Families: Can We Do Better?

The other night I sat down to watch Supernanny, which I secretly call "brainwashing hour." My kids love the show--Logan has described herself as a Supernanny "fan"--and I love that for an hour I get to say things like, "Wow! That is such ugly behaviour! I'm so glad you guys don't act like that. Goodness! No one in that family seems happy. See what happens when we don't have rules?" You get the idea. And my kids are right on board: "He should not be doing that! That is dangerous! He's old enough to know better!" Ahhh...Brainwashing never sounded so sweet.

But I decided I had better preview last week's episode. The premise was that Supernanny would enter a home where the parents were determining to divorce and help the children navigate those rough waters. I thought it would be pretty heavy stuff for my kids to watch. Turns out, it was pretty heavy stuff for me to watch.

Truly, it was like watching a tragedy unfold in front of my eyes. Now, I realize I have no concept of the ins and outs of that particular marriage, but it seemed strange that neither of the adults could convey any sort of concrete reason for divorcing, not to the kids and not to each other. The dad lamely said, "I've just given everything to everyone else for so long, there's nothing left for me." My thought: Does this justify throwing a bomb into your family?

Now, I am not one to say that divorce should never be an option. On the contrary I think that there are circumstances where it is the only option. In cases of abuse, physical or emotional, get yourself out of there. And a mother who stays with a man who abuses her kids is just as liable as the abuser in my opinion. However, that said, I would argue that divorce happens too often and unnecessarily at that.

Watching these two parents on tv trying to explain to their kids how their lives were going to completely change but somehow miraculously "stay the same" was so heart wrenching I had to turn it off. I hope the best for that family; I really do. But even with the best of circumstances in a divorce, it is never the best version of family, at least not for the children.

The best family situation is for kids to live with a mother and father who love them and love each other. Yes, I know that doesn't always happen. I know that situations are complex. But I still have to ask: Is that so impossible? Can't we, the adults, do better?

It reminds me of a conversation I had a few weeks ago while at a kid's birthday party. While the children played, the moms made small talk. I spent a great deal of time talking to a mother of one of Logan's schoolmates whom I don't know all that well, but we seemed to hit it off. Somewhere along the conversation she spoke of her ex-husband, her daughter's father. I don't recall all the specifics of the conversation, but this phrase will not leave me. She said, "If I knew then what I know now we probably would still be together. He's a good man."

I do not think she is alone. I've heard versions of that phrase too many times to think that. What I really think is that maybe we, as a society, have been brainwashed a little ourselves. I think maybe we expect a fairytale when the truth is, marriage is the hardest work we'll ever do--The most rewarding, but the hardest, nonetheless. I think maybe we think if we had married a "soul mate" life would be easier, happier, more romantic, when the truth is there is no "perfect" person out there; no one can "complete" us. I think maybe the grass looks greener on the other side, when the truth is the grass over there is just different and still has issues to face.

I know this is a sensitive topic, but we are fighting for our families. There is nothing more important. It's worthy of great thought and great discussion.

Logan Turns 7!

Fall is party time here at the Tea Party Place. Most of our birthdays are lumped together along with Halloween, Thanksgiving, and Christmas! What a whirlwind. But if we know anything around here it is how to have a good time! Last Thursday was Logan's big day. Since it was a school night we kept it low key, but she certainly enjoyed opening presents from Grandma Peterson, Grandma and Grandpa Wicke, and Griffin.

Friday night we turned up the volume a little bit. What she really wanted from Mommy and Daddy was a trip to Build-a-Bear. It was our first time going, and I think her excitement it pretty easy to read! After much consideration, she found her perfect playmate: A bunny she named Lolly (or Lucy, depending on the day.)

The perfect outfit!

After we finished up at Build-A-Bear it was off to Peter Piper Pizza, Logan's choice for dinner. We had two very happy kids, and isn't that what birthday's are all about?

Next on the birthday agenda: A "dog party" for Logan and her friends this Friday. You don't know what that means? Neither did I, but that's what she wanted, so here goes! Get creative, Mama!

Belly Shot

Introducing: My Belly!

Here is the shot Megan and Lisa Marie requested. I thought barefoot, pregnant, and in the kitchen just about covered all the stereotypes. :0)

As I look at that picture, I can't help but think that the belly would look bigger if the breasts were not increasing in equal proportion. But alas, that is not to be. Maybe I should stop obsessing about it, but that probably is not to be either.

Have a great Monday!

Wisdom from the Wise Old Owl

Grandma and Grandpa Doty with their 5 children. (My mother is the ever-so-cute blond on the right.)

Grandma and her eldest son outside their first house in the oil fields of McFadden, WY.

Grandma and Grandpa's original house in Byron, WY. They lived there for 6 years until Grandpa finished the "big" house 1938.

Grandma and friends knitting.

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I have always admired my Grandma Doty. She knew how to do just about everything it seemed to me. But then again she had to. She raised a family of 5 during the depression, and despite a hardworking husband, they didn't have much unless they provided it themselves. She had chickens, a cow, and a garden. Most of what they ate was provided by the sweat of their own brows. Grandma made bread, butter, jams, jellies, and fruit leather. She canned and dried fruits and vegetables. She knew how to sew, and made almost all of her children's clothing. She quilted, tatted, crocheted, and knitted.

Nothing went to waste at grandma's house. She saved everything--including rainwater. I remember the big wooden barrel outside her door, waiting to capture every drop the spring storms deposited. She swore that using rainwater for a shampoo made for the softest and silkiest hair.

"Waste not, want not" was her mantra and one that she took seriously. Her grandchildren were instructed to "eat the apples off of the ground first!" but most of us snuck a few of the bright, crisp green apples from the tree anyway. And oh, how good those apples were.

One of our favorite treats was the dried apples she would make. Miraculously her stock was never low even though most of us would eat ourselves sick on nearly every visit despite her warnings of possible stomachaches. They were such a favorite that we looked forward to their addition to our Christmas stockings even into our adulthood.

As Grandma got older, her resources dwindling and her progeny growing ever greater, she began to give gifts of the heart rather than the wallet. One year she wrote us this:

"It has been suggested that I give advice...on what? And why? Because I am old and supposed to be wise about a number of things as the wise old owl?...Well, I am not that "wise old owl"...all wise, but I will give a few ideas that I have learned over the years, and I hope it will be of benefit to someone.

"I have always enjoyed teaching, whether in a class or in the home. What I have learned and the knowledge I have gained I have always wanted to share with others. Have I done that? If the student has not learned, then I, the teacher have failed. I have taught sewing, knitting, crocheting, tatting and quilting. I know some who have gained and are using these skills, but have I taught the gospel? I have tried...Let me go over the steps to gain the knowledge of the Gospel of Jesus Christ.

1. I suggest prayer. This is the first step in learning of our Father in Heaven.

2. Read the scriptures daily. Many problems can be solved through this habit.

3. Live the commandments and you will know for yourself the truth of each principle you live."

She was and continues to be a grand example of faith, and her faithful life was part of the bedrock of my personal relationship with God. Of all that I gained from her, I consider that her greatest contribution, and I think it is the thing that would please her most as well. She wanted each of us to live well, and that meant living right. None of us had any doubt about her opinions. She was not shy about about sharing her perspective, but I must admit, some of the best advice I've ever gotten was from her. Here are some of the things she told me that I remember most:

From my teenage years: "If you find your toes being stepped on a lot, you might want to pull them in."

From my early marriage: "Make your words soft and sweet. You never know when you'll have to eat them."

Regarding parenting: "Teaching begins with the baby. Of course, the baby teaches us, too. The most important thing, I think, in training children is to stick to the things you say. Never say a no or yes unless it is followed up on. Once you make a decision follow through and hold to it. You can never go wrong by giving a youngster lots of love and kisses mixed with discipline. Child training is merely knowing which end of your child to pat...and when."

Clearly my Grandmother was not a romantic or a dreamer. No, she would best be described as pragmatic, a realist and do-er by nature and by way of life, but those qualities served her well. She did not merely survive; she triumphed. Living to the ripe age of 102, she was a source of inspiration to four generations of children. There was nothing weak about Grandma Doty, and I find it amazing that I continue to draw from her well of strength though she has been gone these last seven years.

When things get a little tough, I consider the events of her life and get to work. She was fond of saying, "You kids get married and think you have to have everything right away! What you don't realize is that it took your parents years and years to get what they've got." When my wants get ahead of my needs, I hear her voice in my head. When money is a little tight, I think of her ingenuity and find a way to make do and make it better with a little bit of elbow grease. She taught me that there is nothing I can't learn to do if I'm willing to put forth the effort.

And so last Thursday, I learned to can. Well, make that re-learn. I canned with my mother when I was a girl, but somewhere around 1981 my mom lost that Mormon mojo. (Mormons and canning is a another post altogether.) So when I found out my friend Angie (who may need professional help with her aversion to having her picture taken) was canning apples, I invited myself over, and look what we Mollies accomplished:

Final total: 48 quarts of apples

I even pulled out my dehydrator and dried apples (most of which I have eaten single handily. And for the record, I did give myself a stomachache one night.)

On Monday, I tried to finish off the 2 ginormous boxes of apples by canning apple pie filling. Final total: 11 quarts, 1 very messy house, and 1 tired mama. Can you read my eyes in that photo? I think they are saying, "When will the project ever be finished?"

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Despite the mess and the exhaustion, it was a wonderful experience to be reminded of the amazing women who came before me, who blessed me with their sacrifice, experience, and knowledge. I hope I have inherited some of their magic, and I hope, one day, to be worthy of them. Thank you, Grandma, and until I see you again, I will strive to make you proud.

Stitched Together

Going to Grandma Doty's house always meant I would get to do a project of some kind. She taught me to paint fabric, cross stitch, and quilt. As a tiny child I remember crawling under the quilting frame that seemed eternally to be set up in her living room and listening to the chatter of Grandma and her friends, watching the quilting needles duck in and out of the tight fabric making neat, tiny stitches.

When I was a teenager I asked Grandma to help me make a quilt of my own. From one of her overflowing back closets, Grandma pulled already pieced blocks of outrageously bright fabric scraps that became the basis of my first "crazy quilt." She taught me to place them in a pattern, sew the rows together, and then the quilting began. I have sweet memories of sitting at that quilt, my Grandmother and I. This time I was part of the chatter, and I steered the conversation to Grandma's past watching the pattern of her life story emerge.

She told me of her childhood: Her family's early settling of the Big Horn Basin, complete with flies, dirt, cabins, and lean-tos; cutting the ice from the river to cross to and from school; how Great-Grandpa hauled good from Montana to Wyoming by frieght team and about his amazing ability with horses. She recounted a long childhood trip in a Model-T to California so that she could be cured by a doctor of her severe stuttering, which she was. I learned the details of how Great Grandpa traded a team and plow for her piano on which she learned to play, and how that piano-building man from Chicago gave up his newly built homestead when his wife refused to join him in Wyoming.

She recounted her year at the state university, where she met Grandpa, the details of their early romance, and how he got on the train to see her off only to stay on through a number of stops before disembarking and buying another ticket home; how her father refused to let her return to Laramie for fear that it would look like she was "chasing" grandpa, insisting instead that the next year she attend BYU. She recalled the long exchange of letters before the eventual proposal. I discovered her passion for teaching and the details of her few years as a young elementary teacher. I heard of her worries and hardships as a mother: How her oldest child suffered from diabetes and the strict diet she monitored; how she would cut cardboard soles to put inside the children's shoes to make them wear the rest of the year; the simple Christmas gifts she would create for them.

The completed quilt would not win any awards. Many of my stitches were clumsy and its brash color scheme does not make for a showpiece, but I treasure it nonetheless. To me it is a symbol of the sweetest time she and I spent together, the time when I came to really know my grandmother. And that experience is quilted on my heart.

Call Her Jack

Over the last few days I have been trying to channel the fantastic woman on the left. When she worked with her brothers on the farm, she'd wear pants even though it horrified her father. In this get up she would call herself Jack.

On the back of this original photo she wrote, "Vida Bishoff (a girl Frank [her brother] escorted to the mts) and myself, but better named Jack. Oh, my. Don't Jack look honery."

Is it a wonder that I like her spirit? I should. She's my Grandma, Rose Ellen Griffin Doty, and I hope I've inherited some of her magic. I hope, but I'll tell you what: Trying to be like her is wearing me out!

To be continued...

Logan's Logic

This Saturday, as we left the soccor fields, Griffin was slow to get his seat belt on.

"You know, Griff, I would think you would listen the first time we asked you to put your seat belt on considering what happened this week," his daddy scolded.

"Yeah," Logan chimed in, "Mommy got a ticket because you didn't listen..." and then she launched into a long winded reprimand about obeying the law. Mr. Wicke and I stopped listening, happy enough to let someone else give the lecture on "listening and obeying" for once, but then this little phrase, said in her most serious teaching voice, caught our ear:

"...for example, if you killed somebody you would have to go to jail because nobody likes dead people."

Hmmm...On second thought maybe Mr. Wicke and I should be in charge of those lectures for a little while longer, that is if we can stop laughing long enough to speak.