What Happens When...

....my wife doesn't have to go to work because it has snowed.

It Snowed Today!!!

The last time I saw this much snow, in a place I lived, was the winter before I moved from Salt Lake City to Napa, California.


It was , as they put it in the newspaper this morning , near blizzard conditions.

Instead of driving the mile to the Zendo , yesterday, we did one of my favorite things to do on a snowy morning ; we walked. A snow storm is much more pleasant to walk in than a rain storm.

Our bike trailer did well in the snow, but the front wheel attachment kept jamming up and acted more like a ski.

Snow is such a big deal here, it only snows about two days a year, they closed school. The only reason I can see for them to close school for this little amount of snow is so the kids can all go out and play.

Child Abuse and Domestic Violence

When looking at my stats, at Statcounter, I have noticed that some of the searches that have brought people to my blog may have been searches for help. I have added the National Domestic Violence Hot Line , just above my profile.

Ruthie and Chaz Model Citizens?

The two little ones and I were at a cafe this morning. They, the 2 year old and the four year old, were eating muffins and sharing a croissant with me. There were only two other people in the cafe, two middle aged women eating croissant with egg and reading the paper.

The little people sat there contentedly eating for, a long time, by child standards. Just as I went to get another cup of coffee Chaz (the two year old) was, obvious to me, starting to lose his contentedness.

I commented that, getting another cup of coffee, was not a good idea since I could tell that the kids would soon get restless.

One of the women said that they sure were good kids, and that they sure were patient. Whenever anyone says that my kids are good I always agree with them, but, generally I find that what they see as good and what I see as good are different.

After our brief conversation it was clear to me what she meant by good. He was not running around screaming in the cafe. Of course, I knew what she meant, if your toddler is running around screaming that is not "good" cafe behavior, you might as well take your stuff and leave. You won't enjoy being there and neither will the other customers.

It is a given that there is good behavior and bad behavior, for certain situations. If Chaz is having a tantrum it is much easier for me to handle if I am not in a nice restaurant; if I am at home or even at a grocery store I am less embarrassed. It all comes down to how I feel, and how I think me and my child are being perceived by other people.

I have accepted that a two year old throwing a tantrum is neither bad nor good. Every two year old has tantrums, at least all three of mine have. As they grow and their communication skills become more sophisticated tantrums become less frequent.

So, my comment to the other cafe customer was; he is being pleasant now, but an hour ago he was screaming.

How Fear Looks to A Toddler

Charlie experienced a car- wash for the first time a few days ago. You know, one of those car-washes with big moving brushes that spin around and go back and forth over the car.

Charlie, having never seen one of those things before, did not know what to make of it. I am guessing that, he must have thought, that they were big furry monsters that were attacking our car. Not like the big furry monsters on "Sesame Street" who teach you how to count , hang out in garbage cans and eat cookies .

Charlie shook with fear......I wish I had a visual.......he quaked with terror....scared. His, always practical, nonplussed, sister sat there and tried to soothe him. "It's just a car wash Charlie" "those things won't hurt you...see they are washing the car."

Then, as if to soothe himself, he started repeating: "it's just a car-wash" over and over.

When something scares him now he says "it's just a car wash." We have added others. "It's just a machine (vacuum cleaner)" "It's just a lawnmower"

But really scary things, like white movie credits rolling on a black background, is just a car wash.

( I would love to be able to see the thoughts going on in his head when he sees things)

Chaz's Latest Song

A song about a legendary older brother, who, looms large in the two year olds psyche-

"My Kyle lies over the ocean, bring back my Kyle to me"

"My Kyle lies over the sea, bring back my Kyle to me"

Former Saint

Recently, I have had a few readers from the ex-Mormon and Mormon community reading my blog. For them I am posting my Exit from Mormonism story; I wrote it for the Recovery From Mormonism board.

Please comment, and ask questions, I will answer all questions to the best of my ability.

The reason that I initially left the L.D.S. Church, at the moment I consciously decided to leave was pretty simple, I had no testimony. It was not an action of just slipping into in-activity but an actual thought. I could not say, with any honesty, that I knew the Church was true. This problem, and at 19  I did view it as a problem, prevented me from going on a mission.

My disaffection with the Church began earlier than that. As a kid, I probably was not much different from many other born and bred Salt Lake valley Mormons, insulated from the non-Mormon world because Mormons are the majority but enough non-Mormons so, that contact with non-members was common.

I can clearly remember that I had ingested the idea that we needed to avoid evil; in my mind non-members were not so much evil but had access to evil things so, obviously needed to be avoided; that philosophy only applied if they were doing something wrong, like smoking or drinking. As I grew up I could see how prejudiced my attitude was. Despite the awareness of my prejudice most of my friends were just as devout as I was, and I did not try to befriend people who were outside my faith.

As a teenager I was the type who took church pretty seriously, I never missed a meeting, went to seminary every day, I obeyed all the rules (I even turned down free tickets and a backstage pass to a Depeche Mode concert. Only because it was on a Sunday!)  Like many average teens the music I listened to and the look I adopted probably appeared pretty rebellious to other people; I was aware of that. Sure, I had spiky hair, wore a lot of black, I went to dance clubs and concerts on the weekend but my outer look did not necessarily reflect my spiritual life.

I was also hyper aware of what I thought of as fake righteousness. We were pretty poor, my father could not hold a job, and he suffered from bipolar disorder. When I was fairly young I was sure that my fathers mental illness  meant that he was not a righteous person.  Also If he were living the gospel he would be happier and would be able to hold a job.  When I was a teen and started battling my own depression I could see that this conclusion I made about him  was wrong but I perceived that others in the church and in our family did not see this.  I  sensed that my family, especially my dad was looked down upon for our relative poverty.  

The direction I took was to cultivate an authentic spiritual life that shed outward appearances and was more focused on my inner life; so I did all the things and tried to think the things a good Mormon should.

When I was fifteen I took some summer theater classes at University of Utah, through this I started making friends with non-Mormons, this was when I became aware that “righteousness” was not something that only Mormons had, I also discovered that even people who were not religious could be “good.”

This little realization was faith shattering. I realized that, according to my church, these people from other churches were moral, but they lacked the absolute truth that Mormonism offered. So, if they did not accept the “truth” as we saw it, even with all their good deeds, they would not make it to the Celestial Kingdom, the highest tier of heaven in L.D.S. cosmology. This bothered me, instead of just accepting this explanation I started to doubt that Mormon truth was absolute.

By the time I was 19 these doubts were fairly solid, they were helped by the fact that, despite my often desperate prayer sessions, where I would ask god for some sign of the Church's truth, I expected the "burning bosom" that was often referenced, this feeling often came in church when we were singing hymns and it came at a Public Image Ltd. show when John Lydon  screamed "anger is an energy."  I never did get the witness that so many had promised so, instead of doubting the church I doubted my sincerity.  It was really easy to tell my bishop when it became time for my mission interview that I could not put my papers in until I had some personal revelation.  My view was that my faith and testimony should be solid, so that when I went out looking for converts I would be able to really believe what I was doing.

My bishop told me I should just go and my doubts would be lifted. I can see now the wisdom in this statement; yes, sometimes you just have to jump and maybe if I had just gone I would not have left the church. With all the doubts I had, a mission may have just cemented my feelings even more, and I probably would have gone to a place with even less Mormon influences than Salt Lake City.

When my mission interview took place I was living with my girlfriend  who was not Mormon and we lived in a part of SLC where, as the local singles ward bishop put it, kids who don't want to be in the church anymore go. 

 After my initial break with the church my Girlfriends mom was pretty influential in my post-Mormon “spiritual” development. During the Late sixties she had become involved with a group of American Hindus. She had a guru and practiced yoga.

She gave me a couple of her guru's  books plus some others in the eastern philosophy bent. What grabbed me from the outset was that their idea of god fit mine easily. My idea of god had gotten fairly large in my imagination;  god was not this judgmental character who had a chosen people but one who loved all his children and gave them several ways to get back to him.

I began practicing yoga, not just as physical exercise, but as a spiritual one. I also devoured books about yogic philosophy and Buddhism. I read books by Alan Watts, Ram Das, and Jack Kerouac. I spent a couple of months living at an ashram in California, where I learned meditation and various yogic practice’s, and met other young people like myself who were searching for an authentic spiritual life.

This was an incredible time in my life, being free from Mormonism, I felt free to choose my experiences without fear. I believed fervently that I could free myself up with yogic practice and truly worship god with my whole self, not the limited self I felt I was as a Mormon. Once I achieved that state, I thought that I would really be living “righteously” and the appearance of righteousness would be because of what was inside.

I was also free to do things that are denied to a member of the church, which meant that I could make mistakes and not worry about whether or not I would still go to heaven.

By the time I was 24, I was as far as I could get from Mormonism. I was not interested in it, I did not think about it much, except when I traveled and people would ask me where I was from. My pride in my Mormon pioneer heritage became apparent to me; I loved to tell people that my relatives were involved in the beginnings of the church and had scouted out and settled the Salt Lake valley. My disaffection from the church did not change my feelings for my family, nor did it seem to change how they felt about me. I am aware that for many exmormons this is not the case and I know I am lucky in this respect.

By the time I was 27 I had begun practicing Zen, I had a 2 year old son, and an ex-girlfriend with whom I was sharing parenting duties. At this time, I met a woman who was about six months from departing on a mission for the church, to Bolivia. She was attractive, intelligent, well educated and a devout Mormon.

We discussed and debated religion a lot, which, I found to be one of her more attractive attributes. My Zen practice softened my bias against the church significantly enough so, that when she suggested to me that I take a second look at the church, I did. I also had the thought that I might go back to the church. I can’t say honestly that my attraction to my friend did not influence this; mostly going back would have been out of my nostalgia for simplicity. I decided that the best route for me would be to take an institute class.

I chose a class at Salt Lake community college which was taught by one of my former high school seminary teachers, this teacher was the only person who suggested to me that exploring other religions fully was not a bad idea. The class did not sway me in any way to go back to church. In fact during the class I got the impression that Mormonism was much more convoluted than I had originally thought. I also found it devoid of the pragmatic approach to spiritual development I had found if Zen practice. The other effect it had on me was that I could now admit that Mormonism was fine for other people, but not me.

At the time of this writing it has been 17 years since I decided to leave the church, I finally had my name removed about three years ago. I currently am a practitioner in the Soto school of Zen Buddhism. Leaving the church has been more of a journey than a destination for me; a journey that brings me back to it, in mind, frequently. One of my struggles has been to accept the parts of myself that are still Mormon, and respect those who practice it. The immediate benefit I can identify from this struggle is that I have good relationships with the members of my family who are solidly L.D.S.

(Now it has been almost 21 years since I left.)

Absent Kids

For the first ten years of my older sons life we were rarely apart for long; a month at the most. The two days of the week, plus the weekends, that he would spend with his mother seemed like an eternity at times. When he was with us I would just get to feeling like a normal family; normal as in the constant reminding him to "pick up your socks" or " no computer until you have finished your homework" normal. Then I would whisk him away to his moms.

I would drop him off, and drive away reminded that this was not what I considered "normal."

I was used to it, so was he.

This situation had its perks, my wife and I never had to find a babysitter if we wanted to go out; until the little ones were born.

When we moved to Eugene, I knew it was drastic, it would be a change that we all had to adjust to. I knew it would be hardest on him.

For the second year he spent winter break with us. Two weeks of 11 year-old boy. Light-saber fights, stinky socks, wet towels on the floor, one or two days of emotional turmoil.

Me, resenting that he wants to spend more time playing with his neighborhood friends than with his step-mom and two, drastically younger siblings. (he assured me that this was not the case, and I adjusted to his need.) We all had a great time with him, most of all his two younger siblings; who worship him.

His last day came. After I ordered him for the....millionth time...to please get your stuff together and pack; his step-mom found him sitting against his bedroom door sobbing. He did not want to leave.

Later on that day, at a pizza place in Portland, we talked about how temporary his whole situation is. Only six years and he will be able to settle where he wants, visit who he wants. We talked about the difficulty of our situation and who has it harder, him or me?

We both have it hard and the reasons are numerous.

Two

Chaz turned two yesterday. What can I say about him; just six months ago he was freaking other parents at the park out by climbing higher than they thought he should. When he did fall, I would ask if he was OK, he would say yes, then get up and keep playing. (sometimes he would cry and want to be held.)

I can't remember what his first word was, but I notice that, he says "thank you" every time I give him something he asks for, he used to say wow a lot, and there is the ever present "that's mine", no and " I want that.........." whatever dad does not want you touching.

Happy Birthday Chaz! It sure has been fun.

Favorite Albums And Songs of 2007

This list is in order of whatever album comes to mind first, not, a reflection of importance or favorites.

1. UB40 Labour Of Love
I rediscovered this in February. It brought some (warning cliche' ahead.) brought some sunshine into some of those dreary days. I like the way it opens up with "Cherry Oh Baby;" I have to be standing next to the speakers when it starts or I have to start it again.

2. XTC-Skylarking
The big hit off this album was "Dear God;" It still sort of amazes me that in 1986 "Dear God" was voted the best on the Salt Lake area radio station where they played bands like XTC. Not surprisingly, the song received the same honor at the dance club I used to frequent. My favorite song on the album is, the more poppy, "Earn Enough For Us."

3.Johnny Cash-
For Christmas last year my in-laws gave to us a gigantic collection of Johnny Cash songs. What can I say......We also got our hands on his last album "American IV: The Man Comes Around" I love it! It is not the Depeche Mode cover or the Nine Inch Nails cover, It's the whole thing. My favorite song really, is "We'll Meet Again."

4. Depeche Mode-Just Can't Get Enough
When I was 17, and hanging out at underage dance clubs, where they played this type of music, when the "just can't get enough" refrain would come around, we would change the enough to "get it up." Anyway, I think I have already written too much about this song, but, I have more. I discovered the song hanging out in the far reaches of my itunes library, I am not sure how it got there, I love it, it is a perfect pop song. The message is simple and the music is straight forward.

5. The Cure-Disintegration
As you, dear reader, have guessed none of these songs or albums come from 2007; I bought this one the same day I bought Labour of Love. They were birthday presents for me. In 1990 I owned a discarded copy of this that my sister did not want. "It's too dark." My reply: it's not as dark as some of Robert Smith's other albums. This album is sort of like some of the rainy days here; dark, cloudy, raining, but green and lush. I misplaced or sold this album along the way, and, found that I needed to have it after moving to Eugene.

6. Joanna Newsome- The Sprout And The Bean
I read a review in our local weekly of her performance at the wow hall; and found that she studied music at a womens college that is in my former Oakland CA, neighborhood. I had heard many tales of drunken musical experimentation from some students at this college, so after reading the review I had to hear her. Some reviewer had compared her singing voice to Lisa Simpson, of "The Simpsons," accompanied by a harp. I agree. She is a clever lyricist and, well, her voice has grown on me.

Should I be worried?

I came into our computer area to find my wife browsing itunes for the song "Institutionalized:" the Suicidal Tendencies song from 1984, featured In the Repo Man soundtrack. She found the lounge version, which came out in the swingin' nineties, and the ST version.

We listened to both versions, frankly, I like both. I heard the Original in about 85, 86. And, well, at the age of 15-16 I thought it was...(I'm not holding back) amazing. Then ten years later, after grunge and "alternative" became completely bland; the lounge version sounded refreshing.

I can't put my finger on why I still like the song, it isn't nostalgia.

The song ends, the wife looks at me and asks "should I buy the whole album?"

me: "Why?"

her: "I like the song, why not the album?"

me: "why do you find 'Institutionalized' so appealing?"

her: "It is soothing."

She bought the album. I asked her to put in on her ipod, so I could listen to it at work. I listened to it that same night and...I found it kind of disturbing and gory. I was glad I had Kate Wolf to listen to afterwards to bring me down.

She finds it soothing, who am I to argue; I like Joy Division when I want to wind down.

I have to admit, I am slightly disturbed, that a 37 year old mom and High School teacher is suddenly interested in early eighties hardcore. Now that I have written that I don't find it so odd. Maybe, I find it odd because I was listening to that stuff back when I was sixteen and...messy.

Charlie Climbing Window

So, I would like it to be known that I am not posting this picture because I think that my son is incredibly good looking, talented, and amazing. Seriously, I am not one to endlessly gush about how great my kids are, and post tons of pictures of them. Other bloggers can do that.

But..when it is warranted...like now...it must be done.
He got up there himself; someday I am going walk into his room he will say "Hi, dad" I will look around for a minute then find him hanging out in the corner of the room...on the ceiling!

To Restrain Or Not...

As I was digging through a box of Christmas lights, that I had brought down from the attic, I found this Elmo toddler leash. I can make a pretty good guess as to how it landed in there. Hide it so no one knows, not even me, that we own one.

I did not pay much mind to it, I thought our days of using one were over. We bought it for our trip through the Alaska's inside passage on three different Alaska Ferries. Note, in the picture you can see the one-and-a-half year old wearing the harness, the leash is taut; also note the railing of the ferry. What I imagine the builders of the ferry thinking when they put this railing in. "Well....if parents bring their toddlers on board they had better pay attention to what they are doing...cause we aren't putting railings in that would keep a toddler from mindlessly climbing through and falling into the icy waters below."
I argued against the harness until I saw that it was necessary.

Upon seeing the newly uncovered harness, DW (dear wife), began speculation on how we could use it on Charlie.
Ugh not again; we are not going on any ferry trips soon, I thought.
"We have no use for it." I said.
"Think about the holiday market." she countered. "All those people, lots of breakable merchandise; he could get lost."
I thought about it.

My first thought "If other people are as judgmental as I am.... I could not take all those disapproving looks"

Of course other peoples opinions don't matter as much as the safety of your child. However, more importantly, the "safety" of my child does not matter as much as my parenting philosophy, which, prohibits the use of these restraints.......any reasonable person can see that.......right?

I bolstered my argument, when I pointed at that Chaz would render the thing useless, by sitting down and crying because he can't move around and would have to be picked up anyway. So, why bother?

DW put it on him anyway, and Chaz thought it was pretty funny, until he tried to run into the kitchen, DW was keeping him from doing so. I unclasped the leash and Chaz ran away laughing.

"Be free child be free."

Opinion in favor of Child Harness and leashes.

Here is another pic of me, my daughter and my mom on a ferry in Alaska's inside passage.

Charlie Speaks

One of the things that is great about watching a child grow up is their language acquisition. Chaz, these days, has an ever expanding vocabulary; he shows preference: I like this, I don't like this.

On our recent trip to my homeland (the glorious, if not slightly maligned, Salt Lake Valley) Chaz showed his preference for things in several ways. When we arrived at the airport in Portland he took one look at the place and said "I don't like this house." I did not try to explain the difference between a house and an airport, I know he would not care, obviously he knows a house is a building, and an airport is a building he does not like.

After being in the air for an hour....or so, and we landed in Boise (I'M GOIN' TO BOISE........) Chaz announced that he was done. "I'm done" he said, he said it several times just so everyone would know. We stayed on the plane because it was SLC that we were headed for but not Boise.

The next morning, at my sisters house, he woke up and looked out the glass door at my sisters snow covered back yard and said "uh oh." The kid has seen snow ,but it was such a long time ago, I am sure that it is too distant a memory for him to know that it is cold and wet. It is hard for me to guess what he thought, obviously, he thought that the snow is wrong.

On our trip back to Portland Chaz showed his distaste for airplanes by saying " I don't like this Helicopter" Helicopter sounded more like helliopter, it took me a minute to decipher what he said. Why he identified it as helicopter instead of an airplane I will never guess, it's not as if we see many more of them than we do of airplanes.

My Grandfather passed away last Thursday (November 29th). My wife had stayed home to help with a sick child when I heard the news. We went from quiet morning to trying to pull off a last minute trip to Salt Lake City.

I am not a really stoic person. I am not uncomfortable about crying but, if there is stuff to be done, I will do it, even if I have tears in my eyes. I will mow the lawn and sob instead of sit on the couch and sob. So, there I was on Thursday making plans to travel, taking care of kids, wife, house, cats, chickens and trying to manage a flood of emotions, and memories of my Grandfather.

One of the thoughts I had, that I became fixated on, was something that I am sure other exmormons might be able to relate to; how to go to an L.D.S. funeral and pay tribute to a beloved relative without getting all hung up on how you disagree with all the dogma.

It was a real concern, I pictured myself sitting there in the chapel listening to one of my relatives talk about the afterlife while I cringe. Over the next couple of days I convinced myself that I could sit there in that pew without cringing.

This was my Grandfather after all. If he were in my position how would he have dealt with it? He would put aside his prejudices and just do it, and he would do it while being kind to everyone around him. I always felt valued by him, regardless of how freaky I looked when I was a teenager. Sure, he made comments about my ripped black jeans and my spiky hair, but he betrayed his true feelings by the hug he always gave me and the way he would smile when I would show up at family gatherings; gatherings I often did not want to be at because of the awkwardness.

Naturally, this awkwardness increased for me when I left the Mormon church. I know that it was disappointing for him to not see his first Grandson go a mission, even then, he did not let on how disappointing it was. If I could give him that satisfaction in return for the respect and love he that he has shown me and my wife and kids over the years I would put aside my disbelief and go just for him.

What I did for him, instead, was bring my family to Salt Lake for his memorial. And at the funeral, when prayers were offered I bowed my head and listened, when hymns were sung, I sang; when my mom and two uncles talked about seeing him in the heaven, I did not engage in an imaginary debate, with them about whether heaven is a pretend place or a real place.

Not only did this exercise make it easier to be at the funeral but it made it easier for me to talk to my relatives no matter how brief the exchange was.

It feels like a small token; somehow too me just being civil with my aunt, uncle's and cousins does not seem like enough. We all have lives of course, for more than one of us, those lives are vastly different and only intersect when someone passes away. Frankly, I do wish it were not like that, I would not mind having relationships with them that are as easy as they were when we were all kids playing in the woods on a camping trip.

And wouldn't it be a fitting memorial to a grandfather who cared about his grand kids to have them all talking to each other?

Goodbye Grandpa, I miss you.

Alfred Carl Nielsen
Alfred Carl Nielsen 1917 ~ 2007 Alfred Carl Nielsen passed away on November 29, 2007 in Salt Lake City, Utah at the age of 90.He was born on November 9, 1917 in Castle Dale, Utah to Alfred C. Nielsen and Mabel Ruth Steele. He married Lucy M. Springer on March 13, 1945 and was later sealed in the Salt Lake Temple on November 15, 1945. He served in the Pacific in the Navy during World War II. He then joined the Army Air Corps later the Air Force and served in the Korean War. He retired from the Air Force on June 1, 1965. Alfred was active in the LDS church. He served a mission in California and later with his wife in England. He served in numerous callings including branch presidencies and bishoprics, Temple Square Host, the Church History Museum, and as an ordinance worker in the Salt Lake Temple. He was always willing to help those in need. Alfred is survived by his wife of 62 years, Lucy M. Springer, children: A. Carl (Elizabeth), Marion Wilson, Larry (Marsha), Sheryl (Marc) Atkinson, Bryon (Julie), Robert (Lisa); sister, Ella Hoskins, 27 grandchildren and 35 great grandchildren. He is preceded in death by his parents and two brothers, Grant and Ross. Services will be held on Monday, Dec. 3, 2007 at 12 noon at the Brickyard Ward, 1111 E. Charlton (2800 So.), Salt Lake City, Utah. The family will receive friends on Sunday, Dec. 2, 2007 from 6-8 p.m. at Wasatch Lawn Mortuary, 3401 S. Highland Drive, Salt Lake City, Utah and before the services from 10:30-11:45 a.m. Interment will be held at Wasatch Lawn Memorial Park.

Happy Thanksgiving...

I always feel a little guilty for the days leading up to Thanksgiving. We eat pretty well at our house, I don't mean steak and potatoes well, but we are far from starving.
Whenever my daughter tells me that she is starving, I tell her that she does not know what that word means, and probably will never experience starvation.

Our average dinner consists of a salad, some sort of stir-fry with lots of veggies and rice or potatoes, rice and a variety of beans. Sometimes I make an enchilada type dish or I will buy a roasted chicken for dinner.

Usually, there is enough left over for the adults to have a small portion of seconds, and my wife to take some for lunch the next day. Portions are not piles of food but small, probably a quarter of what you might get at a place like Applebees.

I felt the guilt start to come on when I did my first Thanksgiving shopping trip. My shopping cart was already pretty full when I went to look at the turkeys. The ten and sixteen pounders looked too small, I grabbed a 23 pound one and had to shuffle stuff around in order to get it in the cart.

It was then that I realized that I had enough food to feed a rather large family used to eating only rice for dinner. It was even more than enough for us; we were, by the way, only entertaining two other people.

The guilt stems from the idea that, normally I have enough, but on Thanksgiving it turns to more than enough. Is this a way for me to give thanks? To sit and over-eat while I know that there are thousands of people who can't conceive of what I eat on an average day. That I am lucky enough to not have to suffer in the way that the malnourished suffer?

I will feel grateful, when I will realize, that I have not had to grocery shop for a week and a half because of all the leftover turkey.

Anyone who has read this blog knows that I am not in the least judgmental.....so,

I read an article written by a relatively new Stay at home dad, former New York Times foreign correspondent Charlie Leduff

His experiences as a Stay At Home Dad are pretty typical, turned away at the Yoga studio, (did not happen to me) hanging out with the nannies at the playground. (I once went to a playground, with the daughter, where the only person who would carry on a conversation with me was a cute, young, French au pair.)

I will stop myself before I fall into a pit of Hyperbole about how bad the social life of a SAHD is. (really bad acronym if you asked me) It really is not that bad.
The best part of the article, is the rebuttle from Judith Warner on her domestic disturbances blog.....It gets even better, The comments
were way better than her view that parents are engaged in some type of warfare.

The comment that I would like to comment on is this one:

I was a stay-at-home Dad, (ie S.A.D.) for 6 months. My wife, along with the wife of a good friend, had babies about the same time, and my friend and I decided we would pal around NYC taking care of our kids since we both have freelancing professions, and the wives have 9-to-5s.
We were not cut out for it. After 6 months, we both sprung for nannies, and I can tell you that the sound of the nanny arriving at 8am is like hearing Mozart playing live in my living room.
Please forgive the sexism, but changing diapers, making bottles, cleaning up spitup, bundling up baby, putting them to sleep, soothing their cries for 10-12 hours a day is just not a man’s work. At least not for this man. We began to resent our kids and our wives.
Nothing ever made us want to work harder than having kids - to work at our chosen professions, to provide. Every diaper became another 5 minues away from what we were supposed to be doing with our lives. A word of warning to potential S.A.D.s - you may not be cut out for it.

— Posted by UseProtection

Of course, I agree with this guy, some are just not cut out for parenting. Some people can't handle life outside of the everyday ego gratification they got from their high paying jobs. You start taking care of kids, you get judged for not being at work and you don't get a paycheck or a pat on the back for all your hard work. (This is the extreme judgmental side of me.)

His mistake is assuming that one can be cut out for parenting....No one is cut out for parenting....It may come easier for some, but it is something you have to work at and nothing can really prepare you for it.

Dude, you just gave up to early the first six months are the hardest.

Kid Story

The four-year-old daughter loves dance, so much, that for the past couple of years we have had her in several dance classes. Her appetite for dance is insatiable. Her little brother has tagged along to all of her classes and, also wants to dance .

He is not nearly as coordinated or graceful as the the three and four year olds in his sisters class, but has at least as much passion. His dancing consists of running around in a circle and occasionally a simulated leap. (As much of a leap as a toddler can manage) He ends up on the floor a lot, being almost two falling down is de rigueur, it does not phase him in the least.

The few times which he has successfully invaded his sisters class, and the dance teacher allows him to stay, the girls generally don't mind him but they often just think he is so cute, they end up too distracted to keep dancing.

Maybe he can take this lesson into his teenage years; girls love a guy who really wants to know ballet.

Two Good Wheels

One of the reasons I wanted to move to Eugene was it's bike ability. Eugene is a relativley small city, it is easy to get around on a bike, plus there are several designated bike routes. My goal has been to use the bike instead of the car whenever I can to run errands. So far, we have been doing pretty well.

This goal is not a recent goal for me, it is something I have been thinking about for years. When I was a kid, pre-drivers lisence I got around either by foot or bicycle all the time. Of course when I turned sixteen it was all about cars too me. I lived in a suburb and for fun me and my friends would go to Salt Lake City. When I finally moved there I was still in "car mode;" I would drive places that were only a five or ten minute walk away.

I would return home feeling stressed; I would sulk into my apartment with my groceries and listen to Ministry. I would sit there in my black clothes and think about how great it was that I did not have to drive so far to get to my favorite dance club.

Then one day, I realized that I did not have to drive. I walked to the store, it was liberating. I did not have to find parking, I didn't have sit there and wait to turn left. (these were all very stressful things for me. I was a nervous driver. I used to get really upset that other people thought that they could drive in front of , behind and to the side of me; or drive at all while I was using the road.) None of that concerned me while I walked.

When I arrived home with my bag of groceries I felt so good, I did not want to sulk inside with my Ministry tape (yes, that was before cd's were all the rage and way before mp3's) Soon enough, if it was close, I walked to my destination. Eventually I rode my bike to destinations that were further away.
One of the first things that I noticed was that distances were not nearly as far as I had originally thought and I got to know the city a lot better.

For two or three years I did not even own a car. When I eventually did buy another car I was already used to getting places on foot so, I only used the car for long trips. Like going to San Francisco or New York.....heheh....or more interesting and fun places like Canyonlands National park and Yellowstone.

Of all the reasons I chose to, and choose to, get around by bike the environmental reasons are minuscule. (If I were really hard core, I would not even use a bike, the metal and rubber had to come from somewhere and will eventually end up in a landfill)

It really is about ease and pleasure for me. Plus it is about the only exercise I get on a regular basis

Mike: Desert Explorer

My Brother -in- law lives in Moab Utah where he is able to go out and explore. I am fairly jealous. He has told me several times that he would take me out on one of his trips; I will take him up on that someday.

This is the text of an email he sent; there is a link at the bottom for his Flickr page.

I just got back from a great journey out into the San Rafael Desert; meeting with Chris Schiller, who was just coming up from Natural Bridges and a visit with Dave and Peggy, and (briefly) Mike Painter.

We met at the little kiosk where the dirt road splits to either Hans Flat and the Maze, or north toward Horseshoe Canyon and Green River, both arriving within ten minutes of each other--not bad given the distance/terrain. The dirt road was generally in decent shape, but got a bit more rugged as we passed the Horseshoe Canyon turnoff, following alongside of a wash on the sage plains with little sign of the canyons that cut deeply into the seemingly sandy desert.

We located our turn-off, parking the vehicles for our trek into Moonshine Canyon, as suggested by Chris a little while ago, one that I hadn't heard of before (and then saw a picture taken by Aaron Ralston at his talk last week of this same canyon). The weather couldn't have been better for a slot canyon hike--zero clouds and a reasonably cool day (there was frost on the windshield when I left Moab), the temps getting to maybe the mid-seventies. Perfect.

We noted another vehicle down the side road a bit, hard to believe, but it looked like someone else had the same destination. Oh well.

We simply headed overland until we came to an opportune drainage, which in turn led us right into the canyon that we sought--which at this point was a medium sized wash with walls of thin rock strata layers.

We indeed located two pairs of fresh footprints in the sand.

The wash quickly started to go deeper, usually by the big steps of pour-offs, many of which included some pretty massive chokestones to get over and down from. The plunge pools below started dry, but as we got further into this deepening gorge, they got slick first, then had over-the-boot deep water, making the going with dry feet a challenge (we both maintained dry socks!).

We stopped for a snack, and poked around a little side canyon; it didn't go very far until each of it's two branches became vertical. Soon after resuming our journey, Chris noted that the pair of prints we had been following were gone. Strange--neither of us noticed any "escape" out of the deep canyon, and we didn't pass anyone.

The narrows run out after you pass under an old sheepherders bridge--I doubt highly that I'd try to cross it myself. We followed for another hour maybe, meandering in a beautiful scoured drainage lined by the constantly changing character of the sandstone walls--sometimes smooth and curving, with huge water streaks running down the vertical walls, sometimes highly textured by strata or water and wind. Awesome.

After debating for a second, we decided we needed to head back up the canyon to get back to the vehicles before dark. It was a hoot climbing back up and over all the obstacles we came down, stemming over the narrow canyon by wedging ourselves between the two walls and shimmying our way along. We once again noticed the two sets of tracks that didn't belong to us--still no sign of where the owners went, or how they got out of the canyon.

We had no trouble finding our way back to the vehicles and a couple of almost cold beers--and noticed the other car down the road was gone. Weird. Chris made a great red bean, rice, sausage and salad dinner, and we chilled out until we had our fill of shooting stars and the getting-cold air.

We woke this morning to a colorful sunrise, and absolute silence.

We went our separate ways after some more chatter, including the idea of checking out sites for AFXII--possibly near Goblin Valley/Little Wildhorse Canyon--Chris might have more to say later.

The ride home was great, a slow journey over the San Rafael River and on to Green River, then the frontage "road" along the freeway to Clay Hills, finally hitting the pavement by the Moab airport, only fifteen miles from home. I even got to meet Collette for lunch before going home and getting mauled by the dogs--who would have never made it through the obstacles of the surprisingly pretty slot canyon.

some pix can be found:

Pictures

MM