Which Opinion Is Really Mine?

There are about 60 blog entries to prove that I feel insecure in my capacity as mother.

BUT--insinuate that four might be too many for me as Dallin's Aunt did last night, or suggest that I am too young as hairdressers have for years, or that children's needs are best met in families of two children ideally spaced as several neighbours have, and here's the earful you get:

"Well, it sure seems to me that people educated, conscientious, and reasonably compassionate as I am ought to be having very large families. If we leave all of the child bearing to people who are so uneducated, stupid, or irresponsible as to think that raising children takes no thought our future will be grim. We who are trying to teach children to be socially responsible, honest, loving people need to have enough children to outnumber the ones who are growing up in a catch-it-as-you-can approach to values. I fully expect that my children will become responsible, hard-working, honest, kind people because of the effort that my husband and I are putting into their upbringing now. They are fortunate to have a father who sets an example of hard-work, honesty, and perseverance. They are lucky to have a mother who is sacrificing all sorts of things in order to go on every school fieldtrip, bring them home at lunch time when they need it, teach them to love people and literature and right. They already have learned to value courage, defending right, helping the weak, speaking the truth, education, and more and I've only had 8 years with them!"

And beware of mentioning to me how expensive it is to raise children, because that's a whole other tirade about what is really required to create these idyllic children mentioned above and by the way Dallin and I have three degrees between us and not a cent of debt for it. So there.

Well, it doesn't happen too often, but every now and then, I think, or at least say, how great a job I think I'm doing and how splendidly my children are turning out. You just have to ask the right question.

What's Up With Moods?

Why do we go to bed feeling sad sometimes?
Other times with the same set of circumstances it all feels OK.

Birds were singing today. The sun was shining. I bought plants. Children were jumping barefoot on the tramp. Cold cereal was for dinner. And everyone got their chores done, though not cheerfully.

So what's up with moods? Why feel heavy hearted in the face of all that?

Is it realizing I've already gained 35 pounds and still have 14 weeks to go?
Is it my friend going through a divorce that seems so unfair and so eternally tragic?
Is it children whining over chores?
Is it not having had a real meal in three days?
Is it that the mess of a crazy week and a weekend away is all still in every corner of the house?
Is it the $70 I spent on plants and seeds with the weak hope that I'll grow more than that in garden produce? And the even weaker hope that my children will eat any of it?
Is it concern that Dallin carries such a heavy burden to provide for us and pay for this house and continue our comfortable lifestyle complete with piano lessons and store-bought hot dog buns?
Is it worry about when and where Dallin will find a job?
Is it guilt that I am not doing anything to bring in income?
Is it self-absorption?
Is it realizing that my favorite non-Brooks person turns 40 in three days and it's too late to do anything more than say, "You're my favorite"?
Is it that when I decided to have one of those beautiful slow-down moments of watching my kids play and being nearby that it disrupted them and it all ended in arguments and bedtime?
Is it missing my husband who is gone and will be for most of May?
Is it not liking my haircut?
Is it distance from family?
Distance from the ocean?
Distance from my goals?

Maybe it's not enough sleep. That was always my mother's solution--"It will look better in the morning." I've found it to be true, but still,

what's up with tonight?

Do I Have To Clean This?

No wonder my kids say it. Do I have to?

Why Are We Driving Again?

Until I got married, I thought civilized people all flew any distance greater than three hours.

And they all live within two hours of an international airport.

And they definitely do not drive past four airports on their way to somewhere more than three hours away.

But here we were driving again this weekend. Seven hours. Leaving Saturday and back on Monday. The return trip with no Dallin. So I was dragging my feet (out of the bottom of the Flintstone's car) about the whole trip. And as the kids whined, and I exited in downtown Seattle by accident, and we all felt queasy from car snacks and fast food I wondered why on earth we would be doing this again. I hate it.

But, on Sunday, after hearing the missionary homecoming talk of a young woman Dallin baptized 12 years ago, he said, "There is no place in the world that I'm as loved as I am here." And that was worth the 14 hours.

What Should I Have Said?

At the hairdresser the other day I mentioned that I was giving a presentation that evening so it would be nice to have a new haircut. She asked what kind of presentation and I sort of stammered until I stumbled upon--"I volunteer for my church and this is a class on the joy that can come from keeping a Sabbath Day."
I could see the awkwardness in her face in the mirror.
"I believe a day that is different from the rest can rejuvenate us," I said. Then I changed the subject.
But there were 40 minutes left to my haircut. And somehow, the conversation kept turning to her self-defense:
-Her ex's mother was Amish and was always unhappy when they did anything on Sunday. "Oh." Subject change.
-The Mennonites in Mission complained to a store owner that his store shouldn't be open on Sundays, but they would still go out to eat on Sundays. "Hmm...that's too bad." Subject change.
-A child told her that unless she went to church she wouldn't have anybody come to her hair salon. "Really?" How many times can I change the subject?
-She was a very spiritual person, who believes in community, but doesn't go to church.
-She finds Abbotsford a very churchy community.
-She has to work on Sundays as a hairdresser. Etc.
OK. OK.
Was it an attack on her to say that I am teaching a class on the Sabbath Day?
Did I miss my chance to explain how much God loves his children and how there is something even better than just being a "spiritual person"?
Is this the missionary opportunity that someone else might sieze?
Did I have a reponsibilty to defend religion in general?
Was I a coward or was this all going in the wrong direction from the start anyway?

Again?

The first time he lost his wedding ring we were on our way from one reception to the other. It was a 12 hour drive and we were about an hour into it. We had packed the car. We had traded vehicles at the mechanic's. We had dumped our trash into a dumpster. We had gassed up the car. We were distraught. We prayed. We drove back. We found it on the ground by the dumpster. We said we would get it re-sized right after the honeymoon. We never did.

The second time and third time and ninth times he lost it are all a blur. With every succeeding one, I feel a little more callous and a little less deserving of an answer to our prayer. After all, a trip to the jeweler would save us all these faith-promoting excursions.

I looked at the five foot depth of brambles, bushes, lawn clippings, and blackberry bushes where the ring is now and said, "Well, I guess that's that."

Dallin said, "It's got to be right here." A few hours later, he decided to rent a metal detector.

We'll see.

*27 April 2009--Dallin found it. No metal detector needed. Just persistence and faith. He also said we never looked for anything close to a "few hours." It felt like a few hours. He found it where I had been sitting and half-heartedly searching. Ooops. He's on his own next time.*

What Do You Get For A Free Haircut Coupon? (Part II)

An unsure woman. (Who is a bit unhappy that the 15 inches did not also remove 15 pounds and 5 years.)

A long braid.

A grumpy boy who can't keep the long braid.

And a kiss on the neck.

Not such a bad deal.

Is This A Battle We Can Win?

Maybe we should all just reclassify dandelions as a perennial and sell their seeds at the nursery.

What Do I Win?

Surely after all of those hours of filing our nightmare taxes I must win something for finishing.

A trophy? A free trip? Flowers? A day off?
How about just a guarantee that the government won't come after me with guns or requests to see my post-it notes full of calculations?

This year I didn't even win a refund. Bummer.

But, I did win membership in a pretty amazing country.
*A country where our son can have hundreds of thousands of dollars of MRIs and brain surgeries and medications without us worrying for a minute about the cost. (We did resent the $12 a day for parking, though.)
*A country that has been free from war on its lands since it wasn't actually Canada yet and it had a small skirmish with the U.S. (Don't discuss with a Canadian who actually won that battle.)
*A country that accepts other cultures into it so openly.
*A country with Wonderbars and All-dressed chips.

*A country that came up with the funniest ad campaign I have ever seen (Diamond-Shaped Shreddies.)
*A country that gives parents 50 weeks off (paid) to begin their new baby's life off right.
*A country where a striking Sikh temple is directly across from our beautiful Stake Centre with a parking lot the size of Texas.
*A country with the most beautiful National Anthem I know. (And I've heard almost all of them because we have an electronic globe that plays them all.)
*A country with so much untouched and glorious nature.
*A country where when you write to Santa Claus he actually writes back. (That's because the North Pole is actually in Canada, of course.)
*A country where you can vote for one of about 11 parties (including the Communist, Marxist, Marijuana, and Annexation Party-which is fighting to be annexed as the 51st State.)
*A country so small that you can still register to vote in pencil just before you cast your ballot and they don't ask you for proof of citizenship.
*A country where stores all decrease their hours, or close down completely, on holidays. (It used to drive me crazy and Dallin would insist it was because Canada valued family time more than commercialism. I've finally decided he's right.)

A country that let me join and doesn't mind that I'm American too.

(Sariah becomes a Canadian Citizen--September 2007)

Won't Anyone Write A Long, Wonderful Blog Post For Me To Read?

I've been filing these dumb taxes for days now and I would take any distraction on the planet.

I've already had a piece of pie,
read old blog posts,
scanned the news headlines,
and looked at pictures of my own kids on the screensaver for many minutes.

Please?

What Do You Get For A Free Haircut Coupon?

Orange hair.
A shocked mother.
A happy boy.
And a lollipop.







What a great deal!

What Is Hope?

I was given a blessing when Chas was in the hospital a year ago that instructed me that I was to have hope.

I had been trying to grapple realistically with what a 33% chance that he would never speak again meant. To be realistic and face the numbers head-on felt wise. To hope seemed naive.

Now I'm in a position again of needing to hope, but I don't know what that means.

Does hope mean to act a sentiment of light-heartedness until I feel it sincerely? Fake it 'till you make it?

Does it mean to trust that it will all be all right in the end? The so-far-away eternal end? Well I know that, and it doesn't quite feel like hope.

Does it mean to wish?

Does it mean to pray? Because one of the things that an understanding of the gospel brings is a knowledge that trials, even severe ones, are in the Lord's plan for us and that they will strengthen us. Prayer brings us to the Lord, but it doesn't tend to eliminate trials (Joseph of Egypt or Nephi or Joseph Smith, for example.)

Is it to expect that Dallin will get a job soon enough that our lives aren't disrupted?

Is it to feign certainty that Chas will not grow another brain tumour?

Is it to count on everyone else's confidence that my children will turn out fine?

Is it just to endure challenges cheerfully?

I have heard that it is to anticipate a positive outcome and prepare for a negative one. That feels like a cop-out. In other words, they don't know what it means either, so let's just cover both bases to be safe.

Is hope in the scriptures really only about hope in the saving power of Christ? I do have complete confidence in that power. And it is an anchor to my soul. And it keeps me from despair in this and all other trials. So is that all? Just sit tight and it will all be OK decades from now.

Jeremiah says we should hope and "quietly wait" on the Lord.
Jacob says that he wrote the words of scriptures hoping that his children would receive them with thankful hearts. Many did not.
Moroni, Alma, President Uchtdorf and others say that hope and faith and charity come together.
In Psalms it says that hope is about not forgetting the Lord's works and keeping his commandments.

Maybe hope is just continuing to be aware of the Lord and to do what's right while we wade through stuff.

What Would I Do Without Cold Cereal?

It saw me through two decades of picky eating.
I think it saw my mother through too.
It provides a morning off every Sunday.
It sustains me through 3 AM pregnancy hunger pains.
It answers, "What's for dinner?" in two easy steps--pour ceral, pour milk.

In the last 24 hours it has been three meals (including one at 3 AM).

It's 2 Weeks Since Conference, How Far Behind Am I On My Goals?

Umm....14 days.

Math equation for General Conference here.

Is It Hypocrisy To Teach Something I Don't Know How To Live?

What if I went to a University and tried to teach Biology? That would be a bad idea. My last biology class was in Grade 12 (it was Grade 9 Biology.)

My assigned workshop topic for this Friday's Relief Society Stake Super-Something-or-Other is "Finding Joy in the Sabbath Day."
I agreed before I knew the topic.
I said, "I would be happy to."
I didn't mean it.
I might be happier if it were entitled, "Surviving the Sabbath."

My visiting teaching companion, who is about 65, said this was the last workshop in the world she would choose to attend.

Me too, I think.

Was Sugar Invented Back Then?

We argued with our children this morning about whether they could put more sugar on their cold cereal.

Dallin helpfully reassured them that when he was a boy, he never got sugar on his cereal.

Chas wanted to know: "Was sugar invented yet when you were little?"

Which One Is Really My Life?

My life looks better in pictures, I've decided.

It looks like I have my act together.

It looks like my children are carefree and content.

It looks like I create happy, meaningful experiences for my family.

It looks like my children cherish one another.

In pictures it looks like all of those other blogs. All those scrapbooks. All those Christmas Letters. It almost looks like a Mormon commercial.

Do You Want To Marry Someone Just Like You?

One time, a long time ago, someone asked me who I wanted to marry.  I described the perfect somebody. 

 

Then he said, "Do you want to marry someone just like you?"

 

I considered on it and decided, yes, someone exactly like me would do just fine.

 

Well,  in a lot of ways, that's what Dallin and I signed up for. 

 

Both so passionate and intense and loud.  Both too serious and desperate for righteousness.  Strong, determined, stubborn, and excessive.  Both inconsistent and maybe insecure. 

 

I was once in a group of women who are a lot like me.  They were the strong women, gregarious, leader-types.  One by one it came out that they each were so grateful for a husband who was calm and gentle, steady and slow.  One by one they said how well their husband, very different from themselves, balanced them and their home.  I was the only fireball among us that had married another fireball.  It was a troubling moment of realization for me.

 

Dallin and I don't balance each other.  We're both on the same side of the see-saw.  It's hard sitting on the dirt on the down end of the see-saw, but at least we're there together. 

What's A Recession?

"It's a recession when your neighbor loses his job.
It's a depression when you lose yours." (Harry S. Truman)

Well, we are in a depression now.

How Could This Possibly Foster Family Unity?

"If you can't speak nicely then don't talk to each other at all."

"I said, 'Don't talk to each other!' "

How Many More Days Until I'm 6?

Last year, it was about May when Chas started wondering about his next birthday. For 11 months he was sure it was "coming soon."

This year he made it exactly 41 waking minutes before he said, "I'm almost 6. Just one more year."

How Can I Give My Kids An Over-Inflated Image of Me?

My Mother's response to my posting about her was,

"Honey, I love you, but you have an over-inflated image of your mother."

How can I give that to my kids?

Did I Miss Anything?

When I woke up Chas this morning to carry him downstairs for breakfast-in-bed with his Daddy on their birthday, he said,

"Did I sleep late? Did I miss anything?"

Did you miss anything? Are you kidding? You are the anything of today. You are the everything.

Answer #3 -- I am so very glad to have you both.

Why Can't I Turn Into My Mother Like Everyone Else?

I have the grey hair.

I lose my keys.

I sound like her on the phone.

And I have a big smile.

I worry about my weight.

I wear only one type of outfit (hers is pullover dresses, mine is jeans and t-shirt.)

I like to read.

And I like everybody. Even "characters."

But I don't laugh at tense situations.

I don't know what to do when my children melt down.

I don't control my words.

I don't look on the bright side like she does.

I don't keep at it until I fix it.

I don't think I can figure it out myself.

I don't see the real-life applications of scripture stories.

My kids don't know I adore them the way I knew my mother adored me.

Why can't I turn into my mother?

Everyone else turns into their mother.

If I can't turn into her, why I can't I at least be the woman she thinks I am?

Is There Anything Better Than Wearing Your Underwear On Top?

Do You Throw Socks Like This Away?

Me: Do you throw socks like this away?

Colleen: Are you kidding? I wait until there's an actual hole.

Me: Me too.

Colleen: And then I feel guilty that I don't know how to darn socks so that I can fix them.

Now this is a Kindred Spirit.

Am I Glad We Are Doing This?

The Resistance

The Charts

The Bribes

The Tears

The Drive

What Could Be Worse For A Body Than Charred Inflated Sugar?

That fire is made completely of our garbage.

Why Do They Want To Eat EVERY Day?

I don't remember eating so often.
Or being fed so often.
Did my mom make dinner EVERY night?

I think it will be cold cereal tonight.

Only because we already had hot dogs for lunch, so I can't do that again.

Why Don't I Live In Utah?

• A babysitter who adores my children. Even when they're awful. (And she's free.)
• Chicken or Hamburgers on Sunday evenings that I didn't cook.
• "One more hand around," at 11:00.
• And Ten No-Trump without the Joker.
• A second opinion in my decorating.
• A shopping buddy who says, "Let's take it home and think it over there."
• Piano performances full of motivating praise for my children.
• Golf pals for my husband.
• A mortgage 1/4 the size of ours.
• Big Chas for Little Chas.
• Aunt Nicole for my girls.
• My Big Brother.
• A break for a moment.
• A date every now and then.
• The headquarters of our greatest (only) fan club.

What are we thinking?