Last night I began to read A Mother's Rule of Life. I was forewarned that she has older children, so to keep in mind that her life might look a little different from mine, and I might not always relate to the same issues. Still, I decided to see what it was about and if it could help me to better live out my vocation as a mother.
As I began to read, she talked about a time when she was ready to give up because she had hit bottom. I thought I can relate to that. She said a few things to her husband that were worse than what I have ever said, and the way she described her house made me feel pretty good about mine. If she was that low, then however she solves her problems in this book will certainly help me. She describes a conversion experience with her ordinary living and daily schedule, and how Christ led her to develop a rule of life, a routine to prioritize her time and be committed daily and hourly to the most important responsibilities, and to do this all not as a religious would acquire holiness, but as a religious wife and mother. It sounded so good, and though I had not yet read her actual routine, I was ready to start the next day with more purpose and to be more intentional about my time. I wrote down a rough schedule of how to accomplish my duties for the next day, even knocking off some originally planned chores that didn't seem realistic to accomplish. I set my alarm rather than planning on waiting to be dragged out of bed by the cries of my children, and I went to bed with high hopes.
My baby Edmund woke up about a half hour later, then about one or two hours later, then about one or two hours later, then about one or two hours later, then about one or two hours later... you get the idea. I also was up with him during a couple of these awakenings for longer than normal. Needless to say, the motivation to wake up early enough to exercise and pray before I needed to give Agnes breakfast quickly drained away and I turned off my alarm. That was how the day started.
My husband returned from a night shift and made his way to bed just as I was making my way out. The baby was starting to fuss, and Agnes had been sadly calling for Mommy for a few minutes. I got her out of bed and changed her diaper as Edmund began to scream at the foot of my exhausted husband's bed. I finally began to nurse him, by the end of which my daughter had stunk her diaper. Then I changed both of them, finished nursing and finally got into the shower, a few minutes into which I could hear Edmund losing it from the first floor. Somehow while I was in the shower, Agnes had soaked the floor with what I believed to be toilet water--and let's just say the toilet was due for a cleaning--and she was pretty wet as well, either from leaning over the tub, or... toilet water. I was supposed to meet my friend in a half hour, and Edmund was still screaming. I needed to clean the floor, clean the things that were on the floor, and clean and dress Agnes all before I could go and comfort my baby. And neither Agnes nor I had eaten yet, and I had not had my coffee. Throughout this time I had said Jesus' Name many times in prayer along with a couple of choice words, not under my breath.
Throughout all of this I was recalling the words from the book I had read the previous evening and throughout the night feedings. I had eventually gotten to the part describing her daily schedule, which included what seemed to be about two hours of prayer. Somehow, it seemed, her baby never needed to nurse and was always happy, that her kids did everything without needing her help, and that the two year old bathed himself. Not only that, but her husband's consistent teaching hours of work are a far cry from my husband's nursing schedule in which not even one day of the week is consistent. I am tempted to walk away from this book because it is making me feel bad and a little hopeless about ever attaining such order and consistency in my life. Where I was thankful to not be behind on laundry or dishes a couple of days ago, I now feel like my life is simply trying to work in sleeping and eating around cries for attention and the physical necessities for care from my babies.
Still, what I have understood from the book, is that she has ordered her life, and the life of her family, around prayer. Holiness is her top priority, and while I am in the habit of making excuses for myself not frequenting the sacraments more often or never hearing the homily at Mass, because that's what motherhood is, she is looking at her day with the perspective that prayer provides the strength and reason for everything else. I cannot imitate her schedule, but somehow I want to imitate this practice of seeing my time and days as needing first to be filled with prayer, and then with everything else. I am a little disheartened and not sure how to move forward, but I am resisting the urge to cast away this book that makes me see myself and my self-centered or off-centered hours a little more clearly.
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