Friday, September 10, 2010

The Business of Motherhood

I found this article:


Excused Absence: Surgery. Or a full-body cast. Otherwise you're pretty much on call all the time.
Downsize: When you finally fit into your pre-pregnancy jeans again.
Environmental Protection Compliance: A Diaper Genie and a can of Lysol.
Performance Review: Annually, in bed, on Mother's Day. You can tell you've done a good job by the homemade greeting cards, flowers, and what appear to be Froot Loops mixed with grapes and chocolate chips.
Equal Opportunity Policy: Everyone is given the opportunity to fold the laundry, but you're the only one who ever takes it.
Sick Day: Doing the same thing you do every day, only you feel worse than you normally do.
Multitasking: Emptying the dishwasher, filling sippy cups with apple juice, and calling your child in sick (again) to the school nurse--all at the same time.
Maternity Leave: The hour or so you get to yourself while the hospital nurses clean, weigh, and put that cute little pink or blue hat on your newborn.
Overtime: Most stay-at-home moms realize that there is no overtime in a job that never ends.

:)

Wednesday, September 8, 2010

Flashbacks from the Summer

Seeing as how I have neglected my blog for entirely too long, some arrangement needs to be made- else Shelley delete me as was previously threatened.... *gasp*

I don't write well under pressure, and I have nothing deep nor inspiring to write about.
We'll start with memories from the summer.

We had a few series of tent meetings during the 4 months I spent there. One of our series was in a place called Camilla Ortega. This is a very poor area, government-owned housing for the poorest. A typical night during gospel meeting was as follows.... There I sat, in the uncomfortable, plastic chair without armrests. These chairs were NOT created for human posture, nor for those with back problems. Filthy, flea-infested dogs meandered through the aisles and circled around the podium. Children chattered loudly as they played around the tent. I was situated in the middle of a row, with children surrounding me on the right and left. A dirty 2-year-old, dressed in smelly, muddy clothes, was falling asleep on my lap. Curled up on my feet laid a flea-infested dog, who scratched himself every few seconds. I could almost feel the fleas crawling up my ankles.... A man (either drunk or not in his right mind) is standing at the back of the tent yelling to the preacher, "But sir, I'm catholic! Excuse me! Sir! I am CATHOLIC." None of us really understood his persistent claim to catholicism, perhaps he was insulted by the truth of the gospel. The meeting ended, and I did my usual dance-twirls with some little girls. As a tall person, twirling with a small child is not a brilliant move. My back has not been right since....

One day, a few young people from our El Valle assembly wanted to take us four young people on a hike. Generally, I can do about anything in a skirt. Rock-climbing does not seem to be one of those things. We hiked up a mountainous-sized hill and down; it was a 3 hour trip. It was absolutely beautiful, at least I think so. My eyes were fixed on the ground the entire time I walked, as we were hiking up a stream. Literally, walking right in the stream as our intent was to follow it to its source, where was the purest water. We didn't end up finding it but it was still a lovely hike. The humidity was incredible that day, which meant my glasses refused to stay on my face. Not only was my vision impaired due to glasses that were giving in to gravity, but the humidity was so intense that my glasses were fogged over most of the hike! I stumbled through the heart of the jungle, barely able to even SEE this magnificent creation, forced to stare at the ground the entire time. Skipping from one wet boulder to the next in a skirt.... well, it wasn't a leisurely walk. I started grabbling whatever seemed to be a handhold: the much-appreciated hand of a gentleman, tree trunks, branches the width of my pinkie, sometimes the rock from which I was leaping.... One moment I was grabbing a small branch, the next I had slipped and soaked my tennis shoes in the stream. Yet another moment I was grabbing a small tree trunk, when I hear this strange-sounding voice behind me, "DON'T TOUCH THAT TREE!!!!" I didn't recognize this voice and, still holding the tree, turned around. I raised an eyebrow at the guilty gentleman, "That was YOUR voice??". "There's a huge spider!!" he exclaims, not impressed with my calm composure. Boy, was he right. It wasn't a tarantula, but it was bigger than the palm of my hand. I shuddered as I thought about the fact that both of us had almost touched this grossly gigantic spider.

Another afternoon, I was visiting Ike and Silvia. Ike is explaining to me that seed sowers are a great place to meet "potential spouses". I rolled my eyes and asked what was so great about it. He grins impishly as he explains that "you get to see what girls look like without their make-up, you get to see what they look like all sweaty and dirty, and you get to see them with wet hair." Uh-huh. The male picture of imperfection, I suppose... I hate to break it to you, buddy, but the world has seen me with wet hair and no make-up pleeeenty of times. You don't need to go to seed sowers for THAT! Besides, I make every effort at seed sowers to make a run to the shower in the wee hours of morning so no one has to witness the "bed hair". You know... hat hair... bed hair.... the I-just-woke-up morning voice.... the I-slept-in-one-spot-all-night creases on the skin.... do I dare mention morning breath??
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