Showing posts with label sacrifice. Show all posts
Showing posts with label sacrifice. Show all posts

Thursday, February 3, 2011

Mormon Mish



Mormon Misionaries are people too, ya know.  You ever see those guys around?  They got the name tags and sometimes ride bikes in suits and ties and all?  I'm a fan.  

I fed the Mormon Missionaries today.

Big ol' Ham, mashed potatoes, tossed salad, rolls and brownies.

I signed up of my own violation.  (Usually I just let the "Feed The Missionaries" Clip Board slip right by.)

For those of you Not-Mormons: Young men are admonished to serve a 2-year full time mission when they turn 19.  They are sent all over the world to teach and preach.

Mad Respect to all the kids on a Mish.  Missions are a super huge deal.  Most dudes at the age of 19 are hookin up and gettin high.  Mormon 19 year olds are interviewed extensively to ensure there ain't no hanky panky.

Once on the mish they aren't allowed to listen to music or watch TV or date.  Ouch.



When we sat down to dinner tonight I was nosey right away.

"So... you guys have a Lady waiting for you at home?" I asked.

"I've got a few," said one.

The other hung his head.

So I pushed my luck.

"What about YOU?  Hmmmm?  You're awful quiet over there," I taunted.

"My girlfriend got pregnant recently...," he said.

We were all at a loss for words until 7 year old T-Bone shouted, "WELL HOW'D SHE GET PREGNANT?!" (T hasn't had The Talk yet...)

Our sad Missionary went on to say he and his Lady had been together TWO YEARS.  She promised to wait.  She promised her undying Love and Devotion.  Then she got knocked up.  The scoundrel took off.  Now she wants to be forgiven.  She e-mails constantly.  She plans to name her unborn son after Mr. Missionary! 

Poor guy is helpless and heartbroken.  He's from Canada, which is where I bought my fluffy red slippers. (See pic below.)

So I said, "See my fluffy slippers?  I bought them in Canada last fall.  They sell a lot of furry things in Canada." 

I think my Canadian slippers made him feel better about his prego GF.  Something to remind him of home...






"She obviously still loves you,"  I said.  "People make mistakes.  Would you ever consider her again?"

"I told her not to name her kid after me," he said.

Makes perfect sense.

Stranger then fiction, eh?

I wanted to know about their Mish experience thus far.

"So have you had any terrible, bad luck while you've been on your mission," I asked.  ( Good luck stories are boring.)

"Yeah.  I knocked on a door and three hillbillies came out with shotguns and told us to get off their property."

Hot dang!  That's ROUGH!

I had a missionary once upon a time.  My very own personal missionary.

He was tall and pretty.  A writer.  Chris.

Chris and Crystal.

Sometimes he stood me up on dates because he was writing and lost track of time.  But I always forgave, like an idiot.

We dated for 2 years.  I promised him my undying Love and Devotion.  I promised him I would wait.

He was sent to Poland.

Four months before Chris came home I met My Big Sexy Viking.  Sent the "Dear John".  Got hitched.

Poor Chris.  I felt really badly.  Don't worry.  He's recovered.



My man served a mission in Virgnia.  Good thing too.  Or I wouldn't have married him.  He was all tatooed up with a shaved head and hoop earrings when I met him.  And he got in punching fights all the time.  The mission redeemed him in my eyes.  People threw hamburgers and drinks at him and his companion when he was on his little missionary bike.  Mean.  He should have punched them.

 Mormon missionaries are pretty amazing.  They give up everything to Serve God and share Faith.  They go from door to door facing countless rejection.  They suffer heartbreak and heartburn. 

Makes me sad to hear about people being unkind to them.  :(  It also makes me wanna slash their tires.



Thursday, July 8, 2010

Pissed Off Mama Mountain Lion





















I'm PISSED!  SEETHING!

Usually I force myself to find The Funny in rude or hurtful comments from readers.  Let it roll off my back, ya know?

Sarah Palin likes to refer to powerful women leaders as "Mama Grizzlies".  I prefer Mountian Lions.

People that leave hateful anonymous comments are clearly in need of attention.  Maybe their mommies didn't nurse them when they were babies...  Sad...  Not enough time at their momma's teat...  WAH! WAH! WAH!




















Others have life/blog rage and want someone else to absorb the shock induced from their lack of emotional control.

"IN ORDER FOR THEM TO SPEND YOUR TAX MONEY, YOU HAVE TO ACTUALLY WORK AND PAY TAXES..."

That's the comment from yesterday's post that has my blood boiling.

I am a highly intelligent, attractive and educated woman.  I speak two languages.  I am capable of selling ice to Esquimos.  I have checked my facts.  I say what I mean and I mean what I say.

Given those qualifications WHY would I not be an active contributor to the Gross National Product?

Sacrifice.

I sacrifice the accolades of man.  I sacrifice the fat pay check I KNOW I'm capable of earning.  I sacrifice.

I sacrifice for my 4 babies.  I sacrifice MY DESIRES for success and recognition so I can be a mother to my children.

When my children get sick in the middle of a school day they know Mama will rescue them in 5 minutes flat.  When Serena comes home in tears because the girls at school were mean she doesn't have to call my office or text me to tell me about her bad day.  She knows she comes FIRST.

I am front and center in their lives.

 I am the warmth of a fireplace in a family room on a frigid winter night.  My children gather around me regularly so that I might defrost the chill that comes of living in a cold, cruel world.  I defrost them with my words.  I defrost them with my kissess and hugs.  I defrost them with my humor and support.  But most importantly, I defrost them with my very PRESENCE.

They are my everything.

Our family enjoyed great prosperity due to the housing boom.  We became a statistic when the rug was pulled from under us.

One option to maintain a similar standard of living was for me to work, as well as my husband.

I refuse.

I have done my best to stretch every dollar so I am available to the people who matter most to me in life.

Tragedy to me would be having to work a jealous job and have my little ones be raised by daycare workers making minimum wage and checking the clock every five minutes in the hopes of quittin' time. 

I realize some mothers have no choice.  Some mothers would give anything to be home with their lil ones but MUST work.  I'm sorry for those women.

But there are those women who work long hours because they want to be able to keep up on their beauty treatments and summer cruises.  Their children suffer.  Their children miss their mommies.

I've heard women say, "I work outside the home because the whole-stay-at-home-mom thing is much HARDER."

I'm here to vouche that it is indeed harder.

The ignorant comment above insinuates I don't work.  I have no need to catalogue my chores and responsibilities for you, but let me assure I WORK MY ASS OFF DAILY.

My B.S. is in International Marketing from the very prestigious Marriot School of Management at Brigham Young University.

Don't for one minute think what I have opted to do with my life is easy.

I would LOVE to travel the world and use my many skills and talents to bring home some substantial green.

I would LOVE to maintain the standard of living that became so comfortable to my family and now eludes us.

I would LOVE to leave a flaming bag of dog shit on the doorstep of the Mr. Anonymous.

I realize the life I have chosen is very  Where's-The-Beave-June-Cleaver.

Having to depend on a man to bring home every penny is beyond humbling when I know of which I am capable.


















My children know that I would die for them.

But more importantly, I LIVE for them.  I FIGHT for them.

Sacrifice.

Anyone who would disparage a mother of four for choosing her babies over money is a heartless IDIOT.  IDIOTA!

(Speaking two languages comes in handy often...)

GRRRRRRR!