Whispers

The 5 year old Red Head perched in my lap, as we sat on the beach, waiting for the sun to fade out of sight, and fall beneath the horizon.  We both understood the special-ness of this time of day that was just about to slip between our fingers.

That  moment when day becomes night.  The sun disappearing from view symbolized that the Earth would be bathed half in light and half in a blanket of darkness.  And for my Tribe,  represented the close of yet, another blessed 75 degree day in February, spent at the beach.

And that is when she asked, for what must have been the 10th time, "Mama, what's for dinner?"

I paused, and took a long drawn in breath, trying to remain calm.  I was holding onto my patience like a crumpled, worn out Kleenex that you find in the bottom of your pocket, as you are searching for one inch on unused tissue...all I need is just one inch of patience to answer this question for the 10th time.

"Charlotte," I said, voice lowered, pulling her in close, "I feel frustrated when you ask me the same thing over and over again, because my answer is the same.  I need you to be a better listener.  Do you understand what I'm saying?"

She looked at me, leaned back into my chest, and focused her attention on the sun which was about to set, and now resembled a melting pat of butter on a pancake, hot off the griddle.

"Yes, Mama.  I think my brain is just stubborn and forgets.  I'm sorry about that.  I know that you are a very hard working Mama.  And that, well, you have a lot of kids.  It's my stubborn brain," she finished up.

What is a parent even to say to that?  When you figure it out, will you please shoot me a text because I still haven't responded.

Thus far, 2016 has been the year of Retreats.  Honestly speaking, I do love me some Retreat time.  I love unplugging from laundry, and making dinner, and keeping the dog from eating the mailman.  I love how the urgency of getting stuff done (answering email, buying more milk, paying the PG&E bill before they shut it off), dissipates while on Retreat.

Retreats are like a bonafide EXIT from the responsibilities of life.  Retreats offer much needed down time, some quiet reflection, getting your Spirituality on (if this is what you desire), all while someone else  is cooking you breakfast, lunch, and dinner.  You feeling me?

And from what I understand, there are all sorts of different kinds of Retreats.  Maybe you want to go to a Yoga Retreat.  How about a Spa Retreat?  There are probably even Wine Retreats.  And if there aren't, I totally need to capitalize on that shit, like yesterday.

I bet you're feeling like you wanna go on a Retreat right about now, huh?  Well, I don't blame you for a second. And in fact. I highly recommend it (right after you finish reading this very informative and life altering blog).

I was blessed enough in January to go on a Mother Daughter Retreat offered through Notre Dame.  Oh. My. Goodness.  Not only did I enjoy the time spent with Abigail and Isabella, but I so very much loved meeting the other Mama's and daughters in attendance.

Fairly quickly, I came to understand something:  we are all just trying to figure this relationship thing out.

Daughters honestly and vulnerably shared that they are feeling stressed and pressured about staying balanced with academics, sports, and extra curriculars, all while trying to apply for college, and plan their futures. It's like this cloud of anxiety, that follows them, some of it coming from home, but much if it, self induced.

Moms were shocked by this.  Many of us had absolutely no idea that our girls had this constant sense of stress.

And Mamas?  Well, we feel the same exact way, except regarding parenting, and working, and like being happily married.  Half the time, we don't know what the hell we're doing,  We make a decision that we think is best for our kiddo, but there's like no manual, you know?  And we're left thinking: "God, I hope I'm doing okay.  I hope I didn't totally mess that up."

Our daughters had NO idea this is how we felt.  This new nugget of information, that Mom is treading water, appearing to know what she's doing, while winning an Oscar for being an amazing actress, was a "Come to Jesus" moment for them.

During group sharing, we were taught that if someone said something that struck you as truth, you could wiggle your fingers in agreement.  Simply, it's called Spirit Fingers. (like Jazz Hands, but like ND style)   Little waves from the digits that said, "I hear you, girl", "Oh my gosh, I thought I was the only one," I'm feeling you my sister!"  And Moms waved their fingers as other daughters or Moms spoke.  And vice versa.  And by the time we left, a brief 36 hours later, one thing was crystal clear: we were bonded.  All 28 pairs of us.

ALL of these daughters felt like they were mine.  In fact, I have since seen some of them on the ND campus or at different functions, and we come together in an excited, messy and unrehearsed hug, or a little wiggle of spirit fingers.  And the twins are so visibly embarrassed by my enthusiasm, that it just makes it all the better.  Because if either one of them turns away from me like they don't know me, that's MONEY!

Just this past weekend, Tom Walsh Super Genius and I attended a Couple's Retreat in one of our favorite places ever: San Damiano in Danville.  Imagine the majestic and lush green mountains from The Sound of Music, ( but a little less Alp-y, more rolling hills) and me as Frau Line Maria.  Except that I cannot carry a tune to save my life.  And I am no nun, nor have I ever entertained that notion.  Also, Tom doesn't blow a whistle for our kids to line up (actually, not a bad idea),

But we DO have waaaay too many kids.  So see?  There is at least one thing we have in common!

Now leaving as a couple for two days, is just a tad bit different, than blasting off by yourself.  There are small people to farm out to multiple locations and people,  plans to be executed regarding pick up and drop off, and clear directions for like not letting the house burn to the ground if  you happen to be a teenager who is occupying, said house. 

You know, the little things.

 In fact, on Friday afternoon, around 4 PM, guess where I found myself?  No, not the Pub silly, but that would have totally been my vote if I was you, too.  Bo and I took a field trip to the vet.  You see, the Beast had a dew claw, hanging on and off his paw, simultaneously.  It was split straight to the quick, and I knew if we waited, infection was sure to set in.  Now mind you, Tom and I were supposed to leave no later than 6 PM, and here I was, promptly handing over my grocery money to the Vet (who is totally saving up for a Yacht), ((and probably just bought her second vacation home somewhere tropical)), (((but I'm not bitter))).

Let me tell you in lay man's terms what $306 will get you regarding your Black Lab: one dew claw ripped off, lots of anti-biotics, a handful of pain meds, one cone of shame, and peace of mind.  I knew I would be thinking about that stupid dog all weekend if I didn't check that off the list.

Finally, at 6:15 PM on the Friday evening of a holiday weekend, we were off: that's code for we sat idly in unmoving traffic. But with no kids chirping in our ears, it was like a mini vacation.  There we were, Tom Walsh Super Genius behind the wheel, and me riding shot gun, listening to the new Serial podcast.  It was so romantic  practical.  And awesome in an extremely simplistic way.

Upon arrival, our dinner plates were handed to us, and we were escorted to join the other couples in the dining room.  We were immediately embraced by the presenting couple, Karla and Richard, and one of our favorite Priests, Father Rusty.

A huge piece of this equation is how this trio interact not only with each other, but the couples who choose to join them on this weekend long adventure.  Karla and Richard have been married for 27 years, have 4 kids, and their love for one another is tangible.   Tom and I especially admire their ability to be transparent and vulnerable in their sharing, all while truly being present and in the moment.

 I am not sure about you, but I don't know many people who have that gift.

Father Rusty, well, I like to think he's a Mystic.  He's part of the Franciscan Order.  I don't know much about the Holy Orders.  The whole ordeal with Priests and Nuns sort of reminds me of  Fraternity/Sorority Rush Week in college.  You pledge, try to impress, pay your dues, probably drink too much, and then, you realize where you belong...or who wants you.  I'm not sure how that all works out.

All of the Catholics who are more knowledgeable than me regarding this topic of Orders (basically, anyone who's breathing, and who's been baptized), stop shaking your fists at me!  I can feel your rage.  I will Google the deets later, and get back to you.  And if I'm coming totally clean here, I was never in a Sorority either.  So I have absolutely no idea what Rush Week is about. But I did dress up for Halloween one year like a tri-Delt.  So that counts for something.

Or not.

Honestly speaking, I have more respect for people who choose a Holy vocation, than I could ever express here.  Just for clarification :)

The first night, Tom and I were blessed enough to light a candle in the chapel representing our intention for the weekend.  As each couple put their candle in the sand bowl, the church walls became illuminated that much more, representing that collectively, our marriages will burn brighter and stay lit longer, if we are in it together.

We also were lucky enough to receive Reconciliation as a couple.

You can re-read that last sentence if you need to.

I know!!  I know you're saying, "WHAT the wha?  WHY would I want to confess anything to anyone, let alone, do that craziness in front of my beloved?!"  Believe me, I was right there with you last year.

I love how I convince myself, "You know Michelle, you're a pretty good person.  You haven't really sinned that much," And soon as we begin walking over to the Chapel, shit starts to get real.  And the tears come.

And I realize that I  harshly judge myself and others.  And that I lose my patience far too quickly with my children and Tom.  And that I have negative thoughts about myself and others.  And that I have a mouth like a sailor.  And the tears continue to flow.  And I realize that I am human. And I make mistakes, and that's okay.  Because I am still lovable, even with all those scars, and marks, and flaws.

And after that, WE DRINK WINE because Confession is very hard work, and if anyone deserves a drink, it's someone who just aired out all their dirty laundry.  And the weekend closes on Sunday with the renewal of our vows.  And it's really beautiful.  And it reminds me of the very first time Tom and I said yes to each other 18 years ago.

 And I know it's cliche, but I love him so much more now, than I did then.

And with the chaos of raising kids (while hoping we're not completely screwing them up), trying to put food on the table, (to feed the small Army of offspring we have created together),  communicating lovingly and openly about all topics (emotionally draining, and not for the weak of heart), I find peace in knowing that Tom loves me completely.

And even more importantly, he loves me unconditionally.

Each of these Retreats have delivered these little whispers of truth.  And all I need to do is show up, be still, listen, and be willing to receive the goodness.