"each one of us is a result of a thought of God; each is willed, each is loved and each is necessary."

pope benedict XVI



i have a list of goals that absolutely need to be accomplished before our son is born. at the top of the list is the cleaning of the death trap that is izzy's closet.

before we were married, i spent a weekend moving all of my stuff into ariel's place. at the time, most of it was just shoved into that closet, little did i know, never to be moved. my old desktop, a random collection of kitchen supplies, and all of the clothes that couldn't fit into the closet that we would share. when isabella was born, the mess was compounded with all of her stuff. and it really wasn't until i got pregnant again that my anxiety began to take over; how in the world am i gonna fit all of that junk in there? that's it, i thought, i'm gonna have to get rid of some of it. much easier said than done.

today i finally got through all of the rubbermaid containters. i threw most of it out - my 'shaken not stirred' coasters, phone numbers that have long since changed, endless notepads shaped like animals. right side of the closet, done.

as i started digging through the left side i found a pile of clothes that were always too big that are now too small. old jeans that i spent way too much money on, the suit i was wearing when i met ariel. the sea of clothes slowly began to part, and there they were, stuffed in between a coat and a pillow that always remided me of my best friend: my pink chuck taylors.

i bought them when i was 19 and wore them almost every day until i was 21. rain, sun or snow, didn't matter, i wore them. they had seen me through alot of changes, through multiple short term relationships, and through some amazing music. they went with almost everything in my closet, or so i rationalized. they were my favorite pair of shoes. ever.

but i outgrew them. i out-matured them. but i hung on to them for their nostalgic value. nina and i had drawn on them and written our favorite song lyrics on them, among which were, in true chuck taylor style, dashboard confessional. so kiss me hard, 'cause this will be the last time that i let you . . .

there was a day after we got married that i got them out of the closet, put them on and came downstairs, only to look my spouse right in the eye, immediately turn around and put them right back where they came from. he didn't have to say anything, i knew.

so today, i pulled them out, smiled a bit, and then put them in the bag marked, 'donate', making room for the babies both in the closet and in my heart.

i sure am happy that i saved a couple of the things that were always too big. because two of them fit now!

to date, being a wife and a mother are the two biggest challenges i've ever tried to tackle. when i sat down to write this blog, i started to think of the phrase 'working mother'. it made me think that anyone who works outside of the home could give you a brief description of their job. . . 'i'm a nurse in the icu. i make rounds on the patients every couple of hours and address their needs. it's difficult at times, but it's pretty much the same thing every day.' . . . or 'i'm a janitor at a school, just cleaning up after the kids all day.' but how do you begin to describe what you do as a mother and a wife? when i first started staying home, ariel would come home and ask me what i did all day, and all i could do was stare at him because i couldn't think of one productive thing i had done that day, but i felt as though i had run a hundred miles.

i hate it when women say that they 'just' stay at home. 'i'm just a stay at home mom.' it makes me want to puke. i understand the feeling of wanting to apologize for not being able to contribute financially in a world that is run by money, but i believe firmly that if moms were paid for their jobs, we'd make more money than anyone else in the whole world. because it's not simply having babies and loving my husband . . .

it's sacrificing my own shower so that my husband can take one before we leave.
it's making sure the laundry is done.
it's planning far enough in advance to have the best dinners on the days that he works the hardest.
it's anticipating that the baby is going to cry before she does so that she never has to.
it's dusting and sweeping the floors.
it's cheering for the baby when she does anything at all.
it's reading to her even though she's can't understand it yet.
it's tivo-ing our favorite shows and not watching them until he gets home.

it's just a million little details that describe what i do for a living.

" evolution cannot be a possibility, because mothers still only have two hands " . . .

i went to an evening retreat recently and the priest was talking about how mothers are responsible for the spirituality of our families. he suggested that we form our children in two primary virtues; the male children in temperence, so that they learn self control from an early age, and the female children fortitude, so that when they become wives and mothers they can persist and persevere. i thought it was so interesting and so appropriate. because fortitude is the moral virtue that helps us acquire faith, which is the only thing that gets me through some days!

my babies are precious to me, they and my husband are the greatest joys in my life. nothing else seems to matter anymore . . .