Brothers at Bedtime

When I was pregnant with Henry, I had three prayers for him:

 

  1. That he would live. – Check.
  2. That he would have either the same food allergies as Jacob or none at all. –Still to be determined.
  3. That he would SLEEP. – Dare I say, CHECK?

 

I know that people live with many more people than four in much smaller spaces than a two-bedroom apartment, but until now, I really didn’t know how. (I still don’t know how in a lot of senses, but run with me here.) I spent a whole lot of time during my pregnancy worrying about the logistics of getting two kids to bed at the same time. Turns out, for us, the answer is simple: Do bedtime routine as per normal, then walk out of the room. Done.

 

Jacob slept in our room until he was four months old. When Henry was two months, I felt the time to make the switch had arrived. I felt a little guilty at making it happen sooner with Henry, but then remembered that:

a)    I’m a much better mom when I’m well rested; and

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For a couple weeks we were putting them down separately, which was fine when both John and I were home. It was harder when John had to travel or work late, but even then, it wasn’t impossible to get them both in bed. It just took longer.

 

It was only one night when I was on my own to get both boys in bed and quiet by eight pm, when I was hosting my writers’ group, that I realized the answer could be so simple. Henry has acclimated night and day quickly, thanks to the routine we keep for Jacob. It is only natural that he would understand how bedtime works as well. I can hold Henry through stories, prayers, and songs, nurse a little as needed, and then say a double good night. If it weren’t still Lent, I’d ask for an “Alleluia!”

 

What’s more than the routine, I believe that their sharing a room, knowing that someone else is in there with them, helps both of them to settle down. If we play our cards right, Henry doesn’t really fuss when I put him down, and Jacob hasn’t been up talking or singing nearly as long as he used to. It seems that they are content to be with each other, and that makes me really, really happy.

 

We haven’t sleep trained yet, so it’s yet to be seen how extended early morning crying factors into the equation. But for now, I am blown away by how well this setup has worked out. The relationship between these two brothers is on its way, and what a beautiful path it is thus far.

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I Heart Mondays

Being at home, I love Mondays. The boys are tired from a busy weekend with Dad and always nap well. I am rejuvenated from having two solid days of lots of help from John (even in the midst of his studying for a giant financial exam). There are errands to run and a long to-do list that I won’t worry about totally completing until Friday. Even when I don’t get a lot of it done, I know the rest of the week is still ahead of me. I don’t get stressed out like I do later in the week, and we can generally have a lot more fun because of it.

 
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I love that motherhood has changed my perspective on life in so many ways. Mondays are days of hope, expectation, accomplishment. Who knew that was even possible?

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Year of Faith: Holy Week

Here we are at the start of Holy Week, the last days of Lent in this Year of Faith.

 

I admit before this week started, I was feeling somewhat thwarted in my Lenten efforts. Normally I embrace giving up sweets and stop really missing dessert after the first week or so. This year? Not so much. Even with celebrating a “little Easter” each Sunday and having a single treat, I am very much looking forward to more frequent chocolate consumption after this weekend. Maybe not the wisest move for a nursing mom with a toddler, in a season that hasn’t looked much like spring.

 

Another major Lenten practice for me this year was an attempt to speed up my reading of the Catechism of the Catholic Church. I’d never read it in full before, and started reading it last year at the start of the church’s Year of Faith.

 

John started to read it after I did, but more regularly. I couldn’t stand the idea of getting ahead (there’s something about him that makes others fiercely competitive—just watch him and his siblings compete in Pictionary, bowling, Wii Sports, SAT scores . . .), and doing a little math, discovered that I could finish the whole thing if I doubled my daily page count throughout Lent. This meant about forty minutes of reading every day—pretty much every minute of the chunk of time I have to myself in the middle of the day. And reading theology to boot.

 

It would be a sacrifice, for sure, so I went for it. As the weeks went by, I struggled more and more to keep up. Yes, I wanted to sacrifice time for God, but I had also made other goals for myself in the months of February and March, mostly regarding my novel and being ready to get back to my freelance work in April, goals that I had set months before. In retrospect, I didn’t consider all the aspects of sacrificing this particular space of time and whether it was really the best way to find peace in the season.

 

Eventually, when I did sit down to read, I was counting the pages, trying to plow through, not really getting anything out of it. In the last week or so, I had too many days when I didn’t read at all, and got so far behind that I couldn’t keep up and make the other deadlines I’d set for myself.

 

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First of all, a sacrifice for the sake of sacrifice is not worthwhile. Add in wanting to beat John and finish all 700-plus pages before him, and I wasn’t exactly on a path to spiritual renewal.

 

Secondly, and more importantly, I can only really accept God’s mercy when I can see my weaknesses. The parts of the Catechism I have paid attention to, as well as other blogs and articles on the sacrament of confession I’ve read these last six weeks, have shown me in a very personal, interior way that this is why we say our sins out loud in the confessional. We admit to our faults not to shame ourselves or build up guilt, but to recognize the holes in our hearts, minds, bodies, and souls that God wants to fill with His love.

 

I’ve resumed my reading, but at a slower pace than I started. It feels more manageable without that silly pressure on myself. God doesn’t care when I finish; He cares that I hear His word and live by it to the best of my ability—accepting His help along the way, of course.

 

This quote from a blog post I read yesterday sums it up perfectly:

 

“Lent is a time for slow growth, for honest self-reflection, for deepening our relationship with God. It’s not a time to feel lousy about ourselves for not doing enough.”
-Catholicmom.com

 

Amen! And a blessed Holy Week!

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