Dear Mary Poppins, I Can Explain

Liv and I have been on one, long mommy-daughter date with Rob in Tampa this last week. Friday we literally went from school to a pizzeria to the mall and to IHOP. It was seriously a lot of fun. While walking through the mall, we stopped at Papyrus to purchase a very expensive holiday card.

I picked up a book from hilarious series entitled, "P*rn for women." I put the asterisk there just in case your offensive material filters try to block that word. Let me be perfectly clear: it's not as racy as it sounds. One of the pages features a man totally engaged while reading Pride and Prejudice. Another shows a man saying (while loading an antique chair into a car), "Antiquing makes me hot."

They are funny things. So I bought the book. And then I thought about it. The person for whom I was buying the book doesn't know me that well (Pat, if you're reading this it was not for Cara...maybe it was). Would she take offense? It's hilarious, to be sure, but maybe I didn't want to risk making the wrong impression. We're just starting to get to know one another.

I walked back to the store and told the clerk (a 30-something-laid-off-middle-management-now-working-retail-for-the-holidays-and-hating-life type of a man): "I changed my mind." He sighed and took the book from my hands. All the while, a perfectly polite and immaculately coiffed older woman was standing next to me, completing her transaction. She was just like Mary Poppins.

There was a screen right in between us, but facing her. When the clerk clicked on my book this is what appeared on the screen, in big, bold letters, "XXX PORN" Nothing like, "novelty book," not even, "humorous book." And while there were no Hustlers or Playboys in Papyrus, the woman's eyes grew big as she turned to me in horror. I did an awkward kind of smile and raised my shoulders in hopes of hiding my red face. I quickly filled out the section of the receipt that asks all of my personal information in case I'm a serial returner, and darted from the store.

So, Mary Poppins, it wasn't mine. It was a gift. For a friend. Yeah. And it wasn't porn. Not really. It just had Porn as the title. heh. heh. heh.

Are They Serious?

I got a kick out of this recent continuing legal education class description. It sounds -- entertaining. Wish I was in PA to go to it.

As the forces of evil marshal their ranks to destroy all that is good in the Kingdom of Prydain, author Lloyd Alexander calls upon an odd assortment of heroes to battle back the impending darkness. Join Professor Lee as he blends the adventures of real-life lawyers with Alexander’s journey through a magical land, inspired by Welsh mythology, to discover what a bard, a beast, and an assistant pig-keeper can offer real-life lawyers about the challenges, lessons, and rewards of their work.

Abstract Livism

Liv: Mom, I'm painting an abstract.
Me (wondering if she really knows what she's talking about): Liv, what did you paint?
Liv: Mom, that's why it's called abstract.

Blood Pressure

Watching the Phillies game. Cialis (like Viagra) commercial comes on. Liv turns to me and asks, "Mom, how's your blood pressure?"

Me: I don't think I have to worry about that.

I believe in open conversation, but I don't think I should have to explain ED to a kindergartner. Do they really have to have those commercials at 7 pm?

Sickies

We're a whole bunch of sickies around here.

On Wednesday night I was in a TON of pain. We read bedtime stories and I went to go rock on the floor. My legs were shaking out of control - like I was being electrocuted. It wasn't cycle time. I thought maybe it was my stomach. Pepto didn't touch the pain. Maybe an ovarian cyst? Who knows? But I couldn't shake the pain. Feeling slightly foolish - like if they tell me it's just gas pains I'm going to want to die - I decided reluctantly to go to the E.R.

We got Liv out of bed and took her to a friend's house. I got a blessing there from Rob and our friend, Adam. I still wasn't too worried, and I was walking just fine. I felt like a crazy person describing my pain. I couldn't pinpoint the source of the pain, I just knew it was my lower stomach. They thought perhaps I had kidney stones. Maybe I was pregnant (as if). So they ran all kinds of tests on me. Turns out - I had appendicitis. I wasn't crazy.

They took out my appendix at 4 am on Thursday morning. I don't remember knocking out (good thing), I do remember having an asthma attack coming out of the anesthesia (bad thing). It's not a good thing when you can see all of the O.R. staff "working on you," including the anesthesiologist. They were panicked. I couldn't breath. I panicked. They told me it was an anxiety asthma attack. I guess I made it out okay. I blacked out after the asthma attack, then woke to find Rob by my side. I was offended that they thought my anxiety had caused asthma, but it's a medical term, I suppose. My BODY was under anxiety and reacted poorly to the meds. Now that I understand, I'm not as offended. ;)

I spent the day on some serious drugs in a post-op sick ward. It was crazy. I could hear everything - hacking, gagging, chucking. I waited all day to eat real food (I was hungry). Their gluten free food was worse than dog food. They didn't have a phone or a tv for me, so I was really bored. But I had my phone! I made a whole bunch of phone calls I don't remember.
I tried to read, but the words were blurry. What's a girl to do? So I got outta there as soon as possible. I've been healing since. Rob's been taking care of me pretty well. I've tried to vacuum (I suppose that's a no-no) and play the piano (can't read blurry notes). Can't really do either. He has to yell at me. Mom and Laura have been yelling at me to relax from afar. I feel loved. Liv is fascinated with my wounds and happy to have an excuse to buy flowers and a CareBear card.

Then on Sunday night, Olivia started puking and pooping. It was awesome. Rob was unusually cranky when he woke up, so I ended up taking care of the puker. I'm hoping I don't start hurling myself. I might break some stitches. So she's been sucking on copious amounts of Gatorade. I've been hiding from her. Once when she was just about to chuck (as in pinching her cheeks closed), Rob yelled, "get your bowl!" but the bowl was right next to me. Scared that she'd puke on me, I threw the metal bowl at her. She was cool, picked it up and chucked in it. Mother of the year.

Livisms

Liv: Mom, I saw the most handsome boy at McDonald's. I'm going to marry him.
Me: What is his name?
Liv: I don't know. When we get married does he have to know my name?

Liv: Mom, what are calories?
Me: They're the energy stored in food.
Liv: Like in apples? Apples give us energy?
Me: Yep.
Liv: And noodles?
Me: Yeah.
Liv: I have a strawberry shortcake doll. SNIFFFFFFF. I can SMELL the calories.

Liv: Is Priesthood meeting just for boys?
Me: Yes. Do you have the Priesthood?
Liv: No.
Me (just for kicks): Why do boys have the Priesthood and not girls?
Liv: Because they have to teach the girls...
Me: I can see we have a lot to learn. *smile*

Flip Flop

Ugh. Disregard parts of that last post. Listened to some really cheesy Christian Rock today. Stuff that made me want to gouge my eyes out. I guess I should qualify my previous statement, "I really enjoy SOME Christian Rock Songs." Not all. Heaven knows, not all.

Confessions

1. I recently started listening to K-Love. Yep. That's right. I now listen to Christian rock. cringe. I'm so embarrassed. I hated Christian rock for so many years. I'd turn the channel immediately. The reasons for my initial dislike are 2-fold: I thought it irreverent to be rocking out to Jesus' name and I (more than once) had a born-again Christian friend reprimand me for even thinking I was remotely Christian.

Why has my tune changed? Well, I think it was when I was rocking out in my car and started listening closely to my music. Olivia would say, "Mom, they said the word Jesus in the song." She was right. Unfortunately, it was being used in vain. It was then I decided that it would be better for her to hear songs that refer to Jesus in a positive way.

The other thing is this: I like the uplifting messages and catchy rock music. I think it's a good alternative to what I had been listening to. Ugh. Can I tell you that I can't stand Katie Perry?

Lastly, I'm Christian. Argue semantics all of you want, I believe I am Christian, that Jesus is my Savior, and through Him and His plan we can all be saved. I believe Joseph Smith was a prophet, but I don't worship him. I know that President Thomas Monson is a prophet - and I'm amazed at how God can talk through a man in such a way that it uplifts my soul every time I hear his words. I believe in the authority of the Holy Priesthood that rests upon the Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints distinguishing it from many other good churches of the world. I absolutely know the Book of Mormon is true. Reading it along with the Bible, my spiritual horizons have expanded. I feel love. I feel truth. Jesus is the Lord of the Bible and the Book of Mormon, and in order to really know it, you'd have to read it too and learn for yourself. Oh, man, I love that book.

Sooo - in a nutshell - I'm going to listen to Christian music. I am Christian. I'm going to forget the judgments of other well-meaning Christian folk who would consider my faith a cult or heresy. Because I've read the Book of Mormon. I know of its truth by reading it. By learning from its pages. I'm going to assume that many nay-sayers haven't read it with a pure heart and true intent, but instead rely on what someone else has said. What someone else has studied. I read the Bible and I know it to be true from experience. The same is true of the Book of Mormon. And from my new experience, I find Christian rock uplifting. Bring on the teasing. I like it. (Oh, and I also have to forget that most of the Christian rock artists and Radio DJs are also swinging far-right politically. Yeah. I don't want to go there).

2. I fell deeply in love with Trader Joe's dark chocolate caramel wedges. They're a mere $4 a tin, but I can eat them in a few sittings. The store is running low on the supply. I keep reminding the cashiers they need to restock. Let's see if they listen to me.

That's all for tonight. Sincerely, the crazy Mormon lady who listens to Christian rock, popping Trader Joe's crazy expensive chocolate wedges whilst trying to forget that most Christians think she's a heretic. But then again, so do many Mormons. You can't be a good Mormon and vote for Democrats....can you? Maybe I'll save that for another day's confession.

Photos

Random

Whoa, it's been awhile, eh? What's going on in the life of the Berrys? Well, a lot, actually.

1. We've decided to look into adoption through LDS social services. I don't know how this is going to go. Please keep us in your prayers. There are a few concerns I have: 1) my nurse practitioner OBGYN seems hesitant to sign off on my infertility. It's only been 3 years of no pregnancy, but she wants me to undergo fertility treatments - treatments I don't want to do. I've always wanted to adopt. I don't feel the absolute need to have another biological child. But she didn't have a good adoption experience (or so she informed me). 2). Adoption, no matter the route, is an expensive endeavor. My firm is up and running with some good income. We're doing everything we can to set aside the necessary funds. It's not easy. We're praying for financial miracles here.

2. I sold my bassoon. (financial miracle, I say yes). At first I was devastated by the thought of selling my bassoon. But when I thought about it: I loved the idea of playing it more than I actually played it. I practiced it diligently for 4 years in HS and took lessons for 2 years in college, from a teacher I really liked. But there came a time when I had to make some decisions. Difficult decisions about how and where I was going to spend my time. It was not with the bassoon. And there it was, sitting there, worth more than a car. It was time to sell it and move on. Check.

3. Olivia started kindergarten. I have pictures around here somewhere. She seems to be right in the middle of the pack academically. I'm okay with that. I fear that her being too old would bore her and watching her struggle to keep pace would be frustrating. Middle is perfect for her right now. We'll continue to monitor her and make decisions as they come. Physically, she's the shrimp of the class.

4. We've decided to try and make a go here in California - permanently. I hesitate in writing this, because I said that about NJ about 2 years ago. But there it is. Perhaps it has to do with the adoption. Perhaps it's just where we need to be. We love the area. We love the people. We're surviving financially. Sure, we could own a mansion in Texas with and here we're in a crappy little apartment, but for now -- it's where we need to be. This was and is a hard decision to make, mostly because of the difficult cost of living issue. We have friends we'd love to live near. I would love to own a nice house. Those plans are on hold.

So there it is: I've been busy. Busy with work. Busy pondering our future and figuring out where we want to be and how we want to grow our little family. Busy watching over Liv. Busy praying and pleading with the Lord that we'll make the right decisions, see miracles and be in the right place, at the right time doing the right things.

Walk Tall, You're A Daughter of God

There are ups and downs in everyone's life. This week I had many more "ups" than "downs." It was needed, and I feel spiritually recharged. I feel motivated to read my scriptures. I feel enthusiastic about my mission in life. I'm determined to be a good wife, mother and attorney.

We raced through Nevada on Saturday to make Stake Conference on time. While the adult session was good, I particularly enjoyed the general session where the Young Women sang the familiar song, "Walk Tall, You're a Daughter of God." In the same session one speaker mentioned how his daughter had a congenital heart defect that caused a brush with death. She dropped to the floor quite quickly. She received a priesthood blessing on the spot (from a member vice principal), and lives on today.

She's very lucky. It was nearly 13 years ago when a good friend of mine, April Thomas, died from the same congenital heart defect.

We had just returned from a Youth Conference trip to Kirtland, Ohio. April and I wandered into the orchard and read the dedicatory prayer to the Kirtland temple. It was sacred and special. That fall she went off to college. It was only a few days into the school year when we were pulled together after seminary and told that she had died suddenly (she dropped to the ground after a round of B-ball. She always was a rather violent B-ball player -- fun times -- but it wasn't the b-ball that killed her. It was her defective heart). I remember singing this song at her funeral, feeling so close to my friends, to April and to God. It was an awakening, of sorts, to my own mortality, and the first of many conversion moments.

Walk Tall, You're A Daughter of God
By: Jamie Glenn
Right now I have a prayer deep within my heart,
A prayer for each of you there is a special part.
That you remember who you are and him who lives above.
Please seek for him and live his way; You'll feel his love.

(chorus) Walk tall, you're a daughter, a child of God.
Be strong and remember who you are.
Try to understand, you're part of his great plan.
He's closer than you know, Reach up; he'll take your hand.

Long before the time you can remember, Our Father held you in his arms so tender.
Those loving arms released you as he sent you down to earth.
He said, "My child, I love you. Don't forget your great worth."

(chorus) Walk tall, you're a daughter, a child of God.
Be strong and remember who you are.
Try to understand, you're part of his great plan.
He's closer than you know, Reach up; he'll take your hand.

So, hmm. O.k.

So apparently my immigration correspondence made a link on Times and Seasons. I was wondering why I started seeing comments from complete strangers. Not that I mind. Not in the least. But the whole thing makes me a little self-conscious, to be truthful. I thought about going back and sanitizing my rant. Taking out the word idiot. But that would take away from the authenticity, don't you think? So I'll leave it. I wrote it knowing it was open to public. My .15 seconds of slight LDS fame will be quickly over, regardless.

So while clicking around I found this WONDERFUL editorial from the Deseret News exploring the complexities of the immigration issue.

Also, check out this link Ben Reed sent me from the LA Times. Theirs is a touching story and, unfortunately, more common than you'd think.

Growing Up is Hard for Mom

School starts in 12 days and can we get something out on the table: I'm thrilled. Being an only child has to be so boring. Lola does her worksheets, watches programs on PBS, plays on PBS.org, watches movies about the human body (her current obsession), throws barbies, swims in the pool -- all by her self. She asks me every night when she goes to bed, "what are we doing tomorrow?" and no matter what I plan for the next day, it is never (and will never) be enough. I know. I was (and some stay I am) just like that - thus my dad's phrase, "Life is not a carnival." I did, however, have 4 siblings with whom to fight, I mean play.

Kindergarten? Well, that should rock. We've discussed that she's academically there. Not worried about that. Socially? She's slightly awkward/bossy/cliquish. Being around other kids will be good for her. I'm excited for her to break free of this boring, very adult household for 4 hours a day.

Getting dressed for kindergarten, well, that's the problem here. I suppose I envisioned her wearing something along the lines of Gymboree or Janie & Jack. The truth is, however, that we cannot afford to buy Gymboree, let alone Janie & Jack. That leaves me with Children's Place, Penney's, Target. "Not so bad," I think to myself. And then we go school clothes shopping.

The stores in our budget range also happen to have a rocker, 1980s theme going on, and I'm not too happy. Preppy 1980s I can deal with - albeit without the tight white jeans. But black lace tights and t-shirt dresses with elastic belts? I'm horrified. Lola is in love.

Confused, I ask, "what do you like?" she responds, "I want to look fashionable. Like a rock star." Crushed are my dreams of pleated skirts and knee-high socks. My girl wants to look like Hannah Montana (whom she says is a great rock star, but hasn't seen very often given the lack of cable in our household).

So, we compromise.

We get the plaid, pleated skirt. And the matching "Girls Rock," hoodie jacket complete with metal studs. I did get the knee-highs. We buy plain jeans with a little leopard-print pink shirt (oy). She expresses her individuality, I bring it all together into an outfit that doesn't make me cringe.

I have a feeling it's not going to get any better.

When Common Sense Prevails

Tina Writes:

I would like to ask for your forgiveness for my outburst. I am outraged at what is happening to America and I overreacted. Please forgive me and I apologize for my behavior.

It's Gonna Snow

2 blog posts in one day? Seriously. That's crazy business. Speaking of business, mine is going well. I love what I do. Love my clients. Don't love the stress, but I manage. Another thing I don't love: being stood-up, attorney style. That's right - no call, no show clients. Is it me? Is it them? I didn't want that case anyway! Ugh!

It's a good thing I don't drink, because I might totally pull a Liz Lemon drunk dial. See this: too funny.

I'm Destroying America, Apparently.

So I put an e-mail out there to the informal Relief Society listserv asking for a Spanish translator. I figured it would be perfect for an LDS returned missionary mom. I offered pay. Said I had a few documents for victims of violent crimes. I received several good offers, and I will be employing a number of women in my ward to translate for me.

I thought the idea was great: I get docs translated, women in my ward get a little extra pocket money translating documents. They don't even have leave the comfort of their pajamas. Keep in mind, I said nothing about the legal status of my clients, nor did I advocate immigration reform. I just put a job out there. Period.

Well, I wasn't ready for this. Let's call this woman....Tina. Totally fictionalized name.

Tina:

Hopefully your getting them ready for deportation instead of getting them ready to spend our taxpayer money.

My initial reaction: shock and hurt. I know what she's implying, but it's untrue. I have wonderful clients who were grossly abused and qualify for visas because they were truly helpful to the police. Not trying to start a fight on immigration, but feeling that I can't stand idly by and take her nastiness, I reply:

Please don't contact me unless you have something constructive to say. If you have issue with immigration laws, I suggest you speak with your congress person. Your judgment of me and my clients (who are hard working victims of violent crimes) is hurtful and untrue. I would never do that to you.

Are you ready? Here comes the real nastiness (mind you, this is a fellow ward member).

Tina:

It's people like you destroying what's left of America...if you don't want to be criticized quit displaying your unethical and morally wrong profession in an email to everyone...I don't support and will everything I can to rid this great nation of those type of people...and those supposed ill trained lawyers who help them.. Why aren't you helping Americans that have been victims of violent crimes from illegals?? You'd find many more ambulances to chase.

Don't bother answering back...

Now I'm starting to get really ticked. All I asked for was a translator! I wasn't calling the ward sisters to picket San Francisco for immigration reform. But to call me unethical? Call me an ambulance chaser? Call me ill-trained? What? Tell me I'm destroying America? I'm tempted to puck this girl in the face. Ok, now I'm thinking more charitable thoughts. How do I respond politely? I can't just let this go, can I?

I'm the wrong woman to slander if you didn't want a response back. Personally, your view of immigration is immaterial; your treatment of a sister in the gospel is reprehensible.

I wish you the best in life, even if you wish I died underneath one of those ambulances I chase.

Love, Sarah

And the third dose of nasty:

I found your initial email reprehensible...Why do I have to have emails sent to me from someone in the church that is actually helping illegals take bread out of the mouths of real Americans, or living on welfare supplied by Americans for nothing in return?? Why do you feel justified as a "sister" to have sent to my email something I'm on the other side fighting to stop. Next time...make sure your emails are STRICTLY church oriented and don't have any political implications...not everyone in the church is as bleeding liberal as you.

Let me reiterate. I merely asked the sisters in the ward for translators. THAT'S IT! I don't think that's a big deal. Not only that, but my money will undoubtedly put food in REAL AMERICANS' mouths - Real American LDS families. I advertised it to the ward intentionally. I'm sharing the wealth with friends who might need a little extra cash.

Since when does this make me un-American? Also, I wonder if the people who advertise their strollers for sale get nasty-grams from her. WHAT DO STROLLERS have to do with church e-mail? Why don't you let the leaders tell me this is inappropriate? Who are you, the Relief Society e-mail nazi? Seriously. And what is she fighting, exactly? Is she trying to get every Hispanic deported? They call that straight-up racism where I come from. Exhausted from arguing with an idiot, I declare myself done.

I tell her, "God Bless," and she replies likewise.

You would think I'd be tough enough to take it, but I was shaken. I know there are people who disagree with immigration policies. Frankly, who doesn't disagree with them in one way or another? But to call me unethical. To treat me like a lying, scumbag traitor is going too far. I especially didn't expect this from a "sister." And despite it all, I forgive her. I have to. I couldn't fathom being that angry at life. I feel sorry for her. It must be exhausting trying to chase every Hispanic from America for the sake of "real Americans."

Update: I can tell I wrote this in a fury. Sorry for all of the initial misspellings.
Update 2: I got an apology!

I wanna be like her

Random Recommendations

1. The movie Arranged. See it. It's about the unlikely friendship between a Muslim girl and an Orthodox Jewish girl in Brooklyn, NY. The story details their experiences living the principles of devout religion in a thoroughly modern world. AND...their stories of arranged marriages. Very good.

2. E-Sushi. This is for my local friends who love sushi. The Itamae (sushi chef) is amazing. And he does his hair like Elvis, which is completely appropriate. Elvis music plays constantly in the background, and I think there is even a clock with swinging hips. Most importantly, the sushi is so fresh, that it melts in my mouth every time. The rolls are very creative, and eating them is almost sad. They are that beautiful.

3. Now that lala is gone (sniff, sniff), I've started alternating Pandora and Grooveshark (for those songs that I play on instant replay). Both are great radio alternatives.

4. Finally, let me recommend a picnic in Alamo Square Park in San Francisco (and no, I did not swipe this picture this from the internet. My friend Janine took it with a point-n-shoot). For our picnic we had bread, varieties of hummus, fruit, sparkling juice and good conversation. We played the Full House opening credits on the ipod and then found DJ Tanner's "real house," a few blocks away.

Use the facilities before leaving home, though. I do not recommend having to find an open bathroom, trying the gas station right down the hill and having to plunge the toilet so you can use it, while the attendant insists that you can pee on the drain. TMI? Sorry. Funny though, huh?

Good Morning.

New blog and then silence....
Give a girl a break. I was on vacation! Nice to see you all again. It's hard traveling to places you love. The nostalgia creeps in and creates doubt. Maybe we should move back! Or at least it does for me. Driving around Pittsburgh, in particular, had me weepy. But things are different. Most of my best friends are gone (like 10 of them or something crazy like that). The city is so loving. So sparkly at night. So charming. So alluring for someone who loves old architecture, ethnic food, a decent cost of living and football. I chatted with my cab driver all the way to the airport about it. He loves Pittsburgh, too.

While in Pittsburgh I was a good mother. I took Lola to 3 things I have little to no interest in: the zoo, the science museum, and the museum of natural history. She loved all three. I enjoyed the science museum more than I thought. The zoo was made especially nice with the company of my bff Adrienne. Still don't like the natural history museum. She, who loves dinosaurs, is still to young to appreciate it. I guess my murdering the names of each one didn't help. "Hey Lola, LOOK! There's a Eu-o. I mean a Eu-o-plocokee-fay-lus. Yeah." Cue eye roll. (Euoplocephalus).

New Beginnings.

I don't know what else to say but, "welcome." I'm fading my other blog into obscurity with hopes of someday printing my 4 years of randomness recorded and shared.
If you're new to my blogging habits, let me introduce you:

1. I'm random.
2. I'm opinionated.
3. I change my mind. All. Of. The. Time.
4. I need good laughs to get through my days.
5. I'm a Jersey girl transplanted to Northern California.
6. I'm a mom to a little girl, let's call her Lola.
7. I'm married to a super smart guy, I'll call him Albert. He's not going to like this (because he's much too modest). But this is my blog, so heh.
8. I'm a member of the Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints.
9. I'm an immigration lawyer.

The end. For now.