This Is My Dream!

This is my dream! Ever since I was a small girl, I wanted to grow up to be a wife and a mother. I played "house" with my friends and my dolls and I always had, like, a million imaginary children to take care of! I dreamed of my life looking just like this picture! I'd wear a house dress and an apron, my kids would be perfectly groomed, I'd have my meals precisely planned out and ready on time, my husband would go to work every day, come home and greet me with a kiss in the kitchen, then we'd sit down to dinner as a family and enjoy the evening right there in our own home!

I know I could  have that if I tried hard enough. I could gradually transform my wardrobe from jeans and t-shirts to house dresses, and I think I just might. I may or may not wear heels inside the house while I cook, but that's just because I really love bare feet and I think shoes get the carpet dirty. :) I already have a few aprons, and I do wear them on occasion! I have been on and off with meal planning ever since I was married. I am currently on and doing great! My husband does go to work every day and often greets me with a kiss when he gets home, though it's not always in the kitchen.

Unfortunately, life is too busy to always sit down together to dinner and enjoy the evening at home, and that's something that just comes from living in the year 2017 when the world says, "Do more! Be involved in more!" Of course, I could draw back from all of that as well if I really wanted to! I just really love being social though, and so do my kids, so I think I'll let that one slide just a little.

My kids will probably never be perfectly groomed, so I'll just forget about that one! :D

What I don't understand, and probably never will, is how some women can look at this picture and find offense. It just looks so loving and so caring and so warm. They're all happy! I don't see a woman who hates her life and hates taking care of her family and feels like she is imprisoned by her role as a wife and mother. She is smiling and happy and enjoying being a beautiful, talented woman!

I have watched and listened as these "feminists" took to the streets in protest the last couple months. I am disgusted at the way they treat themselves and the way they "represent" women.

Though they don't. Real women don't destroy their beautiful bodies to try to make a point. They don't act filthy and disgusting and vulgar. They don't turn themselves into men. They don't engage in improper activities, and especially not in public. As I've watched, I have just sat and wondered, "why?" My whole life I have dreamed of becoming this girly, happy homemaker, and I wonder, did they dream their whole lives of becoming what they have turned themselves into? I imagine when they were small, like me, they played with dolls and wanted to be wives and mommies. I can't imagine they dreamed of destroying the image of a woman by shaving their heads, protesting in the streets, and acting like there is no sanctity in life and marriage. I don't know what happened and why they've chosen the lives they've chosen, but I think it's sad.

To me, being a woman is a blessing and a privilege. I don't know why more women don't take advantage of the respect so many men are willing to give a woman. Instead, they demand that the men treat them as equals. They don't want a gentleman to open the door because that makes them feel worthless (so they say). They don't want a gentleman to give them their coat because that makes them feel weak. They want to be tough and manly and in charge of everything! They want to have it all and do it all and be completely independent. I hope there are some real ladies left in the world when my boys are old enough to get married, because I'm raising them to be gentlemen who open doors and offer coats!

Personally, I'm grateful for the respect of my husband and so many other men in my life. I'm grateful my husband works hard to provide for our family so I can stay home and play "house." I'm grateful for parents who taught me that being a woman is a blessing, and especially for a mom who taught me how to cook and clean and care for children. I'm most grateful for God for sending me to earth as part of His plan, and for offering me the blessings of this life, and giving me the family I always dreamed of, even though it wasn't on my timeline and had some hiccups along the way.

And someday soon when my wardrobe is switched over to '50s style and I have a '50s style kitchen, I'll post a picture of my own perfection!

At a Crossroads and Unable to Go the Right Way

I've been sitting at this crossroads in my life for many years now. There are two paths ahead of me. One is the right path. The other is the wrong path. The problem is that both are painful!! I've started down either one at different times over the last few years, only to turn around and come back to the crossroads. I'm just sitting on the fence, where it's safe. Eventually, I have to go down the right path, but it's just so hard.

Every time I convince myself that the wrong path is actually the right way to go, I am stopped, dead in my tracks, with God practically screaming at me, "Are you serious?! This again? Stop it! Turn around! And get back on track!" I make all these excuses and come up with my own "Mortal's Guide to Making Dumb Decisions" to make myself feel better, but it never works. All of my "rational" reasons why to choose the wrong path are never really that rational. They do make sense, but the right path makes so much more sense when you look at the final destination.

I've been thinking a lot about this crossroads I'm at. I've been pondering whether or not to just close my eyes and run the wrong way until I'm on a good path again, and safe from all the scary monsters on both paths. I've wondered if I should just do it because they're both hard and painful, but I am in more control when I choose the wrong way.

Then General Conference happened. I was listening intently and taking lots of notes when President Monson stood up to speak. He only spoke for a few minutes, but his message was clear, and God sent it just for me: "May we choose the harder right instead of the easier wrong."

And so, a few days later, I started down the hard path. The right path. It's been like a week and already I've hit some serious bumps in the road, but I'm not going back there. I'm not going back to the crossroads. My fence-sitting days are over! My final destination is up there, and there are clear skies ahead. I just have to get through the mud and the muck in order to experience what God has in store for me. I'm not sure what monsters are waiting in the mud and the muck, and I'm not sure I really want to find out, but I have a lot of people and angels that are on the sidelines just waiting to help me get through it.

Off I go!

I Believe in God.

I believe in God. It's important that you understand that because it's my belief in God that determines a lot of my other beliefs and decisions in life. If you don't believe in God, you may not agree with anything else I write here, so don't act all defensive and try to make your point against me, okay? Thanks! Also, if you do believe in God, but still don't agree with me, that's fine, too. I've got plenty of love in my heart, even for people who don't think I'm awesome.

Because I believe in God, I believe that He hears my prayers. I believe that He knows the intent of my heart. I believe that when I pray to God, he sends answers in various forms. Sometimes it's a thought that comes to my mind. Sometimes it's a circumstance that takes place in my life. Sometimes it's a scripture passage that I read. Sometimes it's even a thought that someone posts on Facebook! Answers come in many ways, and I feel like I'm at least in tune enough to take those answers for what they are. I don't believe in coincidences. Just divine intervention. :)

It is because of my belief in God and my willingness to pray that I know the Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-Day Saints is the true church. I believe that it is Christ's church here on the earth and that He gives us commandments and guidelines to live by, and it's for our own good. I believe that we have a latter day prophet who guides the church. I believe that God the Father and Jesus Christ speak to our prophet, Thomas S. Monson. When President Monson speaks, whether I understand the 'whys' or 'hows,' I listen. I listen because I sustain him. I support him and I believe that what he tells me is coming directly from God.

I also base a lot of my decisions on what I feel. I believe in Baptism by immersion and in the laying on of hands for the Gift of the Holy Ghost. I believe that a lot of what I feel is the Holy Ghost telling me what's right and what's wrong. I do this because there are so many outside voices. The world wants to get logical and "fair" about every issue and every idea. The truth is that life is not fair. Life is not logical. The one truth I have to hold on to is that God is in charge. He does what He sees fit, and in some situations, He has to let go and allow His children (that's me and you) to face the consequences of nature, of our choices, and sometimes even of the choices of others. That is life.

So when someone asks me why I believe a certain way, or they try to sway my decisions and my view point, I will often just listen for fun. I say that because I don't want to get in a big argument over some things, but I also don't want to agree with what they're saying. I feel, remember? And if what that person is saying doesn't feel right to me, I truly believe that God is sending me that feeling through the Spirit, and for a specific reason.

I believe in God. That belief is what makes me who I am. That belief is what gets me through my hardest days. He has never given up on me. He has trusted in me. I trust in Him.

I Thought for a Moment That I Didn't Have a Visiting Teacher. Then It Dawned on Me.

I was thinking the other day about how I'm an awful visiting teacher. I'm not even sure when I went last, and I was feeling a little guilt over it. It's definitely been a LOOOONG time, and the sisters I visit are probably sitting in their homes, wondering why nobody loves them. And it's all my fault.

My thoughts wandered to my visiting teachers. I couldn't think of who they were. I figured that because I'm such a poor visiting teacher, God cursed me with awful ones as well. I don't remember a visit, I don't remember a phone call, and I don't remember hearing anyone say, "I'm your visiting teacher" for a very long time.

Then it dawned on me. I DO have a visiting teacher. I felt like an idiot for a minute because Sidney has been the best visiting teacher in the world, and how could I forget about her? I actually hadn't forgotten about her. I just forgot what her official title was supposed to be. I consider her a friend, a neighbor, and a step-in-mom. So I wasn't cursed after all! In fact, I have the best kind of visiting teacher there is. She is a friend. She is a confidant. She is someone who I look up to. Someone who has been there for me. A shoulder to cry on. Someone who gives me advice. Someone who has shared in my successes and my failures. We keep in touch, send messages over Facebook, text, email, visit in my home, and visit in the driveway. She knows my kids. Although I've never met them, I feel like I know hers.

She is someone who I consider dear. I have never felt like a project. I have never felt like she is trying to get her numbers in for the month. I have truly felt loved. I have felt accepted. I have felt cared for. I have felt like I have a true friend.

And that is why I forgot that she was my visiting teacher. Sounds backwards, but I forgot because she is so fantastic! She doesn't act like the typical visiting teacher that you would think of. The one who calls once a month to set up an appointment, who makes it to the appointment ten minutes late, makes awkward small talk, finishes with a synopsis of the message for the month, and then excuses herself. We are in touch all month long. We know each others quirks and we know each others struggles. We know how to make each other laugh and when each other's birthdays are.

We're not the same age. We aren't in the same stage in life. We don't have the same job or similar callings in the church. We are simply sisters in God's Kingdom, and for that I am grateful. ThAnK yOu Sidney for being the very best kind of visiting teacher there is! (And yes, I stole your Facebook photo. :) Hope you don't mind. Hehe...)

Are You Bored? Have I Got an Idea for You!

I thought I better officially let the world know that my boys have their own blog. Children after my own heart, really. It's super cute and follows their activities this summer as we have banned video games completely! If they get bored, I've got plenty of ideas! Check it out at Video Game Extinction!

I think all the WSU Suicide Walkers are finally gone for the summer. I think.

You see those people I've circled to the left? I call them the WSU Suicide Walkers. They are the students who park in front of my house, or even live close to me on the West side of Harrison Boulevard, and dart out in the middle of traffic on a super busy road to get to WSU on the East side. They'll wait for a gap in traffic on their side, run to the middle (you know, into the turning lane that I want to be in), and wait until there is another (very short) gap on the other side, when they start running to the other side. Depending on where they cross, there is sometimes not even a turning lane to stand in, so they balance on the line that goes down the middle of the road, between traffic that is often traveling at 55 mph. Weirdos.

I have seen more than my share of these WSUSWs almost get smashed by a speeding car. In the eight years I have lived here, I surprisingly haven't witnessed any deaths, but I just hold my breath waiting for it. I'm actually quite afraid that I'm going to hit a WSUSW. There have been way too many times that I have literally been inches from them, and they just don't seem to care. Sometimes I talk to them from within the walls of my car and tell them from out of earshot that they may not make it through the day. Sometimes I tell them they're really dumb. And then sometimes I realize they are people that I know. And then I apologize for being rude. :)

Oh, and by the way, if they walked one block North or one block South, they would be at an intersection with a light AND a crosswalk. Perhaps they've never heard of those, so I'll give them a little credit. However, something interesting to point out is that right where the WSUSWs cross, there is a sign posted that says something like "Do not cross. Please use crosswalk" with an arrow that points toward the intersection. But maybe they can't read, either. After all, these are college students.

So, it is now summer. Their finals were all a few weeks ago, and seeing as though none of them got hit by a car, I assume they are all peacefully tucked in bed every morning, rather than trying to commit suicide on Harrison. For the most part, there aren't too many WSUSWs during the summer, although there are some on occasion. And since my kids' summer vacation is coming up soon, I also won't be driving that route every single morning and afternoon, so there's even less of a chance that I'll hit someone in the coming months. It was never my goal to kill a college student in my lifetime, so I'm pretty happy about that.

To all the WSUSWs: Just know that sometimes we can't see you until you are literally inches from our car windows, and one of these days that may just be too late. I can't tell you how many times I have slammed on my brakes for you, driven to the next street because you were standing in my turning lane, or swerved into another lane so as to avoid helping you with your suicide attempt. It really is stressful and I really am tired of it.

If I were a cop, I would totally give you a jaywalking ticket.

I Love Mother's Day Because It's One of the Only Days That My Kids Forget

All day, and all week really, I have heard the comments about how some mothers hate Mother's Day. They feel like they don't live up to the idea of what a mother should be. They hear the talks in church about how perfect everyone else's mothers are, and they feel like they aren't good enough. They don't make the mark! They are failures!! And that is why they choose to loathe the holiday that is meant to celebrate them.

I, on the other hand, just can't do it. I can't hate it. I know I don't make the mark. I know I'm not good enough. I know I'm a failure. But that is exactly why I love today. I love Mother's Day because it's one of the only days that my kids forget.

Today my kids forgot that when Brigham was three years old and got a broken arm, I told him to stop whining. When he slipped out of the car (it was in park, of course), and landed in the gutter full of rain water, I snatched him up only to get mad at him for goofing off and falling in the gutter in the first place. I then hauled him into my mom's house, plopped him on the couch, ripped off all his wet clothes, and wrapped him in a blanket so his clothes could dry. All the while, he was whining that his arm hurt. "Of course it hurts," I told him. "You fell on the cement!" Twenty minutes into the whining when I realized his arm was swollen more than normal, so I took him to the ER to have it x-rayed, only to discover that it was broken, I felt like a moron. I felt like the awful mother you hear about on TV. I still remember how horrible I felt at that moment. I still feel guilty over it. But today, they have forgotten. They have been telling me how kind I am. That I'm the nicest mother in all the world. That I take such good care of them all the time. And that is worth celebrating Mother's Day for.

Today my kids forgot that for the last three months, I have sent them to school in holey jeans. I'm pretty sure it's against the school clothing code or whatever, but I haven't put patching them at the top of my priority list. Obviously, I haven't put purchasing new ones at the top, either. So, they have trudged to school in holey jeans. Some with old patches that have fallen off, some that have five inch strings hanging from them, and some that have clearly been cut a little larger with scissors (for a more dramatic look, maybe? I'm still not sure why that happened). I watch them skip into the school every morning with smiles on their faces and think, Today's the day. I'm going to patch all their jeans. But I never do. There's always something that comes up. So the next morning when they say, "But these ones have holes in them!" and I say, "Wear them anyway!" the process starts all over again. I feel embarrassed every morning when all the rich moms pull up with their perfectly-put-together children who shuffle into the school in their ironed polo shirts and khaki pants that don't just not have holes, but don't have patches, either. But today, they have forgotten. They have been telling me what a great seamstress I am. That I make them the best clothes and that I buy the coolest outfits for them. And that is worth celebrating Mother's Day for.

Today my kids forgot that the last two batches of brownies I have made have been crunchy on the outside, gooey on the inside. And not the good kind of crunchy on the outside, gooey on the inside. Instead, they are practically burnt on the outside, runny on the inside. I don't know if I'm losing my touch, if I keep making the recipe wrong, if there's something wrong with my oven, or if I'm just not meant to have yummy brownies, but they definitely haven't been very tasty. The kids often come to the dinner table and complain about my dinners, saying that it looks gross, tastes gross, or is just gross all around. They hate noodles one day, chicken another, and fruit the next. I end up eating leftovers for days by myself because they all claim to not like the food I make. I'll be honest, I feel a little sorry for myself on those days. I think, this is too a good meal, and wonder what is wrong with the boys. Looking in the refrigerator tonight, I see three Tupperware dishes full of the food I get to eat by myself this week. But today, they have forgotten. They have been telling me what a great cook I am. They love me because I make them breakfast, lunch, and dinner!! My French toast was so great this morning that they had leftovers for lunch (over dinosaur chicken nuggets, no less). And that is worth celebrating Mother's Day for.

Today my kids forgot that I am not really a Queen. Although I'm a drama-Queen sometimes, I don't have anyone fooled. But today, they treated me like the Queen I aspire to be. They gave me presents and compliments. They held my hand more often. They gave me more kisses than normal. They were more obedient that they usually are. They were absolutely adoring, respectful little gentlemen.

So the next time I fail to offer the right amount of sympathy, the next time my kids look like orphans in public, and the next time they all hate my cooking, I'm going to remember that Mother's Day is coming. I'm going to remember that they won't always remember, and that they love me for me, and are probably the only 3 people on this planet who can truly offer that to me. And that is worth celebrating Mother's Day for.