Mom & Pop Home School

Sunshine takes considerable time brushing her teeth before bed. She evidently likes to use that time to a) admire her reflection in the mirror*, and b) ponder the deep things of the universe. Last night she popped out of the bathroom after a good half hour of “tooth brushing”, and stopped on her way to bed to inform us that she’d figured out which person in a family is the “most important”.

The most important person in the family, she said, is clearly the mother. She offered these three points as evidence:

1. Kids grow inside the mom’s body until they are big enough to live on their own. Without the mom, the kids would not get borned.
2. After the kids are born, when they are babies, the mom’s body makes milk and that is what the babies eat. Without the mom, the babies would not live.
3.  The mom is the one who does the laundry.

As an afterthought, she added that the mom is also the one who cooks the meals.

I found her observations intriguing in light of a recent article from the Wall Street Journal titled “Who Wears The Pants”.  Megan Basham opens her article thusly:

In the past few years, stay-at-home moms have come under fire from some of feminism’s most hard-line mouthpieces. These mothers have been told that they’re letting down the sisterhood, endangering the economy and — most important — undermining their own position. By failing to bring in at least half the family income, it is claimed, they have rendered themselves powerless in their own homes.

I am not certain what she means by “the past few years”. Perhaps she is referring to the past few decades, because I can certainly remember these and similar charges being leveled against my mother, a “stay-at-home mom”, about as far back as I can remember–which would be sometime in the mid 70’s. This sort of commentary, ingested over a long period of time, and contrasted with my own observations in “the real world” has certainly had an influence on my own views of feminism and women’s issues.

I am grateful for the contributions made by the feminist movement toward equality for women. I absolutely assert and sustain a woman’s rights to vote, to own property, to hold public office, to be educated the same as men, and to be paid the same as a man would be for doing the same work. I take pride in the fact that my Mormon heritage is one of support for these rights for women. Much progress has been made for women over the years, and I fully acknowledge the indisputable fact that I and my family are beneficiaries.

However.

There are some things about the perspectives of today’s feminist movement with which I vehemently take issue (that’s a nice way of saying they drive me stark raving bonkers), and this article touches on one of them. (more…)

“Overeducated suburban housewife.”

It’s a phrase I find myself stumbling across in my reading with increasing frequency. It sashays casually into texts ranging from political analyses, to neuropsychological expositions, to examinations of socio-anthropological contributions to modern warfare—not to mention popular women’s magazines and the patronizing blogs of fashionably cynical young feminists. It frequently keeps company with words like “underemployed”, “trapped”, and ”bored”. The sentiment that seems to be lurking behind this rather smug little phrase is that no woman with a semi-functional brain and even half a dram of self-respect would ever allow herself to be incarcerated in a gilded cookie-cutter cage, cut off from respectably cosmopolitan companionship, and subjugated into the humiliating bondage of unpaid domestic servitude. Furthermore, should any strong, sensible, intelligent, articulate woman with a college education actually experience the severe misfortune of waking up one day to discover herself married, jobless, and (horror of horrors!) with the final, absolute degradation of a puling, drooling infant attatched to her sagging breast, it is taken as an undeniable societal certainty that she will go rapidly and rabidly insane under the sheer, grinding weight of tedium and ennui. And why? Because prior to landing herself in the aforesaid unfortunate circumstance, she has experienced, through her education and possibly previous work experience, the extraordinarily resplendent, vastly liberating, offspring-free splendor of intellectual enlightenment that begins at the sagacious feet of institutional erudition and finds its penultimate consummation, it would seem, only through gainful employment.

Oh alas and alak! If only she had suppressed her mental yearnings! If only she had engaged in preparatory training more suited to her ignoble position! Had she merely posessed the perspicuity to maintain that level of blissful, benighted ignorance that is congruous with her plebeian caste, she might have been able to endure such a dismal, prosaic existence, blithely unaware of the cerebral summits to be scaled beyond the periphery of her parsimonious purview.  But no! She has dared to grasp at that which is above her station; she has savored the heady, exotic nectar of scholasticism. Thus overeducated, the pitiable housewife is hopelessly doomed to languish, trapped in her tract home, manacled by her manicured postage stamp landscaping, bound by her boredom, ever envisioning the eden of employment that she might have enjoyed had she only stood sufficiently strong to shake off the shackles of societal expectation or lift the lazy lassisitude into which she has lapsed.

And now, lest I be tempted to indulge in any further alliterative excesses, and in the interest of my valuable time, which despite the scoffing of those who employ the phrase in question I refuse to place upon the public auction block, I shall close by merely stating that I respectfully disagree with the notion that a woman can be “overeducated”, regardless of the career she has chosen. Truth is beautiful in any environment. Knowledge is beneficial to any pursuit. One of the great advantages to a woman of being master of her own time is that she has the opportunity to improve her mind and sharpen her skills as she chooses. She can exercise her talents on behalf of her family, her community, and her country as she sees fit without having to answer to anyone but God and her own conscience. And in my opinion any “housewife” who can think of no better way to fill her time, and no greater contribution she can make than cleaning her house (which, by the way, would have to be done regardless of her employment status) suffers not from an overabundance of education, but from a deplorable lack of creativity and ambition.

On Friday morning I took a deep breath and clambered into our not-so-gracefully-aging ‘85 Chevy pickup truck. This in itself was more of an adventure than it sounds, since the door handles don’t quite work properly, even if you can manage to figure out which of three keys fits the lock and actually manhandle the locking mechanism to turn properly. The seatbelt is a replacement, and looks like an escapee from an airplane factory. It’s hard to adjust, especially after you’ve moved the seat (another feat) far enough forward for someone as short as I am to reach the gas pedal. However, Pop took pity on me and helped me with the mechanics of it all, and then he and the two children stood in the kitchen doorway waving a teary farewell as I roared out of the driveway. Okay, actually, it was the truck that roared, not me, for those of us who take language literally. And it roared extra LOUDLY because a) when it says it’s in D it’s actually in N, and b) it has a very touchy accelerator, and if you push it the tiniest smidgeon too much, it ROARS—especially when it’s in N. But I did manage to get it in drive (halfway between D and 2), and put the proper amount of pressure on the touchy gas pedal, and off I went for a non-airconditioned jaunt to the airport. [I really can drive the thing, I just prefer not to. We only have one vehicle with sufficient seatbelts for an adult and two children, though, and really Pop needed it more than I did at that point, so I got the truck.]

Several hours later, just when I thought I’d have to purchase me a bona fide overpriced airport security-approved strait jacket if I had to stand in one more line, I climbed into a brand-new air-conditioned, sun-roofed, smooth-riding silver Camry rental car in Albuquerque, New Mexico and went in search of my hotel. My weekend was quite a trip—I mean…journey.

I have to admit I was a little nervous about this little excursion. The last time I boarded a plane alone for a ride into that-which-is-completely-unknown I had just turned eighteen and was flying to Savannah Georgia, into the teeth of Hurricane Hugo, headed for a new life at college. Don’t get me wrong, I’ve been on plane trips many times since then. Four plus years of back and forth between college and “home”, and then between “home” and my parents house in the years between college and life as a married woman. And I’ve hied me off to other places with my darling Pop escorting me, giving me that extra boost of confidence that comes with knowing that at least if I got lost I’d be in good company. But those times I was with someone I trusted, or meeting someone I trusted, or going somewhere familiar. This time I was all by myself again. And although I am no longer the painfully shy, inexperienced little thing I was at just-turned-eighteen, in many ways this flight was a trip back to that part of my life, and I found myself disproportionately nervous about the whole thing.

I was in Albuquerque at the invitation of an old friend from college with whom I have been in sporadic contact over the years. (more…)

I spent part of this afternoon cutting out a new dress for Sunshine. I’m hoping to get it sewn up in time for her to wear to church on Sunday, but my goal for today was just to get the pieces cut out. I still have a few pieces to go, since I kept getting interrupted and then had to move the project so I could put supper on, but I think I’ll be able to finish the cutting this evening after the children are in bed.

Sunshine was fascinated by the project. She was excited to be measured for size, and watched with rapt attention as I pulled the tissue pattern pieces from the envelope and started cutting them apart and sorting them. She thoughtfully examined the pictures on the front of the envelope. She could not figure out how I was going to turn that piece of cloth into a dress by cutting it up into bits. The funniest part came when I got out my pins and started pinning the pattern pieces to the fabric. Her eyes got big and she became very concerned. “Mom!” she asked, “are you gonna use PINS?! Mom, pins are pokey! They can poke your fingers! OUCH!” She pantomimed pricking her finger on an imaginary pin. “Mom, I would NOT use pins.”

I explained that the pins hold the pattern and the fabric together so that I know where to cut. If I don’t use pins, the pattern would move while I’m cutting and I would likely cut the fabric in the wrong places. If the pieces are the wrong shape, they won’t go together right to make a dress. Still, she was skeptical and advised me again to avoid those awful pins. Making a dress would be so much easier and more pleasant, she was sure, without the risk of poked fingers.

It occurred to me that life is a lot like that. (more…)

Recently, hundreds of thousands of copies of a DVD called “Jesus Christ/Joseph Smith” have been distributed across the U.S. and Canada. Few of my real-life acquaintances are discussing the DVD—its distribution in our neighborhood seems barely to have been noticed—but I have seen a good bit of chatter about it in newspapers and online, and I’ve decided to weigh in with my two cents.

There seem to be two main camps forming in the discussion. On the one hand, the creators of the DVD describe it as a compassionate comparison of Mormon beliefs with those of “Biblical” Christianity, created out of love for Mormons to invite them to come to the “real” Christ. And it seems that many people who view the video accept this claim at face value. They don’t understand why Mormons are so irritated by the distribution of the DVD. I have seen a number of comments along the general lines of, “Mormons are always dumping books and DVDs about their beliefs on us in an effort to convert us. Now we send out one DVD to them in an effort to get them to leave Mormonism, and they fly off the handle! What hypocrites! What is wrong with Christians openly discussing and debating, and even distributing their points of disagreement with Mormon doctrine?”

Most Mormons who view the DVD, on the other hand, tend to refer to it as hate-filled anti-Mormon propaganda. And the Anti-Defamation League has added it’s voice to the conversation with a press release condemning the DVD as “nothing more than Mormon-bashing.”

So why the dramatic differences in reaction to the same video? There are truly some very legitimate, very important differences between the teachings of the Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints, and the doctrines found in Catholic, Protestant, or Orthodox Christian traditions. Are Mormons really so unwilling to take an honest look at the differences and ask themselves the hard questions, like “which is right?” (more…)

We thoroughly enjoyed conference at our house. I was especially intrigued by Elder Bednar’s parable of the pickle, and enjoyed Elder Ballard’s comments about complaining: “There’s no situation so bad that complaining about it can’t make it worse,” (or something to that effect) and his humorous, “Hit me again, I can still hear you!” (ala Nephi). I also appreciated Elder Oaks’s characteristically blunt comments about marriage and divorce. I’ll post links to transcripts of these and a few other favorites when they’re up on the website, and when I have a few more minutes.

The one downer of conference weekend was that Cricket had another mild seizure. It actually seemed a little less severe than the previous ones, but it does make a mother’s heart beat a little off-kilter for a few years (or seconds, if you go by the clock) until it’s over.

Tonight I decided to try again with my list of a hundred things for which I am grateful. It won’t be the same list as the last one, but what can ya do? So, in no particular order, here goes:

1. Christ’s atoning sacrifice, especially the portions of it that apply to me and to those I love.
2. The continual guidance of the Holy Ghost in my life
3. My life. 
4. My husband, and the fact that after ten years, an increasingly disturbing number of white hairs, and…let’s just say “a few” extra pounds…he says he’d still marry me all over again.
5. My two wonderful children. They go on one line, because how do I pick which one to put first?
6. My parents and the decades of solid example of marriage and family building.
7. My parents-in-law, who raised a wonderful son.
8. My six amazing siblings, their spouses and children. (If I listed everyone separately, I wouldn’t have enough room left on the list for other stuff…lol.)
9. Pop’s brother, his wife, and their adorable daughter.
10. The fact that we live in a time and a place when scripture is available to the general populace.
11. The revelations of God through His prophets as recorded in the Bible, Book of Mormon, Doctrine and Covenants, and Pearl of Great Price.
12. Living prophets and apostles.
13. The freedom to worship as I choose.
14. Temples, and all they represent.
15. A husband who supports our family financially so I can be where I’m needed most.  
16. The fact that I have two eyes, two ears, ten fingers, ten toes, and all other anatomically typical body parts, and that they all function more or less as intended.
17. The fact that the same is more or less true of my loved ones.
18. The lessons I’ve learned through parenting a child with Asperger’s Syndrome. 
19. Daffodils. (more…)

At least compared to my friend. Holy cow! All I had to deal with was a little screaming, anxiety, obsessive compulsive behavior, depression, and whatnot. Piece of cake! I was talking to my friend yesterday evening. Her father-in-law came over to help them put up trim molding in their basement that they’re finishing, and despite years of working “in the industry”, the poor man cut his thumb. Off. All the way down to the wrist. In her basement. And when the ambulance came and rushed him to a hospital, they couldn’t find a doctor who thought it could be reattatched. So they rushed him to another hospital in the next city over, where my friend used to work for a doctor who knew a doctor who she thought would do it, if only she could get in touch with him. But the doc she used to work for wasn’t answering her pages. And then they got to the hospital and discovered that, miracle of miracles, the doc she thought could do the surgery was THERE, and on call. And after 13 hours of surgery, the thumb has been reattached. It won’t ever be the same, but at least it’s on there. And then my friend had to go home and clean up the blood. Oh. My. Goodness. What a fabulous weekend I had! I’m such an ingrate for even feeling sorry for myself. What was I thinking?

Also, my other friend’s whole family has the flu. Bad. And one of her sweet girls, Sunshine’s friend “Birdie” also has strep throat, which has recently developed into scarlet fever. I AM SUCH A WHINER!

Have you ever done something you later regretted? Yeah, me too. Lots of times. And, in fact, I rather suspect that I will regret what I am about to do now. I’m going to muse in a political direction. Now, ok, it’s something I do with a fair level of regularity, but this time I’m going to do it in print. On the web. Where people will know about it. And not only that, but I am going to mix a small amount of religion in with my politics. Aack! But as this will be my first ever-so-very-public foray in that direction, I will keep it brief and fairly innocuous.

I have been reading somewhat about candidates for the next presidential election. And I have to say that some of the articles I’m reading are reasonably good, some are pretty vacuous, and some are downright aggravating. For example, too many articles just assume that because I am female, Hillary Clinton has my vote all sewed up (so to speak). Well, thanks just the same, but that person does NOT represent my views, as a woman, on much of anything. In fact, I would probably vote for just about anyone else with a pulse. And frankly, I’d seriously consider voting against her even if her opponent actually lacked even a pulse. So, no. I will not be voting for Hillary Clinton merely because our chromosomal compositions have certain characteristics in common.

Other reporters make the assumption that because I am Mormon, I will be voting for Mitt Romney. Frankly, I haven’t made up my mind about him yet, but really I’d like to make up my mind my very own self, please, and not just vote that way because some ignorant reporter thinks (despite masses of evidence to the contrary) that we Mormons have no brains, and we’ll just vote as we’re told (by the press, of course, my church has never told me who to vote for). To be perfectly honest, I have some reservations about all of the presidential candidates, Mr. Romney included. I will say, though, that I do feel a slight (if somewhat ironic) admiration of the fact that even though this gentleman has not even been elected yet, he has been able to do something that no other politician has managed in a very long time; he has been able to find common ground between the extreme right-wing wacko conservative religious fanatic Bible thumpers, and the extreme left-wing hedonistic socialist environmental freaks. In an unprecedented demonstration of good will, common decency, mutual tolerance, and general bon ami, these two groups have come together in spite of their natural enmity to unitedly declare that yes indeed, Mormons are evil. At last. Something they agree upon. And if Romney can bring these two warring tribes to the table and find common ground, the sky’s the limit when it comes to bringing warring factions together abroad. Perhaps we are about to see the dawning of a great new age of international diplomacy. Now if only the press could manage to get their facts straight when it comes to reporting on Mormonism. But alas, that, it seems, would truly take a miracle.

We’ve been….ahem….experiencing “technical difficulties”. If there are missing comments, or subsriptions that have evaporated, or whatever, please accept my appologies. Here’s what happened:

The guy who runs the server on which my site is hosted (aka Pop–which is why I have my very ownst domain etc., btw) decided to upgrade servers. This involved a lot of technical maneuvering, and switching accounts from one server to another, with upgraded software and who knows what all. I don’t pretend to understand it, I just smile and nod. Happily, there were no problems moving his other clients’ sites (who are REAL clients, not just his gorgeous, talented, and otherwise amazing wife). Also no problem moving another blog which was set up, as far as we could tell, in exactly the same way as mine. But my blog wouldn’t move the database for some reason. It also would not export the database in any format, the blasted thing. So it spent a couple of days sort of half switched over, but not functioning properly. Then he tried switching it all the way back to the old server so I could at least access the posts and copy and paste them by hand or something. And then for some reason the database DID transfer over to the new one, but the design got lost in the shuffle. I told him that if the database part was working I wasn’t too concerned about the design part, especially since I’ve been considering a design change anyhow. So he slapped on a nice pre-made design, which I like, btw, but it’s not all that personal. And off we go again. But other than my hit count (which was over 2000, and made me feel ever so popular) I’m not sure yet exactly what the rest of the casualty list might look like. It sounds as though I lost at least one of Susy’s comments (sorry!).

The funny thing is (more…)