill in the kitchen. The kind I prayed to not have to clean anytime soon. Half of the kitchen table was covered in apple juice. Two of the chairs were hit, one table leg was dripping with juice and the puddle and splatter pattern of the juice on the floor was nothing short of impressive. I have no idea how much juice was in that cup when she sat down. I suspect it was at least half full.

I sighed audibly when Ellie said "Oh no, I spilled." She didn't cry or carry on like Madeline would have. She was calm and she asked me if I could clean it up. I think she even apologized. Anyway, I stood there looking at the sandwich that was to be made, then to the calm child before me, and then the mess (look away, it's bad). Getting down on my hands and knees to clean was the last thing I wanted to do. Then, I noticed the merciful cross on the basement door. "Bear wrongs patiently," I thought to myself. And, that's what I did. I didn't raise my voice or belittle my child for what was clearly an accident. When I realized that she had destroyed Madeline's paper crown that we made at the art museum yesterday, I thought again about our merciful cross. Madeline would have an opportunity to earn yet another flower today. She too, would have an opportunity to perform a spiritual work of mercy towards her little sister. She can choose to forgive this injury to her personal property and earn a flower, or she can choose to be angry and unforgiving and gain nothing as a result.

I cleaned the spill without complaint and went back to making Ellie's lunch. Then, I ran a load of laundry that contained apple juice soaked kitchen towels. When Ellie was done eating, I swept and mopped the kitchen floor. I wish I didn't have to mop that floor, but now that it's done, I'm glad that I have a clean floor. I dare not pray that it stays that way, unless of course, I want to be mopping in the very near future.

I think I've done a good job of making the best of an otherwise miserable day. I'm sure at the very least that Ellie appreciated that I didn't freak out when she spilled her juice.

In case any of you are wondering, I gave myself a flower for not losing my temper over spilled apple juice. I'm sure Bryan will find my latest flower to be rather amusing.

Face, Palm: Meet

I just got in from dropping Ellie off at school. She has this quirky tendency to say things that are funny yet, often embarrassing. Usually when Ellie says these things she does so in a manner that can't help but attract attention. She talks louder than normal (a sure sign she wants people to hear her) and in a very odd tone (it's the hey, look at me tone) and usually she has this slightly exasperated look on her face (sometimes accompanied with an eye roll in my direction) that says, "you should know this already, Mom". Most of the time, I try to ignore whatever it is that she's trying to use to embarrass me. Today, however, was a little different. As I'm fiddling with Ellie's book bag trying to adjust it and pull out the lunch box (lunch for a "class picnic" that will happen well before 11:30AM dismissal--that makes sense) she comes out with the zinger. "I hate farting." Are you kidding me? Did she really have to announce that? I'm guessing she must have just let a few rip. Why else would she have felt the need to make that announcement? Never a dull moment here.

The imperfections of perfectionism

Ah, the joys of being the perfectionist parent to a perfectionist child! (That statement is dripping in sarcasm, just so you know.) We're now in the throes of preparing Ellie for Kindergarten. Her school sent home their monthly class update last week and in it was a reminder to keep working on teaching our address, last name, phone number, birthdate and all that good stuff. You know, the things parents want their children to know so they can be returned if they're lost. Let's just say, Ellie wasn't exactly in the know.

I remember teaching Madeline all of this stuff four years ago. I also remember her reciting my name, our address, our phone number and a litany of other things that were personal information while we stood in line at the bank, and the post office, and Target and while walking through the mall. Yeah, sometimes I think it would be better to just leave the kids in the dark. I am grateful that we're not required to teach our kids our social security number, garage door code, and bank account number. If we did, I can assure you that we would have been the victim of identity theft many times over.

Ellie is my stubborn kid who learns what she wants to learn on her terms. She's a perfectionist. I didn't recognize this obvious trait until a few months ago. You would think that I would have picked up on this about three years ago since I'm a perfectionist, but clearly I'm oblivious at times. I've been saying she's the perfect child for me for years, but I never realized it was because she's very much like me. The problem with having a perfectionist as a child is she isn't necessarily willing to try something more than once if she isn't assured that she will execute the task perfectly the first or second time around. This is something that makes me want to bang my head against a wall. I am the kind of perfectionist that will keep doing something over and over until I perfect it. I'll get frustrated and angry along the way, but I don't lose sight of the end goal. Ellie on the other hand, is the laid back perfectionist. She wants perfection but she certainly doesn't want to waste her time trying to master something if she can just abandon it and move on to something else.

I have to say that I was stunned when Ellie learned our address in the span of a few minutes. Then she picked up our phone number in a snap. Birthday? I don't think I got to take a breath before she had that banked in her little steel trap of a memory. Last name, was a little tricky. Ellie wasn't willing to acknowledge it at first. I suspect she doesn't like it. It wasn't until I assured her that all of us had that as our last name that she finally agreed to own it. And it's not like we have some awful last name that's hard to say, it's a short one syllable last name. So we have it all covered. Phone number, address, name, parent's names, and birthdate. What we're missing is the ability to spell and write Elisabeth. She goes by Ellie. Ellie is what she reads, writes and spells with ease. She can recognize Elisabeth when it's written, but she does not like writing it, and she does her best to resist learning how to spell it. It's frustrating, and it aggravates me that we're almost able to check all of this off the list, but Ellie just won't comply. So her perfectionism and mine are both frustrated as a result. Obviously, one of us is going to have to bend here, and I have a feeling it's not going to be me. I have no intentions of legally changing her name to Ellie for her convenience.

I'm hoping she will comply soon and have her name issues out of the way. In the meantime, I will continue to parade around with my daughter who is now happily telling everyone where we live, what our phone number is and what our names are. I'm proud of her for learning everything so fast, but this is one phase I certainly don't care like very much. Aside from the random divulging of personal information to perfect strangers, this stage also brings with it the sting that in less than nine months my baby will be leaving me five days a week. Kindergarten wasn't a big deal for me when Madeline started because I had a toddler at home. But this September will be lonely. I'll find myself at home alone with Mr. Furkins for 6 hours a day. Sure, I'll probably enjoy the silence and the immaculately kept home, but I know I'll be missing Ellie.

Think I'm being tested?

I think my attendance at Mass each week has hit a point where it's a test. A test of my patience, a test of my ability to endure, a test to see if maybe, just maybe this will be the week that I lose it (either laughing out loud at something that's not funny, or scolding my child loudly). Ellie appears to be my quizmaster in this realm of my life.

I'm pretty sure I've hit a point where I'm not allowed to have any peace while I'm at church. I find this funny in a not so funny way. I go there for peace, but clearly, I'm not intended to have it at present.

I've been home for about 45 minutes now after enduring my weekly test of patience called Mass. Ellie humors me and is good for the first 15-20 minutes that we're there. Once Mass begins she starts to work her magic. Running her fingers along the missal covers to make an annoying sound during the opening prayer? Check! Wiggling all over and shoving her books in my face during the first and second readings? You've got it! Ahh, the Gospel. Now it's time to break out the big guns! Jumping around and swinging her rosary around is the perfect way to distract mom! If you can involve you sister by irritating her, too, that adds a little more fun. The homily is where we really get to have some fun. If Father is talking then it makes perfect sense that Ellie should be find something to complain about. After that, it's time to sit on Mom's lap, kiss her loudly and then start making goofy faces and putting your hands all over Mom's face in a way that will totally irritate her. And keep in mind that Mom is desperately trying to pay attention to the homily amid all the distractions, and it doesn't help when the priest says a phrase that she remembered reading on The Crescat and has to suppress laughter, too [during a homily about abortion--absolutely not a funny topic]. By the time the Liturgy of the Eucharist rolls around we're in good shape to see just how frazzled Mom has become. The consecration is where Ellie wheels out the best she can dish out. At one point, frustrated Mom, desperate to get Ellie to just kneel and be quiet, pushed her forward a little too hard and she hit her head (loudly) on the pew. Ugh, surely everyone who witnessed and heard that probably think I'm the monster mom. There were lots of other annoyances, too. My child decided to loudly fart a few times and laugh about it. I wanted to disappear.

I'm now thoroughly exhausted. I did not get the peace I sought. Instead, I spent time trying to hone patience and praying that God would grant me more patience. If it could arrive before 4:30 Mass next week, I'd be really happy. I am starting to wonder if maybe I should be asking God to grant me a child who can calmly attend Mass, of course, given the sense of humor God seems to have when it comes to me, that would probably not come in the form of a clam and obedient Ellie, but rather, another child. God only knows if I'd have enough patience for three.

What kind of a mother am I?

I've been pondering this question all day. Am I the type of mom that raises a criminal? Do I foster the kind of kids that seek to harm others to feel better about themselves? Am I raising honest kids? Or, am I raising self-serving liars? So this question about what kind of mother I must be has left me giving my parenting a long hard look.

I have tried my best to raise my children to be polite, compassionate, and honest. In many instances I have succeeded. But for some reason, certain points don't stick with Madeline. Am I just a crappy mom? Or, does my child just make bad choices or perhaps not even give any thought to her actions? I'm not sure what the answer is, but today I just feel like I'm a failure of a mom.

Today I got an email from Madeline's teacher at 9:25AM, a mere 40 minutes after she was dropped off at school. I've learned from past experiences that it's generally not a good thing when you get an email from the teacher this early in the day and the subject is simply your child's name. If you haven't received one of these emails regarding your child take my word for it when I say you don't want one. The email essentially stated that my child told a malicious lie to a classmate who has been distraught over her missing dog. What did she do? Madeline told the little girl that we found their lost dog, fed it, and Ellie let it outside this morning and it's once again missing. So the poor girl told the teacher what Madeline said. When confronted by the teacher, Madeline decided to lie (again) before coming clean. I can't for the life of me understand why she did this.

When she came home from school she concealed this incident from me for an hour. I asked her how school was and she acted suspiciously, but told me she had a good day. She did her math without complaint (very unusual). She asked for snacks. I didn't deny a single one. Lolipop? Sure. Candy cane? Why not? Hot Chocolate? You got it, kiddo! The hot chocolate pushed her over the edge. The guilt was evident on her face and she decided to come clean. I think the slight glimpse of the email from the teacher on my laptop may have prompted the confession. To unnerve her a little more, I very calmly (no yelling) talked to her and hugged her. She initially told me the teacher had it all wrong and that she lied after the teacher wouldn't believe the truth. (Madeline has actually done this many times in the past, but I don't understand why she would implicate herself like that.) I gave her the benefit of the doubt and told her that I would have to write a letter to the teacher. She guiltily sat down and drank her hot chocolate. When I mentioned to her that I would accept her version of the story as the truth she perked up a bit. Then I added that I really had no other option but to believe her because the only ones who really know what was said are her, the other girl and God. I then mentioned that God is also aware of what she's saying now. Her face dropped. At that point it was clear that she had lied to me. (What else is new?)

There was also a paper (called a "Think Sheet") that I had to sign to acknowledge that I saw what Madeline wrote about the incident and why her actions were wrong. Madeline, clearly hoping to conceal this incident from me, decided to sign the paper for me. Yep, she printed "Karen" in pencil. On some level, I found this a little humorous. I explained to her that doing that was deceitful. I also let her know that it's forgery and people go to jail for that. She was very upset when she heard that and wanted to know if she was going to go to jail. She told me she forged my signature so she wouldn't get in trouble. (I print Karen in pencil as my signature in case any of you are interested in stealing my identity.)

I told Madeline that she'd be heading off to the church Saturday morning for confession. At first, she didn't want to go. But after the forgery conversation she asked me if I could take her over to the church now. She was pretty disappointed when I explained to her that she would have to wait. All of the guilt for what she had done today had taken it's rightful place on her conscience.

I had Madeline write an apology to the little girl who she upset with her lie and another one for the teacher. They weren't exactly heartfelt apologies, but I guess a lackluster apology is better than none at all.

When Bryan came home we discussed the days events a little more. He reiterated the forgery lands people in prison point. And he wanted to know the motive for the initial lie. Turns out, she did it because the little girl isn't nice to her. Madeline has a hard time accepting that not everyone in the world will like her. She would be friends with everyone if they were all willing, so it bothers her when someone doesn't want to be her friend. We had to talk to her about how it's fine if someone doesn't like you or if you don't like someone, but it doesn't mean you can be mean to them. I was picked on as a kid and I know what it's like to want people to like you. Really, I do. But the blessing (if you want to call it that) behind being in that type of situation is you realize that it's not important to have everyone like you. I look at interactions with others like this: Either you like me, or you don't. Either way, I'm not going to let it affect how I look at myself. I try to impart this to my children, but clearly, Madeline wants to learn this the hard way. Madeline is a social butterfly, and I'm pretty sure being popular and liked by everyone is a major focus in her life.

So there's my day and the reason for pondering what kind of mom I am. I try to impart the importance of being honest and kind to others to both of my children, but for some reason it just doesn't always stick with Madeline. It confounds me, and it baffles Bryan. God help me when the teen years roll around in less than 5 years. Hopefully by then my child will be better at making good choices and have a properly formed conscience to help keep her out of sticky situations.