Didn't We Say "We Would Never Forget?"

I heard someone say recently, that "today is the last day I'll discuss, commiserate, or otherwise mourn the events of 9/11. Seven years is long enough." While I agree that it has been some time, and that moping and mourning about a tragedy does us no good after a certain period of time has passed, but who decides that length of time? And it's different for everyone. Obviously, as I was in a different country during the events of that day, I felt strangely disconnected and wanted desperately to find a way to connect to everyone who was here. There are others (i.e. my Japanese employers) who thought of it as "just another day. Get to work." And then there are those (family members, coworkers, and friends of those lost, public servants) who I think will never forget... and probably don't want to.

But he was somewhat right. I do not want to dwell on the events of the past. I've been trying to develop a better ability to avoid hindsight, for hindsight is always 20/20 vision and can often depress me. However, there is no harm in using the past to learn things. And so, I would like to post an e-mail I sent out 4 years ago on this day. I learned something about myself that day that was a valuable lesson to me. And it's a lesson I am still working on perfecting in my life.

Subject: Lest We Should Forget

September 11th : 3 years later

I didn't even realize that today was going to mark three years since a tremendous tragedy, until yesterday, and that made me feel so ashamed.

I think back to 3 years ago and the pain, loss and tragedy that happened in our country. I think back to 2 years ago and the prayers and remembrances. And even last year, there was a beautiful memorial, telecast all day long. Yesterday I wrote the date on the top of my notes for class: 10 Sept 2004... and that was the first time I realized what day it was soon going to
be.

I was so embarrassed when I realized that I called myself a patriot, and had almost forgotten the day that caused me to turn to that portion of my heart. I felt selfish as I watched a report on the children in Beslan, Russia... over 300... dead.... and hardly anyone seems to care.

I wonder if patriotism can extend beyond a love for our country and become a love for all mankind. I found myself wanting to tell the Russian man featured on a small, seemingly insignificant, CNN report, who had lost his three children and his wife recently in the explosion of a school that it will be okay. "I'm sure you think it will," he might say. "When it happened to you, everyone actually cared."

In remembrance of what happened to us, let's pull outside of ourselves... just this once. Yes, a terrible thing happened to us, and we wailed and gnashed our teeth. Why, when it happens to others, do we not expect ourselves to care the way we expected to be cared about?

Just a thought...

God bless America.... God bless all mankind. God bless us to use His blessing to serve our brothers and sisters everywhere.

That is my prayer on this day : 3 years later. Find a new meaning to patriotism.

And today? I reiterate...

When Trials Become Blessings

Last night, I received a phone call from a newspaper reporter from my podunk hometown. Apparently, 3 of the 15 finalists for this "Wannabe Wicked" competition I'm doing are all from Apple Valley (where I grew up). The other 2 girls still live there. As he was asking me how I got involved in the competition, I was reminded once again of my experience with the show 2 years ago, when I was called back for Elphaba multiple times and found myself turning down any possible "opportunity" for the sake of being a mom to my wonderful Malia.

Some moms probably could've done both.

I am not one of those moms. Here's why -

Colic.

Colic. Colic. Colic.

Malia has been a joy to my life for 2 years now. But... she's 2 and a 1/2. There is a 1/2 a year of her life, at the beginning, where "joy" was the last thing I would've used to describe her. Harsh? Yeah - I know. But until/unless you've been there, you can't really understand.

But this post isn't about how hard colic made my life. I mean, I've dragged that through the mud and back... a few times. Besides, I don't think I need to talk about how crazy it was when pictures can be worth a thousand words:




Ah, the memories...

Last night as I was laying in bed, wide awake due to a wonderful head cold I've recently come down with and baby kicking me like Jackie Chan (so I had some chocolate... so what?) I was thinking back on how well Heavenly Father knows us. His allowing me to go through colic for as long as it was and as severe as Malia's case truly was, well, let's just say He knew exactly what I'd be learning from it.

I've decided to share the amazing blessings that came from the most tramautizing period of my life:

*I learned selflessness. My life was no longer about me. Of course, all mothers learn this lesson fairly quickly... but I think I was given the AP night school accelerated version of the class. All I wanted was to figure out how to improve Malia's life. My life was no longer a priority.

*David & I learned humility. It's amazing the horrendous things you are willing to say to someone you love when you have to do it at 3 in the morning in a voice loud enough to be heard over blood-curdling infant cries. We said sorry to each other... a lot.

*Being willing to apologize to a child. The multiple times I found myself apologizing to Malia for "letting her cry" and for looking at her with disdain and for desiring to physically do things (which I never did, mind you) were very enlightening to me as a parent. I hope I hold onto that perspective as she gets older. I want to be the kind of parent who is willing to step down from my place in order to say I'm sorry when it's necessary. I think children deserve that kind of honesty & humilty from a parent.

*Repentance. To this day I am still apologizing to God for the things I said to him in the wee hours of the night in my deepest, darkest anguish. But, the plus-side is... I think all the practice is making me good at it.

*Understanding what my purpose is. I had every intention of being a Broadway star. Even after Malia was born, I've pursued things briefly here & there. But I am always brought back to "ground zero," which is my little family. No amount of applause or fame could possibly compare to the fulfillment of being needed by my husband and child. There are days I lose that perspective, but I'll be darned if I don't always know it somewhere in the depths of my soul. It is so much better. I don't see it as a sacrifice at all... because I definitely have the better end of the deal. I am a wife & mother. Best. jobs. ever.

*I had to learn to take help. At this point, I want to give a shout-out to the most awesome ladies of the BEST ward in the UNIVERSE... Relief Society ladies of BYU 148th Wymount Ward 2005!!! Can I just say, they took my bitter rantings like a grain of salt. PLUS - they passed around a paper every week where they would sign up to take Malia for one hour every day so that I could find some semblance of peace in my life. I'm touched by it even just thinking about it, now. Those phenomenal sisters looked past my rugged, stubborn exterior and saw a desperate woman in need... a woman who is terrible at allowing people to help her do anything. I've always been far too independent for my own good. They wouldn't take no for an answer. Same time every day, a new sister would show up at my door and whisk the screaming child away. An hour later, they'd bring her back, Malia screaming at the top of her lungs, and the looks of pure apology on their faces were priceless. But they gave me a chance to miss my daughter. That one hour a day, I was given a chance to realize I did actually love her.

God really does know us...

Dr. Tiffany Nutter, PhD. in Sleep

I read at least 1/2 a dozen books on sleep when Malia was little. (Yes, I read every single one of those pictured above.... cover to cover... some of them 3 or 4 times). Book in one hand, screaming baby in the other. Book after book after book, I was trying to find the magic answer to solve all the woes. I finally transferred to an awesome pediatrician (holla, Dr. Brinton!) who said to me, "Your child has severe colic. Probably the worst I've ever seen. Accept that these methods you are reading about will. not. work. for. her." So, it was a relief to know I wasn't just an idiot failing miserably, trying all of these things, and my child getting worse, instead of better. Turns out my kid was the lovely exception to all of the rules.

However, once her colic was miraculously taken care of by an amazing Chiropractor (holla, Dr. Thompson!), she had the most deplorable sleeping habits. The child had gotten used to waking up, literally - not an exaggeration - every 45 minutes to an hour all night long. So, I put my knowledge to work. I combined everything I'd read into what made the most logical sense to me. And, after about 3 months, things finally came to a glorious place (Malia still sleeps the maximum amount of hours for a child her age). I had even become the ward sleep specialist. I had moms coming to me with the sleep problems of their children... admittedly, it would get a little frustrating to hear that my advice had made differences for them overnight, whereas, it had taken me 3 months with my own child. Oh well. *sigh* Glad I could help.

HOWEVER, throughout all of my reading, I gained an incredible insight on sleep in general... not just for my child. Adults really do not truly understand the importance of sleep... especially American adults. It is crucial to our physical, mental, and emotional health. It really is! And I have become almost obsessive about getting my 8 hours of sleep ever since.

Problem is, ever since Malia was born, I've had a terrible time sleeping through the night myself. Even once she began finally doing it consistently, I have since become my worst nightmare: a frequent night-waker.

It sucks!!!!

Ok, so get this... 2 months ago, I slept through the night FOR THE FIRST TIME since Malia was born! She's 2 1/2, mind you. I was so HAPPY! I woke up for the first time since falling asleep, completely shocked that the sun was already up. I felt more tired then usual when I woke up, probably because my mind was thinking, "Yes, YES! More!" I was anticipating a great new change in my sleep patterns. Finally, I'll have the energy I've been lacking. I'll be a much more stable and happy person! Yes! SLEEEEEEP!

3 days later I found out I was pregnant.

I've been up every night since, already, with frequent trips to bathroom.

Some things are just not meant to be...

Today? I Hate Celebrities.

Last night, I watched my first "American Idol" episode of this season. I used to be addicted to the show, but I guess after so many years, its lustre has gone dull. But last night was "Idol Gives Back," which is basically a telethon for a gazillion charities they decide to focus on. I wanted to watch it mainly for celebrity appearances and performances. The highlights:

*Fergie singing with Heart. The chic (Fergie) has some serious vocal weaknesses (singing quiet sounds like a chore for her) but she hit the high notes amazingly well and she is a great performer.

*Jimmy Kimmel talking about Simon Cowell (seriously - where does the man get that terrible haircut)?

*Robin Williams as a Russian auditioning for American Idol. I don't care if he has ADHD... it's funny ADHD.

*All of the clips/short stories about African children and AIDS & malaria (I'll elaborate more on this later).

Now, the explanation for my celebrity loathing:

Don't sit there and try to pour out your "bleeding" hearts & souls to me and try to squeeze insincere, desperate emotion through your plastic tear ducts with that smug expression that cost you millions alone just for the stylist who did your hair!

It just really irritated me last night.

And it has before.

Every time I watch these things about what's going on around the world, I get incredibly emotional. We live in such bubbles. I forget that so many of God's children are suffering far beyond any suffering I've ever done. In fact, poor David came downstairs for a minute last night to see me, a disheveled heap on the couch, sobbing nearly uncontrollably.

I remember being 5-years-old, leaving the mall with my mom, and seeing a man in a wheelchair with both legs amputated, and out of nowhere, I started to bawl. I cried the entire ride home! I couldn't believe how overcome I'd become over my selfishness. And now that I'm a mother, it is even that much harder to watch these things with orphans and grandmothers raising their 8 grandchildren because all the parents have died of AIDS and these little 18 month old wide-eyed darlings lying on a gurney because they have malaria due to the lack of $10 mosquito nets. (Holy run-on sentence, Batman!... that's what happens when I get emotional).

But these CELEBRITIES! *GAG!* I mean, they are the last people I want to hear from about reaching into my heart to help others. Honestly? I pay an honest tithe AND fast offering... which I can hardly afford what with a new mortgage. And these people are flying in jets and buying 5 million dollar homes and staying in $2000-a-night suites while eating caviar and sushi and paying their assistants ludicrous amounts of money just to order them a pizza! Don't try to guilt me into looking outside myself!

I don't know what it was that got me so irked. I mean, I even surprised myself with how mad I was getting. I think I was feeling taken advantage of.

"Here. Look at these heart-breaking pictures of these beautiful children, dying and starving, desperate for a pair of shoes, parentless, educationless, and hopeless.... now GIVE US YOUR MONEY! Meanwhile, I need a pedicure and have to go pick up the check for $50,000,000,000,000 that I got for flaunting my beautiful body and saying the F-word, so that I can pay the mortgage on my 5 houses, all on different coastlines."

Listen, you hypocrites! I pay my fast offerings every month! It may not be a lot... but I do it, every month, without hesitation! Don't you come to me all holier-than-thou and smug because you "appeared for free" (who cares?) at a function in L.A., where you live anyway, so that people could applaud you and see you as so giving! You wanna' give? Why don't you go around the block to the homeless guy eating garbage from the dumpster behind the theatre that you so "selflessly" appeared at for free, and hand him the title to one of your homes? I mean, it's not like you ever sleep there!

Bah.

*ptooey!*

Shouldn't've watched the darn show.

I need to read more.

I'm aware that it's ultimately my decision...

... but I always like to get advice from the fam & friends, 'cause lots of times you're just smarter then me.

Most of you know (in fact, with my blabber mouth, it'll be a miracle if any of you DON'T), that I got really close to being offered my dream job/role a little over a year ago. But for those of you who haven't heard about it (again, that would be miraculous), it's STORY TIME!


On a whim, after driving for 3 hours through paralyzed traffic on the 101 in the heart of L.A., a drive that usually only took 1/2 an hour from my house, with a restless 10-month-old fussing in her carseat, I auditioned for what was going to be a brand new production of "Wicked" opening in L.A. I simply walked into the audition, exhausted and irritated... and it didn't help that I could hear my child, who was dealing with severe separation anxiety after the move to California, screaming outside while my sister tried to soothe her. I was in a terrible frame of mind and expected nothing more from the audition then a fun little experience. I sang my piece, and as I was fully prepared to smile, say "thank you," and head on my merry way, the casting director asked me if I knew any songs from the show. At that point, I proceeded to sing 3 more songs in a span of about 10 minutes.

He then asked me if I'd be available for a callback the next day for the part of the Elphaba understudy (the leads had already been cast long before the auditions). In complete shock, I stuttered through an explanation of being a stay-at-home mom to a child bound by a strict sleep schedule and a husband who worked 9 to 5. He said "fair enough" and called his assistant in. "See this girl?" he said to his assistant, referring to me. "She is a mommy with a tight schedule and a busy husband. I need you to take her outside and find whatever time possible that she could squeeze us in tomorrow."

Whoa.

Well, long story short (too late), I showed up at a callback the next morning. There I was, standing in front of a world-famous casting director, the musical director, and the director. At one point, the music director said to me, "All I want to hear on this song is sheer volume. Just do your best to fill the space with as much sound as you can."

Are you freaking kidding me?! Could this be any more perfect for me?

After my callback, which I felt went surprisingly well, the casting director asked me to wait outside. After a few minutes, he pulled me aside and asked me to come back AGAIN. He wanted me to come back the next day to see how well I could move at the dance auditions and to have the producers take a look at me. I could not believe any of this! Well, turned out I had a very important wedding to attend to the next day. I can't go into too much detail, but I felt very strongly that I just couldn't make too many sacrifices at this point. After I said I couldn't make it, he looked me dead in the eye, and asked me about 1/2 a dozen times, "are you sure?" I let him know.... I was sure.... "I think." He said, "Ok. We have your number then."

And that was that. Never heard from them again.

Didn't help that I later realized I hadn't updated my resume and that the phone number I'd listed was from out-of-state before the move, and was no longer mine.

I cried about it once or twice (or 50 times), but eventually came to peace with myself knowing it would have been nearly impossible what with the commute and also that, even though I would be with Malia all day, once her daddy got home, I'd have to jet... and we'd never be together as a complete family.

So, blah, blah, blah.

They're holding auditions in a week. Same bat show. Same bat place.

Do I go?

Do I deal, AGAIN, with possibly facing the decision of sacrificing our simple, humble, totally broke, yet beautiful current circumstances, for a blip of doing what I thought I always wanted? Motherhood is the greatest blessing in the world, and while I wouldn't be giving it up, I'd definitely be putting a strain on things.

.... help...

Good Intentions = Bad Girl

Have you ever known someone who is constantly trying to do the right thing, and it always ends up wrong? I mean, it's almost pathetic how this person overextends themself to be of service, or accepted, or admired, and they almost always foul things up for themselves in the process. These people just can't seem to get it right. But at the same time, it's as if no one knows this about that person. This individual can struggle 24-7 to do things out of the kindness of their heart, and, in the end, they usually end up doing what appears to be nothing but wrong.

Maybe some of you think you don't know a person like that. But, if you know me.... then you do.

Whenever people ask me to describe myself in one word, they usually smirk as if they know what the word will be. I guess they might be thinking, "Spaz" or "Goody-goody" or even "Eccentric." But I have always thought that there was one word that encapsulated my life struggles more then any other word out there.

"Misunderstood."

You know, this may seem a bit personal for a blog. It may be more of a diary-with-a-lock-that-I-stow-between-my-mattress-for-safe-keeping-&-self-insight type of entry. But there's a reason I'm putting this out there. The reason is this:

I have found in my life that I have hurt more people then I ever intended. How do I know this? Because I have hurt people, and I've intended to hurt zero. So, if you do the math, then it's there, plain as day. Characteristics of mine that are blatantly obvious are "loud" and "sarcastic" and "outgoing" and "need to be the center of attention." These things combined spell "D-I-S-A-S-T-E-R." But I have more subtle characteristics inside of me that are in constant juxtaposition to these. I am actually painfully shy at times and acutely aware of the needs of those around me. When all of these things combine, you get someone who uses her sarcasm and loudness to try to appease the spirits of her friends. I.E.? I usually hurt someone's feelings.

I hate this. I don't know how to fix this. All I know, is now that it's out there in the universe, maybe the universe'll send me a hint or a nudge.... something to help me fix it.

Until then, here's an infinite supply of "I'm sorry"s being thrown out to all of you for the next million times I am intending to show you love, and I flub it up somehow.

/sigh

Toddlers and colds

You would think the world is ending. Malia has tripped, bumped, bonked, and bruised almost all of her extremities, and it nearly never phases her. But give her the common cold... and LOOK OUT!

I don't know what it is, but at this age, it seems as if she gets sick at least once a month. Every time we overcome one and finally feel as if we are being settled back into normalcy again, a new one hits. And they always come back with a vengence.

Malia has a great sleep schedule. I mean, she OUGHT to. I only read through 10 books, went to a sleep specialist, survived colic, and worked my tail off to get her to that place. However, every time she gets a stuffy nose, we're doomed to night wakings. A couple days ago, Malia tripped and hit her head pretty hard. I mean, I heard it. I heard the sound of a head hitting the concrete. I picked her up and asked her if she was ok (I was convinced there'd be blood... there wasn't). She frowned a little, touched her head and said, "Bump da' head. Kiss it better?" So, I did, and she skipped off on her merry way. However, this morning, she has a little bit of snot trickling out of her nose and she is in pure MISERY. Where are these blasted viruses coming from?!

I blame nursery.

Ok... maybe that's a bit harsh. But where else is she getting the darn things?! I read something yesterday about how the firstborn in a lot of families are more prone to asthma and allergies because their immune systems are weaker and because parents are often overprotective of the first. Children who come along later apparently develop some sort of awesome immunities because they caught everything their older brother or sister brought home, when they were really young.

I've inspired myself. I'm going to take Malia on a walk.

... maybe let her eat some dirt or lick a sidewalk...

Was I really that bad...?

Today, when David got home from work, we went as a family to Disneyland for FHE. (Yes, it is a nice little thing, having annual passports and taking a ten minute drive to the Happiest Place on Earth).

As we were walking down Main Street, U.S.A. just before closing time, the music gave me flashbacks to a much different time in my life. I told David about how every time I visited Disneyland in the past, that the music on Main Street usually prompted me to act like I was in a parade.

"You mean, you would wave to random people?" he asked.

"No, I mean, I would start dancing like this."

And I began to dance down Main Street in a very lively, characterized manner to the turn-of-the-century ditty playing overhead. And for the first time in, oh, I don't know.... maybe my entire LIFE.... I was actually embarassed by myself! I can remember when I was younger, being so hyper and full of energy. Truth be told? I think I'm quite boring now. I find my self saying to people, "Oh, I've calmed down a lot," and they will look at me in shock and say, "You were worse?" People who haven't known me for years seem to be convinced that I am still a bit of a psychopath.

So, it got me to think. Was I really that insane? I mean, let's be honest. I was obviously hyper enough that I could eat more junk food in a day then most people average in a week, and still weigh only 100 lbs., which is obviously a gift I no longer possess, but STILL. I've come across some very energetic, allbeit, annoying individuals in my life. And I have to wonder.... could I have had a lot more friends had I toned myself down a bit?

I probably shouldn't be posting this on the world wide web, because I know many of you will be thinking, "Oh, praise the heavens! At least the woman isn't in denial!" But it's something I have to wonder. I've met some hyper folks in my life. I couldn't possibly have been one of the worst.... could I?

So I was a happy kid. So what?!

God Cherishes the Stay-at-home Mom

I've been pondering this a lot lately; especially since we've been living in California for over a year now, and it's so fiercely expensive. I may offend people, but I don't care anymore.

It is pure evidence that Satan wants to attack the family unit more then anything when mothers are no longer staying home. I am not commenting on the people who need 2 incomes in order to survive. I am more then empathetic to that situation. It's those who say, "Well, we couldn't afford our home if I didn't work," and they live in a 3,000 sq. foot home with a pool and a 3-car-garage! MOVE! Is it really more crucial to have a better home then the Jones' then it is for your children to be loved more then the Jones' kids?!

Anyone who knows me is more then aware of my desire to be out in the work force, whether it be performing or teaching. I feel as if I am a fairly creative person who, when given the outlet, explodes with enthusiasm to explore it. People who are close to me have heard over and over again how close I was to getting my dream job when we first moved here to CA. It was LITERALLY my dream job. And it paid well. And I could have stayed home with Malia during the day and then traded shifts with David as I worked nights. But as I thought about it, I imagined our daughter remembering her early years without ever seeing Mommy and Daddy at the same time. Not to mention the fact that it wouldn't allow for the possibilty of more children for a long time. So, I turned my back on the opportunity. And for a while, I was bitter. I felt like I had made an incredible sacrifice and I questioned it for a long time.

A few months ago, I pursued my dreams again. This time, instead of being offered the opportunity, I was flat-out rejected. I was concerned with how I would take it if that were to happen. I don't handle rejection well when it comes to my talents because, for the most part, I am rarely rejected. This rejection brought me an overwhelming feeling of relief. The moment they said "thank you" and I turned to walk to the car and head home, I was overcome with a calm, peaceful feeling. Something inside me said, "What are you doing? You HAVE a job. And it's the most rewarding and fulfilling job you will ever do. Sure it's hard. Sure it's humbling. Sure, it's pretty much the most unglamourous job a woman could have. But it's amazing and so worth it. And very few people realize this. How sad for them." As I held Malia that night before putting her to bed, I sobbed. But it was a happy cry.

All of my life, I wanted to be a star. I assumed I would be a mother, but that thought was put on the backburner because singing on Broadway consumed my thoughts constantly.

Motherhood came instead.

I have been given many opportunities to pursue the Broadway Dream and have called it a "sacrifice" when I turn it down. But it's not a sacrifice, because I got the better end of the deal.

So many smart, beautiful, gifted women are wasting their smarts, beauty, and talents on the rest of the world while their children do not get to reap the benefits of their strengths. They get the "I'm too tired. I've had a long day" Mommy instead. Dr. Laura says that Daycare will not love your children. They will take care of them. They will feed them and give them naps, sure. But they will not love them. If a mother thinks nothing of sending her children to daycare so that they can afford to have the best hybrid SUV money can buy, then they do not think their child deserves love. And that is not the case with any child. They all deserve to be loved.

It's important to remember that our children were first God's children. So, in truth, they are not really ours. They are His. They are on loan. And we are in agreement with Him to not only return them in one piece, but to do all the things necessary to return them at all. That requires that we love them and teach them about Him. And no nanny, babysitter, or daycare can really do that. Only a Mommy can truly help a child learn about their Heavenly Father.

But what irritates me the most is when people ask what I do for a living, and when I say "stay-at-home mom," they dismiss me. DON'T DISMISS ME! What I do is more important then any amount of lawyering or fashion designing or managing that you will EVER do. I may not be getting paid for it in salary, but the giggles, hugs, and "I love you"s I get on a daily basis are worth more then anything you could imagine.

What I do matters. Don't you DARE make me feel otherwise. There are not enough of us in this world anymore. If my family has to eat peanut butter and saltines for 10 years just so that I can be home with my children, so be it. You can drive your fancy cars, live in your big houses, and look down your perfect plastic noses at me all you want. But that just makes you ignorant. You are not worth enough of my time for me to help you realize I am much wealthier then you will ever be!