Five Hundred, Twenty-Five Thousand 600 Pictures

1st October FHE = discuss eternal families and play Duck Duck Goose

2nd October FHE = make sugar cookies

3rd October FHE = make witches' bones

4th October FHE = finally get to the pumpkin patch at the mall because it's actually not raining.

... and keep trying, no matter how much this whole jumping thing sucks when you're little.

Throw a few trips to Disneyland in there to enjoy the Halloween Decor

P.S. We haven't decided if we're fans of the new "Nightmare Before Xmas" atmosphere characters... Jack's head is kind of creepy).

Friday = go to the ward Halloween Trunk-or-Treat Party

... and score the much-anticipated candy.

...and suck on a lollipop like it's the last meal you'll ever have

Saturday = get really excited that they let them wear their costumes to dance class.

Saturday Night = find some random event in a nearby city to get our Halloween fill since the actual holiday falls on the Sabbath.

...throw in some sugar-induced, overtired tantrums.
... and look wickedly adorable seconds later.

... and start to eat candy not even a minute after beginning the trick-or-treating.

... and take pictures, a la' myspace, because you're always the one with the camera.

... and enjoy the amazing hugs you've been getting over the last few days from your clingy toddler. (She squeezes really hard and says, "NUFF!" - meaning "love." I know. Cute, right)?

... and, for whatever reason, get overly-excited about the cheap mint you got from the guy at the asian food restaurant, despite a bag full of Reese's Peanut Butter Cups that will soon be, unbeknownst to you, offered as a payment to the parental units.

Sunday = Halloween - make Mummy Pizzas to make up for not going out trick-or-treating on the Sabbath, that both girls are too weirded out by to eat.

Display our taste-personalized pumpkins outside to welcome the crazies coming to steal candy.

Can you guess who's is who's.....? :)

Sunday Night = Go right to bed after watching "Beetlejuice" with the hubby, eating too much of the girls' candy, and spending far too much time uploading ridiculous amounts of pictures (You're Welcome, Mom).

I'm Frustrated With Mormons.

Not the Church, itself. Oh, heavens, no! The Church is true, the Church is true, the Church is true!

It's the people. And not all the people, mind you. Two specific groups of people within "the people."

And I hesitate in posting this, because I fear it will make me appear judgemental, which is something I'm daily striving to overcome (both the appearing and the being). But, at the same time, I feel as if the commenting on my blog has dwindled (where did everybody go?!), and being the narcissistic, attention-starved individual that I am, I figured I'd stir up the pot with some rantings.

Group 1 that irritates me:
The uber-elitist-self-righteous-radical-right-wing-types

I am, by no means, referring to those who are striving faithfully to abide by all the commandments. I am not referring to your Relief Society President or Bishop who might be really intense and strict with any and all doctrines.

Last week, there was some interesting "activity" on my Facebook page. I had posted a few links about the great "LDS Homosexual Debate." This brought some people who never comment on my page, out of the woodwork. It resulted, ultimately, in a small handful of my gay friends, who I'd known from my performing stint in Japan, to very openly "un-friend" me. One of them even went so far as to call me a "bigot." That stung more than the un-friending itself, to be honest.

But here was the kicker. I decided to go over the few posts I'd made that would've led to such a spontaneous outrage. After all - these people had known me for 10 years, now. They knew me as a Mormon with certain beliefs then, and a Mormon with those same beliefs now. Why did they, all of the sudden, decide I was the worst thing possible?

I could see it in the arguments being made by others on my profile page. There was a lot of debate and banter. But what irked me most was when someone representing the people of my faith would rant about the Atonement and the ability to repent in such a self-righteous, demeaning, flippant, intolerant, and aloof way. It wasn't that I disagree with them on the infinite and awe-inspiring power of the Atonement. It was that they spoke of it so casually. "You know? With the Atonement, just try, and God will take it away from you and you'll be attracted to women." They acted like it was just casual acceptance that was enough. And it came across more like, "I live such a perfect lifestyle that I am now going to aggressively impose upon you my infallibility and pretty much lift you onto a pole for a flogging, you perverted sinner, unless you take this pill to 'un-gay' you."

Ok - I may be exaggerating a little... a lot. But I get that way when I am frustrated that the reputation of the amazing Church of which I'm a member is being totally destroyed by the very people who pridefully assume they represent it so well.

I mean, it got to the point that I wouldn't be surprised if many of my non-member friends were beginning to picture groups of Mormons with their many wives, driving horse-drawn buggies, wearing those white pointy-headed sheets...

*sigh*

Group 2 that frustrates me:
The-over-dramatic-bleeding-heart-liberal-chooses-whichever-doctrines-they-feel-like-types

Due to the above passionate rantings, you may now be surprised to find out that these Mormons actually bother me MORE than the above. Because, even though the 1st group is ridiculously prideful and totally un-Christ-like, this 2nd group is even more prideful in that hypocritical way of trying to appear so humble and accepting.

*blech*

I get it, ok? I get the whole idea that we really should be more cautious as members of the Church in the ways we deliver our doctrine. And I get the whole idea that some people are even questioning the manner that we are handling this whole homosexual... "thing." And I get that some people even feel that the jargon of the some-what antediluvian apostles is a little antiquated... and even fear it's offensive. (sidenote: I love our apostles. I respect our apostles. I admire their strength and conviction. The end).

But guess what?!!!!

You can't pick and choose! This is the Lord's Church. And if you want to take it up with Him, then fine! But don't get on places like Facebook and make those of us who have the same struggle as you do in our hearts, but also choose to follow the wisdom and commandments of the Lord through His prophets, to look like we're some sort of Nazis! I can't stand it!

*pant, pant, pant*

It's one thing to be calloused and self-righteous morons. It's quite another to raise your hand to the square in support of those the Lord has called, and then turn your backs on them 6 days a week in a desperate attempt to appear altruistic. Who do you fear more?

"I know thy works, that thou art neither cold nor hot:
I would thou wert cold or hot.
So then because thou art lukewarm, and neither cold nor hot,
I will spue thee out of my mouth."
(Revelations 3:16)

See that? The Lord would pretty much rather you full-on get out (even if He has to vomit you out), then teeter-totter on the fence of "if I show that my bleeding heart is stronger than my faith, people will love me and I'll be popular on social networks."

Pick a side!!!

Now - I admit. I've had my own personal debates inside of myself (i.e. here & here), but I like to think (and hope) that ultimately the Lord knows that I am on His side and when all else fails - I follow His prophets.

I guess that means I lied about the whole "2 groups" thing. There's actually a 3rd group I'm frustrated with. This is the group I feel I belong to. The group of Mormons who like to think they are trying their best to love everyone and to feel compassion for all of their spirit brothers & sisters despite any choices being made, yet still fight earnestly and faithfully to keep the commandments and obey the prophet as he guides us through these CRAZY last days.

I'm frustrated with us because we aren't representing ourselves well enough...

She Really Did Just Play the "Jesus Card"

While driving home after dance class today:

Me: You are a silly girl, Malia.

Malia: (more silly sounds, faces, and notable chaos)

Me: You're crazy. We're going to have to ship you to an asylum.

Malia: (stops immediately) What's a "a-sly-em?"

Me: It's a special place where crazy people all live together.

Malia: But I have to stay here and live with YOU!

Me: (teasing - maybe a little too much) Sorry. If you're crazy, that's where we have to send you.

Malia: (brief pause and then...) But Jesus won't LET you!!!

Nicely played, kid. Nicely played.
I may very well have deserved that.

You're Welcome

A Rose By Any Other Name...

So, random confession time:

I don't like my name.

That is, I mean, I like my name... but not for me (I hope this isn't a surprise to my amazing mother. I'm pretty sure she's heard this complaint before).

Here's the thing. I didn't think much of it as a child. But then that wretched thing we call "junior high" came along. And my self-awareness became glaringly self-depleting. And as I was dealing very poorly with my personal self esteem and my contradictory desperation for acceptance while still retaining some element of individuality, I also came to realize a trend in the use of the name "Tiffany." It seemed to fit a certain.... "type" of girl.

Some visual evidence for your perusal:

1980s-one hit-wonder-turned-Playboy-model, Tiffany (known exclusively by her first name)

Kelly Packard: stint on "Baywatch" - played "Tiffani Smith" on a Saturday morning favorite of mine, "California Dreams"

The ultimate.
Tiffani-Amber Thiessen, otherwise known as "Kelly Kapowski."
"Saved By the Bell."

Admittedly, there are many more "Tiffanys" in this world. But as a girl who grew up in the late 80s-early 90s with pop culture shoving these examples of my name in my face, it just never seemed to fit me. Plus, I actually did know a few Tiffanys in the real world of life, and they were often very cute, very popular, very giggly, surrounded by boys... and maybe a little dumb.

Yeah. I said it.

And all of those things I just didn't feel I was.

Case in point.

P.S. I don't look the afore-mentioned "dumb" in this picture. I look psychologically disturbed. There's a difference.

Some of you may say, "Well, yeah! If that's the picture you're going to post of yourself... then of course!" But let's be honest, here. Most of you who know me at all, know the above girl.

Another reason I know my name just doesn't quite fit me is because of how quickly people feel comfortable referring to me monosyllabically. I become "Tiff" within 5 minutes of an introduction to me. Think for a minute. If you were addressing me in a typical and casual interaction, would you say "Tiffany" or "Tiff?"

I know, right?

I had a dance teacher at BYU, even, who just could not remember my name even weeks into the semester. Finally, one day, as I was leaving class, she stopped me and said, "I never have a problem with names. And it's not like you're a forgettable person. But I just can not remember your name. I know it at this moment. 'Tiffany.' But usually it totally leaves my mind and I stare at you thinking, 'What is her name?!' But I think it's because you don't seem like a Tiffany. Maybe you're more of an, oh, I don't know. An 'Ivy'."

Wow. Really? Like the poisonous plant? Perfect.

I've been asked before by the poor saps who are forced to listen to my kvetching, "Ok. So tell me. What name would you have given yourself?"

Honestly? No clue. I've thrown a few around in my head, and none of them really seem to fit me.

Until the other day, when I had an epiphany (the only English word, that I'm aware of, by the way, that actually rhymes with my name).

I was in the kitchen, doing dishes, when Cecily came running around the corner, her arms open wide, and grinning from ear-to-ear. She has these moments where she is exceptionally affectionate, and I love them. As she threw her arms around my knees and buried her face in between my thighs, giggling excitedly, loving me like I was the most amazing person in the world, I heard something that sounded like it fit.

"Mommy!"

And, all of the sudden, I realized, for the first time in my 30 years of life - that someone had gotten it right.