Five Areas for Self and Home Improvement

Whew, this turned in to a long post with lots of unimportant details. I actually started writing this more than two weeks ago. But I really wanted to jot down my thoughts on improving myself and my home. I think a good reflection is important every now and again. 

With the aid of several self-help books I've been really focusing on improving myself as a mother and a homemaker. I'm a little surprised by how much I enjoy self help books. I've always been a goal oriented person, but I've felt that slip in the past few years (basically, I'd pin it on my exit from the workforce). Self help books have encouraged me to refocus how I set goals and what I set goals for.

That said, here are some things I'm working on and some of the wisdom I've gained as I've read a few different books in particular. The ideas in this post mostly come from Parent Effectiveness Training (Gordon) Duct Tape Parenting (Hoefle) and Clutterfree with Kids (Becker). Parent Effectiveness Training (P.E.T.) pairs so well with Duct Tape Parenting, I almost want to read them both again, back to back this time. Both authors have a clear understanding of human relationships and psychology. Their knowledge is admirable. Both are parenting experts who spent their entire career holding parenting classes that they later summarized in their books. Boy oh boy I would love to take their classes in person (I think Gordon has passed though). Books are great, but I think I'd make more significant changes if the instruction was given while the authors and I sit together in the same room. Likewise, as I read Duct Tape Parenting I just kept thinking Hoefle's strategies would be much easier for people who have mastered a clutter free life. Clutter causes stress and stress impacts our emotional intelligence. Hoefle's book isn't for people who have other problem areas in their life. Anyway, here are some of the takeaway themes I gathered across these different books.

Set Boundaries
Setting boundaries is a popular concept right now. Some of my boundaries are really specific. For example, when it comes to belongings I have decided to set certain limits on things like clothes and toys. I've written about my limited wardrobe before, but minimizing your closet isn't something you do just once and call it good. It's something I regularly have to check. Also, I've set limits (or boundaries) for the number of clothes my kids can have. Reid survived all summer with just two pairs of shorts, five tee shirts to match, and four exercise/pajama sets. That's not much, and yet it was plenty! Nell had three skirts with matching shirts, three shorts, three tees, and a couple of dresses. Again, it was plenty!

This may be one of the silliest things I admit to, but I have a google document tracking each of my kids toys. Reid and Nell are allowed 20; Coraline, 15, and baby, 10 (this includes things like the baby swing and jumperoo). Twenty toys sound like a lot, and it is -- trust me! And yet, we have had to get rid of so many toys. Now, anytime my kids get a new item they have to give another up. This gets tricky with collection type items -- like Legos. Currently Reid's Lego collection counts as 4 toys, but he certainly has more than 4 sets. I typically count two or three sets as one toy. Even with 20 toys on each of their lists, there are plenty of toys we almost never (or rarely) play with.

Communicate Clearly
Setting boundaries extends into our human relationships -- it certainly isn't reserved just for "things." For me, the key to setting boundaries with other people lies in more direct communication. I recognize I need to be straightforward when making plans with others or when expressing my desires and feelings. I also recognize that if people were more straightforward with me my life would be so much easier. This is a simple reminder that I need to be direct when agreeing to certain assignments or meetups. I also need to remember it is okay to say no!

Parent Effectiveness Training focuses quite heavily on communication. I have tried my best to implement "I" statements vs "you" statements when I become upset or am trying to express my feelings. It is so much harder than it sounds! But I know this is so important in my closest relationships. When I tell Reid "I get so mad when you don't clear the table" I am blaming him for my emotions. That is not okay. I am always in charge of my own emotions, but our closest relationships do have an impact on how we feel. So a better option is to say "I feel upset and disrespected when the table is a mess after each meal." This gives my kids a chance to realize I am expressing my emotions in a way that I take responsibility for them, but it also gives them an opportunity to realize they can help me feel better. Then, how much more meaningful is it when they remember to clear the table? Then, they are doing it to help keep me happy and not because I guilt, nag, and shame them! Win, win.

Give Kids the Space They Need to Flourish
Both P.E.T. and Duct Tape Parenting are very anti-helicopter parenting (which I find especially interesting because P.E.T. was written before that term even existed). One of Gordon's main ideas is that parents need to learn how to identify when a problem is theirs and when it is their child's. Any problem that belongs to the child (school, friendships, most behavior issues) needs to be solved by the child with minimal intervention from the parent. The parent simply helps by LISTENING to the child work out potential solutions and then following up with the child on how they handled the problem later on. Of course there are times when the problem is shared between both the parent and the child, that is called conflict (obviously) and Gordon gives six simple steps for solving these conflicts. Again, this process requires a lot of partnership and LISTENING. The parent can't just take control of these conflicts any more than they can successfully take control of their child's problems.

Hoefle also expresses the dangers of controlled parenting. She identifies four ways parents hinder their kids' growth.  She refers to this as "becoming the maid." The four reasons are: we want to spoil our kids (kids should just be kids), we think things go best when we are in control (they'll just do it wrong and I'll have to redo it), we think our kids are a reflection of us (what will others think if...), and finally, we need to be needed (she's not ready to do that on her own). She dedicates an entire section of her book to reminding parents (in detail) that their kids can do many things (chores, food prep, school organization) all on their own. And the base of her argument is that when we let kids do things on their own their behavior, attitude, and entire demeanor improves. I've really been trying this out in the past month since reading her book -- and I agree with her completely! In fact, when the Dentist recently told me I still need to help Reid brush his teeth I was kind of bummed -- "he's almost six, he can do it himself!" I thought. But, I've decided to help him a bit anyway.

Weekly Family Council
The Church I belong to has told members to hold weekly family councils for years, and while Ben and I have been good at holding regularly Family Home Evenings, we haven't really done family councils. But then I read Duct Tape Parenting and she mentions the importance of weekly family meetings and outlines some of the tasks that need to be completed at these meetings. For whatever reason, that made everything click and I haven't missed a Family Council since!

With our kids, these councils last less than five minutes. It basically has three parts. 1) I take out a notebook and everyone sets one goal for something they'd like to improve or learn during the week (mine is repeatedly to yell less). Reid chooses things like making fried eggs and pancakes. Nell's first goal was to learn to dress herself completely. All of their goals require a lot of work on my part, but if I really want them to flourish I have to train them properly! 2) We pay them a small allowance. I have been down the kids and finance rabbit hole over at 71toes.com and soon we will implement a money system similar to theirs. 3) The last thing we do is go over our weekly calendar and talk about any important things coming up. One thing Hoefle suggests that I'd like to implement is a family appreciation chart. I think we could take time in our Family Council to each say one nice thing about each family member.

Weekly Cleaning Schedule
This final area of improvement isn't actually from any of my self-help books, but in the last couple months I have tried really hard to keep the kitchen and dining area clean (and clutter free!). I've taught the kids how to clear the table and load the dishwasher (their's that flourishing thing again). I've forced myself to do the hand wash only dishes almost daily. I've been more dedicated to making weekly meal plans (yes, that is something that helps the kitchen stay clean). I try to not gripe about sweeping or baby wipe moping under the dining table several times daily.

I've also made a google document with my own specialized cleaning schedule. I know there are a million pre-made ones on Pinterest, but I needed one tailored to our home and my cleaning style. Basically, I dust, vacuum, and do laundry on Monday and Friday. I mop one area of the house on Tuesday (we have a lot of hardwood, tile, and laminate floors). These areas are vacuumed along with the rest of the house twice a week, but every other week or so they need a more detailed scrub. Wednesday is bathroom day, and Thursday is either a make up day (because I do regularly miss a day) or a more detailed clean of the basement or kitchen (stove, fridge, cupboards etc). I have not yet perfected this cleaning schedule, but I count anything I get done a win! And I should say, Monday and Friday are almost always completed with perfection. It's those midweek days I struggle with for some reason.


Wish me luck as I try to improve myself and my mothering. I'd love to hear any ideas those who read (or glimpsed over) this whole thing might have. 

Does Freedom Require Peace?

I've had the pleasure of studying the Book of Mormon as outlined in the 8-11 year-old teacher guide of The Church of Jesus Christ of Later-day Saints. That sentence felt wordy. Let's try again. This teacher's guide: Primary 4: The Book of Mormon, has been my study companion this year. Still weird? Oh, well.

This week I was teaching the lesson on Captain Moroni and the Title of Liberty. I feel like this is a story most LDS youth learn pretty early on. It's quite momentous. Moroni is upset that his fellow Nephites aren't following God, but instead seeking their own power and gain. So in an act of military leadership, he rips his coat and writes what becomes his military motto on it.

It reads: In memory of our God, our religion, and freedom, and our peace, our wives, and our children.

He then fastens this piece of rent cloth onto a pole (like a flag) and proceeds to put on his armor. Later, he uses this Title of Liberty to go and recruit his army. Those who join him promise to abide by this motto and never forsake their God. They swore that if they broke that promise, Moroni could leave them at the hands of their enemies.

It's a pretty intense pre-war cry.

After reading a few verses of scripture that explain this story, I asked my class to list the six things Moroni wrote on this torn coat.

"Religion and God," one responded.

"Wives and Children," another replied.

"Good, what else?" I asked as I wrote these on the board.

"Freedom?" said the first voice.

"Yes, and?" I proded.

"Liberty?"

"No, but the whole thing was called the "Title of Liberty," remember?" I corrected.

There was a long pause.

"Freedom and what?" I asked, realizing the other answers had all come in pairs.

"Justice?" a student said almost knowing for certain it was incorrect.

"No. Freedom and Peace," and at that moment it struck me. Freedom and Peace go together just like Religion and God, Wives and Children. Freedom and Peace are a set of two concepts that go hand in hand.

Freedom and peace.

When I came home I took a little more time to ponder this personal revelation I felt like I'd received in class. I didn't expound on it much in class, because it is my personal revelation, but it is such a profound thought to me.

Do we have freedom if our nation is constantly at war? Do we have freedom if our society constantly bickers with one another? Can freedom exist without peace?

Captain Moroni was fighting for his people's freedom (and, spoiler alert: he won), but he understood that, that freedom would not come until they were at peace. Peace would not come until they could stop defending themselves against the attacks of the Lamanites. Peace would not come until his own government and Church stopped having contention from the inside. It was actually this very inside tension that led to the Title of Liberty, not the outside threat of the Lamanite army. He created the Title of Liberty in response to a threat that came form inside his own city and amongst his own people. He knew his freedom depended on their being at peace with one another.

So can we truly be free if we are not at peace? 

Reflections on Bathrooms, Opinions, and How We Treat Others

Today my main news and social media sources were full of three big headlines. First, the ongoing bathroom battle. Second, Dennis Hastert's admission to sexually assaulting teenage boys. Finally, the BYU sexual assault and honor code dilemma. The details of all three topics are disturbing and tiring, yet I can't turn away.

All three are so intertwined my brain is on overload, and in an effort to keep my resolution of jotting down a few of my thoughts when my brain overloads, I'm going to share some of my concluding thoughts on the first issue. The bathroom dilemma. First, one simple solution that addresses all three: respect other people! Why is this so hard for us as a society? Sigh. Anyway, onto bathrooms.

I start with a confession: with the exception of a three day stint at IHOP, I've had little to no connection with anyone in the trans community. Even after all the digging I've done these past few days, I know little. Here is what I do know.

1. I do not need to agree with someone's life choices before I can appreciate their unique journey. I do not need to share their belief system in order to learn from them. But, I do need to listen to them if I am to nurture sympathy. And nurturing sympathy is a pretty important commandment in my book. Remember, agreeing with someone is not a precursor to understanding them or their personal situation.

2. Before I can form an opinion about something, I have to be knowledgeable about the subject. This often requires I do a little digging (thus the brain overload situation).

2b) As I mentioned above, my knowledge and experience with the trans community is limited. Before I could form an opinion I needed to identify and answer some basic questions of my own. For example, is a trans man a woman who transitioned into a man or a man that transitioned into a woman? I didn't know, so I googled it. Now I do know, but I won't tell you; do your own learning. Other questions I had included: can you legally change your gender and can you surgically change your genitalia? For the first question I really dug in, for the latter I just needed a simple yes or no. But knowing the answer to each of these questions felt crucial before coming to my own conclusion about the bathroom issue. Gain knowledge before you create an opinion!

3. Finally, I cannot control other people (my children hear me say "you cannot control other people" at least once a day, it's a family motto around here). The more society/law tries to control human behavior and interaction, the more complicated things become.

3b) Here comes my opinion with context from our current situation. Read at your own risk.

Until a few months ago people knew men used the men's bathroom and women used the women's bathroom. Recently, governing bodies decided to clarify what that meant for transgender individuals (an estimated .5% of the population). In the process cities have fought with states and states have fought with private businesses.

My conclusion is that the laws that try to tightly define who uses what bathroom are more likely to create the problems they are aiming to avoid. Laws that follow the basic rule of "use the gendered bathroom you identify with" are less likely to create problems -- also, these laws are more in line with the bathroom etiquette society has been following all along.

The standard bathroom policy of men in men's and women in women's restrooms make it easy to identify trespassers. The law that says you must use the bathroom that aligns with the gender on your birth certificate makes it more difficult.* Here's the conversation we'd have if I were to encounter a man going in to the women's room (and I was brave enough to encounter a man going in to the women's room).

Under standard use your identifiable gender approach
"You are in the wrong bathroom."
"I identify as a woman."
"I do not identify you as a woman and neither does my child. No one in the public would either. Please leave or this will get public and I will win."
Since they'd actually be a man in the women's room, they'd leave.

Under the law that makes us use what the Doctor assigned us at birth
"You are in the wrong bathroom"
"If you look at my birth certificate it says I am female."
... Where do I go from there?
"Show me your birth certificate?" No one takes those to the bathroom!
"Oh I'm sorry, I didn't realize you were trans-gendered..." awkward ... fearful ... basically this moment ends when I run away in shame or fear.

As for people who are not gender identifiable, I'd probably just not say anything and try my hardest not to stare. If they did catch me looking, I'd flash a polite (and sincere) smile and hope they know I care deeply about all humans, even if my manners are lacking from time to time.

In conclusion, I'd just like to add one last bit of (motherly) advice (for my posterity): care about the lives of people who are completely different from you. Care deeply. This is not the same thing as #1. This is taking #1 a step further. I may not agree with gender transitions, but I can care about the stress and anxiety non-binary or trans people feel when they have to use the bathroom in public. I can care about the high murder and assault rate of trans women (in fact, we should all care about that). I can respect the choice trans men have made, even if I believe gender is assigned before our birth. Caring about people does not require us to change our morals.  But not caring about them will damage our morals.




*If you don't believe me, google transgender men and then click on images. It's safe; I promise. Now, tell me you want those MEN in the bathroom with you or your daughter/wife/niece/sister/grandma/etc.

PS If you are ready to try number one, I recommend starting with these two links: Charlie Comero  and Kingston Faraday. They are the two stories of trans men that I found most interesting. I also read a heartbreaking story about a trans woman who was sexually assaulted in a men's (the gender she was assigned at birth) bathroom. I cannot find the link at this time. 

Elder Benson and the Birch Society

So, I've had this blog post on my mind for over a month now. But rather than writing it, I've continued researching Elder Ezra Taft Benson's political talks of the 1960s and the LDS Church's subsequent responses to his talks.

Right now, I can't even write what I set out to say. I'm too heartbroken. This goes so much deeper than I expected.

False prophecies, lies, physical assault, and so much more. I just sit here, thinking of all the people who were hurt by the careless actions of the Birch Society and it's influence among Mormons in Utah and I'm totally heartbroken.

But I will say this. Don't throw your anit-communist Elder Benson quotes at me. Don't you dare. If you aren't educated enough to see that, as a junior member of the quorum of the twelve, he delivered prophecies and speeches that never came to fruition then we can't have a civil conversation about his politics. If you aren't educated enough to realize that as Prophet he almost never spoke of politics -- even though he was Prophet during the fall of the Berlin wall -- than we can't have a civil conversation about his earlier speeches. He was Prophet during one of communism's greatest falls, and he made NO mention of it. Is that not strange? Does that not demonstrate a change of heart, at the very least, a change of direction?

President Ezra Taft Benson was a prophet of God. He was present during one of the Church's greatest revelations. As Prophet he delivered some amazing speeches (Beware of Pride is one of my personal favorites). His declaration to study The Book of Mormon and his bold testimony of that book will be a lasting legacy of this great man.

So please, please stop pretending like his anti-communist crusade was his greatest achievement. He eventually turned away from it for things of greater spiritual importance. Shouldn't we all follow that example?

Who is Who in American History

Once Upon a Time ...

There was a group of Americans who were being targeted by both reckless mobs and laws of the land. They were attacked by both militants and government officials. These attacks were based largely on the perceived tenants of the group. For reasons real or imaginary, most US citizens saw this group as a dangerous threat. The media did not help in these matters and was regularly printing one sided and fictitious reports. The group countered this bias when they created their own newspaper. 

As for the laws aimed at harming these individuals, they were harsh and extreme -- making it clear to members of the group that they were not welcome in certain areas of the country. Of course, there were some sympathizers and actions of kindness were shown on a few occasions. But the vitriol spewed at them was real, not imagined. 

This group of Americans had a creed that was readily available to anyone who might have cared to learn what the group's core beliefs were. Members of the organization eagerly tried to recruit new followers and befriend sympathizers. One of the group's core messages was that of service, they wanted all members to show an undying brotherly love for our entire human family. The group lived this principle by feeding and sheltering the poor and the broken. 

At various times there was dissent within the organization itself. Some members found fault with leadership and this led to brief moments of chaos from within. The stress that strained this group is real, not imagined. Unfortunately, at the height of persecution, leaders of the group broke the law. These crimes led to their eventual murders. Others within the group also committed crimes, even the shedding of innocent blood.  Opinions vary on whether or not these crimes were sanctioned by the organization itself. Some argue it was a few bad actors, others argue the leaders told members of the group to attack. 

In the end, this group was forced out of the country. They were stripped of their constitutional rights. They were attacked for exercising their first and second amendment rights. They sought due process and on a few occasions were found innocent of all wrongdoing. At other times, due process was denied and their leaders were murdered. To this day, their organization is viewed with question -- but productive conversation can lead to sympathy and understanding.

Now, who am I talking about? Mormon Pioneers? The Black Panther Party? Or both?

Obviously I am a proud descendant of the former group. I know my ancestors were misunderstood and mistreated. I know they suffered at the hands of hatred. As I matured I learned their history had some shaky moments. The group had financial hardships that divided them. Leaders broke laws. Leaders fired bullets back. These realities do not affect my faith. I accept that our histories are nuanced, and I can take these nuances head on and find beauty in all the layers. All the layers of our history and all the layers of the human experience -- they tell a story. And I love stories.

The story of the Black Panther party is extremely different from my own Pioneer heritage. We're talking different century, different approach, different goals -- so many differences. Most notably, I would never align myself with an activist movement like the Panthers. But because I came to the conversation seeking truth, willing to put aside my own biases and judgments in a search for truth, I also found sympathy and understanding. I saw all the layers of the human story, and I fell in love with the controversy and the heartache.

As a child I was constantly told to show others the kindness I hoped to receive from them. I know if someone were to give an earnest look into my Pioneer heritage they would walk away both confused by the blemishes and moved by the power of the human spirit. It isn't one or the other. When we examine others' stories all we are required to do is show the same kindness we'd like to receive in return. We may even find we have more in common than we think.

Kneel Before Your Magnificent Maker

Sunset taken earlier this month

This blog is just a hodge podge of thoughts. But today I had an experience I feel inspired to share with my children. I can't tell them now (partly because they are in bed, but mostly because they are 4, 3, and 10 months old). It's a simple story with grand impact. I hope you, dear reader, enjoy it as well.

During sacrament meeting today it occurred to me that I am too prideful. I am, but this isn't a story about that realization. This story is about a missing handle on my apple peeler/slicer/corer small kitchen appliance.

Last Wednesday we went to a local Apple Orchard for some apple picking. This Tuesday we picked some apples off a friend's tree. Twice now I've tried to harvest all these apples by turning them into yummy freezer sauce and dried apple rings. Twice, I've failed. My first attempt was last Sunday, and though I did complete a batch each of sauce and rings, the whole process was a mighty struggle and huge mess. In the end I threw my old apple peeler/slicer/corer in the garbage (and chanted mirror, mirror on the wall I am my mother after all).

My new apple peeler/slicer/corer arrived Thursday and thus began my second attempt at saucing and dehydrating. It also came to a frustrating end when I could not get the handle to stay on. To add to my misery, I had three small children demanding all my attention and my kitchen was (once again) a complete mess. I finally just threw my hands up and recognized that now was not the time. I quickly finished up a batch of sauce and decided to complete the task another day. Preferably one when I didn't have three small children around.

Which leads us to today. Coraline and Nell were napping and Reid, you were settled down in front of the TV (an unfortunately regular babysitter for our non-napping child). Dad and I got the kitchen all cleaned up and ready to apple! We had three slow cookers (for three big batches of sauce) and the dehydrator with five trays of rings out and ready to go! The apples were all cleaned and we both had a peel/slice/core station. Only, I couldn't find the handle to my brand new apple peeler/slicer/corer.

I was certain a basic cleaning of the kitchen would turn the missing piece up, but it hadn't. I took time to pause, ponder, and pray. And then I searched through drawers once again. Still, I could not figure out where that little handle (and it's screw) were hiding. Dad started the rings anyway, using the partially functioning peel/slice/corer. I settled on the old fashioned method of hand peeler and hand corer. Things were going alright, but I knew we could be more efficient if I just found the handle.

The thought came to me that prayer was going to help me find it, but I also knew I had to look. So I just continued shuffling through drawers and uttering pleas in my head. The second thought that came to me was "kneel." But I felt like I didn't have time. I didn't need to stop working, to stop looking, in order to offer a sincere prayer. Heavenly Father, I know you can help me find this! Where is it?

Kneel.

Finally, I acquiesced and got down on my knees. I offered the same prayer as before but with a heart that was humble. A heart that was not only pleading with my Father in Heaven, but also worshiping Him.

On my knees my mind was cleared. I knew I needed to go look through the compost bucket. Our yucky, rotting, overflowing, compost bucket. I headed outside with a certain confidence. Continuing a new prayer in my mind, I testified to my Maker that I knew He was great enough, that even if I hadn't thrown the handle in the compost during my fit of rage, He could place it in that bucket at this very moment. And I would find it. I grabbed the bucket by the handle, had a few bees swarm up near my hand, and I headed out toward the compost bin (not giving up at the sight of the bees is proof of my confidence -- they terrify me).

I poured out the basil plants I'd dug up Thursday evening. Then I sifted through rotten egg shells. Next I found all the apple peels and cores. I poured them out onto the lid of our large bin and began sifting. I was running my fingers through rotting, mushy food waste. Nearly everything was brown, and the handle I was looking for is brown. And yet I saw it. My eyes caught sight of it just as my fingers ran right by it. I let out a sigh of glory and relief and began looking for the screw.

As I walked back toward the house with both, I nearly shouted "You are Magnificent!"

All I had to do was kneel.


About a year ago I wrote you, dear children, a letter in regards to prayer. This story would seem to fit right into that epistle. But I needed to add it here tonight. It isn't enough to document, just one time, my thoughts and feelings towards prayer. It isn't enough to occasionally mention my gratitude for my Maker. I don't mention His wonder nearly enough on my little corner of the Internet. But tonight I could not go to bed without preserving this little story.

I am almost 33-years-old and I still (occasionally) pray with the silliness and faith of a child. I pray over missing appliance handles, and my God delivers me. Dear children, please, please, always know that God will answer your prayers. He may demand you humble yourself first. He may demand you kneel. But He will answer.

He wants to help you, but He will wait until you are sincere. He does not want you to take Him lightly. He wants you to really know He is there. And I want you to know your mother worshiped Him. Not just in big moments or before meals and long family car rides. But even in little moments, when I was up to my wrists in yucky compost, anxiously waiting to make you some yummy freezer applesauce. 

Utah 2015: My Small Town Through New Eyes

I once used the term "painfully small" to describe my hometown. My father asked me to expound upon that. I never did. There was nothing painful about the size of my town growing up. I LOOOOOOOVED it. I'm probably a bit over dramatic about how lovely and perfect and wonderful and amazing my childhood was. And I credit most of that to the painfully small town where I grew up.

But growing up I always "wanted out." At the time I didn't even really know what "wanting out" meant. I just remember always telling people I wanted to grow up and live in a community just like Delta but not in Utah. I loved the community I belonged to, but I didn't love the homogeneity of it. I also had this deep desire to view that little community with "outsider" eyes. After week long trips out of town I'd always try and pretend like I was a new comer, seeing main street for the first time. It never really worked. It always felt like the exact same place I'd left just the week before.

And though it does feel different now, I realize a combination of things make that so. I mean, after 15 years it truly is different. There are new businesses, new museums, and even a new school (a couple years ago Reid and I watched as an excavator tore down one of my favorite HS classrooms -- it was pretty awesome). There are new subdivisions and new people, lots of new people. As a kid I felt like I knew EVERYONE, and now I definitely do not.

The other factor that makes it feel different is that I am different. All I knew growing up was my safe and comfy little community. I rarely traveled out of state, but I spent plenty of time wondering about the world outside of Utah's boundaries. Now, I feel like I have a sense of the world beyond Utah, and that helps me understand my lovely little community even better.

I love it even more. I marvel at it's uniqueness. People often ask me if I could ever live somewhere like that again, now that I've had such quick and easy access to shopping and entertainment and city life, and the answer is yes. Without skipping a beat I say yes.

I probably never will, but that isn't the point. The point is I could. I've seen the cities and the economic opportunities and the ease of having constant consumption at my finger tips -- and it is not grander than community.

When Ben and I went Grocery shopping on Saturday I spotted a childhood friend I hadn't seen since my wedding reception. Though we know little of each other now, I was able to tell Ben so many good and wonderful things about this individual. How special to have someone randomly remember that in 5th grade, you stood up to bullies. And though many years have passed since then, I know that kind of character rarely breaks, and it did still show in her kind smile.

On Sunday we decided to attend Church out in the small farming community where I grew up. The first person we saw when we walked in the door was a boy my parents always teased me about during my elementary years. We sat behind an old childhood friend, who I occasionally skipped Sunday School with. Twenty years later her father was (once again) our Sunday School teacher, and just as if we were still teenagers he asked me, beaming, what I wanted more than anything else, and I happily answered "The Gift of the Holy Ghost." It was a great lesson in my youth; one that has always stuck with me. It was fun to see old faces and places, even when time has changed so many things.

I had a lunch date with two of my dearest friends on Monday.

It doesn't matter that nearly 15 years have passed since we each packed up and set out on our own (none of us live in Delta now), we still share such strong roots and those roots unite us. We sat at our booth for nearly four hours and still left so many things unsaid and so many topics ignored. We didn't even share that many "remember when" stories. With old friends as cherished as these you just pick up right where you left off and share your current joys and sorrows with one another.

Tuesday afternoon as my children and spouse were napping I flipped through my childhood scrapbook. When I got to the Middle School years I was dying. There were so many random pictures of friends who ended up being spouses. Plus, it was middle school and by nature it is so awkwardly awesome. As I was laughing to myself I decided I wanted to share this moment with at least one of those friendly faces, so I ran across the street and chatted with a childhood friend who is raising her six kids right across from my parents. Later that evening another face from those scrapbook pages stopped me in the garage and we chatted for a good ten minutes.

Wednesday morning we took the kids to library story hour, which was taught by none other than my very own sister-in-law. Reid was in heaven because it was animal themed. One mother remarked how impressed she was by his knowledge of obscure animals. I chuckled and gave credit where credit is due: Wild Krats. And I just couldn't get over how familiar she looked. Then it dawned on me. I'd babysat her (only about three times) as a child. For the life of me I could not remember her name, but I do remember how much she loved Wilbur from Charlotte's Web. I wonder if I looked even just a little bit familiar to her?

I definitely know I'm an outsider now. I don't belong to that community anymore, but it will always belong to me. And that makes it special. 

I am Conservative

Today, as I was hauling buckets of water across my yard, I contemplated just how conservative I am. The water was from our backyard pool (Reid filled it to the brim for hours of splashing fun), and I was transferring the water 70 yards, in a couple of buckets, to our fruit trees. It wasn't hard work, but it sure wasn't easy. It would have been much easier to dump all those gallons of water on to my nice, green lawn before turning the hose on my trees. But I am conservative. Note, I do not live in a region that experiences drought; we maintain our own well. Yet, my love of conserving precious resources had me lugging those buckets back and forth across my lawn (it took seven trips, two buckets at a time).

We have four fruit trees (the goal is to eventually have six). We have a 23x17 square foot vegetable garden. Our basement is full of food and non perishable overstock items -- preparing ourselves for any sort of personal financial emergency or natural disaster.

I support marriage between one man and one woman, and I believe, by law, they should vow to be fiercely loyal to one another. I believe sex should be reserved for such a marriage, thus eliminating almost any need for an abortion.

If ever in office, I would support abortion reforms. I would support a bill that would cut Federal spending by half. Half! I would support a balanced budget amendment.

I love religion. I love guns. I love my country.

I am conservative.

And yet, I don't identify at all with the Republican party.



I am a conservationist.

I believe the current fight for "traditional marriage" is one of the most blatant forms of hypocrisy our country has ever seen. I know the best way to reduce our abortion rate is not anti-abortion laws or protests. Abstinence only education does not work.

My balanced budget would cut all subsidies to any corporation or commodity that generates a profit. Almost all your tax deductions would be gone.

I want a country that takes care of it's poor. Better yet, a country that doesn't have any poor.

If our country stopped shedding blood and spreading arms across the globe, I believe we'd reap what we sow here on our own soil.

So yes, my life choices are just about as conservative as it gets -- but I don't identify at all with the Republican party. I know I'm just one lousy voter, but I think it is something they should consider. I abhor their policies, yet I'd make the perfect recruit.

What is the worst that could happen?

I've been contemplating the fear culture that we live in. It's exhausting. It isn't enough that the media (which I try my hardest to ignore) is always touting fear, but I feel like so many members of my own faith thrive on fear.

Well tonight, as I loaded the kid's dinner plates, I thought, as if having a conversation with someone who is always engulfed in fear, "what's the worst thing that could really happen?" And the answer came into my mind as clear as day.

The worst thing that could ever happen to me is loosing my faith in Christ and His restored Gospel. That's really the worst thing. That's it. And I have complete control over that.

I do not have control over nature or my neighbor. One may swallow me up in a massive earthquake and the other may call the cops on me for letting my children play in our backyard pool for 20 minutes without any adult supervision (I was watching from the kitchen window), but if I have faith in Jesus Christ and honor the covenants I've made with my Heavenly Father none of that matters. There is nothing to fear. 

Doubt not, fear not. Life really is that simple. It is beautiful. It is meant to be lived.

Let go of fear. 

The Tale of an Upside Down Lion

Or why I'm really afraid of sending my child to preschool.

left: Nell's lion, right: Reid's lion, courtesy library story time

At our most recent trip to Library Story Time we found an unfamiliar face leading the rambunctious group of preschool-ish toddlers. Her hello song was more solemn and her picture books too modern. Now, this isn't a story complaining about the new librarian. As I observed her I couldn't hep but notice several of the regulars felt more comfortable in her presence, and my children were handling the change just fine.

She taught us sign language, which I loved. Instead of moving our bodies frequently, we only stood once and moved only upon specific instructions. Watching my children under more rigorous structure was interesting, and I was glad they could keep to the task, the task of sitting still and quietly much longer than usual.

Then it was craft time.

In the back of the room there were two tables with about eight spots each. Each spot had all the supplies needed to make the adorable lions pictured above. Once set loose, my two mobile children ran to the back of the room. They each picked a spot on separate tables, and I had to wrangle the two-year-old next to the four-year-old because the Librarian's only words when she set us loose were "parents will need to help their children with the glue."

She'd obviously never crafted with my kids. Because they do not need help with their glue. And sure enough, before any instructions were given Reid had already begun gluing his Lion's mane -- which was a mistake because the first step of this art project was to tape the ears to the back of lion's head. A step I quickly completed for him.

Why did I do that? I don't know, because I have crafted with my kids and I should know better. I have a pretty strict "hands off" approach to our craft time. But this craft had a set of instructions to follow, it had order, and I just really wanted to help my kids follow that order.

Nell was as clueless about the ears as Reid. She took her paper plate and immediately introduced it to her best friend, the marker. That girl loves markers, and not a day goes by that I'm not scrubbing some color off her elbows.

After I frantically taped the ears on both lions I began helping Nell glue her eyes and nose on, which was the proper step number two. I didn't have the time or attention (I was holding Coraline in one arm through out this entire ordeal, minor detail) to notice Reid had glued his eyes all by himself. He used waaaay too much glue and was about to put the nose on upside down, but he was so proud of his independence. And yet, I interrupted him to have a conversation about whether our noses are under or above our eyes -- something I really thought he shouldn't have to stop and think about. Confused, he glued his nose under the lion's eyes.

Next, it was time to draw the faces. Reid hadn't really left any room for a smile or whiskers, so I just secretly hoped he wouldn't notice the instruction given -- he hadn't noticed the first two (it was total chance he glued the eyes on at the same moment everyone else did). I knew he'd been most eager to glue on the mane, so I let him loose on that task and turned to help Nell.

By the time I'd returned to Reid he proudly showed me the face he'd drawn on his lion -- a totally upside down face. I asked him what the raised brow was and he assured me it was the lion's smile. I tried to have the whole, ears, eyes, nose, smile order conversation again and he clearly became frustrated. It's like he had no idea what I was talking about. Then he looked at his Lion and realized the nose (that I had placed under the eyes) was in the wrong spot. He tried problem solving on his own but when he realized it had already dried up he totally lost it.

I mean really, really lost it. He scanned the room and noticed all the other lion's looked different than his, and he wasn't sure he could fix it.

I whispered in his ear to calm down, and the librarian came over to check on things. She offered him a new nose and I quickly ripped off the old one. His lion's face was finally all put together, but the ears were 100% in the wrong spot.



And now he had no desire to finish the mane -- the part of the art project he'd been so excited about had lost its appeal. His desire for independence was gone. And to make matters worse he had glue all over his fingers because the outer ring of his lion was covered in a thick line of the gooey stuff. To try and stop the mess I threw a handful of tissue paper pieces on the  glue and quickly collected him and Nell and left the room.

On our way out of the library I reminded myself not be frustrated by this failed story time experience. I reminded myself the new librarian was wonderful and had beautiful moments with the kids.

I threw my children in the car and we headed off to preschool registration. Yes, I registered my dear sweet Reid for preschool today the day I wrote this (more than two weeks ago).

Come September he'll load that little yellow school bus and head off into the great big world. I'm not scared to have him live life without me by his side. The tale of the upside down lion only shows he'd be better off without me.

You see at bedtime, when I'd nearly forgotten about the entire experience, I spotted that little lion on the dining room table and I realized something. Reid approached that table with complete confidence. He saw the paper plate, he saw the tissue paper and he knew exactly how to make his lion. Unfortunately for him, there was a set of specific instructions that needed to be followed. Only, needed isn't the right word. It would not have mattered if he'd done the mane first, eyes second, face third, nose fourth, and ears last. Sometimes instructions and proper orders only serve to confuse and frustrate kids.

And that is why I'm terrified to send him to preschool. I've been a teacher. I know that the kids who don't follow the instructions quickly become the behavior problems. But I also know they're often the smartest kid in the room. 

Deep Breathes

So, a lot has happened the last few days.

A lot.

In hindsight, I kind of regret that I haven't blogged every day this year. I needed the break. The relief. But, like always, there have been a few blog post ideas running through my mind and without the pressure to post everyday I never found the motivation to share my feelings.

And now, after the events of the past few days I can never capture those impressions with the innocent, authentic voice I wish I had presented. Sometimes, I just wish I could go back and re-experience previous thoughts. Simple thoughts. Even thoughts I tried to push out of my head, because I didn't realize God was the one forcing me to contemplate them. Sometimes big things have to happen before we realize the power of a simple little thought.


On Tuesday, I babysat for one of my friends. I've had a hard time making friends in Oshkosh. I have friends, that's not what I'm getting at. And this whole topic is likely a post for another day, but this friend is dear to me for several reasons.

I love her kids.

And Tuesday, when her two youngest were in my home I just had the simplest little impressions. Mainly, "Gees, I thought Reid was a loving big brother, but he's got nothing on Benny. That boy is a lover."

And as for the baby sister he loved so freely. I found it so ironic I could get her to sleep, coo, smile, and relax so much easier than my own little newborn. I'd still classify my babies as easy, but Elenora was just a little miracle of happiness and laid back ease I've never witnessed in someone so small.


I don't understand God. I just don't. I know He is my father, and I know He gives His children what we need, even at the cost of withholding what we want. I know Christ can succor those who suffer. And I know that is a heavy burden He so willingly took on.

I've never, never mixed this blog with finances. But if you feel inspired, any amount will help my dear friend and her three young children at this time. Aaron Orr Memorial Fund

Vaccination Research. Or, Why are People Intentionally Deceitful?

I've been doing a great deal of vaccination research these past few days. I have questions and I want answers. But the more I learn about vaccinations, the more I question human behavior. This debate really isn't about vaccinations at all. It's about the evil that lies in people's hearts. It's about dishonesty. It's about money.

People who are not experts in the field spend thousands of dollars to purposefully deceive parents who have suffered loss -- parents who are sincerely looking for answers. And innocent bystanders come across their "research" and make decisions regarding their child's safety based on someone's purposeful deceit.

But first, let's look at where I was almost a year ago. I was pro-vaccine. I was respecting other parent's choices to be anti-vaccine. I was having insightful conversations with mother's who need answers. I'm going to warn you right now, I'm no longer at that place. My time line for listening to opposing opinions has reached it's expiration point.

Some things haven't changed in that year. The title of that original post was "People Lie." In all my recent research I find that title more and more accurate. And it's heartbreaking, because drivers of the anti-vaccine movement are willfully deceiving people who need real answers. And in most cases they are doing this for monetary gain and temporary publicity. Those of us on the pro-vaccine side of this debate need to send our message loud and clear. Their time has expired, and we need real answers.

One of my vaccine related questions was simply "how many deaths are caused by vaccination?" I don't pretend to think vaccinations are 100% safe. I know there are risks. I know there are adverse reactions. I also know the statistics on that are 1 in several million (it varies for each vaccination, but at worst it is 1 in 1.5 million, at best it's 1 in 5 to 7 million). The death rate for the diseases we are vaccinating against are significantly higher, 1 per thousand, and even worse (and that's just death rate, it completely ignores life long complications caused by these diseases). Deciding between those two risks is easy for this non-mathematician, caring mother.

But I was sincere in my hunt for vaccine related deaths. I was sincere in my desire to know why people would choose not to vaccinate. And all I found was deceit, wrapped up nicely under the title "National Vaccination Information Center." Sounds like a legit source, right? That's what I thought, so I read an article titled "Infant Deaths and Vaccines" in it's entirety, and then I went to bed without any answers. Instead, I went to bed angry.

None of the claims on the site made any sense to me. And though I responded in kind, asking for clarification on just a few issues, I feared my comment would be screened and never published on the site. Here we are two days later, and I'm absolutely right. Oh how I wish I'd copied that response so I could post it here. I was nothing but sympathetic and polite. But I was also questioning, so my voice will not be heard. Not only is the site incredibly misleading, varying opinions are not allowed.

Which is terrifying, because it is quite possible thousands of others search "vaccine related deaths," click on that top link, and never take the time question the author's claims.

So what are the questionable claims? Well, her first false claim is that our infant mortality rate has gotten worse since 1960 -- the days of the author's childhood. In 1960 our country ranked 12th, globally, and now we've fallen to 30. So obviously things are worse, right? No. Absolutely not! You see, in 1960 26 infants per every 1,000 live birth died in the first four weeks of life. Where are we now? Only 6 infants per every 1,000 live birth die during that first month. Pretty amazing improvement right? The author totally ignores those numbers and only looks at our global standing.

So what about those global rankings?

Singapore, my beloved Singapore, has the lowest infant mortality rate in the world. Four infants per every 1,000 live births die during that first month. Japan, Sweeden, Iceland, and Finland constantly share the top five spots with Singapore. Basically every European nation and the Asian power houses do better than the US. Take a moment and think about what condition those countries were in during 1960 vs their situations now. I can tell you that Singapore was a malaria infested swamp land in 1960. It wasn't even an independent, sovereign state yet. So it's rise to #1 is not a reflection of our failings, rather it is a reflection of their existence and their success. And the latter could be said for virtually every other nation that bumped us down to 30th.

But why do these numbers even matter? Well, the author's claim is that our infant mortality rate is so high, globally, because we have the highest vaccination rate in the world. That sent red flags up immediately. I find it hard to believe we have double the vaccines Japan and Sweeden have (the author's claim). And I know for sure Singapore has a more rigorous vaccination schedule than we do (it wasn't America that made me get the Japanese Enchipalitis vaccine). Immediately after reading the article I looked up the vaccine schedule of several nations. Here's what I found, and it shouldn't surprise anyone: most developing nations follow the World Health Organizations recommended list and timeline for vaccinations.

Yup, the USA, Japan, Sweeden, and Singapore all use a similar schedule. So how can the author claim our doses are twice as high? It's simple. She uses deceit. Purposeful, manipulative, deceit aimed to prove a hypothesis that is absolutely false.

In Japan, several of the recommended WHO vaccines are voluntary (polio, Hep A and B, and rotavirus). In America, all of the recommended WHO vaccines are voluntary. She's comparing their mandatory to our recommended. And even when you compare our voluntary with their mandatory, there appears to be very little difference.

In Singapore, there are no religious or personal belief exemptions for vaccines. None. Singapore doesn't play that game (just ask the Jehovah Witnesses who were detained for failure to comply with mandatory military service*). If you fail to comply with the Infectious Disease Act -- which requires DTaP before 12 months of age and MMR between 12 months and 24 months -- then you are breaking the law. And since Singapore is such a fine city, your punishment for failure to comply is $500 for the first offense and $1,000 for each subsequent offence (and as far as I can tell, each dose is considered a singular offence -- in short, it's expensive to skip vaccines in Singapore).

So quick recap, Singapore has the lowest infant mortality rate in the world and quite possibly the strictest pro-vaccine laws.

If the author sincerely wanted to understand the rate at which vaccination affects infant mortality, she'd be more honest about which infant mortality rates she is using (is she looking at data from the first four weeks? first year? or the first four years, when vaccines are most routinely given?) and she'd use vaccination compliance data, not recommended scheduling programs. She uses neither.

For your curiosity, here is the best graph I could find that shows US improvement of infant mortality rates that span that first month and the first year of life.  It's hard to get exact numbers off this graph, but it looks like we had somewhere around 50 deaths per 1,000 live births during a child's first year of life in 1960. Now we have somewhere around 9. Can we all take a minute to celebrate that?


image via the Journal of Nutrition

After my celebration (and an angry night's sleep) I decided to dig a little deeper. What accounted for this big improvement? Surely, the arrival of vaccines had some effect on those numbers? And not a negative one, like the author's claim.

It's difficult to put an exact number behind the lives saved by vaccines, but it is safe to say vaccines have saved an average of 1,000 infant lives (per year) over the past 100 years. The biggest improvement seems to have been the disappearance of diarrhea (saving around 5,000 infants a year) as a cause of death. Combined improvement in nutrition (or lack of malnutrition) and prenatal care (saving nearly 4,000 infants a year) have also positively affected our infant mortality rate. So there are a few things that have proved more helpful than vaccines. But it is nearly impossible to argue that vaccinations aren't part of the top 5 reasons for drastic improvement over the last 100 years.

Just as I thought I was satisfied with my research, I decided to do one last bit of digging. One article I had skimmed for useful information (which it had plenty of) had only mentioned vaccines once. I found that kind of odd, so I checked it's source on vaccinations. I was then sent to an interesting article that could possibly support the claim that vaccines have a negative affect on infant mortality rates. This kind of frustrated me, as I thought I'd put that issue to rest. But since I'm willing to let my hypothesis be wrong, I kept reading. I noticed the article did not prove anything. It could not say vaccines cause deaths, nor could it conclude that vaccines affect global infant mortality rates. It simply wanted readers to look at the possibility that our high vaccine schedule might explain some SIDS deaths. Like the first article I read, it did not compare vaccine compliance to vaccine compliance. And that's when I knew something fishy was going on.

Sure enough I scrolled to the bottom of the page and there it was, the little asterisks letting me know this "scholarly research" had been funded by, take a guess, the "National Vaccine Information Center." I was fuming! This "center" was turning out to be just like that quack who wrote the original "vaccines cause autism" report. This "center" was paying research writers to publish articles that supported their thesis, their lawsuits.

Maybe that doesn't make other people's blood boil as much as it does mine. But I was livid. PEOPLE LIE! Why do people lie? Why are people so evil? Who was the author of that first article I found and what is her motive?

Well, her name is Barbara Loe Fisher. She lost a child the day of his DTap Vaccine back in 1980, two years before I was even born. I cannot imagine her loss. My heart aches for her. No mother should bury a child. I do not question her lifelong search for answers and I recognize her campaign has brought about some needed changes (you can thank her for the info sheet you get every time your child is vaccinated). But (you saw that coming) in her quest for answers she refutes any bit of data that doesn't fit nicely with her hypothesis. She believes that vaccine killed her son (and it might have), so her next natural conclusion is that vaccines kill thousands of children each year and have greatly damaged our infant mortality rate as a nation. Any data contrary to that hypothesis is completely ignored. She pays research writers to try and prove her point, and their questionable work is being sited all across the internet.

How does that help any parent find answers?

A couple final things of note. Fisher's lawyer probably loves her. She creates law suits out of everything. One time she filed a suit against a Doctor who called her a liar in a newspaper interview. So I should probably watch out, she could find this post and sue me. Of course, the courts wouldn't take up the case. You can't sue people for calling you a liar. Also, of course, the Dr was absolutely 100% right, and she was even caught in several lies during her build up of the case.

The whole thing, my quest to find answers, just leaves me heart broken. Some SIDS deaths may be vaccine related, but how does the anti-vaccine movement help us identify the infants who are potentially at risk? It doesn't.

Yesterday, as I walked laps at the YMCA, I tried to sympathize with Fisher. I tried to imagine how my reasoning might be skewed if I thought vaccines killed my child. But I just couldn't find a way to justify her thinking. Yes, the DTaP might have *triggered* her son's death, but thousands of children across the globe get that vaccine every day, every day, and none of them die. So it's impossible to conclude the vaccine killed her son and only natural to conclude he was predisposed to a negative reaction (thus, *triggered*).  Vaccine related injuries are real; I have a living friend who reacted to that same vaccine as an infant (she fully vaccinates her kids). So why aren't we looking for the real cause? Why aren't we realizing that the very kids who have reactions to these vaccines are likely the very kids who would die if the diseases were still thriving? Why isn't Fisher looking for real answers?

I suppose I just don't understand. Human behavior is fascinating to me, but I'll never wrap my head around it. Maybe I shouldn't label her a liar. My heart does ache for her loss. But how can anyone, in good conscience, purposefully mislead thousands of loving parents? Her deceit is intentional. She silences (and threatens to sue) all voices that oppose hers.

So far, every time I've tried to understand the dangers of vaccination, I've found an individual who is driven by money. It's been proven their arguments are built on lies. We deserve better. Their time has expired and voices of the pro-vaccine crowd need to speak up.


*The wording here was changed after initial publication, as it was pointed out to me that I wasn't fairly representing Jehovah Witnesses' beliefs.

More on Santa

So my Dad commented that he didn't quite know what I was talking about when I wrote on the topic of Santa and my support of him.

Basically, I've found three parental approaches to Santa. There are many staunch Christians who think Santa takes away from the spirit of Christ, so they cancel Christmas and/or never teach their kids about Santa to begin with. I've heard some of these parents argue that having Santa come into Christian homes is a sin -- breaking the "thou shalt not bear false witness" commandment. And of course, there are others in this first group who think Santa is a pagan abomination, which just isn't true (and might be the point that confused my dad earlier). There is another group of no-Santa parents who don't base their reasons in Christianity. I'm not exactly sure what all their reasons for not having Santa are, perhaps they just don't want to play along with the legend, or, and I've heard this several times, they want their kids to know who really gives them presents on Christmas morning. I'm sure there are other reasons, but this group seems smaller and less vocal than the first, so I'm just making educated guesses. The third group is where I (and the majority seem to) set up camp: people who play along with the legend of Santa.

But even within this last group there are all sorts of variations. I've had several facebook friends share a little "status" that encourages parents to only give their children one small gift from Santa. The argument makes sense: how do you explain the hundreds of dollars of toys your kid gets when their friend at school gets necessities like a winter coat and new shoes? But even with this totally valid argument placed in front of me, I just can't agree to go along with it. Which is why I really enjoyed this piece shared in the Huffington Post. I just love the magic of Christmas morning, and I want my kids to love it too. I don't think we are going over board by indulging them one day out of 365. My kids will each have three presents which total less than $100. I feel like that is reasonable.

Now, this post has kind of been all over the place and probably didn't clear up a thing, but I do have one more comment I'd like to share. I had a friend ask, via facebook, how she should handle her 5-year-old's questions about Santa and Chuanaka and one response was just brilliant. It was that Santa doesn't bring any gifts or do any thing parents don't approve of. So if families who celebrate Chuanaka don't want Santa to come, he won't come. If you ask for something outrageous, you won't get it. This is such a simple explanation, yet so brilliant. It even covers topics I mentioned earlier, like the Elf on the Shelf. It puts all the "blame" back on the parents. You didn't get the dog you asked for? That's because Dad doesn't want it. All your friends have an elf but you don't? That's because your mom didn't want it. Santa doesn't give your buddy presents? That's because his parents don't want him to. Simple, simple. 

Due Date and Depression

Here's the thing about suffering from clinically diagnosed depression -- when you start to feel down you waste so much time deciphering. Is this just the regular old blues I can swing out of? Or is this the real deal? Do I have control? Or am I about to loose control? Oh, how I hope there isn't a need for medical intervention. But if there is, I know the quicker I get it the better.

And so your whole morning is wasted, lying in bed trying to decide if you can kick out of this one or if you're in for a rough few weeks/months/years.

You watch Like a Broken Vessel on repeat.

And finally, you get out of bed and decide you can face the day. But you also decide it's probably the real deal. The idea of talking to anyone is horrid. And when your loving husband reminds you not to get too stressed you steam out of the room and lock yourself away again.

Your kids are the only smiles you want to see.

The roller coaster continues all day. Is this a normal mood swing? Or am I trapped in a downward spiral? Am I selfish for getting this worked up over a past due date? Or do I really just need to hate life for a minute, in order to feel better about it later on?

Everyone has regular ups and downs, but when you've battled the beast and lost those regular ups and downs can feel frightening. You never know where they might lead you. And talking to someone about it, even the person you love the most, leaves you feeling so vulnerable. And anxious.

Curse you anxiety. How do you always go hand in hand with depression? Like one isn't enough. 

Santa and Christmas Randoms

Alright, I've got to write about something other than this baby! It's just so much easier to write about the baby, so little thought is required when I just type complaints.

However, there are many other blog worthy topics that have been on my mind for months. Months!

So I'll pick the most relevant one, one about to expire (like my baby -- I couldn't help it): Santa and all things Christmas.

There seem to be a few general topics on blogs and facebook right now, and I'm just going to throw them all into one post.

1. How do you handle your kid's questions about common traditions your family doesn't follow? 
This question comes up in various ways, but mostly it is aimed at the beloved Elf on the Shelf. Here in Wisconsin I'll also have to tackle St Nick's Day. What's St Nick's Day you ask? I'm still not 100% sure, so do what I did and google it.

When it comes time for me to field questions like "why do X, Y, and Z have an elf at their house but I don't?"  and "why did Saint Nick come to A, B, and C's house but not mine?" I'm simply going to discuss the role and value of traditions, both secular and religious. We assume kids can't handle the idea that each family is different, but I assure you they can.

One of my personal favorite books in our family advent has been Jingle Bells by Iza Trapani. The basic gist of the book is that some children ride around the world on Christmas Eve, observing Christmas traditions in other countries. It's very obvious to children reading this book that "Christmas" doesn't look the same in every household. I remember learning of Christmas traditions in other countries when I was a kid and that never once made me suspicious of my own traditions.

Like most parenting conundrums, there's a Daniel Tiger song that wraps up this topic well. "In some ways we are different, and in so many ways we are the same." I totally plan on singing that to my children when Mr Elf and St Nick come up.

2. Why don't Christmas concerts have music about Christ?
The war on Christmas drives me nuts! It isn't real people. It. is. not. a. thing. And, if it is a thing, it is an in house thing. Do you want to know why? Because Jews don't celebrate Santa. At all. Neither do Muslims. No one does, except Christians -- or agnostic/atheist individuals with Christian heritage/backgrounds. So if you are upset that Santa has a stronger presence than Christ you have no one to blame but your own.

Also, as a wise friend once told me, Jewish kids only get presents for Chunaka to try and make them feel less bad about not having Christmas and Santa. To most the world's Jews, Chunaka isn't even a top five holy day. Christmas consumerism has made it a big deal in America. And Kwanza? Totally made up to counteract Christmas. Neither the creation of Kwanza nor the empowerment of Chunaka have ever tried to take away from the spirit of Christmas. They enhance it. The only people trying to declare a war on Christmas are the people who are fighting over who deserves more lime light -- Santa or Christ, and those two things both have to do with Christmas. So lets identify this war accurately, it is a civil war -- not an outside attack.

3. Does Santa take away from the religious purpose of Christmas?
Considering everything said in #2, I am totally a fan of Santa. Yes, to many he has destroyed the Spirit of Christmas. Many Christians loathe him. I get it. But the bottom line is, he is still a Christian ideal. No, he isn't rooted solely in pagan traditions. If he were a cookie, his primary ingredient would be Godly Saint. Other important ingredients would include various spin offs of Saint Nicholas -- like Father Christmas and Sinterklass. The tiniest ingredient would be Odin, a major God in German mythology. I'm not sure why people think Santa is based on the pagan God, Odin, when all his various names come from Christian nations, times, and beliefs. I repeat my thesis from #2, Santa is Christian. So in this house, Santa gets two big thumbs up.

Picture from this morning's library story hour.

Halloween Candy Buyout

Okay, this is my last Halloween post, promise. I've been trying to get Reid to move on for days, so I should too. But I've been struck by just how many parents buy their kid's Halloween candy off of them.

I think the movement started with Dentists, who buy candy to save teeth and then give the candy to troops over seas. Hats off to you Dentists! Your purpose is clear: less cavities, and your mission is philanthropic: giving to men and women whom we can never repay. I give the idea a thumbs up, two thumbs up if they have the kids package the candy themselves.

The movement of parents buying candy off their kids, well I was on the fence for a while. I didn't really know what to make of it. One parent (who I do not know personally) wrote about how her husband turned the whole thing into a big lesson on money management and capitalism and how her children spent two hours -- two hours! -- bargaining piece by piece with their dad. I'm a big supporter of money sense in youth, so it seemed clever enough.

But the more I've sat on the whole idea of parents buying candy off their kids the more I've realized this isn't a lesson in capitalism, it is a lesson in welfare. I give it two big thumbs down.

I'm usually one to support any parental philosophy or style. I have my opinions about things, but I reserve judgement because I know opinions vary. However, I'm here to confess I'm having a hard time reserving judgement on the issue of Halloween candy buy back. I think the biggest reason it is hard for me to reserve judgment is because many of the very people who I keep reading about buying their candy off their kids are die hard conservatives who despise government handouts. So I have to wonder, do these parents not realize the very valuable community handout lesson they are teaching their children come Halloween night?

I'm not going to go all Matt Walsh on you here and talk about how destructive this practice is, I'll still maintain my "to each his own" attitude. But I do think mindful parenting is important, and I think the parents who are buying candy off their kids probably just haven't taken the time to be really mindful about the whole process. I encourage all of us to think about what we are teaching our kids when we pay them for something they were given for free.

The lesson taught to these kids is clear. Go door to door as fast as you can and get as much candy as you can for simply saying "trick or treat," and then return home and make as much money as you can off your "hard work" (those are air quotes, please insert eye roll). Ask yourself, are they really making money off their hard work, or are they making money off their neighbor's kindness and generosity? Making money off hard work would require raking a neighbor's leaves, not trick or treating. 

Take for example the candy that was stolen off our porch, or Ben's secretary's porch, or our neighbor's porch. Now, I wouldn't put candy on my porch if I didn't know this was a possibility. There wasn't much and I wasn't bothered by the act. Until ... I thought of that child going home and making $5 off his/her mom and dad for all that candy he/she stole. This scenario actually makes more sense to me. I think most kids know a whole bowl of candy will make them sick, so why take it all? But if a whole bowl of candy makes them $5, then take it all!

I'm not trying to discourage limiting our children's Halloween candy, but there are so many other options that teach kids more valuable lessons. Make a cookie bar with your various loot as the add ins and deliver it to your local Church group or assisted living center. Package a few pieces with some toiletry items and pass them out to homeless people in your city. Package them with a few cans of soup and deliver them to your local shelter or food bank. Sale them to your dentist and know that they'll brighten some soldiers day. Learn self control and only eat one a day. You could even make a fun little Christmas countdown advent out of them. The options for using up all that candy wisely are endless.

Simply encouraging your children to run door to door asking for a free handout so that they can earn a little money from you is not one of the wise options. It's teaching your kids to make a profit off something they were given for free. If you still want to argue it's a valuable lesson in capitalism we can agree, but recognize the flip side and know that it is also a valuable lesson in welfare. 

This Week's Runner Ups

Here's seven things that happened this week and/or were on my mind but didn't get mentioned in previous blog posts.

1. Meet the Mormons. Tuesday night Ben and I had a wonderful date. Why Tuesday? Well, we're cheap and Tuesday night is $5 night at our local movie cinema chain. Meet the Mormons didn't actually come to our city, but it did come to one just 25 miles north. Which also happens to be the same city that has the nearest Indian Restaurant. So we made a night of it, heading out right at 5:00 when Ben gets home from work. The food was great. The movie was uplifting. And the date night was needed.

As we pulled up to the theatre Ben noticed a long line at the entrance, so he dropped me off to go buy our tickets. "I doubt the line is for Meet the Mormons, but I'll drop you off anyway," he said. But the moment I swung those double doors open I immediately knew, "These are all Mormons." And they were. Youth groups from three nearby congregations were meeting in the foyer to go attend the movie together.

It's hard to pick a favorite individual highlighted in the 70 minute long documentary, but I went in with a bias toward the Candy Bomber and the Humanitarian. I'm a sucker for "changing the world" stories. However, I wasn't expecting to be so moved by the teen-mom story. And her's reminded me just how much each of us can change the world. We don't need a huge moment (WWII) or a fancy degree (Engineer) to make a vast impact in someone's life. Her experience deeply touched my heart.

I definitely recommend watching the movie once it is out on Netflix, or checking it out at your local theatre. It was such a hit at ours that they are actually keeping it another week and adding it to Green Bay.

2. Ebola. I haven't been following the Ebola thing too closely, but I have gathered some points I think a lot of people are missing. 1) You can't get the virus unless you come in contact with an affected person who is showing symptoms. 2) We can't expect the government to protect us from outbreaks like this (I could go on and on here, but I won't). 3) Individual accountability is what will stop the spread of Ebola in the US. Several Doctors and Journalists came back to the US after being in parts of West Africa that are affected. Those people quarantined themselves for 21 days when arriving home. We all owe them a HUGE THANK YOU. Personal responsibility people, it saves lives. Not the government. 4) Several hospitals in the US have treated Ebola patients in recent months without having a single staff member catch the disease. Obviously Dallas did something wrong.

3. Journalism. I've come to the realization that I'm a Journalism nerd. I've always loved News. My first write up in the local paper was at the young age of 10. I was the editor of my High School paper for two years (and we won lots of state awards). I love, love, love the News. I credit my father's dedication to daily reading the Salt Lake Tribune. We knew we weren't suppose to touch it until he'd looked through every page (okay, we could usually get away with stealing the Sports section, but that's it). I think a lot of people mistake my love of News and Journalistic Integrity with love of politics. I do enjoy politics. But honestly, if it weren't for my love of News I probably wouldn't even know half of what I do about politics. This isn't a chicken and egg thing. My love for News is older, deeper, and grander than my love of politics.

4.  4-year-olds. This week marks the beginning of a new phase in parenting. I am officially "the worst mommy ever!" and "the meanest mommy ever!" I must admit that the meanest mommy ever comment made me feel like I was doing something right.

5. Fred Rogers. I love Daniel Tiger's Neighborhood. Words can't describe how wonderful the series is. Fred Rogers was an amazing human being and it shows by the legacy he left behind, a legacy that is still in motion today. Emotional intelligence is so crucial for developing minds and the impact he has had on millions of children is profound. Even now, as a parent, his lessons on feelings help me almost everyday. Nell is obsessed with the show. She loves all the characters and sings all the songs. It's a great reminder that there is so much good in the world.

6. 31+ weeks pregnant. I was super exhausted today. At nap time I told Reid I was going to sleep with Nell and he'd be on his own. He didn't love that idea, and I figured it wouldn't actually work. "Mommy, we have to have our special preschool time!" he pleaded. I conceded. But I knew I couldn't sit at the kitchen table and supervise a craft without falling asleep on the spot. So our preschool took to the outdoors.

First we put some fencing around our fruit trees so the rabbits won't nibble at them during the frosty evenings. Then we dug all the row markers out of the garden. By this point I'd found all my missing energy and Reid and I both entered the garden, shovels in hand, prepared to work. We dug trenches and buried weeds. I dug up all the plants and he ate the last tomato. We found a few random potatoes and ooohed and aaahed at various different worms. Reid was in heaven and he was truly helpful. He found great pride in his own little trenches and even stole a few of my dug up weeds so he could turn them upside down and bury them. It was probably my favorite hour of preschool we've had all Autumn.

Once he started talking about how tired his belly was, we headed to the front porch. There we each found a strong stick and began picking the mud off our shoes. He did not want any help and insisted he could get it all off by himself.

Inside we enjoyed some hot chocolate, and just as we finished the last drop Nell woke up. At this point I was finally geared up for the craft/learning activity I'd prepared for the day. So I gave Nell some crayons and a coloring book and Reid and I went to work making this 3D pumpkin, which shows all the life cycles of a pumpkin. He thought that was pretty neat.



7. Mom's Night Out. This evening I enjoyed a Mom's night out with a few friends. We just met at someone's house and played games and ate yummies. We kind of joked that trying to meet other mom's feels like dating. But we all acknowledged the importance/need to connect with women who have children similar ages of our own. It's just nice to get together childless every now and then and realize we are all going through the same stages and struggles. Together we can laugh about all the ridiculous things our kids do. It was a great night and I stayed up way past my bedtime.

So I better head off to bed (it's now Saturday) so I don't make the same mistake today!

The Words of Isaiah

I've always loved the words of Isaiah. My reading comprehension wasn't great as a kid (or teen), but that didn't inhibit my love of reading. However, the nature of scriptural language combined with my low comprehension always left me in a struggle. The only verses of scripture I ever felt I understood were the words of Isaiah.

Truly ironic, huh? I suppose imagery and metaphor are my strength (as a reader, definitely not as a writer).

Today in Sunday School we studied several chapters of Isaiah, and I was once again engrossed by his powerful imagery. What a wonderfully skilled writer Isaiah was. The scriptures are uplifted by his words -- his wonderful praises to the Lord.

The verse which struck me the most was Isaiah 25:8. The phrase "the rebuke of his people shall he take away from off all the earth" really stood out to me. I wanted to shout it at all the Christian pundits (and their followers) who act as though they are victims. Where is their faith that as a follower of Christ they will always come out victorious? With God and His Son on our side there is no need to fear. Faith shuts out fear, and true faith will make any rebuke feel minimal.

This is why I'm so turned off by the new Christian movement to act as though we are victims. I've written in the past about my distaste for playing the victim. More specifically that post is about my preparedness as a Christian to live in a day when my beliefs and lifestyle are rebuked. I am 100% signed up and willing to live with the reproach of the world.

Because I know Isaiah's prophecies are true.

Prophecies tell us Christians will be ridiculed and mocked. Prophecies tell us the world will be rampant with sin. We cannot act blindsided or victimized by these two current happenings. The scriptures are there to prepare us for them. We knew they were coming. But more importantly, we know that rebuke (and the sin) will be taken off all the Earth.

Christians need to see life as the eternal realm that it is. Suffering criticism while on the Earth is nothing to complain about because this Earth life is but a short time. The time will come when that criticism is turned away and all suffering will be rewarded.

I am neither frightened nor wounded by the reproach of the world. My faith outshines fear. My faith heals scars. My faith is in Christ. 

Birthday Parties

Last Friday a friend asked me if I'd thought of any ideas for Nell's birthday. I burst into laughter.

I'm horrible at birthdays. Really, I am. Neither of my kids have ever had anything that resembled a party and I rarely do anything nice for anyone on their birthday. I accept it as a weakness. Birthdays just aren't my thing. I'd even discussed this all earlier last week with two other friends.

Yet ...

Ever since then I have been scouring pinterest for ideas. And I'm actually really excited about my kids birthdays now. In fact, I can't stop thinking about them.

But I am a kid party virgin. I've been to a couple of parties, one for Reid's friend Oliver (his 4th) and his friend Parker (his 3rd) and one for Parker's little sister (turned one just weeks before Nell did) and my nephew Isaac's first and my niece Allie's second. That's it. Oh wait, I went to Jaedon's first and fourth and Livy's first, but that was years ago -- long before I had my own kids.

Well that was a random list to come up with in the middle of a blog, but I think back to all these parties to try and figure out if there are certain rules to kids parties. Of all those first and second birthdays all but two were just for family. The two that had friends only invited a couple close family friends. So that makes me wonder, do I just do a family party for Nell? Do I invite her friends? Do I invite my friends (the ones with little kids anyway)? This is why I don't do parties. I'm the kind of person who wants to invite everyone. I don't want anyone to feel left out. I still remember the stress of coming up with my list of 10 friends in fourth grade. I talked my mom into 11, because I knew one girl wouldn't be able to come. And even then I still have this clear image of the hurt in another friend's eyes when she realized she wasn't invited. Invites are such a pain, I just avoid them all together by not having parties.

Gifts are the other pain. Can I tell everyone to bring art supplies to donate to a charity in lieu of gifts? Is that acceptable? I love giving gifts, and I generally love receiving them ... but parties make me feel like I am asking for them. And that has always made me uncomfortable. On the flip side of that, I don't feel like people are asking me for gifts when I get invited to parties. Yes, gifts are an obvious part of attending any party (weddings, showers or birthdays) but I'm not offended by the idea that I should bring one. So why do I despise having others bring them? I really don't know the answer to that question. But it is one of my big kid birthday party hang ups (the other being who to invite).

All this rambling probably makes me sound like I'm way over thinking this. But didn't I already admit that I am? I really cannot stop thinking about these birthday parties!

So stay tuned and find out how things go. Even if it is just the four of us, Nell is going to have a fun art themed Birthday and Reid is going to rock the pirate the world with four his favorite mateys. I can't wait! What is happening to me?