Living with little people keeps you young

Advertisers have tapped into a universal craving to stop the relentless ravages of time in the human body by pushing countless gimmicks to keep us youthful. These products keep us healthy but the secret fountain of youth is not a thing to buy but rather an attitude, an inner way of living in Christ.

Youth is not found in a bottle of vitamins or in a jar of face cream.

Youth is found when we connect with the source of all life deep within,in the ground of our being.

There are countless ways to connect with the Holy Spirit but as a mother, I discovered a secret, a secret few people seem to recognize.

Living with little people keeps you young.

Children live in the present moment, filled with awe at the discovery of a ladybug, fascinated with observing how sand spills through their fingers or completely absorbed as they create a clay sculpture. Mothers concentrate on giving love and nurture to their offspring but if we don’t allow our little ones to nurture us we can become tired, empty and even resentful.

An infant touches our hearts when we gaze into their guileless eyes but there is much more grace that we can receive if we relax and allow their their love to flow into us!

In the early, hectic years I would focus on trying to carve out quiet time to sit and replenish myself.

One day while nursing one of my babies, I experienced a powerful surge of love pouring into my heart from my baby to me. I started smiling, heaviness and exhaustion lifted and joy started to bubble up from deep within me! In fact I discovered how to let my infant’s love, in union with the Love of God,  fill me, replenish me, energize me and infuse my heart with a fountain of youth.

Oops: Words from a Mum of Nine

Forget about being efficent or productive when you are interacting with tiny children; you will save yourself hours of agitated frustration on your part and angry resistance from your little ones.- melanie jean juneau 

Art by Mary Cassat

Born: May 22, 1844, Allegheny, Pittsburgh, Pennsylvania, United States  Died: June 14, 1926, Paris, France

“My God! How Did She Get Herself Into That Mess?”

I am conundrum. A rather outmoded sort of woman, ridiculed by modern career women, vilified by the earth’s prophets of doom and sanctified by the religious right. I was the least likely candidate to have a lot of children.I mean, I had never even held a baby before my first born.You would think having nine children would have turned me into a frazzled wreck with a figure like the Pillsbury Dough Boy and a brain gone to mush, but I remain quite articulate, with a quirky sense of humour, standing at 5’1” and weighing in at 106 lbs. Not quite a rosy-cheeked, robust, matronly looking mother of a large brood.

Wen the words The Joy of Mothering popped into my head as a sub-title for my short stories, it was like an epiphany for me because those few words verbalize my experience living with little people. The very existence of a joyful mother of nine children seems to confound people. Embracing an outdated lifestyle on a traditional, small, family farm has been a struggle through confusion, guilt and even public condemnation to finally reach the point where I can now shout loudly,

“This is my call,

this is my vocation,

this is my witness to the world.”

After the birth of our fourth child, Michael and I struggled to understand exactly how we were meant to live our lives. We were discussing an article by an author whose main premise was that letting go of control and trusting in God was not some abstract principle but a day-to-day practical call that included the surrender of our fertility. Of course we practised natural family planning but I was one of those rare people who could conceive long before ovulation.

As my doctor said once, “Ah, I remember reading about a woman in New Zealand, two years ago, who conceived five days before ovulation.”

I raised my hand and chirped, “Well, you can add me to that list!”

Although we could not imagine how large our family would become, the words of that article resonated within both my husband and I. Guilt lifted off us and a surge of excitement, a sense of purpose welled up from within. Although it took time to really believe that none of our children were simply a failure of the natural family planning method. Many small experiences kept reinforcing the truth for us that God called each of our children into being with our co-operation. We’d stumbled blindly at times and then a burst of clarity would shine light on our purpose.

For example, twenty-five years ago, I once again slipped into panic mode, worrying if I was pregnant with my fifth child. Suddenly a wave of peace enveloped me and my whole body relaxed.

I heard these words within me,

“This is your call.

This is your vocation.

This is your witness to the world.”

All sorts of objections rushed into my head,

” What on earth do you mean a witness, a witness to what?- stupidity? People don’t understand. They just think we are irresponsible or idiots……”

Then unexpected joy bubbled within me and I sensed these words in my spirit,

“I am with you.”

Once again a blanket of peace wrapped like a blanket around me. It was an actual physical sensation. My mind was calm and my spirit felt strong.

That was it for me; I understood and I said,

“Yes”.

Though I still cringed under disapproval from society, I always understood that my children were saving me by compelling me to dive deeper into my spirit, discovering the power of eternal Love at my core. A love that can stand strong against all opposition

Is a Mother’s Life Her Own?

Is it true that once you have a child, you life is not your own?

A child’s whole world revolves around his mother for at least 3 years. In fact infants have no sense of an identity separate from their mother till after the “terrible two” are over. The bonding  between mother and baby is incredible; a baby’s cry is specifically designed to upset and jump-start  Mum into rushing to her infant. The milk let down reflex is even triggered by a cry which can be embarrassing if we dawdle.

This is not social conditioning; new mothers are startled to discover the joy, strong bonds and fierce protective instincts that spring into action the moment they hold their newborn. I had never held a baby, felt completely inadequate but the moment I cuddled my first-born I WAS a mother.

The first 20 minutes are crucial; having Dad in the birthing room and holding their new offspring is the reason fathers are more active in child rearing. I do not believe it is because 0f feminist influences. It is because fathers have bonded with their babies.

And the baby is wired to start this bonding practice. Nurses will point out to new parents that their newborn quickly turns towards the voices of their mother, father, siblings and even grandparents. Babies are focused on eyes and faces. Initially they can only see for about 8″ which is how far Mother’s face is while they nurse and are held.An infant’s rooting reflex kicks into gear moments after birth. Not only that, their instinctual hand grip is almost impossible to pry open.

This is not some anti-feminist rant. Even rabbits have an almost mystical bond with their babies. Baby bunnies put into a  water proof cage were submerged 50 feet down in a body of water yet the mother rabbit KNEW exactly when they woke up and cried out for her.

A demanding role for mothers but the sheer joy that comes with the job is incredible. There is nothing like it.

Scripture: John 12:24-26

24 Truly, truly, I say to you, unless a grain of wheat falls into the earth and dies, it remains alone; but if it dies, it bears much fruit.  25  He who loves his life loses it, and he who hates his life in this world will keep it for eternal life.

By dying I did find life in Him. 

S

Interruptions?

encountering the divine in the mundane

Maybe interruptions are actually your real work!

Once Henri Nouwen S.J. (Jesuit author, university prof) complained to God about all the students who came to his office, interrupting his writing of an important book. God’s answer?
“I just gave you that book to write to keep you busy in between appointments; your real work is all those interruptions."
No matter what our occupation, we tend to think that our work, our agenda is important. It is almost in our nature to let ambition and drive push other people to the fringes of our awareness while we toil in an isolated bubble of self-importance. There are many methods that can shake us out of this selfish obsession but for me as a mother, it was my children.
"Mum, mum! Come see what I made!"
"Can you read me a book?"
"I tried and tried but it just won't stay together."
"Mum, can we talk?"
"Would you help me edit this essay? It's due tomorrow."
"Let's do something together."
Of course sometimes children need to learn patience, learn to wait but I discovered that usually their needs were immediate. Even if a problem seemed minor to me, it was monumental to one of my little people. A block tower which took 30 minutes to construct and 30 seconds for a toddler to destroy was equivalent to an adult's business deal that took 3 weeks to establish and a day to fall apart. Brushing off their concerns was often a temptation.
"Oh, it's nothing. Don't over react."
"Not now. I am busy."
"Can't you see that what I am doing is more important?"
To respond to my kids or in the case of any adult, to respond to interruptions to important work, requires surrendering to the duty of the moment. To respond to an interruption often means we must put our agenda to the side for a moment and embrace the agenda of another person. If we refuse the call to love, we miss out on an encounter with the divine because when we serve the least of our brethren, we serve Christ himself.

The Fountain of Youth

Youth is not found in a bottle of vitamins or in a jar of face cream.

Advertizers have tapped into a universal craving to stop the relentless ravages of time in the human body by pushing countless gimmicks to keep us youthful. These products keep us healthy but the secret fountain of youth is not a thing to buy but rather an attitude, an inner way of living.

Mortals were created to connect with the light and energy of the unseen, the invisible Force/ Higher Power/ God who created them. I am not so arrogant as to believe that only one spirituality works. In fact many who call themselves atheists are in fact spiritual people in communion with nature They commune with the Spirit who infuses nature with his energy. Without this connection to the Holy Spirit we slowly become depleted of energy, drive and goodwill. And nothing, absolutely nothing can fill this hollow well within us but the Spirit of God.

There are countless ways to connect with the Spirit but as a mother, I discovered a secret, a secret few people seem to recognize. Living with little people keeps you young. Children live in the present moment, filled with awe at the discovery of a ladybug, fascinated with observing how sand spills through their fingers or completely absorbed as they create a clay sculpture. Mothers concentrate on giving love and nurture to their offspring but if we don't allow our little ones to nurture us we can become tired, empty and even resentful.

An infant touches our hearts when we gaze into their guileless eyes but there is much more grace that we can receive if we relax and allow their their love to flow into us! In the early, hectic years I would focus on trying to carve out quiet time to sit and replenish myself. One day while nursing one of my babies, I experienced a powerful surge of love pouring into my heart from my baby to me. I started smiling, heaviness and exhaustion lifted and joy started to bubble up from deep within me!In fact I discovered how to let my infant's love fill me. replenish me. energize me and infuse my heart with a fountain of youth.

I AM An Advocate

Today's prompt for the health blogging marathon I signed up for (blindly, I should add), asks how I have changed as an activist or advocate. My first response was to sputter,

" I am not an advocate  for anything!"

Then I experienced an epiphany of sorts,

"Hey, wait a minute. I stand up for large families in an often hostile society!"

In my experience as a mother of nine children, I have encountered more condemnation than acceptance, more questions that understanding. Perhaps it is because I do not look like the mother of a large family. I am tiny, look younger than my age and all my life people, including twerpy teenagers, have labelled me as cute. So people's first reaction to me is shock. Confusion follows because I am happy. Now a joyful, cute, tiny mother of nine simply baffles people. I shatter all their preconceived notions. The typical image of a multi-para woman would be a large, matronly, robust, grim battle-axe of a mother, efficiently marshaling her young charges with little time to coddle or love the poor deprived dears.

Parents with two children cannot fathom how a mother of a large family manages to cope with all the work to keep up a functional home as well as have enough time to love each child. However, more children are easier than less. If you have one or two children, you have to be everything for them.  In a large family, a seven-year old will read the same book over and over again to a toddler who loves one particular book. A ten-year old feels important when he can help his six-year old brother who struggles with reading. A young teenager delights in rocking a tiny, dependent infant to sleep.

For me, family started with three. I found one child horrendous, two a strain but three was easy. With three, community started. A community works and plays together and for little children work is as fun as play. I included everyone in ordinary household chores and made chores fun. A trained Montessorian told me that I ran my home like a Montessori school. What a wonderful revelation that was for me. My kids were not being deprived because I often could not sit and play with them in the traditional sense. Instead they received an expense educational experience simply because I integrated them into the running of our home.

It was never too soon to give a toddler a play job such as  picking up the toys his younger sibling drops from the high chair, again and again.The secret was to delegate, each according to his or her talents, but never to order around like troops. I always make a conspirator out of everyone. They chop wood, help fix the car, weed the garden, take care of the animals. If they're still treated like kids or overindulged, they don't have a purpose and become really angry as teenagers. When  parents let children know that their contributions are really appreciated,their self-esteem blossoms and matures

Employers love my kids because they know how to work and do not take anything for granted. Many have said,

"I will give anybody with the last name Juneau a job."

Large families strengthen the  basic foundations of our society. They live lives of greater interconnectedness. If you don't have a lot of money, you're not an island unto yourself. You learn how to share, barter skills and products with others. My children who go to college or university adapt well to communal life in a dorm or shared house. Just imagine, they already know how to share a bathroom with a lot of other people. They know how to get along with opposite personalities, how to give and take. For starters, they know how to cook and clean up after themselves.

Healthy, large families benefit society. So open your mind and heart the next time you see or hear of one. The condemnation is really hard to handle and totally unjust in a society that loves to call itself open-minded and tolerant.

The Weirdest Thing about My Health

You would think having nine children would turn you into a frazzled wreck with a figure like the Pillsbury Dough Boy and a brain gone to mush. Not necessarily.

People look at me, their eyebrows shoot up, their mouths drop open and they sputter, "YOU had 9 children??"

This is because I am 5' 1" and weigh 104 lbs.  I was pregnant or nursing for 17 years without a break. I have been pregnant 10 times and I am healthy and happy and I have my BBB back. (That would be my Before Babies Body). I did not diet.

My husband and I half-heartedly followed natural family planning but I am a rare case; I have conceived 5 DAYS before ovulation. As my wonderful doctor once said,

"Ah yes, there was a woman in New Zealand who conceived 5 days before ovulation about two years ago. "

Once again, my body did not follow the rules. I also deliver 3 weeks early because my babies would be 9-10 lbs. if I didn't. Although I am tiny, my deliveries were all natural with out drugs or ripping and tearing. After short labours, I feel great with little pain. My doctor was my defender. For example

Our family doctor, who was also my obstetrician, had warned us to come into town immediately with my first labour pains. My eighth child was going to be born quickly. Dr. H met me outside the hospital, helped me out of our old mini-bus, into a wheelchair and literally ran past admitting with a huge grin on his face yelling,

 “Sorry. No time to admit her. I’ll do the paperwork for her after the delivery. See you later!”

He was still chuckling in the elevator over the shocked expression on the admitting clerk’s face. We moved slowly out of the elevator onto the obstetrical floor and Dr. H peered around the corner to check the nursing station. My doctor sighed happily,

“Good. The head nurse is on coffee break and no one is in the natural birthing room. Olga is going to have a fit when she sees your stats on the board and that you are in here!”

He laughed loudly this time as we darted into the softly lit room. Michael walked in a little later, holding 18- month old Katie with her sun suit on backwards, straps crossed across her chest. A nurse turned to me and said,

“Let me guess. Daddy dressed her.”

I smiled weakly in between labour pains because the nurse barely had time to check my vital signs before Anthony was born. Michael had pulled the curtain around my bed partly closed to block Katie’s view of the labour and delivery. Since she refused the cookie bribe offered by a nurse outside at the station, Katie was still with Michael. As soon as Anthony was born, my husband whipped the curtain open and passed Katie to a nurse so he could cut his son’s umbilical cord.

I am a happy anomaly.

Thwarted Again

On the BRAT Diet, Mary was starving

"You, my dear, don't seem to stand a chance."
 Mary was two years old when some sort of bug attacked her digestive system with a vengeance. My doctor ordered the BRAT Diet (bananas, rice, applesauce, toast) to remedy the lingering diarrhoea problem.

Poor Mary! It seemed like she was stuck eating the BRAT diet forever.
She looked so pitiful at meal times as she eyed her siblings plates and the turned back dejectedly to look at her bowl of rice.
Claire, Mary's partner in work and play, understood her little sister's frustration with this imposed spartan diet; so she decided to do something about it. Quick witted as always, Claire chose to carry out her plan when I was safely out of the kitchen

My Daughter initiated Mission Impossible while I was in a darkened bedroom, nursing our baby to sleep. With the bedroom door open , my kid radar turned on, alert to any sounds that my children might make. I heard disturbing noises. Up I got, slowly and carefully, not wanting to wake up Katie. I changed her position so that I could rock her and I made my way to the door and tiptoed to the kitchen .
My eyes widened in despair as I took in the scene and I whispered as loudly as I could,

"

"No!"
What did I see?
The bread box was open, the peanut butter jar lid was off. Wiry three-year old Claire was squatting like a tiny elf up on top of the counter, spreading a thick layer of the stuff on whole-wheat, stone ground bread. Mary stood below on the floor, both arms out stretched with her tiny hands opening and closing frantically. She was starving and could hardly wait to get hold of real food. The sound of my voice startled both of them. Claire glanced up briefly and finished her assignment even quicker; Mary glanced over her shoulder and then stuffed the sandwich into her mouth, hardly chewing at all before she swallowed and lunged for another big bite.
And me?

I did not want a cranky baby on my hands and she was not quite ready to lay down, so I was helpless. Thus, with great strategy and timing, Claire and Mary pulled off Mission Impossible.
I phoned my doctor's wonderful nurse, after this disaster bewailing my misfortune and this major set back to my plan of attack on intestinal bugs. Olga laughed,
"You, my dear, don't seem to stand a chance."