In which I am deeply troubled

I've been thinking and thinking and thinking about how to write this post. I still feel pretty muddled about how to express myself, but I am just feeling so heated that I have to try.

I spent the weekend at Ward Youth Conference. Two days of sand and sun and giggling and dancing and oversharing. I have come to love my young women, each of them. It was a wonderful weekend. Save one thing.

Well, two things really, but they both tie together into one big thing that has me all hot and bothered, and not in a good way.

That thing is the way modesty is taught by many in my church, to both Young Women and Young Men. The message the Young Women are told is that they need to dress modestly to help men avoid impure thoughts. The message the Young Men hear is that they are not responsible for their thoughts or actions. The message the Young Women hear is that they are.


This is a heavy burden of responsibility to place anyone's shoulders, but especially on those of our already-fragile teenage girls. It's not enough that women have to be responsible for their own salvation, but apparently we are also responsible for securing the salvation of the men around us. We are taught that we dress our bodies merely for either the benefit or damnation of men. If we are revealing in dress, it is to arouse men. If we are modest in dress, it is to ensure proper thoughts in men. Must everything we do be because of what men expect or want us to do?

At it's best, this line of thinking completely neglects the teaching of the actual doctrine behind modesty and affirms the notion that women exist for and at the mercy of men. This angers me in so many ways, but what really terrifies me is what happens at the worst of this line of thinking. The worst is the fear I feel for the young woman (women, if we're being statistically accurate) who is sexually assaulted and is then made to feel that she "brought it on herself" by dressing "provocatively." It is the terror I feel that young men are hearing that they are weak and can't be expected to be held accountable when a woman, heaven forbid, shows her shoulders. It is the message that a man just can't help himself when a woman "teases" him, and that what happens as a result is what "she had coming."

And that is not okay.

What's bothering me even more than just that is that when these messages were preached (in a slightly different way but implied and inferred nonetheless), none of the youth hearing them seemed bothered. Which means they have heard it all before. It did not surprise me, as it is something that I remember being told from my days as a teenager in the church (and being angered by it even then), but it does anger me, and trouble me. How can we be doing all this damage? And what can I do to stop it?

I have some other specific issues that are still bothering me that relate to this, but this is the biggie, and it's what's been eating away at me for 2 days. Maybe someday I'll work through my other issues from this weekend, but for tonight I could really use some... something. Insight? Advice? Understanding? Prayers? Revolution? I don't know. Something. I'm feeling the heavy, heavy burden of loving these crazy teenagers and hurting for them and trying to figure out how to teach them and lead them to Christ and help them love themselves. And it's pressing down on me hard-core.

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negative nancy

My blog has threatened to take over and start writing itself if I didn't hurry and post something (and it assured me in no uncertain terms that I would not like what it had to say), so here I am. Obligatory? Maybe, but beggars can't be choosers, don't look a gift horse in the mouth, and all that shtuff.

I'm an Oregonian now, and about 2 hours ago, when I first attempted to sit down and spit out a blog post, you probably would have gotten a post akin to an Oregon travel brochure: it's so green and beautiful (it is), the weather is temperate (actually I'm sitting inside with the screen door open and bundled up in a hoodie and sweatpants...), farmer's markets almost every day of the week totally ROCKS (it does), my backyard is a garden wonderland (also full of mosquitos, flies, ants, and spiders), we have a hot tub (that has cost us roughly 3.2 million dollars to get up and running...), and we love everything about being here. However, I have dealt with some truly despicable people today and I am now really grumpy. So you get the Grinch version of the story of our relocation.

The (terrible) moving company underestimated our shipment size and so they ran out of room on the moving van. We have now been waiting on a kitchen table and other "nonessentials" for over two weeks, with no delivery date in sight... Also, my beautiful blown-glass pitcher we bought in Mexico on our honeymoon was shattered in the move. And my George Foreman grill broke. And I'm missing a box including a silk plant and who knows what else (since the movers so helpfully labeled boxes with very descriptive markings such as, "storage items," and "garage items"). Also, they totally scratched up our bookshelves, but because they had them wrapped in their blue blankets when they carried them inside, I didn't notice until after they left. So, awesomely, they got away with it! And, they left black marks all over the carpets we had had professionally cleaned the night before.

The (horrible) company that the (terrible) moving company contracted out to set up our washer and dryer didn't do their job! When we ran our first load of laundry in 2 weeks, the washing machine basically danced across the floor, tearing up the laundry room flooring! Awesome. We then had a load of half-washed clothes (because I had to turn it off during the spin cycle or risk more dancing washer maneuvers) sitting in our washer for a week! Yay mildew smell! How I love you!

The (no good) previous owners of this house "forgot" to disclose (on that little old legal document aptly entitled "Seller's Disclosure Statement") that the dryer vent that runs under the house is actually full of water and not venting properly (or at all). And while we're on the subject, not one but two (very bad) house inspectors didn't notice this small problem either! I'm so glad we paid all that money for them to (not) do their jobs!

The (no good) previous owners of this house also lied about the hot tub being in working order. And their very very honest realtor is doing a nice job corroborating their story and covering for them in her very skilled Legalese.

Meanwhile, our crappy internet, which claims to be uploading at speeds of 7 mgps, keeps freezing up on me (and won't let me view pictures on facebook, which, let's face it, is one of the main reasons to have the internet these days!). And half the time Netflix doesn't work. Luckily we are cancelling this piece of poo and getting Comcast in a few days.

Also meanwhile, my kids are going bonkers and I have had it with tantrums.

Welcome to Oregon, suckers.

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Pulling my hair out

So remember how in my last post I credited "1-2-3 Magic" for the recent decrease in yelling at my house?

Yeah. In reality it was the flu.

Now that Squeak is feeling better again, his misbehaviors have returned, and believe it or not I think they used his sick body as a host and multiplied! Either that or he is feeling the need to make up for how calm and cooperative he was during his illness... He has been worse than ever. And I am really struggling to keep my cool. The main thing that I was loving about 1-2-3 Magic was the practice of "No talking, no emotion." However I am finding it almost impossible to remain emotionless when Squeak's M.O. all day long is the following formula:

1. Run up to Pixie. Flail arms in her face. Make sure she is wailing before running away again.
2. Run up to Pixie. Take whatever toy she is playing with. Play with it for 3.2 seconds, or just long enough to set her off into major tantrum mode. When Pixie is crying sufficiently hard enough to not be calmed, abandon toy, throwing it across the room.
3. Follow Pixie anywhere she goes to escape the torment. If possible, follow her with a chair, trashcan, or laundry hamper closely nipping at her heels or pushing her from behind. The more annoying physical contact the better!
4. Play with a toy. Leave Pixie alone to play with a different toy. Give Mommy the false sense that she can leave the room to load the dishwasher. As soon as Mommy walks out of the room, abandon toy and take Pixie's. Repeat step 2. When Pixie, instead of throwing yet another tantrum about her stolen toy, goes to take the toy you abandoned, freak out at her, screaming, "I was PLAYING with that toy! I HAD IT FIRST!" Take said toy away from Pixie.
5. When Mommy sends you to time out for screaming and yelling and taking toys, hit her in the face. When she increases your time out and sends you to your room, pick up the nearest hard toy and throw it at Pixie.
6. Try your hardest to get your Mommy to kill herself and you.
7. Repeat steps 1-6. All day long. Ad nauseum.

I don't know what to do about him. Is having more than one kid supposed to be this hard? I expected the occasional (and even often) sibling scuffle. I didn't expect the constant pestering. I can't handle it.

And because I am in a horrible and complaining mood, I'll add my other frustration. Pixie's constant nursing. It is out of control. She is nursing more frequently than she did as a newborn, by far. It is really all day long. She is up and down and up and down, in and out of my lap, asking for nursies. ALL.DAY.LONG. AND she is waking up every 1-2 hours at night suddenly, wanting to nurse. As soon as she's not sick anymore, the night-weaning is ON. And hopefully once I am sleeping through the night once more I will have more patience to deal with being a mother.

But for today... Stick a fork in me, I AM DONE.
(sadly...really, really sadly...it's only 10:45 am. And my dear husband doesn't get home tonight until after the kids are in bed. It is going to be one loooooooooooooong day.)

I'm Annoyed (Part One, because I get annoyed easily)

You know what really bugs me?

~When both kids are asleep, and the husband is at work, and the only thing I want to do is watch a show, and it won't load (since I do all my tv-viewing online).

~Being woken up in the middle of the night by my husband's groping hands. It was a little fun and flirty and exciting in those few rare months that I was actually sleeping through the night, but now that I am waking up constantly to tend to two children, the last thing I need is another person waking me up wanting something from me...