Wednesday, August 27, 2014

I am coming out of the closet

My home has gone from 7 full-time occupants to 3.5 in 2.5 years.

Why the .5 on the people?

.5 will be home occasionally.

We all know when you leave home, you really come back to visit.  It isn't your "home" anymore.

These people pretty much left with a bag or two.

I have a house full of @(@*#(&#(*)(&#%^^$^ for 7 people.

My boys went back to school and my first mission was to clean their rooms.  I am not an immaculate housekeeper but I used to clean them regularly.

It has been over 3 years since it was done.

I started with the easiest room.  It was easier because 2 years ago when my oldest left, my middle hootiekin was given rights to the room.  It went from kittens and 2 tone purples (I PROMISE the purple was palatable.) to a tanish color.  He helped me paint it.  Very excited to take over his big sister's old room.  Now this fellow will return on holidays and for the summer.  We are part owners of the room now.

 I started on the second room.  The second room used to be occupied by a person that no longer lives here.  I saved money and gave this room to #4 hootiekin for his birthday.  No more sharing. The pink glitter walls will go tomorrow.   It will be filled with trains and race cars instead of horses, Celtic Thunder, Kasey Kane pictures and the guitar music she played.  Might I add, she taught herself to play and is amazing.  I cleaned it out once only to deliver belongings.  I cleaned it out this time.  Scrap booking stuff, a missing earing, a lost sock, pictures, half finished projects, a pink and brown rug all gone. 

Taking down taped up pictures of Damien and Kasey brought me back to the night that I took my two daughters to a Celtic Thunder concert at the Fox theatre.  My shy younger daughter was completely infatuated with Damien.  The concert started.  She was beside herself.  I worried.  There was an elderly couple seated right beside her.  She was almost ready to explode with excitement.  I had really splurged.  We were in the 3rd row right in the middle.  There for all the action.  As close as I could get her. 
Damien McGinty started to sing his first solo song.

My shy daughter released a shriek that cause damage in my right ear and then proclaimed the following, "AAAAAAHHHHHHH  DAMIEN! AHHHHHHHHH!!!!  DAMIEN, I LOVE YOU!"  And then more of those shrieking noises were produced.  Damien obviously heard it all because he stammered and what not on the stage.  I was so worried for the couple beside her.  After the show they came up and said they had never had so much fun at the Fox.  They must have had many memories to relive on their way home.

Down the pictures went.  Off of the closet door.  Into the trash.  I cant save everything.  I can't.

A piece of my heart felt like it went into the trash too.

I breathed deeply.  The rest of the closet followed. 

I swept up spiders and webs and things I am not sure what they were but I heard them leaving.  I wiped down the shelves.

The end of another era.

The next room.  Oh golly.  All I have to say is . . . AND ALL MOTHER'S WILL UNDERSTAND!!!  It had been occupied by three boys and then 2 boys and was FINALLY only this youngest Hootiekin.  He got his birthday present when I gave the other one his own room.  That meant he too had his own space.  I remember telling him.  I said, "Guess what I am giving your brother for his birthday?"  He guessed many things.  I finally told him, "His own room."  He digested the whole thing for a second and then his eyes lit up and he said, "That means I GET MY OWN ROOM TOO!!!!"  "Yes."  I said.  "That is your birthday present."

Neither knew that for a mother this was a most expensive present for both of them.  I could have kept the other doors shut and left them all in one room.

So, I head into the final room.





Really, I think my youngest was trying to create biological weapons.

He succeeded.  I just wont tell him just yet.

I didn't realize how much I had avoided, couldn't do, or closed the door on while trying to deal with many things. 

This next statement is for you mothers out there!!!  I was finding clothes 3 years beyond being able to be worn and every size between for all seasons.  I cannot ask a 10 year old to clean this!!!!  I can't hardly handle it and I am a seasoned veteran.

It took me 10 hours.  It still isn't done.  But it will be today.

In order to finish the bedrooms upstairs, I knew this morning,  "I HAD TO tackle the spare bedroom/storage room."

It started out that I just had clean sheets for the bed.  Then one thing led to another.

Here I am.  At a computer instead of cleaning.


Why did I feel compelled to stop my frenzy to type?

For me? For whom might read this?  Maybe both.

Over the past several years and really over my whole life, the stories others share have helped me make decisions.  Helped me know that others are not perfect either.  Others cry, get mad, fall down, succeed, sin, repent, and everything in between.  Some don't deserve the madness at all.  Others know it is penance.  All have shared how they "climbed the mountain."

Here I am.

My life.  The most important parts of it are all coming out of the closets.

I found half eaten petrified bagels, notes, stickers, broken things I can't find that somebody hid because of whatever reason, clothes my mother gave me 'because these polyester dresses and suits are made so well and you can wear them' and I can remember how I admired my mother wearing them (she is amazing folks!!!  Giving away those things are like giving away Superman's get-up or the Bat Mobile), small clothes, big clothes, dirty underwear, scissors, socks, dirty underwear, Christmas presents I hid, projects I never finished, ideas to make a perfect home, more dirty underwear (mother's of boys understand), dirty missing spoons, brown recluse spiders (we used to battle often but I had given them rights over the closets), and most of all my heart and soul for 20 years have gone into what I find in the closets. 

Ill be darn.

There they are.

I put them in the closet too.

Funny.   Aside from spider and silver fish, nothing lives there.

But, there in the closets are 20+ years of life.

All material goods.  Funny how we, humans, attach such significance to the CRAP!!!

(Yes, I used that word for all that know me and understand my feelings on this word.  In my dictionary, it is a naughty word).

Here I am facing the task of deciding what tangible memories stay or go.

Into the trash most of it violently went, has gone or is going.

I am a mother.  I remember 10 years ago when I knew I would not have anymore children.
I couldn't have all of my baby items staring at me.  I went through it all in a day.  For me, that is remarkable.  I packed up baby paraphernalia loaded it in my Suburban taking them to a home for mothers that chose to keep their babies and needed help.

At least my pain and material goods can help someone else.

I couldn't hold a new baby for years.  I acted tough.  Like I really didn't care to have a baby in my arms.

People would ask, "So, when is the next one?"

I'd smile and say whenever God blesses me with another.  I'd love it.

Fast forward 10 years.

I am 10 years older.  I feel I am there again in an odd way.

My household numbers are truly at a minimum. 

For mothers it is very bittersweet.

I didn't even know what to do with my eldest daughter when they handed her to me.  I felt like I was taking care of an alien.

To my children, I publicly say, being a mother has been the most wonderful, amazing, frustrating, charming, incredible thing ever.  I deeply cherish you all.  I have grown from each of you.

The most difficult thing for a mother is understanding the God given gift of free will and accepting it.

I am not God but I understand how dearly He loves us stupid children of His and why the gift of free will is truly a gift of love.

Here I am.  The feast of St. Monica.

Patron of Mothers.
My patroness.

My middle name is Monica and my son's middle name is Augustine after her son.

I wrote this Saturday.  Alone all weekend.
My dear friend saw me Sunday morning.

I arrived to Mass Sunday.  Late, no hat or mantilla, no prayer book, and not feeling good enough to even enter the church but thinking I'll just be hanging out in the vestibule.
My bucket overflowed when I locked my keys in my car right before entering the vestibule.

I smiled and looked at her sweet baby.  I wasn't jealous.  It took be back to the many years I spent my time in the vestibule, cry room, bathroom or finally in the car with my own children.

I left.  I didn't mean to make her feel bad.

It is fitting to finish this post today.

I leave it with this prayer/plea:

Dear Lord,  PLEASE I humbly beg you to forgive my sins.  Please do not let them come upon my own children.  I have tried in the deepest depths of my soul to impart upon them Your love, truth, charity and dogmas.  I have failed many times.  Please, I implore You, the Blessed Mother, my patron saints (St. Margaret Mary and St. Monica), and my children's patron saints to intercede on their behalf.

My home and all of my material belongings can vanish but the souls of those whom I hold in my heart are my dearest treasures along with my dear Catholic faith.

Please dear God hear my cry.

Preserve the true faith here on earth and my children's souls into eternity with You.

St. Monica, St. Augustine, all of our children's patron's saints and dear Blessed Mother . . .
Ora pro nobis.

Mercy, my Lord and my God.  Mercy.


Wednesday, August 20, 2014

Common Core Education

After 4 days of this new curriculum, I believe I can safely say. . . . 

It is doing just what they intended it to do.

Tuesday, August 19, 2014




Voice texting. 

Asking a phone to put what comes out of your mouth into a legible sentence is really asking a whole lot!!!

I was communicating with someone via the text messaging thingie on my phone tonight.  Somehow I was able to understand what they were saying but it was nothing like what they wanted to say.

The message that I read was this,  "Looking for a birthday gift for air in the ceiling.  Do you have any suggestions?"

I stared strangely at my phone.  I tried to decipher this strange message.

I found myself looking up.  What would you buy air in the ceiling?  What the heck is air in the ceiling?

Get it an exhaust fan!!!!!

A ceiling fan.  SOMETHING!!!

After a bit of contemplation, I realized they were searching for a present for their daughter, ERIN.

I texted back a reply.

This is what I got back, "Every time I need to be talk to text to pull up the a a roon. Drive me crazy."

Yes, friend.  I agree.  Don't try to speak what you want to text.

My response?

"I let my finger do the talking.  My mouth gets me into too much trouble."

Texting.  Technology.

I missed blogging.  God bless you all.  Life is truly . . . . . well, my fingers don't seem to have the words.

Sunday, March 30, 2014

A person is a person no matter how small . . . .

Last Thursday, a new little soul was welcomed into Heaven.
Constantine Michael Joseph
Babies have a way of making us all realize what is important.
Our goal and hopefully final destination - HEAVEN
I am delicately sharing this story to help anyone at all who might find themselves or someone they know or love in a similar very difficult position.
This story is not about me but someone I love very dearly.
Wednesday evening I sat in St. Anthony's emergency room.
Tests were ran.
More tests were ran.
At 1:00 Thursday morning, the news came back.
Wow!  I medically understand all of the ramifications of this situation.
The doctor rattled off the options.
1.  Do nothing and let the tube rupture.
2.  Take several heavy doses of a chemotherapy drug and kill the baby
3.  Remove the tube and . . . . all done.
I was sick.  I knew there was no saving the baby but all of it sounded so barbaric.
I immediately thought to myself,  "If it were me I would just let my tube rupture.  I would not willfully ever kill my baby!!"
I looked at this dear person laying there and knew that was not the answer either. 
What to say.  It shamefully crossed my mind,  "A miscarriage would be easier."  But I knew that is just as painful.  When you are pro-life, a life is a life.  The loss of that life is never easy.
Think.  Think.  Think.
If you have never been to St. Anthony's hospital, they have the nicest chapel I have ever seen at a hospital.
I went there to pray.  What to do?  What to say?
I returned to the room.  I told this person that I had nothing good to say or think about the chemotherapy option.  You are just down right killing the baby.
After speaking to the doctor again the very best and most beautiful option was agreed upon.
When the baby was removed from the fallopian tube it would be immediately baptized.
So that is exactly what happened.
I returned exhausted Thursday night.  One of my sons paced well into the night.
I finally asked if he wanted to talk about everything that had happened.  I realized that I had really struggled with this situation morally.  How would I explain this to my son.  I am very pro-life.  Always have been.  Always will be.
I sat down with him.  I prayed deeply that God would give me the words to explain to this boy in a most tender manner.  He had been excited about the baby too and was really hurt and confused.
So big breath.  Those that know me well would know what courage it took to draw a uterus, ovaries and fallopian tubes.  Explain how a baby implants into the uterus in a normal situation and why this was different.
He understood the medical and risks such as I did but questioned the pro-life issue again.
I am glad I am Catholic.
"Well, here is where you must remember that there are two parts of a body - The physical body and the spiritual one - the soul.  As you know the soul is the most important part.  If the baby had been much bigger in the mommy's tummy and there was a life threatening issue, the baby would be delivered early, immediately baptized and then they would do everything they could to save the baby.  This baby's life was in danger.  This baby was about to die too.  What the doctor did was go in and deliver this very tiny baby.  It was immediately baptized. At this time, there are no life saving procedures medically known to save this baby so it did die but the most important part of the baby was saved.  Its soul.  So every thing was done to save the baby.  Spiritually first.  Physically second."
It was the very best and most beautiful outcome for a very difficult situation.
After talking to my sister and a few other people who know people who have had ectopic pregnancies, they stated that they felt that they had aborted their baby.  I can certainly understand why.
So I share my newest pro-life story in the hopes that it can help someone else.
All life should be cherished.  All life should be respected.
It belongs to God.  A soul was created to return to Him.  To know, love and be happy with Him in Heaven forever.
So little Constantine, all of Heaven rejoices a new little saint has joined the ranks.  That makes this story very, very happy.
Deo Gratias.

Tuesday, January 28, 2014

Only a boy would say this! Part 938579357839

Boys are scrambling to catch the bus this morning.

The following conversation ensues:

Oldest boy: Has anyone seen my deodorant?

Youngest boy:  No.  I haven't.

Oldest boy:  Does anyone have any deodorant I can borrow?

Middle boy asking youngest boy:  Don't you have some of that Old Spice kind?

Youngest boy:  NO!!  Mine has a blue lid and is call SPEED STINK.

I don't think he will have to worry about anyone borrowing THAT deodorant!!! 

Monday, January 20, 2014

You look burdened. Can I pray for you?


The power of prayer.  I believe in it.  It is why the devil attacks our desire to pray first.  Weakening our fortress. Taking the wind from our sails.  Diminishing our hope amongst the trials. 

Do not stop praying.  It is your light.  Your line of communication with the Almighty.

The definitions of prayer are:
  1. An earnest request; entreaty;  supplication
  2. A humble entreaty addressed to God;  a request for God
  3. Any spiritual communion with God
  4. Something prayed for or requested, as a petition
There are others but I focus on these.

I have learned the power of prayer from oneself and especially from others.

People would say they would pray for me.  I would think foolishly, "I can pray for these things.  I know I should be praying for my own stuff and why should I burden others with this!!!  They have their own problems to pray about.  I should be able to pray adequately for all the things that I am responsible for and the ones I know about."

Darn pride.

Humility is the cure of this evil curse:  pride.

God thought I needed a lesson in prayer.

He turned off my light last year.  I wandered. 


I knew where I wanted to be but I lost the road.  My map was taken away.

At my darkest moments, my friends would say I am praying for you.  At first I was mad.  Mad that I needed someone else to pray for me and my family.  This is my job.

I remember one dismal day.  I remember hearing my heart imploring God,  "What is to become of my children if I cannot even pray for them or myself through this time?!?!?!?"

He answered my plea.

"My dear child, your friends are praying for you."

I was moved to tears.  I sobbed at my foolish pride.  I then found prayer in my heart again.  I begged God to bless those that were praying for my dear family when I couldn't even do that and to answer their dearest and most intimate prayers also.

Faith, hope and love.  And the greatest of all of these is love.

Charity is love in action.  We can love but without charity our love has no wings.  No force to propel it forward.

The highest form of charity is prayer.

Prayer is love true love in action.

So I am asking for some prayers here and now.  :)  I can do it. 

Please pray for several friends babies, a dear special lady and family that found a perfect house to make a home, for a dear, dear friend whose mother has been diagnosed with pancreatic cancer (St. Joseph, patron of a happy death, we need you!), for my own children who are struggling spiritually right now, for my daughter and her "husband" that they get married within the church very soon, for our priests and seminarians of the Institute (they are all wonderful and have sacrificed so much for us all), for my amazing parents who raised 3 children that are all now still Catholic, for those who are in their final agony, for those who most especially who cannot muster a prayer for themselves at this moment - it is a dark and hard place.

The last one that I ask you to pray about is for those who are unbaptized.  One dear girl in particular who seeks the truth.

I ask anyone who sees this please add your own prayer requests.  I WILL pray for you.  Others will also.

God bless you.

I thank you for your prayers.