To improve ourselves...

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In Covenanted Happiness, Msgr.  Cormac Burke writes,

Spouses need to improve in life--to rise above their present worth--if they are to retain their partner's love. It is good therefore--it is essential--that each spouse sacrifices himself or herself for the other.But it is doubtful if any husband and wife, on their own, can inspire each other indefinitely to generosity and self-sacrifice.  Children can and do draw from parents a degree of sacrifice to which neither parent alone could probably inspire the other. It is for the sake of their children that parents most easily rise above themselves. Parental love is the most naturally disinterested kind of love. In this way, as they sacrifice themselves for their children, each parent actually improves and becomes--in his or her partner's eyes also--a truly more loveable person.

     What does that mean, exactly?  What does it mean, practically?  Msgr Burke is a priest.  What can he know about the daily sacrifices made by two people who live together in marriage? Well, he knows what doesn’t work.  In his position as a judge of the Roman Rota, he’s seen a lot of failed marriages, listened to a lot of sad stories.  And he can draw on the collective experiences of many couples who didn’t grow.  But he’s never gotten up in the morning to discover the toilet seat up and the toothpaste top discarded—by someone else.  He’s never had to choose whether to stay up and resolve the argument or go to bed angry.  So the lofty philosophy above might need a little practical illumination.

     In the beginning, it’s easy to serve your husband.  The sun rises and sets upon his shoulders.  Everything about him draws you closer. Serving him actually serves you; there is so much romance to be had in return for your good will.  But as time goes on, the rain falls occasionally and every good turn isn’t always met by a better one. A child is born. A husband might actually panic at first.  This eight pound wonder seems to draw so much attention, so much affection, away from him and towards the baby.  How is learning to be a mother going to make us better wives and lovers?

     When we commit our mothering to our pursuit of holiness, it all falls in line.  At first, it’s physical.  We carry the child within in us and so we abolish all physical vices.  Now, we eat according to that impossible chart in What to Eat When You’re Expecting.  We don’t even dream of sipping the foam off our husband’s beer.  We gulp down cod liver oil when just the thought of it makes us gag. We smile when people assure us that nausea and vomiting are “good things.” Giving up chocolate for Lent is easy compared to this new offering of physical sacrifice. We begin to understand what self-sacrifice really looks like. Every day is a little Lent, a little more leaning on the Holy Spirit, a little less leaning on ourselves.

     And then the baby is born.  We learn that we never have to set an alarm again and that five hours straight is a good night’s sleep.  As regularly as the monastery bells, the baby calls us to physical mortification--to hours upon hours of quiet prayer accompanied only by the squeak of the rocker and the swallows of baby at the breast. And somewhere, in the quiet of the early morning, just before dawn breaks, we look at the baby and we recognize that we want to be a better person because of her.  We pray for strength and grace and wisdom; we ask for holiness.

     We know that we are tired and so we beg for patience because we don’t want to be cranky and demanding mothers.  Nor do we want to be cranky and demanding wives. We begin to recognize that in order to shape our children into holy little beings, we have to be holy beings.  We can’t ask of them what we don’t ask of ourselves.  We want nothing more than to deliver them safely to heaven, so we begin to look carefully at our own journey. And we learn to pray, really pray.

     The children grow.  We begin to recognize that in order to inspire good attitudes and cheerful cooperation, we have to have good attitudes and cooperate cheerfully. When we are tired, when we are pulled in a million directions, when we are crucified--just a little--a dozen times a day, we pray that we can be kind and gentle and good. We notice that when we treat our husbands with kindness, our children treat each other with kindness.  Those little people who look so much like us challenge us.  They reflect us.  They beg us to work on our own sanctity—for their sakes, for our sakes, for heaven’s sake.

     A house full of children requires all the sacrifices of a small household multiplied many times over.  There is more of everything—sleepless nights, illnesses, laundry, meals, sacrifices.  More opportunities to die to oneself provided graciously by our loving Father and Creator. And more grace. More is required of everyone to get along with so many personalities.  More is learned by everyone about how God is diverse and complex and reflects His image in a myriad of people right under our own roofs. Each one unique.  Each one precious.  Each one challenging us to learn to love more, to learn to love better.

     Our edges grow softer.  Our hearts open wider.  With each baby, as our bodies grow a bit rounder, a bit more feminine, true grace begins to grow.  And that grace allows us to be a more empathetic wife, a more tender lover.  It allows us to push beyond the fatigue to listen to the long story at the end of the long business trip.  It reminds us that a backrub and a warm mug are comforting whether you are 4 or 14 or 40.   The infinite grace for which we pray with every squeak of the rocker is poured generously into our souls.  God knows that mothering a large family requires heroic effort.  God knows that providing for a large family requires heroic sacrifice. God knows that keeping a marriage healthy and holy in the midst of the cacophony and chaos of many children is a challenge no couple can meet on its own.  And God smiles on those couples and grants them every grace they need. He so wants them to ask—sometimes to beg-- to be totally dependent on Him. To be sure, they will fall to their knees in utter desperation. And as surely as the sun rises, with every baby, He showers a bounty of blessing and more than enough of everything needed for the journey to heaven. 

The Task Chart

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You asked me to elaborate on chores.  The task chart is simply a way to keep track of our pegs.  Every day, certain things are accomplished upon waking, after breakfast, after lunch, before sports, after dinner and before bed.  I've taken this somewhat cumbersome, way-too-expensive chart I bought (and an additional one a friend bought and discarded) and adapted it to suit our needs. I liberally used a very fine Sharpie to remake the disks that came with the kit.  Alternatively, you could build your own board using screw hooks and keytags.

The children's names go down the left side. The timing pegs go across the top. There are rising habits, after breakfast tasks (not really chores, we're talking hygiene here), room zone chores, and table time. Table time gets one disk (for space economy) but there are several habits built into that block of time. Then there is lunch. There are after-lunch chores, and unit/nature time (again, one disk but many habits within a day and within a week). Then there are "get ready" tasks--when we get ready for whatever afternoon activities lie ahead and clean up any messes of the day. Before launching into the afternoon whirlwind, there is tea time and then we disperse to varied activities. When we all come back, dinner is the peg.  After dinner, we need to do clean-up chores and to prepare for the next day.  And there is the bedtime routine. Each column holds what the children have to complete within a certain block. 

The Room Zone is FLYlady for their rooms.  Every day of the week has a bedroom-oriented different task assigned:  dresser tops, under beds, closets, etc.

The beauty of the peg system is that I can lay out what is planned and/or expected early in the morning and the chart becomes the objective tasmaster and the compass.  Children like to know what's next.  They like to know what's expected.  In every room, there is a laminated list of the tasks for that room, broken into steps.  For instance, on the refrigerator is a detailed list of what consititutes a clean kitchen, from "wipe the stove" to "throw all dirty rags in the hamper and turn off the lights." The children cover completed tasks with a green disk on the chore chart and we all can see at a glance what has been covered. The double edge is that I am held accountable as well.  Am I moving through the day or did I get sidelined by the computer?  Incidentally, the task chart is within easy sight of said computer.

The beauty of bucking the complicated reward/punishment system is that I can intervene with mercy and grace.  If something doesn't happen because something better happened or because someone struggled, I don't have weigh the "fairness" of a uniform punishment. ("I got a demerit yesterday and you're not giving him one today!")  There is such a wide variety of ages, abilities, and personalities in this house that I could go nuts parcelling out task-based, or even behavior-based punishments. Essentially, if your tasks aren't completed, you don't play.  We play after table time in the morning and after unit time in the afternoon and after tea time and often, well into the dusk after dinner (there aren't enough columns for all the play times and no one has trouble remembering). Since play is built in several times during the day (with soccer practice and ballet being the biggies in the afternoon), that's usually incentive enough to complete the work. Essentially. Usually.  We're a family, not a factory.

Frequently, someone will go above and beyond. They'll do more or they'll be especially cheerful.  I make an effort to note that with sincere appreciation and truly thoughtful praise. My kind words are more sincere and more fruitful in the long run, in my opinion, than a disk to be traded in for a treat. And if someone slacks off, it's easy to point out how he or she is integral to the plan and the whole family depends on his or her cheerful cooperation. The point of doing work isn't for the arbitrary reward/avoidance of punishment.  We work to serve each other.  We work because it's our duty and when everyone recognizes the necessity of fulfilling duties, it just plain makes sense to work.

Incidentally, we're working on a better picture.  The board is white and the disks are shiny so photography is proving a challenge for me.  I'll call in my 17-year-old resident expert today.

It has begun...

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Even though I still feel rather like I'm in the first trimester, my growing belly and the handy dandy spinning wheel calendar are calling incessantly that "we're halfway there!"  My head is most certainly reminding me that it's time to feather my nest.  There is much to be accomplished and only twenty weeks left to do it, ten of which will be encumbered by a belly so large that I will only be able to point and beg that it be done.

So, we begin with the most physical tasks keeping me awake at night. 

  • Our learning room needs to be ruthlessly purged and re-organized (again). 
  • Our mudroom, which made a surprise appearance at Kitchen Comforts, must be tamed. 
  • The craft room, which has somehow taken on the appearance of a dumping ground, must be restored to its former glory.
  • Fifteen years of photos need to be scrapbooked (I'm beginning to resign myself to the fact that this is how I'll spend my golden years, but I keep putting it on the list).
  • The freezer meals must be cooked and stored but first the freezer is to be defrosted in anticipation of a side of beef.
  • The pantries must be stocked (why is it that I approach having a baby the same way I approach natural disasters: bottled water, batteries, fully stocked dry goods, plenty of books?).
  • I need to make sure there is nothing under beds or couches.  Why?  I don't know; it just keeps me up at night.
  • I've already enlisted my seven-year-old to wash walls and baseboards with me, a task which will be revisited several times before the stork comes.
  • Window washing is another ongoing task.
  • The spring gardens are nearly in, but fall bulbs must be purchased so that the children can plant during the babymoon.
  • One of these weeks, I suppose we should clean out the garage.
  • And then there is the fact that I had given up on ever being so blessed again:  I gave away all my baby things.

And on and on the list goes; I know that one key to a peaceful postpartum for me is to leave for the hospital with the house in very good order.  If the underpinnings of organization are in place, the rest will work much more smoothly.  I will share details as we go.

This time will have some unique challenges.  This baby is due days before his/her brother's eighteenth birthday.  This time, my biggest task is to pull together homeschooling transcripts/portfolios for college applications before September.  I don't want to be learning this new skill while sleep-deprived and nursing, so it must be nearly finished before I go into labor. That's where my computer time will go this summer.

That means it won't go into what I usually do before a baby comes:  lesson plan overdrive.  Usually, I write pages and pages of detailed plans to take us through the first few months.  And then we follow them, more or less (often less). It's been four years since the last baby, so I think I'll just recycle the old plans.  They are written for multiple levels and everyone can just move up a level. We'll study ancient Greece and then Colonial America with a heavy dose of fall nature study and nature books.  Yes, it's eclectic, but it's also proven and I'm looking for guaranteed successes this time around. This plan will make my dear husband very happy since that means there will be no pre-baby book buying binge. We have about nine linear feet of books on these topics. Some people buy layettes.  I buy living books. Many of them.

Since we are well-stocked in the living books department for the plans I will pursue, I'll just update the workbook stash, move the living books for the units I've chosen to the forefront, and see where that takes us.Of course, Catholic Mosaic is due to arrive in my mailbox in a couple of weeks.  I reserve the right to revise the plans and the budget.

But back to the household.  I've noticed during my can't-hold-my-head up stage, that this house doesn't really run very well without my direct involvement.  Could be a problem...

Before we hit the bullet points, I need to dust off and update the daily plan.  Yes indeed, it's time to re-establish the chore chart. 

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The pegboard is from Family Tools, but I don't use it the way they intended.  I'm not into complicated reward/punishment systems.  We expect children to do chores cheerfully because that's how they serve God--just like we are expected to do our duties cheerfully and so fulfill the duties of our vocations. One of my duties is to clearly outline my expectations.  I've fallen short here in the last couple of years or so.  Slowly, I slipped into just doing it myself rather than requiring someone else to do it, teaching her to do it properly, and inspecting the job when finished.This became woefully apparent when I was out of commission.  We've begun an intensive training period in housekeeping.  Everyone needs the refresher course or they need to be taught for the first time. This is not your usual "curriculum."  But it is real. And it's oh-so-necessary, both now and later. My children will leave my home knowing everything they need to know to run their own homes. It will make their young adulthoods much more fruitful and harmonious. Their spouses will rise up and call me blessed.  At least that's the idea.