The Journey of a Mother's Heart

My Friend Wilhemina

Now this is true comic genius...

How very blessed I am to know her!

June Cleaver I Am Not

I was really hoping to avoid the nasty little virus working its way through the blogs these days...you know, that ABCs of Homemaking meme.  I so did not want to go there and definitely did not want to hang the boring, humbling, nitty gritty details of my laundry for all of my blogging world to see.  But apparently that insidious little blogger named Margaret had nothing better to do in all of that Minnesotan snow than to call me by name.  Somehow I just can't bring myself to say no to such a dear friend and faithful commenter (and I fear if I do, I may never be tagged again), so here goes....

(I hope this also qualifies as my contribution to It Is What It Is.  I'm sorry, but you won't be seeing any photos.  I have my limits for humiliation.)

Aprons – Y/N
Well, I've had an old, stained, canvas one for years, but I rarely remember to wear it…until it is too late.  I remember more often ever since I found this cheerful one at the Euro Store.  Honestly, it looks much better on her.  (What wouldn’t?)

Baking – Favorite thing to bake:
I’m with Margaret…did you say bake or eat?  Because I much prefer the latter.  The bakeries are so incredibly wonderful here, offering tantalizing works of edible art for mere euro cents--- it really doesn’t make much sense to bake.  At least that’s how I justify it.  My two oldest girls, however, love to bake anything sweet, and they pretty much do it on their own.  My husband enjoys creating the most beautiful birthday cakes.  As you can see, there’s really no need for me to bother.

I do hope to try baking bread after we return to the US, even if it's just throwing ingredients into a machine.  I will really miss our fresh Belgian bread each day---the baguettes, oh the baguettes.

Clothesline – Y/N?
I’m afraid not.  I do believe I have more of an excuse than Kristen in sunny Orange County...but even in Orange County, I probably wouldn’t either, except for beach towels.

Donuts – Have you ever made them?
I don’t think so.  Surely I would remember, wouldn’t I?  Actually, I think I made them once with my youth group in high school.  Does that count?  I have made my grandmother’s apple fritters, which are sweet dough deep-fried around apple slices and sprinkled with powdered sugar.  Sort of like donuts.  Even better, methinks.

Every day – One homemaking thing you do every day:
Why is everyone saying, “only one?”  Because I can’t think of a single one that I myself do everyday.  Well, I do feed my family everyday, usually cooked food.   And I do move piles from room to room each day.  Oh, and there is always at least one toileting issue to deal with.  I guess I do have more than one homemaking thing that I do everyday.

Freezer – Do you have a separate deep freeze?
No deep freeze, though I think it would be a lovely addition since I do our major commissary shopping only once a month.  We do have an extra refrigerator courtesy of the Army, and that extra freezer space really helps.  Not that I ever fill it with frozen casseroles or anything practical.  More like ice cream and Boboli crusts.

Garbage Disposal – Y/N?
You mean besides my husband?  Actually, my father was a much better one than my husband will ever be.  We do not have a garbage disposal in our sink---perhaps because Belgian plumbing seems to be notoriously rotten and perpetually clogged.  They do collect the compost bin every other week, and I don't really miss having a disposal.

Handbook – What is your favorite homemaking resource?
My wise friends at 4Real.  Of course.  I want you to know that in no way do I hold you responsible for my poor implementation of your simply elegant and efficient ideas, except that you keep me on the computer far too much. 

Ironing – Love it or hate it?
Hate is a very strong word that I try not to use.  Let’s just say that my poor husband is ironing his shirts as I write this.

Junk drawer – Y/N? Where is it?
Maybe this is my problem.  (one of many, that is)  I don’t have a junk drawer, just piles of random junk scattered throughout the house.  Sigh.

Kitchen: Design & Decorating?
We live in a rental house now with ugly tan tile, basic beige cabinets and faux marble counters.  It’s a contemporary, European style that is definitely not mine.  The last kitchen that I was able to design had cherry cabinets, eggplant walls (meaning that they were painted a deep purple, not that they had leftovers splattered all over them), and a mossy green tile floor.  It was rich and warm and I loved it.  Not sure what my next one will look like, but it definitely won't be neutral.  What do you think is better for a kitchen floor---hardwood or tile?

Love – What is your favorite part of homemaking?
Naps.  Oh, and getting a front row seat for all of the funny and smart and creative and loving things my kids do.  They are not perfect, but they are by far the best part of life, along with their daddy.

Mop – Y/N?
Yes, once a week, by my beloved maid, Ania.  Were it not for this hard-working Polish ex-pat, the answer would be…not so much (i.e. only when my poor husband can’t take it anymore and pulls it out himself).

Nylons – Wash by hand or in the washing machine?
I rarely wear nylons, and they seem to snag before ever needing to be washed.  I do wash my tights by hand, but the girls’ usually go in the washer.

Oven – Do you use the window or open the oven to check?
We use the grill.   I guess I should clarify that…my husband uses the grill.  Okay, sometimes he is late from work and then I do use the oven and---horror of Good Housekeeping horrors---I do crack the door to check.   I would use the window if I could see through it.  (Kidding, I'm kidding.)

Pizza – What do you put on yours?
My husband makes the pizzas around here (by now you are wondering if there is anything I do in this home...trust me, he has been wondering that very thought for years), and he puts anything and everything (within reason---no anchovies or fruit) on them.  I love white pizza with fresh tomato and marinated artichoke hearts, but I’ll snarf down the works just as easily.

Quiet – What do you do during the day when you get a quiet moment?
I have six children with the gift of gab. (I had so hoped it would be true that boys are more nonverbal.)  A quiet moment during the day is exactly that…a moment.  Just long enough for me to catch my breath and (almost) unscramble my thoughts.  My quiet moments come during the night, when everyone else is asleep. Lately I spend that time with my friends, soaking up the sisterhood and wisdom at 4Real and visiting them individually at their inspiring blogs.  (Big surprise there.) 

Recipe card box – Y/N?
Yes.   And a folder of random recipes printed off the computer.  And a gallon-size Ziploc bag, overflowing with haphazard scraps of paper and cardboard, some scribbled by my mother’s hand eons ago.
I am going to organize it all…one of these days…no, really, I am.

Style of house –
My husband describes it as a Belgian house that the Brady bunch might have had.   Picture the 70s with a European flair.   It’s a split-level, but not in the American sense---we have six half levels altogether.  No carpeting, all tile and marble.  A 3'x5' brick planter in the entryway and a funky black metal fireplace (that I've grown to love) in the middle of the living/dining room.  Three bathrooms with tubs/showers and sinks and three toilet rooms with toilets and sinks---did I mention how much I love my maid?

Tablecloths and napkins – Y/N?
Cloth napkins everyday, as long as I’ve done the laundry.  (Too many paper ones lately.)  Tablecloths for special occasions and seasons.

Under the kitchen sink – Organized or toxic wasteland?
Somewhat organized.  Not that bad.  Really. (My overly honest daughter might disagree.)

Vacuum – How many times per week?
Twice per week, but not by me.  Once by the maid, once by my daughters.

Wash – How many loads of laundry do you do per week?
Okay, this is one that I do.  (And it only took me to W to find one.)  8-10 loads per week.  I sort and wash by bedroom (theoretically), which makes it easier to put away (theoretically).  I really try to have it all done by Friday, so that I can take the weekend off.  Of course, our electric company just changed its rates so that electricity costs about half as much on the weekends.  I may have to give up my laundry-free Saturdays.  Sigh.

X’s – Do you keep a daily list of things to do that you cross off?
I write lots of lists.  And then I misplace them before I have the chance to cross them off.  The really sad thing is that even when I find the lists weeks (or months) later, I still can’t cross off things because I still haven't done them.  Sigh and smile.

Yard – Y/N? Who does what?
You guessed it, I’m sure.  My husband does the yardwork.

Zzz’s – What is your last homemaking task for the day before going to bed?
Am I supposed to do a homemaking task before going to bed?  Does brushing my teeth count?
Lately, I’ve been falling asleep as I tuck in my babies.  (You are supposed to get under the covers when you tuck in your babies, aren’t you?)  I’m absolutely sure that loving your little ones to sleep is one of the essential tasks in making a good home.  It’s certainly one of the most enjoyable.

********************************************************************

As I read this list over, I realize that it must look like I am a total slacker.  I do admit that I did marry wisely.  Can I be blamed if my husband likes to serve?  In my defense, there are many things I do that weren't on the list...like, um...vacation planning...and, um...gift buying...and, well, I'm sure there must be many other things that I just can't think of right now.  And despite how it sounds, my home is not dirty, just a bit, you might say, cluttered.  Believe me, I would call Robin Puckertucker right now...if I could only find his number.

Just so you know, I do not take the vocation of being a homemaker lightly, and I really am aiming to be more like that Proverbs 31 gal.  It's just not something that comes naturally to me in many ways.  I absolutely love being at home with my kids, but I'm not that great at pulling it all together, primarily due to a lack of organization, self-discipline, and know-how. 

My mother, God love her, was not exactly the best teacher of Homemaking 101.  She was a gentle, easygoing mother of nine whose very phlegmatic nature would often lead her to choose lying down to read a novel over organizing the pantry or taking us to the beach (where she could lie on a blanket to read a novel) over scrubbing the bathroom.  I can't exactly say that I blame her.  More often than I'd like to admit, I follow in her footsteps, although I am more likely to turn on the computer than to open a book.  (I'm working on it.) She did teach me that children were the most important part of life, and I can't imagine there is a homemaking lesson more significant than that.

One final thought...right before I graduated from Notre Dame, my dorm voted me Most Likely to Be a Happy Homemaker.  Probably because they viewed me as too unambitious to have a real career.  I can't think of any career that could ever make me happier.  Now, this is Real.

(If you've read this far, let me applaud you for your endurance and thank you for your faithful readership, let me apologize for allowing this post to grow so long, and let me invite you to reexamine your priorities and your use of time.  Obviously, I have the gift of gab like my dear children, at least when it comes to writing.  Or perhaps it would be more appropriate to label it the gift of blab.)

As for the toss...I had planned to tag Karen, but she just couldn't wait.  Is there anyone left who still wants to play?  Kristina?  Maria?   

Oh, Wonder of Wonders!

Now, I don't intend to become your news source for weather in Brussels, but...

When Charlie and I awoke this morning, we raised the hatches heavy external blinds on the picture window in his bedroom and discovered this...

Surely, I can't call a snow day two days in a row.  Well, maybe after lunch...

Has it moved over to Germany yet, Stephanie?

Loving the Wounded

My friend Helen offers some eloquent thoughts on parenting a child who suffers from Reactive Attachment Disorder.  These words especially touched my heart:

"It truly is a war. Surprisingly, the battlefield resides in the heart of the parent. To win this war, the parent must fight himself, must battle to practice virtue and exercise the epitome of self control. He must remain in the trench dug deep within his heart keeping the Lord company.In this trench, we also have company of the Sorrowful Mother who shows us the way of love in her example and she comforts us in her motherly attention."

My greatest struggle in parenting a child who shows symptoms of RAD has not been with my child, but with myself.  Anger, doubt, unkindness, impatience, despair...I have been there.  Some days, I am still there.  There are moments when all I offer my child is exactly what she does not need, times when I inflict even more hurts onto her already deeply wounded heart.  Overwhelming sorrow always follows...for both of us.

I want so much to be a source of healing in her life at all times.  I have tried and tried and tried to change the sinfulness that keeps me from being so.  It is not enough to say that it is only human to feel and respond this way at times.  I am not called to be only human...I am called to be a saint and a warrior, to be willing to lay down my life for the sake of another, certainly for the sake of my own child.

Helen reminds me so beautifully that I must not fight this battle alone, that I must rely on the power of Christ and the graces that flow from His Mother.  I must unite myself to the King of Kings, immerse myself in His Love and Mercy, and allow Him to fight this war through me.  There is far too much at stake to do otherwise---both her soul and my own, as well as the rest of my family.

For me, Helen's way of looking at RAD has transformed this painful and unwanted struggle into something beautiful and holy, as an opportunity to surrender more deeply and grow ever closer to the One who loves all of us so completely.  This child, this precious child with all of her ugly hurts and unintended imperfections, is absolutely necessary to my salvation.  Before her, I was selfish in ways that I did not even realize and might never have known.  How blessed I am to have her as my daughter. 

May I never take such a gracious blessing for granted.

How Did I Know?

By two o'clock this afternoon, there was hardly a snowflake left.

The couple on the right were modeled after my husband and me...and I think that the more they melted, the more they resembled us.

Let It Snow! Let It Snow! Let It Snow!

Yesterday in the late afternoon, big, wet, white flakes started falling, and loud, joyful, infectious cheers started rising.  Everyone quickly bundled up in the winter wonderland wardrobes they've been saving all season.  Jacinta and Charlie announced that they were going out to build a snowman, but I'm afraid that all anyone could do was catch a few snowflakes in the mouth.  In time though---long after everyone was inside for the night---it did start sticking.  Being Brussels, we knew it wouldn't last long.

Anxious to get outside this morning,  Valya, Nastia, and Mariana began their lessons as soon as Daddy woke them.  The temps are in the mid-30s and climbing, and we could see that the snow was already beginning to melt.  So, after breakfast and a few read-aloud chapters, I called it a snow day.  Math and grammar can wait, but the snow...and their childhoods...won't.

Hoops

What started as a busy day of jumping through hoops ended as a wonderful journey back through time.

Our four oldest girls are playing basketball this year, through our local Army garrison youth program.  Mei Mei is learning basic skills at a clinic on Mondays, while Nastia, Valya, and Elena each play on separate teams with practices and games three times a week.  Scheduling it all can get a little crazy at times, and most every Saturday is shot (pun fully intended) from January through mid-March.  Because I prefer to keep our life as simple as possible with few commitments outside of the home, we've only allowed Elena to play in the past.  But with all of our gloomy Belgian weather this winter, we decided that the three younger girls needed the opportunity for some exercise and fun.  They are loving it.  And Qiu Qiu and Charlie have been mighty fine sports about being dragged from court to court.

Today was the first time that I was able to watch Elena play this season.  Normally, I'm busy taking the younger girls to their games.  But today Nastia didn't play, and Valya's schedule allowed me to be there for Elena.  What a thrill it gave me!  In just two years, she has grown from an awkward girl who knew nothing about the sport into a skillful young woman who's clearly one of the leaders on her team.  What she lacks in raw talent she more than makes up for in determination and hustle.  She works so hard and gives her all.  I'm not exaggerating when I say that watching her filled my heart with such joy and gratitude.  And her coach is a pleasure to observe as well---he's oh so very handsome.

[There was one terrifying moment when Charlie saw an open path and decided he wanted to be with his daddy.  Just as he reached mid-court, a herd of unknowing players charged toward him in a fast break.  I couldn't get out there fast enough.  Whistles screeched, voices yelled, and he got bonked on the head by an opponent's stray arm. (No foul called, I might add.)  He sobbed uncontrollably, "I wanted to see Daddy, I wanted to see Daddy!"  I just hope that he is not scarred from the game for life.]

Following Elena's game, Valya played in a doubleheader (I'm sure I must be mixing athletic terminology here), and that brought more fun to our day.  In some ways, she is where Elena was two years ago, learning the game from scratch and trying to acquire new skills.  But she is a natural athlete, and once she's warmed up, she is not intimidated by the challenge of competition.  She truly enjoys it.  I can't help but think of how much she has changed and grown since that day we boarded an airplane together in Moscow four and a half years ago.

A funny thing happens when I watch my girls on the court, especially Elena.  I go back in time in my mind and find myself a teenager again, eager to run onto the floor to play.  Basketball was the only organized sport that I played, and I reveled in it.  Honestly, I was never very good.  I could out-shoot just about any girl around in a game of horse, and once I won a free throw competition sponsored by the Knights of Columbus (3 out of 10, mind you!), which earned me the title of Free Throw Queen in my family.  [Boy, did my girls make me proud today when they sunk 4 out of 6 foul shots.]   But I would tense up in games and rarely score, and I'm sure I looked painfully stiff on the court. I always preferred practices to games.  Still, I loved being part of the team, having fun with my friends, learning from my coaches.  Such happy memories.

We ended today with our annual pizza party for Elena's team.  Once again, their coach (my husband) had them watch one of his favorite movies,  Hoosiers, with the hopes of inspiring them to greatness both on and off the court.  I'm not sure how much impact the film actually has on the girls, but he and I thoroughly enjoy seeing it every time.  It reminds me so much of my small high school in northeastern Ohio and of the blessings I received growing up in the rural Midwest.

As I lay in bed putting the little ones to sleep, I pondered the reasons for my strong sentimental attachment to this sport.  It all goes back to my father.  He too loved basketball, and he shared that love with us on so many days, both by teaching us essential skills and by watching games on TV.  When I was in third grade, he put up our first hoop on the back patio, and we---my dad, my siblings, and I---shot many a ball through that basket.  Since our backyard sloped down into a lake, a long and narrow lake with a steady current, we also lost many a ball when we missed a rebound and couldn't chase it down the hill fast enough.  I can't remember my father ever complaining about having to buy a new ball.  In each house after that, there was always a hoop and more hours of shooting, both together and alone.  I found it highly therapeutic in working through those turbulent teenage emotions.

In a way, you could say that I owe my life to this game of orange balls and netted hoops, of dribbling, passing, and shooting, of free throws and lay ups.  You see, when my father was in high school, he dedicated himself to the sport, surrendering every hour he could to improving his skills, so much so that he earned an athletic scholarship to John Carroll University.  Without basketball, he would not have had the means to go to college in Cleveland...and he probably would not have met my mother.  Were it not for his many hours of jumping in the garage and shooting baskets in the driveway...I might never have been.

Basketball is merely a game, and like so many other games, it has certainly been taken to outrageous proportions in the professional arena.  In the end, it is just a game, a way to pass the time, and not at all essential to the Real Stuff of life.  And yet, how mightily God can use this simple game in His All-Perfect Plan---to teach a child the values of teamwork and commitment, to bond a father to his children for life, even to bring a husband to his wife, creating a family that will continue into eternity.  Amazing.  Is our God great or what?

It Doesn't Exactly Look Like the Most Comfortable Way to Brush Your Teeth

            

But apparently it is genetic...from his side of the family, of course!

       

And please, do not mind the dirty laundry.  My bathrooms are normally quite spotless, I assure you.

It's So Easy Being Green

I have a few more thoughts to follow my post on our failed adoptions, which received such an unexpected, overwhelming response---I can't thank you enough for your encouragement.  But I've done so much serious writing in the last few posts that I'm taking a little break today, and I'm going to try not to let a multitude of new readers intimidate me.  Ever since my dear friend Kim, the Lady in Red, posted her challenge to find half a dozen things of a color I love in my house, I've been wanting to play along.  Because this was a no-brainer for me.

Trapped in a rental house with both white and off-white walls, floors and cabinets, I've tried to fill my home with as much color as possible.  I love many hues and all things floral.  Burgundy, light yellow, various shades of blue and purple.  Ahhh.  But, as I've read in Baby Kermit's Color Book far too many times, "Of all the colors I have seen...my favorite is the color green."

Not any green.  I'm not that wild about dark forest or bright kelly.  I like a cheerful lime but would never decorate with it outside of a kids' room.  The green I love is that trendy cross between sage, moss, and olive.  I'm not even sure what exactly it is called, but I do seem to love it.  Here...let me show you.

It's in the living room...

                

We've had these sofas for over ten years and just reupholstered them in this pretty green tapestry---very appropriate for Belgium although I bought the fabric off a clearance table at a Hancock's in Ohio.  The colors in the Chinese painting match the fabric so well, and I never intended to put them together.  Providence?

          

and in the kitchen...

Way back in the day, I used to be more of a blue person.  My mother-in-law bought me a lovely set of blue Dansk stoneware, which held up perfectly for years and years...until my girls started doing the dishes.  Then they started disappearing one by one.  You can see a few of the teacups here.  I briefly considered restocking them and opted instead to go for this very basic green stoneware.  So basic that it cost only $7.49 for four place settings.  So basic that when I tripped and broke six bowls in one split second, I swept it up and said, "oh well."  That's my kind of basic.  (I do however fully intend to make a pottery run to Poland before we leave Europe.  I'm just not sure when I'll ever be able to let the kids wash them.)

         

in the bathroom...

What can I really say about a stool and some towels?

         

in the bedroom...

Okay, this photo is more than a little embarrassing.  Exactly how many shirts and sweaters in the same color does one person need anyway?  And this doesn't even show the turtlenecks and t-shirts I have in various shades of this hue.  I think someone once told me that I looked good in this color (since I have green eyes), and I haven't been able to stop buying them since.  That's probably where this whole love affair with green began.  If it looks good on me, it's got to look good on my home, right?  Oh, vanity.

         

and even in the driveway...

Yes, I still get to drive a minivan---it's an eight-passenger with lots of cargo space.  It has faithfully toted our family all over Europe and back.  And we are just one baby away from having to give it up, much to my poor Toyota-loving husband's dismay.

               

But the best display of green by far is.....

          

on my favorite little guy!

Two houses and five kids ago, we renovated a rundown townhouse and installed carpeting and tile in this same mossy shade of green, as well as a few walls in a lighter tone.  I loved it and hope to do the same in the next home we own.  So warm and inviting and peaceful.

Well, what do you think all of this green says about me?   That my heart is full of envy?  That I've got too much mold growing in my brain?   That I've always longed to cut grass but my traditionally-minded husband won't let me?   Alrighty then.  After you've thought about that (for about 2 seconds), mosey on over to the Starry Sky Ranch and see what some of my other friends have to say about color.   I'm late to the party---as usual---but thankful to come all the same.

More Glad Tidings

Six years ago today, exactly two years minus two days before Jacinta's referral came, we received the first unexpected but long-awaited news that we had a child waiting for us in China.  It was every bit as wonderful and terrifying and miraculous as the two moments when I learned that I was carrying a child within my womb.  A precious awakening in my heart that I would not trade for anything.

When we submitted our dossier of paperwork to China, we were told that the wait for a referral would be between six and eight months long.  Six months passed, then eight, then ten, and still no word.  Some friends and family started to wonder if our agency was legitimate.  They were, we assured them, and we trusted them completely.  But we had no experience with international adoption then and didn't realize how often everything can change.  The central agency in China that processes all of their adoptions was backlogged, and no one knew exactly when our referral would arrive.

Elena and I had been out-and-about all day.  When we returned home in the late afternoon, I casually logged onto the computer to check email and to drop in on our agency's egroup, not really expecting to find anything more than some commiseration about how long we had been waiting.  I saw the word REFERRALS! in a topic line, and my heart dropped.  My hands shaking and my legs buckling, I quickly dialed our agency, hoping to reach them before the office closed.  The young woman calmly (calmly?! how exactly could she be calm at a moment like this?!) gave me the brief information they had---a name, a birth date, a location---and told me that someone had already spoken to my husband.

I anxiously waited for him to arrive home from work, and a short while later he walked through the door with a beautiful bouquet of pink roses.  When he saw the glow on my face, he knew I knew...and he was a bit disappointed.  After the agency had called him with the news, he had telephoned home and erased the message they had left on our machine, hoping to make the grand announcement himself in person.   (I don't think he has ever really forgiven egroups for stealing that moment from him.  Or maybe it was all of the moments that the CCM list later stole from me...I can't be sure.)

To be honest, I can't remember exactly what followed after this.  I do know that I was overcome with joy and fear and unbelief.  We laughed and cried and thanked God with all of our hearts.  We called our families to share our overwhelmingly glad tidings.  And we went to bed consumed with the knowledge that we were parents again and that our baby was already waiting for us in a tiny crib on the other side of the world.  The next day we received an envelope containing a few photographs of the precious little stranger who was to become our daughter.  You can read more of what followed here.

Little did I know then just how quickly that little angel would weave her way into my heart and find a place that no one else would ever touch.  Little did I know then just how quickly she would leave her babyhood behind and grow into the most beautiful little girl.  Little did I know then just how much she would transform me as a mother.

Mariana Clare was a very serious and strong-willed baby, who attached almost instantly to me and never let go.  Two years after joining our family, her heart noticeably softened when she became a big sister, as she willingly gave up her role as the baby to become the loving nursemaid of Jacinta and then Charlie.  She has blossomed into a cheerful, gentle soul, very sensitive to the needs of others and always ready to welcome a good cuddle. Her deep-throated giggle is highly contagious, and she fills our days with all the happiness and wonder that a six-year-old can bring.  Of course, she still retains the title of Little Empress in our home and probably always will, which is exactly as it should be.  I am forever grateful to be the mother who walks beside her on this journey.  God is good, oh so good.

Happy Referral Day, My Dearest Little Mei Mei!