And God Said, "Just Do It."

I read this interesting article in Time magazine, so please check it out and look for my reaction post later today.

http://www.time.com/time/magazine/article/0,9171,1818197,00.html

This is one trend I hope the LDS church does not get involved with. It turns my stomach to think that "Larry," who is a bricklayer with a nervous laugh during the week but becomes "the bishop" when he puts on a tie and suit would think he has any perogative telling my celestial sex partner and I when, where and how to have sex. That also goes for those higher in the hierarchy. Also, I personally don't believe sex is the solution to a stale marriage, but the lack of it more a symptom of a floudering one-- having more bad sex, because let's face it when you aren't happy with your partner the sex can only be bad, won't jump start a relationship that's falling apart on all the other levels. While I see nothing wrong with scheduling sex, I simply think the belief that having more of it will improve your marriage is just another way to avoid the deeper issues.

At least these kinds of sermons will help keep the evangelicals in their bedrooms!

Of Good Report AND Praiseworthy

I've always been somewhat satisfied with the body I got put into except for one thing, my skin (okay, at times my weight). It's sensitive, prone to breakouts, and dry--plus now it's showing signs of aging. Well, I recently found something to at least take care of the dryness and guess what? It isn't found at the beauty counter, doesn't cost a fortune, and it's all natural. In fact, if you run to your pantry and look you might already have it- safflower oil. Yes, you can use it for more than salad dressings. I've cleaned out an old plastic soap dispenser and dumped it in so it's less messy. Each night before I go to bed I slather it on, then wear long pajamas. In the morning I put more on my legs after I've put on shorts. A few months back I ran across a dermatologist's article on treating dry skin and eczema which said safflower oil was the best moisturizer and so far it's been working for me!

There Is Beauty All Around?

One of my closest friends built a custom home in a suburb of Salt Lake City and I went to visit her after she’d finished decorating it. When I walked into the entryway, I had to walk back outside and look above the door to see if I’d missed the sign for Cabela’s. What I’d walked into was a living room full of dead, stuffed animals and a tall red rifle vault. On top of the television was a peasant ready to fly off with the entertainment center in its talons, a duck floating on a wooden end table, and a swan perched on the long sofa table. I stood wondering how much hunting prowess it’d taken to shoot the last two out of a park pond. When I sat on the leather couch I felt onstage as dozens of beady glass eyes from the cervidae family of animals glared down at us. On the log mantle stood a giant Christus with a redundant church distribution center painting overhead, a family photo of everyone dressed in denim resting on the hearth.

Now this isn’t a blog entry on hunting or animal cruelty, it’s about a trend I’m seeing in member taste, or lack thereof. I’m just suggesting the Ensign might want to include some articles on decorating as member homes (especially in Utah) tend to fall into three categories- Mormon kitsch, old world, or hunting lodge, however there are exceptions and hopefully your abode is one of them.

I want to focus on the Mormon kitsch decorating style as it seems the most common among stateside members. Here’s the basic decorative combination, you’ll know how devout you are by the number of objects you’re currently displaying.
1- A headshot of Christ and if you’re aiming for a bishopric position, then putting up five more will improve you chances (Christ in Red Robe by Del Parson is the classic)
2- A temple photo and if it’s one with a hidden image, even better or recently I’ve seen them etched in glass or on a mirror
3- A chimey and cheap upright Baldwin piano
4- On top of that piano there must be at least one Willow Tree figurine, a Christus, or the latest homemaking project
5- A vinyl sign or lettering that says something like, “Roberts Family, Established 1997” or “Love is Spoken Here”
6- And for those needing the daily reminder and maybe wanting to show off, the $185 dollar framed Family Proclamation or Articles of Faith currently available at Deseret Book (my mother-in-law has been frantic for one)

I’ll save the other two decorating styles and the size of Utah garages for another entry, but I wanted to bring it to everyone’s attention in case someone was looking for a spontaneous Relief Society topic for Sunday. And for those of you who think decorating in Mormon kitsch is perfectly lovely, well, you may see the Mormons conquering American Idol, Dancing With the Stars, and Survivor, but there hasn’t been a member that's won Top Design or Design Star.
I’m just saying…

A Rose By Any Other Name Would Smell As Sweet

Since our children are boys, I’ve let my celestial sex partner handle the topic of how they should refer to their private parts. Personally, I was thinking we’d use the anatomical terms, but my CSP was concerned that we’d be at some public place and one of them would yell out something embarrassing about their penis, so instead he opted for the name, “peeper,” which I have to say is cute. However, I only let the boys watch Noggin television (commercial free) and every hour the station owl mascot comes on urging the kids to, “Point your peepers at this,” before a new program starts and I’m sure my preschooler is now terribly confused. Since my oldest son has just turned four, he’s asking a lot of questions about my anatomy, so I’m wondering if he’s at the age where I can no longer change in front of him or do the occasional quick shower together. A few weeks ago we were both in the shower when he asked, “Mommy, what are those?” as he pointed to my chest.
“Those are breasts,” I replied.
“Why?” his new favorite word.
“Well, they are how babies get mother’s milk.”
“Like sippies on your body?” And I burst into laughter nodding my head.
Then, two days ago we went to Target and I needed to get a new bra. I don’t even bother to try things on anymore since one of them always opens the door or crawls into the next room. So I picked out a bra and tossed it in the cart.
“Why do you wear that on your milks?” asked my oldest.
I had to suppress laughing at the term “milks” that he'd come up with.
“So they don’t fall down.” I reasoned.
“They fall off if you don’t wear one?” he asked.
“Sometimes I wish they would.” And some days I really do wish they would.

So, around your house what terms are you using to describe your bits and berries? For those of you with older kids, at what age would you suggest a mother stop changing/showering with her kids?

Do As I'm Doing, Follow, Follow Me

Tonight I went to a mother’s gathering where I met some other mothers and when they heard I’m from Utah, they immediately wanted to know about polygamy, which happens to be something I know quite a bit about. To give you some background, in 2001 I met Tom Green, a polygamist who was married to five women and was convicted of four counts of bigamy later that year. I’d expected to get an uneasy feeling from him, you know that letchy creepiness that sends a shiver down your spine? Well, I didn’t come away with that at all and after several years of being in the presence of criminals and misfits of every sort, I consider myself a good barometer of people. What I did find was a man who deeply believed in his religion, loved his family, and was socially awkward so his interview left me wanting to better understand the principle he was willing to go to prison for. In 2005 I found myself with a free summer and I started researching polygamy which lead me to writing a novel that I’m still working on, and working on, and working on.

Anyway, one of the women I met tonight asked why the FLDS thought it was okay to marry girls who were around fourteen-years-old and it’s a complicated answer with many reasons, but the most important one hasn’t gotten much coverage in the media and it’s bothering me. The FLDS take everything literally from the Book Of Mormon (except the Word of Wisdom) and the life of Joseph Smith. Those of you who read church history undoubtedly know of the prophet’s polygamy, including his marriages to two fourteen-year-old girls- Helen Mar Kimball and Nancy Winchester (may have been fifteen), five of his other wives were under eighteen. In light of Joseph Smith’s example, the FLDS view this as God saying it’s acceptable to marry teens, so you can understand my doubts when the FLDS spokesman stands on a dusty road outside the YFZ ranch and says they will no longer marry underage women.

I just wanted this noted so a handful of years from now when they find out girls are still being married underage (or promised)—but might be waiting until the legal age to consummate it, I can say, “I told you so” and feel bad about having to say it. Do you believe the FLDS when they say they won't marry underage girls and how young is too young to marry?

We Are The Gene Pool Gatekeepers

I read a shocking statistic from the Wall Street Journal- 38% of children are now born out of wedlock, a number that is rising. 28% are born to white single mothers, 50% among Hispanics, and 71% for blacks. It took my brain some time to wrap around those numbers and what they mean for the future of this country. One might be inclined to blame men for these atrocious statistics and I do, but I blame women more. As women it’s a biological fact that when we choose to have childbearing sex without negotiating the protective contract of marriage, we are often the ones left to shoulder all of the responsibility unless we’ve chosen a mate wisely. By not demanding that men become husbands before being fathers, we are helping to create a generation that will continue the welfare state unless something is done to better ensure a man’s accountability. Plus, gender equality can never be realized until both sexes are equally “burdened” by the day-to-day physical and financial acts of caring for children.

With statistics like these, do you think the ratio of whites to blacks in prison will ever improve? By having this new generation growing up without a father as husband, what do you think the future of our country will be?

Ladies, we are the gatekeepers to the gene pool and it’s time we blew the lifeguard’s whistle because too many of us are entering the water with a turd in our pocket instead of a ring on our finger.

Clearing The Way For the Rest Of Us

If you haven’t already read it, the LDS church has written a letter to be read to wards in California on June 29th concerning an “anti-gay marriage” amendment. I’m just thinking the church may want to ask themselves how this letter got posted on http://www.wikileaks.org/ over a week before it was supposed to be read…

Anyway, it asks members to support the passing of a constitutional amendment that would define marriage as being between, “a man and a woman” by donating their, “means and time.” Now these times, they are a changin’ and I fully expect that in my lifetime, regardless of any church coalition's best efforts, I will witness marriage legalized in many forms- homosexual, polygamy, and polyandry. Personally, I hope gay marriage gets the green light because that means polyandry is just that much closer to being okay and a few more husbands is exactly what I need. First of all, I’m thinking four husbands is the right number for me- a smart one, a good looking one, a bad boy, and one that knows how to do hair. Can you imagine how rich we’d be if all of my husband’s had jobs? Plus, I’d be unbelievably powerful in the house because with women, there’s only so much sex to go around. The good news for them is that they could split up my “honey do” list and it would make sense to dedicate one bathroom in the house to always having the seat up. They’d never be lonely for someone to play video games with and the Elder’s Quorum would no longer have to come over to help move heavy furniture. Yes, I hope “those gays” as my mother-in-law says, get to be married because it clears the way for those of us with bigger marital ambitions. Maybe if I had four husbands, one of them would finally be able to take out the trash.

Religion For Sale

I’ve been to Vatican twice and one of my favorite parts of going is to stop at the massive gift shop. I could spend hours musing over all the Catholic trinkets that range from the sacred to the profane, from the cheap to the steep. One of my favorite items is a snow globe with a gaudy-looking Pope John Paul II waving out to the world beyond the domed glass. The first time I went I left the gift shop thinking how disgusting it was that they’d used The Pope and Jesus as a marketing tool to sell everything from T-shirts to backscratchers. Well, fast-forward ten years and picture me walking into a Deseret Book after a decade of reprieve and experiencing those same thoughts all over again. But they aren’t the only ones due credit, it seems for many LDS companies it’s now perfectly acceptable to put the image of Joseph Smith, Christ, a temple, scriptures or any other Mormon icon on some bauble and emotionally sell it at a financial premium. Here are some of the current products available that I find to be egregious.

Joseph Receives The Golden Plates Action Figure $5.95
A sacred moment now “Made In China” from vinyl

$20.99 I know it's a little hard to read but it says, “CTR, Bitches”

Isn’t this the perfect thing to send Tiffany Sue to her first day of 4th grade in?

$14.95 It used to be you’d get out of the font and mom would be waiting with a raggedy towel from home, not anymore, now everything surrounding any LDS event is a sellable product…even a towel.

Well, I’m thinking of cashing in on the LDS product craze myself by making and selling Bobblehead Joseph’s, just think of the marketing—“setting him on your dashboard brings a touch of the spirit to your car.” You laugh at my sarcasm, but give it a few months and someone else will have made one and be living large on the East Bench.

Of Good Report AND Praiseworthy

I have several strange addictions, but the one that rules my life is my need for information. If you walk into my bathroom or closet you will find tumbling stacks of magazines, books, and newspapers. Every evening after the kids are in bed I read the local newspapers, about three magazines, a few book chapters, and then I go to my computer at about 11PM to peruse the fresh news headlines and blogs, before I write for two hours. Clearly, I have a problem.

The other day I decided that I needed to narrow down my reading choices starting with choosing one magazine I couldn't live without and it's called, "The Week." www.theweekdaily.com Why is this magazine so awesome? Well, it's pretty much every magazine next to my tub summarized into twenty pages. It hits the highlights of everything from the best TV shows on the next week, to the craziest tabloid headlines, and onto a roundup of world politics, essays, and beauty advice. In just 30 minutes I can know everything that went on in the world in every category. So, if you're a busy mom who's an infophile like me, this magazine is a shortcut worth picking up.

It's The Thought That Counts

Warning: For those of you lacking a racy sense of humor, please stop reading here and please, please don't view the photos with this entry or you may find yourself longing for your own pair of plastic soap dispenser breasts.

I have one brother and his whole life he's had to defend himself against several opinionated sisters, especially now that he's pushing thirty, isn't married, and is still living with the folks. We have a long-running gag in the family that started when we were preteens and one of us girls got the brilliant idea to wrap up the sex respect book we'd received at school and give it to him. The next year he retaliated by getting us each a pair of gold lame' underwear, presenting them in front of the grandparents nonetheless. I actually caught one of my sisters wearing them around... From there it continued, ending with last year when my youngest and craftiest sister made homemade merkins for everyone (Super Saturday project idea?), complete with hairy green fabric from the Halloween clearance bin. Clearly, we're sick people. Well, I've been carting around some great gift ideas of my own with my brother as target. Please let me know which one you'd go with.

Handz Off Anti-Masturbatory Cream
$9.50- Instant relief lasting up to 6 hours. Helps you beat nature's urges around the clock.Instructions for use: Privacy is strongly recommended. Cream should be applied liberally and rigorously to affected areas. Massage thoroughly, repeating as necessary and avoiding eyes, mucous membranes and carpet. Never exceed 10 uses per day. More frequent use could cause other conditions, such as blindness.


Shower Breasts
14.50L- Silly question but do you fancy fondling a pert pair of bosoms in the shower every day? We have the answer, Shower Breasts are a fun and saucy shower gel/shampoo dispenser. This naughty nipple-topped pair attaches to your shower wall, each bosom having a compartment for shower gel or shampoo. To dispense, simply squeeze away... enjoy!

(Honestly, I'm not sure my mom will let this one in her house)

Potty Putter
9.95L- Whether you need some more amusement in the loo or you just need to put in some serious practice time, the Potty Putter is a sure fire way to iron out the kinks in your putting game and make a trip to the loo that much more interesting. The Potty Putter is a true innovation in toilet entertainment and the perfect gift for the golf (or toilet) enthusiast in your life!

Weird Things Are Starting To Happen

A few months ago I got myself a Facebook page and it’s been a blessing and a curse. Suddenly people I haven’t thought of in almost two decades are my “friend” again, several of them folks I really didn’t want to recall. For instance, tonight I reconnected with my first kiss. This momentous event was with my neighbor boy who was two years older than me. I was sixteen at the time and he’d offered to walk me home after a late-night summer game of catch the flag with mutual friends. I should’ve known something was up since I lived just across the street. When I got to the garage door he lunged forward, his mouth on mine, his braces grating again my lips while his tongue tried to bypass my fortress of straight teeth. It was like something out of Alien. I was surprised since I had no idea he'd any interest, plus he was dating the girl next door. Disappointed THIS was my first kiss, I graciously pulled away and said goodnight. I ran inside and told my mother and the next day I told all the girls in the neighborhood. Bad move on my part, but by now from reading my entries, you know it was predictable. When word got back to him that I’d told everyone about the kiss, he denied it. I was crestfallen and branded a liar since he had more credibility in our ward.

Moving on to fifteen years later, I link up with him through Facebook. When I look as his profile picture I see a grown man with a wide receding hairline who hasn’t aged well, a husband, a father and it scares me. I know that if the world views him as someone getting on in years then I’m not far off. It’s nice to be reminded of my youth, even if it’s not my happiest memory but my best revenge is that my husband is one of those men who looks more spectacular with age. Hopefully my first kiss checks out the photo gallery so he knows I'm kissing on a better man every night...wow, seeing that guy on Facebook makes me feel younger, I'm thinking like a sixteen-year-old again.

Even My Neighbor's Dog Is Pregnant

The newest fashion item around town seems to be the much touted “baby bump.” Sadly, I had my latest one a season earlier so I’m currently without the hip accessory. What can I say, I’m always passé when it comes to trends. It seems every time I find myself at the checkout counter some tabloid headline is blaring about a skanky starlet whose tummy is looking suspiciously distended, well, where I come from that’s called being bloated from greasy pizza at lunch. The current census report shows America is experiencing a baby boom, especially in Utah were one in three households is married with children. So that had me asking, why all the procreation? Fortunately there’s a blog entry on lds.net that has a logical theory- God is sending his reinforcements for the last days. “Obedience in maternity clothes,” remarks one believing commenter. Huh? I was surprised to see the blogger was “Vanessa” and not FLDS prophet Warren Jeffs because he had a similar argument when he was urging the women in Colorado City to have a baby a year. No Vanessa, I don’t think that’s the reason lots of people are getting pregnant. I don’t know what it is, but I plan on having another child in two years and only because I read Angelina Jolie isn’t done having kids.

My Mom Crush

By now you’ve probably heard the term “girl crush” used to describe the non-sexual feelings a young woman may have for another woman- usually one who is much cooler, attractive, and intelligent than the one with the crush. Remember when there was all that media about Oprah and her friend Gail being gay, which of course was wrong, but clearly Gail is the one with the crush. Anyway, laying in bed last night I realized I’ve developed a “mom crush.” There’s a woman in my playgroup who is similar to myself, but the 2.0 version with sexier graphics and I’m in awe of her. Whever we get together she has fantastic stories about places she’s traveled recently, books she’s read, classes she’s taken and she knows everyone in town. Her kids are always dressed in the most dapper clothes, with their hair brushed and it actually stays in place (ahem, Julie Beck’s Wet Dream During General Conference 2007). While I’m busy fumbling through my diaper bag to find crushed animal crackers for the kids to snack on, she calmly pulls out matching tupperware loaded with veggies she’s carved into lincoln logs. When I see her at the gym in the hot pink workout clothes I couldn’t fit into in the Target dressing room, her sweat actually glistens while mine pools under my armpits adding another stain to the free T-shirt I got on our last cruise. The thing that sucks about this crush is that I really want to hate her, but she’s nice and doesn’t realize how incredible she is. I could be supped up like her but, well, I like to waste my time watching TV instead of being that organized, plus my kids have cowlicks. So, I’ll just go on admiring her, hoping that when she pulls off that hot pink workout outfit she’s got a hideous third nipple she’s hiding underneath them and that when all is said and done, she’s got a crush on some other mom who probably just thinks of herself as ordinary too.

Gentleman, The Research Agrees

Back on June 2nd, I put up a post titled, "It's Just That Simple," on how I find it sexy when my celestial sex partner does housework. Well, today on CNN there was a story about research that shows women are turned on by a mate who helps out, and why shouldn't he when that same research revealed your celestial sex partner creates seven more hours of housework for you...

Here's the link: http://www.cnn.com/2008/LIVING/personal/06/17/housework.relationships/index.html

I would advise printing the article out, rolling it up and then attaching it to a bottle of dish soap with a pair of lacy underwear. Martha Stewart don't you dare steal this gift idea.

Like Animals At The Zoo

A few weeks back my husband and I found ourselves awake long before the kids would get up. Sounds like a good time to have sex, right? Well, we sleep with the bedroom door open so we can hear anyone who gets up in the night, but we were so caught up in the moment we didn’t think to shut the door. You guessed it, right at that critical moment I looked over and there sitting on the bed was our three-year-old. “I want milk,” he pouted bare-chested in his Spiderman underwear, hair standing on end. “Um, sure,” I stuttered pulling the covers up, my husband diving for his garments. The whole day I babied our son thinking we’d ruined any chance he'd have at a normal marital relationship, but how lucky we were he hadn’t gone blind from what he’d seen.

The next day I recounted the horror to my newlywed sister so she wouldn’t make the same mistake in the future and to my surprise, she had a long running list of ward members she’d seen “in flagrante delicto” while attending their daughter’s slumber parties over the years. I have no idea how one person can be in the wrong place at the wrong time so often, but maybe that’s her Abrahamic test in life. Let me just say I’m disappointed I no longer go to my home ward because I’d have some awesome dirt to wield.

At the playground when I told the child-scarring sex story to my friends they all shrugged it off. Seems all their little Timmy’s and Tiffany’s are also getting quite the sex education from mom and dad, plus they had their own stories of walking in on the folks. I didn’t even know my parents were having sex until my wedding night when mom closed the door to her bedroom and passed along the generational advice of, “With sex you can get your husband to do anything.” How true mom, how true.

So, I left myself off the hook of guilt knowing our son had no idea what he’d seen, then I made my husband pinky swear he’d be in charge of shutting the door since he sleeps closest to it, and chalked it all up to being like the other animals in the suburban zoo.

Sometimes I'm Sure God Is Dead

I’ve always had an addiction to sharing news and information, which is why I made that field my career and part of why I write this blog. After a decade of reading, writing, or relaying countless violent stories, I have thick mental skin, but tonight I read something that made me get my sleeping baby out of his crib and rock him, then I sat in the bathtub and wept, wondering if there is a compassionate God- yes, I have doubting days. I saw this story on the AP wire tonight,
www.news10.net/news/local/story.aspx?storyid=43260&catid=2

When you have children it’s amazing how much such stories resonate. My husband reminded me there’s nothing I can do, that it's not my problem and that things like that happen every day- yes they do and where is God I wonder? I guess somehow it makes me feel better if people know about the ugly things in life because my hope in sharing such stories is that one day we'll be able to do something about it. I know that tomorrow when I wake up and look into my baby's blue, blue eyes, I'll again believe in a something greater than myself.

Of Good Report AND Praiseworthy

I’m a funny kind of shopper. I don’t enjoy aimlessly wandering the mall or driving from store to store. Usually when an item I “need” comes to mind I get a detailed visual, for instance, I wanted a new belt and not just any belt, this one had to have a wide brown elastic waistband with dark leather detailing in the front and a thick front ring. I wanted the belt so badly I took to the mall and couldn’t find anything close, so in desperation I went to the web. Luckily, I found a website that saved me hours of searching multiple sites. It’s called, www.shopstyle.com You can search for exactly what you want and it will show you all the sites that offer something fitting your description. Just yesterday I decided I’d be brave and get a swimsuit online. I wanted a tankini with underwire, padding, that didn’t tie behind the neck and had a swim skirt bottom. www.shopstyle.com found it for me instantly. Now I’m just crossing my fingers that when it arrives I don’t look like I should be on the tennis court instead of at the pool.

Saving Pennies For Heaven

I’m seventh generation Mormon pioneer stock and as such, a thriftiness gene has been breed into me and most other Utahns. Fighting the urge to be chintzy is a daily struggle, but I often find myself refilling water bottles (also good for environment), refusing to buy any article of clothing that costs over twenty dollars, and only eating out if I have a coupon when we can afford to not scrimp. However, like most people there are items that my wallet seems to fly open for (travel), but that’s not what this entry is about- it’s about the cheapness that abounds in the mountain state and what it says about our values.

For instance, when I got married I received a gift set of mixing bowls and since they were a duplicate, I returned them to “Wally World” only to find they cost $10, and there were five families on the card! My in-laws, the most devout LDS people you’ll ever meet, love bragging to friends about how they only spent $600 bucks on one of their daughter’s weddings, not to mention that I wouldn’t have to strain myself to count the number of times they’ve bought us dinner as opposed to us buying. And don’t even get me started on the small tips they leave and they're both well-paid professionals. Another sign Utahns are penny-pinchers, my friends often pay the babysitter five dollars an hour, one of them for four kids under age eight.

I didn’t realize until I moved out-of-state how bad the culture of cheap was and when we do things like that, it says how little we value other people and their time. Why is type of thoughtless frugality often seen as a virtue in the LDS society? I know that when my in-laws die they plan to donate everything to the church; I guess they’re saving up so what they give is enough to buy them the best place in heaven.

What outrageous acts of cheapness have your seen? Do you think there’s a connection between Utah Mormonism and stinginess?

I.P. Freely Changes Name to Ivana Tinkle-Olone

I just went to the bathroom and it was fantastic. Why? Because the kids were in bed and I was all alone. For women there’s a whole evolution behind using the bathroom and I know that if I had the time, there’s a book topic in there, maybe. My personal history on the subject started much like everyone else’s- diapers, training pants, then big girl underwear. That’s where my story takes a wild turn. I wet my pants constantly so I was taken to a urologist who did all kinds of tests only to discover the lone problem was I couldn’t be bothered to stop what I was doing and use the bathroom. Twenty-five years and many close calls later, not much has changed in that respect. What has changed is now I have an audience whenever I race to the toilet. If I shut the door, I’m left with children howling outside, pounding at the door with my oldest yelling something like, “Mom, the baby just ate a rock.” I try to dismiss what he’s said, but then I think maybe this time he’s telling the truth so I throw open the door ready to run into the playroom, my pants down, only to find the baby is sitting quietly as a hanger-on to my bathroom entourage. So lately I’ve been leaving the door open with mixed results. While I can now pee without panic, I’ve left myself open to all sorts of questions, “Mom, why don’t you tinkle standing up?” or “Mom, how come it stinks?” Well, today my celestial sex partner almost walked in on our gathering, with me sitting bare-bottomed at the center of the potty convention. After eleven years he’s seen me in every imaginable state except one, using the bathroom. As newlyweds we agreed that we’d never watch the other use the bathroom and that’s a boundary that has never been crossed, which I hear is uncommon. So now I’m back to closing the door with the ensuing bedlam outside, but knowing that someday I’ll always be alone in my bathroom, well, at least until I need their help getting onto my throne when I can remind them there was a time that all they wanted to do was watch me go to the bathroom.

So, what’s the “peeing policy” between you and your CSP? If you have kids, do you too have to use the bathroom with the door open?

Jesus Is My Hedge Fund Manager

My celestial sex partner works in the financial industry so we’ve always been cautious about saving for retirement, but statistics clearly show most Americans aren’t building a large enough nest egg. Currently Utah ranks #14 in the nation for retirement savings, not bad, but in
talking with other women over the past year I’ve noticed a new phenomenon- some young LDS families aren’t saving because they believe the Lord will provide when the time comes or the Millennium will start before they reach retirement age. This thinking is propelled by pulpit admonishments that we’re living in the last days and we’re the chosen generation, which gives some members a false sense of timing. Besides, who’s to say Jesus will show up and you won’t need money anymore? National numbers clearly show this country is headed toward a retirement crisis and those of us who’ve saved over the course of our lifetimes will be forced to pick up the tab for those who chose to play or pray instead. So, to those of you choosing not to put money away because Jesus is coming, well, here’s some advice, start now because you can’t all be Wal-Mart greeters.

http://compensation.blr.com/display.cfm/id/155692

What's Your Frequency Kenneth?

There’s one thing my best girlfriend and I love to chat about when we get together and that’s sex. Who’s having it (or had it) with whom, where, how/why they did it, and how often. I’m surprised that in an LDS circle of friends we have so much to talk about when it comes sex, but we’ve agreed that this too will pass as we all get older and our thoughts turn to erectile dysfunction, incontinence, or constipation.

As it now stands, if her husband were to join a naked line-up of men with paper bags on their heads, I’d place good money on my being able to pick him out even though I’ve only seen him in Dockers and a polo. You could say that when they have sex, I get a little piece of the action as well and trust me people, I’m not asking for it. One of the reasons she’s my best friend is because she’s one of the few people who can make my jaw drop and then show up to lead the primary music looking like she just came from an Ensign photo shoot. No one would suspect a thing and she’s probably living right next to you! Maybe she is you…

Well, recently, one of our discussions turned to how frequently we're having sex. I wasn’t real comfortable with this topic because it’s my husband’s biggest gripe and I felt even worse after she revealed they were having sex at least twice a week. They even had a month where they tried to have sex every day… I’d go blind after a week! Then last night I read in Cookie Magazine’s “Mrs. Young” section that their poll revealed- “…manage to have sex once a week (19 percent) or even more often (32 percent). Plus, 77 percent of us say we would like to have sex more frequently. The result that caused me the most worry, though, was the 18 percent who say they do it only a couple of times a year.” www.cookiemag.com/homefront/mrsyoung/2008/04/mrsyoungmay

Alright, what person with kids wouldn’t say they wanted sex more frequently---um, should I scrub off the high chair for the fifth time today or have sex? And, okay, those people only having sex a few times a year, God bless you, you make wives like me look like an energized harlot. So, here’s the solution to maintaining frequency that my celestial sex partner and I came up with—the “Sunday Sextacular,” and yes, it was me who came up with the name. Now all he does is hiss "SS" in my ear and I know I'm on the hook as we've dedicated Sunday night as our night to have sex come hell or high water. Think of it as a naughty Family Home Evening for adults, but without an opening hymn. While yeah, the mood may strike to have sex on another night, our SS is locked in on the calendar no matter what. (Note to home teachers and my mother: now you know one of the reasons we say "no" to Sunday night visits and why we don't answer the phone) One of the many benefits to a planned Sunday night rendezvous is it will have you waking up Monday morning starting the new week with a smile on your face.

Oh The Horror!

This weekend we went to the pool and I had nothing to wear but my maternity swimsuit top and some board shorts. Laying next to mothers dressed in flowery spandex suits or the few still brave and beautiful enough to wear itty-bitty bikini’s, I felt mismatched and underdressed. I vowed to get a new suit the next day. My mother reminded me of how awful it is to try on swimsuits with kids who will inevitably swing the dressing room door wide when you’re between changes, so she offered to baby sit while I went on a quest to find lycra strong enough to staple ripples of loose flesh to flaccid stomach muscles—at least until I reached the water and could stop sucking it in. J

Just two racks of swimsuits remained at the store, so I grabbed an armful of one-pieces and tankinis and in hopes of appearing more youthful, I tried on the two-pieces first only to find that where the bottom of the top and the top of the bottom met, there was a gap for my flat-tire tummy to ooze out. Many of the tops had a ‘70’s style with soft cups that tied behind the neck, but with those the flimsy pieces of fabric were not enough to fight gravity's gift of my "National Geographic" breasts. The one-pieces were no better with their frumpy fruit prints and high-cut legs. When I got to the register to buy the 80% off trench coat I’d found, the saleswoman asked, “Did you find everything?” I replied, “Well, if the fact that I came in for a swimsuit and I’m buying a coat tells you anything, then no, I didn’t.” She gave me a knowing smile. When I got home and showed my mother the coat she said, "Nice coverup. I've seen the kind of “suits” people wear under those and you'll be getting quite a bit of attention at the pool this year."

So, what’s your swimsuit horror story or are you one of those mom’s who can throw on a swimsuit and look fabulous without having to exfoliate, shave, wax, self-tan, paint your toenails, put on waterproof makeup, and then top it all off with the perfect hat and cover-up?

Of Good Report AND Praiseworthy

Here's my recommendation for the week. Recently, at the last minute, we were able to go out kid-free so in looking at the local concert venues I saw an artist whose music was described as "psychedelic Middle-Eastern." Since I'm someone eager to embrace unique experiences and cultures, I bought tickets having no idea what we were in for.

It turned out to be an exciting performance, especially those of the percussionist and cellist who were beyond other musicians I'd seen. Who knew the cello could sound like a sitar? So, for a new sound check out Haale. She's not only beautiful and talented, but she's a relief from all the factory pop of our day. Go to www.haale.com No every song is a winner, but my favorites include, "Off Duty Fortune Teller," and "Paratrooper." I will admit, my husband was not amused by the music!

Have We Come Far Enough?

Recently I went to lunch with two LDS friends who’ve lived in Utah their entire lives and our conversation turned to politics and race. “I don’t know why everyone keeps talking about people not voting for Obama because he’s black, I haven’t seen any racism,” said one of the women. That night I mulled over what she’d said and why she said it. I was raised in Utah, but I’d been away for a long time and I’d forgotten the racial isolation of the state’s suburbs. Recalling back to the Sunday school lessons I’d grown up with where blacks were marked for being “fence-sitters” or “less valiant” in the pre-existence, I realized that somewhere in my mind those teachings had given me an initial hesitation toward blacks. Right away, their dark skin color marked them as people who’d messed up even before they got to earth. In a way, my friend was right, she probably didn’t see much outward racism having never left Zion, where I’d been living in the South and had seen outrageous acts of prejudice. But I’ll ask you, which is worse—to experience blatant racism and know it for what it is, or to have it be something passive and unconscious that hides in people blind to racism because of their racial dominance in an area?

The Salt Lake Tribune had an article on the 30th Anniversary of the “all worthy men” revelation. www.sltrib.com/ci_9497769 I thought the last line from Tamu Smith was a great place to start an open discussion, “For racism to stop, we need to hear it condemned at Conference as often as pornography or abuse are.” What do you think?

You Call This A Vacation?

Today I fed my children stale donuts for breakfast, hissed threats into my four-year-old’s ear while clenching his arm (probably harder than I needed to), and told him the sign for Rainforest Café was because they served gorilla.

Yes, we’re on “vacation” and it’s been, well…okay. I have these fond memories of my childhood family trips and whenever I book travel, I have this belief that I’m creating the same thing for my children. Last night I couldn’t get the kids to go to sleep and I was spent when they finally did, only to be woken up by an uncomfortable bed, snoring, the party crowd coming in at 2AM, a baby who needed a bottle- three times, and then the kids got up at 6AM. So, that lead to my feeding them donuts bought the day before out of desperation, lots of whining topped off by my four-year-old screaming he wanted to jump from the tour boat because he was thirsty, and us wandering the dirty city streets looking for a particular restaurant when that Rainforest Café snuck up and almost ruined our plans. And those weren’t even the low points.

In talking with my mother it turns out she remembers our family trips quite differently than I do. Where I remember Cinderella’s Castle at Disneyland, she remembers my brother getting lost. At the Grand Canyon I recall the view, she just thinks of my brother running into a tree. I knew about those things, but I guess from a kid’s perspective they just seemed secondary to everything else that happened on the trip.

All I know is our next trip will be without the kids, but then guess what will happen, I’ll spend the whole time thinking, “I wish the kids were here so they could see this.”

So, you moms out there, what are some of your family vacation horror stories? What visions of vacation perfection did you have in your mind that went awry?

I'm Not Dead You Know!

It’s summer, ah summer, the warmth, the long days, the pool, and the sweaty young women in sports bras running on the bike path. Sometimes I’m amazed my husband hasn’t run into a tree. For years I’ve put up with him casting sideways glances at beautiful women, which by they way has made me wonder if God’s really male because if he is, wouldn’t he have put one eye on the side of men’s heads so they didn’t have to strain to be secretive about looking? If your celestial sex partner is like mine, he can’t help himself and after a decade plus of marriage, I’ve given up trying to change him. Instead, I changed myself.

Just the other day we were driving to the library and a pair of male bicyclists were in front of us. Let me just say that black spandex and a helmet aren’t such a bad combo, especially when they’re on top of two muscular pedal sticks. “What’re you looking at?” he asked in a teasing tone, my eyes were on the spandex, bobbing up and down with every pedal push. “I’m not dead you know,” was my terse reply.

And there it was, if summer brought out an abundance of eye candy, then we’d both have rotten teeth by the end of it. Plus I’ve got to admit, it’s ratcheted up the sexual tension in our relationship and given me new insight into what he finds attractive. Who knows, I might even buy some spandex shorts to pull out if he presents lingerie on our next anniversary. The only thing killing our new foreplay is the gangly guy with the body hair of a sweaty llama who insists on running in nothing more than tight running shorts and tube socks every morning- talk about a cold shower.

Yep, It's Just That Simple

Whenever I’m in a waiting room there’s always a men’s magazine with an article offering advice on how to turn a woman on. Let me tell you, from what I’ve read they’ve got it all wrong, at least where wives and mothers are concerned. Those magazine experts and doctors advise men to buy sexy lingerie or perfume, to light a candle, play romantic music or take her to dinner, which worked in my single and childless twenties, but now that’s too much to hope for so there’s one proven technique for getting me in the bedroom and it’s free, which is a bonus in our waning economy. Here it is- housework. Yep, it’s just that simple, but that doesn't make for sexy magazine articles. All my husband has to do is load the dishwasher or sweep the floor and I feel a moan forming in the back of my throat. If he bends over to pick up the sweaty grass-stained socks he’s left on the bedroom floor for three days, I get a tingle up my leg. If he needs a sure thing, he can take the kids for an hour and help them clean their rooms while I take bath and guaranteed, the man will go to sleep happy.

Now, here’s where this gets messed up- men don’t believe us. I’ve told my celestial sex partner this several times when he’s wondering why I’m too tired for sex, but I wake up the next morning to find his dirty garments on the floor next to the shower. So, the next time you go to a bachlorette party, skip giving your friend the skimpy underwear or love potions and put together a basket with paper towels, window cleaner, dish soap, and a scrub brush because after a year of marriage, seeing them in her husband’s hands is what’s going to do it for her.

Nursing Babies Young and Old, Really Old

My mother once told me that women marry their first baby and I now know it’s true. However, my husband has always been different than my other children in that among other things, I’ve never nursed him, but twice in the last few months I’ve had other nursing mothers confess to sharing a nip of breast milk with their spouse- intentional or not. Plus, another mother confessed to trying her own milk because she wanted to know what her baby was getting. Yeah, sometimes play date discussions turn into major over share sessions, but I guess that’s how we know what the Jones’s are doing (and it’s great blog fodder). Now seriously ladies, am I missing something? I don’t know about you, but I’m going to be candid here, when I’m in the nursing phase, my bra never comes off, especially during sex as I have a strict policy of never mixing business with pleasure. All I had to do was slap my celestial sex partner’s hand a few times and he got it.

Which takes me to nursing the young- walking in the mall a few weeks back, I saw a mother sit down at the fountain and pick up a little boy who had to be about two or more, and discreetly breastfeed him. It was fascinating to watch the faces of passersby- some scrunched their noses, and others winked, cheering her on.

I know, this is one of those serious cultural taboos, but at what age should you put the tasting menu away for your babies- 1, 2, 5, …30?