— 1 —

I’m convinced I have a new condition called Oxytocin-induced Narcolepsy. I’ve looked online and have yet to uncover it, but believe me, it exists in my own little world. These past couple weeks, I – a woman who has prided herself on being able to get motivated and productive as most people are turning in – have become someone who conks out at 9 p.m. Now, I don’t intend to do it. If I did, I’d have brushed my teeth, changed into pajamas, and finished the dishes by this point.

Instead, it occurs involuntarily when I take my 7-week-old into my bed to nurse him down for his first nightly stretch. I’ll be lying there one moment, peacefully resting as he fumbles to get a good latch and the next thing I know, the silence of the other children finally being asleep and the darkness of the house jostles me awake, and I stumble into the bathroom for a go at the old dental hygiene thing before the baby wakes up for his midnight snack.

I welcome the early bedtime, since I suffered from insomnia for most of my pregnancy. But I’m getting absolutely nothing done! I know I need the rest. My body is still trying to recover from being up since August of 2005, when I was in my third trimester with my first son. But this is getting ridiculous.

— 2 —

I have to take this opportunity to brag about my latest heroic efforts known as “Surviving the Day.” My husband went on a three-day business trip to North Dakota a couple weeks back, and I managed to pull off the solo duty of caring for a fussy four-week-old, an extremely contentious toddler, and two hyperactive boys who have an unfortunate hearing impairment that prevents them from hearing all sounds that fall within the narrow frequency of my voice… unless my voice is saying words like “pizza”, “present”, or “play date”.

Making it through the weekend boosted my confidence… and blood pressure. Congratulate me,
please. I didn’t put a single child up on Craigslist, nor did I show up on the steps of the local psych ward begging them to let me sleep in one of their quiet, isolated, padded rooms. That’s a request for next Mother’s Day, since this year my husband got me the next best thing: another Ahh Bra!

— 3 —

Our daughter is definitely going through a difficult transition when it comes to the new baby. She spends about 50% of the time gently caressing her little brother and giving him kisses, and the other 50% of the time trying to smother him or twist off one of his appendages.

As a result, she has spent quite a bit of time in her time-out chair, which means we have been treated to monologues that include her listing off the names of everyone she knows with the adjective “mean” inserted into the front. “Mean Mommy, Mean Daddy, Mean Mimi, Mean Papa Mike up in Heaven, Mean Hamms” (that’s Hobbes, our cat)… and the list keeps going.

Of course, we have the added enjoyment of pulling her out of the baby’s bouncer seat, swing, and bath tub on a regular basis. I’ve had to just raise the white flag on certain things because I’ve learned that some battles aren’t worth the migraine that comes with them. So when she asked to wear one of the newborn diapers, I gave in.

The headband, sandals on the wrong feet, and wet sidewalk chalk dotting her cheeks were a nice added touch on her part.

— 4 —

I’ve written about our 5-year-old’s threats to leave home before. Those threats died off for a while, but recently they started to come back. He actually packed a bag this time; although I don’t think he has a very good grasp on the essentials required for rugged living on his own.

Contents of backpack were: five pairs of underwear, one pair of shoes, rubber frog and rubber snake, and a single granola bar.

He also hopped on his bike and almost made it all the way to the back gate before changing his mind. His little sister was determined to accompany him, but she wasn’t nearly as prepared as he was for such an adventure — she’s not even wearing pants. Rookie!

— 5 —

On a totally unrelated note, I have to give a plug for a fabulous organization known as Mary’s Meals, a charity that feeds starving children all over the world right in the schools they would otherwise not be able to attend. So they get food and an education. We recently discovered a documentary that tells the story of Mary’s Meals called Child 31, produced by the same wonderful people at Grassroots Films who brought you The Human Experience — a must-see for anyone! If you purchase the documentary, as we did, the proceeds go to help Mary’s Meals.

Watch the trailers for Child 31 and The Human Experience below.

— 6 —

— 7 —

I’m going to leave things on a humorous note. To quote Jim Gaffigan, “If you want to know what it’s like to have four children, just imagine you’re drowning… and somebody hands you a baby.”

In fact, you’ll want to see his whole bit on having four kids at home. As a homebirthing mom, I highly approve. Plus, he comes dangerously close to going all “Theology of the Body” when he talks about how “amazing” all women are. Enjoy!

For more Quick Takes, visit Conversion Diary!

For example, in Mass this past week, the woman who read the second reading was in her… wiser years, as I like to say. There was an element of the dramatic infused into her style, and it made for a somewhat strained delivery. My 5-year-old son appeared to notice both the woman’s age and her struggle in speaking. He leaned over to me with a very concerned look on his face and stated the following:

Donovan (eyes wide and mouth turned down): “Mommy, I hope she doesn’t die soon.”

Me (whispering): “Donovan, it’s okay, I think she’s okay.”

Donovan (getting louder and more anxious): “But I don’t want her to die — she seems pretty, you know, old, and I’m getting worried that she might be dead soon.”

Me: “Okay, well, you know, why don’t you say a prayer for her?”

Faster than he’s ever responded to any of my requests for him to do anything, my son dropped to his knees and clasped his hands into a prayer position, and immediately entered into a silent prayer for the woman standing at the lectern.

Good news. She made it through the reading and, I presume, the rest of the Mass. I also made it through… despite the fact that I pretty much only managed to catch the end of the reading.

The Word of the Lord. Thanks be to God!

— 1 —

So, I have had two dates in less than a week with gal pals! Last Friday, I got to slip out with baby in tow for a quick dinner with one of my dearest friends. Then, just this past Wednesday, I got to have a late dinner with two of my other besties, both of whom are expecting their fourth baby in the next couple weeks. I had forgotten how fun it is just to get together with fellow mommies and have conversation that doesn’t involve stopping every third word to say something like, “I don’t care if he said something you don’t like, you can’t sit on his face… and, you do see that we’re in the middle of talking here, yes?”

My favorite line of the night came from my friend Jen, when she said, “I used to think I was a good mom… until I became a mom.” Amen, sister! Isn’t that the paradox of parenthood? We all think we know how it should be done when we’re newly married or still single, and then the real test comes when those little people come along and you learn real fast that, in fact, you know NOTHING!

— 2 —

I’m almost four weeks postpartum, and I know that all the doctors and midwives say you have to wait the full six weeks before beginning a rigorous exercise routine, but I’m getting a little antsy to trim down the midsection and churn up the ol’ endorphins (since chasing my 2-year-old who is running away from me at the zoo as I try to discreetly nurse my newborn is only triggering adrenaline rushes). So of course I told Steve that I think I’ll ring in this Saturday, the four-week mark, with a little Get in Shape Girl.

If you come from the 80s like we do, then upon reading that last line, you instantly started singing the old Get in Shape Girl jingle and envisioning the commercial with the little girls wearing leg warmers and headbands, and twirling their little rhythmic gymnastics ribbon. Don’t worry if you can’t quite pull up the memory (good for you for suppressing it properly); YouTube comes through again. Here you go.

— 3 —

Speaking of the zoo, I did it — I actually ventured out by myself with four children and met up with my two pregnant friends (see above) and each of their three kids for an adventure at the zoo. Let’s just say, we were the zoo. People should have paid money to come see us wangle our crazy crew.

It was good practice for me as I was flying solo this week because, as it turns out, my dear hubby has to leave next weekend for a business trip to Bismarck, North Dakota. This means I will be spending three whole days and two nights tending to a newborn, toddler, and two crazy, active boys all by myself. I told Steve that when he returns, if I’m not rocking back and forth in the corner, foaming at the mouth, I will deserve a special date… alone… in a quiet room with a bed where I can sleep and eat chocolate.

— 4 —

If anyone is homeschooling, you’ll appreciate this… especially as we get to the end of the school year.

— 5 —

It’s Infertility Awareness Week. If anyone is struggling with this painful cross, I urge you to consider NaProTechnology – the most pro-woman, pro-child approach to fertility treatment.

— 6 —

From trying to conceive life to trying to end it…

I just had to post this video clip for anyone who happens to read my blog but isn’t on board with my pro-life stance. I am begging you to watch and then email me, or comment, or… gosh, feel free to call (if you have my number), and just give me a 2-minute explanation for how you can side with Planned Parenthood, an organization that blatantly refuses to support legislation that protects a child born alive after a botched abortion. This video is from a recent hearing in Florida regarding the House Bill 1129 Infants Born Alive, in which the committee is questioning a Planned Parenthood lobbyist regarding the organization’s objections to the bill, which among basic life-saving protection, requires transportation to a hospital for any child born alive.

Here’s a brief excerpt from the video:

State Representative: “… you’ve stated that, uh, that a baby born, um, on a table as a result of a botched abortion, that that decision should be left to the doctor and the family? Is that what you’re saying?

Planned Parenthood Representative: “I… it should… thank you, Mr. Chairman. That decision should be between the, um, th… the patient and the healthcare provider.”

State Representative: “Thank you, Mr. Chairman. I think then at that point, the patient would be the child struggling on a table, wouldn’t you agree?”

Planned Parenthood Representative: “That’s a very good question. I really don’t know how to answer that.”

— 7 —

You know why she doesn’t know how to answer that? Because you can’t answer for the unanswerable. You can’t defend the indefensible. Women, wake up! Planned Parenthood is not a supporter of women’s rights or health. An abortionist is not a healthcare provider. A baby, growing comfortably in his or her mother’s womb — where he or she is intended to be — is not a blob of tissue that happens to gain a bunch of rights when it emerges from the womb.

Abortion has always been just one immoral oil slick on the slippery slope toward approval for infanticide. And we are finally at that place where we have to look the logical result of legalized abortion squarely in the eyes and see the inconsistencies that have always been present. Take for instance the trial going on right now for Kermit Gosnell, the abortionist accused of murdering (that’s right, it’s call murder when you kill a human being) infants born alive in his abortion mill. Born alive. Listen to those words. Most people are born alive. Otherwise, it’s called still birth. However, killing a human being who is still in his or her mother’s womb is called “choice” even though it is a direct life-ending procedure.

If a person who doesn’t die in utero as a result of the attempt to kill him or her, and is subsequently born alive as opposed to pulled out dead, we suddenly have an ethical debate on our hands. But why? Why do we defend a law that permits killing somebody inside the womb, but propose laws designed to defend saving that same person if the killing was unsuccessful?

You can see why Planned Parenthood keeps showing up at these legislative events. Most people are appaled at the idea of giving a mother the right to tell the doctor to kill a child on the outside of the womb, but this Planned Parenthood lobbyist in this video insinuates that a woman’s desire for just that would be honored and respected. It has to be, given that a mother already has the right to tell a doctor to kill the child on the inside of her womb. This lobbyist keeps dodging the question at the beginning when one of the state representatives asks her what PP’s policy would be if a child were born alive in one of their clinics. Her response: “We believe that any decision that’s made should be left up to the woman, her family and the physician.”

None of the respresentatives followed up with the logical next question, which should have been, “What if the woman decides she does not want the child to live, seeing as how that is why she was at the clinic in the first place? What would the Planned Parenthood abortionist do in that case?”

Anyone willing to defend that “right to choose?”

For more Quick Takes, visit Conversion Diary!

It’s been three weeks exactly since my new little guy was born. I’ve been out of writing commission as we adjust to our new family dynamic and I recover from pregnancy and childbirth. I’ve tried to dust the cobwebs off the computer a few times, but finding time to sit down and actually write amidst all the obligations of caring for a newborn and three other kids — including a toddler who has spent most of the past two weeks in tantrum mode — is like learning a bunch of new dance steps for a routine that already required some fancy footwork.

But before I write a post about the laundry list of our family’s exciting new adventures… like seeing how many children can be crying at the same time (so far, we’re at three out of four, but I’m hoping to go four for four any day now), I wanted to hold true to my promise in my birth announcement to give a recap of the events leading into and including the birth of our little son, Caleb Stephen, especially to highlight God’s timing once again when it came to my labor and delivery.

Here’s the lowdown.

The week was a waiting game as I continued to endure ongoing contractions that intensified and died out, but never progressed into any formal labor (we like to call that nature’s way of teasing me into insanity true surrender). As I approached 39 weeks, I realized how little control I had over the holding pattern… but praying hard and whining a lot does make a difference.

In many ways, it was fitting. Holy Week is a time of anticipation laced with both somberness and hope. On one hand, it marks the countdown to the Passion and Death of Jesus. And on a personal note, while the actual date of April 12 doesn’t always coincide, the liturgical season marks the anniversary of losing my dad suddenly on Holy Thursday night. That has always made the final days leading up to Easter very stressful for me.

On the other hand, it’s the preparation for what is really the crowning moment for humanity in all of history and time: The Resurrection. Easter is a joyous commemoration of a reality that is so hard to wrap your mind around, it can sometimes be easier just to focus on the secular traditions that are wrapped into the religious holiday… like jelly beans and egg hunts.

With my last birth, we had a remarkable mini-miracle. My mom showed up on our doorstep unannounced two days before our due date because she just felt like she had to be there. By 9:40 a.m. the next day, our daughter was born in my first homebirth.

This time around, I wondered if God would capitalize on that maternal instinct once again to help everything align so that I could deliver our baby while my mom was in town.

She arrived on Tuesday of Holy Week, so my husband and I made a beeline for our favorite Italian restaurant to have what would likely be our last date for some time.

On Holy Thursday, my hubby stayed late at work to get things in order for his furlough week coming up after Easter. This meant our little family tradition of washing each other’s feet would have to be postponed until Good Friday.

On Good Friday, we also went to a live Stations of the Cross. It clearly inspired our 5-year-old, Donovan, who said this at the end of the 40-minute service:

“Wow, I liked that. It was short…but it was still holy.”

Indeed.

For dinner on Good Friday, we ordered fish and chips from the 5-star take-out establishment, Long John Silver’s. What else would you expect from a woman who is 39 weeks pregnant? And as we ate, Steve read from the Gospel of John.

Once we got the kids down, the grown-ups sat down to watch the Passion of the Christ, something Steve and I have done every year since the movie came out on DVD.

When Saturday arrived, I had a burst of energy, despite another restless night. I made breakfast for my family and did a little housework. By lunch, I was feeling some contractions, but nothing I hadn’t been experiencing for the past month off and on. So I didn’t think twice about going to Target with my hubby to get a couple final items for the kids’ Easter baskets.

When Steve saw me standing in front of the action figures breathing through another contraction that had started going into my back, he said, “Uh, I think we need to get home now.”

When we got home at little after 2 p.m., we napped for about an hour-and-a-half. As with my last labor, I was able to sleep in between contractions.

I got up and took a shower, still not fully convinced I was in active labor. We decided to start setting up the room for a home birth, including inflating the pool and preparing the bed.

As it approached dinner time, my mom took the kids out to the restaurant of their choice: IHOP. No, that’s not a typo; they honestly picked the International House of Pancakes for their dinner option.

Things began to progress, and Steve called my midwife at 6:50 (time stamp on his cell phone confirms this). When he hung up and said, “Sue’s on her way,” I began to cry. The anticipation, the worry, the pain, the strength, the reality – all of this flooded over me. I was going to do this thing again. I was going to go through what I’ve gone through three times before. I would endure the greatest physical challenge I’ve ever experienced to be a vessel for true love to literally gush forth in the form of blood and water – just like Christ. And with each contraction, I would be one step closer… one prayer closer to shedding blood for new life – just like Christ.

It would be a Good Friday that leads to an Easter Sunday. It would be an opportunity for me in each moment I felt I could go no further to unite my suffering with those whose intentions I promised to offer up and place them all at the foot of the cross where full surrender yields the greatest empowerment.

And within minutes after I had uttered to my husband that I felt the need to push, my midwife arrived. She checked me and announced that she didn’t feel any cervix, which immediately sent me into a panic.

“What does that mean?” I was thinking, Great, now I have no cervix! Where did it go? This is going to make things even more complicated!

Labor has the tendency to turn an otherwise bright woman into a moron. Fortunately, my midwife reworded her comment.

“I mean you’re fully dilated; you’re ready to go.”

That was all I needed.

“Well, what are we waiting for? Let’s do this. Let’s do this,” I said as I climbed into the pool, consumed by half-breaths I could barely catch. There is an odd pairing of great fear and great confidence in those moments just before delivery. I felt like a child lost for the first time and yet within the sniffles comes a determined moxie of a four-star general ready to issue the go for attack.

It is in these moments when I encounter the edge of Heaven. A woman who is about to give birth is so closely in tune to her body and yet so disconnected. There is a transcendence that occurs. You are one with yourself and your feminine genius, and yet at the mercy of something that seems almost unbearable, something that cannot be accomplished without the grace and might that comes from God and His design.

This is why I wish not to anesthetize the experience for anything. That is why there is nothing I have ever done… ever will do… that exemplifies the beauty and fortitude and power of the female body — of the human body for that matter — like that of carrying and bearing new life.

I heard my midwife say at one point, “I can do all things…,” and my husband joined in, … “through Him who…” and the remaining words dripped out of my mouth: “… strengthens me!”

My husband is my rock!

Eleven minutes later, at 7:50 p.m., our baby boy arrived.

I don’t mean to brag, but this kid is strong!

One woman I know made a connection I thought was truly profound. At the very moment I was in labor and giving birth to a new life in water, thousands of people coming into the Catholic Church were receiving the Sacrament of Baptism during the Easter Vigil – receiving new life by being “born of water and spirit.”

I cannot explain the high I was on. We called my mom and told her she had a new grandson and that she should bring the kids home to meet their baby brother… the newest member of our family.

Michael even got to help measure Caleb’s length.

Getting weighed.

And I’m in love all over again.

So how was your Easter?

Born at home on Saturday March 30, 2013 at 7:50 p.m. 7 pounds, 6 ounces; 18 3/4 inches long.

More details about our week leading into this very special Holy Saturday night to come…

Thank you for your prayers. We are so blessed! Happy Easter.

Sometimes he really nails it on the head. Other times, you could say he has opened his mouth without having a firm grasp on what he’s talking about.

The latter is the case today.

5-year-old: “Guess what, Trenton and Alex were a little confused; they thought that Easter was about more than having fun, which is good. But they thought it was about Jesus’ death. I told them, ‘No, it’s about Jesus rising from the dead — Christmas is about His death.’”

Steve and I simultaneously: “Well, no, remember, Christmas is about His birth.”

5-year-old: “Oh… yeah, that’s right. When did Jesus die?”

7-year-old brother: “Good Friday is when He died.”

5-year-old: “Oh (pause to think about his dilemma). I will have to tell them that. Now they might be more confused.”

A good reminder that to defend your faith, you have to get your facts straight. What a tragedy that so many people have rejected their own Catholic faith or been unwilling to look into it because they were simply misinformed by somebody who was poorly educated in it.

So go to the source. The Catechism is a good place to start. But sites like CatholicAnswers can help edify and clarify, especially on hot-button issues of the day, doctrinal questions, or theological apologetics. And read solid publications like National Catholic Register to stay current on Church-related news and information rather than relying on mainstream media, which is notorious for pushing its own agenda, twisting facts, or downright sharing inaccurate information about what the Church believes, and more importantly, why.

Let us answer the call to the New Evangelization. Know what you are talking about, and do not be afraid to go out and help spread the Truth to a world in desperate need of it.

Blessed Holy Thursday to everyone.

— 1 —

Soooooo, I’m 38 weeks pregnant today. Last night I thought I might… possibly… perhaps… if I was lucky be starting labor, but alas, after doing this three times, it seems I still don’t quite know whether it’s the real deal or I’ve just been on my feet too much that day.

Now, I had reason to think labor could be commencing because my second son was born at the 38 week check-up, so now, whenever I hit this point in pregnancy, I begin to use the Force (my personal desire to end pregnancy, hold my baby, and get my body back so I am not up peeing 12 times a night and telling random people that I think my pubic bone is going to crack!) to make the perpetual Braxton Hicks I seem to have from 34 weeks onward turn into actual labor.

It was a long night of timing contractions that came on anywhere from every five minutes to every 20. And then they started to die out around the time our daughter climbed into bed with us announcing that she was hungry.

My husband and I are very, very tired.

38 weeks pregnant!

— 2 —

The good news about not going into labor last night (other than the fact that I get to continue waddling everywhere I go –  hooray) is that I still have time to post my solicitation for prayer intentions, which I offer up on each contraction. I already have two sides of a notebook page and another started full of requests.

My mother-in-law first introduced me to this idea when I was pregnant with our first child in 2005. It turned out to be one of the best pieces of advice I received regarding labor, especially because I do the natural childbirth thing, and with my first son my water broke first, so I had a dry labor for 10 hours — horrible. I didn’t think I’d survive. But with each contraction, my husband would just read off our list of prayer intentions, and that helped me focus through them.

Personally, I think offering up each contraction is a way to unite our suffering with Christ and turn it into a redemptive act. But this is why I feel it loses some of its impact if labor has been anesthetized by medication.

So while I highly encourage women to use their contractions as opportunities to pray for others, I would definitely say that offering up something you only see on a machine rather than experience in its raw state may not produce the same sense of empowered surrender. And no, I’m not passing judgement at all on anyone who chooses epidural. In fact, I’m trying to point out that for any woman who may think she can’t make it through without drugs but is considering it, she might be surprised what she is capable of when she assigns her contractions worth beyond just the painful process toward birth.

— 3 —

Okay, another health update: Seriously, I’m totally on the verge of going all Howard Hughes. We battled three weeks of sickness in our household, and it doesn’t seem to end. It seems everyone we know has something, and we all just keep sharing the love.

This past weekend, my toddler came down with the tummy bug her little friend had the week before, and now my oldest son has it. I have so many friends who have been doing the month-long tango with germs too, and I’ve come to the conclusion that my best course of action going forward needs to be hibernation from the world. I don’t know how much those bubble houses cost, but I’m considering an investment.

Well, that is, I was until I spent my kids’ college fund at Sprouts this afternoon restocking our supplements –including zinc, vitamin C, multivitamins, cod liver oil, and probiotics. If you had told me 20 years ago that I would pay the price of dinner and a movie for bacteria in a bottle, I would have said you were nuts.

— 4 —

Speaking of nuts (how’s that for a transition), want to know what’s on a pregnant woman’s nightstand? Here is a picture of mine, which has a four-pound bag of trail mix (purchased for me by my dear friend Sharon) ready for those nighttime hunger pangs and sustenance during labor. I’m pretty sure I sound like the Cookie Monster at 3 a.m. as I dig into this bag. It has real M&Ms — not those generic candy-covered chocolates that taste like… generic candy-covered chocolates. I’m missing my bottle of water, but note also the stopwatch, the cool flying saucer touch light, the hand sanitizer, the tissue, and of course, the “Tums…Tu… Tum…Tums… TUMS!”

— 5 —

Here is what the corner of our room looks like. Since I’m having a home birth, I have a home birth kit, which includes the birth pool, the pump to inflate the pool, the hose and converter to fill up the pool from the shower, towels, rags, paint tarps for the floor, liners for the bed, some ibuprofen for after birth, massage oil, extra sheets, newborn diapers and outfit, receiving blankets, a throw-up bucket (just in case), and my midwife’s birth kit that has things she will use or give me during and following labor – like the vitamin K shot for my baby, herbs for my peri-bottle, and the always dignifying (and sexy) diaper-like undies we ladies get to wear post-birth. Hey, I’m just telling it like it is, friends.

— 6 —

In other news, my conversion story shared in the Catholic Sun back in December was somehow picked up by a Spanish reporter. He emailed me and asked if I would be willing to share a more in-depth account for the Catholic online magazine he writes for in Spain and apparently read all over the Latin world. In fact, I received an email from someone in Peru not hours after it was published, which was really cool because my grandfather, whom I never met, was from Peru… and he was Catholic! Just goes to show that the call to this one true faith was already genetically embedded in my soul.

Anyway, I was honored (especially since our awesome new Pope Francis is from Argentina) to have the article written but a bit embarrassed, since I knew I would not be able to actually read the story once it was published.

Yeah, I’m the bright girl who grew up in Southern California and now resides in Arizona but somehow thought to take German as my foreign language in high school instead of Spanish. Chalk that up to one of my many “you-didn’t-think-this-through-very-well-did-you?” decisions. “Nein!”

Anyway, if you happen to sprechen Sie Spanish, you can check out the story here. If you’re a monolingual moron like myself, don’t try to use the translate option in Google because it disjoints the grammar… like turning my gender pronoun into a “he.”

— 7 —

Okay, don’t forget to send me your intentions if you have any. My list is long, and it is my hope that my labor won’t be, but be assured that we will always, one way or another, name whatever is on the list in our petitions.

The countdown is on…

Thanks, Jen, for hosting. For more Quick Takes, visit Conversion Diary!

Marco (to his son): “I love Jesus more than anything. I hope one day, you will love Him, too.

Junior: “I do love Jesus more than anything – I love Him more than penguins.”

Now that’s love.

First Love: The Son of God and Savior of the world.

Close Second: A cute bird that lives in the Antarctic.

Steve (whispering over Michael’s ear as he lay in his bed): “Michael, I just wanted to say thank you for having a really good day and doing a great job at Mass this morning…”

Michael (popping up and interrupting): “Daddy, your breath smells bad.”

Steve: “Okay, thank you for telling me that. I will block it. (putting his hand over his mouth) Anyway, I just wanted to say thank you and that I love…”

Michael (popping up again): “You should really brush your tongue better. I think that would help.”

— 1 —

This week’s 7 Quick Takes was started several weeks ago. Then life got crazy. Then my kids got sick. Then my husband and I got sick right on the top of it! And we’ve been in lock down every since. I’ve been recovering from respiratory and urinary tract infections that landed me in the hospital for a day enjoying pokes and prods, IV, and baby monitoring.

Fortunately, the clouds have parted, and I can see the light. Well, actually, today it’s raining and thundering, but in my little world, I can finally say I’m feeling better. And my one son’s double infection and double pink eye are better, as are my other son’s throat and eye infection. My husband’s cough is almost gone, and my toddler only wakes up hacking at night.

We were blessed to have several homeschooling families offer to bring us meals this past week as I recovered. I can’t believe how generous some of these women are. There must be something about homeschooling because it was only homeschooling moms who took time out of their already extremely busy lives to prepare meals and bring them to us… and many I only knew in passing. These weren’t best friends or family members. These were just fellow Catholic women stepping up and giving of their time and effort to help another in need. I was touched and humbled by their generous hearts.

Now I’m in a disinfecting frenzy. Unfortunately, I don’t quite have all my strength back, so my cleaning bursts are short lived. At least with this storm, we can throw open all the windows and clear out the house with strong breezes. It’s so refreshing.

— 2 —

So here’s the clincher about our recent family illness. My mom, who lives in California, flew out over the weekend to try to help us out. She literally put herself in harm’s way and exposed herself to all the germs to take care of my little family. Talk about maternal instinct. This is the same woman who drove out unannounced across the desert the Thursday before my due date with my third child because she just had a “hunch” that she needed to be there.

I went into labor that night. And my mom was there in the morning to take our boys outside to play so I could give birth in my room without my husband trying to find somebody to come pick them up in time.

So this past weekend, my mom went back to California and promptly came down with this horrible virus. If you have some extra prayers, please keep my mom in them. She sacrificed herself to be a true mother to us all, and now she must endure the next several days of this nasty bug without anyone taking care of her. I ordered groceries to be delivered and called her apartment manager to make sure she checks in on her, but it’s not the same as having someone who can bring you a Popsicle while you’re curled up in bed and wash your laundry.

— 3 —

At the beginning of Lent, my husband and I started a 33-day Marian consecration called 33 Days to Morning Glory, scheduled to end on the next feast day, March 25. It has already been a positive experience, and I highly recommend anyone who has considered consecrating themselves or their family to Mary to use this book as a preparation and guideline.

Mary was the first “believer,” truly the best example of saying yes to Christ. She was the one and only physical vessel through which the incarnation happened, and as such, a conduit for the Word made flesh. Christ thought enough of her to enter into her womb – what is meant to be the safe-haven for every person in their most vulnerable time of life. Would we dare suggest that we don’t need the womb-like protection and intercession of our spiritual mother who bore the very Savior we profess to adore, exalt, and bow down to?

— 4 —

I’m a proud Mama myself. A couple weeks ago, my oldest son completed his 100 Easy Lessons, his reading textbook we’ve been using off and on for the past year and a half or so. To understand how big this is, you have to know how quickly my son informed me that he would never learn to read when we first started homeschooling. Perhaps it’s because his mother was a gymnast whose perfectionist personality is actually a genetic defect she handed down to her firstborn; but whatever the reason, he was convinced that because he couldn’t do it right away with ease, it would certainly never come.

So to honor the fact that he officially does know how to read… and quite well, we got him the logical gift: a Rancor monster from the Star Wars movies.

That’s right. Pretty obvious and better than a certificate of appreciation, wouldn’t you agree? I mean, just because he hasn’t seen a single movie yet and often thinks Obi-Wan Kenobi is named Swamp-enobi is no reason to think he wouldn’t go goo-goo over this rather frightening creature.

He and his younger brother only recently became obsessed with the characters after visiting their aunt and uncle’s house and playing with the villages their uncle built. Their younger cousin has also been a fan for some time (we got her a Darth Vader costume for her birthday last summer, and all the kids enjoyed homemade light sabers created by my brother-in-law at the birthday party). So since my son’s birthday and Christmas are both months away, it was perfect timing when my other brother-in-law came across this great find online just as my little guy was completing his reading lessons. Score!

— 5 —

I’m 36 weeks pregnant! I got to pick up my birth kit and birthing pool from my midwife today, which is always a reality check – that point where it occurs to me that I am actually going to go through labor and delivery again very soon. Okay, why don’t we all calm down? There’s no need to panic thinking about contractions… and contractions… and contractions. My body is made for this. I will do this. I will push a human being out of my body in what appears to be a process that defies all natural law, announcing only 17 times that I am sure I am going to die. I will be victorious.

The good news: I’ll have that body, which has been on loan for nine months, returned to me very soon… in very used condition. And there will be this precious little new addition to our family, to the world, who will nestle into my arms at the end of it.

Oh, but those contractions.

— 6 —

I’d like to extend a special welcome to morning sickness, which has returned for some reason at the end of this pregnancy. Seems my heartburn was lonely. At least I’m up peeing every couple hours in the night – that helps.

— 7 —

Braxton Hicks! Enough said.

Thanks, Jen, for hosting. For more Quick Takes, visit Conversion Diary!