Each New Year

I've got so many ideas swirling around in my head that I want to get down before they're gone. I've got a few quiet moments while MJ is playing by the fire and Thomas is still dozing from our grocery store trip this morning. We're recovering from a flu bug that plagued us for the last few days and today I think (pray) that we've emerged victorious. So I've got lots of "to dos" on my list to get back on track but I don't want to miss taking the time to get a few words down for each of you.

Quiet moments of the divine.

There has been an article circling around Facebook among my parent friends about the difficulties of parenting and the frustration when older people tell you to "Seize the day and enjoy these young moments".  It clearly resonates with most moms and it is a lovely piece, but I also read an article titled "To the mother of only one child" today.  This is a piece from that article that really hit home with me:

"I’m broken in.  There’s no collision of worlds.  We’re so darn busy that it’s a sheer delight to take some time to wash some small child’s small limbs in a quiet bath, or to read The Story of Ferdinand one more time.  Taking care of them is easy.  It’s tiring, it’s frustrating, but when I stop and take a breath, I see that it’s almost like a charade of work.  All these things, the dishes, the diapers, the spills—they must be taken care of, but they don’t matter. They aren’t who I am.

To become a mother, I had to learn how to care about someone more than I did about myself, and that was terrible.  But who I am now is something more terrible:  the protector who can’t always protect; the one with arms that are designed to hold, always having to let go.

Dear mother of only one child, don’t blame yourself for thinking that your life is hard.  You’re suffering now because you’re turning into a new woman, a woman who is never allowed to be alone.  For what?  Only so that you can become strong enough to be a woman who will be left.

When I had only one child, she was so heavy.  Now I can see that children are as light as air.  They float past you, nudging against you like balloons as they ascend."

I don't know if when you grow up you will have a child or children (either by choice or by fact of life), but I want you to know that while you WERE children I did honestly treasure each moment. Even the hard ones. 

Two nights ago when Finn was in the throws of the flu, he was weeping and asking if God made people get sick. He asked this to me as he collapsed into bed with buckets and towels around him about 45 minutes after we arrived home from a quick trip to the lake. James was traveling for work, it was 8:45 on a school night, the kitchen was piled high with the scattered contents of the car. I took a deep breath and this is what I told him: That's a tough question, Finn.  I don't think that God makes us get sick, but I do think that sometimes sickness gives us the opportunity to see God a little more clearly.  For example, Mr. Finn, when you walked into the house and got sick, Seamus made sure to get all your toys out of the car for you. He raced back and forth from the very cold car to the kitchen unpacking with a worried face. Once I got you cleaned up and I was trying to get your clothes and towels into the laundry, Seamus offered to read you all stories while I was scrambling. I suggested we switch beds for the night so you didn't have to be on the top bunk and everyone immediately agreed. And now I'm looking at you and I can see how miserable you feel but also how grateful you are for me right now. I can feel how much you love me - and so this icky flu gave us this moment to rise to the occasion, to appreciate each other and to see a bit of God in each others' eyes. 

MJ's portrait of me.

I think what's been hitting me a lot lately is that I am so grateful for my life  - every aspect of it - our warm house today, the gift of a full cart of healthy groceries, these moments when I can write to future you - that even the tough stuff seems small in comparison.  We know a lot of people who have battled real sickness lately.  Kirsten and baby G are fighting cancer together (and doing well - but that doesn't make it any easier).  My friend Connie, Paula's sister was just diagnosed with cancer in her colon, liver, lung and pelvis and she's facing a hard road. All the people we know who are struggling even having that one child. I think about our Toms all the time. Life is short and sometimes death is sudden. And what it does to me isn't about creating fear - its about recognizing that I don't know if I'll be an old woman who can look back at these years with nostalgia, I obviously hope that I do, but I will honestly say that I missed very few moments to be grateful that I have you. To be grateful that I have your dad.  I wish very few moments away - because someday I'm afraid I'll want them all back. 

Best friends.

Here's the thing, running around the house the other night and even during our cabin get away, I realized something critical. I need you all. I couldn't have gotten everything clean up and pulled together without MJ entertaining Thomas, Seamus running back and forth from the car, and everyone doing the best to not fall apart. I told daddy the next day that I realize I am not always an easy person to help, but you kids seem to have the key and that is another thing for which I am grateful.

Seamus, you're starting 2012 with your typical bright eyes. Swimming is already fun and I think this will be a big year for you to grow and improve. You made your first reconciliation last week and it was a wonderful, special night. You were excited and nervous, but afterward you even seemed taller. You asked me at the cabin when we could go again and I said as soon as you want, so we're going to try and go to mass and confession some morning next week. Forgiveness is such a unique thing - it is wonderful to see you discover how good it feels to forgive and be forgiven. Remember that always.

Finn, this year is full of exciting firsts and so far your enjoying them all. You were nervous about swim team, but apparently that was all gone the moment you got in the pool.  You're loving it and I guess I'm surprised that you shook off your fears so quickly. You are always my surprising child. You are also so full of love right now - so many times in the last few days you've hugged me almost to death. Your big, brown eyes are so expressive.  I see love in you so often - and it fills me up.

Recovering from the Flu - but still her perky self.

Miss MJ, you found a special core of sweetness last year that carried me through my pregnancy in ways that you'll probably never fully understand. Your ability to be gentle and kind (and quiet) just when I needed it helped me so much. And for as sweet as you've become you are still a force of nature.  It is -10 here today. Do you think I can get you to keep your coat on in the car? "Mama, I'm just so hot!" You are just tougher than me sometimes too. You were the first to go down with the flu and the whole time you never complained.  In the car on the way to the lake you just asked for a clean bucket...

Mr. Thomas, we now think you are going to be another blue eyed boy.  But in the last few days, I can see that you look just like yourself. A little like each of the other kids, but now you are emerging as your own little man. You are my dream come true this year. And somehow parenting a fourth time is new and fresh. You will benefit from our experience as a family, we get better at loving each other every year, and now because of you we are filled with the kind of quiet love that only a new baby can bring to a home. All five of us are so excited to be with you on this ride.

James, this has been an interesting start to the year. Last year we wished so much for a baby and now here we are with Thomas.  I don't know what it is exactly that we're wishing for this year - maybe just more of the same family goodness we already have. Work has been trying for you lately.  Now that Dana is gone you seem to be wondering how to find your stride.  I know that you'll find it and settle in - but until then maybe we should take Bruce's advice: Pray, save for college and don't sweat the small stuff. It's good advice all around.

This year I want to run a race faster than I have in the past.  I want to be a better friend than I have in the past.  I want to grow TBPP a little (but not too much). I want to go on more dates with my husband.  I want to make lots of memories to be nostalgic about from my rocking chair. I want to spend time with my parents and be good to my siblings. I want so many things, but mostly I want to be present in my life, to live deliberately, and to be grateful for everything.

Paula, always the warmest dressed in the group!