Profundity Pretty Much Comes To Me Naturally

Last week I got to watch my nephews and niece for a few days while my brother was out of town.  Can I just tell you, I am completely envious of those of you with little kids...
I laughed the whole time I was there.  And oh, the stories I could tell you!

Like the night the two year old started a tantrum, and my four year old niece looked at me sitting cozily on the couch and said, "Aunt Randi, we don't let him do that.  We usually spank him."

and then when I didn't get up immediately, she said,

"Don't worry, I'll do it for ya."  and then started purposefully in his direction.

 And after I was done laughing, (no, I did not let her spank him), I wondered --How can something that is SO MUCH FUN be SO MUCH WORK?    And we're not even talking about the teen phase yet.

Come to think of it, that's a pretty profound question about parenting. Or life in general. 
Only 12:30 in the afternoon and I've already been profound.  My work here is done.

(Now I'm going to go put "be profound" on my to do list so I can check it off.)

What Moms Want

When I was younger I used to ask my mom what she wanted for Mother's Day- or any other occasion - and her answer was always the same.

Clean your room and don't fight.

I think I recall rolling my eyes more than once, and heading out to buy her a really GOOD present. Like a mood ring. Or a chia pet.

Sorry Mom.

How far I have come.

Drama, Drama, Drama

Mimi's involved in a little community teen theater, and she loves it! She likes the people, and she usually gets a fun part in whatever musical they're doing.

Anyway, there's always some drama going on in the theater. And I'm not talking about on the stage. Mostly we just put up with it, because it seems to go along with the territory. But last week there was a big blow-out. When Mimi called me to come and get her because rehearsal had closed EARLY --2 days before opening night-- I figured something was going on.

Now, I don't know what happened. But according to the kids there was an accusation of purse-stealing that ended up in the director/owner having a screaming/swearing match with one of the teens, and then doing it all over again when her mother showed up, after which all the kids were asked to leave the theater and go outside (after dark) to use someone's cell phone to call their parents to come pick them up. And while they were waiting outside? That's when the 2 police cars drove in because they had been called to the disturbance.

Oh where. do. I. start?

Mimi and I discussed it a little bit and agreed that there was a lot of unprofessional behavior and poor judgment going on, and maybe that wasn't the best environment, and as soon as this play has it's last performance she'd probably leave the theater, at least for awhile.

UNTIL -- a mere 2 days later came the GREASE announcement. Now I don't really know if he decided that he needed bribery to get people to audition for the next show or what. But if that's the case, he picked the wrong show.

I have never liked this musical. Well, that's not true. I liked it while I was sitting in the theater with the fun songs and bright colors - right up until the ending, where the boy COULDN'T turn "good" and have the relationship work out. Nope. The girl had to turn "bad". And then they all lived happily ever after.

Sheesh.

Mimi desperately wants to audition for this. She argues that she knows her values and it's not like getting a part in a play is going to change her.

I agree.

...But why support a production that's whole basis is immorality? And then there's the swearing and asking the kids to leave thing,which I still have a problem with.

Sometimes being the grown-up really stinks.

Apparently I Stink as a Grandmother

What's more fun than a real baby that takes every moment of your attention? Why, a plastic simulator baby of course!


That's right, it's Mimi's weekend for the child development baby simulator. You know... the realistic doll that's programmed to cry every few hours until you take care of it. The goal is to stop the crying in 2 minutes or less, as the crying gets progressively louder. And yeah, babycakes can get pretty demanding.

It's got sensors for diapers, bottles, motion, and proximity. That would be proximity to Mimi, since she has the corresponding ID sensor strapped to her wrist for the duration - making sure that she is the only one who can respond.

Chucky - as I affectionately call the little shnookems (because of it's horror-movie-like ability to tell when you are alone, or when you're asleep), is programmed to record how long it takes for each response, as well as other things, like letting it's head fall backwards, or if it's shaken or dropped. Yikes.

Mimi's doing great.

But I just want to say that this grandmother thing has been one big crock of false advertising.
A) the baby is butt-ugly.
B) I'm barely aloud to touch it,
and
C) I now have the privilege of parenting a teen WITH A BABY.

That last one comes with the added bonus of explaining eleventy nine times that tonight's sleepover is out of the question not only because of your chores and bedroom status, but BECAUSE YOU HAVE A BABY. People who have babies do not go on sleepovers with their teenage friends. (Hey, I figure we're having a learning experience here - might as well make it realistic, right?)

Welcome to simulated motherhood.

Which is hard enough.

But hey- if they REALLY wanted to make it realistic, that baby would get a mystery rash in the middle of the night, projectile vomit at least twice during the weekend, and have an exploding diaper that requires washing every bit of clothing both of you are wearing.

THAT'S a learning experience.

Overreaction

Hey, I never said I was rational, ok?

So when your daughter gets up and leaves a large Sunday meeting during the middle of someone's talk - for no apparent reason - do you think it's overreacting to:
ground her, take away her cell phone, AND talk to her about how rude it was until she cries?

Sheesh.

What the heck is wrong with me?


This morning I did take back the grounding, restored the cell phone privileges, and felt really really bad about the crying thing All. Day. Long.

No, They ARE NOT Homeless, But They do Have Pretty Convincing Outfits Sometimes

For several years now, my daughters have hated going shopping. Really, they can't stand it. I think the problem is two-fold. First of all, as you might already know. I HATE SHOPPING. Seriously. There is nothing appealing to me about walking around for hours just to see if there might possibly be something that I maybe want to own. Who does that?

The other problem might have something to do with the wacky body shape they inherited from me. Big busted, tiny waisted and very short.



If you didn't know better, you might think that was a good thing.



But if you've ever tried to shop for modest clothing with those proportions, you know that it's incredibly difficult.

Have you ever tried to find a T-shirt that was high necked and small waisted, and still leaves plenty of room for boobs and hips? I'm telling you it can't be done. Shade, Down East, Divine Modest-Tee, ModBe, we've tried them all. They suck.

Usually we settle for something that's semi-tight in the bust region, and very baggy around the waist, making them look somewhat like a box. A very short box.

And swimsuit shopping is nigh impossible. This year we finally settled for some suits from Modbe, which on normal people would be actually modest, but on my daughters? They are just the least non-modest swimsuits we could find. (don't tell me about surfer tops, it's a whole 'nother problem - mkay?)

You might be wondering why all this is boiling over today. Well... the Sadie Hawkins dance is this weekend, and somebody around here really needs a new outfit, but I've been met with actual mutiny. Orr..... it's entirely possible that it's me who's mutinizing. Those things get a little muddled, don't they?

Wish me luck, say a prayer, and if you want to bring me some chocolate cake, that might be good, too.


(OK, I just re-read this and it sounds a little whiny. Sorry about that. Just one of those days, I guess.)

Balancing Act

Life is a lot about balance, isn't it? So often I feel like I'm on a tightrope, and working without a net.

Our Stake President called last night to let us know that Buddy is coming home from his mission on Monday, after only 5 months. We don't really know why, though he has been struggling with some health issues.

This is one of those times that I struggle as a blogger and as a mom. My blogger self wants to be real and and let people in on the struggles that are going on inside of me, vent a little, and get some advice. Maybe even talk about the guilt I feel that I didn't do a better job as a mom. (I mean surely there was something I didn't teach - didn't say - didn't do the way I should have, right?)

The mom part of me feels loyal to protecting my child, and not just blasting his issues and feelings out into space for all to see.

I suppose there will come a balance of some sort. But today while I'm having trouble finding that balance, I'd probably better err on the side of less is more.

It's painful in a lot of ways, but we're going to get through it.

Turkey Trot

About a week ago, while rummaging around in my basement freezer, I counted three turkeys.

I guess every year at Thanksgiving when turkeys are $5 each, I buy an extra one. So with a couple of new turkeys for this year looming on the horizon, I decided that an old turkey would have to be used this week.
The 24 pound beast sat in my fridge until Friday, when I decided that it could wait no longer, and must be cooked.

So I slid it into an oven bag, and pushed it into my oven to cook for the required 3 hours the box had specified. I got the table set - fancier than usual because, well, it's a turkey. I started a pie, peeled potatoes, and laid out some better-than-usual green salads on little salad plates, because I refer you again to the fact that it's a turkey. Also apparently I'm an overachiever. But if you were cooking a turkey tonight, what would you have with it?

See what I mean?



The timer finally rang, so I pulled that baby out of the oven, which isn't really as easy as it sounds. I have one of those double ovens that's the same size as a regular oven, but instead of the storage drawer on the bottom it's the second oven. (does that make any sense?) Anyway, my big oven is on the bottom, so the turkey pan is literally about 3 inches off the floor when it's in there baking. Anyway, I practically had to kneel down to get enough leverage on the thing to bring it out of the oven, but I wrestled it out of there and set it on the stove.

The thermometer actually laughed at me, that turkey was so not done, so back into the oven it went.

Apparently, when they tell you to tuck the bag in around the turkey, they really know what they're talking about.

I forgot to do that part.

So about 10 minutes later, I started smelling this kind of burning smell, which I attributed to something on the pan or burner that was now boiling the potatoes.

Five minutes later, I noticed some smoke coming from the oven. It occurred to me that that was not a good sign, but before I opened the oven, I ran upstairs to turn on the attic fan, so that the smoke would be sucked out before it hit our ubersensitive smoke alarm.

Naturally during the 20 seconds that took, the smoke alarms started going off.

Can I just pause here to tell you about our smoke alarms? All the alarms in the house are wired together, so if one goes off, they all go off. They are the loudest things I have ever... and then they don't go off for a good minute after the smoke is cleared.

Anyway, The Brain made it to the kitchen about the same time I did. I yelled above the din

Get the turkey out of the oven!

He grabbed the hot pads, I opened the oven, and as we were staring in amazement at the sheer amount of smoke pouring out of there, the bottom of the oven burst into flames.

Big flames!

So he went to grab the turkey, and I ran (about 3 feet) for the fire extinguisher.

And then apparently, as The Brain pulled the turkey from the inferno, the pan tipped slightly, dumping more grease out of the hole in the turkey bag and into the oven, and then the flames started coming out of the oven and licking the stove top.

For the love of all that is holy, I could NOT get the fire extinguisher out of it's holder.

I'm screaming

I can't get it! I can't do it!

And The Brain was frantically looking for a place to put the turkey down. Every single surface was covered. But it didn't stop him from running all the way around the island in the kitchen, looking desperately for a place to put that thing down, grease pouring out of the hole in the bag with every step he took.

In the meantime, the flames coming out of the oven were -and I swear by heaven and swiss cheese - they were 4 feet tall.

I finally managed to get the fire extinguisher off the wall. I aimed. I fired. Nothing happened.
At this point I'm screaming

"It won't work! It won't work! Put that thing in the sink and HELP ME!"

Remember the world's loudest smoke alarms are still screeching at full volume.

To his credit, The Brain did not just DUMP that whole pan of turkey into the sink like I would have, but quickly balanced it on the side of the sink and came to rescue me from the flames and the stupid fire extinguisher. WHICH WAS EMPTY.

The flames were still huge and getting bigger, so I went to at least close the door to the oven, but once my forward momentum was started, found myself sliding through the grease and couldn't stop.
You know how things sort of go into slow motion at critical times in your life? I was in perfect slow motion, flailing toward the fire pit as if I were on roller skates, clutching at anything that might stop me, when I felt The Brain grab the back of my my pants and in one wedgiefying movement saved me from a fiery death.

I slammed the door closed as long as I was over there, and also managed to turn off the gas to the oven.

We stood there watching the fire smother to death, and turned to survey the kitchen. There was layer of smoke at the ceiling, the floor was covered - and I mean covered - in turkey grease, but we sighed in relief as we couldn't see any signs of serious damage. Well, I sighed. I'm assuming the Brain sighed, too, but since the smoke alarms were still broadcasting the news to our neighbors, I didn't actually hear it.

That was about the time Mimi and Lizzie came moseying into the kitchen saying

Hey! Can you turn off that stupid noise?

Oh yeah. Yeah, sure girls. Is that bothering you? I'll get right on it. AS SOON AS I PUT OUT THE HOUSE FIRE AND CLEAN THE SINGED HAIR OFF MY ARMS AND SEE IF DAD STILL HAS EYEBROWS. I'll get right on that for ya.



Anyway... How was YOUR weekend?



*edited to add that we're all fine, and we're all still laughing about it!

Happy Day

This summer has been a rough one for me. Besides the continual roller coaster ride of trying to get a new business started, I have been worried about all 4 of my children. They've all been struggling with decisions of eternal proportions. And while I can certainly share an opinion, when it comes down to it, everyone makes their own choices.

There's a saying that goes something like this:

A mother is only as happy as her saddest child.

And it's more or less true. It's been a little stressful around here, what with everyone making big decisions in their lives and all..

I don't usually write a lot about my family on my blog. There are lost of reasons, but the main two are:

• Getting anyone's permission to tell a story about them is like bathing a batch of kittens. I mean, it's possible, but somebody's going to end up bitten and scratched.
• I don't want creepy stalker people to necessarily know what my kids look like, or even their names. Thus almost everyone on my blog gets a fake name.

But today is a happy day! Everyone seems to be pulling out of their potential nose dives. (Which sounds a bit more dramatic than I intended, but you know what I mean, right?) So in honor of my near giddiness over this fact, I will share with you a very RARE update!


See this missionary?

Doesn't he look amazing? He's starting to get into the groove of the mission life, and finally adapting a little bit. Now, he was absolutely determined to stay the full 2 years, even if he was miserable the entire time. But he's finding out that it doesn't have to be that way. I am continually grateful for members, strangers, companions, and missionary couples who love and support him and help him every day. Kinda makes me a little teary.


Hannah has decided to move out so she can make her own rules and curfews. She got her very own apartment! She is so excited to move this weekend, and I'm excited for her. She found a cute place, and we are busy with decorating on a budget!!



Lizzie has started the fall semester in all it's glory. She is busy from the starting bell of 6am seminary to the last marching band note - sometimes at 9 pm. She's also got a full schedule of difficult classes, and yes, she did end up in AP English. But this year, she decided that Young Women (youth group) would move higher up on the priority list. And I'm so proud of her for that decision!


Mimi is loving her new school, and is also back in the drama scene, going to practices several times a week.

She's ecstatic! And she's also figured out how to keep up her grades (so far) so there's been no constant battle over that. I think she's also figuring out that the friends she chooses will have a big impact on how she lives her life in the long run. Not to mention on how much freedom she can get in the short run.


I don't want to jinx anything, but I'm starting to feel like - Hey! Things might be looking up around here. And even if this is just a lull in the storm, which I'm pretty sure it is, I'll take it.

Undecided

I haven't decided how I feel about today, yet.

My baby started high school.

I dropped her off, and she quickly found a friend and hurried into the building, nervous and eager to start her high school career, and just like her first day of kindergarten, she never looked back once.

I drove away trying to decide whether or not to spontaneously burst into tears like I did on her first day of kindergarten. ( I know there's something wrong with that sentence, but it's really what happened.)

The known vs the unknown.

I've never been really good at change.

Sweet Sixteen and Never Been - - OK, EW!

Lizzie has a dilemma.

There's a guy in her youth group. A guy who has been socially backward for, well, pretty much for as long as we've known him. Painfully socially awkward. And hygienically too. But he's as book-smart as they come.

Anyway, he's liked her and has made it known loud and clear at youth group for the past several years, even to the point that the kids have started to refer to her as "Tommy's girlfriend" - in a joking way. He told the boys at youth conference that on a scale of 1-10, Lizzie rates an ELEVEN.

Naturally the boys in the ward took it upon themselves to chalk elevens everywhere on our driveway and all over the street the very next night.

She's pretty good natured about it, and as long as everyone else aware that it's just a JOKE, she lives with it. Lizzie is about as compassionate as they come, and she really really doesn't want to hurt anyone's feelings. (I'm thinking that's how she rated the 11!)

So she caught a rumor the other day. Apparently that now that they are both 16, Tommy is getting ready to ask her on an official date. And not only is he going to ask her, but he's planning something elaborate to ask her. And public. (The intel is sort of spotty on the details of how or what.)

Are you groaning? Because I just distinctly heard someone say "uhhhg". Oh, wait. I think that was me.



What to do, what to do...

She's at a loss. She doesn't really want to go, but of course doesn't want to embarrass anyone, umm, including herself, in front of a large group.

A wise YW leader told her that whatever she does, most certainly the other boys will be watching, and she needs to really think about the reputation she'll be building.

An immature mother told her that non-committal is the only way to respond to any sort of embarrassing public question. Also, that the reputation she'll be building probably should not include any sort of illusion of becoming someone's girlfriend. If even for one night.

I can remember one of my sisters being in a very similar situation when she was in high school. In fact, it was so similar, it's kind of eeerie, come to think of it. She ended up going with this guy to his senior prom so that he could have a date. My beautiful, compassionate, talented sister went with this guy TO HER JUNIOR PROM, so that he could have a special night. She ended up being the hero of the branch where we lived. Really, practically a celebrity.

I'm not quite sure how my mother stood by and watched it, even encouraging her to just be compassionate and go. But I don't know. It's one thing to practice Christlike love, and another thing to risk your entire reputation.

Or maybe it's not.

Help.

Too Soon?

Ever since we moved into the house, The Brain has had his "office" in the basement. It's been a good place, because he's been able to really spread out. A lot. And when you're a computer guy, who pretty much lives and breathes computers at work AND in most of your spare time, you need a lot of room. You've gotta be able to network computers together so you can invite people over to play games. You've gotta have multiple places for pieces-parts of computers that people bring over to be looked at, not to mention the hundreds of CD's in various stages of burnedness (many of them originally for me and the kids). But it is cold down there. At least cold enough that 2 space heaters aren't really enough during the winter months.

So ever since we moved in, the plan was that once the kids started leaving the nest, he would move the office to the second floor, into one of the bedrooms.

Which I have been completely on board with, right?

Right.

And so the question now becomes, when?

When Buddy left for his mission, I was not interested in rearranging his room right away. The Brain, however, was ready and very interested in getting started immediately - if not sooner.

I proposed that we at least wait until the bed sheets were cold.

He wanted to avoid the beginnings of a shrine. (probably had a point there...)

And we got into a few testy discussions about whether or not it would be appropriate to completely obliterate all material things and memories that make up a child's existence rearrange a few things, so the space can be used by the people who umm, actually live here.

(And can you believe that during the discussions, it was implied that I was being kind of emotional? )
(I know, right?)

So the question is really not "Whether or not?" but more a matter of "When?"
Anybody have a thought?

It's Official

I have officially Ruined My Children's Lives.

The cause of this may include, but is not limited to:

• Decline in privileges in direct proportion to the decline of on-time homework.
• Enforcing the house rule of no socializing with friends after dinner on school nights
• requiring family members to attend "family" scripture study
• asking for clean bedrooms and bathrooms before computer and socializing time
• threatening to give away the stupid dog because nobody plays with her. Heck, I could just go ahead and give away the stupid dog and no one would even notice for weeks. - I didn't have to just threaten, you know...
  
• being unwilling to have further discussion about any of the above topics unless the eye-rolling and attitude ceases.

I post this as a public service, so that you can feel better about your weekend plans. Because whatever you're doing? Will be like skipping happily through the sample aisle at Costco, compared to what I'll be doing.

Ah, teenagers.

Thirteen Year Olds with Boyfriends... Some Thoughts

One thing I love about good friends is that they help me clarify my thinking. I love that I have friends who are really willing to say what you think. If I agree with you, I feel vindicated, and if I don't agree with you, it makes me think about why and and try to analyze and clarify. So thank-you for all your comments in the poll I took yesterday!

In the LDS church, we talk a lot about agency. Agency is basically your God-given right to make your own choices.

Now, I'm pretty comfortable with my OWN agency. Not that I always get it right, just that I usually make choices where I can live with the consequences.

My issue comes in when I am responsible to teach my children about agency, and choices, and consequences. I've always tried to teach more with reason and talking, and less by being reactionary and forbidding.

But see, you can have as many discussions with your toddler as you want about why she shouldn't touch the stove, but she'll just keep trying to touch it as long as it looks interesting. And you can't exactly say to that toddler,

"Well now, I've told you it's hot. You make the choice."

(Well, you could but if you do that too many times you don't get to be responsible for that child anymore. )

But I know more about the hot stove than she does, and about the possible consequences, and so as a responsible parent, it's my job to protect her from things that can hurt her. Whether she understands it or not is practically irrelevant.

I understand it.

And the same is true for teens. And the bigger dangers that come with bigger teen decisions. Certainly the consequences are bigger.

Do I think that the middle school version of "going out" is actually harmful to her development? Well, yes and no, but I think mostly no. Having someone to flirt with and to sit by during the school assembly is not exactly a "hot stove". But I DO think it's a burner that's been turned on. (Ha! Turned on. I crack myself up!)

And the problem is that the burner only gets hotter from there. We all know that the flirting and hugs good-bye have a limited enjoyability span. Then it takes something else to feel close.
Don't say you don't know what I'm talking about, either!

Would I let my toddler touch the burner after I turn it on -even if it's only warm at this moment.? Of course not. -

And so I feel the same about my teen. Because I don't think she really understands the possible consequences, or how fast it can get hot.

But I do.

And so this? Makes me violently opposed to her having a boyfriend right now. Not that the burner is hot now, but that it puts her in the position of the burner getting hotter and hotter. And at 13 she can hardly be expected to know where or how to stop when it's too hot.

(If I started talking about a frog in a pot here, would that mix in too many metaphors? Probably. But you see where I'm going with that.)

And so I have a responsibility to my teen, just like I do to my toddler, to protect her from whatever consequences I can.

But this time I can't just remove her from the situation and distract her with something shiny. Oh, I could step in and forbid the relationship (and enforce the forbidding, too!), but it would destroy the careful trust we're building between each other.

I know what I have to do is teach her. And teach her in a way that she can see that even if she doesn't feel the heat right now, she can trust me that it's coming, and use her agency to make the best choice for herself.

And so while she is learning about decisions and consequences with some of the other things in her life, she will have to partially rely on her parents' judgment for this one. It's too important. I've known more than one 14-15 year old that wished with everything in her heart that she could go back for a do-over.

It's going to be a difficult few days for all of us as we try to come to a balance here - between her being able to exercise her agency, and my being able to protect her.

Such is life as a parent of teenagers.

I'm trying to think of some sort of last line involving heat and parenting, but everything that comes to mind seems to reference hell.

13 Year Olds with Boyfriends

The article you're looking for has been moved here.

Help settle a little discussion we're having around here.

Short poll -

Is it appropriate for a 13 year old girl to have a boyfriend?

You can just say yes or no.... or more commentary if you wish.

Two Down, Two To Go

It didn't used to bother me when my children were upset after I did or said something. Hey, if they wanted to cry about play dates, or having to take a bath? I was used to it.

Willing to throw a cereal aisle tantrum because I said no to a box of Chocolate Frosted Sugar Bombs? Didn't really bother me. (though it does make me laugh when I think about this commercial..)

Angry and stomping around because they had to finish chores before they had social time? Bring it.

So why does it bother me so much now to make my children sad? Last week's birthday incident with Lizzie about broke my heart. And on her birthday, no less.

Today I did a really stupid thing that really made Mimi sad. It was a little thing, and not the kind of thing I'd normally write down and send into the universe for about eleventy billion people to read, but in the interest of sparing you from making this same mistake, I'll just mention it.

This morning she had taken particular care putting together an ensemble to wear to school. And she really did look cute. Coordinating jewelry and everything. I told her how nice she looked.

And then, because I'm an IDIOT, it flashed through my head that maybe the confidence and fun of having a great hair/clothes/skin day , would take some of the sting out of having to get some other disappointing news about, well, let's just say about how a family rule was about to seriously impede her social life. Which news could absolutely have waited until after school, but in my flash of stupidity, I felt the need to mention it right then.

The look on her face fell. And I can't believe I did that to her, and as I write it down, it seems SO mean. I really wasn't trying to be mean. I was trying to soften the blow.

So, she didn't cry - you know - had to be at least under control enough to save the mascara. (After all, we have our priorites, people!)

But after that, there was no amount of cheering up or promises of new earrings that would really salvage the day.

The lesson here = really? kids get emotionally beat up all day at school. They just do. If you can send them out the door happy and full of confidence, why wouldn't you? If the bad news can wait, LET IT.

So, I've made 2 out of my 4 kids cry this week out of my own sheer thoughtlessness. Only one more and I'll have a hat trick. I'm trying not to go for the sweep.

Boyfriends, Boyfriends...

Yesterday's post got me thinking about what exactly it is I want to happen.

Cause, you know, if my goal is to keep my daughters locked in the basement and make sure they're socially stunted for LIFE, at least I want to be clear about it.

What really is a healthy development in the boy department? There are a couple of things I'm sure of. No sex before marriage. No dating until age 16. And by dating, I mean pairing up with someone of the opposite sex to do an activity as a couple. Yes, watching a movie in your parent's living room counts.

Everything else I'm kinda fuzzy with.
If you could write the script, when would a young girl have her first boyfriend? first kiss? first party to include both boys and girls? first_____ anything else???

Modesty Matters ( and so does flattering )

As you may know, Mimi is big into the performing venues. She's involved in theater, and several singing and dancing classes - and she loves it. All of it. I love knowing how much she loves it, because it gives me leverage. And as you may also know, moms are always looking for leverage. Those grades don't just fix themselves.

Anyway, one of the children's groups she participates in is a singing and dancing group. They work hard and have a lot of fun! But the costumes they wear when they perform are - well, let's just say questionable. It's a halter-top-short-skirt-flashy-fabric deal. The first time I saw the costume was when I went in to order it about 3 months after she had joined the class. I balked, but we were only a few weeks away from the whole Christmas performance season, so even though I recognized it as what might be a first step on a very slippery slope, I just did it.

Recently, though, Mimi has been talking about moving from the children's group to the teen group. There are 4 lds girls in the program that are around her age, and 2 of them have recently been asked to move up.

Now I've SEEN the costume for this group and frankly, I'm a little puzzled as to how any mom - lds or not - is OK with this little number.

I mean, even if you're NOT concerned about modesty, you've GOT to be concerned with at least visual appeal.
It looks like a strapless um, silky tube top with a bunch of same color scarves sewn on as a skirt.

- - - hang on and I'll try to find a picture. You need a visual for this - - -


Ok picture this as strapless, and even more disturbing, with the ruching that you see down the front here, going all the way around the dress, not just down the front.
Do you know ANYBODY who looks good in full body ruching?
I don't think even Paris or Britney would dare to be seen in public in this. Well, I can't vouch for Britney after the VMA awards fiasco. But if she were, um, clear-headed I mean.

And frankly, it's just distracting. When I watch this group perform, all I can see is that these costumes are unflattering.

So in talking to the other lds moms, I'm surprised that they seem to be quite complacent with the whole costume thing. I asked them if they were going to say anything. If nothing else, at least register concern so that when the NEXT costume is chosen for the group (they can't keep these same costumes forever, can they?), maybe more modesty would be taken into consideration.

But both the moms who are currently affected are not interested in stirring the pot. They've decided that it's just a costume. Like you'd wear a swim suit to a swim meet, or, ahem, running shorts to a marathon.
I see their point, and I'm not knocking their parenting. Everyone does it differently, and they have some terrific girls that they can be very proud of.

But I've already told Mimi that the little strapless short skirt number will not likely be a part of her wardrobe. And even though she's still at least a year away from being invited to the new team, she's very concerned.

I don't know... I'm not saying that I'm completely ruling it out at this point. I know how important this stuff is to her. But there will at least be some discussion. Some raising of parental concern.
They already think I'm a fanatic down there. Might as well go for the burka.

Crime and Punishment

Fyodor Dostoyevsky, though a great writer, had nothing on parents of teens.

***Spoiler alert***

If you are actually planning on reading Crime and Punishment, 'cause you haven't gotten around to it yet- you know, since 1866 - skip this post.

In case you're not familiar with the book, (or the Cliff Notes), the main character kills someone in the beginning of the book - for what he thinks are very good reasons, and then spends the rest of the book growing increasingly paranoid, and finally ends up in prison. But the real punishment is the agony he goes through before he gets caught. By the time he gets caught and sentenced it's actually this huge relief.

And what I want to know is:

Why is it that my life occasionally resembles a bad remake of this novel? And why do I have to be the shifty-eyed detective?

Before we had inmates children, we agreed that our parenting theory would be:
"Teach them correct principles and let them govern themselves."

But the tricky part is knowing if I'm still in the teaching process, or if I should be in the letting-them-govern stage? Because frankly, right now, if they aren't employing the "correct principles" then, I'm not really open to the "governing yourselves" part.

As you may have guessed, somebody's grounded again. And as I'm trying to think up interesting, educational ways to spend a day that have nothing to do with friends, phones, or TV, I'm beginning to wonder exactly which one of us is being punished?

The good news is that it looks like this house is going to be a whole lot cleaner in about 2 weeks!