Attack!

Forgive me for being a bit bold here, but it seems that every day a different freedom is being stripped away in America. I am not a protester, argumentative, and while convicted personally, am not one to bring up controversy for the sake of debate (for that, you'll need my husband, who is courageous). No, I'd rather see the world through rose-colored glasses, living in the rural splendor of the natural outdoors, raising boys to be gentleman warriors.

But, seriously, even though I'm not a doomsday paranoid, or wrapped in conspiracy theory, I am still gravely concerned.

First, there is the looming HHS mandate, which requires employers to provide, without cost, prescription drugs that cause abortion. Religious or conscientious objections are not allowed; you must comply or be financially destroyed. It's not even a Catholic issue anymore, see the link. Regardless of why you are against killing babies, regardless of the fact that human life begins at conception, it doesn't matter. You must pay for abortion.

The second is related to religious freedom. Franciscan University of Steubenville, an Catholic university, is being investigated for its handling of homosexuality in course work. I  honestly cannot find the words to express my feelings on this issue. As an alumni of the school, and someone who knows other students and alumni who identify themselves as homosexual, the quote on Church teaching stands true at the school, which is "Franciscan University follows Catholic Church teaching in regard to homosexuality and treats homosexual persons with 'respect, compassion, and sensitivity (Catechism of the Catholic Church, No 2358) while holding homosexual acts as 'intrinsically disordered.' "

The above means what it says--FUS practices what it preaches, but will not back down on the beliefs that make the university what it is. Now, simply for being a Catholic school educating students with Catholic teaching, they are under attack. Seriously, the church Mark and I attended while he was in law school was protested by the Westboro Baptist Church, if that says anything about the Catholic Church! We are part of a compassionate congregation, but does that mean that the Church cannot take a moral stance on actions???

I am baffled. Everything I have been taught to believe about freedom in America is coming into question. I am now waiting for the next bomb to be dropped, and wondering what the government will begin to require of me in the raising and educating of my children, or the practicing of my faith.

Finally, at the 2008 DNC, the words "abortion should be safe, legal, and rare" was taken out of the platform of the DFL. It was not reinstated in 2012. In doing so, it begs the question of the DFL if they then believe abortion should be dangerous and frequent. The platform changes at the DNC were such a monstrosity that, while I previously hadn't associated myself with finality to any political party, and instead voted based on each individual candidate, I am so appalled and disgusted with the direction it has taken, that at this point, I will not even consider a candidate from the DFL. I'm keeping a safe distance from any association.

Civil disobedience? Maybe we're not too far. We will not comply.
Viva la Revolucion!

Bringing Up, French Style: Part Un

I just finished "Bringing Up Bebe," by Pamela Druckerman. Even though it's not a parenting book of how-tos, it's one of the more interesting parenting book I've ever read. It explores a culture of consistent parenting, so rooted in French society that French parents don't even know they are doing anything special. It's not all perfect, but it's highly entertaining and very interesting.

The first point that grabbed me about the book, is a difference between American and French mothers. The author explains that American mothers often judge how good a job they are doing with how difficult they make their lives. It's the typical American Martyr Mother/Woman. We earn extra points if our pregnancies are rough, if our babies sleep terribly, if our husbands work long hours, or if we do all the housekeeping/cooking without any help.

I am so guilty of this. Here's the thing, we kinda relish in it. Like, the more we sacrifice ourselves, the better we think we are for it. And we compete, too! Have you ever been venting to a mom about a difficult baby stage, or that you need more help at home? Most likely, the answer from your mom-friend is something like, "Oh you think that was tough, little Johnny woke up through the night until he was four!" Or, "At least your husband comes home at six mine never is."

I'm not criticizing my friends at all, but seriously, it's what we do, isn't it?

The French moms are on a totally different wavelength. They are devoted and love their kids, but they have an idea about balancing family life, and about le couple being a priority. There is no such thing as a "child king" in a French family, because that's not the way the French family culture functions. Children are doted on and loved, but not at the expense of the mothers personhood (which includes being a wife and a woman, something very cherished by the French--the female mystique).

I still need to chew on a lot of what was written in the first part of this book, because the ideas vary so differently not in the way I mother, but in what I deem as devotion to the kids. Even though I might be better off going to the gym everyday, getting a date night once a week, and taking an entire day away from the kids that doesn't include grocery shopping, somehow, my mind has deemed it an unworthy pursuit, because it might not include constant, loving sacrifice.

Anyone else out there read this book? Or have a thought about the French? ;-) .

Is This Thing On? Working Moms Edition.

In the past two weeks, Hilary Rosen's comment about how Ann Romney "hasn't worked a day in her life," has sparked a lot of controversy, most of which has left me offended with my feelings hurt.

For the  record, for all the good moms out there, there is no such thing as a mom who doesn't work. We are all working moms, regardless of where we are putting in our time. I have never taken a moral stance in the "Mommy Wars," and have never criticized working mothers, but on the flip side, I have to defend my decisions, too.

Since I'm not a pundit or a comedian, I'll just vent my frustration.

First off, some on the left defend Rosen's comments and have suggested that working women are superior to the ones that choose to stay home with their children. One particular comment went as far as describing the day of a working mother (getting up early, traveling in the car, being tired, etc,) and comparing it to my life (I suppose), indicating that I was both lazy and uninformed. (Let's just say that I get up pretty early, strap a lot of kids in and out of car seats, and cry sometimes because my eyes are burning from fatigue).

How can you respond to people that suggest a stay at home mother is lazy and unintelligent? Is there really anything I could possibly to say to such ignorance? Clearly, the lack of spending a minute in the shoes of a stay-at-home mother is making members of the left look out of touch, and downright cruel in the way they are diminishing the God-given role of Motherhood to an unnatural urge that needs to be weeded out in order for women to understand the economy.

The economy. That's how this whole thing started. Because apparently a women who doesn't work can't understand things like that because she...doesn't...work...(outside the home)? I am still failing to reach the connection. Someone help me here.

So let's see here, since I don't know anything about the economy, I must know nothing about budgeting, gas prices, home sales, or flat incomes. These problems are just illusions to me, Silly Girl, who spends her day propped up on the couch reading french novels with a bowl of potato chips at hand. I can't be bothered with the increase in food prices and feeding a family of five, nor the price of anything, really. Obviously I leave those trivial issues to the people who go to work.

And clearly, I haven't worked a day in my life, either.

Ann Romney raised FIVE boys. I have three, and even when I humor myself thinking about what wealth may have provided Mrs. Romney in cooking, cleaning, and childcare, there isn't a part of me that doubts that carrying her five sons, tending to them in the night, and nurturing them during the day was not only hard work, but absolutely consumed and drove her life.

I'll go as far as believing that if wealth bought Ann Romney household comforts, that those things only allowed her to work harder, freeing up more of her time to volunteer, work with her husband, attend more events to keep her political mind sharp, and be more present to her sons' activities.

I defend Ann Romney, as well as myself, and all mothers, confidently knowing how hard I work, and the great responsibilities that rest on my shoulders to manage the government within my own home.

Grocery Store Reflections.

I was in the checkout lane at the grocery store late last night, behind a family of five from a semi-agrarian religious community. In my head I was thinking of how much I admired their testament of faith--to wear their dresses and bonnets, but to also be out and about as their faith allowed.

At the end of their checkout, something wasn't quite right. Part of their purchase--the nutrient dense foods like cheese, milk, and tuna, weren't getting rung up right. There was a problem, and then a delay. The mother was getting flushed.  At the end of her purchase, six cans of tuna fish weren't able to be subsidized, and she told the cashier she wasn't going to buy them.

I am not a saint or missionary. Heck, I'm not very generous either. I mean, most of my life is spent scrubbing dirt under filthy boy fingernails, and unmentionable substances off of little boys' buns. There are times when I long to serve, to love the little orphans in Africa and Haiti, to win the lottery only to give it away to those who are hungry and cold. But, I am a mother of three young boys, and my time, treasure, and talent is wrapped up in loving and serving these souls.

But, since I was without my three amigos at the grocery store, I gathered up all my introverted courage, all of that welled-up missionary waiting to get out and shower love, and intervened. "Ma'm," I said, "I will pay for those."

The Ma'm looked confused, then quickly said, "No, no, it's okay really," and her face turned red. Then I felt really bad because I realized I had embarrassed her.

"No," I pressed on, "I would really want to buy those for you." I thought I was more serious this time.

She paused, then went on again. "Thank you, but really, no." And it was final. I did the best to hide both of our embarrassment by cooing at her little baby and talking about my own little baby.

I hesitated to share this story because I thought it made me sound a little presumptuous. I wanted to give, perhaps because in many ways I am unable. But with this one thing I could help, with this tiny purchase, I could make a difference. I wanted to love, and I wanted to share that with others outside my family.

On my sidebar is Minnesota Mom's blog. Several years ago she wrote a story about shoe shopping with her (then) five kids. At the checkout the bill was much more than she expected, and it shocked her. "I have to think about this a minute," she said to the cashier as she mentally processed the numbers. Then, a woman came up and said she was going to pay for the shoes. Maggie refused. Then, after some discussion they each paid half.

The story stuck with me. Minnesota Mom accepted the generosity of others, even though it goes against just about everything in our culture to accept someone's graciousness. I think I would have blatantly refused the same offer Minnesota Mom did, and instead been scared and skeptical.

The "pay it forward" mentality definitely has merit. People I don't even know have done very kind things for me and my family--covering whole dinners at restaurants, giving deep discounts or not charging for services, and people going out of their way to encourage us one way or another. These are not easy things to do, and I am always humbled by the gesture. Being so busy at home, when I'm out alone, when an opportunity presents itself where I can actually contribute something is rare.

And you, on the side of the road with the smoking car hood up...sorry...not pulling over. Sista doesn't do that.

In this case, at least I tried. My intentions were pure and I just wanted to do the right thing. I mean, could I have really done nothing and not felt like I was doing wrong by the omission? Until the next opportunity, I will do what Mother Theresa said to do to promote world peace, "Go home and love your family."

For now, that's all I can do. With great love.

Lost.

I hope by now you have no doubt that I love my sons. Really, I do. There is fine line though, here in Minnesota, when it is really time for winter to be over, and in theory it should be spring. We should be out riding bikes and enjoying the white turning to green. But it doesn't come. There is still snow, the boys get rambunctious, I get bored, and brain cells disintegrate.

My boys, while young, are smart kids. And I love these guys. Still, I am left to wonder, on these days while the seasons transition, if their brains got lost during on the axis tilt.

I have the occasional scenario where I walk into a room, see something mildly dangerous occurring, and proceed to sneak out and wait for the disaster to transpire instead of stopping it dead on. Don't judge, but sometimes explaining why something is dangerous isn't nearly as effective as a boy actually experiencing physical pain from his poor judgment.

Lately, we've had a lot of these scenarios. I blame it on the snow, and the icy driveway, and let's be honest...my disdain for this white March. Come on, boys, it's time to start hurting yourselves outside!

I've been on a search for the missing boy brains in the house after witnessing such events as my five year old standing on the coffee table with my size 8 women's rollerblades. He intended to rollerblade off the coffee table onto the couch. Said rollerblades were another problem when I had to explain why walking up a 17-step flight of stairs with enormous rollerblades on was a poor decision.

Speaking of uncarpeted staircases, have you ever zipped yourself up with your brother in a sleeping bag and rolled down a wood staircase? If there isn't blood, it can't hurt that bad, right?

We have a plumber in the house today, and bicycle in the basement. That covers the adventures for the morning. In the meantime, we are feasting our eyes on the blinding snow, hoping that what goes for a watched pot that never boils doesn't apply to the grass underneath the snow.

If we're lucky, when Spring has Sprung, so will a remedy of common sense for the cooped-up boys suffering from Cabin Fever.

We can hope. 

Is This Thing On?

Santorum won at the caucuses last night.

I was sorta surprised, especially after the not-so-stunning results of the other primaries.

As a matter of principle, I am not a president basher. I am, on occasion, a little bit political. In the case of Santorum's win, I definitely think the win was political.

America votes for the religious man when Americans are posed with losing their religious freedom from the incumbent.

Correct me if I'm wrong, but wasn't America founded on the premise of religious freedom? Isn't that why a new colony was formed across the ocean?

Food for thought.

March for Life.

Today is the anniversary of Roe v. Wade, and what pro-lifers call "March for Life," because of the 100k strong protesters at the capital. I've been to March for Life before, and it was hard, cold, and sad. It is not a rally, nor a party. It is a mourning of generation after generation of those who are nameless and faceless; silenced.

We talk openly with adults when the kids are around about politics, theology, and our beliefs. They don't catch most of what we're saying, so even though we openly talk about abortion and other controversial topics, when I asked Luke today if he knew what abortion was, he couldn't tell me. We pray for the unborn and for an end to abortion daily, and yet, his vocabulary doesn't yet comprehend violence against the unborn.

And today at lunch time, explaining to Luke all the people I knew at March for Life and our fight for the unborn, he became quickly confused about what we were fighting against. "Why," "Why," "Why," he had so many questions,"But why," why would babies need someone to fight for them? Aren't they safe?

No, dear child, not in this country.

I have discussed abortion with people many times. Those for and against. I've argued and fought over it; become impassioned with rage over it, but have also been compassionate and understanding. I hadn't, until today, explained it to a child.

I answered his questions modestly but truthfully--appropriate, I believe, for his level of understanding. And every word, even watered down and simplified, brought tears. Before I knew it, I was crying at the kitchen table over cheesy bread and tomato soup.

It's a sad thing to rub off some of the innocence that children are born with. After all, our children are surrounded by friends and family who adore babies and see each one as a blessing.

And I realized that talking about abortion is much different than actually explaining what it is. How painful it is to say out loud. There is a lot I want to write but can't. Instead, we pray for the unborn, we pray for an end to abortion, even though the children can't fathom a world of unloved babies.

While I can't be there today, I am raising the next generation in hopes that a March for Life for them will someday be unnecessary.

Is This Thing On?

I'm walking around in a bit of a fog today. Today is the third day in a row where the day started at 4am. My little man is all mixed up! Maybe it's teeth, changing seasons, the little runny nose he has, or just a keen perception of the transition our family is going through. Whatever the reason, today can be best be described as foggy. I'm just not all there, if you've know what I mean ;-) .

On days like this, my biggest struggle is having patience with the older two, especially my toddler, because well, toddlers take patience. Lots of patience.


Today being a "blah" sort of day, I'm reminded of the words of wisdom that I seem to be hearing from everyone these days. Whether it's in books, blogs, or in this week's case, after church, I keep hearing about a) how blessed I am to have little children, and b) that this time goes fast and to enjoy it.

The crowd at Saturday evening Masses vary drastically from the typical Sunday morning congregation. Our family is familiar sight on Sunday, along with the many other families that attend church. But on Saturday night, families are a rare commodity. So while I hadn't expected it, we were held up after Mass by a show of single women and older couples commenting on our boys.

They loved to see our children at church, and thought our family was "lovely" and "beautiful." Is it bad to admit that I enjoyed the affirmation? It's usually me that's doing the admiring. I'm always around lovely families and beautiful children. I like to observe families to see how they tackle the never-ending challenges that parenthood brings. So, to be the lone family at church and to be encouraged was just what was needed after a long day.

One woman said to me over and over again, "Never forget how blessed you are." She shared that she was never able to have children, and how she dreamed of having boys, and here I was with three. "Never forget how blessed you are to have these children." She was elderly, and I thought she would cry she spoke so intensely.

Naturally, the people who are giving me their time-treasured words of wisdom are no longer changing diapers, nursing babies, or buttering toast, but the sentiment is still the same. The days are long but the years are short. 

Having these little people so dependent upon me is exhausting in every facet. Their physical, emotional, spiritual and educational needs are on a never ending cycle that require my 100% compliance, because I am their mother. And while it is admittedly draining to to work so hard every day (and night!), I've come to appreciate the gift it is to always have a chubby cheeks to kiss, a toddler to laugh with, and a preschooler who just wants to show me what he's accomplished that day.

Are the days long now? Yes. 
Are the years short? I'm not sure.
But, will you be sad when they're over? Absolutely. 

Is This Thing On? (A Fictitious Epidemic??)

This video is 11 minutes long, but I really encourage anyone with children to watch it and think about the points being made. It is about the education system's model, and our rapidly changing world. As the mother of three sons, two of whom are extremely busy/fidgety, the education conversation and how to teach bright children without killing their inquisitiveness is something of a passion of mine, as well as many others.

I have so, so much I want to say about this topic, but I might save it for a different post.

Please, I'd love to know your thoughts on these ideas.

Is this thing on?

Confession: I can't fold a fitted sheet.

Can.not.do.it.to.save.my.life.

I want to be able to, and have looked up Youtube videos, read magazines with step-by-step instructions, and have even gone as far as laying my freshly washed sheet on my goldfish crumb-laden carpet to get the corners to line up correctly.

It's no use. Let's face it, I just end up rolling it up into a big, ugly ball every time, and there it sits taunting me as it spews out of the closet shelf.

Sorry Martha, I'm a domestic drop-out.

Is This Thing On?

"Bear one another’s burdens, and in this way you will fulfill the law of Christ."

Galatians 6:2 NRSV

A faithful woman recently shared with me the necessity of transparency, to show ourselves to others in a true sense. Just as a window is transparent to let light in, so must we also be transparent to let The Light of Christ shine in us and through us to others. 

Who are we to others? To Christ? When light is shone on us, what does it reveal? 

"Is This Thing On," is a new label and category I'm adding. It's my microphone for transparency, a sometimes clean, other times smudged and scratched window into strengths and weaknesses as honestly, and as transparently as I can make them.

If blogs are good at anything, it's the ability to show the best of our lives. We never see the screaming kids, microwaved dinners, exhausted mother, or the dirty windows; perhaps appropriately so. All I want to do is level every so often as an encouragement to those who are tempted to think that they are the only ones who don't have it all together.

While we can't all be neighbors, I'd like to think that we all share a cup of coffee over the internet waves while our kids patiently wait for more apple juice :-) .