Random post about Books and Families

I picked up a book at the DI.  It was a book I hadn't read since I was in first or second grade, but I remembered liking it so much I bought it so my kids could read it.
I don't know how many of you are familiar with The Boxcar Children, but it was a chapter book originally written back in 1924 for young readers.  There are actually over a hundred books under the Boxcar Children name, only 19 of which were written by the original author.  I never got into those subsequent books though, I didn't really care for them, all I cared for was the original.
So upon bringing the book home, I opened it up to be reminded of what it was like, and suddenly I was whisked back in time. I didn't realize how much this book affected and shaped my childhood play.  I ended up reading it from cover to cover over the last two days, not just because the story was so engrossing, but because the feelings and memories associated with it were so strong.

In a nutshell, it is about 4 orphaned siblings who run away and set up house in an abandoned rail car.  Their ages range from 14-6, the oldest and youngest being boys. 

I loved the idea of surviving simply upon one's resourcefulness and wits on the periphery of civilization yet beyond the conventions of modern society. And I'm afraid that being an orphan, or at least a runaway, was highly romanticized in my youth (nothing personal Mom). :)

Thinking back on some of my favorite books as a young person, I realize that this was a popular theme even as I grew older:

My Side of the Mountain, --NY runaway who lives in the forest

Island of the Blue Dolphins, --Orphan who lives on deserted island

The Cay, --shipwreck survivors who live on an island

Call it Courage, --storm tossed boy who is lost and left to survive on a island

Julie of the Wolves, -- Eskimo runaway who lives on the tundra

Wolves of Willoughby Chase --runaway orphans (although they don't do it all on their own, they have help.  I just liked the secret passageways in their house).

Hatchet --plane crash survivor

Just to name a few.*


I recall all sorts of games my younger sister and I played which involved us being somehow lost or orphaned and having to survive on our own.  Most often our yard became an island, with the wheat fields around us easily imagined as the vast expanse of ocean which we occasionally checked for ships. If my mother or any other member of the family showed up on our island, they were explained away as the native cannibals that inhabited the island --generally to be avoided-- and my cat, the ferocious man-eating tiger (which we eventually tamed and befriended because we were sick of running away screaming each time she came near).  On the other hand, if we were runaway orphans, my mother was either the evil headmistress, or the kind cook who smuggled us food unbeknownst to the evil Master of the house ...depending on the mood of the day.

My sister and I even went so far as to start writing our own book based on our pretend games. We were in 2nd and 3rd grade I believe, and the the basic premise of the story was that of two girls --the sole survivors of a plane crash, who washed up on a tropical island and had to survive on their own for an indeterminate time. The story is really laughable.

Ah yes, those were the good old days.

Anyway, back to this book which sparked so much reverie, The Boxcar Children.
I believe it was one of the first chapter books I ever read.  It is written simply and is easy for young readers to understand.  It glosses over any distressful things such as any details of how their parents died, and simply leaves out mundane details that kids might not think to ask but made me curious as I read, such as where do they go to the bathroom?  (Okay, so maybe kids these days would think of that, along with my immature self, but back in 1924 it wasn't something anybody talked about.) Barring the fact that the story is super simplified and everything works out so conveniently (it is a children's book after all), I was actually really impressed with the undercurrent of cheerfulness, selfless concern, maturity, and the skill and industry that the children exhibit.
They build a fireplace, and a makeshift refrigerator of sorts behind a waterfall, glean useful items from a nearby dump, even manufacturing their own tools and such out of bits and pieces of stuff they find there. The girls cook, sew, do laundry by hand, gather blueberries, and care for their younger brother as well as an injured stray dog. The oldest boy, exhibiting responsibility and independence, earns money by offering to do odd jobs at the home of an elderly Dr. as well as procuring leftovers from thinning the vegetable garden, some bent nails to be straightened and reused and an extra hammer he finds while organizing the garage which the old man is happy to give him. With his money he purchases milk and bread and ingredients for the girls to cook with. With the nails he builds a cart to haul rocks and together they build a dam across the stream to make a pool to bathe in.
The girls are motherly and skilled, the oldest boy is hard working and resourceful.  How many things in our popular culture today actually promote such ideals?  I'm coming up blank. I know this is only fiction, and in real life those kids would most likely have come to very unfortunate circumstances, but why stop promoting those kinds of attitudes?

Another book that I loved growing up was not on the list because the kids weren't necessarily on their own, and also because it's not really fiction, although it is written for kids, is that of the Laura Ingall's Wilder series.  Now there's a lesson in self-sufficiency and hard work.  Even within those stories, not everyone was cut out to make it on their own, but the whole series celebrates the freedom and independence and joy --yes joy of a job well done and living upon the fruits of one's labor and knowing how to provide and survive on the basic necessities of life.  In fact, the only antagonist, if you can call her that, I can think of is Nellie Oleson --the little girl in town who has everything and never has to work a day for any of it and who is so spoiled and mean that she really isn't very happy.
I'm afraid that the world today is filled with Nellie Olesons.

I mean, what happened? When did work become our enemy? When did comfort and ease become so important?  When did complaining cease to be considered ill-manners? In fact, what happened to manners at all? I mean, I know it wasn't all rosy, and that things weren't always ideal --I suppose I can be grateful that the "children should be seen and not heard" was left behind, although there are times when I wish I could apply it in my home... but honestly, sometimes I'd like to go back to the good old days, when hard work was the rule not the exception, people -even kids were empowered and taught how to survive and to rely on their own knowledge and industry rather than to wait for hand-outs from parents or the government.

I wouldn't give up modern medicine though, or transportation  ...or laundry machines...or flushing toilets...

Okay, so I'm not quite as idealistic as I sound, but at the very least, I can strive to foster these principles in my own home as much as possible.



Speaking of nurturing good principles through books, the annual Celebration of the Family Proclamation is going on right now through the 28th (you may have noticed the button in the side bar of my blog, see how I participated last year by clicking here).  Today's post was inspired by another great post about books for children that exemplify happy family relationships with a wonderful list of books that I think everyone should read.  (Probably more uplifting than my measly list of orphan and survivor stories, although you may notice my comment includes another book about an orphan). Anyway, check out all their other posts by clicking on the sidebar button and scrolling back through posts of the past week (there's been some really great ones), and following links to the other two blogs that are hosting this celebration. (When it's over I'll try to have a link to the main index page that lists all the posts and articles of past years --they're really all so great.)

Anyway, those are my random thoughts for the day.  Kinda random for being MIA for a few weeks I know, but hey it's better than nothing right?



(*Disclaimer: depending on your views, some of the books I listed are more appropriate for older children because the serious nature of surviving on one's own could be distressing to young children, and some parts could be a bit graphic.  Reviewing this list and googling certain titles, I am actually surprised at how many of them had been pulled from the shelves of libraries at one time or another, and equally surprised at what age I remember reading them.  Kids are so sheltered these days when it comes to human suffering, yet so exposed when it comes to sinful behavior.)

Keeping it Real

So I've had a lot of thoughts running around in my head lately.  One of which was that I should blog about something... but what?  I haven't done anything grand lately, I haven't even had any earth-shakingly inspiring thoughts lately, and for some reason I had it in my mind that I shouldn't post unless I had something cool to show or to say. Then I realized how ridiculous that is, and that got me thinking.

A few Sundays ago in our R.S. meeting, the teacher started out her lesson with a discussion about perfectionism vs. striving for perfection.  I am somewhat acquainted with perfectionism, and have seen first-hand how it can negatively affect a person as well as those around them.  The Merriam Webster Dictionary defines perfectionism as "a disposition to regard anything short of perfection as unacceptable; especially :the setting of unrealistically demanding goals accompanied by a disposition to regard failure to achieve them as unacceptable and a sign of personal worthlessness." On the other hand, in his talk to the women of the Church (of course it was to the women, because we all need this so badly) President Uchtdorf stated, "Everyone has strengths and weaknesses. It’s wonderful that you have strengths. And it is part of your mortal experience that you do have weaknesses. God wants to help us to eventually turn all of our weaknesses into strengths, but He knows that this is a long-term goal. He wants us to become perfect, and if we stay on the path of discipleship, one day we will. It’s OK that you’re not quite there yet. Keep working on it, and stop punishing yourself."

Wise words.

When you contrast the definition of perfectionism with President Uchtdorf's words --which is pretty much what the Church is really all about: striving for perfection-- it is obvious how the adversary has twisted an originally good thing, and the erroneous and irrational thinking of perfectionism couldn't be more plain. I also believe that feeling that anything or anyone is worthless is not very Christlike.

A while ago, as I was doing some self-evaluation and wondering if a mid-course correction was in order (which it was, but that's a subject for another day) I came across this little jewel.  It's an interview with a person whom I greatly admire, and who also happens to be the former President of the Relief Society.  She talks about what she does with her free time, and answers a few questions about leisure activities in general ...including blogging.  Coming from a church leader in a religion that encourages constantly being "anxiously engaged in a good cause"(D&C 58:27) I was very interested in what she had to say.  If you have a half hour, listen to the whole thing, if you only have a few minutes, click here and here to hear what she says about blogging specifically.
Basically, it made me start thinking more seriously about what I put on my blog, along with how much time I take to write posts as well as browse the internet and other blogs I like to follow.

I've decided that blogging for me, is a two edged sword.  I do like reading uplifting blogs that give me great ideas and encourage me as a mother.  I like writing and getting things out of my head, feeling a little more connected to the outside world and possibly having something to contribute.  However, sometimes I can tell its not good for me, especially when I go overboard and use it as an escape from unpleasant tasks at hand (like dishes and laundry).  Despite my tendency to avoid housework, I find that it's not just the time it takes, but the toll it takes on my self-esteem and my own sense of well being --because when it comes to blogging and reading other people's blogs (or pinterest --which I'm actually not subscribed to but I check out once in a while, and if I were on facebook, which I'm not, it would also be on this list) I often find myself consumed with both the desire to be everything, and do everything I see, as well feeling very discouraged about who I am and how little I am usually able to actually accomplish along with everything I have to do on a day-to-day basis (basically comparing my worsts to their bests).  When I feel this happening I have to stop and remind myself to be realistic. (Personally, I like to think horrid things about what's not shown in those oh-so-perfect pictures to make myself feel better. I'm not condoning that of course... *ahem*)

Anyway, it got me to thinking about how my blog might come across to others, and if I in any way could possibly be making anyone else out there feel bad about themselves. Now, I flatter myself here by assuming that anyone would be impressed by anything on my little blog --but perhaps I could set a precedent for all bloggers and pinterest-ers out there anyway.

I confess that my childhood, while teaching me many things about the value of hard work and doing things right, also left me with a need to keep up appearances.  I'm sure that wasn't what my parents were trying to teach me when we'd run around frantically cleaning the house if word came that guests were to arrive soon, but you can see how I might have got that impression.  When I do that, my husband may roll his eyes, but kindly humors me, probably thankful for whatever motivation can get me to finally clean the house.  So it's no surprise that sometimes when I take a picture for my blog, I discreetly shove things out of the way first so that my house appears to have some semblance of order.  I don't mean to be dishonest, but who wants to see my dirty laundry?  Besides, if I'm really striving for the ideal can't I pretend I've reached it once in a while?  There's nothing wrong with that, right?  Of course my ideal is a home free of clutter and where my kids pick up after themselves, the dishes are always done immediately after meals, and my counters and floors are spotless, etc. etc. etc...  yeah, okay so I realize it's a bit unrealistic. However I still cling to the hopes that it could be possible. When company comes --through nothing less than super-heroic efforts-- I can usually make the impossible happen (for at least a day or two), thus reinforcing that belief that the ideal can actually exist.  Even my mother (no offense mom) believed it was possible, and yet in 30 years I have never seen it realized for an extended period of time. I know there are people out there who really do know how to make it happen, but so far I haven't learned the secret.

Is it hopeless then?  Well, I don't know that letting go of my hopes and giving up would help anything, (well maybe a bit less anxiety perhaps), and I still think that my (however irrational) need to clean the house before company comes is a good, hospitable, thing to do... And honestly if I can't muster the intrinsic motivation to reach my goals I might as well make the most of whatever bit of pride gives me some extrinsic motivation to get things done.

Although I never thought that it could do any good to see the mess behind the scenes, I've decided I need to be more honest so that nobody else out there is trying to hold themselves up to a fake standard and feeling bad that they can't achieve it day in and day out.

The proverbial straw that broke the camel's back was a blog post I read recently about this very issue. Of course, she has put it much more eloquently than I ever could, and on top of that she is a great example of keeping it real herself, but in hopeful and inspiring ways.

Anyway, all of this put together has inspired me to do something about it.  So here goes.  In case you ever thought I "had it all together" this is the view from where I ate lunch the other day.

Yikes.

Wouldn't this make a great still life? No, it wouldn't, and that's the point.  You see, whoever came up with that oxymoron had a great sense of humor.  Life. is. never. still.  But this is what happens if mom sits still for too long.

I don't think it gets much worse than this.

I'd like to say I just had a bad week (which I did, and that's not uncommon),  but honestly, I think those prints have been there for a month or two.

It's comforting to know that if I died, the baby could probably survive for a few days from what's on the floor. Maybe that's why he puts it there.

Now don't think that just because the cat's out of the bag I'm not going to shove stuff out of the pictures from here on out, but I give you this brief glimpse in an effort to make you all feel better about yourselves, and to help me be more humble.

It's all about context. Right now, at this stage of my life with small children underfoot making every surface sticky, bringing in pocket-loads of sand and dirt, losing toys and hiding "treasures" in the weirdest places, I cannot expect to have an immaculate house. If I tried, I would be a terrible mother and wife.  I do believe that a clean home invites the Spirit, but I also know that when I let a clean home come become more important than my kids the spirit of our home is not a good one.  It's an everyday balancing act. An exhausting one at that.  All I can do is do my best.

Actually, scratch that last sentence.

I am personally not a fan of the phrase, "just do your best."  I never promise to "do my best" because for me, that invites perfectionism.  If I always did my "best" I would literally go crazy. I know what I am capable of and if I held myself to that standard in even one or two things in my life, everything would slip out of balance and I would fail miserably. So, as a personal safeguard, I'll only ever commit to "do what I can." And on those days when what I can do isn't as much as what someone else can appear to do, or even what I was able to do yesterday or last week, or when I was 20, I won't hate myself for it, but I'll keep working to improve just a little bit in every area of my own life and keep moving forward toward that "long-term goal" of perfection. That is really all that is required of us.

Also a word about guilt.  Do I feel guilty for having a house like that (or for how much time I've spent writing this post)?  You bet I do.  I'm not throwing guilt out the window and embracing my messiness or bad habits or anything like that. There is a purpose and a place for guilt --to prod us to action and change.  But if it makes us feel like less of a person, makes us too ashamed to interact positively with other people, discourages us beyond being able to function, makes us think we are unworthy to blog or even worse, unworthy to pray, etc., then it is a tool of the Devil.

So while perusing the internet, and especially during the holiday season, where there is so much around us telling us to do this or that, or even to do less of this or less of that, don't feel guilty about what you do or don't do. Don't compare yourself to others at all (easier said than done, I know). Let's just give it our all, leaving perfection for the long term, and focus on what's truly important for us at whatever point we are in our lives.

And finally, let's give each other a break by keeping it real.

(Although I am adding this much later, here is another great post I found about this very same thing. Everyone should read it.)

The Pit

In a Religion class I took 10 years ago at BYU-Idaho, we were given an assignment to write a parable. As I brainstormed topics to write about, I came across one of my doodles (that was my idea of taking notes at one point), and this became the inspiration of my parable.

I felt like sharing it today because... one: I think it is pretty good (if I do say so myself), and two: I was reminded of it during the recent General Relief Society broadcast when Sister Linda K. Burton told a similar analogy.  (I just discovered that her analogy was taken from a primary lesson manual, and although I feel that my parable was completely of my own creation, it makes me wonder if it might be a sign that I actually was listening in primary and that those things really do stick.) 
So here it is.  (The numbers are the verses --it was supposed to be written like the scriptures, in case you were wondering.)

The Parable of the Pit

1. In a certain city there was a pit.

2. The breadth thereof was exceedingly large and exceedingly deep and dirty.

3. There happened upon the pit two youths who, not knowing the dangers of the pit and the slipperiness of the sides, did venture too close to the mouth of the pit to peer in and they did fall into the depths thereof.

4. A certain stranger traveling by, hearing their cries, approached the pit.

5. The youths cried unto him saying; Thou who standest on higher ground, wilt thou have mercy on us and rescue us?

6. And the stranger answered and said; Nay, for I see that the pit is exceedingly dirty and I desirest not to be soiled as thou art. And he went his way.

7. Another stranger passing by and hearing the cries of the youths approached the pit.

8. They cried unto him saying; Thou who standest on higher ground, wilt thou have mercy on us and rescue us?

9. Looking into the pit, the stranger answered and said unto them; Nay, for I do not have the means wherewith to pull you out. And he went his way.

10. And the youths were exceeding sorrowful.

11. Yet two strangers traveling together passing by heard the cries of the youths down in the pit and approached.

12. The youths cried unto them saying; Thou who standest on higher ground, wilt thou have mercy on us and rescue us?

13. And the one stranger, straightway lowered his rod into the pit in order to draw them out, but alas, it was lacking in length.

14. The second stranger, seeing the deficiency of the rod, straightway jumped into the pit and built for the youths a ladder that they may all reach the rod and be lifted out of the pit.

15. And when they had done this, the youths rejoiced saying; Blessed be thy name forever, for thou art our saviors, and have shown great mercy upon us for we should have surely perished in the pit!

16. And thus they did cry all the days of their lives.

Translation:

            The youths represent people, who in their ignorance and curiosity, fall into the pit of sin –perhaps bound for the very depths of hell.

             The strangers represent members of the Church.  They stand on higher ground, meaning they uphold their standards and keep the commandments, yet perhaps they are traveling in different directions.

            The first stranger is one who, in his pride, refuses to help those in trouble because he is afraid that it may adversely affect his own standing. He, like a Pharisee, is afraid of associating with anything considered “unclean.” One may wonder which direction he travels when it says, “And he went his way.”

            The second stranger, though he stands on higher ground and looks into the pit wanting to help, is lacking in the resources –perhaps the knowledge, the willingness, and the strength –whereby to pull them out.

            The last two strangers are a representation of our companionship with Christ. He is the one who was willing to descend below it all.  He prepared the way, building the steps of repentance whereby all mankind may be saved through His atoning sacrifice.

            Notice that the ladder is built to be used at the will of the youths. It is by their own strength and choice that they ascend the steps.

            The rod, as in other scriptures, is the Word of God. It is extended to all people and should be kept close at hand by faithful members.

            We, like the unfortunate youths, are all subject to the pits of mortal life and are in constant need of the saving and enabling powers of the atonement. Let us rejoice and praise God continually for his mercy, and let us proclaim these happy tidings all of our days.

It's amazing to me to see how smart I once was, even at 20.  It's not a perfect analogy, but I got an A.
Hope you enjoyed it.

Mottled Chameleon

So, I'm having a bit of a blog-identity crisis.

I don't feel that I've kept with the original purpose of this blog, and so when I sit down to write I start feeling all sorts of anxieties and things that try influencing what I post or how it will come out.  Some of it has to do with other blogs I read and how they rub off on me, some of it has to do with what I think other people expect of me, some of it has to do what I expect of myself, and some of it has to do with how I'm feeling in general.

Maybe it's my own identity crisis.

I remember a saying on the wall of a high school English class, right next to the plaque that read "Eschew Obfuscation," but that's beside the point. This other wall hanging read:

I AM

WHAT I THINK

OTHERS THINK

I AM

I don't know who first said this, but it has plagued me for years because I often feel that I fit this description perfectly.  I say plagued, because whenever I fall victim to other people's opinions of me (good or bad), whenever I feel like I am just playing a part to fit in or to keep up appearances, or whenever I listen to the voices inside my head that tell me I have no personality of my own, no original ideas, and that I am just a sad imitation of those whom I admire... this saying comes to mind.

I mean, have you ever had someone ask you if you're feeling sick, or if you've been crying, and suddenly you really do feel sick, or your eyes start welling up even though you're not sad in the least?  It's like being a victim of the force. Please tell me I'm not the only one this happens to.   

To explain this phenomena, aside from the inference that I'm a mindless twit that can be easily swayed by the merest suggestion, when someone asks me if I've been crying --which I rarely do, (okay, rarely did before I had three pregnancies) I suddenly start wracking my brain to think of reasons they would think this and feel sorry for myself, or else I start think of reasons I might have to cry (whether real or imagined) and that inevitably makes get teary-eyed, or sometimes I'm simply touched that someone would go out of their way to ask me something personal, so I start crying. Makes sense right?  

Don't answer that.

So on my mission, soon after arriving in the country and meeting my Mission
President for the first time, he interviewed me to get to know me a bit and assigned me a companion (probably not on the spot, I'm sure he had decided previously and was just seeking confirmation). I don't know what my MTC teachers had told him about me, and I do believe he was working on inspiration for the most part, but in the course of our conversation he labeled me as "bold" and told me that he was putting me with a sister who was meek and timid and could use someone to help her be more bold.

Me?  Bold?!

Now, I may have been outspoken and tactless at times, and perhaps even a little stubborn, but that does not equal bold.  I was anything but bold, especially when it came to sharing the Gospel --which honestly terrified me --especially in a foreign language!
But, bold he thought I was, and so bold I became.  Not always in the best ways mind you --I think I bowled her over and nearly drove her insane.  Poor sweet sister.  She didn't know what to do with me.  I told the elders off, I repeated offensive phrases I had learned to old men who hit on me, and I flatly refused to make phone calls until I could understand what the person was saying on the other end.  Yeah, I was that kind of trainee.
On the other hand, when paired with a companion who the President mentioned was "another red-head" (in the stereotypical sense of the word) and that he thought it might prove interesting (although I didn't consider myself a red-head --maybe auburn or chestnut, but not red), I found that my brand of "boldness" to be useful in not letting her push me around, keeping her out of trouble with the elders (yeah, she was that kind of sister), plus it motivated me to learn the language better so she couldn't do all the talking ...er, I mean, so I could explain what she was really trying to say.   I was paired with her three separate times on my mission, and I truly believe that if I hadn't been my "bold" self, she wouldn't have finished out her mission.
Despite my inner conviction that I wasn't bold, just stubborn, I did however come to recognize how the Mission President's view of me hadn't been so far off after all. Less than half way into my mission, a new companion and I met with a girl we had only taught once before (actually another companion taught her while I took care of a drunk guy in the lobby but that's a whole other story). She had come to see a baptism of another investigator, and afterwards we had our second discussion. Things were going so well, and as I bore my testimony I felt inspired to invite her to be baptized.  She said "yes" and we set a date and she was baptized four weeks later. She was what we call "golden." I didn't think much of it, since it happened so naturally, but later after my mission I learned that an elder who was present at that meeting had written to my parents to say how impressed he was with my boldness.  And it hit me.  Either my mission president had been right all along, or I became that way because that's what was expected of me.  Either way, that's who I was.

Sorry, where was I going with this?  Oh yeah.

I remember writing in my mission journal how much I felt I changed with each companion.  Some were meek, so I was loud, some were pushy, so I was stubborn, some were cool, so I was nerdy, others were nerdy, and well, I was still nerdy. Some were shy so I took charge, some were beautiful and I the ugly duckling, some were troubled and I was calm, some were old and well... okay so I couldn't blame being young on my personality fluctuations, but perhaps my own immaturity was more apparent, I don't know.  I wondered to myself if choosing an eternal companion would be essentially choosing my eternal identity.  There was hardly any consistency to the roles I played, although looking at this list, it may seem that mostly I was just contrary, and perhaps I was but not in the negative sense of the word.  Still, I felt a little lost as to who I really was.  I couldn't so easily label myself one particular thing as others could.  Was I being insincere or dishonest?  Was I not being real or authentic?  I don't believe so.
Then I realized, that that is who I am.  I am the person people need me to be!  I am the friendly one when someone needs a friend, I am the creative one when others are out of ideas, I am the calm one when others are worried, I am the bold one when others are timid.
It's true that I wasn't always my best self, and my fluctuations included times of low self-esteem, but doesn't that happen to everyone?
I'm not always just the opposite of others either (--although I try to avoid the awkwardness or competition associated with being too similar or taking on the same roles).  In high school I fit in with many different people.  I was on the soccer team, and hung out with the sporty types, I was in band and choir and drama, I was a photographer on the yearbook staff, participated in the Russian club and loved AP Chemistry. My best friends were sterling scholars, art royalty, and and student body officers. Overall, my friends were intelligent, kind, hard working and fun.  I hung out with them because I admired them, I appreciated them, I hoped I was like them.  And to some extent I was.  However, at graduation the truth came out.  So many of my friends were surprised to discover that I didn't graduate with honors or high honors.  I even had one well meaning friend comment, "you forgot your cords," and although I was flattered, it kinda stung as I had to explain.  I believe that I was just as intelligent as them, but intelligence doesn't matter much if you're secretly lazy.  It made me resent my diploma in the end. Still, I was grateful for my ability to connect with many different kinds of people, and although I never stood out in any way, no one ever felt threatened by me and I was never the target of any unkindness. It suited me well.

When I got to college, I did well, but I was indecisive about majors.  The voices in my head said it was because I didn't know who I was, or because I wasn't good enough at any one thing to succeed.  It made me feel inferior to people who seemed to have direction and purpose and knew exactly what they wanted to do.  It made me feel like I had no "personality" when I had to explain that I was just a General Education major (...and we all know that girls majoring in General Ed at any Church school are just planning on getting their MRS degree right?).  I felt like if I could at least say I majored in Liberal Arts, it would sound better, but they didn't technically have that major at BYU-I by name.  The real problem was that I had too many interests, and I felt if I chose one, that meant leaving all the others behind.  I went from major to major; Music, English, Psychology, Biology, Education, with minors in P.E., Art, Photography, Child Development, etc.  I even considered transferring to BYU-Provo and majoring in Geneology... but then I met my husband, got married, and soon my credit limit was up (for those of you who don't know, Church schools are too in demand to let you stay around very long, so once you reach a certain number of credits you have to petition to stay, graduate, or move on), so I graduated in "University Studies."  Could that be any more ambiguous?

Over the years though, I've come to realize that however directionless my academic record may seem, however little qualified it makes me for any specific career, I feel that nothing could have prepared me better for my present occupation as a mother and homemaker.

So I guess my point is this.  That who you are is who you are. Whether outside influences affect how you act, and regardless of what people think of you or expect from you, you're still you.  Is a chameleon not a chameleon just because it changes its color?  No.  And it doesn't mean that a mottled one is confused or being dishonest or unauthentic either.  It's just doing it's thing.

Okay so that was a long tangent to get to where I was going.  Hope I didn't obfuscate too much :).

I was talking about the identity of my blog.

So what if my blog is sometimes a travelogue? So what if it sometimes resembles a craft or cooking blog but isn't really?  Who cares if sometimes I am poignant, and other times sarcastic? What does it matter if sometimes I have beautiful pictures I took myself and sometimes pirated images from google?  Will people be bored if I write about myself, my life, my kids?  Will they stop reading if I quote scripture or share my opinions about controversial topics? Do I care if I am shunned from blogging groups because my blog can't fit neatly into any specific category? Is it a problem that I love comments but write it more for myself than anyone else?  Does it mean my blog is lame if I never have any more than 4 followers?

I think not.

It may not be what anyone expects, but this blog is mine, and it is what it is.

I guess I've overcome my blog identity-crisis.

I really should start blogging more, and think less about what others think.

10 Reasons I'm not on Facebook.

Face-book, get it?*  

...In no particular order.

#1.  I've never been one conform.  Yes, I'm just a natural rebel.  Just because everyone else is doing it doesn't mean I'm going to. In fact it probably means I'm not going to (--case in point).

#2.  I don't want to see how many friends I don't have. I don't think my self-esteem could handle it. Okay not really, you see, I'm the close-friend or no friend kind, and close friends keep in touch in other, more personal, ways. yeah... not to mention I don't like people who obviously do link their self-esteem to the number of friends they have on facebook and try to get as many as they possibly can --like that girl I may have had a class with way back in high school but never even talked to, who somehow got her hands on the email list for the class reunion coming up and tried inviting everyone to be her FB friend... it's meaningless.  I also hate making those difficult decisions of who is and isn't technically a "friend."  I mean, if you have a few friends in your school/ward/work/neighborhood/etc. don't you have to "friend" everyone so nobody thinks you hate them? Where does it stop? Ugh.  I'll pass.

#3.  I find it way too voyeuristic.  I feel super guilty when I look at someone's profile, leaf through their picture albums, and check out their friends to see if we still have any in common, all because I'm curious where they ended up, but then I leave no trace that I was even there and never leave a comment.  What a scuzzy thing to do!  And how many scuzzbuckets could do the same thing to me?  (I know, I know, I just need to figure out how to use the privacy settings... I've heard that already.  It's just not worth the effort.) I also have learned things about old friends that I wish I didn't know. Rather than un-friending them, I just decided to un-Facebook myself.

#4.  I find it way too narcissistic.  It's all just a parade.  "Hey look at me! Look at how funny and witty and clever I can be! Look at how hot I can look with just the right picture that may or may not be photoshopped! I know that everyone wants to know exactly what I'm thinking/eating/reading/doing/etc... every minute of the day..."  I don't have any such illusions about my blog of course. :)
I really do try to keep it real.  Sometimes real is boring (--case in point).

#5.  I don't get it!  Not only is the Facebook interface super un-intuitive, but what's with the poking?  I don't like getting poked in real life, why would I care to get virtual-poked?  Is it a positive or a negative thing anyway?

#6. I don't trust any of those third party apps or whatever, you know like the quizzes and things that make you have to sign away your life and all rights to the privacy of anyone in your contacts before you can see what other people answered and such.  The whole "so-and-so answered a question about you, see what they have to say..." is totally playing on some sort of human weakness, and I won't fall for it!

#7.  It doesn't feel very sincere if people only remember my birthday because Facebook had to remind them. Or vice versa-- I'd hate people to think that that's the only reason I remembered, even if it is.

#8.  I don't have time for it.  Seriously, once I get started, I can't stop. It's like getting sucked into a whirlpool.  I have way more important things to do with my time, and I don't need one more time waster.  I'm sorry Facebook, it's me not you.  I just don't have the self-control to handle you.

#9. I inherently dislike it upon principle because of the risk it poses to so many young people who are stupid and make it way too easy for stalkers by "friending" everyone they've ever met and then posting exactly where they're going to be at any given time... duh.  And then there's the risk it poses to marriages when old flames are rekindled, and people of the opposite sex are interacting so much outside of their marriages... I can imagine how the old "grass is greener" paradox could affect a person who finds themselves in a struggling marriage.  Not good.

#10.  Personally I think it's all going to blow up someday.  The owners are going to sell it or it's going to be hacked and everyone's personal information is going to be out there for anyone to misuse.  Either that or (if it's not already) it's going to be secretly used by the government to spy on people (I'm not paranoid...), or used by the advertising industry in a Minority Report-ish fashion, and basically be used to control the general thinking and attitudes of the whole world, making them sway to the tune of the highest bidder. All "Users" will someday become "Useds" and I will laugh sardonically --while simultaneously feeling sorry for everyone of course.


Now, I'm not judging anyone who has a FB account, I'm simply sharing my reasons for not joining. I don't mind that my husband has an account (except that he refuses to "friend my friends," does that make me a hypocrite?).  Actually, I had an account once. I joined once and then un-joined (see #3), and then joined again under violent torture pressure exerted by those whom I call my best friends... and then only "friended" them and refused to comment anywhere but on our secret group... under an alias.  But that doesn't really count.
I admit, I may get back on Facebook someday.  I'd like to get in touch with people from Poland, and perhaps even a few old friends and roommates whom I, regretfully, lost touch with, but until then I'm going to go on blissfully unaware of the random thoughts, deeds, and game scores of my friends and family, as well as miss out on the entertaining memes, clever gifs, inspirational articles, cool pictures, and important news, but at least I won't have to sort through all the dull updates, weird invitations, uninspirational gossip, and political leanings of every person I can't say is not a friend.  :)

So there you have it.

Oh, and here's an entertaining song about Facebook I thought you might like.

I will however say this; that social media and modern technology is going to be how the world sees the second coming all at the same time, so maybe I should get on the bandwagon after all.


(*This image was used without permission from google images.  I am a pirate.  Arrrrr!)
 

Sigh...

So, I admit I have been putting off blogging because I felt like I needed to do a long post about all that's been going on since I last blogged, and all the wonderful things we did, both significant and insignificant, before we moved back to Idaho, like...

swimming at our favorite pool about once every week,

picking up trash along the highway for a earth-friendly family home evening activity,

 going to the rodeo,

taking apart a broken etch-a-sketch to see what was inside,

celebrating the baby's first birthday complete with outdoor "hot tubs" 

 and water balloons

 as well as the traditional pancake breakfast and Jell-o birthday "cake,"

 going to the county fair 

and narrowly missing a downpour,

going on a picnic and wading in the shallow String lake in Teton National Park with friends and family,

(even the baby enjoyed the water, it's relatively warm)

picking wild huckleberries,

(They're gonna make the best homemade ice cream!)

going to Bear World with Grandma and Grandpa

where the kids got to feed and pet animals at the petting zoo

(accruing quite the collection of feathers from various fowl)

as well as ride kiddie rides,

(Grandma taught us the trick of following the feeding tour truck to see all the bears in action!) 

helping cut a big branch out of a large tree at grandma and grandpa's house 

(okay, so that was mostly my husband, but I gave great moral support from below),

roasting hotdogs over a campfire

Mmmm...

along with strawberry-and-nutella s'mores, 

Double Mmmm!

riding the ski lifts to the top of the mountain, 

going down an alpine slide,

finding a snake on my doorstep,

driving to a beautiful waterfall to try and take family pictures

then picnicking in a familiar camping spot,

and countless days spent playing at the parks --the ones with streams that the kids just had to get into,

(the crystal clear kind which were much too tempting even though they were ice cold!)

and ones with climbing walls (my oldest became quite the expert), others with ponds, or big hills,

or crazy toys... 

...not to mention all the wood chips you can eat!

They have it all there.

*Sigh*

I'm afraid life is a bit dull now, and I'm actually thinking it wouldn't be too bad moving back there again for one last Summer...  Am I insane or what?

I call it the "Lucky Charms Effect." (Or Marshmallow Mateys if you're more frugal like me, but that doesn't have the same ring to it).

I generally don't like Lucky Charms, but if I have to eat them (as in there's nothing better in the house and I need something, anything, sweet) I like to eat all the brown parts first, so that one-- there's no soggy brown parts, cause that's the worst, and two-- so I get a whole bowl of nothing but marshmallows at the end!  Awesome! (Yes, I know, I'm 30 years old... So?)

I also like to wash it down with some fresh cold milk at the end, not that warm sugary stuff that's left --it's just one of those things that delights me... Like the little tiny soap bubbles that sometimes puff out of my dish soap bottle and make me smile...

Anyway, even though I don't generally like Lucky Charms, after finishing off a whole bowl of just marshmallows and washing it down with fresh cold milk, suddenly I want another bowl of Lucky Charms.  I think that by ending on such a good note, I forget about having to choke down all the brown stuff and only remember how good the marshmallows and milk were.  My memory can sometimes be selective in that way --I guess it could be worse, I could focus on all the bad stuff, and sometimes I do, but either way, I still end up eating like three bowls of Lucky Charms!

Living in Jackson, and absolutely packing the last few weeks with all sorts of fun and exciting things makes me forget how stinkin' cold it is when I first move there, and how small the apartment is, and how expensive groceries are, and what a pain moving is in general --because moving from Jackson actually isn't that bad. After all, it's only a one bedroom apartment, and more than half our stuff is already boxed and in storage (-not to mention that the last two times I hardly had to do any cleaning myself) so I start thinking "that wasn't too bad, I can do that again" --and in the Spring I curse myself all the way.

This "Lucky Charms Effect" comes into play in a few areas of my life --like every time I decide to invite people over for dinner, or agree to do a babysitting swap (FYI -it's better to let the other couple go on their date first I think, so you have something to keep you from kil ...er, to look forward to).
(I am joking Sandi, we're still on for next week right?)

Even bottling fruit has a bit of a forgetfulness that comes with time.  I love bottled fruit, I love how it looks on my shelves, and the feeling of satisfaction I get when I look at all those gleaming bottles, and I  completely forget how tedious and time consuming it is and how horribly messy and sticky it makes my whole kitchen... *thinking of the several boxes of ripe peaches and tomatoes in the garage, ugh.*

I suppose the "Lucky Charms Effect" has its purpose. I probably do more stuff than I would if I really thought about it first. In fact, it's probably the reason I keep getting pregnant and having babies (they're just so darn cute!). But mostly it just gets me into situations where I want to pull my hair and cry out, "What was I thinking?!" or, "Why do I do this to myself?!"

Perhaps it is all worth it. I guess nothing good comes without a price.  Looking at this list makes me think that it really was worth it.
(I'm still going to petition for bigger accommodations next Summer though.)

Anyway, I'm sure I'm not the only one.

What is your memory selective about and what do you find yourself doing over and over again despite your best judgement and the hardships involved?

Stuff

You know, stuff happens. 

It may be of our own causing, it may be someone else's fault.  Sometimes it's not anyone's fault at all.

With the very best of intentions, we try to fix it --attempting to put things right;  

yet often, despite our greatest efforts, the results are just not good enough.

C'mon though, we're all just doing the best we know how.  

Let's give each other a break.

What dreams may come...

When you have a dream about someone, do you tell them?

Is that weird?

I've had a lot of dreams recently about meeting people who's blogs I follow.  I've never met most of them in real life, and in my dreams I act so silly, like I'm meeting a really famous celebrity or something.  I feel so insignificant, as if I'm bothering them, or they're doing me a great favor to even talk to me.

I don't think that is how it really is.  Maybe they're just as needy for the small validation that comes from simple comments and views as I am.

Maybe I shouldn't compare myself to what other people put on their blogs either --it's not like everyone is going to hang out their dirty laundry for the whole world to see (--although, I generally stick to people who keep it real).

So why do I feel so inadequate in my dreams?

Maybe it has to do with the fact that I am often wearing nothing but my undergarments.

S.A.N.T.A.

So, does anyone else have a problem lying to their children about the whole Santa thing?

I mean, I love the innocence of youth that allows for kids to believe in something magical, and obviously I believed in Santa as a kid and turned out okay...I think.  Actually by the time I was told the truth, I wasn't too surprised, although I could imagine some kids being heartbroken and feeling completely betrayed...

Seriously though, why do we do it anyway? Does it really convince kids to be good, or change their behavior to tell them that if they're naughty they're not getting anything for Christmas?  Um, yeah right.


Gee, all those poor kids sure must've been naughty... 


Now, I'm not saying that anyone who teaches their kids about Santa is wrong, but I am having a personal dilemma with it.  I have to admit that not only am I a horrible liar --no pokerface whatsoever -- but I feel super guilty and weird telling my kids about a strange bearded man in a fuzzy red jumpsuit who somehow comes down the chimney to give them toys...for whatever reason (obviously not for being complete angels though).  Honestly, the first time I tried telling them I think they were more alarmed than anything.  At least we have a chimney this time so I don't have to field those kind of questions.  I couldn't bring myself to even approach the whole reindeer thing though.

I suppose there's something to be said for tradition, and it just being a part of childhood, but still... I don't need one more thing to undermine my credibility with my kids.

Remember how Mom lied to us about that whole Santa/Easter Bunny/Tooth Fairy thing?  Maybe she was lying about the whole God thing (or drugs/alcohol thing) too...


Yikes!!

Okay, so maybe I'm blowing it our of proportion, and honestly, I'll most likely keep on telling my kids about Santa et al.  However, I'm still going to try to be careful not to get too into it, or try super hard to convince them of anything.  And when they do figure it out, I'll make sure to let them know not to go blabbing it to all their friends and ruin the "fun" (since lying is fun you know).

So far, I've only told them that Santa is a really nice guy who gives presents to everybody because that is what Jesus would do if He were here.  They already know that Christmas is Jesus's Birthday, and since we can't give presents to Him we give them to other people, because when we do things to other people it's like doing things to Him.

Oh yeah, and when we go to Grandma's house for the holidays, we will be sure to tell Santa that we're going to be there so he can find us --the kids were worried.

I'm such a liar.

I think I'll end with a few of my silly attempts at an acronym for Santa. Pick your favorite.

S.A.N.T.A. 

Sweets
And
Nice
Toys for
All

Singlehanded

Act of

Nationwide

Toy

Allocation

Sublime
And
Nostalgic,
Truth is
Ambivalent

Standard
Anecdote;
Negotiable
Truths
Abound

Subterfugitive    

Anomaly

Notorious in 

Traditional

Allegories