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Friday, January 30, 2009

Lacking Skills

We just returned from a Washington Virtual Academy (of which we're a part) field trip. It was roller skating.

Here's knowledge I gained growing up in the shadows of the Ruby Mountains in rural Nevada.

1-How to cross a barbed wire fence.

2-How to saddle a horse.

3-How to cook and eat Rocky Mountain Oysters.

I could teach my children any one of those things.

Here's what I don't know how to teach them.

How to roller skate.

It's not a real common skill you learn when you live on the end of a dirt road.

I've been roller skating exactly two times in my life. Once my grandma took my sisters and me.

I was an unwilling and uncoordinated student.

The second time was at FFA state in Reno. They took the country bumpkins to a roller rink. Some of the kids were OK at it. I refused to try. I know my limits. Rick Moon (who was a senior boy) took my hands and insisted I give it a try. When you're a shy freshman girl and a senior boy takes your hands and drags you out on the rink, it becomes harder to refuse.

Again, I was an unwilling and uncoordinated student.

I do not know how to roller skate.

I felt anxiety from the minute I knew about the field trip. But my kids wanted to go. So we did.

They looked at me for instruction.

I had nothing.

Mark flailed around and finally gave up and went and watched older boys play video games. (I didn't get my $5 back even though he didn't even enter the rink.)

Emma clung straight legged to the side and made two friends with other side clingers. They enthusiastically exchanged phone numbers when it was time to leave.

Braeden thrashed around and struggled but actually managed to learn to skate tolerably well. He had some spectacular crashes but insisted he was having fun every time I asked him if it was time to go yet. (please?)

I felt like I was in one of Dante's circles of hell.

...new torments and new tormented souls I see around me wherever I move, and howsoever I turn, and wherever I gaze.

There's No Comparing

Our tenth wedding anniversary coincided with us being in Nevada that summer. We had planned/hoped to go to Maine and leave our kids with my parents but couldn't get it worked out. We came up with a different, more easily executed plan. We went to St. George, Utah.

I know that you're thinking, St. George in August? We were wondering the same thing when the thermometer in our van told us it was 114 degrees outside.

We spent nearly all our time either in air conditioning or a pool.

And I thought it was beautiful.



But then, I love the desert.

One highlight for the trip was going to Tuacahn. It's an amphitheater in the red rocks with outdoor theater. The show we were going to see was Beauty and the Beast.



And it was amazing.



During the climactic scene when Gaston is rallying the town to "Kill the Beast!", there was a sudden thunder storm. There was lightening. And rain. And they ended the play.

(Something about actors not wanting to be struck by lightening.)

How rotten was our luck to be in St. George on one of the probably three days it rains?

We spent the rest of the evening pouting and dissatisfied.

We got a raincheck to see a new performance on another night but we weren't sticking around so gave it to my friend Rachel in Cedar City to use.

This year on Christmas morning there was a ticket to see Beauty and the Beast in each of the kids' stockings. And Adam had given me tickets as well.

I loved it.

All throughout the first act, I kept squeezing Adam's hand. I wanted to tell him,

I love you.

I love the expressions on our kids' faces.

I love this gift you gave us.

I love this play.

During the intermission Adam said, "It's not as good as the Tuacahn production." (Adam's one for critical analysis--I blame graduate school.)

I quickly defended the Village Theater. "I think it's as good."

As the lights went dim to start the second act, I started thinking about it though. The Tuacahn production was much bigger. The stage and cast were bigger. The costumes more elaborate. It took some of the shine off of the play.

I started comparing everything...what about Lumiere, isn't this Lumiere every bit as funny as the one at Tuacahn? I love those tap dancing salt and pepper shakers, did they have those at Tuacahn? Ooooh, I remember Monsieur D' Arque at Tuacahn, he came in an actual horse drawn carriage.

I was spending my time comparing and just like in the rest of life when you compare talent, beauty, or material possessions, it took all the fun out of it.

So I did what I (try to) do in those cases. I told myself to stop it. Stop it and enjoy the show.

I stopped comparing. And I loved the show.

Thursday, January 29, 2009

What I Didn't Do

Today I didn't:

1-Put anything in my hair to make it less curly/frizzy (yikes)

2-Make my bed

3-Do any laundry

4-Teach my kids any school (besides what they could do on their own)

5-Wash any dishes

6-Read anything out loud

7-Get dressed

8-Cross anything off any list

9- Correct any school work

10-Call anyone on the phone

11-Leave my house

12-Exercise

13-Cook anything (unless you count the microwave)

14- Write an email to my family

15-Let any neighborhood children inside my home


Tonight I told Adam I was woefully bored and discouraged by what I didn't do.

He said what I didn't do didn't matter in the least.

I said, "Are you telling me what I do every day doesn't matter."

Adam (who is really smart and knows dangerous waters when he approaches them) said, "That's not what I'm saying. I'm saying it's OK to be sick. You can take a day--or two--or three--off and the world won't fly apart."

I said, "Thank you."

My throat hurts. I ache. My head, she may just explode.

And I've been the laziest person in America because tonight we have tickets to all go to Beauty and the Beast at the Village Theater.



I want to feel up to the challenge.

(I will try not to breathe on anyone.)

Wednesday, January 28, 2009

So I Can Move On


Are the voices in my head bothering anyone else?

Sometimes I need to write a blog post so that the ideas swirling in my brain will be transferred elsewhere…and I can start thinking about something else.

Like what to make for dinner.

Last night our book club met. I love our book club. When I go to book club I feel like I’m in a warm cocoon of love and stability. These are good women.

We read a book called Escape by Caroline Jessop. And we discussed it last night.

And discuss it we did. It was a lively dialogue.

Escape is a book written by a woman who escaped from a polygamous group. They call themselves FLDS or Fundamentalist Latter Day Saints. I felt a little trepidation about the book. Plural marriage is part of our history as Mormons. It’s not a part of our history I’m always comfortable with. It takes a certain degree of faith for me to accept that I don’t have all the answers and to know that I have a Father in Heaven who loves me. And it will all make sense some day.

Did I want to read a book that would dredge up those pesky polygamist thoughts that are troubling?

I went ahead and read it.

I’ve always been mystified that people think Mormons aren’t Christians. Mystified. It’s like people claiming Americans don’t value freedom…or cheeseburgers. Just not possible.

It was more than a little shocking as I read this book to realize that maybe this is why people don’t see us as Christians. Maybe they’re associating us with the horrors found on the pages of Escape.

At book club last night, I think several of us went away with the resolve that we need to make our voices heard a little bit more.

THIS IS NOT US!

Stephanie had heard someone say they considered the FLDS people to be like Mormons—only the FLDS were living the religion at a higher level.

Not true!

I wish I had a forum larger than my anemic blog with its small following.

I wish everyone in the world could have been at our book club last night (and you’re all welcome, any time). I wish everyone could have heard the faithful and wise women I’m lucky enough to be friends with talk about the inherent value of women and free will. I wish everyone could have heard these beautiful women talk about the amazing privilege each person on earth has to be able to pray and find out for ourselves what is truth.

And what is not.

I wish.

For the record, I want to include what The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-Day Saints has to say about polygamy (from LDS.org):

The family is ordained of God. Marriage between man and woman is essential to His eternal plan. At certain times and for His specific purposes, God, through His prophets, has directed the practice of plural marriage (sometimes called polygamy), which means one man having more than one living wife at the same time. In obedience to direction from God, Latter-day Saints followed this practice for about 50 years during the 1800s but officially ceased the practice of such marriages after the Manifesto was issued by President Woodruff in 1890. Since that time, plural marriage has not been approved by The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints and any member adopting this practice is subject to losing his or her membership in the Church.


There.

Now maybe I can think about something else.

What should I make for dinner?

Tuesday, January 27, 2009

She Was Me All Along


When Emma was one year old she’d take her shoes off and put them back on the wrong feet. I’d change them back. Then she would change them back.

And so it started.

When Emma was two and stamped her feet and exerted her will my mother-in-law told me I was in “so much trouble” when Emma was a teenager.

I believed her.

One of my very favorite things about Emma is her will. Her stubbornness. Her unwillingness to cave. If there were such an award, she’d win, “Least Likely to Succumb to Peer Pressure.”

One of the things that makes me crazy about Emma is her will. Her stubbornness. Her unwillingness to cave.

All this time I’ve blamed my sister Olivia. I even accidentally call Emma Olivia sometimes. She reminds me of her. There have been times when Emma gets a certain set of her jaw, a certain gleam in her eye and I think—Olivia.

I used to pull Olivia’s hair at such times. It never worked so I haven’t tried with Emma (besides I’m a big girl now and supposed to be the grownup).

At Christmas time Emma insisted she had an idea for her dad’s present. I tried to give some input. Emma (looking very much like her aunt Olivia) said, “Is this gift going to be from me or is it going to be what you want it to be?”

I backed down.

Adam is the sole person that has influence on Emma. A few years ago when my parents were visiting, my mom wanted to buy our kids each a book. We went to Borders and Emma chose a silly non-substantive preteen chick lit book and I tried to convince her to get Harriet the Spy instead. It was a standoff. Adam walked up and asked me what was going on. He bent over and whispered something in her ear. Emma shrugged, replaced the brainless book on the shelf and picked up Harriet the Spy. I was mystified, grateful and jealous all at the same time. How did he do it?

Right now Emma and I are planning for her tenth birthday soiree. I have spent time scouring the aisles of craft stores for materials for invitations and party favors. She neither wants to come along nor do I particularly want her to (my children and retail experiences don’t favorably mix) but I’ve tried to get her opinions beforehand. I’ve tried to think of colors and styles she likes.

She’s been opposed to everything.

I’ve started to realize that she’s opposed simply because it’s what I’ve picked out.

Today I was talking to my sister Marianne because she is and always has been The Party Girl. I needed her party input and advice. I told her of my vexing daughter. I said, "I can just imagine when she gets married!"

Marianne said, gently, "Like you."

Then it hit me.

I remembered the Summer War of 1995. The year Adam and I got married and I fought with my mother every day.

I was opposed to every wedding decision imaginable. Looking back, I don’t know why. I don’t know why I cared so much about something that mattered so little. I don’t know why I made my poor mother’s life so miserable.

And I don’t know why it took me so long to realize. Emma has been me all along.

I liked the opposite of what my mom did. Just because. Sometimes my mom would turn me over in exasperation to my dad. He could talk to me more easily.

She was me all along.

And I need to apologize to my mom.

Sorry to be such a pain.

And where, oh where did you get the patience?

Sunday, January 25, 2009

Entertaining

On a few of Adam’s London trips, a kind man named Adrian and his wife entertained Adam. They took him to restaurants and plays and I was grateful. I was glad Adam had something fun to do and savvy locals to do it with.

I told him to invite some of his friends from London over sometime when they were visiting.

I teased him that he must be embarrassed of me because he never did invite anyone.

Then he did invite them. Yesterday.

Chris and Rob, co-workers from London were in town and Adam invited them over for dinner. Then he called another co-worker, Jean-Michel (who is French and I may or may not be spelling his name correctly). Jean-Michel lives in Mukilteo with his American wife and teenage daughters. Adam invited him and his wife.

We talked about what to serve. Our kids voted for their British favorites, bangers and mash or fish and chips. I told the kids they’d be gone babysitting (Braeden) or upstairs watching a movie having already eaten dinner (Emma and Mark) so their opinions didn’t matter too much. We decided to go “American” and had Mexican food. I came up with a dessert (brownie sundaes), which is always the most important part of the meal to me.

Then I started to feel nervous. Thanks to the steady stream of dinner guests we had growing up, I’m not intimidated by having people over for dinner. I actually really enjoy it. Strangers for dinner is a whole different matter though. I’m mostly scared to death of strangers.

My mother-in-law stopped by to see my rearranged furniture. I told her of my fears. She said my house looked great so not to worry.

Adam said, “She’s not worried about the house. She’s worried about the people.”

I called Janet for reinforcement. I told her I needed a pep talk and she gave me one.

I took a deep breath and set the table. I wondered how it would go. Jean-Michel’s wife (who it turned out was named Michelle which sort of delighted me) works for the Democratic Party in Washington. I wondered what she’d think of my stay-at-home Mormon wife life. I wondered what she’d think when she knew I took peculiar a step further and home schooled.

Adam went to Seattle to pick up the men from London (to spare them an enormous cab fare). I was humming along with my preparations when he called. He was almost home and he’d talked to Jean-Michel and they were also on their way and bringing their two teenage daughters.

(!)

Our six capacity table was set for…six. We’d have enough food but where would we sit everyone? I had to come up with an answer quick. I didn’t want to put them at the counter. Our six-foot long folding table was too big. I raced upstairs and tossed everything off Adam’s desk, which used to be our table in a former, childless life. I enlisted Emma and Mark’s help to carry it downstairs. I looked frantically for a tablecloth for the new table that would match the one already set. No luck. I whisked plates, napkins, silverware, cups and lighted candles off the table. I whipped out new tablecloths, reset the tables, found new napkins that matched, found new napkin rings that matched. I finished just as Adam and Chris and Rob walked in the door.

Jean-Michel and his family arrived close behind. He (of course…he’s French!) came with two bottles of wine.

We sat down to dinner, explaining we don’t drink wine. They thought that was fine (more for them?) and asked for a bottle opener. I scanned my drawer and pulled out a can opener and presented it to Jean-Michel with my apologies. He sent one of his daughters to the car for a bottle opener. Apparently he doesn’t mess around when it comes to wine.

We ate our beef or shrimp tacos and the table was a lively convivial place. I started to breathe.

The accents (French and British) enchanted me. I especially loved how Rob said, “crikey”. Michelle was warm and friendly and didn’t even miss a beat when she asked me where our kids go to school and I told her upstairs. I found out her ancestors were Mormon pioneers and she still has family in Delta, UT. She told me their names in case all Mormons know each other. Estelle and Margot, their daughters were smart and charming.

Altogether it was very nice.

After dinner we played games. We played Catch Phrase, boys against girls. We girls had the advantage of all being American. Adam had the word “Columbus” he was trying to get them to guess. He said, “Christopher ______”

Chris immediately yelled, “Robin!”

We also played our favorite game Hoopla, which employs a certain amount of pop culture. we all did pretty well...especially Jean-Michel when he had to draw the Eiffel Tower...but we did have our cultural hiccups.

At one point Chris gave up completely on the Yankees and told Rob he’d have to guess it (the word was comic books) and he started saying British comics, Dan Dare, Daredevil…

I was glad we stepped outside our normal circle and made some new friends. Even with our blaring differences we found a lot to talk about: good chocolate, education, the British Library, Seurat, how to maximize shipping costs from Amazon.com. Good stuff.

“Friendship is born at that moment when one person says to another, 'What! You too? I thought I was the only one” - C.S. Lewis

Friday, January 23, 2009

Fair Warning

Dear Adam,

As you know, yesterday I had about 5 inches cut off my hair.

Today I moved the furniture around.

Tomorrow I may paint the entire house...purple. Who knows?

I blame you because the only reason I live in this sun-forsaken wasteland
(can you call a place with so many many green trees a wasteland?) that does crazy things to my brain is because I'm crazy about you...and this is where you live.

Love Thelma

p.s. Hurry home because the TV doesn't work (I had to unplug all the cords to move it and I have no idea how to hook it back up). Braeden will be one mad kid when he realizes M*A*S*H is on and he can't watch it.

p.p.s. Thanks for the genetic contribution you made to our kids. They are strong...that armoire practically moved itself.