Magnifi-not

   Walmart late on a Saturday night is not the setting I'd have expected to have a biblical experience, but there I was when I caught a glimpse of a dear friend down the hair care isle. We saw each other in the same instant and shared the same enthusiasm in our greeting. It was one of those bosom-ey hugs the kind that only real intimate friends can give to each other, heart to heart, a tad too tight and a tad too long. Mary and Elizabeth had one of those. I'm sure they ignored the looks of annoyance on the good people going about their business too and let their delight in seeing each other take precedence in that moment.
  Funny I say intimate friend, we only speak a couple times a year if we're lucky. We don't see each other often, she is a mother of eight and works full-time. We don't have time to devote to our friendship but the cool thing is, we don't really need much more than chance encounters like this to keep us close. We shared with each other what is important in our limited time. We share our support for one another. When Mary and Elizabeth were united, they knew by looking into each other's face, that they had a whole lot to share and ponder. I imagine it went something like this, " Mary, you're not going to believe this..." " Lizzy, dude, I already know!, Girlfrind, some crazy stuff has gone on and we need to talk, get the clay flask and meet me in the garden. Wait, (wink wink) better make that decaf ".  I didn't have months to spend with my friend to pour over life's problems and joys but an hour and a half in the towel section where we relocated for privacy, was all I was granted or needed that night.
   So much was unspoken. It wasn't necessary. We just  allowed ourselves to enjoy a rare moment of understanding  and  connection with another woman living a similiar life. Throughout the conversation we stopped and embraced, once or twice sometimes with tears. We both agreed that God knew we neede to run into each other that night. She had left her house in frustration and headed out to cool off. I was there expending the last drop of energy I had running errands near midnight so that I could collapse the next day. Like Elizabeth and Mary we didn't take a lot of time to explain. We spent our time shoring each other up through friendship and understanging for the work ahead until next time.      
   Thank you God for a woman that understands that I am broke and still at Walmart on a Saturday night because in my middle age, with my kids and husband waiting at home, impulse shopping is all the danger I have energy for these days. Thank You for her because she knows how ridiculous it sounds to be closer to being a grandmother, but still the sagging breasts want to nurse a newborn. Thank You for having another woman who knows that the cleaning products in my shopping cart will do little to improve the way my house looks or smells but knows that it is still important.
   There is safety in speaking about the forbidden subject of faith and challenge and getting tired of trying to fight the good fight. We both agree that at that moment we are close to a spiritual TKO.

I love the  honesty. We don't have to set a good example here. We aren't Mary and Elizabeth by a long shot. Well, she may be a bit closer as her son is preparing for the priesthood while mine is sleeping with his girlfriend. Another embrace. Another condolence.
    She shares with me that she leaves her home early in the morning one day a week to spend time praying before the Blessed Sacrament but usually falls asleep. She's embarrassed about that while I think its absolutely precious and admirable. I love her and I tell her so as we depart to finish our shopping. She asks me to say hello and send her love to my family. I tell her to do the same but let her know that she can withhold my greeting to everyone who pissed her off until she's ready. Maybe I should spent more time in front of the Blessed Sacrament. Not really Mary or Elizabeth but I understand now the joy they must have felt that first moment after all those inexplicable events when they caught a glimpse of each other. Thank you God for this woman in my life and bless her.

The Resentful Sandwich

   Maybe resentful is too strong of a word. I do know that instead of the huge sandwich I just put down, what I really needed was a break, some time just for me. Having a large family leaves little time to meditate or read or even pray quietly. I'm not complaining and to be really honest, I probably swing a little towards the martyr side. I am not getting much sleep these days so even in the quiet of night, I'm caring for a little person. One of my biggest fears is that if I complain about this, I will either turn people off to big family or prove to so many why it is "just crazy!".
   But today I break. I'm tired. There, I said it. I'm beat and I crave a little "me" time. Instead of acknowledging this, I chose guilt and a huge deli sandwich complete with a small bag of chips. As my healthy lifestyle was falling apart in my hands (yet again), I asked myself  the mantra question that every dieter knows by heart, "What is it I'm really craving?" The answer came to me in what I was seeking in the sandwich, a personal experience, something I don't have to share, a simple pleasure all my own.
   Lately, with school back in full swing for everyone, myself included, as well as a newborn in the home, I find little time for things I enjoy. I want to paint my toes, take a nap, sit in the sun. To make matters worse, I have a very annoying neighbor who is a stay-at home dad that is so bored he and his two little ones come over nearly every day and want to play. We don't live similar lives kids aside. When my older kids are at school I am shopping, cleaning, doing laundry, paying bills, filling out forms, making phone calls, setting appointment etc... etc... He is trying to entertain his kids. He walks into my home and lets his kids run through our shed and backyard so instead of mustering the courage to tell him I think it's inappropriate and I'm busy, I get extra mad that there is yet another demand on my time, hence the binge. I find myself avoiding going outside because one little peep and they're over. Even when I want to walk for exercise his kids are headed into my house. ARGHH.
   It's not my neighbor, or the kids, or my school schedule though, It's whether I choose to make myself a priority or not. It's okay to have boundaries, it's okay to get tired and it's okay to blog out my frustrations without a merry sunshine conclusion.
   This is an illustration of my food/resentment connection: So, my four year old wanted to go with me to the deli where I had hoped to privately eat my sandwich far out in the parking lot under a tree. I took her because I felt like I'd be a mean mommy if I said no. Sure enough she was extra chatty and had lots of questions about most everything in the store. No zone out time for me. I bought her a little bag of chips and I parked. As I tried to claim some peace through the flavors of my food, she announced that she was thirsty. I say nothing ( I didn't have a drink in the car). Thirty seconds later, she tells me she has to pee. I inhale, I exhale, I start the car and head home. While we were driving she asked if I was done with my chips. I told her I was and she remarks that I ate them too fast because she still has some in her own bag. I excuse myself by telling her that I ate them too fast because she needs to get home to use the restroom. I'm now upset that I have to walk my coveted sandwich into a house full of kids and noise. Who knows if I'll even get a bite unless I hide and gorge and subsequently feel guilty for not sharing. When we get home my darling daughter sets her bag of chips on the table and heads to the bathroom. As she heads down the hall, she firmly instructs me not to touch her chips. As soon as I hear the bathroom door click shut I take not one but three chips. My claim on my time lost. Ridiculous for sure but an illustration of how food becomes what it is not. It isn't time. It isn't stock or currency that you can exchange for energy or sleep or silence. It's food.

Big Family Not Big Enough

  So when people stop me in stores or at school or church, without knowing me, there are usual reactions about the size of our family that I have noticed over time follow a certain pattern. Usually, the comments start at astonished and end with leaving me feel belittled.
  Most commonly are the opening questions. " Are all these kids yours?!", " You birthed them all?, No steps?", " Are you Catholic or Mormon?" and even get as personal as "What, do you not believe in birth control or what?". Then something amazing happens. I suddenly become the target of defensiveness. People start sharing their views on family size, finances and religion. Confessions are made and reasons for why they only decided on two or three or four are given. I don't ask questions, I don't offer opinions because I don't have any. I listen.
  Once the purging is over the insults begin. I get to hear how their mother is one of eight, how their grandparents where from families of fifteen, twenty, fifty. how basically, I am nothing because I only have nine children and the luxury of a washing machine and microwave. How I will never know the challenges that a real big family experiences.
  This hasn't happened once or even twice. It happens often. I'm not sure at what point folks began to feel free to share their views on my life. It's almost like having all or most of my children with me is an invitation that says, "Hey, I would love to hear your bawdy remarks about my marital sex life, I had no idea kids were expensive, I hope you will embarrass me by insinuating that I am ignorant and uneducated and at the same time try to make me feel insecure about how I can never live up to the saintly women way up in the limbs of  your family tree."
  On the same note, lets get another thing straight, MY FERTILITY IS NOT AN APPROPRIATE TOPIC OF DISCUSSION. It is private. Unless you are my husband, close girlfriend or priest please don't assume that I want to consult with you about it. Yes, I know how babies are made.
  I am proud of my family, I will happily answer your questions about the ages of our children. I will graciously thank you when you tell me I look too young to be a mother of so many even when I know what you are really hinting at. I love my children as individuals and it's okay if you can't wrap your head around it, I don't need to convince you, I need to convince them. Let me assure you of probably the most important message I wish to impart, I don't think I am better than you. I don't assume I have all of the answers and I am not a child rearing expert. I make mistakes and have regrets like every mom. I have never equated family size to holiness. I am on a journey just like you and maybe, if I am found worthy, your grandmother too.