Generations

Picture from here

When I was a young, young adult, I spoke with an older woman and she was convinced that I was from Denmark because of my "accent."  (I don't think I have one.) She couldn't believe that I was born and raised and had lived primarily in thr Northwestern United States.

Then a few years later, my friend's husband was a graduate student teaching some class at the the university. One day he came to me and said, "You have a lot of Danish in your ancestry, don't you?"  He was asking because there was a Danish exchange student in one of his classes & he swore we could be twins-yes her hair was different & she dressed in a different style-but twins none the less.

I do have a lot of Dane in me.

In our church congregation, there is a man who's grandmother (or great-I am not sure), share's my maiden name.  Even though he is young, everytime I look at him, I see my paternal grandfather's eyes & face.

We are so connected.
________________________________________________________________________________

I just finished watching an episode of a series on PBS called "Faces of America."
It is facinating.
Henry Louis Gates, Jr. has researched the geneology and family history of a number of famous Americans.
In this episode, he asked each of his famous Americans if what they have learned has changed how they see themselves.  They all answered in different ways.

How would you answer?
How would I answer?

If we really, really knew all that our forebearers went through, how would that change us?  Would it?
Would it explain why we are drawn to certain geographical areas?  Would it explain why we prefer certain types of activites over others? Would we have different feelings towards the people around us if we knew our true connections?

Would we make different decisions based on what consequenses our choices would have on generations following us?

I Caved.

So, I caved.  Well, not I, the mrs. but I, the person with a real name.

I joined facebook this afternoon, and tonight went to a presentation by an FBI agent with a great southern accent who deals strictly with crimes against children that technology has effected in some way.  And guess what his attitude about social networking sites was--not good. 

What have I done?

If you are here visiting because of FB, welcome --and you can see more of my legs up in the upper right hand corner. (I've worked very hard for those legs.)

I probably should change that little FB thing. 

(Just in case I do change it, here's the description:  My profile picture is the same as the one here, only it's the front of my legs.  In the something section, I put, "Like my legs?  See more at becomingversed.com."  That probably would not look too good to that FBI agent, would it?)

Anyway, welcome.

I hope you can take a minute to look around and hopefully enjoy.

My favorite posts are in the funny section.

If you'd like to be introduced to my family's legs, go to the Introduction.

If you want a bit churchy with some personal notes, go to sunday school.

You can look forward to some posts about dog wrestling, true confessions and some lessons I've learned in my time here on earth.

(One of the most wonderful being that I've found a great colorist.)

Oh, and I don't usually use our real names here because of paranoia I had before tonight's presentation.  If that causes some confusion, let me know and I will try to make things a little more clear.

Hasta la Vista

and I hope you come by to visit often!

Sincerely,

the mrs

Little mr. j loves babies

portrait of baby by little mr. j

Before we get into this, I want you to know something about little mr. j. 

He is a go getter. 

He makes things happen.

Last Saturday I cut my boys' hair.  (Even my mr.'s.)

It's a selfish economic deal really.  I save money on their hair so I can spend it on mine.

The clippers are easy and they usually come out looking pretty handsome.

It works.

(Side note:  The clippers I bought this time have the coolest eyebrow attachment.  We're keeping very good care of my mr.'s old man bushy brows.)

It's a very fun time. 

Lots of interesting conversation.

And it all takes place in my bathroom. 

My bathroom, where earlier in the day a tweener son decided to go through some drawers that belong to me.  His mother. Who is female.

This is how the conversation went:

my mr., "little mr. b, why don't you ask your mom what those things you found in her drawer are for?"

little mr. b (with- I can't believe you said that dad- eyes), "mom, what are those things in your bottom drawer for?"

the mrs., "little mr. b, did you get in my drawer?" (purpose-to buy time and to think how I was going to get back at my mr. for not dealing with it when he knew about it --so not fair.)

little mr. b, "yes."

the mrs., "well, you know how mom's have babies, right? (he nodded head) well, the babies grow in a place in the mom's abdomen called the uterus."

At this point I have decided that my revenge to my mr. would be honesty.  As totally honest as possible-as far as I could take it. It's time little mr. b knew and I knew it would make my mr. un-com-fort-able.

the mrs. continues: "Every month, the uterus gets ready, just in case a baby gets made and it needs a healthy place to grow.  If an egg doesn't get fertilized by some sperm, there isn't a baby, the stuff that lines the uterus has to empty out. That stuff that lines the uterus is blood and about once a month, a women's body bleeds."

little mr. b, "Where does it come out?"

Oh boy.

I'm not writing this part.  You know it. 

We talked about how the female body is different than the male body.

little mr. b, "So how do you use that stuff?  Do you swallow it?"

fyi-said stuff he is referring to are called tampons.

I'm not writing this part either. You know it.

We talked about how the female body is different than the male body.

Then, because, I wanted to make my mr. squirm, I said, "and did you see those other things in there?  The ones that look kind of like skinny diapers?  Well, those are called pads and women use those, too."

And then, because the conversation was going swimmingly,
I added, "Would you like to know how sperm fertilize the eggs and how babies get made?"
little mr. b did not.


I had forgotton that little mr. j was sitting next to his dad, listening to this.

little mr. j wants a baby.

In a very bad way.

He jumped up and said, "YES, YES, YES, I want to know how to make a baby!"

I stopped there.

Sunday School

Today in Sunday School, we talked about Noah.
Lesson: Have faith & prepare.

Short lesson.

Ok-but this church world is so small sometimes, it's awesome.
The family we sat behind in our main meeting had an uncle visiting.  He used to live right by where we used to live in Washington state in a much different time period.
And.
I sat by a woman, in our third meeting, who lived in our Texas congregation and moved to a different one in the same area right before we moved in.  So funny to know some of the same people and to have never met until they visited some of their family who recently moved into our congregation . They've also left Texas and it was so nice to comisserate on how much we miss the lovely city we left.
(Oklahoma- I do love you.)
And.
There were no Utah connections. I don't have many Utah connections.
How about that?

How a sugar cookie set my course in life

cookies baked by the mrs, gloriously decorated by the misses

A while back, there was a television program - I think it was called "Secret Life of a Soccer Mom."  I could be wrong on the title, but here's a synopsis: they take a stay-at-home mom, find out what her dream life/career would have been had she not chosen the life at home, put her in it and see how it works.  At the end, they would offer her a chance to keep a part of that dream.

My kids asked me what I would choose to do. 

I used to want to be a spy.  I used to want to be a teacher. 

But for as long as I can remember, all I really wanted to be was a mom at home.

That's what I told them.  "My dream was to be a mom and be at home."  That probably wouldn't make the show very exciting, but I don't need documentation-I'm living my dream.

Then I started thinking--why? Why?  Why is what I've always wanted?  It's certainly not glamorous and there's little if no external validation. 

If my mom is reading this, she's going to go down the guilt road--it's all her fault, guilt, guilt, guilt. 

Stop now, please, mom. 

You were the best for me and my choices were made independant of the choices you made. 

I love you.

My choice was made all because of a sugar cookie.

A sugar cookie at a Valentine party in third or fourth grade.  Mark's mom made it.

The heart shaped cookie was thick and soft.  The frosting was light pink and beautiful.

The edge of the heart had a flowing white scallop and written on the inside was my name. 

In cursive.

Spelled correctly.

And there wasn't just a cookie for me.  There was one for every child in that class.

I was going to do that someday.  I would be that mom.

Now ask me-have you ever made those cookies for your children & classmates? 

Answer-look at the photo-I can bake, but I lack the decorating skills, besides, at all the elementaries we've attended, you have to practically knock other women over to get to the sign in sheet to be room mom & call the shots about treats and parties & all that (not that I am complaining). I'm just not into fighting other moms.

(We are blessed.)

And yes, I am that mom. 

I care. I love. I'm there.

(Well, not at every class party, but you know what I mean.)

Thank you, Mark's mom from a very, very long time ago in a classroom at Theresa Bunker Elementary.

Thank you, my mom.

Thank you, my mr.  Children don't make themselves.

Thank you, miss h, miss s, little mr. b, little mr. j for helping me eat all those cookies this weekend.

And thank you dear sugar cookie for getting me to where I am today.

The Little Fish That Died or The Dog (preface part deux, deux)

mr darcy

I am sad to report that the fish was brought home.

It was alive.

It is now dead.

It is not my fault.

As for the fish's name,

it is not my fault either.

If you would like to know what I am speaking of,

go read The Dog (preface)

and

The Dog (preface part deux).

Sunday School

Today was high counsel Sunday.
That means a man comes to speak in our main meeting and brings along another speaker.
The LDS cultural stereotype of this meeting is that it is B-o-r-i-n-g.

We have had three of these Sundays in the last five weeks.  --because of all the bad weather with canceled meetings and shortened meetings and the like.

So I went into our main meeting with a little trepidation.  I was worried about falling asleep. I was worried about my mr. falling asleep.
We are a little sleep deprived at our house.

But, hallelujuh, it was pretty entertaining and enlightening.

Topic: "Joy in the Journey"
First speaker -older gent- softer spoken- used entertaining stories from his youth to make his points about the journey of life.

Second speaker- younger gent- reminded me of my cousin, Ben-loud and fast talker (ok, Ben's not loud or fast, he just looked and used words like Ben)-far from the norm

When he said the words "suck" and "minutia" over the pulpit, I had to stop myself from laughing and saying out loud, "He said 'suck'-at the pulpit!"

I did not fall asleep. 
And I noticed my mr.'s eyes stayed wide open the whole time (ask if that happens every Sunday-it doesn't-main meeting in church is a very peaceful place for my mr.).

Speaker two's main point was finding joy through service to the Lord (by serving others).

He talked loud, he talked fast, and every one of his main points could have been a 15 minute speech in themselves.

Awesome.

I learned (again) that I really shouldn't judge.  I should just accept.
I should go to bed earlier. And---
I found joy in the journey today.
Hope you do, too.

Bad Dreams

We've  had a rash of bad dreams at our house.

I remember walking down my little girl hall, trying to find my parents, only to have the wall be a wall of monsters-moving, little monsters trying to get me. The hall kept getting longer as I walked. I can still feel the fear.

I remember having to go back to my own bed and having to be brave.  It would've been so much easier to not have to be brave alone.

So here is my statement of beliefs regarding the dreams that get to us-be they monsters or falling or deepest fears:
When they come, you should scream loud and run to your mommy's bed and get in as fast as you can and stay there.

When heads are clear and mommy asks what the dream was about.  Answer as bravely and honestly as you can.  It will help.

Especially when your dream can be described as this,
"Miss s took my cookie and then she ate it."

Oh the horror.

Sunday School

One of my precious newborns

I got to hold a nineteen hour old baby last night.

I think in my life, it's easy for me to get caught up in the "busy-ness."

It's easy to lose perspective.

To remember.

Holding that baby brought me schreechingly back to a wonderful spot.

A spot where I can remember really what life is all about.

So here's a bit about what it's all about:

A very, very long time ago, before we were all here on earth, we lived together in a place that my church calls the pre-existance.  Pre-earth life. 

We existed before we came to this earth.

We were a huge family-can you imagine it, every person who's ever lived or will live on earth was there.  And more.

I know you and I followed the same plan, because we are here on earth and you are reading this.

You see some of our family chose to follow a different plan that we did.

There was a meeting that we all attended.  We were shown a plan.  A plan in where we would come to earth, gain a mortal body and have a Savior would be provided for us.  It wouldn't be easy.  There would be tests and trials and pain.

We would have to make choices ourselves that would determine what would happen to us in the world, both on earth and after our time there.

One of our brothers didn't like that plan & came up with one that would guaranty our return.  One where our choices would be made for us.  We would all make it back.  It would not be hard.

You can probably guess what happened, which plan was used.

Our other brother was cast out, as were all of his followers. They lost the priveledge of gaining a mortal body & they were not very happy about that.

So this precious little girl in my arms is just starting her journey.  Fresh.

Just like each of us.

Everyday.

We just need to find and follow the plan.

To end tonight's little lesson, listen to this song.  It was one that I sang to one of my little newborns who screamed and cried for her first six months on earth. Click here. Hit words & music and then the play button.

For a much better (& official) description of the story click here.

And very importantly-thank you to yesterday's baby and her family for giving me that day's lesson and the honor of looking at such a new life.

collage or college

very cool picture from here

I was asked to look over a form & let the creator know if I saw any problems. Because I live in a home where I really have to work hard to keep things private (I do when I need to-promise), I had help from a daughter (and not the militant grammar girl either, it was the other daughter).

Here is the text of an email response I just sent:

quick scan-just found one typo
collage degree should read college :)

miss s says "e" for education, "a" for art.
Now she says it sounds like must have been typed in a french accent,so maybe it's ok.

So glad she's found ways to deal with her spelling issues. She's come such a long way.
(email ended here)

My lesson-so glad we kept working with her academically, otherwise she might want a degree in collages.

The Dog (preface part deux)

Miss h just informed me that she gave her science teacher a dollar so she can bring her experimental goldfish home to have as a pet. 

Um. 

Great.

Now she's yelling at me about not blogging about her goldfish that we had for two years that I don't remember.  Must have repressed that memory.

"Mom, I got it in first grade. Don't you remember the neighbor girl fed it to death?"

Um.

Great.

The Dog (preface)

Picture from here.

I think that your understanding of our family and the dog might benefit from a brief history lesson.

Pet #1   A precious orange and white tabby that chased flashlight lights and loved to watch "Are You Being Served" and "Lawrence Welk." We moved.  He went on to live with my parents and brought them much joy.

Pet #2  Some fish to entertain miss h when she was a very little one-including one of those pictured above.  This was the beginning of our downward spiral with the pets.  I have plecostumus guilt.

Pets #3 & #4  Two outside cats.  One grey tabby and one black and white.  Black and white quickly died in neighbor's field- I carried it's stiff dead body home, in a bag.

Pet #5 Aloof long hair black cat to join  #3, the very friendly grey tabby (named Fishy), who liked to help the girls wash the glass on the porch doors.

These two lived with us the longest.  We went through a lot with them.  One had an incident with a racoon and a pinned leg.  Other had an incident on the top of a very tall barn where we found out how much my mr. really loved us and how he felt about cats, but that is a wonderful story in and of itself.

These cats deserted us.  They left us to live with the sweet old cat lady who lived behind us and owned the barn. And then we moved. 

Pet #6 A hampster named Kitty. We were his second family. A very kind family adopted him when we moved from the great state of Texas. He was still alive a few months ago.  He's been around a while. Susie?

Pet #7 The dog.        I wonder when we'll move again.

(Pets # 1,2, & 6 have been our only ones allowed in the house.)

To state the obvious:  we have been very noncommittal regarding pets & we have never had a dog-until now.

Elementary Update Again

It was fun.

Elementary Update

This is what was on our elementary website this morning:

No school, Tuesday February 2
One bus in the ditch is all it would take.
Free Popcorn and Movie 1-3
Gym open - bring your own parent

So, we begin day six.
I love our little school.

Important to Know

When you've been "iced in" for five days, it is good to be grateful for your fortuitous action of purchacing a collection of cheap videos of your childhood past from a chain store that takes aim at your demographic.

But wait there's more:

Roy Hinkley was a world renowned Scoutmaster, how fortuitous.
(My mr just told me that Scoutmaster is one word-and capitalized. Fixed it. Oh, I have so much to learn.)

What have we been watching?

Stay tuned tomorrow, as our five day tour turns into six-at least for the big kids, no word yet on the elementary.