How do you do what you do?

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I found myself with time to write, but a case of writer's block this evening. So, I went back through a file of questions I had saved. I haven't contributed to the question file for, oh, about two years. Don't know why I stopped filing questions there. It was a good idea, really. I think I'll return to that practice. And maybe this time, I'll be better about answering them promptly. Anyhooo, here's one from a few years ago:

For several years now I have been an ardent reader of your blog, message board posts, and various other articles, and I am just in awe of what you're able to accomplish in a given day. After reading your post this morning I called a good friend & said to her, "Okay, I have to know ... how does Elizabeth "do" all of this???  How does she stay motivated to declutter, take care of family, educate children, and do her writing?" 
 
I have a difficult time keeping my laundry caught up and often feel guilty that my baby is entertained by television while I try to get "caught up" around here.  So where do you begin?  Do you have a very rigid schedule that you adhere to, are your older children capable of and willing to give you a great deal of assistance with the younger ones? 
 
As a Catholic mom aspiring to be the wife, mother, friend, and educator God would have me be, I would be extremely grateful for any tips you could provide me on 'where to begin'.
Dear Elizabeth in SC,
Let's begin with the disclaimer: I do not feel qualified at all to tell you where to begin, which is probably why this post has lingered in my "question box" since March 2008. I really dislike didactic blog posts where the author sounds like she's got it all figured out and I often wonder just how old Paul meant for those Titus 2 women to be. I really don't know when I'll ever feel like I'm in a good place to advise. I do, however, like very much to share what works for me. And I live each and every day with the sure sense that there is never a bad time to shout the wonders of God. Whatever works, works because of His gracious goodness. Whatever fails, fails because I haven't listened well enough or been faithful enough to His commands. So, I'll share with you what works when it works and assure you that there are most definitely days--even seasons--of failure.
That brings me to the first part of your question: how does she stay motivated to declutter, take care of her family, educate children, and do her writing?

That's easy. I am motivated by the sheer joy of being alive and the awareness of what a fragile gift we are given with every breath. I know what it's like to wonder if I will live to raise my children. I have spent hours begging God for the chance to do His will with them. I had not one, but two extended periods of stillness in my life when all I wanted was to be well enough to be a good mom. And both times, when that gift of life was granted again, I resolved to live it to its fullest. I am eternally grateful just to be present in the lives of my family.

Today, I am often reminded of those hard days of stillness and fear. The reminders come in my inbox in the form of emails written by a dear friend. Many, many times those brief missives take the very last of her energy for the day. Sometimes, I read them at night and wake up in the morning with the resolve to do with the day not only what I had planned to do, but what she would do if only she felt well enough.
I don't know if this is at all helpful to you. I'm not sure you can take my experience and benefit from it. I think my experiences color every aspect of my life and because of them I bring different expectations to relationships and to duties. I am often surprised when I am misunderstood and I am increasingly aware that to live this way is almost like living with a sixth sense about life.

Now, let's look at the nitty gritty. I begin at the beginning. Generally, I have a grounded sense of why I'm here. I live to love my God and my family.  I'm not easily distracted by what's going on "out there." The one exception in my life was the wasted time I grew to regret last spring. That aside, I'm focused. With my husband, I prioritize and then I endeavor to live those priorities. I'll warn you, it isn't always a popular thing to do. And it's probably best to explain it over and over again (I don't do nearly enough of that--I assume people know). There are plenty of people out there who will tell you that I can go days (weeks?) without answering emails, returning phone calls, or nurturing friendships. I mean no harm and no disrespect. Quite the contrary, I simply mean to live simply inside the narrow parameters of my family life. I am very grateful for the friends who know and understand how I manage my time and love me anyway.

I start my days with exercise, the Divine Office and Morning Prayer. For me, those are critical to a day well lived. I put my husband before everything else. I carry him with me through the day and I don't hesitate to order my time and energy to meet his needs (and wants) as much, as well, and as often as I can. Marriage is a gift--to me, to him, and to our kids. I protect it with my very life. That means I don't always do some things one might expect me to do. Also, I prioritize according to his direction. I don't waste a whole lot of time thinking about it. I just do it.

For me, a good day begins in a tidy house. I have difficulty functioning in a house that's cluttered and disorganized. At different stages of my life, acquiring and maintaining order has meant different things. When we had three little children and only one car, my husband took a detailed list, three boys and his father, and went grocery shopping and to visit Grandma one evening every week. I power cleaned in the time he was gone. When I had seven children, was recovering from surgery and struggling with depression, we hired help to come in once a week. When I had three competent teenagers at home and someone to share driving duties and no one was nursing...oh, wait, I've never had that;-). You get the idea. Sit down with your husband; share your needs and your wants where your environment is concerned and figure out a way to get to order and to maintain order.

I do have a detailed, almost-to-the-minute schedule. I make a new one every season. And then I never look at it again. I just make them to see how it can all fit. If it can't all fit, something has to give. But once the schedule is made, I walk away from it. I have a general sense of what's to be accomplished in every block of time during the day and I hold myself to it, but I'm not a slave to tiny increments of time. One thing that is nearly non-negotiable in my household is naptime. If we have a napping baby, she gets to have her nap. That means I am really careful not to schedule outside commitments during naptime unless I have someone old enough at home to stay and make sure the baby sleeps.Usually, this means that we have a happy baby. We keep our eating times regular and our going to sleep times regular and then there is an expectation that everything else will fall in place. I paddle like crazy under water to be sure things swim smoothly on top.

I am usually  shy, but I am no longer afraid to say "no" in order to preserve order and maintain sanity. I am quite content with my community of eleven at home and in my heart. My focus is on them. I try hard not to assign too much baby and toddler care to my older children. An attachment parent to the very core of my being, I nurse my babies a long, long time (unless forced to wean around 2 years old by cancer or premature labor). Nursing means that my babies come back to me at regular intervals throughout the day for my undivided attention. It prevents me from delegating them too much, something that can easily happen in a household that has older children who love babies. I hold and hold and hold my babies until they squirm to get down. That said, my oldest daughter does do a lot of baby and child care. Much of it, she chooses to do herself. My kids practically came to blows this morning over who was to have the privilege of dressing the baby. In the end, Mary Beth won. Twenty minutes later, Sarah Annie appeared with a new outfit on, her hair in pigtails, and painted finger nails. Very sweet. For both of them.

In terms of education or household management, I make a lot of lists, think it all out. I'm very intentional. Sometimes, I get to attached to those lists and I start to bulldoze. But I do a lot less of that now than I did ten years ago. My motivation behind the lists is different now. I used to be motivated by keeping up appearances; I wanted everyone looking in to think I was capable and competent. Now, I'm motivated by peace of soul. I want to meet God at the end of the day and honestly tell Him I've been a graceful, good steward of the time He gave me. If my house isn't as tidy as I want it to be, it's probably not because I failed to do the important things; it's probably because I did do whatever was more important. And believe me, I think a clean house is important! It is not, however, a reliable measure of my worth.

I do have days when I feel all semblance of control slipping. And usually, those are messy house days or kids who won't do lessons days. Or both. Those are times I used to escape into the computer, because things stay tidy there. What I really need at those times is a little peace of heart--I need "quiet in a crowd."  You can get a fair bit of "alone time" to just think or pray when you hold in your hand a running vacuum. Now, when I'm tempted to go all "drill seargeant" on my kids because I want everything perfect right now, I vacuum and pray instead. If I get all the dog hair up and I'm still wanting to bulldoze, I do. The kids are probably in need of a good, honest nudge.

I'm a hands-on mom. I love to hold my children or to sit next to them and read aloud. Talking to them about big ideas or little mysteries is a happy thing. I'm fond of books and truly enjoy sharing them with the loves of my life. We are all blessed because I genuinely love education. When I face homeschooling, it's not with a sense of dread or duty. I truly delight in it (most days). That's such a blessing and I know it! I'm very grateful for the gift of that joy. I look at almost every encounter with the people I love as an opportunity to live a blessing. Once upon a time, I begged God to let me just read a story and then lie in the dark with a squirmy three-year-old while she drifted to sleep. He granted me the joy and I seize it as often as I can.

Oh dear! Is this any help at all? I do what I do the way I do it because it's the way God made me and how He continues to shape me through the people in my family and the experiences He's allowed me. At the end of the day--quite literally--it all comes down to getting on my knees and asking Him what He would have me do. And then, I compare notes with my husband and together we do whatever He tells us. I'm just happy He's given me such nice things to do.

What is it with me and carseats?

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I was hanging the lining of Sarah's carseat to dry after the barfing episode and Katie wandered into the laundry room.

"So, I guess now that it's all clean and beautiful, you'll put it away until we have another baby? Sarah hates that carseat."

And the tears spring way too easily. I lean into the dryer even though there is nothing in there. I don't want her to see.

"No, we'll put it away until we find someone who needs it. My guess is that Mommy's too old to have another baby."

"That's ridiculous. We should adopt."

She skips away to discuss Haitian adoptions with Nicky, who would really rather adopt a boy his age than a baby.

I finish hanging the rest of the items from that offensive load; the Ergo is last to find a hanger. It smells so sweet now. We have at least one more season with my little one nestled against me in this carrier. I remember one of my favorite hugs ever, right around this time last year, when Sarah was asleep in the Ergo just after Paddy won the State Cup. She was sandwiched between us. Life was perfect that day: funny, interesting teenagers; utterly engaging middle kids; twirling, dancing toddlers; and a baby asleep on my chest. My dear husband utterly delirious to be in their company. One more season of the Ergo. I know that it is unlikely that I will give it away. It will end up in my hope chest with Michael's Peter Pan costume and Stephen's and Nicky's matching gecko shirts and Katie's crocheted bunny hat. All little pieces of fabric in the quilt of our lives.

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Sarah's nearly 17 months old. She gets sick riding backwards. It's time to move on to a bigger carseat. What the heck? It's a carseat. Why do I care so much?

Because I know.

I've been here before. If I blink--if I dare to blink--the tears that fill my eyes will surely run down my face.

Remember this, from five years ago?

Don't Blink

For the first time in a very long time, I am neither pregnant nor mothering a baby. My "baby" is now two years old. And with a certainty that takes my breath away, I suddenly understand why wise women always told me that the time would go so quickly. To be sure, I’ve had more "baby time" than most women. My first baby will be 16 in a few days. I still think it’s over much too soon.

This column is for mothers of infants and toddlers. I am going to attempt to do something I never thought I’d do: I’m going to empathize while not in your situation. My hope is that it is all so fresh in my memory that I can have both perspective and relevance.

What you are doing, what you are living, is very difficult. It is physically exhausting. It is emotionally and spiritually challenging. An infant is dependent on you for everything. It doesn’t get much more daunting: there is another human being who needs you for his very life. Your life is not your own at all. You must answer the call (the cry) of that baby, regardless of what you have planned. This is dying to self in a very pure sense of the phrase. And you want to be with him. You ache for him. When he is not with you, a certain sense of restlessness edges its way into your consciousness, and you are not at complete peace.

If you are so blessed that you have a toddler at the same time, you wrestle with your emotions. Your former baby seems so big and, as you settle to nurse your baby and enjoy some quiet gazing time, you try desperately to push away the feeling that the great, lumbering toddler barreling her way toward you is an intruder. Your gaze shifts to her eyes, and there you see the baby she was and still is, and you know that you are being stretched in ways you never could have imagined.

This all might be challenge enough if you could just hunker down in your own home and take care of your children for the next three years; but society requires that you go out — at least into the marketplace. So you juggle nap schedules and feeding schedules and snowsuits and carseats. Just an aside about carseats: I have literally had nightmares about installing carseats. These were not dreams that I had done it wrong or that there had been some tragedy. In my dreams I am simply exhausted, struggling with getting the thing latched into the seat of the car and then getting my baby latched into the carseat. I’m fairly certain anyone else who has ever had four of these mechanical challenges lined up in her van has had similar dreams. It’s the details that overwhelm you, drain you, distract you from the nobility of it all. The devil is in the details.

You will survive. And here is the promise: if you pray your way through this time, if you implore the Lord at every turn, if you ask Him to take this day and this time and help you to give Him something beautiful, you will grow in ways unimagined. And the day will come when no one is under two years old. You will — with no one on your lap — look at your children playing contentedly together without you. And you will sigh. Maybe, like me, you will feel your arms are uncomfortably empty, and you will pray that you can hold a baby just once more. Or maybe, you will sense that you are ready to pass with your children to the next stage.

This is the place where nearly two decades of mothering babies grants me the indulgence of sharing what I would have done differently. I would have had far fewer obligations outside my home. Now, I see that there is plenty of time for those, and that it is much simpler to pursue outside interests without a baby at my breast. I wish I’d spent a little more time just sitting with that baby instead of trying to "do it all."

I wish I’d quieted the voices telling me that my house had to look a certain way. I look around now and I recognize that those houses that have "that look" don’t have these children. Rarely are there a perfectly-kept house and a baby and a toddler under one roof. Don’t listen to the voices that tell you that it can be done. It should not be done. I wish I hadn’t spent 16 years apologizing for the mess. Just shoot for "good enough." Cling to lower standards and higher goals.

I wish I’d taken more pictures, shot more video and kept better journals. I console myself with the knowledge that my children have these columns to read. They’ll know at least as much about their childhoods as you do.

I wish I could have recognized that I would not be so tired forever, that I would not be standing in the shallow end of the pool every summer for the rest of my life, that I would not always have a baby in my bed (or my bath or my lap). If I could have seen how short this season is (even if mine was relatively long), I would have savored it all the more.

And I wish I had thanked Him more. I prayed so hard. I asked for help. But I didn’t thank Him nearly enough. I didn’t thank Him often enough for the sweet smell of a newborn, for the dimples around pudgy elbows and wrists, for the softening of my heart, for the stretching of my patience, for the paradoxical simplicity of it all. A baby is a pure, innocent, beautiful embodiment of love. And his mother has the distinct privilege, the unparalleled joy, of watching love grow. Don’t blink. You’ll miss it.

Disconnect to reconnect?

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Yesterday was golden, really. Sarah woke happy and "chatted" with me merrily before we got out of bed. My morning computer check-in time slipped away as I marveled at my baby and told time to stand still.

As more children tumbled out from under covers and down the stairs, it dawned on me that I'd made no grocery trip for Mardi Gras. I was sick at the end of last week and all weekend and the whole thing passed in an inefficient blur. We had a plan because we pretty much always do the same thing, but I had no ingredients.

Mike texted from the airport. His flight was delayed. The morning reunion was moved to noon. At least I would have my act together by then.

I put together a grocery list and pulled on my boots. Karoline wanted to go along. Sigh. Karoline's company would make this trip a good deal lengthier. She was persistent. Her coat. Her boots. Her doll. Her bear. In the car. Off we go.

Karoline tenderly put her doll in the little cart our grocery store provides for wee mommies. She asked me to please strap the bear into my cart. I did. We found the ingredients for king cake, and jambalaya, lots of sparkle sugar in green and yellow and purple. Half a dozen people smiled at us as we went about our business. Sweet girl, spreading sunshine all over the place. Time moved slowly.

We chose hot fudge and whipped cream and then, she remembered. "I really, really need a hot chocolate." I put the ice cream in my cart while I pondered possibilities. Hurry through the checkout, get home, start barking orders and get this day into full production mode? Stop for hot chocolate?

We stopped at the in-store Starbucks. She chose a hot pink balloon and then settled into her chair and chattered happily about next year when she's fifteen and her feet touch the floor. I took a picture of her with my cell phone and sent it to Mike at Newark. He agreed that she should have hot chocolate when she goes on a Mommy date to the store. On the way home, the radio reminded me that all too soon, she will indeed be fifteen and her feet will touch the floor.

The computer was open when I walked inside. Mary Beth had found the king cake recipe and she was ready to bake. Because Mike would have just enough time for lunch before leaving to direct a game locally, we decided to have our Mardi Gras feast a little before noon.

He came home to happy noises about a sparkly cake and all were fed. Three of the boys left to go to work with him. My neighbor took Mary Beth, Stephen, and Katie to sled on a big hill with her kids a few miles from home. I put Sarah down to sleep and planned to finish writing a talk and catch up on some computer work. But as the big kids pulled away, Karoline melted into a puddle of despair.

We spent the next two hours reading every Jan Brett book we own. 

We made gingerbread tea with lots of sugar and heavy cream. Time moved slowly.

Then, we tried out the new floor in the sunroom by twirling pirouettes until we fell into a dizzy, giggling snuggle.

That woke the baby. So, we played "friend moms" with our babies until the floor guys came to finish their job. Karoline helped them with the tape measure.

Mary Chris returned with the other kids and had time for a quick cup of tea before I had to take Mary Beth to ballet. She took everyone but the baby and Mary Beth back to her house so they could have a "curling" competition in the basement. Mary Beth and I hustled out the door. We had time for an errand and dinner on the run. And she needed to have a big talk. We had time for that, too. All good things.

When I got home, there were messages on the phone and messages on the computer. But I didn't get to them. We had dinner and baths and more books and then I got sidetracked by a book that had arrived in the mail earlier in the day. Almost an entire day without much more than a glance or two at the computer...

Around ten o'clock, I started catching up online. And I worried about the yet unfinished talk. And I saw the drastic changes to the basketball schedule. Grace leaked all over the place. I barely slept.

What if. What if instead of reading 300 words here and there all over the internet all day long, I just read one book at a time? One hundred fifty pages or more of complete thoughts and careful writing. Would I stop thinking in those short, snippy, often snarky phrases that mirrored what I'd read online?

What if instead of posting status updates about what's for dinner and how's the weather, I saved up my writing time so that I could write something of substance a couple of times a week? I really think there's room on the internet for longer, beautifully published pieces. I have seen some incredible ones lately--whole pieces that give chronicling life online the beauty and dignity it deserves.

What if I checked the computer after prayer and before the kids got up and then didn't touch it again until time to make sure all afternoon activities were on as scheduled? And then not again? Certainly not right before bed.

Would time move more slowly? Would I have time for more storybooks and pirouettes? More big talks (and bigger listens)? Would I feel more connected to important people and less distracted by near strangers? 

I hear there are rules in the world of social networking. What if I re-wrote those rules for me and my house?

I think we'd reconnect in the important places.

Life with New Babies

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I'm reminding myself: You don't "get your groove back." You find a new groove. And the finding is a journey. And the journey is every bit as important as arriving at the destination. Babies don't keep. Find grace in the moment, because the moment is all too fleeting. Peaceful mothers rest in the knowledge that His grace and strength are sufficient to do His will. His will is that we are gentle, quiet mothers and holy wives.

Pray! Pray!

Quick Prayer to St. Anne

Good St. Anne, you were especially favored by God to be the mother of the most holy Virgin Mary, the Mother of our Savior. By your power with your most pure daughter and with her divine Son, kindly obtain for us the grace and the favor we now seek. Please secure for us also forgiveness of our past sins, the strength to perform faithfully our daily duties and the help we need to persevere in the love of Jesus and Mary. Amen.