The Ridiculous Game that Changed My Life

To be honest, we discovered this by accident. It began with some silliness on my part, as all good games do. It turned into one of the most beautiful moments of my life. Now we do it at bedtime because it is so special. You can start. Ask your kid. Be silly. End with love. See what happens.


"Whose boy are you?"
"Yours."
"Are you sure?"
"Yes."
"But what if you weren't a boy at all? What if you were a...  rain drop?"
"I would be your raindrop."
"What if you turned into a watermelon?"
"Then I'd be your watermelon?"
"BUT what if you were a lollipop?"
"I'd still be yours."
"And if you became a train?"
"I would be your train. Whatever I am, and whatever I turn into, I'll still be yours."
"Really?"
"Really. If I were a pillow, I'd be your pillow."
"Such a nice pillow."
"And if I were a mustache, I'd be right here, on your face."
"Oh, good! I needed a mustache."
"Hee, hee!"
"What if you were a star?"
"I would be your star."
"And a cloud?"
"I would be your cloud."
"What about a hug?"
"Your hug!"
"What if you were a smile?"
"I would be your smile."
"You are my smile."

STOP Changing the Clocks, Save Lives

A Timely Intervention:

Permanent Summer Hours Boost Quality of Life

Forty-eight percent of Americans find Daylight Saving Time a nuisance and want it eliminated, according to a poll from Rasmussen Reports. Daylight Saving Time, the semiannual changing of the clocks, was originally instituted to save energy. By manipulating time, one hour backward in the fall and forward again in the spring, people were expected to sleep during the darkest part of the night, thus reducing the need for light and electricity. However, the opposite is true. Habits formed during summer hours remain throughout the year, but in winter, people turn on more lights. 

However, the DST question involves much more than electricity. Arbitrary changes in time cause negative effects in health, safety, productivity, and overall energy consumption. However, many proponents of Daylight Savings Time (DST) argue that summer hours boost the economy and reduce crime. Based on the research, Americans can have the best of both worlds, by stopping the changes, and keeping summer hours throughout the year.  Here follows evidence that time changes are doing more harm than good, and DST, itself, is actually benefiting the American people.

Daylight Saving Time Wastes Energy

Although the program was originally instituted to save energy, research shows that Americans are likely to use more energy than they otherwise would. According to a study by students of the Bren School of Environmental Science & Management, Indiana’s residential electricity use has increased by up to 4% per household since its adoption of Daylight Saving Time in 2006. Prior to this change, Indiana had some counties that did not use DST. This allowed researchers a clear reference point for comparison. People tend to continue the same schedule throughout the year, turning on more lights during the dark winter evenings. A continuation of summer hours would provide more daylight in winter, thus reducing the need for electricity.

The Jump to Daylight Saving Time Decreases Productivity and Safety in the Workplace

 Electricity, and the fossil fuels used to create it, is not the only form of energy at stake. DST wastes human energy too. Taking time to change the clocks, forgetting the change, and therefore running very early or very late to activities causes delays and confusion. Furthermore, the time changes actually decrease efficiency as the disruption of individual circadian rhythm leads to sleep deprivation, and tired people don’t work effectively. Dr. Till Roenneberg, a German chronobiologist, states that due to DST, “the majority of the population has drastically decreased productivity, decreased quality of life, increasing susceptibility to illness, and is just plain tired.”

Beyond the obvious slowdown at work, inability to think clearly, due to sleep deprivation, is responsible for increased accidents in the workplace. According to the US Department of Health and Human Services, sleep deprivation is partly responsible for human errors that cause nuclear meltdowns, grounded ships, and plane crashes. One study by the American Psychological Association shows that on the first Monday following the spring forward time change, workplace injuries increased by 5.7 percent, and caused the loss of 68 percent increase in lost work days, due to injury. “We contend that the springtime change is associated with an increase in the number and severity of workplace accidents, especially for those engaged in jobs requiring a high level of attention to detail. . . Studies have shown that lost sleep causes attention levels to drop off, (The Society of Human Resource Management.") 

Workplace injuries significantly reduce profitability for companies, in terms of understaffing, lost work days, and distraction from assigned tasks, but the largest cost is often in Workers’ Compensation for injured employees. These payouts alone cost US employers and estimated $1 billion each week, according to OSHA (Occupational Safety and Health Administration.) While discontinuing time changes would not eliminate all such costs, it would reduce them, while improving overall health.

Time Changes Increase Risk of Suicide and Heart Attacks

All mental health requires adequate rest, and sleep disruption comes at a price. For some, it may be no worse than a day or two of feeling “a bit off,” while for others, it may become a matter of life and death. According to the Department of Clinical and Biomedical Sciences, in Australia, male suicide rates increase in the week following the start Daylight Saving Time, compared with the rest of the year. Additionally, sleep deprivation is linked to “heart disease, kidney disease, high blood pressure, diabetes, stroke, obesity and depression, (National Heart, Lung and Blood Institute.”) It is not surprising, then, that heart attacks increase by 5 percent in the weeks following the spring DST change, (The New England Journal of Medicine.)

In contrast, maintaining summer hours improves health, as more daylight invites people out of doors after work and school, and increases physical activity. This would make a drastic difference in winter, when the evenings are naturally darker, and when many children huddle indoors immediately after school.

Longer sunlit days also mean more exposure to the sun’s rays, which can help fight depression. Each year, 20% of the population is affected by Seasonal Affective Disorder, (SAD) or “winter blues.” This is related to the decrease in overall sunlight and the fact that people stay indoors more during cold weather. According to the US National Library of Medicine, vitamin D plays a role in decreasing depression. Since most people in the US have insufficient levels of vitamin D and direct sunlight stimulates the skin to produce it, longer daylight could reduce and potentially eliminate winter blues.

Extending Summer Hours Year-Round Reduces Crime

More light also means fewer robberies. According to an article in Brookings Now, “When DST begins in the spring, robbery rates for the entire day fall an average of 7 %, with a much larger 27 % drop during the evening hour that gained some extra sunlight.” The article suggests that the change is due to the extra daylight occurring at the time when most people are leaving work. Even walking to the parking lot becomes safer when people can see threats, and are, themselves, more visible to passersby.  

The decrease in crime saves millions of dollars in damages. In 2007, when Congress extended DST by four weeks, crime rates dropped during those weeks, saving an estimated $59 million in robberies that did not occur. By continuing summer hours, the daylight lasts long enough for most 9-5 workers to make it home before dark. While it is true that mornings will be darker, most workers will be in or near their homes at that time, with a much shorter walk to the car, and quick access to help and safety.

Longer Daylight Boosts the Economy

Consumer spending increases during Daylight Saving Time, and decreases when it ends. More people shop, buy gasoline, and spend money during the daytime. According to ProCon.org, later daylight increases the retail and gas sales after work for the eight months of the year spent in Daylight Saving Time. Extended hours increased golf revenues up to $400 million in one month of DST. The barbecue industry, likewise, sees a profit increase $150 million during one month during summer hours. Los Angeles, California retailers report sales decreasing 3.5 % after the DST ends in the fall.

Keeping Daylight Saving Time Benefits Americans

\Americans can see a dramatic improvement in their quality of life by eliminating time changes and adhering to summer hours. With more efficient energy use, they can save money, while removing sleep disturbances helps keep them safe and productive. With adequate sleep, and its attendant improvement in health, comes the ability to enjoy life more. Crime reductions allow for greater peace of mind. People will have more time to shop and travel with a corresponding boost to the economy. Since time and the way it is used affect every aspect of life, continuing Daylight Saving Time has the potential to improve quality of human life in virtually every way. What could people accomplish if their greatest health challenges were removed, or eased? What could they build if their tax dollars were not used in crime investigations? No one knows for certain, but the prospects are bright. It's time to make a change that will save time, money, and lives, a new definition of Daylight Saving Time.

Works Cited

Barnes, Christopher M., PhD. “Saving Daylight, Increasing Danger: Daylight Saving Time Leads to Less Sleep, More Injuries on the Job.”  Wagner, David T., PhD. American Psychological Association. September 2009. http://www.apa.org/news/press/releases/2009/09/daylight-injury.aspx. Accessed November 15, 2017.

Berk, Michael. “Small Shifts in Diurnal Rhythms are Associated with an Increase in Suicide: The Effects of Daylight Saving.” Sleep and Biological Rhythms, the Japanese Society of Sleep Research. January 2008. Wiley Online Library. http://onlinelibrary.wiley.com/doi/10.1111/j.1479-8425.2007.00331.x/abstract;jsessionid=18E619378C325C1BFFBCBA1286843BB6.f02t02 . Accessed November 13, 2017.

“Business Case for Safety and Health.” Occupational Safety and Health Administration, United States Department of Labor. https://www.osha.gov/dcsp/products/topics/businesscase/costs.html. Accessed November 15, 2017.

Doleac, Jennifer L. “Fighting Crime with Daylight Saving Time.” Sanders, Nicholas J. Brookings Now, Brookings. October 29, 2015. https://www.brookings.edu/blog/brookings-now/2015/10/29/fighting-crime-with-daylight-saving-time/. Accessed November 13, 2017.

Handwerk, Brian. “Time to Move On? The Case Against Daylight Saving Time.” National Geographic. November 1, 2013. https://news.nationalgeographic.com/news/2013/11/131101-when-does-daylight-savings-time-end-november-3-science/. Accessed November 13, 2017.

Janszky, Imre, M.D., Ph.D. “Shifts to and from Daylight Saving Time and Incidence of Myocardial Infarction.” Ljung, Rickard M.D., Ph.D. The New England Journal of Medicine. October 30, 2008.            http://www.nejm.org/doi/full/10.1056/NEJMc0807104. Accessed November 13, 2017.

“Just 33% See the Purpose of Daylight Saving Time.” Rasmussen Reports. March 7, 2014, http://www.rasmussenreports.com/public_content/lifestyle/general_lifestyle/march_2014/just_33_see_the_purpose_of_daylight_saving_time. Accessed November 13, 2017.

Kotchen, Matthew J. “Does Daylight Saving Time Save Energy? Evidence from a Natural Experiment in Indiana.” Grant, Laura E. The National Bureau of Economic Research. October 2008. http://www.nber.org/papers/w14429. Accessed November 15, 2017.

Maurer, Roy. “Workplace Injuries Spike After Daylight Saving Time Change.” Society for Human Resource Management. Mar 6, 2015. https://www.shrm.org/resourcesandtools/hr-topics/risk-management/pages/workplace-injuries-daylight-saving-time.aspx. Accessed November 15, 2017.

Penckofer, Sue , PhD, RN.  “Vitamin D and Depression: Where is All the Sunshine?” Kouba, Joanne, PhD, RD. Byrn, Mary, BSN, RN. Ferrans, Carol Estwing, PhD, RN, FAAN. PMC, National Library of Medicine: National Institutes of Health, June 2010. https://www.ncbi.nlm.nih.gov/pmc/articles/PMC2908269/. Accessed November 13, 2017.

Targum, Steven D, MD. “Seasonal Affective Disorder.”  Rosenthal, Norman, MD. PMC, National Library of Medicine: National Institutes of Health. May 2008. https://www.ncbi.nlm.nih.gov/pmc/articles/PMC2686645/. Accessed November 13, 2017.

“Top 3 Pros and Cons of Daylight Saving Time.” ProCon. March 2017. https://www.procon.org/headline.php?headlineID=005345. Accessed November 13, 2017.

“What Are Sleep Deprivation and Deficiency?” National Heart, Lung, and Blood Institute. June 2017. US Department of Health and Human Services. https://www.nhlbi.nih.gov/health/health-topics/topics/sdd. Accessed November 15, 2017.

Love Letter to a Mattress

My One and Only

My Dearest Mattress,

How I rejoiced the first time I saw you! My heart leaped as I touched you. Right away, I knew you were made for me. Your softness and your sweet smell filled me with delight, but I knew you were more than a pretty face. You showed a depth and sensitivity, a comforting nature and a warm heart, yet you possessed the ability to be strong under pressure and bounce back from difficult situations. I really look for that in a mattress. The decision to commit to you was an easy one; I didn’t need to sleep on it. You were my heart’s desire, the one I had been searching for.

I could hardly wait until the delivery man brought you home to me. I can well remember that day, as we lovingly hoisted your fluffy bulk up the stairs. Soon we had you installed as reigning Queen, complete with pedestal and robes, and we, your loyal subjects, engaged in worshipful adoration. And such a Queen! Surely no monarch was ever so much loved; a healer in illness, a support in trial and a peacemaker in times of conflict. So often I have come to you in stormy trouble only to find sunshine in your company and wisdom in your depths. You were more than a goddess. You were a friend.

Remember all the movies we watched together? Remember the books? How wonderful it was on a quiet evening, with just you, our friend Chocolate and me, to bask in the wit of Georgette Heyer or Jane Austen.  We’d contrast the rival claims of dishwashing against the charms of such novel heroes as Julian St. Audley and Charles Rivenhall. We might sit quietly and listen to the rain, I with my tea, and you with your blanket, and ponder on the beauties of life. How good it felt to snuggle down with you, all safe and comfortable, and knowing that, in that instant, nothing could take away our peace.

Over the years, you have always been there for me. I love you for all you have done, and I couldn’t sleep at night if I didn’t express my gratitude for everything you have given me. You comfort my nights and tantalize my daydreams. Thank you for being in my life.

Love, 💓💓💓💓💓💓💓

Abigail

Stupid! Stupid! Stupid! Telling It Like It Is, a Journal of Pregnancy Loss

Day 1 of Miscarriage 7

The nurse called and told me that my HCG levels have dropped to nothing. The pregnancy is over. I am numb. I can't do anything except sink back onto the pillows exhausted. I can't do anything today. Everything is too hard. Good thing I have chocolate hidden in my file cabinet. (I had to share with my kids.) It doesn't hurt as much as I thought. Maybe it's because I wasn't far along. I didn't have as much time to get attached. But the sad truth is, I wanted all the time I could get. This is going to hurt.

I wonder when it's going to hit me. I listen to self-improvement audio books. I work on my college application. I cook dinner. I tell my friends that I'm not pregnant after all. This is actually only half true because my abdomen is still swollen, I'm still tired and I still can't stand smells. The irony is that I've stopped bleeding, but I'm not through miscarrying. I told my in-laws that it was all over, but it's just beginning. The miscarriage will take as long as the pregnancy.

I met with my bishop so I could get his endorsement to attend BYU-Idaho. I ended up telling him everything. He was upset with the doctors for not being able to help me. He offered me a priesthood blessing, presumably, to make my body behave so I can try again and have children. He was very kind but he doesn't understand. It's too soon.

Two of my nice neighbors came over.  They don't know what's going on. One brought some boots for my husband, the other brought bread sticks. He works at a pizza place.


Day 2:

It hurts so much today. I can't bear it. I'm torn between wanting to shop, and distract myself, and knowing that it won't last and the pain will come back. I also don't want to blow the budget. Restaurants and shoe stores are not going to help my financial goals.

A friend texted me a nice birthday greeting. It's not my birthday but I am appreciative. She doesn't know about my troubles. It's hard to tell people.

One friend (or maybe not a friend) offered to listen, and instead tried to point out a silver lining (which, by the way, doesn't exist as far as dead babies are concerned,) by telling me certain details about his sex life. (Insert your own expletive here.)  Can I please vomit now? We are no longer friends. Good thing he lives out of town.

I used a gift card from my brother-in-law, (who lives out of town,) to take my kids out for lunch. I can't cook today. I brought salad and bread sticks home. Maybe I won't have to cook tomorrow. My visiting teacher friend, (who is also out of town!) sent me a pizza. And cheesy bread sticks. That was helpful.

I took my kids to the library and hugged them a lot. They are so sweet.

Day 3:

Today is a dreadful day. I can't sleep. My mind won't shut down.

I wish I could talk about this with someone but it's hard to do. My feelings are so raw.

My brain is stuck in a fog. I can't think the way I used to. I can't function like a normal human. I can't solve problems. I can't figure out the best way to drive from one place to another, even though I've been there a score of times. I may not even end up there at all. I can't make decisions. I can't decide whether to get up out of bed in the mornings, or what clothes to wear, or what to eat or how to get help. I can't remember how to be polite. I'm probably going to offend someone.

My closest friends, to whom I tell everything, are not available. One is out of town, one is going out of town, and one lost phone service. I wish I was kidding.  Many of my other friends either live out of town or are on a trip. I don't even know how to ask for help anymore. I can't handle one more no. (I haven't gotten that many, but right now, I can't handle them.) I'm not getting support. No one has visited. No one has called. No one has sent flowers and I haven't gotten one hug.

I wish someone would come pick up my kids so I can break my heart in peace. It's odd. I'm crying because I don't get another kid, but I want to send the others away. My friend's daughters usually babysit for me but they're going on vacation. I would laugh if it weren't so sad.  It's just me and the bread sticks.

The Reason My Childhood Was Great

If you read my blogs, you probably notice something odd. Some blogs are filled with fun and laughter, while others are absolutely sober and tragic. It's almost like they're written by different people, but they're not.


My childhood was awful.          My childhood was lovely...

My family was abusive and damaging.     What good times we had...

These are all true and I'm not even crazy.

The Center for Disease Control and Prevention maintains a list of social, economic, family and other circumstances that indicate a high probability that a youth will engage in crime, violence, drugs and other risky behaviors. They list  31 risk factors, and generally speaking, you're considered high risk if you identify with six of them. I had 23.

There are also "protective factors" which indicate that risky behavior is less likely. Out of 20, I had 5. But there were only two that mattered.

I didn't want to be bad, get in trouble or make my mother cry. This is classified as "intolerant attitude toward deviance." And I believed God was watching me. This is classified as "religiosity." I didn't want to rebel, so I never did.

I never did anything to make my life unhappy-er, but what was it that made it happy? Where did I get my joyful memories?

Play.

We had chores, but we played. I had no friends, but I played. Any time I got a chance, I was playing, and I mean deep, creative, imaginative pretend play. We had few toys, but we became wool merchants using dryer lint. We climbed trees and our home was a palace. We built tree houses and climbed aboard a pirate ship. With a teacup from the kitchen, we made enough mud cookies to stock the pantry shelves. We bought and sold using leaves for currency.

My brothers saved up and bought GI Joe's and we dug canals, forts, trenches and swimming pools for them in the backyard. My sister wrapped small sticks in fabric to make dolls. When we had Barbie dolls, they were usually naked, so we sewed clothes for them.

We dammed up the rain gutter to make a large puddle. We built play houses. We taught the dog tricks. We went for walks, played in the sprinklers, climbed on the roof and cooked giant messes in the kitchen. We dug a giant hole in the side yard and filled it with water from the hose. We covered it with a board and hid the dirt in the garden. We dressed up in whatever we could find; sheets, shawls, pillows, hats, curtains and old dresses and jackets. And where we went, our ragdolls went too.

We picnicked at home, camped in the backyard, (jumped the fence to "steal" the neighbor's peaches--he said we could!) danced in the rain, sang all the time, raided the fridge and shot BB guns at green army men. We even made our own bows and arrows, our own wooden swords, used trash can lids as shields and played war games. We hung up sheets and blankets and built tents in our room. We made up silly Limericks. We read books, as many as we could get.  We counted the stars, blew dandelions,  skipped stones, ran races and whistled.  We made up skits, told funny jokes and our tea parties were disastrously lovely.

We were in charge. We were fairies. We were the police.We were doctors, detectives, soldiers and queens. We were orphans, mermaids, cowboys and Lost Boys. We were Indians. (A lot.) And we were families; parents and children.  We were rich as a sultan and poor as a mite. We could be anything. We could have anything.

We lived and played simply, but we imagined richly. What could be more enchanting?

Yes, there were bad things. Really, REALLY bad things that happened. Things that require therapy, things I'm angry about even still. But playtime is not one of them.

I am happy today and I know how to have fun. I'm grateful for the hours of beauty that were granted me, that saved me. And I know what kind of childhood I want to give my kids.

There will be love, There will be kisses, and stories and forgiveness and chances and freedom and God, and there. will. be. MUD.

I Am a Struggling Parent, And Why That's Awesome

It took my by surprise. Blew my mind, actually. I was sitting in Relief Society (that's a meeting for women in my church,) and sharing what our family does for Family Home Evening, and the teacher (who I like) told me, in front of the whole class, that I was doing it wrong. There it was, my least favorite phrase: "Wait until they're teenagers."

Least Helpful Words Ever

I hate hearing this because there's either no hope for me or there seems to be a melancholy satisfaction in the speaker when they say it. They expect, quite triumphantly, that I won't do any better than they did. It's irritating, disheartening and unnecessary, but mostly it's false.

That's right, Their assumption is false because it is based on exactly that--assumption. They don't have a full picture of what goes on at home and cannot possibly know how my kids are going to turn out. I haven't the least wish to compare myself to others--as if anyone could do it accurately! Even if parenting were a contest, I wouldn't take my coaching from the spectators. My children, husband and God know best what I do right and wrong. They're in this with me, and they understand the context of my decisions.

"Wait until you have teenagers." The phrase is annoying. Being called out in front of the class was not my favorite. But the biggest problem here is the erroneous idea that there is only one right way to parent; only one right way to have family home evening; only one right way to raise kids who don't fall away. (I'll come back to this falling away thing.)

The Story

There I was, sitting with all these lovely Christian women as they shared personal insights. I shared too. I admitted that I struggle with planning our FHE ahead of time and I mentioned that we typically don't do a treat or activity. I said that we make it as easy and simple as possible, so we can make sure it happens.

Apparently, this is wrong. Because I said that I struggled, they assumed that I wasn't consistent, even though we have Family Home Evening every week. Because I said I struggled, they assumed I wasn't doing a good job. Because I said I struggled, they assumed I was failing and that my children wouldn't learn the gospel.

This is wrong. Assuming is inaccurate, and we need to deal with some definitions here.

What Struggle Is Not

Struggle does not mean inconsistent. Struggle does not mean poor quality. Struggle does not mean neglect. Struggle means it was HARD. That's it. And it is hard.

What Struggle Is

Planning ahead does not come naturally to me. I'm not great planner, but even I know that the lesson comes out better if I prepare even one hour in advance. Planning is a struggle. It does not mean I've given up. In fact, to struggle is the OPPOSITE of giving up. If you gave up, that would be the end of that struggle.

Irritated Rant

And who decided that Family Home Evening had to be done the same way every time and by every family? Who decided that it had to follow a set pattern without variation? I find that boring, unnecessary and impractical. We have only ONE unassailable rule for our parenting and our Family Home Evening: We do what works. What works in one family may not work in another. What works for us now may not work later. Our plans change based on our family's needs. I think this will work forever, because we only do what works.

What I Shared in Class

We keep it simple. Simplicity in parenting is a goal, not an unfortunate by-product of laziness. It's a struggle to make simplicity out of chaos, but it's important to our mental health. I'm busy and can think of no benefit of making myself and everyone else grumpy.

I shared that we don't do treats and activities most of the time. I never said it was an accident, that I didn't feel good about it or that I wanted it to change. Because I don't. We choose not to do a treat because we care about our health and the obesity epidemic. It is by design that we make treats the exception and not the rule. Additionally, sometimes it's a struggle, but I don't want to teach my kids that FHE is just for the treat. I wan't to teach them that we love our family and we love Jesus. We don't always do activities because we don't always have time. This is also a struggle---and why we need simplicity. It doesn't mean that we don't spend time together doing fun things as a family throughout the week. We do. And the lack of constant treats and activities doesn't mean that my kids don't enjoy our family night. They love it. (We cuddle for most of it.)

But, "Wait until you have teenagers." As if that means the kids will rebel and leave the church, and if they do, that means failure.

Practicable Priorities

I think we need to rediscover our priorities here. I'm placing a higher priority on the Who, What and Why, of family and gospel living, and less on the How, When and Where. My priority is not to have a "perfect" family night or a "perfect" family. My priority is not even that the kids won't leave the church. My priority is to love, teach, guide and help them have their own relationship with God. When they can feel God's love, when they know that He is real, when they can talk to Him and receive answers from Him as with a best friend, they will know what to do to be happy. They will do it because they want to. Or, they won't.

It's great to be organized, to plan and have a routine. It's wonderful if you can have an orderly, meeting where everything is planned and done right. However, if your priority is to have a perfectly executed Family Home Evening, you are placing your dependence on what other people will and will not do. This is even more true for kids falling away, or not falling away. If this is your priority, you may be disappointed.

The Illusion of Control

We don't have robot children. We have actual people and whatever their size, they resist being controlled. The older they get, the more they resist. This is partially why some parents dread having teens. There is not now and never will be a guarantee that our children will want the same things that we want or will do the same things that we do. They might, but it's up to them.

Parents have zero control over how their kids will turn out. They can teach, they can persuade, they can love and they can still fail, whatever their definition of failure is. On the other side of the coin, they can be abusive, cruel and neglectful and still have great kids who stay out of trouble and eventually, after much therapy, grow up to be happy, productive members of society. It's not common, but I've seen it happen. (I'm not advocating abuse here.) Generally speaking, the more you try to control, the less you are able to. Luckily for us as parents, we don't have to do the control thing.

Parents have healthy influence over their children's choices, inasmuch as their children want to please their parents. This comes without force and is a product of love and trust, similarly to how we want to serve Christ because of what He has done for us. "We love Him, because he first loved us." (John 4:19.)

I don't want my kids to get into trouble, and I hope they will find joy in the Church as I do. But I will not force them. Indeed, I can think of nothing more disastrous. The greatest gift of the gospel is the Atonement, which gives us our agency. We love agency. We, as humans crave it. I find that the truest part of parenting is that people will do what they choose, and they choose primarily what they want.

Influence And Logic

 My personal parenting philosophy is that kids should be taught as early as possible how to make good decisions on their own, which is one reason to hold a weekly Family Home Evening. I teach them about consequences so they can choose which consequences they want. They will struggle and it is good for them because they're learning self-control. (!!!) I hug my kids and tell them how great they are. I listen to their problems so that they know I'm their ally and not their enemy. Instead of blaming and punishing, we work on solving problems and learning from mistakes. We're flexible with Family Home Evening and other meetings and don't demand a rigid discipline on holding still or attentive listening. They're so young---and, let's face it, adults don't even hold perfectly still or listen all the time. We want them to like it, not be bored or nitpicked.

They do what I ask because they love me. Or, they do exactly as they please because they're human. If it's not irrevocable, I let it go. It's hard. It's a struggle but I trust them to find their way, and they're getting good practice. Will this guarantee that I have super docile teenagers? Probably not. I expect them to push back. I expect not to always enjoy it. But I also believe that they will turn out great and I tell them so. Basically, I follow my heart, and the Spirit.

And I actually love teenagers.

(I was a really nice teenager. Karma, you know.)

The Struggle Is Real

I am struggling though. Sticking to my decisions, following through with my plans, not throwing charity out the window on a stressful day, is difficult. Getting up each day and trying again, trying to better myself and realize my goals, trying to keep it all together and be there for my family, is exhausting. Trying to obey all the commandments and doing volunteer service, plus being patient in affliction and keeping my temper, is tough. Being patient with people when they make mistakes, trying to set a good example for others while not judging them or preaching at them, admitting when I am wrong, can be hard. Cooking three meals a day, while trying to stay on top of the laundry, dishes, pet care, errands, carpool, extracurricular activities, homework and still be willing to drop everything to listen to my son talk about how his day went, is a miracle.

Trying to be a sweet and accepting wife, and hardworking human being, and a clean, well-groomed, social and sane individual, while punctually balancing everything else I need to do, (read, budget,) is tricky. Fitting in a workout and a scripture study, is hard. Yes, I struggle, and that doesn't mean I'm failing. It means I'm a rockstar. It means I get up and do it again.  It means I'm a good mom. It means that nobody can do it better. I've got the Who,Why and What figured out. I will cut me some slack and the How, Where and When.

How I Strengthened My Testimony by SHOPPING!

I know some of you are thinking, "Yaaaayyyyyy!!!"

And isn't it nice that we don't have to ONLY learn from our trials? It just goes to prove that you can learn valuable lessons anytime you're willing.

This story, is a shopping story.

You should understand that I generally find clothes shopping to be, if not a trial, a bit of a challenge. First of all, the fashion world produces shockingly few options for an endowed Latter-Day Saint woman and I'm sure you can relate. Second, I'm 5'11," so clothes that would be perfectly modest on someone else become belly shirts, Daisy D's and miniskirts on me. So, you can imagine my delight the day my favorite department store had a sale on beautiful cap-sleeve dresses that--Get this!--actually came down to my knees! It's true. What a moment.

Fantastic! Now all I had to do was bring the necklines up (fun visit to the fabric store) and I could wear them. I hurried to get one of them ready. My ten-year high school reunion was days away and one of the events was a dressy dinner. Nice timing, right?

Since my sewing machine was 50.5 miles away with my sister, I drove over to borrow it back. We sewed at her house all afternoon and finally I tried it on.(The dress, not the machine.) It worked! (I don't need dressmaking rodents--Cinderella's got nothing on me.)

There was just one problem: I didn't have shoes. Well, not pretty ones, anyway. I only had sensible flats in brown and black, which, if they didn't look particularly bad with the outfit, certainly did nothing to enhance it. You know how you put a bouquet of flowers in in a Snoopy mug and it doesn't look as nice as a vase? Shoes are like that. They didn't make my dress less pretty but the overall effect was wanting. (Details! They make you or they break you. Even Cinderella's Godmother knew this. That's why she changed the drab, flat work shoes into delicate glass slippers. Okay, maybe Cinderella does have something on me. A Fairy Godmother would rock. I hate combing my hair.)

By now you're probably all thinking, "So, buy some shoes, Woman!" Well, it wasn't that simple. Nice shoes range in price from $30, if you're lucky, to $65 on sale, without going into designer brands. I'd already spent a good chunk of money on the dresses, the dinner tickets and various other things moms buy, and didn't have a lot left. It works that way when you're hubby is under employed and you have two kids.

My husband actually told me I should wear my black flats. I started thinking about my school days, dreaded being made fun of, and all the old insecurities came back. I reminded myself that nobody had ever been mean to me in high school. I had, in fact, rather liked it. Even if I didn't have any friends and nobody paid any particular mind to me, at least nobody had been cruel. My fears were all in my head. I told myself that nobody would be dumb enough to say anything about my shoes, and if they did, I could tell them to grow up.

But I still wanted nice shoes. I wanted them for me. I wanted my ensemble finished. Complete. That night, I reverted into a little girl, and prayed for shoes. Shoes I didn't really need. Sparkly ones, with a heel--but not too tall a heel--and in my size (the most common women's shoe size in America and always the first size to run out) and on sale. It was a tall order. Shoes in my size always run out extra fast if they are sparkly, or on sale, or both. I went to bed determined to try my best. There was one day left before the reunion.

The next morning was my day off. I took my children to school, then I went shopping. It was so early that most retail outlets were closed. I tried the neighborhood stores with no luck. They only had more flats. The department stores had nothing in my price range. The discount stores had nothing in my size. Everything was too tall. I was tired, hangry, discouraged and disgruntled when I made up my mind to wear my black work flats. I would be just as merry in plain shoes as in fancy ones.

As I was leaving the mall, I noticed a little store I hadn't planned to visit, and was pretty sure they wouldn't have what I wanted. A miracle, that is. Still, I had a feeling. I felt impressed that I should go and look.

They had plenty of pretty shoes; tall, expensive, tiny, but there was one, (1,) ONE pair on clearance. They were sparkly. They fit me! They had only tiny, one-inch heels. They were $10. I bought them on the spot.

As I came away, I opened my heart to a realization entirely new to me: Heavenly Father cares whether or not I feel pretty. He helped my little girl heart find her dream shoes.

It was such a little thing. It won't change the world, build the kingdom or even save my soul. It was a pair of not-very-comfortable shoes and you might say it didn't really matter.

It mattered to me.

Heavenly Father had answered my prayer, just for me. With all the big prayers that don't seem to get answered, with the marriages that are not saved, the fathers and mothers who never come home, and the millions of people who live in danger and poverty, and all the children who have no shoes at all, a flimsy pair of heels seems petty and trivial. It IS petty and trivial. But it was never about the shoes or shopping. It was about me, knowing that my Father cares about me.

In all of MY unanswered prayers, Why can't he get a job? Why did my babies die? Why are some people so mean? it was as if my Heavenly Father had wrapped his arms around me, saying, "I'm still here. It will be alright. Be patient a little longer." That little thing helped me get through the big things. Maybe it did save my soul.

Book of Mormon prophet Alma explained this principle to his son Helaman. Alma 37:6 reads "Now ye may suppose that this is foolishness in me; but behold I say unto you, that by small and simple things are great things brought to pass; and small means in many instances doth confound the wise."

In the last year, I've started a gratitude box for the "little things," the tender mercies that help us in our trials, that remind us, "I'm still here. It will be alright. Be patient a little longer." Every time I write down a story of unexpected blessings, generous deeds or perfect timing, I feel joy. I feel peace and I know that I'm not alone. The trials seem, for the moment at least, little things.

I'll always be grateful that I obeyed the prompting that led me to my Father's love. Through small and simple things, he taught me that I am valuable to him. We are all valuable to him and he's teaching us all the time. Heavenly Father is there for us. He has always been there for us and he will continue to be. You may learn it while washing socks or driving to work or eating a delicious dinner. I learned it while shopping. May we all learn and know how loved we are. This is my prayer, in the name of Jesus Christ. Amen.

I COULD HAVE Been A Pioneer, For Awhile, Until I Died

Who hasn't asked themselves the question, "Could I have survived crossing the plains? Could I have made it?" Most people say "No way!" but it's more of a sissy response than anything else, because pioneers had to work so crazy hard, from sunup to sundown in all weathers. I think we must be feeling lazy. Maybe we prefer not to exercise all day, every day, just to get our next meal.

It's not that we CAN'T do what the pioneers did; it's that we don't want to. We prefer to keep our cars, running water, flushing toilets and air conditioning. Who's with me? (Aahhh, washing machines...) Streets not covered in horse poop. Music, whenever we want it, as long as we want it, free. Inexpensive, ready-made clothing. Books. Audio books! Telephones! And... Medicine. We'll come back to that.

Are You Crazy? Hello! Wolves! (You Had to Be Smart)

Okay, so you have to be smart and skillful with a gun. You could learn that. Even the pioneers weren't born with frontier skills. They practiced.

I will now explain how it's totally possible to adapt to a pioneer lifestyle and not very difficult, (although distasteful,) to learn old-fashioned skills and habits. For example, my life.

All My Crazy, Loveable Relatives (You HAD to Be Determined)

Honestly, my whole childhood was pretty pioneer. Sure, we had central heating, but Mom always kept the thermostat below sixty degrees Fahrenheit, so I spent a fair amount of time trying to keep warm. We had an air conditioner but it was always broken. Always. Nobody bothered to have it repaired. We didn't always have money for food, so we sometimes went hungry. (Mostly because we refused to do food-storage cooking.) We washed all of our dishes by hand, heated our own water when the water heater was empty and were in our element when the power went out. We dried our clothes on a clothesline in the backyard and my mom even made me haul water by bucket.

We all had to work in the family business and children took on adult responsibilities very early. My brothers were expert at tools and repairs, and all of us learned to handle dangerous chemicals.

My brothers, and I hardly need add, all my sisters, were outdoorsy and learned to handle  knives, axes and firearms. We could all build a fire using matches, cook our own food outdoors, set up tents, find our way in the mountains and even small children could take care of their own cuts and bruises.
Our creative pyro tendencies had plenty of outlet, as we camped often and had a wood-burning stove in the garage.

For play we built forts in the backyard, climbed trees, played with sticks and rocks and sewed our own doll clothes by hand. We spent very little time with study books and mostly ran wild during our free time. (It was awesome!) We explored, built things, rolled down grassy hills, and, if we were lucky, we got to ride a horse. (I liked these things so much that I encourage them in my children.)

And most importantly, we walked, and walked, and walked and WALKED! Pretty pioneer, right?

I still think I would have died on the plains.

Yeah, I've since learned to knit, milk cows and goats, plow a field, make candles (in theory) clean a fish, and I'm sure that I could learn to hitch up and drive a team. There are blacksmith classes, ranches, apprenticeships, pioneer trek reenactments and endless opportunities to "go back in time." It's not about the skills, which I'm convinced we could all learn and even take pride in. But there are at least TWO main differences that keep these modern attempts from ever coming close to the real thing. These are, medical intervention, and a general knowledge of how disease is spread.

Really Poor Health Practices (You Had to Be Careful)

You probably know that immunocompromised people, such as the elderly and babies, should not be near sick people. You probably cook your meat thoroughly, wash you hands after touching animals and avoid contact with mosquitoes, for health reasons. Pioneers didn't know about those things.
Although Louis Pasteur's Germ Theory was in existence before the Mormon pioneers, it was not widely known.

Humans aren't so daft as to not be able to realize that eating rotten meat would make them sick, and they had even learned that it was a good idea to wash before meals (their work made their hands visibly dirty.) However, there were still so many prevailing myths as to what caused contagious diseases (the night air, for instance,) and had very few resources to treat them. Since doctors were hard to come by, every household and neighborhood had to have someone with a medical knowledge. The pity was, doctors didn't have much better medicine than anybody else. They were still bleeding people!

The Doctor Can't Help You (You Had to Be Strong)

Diabetes was a death sentence, as was tuberculosis. Measles, malaria, scarlet fever, influenza and yellow fever were not much better. Clotting disorders and allergies, if detected, could not be treated. Surgery was likely to kill you, as the shock, untempered by intravenous fluids and oxygen and anit-anxiety drugs, might stop your heart. Organ transplants are a recent breakthrough. Blood transfusions were impossible. CPR unknown. Plus, the germs.

Pioneer treks were a real-life example of Darwin's theory. Only the strong survived. This ensured that future generations would continue to be strong, as disease and the elements acted as a natural, if a cruel, weeding agent. If we were called on to live as pioneers again, now, today, I believe that would happen again. And I don't believe I would make the cut, even with our current knowledge of pathogens and better plumbing practices.

The Really Serious Part. Seriously (You Had to Be Lucky)

You'd have to have no complications or genetic disorders (and with the natural selection process having full sway, you probably wouldn't.) Most of us today do, though. My husband and his male family might have died of hernias before their children were grown, possibly before fathering any. My husband would be blind. My son would have no teeth and my own teeth would be so crooked as to have spoilt my looks. (And, if you think that's vain, pledge today to never dye your hair again.)

I'm pretty strong, determined, careful, hopefully smart and generally healthy, but I would have died in childbirth. Without forceps, suction, Pitocin, episiotomy and oxygen, I would have died giving birth to my firstborn, with or without the epidural. My baby was stuck, cord around his neck, and after a 26-hour labor, I was too exhausted to push him out, even if my contractions had not ceased. His heartbeat had stopped, not that pioneers could have know that. And now, instead of dying, I have my sweet boy, going on nine years old, and a little sidekick to boot.

(Historically, women who couldn't survive multiple pregnancies would have to stay abstinent for the rest of their lives. How would you like that? The other option was dying.)

So, you had to be strong, determined, smart, careful AND lucky. I am lucky. Lucky to have modern medicine.

Most pioneer survival characteristics are within our control. So, you probably could be a pioneer, and live. (Even if you did start telling fairytales and singing ballads about toilets and washing machines and antibiotics.) But you probably wouldn't want to.