I don’t feel like writing anything about today. How about I go downstairs and pull out my box of journals from storage and see what I was doing on January 28th sometime in my life?
Oh, look, here is my red suede journal from 2001 and there is an entry for January 28th.
Sunday, January 28, 2001
Doing well…
Working on patience with my children
Working on keeping the television turned off
Working to be more well-read in many books
Family is doing a marvelous job reading the B of M every day
Children going to bed earlier
The laptop works
Richard is supportive of seminary
Scripture study and lesson plans [for seminary] are good
1 degree off flight plan [makes] 1 mile difference for every 60 miles travelled (sic).
A flight plan parallels the mortal experience– am I on the right course
Punctuation and spelling are irrelevant to me in 2001. I was teaching the New Testament in seminary that year. I think that flight plan stuff came from a talk by President Gordon B. Hinckley. Incidentally, in 2001, I thought his last name was spelled, “Hinkley”. All of my seminary handouts carry the incorrect spelling.
I never travel without my diary. One should always have something sensational to read on the train.
The weekend was good. I hope yours was, too. Richard and I went to Lamb’s Grill (est. 1919) after I picked him up from his business trip. We watched the documentary, Mitt. We went to the temple. We took the kids out for Italian food because Mark wanted bread sticks. Richard was busy with church stuff and I worked on the family album. Timothy had a friend over most of the time. Daniel kept the house filled with music from his computer. He’s been listening to movie soundtracks lately. Paige worked on projects in her room. We miss her a bit. Mark began a new piano piece called Creepy Crocodile and changed clothes every few hours, as usual.
I am looking forward to a visit with my parents tonight and reserving tickets to attend the Sacred Gifts exhibit at BYU.
Richard comes home this morning from Phoenix. I am so glad. We’re meeting for lunch in downtown Salt Lake City. How shall I do my hair? What shall I wear?
Decisions, decisions.
Here’s a parting thought for the weekend from a book that I am enjoying.
“It is an happy loss to lose oneself in admiration at one’s own Felicity: and to find GOD in exchange for oneself: Which we then do when we see Him in His Gifts, and adore His glory.”
I have been watching episodes of The Wonder Years in the background of my days while the kids are away. Season 3 is my favorite. Nearly episode makes me cry tears of memory, regret, and nostalgia. I love how they depict the mother in that show. Norma is the stay-at-home mom of the 1960’s. She keeps a spotless home and she is almost always in the kitchen. I snicker when I see the scenes where the family sits at the table, watching her cook, waiting for their meal to appear. While a woman working in the kitchen alone seems antiquated, I find that her presence in the kitchen and home is one of the things that draws me to the show. She magnifies the feeling of “home.” It is good that her family can count on her.
But Norma 1. isn’t real and 2. represents a different time. However, comparing my life to a stay-at-home mother (Norma) of the 1960’s can be instructive. On the positive side, I have more appliances to do the work that Norma did. I have an education and opportunities that Norma didn’t have. While I keep house and cook a lot, it’s with diminished expectations (my family doesn’t just sit and watch me do everything). On the negative side, the network of stay-at-home moms that Norma enjoyed is gone. In almost every neighborhood that we have lived, my stay-at-home life has been LONELY because so many women are at work during the day. Now that I have sent the kids to school, the house feels extremely lonely.
Is it the best use of my life to be by myself most of the day? Many women decide to get more education or go to work when their kids are all in school. Why don’t I want to do these things?
Should I be doing more? These thoughts don’t come from any feeling of boredom; I honestly have plenty to do. These thoughts don’t come from any feelings of inferiority. I know that I am capable and of value. However, something influences my thoughts and implies that what I do may not be enough.
No job has a 100% satisfaction rate and everyone is under-appreciated in some way, but it would be nice if there were fewer voices telling me that what I am doing is not enough.
The voices distill from hundreds of sources and have surrounded me my whole life. Even The Cosby Show’s mother needed to be an attorney to be relevant. Homemakers are parodied and trivialized almost everywhere. Feminist messages affect me, not in a way that entices me to agree with them, but they perplex me because I don’t feel the same angst. Am I missing something because I don’t share their frustration?
“What do you DO all day?” (said in an accusatory voice) and “Women should be allowed to realize their full potential in the workplace!” are some echoing remarks that I feel obligated to think about, but they don’t influence me to change my personal choices. I have exhausting exchanges in my mind where I try to defend my lifestyle to a critic. I lose every time. But that doesn’t mean that I am wrong. I’ve always been a poor debater. And what is right for my life isn’t right for everyone. Amen.
I acknowledge that I am in a privileged position to have the option to stay home instead of go to work. It’s important to me that it’s understood that we make financial sacrifices so I can stay home, too.
Perhaps it could be said that I sacrificed a bit of personal ambition to be a homemaker. I didn’t pursue a career that I loved. I have walked away from obligations that required too much time away from family, but these either never did or no longer feel like sacrifices. My small sacrifice is that I endure some degree of physical, emotional, and intellectual loneliness to be a full-time homemaker.
I enjoy a lot of freedom, so it seems a little silly to say that I sacrifice much of anything to take care of my home and family full-time. I’m going to continue as a modern version of Norma for a while longer. I think I’m needed here at home more than anywhere else. It’s one of those lovely paradoxes of life that after “sacrificing” for my family, I have an abundance of options before me in the walls of the home I have helped create.
Disclaimer: Please don’t get in a fluff over this post if you disagree with my thoughts. I’m not writing about anyone but myself and Norma here.
I made birthday cards for the Young Women last weekend to save a little money. The supplies were donated and I took the challenge of making something from a box of paper I didn’t choose. I cut out all of the flower embellishments and made each one a little different from the next. As I gazed down at my finished creations, I wondered if the girls would even like them. What if my idea of a cute card is a little outdated, but in a non-cool, un-retro way? And they took so much time to make!
There was a time several years ago when I would create handmade cards and scrapbook pages, but I’m just not into it lately. Digital scrapbook making is so fast that I now see how time-consuming paper crafts can be. If I loved doing it, that would be fine, but I seem to be moving on. I see many others doing the same. I hope that with all of the time-saving technology that I have, that some of my extra time is dedicated to reaching out to others in concrete ways, not just through wispy texts and social media.
I mourn the loss of real, tangible correspondence. If these cards can extend the life of a sweet tradition of card giving, maybe it wasn’t a waste of time to make these, after all.
Daniel’s Teachers Quorum presidency stopped by on Sunday to get to know him better. Echoes of their conversation and laughter from the living room were welcome additions to our Sunday afternoon rest. I was so impressed with this visit that I took a photo of these 14 and 15 year olds as they walked away so I could remember the moment.
They came without an adult leader.
They asked questions about Daniel’s life and interests.
They were dressed in their Sunday best.
They were polite and cheerful.
Just, wow. These are the kind of missionaries this world will need when it’s time for them to serve.
Timothy is a “Webelos Super Achiever” because he earned every activity pin. We are pretty proud of him! We attended his last Cub Scout Pack Meeting last week.
He walked across the bridge to Boy Scouts…
and got to sign his name on the bridge.
I enjoy seeing the older version of Timothy’s personality emerging through his work in scouting, piano, school, and among friends. He LOVES to ski. He would go every weekend if he could. He plows through the books. His bedroom is decorated with Hobbit-themed Lego sets. We like him quite a bit.
Can’t… come… up… with… content. Sorry, family and friends. I have nothing palatable to write this week. I’ve been trying to write a thoughtful post for days, but I feel stymied.
Is it because I have been reading Tolstoy and feel my lack more deeply than usual?
Is it because I am trying to wrap my head around the new year?
Is it because I am so busy trying to get physical things in order at the house that I can’t write?
Is it because what I feel like writing about is too personal?
Is it because my internet has been wonky this week? (If wonky isn’t a word, it should be. It describes our internet service perfectly.)
It’s all of those things and probably more.
Here are some photos of what I have been doing this week. Hey, my life is boring, but it’s mine and I love it.
One day I went through all of the boys’ clothing and placed size labels on each hand-me-down. Apparently I do NOT need any more size 8 pants for boys. I feel defeated by clothing. Daniel’s current rate of growth means he wears something for only a few weeks and then it’s too short. Keeping him in adequate Sunday pants is too much for me, apparently.Our current filing system just wasn’t working for us, (stashed beneath our bed on a box top which we would slide out when necessary) so this week I fixed that.This may seem trivial, but I have gained a testimony of labeled photos, having worked on two significant family history projects this year. I labeled our photos this week and felt old doing it. Where have my babies gone?I updated the photos on the refrigerator and put smiles on my children’s faces by doing it. I now have all of the new family members represented on the refrigerator and some highlights from 2013 to cheer us. I love my photo-laden refrigerator. It keeps me company.I decorated the mantel and shelves in my kitchen. Oh, the clean, fresh start that January gives to us! I love how uncluttered things feel at this moment. Of course I loved every Christmas card and decoration that we had on these spaces a month ago, but the change is good.Have I ever posted a picture of my food storage room? It’s one of my favorite corners of the house. Having food is comforting and it takes work. I shop often so I can keep these shelves full. This week I bought oodles of cereal, sugar, and crackers. I have one can of Spam, but I can’t bring myself to serve it. I bought it in 2008.I went to IKEA with my sisters and mom the other day and bought some textiles. This is Mark’s new rug. I like it so much.I have been working on the 2013 scrapbook. I’m terribly proud of it.I had forgotten that we went to San Francisco. How does someone forget San Francisco? It’s good to revisit those memories. That was a good day.
Well, I feel better for the sharing. Not sure if you’ll benefit from any of this, but it was good therapy for me.
When my Aunt Susan passed away last spring without a real goodbye or memorial service, I had thoughts and feelings that felt like orphans. I was confused and sad and there was no place for me to share those feelings. Then I was invited to her apartment and given almost all of her clothing.
We feel guilty when we do things that make it seem like we are moving on. Suddenly I was assuming her fabulous wardrobe and trying to make it my own. My Uncle Dwight said that it was so difficult for him to see all of her things leaving her apartment, but he knew that she would want her things to go to family. For me, this trip to her apartment was a chance to say goodbye to this much adored aunt.
It took me a while to feel comfortable wearing her clothes. Her perfume or a business card in a pocket would make me sad.
I’ve shared that I love her clothes, but it’s not just because the jackets are beautiful. It’s also because they remind me of her. My aunt brightened every room she visited. She got excited about people and accomplishments and loved to commemorate special events. I think of her when I put on one of her jackets and I wonder how she would face my day.
As a tribute to her, I thought that I would list some of the special events in the past year in which thoughts of her have accompanied me as I have worn her clothing.
Susan was there to celebrate many big occasions in my life. I’ve celebrated many things wearing her clothes this year. Timothy pinned a mothers pin to one of her jackets when he earned his Arrow of Light. Her clothes have been to concerts, an honor society induction ceremony, and baseball games.
Susan did work for a foundation to benefit schools. I have worn her jackets, blouses, pants, and jewelry to visit classrooms twice a week at our local elementary school. I think she would be happy to know that.
It’s fun to wear some of her more whimsical things when I teach the Young Women.
A special sweater has come along to a girls’ lunch with my sisters and a good visit with my parents in the fall. She loved family gatherings.
For my birthday, I dressed in her red ruffled plaid blouse and a red jacket when I went on a date with my two favorite men, Richard and my dad. Susan loved to go to restaurants and celebrate life.
She was with me when I went Christmas shopping. Wearing her gray jacket and carrying one of her purses, I remembered how she loved giving gifts.
Whenever I think of parties, her’s are the standard. I wore her velvet jacket when I hosted our big Christmas party.
This year, as memories of her have accompanied me everywhere, I have been reminded to be more courageous in my writing, speech, and music; more generous in my praise of others, and more willing to enjoy life. It’s a beautiful inheritance.
