In The Beginning -- Intro to a New Blog

There's a verse in the Book of Mormon that I have read more times than I care to count. It's the first one -- the one I find myself reading every time I feel motivated enough to start a new study of the Book of Mormon.

It says, "I, Nephi, having been born of goodly parents..."

And yes, I wrote that without having to look it up. I think we all know that part by heart.

But it just so happened that one time when I was reading this verse, I stopped there. And I wondered -- what is a goodly parent? It's the kind of parent I would like to be, whatever it is. Of course, this happened at a time when I had already been pondering deeply about what I should be doing as a parent -- what things I should be teaching my children so that they can reach their divine potential.

I thought about what a good father Lehi was, and then my mind flashed forward to other good parents in the Book of Mormon -- Jacob, Alma, Helaman, Mormon, etc.. And then an idea was born. In all of my starting-the-Book-of-Mormon momentum, I made a decision -- that I would study the lives of these people, looking for what it was that made them such good parents. What did THEY teach their children? What did THEY do as parents that can help me in my own plight?

I didn't get very far, but I showed it to my mom. Like any good mom, she told me it was brilliant, and then she read from it in her Stake Conference talk and passed out copies to her friends. My dad was similarly encouraging and told me that I should send it in to the Ensign (like any good dad, right?). But considering that it isn't finished, and considering that it is long, boring, and somewhat repetitive, I decided I'd just blog about it instead. Because that's what blogs are all about.

Now we'll have to see if I can ever finish typing it all...

The Natural Woman

Due to certain mercurial circumstances, I recently purchased a few new pairs of tights for my daughter. This morning as we were preparing for church, I presented her with one of these -- a sparkly black pair. On seeing them, her eyes lit up, and she oohed several times in her helium voice. Then she exclaimed, "Oh mom! I'm so happy! My friends at church will see these and wish that they had tights just like mine."

In my head, I heard this C.S. Lewis quote -- "Pride gets no pleasure out of having something, only out of having more of it than the next man." And it hit me like a brick wall. How in the world did my 5-year-old learn the art of wanting her friends to be jealous of her? Hopefully not from me (because of COURSE I am the most humble person I know...)

More importantly, though, as I considered how "universal" pride can be, I was reminded of a question that I have really only had since having daughters.

How does one help girls to have a positive self-image, and an appreciation for beauty and femininity (i.e., getting them to let me put them in a dress and actually comb their hair) while helping them to realize that looks aren't everything and that inner beauty is what counts the most?

I think I have nightmares about messing this up in either direction. Either I end up with a snotty, image-obsessed, "pretty" girl, or I end up with a nose-picking, matted-hair girl who laughs at fart jokes. And frankly, neither one seems very attractive.

Am I Just Doing it Wrong?

My 3-month-old baby had 5 clothing changes today, all because of diaper blow-outs. This is not a singular occurrence either. I have tried different brands of diapers, different ways of fastening the diapers, changing her more often, and everything I can think of. But nearly every bowel movement ends in a clothing change. And that happens several times a day.

You'd think that after five kids I would have figured out the whole diaper thing enough to keep this from happening so much. Perhaps it's a hint for me to buy stock in the stain-removal companies? Or just an indicator of how much my daughter loves to have her clothes changed?

Secretly I am afraid that I just missed that instruction somehow. Was there a "How-to-put-a-disposable-diaper-on-your-baby" class that I missed? Is it because I never took those childbirth classes they offered when I was pregnant?

Or maybe it's just life with a newborn?

Thank goodness I have a washing machine again!

Arnold Lobel Wrote Some Good Ones

I just finished reading Rules, by Cynthia Lord. In short, it is a book about a 12-year-old girl, Catherine, who has an autistic brother, David -- a definite must-read for any parent of a child with disabilities, especially if that child has siblings.

The thing that made me laugh, however, was this. In the book, a secondary theme is about how David often quotes from the Frog and Toad series, by Arnold Lobel. As the story puts it, "If you need to borrow words, Arnold Lobel wrote some good ones." And the book even ends with a Frog and Toad interchange.

So I had to smile when, on finishing the book, I stood up to turn off the light, and I passed the book my mildly autistic son had been reading -- Frog and Toad Together, by Arnold Lobel.

And that says it all.

Happy Birthday Sis!

Today is my sister's birthday! I hope she knows how much I love and miss her!

One of my favorite memories is from when I first found out that she was born, and that it was a girl. I remember being SO excited to have a sister (after having two brothers...) that I jumped up and down, and I screamed and hugged my grandma, who was there watching us.

I also remember giving her shoulder-back rides when she was just a toddler. And when she first started learning to talk, we would ask her all sorts of yes/no questions, and we would laugh and laugh at her answers, which were somehow always opposite of the REAL answer. (like, "are you a pig?" yes. "are you a house?" yes. "are you a girl?" no.)

Mostly I am just glad that she is my sister. Happy Birthday Tammy!

Quote of the Day

"I wish we had a hundred kids. Then we could have a bus."

and for the record, I'm not the one who said it.

Irony

I have decided that the process of serving dinner emphasizes one of the most ironic things of motherhood.

You see, I like the temperature of my food to be hot -- steaming hot -- hot enough that if I am not careful I will burn off the precious taste buds on my tongue.

But more often than not, things go something like this: I put it on the table. We have the prayer. I dish up the food for my starving and impatient kids. I cut up the food for the littlest ones. I then spend a lot of time trying to COOL DOWN their food, by adding ice cubes, blowing on it, or putting it in the fridge.

By the time their food is cool enough for them to eat it on their own, guess what -- mine is cold too.

Sometimes I try leaving the grown-up food on the stove until the kid food is cooled down, but usually, I just have to throw my whole plate in the microwave.

But food just tastes DIFFERENT when it comes from a microwave.

So how in the world is a mom supposed to have hot food, and the kids have cold food, and still have everyone eat together.

Maybe I just have to wait a few years until they've burned off enough taste buds to really appreciate hot stuff.