Me Too!

If you've never seen the silent monks, it's a fun experience; sort of a Catholic's Blue Man Group except I don't think the latter folks take vows.

My Wonderful Life: I just love this!

Small Success Thursday

Standing in line for reconciliation as part of preparing for Lent, my two toddlers used their time in line with me to test the acoustics of the Church. A mother and daughter took pity on me and offered to hold Paul and entertain the other two while I went. But my two year old was not interested in watching the daughter draw, nor was she willing to be held or watched by anyone but me, so she came and demanded my arms as I waited in line. She pointed to the statue of Mary, "That's you Mom." "No, that's Mary." I explained; thinking, that's what we're supposed to be like and how many times I in my head have sneered at my own title, vocation and role, "just a mom." when here is the Mother of God, who was "just a Mom."


Part of the reason I’ve been restless is I haven't had success getting published. Whenever that happens too long, I start to chaffe at my regular duties. I know this dry spell is in part because I'm supposed to stop demanding that I be something other than "just a Mom." I know I’ve used those successes when I’ve been published to allow myself a moniker before Mom, and valued it sometimes more than that title Mom.

Foolishly switching the approval of the world for the love of my children for all of the single day that the piece runs and gets read. How stupid is that? Well, sin makes one stupid. One of these days, I’ll stop having to have this battle with the stupid part of me; one of these days I’ll grow up spiritually on this point. One of these days, I’ll submit like Mary and be gracious and grateful and thankful to the point of tears for that phrase, “Just a mom.” And then, hopefully, I can hold that thought and that moment of grace beyond that day.


So here are my just a mom moments from this past week:


1) Got daughter to her music audition for a high school scholarship. Honestly, if she gets this, I'll feel like I earned half with the nagging about practice, hunt high and low for music that fit her taste, style and range, and willingness to endure adolescent irritation when I offered suggestions or compliments or outright critiques. (I got to be all three judges of American Idol for a 13 year old).


2) We played Olympics this past weekend, complete with a medal ceremony for the sled runs. Even I ventured out into the snow (something I don't normally do), and we managed to avoid at least this weekend, the personal gritch's traditional rant against the state of the home.


3) Sometimes prayer is ubiquitous in my day, other times it is a chore, but right now, it is something I'm doing sans other things, learning to be present in prayer --and it is helping me to be present at other occasions with everyone else as a result. This has been a surprise that really shouldn't have been, but for which I am very grateful.


So look around at your week for those “Just a Mom” moments, for those little things that we're supposed to be doing not out of duty, not for the praise, not for any reason but love. Then, write them on your blog and share your triumphs that will provide you with a pat on the back for your work and encourage others by joining us over at Family and Faith Live!

Christmas Shoes Redux

If you visited this blog last year, you got my teeing off on this perenial Halmark card version of a Christmas song.

"Christmas Shoes."

It's Dickensian without the charm. It's cloy. I feel like my teeth need a good brushing whenever it comes on, but I also recognize the innocent nature of my children and have tried very hard not to expose my children to my extreme prejudice against this particular musical piece of treacle.

Alas, I have not been successful, at least with the older ones.

My oldest sings it with a mock such that even I have had to tell him to knock it off.

My next eldest is rather like me in temperment. She likewise thinks the song is over the top. It was a source of particular frustration for her when she learned she would have to watch the movie version (my own mind shudders) at school.

She then felt pained as she had to write about what it meant. I pared it down with her in a discussion.

"I know what you think of the song, but that's not what the assignment is. Just write what's it supposed to mean. What does it want to tell?"

"That we should be generous of spirit and help those around us in need rather than focus on buying what we want."

"Yes. Write that."

"Well, they didn't do a very good job." She pouted.
(It is difficult to try to be supportive of an assignment when one is mentally going "YES! HIGH FIVE!" inside).

"Well, you write a better song."

"I will."

My third knows I don't like it, so she just changes the station. (A very sensible child handling her mother well).

The fourth, the little stinker, who has just matriculated to the "older kid set," claims he LOVES the song and demands that the song not only be allowed to play but turned up. He challenges me, "What's so wrong with it?"

If I didn't know how this kid worked, I'd be in trouble. He decided pink is a boy's color just to tork off his younger brother. He's crafty. If it drives you nuts, he loves it. But he has a weak spot.

He also has things he finds unbearable, like Caiou videos. He has even drawn a picture of the cartoon four year old with commentary. "The kid is four years old. Why is he bald?" The picture shows the sad Caiou in shackles with the police congratulating my son on bringing him in and making the world a safer place.

When he cranked the song last time, I told him to expect Caiou videos for Christmas. He had the grace to laugh and turn it down.

The younger set doesn't really know about this battle over a single Christmas carol an I intend to keep it that way.

Having recently put a radio in my daughter's room so she could hear music at night, she called me in to listen to Christmas shoes. "It's really pretty." she said. "And sad. But it's good in the end." This firecracker sunflower child of mine was the only one who was earnest in her love of the song. "I'm glad you like it." I said and kissed her forehead.

Getting sentimental in my middle age or wiser, I'm not sure but I issued two edicts to my older children. "No mocking any Christmas songs." and "You can like or not like whatever songs you wish."

Merry Christmas.

p.s. I still don't like the song.