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.

And on a Lighter Note..

... but still just as important. To me, anyway. :) I give you - pictures of my kids.

"Aren't these flowers beautiful, Mommy? Perfect for me to take a picture with!" Yes - that is a direct quote. This was just before attending the "Princess Coronation Ceremony" at Disneyland.

CC really, truly, has an intense fascination with any pair of shoes she (literally) stumbles upon. The above victim's belong to Daddy.

This is one of my most favorite pictures of Cecily EVER! I love her eyes and her cute little pout, and the perfect natural wave of the hair flipping out from behind her ears. It makes me want to go wake her up from sleeping in her room right now and just snuggle my nose into her neck.

And then she notices me, and says "Teeeeeeeeeeeeese!" (i.e. "cheese")

We went up to Utah a couple weeks ago for the funeral of David's aunt. A wonderful woman in her ward allowed us to stay at her home. This is just before bedtime. And the following sequence of pictures is proof that we will never get everyone to look at the camera at once...

Riiiiiigggghhhhhtt....

Malia. Always posing. Always stunning. Always perfect.

Cecily. Always unexpected. Always opinionated. Also perfect.

Malia has recently discovered "Super Why!" on PBS and has discovered a newfound fascination with superheroes. So - I made her a cape. Her only requirements were (1) pink, (2) butterflies, and (3) a mask.

I decided CC needed one, too. (Although that mask never stays on for more than 10 seconds - and that's a generous estimate).

Malia trying to make her cape fly. I made it out of flannel so it would be washable, comfortable, and not necessary to iron. It doesn't fly so well....

She was chanting something funny here. I wish I could remember what it was.

About to commence with sister superhero hugs.

CC has begun doing faces on command like her sister did. This is "mean face" (with accompanying ice cream).

This is, apparently, "psychopath."

I realized the other day that I don't have a lot of bath time pictures of Cecily (2nd child syndrome). And you know it's necessary to have at least a dozen before they get old enough that it becomes inappropriate.

Yeah. I dunno. She's hilarious. /shrug

Malia wanted to wake CC up from her nap. She decided Cecily was lonely and gave her some friends.

A new season of dance. A new pair of dance shoes. And still just as cute as ever, if I may say so myself.

Extend!!!!

Do you remember the days when you could touch your toes to you head and you didn't have to groan and break things to do it...? Yeah - me neither.

October is here! And that means fun, Halloween-themed FHEs at the Nutter house! FHE #1? Sugar cookies! Malia helped me make...

... and Cecily helped me eat.

After a severe heat wave, we have recently been blessed with a rainy reprieve.

I see this view a lot when I look down - CC fussing about something. Usually the word is, "up!" And, any mom knows the dread that accompanies that request... 50 times a day.

Very happy to be eating more sugar cookies. I love my cute kids.

Oh, and this guy, too, I guess.

Torn.

*sigh*

Here goes.

As anyone who lives on this planet knows, us CA Mormons went through some stuff with the whole Prop 8 thing. And as many others most likely are aware, it has caused some division within the Church. And as, oh - maybe 8 people who know - I had my own personal struggle with it. But, ultimately, I did what I was asked because I have a testimony in our Prophet. I truly believe it is through him that the Lord speaks to the members of His Church. And after I prayed about it and got nothing, it was the only thing I knew to do.

And I still do not regret that decision.

However.......

President Boyd K. Packer gave a pretty vehement talk at our recent LDS General Conference this last weekend. And at first, I was inspired and in awe at his straight-forwardness. As I said in my Facebook status not an hour later: "Wow, President Packer. Way to unblur those "fuzzy" lines. Inspiring."

Not surprisingly, though, I have since stumbled upon many posts/blogs/articles that have come from another perspective that are very angry, injured, and, as one of my friends put it, "flat-out livid." (This letter, for example, sent to me by my sister. And this blog post, for another, written by a friend and colleague of mine from BYU).

You see? I get it. I get that the leaders are trying to be straight-forward in an attempt to nullify any hesitation's or attempts at immoral compromise. And I get that there's a painful honesty to the fact that it is an "unnatural desire." That isn't to say that those who have homosexual desires are "freaks," sotospeak. It simply means that certain elements to the laws of nature are intended for certain purposes. And let's be honest. Yes, sex is about how much you love someone, brings you closer, blah, blah, blah. BUT - simply from the perspective of nature, it's about reproduction. And I have HEARD the argument about infertile couples. But that is nature working against THEM, not the other way around. Straight up, logically, to the point. Gay sex is not what nature had in mind for the propagation of a species. Hence - unnatural.

But what I don't get is why GOOD men, trying to live their lives in a righteous way, can't overcome the darn thing. Yes, I said CAN'T, and not WON'T. I struggle, because the leaders say it can be changed; that reparative therapies can do wonders; that repentance and a change of heart will "un-gay" a person. And while I believe, nay, I know that homosexuality is something the Lord does not, and will not ever condone, I disagree with the leaders a little. I think that, in some (even most) cases, you end up with people who've exhausted all their resources and still feel no different in their desires. Only a stronger self-loathing. That can't be the result the Lord hopes for. He would never support a hatred in one's self.

DON'T GET ME WRONG! "Oh, no! Tiffany's apostate! Tiffany's blaspheming the leaders! She's the oxymoronic Mormon liberal!" (*kiss, kiss to all my amazing LDS Democrat friends...*)
I still have complete faith, trust, and pixie dust in my Church leaders. But I am painfully, sick-to-my-stomach, sad in my heart, torn in my soul.

At BYU, whenever we were given an assignment where the topic was ours to choose, I chose homosexuality. I wrote, at minimum, three papers on the subject. (I know there were more, but I only kept 3 - probably the others had less-than-stellar-grade markings). I chose this topic hoping that I would find some enlightenment on why it was such a strong desire, especially in individuals who were tirelessly trying to overcome it, and what it's tie into The Plan might be.

The evidence of this post will, most likely, expose that I have not come to any sort of resolution. In fact, I am more mixed up than ever before. Not in my knowledge of it's moral delinquency. As I've stated before, I know WHY it's wrong. I know WHY it's a sin. I can see both the moral and logical reasons it's an "abomination."

But what I don't see is the need for the suffering in strong, LDS, church-&-temple-attending, calling-fulfilling, scripture-reading, Return Missionaries. I have so many dear, wonderful, talented, amazing, righteous friends who are going through, literally, day-to-day struggles with this. They've gone to expensive therapy. They've spoken with their bishops. They've read their scriptures and poured their guts out to the Lord, begging/pleading/beseeching the Lord's comfort.

And they're not getting it.

And a majority of them have, understandably so, finally given up.

And I'm sad.

Selfishly, though, my greatest frustration in all of this is not my compassion for my brothers & sisters of like faith who struggle with this adversity. My greatest frustration is my own painful struggle with it.

P.S. I did not just come out of the closet.

I am, by nature, a stubborn, strong-willed individual who thrives on being confident in her choices, actions, beliefs, what have you. And I don't like this whole teeter-tottering thing I'm doing right now with my unbending testimony and my breaking heart.

And this is only a fraction of what my LDS homosexual friends are feeling....

The Right Words at the Right Time

Last night I was depressed.

I watched this



and this



and this





... and that usually entertains me.

But, last night, something came over me that made me just watch those clips with envy, bitterness, and competitive frustration.

I once had a guy in my ward at Church ask me if all I do when someone gets up to sing is judge them and tell myself that I'm better than them. And I told him, and meant it, that, "No matter what a person's talent, if I feel from them that they are performing from a genuine and humble place, I am moved, have an appreciation for their performance, and my knowledge of vocal misuse and training goes out the window. I just enjoy."

But let's be honest: Those people who get up to sing and you can't sense an ounce of vulnerability, humility, or graciousness in their performance (you know what I'm talking about. You don't have to be a singer to notice it. You can just tell)... yeah. I judge them. What. I'm human. Meh.

But as I was watching the above youtube clips (as well as a few others) last night, instead of being typically entertained - as I usually am when I go on a Broadway binge - a mean/cocky/jealous Tiffany came out. And all I could think about was how I could do it better than at least 2 of those 3 women (SIDENOTE: I will never be able to sing better than Eden Espinosa). And I was shocked by my extreme reaction. I woke up kind of cranky about it as I performed the mundane tasks of changing Cecily's 3 (yes, THREE in a matter of 2 hours) poopy diapers, gave breakfast to my girls, and organized some laundry.

"My life really sucks," I kept thinking to myself. "I mean, no one out there has any idea how totally talented I actually am and how ridiculously successful I could've been. Dumb laundry."

I know. Embarrassing. And conceited. And embarrassingly conceited.

And then Conference came on. And as usual, I anticipated a certain speaker. And as usual, the man spoke to me. And, as usual, I was humbled, my heart was softened... and maybe my ego a little bruised. But the good kind of bruised.

And, as usual, I had to repent to the Lord because I was resenting the most amazing role of my life: the mother to my children.

And then I was singing in the car while I drove Malia to her dance class. And then she asked, albeit politely, if I could, "Please be quiet, Mommy." And I consented.

But at least I was uplifted enough to not cry about it...

... this time.

Transitioning

It's spitting today.

I can't bring myself to call it "sprinkling," which means it's pretty clearly not "raining." Just spitting. As Cecily and I were leaving Target just after dropping Malia off at pre-school, an itty-bitty, cold "spittle" of rain landed on CC's nose. She looked up at the gray sky with her nose wrinkled and yelled, "Heeeey, you! Wet!!!"

It wasn't a measurable amount, but it's one of those things that happens when the weather begins to change when you have a toddler. She's been through the fall before, but this will be her first autumn season "aware" of it all. Aware or, shall I say, hypersensitive and "cursing" at whatever catches her off guard. That's just how she handles things. Like Joe Cool. Or not.

Nonetheless, the weather is gloomy today.

And I'm giddy.

Bye bye, Sunshine!

I don't mind bidding it adieu, considering we have more than our fair share of our friend, El Sol, down here in the good ol' C.A. And despite it being a fairly cool summer with 2 or 3 random weeks of humid, sticky heat, I'm ready for this change. And despite some of my favorite Kodak moments :



... fall is totally refreshing to me. As a kid, I actually LIKED the school year beginning - even though the excitement often wore off after not even 3 hours in class. And I LOVE the impending holiday season. GAH! It makes me giddy.

And I love the smell of rain and cinnamon, and I love comfy hoodies and not having to shave my legs every day, and I love cooking soups and breads and warm, cozy foods. And I like the consistency of knowing my acquaintances will generally be sticking around for the next few months instead of whisking themselves away for vacations.

Autumn is like home to me. And I'm going to welcome myself in, thank you.

P.S. I recognize that fall doesn't officially begin for a couple more weeks.
And I also recognize that this post is most likely to going to jinx us into a heat wave in the near future.

Oh well. /shrug