The Invisibility of Parenting

(I'm no Einstein, but parenting probably won't make you famous.)

Human beings love to get affirmation for their work. The icing on the cake for a job well done is often the recognition that follows a job well done. There is a real satisfaction in knowing that we have accomplished something for the good of others and that they have truly appreciated it.

In the realm of parenting, however, such affirmation for hard work is often wanting. Within the recesses of the home, the only people who witness the hard work of parenting are those little people who have very little praise and gratitude for the work of parenting. Sure, there are consolations of parenting. But the fact is that much of the effort that goes into parenting is unseen by the world. When parenting goes public - at the store, at Church, etc. - we parents are just as likely to find our parenting judged as we are to find our efforts supported.

It's no wonder then that so many parents enjoy and even rely on their work outside the home to provide life satisfaction. It is wonderful to have an excellent review at work, to receive a promotion, to get credit for great ideas, and of course, to have one of the major incentives for working, namely, a paycheck. That paycheck is the difference between being viewed as a "producer" who actively contributes to society and being viewed as an economic "dependent" confined to the "menial labor" of the home - childcare and domestic chores. At work, there is the respect that comes from other adults. There is teamwork. There is appreciation for overtime. There is a sense of success in the eyes of the world.

At home, there are piles of laundry and ironing. There are dirty dishes in the sink. There are toys on the floor. There are messy faces. There are soiled diapers. There are windows smeared by dirty handprints. There are tantrums. There are constant requests for food. There is homework that requires help. There are meals that must be cooked. And there is no end in sight to these tasks...or anyway, the end is so far away that it is almost unimaginable. Of course, there is often a genuine sense of satisfaction in caring for children and a home; sometimes it feels like parenting is worth all the sacrifices. But this is not always the case, and particularly in the beginning days of parenting, it can be difficult to deal with the lack of appreciation for hard work. The invisibility of our effort with children and home can threaten our happiness and even detract from our sense that we are doing God's will by living out our marriage vocation through caring for children.

At such times we may throw ourselves into our other work, the work we do outside the home. It is easy to put the bulk of our effort into this work where we are appreciated, respected, treated like knowledgeable adults. Back on the homefront, we are tired, having given our best to a different workplace. And we want to come home to rest and relax, not deal with defiant kids and a cluttered house. The invisibility of parenting can make it easy to become lazy and even selfish during the time we spend at home.

Likewise, for those whose primary responsibility is the house and children, there can be a tendency to seek affirmation in other activities, like those of a volunteer nature. People may not notice your great work at home, but they will notice your great work running the PTA bake sale. Your many sacrifices at home will go unnoticed, but people will admire that you are so involved with the parish. Volunteering is a great thing, but it can become an outlet for attention and affirmation rather than service, and this can especially be seen when the responsibilities of volunteering detract from efforts with children and home.

It is regrettable, truly regrettable, that the rearing of children and the service of domestic chores are currently so undervalued. It is a problem in our society that the value of family and home is constantly underrated and undercut by a consumeristic vision. But while this is regrettable and problematic, it is also a wonderful opportunity for parenting mortification. In fact, we might observe that many of our Catholic saints strove for just this chance to be invisible: to go about their work unnoticed and unappreciated by the world. Rather than seeing the lack of affirmation and recognition as one of the worst parts of parenting, we might see it as one of the best aspects of parenting. Not only do we have the opportunity to make numerous sacrifices on a daily basis (sleep deprivation, having our stuff destroyed, being insulted, experiencing physical pain), but we can make these sacrifices without anyone noticing or appreciating them!

Granted, it's not easy. As a mortification, there is a dying to the self that comes with this invisibility of parenting. Parenting is not about us in the sense that outside work can be about us. We won't win any awards for our expert home organization or frequent vacuuming. We won't be featured on a magazine cover for being awake all night with a vomiting child. We won't receive a trophy for the longest sustained toddler-holding during a church service. Since we don't get paid for parenting, we won't get a raise for the stupendous kitchen-cleaning or lunch-packing that we do.

But in the lack of recognition, the mortification that is a dying to self, there is an opportunity to live more fully for God. For when we make these unseen efforts, offering our work to God, and offering work that we know the rest of the world sees as unimportant compared to business, law, medicine or professional sports, we show God that we are willing to do his work simply to please him and not for our own fame or any other natural rewards. We can disappear in the eyes of the world, who sees our education and work experience wasted on such "menial" labor.  The lack of attention and recognition for our work in living our vocation makes it more valuable in God's eyes, not less. Hence if we can mortify ourselves with respect to this invisibility rather than bemoaning it, then we may become more fully an instrument of God. We can decrease, so that he might increase.

The Pressure of Being the Perfect Role Model

(Kids love to imitate their parents)

Despite the many differences among various parenting perspectives and methods, there is almost always one point on which they agree: parents model behavior for their children. Many experts argue that parent modeling is in fact THE MOST IMPORTANT influence on children's behavior and their subsequent behavior as adults. Studies emphasize that lecturing, discussing, and informing children about one's values or beliefs pale in comparison to the importance of demonstrating commitment to these values by living them out in daily life.

This study is just one of many to recognize that children imitate adults. They imitate our use of technology, our eating habits, our ways of dealing with conflict, our punctuality, our cleanliness, our manner of speaking to others, the self-perception of our appearance, our enthusiasm for reading, etc. Beyond these concerns, we Catholics have to think about how we want to model the faith: our commitment to prayer, our embodying corporal and spiritual works of mercy, our participation in Mass, our practice of hospitality, our growth in virtue, our detachment to material possessions, our kindness to others, our concern for the environment, our interaction in larger society, our willingness to stand up for Catholic beliefs, our thirst for the knowledge of the Catechism, our fondness for Scripture, our love for Jesus and for Mary and the communion of saints, etc.

Wow. Just typing the above paragraph was enough to give me anxiety about my own personal failures in regard to many of these issues. Frankly, it's mortifying to think about the many ways I constantly fail as a role model for my children, and by mortifying in this case I actually do mean embarrassing. But of course, this can also become a parenting mortification when we avoid two potential pitfalls related to the pressure of being the perfect role model.

The first mistake is to excuse ourselves from striving to be a good role model. We might come up with a great reason, such as "To thine own self be true" or "I need to take care of myself." These perspectives might foster a consistent attitude of selfishness or may be something that we simply resort to in stressful moments. We may observe to ourselves the difficulty and challenges of our lives as parents and then tell ourselves that it's OK if we watch three hours of television in the evening rather than actively interacting with our family or attending a meeting for an organization to which we belong. After all, we need that downtime after a hard day's work. Or we might say to ourselves that it's fine if we munch on donuts in the morning so long as we provide our kids with a healthier breakfast. It's acceptable for us to yell angrily at our spouse, but our kids better not back-talk to us.

Or, rather than the denial of our own inconsistency of standards, we may tend toward procrastination: we tell ourselves that we'll start being a better role model for our kids when they are a little older and when parenting has gotten "easier." Once they are a little older and our stress lessens (and our night-sleeping increases!), we'll be better able to pray consistently or to open our homes frequently to friends.

Of course, this is a struggle, and it is a mortification, an opportunity to die to the self and live for God. Self-improvement is always a challenge. Self-improvement in order to model to children is definitely a challenge. But it is also a necessity if we care about our children's growth in virtue and holiness. We all have bad days or particularly difficult situations which bring out our worst. But we simply can't purposely shirk our commitment to modeling behavior for our children. If we disregard that responsibility due to our own stresses and worries, they will imitate our behavior by also neglecting commitment to virtue and holiness in difficult times. Instead, we must embrace that responsibility to model behavior as a mortification, and a particularly difficult one at that, for it is one where we will often have to do things that we wouldn't otherwise choose, and because of that, we are almost certain to fail on a daily basis. Not only that, but we will see our own failures imitated by our children in a way that truly must humble us, for example, when we recognize our hurtful words coming from their mouths, or our lack of organization reflected in their own.

The second mistake can come when we do make an effort and yet realize the extent of our failure. It can become possible to despair of our many weaknesses and to be discouraged by our children's behavior, attributing their inconsistencies and problems to our own inadequacies. At times, our disappointment in ourselves may become a downward spiral from which we seek to escape, not by renewed effort but by complete avoidance of the task.

Rather than succumbing to these feelings, however, it is best to take pity on ourselves, to paraphrase St. Francis De Sales, we can say "Poor old heart, you fail so often!" Recognizing our failures needn't cause despair, but ought to lead us to hope. It gives us all the more reason to abandon ourselves to God, to rely more fully on God's guidance in our self-improvement and in our parenting. Acknowledging our failures and need for the grace of God is a mortification, a death to self and opportunity to live for God by embracing hope.

The pressure on parents to be the perfect model can often feel overwhelming. And yet, when we embrace our own constant task of growth in virtue and sanctity rather than shirking it for more immediate pleasures, we can live more fully for God as well as become good models for our children. Granted, we will often fail and witness our failures in the behavior of our children. But this too can become a valuable opportunity for death to self in order to live for God.

Enjoying the Consolations of Parenthood

I once had a confessor ask me if I was "mortifying" myself with respect to the beautiful weather. Given that the theme of this blog is parenting mortification, I obviously have given some thought to the topic of mortification. But I was still a bit surprised by his question, and I informed him right away that enjoying beautiful weather was one of the main perks of my job as a mom, and hence I had been indulging in the beautiful weather, not mortifying myself by avoiding it.

There are many mortifications involved in parenthood. So far I've only written on a few of them. But suffice it to say that in many ways, parenting is hard. It provides many challenges and a constant push for parents to die for themselves and live for God by serving their family. But let's be honest...most parents don't take on the parenthood endeavor with fantasies about sleep deprivation, having our possessions destroyed by children, getting insulted, and so on. Those mortifications are blessings because they draw us beyond selfishness to a happier and holier way of life...but they weren't our main aspirations when we became parents.

Mortifications are great, but on the other hand, there are also consolations of parenthood, and these too have the potential to draw us beyond selfishness. By consolations I mean those things for which parents hope before even  having children: snuggling with a newborn, seeing a child's first steps, comforting an injured child, listening to a toddler explanation, sharing fun activities, and yes, spending most of the day outside enjoying beautiful weather rather than cooped up in an office behind a desk.

It sometimes happens, however, that we parents let these consolations of parenting pass by without our notice. I know this from my own experience. Standing in front of me is a cute little toddler wanting a hug (who will only be this size for a tiny fraction of his life), but I'd rather get him out of the way so I can finish vacuuming. Sitting next to me at lunch is a beautiful and funny girl who will soon spend the bulk of her time in elementary school, but I'd really like to glance at the news headlines on my iPad. And here's my chance to listen to a little boy's reprise of a story I told him earlier in the day, but I really need to outline a blog post. And I'll get another chance tomorrow to enjoy his creative stories, right?

Occasionally it seems that it is easier to appreciate blessings when they come in the form of mortifications than in the form of consolations. Mortifications seem to require an active embrace. Consolations can be passively ignored or postponed.

Yet when we ignore or postpone the consolations of parenthood, we miss an important opportunity for gratitude. In our children, God has given us the most amazing gifts...little people who often look like us or talk like us. Little people who depend upon us and love us. Little people who seek our comfort and attention and affection. Little people with bright smiles, warm hugs, and funny remarks. If we can thank God for the challenges of parenting, we ought certainly to thank God for these consolations. Likewise, our gratitude should extend to the other benefits of parenthood, like having an excuse to be outside at a park on a nice day or getting to go sledding in the wintertime. There's also the joy of sharing our children with others, and seeing the delight on their faces as they appreciate the cuteness that we as parents so often take for granted. And then there's the wonderful consolation of sharing our hobbies (sports, music, fossil-hunting!) or favorite books, movies, and music with our kids. It's so fun to have children taking an interest in our interests! And one other great consolation is certainly that of sharing the faith with our children, sharing in their sacramental life through baptism and first communion.

These consolations truly are wonderful blessings that can help us to die to ourselves in order to live for God. We know that we have done nothing to "earn" our children, nor can we ever do more for them than has already been done for us by God. The experience of God's generosity in these consolations should temper the mortifications of parenthood, strengthening in us a sense of awe for God's goodness.

So let's not allow these consolations of parenthood to pass us by unnoticed. Take a moment to enjoy the snuggles, the warmth and cuddliness of children. Don't miss that funny story because you're worried about a household chore. Put down the phone and pick up your toddler and a favorite book. Admire your daughter's new roller skating skills. Spend less time criticizing and more time smiling. Worry less about your career and care more about how quickly childhood passes. Stop trying to capture the moment on a camera and instead store this memory in your heart.

Though parenting mortification is valuable, so also is parenting consolation. Both should bring us beyond our own narrow concerns and increase our gratitude for the blessings of parenthood, helping us to love God more each day and grow closer to God through our daily work as parents.

Rethinking the Physical Pain of Parenting

"Behind a locked door," pastel by artist Mark A. Hewitt, April 2012

The Easter season is always a good time to reflect on the Catholic Church's teaching regarding the resurrection of the body. The Catechism, in paragraph 997 states the following:

"In death, the separation of the soul from the body, the human body decays and the soul goes to meet God, while awaiting its reunion with its glorified body. God, in his almighty power, will definitively grant incorruptible lives to our bodies, by reuniting them with our souls, through the power of Jesus' Resurrection."

So what exactly is a "glorified body"? Too often, I fear, we may associate a glorified body with a "perfect" body in accord with the current standards of health and beauty here on earth. Maybe we picture perfect symmetry, glossy hair, straight teeth, flawless skin, and just the right weight, with the perfect BMI.

And yet, one crucial point of emphasis in the resurrection narratives of Jesus is the presence of his wounds. Given the scourging at the pillar, the crown of thorns, the carrying of the cross, the crucifixion, and the piercing of the lance, we can surmise that Jesus' body laid to rest in the tomb was in pretty bad physical shape, far from the ideal human figures we label as perfect. But even in his resurrection, Jesus retains the wounds of the cross -- maybe not every mark of the scourging, but at least the nail wounds from the cross, and the piercing in his side. That scriptural detail should challenge our conventional notion of the "perfect body."

The presence of Jesus' wounds in his resurrected body indicates perhaps that the beauty of the body comes from sacrifice made in the service of God. The service of God, lived out in a particular vocation, can certainly take a toll on the body. For example, anthropologist Dr. Susan Sheridan has been working to analyze the skeletons of 5th and 6th century Byzantine monks in Jerusalem. In an article in Notre Dame Magazine, Sheridan observes: “When we pulled the bones out we found the legs were really pathological.” In other words, biomechanical analysis indicated that the monks had knelt a lot; bones rubbed against bones at the knee, and the big toes fused as a response to repetitive stress. In other words, the monks' constant prayer left actual physical marks on their skeletons, marks that are still evident on their bones a millennium and a half later. If this is the condition of their bodies, what about their souls? For prayer in the service of God influences not just the body, but the soul as well.

These monks' skeletons can provide useful reflection for us parents who believe that the work we do as parents not only marks our bodies, but our souls as well. A biomechanical analysis of the skeletons of those who spent much time caring for children would probably show the signs of parenting, and particularly the physical pain of parenting. Perhaps one hip would be slightly lower than the other from constantly holding a babe. Or perhaps the spinal column would be compressed. There are also pains of parenting that wouldn't remain on our skeletons. Many of these caught me off guard when I became a parent. No one warned me about how much it hurts when a toddler throws back his head, connecting his skull with your nose. No one mentioned the pain of a kiddo using your hair as a rappelling aid. No one informed me that parenting would give me scratches and even bruises caused by my children. Nor did they emphasize how parenting can be bad for the back, especially with young children.

But like the 5th and 6th century Byzantine monks, these are physical pains of our vocation, lived out in service to God. In some sense, they are the wounds of Christ, which we willingly embrace in the same manner that he embraced his passion and death. The body is for loving, and sometimes loving others - such as our children - will leave marks on our body. But the physical pain of parenting is an opportunity for parenting mortification, an invitation to die to self and live for God. The glorified body is not the perfect body idolized by our society. The wounds on Christ's body are not imperfections, problems that stand in the way of beauty and ought to be healed. 

Many view the pains and physical imperfections that come along with parenting in a negative light. Parents who love and serve God on earth through their parenting may not have the "perfect" bodies according to our current conventional standards. Those bodies may not be thin or attractive. They may not be healthy or free of pain. They may not be strong or sturdy. Rather, those who love and serve God on earth will likely already suffer the physical consequences of this service.

Of course, there is something praiseworthy in trying to preserve our health so that we can love and serve God. We should try to take care of our bodies and aim for health in order to do God's will, particularly so that we can be good parents to our children. But physical health and the goal of long life for its own sake cannot be seen as ends in themselves. And in fact, even injury and illness are wonderful opportunities to love and serve God by offering that pain to God, uniting it with Christ's passion for the good of others in the world. Injury and illness may disfigure and weaken our bodies, but they can also increase the beauty of our souls, uniting us with the passion of Christ so as to share in his resurrection. 

The sacrifices of parenting indicate the continuity of our life on earth and in heaven, and hence those physical pains undertaken for God's work are rightly associated with the glorification of our bodies. If we are offering our daily work to God - whether or parenting or praying or teaching or cleaning or even suffering - then the physical blemishes we incur as a result bring us closer to perfection, not imperfection. They increase the beauty of our souls and help us move closer to that final glorified body.

So the next time you get kicked in the shin, scratched on the arm or hit in the head by a flying shoe, just remember that the physical pain of parenting is an opportunity to die to self and live for God...and that has eternal rewards.

On Failure and the Sacrament of Confession

By now it's probably obvious that I think parenting mortification is a great idea. Suddenly even things that seem bad - from sleep deprivation to a sick kid - can be viewed more positively, as opportunities for dying to self and living for God. Ideally, we parents who have embraced the daily sacrifices of parenting in this way would deal gracefully with each challenge that besets us, seeing every difficulty as a blessing that allows us to look beyond natural inconvenience to supernatural significance.

In reality, even those who embrace parenting mortification (or write a blog about it!) can fail in trying to live it out. It's wonderful to have thought about how to embrace particular problems of parenting, as well as discerning false crosses, and striving to find prayer to sustain ourselves spiritually in the midst of parenting. But let's face it, we all fail to embrace our crosses (parenting-related or otherwise) at some point. Sometimes that failure is partly the result of difficult circumstances. But at other times that rejection of the cross is an embrace of the self, whether purposeful or caused by a lack of recollection, examination, and reflection.

There are times that we not only fail to bear cheerfully with our burdens, but in addition to losing that opportunity, we also sin by complaining bitterly about them, taking out our frustration by yelling angrily at our kids or spouse, and then staying up too late consoling ourselves with ice cream and a novel. At times this can even become a cycle, since staying up late can make us tired the next day and impatient and perhaps needy for affirmation, which doesn't always come on demand from our children. Like defiant little kids, we may recognize that we've done something wrong but respond to it indignantly, behaving even worse than before and making angry excuses for ourselves.

Of course, that doesn't solve the problem or ultimately make us feel any better about the sins we commit toward others, including our children. Like those defiant little kids, what we really want is forgiveness, a merciful embrace that affirms us and our efforts, eases our burdens, erases our sins, and gives us the strength to try again.

Such an aid is readily available to us in the sacrament of confession.

Here are a few ideas for dealing with the failure of parenting mortification and the sin that may accompany it. At the moment when you catch yourself, mid-sarcastic remark or mid-yell or mid-complaint (or even post-sarcastic remark, etc.) try to stop immediately and recollect yourself. Calm down. Admit to yourself you could handle this better. If you still feel ill at ease, say an Act of Contrition. You can even say it multiple times. Make a mental note of the sin to remember it later. Now, move on. Get up and try again.

Before you go to bed, make an effort to do a good examination of conscience where you identify those sins from earlier in the day, and say another Act of Contrition. If you do this every night, you may begin to identify patterns or name particular difficulties with which you really struggle. Maybe it's yelling or being distracted by your iPhone or spending more time cleaning than interacting with your kids or not being kind enough to your spouse at the end of the day.

So the next step is to go to confession, and bring those sins with you. Then, leave them in the confessional. And begin again.

When you sin again, confess again, and try again.

You may not see any progress being made. You may feel like you are struggling with the same sins each week. But with regular (weekly, monthly) practice of the sacrament of confession and effort strengthened with God's grace, you will improve. You will get better at embracing parenting mortification. You will even get better at getting up again after a failure. Grace can do that, meeting us where we are and raising us beyond where our natural abilities would leave us.

*****
Unfortunately, many Catholics have had poor experiences of the sacrament of confession. I can count myself among them. But it would be a mistake to forego the sacrament just because of one, or two, or more bad experiences, especially since this sacrament is such a help for parents who seek to embrace the mortifications of parenthood. So here are a few tips to make the most of the sacrament.

1. Prepare yourself well. Frequent examinations of conscience allow you to "have your sin always before you" so that you are able to make a good confession. Pray for the guidance of the Holy Spirit to help you receive the sacrament well. If you get tongue-tied or nervous, you may want to jot down your sins on a piece of paper.

2. Go regularly to the sacrament. The Catholic Church prescribes a minimum of annual use of the sacrament of confession. But if we really view it as an opportunity for grace that will strengthen us in the difficult tasks of parenting, it will be hard to make such little use of the sacrament. Monthly or weekly use of the sacrament forms us in the habit of identifying our sins, confessing them, seeking to amend for them, and trying to avoid them in the future. The grace of the sacrament aids us in these struggles.

3. Find a good confessor. This may be a difficult task, but it makes a huge difference. Finding a good confessor can take resourcefulness and perseverance. You may have just have to try out various parishes or you may be able to ask around to see if your good Catholic friends have recommendations. You may have to pray for God to send you someone, and you may have to be patient. During this time, try to focus on the efficacy of the sacrament. Even if your confessor doesn't seem to understand you or your situation and hence gives you what you consider bad advice (or excuses your sins, saying they aren't really sins), so long as he absolves you, you are receiving grace. God will continue to help and strengthen you in your struggles against sin regardless of the skill or demeanor of the priest who hears your confession.

4. Employ a particular, as well as a general examination of conscience. In other words, pick one particular sin to address. When you confess your sins, you'll likely have a few areas of struggle, but identifying one issue to focus on can really help you make progress. For example, you may be especially prone to yelling angrily at your children when you are trying to rush them out the door in the morning. Or you may realize that you are not as affectionate to one of your children as you are to the others. You may not be communicating effectively with your spouse regarding your schedule, and then blaming him when he fails to adhere to that schedule. Of course we need to try to avoid all sin, but it can be overwhelming to work on all our weaknesses at once. So a simple resolution concerning one particular struggle can be truly beneficial in aiding us to chip away at patterns of sin in our lives. By "simple" resolution, I mean something like, smile in the morning and embrace the kids the first time you see them for the day. Or get out of bed earlier so that you can slow down the morning rush. Or check in weekly with your spouse concerning the family agenda. Try to end each day with an examination of conscience and Act of Contrition.

5. Provide some background. Before you find a regular confessor, or for those times when you go to confession to someone other than your regular confessor, it is helpful for the priest if you provide some information about yourself, e.g. "I am a married father of four young children, employed as an accountant at a manufacturing company." You may mention your particular resolution, "In the past week, I've been working especially on trying to be affectionate to my oldest son, who has been going through a very obstinate phase. I think I made progress on that early in the week, but I became so frustrated with him yesterday in the evening that I didn't even tell him goodnight when he went to bed." Such context about your state of life and your past sin struggles and resolutions may prevent the confessor from misinterpreting or undermining your confession. Also, it is OK to challenge the priest if you feel he is too easily dismissing your sins. Something akin to, "Father, I respect your opinion but I don't think you understand my situation. I didn't come here for a psychological back-pat; I want you to trust my examination of conscience and absolve the sins I've identified."

6. Don't give up if you have a bad experience. This is a sacrament, after all, and is an important source of grace, whether you "feel" it to be helpful or not.

Taking Kids to Mass: Making a Mortification a Mortification

(Stained glass at Assumption Parish, Roselle Park NJ

Photo credit: Jeremy Feilmeyer) 

Perhaps you remember what it was like to attend Mass before you had young children in the pew with you. Actually, I'm having a hard time recalling the experience. But I can sort of imagine what it would be like - sitting quietly, perhaps following along with the readings and prayers in a missal, and participating fully in the liturgical words and gestures of the Mass.

Once a child enters the scene, however, Sunday Mass can become a real challenge. Initially there are unpredictable newborn cries and dirty diapers to address. Soon follows mobile children who refuse to sit still and prefer to crawl under kneelers and escape to different pews. One of my toddlers loved to pick gum off the bottom of seats. Then babies start walking and are even less willing to sit still. And of course, it's at about that point that they also begin to talk (or yell) clearly. "ALL DONE MASS!!!" cried one of my toddlers...during the Eucharistic prayer. Once there are two or more kids in the pew, the sibling squabbles erupt - who gets to sit next to Mom, who gets held by Dad, who gets to put in the tithing envelope, etc. When kids get older, and parental expectations for Mass participation increase, that can also become a point of tension.

Of course, there are also times when our kids seem to be paying attention to what's going on, even interacting. Like when my daughter lifted up her dress to show Jesus her belly button. Or when she spotted our pastor walking into the sacristy in his cassock and yelled, "Fr. Jim is still wearing his nightgown!"

For some reason, of all the challenges of parenting, this experience of attending Sunday Mass with young children can be particularly demoralizing for those of us who are good Catholic parents trying to raise good Catholic children. I think there are several explanations for this. First, it is hard to go from recollected prayer at Mass to non-stop squirmy-kid-wrestling. It's difficult to give up the peace and contemplation that accords so well with participating in the Mass.

Second, the Mass situation is so public. Of course kids can embarrass parents in lots of public situations. But for those of us who prefer not to be humiliated by active, loud children, we tend to avoid taking them to opera houses, movies, and fancy restaurants. The ability to behave in a certain way is expected at such places, and, as a matter of fact, that still, quiet behavior is also expected in church... which is why it bothers us so much when our kids don't conform to that norm.

Third, given that expectation for calm, quiet behavior in a church, it is easy to feel judged by the people around us. We know that they are trying to pray. We know that screaming, jumping kids can be a distraction for people trying to pray...we know this from experience because it often distracts us from our prayer. Perhaps it's just parental paranoia, but I'm quite confident it's not - on the basis of angry glares I've received through my years of taking kids to Mass.

Our kids' childlike behavior at Mass can be difficult and embarrassing. We might even say we're mortified by their behavior. So, how can we change this mortification (embarrassment) into a mortification (death to self to live for God)? Here are a few ideas.

Let's remember why we're doing it. This is a part of our vocation to marriage. We are raising children in the faith. One of the key obligations of the faith is attending Mass. Therefore, we take our kids to Mass because we are supposed to do it. Like many aspects of parenting, it's challenging.

This situation bears similarity to others I've discussed on this blog. Being deprived of regular sleep, having our stuff destroyed, getting insulted by our children - these are all difficulties that can become opportunities. Yes, we are called to take our children to Mass. Yes, they will (hopefully only occasionally) embarrass or humiliate us. Knowing this, we should look at each Sunday Mass as an opportunity to die to self, and to live to God. We'd prefer to sit still, but we can't. We'd prefer to hold a missal, but instead we hold a toddler. We'd prefer to join in the singing, but we can't balance the book and babe. We'd prefer reflective silence, but instead we hear sibling fights. We'd prefer to appear dressed for the occasion, but instead our main Sunday outfit trademarks are mucus streaks and mussed up hair. We'd prefer to go unnoticed, but instead a hundred eyes are turned in our direction. In short, for parents, even Sunday Mass is an opportunity NOT to do what we want, but to do what God wants us to do in the situation we've been given...to pray amid screams and smells and glares from fellow parishioners. In short, to offer it up as a prayer. "Lord, this isn't how I would have chosen to celebrate Sunday Mass, but I embrace it cheerfully because it is what you have chosen for me. Thank you." And really, I think God smiles on any attempts to pray given the level of difficulty in the situations described above.

Lastly, about being embarrassed. It stinks, doesn't it? Before having young children in the pew with us, we were so... normal. Sure, many people - priests included - will commend us for bringing our children to Mass. They'll compliment our perseverance and our children's appearances or supposedly good behavior. But they'll also notice when you have to take your daughter to the bathroom during the Gloria for the ninth week in a row or when you have to retrieve a toy thrown three pews forward.

And then, also in the mystical body of Christ present at our local Masses will be some who don't approve of our decision to bring our loud, active children to church. They'll be disappointed in the distraction or unhappy in our apparent lack of discipline. They will make us feel judged and unwelcome. And it's a natural tendency to turn that judgment around - to dislike not only their glares, but to dislike them as well, perhaps to view them as enemies. As if taking a family to Sunday Mass isn't already difficult enough...now we have to endure the silent criticisms of people around us.

So here's another opportunity to say humbly: "These people don't annoy me. These people sanctify me. I offer my difficulty for them and love them even if my children annoy them." If we can endure humiliation, embarrassment and judgment with the same meekness in attitude as that of our Lord and Savior when he endured humiliation, embarrassment and judgment during his passion and death on the cross, then we will grow spiritually, benefiting not only ourselves, but also the entire Church, including those people who find our children to be distracting.

*******

Lest anyone clicked on this post hoping for some tips on how to get your kids to behave at Mass, here are a few ideas in that vein. Some of them sometimes work for some of my kids at some Masses. Ahem.

1. Talk to your kids' guardian angels. The main task of guardian angels is to provide spiritual guidance, so ask your kids' guardian angels to assist you in helping your kids to worship. Teamwork.
2. If you have a VERY active child (in my experience, the most difficult is new walker to 20 months), consider attending a Mass that is begins near the start of his naptime, and get him to nap during Mass.
3. Alternately, consider attending an early Mass, before your kids start to get too cranky. Another benefit of this is that no matter how badly it goes, it's all over by 9:00 a.m. Beware that these Masses generally don't have many children in attendance. That can work for you - everyone loves your kids because they are the only ones there! Or it can work against you - everyone dislikes your kids because they are the only ones there, where they apparently should not be.
4. Another idea is to attend a kid-focused Mass, perhaps one where they take the kids out for the Liturgy of the Word or at least where there are many children present in Church, making it difficult for everyone to know that it's actually your kids doing the screaming.
5. In times of desperation, consider your spouse and you attending different Masses. When my husband injured his back and I was eight months pregnant, neither one of us could hold our 25 pound toddler for the entirety of Mass and he insisted upon it. The best alternative in the situation was attending separate services. Another solution to a problem like this is hiring a baby-sitter for an hour.
6. If you find yourself plagued by sibling squabbles, consider having you and your spouse sit in separate parts of the church at the same Mass, dividing up the kids who fight the most.
7. Talk to your kids about Mass outside of Mass. Try to explain to them the significance, what's going on, etc. Sometimes it's ok to talk (whisper) to your kids during Mass, to direct their attention to important things, e.g. the elevation of the host.
8. In addition to Sunday Mass with your children, arrange to attend daily Mass without your children. This can help renew you spiritually when Sunday Mass is feeling like more of a trial than a prayer.
9. Make sure your children are well fed before you get to church. Try to get them to go to the bathroom before you get to church. Perhaps bring a small toy or activity book.
10. Offer rewards for good behavior. Be concrete. It can't just be "good" behavior, but "If you stay in the pew the whole Mass" or "If you don't have any fights with your sister" or "If you use only use your whisper-voice" or something in that vein. For kids old enough to understand consequences, it may also work to remove them from the church if they are misbehaving, and give them a time out in the church basement.
11. Make Sundays really special for your kids. Let them know it's the most important day of the week by doing stuff that's out of the ordinary routine - different food, different activities, etc. Try to avoid their primary association with Sunday Mass being really upset and angry parents.
12. Offer it up! See above. Sometimes parental attitude adjustment really does make a difference. It's easy to be anxious and on edge when you feel like you're being judged or humiliated. Once you embrace that as permitted by God's will for your sanctification, it's easier to relax and kids seem to sense your peace and calm down.

On God's Team: When Your Children Seem to Be Working Against You

(I didn't ask my son to get in the tub in his pajamas. It just happened.)

It’s not unusual for parents to learn new things about themselves when they become parents. If you’re like me, many of these revelations are negative. You may have never struggled much with anger, but faced with a toddler and an empty ketchup bottle (contents on the floor), you realize that your face is about the same shade as the ketchup and that you are about to explode like it did when you inadvertently stepped on the misplaced bottle.

You may have thought you were the self-giving type, ready to make any sacrifice possible for your kids, until that third night in a row dealing with a screaming, crying baby suffering from an ear infection.

You may have pictured a harmonious household, compliant children bustling about assisting with chores and then snuggling up with you on the couch for some quiet reading time or fun family game time. Now however, brief moments such as these seem to do little to assuage the constant sibling squabbles, defiant protests against almost anything, and, of course, the non-stop messes that young children and even older children are so astute at making.

At times, you may feel like your kids are simply working against you. You have great goals for them – for their education, for their exercise, for their recreation, for their social lives, and above all for their sanctity. But they seem oblivious to these goals and frankly uninterested. Developing virtue isn’t top on their list of things to do today, nor is playing quietly while you make dinner.

It’s easy to get frustrated when your expectations for your children’s behavior or for you own parenting skills aren’t fulfilled the way you hoped. Your kids may even appear to you as a near occasion of sin, detracting from your sanctity rather than leading you toward holiness.

If you should ever feel like this, take a step back, Jack! Take a moment to reflect on what it means to be on God’s team and how you and your spouse are right now training your children to contribute to God’s team.

First, assess the situation. How many of you are on this team anyway? Take your family size, e.g. six total, and then double it, e.g. 12. Right, so with a family of six people, the team consists of at least 12, when we count our guardian angels…as well we should. If your spouse is gone at the moment, leaving you home with four kids, then there are 10 present, and you know (if you’re on God’s team) that at least six of those present are working together. Six vs. four. You + five angels vs. four little children. The odds are clearly in your favor.

Now, about those “vs. four.” Is there any way to re-narrate their actions such that even the meanest insults and purposeful destruction of property can actually be a cause for an increase in your holiness? Of course, my answer is yes. That’s what parenting mortification is all about: being willing to embrace those challenges as a way to die to yourself and live for God. Yes, your son is actively and knowingly breaking a house rule by munching on pita chips behind the rocking chair in the living room. He may even be purposely antagonizing you by this action.

But it doesn’t follow that HIS behavior must cause YOU to sin. Even if he thinks he’s working against you, you can see his action as a frustration to embrace and a learning opportunity for both of you. It’s not what you want – a mess on the carpet behind the chair, a disobedient toddler trying to spite you – but it’s what God has given you at this moment. So you can thank God for reminding you of your lack of control and God’s ultimate control, and score one point for the team. You can score another point for God’s team when you don’t yell or spank or mutter a sarcastic comment, but rather deal with the situation calmly, enlisting the help of both your and his guardian angels. Say to yourself and to all angels present, “This child is not antagonizing me. This child is sanctifying me.”

So, after all this, you’ll see that what seemed to be your kid’s detracting from your holiness and the harmony of the household has actually contributed to it, at least supernaturally, if not naturally. On God’s team, we make mistakes – we sin – but we also seek forgiveness from God and each other. And so long as we don’t give up the struggle, we can’t help but win, especially since Christ has ultimately already won the victory for us and will always give us the grace we need to persevere in our own struggles for our sanctity and our children’s.