Look at those Jazz Hands go!

My sister (one of our most faithful HCT readers) referred me to this video, another Anita Renfroe brainchild, after seeing our (A More Real) Love Story post. While I can't quite say that I look forward to having wrinkles, necessarily, I love Anita's healthy, yet hilarious, view on getting older. Enjoy!

(A More Real) Love Story

One of my friends linked me this video and it seriously made my day. It made me laugh...and almost made me cry it was so true to life. Hope you enjoy it half as much as I did!

We are sowing, daily sowing...

I was attending our recent Stake Young Women Leadership Meeting*. While there, we sung the song We Are Sowing, to go along with the idea of how we are helping to grow a garden of strong, spiritual girls. Well, not only did this song remind me of young women...but my thoughts eventually led, as they typically do, to motherhood. The song starts with the line, "We are sowing, daily sowing Countless seeds of good and ill," then goes on to describe all the different places these seeds could be sown. There are the good places, like in "rich, brown furrows, Soft with heaven's gracious rain," and not so good places, like those "cast out in crowded places, trodden under foot of men."


It just reminded me that through the day, I'm sowing seeds inside my children, both with my harsh words and my gentle ones. When I teach my children of Jesus...and when I unintentionally teach my children that yelling is an appropriate way to express emotion. Sorry to be such a downer...but I was actually really comforted while singing the song, because the overall message of it is that even though our good seeds often fall on deaf ears, that some of them really do fall in fertile places...that if we ask the Lord to "bid thine angels guard the furrows Where the precious grain is sown," that he really WILL help us in our teaching of our children and in their ability to listen and learn. It's tough work being a mommy, especially since I often wonder if all my children will do is remember the yells and time-outs and forget the frequent hugs, giggles, and kisses...but this song reminded me that with the not-so-great seeds we sow, we also sow wonderful seeds, "sown in tears and love and prayer." At the end of the day, that's all I can really do. I can go to work in my garden of children and pray for the Lord to help my seeds take root, growing healthy and strong.


*For those of you not members of the LDS church, Young Women is our female version of your typical church youth group and our Stake is our church's organization in the area we live in.

Love Whose Body?

What time is it, Readers?

You guessed it...time for another Media Rant by Whitney.

On the menu this time, my own beloved Vicky S. Let me start off by saying I LOVE Victoria's Secret. I really, truly do. I love their bras. I love their lingerie. I love their body creams. What I can do without is their recent hypocrisy. VS has launched a mini-line, titled 'Love Your Body' within their best-selling Body line. At first I was sort of thrilled to hear this. I envisioned ads containing women of all shapes and sizes a la Dove's Real Beauty Campaign. Ya know: young, old, short, tall, curvy, boyish, etc. Come to find out...mmmm, not so much. In fact, the ads contain nothing more then a line up of, you guessed it, perfectly proportioned models.


So, whose body exactly am I supposed to be loving? I can tell ya right now I'm not loving looking at stick-thin models with legs up to here, yet still magically having D-size boobs. Yeah, not in love with that at all, actually.


To top it off, the campaign includes a video of the models discussing all the different parts of a man's body they love. Again, how is this supposed to help me love my body? Watching a panty-clad model lounge about discussing how much she loves a man's tummy (while pointing out her own amazingly toned abs for inspection), does not make me LOVE my very own post-baby body. So, next time you attempt to help women around the world love THEIR bodies, why don't you start by actually loving THEIR bodies yourself? Sorry VS, but you reeeeally missed the mark this time.


For those who are interested...

The 'What do you love about a man's body' Video:



The 'Love Your Body' Commercial:

Breaking Point

I'm reaching the breaking point with my son. Seriously reaching the point where I want to return my kids. Can I return these for my old body, my sanity, and a new pair of hot high heels? Starburst jelly beans (which are my favorite and you can only find at Easter time) are my cigarettes (don't smoke or drink, so it's candy for me).

We are reaching the terrible two's. Some people say it only gets worst from here. I'm inclined to believe them. He's broken two of my dishes, tried to eat sunscreen, went around eating the old bread I had thrown out for the birds, covered himself head-to-toe in dirt (of course he was wearing his NICE clothes too), and tried dancing in the bathtub. Normally this would just be a normal day. I might feel exasperated, tired, a little irate, but I could deal with it. But nooOOoo - we have to add the hitting, kicking, throwing, and the temper tantrums. The full out, throws himself on the floor (sometimes with his little fists pounding the floor), screaming and crying tantrums. I'm becoming a pro at getting a diaper on a running, screaming 2 year old.

Today I wanted to throw myself on the floor and join him in the tantrum. The thought of what people would think of a mother and her son prostrate on the floor of WalMart screaming and crying is enough to make me smile (oh right - and keep from doing it). Then there's the crying. If it isn't one kid it's the other. The crying alone would make most people break.

Last night I went grocery shopping - by myself! Two blissful hours without kids. I came home to a giant hug from my husband. Apparently our daughter screamed the entire time for him while he tried to wrestle our son to bed. "I don't know how you do it, but thank you. You are a great Mom." He said. Today, I don't know if I can do it. So, I'm taking a very. deep. breath.