If Ever There Were a Day to Write a Post Here...

...Mother's Day would be it.

The perpetual tweet-and-flutter of Twitter keeps drawing me away from my own little blog. I love its brevity and terseness and emphemerality. Quickness and cleverness are assets there in a way they are not on a blog.

but

I feel compelled.

Last week, Zeke made his First Holy Communion. He was surrounded by family and was amid almost 100 other children dressed in suits and white dresses with veils. I even broke out the shapewear [Oh, MY! what did we ever do before Spanx?] and wore the same outfit I wore when he was baptized. It was sublime and joyful. Happy tears filled my eyes. I know his life will never be the same and that is a good thing.

Yesterday, he turned 8 [and made his 2nd Holy Communion!] and I wonder where that almost-decade has gone. In this little time, eight voyages around the sun, much has changed. My man has become a Catholic and I can hardly remember the longing I had when I journeyed toward the altar alone for Communion. Motherhood has filled the nooks-and-crannies of a life and I can hardly remember the longing I had during those years of presumed infertility.

Longings almost forgotten. Ah! That's what this blog is for.

Welcome to the World, Wally!

Just got the tremendous news that Annie's physical therapist, Miss Ashley, and her husband welcomed their first child into the world. Going old school, they waited until he was born to see the wee of he. His name is Walton Lyle, and I'm told he's going to be known as "Wally". This wonderful young couple will make tremendous parents. We're glad that Wally is not an April Fool. Congratulations, Ashley and William!

Multi-Tasking Moms for McCain

What can you tell from this picture? Blackberry in the right hand, baby son in the left. They shop at CostCo [best baby wipes in the world]. So here's the constituency: CostCo Conservatives.

Many more backstage pics on Meghan's blog.

Learning a New Language

With the selection of Sarah Palin as the Republican's vice-presidential nominee, there's a sudden discussion of Down syndrome. I found this message from the National Down Syndrome Society to be very helpful. And I also found this essay, "Welcome to Holland," to be applicable to my life once upon a time. [And, I got Italy mixed up with Switzerland, but the sentiment was the same. I also note that I got the lingo wrong on Down syndrome.]

Mother-Daughter Tea

I bedecked the girls in their new frocks and joined about 75 others at our church's annual Mother/Daughter Tea. The food was good and the girls, who've been practicing a lot on their tea party table from Sippican Cottage, did a great job with pinkies up and few spills. The guest speaker, a lady known as 'The Creature Teacher,' brought sugar gliders, a ball python, a chinchilla and rabbit for the girls. We left as the python was being brought out, not from ophidiophobia, but because Annie was 2 hours past tired and Mary Jo was quite understanding.

I love this little gathering and this is the third time I've taken the girls out for it. Every time it gets better and better.

Six Times the Joy

Here's some good news: the Masche sextuplets [audio/video at link] were delivered into the world yesterday. Mom made it to week 30 of gestation and all the children were delivered weighing over 2 pounds. As of the next day, they were breathing room air. As a mother of multiples who arrived at week 26 and were intibated for days/weeks, I am exceedingly happy to hear this great news. Week 30 and, no doubt, on steroids for lung development, is a great starting line. They may have some vision problems to be concerned with [the optic nerve is fully developed at 32 weeks gestation], but that is so manageable.

Welcome to the world little boys and girls! Congratulations to Mom and Dad Masche.

Kept Woman

I was doing some mind-numbing work today and a thought flitted over the transom of my brain: you are a kept woman. Hmmm. Am I? What's keepin' me?

You're doing a job that is numbing your mind. Why do you?
You drive home to the same little house every night. Why do you?
You wake to the same three little faces every morning. Why do you?
You tell your piddly little stories to the same man every day. Why do you?

Kept: [definition #2e] to have or maintain in an established position or relationship -- "keep a mistress"-- often used with on -- "kept the cook on".

I work my job because it helps pay the bills and it keeps my kids in pediatricians and prostheticians. I live in the same little house because it's sufficient, modest and homey and it's where I keep my stuff. I wake to three sweet faces because I can't keep away. I love my man in big and small ways every day because I made a promise to him and God in front of witnesses and I mean to keep my promise.

My life? I call keepsies!

Mother's Comfort

Last night Dave was so tired, he went to bed shortly after we put the children to bed. He was snoring away [a sound that delights me] when Zeke came out of his room, distraught. Zeke wanted Daddy to clean the water out of his ears [I'm sure there's a story about that, too, but I never quite got it out of him.] Dave has a technique for calming the boy, but alas, I wouldn't let Zeke wake him up. Instead, I offered to snuggle with him like we had done years back.

Instead of singing lullabies to Zeke, I would pray the Catholic rote prayers while rocking him or nursing him. I had no idea he was getting anything from it, but apparently he was. Last night, he said, "Mama, why don't you pray the prayers to put me back to sleep?" And so I wrapped him up in his snuggly blanket, settled into the loveseat and prayed the prayers for my son. It was a moment of sweet closeness, one I imagine the Blessed Mother shared with her beloved Son. Zeke quietly went to sleep and nary a peep was heard from him until this morning. And I was comforted, too, that my role as mother is distinct and useful and necessary to my son.

Art Appreciation

I received a Marian calendar in the mail today and a detail of this painting was featured in December. The artist is a woman. Of course! Take away the hay and halos and this was me during my first days of motherhood. [I'm sure the angels were there, though not visible to me.] The little Lord Jesus, not asleep on the hay; however, Mama Mary, who had just endured an arduous trip via donkey, labor, and unexpected visitors was asleep on the hay.

It was painted in 1893 by Marianne Stokes. It is called "Angels Entertaining the Holy Child."

NICU Journal - September 3, 2003

The highlight of this day is my first chance to hold Mary Jo. It takes some doing, what with working around my incisions and all the life-supporting equipment on Mary Jo. But I get to finally hold Mary Jo and she is comfortable and stable for the 30 minutes that I get. The rest of the time, I'm pumping breast milk for the girls. The lactation consultant, Mary, will become my great coach over the next several months. She tells me to "become friends with the pump" because making milk is the one thing that only I can do for the girls. Every time I begin pumping, I say a prayer to Our Lady of La Leche, "Dear Immaculate Mother, Our Lady of La Leche, please intercede for me that my milk may be abundant, nourishing and sufficient. In Jesus' name I pray. Amen." That prayer was answered with a freezer full of 4 ounce frozen bottles and over 32 ounces per day for the many many weeks before the girls' sucking reflex even came online.

In those days while I was still hospitalized, Dave and I met with social workers who wanted to tell us what we'd qualify for if we needed government aid; researching doctors who wanted the girls to join their clinical studies [we did enroll both girls in two studies]; and lactation consultants. And the greatest of these is lactation consultants.

Michael Medved & Mother's Milk

During his second hour today, Medved was discussing the "lactivists" who staged a "nurse-in" outside ABC studios to protest comments Barbara Walters made on The View. I called in to politely disagree with Michael. Michael, whose wife avidly nursed their three children a total of 9 years, said he supported breastfeeding, but not so much in public, and definitely with much modesty and discretion. I agree that nursing in public should be modestly done. There is a nice line of clothing, Motherwear, that allows for such modesty. I even offered that I wish I could've comfortably nursed in public [I couldn't because I felt really clutzy without my home environs]. However, in this situation, nursing a child on a plane, I told him that I believe the woman did the "least worst" thing given the situation. On an airplane, what was she to do? Go to the lavatory and tie that up for 20 minutes? I suggested that I couldn't believe Barbara was flying coach and that it was possible that she, an adoptive mother, might've been uncomfortable about the whole idea of breastfeeding and not the passing glimpse of her female neighbor's exposed breast. I don't like nursing mamas to get "all activist", but I think there's a cultural disconnect in America when it comes to breastfeeding. There seems to be a whole generation of women who were encouraged not to nurse. I grew up never seeing anyone nurse a baby. I don't like the "flaunters", but I also think a nursing, contented baby is far preferable to a screaming tot. This is a difficult issue because it stirs up a lot of feelings in many people. Politeness is always in vogue and we should attempt to be discreet, modest and unobtrusive in all our public encounters. The discussion on this subject was quite interesting over at Althouse.