The Teens are noticing the disparity, and the girls are not happy...

One of my kiddo kids this weekend said
"Can I tell you one of my minor irks with Church?  The girls are always told to plan for marriage and babies and how to have a loving home, but the boys are taught to be successful, plan for success, get good jobs and be like Nephi"
"Honey, I've always thought of you more as a Nephi than Sariah"
"That means a lot to me, Mum, it really does".


Now, I have a girl-Nephi on my hands.
She rocks.
She is funny, intelligent, witty, serious, thoughtful, gentle, sporty with boy sports, she plans back up plans for her back up plans, she does not lose gracefully. 


She knows that it shocks people to see her truly be herself, so she protects you folks from all of that until you are ready, did you know that?  She's done that since she was 18 months old and saw the adults clutch their chest in wonder and exclaim to one another in astonishment as she discussed ideas and situations using full, fully understandable sentences.


She, in a loving way, is being told to prepare to give up "outside the home" ideas of success and make room for her male counterparts.
I do not see this ending well.


If you believe in a Loving Heavenly Father, who knew us from before the foundation of the world, he knew that Kiddo was formidable, he knew that her intelligence was second to very few on this planet, he knew that she had the fire of ambition in her belly.  Her personality, drive and determination were part of her from the day she was born.


Cookie-Cutter stereotypes are the less effective method of inspiring all of the daughters of Zion to reach their fullest potential.  It is stifling, uninspiring, and already she is facing opposition from within the Church from not so well meaning adults who think she should reign it in, all this competence and ambition.  Some folks get it, and help her reach her own goals and own potential.  If she choses to be a stay at home mum, more power to her elbow, I'll support her wholeheartedly because it is her choice and she has the Agency to do just that.


Here's my response to those who think they know what is best for her ....
Help, or move out of the way and be quiet.

Spending My Imaginary EuroMillions Lotto Win

It’s a Euro Lotto roll over this week, something in the region of £101 million Jackpot prize fund.

Someone on £10 per hour would have to work 10,100,000 hours to make that, that’s over 10 million hours.

My shonky maths estimates that to be 5,372 years at work, based on a 40 hour work week, with 47 weeks in the office per year.

5300 whole lifetimes of cash, moolah, dosh, not taking in to account the age of childhood or retirement.

I am sitting here like Homer dreaming of doughnuts – aaaahhhggggghhhh. 

We got to chit chatting about what we would do with such vast sums of cash.

In the past, people have told me that they would pay to have all their details erased from all records and go “off grid” in luxury for the ultimate privacy.

Bit extreme, perhaps.

Others have said that they would buy their loved ones cars, pay off their loved ones mortgages, take everyone on an all expenses holiday to somewhere fancy.

Feels a bit too much like making family and friendship a transaction, where the bought off person feels beholden to the rich person, no longer equals. I can foresee problems with this method.

Thinking about these riches that I haven’t earned is starting to make me appreciate the dilemma of Bill Gates and all the other folks who have amassed gargantuan sums. 

“Oooh, they’ve changed, they never come to the old neighbourhood anymore!”…

Ya know, is it because you kept telling them that they’ve changed when really they had the same ethics and morality and hopes and dreams as they did when you were all kids hanging out and riding bicycles together?  Who really changed their attitude and demeanour toward the now wealthy friend? 

Are you wondering what my solution would be?
I know I am!
So far, and this is a work in progress,

• tick the Stay Anonymous button
• buy a little bit better of a car and just say you got a good finance deal
• and put myself on a humble personal budget but knowing I was debt free
• I’d stay at work until the plan was in place

Since I was a little girl in Primary School, it has irked me that there is a homelessness problem.  Walking through London, my home city, as a kiddo always had the old cogs whirring. 
If I were to make my millions, on a Lotto I do not play, my heart’s desire is this:

1. Buy housing, do them up simply and recommission them
2. Make it a great environment with greenery, local services, access to the town and amenities
3. Start housing the homeless that wanted to, in these recommissioned place

On site, and full time, we would employ the following:

1. a Doctor to address the physical health needs of people leaving the streets
2. a social co-ordinator to address any anti-social behaviour issues and mediate to more acceptable conduct
3. psychiatric help to meet any transitional needs and help with whatever got them out there in the first place
4. a support worker service to help those that need and choose it learn to budget and plan ahead
5. an employment agency, specifically tasked with finding legal, appropriately paid work for those returning to mainstream society

Can you imagine a world where we sought out those who’d got themselves in a pickle and helped them get back on their feet?

It is my Nirvana.

Then I would take a holiday!

How do I help?

My friend has a problem.

This is a different “friend” than last week’s post.

My friend is the most genuinely confident person I ever knew while at the same time is terrified of everything.

Let me try to explain.

 

They would walk in front of anyone to protect those they love, and those they’ve never met who need help.

They would up sticks around the world to proclaim what they believed to be true for 18 months, frequently meeting hostility, frequently having the most amazing experiences they’ve ever known.

They would start over, time and time again with hardly a blink.

This friend picks up for the weekend and goes on adventures to discover new parts of the country.

This friend walks for fun, around reservoirs, through town, just walks long-ish distances.

 

They are afraid to walk to the corner shop in case they don’t make it fearing that their energy runs out and they can’t get back.

They are afraid to do the laundry in case they run out of energy and cannot complete the task.

They are afraid to change around the layout of their furniture in case they get part way through and cannot complete the task.

They are afraid to cycle with their family in case they can’t get back.

They are afraid to cook dinner in case they burn it.

 

The Macro / Micro expressions of courage and fear make my friend really tired.

They are conflicting.

 

Fear does not stop my friend.

They are often on the cusp of anger, a meltdown, a cry-fest, but these things do not stop them.

They cook the dinner, go to the corner shop for bread, do the laundry, change the furniture after procrastinating for weeks.

The fear does not stop the person on a long term basis but is debilitating and tiring.

 

They try to explain it like having a water barrel with a tap to draw down water, but fear that there are punctures and not enough water would remain, and what if there wasn't enough water in the container in the first place to provide enough water to keep folks alive?

They say that most things are easy, terrifying but easy once they co-exinstingly conquer the run-and-hide emotions and do it anyway.

They say the big stuff is easier than the little stuff.

They say the big stuff is a doddle by comparison.

 

I don’t know how to help this person.

 

The ugly side of friendship

Don't even know where to begin.
Friendship.  That tricky beast.
So long as people are at arms length and have no influence in a persons life, things run along swimmingly. 
More like friendly acquaintances.
It gets more tricky fun when people start to shape your world along with you. 
Shared experiences become your own history book, your own reference book. 
The lines of where you end and they begin become blurry. 
Loyalty. Dedication. Laughter. Love. Evolution. Devotion. Celebration.
Then one gets mardy.  Do you know that word?  It's a good word.
When the one gets mardy, the others look at each other with a "huh? was that just me? did I cause that?"  but no, it wasn't them, it was Mrs Mardy in a moody.
Then the moody mardy episode turns to a year long way of being and the others are all still concerned.  They refer to their friendship history book.  Wonder if there's anything they can do to help.  Offer genuine help.  Then they get resigned to the fact that Mardy now has new friends she can be a buddy with who don't know that she is being a cow to the older group.  They've yet to meet Moody Mardy.
You tell yourself that mardiness is born of fear, anger, upset, unfulfilled expectations, jealousy.
You try again to hash it out to little avail, while adding more love to the mix.
And you know what, you wish them well and you make sure you keep a plate in the cupboard for if they ever sort themselves out in the future, so that you know they'll be welcome at your table if they ever want or need to.

My first language is pictures...

I don't think in English.
Nor any other verbal language from any Country.


Thoughts come to me in pictures, images, symbolism.
Some strong thoughts arrive with an attached feeling, normally monkey brain caution stuff.


Then I have to translate that picture into language.


Until a couple of months ago, I didn't know that everybody wasn't doing that.


Weird, eh.

Diaries - That's not wot 'appened!

I heard the other week that when we remember something, we are actually remembering the previous time we remembered it, not the original event itself.
Not being a neurobiologist, I had a civilian root around and this seems to be the general consensus but I haven't conducted experiments myself to validate the findings.


I got to thinking how Mormons are encouraged to keep a diary, to record the daily event and also the insights that occur in their lives.  The big cheeses, le grand fromages, the head honcho's, as far as I am aware didn't say "you have to take a biro and write it on a piece of paper bound in a book for that specific purpose" so instead I have in recent years decided to email my diary updates to myself for printing.  I can type faster than I can write.  I am more often found at a keyboard that a writing bureau.  It works for me.


We move house quite frequently.  Since the age of 24 I've bounced around in a state of "this fixed abode isn't likely to be fixed for very long".  I chose to move every time.  Each time was for a good reason.  What it didn't foster, though, was a sense of permanence and of being able to settle in.  It's a running joke that if I'm not willing to carry it to the truck next time, it's not coming in my house.  Thus I have very few personal possessions.  What I do have, however, are earlier diaries, written by me when I was feeling particularly like recording what was going on.


Ladies and Gentlemen, I have a good memory.  I am pretty blessed with good recall, particularly if there is an audible element to the interaction.  However, when I read back over my diaries which have travelled with me all these house moves, I noticed that there had been a drift, a huge difference between what happened (what I'd written) and how I thought it happened (my 2015 memory of the event) and it is this drift which made me appreciate, for the first time, why it was good to keep a diary.  It is like having the opportunity to re-calibrate and get back to an authentic starting point, which is highly valuable and most definitely appreciated.


To revisit wonderful events such as the birth of a child, or what serving a mission was really like, what it was like to move from my home town to somewhere I hardly knew anybody, the wedding day, holidays, or how frustrated I was to live in a dusty and half renovated house, how liberating and life affirming it was during the time I was agnostic, how really furious I was at a huge bust up, or how this years health kick really will be the one to change everything added a richness to the memories I walk around with daily.


I am also someone who is immensely frustrated at not being able to see the end from the beginning.  It is a physical pain, a torment, and makes me want to sharpen a biro or two.  It is a common phrase among my friends "the end from the beginning".  The diaries I found in a suitcase of books from the most recent 3 house moves helped me see a pattern over a period of years - not the day or two I was hoping for when in the midst of challenges - of how things panned out, how with consistent effort and attention we worked through everything thus far.  I love meme's and one of my favourites is "I have a 100% track record of getting through rough times".  The diaries are evidentiary support of this simple idea.  I have gotten through the bad, I have always and vigorously embraced the fantastic, I have a happy habit of seeing the good, and even on the days where I make a nest in a pile of duvets and cannot be coaxed out for love nor money it all worked out ok.  I can see in hindsight the times when I was loved and looked after.  I can see the unfolding of hopes, dreams and promises.  It is rather humbling to be taught by yourself in the present moment from a time in the distant past, like a voice from the dust.  I think I may try to be a little more diligent going forward.

Some days are just too flipping lovely

Today one of my kiddos had their first YW class presidency training meeting. This kiddo takes her responsibilities very seriously and for that I am one grateful momma. It bodes well for the future.
Today was also an amazing day for me, and I am torn between blabbing my head off and respecting the other peoples privacy. I had a catch up with a cousin.
No great shakes, you say?
Ah ha! I see your 'no great shakes' and raise you an 'it has been almost 32 years since we hung out and our families met for the first time today'! I had such a relaxing afternoon and hope they did too. I am extremely happy that they have moved to be within an hour car ride of my home and I am so grateful for their gracious and easy hospitality. The kids got along like a house on fire too. 32 years felt like 32 days, now if that's not a glimpse of eternity I don't know what is.