The Story

It’s time to tell a story.

To truly understand this story, you need to know a little bit about what I believe.

I believe in God.

I believe that life is a learning experience that will ultimately help us to become more like God.

I believe that God is involved in our mortal journeys – that He blesses us and guides us.

I believe in prayer, and my understanding of prayer has changed a lot throughout my life. Prayer is not just about asking God for the things I want. Prayer is an act of bringing my will and desires into alignment with His.

I believe that God communicates to me (and anyone else who has the desire) through the Holy Ghost. I often use phrases like, “Heavenly Father told me…” or “God let me know that…” When I make those comments, I’m referring to experiences I’ve had where I’ve felt the Spirit. For me, that communication comes through thoughts and feelings which I then pray about so I can make sure I understand them correctly.

I believe that God knows far more than we do. I believe that He often puts us in circumstances and ask things of us that we don’t fully comprehend. I also believe He gives us choice. He will not force us to choose His way, but if we seek His way, He will provide a path.  

A little over three years ago, I wrote a post about my comfort zone. 

To this day, I love my comfort zone. I've learned to live in it very cozy-like. I rarely venture out, and when I do, I keep one foot planted firmly and stretch my other leg out as far as possible without having to actually breach The Zone. In essence, if I can't reach it with my big toe, I don't reach for it at all. 

At the time I wrote that post, I'd been sensing something coming for four years. I felt that God had a request for me, but I didn't know what it was. I only knew that it would force me to leave The Zone.

A month after I wrote that post, I felt a prompting from the Spirit that I needed to go to school. Ten years prior, I'd earned my Associate's, and when I'd prayed about continuing my education, my answer was to wait. I felt great about that because I suffer from self-diagnosed "University Phobia."

The prompting to return to school came as the result of a Google search. I don't remember what, exactly, I was searching for, but I suddenly found myself staring at a list of BYU-Idaho online degrees. I thought it would be interesting to see what programs were offered because maybe I would go back to school in fifteen years when my children were older, so I went ahead and scrolled. 

As soon as I saw that BYU-I offered a degree in Marriage and Family Studies, I felt something overwhelming, and I started bawling. It wasn't what I was looking for, and it wasn't what I wanted, but as soon as it was on the screen, I knew.

This was it! It was time to leave my comfort zone.

I tried to suppress it for a while. For one thing, it was July. You can't apply for a school in July and start in the fall. On top of that, Scotty had just gradated after eight years. I was looking forward to a period of calm in our lives, a time when we could just coast for a while. 

The following week I was driving my daughter home from Primary Children's Hospital, which is by the University of Utah, and as I navigated the campus, I remembered the prompting I'd had. While sitting at a stoplight, I told Heavenly Father, "Fine. I'll look and see when I can apply, but that's it. I'm just going to look."

I wasn't sure God knew that you have to apply for school much earlier in the year, and I was determined to help Him realize this. I knew I'd be a year out, at minimum, from going to school. I trusted that something would change in that year, and that I could still get out of it. 

When I got home that day, I looked at the BYU-Idaho website and found that the application deadline wasn't for another week. I knew I would need to meet with my bishop and stake president to even apply, and the odds of both being available at the drop of a hat were slim.  I fully planned on getting out of it and was more than happy to shrug my shoulders and blame my Church leaders. To my dismay, my bishop was able to meet with me that very night, and the stake president was available that Sunday.

Every excuse I came up with to get out of it got crushed under the weight of God's will. When I whined about money, He told me not to worry about it. When I worried about neglecting my children, He reassured me that it would be fine. When I asked if I would get to be released from my Church calling, He said no. 

And then, just to be funny, He sent us a little surprise the week after I registered for classes: a positive pregnancy test. When I thought, "Surely I can't go back to school now!" He reassured me that yes, I could. 

With much resistance, I did it. I went back to school, and I thought I’d never see the end of it, but now it’s been three years, and I’m graduating!

I believe that I followed God’s will by getting my degree. At this point, I can look back and see so many ways that I was prepared for it. The timing wasn’t convenient, but it was exactly right.

I don’t know what I’ll do with my degree in the future – God’s will can be funny that way - but I’m okay with that because I know I will receive additional guidance as opportunities arise. I know that, regardless of whether I go into a career in my field, I will always benefit personally from what I’ve learned.

I realize that getting a Bachelor’s degree doesn’t make me special. Lots of people have Bachelor’s degrees. Lots of people work really hard to get an education. This story isn’t so much about the degree as it is about following the Spirit and doing what God wants me to do.

Going back to school was hard, especially with four young children. There were times where I thought I couldn’t go on, but any time I became discouraged, I would have an experience that would motivate me to keep going. I was repeatedly reassured by the Holy Ghost that I could do it. God didn’t make it “easy," but He made it possible.

That is the story. 

On Sundays we have German pancakes for breakfast (and ten other random facts)

Fact #1: The other day I took my kids to the dollar theater (do these exist in the greater society? We have one crappy dollar movie theater left around here). Anyway, my kids, who are apparently spoiled with their grandparent sponsored Cinemark and Megaplex outings, were so confused about the dollar theater. "Are we watching a TV instead of a movie screen?" they asked when they saw the significantly smaller screen. "Why won't the seats lean back?"

Fact #2: Despite the previous "fact," I've been a bit of a hermit this summer. My older kids are constantly begging to go somewhere, but I dread leaving the house because of this:

Eva is not "outing friendly" right now. Neither is Zoe. Whenever I leave the house with those two, I end up caked in sweat and nearly in tears (and lest you think the dollar movie went smoothly, I'll have you know I stood out in the hall with a screaming Eva for most of the show. Luckily this theater has small windows in the doors so I could keep an eye on the others).

Fact #3: When we went to the dollar movie, Nicky wanted to sneak in a hamburger from Wendy's so he duct taped it to his stomach. This was one of those situations where I felt it best to not intervene. I just needed to watch it play out. It fell out of his shirt in the parking lot.

Fact #4: I'm pretty sure Nicky has spent most of his summer within arms reach of me. I think I'm supposed to appreciate that my ten-year-old son wants to be with me all the time, but it's driving me pretty crazy. I love my son dearly, but I really need him to find something to do.

Fact #5: Coloring my hair got me like...

Fact #6: I might be getting tubes in my ears this year. I've had fluid in my ears consistently for about five years, and it's time to get my ears checked out by the ENT. My primary care physician (whom we call the "little Dutch boy") has urged me repeatedly to go to the ENT, and I think I'm finally ready to obey. 

Fact #7: I just thought of a future blog post. It's about two pieces of advice I have taken to heart and benefited from. I'm using this "fact" as a "note to self" for later.

Fact #8: It's been pretty hot here lately - over 100 for the past week. I have chronic sweaty bangs. My heart goes out to those in hotter climates. I've spent a lot of time driving around in my van just so I can have a blast of A/C. 

Fact #9: Nicky came up with a fantastic idea for a musical the other day. I can't stop thinking about it, and I'm full of ideas. Maybe we will be writing a mother and son musical. Hmmm... 

Fact #10: The next time I blog, I will have a bachelor's degree!

My Day So Far

"MOOOOOM! My scooter keeps making my foot go down!"

I don't even know what this means.

"MOOOOOM! I need this troll to have a ponytail!"

I'm pretty sure that goes against all things "troll."

"MOOOOOM! Baby cup!"
(Translation: I want to drink from the tiniest cup known to man)

Here is a medicine cup. Go to town!

"MOOOOOOM! Need! Ice!"

As you wish.

"MOOOOOM! I want four muffins! FOUR!!!"

I give her three. She eats two.

"MOOOOOM! The chicken lost a feather. We need to put it back on right now."

It's not a chicken feather.

"MOOOOOM!"

Um... you're talking to Dad.

Summer Goals

For summer, I have two unofficial goals.

Goal #1: Graduate

Goal #2: Go "real" camping (as in two nights, minimum)

I'll spare you more talk of my graduation. I'm pretty sure you know it's happening since I mention it in almost every post.

The other goal was accomplished this past weekend. 

Here is a brief history of our camping efforts since having children:

Scotty and I camped a lot before we had kids. We imagined we'd be "camping with kids" people when the time came, but then reality gave us a swift kick in the pants. We are not "camping with kids" people, but we still have this delusion that we can become those people some day. That's why we continue putting our delusion to the test.

All camping trips have been one nighters. Most trips have resulted in children screaming through the night (this is obviously a problem when you are in a campground with other people), and most trips have involved at least one person getting sick (very often, it has been Zoe). To put it simply: camping with kids hasn't ever gone smoothly for us. 

But someday, maybe it will go great... Hence the two-night trial of his past weekend.

We left on Friday afternoon and stopped at one of our favorite pizza places on the way. About an hour before we left home, I got hit full-force with a really bad sore throat and body aches. I went down fast. By the time we were driving, I was completely miserable, and I didn't enjoy the pizza I'd been looking forward to because I felt like crap. 

(Also, please note that my butt is too wide for the seats at the pizza restaurant. This is very upsetting, and I feel like I need to write a letter to advocate for normal sized people everywhere)!

Anyway, I was able to scrounge up some 800 mg ibuprofen, which helped me feel a little better by the time we got to our campsite. 

The first night was peaceful, for the most part. We set up camp, lit a fire, and let the kids go s'more crazy.

Then we went to bed, and that's a whole other story. It was freezing, and the kids woke up off and on all night. Eva ended up in the sleeping bag with Scotty and me. I needed to pee like crazy, but there are many reasons I refused to get up and pee:

1. It was cold

2. The sound of the sleeping bag zipper might wake up the kids

3. The sound of the tent zipper might wake up the kids

4. It was cold

5. I was my underwear because Scotty promised me that the less clothing I wore, the warmer I would be in the sleeping bag (hmmm.....)

6. The bathrooms were far away

7. I might have gotten eaten by a rabid squirrel

8. It was cold

9. It was dark

So I held it.

For hours. 

I hardly slept. I am too old and fragile to sleep on the ground. The night was so long, and that rabid squirrel I mentioned? It wouldn't stop chittering. I wanted to stab it, but I couldn't leave the tent to stab the squirrel for many of the same reasons I couldn't leave the tent to pee. 

Much of the second day went well, but some things also went awry. We went to a nearby lake and walked about .2 miles before Eva threw herself on the ground and refused to move. 

I spent most of the day escorting Daisy and Zoe back and forth from the bathrooms. Daisy pees more than any creature on this earth.

Since I didn't sleep the first night, I ended up napping under a tree. Laying in pine needles is quite refreshing after sleeping on the hard ground. I didn't even mind the ants climbing all over me. 

While I was sleeping, Scotty walked with the kids down to the river to do some fishing. When I woke up, he was standing over me with a bloody head and ear. Apparently he fell into a tree, and just to make the experience all the more adventurous, he's also walked in poison ivy. His leg was covered in a red, burning rash. 

A few minutes later, a guy backed his car into our van. 

We had some good campfire cooking. Nicky warmed the leftover pizza, and we also made foil dinners.

Part of our reason for camping was to help Nicky finish passing off some Cub Scout requirements to earn his Webelos badge and his Arrow of Light. He had to start a fire without matches and cook two recipes over the fire without pots and pans.

Daisy also had a turn to start a fire without matches.

We played some games, and I taught Daisy how to do crossword puzzles. 

I tried to read my kids The Secret Garden. I had to explain what cholera is and why everyone in the beginning of the book is dying. Nicky thought this was horrible and doesn't know why anyone would read a book with people dying in it. This is another delusion I have - the delusion that I will be able to read books to my kids, and they will like them. Needless to say, they hated The Secret Garden, so I will be finishing it alone. 

(The little punks hate Harry Potter too. I can't win with them. They hate everything ).

The second night was even rougher than the first. My head and throat ached, and the urge to pee started earlier than it did the first night. I wore more clothing, but I still wasn't willing to get up to go to the bathroom until Zoe woke up at 6:00 and needed to go. 

Scotty eventually emerged from the tent and lit a fire. We had breakfast, and then I went nuts gathering everything up and loading the van. I went into "get me out of here" mode. I needed to go home and take a shower and lay in a real bed. Most of this need stemmed from how crappy I felt. Folks, camping while sick is miserable. I don't recommend it. 

Anyway, while I was scurrying about, I had Scotty's iPhone in my pocket. I bent over to put some duffel bags in the stow and go of our van, and the phone fell out and shattered. It was less than a month old.

We arrived home by 9:00 that morning.

Things didn't go very smoothly, but we did have some successes. The kids had a lot of fun, and that's what matters most. It wasn't easy, though. Holy moly. Camping with kids is hard. 

Who am I?

I have about three weeks left until I graduate.*

When I went back to school, I was experiencing a bit of an identity blip (I decided to go with “blip” instead of “crisis” because it wasn’t really a “crisis” – just a period of feeling lost). I didn’t really have any fresh goals. I wasn’t progressing. I was a little bit depressed. Even my friendships were in a bit of a rut. Going back to school helped me find what I’d lost. I felt a new sense of purpose, and I felt like I actually knew something other than diaper brands and PBS Kids series.

But now I’m here at the end, and I am again experiencing an identity blip. I don’t know who I am, and I don’t know who I will be when this is over.

Part of me wants to start fresh, but the other part of me longs for someone that I used to be.

I know I’ve changed in the past three years, but it’s hard to take inventory of my change because I don’t know what’s temporary and what’s permanent. I feel like I will have to get reacquainted with myself after I graduate and really figure out who I am again.

I hope I don’t sound melodramatic, but going back to school and having four little kids was hard. It was so hard. And I had to adapt in so many ways to be able to do it.**

One of my biggest fears is that I will have a degree, but I won’t be better. If I’m not better at the end of this than I was when I started, what is the point? Nothing I’ve learned matters if I haven’t transformed into something better. I feel like I’m going to be put to the test.

I keep having ideas pop in my head for things I want to do after I graduate, but I keep suppressing those things. I can't overwhelm myself. 

One thing at a time, Britt. 

Finish school, then take it slow.  

*After graduation I will have about a week’s worth of assignment and internship work to complete. I feel like I need to throw this out there because it might make me hesitant to celebrate. I don't want to do my victory dance before I cross the finish line. 

**Now I have friends who are talking about going back to school, and I have to fight every urge to say, "Are you INSANE???" Because guys, I'm not lying when I say it's hard. 

It's So Write

Several years ago, I listened to a talk on CD by G. Sheldon Martin.

Brother Martin is a licensed mental counselor slash seminary teacher. He is equal parts behavioral science and gospel, which is sort of what I want to be when I grow up. I love me some psychology, and I love me some religion. Putting the two together is like putting gravy on mashed potatoes. It is so right.

But I’m not here today to go on and on about Sheldon. I’m here to go on and on about something he said:

"Writing is the most reformed form of thought; to write it, you have to think it."

Oooooo! Do you love it?

Let’s say it again:

"Writing is the most reformed form of thought; to write it, you have to think it."

Notice that it doesn’t say, “To write it, you have to believe it.” But you do have to think it, which means anything you write has made a path through your brain and down to your finger tips and onto paper (or screen). Anything you write has been contemplated, pondered, and processed in some way.

I love this thinking/writing connection, and as I contemplated the association between the two, I thought that there might be some articles published online about the health benefits of writing. So I did some official Google research and found a lot of great information. As I assumed, writing has been shown to have positive healing effects for mental illness, cancer, and even AIDS. I could list thousands of amazing statistics and facts about writing, but I will just sum it all up with this:

Writing is good for you.

I don’t claim to be an expert writer, but I love writing, and I feel that writing consistently throughout my life has helped shape me into who I am.

Writing has healed me, comforted me, and pacified me.

Writing has connected me to other people and encouraged me to think with depth.

Writing has allowed me to express myself creatively and to explore new perspectives.

I know that writing doesn’t appeal to everyone, but even in small doses, it can be therapeutic. Here are ten ideas, all requiring different levels of commitment and time to get you writing if you aren’t already:

1. Start a blog (or pick up where you left off over a year ago on the blog that you already have)

2. Write a letter

3. Keep a journal

4. Keep a page-a-day notebook

5. Fill someone else’s writing with margin notes ("marginalia" for the win!)

6. Document a single story from your life

7. Write a list

8. Write a family mission statement

9. Model a piece of writing after something someone else has written (with proper credit, of course)

10. Write thought bubbles in newspapers or magazines

In slightly adapted words of country singer Lee Ann Womack:

"I hope you dance write!"

All the Rage

I have a confession. I love playing with my kids' fidget spinners. If I see one sitting around the house, I'll pick it up and spin it for as long as I can before they catch me and take it back.

Maybe I should have rules about fidget spinners. Like, if you leave it out, it's mine.

But meh.

I haven't come to a place in life where I want to enforce fidget spinner rules. For now, the only rule is that you can't take them to church.

Anyway, the fidget spinner craze has made me nostalgic for all of the fads of my own childhood.

In first grade, slap bracelets were banned from my school.

(Twenty-four years later, when Nicky took a slap bracelet to the face and had to get stitches, I was finally at peace with the slap bracelet ban of 1990).

 

In sixth grade, it was Pogs.

Our elementary would have special days when we were allowed to play with Pogs at recess, but we weren't allowed to play "for keeps." I'm not sure how they refereed all that.

In eighth grade, everyone snuck their Giga Pets or Tamogotchis in their backpacks.

I never had one, but I would often play with my friend's during social studies. 

In tenth grade, it was laser pointers.

It's been kind of fun to tell our kids about the crazes of our childhood. Of course, there were far more than just these, but these are the ones I remember causing problems at school. About the same time the secondary schools were having problems with laser pointers, elementary school was starting to have problems with Pokemon cards. My little brothers were in on that one.

What crazes causes problems in your school? Do you find it as exciting as I do to play with a fidget spinner?