How to Start a Fight in 10 Seconds

You know how sometimes you find something funny that you shouldn't?

That would be me, when people tell other people not to judge.

It's like getting two for the price of one. Not only is the accuser judging the accused, but the accuser is also being hypocritical. It's hilarious!

But I really shouldn't find this amusing.

Believe me when I say though, that if you try to hide a laugh and snort instead, when you hear people say things like this, they do NOT think it's funny.

I'd like to say I've outgrown this behavior, but the truth is, I wasn't like this when I was young. It's just since I've hit my so-called maturity that it makes me laugh.

To illustrate, I had an experience in my early twenties in an apartment house that went like this:

Me: "Hi, I don't think I've met you. I live next door. I'm Rebecca."

New Neighbor: "Rebecca? Aren't you ---'s friend?"

Me, smiling: "Yes."

New Neighbor: "DON'T YOU JUDGE ME!!!!" She practically turned purple when she said this.

Me, smile frozen on face, at a loss for words: "Um... okaaay.  Well, it's nice to meet you." I turn to leave.

New Nieghbor: "--- said you're Mormon, and I don't want you judging how I live my life!"

Me: "Alright-y then," Feeling more than a little awkward. But I can tell she wants to talk, so I stay there.

Seriously, I'd never been judged so fast in my life. Most people wait till after they get to know me before they decide they hate me.

Maybe I should have been offended. Maybe I should have made a snide remark or been sarcastic after that, but clearly there was an interesting story there.

So often that's the way it is. I don't think it's human nature to go around being suspicious of everyone, but negative things happen and people gradually get that way. Does that mean we should add to their angst by being nasty?

The irony of this situation was, we turned out to be great friends that summer. I moved a bunch of states away so it didn't last, but we had a lot of fun. She did have a very interesting story behind her attitude too, but it's hers to tell, not mine.

What Kind of Mom are You?

Mother's day is often a day of guilt for moms. It ought not to be that way.

I saw a video online wherein a woman was explaining there are all different kinds of moms and whatever kind of mom you are, it is just right for your kids, that God gave you the skills that are unique for your kids. I kind of smirked and rolled my eyes, but then, I thought, maybe there's something in this.

I asked myself, what kind of mom am I? And I answered, I'm 'suck it up and do it anyway' mom. It's true and I don't apologize for it. It's what my kids need. I'm also 'silly' mom, and they need that too.
I could go on and on about all the stuff I've done wrong. I could tell you all about the horrific mistakes I've made and what makes me believe my children will need therapy the rest of their lives, but I choose not to focus on that this Mother's Day.

As I've mentioned before, I started writing books and blogging because I get sick a lot and get bored and need something to occupy my down time. Unfortunately, before I fully understood the nature of my health and all it's implications, I had produced five children. Yep. Five.

Long story short, each of my kids also has multiple health problems. I have a running health history for each one and each year something else gets added to the list. Who knows what condition they'll be in by the time they reach 50? Budgeting energy as a precious resource is a common topic of discussion in this house.

Yes, in some ways I wonder why God gave me five children before I knew what my genes would do to them. But then, he also equipped me with some unique skills.

The biggest life skills I have to offer them are twofold. The first is to have faith. Believe that life is beautiful and live life fully, regardless of circumstances.

Showing them chronic illness isn't the end of the world is a big goal of mine. Multiple chronic illnesses are not the end of the world. There's plenty to do and experience regardless of our limitations, and a way around those limitations, and divine help to make us better than we are.
Perhaps I should feel sorry for them, but I do not. There is no room for pity when my child may be dying and needs life saving surgery - even if that surgery is going to have an unpleasant recovery.
There is no room for pity when my child is turning blue and can't breathe. There is no room for pity when we are rushing for the ER. There is no room for pity when my child sees life so bleakly they don't know if they have the courage to move forward.

My children do not need my pity. I would be doing them a great disservice to offer it to them. They need faith, they need hope, they need action and care. And then, when the crisis is over, they need a sense of humor.

That's the second life gift I have to offer. The gift of silliness is a great one. Something that can make a smile appear and laugh burble up from the soul -- how important that is!

Believing that if their life ends, they will still be loved and cared for on the other side is important.
But it also takes great courage to live, to go on facing a life of pain, discomfort and continuous doctors and procedures and surgeries. It takes courage and a sense of humor to really live, despite that.

The good Lord gave me illness, but he also gave me the skills to cope. I am all the better and the stronger for it. And someday, my children will see themselves that way too. This is my hope.

The Truth About Butterflies

Phobias are weird things. A person can suddenly become afraid of anything, anything at all, no matter how ridiculous -- or how sweet and innocent.

Well, I'm here to say butterflies are not as sweet as everyone thinks or as innocent. For one thing, they have a diabolical sense of humor.

I had a friend who would sit very, very still in a field full of butterflies for hours on end in the ecstatic hope one would land on her. It never worked. Then she'd try to catch one.

They'd flutter all around her, woosh past her and you could almost hear them say, "Oh, almost got me that time! Almost! Whoohoo, over here, oop, almost had me!" laughing and taunting.

But let me tell you, I could be sitting with not a butterfly in sight, enjoying my day, minding my own business when the next thing I know I've got one on my arm. And believe me, when you've got a butterfly on your arm, you know.

They have poky little feet and nothing else feels like a butterfly foot.
I know how it goes. I know what they say.

One butterfly sees another, jabs him with an elbow and says,

"Hey, Erle."

"Yeah, Stan?"

"You smell what I smell?"

"I dunno."

"Fear pheromones. That there's fear, Erle. Take a deep whiff and breathe that in, you don't get to smell that everyday."

"Yeah. That smells good. That's cause we're butterflies, ain't it Stan? That's cause we're fierce, ain't we Stan?"

Stan rubs his chin with his nasty little butterfly foot."You know what I'm gonna to do? Land on her!"

"You can't! That's against the butterfly code!"

"Butterfly code don't say nothing about landing on no people what are scared."

"I dunno. That don't seem ee-lusive to me. Butterfly code says we gotta be ee-lusive."

"Oh yeah? Watch!"

You want to know something about butterflies? They have tiny little hooks in their feet. Those little suckers can hang on like nobody's business and it takes a lot of flapping, jumping around and screaming to get one off.

"Whooooo! That there's one wild ride! You gotta try that!"

Another thing about butterflies. They're fearless.

"My turn, Stan!"

Have you ever tried to dodge a butterfly? They don't exactly fly around in predictable patterns. It's not like running from a bee you've managed to disgruntle.

"That's right Erle, keep her off kilter! Ha, ha, she don't know which end's up no how!"

Next thing I know, I've got to go through the whole exercise again, after which I feel like I've run a marathon, because on top of all the necessary screaming and jolting maneuvers it takes to get the thing off, my heart's already in panic stricken overdrive from the very presence of the horrid little beasts.

Meanwhile, Erle and Stan are having the laugh of their life and considering their day well spent.
Although phobias are bizarre and take some unusual forms, the good thing about them is, they don't have to be permanent. After twenty or so years of expensive intensive therapy, a butterfly can cross my path and I may not even notice it.

It certainly doesn't make my heart pound or do any other remarkable things to my system. I wouldn't even mind if one landed on my arm, because I always found bugs fascinating, and it would be interesting to get a closer look at it.

I do find it highly suspicious, that after years of being landed on by who knows how many butterflies, not one butterfly has landed on me since I've gotten over this phobia, not one.