"That's Your Job"

I blame Father of the Bride.

That is as far back as I can pinpoint it to. 1991's Father of the Bride with Steve Martin, Diane Keaton, Martin Short, and Kimberly Williams-Paisley. That particular point in the movie where Annie is about to cancel the wedding and everything because her fiance Bryan got her a blender for a gift instead of something artsy. She didn't want to be seen as a 1950's housewife who did nothing but cook and clean. She was an architect, an artist, a basketball player, a builder, and someone who didn't want to be known solely as "the wife," "the woman," or "the old lady of the house." Annie got upset enough that she was willing to not marry him--part of it was probably do to the stress of doing a super expensive wedding, but that fear and frustration didn't come from nothing. As a character or person, it would have been something she was very much opposed to and scared of as she grew up.

A line like that doesn't come out of nowhere.

And it struck me.

I subconsciously agreed with her although I didn't know what that meant. Annie is amazing. She is an energetic woman, who wasn't afraid to go abroad, who loved her family, loved sports, found a career that she enjoyed where she had the opportunity to create something artistically. These were all things that I eventually aspired to do.

While Annie Banks MacKenzie isn't the only woman to do those things nor my only influence in trying to be strong, my mother loved the movie. As most every little girl, what my mom loved I loved.

For my job, I work at a library, as occasion will promit. I enjoy being surrounded by stories all the time. The people I work with are amazing and sweet and the patrons are over all pleasant. Being a clerk at the library is my job. I get paid to do it and once the hours are done I get to go home and be me. I get to be "Caitlyn" with a side of "Mom" and "Wife" and an ugly veggie called "housekeeper."

With the influence of Annie Banks MacKenzie and the fact that I'm not OCD like people around me, I had no interest in being simply a housewife who cooks and cleans all day every day with vacuum lines on her carpets and mops drying every single day. I hate cleaning, though I like things tidy and being able to walk on the carpet without stepping on a million crumbs of Cheerio's. I dislike cooking. I only do really cook because my husband does work more than me and supposedly people need to eat to survive, or something like that. I do it because it needs to be done and there is not many options for others to do it. It is the obligation, the moral duty, to make sure everyone has something in their belly, I suppose. Again, I don't like cooking. If I can find a way around it with frozen pizza's or very simple "three step recipes" I jump on that band wagon so fast. Are my family foods the healthiest, not at all, but they are fed and they get a side of fruits/veggies enough.

But then things happen.

This year has been the definition of crazy! And it's only April.

I'm only 26... 27... (right?) and my husband's 13 year old nephew came to live with us. (He is twice the age of my own son, whom I know how to deal with.) New chance for a new life. Help my sister in law get back on her feet. Hopefully everyone can take good steps forward. It's good. (Right?) It's what we're supposed to do. (Right?) I can get through this (RIGHT?!)

*sigh*

I have never been more exhausted.

When people ask, "how are you doing?" I can only honestly answer, "I'm okay." The word "Fine" is a four letter 9-1-1 call to me, and "okay" is a few steps above that. For a time I was able to say, "I'm doing better" which was the honest truth. I was doing better than before, though "good" or "great" hasn't been in my honest vocabulary since before Christmas.

I've found white hairs--though only one or two. I've gone to dark chocolate for comfort. I've cried in the shower--and what a weird feeling it is to have the tears run down your face so quickly that they're suddenly gone. I've also had to seriously restrain myself from slapping him across the face do to the sheer amount of disrespect I've thrown in my face. I've even yelled--for those who know me, know I'm a quiet person and it ends up taking a lot for me to become violent or yell. Broken hearts, I got that--though I did really want to take a baseball bat to my best friend's ex-boyfriend when they broke up, but I didn't so I controlled myself. Screaming 6 year olds, handled. Financial stress, we've paid my tithing so we'll be okay. Job loss, annoying but manageable for the most part. But the disrespect and being sworn at to my face because you know I don't like it, tips my scales. I yelled and shaking with adrenaline coursing through me wanted to backhand the kid.

The situation was dealt with for the most part and I cried. I ate chocolate with a side of eggs and toast and I cried. The only was I was able to keep composed enough until my husband got home was by talking with my friend who lives with us.

I don't like being violent. To protect myself in elementary school from the boys, I bullied them until I realized what I was doing then did a 180 to where I'm more passive and let things slide more than I probably should.

 I hate crying. I won't watch some movies or read some books because "I don't cry pretty" and it is exhausting.

Those are the big things, but then there are moments where the disrespect is subtle. Eye rolls. Word jabs. "Whatever." Blatant disregard for the rules. The list goes on.

The one that has irritated me the most, though it was such a "little thing" and the situation didn't escalate to a huge blow up, was on a Sunday. Sunday's are bad anyway because it's church, ties, white shirts, slacks, no phones in the chapel, no hats in the chapel, people who are staring and judging (though they only look at him because he sticks out like a sore thumb by wearing all black, hoodies, and steps out into the lobby for most of the talks given), and the number of people in general. I get comfort zones. I get anxieties (believe me the white hears I have isn't from walking through a field of tulips). I get not like talking to people and that feeling judged is a thing (I feel it too dude). But, to sound a little southern here, "He needs Jesus."

Anyway, this particular Sunday we got back from church and I made food for my son--it was Fast Sunday, so I didn't eat. My nephew asked if I could make him a sandwich too because I was making one for my son. Sure, it's just another slice of bread and the knives are already dirty. He later comes in, after finishing his sandwich and gets a bowl of cereal. Okay, it's 4:00--an hour and a half after he ate last--sure, I guess. I end up getting other foodstuff for my son who can't prepare it himself. 5:00 when I start making my own food to break my fast. The conversation went something like this:

Nephew: "Caitlyn, would you make me a grilled peanut butter and jelly sandwich?"

Me = exhausted (Sunday's just make me tired, but then dealing with kids all day already is more exhausting) and slightly hangry. Making anything is more than I want to do. "No, I'm not doing grilled anything. It's too much work right now."

N: "Come on. It's just a sandwich."

Me: "Then you make it because all I've done is made food today. I'm done. If you want it, you make it."

N: "But it's your job." He starts walking away, looking at his phone as if I'm going to do it anyway.

Me with a raised finger and my voice got deep: "It is not my job. You have your own hands, do it yourself."

N: *nothing because he's not listening at all and is now in the other room*

My friend, who lives with us, and I stare at each other. Did he really just say that?

The conversation died as they do in real life. This part isn't part of a book where the dialogs go on forever and things get resolved within 300 pages equating three days. I had no words to come back and stand my ground with. Vocal words often don't work for me--it's why I write, to get my words out in the way I need them to without the interruptions that conversation gives.

But no, that is not my job. Being a cook and clean is not just the "woman's place." Losing myself to the 1950's title of "wife and mother" with its complimentary pearl necklace was never something I wanted, first given predominantly by Annie Banks MacKenzie. I want and am my own person who's job is to work at a library and help patrons get their books. I don't get paid for cooking and cleaning, for making sure all of the stupid math homework and literature assignments that didn't get done in class are done. I don't have to do all those things. I could stop and see how well my household, mainly my nephew, floats on their own. It is not my job where I will get fired if something fails. If it was a thing to get fired when I failed at "wifery" I'm sure my cooking skills, banking skills, and not-wanting-to-talk-to-people skills would have gotten me fired a long time ago. It's not going to happen.

***

To my nephew: it is not my job to remind you to eat lunch, so then you won't be "starving" by the time 5:00 hits and there is still another hour til dinner. It is not my job to put your clothes away. It isn't my job to remind you to make your bed. It isn't my job write 15 emails a week to your teachers asking what homework is today because you "forgot" to write it down for the third month in a row or because you were goofing off in class and didn't do the assignment or didn't turn it in.

My back hurts from bending over backward for things that you should be able to do on your own. You want to not be treated like a six year old, than act like you should. You don't want to lose your phone again because of bad grades, then turn in your completed assignments. You want me to stop hovering over you telling you that you have four other assignments that were do last week that you didn't do because you were talking, you want me to stop making you do more homework on stuff you've already completed, then do your work at school like your teachers are asking you to.

Call me harsh, but the world is not an easy place. If you acted this way in a job in forgetting paperwork constantly or disregarding the rules, you would be fired so fast.

I don't deserve to be disrespected, mistreated, sworn at, and emotionally abused while I'm still bending myself in knots trying to help you stay a float and not drown. No one deserves that kind of treatment. And if you don't stand on your own two feet in this four foot deep pool, I'm not going to take another knock to the head because you're thrashing and drowning us both. My husband and I will wait until you've practically drowned yourself in water that you could stand in before we step in and if need do CPR if need be. But, dude, I'm not taking elbow to the face anymore. All you have to do is to listen to us while we're telling you to stand up.

***

In reality, I highly doubt he'd read this. I doubt many people will ever read this because my following is so few, which is actually okay. I've written this down in my journal, but somehow it feels like the possibility of more people reading it gives it more strength, relieves me a little of all the frustration and tension, and in the end will give me more words to say when the stress inducing conversations happen.

Please, dear few readers, try to not see me as an abuser in that we'd let him "drowned." Repeating the 7th grade or losing his phone or XBox for the summer or whatever other natural consequences happen because of his actions are more natural than harsh. He's been told and has been given a plethora of opportunities to excel with many people bending over backwards for him--his math teacher took time out of her Spring Break to meet us at the library to help him with a test he bombed. She didn't have to, but she was willing to in order to help him succeed. She is an amazing teacher. Most, if not all, of his teachers are. He's been given chance after chance after chance only he refuses to open his ears and take off his rose colored lenses and realize just how much leniency we've all given him.

***

It's exhausting and so often anxiety filled, but one or two good things have happened because of all this.

My husband and I have drawn closer and closer together and my testimony of prayer has abounded. Johnathan has been there for me and has come to my defence so often when my nephew is being verbally hostile. When I'm crying I've been comforted by him so much as well as the Spirit. God and my husband have been my constant companions. Without them I wouldn't be able to get through this at all. I'd be broken on the floor, curled in a ball, and unable to do anything.

I'm so grateful for my husband and for God and for my son who, when he sees me upset, runs up and gives me hugs and kisses and is so willing to cuddle. All of them. I'm grateful for all of them.

But, man, this year has sucked and so often I just want to sleep.

Perfection: The Murderer

Perfection is a murderer.

I saw a Christmas Card from a friend which says: "All we want for Christmas is you to think we're perfect." Why the heck would you want that? Why would you even say that? Isn't there enough keeping up with the Jones' going around anyway and all it leads to, really, is exhaustion and bruises on your self image. This really bothered me, and bothers me still. On a Christmas card? Really?

The idea of being "perfect" kills people.

There is only one person who has or will be perfect and we are not Him. We can be "perfect" in Him and it is the only way we can return back to God, but Christ's "perfect" is different than what the world sees as "perfect."

The world's perfect is false. There is no true foundation for it. What does that even mean? "Perfect."  Depending on who you talk to there will always be someone else's ideas on perfect. Are you the perfect 1950's housewife? Are you the perfect Muslim woman, Mormon woman, perfect student, perfect house keeper, cook, baby sitter, the perfect working mom...? Are you the highest person in the company? Are you making gazillions of dollars because you are the man no company can live without? Do you have a beard? Are you clean shaven? Are you feeling enough? Are you tough enough? What the heck!?

I was actually just watching "Mona Lisa Smile" and they actually exploring the 1950's housewife and stigmas of girls while they were actually going through college. They were being taught poise, how to sit and stand, and home ec classes so instead of going off to be a lawyer instantly getting married and having babies.

(Disclaimer: I believe families are the most important thing there is. I would love to have a large family with many kids and I enjoy being a stay-at-home mom. I went to school and graduated college and use my degree in a non-work environment and I enjoy it. I love my son, I love my husband, I love being able to be myself and being okay with that.)

 Am I a 1950's house wife, not in the least. Seeing that experience from a friend who is a generation older than I am and was abusively raised to be the type of wife where every single spot in your house must be polished, dishes in the sink don't exist, dinner on exactly when then husband gets home,  where you iron your husband's shirt--because apparently he can't do it himself--, etc. And seeing how she has no life after her kids left because she was so enthralled in her children's life that she couldn't find time to be/find out who she was on her own. It is heartbreaking. That ideal, that image that women especially are always put up against, weather intentional or not.

Men are as well. All men, it seems, are supposed to be in a white-collar job, "bringing home the bacon." Where it is unsightly to have a janitorial job or work with your hands. You aren't as awesome as those in business suits. (Completely false statement!!) Men are still pressured to be successful and make a billion dollars a year otherwise they are seen as worthless. They aren't "perfect."

Ugh, I hate it.

I don't want to be seen as "perfect". It is overrated.

Sure it's good if dinner turns out well and to have a tidy enough house at the end of the day. My house is lived in, not some museum. My house is warm with love, most of the time. Are there ants currently on my floor because I can't freaking get them to go away? Yes. Is my apartment small? Yes. Are there times when there is only $5 in the bank for nearly a week until payday? Yes. Are there times when we only survive because of tithing? Absolutely! It is the only way we've survived for most of my life. 

God has taken care of us because we try our best. To be honest we could be better. But we are working on it. Striving to be better than we are now is not the same as striving to be perfect. God knows our potential. He knows what we can do when we are at our best, but he also knows what we can do now and will work with us. He will work through us.

I want you all, the whole world to know, you are loved. I don't know you, but I love you. I want you to do better than you were yesterday. Not perfect. Better, until you can reach your best. Don't let the idea of "perfection" murder your self-esteem, because you are beautiful. Keep working. Be diligent. Everyone can work to be better. You can be better.

The Power of Introverts

I love Susan Cain's voice. Her TedTalk is one that I listen to often, one: because I would consider myself an introvert, and two: because of her voice. Her way of putting things that I hadn't thought of in realistic and very understanding ways.

Since I started college, I've tried to be more outgoing. In this I've succeeded. I've gained a few good friends by trying to introduce myself at the beginning of classes and it helps a lot now that I'm in my upper division classes and many of my peers are in the same classes I am. But there are many times when I want nothing more that to sit down in a comfy chair with a cup of cocoa and read about far off places. I want to go on an adventure all by myself and maybe at some point talk to a friend (or write on my blog to you unknown people who I appreciate) about the characters and world.

There are so many outgoing people who I know and love very deeply. They do things in ways that I wouldn't have thought of or wouldn't have the guts to do. Speaking in public is causes me the worst butterflies especially on subjects that I have little to no knowledge about. I know many extroverts who can work through things very quickly on subjects they know little about and they can work sound like they know everything. I like to have time to process my thoughts and explore them on my own before I let anyone else have a jab at them.

I hold my thoughts as dear and precious things. Not all of them need to be shared with everyone.

Although, there are sometimes when the extroverts or the louder people step over my words. My own ideas get looked over because my voice isn't as loud as others. There are many times when I have to be flamboyant and almost abrasive to let my voice be heard. Those who are near and dear to me know how much I dislike having my words being stomped on and they are kind in trying to quiet their voices a little or ask me questions so then I can speak.

It was worse when I was younger because I didn't know that it was okay to speak up. I would raise my hand, like I would do in a classroom if I ever spoke up, amongst my own group of friends for them to realize I had something to say.  Sadly, though, there are others who haven't gotten the memo and still step all over me. Whether or not it is getting better is hard to tell.

Susan Cain refers to the idea that I know I had and have that being an introvert is a bad thing. This is false. The wonderful thing about her TedTalk is that she says it is"to sound grandiose, the world's loss" because we need introverts to "do what they do best." We need them to be thoughtful and creative and that little bit of hesitancy so then we don't rush into things without thinking them through thoroughly.

She delves into the differences between introverts and extroverts and how they are stimulated by different things. This is perfectly okay. Find out where you are stimulated the most. Is it in a library where it is quiet and not many people in your ears? Is it in the kitchen with bustling kids? Is it out on the streets?

She also calls out teachers and the institutions where children are taught to realize that 1/3 to 1/2 of their students are introverts and may not learn the best not in group activities but in doing their own work. Realize how different the students are. (I think the best way for this to occur is to have smaller class sizes--though I know that is a difficult topic to some.) Don't simply believe that the "ideal student is an extrovert." That would cut out 1/3 to 1/2 of the students in the classroom.

We introverts need to realize that this is good to be introverts. That it is important that we share our views and share our creative spirits. We don't have to pretend to be extroverts but find a way to let yourself be heard.

I believe that Susan Cain's TedTalk to be very intriguing and worth the watch. She also has a book, that I have yet to read--though I want to, called Quiet: The Power of Introverts in a World that Can't Stop Talking. I am very interested to read this.

But please watch her TedTalk. I enjoy her thoughts immensely.

The Best Friend You Can Ever Have

Friends are something that everyone wants. Whether it is a single friend that you can rely on wholeheartedly or to be the social giant who is constantly surrounded by people, people, people. We seek for friends in our communities who have the same interests that we do. Nerds and geeks seek for nerdy and geeky people. Fans of fandom's are sometimes desperate for other fans. The boys and girls who crave popularity find charismatic ways to become liked by the majority of the people around them. I am not different, but I've found that I've had a hard time making and keeping friends.

I am twenty-three and am on the verge of graduating college. I can strike up conversions with people whom I hardly know in my classes. But they are often times more like acquaintances. We may embrace our inner nerd-ness and let our geek show, which I'm very much okay with doing, but then the long hand on the clock reaches the top of the hour and we all go our separate ways. At the end of the semester, there will be many that I will never see again.

Some of my friends, whom I love dearly and have meant the world to me, sometimes seem to cast me aside. I've found that I've become a friend of convenience to many of those whom I hold dear. I'll only be talked to if I'm the only one around or if they have something they need from me. This can be very disheartening, especially when I need someone to turn to, someone to vent to, someone to lean on. I sometimes feel like a ballerina trying to practice in the empty, mirrored room without a bar to hold one to. Or on occasions it's there, but then suddenly it will vanish. I stumble and fall headfirst into the mirror and smash it. It falls like glitter though it crunches like glass.

Do I always have to start the conversation first? It appears so. Then I only get one word answers. Seconds later, silence.

Recently though, I've come to hug onto my sister more, something  I feel I haven't been able to do in a very long time. We sit in the halls at the university and just talk. Simple little chats and in-depth conversations. She has a very sweet heart and I hope she finds the best guy in the world to be her companion for eternity. She deserves him--the right him. (So, dude, watch out. I'm watchin' you.)

I've also been clinging onto a scripture. Well, a set of scriptures that has brought me immense comfort. It is D&C 93:45. (If you want context, go to the link provided.) But this verse says "Verily, I say unto my servant [insert your name here though originally it says Joseph Smith, Jun.], or in other words, I will call you friends, for you are my friends, and ye shall have an inheritance with me--"

"For you are my friend..." One of the amazing things about this is the word you. Instead of using "thee" like he had previously, he says "you." You may miss the significance of this if you don't know the true difference between "thee" and "you." I've been told that the English of the King James Bible, prominently translated from Greek by William Tyndale in the 16th Century, is the language of scripture. This is why the Book of Mormon and the revelation of the Doctrine and Covenants is written the way it is, with the "thees" and "thous" and why it doesn't get translated into a more Modern English. The difference between "you" and "thee" is how formal or intimate are you will the person you are talking to? "You" is actually the more intimate term. Over the years it has been almost flip-flopped (crazy how languages change right?)

So when Jesus the Christ "I will call you my friends, because you are my friends..." He's not saying, "Lets be Facebook friends and never talk to one another again." He's saying, "You are my best friend. I will see you every day and I can truly understand your struggles. You can turn to me for anything and I will always be standing next to you."

Jesus Christ is the closest friend you can have. Because of His Atonement (this word didn't exist in the English language until William Tyndale, fyi), He can understand what we have gone through. He suffered "pains and afflictions and temptations of every kin; and this that the word might be fulfilled which saith he will take upon him the pains and the sicknesses of his people. And he will take upon him death, that he may loose the bands of death which bind his people; and he will take upon hi their infirmities, that his bowels may be filled with mercy, according to the flesh, that he may not know according to the flesh how to succor his people according to their infirmities" (Alma 7:11-12). I know this to be true. My husband knows a lot about me, but not even he knows as much as Jesus Christ, my Savior and Redeemer. 

Why am I saying this when it started out as a rant on how it often seems I'm friendless? 

I'm never friendless. 

One: I have Jesus Christ on my side and He will never let me down. 
Two: I have the best husband in the world. 
Three: It's sweet when I have to pull away for school and I see my son crying at the window because he doesn't want me to go. (It really warms my heart though I'm making him cry.)
Four: Families are Forever. 
Five: I actually have a few friends who do care, though sometimes they forget it themselves. If I do call on a select few, they will always be there for me. 

These things, though sometimes I forget myself, are the most important. And we all need to remember them, not just me. 

Remember, especially in this Holiday Season to take time and thank your friends and love your family. Not only because you have to, but because you want to and get to. They truly are worth the world. 

Wonder Woman?

I'm a full time mother and a full time college student. My best friend, who is now a mother of two beautiful twin babies, called me Wonder Woman, after I had my son and went back full time at school so I could finish. Yes, I do have a very energetic two year old which makes doing any kind of homework much more difficult, but I wouldn't say "Wonder Woman."

There are many other women who have more kids than I do with much more difficult circumstances than I do. Many divorced or otherwise single mom's are going back to school. A classmate of mine was talking with me just this evening about her three kids, ranging from eleven to three years old, who is planning to graduate when I do. She isn't just doing it with kids, but she's doing it without a husband. I'm twenty-three years old and, while she's not ancient and needing a walker to get around, she's older than I am by at least fifteen years.

If anything, she, and all the women like her who are forced by circumstance to go back to school and take and pay for hundreds of credit hours, are the real Wonder Women.

Often times I complain about this teacher or that assignment. I may have dyslexia, which makes reading assignments as an English Major that much more difficult. We are given (no joke) fifteen novel length books alongside a plethora of short stories and essays that we are asked to read for one single class. I don't even read some of the material because I know I won't be able to finish the entire novel and my other classes assignments at the same time. Right now, if I were to get a good grade in this particular literature class, my history and writing classes would tank. I've had many moments where I have to weigh the many against the one--and this class, with an awful teacher, is the one that gets left behind.

Is it Wonder Woman to prioritize and manage my time? Is it Wonder Woman to suddenly realize that while I've been doing homework my son has watched three movies in a row and it's suddenly almost nap time and no one has eaten lunch? Is it Wonder Woman to freak out and feel like my brain is about to explode because so many words have suddenly been jam-packed into it like an overloaded suitcase?  Not one more sock, not one more word, will fit in this suitcase no matter how hard I try at times. It makes my head ache being on the verge of explosion as I hit ten o'clock at night and crawl into bed because I can't take consciousness anymore.

There is no way, I could do this--being a mom of a two year old, do school whether it was full time or not--on my own. If I was on my own I would also have to have some type of job as well. I don't think I could honestly do it. Any two of the three, yes. But I couldn't do all of them on my own. Even with my supportive husband I can only do two.

If it weren't for my husband and the support that he is--he wants me to finish school and become an author and be the mother I want to be--I couldn't do it. I am weak like that. Having him near makes me strong.

So am I Wonder Woman?

No. That title goes to other women who go through more than I do and succeed.

I am a Partner. Partner in my marriage. When I am at class, my loving husband watches our son. When I'm at home doing homework he is at work or does "ground control" to keep our son occupied so I'm not disturbed--too much. And when I graduate in December, then my husband can fully occupy himself with his schooling and his career. My husband has given me my time to gain the knowledge I wish to acquire, then I can do the same for him. All the while, having our beautiful family.

I don't need to be Wonder Woman, because I have a wonderful husband who tells me that I don't have to go through this alone.