Too Honest to Teach

In the LDS church, our teachers and leaders are everyday people like me! No one gets paid, no one is a specialist, it's just a bunch of regular people doing their best to serve. We rotate around different positions, that we refer to as "callings" based off of "inspiration" and let's be honest, convenience. The last few years have found me in the children's organization, we Mormons call "Primary." It was not my favorite place to be, and I admit that I counted down the unknown number of months I was assigned there, more than I should have.

Back in March, I was finally given a new calling/position/assignment. I was thrilled! It's actually been my "dream calling" for years now....Relief Society instructor. Which is teaching once a month the adult women in our church congregation. Between a couple of different church conferences and my traveling abroad, I finally taught my first lesson last week.

I'm not going to mention the title of the lesson here, because the lesson in itself was a huge struggle for me. It was based from a past General Conference talk and seemed to me to be more of a platform about a certain political issue than a goodwill talk. I took the liberty to take a more broad approach to the talk, and one of the subtopics we discussed was having greater love for those around us.

And in the course of such a Christlike theme and discussion, somehow my big mouth shared that the greeters at Wal-Mart bug me. Like the kind of bug me that I don't greet them, and my children have been known to say, "Mom, they said, "Hi" to you and you ignored them. That's rude."

Oh those proud moments when I really shine as a mother.

Among the group of women in our class, one comment briefly reacted to my admittance, and one hand (from a Wal-Mart employee no less) was waiting in the wings, until I really had to move on as time was out. I PROMISE.

Oh dear.
Me and my big mouth.

On the bright side, I had three people come up to me in the week since and tell me how much they appreciated my honesty, and one of them even admitted to disliking the Wal-Mart greeters too. She claims more probably feel the same way we do, but few would admit it. I'm not sure I agree. There are a lot of nice people out there.

And those nice people are probably the ones that the Relief Society lesson the week after mine, taught by no other than the Relief Society President herself was not worried about internalizing. I feel unequivocally and positively certain that the next week's lesson was for me. And me alone.

It was on charity.
And I quote from the good ole' Bible itself:

Chairty suffereth long, and is kind... Doth not behave itself unseemly..is not easily provoked.

I Corinthians 13:4-5

Bet you can't guess what I've been working on in the days since Sunday?

Suffering longer, being more kind, behaving more seemly and being less easily provoked.

AND,

While I'm at it, I'm going to work on being less honest in my admittance about myself and my flaws, and learn to keep my mouth shut more. Oh! And while I'm working on self-improvements, I'll try harder to respond to people that greet me.

It's hard.  Although I'll have you know I walked into Wal-Mart the other day prepared. I had a smile plastered on my face, my hand already in waving position, only to be greeted by...

NO-ONE.

What? No Wal-Mart greeter?! Since when is there no greeter at Wal-Mart? Especially when I'm embarking on some great self-improvement plan!

I tried.

(P.S. It makes Mike crazy when I don't have a photo attached to a post. But I really don't have one that I think would fit. Of course a photo of a Wal-Mart greeter would be appropriate, but I don't think my newfound niceness is quite ready yet to take a selfie with one. But you never know what I might aspire to next....after all, even just my attempt to be kinder/more charitable may be shocking to some.)

Definitely Tough and Hard, But...

You've probably seen the video that went viral about the "world's toughest job." It's heartwarming to watch, and I really quite enjoyed it. I know there are also on the flip-side a lot of critics that didn't enjoy it either for a variety of reasons. I liked it for what it was--a nice, sentimental message that motherhood is hard, often thankless, and on-going. I looked at it as motherhood in general, whether one does other things away from the home or not. Motherhood still requires a mother to show up day in and day out regardless of other employment, interests, pursuits or activities.

Of course I am a big cheerleader of motherhood, and I think it deserves high praise for the often thankless hours, weeks, months and years we put into raising children. However, I sometimes cringe at the high accolades always extolled to motherhood, when there are a lot of wonderful fathers out there, and of course a fair number of shabby mothers.

There are a lot of valuable, much-needed "jobs" in the world, that could definitely be classified as "tough." There are "jobs" that I would NEVER want even if I were to be paid a high salary with fabulous benefits. I will also say, motherhood is a tough job, but the toughest? I'm not sure about that. Hard? Yes. Difficult? Yes. Tough? Yes. But putting the "est" on any of those, raises it to a level that I don't think is fair for so many reasons.

With that being said, I think the sentiments behind this video are wonderful, and there is certainly a fair amount of truth to the "job" descriptions...

Well worth the watch.

Realities of Motherhood

I'm not sure if I've been in vacation mode too much lately, or if it is just the realities of life that have me a little less cheery and smiley than I should be. I've found myself getting smacked in the face with reality one too many times in the recent days. Let me share:

~ Seeing the shocked looks on my children's faces the other morning when I announced that the first waffle in the waffle maker was for ME!

~ Looking at the family calendar on the side of the fridge and the March page has mysteriously disappeared. Of course the Shall Remain Nameless person who removed February swears they didn't accidentally rip of March too. We're considering hibernating for the whole month of March. Well, or forgetting any and all appointments and commitments.

~ Telling the children they can't use our toilet, despite the other 2 toilets being clogged. Are we the only family that always seems to have a clogged toilet?

~ And while we're on the subject of toilets. I can't stand that more often than not I have to wipe the toilet seat before I can sit on it.

~ Seeing your 6 year old get a straw and sip hot fudge sauce directly from the warm pan. Instead of correcting his behavior, I stop and stare at him and wonder why in the world I've never thought of doing this myself?!?

~ After being out of town for several days, being greeted first thing in the morning with a demand for clean underwear.

~ Excitedly announced to Mike and Megan the other day, that I paid a donation to my church and deposited a check into my bank account, all while sitting at the same office chair. I was so proud of my modern advances in technology when Megan announced, "That's why America is so fat." She realized how it sounded as soon as it came out, and quickly tried to explain herself further and apologize about any implications she may have inferred. In the meantime, despite us all having a good laugh around the table, I felt my initial excitement about my financial advances quickly wane.

~ Trying to reconcile the random comment from my 4 year old when he woke up and announced, "I thought I was sleeping in applesauce."

Sitting at the computer extending an upcoming trip and feeling a mix of sadness at missing my children for even longer, but quickly replaced that with feelings of excitement that I'll have a few extra days without anyone whining at me.

~ Making the mother-of-the-year decision to cook homemade waffles for breakfast on Fast Sunday instead of fasting. (Something we Mormons are encouraged to do each month. You can read about it HERE.) Feeling even worse about my decision when one child refused to eat the homemade syrup and instead insisted on going to see if we could borrow syrup from the neighbor. Thus spreading the news about our lack of faithful obedience.

~ Trying to remain sympathetic and not laugh while Drew describes his recent bout with diarrhea. "It was coming out so fast and I couldn't stop pooping."

Sometimes motherhood is dreamy and rewarding. More often than not it is real and ordinary.

Thankful Amidst the Realness

I've been reading daily gratitude lists from friends via social media, and my children and I (Mike?? Not so much.) have been faithfully adding to our Traditional November Pantry Door Thankful Papers. Yet, I feel like in spite of all the reminders of our blessings, this week especially has been easy to focus on the things I don't have.

I don't mean, things per se. I mean things like a more organized toy closet, a home for the package of toilet paper that sat in the hall for too many days and dirty clothes placed only in hampers, and nothing but tidy rooms throughout the house.

Enough already.
It's November!
The month of thankfulness and Thanksgiving--my favorite holiday.

Last year for my birthday, my sister-in-law bought this sign for me. I LOVE it. I smiled when I brought it back out on November 1st, and I smile every day when I look at it.

I do have a lot to be thankful for. We all do--those are the things that are easy to add to the Pantry Door Papers. I'm trying to be more grateful for those "other things" that are an invariable part of my life.

Here's an example of what I mean.

• A tile floor covered with leaves, sand, footballs and jackets means my children enjoy being outside playing.
• A tile floor with crumbs and food intermixed with the leaves and sand makes me realize the food we have in abundance. Some children would gladly eat those remnants from the floor.
• Messy bedrooms and undone chores give me the opportunity to teach my children good principles.
• An on-going challenging relationship with a family member means I have the opportunity for personal growth.
• Dirty underwear on bedroom floors and discarded socks strewn around the house mean my children understand personal hygiene to some degree, and they are changing their socks and underwear daily.
• Wet towels on bathroom or bedroom floors also mean they are grasping the hygiene thing.
• Homework papers covering counter tops mean my children are putting effort into their education.
• Making homemade lunches gives me the opportunity to provide my children with healthy lunches I know they will enjoy.
• A husband that has been snoring earlier than usual means he has worked another hard day and is doing his best to provide for our family.
• Drywall dust covering my bathroom and bedroom reminds me that a desire of mine is being met through the work of others.
• Having the workers have to come back to fix a mistake will allow me even more time to be patient and accepting of people without "people skills."
• Music strewn across my pianos and front room reminds me my children are advancing in their musical skills, and helping others advance too.
• A few extra pounds on the scale tell me I have a husband who often asks me to meet him for lunch or go out to dinner with him.
• A garage door that doesn't work properly reminds me that at least I have a covered place to park my vehicle on snowy/frosty nights.
• "Finger lines" through the dust on my black tables, and finger-prints on the back door allow me to daydream of future days when my house will stay cleaner longer.
• Not being able to see my mud-room floor tells me my children have plenty of jackets, coats and shoes to wear in the colder weather.
• Being frustrated with my new cell phone makes me appreciate being able to upgrade when the old one wasn't working well.
• The chaos of the morning routine helps me appreciate the closing of my front door at 8:23am even more than if mornings were peaceful and harmonious.
• Fixing dinner for my family each night gives me the opportunity to teach them manners and etiquette about responses to food that doesn't quite agree with their palates. 
• A bar stool slid up to the cupboard where I keep my "secret" chocolate stash gives me the opportunity to share fine chocolate with a 4 year old.

I always have much to be thankful for.

Even if I have to look for it sometimes.

Deliberate?!

(Somewhat unrelated to this post, but I did get a good chuckle out of this when I saw it.)

Recently Mike and I reconnected with an old friend. We were thrilled to have renewed our association with him, after losing contact with him about a decade ago. In our recent conversations, it became apparent that this guy had done some searching for us online, and saw my name associated with all sorts of articles, activities, etc. Of course all connected to... motherhood.

Sometimes I feel badly that my name is associated with so much out there. Some days I wonder what I have to offer anybody... specifically, I'm having a hard time with the fact I'm heading to Arizona next weekend to talk amongst a group of mothers about enjoying motherhood.

Even though I do love being a mother, and I want to encourage other mothers to love motherhood, sometimes I find myself embarrassed to be so involved in the Power of Moms, a gathering place for deliberate mothers. I KNOW that the the deliberate in the Power of Moms byline is not referring to being deliberately unkind. Yet some days I feel like that is what I'm being.

Well, you know. Not that I am deliberately being unkind, but sometimes it just comes out...

Things like,

"Well, what's in it for me?"

"Don't talk to me anymore."

"You guys make me crazy."

"I am not a maid."

"I'm done."

"Goodnight. I don't want to see you until morning."

"Move over. I'm eating first."

"I'm checking out, and I don't know when I'll check back in."

Other times I don't even say anything, I just slam a door. (Or two.)

I probably should quit before losing any chance of respect.
Sometimes I'm a deliberate mother.
Other times?
Not so much.

Brevity and Conciseness.

I'm not a frequent Facebook status writer. Although I love reading others, I don't often write one myself. I find it difficult to wrap up a thought in a sentence or two. If you've read more than one or two posts of mine, you know I'm long-winded not succinct.

As a writer, I often find myself "thinking in sentences". I spent the last week or so, recording those sentences when I thought them. Here are a few moments of my life captured in just a sentence or two.

Found myself laughing hysterically during a game of Operation with Drew the other morning. He can NOT grasp the concept that the tweezers are not supposed to be touching the sides. I think he thinks the buzzing sound of the tweezers on the sides are some form of cheers for his efforts.

Lifting a crying first grader up into the school bus is difficult--emotionally and physically, especially more than once.

Wondering if any other parent rigs the cards in Candyland so it ends a little more quickly than otherwise?

I'm not sure what to think of Ellie's response when she told me that a 5th grader on the school bus said to her, "Your mom is really, really pretty." Ellie's response? Absolute puzzlement and bewilderment.

Spent a couple afternoons helping with school lunch for the 1st graders last week. I have personally committed myself to never again allow my children to eat school food again.

Mildly concerned I'm actually beginning to like the sights, sounds and smells of the livestock portion of fairs.

Forgot about my no school lunch commitment a couple days later when I found myself pleading with my children to have school lunch the other day when I was having a minor meltdown. It included asking myself, How many more days of the school year are there that I have to fix home lunches for? There may have even been tears when I answered the question. 174!!! So depressing. Joshua took the bait and tried school lunch for the first time ever. He isn't planning on repeating that anytime soon.

Never quite gotten into the fascination with "selfies." Nor have I ever tried to make myself have a double chin. That comes naturally for me.

Sunsets and sunrises have always reminded me to take one day at a time. Beautiful ones remind me to enjoy those days even more.

Love and adore my wonderful associations with so many fabulous fellow-mothers out there. Would love to name names of some of my favorites, but I just can't. I think they know who they are though.

One of my favorite candies are Milk Duds. After being around a lot of goats for several hours at the last two fairs, Milk Duds have lost their appeal to me for a while.

There are a few of my thoughts in a sentence or two.

Sitting Around

(Photo completely unrelated to this post, but after reading it you might find a subliminal reasoning for using this particular photo. Besides, Mike gets disappointed when there isn't a photo with a post.)

Last week, Mike and I got into a doozy of an argument. I'll sum it up by telling you this much, Mike eventually reached a point he was really mad at me. (I can count on one hand he's ever been that mad.) To which I replied, "I'm just trying to make a point." To which he then replied, "Oh, you're making it alright."

I continued "making my point" and he continued being mad at me for longer than either of us needed to engage in such drollness.

Blah, blah, blah, the details don't really matter, but this part does.

A dinner meeting with some business associates.
Some pretty hefty business talk.
One comment made by someone referring to his wife who works a job away from home, and said, "She wouldn't want to just sit around."
To which I replied, "Not sure any stay at home mother does "just sit around."
I may or may not have ended the dinner appointment with a pretty stinky attitude, and Mike may or may not have been slightly embarrassed of my sudden change of attitude toward said dinner companions.

And then mine and Mike's next few days went rapidly downhill.
Not because Mike does or doesn't think I "sit around", but because I chose to take offense by the guys comment, when no offense was meant.

It wasn't that I was offended per se, I just have a passion (and protection) for mothers.
All mothers.

Today I'm talking about those that stay home and have no outside employment.

We don't "sit around".

I honestly don't care if women choose to work, or need to work to help provide financially. What I do care about is when people (I've heard it more times than I'd like), make comments like, "Would get bored at home" or "Wouldn't want to sit around" or "Want to be actually doing something." (Those are all exact words I have had said to me over the years by people I know.)

Now. Perhaps some mothers would feel bored, or feel like they are sitting around, or feel as though they are not doing something if they don't have paid employment. That is very fair to say-just as some don't feel as fulfilled by motherhood in and of itself as some do. Fine by me. Just don't assume that those of us that do stay home fit that same criteria.

We're all different. And though "words are just words" they can totally set me off.

I am rarely bored, I never "sit around" and I am pretty much always doing something.

Mike and I have made the decision to go without a lot of "extra" things and have me stay home. I will absolutely admit there are afternoons I may sit outside on a chair and read a book, but I wouldn't classify that as "sitting around." If my child starts throwing up that night, I'm the one that will likely be holding the ponytail as vomit falls into the toilet, and if a child has a bad dream, I am most often the one to go help. Not that Mike doesn't do those things, but we've always had the arrangement that if there is a sleepless night, I can be more sluggish the next day than he can. (Laundry can wait. Business deadlines can not.)

As for wanting to be doing something. I do quite a bit BECAUSE I don't have a job to go to. I volunteer at the school, write articles for various web-sites, take cookies to the bus-stop, involve myself with Power of Moms stuff, etc. etc. All things I would likely not be able to fit in, were I to fit in 20-40 hours a week for paid employment.

As for being bored?
Don't get me started on that.
MAYBE I got bored once in a while earlier on in my career when I had one child and not enough personal interests. Boredom now seems like a desirable, yet elusive reward I will likely never attain.

That's all.
Rant over.

My Multiple Personality

I've found myself in several situations lately that make me question my true personality style. Do I tend to be  assertive and domineering? Or more passive and compliant? Am I rational and calm or more anxious and uneasy? Or heaven forbid am I all of the above?!

A couple of weeks ago while standing in a line, 2 people cut in front of me. I didn't hesitate to question the situation with the line cutters or the nearby worker who was allowing the cutting. I know it was one of those proud parent moments for my dad who was standing by my side. (He would have done the same thing.)

While at a car dealership the other day with Mike, he was 'negotiating' car prices. I wanted to crawl under the table when the car salesman, then the sales manager, THEN the owner came to deal with Mike and his "I want to pay this amount ($_____) and no higher." Mike's assertiveness was in full bloom. I was wishing I could disappear and was willing to give them just about any amount of money in order to expedite our exit.

Upon arriving at a family camp-out the other day, pretty much before even greeting my father-in-law, I spewed forth my opinion and a few complaints about the situation. I tried so hard as I was walking into the camp to talk myself out of saying anything, but I just couldn't! My opinion was boiling up inside of me and I had to release it. I did however make up for the sharing of my opinion by nothing but pleasantness coming out of my mouth for the 18 hours that followed.

While hiking with my sister-in-law, I was trying my best not to panic while she was leading us off the trail and down the side of a mountain. With thunder rumbling overhead, I kept following her lead, despite being convinced we would end up on the 10 o'clock news that night. All the while she kept forging forward without seeming to have a care in the world.

Mike and our neighbor were discussing the dangers of trampolines the other day. Me? I didn't share any of their opinions, worries or concerns. Let the children jump away.

But...

My children taking too long in the pet shop the other day? I had myself convinced someone was turning them into dog slaves in the backroom! Or if one of my children tells a lie, I am convinced they have a criminal future ahead of them and I am imaging them living a life behind prison bars. All because they told me no, it wasn't them that ate the Twix from my chocolate stash, even though their breath clearly smells like a mix of caramel and chocolate. (Mike calls my worries and fears "irrational", I prefer to call myself a creative worrier.)

At church on Sunday, I went up to the front to where Megan was playing prelude music on the organ to ask her if she could do without her glasses I left sitting on the kitchen table. While there, I noticed we were not going to be singing ANY patriotic songs on the weekend following the 4TH OF JULY!!! Sometimes, I just can't help but blurt out my thoughts... I promptly turned to the bishopric member (church congregation leader) sitting nearby and told him we should be singing a PATRIOTIC song on July 6th! I take 100% of the credit that our closing hymn was 'The Star Spangled Banner'.

Complete side note here--I was somewhat proud of myself when after aforementioned church meeting, the Bishop came up to me and said, "I want you to know I noticed you sang all three verses of The Star Spangled Banner today without looking at the hymn book once. I was very impressed and want you to know I noticed." I certainly wasn't expecting anyone to notice, I just happen to know all the verses to that hymn, as I do many others. What I do expect though, is no one to mess with my patriotism and/or love of singing church hymns. We should sing patriotic songs during patriotic holidays and Christmas songs during Christmas time and so on and so forth. Don't get me started...

Despite all the times I can give someone my opinion, or speak my mind, I can't seem to be able to tell one of our employees who I have only interacted with 5 times total that MY NAME IS TiffANY not Tiff. It makes me crazy every time he greets me with "Hey Tiff!" Yet I can't bring myself to say anything but "Hi" back. I'm not sure whether that is an improvement or a setback from the days of my dating years when a blind date showed up on my doorstep and said, "Hi, you must be Tiff" and I responded, "It's Tiffany to you."

Sidenote--I have NO ISSUE at all if people I know well call me Tiff.  However, an employee I've met 4 times and a blind date do not fit that bill.

Those are just a few examples of a possible multiple personality diagnosis.
You never know what you're going to get with me.
Aren't you glad you know me?

On second thought, maybe you shouldn't answer that.

Judging Less, Loving More

Recently, one of my children was involved in an unfortunate exchange with an adult. As a parent, I was shocked and disgusted at the event, as was my child. Although the person later apologized for "misunderstanding the situation", there was no apology for more specifics as I would have liked.

(I am purposefully being vague about this particular situation. The specifics do not need to be shared publicly.)

I only shared the situation with one friend, knowing I could trust her completely, and hoping for a little advice. Although this particular friend has scaled much greater mountains of compassion and forgiveness than this little (somewhat) insignificant situation I found myself in, she validated my feelings.

As the days passed, I felt myself feeling more and more irritated that this event happened, and that an adult would act in such a way. It isn't that it necessarily surprised me that this particular adult would be capable of such an exchange, but that it would happen with one of my children is what bother (s) (ed) me most.

I found myself disappointed in myself that I would even temporarily hold a grudge, and kept doubting my ability to be cordial to this person when a future (inevitable) interaction happens.

My focus this last week has been on "forgetting" the incident and feeling no ill-will towards the person involved. I find it no coincidence that on Sunday morning a dear friend shared with me specifically, a video. Knowing nothing about my previous week, but recalling a conversation from months before, this friend believed I would appreciate the video. I'll take it one step further, I think this friend was inspired to send me the video. (Thank you, Michelle!)

As I watched the short video I found myself imagining the specific "descriptions" applying to the adult in the questionable exchange with my child. With tears in my eyes, I was humbly reminded, that it is not for me to judge another person's actions. And though a child of mine was clearly wronged, what a lesson for me (and Mike) and one of our children to (re) learn--we have no idea what was going on in that person's life that day.

Instead of holding a grudge or being irritated, my job is to judge less and love more.

I shared my experience and the video with my little family this afternoon. Now I'm sharing it with you.
~enjoy

(This video was put together by a hospital in Cleveland. Believe me, it is well worth 4 minutes of your time to watch.)

Hoping No One Else Has Regrets

(photo courtesy of Macy Robison)

Perhaps you read the article written recently by a mother who made the claim that having her two children was the biggest regret of her life. (You can read the article HERE.) Obviously with a headline and article like that, many voices chimed in with their opinions and comments. While not one to typically get wrapped up in shock-value stories, for some reason I’ve had this one on my mind ever since reading it.

When I linked to it on my Facebook page after reading it, I mentioned that I wished I could sit around my kitchen table and discuss it with some of the wonderful women I know. I still do. I feel like there is SO much for all of US to learn from that one mother's experience. 

Despite the author’s shocking claim, and the bluntness of her article, I can’t help but feel sadness for a mother, who started down a path she never enjoyed. Though I don’t know any other mother who feels this way about her role as a mother, I do know mothers who are unsure and unhappy with motherhood. I’m sure you know some too. Which is why, as I think about this regretful mother, I think about how vital it is for each of US as mothers AND women to master a few seemingly simple yet difficult principles.

1. Judge Less
It really is too bad that we frequently need to remind ourselves that we are not walking in anyone’s shoes but our own. I don’t typically read comments from articles, but this article certainly piqued my interest enough to scan through some of them. My intent here, is not to choose sides, but merely to say, perhaps we should be much slower to judge this mother, as we should be with ALL mothers. We would all benefit from reminding ourselves that rarely do we know the whole story. Whether we're observing a mother lacking patience with her children at the grocery store, or reading an article about something we disagree with, too often we (please someone tell me it isn’t only me?) are guilty of jumping up on our mothering pedestals and casting judgement instead of love and encouragement. 

2. Accept Individuality More

Our roles as women are complicated and vast. Some women want motherhood, some do not. Some mothers love being a mother, for others it is something they tolerate. Some mothers stay home with their children, some mothers have employment outside of the home. Some mothers homeschool, some mothers excitedly wave to their children as they board a school bus. Which one is better? Let me correct myself , which one is better for YOU and YOUR family? As mothers, aren’t we glad there are few rights and wrongs in motherhood, and a whole lot of “It’s right for us.”? The stance “It’s right for us” affords us variety and individuality as we mother our children differently. Yet too often we are quick to categorize other mothers doings as “right or wrong”, while wanting our doings categorized as “right for us.” We need to give all mothers the same acceptance we want.

3. Encourage Always

I wonder what a difference it may have been, if the mother who classified having children as “a regret” felt supported and encouraged. I wonder if anyone ever put their arm around her and encouraged her to share her thoughts and feelings. A lot of mothers in our midst are depressed, unhappy and discouraged in their roles as a mother. What are we doing to help them? Oftentimes our assistance can be quite simple, an encouraging word, a couple of hours of babysitting, or a listening ear. Other times our encouragement may need to be more. Either way, what are we doing to encourage other mothers?

Although some of us may love motherhood more than others, being a mother is no easy task for anyone. I think that is one of the reasons the mother sharing her sad story tugged at my heart. Motherhood (and womanhood) is not a cookie cutter type lifestyle. We are all so vastly different, and all in different stages of contentment and confidence. There seems to be some proverbial mold we are supposed to fit, but few do. We need to toss the mold and cut each other some slack.

Too often, we mothers are our own worst enemies. I’m a firm believer that the more we encourage, and strengthen the mothers around us, the better we will become in the process. At the risk of controversy, I say bravo to the mother for being brave enough to share her story. Perhaps in the process she has encouraged and helped another mother.

I find it fitting that at the end of the article, the mother refers to her adult children, one of whom now has a debilitating disease, and she is the full-time care-giver. As only a mother could, she states that if it were possible, she would have the disease instead of her daughter. She further says she would cut off her right arm if either of her children needed it.

What does this tell us? She is a mother who loves her children.

We mothers are far more similar than we are different.

My Preparation was Packing

Back in February, in preparation for my upcoming trip to Boston, my mother-in-law sent me home one day laden with history books. One of the books was a simple guide book, and I found myself looking through it frequently. Although I must admit I had a tendency to linger a little too long on the "shopping and dining" sections more than the history stuff.

By the time you read this, I will be flying across the skies with my mother-in-law and sister-in-law. Both very intelligent women with an emphasis on history, art, and nearly everything I don't have an interest in (or knowledge of!).

Back to my history studies.

One of the history books sat by my bed for weeks. Each night I would get a nagging feeling as I looked at it sitting there, but I always chose to read a different book from my nightstand. A month or so ago, Mike and I were visiting with some friends and I told them about my need to study up on Boston history. They looked at me like I was crazy, and one of them quipped, "Isn't that why you are going?"

A light bulb went on. Yes, I decided. I'm going to Boston to learn about it, not the other way around.

Except those books, especially the one of my nightstand continued to nag at me.

On the handful of nights when I did actually pick it up to read it, it was late, I was tired, and it was painful for me to try to understand. I'd last about 3-5 minutes maximum. (I'm a lot of things, but intelligent and intellectually stimulating is not one of them.)

Two weeks ago, I was feeling stretched too thin. I had too many demands on my time and I felt taxed beyond the realm of my normal endurance. As I climbed into bed, the thick history book caught my eye and the nightly nag began to creep into my thoughts.  In a sudden moment of spontaneous empowerment I picked it up and removed it from my nightstand. Immediately I felt a weight lift from me. I think I had been figuratively carrying that darn book (and the other one almost twice its size) on my shoulders since February.

I haven't touched either of them since.

Despite it being all good and well that I had that moment of personal empowerment (or resignation), the fact still remains that I am traveling to Boston with two intelligent women who know their US history inside and out, and all I know about Boston is that there was some sort of tea party there once.

And it wasn't the kind of tea party I read anything about under the "shopping and dining" section of the one "Boston book" I actually did spend a decent amount of time looking at.

Here's to five days of history lessons.
Wish me luck...

Lessons From the Friendly Skies

Things I learned on my recent weekend trip to California while traveling with my friend, Allyson.

(We didn't plan the arm thing.)

1. Don’t sit next to jerks on the plane. I’ll explain further.

Although there is a somewhat “unspoken rule” that the window seat person controls the window, some people obviously don’t know that. Which is why I again refer to my previous lesson; don’t sit next to jerk’s on the plane. I know "jerk" is a strong word. But it's better than what I called him on Friday.

Okay, yes. He could have just had a bad day. But huffing aloud and rolling his eyes at least 4 times, plus plugging his ears, and then ultimately saying, “Oh I see how it is. You control the window do you?” to my friend Allyson after she had closed the window because I was convinced the plane was not simply turning, but heading wing first into the Pacific Ocean.

(Not to mention the fact he kept his foot inside my bag and wouldn’t budge it even when I was reaching to retrieve my bag.)

2. Not everyone wants to help out and let two traveling partners sit together. So if you fly Southwest and thus your seats aren't assigned, and you're some of the last to board the plane, you end up being extremely thankful for the girl who immediately upon seeing us want to sit together (once she un-engrossed herself from her ipad and realized other people were on the plane) gave up her seat immediately. 

3. Do not fly in the winter. I have enough fear of DRIVING in snow and FLYING in any weather, and so the combination of a delayed flight, turbulent skies, and then having to get in the car and ride home on snowpacked roads at 30 mph was almost too much for my travel anxiety. Thank heavens for over the counter anxiety meds or I may surely have died.

4. Fly with a friend. I love Mike, but he seems to have his own unspoken rule that when he flies he reads. Not Allyson. We talked non-stop the entire way there and back. (Okay, so maybe the guy next to me had reason to put his fingers in his ears, but  it still wasn’t a very nice gesture.)

5. On the return flight home sit in between aforementioned friend and a nice BYUI student who let me squeeze her leg (well I didn’t actually ask, it just kind of happened). Nice Kimberly, told me she has a horrid fear of public speaking which was quite ironic considering that was exactly WHY I was on the plane ride in the first place. Bless her.

6. Don't squeeze friend Allyson's hands quite as tightly as I must have been to have her say, "I'm a writer and a pianist and have delicate fingers. Please don't break my bones."

7. At the airport sit next to nice men who when seeing both my friend and I need to charge our phones at the same time and there is only one plug available offers us the USB port on his ipad to charge into. Sure it made us have to sit kind of close to the man on the floor of the LAX airport, but when you’re offering to be friendly that’s the price you pay. (Mike's convinced he retrieved all of Allyson's information and his kindness was simply a ploy for identity theft. How rude of Mike. The USB port sharer was a nice man and I feel the desire to defend him.)

I have a picture of the cute older man, but decided against publishing it on my blog.

8. While feeling tense and panicky about upcoming flight into a massive snowstorm, notice a man’s hat on backwards with a somewhat crude saying on it facing us. Allyson and I laughed hysterically at it. We both took pictures and sent to people we knew that would appreciate it. Except I don’t think anyone really appreciated it as much as we did, as neither of us got any responses to our texts. Maybe we were so exhausted and panicked (me) that we would have laughed about just about anything.

Speaking of feeling tense and panicky, dear Allyson decided to completely eliminate the risk of us not being able to sit together on our return flight home and went to speak to the gate agent. I'm not quite sure I want to know exactly what she must have said about her "friend with severe travel anxiety" to have returned with this:

(can you see the fine print? on the basis of "disability")

It made me laugh so much. You'd never know from the photo that I was one step away from having a panic attack of all panic attacks. (Not that I've ever had one, but I'm fairly certain I was close on Sunday night.)

9. Don’t leave my can of Pringles in my brother’s car. A delayed flight caused for a little extra hungriness and it would have been nice to offer them to my hungry friend in exchange for letting me hold her hand. (I was too tense and panicked to have eaten anything myself.)

10. That driving through a major snow storm while being able to feel sand in my toes (thanks to my niece throwing sand on the beach), did not make me think only of my good California memories just hours before. It made me realize that I should move to California where there will never be the risk of snowy roads.

11. Pray. Pray. Pray. And then Pray some more. I’m alive and well and survived flying and driving in a snowstorm in one day. It better never happen again.

12. Which it won’t, because the biggest thing I learned was to stay home from now on and never have to worry about weather, and airplanes, and turbulence, or heading wing first into the Pacific Ocean again.

Maybe by the next time a trip opportunity comes around, I'll have forgotten about this one.

(More on why I went to California and my visit with some of my favorite people there later...)

My Real Feelings

I am once again feeling brave enough to bring up the subject of the Boy Scouts of America. I've done it before HERE.

I do not DISLIKE the Boy Scouts of America. Sure, there are a lot of the procedures that make me crazy, namely the emphasis of the program as it correlates to the LDS church, and the price of any item in a Boy Scout store, or the background check necessary to even say the words Scouting Program. Oh and this one that I'll interrupt myself here with: I wish I had a photo of me last week at Luke's pack meeting when he was presented with his Webelos award. I was wearing all of the "Mothers' Pins" I have "earned" thus far in the BSA program. Luke presented me with my 4th one that night. I might add, that I'm fairly certain I was the only mother wearing any previous Mothers' Pins. (I wear them to each pack meeting I attend and every once in while to be funny, sarcastic or overly sentimental. Okay not ever for that last reason.) Really, what do those pins mean anyway? That I helped out? That I'm thrifty, cheerful, kind, trustworthy, courteous, etc? Or that somehow all my nagging, all my patience, and all the biting of my tongue somehow qualifies me for a tiny piece of metal that should be worn on a shirt not stored in a jewelry box?!

I digress. Here's what I really struggle with...

Last Sunday, Luke was working on finishing up his last few requirements to receive his Arrow of Light award. (The passageway from the Cub Scout program to the Boy Scout program.) One of the requirements was to memorize the Boy Scout oath and law.

The oath being:
On my honor I will do my best
To do my duty to God and my country
and to obey the Scout Law;
To help other people at all times;
To keep myself physically strong,
mentally awake, and morally straight.

The law being:
A Scout is:
Trustworthy, Loyal, Helpful,
Friendly, Courteous, Kind,
Obedient, Cheerful, Thrifty,
Brave, Clean, Reverent

As Luke was attempting to get all those positive character traits recited in the correct order, it hit me what my big pet peeve with the BSA/Mormon connection is:

It seems so much emphasis is placed on getting the awards, achievements and advancements and very little is ever said about what really matters. Learning to swim, or to communicate via email, or read a map, or to start a campfire, or do a 50-mile bike ride are great things, but what about the other stuff?

As Luke continued to recite the law (all jumbled up I might add), I interrupted him, and with a surprise lump in my throat said to him that if he lived a life true to all those declarations he was making while reciting the law and oath, he would be an outstanding boy and man. Having an Arrow of Light patch sewn on a shirt, or an Eagle Scout certificate gathering dust in a closet mean little when it comes to real life. Living a life true to the Boy Scout oath and law will mean a lot more than any over-priced patch.

I can't help but think of the big chart in the foyer of our church building that shows publicly the progression of each of the Boy Scouts in our congregation. I wonder how cheerful it makes the boy and his parents feel for everyone to publicly see how far behind he is from his peers. I wonder how kind the other boys are about the supposed encouragement they are supposed to be offering each other. I wonder how helpful the chart really is in helping those Boy Scouts internalize the oath and law.

I know plenty of Eagle Scouts that don't fit the bill of the BSA oath or law.
I know plenty of good boys and men who are not Eagle Scouts, that exemplify many, if not all of those traits mentioned in the oath and law.

I finished my impromptu speech to Luke by telling him that awards, certifications and advancements are great. But in our family, being a Boy Scout will mean trying one's hardest to live the Boy Scout oath and law. Any other achievements within the program will be a great accomplishment, and certainly a worthy goal. But those will come secondary to living the oath and law first.

I then allowed him to continue reciting all the qualities I hope he embeds deep into that little heart and brain of his.

I'm not a BSA naysayer. I'm really not. In fact, I would be one of their biggest fans IF it became less about earning awards and more about making good quality boys into good quality men.

Luke at Webelos Wilderness, June 2012

Culture vs Culture

Several years ago, I visited New York with my mother and two younger brothers. We saw a lot of the popular New York must-see places, and attended a Yankees/Red Sox baseball game. I went to the ball game somewhat grudgingly and even took a book to read during it. (I did not end up reading it, mostly because of threats from my brother not because I didn't want to!)

When I returned, a somewhat hoity-toity person asked me what I had seen while there. Several of the places he mentioned were not even on our radar. Really, the main point of the trip was the Yankees/Red Sox game for my brothers. I was simply tagging along.

Despite the fact I was (and still am) not a baseball fan, walking into that Yankee stadium was absolutely one of the most spectacular places I'd ever visited. It was the highlight of my New York trip. I don't know baseball rules, and I clearly didn't understand a lot of what was going on, but being in that full stadium, and being a part of something so "American" still stands out as one of the best experiences of my life. I came home from that trip and told Mike if and when we ever visit New York with our children, we will attend a baseball game there.

I tried explaining my Yankee Stadium experience to the hoity-toity person all those years ago, but he was too busy asking me why in the world we hadn't visited The Metropolitan Museum of Art. I gave up and instead made a insincere commitment to visit the museum the next time I returned to New York City.

Over the past few years, Mike and I have found ourselves "in circles" we never thought we would be in. Namely, rodeos, county fairs, and 4-H meetings. Of course thrown in are a few harp performances, and Temple Square organ opportunities. (Not to mention a personal favorite--monster truck shows!) It is all such a dichotomy. Hauling a goat somewhere in the morning and a harp somewhere that evening was not something we'd have ever imagined doing.

Last week, Mike and I sat among a pretty diverse group of people as Luke showed Lily at the county fair. With the exception of making a mental note to wear shoes and socks next year, (I think I made that same mental note last year, but forgot.) I thoroughly enjoyed the experience. The next morning I took Luke up to the fairgrounds to feed Lily. The Steer Competitions were about to begin and the area was full of people brushing and washing their cows in preparation. As I walked through the stalls, with the sounds of cows all around, I suddenly recalled the conversation of The Metropolitan Museum of Art versus a baseball game at Yankee Stadium I had eight years ago.

They are both so full of culture, in their own way. I can't put into words the experience in the fairgrounds the other day, but I know it wasn't just my love of a good steak that was soaking up the "spirit" of the steer competitions.

The next night we attended a rodeo. As a cowboy riding a horse and holding the United States flag galloped around the arena to the sounds of a patriotic country song, there was no denying the feeling of love for one's country among the hundreds in attendance. Attending a rodeo is an experience in and of itself. One of my favorite events to attend. Luke and I were both bored last year when visiting the National Gallery of Art in Washington DC. I felt uncultured and even guilty for feeling that way at the time and couldn't help but contrast it with the fact I thoroughly enjoyed watching cowboys fall from bucking broncos and bulls last week.

But then...

I thought again of the Museum of Art and Yankee Stadium conversation.

Really.
What does it mean to attend a "cultural" event? I know as a fact it isn't just my hoity-toity friend from 8 years ago that think symphonies, operas and art museums are far superior to rodeos, county fairs and baseball games. There is so much rich culture and experience everywhere. I'm glad for my exposure to a genre of life I never thought I'd experience.

Soccer Mom was obviously never in the cards for me.
I'm proud to be a Cowboy Mom.

(I know this isn't a great photo-but oh those little boys of mine holding their hats while they put their hands on their hearts was touching.)

A Few Clarifications

I'm going to clarify a few things and answer a few questions....

**   Referring to the "being invisible" post I wrote last week, I must clarify my view of the excerpt. I never feel invisible as a mother on a day to day basis. Unfortunately (fortunately sometimes--depends on how you look at it), the second I enter a room everyone is usually scrambling for my attention. I can barely even shower or use the bathroom with no interruptions, let alone feel as though I was invisible in my own home. I'm not. What I gleaned from the article and what touched me the most, was the long-term efforts of a mother being invisible. As much as we help our children be aware of all we do for them on a regular basis, and help them understand the whys behind our discipline and teaching, there is so much of what we do that is "invisible." The cathedral analogy is what spoke to me. You know? All the behind the scenes part that no one really sees or knows about unless they were part of the building process. Slowly, methodically, and often painfully building a cathedral one 2 x 4, one molding, one stroke of paint at a time, hoping and praying that the end result really will be something of value and something to behold. 

I don't for one minute feel invisible as a mother, although I wish at times I were. And I still admit my secret  superpower wish would be to be invisible to hear your conversations. I know, a little creepy. But that's me. Not creepy though, just nosy.

**   As for our truck falling in a hole, I'm sorry I never clarified the damage to the truck. Really it was fairly minimal. We were able to drive it away, even though we had to turn the steering wheel 30 degrees to the left to go straight, and hold it straight to turn a corner. There was also a crooked bumper, and an un-openable tailgate, but nothing that can't be fixed. Oh--and for the record. Mike and I were laughing at the situation within minutes of it happening. It wasn't one of those things that "we'll have to wait and laugh about it one day." We could laugh pretty quickly. I mean, how could you not when you've had to call someone to say, "Can you help us out? We've fallen in a hole."

**  Oh, and the age old dilemma of "working mothers" and "stay at home mothers". I took offense recently when somebody said of me "Tiffany stays home all day. She has all the time in the world to do xyz." Perhaps it was my still-repairing-feelings that found this quote so appropriate.

Mother's are mothers. I'm tired of the "working" versus "stay at home" references that try to outdo each other as to who is busier, more important, better balanced, gets more breaks, or more worn out. It all comes down to choices with our time and choices with our money. That's all I'm going to say about that. As Mike says, "Don't you have other ways to spend your energy?" (Meaning instead of being fired up about stuff.)

And with "all my time in the world" staying home, I obviously don't have the time or take the time to teach my son good manners. But then again, obviously neither do my brother or sister-in-law.

(Drew and Cousin Annie)

Oh well! Surely there's more to life than good manners...

PS-Actually I wasn't home during this eating and photography session. So I take no responsibility for bad manners, and undressed children. Remember, I told you I had irresponsibly left Megan home with 6 children when Mike and I happened into a hole? Obviously I'm not excelling in teaching Megan everything.

Not the Dessert Part of Life

Lest anyone think everything is all peaches and cream around here. I will dispel that myth. As Mike said last night, "It's just life." I know that, but sometimes I wish it wasn't.

I don't like that on Monday we had to spend $550 to repair one car. Before we even picked it up from the shop, our other car broke down too. Mike declined to even tell me the repair cost for the other vehicle--I think he was worried about my mental ability to handle it. And there is no choice about fixing it--it's the only one all 649 of our children can fit in together.

While visiting the dentist yesterday with Megan, I was told that the previous visit with another child in which 4 cavities were filled was SIX days before the insurance waiting period and they denied paying it. Someone dropped the ball on the phone call I had made-but someone else's misunderstanding-and my lack of double checking is to the tune of $660.

On the heels of the last 12 months and for a landscaper in February, those are some pretty big costs.

I have a child who can not seem to find a group of friends that aren't back-stabbing and mean.

Not to mention the lack of working vehicles, a family to care for and other appointments and commitments has made me unavailable to support a dear friend in the throes of some serious life events. All I can do is stay home and text and pray.

I have another child who requires extra parent assigned homework each night to master a specific math concept.

I have another child who I am beginning to wonder maybe has emotional issues that prayers and love alone aren't solving--and perhaps it is time for professional intervention.

And then there are always far more personal goings-on and the not so personal goings-on that are just the everyday unpleasant stuff that aren't going to find their way into blogosphere.

It is no wonder that yesterday afternoon, while Mike had the two little boys for a few hours, instead of doing anything productive, I climbed into bed and read a book. By dinnertime when Mike returned, he threw off the blankets and told me I had to get out of bed. I told him I quite liked the idea of laying in bed depressed, but he insisted I do otherwise.

I got out of bed and was dropped off at a crowded restaurant to stand in line to pick up dinner. While there, a friend called to tell me her mother-in-law's death is imminent.

It isn't just me.
Life isn't easy for anyone.

Clearing a Few Things

I feel the need to clear a few things up that have come to my attention...

First of all--going back to the breastfeeding/family bed post--the private comments I received from people were all very encouraging, kind and complimentary. Most of them sharing their own disappointments and feelings of guilt to do with breastfeeding. I was reminded how important it really is to be very careful what we say to others--especially to new mothers. I didn't make myself clear, and someone queried if the comments I received were mean-they weren't.

Second--the article I wrote (HERE) about a food processor and a coat. After reading the article a few times after it was published, I was concerned that our dear friends came across as superficial and caring only about looks and clothes. So far, far from the truth! These friends are some of mine and Mike's very favorites. As different as we may be on outward appearances, we have spent many, many hours with these friends talking about stuff that really matters. (And plenty of time talking about stuff that doesn't!) I wish every married couple had such friends as neighbors.

Third--the homework article. Of course if you've read my blog for any length of time you know I have a pretty tongue-in-cheek style of writing. I'm often sarcastic in my attempt at humor. As much as I dislike homework, I can absolutely extol its merits. My children have mastered many concepts and subjects through homework. I still however maintain there is absolutely no reason EVER for elementary school children to have weekend and holiday homework. My children do music practicing, chores and other required "not fun things" on weekends. Homework is just not one of them.

Fourth--As I've mentioned more than once, I have a wonderful BFF. And she thinks the same about me! I loved her little tribute to me HERE. But as wonderful as she makes me sound, she is better because she watches my kids for no reason at all way more than I ever watch hers.

Fifth--Hank is not the father of Hazel's soon-to-be born babies. I know, I know, it is slightly scandalous that they live together. But remember, they are kind of married. Hank is actually having a separate shelter built as I speak. We (Luke and Mike) don't want him being mean to the new baby kids, whose births I am hoping not to assist with.

Think that is about it.

An Ironic Assignment

For years my BFF and I have had a re-occurring conversation about homework. Although we have differing opinions on a lot of subjects, we agree 100% on homework. We both think it should be abolished and banned from every school worldwide.

We complain to each other about worksheets, book reports, science fair projects and just about anything else that comes home in our children's backpacks.

So I found it very ironic when I took on an assignment to write an article titled, "Five tips for getting homework done without a fight."

Whhaaattt??

I couldn't bring myself to tell Melanie about my assignment, even though writing the article gave me a little added stress for a couple of weeks. Though typically a big cheerleader of my writing, I figured this one she would outright laugh at.

I really wish I had the nerve to send it to my daughter's second grade teacher, but I don't. (And please, nobody out there forward it to her!) Because really, I don't even think homework should be given to elementary school children AT ALL. Let alone on Fridays and holidays.

I strongly dislike homework. In fact, I'd even bring myself to use the "H" word on this one. I HATE homework--nonetheless it is probably here to stay.

And so I dedicate this article to my dear friend, Melanie.

Five tips for getting homework done without a fight...
(click on the link to read).

PS-If you're a teacher or a parent, please share with me your opinion on homework!

Uniqueness and Rudeness

I'd let the pictures tell the story, but
a. I'm not really a very good photographer and
b. I'm really not good at not saying anything.

But I promise to only say a little about...

The Cub Scout Pinewood Derby

I love Luke's individuality. I LOVE, LOVE, LOVE that Luke doesn't care a WHIT about whether or not he has a fast car. He wants something he loves. He wants something that depicts him. And so yes, for his third (and final!) Pinewood Derby "car" he made a truck. This time with a trailer no less. (The (toy) livestock in the back of the truck made it BARELY too heavy to race, so they stayed with me in the spectator section.)

You know, it's kind of funny. I had so much more I was going to say but have changed my mind because of this:

Mike went to the rec center tonight to do some lap swimming. He just barely returned and said to me,
 "I saw Bryan (my BFF's husband) as I came out of the locker room and before I think he even said 'hi' he said, "nice outfit." 
This grabbed my attention and as I looked up at my dear, handsome husband I saw he was wearing his swimsuit, a coat and cowboy boots.

And with that mental picture in your mind, you can better understand what a great quality my son has developed from his father. They don't care what other people think of them.

Who cares if some other Cub Scouts can't abide by the simple adage "If you can't say something nice, don't say anything at all."? I love Luke's individuality. I love that Luke is probably the least competitive person I have ever known (also inherited from Mike) even though the rude comments over and over from a couple of kids about his truck being slow and never winning any of the rounds put a slight damper on his evening. The confidence of individuality is well worth it.

(Luke's trailer carrying his Pinewood Derby "car" from two years ago that Drew claimed as his own.)

Glad we are finished with Pinewood Derbys for four years or so!
Wish I could say the same about all Boy Scout meetings.

Enough said.
Don't get me started.
The end.

Kindness Begins With ...

My kids and I have a random, impromptu tradition around here. Oftentimes in the morning before school we will sit in the front room waiting until it is time to leave for the bus, and I will play on the piano my favorite Primary (children's Sunday School) song, "Kindness begins with me."

"I want to be kind to everyone,

For that is right you see.

So I say to myself, remember this.

Kindness begins with me."

As we get to the last line of the song, I wave my arm dramatically in the air. (I know, I know I am a great multi-tasker--I can play the piano with one arm while waving my other arm in the air.) After waving dramatically for the last line, "Kindness begins with..." at the very last word I point at someone and we all say, their name. Of course I then obsessively think we need to sing it for every person in the room, so no one thinks they are excused from being kind that day. Except we never sing it with my name at the end...

Being kind to others is a HUGE repeated over and over lecture I give to my kids nearly every day. In fact that was one of the reasons we chose the word "LOVE" for our school year motto. You can read about that HERE.

Somewhere between lectures to my children, lessons in Family Home Evening and the one handwritten "L-O-V-E" sign on our fridge. Someone has forgotten to internalize the message herself.

I'm somewhat ashamed to admit that person is me.

Saturday morning I worked my regular Saturday morning shift at the Bountiful Temple. For over 7 years I have worked my shift alongside a lady who has become a dear friend. But this last Saturday I was alone. Without the distractions of chatting with someone, I had a lot of time alone to think. Being the very last day of 2011, and with the quietness around me, my thinking went a lot deeper than usual.

My thoughts immediately turned to an interaction I had just had moments before with someone that made me think, "I can't wait to tell Mike about this and of course Joni will die laughing when I tell her." (Joni being my friend who was absent for our shift.)

What?!?
Here I was at the temple of all places and I was in a sense inwardly mocking someone. And that my friends is what got my thinking deeper.

Sometimes I'm just not a nice person.
I allow myself to be irritated, annoyed, bugged and humored by people.

I work with a lot of people in a lot of different circumstances; school, temple, PTA, Power of Moms, church callings, blogging, neighborhood, business associations, family, friends, etc. In nearly every situation, I am again ashamed to admit I could come up with people that plain and simply annoy me.

There are family members I'd like to disown somedays.
There are Primary kids I occasionally wish I could smack.
There are women I don't feel like I can trust.
There are strangers I wish I could growl at.
There are neighbors who sometimes annoy me.
There are friends I at times want to kick in the rear.

And guess what!? I KNOW I am guilty of plenty of infractions of my own. But still, I have no excuse.

Too often I am rude, inpatient, judgmental, and plain unkind. Add to it that I'm a fairly HONEST person and rarely can I smile and "Pretend-I-like-you-and-want-to-be-with-you-when-really-I-DON'T!"

Something's gotta change.

And that my friends is the long drawn out thinking behind my simple New Year's Resolution. I'm not one to make big lofty goals in January. (Not sure what that says about me!?) In fact last year I simply decided to laugh more. Wait, that was the year before. Last year's was to relax more. (Yeah-didn't go so well did it?)

This year I would say my goal is to "Love MORE" but really, I think I just need to start with the basics and learn to "love". Hopefully the "more" part will come later.

Phewww-how's that for honesty? Wonder how many people I've offended wondering if they are the ones I haven't been loving much!?! Not to worry though. I'm going to be loving you all now!

Happy New Year!
Love...