The Cutest Girl there Ever Was

Unrelated to anything Mormon, but this is the newest member of the family:

Look at that fluffy little cutie pie. 

- Emily

The Storm - This is what my last day on earth looks like...

The view from the Villa

My last day on earth is stormy and filled with huge gusts of wind. 

Looks like Jesus hit Sint Maarten. ;)
- Emily

Like Mother Like Daughter

Forget that! Get her a taller pair of heels. Louboutin perhaps? No? I'll take them! 

B's and my dumb roommate dropped a glass on the floor the other day. Our floors are all tile, pretty hard tile at that. Maybe marble? Whatever type of tile they are, the glass shattered across the floor. He swept up the majority of it half-assedly.

A few days go by. I'm in the kitchen making dinner, barefoot. Shoes track in a shit load of sand and it's been pretty rainy the last few days. I step over to the stove and....."Fuck! Fuck! Fuck!"

Mixing dinner with profanity. I am a true lady.

B looked up from his studies, concerned.

"Got a piece of glass stuck in my fooooot. I need a warm tub of water. OW!"

I went to grab a broom so I could sweet the damn floor -- properly.

B stopped filling up a bowl of water. Took the broom out of my hand.

"Go sit down, Charlotte."

I glared.

"I've seen the crazy hobble before." he said.

Charlotte is my mother.

I sat down soaking my foot while B swept up and came over to look at the glass stuck in my heel.

"Wow, you really stomped on that. It's in there pretty deep. It's small, but sharp."

He went upstairs and came back with a glove on one hand, Neosporin and a bandaid in the other. He teased out the piece of glass. Blood slowly dripped into the rag he cleaned my foot off with. I howled, because I'm a baby like that and that piece of glass was in there deep. He told me he needed to cut off the little piece of skin covering the puncture so he could properly clean it. I refused. No way, Dr. B. And don't call me my mother ever again.

I realize it though. I get all upset about people cleaning things up half way and not doing a good enough job. I catch myself wanting B to stay out of the kitchen because That's MY space. I want to slaughter The Roommates for not putting away their motherfucking dishes OR emptying the dishwasher. Just because I'm the only woman in the house does not make me the damn maid. I want to put a sign above the sink saying WASH YOUR OWN DISHES.

To be fair, they aren't filthy pigs. There aren't flies floating around our garbage and everything is generally clean. But, if there are dishes in the sink, does anyone empty the clean dishwasher? No. They pile the dishes in the sink until I empty the dishwasher. B told me, "Stop doing their dishes, Emily"

"No! It won't fucking get down otherwise!"

He looked at me like he wished I wasn't Charlotte.

"It will get done."

Ahh. Good old fashioned gender roles. They exist and are perpetuated even without The Church. How much about women staying home and cooking and cleaning was engrained in us through The Church and how much did we learn from society? Both roommates are from very traditional families. J is Asian and A is from The South. B, well he puts his dishes in the dishwasher, Thank You Very Much. He takes out the trash. Sometimes he makes dinner. And he always helps clean up, even just a little bit. His mom worked his whole life and his dad stayed home. He's used to seeing his dad do the dishes.

My dad, I've seen him do the dishes maybe twice? He works hard for my mom to spend as much money as she does and let me tell you -- Charlotte is no saint.

I just wonder. Is it The Church? Society? Family? All three?

And how do I keep my kids from thinking Mama does the wash and Papa does the real work.

B and I have a unique situation. He goes to school all day long and studies. I write small posts for a blog back home and babysit every other day. I run the school's little Coffee Cart once a week. I definitely have more time on my hands. But, should that mean I clean up everyone's shit? I don't think so. I'll do B's laundry. I'm already doing my own. I'll make dinner, I need to eat too. B likes to help when he has the time. He always comes down and sits with me while I cook so I don't feel alone.

I don't want to be one of those women that treats their husbands like a mental retard when it comes to all things House Related. Is there a line that needs to be drawn? Is there a line? Should there be?


How do you handle these areas in your own relationships?

Did they differ once you were no longer a believer? Once you no longer bought into that 1950's Stereotype Bullshit?

Am I a little bit grouchy today?




-Emily





Yes. 

My New Best Friend is a Mormon?

When the spouse organization of B's medical school hooked me up with a sponsor, I was dismayed to find out the girl, Carolyn, was from Utah. I panicked. I agonized over what I would say to her once she asked if I was Mormon.

Would I say, I used to be? 
Would I say, My family is, but I'm not? 
Would I offend her?

I feel this need to proclaim to everyone: I am NOT Mormon. See, my Mormon background does not define me! Look, I'm from Utah and I'm not Mormon. Don't even THINK that I'm Mormon. I will impress you with my non-Mormon ways. 

Omigod!!Joseph'sMythProfitBookofMormonMusicalNPRDemocrat

IhateGlenBeck!AntiProp8ProChoice!HellShitDamnBooze!GoUtes!!

So when my sponsor invited me to go to the beach with her last week, I was a little nervous. I put on my bikini with pride, lathered up with sun screen (? Does sun screen "lather"?) and we headed out. Placed our towels on the sand and...Carolyn is wearing a bikini! I smiled. We started the typical Get-to-Know-You's. 

She asked, "What did your family think of you coming here?" 

I explained to her that they were very...conservative...and that they were pretty upset. That there was a little bit of drama. That my family hadn't really spoken to me in awhile. I mentioned they were Mormon.

She asked, "Are you Mormon at all?" 

I didn't skip a beat. 

No. 

She said, "Okay" and went on to talk about her frustrations with some of the Mormons on the island. She explained she hardly ever goes to church on the island. When she does, she stays for sacrament only. She doesn't think the Word of Wisdom is inspired. 

In fact, she couldn't even remember what it was called. 

"That thing. You know." 

"Uhhh? The Great Awakening? The Temperance Movement?" 

"No. No. That thing. No coffee and tea? If soda had been around then, for sure it would have been thrown in." 

"The Word of Wisdom?" 

"Yes. That. You know more than I do. You're a better Mormon than I am." 

I cringed at that one. But, she laughed and said she doesn't drink coffee or tea, but she wouldn't think twice if someone did. 

She's a convert. Maybe that's why she couldn't remember Word of Wisdom? 

She showed up to brunch wearing a swim suit under a sundress. I wonder if it's an excuse to not wear garments? 

I find it hard, even now, to throw off my judgements of Mormons. Tsk, Tsk. Where are your G's? You know better. 

Who cares? 

Am I better because I don't believe and therefore have no obligation? 

I find it interesting that although I don't believe the Mormons, I still judge like one. Categorizing those that are "better" Mormons than others. Hating the "good" Mormons and liking, but labeling, the "bad" Mormons. 

I snapped out of it, but I wish I didn't judge. 

In the meantime, I'm excited that my new Mormon friend is a "cool" Mormon. One of the least judgmental Mormons I've ever met. 

Thank God. 

- Emily

Lodestar

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After hearing an interview on NPR (as if I listen to anything else) with Anne Zimmerman, the author of An Extravagant Hunger: The Passionate Years of MFK Fisher , I wanted to read something by MFK Fisher. She was a food writer and if there are two things I love -- other than sleeping -- it's writing and eating. 

In one of the pieces in MFK Fisher's book As They Were, she mentions a lodestar. 

Anything can be a lodestar in a person’s life...

It is fortunate to recognize lodestars as such. They light our paths, and shape us mysteriously, and in the process can teach true humility.

A lodestar is a guiding light, like the North Star. Something that directs you were to go, shaping your path. I got to thinking. 

I don't think I have a lodestar. As a Mormon, I might have read lodestar as "Holy Ghost" or "Book of Mormon," but now. Do I have a lodestar? Do I have a guiding influence? For me, one of the most frustrating -- and scary -- parts of leaving the church was the feeling of Holy-Shit-What-Do-I-Believe-What-Controls-My-Life-Now!???! 

I panicked after reading the lodestar. I've been feeling a little lost and chaotic after the excitement of moving here as become a little more day to day. I have to slow down and remind myself that I don't have to have everything figured out. Especially right now. If I can't quite figure out exactly how much food it take to feed only two people, I'm not the biggest domestic failure there ever was. If I have no idea how to get anywhere on this island other than the grocery store and the medical school, I'm not a lost moron with no sense of direction. I'm new to the island! If I try to drive B's jeep with the broken emergency brake and touchy clutch and...run it into a tree without even leaving the parking lot and a big, fat man laughs at me and shouts to B: "Better start praying!" I'm not a dumb girl who can't even figure out how to drive. I panicked! If the other spouse's don't "click" with me right away, it's not because I'm a social retard who can't figure out how to make friends. I just need to relax and smile and keep trying to make friends. 

I think the biggest reason behind my panic at not having that Lodestar in my life is I was taught (however explicitly or in-explicitly) to distrust my own thoughts. I was taught the ultimate Lodestar was in control and I, as a human, had no fucking clue what was going on. I was weak, I needed guidance, I couldn't trust my own thoughts without the approval of those in authority. I lived for that approval. In some ways, I still do. And it kills me. I long for approval, but at the same time, loathe it because of what it represents: I still don't trust my own instincts. How could they possibly be right? 

While writing this, I came to a sort of mini-realization: Fuck this. I'll be my own Lodestar. My own guiding light. I'm calling the shots here. I don't have everything figured out, but don't panic. Breathe. Breathe. Breathe. 

Everything is going to be okay. De-programming and learning to trust yourself takes time. I sometimes feel like I'm not "recovering" as quickly as I should. The Church wasn't even that important to me until suddenly I had to evaluate it and then I realize how much it really did shape my thinking and EVERY SINGLE PART OF ME. 

I hate it. It's been almost two years and I still fucking hate it. 

Stop mindfucking me. Please. 

Just leave me alone. 

Let me be. 

Let me be me. 

Let me be my own Lodestar. 

- Emily

A Deleted Daughter

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Yesterday, I emailed my family wishing them a happy Mother's Day. I asked them how their family party went and about the weather. It's sad that our interactions (or lack thereof as you'll see in a minute) revolve around asking about the weather. I let them know that I found a job as a tutor of two little boys and that B and I went to look at a puppy. 

It made me a little sad that I didn't feel like I could mention anything that I'm really feeling like,  

Oh hey guys, you'll never guess how many mosquito bites I have! 15! They absolutely feast on my legs during the night. It's so hot here, it's a little hard to sleep and I hear it's supposed to be getting hotter.  But, I wake up so excited every morning to start my day and do new things. I'm nervous about running the Coffee Cart all by myself tomorrow because I can't count change. I think it will be alright, I just wish I didn't have to wake up so early. 5:30 AM comes pretty early on island time. All the students and spouses are really nice, but I think some of the new ones don't like me because I'm only here for eight months and B is 4th semester. Plus, we live in a nice villa AND I've had no trouble (so far) adjusting to island life. They seem like they like B, but when I invite them to things, they don't really respond. Maybe that's just me being a little insecure about finally trying to be a little outgoing. I always feel like I say the wrong thing to people or worry that they don't really like me. I've made friends with the mom of the family I tutor. She's really fun and invites me to do a lot with their family. It makes me feel better (especially since you all basically ignore me now). I'm also going to go to lunch with my sponsor (who's from Utah!) on Friday. Even though she's Mormon, I think we'll really get a long. She seems really friendly and maybe a little lonely. It's nice to know there are Mormons I can be friends with. That's the great thing, I can be myself and not worry if people are judging me! It's an awesome feeling. B and I are going to pick up the puppy on Wednesday. It's the smartest and cutest little thing. J (B's dad) loves it just from looking at the pictures. 


Running a house is hard work. I never realized how much effort is put into keeping up with laundry, doing dishes and making everything look nice. I think I've been doing a pretty good job, but it's only the first week. Mom sure had given me some stiff competition. I think almost everyday how she gets done in one hour what takes me a whole week. 

B has come down with a bad cold. He's coughing and going crazy. It's been hard for him to study because all he wants to do is sleep. I've tried to get him whatever he needs and I feel bad he's so miserable. I hope he'll feel better soon so he can really get back to studying. 

Well, I hope you had a good Mother's Day. I wish we could talk. 

- Emily

None of that really matters because I found out (by checking the family email when nobody responded) that they've just been deleting my emails.

I knew they were mad but, do they really hate me that much? Email is for keeping in touch with that old aunt you don't even like. I can't Skype them because my dad "forgot" his Skype password and I knew if I called from Skype nobody would pick up. My island phone doesn't work internationally unless you want to pay out the ass. Again, I don't think they would even answer and I didn't want to risk that rejection. I don't think I could handle it, even if I did say I don't really care.

It still hurts. 

A very merry un-Mother's Day

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It’s Mother’s Day today. I’m sure all the mothers at church enjoyed preparing Sacrament talks and cleaning up after the kids made them breakfast. Not to be cynical - but I am a little cynical - I’m really happy I’m not a mother today. Well, other than a potential mother to an adorable puppy named Emma and babysitter/tutor of two wild little boys.

I used to want kids early. Like, super early. Age 21 or 22 early.

The thought that I wanted to have probably 1 or 2 kids right now is a scary thought. I used to badger my boyfriend, “Please, we need to have kids right away! Perhaps by 23 or 24!”

Shit.

There is no way we could be living where we are and doing the things we’re doing:

copious amounts of writing, blogging, eating, cooking, friendmaking, puppy hunting and endless dishes, sweeping up sand ;) and laundry for me.

copious amounts of studying, reading, class, coffee, late nights and med. school stress for B.

if we had kids.

Maybe when I’m closer to 30. Med. school will be done. We’ll have gotten tons of crazy travel and adventures under our belt. I won’t feel like I’ve missed out on adventure. Not to say that kids aren’t an adventure. Oh my, they certainly are. Just not my type of adventure right now. It doesn’t help that my mom hasn’t spoken to me in weeks. I’m a little over it right now. I don’t have the energy to keep trying with people who, when I emailed them about Skyping told me they didn’t remember their Skype password. Hey Dad, you jailbroke your Iphone. I think you can figure out a mother (ha) f----ing Skype password. Or you know, create a new account? I’ll admit I haven’t tried extremely hard. And I don’t really care. At least not right now. Bad attitude, but I’m too excited about all the awesomeness on this island.

So, Happy Non-Mother’s Day to all of you out there. And Happy Mother’s Day to all those moms who work their asses off everyday. You’re strong women who do it all.