Motherhood

Yesterday was one of those Sundays when it might have been better for me to skip Relief Society all together. The lesson was on motherhood, and as any woman who has ever been to Relief Society knows, that can become a touchy subject for many women for many reasons. A volatile subject.

The teacher was a woman who I know and like very much. In fact she’s my visiting teacher, so we’ve had lots of long conversations, and I think the world of her. She started her lesson by acknowledging that there are women in our ward living in all different circumstances: some married with young children, some married without children, some never married at all, some whose children are grown up and gone… and she wanted to share the idea that all women everywhere still have the divine trait of motherhood and can use it. But because almost all of the women in the room (rather than being a diverse group) were women with children who had given up work to be stay-at-home moms, most of the comments came from that perspective and defended that lifestyle, which, I think, threw the lesson off its course. The comments focused on the worldly view of motherhood, and how it makes those who stay at home rather than having career feel like they don’t measure up, like they’re “just a mom” or “just a housewife”. It was the typical discussion, and of course the underlying agreement was that there’s nothing in the whole world more important for a woman to do than to raise children.

I believe that. I believe very strongly in the role of motherhood, and in the principles of family that the church teaches. I always have, and maybe that’s why I always start to squirm in lessons like this. It’s hard to know that the path your life has taken is off track, that you’re not fulfilling your most divine role, and that nothing else in this world will ever be as good. So, when faced with these situations, I just sit quietly and wait for the lesson to be over so that I can go home, and maybe cry.

But, there was one woman in the crowd who couldn’t sit quietly. She raised her hand and told us all that she had always been a working mom because she had to be in order to support her family, and then she broke into tears. She said a few times over that her children were always her first priority, but she couldn’t say much more because she was really crying. I think that what others had said had hurt her, and made her feel like she hadn’t done things right, and she was trying to speak up for herself but couldn’t.

The teacher, at this point, said that she understood that women in the Church lived in so many different circumstances, and many have to work, and that there’s nothing wrong with that, and then she tried to get back to her original message. And that’s when she picked me out of the crowd and started asking me questions about how I feel about my divine role as a mother.

If she was looking for someone who could be a cheerleader for the single girls who love acting like moms, she chose the wrong single girl.

I said, “These lessons are always painful for me.” And then I stumbled and stammered and searched for words. She said, “You have nieces, right?” People love to mention the nieces and nephews, like they’re a consolation prize.

“Yes, I do, and I love them. I’ve loved spending time with them. They’ve given me a lot of joy. But do they replace having children of my own? No, of course not.”

I think that then another woman raised her hand and mentioned that her children have an unmarried aunt, and that she’s been a huge influence and very important and other nice things. I was so uncomfortable at this point that I wasn’t really listening.

Then the teacher asked me again, “But how does it make you feel to know that you still have this divine role as a mother?”

“It hurts.” What I meant was that it’s hard to hear because it just makes me feel like the most important part of my life is missing, but I couldn’t get that out, so I just said, “I think that people have to accept things, and make the best of it” and then I let it go. She didn’t call on me anymore.

I sat there fighting back the tears, feeling like a spotlight had just been blasted on me at my most vulnerable, and like I had just derailed this poor woman’s lesson. But I just couldn’t give her the answers she was looking for. I couldn’t tell her that even though I’m single I’m still working all the time to mother people and am so fulfilled and happy. I can’t say that with any sincerity because I simply don’t believe it.

After the lesson many of the women gave me hugs and told me that they loved me and said that they appreciated my honesty. The teacher and I hugged each other too. There are no hard feelings. I really appreciated the outpouring of support. At least I could go home without feeling like I had ruined Relief Society.

I’ve thought a lot about the whole scene since and here’s what I’ve come up with. I understand what the teacher was trying to tell us: women are blessed with a natural ability to nurture, to reach out to others, to take care of them, and to love. And any woman, no matter her situation, can develop those qualities.

But I can do that without having to think of myself as a mother. It wouldn’t be healthy for me to think that I had to somehow find a way to fulfill a divine calling that simply doesn’t fit, not now, not like this. Life has enough pressures without having to live up to something like that. I love the children in my life, love them like crazy, and we’ve had a lot of fun together, but that doesn't make me a mother. They have mothers, and I think that it would be a slight to their mothers to think that I am also filling that role. That's not what they need from me. They need me to be Angie, their aunt, their friend, another person in this world who loves them. Their main support system is in their own home with their parents, and that’s how it should be. I’m a little something extra.

No, if I were to base my self-worth on whether or not I was fulfilling my role as a mother, I wouldn’t get out of bed in the morning. Instead I find my self-worth in who I really am – a daughter of God, a sister, an aunt, a daughter, a friend. And if the people in my life need a little extra nurturing from me, then they know I’ll give it. I’ll hug them so tight it hurts. But at the same time I’m a single girl. I am independent, self-supporting, and learning to value myself for myself. And I really believe that if I learn that now then I will be a better person, and a better mother should that day come.

Women everywhere are constantly bombarded with things that can make them feel bad about themselves. Even those who live the ideal, who have a good husband and are able to stay home with their children, can still feel like they’re not enough. It’s at those times when a sincere prayer will fill in the empty spaces. Trust in the Lord’s love. And then call a friend. If you need to, call me. I’m not your mother, but I'm happy to help.

A Week in Review

Hello All. How do you feel about reviving A Week in Review? I feel ok about it, so let’s go.

Community
I have a new tv show, and it’s called Community, and man is it funny. It’s on Thursday nights at 7, the lead-in to NBC’s much-loved must-see Thursday (I just used a lot of hyphens), which is pretty much the only thing that network is still doing right (my apologies for jumping on the boooo to NBC bandwagon. I’ve been watching way too many awards shows lately and it’s all they talk about). I don’t know that this show gets much advertising or promotion, but it should because it is good, and if they want it to stay on the air as much as I do, then someone needs to start letting people know about it. I started watching just because it is on before the other Thursday night staples, The Office, 30 Rock. Now I find myself laughing out loud more often at this than at any of the others, and then I’ll rewind and watch parts again. It’s comedy gold. And it’s followed by Parks and Recreation – good too.

Speaking Of
We got the DVR a couple of months ago. I honestly could not have cared less about it before we had it. In fact there was a time when I thought that basic cable was way too much money, more than it’s worth. The money people will pay just to watch television is astonishing! But, Melissa found a good deal on adding the DVR, so I said, “Fine, whatever.” And now I love it. I feel like I’ve compromised my own personal moral values in falling in love with DVR, because it is just television and shouldn’t play such a deeply emotional part in a girl’s life, but man is it nice to know that a show is recording, and to fast forward through commercials, and the re-watch scenes. It’s a beautiful thing.

Technically Challenged
I like to think that I’m up on the workings of this new, high-tech world we live in. The people that I work with think that I’m a computer wizard because I can answer their questions, which are usually something like, “How do I make this print?” or “How do I save this document in my file?” I’m not making that up to be funny. They really ask these questions. It’s because the average age here is 71 years old. When I tell them how to do what they want to do, I get a lot of, “You’re a genius!” and “Oh Angie, you’re so smart.” It’s good for the soul, but it’s also given me a bloated image of my technical savvy. In the real world, I’m not so hot. I was reading a post from Tiffany earlier this week, and she was talking about all of the songs she’s been downloading lately, and I commented on the fact that I have never, not once, downloaded a song. Never. The closest I’ve come is downloading two ringtones for my phone (Coldplay, awesome), and even then I kind of screwed it up and paid way more money for them than I should have. I’ve never handled an iPod. If I’ve touched one, it’s only because I was with a niece or nephew who has one, and even then I can’t recall a specific time when I held an iPod in my hands. And now there’s all of this i-everything else out there. I’ll never get caught up. I’ve played the WII and Rock Band, also with nieces and nephews, and have super sucked at everything except being the lead singer on Rock Band. I can carry the tune, not well, but still carry.

The fact of the matter is…I’m simply not that interested. I guess I don’t see this as a fault, but it can put me in rather awkward situations when it’s obvious that I’m still living in the early 2000s (really, not that long ago). Still, I’m ok with my status. I didn’t play Atari or Pacman when they were new, either. I was never one to buy many cds. I’d still rather make a phone call then send a text, and when I’m reading a book I want to hold a BOOK, not a computer screen. Books just feel so good. Why would anyone replace that? I suppose the day will come when I’m asking much younger people to help me do something that they find ridiculously easy, and let it come. Then I’ll get to be the one who says, “You’re a genius.”

Some Changes Need to be Made
I’m a moody girl. This isn’t news to any one of you. It’s not news to me. I’ve always had streaks where I’m too grumpy, too emotional, too impatient, or just want to be left alone, but over the last year or more I think that it’s gotten to be too much. I think that my moodiness has at become a burden to others, and I’ve never wanted that. What I haven’t realized is how my attitude has made others feel, or the impression it’s left on them. I’ve always vented, and then felt better, and then moved on without seeing that I’ve left a black trail of muck behind. The muck needs to be cleaned up. I need to become the master of my moods. This isn’t to say I’ll never again get mad as ****, I’m just not going to dump it all over everyone. There will still be those trusted few who I will talk to when I need someone, but all of the people I work with, or see in the mall, or ride with in the elevator will no longer get the evil eye from me. And I’m going to be more rational about what’s worth getting worked up over and what isn’t. Most things aren’t. I’m hoping that by the end of this transformation I will be a pleasant person again, like I used to be, when I was young.

Transitioning
Another transition – I’m working on my weight an overall health, and have found that transitioning into better habits has worked better for me than trying to make dramatic changes all at once. First I gave up sugar (with a few slips, but for the most part doing well), and then moved on to overly-processed starches. I’m even thinking (Nicole) of giving up the Diet Coke. Ouch, just writing that made me hurt all over, but I am thinking about it. I’ve been walking more regularly, and have been happy with how much better I feel. I’m a work in progress. Then again, aren’t we all?

Well my friends, I think that’s it for today. Thanks, as always, for your continued support.
You are loved.

An Apology and a Random Theory, Neither Having Anything to do with the Other

I feel like I should apologize for the recent and total lameness of this blog. It's practically on life support. I'm sorry. I just haven't been feeling it. I guess that's normal, for ideas and inspiration to come and go (assuming that I've ever been inspired). Even A Week in Review has lapsed lately. I can only apologize again. It's not that I've been feeling down. In fact, I'm doing well. There has been an intense family drama going on, really more Marla's family than mine, her brother-in-law is ill, and last Friday I wrote about that, but later went back and deleted it. He's been in very, very bad shape, and I went with her to see him, and it was heartbreaking. So I wrote a very long story about the experience, but the more I thought about it, the more I felt like it was too sad and too heavy/melo-dramatic, and not really something I wanted here. So it's gone. Are you curious now? Feel free to submit questions in the comments section and I'll try to get back to you.

Other than that....I saw a good movie last Saturday, "When in Rome". I went in with no expectations, so was surprised at how much I enjoyed it. That Josh Duhamel is a charmer. See...


That reminds me of one of my more recent theories. A few weeks ago there was a special election in Massachusetts, where Democrats typically win without contest. But this time Republican Scott Brown won making the political pundits all throw their hands in the air and run around in circles screaming, "What can this mean?!" I think I know what it means. Let's look at the men who have over the years won office in Massachusetts:

John F. Kennedy - Democrat, US Senator and then President

His brother, Ted Kennedy - Democrat, US Senator for a long, long time.

Mitt Romney - Republican, elected Governor in 2002.

And now Scott Brown - Republican, US Senator.

Look closely at these pictures and you'll see that what the people of Massachusetts really want is a handsome white man with a good head of hair. That's their representation. I should send one of my brothers to Boston, and he'd soon be in public office. Probably without running. He'd probably be approached on the street and asked to please take over for a current, less attractive, Representative. If Josh Duhamel ever wants to try politics, after saving the world from the Decepticons and wooing Kristen Bell, then he should move to Massachusetts.

That's my theory.

While at work on Saturday I started forming a list, much like my 10 things I wish missionary mom's knew list, for retail shoppers. I think it will take shape and be posted soon. In the mean time, I'm sorry for the lame blog, and I hope that pictures of handsome men will somehow redeem it, although I don't have much hope.

Football

I watched the Minnesota Vikings lose their championship game on Sunday. It was painful. They were so close and really should have had it. I admit I had my hopes up too high and was already planning the Super Bowl party with the family, and on buying a sweatshirt. Hopes dashed, it’s a crushing blow. I suppose, though, that it’s harder for the team than it is for me.

I’m not much of a sports nut. I’m what people lovingly, or through gritted teeth, refer to as a “fair-weather fan”. I get excited when a home team is winning because it really is fun, but otherwise I don’t pay much attention. But, I have always kept my eye on the Vikings. I like to know how their season in going. It’s a tie to home, and to good childhood memories.

Fall in Minnesota is gorgeous. Fresh, crisp air, cool sweatshirt weather, that chill in the morning, the leaves changing to brilliant colors, and Sunday afternoons with football on television. We’d sit down to Sunday dinner with a game on in the background. Games were on all afternoon. I think my affection for football has more to do with that picture of home than with the actual game. Although, a good long pass down the field to an open receiver is always exciting.

My brothers were the real fans. Back in the 70s the Vikings had a running back named Chuck Foreman who they idolized. They even made up a game in his honor – Chucky Passes. One would throw the football in some crazy way and then the other had to kill himself to catch it. The idea was that Chuck could catch anything, so they tried to create and then catch the impossible pass. Chucky Passes, great name.

Aaron and Barry often recruited (sometimes with force) me, Marla and Shane into playing football in the back yard. We had huge yard with a stretch of grass that was long, maybe 30 yards, and straight, and that was our field. The boys split up as team captains. They’d split Marla and me because we’re girls, and then Shane was added to a team, three against two. We’d huddle, and Aaron or Barry, whoever’s team I was on, would explain the play we were going run. They’d put their fingers in the grass, “This is me. Ang, you’re here. When I say ‘hut’, you run to this side. I’ll fake a handoff, and then you go out for the pass.” All of this was drawn in the grass, leaving little holes between the blades where his fingers were.

All of our plays were planned out. I wasn’t a great player (although I can, to this day, throw a nice spiral), and sometimes I had to face the wrath of an older brother when a pass wasn’t caught, or I messed up somehow. It’s a tough game, and Marla and I had to be tough girls. We played full-on tackle. Those guys plowed us into the grass, and we did the same to them. I remember wrapping my arms around Barry’s waist and dragging him to the ground. Nice.

Courtney was so much younger than the rest of us that he didn’t get in on those games, but he and I played when he was older, mostly easy games of catch. We’d go for walks down our gravel road and take the football with us. He’d run out ahead and I’d throw it to him, and then I’d run out and he’d throw it. “Go deep”, that’s what we said when we wanted to other to run out for a pass. “Go deep.” That’s it, and we knew exactly what to do. He liked to tackle, too. I always had to keep one eye on him because he’d come at me from out of nowhere and smack! I’d be on the ground. He still wants to do that, even though we’re way too old now. Sometimes he’ll look at me and say, “Tackle?” and I’ll say, “No!” It hurts, hitting the ground that hard. I hate it. I’m pretty sure that he plagues his wife and kids with the same thing. Court played on the school’s team through high school. I remember mom telling me that after the last game of his senior year he was honestly sad for days. It was hard for him to know that he was done for good.

So when people ask me what my favorite sport is I say football. I’m clueless about the different teams (other than to recognize the names) and they’re players and stat details and so-and-so’s career, but still I love that game. Love it. And the family and I will have good food and watch the Super Bowl in a couple of weeks even though the Vikings won’t be there. It’s a Sunday afternoon, and those are made for football. Why mess with tradition?

A Week in Review

The good news is I’m not dead yet. In fact I just took a walk in the fresh cool air, cleared my head, and feel ready for A Week in Review.

History
As most of you know I like history, especially British history. The stories are fascinating, and I love to put all of the pieces together, with the people in their places, and see how it all fits, and then see what comes next. Each generation builds on the last. Sometimes it’s hard to see the connections. You can look at today, and then at an event from 500 years ago, and the past doesn’t seem to have anything to do with the present. But if you can see how that one event lead to another and then another, creating a domino effect right up to today, then you begin to realize that everything we have is the result of the work of many people over many years. It’s brilliant.

I suppose most history nuts have specific people that they are especially interested in. For me two of those people are Anne Boleyn and her daughter Queen Elizabeth of England. Going to London was something that I’d wanted to do for as long as I can remember. I think that’s common, too, having a place in mind that you’ve always wanted to see. Mine was London. I read travel books and studied maps for years, so when Melody and I went in 2008 it was almost like going home. I know that sounds strange (although the countryside does look just like Minnesota), but the place had been in my head for so long that it was familiar. A huge and overwhelming and mind-blowing city, yes, but still familiar.

Our first evening there we decided to spend some time in the National Portrait Gallery.
It's just what the title says – a portrait gallery. Every portrait done of every king, queen, noblemen, statesman, writer, artist or person worth mentioning in England is in that gallery. We went to the section dedicated to the Tudors, Kings Henry VII, Henry VIII (and his six wives), Edward VI, Queen Mary and Queen Elizabeth. Anne Boleyn was one of Henry VIII’s wives, so her portrait is included in this part of the gallery. It’s a picture that I had seen in books many times before, but standing in front of the original was completely different. It drew me in. I studied every feature, the colors, the expression, and when I’d stood there more than long enough and walked away, I kept looking back until I’d rounded a corner and couldn’t see her anymore. None of the other portraits affected me like Anne’s did. Who knows why.

The next day we went to the Tower of London, a very famous landmark for lots of reasons. Anne Boleyn died here, and Elizabeth was jailed here by her sister Queen Mary for a short time (I won't go into the whole story). Again at the Tower I felt strong emotions, like the people who'd lived there for the 1000 years that it's been standing were still all around. There’s a set of stairs that go from the river up into the Tower, and it’s said that when Elizabeth was taken there she sat on those stairs and, either out of fear or anguish, was frozen to the spot until the guards pulled her up. You can see those stairs now through the gates, and I stared at them for a long time. I actually teared up. Seems silly now. The stairs and I shared a moment.

The Tower of London

A marker on the Tower grounds where Queen Anne died.

Traitor's gate, where Elizabeth was brought into the tower. You can see the steps through the woodwork at the top.

So what’s my point with all of this and what does it have to do with this week? Well I’ll tell you. Some time ago a guy in my ward told me that we can start using the new Family Search program that the Church has been building for years. I remembered that this morning and decided to log on and see what it was all about. I think I’ve mentioned before that I've dabbled in family history. My sister-in-law, Andrea, is our family expert (every family has one), and all of what I have to work with I’ve gotten from her, including my enthusiasm. I had looked at our pedigrees enough to see that my Mom’s side of the family needed some work, so I’ve spent time on that off-and-on over the last few years ago. In a few different searches on a few different websites I found that someone else (a very distant relative) had done a good deal of research on this part of my family and had posted it! Hooray! The line took our family all the way back to Virginia in the 1600s. I downloaded the information and shared it with Andrea, and I think that she loaded it into the church site.

That’s where I started looking on Family Search today. I found those ancestors in Virginia, and then started going back through the line into England, and then I saw a name, Thomas Howard. The Howards were a powerful family in the court of King Henry VIII, but I wasn’t sure that this man belonged to the same Howards. I clicked on a few different links and there it was - Thomas Howard had a sister named Elizabeth who married Thomas Boleyn, and they had a daughter named Anne Boleyn. Anne eventually married Henry VIII and they had a daughter, Elizabeth. We're related. A very, very distant relation, yes, but still there’s a connection. My great, great, great, etc, etc grandfather was Anne’s uncle and Elizabeth’s great-uncle. Can you believe that? I can’t believe it, and I can’t tell you how thrilled I am.

History is more than a bunch of names and dates, it’s the story of the lives of real people, and of how their lives connect to ours. And family history is the same but with a more profound effect. I have felt something for these two women for YEARS, and today, today, I learned that we come from the same family. They are a part of my personal heritage. Of course, every person has countless ancestors, and my heritage comes from Norwegians and Belgians along with the Brits. There’s a little piece of all of them in me, and all of their lives have come together to create mine. It really is brilliant.

And speaking of connections
I have a nephew named Andrew (aka Drew) who likes to pretend that he is characters from his favorite shows, and when he’s being one of these characters you have to call him by that name or he’s outraged. Courtney (my brother, his dad) will sometimes get after him about something and say, “Drew you need to do this” or “stop doing that”, and Drew will look at him and say, “I’m Hammer Head”. Nice. Please disregard everything that was just said. Dad was addressing the wrong person.

Sidenote - You all know what the missing link is, right, in science and evolution? It’s a term used for the phase of evolution that connects the creatures, like apes and humans, for example. The missing link is the final gap between the two. It’s also the name of a character on “Monsters Vs. Aliens”.

Back to the story. Today I was talking to Andrea (Drew’s mom) on the phone, and Drew wanted to say hi. So he got on, and I said, “Hi Drew!” and he said, “I’m The Missing Link”. Really?! You know, now that I think about it, Drew does have a large forehead and likes to plow through a room like a gorilla on a rampage, so maybe…

Well, I think that’s enough for today. Thanks, as always, for your continued attention.
You are loved.

Maybe This all Started with Me Getting Older

Last Sunday I was having a nice dinner with Barry, Melody and The Girls. I don’t know what brought this on, but I started talking about the dangers of me having a medical emergency in the middle of the night and having no one there to help me. I’m getting close to 40 and it’s messing with my head. Oh, and Sierra was telling us about a girl in her apartment building at school who had appendicitis and had to be taken to the emergency room during the night. That kind of talk always makes me wonder, “If something like that happened to me, how long would I lay there before someone found me? Days, weeks….”

So I said, “If I died during the night I would lay there for a week before anyone figured it out.”

Barry looked at me with his eyebrows scrunched together like “What are you talking about?”

Melody, “I’m sure I would wonder if I hadn’t heard from you for a week. Or work would call to find out where you are. ” Yeah, a lot of good that would do when I’m unconscious.

Someone else pointed out that I do, in fact, have a roommate.

Me, “Yeah, but if I’m leaving for work one morning and see that she’s still in bed, I just figure that she’s not feeling well or maybe has a day off. I don’t knock on the door and go in there.”

Melody, “But you would if she was still there when you got home.” Well maybe. I shrugged and mumbled something. But the truth is that up until now it’s not likely that I would have. Melissa and I both have days when we need a good amount of alone time, and we respect that, and I rarely knock on her door when she’s in her room. Honestly, it would be DAYS…

Barry, whose eyebrows are now deeply furrowed in his head, “It’s not like you’re 85….” Always the voice of reason. But still you never know. You never know.

So of course that moved to the inevitable talk about choking on food while alone and having to try the Heimlich maneuver over a chair. It’s every single woman’s fear. In fact, I’ve seen this acted out on tv shows more than once, Liz Lemon on 30 Rock for example. You start having disturbing thoughts about being alone, and then one day a piece of chicken gets caught in the throat and you’re desperately running around the apartment looking for a chair. It’s a rational fear.

Barry still thinks I’m ridiculous.

So last night when I got home from the bookstore, Melissa was in the spare room working on her computer. I knocked, opened the door and said hello. We had some friendly chit-chat, and then I told her about our Sunday dinner conversation. She thought it was all pretty funny (honestly, everyone refuses to be afraid that I might lay dead in my room for a week). Then we decided that we should come up with a plan, a point at which we go into the other’s room and check for breathing. We established that it’s always ok for either of us to wake up the other at night if we feel like we need medical attention. But as far as either of us checking on the other...it's still kind of a gray area. I'd hate to wake her up for no reason.

Later I thought about notes that can be posted on the bedroom doors if we’re in there for a long time, just avoid being bothered when it’s not necessary. Something like, “I’m ok.” “I don’t feel well, but you don’t need to worry.” And then we could have the in case of emergency series, “Please call the ambulance.” “I’ve fallen and I can’t get up.” Of course, that last one might be hard to stick on the outside of the door, if indeed I can’t get up, but maybe with a well-designed series of ropes and pulleys…I’ll have to work that out.

The good news is that after talking to Melissa I feel reassured. No, I haven’t honestly been scared of dying in my sleep and no one finding me until the neighbors report a bad smell and a CSI team has to break down the door. But weird things do go through your head when you’re on your own, and it’s nice to know that Melissa is there. It’s always good to have someone there.

And Now if You'll Please Turn Your Attention to Me

I just want to point out that I successfully created my own blog header from a picture of my own bookshelf. Feel free to leave compliments in the comments section.