Today I told my kids to pick up the duplos (we have two big bins full, and yes we use them all), and they asked why. So I said, "I can't live like this anymore!" (Nobody got the Frozen reference, because if they had they would have said, "Then leave!".) They said, "Sure you can." I explained that all day I had been feeling like I was going to fall or step on something because their stuff was everywhere. They still didn't care. Then Ann Marie threw up on the one open space (thankfully), so I changed my tactic to, "If you don't pick up your toys Ann Marie will probably throw up again and it will get on your toys." That kind of worked, or at least it gave them enough motivation to pick up the duplos and a few other things. Maybe we can finish the job tomorrow. #mykidsplayhard
Yes, I could pick up after my kids, but 1) I don't want to hurt my back again, which could happen if I bend over too much and 2) I don't think it's right for me to have to pick up after them. It's not fair to me and it's not doing them any favors in the long run either. And even though it's still a huge pain to get them to clean up, I have to say I think it's better than it used to be.
I'm trying to decide if I should be super strict or just accept that this is going to be my reality this summer. The truth is that while I hate the mess, it's a byproduct of having really creative kids who love to play together, and that's something to be grateful for.
Also, wrt my back, today I was able to do a good exercise workout for the first time in two and a half weeks. It felt great. I'm so proud of myself for exercising consistently for nearly three years. I've been trying ever since high school, but life would get in the way and I would fall off the bandwagon after a while. Soon after Ann Marie was born we had some family pictures taken, and I didn't recognize myself because there was so much added weight in my face. I'm all about loving yourself at any size, but seeing that picture really motivated me to make some changes. I got a membership at the Y and tried to go three times a week. I didn't always meet that goal, but if I had a bad week I still went the next week. Since last fall I've been doing workout videos because it was easier to fit them into my schedule and it worked better with our car situation.
Story time. When I was in high school I decided that I was not going to do another semester of Lifetime Sports, which I hated, so I switched my schedule so I could take Fitness. At the time it was mostly used as a time for the jocks to get their weightlifting in. On the first day Mr. Arossa actually sent the rest of the class ahead into the weight room to get started so he could talk to me and make sure I hadn't somehow mistakenly signed up for the class (because non-jocks never signed up for this class), which actually made me more determined to stick with the class. I did stick with it and much preferred it to Lifetime Sports, and by the way, Mr. Arossa had also been my dad's teacher and really liked my dad, so he was predisposed to like me and we got along nicely. Also, I think there was an increase in non-jocks signing up for Fitness after that, and they even started a Women's Fitness class. I wouldn't know if it was my influence, but I think it was a positive change. Not everybody likes sports, but I think almost anybody can find a type of exercise that works for them.
I just think it would be interesting if my PE teachers could see me now. I'm still not athletic or strong by any means, but I'm consistent and I enjoy my exercise.
On a different topic, did I mention that poison ivy is awful? Two weeks later I still have rashes on my legs and arms. I've single-handedly used up an entire tube of anti-itch cream and I'm starting my second. Oh, and I noticed over the weekend that there's more poison ivy poking up. Ryan and I have decided that if somebody could genetically engineer a pest that would only devour poison ivy they would probably get the Nobel Prize.
Tuesday, May 30, 2017
Thursday, May 18, 2017
How to Make Friends by Jody Moore
Lately I've been enjoying listening to a podcast called Bold New Mom. Yesterday I discovered a podcast she gave about making friends. Here is the link: https://boldnewmom.com/50-how-to-make-friends/. She starts talking about making friends at about Minute 8.
Here are a few great things that I learned from this podcast:
Being interested in other people feels good. Being curious about others makes you more interesting. But you need to be genuinely curious, not just pretend to be curious so people will think you're interesting. You'll enjoy yourself much more if you direct your thoughts in this direction instead of wondering what people think of you.
You have control over your thoughts. Be aware of your thoughts. If you have a thought that isn't healthy (i.e. They don't like me, that thing I said was stupid) you can learn to push those thoughts away and replace them. Or you can explore those thoughts and figure out why you think them and why they are unhealthy or illogical.
"What other people think of you is none of your business. You actually can't read their minds." So don't use your energy worrying about what others think of you. Instead refocus your thoughts to being curious about them.
It's not healthy to need everyone to like you. It's normal to want people to like you, and it feels good when people like you. But you want to be in a place where you don't depend on people liking you. (Most of the time people probably do like you, though.)
You can like whoever you want. That's the goal--for you to like others, not to make them like you (which is not in your control), and not to compare. It's fun to observe people and try to like them.
"Friendship is a thought." If we believe that someone is a friend, then we'll act like a friend around them.
Here are a few great things that I learned from this podcast:
Being interested in other people feels good. Being curious about others makes you more interesting. But you need to be genuinely curious, not just pretend to be curious so people will think you're interesting. You'll enjoy yourself much more if you direct your thoughts in this direction instead of wondering what people think of you.
You have control over your thoughts. Be aware of your thoughts. If you have a thought that isn't healthy (i.e. They don't like me, that thing I said was stupid) you can learn to push those thoughts away and replace them. Or you can explore those thoughts and figure out why you think them and why they are unhealthy or illogical.
"What other people think of you is none of your business. You actually can't read their minds." So don't use your energy worrying about what others think of you. Instead refocus your thoughts to being curious about them.
It's not healthy to need everyone to like you. It's normal to want people to like you, and it feels good when people like you. But you want to be in a place where you don't depend on people liking you. (Most of the time people probably do like you, though.)
You can like whoever you want. That's the goal--for you to like others, not to make them like you (which is not in your control), and not to compare. It's fun to observe people and try to like them.
"Friendship is a thought." If we believe that someone is a friend, then we'll act like a friend around them.
Sunday, May 14, 2017
Mother's Day Musings
Being a mom is crazy sometimes. So often my kids do things that are completely unexpected and unbelievable. And sometimes they get you into weird predicaments that you're not sure how to handle.
The back of the picture says this was in April 1990. I had just gotten into the flour bin. I'm sure it was a huge mess (flour is a pain to clean up), and based on the date my mom was also pregnant with Melissa at the time. Apparently she took time to laugh about it and take a picture, though.
One of my earliest memories happened when I was maybe three years old. I waited until my mom wasn't looking, then I found a bottle of Head and Shoulders, hid under the piano, and proceeded to squeeze an obscene amount of shampoo onto my head. The carpet still retained the smell and a slightly soapy texture when we moved when I was eighteen. Of course it trickled down into my eyes, and if you've ever gotten Head and Shoulders in your eyes you know that it's an especially evil kind of pain.
So my mom was left in a big predicament because my dad wasn't home and she had Baby Melissa to take care of and I had shampoo all over my face and hair. Fortunately, a neighbor (Jerine Smith) was able to come over to take care of Melissa so Mom could deal with me. She ended up giving me a shower, and I'm sure I cried and struggled a lot, but afterwards I think I bragged that I had had my first shower and I was only three years old.
Moms deal with this kind of stuff all the time. It seems like when one kid dropped a jar and is surrounded by glass shards, another one is having an accident and another one is eating a roll of toilet paper.
It's easy to get caught up in the frustrations. But for us that's not actually what this is all about. We're committed to our children because we have a goal in mind. We're not just cleaning up messes and trying to keep the children alive until they're adults.
In the midst of all the crazy stuff, what we really want is to see our children become people of character. We want them to be kind. We want to be with them in the temple. We want them to be in our eternal family. Deep down we see what's special in them even though they can be so challenging.
It's hard to treasure every moment. Sometimes the weight of everything is just really hard. But I try to treasure the special moments. I'm not great at it, but I'm trying. When Heidi is telling me something important to her and she gets a sparkle in her eyes, I stare into her eyes and try to save a copy of that image in my memory. When Kevin asks questions about the important stuff, I've learned to drop what I'm doing and take advantage of those teaching moments. When Ann Marie wants to help put the dishes in the dishwasher I let her sometimes, even though she does it wrong. It feels like the everyday things like breaking up fights, washing the dishes again, and cleaning up the messes take up so much of the time, but really those good moments--teaching, listening, working together--are the ones that are quietly making the difference.
Saturday, May 13, 2017
What next? How about hives?
The doctor gave me three prescriptions to help with my back pain. One was for muscle spasms and the other two were anti-inflammatory/to help with the pain, and of the two anti-inflammatory medicines one of them (meloxicam) has 11 refills, so in theory I could take that one for a year (but if I need for a year then I have a bigger problem than a strained muscle). I talked it over with Ryan and decided that getting all three prescriptions was overkill, so I just got the meloxicam and wasn't planning to refill the prescription.
I don't really feel like the meloxicam helps much. I've been taking it before going to bed at night and I don't really notice any difference. The main things that help are good posture and not staying in any position for two long. I also can't take any other NSAIDs while I'm taking meloxicam, so no ibuprofen or Tylenol.
So anyway, interesting development: I'm getting hives on my arms and shins. Unfortunately, I will probably never know for sure if this is an allergic reaction to the meloxicam because it could also be poison ivy. Earlier this week I was clearing out an area in our yard that had some poison ivy in it. I'm inclined to think it's the medicine because I have a patch of hives on my underarm up near my sleeve line and on my chin (where I'm pretty sure I wouldn't have touched a poison ivy root), and I'm also pretty sure that I couldn't have brushed up against enough poison ivy to make this many hives, but I won't know for sure unless I start getting hives on my torso. (I know, it was stupid to be doing yard work there without wearing long sleeves, but it's hot in Georgia and I took a risk.)
I guess I could keep taking the meloxicam to see if I keep reacting, but that would be kind of a dumb idea, plus I don't see any reason to take it when I'm not seeing much benefit from it. We really need to get established with a family doctor so we can have someone to call about stuff like this.
My back is gradually improving. By the end of the day today I was able to walk around fairly normally. I'm sure it will hurt again tomorrow morning after not moving much during the night, but I'm fairly hopeful that I will heal well.
The doctor told me that I need to be careful about leaning forward to do things. If I can I'm supposed to stand up straight to pick things up instead of bending over. It seemed reasonable at the time, but here are things I "can't" do:
I don't really feel like the meloxicam helps much. I've been taking it before going to bed at night and I don't really notice any difference. The main things that help are good posture and not staying in any position for two long. I also can't take any other NSAIDs while I'm taking meloxicam, so no ibuprofen or Tylenol.
So anyway, interesting development: I'm getting hives on my arms and shins. Unfortunately, I will probably never know for sure if this is an allergic reaction to the meloxicam because it could also be poison ivy. Earlier this week I was clearing out an area in our yard that had some poison ivy in it. I'm inclined to think it's the medicine because I have a patch of hives on my underarm up near my sleeve line and on my chin (where I'm pretty sure I wouldn't have touched a poison ivy root), and I'm also pretty sure that I couldn't have brushed up against enough poison ivy to make this many hives, but I won't know for sure unless I start getting hives on my torso. (I know, it was stupid to be doing yard work there without wearing long sleeves, but it's hot in Georgia and I took a risk.)
I guess I could keep taking the meloxicam to see if I keep reacting, but that would be kind of a dumb idea, plus I don't see any reason to take it when I'm not seeing much benefit from it. We really need to get established with a family doctor so we can have someone to call about stuff like this.
My back is gradually improving. By the end of the day today I was able to walk around fairly normally. I'm sure it will hurt again tomorrow morning after not moving much during the night, but I'm fairly hopeful that I will heal well.
The doctor told me that I need to be careful about leaning forward to do things. If I can I'm supposed to stand up straight to pick things up instead of bending over. It seemed reasonable at the time, but here are things I "can't" do:
- move clothes from the washer to the dryer
- change a diaper
- pick up Ann Marie
- pick up a clothes basket
- load the dishwasher
- put dishes away in low cupboards and drawers
- pick up toys or toy bins
- take out the trash
- weed the garden
- push a stroller
- use a dust pan (sweeping works)
- vacuum
- shave my legs
- clip my toenails
- drive a car
- lean over to spit out toothpaste
- put pants on
Some of these will probably be doable in a few days if I keep healing at this rate, but I should probably be careful for at least a few weeks so I don't get hurt again.
The kids have been fairly understanding and helpful. They cleaned their rooms today and mostly picked up the mess in the living room. They've been pretty good about picking things up for me so I don't have to bend down.
Thursday, May 11, 2017
Just what I need . . .
Last night I did one of my favorite workout videos. (I've been exercising 3-4 times a week pretty consistently since last fall when I started doing workout videos, and it's made a difference.) I did my cool down stretching and sat down to veg on the internet for a minute before getting in the shower. Ryan was in the kitchen and realized that we were out of milk, so he offered to go to the store. Ann Marie had fallen asleep on the couch before dinner, so I said I would get her ready for bed.
While I was changing her diaper I noticed my lower back was a little sore. Ann Marie refused to eat any dinner and insisted she just wanted to go to bed, so I carried her to her room half-asleep.
Then when I bent over to set her down my back suddenly hurt really badly and I ended up dropping her (she was okay and just went to sleep). That was odd. I decided to try and get in the shower, which reminded me the whites were still in the washing machine, so I went to take care of that first. After bending down a few times to get handfuls of clothes, I stood up and the muscles in my lower back had a really painful spasm, and it was clear that I wasn't going to be able to finish, and the shower wasn't happening either. In fact, it was as much as I could do to get some ibuprofen and somehow get myself into bed.
I've given birth without pain medication three times and this pain was worse. I could barely walk, bending at the hips at all was excruciating, and it felt like I had no strength in my muscles. So obviously I was pretty concerned.
Ryan got home and I told him what was going on, but even with his help I couldn't really find a specific spot that felt sore to the touch.
Around 5:00 in the morning I got up to use the bathroom and take more ibuprofen, and standing at the sink trying to get the pill bottle opened I got so dizzy with the pain I thought I was going to pass out. So I called Ryan for help and somehow got myself down on the floor. In a minute I was better again, and with Ryan's help I was able to get some more ibuprofen and get back to bed. I googled my symptoms and was thinking I had probably strained the muscles in my lower back or hips, and I figured we were going to need to go to the doctor in the morning.
I wasn't sure if this was an urgent care situation or an emergency room situation, and I don't want to go to the emergency room when an urgent care will work, but finally we decided we'd try urgent care. Ryan got the kids off to school, and I found a friend to take Ann Marie while he took me to urgent care. I was super disappointed because I had been planning to meet some friends at the park.
The doctor asked a bunch of questions and had me move different ways. At one point she asked me to lift up my legs one at a time and couldn't understand why I couldn't lift them up higher. "Why are you not flexible?" she asked. Well, because I'm not! I do stretches and things, but I've just never been able to touch my toes (I can get pretty close now if I've been exercising). Anyway, she decided it would be a good idea to do an x-ray and make sure I didn't have scoliosis. My spine looked fine in the x-rays, so that was a relief. It looks like I was right and it was a muscle strain. So they gave me some pain/anti-inflammatory/muscle spasm prescriptions and I'm supposed to rest and be careful about lifting (because of course I never have to do things like bend over to pick up my 34-pound child . . .)
I've been getting better over the course of the day. Certain movements still hurt a lot, but I can at least do them now and I can walk around slowly. The pain isn't constant; I just feel it doing certain movements where I need my back muscles (and by the way, you use your lower back muscles a lot, in case you haven't noticed). So hopefully over the next few days the muscles will be feeling better. I'll have to take it easy for a while. The hardest part is when I'm rolling over and when I'm standing up, but at least the muscles are doing what I tell them to again.
I don't like needing help. I like being able to do a lot of things and get stuff done without help, even if I'm having a hard time. It's really inconvenient that I can't do stuff. Ryan's got the kids helping with dinner right now. Hopefully they'll be good and help me out. I guess I'm grateful that they're big enough to be pretty independent and kind of helpful (because lifting and carrying a baby around right now wouldn't really work).
The silver lining in all this is that I found out I've lost five pounds since February. My secret is smaller portion sizes, more vegetables, and exercise, if you're wondering. And I didn't give up ice cream. I'm finally back to what I weighed before I was pregnant with Heidi. But of course I could have found that out by borrowing someone's bathroom scale rather than hurting my back.
While I was changing her diaper I noticed my lower back was a little sore. Ann Marie refused to eat any dinner and insisted she just wanted to go to bed, so I carried her to her room half-asleep.
Then when I bent over to set her down my back suddenly hurt really badly and I ended up dropping her (she was okay and just went to sleep). That was odd. I decided to try and get in the shower, which reminded me the whites were still in the washing machine, so I went to take care of that first. After bending down a few times to get handfuls of clothes, I stood up and the muscles in my lower back had a really painful spasm, and it was clear that I wasn't going to be able to finish, and the shower wasn't happening either. In fact, it was as much as I could do to get some ibuprofen and somehow get myself into bed.
I've given birth without pain medication three times and this pain was worse. I could barely walk, bending at the hips at all was excruciating, and it felt like I had no strength in my muscles. So obviously I was pretty concerned.
Ryan got home and I told him what was going on, but even with his help I couldn't really find a specific spot that felt sore to the touch.
Around 5:00 in the morning I got up to use the bathroom and take more ibuprofen, and standing at the sink trying to get the pill bottle opened I got so dizzy with the pain I thought I was going to pass out. So I called Ryan for help and somehow got myself down on the floor. In a minute I was better again, and with Ryan's help I was able to get some more ibuprofen and get back to bed. I googled my symptoms and was thinking I had probably strained the muscles in my lower back or hips, and I figured we were going to need to go to the doctor in the morning.
I wasn't sure if this was an urgent care situation or an emergency room situation, and I don't want to go to the emergency room when an urgent care will work, but finally we decided we'd try urgent care. Ryan got the kids off to school, and I found a friend to take Ann Marie while he took me to urgent care. I was super disappointed because I had been planning to meet some friends at the park.
The doctor asked a bunch of questions and had me move different ways. At one point she asked me to lift up my legs one at a time and couldn't understand why I couldn't lift them up higher. "Why are you not flexible?" she asked. Well, because I'm not! I do stretches and things, but I've just never been able to touch my toes (I can get pretty close now if I've been exercising). Anyway, she decided it would be a good idea to do an x-ray and make sure I didn't have scoliosis. My spine looked fine in the x-rays, so that was a relief. It looks like I was right and it was a muscle strain. So they gave me some pain/anti-inflammatory/muscle spasm prescriptions and I'm supposed to rest and be careful about lifting (because of course I never have to do things like bend over to pick up my 34-pound child . . .)
I've been getting better over the course of the day. Certain movements still hurt a lot, but I can at least do them now and I can walk around slowly. The pain isn't constant; I just feel it doing certain movements where I need my back muscles (and by the way, you use your lower back muscles a lot, in case you haven't noticed). So hopefully over the next few days the muscles will be feeling better. I'll have to take it easy for a while. The hardest part is when I'm rolling over and when I'm standing up, but at least the muscles are doing what I tell them to again.
I don't like needing help. I like being able to do a lot of things and get stuff done without help, even if I'm having a hard time. It's really inconvenient that I can't do stuff. Ryan's got the kids helping with dinner right now. Hopefully they'll be good and help me out. I guess I'm grateful that they're big enough to be pretty independent and kind of helpful (because lifting and carrying a baby around right now wouldn't really work).
The silver lining in all this is that I found out I've lost five pounds since February. My secret is smaller portion sizes, more vegetables, and exercise, if you're wondering. And I didn't give up ice cream. I'm finally back to what I weighed before I was pregnant with Heidi. But of course I could have found that out by borrowing someone's bathroom scale rather than hurting my back.
Tuesday, May 9, 2017
Phebe Woodruff
Recently I've been reading the book A House Full of Females: Plural Marriage and Women's Rights in Early Mormonism, 1835-1870. Much of the first few chapters in the book are about Phebe Woodruff, wife of Wilford Woodruff.
The Woodruffs didn't experience the Kirtland and Missouri years like most of the rest of the church did. When they came to Kirtland (separately--they met in Kirtland) they were the only members of their families who had accepted the gospel and had left everything because they felt that it was important to join the Saints in Zion. Soon after their marriage, Wilford Woodruff was called to be a missionary in the northeastern United States. Phebe went with him (sort of--sometimes he walked while she went by stage, and he took a few detours to teach in various places). During his mission, Wilford Woodruff was able to baptize several members of his family and they also visited Phebe's family in Maine. During the mission, Phebe gave birth to their first child, Sarah Emma.
By the time they rejoined the Saints, the people had been driven out of Kirtland, Ohio, and Missouri and the majority had moved to Illinois. Wilford and Phebe Woodruff joined them in Illinois, and almost immediately Wilford was ordained a member of the Quorum of the Twelve Apostles and sent on a mission to England. He left despite being very ill with malaria, and Phebe also had malaria and didn't recover for a couple of months.
This was a very difficult time for Phebe, and I felt that even though I haven't suffered temporally the way that she did, I could really relate to her because she was in a new place without the support of family. She was extremely sick, she was pregnant again, her living conditions were not good (nobody's were, which is partly why everyone had malaria), she had no family there, and she had no husband to give her the financial and emotional support she needed. Despite this, in her letters she told her husband how much she missed him but always insisted that she wanted him to complete his mission.
As if things couldn't get worse, one afternoon her daughter Sarah Emma suddenly died. Medical care and priesthood blessings were not enough to save her. Phebe was filled with grief, and although there were a few neighbors who gave her some support, she really didn't have the support that she needed. Having been there about a year, she probably hadn't developed many close relationships with other women, and when you're grieving over a child I don't there are many people who can take the place of a husband, mother, or sister. To make things worse, months after she had written to Wilford informing him of their daughter's death, he apparently still hadn't received the news because he sent her a letter cheerfully telling her to give lots of kisses to Sarah Emma. Phebe was left to mourn the loss of her little daughter, take care of her new baby boy, and somehow keep herself and the baby alive despite having barely adequate housing and some livestock. (Some neighbors had been upset that she was asking for help instead of selling her clothes and animals!) And she didn't even have the comfort of knowing that her husband was also grieving with her even though he was an ocean away.
Having lived across the country from our families for most of our marriage I feel that to some extent I can relate to Phebe. In North Carolina I had a few wonderful friends who really helped me out (and I'm not sure Phebe even had that), and I'm sure in time I will develop similar friendships here, but it's such a comfort to have a mom or a sister there when times get hard.
Fortunately, Phebe's family had read in the newspapers about the struggles the Saints were having, and they decided they weren't going to let Phebe live in these conditions, so her brothers came to Illinois and brought her back to Maine, where she stayed until Wilford Woodruff returned from his mission. It must have been such a comfort to her to be with her parents during this difficult time.
I have to say how much I admire her for encouraging her husband to fulfill his mission despite her suffering. He had some incredible experiences in England and was very instrumental in converting many people to the Gospel of Jesus Christ. It's a testament to her faith in the restored gospel that she suffered and grieved without him so that more people could enjoy and learn about the blessings of the gospel as she had. Surely during this time she relied on her faith in Jesus Christ to endure through the challenges and get the comfort that she needed. I look forward to learning more about her role in the Relief Society as I continue to read this book.
The Woodruffs didn't experience the Kirtland and Missouri years like most of the rest of the church did. When they came to Kirtland (separately--they met in Kirtland) they were the only members of their families who had accepted the gospel and had left everything because they felt that it was important to join the Saints in Zion. Soon after their marriage, Wilford Woodruff was called to be a missionary in the northeastern United States. Phebe went with him (sort of--sometimes he walked while she went by stage, and he took a few detours to teach in various places). During his mission, Wilford Woodruff was able to baptize several members of his family and they also visited Phebe's family in Maine. During the mission, Phebe gave birth to their first child, Sarah Emma.
By the time they rejoined the Saints, the people had been driven out of Kirtland, Ohio, and Missouri and the majority had moved to Illinois. Wilford and Phebe Woodruff joined them in Illinois, and almost immediately Wilford was ordained a member of the Quorum of the Twelve Apostles and sent on a mission to England. He left despite being very ill with malaria, and Phebe also had malaria and didn't recover for a couple of months.
This was a very difficult time for Phebe, and I felt that even though I haven't suffered temporally the way that she did, I could really relate to her because she was in a new place without the support of family. She was extremely sick, she was pregnant again, her living conditions were not good (nobody's were, which is partly why everyone had malaria), she had no family there, and she had no husband to give her the financial and emotional support she needed. Despite this, in her letters she told her husband how much she missed him but always insisted that she wanted him to complete his mission.
As if things couldn't get worse, one afternoon her daughter Sarah Emma suddenly died. Medical care and priesthood blessings were not enough to save her. Phebe was filled with grief, and although there were a few neighbors who gave her some support, she really didn't have the support that she needed. Having been there about a year, she probably hadn't developed many close relationships with other women, and when you're grieving over a child I don't there are many people who can take the place of a husband, mother, or sister. To make things worse, months after she had written to Wilford informing him of their daughter's death, he apparently still hadn't received the news because he sent her a letter cheerfully telling her to give lots of kisses to Sarah Emma. Phebe was left to mourn the loss of her little daughter, take care of her new baby boy, and somehow keep herself and the baby alive despite having barely adequate housing and some livestock. (Some neighbors had been upset that she was asking for help instead of selling her clothes and animals!) And she didn't even have the comfort of knowing that her husband was also grieving with her even though he was an ocean away.
Having lived across the country from our families for most of our marriage I feel that to some extent I can relate to Phebe. In North Carolina I had a few wonderful friends who really helped me out (and I'm not sure Phebe even had that), and I'm sure in time I will develop similar friendships here, but it's such a comfort to have a mom or a sister there when times get hard.
Fortunately, Phebe's family had read in the newspapers about the struggles the Saints were having, and they decided they weren't going to let Phebe live in these conditions, so her brothers came to Illinois and brought her back to Maine, where she stayed until Wilford Woodruff returned from his mission. It must have been such a comfort to her to be with her parents during this difficult time.
I have to say how much I admire her for encouraging her husband to fulfill his mission despite her suffering. He had some incredible experiences in England and was very instrumental in converting many people to the Gospel of Jesus Christ. It's a testament to her faith in the restored gospel that she suffered and grieved without him so that more people could enjoy and learn about the blessings of the gospel as she had. Surely during this time she relied on her faith in Jesus Christ to endure through the challenges and get the comfort that she needed. I look forward to learning more about her role in the Relief Society as I continue to read this book.
Tuesday, May 2, 2017
Ramblings about School Lunch
So it sounds like Trump is trying to roll back some of the regulations on school lunch guidelines, and at the moment I'm not going to comment on whether that's a good choice or not. I do, however, want to comment about the argument people are making about how because of Michelle Obama kids are getting food that they refuse to eat because they don't like it, and so all that food is just being thrown away. I vividly remember what school lunch was like when I was growing up, and food was thrown away then too. My tray consistently had limp green-ish brown things that might have been beans, gray hamburgers with "ketchup", tater tots that were hollow because they'd been fried in so much fat, hot dogs that tasted odd, and dry-looking sawdust that I was told was taco meat. I learned that if the menu said "pizza" they meant bread with hamburger and cheese on top, but if the menu said "barchedda" or "galaxy pizza" it generally was pizza. In first grade we were given strange brown-ish red blobs (possibly sugarplums) that we didn't dare touch. I threw away an obscene amount of food that I didn't like. I'm ashamed of how much food I threw away. I remember carefully watching Mrs. Mac because I knew if she saw me approaching the trash cans without having eaten my food she would make me go back and eat it. It was better in high school when we had a salad bar every day. That's why my kids take a cold lunch to school every day (aside from the fact that over $2 per meal for my kids' lunch is not in the budget). It's what I should have done myself. So in terms of waste I doubt that the amount of food being thrown away has changed much.
In defense of the lunch ladies, they were being asked to make and serve a meal to 1000 kids within a couple of hours. They're stretched thin and they don't have much of a budget. I feel bad complaining about the food because I know they were probably doing the best they could. Also, their cinnamon rolls, chocolate cake, and dinner rolls (especially those ones they served with spaghetti) were pretty fantastic, and every once in a while they would serve this potato soup with a lot of pepper in it that I loved. And sometimes the cups of peaches were still frozen, and that was the best. The baked potatoes were actually just fine, but I was being picky.
If we're going to have school lunch (and for many children in poverty I think this program is really important) then these are the obstacles we have to face. How do we make school lunch healthy, affordable, palatable, and convenient to serve? And we have to recognize that doing this for your own family is not the same as doing it for an entire school. Making hand breaded chicken nuggets or freshly sauteed green beans is enough work for my family of five; we're not going to get that at school.
And on a slightly related note, recently I read an article talking about how many schools punish or shame students when their parents haven't paid their lunch accounts (as in, they threw the student's food away). My first reaction was shock that they could be so cruel, but on further reflection I have to admit that it happened sometimes at my school too. I remember in my irresponsible fifth grade years I forgot my lunch check or tickets several times, and if I had forgotten two days in a row I felt physically ill worrying about having to fill out another charge form. A few times I even snuck out of the line and went to my younger sister's classroom to borrow a lunch ticket from her. I remember a few times I got lucky because on a day when I didn't have a lunch ticket I was chosen to be a lunch helper and got free lunch. I actually don't remember if Jill the lunch lady ever yelled at me about not having a lunch ticket, but she definitely did yell at some other kids.
In defense of the lunch ladies, they were being asked to make and serve a meal to 1000 kids within a couple of hours. They're stretched thin and they don't have much of a budget. I feel bad complaining about the food because I know they were probably doing the best they could. Also, their cinnamon rolls, chocolate cake, and dinner rolls (especially those ones they served with spaghetti) were pretty fantastic, and every once in a while they would serve this potato soup with a lot of pepper in it that I loved. And sometimes the cups of peaches were still frozen, and that was the best. The baked potatoes were actually just fine, but I was being picky.
If we're going to have school lunch (and for many children in poverty I think this program is really important) then these are the obstacles we have to face. How do we make school lunch healthy, affordable, palatable, and convenient to serve? And we have to recognize that doing this for your own family is not the same as doing it for an entire school. Making hand breaded chicken nuggets or freshly sauteed green beans is enough work for my family of five; we're not going to get that at school.
And on a slightly related note, recently I read an article talking about how many schools punish or shame students when their parents haven't paid their lunch accounts (as in, they threw the student's food away). My first reaction was shock that they could be so cruel, but on further reflection I have to admit that it happened sometimes at my school too. I remember in my irresponsible fifth grade years I forgot my lunch check or tickets several times, and if I had forgotten two days in a row I felt physically ill worrying about having to fill out another charge form. A few times I even snuck out of the line and went to my younger sister's classroom to borrow a lunch ticket from her. I remember a few times I got lucky because on a day when I didn't have a lunch ticket I was chosen to be a lunch helper and got free lunch. I actually don't remember if Jill the lunch lady ever yelled at me about not having a lunch ticket, but she definitely did yell at some other kids.
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