Wednesday, May 18, 2011

Milking a cow- connectivity?

This is going to be comparatively brief.
For the last year or so I've decided I wanted to milk a cow. It just sounded earthy and cool, plus my grandma used to have a pet cow and she told me all about her.
Well, I got my chance today! I went on a field trip with the third graders to a farm in Logan, Utah and I got to milk a cow. It was glorious for some reason. I only got to squeeze her for a minute, so my new goal is to fill a bucket, or at least part of one- you know, a real milking.
 Her udder was really warm and soft, not quite like I expected. It was cool to see hands on where milk comes from. I mean obviously I knew where milk came from, but to feel it and to see it- woah. And here's the weird part that I hope someone out there gets besides me. It somehow got me feeling way less creeped out by breastfeeding. I mean, I'm a big supporter of breast feeding- it's the way to go, but it's always creeped me out. I mean, they're boobs!

I guess it's a part of the whole connectivity thing. I was connected to my food. I was connected to Earth and her beautiful creatures.  I was connected with my senses. I was connected with life. Connection led to understanding, and therefore a lessening of the creepy factor. Breast feeding is about connectivity between a mother and child. It's about survival. It's about life, Earth, senses, and beauty. It's interesting to ponder is all.

Tuesday, May 17, 2011

Music player: yay or nay?

Hello blog readers. I wanted to know your thoughts on the music player I added. I used to hate it when people had a music player on their blog, but recently I've started following two blogs (http://bmwphotographyblog.blogspot.com/ and http://maggiesprocess.blogspot.com/) with music players and it's been great! I've discovered several new delightful songs and found myself going back to their blogs just to listen. With their blogs as inspiration I made up a play-list and posted a music player. So, what do you say, keep it- or it's annoying? Let me know, your comments will make the difference.

P to the s, this wonderful song has been in my head all day! It's been delightful!

Monday, May 16, 2011

RAT TAIL BATTLE!!!

Recently I had the opportunity to coach some third graders for a elementary math competition (ironic considering how I hated math in H.S.). When we finally got to the competition I was brimming with pride for my students! I was beat read and I kept saying to myself, "I'm pleased as punch!" I nearly cried a few times! My third grade kids took 2nd in KRYPTO and 1st in Soma cubes. My fifth graders placed in Soma and Catapult (they build and fire a catapult made of newspaper, popsicle sticks, rubber bands, a spoon, and a 6-inch piece of string), and the sixth graders placed in Soma and Catapult. Pleased as punch was I!!!
BUT, I must admit, one of the highlights of the day way this:
On of my students (they're on the right) has a double rattail, much like this:
While one of the students from another school (they took 1st) had one big rattail:
 In my head I was screaming, "DOUBLE RAT TAIL BATTLE!!! EPIC MATH BATTLE! THREE RAT TAILS TOTAL!" Insert explosion noises here.
It was glorious.
What a joy I have found, I can't wait to coach something else!

I CAN DO EVERYTHING ON MY OWN!

I've been thinking about love again, big surprise. The other day my mother suggested that men like to do things for women, and perhaps my independence isn't always a good thing. Initially this really bothered me. I thought of the silly giggling girls who seem to snatch up all of the dates and immediately I went into defensive-mode. Thoughts like this started streaming through my head:
I said, "I don't need anything! I can do things myself, and anything I can't do now I can figure out and then do it myself." I asked some guy friends what they thought. They agreed with my mom, they like to do things for girls. I was still foaming at the mouth with my teenage feminist angst. 
 
I tried to think of things I wanted from men that I could not supply myself. I said, "I cannot grow beautiful chest hair. I cannot grow a glorious mustache. I cannot kiss myself- at least not properly." The angst continued, seeded in the fear that I would have to alter my behavior or personality to appear more like the giggly girls I saw getting dates all the time.
But then I started to think about one of the married couples that I currently look up to.
Marriage can be happy, peaceful, and eternal. I always knew it could be eternal, it's the other stuff I didn't get. When I was in the fifth grade my friend said to me in tears, "Your parents never fight! Mine are always fighting..." I remember feeling really grateful for my parents because it was true. Recently though, I think I understood how my friend felt that day. I've been hanging out at my friend Emily's house a lot. Her parents are amazing. They got married when they were about 30. They skipped a lot of the crap other people go through in young marriages. They do however wish they could have started younger sometimes (or so I've heard).
If Mrs. T needs something Mr. T jumps (literally) out of his chair and gets it for her. Mrs. T. does the same for Mr. T. They're not in competition and it's without guile. They genuinely want to help each other. They love each other so much and I can see their vitality and eagerness for life, and for their relationship. Their Christlike love extends to their children. When Emily gets home they immediately get up and ask what they can do for her. I wondered if this was an act for guests (though I could tell it wasn't) and asked Emily, "Are your parents always like that?..." Here I was, years later, in my friend from California's shoes. And here I was, thinking I knew so much about relationships (not that I've ever been in one) and marriage, learning something new.
I in no way want to speak ill of my wonderful parents, they mean the world to me. I saw their love for each other before my father's death, and I see it now after. But the desperate love and need for each other is more attainable than I ever imagined, and it doesn't have to wait for death. I can love my spouse completely. I can get along with him most (if not all) of the time. I can't really articulate what I've learned from the T's, but I think it ties into the question bouncing about in my head. Letting men do things for me doesn't mean I'm less than, it just means I'm humble enough to let someone help me. It means I'm willing to let someone in. The point is, love is real, love is in our reach if we give it freely.
Men like to do things for women.
A. I realized this does not mean I have to pretend to be a lot more giggly than I am (don't get me wrong, I have the sense of humor or a little boy and I love to laugh), or play dumb.
B. It's not about my being dumb and helpless, and therefore needing a man to do everything for me. I think it's about helping each other. Like Mr. and Mrs. T, it's not about one being helpless and the other babying them. It's about loving each other and doing as much as you can to show your love and assist them in any way you can (for me that might include growing a tender blond caterpillar above your lips). My mother pointed out that for her this realization had a lot to do with humility and accepting help from others (p to the s, my mom is dating and that's why she was thinking about this stuff too- you go mom!). 
It's not a demeaning thing to accept help from others. I love to serve- it bonds me to those I serve. When I'm having a hard time with someone I try to think of ways to serve them. I suppose I shouldn't deny men the opportunity to serve me. I need to close the high school debate door in my brain, and look at things from an eternal, humble, and logical perspective. When my sister cuts my hair I do not feel dumb or weak. When my brother works on my car I do not feel subservient. When my brother's and home teacher's give me a blessing I do not feel loved of God any less. On the contrary I feel closer to my siblings and my God for the services rendered.
So, is this idea of letting men do things for me, as a part to wooing them, such a bad thing. I don't think so. But let me get a few things straight. I am a strong woman, and I come from a strong line of women. I guess by traditional definitions (women have been mistreated in the past and it should change) I am a feminist. I guess I just see women from a gospel perspective, a perspective of adoration from God for all of His children, both men and women equally. I see myself as beautiful and strong, and I see men as beautiful and strong. I love dresses and makeup, but I also love poop humor and bugs. I love a strong man who is willing to work hard to lead his family with his helpmeet by his side. I see women in the priesthood and in the work of God. I believe that one day I will marry a lovely man in the temple and together we will rear a nice family. Together we will run 5ks, go on hikes, read books, travel, mud wrestle, camp, paint, work, clean, build, pray, worship, cook, scream, sing, dance, parent, serve, and love together. I don't know how I will get there, but I have confidence that I will- and maybe this knew thinking will get me closer. Find ways to serve others, and allow others to serve me.
And just for kicks and giggles:
"I'd be a lesbian for 50 cents." -Laura S.