Mary Christmas

In church on Sunday, the kids put together a brief live Nativity. This sparked quite the discussion with my 4-year-old son on the ride home. It went something like this:

“Mom?”

Yes?

“Can we do that game again?”

Sure, we’ll do it Christmas Eve.

“I want to be Mary.”

Okay.

“Mom?”

Yes?

“Next time you shouldn’t stand behind Mary.”

I was just handing her the baby when it was time to be born.

“Oh, so the box you had the baby in was her tummy?”

Yes.

“Mom?”

Yes?

“How did the baby get out of her tummy with no hospital?”

Well, back then they didn’t have hospitals and doctors like we do today. Her husband Joseph had to help get the baby out.

“How does the baby get out?”

(Matt steps in here)

Matt: “She had to push the baby out of a hole.”

“Her belly button?”

Matt: “No, it’s a special hole near her bottom that God made for babies.”

“How did Joseph get it closed?”

Well, the hole closes by itself.

“How big is it?”

It’s pretty small, but it stretches big enough for the baby to come out, then stretches back small again.

“Does it hurt?”

Yes.

Matt: “Mom had some special medicine when you were born so it didn’t hurt so much.”

“Oh.”

Do you still want to be Mary? (I didn’t really say that).

“Only Mommies have that hole since only they have babies in their tummies?”

Correct.

“Daddies don’t have that hole. They just have penises. Why don’t Daddies have babies in their tummies?”

Well, God knew they couldn’t handle the pain . . . (I didn’t really say that either).

Daddies have other jobs.

Matt: “God gave Moms the job of having babies and taking care of them and feeding them and changing their diapers.”

Me: Daddies do some of that stuff too.

This progressed into a long, drawn out discussion of exactly how the umbilical cord functions and another promise to get a book at the library.

Then, Christmas Eve, we got out a baby doll, wrapped Ethan/Mary up in a blue cloth and did the Nativity again. We’re short on participants in this family, so Matt and I played most of the other parts. Ethan’s stuffed tiger and dog played the sheep (the Giraffe played hisself since apparently there are Giraffes at this stable). We tried to get Elliot to play Joseph, but he primarily wandered around dismantling the stable, setting the sheep free and undressing the baby. At this point Mary began chasing Joseph down and beating him. It was unanimously decided that it was Joseph’s bedtime.

While Matt was putting Elliot to bed, Ethan wanted to do it one more time.

“But who will be Joseph?”

We can wait until Dad is back, or I can be Joseph.

“No, Joseph had to go to a meeting for eight days, so Mary will just take care of the baby herself.”

Eight days huh? Hopefully he'll show up for the circumcision.

Punishment

I once had a stage manager who went around saying “YOU’RE FIRED! And as your punishment, you have to stay.”

As I worried about losing my job and what we’d do about the money, my former boss (the one whom the new VP who fired me was replacing) discovered I was being let go and said he’d look into taking me back to work for him. I wasn’t convinced he could make it work, nor that I necessarily wanted to continue with this company and continued worrying (and re-doing our budget).

I finally came to the conclusion that it was going to be alright and was probably a blessing in disguise. But, that I would consider staying if my former boss came up with an acceptable arrangement. So, since I hadn’t heard from him, I decided to craft my own acceptable arrangement. I made my proposal and it appears I will now continue to be employed--for the time being anyway.

Then of course, I began worrying that I’d made the wrong decision and that perhaps I was just trying to thwart God who had been giving me a wonderful opportunity in disguise. A kind friend then made an outrageous comparison, which, though incomparable in magnitude, is nonetheless valid in principle. She reminded me of Abraham who was asked to sacrifice his only son Isaac. It was only when he had actually fastened Isaac to the altar that God intervened and stopped him. He had passed the test and his son was returned to him. In a much much smaller way, perhaps I needed to lay my employment on the altar, rework our family budget to accommodate it, and commit myself to being a more present and better mother before my job was returned to me. Hopefully now, under the slightly modified arrangement, I can focus on my truly highest priorities . . .

If I’d just stop spending so much time on the computer!

You’re Fired!

I have a degree in Theatre. I’ve worked for a hazardous waste company on and off for about 10 years. Why?

Well, I started as a temp to support my theatre habit. They liked me, they wanted to keep me so they were flexible with me. Over the years as I came and went from location to location and show to show, the one constant it seemed was that they always had work if I wanted it and were always willing to be flexible.

This continued after I married and had my first child (and took and extended leave of absence from the theatre life). I asked if I could work part-time. Sure! When we decided to move halfway across the country I asked if I could work part time from home, in another state. Absolutely! After my second child, and a move the rest of the way across the country, can I work from home in Fairly Land and reduce my hours more? Why not?!

I’ve generally enjoyed the work I do as well. It exercises the left side of my brain. It also utilizes skills outside of sniffing a bum to determine whether a diaper should be changed.

In pushing the limits of their willingness to be flexible, I’ve always known that this blessing of ideal stay-at-home-mom employment could end at any moment. That doesn’t make it much easier when it happens.

We were on vacation last week. We had stopped at a gas station, my kids were complaining, the wind was blowing and it was getting cold. My cell phone rang.

“This is not something we wanted to do over the phone.” But considering I was being fired from the Pacific Coast, it hardly seemed worth a plane ticket.

I was being re-organized out of a job. What? The new VP doesn’t want an assistant she’s never met who works when she wants from 6 states away? Come on!

I am grateful. I’m anxious about the income that will not be replaced. Yet I’m rather excited about the prospects of a) more time with my kids (I’m anxious about that too—I think work has been a bit of an escape), and b) looking into pursuing something that I’m more passionate about. So, as I contemplate just what I could do from home on a part-time basis, and just what fat I can cut from my sparse budget, keep watching. Who knows what I’ll be up to next . . .

Practice Makes Perfect

The other day, I looked up just in time to see Elliot run smack into an open door.

He stopped, readjusted his direction, closed his eyes and kept on walking. At which point he tripped over a large bag of crackers he’d left on the floor.

He opened his eyes, picked up the bag, dumped it out, closed his eyes and proceeded to walk through the pile of crackers.

Apparently he was practicing walking with his eyes closed.

Later I caught him practicing backing up. He sticks out his diapered rear end and carefully walks backwards until he runs into something.

Recently he’s started “beeping” as he does this.

He makes me smile, even as he tracks crackers all over the house.

Happy Stuffmas

I'm sure it's been said before by others (and probably by me as well--just ask my husband) but it seems that America's new religion is Shopping for Stuff. It appears that we have swapped celebrating the birth of our Lord and Savior Jesus Christ with celebrating the Stuff-Shopping Festival which commences with frenzied rituals on Black Friday, proceeds with month long mecca-like treks to Shopping Centers and culminates in frantic last-minute worship of the Almighty Mall of Stuff on December 24th.

And now, one can worship peacefully in the solitude of one's home with Internet Shopping and the holy sacrament of "Free Shipping" for your Stuff.

What exactly are we buying? Why are we buying it? What void are we trying to fill with stuff? I'm not a fanatic opposed to "the man". I'm just a parent concerned about teaching my children (and myself) the value of things that cannot be purchased such as kindness, love, and caring, rather than ipods, video games and cell phones. Our children learn these values by example. They value what we value. They spend their time where we spend our time. They spend their money where we spend ours.

Ask yourself. What do I value? Answer. Where do I spend my time? How do I spend my money?

Where were you this Friday? Where will you be this month? What will our children "get" this Christmas? Toys? and Games? or a better understanding of their divine worth and the joy of feeling love of their Savior and the love of their parents?

Be different. Let us give less this year so that we can give more. Let's stop feeling guilty about the stuff we did or didn't buy, did or didn't "get" and start filling our stuff-void with the love of the Savior and hence a love of each other.

A wise man once said "You will never have enough of what you don't need." Once on the stuff treadmill, there is no end, except in the getting off.

Just a thought for the season. Happy Stuffmas.

Cataclysmic Converter

Today I took the boys "down the mountain" to get my catalytic converter replaced. What is a catalytic converter you might ask (if you were Ethan, you would also want to know what it does and how it does it). I recently found out that a catalytic converter is part of the exhaust system and affects the emissions of your vehicle. I also recently learned a great deal more.

On the way to the dealer, Ethan began questioning: "What needs to be fixed?"

The Catalytic Converter.

"Why?"

It's broken.

"What does a catlic coverder do?"

It takes the smoke that the engine makes when it burns gas and makes it less dangerous to breath before it comes out the exhaust.

"How does it do that?"

I don't know.

"I know you know, so just tell me how!"

I really don't know. Mom doesn't know everything sweetheart, maybe we can stop by the library on the way home and get a book about it.

"Let's go to the library right now!"

We've passed it and we're late for our appointment, so we'll go after.

"TURN AROUND AND GO TO THE LIBRARY NOW!!!!"

Do you want a swat on your bottom?

I digress.

So, we left the car and attempted to walk the boys across the street to play at the playground. We didn't get 10 feet before they began fighting in the stroller. This resulted in time-outs in the parking lot, an embarrassing 45 minute melt-down amidst the new RAV4s and FJ Cruisers, and spankings. It was ugly ladies and gentlemen.

When we finally left with our new catalytic converter, we did indeed stop by the library.

I spent 30 minutes trying to find a book to explain how a catalytic converter works. To no avail.

"Mom please!! You have to find a book about calykit verters!"

So we settled for a book on how cars work that just didn't have enough detail, a manual for building your own car from the adult non-fiction section and a promise to search it out online. So, for anyone who is wondering, here are the basics of the catalytic converter.

So now, if someone could just invent a "cataclysmic converter" that would take a toxic tantrum and reduce it's hazardous effects on the surroundings I'd be very grateful.

Meeting of the Prophets

I try and avoid fast food joints. An occasional exception these days is Chik-fil-a. It took some time to get over the emotional damage caused by the temp job over a decade ago wherein I accosted people at Chik-fil-a franchises and surveyed them.

I decided to allow this exception due to the family-friendliness of the establishment, the decency of the fare and the usual cleanliness of the play area. This deviance allows my children to run and play in the midst of my errand running.

Until Friday however, I had not frequented the Chik-fil-a nearest to Fairyland. I realize that Chik-fil-a attracts many Christians for the same reasons I listed above. What I realized on Friday however is that only in the heart of the Bible Belt can a devout Mormon suddenly feel not quite religious enough.

The restaurant was packed that day with many women in long skirts. My sons were enjoying scampering about on the play area with be a large number of other children--almost exclusively boys--many of whom were sporting T-shirts with Biblical references. Well, time came for the bulk of them to leave and as their various mothers stepped into the play area to call them away, I began to notice a pattern: "Joshua, Aaron, Enoch, time to go!!" and then "Eli, Ben, Abe" . . . At this point I began to write them down just to test my theory. Here is the list--for real, every last one of them was in the restaurant that day: Jacob, Isaac, Enoch, Daniel, Nathan, Aaron, Joshua, Jacob, Eli, Jonathan, Luke, Adam, Ben and Abe.

At this point I was feeling a bit sheepish as I called to my son Elliot. (I considered temporarily calling Elias). In my defense, part of the reason I chose Elliot is that the Hebrew is "My God is the Lord", and Ethan is also in the Bible, but they aint no Enoch (in fairness, I looked Elliot up and it is derived from Elijah, so there).

I certainly have no problem with the idea of naming your children biblical names and giving them something to live up to (though Enoch and Eli are pretty hefty role models), and having grown up in Utah, I know about wearing your religion on your sleeve (maybe that's why I no longer live in Utah). But I tell ya, sometimes in this place, I just feel I don't quite measure up.

I think I'll name my next son "Moses".

"Amidala" for a girl.