![Baby #3]()
by Catherine | Nov 4, 2012 | Faith, Family
We started talking about having another baby over the summer as “Baby Walt” approached 14 months, and big sister, Janie, was about two-and-a-half. Soon after, we received the blessed news that we were pregnant with Baby #3 and that he or she would make an appearance around May 16th. Hooray!
“Morning” sickness has been more of an all-day sickness for me that gets progressively worse into the night, and it lasted until 22 weeks with my first two pregnancies. So, when I hit the 5-week mark with this pregnancy and the nausea started, I took this as a great indicator that everything was going well. Great job, hormones! Keep doing your thing!
We shared the news early with our family and started telling friends shortly thereafter. Our philosophy with sharing the news early is that we’re always going to want the prayers and support of family and friends. If, heaven forbid, something happens to the baby, we want our friends and family to already know about the baby so that they can grieve with us. Apparently my tummy muscles decided there was no hiding this pregnancy, so I seemed to start showing around 6 weeks. Nonetheless, we decided to wait to make it “Facebook official” for awhile.
At the 8-week appointment, things went great. I measured right on target, and my hormone levels looked good. Unfortunately, the ultrasound tech had to go home sick with strep throat, so we were disappointed not to get a sneak peek at the baby. Nonetheless, it was a great appointment, and we scheduled my next visit with an ultrasound for November 8th when Philip would be post-call and able to come with me to see Baby for the first time together. (We like to keep each baby’s sex a surprise until delivery, and we don’t like calling the baby “it” or picking a gender by saying “he” or “she,” so we always call the baby “Baby.”)
As I approached week 11, my energy started to return, and I noticed that I wasn’t watching the clock waiting to be able to take my next dose of Zofran or other anti-nausea medicine. I thought, “Wow! This is awesome! Either I’m getting way better at managing the nausea the third time around, or this baby is taking it easy on me.”
Having already announced our pregnancy to our family and several friends, we decided to go ahead and come up with a fun way to announce it on Facebook. I put iron-on letters on the kids’ shirts that said “Team Pink” and “Team Blue,” and I wore a black shirt with a question mark.
Last Sunday, October 28th, we posted this picture of me and the kids:
We included the caption, “Team Pink or Team Blue? Baby Boucher #3 will make his or her appearance in May! We can’t wait to meet you, Baby!“
Almost immediately, the outpouring of support came in. Friends sent along their congratulations, prayers, and well wishes. It’s silly, but making it “Facebook official” by posting that picture felt great, and it helped the reality of a new baby joining our family to sink in a little more.
Being a planner, I’ve been thinking about how we’re going to play musical rooms when Baby arrives. Walt will move out of the nursery and share a room with Janie. I’ll finally learn how to sew and make them coordinating bedding. Baby will move into the already gender neutral nursery. Maybe we’ll splurge and buy Baby some new décor.
Baby became part of everyday conversation and our bedtime ritual. Janie regularly kissed my belly, suggested I “take some medicine to feel better” throughout the day, and practiced swaddling her Baby Stella doll. She’d stick her tummy out, pull up her shirt, and say, “Look! Baby is getting bigger!”
At bedtime, we’d sit on Janie’s floor in the dark and turn on Walt’s ladybug constellation nightlight.
The kids look up at the stars while we do our “Bedtime Sweet Talk” and prayers. We say the Guardian Angel prayer and then we say, “God bless Daddy, God bless Mommy, God bless Janie, God bless Walt, God bless Monty, and God bless all of our friends and family. Amen.” When we found out we were pregnant, we added “God bless the new baby” to the prayer.
These daily rituals and reminders added to our growing excitement to meet Baby.
Thursday night, as I was getting into bed, I felt some mild cramping and tried not to work myself into a panic when I saw that I was spotting. Philip was working an overnight shift at the hospital, so I called him to check in. Fortunately, he was able to answer, and I told him about the cramping and spotting. He suggested that I try my best not to worry, to call him if the cramping got worse or anything changed, and that we would call the doctor in the morning to see if I needed to come in.
The cramping and light bleeding continued the next day, so I called my doctor’s office and spoke with the nurse. I described my symptoms, and she told me she would speak with my doctor to see if I needed to come in. She called back to say that my doctor thought the bleeding I described sounded like the result of straining from constipation rather than something more serious, but that I should call back and come in if the bleeding or cramping intensified.
Within that hour, Philip came home from his 28-hour shift, and I relayed the doctor’s message. He gave me a big hug, said that everything was probably okay, but that we should go to the doctor if I was worried.
I hopped in the shower and the cramps seemed to get a little worse. As I shaved my legs, I let myself cry a little and said a prayer. “God, if it is Your will to take this baby, I will accept that. I know it’s going to hurt a lot, but I know that if it’s part of Your will that You are allowing it so that some greater good will come of this.”
Meanwhile, I obsessed over the continuing cramps and blood and, after talking to my sister, decided to call my doctor’s office again. “I know it all sounds like everything is probably okay, but since it’s a Friday, and I don’t want to be worrying over the weekend and until my next appointment on Thursday, can I please come in to check on things?”
Waiting
until the afternoon appointment seemed like an eternity. I said a lot of prayers to the Blessed Mother and managed to take a nap with Philip and the kids. I drifted off to sleep visualizing Christ holding Baby in one arm, and me in the other, praying, “Most Sacred Heart of Jesus, I place my trust in You” over and over again.
After our nap, we headed to the doctor’s office. It was too short of notice to arrange for a sitter, and I didn’t want to go by myself in the event that we received bad news, so we decided to go as a family. Uncharacteristically, we arrived 15 minutes early, and we probably waited for half an hour before getting called back.
My sweet OB walked into the exam room and asked the kids about Halloween and Philip about his current residency rotation before getting down to business. We discussed my cramping and bleeding as he performed a pelvic exam.
“Your uterus is measuring a little big. Why don’t we take a listen?”
He pulled out the fetal doppler to find a heartbeat. This would be the first time we would hear the baby’s heartbeat. He squeezed the “goop” onto my belly, and I waited to hear the quick galloping sound that always made me giggle and cry with joy. Walt sat in the umbrella stroller, looking around, wondering where the sound was coming from. Janie sat on Philip’s lap, and she said, “We gonna hear the baby?” Despite moving the doppler up and down, left to right, we never heard the galloping sound.
My OB wiped off my belly, helped me to sit up, and said, “OK, I’ll go and get ________ (the ultrasound tech), and let’s take a peek to see what’s going on. I’ll be right back.”
I got dressed and we gathered up our things to go into the ultrasound room. As I laid down and got some more goop on my belly, the ultrasound tech asked me a few questions.
“So, you’re having some cramping and bleeding, huh?”
“Yes. It feels like mild menstrual cramps, and I see the light spotting when I wipe.”
“This is your third pregnancy?”
“Yes.”
“Both carried to term? No complications?”
“Yes, no complications with either.”
“OK. Let’s see what’s going on in there.”
As she started moving the probe around my belly, I watched our baby appear on the monitor, and I knew. I was twelve weeks and a day along in my pregnancy, so Baby should have looked nearly fully formed but still very tiny. The baby that appeared on the monitor was very small, and Baby had very tiny limbs that only poked out a little. This sounds like a cold and crude comparison, but Baby kind of looked like a little gummy bear.
I watched as the ultrasound tech took some measurements. I couldn’t see a fluttering where Baby’s heart should have been. Philip and the kids had been sitting in chairs along a wall behind the exam table. I felt Philip’s hand on my shoulder as the ultrasound tech said, “The baby is measuring about 7 weeks, and there’s no heartbeat. I’m sorry.”
I heard the words, but my mind needed to take it in before I let my emotions catch up.
I heard my sweet Janie say in her little voice, “There’s no heart?”
The ultrasound tech told her, “Oh, I’m sorry, honey.” Then she told us, “Unfortunately, this happens sometimes in the first trimester, and there’s nothing you did wrong.”
Probably thirty seconds went by before my emotions caught up with me, and I burst into tears. It was the big, terrible, out of control, sobbing. The ultrasound tech wiped the goop on my belly, said, “I’ll give you guys some time,” and left the room.
Little Janie said, “What’s wrong, Mommy?” and Philip told her, “Baby had to go to heaven.” I sat up and he gave me a big hug. Janie insisted on sitting next to me on the exam table. Sweet little Walt kept smiling at me from the umbrella stroller. Through bleary eyes in the dark room I got dressed, and my OB came in after a few minutes.
He shook our hands and said, “I’m so sorry.” He reviewed the ultrasound images and repeated what the ultrasound tech said. “The baby is measuring 7 weeks even though you are twelve weeks and a day today, and there is no heartbeat. You see how the sac is kind of oval-shaped? That indicates that the uterus is starting the process of evacuating the baby.”
The tears stopped flowing long enough for me to hear and ask about the ugly, cold, medical side of losing a baby. We talked about the logistics of what would happen as I miscarry at home–all of the ugly realities that I had never considered until facing miscarrying my own baby. My OB said it could happen that day, the next day, or even in a few weeks. If I wanted, I could take some medicine to expedite the process. We talked about how to collect the tissue and bring it in for testing. We talked about the pain, potential complications, what’s normal and what’s not, and the possibility of a D&C.
At the end of our conversation, my OB said, “Please call us if you need anything or if you’d like that medicine to move things along. This is a real loss, so take all the time you need to grieve your baby. I am so sorry. I’ll go and get _______ (his nurse) to bring you that container.”
After he left, I racked my brain, thinking of all of the things I didn’t want to forget about this moment or things to ask about or for before we left. I said to Philip, “Can you please ask them for the ultrasound pictures? I want to have them.” He said, “Of course,” and went to find the ultrasound tech. I started to pack up our things when my OB’s sweet nurse came in and gave me a big hug.
“I’m so glad we came in today,” I said.
“Me too,” she said, still hugging me.
She put the sterile container into my diaper bag and said that she was so sorry for our loss.
Philip came back with the ultrasound picture. As I zipped Walt into his jacket, Janie accidentally knocked some magazines off of a table. Instantly, the ultrasound tech and my OB’s nurse said, “Don’t worry about it! Go ahead!” as I bent over to pick them up.&
nbsp; We thanked everyone, said goodbye, and walked out of the ultrasound room.
I was instructed to keep a full bladder for the ultrasound, so I told Philip I needed to stop at the restroom on our way out. He said he would wait for me with the kids in the waiting room. After I closed the door behind me, I cried for a minute and collected myself before walking out to the waiting room.
I walked past my OB’s nurse who was on the phone with another patient, and I walked past the ultrasound tech who was talking to the office receptionist. She didn’t see me walking by. I heard her say, “I performed an ultrasound on Catherine _________, Dr. __________’s patient, and the baby is deceased, so please cancel her appointment on November 8th.” That was that. No need to come back next week. My baby was deceased.
I went through the waiting room door to find my sweet children and teary husband waiting for me. The trip down the elevator, through the building lobby, and out to the car is pretty hazy. I remember buckling Janie into her car seat and her asking me, “What’s wrong, Mama? You sad?” I told her, “Yes, Mommy and Daddy are sad because we miss Baby. But Baby is a saint in heaven, so that makes us very happy.”
Since it was November 2, All Souls Day, Janie had gotten a lesson on All Saints Day and who saints are the day before. She said, “Baby’s in heaven? I want to be a saint.”
As Philip pulled the minivan out of the parking lot, I said, “I’m so glad you came because I don’t think I could have driven myself home,” and I burst back into those big, terrible, out of control tears. Philip cried and said, “I know. I’m glad, too.”
I cried off and on during the ride home. We talked about how glad we were that we didn’t wait to go in. We talked about it being a blessing that we knew that Baby had died before I miscarried at home. We talked about it being All Souls Day. I admitted to Philip that I thought something might have been wrong when I started feeling less nauseous and more energetic. I said I was scared to miscarry and wondered how painful it would be.
Finally, I said that I wanted to call my family members and start sharing the news while I could still talk, and I asked Philip if he was ready to share the news. He said to go ahead and start calling. I figured it would be harder to talk as time went on, and I wanted to tell my family members about losing Baby myself.
The hardest conversation was probably talking to my dad. I had called my mom on her way out of the office for the day, but I waited a few hours until after I knew Dad was home and Mom had already told him before I called. Ugh, it’s so hard to share sad news with your dad and hear him heartbroken for you. We cried, we talked about Baby being a saint that will pray and intercede for all of us, and I told him how I was doing. I said, “I know there’s not a right way or a wrong way to feel and that I’m still processing that we lost the baby, but I can’t help but feel an overwhelming sense of peace. My faith and Philip’s faith is in such a good place right now that we have to believe that God loves us even more than we love our own children and that He is allowing this because He knows that something good will come of it. I’m waiting for those graces to come, and I’m trusting in that plan, and I’m going to keep grieving, but the more powerful feeling is peace. I’ve been praying to the Blessed Mother all day because she knows what it’s like to lose a child. She’ll give me the strength I need.” Dad said all kinds of sweet and supportive things, but the thing that made me tear up the most was him saying, “I wish you were a little girl again and I could take you to the toystore to try and cheer you up and make it all better.” Now that I’m a parent, I understand that. You want to do everything you can to take away your baby’s hurt, and he knows he can’t.
When we put the kids to bed that night, we gathered on Janie’s bedroom floor and looked at the nightlight stars and moon on the ceiling like always. Philip recapped the day for our “Bedtime Sweet Talk” since I couldn’t, and he led us in our usual Guardian Angel Prayer followed with, “God bless Daddy, God bless Mommy, God bless Janie, God bless Walt, God bless Baby in heaven, God bless Monty, and God bless all of our friends and family.” I love him for remembering Baby in our prayer.
It doesn’t get easier each time I call someone to say that Baby died, but it does help to talk about the reality of our loss and sadness. We don’t regret sharing the news of our pregnancy a week ago only to have to share that Baby died shortly thereafter. We are glad that we shared the joy of celebrating in Baby’s life so that we can grieve with those same people who shared in our joy.
I haven’t gone through the physical ordeal of losing Baby yet, and I know that will be the hardest part of all. Anticipating that time, I’m sure I’ll be praying two prayers, and I ask you to please pray them for me as well. I will pray to the Blessed Mother to give me the strength she had to endure standing at the foot of the cross, watch her son die, and fulfill Simeon’s prophesy that her heart would be pierced with a sword. My second prayer will be that I have the faith to pray, “Most Sacred Heart of Jesus, I place my trust in You.” If I don’t have the strength to pray or do anything else but physically get through the moment, I hope I can find strength and peace as I gaze at my Sacred Heart high school class ring with the image of Jesus and Mary’s hearts intertwined.
Philip and I decided we wanted to name Baby so that when we pray to our saint in heaven or talk about Baby, we have a name. We weren’t far enough in the pregnancy to be able to know Baby’s sex. Since Philip and I had an inkling that Baby was a girl, we chose a girl’s name–Thérèse. Like St. Thérèse of Lisieux, our own “little flower” lived a short time and will spend the rest of her life in heaven, interceding as a prayer warrior for others.
Last night as we were trying to go to sleep, I thanked Philip for being so good about hearing all of the things I was thinking, but that I wanted to hear how he was feeling and what he was thinking. The thing that stood out the most was him
saying through tears, “I think we’re really lucky, you know. We have a child that we know is a saint in heaven, and that’s what we want for our children. We’re lucky to have the extra motivation to get each other and our other children to heaven so that we can all be together as a family.”
Thank you for sharing in our joy, and thank you for sharing in our grief. Thank you in advance for your prayers, for allowing us to grieve, for listening, for just being there, and for all of the many other ways you are helping. Having faith that God allowed this tragedy as part of His plan doesn’t make our suffering easier, but it gives our suffering purpose and meaning. We are just beginning the grieving and healing, and we know we will somehow get through this time with our faith and the support, prayers, and love of our family and friends. Thérèse is and will forever be a beloved saint for our family.
![Thriving at Home During Ordinary Time]()
by Catherine | Oct 26, 2012 | Faith, Family, The Homefront
I asked friends to send me blog topic suggestions since I was in a writing rut. A friend sent me this:
“Write about the struggles of being a mom, a stay at home mom. We…meaning I, have been having a rough week of it and as sad as it sounds, would like to hear that I am not the only one that struggles with being at home all day with (insert number) kids who seem bent on doing nothing but fight and scream at each other and destroy every last bit of patience you have.”
Instantly, I remembered a post from my favorite blogger, Simcha Fisher, on this very topic. She called it, “Escape from Babyland.” (Forgive me for including such a long excerpt, but Simcha is too good to only share a sentence or two!)
What’s the one thing frazzled young moms always hear? “These years go by so quickly — enjoy it while you can!” Which is sort of like getting a severe sunburn and hearing, “Summer will be gone before you know it — enjoy it while you can!”
Oh, settle down. I’m not really saying that spending time with your nice little baby is a blistering agony. As the proud owner of a schnoogily, schnoogily little baby girl who has two pearly little teeth and the cutiest, wootiest style of scooty crawling that any baby in the history of ever has ever invented because she is brilliant, believe me when I say that there is nothing nicer than babies. It’s true: Babies do grow up incredibly quickly, and the special joy of the baby years melts away like fog in the midmorning sun. I’m not looking forward to the day when my kids will be gone.
Still, there is only so much joy a person can stand. I can remember, for instance, having three children, all in diapers. When my husband came home in the evening, and I would feel confused, unsure of how to deal with something that wasn’t a bottom. I knew he had many wonderful qualities, but my favorite thing about him was that he could pour his own juice. All day, every day, everything was up to me, me, me, and even though I loved my work, it was unrelenting.
In short, I was stuck in Babyland. Babyland is a wonderful place, where all the voices are squeaky, all the clothes are adorable, love and affection flows freely, and where mothers often go to lose their minds entirely, and would trade their immortal soul for five minutes of adult conversation and an uninterrupted cup of coffee.
So when I see a young mom struggling wearily through the day, I don’t tell her, “These days go by so quickly,” even though this is true. What I say is, “The years go by quickly — but the days sure are long, aren’t they?” And then I say, “Don’t worry — you won’t always be stuck in Babyland.”
As a family, we have plenty of anniversaries, birthdays, memorials, and other traditions to celebrate together. In between those special celebrations, there’s plenty of the ordinary, too–especially the long days in Babyland.
This got me to thinking about the changing seasons, winter looming ahead, the upcoming holidays, and the liturgical calendar. Just like our family calendars, the Church’s liturgical calendar also has plenty of Ordinary Time. The Church doesn’t call this time “Ordinary” because it’s somehow humdrum or boring. I can’t possibly explain the meaning of Ordinary Time better than Catholic Culture, so I’ll just copy and paste their summary:
Ordinary Time, meaning ordered or numbered time, is celebrated in two segments: from the Monday following the Baptism of Our Lord up to Ash Wednesday; and from Pentecost Monday to the First Sunday of Advent. This makes it the largest season of the Liturgical Year.
In vestments usually green, the color of hope and growth, the Church counts the thirty-three or thirty-four Sundays of Ordinary Time, inviting her children to meditate upon the whole mystery of Christ – his life, miracles and teachings – in the light of his Resurrection.
If the faithful are to mature in the spiritual life and increase in faith, they must descend the great mountain peaks of Easter and Christmas in order to “pasture” in the vast verdant meadows of tempus per annum, or Ordinary Time.
Sunday by Sunday, the Pilgrim Church marks her journey through the tempus per annum as she processes through time toward eternity.
Check out the 2012 Liturgical Calendar below. The purple is Advent and Lent, yellow is Christmas and Easter, and do you see all of that green? That, my friends, is Ordinary Time.
In between the feasting and fasting, Mother Church gives us a chance to live out the Truths of the Faith in the Ordinary. Ordinary Time is our opportunity to follow along on the path of obedience as disciples of Christ. There is so much to learn, practice, and implement in our daily lives. The word disciple came to us from other words meaning “pupil, student, follower,” “to learn,” “to grasp,” “to accept.” If we’re going to be disciples, we need to be a pupil willing to learn, grasp, and accept what it is that God asks of us on a daily basis–especially in the ordinary.
For the average stay-at-home mom, there’s plenty of ordinary, and a lot of our days are cyclical. In fact, in my less than grace-filled moments I’ve complained th
at some days I feel like Sisyphus, pushing that boulder up the hill only to have it come rolling back down, or like a hamster on a spinning wheel.
Make a meal, serve a meal, clean up a meal. Repeat.
Wash clothes, dry clothes, fold clothes, put away clothes, wear clothes. Repeat.
I’m sitting here, thinking about all of the things I do over and over again on a daily, weekly, and monthly basis. It would be mind-numbing and depressing if I believed what the world told me about my job. The world wants me to believe that I’m wasting my brain, I’m acting like a slave, I’m unfulfilled, and that I’m not supposed to be happy at home. At the right event, I might even be tempted to believe all of that when I consider the questions people ask when they find out I stay at home.
“What do you do all day?”
“Don’t you miss work?
“How can you stand it?!”
“What do you do to keep your mind from going to mush?”
Couple those negative voices and outside pressures to hate being at home with, say, a family bout of the stomach flu, a child’s decision to go on a hunger strike, a broken furnace, and a beloved family heirloom memento being smashed to smithereens by a toddler, and the temptation to say, “What in the world am I doing?!” can seem overwhelming.
Fortunately, the ample ordinary time at home forces me to face my vices head-on and, hopefully, do something to combat them. I don’t necessarily smile with every dirty diaper or swipe of the dust rag, but the ordinary days provide me with countless opportunities to make an essential choice: Will I choose to give my life in service of those I love, or will I resist self-sacrifice and give in to my vices?
I’ve noticed a pattern. When I’m keeping my priorities straight (God, husband, children, extended family, everyone and everything else), it’s a lot easier to resist my vices, and I’m much more productive. When I abandon my prayer time because I’m “too busy,” don’t spend quality time with Philip, or focus on the housework more than the children, I’m unhappier, the days don’t have direction, and the pity parties happen on an hourly basis. Those are the days when I give in to the temptation to throw my hands in the air and say, “I give up!”
Two months ago, I had what should have been one of those “I give up!” days. Philip was in the midst of his month of working night shifts, and after three weeks, it had lost its novelty. It had been an especially long day, and I was tired. Just as I had put the babies down for bed and sat down on the couch, Philip called to check in. I started to tell him that it had been a long day, that we missed him, but that it was going alright, when I heard Walt make a strange noise. I told Philip that I would call him back and opened the nursery door to discover that Walt had thrown up.
The poor baby was covered from head to toe, as were his crib, sheets, blankets, and surrounding wall and furniture. I gave him a bath, cleaned the wall, crib, and carpet, changed his sheets, rocked him back to sleep, and washed his bedding.
As I came upstairs from starting the wash, I heard Walt getting sick again. I opened the door and took a deep breath as I turned on the lamp to take in the scene. It was deja vu. Walt and his surroundings looked just as they had forty-five minutes before.
I picked up my poor, sweet baby and let myself cry for one minute. Then, from seemingly out of nowhere, I heard myself say, “Most Sacred Heart of Jesus, I place my trust in You. Blessed Mother, please help me! Make me patient, gentle, and loving.” Of course, that prayer didn’t come out of nowhere. Despite it being a stressful month, I had been keeping my priority of relationships straight, and my prayer life was strong. I know the Holy Spirit was helping me in that moment to make that choice that I make countless times everyday: Will I choose to give my life in service of those I love, or will I resist self-sacrifice and give in to my vices? With some extra grace, I was able to pray and make the right choice instead of saying, “I give up!” and throwing myself a pity party.
I was even able to laugh when I realized the washing machine was still filling from the first load, so I had time to throw in the second set of dirty bedding and pajamas! Now THAT is looking on the bright side!
I don’t share that story as a pat-on-the-back moment. I know it wasn’t me that got me through that night. I share that story because I believe it illustrates that we need only ask God for the graces to get through the “I give up!” moments that fill the ordinary days (and nights!). He’s our Loving Father, and He wants us to come to Him in our time of need instead of being prideful enough to think that we can handle it all on our own.
When we maintain the proper order of relationships, take the days in stride, keep our sense of humor, and reach out to our husbands, family, and friends to lovingly correct us when we’ve gone offtrack, the ordinary days are full of “my cup runneth over” joy instead of “how am I going to get through this day?!” despair. We don’t have to love every moment or drop to our knees in thanksgiving for every opportunity of redemptive suffering, but we do need to figure out whether our presence is lovingly advancing our family’s mission or if we are derailing it with doomy gloomy negativity and self-absorption.
It’s good to admit when you’re going through a difficult phase and do something about it–ask for help, ask for honest input, and, when necessary, seek out spiritual direction or professional counseling. What’s not okay is living each day as a martyr, building up resentment, not communicating with others about problems, just getting through the day.
God didn’t give us His Son so that we could get through the day. Jesus “came so that they might have life and have it more abundantly” (John 10:10). Just as the liturgical color of Ordinary Time is green, the color of life and growth,
our ordinary days should be marked by daily growth and advancement of our mission as disciples.
![Easy Pinterest Art Project]()
by Catherine | Sep 27, 2012 | The Homefront
I found the inspiration for our Pinterest art project here. Here’s a picture of the original:
We liked the original idea, but we wanted square canvases and cleaner lines that didn’t allow the paint to bleed. Thanks to the Jo-Anns Labor Day Sale, we got the canvases, spray paint, and painter’s tape at 40% off. This would prove to be an even sweeter deal when we made a mistake and had to buy another canvas. (Fortunately, I had another coupon to get the 4th canvas at 40% off as well!)
The supplies:
Here is the blank wall that we wanted to fill.
Canvases with blue painter’s tape. We tested one canvas at a time. Unfortunately, the blue painter’s tape allowed the spray paint to bleed underneath because it bubbled.
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| Although it was thicker than I wanted, we switched to the green painter’s tape. It stuck much better than the blue and survived two coats of spray paint for even color. Make sure the tape wraps completely around the sides as well. |
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Removing the tape
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| Let the spray paint dry at least 24 hours. Make sure to remove the very top strip of tape, one at a time. |
| Removing the tape on our green canvas. |
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| Finished product up on the walls |
Hooray for a fun, successful, inexpensive art project!
![Plugging Your Life's Meters]()
by Catherine | Sep 14, 2012 | Faith, Family, Marriage, The Homefront
August was a dry spell for me–emotionally, physically, spiritually. I’m calling September my recovery month!
Philip, amazing husband and pediatric resident, was working a month of nights. Despite all of his best efforts to make the month a painless one, it was difficult. If this makes any sense, I felt like a married but single mom. Philip needed his rest during the day, did his best to spend a few hours with me and the kids between naps, and left for the hospital in the late afternoon. The evenings were long, and after the kids went to bed, I was left to my own devices–to do some housework, bake, or prep the next day’s meal. When I was feeling less than industrious, which was more often than not, I wasted too much time on the Internet, read, or indulged in the occasional pity party.
I developed a lot of bad habits that month. I neglected my afternoon prayer during the kids’ naptime. I justified it, telling myself it was important to take a nap with Philip and spend some time with him that way–even if we were just sleeping next to each other. I stayed up way too late in the evenings, playing on Pinterest, checking Facebook, or reading articles online because I struggled to sleep without Philip home. I let the kids watch too much television. I justified it because, for that month, I was a single mom who was just doing the best she could. Looking back, it’s downright terrifying how easily I could justify all of those lies to myself.
Fortunately, for me and my family, the month of nights is over, and we’re getting back into our refreshingly normal, ho-hum routine. With our routine back in action, I’m trying to drop my bad habits (vices) and trying to build some good habits (virtues)! My hope is that these good habits, or virtues, will become such a part of my life that the next time a difficult patch (like a month of Philip working nights) hits, I’ll be better prepared.
The key, so far, seems to be “feeding the meters” of all areas of my life by giving them a “time-in” each day. These focused, dedicated segments of time to the different areas of my life are paying off in big ways. It seems counter-intuitive, but when I give as much of myself as I can to all areas of my life, I have more energy, and I end up accomplishing more.
I plug my spiritual meter by coming to God in dedicated prayer time. He’s never outdone in generosity! Not only do I usually walk away with a much-needed reality check, but He multiplies my time, and I almost always complete my daily do-it list after dedicated prayer time. Someday, hopefully soon, I will have enough self-discipline to wake up before the children and start my day with this dedicated prayer time.
I plug my children’s meters when I give them lavish affection, read an extra book before nap/bedtime, put a spotlight on their good behavior, embrace the mess of a new craft/baking project, or get down on the ground and join them in play. When my children receive more time-ins during the day than time-outs, I’m rewarded as a parent in two major ways:
- They return the attention with their own lavish affection.
- They “run off the fumes” of our time together and allow me to get a few things done after our time-in.
I plug my own meter emotionally by giving myself real breaks throughout the day. I thought I was getting a lot accomplished by constantly multitasking. I’m getting much more accomplished when I tackle each project one at a time and give myself two 10-minute breaks in the day (one before lunch and one before dinner). I spend my break time reading inspiring articles, checking Facebook, or adding pins on Pinterest. Rather than leave the laptop computer open on the kitchen counter all day, I created new technology boundaries. The laptop can only be open for a few reasons:
- I am taking one of my two (AM & PM) 10-minute breaks.
- I am reading a recipe online while I am making dinner.
- I am returning e-mails or other online correspondence for no longer than half an hour.
- I am blogging (with no other windows/programs open) after I complete my prayer time.
I keep my laptop closed so that I don’t see incoming e-mails, Facebook notifications, etc. I leave my daily do-it list on top of the closed laptop so that I have a visual reminder that I have other things I need to accomplish during the day before indulging in these online distractions. With my built-in breaks and a closed laptop, I don’t feel the temptation to keep up with e-mails, Facebook, Pinterest, etc. I know that I can take my break when I need it, and the time will be spent exclusively on enjoying it. With the built-in breaks, I don’t get burnt out doing everything else during the day. Without the breaks, I was getting burnt out by lunchtime and would have what I call a “Bad Mama Moment.” A “Bad Mama Moment” is doing something like losing yourself in a half an hour of Pinterest while your kids stare at the television because you haven’t taken a break all day. To keep my “Bad Mama Moments” as few and far between as possible, I set a timer for my AM and PM breaks. When I hear the timer go off after 10 minutes, I’m able to close the laptop and get back to the work of the day refreshed.
I plug our marriage meter when I help Philip to “rejoice in the wife of (his) youth.” When I do that, I am remembering to fill his meter before the children’s meters. When I make a nice meal, give him a warm welcome home, show genuine interest in his day, give him affection, suggest we do something other than watch television, and keep a firm bedtime routine with the children, I am showing Philip that I love our children, but that he is still my first priority. With self-discipline on my part, we are able to have nutritious, home-cooked dinners at
least 6 nights out of the week, and the kids are asleep by 8:00 so that we can have an hour or two together before bed. With that dedicated time one-on-one, we have more energy to fill our spiritual, physical, and emotional meters together. Our prayer life together is back in full-bloom, and we feel more intimate physically and emotionally.
With the help of some truly amazing girlfriends, I am learning that it is a good, beautiful, and often necessary thing to take a break or ask for help. For example, one sweet friend brought over a coffee and watched the kids this morning so that I could run a few errands by myself. I felt like I was on vacation! When I backed out of the driveway in my minivan all by myself, I felt dangerous listening to the music a little louder than usual and luxuriously looking at clothes for myself. When I came back, the kids were happy to see me, I was refreshed, and we read every single book we checked out from the library this week before naptime just because. The time apart from each other was good for all of us, and my friend was happy to help out because she knows I’ll do the same for her whenever she needs it.
This same friend and her husband do a monthly date night swap with us. One night each month, each couple has a chance to go on a date while the other couple babysits. The babysitting couple brings their kiddos over to the other couple’s house. The kiddos play together until bedtime, and the visiting kiddos return home with their dad. The babysitting mom stays until the couple returns home. Both couples get one free date night a month, and the kiddos have another chance to see their buddies. It’s a win-win for everyone involved!
For now, this plugging the meters approach is working to build good habits in my daily life. My prayer life is better, the kids are happier, our marriage is flourishing, and I am much healthier physically and emotionally with the fun of friendships and real breaks throughout my day.
I’m still a work in progress, and I will be until the day I die, so in no way am I doing a perfect job of filling all of my life’s meters on a daily basis. Some days, I’ll do a great job of filling one meter but completely neglect others. I’m learning that everything else seems to fall in place when I keep my spiritual meter fed. God helps keep all of the other meters in perspective. So long as I’m showing God that I love Him and show the people He put in my life that I’m trying, it’s a good day.
![Plugging Your Life’s Meters]()
by Catherine | Sep 14, 2012 | Faith, Family, Marriage, The Homefront
August was a dry spell for me–emotionally, physically, spiritually. I’m calling September my recovery month!
Philip, amazing husband and pediatric resident, was working a month of nights. Despite all of his best efforts to make the month a painless one, it was difficult. If this makes any sense, I felt like a married but single mom. Philip needed his rest during the day, did his best to spend a few hours with me and the kids between naps, and left for the hospital in the late afternoon. The evenings were long, and after the kids went to bed, I was left to my own devices–to do some housework, bake, or prep the next day’s meal. When I was feeling less than industrious, which was more often than not, I wasted too much time on the Internet, read, or indulged in the occasional pity party.
I developed a lot of bad habits that month. I neglected my afternoon prayer during the kids’ naptime. I justified it, telling myself it was important to take a nap with Philip and spend some time with him that way–even if we were just sleeping next to each other. I stayed up way too late in the evenings, playing on Pinterest, checking Facebook, or reading articles online because I struggled to sleep without Philip home. I let the kids watch too much television. I justified it because, for that month, I was a single mom who was just doing the best she could. Looking back, it’s downright terrifying how easily I could justify all of those lies to myself.
Fortunately, for me and my family, the month of nights is over, and we’re getting back into our refreshingly normal, ho-hum routine. With our routine back in action, I’m trying to drop my bad habits (vices) and trying to build some good habits (virtues)! My hope is that these good habits, or virtues, will become such a part of my life that the next time a difficult patch (like a month of Philip working nights) hits, I’ll be better prepared.
The key, so far, seems to be “feeding the meters” of all areas of my life by giving them a “time-in” each day. These focused, dedicated segments of time to the different areas of my life are paying off in big ways. It seems counter-intuitive, but when I give as much of myself as I can to all areas of my life, I have more energy, and I end up accomplishing more.
I plug my spiritual meter by coming to God in dedicated prayer time. He’s never outdone in generosity! Not only do I usually walk away with a much-needed reality check, but He multiplies my time, and I almost always complete my daily do-it list after dedicated prayer time. Someday, hopefully soon, I will have enough self-discipline to wake up before the children and start my day with this dedicated prayer time.
I plug my children’s meters when I give them lavish affection, read an extra book before nap/bedtime, put a spotlight on their good behavior, embrace the mess of a new craft/baking project, or get down on the ground and join them in play. When my children receive more time-ins during the day than time-outs, I’m rewarded as a parent in two major ways:
- They return the attention with their own lavish affection.
- They “run off the fumes” of our time together and allow me to get a few things done after our time-in.
I plug my own meter emotionally by giving myself real breaks throughout the day. I thought I was getting a lot accomplished by constantly multitasking. I’m getting much more accomplished when I tackle each project one at a time and give myself two 10-minute breaks in the day (one before lunch and one before dinner). I spend my break time reading inspiring articles, checking Facebook, or adding pins on Pinterest. Rather than leave the laptop computer open on the kitchen counter all day, I created new technology boundaries. The laptop can only be open for a few reasons:
- I am taking one of my two (AM & PM) 10-minute breaks.
- I am reading a recipe online while I am making dinner.
- I am returning e-mails or other online correspondence for no longer than half an hour.
- I am blogging (with no other windows/programs open) after I complete my prayer time.
I keep my laptop closed so that I don’t see incoming e-mails, Facebook notifications, etc. I leave my daily do-it list on top of the closed laptop so that I have a visual reminder that I have other things I need to accomplish during the day before indulging in these online distractions. With my built-in breaks and a closed laptop, I don’t feel the temptation to keep up with e-mails, Facebook, Pinterest, etc. I know that I can take my break when I need it, and the time will be spent exclusively on enjoying it. With the built-in breaks, I don’t get burnt out doing everything else during the day. Without the breaks, I was getting burnt out by lunchtime and would have what I call a “Bad Mama Moment.” A “Bad Mama Moment” is doing something like losing yourself in a half an hour of Pinterest while your kids stare at the television because you haven’t taken a break all day. To keep my “Bad Mama Moments” as few and far between as possible, I set a timer for my AM and PM breaks. When I hear the timer go off after 10 minutes, I’m able to close the laptop and get back to the work of the day refreshed.
I plug our marriage meter when I help Philip to “rejoice in the wife of (his) youth.” When I do that, I am remembering to fill his meter before the children’s meters. When I make a nice meal, give him a warm welcome home, show genuine interest in his day, give him affection, suggest we do something other than watch television, and keep a firm bedtime routine with the children, I am showing Philip that I love our children, but that he is still my first priority. With self-discipline on my part, we are able to have nutritious, home-cooked dinners at least 6 nights out of the week, and the kids are asleep by 8:00 so that we can have an hour or two together before bed. With that dedicated time one-on-one, we have more energy to fill our spiritual, physical, and emotional meters together. Our prayer life together is back in full-bloom, and we feel more intimate physically and emotionally.
With the help of some truly amazing girlfriends, I am learning that it is a good, beautiful, and often necessary thing to take a break or ask for help. For example, one sweet friend brought over a coffee and watched the kids this morning so that I could run a few errands by myself. I felt like I was on vacation! When I backed out of the driveway in my minivan all by myself, I felt dangerous listening to the music a little louder than usual and luxuriously looking at clothes for myself. When I came back, the kids were happy to see me, I was refreshed, and we read every single book we checked out from the library this week before naptime just because. The time apart from each other was good for all of us, and my friend was happy to help out because she knows I’ll do the same for her whenever she needs it.
This same friend and her husband do a monthly date night swap with us. One night each month, each couple has a chance to go on a date while the other couple babysits. The babysitting couple brings their kiddos over to the other couple’s house. The kiddos play together until bedtime, and the visiting kiddos return home with their dad. The babysitting mom stays until the couple returns home. Both couples get one free date night a month, and the kiddos have another chance to see their buddies. It’s a win-win for everyone involved!
For now, this plugging the meters approach is working to build good habits in my daily life. My prayer life is better, the kids are happier, our marriage is flourishing, and I am much healthier physically and emotionally with the fun of friendships and real breaks throughout my day.
I’m still a work in progress, and I will be until the day I die, so in no way am I doing a perfect job of filling all of my life’s meters on a daily basis. Some days, I’ll do a great job of filling one meter but completely neglect others. I’m learning that everything else seems to fall in place when I keep my spiritual meter fed. God helps keep all of the other meters in perspective. So long as I’m showing God that I love Him and show the people He put in my life that I’m trying, it’s a good day.
