Am I a Mother?

A mother is someone who, when there are 8 pieces of pie and 9 people, says, "I'm not hungry."

You guys ever heard that before?  I've remembered it since the moment I heard it because it struck me to the core. 

Clearly I am not a mother.

Cause you know what?  The mother in that quote, she probably made the freakin' pie.  And if I made a pie, you better BELIEVE I'm getting a piece of it.  You know who should go without?  The 2-year-old who couldn't care less if he gets a piece of pie or a piece of candy.  How does that not make sense?! 

Even if I expand this quote out to apply in a more general sense, I fail hard core.  My needs certainly don't come last.  Ever.  It's just not what I do. 

I started looking around.  In the circles I occupy, mothers give all they have and then some to their kids.  They don't wonder why they do it, or feel stuck in a rut.  They just give and are happy to do so.  Conference talks define these women, and it comes naturally to them.  All these characteristics of wonderfulness, then, were bestowed upon them at birth, ...  I clearly was standing in a different line in the Pre-existence when God was handing out personal characteristics.

I decided, over time, and with a smidgen of guilt, that I was simply not a mother.  Or, I guess, not the right kind of mother.  Not the way a mother should be.  Not a real mother.  However you want to put it.  Other mothers were Something Great and I was Something Less Than Great.

And while I have always known this about myself, I finally stopped fighting it:  I am a selfish person.  If selfless mothers give and give and give and don't think about themselves for a moment, then I obviously am not selfless.  I am selfish.

So imagine my delight and surprise when, as I was reading a required text for an on-line BYU class, I read this quote:  "Other-centeredness is the capacity to care for others and the maturity to allow others' needs to become equal or greater in priority than one's own."* 

Did you catch it?  EQUAL.  I did a double-take.  This means, then, that I can be a good mother if all I do is put my kids' needs on the same plane as my own?  Well, did and done!

So take a moment and be happy for me that I have re-claimed my Good Mother status.  I get a piece of pie, the baby gets a piece of candy, and everyone is happy.  As it should be.

* Quote from Young Adulthood and Pathways to Eternal Marriage by Jason S. Carroll

Don't Mention It

Tonight I had to go to a scholarship recognition dinner.  When I arrived and looked at the program, I saw that each scholarship recipient would be called by name and asked to come to the front of the room for recognition.

Wait.  Say what?

I know.  At this point you're wondering what I thought would happen at a recognition dinner if not recognition.  I thought, you know, that maybe I would sit at a table and chat politely with faculty and scholarship donors.  That's no problem.  But walking to the front of the room while everyone claps? 

I was in instant anxiety zone.  Seriously.  Looking at the exits.  Wondering if it would be believable that I had to go to the bathroom right this very minute.  Weighing the pros and cons.  Would it embarrass my husband if I left?  Would it embarrass the college president?  Would my friends who attended wonder what happened to me?

So I went up there.  Smiled.  Nodded.  Took a picture with the group.

I don't know why this bothers me so much.

You know, one time I was at a different scholarship recognition night, a long time ago, and the presenter asked the crowd to give me a STANDING OVATION while I walked to the stage and grabbed my medal.  A standing ovation?  Really?  I was pissed.  Seriously on fire pissed off.

You're thinking, "Tamra, this isn't a big deal."  I know it shouldn't be!  But it is for me.  I really, really dislike recognition.  Particularly of the stand up and walk across the stage, smile and grab your award while everyone claps for you variety.

I don't know where these feelings come from.  I can't put into words what it is about these events that influences me so.  It's something about a lot of things, I guess.  The recognition isn't personal.  It's for show.  It's not on my terms.  I get lumped with a group with whom I share nothing other than that we all recieved some amount of money from some group and we all attend Cincinnati State.  And then people who don't know me are clapping for ME.  No, that's not right.  None of this is right.

...

Clearly I have issues.

Election Confession

Yesterday I dutifully went to the polls, filled out my ballot, and turned it in.  A nice older woman thanked me for voting as she offered me a sticker.  I said, "Yeah.  Whatever."  This year no one should thank me for voting.

Rob and I moved to Ohio in the summer of 2004, just in time to vote in an election where our voice actually mattered.  Before then we'd lived in Utah, which is crimson on the policitcal spectrum.  No need to bother voting there.  So when we moved to Ohio we were excited, optimistic, and eager to learn about the candidates and issues and then go vote responsibly.  I quickly decided that being informed was difficult, but well worth it.  I promised myself that I would always care deeply and vote consciously.

That resolve was doomed to fail.  I should have known that about myself.  I should have seen the truth well before I made the personal promise. 

The 2012 election season killed my political insides.  Not only am I older and more skeptical, not only have I always been politically disillusioned, but I also live in Ohio, which was the Swingiest State of All this time.  The state that got all the attention. 

You guys who live in Blue or Red states, you don't know how lucky you have it. 

I didn't want to vote.  I probably wouldn't have even gone in if my local school district didn't have a levy on the ballot.  But they did, and no matter how I feel about politics, I care about that.  So I went.  I thought about voting for only that issue and none of the others.  I thought about voting for President, then the school levy, and none of the others.  But I couldn't do it.  I had to vote for them all.

This was my first time voting Angry.  It's when you go like this:  "Two guys on the ballot.  I've heard this guy's name more.  I'm voting for the other guy.  Next, three guys on the ballot.  That one sent me so much nasty junk mail.  That other one had a sign when I walked in.  I'm voting for the third guy, the one I've never heard of."

I voted straight Other Guy.

The issues weren't any better.  I voted, "Hell, no, you can't have my money.  What are you going to do with it anyway?  Leave me alone!" The only exception was that school levy.

I'm not proud of the way I voted.  I'm just saying that's how it went. 

Before 2016 I'm moving to another state.  Red or Blue, I don't care which.  Just some place where my vote doesn't matter.

Mission Fund

On Saturday I was at the zoo, doing a something with some people, walking around with 2 friends, and I got a text from my husband.  It said, "Women can now go on missions when they're 19.  And men when they're 18."  I instantly smiled and almost shouted, "Awesome!"  Which, of course, made my 2 friends ask me what was so awesome.

And here's where I found myself stuck.  These 2 friends are not Mormon.  What do I tell them?

So I explained a little about missions and how young men typically go at 19 and young women have to wait until they're 21.  Now that the rules have changed, more young women will be able to go.  This is a great thing for everyone.

But this isn't all that needs explaining.  The next part that I always tell people is about my Hyper Traditionalist church.  I like being Mormon, no doubt.  I believe it heart and soul.  But we stay pretty far behind the times, you know?  I mean, more equality for women?  The nation caught that vision a while ago.  Hurray for Mormons for finally figuring it out!

I mean, I'm pretty straight-laced.  I don't do all that stuff on the Don't List and I usually do all the stuff on the Do List.  But I'm not a Do What You're Told type.  My life may look traditional, but I don't feel traditional.  I ask a lot of questions.  I'm not afraid to be bold.  So sometimes the traditional-for-the-sake-of-being-traditional stuff really irks me.  I feel like my church lags behind the modern age because ...  because ...  because ...  huh.

And that's what kind of missionary I am.  "My church just made a great call that's drasticly behind the times!  ...  I really like being Mormon, I promise."


On a related note, my Kids' Mission Fund suddenly needs an extra $10,000.  Miciah heard the news and instantly said, "Great!  I'm going."

Soccer Bag - Stolen Conversation #43

You guys remember the bag I bought and then sewed my awesome soccer patches all over?  The one I mentioned in this post?  Well, I had the best conversation ever about my bag and I wanted to share.  It was between me and my 6-year-old nephew.

Jaden:  Is that your soccer bag?
Me:  No, it's actually my school bag.
[pause]
Jaden:  Do you go to soccer school?

Stolen from Jaden, pictured here with his father, July 2009

Stolen Conversation #42

I was driving in the car with Tank and he saw a bicycle with a baby/kid carrier hooked to the back.  The kind that rolls along the ground and looks like it's made entirely of mesh.  This conversation followed:

Tank:  Look, Mom!  It's a bike with a carriage.

Me:  Yep.

Tank:  There's a baby in there.

Me:  Yeah.  That's because the kid is too small to ride a bike himself.

Tank:  Yeah. ...  The baby is riding along like "Ooh, I'm watching a movie," and the dad is like "[panting noise], [panting noise], [panting noise]."

And that cracked me up.

Things I Want / Is it Worth It?

Not sure it's worth it to buy this awesome bento box, but it's SO cute!:

Come on, Elijah would go CRAZY over this lunch box.  But it would be $60 to upgrade our school lunches ($20 per kid).  Plus, let's be honest, I'd want one, too.  Worth it?

These shoes:

My barefoot shoes are slowly dying, though I can probably get another year out of them.  The ones I have are AWESOME but are no longer available in the same sweet colors.  Plus, these ones actually, you know, look like shoes.  They're $90.  Worth it?