Full of Grace

One of my favorite aspects of the Catholic faith has always been the way we honor Mary, the mother of Jesus.

I love the meditative and reflective nature of the rosary.  I love that my religion accepts in faith that our spiritual mother continues her work on Earth.  And I love that my faith places the role of mother as one to be revered, respected and, indeed, honored.

As a mother wholly unlike any other, Mary accepted her challenge and burden with grace, humility and obedience.

There's a dirty word anymore, huh? Obedience.  We are strong, ego filled, individuals... and with God forever pushed from the forefront of our thoughts, we generally think of obedience as only pertaining to interaction from person to person; wife to husband, children to parents, employees to bosses and that idea gives us chills so we toss the entire word out the window.

But here's the kicker.  Mary, whom we call 'obedient' was anything but to the societal mores of her time.

From getting pregnant out of wedlock to allowing her son to question elders, Mary, in trusting God, broke rule after rule.

She was completely alone in her situation and had to trust God entirely.  She had no parenting books like, 'Balancing mixed families, Deity and Stepfather under one roof.' Nor coffee dates where she could vent, "I know Cheryl, I'm sure little Matty is a hellraiser, but try telling God's Son to stop talking to angels and go to sleep."  And she couldn't even pull the, "it's your genes," frustration line to Joseph when Jesus had aversions to leeks and chickpeas.

(*not teaching theology of Jesus' diet.... just go with me here..)

Anyway, while contemplating Mary's incredible task, it dawned on me just how rare it is that I trust my own God given instincts in parenting.  I turn to the internet when the sniffles come on strong, I consider consulting a psychiatrist when discipline issues arise at school, I read books on birth order and giftedness and I compare subconsciously on Facebook to see if my kids vacations, activities and accolades are on par with their peers.

And suddenly I saw Mary in a new light, as a new kind of source of guidance.  Because, though, I am not raising God's child, I am raising children of God.  Do I have the faith to raise them as God intended, and not in response to the noise of societal norms around me?

Can I accept the uniqueness of my parenting situation?  Can I accept the individuality of each of my children? Relying on faith, love and grace can I raise them obedient to God's standards instead of popular standards of the day?  Can I accept that God gave me every gift and capability I need to raise them, teach them and guide them?

Can I, in turn, accept the God-given uniqueness of the situations of other mothers and not be so quick to judge, blame or assume?

And though each book, friend and counselor can be a gift from God in and of itself when I need help, can I let go of absolute control and truly trust in God's graces?

Can I toss aside the 'rules' of how to be the cool mom, envy of carpool drivers everywhere and instead listen to and Obey God's rules?

There is a cacophony in my head telling me no.  Telling me maybe just one more book, one more article, one more blog.  Maybe my kids need more activities? Maybe it is more important to be popular than kind?  Maybe they'd be more popular if I dressed cuter so other moms would want to hang out with me.  Maybe it is more important to be successful than giving?  Maybe I should be smart and teach them to look out for number one.  Maybe I'm doing every single thing wrong.  Maybe I should just give up because does what I do as a mom really matter anyway?  And Mary was such a great mom and look at what happened to her Son.  And even if I did matter, aren't we all going to die in climate change or WW3 or from the next flu anyway???  GAAAHHHHH

When the noise begins to deafen and chaos clouds my thoughts there is a small, gentle voice calling me and calming me.  And I remember why I began to write today.

One of my favorite aspects of the Catholic faith is that it taught me to ask help from Mary, ever faithful, ever full of grace.

     Gentle woman, quiet light,
     morning star, so strong and bright,
     gentle Mother, peaceful dove,
     teach us wisdom; teach us love.


If you were looking for something a little lighter... here are some clumsy cats. God wants me to teach my kids to laugh at animals falling down... right?

thanks for reading, 

-m

Sex. talk. fail.

I was totally ready.

I knew the ABCD's.

A-answer the question they ask.
B-be matter of fact.
C- cut the extraneous information.
D-don't be embarrassed or shaming or condescending.

Oh, and don't freeze, like me, today, in the car with all three kids (ages 7, 6 and 3), when the question came out of the freaking clear blue sky.

"How do babies get in tummies exactly?"

Now before we get to this one, let's just say that despite being ready... I had failed before.  For example, when my middle child at age 2 was sitting on the potty and was checking himself out.

"Mommy, what's this called."

"That is your penis." simple. I rule.

"No, not this," he said annoyed shoving his penis out of the way and taking hold of the package behind it... "THIS, what is this called?"

My mind reeled.  And I didn't have much mind left, 3 kids under 4, including a newborn, no sleep... (yes I'm giving lots of excuses... you'll know why in the end I feel excuses are necessary)

anyway, do I say balls? no... testicles? scrotum? these are not 2-3 year old vocab are they?? and what came out of my mouth was bad.  It was really pretty bad.  And from that experience I learned that "I don't know, ask your father," will be my go to answer for all male anatomy questions from then on.

I fared a little better when my other, less detail oriented 3 yr old son was a witness to me sitting on the potty.

-Side note, gotta admit that I can't wait for when going to the bathroom no longer requires an audience.-

"Mommy, are you going poop?"
"um, no, buddy I'm going pee pee, can I have some privacy?"
"Wait, you can not go pee pee, you do not have a penis."
"Well, that's true, but girls still go pee pee."
he looked confused for a bit but then worked it out in his head, "you go pee pee from your butt?"
"kind of,"
"Ha! that's weird." and he walked out.
 I consider that talk a success.

Fast forward back to the van with a couple failures, a couple successes under my belt.

I can do this.

I went through all the tips described above and immediately threw them out the window.  Surely people who said 'they'll be ready to know the truth when they ask,' forgot to think about the little siblings that may be around.

So I took a breath, reasoned that it was logical and simple, and said, "Love."

"When people get married and love each other very much, that makes a baby."

yup. I said it. And, I reasoned to myself... I wasn't exactly lying... people do call sex 'making love,' so indeed love does make a baby, hurray me.

Until, of course, the follow-ups start coming from the booster seated press corps.

B (age 6): "Wait wait, hold on. So you're saying people just really really love each other and a baby starts growing? just like that?"
M: (age 7): {heavy sigh} "No. There is obviously more to it than that, right mom?"

"uumm not really, I mean, yes, I guess, technically speaking there is more scientific stuff going on."

M: "Ok, well, that's what we want to know."
B: "yeah, we want the scientific details."
J (age 3): "sfientific Yeah!"

sweat is breaking out on my brow,  my hands are kneading the steering wheel like dough and I sound like a yogi. "ummmmmmmmmmmm."

My eldest saves me.

M: "Or... is it gross... like one of the gross things that girls have to deal with."
B: "Hey, boys deal with gross things.  We like mud and worms and..."
J: "poop! poop is gross!" (because he is helpful in all conversations these days.)
M: "No, boys, I mean there are some things... "
B: "I can understand anything you can!!"

and so it devolved into a glorious fight amongst themselves until we arrived at our destination and the focus immediately turned to the reason for our journey to the store.

So did I maybe leave it implied that sex was a gross thing to deal with later instead of a beautiful gift from God?

Damn straight I did.  And it bought me some sweet precious time.

Because the last thing I need is another fail... like telling my son his testes are called... sigh...
bon bons.

I'm praying he was too young to remember... but it will forever be my fault when he inexplicably giggles inappropriately when someone uses the phrase, "sitting at home eating bonbons."

thanks for reading and good luck on talks in your future

-m