Joseph

Joseph is 12. His many talents include sleeping in “late” (still awake by 7a), building intricate Lego fortresses (but being unable to make his bed), memorizing historical facts (but not his Catechism), and being Lucy’s favorite person in the universe.

He spends a good deal of his time playing with Lucy. He holds her in a sloppy spaghetti type of way and practices his tap dance moves while singing her songs and coining new phrases for their friendship. “The Little One Step” is the dance move that pleases Lucy best, and so Joseph will hit repeat for the better part of 30 minutes for this loud, stomping routine. While this might feel distressing to type and is all sorts of obnoxious for his other siblings, LUCY ADORES JOSEPH and his ability to get on her level. Babies love repetition and she is, almost 100% of the time, soothed by Joseph’s confidence. I often turn to Joseph when Lucy is dissatisfied with me. So, while he refuses to clean bathrooms because of his aversion to germs (and the agents to rid the bathroom of germs), Joseph will babysit Lucy for the same amount of time, allowing ME to get my work done. This is a lifesaver for me…and our entire family benefits. I have come to rely on him heavily, and he rises to the occasion. When Joseph helps the family with Lucy, I see glimpses of the man he is becoming. He is delightful and gentle, unselfish and attentive. Lucy brings out the best in him, and I am blessed to be able to witness it now, in this space.

                I remember someone once telling me that the greatest gift a parent could ever give a teenager is a baby. A baby never cares if you’re having a bad day, or if your pimples are raging, or if you didn’t get all your algebra questions right. A baby is unconditional love. 

Homeschooling allows me to be front and center, observing and pondering the growth in Joseph. I know what a blessing it is for him to be able to figure the world out in a safe place, surrounded by love. I know what a blessing it is for me to be able to witness these moments. I know how special the ability to homeschool is. I do not take one day of it for granted, challenging as it may be sometimes. I know that these times will not last forever. Someday soon, Joseph will outgrow the learning environment here and will choose to broaden his horizons. I will rejoice for him when that happens, as that is our goal: to raise independent humans. 

But, for right now, I will soak in the joy of having our (sometimes) dependent Joseph with us here. I will look for opportunities to show him love. I will thank God for the blessing of our first-born son and the beauty he brings to our world.

I love you, Joseph. Forever and always. Unconditionally.

Grace

                                                                            

                I am sitting in Matt’s office (our bedroom closet) with the door closed. I am listening to the sounds of FOUR (4!) young boys attempting to get clean in a joint bath in the other room. Matt is “watching” Lucy while she crawls around my bedroom floor, Esther sits on my bed folding laundry, and Sarah is talking to Matt about various bits and pieces that fly through her adolescent brain. Every once in a while, I hear Matt holler something extremely helpful out to the male offspring like, “PLEASE, SOMEONE JUST WASH SOMETHING!” There is chaos and crazy. Water splashing and singing and baby babbling and joy. There is also so.much.screaming.

                This is my life now.

And here I hide in a 5x10 cubicle with a glass of wine and a computer. This is my space. My time.

Writing.

I think some would call this “Self-Care”.

I call it “Survival”.

Parenthood is the real deal, man. It is nonstop, no rest, 24 hour, back to back to back (etc.) shifts at the Emergency Room where you are the janitor, tech, nurse, doctor, and administrator…and occasionally the ambulance driver…and always the secretary.

SOMETIMES, the only break you get is for a cold cup of coffee and a bite of whatever questionable leftover is on the counter as you pass by to find a rag to clean up that umpteenth spill of the morning.

SOMETIMES, the only sleep you get is on the floor next to a toddler bed, holding a sticky hand because the most recent book that came into your house was about dinosaurs and now “T-RUX” is an enemy of the dream state.

SOMETIMES, there is drama about friends not liking your kids or speaking in hushed tones behind their backs. Or a teen feeling like “maybe possibly somehow maybe not but I’m probably not imagining it” being left out.

SOMETIMES, the only time you get with your spouse is playing a video game together and eating ice cream with allllll the fixings after the kids are tucked in bed and you wonder how in the world it got to a point where you didn’t even have energy to speak to your lifelong companion.

SOMETIMES, you wake up on Sunday mornings after two hours of sleep because of a teething baby and pray to God that you can make it to Church without sinning. And sometimes you sin. Most times you sin. And when it comes time to take that 3 year old out to the van in clothes that he has stripped off 5 times, in a coat that he hates more than broccoli, in shoes that are the worst he’s ever seen and you’re being mean and rude and bad and he just wants to play playdoh naked…those times are awful.

But then, THEN, then, there are moments of grace. ALWAYS. Not just sometimes. But ALWAYS. And you lean in to the hard because you know that God will provide the grace. Sometimes we see it, sometimes we feel it, sometimes it’s just so hard you can’t even begin to imagine it’s there. But every once in a while, your spouse will love you enough to give you the gift of time alone. And, being off-duty, you can see the grace as clear as day. Without the distractions, you can feel it.

And regardless of what you had in mind to write about earlier, you document this grace because you want to remember it forever.