importance of teaching and letting them choose

Today my family has had the opportunity to fast with a purpose. My husband and I sat down with our kids and explained what was going on. We told them about the fast. We asked them to decide how long they wanted to fast. I want to relate what I saw happen to my twelve and ten year old. I'll start with my twelve year old.
She struggled with this a bit. She kept coming to me to express how hard it was for her to fast. She understood why, but felt hungry and was getting a headache. I kept encouraging her to pray, read scriptures about fasting and write in her journal. This went on for a few hours. I finally had to get a little stern with her TO GO SPEND SOME QUITE TIME to gain the answer she wanted. After about an hour she came out of her room and simply said 'I'm ready to end my fast.' I said okay and she went to get something to eat. My son saw her and found me to ask are we done.
I gave him the same instructions has his sister. I told him to pray, read the scriptures and write in his journal, then come tell me his thoughts. He spent an hour or so in his room. When he came to me, there was this quite sweet spirit about him. I asked what he thought. He told me what fasting meant. He learned that we fast to show sacrifice the way Christ did for us. He said he prayed and blessed Grandpa, whom the fast was for. I felt the spirit and I know he did too, because I could see the little teary gleam in his eyes. I asked how he felt and he said good. We talked about how we felt the spirit. I then asked if he was going to end his fast. He said no I want to fast a little longer. He walked out of the room with a strong countenance about him.
I have to admit I am feeling a little proud over my children. They took things they were taught, applied them and made a choice. I think they both tried their best for who they are right now. Would I have liked to be in control of all their thoughts,feels and choices. Well,yes, I think all mothers would, but I understand that at certain times and ages, they need to put things to the test to make it meaningful to them.
It makes me wonder if this is how our Heavenly Father and Jesus must feel. Seeing all of us learn and choose. What love they must feel when we succeed. What heartache they must feel when fail. This is what I feel with my children. This whole worldly journey constantly amazes me. I am so grateful to teach my children. I'm grateful to see how they use their knowledge. I rejoice when they succeed and cry when they don't. I will always love them, just as our Savior loves us.

Rant about the presidents jeans

All right I have had enough people! The straw has broken my camel's back! The presidents jeans ARE NOT NEWS WORTHY!!!! Seriously people lets focus. The big 'news' box on my search engine should be the president's policies and not his lack of fashion.
This applies to all civil servants. I don't care what these people are wearing, looking at or eating. I don't care what kind of phone they use, who does their hair, or if they twitter. All this useless news is driving me crazy.

Another thing stop the 'mom jeans' label. It's bad enough the mom role is becoming some kind a bad taste in the world today...quit perpetuating it!

okay I'm done for now...I'm glad I got that off my chest.

You

A third person, self aware look at the complexity of finding ideas worthy of writing about.

You know you're in trouble when you start searching for how to write the story you want to write. The biggest question you start asking yourself is why? ‘Why am I doing this? What am I afraid of? Am I afraid of looking for that perfect angle to make it big?’ Then you start to feel guilty because that is not the point of writing. Writing isn’t about glory, money or acceptance. It's telling your story; real, imaginary, whatever. So ends the search. You sit, staring at a blank screen while thoughts of the perfect title roam through the imagination rooms of your mind. ‘Oh that's a good one, but is it real story worthy. No that’s been done before. Ugh, no one would read that.’

This loud conversation happens silently in your head while the blank white screen pulses like one of those annoying neon signs in a bad detective story. You can hear it. That buzz, the Bogart like narration. Slowly your hands slip from the keys, on to your lap. The bad accent creeps louder into your mind and you drop your head. As you wish for the perfect idea to spark and the voice to stop, your hands come up. Your head rests softly between the fingers that so desperately want to be producing the next greatest literature work since Shakespeare.

Now there's a thought maybe you can channel Shakespeare. You quickly try to think of 21st century ways to metaphorically explain love, tragedy, and dysfunctional royal families. Except you can't, because even you have a hard time making it through a soliloquy without scratching your head and getting mentally tongue tied. You think Shakespeare wasn't the greatest writer and purveyor of the human condition. He was one big, fat, funny guy; yeah, the class clown. He's up in heaven right now laughing his…, well you get the picture. Then you begin to think, ‘Great! I'm trashing Shakespeare. What is wrong with me?’

You want to tell a story and have the whole world like it, heck just have Oprah like it. It's easy, right? In big giant red letters your brain flashes NO!!!! That’s when you turn off the insincere screen and wander into to the kitchen for that midnight snack because you enjoy feeling sorry for yourself on two levels; mentally and physically. It’s a complete package; Yin n yang. Let the depression begin.

It's better this way, consuming you in the middle of the night where no one will see it. You are keeping your family safe from seeing you suffer. You’re making their lives better by starting to feel depressed now because in the morning you know it will be easier to fake. The days are when life is so busy for anyone to notice how you truly feel. You don't real notice others emotional state either. You sigh in relief at saving yourself and your family from being dragged into to an emotional hurricane. As that thought leaves your head, the last of the gallon of ice cream is gone; you stumble in the direction of your room, ready to sleep off your sugar rush of depression. You hope your dreams are filled with weird, happy thoughts and not the ones that carry the shadow of what has just transpired.

It's midnight again. You’re sitting in front of your computer, browsing for nothing. You are just trying to avoid that need to write something awesome. Seconds tick by as slowly as ideas flood your crammed thoughts. They are useless thoughts really. They are all self deprecating. They make you feel bad that you can't write anything or they take you down memory lane to the time you acted stupid. ‘Stupid!’ you say out loud like you were sucked back in time and the scene is playing out again. You know you’re not stupid. Yet you feel that way right now about something that happened a long time ago. Nobody cares about that anymore including you, so how can you feel stupid. But you do, so you have to make yourself feel better. You give yourself a motivational talking to. Then you breathe that sigh of relief that comes with the satisfaction of self awareness. Yes,’ I'm a coping person,’ you say in a proud vain voice. Then you think, ‘Is that my story? Is that my angle?’ ‘Pfft... No...!’

Nobody wants to read about your normal boring life. It’s too ordinary. That moment of triumphant thought quickly turns on its head and begins to frown. Your shoulder slumps giving you the hunchback look of despair. ‘Oh, no, not walking down ice cream lane of despair, again.’ Let the useless browsing begin with renewed vigor. This form a depression induced high won’t keep kicking you twenty years from now. As the unimportant searching draws out the time, you start to feel numb… you forget your quest for the perfect story and you are happy in social network bliss. When you finally look up, the calming blue glow of 2:05am jars your mind to tiredness. You close down your connection to the world with a few sounds of click. As you slide between the blanket and sheet, you yawn with content happiness. You feel accomplished about all the witty comments made to friends and the profound personal quip you left on your slice of web suburbia.

choice of word

So I was reading a weather article. Everything sounded legit, very sound scientifically. Then I get to a sentences that has the word 'storminess' in it. I had to do a double take. Really;'storminess'?
I really couldn't take anything the article said seriously after that point. I even started to question what I read before I stumbled upon this kitchy word.
When I read an informative piece, I want it to look, smell, taste, and feel ,well, informative.
I don't' want it personal. I don't want it fun. I don't want it given the latest catch phrase. Don't update the vocabulary to fit in. Just give the information so I can process it and move on.

Mom angst

Okay, so what's the deal with kids needed everything the minute you get in the shower or start talking on the phone. My kids are not little anymore. They are in the age range of 7-12. My personal feeling is this; They are old enough to take care of a problem or wait till I'm done, pending an emergency like blood(gushing,bone showing, etc.) or fire.
I know I am not alone in this occurrence. Many of my girlfriends complain about the same phenomenon happening at their house. So what's up universe...why do you have to pick on the moms. It can't be because we are not doing enough. DO I need to make a list, really?
Could you please inspire the children to give their moms a few minutes of peace? I beg, just 10 minutes alone in the shower to get clean, feel refreshed, so I can carry on! I ask that I be allowed to have a grow-up conversation via the phone! I need to know I'm not going insane and conversation in the key. So please hear my request. Inspire the children to leave mom alone for just a short while. It will make home a MUCH happier place.
Thank you

It's funny...

I'm sitting here setting up this blog so I can rant n rave. I want an outlet to express my Big opinions, so I can stop irritating my family and friends. Which I do. I also tend to repeat myself with them. I figure if I 'Blog' I can quit that habit.
Now that I'm here, I find there is nothing currently I want to rant about. I don't really want to say anything. I'm depressed. Which means I don't want to be active in anything.
How sad am I.
The worst part is by the time my life gets to a point where I will have to be active, I'm going to find that difficult. I'm on summer break right now. I don't have the funds this year to keep busy. I'm rotting at home. When summer ends, I don't think I'll be in the mood to start with a good attitude.
I suppose this foresight might help me,. because I didn't really think it was like this till I started typing. Maybe this whole blogging thing will pay off after all. =>

Huh, not until this moment did that Green Day song, "Wake me up when September ends." make sense to me.

funny...