Aaron was a bit like this when we first started dating. Ask him about his Australian accent. If you're lucky you might even get a demonstration. I have to admit, I did my best to kill it -I didn't like the feeling of dating the Crocodile Hunter-Aaron did his best to preserve it. I think it was the pivotal struggle of our early relationship. You can judge for yourself who won.
Wednesday, March 12, 2008
Diary of A Wimpy Kid
If you have a second, check out Diary of a Wimpy Kid by Jeff Kinney. The book follows the rather wimpy Greg Heffley through the pain and glory of fifth, sixth, and seventh grade. If you are about my age you probably have enough distance from those painful junior high memories to really laugh. Check it out here.
Sunday, March 9, 2008
RS-P-E-C-T
So a couple of months ago I was sitting in church and I thought, I can't be in relief society any more. I need a new calling. I REALLY NEED a new calling. I need a calling that will get me out of RS. A week or two later I was called to Nursery and I was sooo happy.
Don't get me wrong, the relief society in my ward is top notch. They're fun and caring and sensitive and everything else a RS is supposed to be. But I had sensed earlier that I was "wanted" back in nursery. On top of that I had started feeling uncomfortable in RS. RS sometimes feels like a RA-RA, We're all Moms! sort of scene. And I would walk away from the RS lesson repeating to myself: my life is not worthless, my life is not worthless, even if I have no children and am very clearly a" woman who does NOT know," a woman "without faith" (women of faith have children) I am not a bad person. I'm a good person. I like myself. Aaron likes me. I like God. I'm pretty sure He likes me. Zero population is the answer my friend, without the rest of us are doomed. (Just kidding about that last one. He he. ) I started getting really sick of feeling that way every Sunday. So hurray for nursery and two year olds who like Moms but don't really care if you are one.
Not going to relief society has lifted some of the pressure, but I still have a feeling of uneasiness. I feel like I keep hearing talks that have a "with us or against us" tone towards motherhood. In some ways I can understand the mom cheering: It validates a very difficult time of life which involves a lot of self-sacrifice and gets VERY little recognition. If you are a mom you can go to church and get some R-E-S-P-E-C-T in the Aretha Franklin sort of way.
But it hurts to hear that I am a woman without faith. It feels like a slap in the face. I always thought I was faithful. Am I not faithful? Are my present efforts in my life and work worthless? What is it with all the comparing? I feel like I respect mothers, but I don't feel like I don't get much respect back. I get more curious questioning: so when are you...
People seem to very casually toss out that everything we do in this earth life except kids is worthless. But doesn't intelligence rise with us, when we die? Don't we treasure the work of women? What if Austen never wrote her novels? Emily Dickinson never wrote her poetry, Marie Curie never did her research, or Eliza R Snow never wrote her hymns? Where would we be without In Our Lovely Deseret??
What if ALL women everywhere did not work outside the home. If they filled no positions in government. They were not health care providers or teachers or professors or scientists or authors or artists or business women or hair dressers or astronauts. Wouldn't that be a sad world? Would our daughters believe us when we tell them they can be anything, do anything, if all of us fill a single occupation? I mean, I know having children doesn't mean you automatically stop working outside the home, have as many kids as is humanly possible, and become a domestic goddess but that seems to be the cultural expectation. Is that expectation righteous or assumed? Didn't Christ tell Martha that Mary chose the better part by not taking up the domestic act?
These are very real questions for me. They aren't meant to be rhetorical. Particularly that question about what the world would be like without In Our Lovely Deseret, very important to think about. I'd love to hear opinions.
Don't get me wrong, the relief society in my ward is top notch. They're fun and caring and sensitive and everything else a RS is supposed to be. But I had sensed earlier that I was "wanted" back in nursery. On top of that I had started feeling uncomfortable in RS. RS sometimes feels like a RA-RA, We're all Moms! sort of scene. And I would walk away from the RS lesson repeating to myself: my life is not worthless, my life is not worthless, even if I have no children and am very clearly a" woman who does NOT know," a woman "without faith" (women of faith have children) I am not a bad person. I'm a good person. I like myself. Aaron likes me. I like God. I'm pretty sure He likes me. Zero population is the answer my friend, without the rest of us are doomed. (Just kidding about that last one. He he. ) I started getting really sick of feeling that way every Sunday. So hurray for nursery and two year olds who like Moms but don't really care if you are one.
Not going to relief society has lifted some of the pressure, but I still have a feeling of uneasiness. I feel like I keep hearing talks that have a "with us or against us" tone towards motherhood. In some ways I can understand the mom cheering: It validates a very difficult time of life which involves a lot of self-sacrifice and gets VERY little recognition. If you are a mom you can go to church and get some R-E-S-P-E-C-T in the Aretha Franklin sort of way.
But it hurts to hear that I am a woman without faith. It feels like a slap in the face. I always thought I was faithful. Am I not faithful? Are my present efforts in my life and work worthless? What is it with all the comparing? I feel like I respect mothers, but I don't feel like I don't get much respect back. I get more curious questioning: so when are you...
People seem to very casually toss out that everything we do in this earth life except kids is worthless. But doesn't intelligence rise with us, when we die? Don't we treasure the work of women? What if Austen never wrote her novels? Emily Dickinson never wrote her poetry, Marie Curie never did her research, or Eliza R Snow never wrote her hymns? Where would we be without In Our Lovely Deseret??
What if ALL women everywhere did not work outside the home. If they filled no positions in government. They were not health care providers or teachers or professors or scientists or authors or artists or business women or hair dressers or astronauts. Wouldn't that be a sad world? Would our daughters believe us when we tell them they can be anything, do anything, if all of us fill a single occupation? I mean, I know having children doesn't mean you automatically stop working outside the home, have as many kids as is humanly possible, and become a domestic goddess but that seems to be the cultural expectation. Is that expectation righteous or assumed? Didn't Christ tell Martha that Mary chose the better part by not taking up the domestic act?
These are very real questions for me. They aren't meant to be rhetorical. Particularly that question about what the world would be like without In Our Lovely Deseret, very important to think about. I'd love to hear opinions.
Saturday's Child
Monday's child is fair of face.
Tuesday's child is full of grace.
Wednesday's child is full of woe.
Thursday's child has far to go.
Friday's child is loving and giving.
Saturday's child works hard for a living,
But the child who is born on the Sabbath Day
Is bonny and blithe and good and gay.
Here's a fun little nursery rhyme that supposedly tells your fortune. Aaron and I were both born on a Saturday, so we'll be working hard for our living. What are you?
Thursday, March 6, 2008
Spring is coming!
Last night, I was walking home around sunset and I caught sight of a little bat fluttering at the edge of a small clearing. Seeing him warmed my heart. I love how bats dip and spin in midair, how they consume massive amounts of irritating insects like mosquitos, how you can occasionally hear their tiny squeaks if you listen carefully, and how they're curious and will occasionally dive close to you to check you out. Best of all it means spring is on its way!
While some bats consume tons of terrible bugs, others do a large amount of pollinating. Native plants depend on bats, which is why it's so terrible that the bat populations are facing a threat similar to the honey bee's. (The North American honey bee populations have been cut in half. Read more here.)
Whole colonies of bats are dying, their muzzles covered in a deadly white fungus. Poor bats. Poor plants that will die without bats. Poor North America. But you can help. Go here.
Wednesday, March 5, 2008
Do Not Go Gentle Into That Good Night
DO NOT GO GENTLE INTO THAT GOOD NIGHT
Do not go gentle into that good night,
Old age should burn and rave at close of day;
Rage, rage against the dying of the light.
Though wise men at their end know dark is right,
Because their words had forked no lightning they
Do not go gentle into that good night.
Good men, the last wave by, crying how bright
Their frail deeds might have danced in a green bay,
Rage, rage against the dying of the light.
Wild men who caught and sang the sun in flight,
And learn, too late, they grieved it on its way,
Do not go gentle into that good night.
Grave men, near death, who see with blinding sight
Blind eyes could blaze like meteors and be gay,
Rage, rage against the dying of the light.
And you, my father, there on the sad height,
Curse, bless me now with your fierce tears, I pray.
Do not go gentle into that good night.
Rage, rage against the dying of the light.
This poem has been in my head a lot lately. I often think of it when I'm trying to make a decision. The poem always reminds me that there are so many ways to live and even when we set a path, we'll look back and doubt and wonder at the "road's not taken" but that doubting isn't bad, it's a struggle that can bring more life.
Do not go gentle into that good night,
Old age should burn and rave at close of day;
Rage, rage against the dying of the light.
Though wise men at their end know dark is right,
Because their words had forked no lightning they
Do not go gentle into that good night.
Good men, the last wave by, crying how bright
Their frail deeds might have danced in a green bay,
Rage, rage against the dying of the light.
Wild men who caught and sang the sun in flight,
And learn, too late, they grieved it on its way,
Do not go gentle into that good night.
Grave men, near death, who see with blinding sight
Blind eyes could blaze like meteors and be gay,
Rage, rage against the dying of the light.
And you, my father, there on the sad height,
Curse, bless me now with your fierce tears, I pray.
Do not go gentle into that good night.
Rage, rage against the dying of the light.
This poem has been in my head a lot lately. I often think of it when I'm trying to make a decision. The poem always reminds me that there are so many ways to live and even when we set a path, we'll look back and doubt and wonder at the "road's not taken" but that doubting isn't bad, it's a struggle that can bring more life.
Monday, March 3, 2008
Easter Basket Exchange
My Cousin-in-law, Kari, aka Disco Mom is organizing a Mother's Easter Basket Exchange. She created it with the idea that some of us might be tired of making our own Easter cheer or feel left out when all the kids get their baskets delivered. Here is her explanation:
1. You do not have to be a Mom. You do not even have to be married, female or Christian. The exchange is so named because Moms in general get the shaft on Easter baskets and every other holiday they work so hard to make special for others. But anyone that meets #2 can participate.
2. I have to know you personally or through a reputable source (like you're a friend/relative of my friend/relative.) Even though it's a public blog and I sometimes get comments from strangers, no total strangers in the exchange. Include in your post how I'm supposed to know you.
So I'm assuming I'm a reputable enough source to refer you. I think it's going to be a good time. I know for a fact that Kari takes her chocolate very seriously so you should be in for a wonderful basket delivered to your door. If you want in go here. Let her know soon because the deadline to sign up is the 5th.
I was hesitant about joining in because Aaron got me hooked on the Easter Bilby. But Kari assured me that she was open to all varieties of celebration. It just doesn't feel like Easter anymore without a bilby or two around. Here for fun are a few chocolate Easter Bilbies for you to enjoy. Aren't they cute?
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