Thoughts in progress

In my blogging I have about 10 posts that I have started and not completed. I'm starting this one today, and I am going to post it in it's incompleteness (is that a word?).

Today I have this nagging feeling that I am nothing more than ordinary. Isn't that just awful?

That thought made me think of something else... 8 years ago I was winding up my spring semester at DeSales. I was preparing to graduate and at the end of the coming summer I would get married. I got married August 2002 and started working at Cardinal Brennan Jr/Sr HS two weeks after I married. Then by October I found out I was pregnant and the following May my daughter was born. That June we bought our first house.

So in 13 months time I graduated college, got married, moved from Paul's bachelor pad to a new apartment, started working a real job, had a baby, and bought a house. A whirlwind of a year to say the least.

It was either that first year or the second year at CB that one of my fellow teachers was griping about her idealistic daughter, who was at-risk of falling in love and wanting to marry. She went on to explain that she wouldn't deal with her daughter getting married so young and having kids right away. She simply couldn't allow for her daughter to be so foolish. After a while, I dared ask her how old her daughter was it turns out she was 24 (I think). At the time I was 23. So boldly I asked, Does that mean that I am foolish? This teacher stood up from the lunch table looked at me and said, absolutely! And then she left the room.

So was I a fool?

(to be continued, I have to take Son #1 to pre-school)

(several months later)

I will always feel sad for people who judge so harshly. I wasn't a fool. I am not a fool. well.... maybe sometimes. But when it comes to the decisions I have made that have landed me here. I don't regret a single one of them.

I'm going to be 30 next month. For some strange reason this is hitting me really hard. My sister-in-law spoke encouraging words saying how much she has loved the last 5 years of her life and they were so much better than her 20's.

My problem is I rocked it in my 20's I got married and had 4 awesome kids. She's doing all of that now in her 30's. I don't regret not waiting (and I don't guess she regrets waiting).

So that ordinary feeling continues to haunt me. I resist saying "I'm just a mom." But there are days where that's all I feel I am. Like today. I'm feeling it.

My name is ....

Mom
Stephen will say my name until I answer him verbally with a "what." He will say Mom about 100 times if that's what it takes. Then he will share his story with me.
At bedtime I whisper I love you to each of my children. Most of the time they come back with "I love you too Mom."
I love that name. I love hearing it from my children. I don't vividly remember the first time each of my kids said it, but I recall that feeling it gave me. The "yes, I am your mom, and it feels good to know that," feeling.

Being a mom is hard. You could have told me that before I had my first and it wouldn't have stopped me. It's one of those things that you have to experience to understand. I describe to you all of the challenges I have faced and will continue to face, but you won't/can't get it until you are facing them yourself. Yes, being a mom is hard. It takes a lot of sacrifice.

I am a mom... That realization still shocks me from time to time. I'm sitting there surrounded by four lovely kids and they are all calling me MOM.

October 2002: After being married on two months we find out that we are pregnant. Oh wow! The next several months are a whirlwind of excitement and anticipation.

May 17, 2003: After having contractions all night we called the Dr who said we should get ready to go to the hospital. I look at Paul and say: Okay, now I'm nervous.

It's true, I wasn't nervous one bit until it the moment had arrived. Until that moment all I had were some alien movements in my grotesquely misshapen body. I didn't have a fairytale reaction to pregnancy. I didn't coo over my growing tummy, I didn't cry over the ultrasound photos, I didn't talk to my belly thinking about my babe. I just rode the waves. I traveled through it and until the last 3 weeks I had zero complications. For me, it was just another day... But then that fateful moment arrived. A child was coming out of me and I was going to be its mother. Now, I'm scared.

May 18, 2003 3:30 am: My daughter Catherine arrived. She is mine to hold. Mine to care for. My responsibility. I am her mother, and no one else can lay claim to her.

As I said, I don't remember the day she or any of her brothers first said "mom." But that doesn't really matter now does it? They know who I am long before they can say it. Those late nights when we just gaze at each other through feedings. I'm not just a women with a bottle, I am their comfort. No one can calm my babe the way I can. How about when their eyes follow you around the room? Or when they cry when you step out of their field of vision? Yes, they know I am mother, long before they can say it.

And now, with my kids at 3s, 4, and 6 they can say it. Most of the time I hear my name in the most ordinary of fashions.

Mom, I'm hungry?

Mom!? Where are you?

Mom, can we watch a movie?

Then there's the whine...

mooooooom, I want....

mooooooooooom, can you please let me....

Sometimes they are mad.

But mom, that's not fair.

But mom I wanna

MOM!

Yup, it starts early and continues on. I have yet to hear "I hate you," and I pray for strength to handle it if that day comes. I also pray that my kids never feel the need to say it. Yes, they will be angry at me. Yes, we will fight. Yes, they will love me for it all.

Those bad days are minimal compared to the good ones. The good ones are filled with laughter and joy and affection (verbal and physical).

I marvel at being a mom... the power bestowed on me... the trust given... I have four souls to form... for beauties to love... to nurture.... I am a mom... and will be one until death...

(Disclaimer: I feel exclusive when writing this but only because I can't think and feel for my husband. When talking about the connectivity shared between my and my children I don't intend to exclude Paul. From my point of view he is as every bit as connected to our children as I am. Those late nights with infants? I didn't do them on my own. We took turns. When I say I am the only one who could comfort my child, really that includes Paul too. In fact, (here's a first confession) when the twins were born I felt a total disconnect from David. Josh nursed and Dave didn't so Paul took on D while I took on J for the night feeds (and daytime when he was home). David cried for months and it was Paul that stayed up with him, night after night. ANYWAY, these thoughts are mine on motherhood but I dare not say any of this to detract away from the beauty of fatherhood)

St. David's Day, St. Stephen and Jonah

What do these three things have in common? In most circles they have nothing to do with each other (unless you can prove me wrong). In my world it's what's shouting at me today.
First, on Facebook a friend of mine posted that it's St. David's day. Did I read the post? Nope. She posted from wikipedia and I can't read that website. Infact, for some reason I have major issues reading most things off of the computer screen (and I want an e-reader...). I think it's because of all of the extra jargon thrown in on websites. Wiki, for example, is filled with blue links, and side bars, and it is far too jumpy for me. The more crap on the page the less I can read it. ANYWAY, I have a Butler's here on my desk so I think I will explore St. David today (being that my son is David, though his name inspiration came from the OT David).
I almost grabbed my Butler's to look for inspiration for a Blog post when The Bible jumped into my hands instead. This edition is not my well used on and only has one holy card in it, which happens to be St. Stephen. And St. Stephen is sitting in Jonah.
SO I opened the Bible and landed on this:
Out of my distress I called to the Lord, and he answered me; From the midst of the nether world I cried for help, and you heard my voice.
Hi God, how are you?
Sounds like your hearing me. Thanks for that.

To be honest... I am not feeling true distress. or maybe I am and just don't realize it. It's this whole selling the house thing.. It's getting to me already. Tomorrow will make 1 month that we've been on the market. We have had quite a few showings but no offers. I really want to get this done. I really want this house to be sold. I want to move on from here. I want the next house. I want the next chapter. I want to think about going back to work (which I won't do until after moving). I want to move on and I am feeling a bit stuck.
Last night I was looking at paint colors to paint the kitchen. I don't want to do it. Not because I like the current colors. I hate what I did to the kitchen. It's bright orange and yellow (which apparently is getting trendy?). I just don't want to put forth such a huge effort on a place I am trying to leave. And just what if I spend hours painting and someone buys the house and then repaints it anyway! How frustrating! Really, I don't want to do all this work for someone else to enjoy (or not).
And in the spirit of honesty, i don't want to take on this huge project by myself. Paul is not much of a painter, and I don't have anyone that I can ask to help. And really I need help in two places. 1. someone to take the kids and 2 someone to help with the painting. My kitchen is hugeish. There are lots of cabinets. Lot's of cleaning, sanding, priming, and painting. I'm burned out just thinking of it.
It's just too much. I really just need someone to go ahead and make an offer on the house before I start this painful process of painting...
So maybe I am stressed. God hears me... But I think I need to hear Him and let Him guide me on the right decision.