Meaningless Stats

Both Luke and Isaiah are currently enrolled in statistics classes. I took a stats class once, but that was in my undergrad program, so 20+ years ago. I remember a few things: the mean, the mode, and the median. If I remember correctly, the mean is the average of a group of numbers, the mode is the number that occurs most often in a series of numbers, and the median is the middle number when you list a series of numbers from lowest to highest. Does that sound right? That's how I remember it anyway.

I was thinking about statistics last week when I was joyously overwhelmed by the 40 birthday greetings I received on Facebook. Wow! Prior to Facebook, I'm not sure I knew 40 people, let alone knew them well enough that they would wish me happy birthday. It was quite delightful actually, as the day went on, and the greetings kept pouring in. I began to think about statistics. For example, from how many different states did these greetings come? Or, how many years have I known the various people who greeted me in honor of my birthday? How many were males and how many were females? Not that this makes any difference really in the grand scheme of things, but it was fun to consider the statistics. If you're curious, read on.

Location
I received birthday greetings on Facebook from nine different states. Oregon (my birthplace) tied with Montana, my current state of residence. Ten greetings came from Oregon: Tom, Nancy S., Janice, Diane, Julie, Cindy, Elisa, Guy, Shelly, and Steffany. From Montana came another ten greetings: Vern, Kaycee, Jody, Sandra, Natalie, Mandy, Annette, Colette, Jared and Teresa. Washington placed third with seven greetings: Cathy, Sherrie, Silvia, Monica, Vi, Melody, and Audrey. Utah placed a distant fourth with four greetings: Hillary, Tiffany, Patty, and Melinda. Three greetings came from Colorado: Rebecca, Susie, and Ruth Ann. Two came from Idaho: Lindsey and Rachael, and I received one greeting each from Texas (Celeste), Arizona (Nancy F.), Massachusetts (Karen), and Wisconsin (Clara).

Awards
The award for the birthday greeting from the person I've known longest goes to my brother Tom, whom I have known since I was 2 years old when he was born. On the other side, there was a 3-way tie for the greeting from the person I've known for the shortest period of time. Nancy F., Steffany, and Clara are Facebook friends whom I've not yet had the pleasure to meet in person. I say "not yet," because I sincerely hope to be able to meet all of them at some point in the future. Teresa just commented on this completed post saying, "Happy Birthday late. Do you have a category for that?" so she wins the award for the latest greeting, ten days after my birthday. My first greeting of the day came from Kaycee. Teresa also wins for the greeting that came from a location nearest to my house; she lives right around the corner. Well, maybe she ties with Natalie? Hmm. The greeting from farthest away came from Karen in Massachusetts.

Gender
The women far surpassed the men this time. Four of my 40 greetings were from men: Tom, Jared, Vern, and Guy. All the rest were from women.

Time Period
Next, I divided my birthday greetings by the time period in my life when I first met these people. I received nine greetings from friends/relatives from childhood: Shelly, Guy, Elisa, Ruth Ann, Cindy, Julie, Janice, Nancy S., and Tom. Seven greetings came from people I've known 20 - 30 years: Patty, Rebecca, Diane, Sherrie, Audrey, Monica, and Vi. Six greetings came from people I've known 10 - 20 years: Tiffany, Melody, Silvia, Cathy, Melinda, and Susie. But the winner in this category was the group of people I've met in just the past 10 years, with a whopping 18 greetings: Celeste, Rachael, Lindsey, Hillary, Vern, Kaycee, Jody, Sandra, Natalie, Mandy, Annette, Colette, Jared, Karen, Clara, Steffany, Nancy F., and Teresa.

So thank you very much, Mark Zuckerberg. This may very well seem like the most meaningless blog post I've ever written, but really, when you think about it, it isn't meaningless at all. I am richly blessed with a diverse and interestingly wonderful group of friends, and thanks to Facebook, I can connect with them at will. I am grateful.

Meaningless stats? Perhaps. But the people are far from meaningless. They are cherished.

More Girls!

I always wanted more girls. When Shulamith was born, she was only our second child, so I had no idea she would be our one and only daughter. I figured that since we already had one of each, we'd surely have some more of each, right?

Wrong.

We have been blessed with four amazing sons; I could spend this entire post raving about any one of them, but yeah, I always thought it would be fun to have some more girls as well. When it became clear that wouldn't happen, I remember telling Shulamith not to worry because one day her brothers would marry, and then we'd have lots more girls. Back then, that day seemed far into the future, but now, that day is here (well, it has begun, at least. It will be a while still, I hope, before the younger three bring us more girls).

This past weekend, Shulamith and I flew to Indiana to visit Luke and meet his fiance, Désirée and her 3-year-old daughter, Evelyn. In many ways, I felt like I already knew Désirée; we had spoken on the phone, visited on Skype, and sent numerous emails back and forth. Still, it's always good when you can meet someone in real life, and it was a delightful weekend in every way. Let me point out some highlights.

Désirée graciously offered her home to us, so we wouldn't need to rent a motel. Little did we know that she meant not just her home, but her bed! We slept in her comfortable bed, while she slept on an air mattress, which might have been okay, except it had sustained serious injury and deflated progressively through the course of each night, leaving Désirée to sleep essentially on the hard floor. Poor Désirée!

Another highlight was taking engagement pictures. I am a terrible photographer (I told you we'd discover other things I can't do), so my job was to spot Shulamith (read: stand with arms extended below Shulamith, prepared to catch her if she happened to fall while attempting to capture the perfect shot of Désirée and Luke sitting on a ledge of rocks. She didn't fall (whew!), and we got some lovely photos.

Oh, and speaking of the many things I'm not good at, let's add Skip-Bo to the list. Okay, let's be honest; I'm not good at any game, well except maybe cribbage, but that's really the only one. My one and only prior experience playing Skip-Bo was over a year ago when Lindsey and I went to Texas to visit Celeste. And they totally cheated. Totally. So how was I supposed to learn to play a game when my two best friends were cheating the entire time? Exactly.

Add to that the fact that I'm just not good at games. My learning curve is ridiculously steep. When I play games, I sometimes wonder if I'm mentally challenged and people are just too afraid to tell me. Shulamith, on the other hand, picks up games instantly and nearly always wins. Désirée generously, but oh so naively, offered to be my partner in Skip-Bo. I'm pretty sure she'll never make that mistake again. She had heard I'm a bit competitive, and so is she, so she thought we'd make a good team. Little did she know that teaming up with me means almost certain defeat. Sorry, Désirée! You can be Luke's partner next time. I promise.

Perhaps the best highlight of our weekend was getting to play with little Evelyn. Shulamith and I both love children, and this little girl is quite adorable. She showed us her toys, played hide-and-seek with us, and told us many important things. She is very smart.

I always wanted more girls. And now I get two at the same time.

W00t! (Yes, Gerald, those are zeros not O's. You can relax.)

Another Thing I'm Not Good At

We have already established a plethora of things I'm not good at. Let's review. I don't cook well. I can't sew, knit, crochet, or do crafts of any sort. I can't draw or paint. I can't sing. My handwriting is abysmal. I'm not an athlete or a musician. I have no idea about gardening, auto mechanics, or interior design. I am both directionally and technologically challenged, which means I can't find my way to most locations whether physical or virtual.

Indeed, my skill set is woefully limited.

And guess what? In the past two days I've discovered yet another thing I totally suck at. I know what you're thinking: Could there really be anything else? But yes, oh yes, there is.

I am really, really, really not good at being sick. Really. The problem is, I have so little experience with it. I am almost never sick. I attribute that good fortune to having five children who, over the years, have coughed, sneezed, and puked on me enough times that my immunity to illness is nearly 100%.

You'll notice I said "nearly." It's obviously not quite 100%. On Sunday I came down with the nastiest little virus. I can't remember ever feeling this ill. I went to church because we were teaching the poetry of Isaiah in our Sunday School class, and ooooh how I love the poetry of Isaiah, but I came home immediately afterward and went straight to bed. Without going into the disgusting details, let's just say that between stomach issues, a raging headache, a fever, and an aching body, I was quite out of sorts. I seriously don't know how people who get sick regularly do it. I whined and whined, but my temperature just climbed higher and my body just ached more. It was a sad night.

Then came Monday. In most jobs, when you're sick, you can call in, and someone else will somehow do your work. That is not the case with my job. I can call in, yes, but it means my students, who paid tuition, will not have the class they paid for. I might have stayed home yesterday regardless, except I'm already canceling class this coming Monday when I'll be in Indiana. So I dragged myself out of bed, and without touching my hair or make-up (now you know how sick I was), I pulled on some sweats and went to school. I instructed my students to keep their distance, and they happily obliged. Between classes, I slept in my car. No kidding. I set my phone alarm for my next class and passed out in the back seat of my little car.

Yep, I positively suck at being sick. And it transcends the physical. Keep in mind my chronic anxiety disorder that tends to specify itself to fear of fatal disease. I'm not sure I've ever blogged about this specifically, but anyone who knows me well knows all about this. Those of you who don't, well let's just say that I've wasted a goodly amount of time in my short life worrying uncontrollably over various fatal diseases that, in the moment, I'm certain I have. In reality, I'm the healthiest person I know; however, I've been emphatically convinced on countless occasions that I have any number of terminal diseases.

So you can only imagine what happens to my delicate psyche when I really do get sick. Uh huh. Exactly. Since I happened to have a backache along with all the other above-mentioned symptoms (really, every muscle in my body ached, including my back), I decided I must have kidney cancer. Because that makes perfect sense, right? You see, anxiety is never rational. If it were rational, it wouldn't be anxiety. So not only was my body sick, but my mind was raging out of control with thoughts of leaving my children without a mother! Help!

I can write this today because I am both physically and mentally recovered. Well, mostly recovered. I still feel weak, not quite my energetic self, but better than yesterday and oh so much a better than the day before. This morning as I was getting ready for school, Gerald remarked, "You're putting on make-up. That's a good sign." Yes, good.

And so, dear friends, we have discovered yet another thing I totally suck at. I totally suck at being sick. I'm sure we'll discover more. Stay tuned.

A Fierce Mom

Before I became a mother, I declared that I wanted strong-willed, independent, free-thinking children. On several occasions since making that declaration, Gerald has reminded me of it. When each of our kids went through the temper tantrum stage, (you know, when they're somewhere between ages 2 and 3, and they so desperately want to do everything for themselves but can't possibly, and they know exactly what they want all the time only it changes second to second, and life becomes so frustrating and overwhelming that their only solution is to throw themselves down on the floor and kick and scream), Gerald would again remind me of my declaration. I wanted strong-willed, independent kids.

Now that our youngest is ten, it's easy for me to watch a three-year-old's fit with pure delight. "Wow," I think to myself. "What a beautiful tantrum!" I mean really, the child is demonstrating perfectly age-appropriate emotional development. Parents should rejoice! However, when I, myself, was the parent, the one carrying my child out of a store, my arms tightly circling his waist, his arms and legs flailing with every scream, well let's just say I didn't find it quite so "beautiful." As judgmental onlookers scowled at me with expressions of disgust, I wanted to throw myself down in a tantrum. I felt at times like the worst mom in the whole world. "Why can't I control this child?" I would ask. "You said you wanted strong-willed, independent children," Gerald would remind me. "And that is exactly what you got."

Thank goodness!

With wills of their own and the confidence to express their feelings without fear of punishment, they grew from tantruming toddlers into independent children and teens who had the courage to say no when faced with all sorts of undesirable temptations. Woo hoo! I couldn't be more proud. Yet, there is a flip side. With such independent spirits, they also felt able to make their own way in the world sooner than many kids do. I've observed families where the children stay close to home after graduating from high school. Many even continue to live at home as they attend college, work, or prepare for missions.

Not my children.

Each of them, one right after the other, made college plans early, worked hard through the summer following graduation, and took off immediately in the fall to begin the next chapter in their lives far away from home. Luke went to Whitman College, about five hours from Mt. Vernon. Both Shulamith and Isaiah went to Westminster, nine hours from Billings. Now we have Eli, who was my baby for seven years until we were blessed with Seth. The photo on this post is the one that will appear in the yearbook as his senior picture. Following his older siblings' example, he too feels ready to strike out on his own. On Oct. 23rd he will take the ACT exam, the first step in the application process for admission to BYU-Idaho in Rexburg, five hours away. Not only that, but Eli is also planning to submit his mission papers as soon as he can before turning 19 in March 2012. That is only 17 months from now, in case you're wondering.

Strong-willed, independent, free-thinking children. That's what I asked for, and that's what I got. I am thankful. I am so proud of each one of them, yet it pulls mightily at my heartstrings when they leave home at barely 18. I grieve every time. Over and over. A friend of mine, an older lady with no children of her own, once remarked: "Terrianne is a fierce mom." I have never felt more complimented. A fierce mom. Yes. Motherhood is not my sole vocation. I do some other things. I teach English classes. I exercise. I read. I shop. I travel. I socialize. I try to figure out new ways to look younger and thinner. I write a blog. However, none of these activities is remotely close in significance to my role as a mother. Nothing I do is more important, and nothing brings me more joy.

As I watch Eli prepare for next year, and I remember so clearly when he was Seth's age and we first moved to Billings, I wonder if I might alter my parenting strategy in some way, so when the time comes, Seth might stay home a little longer. Selfish? I know, but the thought has certainly crossed my mind. It's probably too late, though. At age 10, Seth already shows signs of being just like the others. He threw his share of toddler tantrums, and he now has no fear of expressing his opinions whether solicited or not. He's obviously not ready to face the world on his own, but he grows more independent every day.

"A fierce mom of strong-willed, independent, free-thinking children." You can put that on my tombstone when I die....that is, as long as you promise not to also put my birth date, unless you lie by at least 15 years. Glad we got that straight. Whew!

You're gonna name her what??

I have always liked unusual names. I always thought it would be cool to go through school and never meet another person with your same name. So I always assumed I would give my children very unusual names. Then, 25 years ago when we were expecting Luke, I read an article that shifted my view somewhat. The article claimed that while girls who grow up with highly unusual names do just fine, boys struggle. They are often made fun of; they feel like they don't fit in. They have low self-esteem. Yikes! This article was enough to scare me. I'd hate to burden my sons with self-esteem issues just to satisfy my own desires.

With our oldest two children, ultrasonography was not yet routine. We had to wait until they were born to know whether we had a boy or a girl. Consequently, parents went to the hospital with two names in mind. On the way home from the doctor's visit which confirmed we were expecting our first baby, we stopped by a store and purchased a book, 13,000 Unusual Baby Names. From this book, we would attempt to select our "girl's" name. It wasn't hard. I've seen couples labor (no pun intended) over this issue for months, unable to decide or agree. For us, it took about three seconds. Gerald opened the book randomly to the "S" section and declared, "Shulamith! It's Hebrew for peace." My response, "I love it. It's the most beautiful name in the world." I still think that, by the way. It was settled. If we had a girl, she would be Shulamith.

But, as you know, we had a boy first, a wonderful son. At some point during the pregnancy, I thought we ought to have a boy's name picked out, and my favorite soap opera at the time was General Hospital. A dashing young character on the show, wild and daring and romantic, was named Luke Spencer. I decided Luke would be a good name for a boy (since I had been sufficiently scared out of choosing an unusual name and possibly scarring my child for life), and Gerald was good with Luke too. As an aside, I watch GH only very rarely these days, but Luke Spencer is still there, and he's even hotter now than he was 25 years ago. People thought we chose the name Luke because it was Biblical, but no; it was really just from a soap opera.

Only seven months after Luke was born, I was pregnant once again. I expected another boy because it seemed like most people's first two children were the same sex, so I focused on a boy's name. Still afraid to use my unusual name book, we settled on Matthew. We think that's mildly ironic now since Shulamith's husband is named Mathew, not spelled exactly the same, but very close. I didn't dare hope it could be a girl, and I think I was the one most shocked when she was born. My first words: "Is it really a girl??" Gerald's reply: "It's Shulamith!" And so it was.

During both pregnancies, when people asked about names and we told them a girl would be Shulamith, they nearly always responded with something like, "You're gonna name her what??" We would assure them that it's very easy to pronounce and that once they got used to it, they would see that it's the most beautiful name in the world. Because you have to admit, it really is. So long as people don't try to shorten it (Grrrr!). Then it loses all its beauty.

Okay, so you might be wondering what prompted this particular rant today. It was my 1:15 Tues./Thurs section of WRIT 101. This particular course, while available to all, tends to attract mainly pre-nursing students, and that field is still predominantly female. In any given section of this course, I generally have say 18 women and maybe 3 men. In this particular section, that is exactly the case. Since it's early in the semester, I'm still struggling to learn the names of all my students. I have a lot. It takes a while. I'm pretty sure, however, that in this class, I will never succeed. Why? Let me just tell you a few of the names of the students in this class: Misty, Molly, Holly, Kylie, Kaylee, Ashley (2), Lindsey, Shelly, Staci, Lacey, Jamie, Katie, Kristie, and Kelsey. I'm dead serious. Oh yes, there's also a Jessica and a Samantha, and those two names I already know, but the others....it's positively hopeless! We all know that teachers who care learn their students' names. And I care. I really do. But I truly don't think I'm capable in this case. Fortunately, they are all very good-natured people who seem to think my struggle is quite entertaining.

My point is this. You may not want to choose your next daughter's name from the book 13,000 Unusual Baby Names (although I highly recommend it), but you might want to steer away from the names that end in the long-e sound. They have become an epidemic. I'm afraid that once she's past elementary school, your daughter will become one of the masses; no teacher will ever know her name again! Just a friendly warning. The ultimate decision is, of course, yours. And by the way, if I were to do over again, I'd definitely use my wonderful book to find better boys' names for my sons. I have a friend whose sons are named Crispin and Tavnir, and both are happy well-adjusted people with no adverse effects that I can see. I think the article I read was a bunch of nonsense.

Happy baby naming!

All I Really Need to Know I Learned in General Conference

One of my favorite essays is by Robert Fulghum and titled "All I Really Need to Know I Learned in Kindergarten." I used to have it on a poster displayed in Seth's room until he decided he was way too old and sophisticated for such a "baby" wall hanging. It speaks of the very basic social decencies taught to 5-year-olds that, if embraced by all humankind, would undoubtedly transform the world. This past weekend was the semi-annual General Conference of my church, The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints. As I listened to the conference talks, it occurred to me that right now, at this exact moment in my life, I could rephrase the title of Fulghum's essay to say

All I Really Need to Know I Learned in General Conference.

These are the things I learned:

Every individual is loved and important. Helpers are just as important as leaders. When we sacrifice in order to send our children on missions or to college, the blessings are great for both us and them.

Missionaries are needed everywhere. I should be preparing and saving now for two decades down the road when, as circumstances allow, I might be in a position to serve a full time mission. As an aside, I think that is a wonderful idea, except they really need to stop referring to these people as "senior" missionary couples. I'm pretty sure that even 20 years from now, I won't be too excited to be called a "senior." Nevertheless, I should be preparing!

As a parent, I am the most significant role model for my children, certainly the two teens and the 10-year-old, but perhaps even the two young adults to some extent. Being someone's primary role model is serious business. I should model nothing that I would not wish them to emulate. Wow.

The commandments are for my protection, not my restriction. They allow me to safely navigate my way though this earthly probation, unable to be caught by the temptations and snares that are everywhere.

Trees are like airplanes. And they are also like us. When trees experience adverse conditions, their growth slows down a bit. When airplanes experience turbulence, wise pilots slow down a bit until the turbulence has passed. When we experience periods of stress, sometimes it's best to slow down the pace of our lives a bit until the stress has passed. In stillness, we can be assured that, despite adversity, we are in the constant care of a loving Heavenly Father.

There are two lines of communication between us and our Father in Heaven, one personal and one through church leadership. We are entitled to both, and we need both.

Gratitude is always the best attitude.

I learned many other things as well, but these are the ones I remember most clearly.


Kindergarten was no doubt great, but All I Really Need to Know I Learned in General Conference.