Rachel "Mom, my hair is as long as Morgan's (our babysitter, with shoulder-length hair)
Mom "Ummm, I'm not so sure that it is honey."
Rachel, more urgently, "Mom, it IS longer! I know it is!"
Mom "Honey, Morgan's hair is almost past her shoulders. Yours is just below your ears."
Rachel, in total exasperation, "MOM. I'm talking about the hair on my ARMS."
Hmmmm...scratch the college fund and just start saving for laser hair removal. But I get it before she does- I've definitely suffered longer.
Monday, February 23, 2009
Monday, February 16, 2009
giving
A young, disheveled girl approached me tonight in the parking lot of the grocery store and asked me if I had $1 that I could give her. She needed to get to some far-off destination and was all out of gas. I didn't have $1, but I saw a gas station across the street and said that if she could meet me there I would give her some gas. The kids peppered me with questions about her as we got in the car and waited at the light- "Mom, do you know that girl?" "Why doesn't she have money for gas?" "Where does she need to go?" "Where is her mom and dad?" - none of which I could answer, but I had those same questions too.
Her battered car really seemed to be on it's last leg as it pulled in behind mine and she waited while I filled my car with her hand over her face. She looked weary. I introduced myself and we chatted briefly as I filled her tank, and then it was over. I got in my car and we started to pull away. In the rear-view mirror, I noticed that she had gotten out of her car and was headed in to the convenience store. "Where is she going?" asked Rachel. I fought the momentary urge to turn around and see if she went inside to purchase something with her non-existent money. "Maybe she needs to use the bathroom honey. I'm not sure."
As I drove home, I started to doubt whether or not she had really been in need of my generosity. The more I mulled it over, the growing doubt threatened to change the spirit in which I had given her my gift. If she hadn't really needed it, my gift was somehow worth less to me than if she was truly in need. Down the road I drove as the thoughts rolled around in my head- Had she been telling me the truth? Had I been taken advantage of? There is no way to really know.
I remembered back to other instances in which I had given things to people in need. I remember my mom taking me to Carl's Jr in Selma and buying a meal for a man in that parking lot when I was very young. That was the first time I can remember doing anything like that, but it shaped my perception that if you can give, you should.
I tried to live by that and give when I could. I remember a homeless man grabbing me around the wrist and saying something vulgar to me as I passed him a grocery bag of food through the window in Houston. He fiddled with my car door for a second before I could drive off. I was shaken and frightened.
I also remembered going through the drive-thru and purchasing a meal that I was not really interested in eating. I distinctly felt that I would find someone who would need that meal, so I drove around looking for a little bit- but no one appeared. I began to munch absent-mindedly on the fries as I headed home. 15 minutes later I missed my exit and as I got off the freeway to turn around I saw a homeless man, with a "Vietnam Vet" sign around his neck, sitting in a wheelchair. He had no legs. My stomach fell into my shoes and I started to sob. I had forgotten, so quickly, the prompting I had felt! As I rolled down the window and the tears rolled down my cheeks, all I could say was "I'm so sorry I ate your fries." He said "It doesn't matter to me lady, thanks" and then I had to drive on, filled with remorse.
Being someone who loves to give gifts, it really matters to me how the gift is received. I know I can't always control that, even less so with people that I only meet for a few moments. I can't get over the thought that I want what I give to be really appreciated and valued- like it is to me. I know that in all the giving I've done to needy people, I've probably been taken a time or two. If I had seen that young woman buy something in the store tonight, would I have had regret for the gas I offered? I think so. What would I do if I knew that man was going to grab and frighten me? Would that have changed his need? Would I have kept my gift?
"For behold, if a man being aevil giveth a gift, he doeth it bgrudgingly; wherefore it is counted unto him the same as if he had retained the gift; wherefore he is counted evil before God." Moroni 7:8
Why is it that my "giving" is all tied up in the "receiving"?
Her battered car really seemed to be on it's last leg as it pulled in behind mine and she waited while I filled my car with her hand over her face. She looked weary. I introduced myself and we chatted briefly as I filled her tank, and then it was over. I got in my car and we started to pull away. In the rear-view mirror, I noticed that she had gotten out of her car and was headed in to the convenience store. "Where is she going?" asked Rachel. I fought the momentary urge to turn around and see if she went inside to purchase something with her non-existent money. "Maybe she needs to use the bathroom honey. I'm not sure."
As I drove home, I started to doubt whether or not she had really been in need of my generosity. The more I mulled it over, the growing doubt threatened to change the spirit in which I had given her my gift. If she hadn't really needed it, my gift was somehow worth less to me than if she was truly in need. Down the road I drove as the thoughts rolled around in my head- Had she been telling me the truth? Had I been taken advantage of? There is no way to really know.
I remembered back to other instances in which I had given things to people in need. I remember my mom taking me to Carl's Jr in Selma and buying a meal for a man in that parking lot when I was very young. That was the first time I can remember doing anything like that, but it shaped my perception that if you can give, you should.
I tried to live by that and give when I could. I remember a homeless man grabbing me around the wrist and saying something vulgar to me as I passed him a grocery bag of food through the window in Houston. He fiddled with my car door for a second before I could drive off. I was shaken and frightened.
I also remembered going through the drive-thru and purchasing a meal that I was not really interested in eating. I distinctly felt that I would find someone who would need that meal, so I drove around looking for a little bit- but no one appeared. I began to munch absent-mindedly on the fries as I headed home. 15 minutes later I missed my exit and as I got off the freeway to turn around I saw a homeless man, with a "Vietnam Vet" sign around his neck, sitting in a wheelchair. He had no legs. My stomach fell into my shoes and I started to sob. I had forgotten, so quickly, the prompting I had felt! As I rolled down the window and the tears rolled down my cheeks, all I could say was "I'm so sorry I ate your fries." He said "It doesn't matter to me lady, thanks" and then I had to drive on, filled with remorse.
Being someone who loves to give gifts, it really matters to me how the gift is received. I know I can't always control that, even less so with people that I only meet for a few moments. I can't get over the thought that I want what I give to be really appreciated and valued- like it is to me. I know that in all the giving I've done to needy people, I've probably been taken a time or two. If I had seen that young woman buy something in the store tonight, would I have had regret for the gas I offered? I think so. What would I do if I knew that man was going to grab and frighten me? Would that have changed his need? Would I have kept my gift?
"For behold, if a man being aevil giveth a gift, he doeth it bgrudgingly; wherefore it is counted unto him the same as if he had retained the gift; wherefore he is counted evil before God." Moroni 7:8
Why is it that my "giving" is all tied up in the "receiving"?
overheard
Adam, practicing the first Article of Faith that is trying to memorize: "We believe in God, the Eternal Father, and in His Son, Jesus Christ, and in the Holy Ghost."
Jonathan, sitting next to him: "And, Legos."
Adam: "Yeah, and Legos"
Jonathan, sitting next to him: "And, Legos."
Adam: "Yeah, and Legos"
Thursday, January 29, 2009
Tuesday, November 4, 2008
It is one thing to discuss polititcs
with those who agree with you and some family members who don't but love you anyway.
It is another thing to anonymously place door hangers in your neighborhood in support of a particular political position.
It is another thing to put a sign in your yard supporting a particular position.
It is really ANOTHER thing to publicly hold up a sign as people file by to vote and let them see your support- to stand for something (literally) when people are watching.
I am most politically active on the phone. Talking about stuff. Mostly with people who agree with me (and the few on the dark side that I haven't lost hope in :) ) This morning, I had the opportunity to hold up a sign in support of the Marriage Amendment on the ballot in Arizona. I didn't think it would be any big deal, but it WAS! I was self-conscious in a way that I did not expect. And, it was really no big deal. No one talked to me- I did get a few mean (my interpretation) stares and when I tried to direct one woman to an open parking spot in the jam-packed parking lot she gave me a dirty look and drove off to park in the hinterlands (obviously someone who supports traditional marriage can't REALLY be interested in helping people get a good parking spot)... but that was really it. I got more thumbs up and a few shout-outs from my ward members than anything negative.
But still, I wasn't entirely comfortable standing there with my sign. But, I had some time to think about it, so I did.
I wasn't concerned about people disagreeing with me- some people will agree with you and some people won't. That's just the way it is.
I was concerned about experiencing their disagreement. Why that is, I'm not sure. I'm still thinking about that.
I did have one distinct feeling though- it is no longer enough to anonymously support political positions that align with my religions beliefs. The Lord is going to need me, and many, many more people like me to stand for those things in an ever-increasing public way. It is not enough to hope someone else will do it.
It is another thing to anonymously place door hangers in your neighborhood in support of a particular political position.
It is another thing to put a sign in your yard supporting a particular position.
It is really ANOTHER thing to publicly hold up a sign as people file by to vote and let them see your support- to stand for something (literally) when people are watching.
I am most politically active on the phone. Talking about stuff. Mostly with people who agree with me (and the few on the dark side that I haven't lost hope in :) ) This morning, I had the opportunity to hold up a sign in support of the Marriage Amendment on the ballot in Arizona. I didn't think it would be any big deal, but it WAS! I was self-conscious in a way that I did not expect. And, it was really no big deal. No one talked to me- I did get a few mean (my interpretation) stares and when I tried to direct one woman to an open parking spot in the jam-packed parking lot she gave me a dirty look and drove off to park in the hinterlands (obviously someone who supports traditional marriage can't REALLY be interested in helping people get a good parking spot)... but that was really it. I got more thumbs up and a few shout-outs from my ward members than anything negative.
But still, I wasn't entirely comfortable standing there with my sign. But, I had some time to think about it, so I did.
I wasn't concerned about people disagreeing with me- some people will agree with you and some people won't. That's just the way it is.
I was concerned about experiencing their disagreement. Why that is, I'm not sure. I'm still thinking about that.
I did have one distinct feeling though- it is no longer enough to anonymously support political positions that align with my religions beliefs. The Lord is going to need me, and many, many more people like me to stand for those things in an ever-increasing public way. It is not enough to hope someone else will do it.
Friday, October 31, 2008
Honey, did you brick the baby?
Jacob has been sleeping through the night since early August- the secret was putting him down on his tummy. Hallelujah.
A few weeks ago he learned to roll over to his back and started doing it 3-4 times a night. Being unable to get back to sleep, he cried and wake me, I'd go in and turn him back over...again...and again...and again....it was like dying a slow death. EVERY NIGHT. I am now thoroughly convinced of the effectiveness of sleep-deprivation as a torture technique. I would've told my deepest darkest secrets for the chance to sleep through the night again.
I hoped he'd get over it. He didn't. I tried to fix it. I couldn't. I tried to figure out which way he was turning and lay him up against the side of his bed so he couldn't do it anymore. I even stuck him in between two little padded things- the ones that are designed to keep a newborn on it's back. No good. He rolled over all of them and I'd always find him a la cockroach- kicking his legs and waving his arms and not able to right himself.
Sooo- desperation IS the mother of invention. Sometimes, it is the mother of unusual invention. Like this.
He doesn't roll over in the middle of the night anymore. I haven't outlawed rolling over during the day.
A few weeks ago he learned to roll over to his back and started doing it 3-4 times a night. Being unable to get back to sleep, he cried and wake me, I'd go in and turn him back over...again...and again...and again....it was like dying a slow death. EVERY NIGHT. I am now thoroughly convinced of the effectiveness of sleep-deprivation as a torture technique. I would've told my deepest darkest secrets for the chance to sleep through the night again.
I hoped he'd get over it. He didn't. I tried to fix it. I couldn't. I tried to figure out which way he was turning and lay him up against the side of his bed so he couldn't do it anymore. I even stuck him in between two little padded things- the ones that are designed to keep a newborn on it's back. No good. He rolled over all of them and I'd always find him a la cockroach- kicking his legs and waving his arms and not able to right himself.
Sooo- desperation IS the mother of invention. Sometimes, it is the mother of unusual invention. Like this.
He doesn't roll over in the middle of the night anymore. I haven't outlawed rolling over during the day.
Wednesday, October 15, 2008
How I accidently shaved off 1/3 of my left eyebrow or, Santa, I need Laser Hair Removal...
This post is for my sisters; they are the only ones who will really feel my pain. And Rebecca too- she understands having hair where isn't not supposed to be.
Bybee girls have all had to develop special relationships with tweezers over the years- we're just that hairy. It's our dad's fault. There are a few lucky sisters that have ventured into the world of laser-hair removal, but I'm not that lucky. So, I'm tweezing my eyebrows, late for a dentist appt. Late is not that out of the ordinary; what IS out of the ordinary is the amount of hair proliferating on TOP of my eyebrows- as if my eyebrows were invading my forehead and headed for my hairline.
I just don't get it. For me, have a baby= more hair. WHY??? WHY WHY WHY???? Stretch marks, ok. Extra weight, ok. But forehead HAIR?? It just doesn't seem fair. That rhymes.
NO NO NO. I'm NOT going to just sit by and let that happen. And, I need to fix it NOW. I picture the dentist, his face THISCLOSE to my face, suddenly distracted by my hairy forehead, and then he drills a hole in my cheek or something. NO!
I check the time- I should've been gone 5 minutes ago. So now I'm panicked and late- not a good combination for me. It tends to make me lose my mind a little but and do things I would NEVER do if I had all my mind.
I holler at kids to get in the car-I can hear a game of tag going on, so no one hears me. Tweezers are slow going and I can see the minutes ticking by. One more holler "IN THE CAR PLEASE!!" and I get an idea. (Mind is lost at this point) I grab a little trimmer that I use around the boy's ears when I cut their hair- I'll shave them off! Brilliant! I'm in total hair-removal-concentration-mode as I move closer to my face with the trimmer and somewhere in the background of my consciousness I hear Adam yell "Mom is base!" but I fail to realize the implications. I am base.
Can you see the events playing out in slow motion? Me, trimmer in hand, getting slammed from behind by two boys who have outrun their sister and are safe on "base," and bbbbzzzzztttttttt... 1/3 of my left eyebrow is gone. I just stare at myself in disbelief. Speechless. Momentarily I go into hyper-panic mode and begin frantically rubbing what is left of my eyebrow, like I can somehow spread it out to cover what is now oh-so-noticeably missing. Alas, hair doesn't spread.
I can't even laugh or cry or do anything but put the trimmers down in total defeat and turn to face the kids who have all frozen mid-tag game and are just staring at me. Staring at the 2/3 of my eyebrow that is left.
Now, the dentist really has something to look at.
P.S. Since I started this post, all the hair has grown back. That is the one plus about being hairy, I guess- it doesn't take long to recover from a serious shaving incident.
Bybee girls have all had to develop special relationships with tweezers over the years- we're just that hairy. It's our dad's fault. There are a few lucky sisters that have ventured into the world of laser-hair removal, but I'm not that lucky. So, I'm tweezing my eyebrows, late for a dentist appt. Late is not that out of the ordinary; what IS out of the ordinary is the amount of hair proliferating on TOP of my eyebrows- as if my eyebrows were invading my forehead and headed for my hairline.
I just don't get it. For me, have a baby= more hair. WHY??? WHY WHY WHY???? Stretch marks, ok. Extra weight, ok. But forehead HAIR?? It just doesn't seem fair. That rhymes.
NO NO NO. I'm NOT going to just sit by and let that happen. And, I need to fix it NOW. I picture the dentist, his face THISCLOSE to my face, suddenly distracted by my hairy forehead, and then he drills a hole in my cheek or something. NO!
I check the time- I should've been gone 5 minutes ago. So now I'm panicked and late- not a good combination for me. It tends to make me lose my mind a little but and do things I would NEVER do if I had all my mind.
I holler at kids to get in the car-I can hear a game of tag going on, so no one hears me. Tweezers are slow going and I can see the minutes ticking by. One more holler "IN THE CAR PLEASE!!" and I get an idea. (Mind is lost at this point) I grab a little trimmer that I use around the boy's ears when I cut their hair- I'll shave them off! Brilliant! I'm in total hair-removal-concentration-mode as I move closer to my face with the trimmer and somewhere in the background of my consciousness I hear Adam yell "Mom is base!" but I fail to realize the implications. I am base.
Can you see the events playing out in slow motion? Me, trimmer in hand, getting slammed from behind by two boys who have outrun their sister and are safe on "base," and bbbbzzzzztttttttt... 1/3 of my left eyebrow is gone. I just stare at myself in disbelief. Speechless. Momentarily I go into hyper-panic mode and begin frantically rubbing what is left of my eyebrow, like I can somehow spread it out to cover what is now oh-so-noticeably missing. Alas, hair doesn't spread.
I can't even laugh or cry or do anything but put the trimmers down in total defeat and turn to face the kids who have all frozen mid-tag game and are just staring at me. Staring at the 2/3 of my eyebrow that is left.
Now, the dentist really has something to look at.
P.S. Since I started this post, all the hair has grown back. That is the one plus about being hairy, I guess- it doesn't take long to recover from a serious shaving incident.
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