Parents' Epic Battle Against Original Sin

My last post described how I want to focus on the joy and blessing of motherhood, especially on Mother's Day. While I believe that with all of my heart, this post has a bit of a different tune. For while my children indeed do not grow halos for any holiday, there's definitely a deeper problem than just not being angelic. 

Before I was a parent, I thought I knew some things about raising children. You may wonder what  made me so presumptuous, but with a lot of experience working with children and their families and observing how my parents raised the five of us, I thought I knew a thing or two. While I suppose those experiences have helped me quite a bit, they haven't helped as much as I thought they would.

I thought that if you were consistent and firm, training your children young in Godly ways to be obedient and polite, by the time they were the ages of let's say 6 and 8, you would be reaping the rewards of your efforts.

Well, the jig is up. Perhaps this is supposed to be a secret of parenthood or something so that people will actually continue to have children. But I'm going to spill the beans.

This is not true!

For several years, I banged my head against the wall in exasperation for even with all of my consistency and training, my children would still not obey! They still acted rudely! They still threw fits! And I have spoken to many parents who have made the same discovery. What the heck?!

In really hard moments, I would despair, feeling so discouraged about my failure as a mother. What was I doing wrong? Why was this so hard? Is my yelling sometimes when I lose my patience the reason Joshua struggles so much with self-control? Do the boys not treat each other consistently with honor and kindness because I am too hard on them? Am I going about this all wrong???

After many recent conversations about this topic, it has occurred to me that I hadn't accounted for something. Something big. Something innate. Something called original sin, or the tendency all of us are born with to sin that was passed down to us from Adam and Eve. When I was a child, the story of Adam and Eve seemed far-off, distant, not applicable. But now when I see one of my children get that look in their eye and then do something they know not to, I realize that I'm fighting definitely something bigger here.

This means that no matter how much I train my children, they will continue to disobey! They will continue to be rude! They will continue to bicker incessantly! They will continue to hit each other! They will continue to throw fits when they don't get their way, even sometimes at 8 years old!

Parenting is a whole lot harder than I had thought.

When talking about the story of Adam and Eve with Joshua, he said, "Well, I wouldn't have eaten the apple." :) A good thought.

But then I asked him, "Oh really? Is there any rule that your dad and I have given you that you've never broken?"

Silence.

"Ummm, well, no. I guess not."

And there we have it. Original sin. Or perhaps we just shouldn't give our children any rules so that they can't break them and they will just instinctively know how to behave in a Godly way? I think not.

Well, in the past few weeks, the bickering, the backtalk and the fit-throwing were out of control around here. I had had it!

In a dire attempt to find some guidance, I began looking for books. I am now waiting for Siblings Without Rivalry: How to Help Your Children to Live Together So You Can Live Too to be delivered to our library for me.

Also, I was doing some research online and discovered a wonderful web site called Kidspointz.com with a lot of tools that we are now using. We now have the following:

• Chore charts
• Pet care charts
• Honor charts

The above charts all have rewards that come from the children filling them out. The consequence would simply be that they don't get the reward.

We also have:

• Charts for what needs to be done each morning and evening
• Behavior contracts that point out areas that the boys need to work on
• Sibling contracts that explain how they need to treat one another in times of conflict
• A self-control contract for Joshua, who has a difficult time controlling his voice and that little body when he's angry

These charts and contracts only have consequences, not rewards. We do not believe in rewarding our children for acceptable behavior. These contracts and charts explain what acceptable behavior is and what will happen if they do not portray it. Consequences are things such as doing 10 minutes of chores for Mom or Dad, taking on a sibling's chore or doing something extra kind for someone who has been hurt.

Both of the boys are for the most part beyond the time-out stage of discipline. I remember a year or two ago, I put Joshua in a time-out for something. While he sat there, I was working my butt off getting housework done. I looked at him and thought, "Why does he get to sit down?!" Thus endeth the time-out. Now if the boys can't behave, they can at least lighten my load by doing a chore or two that I would have otherwise done.

We had a family meeting to go over all of these charts and contracts, explaining it all and answering questions. The boys responded well and have been doing a good job with it so far.

I realize that this will not work forever, but it's helping right now and that's good enough for me. As I truck on down the road of motherhood, it seems I have to pick up many tools along the way. Some work. Some don't. Most often, the tools simply help me to feel better because I then have a plan of attack.

And while this original sin is inevitable, as parents we have to keep fighting back!

Reflections on Mother's Day

Happy Mother's Day!

I just enjoyed going to Mass with my husband, children, parents and brother, followed by a delicious brunch at Arnie's with more family. It was lovely.

As I'm sure all mothers do, I look forward to Mother's Day. But as with a lot of holidays, I've noticed that my expectations can be unrealistic. I love holidays and traditions and celebrating life with family and friends. Those are some of my favorite times. But in a way, you can almost look forward to a holiday or celebration too much!

For Mother's Day, there are certain things that Hallmark cards and TV commercials tend to portray as the norm. On Mother's Day, your children and husband should be perfect people who know your every wish without your saying a word, they provide you with a 5 star restaurant worthy breakfast in bed complete with a bouquet of flowers, your children make you adorable crafts that you will cherish forever and you are continually catered to and spoiled the entire day, enjoying a much needed "day off."

Well, at least in our house, this isn't quite how it all works out. Let me precedent this with saying that I am not complaining. Rather, I am admitting that any disappointment I ever feel on Mother's Day or really any celebration, has absolutely nothing to do with how well I am taken care of or how I'm treated. Like I said, I was taken out to a marvelous brunch this morning, enjoyed Mass with my family and Jason also brought me a latte and croissant in bed this morning! I have opened several cards and gifts and Jason is cooking Shrimp Scampi for dinner tonight! I have absolutely no complaints. Any frustration I feel on a day like today has nothing to do with how well I am taken care of, but rather with my own unrealistic expectations.

Mother's Day is not a day off. The children still need to be mothered! It can be surprising after watching enough television that your children don't transform into perfect angels for the day who think of your needs before their own. But even on Mother's Day, my children wear no halos, they do not grow angel's wings. They are still children. They still bicker. They still whine. They still need to be reminded, sometimes repeatedly, to obey.

If I focus on this, I can dive deep into a pity party. It is easy for me to start to feel entitled to a day of perfection. Mothers do work very hard and it can easily be argued that we deserve a day off. But it's just not in the job description.

And right there I think shows a major problem with my own attitude sometimes and of many mothers today. So often the media depicts motherhood as a burden, an inconvenience, a loss of your self, an ongoing trial that needs to be endured, a very tiresome job. But vacation days are not part of the job description because motherhood is not a job!

Motherhood is so much more. 

When we belittle our calling as mothers to merely a job, our perspective is skewed. We begin focusing on the difficulty of it, the frustrations, the way we are not appreciated or rewarded enough for our work. With this view, then of course we feel we need a day off. It's on Mother's Day, right?

I am trying to get away from this sense of entitlement to a day off. In fact, I'm trying to keep in mind that not only should we be celebrating and honoring mothers today, but we should be filled with gratitude for the calling and blessing of motherhood. 

My mom jumped into motherhood with both feet, embracing it tightly with both arms. She mothers five children and she does so with love and joy, as she always has. With everything she has given us, her actions of love were never performed with martyrdom but with joy. And I'm sure the five of us did not grow halos on Mother's Day for her either.

This is the attitude I want to extend to my own journey of motherhood. When my children are grown, I wonder how they will remember what my attitude was like as a mother. They surely see me frustrated almost daily. They see me tired. They hear corrections from me frequently. They witness me lose my patience. They hear me yell.

Do they know what a blessing and joy they are to me too? I hope so. I tell them everyday that I love them. But I want them to understand more than that. So every now and then, I take them into my arms and tell them, "You are my blessing and my joy." I hope they remember that.

Although in day-to-day life it can often be challenging, I want to strive to focus on the gift, the blessing and the joy of motherhood. On Mother's Day, I should not be expecting the impossible! In fact, I should have no expectations at all. Instead, I should see Mother's Day as a day to pause and reflect on how blessed I am by my children. If I could establish my heart in this way, Mother's Day would be even a greater gift than it already is.

A Weekend to Remember . . .

We had a fantastic weekend, full of celebrating. Jason had his 40th birthday last Friday. His mom, Liz, visited us from Hawaii to be here for the occasion.

On Friday, we dropped off the kids at a friend's and went to the Space Needle for lunch. It was such a glorious day! The only time I think I have ever been to the top of the Space Needle was when I was a child, so it was so much fun to see it now. We had the most perfect day for it. The food was delicious and we really enjoyed ourselves. Afterwards, at Jason's request, we stopped at Molly Moon's. I had a scoop of their Balsamic Strawberry with hot fudge sauce. Heaven! Liz bought each of us their ice cream cookbook, so I can't wait to try some of their fun recipes this summer.

On Saturday morning, we celebrated Joshua's First Communion. What a special day! I had the privilege of teaching Joshua' Faith Formation class this year. It was wonderful and inspiring to help and watch the 2nd graders prepare for receiving this holy Sacrament. The Eucharist is something that I have only begun to understand as an adult. Of course, these children still have a long way to go in understanding this mystery, but I do believe that I helped them begin to.

The morning was gorgeous. The ceremony went beautifully. During the homily, Father Bob asked the children how they felt about receiving their First Communion. Joshua answered first with, "Happy." :) We then had a party at our house, where we got to enjoy the beautiful sunshine on our new deck! Yes, it was complete enough for us to bask in the sun. It still has some finishing touches to be made, but it was wonderful that we could use it this past weekend.

Joshua received some awesome Star Wars themed First Communion cards! :)

Finishing up the deck so that it would be ready for the parties.

Ta-da!

After that day's party, it was time to get ready for Sunday! We had a 40th birthday party for Jason, which was so much fun--especially in another day of gorgeous weather. Adrienne came up with her mom, stepdad and brother from Portland. Between them and Jason's mom being here, it was very special. 

I don't think I've ever worked so hard as I did the week getting ready for those two parties. I prayed all week for the Lord to give me the strength and energy to get everything done and enjoy the weekend as well. He delivered. While I am definitely enjoying some down time this week, it was all worth it. I planned to have both parties the same weekend intentionally so that Liz could be there for both. And I am so glad that I did.

Yesterday morning, Joshua asked me if I was tired. Yes, Mommy's tired. I explained how hard I worked and how it was taking me a couple of days to recover, but that I'd be back to normal soon.

Later, Joshua informed me, "Nana has two parties in a row every year, Mom."

Well, yes. Yes, she does. The day after she hosts Thanksgiving, we always go back to their house for Chinese Food Friday. And she usually hosts both Christmas Eve and Christmas Dinner. I tried not to get too defensive and go on and on about how it's different and how I'm pregnant and everything. I just kind of laughed and agreed with him. And now that I come to think of it, what a blessing to have such an amazing mother as an example!

By the end of Jason's birthday party, I was really out of it. I wasn't really sleepy, but my brain wasn't functioning very well either. Jenny helped me to bring out the cakes for Jason to blow out the candles. In the middle of the song, Jenny's candle went out. As I watched her candle be re-lit, I sang, "Happy Birthday dear Jenny . . . " 

Yep. That's how tired I was. Oh well. I think everyone enjoyed the party anyway.

Jenny

I took this shot yesterday and it is quickly becoming a favorite photo of mine.

About seven years ago, we were living in Kent, I was teaching and Joshua was a one-year-old. I was really lonely. I was the only one of my friends to be a married mom, we had moved to an area where I didn't know anyone, we were further away from my family and I wasn't really connecting with any of my fellow teachers. The Pre-K program that I taught was very separate from the rest of the school, so I really didn't even see the other teachers very much.

I felt like such a loser. I needed some friends! And I felt like there must be something wrong with me since I was having so much trouble making any. There were a few women that I tried to get together with, but we just didn't really have anything in common.

Now, of course I was a married mom, so of course I had Jason. Our first years of marriage were a wonderful time and he really was and continues to be my best friend. But that didn't fulfill the need I had for some women friends.

I remember sitting in the rocking chair in our room, praying to God with hot, embarrassed, frustrated, messy tears streaming down my face, asking Him to send me a friend. It was so humbling and humiliating. What kind of person needs to pray for friends?!

Not long after that, we began volunteering for Engaged Encounter. I remember first meeting Jenny at an Engaged Encounter barbeque. We didn't know many people yet and I was a little nervous. I remember Jenny arriving with a two or three month old little baby. As everyone welcomed her with hugs and ooh's and ah's over Zachary, it was immediately apparent that everyone knew her and loved her.

Not long after that, I began taking Joshua to a music class at "Ms. Jenny's" house.

For most of this time, I was just sort of observing Jenny in admiration. She is such a joyful, funny, outgoing, friendly and radiant woman. Watching Jenny inspires you to enjoy your life more. I knew I wanted to be friends with her, but wasn't really sure how to go about that. What was I supposed to do? Say, "Hi. I think you're super awesome! Can we be best friends now?"

But when we first did get together just to talk and let the boys play, it soon became very apparent that we had so much in common. We both liked to run, we were both writers, we were both Catholic stay-at-home moms and we laughed and laughed as we discovered that we both have ex-boyfriends who later on discovered they were gay and happen to also be very close friends with each other.

On June 20, 2007, my journal says, "Thank you God for giving me Jenny!"

I have never had a friend like her. So many laughs shared. So many tears. So many things we have admitted to one another, only to be encouraged and reassured by each other. A relationship that goes through ups and downs, that has periods of joy and such intimate closeness and then times of disillusionment. Just like marriage!

When I look at that photo, there is of course the first reaction of how cute it is to see our daughters walking and holding hands. It reminds me of the journey we've been on together as mothers, and how we used to dream of raising daughters together. Well, there they are!

But as I study the photo, there is also so much more. In my daughter, I see myself. And in my goddaughter, I see Jenny. We are not racing down the path, but treading carefully, helping each other along the way. Kayli's foot is coming off of the ground just a moment before Veronica's. This too is how I see Jenny. She's been married longer, she's been a mother longer, she and Mike began volunteering for Engaged Encounter before we did and actually presented on our weekend when we were engaged. In so many ways, Jenny emulates a woman who I want to be more like, someone whose footsteps I'd like to follow in.

In the photo, the girls are walking from the shade towards the light. This too is significant. Jenny has been an immense part of my faith journey as a woman and a mother. To share our faith and be able to discuss it and explore it and celebrate it and challenge it together has been an added richness to the blessing of our friendship. She and Mike will be the godparents to our next baby.

We talk about dying. Between she, Mike, Jason and I, who will die first? Who will grieve first, who will comfort? This may seem morbid, but it's never a conversation coming from a place of depression, but more one of wonder. I actually enjoy philisophical discussions about death and life and what's in store for us on the other side. Jenny says I talk about heaven more than anyone she knows and I like that.

In the photo, the girls are walking toward the light, just as Jenny and I walk together, helping one another to grow further in our potential and hopefully in our journey one day into heaven.

Having Jenny as a friend makes living life so much more fun! When we discuss death, inevitably I wonder how I would ever get along without her. Of course, we hope and pray for long lives for ourselves and all of our loved ones. I pray to share with Jenny many more sunny afternoons at the beach, glasses of wine (when I'm not pregnant, of course), tearful laughs and sharing of ourselves.

Dear God, thank you for Jenny.

By the Grace of God, a Happy Update

I woke up this morning feeling so awful. Nausea and a headache - Are you kidding me? After yesterday which was a pretty awful day, this was very discouraging.

I stumbled into the kitchen and sat down. The day ahead seemed unconquerable. ALL I wanted to do was crawl back into bed.

I have been reading a book of devotions titled, "More Devotions for Homeschool Moms," by Jackie Wellwood. There is also a first book of devotions. These are the most down-to-earth, relatable, practical devotions I have ever read, although I admit that I have not read a lot of devotionals. These devotions would really be applicable to any mom. They are so refreshing.

Today's was titled, "I Think I Can."

I read it and was brought to tears. Yes, again. I'm pregnant, what can I say?

I prayed for God to give me the strength for today and to help me through it. All of the sudden, it occurred to me that maybe I should take Kahlua on a quick walk before Jason left for work, something I hadn't been planning on doing. I didn't really want to, but I knew it might help the way I was feeling.

The walk transformed the way I was feeling physically and my attitude. The cold, fresh morning air cleared away my headache and my nausea. The time by myself outside, reflecting, praying and observing the beautiful morning, gave me the energy and the will to take the day on.

Today has been a wonderful, productive day.

If it had been up to me, I would have given up at 7:00 in the morning. I would have stayed in my pajamas, done the absolute bare minimum and felt miserable all day.

Rather, I was able to teach the children, manage their bickering in a mostly constructive way, work out, make dinner, get through a mountain of laundry and have felt calm and joyful through most of it.

This is not my doing. This is all by the grace of God. Without Him, I can't do it. It is only with Him that I can move forward. When I forget this, I wallow and linger in my own frustration, fowl moods and inadequacy.

It is only with God that I can be who He calls me to be.

A Long, Hormonal Rant . . .

WARNING! THIS IS A PREGNANCY RANT. THIS POST IS NOT CUTE. IT IS NOT INSPIRING. THIS POST IS REAL. IF YOU ARE LOOKING FOR CUTE OR INSPIRING, LOOK ELSEWHERE OR COME BACK AT ANOTHER TIME.

I checked out some books from the library, many of which have to do with pregnancy and childbirth. This may seem funny, as most of these books are written for first-time moms, which obviously I'm not. But even though I've done this three times before, I don't think I'll ever get this pregnancy thing down.

Some women claim that they love being pregnant. Some women claim that it is when they feel their best. My suspicion is that these women are either part of a very small minority, they don't remember pregnancy accurately or they are lying. I realize that for some women, the hormones during pregnancy and the bigger boobs make them feel fabulous. Well, I guess I should be happy for them, but this group of women does not include myself. My boobs were big enough, thank you very much. This is just getting ridiculous.

I think some women lie about what pregnancy is really like, or perhaps just don't tell the whole truth. This could be for many reasons. It might just be an attempt to be a grateful person and focus on the positive. It might be because a woman is trying to encourage another woman who is pregnant for the first time. And I also think that for many of us, we don't want to admit to ourselves or to others the difficulties of pregnancy, believing it makes us less adequate mothers and less competent women. 

I also think that most of us women do not remember what pregnancy is like when we are not in fact pregnant, myself included. We romanticize it, recalling ultrasounds, choosing names, feeling the baby kick and then of course the end result of a miraculous, breathtaking, beautiful little new person who joins the world. And hopefully I don't even need to say this, but the end result is obviously so much more than worth everything you endure. This is my fourth time around, enough said.

I also feel the need to say that I am very grateful for this pregnancy. As I have indicated in other posts, we were overjoyed when we discovered that we would have another baby and had been hoping for it for quite a while. It feels wrong to complain about the trials of my fourth pregnancy when there are so many women who have miscarried, who are putting their bodies through so much in the hopes of a baby and so many who will never be able to experience it. I do try to keep things in perspective, but sometimes I am just too tired, hormonal and immature to do so.

This is my journey and in this moment, pregnancy isn't feeling very joyful.

Because I've always struggled during pregnancy, I decided to look for guidance in some books. This is my #1 fix to all problems. Find a book. Read about others' experiences that you can relate to. Get some tips. Come up with a plan for how to improve the situation. Sometimes this process is helpful. But sometimes it isn't.

While I am pregnant, I feel fat. I do not feel beautiful. I feel fat. I know that I shouldn't, but I do. Perhaps it is because as a woman, I always have to watch my weight. Perhaps it is because I've grown up in a culture that adores the very thin and not the voluptuous, such as myself. Perhaps it is because for me, as for much of humankind, it is hard to watch your body change and get older. Or maybe it's just because, I get fatter. Obviously I know the reason for this. And I know that for the most part, it will all come off. But fat is fat is fat, and I don't like any more of it on my ass.

So I got a book titled, "Mama Glow: A Hip Guide to Your Fabulous Pregnancy." That sounds pretty good. I want to feel like I've got the glow. I want to feel hip. I want to feel fabulous. I envisioned this book as one that would be encouraging, uplifting and confidence-building. This was a great mistake.

In the quick fifteen minute flip-through I did, the book made me feel like crap. Now that I look back, I should have seen it coming. The cover portrays an illustration of a very skinny, sexy woman with a cute, cantaloupe-sized baby bump, a stylish, short halter dress, long Tina Turner legs and turquoise stiletto heels.  Hmmmmm . . . Very realistic? Not in my world.

Inside I found much of what I've found in other pregnancy books. There are workout routines and very healthy, very labor-intensive recipes which require purchasing high-maintenance ingredients at high-maintenance stores such as goji berries, hempseeds and cashew butter. There is an assortment of sample menus for detox days. It seems that everyone says the same thing recommended by all of the experts. In order to feel great during pregnancy, eat very healthy all of the time and exercise everyday.

Well, I don't want to! Or more accurately, I do not have the energy or motivation to. 

I love to cook. And I have educated myself a lot about cooking healthy foods. But when I'm pregnant, I am lucky if I get dinner on the table. I certainly do not have the energy to begin juicing everything, making my own nut milk, sprouted tabbouleh or Tunisian plantains! If we get takeout, which we have a lot, then it was a bad day. If I make some pasta with jarred marinara, then it wasn't a bad day. If I make myself a salad, then I must be feeling pretty good. And occasionally, I will have the energy to make some fabulous food (although not the healthiest), such as last night's Prosciutto-wrapped Chicken, Roasted Red Potatoes and Steamed Asparagus with leftover hollandaise sauce from that morning's eggs benedict. But I was exhausted afterwards! And yes, this was a particularly decadent day. I don't usually eat quite like that. But I'm not sprouting my own tabbouleh either.

The truth is that when I'm pregnant, we get takeout and go out to restaurants a lot more than we usually do. And I'm not ordering salads. When I'm pregnant, I EAT LESS HEALTHY, not more.

The truth is that when I'm pregnant, I'm tired, hormonal and have less motivation. I EXERCISE LESS, not more.

Of course, this is exactly the opposite of what you're supposed to do. And of course, it makes for more weight gain. And it probably doesn't help the tiredness, the breakouts or the hormones either. It is SO frustrating to me that all of the recommendations, all of the books and all of the experts tell you to just to eat healthy and exercise regularly during pregnancy, something that people who are not pregnant have a hard time being motivated to do.  It feels like a huge guilt trip for pregnant women, an unrealistic goal that will only make you feel bad when you don't meet it.

For me, this is what is real. I am at 18 weeks and I have gained about 10-12 pounds. This is at about a normal, healthy rate. But typically, I start kinda slow and put on weight at a faster rate toward the end of the pregnancy.

I wish I was some size 2 woman who was feeling the glow and energy of the second trimester, going out for daily walks and weekly yoga classes, cooking light, healthy meals and still fitting into my pre-pregnancy skinny jeans.

I'm not. In my second trimester, I do feel better than in the first. But if I have energy, it lasts a day or two, not twelve weeks. Otherwise I'm pretty tired and I have to peel myself out of bed each morning and try not to spend too much time each day on the couch.

I'm hormonal. I've cried like twenty times today.

Because of low energy, low motivation and very often, back pain, I do not exercise as much when I'm pregnant. My last workout was two weeks ago. Maybe I'll be up for one tomorrow.

I eat too much ice cream when I'm pregnant. I cook less. We eat takeout and fast food more.

When will someone write a real book about pregnancy? When will someone write all of the encouraging, uplifting, inspiring and understanding words that your best friend would say? When will someone write a book telling you that yes, there are some ideals and you should try to come close to them when you can, but if you are way off the mark, it's okay. Just take your multivitamin with that milkshake. When will someone write that book?

I would do it. But I'm too tired.

Funniest Mass Yet . . .

Going to Mass with small children can at times be more frustrating than any other task, causing you to have very unholy thoughts and wonder why you went in the first place. There have been Sundays when the hour goes by without my hearing a single word of what was said and I leave feeling frazzled, angry, resentful and incompetent as a mother. What is the point of this? I would ask. If I get absolutely nothing out of Mass and actually leave feeling worse, why do we go?

Well, there are many great answers to that question. Two quick ones comes to mind. First, it's not about me! It's about taking time out of my week to worship God, which is what I'm supposed to do. Second, if we want our children to behave in Mass, we have to begin at a young age. You can't start taking a six-year-old to Mass all of the sudden and expect them to know how to behave.

But there's another much more joyful reason than obligation and child training. Not every time, maybe not even most of the time, but sometimes there will be moments with your child that are so precious, so inspiring and so moving that every single other frustrating Mass will be worth it.

I remember holding Noah in Mass when he was a baby. I looked down at him and he was staring so thoughtfully, so intently on the sunlight streaming in through the stained-glass windows above us. He'd seen this many times. But on this morning, he was mesmerized by it. He kept putting his hands up into the air, trying to touch it. After a few minutes of this, it occurred to me that Noah may be seeing something that I wasn't. Many people believe that babies and children are more capable of seeing angels and the Holy Spirit than so many of us adults, as their hearts are more open to it. Suddenly I was convinced that this was what was happening in that moment. Noah gazed up with such awe, wonder and peace in his eyes, and I knew that somehow God was showing Himself to Noah in a way that I couldn't see. Tears welled up in my eyes. A euphoric moment.

***pause as I go get a kleenex***

Of course, those moments are rare. But they do happen and I will always treasure them. What is much more common is to have moments that are absolutely hysterical.

Veronica has been our easiest young child to have with us in Mass so far. She loves to go to Church. She knows Jesus is there. She knows that quite often, Nana and Papa will be there. She loves to dip her hand in the holy water. She absolutely loves the music and claps and tries to sing along, quite loudly at times. If the song was one that she particularly liked, when it is finished she applauds and exclaims, "Yaaaaay!" She likes to hold hands and try to pray the Our Father with us. She loves to give the sign of peace. And she loves it when I take her up to Communion.

Veronica, for the most part, has not made Mass more difficult, but rather has made it more joyful and delightful.

But last night takes the cake. Of course, we still have to manage Veronica during Mass. She is quite the chatterbox and it can be challenging to keep her entertained and keep her from being too loud. I'm still very lucky if I come away having any idea what the homily was about.

We bring a bag of books to try and help the children stay quiet. But Veronica is usually more interested in the songbooks, the participation aids, the prayer cards, the envelopes and pencils for donations, my jewelry, my purse, my scarf or anything else really. Well, yesterday I was standing beside her, listening to Father Bob as she was playing with something on the pew. Then she started asking me, "Tissue? Tissue?" I turned around to see that she had gotten into my purse. And what she had discovered and pulled out was not a tissue. It was a pad! There she was for everyone behind us to see, trying to blow nose her with a pad. And it just goes to show how badly I need to clean out my purse, because obviously I haven't needed one in a while! I tucked it away and zipped up my purse, but I could not stop giggling.

Then a while later, we prayed the Our Father and gave the sign of peace. Veronica knew what was coming next. "Communion?" she asked. "Yes," I told her, "We will go up for Communion soon." I processed up to receive Communion with her in my arms and soon it was my turn. I placed out my hand and Father gave me a host. Veronica then held out her hand and asked, "A piece?"

I almost burst out laughing, but instead gently pulled her hand down and whispered, "No, you can't have any Communion yet." And then, her little lip stuck out about a foot from her face and she cried and wailed at the unfairness of it all. I received the wine with a crying toddler, who sobbed all the way back to our pew, whimpering, "Communion. Communion." Eventually, I calmed her down and spent the remainder of Mass giggling.

These moments help make the effort of taking young ones to Mass much more than worth the effort. Not only do they make great stories and keep us very entertained, but they enhance my journey of faith as well. As Noah gazed up to the light in wonder, I was reminded that God is all around us. As Veronica was so upset that she would not be able to receive Communion, I was reminded of the gift I was receiving. Our faith does not begin to develop when we are old enough to understand it. It begins forming when we are babes. And in many ways, I feel that my children understand God better than I do. It is not I who am teaching them, but they who are teaching me.

And in that I am so very, very blessed and so grateful.