Katie Curtis

15 Annos

25 September, 2019/0 Comments/in Marriage, Parenting/by Katie

Today is our 15 Year Anniversary.

This week of September holds a lot of milestones for our family – my husband turned 44, my daughter turned 10, our marriage turns 15, and the twins turn two in a few weeks. All of these are leaving me head-tiltedly bewildered. How did time go so fast?

I mean, part of it is the feeling of getting old. I’m not old enough to have teenagers, or be married for 15 years. We just threw this awesome party like a nanosecond ago.

But part of it is also the season we are in too. It speeds up time.

Having teenagers and toddlers is a bit like straddling two very tall buildings at the same time. Your legs start to feel like jello after a while and you lose your bearings for what ground level (life with no kids, or one kid, or even two) used to be like.

It’s a time of breaking down, of digging deep and learning hard lessons. There are so many things that worked when our kids were all under 10 and in bed by 8 o’clock that don’t work anymore. We eat in shifts: toddlers get hungry early, older kids eat late due to sports. (Family dinner was a hard one to let go of for me for sure). The big kids want to stay up with us watching movies, and the twins want us to get up with the birds. There is candle burning going on at both ends and also somewhere in the middle too.

Obviously this is all hard on a marriage. But immensely purifying. Any issues that we thought we could sweep under the rug have to be drawn out and dealt with because of the sheer number of logistics of our life. I remember some friends worrying the stress of too many kids would hurt our marriage, but I think the opposite might be true. It forges fox-hole loyalty.

The popular Canadian professor Dr. Jordan Peterson says, marriage is “a lifelong wrestling between two worthy adversaries who strengthen each other and help one another to sort out and improve upon their various personal struggles and weaknesses.” One of his main principles is the more responsibility you take on in your life the more meaning you will find, and when he says that I think he must know what having a large family is like. Or at least why it’s worth it.

Year 15 looks like: toddler dimples in hands, emerging personalities that are hilarious and witty, a boy so innocent his smile and hugs delight everyone, and his twin who manages to be salty and sweet at the same time. There is lots and lots of sibling love. There is probably too much screen time. A home that is more and more becoming our own, tailored to our life and not just some walls we inhabit. Days revolve around early wake ups, rides to school and sports, lots and lots of food, and walks outside. These are the core of my days, a half hour of quiet and calm in the stormy sea of chaos coordinating. They are magic every season but especially in this season, with gorgeous fall weather, when the twins are strapped down (read: safe and not trashing a room) and silently watch the wind blow leaves to the ground and autumn light glinting on the bay. I get to pray and breath, which feel like the same thing.

Our neighbors have fruit trees, and the twins know when we walk by them I’ll go over and pick peaches and apples. They point and get excited as soon as we get near the trees. Yesterday I went and all the peaches were gone, a reminder that everything is a season, including this challenging time.

They still they have apples though.

I’m also reading this book, which I highly recommend if you want to find peace and awe in your interior life but I don’t recommend it if you want to write and produce a lot of on line content for consumption because it will make you not want to contribute to the noise in the world in anyway. One of the chapters has a story about St. Theresa of Calcutta, and a priest who came to see her and ask her for prayers. She said she always prays for priests, and gave him a miraculous medal. Then she asked him how much he prays. Mass, the Rosary, and the Brevery every day was his answer. “That is not enough,” she said. “I thought you were going to ask me about my works of charity,” he said. She looked at him very seriously, and said “Do you think I am able to do my works of charity without praying first?”

A reminder that we need God to love well, through our limitations and theirs. And that is probably the most important thing I’ve learned about marriage. That and there is no one I would rather do it with than Rob.

God in the Dishwasher

17 July, 2019/0 Comments/in Parenting, Writing/by Katie

^A picture of part of the holey kitchen and a toddler who keeps tipping over those trash cans

If you ask me what I needed the least with 20-month-old twins, my answer would have been a home renovation. I can think of other things that would be worse, but a home renovation would definitely be in the top five. But as a fellow human you know about those times life presents us with something hard that makes us want to shout back, no I cannot handle that right now, and proceeds to give it to us anyway despite our protests.

So it was that in February, our dishwasher motor sprung a small leak. The kind that goes for weeks without any indication it’s there, silent and menacing, and soaks your dry wall and your subfloors until they buckle and requires those emergency companies that bring in massively huge and loud fans and dehumidifiers and tear up parts of your house right before your eyes and sprays for mold. Then, after you’ve register what has become of your kitchen, you play tug of war with your insurance company on how to put it back together again. Much like being heavily pregnant, you have a distant hope that things will turn out great but also a slight fear that you’ll be in this state forever.

We decided to do it all after school got out, and live at our camp while the work got done. For the most part, we worked around the holes in our daily life, and other than having to move the trash cans so the twins didn’t dump them over and having to switch the photo shoot with the magazine I am a food columnist for to another kitchen, we survived. Turns out you can make spring pea and mint raviolis in any kitchen.

Still only 73% sure it would ever happen, we began to plan the kitchen remodel. We found a company that can reface our existing cabinets and rebuild the ones that were gutted at half the price of getting new ones and fit into our budget from the insurance company. We watched happily when the flooring company replace the wood that was ripped out so we could stop stubbing our toes where the planks were missing. We’re moving a few things around, and it’s mostly a face lift, but it’ll become the clean, well-lit space that we’ve always wanted. Even if I didn’t want it precisely right now.

Because all of our floors were being redone, we had to book movers to take out ALL of our belongings from the first floor. We scheduled them for July 2nd. The date loomed larger on the calendar as school ended, mostly because it was harder to pack with my big kids than it was because of toddler twins, a fact I hadn’t considered and did not handle well at all. Then there were the loving people who were scared for me. I must have had eight conversations with friends and family that went like this:

Them: You have to take out everything? Me: Yup.

Them: Really? Even the fridge and the stove? Me: Yes, everything.

Them: Even the pantry shelves? Me: Yes, the pantry shelves stand on the floor they need to refinish. Ergo…

By the middle of June, I was having heart palpitations at the thought of having to pack up everything (everything? Yes everything) over the next two weeks, including the pantry, fridge, freezer and those clutter corners of our home that had grown since we had twins. I was simultaneously terrified but also ashamed of my stress and panic since it would all be ok. Our kitchen and floors will end up beautiful! At least we can go to the lake while it all got done! Still the amount of work paralyzed me. The kitchen is like the heartbeat of a family and it felt a bit like open heart surgery on our home.

I generally like to operate with a pretty strong center of peace, and I disliked that I was losing mine. Especially when I was interrupted from my goal of packing while toddlers slept by fighting grade schoolers. But where I erred was in thinking that something like a leak in the dishwasher, and the stress of a renovation, is something outside God’s domain. That something so earthly and busy and has so many pragmatics is in the material realm isn’t the stuff of God. But he wants all of us, including our stress and holey kitchens and leaky dishwashers, so he can give us good things. When the tsunami of life’s anxiety hits, he’s waiting in it. For us to attend to him, instead of it.

When I remembered this, my perspective changed. Those little people keeping me from my work were who all of this was for. Because God wants to give them good things too.

I focused just on what I could do each day to dismantle our busy house, and surprise, rediscovered that staying in the present brings peace. I also realized how therapeutic it can be to scrub out the molasses from the upper cupboard shelf and the melted popsicle in the bottom of the freezer. To sweep up the mess that’s been living under the couch since you last looked for the remote in 2017. I stopped dreading the amount of work and instead embraced things moving from the realm of chaos into order. I had watched the Konmarie show on Netflix like the rest of the world and really wanted to do what they were doing but I didn’t ever think I had the time. Well guess what a leak in your dishwasher will give you? FORCED Konmari-ing. Which ends up feeling pretty liberating.

On moving day, my husband took all the kids up north, and I worked with the movers all day to clean out everything (everything?) even the pantry shelves. As a food writer and blogger I am quite devoted to these pantry shelves, and I often write about the benefits of a well-stocked pantry for easy meal planning. There are no benefits to a well-stocked pantry when it comes to moving, however.

As much as I resisted having to do it, when it was happening there was such a sense of relief that these messes were leaving us, being dealt with, that they would be replaced with order and calm. When we move back in at the end of July, there will be shiny floors and a bright kitchen. As I was cleaning, I had this nagging feeling that God wanted this all for us even if I didn’t want it myself right now. And not just the shiny kitchen. He wanted me to be forced to clean up the messes. And while I’m sure there’s a metaphor there about how he wants to do this to our souls, to scour out grime and filth and leave beauty and order, I had the distinct sense that he wanted this for our physical space too.

After almost 10 hours of hauling and cleaning and pitching, I pulled away from the empty rooms, and drove up to the lake house with six sleeping children and a husband holding a cold beer for me, my heart overflowing with gratitude for all these gifts he keeps giving us. I’ll return in a few weeks and help the movers put everything back, but in the meantime we’re enjoying slow summer time with each other, which God probably knew we needed too. And when I go back to set up the home he’s so generously given to us, he’ll be right there in the middle of all of it, and I’ll keep telling him thank you.

A Life’s Work

6 June, 2019/1 Comment/in Writing/by Katie

It’s my birthday this Saturday, and we’re celebrating by having pretty much my dream day: my husband and kids and I will take a ferry to an island off of Portland, ME, where my best friend is renting a big house with her new husband and baby. We’ll sit and watch the ocean from rocking chairs or hammocks, get lobsters for dinner from a lobsterman on the island (if you’ve read my novel the Wideness of the Sea you’ll know how close all these things are to my heart), drink wine, play games with the kids, and drift off to sleep with the sound of a clinking harbor bell off in the distance, the salty breeze of the ocean drifting in.

Like I said, a perfect day.

I tend to get reflective around my birthday, and it occurred to me that right now, in this very spot in life, as I roll into my 43rd year and roll out of another year of school for the kids, will be one of those times that I’ll look back on and wonder how did I do all that? Six kids, TWO nineteen month old boys, a marriage I try hard to make strong and a husband who I love spending time with, a dog and a cat, a writing life full of deadlines for short projects and bigger projects that whisper to me all the time, stacks of books I want to read, and dinner every night.

And then it hits me: is this a great life or what?

I know from the number of people who say to me ‘Oh my gosh, six kids! Better you than me’ that its not a life many people would choose. It sounds hard. It sounds like too much responsibility. Too much life to give up.

But I owe it to anyone out there who is wondering if they could do big family life to tell them that the world has it so wrong. Laying down your life for other people sets you free.

Definitely not in the day to day, hour by hour, is-it-almost-bedtime-yet sense of being free. On this level, it’s super hard, and there is a lot of work that needs to get done everyday and a lot to manage. I’m in a season where I rarely get to do what I want (and I tend to compensate by staying up too late one night a week and walk around tired the next day because I just need that one chunk of time alone.) There is effort. There is self-sacrifice. There are always piles of dishes and laundry. And I am v v grateful that my husband does all these things with me.

But when I wonder about how to bring goodness into the world and what I could do with my life that has the most meaning, there is this intense peace about caring for all these beautiful souls. And they will leave and have families and hopefully bring love and joy to the world. Each one of my kids could be a life’s work that I was proud of, and I get to multiply that feeling by six.

And here’s the thing: in filling up my plate so full, everything unnecessary has had to get removed from my life, so that only what’s necessary remains. It’s simple, its pure, and while it’s not easy, it is a very light burden. Because all that remains is to love and be loved. And somewhere deep in our hearts that is what we are wired for. That’s what we were created to do. And I get to do it every day.

I often think it’s a bit like breathing, like inhaling and exhaling. I feed people, I go for a run, feed people, run kids to sports, make dinner, do the power hour with the babies where we do baths, diapers, jammies, bottle and bed. I read a book with my six year old, and I chat with my big kids about their lives. And then I fall in to bed, exhausted, knowing that the babies will be up early and we’ll do it all over again. But in between all these activities, there are these moments. A hug, a kiss, a smile, a giggle, a laugh, a discovery, a song, a dance party, a tickle session. And I know that these are the moments I will treasure in my heart forever, like on-my-death-bed montage playing in my head of these memories and I’ll think, I’d do it all again. Just like that. It was perfect.

And I know from spending a nanosecond in the media that this life sounds horrible to many people. But one book read, one meal, one interaction with my kids, means more to me than any accolade. Sure they are shiny and they catch my attention. Sure I would love to have more time to work. But this loving and being loved business? Man. Nothing is quite like it.

I think we’re at a very interesting point in history where women can do whatever they want. And that is as it should be. Women are such a gift to the world. Men are too. I just hope that women and men who are coming down the pike know that of all the things they could do, one of the choices available to them is to fall crazy madly in love with people, and live together with them in chaos and noise and clutter and messes and joy. Lots and lots of joy. And that this choice isn’t crazy. It shouldn’t be laid down too casually or rejected too easily. It actually might be the best thing they could ever have done with their lives. Sure you might be broke at the end, but only if you measure what’s not important. If you measure what’s important, you’re cup runneth over.

Thoughts on Mother’s Day

10 May, 2019/0 Comments/in Marriage, Parenting, Writing/by Katie

I just left the Kindergartener’s Mother’s Day tea with my 6 year-old son and it was as adorable as it sounds. I got to thinking a lot about being a mom on the way home and I mostly thought about what a gift my kids are to me. I am keenly aware of the relationships around me that can’t celebrate all the good that this bond should be, either through death, or brokenness, or distance. But it is also my best friend’s first Mother’s Day with her 7 month-old daughter, and I know the road that led to her and it’s paved with heartache and hope and the power of love, just like all the best stories. When I think about her experiencing such a powerful relationship for the first time, I think about what it has taught me over the last 13 years. Here’s the highlight reel.

Learn to forgive yourself. You will always fall a little or a lot short of showing them the love you want them to know. This is because it’s really, really hard to take care of a human being while you already have to take care of yourself. You will regularly have to choose between going to the bathroom or changing a diaper, feeding your growling stomache or the starving beast having a meltdown, dealing with your own fever/stomach flu/worry/hormone swings or any other discomfort a human can feel and helping them with theirs. This is the trickiest business of motherhood. And it makes us short-tempered and crabby at times. Also, you aren’t perfect and you never will be, so there is a lot of room for self-doubt and uncertainty to creep in. Every time it does, ask yourself, ‘Are you doing the best you can?’ and ‘Do they know they are deeply loved?’. If the answer to those two questions is yes, you are succeeding. Remind yourself of this often.

Hold them closely and loosely at the same time. You want to squeeze them and breath in their smell after a bath, and kiss the sweet baby cheeks when they fall asleep on your shoulder. But motherhood is at its essence being one with another person and then losing them, little by little, every moment since birth. Every step of independence is leading to them leaving you, and you have to both mourn each loss while cheering them on with every ounce of your being. It’s not for the faint of heart.

You shouldn’t be their whole world and they shouldn’t be yours. It’s tempting! I know. And there are times when they are. But every time you go out to book club or take a job or a class or go for a run, you are actually expanding their world because you will come back filled up, refreshed, or wiser. The stronger you are and the more you invest in yourself, the stronger their mother will be. All women lose themselves in motherhood at times. You get capsized by newborns and different ages and stages. But after a while, you have to find your newer, wiser, changed self again, and doing this is hard work. It’s easier not to. But your kids will be immensely better off if you do. And keep your marriage a priority, as much as it’s in your control. Showing your husband and your kids that your relationship with your husband comes first gives the family so much stability.

Keep the end in mind. This phrase is actually one of Stephen Covey’s habits in his book The 7 Habits of Highly Effective People. There is a lot of wisdom for moms in this book that is usually read for succeeding in business. In it he has what he calls the ‘Maturity Continuum’, and he places all 7 of the habits on the continuum from dependence to independence to interdependence. You are a highly effective person and family if you are interdependent. (To read more about the habits, go here or better yet read the book.) But this habit helps me immensely, from disciplining, to shaping them as people, to talking about problems in the world and death and going to Heaven. And not sweating the small stuff along the way.

Help them to see who they really are. When Oprah interviewed Ralph Lauren’s family, his wife Rickie said this was her main goal as a mom, and it just stuck with me. Being a mirror for them, helping them to really know themselves, seemed like such a beautiful thing. To me, this involves a lot of pointing out moments they were at their best, qualities they have that are unique to them that are wonderful like their laugh or their sense of humor. It’s playing them videos of when they were little and talking about the memories I have of them. It’s saving all of their special artwork and awards through the years in their own special file box that they can look through whenever they want. It also involves talking about actions that don’t display their best self, like fighting or being selfish or gloating. ‘You’re better than that’ is a powerful statement that validates who they really are while pointing out bad behavior.

Trust your instincts. All the great artists do. Plus Dr. Sears or Ferber or the nurse who lives next door won’t ever parent your child. Only you will.

The dishes and laundry and housework will never be done, but their childhood will. Prioritize accordingly.

Fellow moms – what would you add to this list? Leave your thoughts in the comments as I am sure my friend will love to read them. Happy Mother’s Day!

All At Once

7 April, 2019/0 Comments/in Parenting, Writing/by Katie

All at once, the snow is gone. And the trees have tiny pointed buds on them in deep colors. And the temperature is warm enough to make a winter jacket a burden. The birds are singing in the morning, the sweetest song, seemingly just for us. It all feels like a surprise, like my first spring ever.

The babies stare out the windows for hours. What used to be all white all the time is all at once colors and light and the flicker of birds and chipmunks and squirrels. They toddle over to their fleece snowsuits and pull. They want to go outside. And when I buckle them into their stroller, their eyes are wide and excited and the corners of their mouth are turned up in a smile.

All at once the air is so fresh. Our dog has taken to running away in the mornings, breaking through the invisible fence, because suddenly the smells are so strong and tempting and new that he just doesn’t care about getting electrocuted. It’s terribly inconvenient and yet completely understandable. Spring has sprung.

All at once the streams have thawed and bubble happily next to the road, so that I turn the stroller for the babies to watch. I wish I could record the sound of the water gently gurgling over the stones since for some reason it makes me so happy and peaceful.

It happened so fast – the end of winter and the start of spring – that it feels surprising, shocking even. Of course we knew spring would come, in our minds, on our calendars. But being in it, inside spring when the earth is gently waking up, is something else.

I know part of my awe this year is seeing it through my children’s eyes. The babies didn’t even remember the sun. The warmth of it, or the feel of the breeze across their skin. They lean forward in the stroller, eyes wide, taking it all in. Taking in the earth and the sky and the trees and the brook and the birds and the sun. They don’t make a peep, and they sit very still. Like it could all disappear again on them and they don’t want to miss it.

The big kids come home and throw down their bags and hop on their bike, or take a stick and push it into the soft earth or the streams that run around our house. Every other driveway on our street has a kid shooting baskets, the staccato rhythm of the ball bouncing blends into our afternoons. The sound of giggling laughter as kids jump on trampolines is so sweet I think it might be the path to world peace.

My children have dug through their summer clothes and pulled out their shorts and flip flops. They put Alexa in the basket on their bike so they have music when they stay inside the wifi zone. So they go back and forth in front of our house, singing while they ride, the wind blowing their hair back, which is basically the same thing as flying.

The sweetness of this moment is knowing what we’ve just come from: frozen tundra. Air so cold it hurts. Chapped lips and hands and cheeks. And knowing what we are still facing: scorching hot days, where babies will sweat taking our walk, and I will beg for air conditioning and cold water when we’re done. The sun will beat down and the grass will wither and scorch, and bugs will annoy us more than the heat. Going outside will become the same quick dash to the car that winter was, and we’ll try to get away from the elements instead of sinking into them.

But not now. All at once, going outside is like a siren song, like getting kissed by Mother Nature. So we’ll obey, and go outside, and linger in the soft sounds and the sweet smells of spring.

The Gift of Story

16 February, 2019/0 Comments/in Writing/by Katie

Hi there? How’s your February going? Are you in a Polar Vortex/cabin fevor region? If you’re anything like me, one of the things getting you through it is the Gift of Story.

This winter I’m relying on Netflix (preferably on the treadmill) and playing smart things on my phone like Podcasts and Audible. It’s actually a little shocking how much I depend on these things. They are the salt of my days, adding flavor to everything else.

My gratitude for stories that transport me away from frozen temperatures and teething toddlers is much like the gratitude I have for oxygen and our daily bread. It’s my m.o. for getting through hard things, like moving in the 5^thgrade, (and 7^th, and 10^th), grieving my dad and my brother, having twins, winter. The power of story is universal, and I love knowing I’m not alone in needed this escape. As I work on my current novel, I am again reminded of how essential it is as an adult to still spend some time in the world of make believe. The details that take us out of ourselves, pull us from our navel gazing and dryness and fill us with a spark, with hope, with resilience. My hunger for this is not unique, and I am always curious about other people who hunger for it too. Those kindred souls who are fascinated by the human spirit and amazed at the ways in which it finds expression.

The philosopher Lonergan wrote that art is essential to our human experience because it takes us out of ourselves, pulls us out of our pain, confusion, and monotony and allows us to observe another’s experience. This becomes cathartic since we can process our own thoughts and feelings by observing the events in a movie, an opera, a painting, a novel. Have you ever left a movie feeling very light? Or noticed that when the curtains closed at the end of the final act of a show you felt – free? That’s because art liberates us, frees us, and gives us insights into the big picture of our own lives.

The year the twins were born, I survived by watching Game of Thrones and the first four seasons of The Walking Dead. Before they were born I thought these series were too violent. Then I was pulled out of bed at 1, and 3, and 4:30, which felt pretty violent too. Of course, the power of story and good writing is what makes these shows so successful. If I had to be awake, at least I could find out what Cersei was scheming or how Rick Grime would out-smart and out-heart his latest nemesis. It helped to watch shows that were intense because what I was living felt intense, even if I still had to fast forward through the gratuitous nudity and everything around Theon being tortured.

When I started sleeping through the night, I stopped watching The Walking Dead. But as soon as the twins started teething and we were all getting bad sleep again, wouldn’t you know I gravitated towards it again. I’m currently in Season 5, which should take us nicely through Michael’s molars.

When more scandals in the Catholic church were announced last year, and the hurt and heartache were so hard to bear, my family went up north and we watched the Lord of the Rings trilogy, and there was so much consolation from that story. Things that are so hard to understand – why people do evil, why even good people can disappoint us, and how the power of a tiny yes can bring great big things to bear – played out in another world. That cathartic power was at work and helped me process it.

If I am by some accounts a privileged white woman (though I don’t really buy into that way of describing people at all), and I depend on story for survival, how much more do those who live with oppression need it? Girls in Africa, boys in India, mothers in Mexico, fathers in Pakistan. I want to know their stories and see their experiences through their eyes, and my hope is that by discovering the power of story, they will be able to tell it. The reality is life is hard for all of us, some more than others, and compassion is our best tool to face the challenges of life. Stories help us develop that compassion.

One of the best things I discovered recently through Jenna’s blog at Call Her Happy is a link to the books that women in the Chicago prison system have requested. It’s on Amazon and when you look at the titles you see the hunger of human spirit for story, for healing, for peace. I was so moved to help get some of those books in their hands. I hope you will be too.

I recently finished Becoming Mrs. Lewis, a very well-written account of how the novelist and poet Joy Davidman got to know C.S. Lewis through letters, where they poured out their stories of writing and converting to Christianity. The book showed how she influenced his writing by helping him flesh out his ideas. I had read most of his books, and it was so interesting to go from the idea of the book, to their conversations about it, to what it would finally become. But what bonded them most was the power of story, and the make believe place we all have in our imaginations, whether it is a snowy forrest, or in Joy’s case, a beautiful garden. I took a lot of inspiration from her writing poetry in the hardest days of motherhood.

What are the stories that are moving you right now? I would love to hear about them. And if you are in one of the difficult parts of your own story, hang in there. It gets better. The great stories are always about redemption.

On the Y, KonMari and Dreaming (and Other Thoughts for the New Year)

17 January, 2019/1 Comment/in Uncategorized/by Katie

Back in December, my thoughts for the new year beyond mothering my six kids included plans like writing a book, running another half marathon, and organizing my house. Then God laughed at those plans. At least some of them.

I got a tear in my knee playing pickle ball (half marathon – out), and my au pair broke her wrist Christmas Day and left two days later (writing a book – mostly out). I got back from skiing after New Year’s feeling like I was in a snowglobe and I couldn’t see the next step (which I know is a good place to be spiritually because trust and faith and all that but its’s also really uncomfortable when you’re in it). I didn’t even know how I would manage that first week with my husband gone M-F at a meeting and the big kids having sports at nap time and bed time. Telling my 6th grader he couldn’t go to basketball wasn’t an option. Neither was bringing cranky babies. Military wives, you’re my heroes.

But as usual, God knew what he was doing.

My old sitter was back in town and in between jobs and happy to help us. I decided to go to the Y gym three times a week while the babies played happily in the day care. The second day, my neighbor Dian, who moved to my street from Dublin two years ago, showed up in the parking lot, looking like an angel in spandex, waving at me. “Hello mah dear!” We worked out on things that didn’t hurt my knee (a weight class & the elliptical, yay) for nearly two hours. Dian says things like, ‘you did brilliant!’ and ‘shall we have some Champagne then?’ which would alone make me love her but she is fun and smart even without the Champagne.

Turns out going to the Y for a few hours a week and working out with friends is much, much better for my soul than managing a 21-year-old, much as we loved her. I could feel months of stress melting off of me that I didn’t even know was there.

Perhaps because I entered the New Year so thrown for a loop or twelve, I started to pay attention to all the advice people were offering on social medial. Turns out there are a lot of opinions about how to start off a New Year well. I was amazed at how many official stances on resolutions there were as I checked my phone in between unpacking and putting away Christmas stuff.

The advice panned out as it quickly led me to the KonMari train. The idea that putting order in our homes will put order in our relationships will put order in our lives is so intoxicating, isn’t it? In years past I have used the equally effective show Horders to help me clean up from Christmas, which will have you pitching stuff faster than you can say ‘does this spark fear?’. But Marie is much nicer to look at than people locked into a prison inside their own homes.

Starting to KonMari my house helped me get my bearings. But it didn’t take long to figure out that what I really needed – and I suspect many people did too – was to just listen to the quiet. After all the giving, all the parties, all the joy-making, I needed to hibernate, to listen to my own thoughts and heart. In the age of social media, it’s so easy to be flooded with other people’s voices. We have to keep reminding ourselves that it is the still, small voice inside us that we need to hear the most.

What I heard when I listened was actually a lot of questions, and even though they sounded a little like Marie’s translator, I knew they were really my own. What did I treasure about the last year? What did I want to leave there and not bring with me into the new year? What are the changes I want to make? What are the ways I will still love and forgive myself when change is hard?

When I reflected on my dreams and desires for the new year, I had this sense that the most powerful catalyst for change is the feeling of possibility. And there is nothing in our adult lives (pregnancies aside) to let us feel the power of possibility like emptiness. It is pure potential, it is the heart of creativity, it is magic. So I cleared off my window seat, and got to work journaling those answers while the babies slept.

Perhaps the best thing about the New Year is simply the clean, empty pages in the calendar waiting to be written on, but not marked up just yet. Not claimed yet for this commitment or that obligation, instead holding the power of possibility in its emptiness. Without an au pair, I didn’t have to plan out every day. Where I previously felt like I had to do all the things, now I made time for journaling, for getting down on the floor and playing with babies, for working out with a friend at the gym. And I bloomed instantly in the emptiness.

I suspect this is why KonMari has taken hold at the start of a new year. Because the same quiet, the same emptiness that holds possibility in our time is also true for our space. And when we have room in our lives – in our homes and our calendars – our hearts have a chance to spread out a little, seek out what they love, put down deeper roots, and find peace.

It’s a lesson I need to keep relearning, and one I think God teaches us over and over. He uses things like sickness and injury and pregnancy and babies to do it sometimes, but he has to get through somehow.

So here’s to slowing down and finding joy. To quieting the space in your homes. And as much as parents of small kids can, finding quiet in the space in our calendar. Let’s also do the same for our hearts – clean out unnecessary fears, and unrealistic expectations, and find a window seat to sit and think. Or at the very least, clean off the one you already have. When we do, we are left with all of our dreams, and the hope that they might come true. Which is exactly where I want to be at the start of a new year.

A Year in the Life {Squared}

4 December, 2018/0 Comments/in Uncategorized/by Katie

Well, the twins turned one.

It might be obvious to anyone looking at a before and after photo of our family, but it took a long time for my brain to wrap around going from 4 to 6 kids. It might still be wrapping.

The reality is there are so many different aspects of the changes to our family, to my role as a mom, and so I have just been trying to go slow, have grace for myself and others, and adjust to these changes. Almost daily, I think through what I hope to accomplish, and then somewhere around 11 am I realize I’m going to have to reset those expectations. Those would have fit with 4 kids all in school, but they don’t fit with twin teething babies or sleep deprivation or two chubby bodies on the move, even with help.

And my work plate has been very full with lots of different opportunities, but my quiet mornings of just writing have been fewer than I’d like. So I am taking this one to record the highlights of this year, since one day I’ll muse about this time, and like every twin mom I know I’ll say to myself, “That first year was a blur” and I’ll wish I had written it all down. So as a gift to my future self, I’m doing just that here.

Having twin babies is like drinking out of a fire hose every day. There is a lot of joy, and laughter and awe and amazement. But there isn’t a lot of rest. There were many, many moments this past year with a line of five urgent things that needed to get done right this second. It was triage. It was ER room-esque shifts, complete with a 12-hour cycle but without the days off. Moms with multiple kids know this feeling. When we had 3 kids 3 and under it was also stressful. But it was a different kind of stress. It was everyone in diapers, no one can get themselves a drink kind of stress.

Having big kids alongside baby wrangling is at once easier and harder. I had baby holders but also big kid schedules to run while I was in the baby trenches. I was coordinating with teachers and doctors and handy men and sitters and family and friends for rides, tests, homework, illnesses, playdates, birthdays and life at the same time as I was sleep deprived and empty and v v busy putting diaper cream on one baby while keeping the other one’s hands out of said diaper cream.

For a good two years my desires – writing and running and working – were slowed while I grew two humans. (And for the record, they were completely and totally worth it.) There was a lot of growing and stretching on the outside, and then on the inside as I had to say no to hard things, dig deep for patience often, cling to prayer, and put others first not once, or twice, but six times over.

This year has taught me so much about pouring yourself out, and about living life moment by moment. It’s surprising that no matter how hard your circumstances are, doing this really does yield joy and peace and a deeper happiness than I have ever known. And the best lesson of this year is celebrating the way that community helps us, and adds so much to our lives.

So here is a look back on some of the big moments of the past year. The ones that we lived through laughing, white knuckling, praying or celebrating. I never in my wildest dreams would have thought my life would look like this but I am so so grateful it does.

1. Birth Story: There was the end-of-a-twin-pregnancy chapter, which was a special endurance race the likes of which I have never encountered.

And then all of a sudden, they were born.

We knew that one of the twins was very likely to have Down syndrome from our testing done around week 13. I wrote about it here. But I was so overwhelmed with getting big at the end of the pregnancy, and the strain of every day, that the idea of one of them having Down syndrome receded.

But I remember laying on the c-section table, and hearing the first baby’s cry – it was Michael, and he was so beautiful!

And then I remember laying there, feeling the weirdness of them pulling a baby out of me, watching my husband’s eyes peer over the blue curtain, and when they had pulled the baby out, I knew from the change of his flicker that Ronan had Down syndrome. Then there was a cry, but also an odd silence from the medical team before they cheered this baby too. My husband whispered in my ear what I already knew. Ronan has Down syndrome.

And he was so stinking cute.

Right after he was born, Rob went over and looked into Ronan’s eyes, and he says he immediately stared into his soul. And most people who meet him say the same thing.

It turns out it’s pretty easy to love a baby with Down syndrome, because they are, um, a baby.

So the rest of the stay was a lot of snuggles and feeding and diaper changes. I didn’t love having a c-section, and as pragmatic as I am and believe the only thing that really matters is what is good for the baby(ies) I missed the way postpartum happens with a vaginal birth. But I was totally in love and in awe of our double blessing!

I worried when there were issues with Ronan feeding in the hospital though. He didn’t nurse well, and he didn’t bottle feed well. And there were issues when we got home. It would take an hour to give him 1-2 mls of milk. We were discharged on Day 4 and on Day 5 a visiting nurse came and spent 3 very unhelpful hours telling me that Ronan ‘just needed a longer nipple’. There was some concern that his body temp was 96 degrees, but I was scheduled to see the pediatrician the next day.

This picture was taken while we were waiting for the pediatrician, who came in and took his temperature, which was 95 degrees and said we needed to go to Boston Children’s Emergency Room right away. I was unprepared for this news, as my snapping the photo at this time may suggest.

2. The NICU + Surgery: Then we enter the chapter that could be called ‘health crisis’ and as anyone who has had one of these knows, they are stressful and hard and harrowing. Especially when you are recovering from a C-section, are nursing a newborn, and have four older kids at home.

But you get through a crisis through prayers, grace, love and the amazing support of neighbors and family. And we had so much faith and confidence in our doctors at Boston Children’s, and felt so fortunate at the success of Ronan’s pull-through surgery and placement of a g-tube. All those prayers helped!

Still, I was surprised at some of the PTSD that showed up months later. Like every time I saw the gauze pads I used to have to tape around his g-tube, or how how emotional I was this Halloween, remembering a year ago when Ronan was still in the hospital. You feel incomplete when you don’t get to take your baby home with you, when you are worried about vital statistics from an hour away and rely on amazing nurses to show your baby the care you want to give. I know many NICU parents describe this feeling. You don’t take having your baby home and healthy for granted after that.

In fact, Ronan’s whole stay opened my eyes to how many struggles other people go through. I wrote about this period here in this post entitled Love In A Time of NICU. Suffering is hard, but if it leads to compassion for other people that is beautiful.

3. Homecoming/Life with Two Babies: Ronan’s homecoming was so joyful and at the same time was the beginning of life taking care of two babies. The day after he was discharged, it was Sophie’s birthday. She just admitted to me last week, a year later, how hard it was to have a mom who just had her first night with two babies and was sleep deprived, how she really wanted a sleep over but we had to say no. Though I wished it hadn’t fallen on her birthday and the mom guilt storm brewed mightily, I know there is growth in her too from this experience, and her birthday this year included both a sleepover party and an iPod, so she has recovered, I think.

We hit our stride around Christmas…

There were still a lot of doctors appointments and sleepless nights but the joy of kids anticipating Christmas is enough to keep a sinking barge afloat, let alone a sleep-deprived mom of twins. I snapped the pic in the very center of this collage, with our little baby Jesus that was left in the diaper bag after a special blessing at church, as I waited for two hours (!) for a cardiologist to meet with us (he was cleared of a slight stenosis that had righted itself, thank God). It ended up being the center photo for the year, which sums it up nicely.

He was at the very center of our year, of our lives, which is where He should be. And why I felt so much joy.

4. Months 2-7: The Crunch

Overall, the hardest thing about this year was the sleep deprivation. I wrote about on another post (the sleep training one) but in short, my description is this:

There is an acute edge to sleep deprivation. It is subtle, incessant, fluid, crushing, quiet and loud at the same time. Everything you have in you that makes you strong is quiet; everything that overwhelms you and makes you cranky and sucks patience out of you is loud.

I am convinced a babies smiliest days coincide with the hardest days of sleep deprivation.

We also had one of the hardest weekends ever when both babies were admitted for pneumonia (Ronan) and bronchiolitis (Michael). I spent 7 hours in the ER on Saturday with Ronan and 6 hours with Michael on Sunday.

Though these babies didn’t sleep that well, they did travel well. They barely ever cried in the car since they always had siblings talking to them or handing them a bottle from the front. We took them to Florida and they did great on the plane!

We also had a lot of trips up to the White Mountains of NH, and to Maine, and they did so well driving in the car. Again big kids helped so much. So much easier than traveling with just little kids.

In reality, these months were very focused on keeping life going for big kids – as I pulled out these pictures of the twins, they were surrounded by pictures of basketball, skiing, eating, performing, dancing, baseball, lacrosse and swimming with our big kids. We didn’t slow down much.

The double twin stroller was a constant fixture in our community. As was the big black van. We survived on wheels and grace.

You might (or might not at all) remember that my husband travels for work. We got through this time with an au pair, but at this point in the year, we lost our trust in her after our dog went missing one weekend when we left her with the big kids for a wedding and she seemed…unconcerned. We very amicably suggested rematch and all learned a lot and still keep in touch.

5. Months 8-12: Flying Solo + More Sleep

Once they started to sleep more, I could breath, though early morning wake ups were still common which was hard when we flowed into the summer, and big kids were home with lots of energy and wanted to stay up late. We had a great summer sitter who helped us survive, and I couldn’t have done it without her since my husband had to travel a lot for work this year.

Signs that I lost my mind include getting an aquarium after a fair fish died:

And thinking the beach could be fun with twins. It is impossible alone, survivable with two adults, and a much much better idea to get a sitter for the babies and take the big kids, which is what I did a few times.

The thing that really helped us is joining a pool with lifeguards and bringing a playpen the babies could go in. They seemed to do great when they were outside, in the shade, with lots of toys. We brought that playpen everywhere – parties, the beach, BBQs, and the pool. It might be my #1 twin survival tool in addition to the Snap and Go stroller.

And then in August we got another au pair who has worked out great!

Even though it’s still hard and every day is fuuulllllll to the brim, I feel like a new chapter has started for all of us. One with sleep and actually getting dressed, and making plans that a year ago we wouldn’t have. We actually took them out to dinner and a parade this weekend and they did great, I actually got to enjoy both events as opposed to sweating I was working so hard.

I’ve heard that the next year is also a tough one with twins. Things like playgrounds and pools and malls are really hard, and now Ronan is very mobile and into everything too so I am happy/scared to report I think we will have two kids going in two directions.

Like every parent, the best things about this year is getting to know a new personality (or two). Michael is VERY determined, and very smart and surprisingly sweet. He is always giving the best hugs. Rob calls him Hudini because no matter what gate/chair/box you use to block him from something we will figure out a way to get around it. He said, ‘all done’ at 8 months when I was trying to teach him the baby sign – just skipped right over the hand gestures – and started walking at 10.5 months. He studies everything and is always looking around for who is having the most fun, and then makes a bee-line for that sibling. He is a man of action.

Ronan is such an observer, and surprises us all the time by showing he knows what’s going on. He can manipulate toys better than Michael, and figures out what do with them before his brother even sits down. He LOVES his bath. He also loves 5 am wake ups which were trying to dissuade him from liking. But now that he is crawling the world is his oyster. And I don’t think I have ever seen a human light up the way Ronan does when you pick him up, and then it’s the giggle jackpot if you tickle him.

Looking back, this year was the first one that mom guilt really ate at me. I think it’s just a part of having twins, since you can’t always give to both of them. I spend a lot of time sitting down on the floor so I can hold them both at the same time and they don’t see me holding one when they are reaching for me. I also feel a strange protection for each of them – when Ronan gets attention or I share about his Down syndrome, I’m trying to make sure the world knows how special I think Michael is too! And when Michael gives kids more reaction and they favor him, I’m like ‘Ronan will get there! He will be so reactive too once he gets to know you!’ So there’s a snap shot into my craziness for you, if you were wondering.

And I am always talking to the older ones about what they need, and trying to carve out special time with each one of them. But on the whole, their adoration for their baby brothers far outweighs any angst. Andrew especially could have felt a lot of growing pains, but he just loves the babies, and tells anyone he sees about them.

When I look back on this year, I have this throbbing nostalgia for how much my other kids have grown while I was so busy. Andrew being 5 is just blowing my mind, and RJ and Sophie are practically teenagers. Lucy is at the best age – 9 – where she is still holding on to girlhood while she tries on big kids qualities and develops the best sense of humor. It’s just the nature of drinking out a firehose that it’s harder to pay attention to what’s going on around it, but I am trying with all of my might, because I want to remember everything about them at these ages.

People are always asking me how I do it, and the answer is I don’t do it alone.

Love and grace got us through this past year. For the babies, for each other, for the unexpected gifts life brought all of us. God knows how to give the best gifts we don’t even know to ask for, and then he sends the grace to help carry them.

Life with six kids isn’t going to get easier any time soon, but I know that will keep carrying us through, and will keep bringing us so much joy.

Lots of people say we’re crazy (including our close friends!) but when I think about how much fun it is to love these people, I think it’s crazy not to love this many kids and having this much joy. They are so so worth it.

We love you Michael and Ronan!

A Year in the Life {Squared}

28 November, 2018/0 Comments/in humbleonion/by Katie