I love my mom for many reasons. One reason is that we can be laughing one moment and then be delving into some serious stuff without even realizing we made the jump until we’re both thinking aloud about how yes, this is something that could help us lead a more holy life. Which is usually followed by more laughter or a child shouting, “It’s my turn to talk to Gaba!”

We had an early morning conversation today, and it was a lovely way to start my day. We talked about all sorts of things: how people let us down;  how it’s demoralizing when you try to make something new for your family for dinner (and spend a lot of time doing it) and no one likes it (not even the dog); how it’s sometimes tough to determine how to best use our talents that might not really shine in the trenches of motherhood (or if we should use them at all; Mom/Gaba says we should); how my husband always provides a balanced, truthful, and objective assessment of virtually every situation or concern I’m toiling with; how mothers sometimes need an outlet that has little or nothing to do with mothering; how humility isn’t thinking of ourselves as less but thinking of ourselves less often (which I quoted from this excellent funk-fighting post); as well as how excited she is about traveling to see her big sister this coming weekend.

We also talked about something that just might be life-changing for me.

“Mom,” I said happily. “You just gave me something really good to blog about!” And something to try to embrace in my daily living.

Someone might remark that I’m a great mom, and I might say something like, “On a good day, maybe.” Or I”ll crack a joke deflecting the kudos because I’m uncomfortable about the compliment – or because they didn’t see me the day before hopping around, howling, and screeching at my children like a maniac after I pierced my foot on a renegade Lego.

My mom does the same thing. She carries her cross of chronic pain with such grace, and I tell her this much. “No, I don’t,” she’ll say. Or, “I’m no saint.”

None of us is – yet. But why not try to become one and to live a life worthy of all the compliments and glowing appraisals we receive?

My mom’s parish priest, who is also a dear family friend, recently effusively praised her for all the work she does for the myriad ministries she’s involved with at church. She told me that at first she felt like he was just being nice, but later that night she thought that maybe she should just be grateful for his encouragement and simply try to live up the praise.

With all of her surgeries and health problems, she’s been tempted to give up volunteering altogether. Yet, she knows it is good for her to stay involved, to visit others as a homebound minister who were in more pain than she was, and to head up some ministries without feeling like she has to be as hands-on as she once was. Her decision reminded me of a quote someone shared after this homeschooling discernment post of mine that has  helped to change the way I see parenting and homeschooling.

“Anything worth doing is worth doing badly.”
  
–G.K. Chesterton

It’s easy for us to question our ability to be spouses, parents, volunteers, employers, friends, and Christians because we do sometimes do all of these things poorly. But that doesn’t mean they’re not worth the effort time and time again. Likewise, our continued failings don’t mean that people won’t sometimes witness us doing these things well and tell us so. When they do, maybe instead of thinking that they just don’t see our dark side or they’d think differently if they’d been with us when we morphed into a mommy monster and rather than being tempted to start to mentally enumerate all that we do wrong, we ought to simply be grateful that we sometimes do get it right. And sometimes people notice when we do.

We recently hosted a get-together to honor the Blessed Mother during the month of May. A procession of children shuffled over to our simple garden statue of Mary and placed flowers in vases crowded around her. I couldn’t help thinking of how Mary graciously accepts the love offerings of her children with a humble heart. Mary does not need to be showy. But she doesn’t need to think less of herself either. She is unassuming without being self-effacing. She is deserving of the gifts of flowers. She is worthy of roses.

We, too, can lead lives that make us worthy of the roses others hand to us. During our soul-affirming conversation, my mom and I made a pact that from now on when we receive a compliment, we won’t doubt its truth. We will graciously accept it as the grace that it is. Then we will strive to live up to the way others perceive us to be.

We will become the good person they think we are.

This:

I was standing at my kitchen counter when I read the email asking me to consider flying with my toddler to New York for a Time Magazine cover story on attachment parenting. It took about a second to remember how exhausting (and frustrating) it was when The New York Times scrutinized our family for a piece on homeschooling. It wasn’t terrible, but it was intrusive and in the end, I didn’t feel like our message was conveyed well at all. In the next second, I thought of my nursling. Clearly, she’s an “older toddler.” She and I talk about nursing. And her nursing is limited to bedtime, in the dark and quiet of her bed. It’s her snuggle time. It’s our snuggle time. It was inconceivable for me to imagine nursing and posing. How would I even begin to explain that to her? This isn’t photo op. It’s a real life relationship. A relationship I would not exploit for anything in the world. Anything.

I declined.

My reasons for declining weren’t as noble. But God sheltered my child and me, didn’t He? He sheltered other mamas I know, too. I realize now that I was being overly idealistic but when I knew I had a scheduling conflict, Time asked me if I knew any other moms who might be available and interested. So I immediately I forwarded the request from Time to a few Catholic moms I knew who I thought had a similar parenting style as I do, dear Elizabeth being one of them, thinking that this would be an opportunity to portray Catholic motherhood in a positive light. How wrong I was. When the cover came out, I felt guilty for even have forwarded the request to any mom I knew and thinking they could have been duped in to going. (I know one mom I’d passed the information along to whose bags were nearly packed when the trip fell through last minute. Deo gratias.)

Hindsight is always 20-20. I had no inkling that the magazine was going to try to exploit the intimate relationship between a child and her mother. What they wanted, they said, was a mom who could provide a “conceptual illustration of attachment parenting” (their words). The focus was not on breastfeeding although they did want a mom with a toddler. Nothing in the request I received hinted at what was going to end up on the magazine cover.

Still, I see now that I was being overly naive, especially considering the source.

And this:

I recalled a promise I had made to myself, after an extended period of thought and prayer:

In part, I wrote:

I need to start the day (after the prayer and exercise start) with a shower, clothing and lipgloss, and then some quiet time with the Bible. I want my children to find me in that room, with a candle lit and the Bible on my lap when they first wake up. I don’t want them to find me staring into my laptop.

I need to refrain from internet drama, even a little bit.

I’ve made a similar promise to myself and to my family. And I’ve broken it far too many times.

And then this:

I got an iPhone a few weeks ago. Suddenly, I was connected everywhere I went. I immediately made sure it would not chirp at me everytime I got an email, or someone posted to Facebook, or someone tweeted. The only notifications I left on were phone calls and text messages. Still, I heard the call of social media from anywhere, anytime. The weekend before last, I took my phone to a full day of dance competition. My daughter danced 3 times. We were there twelve hours. Nonstop dance, nonstop music, in an auditorium. I thoroughly drained the fully-charged battery on my iPhone. I was connected! I could post cute things about the day. Chronicle life’s happenings on Instagram. Do something. Read something. Anything. Everything. And at the end of the day, I felt that sick feeling.

Oh, I know that sick feeling all too well. I think I felt it yesterday after I responded to a comment when I promised myself I’d let it go…

This, too:

My best writing takes its time. Says its prayers. I’m not a news chasing vehicle and I’m not about promoting myself while fighting for a cause. And this “cause”? It changed my life forever long before it was a cause at all. Attachment parenting matters to me.

I wish that women of the digital age could have learned this parenting style the way I did.

Me, too, Elizabeth. Me, too.

Oh, and these words rooted in Truth made me weep even further:

Mary White [one of the founding mothers of the La Leche League] told me after Mass how mothering is a beautiful way to live the works of mercy every day, how mothers are especially blessed to extend the mercy of God to others. It was never about being “mom enough,” but about being humble enough. Attachment parenting–and so, extended breastfeeding–is about the least of these.

And the king will say to them in reply, ‘Amen, I say to you, whatever you did for one of these least brothers of mine, you did for me.’

All day, every day, serving the little ones with the mercy of Jesus. That’s attachment parenting at its essence.

Attachment parenting grows up. And that doesn’t mean nursing while standing on a stool. It means that mother and child grow together. It means that when it’s not so simple anymore and all their needs can’t be met by stopping to nurse, we still listen. And listen. And listen. We watch over three hundred dances because somewhere in there, our teenager is in three of them and she cares about the other 297.

If we are at our best, we do it with our full attention.

The face of attachment parenting? It doesn’t reflect a computer screen. We can’t let ourselves care more about the cause than about the children who compelled us to learn about the cause in the first place. We can’t let ourselves be lured to spend our days chasing philosophies online, no matter how noble those philosophies are. We can’t endlessly chase decorating ideas or knitting patterns or news feeds, either.

;

Thank you. I believe this. I encouraged this. And then I was lured in.

Elizabeth is so right. You can’t find the face of attachment parenting on a screen. You can’t depict what extended breastfeeding or rather, the love and bond between a mother and a child can look like. You can only live it.

For today attach yourself to technology just long enough to read the rest of this beautiful reflection and then as Elizabeth reminded me, this is our mission: To go home and love our families. With your full attention. When you do, you will bear authentic witness and change the world.

Happy Mother’s Day!

Yet, that wasn’t what really was getting under my skin. I’ve witnessed the heated debates over the photo, the backlash and anger. I’ve heard people calling the photo child porn and accusing the mom of child abuse. I don’t agree with these harsh statements, but I don’t agree with the photo either (and if I’d been the one to fly to New York City for the shoot, I most definitely would not have agreed to posing in that manner).

I received an email from an attachment parent who said she saw the photo as not being sensational and as being natural. After I read her email, I took a look at the photo again. I could not agree with her. I practice extended breastfeeding. I am very supportive of it and attachment parenting, but there was nothing natural about that posed photo. And the only thing “attached” in it was the boy’s mouth to his mom’s breast. As much as I didn’t want to admit it as a mom who is nursing an older child, there was something twisted and sexual about it.

Later I was nursing my sweet 3-year-old, and I felt warm and cuddly. She gently brushed my cheek with her little, dimpled hand and said, “I ‘wuv’ you, Mommy.” And – ah-ha! – it struck me that what bothered me wasn’t what the photo showed but what it didn’t.

I have seen my share of photos of older children nursing in other countries where there’s a lot more of the mother’s breast exposed (like the whole thing – nipple and all – because both breasts are clear to the eye since she’s topless); yet, these photos evoke beauty, peace, and maternity. But this photo does nothing of the sort.

The Time photo shows defiance. It shows a flash of breast. What it doesn’t show is any inkling of serenity or maternity or love.

An anonymous comment over at Faith & Family LIVE! said it best:

“This pic accentuates this woman’s boobs (even if they are not size ‘D’ or anything like that, they’re still highlighted by the pose and clothing); the woman is wearing tight clothes and standing in a defiant pose that does not suggest softness, cuddling, or warmth. My point is that I think this pic was *carefully* designed to pose attachment parenting moms in an unattached way. And attachment parenting without the attachment is… well… what is it? Let’s see, it could be weird… it could be gross… it could be any number of things because the barometer of love between mother and child which guides the mom in her choices and style is broken without attachment. So, would or could it then dip in to some gross sexualized situation? Why not! Basically, this pic turns attachment parenting on its head and debases it. This pic is the antithesis of attachment parenting. Like porn is the antithesis of what sex is meant to be. And I think that’s why this pic feels a little porn-like, even though we all know its just a nursing mom.”

My friend, Michelle, added,

“Breastfeeding is one of those things that I had very little experience seeing until I myself was a nursing mom. Then I saw it everywhere. Never, never, have I seen a great looking mom wearing tight clothes, hands on hips, pulling her top down so her preschooler could get a drink. There is nothing soft, loving or motherly here. It is a pose of defiance that dares the world to tell her she can live her life any way she durn well pleases. Perhaps there are extended breastfeeding mother like this, but they would be in the minority. For most, breastfeeding is a quiet, comforting time for both mother and child…or a time where the mother says, “Again? I just fed your sister…I need to do the dishes…” followed by a sigh (I’ve seen that one most often!). I generally wean by age 2, because I wanted to, not because my children wanted to. And by the time they were 15-18 months old, I discouraged nursing in public just because of this sort of thing. I have friends who NEVER nurse in public, always bringing bottles of pumped milk around, even to my house where I told her she was crazy to pump to nurse an infant, especially at my pro-breastfeeding home. But she just wasn’t comfortable nursing in front of others because of stigmas fueled by this sort of news coverage.”

I hate it that women feel shame because of media stunts like this. I’ve already received several messages from moms who breastfeed older children who are embarrassed and sad due to this hoopla. Want to know the truth? Something that mainstream media rarely, if ever, portrays? This is what extended breastfeeding really looks like:

There is love. There is warmth. There is quiet. We often live in a “not now” world when it comes to our children because everything else demands our attention now.

“Mommy, can you play with me?”

“Not now, sweetie. I’ve got to make dinner.”

“Mommy, let’s paint!”

“Now now, honey, I’m checking my email.”

Breastfeeding limits the amount of “not nows” my child and I have to share (although I certainly do turn down some of my older child’s requests to nurse. A baby’s needs and wants are one in the same. As our children grow older, the line is more blurred). Nursing forces my hummingbird self to slow down and to take time to cuddle with my child. The attachment is way beyond the physical. It hinges on peace and love. The only thing attached in the Time photo was the boy’s mouth to his mother’s breast. No wonder it made people uncomfortable. What is mothering – and breastfeeding beyond what’s considered the “norm” is about mothering and nurturing a child – without love?

If you have a problem with my version of extended breastfeeding, then I’m sorry, but the problem is more you. You are not comfortable with the idea that breasts are instruments to feed children more than sex toys. You are not comfortable that a child who is beginning to speak for herself and seek independence still needs to be close to her mama sometimes. Or that it might even be good for mama to slow down and to focus on her little one who lives in a world that tries to make her big before she’s ready.

I understand your discomfort. It’s not entirely your fault. There are lots of mixed messages out there and when media portray breastfeeding as Time did, we all get a little uncomfortable.

Aside from shocking people and igniting new mommy wars, what this distorted cover image and its loaded words ultimately did was disenfranchise moms. Thanks to Time, there is one group of moms (those who nurse and especially those who nurse children older than what’s considered “acceptable”) feeling like freaks. They also probably either feel like they have to hide the fact that they are still nursing or are prepared to turn militant about defending their choices. Some may even feel they need to defend that misguided photo (like I was at first, maybe they aren’t even sure why the photo makes them uneasy) because breastfeeding is natural and loving – but not when it’s portrayed the way Time portrayed it. On the other side is different group of moms who don’t nurse and/or practice attachment parenting, and they’re angry at the implication that they are not mom enough because of those big letters on the cover: “Are you mom enough?”

Nobody wins. Shame on Time magazine for making any mom feel unworthy. And right before Mother’s Day, too.

Motherhood is undervalued in our society. We give it plenty of lip service, but we’re constantly trying to define it, box it into a set of principles or rules, objectify it, undermine it, and judge it. At its heart, mothering is about love. And that is what Time magazine purposefully, I believe, completely dismissed when they put that cold and completely detached photo on its cover.

***

The primary purpose of this blog is not to promote breastfeeding or to even defend it. I write to encourage mothers no matter how they choose to feed their child or what season of their mothering life they are in. I also am not trying to be sensational by showing a photo of me nursing my 3-year-old, but I believe we’ve got to put ourselves out there some if want to fight the stereotypes and help to normalize breastfeeding. I’ll get off my soapbox now. Happy Mother’s Day to you all!!!

UPDATE: I feel compelled to add after reading some of the comments and receiving some emails that I was careful to not personally arrack the mom in the photo or to project blame upon her. I’m aware of how it could have possibly been my child and me manipulated into a pose that would sell magazines or even just unaware of all the snapshots being taken. In this post and in all of my discussions about the Time cover, I have referred to the photo and the magazine and its editors as being culpable rather than pointing my finger at the mom. I never said she didn’t love her child or that she was not emotionally attached to him or that she was flippant or arrogant and feeling “mom enough” – only that Time magazine chose a photo that didn’t exactly conjure up maternal love  and portrayed the act of breastfeeding and attachment parenting in a distorted way.

Plus, I’m pretty sure – despite the mixed messages that mainstream media continues to perpetuate – that attached doesn’t mean being attached to Internet debates over the topic or even being so attached to your personal parenting ideology that your kids are hovering in the trembling wake of your heated words and angry emails that you’re firing off more rapidly than the nervous system’s synaptic communications.

The cover (and maybe the articles are more fair, but I doubt it) does just what I recently argued against and sensationalizes extended breastfeeding and is, as a friend of mine described, “a brilliant piece of trash journalism.”

Sure, the cover bothers me. So does the title: “Are you mom enough?” As a Facebook friend pointed out, can we invite women to enter the mommy wars anymore than with a loaded question like that?

What likewise bothers me is that Time magazine approached me under the guise of respecting my own parenting choices as well as those of any fellow moms I know, especially since they’d told me they had read material I’d written on the subject.

If I cast aside my pride, it bothers me, too, that I was too stupid to see any of this coming. (My dad and husband were much more cautious about the whole thing.)

When I write about attachment parenting or extended breastfeeding, I write with charity. I am quick to say I’d rather not parent by the book or by the expert and simply follow my gut and try to parent as my God would have me do. I am wary of parenting labels. I am wary, too, of even attempting to mine out any useful gems in any type of magazine that purposefully sells something in such a provocative package.

I am not being pushed to extremes to nurse a 3-year-old because I feel guilty or pressured or scared or worried that if I wean before my child is ready, I am opening her up to a lifetime of pain. Nor am I trying to guarantee myself a winning ticket in the parenting lottery. I stand by own mom and dad’s wise parenting advice and refuse to take credit for the good knowing then that I’d have to take credit for the bad. Oh, yes, my child is a genius who started reading Tolstoy at age 4 and yes, she picks her nose and eats her boogers for an afternoon snack – neither of which have absolutely anything to do with me or my husband and my highly superior gene pool. (I’m jesting here. My kids don’t read Tolstoy, but I have a caught a little one or two with her finger up her nose.)

Honestly, as I’ve said before, it really just boils down to laziness. Weaning takes time and patience when it’s not child-led. I’m not ready to use up any of limited supplies of those precious resources just yet.

Have I ever fallen into the trap of thinking that if I didn’t form a secure emotional bond with my children or do everything “right” I would ruin them for life? Yes, in fact, I have several times stumbled into that treacherous and anxiety-producing trap (and still sometimes do).

During my eating disorder recovery, a therapist once told me that if I wasn’t obsessive-compulsive about food or my weight, I’d find something else to be that way about. There have been times, I admit, when I’ve gotten all OCD on my parenting. I’m trying to channel my OCD tendencies into something more productive – say, eliminating our wooden floors of crumbs and hairballs.

I actually wrote a whole column about my struggles with letting go in the parenting (not the house cleanliness) department and called my new form of parenting detachment parenting and, of course, some AP folks took the word “detached” the wrong way and saw it as an argument against the attached theory of psychology or that I think we don’t matter at all as parents. I’m not going to get into the whole nature v. nurture debate right now, but, nope, that’s not what I meant.

(Do you ever feel like you’re damned if you do and you’re damned if you don’t? Yeah. Me, too.)

No, I don’t believe I might as well as throw my children to the wolves (although they would have no problem nursing my pups out in the public of the forest) and let them fend for themselves. Nor do I believe I have no power at all to help shape their souls. I have a great responsibility as their mother. It’s my duty every day to give all in the hope that I can love them into loving and being good people.

When I wrote that column, I opened my heart up and talked about a difficult part of my childhood and how I was crazed, obsessive even, early on in my mothering career about not making even one misstep. Do I still struggle with mom guilt? You bet. Most moms do. We love our families. We want to do things right. Guilt is one of our most worn accessories.

Do I find the cover of Time insulting, sensational, ridiculous, ignorant, and a complete misrepresentation of attachment parenting? Uh-huh. Not that some parents don’t embrace attachment parenting – or any parenting ideology for that matter – to make up for a hurtful past, parental guilt, or simply to feel like they have more control over their children’s destinies.

I was really seething when the messages about the issue started flooding my inbox and Facebook wall, but then I realized that I was being a different kind of attached parent and was getting too far attached to the absurd opinions of others. One thing I’ve learned, especially since launching into an online writing life where I talk about my choices and my parenting, my joys and my struggles, is that there’s one thing you should never attach yourself to and that’s the opinions of others.

No, I do not want to raise “detached” children, but I do want to raise children who recognize the fruit of detachment. When we are too attached, to people, their behavior, or things like ridiculous magazine covers, we become anxious, angry, defensive, or hurt, and contentment is elusive.

Want to be (mostly) happy and at peace with your parenting? Then attach yourself, instead, to your husband or a trusted friend if you’re a single mama. Attach yourself to the thoughts of a solid, faithful spiritual director.

Above all, attach yourself to God. Forget the parenting ideologies. Parent out of love and let God be your guide for the kind of love you wish to bring to the heart of your home.

Attach yourself to hope for the future rather than everything you did wrong yesterday. To move forward, forgive. (I slipped up big time last week, and I’m having to really, really work on forgiving myself, but I know it’s absolutely necessary for the sake of my family and for me.)

When you’re angry at media for being unscrupulous, for supplying the mommy wars with some powerful ammo, and making an issue out of something that shouldn’t be an issue at all, take a deep breath, write a post, vent to your husband, write a letter to the editor or the person who originally contacted you, and then let it go.

Let it go….

While you’re at it, thank your wonderful, wise dad for being right yet again. He was the one who told you there was a reason that the photo shoot wasn’t going to work out. He’s never had much respect for Time’s journalistic integrity. (I tend to give everyone the benefit of the doubt.) Yes, Dad, they would have made me look like a freak. They would have tried to make an innocent nursing session look provocative. They would have tried to objectify me, my body, my children, my maternity, to sell a magazine.

Praise God that the friends you suggested to fill in for you were also unable to make it happen.

Attach yourself again, quite literally, to that handsome husband of yours who is so grounded in truth and looks past the rubbish and lets very little get under his skin, and give him a big hug. Thank him for taking you and your baby to the beach to celebrate 10 blissful years together. Thank him for offering to cancel the trip, but be very, very grateful you looked him straight in the eye and told him that being quasi-alone with him was just as much of a once-in-a-lifetime-experience (at this point of your life, anyway) as flying to the Big Apple for a photo shoot for a national glossy.

Nurse your baby. Nurse your 3-year-old who you were kind of thinking might forget about nursing while you were MIA but didn’t. Forget that stupid cover and the articles within its slippery pages that pit moms against each other and make cultural scripts confine (or confuse) certain moms.

Don’t let anyone or any parenting ideology push you to extremes, but do, my beautiful, fellow mamas, let Love itself take you out of your comfort zone. (We are all extreme parents because parenting demands extreme love.)

As Christian mamas, we need not be attached to incendiary magazine covers, misguided opinions, or our own ideologies or guilt. Let us instead try to attach ourselves and our children to Christ.

When everyone starts arguing back and forth about the perfect parenting style (there is no perfect parent unless you God or maybe the Mother of God), let’s remember this, too: Those sweet wounded, willful, wonderful children who sometimes drive you crazy and at other times drive you to love to extreme will grow up and become whom they were created to be in spite of you. You can do everything “right” (whatever the experts are saying is “right” at the moment), or you may feel like you’ve botched up things big time but one day, you’ll take a step back and see that like a young sapling, your child has a bend all of her own. Even in the most fertile soil things do not always grow as they should. And green shoots of life magically appear even in the most rocky and arid land. Dear mamas, don’t be afraid to get dirty, to dig deep into your own heart and into those of your children’s, but don’t be afraid to let go either. Though, as I have, I’m sure you’ll sometimes find that the holding on is – despite what the covers of magazines that victimize, objectify, disenfranchise, and stigmatize moms might have you to believe – is far easier to do.

Today I’m honored to have Stephen Martin share a guest post that’s sure to help recovering perfectionists like myself. Stephen is a speech writer and journalist who blogs at Messy Quest.  His first book The Messy Quest for Meaning: Five Catholic Practices for Finding Your Vocation, was just released by Sorin Books. Be sure to leave a comment after this post to be entered to win a copy of Stephen’s book. The contest will close on May 16th at 8 p.m. EST. Good luck!

My wife and I are trying to sell our house. So our real-estate agent persuaded us to host a luncheon for a group of local realtors.

To me, it looked this way: about 25 real-estate agents will show up, look at our place and tell their clients to buy it. How will 25 people actually fit into a house that can barely contain four? Who knows. But that wasn’t our problem. Neither was the lunch, which was supplied and paid for by our agent.

What’s not to like?

The evening before this event, I learned my wife saw it this way: 25 sophisticated Southern women in expensive SUVs will inspect every square inch of our home and probably gossip about all the little (and hopefully not major) things they find wrong with it. The house needs to look PERFECT. Why in the world did I agree to this?!

“If there was ever a time to apply the 80 percent rule,” I told her, “it’s right now.”

This rule is simple: it rarely makes sense to try getting anything exactly 100 percent right, unless you’re flying an airplane or performing surgery or putting somebody in jail. Otherwise, you’re going to drive yourself crazy. And people won’t even notice the perfection you’ve achieved; they’ll be focused instead on the raving lunatic who authored that perfection.

Most of the time, 80 percent is good enough. That’s the point at which you might still retain your sanity or take a walk or remove something else from your to-do list.  I also realize that’s usually a lot easier for a man to say than a woman.

After our first child was born, for example, my wife handed the responsibility for balancing the check book to me. I gave it 80 percent. When she started doing it herself again a few months later, she discovered an interesting fact: the balance was off by $500. To the positive, I might add.

When it comes down to it, it’s not that we find perfection itself deeply satisfying. Mostly, we’re just worried that we’ll be judged by someone else who spots a flaw. Certainly, that was the case in the classic Biblical story of Mary and Martha.

Mary sits at Jesus’ feet listening to him teach. Martha, meanwhile, scurries around like a maniac trying to be the perfect hostess. And you can’t blame her. If there were ever a time to shoot for perfection, it would be when Jesus visits your house. And yet that’s not what he wants.

“Martha, Martha,” he tells her, “you are worried and upset about many things, but only one thing is needed. Mary has chosen the better part, and it will not be taken away from her.” (Luke 10:38-42)

Or in other words: “Follow the 80 percent rule. You’ve done a great job welcoming me. And now you need to reserve that other 20 percent to just be.  Don’t even try to do something productive with it.”

Can you squeeze out 20 percent of your life to be with yourself or your family or your faith, to focus on whatever it is that sustains you? If that’s too much, how about 10 percent for starters? That time can be created – but only when you starting letting 80 percent be good enough as often as possible.
As for the realtor luncheon, it went quite well. I wasn’t around to badger my wife about just giving the preparations 80 percent. My guess is she probably gave 95. And that’s okay. She’s moving in the right direction.

“A generous man will himself be blessed, for he shares his food with the poor.”

Acts of charity instill goodness in a person, as much as that person brings goodness to others.

Charity is more than just donations; it’s a nature within each person that grows through practice. The more you share with the needy, the greater your motivation to help some more. Through charity, love for your fellow man becomes a way of life. Since the spirit of sharing can only grow over time, it’s a good idea to develop it as soon as possible.

Raise your children to be the best Catholics they can be by giving them a head start on charity. Not only does it help instill other important virtues like service and humility in your kids, it allows them to share these values with each life they touch. You can try these tips our family uses to teach the little ones about charity:

Get Them Involved

One of the best ways to bring out the charitable nature of your kids is to take them along when you do your own charity work. Children learn best from example, so when they see their parents doing good in God’s name, they’ll want to do the same. Taking them along also gives them the chance to see that there are many things they can do to help a lot of people in need.

If you think they’re ready to go beyond just watching mom and dad, get them to participate! They can help prepare food for the hungry folks at shelters, or put together care packages to people who need them. Encourage them to give some of their toys to less fortunate kids, and let them see the smiles that brighten the recipients’ faces. When your kids learn that they can bring so much happiness with acts of kindness, they’ll be hooked on the positive feelings.

Share Inspiring Stories

While parents are a child’s most immediate role models, Mom and Dad don’t have to be the only people she can look up to. Tell your kids stories about great people all over the world doing wonderful acts of charity. Enchant them with tales of Mother Teresa’s devotion, or of Bill Gates’ generosity. Show them how big charity can get, and how it can change countless lives for the better. You can also find inspiration in the Good Book.
Show Them What They can be Grateful for

Charity comes from realizing two things: 1) that people need help; and 2) that you can do something to help.  Many people tend to take the first realization for granted, which hampers their ability to learn the second realization.  In many cases, people don’t notice the need for help because they don’t know what they have to be thankful for.

Talk with your kids about how great it is to have food every day, to sleep with a roof over your head, and to be able to go to school. Show them that in many places, children just like them don’t have the opportunity to enjoy these things.

Once your kids learn to be thankful, they learn the value of what they have, and the importance of sharing it with people who don’t. In the end, it’s all about sharing the goodness you enjoy with people who need it. Once you see how much good you have, it becomes a lot easier to bring it to others.

— 1 —

Yesterday afternoon someone from Time magazine contacted me about participating in a “conceptual” photo shoot about attachment parenting. They had read some of my posts on the subject and wanted to see if might be able to fly up to New York City with some of my kiddos (my two youngest probably) for a one to two hour photo shoot. The only problem was they were working under a very tight deadline and needed us this coming Monday or Tuesday. As a homeschooling mama, our days are fairly flexible, but next Monday and Tuesday were out of the question for reasons I’m not at liberty to disclose just yet. (It really is a very good reason, so don’t feel too sorry for me!)

I was so bummed. This just seemed like an incredible opportunity to not only spread awareness about extended breastfeeding, babywearing, etc., but it was just plain cool to think about getting paid to go to the Big Apple (a favorite place of mine) and then having some of my family featured on the pages of a glossy.

It felt like one heck of a missed opportunity, but then I talked to my wise dad and he pointed out that the fact that it was kind of crazy that I couldn’t make it happen when usually our days are fairly fluid probably meant I wasn’t supposed to be a part of the photo shoot. “Maybe they would have portrayed you as a freak or your picture would have turned out really bad.”

Thanks, Dad.

Seriously, he’s probably right about me accepting that it just wasn’t meant to be. (He almost always is about that kind of stuff.)

The contact at Time asked me to forward her request to any other moms I might know who fit the qualifications she’d listed and so I did. I’m hoping someone I know might be able to seize the opportunity.

I also recognize that I may have not been the best fit. Yes, I mostly practice attachment parenting. Yes, I’m a big proponent of many of the principles of this style of parenting, but my parenting style really has simply evolved from the desires to #1 parent out of love or at least to try to and #2 become the kind of mom God calls me to be by using the tools He has blessed me with to mother my children and by tools I mean breasts, my skin, but also my temperament, my talents, and even my weaknesses. I’d rather follow God’s purpose for me than some parenting ideology.

But. Still. Time magazine. It would have been pretty cool.

— 2 —

The theme for this week seems to be missed opportunities. Our elderly neighbor passed away this week. Every time I look over at his empty house, I’m gripped with sadness tinged with a tad of regret. We were good to him. The girls and I frequently baked him treats. We invited him over for dinner a few times, but he was lonely and I could have done more. I hid behind the busy excuse. I got caught up in my spinning world. I could have paused more, visited more, and now he’s gone. If I could consider rearranging my schedule and disrupting the rhythm of my family life for a photo shoot, then certainly I could have cleared my calendar more frequently to just sit and talk with someone who was lonely. His nurse came by after he’d passed away, and I teared up and told her this. “You can’t do that,” she said. “He loved having you as neighbors.”

I think he did. When Thomas was born, he gave us the most meaningful gift. With wet eyes he handed us a gift bag. I pulled out a bowl with a network of cracks in the bottom. The bowl was old. That’s because it was the very same bowl our neighbor, who was approaching 90, used to eat out of. “I was waiting for the perfect baby to give it to,” he said. I took it with trembling hands. How do you thank someone for a gift like that?

I was always worried about the noise we made, but he seemed to enjoy the children’s squeals (and screeches, too). One rainy afternoon the girls were outside jumping in puddles. The next day he told me he loved looking out his window and seeing kids having old-fashioned fun. “Kids don’t jump in puddles anymore,” he said.

We’ll have to keep on making a splash in rain puddles in his honor.

I’m still processing his death. We knew it was imminent, but it’s still been more difficult for me than I imagined. My husband was the last person to see him (besides medical personnel). He had been at the hospice house for a little over a week, and my husband went a few times just to sit with him. On the evening before he passed away, my husband took him pictures the girls had drawn for him. They were in view when he slipped from this world (his nurse told me she saw them when she went to collect his belongings after he’d died).

His body simply lost the war to old age; his heart was weak and he’d been struggling since Christmas. He’d said he wasn’t afraid of dying, but he was afraid of dying alone. I hope he felt the love from afar. I hope he remembered Dave sitting beside him just listening to his ragged breathing, just being there. I hope he saw my girls’ crayon rainbows and knew that he wouldn’t be forgotten.

— 3 —

On a lighter note, my 3-year-old is constantly making me laugh (and crazy) these days. Recently, she announced, “I have a crush on ME!” Ah, wouldn’t it be nice to be so grounded in self-assurance to have crush on yourself?

I just may have a crush on her, too, especially when she’s rocking sunglasses and a tutu.

— 4 —

Thomas remains the happiest, little guy, but everyone is entitled to a bad day.

I assure you he is very well-fed.

— 5 —

So I shared some of the lovely details of Madeline’s First Communion earlier this week. Now for some funny, behind-the-scenes anecdotes.

Father shared a story about a little boy who wet his pants in school and was mortified. Before the rest of the class noticed his soiled pants, one of his classmates tripped and “accidentally” spilled a fish bowl all over the boys pants to hide the fact that he’d wet himself. Father went on to say each of the children were about to be little tabernacles and that they would have many opportunities to reveal God’s love to others – maybe by sticking up for someone or for helping out a classmate.

That night when I was tucking in Madeline, we talked about Father’s story and I mentioned something she had done that day that was kind. Madeline beamed, but then she grew serious.

“Mommy, why was there a fish bowl there?” she asked.

“Well, some classrooms have things like that in them so the children can learn about animals and stuff,” I said.

“It was nice to do that for the little boy, but what about the fish? They were just flapping around thinking, ‘Man, what happened?’”

I chuckled. I believe Father, a Franciscan, would appreciate my daughter’s concern for the hapless fish.

Also, when Madeline was in her room changing from her dress, she told my mom it felt good to have her tights off. “I kept telling my friend they would not stay over my butt.”

“Oh,” my mom said, “What friend?”

“The boy sitting next to me in church.”

I can just imagine the poor boy squirming in his seat having to hear about my daughter’s uncooperative undergarments when he was probably already nervous about making his First Communion.

— 6 —

Since I mentioned attachment parenting above, a dear friend of mine is contributing to a new site that focuses on attachment parenting from the Catholic perspective. (The site is a great source of support and information for parents. Do check it out even if you don’t follow all of the “rules” of AP.)

In my friend’s inaugural post she writes,

Every morning, despite the events or turmoil of the previous day, I greet my children with simple gestures of affection. The form of expression varies from child to child, from one day to the next. The eldest may hear subtle whispers of “good morning” in her ear, while the youngest might be smothered in hugs. My aim is to acknowledge the presence of the individual, genuinely and warmly welcoming each child into the fold. Quite naturally, it allows hearts to soften, opens dialogue, and fosters the hope of a fresh beginning.

I admit I’ve been what we refer to around here as a grumpster on several mornings this week. It’s not entirely my fault. Would you be all smiles if your 3-year-old had gotten into the habit of starting off the day throwing an epic tantrum because you weren’t going to give her mama’s milk right away? It kind of dampens your spirit, especially when she wakes up the baby you just nursed back to sleep. So does trying to revive a limp lump of a 7-year-old who stayed up way too late (again) reading. I never thought I’d have to take away books as a form of punishment, but my oldest continually sneaks in more reading after I’ve told her it’s time to go to bed. She doesn’t need as much sleep as the average kid, but I can tell she’s been tired lately.

Still, I have a responsibility to set the tone in the morning. More hugs. More smiles. As well as some more prayers (and coffee) would probably give us all a better start to our day.

— 7 —

This photo makes me smile. I hope it does the same for you.

Have a wonderful weekend!

Be sure to stop by Jen’s place for more QTs.