~~Dear Mr. Easter Bunny~~

Dear Mr. Easter Bunny,

I have known you all my life.
You used to bring me delicious sugary treats
of jelly beans
robin eggs
creme eggs
and
that white chocolate bunny
wrapped in colorful foil
that made me feel special
cause white chocolate is my favorite.
I always ate the ears off first
and then
the sugary eye...
it was so yummy.
You have always been so good to me.

Thank you for coming to my own children
all these years--
even when I changed the day on you
and invited you to come on Friday night
instead of Saturday night.
But honestly,
trying to take 7 kids to Church
on Sunday mornings
all hopped-up on sugar
and chocolate stains on their new easter clothes
made me crazy like a homicidal fruit-bat,
so thanks for understanding that
about me.

We're getting ready for you again
this coming Friday.
I have a favor to ask,
if it's not too much trouble.

It's also,
as you know,
Daisie's birthday.
She's going to be fifteen.
She's been kinda sorta really rotten lately
you know,
how most fifteen year olds are--

rolling her eyes

stomping her feet

slamming her door

(until we took it off the hinges last night)

yammering at high decibels until my ears ring
and my eyes water--

So I'm just wondering if,
instead of
jelly beans
robin eggs
and a chocolate bunny
you,
Mr. Easter Bunny,
might just tuck something else into My
easter basket this year...
something along the lines of
a tranquilizer- dart gun
a muzzle
and some super-glue for her mouth,
for some uh, projects I'm working on.


That'd be one easter wish
I'd really enjoy.

Thanks MUCH!-
Momza

p.s. enjoy the carrots. they're organic.

cc: Santa Claus, St. Valentine, St. Patrick, Toothfairy, Fairygodmother.

Our Bodies and Temples

Summer is coming.  The time to shed our winter garb with its layers and layers of fabric to keep us warm.
With a housefull of yahoos--3 of them female--we're all getting excited about the warm sunshine and activities that Summer brings...hiking, camping, pedicures for fun sandals, swimming, getting a great tan--
where we're going and what we're doing!

We have great summers in Colorado--nothing like the brutal Arizona summers we endured with oven mits on the steering wheel, the huge sun sheild on the dashboard, freaking hot pavement--our days may get warm, but by three o'clock the afternoon showers roll in over the Rockies, and cools everything down.

Still, we have the issue of summer clothing.
You've been shopping, right?
You see what's out there.

Last week, I took the Caboose to Target to spend some of her birthday money. She looked at summer clothing...and after finding rack after rack of spaghetti strapped tops, she said, "I don't wanna wear two shirts every day" and headed over to the toy aisle.
Sometimes I envy the Amish...there is probably little distinction between what they wear in June to what they were in December....long dark dress and bonnet OR long dark dress and bonnet.  They seem to save all of their colorful fabric for their marvelous quilts.
Raising four daughters to choose to be modest is easy.  Finding modest clothing off the rack is the challenge sometimes.  Thankfully the trends this year seem to be more modest than they have been in a decade...more feminine styles with ruffles and ribbons and soft fabrics.  But still, there are choices to be made, right?

Especially challenging is PROM Season.
In the past, I have sewn sleeves on formals, made matching wraps, stitched up too-high slits in the back or side or front--all in an effort to protect the modesty of my young women AND their dates.


I have found that my efforts in this area are worthwhile.
It DOES make a difference down the road,
say, if I bend ONCE,
the careless BEND is marked and remembered, like a fold in a paper,
and I have to start all over again
with renewed efforts --
whereas if I just obey the MOST IMPORTANT RULE OF PARENTHOOD:
Be Consistent
I would not have half the battles I have had.

So there's a lesson for you.

We want our young women to be modest.
And yes, I have been known to toss out
too-short-shorts
too-low-tops
a few denim skirts that had as much fabric as a placemat...
and yes,
there may have been some weeping and wailing
and
gnashing of teeth.
But there was growth and understanding too.

So summer is shining,
and what I wanna know is
What do YOU think about Modesty--
how were you taught it
and how did you teach it to your yahoos?

Elder Bednar speaks volumes about the correlation between our body being a temple.
Ye Are the Temple of God by Elder David A. Bednar

************

To find out more about LDS Temples, go here

Changes and Refining & Church

Yesterday was an exciting day.
first we only had two meetings at Church
because we had a Stake Reorganization meeting later
in the day...
the kids were delighted at the shorter meeting.
So was Mr W.  (lol)

I have to say though,
our Sacrament meeting was awesome!
We had just two speakers--
one newly-called young missionary B., (to Mexico)
and a young man, A. who just returned from his mission to Italy.

There was such a contrast between the two,
it stayed with me all day, really.
B. spoke first--
he is not a very eloquent, out-going young man,
but rather soft-spoken, shy.
Just a really good kid.

He said he'd written his talk earlier
but felt impressed to ditch his notes
and speak simply on the Atonement of Jesus Christ
and his testimony on that.
B. was earnest
and at times emotional
raw
the one thing he said that still rings in my ears
was this:
If, when we repent of our sins
and the Savior remembers them
no more
why should we?
We remember them to protect ourselves
from repeating mistakes,
but that we shouldn't be weighed down
with the guilt anymore.

I really soaked that in...

When B. sat down,
he looked relieved, a bit frazzled even
from the experience.
I was too.  I'd been sorta clinched up
listening to B.--
silently praying for him to be able to express
the desires of his heart
in a way that would bless him
and the rest of us.


Then A. presented at the podium.
I remember A. when he was just a squirrelly kid
running with the other scouts around the Church building
years ago...
I hadn't seen him in 5 years since we moved,
he graduated high school
and left for his mission to Italy.

When he stood up,
he was composed
and focused.
He spoke with humility.
His fingers poured over his scriptures
with ease and exactness.
His message was beautiful.
He spoke of Christ
like one who knows Christ.


The longer I listened to A.
the more calm and peaceful
I became.
He spoke of the Symbols of Easter:
-the rolling stone
-the linens that wrapped the Savior in the tomb--
specifically the napkin that covered His head;
how it was not cast aside and lay in a heap
but found to be carefully folded.
A sign that in those times,
meant
"I will return."
And His disciples understood that symbol.
-the lamb
-and two other things that escape me right now.
A. brought it all together in an offering
that encourages God's children
to have Hope in this Life
for a grander purpose in the eternal life to come.
just beautiful.

As I sat observing these two young men
this is what stuck out:
Here is B.--
a willing, worthy and prepared servant
much like an unpolished instrument
ready to serve a mission.
He has no idea what lay ahead of him
for the next two years.
He has a new language to learn
a new culture that he will be immersed in
and will leave all else behind.
But he is willing to do whatever is required.
I love his example.

And there is A.--
the polished instrument.
He too, left all behind
and learned the beautiful Italian language
lived among the people
ate their food
learned their culture
and came to love and be loved of them.
A. is an example of what becomes of us
all
when we give our will to God.
When we sacrifice our own
"I wants" for others.

It occurs to me only now,
that B. could stand for "BEFORE"
and
A. for "AFTER".
wow.

It was an awesome meeting.

Then at the Stake "shake-up"
we had a great time
as ward boundaries changed,
ward names were changed,
a new ward was created
and many new callings were extended
while many us of were released.

We're in a new ward
with old friends,
a new Bishop.
No callings-which is weird.
A change in the meetinghouse we'll attend
and a new time--ouch! (instead of 11am, we'll be going at 9am)

Change is good.
It pushes us out of comfort zone
and forces us to
show our best
in the new surroundings.

The fact is,
we're in this "new" ward
about 10 years ago
before the area grew so big
that now 6 wards make up the same area.
We saw familiar faces as we all stood
together
as the newly-reorganized ward
and
I'm happy.
This is gonna be good.
We're in great company.

This is my time to be refined.
Each ward has their own "language"
and some minor "custom-changes"
and we'll be in a different meeting place--
it's all to refine us
stretch us
and grow us.
Yeah, I'm really excited that it's my turn to
be in the Hands of the Refiner....
I hope I can glow brightly
and come out polished.

Spring Break in Colorado Springs!

The Spring Blizzard of 2010 looks like this:

It's 20o outside, and the door is wide open!

The Caboose and Mr. W bundled up and holding onto the hound...ready to go to the hill!

I wondered why we were going out while the storm was still blowin, but I'm just the Mom.

Mr W. and Boofus figuring out where they wanna make the most dangerous path down the hill.

It's always funny 'til someone loses an eye.

Snow Angel of course!

Dakota's rear...tried to get her snowy face, but she wouldn't stand still! Her favorite part was attacking the yahoos while they were flying down the hill. 

 The dog is just like my kids--has selective hearing.

Boofus...wipe out!

A little piece of our heaven.

It's not what you say but how you say it...

 So I was peekin at my FEEDJIT thingy

and I see this:

Orlando, Florida arrived from google.com on "Momza's House" by searching for piano tied to your butt.


No kidding.
That's how google has a reference for me.
I knew my bahooey was big,
and yes,
that term is applied and used freely in our house.
But seriously?

I'm a Finalist in Something!

Come with me to Holland

Come with me
and visit a new little one,
Nella Cordelia...
Your day will be brighter
and I promise
her Mom will inspire you
for always.

Snowy Spring Break, Movie Reviews & Random Observations

Spring Break means so many different things to us all...
the people in the desert
head to the snowy mountains to ski
and the mountain folk
head to the oceans and deserts to warm up.

We stay put...
one of the perks of loving where you live,
I guess,
is that home is where you want to be.

So we got six inches (At least) of snow Friday night
and the yahoos played
ALL DAY LONG outside in it, Saturday.

Pikes Peak in the way back there, cloud-covered and BRRRRR cold!

Boofus riding his bike on the retaining wall...no hat, no gloves, no snow bibs.

The Caboose "Snow-tanning"...that's what she said she was doing.

Truthfully, it was warm enough that we
took the hound for a long walk
down to the ponds and hiking trails behind the house
for at least an hour
without a coat....
yeah, I know--
snow on the ground
but hot enough to shed our coats!
It doesn't get any better!

The yahoos and I went to see

"Diary of a Wimpy Kid"

and I have to say we loved it!

Definitely a boy movie...kinda gross, but totally relatable.

Then Mr W and I did a PPV on the tube

and watched

"New Moon"--

I hadn't seen it

tho I had read the books.

Oh my heck.

The two main actors stunk on ice.

I can't believe how awful they were

and the amount of attention they get in real life?!

The only decent acting was

the actor who played Jacob--Taylor Lautner.
And my expectations from "Shark Boy" weren't high
to begin with, but he stood miles apart from the others.

Other than that, we made fresh smoothies

with spinach and berries and yogurt

that were

delish...

Mr W grilled some salmon Saturday for us

and made

chicken parmigiana tonight.

I love it when he cooks.

This next week starts my "South Beach Diet",

and I'm kinda excited about it.

Lastly, have you heard of Debbie West Coon?
Beautiful voice, lovely arrangements.  check her out

Our Stake is getting a Boundary "Makeover"
next weekend...
so we're all kinda playing the
guessing game

about where we're all gonna end up.

But we've lived here so long,
that no matter which way our neighborhood goes,
I'll be in a ward with great friends.
So I'm okay with it.
Change is good.
It gives others opportunities to grow
and share and shine and serve.
It's time to Move-It Move-It!!

Finding and being Found

After alot more traffic and comments
I asked someone how they came upon
my blog.
They directed me here to your lds neighborhood.

Have you ever heard of it before?
I hadn't...
so I'm totally thrilled that they--whomever they are--
found something worthwhile to share with their
readers from my lil world.

What about you?
Has your blog been featured in other places?

The Learning Season: Parenting New Drivers

You have brains in your head.

 You have feet in your shoes.

You can steer yourself in any direction you choose.

You're on your own.

And you know what you know.

You are the guy who'll decide where to go. ~Dr. Seuss

 

New Driver Season:
First, she got her car.
Then, she got her license.
Five days ago.
FIVE.

Past experiences have taught me
that once you give a teenager car keys
they will go
MIA
from that time forward,
only to show up at random times--
when they need money
or when they're sick.
But not much more than that--
A wave of a hand,
a shout of, "I'm leaving! I'm off! Don't wait up for me!"--
and they are gone.

They've got
things to do
people to see
places to go,
dontcha know?!

Gearing up for this,
I spent countless moments
talking
talking
talking
to Nana about the responsibilities of driving
that aren't in the Driver's Manual:
*Stick close to our area for awhile, before driving all over town in areas you're unfamiliar with.
*Don't drive at night just yet.
*Don't offer rides to others (friends) for at least a month.
*Be patient with yourself as you learn this new skill of driving...it takes alot of time behind the wheel to really become a safe, smart driver.
*Let me know where you're going and when I can expect you home, so I know where to start looking for you in case something happens to you.

I wrote this stuff down.
I reveiwed it with her.
All the while, her nineteen year old head is
nodding
nodding
nodding
and her eyes are
rolling
rolling
rolling.

Understanding Which Season You're In Season:

Last night, after another round of
"please be careful"--
she left the house
said she was headed somewhere
close to home,
"Maggie Moos"
to meet up with friends.
She would be home in an hour and a half.

Just about the time she should've been home,
the phone rings--
it's her number.
The first words outta her mouth are,
"Just when I thought this night couldn't get any worse-" (referring to our discussion before she left),

Mr. Wonderful and I slip on our shoes,
grab our coats
and head to the scene...
which is NOT where she said she was going to be,
NOT in our area at all,
and found her with her friends
all standing around her new car
with a broken rim, wheel, and popped tire,
from her attempt to avoid an accident by driving into a ditch,
she says.

At first,
I am just thankful she is okay.
Then,
I am so frustrated with this situation,
I could pop.

She dismissed her friends
while Mr. W changed the tire.
He tells her to wait in the truck
because the brainiac girl she is,
is wearing a skirt
and a cold front is blowing hard--
it's freezing cold outside.
Without a word
 the usually vocal
"I-can-handle-anything-girl",
gets in the truck, turns on the heat
and snacks on her words.

Once Mr. W is done,
he says he'll drive the car home
with the doughnut tire
to be safe.
I am amazed at how calm he is--
he's not ranting or raving--
it's like he's totally accepted the situation
and his behavior is model.
(*later he confesses it was nice to see me lose my cool and he got to be the "good parent". I smacked him.)
Nana hands over her keys.
She is hating this moment.
It shows all over her face.
You know that feeling, right?
I certainly do.

Letting Them Realize Their Own Mistakes Season:

So, I follow Mr. W home
and at first, I don't know what to say--
I'd already yelled all the way to the scene
with my "I TOLD HER SOs"--
and my
"WHY DIDN'T SHE LISTENs?"
But in the truck
I am quiet...
Where to start?
"Did it scare you?" I ask.
She says "Heck yeah!"
"I'm sure it did."

"How much is this gonna cost?" she wonders. 
"Well, David Scott did almost the same thing to his car, and it was about $1800.00, but yours doesn't seem to be so bad."
"Whew."
She tells her story of why she was where she was--following her new friends from Institute, she didn't know exactly where they were going. And then the other car that forced her off the road.
I listen intently. She is telling the truth.
But her inexperience is obvious.  Her abilities are not realistic with her expectations.  She is still a new driver.
I wish I could say my "I-told-you-sos"
didn't come out,
but they did.
Not in those words,
but they did...
I wasn't angry.
Anger solves nothing.
Concerned, yes.  I'm kinda relieved that her car is outta commission until she can afford two new tires, wheels and rims.  I'm okay with that. She needs the TIME to get some perspective of her limits...and you can't do that when you're flying down the road in a little red convertible.

Once home,
Nana hurries to the house...trying to salvage any pride she might have left,
and discovers the house is locked and has to wait for the key.
Which is good,
because then she gets close enough to Mr. W
that he holds out his arms wrapping her inside.
"You're gonna be okay. It's not bad. Just need to get some tires--probably call the junk yard and get 'em cheap." 
She welcomes the release of anxiety.
And off to bed she goes.

Letting Go Season:

I love this girl. so much. so so much.
And I get why she is in the season of life that she is in--

that
"I-Am-My-Own-Person" season...and it's critical stage. I know this.
If she didn't have this confidence to boldly jump out of the nest,
she might never leave
and that's NOT what I want.
So here I am
between a rock and a hard place--
to kick  my love out of the nest
but offer a parachute for a soft landing
is where I'm at...
But where I really wanna be at,
is on the ground to catch her in my love.
This is the moment I hold my breath
and watch her start juggling life.

Polynesians, Roadshows and Prophets

Someone else inspired these memories to come flooding today,
so I'm running with it, because, well,
the way my memory comes and goes,
I gotta get this stuff down before
it's gone.

When I joined the LDS Church
I was introduced to what is called
a "Roadshow"--
it's an original theatrical production
put on by members of the Ward--
there's an original script
original music
dance numbers
costumes
backgrounds & stage managing
lighting
the whole she-bang!

And it's all done voluntarily...
that is,
noone is paid to be there.

Each ward produced their own,
even had a budget set aside for it,
and then on a particular weekend,
there was ROADSHOW Weekend--
for two nights,
the productions were performed
in a rotating fashion,
between the different Church buildings in the area
(if you lived in Utah/AZ/Idaho where there are many buildings)
or in the Stake Center
(if you lived anywhere else, where the miles between buildings was too many).

At the end of the performances--
there was a panel of judges who gave awards
much like the Oscars
to the entries...
Best Script (had to have a moral)
Best Music
Best Costumes
Best Scenery
and on and on it went.

The powers that be,
had to cut out the judging part
because egos got injured
and then it became a
"It's just a good experience for us all to share our talents, isn't it?" deal.
And then the fire just blew out of it
years later,
and without the competitive spirit
people lost interest
and the budget for it was put towards other,
more worthy things.

But, that was AFTER
long AFTER
my experience being
called as a Director of the Roadshow
with my husband
and another college couple.

The background on this is important--
we lived in Independence, Missouri.
I was 23 and had 3 kids...one of which was born
during the production phase.
My husband at the time,
was a full-time student at a Chiropractic college
and he worked full-time
and taught Sunday School to the 12 year olds.
I was also on the Releif Society board--
remember "Spiritual Living" teachers?
Yup. That was me.
 !!!busy busy busy!!!

So our ward was Unique
with a capital "U"--
it was 3/4's Polynesian ( Samoan/Tongan/Maori/ Hawaiian)
and the rest were
*haoles.  
I was in the haole group,
in case you're wondering.
Our Sunday meetings were unique
in that half of our meeting was in Samoan
and half was in English--
our prayers
our songs
the sacrament
the talks.
Nearly ALL of our Ward activities
were luaus...cellophane noodles, kahlua pigs, fire dances--
no kidding.
Our Bishop was American Samoan
his wife was from New Zealand.
The Sunday School President
was Brother Talimatasi--
who is actually a Bishop these days,
back there.

Polynesians are passionate people--
if they love you today
they love you forever,
if they don't
your name is "Mud".
I've never been in a ward
not before or since
where Hymns sounded so powerful.
They sang loud enough to raise the roof
off the chapel
and reach heaven's gates.
Our Polynesian ward family
was fun and friendly
and I loved them and was loved by them.


When we were there,
President Kimball was the Prophet then.
I loved him.
His raspy voice,
his twinkly eyes...
it was actually President Kimball
who had dedicated the  Independence Stake Center.

Okay, so
we happened to be a ward
where not everyone was as loved
by the Polynesians as we were...
some haoles were
"mud"...
and when it came time to put together this
Roadshow
we sorta got wind of the all the
"mud people".
There was a division in this sweet ward
that we had been ignorant of up to that point.
Turns out, some of the haoles
didn't understand or approve of some of the cultural differences--
it was a "US vs. THEM" deal.

But ya know,
Ignorance CAN be bliss sometimes.
Our Roadshow team
worked hard--
and there were more than enough like-minded souls
who were just as ignorant to the division as we were,
and before long
we had a fun script
great music
fantastic choreography (altho known for their fire dances, polynesians can really move-it, move-it!)
and the only glitch came when it was time to sew costumes.

The "known seamstress" in the ward
was a haole woman old enough to be my mother,
Sister Mud.
And she called to tell me
that it was against her "better judgement" to sew costumes
for the Roadshow
because of the cultural differences--
which she aptly named
and I can't recall for the life of me
what her beef was??
But, I do remember that I said,
"If it makes you that uncomfortable,
I'll find someone else."

I hung up from her call,
stumped.
I thought for a moment--
about the costumes
the time involved
and the friends I had.
I made up my mind
that I could pull this off
without Sister Mud
and made a few phone calls.
Within an hour
I had 6 seamstresses lined up.
But guess what, chicken-butt?
Sister Mud
called back
apologized
and said she'd do whatever she could.
I just love it when people CTR.

The production was called
"A Step In Time"--
the movie
"Back to the Future" had come out
and was a huge inspiration for us.
Basically,
the story was about music, youth and dancing styles...
going back to the days of bobby socks and cuffed t's
thru the 60s with the bell-bottoms,
70s with disco-balls,
and the 80s with break-dancing and leg warmers.

It was awesome.
We had over 90 people participate in the
dancing scenes--
all of them so dedicated to learning the choreography
and lines
all of it.
We had the highest participation
than any other ward in the Stake.
Even our Bishop played a part.

But wanna hear the BEST PART??

There's two other acts besides the main one--
one is called the Entre' Act
and the other is called the Olio Act.
Each were part of the program to give the different wards
time to change up the sets
between acts
so as not to bore the audience.
The Entre' Act was MY specific assignment.
I recruited two full-time missionaries to
sing a song called
"Spencer"
written by Joseph Grayson and Elder Holgate--
two missionaries I'd met when I was a new convert
in Colorado.
It was a lovely song about Spencer W. Kimball
and the Lord...like a conversation between them.
I'd called then-married-and-living-at-BYU Brother Grayson
and he sent me the music for the show.
The two missionaries practiced and practiced--
it was truly a beautiful song.

So ROADSHOW WEEKEND arrived
and our ward was the last ward to perform.

First up, the Entre' Act with
"Spencer"---
at first, the audience was noisy and bustling...
then
it quieted down.

The audience loved the song.

After the performances that night,
alot of people asked about the "Spencer" song.

The next night--it was a Saturday night--
our ward's production was the talk-of-the-town--
so that when our missionaries took to the stage
you could hear a pin drop.
Silence.
The Spirit was as strong as I'd ever felt it.
Lovely.

Of course, our ward won a few awards...one of which was
BEST CHOREOGRAPHY...totally rocked that.

So here we were feeling so accomplished and relieved that it was done, and was done well.

But that's not the end.

The next morning
before Church,
my phone rang--
it was a member of the Bishopric
asking if I had the sheet music for the
"Spencer" song.
I did and was asked to bring it to Church with me.

The missionaries met me at the chapel door
and I gave them the music.
They said they'd been asked to sing it in the Sacrament meeting.
I thought that was really nice, ya know, of the Bishop to ask for that.

So the meeting began,
in the way of announcements,
our dear Bishop shared with us
the news that
President Kimball had died the night before.
And our sweet Bishop invited our missionaries
to sing the song,
while we reflected on our dear Prophet.


I wish we still did Roadshows.

*The Hawaiian word for a foreigner or a very caucasian person who is not native to the Hawaiian Islands.

An Example of Compassion

There's a news story going around that really touched my heart.


Obama isn't in it.
Neither is Health Reform or the Job Market.
It's not about money at all.

It's about
Compassion.
--and Young Women.

The US Women's under-17 Soccer Team
went to Costa Rica to play in a tournament--
a championship tournament,
and their first game was against
Haiti.
Hait's team is made up of homeless young women.
Newly-orphaned young women--
due to the earthquake that has ravaged
their tiny island
and killed over 200,000 people.
Their people.

The Americans were surprised that the Haitian team
was even coming,
so they decided to do something to help these young women
before they left the US.
They organized fundraisers and hygeine-kit drives
so they could present each Haitian player with a backpack
full of necessities.

It was an emotional game--
the Americans arrived to Costa Rica
well-rested and prepared;
while the Haitian team arrived
as weary survivors.

The game was won by the Americans.
But it wasn't a sweet victory of 9-0...
this is what happened, according to Bree, the goalie:

"It definitely wasn't a good feeling," Bree recounted as the final whistle sounded. "Nobody was thinking about the game."

And now no one who saw it end will ever forget it.

"When the [final] whistle blew," Bree recalled, "I walked to midfield with my teammates to shake hands with the Haitian team, and as I did I looked downfield and saw their goalie was laying on the ground, crying."

The emotion of everything toppled Alexandra Coby. (the Haitian goalie)

Coby's coach was the first to reach her side. Bree was the second. Bree's teammates were in tow.

"We started walking to her. Her coach helped her up," Bree said, "and I opened my arms and hugged her.

"She was crying and I started crying," Bree said. "And all my teammates began crying.

"Nobody spoke any French," Bree said of Haiti's native language. "We communicated with a nod and a smile."

Bree said it didn't last more than a minute and a half. But there is no doubt they all will carry the moment for the rest of their lives."


The rest of the story is that the US girls spent a few more hours with the Haitian girls during the tournament (which the US won) and gave them the backpacks of compassion.

We live in a world of much turmoil, but stories like these lift my heart in hope.

We can make a difference. 

We do make a difference when we extend ourselves to others.

And that effort is never wasted. 

LDS Radio & Momza

SO I was surfing the big WWW a few days ago
and googled myself...
I wasn't totally surprised to see a number of blips
that are authentically mine
and while I used to be the only "MOMZA"--
there are a few more out there now.

But then I saw this:

LDS Radio

I had no idea.
At first, I was like,
"what the heck?"
and then, I was like
"Oh my heck!"

My kids put it in perspective:
"Momza, you're famous!"

uh hunh. yes. I am.
My blog is rubbing shoulders with
Mindy Gledhill, Hilary Weeks, Michael McLean, Cherie Call, Alex Boye...
oh yeah,
I've hit the big time.
I'm a one-hit Oneder...
like the O-need-ers...
or
Wonders.

The Caboose is Nine

They say it's your Birthday!

What's a Caboose want for her birthday breakfast?

Crepes, of course!

Forks? we don't need no stinkin' forks!

Napkins are for sissies!

Let the whipped cream flow!

Lunch at Three Margaritas!!

And a hike around Fox Run Park--

hands down our favorite park!

And yes, there is snow on the ground

and a

Nana in a skirt.

Ice crystals on the shore--

ooooo ahhhhhh

This was YOUR day, Bee.

We love yer guts

to infinity!

Thievin' Teen No More

The gravy is flowin' no more...
drama has taken a holiday at our house
thank. goodness.

Daisie has earned some of her
belongings back
through contrition.
The rest of it will come back soon.

Well, the stuff I took--
Nana is holding onto 1 or 2 things
for good measure...
because she's a teenager too
dontcha know,
and they're able to hold onto their
angst longer than old women like me.

So, the lesson seems to have been
learned
this week.

I AM accepting MOTY (Mother of the Year) nominations
in the
"creative uses of torturing a teen" category...
er, I mean,
"Creative Discipline" category.

Send your votes to Daisie  @ DramaMama@angst.com*

Thanks for your support!
Parents of Teens Unite!

*ps: fake email.

Can someone explain?

thumb rings:  Why?  

ear gages?  what is the GOAL here?  How big a hole are we trying to make in our ears?  and then what?  hang a canary inside?  Will you then wear a rainslicker to protect your clothing?  Who will scrub the bird poop off you at the end of the day?  What happens to the canary at bedtime? OR is the goal to be able to hook up a Bose speaker on each ear for the ultimate surround-sound?  Maybe a satellite dish?

toe rings:  hunh? everywhere I look, I see these tiny little peices of cheap silver on women's toes and I don't get it? Is this to attract strange men who have feet fetishes? eww.

"With rings on her fingers and bells on her toes

that's the way the story goes!"

Tattoos:  When I was a child, we'd get in trouble if we took markers to our selves.
Now, it's like coloring for adults.  Only alot more expensive.  And why do people lie to other people about their tattoos?  "Oh that's so nice." they say, when really, it just looks messy and the exact opposite of nice.  Is it because it's permanent and noone wants to hurt the tattoo owner's feelings?  "YOU GOT THAT? OH THAT'S AWFUL! SUCKS TO BE YOU FOR THE REST OF YOUR LIFE."
I have thought about getting my own tattoo tho, in light of my memory problems:
If Found, Please Return to Mr. Wonderful 555-1000.   Just right on the back of my palm, with a little ladybug. yeah? be honest. Nah, I'm joshin' you.  I can just take a sharpie and do that myself. 

Nose rings:  eww.  I've never seen one and thought, "Well, that one makes her look so smart/fashionable/ hip/fun/fill-in-the-blank."  Nope, just looks like a shiny thing hanging from their nose. Like a bullring.
Inquiring minds wanna know these things.  And what about cold season?? How does one blow their nose with a pointy thing stuck in it?  And don't even get me thinking about all the, ya know, snot all over it. {shudder}

Tongue rings aka Thung wings:  Ith it juth me or do thees peeupuwl thound like they hab a wathermelon-tholly-wanther in their mowffs?

Multiple piercings on face, including lips, eyebrows, ears:  Someone needs a hobby.  That's what I think when I see these people at the Mall foodcourt.  I used to wonder where they worked, besides Spencers and Hot Topic--you don't see them at the checkouts in Target, or at the Bank...but now I know...they are telephone operators.  I know this because I used to be a 555-1212 operator in Phoenix...and all the freakishly weird people work there.  Where noone can see them.  But, I do confess that when I have spoken to such a pierced person, I can't take my eyes off their "accessories"---and I forget to listen to what they're saying or look in their eyes.  Just too much going on all over their face--it's a distraction.
My thoughts go zippin' around:" I wonder if it hurt to stick a needle in their lip?
Do they know it's swollen and makes their lip/eyebrow/ nose/ear look kinda elephant-man-ish?" My eyes water just thinking about it.


Where are these people's friends when they need them?
Why aren't their friends being honest enough to say, "Nope. That's stupid. What else ya got?"

When my kids and I are out and about and see these decorated people, we all say, "He must not have any friends."  or "She has no friends."  Because real friends, would talk you outta doin stupid things.  Like poking and pinching and coloring all over your body.  Ya know, the things we learned in kindergarten, like not eating paste, or coloring on your neighbor.  Were so many kids absent that day or what?

I do have to say that the older these people get, it's going to be interesting and perhaps even entertaining to see how their looks change with the permanent damage they've done to their bodies.
Barnum and Bailey will have alot to choose from...maybe they're the ones behind these trends??  Can someone find out and get back to me?  Thanks.

It used to be that kids were getting these things to "express their individuality".
But like all the busty blondes in Utah, I think they go to tattoo/piercing shops in groups and say, "I'll have what she's having."-- so they can get a group discount.

Can someone explain this? 
Okay, I'm done.  I just wanted to put this out in the Universe and see if I'm the only one who wonders these things--so, do ya?
If not, what's something YOU wonder about??

C'mon, Inquiring minds wanna know.

"life is hard. 

it's even harder 

when you're stupid."

~John Wayne

Aftermath of Messing with your Teenager

She noticed.

And she was
 S T E A M I NG....

The Caboose came running into the kitchen
while I was making
BLT's for dinner--
hollaring--
"Prepare for Impact!!  Nana says!!"


Surfacing from her room,
Shoulders squared,
jaw lined
eyes glaring...
bum
bum
bummmmm!!!

"I want it back.  I want it all back. And I want it all back NOW!"

I turn slowly
and look curiously at her:

"Whatever do you mean, my Love?"

Disgust escapes her lips...
"UGH! You know what I mean! My STUFF!  My camera! My mascara! I want it back."

I try to feign innocence...but I'm translucent.  And kinda proud of it.

"You mean to tell me, someone had the NERVE to go into your room and take your stuff without asking??  How could they?  That's so so...what's the word?
Oh wait,
I think it's called
'KARMA' ?????

One of her eyebrows raised, in a that's-so-not-funny look.

The Caboose tosses another coal on the fire:
"And Mommy blogged it too!!!"

Being the almost 15 year old she is...the drama flowed like gravy on a buttermilk biscuit....
"I'm going to go to C.'s house tonight! And I'm not coming back until my stuff is back!"

Nana and I both giggle. 
This is SAWWWEEEEET!
Daisie is aghast at the nerve we had to take her stuff!!!!

I stop giggling...well, no, I didn't, but I managed to say:

"Um, no you may not go to C.'s house for the night.  It's a school night."

She stomps about...
o my heck--
this is priceless stuff here.
I wish I'd taken pics of her exasperation!

Nana and I are dying with pride in ourselves...
We did this right.

Dinner is finally on the table
and the call goes out
"DINNER!!"

Everyone comes, but Daisie.
I send a "runner"--
"Ask Daisie to come here", I say.
She presents
with invisible body armor--
glaring eyes
forced lips...

I greet her stance with a smile,
"Are you hungry?  I made BLT's for dinner."

This child never turns down a meal.
But tonight,
"NO, I'm too angry to eat." then spins on her heel
and heads back downstairs to her room--
we hear the door slam beneath us.

BLT's never tasted so good.

This Part of the Journey

The past couple of days
have given me alot to think about--
my mother buried her husband
on Monday,
and because of some wonderful
compassionate
LDS members in Texas,
her burdens were made
lighter.

I am so entirely grateful
to a group of people
I do not even know.
The Gospel
and the people who live it
makes this world
this cold
cold
cruel
crass
world,
a better place
to live in.

It sets a course for my life
and I am never alone in the journey.

And for the record,
you don't have to be a member of
the LDS church to have that kind of impact
on others' lives,
but it just so happens
that this is the Faith
I've chosen to ascribe to
and love.
This is the road I know.

As I was doing some Spring cleaning
this afternoon--
sitting in my room going thru boxes
I have yet to unpack since we moved
in this house July 2008--
the phone rang.
I yelled for someone else to answer it--
because I was on my bum
and certain it wasn't for me anyways
since there are teenagers who eat and breathe
the phone.


But I was wrong,
it was for me.

Hello?

"Hey, Dawn." I hear, though the voice is cracking with emotion.

Mom?  I know that voice even if I haven't heard it in forever.

"I just wanted to call and tell you I'm sorry."

And thus began a long overdue conversation.
Apologies flowed, in between tearful pangs of sorrow.
She expressed her deepest gratitude for
that young Bishop who has come into her life
and offered her hope and peace in her darkest hour.
"I'm going to Church on Sunday, Dawn.
I'm gonna try this again.
I just...feel it's time.
And Bishop M. is going to help me."

More tears.

I feel a lump in my throat. My own eyes fill.
Is this real?
I wonder.

"And your brother is going with me. He's changed too."

Really?  That brother?  The one who calls me a fool for being LDS?  He's going too?

All I can say is, "Wow." at first.
Then I offer, "The Gospel can be as great a blessing in your life, as you allow it to be, Mom."

I apologize for my previous anger.
She says, "You don't owe me an apology."
I do, I tell her.  It'll make me feel better to apologize.

"I'm sorry I wasn't my better self when you emailed." I tell her.

"It hurts when your own parents and family say you're going to hell for going to a
church that's different from theirs.
All that rejection...hurts."

More apologies.

Mom says she sees things--
sees the LDS Church
differently now.

I feel the difference in her voice.
The voice of a widow.
A humble, quiet voice.
I hear everything she's saying
and a thousand things
she's not.

This part of my journey has taken a turn I hadn't expected.


Excuse me while I write a letter to that wonderful Bishop in Texas.
And offer a prayer of gratitude.  I have much to be thankful for.
so much.

When You Mess with the Bull, You get the Horns OR How to Mess with Your Teenagers!

Dear 14-going-on-15-year-old aka Daisie:
You have a habit
that drives us C R A Z Y --
you "borrow" things without asking.
ALL THE STINKIN' TIME...

So, after much warning:
"How would you like it if I just went into your room
and took what I like without asking?"--
I joined forces with Nana
and we are exacting revenge
on you today.

We had a planning meeting
at breakfast--
WHAT we wanted to "BORROW" for sure
and
for how long
and
where would we hide the contraband.

For all those times you've  "borrowed" clothing
from Nana
without asking,
Nana has her own list of things she's "borrowing"...
like

Your favorite shoes....can I just say the "YESSSSS!!" that Nana yelped when she saw these shoes in the shoe basket this morning, made me jump!  She was delighted that you didn't wear them this morning!

Your camera--You're always stealing batteries for it from MY camera, or the TV remote, or wherever--even though yours came with a battery recharger!!!   USE IT!

Hairspray:  Afte you used all of Nana's, you bought your own.  So Nana felt this was fair.

Mascara:  Did you freak-out when you couldn't find it for school?  I'm gonna feel real bad about this tomorrow. Probably. Possibly. Maybe. not.

Your blowdryer:  Just knowing you're not gonna notice it's missing until you need it makes me joyous.

I did leave your curling iron tho.

Had to.  You said you are in the middle of reading it for the 12th time.  I didn't plan on taking it,

it just felt right tho. Like it spoke to me from your bookshelf: "Take me, Take me."

Your empty sock drawer:  Nana's idea.  Unfortunately, the only socks there weren't yours, but mostly the Caboose's, a couple of the Boofus', four of Nana's and one of mine.  Where are your socks? In that overfull, stuffed laundry basket in your room?  Coming up empty-handed with that was very sad for us.

So we looked around your room, and thought

WHAT ELSE???

Nana grabbed these...butterfly wings that hang above your bed.

No reason.

just cuz.

I took the calendar...why?

I have no idea.

But it made me laugh at the thought of it.
Women of the Old Testament--
like Leah "borrowed" Rachel's husband for 7 years?
or was it the other way around?

So I had to take that.

Daisie,

You will recieve your belongings in due time.

When we've used them up,

worn them out

loaned them to friends

or gotten bored with them.

Except for the blowdryer...

I think we can work out a deal with that...

but I do plan on taking it again

whenever the mood strikes

until you learn your lesson here.

And what is that???

ASK for permission to borrow things

and return them in as good or better shape

in a prompt and purposeful manner.

LOVE,

Momza and Nana

p.s. love yer guts.

pps ( I wonder how long before she figures to look here for the clues as to what is missing?? mwahahaha)

I'm a Mormon

Last week my mother's husband died.
Since I never lived with the man,
in fact, only met him twice
I don't define him as
stepfather.

I don't have a relationship with my mother either.
For reasons not appropropriate to share,
she and I have never ever ever been close.
Not since I was nine years old.

Our relationship really went down hill when,
at 16 years old,
I made the decision to join the LDS Church.
My family was so against it,
I was literally kicked out of the house
with the clothes on my back.
I was a senior in high school.

Months later,
my parents had a change of heart
and they, along with my 4 brothers
were also baptized into the LDS church.
But shortly after,
my parents' feelings got hurt
and that was that.
My parents backed out as fast as they came in.
But I didn't.
And because I didn't,
I was asked to leave the home again.

It wasn't awful.
I lived with some remarkably loving families
in the Church--
and I learned so much in a short amount of time
from the Mothers of those households--
on how to run a home
how to cook (cheese grits-- yum!)
how to sew,
how to use a soft voice...
and many other things.
So my time in their homes
at their sides
in their circles of prayer
was a blessing.

It's been almost 32 years
since I made that decision
and have never once
not even once
regretted it.
The LDS Church is my family.
No matter where I've lived in 32 years
when I walk into a Chapel
I am home.
The members welcome and
love us into
their fold,
teach my children,
bring in meals when I'm sick,
pray with us,
rejoice with us,
share our burdens.
I don't know how other people
get thru their trials without this kind of support--
I'm not that strong.

So when my mother's husband was sent home
to die,
his needs exceeded her abilities.
And after many years of silence,
she emailed me and asked if I could
contact the church for her
to receive some help with her husband.

At first,
I was angry.
Angry...
I didn't want to ask  the Church
in her area to help her.
Not after what she'd put me through
all these years--
constant persecution for being a member,
rejecting me
rejecting my children
it was just too much.

Then my heart softened
and I looked up the contact information
for the Church in her small Texas town
and sent it to her
with the message:
If they can help, they will.
I knew that to be true.
That's just what my people do.

She made the call
and the floodgates opened...
members came in and blessed her life,
like I knew they would.
They buoyed my mother up
through this difficult time.

I looked up airfare prices--
too little notice= too expensive,
so I didn't go.

The ward there took care
and stepped-up in ways
that has overwhelmed
my mother
and my brothers
and their wives
as well as the other relatives--
none of whom are LDS.

In speaking with two of my brothers last night,
they spoke of their humility
and gratitude for a young Bishop
who presided over the funeral--
he'd never even met my mother or family
until Sunday night.
My brothers said how completely in awe
they felt as they witnessed
kindness after kindness
from the members of the ward
who visited the home with dishes
and dishes of food
and words of comfort
and love.
One of my brothers said,
"Every time the doorbell rang,
we just looked at each other
wondering how could they keep coming?
We're not used to being treated like that."

Another brother said,
talking of the Chapel mortuary,
"You'd think there'd been more people for J.--
he'd lived there his whole life--
but maybe some were already dead, ya know?
The chapel was filled with Mormons though. I've never been hugged so much in my life.  And of all these men in suits and ties, you could pick out the Mormon men--there's just something different about 'em--know what I mean?"

Yeah, I do. It's called the Holy Priesthood.

A few minutes later, into our conversation, he said,
"I don't know what you did, Dawn, or who you called, but having the Mormons there, MADE it. They just knew what they were doing, and carried the whole thing off."

"I didn't make any calls. I didn't do anything. I gave mom their number and stepped back." I said.

That's all I had to do.

"People's lives were changed, Dawn. I'm not the same person I was. The Bishop took to me, and we're gonna keep in touch."

I took the opportunity to tell my brother that I am so glad the Mormons in that little town were exactly like the Mormons in the town I live in now. And I asked him, "Can you see why I've been a member all these years and raised my kids in it?  Can you see why now?"

"Yeah.  I love you Dawn."

"Tell Mom I love her."