Boogs at 10 Months

Tallulah is definitely working her personality. Combine that with some teething and an extended cold that was an ear infection, and you've got a month of a lot of different aspects of Boogs.

At 10 months Tallulah likes:

Following anyone into the bathroom, but especially Mom

Wrestling on the bed with dad and brother

Walking around with the assistance of a little push walker

Dancing

Reading her own book

Whatever her brother is doing

Being outside

Doing the "pffft" thing with her tongue

Pulling pictures off the wall that mom taped up

She doesn't like:

Being left out

Not being able to reach

Being hungry

I'm blonde too! Let me play!

The rare binky shot. I think her record for keeping it in is 5 seconds.

Give me a break mom, I stand all the time.

Pfffffft

She's becoming a little more selective with these big smiles, but they still get me every time.

Zoo trip

I'm back. With a very old zoo trip. Exciting. Consider it easing back in.

I, or we forgot, a coat for Atticus this day, and it was rather chilly, so he spent time with my hat and then my coat.

Still Atticus's favorite part of the zoo.

A picture Atticus took on the way out

Living authentically

This post has been stewing in my head for several months, but it didn't have the spin I wanted so I neglected writing it out. I was afraid it would turn into a justification of "but hey my life is great! I love my life! What are you talking about?" and sound really defensive, and that's not what I meant by it. I wanted more to reach out to others, while celebrating the path we have chosen to live a more authentic life that suits our needs rather than conforming to what mainstream American culture would have us live like.

I've had several people tell me lately that I seem sad... that I don't seem to be "myself" and that my lifestyle now is just an "act" and not who I really am. Besides that latter statement being incredibly hurtful, I found it puzzling. Honestly, I feel more exhilarated and satisfied with life than I have ever in recent memory. I live in this fabulously tiny apartment with very few possessions, we are car-free and loving it, we eat wholesome foods that we cook ourselves. I have this two amazingly delightful children. My husband cuddles with me and watches Call the Midwife after our kids (sometimes) drift off to sleep peacefully. We live in a pretty awesome city with the coolest activities for kids, the most amazing bike paths and natural trails. I get PAID to go to school and learn about awesome things like feminist theory and global feminism. I really cannot imagine what there is to not love about this life.

Then I found the bridge, on a not-so-recent but recently discovered by me episode of the FMH podcast, about darkness and light, Lindsey says something that really struck me. She said her family and friends told her about how she seemed so "dark" after going through her faith transition and doubting the Church. There is this rhetoric in the LDS church that Mormons look somehow different, more wholesome and good and full of light. Then, when they fall away, they just seem dark and empty because the Spirit has left them. I like what was said in this podcast about everyone having this darkness, but those of us courageous enough to confront it tend to wear it on our sleeves. There are many who seem full of light and happiness, and drown the darkness that is inside in unhealthy ways (note the high rate of porn addiction, drug abuse, eating disorders, and plastic surgery in Utah). Lindsey says everyone told her she was just so negative during this time, but she was feeling happier and more satisfied with life than ever before, as she says: "this is me being authentic and it feels so much better." This is exactly how I feel with my life. It feels so, so much better.

Deborah the Prophetess

In the Book of Judges in the Old Testament, there is a story about Deborah.

It says:

"And Deborah, a prophetess, the wife of Lapidoth, she judged Israel at that time.... the children of Israel came to her for judgment. 

And she sent and called Barak the son of Abinoam out of Kedesh-naphtali, and said unto him, Hath not the Lord God of Israel commanded, saying, Go and draw toward mount Tabor, and take with thee ten thousand men of the children of Naphtali and of the children of Zebulun?

And Barak said unto her, If thou wilt go with me, then I will go: but if thou wilt not go with me, then I will not go." (Judges 4: 4-8).

HOWEVER, in the Sunday School manual for the LDS Church, she is simply called a "friend": never referred to as one of the judges (which she was for 40 years, and one of the only judges to remain righteous through the scriptures) or a prophetess (which is just... huge). They emphasize Barak's role, that he was commanded by God and Deborah was simply his "true friend" that encouraged him to fulfill God's plan for him. They allow the man to be the doer, and the woman to be the sidekick, when (although the scriptures are a tad vague) it would seem that Deborah perhaps received the revelation from God. Moreover, they completely fail to mention that she was prophetess, perhaps nervous about the implication that she might have been ordained to the priesthood to be in that position. In doing so, they diminish her status as a leader of Israel. I suspect there were many more women in positions of authority in ancient times, but their stories have been plotted out by misogynist scribes who were products of their own time as well.

Here is yet another small, but simple, fix that would improve gender equality. We could also sing about her in Primary.... (as an additional verse in Follow the Prophet). 

"Deborah the Prophetess judged her people well

As she served the Lord and lived in Israel.
She led them to battle with her friend Barak
They defeated Sisera who never more would mock."**

** I didn't make that up, lyrics from here. Also, how awesome is she? Feminist Primary lessons. I can't believe I have never read her blog before.

German New Year's Brunch

Living in Eagle Heights means most of your neighbors (and friends) aren't American. Across from our apartment is two guys from Pakistan, and we have a Chinese couple living below us. Our building and the ones sharing our playground have families from Taiwan, Japan, Spain, Bangladesh, India, South Korea... etc. We've made some really, really great friends and we have yet to talk about them on our blog! Mostly because taking pictures is kind of awkward in social situations, and I usually forget to take the camera. 

But, alas! We hung out at our friends, Nina and Juwe's apartment on New Year's Day for traditional German brunch -- actually not sure how traditional it is, but it was made by Germans, so there you go! Ida and Patrick (who lives in Sweden but are Finnish and German) joined us with their two sons. 

The food was delicious, and the company was splendid. The kids finally consistently play well together (Atticus and Felix had a rough time for  the first couple of times we hung out, mostly because Atticus is very sensitive and Felix did not know how to interact with him). But now they run away to the back bedroom and we hear nary a peep for the whole five hours we are together. It's so awesome. It also helps that the parents get along so well. I think Tim and I are meant to be Europeans.

The stroller got stuck halfway up our hill and we had to take the kids out and carry them the rest of the way. 

YUM.

Atticus and Felix.

Sweet boy Justus.

Tallulah, displaying her snotty nose + bonked forehead.

Atticus and Juna are only a few months apart in age, but she is at least a foot taller. Girl is tall!

I LOVE the path behind our apartment. It's not long, but it's the perfect little jaunt in the woods. 

She loooooves being outside in the snow.

Home again, home again.

Watch Arthur on pbskids.org

Late night little people play

Long and kind of boring, but funny.

Christmas with the Carings

We have a lovely and relaxing Christmas here in Madison. We tried to start some fun traditions, and succeeded at some while failing at others. I started to make an advent calendar, but only made it through December 15th with ideas, and then failed on like the third day and didn't do what was on the card. Oh well. 

We did make gingerbread cookies, went to some fantastic activities at the UU church including a fun service where the kids dressed up and acted out the nativity, sang in the choir at our ward Christmas program, ate traditional Finnish Christmas Eve dinner with our friends, visited Santa Claus at the mall, and decorated our tree with Christmas cards and homemade salt dough ornaments. The kids received a few gifts each from their grandparents and Aunt Devany, and it was plenty for them. Tim and I watched Christmas movies every night this week, from Love Actually to Mr. Krueger's Christmas. A winter storm blew in a few days before, and so it was a very white Christmas indeed. The nighttime walks through the snow were heavy with the smells and sights of the season. It was a beautiful few weeks.

All the presents were pretty much for him.

Atticus kept saying "this is the best Christmas EVER." Apparently his expectations were set very low.

I attempted to be crafty. They turned out OK, but never hardened and were really porous, and not worth mailing but they were intended for the grandparents and great-grandparents. Oh well, maybe next year!

Who needs expensive ornaments?

The stockings were hung on the... wall... with care.

Terrible Santa Claus, but it was SO nice that they didn't have a photographer and you could just take your own pictures (though we forgot our camera so we just have iPhone pics). Hilldale is the greatest mall ever -- very few chains, lots of local shops, super low-key and non-commercial.

Gingerbread houses at our awesome mall. 

It was a magical season.

How PANTS restored my faith in Mormanity

As most of you have guessed, Tim and I have been attending our local LDS congregation more and more over the past month or so. We've made some really wonderful friends, and felt incredibly welcomed there, and so were naturally balancing our LDS church-going with a Unitarian service on Saturday, because we also really like the spirit we feel there. I still felt (and probably will feel again after the high of last weekend wears off) really conflicted about my testimony, and the Church in general, specifically with modern-day issues of gender equality and gay rights, and with glossed over historical facts that leave my stomach in knots. Every Sunday, I wake up and wonder if it's worth it. Worth it to get dressed, get my kids out the door at 8:30, bike the 1.5 miles to Church in the cold, sit through three occasionally frustrating meetings. I've had many doubts about doctrine, to the point I've been on the brink of submitting a resignation letter several times. Add that to my exasperation over how our families are treating us in the wake of our doubts, and it's enough to send anyone heading for the hills.

Then, a few weeks ago, I was reading on Stephanie Lauritzen's blog after a reader Jamie linked to it in a comment here. I read about her desire to practice some civil disobedience, to end the silence that Mormon feminists often partake of in their ward families, for fear of ostracism. I too had that fear for a long, long time, until recently really coming out in strong support of certain issues. I remember being a child and then a teen and having so many questions on things I was reading and learning, but no one to broach the topic with. It wasn't until I found like-minded individuals at BYU, and subsequently in the bloggernacle through FMH, Mormon Stories, and others, that I realized I was not the only one with these questions, and they didn't make me a bad person, or even a bad Mormon for having them. I yearned for more connection with these like-minded individuals, and Stephanie proposed a solution that resonated deeply with me: for one Sunday, December 16th, we'd all wear pants to Church! We'd find each other, if we happened to be in the same ward. If we were alone, we would sit in our pants knowing that hundreds of our fellow feminists would be wearing them at the same time, all over the US. We thought it was brilliant, and more and more women (and men!) joined the crusade.

Then the ugliness began, and wow, was it ever ugly. Our fellow Saints chastised us, berated us, called us to repentance, threatened to take away our temple recommends, even posted death threats ("feminists should all be round up and shot..." etc.) It reminded me of the time I received some pretty ridiculous emails in response to a letter to the editor I wrote at BYU, and then later an op-ed I wrote with Tim. The letter was about my discomfort with the Church's stance against Prop 8, and I was told that my temple recommend should be revoked and I shouldn't be allowed to be a student at BYU. The op-ed I wrote was co-wrote with Tim in our first year of marriage about equality in marriage, to which one email response was: "obviously, you two aren't married..."

And I could not help but think the entire time about Heavenly Father and Mother, slamming their faces on their desks as their daughters were once again subject to such perverted forms of male domination and patriarchy, and all in Their name, to boot. As backlash to the hatred (hahaha), moderate Mormons joined the event, realizing the reasons why feminists feel so alienated, if this is the kind of reception they get on a local level. And when it came to Sunday the 16th, thousands upon thousands of women wore pants, and even more wore purple in solidarity. At our ward, my visiting teacher was in pants, our choir director was in pants, and one woman I had never talked to but apparently is a feminist was in pants as well. And there was lots of purple, perhaps in solidarity or unintentional. I did not receive any weird looks or even sideways glances. I felt everything I had imagined I wouldn't: an outpouring of the Spirit and feelings of love and connection with my fellow Saints.

Tim and I were singing in the choir as a favor to our friend Jenny (who was wearing leggings? coincidence maybe?), and I could barely keep it together during some of the songs. When the primary children came up and sang "Stars were Gleaming" in English and Spanish, I could sense something, some kind of hope for the future. I saw these children, white and Hispanic but with little sense of their different race or ethnicity of legal status, and I could picture a brighter future in our Church, with real change.

After Sacrament Meeting, our bishop called us in his office to talk to us, and pretty much said: "we're glad you're here, I know you have doubts, but let me know if you'd like to talk sometime" and even wanted to hear more about our experiences at the UU church. Never judging, never questioning our motives or our faith, just having an open and honest discussion. The cherry on top of our already delicious Sundae (hahaha) was my Relief Society teacher opening with "I don't agree with most of these quotes in this lesson... so let's work through it together." If only more teachers were brave enough to declare that outright.

My conclusions from pants Sunday: if your friends are liberal and questioning the Church, you probably won't bring them back with saying any of these things, but give them an opportunity for civil disobedience and they will gladly return.