Wednesday, October 31, 2007

How Many Presents Do We Need?

I listened to a very cool radio broadcast last night by Dr. Stephen Bezruchka. This link is not to the broadcast I heard; the broadcast is under copyright and has to be purchased, but the paper purports a lot of the same ideas. It is a lengthy read, but really worth it. He has studied population health for the last 20 or 30 years and cites the "sickness" in our society as the underlying cause of most medical ills. The radio program was more focused on mental health; the paper is more focused on physical health. Which, Dr. Bezruschka asserts, are linked so closely that one closely follows or comes with the other. I am going to study his ideas a little bit more and get just as liberal commie pinko as Nemesis; then I will blog a little more about what I've learned and what I think.

But the thing that has me really going today is that I went down to buy a very little bit of Halloween kitsch the other day--you know, cups, plates, stickers--and everywhere I look there are signs on all kinds of random products proclaiming, "Makes a Great Halloween Gift!" I found this thing below on-line in about four seconds. And obviously your kids need this because . . . .? Oh, right, the NEIGHBORS WON'T BE GIVING OUT POUNDS OF CANDY FOR FREE ALREADY!


The section of cards for Halloween has grown to be about a 100 feet long. The whole array of cards says "Halloween" at the top complete with all the labels underneath:
Romantic

For Him
Halloween--Best Friend
For Kids
For Grandkids
Halloween--Birthday
Thank You
With Sympathy
From Pet


Okay, I'm being a little snarky, but you get the idea. I know that retailers keep putting Christmas out earlier and earlier, but this is the first time I've noticed Halloween co-opted as a gifty holiday. Dr. Bezruchka talks at length about the problems with advertising too. Boy, have I got a doozy of a post coming up. Oh, and I've been reading The New Yorker lately as my subscription just renewed. I'm feeling awfully blue today . . . .

Monday, October 29, 2007

Lessons From the Journey

I was thinking this morning what to post about--more job stories, random thoughts I've had lately about the interconnectedness of all peoples and aspects of their religions, Celtic festivals manifesting as Halloween, or Scallywag's spinning (backstreet boy style) during the Primary program while the obedient children all around him sang AND signed "I Believe in Christ."

But none of these seemed quite right. Then, this afternoon, I went visiting teaching. I met one of the ladies we teach for the first time. Seeing as how I blog with NOBODY from this area, I'll give a few identifying details to help you see what valuable lessons I learned this afternoon:

She had two children die of a fairly rare genetic disease--one was 12 and the other was 9.

She has a son with such severe bipolar disorder that he had to recently leave a career of 12 years to move back in with her and her husband.

She and several of her siblings joined the church together, without their parents, when they were teenagers. It took many, many years for her parents to join.

Her husband joined the church about the time their son died, after they met Elder Maxwell.

Elder Maxwell sealed her to her husband in the Salt Lake temple after their son's death.

She had a late term miscarriage within two months of her son's death.

Bipolar Disorder runs in her family and she has had many cousins and siblings suffer with it.

She has one surviving child who has children and had to wait until she was nearly 60 to have any grandchildren.

She spent 20 years as an addiction counselor and speaks with joy about her work that way.

She has spent so much of the last few months visiting with grandchildren and caring for her son that she hasn't attended church very regularly. My companion and I had wondered if she was inactive . . . but the truth is that I have seldom meant somebody with such pure testimony and spiritual strength. Our visit was wonderful (except for my screaming children) and I feel like my trials have been very light. She spoke about letting go and trusting the Lord to be in charge and then told of some incredible spiritual experiences she has had a result.

I was truly taught today, though I was supposed to be doing the teaching.

Thursday, October 25, 2007

Glad To Have Boys

There are days I wish so much for a daughter that it almost hurts. Then, there are the other days . . . .


My boys have really gotten into Diego lately so we spend some time every day watching Nickelodeon. I rarely get the TV shut off in time to avoid all of the commercials, and this latest product has put me over the edge for brain exploding madness.


I am sure I'll hear from all you mothers of girls out there telling me this is harmless. And with all the R E A L things to worry about in the world, you are probably right. Still, I can't help but think that you are setting yourself up for disaster allowing your daughter to play with a product that encourages spending money on princessy-stuff. The commercial is completely disturbing as girls in princess garb use their "debit" cards to buy jewelry and tiaras. What killed me is that the amazon.com product reviews were all about how parents didn't feel like the product worked very well.


I guess the parents who put their foot down on this kind of thing just didn't comment. And I'm really not sure what it is about this particular item. I have often though various cash register toys (especially in combination with food) were cute and could be good play to learn tools. I don't know, maybe the Disney cash register reflects what I wouldn't want my daughter to learn . . .


Now, I'm sure I've offended some of you. And if you saw the copious amounts of train related paraphenelia at my house you would probably say, "Who has fallen for every commercial trick of the American advertising industry?"


Probably me.

Wednesday, October 24, 2007

I Just Wish I Was Smarter

Some weeks back my mom went to a regional women's conference thing where Sheri Dew was speaking. As she often does, she related a story about the Prophet. Apparently she had dragged her feet for a long time over a professional decision that needed to be made; by the time she made it, it was nearly too late and she could have averted a near disaster if she had acted sooner. She was relating this to the Prophet because their meeting pertained to Deseret Book. The Prophet said little as she talked through the situation. As she finished, she shrugged helplessly and said, I just wish I was smarter."

The Prophet said, "I wish you were smarter too, Sheri."

??????????????????

Then he smiled, laughed at his own joke, and leaned back in his chair. Still, he didn't tell her he was kidding. He merely said, "I wish we were all smarter. I guess we just have to do the best we can with the gifts God has given us."

This morning I had my own I-just-wish-I-was-smarter moment too. You know, you go along for a while feeling pretty charitable and kind and getting along with everyone and then . . . .

B O O M

You do or say something you regret. This morning my sister and I were talking. She called to wish Scallywag a happy b-day and we shared the news from living in two different states, as we do a couple of times each week. Though my sis and I are not all that much alike, we tend to view certain things about the world in the same way. This is good--it gives us something in common and empathy for one another's perspective, but it can also make us judgmental and narrow-minded. Today, this commonality of opinion did the latter.

She and I ended up having a right good gossip fest about a couple of people (oh, and their families) that I really love. At the time, I guess the venting felt good or gratifying or something, but now I just feel gross. Shocker!

Why is it so hard for me to learn this lesson? This happens every few months. And yes, it is usually while I'm talking to my sister.

The worst part is that yesterday, a friend in our ward asked me to speak at the fireside for our youth next month. Topic: Let virtue garnish thy thoughts unceasingly. Really, good, STM. Way to get yourself all fired up for inspiration.

If I can't be smarter, I just wish I would more frequently remember to do my best with the gifts God has given me.

Thursday, October 18, 2007

Everyday Adventures

Every day kid adventures are a riot. Scallywag pretended to be a pirate all day today. He kept singing at the top of his lungs, "What do you do with a scurvy pirate? Make him walk the P L A N K!" He said, "Hey mom, I'm a really scruvy pirate. Smell me! ARRGH!" Maybe one day I'll explain to him what scurvy means.

Yesterday he spent the whole evening in a cape, terrorizing anybody he could get to play along. He kept telling me he was going to save the university from Dark Fader. (Translation--the universe from Darth Vader?) He can't decide if he wants to be a pirate or a cowboy or a farmer or Thomas or a superhero for Halloween. My guess is, as long as there is candy he just won't care. And in light of Halloween's imminent approach, PLEASE check this out.

Wednesday, October 17, 2007

Do Not Go Gently

I love living in a place where autumn really behaves like autumn. It is as if the year is saying, "I may be going to sleep for three months, but I will go out in a glorious blaze of color and bounty." For the many things I did really enjoy about living in Texas, autumn was the time of year I always wanted to be somewhere else. It didn't seem right to sweat through Halloween costumes or to run the air conditioner on Thanksgiving. Now we are living in a place that really does autumn correctly.

One of my blogger buddies apologized some days back on an email for not blogging more often. She says this time of year brings out her squirrel tendencies and she is so busy canning, yardworking and storing up that she has time for little else. This really impressed me. And though I don't have a yard of my own, there is so much inexpensive produce here by way of farmers' markets that I may have to actually teach myself to bottle up some of this autumn goodness to enjoy later.
Last Friday I took the boys to a pumpkin patch. You know how you sometimes get two hours of perfection with your kids? That was Friday. The baby woke up just in time to nurse before we met our ward there just after lunch time. The weather broke for a few precious hours and Scallywag and Pirate have seldom had as much fun in the mud. For a mere two dollars each boy got a hayride and any pumpkin they could carry. (The result is two very small, misshapen pumpkins. I like to think this says something about the Charlie Brown qualities of my kids.) I wore the baby the whole time and he didn't even fuss once. It was one of those moments when I said YES! I CAN DO THIS THREE KIDS THING! I won't give details about the afternoon of tantrums . . . .






So the next day, Plantboy (isn't he cute) and I decided that we would take the kids to another farm, a little further away and pick apples with them at a mere forty cents a pound. Scallywag is really into the Golden Delicious variety these days because they did a taste test during science time at school and it was the clear winner. Saturday was not the day of perfections. We didn't even manage a couple of hours of perfection. The weather was gorgeous, but there were a lot of people and the boys absolutely did NOT want mom and dad to go so crazy at the Farmer's Market there. Nor did they want mom and dad to sit and listen to the hilarious country band while eating amazing apple cobbler and ice cream. They wanted a hayride NOW. Unfortunately, the clydesdales needed a break just as we showed up and we had to boys tantruming so ferociously by the time they were back that it didn't happen. Still, the photos are cute and I'm sure the memories will fade enough that we'll do exactly the same thing next year.









I have no record of the exceptional apple pie baked on Sunday. Our hometeachers helped us devour it when it was less than an hour out of the oven. Try fresh cream (unwhipped) over your next slice of apple pie. Oh. It. Is. Divine.

Although I'm glad to know the truth of things scientifically and spiritually, I have such a love of the Greek myths. One of my favorite is the explanation for why the seasons change. Demeter, the goddess of the harvest, had a very beautiful daughter, Persephone, who married the God of the Underworld (I forget the details on this part), Hades. Demeter was in such despair that she turned the earth into an eternal winter, nearly killing all of the humans off. (You've got to love the passions of those gods.) Zeus had to intervene or there would have been no more life on the planet. He compromised with his brother Hades and half the year, he had to send Persephone back ot her mother. He agreed. The ancient Greeks built temples to placate Demeter, goddess of the harvest, so that she would bless their harvest enough to see them through the winter.

While there is not a shred of truth in the story, there is something archetypal, fundamental and satisfying about the storing up against winter, even in our modern life. I have been grateful this week for the harvest God has given me.

Sunday, October 14, 2007

The Small Plates Portion of my Blog

Some weeks back, Nemesis gave a talk in church and then posted the text of her talk the following Monday. I thought it was a really nice and uplifting way to begin my Monday. And as I've tried to make this blog not just a record of the journey, but a log of the things I've learned, I think I will do the same. I'll post pictures later in the week of our fun weekend at the pumpkin patch and the apple orchard.

Text of talk dated 10/14/2007

Since getting married just a little over eight years ago, our family has moved nine times. These moves have taken us to very different parts of the country and all types of living arrangements. In the middle of all of this, we’ve had three sons, our oldest will be six in a couple of weeks and our youngest was just born in May. My husband and I have each held a number of jobs, and [Plantboy] has earned two college degrees in the same eight years.

When I condense our life together into a few short sentences, it sounds almost overwhelming, but with all this change there have been two important constants—our family and the church. Regardless of how far we’ve roamed from the parents and siblings we grew up with, we have the security of one another and the Lord’s promises to depend on. The church has been the other anchor in our lives. I have lived in over twenty different wards since graduating from high school, but I know when I go to church on Sunday there will be things that never change. [Plantboy] and I know that all we have to do is go the church on Sunday and we will be watched over and protected by the good word of God[1] and the love of his Saints. On the downside, it does mean we speak in church fairly regularly.

Our topic today is the Plan of Salvation. Rather than just give an overview of the plan, we chose to focus on just two key parts of the blueprint our Father in Heaven has laid out for our happiness. Today I will be speaking about the home and its role in preparing family members to learn of the Savior’s plan so that all will desire to make and keep both baptismal covenants and temple covenants. My husband will talk about the temple and its role as a place of spiritual refuge and progression.

As our world moves further away from the righteous purpose of families and proper relationships between men and women, it becomes that much more important to teach our children the sacred purpose of their lives and to give them faith to set proper goals and to work to attain them. In her Conference talk last week, Mary Cook, the second counselor in the Young Women’s General Presidency, quoted from For the Strength of Youth pamphlet saying, “being part of a family is a great blessing. . . . Not all families are the same, but each is important in Heavenly Father’s plan.”[2]

The bible dictionary states that “only the home can compare with the temple in sacredness.”[3] This is a heavy responsibility for each family member. And while all families do not look alike, each of us have assumed some role in a family, or maybe many roles—parent, child, grandparent, aunt, uncle—each person has a unique part to play in the overall harmony of the family unit.

To learn more about proper family roles, we need look no further than the words of the prophets. It is interesting that the Proclamation on the Family[4] begins with a basic overview of the Plan of Salvation and the family’s purpose of helping the Father with his “plan for the eternal destiny of His children.” With so many dissenting voices about what people, particularly, young adults should be doing with their lives, The Proclamation teaches the following doctrines in clear and distinct terms:

1) Marriage is ordained of God and spouses should cleave unto one another and none else.
2) Children are a gift from Heavenly Father and should be treated as such. Husbands and wives should desire to have children, as well as to “rear [them] in love and righteousness, to provide for their physical and spiritual needs, to teach them to love and serve one another, to observe the commandments and to be law-abiding citizens wherever they live.”
3) Having children is not to be taken lightly and children are entitled to be born in a family to a father and a mother.
4) Mothers and Fathers have certain primary responsibilities, though they are equal partners. Families should carefully consider their individual circumstances before deviating from these duties.

Though these principles are primarily aimed at parents, there is part of the Proclamation that applies to any family member. “Successful . . . families are established on principles of faith, prayer, repentance, forgiveness, respect, love, compassion, work and wholesome recreational activities.” President Hinckley’s talk that included the first reading of the Proclamation in 1995 makes clear that every person has the privilege of helping create a successful family, and that each of us has the responsibility to increase Christ-like attributes in our respective homes.

In her Conference talk, Sister Cook also spoke of the need for each person in the family to follow prophetic counsel to pray, study scriptures, and to keep the other commandments. She said, “As you commit to these patterns of righteousness, you will be blessed throughout your life and will develop the spiritual foundation from which you can strengthen your family by example.”[5] She then spoke with love of her brother whose example helped her parents desire to go to the temple and be sealed to each other and their children. She quoted Elder Robert D. Hales: “If the example we have received from our parents was not good, it is our responsibility to break the cycle. . . . Each person can learn a better way and in so doing bless the lives of family members now and teach correct traditions for the generations that follow”[6]

My own life has been blessed because one person decided to break the cycle. My mother grew up in a home with parents who differed widely in age and with whom there was little communication. Their activity in the church and her father’s employment was spotty. The only nurturing my mother received as a young girl came from a much older half-sister. My dad’s upbringing did not reflect a very strong foundation in the gospel either, but my parents made a decision when they were married to be active in the church. My mother gathered lessons on love and parenting from the sisters in her ward and the friends in her neighborhood and she learned how to be a righteous mother. We did not do everything perfectly, but I never doubted my mother’s testimony or her commitment to the Savior. Because of her faith and her diligent teaching of the gospel plan, all of her grandchildren have been born in the covenant. Her children have served missions and taken callings, and countless others have been touched through her own church service. One person can indeed make a difference.

Though our covenants are made with our Heavenly Father, it is through our interactions with others that we prove whether or not we will keep them. I think the baptismal covenant as set forth in Mosiah makes our obligation plain. Alma had been teaching the people for many days. They were so spiritually starved that they left their homes and gathered in the wilderness to hear his preaching. He laid forth the first principles and ordinances of the gospel—faith, repentance, baptism and the Holy Ghost. When they felt the joy of the Lord, they wanted to know how to follow. Alma explains the covenant in plain terms.[7]

8 And it came to pass that he said unto them: Behold, here are the waters of Mormon (for thus were they called) and now, as ye are adesirous to come into the bfold of God, and to be called his people, and are willing to bear one another’s burdens, that they may be light;

9 Yea, and are awilling to mourn with those that bmourn; yea, and comfort those that stand in need of comfort, and to stand as cwitnesses of God at all times and in all things, and in all places that ye may be in, even until death, that ye may be redeemed of God, and be numbered with those of the dfirst resurrection, that ye may have eternal life—

10 Now I say unto you, if this be the desire of your hearts, what have you against being abaptized in the bname of the Lord, as a witness before him that ye have entered into a ccovenant with him, that ye will serve him and keep his commandments, that he may pour out his Spirit more abundantly upon you?

We know from the rest of the account that the people rejoiced as they made their covenant. We don’t know any individual detail about what happened with these people later, but I think, probably not unlike us, once the initial euphoria of their spiritual experience wore off, they had to daily recommit themselves to the responsibilities of their covenant. The best way for any of us to prove the sincerity of our baptismal or temple covenants is in our charity toward others. There is no better proving ground for our souls than in Christ-like treatment of our families.

Sometimes this can be hard. It is not always easy to serve our family members, even when we know we should, and even when experience teaches us that service is the best way to be happy. For me, being a mother is sometimes frustrating. It isn’t just kids that get tired and cranky sometimes! As I try to guide my children, it sometimes seems like I have been forgotten; that any other thing besides mothering has been put on hold indefinitely. During his conference talk, Elder Packer spoke of the new calling one of his sons had. He said that though pleased with his son’s new responsibilities, it was the work in his home that was the most important. He said, “What my son and his wife are doing with their little children transcends anything they could do in the Church or out. No service could be more important to the Lord than the devotion they give to one another and to their little children. . . The ultimate end of all activity in the Church centers in the home and the family.”[8] When I feel tired and frustrated, I try to remember the importance the Lord has attached to the work we do in our homes and pray for strength to serve cheerfully.

We must not forget that every diaper changed or four a.m. feeding, every roommate consoled, every bruised knee kissed, every game of catch, every granddaughter taught how to cook, every article of clothing shared with a sister and every niece taken for an ice cream cone will teach love—both to those we serve, and to ourselves. The more love we show and act on, the more love we feel and the greater capacity we are given to serve. When families of any shape and size and configuration are filled with love, teaching the gospel and the purpose of life is the next logical step. As we serve one another with real gladness in our hearts, we become the Lord’s covenant people who will one day inherit all He has.

In conclusion, I would like to tell you about Russell. I met him when I’d been on my mission about five months and we felt impressed to knock on doors in his street. The first discussion was not promising. Russell’s house wasn’t clean, nor was Russell. His hair was long and unkempt and his clothes were dirty and ill-fitting. Though he held a full time job, much of his excess income went to alcohol and cigarettes. Later he admitted that he only invited us to teach him out of boredom.

Russell was not a golden contact, but the Spirit began working on Russell in quiet ways, and almost imperceptible changes began happening. First he cut his hair and dressed more carefully. He threw out his alcohol. He began reading scriptures and praying each day. There was religious music playing in his home when we came for our discussions. The night he decided to join the church he said, “I want to be baptized because the Spirit is the most beautiful thing I’ve ever felt and I never want to be without it again.” I learned, some months later, that he had finally given up cigarettes. A fellow missionary told me that he wore a new suit to church the day he blessed the sacrament, instead of the ill-fitting suit left over from the 70's that he had been wearing. He began saving his money so that he might more often visit his four sons who lived in another city. I lost track of Russell about the time I came home from my mission; the last I heard is that he had quit his job to move closer to his children and begin rebuilding a relationship with them.

Some years after I had been home, through an unusual set of circumstances, I learned of Russell again. He was serving as a member of a branch presidency in the small town he had moved to years before, and his son, who had been baptized some years before, had just been sealed to his wife in the temple.

As the Spirit and the knowledge of the plan of salvation worked on Russell, he became a contributing member of his family. The family he had once thought broken beyond repair, has begun to heal through Russell’s diligent living of the gospel. Such healing is within the reach of every one of us.

As we head into the coming week, may each of us determine to do one thing to better keep our covenants to our Father in Heaven by serving our families with cheerful hearts. I know that as we magnify the love in our families, and establish patterns of righteous living, gospel teaching becomes easy and natural. Our homes will indeed resemble the temple in sacredness as they become havens from a world void of direction and purpose.

The Lord lives and He loves us. Of all the wonderful gifts he has bestowed on us in our lives, one of the best of these is family. Of all His wonderful promises for the life to come, the best of these is the knowledge that family relationships do not end with death. As we form families based on His principles, we will progress through our lives according to His plan and learn what we must to live in his presence again.

[1] Moroni 6:4
[2] Ensign November 2007, “Strengthen Home and Family”
[3] Bible Dictionary under “Temple”
[4] Ensign, November 1995, “Stand Strong Against the Wiles of the World”
[5] Ensign November 2007, “Strengthen Home and Family”
[6] Ensign, November 1993 “How Will Our Children Remember Us?”
[7] Mosiah 18:8-10
[8] Ensign, November 2007, “The Weak and The Simple of the Church”

Thursday, October 11, 2007

2

The longest stretch of sleep I had last night. It is funny how you forget certain things from child to child. For example, as I've allowed my children to be tummy sleepers at very young ages, they all go through this thing at about four or five months when they wake up a lot. Why? Babies master that front to back roll a LONG time before they can do back to front.
Two is also the number of hours of television Pirate watched this morning while Mommy dozed on the couch. The plan was very effective until my visiting teacher dropped by. She is extremely sweet and even told me my hair looked nice though my house was a disaster and I was wearing my pajamas. Maybe my hair does look nice. I haven't seen a mirror yet today.

And Zippity Do-Dah wanted a sitcom for moms? You've got it sister. These mini shows are hilarious, written by moms, for moms. Start with the trailer. Every episode is funny and they are clean. Okay, clean by sitcom standards; it isn't something you'd show, say, during a Relief Society Lesson. Plantboy tipped me off on these when he saw an Internet news release on them at Mother's Day. The graphic didn't come out very big, but they are calling for submissions. I have heard some stories here that could totally make the cut. Check out this link and scroll down to "Don't Talk to Them, They are Mormons," and read all the way to the L A S T paragraph. It is one of my all time favorite blogger-moments.

Wednesday, October 10, 2007

24



I've often thought it was ridiculous how much could happen to Jack Bauer in just 24 hours. But let me recount my last 24.

Tuesday 8 am--Scallywag gets on his bus, which came late on the day I really needed it to be on time. I turn off Poopy Pirate's show to get him dressed to go to the doctor for Captain Tootypants' four month visit (two weeks late). Pirate has his first tantrum of the day and I hold him down to dress him and wrestle him into the car. Tootypants begins crying because he woke up at six and is wanting his first nap. The clinic is not where I thought it was and I end up fifteen minutes late.

9am--I call the clinic in L**** to ask them to fax Tootypants' shot record to my new clinic. I fill out the paperwork while Tootypants cries and Pirate pulls out every toy in the place. We see the doctor who is really nice but find out that poor Tootypants is in single digits for both height and weight. The first of my children to earn this auspicious honor prior to their second birthday. We wait for the shot nurse. . . . and wait. . . . and wait. . . . Tootypants falls asleep in my arms while Pirate runs around the tiny exam room throwing his second (or third?) tantrum of the day.

10am--I get to the car and call the moms I'm supposed to have at my house for pre-school right at that minute to tell them I'll be late. I'm home about four minutes when we start preschool. We sing songs, I try to keep the kids out of the toys (it is their first day and they just want to play), and try to interpret the language of 2 1/2 year olds that are not my own. Princess Pink (one of the pre-schoolers) poops. She won't let me change her. We get out the playdoh (this is NOT a euphamism for poop.)

11 am--I referee playdoh while I clean up the breakfast dishes. I tell Cutie Haircut (another pre-schooler) that she can't mix the colors. She says nothing and just gives me THE LOOK while digging in deeper to the white she had and the red she stole from Princess Pink. She squeezes the mass defiantly in her chubby patties and I just decide there are some things not worth fighting over. Yellow eventually makes it into the mix. I read stories to Princess (stinky) Pink and Pirate while Cutie Haircut destroys the rest of the Playdoh. Play time! I pass out fruit snacks while Pirate walks around telling everybody what to play with. He also poops so Princess Stinky doesn't feel so lonely. Scallywag gets off the bus and yelps, "What are all these babies doing in the house!" He then demands a peanut butter sandwich because kindy snack time was only a square piece of cinnamon cake, not a triangle. Mommys come.

Noon--Clean up, lunch, Diego's Animal Safari rescue and some house clean up. Change to the big-boy pants because Poopy wants peep-treats instead of lunch. Tantrum # whatever we are on ensues.

One pm--Baby wakes up and all that comes with a child who had four shots in his less than chubby legs just a few hours before.

Two--Baby goes back down. Kids go outside. The neighbors are putting up a new fence and have taken out the old one, so if the kids are disobedient then they can easily walk through two yards and jump right into the open pool I didn't even know was on the block. Thankfully, kids are obedient and fascinated watching the worker-guys. Why do they always have to smoke? Three and four wasn't super busy. Just the typical mom stuff and house cleaning and never-ending laundry. Mommy gets a few minutes of down time.

Four--Comb hair and do make up. Change clothes. Run off Mapquest directions to the tutoring center where I will go to meet my first client. Plantboy comes home and gets his "instructions" for dinner, etc. I wake up the baby and feed him.

Five--Drive through half and hour of horrific traffic to get to the center. Meet my client. My cellphone rings, but I don't pick it up or look at the number. In the seven o'clock hour I find out that it was my home teacher who tried to call before dropping by, but dropped by anyway. I spend a half and hour working through six homework problems. Negative and positive numbers.

Six--I try to help my student through his science homework because it is covering the same concepts he is STRUGGLING with in math. I hope the CAPS show some of the mightyness of his struggle. He doesn't get it. Not. At. All. I meet Dad who happens to be a principle at a local high school. I think we may have some reasonable expectation problems here. Drive home through lesser traffic though still a pain. I turn my IPod way up. I listen to Keith Urban's Stupid Boy about three times. No reason. It is just a good wailing song.

Seven-- I come in the door to a nice spaghetti dinner, or at least I think it will be. The baby takes one look at me and starts wailing. Apparently Tootypants had been angelic until he saw me, but one look at Pirate's red, blotchy eyes told me that he had been less than happy during Daddy in charge time. Another look at Plantboy's face told me the same. Hold baby while I eat cold spaghetti. Hand off baby for Plantboy to change his horrificly stinky (cloth) diaper, sort laundry, help Scallywag clean up toys, Pirate refuses to help and has to be put in the tub kicking and screaming. I am soaked by the time he comes out. Put Scallywag in the shower, nurse baby while Plantboy deals with Pirate.

Eight--Put down Pirate and Tootypants, they fall asleep almost immediately. Small favors. Read to Scallywag, put him down. Go through Tuesday folder items and write out check for school pictures, wishing that Scallywag didn't have that big black bruise on his face where he and Pirate head butted each other while jumping on my bed. Remind Scallywag not to sing the alphabet song at the top of his lungs in the bedroom he shares with two sleeping brothers.

Nine--Begin to do dishes and decide I'm just too tired and want to go to bed. Then, for some reason I begin going through all of the products in the house hunting for Box Tops For Education.

Ten--Go to bed. As soon as I lay down, Scallywag begins crying and whimpering. I go into him. He is hot and grouchy and his cold medicine hasn't really kicked in yet. I change his pajamas and put him back in bed. Fifteen minutes later he begins calling out and crying again. He tells Plantboy he is scared of monsters. They pray, talk for the hundredth time about monsters not being real and put him back to bed. He lays next to me and tells me he is afraid of Star Wars. Plantboy moves him when he drifts off.

Eleven--Sweet sleep.

Midnight--Again with the monsters and Scallywag. I move him out to the couch where it is cooler and there is more light. Sweet Sleep.

Two am--Nurse the baby. He doesn't eat well, so I know he'll be up again, but I'm so exhausted I fall immediately asleep. Go back to bed.

Five am--Baby wakes up again. Plantboy's alarm goes off at 5:30 because it is Ride Your Bike To Work Day. Baby won't go back to sleep, but lays in bed squealing at me for half and hour.

Six am--Bounce baby to keep him happy to avoid waking up big brothers. Bounce. Bounce. Bounce. He is finally relaxed enough to lay down, but there is no point in trying to sleep as the big kids will be up any minute.

Seven-twenty am--I should have gone back to sleep. Surprisingly, they woke up very cheerfully and Scallywag even made his bus on time.

At eight I should have gone to sleep for at least thirty minutes while Pirate watched his last show of the morning, but I kept thinking the baby wouldn't last much longer. Again, mistake. Because here I am blogging and the baby is still sleeping. . . . only now the pirate is poopy again.

And just when I thought it had been a VERY long day, my mother calls to tell me that my sister is down and out with strep throat and a kidney stone. It can always get worse. :) Hopefully blogging my own version of 24 will keep a smile on my face through this inevitably exhausting day. And if it puts a smile on a few of your faces then it is as good as saving the world.

Monday, October 08, 2007

In a Moment

I thought of something the other day and Desmama's post from today reminded me of it again. I've often heard people who have been in severe accidents or live through terrible illnesses say things like, "I didn't realize my whole life could change so quickly." Most days you go along and everything is wonderful and fine and even the "bad" stuff can mostly be laughed about . . . . and then things happen that aren't funny and never will be. Like my cousins who were kidnapped for a few hours by a crazy ex-con. Like the fact that three of my cousins have lost babies. Like those terrible things that must be in your lives too; the things we brush under the carpet and spend much time trying to heal from and forget though they change us in ways that imprint forever.

Still, there are a lot of almost-terrible moments that we are somehow, miraculously saved from. I had one last week with my Pyrex. I can't tell you how often I've got one of the kids in the kitchen while I'm cooking. The older two are often helping, the baby is often in his bouncy seat on the floor. I was wearing long sleeves and probably just tall enough to avoid the worst of the glass. Not one of my little munchkins would have been so lucky. Whatever Providence had them all safely away from the scene of the accident at that particular moment was a great blessing for which I am so grateful.

I had one of these almost moments many years ago. I watched my children play on the sidewalk and gutter in the front of our house the other day and I remembered:

I was about five and playing with my friend on the front lawn. This part of the memory is so vivid that I remember what the doll blankets looked like that we had with us. My 18 month old sister was playing with us in the front yard. While the doll blankets and my friend are vivid, the rest is a bit of a blur--traumatic memory and all of that. AJ (my sister) walked into the road. A friend of a teenager who lived up the street came screaming around the corner. I remember hearing the brakes screech.

Somebody must have run for my mother, or maybe I did. My next memory is of a whole lot of people hovered around AJ laying there by our mailbox.

She had a bruised temple. That's it. I don't remember anybody ever scolding me, though I was probably supposed to be keeping her close to me.

I don't know why this almost-awful memory has invaded my brain this week. What a difference a few inches or old brakes or one mile an hour faster would have made to my family! It is guilt that my mother and I would never have been able to erase. Instead, coupled with other things that happened with AJ as a young child, we now just laugh about how accident prone she was.

I once left home in search of my brother who had gone to a park. Mom thought we were together. I was picked up by a random lady who thought I was lost because I was on a tricycle and beginning to look upset. Somehow, though I was only three, I was able to tell the kind woman where I lived. Plantboy was left at home when he was just 18 months. Their large family would not fit in one car and it was in the days before car seats. Each parent went a different direction assuming the other had him. He got out of the house and was wandering down the street when a concerned neighbor took him into her house.

I've been reading a book this week that has many elements I don't agree with necessarily because it is full of all kinds of made up doctrine, and is a little warlike, but there are parts that are so thoroughly touching I have been unable to get it out of my head. I cried like a fountain at his description of Heavenly Mother and Her heartbreak over the decision to cast out a third of her children. The author's characterization of Lucifer is spot on and frightening. I've wondered how much we knew of earthly missions before we came here. I've thrilled as I've looked into the eyes of my children and wondered at the valiancy of their spirits. Why has my own life been presereved and my way so easy? What promises did I make my Parents before I came here?

On a lighter note, there is much about parenting that IS funny. The Lord does protect us from so much and each day we have is a chance to rejoice in all that is good. I've had a couple of different people forward this video clip to me. If you haven't seen it, and if you are a mom or have ever had a mom, this is one of the most clever things I've come across in a long time.

And wasn't conference great?

Friday, October 05, 2007

A Prophet For Our Time?

My brother-in-law sent me an email today asking me to sign a petition. The petition was put together by some group that was eventually going to be forwarded to Oprah Winfrey for the topic of show she had recently about "open" marriages. This is basically where the couple is candid with one another about affairs and feel this is good for their marriage. The episode, apparently, was advancing this idea as an acceptable alternative to "traditional" marriage. In addition, much attention was given to how healthy pornography is for a relationship. I think my reply to my brother-in-law is worth posting here as a forum for discussion as we head into this weekend of conference talks:

Oprah has been anti-marriage for years. I've seen her gloat with female celebrities over their singleness and desire to not be married. I've heard her say that marriage is antiquated and that it has outlived its usefulness. This is one of the main reasons I quit watching her a long time ago. She is not a political party; she is a woman with strong opinions and uses her talk show, in part, to promote a pro gay rights and anti marriage agenda. A petition is not going to change what she does or who she is. If the networks agreed to drop her syndicated show because of her various discussions then she might at least tone down her topics, but the networks will only drop her if people quit watching. But people DON'T quit watching. Instead, we circulate petitions asking her to change her opinions so that we don't feel guilty tuning in.

The sad part is, she does some incredible humanitarian things. If other extremely (or even moderately) wealthy people would start doing things on their own like she is, the government wouldn't "need" to ask so much from people. (I've heard lots of ultra-conservatives say that if they weren't taxed so heavily they could give more away. I think it is a load of garbage. If the government takes less of your money people just buy more stuff, and I'm not talking about food and clothing or basic shelter. With more money you just eat out more, buy designer labels and enormous homes. Our society is a perfect example of this.) I think her work in Africa is brilliant. She continues to do just enough of this stuff that sweet women everywhere keep watching her while her anti-social agenda is advanced.

In the Book of Mormon, there is a part that talks about how people reject true prophets only to raise up those as prophets who tell them what they want to hear. I've thought this description has fit Oprah perfectly for a long time. People are willing to listen to anything she says and call her one of the most "progressive" thinkers of our time. The truth is, three shows out of five preach contrary to all gospel teachings. (And 99% of all statistics are made up on the spot.)

This weekend we can turn on television in the day time and find a real message of hope and understanding for our marriages. We can listen to what the Lord has said will work to keep our relationships secure and balanced. We can have courage to shun things that will infest our homes like a cancer. And it won't be because a group of concerned citizens sent a petition to the leadership of the church.

It will be because a prophet of the Lord has been called and set apart to receive revelation not just for our church, but for the world. Only listening to his voice can we find the solace we seek.

Happy viewing.

Thursday, October 04, 2007

As Per Your Requests

I'm sharing recipes today because, truthfully, I'm too sleep deprived for anything else. After announcing proudly several weeks back that my baby was sleeping through the night, he changed his mind. I am grateful for the four or six weeks that he did sleep through the night because it was right in the middle of unpacking, but I'm back to not getting more than three or four hours in a stretch.

Part of the reason I love these two recipes is because they came from my old ward cookbook. That ward still feels like "home" to me because my parents lived in that ward 20 years--all of my growing up. And though they've been in their "new" home twelve years this month, their ward has probably split five or six times and except for a few months here and there I never really have lived in that house. Anyway, this cookbook was so wonderful it was reprinted about five years after its initial printing and my mom bought two extra copies to give to my sister and I as wedding gifts. I will spare you the green jello shrimp mold, but these two are fabulous.

Lou Ella's Lickety-split Brown Sugar Muffins
(Lou Ella was a neighbor up the street from us. I've never met anybody that could talk the way she could. She was only 4'11'' and her husband was about 5'3". He was our home teacher for probably five years. She died a few years ago.)

1 C brown sugar
1 C milk
2 C flour
1/4 tsp salt
1 egg
1/2 C butter
1/2 tsp baking soda
1 tsp vanilla

Mix ingredients together well (electric beaters don't produce as good of results). Pour into greased or papered muffin tins about 2/3 full. Bake at 375 for 15-20 minutes. One dozen.

So easy! And you nearly always have the ingredients on hand for them. That is why they are a Sunday favorite. Delicious and not fancy. They are very sweet and fatty--almost like a cupcake. There are some great and tasty variations on these that we've tried also to make them a little more healthful or just different, but still good. You can use any of these modifications in conjunction with each other or separate:

* cut sugar back to 3/4 a cup
* sub applesauce for part of the fat
* add 1/2 cup of nuts
* sub one cup of white flour with whole wheat bread flour
* add 1/2 cup of finely chopped apple
* add 1/2 cup of oatmeal

Orange Rolls
(The woman who submitted this was one of my mom's best friends. Her son and I grew up together in the same ward, though he was always in the Sunday School class ahead of me. I never thought much of him until he and I were part of a school trip to London when we were juniors. We became much better friends after that, and I still am interested to learn what he is up to. Anyway, this sister was the queen of all things domestic, but she was not one of those women you hated for her gifts because she was always charming and nice and helpful and willing to share her talents. She made my wedding cake.)

This recipe is not for the faint of heart, but so worth it.

1/3 C oil
1/4 C sugar
3/4 C scalded milk
1/2 C cold water
1 Tbsp yeast sprinkled over 1/4 C warm water and 1 tsp sugar
1 tsp salt
1 egg
3 1/2 C flour
1/2 tsp grated orange peel

Scald milk and pour into a large bowl. Add oil, sugar, cold water and egg. Add 1 Cup of flour, orange rind and salt. Mix. Add the yeast mixture, then remaining flour. (You may need slightly more than 3 1/2 cups total). Let rise until double. Punch down and let rise 5 minutes more. Roll out on a floured board in a rectangle. (The rest of the directions are my own as they vary slightly from the original.)

You can do these rolls a couple of different ways. You can make large or small cinnamon roll type buns or you can put small rolls into greased muffin tins. The biggest difference will be the size of your rectangle. I roll mine to just over two feet by about nine or ten inches. This dough is divinely soft and fabulous to work with.

Spread with soft butter--dont' be chintzy. The recipe calls for sprinkling the butter with sugar and grated orange rind--no amount specified. At this stage I also add chopped Craisins (orange flavored if you can find them) and I think chopped pecans or walnuts would be fabulous too, but the boys in my house boycott almost all foods where they can actually SEE the nuts. (The two expections are cashews in the stir fry and pine nuts in the pesto.)

Roll up, and cut into 3/4 inch segments using the string method. Put them in the pan and let them raise in a warm spot 45 minutes to and hour, covered. Bake at 375 for about 11 or 12 minutes, depending on the size of the rolls and the desired doneness.

These are especially fabulous with the following glaze:

Beat together 2 tsp of soft butter with 3 oz of soft cream cheese. Juice the oranges you took the rind from and beat the juice into the cream cheese mixture. Add some powdered sugar and beat. If it is too runny for your taste, add more sugar. Too thick--add more juice (about 1 tsp at a time).

They are delicious glazed warm, but if you glaze them all they are hard to store and stick together. After you and your husband have eaten about four of these apiece fresh out of the oven, I store them in a container with a lid and just glaze them individually and then microwave them for a few seconds until warm.

These rolls are delicious and festive. They are kind of a Christmas Day brunch tradition with us, but you have to make the dough pretty early in the morning. Plan on three-four hours start to finish. Unless you make homemade pizza and explode some cookware during the process. Then you are looking at more like six or seven hours. I wouldn't recommend this.

Tuesday, October 02, 2007

Does Anybody Have Any Chocolate?

This is supposed to be a recipe post, but it says something about the strength of the bonds formed via blogging that I've decided instead to share some news here, first, instead.

I just heard from Covenant Books . . . .

And they are NOT going to further consider my book.

The first time this happened, a couple of years ago, I wasn't really surprised. I thought my first finished novel had its strengths, but not very publishable, as there is just too much stuff in that genre. This one, however, was the right idea at the right time. I have a feeling that if this book doesn't go anywhere , then I probably don't have one in me that will ever go anywhere.

Let's just say it is a perfect finish to the mood I've had hanging around off and on for the last couple of weeks. Still, tomorrow is another day, and the writing compulsion will come again and tap at the corners of my brain until I have to answer. And, as I've told Plantboy many times, I'm not writing for money or fame or even influence. . . .I write for me. The stories and thoughts build up until I'm sure I'll begin talking to myself if I don't get them out.

Monday, October 01, 2007

Details

It sounds like for some of you, the details won't be necessary. For you who have not had this icky thing happen, here is the run down of my Saturday afternoon.

The first bad thing that happened is that the Ducks lost in the last minute of the game. I'm a fair weather sports fan, it has to be admitted. I glom onto whatever local team is the best--when my brother-in-law played for the Y, I was a Zoobie every Saturday for a few hours. Then I was an Astros fan for a few years. The last two winters I've been an Aggie basketball fan. But now, we have a fabulous local football team to support. Anyway, they lost Saturday in a really big, nationally televised game.

After the game I started making pizza dough, about 4:30. Homemade pizza, though you don't have to hover at every step, seems to always take us about two hours from start to table. I was so organized and together, I thought, "Hey, I want to make some orange rolls too." So I started a second batch of dough. It must be noted here that the orange rolls are to die for; even the batter is fantastically fragrant.

We (Plantboy loves to help with this one) begin getting busy on the pizza, in earnest, about 5:30. One large crust and two small (each in a Pyrex baking dish). We bake each pizza twice. The two small crusts went into the oven just as Captain Tootypants wakes up from his nap. I nurse the baby, and when I'm done, the kitchen is filled with a horrible burning smell and the window is open. (No, no explosion yet.) Plantboy had burned some bacon he wanted on his pizza and was trying to air out the kitchen. He was just finishing the boys' all cheesy mini pizza. For lack of a better place to put the pizza while it waited its second cooking, he put it on the stove top.

I was standing there also, the second little pizza on the front of the stove. I was anticipating a fabulous all-my-own pizza in about ten minutes as I sprinkled red peppers, fresh basil, tomatoes and bacon (from the first unburnt batch) all over the top. I was just putting on the cheese when . . .

I am not sure if I saw the smoke or smelled the burning first. I looked up quickly to the back burner and saw billows of smoke coming from the BOTTOM of the boys' pizza. A quick glance told me the burner was on HIGH. Thankfully I had the presence of mind to grab a pot holder (as I tell me science kids--hot glass looks just like cold glass), and then I slid it to the front burner. Just as I was about to give Plantboy the lecture there was a huge explosion and a scream. (From me.)

I was grateful all weekend that the only person in the kitchen was me. I'm also very grateful to have come off completely unscathed except for a tiny cut incurred during clean up. I was probably less than a foot away from the exploding dish. Still, I was pretty shaken. A minute later, Scallywag tried to enter the kitchen and I screamed at him too. I had visions of his beautiful bare feet cut to ribbons. And Scallywag, being the temper boy that he is, lost it and went to his room furious and refusing to ever eat pizza again since I had ruined his. Poopy Pirate had to be shooed out of the kitchen every three minutes for the rest of the night, and by this point, the baby was wailing at full force.

The two little pizzas were covered with glass. We saved the large one. Dinner was about 45 minutes late. The bulk of the clean up took place after the kids went to bed. I finally started my orange rolls about 8:30, and then about 9:30 I started my posters for Enrichment Super Saturday. About 11:30, the last batch of orange rolls came out. Oh, and I made two major mistakes on the poster.

In the midst of all this, I realized I had halfway hoped to be organized enough to make it to the Relief Society meeting. Yeah, right.

So next time you think your life is under control, just blink. It can all spiral downhill very quickly. I'm only sorry I didn't have the presence of mind to take a picture. By the time I was able to chuckle over the experience and begin thinking, "This would make a great blog," the worst was cleaned up and the picture I could have taken would have been weak.

Plantboy was so apologetic and sweet about the whole thing and did most of the cleanup. He refrained from saying, "That was . . . awesome!" until he could see I was much calmer. He even helped to stick together part of my poster and pulled orange rolls in and out of the oven all night. Aren't hubbies cute when they help? (Check out the first 2 1/2 minutes of this clip.)

Despite the setbacks, it was a good food weekend all around--besides the eventual homemade pizza and the orange rolls, we made this really creamy, yummy corn chowder on our rainy Sunday night. Plantboy made my family's favorite "Louella's Lickity Split Brown Sugar Muffins" to go with. Oh, and we finished the evening with another family favorite: The Man From Snowy River.