Mr. Sand Man

I read somewhere that around 40 pounds of dirt per year is tracked into your house. I think my son, alone, fills that quota each month just from what dumps out of his shoes some days. And that's just one shoe!  
Clearly he is having a good time during recess. 
And clearly I need to legislate a no-shoes-in-the-house law.

  

Majority Rules at the Dinner Table

A few weeks ago, I was in an unusual mood. I was actually excited to make dinner! A new chicken recipe was the cause for my enthusiasm. As I grocery shopped, I remembered I had a bag of potatoes at home and decided homemade mashed potatoes would make a nice accompaniment. Homemade mashed potatoes on a weekday? Crazy! Some fresh cherries would complete the ensemble. Dinner was on the table by 5:15, much earlier than our average 6:30 dinnertime. I was pleased with myself and my meal. I was feeling like a regular Paula Deen.
It didn't take long for reality to pop my swelling pride. While my husband complimented me on how great everything was, my children obviously felt differently. My son didn't touch his plate. My daughter was busy pushing  pieces of chicken into her mashed potatoes. I looked at my husband with irritation. "This is great!" he exclaimed in an effort to distance himself from the behavior of our offspring. (In the past, he has been innocently grouped with my children during my rants of "Nobody likes anything I cook/ It is so unrewarding to cook for you people!"). He has has learned that constant compliments and eye contact are the key to imprinting his innocence in my mind, and therefore his survival. Despite my obvious strike out with the kids, I patted myself on the back for my efforts.
By the end of dinner, my son had eaten enough dinner to qualify for dessert. My daughter had given me her fork and was attempting to shove her dinner in her highchair seat. I looked at my husband. In a dejected tone he reassured me, "I really liked it. I wish that you would make it again." But he already new the truth. "Thank you," I said, acknowledging his appreciation, "But, I'm sorry. It'll probably be a while until I make this." A person can handle only so much rejection. It's majority rule at our dinner table.

Mrs. Hughes

Recently, a friend shared the first two seasons of  "Downton Abbey" with me (yes, I was late jumping on the bandwagon, but I usually am). For two weeks, my life was consumed with the series as I played each episode any chance I could get. I was basically MIA.
I found myself fantasizing about what it must be like to have a whole staff of people taking care of the chores. I wondered what it must be like to leave a room and return finding the pillows plumped, the floors cleared, and everything in its place- as if by magic. Perhaps, I even became a little bit resentful as I considered such a life of ease...
So, to help tame the green monster, I decided to name my washing machine "Mrs. Hughes". When I consider that 150 years ago, I would also be the one scrubbing my laundry clean, my appreciation for the maid I keep in the garage increases. I just pile clothes in and say, "Mrs. Hughes, my knickers are in need of cleaning. Please wash them delicately so as not to distress the fabric." And then I walk inside and nibble a little bit of chocolate on my couch until it is time for me to get dressed.... which I have to do by myself, but I get by. Upon returning to the family room I find the pillows on my couch piled into a fort and toys strewn across the floor. The children are hungry and Mrs. Patmore is nowhere to be found. I guess I'll have to make the sandwiches again. Mrs. Hughes is done washing, but failed to rinse the soap completely from the clothes. They stink. This is not the first time this has happened. She will just need to rinse them again and remember that a tablespoon is really all that is needed to get the water mildly sudsy. And for pete's sake, how long does it take to dry a blasted load of laundry? I don't have all day. Lord Grantham's trousers need to be mended, but have sat untouched for weeks. And what on earth is my toothbrush doing on the floor?
It really is hard to find good help.

Recent Rants

I don't feel like my blog has been very topical lately, so here are two of my recent rants concerning women and our country ("topical" is being used loosely, as both subjects are fairly old news):

First, and most recently, is a comment made by Democratic strategist Hilary Rosen about Ann Romney in which she questions Romney's input on economics by stating, "she never worked a day in her life."
My Rant: My complaint has nothing to do with the working mom v. stay-at-home mom argument. My complaint is about the insinuation that stay-at-home moms are not intelligent and have no valuable insight on the economy. If you are living on one paycheck, and working to stretch your husband's paycheck for bills, grocery shopping, clothes shopping, etc. then you know firsthand how healthy (or unhealthy) the economy is. It doesn't take employment to understand that. Does a woman that works at McDonald's have more credible input on the economy than a homemaker, by virtue of being employed? To me, this just shows a true condescension that exists in viewing women who choose to be stay-at-home moms as uninformed and unintelligent with nothing valuable to offer.
It brings to mind the comment made by Hillary Clinton in March 1992, "You know, I suppose I could have stayed home and baked cookies and had teas, but what I decided to do was to fulfill my profession..."

The second, is inspired by my loose following of the Sandra Fluke controversy several weeks ago. Fluke is a Georgetown University law school student (a Catholic institution) who testified before House Democrats in support of an insurance mandate that covered birth control. She argued that even institutions with moral objections to contraception should be required to give coverage, stating that the cost of contraception can be an economic hardship on students.
My Rant: First, Biology:101: Sex is a choice that has a consequence- the possible result of pregnancy. When women start demanding that the government has a responsibility to help them avoid this risk, they are shifting the focus from the accountability of their choices to demanding that they be provided the means to maintain a certain lifestyle. It's as if they are victims of their reproductive powers and somehow the government owes them prevention, simply because they have female parts. If you can't afford cable, then you don't buy cable. If you can't afford The Pill- and you don't want to become pregnant- perhaps you shouldn't be sexually active (or use cheaper contraception methods). Nor should institutions that morally oppose contraception be forced to provide it.
I am aware of certain health conditions in women (unrelated to family planning) that require the treatment of birth control. This is not the issue at hand, although it has been pulled into the argument. The center of this argument is contraception- intentional prevention of contraception and pregnancy.

If All The World Were Blind

"The real comforts [necessities] of life cost but a small portion of what most of us can earn. Dr. Franklin says 'It is the eyes of others and not our own eyes which ruin us. If all the world were blind except myself I should not care for fine clothes or furniture.' It is the fear of what Mrs. Grundy may say that keeps the noses of many worthy families to the grindstone. In America many persons like to repeat 'we are all free and equal,' but it is a great mistake in more senses than one.
"That we are born 'free and equal' is a glorious truth in one sense, yet we are not all born equally rich, and we never shall be. ...
"...[Y]ou will not get ahead in the world, if your vanity and envy thus take the lead. In this country, where we believe the majority ought to rule, we ignore that principle in regard to fashion, and let a handful of people, calling themselves the aristocracy, run up a false standard of perfection, and in endeavoring to rise to that standard, we constantly keep ourselves poor; all the time digging away for the sake of outside appearances. How much wiser to be a 'law unto ourselves' and say, 'we will regulate our out-go by our income, and lay up something for a rainy day.' People ought to be as sensible on the subject of money-getting as on any other subject. Like causes produces like effects. You cannot accumulate a fortune by taking the road that leads to poverty. It needs no prophet to tell us that those who live fully up to their means, without any thought of a reverse in this life, can never attain a pecuniary independence."

-P.T. Barnum, 1810-1891

Sharpie Magic

Last week, my son took a Sharpie to a white undershirt in order to make it a "real" football jersey. He had my complete permission, so when I realized that that the marker had bled through onto my wood dining table, I could only be mad at myself. I quickly did an online search and tried the first tip I found to clean Sharpie ink from wood. The solution seemed so ridiculous, I wouldn't have tried it had I not been desperate.
I am here to testify that ordinary toothpaste rubbed onto the marker stain with a damp cloth does indeed magically erase the marks from your dining room table. It was so miraculous, I had to pass it on.

Even so, I have relearned the need to respect the power of the Sharpie.

A Stocking Story

The first Christmas that my husband and I were married, I decided to sew our stockings. This would be my first sewing project flying solo without the aid of my mom (i.e. hovering over her shoulder while she sewed for me). I bought my fabric, cut out my pattern, and started. It was a beast! I constantly ran into problems, my techniques were amateurish, and my fabric was way too thick to easily fit under the sewing foot- we're talking about 6-8 layers of velvet and batting here, folks (a combination of ignorance and insanity). Due to blood pressure concerns, I abandoned the project.
Two Christmases later, and with a little more experience under my belt, I finished one of the stockings (the other was honorably discharged) and sewed two more with thinner/easier fabric. Mistakes were made along the way, but they were completed in a week or two.
This year, I had need for a new stocking. I am proud to say that this stocking was completed in two nights (and with 4 days to spare till Christmas Eve)! I am quite proud of myself. While others could probably have completed it in a few hours, I have obviously set a new personal best. It is truly a Christmas miracle.

(Obviously, I got a little carried away with my son's stocking- the one exploding with Christmas joy- but he loves it still the same. I plan on redoing that one and my original Deluxe stocking sometime in the future.)

Happy Thanksgiving!

Hope you have a great Thanksgiving weekend!

My first pecan pie ever. I'm so proud, I don't know if I'll let anyone cut into it!

A Lot to Learn

This conversation took place after I unpacked our bags and straightened up after returning from a recent trip to Legoland...

My Husband: "Honey, the house looks great."
Me: "Really? Thanks!"
My Son: "I don't see anything different."

We'd better work on that, for the sake of our future daughter-in-law!

The Man Cold

It's getting to be that time of year... cold/flu season. Here's a little clip* to have a little laugh about it- and specifically the dreaded "Man Cold"!!

* Just so you are warned, peruse the other clips at this site at your own risk. Some are pretty crude.

Ponderings During the World Series

It took me about 23 years of life on this earth to buy a pair of white pants. Until then- while I was often tempted to buy them- I could hear them taunting me from their clothing racks, "Buy me, I dare you. I can't wait for you to stain me within the first 10 minutes of wearing me! What will it be first? Spaghetti sauce? Ink? Dirt? Bwahahaha!"
Contrast that with...
Major League baseball teams, who have chosen white as their pant color of choice for playing a game that involves diving around in grass and clay.

Obviously, they don't clean their own uniforms.

The Power of Music

A little boy named Diego was introduced into my son's class at school a few weeks after the first day of school. Diego speaks little English, and causes frequent disturbances in class. While he never personally bothered my son, my son still found Diego's outbursts unnerving. I tried to help him understand how Diego might be feeling, but Diego remained a frequent complaint in our home.
While driving in our car, I had some children's music playing in the CD player. A song came on whose lyrics included the line, "If you don't talk as most people do, some people talk and laugh at you, but I won't! I won't! I'll walk with you. I'll talk with you. That's how I'll show my love for you." After the song was over, the following conversation took place:

My Son: "That song gave me an idea."
Me: "What?"
My Son: "I'm thinking that I could be a better friend to Diego."
Us: "Why?"
My Son: "Because he doesn't talk like me."

He then went on to ask my husband to teach him a few Spanish phrases that might help him talk to Diego. Since that night, my son has become somewhat of a defender for Diego. In the length of this short song, my son had gained a new compassion for Diego that I, alone, had not been able to help him realize.
My son has always been very tuned into conversations and lyrics- even when you think he isn't. This sweet conversation again reminded me of how important it is to be careful of what messages are being sent to our children through the music we play. Music really can shape children's thoughts and attitudes. What are we teaching our children, when we aren't teaching them?

Salt in the Wound

A little bit ago, after a bitter inner struggle, I caved in and authorized the use of food storage boxes as nightstands in our bedroom and my son's bedroom. Sad, I know. As someone who appreciates great design, this was (and still is) kind of buggy.
I came to this point, because a.) we do not have any more room under beds, b.) I refuse to store our food in the garage, and c.) we do not own nightstands. I do not like them, but they serve a purpose.

And I figured I could lower my standards just a little. Maybe I'm being just a little ridiculous afterall. It's not like the rest of our house is anything great. No one will ever see them. It's better than nothing. I'd rather have food if I'm starving. Etc., etc., etc.

After all that inner turmoil to arrive at this point, you can imagine the distress the following conversation with my son caused, while organizing his room:

Me: "Get me your books off your nightstand."

My Son: "Nightstand? What nightstand?"

Me: "The nightstand next to your bed."

My Son: "Where?"

Me: "The boxes next to your bed."

My Son: "Those aren't a nightstand. Those are boxes. I call them dummy boxes."

Me: [to myself] "So do I...."

Nothing like a child's perspective to bash any delusion that I might have in fooling somebody into thinking that a stack of boxes are furniture. Talk about selective imagination. [sigh...]

Bachelor for a Night

The other night, my husband had to work so I had a self-proclaimed night off. With no husband to impress, we had pancakes and scrambled eggs for dinner (not that that's ever stopped me before). The garbage can was full, so empty food boxes took up residence on my counter. The dishes? I didn't touch the clean dishes in our dishwasher, and the dirty dishes stacked up in our sink. After my baby's bath, I didn't bother to drain or put her tub away. After I got the kids in bed, I indulged in a little T.V. while I worked on a sewing project.

And then I cleaned it all up before I went to bed...

Dead Man's Gulch

I'm a survivor.
Because I grew up in a land devoid of freezing precipitation, I decided to take a ski class in college. It equipped me with the skills necessary to get on/off the ski lift and down the mountain in one piece. I enjoy skiing a lot, when it is done on my terms: I do not purposefully attempt to create distance between my skis and the ground, I do not purposefully race at breakneck speeds, I do not purposefully run courses that are more challenging than a blue. Last week, I skied the equivalent of 3 black diamond courses. And I didn't even need snow.
I knew going into the latter half of the week it was going to be hard, but I had no idea. Here is just a taste of what the last 5 days of my life entailed (in addition to my usual duties):

• A husband with church meetings 2 nights, and overnight call the next 3 nights
• One 24 hour period without seeing Husband at all (see above) 
• 2 unplanned doctor's appointments for baby, and a diagnosis of bronchiolitis. She's fine, but that required...
• ...a trip to the pharmacy and 3 daily nebulizer treatments added to the routine 
• Soccer practice and a game for my big boy
• Baby waking multiple times each night coughing or crying

My intent here is not to complain (okay, maybe a little), because I know that every woman has weeks like this, or worse. In the middle of my "solo" day, I began to think ahead to what still laid ahead with dread. And then, I remembered my ski class.
In my first few classes, I realized that if I paid too much attention to what the course held in store for me (groomed trail and/or what kind of injury or death awaited me if I lost control), I would become unnerved and my muscles and heart would tighten with fright. I learned very quickly that if I focused on what I needed to do now and only a few moves ahead, I could stay in control. When I got to the bottom, I would be amazed that I was able to accomplish something that initially seemed so impossible from the top.
This kind of focus is what got me through my rough spots last week. As life felt more and more like a cruel treadmill with no stop button or means of escape, if I focused on what I needed to do now- and not on the misery that still awaited me- I was able to handle things with a better sense of control.
So there you go. I don't know how this reconciles with keeping an eternal perspective, but it got me through the last 5 days alive. And the fact that I'm alive is remarkable.

My "Soap" Opera

In 2006, our apartment lost power for four days- twice. Once, during extremely hot weather, and once during extremely cold weather. Minutes after we lost power, my impulse was to clean. The desire to vacuum, do laundry, and clean has never been stronger. Of course, I was frustrated to find that most of the cleaning I wanted to do required electricity. After the second power outage, when the weather woman forecasted a strong front coming our way... I vacuumed and did laundry to prepare. (No, I don't know how that helps in an emergency).

When I had my baby girl, and I was on a rigid feeding schedule that allowed little sleep, my desire to vacuum, do laundry, and clean has never been stronger. Of course, I tried to rest like I knew I should, when I had the time, but the tumult drove me crazy. I looked forward to having the free time to keep the house in order.

Currently, I am not subject to any natural disasters, my baby sleeps through the night and takes two good naps during the day. My desire to clean seems to be MIA. What's the deal?!

It seems I want to clean the most when it is least obtainable. Will Circumstance and Wanting-To-Clean ever be united in sparkly bliss?
To be continued...

The Amish Adoption Program

A couple of months ago, I was the recipient of a starter for Amish Friendship Bread. For those who don't know what this is, in the cooking world a bread starter is the equivalent of a chain letter. A "friend" gives you a small amount of dough kept in a Ziploc bag that you tend for 10 days. This involves "mushing" it every day, letting excess air out, and adding ingredients when instructed. Just as you have gotten it to sleep through the night, it is time to make the bread. You are then left with four starts of your own (intended to pass onto four of your own unsuspecting friends). You could repeat this cycle the rest of your life if you keep a starter for yourself. If you don't participate, you will be cursed.

When my mom offered me this starter, I declined. Tending bread dough did not seem like something I could manage along with a new baby. When my husband sampled some of the bread, he eagerly accepted a starter, promising he would feed it, walk it, and bake it on the designated day. I don't have to tell you who ended up caring for and baking the bread.

The bread was quite tasty, and I actually repeated the cycle several times. Here are the take-away lessons I learned from my time tending the little starts: 1.) The only thing Amish about this bread, is that you have to mix it by hand with a wooden spoon, as you are instructed quite clearly, that under no circumstances shall this dough be mixed in a metal bowl or with a metal spoon. (Otherwise, it will explode).  I highly doubt the Amish use instant pudding mix or Ziploc bags, as called for in the recipe. 2.) Usually food left on the counter for 10 days spoils to the point of being poisonous to ingest. This is not true for the Amish. It must be how you preserve food if you can't use a refrigerator. 3.)  Baker be warned: Amish Friendship bread does not increase your popularity, as the name suggests. In fact, it does quite the opposite. When most friends find out you have a start, they want nothing to do with you. They might even skip town to avoid the commitment that a starter demands. Why? Because, for some strange reason, starters can not be thrown away without producing large amounts of guilt in the recipient. The minute it makes a home on your counter and looks up lovingly into your eyes, you feel committed to it. You must do everything- including starting a college fund- to allow it to achieve its fullest potential. When you run out of friends to burden, you might even consider dropping starts on neighbor's doors in the dead of the night...
I am now starter free, and my counter has never felt emptier. But, I know up in a little community in Pennsylvania, little starts are being produced every day by the Amish to dispense into the world (the recipe states that only the Amish know how to make the starts). One day, I am bound to cross paths with a friend looking for a good home to raise one of her starters. When that happens, I'm pretty sure I'll be out-of-town.

Mama Said There'd Be Days Like This...

Yesterday, instead of taking a shower I decided to mop my bathroom floor. Mopping one's bathroom floor becomes top priority once the toilet has overflowed and water is creeping out through the door (and can I just say that watching the water in your toilet bowl rise, and rise, and rise to the edge is the most horrifying thing ever?). While this alone was fun, what made it even more fun was when I realized that my sweet baby had prematurely awaken from her nap, and was screaming her head off. The cherry on top was that my son was home sick from school, and my husband was on call and would not be home until the next morning.

If my mama had told me about yesterday, I would have found a hole to crawl into and never come out.

Freezer Jam

A month or so ago, Better Homes and Gardens listed tips on how to clean the air in your home. My favorite tip was the advice they gave to remove dust mites from your child's room. For stuffed animals that can not be laundered, they suggest merely freezing the animals once a week for a few hours. In that case, I think I need to buy a deep freeze.

"Choose Ye this Day to Serve the Lord"

My mom recently made me aware of a talk given by Julie B. Beck at BYU's Women's Conference back in April. It is very powerful and inspiring. I could not find a text copy of the talk, so I have put a link to the video on my sidebar under "Inspiring Articles". Here are the quotes and teachings I found inspiring:

"Taking care of our posterity takes precedence over all other things."

"The vision of our family is the vision of our purpose before the Lord"

"All priesthood power has order, boundaries, and limits to its use. But in our personal lives we are only limited by our faithfulness and desires to acheive that ability to receive that spirit to function in our lives."

"The ability to seek, receive, and act on personal revelation is the most important skill we can acquire in this life. When we have that spirit we can walk with God. We can know and discern and make proper choices... Education is wonderful, but being able to feel the Lord's power and spirit upon us is the ultimate education we can acheive. With that we have power and influence. Without it we will not be able to navigate in this life. The adversary will pick us off one by one."

How do we choose to walk with the Lord and how do we do this?
Know our responsibilities and how to fulfill them:

• Increased faith and personal righteousness
• Stronger homes and families ("Women are like a lioness at the gate, the home. Whatever happens in that home and family happens because she cares about it and it matters to her.")
• Women support each other

Prioritze ("When our priorities are out of order we lose power.") Sister Beck's system for priortizing:

1. Essential- ("If I don't take care of these things, the blessings of eternal life will not be mine nor the blessings of my family.")

• Revelation- Knowing the mind/will of God. (Increased through reading scriptures, personal prayer, time to ponder, sincere fasting).
• Making & Keeping Covenants. (sacrament/weekly repentance, temple attendance, sharing the Gospel, service).

2. Necessary- (What is necessary to create an environment where the Spirit of the Lord is present? Making a home.)

• Making a house of order (cleaning/homemaking/family meals)
• Smiling/being happy
• FHE/family time to teach children to walk uprightly
• D/C 25:5- Support husband, vs. 10- value things important for family. Not wordly things.
• Self reliance (temporal self reliance leads to greater spiritual self reliance)
• Loving one another

3. Nice to Do- (Crafts/hobbies/recreational reading/movies/lunches with friends/travel)

• "When our priorites are on that list, and our time is devoted to those things, then our priorties are out of order and we lose power."

A mother works many shifts (morning, afternoon, night). Ask self, "Where do I need to be at the top of my game?". Safegauard the "afternoon shift" when everyone comes home tired, hungry, needy, and less loveable (including ourselves). They are also more teachable and more grateful. Don't expend energy on other two shifts.

Using a paperback Book of Mormon, write three questions on first blank page:

1. Who am I?
2. Whare are my responsibilities in the House of Israel?
3. How do I fulfill my resonsibilities?

As you read, write the answers in the blank pages at the back of the book.