Confession adventures as we approach the Triduum...

Happy Wednesday of Holy Week, everyone. :) Mine is going along swimmingly, how is yours? Well, swimmingly in that I feel very spiritually happy and content, although I did have a bit of a snafu attempting to get to confession late yesterday afternoon. Let us chronicle, no?

#Catholicproblems

I've been wanting to get to confession for AGES, and just kept putting it off. I've talked about my spiritual dryness on this blog of late, and that was a big part of the problem. I didn't feel right about going if I was really forcing myself to go. I didn't feel a true *desire* for the sacrament, you know? Since Palm Sunday, I have been feeling worlds better, and yesterday, for the first time in months, I truly desired to visit the sacrament. The parish affiliated with Henry's school has confession on Tuesday afternoons at 4 pm (I know, random, right?) and thus I made plans to leave work early so that I could go.

I park, head toward the church, and plot a few minutes of prayer in front of the tabernacle before I actually head to the confessional. I step inside the vestibule. Apparently, Holy Week brings out a blitz in the desire to seek confession, because at least a dozen people turned my way. This gave me pause. What were they all doing there?!

*gentle snort*

Usually, you can hear crickets chirping anytime you go to your parish for the weekly scheduled confession slot. At least at my parish. Not this time. I dipped my fingers into the holy water font and headed to a pew to pray, also figuring I could use the time to sort out my approach. Most of the others present were clumped up on one side of the church nearest to the confessional usually put to use by the pastor. I see him approach the confessional, go inside, and turn on the green light. Someone hustles over to get inside and immediately a huge line forms.

Ugh.

I was hoping this was going to be a quick affair, because yesterday night I was scheduled to make chili for dinner. Mike has play rehearsal every evening during the week, and the chili takes about an hour and a half to make. I needed to get it started to assure that we could eat, clean up, and take care of everything that needed doing before he had to leave. I was on a time crunch.

As I'm contemplating my next move, another priest enters the sanctuary. Huzzah! He goes into a confessional on the opposite side of the church, nearer to where I was praying. I feel triumphant. As I stand up, however, several older men from the other line start to zip over to shorten their wait time. And by "zip over" I mean they hobbled with their canes as fast as their legs would carry them. It just felt wrong to rush over and get ahead of them. So I waited until they made their way over toward confessional #2. Another lady slips into line as I walk over.

As I step into line behind her, something happens that has never happened in all of my Catholic years. Someone was in the face-to-face side of the confessional, and hence the red light was on. One of the zipping older men apparently does not notice this and swings open the door to the screened side. The lady ahead of me calls out a warning to him, which he also does not hear. He closes the door and apparently gets comfortable in there. :0

We all stand there, not really knowing what to do. A few moments later, the well-intentioned interloper emerges, clued in by the priest, assumedly. He waits *right outside* the confessional door. The rest of us wait in line awkwardly.

By this point of the action, I'm getting antsy. I'm worried about getting dinner started on time, and there are now 3 people ahead of me, plus the person currently in the confessional. I glance at the other line. They have moved a tad, but the line still snakes like a leviathan. Penitents seem to have multiplied exponentially over on that side of the church. I glance up at the clock. It's now nearly 4:15, and face-to-face guy is apparently having a lengthy and intense conversation with the priest. We haven't moved an inch.

I wait about 5 more minutes, and make the difficult decision to step out of line. Confession just wasn't happening yesterday, as much as I would have liked it to. I hurried home to get the chili going, and we were able to get everyone fed and cleaned up before Mike had to leave, but we didn't exactly have any down time in there. I made the right decision.

When I called that church yesterday to make sure the confession time was the same, the parish secretary told me that they were also offering confession today from 4-6. I have an appointment with the periodontist at 3:30, so I'm hoping to stop on my way home (again :)). Mike is home on Wednesdays and is making dinner for us tonight, so I won't have the time crunch situation. Here's hoping.

Has anyone else gone to confession this Holy Week? Leave me a comment. *beams*

Ash Tuesday? A painful lead up to Lent, in 10 easy steps...

That sounds so much better than "the day before Lent starts," right? At any rate, I am exhausted today due to my children and my job sucking the very life out of me yesterday. Things went down somewhat like this:

(1) I have a work day involving back-to-back morning meetings, a chat reference shift, and then an afternoon meeting at *3:30*. It should be illegal to have meetings that begin at 3:30. I'm barely breathing at that point of the day, especially after having already endured MULTIPLE OTHER MEETINGS.

Total Tangent Alert: I had to laugh a few weeks ago when we received an email from a large faculty organization on campus. Apparently, there were complaints that the committees formed by this organization were "inefficient," and generally "not getting anything done." Their solution? To create a steering committee to discuss this issue at length and then oversee and supervise all of these other committees. SOOOO... People are already on so many committees that they get out of meetings at every opportunity due to a diagnosable condition called Committee Overload (this needs to be classified by the Centers for Disease Control. The symptoms are upset stomach, piercing headache immediately above your left eyeball, a twitchy foot, and paranoia that you may have an undiagnosed case of Attention Deficit Disorder), leading to the committees having a difficult time getting anything done, and the Powers That Be think that to fix this, they should create yet *another* committee?

Welcome to academia.

Anyway, back to my life, for those of you who care and are still reading. :0 Where were we? Oh yeah, my 3:30 meeting. I had to leave early, because Mike teaches on Monday evenings, and I need to be home by 5 pm at the absolute latest so that he can leave. So I do. I have to walk farther than usual to my parked car because the meeting location was moved somewhere even LESS convenient than originally planned. Rushy, rushy.

(2) I drive and pray the rosary. As I go to turn the corner to our house, I am blocked by a "Road Closed!" sign. Something apocalyptic involving a large digging machine and a construction crew appears to be happening two doors down from us. Water main break, perhaps? Not sure, but whatever the reason, I now have to drive around a few more minutes to approach the street from the other end to access the road and get home. I make it by 4:55 pm.

(3) The children are handed over into my care and Mike leaves for class. Everything goes fine. At first.

*doomy music plays*

(4) I make dinner for the children. I warm up leftovers for myself. Henry goes off to play a game for a short spell while Anne colors and I wash dishes. Then Anne announces that she has to go potty. We head to the toilet, and the irony is not lost on me that that is also where my evening went.

(5) Anne uses the potty without my assistance:

"I do it *MYSELF*!"

As she flushes, I tell her to wash her hands.

"No!"

"Anne, everyone has to wash their hands after using the potty."

"NO!"

"Mommy will help you."

"NO NO NO!"

"You cannot watch Dora until you wash your hands."

Wherefore we begin an epic temper tantrum, interspersed with throwing of self on floor, screaming, and general misery for the entire household. AN HOUR LATER, she complies with the hand washing request amidst much sniffling. I let her watch a little tv and contemplate my upcoming drink options.

(6) Anne gets to bed late due to the tantrum situation, but I read her a book and we have a good cuddle session. By the time I shut her bedroom door near 7:30, I'm absolutely exhausted and just want to go to bed. I put on comfortable clothes and prepare to wait for Mike to return. I head downstairs.

(7) Henry pounces.

"Mommy, I'm bored."

I offer a long suffering sigh. This is a *constant refrain* in our house these days.

"Why don't you read?"

"I don't want to."

"How about do a puzzle?"

"I don't want to."

Picture this going on for another two minutes with increasing attitude on Henry's end. He gets whiny and I get annoyed. Finally, he asks if I'll play War with him, and I agree although I really don't want to. All I want to do is read a book on my Kindle and drink my drinky drink.

We play, and he starts out strong, but as this stupid game often does, the tide turns. I see him try to hide a card.

"Hank, you can't cheat, other kids won't want to play with you if you do that. It's called 'being a bad sport,' and it's dishonest. Let's clean the cards up. We can try again tomorrow"

"No!" *look of horror*

Too late. I already have the cards half cleaned up, and I've had enough. This starts the second hour long set of sobbing to be heard at my house in a 2 and a half hour time period.

WHY IS GOD SMITING ME?! What's next? Locusts?

(8) Requests for Henry to get ready for bed are met with belligerence and more crying. He is beyond overtired at this point. My bringing him his nightly asthma medication results in the pill being thrown across the living room. I've about reached my limit on what I can deal with without losing my own temper. I leave him to stew in the living room until Mike returns.

(9) Mike returns and I hear Henry tearfully giving a partial accounting of the story. Mike gives him a talking-to and puts him to bed with the promise that there will be no television watching tomorrow. Henry sobs loudly some more.

(10) I'm so tired I can hardly work up the energy to even read. I eventually have to intervene in Henry's misery, talking to him about the consequences of making choices we regret and moving on. He's a sensitive soul, he doesn't like attention called to himself, he's just like me. He asks me to read him the saint story of the day, and I do. It's St. Katherine Drexel.

I go downstairs and manage to perk up enough to chat with Mike and read a bit. When we head to bed, I read some more but can't sleep well, despite my exhaustion. Which brings us to today.

Lent hasn't even started yet? It seems like it's already been going on forever. :0

Reference desk? What reference desk?

I'm at the end of the second full week of being back to work, and I *just* thought that I was getting the hang of things. The mornings, while still very busy, are less frantic, and I feel mostly caught up back at work. Well. I should have taken it as a sign of things to come when Anne managed to squirt poo right onto the changing table in the 10 seconds it took me to whisk her old diaper off but before I could scoot the new one on.

I arrived at our monthly staff meeting this morning feeling remarkably refreshed given that my sleep was interrupted at least half a dozen times. I had some coffee by my side, and the knowledge that the only things on my calendar today were this meeting plus a chat reference shift that I'd volunteered to cover for someone who is on vacation today. You do those shifts right from your office so they're easy as can be. I contentedly took a sip of coffee. Suddenly:

Colleague: "Tiffany! I see that we're on the reference desk together shortly. We'll have to leave early to make it there in time."

Catholic Librarian: *blank stare*

Colleague: *inquisitive look*

Catholic Librarian: "The reference desk? Are you sure? I don't think I'm on the reference desk today."

Colleague: "I thought I saw your name on with mine for 11."

Catholic Librarian: "Uh oh."

The problem was manifold. For one thing, our meeting was scheduled to go until 11. And I need to pump within 30 minutes or so of 11 am, lest I get painfully engorged. Not only that, but I had *volunteered* for this chat shift that now I was double booked for. So I'd have to find someone to cover for me who was covering for someone else. Oh Lord. I impatiently squirmed throughout the meeting and prayed for my colleague to be losing it and therefore wrong about the reference schedule. Although the sinking sensation in the pit of my stomach told me that more than likely, *I* was the one who was losing it.

It's just that I have set reference hours every week to prevent this very calamity. Monday and Wednesday mornings you'll find my smiling face on the reference desk. Therefore, I can't forget my regular shifts. And I'm anal enough to be pretty careful about being where I'm supposed to be, despite many brain cells being killed off from having 2 small children. Surely, there was some mistake.

However, I was paranoid enough that around 10:30, I slipped out of the meeting early, just in case. I hurried back to my office. I warmed my computer back up and pulled up the reference schedule:

Catholic Librarian: "#&*!@!"

Well there you have it. I was wrong. I *was* inexplicably on the reference schedule for 11 and it was already 10:45. I yanked my pump out and hooked myself up. I had to call yet another colleague to see if he could save my bacon and cover the chat shift for me. He could. I finished pumping right at 11 am, and had to rush downstairs to the desk. Luckily, I remembered to make sure that I wasn't flashing any body parts that I didn't intend prior to leaving my office.

I arrived at the desk all flustered, but I wasn't late. Then I spent 2 hours helping students who were looking for their text books, sigh. But I made it.

I'm just glad that we have a 3 day weekend. Clearly, the lack of sleep is making me loopier than usual.

Days and nights still long, but hanging in there

I've decided not to dwell on the sleep thing, since it's still just so, so hard. I was tired before I even left the house this morning; not a good sign. I just keep praying that it will get better. Because otherwise, I may die. *yawns*

I've gotten a bit of a good morning routine going with both kids, but unfortunately, that will all change come Tuesday when Hank has to be at school by 7:45 am. I'll figure something new out, I suppose. Although the routine was thrown off a tad this morning by Anne's epic poo explosion. It was so bad, that I actually threw her Onesie into the garbage rather than face washing it. That's *really* bad.

Anyway, as a stress reliever, I've been knitting. And buying yarn. Because, I need it. :) For Christmas gifts, you see. And a few things for myself, I admit.

All of the yarn that I ordered from Knit Picks last week is for gifts, save for 2 small hanks of a lace weight yarn for myself. It arrived yesterday, and I was super excited. Henry wanted to open the box, but I put him off. I don't get to savor much these days (meals entail Mike and I briskly eating our food as we await the inevitable unhappy wail coming from Anne's bouncey seat) and I wanted to savor this. Because, you know, it's totally normal to savor yarn.

When the kids were both asleep, I finally got out the scissors and opened the box carefully. 3 gifts yarns, and the lace weight for me. When I saw them on the web site, each asked to come home with me, and how could I say no? It was only charitable to give these yarns a happy home. :) I stroked each lovingly and held them to my cheek. I held them each in my lap for a time. Mike looked at me in amusement from his perch beside me on the couch drinking beer, so I made him touch them too, such that he understood the allure. I'm already envisioning the gifts I'm going to make out of each of them and the intended recipient, and I feel all warm and happy inside. I love knitting.

When I'm up with Anne in the night, I try not to worry about things, since worrying about things in the middle of the night always makes surmountable issues seem catastrophic, no? So, I try to keep my thoughts light. Thus, I think about yarn a lot. What I'd like to make for gifts, and what type of yarn would be best. I mean, I think about yarn A LOT, since I'm up so much these days in the night.

This is what it must be like to be a cat.

Just an awful week

I'll start out on the downer note so that I can build to a cheery ending. This has been a tough week. Work actually hasn't been that bad. I mean, I'm overwhelmed, but it's gotten better. I've managed to get my email inbox down to a non-scary place, and I've been working on compiling copies of some of my work for my tenure dossier (also scary, but I'm not thinking about that right now).

I do feel still a bit "out of sorts" since there were a lot of changes here since I left and I'm not yet acclimated to them. The university switched to a new software system for student records and data, which heavily impacts one of my main job responsibilities. Even after a week, I'm no closer to feeling caught up on that than I was my first day back. I think that will take a month or so, especially given how slowly training is coming down from "on high." Students keep trying to find me, to ask panicky questions, because everyone is panicking about this new system (since nobody knows how to use it), and it's all I can do not to hang a giant sign on my door that says:

QUESTIONS? I DON'T KNOW THE ANSWER.

And I'm a librarian, for heaven's sake. *sighs* It'll get better, but with classes starting Monday, I'm a little worried. But hey, "a little" isn't so bad, right? I can handle a little.

At home, though, things are "a lot." It's my first week back at work, I know I should be easy on myself. That's a major adjustment. But I can't help it. At home, I'm dissolving into tears if somebody looks at me sideways. The reasons are manifold.

For one thing, the baby is really fussy right now. She's teething, plus in the evenings, which is when I see her the most, she's tired. Plus, she has more gastrointestional issues than any baby I've ever seen. She's just always gassy and spitting up and it hasn't eased at all since the day she was born. I can only hope that the introduction of solids within the next few months will help with that.

The next thing is a major one: lack of sleep. Anne hasn't been getting up all that much. Nothing outside of normal, certainly. But this week, when she's up, she's UP. I can't get her to go back to sleep. She's all gassy and miserable. That happened again in the middle of the night last night, and she got up just before 5 again and never went back to sleep. So I've been up since then. Again. That's the third night in a row. I'm beyond exhausted. And when you're exhausted, you're weak. That's just a biological fact. When I'm in that weakened state, I get depressed. That's not good.

And on top of all of this, is Mike's new job. He's gone a lot, and so I'm wrangling the kids both in the mornings and during dinner preparation time. I know, I know, Tiffany STOP worrying so much about making dinner and just sit down and nurse the baby! Something will work out for dinner. But it's hard for me. I want to do everything. I want to be able to sautee an onion without the baby wailing in the background. When she's tired like that, she won't let you put her down. And my carrier is useless for this purpose because it kills my back and I don't want to put it on. I always have her right with me in the kitchen in her bouncey seat, but that's just not making her happy. I can accept giving up some control over dinner, but we do need to eat something, and it can't be tuna fish sandwiches every night. I just don't know what to do. The crock pot is tough too because you have to prepare the food the night before. And the preparation time is what does me in. I could save it for when the kids are in bed, but I'm exhausted by then. I don't know. I guess I'll figure out something.

Anyway, I digressed. We're not really liking Mike's new job. He's gone a lot and the content isn't what he was anticipating. He's miserable. And that's making me miserable. I want him to be happy. He wants to be with us more, and take care of the kids so that we won't have to use childcare, which I want too. But we do need the income. Well, I say we "need"it because our house could use new windows before the winter and my car is nearly 12 years old. But we can live and pay our bills fine without it. I don't know. I seem to be saying that a lot in this post.

I've been praying, so I'm sure things will work out. I know that they will. I'm just feeling a little down this morning.

Therefore, I've been soothing myself with yarn. I love yarn. I'm nearly done with my sweater, and I'm also working on a pair of fall socks for myself. I'll get the camera and post some pictures next week. I have a bunch of projects I completed over the summer. After this, I move on to Christmas gifts and I'm terribly excited. I just placed a Knit Picks order yesterday. I do so love them. I scooped up a couple balls of a brand spanking new yarn that literally debuted yesterday, and some lovely wool, all for gifts. I also, for the first time ever, purchased some lace weight yarn in hopes of knitting a lacy shawl for myself. I'm a little scared, since the pattern is solely a chart and I've never worked with one of those before, but I soldier on. I wanted new challenges, right? Finally, I grabbed a set of 24" cables and a new set of tips for interchangeable circular needles in my beloved Harmony wood. I can't justify buying the full set, so I'm just buying tips and cables as I need them for individual projects. I need this set for the purple and yellow cardigan I'm going to knit for Anne.

So, this cheers me up. I love yarn. Have I mentioned that already? I do...own a lot of it. Yet I always seem to need more. I just love to touch it. There's just something so soothing to me about rubbing your hand and cheek against a soft yarn. And I love creating something beautiful yet useful out of it.

So, I'm just going to try to feel better. My motto all summer has been: "Don't give in to despair." I was worried about post-partum depression, and that never came to fruition. I was worried about our financial situation and Mike finding a job, and something worked out for that. Now, there are new things to fret about, but I need to remember to take myself mentally back to the non-fretting place.

God is in charge. Somehow, we'll get through this.

Long days and nights

This week has really been insane with me going back to work and Mike still very new at his job. And he works a long day at his job, plus he has to commute farther. So I have the kids both in the mornings and immediately after I get home and am trying to get dinner ready. Much crying and chaos ensues.

After our long overnight on Tuesday, I was hoping last night would be better. And it started off that way. Doesn't it always? I swear, just when you think that you've got things figured out with your kids, they change everything. I guess it keeps that parenting thing nice and challenging.

So, Anne was exhausted around 7 pm, like always, so I nursed her and put her to bed in her bassinette. She woke around 1:10 am. Awesome, she slept for 6 hours. That's really good. I happily got up and nursed her. 15 minutes later, she was sound asleep.

Now, 9 times out of 10, I can burp her (or at least try to) and she's all limp and stays sound asleep. But I don't like not trying to burp her because then she's guaranteed to get gas and wake up again 10 minutes later. As I'm sure you're suspecting, this was that magical 10th time.

I put her gently to my shoulder and give her back a pat. Out pops a burb. Shazzam! It usually takes 10 times longer, so I'm thrilled. I cradle her in my arms for transfer to the bassinette...

Wait. What's this? She's WIDE AWAKE. Smiling at me, even. This can't be good.

And it wasn't. There commenced nearly 2 hours of bouncing, patting, re-nursing, burbing, spitting upping, and yet more bouncing. Close to 3, I finally just brought her into our bed, and she did eventually drift off, as did I. Sometime thereafter (it's all a blur) I woke to find that the entire left side of my body ached from being in one position for so long, so I carefully transferred her to the bassinette and she blessedly stayed sleeping. I immediately fell back asleep.

What seemed like 5 minutes later, I hear Mike. I assume it might be close to 6 am and groan. I look at the clock. IT'S 6:30! Being the mature person that I am, I burst into tears. I need to be up by 6:15 to get everything done with the kids in the morning. It was just a long night.

I did make it through the morning. Not well, but I made it. I feel fine now, but that will come back to bite me around 3 pm when I'll be catatonic in my office. Bridget, you may need to come check on me...

Anne's first day at daycare

Yesterday was a tough day, but in the end, it went just fine. I had to pump myself up a bit to drop Anne off at our daycare in the morning, because as you would expect, I was dreading it. I knew she would be fine there, and that we trusted this daycare, but that's still a very tough thing.

I did call to check on her, and heard that she was doing wonderfully, albeit boycotting naps. This is par for the course at home as well, so I knew she was fine. When I went to pick her up, she was being rocked by one of the women in the room and finishing her last bottle. She was totally fine and happy to see me. We went and visited her new cubby to collect her things and headed for home. She'll go again on Thursday.

Today, she and Henry are with my in-laws again. My problem today, though, is that I'm totally exhausted. We had an interesting night. Anne was exhausted (the no nap thing) at 7 pm and went right to sleep. At 11:30 pm, she woke, which usually signals a bad night. But honestly, it's not so bad once I'm working. I'm actually happy to have that time to spend with her and snuggle her. So I nursed her.

I figured we'd be up every 2-3 hours or so, but she didn't wake again until 4:20 am. Wonderful, albeit with unhappily full breasts. Unfortunately, that's when the sleep thing unraveled, as it so often does. Once I put her back in her bassinette, she seemed to wake up. She was quiet, so I left her be, and soon enough, I found out what was going on.

The dreaded squirting sound ensued.

So, we had to change her diaper, and once that happens, we're screwed. She's wide awake. By this time, it's 5 am, and Mike needs to be up by 5:45, so needless to say we didn't get back to sleep after that. Anne, however, slept peacefully in our bed from 5:45 am until 6:30. Alas.

To cheer myself up, I soothed myself at the local yarn shop over lunch. I picked up some skeins of the wonderful Plymouth Dreambaby DK yarn in purple and yellow to make Anne a cardigan for Christmas. It's so magnificently soft, I could pet it all day. In fact, I will. It's sitting conveniently under my desk. I also ferreted out a copy of the fall issue of Interweave Knits, so I'm now happy.

I just hope I can stay awake for the rest of the afternoon.

An overview of my first day

Yesterday was definitely a mix of emotions for me. Overall, it went pretty well. Although it's hard to be away from my kids, I do like my job, and so that certainly helps me to head off to it everyday. And I know that my kids are well cared for and loved in my short absence.

I did feel out of sorts when I first embarked yesterday morning. My kids were with their grandparents yesterday, and they came right to our house, so that part was easy. I did have a hard time saying goodbye to Anne. She's so tiny, and I know that she'll only be this little for a short period of time. It's hard to miss out on any of that.

But off I set, and I put my Catholic podcasts on to soothe me, which I haven't been able to listen to since I left work back in mid-May. I took my usual route and prayed the rosary on my small chaplet while I drove. Since classes haven't started yet, parking was a snap. The journey into my office, however, wasn't quite so smooth.

For one thing, these days I carry more poundage in an excessive number of bags than I even weigh. I've got:

(1) My work bag. Filled with any number of interesting tidbits on a daily basis (Mike is always curious about what is inside this oversized thing) yesterday it contained bulky photo frames for pictures of Anne, a book I've had checked out since December, and new odds and ends for my office.

(2) My breast pump.

(3) My knitting bag, for lunchtime.

(4) My purse. I'm not ashamed to say that it isn't exactly small.

And when I do have to take Anne to daycare, this adds another bag. Sigh.

Anyway, I loaded up and headed in. I wasn't moving with anything resembling speed. Once on on the staff elevator I had to think for a second before selecting my floor, and I had a panicky moment where I wondered if I even still had the keys to my office.

Once inside, I set the bags down, called a friend, and went for coffee. Off to a productive start.

Once back in my office, the main thing I accomplished all day was making a huge mess on my desk as I sorted through mail. I remain afraid of my email inbox.

After work, I headed home. Mike doesn't get home until 5:30, I have about 30-40 minutes without him there to wrangle the kids and get dinner started. Well.

I learned an important lesson. When you have a small baby, and you work full-time, you shouldn't even try to make a dinner that takes longer than switching off the crock pot. Even though the dinner I chose was from a book entitled The Busy Family Cookbook and took 30 minutes total to make, disaster still ensued.

All Anne wanted me to do was sit down and nurse her, and that's all that I wanted to do. Yet I felt compelled, because that's just how I am, to try and have a hot dinner ready for when Mike arrived home. Although an admirable goal, that just doesn't work with a baby. I need to give her my undivided attention when I come home.

So, what ended up happening is that I was running around trying to cook chicken while Anne cried from her bouncey seat and Henry spilled apple juice on the floor. I did nurse Anne, but she clearly was planning to stay latched on and snuggling while I had designs on moving on to dinner. She wasn't too happy when I delatched her.

Once Mike got home, we ate dinner while alternately soothing a fussy Anne and Henry asked questions. Mike cleaned the kitchen while I nursed Anne again. I got my pump unpacked, the parts sanitized, and picked up the house a tad while Mike held Anne. Then I had to read to Hank while he pooed on the potty. Mike gave Anne a bath. I took a shower while Mike entertained both children. By time I got out of the shower, Henry was heading up to bed, and Anne was demanding to be put down. This child is *tired* by 7:15 pm. She does everything but tuck herself in to let you know that she desperately wants to be sleeping in bed. Mike put Hank to bed while I nursed Anne, a towel still perched on my head. I put Anne down and then had to ready everything for daycare this morning. Lots of milk pouring and freezing ensued.

Tangent: I have a freakish milk supply. Anne consumed 9 ozs. of milk yesterday. Want to know how much I pumped at work? *16 ozs*. I think this is why Anne spits up so much when I nurse her. She's being totally overwhelmed by milk. The refrigerator looked like I could open up a dairy. Anyway...

By then, I was totally exhausted. I had nothing planned for dinner today nor had I packed my lunch. But I was all done in. I made a vodka & tonic.

It was absolutely *insane*. I felt overwhelmed, but I know that it'll get better. We'll get into a routine, and it'll get a little easier as Anne gets bigger.

As I went to bed last night, I was dreading the first day at daycare today. And going through this crazy morning and evening thing again. I was also anxious to see how Anne slept. I didn't drink any caffeine yesterday (Cherry Coke Zero, how I miss you...) plus Anne had bottles during the day. My suspicion is that the bottles give her less gas and less spitting up. For the past week, she's gone from sleeping pretty good (up twice per night) to getting up every couple of hours again. She would start off waking at 11 pm or so and then just keep getting up frequently from there. I was in tears Saturday night. So, we put her down last night and hoped for the best. I was almost hoping that the night wouldn't be any different, because that would mean that I could go back to my beloved Coke. :)

Eventually...Hark! I wake up. Anne is fussing, wanting to nurse. I looked at the clock. 12:40 am.

Well, shit.

She slept for over 5 hours. Although she has slept longer in the past (not frequently, but it has happened) this is as good as she's slept in a long time. I don't know. Maybe I'm looking for a source where there really is none. She's a baby. She's going to get up at night.

Does this mean I can have Cherry Coke Zero again?

This morning, I got up earlier and the morning was slightly less chaotic. It was Anne's first day of daycare. Post to detail tomorrow...

Today is my first day back at work

Oh sigh. It's been a crazy week, and I can hardly believe that once again I'm blogging from my desk. I'm not being a slacker, I choose to see it as "multitasking" since I'm also taking my breast pump for it's inaugural work run. Aren't you glad that you know that I'm pumping and typing?

It's kind of loud. I hope my office neighbors can't hear it. Although I can hear all their telephone conversations, so this doesn't bode well for them twice a day at approximately 11 am and 3 pm.

Anyway, I was kind of emotional this morning, as you might expect. Mike has to leave for work at 6:30 am, so I have to field the children by myself as I get ready in the morning. No easy task. I'm lucky that I remembered to both brush my hair and put on pants at the rate I'm actually able to focus on myself with both children around.

Anne peaked in terms of sleep goodness around 8-11 weeks, and since then, it's been a challenge again. I don't know what's up with her. She's teething and she's growing, so who knows. But I've been tired (and cranky) and there are so many changes taking place that my nails are permanently chewed off.

Heard at my house for hours last night:

"I DON'T WANT to go poo!!!NO!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!"

That pretty much sums it up.

But we're hanging in there. The kids are with my in-laws today, so that eased the transition. Tomorrow Anne starts daycare which will immediately set off my waterworks. But she'll only be there on Tuesdays and Thursdays, so it's not too bad.

The weekend was chaos though, since with Mike now working full-time we have to squeeze all the errands in and most of the cleaning. And having 2 kids, while not double the work, is still significantly more work than having 1. On Saturday morning, while attempting to do a large grocery store shop for the entire week, the following predictable things occurred:

(1) Anne began sobbing. I don't know what it is, but she hates the grocery store. This means that one of us has to carry her while still attempting to wheel the cart.

(2) Henry was running up aisles and would not stop talking. Resulting in:

(3) Me not being able to hear myself think. I swear it, if someone asked me my name while at the grocery store, I wouldn't be able to tell them. I'm trying to look at the list, hold Anne, make a decision about which brand to choose, and Henry is asking me questions about roller coasters at the rate of 50 per minute. It happens every time.

So, it's been crazy, but I know we'll get into a routine. The house still isn't as clean as I'd like it, but we did what we could. Trying to get things done during the day with the children is like walking through wet cement. Your rate of productivity is pretty abysmal. This weekend, I tackled the kitchen floor and we did a mountain of laundry. But we didn't get to the bathrooms, which I'm paranoid about since my in-laws are watching the kids at our house. And my mother-in-law is very tidy, so I know that she'll notice. I even could have lived with a wipe down, but that didn't happen either. Granted, my usual standard is above "simply doesn't smell like pee" but desperate times call for desperate measures.

Ok my bottles are full. I'm off. Hopefully, I'll be cheerier tomorrow.

Overwhelmed

Did you ever have something happen in your life that you were hoping for, but suddenly, that brings forth a whole new set of worries and anxieties? That pretty much describes my household for the past 48 hours.

Mike got the job that he interviewed for this week. That's good, right? Yes, but...

They want him to start Monday. This means that next week I'll have both kids by myself plus still do all the errands we had scheduled that need doing before I go back to work the following week (which are significant). More crucially, it means that we have a totally different childcare situation on our hands.

Anne is signed up at our daycare for 2 days per week. We decided to ask my in-laws, who are retired (my parents still work and are unavailable to watch the kids during the week, unfortunately) if they could watch Anne 2 days per week, and maybe pick Henry up from school 2 days per week. We'd try to add an additional daycare day for Anne per week, and sign Henry up for after school care for 3 days.

Well, we were at the daycare this morning. They're full. :( This means that my in-laws are probably going to have to bail us out for an additional day per week until the daycare has an opening for us to add another day. And though I'm happy Anne will be with family more, getting lots of attention, I'm feeling really badly about imposing on them in this way.

It's not like we have much of a choice. My paid time off is totally used up from my maternity leave. Thus, our other options would be for Mike to not take the job, or to scramble to find another daycare that could take her, one which would be totally unfamiliar to us, and I'm just not comfortable with that.

*sighs*

Jobs are hard to come by in our area of the country, and we feel that Mike needs to take this and get some experience. Mike is my in-laws only child, and they've continually told us that they're happy to take the kids as much as we need, but I'm still battling with my feelings of guilt.

And everything is happening all at once. Mike starts work on Monday. I go back to work the next Monday. That next day, Anne starts daycare. And 2 weeks after that, Henry starts at his new Catholic school. That's 4 major changes in 3 weeks.

I'm stressing. Yesterday, I bit all of my nails off. Currently, I feel like crying.

But what can I do? Just hang in there, I suppose. I did pray for God's will, and Mike and I carefully discerned whether or not he should take the position, so we have to just have faith that we're doing the right thing.

:-(

In other news, Anne is now 12 weeks old and getting so big. Yesterday, while I was pumping some gas, I saw her in her rear facing carseat methodically working off one of her socks. She's suddenly aware that these flailing limbs actually belong to *her*. She's very cute.

And I do think she's going through some beginning teething. Whenever she has a dress on, she grabs the hem and shoves it in her mouth. Very ladylike, my daughter.

I'm hoping that dance will de-stress me tonight.

Stay at home mom for the summer

I'm a person that likes to be in control. I'm certain this is no surprise to any of my regular readers. :) And right now, there is a LOT going on in my life that I have little to no control over. It's tough, but I've actually been navigating it better than I have in the past.

Mike finished his last exam about 20 minutes ago (so much relief) so the big unknown remaining on this issue is when he's going to find a full time position. Obviously, we're hoping it won't take too long, but in this economy, we may have a long wait ahead of us. We don't have flexibility to move (makes no sense for us, given both sets of parents now here, plus I'm up for tenure next year) so that makes it even harder.

We're trying to plan for the summer and fall, as well as for things that need doing around our house, and the financial unknown makes many of these things next to impossible right now. We're just trying to hang in there.

Last night over supper, we got to talking about two big issues: one is our hot water heater, which has been on the fritz, frustratingly enough given that it's only 3 years old. The other is Hank's summer activities.

Living on one income, money is always tight, and this hot water heater issue has thrown a wrench into our budget. Homeownership, sigh. Our heater has only a limited warranty, so we tried to get by with Mike swapping in a part the manufacturer surmised would solve the problem. It didn't. Thus, we had to call the plumber, and $200 later we find that to even fix the thing, it would cost about half of what a new heater would cost! AND, we're not totally confident this part will fully do the trick for the long term. We have a bit of a rogue heater, apparently. Either way, it's going to cost at least $400, so this is not good news.

On the heels of that, we finally made the time to determine what to do for Hank this summer. I'm going to be home this summer, obviously, with the new baby, and Henry will be done with school in late June. Mike will also be home, apart from a summer class that he's teaching, and looking for work, of course. I was thinking that maybe Hank would enjoy the summer camp that our daycare offers for school aged children for a day or two per week for a handful of weeks in the summer.

The thing is, I'm not used to being a stay at home mom. I'm certain all stay at home moms will find my worry very odd, since they handle this on a daily basis. :) But when I was home on maternity leave with Hank I found it very difficult to be home. I was very depressed, granted, and I had absolutely *no clue* how hard it was to care for a newborn baby. It was just a tough time in my life. So this time, I'm taking lots of precautions toward keeping up my mental health. I thought that it would help to have a few days here and there where I just had the baby, and Hank would get to play with kids his own age. I figured it would be good for both of us.

As Mike and I looked over the registration form, however, he suddenly said, "You know, I don't think we should send him at all." And in that moment, I knew he was right. For one thing, it's VERY expensive. And we'd have to pre-pay some of it now. Plus, we'd need to buy a town swimming pass for him and several other items on top of the tuition cost. Even for just a day per week, over the course of the entire summer, it would really add up.

Also, we're going to be home, and it just seems like a hassle to finagle all the registration requirements when we could just keep him home and save the money. So, that's what we're going to do.

I'm worried, because, well, that's what I do best. And honestly, I feel a bit pathetic. My great-grandmother raised 15 children; I'll have 2, and I'm all concerned that I won't be able to handle it. :) But I feel really peaceful about it. I have 2 friends, one two houses over and the other around the block, that stay at home with their kids, so I'll have a social support network right near by. And I want to make the time with the kids this summer really special. Maybe I can go to daily Mass, go to the zoo, do all sorts of nice things that we don't have time to do otherwise. I'm getting all frontier woman, plotting how to can tomatoes and make my own Play Doh. I really think it's going to be ok.

As for the fall, that remains to be seen. I'll be coming back to work, and we'll just have to see what happens with Mike finding a job. Somehow, I know that it'll be ok.

Mothers working outside the home...

My last post got me to thinking about this. I won't dwell on it, but since this does not come up all that often in more traditional Catholic circles, I think it bears mentioning since there may be others out there like me. :) I am a Catholic mother who works full-time outside the home.

I would call myself a very devout Catholic, and very orthodox in terms of following Church teaching. Therefore, I know many stay-at-home-moms (heretofore SAHM). The Church does not teach that mothers are obliged to refrain from working outside the home when they have young children, I think that's an important caveat. But all parents are certainly called to sacrifice for their families, and to be the primary educators of their children, so you do see a lot of women who choose to enact this in their lives by being a SAHM.

As we all should, I very much admire women who choose this route. If you are a SAHM, you still work, you just don't get paid for it. And it's a HARD JOB. I didn't really fully realize that until my maternity leave with Hank. I was used to working outside the home, and to be honest, I thrive there. I love being a librarian, and it's fulfilling to me. So suddenly, I don't have my happy job everyday, and I'm home with a baby feeling overwhelmed, underprepared and unappreciated. It was tough. I never realized how difficult it is to not have adult interaction for a large part of your day, how emotionally taxing it is to be taking care of someone else all day who can't talk to you and tell you what they need when they cry.

While incredibly worthwhile, taking care of young children all day is draining in a way I never knew until I tried it myself. This has led me to the conclusion, to be honest, that no job outside the home is as difficult as being a SAHM. Neurosurgeon? Not as hard. I mean it.

There are all sorts of reasons why some women choose not to be a SAHM, me being one of them. Financial reasons are certainly high on the list, if not the top entry. And I always just hope that no one judges me poorly for this. It does not mean that I don't love my children or that I don't sacrifice for them. It's so, so hard to be away from them during the day. That in and of itself is a sacrifice. It does help me at home to be emotionally fulfilled in my job as a librarian, I won't lie about that. However, the main reason I work is because I have (somewhat astronomical) student loans from law school and we need my income. As well, my husband has gone back to school full-time to pursue a field more meaningful to him, which I support 100%, so my income has been imperative the past 3 years.

The thing is, no matter what you choose to do on this issue, there will always be some people that judge you negatively for it. Work outside the home?

"Oh, you have a new baby, how cute. Do you work? Oh, you do. I see. Where does the baby go during the day? Oh. Daycare." *pronounced silence that the recipient can't help but feel conveys disapproval and a heavy, 'you must be an uncaring and bad mother' vibe.

The kick in the stomach comment for this work outside the home mother?

"I don't know why women who work full-time even have children. I mean, someone else is raising them."

OUCH. Anyone is free to disagree with my opinion in this post, but please, never, EVER tell me that someone else is raising my children. I actually find that downright offensive. I work hard to get home as early as I can and spend quality time with my son in the time that I do have with him. Part of the reason I pursued my current position is because I am a state employee with excellent benefits, including tons of paid holidays and vacation/sick time. I never work more than 40 hours per week. My husband and I work together to raise him with the values that we want to instill; no daycare can ever do that for you.

That's the most serious and emotionally-charged paragraph you'll ever read on this blog. Back to the lighter side of the Catholic Librarian...

But are you a SAHM? Right, then your conversation goes as follows:

"Oh, you have a new baby, how cute. Do you work? You don't? Well, what do you do all day? I see. Did you go to college? Ah ha. Oh look, there's a new tray of stuffed mushrooms in that corner of the room, would you excuse me?" *in this instance, the recipient can't help but feel a vibe of, 'you're wasting your life, not to mention your degree, and you must not be capable of having an interesting adult conversation any longer.'* There may also be a comment about the number of children that you have thrown in there for good measure.

It can often feel like you can't win. If you work, you're a neglectful, selfish mother, and if you don't, you're unintelligent, uninteresting, and quite possibly anti-feminist. Do men have it this tough? It seems like women bear the brunt on this one. :)

I think that every husband and wife has to discern privately, in prayer, what will meet the needs of their family on this issue. Contrary to popular belief (I've lost count of how many times I've heard the comment, "I don't know how anybody stays at home anymore; children are so expensive!") it *is* possible to live on one income. We're actually doing it right now. :) And to be frank, it's quite nearly free to add additional children to your family if one parent can stay at home. Even though I have 2 children (for now, at least), I always come to the defense of those that have larger families. That is their choice, and a beautiful thing for those that God calls to it. If you breastfeed and cloth diaper, adding another child is cake. Two working parents will have a tougher time because of the cost of childcare, it's just a fact. So, I always take the Zero Population Growth people head on.

On the other side, families that choose to have both parents work should not be judged as being materialistic and selfish, pursing another salary so that they can have a larger house and dualing SUV's. That's not the case in most instances. It's between them and God.

And for those that do work outside the home, childcare decisions are equally difficult. Sometimes family members can watch the baby, and other times they cannot. Daycare is not the devil. I was never in daycare, so I fretted about it just like everyone else. But we found one filled with kind caregivers that we trust. They are out there. I do tend to be hurt by offhand, "Oh, I'd never put my child in daycare!" comments, but I try to let it go. I know that I'm doing what is best for my family, and oftentimes people are saying things based on a third hand impression, and have never really been inside a single daycare.

In the end, we're all trying to act out our vocation as wives and mothers as best we can. I know that's what I'm trying to do. I'm wondering if I'm going to get comments on this post. :)

My big, big boy...

*sniffle* Hank looks exactly how I feel: sort of shell shocked.

Emotions were running high in our house this morning. We were all up early. Mike went to grab a shower, and I went into Hank's room to get him started on the getting dressed process ("I'll do it *myself*" is a phrase we are hearing a lot these days). Hank was very particular about what he wanted to wear today, and was near to tears when it was suggested that maybe he'd be too warm in a long sleeved shirt. I could tell that he was a bit fragile this morning, so I let him wear his new Scooby Doo shirt. I made the beds while Mike took Hank downstairs to get breakfast going.

Hank was quietly eating Coco Puffs when I got downstairs, and he looked moody. Everything went fine as I finished getting ready and ate my cereal. When it was time to pack everything up to go, emotions clicked into high gear. I showed Hank his lunch box inside his new Toy Story backpack, and the note about his bus to our daycare that he needed to give to his teacher.

"I *know*, Mommy." *scowl*

I wanted a picture of him, seen above, for which he refused to smile. This made *me* emotional, which is not a good way to start off the day. By time we set off for daycare and Hank's before/after school program (since I need to be at work prior to when school starts here, and finish slightly later) we were running a few minutes behind, and I was feeling anxious. It was already after 8 am, and the bus leaves the daycare by 8:30 on an average day; with it being the first day of school, I knew they would leave even earlier.

I arrive at the daycare, and went through what I go through every first day of school every.single.year. Parking lot chaos. Our daycare shares a building with an educational program for children with special needs, and I *always* forget that they run a major staff meeting and training session on the first day of school. I really wish they could plan this differently. The parking lot was stuffed, without a single spot to be had. I wrangle a spot on the street, and hustle Hank inside.

Chaos reigned there as well. Teachers were spilling out into the hallway everywhere, and the cafeteria, the usual site of the before/after school program, had an official looking meeting taking place inside it. Feeling anxious, I hurried Hank to the office, where I paid, and inquired into the school-aged program location. Due to the teacher training thing, the kids had to go upstairs to wait in the pre-k room. We hurried upstairs to find children and parents nestled into every corner. We made our way into the pre-k room, and that's when the clinging began. I'm trying to walk deeper into the room so that we're not in the way of the cubbies while Hank clings to my leg like a baby koala. He does this on most days, mind you, and I know that he's always fine after I leave, he's just a bit shy, but due to my own degree of emotional vulnerability this morning, I could feel myself slipping.

I get Hank in, kiss him lots, and whisper encouraging things about his first day of school. There are some familiar faces in the school-aged crowd, some kids he's gone to daycare with since he started in this center back when he was 2. I get him settled into a chair, and that's when it starts. The tears. I can feel my eyes welling up as I say goodbye to Hank. I kept giving him one last kiss, and then I made myself miserable by looking back at him several times before I left the room. I made it out to my crappy parking spot on the street, got in, and burst into tears. The only other time I have *ever* been this emotional dropping Hank off was the very first day I went back to work after my maternity leave and brought him to daycare. I cried then too. Hard.

I think the Kindergarten drop-off is a common tear jerker for all non-homeschooling moms, whether they work outside the home or not. I took it pretty hard.

I can't wait to see him after school and hear how his day went. I hope that he likes it. I just always want my baby to feel happy and secure. That's what we always want for our kids.

The allure of comfort food, the joy of being a mother, and the dignity of human work...

As I left work yesterday, this furlough threat weighed heavily on my mind. One unpaid day per week is 20% of my salary. That's a crushing blow to our livelihood. We live well within our means, and have been able to manage Mike moving from full-time employment to full-time student quite well, even with a child and a mortgage to pay. But then to dismantle the other full-time salary? That's tough stuff.

Like I said yesterday, I went into crisis mode, which actually isn't a bad thing. I simply become more focused and appreciative of small things. I wasn't panicking, and still aren't, but my heart felt heavy with concern.

Lifting my spirits, though, was my son. I left work early yesterday to attend the Mother's Day Tea at his school, and as expected, it was all too adorable for words. And I also enjoyed socializing with a few of the other mothers. Being an introvert, and this just my first child, parental socializing is new territory for me. The kids are all dropped off and picked up at different times, so you rarely run into another parent. This was a nice opportunity to chat with them, plus the kids sang and we received our crafted Mother's Day gifts. It was one of those moments where you wished you had a dozen children :)

After that, Hank and I stopped off at the store to pick up some milk, and went home to make dinner. Mike was still taking his exam, so Hank and I were on our own for dinner. I was still feeling a bit emotionally burdened, and so I seized the opportunity to have one of those "I just don't care, I'm making whatever the heck I want" kind of dinners, and prepared Spider Man macaroni and cheese for both of us. I did add a side of fresh strawberries to balance things out a bit. With whipped cream :)

Later, when Mike came home (glowing from a successful exam, thank you for your prayers!) and was putting Hank to bed, before I dragged out my craft bag and started obsessively knitting, I pulled out my Bible and catechism. Since my post on this issue last week, I've been doing better with evening devotions, so thanks to my commenters for their great ideas! Per Deltaflute's suggestion, I took the catechism, and browsed the index to see if I could find a section on financial worries. I didn't find that exactly, but I did find a section on work that I thought pertained.

Pope John Paul II actually wrote an encyclical on the dignity of human work, and I wrote an article about it early in my library career. It's quoted at length in this section of the catechism.

P. 2427 Human work proceeds directly from persons created in the image of God and called to prolong the work of creation...Work honors the Creator's gifts and the talents received from him. It can also be redemptive. By enduring the hardship of work in union with Jesus, the carpenter of Nazareth and the one crucified on Calvary, man collaborates in a certain fashion with the Son of God in his redemptive work. He shows himself to be a disciple of Christ by carrying the cross, daily, in the work he is called to accomplish. Work can be a means of sanctification and a way of animating early realities with the Spirit of Christ.

P. 2428 In work, the person exercises and fulfills in part the potential inscribed in his nature...Everyone should be able to draw from work the means of providing for his life and that of his family, and of serving the human community.

I took great comfort in these passages. And of course, they apply to all of us; to those that work outside the home and to those that work inside the home. Whether you're slogging away over a spreadsheet in your office or changing diapers, you're working. And I love how the Church addresses the fact that all of our work is good for our souls.

I was also thinking about the second passage. Even if this furlough comes to pass, we'll find a way to make ends meet and provide for our family. In the end, that's all that matters.

For Bible reading, I figured, as long as I'm doing something, that's a good thing. I don't need to be so Type A about working my way systematically through the entire thing. As long as I stick with it, I can get a really interesting Bible study or something so that I can manage to get through 1 Chronicles at some future point. For the time being, I've started with the first letter to the Corinthians, and I'm loving it. The chapter I read last night discussed Christians being 'fools for Christ' and being perceived as weak and different for their faith. This made me think about what the Church is going through right now. It all tied together for me well last night.

When I arrived at work this morning, I realized that I hadn't pulled out my Living Faith in a few days, so I did so. Yesterday's entry hit the nail right on the head.

"Trouble and Fear

Do not let your hearts be troubled or afraid. John 14:27

Do we actually let our hearts be troubled or afraid? Worry and fear, it seems to me, are a natural consequence of daily life. When my child drove our car out of that driveway alone for the first time, I worried - a lot.

Jesus, I'm sure, knows we have legitimate concerns about our families, our relationships, our jobs. We can call on him during those times of stress and doubt. But I think what he is saying here goes deeper than everyday cares and woes. This is about or salvation. He tells us: Trust in me, believe in me. And if you do, you will not have a troubled heart; you will not be afraid. He will be there for us. He will comfort and protect us. He will give us eternal life.

Dear Jesus, heal my troubled heart and banish my fear."

Being a working mother

We had a tough night with Hank last night. As has been the case since June, one of us had to stay with him in his bedroom for him to fall asleep ("mommy, I *scaored!") About 12:45 this morning, I thought I was dreaming. In the dream, Hank was annoying me by pulling my hair, and I was trying to get him to stop. Then I realized that I was awake, in bed, and Hank was standing by the side of the bed, actually pulling my hair. When I told him to go back to sleep, he demanded to get in our bed. As I always do, I told him he couldn't, because then there wouldn't be enough room for mommy and she would get no sleep. I speak from experience on this one. We have a double bed. Three people cannot comfortably fit in it. Hank looked at me, and then commenced a giant, ugly temper tantrum. By the time we got him back to sleep, it was nearly 2 am. He woke me again at 5:30 am, asking to get into our bed. Another turn down, another pout session, although not nearly so violent this time. By the time 6:45 rolled around, I was exhausted. And I had to get up, get ready, get Hank's stuff ready to go to my parent's house for the day, and then get to the "relaxing" part of the day, which is working full-time at the library.

I love my job, and I feel fulfilled as a working mother. But it's difficult. I often feel like I'm shortchanging one arena of my life, and that's not an enjoyable feeling. I'm *always* tired. And I'm often insecure about whether or not I'm a "good mother" or a "good Catholic" because I work full-time. It's true that I'm at a stronger sense of peace about things than ever before. I'm a hard working mother, that's for certain. Not because I work outside of the home, but because I do the best I can with the situation God gave me. But I still worry that other mothers look down on me because I work. And because my son goes to daycare four days a week. I really, really worry about this. I will grant, I worry about more things than most people. But it's a struggle for me.

I'll just keep doing the best I can. Unsurprisingly, I'll keep worrying, as well.