Author Archives: rebecca

Teasing

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The other night, I was in the other room while Paul and Daddy laughed and played. After a little while, Paul came in to find me.

“Mommy,” he said in a toddler whine. “Daddy stole my nose!!”

“Tell him to give it back,” I responded, trying to surpress a laugh.

From the other room, I could hear Paul repeating this request to Daddy. Daddy, being the joker that he is, said, “I can’t. I ate it.”

I went in a moment later to see Paul with his definitive sad face (lip protruding as far as it would go) and the saddest little look on his face. Apparently, this was pretty serious.

I let him steal my nose too, and all was well. Still, I’ll never forget that little toddler tattle-tale whine: “Daddy stole my nose!!”

Joy in Womanhood

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I’ve written a dozen of posts in my head and I’ve started a few posts for this site and yet somehow they never get posted! Any internet time I’ve found has gone to my public blog, where for many reasons, I am not going to post my innermost personal thoughts. Here are some concepts that I’ve been pondering for a long time, and much like all the other things I’ve wanted to share lately (and never have), it involves my testimony.

Lately, I’ve felt like rejoicing in being a woman. As a woman, I know my role and it is a wonderful one. In so many places in the world, I am told that I am the same as a man, that accepting (and purporting) a gender-specific role to be a nurturer is a demeaning thing for women, and that women should “aim higher” and not be limited or taught to be any different than men. I wholeheartedly disagree, especially that ignoring female-specific gender roles is “aiming higher.” Women, and girls, should nurture gender-specific roles.

As a woman, I have a specific “meaning, purpose, and direction.” I delight in that knowledge. My favorite line from the Relief Society Declaration is that I “find nobility in motherhood and joy in womanhood.” That I do, and I delight in the opportunity to declare to other girls and woman around the world that such roles are divine.

Some would say that I am an anti-feminist by those statements. On the contrary, I consider myself a feminist in every sense of the word. See these definitions (from Merriam-Webster.com):

Feminist: (1) the theory of the political, economic, and social equality of the sexes; (2) organized activity on behalf of women’s rights and interests

Women should be politically, economically, and socially equal to men. Whether a woman runs for office, votes for office, buys a house, opens a bank account, or enters a workplace or community environment, she should not be discriminated against and limited. However, women should not be the same as men.

I wish to shout from the rooftops that being a womanly woman is the greatest thing in the world, that being different from men is a wonderful thing. I am a part of the world’s largest woman’s organization, and it certainly supports women’s interests: Relief Society. We women should nurture our own abilities to nurture, for it makes the world so much stronger. Women that know their divine roles are women that truly do “find joy in womanhood.”

In reading over the talks from the last conference, I have found that so many of them are about mothers, motherhood, women’s roles, being a parent, and teaching the rising generation. I loved Sister Beck’s talk from the last general conference, and I find myself reviewing it often.

A good woman must constantly resist alluring and deceptive messages from many sources telling her that she is entitled to more time away from her responsibilities and that she deserves a life of greater ease and independence. But with personal revelation, she can prioritize correctly and navigate this life confidently.

Women are not, therefore, entitled to “me” time, although of course we all need to keep our sanity. We live in an “entitlement” culture; it’s not the Lord’s way. His way is to serve, enduring to the end. And then Sister Beck quotes Sister Eliza R. Snow in a quote that I should frame and put over my bathroom mirror:

Women should be women and not babies that need petting and correction all the time. I know we like to be appreciated but if we do not get all the appreciation which we think is our due, what matters?

The sister I visit for visiting teaching pointed out that women who are abused and/or neglected by her husbands should not feel that they are in the wrong. And as I mention above, women do need to keep sanity and being stranded in a house with, say, a few screaming children for five days a week definitely would drive the best of us insane. But in my case, where I have a husband who dotes on me and takes very good care of me, helps out around the house, and otherwise is the most wonderful man alive, I certainly need this reminder. I get plenty of “me” time.

I admit that I sometimes act like a baby. I don’t want to cook dinner yet again. I don’t want to change yet another poopy diaper. (Yes, after two months of being partially toilet trained Paul is back to no toilet and all diapers.) I don’t want to be the one that is responsible. I want to be coddled and I want someone else to do the dirty work so I can get back to my book (oops, did I say that outloud?!).

But the fact is, I delight in being a mother. I sincerely do “find nobility in motherhood.” I delight in cuddling my son and reading him stories and taking him on walks. I can’t get one (the fun stuff) without the other (the responsibility). Our husbands choose jobs they like, but those jobs aren’t always fun. It is work. And we sure do like payday.

Anyway, this weekend, as I ponder all the responsibilities I have and the ways in which I want to better magnify this eternal job of mine (that is, being a mother), I want to rededicate myself to doing the small, sometimes unpleasant stuff with the nobility of motherhood in mind. Changing those diapers and cleaning the toilets is a part of that noble task.

“Women should be women and not babies that need petting and correction all the time…”

The great thing, but also the not so great thing, about not posting on this site very frequently is that few are going to read this or comment. I like knowing that I can post my testimony in a place where I know it isn’t going away, for my strong feelings of delight at being a woman aren’t about to change. I’d love to hear from you if you are still reading this blog, although please note that I don’t intend to debate women’s roles or feminism in general. I am sharing my testimony of my role and my love of the Lord Jesus Christ.

What do you most love about womanhood and motherhood? What talks about motherhood from the last general conference stood out to you?

We are beloved spirit daughters of God,
and our lives have meaning, purpose, and direction.

As a worldwide sisterhood, we are united in our devotion
to Jesus Christ, our Savior and Exemplar.

We are women of faith, virtue, vision, and charity who:

  • Increase our testimonies of Jesus Christ through prayer and scripture study.
  • Seek spiritual strength by following the promptings of the Holy Ghost.
  • Dedicate ourselves to strengthening marriages, families, and homes.
  • Find nobility in motherhood and joy in womanhood.
  • Delight in service and good works.
  • Love life and learning.
  • Stand for truth and righteousness.
  • Sustain the priesthood as the authority of God on earth.
  • Rejoice in the blessings of the temple,understand our divine destiny,and strive for exaltation.

Mother’s Day (2 1/2 Year) Pictures

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On Mother’s Day (almost two months ago already), I dressed Paul in the suit I’d found at a thrift store and took some pictures of my adorable little man. Yes, this suit is far too big. I’ve put it away for another year or so until it will fit him properly. But I did get some pictures!

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Paul playing a toot-a-roo.

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ETA (Dec 2011): Post has been post-dated to reflect date pictures were taken (originally posted July 2010)

Paul’s Reading

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I like to read and I’ve been wanting to make reading with Paul a special project, so I decided to read 1000 different books with Paul before he starts kindergarten. I started last December, and I though it would be hard. 1000 book sounds like a lot! But just a few months later, we’re almost to 300. It’s so easy to add a few more picture books to the library bag when we’re there, and Paul has loved going through all the books and finding new favorites. We read most books (of those 300) more than three times before returning them to the library, and a handful each week are read more than a dozen times. He loves to read!

I’ve been taking lots of videos of Paul reading his books. Here are just two. The first is the very first one I took, back in January, when I found him, unexpectedly, emptying the library bag to read the books himself. Paul is reading an opposite book and Little Boy by Allison McGhee. That second book refers to a big box on each page, and I think I can hear Paul saying “big box.” Video taken January 25, 2010.

And then, here is my absolute favorite video. Paul is reading himself Chicka Chicka Bom Boom. He loves the pages at the beginning and end with the letters. And you’ll notice his sensitivity to others: he kisses the letters better when they get ouchies. His favorite letter is blacked-eyed P. He also loves BOOMing. Video taken about April 2, 2010.

Spring Flowers vs Obnoxious Weeds (AKA Why There Are No More Dandelions on My Front Lawn)

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Since we moved in last winter when there was more than a foot of snow on the ground, we weren’t quite sure what to expect in terms of the yard. I waited all spring, hoping something would come up, and not sure I wanted to mess with it.

Well, nothing came up. The rose bushes in the front on the right were dead, and the other three bushes on the left are random and overgrown. Last year, I dug out the dead roses and spent my meager budget of $70 on four new bushes for the right hand side. I got small ones. They still looked small by fall, and they looked small all winter and they still do (you probably can’t even see them unless you know they are there). I spent another $20 on bulbs in the fall. This year, I had so much fun watching the flowers appear! I hope to plant lots more this fall so I can enjoy them in the backyard too. Paul loves saying “Look, Mommy! The flowers come up!!” every time he sees them.

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taken April 22, 2010

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taken April 22, 2010

You may notice the lovely green lawn. There is nary a dandelion on the front lawn because I spent hours pulling Every. Single. One. that I found. Yes. I went in a very thorough linear pattern and I was very careful to look for dandelions without the flowers yet.

Why did I feel compelled to eliminate the yellow flower from my yard in such earnest? Let me tell you the saga of the dandelions.

Last week, Ryan fertilized with non-dandelion stuff that supposedly kills them all. Two days later, it rained. The next morning, the lawn was covered with dandelions! What?! So I went out there with Weed-B-Gone and sprayed every dandelion I saw, careful to get all I could see. The next morning, there were twice as many! Grrr. I love my spring flowers but those awful dandelions were making me cross. So out they came.

Of course, the day after I took this picture, I saw at least six more dandelions on the part I’ve already pulled out! Grrr. I didn’t pull out of the parkway — I just sprayed those but there are a ton. So maybe I must do those tow. Sigh.

It’s a daily/weekly/monthly battle, but I realize that it’s okay. Knowing the effort I put in to getting my lawn so nice and green is actually quite rewarding. It’s part of makes the spring flowers that much more satisfying! I love my house, I love my yard, and it just makes me so happy to look at these dandelion-free pictures and feel all warm and fuzzy in side!

I compare our yard to the house two doors down, which is still vacant (as it was last year). YIKES. My yard is so much nicer.

Don’t get me started on the backyard. I am not about to crawl on my hands and knees for a full quarter of an acre. Here’s to hoping I have energy to at least spray them tomorrow! It’s pretty bad and I do not want them going to seed…

Cache River Wild Life Area (AKA Jumping in Puddles)

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It has been a long time since our family went anywhere, so we took advantage of the no Sunday responsibilities weekend on Easter and drove to southern Illinois to the Cache River Wild Life Area — a state park. Mommy and Daddy took some pictures and Paul enjoyed going for walks and jumping in puddles. Mommy really wanted to see an Easter sunrise and she got her wish!

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About to Jump (taken April 3, 2010 by Mommy)

We also gave him a (very cheap) digital camera and he had fun taking some of his own pictures.

Nice job, Paul!

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(I would say maybe he needs practice focusing, but I promise, this camera is so cheap I don’t know if better focus is possible!!)

Micro and Macro: Thoughts on Reading the Book of Mormon

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Last July, when Paul was about 21 months old, I began reading him the Book of Mormon as we ate our breakfast. At first, of course, he barely noticed. He’d keep babbling to himself as he ate his oatmeal. It didn’t (and doesn’t) take long to read five verses. By October, we’d finished First Nephi and begun Second Nephi.

By the New Year, I began to notice something. Paul, now 26 months, enjoyed Book of Mormon time. He’d point to the book on the shelf as he ate and remind me. He’d request Book of Mormon time during lunch too. He’d repeat words (“Wo! Wo!”). He’d look for the pictures of Jesus in it.

I’ve learned a lot from the Book of Mormon by reading so slowly. First, most verses have some precious truth that even a two-year-old can understand. It sometimes felt challenges reading the Isaiah chapters to him. After all, I didn’t want him to remember the word “whoredoms” at age two and a half. Yet, even in the midst of God’s scoldings, there are verses of comfort, reminders to hear with your ears, and calls to come to God. All these are concepts that we need. When a verse says “Open your ears and hear,” my two-year-old can understand. We’re almost finished with Second Nephi now. I’ll let you know when we begin Mosiah (I anticipate it will be another four months).

In January, I began a personal study of the New Testament. When I thought of the Stake President’s request that we read the Book of Mormon by the next stake conference, I discounted myself. Surely that is guidance for those who haven’t read it a dozen times already! I wanted to keep reading the Bible. I’m unfamiliar with it in comparison to the Book of Mormon.

But by March, I was feeling seriously guilty. One Tuesday night, I picked it up and began at the beginning once again. Knowing I had a “deadline” of April 25, I purposely carved out time every night that first week to read the requisite 20 pages (or so). To my surprise, I found myself compelled by what I was reading, so much so that some days I read 50 pages or more. I wanted to carry it around with me during the morning, which I often do with compelling novels, and read it in snatches when I get a break during the day. I wanted to stay up late reading a little bit more before I went to sleep. I wanted to read it.

I finished it in about three weeks, and it was an interesting way to read it. I wasn’t stopping and reading footnotes. I wasn’t taking notes and pondering the teachings I was reading. I was just reading for the overall spirit of the book. What I got was so much more. I gained a stronger love for the Book of Mormon as a book worth reading and rereading. I was reminded each day of the testimony I have of its truthfulness. And ultimately, I was reminded of the hope there is for me, for as I call upon the Savior’s atonement and seek forgiveness for my imperfections, I can someday return to Heavenly Father, imperfect as I am. The people of the Book of Mormon were blinded by pride, by the desire for power, by hate for those around them. It is a tragedy, and yet the message for me is one of hope.

This read, I most loved the book of Mosiah. I remember someone telling me before that King Benjamin’s speech is not for one who is depressed: he only reminds us of our weaknesses and discourages us further. But on the contrary, I loved everything about the book of Mosiah, especially King Benjamin’s speeches. Rather than being depressed, I saw the hope for me, imperfect as I am. I was inspired by Abinadi’s teaching, Alma’s conversion, and the tales of the two groups of people who were enslaved and reacted in two different ways. Alma the Younger’s miraculous conversion reiterates the fact that there is hope for all: we can all be forgiven.

The other thing I learned from reading the Book of Mormon is the importance of the actual act of doing so. Because I was so enthralled by its pages, Paul saw me reading it, and whenever I sat on the couch to read a few pages as he played with his cars, for example, he’d jump up and say “Mommy! Paul’s Book of Mormon too!” And he’d race to get his own blue copy, the one we read every morning at breakfast. He’d pull himself up on the couch as well and he’d “read” his along with me. (This would often last about 30 seconds, but occasionally he would flip through all the pictures and babble to himself for a good 5 minutes.)

The bottom line is that the Book of Mormon is something to be appreciated on both a Macro and a Micro level. Whether you read five verses a day or 60 pages strengthens you. I’m hoping my next read (which will happen now, concurrently with my New Testament study) will be more in the middle of the two extremes as I ponder footnotes, cross reference, and actually study the words saved for our day.

Beyond the mere fact that reading the Book of Mormon is a blessing, I also gained a stronger testimony of the Stake President’s counsel. Surely, there is a reason to obey.  I am grateful I did.

Paul’s New Word (AKA Toilet Humor Has Begun Already)

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Ryan and I watched a movie one night a few weeks ago called Parenthood in which an eight-year-old boy was singing a song he’d made up about diarrhea. For some reason, Ryan brought it up during dinner, I think to rub in the fact that some day our little boy will be creating his own creative songs about bodily functions and waste.

“Diarrhea!” Paul laughed, since he could see it made us laugh too.

That would have been fine. OK, one day of a new word. Then suddenly, last night at dinner, two weeks later, in the middle of his bite of pizza, Paul called out very loudly, “Diarrhea!” Without any reminder, he suddenly remembered his new word!

Since he kept saying his new word very loudly, in a moment of brilliance insanity, Mommy decided to take the matter in her own hands and explain just why diarrhea isn’t a word we talk about at the dinner table. After all, Paul didn’t even know what it was! Surely he’d be disgusted to realize he’d been talking about poop.

Unfortunately, Mommy’s plan failed miserable, as you can probably figure out. The rest of dinner was filled with Paul’s conversation thus:

“DIARRHEA! Diarrhea is icky poop. Really icky poop. DIARRHEA! DIARRHEA! Icky poop. DIARRHEA!”

And then, of course, after dinner, Paul wanted the diarrhea to come out. He sat on the toilet for 10 minutes saying, “Diarrhea! Come out!” Hey, at least he’s back to sitting on the toilet!

Great. I thought I had a few years before Cub Scouts’ toilet talk. Apparently, it has begun.

Spring Cleaning

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I’ve been busy getting in the spring cleaning mood this morning. All week, Paul and I have been walking to the park, walking to the Big Big Bridge to play “Poohsticks”, and outside watering flowers and getting in a Spring-y mood. I had Yardwork with a capital Y on my list for this morning but ….. it snowed last night. Yes, I shouldn’t have expected it to say in the 70s!

So instead, Paul and I have been cleaning out this morning while Daddy runs some errands. It’s feeling pretty good. See some pictures of Paul from this morning.