Jill's tag

Seven Random Memories:

1. The $5 dates with Scott: Every Tuesday, Movies 8 went to $.50 each, and Doc's pizza buffet was 2 for $4. We saw more crummy movies and enjoyed every second of it. He held my hand so tight the whole movie, I was afraid my whole arm would turn purple. Whenever we could, we'd convince the Weeds to come with us.

2. Right after I finished my last day of teaching, Scott and I headed up to Midway for a four-day trip. Vacationing with a baby is different, but we sure loved it! Betsy was born on a Friday, and Scott was back at school and work by Monday. So we'd never had any time to take in the whole "family" thing. (Then, once school was out for him, he watched Betsy while I went back to school full time.) But there, in Midway, the pace of life was slow. What a fantastic way to finally spend days upon days together, uninterrupted, as our little family! And with me as a stay-at-home mom -- for good.

3. In our newlywed days, Scott worked full-time at Jones Paint & Glass in Cedar while I went to school. Five o'clock always seemed an eternity away -- and I would wait, oh so anxiously, for him to get home. That newlywed apartment may have been tiny, but it suited us so well. Once we were together, we played dorky games on our computer (boggle, Life, etc.), edited home movies, and played ping-pong at the Institute building. And I never, ever won.

4. I was up visiting Scott's family while he was working. It was just the beginning of summer, and one night I happened to check the mcbreo website. Lo and behold, a home was for sale on the Teacher Next Door program -- right in Provo! Right where I'd landed a job! I called Scott immediately, and he and the Weeds went to visit the house together and give me the full report. I think a part of me knew we'd land that house. But it was only about 10%, and the other 90% didn't want to be disappointed.

5. I remember Josh and Lolly's little apartment in Provo. Oh, the hours we spent hanging out with those two! The hours of discussion, the delicious food, the way they welcomed me into the world of Shea-dom! I especially remembered how pretense-free I always felt things were in their little house, how easy and accepting they were. (And still are!)

6. I remember the hours I spent with Tera, reading and talking, back in the days of single-Cedar. The times we did Tae-Bo in Kevin's living room, the way we lived off of frozen fries and chicken tenders, and the way she made faces and we talked in monster voices. I especially miss the faces she made whenever we talked about somebody she didn't like. Ha! So fun!

7. I remember the day Scott and Adam tore down two exterior walls of the house so they could re-build them. There's nothing like standing inside your house but having the odd feeling that it's now more of a fort than a house. And, oh, the trips to IKEA to plan our new kitchen together! I thought we'd NEVER see it finished. And how many wives can say they were practically locked in the bedroom for large portions of their last month of pregnancy -- because the oven was stuck in the hallway until the linoleum was laid? Or say that their husband left her alone at the hospital (after Betsy was born) so he could go put the kitchen together so she didn't have a nervous breakdown? (Thanks to Sarah and Adam for helping him out!)

Seven Random Facts:

1. Scott did virtually all the laundry for the first five years of our marriage. I guess I have the next five.

2. Scott is the king of surprises. I think his largest, to date, was probably either the wedding ring or the wonderful five-year anniversary get-away.

3. I have started cooking. Me, the pretzel queen. I cook.

4. Three thousand christmas lights really doesn't go that far when you want to go for Temple Square-esque intensity. But that's all we have, at least for now.

5. There are only two Diverging Diamond Interchanges in the world. They're both located in France. But Utah is planning on building two more! (Hey, you said random. This is the kind of random you get with a gal who's married to a transportation engineer!)

6. I never could have gone off of sugar without Missy Muldowney. I guess I pretty much (literally) owe her my firstborn child. Luckily, she didn't collect.

7. Having a front porch swing and a piano in the living room are probably the top two things to make me feel like I'm really living in my own space.

Seven Random Things to Look Forward to in the Next Seven Years:

1. Adding more kids to the family!
2. Scott's graduation with his Masters degree
3. Betsy saying Momma and Daddy on purpose. And knowing what they mean.
4. Being out of debt, except the house
5. Choosing a job! (He's already had a few offers. Civil engineers are in decent demand.)
6. Betsy in kindergarten! (I guess I should look forward to that. I will when the time has come. But right now, that's a downright depressing thought. Where will my little girl have gone?)
7. Hopefully owning a few new lenses and maybe even a new body like this one.

BONUS: Running my first 5k

Manipulation of a New Kind

Breastfeeding is a time for Betsy and me to find each other again through the dinners, the dishes, the playmates, and the toys. But, really, you can only gaze lovingly into her sweet eyes for so long. So, she snuggles and nurses, and ...I get to read. Thus, the re- discovery of the public library some 7 months ago. During my last visit, this book caught my eye.

Books like Born To Buy usually make me want to run out to Wyoming and live in seclusion. The problem is, very few civil engineering jobs are available in the middle of nowhere.

It's no secret kids are being targeted -- manipulated, really -- at a younger and younger ages to become consumers. Who wants to read all about it? Frankly, it sounded depressing. So, there I stood in the Provo City Library, determined to hate a book I had no reason to read, but planned on reading anyway. But ignorance is not bliss, it's the fast route to regret. So, that very same day, I started reading it. Scott and I talked about it that night before bed. I couldn't believe the things I was reading -- not all of them were horrid and satanical; some made perfect sense. But some of the tactics advertisers employ? Not. Good. Quite. Bad. Actually. (And it wasn't just advertisers. Kids' shows -- and adult shows -- were laden with themes designed to destroy the family.)

A for-instance? Let me share three. Oh, and anything in italics has been added by me. In case you want to NOT spend your whole life reading this entry.

Age Compression

One of the hottest trends in youth marketing is age compression -- the practice of taking products and marketing messages originally designed for older kids and targeting them to younger ones. Age compression includes offering teen products and genres, pitching gratuitous violence to the twelve-and-under crowd, cultivating brand preferences for items that were previously unbranded among younger kids, and developing creative alcohol and tobacco advertising that is not officially targeted to them but is widely seen and greatly loved by children. ...It includes the marketing of designer clothes to kindergartners and first graders. It includes the deliberate targeting of R-rated movies to kids as young as age nine, a practice the major movie studios were called on te carpet for by the Clinton administration in 2000.

Nowhere is age compression more evident than among the eight-to-twelve target. Originally a strategy for selling to ten to thirteen year olds, children as young as six are being targeted for tweening. And what is that exactly? Tweens are "in-between" teens and children, and tweening consists mainly of bringing teen products and entertainment to ever-younger audiences. Even the family-friendly Disney Channel is full of sexually suggestive outfits and dancing. A stroll down the 6X-12 aisles of girls' clothing will produce plenty of skimpy and revealing styles. People in advertising are well aware of these developments. Emma Gilding of Ogilvy and Mather recounted an experience she had during an in-home videotaping. The little girl was doing a Britney Spears imitation, with flirting and sexual grinding. Asked what she wanted to be when she grew up, the three year old answered: "A sexy shirt girl." As researcher Mary Prescott (pseudonym) explained to me in the summer of 2001, "We're coming out of a trend now. Girl power turned into sex power. A very sexy, dirty, dark thing. Parents were starting to panic."

Ambercrombie and Fitch came under fire for selling thong underwear with sexually suggestive phrases to seven to fourteen year olds. And child development expert Diane Levin alerted parents to the introduction of World Wrestling Entertainment action figures recommended for age four and above, which included a male character with lipstick on his crotch, another male figure holding the severed head of a woman, and a female character with enormous breasts and a minimal simulated black leather outfit and whip. Four year olds are also targeted with toys tied to movies that carry PG-13 ratings.

Some industry insiders have begun to caution that tweening has gone too far. At the 2002 Kid Power conference, Paul Kurnit spoke out publicly about companies "selling 'tude' to pre-teens and ushering in adolesence a bit sooner than otherwise." Privately, even more critical views were expressed to me. ...Prescott, who is more deeply immersed in the world of tweening, confessed that "I am doing the most horrible thing in the world. We are targeting kids too young with too many inappropriate things. It's not worth the almighty buck."

Anti-adultism

What else is cool? Based on what's selling in consumer culture, one would have to say that kids are cool and adults are not. Fair enough. Our country has a venerable history of generational conflict and youth rebellion. But marketers have perverted those worthy sentiments to create a sophisticated and powerful "anti-adultism" within the commercial world. ...Nickelodeon's back-to-school campaign featured a teacher who looked like a battle-ax, advice on how "to make the substitute teacher screech," and opportunities to "slime the teacher."

...The world of children's marketing is filled with the us-versus-them message. A prominent example is the soft drink Sprite, one of the most successful youth culture brands. One witty Sprite ad depicted an adolescent boy and his parents on a road trip. The parents are in the front seat singing "Polly wolly doodle all the day," the epitome of unnerving uncool. He's in the back, banging his head on the car window in frustration, the ignominy of being stuck with these two losers too much to bear... A Fruit-on-the-Go online promotion tells kids that "when it comes to fashion class, your principal is a flunkie.

Consider a well-known Starburst classroom commercial. As the nerdy teacher writes on the board, kids open the candy, and the scene erupts into a riotous party. When the teacher faces the class again, all is quiet, controlled, and dull. They dynamic repeats itself, as the commercial makes the point that the kid world, courtesy of the candy, is a blast. The adult world, by contrast, is drab, regimented, BORRRR-inggg.

Pester Power

When all else fails, there's always nagging, or what the British side of the industry calls Pester Power. Thanks to Cheryl Idell's widely influential "nag factor study," and numerous derivative reports, this time-honored technique of kids has become heavy artillery int eh industrial arsenal. A number of research outfits now devote enormous time and energy to figure out how to get kids to get their parents to buy stuff. Child Research Services runs consumer panels called CAPS (child and parent studies), which study child-parent interactions. The Cincinati-based Wondergroup, a prominent nag factor proponent, counsels clients that even pre-verbal babies can be effective naggers. How can companies get kids to make more purchase requests? How can they facilitate requests that will be effective? Once a benign nuisance, nag factor is now a topic of intense scrutiny.

A 2002 poll by the Center for a New American Dream that I collaborated on suggests that kids have embraced pester power in a big way. Eighty-three percent of youth in the twelve-to-thirteen age range report that the've asked their parents to pay for or let them buy something they'd seen advertised. Forty percent report they've done it for an item they thought their parents disapproved of or didn't want them to have. After their parents have denied the request, 71 percent of them kept asking. The average number of asks is eight, but over a quarter of kids ask more than ten times. Eleven percent repeat their request more than fifty times. Half of the twelve to thirteen year olds report that they are usually successful in getting their parents to let them have something they want that they saw advertised even if their parents won't want them to have it. ...[Marketers] promote the idea of kids "training" their parents, even without the parents' realizing it. Reports from focus groups suggest that mothers attempts to limit the number of product requests per shopping trip. Meanwhile, kids report that they have already trained their mothers to buy items previously requested, enabling them to use their requests for new items.

My blog is hardly condensing half of a chapter -- and, frankly, this is some of the lesser-shocking material. The point is: We can't change media. And, really, we can't move to Wyoming. But we can talk to the Lord. He knows our children better than we do. And, oh, how he wants to help.

BetsyShow

Six and seven months is a darling age. The world is so exciting -- so full of adventure. The babbling, the smiles, the happily exploring any floor she's left on. I just can't get enough of it.

My favorite thing right now is how social Betsy is. Absolutely social. When I take her on errands with me, she's thrilled to see new things and watch. But the minute she sees someone get very close to her, she starts putting on BetsyShow. It starts with smiles in the person's general direction. Nine times out of ten, she has them in the palm of her hand instantly. But occasionally, her subject will be busy looking through their purse, or reading a magazine, or what have you. Then, she pumps it up to level two: the smiles, the eye contact, plus the baby babbles. No one can resist. At least, I haven't met anyone yet.

smaller miracles are just as real.

Like most women, I've wanted to form a consistent, regular exercise routine (five days a week) ever since... well, probably high school. The closest I came was the summer in college where Tera and I used to do Tae-bo in Kevin's living room when everyone was gone. That's another story. But every valiant exercise attempt lasted no more than a week or two. If I was lucky.

It was never a question of wanting to work out. The answer to that was simple -- no. I didn't want to. Technically speaking, it was more of a "HECK, NO." I was desperate, however, to become the type of person who actually wanted to. And I didn't know how.

For all I could tell, it seemed to be a gene, and I'd missed it. Really missed it. Like, you know the joke about "not standing in the right line in heaven" to get naturally curly hair, or musical skill, or athletic ability? Yeah. That was me and my bod. We were stuck with each other -- and neither me or my body seemed to be crazy about the arrangement.

Lately -- and I don't know why, or how, but I've grown. I run. I run. I run. It seems to have come from nowhere. One day I started, and ...it just kept going. The struggle to continue diminished. Even after a week-long trip out of state -- I get back into it; I keep on going. Even after an injury. Even when Betsy's ornery. The sustainability factor is astounding.

And all of this rambling about me and my new-found appreciation for exercise? Well, I keep wondering about progress. Learning. Growth. How it happens. For me, I seem to take these magical spurts. Sometimes, I fight and fight and no matter how hard I try, I just don't make the progress I'd like. Then, without any reason at all, the pieces are in place and things work. I don't know what was wrong before, or what has adjusted to make everything right.

And it's always been that way -- with so many things: public speaking, exercise, cooking, teaching, religious studies.

As a teacher, I noticed that same trend with some of my students. With most of them, though, I noticed that as they began a new skill, their first success wasn't consistent. There was a practicing stage - sometimes short, sometimes long - before mastery occurred. I, however, seem to have a delayed (delaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaayed) time frame before I even begin showing any sign of progress. Then I leap up quickly -- if not to mastery, at least to significant improvement.

Growth is interesting, isn't it? It's been very faith-promoting for me to suddenly discover that, even with things I didn't think I'd ever be able to change, new skills can be learned. The Lord works miracles of all colors and varieties. If he can raise the dead, he can help me learn to run. And he's loving enough to do just that.

I live in the Bermuda Triangle.

Well, I can't believe I'm posting here again already! Three posts in September and we're only on day #4. Sheesh. I need to back off.

So, a few nights ago I'm in our back bedroom. It's about 9:30 at night; Betsy's in my arms and I'm just getting ready to put her in her crib when all heck breaks loose just outside our window. For those who know our house, it's the little parking area between our house and The Copy Man. It's dark, so I can't see much, but here's some of what I hear:

• Sirens. About 10 police sirens. They all stop around my house, The Copy Man, and the four-plex behind our house.

• "That's my wife! That's my pregnant wife in the car!"

• "Put your hands in the air."

• "Stop resisting arrest!"

• Lots of punching

• A taser gun going off. Twice.

• A car window being broken

• Two ambulances showing up

...You get the idea. Total mayhem. Turns out our neighbor in the front of the four-plex had just been driving home from an evening out with her husband. On the drive home, she dropped him off at his car and they drove back in separate cars -- thankfully, with him following just behind her.

As she pulls in to park, a guy (wearing only a pair of ridiculously short shorts) starts running at her. She only has time to lock one door -- her own -- before he's in the car's back seat, shouting for her to get out of the car. Well, she can't. Her door is broken; once it's locked, it's locked for good. So he crawls up to the front of the car and tries to push her out. When he discovers she's not lying, he puts the car in drive and tells her to take off. By then, her husband is banging on the rest of the car doors (which the criminal had locked) and trying to get his poor wife out.

The police, who have been chasing Mr. Bad Guy since he punched two cops and ran from a routine traffic stop, were quick to the scene. Unfortunately, all they see is her husband trying to force his way into the car. Of course, they want to arrest him. Once they figure out what's really going on, they go over to her side of the car and reach through the window to taser the carjacker. Mr. Bad still won't get out... and they end up breaking the car window and pulling him out through the hole. Once out, he proceeds to resist arrest, so they punch on him quite a bit till he starts seeing things their way. Sort of.

Turns out he was drunk and high on PCP, coke, meth, and marajuana. He had plenty of drugs on him at the time of arrest, so hopefully he's going away for a very long time there.

What a story.

What a night.

But it's not over.

When all the drama was mostly over, but all the cops were still around, a hit-and-run occurs about 10 feet from my front yard. We think the vehicle who hit the other car was busy checking out the scene with all the cop cars and just wasn't watching the road. So, he hits the other car, looks a few observers right in the eye, and darts off at 40 mph. Surprise, surprise, the police are conveniently close and get the guy just a few blocks away. But the woman seven months pregnant with twins, who was driving the vehicle that got hit, ends up in an ambulance.

The drama with the hit-and-run was almost over; the cops were finishing their duties and our neighbors were finishing their witness reports. The tow truck had just loaded his second vehicle for the night -- the first being the car from the carjack. All of a sudden, a pick-up (going 15 or 20 mph) crosses four lanes of traffic and rams into a tree just feet away from where the cops, witnesses, and tow truck guy had all been standing. Everyone rushes over, assuming someone in the truck has gone into a seizure or had a heart attack. Doors fly open, and everyone stares.

The vehicle is empty.

And the witness report paperwork begins all over again.

Cast Your Vote

I need a new hairstyle, I think. Not looking for anything drastically different; just something more independent. I want a hairstyle that isn't so needy. This "Curl me, or I'll look like a wet noodle" stuff has got to go. I do not allow hair to give me ultimatums. So, here's the criteria:

• Hairstyle must be able to look attractive without curls. Some days, 10 minutes is all I have to give.
  
• Hairstyle should look good with curls. And be pin-curl accessible. Oh, how I want to be a pin-curling expert.

So, weigh in. Tell me what you think of these five hairstyles. I can't promise to go with the voice of the people, (after all, some of you may find a way around the system and double-vote.) but I really want your thoughts. Here are the choices:

The First Ten Reasons

By way of late anniversary celebration, I wanted to tell you a few things about Scotty that make me swoon.

• Scott is a man that takes care of his wife. Whenever I ask, and often times even when I don’t, he just save the day by whisking my precious (but noisy) daughter away for an afternoon walk. Or evening walk. Or midnight walk.He writes Marcus a letter every single week. It’s always positive, it’s always encouraging, and it’s always 2-6 pages long.
  

• He has unabashed favoritism towards his child.Nobody’s eyes quite match his shade of bright blue.
  

• He took delight in Betsy as an infant. Many men prefer older babies and toddlers. I think Scott would understand why, but he was just as enamored with her then as he is now.
  

• I have a new kitchen. I have new cupboards. I have windows and linoleum and a sink and carpet and paint. It’s wonderful. And it was all installed by WonderHusband.
  

• He encourages my hobbies. He loves to see me stretch myself in any way I choose. I don’t think I could pick a hobby that he wouldn't start purchasing accessories for. (It’s so wonderful to not have to beg for a nice camera, but to have him insist on it. That’s love.)
  

• He can clean a kitchen (or any other room) at three times the speed of Mickelle.
  

• He wants to live someplace rural. And never have cable TV. And have a big collection of old movies. Who would I find to fit me better?

• When he comes home, even after a long day of work, he’s wanting to lighten my load. Wow.