Evolution: It's Something to Believe In

ev-o-lu-tion. n.

A gradual process in which something changes

into a different and usually more

complex or better form.

I love the word evolution.

To evolve, to change gradually, to become.

That is so Me.

At this age, how pathetic would it be,

if I still thought and acted like a twenty-year old?

At twenty-one I was a new young mother

who didn't know a dang thing.

But I was an eager student

to learn how to become better.

Reading books,

listening to good women and men's counsel,

seeking

always seeking out the good stuff

has helped me

"evolve".

We're all evolving

on some level.

Some of us take longer to learn 

the lessons of life

than others.

Common sense is not so common.

Sometimes it seems that

the World of Logic

is next to

Fantasyland.

In my fiftieth year,

just when I'm comfortable

with what I've learned,

my brain lets go of things

randomly, without warning.

Even in this process,

I am evolving my attitude

that says

"I must control everything"

with the realization

that it's not necessary.

I've made my best efforts in some areas,

most of these years,

but not always.

I can still do better.

Be better.

That's very encouraging thinking 

for my heart--

to know I've still got time to love more,

love deeper,

love for the sake of love.

There's yet more to learn

to explore and experience.

And heck no,

I'm not going to be perfect at it

the first go-'round.

But I can get better.

Having realistic expectations for myself,

gives me opportunities to teach my children

that they too

are evolving human beings,

and some days are gonna be wrecked-up messes--

regret, remorse, repentance

will all be part of their 

Journey.

So is forgiveness and love of self.

Appreciation 

for another sunrise

to try again

is seen as the true gift it is

in the light of day.

Whilst In the midst of trials,

all is not lost.

All is measured and weighed,

added to the sum total

of the equation

of evolution.

When our understanding matches our actions

then we can measure more fairly.

When we know better

we do better.

Doesn't it all make sense this way?

That's the legacy I want to leave behind

for my posterity.

That Life is for Learning:

"Do your part"--something we say to our children each day; 

and something I am certain they are sick of hearing, 

but also something I am certain 

they will say to their own as well.

"Learn what you need to learn,

and get on with it."

"This is the day that the Lord hath made,

let us rejoice 

and be glad in it."

Trials are part of this great journey...

but like a gray cloud--

as dark and fierce as it may be--

thankfully,they too pass.

There's yet much joy to be found

no matter what our circumstances may be.

We just have to look for it,

or 

create it if necessary.

Don't let the ghostly weight of past flubs

tether themselves

to the dreams of today.

Forgiveness of self is part of evolution.

Make things right

and then move forward 

with confidence.

You and me?

We have a work to do in our own little part of the vineyard.

I used to kneel and dig the earth

then I planted the seeds,

tended the little sprouts as they shot up to the sky,

watered and fed them most days--

and here I am,

standing 

in the glorious vineyard 

that is mine 

to enjoy 

in the rays of the sun,

shadow of the moon,

cloudy and rainy days,

snow-covered nights,

and every day that I cast my eyes heavenward.

Evolution.

I bet you thought I was writing about Apes, hunh?
Nope. 

.

Brett Favre and Me: Leaving a Legacy

It takes many good deeds to build a good reputation, 

and only one bad one to lose it." - 

Benjamin Franklin

I've been thinking lately--

well, as much as my noggin will allow, right?--

and not to get morbid here,

because some people don't like to think of 

their own mortality.

But I do, 

and I've been wondering what 

my personal "legacy" will be

when I've cashed in my chips,

taken a dirt nap,

passed on,
kicked the bucket,

departed,

taken a trip to the

Garden of Sleep...

well, you get the picture--

what will be my legacy,

my reputation?

What will my yahoos tell their yahoos

about Dear Ol' Momza?

I bravely put the question out there

this past weekend,

here are the responses:

Nana: "I'm not talking about this. It makes me sad."

Daisie: "My Mom was nuts."

Joseph: "You're awesome and you're not dead. Can I go play now?"

Ari: (puts her arms around my neck) "That I love you. No fair that Joe gets to play,

can I go to Natalie's?"

No help.

I tried calling Dani and David Scott to ask them,

but they didn't answer.

And when they called me back later,

I forgot the question.

Oh well.

What got me really thinking about

legacies is the word

"reputation"--

as in a person's reputation

and what that means.

Ben Franklin got it right.

We're all innocent until proven otherwise.

We all have a great reputation until we don't.

Brett Favre.

I'm not a big football fan.

I endure football season because my Mr. Wonderful

IS a football fan.

My one contribution is Super Bowl Sunday cupcakes.

no kidding.

But I know who Brett Favre is...

was.

As far as I knew 

he was a family man.

a Christian.

a Granpa.

And there's something about him being a really 

good

Quarterback for a zillion years in there too.

And being a really good Quarterback,

I'm sure he has said "No" to many temptations

in his life.

I'm sure he has turned his head,

closed his eyes,

locked his heart,

and walked away

from temptations more than we will ever know.

Until he didn't.

And now he has another reputation.

This one he didn't want.

This one that pains his wife and family.

This one he probably never thought he'd have.

And that stinks.

He changed his own legacy
and not for the good.
What can he possibly do now
that would blot out this stain on his reputation?

Whatever he does,
it'll always be in a foot-note in every article
that will ever be written about him.
No matter all the good he has done,
the charities he's contributed to,
the repentance he offers,
it will be there like a bad penny
always showing up at the bottom of my purse.

Which makes me grateful
I am just a speck on this earth.
I'm not going to be on the five oclock news--
unless my house burns down
or I'm found wandering around,
clueless to my own identity,
chompin' on a Three Muskateers
and wearing my underwear over my clothes.
"Woman Found Eating Chocolate and Wearing Only Her Underwear--next on NewsFour!"


Hey, it could happen.

Okay, back to the point--
I've made mistakes.
If my kids were being honest,
they have alot on me--
the good
the bad
and the ugly.
Who I am now,
is not the same person I started out as...
I've evolved.
I've read books about parenting,
wife-ing,
Live-ing,
Choos-ing
and Own-ing my life.

And while I wish I could've absorbed every good thing
I've ever read and made it apart of me instantly,
I'm sorry to say that only a fraction actually took root
and that stuff took awhile to grow
and even longer to blossom.

I'm not perfect.
Sheesh.
I hate that word.
I am not even nearly perfect.
And yet,
I hope that the legacy that is left
when the dust settles
and the stories are passed down
from one generation to the next,
that if my name is ever mentioned
it will to the tune of:
"Youre just like your Granmomza--she was so fun."
or
"That was Dawn's favorite hymn."
or
" Mom loved pie."
or
"Remember that time when Mom dropped the whole pan of spaghetti sauce and it
exploded everywhere?"
or
"Mom always chose her Super Bowl team by their jersey colors, and that's how she chose Super Bowl cupcakes too!"

I don't know.
That's really kinda naive to think of only the positives.
But, as Joseph put it so well,
I'm not dead yet.
So there's still time to make amends for my flaws and flubs
and hopefully,
they'll just be footnotes in the legacy I leave.

On Brett Favre,
I hope he makes his life right again.
He's got alot of work to do.
That's something he and I have in common:
We both have time to do it.


What about your legacy?
Any thoughts?

Make It Do, Make It Last, Make It Over or Do Without

We have this idea in our house
that you have to identify
NEEDS VS. WANTS.

Most times,
the call is evident regarding
a
Need
and
a
Want.

Like new shoes
a new coat
stuff like that.

Not on the list of needs?
Ipods
Ipads
and a host of other things that
saturate the airwaves these days.

I look at things and think:
"Am I being a responsible steward,
if I spend money on this?"

I know it's cheesy.
Archaic.
Dull.

Yet, that's the message in my head.

So,
getting to the point,
we have a dinosaur TV.
It's a behemoth,
n' bulky
and unbelievably heavy--
nothing like those
sleek
plasma
Hi-Def
LED
LCD
LMNOP
TV's that taunt me , I mean, my yahoos
whenever we're at Best Buy
with their 55 features
and magnificent color.

I've been telling the yahoos
that we don't need
one of those
awesome things
because the one we have
works fine.

But guess what, chicken butt?

The ol' box
up and died on us
last weekend.

I am so stinkin'
excited

sad.
sad.
sad.
so much.

Giving Permission to Evolve: a Lesson I Learned in Parenting

When my oldest son was just five years old,
I recall a conversation between the two of us
that went something like this:
"when I was your age, 
I was like this [fill in the blank]
and I think you should be doing this [fill in the blank] too."


To which my little boy responded:
"I'm not like you. I'm my own person, Mom."

At the time, I didn't know what to say back to him.
What I wanted was for him to be the person
I wanted him to be...
I was inexperienced.

Fortunately,
we both grew up.
He is now a man with a wife and a job.
I'm grateful that I didn't do much permanent damage
to his little ego,
that he was stubborn enough
to be true to his inner voice.

The truth is,
he was a really sweet little guy.
If I could have a do-over of his young childhood,
I would so take that and run with it.

The older I get,
the more I realize how important it is for us
as parents to let our children
be the Leaders once in awhile.
I don't always have to know all the right answers
to all the questions.
Frankly,
some questions have many right answers,
we just have to be open-minded to see the possibilities.

It's called Evolution.
We're here on this earth to learn how to live happily.
Not selfishly.
Not My-Way-Or-The-Highway.
and conversely,
Not Walk-All-Over-Me
either.

We're supposed to make mistakes and learn from them.
Supposed to.
And yeah, sometimes we let stupid things block out
common sense,
but most of the time,
we don't.

And it's important to realize that
our kids need permission to live and learn
and not be berated for their mistakes
however small,
or too afraid to admit they've erred
for fear of the consequences.

I am a believer in Love and Logic
in parenting.
Common Sense still needs to be taught though.
And Natural Consequences are great Teachers.
And the foundation for parenting,
in my humble opinion,
is mutual respect.


And before you think I became a parent knowing this,
let me assure you, 
I did not.


Having been raised by wolves,
I had to learn this Mutual-Respect stuff
by trial and error.
I had to Educate my Self...
By looking honestly at my parenting skills,
and reading parenting books,
talking to other parents whom I respected,
asking for divine help at every turn.

I wanted to be a better parent
than the parents I had.

Honestly, once I realized how much I didn't know
and how much mercy I needed for my own
faults and flubs,
I repented and gratefully accepted the fact
that I am capable of change.
Of Evolution.

And with that understanding of my Self,
came the awareness
that I also needed
to acknowledge that
divine character
in my children.
I owe them that much.

So yes,
we are continually evaluating our methods--
somethings work with some kids at some times
and somethings don't...
so we re-evaluate our methods of training
and teaching--
though the principals we're trying to
teach
and learn
remain the same.

I have found
and continue to find evidence
that this approach to life and parenting,
works for my family.
The ability to say to my children,
"Hey did you learn from this experience?
Have you evolved from your previous knowledge
to something higher?"
--has been a blessing for all of us.


What parenting philosophy works in your family?

Of Rocks and Families

Ever have one of those weeks

Where so much happened in just a matter of days,

You wondered how that amount of living

Could’ve fit into a small space of time?

Well, that’s how I feel…

And here’s how it went:

A little over two weeks ago,

Mr. Wonderful answered to jury duty.

He came home that first day

Hoping he wouldn’t have to return the next.

But he did.

And his company in Aurora, Colorado

Was not happy about his missing work.

But he had no choice, as you know

If you’ve ever been chosen for jury duty.

Then, on Day Two,

Mr W came home a somber man.

He said,

“I’ll never discuss this case with you,

Even after it’s over.”

When I guessed at which high profile case

Was currently in the papers,

His reply was,

“You can’t ask me that.”

Then I knew I was right.

But I didn’t ask him about it.

Instead, I pulled him in close and said,

“Be a blessing to that family.”

It was a criminal case involving the

Horrible murder of a special-needs young man

By two positively evil people,

whom this young man trusted as friends.

Because special-needs beings are so

Trusting and naïve,

They give trust where none is deserved.

The impact of Mr W’s call to the jury would impact our family

In more than financial ways.

So much more.

Since I knew I would need to work some through this,

I met up with a gal I know a little bit from church

Who owns a house cleaning service

And was offered a job on the spot

In Albertsons, no less.

Then I got really sick,

And couldn’t start until this past Wednesday.

But she was patient,

And happy to have me on board.

So I began on Wednesday

To clean other people’s houses.

The shoe was on the other foot

For me.

See, I’ve had housecleaners over the years,

But I’ve never cleaned professionally before.

This was a new experience!

I was as excited about trying something new,

As I was about earning a little extra cash

While Mr W was on the jury.

In the past three days,

I’ve cleaned mansions on hillsides,

And a historic mansion in downtown Colorado Springs.

I’ve mopped floors for executives,

And Air Force Colonels,

Historians,

Ministers,

And working mothers.

Some homes are right outta

House Beautiful,

With fantastic views and gilded-gold-everythings

And some are just namby-pamby-mish-mashed

ordinary homes.

But, I felt privileged to be invited inside.

To wash and wax,

To fold and tuck,

To serve,

Even if it was for my own gain,

It still blessed my life.

The one thing all of those houses

Have in common is this:
Family.

Old photos, framed with care,

Of grand parents

And new photos of
families, weddings, grandbabies

Of days gone by,

all carefully displayed.

Letters and notes stuck on fridges

And nightstands,

Of “I love you-s”…

From little ones’ crayons

To big ones’ cursive.

So easy to see where hearts are knit together.

So affirming to me of the strength that is

Found in Family.

Whereas  Mr. Wonderful spent 14 days

Listening to testimonies of degradation

And violence that two men learned

In their families,

And how that life experience led them to the

Choices they’ve made,

Ruining their own lives,

Impacting an innocent family—

I was out in the world

Experiencing another kind of

Familial Love.

Mr W said that the victim’s father sat in the courtroom

every minute of every day for the entirety.

Even when the victim’s brother had to leave the courtroom

in frustration and fury,

and the victim’s mother had to leave with her grief-drenched heart

so as to avoid hearing the details of her son’s gruesome last moments.

The father stayed.

He sat there
and he listened
and he looked
at the evidence,
every bit of it.
Can you even imagine?

Mr. W met the father one morning in the hallway—

Just the two of them there,

The father smiled at Mr W. and said

“Good Morning.”

Mr. W. said he felt the Spirit wash over him,

“You’re here to bring comfort to him.”

Leaving no doubt in his heart that he was

where he was supposed to be.

No matter the financial burden that our family

might endure.

This was meant to be.

This past week was a long one.

Mr W did not discuss the case with me

until today, guarding my heart

because I am the mother of a special-needs son.

Today, the defendant was sentenced to

Two consecutive Life sentences

Plus 32 years.

No parole. Ever.

Guilty on 7 counts.

The defendant’s family wept openly.

The defendant stood alone in his sin.

The victim’s family wept openly too.

For their boy.

For justice fought for and won.

And Mr W wept to himself.

The weight of the moment was not lost on him

or the rest of the jury.

And now, we’re left to see if we can spit-shine

The dust off the experiences we’ve had this week…

Mr. W says he learned that the fight between Good vs. Evil is real—

And it’s not just “out there”

Its in our backyard.

And the Prophets are right and true—

There’s a battle going on for the souls of men,

And those battles start in the Family.

And I learned that it’s good to get out of my little

Cocooned world.

To try a new skill,

And not be ashamed to scrub toilets,

Or wax floors of total strangers--
that work is work and is good for us all.

Joseph asked me on Wednesday night if

I am a “maid”.

“I guess so.” I said.

Right about that time,

The phone rang, and it was my longtime friend and home staging partner,

Kelly.

She asked how my first day went.

“I am beat! It’s like speed-cleaning!” I replied.

Then she asked if I wanted another job.
So my maid-days were short-lived.

I’ll be working with Karen Jones at her brand new

All About Home Interior Design Center.

My dream job.

Total Apple Pie for me.

I start Monday.

So our rocks have been tumbled about,

Smoothing out the rough spots of ignorance,

Knocking off the high bumps of pride,

Polishing our Spirits in knowledge.

We see things differently today

than we did just 14 days ago.
I hope we're never the same.

Rock Shining

I've been too busy having
an "exciting and joyful" life
this week to blog.
Exciting as in "growth in understanding"
and
Joyful as in "learning to be grateful".

The culmination of which is,
rumbling
tumbling
ping-pong-ing
around my noggin
like a rock in a tumbler.

When I sort it all out,
and get it to a shine,
I'll be back to share
where I've been,
what I've learned
and
the joy of having an exciting life.

Cause you know,
that's why we're here--
"men are that they might have joy".

and pie.

lots of really good pie.

Best Of Momza's House

first run last February 2010.

The Yahoos and I went up to Denver today

to Cherry Creek Mall...

we'd never been there,

no not in the 13+ years we've lived in Colorado.

Never.

The only store I loved was

Anthropologie.

So. cute.

But that's not what I wanna share.

So we're sitting on a garden wall

waiting for some of our gang

to come out of Urban Outfitters

and some of our gang

to come back from the Loo--

when I look down the way a bit

to see a very very elderly man

slowly shuffling his way towards

our end of the Mall.

His steps are teeny tiny baby steps,

his arms are swinging in unison,

as tho he is using them to push him along.

I whisper to Daisie so she can notice him too.

She has been very much a 14-going-on-fifteen-year-old

lately...

you know what I'm talking about:

self-absorbed, curt, whiny, some moments I am

exasperated by her--

I wanted her to see something real--

someone whose struggles

were on the outside

easy to see

and perhaps sympathize.

She watched his motions

as his path crossed right in front of us,

her heart melted,

she said,

"I wonder if he needs help?"

I looked into her eyes

and said,

"How bad do you wanna know?"

She winced for a moment--

thought about it,

then stood up

and walked over to him--

immediately the rest of my yahoos' eyes

were fixed on their sister.

They hadn't heard our conversation

but they had certainly seen the man.

When Daisie got to him,

his eyes lit up

a broad smile surfaced on his lips

and I heard him say to her

request,

"God bless you.

God bless you.

God bless you."

-- in broken english.

And he put one of his arms on her shoulder,

looking deep into her eyes.

He shook his head no

and kept shuffling

until he was outta sight.

When she returned to me,

her eyes met mine

and we both teared-up.

I told her I was so proud of her

and hugged her guts!

She said it reminded her of some show she had seen

where an actor

pretended to need help

to see who would step up and offer it.

I told her it reminded me of the Savior

who said,

"Inasmuch as ye have

done it unto the least of these,

my brethren,

ye have done it unto me."

A Family Mission Statement And An Invitation

When I  think of different people,
there are often particular images that come to mind--
like when I think of Southerners,
I think of hospitality, easy-going smiles, corner churches,
and Friday night football.

When I think of people I know,
I generally think of their family members,
the house they live in,
where they work,
but mostly,
how they treat others,
or what I know to be important to them.

The older my family grows,
the more clear our family identity becomes
to each of us...
my southern roots show when we invite others
into our home,
around our dinner table,
and share whatever we might have to offer.

If you were a fly on the wall at our house,
you would get an earfull--
lots of joking around,
laughter,
poking at each other,
and inevitably the conversations come around
to the topic of sharing the gospel.

That's just a natural consequence in our circles of friends.
We don't sit around and tap our noggins
trying to think of whom we can share our testimonies with--
we're not that good of planners, honestly.
But, being friendly to start with,
we make new friends easily,
and it goes from there.

IN his book, "The 7 Habits of Highly Effective Families",
Stephen Covey admonishes the creation of a
Family Mission Statement,
to create purpose and unity within the family.
And while we haven't sat down together and formally
created our own mission statement,
there is a recognition of at least one of our
familial callings,
Missionary Work.

Our family identity is centered on
The Restored Gospel.
We are missionaries.
It's what we do--
The Colonel does KFC chicken
and we share the gospel.

Last week,
Nana started a new semester in college.
In one of her classes,
she was chosen as a partner by a classmate,
as part of a class assignment to write about someone
and introduce them to the rest of the class--
he said,
"I wanted to choose someone who would be interesting.
I knew if I chose you, I wouldn't be disappointed. You're a Mormon.
I choose you."
Then he proceeded to tell her about himself--
he's married and has a child and he's an Athiest.
This last week, they set aside some time to work on the project
with another classmate Nana invited into their group as well.
Nana was surprised that he'd chosen her solely because of her faith,
and welcomed the chance to share what she knows and how she feels
about what she knows.

Nana was excited.
Before she left for the meeting,
we had a few minutes to talk about
what sharing the Gospel means to her,
and how much our family is defined
by this calling of missionary work.

All of us, from the youngest to the oldest,
share this calling together.
We are a Family,
A Work in progress,
and we are also missionaries for
the Gospel of Jesus Christ.

"...if ye have a desire, ye are called to the work."

So I'm just wondering--
has your family created their own mission statement?
As we are all missionaries for something,
What are you missionaries for?
If you'd like more information about creating a Family Mission Statement,
take a look over at Simple Mom.

Something to Share:
To my non-Lds friends--
Have you ever wondered what the Book of Mormon was?
Would you like to read it right where you are, to get a feel for it?
Well you can do that with no obligation to anyone or anything at--Read the Scriptures.com

I've set a goal to read the entire Book of Mormon in 100 days, and if you'd like to join me, start today.

That's just sixty-six verses a day...and get this, Read the Scriptures.com has an audio feature.  Just click a button, and listen to it right here at your computer.  Doesn't get any easier than this!  

The Book of Mormon is true.  And you can know it for yourself.  It has the power to change your life.

If you want to let me know you're reading/listening online, I'd love to share the journey with you!

To receive your complimentary copy of the Book of Mormon, check out https://www.mormon.org/beliefs/book-of-mormon 

That's Just What We Do, Right?--a Birth Story

I have tons of pictures from our camping trip--
it was,
as my yahoos like to say,
Epic.


And as I was uploading said pics on Saturday morning,
there was a disturbance in the Force,
such that, I didn't finish.
I'd just gotten out of the shower,
dressed,
hair still wet,
and honestly, I was poking around
not gettin' a darn thing done.

Camping wears me out a bit,
so I get pokey afterwards.
We were set to go to Elitches in Denver
for the day,
and honestly, I was hoping we could postpone it
til next weekend.
Instead of getting ready to go,
I was on my bahooey at the pc
putting together a blog for a
Celebration of the 15th Anniversary of
 The Family: A Proclamation to the World.
I'd just finished it,
when the phone rang--
it was my cohort-in-crime, Nan
wanting to know if I'd be interested in
being a doula at a hospital birth
for a mutual friend (M.) of ours'
daughter-in-love (Mama Joy*)...
whose due date was August 24th.
Heck yeah! I'm in!
Right then, she got another call--
"Hold on a sec, I've been waiting for this call." she says.
She's gone for a couple of minutes,
returns and says,
"That was M.--
it seems Mama Joy's water has broken.
Can you go over right now?"

I grabbed my shoes,
ran a comb thru my still-damp hair,
and thought to bring my scrubs and doula stuff,
just. in. case.

I picked up Nan on the way,
cuz I didn't know Mama Joy's address and Nan didn't either
but knew how to get there.
When we arrive,
Mama Joy is fretful--
red nose, watery eyes, trembly lips...
I gave this new acquaintance a good hug
and assured her that things will be okay.

After just a few questions,
it sounded certain that her membranes had spontaneously ruptured--
she'd made a call to her hospital and they told her to come in
of course.
Mama Joy hadn't packed her hospital bags yet...
thinking she still had two weeks,
so we quickly came up with a necessity list of things to grab,
and also made a call to see if she could get a
priesthood blessing before leaving--
and within minutes two dear friends were over
to do just that.
Mama Joy was calm afterwards,
as was her young husband, Papa J.

I met them at the hospital
and after a bit of time in the triage,
she was admitted and given a room.
She wasn't having any good quality contractions,
the doctor had already prescribed pitocin
within the hour
if labor didn't progress.
So we took a stroll down the halls
and within 35 minutes,
her ctx were three minutes apart!
YES!!

Mama Joy's goal was an un-medicated birth...
and let me say,
she was awesome!
She'd not taken a single birthing class,
but listened to every direction and counsel I gave her
and acted in every way
with purpose and focus.
Her sweetheart was exactly the same--
he learned to breathe with her,
massage her,
comfort her with encouraging words
after some coaching from me,
I found him to be a wonderful helper for
Mama Joy.
For 20 minutes of every hour,
she had to be on the fetal monitor...
but as soon as she could get off that,
she was moving--
walking the halls
in the shower
in the jacuzzi
standing at a high counter, leaning over it,
while Papa J did hip compressions,
swaying her side to side
helping that little baby move down.
When she had to be in bed,
I used aromatherapy lotion,
tranquil mint
to rub her feet which she loved
and was able to relax so much
that it looked like she was sleeping
between contractions!
We kept her hydrated so well
that she didn't have to have an IV...
tho she did have a hep-lock just in case.

When she was showing signs of transition,
(trembling, vomiting, change in emotion)--
the nurse checked and she was 9 cm dilated!!!
YES!
Within minutes she was complete!
YES YES YES!!!
She got a nice
"rest and be thankful" phase--
where her body stopped contracting for a few minutes.
At that time,
I coached her on what to do next
to bring the baby down
and how to push for the delivery.

She did it exactly as I said,
and twenty minutes later,
she delivered a perfect seven pound
baby boy!

The nurse staff was awesome,
and we all worked together so well.
I loved it
and they did too.
Mama Joy and Papa J. declared,
"we couldn't have done it without you!"--
but they could've and
they would've done it just fine,
ya know?

After family arrived
a few hours later,
hugs went all around
and it was time to go.
As the family was expressing gratitude
for my time and service,
I smiled and said,
"Isn't that what we do?"

I went home a happy doula.

I love what I do.
And to have the opportunity to be a part of a sacred event,
a birth,
is as much a blessing for me
as it was for them.

What lingers for me, even today is this:
I didn't wake up yesterday morning
planning to be at a total strangers'
birth...
that was a total gift
to me.
ya know?
We all have talents and abilities
to bless other people's lives--
I have been on the receiving end many times,
and to be able to pay it forward
to step up with just a moment's notice
is one way I can express my talents in purity
and truly feel those warm fuzzies way deep inside.

And get this!!
This morning, my Nana called--
she's in California visiting.
She doesn't have her own car,
but she wanted to go to church.
So she called a meetinghouse,
and whomever answered the phone

picked her up
took her to church
and another family took her back to the hotel
afterwards
and offered their services to her while she's in California--
a meal,
a place to stay,
a ride to the airport next week...
whatever she needed...
because as they said to her,
"That's just what we do."

Yes,
Yes it is.

*Mama Joy is not her real name. But she was a Joy to me!)

My Home Is Not A Dump Station

I had a "light bulb moment" this week...
an epiphany,
if you will...
here it is:

Sometimes a home
is mistaken for a
dumpster:
instead of slimy banana peels, wadded up napkins,
used cans of corn and empty bread bags,
there is an attitude of
fussy
whiny
ingratitude.

The realization came when I noticed
la familia
saving their "worldly trash"
for me and our home.

I became sensitive lately to it all...
my socially-polite family
goes out into the world,
functions at their best,
uses their best manners to deflect
awkwardness, rudeness, negativity
and that which isn't deflected
is brought into the front door,
dumped out.
And then--
BAM!
before I know it,
I am covered in the smudge of their lives
outside of my house.

I work hard to make my home
a place
I want to be
and
a place my family wants to be too--
and I realized I don't like it
when my family comes in and
wrecks up the peace!

So, at dinnertime last night,
I spoke to them all about their
dumping habits
and I declared that my home
is
not a Dump Station!

Truly,
I told the family how their dumping affects me
and while I am fine to listen to their trials and challenges,
as in, "I had a crummy day because....",
it is when they come home
snippy
fussy
whiny
that it's not fair to expect me to have to listen to it
and then smile back at them!
If we want our home to be a haven,
it's up to us to create it!
Hear! Hear!
"he that hath ears to hear,
let him hear!"
And you know what?
I think they listened.
Mr. Wonderful agreed that it's hard to go out into the world,
and not bring that negativity back through the front door,
but it's also true
we just don't need that stuff in here.
I'm trying to think of some visual reminder
I can put outside for the yahoos
by the front door
that will help them
leave the
"trash"
outside.
A trash can would look awful,
so I'm thinking
with my thinker
so we'll see.
Any ideas?? Hmmm??

Talents and Jobs--The Value of Work

I come from a family of entrepreneurs--
not your million dollar kind--darn it--
but the garden-variety-salesmen-type.

My dad was a salesman for a living--
he used to say he could sell
"ice to an eskimo"
and when he left the house it was,
"I'm goin' to see a man about a dog"--
which, until I was like 8 or 9 years old,
I thought he was actually going to see
a man
about a dog.
Because of my dad's job--
a Food Broker,
we had lots of different kinds of
food
and
other products come thru our house
in huge amounts that most of my friends'
homes did not--
such as a freezer full of
Sarah Lee cakes and pies,
PeterPaul candies by the boxfull,
RiceaRoni by cases,
GreenGiant frozen foods
Kenner toys like Barbies, Suzy Homemaker ovens,
"Skip-its", and all kinds of toys.

Since giveaways have always been around,
he'd have odds and ends of little things too--
and my mom would set us little kids loose in the
neighborhood
to sell whatever we could--
one year,
it was christmas candles shaped like
snowman, Santa and Mrs. Claus, christmas trees, etc.
We piled them in the wagon
and went door to door
with my 4 year old brother in the wagon
and went around the block selling them for
.15 cents a piece.
We made some extra cash,
and gave mom some quiet time.
It also taught us lessons on being
social.
Mom would coach us before we left
with our wagon:

"Ring the doorbell and wait for them to answer.

Say, 'Hello Ma'am, my name is _________. 

I've got some beautiful candles I'd like to show you.'--

Then hold them out so the person can see them,

and tell them they're for sale for fifteen cents. 

That's one dime and one nickel."

And that's what we did.

We were always looking for opportunities to sell things--
my dad had a good job but was terrible with money.
It was either feast or famine
around our house.
I mean it--
there were weeks where we only had
rice-a-roni for breakfast, lunch and dinner.
Or
just Sarah Lee cakes and pies
for breakfast, lunch and dinner.

To give some perspective,
I was nearly 40 years old before I ever
bought
a single box of rice-a-roni
or a Sarah Lee pound cake.

Anywho--

When I was around thirteen,
I would look thru magazines and come across
little ads to sell
Burpee Seeds
or
All-Occasion -Cards--
the companies would send you
samples
that you could take door to door
and order sales for--
or with the seeds,
you could just sell what they sent you;
split the profits down the middle
and send them their share via money order.
The All-Occasion-Cards,
usually had
"personalized imprinting" on them,
so you could only sell about half of them
upfront,
the rest had to be special ordered.

I also had summer jobs
selling the Miami Herald,
the Charlotte Observer,
and the Denver Post--
depending on which city I lived in--
my brothers and I all did that.

On a side note--
I also picked peppers and
cucumbers as a kid in Florida.
But that's another story.

I babysat all the time
for neighbors and friends
through most of high school.

My first real job
was at Lakeside Amusement Park
in
Lakewood, Colorado
as a Games Attendant.
It was a great job for a teenager--
when we weren't on the clock,
we could ride rides for free--
and what's not to love about that?

My second real job was
at Target!
No kidding!
I loved it then and I love it now.

I am a jack-of-all trades--
I've worked as a
*Chairside Dental Assistant,
*Yogurt/Ice Cream Store Assistant Manager,
*Cambridge Diet Consultant's personal secretary, (do you remember Cambridge Diet?)
*Retail sales: Sears, in their women's department;
*JCPenney's Fine Jewelry associate and merchandising assistant,
*Restaurants: Winchell's Donuts, Red Lobster, Pizza Hut,
*So-Fro Fabric Store clerk
*Bank Teller for Nationsbank and Bank One,
*Chiropractic Office--front and back office,
*411-phone operator & an answering service operator,
*floral decorator's assistant,
*midwife's assistant,
*doula,
*home stager,
and something that is on the horizon
that I am so stinkin' excited about!

Times have changed so much--
it's cliche but it's true--
I would never send my kids
around a neighborhood to sell
anything without me--
we don't even do fundraisers for schools
that involved door-to-door sales.
It's just too dangerous.
Neighborhoods aren't the same anymore,
ya know?

I learned things from my experiences
doing different jobs
from a young age--
One is,
you can learn just about anything
if you have the right attitude
and the right teacher.
Another is,
there are few things sweeter than
earning a paycheck
no matter how old you are.
You can make some great friends
in the process too
and your understanding of the world
around you has more clarity
when you've learned something new.
I have more patience at restaurants
and with waitresses--
because of that one summer at Pizza Hut.
Same goes for waiting in the lines
at the Bank.
I appreciate floral arrangements on a different level,
because I was the prep-gal for the florist.
The dentist office is no more a mystery than a
Chiropractic office to me.
I'm as comfortable in one as the other,
and so are my yahoos.
I love to listen to birth stories
or home decorating ventures...
the process of each is so interesting to me!
With each job
I've gained or refined a talent--
whether it's a mechanical talent
or a social awareness,
it all adds up.

Work is good for the soul.

What about you?
What kinds of jobs have you had?
Any that you loved or hated?