After giving birth to Little Miss we thought two was enough. Mini Mister needed surgery to correct his kidney reflux. Little Miss was born slightly premature and needed to stay in the NICU for a bit to keep her temperature up. She had a heart murmur and a cranial hematoma both of which slowly went away on their own. Mini Mister had sensory issues and speech issues. Little Miss needed physical therapy and now is in speech therapy. Along the way I created quite a business card collection from all the doctors we visited.
We thought we’d been through a lot. We thought we had our share of stresses. We gave away all of our baby things to relatives, friends and charity, and saved a few for my brother in law and his wife for when they start their family. We though we were done growing our family. That was until we asked God. We prayed about whether or not to have another child and we wondered if it would be the right thing to do to try. As you probably can guess He blessed us with another little soul who was born this May. Little Pie Pie is simply that; a blessing.
Pie Pie is an easy baby. (For this I am particularlly grateful as I still have stamped in my brain vivid memories of colick. Those long hours in the evenings holding a screaming Little Miss seemed to stretch into a blurry infinity.) Pie Pie has led us to new people and acquaintances who have helped our family and our faith grow tremendously. He has taught us new things about the power of God’s grace and love, and what is possible when you let the Lord into your life without conditions.
A couple of weeks ago I was changing Pie Pie’s clothes. Our relatives generously lent us the infant clothes their own twin boys out grew. (Many of these tiny outfits were once Mini Mister’s which we gave to them.) Pie Pie is a swiftly growing baby boy and is quickly growing out of all of his outfits. Fat little wrists are popping out. Chubby neck rolls fold over his collars. And we began to ask God where we were going to get all of the items you need to cloth and care for a growing baby? Help again blessed us from everywhere.
One friend loaned me a nursing cover. A family member sent us a cash gift we used to buy the baby carrier/wrap I use almost daily. Another friend let us borrow her boys’ clothing. A full wardrobe through 12 months…what a blessing. The feelings of gratitude humble me.
Pie Pie taught us how to receive. You always hear that giving is better than receiving. And usually it is. But to feel God’s love shining down on you through the kind actions of those close to you is simply wonderful. All this receiving certainly inspires the giving spirit too. I just hope that we can give back the kind of love we’ve been so lucky to receive.
…to me, is how I feel most days. Maybe if I wore a suit of velcro and attached the loop strips to the kids, my arms wouldn’t hurt so much at the end of the day.
Sometimes I am so frustrated I feel like my head is going to fall off. Other times, I just laugh. This too shall pass. And of course then I’ll miss it.
So many are so generous around the holidays when we are most reminded of those in need. As those lucky ones who still have jobs fly around collecting gifts to give to loved ones, we also pick up something else for those who aren’t as lucky.
As the December holiday season draws near, Salvation Army bell ringers are out in force. Charities up their direct mailing efforts citing year-end tax relief as one of the rewards of giving. Our church bulletin is full of opportunities to give to the less fortunate here and abroad. Something about the brisk weather, the first snowflakes, and caroling on the radio stirs up the giving spirit in our hearts and challenges us to look beyond ourselves.
But where is my mind in the giving-holiday devoid months of summer? Watering plants outside. Worrying about bad-air-days when the temperatures soar to 115+ degrees F. And what to make for dinner that does not require me to spend time in a hot kitchen. My mind certainly isn’t remembering that need is year-round.
A few weeks ago our church bulletin so thoughtfully reminded me that their food pantry stores are running low. December donations have been consumed already and replenishment is sorely needed before the holiday giving season comes ’round again. So, we took out our wallets and purchased a couple of items we hope will make some one’s day a little brighter.
Why is charitable giving seasonal when need knows no season? How soon we forget about the latest tragedy that destroyed property and took lives. After the news story hits, dollars and relief pour in. How long does it take for that generousity to dry up? When giving elicits such joy and happiness, why do we not give more often? It’s it certainly worth trying to give always. Wouldn’t we all be better for it?
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When it is an especially hot day we try to give our postman a cold drink. I know it is his job to deliver the mail, but the hot and humid conditions in which he must perform his duties make me feel lucky to not have to do his job. The poor guy drives around with no AC, delivering the mail for hours and hours on end during the hottest part of the day. The look of gratitude and surprise on his sweaty face when Mini Mister runs up with a cold can of soda certainly makes you feel good about giving. How have you appreciated someone lately?
Last week was just crazy. An earthquake near us that measure 5.8, and the hurricane that blew through in the dark of night aren’t sights we see here in Virginia every day.
I can tell that these little bumps in the road had an impact on my stress level and most certainly have left impressions on the kids. Mini Mister’s eyes were as wide as pancakes when we vacated our home as the earth shook under our feet. A few days later, he was playing with a covered plastic bin with his toy cars on top. He shook the bin and yelled to his four-wheeled friends, “there is a world crake! Everyone get out of the house, it is going to fall down! It is a world crake!” Just yesterday he asked me if the earth was going to shake again. Thank goodness, my relieved answer was probably not.
The hurricane only left my husband and I up at 3 AM Sunday morning. Luckily, the kids slept through the howling winds and the creaking trees. We were left safe, warm, and dry inside our home. God’s grace was certainly around us last week.
Also adding to my stress is the back-to-school notion I am sure is on the minds of most parents right now. I am a worrier. And I make lists and plan to try to control some of the uncontrollable in life.
I worry about how I am going to feel about a quiet house. Most days this summer, I am just trying to get through the day with all the noise, clatter, and chaos that goes on from the time we rise until the time we rest. This summer, when Mini Mister tried out a full-day summer camp at his Montessori school, I missed his banter, his endless humming, and even some of the bickering he picks up with his sister. I felt sad for Little Miss that she didn’t have a playmate most of the day. And I felt a little hole peek through in my daily life where I could see that I really missed his “little-man-of-the-house” antics.
And then I worry about the logistics. Will the driving around be okay for little Pie-Pie? How will I accomplish anything the days I am on the road for 3 1/2 hours. (I could visit relatives in Philly driving that far.) Will I really be able to continue crafting, knitting, and sewing while fulfilling our co-operative family obligations at two schools? Will I be able to cook a homemade meal again? Or will I forever be tied to my crock-pot? Will I simply be able to keep my head on straight?
I’ve mostly decided to leave it in God’s hands. That is really all I can do. I can put in my 100% and beyond that, there isn’t any more that is humanly possible. I don’t know which way things will turn. I don’t know what is around the corner. I don’t even really know how to let go of it all. (That is why I’ve “mostly” decided to leave it God.) But I know that when I do invite Him into my life that I have someone on my side, and really wonderful things can happen. Things I could have never imagened solve problems. Things I never dreamed could exist come to fruition through means I never thought could be. It is amazing how God works with us, and for us. Now I just hope I can hold up my end of the bargain and be the greaceful receiver of His gifts that He needs.
Living in these parts, when you hear something go “boom” you think Pentagon terrorist attack. And that is what I thought yesterday as the earth started to shake, that low, loud rumble began to permeate everything, and my heart started to pound.
It was 1:55 PM and I had just finished nursing Pie Pie and was sitting at the dining room table with Mini Mister and Little Miss as they ended their late lunch. The house began to shake and I first thought it was a train. Freights come by regularly and some seem like they are going to come right through the house. But then the TV began swaying on the wall and the chandelier tipped this way and that and I knew it was something more.
I told the kids to quick, come with me, and that we are going outside. (Which is not what you are supposed to do. You are supposed to stand under a doorway. But all my childhood training left my brain at that moment.) As quick as light, Mini Mister slipped down from his chair and into the folds of my skirt. I secured Pie Pie in my arms and motioned to Little Miss to come quick, but she had frozen in fear. She stood on her chair and held her head in her hands and simply didn’t move. I scooped her up with my other arm and pushed Mini Mister toward the door, telling them that they had no time to put on Crocs. As we traversed the kitchen and the foyer, I could hear dishes clinking together in the sink, and the lights flickered a bit. Our flooring seemed so unstable as we bumped along and I feared it would give-way and send us all crashing into the basement. As soon as we stepped outside, the earth ceased and all was still once more.
My hands were shaking and the kids eyes were wide with terror. I quickly found my cell phone and tried to call my husband who works in downtown Washington D.C. I feared the worst but hoped for the best. All I could see in my mind was that huge, thick, column of ugly black smoke rising from the Pentagon building that September, 11th. I was crossing the Key Bridge traveling back to get home filled with fear wondering what would be hit next. My husband’s voice on the other end of the phone line said that he was fine and that it was an earthquake. As he decended in the concrete stairwell his voice faded away and died out. At least he was okay.
I turned on the news and snuggled Pie Pie in the Moby wrap as I packed the diaper bag in the case of aftershocks. I sat on the sofa yesterday afternoon, as the kids napped next to me watching the news. It was indeed an earthquake and it registered 5.8. It was centered about 80 miles away from us in Mineral, VA. I was relieved to hear that there was little damage, no early reports of injury, and that the earth had created this fear, not someone else.
Last night, Mini Mister was still scared. He snuggled up in bed with me, waiting for sleep to come, and I told his wide eyes that it would be okay.
In the wake of our decision to send Mini Mister to Montessori School, I started to ponder, how are we going to afford to send Little Miss and Pie-Pie? I was shocked a couple of months ago when I looked at the state of our finances. I added up all of our debt, not including our mortgage, and it totalled more than $90,000! (Most of this is student loans from grad school.) We’d paid more than $14,000 in interest on my grad school loans ONLY over the past six years most of the loan principle is still outstanding! We are just getting by on a six figure salary! We are living pay check to pay check at this point and we have a newborn. If my husband lost his job tomorrow where would we be? How are we going to pay down this debt and save for our children’s college educations?
A million thoughts and feelings rushed through me. Fear. Confusion. Disappointment. Shame and embarrassment. Panic. Should I go back to work outside the home? What about the kids? How much would extended daycare cost? We’d have to move Little Miss from pre-school to daycare. Would the kids have to commute an hour or more in the morning with us? How much would I have to bring in to afford the extra daycare and a second vehicle? Could I make some money at home? Should I work part-time? Is there wiggle-room in our budget? Could my husband find a higher-paying job? Would that mean he would need to spend more time away from me and the kids?
My mother was a stay-at-home mom my entire childhood. I now know what a family sacrifice that was. It really gave me a sense of security knowing that my mother was there. She was a taxi, a cook, a homework helper, a confidant, and a teacher of the crafty things I love doing today. I don’t believe I’d be the person I am today if she hadn’t spent that time at home with me. (That is to say I don’t believe I’d be a lesser person if my mother had worked outside the home, but that I am happy to be the person I am because she choose to stay at home.) I feel strongly that I want to be there for my children. I know this is also a financial sacrifice, but I hope one day they will look back, like me, and feel it was the right sacrifice.
I flung myself into researching and reading about how to diminish our debt. I read the experts. I read periodicals. I read about SAHMs going back to work. I read inspirational stories about extraordinary journeys to debt-free lifestyles. And I thought…in my heart I want to be close to my children, at home…and I want to continue creating and be paid for doing what I love.
Then I took a step back. Took a deep breath and began defining some new goals. Firstly, pay off that $90,000 we owe to the world. Secondly, find ways we can consume less as a family. Thirdly, find ways I can consume for less. Fourthly, find and develop a new revenue stream. Fifthly, commit to patience, perseverance, courage, humility, and ingenuity. Accumulating and ignoring this debt took time and so will paying it off.
My husband and I talked a lot about this. Before our conversation it seemed like the elephant in the room that no one wanted to mention. Somehow we just swept that elephant under the rug and went about without changing our spending habits. Luckily, we are both on the same page about our monies. We both spend similarly and we both save similarly. And we are both committed to getting to that place where we are free of debt.
Why do I want to get to that place? Freedom. Without debt payments due each month, we don’t have to worry if our next paycheck will carry us through another thirty days. And we can spend money on opportunities we want to take advantage of today, instead of paying for the opportunities we took yesterday.
I know that there are a million different pros and cons of being a stay at home mom. All those out there who are working mothers, I don’t think I have the strength to be you. I admire you for your courage, discipline, and sacrifice. I feel extremely lucky to have a choice in this matter of going back to work and I hope that I made the correct choice to put things right before my chance disappears.
P/S
Apparently, I wrote about getting out of debt a couple years ago. Is this going to be a reccuring summer freak-out?
Getting to a Debt-Free Life
A Journey Toward being Debt-Free
Budgeting – It’s a Philosophy
I am not a cradle Catholic. I converted after I met my husband. No, I didn’t do it for him. I did it for me, and the seeds that grew into the life in faith I live today were planted long before I met him. He was an enabler, yes. I had thought you might need a hall pass of sorts to enter into the church and sit down in a pew. I didn’t know anything about receiving communion, nor about reciting the prayers. But I learned and my life evolved into one that includes religion in a way I believe is unique to those who have chosen their faith.
Perhaps it is a profound consciousness that sets apart adult converts. Perhaps it is a sense of empowerment and a need to actively live the religious values you’ve chosen so purposefully. Now that I have children, I’ve vowed to share with them a living faith. To me being Catholic isn’t just about my paper that says that I’ve been baptised and confirmed. It isn’t about attending Mass each Sunday. It isn’t about going to confession or observing Holy Days. It is about seeking God around every corner, with every step, and in each breath I take. God is described on paper by so many who attempt well to illustrate who He is. But I believe the most wonderful and exciting way to understand who He is to live each day seeking his love and guidance.
All of our children have been baptized into the Catholic Church. Pie Pie was baptized the other Sunday by the priest at our parish. This was the second baptism service in English I’ve attended. My own was the first. Mini Mister and Little Miss were both baptized at a Korean Church where the rite was performed in Korean and I didn’t understand a thing. It was wonderful to understand what the priest had to say.
Little Pie Pie didn’t cry when the water poured over his head and he put back his little head and closed his eyes as the priest dried his hair. “He’ll be a quiet Catholic,” the priest noted to us. We were blessed by the priest with Pie Pie in our arms, and the community gathered ’round asked that God lend us the strength and courage to help Pie Pie grow in faith.
Mini Mister and Little Miss were there in the front pew, viewing it all. They tend to ask good questions about what goes on during the Mass and about the Liturgical calendar. What is in your mouth? (The host, or communion wine.) What is in the gold box? (The blessed host is kept in the tabernacle.) Is it my turn to put the envelope into the offertory collection basket? So to prepare them for Pie Pie’s baptism, I showed them this demonstration video. We didn’t have the time to act it out ourselves. Even so, the kids were pretty intrigued and I thought it a novel depiction of what baptism means in this world.
Two days before the baptism I realized that poor little Pie Pie didn’t have a white outfit to wear. My husband went to the store and got a cute little embroidered onesie with a cross on the front. But he didn’t come home with any pants. Who makes white pants for a baby? No one. They’d get dirty of course. So, I searched my fabric stash and found a bit of white linen to stitch together into this pair of pants he wore. I can’t think of anything more appropriate for the occasion than a bit of handmade love. It was most certainly God working through my hands. How else would these have been ready in time?
Many times I feel in this world of on-line computer games, Wii’s, Nintendo DS’s, DVDs, TiVos, and DVRs life is quickly becoming on-demand. Our children find a commercial funny, like someone bonks their head for example, and we hear them exclaim, “play it again!” Really? Play commercials again? Now dinner menus, music selections, and playdates with our friends are slipping into the on-demand realm. Though, I am trying strongly to dissuade this perception because it is wise, if not a necessity, to realize that some parts of life cannot possibly be on-demand, like letting your hair grow out. (And now that I type that, I realize that hair extensions are kind of on-demand. Geesh.)
Everyday I feel a strong pull to create. It is something alikened to the earth’s gravitation that pulls my fingers and mind toward baking projects, sewing seams, colorful paints, and soft yarns. I feel centered when I am creating something new and the pace of the world seems to slow just a bit. And with process, technique, and imagination, I can control the on-demand. It becomes, when I demand the project is done. I feel heightened when I’ve accomplished something. I feel productive and strong when I step back and look at the new thing I’ve made. And the challenge, the constant learning, and the problem solving is what keeps my mind and feet moving through the days.
I am hoping to impart a bit of these sensations in my children. To slow a bit. To take a breather. To use one’s brain. And to be creative. Creating can be its own reward. My heart feels full when Mini Mister, or Little Miss come around the corner saying, “look Mama at what I’ve made!” Sometimes it is messy creation that makes me sigh and reach for a dish towel. Sometimes it is a surprising creation that makes me wonder how safe it is to leave it intact. And sometimes it is a silly creation that makes me laugh and congratulate them on a job well done. In the back of my mind, I know that these little beings are capable of way more than a life of “on-demand.”
Please note: the picture below is Little Miss’ piggy.
A couple of weeks ago the church bulletin ran a notice calling for donations of simple sewn dresses. Part of the Operation Starfish Mission, these dress donations will be shipped to Haiti in the fall and given to girls still living in the devistation the earthquake left that destroyed all they owned more than a year ago.
It amazes me that there have been so many catastrophic natural disasters in the news lately. And it also amazed me how quickly I forget about these tonradoes, floods, famine, earthquakes, tsunamis and hurricanes that have left behind such dramatic distruction and loss of life. I am also astounded at the progress reports I am hearing and how much unfinished work is left to truly rebuild and heal.
I was surprised to see a donation can at my local sushi restaurant still appealing for funds to help the earthquake and tsunami victims. (That giant wave swept away the lives of so many less than five months ago.) I was “reminded” by a recent episode of “19 Kids and Counting” about the devestation in Joplin Missouri. (That tornado flattened a swath of life six miles long just a few months ago in May.) After reading the church bulletin, I actually Googled “Haiti 2010″ to remember that it was an earthquake that affected more than 3 million people.)
So, my resolve is now to keep remembering. That isn’t to say dwell in the past, but rather, to keep abreast of what is current. After reading papers like this one, published by British Charitable group Oxfam, I’d say it is safe to say that there is a lot more work to be done to help clean up and rebuild all that was destroyed in Haiti in January, 2010.
 
These are the dresses I sewed this spring for my daughter to wear to church. She refused to don either. Yes, even the Hello Kitty one. And so, they were lovingly folded and packed into a bag to be sent to Haiti so another girl may have a dress for church.
Our church is accepting donations from anyone who sews. To find out more about Operation Starfish and how to send a dress, check here.
I feel most uplifted when I am helping someone who greatly needs assistance. How better to show care, concern, and empathy than to share from your own possession. Maybe if everyone cared about one another enough to remember and give with love, this world would be a better place.
I was driving along with three kids in the car thinking about my To Do list and listening to our Christian radio station. A song about simply being who you are was playing. (Free to be Me by Francesca Battistelli.) She sung “try to fit the pieces together, but perfection is my enemy.” And there was a click in my heart. I just got it. Is my idea of perfection holding me back? I know I abstain from even starting a project if I know it isn’t going to come out perfect. Maybe I should really be living life letting go of what I think “would be perfect.” And rather, I should be seeking what God thinks is perfect for me.
I used to think that perfection was this standard to achieve. Though perfect is usually elusive, certain individuals like Martha Stewart seem to get it right most of the time. It was my mission in life to keep trying, striving, and working harder to get to that imaginary standard. Who says what is perfection? Who sets the bar? Me? Martha? Mass media? Other moms in our Church group perhaps? Peers?
I wondered, while listening to that song, “what if God’s idea of perfection for me is different from what I imagine perfection to be?” Then what? Might I do better to seek out that perfection God wants for me and for my family?”
What if a wallet full of bills, neatly ironed out, not a corner torn, and in serial number order is not what God thinks is perfect? What if instead He thinks that I should give that last worn out one dollar to a stranger a couple cents short on their order? What if a neatly organized, tidy living room is not what God thinks is perfect? What if instead He thinks I should be using my last ounce of strength to comfort fighting children, pull a roasted chicken out of the oven for dinner, and greet my husband home from work with a smile and a positive attitude? Am I ready for all that? Am I ready to let go of what I want to see and seek what God wants for me? Am I capable of accepting that perfect, imperfection? Do I have the faith to fall into His hands and let Him lead?
Maybe with a lot of prayer, self examination, and a strong desire to understand what it is that God thinks is perfect for me, I’ll get there. Spiritual perfection may not be so far away. I wonder where that will take me, though I have a strange feeling that it will be a better place than being stressed out about the material details of this world.
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thank you for stopping by my blog  I am a 35 year old mom to a 4 year old son, a 3 year old daughter, a son born in May, and a wife to my life wonderful. I write in this space when my crafty inspiration strikes or when I get to pondering about how we can live more simply and better connect with the earth around us. We are a family surviving the suburbs, contending with commercialism, and getting to a greener lifestyle. Welcome! ~Abbie a few blogs I like in no particular order Permission © Organizing-Life 2009
All images and designs are property of Organizing-Life. Please do not copy any original designs or photography without written permission. Thank you!
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