A not-so-perfect "Mormon" mom

Shoes are interesting things. Weird, I know. But I recently bought a new pair of shoes. Why would this matter? Well, in reality, it doesn’t. But here’s the thing, I don’t buy anything with a heal. Except now. Not a huge heal, maybe only an inch or so, but it’s a big difference to me. While the shoes are currently quite uncomfortable, I know they will stretch out and work better. I have other shoes of this same brand that I wear to work because of their arch support. So, I have some confidence that these shoes will also be comfortable. But these shoes somehow make me feel different about myself. More confident maybe, or more dressy, or more feminine, or sexy, or something. They aren’t fancy or really very fashionable (not that I know anything about fashion). I really think the heal makes a difference. I can’t really explain it because I don’t understand how a simple shoe could change “me”, but it does. And then I go home and immediately remove the shoes because they a...

This morning on  my way to work I had an epiphany. I realized that I am more patient with my children because I stopped trying to control them. For years I felt like I needed to control everything they did and said and thought. I had trials/struggles/lessons over and over again in patience. Apparently, I’m a slow learner. But I guess I slowly started figuring it out. I can’t put an exact moment, just maybe a lot of years of ‘learning’. I guess I finally realized that the only thing that I really have control over is me. (What!?) I can certainly beg, bargain, remind, and plead – er, I mean, guide – my children to do their chores and homework and piano and viola and, and, and….. but I can’t force them. Ultimately, they choose their path. I hope that  my “guidance” helps them, somehow, somewhere, with their life decisions. I really just want them to be happy, responsible adults – but I can’t FORCE them to be happy or responsible. (I can, however, get them out...

Next week my oldest child turns 21. I texted him and asked if we could take him to dinner for his birthday, but a couple days before his birthday. And I asked him where he would want to go for dinner. His response: Home. Wow! Seriously, he wants to come home for his birthday dinner with his family. Maybe during the five months he's been out on his own, he figured out that his family isn't so bad to be around. (It sure does a mother's heart good.) Or, maybe he just wants home made food. I don't know what he eats, but I doubt much of it is home made - or as good as we make it at home. I guess what you grow up with is comfort food and when you have a birthday it's good to be around those that you feel comfortable with, eating food you love. My second oldest child will be coming back home in about two weeks, the duration of which is unknown at this time. She said she is ready to come home and has learned a bit while she's been gone. I'm glad for both. Th...

A couple of weeks ago, on a Tuesday, I received a call from the executive secretary. Can you come and talk to Brother S tonight? Now, usually, I'm up for whatever, but that day - was bad. I can't even remember why it was a bad day, but most likely it was hormonal. I was grumpy. I didn't want anyone around. I didn't want to talk to anyone. I had come home from work and put on my pajamas and went to the closet to hide. Yep, it was like that. So, when he called and asked that question, my response was something like, "He's over the young women, right? Then, no, I can't come in." Of course I was sarcastic, but mostly serious. And, of course, I went in (but not without a good cry first, and a meager attempt at humility). "We'd like to call you to be a Beehive advisor in the young women." "I'd rather teach Gospel Doctrine." "We have an opening for that as well." "I'd rather be in the nursery." "We...

I am all for self reliance. Unless it involves home canning. Ok, so I'm not against home canning, unless I have to do it. My mom did it while I was growing up. We all had to help. Turning the crank on the food mill thing and watching the tomato skins and seeds "poop" out the end while the juice squished down into the pan. That's the one memory of home canning I can actually remember. I know we did it more, I just don't remember all the other times. Home canning is not something I enjoy. I rarely do it on my own. (In fact, I think the last time I did it on my own was when we lived in Dammeron Valley and I juiced grapes.) My sweet husband is the 'instigator' in any home canning we do. I'm not completely opposed to helping, I would just rather do just about anything else (but I don't, because I love him and know he would help me with stuff even if he would rather do anything else). Our current canning project is apples. And more apples. We have, I t...

I've surprised myself this morning. Yesterday I invited my son, C, to dinner today. The surprise is that I think I'm actually excited. Does that mean some healing has been happening? Possibly. What do I do when I'm excited about a dinner guest? Cook and bake. I don't mind baking, I just don't do it very often. But this morning I made meatloaf and cheesy potatoes, they're in crock pots. I made a family favorite dessert. I made bread. And now I have breakfast cookies in the oven. It's not quite 11:00 in the morning. Should I be doing all this "work" on Sunday? Some may say no. Others may be ok with it. In my world, baking is usually done for the family to enjoy. So, for me, I guess, it is service. Service is what life is about, hand in hand with love.