I love that I can make this little person so happy, just with the push of a swing…

On Monday we lost something: the remote. 

First Dax and I blamed it on Joseph.  Joseph just recently learned how to use the remote for the DVD player so he can rewind his Wee Sing America CD (he likes to listen to the same songs over and over and over and over…).  Daxson and I spent quite a bit of time searching.  After Dax got home from work Monday night, he spent another good hour searching the house from the floor to Joseph’s reaching height.  No remote.  But he did find the missing letter A and Joseph’s play pair of glasses. 

Tuesday we decided maybe it wasn’t Joseph.  Maybe it was Dax or me that “misplaced” the remote.  So naturally I blamed Dax and he blamed me.  I looked everywhere I thought he might have put it and he looked everywhere he thought I might have put it.  Just to support my theory of it being Daxson: a few months ago, I asked Dax to cut up the watermelon…the next morning I opened the cabinet to get out a bowl and there was the watermelon…all cut up, in the cupboard.  Then again, around that same time, I could not find the bag of Fritos after lunch one day, only to find them a week later in the freezer…that was my doing.  So really, it could have been either of us.

So Tuesday not only did I spend the day searching (the refrigerator, the freezer, the laundry room, etc, etc), but I spent the day trying to remember.  When did we last have the remote?  What did we do after that time?  Well, I remember we had it at breakfast…or actually, Joseph had it at breakfast.  But then I remember taking it from him because he kept rewinding the CD in the middle of the song and it was getting a little repetitious.  When I took the remote, I’m sure I put it up somewhere high so he couldn’t reach it or did I?  Here’s where my memory fails.  Did I give it back to him after explaining that he needed to let the song play through?  If not, where did I put it?  Did I carry it around while I cleaned up toys and laundry?  If so, did I put it down somewhere along the way?  Did we have it again at lunch? 

This is crazy.  I’m only 29 and I can’t remember some simple little details.  I know I’m not aging faster than the average person.  I know I don’t have a memory problem because I can still memorize the lyrics to whatever song puts my kids to sleep and the words to their favorite books.  My unofficial diagnosis:  I’m mindlessly passing through my day.  I’m on autopilot.  I’m not focusing.  I’m looking at my children but not really seeing them.  I’m hearing my husband but not really listening.  I’m taking the remote, but not even remembering that I did so. 

So, Monday we lost something: the remote.  But I gained something too: the realization that I need a pause button in my life.  I need to learn to be fully present in the moment. 

Maybe losing that remote wasn’t such a bad thing…after all, since then, I’ve listened to Joseph read his favorite passage from Fly, Jimmy, Fly and noticed how expressive he is in his reading; I’ve played Boom with William ’til tears ran down his face from laughing so hard; I’ve eaten slow enough to actually taste my food. 

Don’t get me wrong.  In a mommy’s world, you have to multi-task…just not at the expense of everything good in your life.  So press the pause button.  Be present.  Be mindful.  And pay attention to where you put the remote.

# of times I’ve wiped a runny nose…I’ve lost count.

# of times I’ve said “God Bless You” to two sneezing children and a husband (who, by the way, continues to deny it’s anything but allergies)…feels like 2,164 but it’s probably more like 20.   

# of times I’ve wondered where we caught this one…only 3…I’m finally learning that it does no good to try to trace the origins…instead I’m putting all my energy towards getting through it and being preventive for the future.

# of times, just today, that I have wished that all people shared my philosophy of prevention and would wash their hands and keep themselves and sick kids (and siblings) home when coughing or sneezing…oh, I don’t know, probably 57.

# of times I’ve administered Benadryl or Sudafed…just twice; Dax has been the evil medicine administrator this time around.

# of times we’ve refilled the vaporizer…at least 3, but we’ve successfully stopped the barking.

# of times I’ve worried it’s the croup or RSV…at least 5.

# of times I’ve called the doctor…just once and he reassured me that it’s not the croup or RSV.

# of times I’ve cried with frustration at the thought of sick children…surprisingly, none.

# of times I’ve nibbled on that chocolate bar Mom gave me…2, okay maybe 2 x 2.

# of times I’ve asked Dax how he’s feeling…just twice…I don’t want to annoy him for fear he’ll retreat into his cave and I’ll be stuck by myself to deal with sniffly noses and icky coughs.

# of times I’ve checked William’s nose to see if it’s running…every single time I look at him…and yep, now his nose is running, too.

# of times I’ve been reassured by St. Paul’s words in 1 Corinthians 10:13, “God is faithful and will not let you be tried beyond your strength; but with trial he will also provide a way out, so that you may be able to bear it.”…each and every time I’ve thought to myself that the worst part of having a sick child is the uncertainty that lurks behind that sniffling nose…worrying that it could be something much worse than a cold.

# of times I’ve reminded myself it could be worse, I could have 8 kids all with a stomach bug and only one bathroom…just once, I didn’t want to discourage myself from a large family.

# of times I’ve prayed and found peace…each time I’ve looked at my children today.

# of times I’ve praised God, not for the cold, but for the realization that we are usually a very healthy family, and there’s nothing so wonderful as good health…numerous times.

It’s 3:00 and the house is bathed in silence.  It’s naptime and I actually have two kids napping.  Might not sound too impressive.  In fact, if you had told me I was going to blog about naptime a few weeks ago, I would have laughed and told you there would be nothing to say in a blog about naptime.  Naptime is no big deal…it’s just a part of our afternoon routine.  Oh, but now I know what the big deal is. 

Last week we visited my parents for a week.  Day 1 at Grandma and Grandpa’s the kids did not nap.  I brushed it off…it was exciting to be in a new place.  No big deal.  I put them to bed early.  Then Day 2 came and went without a nap.  Then Day 3 and 4 and 5 and 6…all came and went without naps.  Joseph and William were fine.  They played hard each day and then went to bed early each night.  But I suffered.  I never realized how much I rely on their nap for a mental break.  By Napless Day 3, I was miserable.  It’s not that I don’t want to play with my kids.  It’s not that I have so many pressing things to do that I rely on that time.  It’s greater than that.  It’s that I’m a mommy 24 hours a day, 7 days a week and I need some time at some point to recharge.  I didn’t realize until last week that naptime is my recharging time.  I’m not good to anyone without a chance to recharge.   Naptime is my time.  Daxson’s working, the kids are sleeping, the house is mine.  Sometimes I blog, sometimes I clean, sometimes I read, sometimes I even nap right alongside my children.  But it’s not important what I do during that time, it’s important that I have that time. 

I know that at some point my kids will outgrow their naps.  I know that when that happens, I will listen to the wise advice handed over to me by many seasoned mommies and we will have a quiet hour every afternoon so everyone can recharge.  But I also know that until that day comes I will cherish naptime.  I will use it for my own selfish mommy time, so that I can spend the rest of the day giving 100 percent of myself to my children.  

Just a little advice from a mommy who has now experienced a week without naps…Whatever it takes, be it an afternoon nap, a Saturday out shopping, a date night with your husband…a recharged mommy is definitely worth it…so do it…fully recharge yourself and please, oh, please…don’t feel guilty.

I love traditions.  I really do.  I love the feel of something so familiar and comforting.  A tradition is like an old friend that you’ve known forever.  You might not see them often, but when you do, it’s like coming home.  Traditions are wonderfully warm and full of happiness and all the things that make wonderful memories. 

When Dax and I first got married, we had no incentive to make our own traditions.  We just kept on with what we’d known forever.  Except it wasn’t really that simple because we were trying to combine two completely different family histories with very different traditions.  We stumbled through the first few years.  When it came to holidays, we either visited my family or his.  For birthdays, we joined his family.  For Sunday breakfast we showed up at his parents.  For decorating the Christmas tree, we went to my parents.  Easter egg hunt?  His parents.  New Year’s pork pie?  My parents.  We had wonderful times and made many special memories, but nothing defined us.  We were just an extension of our families.  Nothing that said Dax and Stacie. 

It wasn’t until we had our own kids that slowly, over time, without really even meaning to, we began to form our own traditions.  Slowly, Sunday breakfast at his parents was replaced with our own tradition of early Mass and picking up taquitos to eat at our house.  Our birthday celebrations began to center around us.  We now decorate our own Christmas tree.  It’s not to say that we no longer participate in our childhood traditions…sometimes we also join my parents and help decorate their tree (which is always, faithfully done on Thanksgiving weekend); sometimes we end up celebrating a birthday dinner for one of us at his parents; Dad still thinks of us on New Year’s and sends us a delicious pork pie.  And we love that…all of it.  We love still being a part of our families, yet we love being a family all of our own, too.  A family we’ve formed with lots of love and time and yes, lots of our own traditions.  Traditions like making muffins every Saturday morning, driving around to look at lights on Christmas Eve, a trip to Barnes & Noble on each of our birthdays, Sundays filled with family time. 

We’re not completely an entity of our own…we still celebrate the big holidays with our extended families, blending our thoughts and ideas with our long-loved childhood traditions and we still stumble through uncharted territory at times, but we’re no longer simply a blurry extension of what we once were.  We’re a beautiful blend of old traditions and new, defined simply by our love for what’s wonderfully warm and full of happiness and a deep desire to pass on the simplicity of comfortable, familiar traditions to our children. 

“A mother is the most important person on earth. She cannot claim the honor of having built Notre Dame Cathedral. She need not. She has built something more magnificent than any Cathedral — a dwelling for an immortal soul, the tiny perfection of her baby’s body.”    

-Joseph Cardinal Mindszenty

Gone are the days of helping Joseph get dressed or helping him put together his favorite puzzle.  No longer can I show him how to do things.  We’ve hit the age of “I’ll do it myself.”  The most often heard words around our house are those of a toddler screaming (sometimes literally) for independence…”No, Mom, no!”; “Joseph do it.”; “If I do it Mom, you say ‘Good for you’ okay?” 

This stage is a little trying, no doubt, but I know we’ll come out on the other side soon enough and life will be even better because of it.  I know that.  I do, really, but I’m still going to take a moment to mourn the loss of his complete dependence on me.  I’m going to miss him bringing me his sweater to help him put on and I’m going to miss him asking me to choose which snack and I’m going to miss him asking for help with his blocks…I really am going to miss those days; those days that I sometimes said, “I can’t wait for him to be more independent.”  I really am going to miss it.  But it’s all part of growing up…as a mommy. 

I have a secret.  You are probably going to think I’m nuts, but I’m going to share my secret with you anyway.  Okay, here goes:  I love waking up to nurse William during the night.  I know, I know, you think I’m crazy, but let me try to explain.  I don’t love losing sleep.  Oh no, not me.  In fact, I consider myself to be a little sleep obsessed (translate: I’m cranky when I don’t get enough).   So if I’m not suffering from some form of insomnia, then you’re probably wondering why in the world I like, no actually, enjoy, getting up in the middle of the night to nurse.

I’ve been reflecting on this, too: why do I enjoy getting up in the middle of the night to nurse?  With Joseph it was different.  I remember waking up in the morning and grudgingly saying to Dax, “How did you sleep?” but before he could answer, I’d say, “Well, Joseph was up every hour last night” and then off I’d go in a huff feeling cheated of a good night’s sleep.  It’s not that William nurses less often.  It’s not that I’ve become accustomed to sporadic bursts of sleep.  It’s not that I’ve become some type of martyr or that I’ve discovered a new level of mothering.  It’s actually much simpler than that.  It’s just that I relish my one opportunity to simply be with William.  Finally…no one is tugging at me or demanding my attention.  No one is asking if I already unloaded the dishwasher or threw the diapers in the washer.  No one is asking me to choose a book or find a sock.  The phone is not ringing; the doorbell is silent; the computer is off.  It’s quiet.  It’s peaceful.  It’s serene.  It’s just me and William.  No interruptions.  Just us.  And for that, I don’t mind losing a little sleep.

I was just getting ready to blog about an extraordinary and beautiful book I recently read: Mitten Strings for God by Katrina Kenison.  I’ve been telling everyone I know how they absolutely must read this little gem.  Her book inspired me; motivated me; made me realize what’s really important in raising my children. 

Then today I saw a video of Katrina reading her newest novel, The Gift of an Ordinary Day and I could not wait one more minute to share her with you.  Go ahead and watch…her message will reverberate through your heart and you, too, will find yourself enchanted, suddenly aware of the little things in your ordinary days

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For all the women out there who just can’t say no (isn’t that all of us?), please, please I beg you to visit Elizabeth today and read her thoughts on saying “I’m sorry; I can’t do that.”  Now, I’m sorry, I can’t blog today…I must go tend to my big rocks…God, my husband, and my children…because it’s true:  those are the things that if everything else was lost and only they remained, my life would still be full.