Life With Three

I always said that I needed to have boys first. Growing up with just a sister, we were very much stereotypical girls - we played house and school, and while we spent plenty of time ouside, riding bikes and playing kickball and ghost in the graveyard with our neighbors, we weren’t much for getting dirty.  We didn’t play in the mud, or look for worms or bugs. We didn’t necessarily think that being gross = being funny. 

Before even Michael was born, I said that I needed to have one or two boys first, before having girls, to “break me in” - to initiate me into the world of things that boys find both funny and fun.  And as the boys grow older, and Jacob’s language skills improve and he and Michael become more and more able to carry on conversations and invent games, I am indeed being broken in, in a process that both breaks and renews me.

My mom has joked in the past that being married to my father - “enduring” life with him (she’s kidding, of course) - is what will earn her a front-row seat in heaven (with a recliner, not just an ordinary seat). She and I were talking last fall, when I was still pregnant with Maggie, about my belief that our children are truly gifts from God, and that while I don’t always feel like I’m the best mom out there, I *do* feel that this is the life God has called me to, as mother of three. I believe that through the experience of mothering Michael, Jacob and Maggie, I am constantly being taught humility and patience. 

Since I was in 4th grade and first received the Sacrament of Reconciliation (Confession), my default sin has always been my lack of patience - and while it may be kind of weeny to say the same thing every time, it’s always been true.  I’m not a patient person.  I’m easily frustrated, quick to snap, and not the first to apologize.  Having two boys who love nothing more than to run all day, say ‘eyeballs’ and laugh hysterically every 5 minutes, make lots of noise and go from hugging to hitting and back to hugging in less than 2 minutes…well, that tests daily my patience and my ability to love .

The day that I was talking to my mom, as she was half-jokingly questioning my sanity upon entering life as a mother of three, I told her that my understanding was that God was using my experience of mothering not only to teach me, but to break me of my needs - my need to control, my need to have and do everything my way, my need to put myself first - and then to build me up again as a better, more loving person. I truly believe that learning to roll with the things my boys do, and not just to roll with it, but to see the joy they see, to truly appreciate them for who they are, brings me closer to God. My children, both boys and girl, bring me to God. They will ultimately bring me to heaven - and maybe, just maybe, help me get that front-row recliner seat.

[Speaking of exasperating - not 90 seconds after publishing this post, Jacob came up to me coughing and with red crayon all over his face. "What happened?", I asked. "I not eat the crayon. I just pretending." Clearly, he's not pretending very well.]

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