Uppity Women Unite Part Deux

Since my last post I've had a lot of people tell me they want an Uppity Women Unite t-shirt. Which I think is a marvelous idea, just marvelous. I'm not a t-shirt sporting slogans wearer myself, but that doesn't mean the rest of you can't be.

 But here's the thing. With the money it would cost to buy that t-shirt, you could do something even better to show just what an Uppity Woman you are. See that sidebar over there? On the side? In the bar? Well, by donating to that fund you will be helping a single mother go to college. And everyone knows, if you improve the life of a mother, you improve the life of more than one person.

So come on Uppity friends (that includes you too, guys. You don't have to be a woman to be uppity), let's unite and support our sisters. I'm going to throw in $5, and if every one of my followers did too, that'd be like fifteen bucks.

Now I'll be honest. My motive for supporting this cause aren't completely altruistic. By posting this and donating, I'll be entered in a contest wherein I could win a reprieve from writing my own Christmas letter. Now, now, I know many of you are fans of my annual Christmas letter and look forward to its arrival each year. But that's some pressure people. And I may not be up for the task this year. But my hilarious friend DeNae is more than able and I assure you, reading about the 2011 exploits of the Larsen family in her words will not disappoint.

And I guess that's about all I've got to say today. A little less wordy than usual, I know. But I'm the co-chair of my kids' school book fair this week. Which means I'm up to my eyeballs in books, words and kids. So I'm kind of tired of looking at all of those things and am having a lot of trouble thinking straight.

Not too worry though. It's nothing that a Diet Coke can't fix. Just trying to make it to 7 a.m. before I crack it open.

Uppity Women Unite

When I was a freshman at the BYU, there was a girl on my floor who had a poster of an upright fist with the words: Uppity Women Unite! at the bottom. I don't remember this girl's name (though I do remember a rumor she left the Y for Berkley) and I had no idea who the Uppity women were or why they should unite, but man was that poster cool.

I've thought about that poster a lot over the past few days because I've done a lot of uniting in celebration with some pretty awesome friends.

With Friend 1, we celebrated a new beginning

Friend 2 and I celebrated her 40th birthday by going on a girls' trip with two other friends.

And for Friend 3, I threw a party to celebrate the good news that Covenant Books wants to publish her book.

All good news, right? So what do these friends have to do with uppity women, you ask? Well, let me tell you a little more about them..

The new beginning Friend 1 and I celebrated is her courage to get out of an abusive relationship. Sometimes, know matter how bad things are, it's easier to stick with what you know than face the unknown. But she's got a lot of women surrounding her-- lifting her up after years of being beaten down--united in helping her start over.

Friend 2 has had some knock down, drag out fights with depression over the years. When she lost her mom to cancer this year, we worried we would lose her to depression. But she's feeling better physically and emotionally than she has in years. So we celebrated her and her strength and listened to stories about her mom. Then cried with her when, for the first time, her mom didn't call her to say "Happy Birthday."

And talk about strength. Friend 3's book is about the grief-- and the miracles--she experienced when her son was killed in a sledding accident just before his fifth birthday. She spent two years writing and editing that story. The day she found out it was going to be published was the first day I had seen my old friend in four years.  The one without the sad eyes.

It's not the publishing part she's excited about. It's the part where her pain can hopefully be a balm for those who are in need of comfort. You can get a sense for how she does that here: http://mormon.org/jenny/

The women who came to my house to celebrate Friend 3's accomplishment have felt her pain. Even those who didn't know her when it happened. But those of us who were there in those days and weeks after her son's death, prayed to take on some of her burden. And I know that Heavenly Father allowed us to do that. And in doing so, we gained a better understanding of the Atonement and what the Savior suffered for us. We learned what her book aims to show: there are blessings that come from tragedy.

The past few days have taught me, once again, just how amazing the women are who surround me. I'm in awe of the things we can do when we unite to lift each other up. And we don't even need the rallying call of "Uppity Women Unite!"

We only need to follow our instincts and the Spirit.

I do really like to say those words though..

So...

UPPITY WOMEN UNITE!

My Top Ten

Have you seen those status updates on Facebook? The ones where people are saying what they are thankful for EVERY SINGLE DAY this month?

I keep thinking I should jump on that bandwagon, but I don't want to be a follower. Even though I totally am. I'm just not comfortable doing it so publically. Plus, I'm eight days behind now and I hate catching a trend at the tailend. It's like the time in college I finally broke down and bought a pair of Birkenstocks, only to find out a few months later everyone had moved on to Doc Marten's. (Did I just age myself there? Pretty sure I did.)

So, because I'm not taking time to update my gratitude status every day--or even update my status at all, for that matter-- I've decided to get all my thankfulness out in one fell swoop with a Top Ten List ala David Letterman. (See what I mean about catching trends at the tailend? I think this one is so long gone it's no where to be caught).

So here it is...

Top Ten Things I'm Thankful For, But You Will Not See In My Facebook Status...

10. Chik-fil-a, which I can never remember how to spell. Their name is tricky, but their fries are yummy.

  9. Limes. They make Diet Coke taste good.

  8. Breakfast. Because once a week I get to eat it with three of my favorite people and sometimes more of my favorite people come along.  

  7. School. My house is quiet when my kids go to there.

  6. Chocolate. No explanantion necessary.

  5. Nice memories from my childhood of snow days, safely viewed from my sunny spot in California where I never have to worry about my children having them.*

  4. Parents who live somewhere snowy so we can have a white Christmas, and then a warm January. 

  3. Friends. Lots and lots of them. And they are the best in the world.

  2. My kids. Who I do miss when they are at school. Until they get home and we enter Homework Hell. Then I wish I could miss them again.

  1. My husband. Seriously, he is the best. Even when I suggest something and he says, "let's sit down and talk about it," when we are already sitting. And talking. And I know what he really means is either, "if I ignore it long enough, she will forget about it," or "I'm gonna have to gear up for this one, because there's no way she's letting it go." And he usually let's me have what I want if I just "sit and talk about it" at him for long enough.

(There are also lots of other things I love about him. But I'll wait and post those on Facebook. Because if there's one thing he hates, it's public affection of the sentimental type).

* There was the time my kids got out of school for a week because it was under threat of being burned to the ground by wildfire. And the smoke was too thick to actually leave the house. But that's only happened once in the past twelve fire seasons since I have lived here.

Just In Case You're Wondering

Angie at Live to Write... Edit When Necessary... passed along these questions for me to answer. And it's a good thing too, because now I don't have to think up something to write on my own. I mean, other than my answers to these questions:

If you could go back in time and relive one moment, what would it be?

I would go back to the boat I was on in Belize just over three years ago when the dive guide asked who was going to be doing the 140 foot deep dive into the Blue Hole. And this time I would say yes instead of asking if reef sharks eat people. The snorkeling far away from the sharks was beautiful though.

If you could go back in time and change one thing what would it be?

Wow. Only one? I would go back to the years I was at BYU and take a class from Eugene England. That's how cool I think he was. (BTW, I'm married to the guy who wrote that article about Prof. England. He's pretty cool too).

What movie/TV character do you most resemble in personality?


Hmmm. That's a tough one. I've been told I look like Sarah Jessica Parker, who I think is a terrible actress and kinda looks like a horse-- but must be an all right gal cuz she's married to Ferris Bueller-- but you be the judge. Do we look alike?




SJP                         Me

 As far as personality though, maybe Angela from The Office. Because I am kind of little and very judgmental. Not to mention self-righteous. I don't like cats though, or numbers, but I do have the word "cats" in my blog title. And I do use numbers on occasion. So, yeah, let's say Angela.

If you could push one person off a cliff and get away with it, who would you choose?

Another tough one. There are so many people I'd like to push over a cliff. But let's go with Ashton Kutcher. I find him, his acting, and his little camera very irritating.

Name one habit you want to change in yourself.

I could curse less. But I kinda like doing that, so maybe I won't change that one. How about yelling at my kids every morning? I bet that's one they'd like me to change too.
 
Why do you blog (answer in one sentence).

Because I'm a narcissist and a procrastinator of housecleaning tasks and I like to write, so blogging fulfills all of those needs and people tell me how much they like to read it, which is awesome because no one ever says how my clean house made their day. And sometimes I don't like to follow rules so I'm answering in one really long sentence and a pointless second sentence.

And now I have to pass these questions along to three other people. So here goes...

Take it away

1. Kristy at Kristy's stories
2. Karen at Karen's Make Believe World
3. Jenny at Mommy Snark

And the Mother of the Year Award Goes To.... Not Me.

Another Halloween has come and gone and with it all of my hopes and aspirations of being nominated for Mother of the Year.

And here's why:

For at least eight months Girl 1 has been planning on dressing up as a horse for Halloween. (She's ten and a girl, so, of course, she loves horses). She envisioned a costume for her and her best friend made out of chicken wire, fabric and a lot of help from me and my mad sewing skills. Which she's sure I have because I have a sewing machine. In a closet. In the garage. That she's never seen me use.

So, yeah, that didn't happen. Instead I've spent the past eight months saying, "Halloween is still months away; let's at least get to October before we start talking costumes." And by "saying" I may mean "yelling in frustration."

And then last week I started "saying", "Fine. I will look online for a horse costume, but I am not buying anything."

But I did buy something. Ninja accessories. Because when we couldn't find a horse costume big enough to fit someone over eighteen months old, that's what she came up with. And I'm sure I could have borrowed daggers, swords , and masks from one of my many friends who have boys, but after eight months of horse costume talk, she broke me. So I spent the $6.

And then she gave the sword to her BFF so she could also be a ninja. She asked me to find something black for BFF to wrap around her face, so I made some suggestions, like, "Seriously? She can't find anything at her own house?" But I drew the line at actually getting up and looking for a costume for someone else's kid. Much as I like that kid and her parents.

Then I sent all my kids over to their house on Saturday. And again today. Because I needed a nap and I figured she kinda owed me for making her kid's costume.

But at least Girl 1 got a choice. Her two younger sisters I just tried to guilt into wearing the poodle skirts I made for them in June so they could go to a sock hop. On My Birthday. And I bought saddle shoes for them to wear--which aren't going to fit either one of them next year because even though they are 2 1/2 years apart, they are the same size.

It worked with Girl 3, but Girl 2 opted to wear something from the dress-up box and then borrow some tights from me. Despite the fact she is two feet shorter than me. But hey, neglect has made her resourceful. And Girl 3 looked awfully cute as a 50's girl. She even had cat eye glasses to wear. I mean, sure, they're her older sister's. And they're prescription glasses. And she complained they hurt her eyes. But man, did she look like an authentic 50's girl!

Also, I may have forgotten today was Halloween because we had a church trunk-or-treat activity on Friday where they sure got a lot of candy. So, in my mind, Halloween was over. Until someone mentioned something about trick-or-treating on Monday. But that was on Saturday night. And when I realized we would have to do the whole dress-up thing again, a wave of horror washed over me. Because by this time the kids had eaten much of their candy for breakfast. And lunch. And a little more for dinner. Which meant there was none left over for me to re-gift to actual Halloween night trick-or-treaters.

 And no way was I going back to Target for more.

So I raided the snack drawer. Which was chock full of some pretzel cheese sandwich cracker things that my kids refused to eat. So those went in the give away bowl.  Plus a whole lot of lame plastic bat rings and pumpkin erasers my husband was convinced no one would take. He advised me thus, "Don't let them see what's in the bowl. Just reach in, grab something, then put your hand all the way in their bag before you drop it so they can't see what it is." (Have I mentioned he's a lawyer?).

Sound advice, I know. But instead I sent hubby with the kids to knock doors and beg for candy while I set the bowl on the porch, turned out all the lights, and watched TV.

Best. Halloween. Ever.

* One more reason--and there are a lot-- I won't be nominated for Mother of the Year: I don't always make it home before my kids do because I know Girl 3 can get into our locked house through the doggie door and then let the other two in. At least until she grows another inch or two.

In Honor of Baby Kegel. And Some Other People Too.

Today's post is a tribute to some friends of mine. Which, for some reason, brings to mind that old Willie Nelson song, To All The Girls I've Loved Before. I'm really not sure why. Maybe because of that part where he sings:

I'm glad you came along

so I dedicate this song

to all the girls I've loved before...

But honestly, I can't explain how the soundtrack in my head works. I mean, I do love these two girls. Just not in the same way I think Willie Nelson would love them.

Anyhow...

Moving on to the actual tributary part of this blog, I'd like to start with Sheridan. And if I were any kind of technical computer genius person, I would make that name light up and flash. Maybe even do a little dance.

Sadly, I think we've already established here, I am not that girl. Which is okay. Because Sheridan is not a flashy, name- in -lights kind of gal anyway. Quite the opposite, actually. In fact, Sheridan is the kind of gal whose husband once said to me, "please take her shopping and I don't care how much you spend. I just want my shirts back."

And what I heard is, "shopping spree at Nordstrom on somebody else's dime." 

So we went. But I told her before we left to wear a bra, because I knew she wouldn't if I didn't make her. Except she still didn't. Instead she packed one in her purse. Her small purse. (Here's something you should know about bras. If you have borne and nursed three children, you should be wearing a bra with cups and underwire. Not one that can be wadded up and stuffed into a purse. Those days--and those boobs--are gone my friends).

But Sheridan's boobs had been hiding under her husband's shirts, and she didn't know this. So, being the charitable woman I am, I sacrificed my own bra for her use so that she could see how nice clothes look when breasts are properly positioned inside them.

She's still not convinced. Which is actually pretty awesome, because it gives me something to tease her about. And thank goodness there's one real woman in the sea of plastic that is Orange County (not that there's anything wrong with the plastic--no judgment here).  

But her courage in the face of conformity is not why I want to pay tribute to her today. No, the real reason she deserves my kudos is for her tireless and underpaid efforts to educate women about childbirth. Not the sterilized, hospital, let's-make-this-as-convenient-as-possible kind, but the beautiful, calm, women's-bodies-are-amazing kind. Which I think is really cool. Because what we go through to have children--whether naturally, with an epidural, by c-section, or adoption--should be celebrated and not feared. And if you want to go to a place where it is, check out Sheridan's blog http://thegiftofgivinglife.com/. While you're there, take a look at the book she helped write, whose button I would grab, except... well, that whole computer brain deficiency thing I've got going on.

Let's move on now to friend #2, Nikki, who is as good at birthing children as Sheridan is at teaching people how to birth them. For example, one time Nikki gave birth to twins. Then about two years later she gave birth again.

To triplets.

Because she's efficient like that. Five kids in two pregnancies gets things done pretty quick if you're looking to have a big family. Which maybe she wasn't so much, but, hey, she's sure made life fun for those kids. Even if they don't always make it fun for her

Including the one that came a few years after the triplets. If you're counting, that's three pregnancies, six kids, and four years. See what I mean when I say that ability to have children is pretty amazing? Especially when you can have so many, so quickly.

And guess what Nikki did today. She went ahead and had another baby. Just one this time. And she waited seven years. But still, pretty amazing, right?

Before she had that baby, though, she got a little training from Sheridan about how to do it. Even though she'd already done it. Three times. But it never hurts to learn a few new tricks. Like how to hypnotize a baby using Sheridan's hypnobabies tactics (still don't think I have the definition of that right). Plus Sheridan gave her these cool stickers to put on her purse, and her steering wheel, and lots of other places, to remind her to "exercise"*

And when Nikki's kids found these stickers they thought they were really cool and wondered if they were for the baby. Because, did I mention? Her boys' names all start with K.

Oh, and the new baby is a boy.

So wouldn't Kegel make a great name?

Her kids thought so.

Nikki did not.

But welcome to the world anyway Baby K (but not Kegel). You are blessed to have such a fantastic mom who entertained herself in the hospital this week-- while waiting for you to be born six weeks early--by letting one of your big sisters do this to her:

Pretty awesome mom, right? Just imagine how much fun you're going to have once you're out of that pumpkin!

* If you don't know what a Kegel is then you 1) have never given birth or 2) have some serious bladder issues if you have.  Either way, you should look it up so this post will make a little more sense

Be Careful What You Joke About

Yesterday I thought of a really awesome blogpost. But I've slept since then and now it's gone. That's sort of how things work--or don't work--in my head.

So, until I remember what I planned on writing today, I'm going to tell you a little story about a friend of mine from high school. He was a Catholic boy and I was a Mormon girl. And there were a lot of us Mormon girls (and boys too) around because, as you may remember, I'm from southern Idaho. Which, while not the heart of the Jello Belt*, is definitely the nuts and carrots.

There weren't a lot of Catholic boys around though. Only two, in fact. And a lot of us Mormon kids didn't get that my friend was a pretty good Catholic. Like go-to -Mass-while-his-parents-were-out-of-town good.  Many of my Mormon friends and I, on the other hand, were the kind of kids who tried to get out of going to church when our parents were in town. There was no way I would have shown up at church without my parents. Which is probably one reason they never left town. Ever.

But, I was the "right" religion, so clearly I was on a more direct route to Heaven. We Mormons tend to think that way sometimes. (Although, I don't think we're the only religion guilty of that kind of arrogance).

Then one day I moved. To Cleveland, Ohio. Where there are more than two Catholic boys. Many, many more. But not many more than two Mormon girls. Especially at the Catholic school where I taught. In fact, there was only one there. Me.

And I figured out that there were really a lot of good people of all different religions. And maybe I didn't have all the answers. And maybe I could learn something from all these other people that would increase my own faith in Jesus Christ and help me live my own religion a little better.

I also decided that not everybody needed to be Mormon. Actually, I think it's best that not everybody is. Things tend to get a little weird when there are too many of us in one place. Case in point: Utah. (No offense, Utah. Love you! Your mountains are awesome!) And maybe that pastor guy who offended my cousins, Mitt and John, has been there and that's why he thinks we're a cult. (He's wrong, btw).

Anyway, my point is, I'm not really a send-the-missionaries to your house kind of gal. I live my life so people can see what I believe, I talk about my beliefs, and I'll answer any question someone may have about my religion. But, unless you ask me to, I'm not gonna send any nineteen year old boys to your doorstep.

So when I saw my old high school friend this past summer, I shared this philosophy with him. And we talked about lots of other things, including the fact that he should join Facebook so he could stay in touch with me and everyone else he's tried to avoid for twenty years. I may have mentioned this a few times. Like maybe a hundred.

And guess what? He did join. So the first comment I posted to him was a very funny one about how now that I'd converted him to FB I had a book he should read and I was sending some boys in ties over to hand deliver it to him. And I laughed and I laughed at my cleverness. Because what were the odds of some missionaries showing up at his door in Boise, Idaho?

Well, pretty high actually. Because they did. And he was kind enough to offer to weed whack their ties for them (I'm sure in a very friendly way. He's not the kind of guy to seriously threaten somebody with a gardening implement). And they offered to help him with his yard work. Which probably would have been easier for them to do if they hadn't been wearing suits and ties.

I don't know if they left a copy of the Book of Mormon with him-- or if he'll read it if they did-- but, just in case, here's a little message from some of my Baptist friends.

* the Jello Belt is the region of the United States from about Boise, Idaho, through all of Utah down into Gilbert, Arizona where many, many members of the Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-Day Saints live (aka, Mormons) and consume large quantities of Jell-o concoctions they refer to as "salad". These salads often include the unlikely ingredients of vegetables-- such as carrots-- and nuts.