Update

Nursing school hit me like a ton of bricks. Really. It's ridiculous the time that I DON'T have. 

Beforehand, I thought, "It's an associate's degree, how hard can it be?" 

HA!

Let me just say that after I graduate, I will have the same letters behind my name as a bachelor's-prepared nurse. I will be an RN. I will be responsible for keeping people alive. Because of that, I'm not complaining that my schoolwork is hard. I'm going to have some hefty responsibilities on me when I pass my boards. I need to be prepared. 

That said, let me update you a little on what's been going on 'round here. 

Playing in the mud 

Pumpkin picking

Did some learnin'

Baked

Took a nap

Celebrated some milestones

And studied. A lot. 

I promise to try to keep up a little better! See you soon! 

Progress

In keeping with my resolutions here, I've made an effort in the past couple of weeks to cut myself some slack. (And frankly, I think everyone else around here would be happier if I would just chill out and not be so. darn. anal. all the time.)

What I have learned by stepping back a little and changing my perspective:

Water is not that messy.

The smiles on their faces are worth the minute or two that it'll take me to wipe up a couple of overflows from preschool dish washing.

Sometimes I won't get the Perfect Shot of the baby because someone is yelling, "Take a picture of ME, Mom!" (Okay, like I EVER get the Perfect Shot, anyway!)

If you give a five-year-old boy the camera, he WILL take a picture of the toilet.

And that's okay.

CCCs

Before I had children, I had a picture in my mind of what kind of mother I wanted to be. I thought long and hard about what I wanted to teach my children, and how I wanted the atmosphere of our home to feel. I knew that I wanted to raise them to be good Catholics, to be kind, to know that they were loved, and to feel that their home was a refuge. There were all kinds of little vignettes in my head about different situations, both extraordinary and mundane, that I would experience with them or provide for them. One of these was a little snippet in my imagination of my kids coming home from school to milk and hot chocolate chip cookies, fresh from the oven, just waiting on the table. Something about a mom who takes the time to make a treat, warm, fragrant, gooey & sweet, called to me.

When Adam was a toddler, we baked together. As each child followed, they learned to pull up a chair to the counter, to cream butter and sugar, to dump in the chips. My kids love to bake, especially cookies. Most especially, they love to bake chocolate chip cookies. It's a tradition that grew on its own, considering that my kids have never gotten off the school bus, plopped down a book bag, and sighed about their long day of school.

The last few weeks have seen all of us come down with a bad case of negativity. We've all been short with each other, not used the kind words that we know are there. Tonight, I had a paper to write for my psychology class. Instead of writing a paper, I decided to contribute to the mental health of everyone and whip up a batch of chocolate chip cookies.

It was a good decision. Something about stirring the sugars and vanilla, measuring the flour, breaking the eggs, something there is therapeutic. CCCs are good for the soul. (At least mine are, because frankly, mine are the best I've ever tasted.) (No, you can't have the recipe. Half the fun is figuring out what works!)

And it worked. Like magic, everyone loosened up. We all stopped taking everything so. darn. seriously. Everyone liked each other again. When Adam yelled, "TASTE TEST!" and ran for the spoons, Gracie and the other boys cheered. Smiles all around. We each had a spoonful of batter. We licked our spoons clean. And I put a batch in the oven, anticipating the homey fragrance that would seal the deal, that would make the good mood stick, that would put us back on track.

Well, hello, Beautiful.

And that is the sight of happy kids. Never underestimate the power of chocolate to make everything better.

Before & After

Stockpile, before:

And after:

Tomatos, before:

And after:

The garden, before:

And after:

Bread, before:

And after: (see? They are dark!)

So even though I am on an endless gerbil wheel of laundry, dishes, housekeeping, and child-herding, I am making progress.

The lesson I'm learning

Hubby's still without the perfect job: the one that has affordable benefits for all of us, the one that has predictable hours and a predictable paycheck. It's been nearly 6 months. And it's been hard.

I keep telling myself that there's a lesson to be learned here, and that I'm missing it. Maybe it's my own need to do something that makes me feel like I need to be learning a lesson. It's been hard for me to not be in control, or at least have some sense of control, of our economic future. Yes, we still have an income; yes, we're making ends meet; yes, I'm exercising every frugal muscle I have (even if I have made a few stupid mistakes here & there.) But it's the lack of security that's wearing on me. It's the "not knowing" that wakes me up at 2am. Sorry, I'm rambling.

The lessons that I am learning are not easy, at least for me. I'm learning to trust. God has provided for us. Our pantry is stocked. The bills are paid. We're not behind (yet) on anything. Who was it that said that fear is the opposite of love? That phrase seems to be popping up everywhere in front of me these days. (That was for You, God. You can cut it out, now.) So I'm trying, trying, to trust. And for a super-mega-ultra control freak like me, that's unbelievably hard. But I'm trying.

I've learned to accept help. Again, that's hard. Meals, money, job leads, a car to use, an shoulder to cry on (thanks Fr. Pondo!)- all hard for me to accept. I'm a very guarded person. I don't like to be vulnerable in any way. I am very comfortable in my emotional armor, and I like being an island unto myself. So for me to accept help from people is monumental. (And for those of you who have helped, please know how much I appreciate your kindness! I am so thankful for all of you!)

So there you have it. My heart on my sleeve. Send up a prayer or two for me if you can spare them. Hubby has a couple of job leads for positions that would start at the end of January (yes, God, it's hilarious that you're trying to teach me patience now, too!) so I think that I'll be starting a novena to St. Joseph the Worker, soon. Maybe I'll post it, and if you want to join in, you can.

A renewal of faith

Last week, I was in the throes of a real crisis. Hubby & I had done some intense study of our budget and our dwindling savings account, and realized that some choices would soon have to be made. We set a deadline by which hubby would have to have a job, or I would have to go back to my former employer and reapply for my old job: the job I had before I left the workforce to stay at home with our children. Thankfully, that deadline has passed us by without much fanfare, since hubby's now employed. (More details on the job later.)

But last week, as I was giving God a good talking-to about how this was just! not! fair!, about how I try to be a good and faithful servant of Christ, about how I scrimp and save and stretch every penny, about how very very important my children are to me, God sent me a little telegram, restoring my faith.

• My wonderful playgroup friends starting bringing us meals. The meals were fantastic, and we were (and are) very thankful for them. Just as important, though, is that sense of community that goes with someone bringing you food. I know how busy each of these women is. But each mom took the time to make a meal for my family, for my husband and children and me. And I am so grateful.
• Our neighbor Mike (gosh, he's really a great guy!) fixed our mower with spare parts from his old mower. He found out that my husband's mower was broken, came over to our house, got our broken mower, and repaired it with parts from his old mower. (Keep in mind that hubby has a fledgling lawncare business that's been bringing in a bit of extra and much-needed income. No mower=no money.) AND THEN, Mike called his nephew (who just so happens to be the deacon at our church), who came over and made sure that we were doing all right.
• A dear friend gave us a very generous and unexpected gift, with no option to refuse his/her generosity. It was the kind of gift that makes you stop in your tracks, without the words sufficient to express your gratitude. Really, what do you say to someone who is so generous, who just says, "You need to stay home with your children"? "Thanks" seems like such a trite, pithy little word to say. But what else can you say? I hope someday I'll be able to pay it forward.

Yes, the Almighty made me bow my head again, and be thankful for my blessings. He is teaching me that I can depend on His generosity, shown to me over and over by the wonderful people He puts in my path.

If God so clothes the grass in the field that grows today and is thrown into the oven tomorrow, will he not much more provide for you, O you of little faith? As for you, do not seek what you are to eat and what you are to drink, and do not worry anymore.

Luke 12:28-29

So for now, I'm able to stay home and be a mother to that adorable little girl at the top of this post. And I'm going to try to stop worrying.

Grateful

So, today was Adam's 8th birthday.

And Cory lost his job today.

I'm striving to keep this in perspective, to quiet the panic that's gnawing at the corner of me. Cory and I have been through worse, much worse, before. We can do this. We will do this. We have savings, we have family who will help us. We have a pantry full of groceries, we have two working cars, we have a comfortable (though modest) home, we are healthy, as are our wonderful, beautiful children.

Thank You, God, for our "rich people" problems. Thank You for the fortune of our birth - that we live here, in a country with resources, so we can pick ourselves back up, dust off, and get back on our feet. We don't live in a war zone, we're not in danger of going hungry, and we're all together, under one roof. There are resources out there to help us.

I'm thankful for the extra time we'll get to spend together as a family. I'm grateful for the privilege of being a mother for eight years. We're lucky to have all these wonderful people in our lives: friends and family who've offered help - job leads, dinner, and an ear to listen. And I'm so relieved that we have a small "stash" of savings, so that we're not desperate (yet).

I'm thankful. I don't want to whine, and I don't want to be bitter. I choose to be grateful.