Before I begin this post, I need to make a few disclaimers:
** I am
not writing to make anyone feel badly about loving and enjoying a really romantic Valentine's Day with their spouse or significant other. If you are the type of person who loves all things Valentine's Day and doesn't feel jaded about it like I do, POWER to you!
**I am
not writing to get some kind of pat on the back or because I'm looking for sympathy or pity. (You may find that hard to believe as you read through, but once you get to the end it will all pull together, I promise). Because I repeat, I'm NOT asking for pity. In fact, I don't want your pity and you'll see why later. And I repeat, I'm not trying to tell you how I'm some supermom either. I'm sharing an experience that I learned from and that is all.
And there will be randomly placed pictures of smiling 1 year old throughout. For no apparent reason. She's just cute and you might need a fun picture break every so often.
Ok, so here we go.
Just for good measure we'll start off with a cute picture.
It shouldn't be new news that Chris and I have never been huge Valentine's Day fans. We see it as a big marketing day to make money off of things that people should be doing a whole lot more regularly than once or twice a year. Plus everything is marked up. Because it's a
Valentine's Day bouquet, it's twice as much. Because it's
Valentine's Day chocolate, it's twice as much. And we've always thought that going OUT to dinner on a day when all the other couples in the world are also going out sounds like a nightmare. Totally not us. To each his own. But that's just not how the
us in
this marriage works.
So Valentine's Day around here usually consists of some simple homemade cards (that those who can create, create) and a dinner prepared by one or the other of us adults; often we each do parts of it and thus work together. And then we usually have a sweet treat (this year was chocolate covered cherries and almonds) together-just the two of us- after the kids are in bed.
This year was mostly the same routine.
Until it was time to put the kids to bed.
Elise had had a low-grade fever that we'd been keeping an eye on all day, but there weren't really other symptoms so we just had it in the back of our minds. So we put Sophie down about half hour before the other gals and she falls right to sleep. As we are putting the other three down, suddenly Elise is a basket case. A complete basket case. I had put a little lavender oil on her forehead to help with the fever and to help her sleep. But she was worried, OH SO WORRIED, that it was getting in her eyes. And suddenly, (of course!) her eyes feel funny. And she's crying and the tears might get the oil in her eyes. And on and on. You really have to be present for an Elise-fear-meltdown to even come close to understanding what it's like. There is NO talking her out of anything. Just crying. And more crying.
And then Ava decided she didn't want to say our family decade of the Rosary, so she starts crying too. Chris and Kayla keep praying the decade. Ava keeps crying. I keep quietly whispering to Elise her special Bible verse, "When I am afraid, I will trust in You," and begging for the intercession of St. Dymphna (patron Saint of anxiety), Mary, and Jesus. And eventually Ava gives up and stops crying. And eeee-ven-tuaaaally, Elise slows her cries to little whimpers and those pitiful little cry hiccups (you know what I'm talking about right?).
We get the girls to bed.
And they are quiet for a few minutes.
Then Elise is crying again. I sit with her and rub her back and hold her hand and whisper a few "decades" of a Chaplet of Mercy slowly and she falls asleep.
Now Ava is making noise again. So I sit with her and we pray the rest of the Chaplet together slowly. She finally seems to realize it's bedtime and she is a bit tired and lays still, so I tell her I'll be back to check on her and tiptoe out.
Finally it's time for Chris and I to watch our latest show, Person of Interest, on Netflix. Sunday is our one day to watch TV and snack since we're giving that up for Lent, so we grabbed our goodies and sat down to enjoy our little show date.
I told you there would be random photos...
Part way through, right when we're at a cliff hanger, I hear something. Chris pauses the show and sure enough, Elise is crying again. Up the stairs I go to see what the problem is. She has to go potty. The tired, frustrated part of me wants to scream (or at least berate her), "Then JUST GO! You are 4 years old. Open the door to your room, find the bathroom, and go potty!!!" But she's little. And she's tired. And she's not feeling 100%. And she's Elise. Everything is a big deal. So I hold her hand and take her to the restroom. And when she's done, I hold her hand and bring her back to bed. Kisses and snuggles, we say our verse again and she closes her eyes once more.
Back to the show.
Another cliff hanger (it's kind of that kind of a show...) and I hear more noises.
Elise again. We had watched Cinderella as our family movie night earlier that evening and when I went upstairs to see what she was crying about this time, it was the movie. She was bummed that Cinderella went away from her home in the carriage with the Prince at end of the movie. "WHERE were they going? I want Cinderella to come back to her house!!" she wails. I explain a bit about that and rub her back, give her some hugs and kisses, and we repeat her verse a few times more. She settles back down uh-again.
Back to the show which we finished and then we headed off to bed.
And just as we are laying down, I hear the sound of a door opening...
Ava. She had to use the restroom. This happens almost every night, and recently it has meant that she begins crying almost hysterically throughout the process until she is returned to her bed. So there was that. Back to bed for her.
And back to bed for me. And then more wails. This time it was Sophie and Elise. Elise's ear was bothering her a little. Chris got her some ibuprofen and I put Sophie back to bed. She was not happy about that at all. Apparently Elise's cries had woken her up and she is crankypants when she gets woken up in the night. So she cried, while Elise got her medicine and I tried to soothe her (because Elise is pretty always a basket case when she wakes up in the middle of the night). Eventually after more prayers, I finally calmed her down enough that I could convince her to go back to her bed and I took Sophie out and brought her to bed with me. She quieted down a little, but wasn't going to sleep. Her restless little toes kept digging into my side, so I put her in the pack n play which we still have set up in our room for naps for her some days. She cried momentarily and then gave in to sweet sleep. And so did I. For a blissful little period of time.

And I honestly can't remember much of the rest of the night except that I got up again with Elise and had to calm her down again and again with Ava who was a huge basket case herself that time and wanted me to lay with her (that's her thing recently). I give in sometimes, and this was definitely one of those nights. Normally though, she falls back asleep quickly and I can retreat silently back to my own (now cold) side of the bed in my own room. But that night she was all kinds of restless and squirmy and oh my goodness.
And then she was in my room whining for "bwekfas" at 7:01am and I couldn't even. I just sent her to get the pile of books that I knew was laying somewhere on our floor from the last time that a scenario of this general nature happened and she sat semi quietly on the bed between Chris and I and looked at the huge stack of books while I lay there in my daze. Eventually I felt I could peel my eyes open enough to walk down the stairs without tripping over and we commenced with the breakfast eating.
My friends, I am still not sure that the calm woman who handled that Valentine's Night(mare) was me. I'm not going to lie and pretend that
normally when I get up in the middle of the night with the kids that I'm patient and cuddling and nurturing mom. I'm usually cranky, tired, deep-angry-sighing mom who gets to the nurturing once the kiddos are back in bed by remembering a kiss and a hug and a "Sleep with the angels" (because despite my tired, crankiness, I do love my kids). But the mom from Valentine's Day night was
loaded up with grace. Jesus and the Saints must have given me a few extra helpings of grace because I was actually able to
embrace my crosses of suffering and they became joyful. I wasn't resentful of the many trips I made that night to comfort, help in the bathroom, soothe fears based in fantasy, or cuddle restless children who seemed to want anything but the sleep I so craved. Because
I craved loving them, specifically, loving them as Christ does more than I craved sleeping.
It was incredible.
The next day, I saw this quote on
Blessed Is She's Instagram page that I had somehow missed on Valentine's Day, but which spoke to me so much more deeply the following day because I had just experienced it in such a tangible way.
"Pure love knows that only one thing is needed to please God: to do even the smallest things out of great love- love, and always love. " -St. Faustina
This Valentine's Day was one in which I can definitely say that I experienced true, pure, raw love. Love and marriage are about sacrifice. Sure, there's lots of joy to be found in love and in marriage and in romance--I know, I've experienced that too. But this year my Valentine's Day was spent reflecting on love in a much different way than I'm used to. It was spent living it. And I know without a doubt that I was given special graces to live it well this year.
Our kids are a true blessing in our lives, but it's not just because of the joy and smiles and cuddles they bring. Kids also have needs, and they are their own stubborn little people who push your buttons and make messes and get in the way of what you want to do sometimes. There I said it. It's true. But when we choose to open ourselves to God's grace and sacrifice our own wants and needs to meet theirs, it is a truly amazing and incredible experience. Because of my husband and kids, I have daily opportunities to grow in virtue by sacrificing myself and choosing to love my family through tiny tiny acts of service. And when I choose to embrace what many look upon as annoyances, I can see that they are truly beautiful expressions of pure love.
Do I go back and forth, fighting against the idea that losing myself is actually how I find myself in Christ? Yes. But I'm grateful for nights like these that remind me that God's grace is truly enough. And that choosing joy is always an option.
Happy Belated Valentine's Day, friends. I hope yours was filled with the love and joy of Christ, whatever that might have meant for you this year.