Learning from the Little Ones.

It's been a while since my last post, so really, this is just a quick catch up on life with the terrific twosome.

First of all, a Blessed Holy week to You.

It's been an interesting month. Things at Mass are still the same (kids, especially Gareth, hopped up and raring to go), but my attitude is different. I've accepted that I'm going to hear a good portion of the Mass from the church porch, while chasing an energetic little boy. I realise that it's not forever, that the day will come when we can sit through the whole Mass. At the moment, turning up to Mass, staying seated and keeping the kids quiet for as long as I can before making my way to the porch with them, this is how I'm being called to serve. I'm at peace with that. Besides, even when I'm carting a very noisy, and less than pleased child out, I've noticed far more looks of sympathy than tuts of disapproval. God knows my weakness and frailty. He knows that this is a season in life where my focus must be on the Little Things. I am so grateful to be freed from the guilt and anxiety over causing a disturbance, or not being focused enough. God is love. God is Our Father, Abba, our Daddy-God, and well-used to the Shennanigans of His Children.

The twins are doing well, and are real characters. They're getting more into pretend play. Molly does very cute, dainty, pretend sneezes. They both like to 'honk' noses, and wave socks, slippers, and feet under your nose with a look of glee and go 'Bleeugghh!' 'Ack!' Gareth has started chasing me and trying to tickle me, and they were both pretending to feed one of their teddies with a spoon, complete with pretend eating noises. They clap at certain nursery rhymes, splash water over quite an impressive area of the bathroom, play together, laugh together, argue, show kindness to one another, and fight for prime place on mummy's lap before bed. Gareth is going through a very kissy phase, and it's lovely. He'll give me a kiss, and teddy a kiss, and then insist I kiss teddy. It's got to be on his terms though, if I try to steal a kiss while we're playing. he soon expresses his disgust.

It's been a period of learning more and more to trust God and his providence. We had made errors in our mortgage calculations, and so had an unexpected bill to pay to the solicitors. My husband's pay was short this month by a fair amount after an error was made. We found we had to replace the boiler in our old property (we've put this on a credit card, not ideal, but the most managable option). At the same time though, with the change over in utility suppliers, and the end of contracts from the old property, we haven't had a couple of our usual monthly bills. These have matched almost exactly with the amount missing from my husband's wages. God always, somehow, in some way, provides. Still, I'm very glad it's pay day soon. ;)

So, my prayer life is far from perfect, I still get cross and impatient sometimes with my husband, kids, and myself, but I still feel that God is using this time, and these circumstances to mould me, and use me, and teach me valuable lessons. Lessons in trust, humility, patience, and joy.

The simplest, most important lesson of all is sometimes the hardest to learn, that of living as God's imperfect, but trusting, loving child.

Shameful Sunday

Yesterday was not one of my better days. Sometimes, I really suck at this whole Catholic-wife-and-mother thing. I'm insular, impatient, terrible at communicating, etc, etc.

One of our goals for this year, is for my husband to pass his test to drive in the UK. He doesn't think we can afford formal lessons, so I'm the 'instructor'. I'm crap at it. He tells me that all I have to do, is be calm and patient with him, but I don't know how in that situation. He asks why, in the UK, you have to do X, Y, or Z while driving, and I get flustered, because the 'why' doesn't matter. A driving test is an exercise in following the rules, to the satisfaction of an examiner, to pass the test. That's it. But, I will work on being calmer.

So, we arrived at Mass. I was in a foul mood because of our argument about the driving, and because I was anticipating the kids acting up. Usually, because we sit right at the back, the nearest people to us are other parents, at the opposite end of the pew. That suits me. I don't know why, but I hate sitting in close proximity with other people, it makes me very uncomfortable. Of course, yesterday, Mass was busy, and 2 women came and sat beside us. I know that I should be happy when Mass is busy, but I find it hard to balance that knowledge with my own discomfort. I kept trying to move further and further away, until my husband chastised me because he was half way off the pew. He indicated that he needed more room. I moved away from him, towards the other woman, folded my arms across my chest, and snarled 'happy now?' First impression these women got - Bad Wife.

Then as Mass progressed, Gareth got more and more restless and noisy. So Tommy took him out of the stroller, which, of course meant Molly began to protest at the injustice of it all. I didn't want either of them out of the stroller, but knew we couldn't let one out and not the other. My heart was dark, and I was filled with resentment. Once again, I was That Woman who can't keep her kids quiet in Mass. My actions were tense and impatient. I wasn't gentle taking Molly out of the stroller. Once again, my husband admonished me, that the women sitting next to us were looking at me in slight horror, and that I needed to 'get myself together.' Second impression these women got - Terrible Mother.

In the end, I had to go out into the entrance hall with Gareth at the start of the Consecration, and I stayed there until the end of Mass. I was too filled with anger, and shame, to go back in. One of my main goals in life is to get through it with as few people noticing my existence as possible. When you've got 2 noisy, boisterous toddlers, you kind of have to kiss that idea good bye.

So, yesterday wasn't one of my best days. In fact, I've not really been up to the mark for some time. I'm giving myself a quick punch on the thigh in anger at my perceived shortcomings far too often. I call myself a 'useless bitch' multiple times a day, without even realising it. It's became an automatic response to doing anything wrong.

Yesterday was not a day I'm proud of. May god grant me the ability to make amends.