Betsy Enters Girlhood

Betsy has grown into a full-fledged girl, now, with one of her favorite words "shus, shus," -- being repeated endlessly. Already she's far more of a fashionista than her mother... I knew it would happen some day, but really?!? Already?!? She's also been known to bring me bows she wants in her hair, or clothes she'd like to wear. (Trouble is, she's usually already dressed!) At least once a day, she brings me her shoes and insists I put them on her. More often, though, she'll find my flip-flops, and wander over to my feet, where she attempts to dress me. Oh, how quickly the daughter turns into the mother...

About a week ago, while I was busy putting her shoes on her, I told her we were going to GO. "Doh?" She asked. Yes, go. Well, after her shoes were put on I ran to the computer where I was checking grocery ads on-line. A few minutes later -- me still running through the ads online -- there was the gentle tapping as she tried to get that dang flip-flop on me.

Around her neck? My keys.

These, Whom I Miss

Who? Whom? Why did I always miss out on the really good English teachers?





When you live across the street from both the police and fire stations, sirens are an everyday part of life. From time to time, Liz, Jenny, Erin, Annie, or myself would usually ask one another if we'd been woken up on this day or that by the sirens. A conversation would then ensure about joining the real world, where the police station is "down town" and you live on a nice, quiet residential street. One, preferably, without a four-lane road out front.

Thing is: they've all gone. Joined that legendary real world, more or less. And the uncensored truth is, it kinda bites being the one left behind. I am thrilled for the experiences each are having -- but I won't be sad when it's my turn.

I will get a turn, right? Okay. I was just checking.

The Mickelle of Past Tense

In passing the other day, my mom mentioned how talented a couple of my cousins are in communication. My (weak and silly) inner-Kell threw a minor (but very mature) tantrum over this conversation.

I was a speechie through all of high school. I placed at our 5A state competition in Oratory, took 2nd at Districts and thus qualified for Nationals, and placed in numerous other competitions. I'm really not too shabby. Then, after four years without any practice, I competed for and was chosen to deliver the commencement address for the university-wide graduation ceremony.

Back when I started college, I didn't have any strong feelings about what to declare as my major; I'd loved history, communications, psychology, education, and one or two other subjects. After plenty of thinking and pondering, I knew I wanted these four years to be something that would help me and my little family for the rest of our lives -- not just a degree I achieved but that never really did much good after having kids.

So, I chose education. I fell further in love with it along the way and never regretted my choice. I just never felt total fulfillment with it, either. There was an academic drive in other subjects that education never really afforded.

Now, as the momma I'm trying to be, I'm grateful for my education degree. But having been absent so long from a world of mental exertion, I find my identity changing, old parts of me further buried and forsaken. ...I'll probably never give another speech again. And, trust me, I'm very okay with that.

It just bites that, in our small Provo world, with its emphasis on housekeeping, cooking, exercise, and popping out children one per year, I'm a little bit lacking. I miss feeling competent, content, and capable because of my skills. I miss feeling like I have skills. (Hobbies abound. Skills? Not so much.) The few I have -- they're just not much use in this season of life. ...I can't see them really being needed in the future, but I've decided to withhold worry. The Lord knows and loves me; he's blessed me too richly thus far to doubt him now.

It just makes me a little gloomy every once in a while.