Showing newest posts with label Encouragement for Moms. Show older posts
Showing newest posts with label Encouragement for Moms. Show older posts

Spiritual Detachment v. Attached Theory of Psychology

Blasted semantics. So many misunderstandings, especially in the online world, boil down to word choice.

I mentioned how difficult it was for me to write my latest column at Inside Catholic. A lot of it had to do with the fact that I was rehashing some painful memories in my past. But I also knew that whenever you bring up those two words "attachment parenting," you'd better brace yourself for some backlash. The very first time I ever participated in an online discussion in a forum, in fact, I mentioned I was an AP parent and immediately was pegged as a smothering mother who was insecure and was raising leeches for children. I wanted support with a weaning problem; I never expected to be chastised, especially in a Christian forum.

Then there was a time when I didn't for the first time agree with a prominent Catholic parenting expert and attachment parenting proponent I admire when he suggested the only surefire way to raise saints was to follow attachment parenting, which unfortunately has come to mean following a set of rigid rules when instead it should be focused on forming a loving, attached bond to our children. Yes, there are certain strategies, if you will, to build this bond, but there's no perfect form of parenting - unless you're God or maybe His Mother.

This same expert implied that children spaced closer than 2 1/2 to 3 years apart could not be loved as fully as they deserved. Well, ecological breastfeeding works for me as an organic way of spacing my children. Good for me. But I have a good friend who nurses on demand for nutrition and comfort; yet, her half-dozen children come quickly and predictably spaced about 16 months apart. And they are well-loved, blessed children. These blanket declarations are dangerous.

I hate it when moms attack. I hate the self-righteousness that can unfortunately emerge from the mouths of some attachment parents. But I hate it just as much when someone suggests me discussing my form (or the AP ideal I strive for) of parenting only makes other moms feel guilty or that I am too involved in my children's every waking hour.

This is when I want to be a detachment parent more than ever. I want to stop reading about all the theories and rules of good parenting. I want to stop convincing myself my children belong to me and not to God and that every mistake or every thing I do right is going to chip away or build up their selves and souls.

As I attempted to clarify in the combox following some of the negative feedback after the article, when I used the term in "detachment" in my column, I was referring to spiritual detachment. I have read a great deal about the attachment theory in psychology and never meant to underestimate the importance of forming a secure bond with our children or to suggest that parental love and sacrifice do not matter or make any difference in a child's life.

I remember long ago when we were attending counseling as a family and we were wondering what went wrong with my older brother. The counselor actually started to cry and said something about what a loving family we were and that that love had made a difference. She told my parents if my brother hadn't had that foundation of love and the strong familial bond, his addiction could have been so much worse. At the time, we could not imagine it being worse. But she was probably right.

When I wrote about how I now also practice "detachment" parenting, I was not suggesting I throw my children to the wolves and let them fend for themselves or that I believe I have no power to help shape their souls. I have a great responsibility as their mother. It's my duty every day to give in the hope that I can love them into loving and being good people. I do not want to raise "detached" children, but I do want to raise children who recognize the fruit of detachment. Of course, we should desire a strong bond with our children rather than a distant, detached one.

And, yet, I know from my personal experience and the pain I experienced growing up with a sick brother - and that is exactly what addiction is: a terrible, heartbreaking sickness - and witnessing the guilt and the what-ifs my parents wrestled with for a long time that we can do almost everything "right" and our children won't turn out the way we'd hoped or planned. We can blame ourselves. We can try to control them or manipulate them. We can see their behavior as evidence that we failed them and didn't give enough or that we were lousy parents who never formed a good bond. On the other hand, if they become great saints or noble humanitarians, we can fool ourselves into thinking it's because we were uber parents. Or, we can accept with God's grace that we were never in as much control as we would have liked to believe. Our children belong to God, not us. They grow up and become whom they were created to be in spite of us. Our primary goal should be to attach ourselves and our children to Christ. When we are too attached - in a spiritual sense - to people, their behavior, or things, we become anxious and contentment is elusive.

I'm sorry if my failings as a writer implied attachment parenting was in opposition with Church teachings or that we should detach ourselves from forming close relationships with our children. I don't agree with that at all. Attachment parenting is beautiful. As any regular reader of my blog knows, I work hard to embrace this style of parenting and have found it to be very fruitful. However, in my column or anywhere else I never mean to imply that following a set of rigid "rules" (i.e., wearing your baby/toddler) is the only way to be an attached parent. Children need love and lots of it. They need it even when they don't deserve it. We need to be like Christ and give that love freely. The way we give that kind of love manifests itself in different ways in different families. But however we choose to parent, when we stumble, we can't fear we've messed up our children for life. And if our little ones one day do grow up and leave the Church or to succumb to addiction or worse, we must turn them over to God's loving care. We must detach ourselves from believing we ruined them or that we can save them.

My hope is that my column and my words would encourage parents, not pit them against one another or have them quibble over parenting styles. Wherever you find yourself in your parenting path, keep close the words of Saint Teresa of Avila and let nothing disturb you. God alone suffices. Believing this and living this is at the heart of detachment parenting.

UPDATE: I should have been more clear that the somewhat negative feedback I received from this particular article was not cruel or even an attack. I'm sorry if my bringing up past negative feedback convuluded things.

I just found it unfortunate that anyone would feel that my use of the word "detachment" was suggesting I was promoting hands-off parenting or that the principles of AP were to be avoided. Yes, our children belong to God. But that doesn't free us from the responsibility of loving them with everything we've got. I know I'm rehashing the same things over and over, but that isn't what I meant to imply by using the phrase "detachment parenting." Our bodies are on loan from God, too, but we have the responsibility to take care of them. Our children are our greatest gifts. We must stay close enough to them so that our goodness, our love, and our faith might rub off on them. Our children are tenderly budding new lives, and we must nurture them in a loving way (however, we should be careful not to believe that how this love unfolds can or can't be defined by a label of any particular parenting philosophy).

We should try to nurture in an attentive way as a gardener might tend to a young sapling. This is my duty. It is central to my vocation. Yet, even in the most fertile soil things do not always grow as they should. This is when I hope I'd have the wisdom to leave the tending to the Master Gardener.


Searching for Rabbits

I wrote this column weeks ago, but it was a good reminder for me during a challenging week.

An excerpt: "I’m tempted to see my maternal missteps as global pronouncements of my failure to nurture my children right. But my children see no such thing. They forgive and they forget. Their mercy pours down on me like the spring rain that came later that same week we went looking for rabbits. I hate when my raw edges are exposed and I fall short of the mother I want to be, the mother I am called to be. But it’s my children who smooth out those edges by their very love for imperfect me and their knack at seeing things—good, hopeful things—that I don’t."

Please read the rest here.

 

Maternal Pacing

This post is a part of the inaugural Catholic Parenting Blog Carnival hosted by the lovely Maman A Droit. I was invited to submit a post tied loosely to the following Scripture: "Therefore, since we are surrounded with such a great cloud of witnesses, let us rid ourselves of every burden and sin that clings to us and persevere in running the race that lies before us." -Hebrews 12:1-2 (NAB Version)

Running used to be my favorite form of exercise. A chronic injury has sidelined me for several years, but I do hope to hit the pavement again one of these days. Although I never was a good sprinter despite my noble efforts on the high school track team, long distance running was something my body understood. While training to run a marathon, I was forced to master the power of pacing. I learned to not compare myself to others cruising ahead of me or those lagging behind. The only pace I was concerned with was my own and as my runs grew longer, I stopped paying much attention to the watch strapped upon my sweaty wrist. In fact, on the day of my first marathon, I decided to not wear a watch at all.


AthleteAs I was running mile upon mile, I didn’t look too far ahead. I didn’t concern myself if my legs would still be moving by mile 20 or if I’d ever make it to that mirage of a finish line. My legs did start to feel like putty, but somehow I pushed forward. My mind and my spirit took over when my body was faltering.

And eventually I finished the race.

Imagine my utter dismay when I saw that I crossed the finish line in under four hours.  After I gulped down some water, I celebrated my victory. But my triumph transcended a physical feat. I’d not only finished my first marathon, but I had rid myself of the sin of comparison or pride and persevered in running the race.

Crossing that finish line was a reminder that sprinting too far ahead only leads to burnout, injury, and disappointment.

People have a cliche way of saying something like how life is a marathon, not a sprint. Marathon running - where your mind takes over even when your body starts to sputter - made sense to me. Yet when I attempt to apply this principle to life, I frequently come out lacking.  I may have once been a long distance runner on the trails, but I’m a sprinter in life. Not only am I fast-paced, but I like to be in control, too.

And I sometimes pay far too much attention to what everybody else around me is doing.

Thankfully, parenthood has forced me to slow down, to let go of the illusion of control, and to focus more on what I can do than what I can’t do or what others can or can’t do.

It all started with labor.

When my husband and I were timing my contractions with our first child, it wasn’t making any sense. Despite having been a diligent student in my Bradley class who learned there was no such thing as a textbook labor, I began to doubt my body and my sporadic contractions, especially when my midwife reported I was having dysfunctional labor. Whatever that means. I briefly considered an epidural or Pitocin - anything to allow me to sprint ahead and to just hold my baby. Thankfully, my husband squeezed my hand - hard! harder! - and asked me if this is what I really wanted. It wasn’t, of course, so I persevered and was blessed to be able to have the natural childbirth I dreamed of.

My next two birth experiences were much better, partly because I now had an amazing midwife who empowered women to trust themselves and their bodies but also because I didn’t fight the process so much. I didn’t obsess over the timing of my contractions. I listened to my body and when it felt like I could not endure another moment of labor, I relied on the strength that lies in my soul, made that final big push, and then welcomed more babies into my arms.

If only everything in parenting was as simple as labor.

I’m sure some moms are in severe eye-rolling mode at this point but for me, labor was the more straightforward, empowering part of parenthood. So are the early weeks of motherhood when your baby’s needs and wants are one in the same, and everyone you know is bringing you meals and letting you nap and soak up the sweetness of your babe.  Things start to get more complicated when you’re on your own and they really get tough as your babies - all gooey grins and sweet coos - grow into willful people, sometimes mini versions of yourself, and you begin to see those parts of you that probably drive others crazy. Yet, your husband, your mom, your best pal, they somehow still love you.

And you still love your child - quirks, maddening defiance, and all.

Maybe I wanted parenting to be a straightforward sprint. If I did certain things - breastfed, implemented positive discipline, filled my little voids of wretched, endless penury with all the love I could - then poof! somehow we’d arrive from point A (a little, malleable human being) to point B (an upstanding, caring, faithful adult who would always remember to call her wonderful mom at least once a week).

But nothing is so black and white. Certainly not parenthood.

Mothering, nurturing these tiny souls God has entrusted with me, is most definitely a marathon, not a sprint. (Cliche, I know. Bear with me here. Remember I had a theme to stick to.) My children demand more than short bursts of love; they need a fountain of love, an endless supply that rains down on them even when they don’t deserve a drop of it. This means I have to keep on giving and giving, and a lot of times I don’t want to give, mostly because I’m just physically or emotionally exhausted. Sadly, sometimes I don’t give as much as I should. (Like this morning when I snuck out of bed early and within minutes of being downstairs I heard my 3-year-old take it upon herself to wake her baby sister. And then she proceeded to come down and want me, all of me, at right that moment. So much for a quiet morning. But I swear I heard a whisper in my heart: This is your chance to show love when you want to be selfish. This is a test. Well, I got a big fat "F.") Most of the time I do give, but I don’t always do it joyfully. At. All. But the good news is my children are givers, too. They certainly love me when I’m unlovable and  am guilty of rearing that ugly mommy monster head.

With three children under my belt, I like to (foolishly) think of myself as a more veteran mom who is slowing down a little more every day. In the trenches of motherhood, speed is highly overrated. If we’re always looking to the next milestone ahead, if we’re sprinting from one activity to the next, if we’re telling ourselves things will get easier, better when our child reaches this age or that age, we’re losing what is good and right with the moment.

As a marathon runner, I learned that too much speed was dangerous. If I pushed myself too hard for too long in the beginning of a practice run, I depleted my energy stores and had to slow way down to compensate. My body ended up paying for it, too. The same is true with parenting. Moving too fast isn’t good for you or your kids.  

Speed kills. It kills joy. It kills a child’s sense of wonder. It kills your sense of calm. And it will drive you mad.

So will comparing yourself to that “perfect” mom down the street or at your parish or the one with the blog you salivate over during your weak moments. As a runner, I learned to focus on my own pace not that of those around me. I’m learning to do the same as a mom and not pay nearly as much attention to the wrong “cloud of witnesses” - all those well-meaning, over-diagnosing “experts” who have the surefire solution to all of my and my children’s sleep woes or any other parental problem I might be grappling with.

Instead, I’m looking to the only cloud of witnesses that really matter - God, the saints, and of course, Our Blessed Mother who knows what it’s like to love until it hurts and to lose the one you love so much.

With God on my side, I’ll continue to find my pace, to plod, day by day, along this parenting path with perseverance and a whole lot of prayer, and it's my hope and my goal to always remember to slow down just a little bit so my kids and I have a chance to enjoy the scenery.

--

Don't forget to check out these other great Carnival of Catholic Parenting posts:

  • Julie @ Journey to the Simple Life talks about her struggles to be a positive witness through her speech in her post, Finding a New Way.
  • Heidi @ Extraordinary Moms Network reflects on why she turns to the cloud of witnesses in Sweet Mysteries of Life & Faith.
  • Cassie @ There's A Pickle in My Life talks about the temptation to let others' choices distract us from our own families in her post, Running the Race.
  • Maman A Droit compares the people who help her be a better parent to the people who helped her be a better cross-country runner years ago, in her post, Run Faster!



New Column

You can read my latest column at Inside Catholic: Mom the Missionary. Comments are open over there.

Have a good weekend, and happy Father's Day to all the dads out there. My husband and I have his end of the year party tomorrow night (date night - woo-hoo) and then on Sunday we'll be heading to check on our new money pit house. Have I mentioned we're in the process of renovating a house built in 1935? Fun (stressful) stuff! One of these days I'll share all the dirty, dusty details.

Oh, and forgive my typo in the title of my previous post (which is now fixed). One reason it's tough for moms to not make typos on their blogs: Chronic sleep deprivation.



A Good Excuse

The topic of extended breastfeeding (that is breastfeeding beyond one year) recently came up during a conversation with another mom. She asked me if I was getting tired of nursing my almost 14-month-old so much.
“Not at all,” I told her. “It’s the only quiet time I have during the day.”


I'm one of those moms who has always enjoyed nursing and has had no real problems other than making too much milk, and lately I value my little one's noshing sessions even more because they serve as mini retreats. While I oftentimes nurse on the go or when we’re in the midst of a craft, homeschooling, or story time, there are at least two times each day when Mary Elizabeth and I sneak away to withdraw into a cloistered calm together. My older girls know to quietly play while Mommy nurses their baby sister to sleep for her nap and in the evening for bedtime. During these hushed pockets in my noisy day filled with the energy of active, little girls, I often sit in a glider and gently rock my sweet baby as she nurses. 

Sometimes I read a book or fiddle with my iPhone, but usually I just watch Mary Elizabeth. I notice the way she starts out looking at me until her eyelids begin to grow heavy with each suck. Her long lashes usually flutter one last time before her green-blue eyes vanish beneath her delicate eyelids. Her breathing slows, and I feel her tummy rise and fall against my own and notice that our inhales and exhales often become synchronized. I watch her tiny, perfect ear wiggle as she sucks, and I hear small gulps, which start out almost frantic and then slow with her breathing, as my body nourishes her. Sometimes she pulls off, and I wait to see if her lips will continue to suck satisfied with just the memory of my breast. (They usually do.) Her hand often holds onto the fabric of my shirt or her fingers tightly grasp my finger, and her strength always surprises me. I love her hands, their softness, the tiny dimples where knuckles will one day emerge.

I cherish these moments together when I discern the smallest of details, when there are no distractions, when it is just my child and me set apart from the world discovering our own world where we exist only for each other.

I wish there were more of these moments. My baby has grown up so quickly. She’s morphing into a feisty toddler with her own agenda. She often has to compete for my attention just as her older sisters do at times, but nursing together - this is all ours where we find each other in a closed circle, and I am nothing but a mother and she is nothing but my baby. 

Lately I’ve been wondering when our next baby will come. I’m in no hurry. My body isn’t either. My cycle has not yet returned, and there are no signs that it’s on its way. A friend of mine who knew about my postpartum depression struggles long before I made the announcement in cyberspace called this fact grace. And I know she’s right. I needed some space, some grace to restore myself, to regain strength and energy and joy in the little things. Because most of my mothering life hinges on those little things.

Still, there’s a part of me that will always - no matter how exhausted or overwhelmed I may feel - long for a baby, a new beginning, a new narrative of hope that begins with conception. I also frequently find myself yearning for the secluded simplicity having a newborn brings to our home. When I have a newborn, I do little more than take care of my baby, myself, and my older children. We spend at least a month slowing our pace and finding a new rhythm. And I never feel guilty about how little I do outside of the home. With a newborn in our midst, I have a good excuse to say no to all of the outside distractions and requests. No to new freelance assignments. No to volunteer commitments. No to new blog posts. No to responding to every single email that finds its way to my inbox. No to tackling the entire heap of laundry in one day but yes to a few loads here and there. No to gourmet meals but yes to takeout or to something more simple like a fresh salad for dinner. No to any commitment or demand that takes me away from my baby or my family.

Yet, as I nursed my sweet soon-to-be toddler early this morning, I realized I don’t need a newborn to let me off the hook. Our family is entering a very busy season of our lives. I have a husband preparing for his oral boards who needs me around to offer support and to give our children extra attention in his absence. He will be starting a new job and a new chapter in his professional life in July. He needs me to be there for him. Easy-going, selfless man that he is, he won’t ever say he needs me, but I know I have the ability to make his life less stressful by seamlessly managing all of the domestic details, so he doesn't have to. I want him to come home to a place of peace and order. Right now my evenings must be free, I'm there for him when he wants to talk or needs me to handle some small task so he can free his mind to tackle work responsibilities.  


We have a big move next month into a house that must be made into a home. There are walls to be splashed with color. Carpets to be ripped out. A little girls' room to spruce up. Floors to polish. Boxes to be unpacked. A kitchen to organize. A yard (yes, our children's first yard!) to manicure. A schoolroom to be pieced together since I have my first official year of homeschooling just around the corner as well. 


I also have three little girls who need more of Mommy and less of that blogging-writing-cleaning-volunteering-leading-multitasking-lady. Oh, and I still do have that nursing baby of mine (whether she’s technically a toddler or not).
So, really, I have a perfectly good excuse to graciously say no to anything and everything that pulls me away from my vocation or zaps my precious stores of energy. It’s called a family.
I bet you have a good excuse, too. Start using it.




Rejection, Writing, and Motherhood


This post is for moms, writers, and writing moms. (And writer dads, too, if you're out there.)

elevated view of a waste paper bin with paper strewn around it
From time to time friends or blog readers ask for advice on writing (that is, getting paid to write).  I have a generic response in which I share some of my favorite resources and tips for writing a quality pitch or query letter. Then I tell the aspiring writer that nothing can teach you how to write or how to become a writer better than simply writing. I know, I know. That's not very original advice, but it's absolutely true. Sure, pursuing a journalism degree in college taught me a thing or two as did my job history working on-staff at a regional publication and my past medical writing and corporate/PR gigs (those actually taught me the kinds of things I don't enjoy writing). However, I learned and continue to learn the most from just putting myself out there. It's similar to mothering, actually. You can read every book on the shelf about child development and rearing, but the best way to learn how to be a mom is to become one. (More on how mothering and writing are alike in a moment.)

So that's what I always encourage aspiring writers to do: Put yourself out there. Write. Send out queries. If you're writing fiction, try to find an agent. Network with other writers and publishers. Blog if you find it helps your craft, or journal the old-fashioned way. Just keep writing, and reading, too. What we learn as readers - from what captivates us to what rivals Ambien in sleep-inducing potency - we use as writers.

After I deliver my freelance writing pep talk, I bring up something every writer fears: Rejection. If you want to be a published writer, you will face rejection. Count on it.

In the beginning, you'll likely see more rejections than "yes, we'd love to publish your article/book." It takes time to build relationships with editors as well as to build a clip file (AKA samples of your published work). Even after you've had a flurry of success, you'll still face rejection from time to time.

A few months ago I received a very nice email from an editor letting me know he was going to pass on a submission I'd passed along to him. In an obsessive moment (writers I can be a self-absorbed, over-analyzing bunch person), I reread my submission. No wonder he'd said, "No thanks." It was stale. That's been happening a lot lately. I'll blame it on a one-year-old who has slept through the night twice in her entire existence on this earth (if your baby's been sleeping through the night since six weeks, do not share your dreamy bliss with me. Have mercy on a poor, sleep-deprived soul).

Yet, as I've told fellow writers before, words, like babies, should not be forced out before they're ready.

In retrospect, the essay wasn't atrocious, but it was missing something critical: My voice. Lately, I've found myself in a bit of a writing rut. Forget the little mouse and cookies and milk bit. If you give a writer a deadline (and I have a big one coming up), they will forget how to write anything worth reading. Oh, she'll Twitter. She'll scrub toilets. She'll shoot off witty emails, but sit down and write something cerebral and/or meaningful? Forget about it.

Anyway, as I sit staring at a glaring, white screen, wondering why I can't think of anything - anything - to write, I start to think that maybe I should reinvent myself. I pick up a book from a favorite author, or I mosey on over to a blog that I love reading. That's it! I need to sound more like so-and-so. I write something I think is just great, but it's not me. It's precisely when I start trying to be something I'm not that my words begin to sound empty or forced or purple.

So I get rejected, and it stinks. It always does. I hated it when I was the nerd in sixth grade with the horrible perm, braces, and hairy legs (Mom wouldn't let me shave until I was 14; I have girls now and understand, Mom. Why was I in such a hurry to grow up?). You'd think after years of nerdiness and sending out queries and accumulating a pile of rejection letters, I'd get used to it. But I haven't. I hate it.

I know I'm not supposed to take it personally. Just like you're supposed to know your teenager doesn't really mean it when she shrieks, "I hate you!" (Not that my lovely, little ladies will ever, ever do that, although my five-year-old has started telling me, "You've ruined my day!" when I do something as horrible as insisting she has to have quiet time or has to stop jumping, lest she break her other arm). The audacity!). You know your children really do love you (the editor might not, but she may very well like you), but it still stings.

Now while I'm not suggesting bringing new words forth is half as miraculous as bringing new life into the world, my writing is a part of me, sometimes a prosaic part of me, but a part of me nonetheless. I don't just write a story (fiction is my first love) or piece together an essay, I give birth to it.

So imagine the angst, when, after hours of exhausting labor, the doctor (editor) slowly shakes her head and says, “Your baby is ugly."

You’re shocked. “No, it can’t be ugly,” you insist. “This is a part of me; that's my bloody heart and soul in your arms.”

To you, that baby is nothing short of perfection. It doesn't matter that she has three eyes. You don’t see that extra eyeball even when it’s staring right at you.

Later you probably do. (That's why writers are supposed to let their work marinate on the paper or screen before sending it off, but that's becoming tougher with the growth of Internet markets since there's a push to deliver timely content.)

Yes, after the euphoria of labor and clicking "save" on your computer wanes, like when I reread my most recent essay, you see that your "baby" isn't perfect. But it's not a complete lost cause either. And neither are you. (Besides, perfect is overrated. Perfect can be a bit boring, especially when it applies to children. I prefer children with personalities and wills - even if the battle of my will against theirs can be fierce at times.)

A few weeks ago I had an ugly mom moment, and I'm still having a hard time forgiving myself even though my daughters haven't given the incident any further thought. We were running late for a dentist appointment. The girls were dawdling and not listening. I was exasperated and tired from a rough night with the baby. I started barking orders. We all ended up on the verge of tears. It was not a pretty sight. Although I don't condone my kids' failure to listen to me, part of our problem is that I wasn't organized. I should have been more prepared for the rushed morning.

Maybe I've glamorized the past, but I don't remember having too many (any?) of these moments in my inaugural year of motherhood. Maybe because I was in denial; I was still in the "My newborn is beautiful" phase. But now I see that I'm the imperfect mom of imperfect children. These days, it's only when I expect my kiddos or myself to be perfect when we get in to trouble. (The aforementioned episode happened when Mommy and kids all revealed their humanness.)

So what am I getting at?

Bear with me: Remember I'm in a writing rut! :-)

I've just been thinking (way too much, obviously) about how both mothering and writing involve putting yourself out there, making yourself vulnerable as well as realizing you're not in control and you're definitely not perfect. You can be a great, nurturing mother, and your child still is going to let you down.

You can write your magnum opus, and it's still probably going to get rejected a few times before you land a book contract.

You can write a shoddy first-draft that somehow gets published any way.

You can goof big time and wound your child; yet, she wraps her arms around you and says, "I love you," or better yet, "I forgive you."

There's a certain risk involved in writing - and parenting. You will, at times, be rejected. Sometimes you'll be rewarded when you don't deserve it (my mom and dad often told me they learned early on to not take credit for the good their children did so they wouldn't have to take credit for the bad either). Your ego will be bruised. It will always hurt a little bit when someone shuns you (whether it's an editor or an angry teenager or in my case a melodramatic little girl). Sometimes it will make you wince. Sometimes you might shrug it off or even keep a good sense of humor and laugh at your writing and/or parental blunders.

What it always should do is force you to work on being better: A better person, a better writer. Not perfect, but an improved version of YOU. You are fearfully, wonderfully made. Your children are, too. And so are your words, but let them be your words, your voice and not anyone else's. Let your parenting style be your style and not Dr. Cry-It-Out or Dr. Kumbaya's.

As a writer, I used to keep my rejections as a reminder to be tenacious and to keep on pitching new ideas. As a mom, I used to think way too much about every single parenting choice I made - from what I fed my child to what books I read to them at bedtime - and how it would impact my child for better or worse. When my child misbehaved, I took it as a reflection of my parenting skills. When an editor rejected a pitch, it was absolutely because I was a lousy writer. I never considered that #1 it was just one lousy piece of writing or #2 it wasn't lousy at all, but the timing or topic just wasn't right for the publication.

These days I no longer keep a stash of rejections. I no longer obsess (constantly) over every parental move I make. I've learned to not dwell on my failures and stumbles and rejections. Nor do I see them as a sweeping declaration that my writing stinks or that I'm a mommy in need of remedial action.

But I don't completely forget them either. It's those rejections, those maternal mishaps that keep me humble. It's those unplanned moments when my kids surprise me with goodness (or completely bizarro behavior complete with flailing arms and pterodactyl screeching) that remind me that my children have wills of their own - wills that I cannot bend or break, but that I can, with the grace of God and a whole lot of prayers, help shape.

One of my big goals for this year is to stop comparing myself to others - other writers, other moms - and to just work on improving myself. I want to keep my voice in my writing. I want to be the kind of mom I feel called to be.

I've always loved the conclusion of Charlotte's Web when E.B. White (I'm on E.B. White kick lately) writes, "It is not often that someone comes along who is both a true friend and a good writer. Charlotte was both."

I'd like to hope that someday I might be considered both - a true friend to my husband, my children, all those I love and maybe, if I work hard and I'm lucky, a good writer, too.

If you enjoyed this post, get free updates by email or RSS.


Momopoly Book Club: The Handbook for Catholic Moms


Dear Readers,

I'm a bibliophile who always has her nose in a book or two. That's why I've decided to start the Momopoly Book Club. This will simply be a series of posts featuring different types of books, author interviews, book reviews, etc. In the combox, I welcome mini discussions of the book (if you've read it), book recommendations, or any bookish remark.

To kick off my book club, I'm featuring an interview with Lisa Hendey, mom, wife, blogger, podcaster, breast cancer survivor, founder of Catholic Mom and the author of The Handbook for Catholic Moms: Nurturing Your Heart, Mind, Body, and Soul. Here this multitasking maven chats about her book, the writing process, the challenges of motherhood, and more!

I've had the privilege of working with Lisa on several projects and also had the chance to meet her a few years back at the Catholic New Media Celebration. Lisa is a lively, passionate person who is eager to support women in their vocations as wives and mothers. And while her book's conversational tone matches her friendly personality, don't think for a minute that it's only full of fluff. Lisa has written a comprehensive book that covers everything from protecting yourself from identity theft to squeezing in time for fitness, prayer, and fun with your spouse. It truly is a handbook that every mom should have on their reference shelf.  It would make a lovely gift for a special mom in your life (Remember Mother's Day is Sunday, May 9th).

Without further ado, here's my recent interview with the ever-talented and amazing Lisa Hendey.

1. Tell us a little bit about your new book, The Handbook for Catholic Moms: Nurturing Your Heart, Mind, Body, and Soul. It almost appears to serve as a primer for "all things Catholic Mom." In fact, I feel like I now have a book that compiles many of the great wisdom and resources that is shared on your CatholicMom.com site. What prompted you to write the book? What are some of the topics you cover?

First of all Kate, thank you for the wonderful opportunity to share about my book with your readers!  As a fan of your blog, it’s very fun to be a guest on Momopoly,  I think you’re on target when you call The Handbook for Catholic Moms a great companion piece to CatholicMom.com.  This was our goal from the start with the book, to provide a lasting, cumulative resource that would serve as the “go to” reference for Catholic Moms.

I was encouraged to take on this project in collaboration with my wonderful publisher, Ave Maria Press, who recognized the work we’d accomplished through the website and wanted to provide me with an even larger and more lasting platform to support and encourage Catholic moms.  I can’t thank them enough for their belief in me and for their conviction that this was an important message to share.

As you know, the book is aimed at supporting and encouraging Catholic moms in their mothering vocation.  I am convinced that for us to truly serve our families, we need to nurture and take care of ourselves.  The book is divided into four sections: Heart, Mind, Body and Soul.  The Heart section looks at our relationships.  Mind explores all of the intellectual pursuits in a mom’s life – everything from career issues to handling family finances.  The Body section of the book urges a mom to care for herself physically.  The Soul section, my favorite part of the book, shares all of the wonderful treasures of our faith that can be used by a mom to nurture herself spiritually.

2. Why is there a need for a book of this nature?

In ten years of relating to women on CatholicMom.com, I’ve noticed that a mainstay of my work on the website is encouraging women who at times feel frustrated, burned out, confused, or even bitter about their roles as wife and mom.  We spend so much time and energy taking care of everyone else around us that we often neglect our own self-care.  Although our intentions are good, the results can be disastrous.   There are many wonderful parenting books on the market, both from Catholic and secular perspectives, but few of them look at a Catholic mom’s vocation from this particular perspective.

3. Who is your target audience for the book?


Thanks for asking!  I’ve been taken to task a few times recently from Catholic dads, grandfathers, and singles who feel “left out” by the title of my book.  But my true audience for this book is Catholic moms.  The amazing thing though, is that Catholic moms come in so many shapes and sizes.  We’ve attempted to provide something for moms of any age, and in any parenting situation.  The book reaches out to "stay at home” moms, career women, homeschoolers, and grandmothers.  We have also included resources for single mothers, those living in blended families, mothers of children with special needs, and foster and adoptive moms as well.  That being said, many of the topics discussed in the book are relevant to any Catholic, and many men have told me that they’ve benefited greatly from reading the book.

4. Your book features many anecdotes from other Catholic moms (and some Catholic men, too!). Why did you want to incorporate different voices in your book?

Kate, I am thrilled that you and so many other faith-filled Catholics are among my many “co-authors” for this book.  When I conceived the project, I knew from the outset that I wanted to get other voices involved.  This has been the largest contributing factor for the success and growth of CatholicMom.com, and I felt it was critical to the book project.

Honestly, as I share in the introduction to The Handbook for Catholic Moms, I do not consider myself to be the “expert” on Catholic parenting.  I wanted to share “real world” perspectives from my own life and from people I admired and respected.  Each chapter contains formal sidebar contributions on the topic being discussed, and those voices were hand selected after a great deal of consideration.  But the book also contains countless anecdotes from Catholic families literally around the world.  These were contributed via CatholicMom.com, Faith & Family, and my various social networking communities.   In our Church, there are so many different ways of living out the vocation to Catholic motherhood, and having more voices involved means that the book can serve moms in a more expansive and credible way.

5. What has been one of your biggest challenges as a Catholic wife and mom?

I believe the greatest challenges came when my sons Eric and Adam were younger, prior to my husband Greg’s joining the Catholic Church through the RCIA process.  I felt a great responsibility to raise my boys in the faith, and to share my love of our Church with them, but this also felt like a very large burden to carry on my own.

I was blessed beyond measure with a husband who was very supportive of their reception of the sacraments and very committed to their Catholic education.  But being the spiritual leader of my little domestic church often felt like a weight that was too heavy to carry on my own.  In retrospect, I see now that I really wasn’t doing it by myself, but at the time I often felt like a failure.  I judged myself too harshly, and I also let a lot of my frustration with the situation impact upon my relationship with my husband.   Greg’s conversion process and my own spiritual journey have helped me look at the situation with a bit more maturity than I had at that time.  I have a true heart for Catholic moms and dads who find themselves in this situation, and have tried to support and encourage them in my writing.

6.  Who have been some of your greatest positive influences in your journey as a Catholic mom and wife?

Without a doubt, my greatest influences have been my own parents, and specifically my mother, who is to me the template for a great “Catholic Mom." My parents have enjoyed a loving marriage and have raised five children who love and respect our Catholic Church.  I cherish them and the rest of my family with all of my heart.

My husband Greg and my teenage sons Eric and Adam are the lights of my life and have put up with my “on the job” training in learning what being a Catholic wife and mom really means.

Additionally, I have to thank our many contributors at CatholicMom.com, who minister to me and so many others every day with their generous sharing of their spirit and writing talents.  Women and men like you, Kate, make the CatholicMom.com website a spiritual home for so many families around the world!

I’m also blessed with two amazing sisters and a handful of girlfriends who are always present to support and encourage me, to celebrate my successes with me and to pick me up when I fall short.

7. What writers and/or books have inspired you (fiction or nonfiction) as writer, mom, and/or wife?

I have a great love for the Bible, and I truly feel that it is the single most important book in my library – I will spend a lifetime learning from it.  I love reading about the lives of the saints – my favorite priest gifted me his old copy of Butler’s Lives of the Saints, and it is one of my favorite books as well.  My life continues to be changed by the book Story of a Soul, the autobiography of St. Therese of Lisieux.

In terms of current authors, I’m blessed to have met and interviewed many of my favorites, and even to count some of them as friends.  I am inspired by Danielle Bean, Donna-Marie Cooper O’Boyle, Fr. Jim Martin, Amy Welborn, Matthew Kelly, Mark Hart and so many of our contemporary Catholic authors.  As a book lover, I’m incredibly lucky to come into contact every week with great Catholic writers!

8. I have several aspiring writers who read my blog. Could you please share a bit about your writing process? How long did you spend each day writing the book? What was the biggest challenge you faced during the writing process? Do you have any words of encouragement for other moms who are dreaming of being published?

Great question – being published was always one of my lifelong dreams, but I never believed it was a goal I would actually accomplish.  So holding the finished copy of The Handbook for Catholic Moms in my hands is still a joy that brings a smile to my face and tears to my eyes! 

Ironically, writing this book happened at the same time as the greatest health challenge of my life.  Last year, write before I began serious writing on the manuscript, I was diagnosed with DCIS, the most common form of non-invasive breast cancer.  My treatment consisted of surgery and seven weeks of daily radiation treatment.  I was fortunately able to continue working through my treatments, so my daily writing process was almost a retreat-like experience!  In January of 2009, I began my daily routine:  Drop my son Adam off at school, attend daily Mass, go to radiation, and then head to a local university library to write until it was time to pick up Adam at school.  I have a home office, but I found that getting out of my normal work environment enabled me to more fully focus on my book writing.  I began serious writing in January and was finished with the first draft of the book in mid April.  Honestly, with so many folks praying for me and contributing to the project, I felt like I had an entire team behind me!

Writing a book is a bit like having a baby in many ways [Note from Kate: It's so funny that Lisa said this because I have a draft of a long-winded post that compares the process of writing to labor and mothering! Stay tuned!].  When you are in the midst of the project, you often think, “Never again!”  And yet, when you are done, you can’t wait to do it again!

As far as words of encouragement, perhaps the greatest thing I could advise is that you pursue your dreams.  As moms, we often put our own dreams on hold to raise and serve our families – and yet, there are so many seasons in our lives.  If you love writing, practice your craft a bit each day – even if you only spend five minutes writing in a journal or blogging.  Cultivate and capture ideas for the treasures they are.  Always carry a small notebook with you – you never know when God will share a true pearl with you!  Find your voice.  Honestly, the books I love most are not the great spiritual treatises, but rather those that capture a sense of authenticity that gives me an insight into the author’s soul.  Write what you know.  Share your words with others, even if those others are your children, your sister, your best friend, or your husband.  And don’t give up – honestly I still can’t properly convey the many moments of grace that developed into me being a published author.  If it can happen in my life, it can happen to anyone! Pray prior to writing and always have the goal of glorifying God and serving others with your craft – if we have success in those two goals, everything else is gravy. 

9. If you had to give one piece of advice to a fellow Christian mom, what would it be?

Love God with all of your heart, mind and soul.  Love your husband and your children with every ounce of your fiber, but don’t neglect yourself in that process.  Find the happiness, the blessing, in every moment – don’t wish away the tough times, but rather embrace them for what they are.  Care for those you love most by taking care of yourself in your relationships, intellectually, physically and spiritually.

10. Anything else you'd like to add?


Thank you Kate, for this opportunity to visit, as well as for the wonderful way in which you minister to those of us who enjoy your writing!  I will keep you and your readers in my prayers.


For more info or to purchase Lisa's wonderful book, click on over here.

Oh, to be Two Again!

Toddler boy (2-4) on climbing frame, smiling, portraitWe've started something new in our home. Each morning we begin with a prayer and a discussion focused on a virtue. Since it's a new habit and because I often wake up feeling about as alert and spry as a slug, Madeline often reminds me that we need to do our prayer thingy.

This morning our virtue was responsibility, so I asked the girls, "What are some of your responsibilities?"

"To go to sleep," Madeline said.

"And to make your bed," I added.

"To clear the table," Madeline said.

Then two-year-old Rae piped in with big, bright eyes, "To play!"

I'm thankful there are little ones around here who remind us that life should never be all work and no play. Sometimes it really is our responsibility and our duty to focus on fun.

We all have a bit of spring fever around here, but I keep fighting the urge to enjoy this beautiful season. The worker ant in me keeps on saying that there's a lot of work to be done. We had two out of town weddings in the past two weeks. Yesterday we were in our new hometown where we'll transplant our roots to in June meeting with contractors. My recent blog posts were pre-scheduled, written long ago. I've had little time to write about much of anything. Or to do anything fun at all. My to-do list is overwhelming. Our school days have been all out of whack. I feel like I'm buried beneath laundry, paperwork, and the stress of looming changes.

But my kids haven't noticed a bit. Their to-do lists are simple: Get up. Get dressed. Eat. Go outside. Read books. Play. Play some more. Chase butterflies. Eat. Sleep. Giggle. Play. Play some more. Enjoy life. Have fun. Help Mommy to have fun, too.

They're too excited about our upcoming move to be stressed by it. They're busy smelling the freshly turned soil in our planters and watching the flowers break free from their buds. They're preoccupied with playing their new favorite, imaginary game they call "puppies" where they take out all their stuffed animal dogs and set them up in rows and groom and feed them. They're busy glorifying God by soaking up all the joy life has to offer. Playing is their responsibility, and it's my responsibility to make sure they get enough free time in their day to let them jump down the rabbit hole of their imaginations. Who knows where it will lead them? Who knows where it will lead me?

Lessons from an Internet Fast

Blue globe with email icons circling

As some of my regular readers might recall, I kicked off Lent this year with an Internet fast. It lasted a little over one week, although it wasn’t a true fast since I did permit myself a daily email check.

For several days, however, I went completely unplugged (no email, no fidgeting with iPhone apps, no computer-ish technology at all). These were good days. They were days that were marked more by what was left undone, unopened, and unsaid than by how many emails I'd responded to, how many blogs I'd read, or how much information I'd gleaned from the World Wide Web. They were days when the only hive of activity I paid any attention to was the happy buzz of my children.

During these days, I read more books than blogs. I talked to God, my children, and my husband more than I talked with my fingers flying across a keyboard.

There were no slow downloads to frustrate me (or my children who didn’t have to wait for Mommy’s slow downloads).

There was plenty of fresh air and giggles and sweet whispers I might have missed had the “noise” of technology drowned them out.

Yes, these were indeed good days, but they couldn’t last forever. To be a modern mom demands that I don’t completely sever myself from technology. Email and the Internet are a part of my life, my children’s life, and my husband’s life.

But what this weeklong fast and the subsequent limits on screen time during Lent did teach me is that I can and must keep technology (namely email and the limitless information on the Internet) from having too much control over me. I can and must find a way to marble it into my life without it becoming the focus of my life.

As Lent progressed, I realized I may have been too unrealistic and strict about my online time. Checking my email once a day, for instance, started adding more stress instead of less. Each time I checked my inbox, I panicked at the sheer number of emails. I also stressed out when I discovered an email from an "in real life" (what bloggers refer to as IRL) friend who needed something. While there was always a heap of junk mail, there were always a number of messages from friends who needed something yesterday. There were prayer requests and Evite invitations and notes from my homeschooling co-op.

Email has become the standard way of communicating. Whether I like this or not (and sometimes I do and sometimes I don’t), I can’t ignore this fact. Still, I knew I didn’t want my email account to control me or devour too much of my precious time. So I decided that maybe I should plan for two email checks a day - one to clear, archive, organize, etc. the messages and one session to answer to the emails that needed a more timely response. I hated to be too rigid, but I realized I needed to set a specific time frame to accomplish these tasks to keep me from getting too carried away in Email Land and from squandering the hours in my day as well as the time I should be devoting to serving my family. Unfinished sentences and email drafts were completely acceptable and even necessary if I was to fully embrace my primary vocation of being a wife and mother.

Now that Lent is over I’ve decided to continue to try to embrace a relaxed version of this “rule” for my everyday life. I’ll make plans to check my email in the morning, the midday, and possibly the evening but not much else during the day when I’m supposed to be fully present in my children’s lives. After all, what’s the point of being an at-home mom if I’m always “working” on the computer? Whatever I can’t get accomplished in a certain set of time will just have to wait (and wait and wait and wait, if necessary).

Likewise, I will not allow single emails to spiral into inordinate amounts of time spent online. Early on in Lent I received an email about something I’d written that started to cause me to worry (obsess?). It spurred me to break my “no commenting on blogs” fast (which was supposed to last for the duration of Lent, not just a week). I commented on a blog, and then felt like I had to send out just one more email to address the comment further. (Too often I fall into the trap of “just one more email.”)

Then I started talking to my husband about it.

As I rambled on about the comment, my subsequent comment, and then my email addressing my subsequent comment, I realized just how difficult detachment is, especially with something that you can’t completely live without but something that certainly shouldn’t have any control over you or keep you in shackles and from living a life of peace.

My mind was racing. My words were flying out of my mouth, and then my husband said it: “Let it go.”

Let. It. Go.

Easier said than done, but so, so worth the effort.

So I worked on letting it go, although it took a whole lot of willpower. I went completely unplugged for another day. It wasn't easy. And, of course, I started to wonder what else I’d be missing.

But when I caught something silly one of my daughters said, I thought for the first time that maybe I should have been thinking about what all I had been missing in life, not in my email inbox, by being tethered to the computer.

In fact, my moments of weakness were what helped the most to unblind me to just how dependent on technology I’d become. Computers, email, etc. are supposed to make my life easier. They’re supposed to make me better able to do necessary work more quickly, but I don’t work or do less. Instead, I too often use my boosted productivity as a reason to do more. My expectations of what I ought to accomplish in one day have been raised. I’m speeding ahead, clicking away, and I fear, missing out on so much.

We don’t like to be time killers, but the Internet can do just that - kill our time so that we have very little leftover to make real connections with the people whom we love to most.

With the dawn of the information age, we can “go” endless places. With just a few key strokes and the click of a mouse, we can arrive at social and intellectual destinations. We can find new friends on Facebook and carry on a “conversation” on Twitter. We can read about philosophy, cooking, art, or whatever is on our mind just by Googling it. Instant gratification has become the status quo. We no longer have to wait for much of anything.

Once upon a time, for example, I was forced to stay tuned to a radio station in hopes the DJ would play my favorite song. The alternative was waiting until I’d saved up enough money to buy the CD. Now I can just click over to iTunes and listen to my favorite songs whenever I want. I can even create my own radio station on Pandora. We used to have to look up stock market prices and sports scores in the morning paper. Now I can check box scores, stocks, the weather, virtually anything just on my iPhone. Dewey Decimal? Who’s (what’s?) that? Just Google it. Don’t waste your time at that primitive place called a library. We don’t even have to wait for nature to unfold its beauty. Instead, time lapsed photography shows us the bud swelling and bursting with colorful petals in a matter of seconds.

We can go anywhere, see virtually anything, meet new “friends,” engage in political discourse, find answers to so many of life’s questions.... But at what cost?

When the whole health care legislation went down during Lent, I found myself breaking my screen time rules left and right (pun sort of intended). I told myself it was because I needed to be informed.

Yet, there’s such a thing as TMI. I have a tech-savvy friend who is always connected who would disagree. She believes knowledge is power and the more you harvest off the Internet, the better. But to me there comes a point when there’s an inverse relationship between information and understanding. We’re now able to gather so much information that there just doesn’t seem to be enough room in our brains to process it. (Or maybe I'm the only mom out there who sometimes feels scattered and pulled in a million directions???)

The whole ethos of our culture is that if the technology exists, we should use it. And sometimes, a lot of times even, we should. During our house-hunting adventure, the Internet has been invaluable in helping us. Google Maps is great, and Zillow is chock full of useful information.

But it can swallow you whole, too. It can be so overwhelming. My husband and I were once looking at listings in our new town when we decided to check out houses in an old town where we used to live. We started looking at our old neighborhood and going on virtual tours of homes that were now on sale near our old street when I suddenly asked, "Why are we wasting time doing this?"

"I have no idea," my husband responded.

It's easy to hit the computer to look up a phone number or to find directions and then end up wasting inordinate amounts of time on other links that catch your eye. I walk away with all this new information, but I never had a chance to digest any of it. It's like trying to gulp down your Thanksgiving turkey and side dishes all at once. You end up full, but you missed all the different flavors. Besides, I don't want to gain only information; I want wisdom, and I don't think that Google can help us find much wisdom that easily.

Since my Lenten Internet fasting, I’m working on balance. I don’t want to miss out on some of the enriching, encouraging content to be found on blogs and elsewhere. I love how the Internet can faciliate relationships and reveal the Good News. Just recently I’ve been discovered several new e-friends who are kindred spirit as well as found an encouraging space where I’m free to be myself without the fear of being judged.

Yes, I love that the Internet allows me to meet incredible people I probably otherwise never would have encountered and to wander off to encouraging places; yet, when I really, really think about it, the only place I really want to find myself is nowhere a click of a mouse can take me. The people who matter to me the most are right in front of me. Where do I really like to find myself? In my home with my family. Outside in the sunshine. Lost in the pages of a good book. In the cloistered silence of the Adoration Chapel.

Sometimes I fantasize about my family making a home far away from it all and going completely off the grid. Then I start to think about how much I’d miss Target. :-) Seriously, I’m a realist. I know my leave-it-all-behind-forever fantasy is not practical. My family’s future is not in jam-making on some desolate plot of land. My husband has patients to serve. He's tied to his pager. I’m a mom and a writer. Both of which are solitary pursuits and demand I connect with others. The Internet makes that easy, and I truly do see it as a gift to me. But like most gifts, it can be abused.

So I’ve come up with a new set of guidelines to help me to ensure that I’m spending more time connecting with my real life and not only that one on the Web. Aside from scheduled email checks, I share some guidelines that evolved from my Lenten Internet fast:

Get outside every day.

When you’re stuck inside, especially if you live in a cozy (read: small) townhouse like we do, the computer can seem like the only vehicle to get you anywhere remotely exciting. When we stay within our walls too long, my kids get antsy and ask about TV. I, in turn, start reaching out to my e-friends or visiting “places” on the Web. If I’m really restless, I’m tempted to Google really random things like “how to build a canoe.” (Please tell me I'm not the only weirdo who does this.) But when we venture outside, we forget about technology. We pay attention to the way the wind is blowing or the color of the sky. We notice shapes in the clouds and ants crawling on the sidewalk. As a mom to three little ones, I can’t always travel to fun places like the zoo, but we can take a little time every day to explore our world - the real world not the one that is two-dimensional on the computer screen.


Don't feel like you have to respond to every email or comment you receive.

Read and be thankful of all of your blog comments and emails, but don’t feel like you have to respond to each one. I turned off my comments during Lent (except for one post on postpartum depression where I wanted readers to support one another). While I missed the chatter, the encouragement, and the sense of community the combox can build, I didn’t miss the guilt that sometimes comes along with the fact that I can’t respond to every person who comments on my blog or emails me. I want to live the life I preach. My blog slogan is “will work for children.” I’d better be spending more of my time working for them than responding to emails and comments.

When we only used the phone or written letters to correspond to people, there was no way we could keep in touch with the big circle of friends we can do now, thanks to the Internet. I love meeting new people, but I can’t invest so much time cultivating new e-relationships that I let my relationship with the people (and God!) whom I love the most suffer.

Pick up the phone.


I’m not a big phone person. I never have been, not even as a social teenager. I can always carry on lengthy chats with my mom, but I tend to get nervous on the phone and ramble. Therefore, I much prefer email. I like being able to think about my words before putting them out there (yes, I've been known to suffer from foot-in-mouth-disease on more than one occasion).

Sometimes it seems my kids prefer email, too. When I’m talking on the phone, they see and hear that they’re not being included in a conversation. However, when I “talk” with the keyboard, they’re often more tolerant. Maybe they don't feel as left out. Whatever the case, I relied on the phone a bit more during Lent and even though things got a little crazy and kids started losing it, I have to say it was so nice to hear some of my good friends’ voices. It was wonderful to hear their laughs instead of just seeing LOL on my computer screen. The phone allows for a true conversation. It’s interactive, and there’s no character limit like on Twitter! (Great for a woman of clearly too many words like me!). So I’m going to make more of an effort to call friends occasionally rather than only relying on the keyboard to do my talking. And good friends completely understand if you have to cut them off to avert a kid disaster.

Pay close attention to your kids’ cues.

Sometimes I’ll decide I have the time to squeeze in some writing on the computer or some blog reading when my girls are engaged in play. I’ll pull out my laptop and start writing or reading. Then one of my kids will stop what she's doing hover close by. Sometimes she’ll even poke at my computer. It’s infuriating and so easy to get frustrated and to think, “Wait a minute. You were just playing. This is my time. Let me at least finish this thought.”

However, in my experience, this line of thinking or pushing aside of a little stalker usually leads to a more clingy child and/or a frustrated mom. So instead I click “save” or I star an email or article or blog post I’d like to read later, and I give my children my full attention. They deserve it. This rule applies to phone conversations as well.

Realize you will miss things.

This isn’t so much something I can do but something I just have to learn to accept. There are tons of news articles that would make me a more informed citizen. There are so many blogs I’d like to read every single day because I know they would encourage me and offer me wisdom that I need to grow as a wife, mother, and Christian. There are great craft sites and recipes I'd love to explore. There’s breathtaking photography, helpful homeschooling forums, and support for attachment parenting. There’s so much I’d like to consume. But I can’t. I have to accept that I'm going to miss great words, helpful advice, beautiful images, and important headlines. The sooner I accept this the sooner I can get on with the important stuff - like being an attentive mom, a prayerful woman, and a loving spouse.

I have to also realize that other moms are in the same boat. Just because someone doesn’t visit my blog or include it on their blogroll doesn’t mean my words have never spoken to them. It just means they have to work with a finite number of hours in their day. Similarly, when I don’t visit a blog or a site or comment on it, it doesn’t mean it’s because I don’t enjoy the words I read over there. It may mean a sick child needs my arms to hold her. It may mean there are veggies to be chopped for a dinner salad. It may mean I haven’t had a single moment for myself and when I do, I need to use it to pray so I can have the strength and patience to keep at this 24/7 mothering gig.

When I shoot off an email to a blogging mom I admire or appreciate, I always love hearing back from her. However, I don’t take it personally if I never receive a personal response. Please don’t take it personally if I don’t respond to you either. Know that I LOVE hearing from you, but my family needs me active in their lives probably more than you do. :-)

Simplify/streamline your technology outlets.

Every day it seems like another great social networking site or online community pops up. I’m tempted to join them all, but, again, I can’t. So I’ve picked a few and I’m sticking to them without a twinge of guilt or regret.

I’ve also started becoming a copycat over at my Google Reader. As I've mentioned, I cannot possibly keep up with all the quality blogs out there, so I often rely on a select few friends and their shared items to keep me in the loop. Sometimes I feel like a copycat sharing their items, but it really helps cut down on the time I spend sifting through piles of posts. I do still try to share a few diverse items, but I’m very grateful for all my friends’ pared down selections.

Schedule regular breaks from the Internet and email.

This is very, very important. It’s so easy to get wrapped up in the online world that you forget what you’re missing in real life. Even if you just make Sunday or one other day of the week an unplugged day, you’ll gain so much perspective. It really is freeing to carve out time where you don’t have to be online. Personally, it helps me if I put out an automated response on my email when I'm unplugged. Although I don't really like to leave people with an impersonal message, I know that if someone who is close to me really needs to get some information to me, they'll know to call.

Turn off the computer an hour before your scheduled bedtime.

I occasionally have to break this rule because of a freelance deadline or something else, but I’m really trying to stick to it. My husband’s evenings are often filled with studying or work-related stuff, so I had gotten in to the habit of whittling away the nighttime hours online. This not only kept me up too late, but it also affected my quality of sleep. This is unfair to myself and to my children. I'm frequently up with my little nursling, so I have to sleep soundly when I can. Now I aim to spend at least an hour reading or practicing gentle stretches or praying or journaling (the old-fashioned way with a pen and notebook) rather than staring at the glaring screen of a computer.

I had a few other tips, but my baby is up from her nap (older girls are with their Pop*; thank you, Pop for all of your help!), so I'm taking my own advice and letting this go unfinished. These are the important ones anyway. I would love to hear how you - whether you're a blogger or just someone who emails, etc. - strike a balance with technology.


*This post has been in the works for a long time, but I'm just getting around to posting it, which is a good thing since it means I've been sticking to some of my new rules. :-)


Join the Kind Conversation



Elizabeth Foss has created a space to encourage and to be encouraged.

Won't you join the conversation?

About Kind Conversation (from Elizabeth Foss):

The journey to this post was a long one, a prayerful one, and a surprisingly fruitful one. I have heard you and I have listened. I truly, truly hope I've listened well. Even more, I have heard Him and I have listened. And gosh, I do hope I got that message right:-)!

We've created something for you.

If you want a quiet place to share a vision of rhythm and beauty, holiness and joy,

If you want to talk about the ideas you read here and on Serendipity and in my books,

If you are a woman in search of companions on a journey to God,
come walk with us.

Come if you want to encourage and to be encouraged. Come if you love the Lord and want to dedicate your life to living His vision for you.come if you want to bring His Presence alive in your home.

Come if you have a heart for kind conversation.

Come!

I look forward to seeing you there!

{Registrations will be approved as quickly as possible. Kind Conversation is a private community only visible to registered, approved members.}
Be sure to also read these heartfelt guidelines for Kind Conversation. Even if you don't end up joining the network, Elizabeth's wisdom is good food for thought. Our words are powerful. They can bless, encourage, and teach. But they also can hurt, disparage, and wound - even when our intentions are to do just the opposite. I personally have to be careful with the words I wield. I'm eager to use gentle, hopeful words over at Kind Conversation.

While you're there, consider joining a group I created called Made In God's Image that I hope will help us all to embrace our femininity, motherhood (stretch marks and all) as well as the real beauty traits of a worthy, kind, and spirited Christian woman. Let us help one another pursue emotional, spiritual, and physical health by cherishing and taking care of our bodies rather than chastising them.

You are so much more than the size of your hips.


During the 2008 celebration of the Solemnity of the Immaculate Conception of Mary, Pope Benedict XVI reminded women all over the world that the feast was a chance to "contemplate the reflection of the Beauty who saves the world: the beauty of God that shines on the face of Christ." Mary reflects this Beauty, and we should never stop contemplating how we can become more like her in all that we do and say.

This is what I hope we can all encourage one another to do with this group and with our lives - to embrace what God, not society, finds beautiful and worthy.

I look forward to hearing everyone's feedback, comments, inspiration, etc. The topics for this group are endless.

Here are just a few ideas that come to mind:

  • Making peace with our bodies
  • Raising children with healthy body images
  • Feeding our bodies with healthy food and feeding our souls with the Bread of Life
  • Pursuing real beauty (the kind of beauty Our Blessed Mother, saints, and other people of goodness and kindness possess)
  • Incorporating fitness and healthy eating into our lives as a means of taking care of our bodies - true temples of the Holy Spirit - not just to look a certain way or to squeeze in to our skinny jeans
  • Embracing motherhood and the sacrificial and physical signs being a mother leaves on our bodies
  • Remembering the adage "age before beauty"
  • Overcoming the barrage of unhealthy media messages that tell us we're better if we look a certain (unrealistic!) way
  • Sharing chic yet modest and feminine fashion ideas
This is just a start. Thank you for your interest in the Made In God's Image Group, and thank you for joining in on this conversation. I owe many thanks to an e-friend of mine named Cathy Adamkiewicz for encouraging me to put myself out there and starting to talk about this important topic. And, of course, many thanks to Elizabeth Foss for inviting us to engage in kind, uplifting conversations.

God bless you all, and remember you are made in the image of God and that alone makes you beautiful!

Join the kind conversation today, and be sure to spread the word to your friends, family members, and fellow sisters in Christ.

UPDATE: Oh, goody. For those of your who are interested, someone has started an attachment parenting group as well. Blessings!


Step Away from the Glowing Rectangle

From Faith & Family's Daily Lenten Meditation for Thursday, March 25th:

"After you complete any essential morning tasks at the computer for the first time today, turn it off. Do not return to the computer today unless/until it is essential for the running of your household or care of your children."

As much as I'm glad you're here, reading this blog is not essential. Click away. Turn off the computer. Clean out your closets instead of your inbox. Read the Word instead of others' words. Be fully present in your children's lives. Look into their eyes instead of at the computer screen. Don't schedule or plan. Just live.



The Best Way? Some More Thoughts on Postpartum Depression



I've opened comments back up on this one (I explain why below.)

In response to my Faith & Family LIVE feature on postpartum depression, Suzanne Temple of Blessed Among Men (a favorite blogger of mine even though she's got a house full of men and we're overrun with sugar and spice), wrote an excellent follow-up blog post sharing information on the use of progesterone therapy as a NaProTechnology Solution. I agree 100 percent that more women need to know about this effective and natural form of therapy and recommend anyone who has struggled with PPD to read her post to learn more. I should have mentioned progesterone in my feature, especially since this was my first line of attack against depression (more on that in a bit). (There was actually a lot I wanted to write about, but I'd already surpassed my word count. Brevity is not my strong suit.) :-)


Although I neglected to cover hormone therapy as a treatment, I do feel that we do have to be careful about when we bring up this sensitive topic. There's already so much stigma attached to mental health conditions. In fact, I have to confess that I use to buy into that stigma until a few months ago, thinking that people who suffered from any form of depression should be able to just shake it off and that taking antidepressants was a copout. (Funny, you'd think I'd be less judgmental having had dealt with an eating disorder and having gotten upset when people would tell me to just eat and be happy.) Now I know better, and the last thing anyone suffering from the pain of depression needs is to feel guilty because she didn't respond to a "better" form of treatment. (I talk more about my personal experience with PPD as well as other things that helped me heal in the March 18th Faith & Family podcast.

Please understand that I'm not suggesting Suzanne's post was anything but charitable and informative, but I had a different experience with PPD and found that the natural therapies weren't enough to curb some persistent insomnia and an angry edge I've never had before.

I did try progesterone treatment after my midwife (who is also Catholic) took my hormone levels and discovered they were all out of whack. This shouldn't have come as a big surprise. My midwife reminded me that I had either been pregnant, nursing, or pregnant and nursing for more than five years. It's no wonder I was having trouble tolerating the overwhelming hormonal cocktail coursing through my body.  

When she mentioned starting with progesterone treatment, I was happy there was a natural way to go about tackling my PPD symptoms (which included insomnia, frequent crying jags, sadness, anger, loss of appetite, etc.). I'm someone who doesn't even like to take Tylenol for a headache.  I honestly didn't want to seek any treatment at all for what I was experiencing. I wanted to fix it myself. I kept telling myself it was just a phase and I could will myself into getting better (I'm a stubborn one; just ask my husband or my equally stubborn oldest daughter!). But I couldn't make the symptoms go away even after combing resources for natural remedies for depression like eating less refined food, nixing caffeine, exercising regularly, etc. 
And apparently, the progesterone couldn't "fix" my depression either because my symptoms weren't improving. I'd already been dealing with feelings of worthlessness. When I discovered I wasn't getting better with the natural, Catholic way of treatment, I felt like an even bigger failure.

Thankfully, my spiritual director, husband, mom, NFP instructor, and midwife all encouraged me to take an antidepressant that was safe to take while nursing. I fought it, but I finally caved in for the sake of my family. At first, it was my big secret. I didn't want to tell anyone I had to go on antidepressants. It felt so wrong. I mean if I could give birth naturally three times, then why couldn't I naturally get rid of a sad mood? It made me feel weak that I had to take medicine for an emotional wound. 

But as Lisa Hendey pointed out in the podcast, someone with diabetes wouldn't be embarrassed about disclosing her condition - or having to take insulin. So I'm starting to talk about it - if not for myself, then to reach out to others. Right now I am slowly weaning off the medication and should be completely off it by May. The medicine really did help me to start to feel like myself again, and I didn't experience any negative side effects other than feeling queasy for the first few days I started taking the medication. (Of course, I combined it with other helpful therapies, which I'll discuss shortly.) But I do know plenty of people who were able to triumph over their depression in other ways.

Charlotte of Waltzing Matilda brought up another good point in her comment after the original article. She wrote,"While PPD usually starts in response to chemical reactions in the brain after pregnancy and delivery, it can continue for other reasons that might lay hidden in the recesses of your heart. Once your brain is in depression mode it’s hard to shake it free. That’s where the spiritual direction or therapy with a Catholic or Christian therapist can be the key to complete healing."

Spiritual direction has been invaluable to me in helping to identify some trigger points for burnout and past depressive episodes. I had not previously suffered from anything remotely close to clinical depression, but like most women, I've dealt with short bouts of sadness and mood swings related to hormonal shifts, so it's good to keep a running list of potential aggravators (e.g., not getting enough sleep, old thought patterns related to my eating disorder, not tending to my spiritual life, not eating properly, etc.) that might lead me down a dark path if I'm not careful to confront them.

My spiritual director has also helped me single out my root sin (which happens to be vanity - thus, the feeling like a failure for having to seek treatment at all). In addition, some  old inner demons resurrected during my dark months (depression, anxiety, and eating disorders are often connected), and I had to confront them in my prayer life and in spiritual direction. Confession helped me tremendously, too. There's nothing quite like casting your cares on God's shoulders. Talk about taking a load off!

Eating healthy, and reading Fertility, Cycles, and Nutrition by Marilyn Shannon (per Anne McClure's recommendation) was beneficial to me. Shannon's book explores the link between cycle irregularities and nutrition and encourages a diet rich in whole, "real," and unrefined food. She also explores how to treat PMS symptoms with supplements and eating the right kinds of food. There's a section on depression and anxiety that was also helpful. 
I also have to make an effort to stay hydrated, especially as a nursing mom. Dehydration has been linked to feelings of depression, so drink up.

Surviving Depression: A Catholic Approach by Sister Kathryn J. Hermes is on my wish list. I'm reading Sister's Minute Meditations for Lent right now, and I love her sincere reflections.

In addition, exercise does wonders to lift my mood, especially when I'm able to take a stroll outdoors. We had a rainy winter here in Georgia, but every time I was able to go outside, the warmth of sun was like an expresso shot of happiness for me. (You poor, poor Northerners; I don't envy you one bit.)

Lest this candid, long-winded post has you thinking differently, it hasn't been easy for me to share my recent struggles with postpartum depression. (Remember I struggle with vanity!) :-) Sometimes when I look at my beautiful baby, I still feel a stab of guilt. How could I ever be sad after giving birth to this chubby, cuddly baby who giggles far more than she cries, vibrates with happiness, and calls, "Mama!" as soon as she sees me enter a room?

I wanted to be a mom for a long time. My ovaries starting twitching the moment I was married (before actually). When I didn't become pregnant right away, I questioned God's timing. Then I started to question His faith in me. Do you not think I'm up to the task?

When I became pregnant while nursing my second - something I didn't think was possible given I had to wean my first at 22 months to conceive - I started to think God might have too much faith in me. I'm not up to this. I'm too tired. 

When I was diagnosed with postpartum depression, I felt lost. The sadness was oppressive. There was no joy. I was so tired I couldn't sleep. It all felt like a pile of proof that I wasn't up to the task of raising children.

Before when I felt overwhelmed as a mom, good friends  or my husband would encourage me to refill my tank. I'd reenergize myself maybe by writing, going on a walk,  getting more sleep, reading a good book, having a date night with my husband, going to Mass, or just having fun with my kids, and - poof! - I was back to my happy self. 

But this time it was different. This was more than a bad case of burnout. When a nurse told me to do something fun, I knew something was wrong when I couldn't even remember what once gave me joy.  I wanted to bury myself in my bed and sleep for a long time, but sleep would not come no matter how many cups of Sleepy Time tea I sipped.

At first I prayed. Hard. But then prayer began to feel like too much of an effort. God no longer seemed like a benevolent force in my life. Praying to Him seemed like just another thing I didn't have the energy to do.

I wept a lot at home. Alone. My desire to please others and come off as the happy mom I once was kept me from being too obvious to people other than those who are closest to me (I owe much to my husband and mom who gently prodded me to seek help). Then I finally began to reach out to other women I knew - and that's when others began to whisper in low voices that they, too, had suffered from anxiety or depression - sometimes postpartum, sometimes not - at some point in their lives. 

Eventually I began to reach out to Him. And the Great Physician was there, waiting to start healing me. 

I can't help but wonder why it's so easy to lose God even though He's right there. I don't understand why, but it can feel like you have to walk down a long road to find Him again. I had to grope my way through a lot of darkness. I  had to yield to the anger burning in my heart.

I'm doing much better, feeling like myself again. Thanks be to God! I am still tired. But I'm inspired, too. My kids keep me going. God keeps me going.  So does the realization that the darkness eventually always gives way to the light.  It won't rain forever and when it stops, boy, does the sun feel good. 

And now I've felt called to share my story so others who are trudging along this dark path will know they're not alone and that it won't last forever.

If you're suffering, here's my advice - take it or leave it. Only you, with the help of loved ones and your faith, can find your way back to your true self. Yes,  definitely, definitely try the natural form of therapies first. Stretch your limbs. Go on walks. Let the springtime sun warm you. Accept help from others.  Sleep (ha! Still haven't quite figured out how to accomplish this one!). Read inspiring books. (I can't wait to get my hands on this one.) Fill your body with healthful food, and fill your soul with the Bread of Life. Seek out counseling to heal past wounds if there's something deeper going on keeping you from living a life of joy. Try progesterone. Do not suffer alone. You are in a passion. You need God. You need help from Veronicas and Simons. You may need hormone therapy. But you may need medicine, too. And if you do end up needing something more to be more of yourself again, don't feel like you're weak, a failure, or a hopeless cause. 

I don't view antidepressants as miracle drugs that are always necessary or an easy way to slap a Bandaid on all of your hurts. I believe we're too quick to medicate here in America. But just as I believe natural childbirth is a beautiful, safe way to bring a baby into the world and long for it to be an option more women are aware of and not fearful of, I know it's not the only way to bring forth new life. A healthy baby in your arms is the end goal.  I realize this is an imperfect analogy,  but it's the same way when you're working to cure a sickness - including a mental sickness. When facing depression, healing is what you should seek.   Hopefully, that healing will come in the form of something more natural. But perhaps the best way to treat postpartum depression or any form of depression is the way that works - the way that restores you to your healthy, whole self and allows you to be the person you were created to be.
Blessings!

*I'm breaking my "closed comments" policy for Lent in hopes that readers might be able to minister to others and help them find the healing they seek. If you have experience with PPD or depression (or know someone who has) and have another successful treatment option or any other helpful resources, words of wisdom, etc. to share, please do so below.  I will not be responding to comments at this time, but please know I will read every single one, and I will keep you in my prayers.