LG

Fight or Flight

Fight or flight…what do you think? Clowns creep me out. I would definitely never fight a clown. And that is how I am starting this post so that I can use one of the limited pictures from my third back up computer.

LG and I have been discussing this theory of fight or flight lately. As I accused him of using fake sicknesses as a way of avoiding stuff…”that would be a flight technique”, I told him.

For the most part, I didn’t marry a fighter. He avoids contention at all costs, which is a good thing and a bad thing. But, I just love LeGrand. He makes me laugh. He is learning to put up his dukes (as my Grandma Dorothy would say) a little more, which is a good thing because he is an attorney by trade, and for all of my therapy to work, someone needs to put me in my place at times.

Anyhow, back to the fight or flight. LeGrand was explaining this theory to the girls at dinner last night. He had learned in a legal education class that mentally ill people can immediately and easily switch into a fight or flight mode, whereas normally healthy people only do so when in extreme situations. LG questioned the girls after his explanation, “If a big black bear were coming at you, what would you do?” “Run away, or stay and fight it.”

Abigail and Bella didn’t hesitate to say they would run as fast as they can.

Sophia on the other hand is always our imaginative one. She said, “I would throw gummy worms at the bear.”

We all decided unanimously that we need to keep Sophia’s hair blonde the rest of her life, no matter how much peroxide it will take.

Where does she come up with this stuff?

I choose you

I choose you.

Every day.

I choose you.

No matter how poor.

I choose you.

As I always have.

I choose you.

No matter how broken.

I choose you.

As I always will.

I choose you.

No matter how hard.

I choose you.

I have to.

I choose you.

No matter how wrong.

I choose you.

I must.

I choose you.

No matter how long,

I have to wait for your success,

or your happiness, or your comfort, or your perfection.

I choose you.

And because I do,

nothing else matters.

When I choose you,

I am a success.

I am happy.

I am at peace.

And I am perfectly whole.

Mr. Obama

Abigail was telling me yesterday that she had written a letter for The President. She is preparing for a trip to Washington D.C. soon.

Sophia questioned, “Did you write Dear Mr. Obama”, and for some reason that struck my funny bone.

I think Abigail may just be writing these letters for some blog attention. I don’t want to disappoint her.

Dear Mr. President,

I would love it if you made everything cheaper. I know you can’t but could you check with the Legislative Branch, please?

You may be wondering why I am asking. Well, my family is in the red zone. We have 4 kids, two pets, and two parents. All but my dad are girls (even the two pets), so, you know how that is with all the drama, clothes, and make-up. Again, thank you for reading this.

Sincerely,

Abigail Gold

P.S. Please reply

Girls!

We are on the cusp of adolescence at our house. Joy. Poor LeGrand. He has been dealing with notes like this for years. Maybe it is time for his wife to grow up.

It was a rough day at our house yesterday. This is the note that I went to bed to find. Do you think that Abigail is sassy enough to be a teenager soon? Or maybe I need a parenting class?

Dear Mom,

I really need you to know this but you’ll yell at me if I tell it to you directly. You see, it feels like your giving less and less attention to me and the only way to get attention from you is to be a brat.

Also, If you could be less angry that would be great.

Also, I’m getting older, I can take more responsibilities, not like clean the whole family room responsibility, like babysitting, taking care of the baby, making dinner, stuff like that.

Also, I don’t know how, but somehow you can’t get it through your thick skull that we work better when it’s fun, to make it fun, you put on music, make it a game, stuff like that. I’d really appreciate the changes.

Sincerely,

Abigail

I am not sure if I should be proud that I have showed her how to express her feelings so well. Be astounded that she captured the first chapter of The Five Love Languages so insightfully, which teaches that people act badly to get attention. Maybe I could just be amused at the brattiness of “the thick skull”. Either way. I know I’ve got to work on my yelling more. And just so ya’ll don’t think that I am totally heartless, I will be having a chat with her.

Oh, it’s notes like these that make me so excited for my daughters to have children of their own. I am going to photo copy this and cross out her name and write in the name of her child at the bottom and mail it to her someday. I can’t wait.

I was considering writing her a note back and leaving it on her pillow tonight.

It would go something like this:

Dear Abigail,

I really need you to know this but you’ll yell at me if I tell it to you directly. You see, it feels like your giving less and less attention to me and the only way to get attention from you is to be a brat.

Also, If you could be less angry that would be great.

Also, you’re getting older, you can take on more responsibilities, like cleaning the whole family room, AND babysitting, taking care of the baby, making dinner,and a lot of other stuff like that.

Also, I don’t know how, but somehow you can’t get it through your thick skull that I work better when it’s fun, to make it fun, you put on music, make it a game, stuff like that. I’d really appreciate the changes.

Sincerely,

Mom

P.S. I love you and your sassiness and I think you are going to write a great college entrance exam someday and I am WAYYY looking forward to it.

My Love

(LG and I – Dec 1997 – quite possibly my favorite photo in the world)

Oh the title makes me sing….”My love, there’s only you in my life, the only thing that’s right”.

Am I the only crazy person in the world who hears lyrics in my head on a daily basis?

Now that Valentine’s Day is over, I have had a whole half of a day to reflect.

On love.

Who knew it is so complicated?

I learned in therapy last week that I am really not the greatest at receiving love.

Try fixing that one. If you have success let me know.

I am a little worried that I am not going to be able to improve in the area and I’ll be left a non-loved hag.

Just call me Grinch, or Scrooge, or even Ornery Old Lady, Maxine.

So, as I told you before, LG and I have been trying to figure out ways to enhance our marriage.

I could tell you all of our baggage, but that seems to bring out some serious haters.

And I am trying to learn how to receive more LOVE not HATE.

So, let’s just say that 6 years ago when LG started law school, we hit a 6 year slump.

And we are trying to slowly dig our way out.

It takes individual and combined efforts.

It’s complicated and difficult.

And exhausting.

Thank goodness we have a therapist to throw us a line from time to time.

But, I have every reason to believe that we will come out on top.

Together.

Meanwhile, I am spending a lot of time reflecting.

Instead of blogging.

As you have all noticed.

(And I’ve been spending too much time on Facebook.)

One thing that was told to me on Facebook was to read a book.

The Five Love Languages

by Gary Chapman

I found a copy at the local and awesome used book store, McKay’s.

I didn’t want to wait behind 32 other people at the local library, so I forked over $7.

I had to search for the book.

It was finally found in the Christian section in the subsection High Demand.

Funny they had only two copies compared to several shelves of Bibles.

Now that’s a modern conundrum.

Can I now use my reading of The Five Love Languages as an additional argument for why Mormons are Christian too?

So, I have read a good twenty pages.

I am trying to decide my love language.

The choices are:

1- quality time

2- words of affirmation

3- gifts

4- acts of service

5- physical touch

The earth shattering gospel of the book is that every person has a love language that they understand.

Love languages are learned just as a native communicating language is learned.

If your spouse doesn’t show love to you in your language,

it’s as if a Chinese person who speaks no English is married to a Spanish person who speaks no Chinese.

Well, because my therapist says I am not good at receiving love.

Which I have come to believe is true.

I am wondering if I even have any love language at all.

LG and I were discussing this little worry of mine.

I was reminded of a little conversation we had recently.

I said, “I think I might have a little of the language of “gifts”.

A few weeks back I was telling LG that I had read a great article in Good Housekeeping about the art of the love letter.

I told LG he should read it.

He agreed that he should.

He was distracted at work on the phone.

I didn’t think he was listening to me.

I said, “Do you know what would be the best love letter for me?”

He said, “What?”

I said with all the confidence I could muster:

“The dishwasher is on it’s way.”

He was actually listening because he laughed.

Hard.

LG hasn’t bought into the idea that buying me things will make our marriage more loving.

He questioned last night how him bringing me things home from The Dollar Tree could really help our marriage.

I told him that he should try it and see.

And that I think it really would.

Help our marriage.

He said, ‘How does some random glass figurine make you know I love you?”

I reminded him that the first gift he ever gave me was a porcelain skunk.

And it has sat in a place of honor in our front room,

for the last twelve years.

He was silent.

As he pondered.

What he is going to buy me at the dollar tree.

Until he can afford the dishwasher.

And, my love language has been uncovered.

Now, we just have to figure out LG’s.

We think his might be words of affirmation.

He likes it when I tell him that he’s sexy.

I told him that spending $1 on something stupid is sexy.

Watch out therapist.

Gary Chapman is gonna steal your hardest clients.

Please, don’t ever argue that facebook isn’t good for a marriage.

Because although my therapist helped me to see that my love needed help in the receiving department.

A friend on facebook pointed me in the right direction.

So that I could see that I would most prefer to receive love,

in the form of a gift.

Anatomical Energy

There is a reason I married a guy who had the skills in Science.

I knew somebody was gonna have to teach it to our children.

Shortly after LG and I got married, we both started a new semester of college. He went to one of his advanced classes while I tried my hand at Physical Science 101. After this 2nd attempt at Physics, (the first ending horribly in High School with one of the only bad grades I remember receiving) I found my knight in shining armor waiting for me outside the room. It only took that first 45 minutes of the introduction to the semester to get me all in tears.

“I just can’t take that class.”

He was dumbfounded. I tried to explain. He tried to understand.

Me: “I just don’t get the study of gravity. I know if I chuck this textbook at you, it will hit you. Why else do I need to know that stuff? I don’t care how long it will take or how hard it will hit. Who needs the law of gravity? It’s not like we are ever gonna live on the moon.”

Him: “Well, Alice, that isn’t technically the law of gravity, if you throw that book at me.”

Me crying harder, “O.k. whatever, see I just don’t care. I can’t learn about something that I don’t care about one iota.”

“or one molecule, or atom or whatever they call that stuff.”

Do they really call it mass? Matter? And there is a difference between the two?

Later that evening, while in bed, (we were newly weds who actually waited until we got married, so you can go ahead and wonder why we were still discussing this topic) we decided that Biology might be a better choice for me.

If I could get the babies here,

he would agree to teach them everything they needed to know in the area of science.

Well, tonight was the night. Where was my knight in shining armor when I needed him?

Abigail came home from the fifth grade with the confusing stuff.

“Are you serious Abigail? They really teach you this stuff in fifth grade?”

No wonder I was so lost in the 11th grade. It was the first time I remember ever seeing the material.

Did the rest of the class really get their start about 6 years earlier?

Well, I am honored to tell you that the stuff is still confusing to me.

Abigail tried to be humble. O.k. not really.

“Mom, it’s so easy. Will you just test me on the stuff?”

“Um, yeah, sure.”

Note to self: Someday tell Abigail the knight in shining armor story.

Here is where my explaining stopped.

This is a photo of the Nuclear Plant in Diablo Valley, CA

Me: “Abigail, there are two boobs in California. I think they are kinetic, um, I mean potential energy.”

“Oh, forget it, go to bed. We’ll get you up early so dad can help you.”

Abigail. “Boobs, are you kidding me mom?”

Oh, yeah, I dropped Anatomy after two weeks.

I just couldn’t stand the thought of seeing what was really inside of a boob.

And if you are like me and still left trying to figure it out.

Does a boob store energy or is it “energy in use”?

You will have to ask my husband. Or Abigail may be able to help you. Tomorrow.

LG just got home.
He says that the answer is: Boobs create energy.

Yes, there is a Santa Claus

After a recent depressing blog post,

I received an outpouring of love.

It was truly a miracle.

A Christmas miracle.

I had tried not to talk about our deplorable situation.

I didn’t want to be needy.

Or ungrateful.

I also didn’t want to make my husband feel bad.

Because he has been busting his tail.

But when one is building his own business straight out of college,

it is rough. Really rough.

And even rougher when you have a family to support.

This has been the worst fiscal year of our lives.

And that says a lot.

Because you all know we were in law school with three kids.

And we lived on less than $18,000 a year.

For those who aren’t Mormon.

You gotta know that Mormons keep a supply of food for emergencies.

Months back, we lived on that food for the first time in our married lives.

After months of living like this, I finally fell apart on my blog.

I threw it out there.

And I only threw a small portion

of the load that I had been carrying.

As to not make anyone feel bad.

Especially my husband.

Who I honor, respect, and admire.

Shortly after I threw it out there,

Miracles started to happen.

(LG sarcastically remarked that I should have begged on the blog earlier,

like when the kids needed shoes for school.)

I can’t even think about some of them without crying.

For instance,

A friend I haven’t spoken to in years called and asked what she could buy my girls for Christmas.

She had read the blog and felt inspired.

I am deeply grateful for all of the little miracles in 2009.

God has been good to us.

But one miracle in particular,

deserves a special mention.

A special mention

because

I met the wife of Santa Claus

when she found my blog years ago.

I would have never known Santa Claus without the blog.

Did you know that Santa really lives in Nevada?

Last week I got an e-mail from him.

The message line.

Yes, Abigail, Sophia, Bella, Caroline..there is a Santa Claus.

Along with it there was a notice to pick up a trampoline at our local Wal-Mart.

Santa’s wife had read my blog.

She notified her kind and generous husband of a Christmas need.

It wasn’t really a need, but a want.

A want on the Christmas list.

A want that some down and destitute parents could have never fulfilled.

And they would have never asked for help.

Because it was just a want.

And their kids had what they needed.

And the kids had become very aware that the basic necessities of life were blessing enough.

They could ask Santa for some amazing gift,

but he probably would be too busy helping some even more destitute kids in Africa.

But guess what?

Santa wasn’t too busy.

And on one day of the year,

nothing was too much to want.

Because on one day of the year.

Miracles happen.

And some precious little girls in Knoxville, TN got a trampoline.

Even when their parents had told them repeatedly

that Santa had kids to feed in Africa.

And would probably be too busy.

And one very little blogger.

with a very small readership.

Got her Christmas miracle too.

Santa Claus read her blog.

And on Christmas Day,

he made her husband smile.

Really smile.

And that is all she wanted.

And she had wanted that for a very long time.

Ever since last Christmas.

But she thought Santa was too busy in Africa.

But, Santa was in Nevada.

And he not only read my blog.

But he made miracles happen at my house.

That is so like him.

I heard this song on the radio the evening of Christmas.

I bawled my eyes out.

That evening my prayer went something like this:

Give Santa a halo for me, will ya?

Oh, and send his wife a big fat kiss.

The Nine Good Things

Some people complained that I was mean to my husband by calling him anti-social two posts ago.

First, in my defense. I wasn’t trying to be critical. I thought I was just stating the facts. He really is extremely introverted. He will be social and even enjoys being social with close friends and family, but even then I usually have to drag him to their parties. And Valerie Ader will attest to the fact. Since she is one of the only people who does invite us over from time to time.

I don’t think it is a bad thing to understand ourselves and the people we love and to discuss things freely, and I apologize to those people who feel like I should be more private. LG is also learning to understand that being more open leads to healthier relationships.

Anyhow, after some feedback, it got me thinking of my goal to build the guy up instead of tear him down.

Yes, I fail at my goals often. And I do apologize when I do, privately and sometimes publicly. Aren’t you all lucky?

So as part of my apology I would like to practice the old parenting adage that you should dish out 9 compliments for every reprimand.

Before the nine compliments though, let me make it clear that I wasn’t trying to passively reprimand my husband for being anti-social. I love him just the way he is. I don’t blame him for the fact that we don’t have friends. In fact if the blame really lies with anyone it is with me way more than it is with him.

On with it, already.

So the nine things.

But one more distraction before the nine good things. In the spirit of full disclosure and honesty I would like to admit that my husband is far from perfect. I say that not to make him feel bad or to be critical but to make those of you out there that are mad at your husbands or dealing with a difficult marital relationship know that it’s o.k. EVERYBODY on this planet has strengths and weaknesses and the beauty of marriage is that you learn to look past those things. If you are really blessed you can playfully banter about them (I read an article today describing George and Barbara Bush doing just that) And if you are really really lucky, you can watch a spouse as their weakness turns to a strength. Maybe LG will see improvement in me as he reads this nice post. That’s my ulterior motive anyhow. Can you say brownie points? 🙂

By the way, honest is probably the one word I would pick to describe myself. The name Alice means honest – I am lamely honest. Almost like that girl in Ella Enchanted had to do what she was told…it’s as if I was cursed as a child to state what I am thinking and only the truth at all times. But I am learning to turn weakness into strength. I started by not airing a single piece of LG’s dirty laundry in that last paragraph; much to the relief of some of his other loved ones I am sure.

So , really, with no further ado…here are the nine things.

LG may be the only one who cares to keep reading. Oh, and LG’s mom. And of course, you, John, because you want to see how capable you are as a marriage counselor.

1 The guy is smart. Really really smart.

2 He is extremely patient. (What a bonus for me)

3 He is one of the kindest individuals on the face of the planet. (When they say “oh, he would never hurt a fly”, that is a lie, he would swat a fly to death, and also doesn’t have too much respect for any animal he could shoot in the garden, but besides that, he wouldn’t hurt a fly)
4 He is hilarious. (He promised me that he would make me laugh every day before we got married, and he has lived up to that promise except for the days that he has only made me cry, but either way he has turned my frowns upside down)
5 He is fair and ethical, not just because he is supposed to be but because he just is.
6 He is generous. (A few years back he didn’t bat an eyelash when I told him to give up half his meager Christmas bonus for people who had a bigger TV than ours – and if anything has been the hardest for him in his new law practice, it has been learning to tell people that he can’t work for free)
7 He is an amazing father. A – MAZ – ING in capital letters.
8 He is a prodigy in the field of electronic gadgets and random musical instruments.
9 The thing that I have loved the most about him lately is that he is willing to admit when he is wrong and he is trying very hard to change.

But it isn’t wrong to be anti-social and therefore I wouldn’t feel like saying that is being critical.

And while I am still in my own defense. There may be only a handful of people as righteous as Job throughout all world history.

Reflection

I recently have felt some bad mojo with myself.

That probably doesn’t even make sense.

It has to do with the fact that my husband has been in a cave for over a month.

And that I didn’t get that solo in the church choir.

And I wasn’t invited to THAT party.

And I have gained 15 pounds since the baby has been born.

And I am sleep deprived.

And my kids have been sick on and off ever since school started.

And tonight to top off all insults, the shelter wouldn’t let us take that darn dog home. They have to clear us with our veterinarian. I cannot even imagine the whaling that is gonna happen when our kids can’t get that dog named Fiesta tomorrow because we missed Kitty Bears vaccines one year.

Hmm…what else can I come up with?

Oh, we don’t have very many friends because our house is in shambles and nobody likes to come over here when we can go to their nice beautiful well decorated homes. But they don’t really invite us over. (No this is NOT to make you feel bad…you three friends who know who you are)

Or maybe we don’t have any friends because I am overly obnoxious and my husband is about as anti-social as you can get.

My husband has been a business owner and a lawyer for over 18 months and HE HATES IT!

And I hate it that he hates it.

And we have never been so poor.

And we wanted to get that dog because it was a cheaper option than the trampoline.

And Santa can’t disappoint three darling little girls who want nothing but a dog for Christmas.

And it’s a good thing because they aren’t going to get much more than that.

If they even get that. Because the shelter apparently doesn’t want to send dogs to good and loving homes.

And now my husband is on the phone and I remembered that he chipped a tooth today.

And I gotta call the dentist tomorrow.

Man, I was just happy yesterday when I realized we had freed up $125 a month because we had finally paid off my dental work.

And I am glad that he is still breathing because he has been breaking out in hives on and off for over three weeks.

He told me he is like Job.

But he probably isn’t as righteous.

So I hope his stress will go away soon.

Because the only reason he is still doing this is because we think that is what God wanted.

Surely, He is gonna say, “Well done, thou good and faithful servant” very soon and maybe if we get really lucky He will add “now go and get a real job with a consistent paycheck.”

Back to me.

Maybe my problem with my bad mojo is that I haven’t been blogging?

I need somewhere to get it all out there.

But I can’t blog easily because my desktop died and I am using a laptop that doesn’t access my pictures very easily.

Oh, and did I tell you how horrible it is that my laptop is set up on a makeshift table that is blocking me from getting to my tupperware?

Yeah, THAT tupperware…the table is right in front of my dishwasher. And my dishwasher is where I keep my tupperware because my dishwasher hasn’t been used in over a year because it is broken.

I am not trying to get sympathy here.

I swear.

I am just getting it out there.

Because once I type it out, it’s like it all goes away.

And I forget that my kitchen counters are covered with dirty dishes that I just can’t find the will to wash tonight.

But this year, I have truly learned gratitude.

I know it doesn’t sound like it, but really,

I am grateful that I have dishes to eat from.

And food to eat.

And a laptop that works.

And that it can hook up to the Internet.

So that I can get it all out of my system.

And who cares about that stupid solo, or that party, or those pounds.

I am a daughter of God.

And He loves me.

And he provides me with my necessities.

Sometimes that’s ALL he provides.

But, as they sang on Glee last night.

We can’t always get what we want, but we get what we need.

Oh yeah, my brother really got onto me for watching that show.

Because if I was just more righteous.

The other night, at our church Christmas party,

I was discussing with a girl her dream of becoming a chef.

I wondered out loud, what my dream would be that I could maybe pursue someday.

She said, “I bet it will have something to do with your blog.”

I bet she is right.

Everybody needs a dream.

It makes you feel happy.

And it makes you focus.

And mine happens to help me get it all out there.

And if you are still reading this.

Maybe my dream has some merit.

Because somehow you relate.

And that is the magic of a good writer.

And she may be a better singer.

And her a better hostess.

And she a better crafty – er person.

And her skinnier.

And her more beautiful.

And heck, there are plenty of girls out there with more hits on their blog.

But, one person is gonna read this and feel better.

And that’s all I could ask for.

Dammit…..five misspells.

Maybe I will find another dream.

Can’t you just wait for my Christmas card?

The future is Glee

I hope my Bishop won’t find out this admission.

I love Glee!

Yes, it is inappropriate.

Teenage pregnancy & homosexuality all over the place.

I might as well throw it all out there.

I will also admit that I let my kids watch Glee on occasion.

And yes I am a horrible mother because guess what? They all love it as much as I do.

There are few things that we love more than humor and music around here.
We all live a life of music and humor. We live our own little whacked out musical.

I want you all to know that I try to be a good mom. Tonight, I at least started the show with the disclaimer to the children that they could watch Glee as long as they understood that it is wrong to have sex out of wedlock and it’s morally wrong to be gay.

Sidenote: I love you gay people, but I won’t budge on the correctness of the gospel principles. You gotta live the commandments. I was born as a bitty and it is not o.k. for me to go through life lashing out at people justifying it’s OK for me to hurt everyone around me because I was born that way. – Oh man, I can see the comments a flowing – can’t wait for this ball to roll. Being gay is not wrong because it hurts people, it’s wrong because God said so. Period.

And go ahead hang me. I just admitted that I love Glee and I am a good Mormon girl therefore I am the worst kind of hypocrite. And I am sure some of you will say that I am also a homophobe….not true…those of you that really know me, know that I am a lover of the gays. Go ahead tell me how horrible I am. You can’t tell me anything that I haven’t heard before.

If God ever declares the Bible incorrect and that Sodom and Gomorrah (however you spell that) was really Zion, I will be the first in line to embrace all my gay friends and family members. (Not that I don’t embrace them now, I will really embrace them with happiness that they can be gay and righteous.)

And for now when Jesus comes again I will stand with him on the issue…Well, I will try to stand with him, I will probably have to give up the Glee if I ever want that to happen. Not quite ready for that yet.

Well, on with my post.

Last night, the girls were up late finishing homework. I snuck in the other room to watch Glee. I figured out that I have to wait a whole day before it gets posted online and I didn’t want to wait. LG was handling homework duty just fine. Last night was the first night I went to watch Glee on TV. I have been watching Glee on Hulu. Cool site. You can watch any tv show on it with very few commercials. It’s like an online Tivo for the poor. You gotta wait 24 hours though.

I never watch TV. Really. With facebook, a blog, and trying to figure out how to work twitter, whose got the time? Until last night, I had only indulged in my Glee habit after school with the girls. Around here, Glee is like a way liberal updated version of an after school special. We justify it’s viewing because we use it as a teaching tool. Well, last night, Abigail came out to see what I could possibly be doing. She was surprised to find me in front of the TV.

She pined for Glee and whined for her chance to watch it NOW. I told her “later!” She slowly moped back to the kitchen table for homework. She turned to LeGrand and said, “Hey Dad, did you know that Glee comes on TV?”

We’re living the Jetsons people. Welcome to the future.