Life Long Learning

  The school bell doth toll...this time for ME!  Yep, 45 years old and I'm a backpack toting, Psych 101 studying, note taking, BONAFIDE student.

    Admittedly, this is not the first time I have answered the call of the "bell."  My first college experience was while I was in the Navy, stationed in Spain.  I added English and Ethics courses to my regular duties as a "Squid" overseas.  Not a bad way to break the scholastic ice.  The next time I headed back to school was sheerly for knowledge itself.  I was on a spiritual quest and wanted to know WHY I believed WHAT I believed.  So, off to the Franciscan University of Steubenville I went, with a course load of theology, sociology, and even an acting class (SO much fun!).  I then took time off to apply some of this knowledge in a practical way.
 
   A few years passed before I heard the Diiing...Dooong...ringing a beckon to further knowledge.  I answered with, "Yes please, I'll have a course of Public Speaking with a side order of Principles of Management."  By this time I had a little one to chase around so this was a whole new ball game figuring out how to manage time.  I decided the timing wasn't right to go for my undergrad degree.  However, that was not to be my last attempt. I eventually tried going back when I was the mother of four children.  That trial period lasted one semester of four classes.  Clarity struck when one of my children was standing a mere foot away repeating, "Mommy, Mommy, Mama, Mom..." in an effort to gain my attention. I was bleary-

eyed from staying up til 3:30 A.M., hunched over my keyboard searching for the perfect ending to a history essay assignment when a flashback struck like a lightning bolt. The flashback was a vision of what kind of Mommy I had always thought I'd be and it was in stark contrast with my then current abilities as wife and mother of four kiddos aged six and under, attempting a full time course load.  Aaand...I was expecting again.  That semester was a defining moment, teaching me to "let it go."

  Here I am, 13 years later, not regretting a single moment my choice allowed me.  In fact I'm grateful I had the opportunity to be present to my family, give myself fully to my loves, and live life in the moment.  Though I am far from not being needed as "Mom" (may that never be the case!), the pealing bell summons again.  This time, it's a family affair.

My 6 year old finds neurons interesting...sort of

  My youngest of seven is in first grade and she fakes interest while I describe how the synaptic vessels deliver neurotransmitters.  My seventh grader is willing to discuss the topic of "fake news" with me since we are both currently covering this matter in our respective classrooms, and my tenth grader has volunteered to tutor me in Algebra if need be.  Trust me...if I have to take any math class, the need will definitely BE.


 My husband takes my breath away with his support.  He works hard to help me carve out the necessary time for homework yet balances me with an invite to tuck the younger kids in and say their prayers.  My teens still burst in or quietly wander through the office door and flop in my easy chair to ask questions, share their highs and lows of the day, or willingly be subjected to the latest chapter on Human Behavior.  I never took down the chin-up bar from when my eldest occupied this room so I have a pretty constant call to watch daring feats of strength while I'm memorizing definitions.

60s means heat wave in Erie

  I've learned the way for me to achieve balance is to include my family in my studies and insert my studies where my family is.  This weekend the beautiful weather whispered, well, more like shouted
our names with temperatures in the 60s.  We couldn't let that call go unanswered, so off to the park we went.  I read from the text book while my youngest played on the jungle gym and her older brothers shot hoops.  When she tired of climbing, she asked for a push on the swing.  I readily complied then jumped on the open swing next to her and pumped my legs til my feet touched the sky. We giggled like crazy as butterflies filled our bellies.

  Maybe I needed to be taught more from the school called LIFE before the "school bell" called me back.  I find myself relating what I learn in the classroom to moments I've lived through and I'm grateful for the opportunity to have a deep well of experience to draw from.  Feels like the timing's right.  We shall see.  Diiiing...Doooong.



Holidays bring Strength...without attending gym

  A beautiful Merry Christmas Season to you all!  We are in the phase of this holiday that brings a reminiscent picture to the mind of all that we had thought the festivity of this time of year might bring and are rounding the corner into a look forward at the New Year...

  This year I am reveling in the fact that we are rounding the corner...  Not gonna lie, the home run stretch of this calendar year has been grueling for my family.  My husband, Steve, hurt his back right around the time the scent of sharpened pencils filled the air and big yellow school buses were making a re-appearance after a long summer.  We went through a terrible crisis of not knowing if this injury was THE injury that would not only be the straw that broke the camel's back but might disable my husband's as well.  Time would reveal that his injury was acute and not permanent but his doctor would dictate it was time to find something less stressful on Steve's frame than construction company he spent thirteen years building.  Now, I don't want to focus on the fact that this was supposed to be MY year.  After seventeen years of rearing seven children my youngest was making her scholastic debut by beginning pre-school.  My family and friends had all asked, "Suz, what will you do with your time?" often enough that I had filled my mind with trips to the beach with easel and watercolors in tote, envisioned the toned physique that a free four-hour block five times a week could bring... if I hit the gym.  The possibilities were endless. 

  However, my life-experience should have prepared me for the tough road being paved over my field of dreams.  Don't get nervous-- I'm not going to have a pity party or throw a rant...I've already done that in private...buried under my covers...with a box of tissues....many times.  Yes, while my poor aching hubby's back rested on the couch while healing and his work truck was laid to rest until our eldest could devote his teen angst-driven energy to making it road-worthy I was chauffeur to all, nurse to hubby, and had become the go-to gal for whatever needed answered, mended, cooked, fixed, etc.  I have profound respect for the duties done by single parents.  In the meantime, our faithful Big Blue Chariot decided to pitch a fit and resign from it's duty of carting up to 15 passengers.  As a matter of fact, it flat out resigned without a moments notice and refused to carry even one passenger- which I felt was rude and insensitive.

  With the healing and career change research underway the pressure was mounting and I began to borrow some of the worry that had plagued my husband with sleepless nights.  Decisions needed to be made...life-changing, course-altering choices.  Perhaps that didn't appear to bring us to our knees so our beautiful children thought they could help with that and decided to act their ages...in this profoundly entitled culture.  Honestly, I can't even begin to share some of the "discussions" that I was subjected to...not necessarily involved in.  They did not get the "no rant memo."  I am pleasantly surprised I still have hair and the wrinkles that have been added to my face this year are deepened by loss of elasticity when one loses weight...that is a good thing right?  Lie to me.

  Anyway, interestingly enough...time does have a way of passing and bringing changes- like it or not.  You can be grateful I didn't drag you through the painful details on a daily basis but can announce that Steve did get a job with the City.  He's a few weeks into it so the awkward pangs of change are beginning to subside and he is chipper on most days when I pick him up in my NEW (to me) five passenger car!  I know right?  Dropping 10 passenger seats makes me feel like I'm slimming down in many areas of life. 

  I've learned first-hand and through real-life practicality that the season of Advent, which is the four weeks leading up to Christmas are a time of preparation and not a time to leap headfirst into the Christmas carols, and store ads.  An income-halting injury followed by a jobs lag in pay tends to "help" one focus on patience and preparation.  In retrospect, I can acknowledge these were GIFTS.  Admittedly- these dips and valleys in our journey are not phases we would CHOOSE... yet, as a wise priest said, "I think when you are elderly- you will look back on this time and be grateful for all that came out of these difficulties...it will take some time- probably when you are old and gray."  I appreciated that he acknowledged these WERE difficult times... as well as his assumption I would still have hair when I am old.  The adage seems to prove true: That which doesn't kill us makes us stronger. With all this "resistance training" that has naturally occurred, perhaps having free time to spend in a gym is overrated after all ;)

Mindful Monday

Mindfulness...the word calls to me.  The meaning sings to my soul.  I'm not even sure what it means....fully.  But, I'm on the path to discovering how it will set me free yet keep me grounded at the same time.  I picture it to mean living in the moment, breathing in the possibilities that exist if you can just SEE them right before your clouded eyes.


  Funny how in my mind I frequent the question of "What would I get if I were to ever get a tattoo?"  Interesting...yet not so funny, is that I've considered the word MINDFUL on several occasions.  I think it'd be a great reminder to not let life pass by without marinating in the moment.  To really look at the little people calling, "Mom..Mama... Mommy... Mother... Moooom..." whilst tapping me on the arm as I'm trying to get dinner ready...ok- fine, checking my phone would be more accurate.  I've had the best days when I actually get down on my knees and look in those eyes.  Sometimes it takes them so much by surprise they forget what they were tapping me for in the first place.  I think they just like to say Mommommommommommommom til it's a rhythm in their head and doesn't even sound like a name- when they add the poke or tap that is their contribution to the world of interpretive dance.  It could mean, "I want a cookie, can I color my face with a marker, will you help me with my homework, where is my squirrel trap, can I go to Emma's, why are you laughing, can Brett come over, are you crying, did you know the dog is eating my cookie...can I have another one?"

  I believe being mindful is also about staying in communication with the gentle guiding that leads us throughout our day.  If we can do this we will have accomplished a greater purpose- perhaps followed an intuition that told us to compliment the woman in the gym who wears the Wonder Woman tank and has been completing her laps in record time.  (Yes, I pay attention.) Or maybe it's listening to that soft urging to call my sister and ask how she's been.  Maybe it's to throw the concept of being Mindful out to you- so that you won't miss out on what this day has to offer with all it's surprises and wistful dreams.  We can be mindful together...as long as it's with the understanding I called the tattoo first!

  I'd love to hear what being Mindful means to you- feel free to leave a comment.  You can even picture that you're tracing a note with your finger on my wintry salt-crusted van...if it's longer than the average "wash me" you may want to pretend I've left a scroll of paper  with a pencil dangling from a twine cord for you to leave me a note...  if you have any desire to write on your face with marker- I'll even loan you the word Mindful--though just for today- however, if you should choose to do this...please post a picture as well.

Football and Family (by Diane Gallagher)

(Guest Blogger Wednesday:) In the Gallagher house, Fall means football (participating, watching and Fantasy leagues), closing the pool, a return to homework, raking leaves, picking apples, Octoberfest at St. Joseph’s, cross country and Halloween.  As we near summer’s official end and prepare for one of my favorite seasons, I look at my calendar and shudder…not just from the cooler temperatures.  Our schedule is insane (I know many of you can relate).  Even though we only allow the kids to be in one organized event at a time, we still have 7 children.  Take my word for it – it adds up to many games, practices, rehearsals, lessons and functions.  I have heard experienced parents express that they feel like a taxi or bus, but I can officially declare the same sentiment for the first time.  My husband and I can truly be like ships passing in the night.  Where are we supposed to find family time in the midst of all this craziness?  In our house, it demands a lot of give and take AND a little creativity.

My boys and husband are big football fans.  As a result, a couple of years ago they all participated in a fantasy football league which has now expanded into a lively group composed of good friends and even myself!  I was hesitant to take a team, but my husband encouraged me to, and I have been pleasantly surprised.   It has become a bonding experience with my boys as we conduct the draft together (they give their uneducated mother some helpful hints) and then have to set our teams each week.  More often than not, one of my boys is sitting at the computer asking me who I want to put into the lineup each week while I wash dishes or sweep the kitchen floor.  Prior to my participation in Fantasy Football, I would not have surmised that this activity would be in my future, but I am glad I was willing to put aside my own ideas of how I would like to spend family time and be open to new adventures.  My girls, on the other hand, are not interested in football in the least bit unless it involves attending a game where they can play with friends and dine at the concession stand.  To foster their excitement in the sport, we planned a little party for just our family on Sunday.  The girls helped me prepare a smorgasbord of processed, unhealthy appetizers for the afternoon that they then served to the “men” who were glued to the TV screen.  Once all appetites were satiated, the girls’ excitement wore off and we had to resort to a game of Life until the end of the Brown’s game… but it was a nice family moment until then.  I admit that we have not been faithful to conducting family nights on a weekly or even biweekly basis….and our monthly events are not on any set schedule.  We can sometimes feel like failures in this area when we witness those families who are more disciplined.  But we do attempt to have dinner as a family whenever possible, attend Sunday Mass as a unit and try to find some events that all members enjoy on various levels like our Fantasy Football League and football party.  The boys will make their compromise when we all (sans the little ones) attend Les Miserables at the Playhouse in a couple weeks or when we go apple picking and can our apple sauce sometime in October.   Believe me, they will complain and say they do not want to participate, but I assert with 90% certainty that they will enjoy it and be grateful for these memories in the years to come.  When we are willing to compromise and be creative as a family, all sorts of new possibilities arise -- through football or the French Revolution. :)   

Dust Bunnies??? You Got Nothin' on Me...

My husband is a contractor.  We gutted our current house WHILE we moved into it (still shuddering).  This was five years ago and we are still under construction.  Therefore it shouldn't surprise anyone that a dumpster appeared in our driveway six days ago and our kitchen disappeared from our home two days ago.  Well, most of it...there IS still a bit of ceiling and lathe and horsehair plaster waiting patiently to make their swan-dive into said dumpster.

  While my cupboards are gone and my dishes have been relocated to the dining room buffet...my dining room table is GROANING, "Why me???"  Because this poor, piled piece of furniture has taken the brunt of kitchen utensil refugees needing to be re-settled.  I feel like defending the state of my home by asking "Doesn't everybody have to step over a toaster oven on the way to the bathroom?" but that's just silly...I do really think the Tupperware shoved into the black soup pot does kind of make the desk "POP." Brings out the lustrous shine of oak patina...maybe I'm on to something...or not.

  Yesterday,our hometown's humidity was heavy enough to make even the anti-winter die-hards pray for a blizzard.  Stress doesn't begin to label the "irritable, grouchy, heavy-sweating, over-crowded dining and living rooms, no kitchen, can't find the stupid toaster-oven" mood that had covered our "haven."  My husband, Steve, and I had just finished an uncharacteristic "snarky" loud exchange (in front of kids...I know-so ashamed) before I walked out on the porch to escape with my morning breakfast of oatmeal, coffee, and a book.  I crossed to the patio table thankful to have a fenced in yard so I didn't have to do an army-man-crawl to avoid the neighbors catching glimpse of my pink nightie at 11a.m.  Everyone that knows me well, knows that I do not operate well in extreme heat.  Add humidity to the heat and we have an emotional "Perfect Storm."  I was grumbling about Steve going dove hunting with the boys while we were surrounded by demolition fall-out so I didn't hear the first high-pitched "Hellllllooooooo" that accompanied an unfamiliar silver car pulling in the driveway.  I was the epitome of the deer in headlights.  I know I've mentioned our 15 passenger blue van in previous posts...well, I wanted to hug or dive for cover behind it for the dignity it would save while the silver car did a turn around then kept moving.  I prayed this friendly lost soul would just need directions for a destination unknown.  I was caught...I was a glistening, red-faced, jammie cladden woman escaping a war zone.  I had been spotted...but I could still justify throwing my oatmeal and scurrying back inside to get Steve to deal with this.  With my hand on the door handle I heard the unmistakable voice of my mother..."Helllooooooo Suuusie!  Do you have tea?"  Uh..I stammered.  We..my..ther... "Mom, is that you?" was all I could manage to the woman hanging with waving arms out of the passenger door.  Kids appeared from the lathe and plaster destruction inside to yell, "Gramma's here!"

  I disappeared inside for a moment then returned with a feeble hello and an explanation we had just ripped our kitchen out...so our house wasn't exactly presentable.  I instantly felt bad that my mother and her friend from church looked uncomfortable...though maybe the look was about my paisley green and blue robe I had ran for while kids circled Gramma.  There was a bit of chit chat while they suggested I stand in the shade from the large van.  Hmmm, was my glistening forehead that apparent...or maybe it was the scent of an overheated woman about to go over the edge??  She's gonna blooow....like a hot potato that hasn't been pierced with a fork to let the steam out.  My mother and her friend were wonderfully kind in their desire to put me at ease and after all, they had no idea what space I had been in.

  Either way...they didn't stay long...and I managed to eat my oatmeal without grossing myself out to much worrying about if a fly had landed on it. As I ate my "brunch" I thought of how Mother Teresa had visited a woman's hut of a home.  The woman was all smiles as she welcomed her guest into her dirt floored abode.  Mother Teresa learned from that and shared that we never have to apologize for our house..it is our home!  I can't imagine what I would have done if Mother Teresa had pulled in my driveway yesterday morning (besides for obvious reasons) but my own mother arriving unannounced with a guest was enough of a challenge.  I suppose it's a lesson for me to remember it's all about the smile that welcomes...not the house. I went back in the house and joined the social media avenue of apologizing to Steve- via texts- kinda fun without the emotional drama...we were able to be silly with each other (smiley faces can work magic). 

  Today, I'm sitting in my home..not a whole lot has changed...humidity still has me sweating...but there is a Peace, that might have a little to do with six children being in school, but mostly due to accepting that this too shall pass...and double bonus: I get to make you feel VERY GOOD about the state of your own home!!

GLAMOUR-ish...

  I've learned a thing or two about style and chic "expression of self" with clothing.  Pretty much that thing or two I've learned boils down to one fact: that style and chic-ness have no place in my current lifestyle.  Now wait, all of you jumping to the conclusion that I'm a fan of the "letting myself go" ensemble---this simply is not so.  I have merely learned that as a mother of seven it is, ummmmm...impractical shall we say, to shop with a mother of one child who is over the age of seven and listen to her advice on what is "cute and sassy."

  One example of my sister's (did I just nark on her?...oh YES I DID!) fashionista advice is when she held up a royal purple (jewel tones were ALL the rage of the season) tank top with GLAMOUR emblazoned across the chest in rhinestones.  "Oh Sus," she gushed, "this is soooo cute!  You could totally dress this up or wear it casual.  You have to get this!"  I could see the red-carpet version of me sashaying up to all of my Cosmopolitan friends (other Mom's with humongous vans and enormous grocery lists) in this sparkly top.  Yes!  This jewel of a shirt was created for me...I must own this glamorous tank!  And so I did.  Yes sir, I whipped out my credit card and purchased my very own slice of Vogue!  I am woman...hear me roar...or at least watch me glitter!

  One month and a few errant attempts at dressing up my high-fashion tank later, I was sitting on our back deck while wearing my precious purchase in the high noon sun.  I was sweltering in the summer heat while watching my kids ride bikes, run their Popsicle sugar-high off , and have no-nap melt-downs (Warning: this type of melt-down is enough to make a grown man cry...ask my husband .)  I could feel the perspiration beading on my nose while my bangs had slowly become plastered to my forehead.  I was irritable, tired from chasing children and putting out argumentative fires.  I hung my head to shield my face from the cruel solar-rays unhindered by my shadeless yard.  It must have been the 100 watt glare of reflected sunshine off my classy rhinestones that drew my attention to the irony of my un-ironed shirt...GLAMOUR.  My shoulders slumped and then slowly began to shake from my laughter as I thought, "Oh yeah baby- I'm livin' the high life!  Especially with that particular smattering of baby food on my midsection:
 I  WAS:  G L A M O U R O U S!!!"

  I went in and changed my shirt and thought "That does it!  It is time to trust myself.  I will no longer listen to the voice that tells me a Hawaiian print tankini is a good fit for my annual Cook Forest tube down the river!"  I probably should have had the foresight to guess that I would be catapulted from my tube by a rapid which would have the tankini (which should have been a TANK-MUMU!) top exposing my  midsection, which is never pretty when bordered by Hawaii's tropical flowers in bright reds with puce colored leaves...I know...I should have known.  No, I will not bow to the pressure that black patent-leather shoes with three inch heels and chains across the top are not only fashionable to wear at the mall, but will also be a good staple for "nights out."  I truly felt my toes were being stabbed by staples during one date night...which tragically ended up with hubby and I strolling the local aisles at Wegman's grocery market...eventually with me in my bare feet.  And who wants to wear heels while pushing a double stroller and wearing a baby in a sling? Not me...not anymore.

  Sorry, sis, I can no longer deny my favorite athletic shoe aisle.  I won't cower in shame when you leap out from behind the track-suit rack and shout, "A-ha!"  I WILL own my non-Cosmo, must-be-comfy, stretchy due to the slightest bit of spandex, cotton fabric with a powerful sigh of relief!  And maybe...just maybe...I will slip that Glamour tank on under my sweatshirt just to remember what was...and giggle at the contrast to what has become of my life-STYLE ;)
 

Blessed Relief

The humidity was oppressive.  My clothing felt heavy and damp with perspiration.  Every inch of my hair was pulled back with elastic and bobby pin but even those attempts to stop the beads of sweat covering my forehead were weak at best.  My sole companion of the blistering weekend was a spry Sister of Mercy in her seventies.  She wore a veil, blouse, and skirt without the hint of a grimace as she led me in conversation and meditations to ponder during our times apart.  One highlight of our time together keeps returning to my mind: we were walking through one of the rooms in the Mercy mother house when an unexpected breeze came through the open screened doors.  "Oh Blessed relief!" was Sister's simple comment.  This phrase accompanied my gasp of delight and pretty much summed up the short-lived removal of our moisture-laden circumstance.  I don't even think Sister was aware she uttered the words...maybe she was.

  That day was a few weeks ago and that very moment comes to my mind now as I struggle with an inability to fall back asleep...yes, note the time of 5:15...awake since 3:20 a.m.  I first tossed and turned trying to return to that unencumbered state of sleep.  Then I simply lay and stared at the shadows made by the ceiling fan on the ceiling.  "What are these?" I asked of the slow rambling incoherent rivers coursing through my mind.  "These are your thoughts," I answered "let me introduce you to them."  It was then I was reminded of the "Blessed relief" moment.  There I lay in complete silence able to hear and explore thoughts as they burst then faded and dimmed into my consciousness- "Oh blessed relief!"  This was a stark contrast from a snapshot minute in our home earlier this evening: my 11-year-old daughter changing her two-year-old sister's diaper asking "did you lick your hand, why did you lick your hand?"  while our 10-year-old daughter tapped danced on a sheet of bubble wrap to the music of our five-year-old and eight-year-old sons disagreement on whose lacrosse stick was stronger, my husband was vocally searching for his new reading glasses that he had JUST bought and lay down RIGHT THERE!, while our 12-year old son continued to adjust to his new medication and moaned and whimpered for the "sicky bucket" (poor kid...I hate nausea too.) 

  As I pondered this contrast between the lively exchanges and the current state of our homes stillness, a breeze rustled through the window eye-level to the head of my bed.  I merely had to roll over and look out the window to witness the tranquility of the trickling waterfall-pond my husband created to be heard where I lay.  There was a gentleness to the soft brass wind chimes that occasionally rang while the breeze lifted the monstrous leaves of the sunflower plants which had surprised us with their stalky height where they sprouted up around of our water feature...good pond water I guess.  I figure you'll think I'm making up the fact that the solar flowers placed amidst the beach wood and river rocks were still doing their own lighted glow-dim-fade dance...but I'm not.  I couldn't stand the beauty of the moment without being able to share it---so I slipped from my bed to write and share it with you.  And now after type-type-typing, "yaaaaawn," I am tired again and ready to fall back asleep---"Oh Blessed relief!"

I'm Meeeelltiiing!

Yep...the very observant words of the Wicked Witch on The Wizard of Oz signaled her collapse under the powers of H2O.  I'm more than a little curious why my five year old son couldn't be that concise during his most recent "melt-down" at Waldameer (local amusement park) today.  "I'm hot," followed by thrashing and pulling on the stroller which caused me to feel a few beads of sweat of my own were his words of choice during one stressful wait for a ride.  Then there was the "I waaant to plaaaay the dart game," which would have been my cue to signal the flying monkeys to carry him off as he kicked at my leg and tugged at my shirt.  But, truly I was so busy avoiding any possible eye contact with the overcrowded population circling the Steel Dragon I probably would have mixed up my primate language and ended up with King Kong...and I was way to cranky to be hoisted up the Empire State building anyway...

  Today was our parish picnic at the park and though I should have found comfort in the throngs of people being "cut of the same cloth" I found the thought of being "in the spotlight" to be a little overwhelming as my son challenged my every directive.  So, I guess this is me taking to the "electronic pen" to explain my son---and myself.  We have recently received the second diagnosis of Autism disorder within the ranks of our seven children.  There may be more coming.  We've been hot on the trail of what has been causing so much discord within our home.  Let me be clear that both of our children who hold this diagnosis are VERY high functioning so that to the unaware eye they would appear as a bratty, mean spirited child.  The reality I'm discovering is that autistic children often do not have the tools to communicate what is bothering them so they react in unexpected ways to get the message across they are not happy, comfortable, feeling secure, etc.  Though I'm ecstatic that my kids appear "normal" there is little about them to signal the WHY behind the tantrums, panic, screams, or fits of rage.  Shoot, I gave birth to and lived with my boys for years without understanding this, being completely baffled by their responses- so I get it.  I am just a little at a loss on how I should behave when I'm feeling a bit judged or my children are misunderstood.  I refuse to label them---though a huge white sign on the back just might have people nodding their heads and saying "Ahaa- that explains it."  There is still much I need to learn to survive these years while my family and I educate ourselves... but in the meantime- please- if you see a parent interacting with/or ignoring a full-blown melt-down think twice before dousing with water (unless ruby slippers are involved) but perhaps do offer that nod of "I understand."  You just might be the sanity that brings Peace and saves the day...feel free to carry red cape with you!

Out of Control (by Diane Gallagher)

 Guest Blogger Wednesday :) The older my children get, the more I feel “out of control.”  Out of control of their preferences, their choice of friends, their bedrooms etc...  Granted, I still can “control” their actions by grounding them from x-box, tv, and other electronics, but I have very little to say about how they truly feel on the inside….and that is a scary feeling.  I look at their individual personalities, strengths and weaknesses and yes, I sometimes see Jim and I mirrored in them, for better or worse.  They also possess traits that neither Jim nor I exhibit, for better or worse.J  I suppose it is the whole nature vs. nurture phenomenon.  Even though my older children are only at the middle school/junior high level, they are beginning to develop crushes, particular tastes in music, and want to choose their own styles in clothing, etc.  It is so hard for me to shut my mouth and stifle the lectures as I desperately try to impose my preferences on them.  How challenging it is to let them be who God created them to be which may be very different from what I was expecting.  The whole process requires balance and prayer, as I’ve written in previous blogs, in order to determine which battles to fight, which causes are worth it, and which issues are salvation issues.

One small example of this is occurring in our household right now with my eldest son (I am fully aware that these issues get bigger as the kids grow up….can’t wait!)  He is a big music fan, often times preferring songs that would not be on the Christian music charts.  In fact, he is not really crazy about Christian music period, much to my disappointment.  I have purchased the WOW cd’s (a compilation of the top Christian hits of the years from various artists) so he could listen to a variety of music and scoured the iTunes store with him to try to come up with some songs he might like.  Unfortunately, he has found only one song that he has actually downloaded onto his iPod.  Our last ditch effort is coming up this weekend:  my husband, who is not a huge Christian music fan himself but sees the merit in it, is taking my three boys to the Creation Music Festival.  They will campout in our tent, eat over the fire, participate in some “extreme” sports – and listen to a plethora of Christian artists from every musical genre possible.  We figure that this might spark some greater interest in our boys, particularly our eldest, to see the musicians live in concert and get caught up in the festival hype.  Then it is time to let go.  Surrender.  It is out of our control. We have to allow our children to be themselves … not little Jim and Diane robots.  I realize that every parent will have a different limit that is between themselves, God and the child before they relinquish control.  “As long as you are living under my roof ” kind of thing.  It is so important to have those standards until our children reach adulthood.  The trick is to determine when we need to enforce and when we need to relinquish.  Forcing my son to “like” certain music is probably not going to be very effective.  I can tell him he is not allowed to download music with bad language or messages and he may not watch music videos that are inappropriate, but I cannot force my musical tastes on him.  This is when I must remember that my children are only mine temporarily.  They are gifts from God for my husband and I to raise and nurture the best we can, but they are ultimately His.  I must entrust them to Him….easy to say but hard to do.  The more I let myself move out of the driver seat, the more I can relax as a passenger.  It’s actually quite freeing to be “out of control.” J

"A" For Effort (by Diane Gallagher)

Guest blogger Wednesday : )

Before the end of the school year, I went to an academic awards ceremony honoring the highest achievers in 5^th and 6^th grade children in each subject.  I admit that I was hesitant to make this ceremony a priority as I was uncertain if my boys would win.  Having the three little ones with me, I definitely make choices and don’t get to all of the school events.  Regardless, I chose to attend and was glad that my boys’ names were called a couple times for various acknowledgments (and the smiles on their faces when they looked over at me made the effort worth itJ).  What pleased me even more was that the staff was not just honoring those with highest achievement, but they also gave an award in each subject to those who made the greatest effort.  I am a sucker for effort.  Whether as a teacher back in my pre-“married with children” days or as a mother in my current state of life, I respond much better to a child who makes great effort but fails than I do to the one who does something half-heartedly and somehow achieves success. 

Now, as a mother I often feel like a total failure…sometimes because I lose my temper or I am unhappy about how I handle a situation, other times because my children do something embarrassing or thoughtless that could not possibly have happened if his/her mother was a good parent!   But as I reflected on the academic awards in effort, I found great solace.  I have always told my children and friends that while I may only receive a “D” in achievement as a parent, I most definitely get an “A” for effort.  My husband and I have tried more discipline plans, more chore charts, more prayer schedules than one could fathom.  We have read books (not always so helpful…refer to earlier blogJ), gone on diets or tried to determine what we need to do to improve ourselves so we can be better, more patient parents. I wake up early to pray and put on the armor of God before the battles begin each day. We have joined bible studies, implemented new strategies…all to be better parents or bring more peace/order/faithfulness/love to our family life.   But we forget to keep track of the chores, and we lose our temper when they delete our videos off our flipcam or smash our ipad (true stories), and we let them watch too much TV or play too much X-box sometimes.  Then there’s that cookie I let my 2 yr. old eat right before dinner because I just can’t handle one more tantrum.  Not so successful in the world’s eyes.  Fortunately, Mother Theresa reminded us that “God doesn’t ask us to be successful ... just faithful.”  So I will not give up, though I am tempted to sometimes.   I will appreciate those occasional successes when a parent tells me how well-mannered and kind my son is or one of them gets 1^st honors or wins the student council elections.  And I will try not to crawl into a hole when my neighbor calls to tell me my son was climbing on the roof of our house or my 2 yr. old is running around naked in the front yard. “God doesn’t ask us to be successful, just faithful.”  I am faithful.  I know He is pleased with my attempts in spite of my failures, and I do believe He would give me an “A” for effort (though I might have a checkmark next to conduct).  I guess there’s always room for improvement!

Enjoy Your Children (by Diane Gallagher)

Guest blogger Wednesday :)

“Enjoy your children!”  These were the gentle yet firm words spoken to me by my spiritual director on more than one occasion.  Enjoy them?  How the heck am I supposed to do that?  I can easily be exhausted by them…or frustrated… or embarrassed by them….or get angry with them.  But enjoy them?  I have to cook and clean and do laundry and homework and change diapers and go grocery shopping and tend sick kids and pay bills.  Just exactly when am I supposed to enjoy them?  Having a children ranging in age from 1 to 12 also provides a challenge.  How do I do fun things with them that will satisfy the entertainment meter of my 5 yr old glamour girl and my 12 yr old “air soft freak” as he calls himself?  An impossible task, or so it would seem.  The perfectionist in me wants to come up with creative activities to do with my kids so we can “enjoy” each other (I used to do this more often when I just had my 3 boys).  Now I have no energy for creative activities.  It seems I am so task oriented that I take every free moment to get more work done.  I actually have to force myself to sit down and “play” with my kids sometimes (other than night and naptime stories or walks to our neighborhood park).  I think this is partially because I set my standards for enjoyment too high.  I do not need to have an afternoon to go to a movie with my boys.  How about 10 minutes to talk while I am doing dishes and my 9 yr old is sharing about his latest dodge ball game in gym class.  Or 15 minutes to play one round of Candyland with my 3 and 5 yr olds instead of trying to carve out a couple hours to go to a princess dance party.  These bigger events can be fun and important too, but I don’t need to forego the small ones just because I am attempting to plan the bigger ones, which are much less frequent.  To me, enjoying my children means laughing with them, appreciating their good qualities and talents, taking time to just be with them and come to know them better.  I know I will be sad one day that I didn’t take time to do this more.  The dishes will always be there.   I am looking forward to taking a cake decorating class with my 11 yr. old son, but I also need to appreciate watching my 7 yr old blast her way down the soccer field and my 1 yr old waddle across our kitchen floor clutching a cereal box that is as big as she is.  Enjoyment comes in many forms and that is my challenge – to find ways to enjoy each one of my children every day even if that means peeking in their bedrooms at the end of a long day and smiling upon their sleeping faces.  After all, St. Therese said “does a parent love their children any less when they are sleeping?  No, sometimes even more!” 

Footnote:  It was the end of a long, busy day and I was finally sitting down with a glass of wine, my paper and pen.  I was actually going to attempt to write my blog a little early and in a peaceful environment!  I was about half way through when my 11 year old shuffled in the room and asked if he could sit on my lap.  My first reaction (sadly) was to say no because I wanted to finish my writing, and I was on a roll.  Before the words could come out of my mouth, I realized that this was an opportunity to put my money where my mouth is and to take a moment to enjoy my son.  He does not sit on my lap often as it is usually filled by my 1 yr. old, 3 yr old or 5 yr old.  This was a rare moment to cherish, not brush off.  So I put my paper and pen down and enjoyed 5 minutes snuggling and chatting with my son, and then he was ready to move on.  I am so glad I made the right choice… and writing this blog is what helped me make itJ

TOADally Gross!

  Another true tale from the front line over here.

We've had our share of battles with fish tanks.  Our most disastrous was undoubtedly the 55 gallon tank springing a leak on our home office desk.  The leak was noticed about 2 minutes before the silicon seal gave way to a tidal wave soaking everything within a 5 foot radius.  I'm not exaggerating- it was probably a ten foot radius but I didn't want to over calculate and give away my poor geometry skills.  Suffice it to say even after suctioning with a wet/dry vac and saturating every bath towel we own their was still plenty of water left to drain through our hardwood floor creating a rainfall into the basement.  Poor fish- startled would probably not even begin to cover their "freak out" mode.  Not only had their environment been "disturbed" but the giant mouths and noses normally pressed up to the glass are now screaming and flaring.  If these fish spoke English they would understand how futile a command, "GET THE MOP!" really was.  I do believe these finned creatures were placing bets with their amphibian bookies over which was the worst fate: a) gasping for water to fill their gills while laying belly up on fluorescent pebbles while your buddies are clinging to life behind the fake castle where there's a tiny tide pool OR b) actually being caught by the Tupperware cup scoopers digging into those stupid fluorescent pebbles then being tossed into a Coleman cooler in the bathtub.

  It is my firm belief those amphibian bookies took the bets because they saw an even more terrifying string of events looming in the future.  Who knew slimy, webbed foot beings were clairvoyant?

Turns out the fish were fine...the amphibians in the 20 gallon tank resting on the boys room dresser upstairs...not so much.  "Toad"ally different story- sorry to keep "hopping" around- I don't mean to th-"wart" your focus.  Stick with me, I promise you'll find this story a "tad" (pole...get it?  I know, I don't want it either!) absolutely ribbeting..I mean riveting! (boooooo. stink!)

  A year after the living room flood Our 12 year old Stevie decided to add to his collection of three fire-bellied toads by introducing a couple small bullfrogs.  Now, I am aware Stevie is the master of all things Animal so I didn't second guess his blowing off my concern that the bullfrogs might try to eat the smaller toads.  Stevie was proud of the non-aggressive habitat he'd expanded.  Weeks later my son stomped up the stairs to show me his latest catch... a bullfrog approximately the size of a water buffalo.  Ok- slight exaggeration, however, the body alone truly was the diameter of a softball. Stevie grasped the bullfrog around it's belly and the legs dripped down to his elbow.  I followed him to the tank murmuring my concern about such a large hungry-looking frog being placed in close proximity to smaller toads.  I think my choice of words being "Isn't their a pecking order?" canceled any authority on amphibians I might have won had I said food chain.  Stevie plopped the monster in and I was struck by it's resemblance to Jabba the Hut- the slug looking giant of Star Wars fame.  (Go ahead and Google Jabba the Hut.  You'll be able to picture this frog!)

 Less than 24 hours later Stevie was rushing across the street in alarm to where his father was working.  His calm belied his words as he said, "Look Dad, I think it's time we harvest the Big One." He held up Jabba who had two little bullfrog legs dangling from it's clamped, wide mouth.  I'm only slightly ashamed to admit I was bummed to have missed it.

 One would think after having dinner rudely ripped from one's mouth and being given a second chance at life one might learn a lesson.  However, I suppose not if that one is a humongous, cannibalistic, greedy bullfrog who just ate the whole tanks supply of crickets!

A mere few hours later our family came to a halt as the cry for help bounced off the boy's bedroom walls!  A line literally formed as five of our nine members rushed to see the reason for the distressed call.  We were not to be disappointed.  We watched in fascinated horror as Dad sprung into action grabbing Jaba by the legs and whapping him "gently" against the tempered glass wall of the tank.  About three jarring "this is for your own good" love taps into the ordeal the beast's mouth rebelliously slackened and one of the prized fire belly toads limply slithered out.  I can not even begin to imagine that poor toad's state of mind.  I suppose Jonah of the Bible could probably enlighten us a bit...

I won't go into details but suffice it to say another little line formed around the fire pit in the backyard as "frog legs" were harvested.

P.S.  No actual Star Wars characters were harmed in the telling of this story.

Balance (by Diane Gallagher)

Guest blogger Wednesday :)

Balance  – “an even distribution of weight enabling something or someone to remain upright and steady.”  Upright and steady, huh?  Sometimes I feel hobbled over from the weight of the world and quite wobbly from the daily roller coaster ride I am on.  I love the idea of being emotionally upright and steady.  The trick is that in order for me to feel balanced, I need to live a balanced life:  in my eating, my prayer life, my physical activity, my labor, my recreation (with kids and spouse) and my rest.  Don’t get me wrong – there are times when the scale is tipped to one side because it has to be.  For example, when I began a much needed diet to shed 13 years of pregnancy weight, I took some more extreme measures.  Balance was not achieving the results I needed to stay motivated so I followed a strict eating regimen and counted daily points.  During Lent, the scales are often tipped spiritually as we spend more time in Church, in prayer and in fasting.  And that is a good thing.  Someone training for a marathon (not a realistic dream for me) has to tip the exercise scale while she trains and focuses on getting her body in shape.  For a season. 

To peacefully live through the daily grind with the plethora of demands placed on me, I realize that a steady and upright Diane is best achieved through balance.  See, if I remained obsessed with my diet, I pour too much of my time and energy into this one area of my life at the expense of the others.  Or if I become too focused on getting my work done around the house (it never is), then I do not take the time to relax with my husband or I sacrifice my sleep. Let me reiterate that it is absolutely necessary to tip the scales at times…like last week when we were preparing for my son’s 1^st Holy Communion.  I spent every spare moment getting ready and definitely sacrificed sleep and cooking healthy meals (we went for simple instead).  But on a regular basis, balance works best for me:  daily morning and night prayer, exercising on the elliptical 3 – 4 times a weeks, allowing myself some treats without gorging on the whole package of Oreos, creating a realistic meal plan each week keeping in mind cost, time of meal preparation and tastes of my family members.  I have even learned to do couponing in moderation.  It would be so easy to spend hours looking for coupons or going from store to store in search of savings.  It is tempting, but not for me.  I spend about an hour planning my list and gathering coupons… and then I go to one store.  I may not be getting the best deals every week, but I have to balance the savings with the gas money and time spent driving around that I could be used for other things that would ultimately bring more peace to my day. 

For me, as a Catholic Christian, I constantly have to turn to God to ask for His help in finding and maintaining this highly sought after balance … and to let me know when I need to go off balance for a season or rearrange my priorities that have gone askew.  Sometimes He lets me know this just by the anxiety that will well up inside when I am out of whack.  Other times, the nudge might come from without – my husband or sisters or friends.  Balance is not a reality I achieve once and then have it forever.  It is a daily process but a goal that my husband and I truly desire.  As with most things, we are not always successful in achieving our goal, and occasionally we need to hold the other upright when the weight becomes too heavy and we are leaning to one side.  It is all part of the daily effort toward balance. Ultimately I have found that a more balanced mama is a happier mama…and I think it is safe to say that my husband and children all appreciate thatJ

Live It:  Keep track of what you spend your time on for one week…. Then look it over and see where your scales are tipped right now and how you might need to readjust.  Might be interesting.

Just a quick side note: Quick story…I stopped in at Confession today having already written my blog. After I confessed my myriad of sins including impatience and temper, the priest encouraged me to find more time for recreation and relaxation “prudently incorporated into my day.”  He felt that because I was running from one thing to another all day and not having much down time, I was probably more on edge and quicker to respond impatiently.  I smiled.  As you can see, I need to read my blog againJ  Just keep swimming, just keep swimming…