Author: Angela

I write so my family will always have letters from home.

Smile First: Teenage edition

Smile First

(An updated version of a post I wrote in 2012)

I watched a young child inch his way from the back of a crowded room to the front to get closer to his mother who was speaking at the head of the congregation at church. He sat down on the front row and gazed up at her, anticipating her return. When she finished speaking and began walking to her seat, the child, anxious to be with his mother, uttered a hopeful little, “Mama,” looking for a hug and a joyful reunion. She was embarrassed that he had been walking around during the meeting and her grim face showed that she was upset with him (and maybe the father who had allowed the boy to wander). As she picked him up in a hurried way, he read all of her signs and began to cry. She wasn’t happy to see him waiting for her on the front row, after all.

She did something that is easy to do when a child does something, innocent or not, that draws attention to us in a crowd: she forgot to smile first.

When I saw this, I recognized myself. All children make noise and act out. They should be taught how to behave in church and at restaurants and stores, but I wonder if my children felt rejection when I “shushed” them all of the time. I wanted to be admired socially as a good parent. My children have never been very noisy, but there are other social missteps that they have shown. How many times had I been embarrassed that my child would not participate in an activity with other children or had been an overly picky eater as a guest in someone’s home, and resorted to strongly whispered bribes, pleas, and orders to try to get them to just be like everybody else?

My children, who have now learned how to sit still during a meeting and eat a variety of foods, don’t pose the same challenges that they did when they were little. Is there a principle of parenting here that can be applied to teens? What is a teenage equivalent to wandering around during a church meeting? Clothing choices, hair styles, being disengaged at family social gatherings and mumbling instead of speaking clearly are ways that teenagers inadvertently cause parents some social angst. I’m trying to omit the thought, “What will other people think if I don’t show public disapproval for immature behavior?”

Over the past few years I have remembered this phrase, “Smile first and correct them later.” I’ve made it a point to show my children and the world that I love these kids more than I disapprove of them. It takes courage to stop worrying what other people might think of my parenting if I choose to smile first and to correct them away from the crowd.

Birthday wishes

letter writing is so like, in right now...:
Image from goodmailday.tumbler.com via Pinterest

The General Conference Ensign magazine just arrived in my mailbox. This is one of my favorite birthday presents each year. I don’t like having a birthday on general election day, and this year I don’t. Richard has been asking me what I want for my birthday because I am someone who has everything, truly, everything. My wardrobe is immense, thanks to receiving hand-me-downs my whole life and because I can’t stop buying new blouses. I have a credit for books that I haven’t exhausted. I have time to read, write, create, make music, and be with friends.

I don’t need anything except maybe a new violin shoulder rest to help with my back pain as I play. When I told Richard I would love some new plastic cups for the kitchen, he just stared at me, trying to gauge if this was a trap. No way was he falling for that line, “I only want some plastic cups!” But that’s the kind of thing someone who has everything might actually want.

I love giving gifts, but not receiving them. I do love cards and letters. I guess if I had a birthday wish, it would be that people would write a little something to me. I think this is actually a pretty difficult thing for most people to do, so no guilt vibes from me. I also have a great love for sweets and anything that smells of coconut or vanilla.

And now I feel ridiculous for writing this self-centered post. I feel this great longing to do something that doesn’t involve thinking about myself.

We celebrated

Halloween feels different when teens are at parties and there is only one child at home to go trick or treating with. Mark is tremendously fun company and we enjoyed our walk through the neighborhood.

Have you read Bram Stoker’s Dracula? The description of Dracula includes the usual things you see in a classic costume, but one horrible detail is that he had hairy palms. Eww.

Timothy had no words to describe what he was dressed up to be, and neither have I. But the costume had the funny factor for sure.

Mark and I are pretty proud of the jack-o’-lantern we created.

The morning light of November 1 finds my shelves adorned with Pilgrims and Indians and expressions of thanks. Let the celebration of gratitude begin!

Hello Halloween

I realized the following:

  1. We haven’t carved pumpkins.
  2. I haven’t bought Halloween candy.
  3. Only one boy is dressing up this year. I think.
  4. I am ready to put up my Thanksgiving decor as soon as we stop seeing trick or treaters.
  5. I might like to dress up this year. I am thinking Rosie the Riveter.
  6. Paige is having fun being an illustrator and got her first commissioned project. Her Instagram feed this month has been whimsical and cute.
  7. Mark decorated his room with spiders and 6-inch plastic skeletons. Hanging just inside the door is a spider with a full human skeleton in its grasp. It’s so morbid that I can’t bring myself to take a picture.
  8. I have been sick and Richard took good care of me. Now that I am feeling better I will need to start cooking again.

A few things I am thinking about

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I just bought a gallon of milk that has an expiration date AFTER election day. We have almost made it! On social media, I got carrried away one day and temporarily blocked many friends who posted something political, so now my news feed is missing, oh, most people. My social media consists of Minion memes, recipes, weddings of people I have never seen before, and a lot of Chicago Cubs stuff. And there is that one friend who posts obscure quotes about classic literature and meditation. I figure many of my social media friends have blocked me for all the links I post to LDS.org. So much for social media being a way to communicate.

Richard and the boys pumped the attic full of insulation over fall break. I have been so warm at night ever since, but I am not sure if it’s because I have convinced myself that I will be warm or if there is a real difference.

Richard has always been conservative with energy use at the house. He is driven to see our kilowatt hours go lower and lower. Our power company gives us a graphic showing how we rank among our neighbors in energy usage. The coveted lowest tier is not yet ours, but I think Richard knows we can get there someday. Is your house full of LED lightbulbs? They are expensive and flicker, but the quality of their light is so much gentler than compact fluorescent bulbs.

Our refrigerator died on Friday night the minute after the appliance repair shops closed for the weekend. It is an 18 year old refrigerator, and it has kept our family alive for a long time. I feel some nostalgia as it begins to falter. Richard looked up another You Tube video about how to fix a refrigerator and got things running again. (He fixed our washer earlier this year after studying a You Tube video.) Better energy efficiency in a new refrigerator may put us in the running for the elite tier of energy savers in the neighborhood, so maybe we should buy a new one. We go round and round endlessly wondering what to do. I keep a thermometer in the refrigerator to make sure it’s staying cold as we enter day 4 of deliberation and negotiation. And I may have to cross over to stainless steel, a sure indicator that styles will change abruptly and stainless will be outdated.

One difficult part of my job at church is when someone asks a tricky question in class and the teacher asks me for a definitive answer. Women older and wiser than me hold their breath. “Will she be able to answer it?” they wonder. Kind and sympathetic women turn and give me encouraging looks. I got a tricky question on Sunday. For the first time in a year and a half, I came home from church not second-guessing my wording of an answer. It must have been important for me to have the answer on Sunday, because I hardly even blushed as I spoke. Maybe I am getting used to being put on the spot.

I hope you didn’t waste too much time reading this nonsense.

Sometimes visiting teaching looks like this

I have a church assignment to visit one of the women in this photo each month to share a gospel message and be her friend. I have a great partner who comes with me who could not be with us when this picture was taken. One thing I have learned about visiting teaching over the years is that sometimes a visit isn’t what a woman needs most. Sometimes it is a meal. Sometimes it is a phone call or a letter or text messages with funny or uplifting quotes. Always it is my prayers. Last night it was an impromptu birthday party at a restaurant. These are some of the busiest women I know but it was so good to take some time and be happy together.

The haircut

1995 Los Alamos-001
Post-haircut on the good side

Riding out of town with my groom after our wedding reception in a snowstorm felt adventurous. Unconcerned about realities, we snacked on wedding sandwiches and cake as we drove to Los Alamos, New Mexico, where we would spend the summer for Richard’s internship. We drove into a blizzard in Colorado and nearly ran out of gas at a mountain summit, but all this became part of the happy legend of our beginnings.

Were we ready for this life of independence, fending for ourselves far from home? I relied pretty heavily on Richard’s life experience; his mission years and his 4 years seniority meant that his points of reference no longer included high school experiences, as mine embarrassingly still did. Most of our belongings we left in a storage shed behind the house we would rent from my parents in Provo when the summer was over. We had only packed the essentials for three months away: some clothes, a cooler, sleeping bags, a grill, a tent, and my violin. Everything was new, from our camping gear and Richard’s job, to our life together.

Los Alamos (White Rock) is where I made my first attempts at homemaking in a fully-furnished house. While Richard worked, I had many hours to learn how to iron his shirts, dampening them and re-ironing when the seams weren’t right. I learned to skin and de-bone chicken; I may have watched soap operas. These were long days. After I got a job, the days weren’t so slow; we cooked together in the evenings and I didn’t spend all day reading cookbooks and walking mile after mile through deserted neighborhoods.

After about six weeks, Richard’s hair was getting long and we decided to buy an electric clipper so I could give him a trim. I had watched my mom cut hair for years. Confidently, I turned on the clipper and applied it to the side of Richard’s head. One simple sweep upward from the ear exposed a neat, nearly bald track through his hair. I had forgotten to put a comb on the clipper! I was mortified; I didn’t dare try to fix the problem, so we abandoned the haircut and he wore a baseball cap for a few days.

My parents came to town around this time and my mom was able to even up his haircut. What I remember most from the experience is how selfless Richard was. He didn’t act self-conscious about his ruined hair. He wasn’t angry with me. In fact, he reassured me that it didn’t matter. He had very short hair for a while, but he was so noble about it that he lifted me out of my insecurities.

As a seal of his fidelity and kindness, a couple months later, he asked me to give him another haircut.