Identity and happiness

I have a friend who writes a blog.

I'm just going to let you think about that for a minute.

Anyway, this particular blog, Happy Families, is designed to "help you be your best parenting self." It's a parenting blog and I think it's a useful one. A lot of parenting blogs that I read (usually because someone posts a link on Facebook) aren't that useful. It seems that some people who write them are living in a parallel universe--they're floating above the rest of us in an idealistic world that I can't relate to, you know, because I'm here on the ground. Other blogs seem to buy into a current thinking trend that I like to call "the glorification of motherhood." These blogs are self-centered around the parent and have nothing to do with the children--unless said children are doing something (or looking adorable) that makes the parent look better. And then there are the blogs that claim to be "real parents" but really, it's just a whole lot of complaining about children--or complaining about people who aren't in our same stage of life and obviously don't know what they're missing out on.

Wow. I'm rambling a bit here. Let me get to my point. I have a friend--more of an acquaintance--more of a former district leader that I wasn't very close to--and this friend writes a parenting blog. He is working on a Ph.D in psychology (specifically relating to parenting and children) and does parenting seminars and also is raising five daughters. He will often site recent studies and then allow the reader (that's me) to draw conclusions for my own life. Other times (and this is the good stuff), he writes useful little tips for real life, day-to-day parenting. Yesterday he posted something about how to deal with a child's persistent bad behavior (like temper tantrums). Some of his advice is long-term and some is immediate. Either way, he's got a good head on his shoulders (some of his political ideologies are a little off, but he doesn't blog about those) and he's also got good morals. So, I like to read his blog.

I didn't mean for this to be an advert for Happy Families. I'm coming to a point here. I promise I have one. My friend, let's give him a name...we'll call him Justin, started a Facebook page for his Happy Families blog. I was on FB (I know, shocking!) and searched for Justin's new page so I could see if I should "like" it. As I typed "Happy Families" in the search thing, another page came up titled: "Mixed and Happy: I support mixed-race families!" So, I checked it out because I'm a checker-outer. It's a blog and society and support group for parents and children (including adult children) of mixed race families. Interesting, I thought. I guess I could belong to that group.

This is turning into a stream of consciousness of Megan's rambling brain. When I was pregnant with Ammon, I had a job. My boss was the daughter of a Mexican father and a Brazilian (Caucasian) mother. She was dating a black man from Haiti. She had struggled growing up finding her personal ethnic identity and was worried about her potential children who might have an even harder time. Before you scoff, please know that ethnic identity is a real and significant thing. Anyway, my friend (also boss) got a lot of books to read about how to raise children of mixed-race parents. She asked me how I planned to deal with the issue with Ammon. I hadn't thought about it. Not at all. Well, I had thought about the fact that he probably wouldn't get my baby blues, but I like brown eyes. A lot.

So, I thought about it. I approached my Relief Society president, a Caucasian woman married to a Latin-American man. I asked her about how she had helped her children find confidence in their identity. She told me that they didn't focus on culture or ethnicity in their home; they focused on the fact that we are each children of God. Her counsel was to teach my children from birth that their identity is found in knowing their Heavenly Father and knowing that that relationship is real. I found that advice amazing. And I have tried to follow her counsel.

My children naturally know that their heritage is Hawaiian. They also know that they are Welsh, Danish, German, Jewish, Chinese, Cherokee, Scottish, English, and Irish. And maybe Apache, we're not really sure. If I'm completely honest, they forget most of the things on that list. But I remind them. They do know that they are American. And most of all, they are children of a Heavenly Father who loves them. Knowing this profound truth will hopefully shape their identity, their confidence, and their life choices. I know that it has shaped mine.

Um, that was a longer post than I thought it would be. Sorry about that.

Thank goodness for Sarah!

Sarah reacts quickly.

I'm so glad she does. A couple of years ago, we went to Hawai'i to visit Chris' mom and stepdad. The pool at their condo didn't really have a "shallow" end, so the kids (who didn't know how to swim) wore floatation devices to paddle around the pool. One evening, Nathan was so excited to get back in the water (the beach and ocean hadn't been enough for him, apparently), he jumped in the pool before he got his floaties on. He immediately sank right to the bottom. Sarah was standing on the steps and without even thinking, reached down to grab Nathan. She pulled him to safety and resumed her playing. She was five years old. Nathan was almost three. She saved the little fellah before any adults noticed what had happened. Except me, of course. I noticed but I was across the way and Sarah is faster.

Today, I heard Sarah yell (dramatically), "MOM!! Bethie's choking!" I ran downstairs and found Bethie fine, but a little scared. She had been lying on her back with a Magnetix ball in her mouth. It's the size of a marble. She was choking, but fast-acting Sarah noticed, yelled, helped her, and solved the problem. Bethie needed a hug, some water, and to tell Grandma what had happened. Then she was fine.

I'm glad I have Sarah around.

Sunshine

It has been unseasonably warm the last couple days. I haven't enjoyed it as much as I wanted to because I am hanging out inside recovering from the appendectomy. But truth be told, I love the sunshine. I am now ready for spring. It's premature to get spring fever because this is Utah and it is February and winter is just teasing us. I think it will snow this weekend. I haven't looked at the weather forecast, I'm just saying that's what I think. But at least my blog can be sunny and cheery, right? And my music can be sunny and cheery. And I can have sunshine in my head and heart. I really feel like this post can't be complete without a picture of the sunshine, but I only have a handful of photos on this computer and I am too lazy to go to the other computer. So, this is the sunshine that you get:

It's Beth and me about a year and a half ago in Albion Basin during wildflower season in the early morning sunshine. (I wanted to see how many prepositions I could fit in one sentence.)

Anyway....sun. I love it.

Happy Valentine's Day!

My husband is very sweet. He is kind and thoughtful and loves to bring me gifts. He usually brings chocolate because he knows me. One time, for no reason at all, he brought home a gift certificate for me to go get a manicure/pedicure. It was something I NEVER would have bought for myself. When I got to the nail place, the lady helping me said, "Oh, was that your husband who was in here earlier?" She told me that she had never seen another husband buy something like that for his wife. Really? I said. All the women who worked at the salon raved about how sweet and kind Chris was to get me that gift. One of them asked, "Does he always do things like that?" I said, "Yes." I think that's when I realized he's not a normal husband. I thought all husbands did things like that all the time and for no reason at all.

Because Chris is naturally so thoughtful and kind, there are a couple of Valentine's Days that stand out to me. Before I tell these stories, which I find hilarious, please note that I'm not much of a traditional romantic and this particular holiday isn't that big of a deal to me.

One year, I went out of my way to find a babysitter for Valentine's Day. Back then, leaving the kids was a major ordeal. We drove all the way from Park City to West Valley (about 45 minutes) to leave the kids with my sister. We spent the whole drive listening to a pre-game show on the radio. Apparently, I had planned our special date during the most important basketball game of the season. Not only did we get to listen to the pre-game show, I got to listen to Chris' exasperation that I had planned the date during the most important basketball game of the season. We were going to see a movie, but I had to eat first because I was pregnant. Well, that's just an excuse. I always have to eat first. Chris pulled into a fast food place and put the car in park, but didn't turn it off. I asked if he was coming in with me and he said, "NO! I'm listening to the game!" He didn't shout at me--he just has a certain level of passion about sports. In the end, he did come to the movie with me. He enjoyed it. We both enjoyed it. And we got to listen to the post-game show on the way home.

And then there was this one. We had a lovely date in the early evening. We were home and all the kids were asleep by 8:00!! Unbelievable! We had a whole evening to ourselves. So, Chris went to rent a couple of romantic movies. He came home and gave me a choice between Vantage Point and Scorpion King 2. I love it when Chris does things like this because it gives me such great story-telling ideas for later. I told a friend about the evening and he said, "I hope you picked Scorpion King 2 because that just screams Valentine's Day!" I didn't. I chose Vantage Point. Before you worry about me in this situation, remember that Chris went to see Twilight 2 (whatever it's called) without me--and I stayed home to watch Jason Bourne. I'm fine.

And then there was tonight. I just had my appendix out last week and I'm not feeling great. I have been lying around all week watching Chris sweetly do my work. And his work. And recover from jet lag after a week in England. He's amazing. Anyway, tonight I went out of the house--I got all dressed up in my yoga pants to look presentable--and went to hear him sing. Chris had a date with a bunch of old ladies. My grandma used to live in a retirement community and every once in a while, Chris would put on a concert for Grandma and her friends. She doesn't live there any more. She's moved on to an assisted living center. But the tradition continues. Tonight, I got to sit with my kids and listen to Chris sing love songs. He sang Nat King Cole, the Monkees, Don Ho, John Denver, and a bunch of his own songs. Chris croons and the old ladies swoon. He is such a charmer. I still think what I thunk the first time I saw Chris: he has a rich, smooth voice that I could listen to endlessly. It was a lovely Valentine's Day for me, just like usual.

I have always believed that romance isn't so much about what you're doing as who you are with. And I am with the one I love.

Just a word or two about Sarah

One of Sarah's talents is the gift to teach. She teaches very naturally. The other day, She took Beth and started to teach her to read--they were sounding out words together. Then, Sarah decided it was time for art class. I always find it entertaining when my children play school, especially when they set up a proper classroom with desks and a teacher at the blackboard. (It's funny because, since we homeschool, that's not the "classroom" they are familiar with.)

It was Sarah's turn to teach the lesson for our Family Home Evening on Monday night. She chose a couple of stories from the Friend magazine (a children's magazine distributed by our church). I read them with her and she chose which one she wanted to teach. When it came time, Sarah read the entire article (even though I told her to tell the story in her own words). I'm just kidding about sounding exasperated. I think it's wonderful that Sarah is reading an entire article aloud and all by herself. The story was about a little girl who was asked to give a talk during primary. She was so nervous, but decided to do it anyway. She prayed and found that Heavenly Father gave her the courage and the strength to give her talk. She said that if God could help her with that, she knew He could help her with anything.

Sarah finished the story, and then asked the question she had prepared: "Have any of you ever had something like that happen to you?" (She had written her question down so she would know how to teach the lesson.) We gave a few examples, and then Sarah said, "I will tell you when Heavenly Father has helped me to do something that is hard. Well, it's more of a list. He helped me to get through my first piano recital. He is helping me learn to control my temper."

I thought it was so sweet and so very sincere.

A note about Sarah's recital: Sarah has performed before small, family audiences often. But in December, she had her first official piano recital. She was so nervous. Soooo nervous. Bless her little heart. On the way to the recital hall, she said, "I'm just going to get up there and say, 'I've worked really hard, so don't judge me.'" She had worked very hard. Playing the piano doesn't flow easily to Sarah. We prayed that she would have courage to play what she had practiced. And she played her song beautifully.

And now a note about Sarah's temper: Sarah has struggled with anger her whole life. We don't know why. It's just a challenge she faces. We've tried many things to help her learn to control her outbursts. I think it's okay for her to feel anger; she just needs to learn to express it appropriately. Last year, Sarah and I were determined that she make significant progress on her anger management before she was baptized. She worked very hard and prayed quite a lot about it. She's not perfect now, but sometimes I have to remind myself that she was ever as difficult as she was. She, with the help of her Savior, is mastering her tendency to be mean.

Sarah is a sincere, sweet child. I am so grateful she is learning to rely on her Savior while she is so young. If she remembers these lessons, her whole life will be better.