Show Me

Art from Mom's Almanac

As a mom, I loved TV. I thought it improved vocabulary, taught kids about different people and cultures, kept them occupied early Saturday morning, and settled them down while I fixed dinner. I listened to a lot of TV from the kitchen.

Here are some of my favorite kid's show memories:

(Click for a gentle reminder.)

1. I'm Just a Bill
2. James Taylor Up On a (Sesame Street) Roof
3. Mr. Rogers break-dancing
4. The Waltons saying goodnight.
5. Happy Days
6. Today's Special
7. Little House on the Prairie
8. Punky Brewster
9. Electric Company
10. Roosevelt Franklin Rap

How has TV helped you in the Mother 'hood?

Shape a World

All art by William Adolfe Bouguereau

There are those who think motherhood is menial and a waste of any talented woman's time. Some believe that if you're not making money, you're not successful. Others say marriage and motherhood are confining. In my experience these statements are false. One blessing of mothers is to help shape the world.


With seven children, our home was noisy and busy, but it wasn't usually chaotic. It was a bustling schoolhouse where kids were learning to work, cooperate, forgive and communicate. Tutoring and study groups were held in the kitchen; collaboration and reasoning workshops took place in the bedrooms. Besides flute and clarinet, multiplication tables and setting tables, life skills were being taught: doing the laundry, fixing a sprinkler, organizing a garage, planning a meal, or changing the oil. And while I was teaching this home-school, I was learning, too.

Among other things, I learned to listen, to counsel, to motivate and support. My kids shaped my world while I was shaping theirs. The writer Ellen Goodman said, "The pleasure of being a parent is the extraordinary experience of having short people who hang around a while, who push and prod and aggravate and thrill you and make life fuller."

Encounter

by Ellen Bryson Remington

A learned friend from time gone by
When my pursuits were intellectual
Crossed my path today; and glancing
Quickly at my rounded middle,
Noting the smudges there from little hands,
The wrinkles, too, from childish tears,
He asked, "What are you into now?"

I wish I could have made him understand.
"I'm into graphic arts—a type
Advanced beyond the popular conception.
I deal in shapes so intricate, so exquisite
That in this life I'll never know their limits."

I thought how every day I shape so many things:
I shape the edges of a pie,
I shape a diaper to the tiny leg,
I shape some flowers from our small backyard
Into a bright bouquet,
The covers on a bed till they are
Soft and welcoming.
I shape small eager hands around a ball
And show them how to throw.

But also, with my mind and with my love
I shape the tense and troubled hours;
I take them formless, dark, and shape them
Into light and warmth for spirits' growing.

I guide a pliant, loving mind,
Now fresh and good from God.
I try to show him things our Savior would.
I shape the design of his temperament,
The pattern of his moods.
I shape desires in his heart
Of this world and another.

And now in me another life is shaped—
The way he'll look and stand,
The contours of his hands—
And God is partner to that shaping.

Let those who do not understand
Think I am lost in merely mothering.
I smile—and shape my daily chores
Into eternal joy.

Kidspeak

Chelsea & Lucy, 2009

Chelsea said the blessing:

" . . . and please bless that we'll like all our food,
and please bless that we'll even like the chicken.
And please bless that we'll like what our drink is . . . "

The real blessing is hearing Kidspeak in person.

Weaving Sunshine

Krakow, Poland 2008

It was supposed to be perfect, but it rained.

It took months of groundwork, weeks of planning, and extra days of traveling to get to Krakow, the ancient capital of Poland. We were excited to see the largest medieval square in Europe, "alive with history, pigeons, and people."

Rynek Square, 2008

But from our well-chosen hotel room, famed for it's ideal view of the market, we looked out on huddled umbrellas and slick, wet cobblestones. Colorful awnings, outdoor cafes and flower stands were tucked under dripping eaves, and the horse-drawn carriages we expected were nowhere to be seen.

Towels not included, Krakow 2008

Instead, guys in plastic encased golf carts were giving tours around the city. Our guide spoke very little English, and it was his first day on the job. Unfamiliar with the route, he dodged buses and trucks in rush-hour traffic, while we wiped mist off the fogged "windows" and dried our mud-splashed legs.

Often the dream is better than the reality. Luckily the memory is better than the reality, too. Although the sightseeing in Poland was dreary, the experience was dazzling, and now the rain adds to the ambiance of our story.

On my travels through the Mother 'hood I had similar episodes: the Christmas Eve everyone threw up all night, Disneyland when everyone got the measles, that Thanksgiving the boys swung on the room divider and landed on mom's dining room table—I could go on for hours. Anticipation and preparation aren't guarantees when children are involved; tantrums and tears can dampen every parade. I've had to learn to deal. A blessing of motherhood is realizing that purpose trumps circumstance.

I now apply this truth to any situation. When I decide what I want to have happen (strengthen relationships, have fun, learn something, relax, accomplish a task, etc.) and make plans to achieve that goal, I know a storm won't make any difference. This insight is as valuable as any umbrella.

Sunny Polish Countryside, 2008

"Weave, weave, weave me the sunshine, out of the falling rain . . . "

Growing Kids in the Mother 'Hood

Image from Golden Legacy

Inch by inch, row by row,
Gonna make this garden grow.
All it takes is a rake and a hoe
And a piece of fertile ground.

Inch by inch, row by row
Someone bless these seeds I sow
Please keep them safe below,
'Til the rain comes tumbling down.

I've really never grown anything successfully—except children. But I think a garden is a good metaphor. One blessing of being a mother is to learn how blossoms bloom and grow.

When I was new to the Mother 'hood patch, I was too busy with weeding, mulching, and constant irrigation to appreciate what was happening under all that manure. Now as an Oma I can stand back and observe the process.

Most baby animals instinctively know how to eat; many stand up and walk almost immediately. But human moms and babies have to cooperate to learn natural activities: sucking, nursing, sleeping, even burping. Apparently God has a reason for this. Since none of us can remember learning this stuff as a newborn, I think the system must be for the mother's benefit. She can watch the challenge, effort and mastery involved with growing on a daily basis.

When one of my kids talked at 18 months, and another didn't talk until age three, I worried. (They both talk now.) It was the same with writing, reading, sharing; I gradually discovered that everyone learns on an individual timetable. I'm more patient with myself and others knowing we'll all master most things, but on different schedules.

Someone said, "I myself am made of flaws, stitched together with good intentions." One day my friend called to report on my five-year-old son's colorful vocabulary. She said, "I'm telling you this out of love." Of course his swear words of choice were the ones he'd heard from me. The whole setting an example thing is the scariest part of the 'hood.

Third Man

Parents are continually humbled—humiliated, in fact—by the kids following in their footsteps. I learned the truth of: "Judge not that ye be not judged."

A baby grins, and notices his mom's excitement. He does it over and over because he likes the reaction. Pretty soon he mirrors her expressions and sounds, and before long he copies her attitudes. I used to think it was totally unfair that I couldn't be in a bad mood without the whole family spiraling down with me. I'd have my little pout or sulk, and then end up coaxing everyone else out of their funk. It seemed less trouble to hide my doldrums and pretend to be chipper, because the rest of the group followed my lead.

Glee Club

Another blessing hidden in the Mother 'hood was the discovery that if you act happy, you become happy. "As a man thinketh in his heart, so is he." It's the secret of a cheerful mother's nature.

Plant your rows straight and long,

Nourish them with prayer and song,
Mother Earth will make them strong
She will make it fertile ground.

I spent a lot of time raising my crop, watching them blossom. But I think I've grown the most.

My Happiness Project

♫. . . we are a happy family! ♫

Forty years ago we started an experiment in happiness. A family is the perfect laboratory for testing philosophies on religion, education, health, relationships, finances, . . . actually every philosophy is tested in a family. Living right in the Mother 'hood, I could observe, analyze and evaluate what creates joy.

My first discovery: being married is much more than getting married. There were lots of crazy ideas about love floating around in 1969. "Love means never having to say you're sorry" turned out to be a bad one. I thought love meant being patient with Dee until he realized I was right. That wasn't any good either. My experiment in happiness has taught me about marriage.

I think sex keeps a newly married couple in a state of frenzy long enough for them to start developing some relationship skills (communication, empathy, understanding, and patience) to add to the romance of it all. It takes some humility to realize you need those qualities, and some effort to gain them.

With practice, good relationship skills can mature into dependability, responsibility, trust and commitment; eventually the goal is charity, or pure love. The miracle is not falling in love, it's staying in love. Like Neil Diamond sings, "Love is not about you, it's not about me. Love is all about we."

Psychiatrists, therapists, ministers, teachers—think of all the experts who are trying to figure out marriage. A blessing of my happiness project is that I have studied it in depth and I'm beginning to get it.

Kids were the natural result of the frenzied years. We wanted them, but we weren't sure why. They turned out to be a combination of adorable, frustrating, entertaining, challenging and always there. That was the hardest part of living in the 'hood: the constancy. Love took on a whole new dimension, with no place to hide from anxiety, worry and stress. Crisis management and split-second decisions became daily events. There was no escaping it, so I learned to cope.

Again, think of all the seminars, discussion groups and drills designed to prepare folks to deal with emergencies. I gained those skills on the job. I can think fast, multi-task, create calm from chaos, and take charge. It's a blessing to know I could be a leader in difficult circumstances.

The blessing I cherish most is the relationship with our kids. Besides loving them, I like them. They're funny, smart, kind, caring, helpful, creative . . . they're my best friends. People ask all the time what we did to raise such a great group. I always answer that they came good. But there was some work involved: I read a zillion child-raising books and tried all the trendy theories.

In the end, though, we subscribed to the best child-raising philosophy around. The scriptures
say, "And it came to pass that we lived after the manner of happiness." Nephi 5:27 (Book of Mormon)

So we looked into it. King Benjamin's advice became our standard:

"And ye will not suffer your children that they go hungry, or naked; neither will ye suffer that they fight and quarrel one with another . . . But ye will teach them to walk in the ways of truth and soberness; ye will teach them to love one another, and to serve one another."

—Mosiah 4:14-15

Our other motto was:

"And they shall also teach their children to pray, and to walk uprightly before the Lord."

—Doctrine and Covenants 68:28

One of my favorite blogs is The Happiness Project. Gretchen has been road-testing ideas on living a happier life (she's coming out with a book soon) and the challenge she gives her readers is to have a happiness project of their own. I think the reason I like this idea is that I've had a lifelong Happiness Project. And, I have to say, it's worked.

Life in the Mother Hood

"The family is central to the Creator's plan for the eternal destiny of His children.
The family is ordained of God."
—The Family, A Proclamation to the World

I had just moved to the hood—the Mother Hood. What did I know? I was twenty years old and I was a brand-new mom. No money, no experience, no education. I arrived in this new world with the barest necessities: a faith in God, a husband who loved me, and the example of a happy childhood. But life in the 'hood didn't come naturally to me.

I had enjoyed being the center of my own world. It was a shock to have a newborn who demanded all my energy and time, physically, mentally, emotionally—every tiny ounce I had to give! Some women prepare for this by postponing kids until after they've satisfied some of their own goals. This would not have worked for me. There would have been more to sacrifice. As it was, my initial feelings were still sometimes resentful and frustrated. Overwhelmed, I thought I wasn't ready for this season of selflessness. The time for preparation was past, and I had failed to prepare.

But I discovered something important. The abilities I wanted to have as a mother could only be developed by actually being a mother. I couldn't get them any other way. Just like a runner gains stamina from running, I would train best in the authentic mom-a-thon. This new baby was my first coach.

Oprah had a program recently, highlighting all the negative stuff that nobody tells a woman about becoming a mom. You know: exhaustion, hemorrhoids, loneliness, boredom, lack of stimulation, lack of appreciation, lack of everything. I identified with it all, but I think she needs to have a program highlighting all the positive stuff nobody tells a woman about being a mom. The benefits don't come all at once, like a two-year-old's tantrum. They are scattered through the Mother Hood. I didn't find many of them for years, and I'm still discovering them hidden generously in nooks and crannies of my soul.

This week I'm going to write about some of the awesome blessings that have come to me through being a mother. I'm an expert, having had a thirty-nine year career. Come back tomorrow and bring your friends. I'll raise your expectations of the Mother Hood.

Salt Lake Police

Norman Rockwell, 1958

I'm fed up with policeman.

Until lately I've really never had much to do with them; I had my old kindergarten view that they were our community helpers. They would get my cat out of the tree (if I had a cat.) They would tie my shoe, wipe my tears, and help me find my mom.

Recently I left Mr. Roger's neighborhood behind and moved into the real world. My first disappointment was Peter's accident. He was riding his bike to work and was hit by a hit-and-run driver. He landed on the sidewalk, unconscious, with a broken neck and a broken back (he's recovered very well, thank goodness.) Witnesses said a girl got out of the car, walked over to look at Pete, threw her hands in the air with a cry, got back in her car and drove away.

The police tried to question Pete in the emergency room (just as he came to) but the doctors shooed them away. At that time they were concerned that Peter could be paralyzed and they were cutting off his clothes, immobilizing him and running all sorts of scans. Pete never heard from the police again! There were a couple of reports in the newspaper and on TV about the investigation of the hit-and-run, but they were all full of errors and contradictions. That's how Pete learned the details of his own case. Apparently it was an unlicensed teenage girl driving somebody else's unregistered car, and the lack of info didn't merit the officer's time.

When Pete called the police from his hospital bed, he got recordings and promises for return calls, but nobody called him back. A few days later, in his back brace and neck brace, Dee took him to police headquarters to pick up his mangled bike. When he asked how the investigation was going, and if there were any leads, (basically, "is there an insurance company I can send my $18,000 worth of bills to?") the cop said they'd dropped the case. He said, (right to Pete's face in front of Dee,) "If you were a fatality, or more prominent, we'd follow this through." And that was it! They were done! Finished! Pete was alive, unimportant, and on his own.

So the other day we had another dealing with Salt Lake City's finest.

On Thursday Dee went to his downtown office after hours (about 7:00 pm.) The 10-story building is locked after 6:pm so Dee used his code to get in, went upstairs and unlocked the door to his private suite and discovered a guy sitting at his computer! Dee said "What are you doing??" and the kid replied, "Nothing . . . sorry." Dee was furious. He asked him to write down his name, address, employer, etc. which he did. Dee called the employer (who was the building's cleaning service person) and said "Come and get this kid!"

The boy said he was 13, and when Dee called me he described him as "quaking in his boots" and embarrassed. He had admitted to using Dee's computer regularly. Because he fit several of the scarier stereotypes, (mainly a dumb kid looking at porn on someone's private property) I was nervous that he would fit other stereotypes, too, and produce a weapon. Dee is young in spirit, but old in karate skills, so I called the police, and sat on the phone with Dee while he waited for backup. (I figured by being on the other end I could protect him, or at least be a witness to the gunshot.)

The employer showed up 30 minutes later, mortified and apologetic. About that same time the policeman arrived to assess the situation. He took the kid out in the hall for a few minutes, and then told Dee he'd given the vandal a "talking to" but he didn't think anything illegal had been done. Everybody was free to leave! He insinuated (in front of the culprit) that Dee was the one at fault because he had left his private computer (in his private locked office in a secured building) without password protection. "You're just asking for this," he implied. (So does that mean that if a CD player is stolen from your unlocked car, in your locked garage it's your fault for not locking the car?)

Dee has had some computer viruses this summer that have cost him down time, as well as geek squad repair bills. Now it's clear they came from the sites the boy was visiting. Luckily the boy's employer was willing to compensate Dee for those expenses and he has promised to have better control over the cleaning staff. He took responsibility and was a stand-up guy. What I'm disappointed in is the police reaction.

I'm not out for vengeance for a foolish teenage prank. If he stole any information it serves him right—"The History of Sheep Ranching in Summit County" isn't something to brag about to your gang-banger friends. It's the policeman's attitude of "Hey, boys will be boys . . . what are you gonna do?" "Girls will hit and run . . . just don't get in their way," that bugs me.

I was a silly teenager once upon a time. When I was 14 my friend and I went with our 16-year-old boyfriends, (Ken and Steve) to see what was called "The Guillotines." Actually it was a shooting range at an army base called Fort Douglas, and a popular place to park. As soon as we passed the no trespassing sign we were pulled over by military police and asked for our ID. Since Joan and I were under 16, we had the added misdemeanor of being out after curfew (10:pm in those days) and the four of us were hauled into the police station and charged with our crimes!

It was horrifying. After a stern lecture about trespassing on government property by a tough soldier with a gun on his hip, we had to call our parents to come and get us released. My parents were out for the evening (which is why I was AWOL after curfew on an unapproved date in the first place.) Always helpful, my 12-year-old brother covered for me by telling the policeman that our mother couldn't be reached because she worked all night in a factory that didn't have a phone. It didn't sell. I got another reprimand for lying.

As it turned out, Steve called his much older brother, who posed as a parent and came to retrieve us. Terrified of the possible consequences, but thinking we'd gotten away with something, we pulled into my driveway at midnight. My parents were waiting, fully armed with the whole story. (The military policeman had called back and reported on our misdeeds.) Dad told me and Ken off royally: we were both in tears. I was grounded for the whole summer. And I really was. And obviously the lesson I learned was memorable.

It's reassuring to know there are laws, and that someone is in charge of enforcing them. It gives a sense of order and security to people. I want to feel that someone trustworthy will protect me, even from myself. I miss Mr. Roger's Neighborhood.

Photo by Kevin Rivoli

Do you have any experiences to add?

What I Learned in the Woods

Will's Worm
2009

There are secrets hidden in the woods, and I found some.


Mentor
2009

Blossoms take nurturing.


Together
2009

Walking the trail with someone you love is easier than walking alone.


We Did It!
2009

Taking the high road is worth it.


We're Pregnant
2009

Kids are lucky when they have a mom and a dad.


Lighting the Way
2009

You may be the light in someone's darkness.


". . . saw a rabbit hopping by . . ."
2009

Rainy days can be fun, too.


Did You See That?
2009

Look for the good things; they're usually right there.


Onward and Upward
2009

You don't fall to the top.


Look Up
2009

Directions come from above.


Rip Van Winkle
2009

Old folks can still swing.


Little Cottonwood Canyon
2009

Focus on the big picture.

I want s'more! 2009

Grandkids love things that are
soft and squishy,

Cheater Photo
2008

Like an Oma in the woods.

Photos by Sco, Heed, Min and Omi

When I Am Old

"I have stopped worrying about living my life perfectly.
Oh my, what a relief!"

Do you remember Sky King? Jingles? Mr. Green Jeans? Did you wear your skate key around your neck or a circle pin on your jumper? If so, you're probably about my vintage. It's funny to realize that although I still feel the same inside, on the outside I'm getting old. I told my hair stylist that I was turning sixty soon, and she said, "Oh my gosh! I thought you were about fifty!" I was thrilled. But things have definitely changed if I think looking fifty is a compliment.

There are a bunch of things I've been saving up for when I'm old, and I've decided it's time to start acting my age. If I wait until I'm really old I won't have time for anyone to notice. At my funeral I want someone to say, "In her old age she:

1. Saw the best in everyone.
2. Was not judgmental.
3. Smiled most of the time.
4. Didn't complain much.
5. Loved being around the kids.
6. Hardly worried about what others thought of her.
7. Motivated others with tact.
8. Kept a positive attitude.
9. Counseled wisely, but only when asked.
10. Spoke with love.

In order to concentrate on these goals, I'm giving up some old ones. I'm not going to:

1. Fret that I don't look like I did at 40.
2. Brood about strange changes in my body.
3. Wonder what everybody thinks of what I think.
   
4. Waste time on activities that I don't care about.
5. Worry about things I can't do anything about.
6. Panic about the future.
7. Obsess about possessions.
8. Stress about $$$.
9. Lose sleep over insomnia.
10. Hold in my stomach.
    

I'm old, and I'm going to let it all hang out.

Jenny Joseph's Famous Poem

When I am an old woman,

I shall wear purple - -
With a red hat which doesn't go,
and doesn't suit me.
And I shall spend my pension
on brandy and summer gloves and satin sandals,
And say we've no money for butter.

I shall sit down on the pavement when I'm tired
and gobble up samples in shops
and press alarm bells
and run with my stick along public railings,
and make up for the sobriety of my youth.
I shall go out in my slippers in the rain
and pick flowers in other people's gardens
and learn to spit!

You can wear terrible shirts and grow more fat
and eat three pounds of sausages at a go,
or only bread and pickles for a week,
and hoard pens and pencils
and beermats and things in boxes.

But now we must have clothes that keep us dry,
and pay our rent
and not swear in the street,
and set a good example for the children.
We must have friends to dinner
and read the papers.

But maybe I ought to practice a little now?
So people who know me
are not too shocked and surprised
when suddenly I am old,
And start to wear purple.

—Jenny Joseph

Typical America

At the Parade by Norman Rockwell

"Without thinking too much about it,
I was showing the America I knew to
others who might not have noticed.
My fundamental purpose is to interpret
The Typical American.
I am a storyteller."
—Norman Rockwell

Singing in Church by Norman Rockwell

Home From Camp by Norman Rockwell

Birthday Party by Norman Rockwell

Family Reunion by Norman Rockwell

I'm glad to be a typical American!

"Critics insist Norman Rockwell was painting an ideal instead of reflecting a reality. Rockwell himself knew America was all about ideals. He saw his task: to remind us who we are, and what we aspire to be. That was . . . and is . . . Rockwell's America."

—Brian Williams, NBC Nightly News

Mountain Mama

Art by Lucille Patterson Marsh

Annie, of Annie's Song fame, told how she and her husband (John Deutschendorfer) spent a night camping in the Rockie Mountains with friends. Away from the city lights, they watched a meteor shower, and John penned the words, ♫ "I've seen it raining fire in the sky . . . folks around a campfire, everybody high . . . Rocky Mountain high . . ." ♫ He was John Denver when he sang it to us.

Although I've lived my whole life less than five miles from the mountain tops I've never thought of myself as an outdoor person. I don't like dirt, bugs, bees, buzzing, raccoons, rocks under my pillow or ashes in my hamburger bun. Natural is not a look I look good in. Bathrooms with spiders building webs and moths flitting in the corner are not where I want to go.

But I understand a Rocky Mountain high. I've got one! I'm packing for our annual 4th of July Campout, and I just calculated that I've been camping every summer (except four) since 1980! That's a lot of dirt under my fingernails. In a pinch I know I could pitch a tent, start a fire without matches, and dig a latrine, because I have. I've cooked a turkey in a pit, slept directly on the ground and hiked 26 miles pushing a handcart even though I was out-of-shape, old and cross.

These are the lows that contribute to the highs. Although there's dirt on the ground, the air is clean and crisp. It's quiet enough to hear a raccoon rustle in the bushes and a bee whirring in the wildflowers. After listening to wood crackling and loved ones laughing, their chatter soothes me enough that I don't care about the boulders beneath my shoulders.

Mountain kids wash up, 2008

I can't wait to unpack my Oma tent, and have a dozen little grands buzzing around my campsite. Maybe I've turned into a Mountain Mama after all!

Are you surprised at something you've become?

Secret of Wealth

"The rich man is the man who is satisfied with what he has."
—The Talmud

Mile High Pie,
(from the Apple Tree Restaurant)
has five-and-a-half pounds of Granny Smith Apples!

Speaking of apple pie,
does anyone out there have a recipe for
Apple Pie Cookies?

The recipe I used to have had a sugar cookie crust, sliced apples in a
sugar, flour, butter, cinnamon mixture, topped with the cookie crust.
They were baked in a 9 x 13" pan and cut into bars.

A taste of an Apple Pie Cookie would make me feel
really rich and satisfied.

Travelin with Oma

Exploring some ghost-towns in Nevada last week, I left behind a few of my misconceptions of the wild west. I imagined mining towns were all of the Paint Your Wagon variety, with bordellos and saloons the major source of entertainment. All that gold and silver had to be spent somewhere, I assumed.

However, in old local histories I found excerpts like this one:

"Before the town was six months old, the gold prospectors organized a school district, elected a board of trustees, dedicated a lot for a school house and fixed the salary of the school marm, without having so much as a single child in the place. But as one of the miners remarked when approached with the fact, 'Children are a natural thing, they'll come later.' "

Preston, Nevada

Another book said this:

"In the first week of the existence of the town, the few inhabitants (all were there to search for gold) felt the want of 'stated times of preaching.' They met together without regard to sect, and organized a church under the title of the Universal Brotherhood, and set aside a large tract of ground for 'religious purposes.' Although none of the miners claimed a call from God, they all felt better for getting the business out of the way."

Ely, Nevada

Schools and churches taught the rules, and the prospect of a ball and chain helped enforce them. Lots of little towns in the west weren't all that wild, I guess.

(Although we missed out on the silver, we mined some good ghost stories.)

Where are you off to this summer?

Opa riding the rails.

Ain't Misbehavin'

Mack and Chase, 2006

"I don't say we ought to misbehave, but we should look as if we could."
—Oscar Wilde