Six Questions People With Big Families Wish You Would Stop Asking

I have a big family. My sister has a big family. (Everybody in my family has a big family.) Guess what. We like it. Stop assuming that we don't and stop assuming that our parents were crazy. They were, but you can't just assume that everybody who wants kids is crazy. Chances are, they were perfectly sane until they became parents. And some people actually like their kids. Really. So quit all the shocked stares and sorrowful shaking of the head. And never, ever ask these cliche questions again.

1. So, You're Done, Right?

Are you done asking me about my romantic life and use of contraception? What are you, my doctor? Make like my mom's third baby and butt out.

2. Are You Crazy?

Probably. But maybe it's you. My siblings are hilarious. My children are hilarious. I happen to love to laugh so it's natural to want to fill up a room with highly entertaining people. If you don't want to, you might be crazy.

3. You Have Eleven Siblings? Did Your Parents Ever Do Anything Else?

After I get done cringing at your vulgarity, you should understand that under the right conditions, trying for babies once a year for twelve years can produce twelve children. I'm not saying that's what they did because, oh my! It's none of my business! And none of yours.

4. You Have Two Babies And You're Pregnant Again? Don't You Know What Causes That?

Um, no. Won't you please explain it to me? 'Cause I'm pretty sure I was there but it's just a bit fuzzy, ya know?  Hmmm. Interesting. Well, now that I know, I'll definitely make different choices, and all because you took a moment to ask impertinent questions. Thank you so much.

5. Was It Planned?

As a matter of fact, I want kids. Having kids close together so they can have a playmate? Totally on purpose. You know what wasn't planned? Having this conversation with you. I tried really hard to prevent it but, you know. Accidents will happen. If only there was a pill or something.

6. Don't You Care About Overpopulating the World?

No. Your reluctance to reproduce is more than adequate.

In all seriousness, the births in most developed countries are below the replacement rate. More people are growing old and dying than are being born, which is a real problem economically and strategically. Somebody has got to have children and teach them to be responsible, ethical citizens. You're welcome.

BONUS QUESTION

7. Don't You Need A Better Financial Situation Before Trying for Kids?

Don't you need to get the facts before you speak? By the way, I'm not going to tell you the facts. (They're none of your business.) So don't speak.

Questions You Should Ask

Can I get you some water?

Yes, thank you.

Would you like to sit down?

Sure thing.

When can we do a play date?

Friday at 2 pm.

Wanna hang out and watch a movie?

Yes! What movie?

Is there anything I can help you with?

I think I'm okay right now. Thanks for asking.

Are you excited?

I can't wait to hold him.

Are you just amazing?

Awww. Mostly, I think kids are amazing.

Are your parents strong and courageous?

They must be. They put up with me.

Are you ready for this?

Bring it on.

Are you having kids just to pass on your stunning good looks?

How did you know?

If you have five kids, you have a basketball team. Have a few more and you've got a full dugout. Whether you're into sports or want your own personal choir and stand-up comedy club, a big family will never leave you bored. (And they may never leave at all.)

In my family, two's company and three's a party. We smile, we laugh and joke. We say, "Do you remember?"  And we do remember. And we fall off our chairs sometimes. When I get together with my million best friends who I've known my whole life, I feel a closeness, a security that can't be replicated anywhere else. We have our fights, our disagreements and our times of sorrow, but this feeling of safety, of belonging is what keeps me coming back.

Sometimes people ask me if I would go back and change anything about my childhood. The answer is yes. I would change a lot of things. But not my siblings. I'm keeping them forever.

Fun Reminiscences On Pregnancy

Do you still remember being pregnant? Was it fun or miserable? (Misery makes the best stories!) If you remember, want to remember or are preggo right now, you might enjoy these.

Top 10 Most Hilariously Annoying Things About Being Pregnant.

10. Pregnancy Brain

When you can't process simple instructions, can't remember what you were going to do next, or you forget what you were saying right in the middle of your sentence... you might have pregnancy brain. You can't understand the answer to your own question. "The Rubiks Cube works HOW again?"  "Bleg. I can't process anything you're saying. Don't make me call tech support. Don't make me call tech support!"

9. Extra Paranoia

Cheers. Just for you. Movies you used to like now cause anxiety. People you used to like cause anxiety. Don't even think about watching the news or discussing politics. It's too much. Try not to argue with anyone. Those hormones make everything seem worse than it is and you'll end up saying things you'll regret.

8. Weird Dreams

When your boss shows up on a panel (in Cuba) of your least favorite relatives to discuss your messy house and bad hair, that qualifies as a nightmare. If your offspring is suddenly a tomato or kitten, that's definitely weird. When you dream of sleeping, you know you're tired. If your bad dream count goes from 0-1 per night up to 5-10, chalk that up to Extra Paranoia. Ooh! And if candy grows on trees, you're very lucky and should stay asleep a little longer.

7. Fatigue Beyond Any Reasonable Expectation

You spend most of your time lying down, or wishing you were. It wouldn't be so bad if you could sleep at night. Waking up hungry, walking to the bathroom, waking up thirsty, walking to the bathroom, waking up too hot, walking to the bathroom, and surviving one more weird dream all cut into precious sleep time. Lucky you could fall asleep at all, what with all that beautiful extra paranoia running through your pregnancy brain, and all those inexplicable aches and pains.

6. Morning And Any-Time-I'm-Awake Sickness

Some women don't ever get sick, have three-hour labors, and are super good looking. We will not, WILL NOT beat them up. They, after all, are missing out on all the fun. They don't know the joys of suddenly running from a room with one hand clapped over their mouth. The unspeakable power of one word to ruin your moment. The delight of needing food, of hating food, of finally thinking of a food that sounds remotely palatable, of changing your mind about your favorite food for the foreseeable future. Poor saps.

5. Strange Cravings

What is the weirdest thing you've craved? Pickles? Sushi? Seaweed? The special burrito that only your mom can make correctly and is strangely unavailable at three in the morning? With my oldest son, it was peaches and Chinese food. With my youngest, it was steak and fruit juice. Not together. Whatever it is, eat it fast before you don't want it anymore. See number 6.

4. Offensive Odors

Requiring your husband to shower and brush his teeth before kissing you is a bit extreme. Except, well... does he want a kiss or not?

Not everyone has this gift. (Lucky!) What a boon to walk into a room and ask, "Is someone painting?" only to find out that nobody knows what you're talking about. Nobody is painting, nobody ate garlic and there has been no dog food anywhere around in the last three days. Your superpower is too good. Too bad that doesn't help your appetite.Taking a walk, that turns into a run, might look like Godzilla has arrived, but no. Your neighbors are just having fried chicken for dinner. Abominable stuff.


3. Inexplicable Aches And Pains

My foot. My back. My head. My everything hurts.

Why????

I don't know. But, take a bath, get a massage and do some stretches. Drink plenty of water and try to lay off the junk food. Get some exercise. And remember hot packs and cold packs and body pillows and acetaminophen. Bless the inventors of these helpful contrivances.

2. The Shrinking Clothes

Sadly, these are not the magic clothes that make you shrink. They seem to shrink themselves from one day to the next. We knew there was a reason our favorite jeans feel so tight.

What is there left to wear when you're right in between regular and maternity? Compromise. Maternity pants and regular shirts. Or dresses every day. (But not those accursed pantyhose.) Or, my personal favorite, stay in your pajamas all day long. When that gets depressing, just buy a size up. These might fit you again after the baby comes and be good transitional clothes.

My Favorite Clothing Story

While I was 5  months along with my younger son, I was asked to be a bridesmaid. (Ha ha! Go special-order a dress that won't fit you by the time it's ready to wear.) It worked out, but only because I was lucky enough to find a dress off the rack, a few days before the occasion. It's not even maternity but it accommodated a seven-month belly, due to its gathered empire waist that fits every shape.  I still wear it.

1. Unsolicited Advice from Strangers

What is the deal with all kinds of people walking up to you, assuming you're pregnant (what if you're just fat?) and asking a lot of questions? "When are you due? Boy or girl? Is it your first? No?" Noticeable disappointment. Your pregnancy is less the miracle somehow. But it's still everybody's business. "Let me give you some advice that you don't want and find a little disturbing, coupled with my own personal stories to bore and terrify you."

To be fair, it's not all bad. Sometimes people will just be nice and give you their seat, or bring you a cup of water, or let you cut in line to the bathroom. (One man stopped a bus for me because he thought I was on my way to the hospital! Ha ha!) They might give you extra French fries when you're hungry or reassure you that everything will most likely be fine. These are all useful and welcome.

And the advice and personal stories weren't really that bad. The first hundred times. But wow! Can we stop now? Can we stop after the next hundred? Is there an end in sight? One mistake I made was... the train. The whole crowd of passengers all simultaneously advising, arguing about which old wives tale is right. And the worst part? You can't walk away. (Probably this is worst-case scenario and easily avoided. To test this theory, go ride the public transportation with an obvious bump and see what happens. Report back here and best of luck to you.)


My Favorite Happy Memory

I loved feeling my boys move for the first time, and every time. Just knowing that they were okay and would soon make their debut into MY arms was the thrill of a lifetime. (I'll have to remember this when they become teenagers.) The love makes it all worth it, And yes, I would do it all again.

Okay, so there are a few things I would change. For instance, riding the train. Otherwise, not much. I love my boys. I wanted them, they're here, and I still like them. I will chalk this up to The Inexplicable Love of Children Who Wake You Up at Night and Whine During Daylight Hours. But, that's another blog.

Helping Kids Prepare and Learn from General Conference

I love General Conference. To me it feels like Christmas, and not just because I can stay in my pajamas all day. Christmas and Conference have a lot in common. We  get to feel the spirit of Christ, we get to be with family and, if we're lucky, we get to revel in a whole day of unscheduled bliss. (The extra benefit of Conference is that it comes twice a year and the traffic is way better.) The downside of Conference, as with Christmas, is that it's over all too soon. I want to make the most of it and focus on what really matters.

This year I decided to prepare. Not just come with a question, but actually do some work in advance. The reason is simple mathematics.

1. X= effort and Y= results.
2. X=Y.  
3. Therefore 0X=0Y and 385X=385Y

Simply stated, you get out what you put in.

All the speakers prepare what they will say, but do we prepare to hear? The answer is yes! I made a goal to watch all of my Conference DVD's before the big day. My hubby began reading a Conference talk daily. What do we do for our kids? My friend Donna had some great ideas.

First, she sits down with them and explains what the conference is for and what they will be doing. I'd like to ask the kiddos if they have any special questions or goals.

Next, she comes up with a way to help them learn from the talks. There are two basic approaches, the intrinsic and the extrinsic reward.

Since my kids are small and have trouble sitting still for long periods of time, I already know that I won't hear all the talks. I'll be helping the boys to the bathroom or getting them away from the street. To avoid missing all of Conference, it helps to have a plan.

My favorite idea was using treat jars. You fill up several jars with treats, then label the jars with words the kids can listen for: Atonement, Family, Service, Covenant, Plan of Happiness etc. When they hear the word, they get to pick a treat from the corresponding jar. Pretty nifty. (I also know a father who carries a giant roll of quarters with him to his family's TV room. He chooses a word and the first kid who hears it gets a quarter.) This is the extrinsic reward approach and it works well with smaller children.

The intrinsic reward approach focuses on the benefits of learning and feeling the Spirit. It works best with older kids.It might involve taking notes or writing in journals. For older kids or if you want to discourage bribes,simply providing quiet activities my help preserve reverence in your home. My friend puts together a little basket with notepads, colored pencils, gospel-related coloring pages, puzzles, games and other activities for her daughter to use during the sessions. If all else fails, BINGO may help the kids stay occupied so you can listen rather than referee a baseball game.

What to Put In The Jars

Prizes don't have to be edible. Erasers, tops, beads, colored rocks, CTR rings and pass-along cards can all be kid treasures. You could even give them each a treasure box they can try to fill up, symbolizing hidden treasures of knowledge.

The jars can hold materials for a craft that you do together. Crayons, cotton balls, colored paper, beads, ribbons, glitter, stickers. Once you have enough, you can build a house, make a collage or a book. 

The jars can hold puzzle pieces. Once you have them all, you get to put it together. Sort of like gospel knowledge.

Treats could be themed to match the topics. For instance, tiny doughnuts can go in the Eternity jar (because a circle symbolizes eternity) and the Holy Ghost might be Dove chocolate. Truth might be a Golden Nugget and Family might be Hugs and Kisses. Since Jesus ate fish and honeycomb after his resurrection (the story of Easter), Goldfish crackers and Honeycomb cereal might be a fun choice. Endure to the End might be trail mix.

Treats can be healthy too. Word of Wisdom better be a veggie tray. Grapes, berries, raisins, dried fruit and nuts will work in place of candy. In our house, kids won't eat a raisin while they can see a chocolate chip. To get them to choose healthy options, we make them the only options.

With Conference falling on Easter and April 6 (the day the Church was organized) immediately following, I'm pretty excited. Here's what I'm going to do.

1. Practice teaching and listening with the kids as we watch our DVD's this week.
2. Assemble a basket (probably an Easter basket) full of coloring pages, pencils, and scissors.
3. Make a delicious breakfast.
4. Surprise the kids with the prize jars as a last resort.   I'll attach pictures of Jesus to some of the treats.
5. Encourage my kids to write to the speakers and say thank you.
6. Go for a walk between sessions.

Whatever you do, enjoy it. And if you miss some talks, you can look them up on the Church website to read, listen and watch. 

If you want to read more, this blog is pretty cool. I would love to hear about what you do for Conference. 

Why Abortion Is Never Okay

Right away someone is going to tell me why abortion is okay. But don't tell me. Tell that to the child.

Nobody ever does tell the baby their reasons for killing him or her. It's far easier to pretend that there is no baby, no real person. But if somebody were honest enough to do it, the explanation would go like this:

John, (or substitute your favorite name) I find this world to be not that great. I have decided to kill you so you'll be better off. Or, John, this world is overcrowded in the opinion of some people I know and so I'm getting rid of you. John, because you don't  look like me and can't survive without oxygen, food and shelter, I'm going to end your life. John, I think I might find out later that your IQ is well below average. You're gone. John, someone you've never met got raped. This really sucks for you. John, I choose you to die in my place on the twenty-third of this month at eleven o'clock. You don't really have a choice. John, your existence complicates my life and we can't have that. John, I don't want you around so you'll need to die now. Thanks for understanding.

You might have noticed that the child never responds. Because they can't. Just like the trees, the whales, and the entire endangered species list. Somebody has to speak for them.

I speak for the babies.

Empathy teaches us compassion. You might find some here. You might also find some hard truths and unwanted perspective. I won't sugar coat it. Whether it's poisoning the child in the womb, inducing a massive heart attack, or taking a syringe to the brain, there is nothing cute, sweet or polite about an abortion.

1.  Abortion Is Not A Solution. Abortion Requires A Solution

I am filled with sorrow and horror to think that anyone suffers the disgusting and horrific experience of rape. Some of my dear friends have experienced such outrage. I have compassion toward them and anger toward the evil and godless individuals who perpetrated the crimes. More than that, I have faith in God. I believe He can heal the hearts and minds of all who turn to Him for help. He will deal justly with those who commit sin.

Aborting a baby because you've had atrocious crime committed against you, is committing another atrocious crime, literally visiting the sins of the fathers upon the heads of the children. Sorry, but that's not the answer. And it won't remove the scars. Healing from rape will take years whether or not there is a pregnancy AND whether or not the pregnancy is terminated. In view of the fact that so many women feel post-abortion grief, a termination is counter productive to emotional healing. You can read about post-abortion grieving (and physical complications)  here, here, here, here and here.

Rape victims can seek help and eventually heal. It can take a lifetime, but God can heal them. Dead babies can't heal from being dead.

It may be best, for financial, emotional or other reasons, for a woman to NOT have and raise a child, especially when she had no choice, no intention whatever of making one. Women who view the pregnancy with anger, as a reminder of a horrific experience, should place the child for adoption. It's better for the mother and the child. Women who do keep the baby and love him/her, experience a blessing. They receive something good even in the face of so much bad.

2. Infanticide, the Practice of Killing Babies After Birth: Extreme Late-Term Abortion.

In some countries,such as India and China, baby girls are killed simply because the parent(s) wanted a boy. In their worldly sense, boys are more desirable because they are strong, can work hard and don't require a dowry.

"Outrageous!" we say. "Girls are worth just as much as a boy." But we are just as guilty. In the worldly sense of our culture, someone has decided that the mother is more valuable than her child. The mother can work, therefore she costs less. She is stronger and can work harder. The baby, financially speaking, is of much less value. And to the pro-abortion and pro-infanticide crowd, this is all that matters.

To those who truly value equality, no life is more important than another. Everyone deserves a chance.


BUT, BUT, BUT

"But if the mother dies, the baby will die anyway." Probably. But that is true in every pregnancy. We don't know that the mother will die. In an abortion, we don't know that she will live. Here's an idea. What if we stopped deciding who will live and who will die? What if we gave them both a chance?

"But if she has other children, who will take care of them if she dies?" If the mother cares about her children so much, why would she consider killing one of them? Does she really place the value of one of her flesh and blood as lower than another? I'm glad she's not my mom.

"But the mother has people depending on her. People who love and need her." You know why? Because she had a chance to make something with her life. Because she was born. Somebody loved her enough to let her live. Someone did that for me. I am a mother and willing to protect my children even if it means risking my own life. I know that someday I will die. And I can think of no better way to leave this earth than in saving the life of someone else. But I choose that. Nobody is choosing it for me. Abortion takes away somebody else's choice.

3. "What if the child will be born with severe mental disabilities"? 

You mean, what if a child is not the same as everybody else? Welcome to the club. Everyone is different. That doesn't mean we kill them. When a society measures a person's worth based on factors beyond their control, there is something radically wrong with that society. It screams of Nazism.

BUT, BUT, BUT

"The child with such disabilities will likely not live very long anyway." Oh, you value a long life, do you? And exactly how will aborting the child help with that?

"The child's quality of life will be limited." How do you know what the child thinks about his/her life? How did you decide that the lack of some opportunities disqualifies a person from ALL opportunities?

"The child will live in a vegetable state. I would rather die than live that way." You would rather. How do you know the child would rather? Even people in comas can sense things around them. They can hear music, and kind words and funny stories, They can feel loved. They can perceive positive emotions and messages. There are special teachers and schools for educating even bedridden, seemingly comatose individuals. They can learn. They can enjoy their world. I would not rob them of that.

"Disabilities are a huge medical cost." Yes, but there is help. Private organizations and publicly funded disability aid are both available to help cover expenses. And aborting a person in order to save money is the same as killing a person and taking their money.

"But it's expensive for the taxpayers." Stop being a Nazi. Cut taxes and people could afford to give more to charities. Either way, the child does not deserve to die.

"It's too hard to parent a disabled child." And lots of people do it and like it. Read more here. Parenting is not about what you want. It is and has always been a calling of self sacrifice and generosity to others. A truly unselfish person does not create a new life without assuming responsibility for its well being. Such a person will accept the child that they made no matter what kind of challenges come with it.

4. Yes, We Are Talking About A HUMAN BEING

 "It's just a clump of cells. It would never survive on its own." When did you begin judging humanity based on size and shape? That's shallow and abusive.  If you think it's okay to kill a living thing, because it can't survive outside of certain conditions, you've just summed up all of life on Earth.

If it's made of living cells, it's alive. A clump of cells with a heartbeat. Just like you were once. If it's human DNA, it's human. It's a person, not a clump of cells or a tumor. Truly, it would never survive on its own. (Especially if you kill it and deliberately remove it from the womb.) That's all the more reason why we should protect and help it survive. That's why we have parents. And hospitals. We should do all within our power to help save lives. Even small ones.

5. Save the Earth. Stop Having Sex

 Abstinence. It's the only surefire way to prevent pregnancy. You've got to do your part in protecting the earth. Oh, you don't want to do that? How selfish you are. You care about the earth only until it becomes inconvenient for you. Don't tell me you feel like your needs are more important than the earth. No human life could ever, ever, ever be more important than this fantastic rock we live on. (Or don't live on--depending on if we've been aborted or not.)

Have you considered the environmental implications involved in the chemicals used in birth control? The manufacture of the drugs? And the condoms? And the packaging? (It's not sustainable.) And the excesses of having an unnecessary medical procedure! Shame on you.

All sarcasm aside, higher populations do not hurt the earth. It's what the people do while on the earth that makes the difference. Stop the pesticides and herbicides and all the toxic and unnecessary chemicals used in so many factories. Have some kids and teach them sustainable practices so they can help the future generations on the earth when you are no longer around. That would help the earth.

"But there are already so many children in orphanages. It would be irresponsible to make any of my own." Actually, it's only irresponsible if you kill or don't take care of them. Feel free to adopt as well.

6. Being Aborted Is NEVER BEST FOR THE CHILD

 It is not your job to keep people from experiencing a world that you think is not great. It is your job to make it great. Maybe they would grow up and agree that the world is not perfect. But they might love it. Smelling a flower, playing in the snow, giving a hug, hearing a story or watching the stars are all free and bring delight to children and adults alike. A little gratitude and optimism go a long way.

The joy of holding your own child, (and the joy of making one,) the pleasure of sweet music, gorgeous sunsets, funny comedians, amazing feats of courage and skill, and the light that comes into the eyes of a person when they realize that they are loved, are all denied the aborted human being. All the pleasures and happiness you have, all the things you enjoy, you would take them away?

(By the way, if you hate the world and wish you had been aborted, please seek professional counseling. Your life is valuable.)

The pro-abortion arguments that make no sense at all: 

"BUT the child might lack opportunities." Dead children have NO opportunities.

"The world is dangerous and full of evil." Yes, People kill their own children. 

"Life is full of disappointments." You don't kill people because you are disappointed. 

Abortion is wrong and there's no excuse for it. And thank you for not being my parent.

10 Reasons You Should Be Glad You're Short

Wish you were taller? Think again.The air isn't better "up here." Really. It's exactly the same as "down there." And there's a lot more to it. I am almost six feet tall and can tell you it's not all roses. Here are my top ten reasons you should be glad to be vertically challenged and give your self esteem a boost.

1. Tall isn't skinny. Skinny is skinny.

I sometimes hear people saying that if they were tall, any extra weight would be more evenly proportioned and their overall appearance would be improved. I don't like to be the one to contradict, but this makes no sense. Tall people already have "extra weight" simply by having more vertical mass. Since bigger bodies require more energy and nutrients to maintain, tall people have to eat plenty of food. What that means is, if you have the same health habits as a tall person that you had as a short person, the weight gain would increase in proportion to the new size. Here is the nicest way I can say this: When I have extra fat on me, I look like an ogre.

2. Tall people still have to use stools and stepladders.

An extra 6-10 inches is not the same as an extra 3 feet. I still have to use a stool to reach into, and see the back of, all but the lowest kitchen cupboards. I frequently find myself standing on a chair.

3. Tall people do not make better basketball players.

Strength, agility, speed and great hand-eye coordination (and a whole lot of practice and dedication) make great basketball players. Height can help in some positions but it's not the end all. Some amazing players are short. See this link.

4. Height does not mean you should be a model.

Some of my sisters have been models and none of them are more than usually tall. Some are quite short. Anyone can be a model. If you have healthy hair, you can be a hair model. If you have nice hands, you can be a hand model. Nice neck, feet or skin? You get the picture. Plus, with all the photo editing, the magazine pictures of models don't even look like themselves. The only thing required to be a model is work. It's a work I never wanted to do. I simply don't care enough about my appearance to want my paycheck to depend on it.

5. Being a tall girl makes it harder to find taller guys.

If you don't care about this, good for you. I, however, do like my date to be a leetle taller than me. Tall guys are not exactly in short supply (see what I did there?) but the chances of hitting it off don't increase just because you look good together. Finding the right person for you is hard enough as it is. Now try adding height into the equation. I feel blessed that my hubby is one inch taller.

6. Clothing challenges rise to new levels

If you can find pants long enough, it's like a miracle. A very expensive miracle. When you do find long ones they are usually too big around. The perfect fit is pretty much only available at the mall and runs approximately $70. If you're still growing (and you can never tell!) it's pretty pointless.

All too short. And that shirt I'm wearing, it's a dress. 

All my favorite knee-length dresses have become thigh-length dresses. And they were so cute! Sniff. Shopping has become something like a bad dream. You're looking and looking for something. You can't find it anywhere and then you realize all your clothes are missing. Aaaah! Wake up! It's not real. Oh, wait. It is.*%^&

Beautiful dresses that would be stunning on a shorter person look like a shirt on me. A weird, evening gowny shirt. (Or maybe lingerie.) Speaking of shirts, they are made for short torsos. The designers can't/won't lengthen them without also increasing the width, so finding one long enough pretty much guarantees you a tent. Did I mention that you can't trade clothes with your short sisters?





7. High heels make you a giant

This is bad for two reasons. One, all the really cute shoes make you taller than all the really cute guys. (The guy I liked in the beginning of my sophomore year in high school was six inches shorter than me by the end of it. Not cool.) Two, you're so tall that if you trip, you fall for miles, or so it feels like. Even when you aren't falling, you're like a floating head. Just floating around above everyone else's heads. It's even worse on skates.

8. You hit your head on things

Low doorways. Crawl spaces. Attics. When you sit in the back seat of a car and your head bumps the rear window the whole drive, life is pretty ridiculous. I haven't even mentioned leg room in cars and planes.

9. Sinks and counters are too low to use without stooping.

Short people are always complaining that they have to stand on their tippy toes to reach things. Well, tall people have to do that too and at least it doesn't destroy your posture. It gets super annoying having to bend so far all the time just to do the dishes. And they should make counters taller. I'm taking my protest to new heights. Seriously. I may refuse to cook.

10. People always think you're the oldest

People will think that your younger siblings are your children. Your older sisters will be mistaken for your younger sisters and people think you're a grownup when you're sixteen.That's not all bad (hee hee) but you'll never blend in at your old high school (just in case you were sent there on assignment like in Never Been Kissed.)

If this doesn't pump some gratitude into the hearts of all you short people, I know something that will. Just think of all the closet space you can fill with your smaller clothes. Extra room for all those super cute high heels. I hope you trip. XOXOXO

I'm Not The Mom I Planned On Becoming

If there were such a thing as perfect parents, our kids would develop a false impression of the world and unhealthy expectations for themselves. Good thing we never come close. If there's one thing I've learned, it is that failure is good. Allowing our kids to fail helps them learn. Allowing our kids to see us fail, helps them develop realistic expectations about themselves and other people. Parenting is a balancing act and sometimes "we all fall down." I sort of wish I'd known that earlier in life. Then again, it might have reduced some of my most glorious failures. Epic, you might say.

I always wanted to be a mom. As a kid, I got into the habit of taking care of people when they were sick, and giving them hugs when they were sad. I learned how to talk to kids so they would understand. I taught my younger siblings how to write their names. My mother saw to it that I became an expert diaper changer, and tried her best to make me a good housekeeper. I read books on child rearing, health and nutrition, education, discipline and fun craft ideas.

Pity it did me no good. Any head start I ever had on the whole mom thing was screamed and diaper-changed out of me in the first week of motherhood.

 Back to square one. Never mind what all the other babies like. What does this baby like? This baby liked being held at all times. This baby cried from boredom and hated being alone. (Funny. He still does.) This baby made me take all of my parenting theories and throw them out the window. Here are some examples.

1. I will never yell. My child will learn how to handle anger and other emotions from watching me and I must set a good example. 

Whoever came up with that one is living inside a rainbow made of flowers and fairy dust. Or they just never had kids. Infinite patience does exist, but mortals don't have it. Should we yell all the time? No. Should we try to keep our cool? Yes. But here's the deal. The kid's job is to find out what your limits are. They will never stop pushing until they find it. We are human. We fail, often miserably.

Here's what I learned: If I learn my own limits, (often thanks to my son's prodding,) I can set healthier ones that never approach the screaming zone. If I must yell, I can leave the room.

What happens when I fail in all my ambitions and yell in spite of myself? I am teaching my children that people are not perfect, but they can say sorry and try to do better. I am also teaching them how to get along in a society of imperfect people. Learning that other people have anger and limits is a benefit for kids.


2. If I never hit, my kids will never learn to hit.

Wrong. Both my kids started hitting at about nine months and I don't know where they learned it. They were hitting me. I thought with my first one that if I never reacted, he would get bored and stop eventually. Not so much. My son's hitting continued until he got a firm swat on his hindquarters. Then it was over. He had found the boundary. That seems backwards, doesn't it? Actually, it's just teaching natural consequences. He can learn in the safety of his own home that he can't go around hitting people. (I did teach my kids that they can stand up for themselves if they get bullied. They are, in effect, teaching natural consequences to other kids when they do. The idea that self defense is "bullying back" is all nonsense.)

3. If I Never Buy Toy Guns, They Will Never Play Fighting Games

Well, they didn't learn it from me. But they did learn it. My sons played Army, Cops and Robbers, Cowboys, Pirates and every other game that involved fighting. They made action figures fight each other. As there were no toy weapons in the house, they used their fingers as a guns and pointed them at me. Bang goes that theory.

What I learned: They're boys and inherently interested in fighting and protecting. One will make a great Jedi someday (that's what he wants to be.) The other might be a ninja. (What does a ninja do, anyway?) Or maybe he'll be a brilliant military serviceman or law enforcement officer. As long as he uses his powers for good and doesn't go to the Dark Side, it's alright with me.

4. I'm Going to Be Such a Fun Mom

If chores and homework are fun, then yes. Actually, I am pretty fun, but not as often as they or I would like. We go to museums, farms, games, movies zoos, aviaries. We have picnics and outings. We have read-a-thons and awesome pretend games. But we also have work to do, things to learn and bills to pay. I can't always be with them. (I have a job, need breaks, and they don't always want me.) And I say no. A lot. (Candy is bad for you! I'm sorry!)

What I learned: Cleaning house can be fun too. If I can teach my children to be glad in work and play, to entertain themselves, to come up with fun ideas on their own, and to keep a house and budget in order, I am preparing them for a good future.

5. It Will Be Easy to Tell When Discipline is Necessary And When Not

Fact: I struggle with it all the time. The balancing act again. Did he do that just to be mean or does he have some other reason? Is this really a big deal? Did he really even do it? Maybe he needs to learn these consequences on his own. They will work it out by themselves. Maybe I should just give him a break. I would hate to be in trouble all the time. The thing is, I thought I would be a lot more strict than I am. I hate giving punishments. I would rather listen, reason, explain, hope for the best, and give another chance. They really do want to make me happy.

What I learned:  Most of my kids' naughties don't require any reaction from me because they are just not very important. Sometimes they just want to make me laugh. Often, they want my attention. Like me, kids need to make mistakes in order to learn. As they grow, so does their agency. They need to practice using their agency because they have a whole lifetime of decision making ahead of them. Basically, my job is to teach correct principles so they can govern themselves.

6. Parenting Will Be Hard

You have no idea! I had no idea how hard it was until I did it. I've been doing it for seven years and it still throws me curve balls. Every day. I have rarely spent so much time running, or on my knees. There's always a bigger question, always a greater challenge. The fact that we've made it this far is nothing short of a miracle.

What I'm learning: I can do hard things. Sometimes I look ahead into an uncertain future and think, There's no way I can do this. Later on, I look back and think, I can't believe we did this. I am not alone. God, angels, my husband and a host of other moms and dads have got my back. We can do this.


Am I a good mom? I'll just ask my kids.

They say, "Yes, because you feed us" and "I like Mommy because she's nice, but she spends too much time on the computer." (And "My feet are messing up the bed because they're too strong. I need different feet. Somebody needs to take me to the feet store and take these ones off and put new ones on. I know why they're so strong. It's because I ate so much salad.") There you have it. Even in my failures, I am still being a good mom. And it's time to get off the computer.

I Married Superman

How do you know if you've got a good man? Well, if he's willing to put others above himself, stay cheerful in times of trial, knows when to keep his mouth shut, doesn't take things personally, works really hard, doesn't let fear stop him, keeps his promises, says he's sorry, doesn't make excuses, treats every woman with respect, gives up his seat to elders, picks up little children when they're crying, helps unload the groceries, listens to how your day went and saves his best smile for you, he's AMAZING. Keep that guy around.

Sometimes I can't believe how blessed I am. I can't wrap my mind around the fact that my husband loves me. Loves ME. LOVES me. How unlikely. How impossible. And how true. How and why did he ever fall in love with me in the first place? I thought at the time and I have thought since, that it is a miracle.

Because it is.

I used to talk about my husband all the time with girlfriends. Listening, really, as all these women playfully criticized their soulmates. Again and again the complaints would come out. "He doesn't help around the house. He won't change diapers. He gets ticked off when..." It was social murmuring, a time of "getting it out" and sharing. I'm a social person and the exercise seemed harmless enough at the time, but I honestly couldn't think of anything negative to say about my husband. Not one thing.

They'd all be complaining because their husbands all did something or other, and I'd have to admit, "My husband doesn't do that." I hadn't learned to keep my mouth shut, and why should I? My love is sweet and deserves to be praised. I don't want anybody talking bad about him, especially me. Other women didn't see it that way.

I must have been pretty convincing in my praise, because they all believed my husband to be sweet and clever and good. They just didn't think that I deserved him. Since I never took the trouble to brag about myself, they just assumed that I was a grouchy, horrible wife, who was all take and no give and who would soon be divorced. Ouch.

I'm going to skip all the "Where do they get off" outrage at their presumptions and just get to the part where they insulted my husband's intelligence. Sure, he's smart, sweet, good natured, hard working, determined, a veritable superman, but he can't tell that the girl he's dating is a complete witch. Anybody that nice is bound to be unhappy in marriage because nobody will ever be as nice to him. It's a mystery why he seems so happy. He'll eventually catch on and dump her.

I actually received long, unsought and downright nauseating lectures on all that I must do to keep him. Under constant attack, I found myself obliged to declare that I did do nice things for my husband. I'm angry just thinking about it. Not because anyone would be that... [choose your own adjective here] but because I put up with it for as long as I did. I'm angry at me.

I'm getting over it, and so must everyone else. I intend to brag about my husband any time the subject is mentioned and anyone who doesn't like it is welcome to leave. There will be no man-bashing here. There is no one to bash. My husband is awesome!

A dinner 

It's been seven years now and he still hasn't seen the light and dumped me. I wonder if my constant admiration for him has anything to do with it? (Or maybe dinner?) It's probably true that on some level, I don't deserve him. I might be called upon to acknowledge that on some level, he might not deserve me. But I won't. Our imperfections fit together, like those brain puzzles he's so fond of working. Together, we're pretty amazing and since I see him best when we're together, I see perfection.

If anyone wants to get together to brag about their men, I'm in. Better yet, let's write it all down, give it to our husbands with a [whatever thing they like] and see if it doesn't work for another seven years. Or maybe seven hours. Whatever.

Happy Crazy Backwards Day--True Confessions of a Working Mom

Being a mom is hard work. Being a Mormon mom is a blessing with lots of responsibility. Being a working Mormon mom is like trying to juggle EVERYTHING! Show up. Look nice. Be nice. Get the job done. Try and keep your priorities straight.

 I love being a wife, a mom and a Mormon. Especially with angelic help, which I believe I am entitled to. I  try hard. I really do. HOWEVER, sometimes, I get a little mixed up. Or a lot mixed up. And it's usually funny. (If it's not funny now, it will be in ten years.) If I can't be perfect, I am at least going to laugh. Here's a story of how all my ambitions and good intentions went completely backwards.

 The backwardness actually started with my working all night, and then going to bed while my family was waking up. Things just got crazier from there. I sat around all day trying to wake up and forgot to eat, so I was starving by the time I left my home, where my husband was MAKING DINNER, to go hang out with some girlfriends, where I knew there would be no food. I even had a headache coming on. That backwardness was just the beginning. I realized that I had forgotten my sewing machine, that my hair and makeup were not done, and I was headed to a craft night with two very pretty ladies who never forgot to do their hair and makeup. This is going to be good.

When I arrived at my friend's house, I found that no one was at home, they all having gone to the fabric store. One friend had sent me a text of the change of plans but it was unclear to me (probably I was reading it backwards) and the other friend's text ended up somewhere in Hawaii (where I would like to be but in the interest of opposites, reversals and backwardness, I was not there to receive my text.) My husband advised me to come home and bring back a movie for us to watch together. At that point, I really wanted to, but my friends felt so bad for the crazy communication that leaving now would have been cruel and insulting.

I sat there in my car, watching the house and being as creepy as possible. (Actually, I was watching Internet videos and so missed the exact moment of arrival.) After forty minutes of this, I finally went inside and had a great time eating candy and popcorn for a nutritious dinner and watching the same movie I would have seen with my husband that night. No crafts after all. Once the movie was over, I declared that I needed to go home, sent a text to my husband to that effect, and then proceeded to stay another twenty minutes.

 Having asked hubby to get a movie for us to watch, I went home expecting to snuggle up in my messy house. What I found was a much tidier house than I had left. Backwards, but a good backwards. There was no movie. I checked my phone, (which had been on silent the entire night!) and found a message from my love, asking me to get the movie, as the kids were in bed. There was no time for it anyway. Oh, well. Might as well go to sleep, which he immediately did. Having slept all that morning, a REM cycle was much more difficult for me to achieve. I knew I was going to be up late, which was bad, because I expected company in the following early afternoon and the house was not up to par. I finally drifted off into a troubled dream state and that was the official start of my Crazy Backwards Day.

The alarm must have rung eighty times before my husband got up and took our oldest son to school. The knowledge that my youngest boy would tear apart the whole house in short order was enough to drag me out of bed too. Hubby and Denny were gone and hot cereal was on the table. Perhaps it was a nod to Opposites Day but whatever the reason, my husband had switched the bowls--not the portions, just the dishes around, giving the toddler a giant bowl and reserving the baby bowl for me. Good, I thought, I'm just going to embrace it all. If this is backwards day, bring it on.

I ate my breakfast, calling down blessings upon my hubby's head for it, and then decided to clean the house. I was totally exhausted, but GUESTS WERE COMING and the house must be in order. I started by unloading the dishwasher of all the dirty dishes that I had put in there clean the day before. (Backwards is beautiful.) I planned the meal I would cook, (pasta with homemade sausage) and grabbed all the grody towels and stuffed them into the washer. I went to dress and was combing my hair when a ginormous wave of fatigue jumped on my face and beat me into submission.

"You need a haircut and a bath," I told my son as I changed back into my pajamas. "I'll cut your hair in a little while" and I lay down on top of the blankets in my unmade bed. "You have time to get some cleaning done while Mommy is napping." With that, I slept like a baby, which means I woke up all the time and screamed. "Leave the fridge alone! Don't break that! Turn the water off! Did you clean your room? That's too loud!"

I eventually got up. It was time to pick up my son from school, so naturally, I started frantically cleaning my house again. After a while, I knew that my guests would be arriving, so I immediately left the house. They texted me that they were running late. Perfect. Me too. I picked up my son, and returned home to find peeps on my porch. They looked surprised to see me in my pajamas but I just smiled and asked if they'd been waiting long. Once we got inside, I wanted to be the best host ever, so I left them all alone in the living room while I changed into slacks and a sweater.

The house was presentable, sort of. The bathroom was cleaner than it looked and the living room looked cleaner than it was. I started making a late lunch and needed my apron, only to remember that it was still in the washer. I didn't get a chance to talk much. My kids were doing plenty of that anyway. My four-year-old got so excited that he kept shouting. Every time he did this, he disturbed the baby, which disturbed his mama, which disturbed all of us. Things were going great.

After a while, my guests said they had to go visit other friends and so departed with hugs. My oldest son burst out crying because they couldn't stay, and screamed after they left because nobody would leave him alone. He got a timeout and then we ate our pasta and sausage by ourselves. It was delicious. Heedless of the cold outside, my boys ate huge glasses of ice and played Ghost in the Graveyard in daylight.

This has been about the best Backwards Day ever, although, my poor guests got the brunt of it. Someday I'll have them over again and I will be at home, on time, and dressed. The only thing I want to do now is watch the second half of a girly movie and then cuddle to sleep with my love.

 My boss just asked me to come in for an evening shift. I guess I'd better change into my work clothes. Now if I can just pull these pants over my head and work my feet through the sleeves of my work shirt, I'll be set. I'll head to my job as soon as hubby gets home from his. When I come back, I'm starting this day over. When you run a backwards day in reverse, it comes out right. (If you get enough sleep.)

I Took All Their Toys...And They Like It.

I like toys. I think they're cool and I like trying out new ones. I rarely buy them though, because I hate clutter and my kids hate cleaning. I only buy brand-new toys for birthdays and Christmas. That's 2 per child, 2 days a year, times 4 years. That is 16 toys. So WHY do we have so many?!? Somewhere, the math isn't working. Okay, so there's the occasional thrift-store yes, like the toy vacuum (I wish it were real) and the light saber. My kids also earn money for chores and they sometimes buy toys. Then there are the gifts from friends and relatives. But considering how many things they break, lose and give away, you'd think it would balance out.

 Some of you are laughing now. You know what I'm talking about. It never balances out! In fact, there is a tremendous worldwide imbalance. All the kids in less-developed countries who don't have any toys, ever wonder why? They're all in my house, that's why! (The toys, not the kids.) It's time to correct the imbalance! I'm sending the toys back to Uganda.

Here's the story. One night, I had told my kids to clean their room for the billionth time, only to hear once again that it was too hard. You know what? I believed them. I came in with a handful of large trash bags and said I was coming in to help. They believed me. One by one, we gathered up all the toys, organizing them by category, and stuffed them ALL into the bags. The kids looked relieved and never complained or protested. The bags went into the attic but we can't keep them all. Some really will have to be sent away and I still want to help out needy kids. I'm just not sure how to get them to Africa. In any case, my boys have not had to pick up toys in a week and they're much more relaxed.

I wouldn't recommend such a drastic approach in most cases, but we've seen some neat results from this experiment. Here's what happens:

My children are much more creative in their play. They have to be. They're building tents out of blankets, dressing up with sheets, and playing music with dishes. They're building puppet theaters using cardboard. (They don't have any puppets so Daddy's old socks might get repurposed.) They pretend to be gates, bridges, trees and banana splits. This afternoon, they were giving one another horsey rides. They appreciate shadows, colors and music more. The few straggler toys that escaped the sweep are much more enjoyed.

The boys are much more interested in learning about whatever I'm doing. Today they helped me assemble first-aid kits for their emergency bags and I taught them about preparedness. They talk to me more and tell me about their lives. They read more. My older son is teaching his little brother the alphabet.

I guess less really is more. Less is also less. Less whining, less TV and less mess. Less time looking for things, less fighting over things. Less time worrying about THINGS and more time with PEOPLE. I think this experiment is a success, more or less (I just had to do that.)

Playing with toys helps children learn about their world and be more like their parents. Not having toys does that too. I'm wondering what tomorrow will bring. Will my children start cooking and thinking that laundry is fun? Will they get excited about real tools and real vacuums? We'll have to wait and see. I'm sure that I'll bring the toys out of the attic sometime. But not today. Today, I'm a caterpillar, crawling around in a vegetable garden. So I can't go in the attic, can I?

Why I Didn't Wait to Have Children

As Latter-Day Saints, we have an interesting culture. We believe in having children, and anytime a couple is newly married, we assume that they want and will have kids. We assume that they will have a child within two years, and probably more than one child at some point. We are not bad people for having these assumptions; they're often based on real life and what we've seen. The problem arises when we carry our assumptions too far, and start telling people they have to fit into a mold based on our expectations.

I have been guilty of this. Based on my perception of today's Latter-Day Saint culture (notice I said culture, not doctrine) I assumed that a  couple who did not announce pregnancy in the early stages of marriage was "waiting".  Boy, was I wrong! They had wanted children from day one and my verbalized assumptions caused them pain. I was told in no uncertain terms to "Mind my own business!"

I was shocked. Everywhere I went, people asked other people when and how many children they planned to have. It was "normal". When I spoke to this couple, I meant to show them that I supported their right to make decisions about their family. I learned something: supporting them is not my job. Short of being their doctor, bishop or therapist, there is no necessity, no reason whatsoever, for thinking about how many children SOMEONE ELSE wants to create and when. I can't think of any righteous purpose that would be served by it.

As Elder Neil L. Andersen told us in October 2011 General Conference,

 When to have a child and how many children to have are private decisions to be made between a husband and wife and the Lord. These are sacred decisions—decisions that should be made with sincere prayer and acted on with great faith.

There you have it. Not only is it not our decision, it is private. And just like all private things, we have no business speculating about them. If  someone voluntarily shares their decision with us, we should be kind, realizing that they have shared something private and sacred, like a testimony.  We are not being called upon to agree or disagree.


I Come From A Large Family

I grew up in a family that believed and taught that birth control was a literal tool of Satan to prevent Heavenly Father's spirit children from gaining bodies. Anyone who "planned" their family using any method other than abstinence was evil or deceived. I don't particularly like that philosophy, not just because there are legitimate and unselfish reasons for preventing pregnancy (severe medical conditions that require heavy medications, for instance,) and not because it is a seriously harsh judgment we are not called upon to make.

I don't like that philosophy because I've seen many instances where people would have a lot of kids--providing bodies for those spirits--and not pay any/enough attention to the raising of them. I don't want to be a judge of these people. I just feel bad for the kids, so often raising, and raised by, their siblings. I was born in such an environment, and while I do not condemn my parents--they were doing the best they knew how--I wished to approach parenting in a different way.

I Really Like Kids

My whole life I wanted kids--lots of kids! My childhood was not all bad and living with eleven siblings had taught me to love children and want a house full of them. I used to shock people for fun by telling them I wanted fifteen children, never being quite sure I'd find a willing husband.(That number has fluctuated a lot over the years.) When my husband and I became engaged, we took the matter very seriously. He came from a family of three and the full-house concept--and budget! frightened him a little. I wanted babies right away, and he wanted to wait a year. We were both in school and working, not making much money. I knew that it was not my decision. It was OURS. We talked about it. We prayed. We went to the temple. I did research on birth control, namely, finding out what it was.

Here's what we learned: God is the Maker and Sender of all spirits. He has commanded us to multiply and replenish the earth so we can rejoice in our posterity. We know that when the Lord commands He also prepares a way. He will not send us more than we can handle, and He will help us all the way through to the end. We made the decision to... do nothing. We left it in His hands. We would not use birth control unless medically necessary and we never have.

It seems crazy sometimes to think of how poor we were, but never wanted for anything. We never went hungry, never had to move back in with our parents, and we had FUN. We have been so blessed, especially through others--strangers sometimes-- who reached out to help. The Lord really has opened and continues to open the way for us. We have both continued our educations and have not been hindered by being parents. And we have rejoiced.

Our children are so sweet and funny and we wish we could have more. Someday...it's still in the Lord's hands. Meanwhile, we are blessed by our two little boys. When they say, "Mommy, I'm happy. We're a family" it melts my heart. When they cover my desk with drawings of superheroes, I feel like the luckiest woman alive. And when they put their arms around my neck and cuddle at bedtime, I know that this is what Heaven was meant to be like. My little bit of Heaven, here on earth.

"Mommy, I'm happy. We're a family."

I hope that everyone gets to feel their bit of Heaven. No matter what happens, though, let us not judge others for waiting, or not waiting; for wanting many or wanting few; for spacing or not spacing. Let us withdraw our minds from the sacred and private decisions of others. The Lord has it covered and no one is more qualified for the job. For my part, I'd rather be rejoicing.