Questions for my Grandmother

47 years ago today my Grandma Margaret passed away. My mom was twelve years old.

I don't know a lot of intimate details of her life. There are no journals or diaries. Heck, it's even hard to find a photograph of her, since she despised having her picture taken. (Just like my mom.) I know she was a wife to Chub McAdams, a mother to seven children, and was a faithful Catholic. She died when she was fifty-two years old from colon cancer.

When I think about her, I don't "miss" her because I never met her. When I think on her death I do get sad, but not in the same way when I think about my uncles or aunts who have passed away. I can still hear my Uncle Bud's voice. I can still hear my Uncle Mick's laugh. I can see my Uncle Bob's sly smile. I can see my Uncle Dave sitting in a chair, talking, drinking a Mountain Dew. I miss them terribly. I don't have that same experience when thinking about my Grandma Margaret, or even my Grandpa Chub for that matter, since he passed away when I was just two years old.

I have always felt a special connection to my Grandma. I was born on her birthday and in the same town where she was born and raised. My mother named me after her. I always thought that had a little something to do with my mom's decision not to give me up for adoption. My Grandma was very active in the choir at church, played the piano and loved participating in music. I like to think that I got my love of music from her. When I was little I was convinced she was my guardian angel.

Now that I am an adult there are times I wish I could talk to her face to face. When I am feeling discouraged about what is going on in my life I wish I could ask her questions..........

Did you ever worry how you and your husband would raise seven children? Did you even want seven children? How did you cope with the chaos? How did you discipline? Were you worried you would screw them up and they'd grow up to be psycho killers? Did you ever want to bang your head against the wall?


Did you ever worry about life? Were you a worrier like me? My mom told me a story about a time she was talking to her dad, fretting about something, and he told her, "You worry just like your mom used to." My mom also remembers one of her brothers getting you a book called How to Stop Worrying and Start Living by Dale Carnegie. How did you power through your worries and fears?

Did you ever despair in your financial situation? I know that you and your husband were poor. However, your children never knew just how bad off they were until they were much older. How did you hide it from them? How did you provide a happy childhood for them? How did you get by? Did you lay in bed and night and soak your pillow with your tears like I have done? Did you rely on God's help? Did you ever fear the worst?

It is well known in our family that you were a devoted Catholic. You were very active in your parish. Did you ever have doubts in your faith? Did you ever have spiritual darkness? Did you ever wonder what direction God wanted you to go in your life? You lived in a town that was dominantly Protestant. How hard was it to hold on to your faith? Did you ever fall to your knees in sorrow and pain and beg God for help? Was there anything you questioned about the Catholic Church? How did you raise your children in the church? Were you strict?

What were your feelings when after six boys you finally got your daughter? Were you over the moon excited? Were you ever scared being a mom? Your own mother died when you were just six years old. Did you ever second guess yourself? Was it always your dream to be a mother?

Did you ever have dreams and hopes? When I was younger I had big dreams of being an actress. Did you ever want to be a musician or a writer? I hear stories of how much you loved to write and how you were one of the fastest typists ever. Did I get my love of writing from you? Did you ever want to travel? Did you ever feel trapped in small town with seven kids? Or were you content with life?


I've heard that your siblings were a little more financially well off than you were. Did that make you jealous? Did you long for a big beautiful home with nice things? Did you long to be free of financial worry? Did you ever worry your children would feel the sting of being poor?

Your seven children were not all born very close together. My oldest uncle was 20 years old when my mom, the youngest and only girl, was born. As they grew older their sibling bonds grew tighter and stronger. How did you instill in them how important family is? I am hoping and praying that my children have a strong bond growing up like my mom and her siblings. How did you do that?

One thing my uncles have stressed about you is that you were very charismatic and had lots of friends. You could meet a stranger and an hour later you had exchanged addresses and would correspond for years. So it seems that even if you were depressed or melancholy at times you hid it well. My mom gets stopped in the grocery store by older people who tell her how wonderful of a woman you were. You've been gone from this world for nearly 50 years. What an impact you must have made. Even though there aren't many photos of you, I am sure your smile was infectious. I bet your laugh was hearty and joyful.


What do you think of your family here on earth? Do we make you proud? Are you resting in peace knowing that your children and grandchildren are still quite close? Are you happy that we rejoice in life, revel in memories and are dedicated to family? Are you sad that no priest or nun has come out of the family like you always wanted? (I promise I'll work on that for you!) Do I make you proud?

From what I can tell you were a happy woman. You were a devoted daughter of God and loved the Catholic Church, but you were no Puritan. She enjoyed a good shaggy dog story. Your grandparents had come to America from Ireland, so I'm sure you had a lot of spunk and spitfire.



I wish I could have known you. I know someday if I get to heaven I can ask you these questions. Whenever one of my uncles passes away, I always imagine you are the first person to greet them on the other side. You were the first to see them come into this world; you are the first person to see them in the other world. Someday our entire family will be reunited again. Not just for a three day family reunion or a couple days for a funeral. We will be reunited forever. Being stuck with your family for all eternity? Sounds like hell for some people. But not for us. It will be a glorious banquet. A perpetual campfire to gather around. And Jesus and Mary and the saints will be there, too, which will make it even more grand.



You have left such a great legacy. Through your marriage to Grandpa Chub you had 7 children and 28 grandchildren. Your family keeps growing. You keep on living through us. Even though I can't ask you the questions I want to ask you, I can listen to the stories I hear, learn from your life, and try to live my life as you did- loving God, loving family and loving life.

Questions for my Grandmother

47 years ago today my Grandma Margaret passed away. My mom was twelve years old.

I don't know a lot of intimate details of her life. There are no journals or diaries. Heck, it's even hard to find a photograph of her, since she despised having her picture taken. (Just like my mom.) I know she was a wife to Chub McAdams, a mother to seven children, and was a faithful Catholic. She died when she was fifty-two years old from colon cancer.

When I think about her, I don't "miss" her because I never met her. When I think on her death I do get sad, but not in the same way when I think about my uncles or aunts who have passed away. I can still hear my Uncle Bud's voice. I can still hear my Uncle Mick's laugh. I can see my Uncle Bob's sly smile. I can see my Uncle Dave sitting in a chair, talking, drinking a Mountain Dew. I miss them terribly. I don't have that same experience when thinking about my Grandma Margaret, or even my Grandpa Chub for that matter, since he passed away when I was just two years old.

I have always felt a special connection to my Grandma. I was born on her birthday and in the same town where she was born and raised. My mother named me after her. I always thought that had a little something to do with my mom's decision not to give me up for adoption. My Grandma was very active in the choir at church, played the piano and loved participating in music. I like to think that I got my love of music from her. When I was little I was convinced she was my guardian angel.

Now that I am an adult there are times I wish I could talk to her face to face. When I am feeling discouraged about what is going on in my life I wish I could ask her questions..........

Did you ever worry how you and your husband would raise seven children? Did you even want seven children? How did you cope with the chaos? How did you discipline? Were you worried you would screw them up and they'd grow up to be psycho killers? Did you ever want to bang your head against the wall?


Did you ever worry about life? Were you a worrier like me? My mom told me a story about a time she was talking to her dad, fretting about something, and he told her, "You worry just like your mom used to." My mom also remembers one of her brothers getting you a book called How to Stop Worrying and Start Living by Dale Carnegie. How did you power through your worries and fears?

Did you ever despair in your financial situation? I know that you and your husband were poor. However, your children never knew just how bad off they were until they were much older. How did you hide it from them? How did you provide a happy childhood for them? How did you get by? Did you lay in bed and night and soak your pillow with your tears like I have done? Did you rely on God's help? Did you ever fear the worst?

It is well known in our family that you were a devoted Catholic. You were very active in your parish. Did you ever have doubts in your faith? Did you ever have spiritual darkness? Did you ever wonder what direction God wanted you to go in your life? You lived in a town that was dominantly Protestant. How hard was it to hold on to your faith? Did you ever fall to your knees in sorrow and pain and beg God for help? Was there anything you questioned about the Catholic Church? How did you raise your children in the church? Were you strict?

What were your feelings when after six boys you finally got your daughter? Were you over the moon excited? Were you ever scared being a mom? Your own mother died when you were just six years old. Did you ever second guess yourself? Was it always your dream to be a mother?

Did you ever have dreams and hopes? When I was younger I had big dreams of being an actress. Did you ever want to be a musician or a writer? I hear stories of how much you loved to write and how you were one of the fastest typists ever. Did I get my love of writing from you? Did you ever want to travel? Did you ever feel trapped in small town with seven kids? Or were you content with life?


I've heard that your siblings were a little more financially well off than you were. Did that make you jealous? Did you long for a big beautiful home with nice things? Did you long to be free of financial worry? Did you ever worry your children would feel the sting of being poor?

Your seven children were not all born very close together. My oldest uncle was 20 years old when my mom, the youngest and only girl, was born. As they grew older their sibling bonds grew tighter and stronger. How did you instill in them how important family is? I am hoping and praying that my children have a strong bond growing up like my mom and her siblings. How did you do that?

One thing my uncles have stressed about you is that you were very charismatic and had lots of friends. You could meet a stranger and an hour later you had exchanged addresses and would correspond for years. So it seems that even if you were depressed or melancholy at times you hid it well. My mom gets stopped in the grocery store by older people who tell her how wonderful of a woman you were. You've been gone from this world for nearly 50 years. What an impact you must have made. Even though there aren't many photos of you, I am sure your smile was infectious. I bet your laugh was hearty and joyful.


What do you think of your family here on earth? Do we make you proud? Are you resting in peace knowing that your children and grandchildren are still quite close? Are you happy that we rejoice in life, revel in memories and are dedicated to family? Are you sad that no priest or nun has come out of the family like you always wanted? (I promise I'll work on that for you!) Do I make you proud?

From what I can tell you were a happy woman. You were a devoted daughter of God and loved the Catholic Church, but you were no Puritan. She enjoyed a good shaggy dog story. Your grandparents had come to America from Ireland, so I'm sure you had a lot of spunk and spitfire.



I wish I could have known you. I know someday if I get to heaven I can ask you these questions. Whenever one of my uncles passes away, I always imagine you are the first person to greet them on the other side. You were the first to see them come into this world; you are the first person to see them in the other world. Someday our entire family will be reunited again. Not just for a three day family reunion or a couple days for a funeral. We will be reunited forever. Being stuck with your family for all eternity? Sounds like hell for some people. But not for us. It will be a glorious banquet. A perpetual campfire to gather around. And Jesus and Mary and the saints will be there, too, which will make it even more grand.



You have left such a great legacy. Through your marriage to Grandpa Chub you had 7 children and 28 grandchildren. Your family keeps growing. You keep on living through us. Even though I can't ask you the questions I want to ask you, I can listen to the stories I hear, learn from your life, and try to live my life as you did- loving God, loving family and loving life.

The End of Breastfeeding

I has been two weeks since I have breastfed Joe. Our nursing relationship has come to an end, and it ended the way I wanted: peacefully.

I mentioned in this post a while back that I was really starting to resent nursing. I had been planning on weaning before this next baby is born, because I really don't think I can handle tandem nursing. However, I was hoping that Joe would kind of initiate the weaning process. I felt like a horrible mother for taking away the breast and we had had such an awesome nursing bond all the way through until those last few weeks and I didn't want it to end on a sour note. But it needed to be done because I wasn't getting any rest and and it was starting to affect my mothering.

Two changes happened- he transitioned into his crib well and we stopped sleeping in the same room as him. He still wakes up once or twice during the night but usually puts himself back to sleep. If he doesn't, then it is my husband who goes in and soothes him for a minute or two and makes sure he has his binky (that will be another addiction to break soon....) So I've actually been getting a full night's sleep!!!!! Halleluiah, praise the Lord!!!!!

I wanted to wean him slowly, so I would nurse him before he would go to bed and then again before I hit the sack. But then I cut it down to just before he went to sleep. Then I got sick for a few days and was usually in bed before he was. I thought we'd experiment to see if he would totally freak out not having any nursing time, but he did awesome. No crying, no nothing. I could have just kept going on not nursing him, but I'm selfish and still wanted a few more days to savor our breastfeeding relationship. Every time I nursed him he'd turn his head to look at his Daddy and wave and giggle. It became a kind of peek a boo game.

The last night we nursed Ryan wasn't there at all. He had to bar tend at an open house event at his work so I put him to bed by myself. I turned down the lights, put his lullaby music on and laid on the bed to nurse. He nursed for 3 minutes and was ready to read his bedtime story. He wasn't interested in nursing at all.

It's weird not nursing anymore. Joe has always been a marathon nurser. I know it won't be too much longer when I have the chance to nurse again, but I still miss it. I am so happy that we were both ready to move on and that chapter of our relationship was closed with peace.

There are times that he still grabs at my shirt and tres to lift it up. It's very rare, but it happens. He doesn't throw a fit when I say that nursing has gone night night.

It's crazy to see how much he has grown up. In a few days he'll hit the year and a half mark. I just can't believe it. He can interact more with us. He's jabbering away and saying SOMETHING... we just have no clue what it is. He's running, climbing, screaming, and is definitely his own little person.

Yes, that's a St. Patrick's Day beer mug in his hand!

I've been printing off pictures of when Joe was first born and I can't believe how far we've BOTH come. I look at the pictures of me and I just remember how scared crapless I was. How unsure I was. I still don't have everything figured out, but I feel a tad more confident now.



I'm thankful for our breastfeeding relationship. It has helped us out both tremendously these past 17 months. I'm praying that our next little blessing and I will have a great nursing bond as well.

I Dread Lent

Every year it happens. About a week before Ash Wednesday the stirrings of "What am I going to give up for Lent?" begin on Facebook. Then, on Mardi Gras, Facebook explodes with profile pictures of "Off Facebook for Lent" and "Goodbye chocolate!" statuses. Not just from Catholics- there are a lot of our Protestant brothers and sisters who give up something for Lent as well. I always thought Lent was a Catholic thang.

Then come the statuses from my friends who are destined to be saints. "Yay Lent!"

To that I want to say, "Are you crazy?!"

I wish I could be like my friends and look to Lent with joy and anticipation. It is a time the Church gave us to grow in holiness and to grow closer to Christ. We should always be doing that, but, Mother knows best- she knows our weaknesses and knows we need a massive spiritual boost oooh... about twice a year.

But what do I see? Lent = dread.

NO MEAT ON FRIDAYS. I am a meat girl. For realz. The only time I ever considered being a vegetarian was when I learned that Jonathan Taylor Thomas was a vegetarian and if I was going to ever marry him I better get used to not eating meat.

Oh, JTT. Don't judge me, people.

That lasted about 43 minutes.

I LOVE my meat. Mmm- MMMM! I eat it everyday. It is so tender. It is so juicy and delicious... Wow. I seriously just zoned out for about 1 minute thinking about meat. I better stop writing about it.

Needless to say, it is hard for me to give up meat. Ironically when I was a student at Benedictine I gave up meat FOR ALL OF LENT. I was much holier then. Not sure what happened to me. I know there are plenty of other things to eat besides meat, but I'm picky. I'm not a big fish fan (except for Long John Silver's fish and fish sticks, but I'm usually laughed at when I say this is the only fish I like.) And those crappy vegetarian meals just don't cut it for me.

I HATE fasting. I love to eat. Snacking is my downfall. I'm not sure if I would have survived back in the day where you couldn't eat anything ALL DAY. That's why old people are holier than us young heathens.

So that's the two major things that bum me out during Lent. But then there are the boring churches. No decorations. Sometimes the statues are covered up. Yes, yes, before you start in- I know all that external stuff is just extra stuff to aid in worship, and half the time I don't even notice it. But when Lent rolls around the difference just stands out to me. Everything is so blah. I feel spiritually blah. The weather outside is blah, no flowers, no color... Lent is just blah. So when the sanctuary is blah, and there is no Gloria or Alleluia sung I feel... lackluster.

Then there is that whole penance thing. Lent is about penance. As a prideful, sinful person, penance is hard. As a person who wants everything to be easy, penance is REALLY hard. I know that I need it, but it's like exercising. I know I need to do it, it's good for you, helps you out in the long run, but I'm lazy. Simple as that.

When I see my friends' Facebook statuses that read "Yay Lent!" or "I love Lent!" I just scratch my head. Is Lent really to be enjoyed? Denying oneself is not easy. But then I remember the Bible verse:

"Whenever you fast, do not put on a gloomy face as the hypocrites do, for they neglect their appearance so that they will be noticed by men when they are fasting. ... But you, when you fast, anoint your head and wash your face." -Matthew 6:16-17

I know my friends know that Lent isn't all sunshine and unicorn glitter. They know it will be hard. Their mouth will salivate when they smell their neighbors grilling steaks on a Friday night. But they have anointed their heads and washed their face. They put on the face of joy and not complaining. That's why they will go to heaven right away and I'll burn in the purifying fires of Purgatory for 900 million years.

Maybe I get so pissy and bitter because I always hope that I'll have some spiritual Renaissance happen to me. I'll finally battle through this spiritual darkness that I've struggled with for the past couple of years. But in the end it is still the same. Nothing has changed. That is just something I will have to work on and pray through.

Why do I even bother doing all this jazz during Lent? As much as I complain I do follow the standards. So why?

Because I love Jesus and I love the Catholic Church. Jesus was tortured, mocked, humiliated, stripped, spat upon, beaten, had huge thorns pierced into his scalp, screamed at by hundreds, had nails driven through his wrists and feet and hung on a cross to die. He didn't die by bleeding to death. He died by slowing suffocating. All this for hours upon hours. As he sees his closest friends abandoning him. As he sees the people who just days before welcomed him into the city as a king now cursing at him and laughing at him.

All this for me. For you.

So of COURSE I can give up meat and gorging myself all day. I really need to stop complaining. All these things we do reminds us of Jesus. These actions remind us that it isn't just food that nourishes us. It is God. Going without food reminds us of the hungry- that we must care for all God's children. Giving up meat and sweets or caffeine reminds us of sacrifice. It helps us to remember the ultimate sacrifice that Christ made for us.

The Church wants what is best for us. That is why she has these guidelines. They are to help us, not hurt us. Why not take advantage of the gifts the Church has given us to grow closer in our relationship with God?

Lent is kind of like our time here on earth. It can be drab and dark. But there is good and growing in it as well. Our time on earth is leading up to our final home in heaven, just as Lent leads up to the glory of Easter. The days get longer, full of sunshine, the flowers begin to bloom, the grass pokes through the barren, cold soil and there is glory and life. Easter comes and in the blah sanctuary is an explosion of pure white lilies, the statues are uncovered to show the holy men and women of heaven and we can finally sing alleluia.

Lent is good. I just need to stop acting all Adam and Eve-ish with that pesky Original Sin and start looking to Jesus.

Praying that you all have a very blessed Lent!

The Winner Is...

And the winner of I Just Can't Take It Anymore is.....

Joy from joy in the morning!

Congrats!

Just email me your address and I will get the book to you ASAP!

Thanks to all who entered!

Reminder for Book Giveaway!

Don't forget about my giveaway of Anthony DeStefano's I Just Can't Take It Anymore!

You have until 12:00 noon (CST) tomorrow, Monday, February 20th. All you have to do is leave a comment at this post and I will randomly select a winner. Be sure to leave a comment at the review post, NOT here!

Good luck!

Thanks Y'all...

I should be sleeping right now. I'm emotionally, physically and spiritually drained. Plus I've eaten waaay too much chocolate today so I feel like crap. (I can't drown my sorrows in wine, so I have to go with chocolate.) I just wanted to jump on here real quick like and thank you for the prayers and comments. They are helping. Believe me.

Tonight I was reading Moo Baa La La La to Joe and I broke down at "Rhinoceroses snort and snuff." I was laying on the bed and Joe was sitting up beside me and he leaned down and laid his head on my belly and put his arm over me. He was hugging me. My 17 month old son who often drives me to want to bang my head against the wall, was hugging me. I hate breaking down in front of him like that. I can see the confusion in his eyes like, "Uh, lady, I'm the one who is supposed to have the irrational emotional outbursts. Not you."

Every time I put him on his changing table after his bath to lotion him up he always stands up and hugs on tight to me. (He also tries to bite my shoulder and neck. My little vampire.) But tonight as he was hugging me, he patted and rubbed my back. He's never done that before. I always rub and pat his back when I give him a hug when he's upset. Tears spilled over my eyes when he did this. (Ugh, they are now, too. Damn you, hormones!!!)

I love how he knows me so well. I love how he comforts me in his own little ways.

No matter what happens, a baby will be born. A new soul is living inside me. I keep thinking of this pregnancy as a medical condition and not the miracle it is. Ryan and I are adding to our family. We are giving Joe the gift of a sibling. There is so much more good in this situation than bad. I just need to keep focusing on that.

Again, thank you for your help and prayers. Keep 'em coming, because I am weak, and I need them! Thank you, thank you, thank you.