In Which I Try to Stop Comparing and Start Embracing the Lives in Front of Me

One of my bad habits is comparing myself to other women. Lately, I have been reading a lot of blogs by women I consider similar to myself, thoughtful literate mothers who are raising their families in the Catholic Church. I learn so much from them about how they manage their time and responsibilities while nurturing their faith.

I gotta say, though, I allow myself to feel "left out," when I consider their large families and the time they spend homeschooling their children and creating home and nurturing friendships with like-minded women living similar lives. My life looks nothing like this. I start to feel inadequate, as if my life is less than theirs. This is, in the end, a kind of idolatry and a disregard for the One who called me by name into being.

Stories from Haiti: "The Dew Breaker"

My husband headed to bed before I did last night. Our sons are in New Brunswick for a few days at Rutgers Model Congress. So the house is quiet for once.  At my request,  my husband put the novel I am reading outside our bedroom door. A little light reading? he joked when I told him The Dew Breaker is the story of a torturer from Haiti who immigrated to Brooklyn.

So how have I ended up immersed in my second novel in as many weeks by Edwidge Danicat?

Keeping It Simple: Girls' Night In

Last night, five friends came over and we baked brownies together. My "menfolk" decided to make  themselves scarce: Greg took himself out to dinner, Gabe ordered Chinese and ate it in his room and Lucas fell asleep in his room (though he did come downstairs to lick the big mixing bowl first). While I had hoped to save my family's batch for an upcoming Jazz Coffeehouse at Lucas' school, this is the sight that greeted me when I finally woke up today.

Farewell, Fertility

Last night, I awakened at least four times due to tingling hands and feet and, frankly, stinky perspiration. As I live out my fiftieth year on the planet, I am experiencing that change of life that is the trade-off for the miraculous ability to nurture life inside me and give birth to children.

As a culture, we rightly celebrate women's fertility. A woman of child-bearing age is considered the most beautiful of all. Think Jennifer Lopez.  I've never looked anything like her, but the thing is, she is beautiful in this picture largely because she looks so fertile.