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Feminism is a word that has been tossed around most of my life.  I can remember the feminists of the 70s with their Enjoli perfume anthem "I can bring home the bacon.  Fry it up in a pan.  And never, never let you forget you're a man, 'cause I'm a woman. W-O-M-A-N."  Yes, I sang this loudly and proudly even though I didn't need a song to define feminism for me--I had examples all around me. Recently, John and I have been watching M*A*S*H* reruns, and sexual freedom and choice seem to be the defining heart of feminism during that decade.  My mother defined feminism by having a career when most other women her age were staying at home, raising children.  My grandmother defined feminism by never backing down from anything.  And my other grandmother defined feminism by being an athlete when others weren't.  I've discussed all of this before, mostly trying to find my own definition of the term and trying to figure out exactly where I sit on the feminism s

Seeing Ethan and Rebecca tackling all of the obstacles that come with parenting (and I'm just throwing it out there that there are obstacles, and not that Ethan and Rebecca seem to have very many of them), I'm taken back to when John and I were in the same situation.  We had a two-and-a-half-year old at home, and a new baby arriving any day.  I was extremely nervous for a second baby, only because Ethan had been such a colicky baby and had literally drained me of any physical and emotional reserves.  I had been forced to give up everything for Ethan--schooling, work, and all hobbies and interests, because he needed me 24/7. I was pleasantly surprised when Mark was born, because he was the easiest baby on the planet.  Seriously, I can't even remember Mark as a little baby, because he didn't do much of anything except sleep and eat.  I considered his personality a blessing.  However, when I came home from the hospital, John's mom (and sisters possibly) were waiti

This week, I had the privilege of watching my second grand baby come into the world.  When I think of the opportunities we humans  have, I think being born is probably near the top of the list.  After all, none of this life would be possible if we aren't born, am I right? It especially touches my heart when I think of who we are before we are born. As I've matured through life, I've developed a few thoughts about the premortal life, none of which are scripture or doctrine, but which help me process things here on earth now.  I've known people and couples--good, god-fearing people--who have children who don't fulfill any of those parents' expectations, and their parents end up asking themselves, "What did I do wrong?"  John and I, on the flip side, thank God for getting so lucky with the four kids we have.  It might be a nurture thing, and people ask me how we parented our kids with such success, but I believe it's more of a nature thing:  we all

Originally, I wasn't planning on going out to Utah to see Baby #2 being born.  In fact, I tried to tell myself that it was going to be okay (it would) . That we didn't have the money (we didn't).  That if I waited long enough, the airline prices would magically go down to a price I could afford (they didn't). However, when Rebecca gave me an induction date, five days before she was actually due, I felt the pull to go.  Again, I told myself that we couldn't afford it.  But John knew I wanted to go.  So during the night, he checked into airlines miles that we had accrued, and he discovered that he had at least enough to get me a free flight to Salt Lake.  We would need to pay for the return flight.  I didn't really want to even look into it (mostly because I didn't want to pay for the return flight), but he pushed me into doing it.  And yes, I was mad at him for it, because it takes a lot of effort to really work out all that kind of stuff with the airlines.