How I Met Your Father

Here's what I posted on my Facebook wall yesterday:

Put kids to bed mid show when we realized what time it was, recording it for tomorrow. Husband then grabs the remote and continues playing Sofia the First. I was like ??? And he was like, "But I want to know how it ends." Way #48 that you know you have all girls....

And this was true.  But my husband posted the following on his FB wall yesterday:

18 years ago yesterday, two somewhat confused kids sat down in a classroom underneath the Commons to have a clear-the-air talk...which resulted in unexpected confessions of admiration and desire...which led to dating and a courtship that may someday be chronicled in multiple volumes (but I hope not)...Happy Little Anniversary to my beloved Katie! I am so blessed to have found you!


And this is also true... made me blush after I realized about 40 people had "liked" this before I realized this post had been shared with the world.  The things you can do with Facebook, man!  :) So I decided to respond in kind and over-over share because... I have a blog.  Welcome to Volume One.  :D

I realized with some awe yesterday that I've now spent half my life with my parents, and half my life "with" Dan.  We celebrate the day we first started "going out" every year as our "petite anniversaire."  (It's a term I made up to get more flowers.)

This date got another layer of meaning when I had my first miscarriage five years ago on the same date; thus, I always ask our little Gabriel to pray for our relationship, and am very thankful for his intercession.

I've decided to elaborate on the original November 17th here, in a (very) loose "Top Ten" Style.

1.  The year was 1996, the fall thereof.  After years of agonizing about which college to attend, I had selected the tiny, beautiful, and (in the end) perfect (for me) institution of learning: Christendom College.  Having turned out a full scholarship to Providence College (which was pretty idiotic, but anyway), I was now set on my chosen career track: becoming a nun.

2.  Not that I didn't have some mixed feelings about the plan.  I was actually very smitten with a gentleman I'd left in Rhode Island.  But I didn't believe my feelings were reciprocated, and I virtuously thought I should separate myself from this distraction to my "calling."  Terribly homesick for my family and this friend at first, I would pray several tearful rosaries for them all while walking the fields and avoiding the nests of killdeers (yep, there's a link for that too, tee hee) while the following song ran through my head (cuz it was the 90's, y'all):

I wanted you to have all that sappiness, complete with random nature scene.  This will now stick in your brain for the next two days.  You're welcome.

Anyway, I figured that four years of theology amongst a couple hundred young Catholics would help me figure things out.  I also thought it would be healthy to live a more normal life (i.e. a non-homeschooled existence) prior to my religious life.

3.  I moved on campus, and after a week of a set schedule of early rising, daily Mass, praying the Office, going to bed by nine PM, and doing laundry every afternoon at 2:15 PM, I figured I was ready to partake a bit in college life.  Thus I embarked upon the terrifying mission of attending the first dance of the year: the luau, on the sand of the volleyball court.  Which with the surrounding field, could pretty much accommodate the entire student body of 200 student bodies.

4.  First things first: I ask my roommate: "What's a luau?"  My poor roommate received a lot of such questions that first year.  "And what do we wear?"

"Hawaiian, Katie.  Something colorful.  Gotta go..."

With all the confident fashion sense of a homeschooler of the 90's, I selected my outfit:  I had a felt-like jacket of dark blue, green, and maroon (oh, I'm suffering just typing this) and stretchy pants.  Yep, I think that's what I wore.  And black shoes.  Oh.  Oh dear.  Oh.

5.  I wandered off across the dark campus to the blazing lights and sounds of the volleyball court turned dance hall, staring at the happy couples doing the lindy-hop version of swing dancing the college was known for.  Just sorta timidly stood on the sidelines till I caught the attention of a "shark," or one of the bachelors who'd graduated long ago but kinda hung around college events.

He asked me to dance.  I said, "Okayyy I guess... I really have no idea how to, though."

6.  I don't think he believed me, but I was quite serious.  I couldn't dance.  I was too scared to actually move to music, too stiff with decorum and shyness to have any sense of how this all worked.

Quickly tiring of helping this particular damsel in distress, my bored partner decided to introduce me to my future husband.  "Hey wait, this guy can teach ya...."

7.  It was definitely "huh" at first sight.  We matched at least.  Dan was wearing a large black t-shirt with an oriole prominently displayed over his chest.  It was this, but on a black background.

Dan could dance, well.  He'd been dancing with pretty much every upper class gal on the court already.  But I'm not 100% sure he ever looked at me, at any point during the dance.

"Oh, teach her?  Okay, sure sure.  Here we go."

Some song was starting.  I was being moved very quickly, my arms pulled in various directions.  I couldn't breathe.  I was stepping all over my own tied black shoes and his high-top sneakers.

"Loosen up, just loosen up, follow my lead."  I obediently stumbled my response.

Dan jived.  I tried.  "Man you're stiff!" he chuckled.  I mumbled an apology.  I kept looking up at this guy's face, all sweaty and excited, with eyes that kept sweeping the crowd, looking for his friends.  I was all like "???!!"  And he was like "...and chachacha... Hi!  Wait, I'll be right there...  Just teaching a freshman..."

His current response to my teasing on this important life moment is, "Well if I knew I was dancing with my future wife, I would have paid a lot more attention."

We were both relieved when the song ended.  Dan disappeared into the crowd, and I disappeared into my dorm to catch my breath, and feel the peaceful conviction of my chosen celibate vocation. Ah yes.  Home sweet silence.  Evening prayer...

8.  Over the next weeks, I focused on doing things I thought God would like me to do.  I joined the pro-life group, the rosary and altar society, the Legion of Mary, the choir... pretty much every group that would let me in.  And I was on the lookout to people to be Christ-like to.  And Dan readily presented himself as one of these people, as he was pretty much always on the girls' side of campus.  You see, Christendom is neatly divided into the girls' side and boys' side of campus, with a chapel in the middle.  But until curfew at midnight, we could all wander about as we pleased.

One afternoon while ironing one of my many ankle-length skirts, I heard sharp taps on my dorm window. This was particularly surprising since I was on the second floor.  My roommate jumped up with glee to look at the window:

"Hey look, that Dancause guy is rocking our window!"

"What does that mean?"  My poor roommate... I was exasperatingly clueless.  She was already hollering down for the message.

"KATIE!  HE WANTS TO TALK TO YOU!!"

I blanched.  I blushed.  I was all ???!!!!  My roommate chortled "Oooooo Katie, you should have told me..."  I mumbled that I had no idea what this was about...  "Oh just go down!"

"Uh, okay.  I'll finish ironing later, I guess."

I descended the stairs, opened the door, and in my most casual voice said, "What can I do for you?"

He grinned.  "Wanna take a walk?"

"A walk?"

"Yup.  A walk.  Have you seen the trails?"

"What trails?"

"Trails.  In the woods.  I'll show you.  C'mon."

"Uh.  Okay."

All I could think of as I followed this guy out into the woods was that despite the fact that I was in a select Catholic college, my mother would be absolutely horrified that I was about to walk with a young man, alone, in the woods.  Even on trails that led to "Our Lady's Overlook" and "Visio Pacis."  I puzzled as to why he was here, since it wasn't as if I had made any impression on him but "shy, awkward dancer."

Turns out, the two other gals Dan had originally come to see were not in their dorms, and the man figured he'd see who else was in.  And I was "in."  So I got invited on a walk.

Nobly swinging a stick to reduce the chance of us walking into spider webs, Dan offered excessive help in making sure I got over fallen logs, sticks, and twigs, so I took his hand a lot that day.  I loosened up enough to talk about such avant-garde topics as professors, classes, the quality of cafeteria food, the comparative beauty of various languages, and so on.

9.  In following weeks, he came to intentionally rock my window for trail walks, and rosary walks down the long path in front of the campus.  And all these mild pleasantries continued until one day, a good girl friend of mine before (and after) this event informed me that "That nice guy Dan is taking me on a long road trip.  So I guess I'll see you later!"

And I had the strangest reaction to this news.  I was... jealous.  And, darn it, I realized I liked this guy, which was not the plan.  Like at all.  And I couldn't shake the feeling.  Darn it.  With a college as small as this one, you saw everyone everyday, so there was no avoiding him.  Even his workstudy was in the very center of campus: the mailroom, where he could handily chat with everyone as they collected their letters.  (As you can tell, my husband is the introvert of the family.)

So, I did what any shy homeschooled gal would have done: I wrote him a letter about it.  Then I tore that one up and wrote another one.  And repeated this process.  When I read the final draft, I realized I would be extremely uncomfortable simply handing this dumb "I like you and I don't know what to do about that" letter to him... I'd just have to tell him and get it over with.  Gulp.

10.  So on November 17th, shortly after he returned from taking my friend on the road trip to see her family, I told Dan I needed to talk to him about something.  Naturally, he thought this was very (very) interesting.

Only trouble was, I just couldn't bring myself to say it.  I hemmed and hawed and changed the topic till curfew, when we found ourselves sitting in a classroom, with me out of excuses to talk about "it."

Finally, Dan made it easy.  He sighed and said, "Well, I do have something to tell you while I'm waiting for what you're going to say: For the past few weeks, I've been trying my darndest not to fall in love with you."

So I said, "Oh.  I've been doing the same thing."

No, no, you don't need to look away friends... Here's what happened next: I just sat there. Wringing my hands.  Smiling back at Dan.  And I asked, "So... what changes now?"

"Nothing!"  Dan was chuckling.  "Nothing has to change.  This is just fine."

And he walked me back to my dorm.  And that was how we started "dating," and the beginning of our life as a couple.  Didn't kiss the guy till St. Patrick's Day.  But that's a whole other story... ;)

"Truly, O God of Israel, our Savior, you work in mysterious ways."  Isaiah 45:15

Linked to Many Little Blessings, Titus 2sdays, Finding Heaven, and Far Above Rubies

Love, Respect, Duct Tape and Self Control

1.  "God, grant me the courage to put down this stupid Pirate Booty!" was my most recent prayer.  But things went downhill from there.  Steeling myself to lock them in the cupboard, I found chocolate chips.  Beside the peanut butter.

So I will type during my snack break here.  Dinner is boiling--I'm Irish; I boil things--it's hissing as it overflows a bit.  Have to get that.  From upstairs the sounds of a escalating disagreement can be heard, primarily the phrase "not fair."  My poor children have been sentenced to tidy up their room, and seem to invent arguments so that interventions delay the process.  Today, I'm not biting the bait.  But this snack on the other hand...

The peanut butter is basically empty.  Would you tell anyone if I told you I just dumped a half cup of chocolate chips in there, and am eating it from the jar with a spoon?  No, I'm sure you wouldn't... thanks. ;)

2.  I'm a wee bit stressed, you see.  Not just because it's the witching hour(s): everyone's tired, but dinner's not quite ready, hubby's not quite home, the house is not quite (ever) clean, and my mind is not quite "all there."  We just got back from a farm where we pet animals 

AND had a hayride 

AND did a corn maze 

AND picked pumpkins

AND did a craft while eating apples, throwing the cores to the cows. 

I get a Mommy "A" for all that, I'm sure.  But now, I'm tired.

3.  And tonight is date night!  I can't count the number of times I've been all "Yayyyy date night!  Actual adult talk time!" and charged through the day, then rushed to feed and dress the kids, and clean for the sitter (well, as much as possible), returning this phone call and that email, and then finally find myself driving away with the Dancause and absolutely, totally falling asleep.  Communicating in lifeless grunts, not able to think of a single interesting thing to say in my exhaustion.  Sliding into the (very real) version of myself who with sublime intentions buys the perfect occasion card well in advance... but then forgets the birthday all together, or remembers but then finds it utterly impossible to successfully unite pen, envelope, stamp, address, and mail box.

Marriage is challenging.  Marriage as parents is even more so.  So...

4.  Through a miraculous alignment of Orion and the Washing Machine (read further for explanation), I found three sets of sitters so that spouse and I could go on a day-long "Marriage Renewal" day last weekend, featuring the (very good) book "Love and Respect."  The basic premise of the work is that men need respect like women need love.  In spots, it's quite brilliant.

Since college days, Dan and I have had a habit of doodling notes to each other in the middle of class.  Glancing over, I noticed he'd marked down "My use of duct tape" under respect.  Instantly remembering a particularly broken window repair, I loudly guffawed and...

You know when you think someone's telling a joke, and you rofl, and then you lol as you realize they aren't smiling quite as much as you thought they would and then, j/k, wasn't laughing because they were serious... wth?.. oops.

Turned into a good conversation.  Found out I could offer "unconditional respect" on the creativity displayed in my man's use of duct tape (shower repair, house plant support, etc.) while not necessarily liking the end result of the work.  I could do both.  I can at least try. Also ended up talking about

5.  Sports.  Like stuff that ends in "ball."  Yeahhhh.... I have issues with those things.  Even when "my" home team is in the World Series, I'd pretty much still rather watch paint dry than sit through a game.  I'm envious of the excitement evident on play-by-play Facebook stati.... I'm just missing the gene I guess.   Or maybe just experiencing the effects of being raised "anti-sport," as in "sports are a secular religion and thou shalt not care." If only that were more of an exaggeration...

But back to respect... while realizing I will likely never share this male interest in what happens with balls, I can avoid "contempt of sports."  Which probably defines my attitude: if I'm not playing it, and no one I know is either, why am I watching this?  Well, again, I can try.  Room for improvement.  And hubby will cultivate an interest in flower arrangement in return.  :D

6.  Similar room for improvement can be found in my attitude towards NFP I've been realizing this week, especially after reading Simcha's book.   I won't give away the punch lines here, but it sure helps refocus one's stance.

Cuz in general... I'd kinda been looking at NFP like a rope bridge I have to cross once a month.  It works really effectively if you know what you're doing, but it can be frightening as Hades while getting there and adjusting to the gaps and sways of it all.  Particularly when you're learning some new cycle trick and trying to maneuver the blasted thing while trying to avoid both pregnancy and mortal sin.  At times, this means you can only have sex while really scared or stressed over whether you've charted right or not.  Which stinks.  Especially when, say, you are taking some weird med and really (really) can't get preggo right now.  Terrifying.  Much more so when you look down.  So you learn to look Up as much as possible.  Which reminds me...

7.  I apparently lied about the moon, enthusiastically, on my Facebook page.  At least according to the jocular message left on my machine a couple days back.  No, I didn't: I was merely duped by a bigger blogger, so blame her.  Just because it was so slight that you could barely detect any shadow at all, an eclipse is an eclipse, no matter how... faint?  In any case, it was GORGEOUS!  Here, my I-Phone will attempt to show you:

So much better in person!  I tried.  I even lay prostrate before the Temple of Music (with a van of screaming kids parked beside me) to try to capture the glowing orb better... still ended up only looking like a small disc.... Just take my word for it, it rocked.  God is awesome.  Love how it says, "He tells the number of the stars; He calls all of them by name." Ps. 147:4

So I get all excited about celestial events, despite that fact that I'm not well-versed in astronomy. Heck, I didn't know what a constellation was until I was in 7th grade, on my home-schooled substitute to a father-daughter dance: dinner at a Chinese restaurant.  Happened to see three stars in a perfect row, and so learned about Orion's Belt.  Just thought star pictures and meteor showers were sooo cool from then on...

Also thought this guy in college I met was sooo cool because he wanted to show me the "Washing Machine" constellation.  Took me out in a field and spent quite a while trying to get me to see it.  Never did.  Did end up marrying him though.  

Currently, I really respect that he's taking me out to a TV-free section of a TV-laden restaurant, to talk about "us" instead of watching the World Series game.  Thanks hon.  I confidently assert you've chosen the better part.

Judging from the Facebook comments, they lost anyway.  Having never felt such sorrows myself, I don't know what to say to Red Sox Nation... hopefully a simple "I'm sorry" will suffice.  And I am sorry... the general mood of the neighborhood just sunk considerably.  Goooo get 'em Sox!!!   Better luck on Saturday!  (This is me, trying.)

Linked to Seven Quick Takes

Top Ten Reasons to Read "Sinner's Guide to NFP"

10.  Because you hate NFP, and think no one should be on such an arduous system because it doesn't work.  

9.  Because you hate NFP, and think only God should plan when it comes to fertility.

8.  Because you hate NFP from years of charting the progress of being miserable, personally and as a couple.

7.  Because you love NFP, and can't comprehend why everyone doesn't love it as much as you do.

6.  Because you want to love (or at least unhate) NFP, and want to notice a temperature spike on any kind of happiness in a system full of charts, thermometers, and--er--"goop."

5.  Because you think non-Catholics have sooo much more fun than we plodding prudes.  Or you don't personally know any non-Catholics, and thus couldn't say one way or the other...

4.  Because you need inspiration and further understanding of what God requires of us.

3.  Because your marriage is imperfect and could use ideas for improvement (or because your marriage is perfect, and you just want to gloat.)

2.  Because you just need a good laugh.  Or because you need a good cry.

1. To know you are NOT alone.

This is the book I've been waiting for and wanting all my married life.  And 12 years into that blessed vocation, I finally got it!  "Sinner's Guide" was a book that absolutely had to be written.  I was worried it might have to be me... and I'm not mellow enough to tackle something this controversial in book form yet.  Three cheers for Simcha!  :)

Managing somehow to be absolutely inspiring while remaining plainly hilarious, employing the most refreshing honesty coupled with the most charitable fairness, Mrs. Fisher addressed all of the major issues of the "joys" of NFP that, prior to this book, I'd only heard whispered late at mom's nights out with cocktails.  

I ordered this book on a Saturday, and immediately drove to a "new" playground so my four kids would be distracted as my husband and I read it together.  As they wearied of that playground, we drove to another.  Three in total.  

I haven't smiled this much about NFP... ever.

It's not even that any of the info was new to us.  Both hubby and I have majors in theology (from an orthodox Catholic university to boot).  It's simply that now there's a book publicly stating the collective private worries, fears, and misgivings of a couple generations of well-meaning, practicing Catholics.  Married folks who want to be holy and "do the right thing," but found that "doing the right thing" sometimes made them feel anything but holy.  A pair of disgruntled malcontents perhaps, but not holy.  

Good Catholic gal that I've always been, I had written papers on the glories of NFP since high school.  Upon getting engaged (and not a moment before), I dutifully signed up for the local NFP class. Unbeknownst to me, I was taught a variation of the rhythm method instead.  And six months of considerable carefulness into marriage, while studying for the degrees we planned to use to earn a living, I had a positive pregnancy test.  

"Betrayed" doesn't begin to describe how I felt.  I had done everything "right," and suddenly I was a mom at 23, when I'd hoped to first work on marriage and saving money (we had nothing) and curing some health issues. While I never regretted our beautiful baby, I very much resented the timing, as our carefullly laid plans of getting a home and jobs were thrown to the wind.  We hurridly finished off half our masters' degrees, and a month later had our baby at 32 weeks gestation.  I took another NFP course.  But I was nursing, and the teacher we had was from the same organization I learned from before.  18 months later, again while carefully charting as best I knew how, we were pregnant again.

So we had a crash course in parenthood, and our financial situation has remained challenging to this day...for instance, just this morning I fielded a phone call from our student loan company.  Yep, still from what we owe from my attempts at finishing grad school when I became a mom instead in 2002.

I never did get back to work like I'd planned.  But as Simcha illustrates in this book: by being obedient to God's will, we have been blessed in ways I would never have chosen, but would now never want to be without.

I finally found a teacher who knew the system, and had six years of "just" two kids before we expanded our family by two more.  And just for good measure, I took the course one more time, and love Creighton style best of all.  

But I still struggled, and at best have only come to a resigned disgust with the system.  The well-meaning "encouragement" of other women of how "NFP really brings you together as a couple.  Really!" did not help at all. (Particularly when such pep-talks were coming from those beyond child-bearing years, who only remembered having kids as "the best time of their lives.")  Very few were willing to admit the simple truth: that NFP can be very difficult to learn, very difficult to practice, and only through God's grace and significant trial and error will a couple begin to see the elusive benefits promised at pre-Cana class.  

Simcha does a spectacular job of describing how all these NFP benefits (improved communication!  increased understanding!  deeper appreciation!) can be true, but they don't come automatically, and can be very far from the truth in the learning stages of the game.  Especially when most of us are given  bright pink glasses beforehand, and only in practice find out the incredible amounts of sacrifice required to practice NFP and maintain sanity.

While I still hope further studies in fertility will someday make this system less arduous, thanks to this guide for sinners, I am again inspired to look at NFP more positively, even as the system is today.

I absolutely loved the non-judgmental nature of this book, the demonstration of the fact that you just (really!) never know someone else's situation, and so should never attempt to decide for someone else whether they should have more or less kids, that they should be "providentialist" or "NFPers."  That such decisions really involve a personal, daily, (and yes, monthly) discernment of God's will.

Thank you, Simcha.  Thank you for saying, out loud that NFP can absolutely stink sometimes.  That was utterly refreshing to hear publicly... after years of being silenced and shamed into thinking "I should be so happy with this," it was great to have someone call a luteal phase a luteal phase. On a scale of 2 to 10, I give you a 10S! :) And thank you, even more, for highlighting the heart of the whole matter: the creature's submission to the Creator's plan. 

I will never forget your depiction of God's conditional will for us, as a Father who says, "Okay, let's see what we can do with the choice you've made" in a way that makes the best of it.  I can't wait to see what He does with your work.  Keep it up.  :)

Linked to Many Little Blessings, Moxie Wife, and This, That, and the Other Thing

A dozen years

If I speak with the tongues of men and of angels, but yet am not making sense, I am likely in need of more sleep.  If I have the gift of prophecy and can fathom all the mysterious things my children do while quiet, and if I have faith that, one day, I will get eight hours of straight sleep... but do not have love, I am nothing.  If I give all the time I possess to poor cooking and my body over to non-stop nursing, but do not have love, I am nothing. 

But I am not nothing. :)

Today my husband and I celebrate twelve years of wedded life.  We welcomed the day in by watching Princess Bride until midnight, and later we will be actually going away for 24 hours, thanks to the help of my parents and some wonderful friends.

Dan, it's not how I imagined it would be. But in the immortal words of "Lego House":  

"I think I love you better, now."

"In this the love of God was made manifest among us, 
that God sent his only Son into the world, 

so that we might live through him. 
In this is love, not that we have loved God 

but that he loved us and sent his Son 
to be the propitiation for our sins. 

Beloved, if God so loved us, we also ought to love one another.  

No one has ever seen God; but if we love one another, 

God lives in us and his love is made complete in us." 1 John 4:9-12