Contents

Cast of Characters Building a Life

WAK I NG U P

xiii 1

Sisters 11 Holy Holes On Writing and Dancing Day One Chutes and Ladders In Case of Emergency Inhale, Exhale Smelly Coughy Guy
COMMI T T IN G

13 23 27 33 39 51 55

Birthdays 61 Lucky Seven Out to Lunch 67 73 Fireworks 69

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Airing Our Dirty Laundry On Weaving and Repentance SuckerOn Vacuuming

75 85 89

Initiation 77

Easter 93 Unwind 105

MULT I P LY I NG

Dont Carpe Diem A Little Advice Brave Is a Decision Whatever, Honestly One, Two, Three A Mountain Im Willing to Die On On Fish and Heaven Officer Superhero On Gifts and Talents Mommy Do-Little The Golden Coin Closer to Fine

111 117 121 125 129 137 145 155 161 165 173 177

Rejoicing 133

Transcendentalist 149

Contents

H OL D I NG O N

On Crying and Pedaling

183

Namaste 189 Hard 193 What DYa Know? On Profanity Gifts Are Bridges Room for One More
L ET T I NG G O

199 201 207 219

Hostressing 213

Treasure Hunt Wherever You Go There You Are Healing Is Listening It Will Be Beautiful By God, There Will Be Dancing

225 233 241 245 253 265

Jubilee 229

Acknowledgments 267

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Don't Carpe Diem

very time Im out with my kids, this seems to happen: An older woman stops us, puts her hand over her heart and says something like, Oh Enjoy every moment. This time goes by so fast. Everywhere I go, someone is telling me to seize the moment, raise my awareness, be happy, enjoy every second, etc., etc., etc. I know that this advice comes from a good place and is offered with the very best of intentions. But I have finally allowed myself to admit that it just doesnt work for me. It bugs me. This CARPE DIEM message makes me paranoid and panicky. Especially during this phase of my life while Im raising young kids. Being told, in a million different ways, to CARPE DIEM makes me worry that if Im not in a constant state of profound gratitude and ecstasy, Im doing something wrong. I think parenting young children (and old ones too, Ive heard) is a little like climbing Mount Everest. Brave, adventurous souls try it because theyve heard theres magic in the climb. They try because they believe that finishing, or even attempting the climb, is an impressive accomplishment. They try because during the climb, if they allow themselves to pause and lift their eyes and minds from the pain and drudgery, the views are breathtaking. They try because even though it hurts and its hard, there are moments that make it worth the hard. These moments are so
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intense and unique that many people who reach the top start planning, almost immediately, to climb again. Even though any climber will tell you that most of the climb is treacherous, exhausting, killer. That they cried most of the way up. And so I think that if there were people stationed, say, every thirty feet along Mount Everest yelling to the climbers, ARE YOU ENJOYING YOURSELF!? IF NOT, YOU SHOULD BE! ONE DAY YOULL BE SORRY YOU DIDNT ! TRUST US!! ITLL BE OVER TOO SOON! CARPE DIEM! those wellmeaning, nostalgic cheerleaders might be physically thrown from the mountain. Now Im not suggesting that the sweet old ladies who tell me to ENJOY MYSELF be thrown from a mountain. They are wonderful ladies, clearly. But last week, a woman approached me in the Target line and said the following: Sugar, I hope you are enjoying this. I loved every single second of parenting my two girls. Every single moment. These days go by so fast. At that particular point in time, Amma was wearing a bra she had swiped from the cart and sucking a lollipop she undoubtedly found on the ground. She also had three shoplifted clip-on neon feathers stuck in her hair. She looked exactly like a contestant from Toddlers and Tiaras. A losing contestant. I couldnt find Chase anywhere, and Tish was sucking the pen on the credit card machine WHILE the woman in front of me was trying to use it. And so I just looked at the woman, smiled, and said, Thank you. Yes. Me too. I am enjoying every single moment. Especially this one. Yes. Thank you. Thats not exactly what I wanted to say, though. When Dorothy Parker was asked if she loved writing, she replied, No. But I love having written. What I wanted to say to this sweet woman was, Are you sure? Are you sure you dont mean you love having parented ?
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I love having written. And I love having parented. My favorite part of each day is when the kids are put to bed and Craig and I sink into the couch to watch some quality TV, like Wife Swap, and congratulate each other on a job well done. Or a job done, at least. Every time I write something like this, readers suggest that Im being negative. I have received this particular message four or five times: G, if you cant handle the three you have, why do you want a fourth? That one always stings, and I dont think its quite fair. Parenting is hard. Just like lots of important jobs are hard. Why is it that the second a mother admits that its hard, people feel the need to suggest that maybe shes not doing it right? Or that she certainly shouldnt add more to her load. Maybe the fact that its so hard means she IS doing it right, in her own way, and she happens to be honest. Craig is a software salesman. Its a hard job in this economy. He comes home each day and talks a little bit about how hard it is. But I dont ever feel the need to suggest that hes not doing it right, or that hes negative for noticing that its hard, or that maybe he shouldnt even consider taking on more responsibility. And I doubt his colleagues come by his office to make sure hes ENJOYING HIMSELF. Im pretty sure his boss doesnt peek in his office and say: This career stuff, it goes by so fast. ARE YOU ENJOYING EVERY MOMENT IN THERE, CRAIG???? THE FISCAL YEAR FLIES BY!! CARPE DIEM, CRAIG! My point is this: I used to worry that not only was I failing to do a good enough job at parenting, but that I wasnt enjoying it enough. Double failure. I felt guilty because I wasnt in parental ecstasy every hour of every day and I wasnt MAKING THE MOST OF EVERY MOMENT like the mamas in the parenting magazines seemed to be doing. I felt guilty because honestly,
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I was tired and cranky and ready for the day to be over quite often. And because I knew that one day, Id wake up and the kids would be gone, and Id be the old lady in the grocery store with my hand over my heart. Would I be able to say I enjoyed every moment? No. But the fact remains that I will be that nostalgic lady. I just hope to be one with a clear memory. And heres what I hope to say to the younger mama gritting her teeth in line: Its helluva hard, isnt it? Youre a good mom, I can tell. And I like your kids, especially that one peeing in the corner. Shes my favorite. Carry on, warrior. Six hours til bedtime. And hopefully, every once in a while, Ill add, Let me pick up that grocery bill for ya, sister. Go put those kids in the van and pull on up. Ill have them bring your groceries out. Clearly, Carpe Diem doesnt work for me. I cant even carpe fifteen minutes in a row, so a whole diem is out of the question. Heres what does work for me: There are two different types of time. Chronos time is what we live in. Its regular time. Its one minute at a time, staring down the clock until bedtime time. Its ten excruciating minutes in the Target line time, four screaming minutes in time-out time, two hours until Daddy gets home time. Chronos is the hard, slowpassing time we parents often live in. Then theres Kairos time. Kairos is Gods time. Its time outside of time. Its metaphysical time. Kairos is those magical moments in which time stands still. I have a few of those moments each day, and I cherish them. Like when I actually stop what Im doing and really look at Tish. I notice how perfectly smooth and brownish her skin is. I notice the curves of her teeny elf mouth and her almond brown eyes, and I breathe in her soft Tishy smell. In these moments, I
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see that her mouth is moving, but I cant hear her because all I can think is: This is the first time Ive really seen Tish all day, and my Godshe is so beautiful. Kairos. Or when Im stuck in Chronos time in the grocery line and Im haggard and angry at the slow checkout clerk. But then I look at my cart and Im transported out of Chronos. I notice the piles of healthy food Ill feed my children to grow their bodies and minds, and I remember that most of the worlds mamas would kill for this opportunity. This chance to stand in a grocery line with enough money to pay. And I just stare at my cart. At the abundance. The bounty. Thank you, God. Kairos. Or when I curl up in my cozy bed with my dog, Theo, asleep at my feet and Craig asleep by my side, and I listen to both of them breathing. And for a moment I think, How did a girl like me get so lucky? To go to bed each night surrounded by this breath, this love, this peace, this warmth? Kairos. These Kairos moments leave as fast as they come, but I mark them. I say the word Kairos in my head each time I leave Chronos. And at the end of the day, I dont remember exactly what my Kairos moments were, but I remember I had them. That makes the pain of the daily parenting climb worth it. If I had a couple Kairos moments, I call the day a success. Carpe a couple of Kairoses a day. Good enough for me.

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Carry On, Warrior contains essays previously published on momastery.com as well as new material.
Lyrics on page 111 from HALLELUJAH 1985 Sony/ATV Music Publishing LLC. All rights administered by Sony/ATV Music Publishing LLC, 8 Music Square West, Nashville, TN 37203. Excerpt from On Self-Respect from SLOUCHING TOWARDS BETHLEHEM by Joan Didion. Copyright 1966, 1968, renewed 1996 by Joan Didion. Reprinted by permission of Farrar, Straus and Giroux, LLC, and by permission of the author.