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I’ve wanted to be more “creative” lately, so I picked up a book of ideas, The Artist’s Way by Julia Cameron. I liked some of her suggestions, but others just weren’t right.

Her main premise is that creativity is God-given, and if we nurture ourselves, we will find it within us. That concept reminded me of Elder Uchtdorf’s talk at the Relief Society meeting:

The desire to create is one of the deepest yearnings of the human soul. No matter our talents, education, backgrounds, or abilities, we each have an inherent wish to create something that did not exist before.

Everyone can create. You don’t need money, position, or influence in order to create something of substance or beauty.

Creation brings deep satisfaction and fulfillment. We develop ourselves and others when we take unorganized matter into our hands and mold it into something of beauty .

Julia Cameron tells us that the key to career resiliency (that is, finding a creative career more suited to your creativity) is self-empowerment and choice. Since I stepped out of an office (my choice) to have my baby (also my choice) and I haven’t been back (still my choice), I pretty much chose my current career. And I wouldn’t have it any other way.

No trumpets sound when the important decisions of our life are made. Destiny is made known silently. Agnes de Mille (quoted on page 144)

Raising a family is my destiny.

I picked up this book at just the wrong time. She has good ideas, but I don’t have time for them. And some ideas really don’t seem all that good. She encourages readers to take the time to write 20 minutes in the morning pages, write another hour every day, and take a break every week for an artist’s date. Get a sitter now, stop serving other people, and serve yourself for once. If you don’t let yourself do these things, she suggests, you aren’t giving yourself the luxury you deserve.

Part way into this book, I realized why I was so bothered: My baby is my luxury. I waited my entire life to be a mother, and I have the blessing of staying home with my baby. It means I’m not going to write for an hour every day. Serving others, particularly my baby, is a great way that I feel spiritual; if I only served myself all the time, I’d feel very depressed. Life is about service to others!

Yet, I think she has good points for people trying to make creativity a career; you can’t make a career out of writing on the side. Toni Morrison (quoted on page 97) said:

We are traditionally rather proud of ourselves for having slipped creative work in there between the domestic chores and obligations. I’m not sure we deserve such big A-pluses for that.

I completely agree: I’ve been trying to slip in my creativity during the day. But that’s not how it’s done. If I’m serious about my writing, I must be serious when I write.

Cameron would probably suggest that I’m afraid to start being creative, so I’m using my baby as an excuse. Maybe I am afraid. But she does asks the reader to ponder what gives us true joy (page 110), and we are encouraged to pursue that thing. I realized that I already am pursuing it: my baby gives me true joy. Yes, it’s hard work to always watch him every day. No, there really isn’t any time off, although there are nap breaks most days. I suppose that to be truly creative, I can’t be a full-time, never-stop mom, as I am. But I don’t want to change that for any amount of creativity.

By reading The Artist’s Way, I’ve been inspired to seek moments of creativity. I won’t write a novel this month, but I’ll start writing the morning pages. I might not make a daily career of my writing, but I’ll do what I can on the side.

That’s not something to be proud of, but it’s what I can do now, in the midst of my dream career. And I can be proud of following “The Mother’s Way.”

Tags: creativity

Paul is one-year-old today. I spent all day trying to think of something creative and deep I could write on my page that shows how much I learned in the past year and how much I love my little boy. I didn’t think of anything clever.

Today I did wipe his nose a number of times . And we ate. A lot. He’s a happy little boy, but my does he love to eat!

I love my little boy. I’ve learned a lot.

Click over here to see some pictures of my little boy growing over the past year. I’m still working on getting the 12-month pictures up on the web.

I actually cooked dinner for my family Sunday night. It was deliciously successful and the soup was super-easy, so I thought I’d share what I did. I’m not sure which parts were actually on the recipe I had, but here’s what I did.

• In a medium-sized pot, saute 2 (small) onions in butter until soft
• Add 1 15-oz can of (low sodium) chicken stock and simmer for 10-15 minutes.
• Take off heat. Put in blender until smooth.
• Put back on heat. Add 2 15-oz cans pureed pumpkin* and 2 more 15-oz cans of (low sodium) chicken stock. Throw in ground ginger (about 1/4-1/2 teaspoon), ground cinnamon (the lid fell off the container and I dumped probably half a tablespoon in and it was great), and black pepper to taste. You might need some salt, but taste it before adding any (the broth might be salty enough).
• Simmer for 15 minutes or however long it takes you to prepare the rest of dinner, feed your baby, set the table, or do something else.
• If you want, put it in the blender again to make sure it’s smooth. This may not be necessary. Bring it back to a simmer until warm.
• Turn the heat very low and add 1/2-1 cup of cream or whole milk. Warm the soup, but DO NOT LET IT BOIL.
• Take it off the heat and serve.

*If you bake and puree your own pumpkin, make sure you strain it really well, or it ends up all stringy. I learned this when I was in Australia dn they didn’t sell canned pumpkin.

There are so many little things that I’m enjoying about being back in the USA. Living in the USA is so much more comfortable!

• Turning on red lights
• Baggers at the grocery store (although I wonder how much we pay for their services in additional grocery store prices)
• Long conveyer belts at the grocery store (long enough to fit all my groceries so I can completely unload my shopping cart)
• Empty parking spaces in the parking lots so I don’t have to drive around and around looking for a spot
• A garbage disposal in the kitchen sink
• Netflix! How I love this service…
• A library where I don’t have to pay to put a book on hold and where I can get any book in Chicagoland for free.
• Grandparents and cousins to call on the phone when my day is their day

There are also little things I actually miss about Australia that I didn’t realize I’d miss:

• Long-life milk. Why isn’t this an option in the USA? I loved storing a two weeks’ supply of milk in our pantry! Our fridge is so small, there is no space for a week’s supply of milk; I’m going to have to go to the store more than once a week after all…
• My husband not traveling. He goes to New York City starting next week. Over the past year, I really liked having him home. But he’s had more than a month of vacation, and while the job search is well underway, these things take time, of course. I guess I’d hoped the new job would jump out at him in that one month and I wouldn’t have to watch him get on a plane again….

Oh, wait. That husband thing isn’t a little thing: it’s a big thing.

Two weeks ago, we moved out of our Australian townhome and headed to the airport hotel. We stayed there one night, and then spent the next 24 hours flying. Paul was a great sport on the plane, and I’m forever grateful that the company bought us business class seats and Paul got his own.

Two weeks after moving from the other side of the globe, there are still insomnia-filled nights for me, but my internal clock is getting a little better. Paul is on a perfect schedule (8 p.m. to 8 a.m.) and I hope he stays that way! I’m loving the spacious parking lots, low prices at the supermarket, and wonderfully book-filled libraries.

Here are some highlights of what we’ve been doing.

• We stayed a week with my mom and dad. (But we were very busy getting set up so we didn’t see much of them!)
• I got a new mobile telephone that has a U.S. number, so people, you can call me again! (Email me at rebecca [at] reid-family [dot] org for the number if you want it.)
• We got a great deal on my new car. (And I love it!)
• I only drove on the wrong side of the road twice. (Unfortunately, both times were when I was test driving a car through a dealership, so it was kind of embarrassing.)
• We signed a six-month lease for an apartment, moved in, and unpacked. (Email me at rebecca [at] reid-family [dot] org for the address if you want it.)
• We’ve eaten out. A lot.
• We bought a used seven-piece solid wood bedroom set for the price of a brand new dresser. It includes a headboard and footboard, a long dresser, a mirror, an armoire, and two side tables.
• We bought Paul a dresser and a crib (still to be delivered).
• I bought myself a new comfy chair for Paul’s room (still to be delivered). (I sold mine in Australia in June and I was so very sad!)
• See Paul’s highlights here.

On the schedule for the coming days:

• Visit with family!
• Meet our new ward.
• Cook a real meal.
• Get my husband a new job.
• Buy a house (well, we have five months for this one).

About our apartment: It’s small. There are three bedrooms of adequate size, one of which is our study. But the kitchen is very small, the living room doesn’t fit our furniture, and the dining area is now divided into a play area as well. The carpet stinks. The walls are full of marks from previous renters (of course, it was repainted), but all that’s to be expected. It’s an apartment, not a palace.

This apartment won’t work for the long run, but it will work as a temporary spot while we begin serious house hunting. We’re going to be looking in the Crystal Lake area, but that location could change any day, I suppose.

Someday we’ll have a house!

Tags: moving day

We made it to the USA. And it feels good. There are a million things we missed.

One example from today: In the midst of a million errands, we stopped at a restaurant for a late lunch. Can I just say, I love the policy of tipping for better service?

• The waitress brought us our drinks in about 2 minutes. She even put the water I’d requested for my 11-month-old in a plastic cup with a lid.
• She came back when we were ready to order.
• She refilled our drinks almost instantly, which meant she was watching us to see when we were almost empty.
• She smiled at my son and acted like a human that was interested in whether we were having a pleasant time and enjoying our meal.
• She promptly brought us our meal.

In Australia, tipping is not expected. In fact, a few Australians told me very emphatically never to tip because they don’t want to ever be expected to tip.

The result of no tipping? Horrible dining-out experiences. For example, we went to dinner the night before we returned home. Just as today, I only saw one or two wait staff and it wasn’t very busy. However, our waitress that night seemed bothered when I hunted her down for everything we needed: we’re ready to order, more water please, I’d like a take home case, could I please have the check?. Eating out is more expensive in Australia, but there is no incentive to ever go back again: the service is so lousy. (We only ate out infrequently because it was so unpleasant and annoying. Not that we eat out frequently anyway, but still! When it’s a horrible experience, we’re not likely to repeat it soon.)

I will never complain again about the expectation to tip! It makes it so much better in the long run!

P.S. The bill today was significantly less than the bill in Australia, even with a generous tip and the dollar conversion rate.

Tags: restaurants

In the past six weeks since I stopped breastfeeding, I’ve gained all the weight I was supposed to have gained while pregnant, my complexion is suddenly shot, and I’m realizing that I look like a frumpy woman, in more ways than I can number.

I know, no sympathy, since I didn’t really gain anything while pregnant, etc. But it’s like the post-pregnancy depression didn’t come until I stopped breastfeeding, at a point when everyone expects me to know how to be a mother because, face it, my son is almost a year old.

I’m just realizing, as I said the other day, that I need to do a better job of making myself look like a real human being. I went on a nine-day vacation to New Zealand (which was wonderful), but every time I looked in the mirror, I grimaced. I’m in need of a Not-So-Frumpy Campaign right now.

That said, I keep thinking of things that I could do to feel like a cute newlywed again:

• Get a manicure or pedicure
• Get my hair done
• Buy new pjs that aren’t fraying or stained with maple syrup
• Buy new clothes (lots of them!)
• Have a spa treatment (I’ve never done this, but it sure sounds nice, doesn’t it?)
• Get a massage
• Buy a new book (because that always helps…)

Except everything costs money. Since I move across the globe this coming Saturday (!!!), I’m not going to have any spending money for a long while yet.

This is where you come in! Please tell me what I can do to feel cute again without spending a penny!

A few clarifications:

• I cannot for the life of me put nail polish on my own fingers. It doesn’t work. I feel very gross when I have clumpy nail polish.
• I can only wear earrings for a few hours before my ears ache. I think my ears are allergic. Instead, I have holes in my ears.
• I dry my hair on mornings that I have time, and that helps me not feel frumpy. But my hair dryer, which is also a straightener, has an Australian plug, so even that will cost money to replace once I get to the USA. (I burned out my USA one the first week down-under.) I know I could use a regular hair dryer, but those make my hair frizzy.
• I wear basic makeup. I won’t wear more than that.

Please note: I’m not asking for you to buy me things. I don’t want anyone else to buy me anything; I know what I like, etc. I just want your ideas for free cute-inspiring things.

Is everything that helps women feel cute costly?

Tags: being a mother, being positive, moving day

I just read Elder Hales’ talk in the August Ensign about modesty.

As I started reading, I thought, “Oh, this won’t apply to me, because I always dress modestly.” I don’t even wear knee-length skirts anymore (if I did, I wouldn’t be able to chase my crawling baby very easily!). Surely, I don’t need to read about modest apparel!

Then this paragraph stood out:

Tight pants, tight shirts, excessively baggy clothing, wrinkled apparel, and unkempt hair are not appropriate. … We should always be neat and clean, avoiding sloppiness or inappropriate casualness.

This hit me like a brick: how many times in the past ten months since my son has been born have I not ironed my shirt, not done my hair, not cared how sloppy I looked?

I used to iron my shirt when I went to work every day. I never iron my shirt anymore. I suppose I can use that fact that no one but an infant sees me as an excuse to be sloppy and unkempt. And there are always Those Days when we’re sick or my son didn’t sleep, etc. I suppose mothers can always find an excuse. But I was really intrigued by Elder Hales’ words:

Modesty is at the center of being pure and chase, both in thought and deed. … it reflects who we are and what we want to be, both here in mortality and in the eternities that will follow.

It seems to me, he’s saying modesty is not so much about making sure your skirt is long enough and your shirt isn’t showing off your navel. Modesty is a way of thinking: modesty is respect for your body.

How we fell on the inside shows on the outside. …

When we know who we are - children of God - and understand that our outward appearance affects our inward spirituality and ultimately our behavior, we show respect for God, for ourselves, and for those around us by being modest in dress and behavior.

I’m going to go comb my hair again. Apparently, that’s a part of putting on the whole armor of God.

Tags: modesty

Departure Pending

My husband’s boss has agreed to let him finish the project this month, as well as take two weeks’ vacation. We’re going to New Zealand in two weeks and returning to the USA at the end of the month. Hallelujah! It’s not that we don’t like it here; we’re just ready for the next stage. We’ve kind of been pulled back and forth since May. (I never thought I’d miss all of summer! We’re going from winter back in to autumn.)

Old Stuff

My husband has a shirt with a rip by the wrist. He wears it almost every week. I told him he needs to throw it out. Really, what will people think about me as his wife?! That I can’t keep my husband from being shabby? Then he pointed out that I keep my brown shoes.

My brown shoes were bought before my mission (in 2003). They were very nice for a few years, and I took pains to polish them regularly. However, polishing the shoes no longer does any good, as the leather has worn through. The company no longer makes that style, so I can’t replace them. They are very comfortable, so I still wear them nearly every day. I guess I never wondered what people think. They are just comfortable shoes to me.

Hmmm. Now I have a dilemma: My shoes or no more old shirt?

Medicinal Matters

My husband got ill for the third time in the 13 months we’ve been here. Of course, then both Paul and I got sick as well. My husband rarely gets ill in the USA. Why are there so many bugs here?

I’ve determined why: they don’t have proper medicine easily accessible. If you go to the supermarket, they have three small shelves. One the first row, every bottle says “All Natural Ingredients.” On the second and third rows, there is no such notice on the bottles. No matter, as soon as turn it over to look at the ingredients, you realize all three have Echinacea, Zinc, and Vitamin C. Nice things to take if you’re sick, but hardly a Cold and Flu remedy as the bottle proclaims. You’re still going to be coughing on your co-worker all week.

To get real medicine (the kind that actually suppresses your coughs, stops your nose from running, or makes your coughs productive; the kind with lots of chemicals in it), you have to go to the chemist (pharmacist), which might have them behind a special counter. You have to ask for them. And then it’s a very small bottle. If you want to have more, you must visit the doctor and get a prescription.

As for the doctors, General Practitioners are pretty useless. They should be call LPs, Limited Practitioners. Among other things, I was told I just had muscle cramps and it turned out to be gall stones. Yeah. GPs are worthless. (They are essentially free for Australian citizens under Medicare, so maybe socialized medicine is not such a good thing, huh?)

So why are there so many bugs in Australia, and why do we keep getting sick? When people get sick, they take natural ingredients, which do nothing to stop the sneezing and coughing. Bugs are spread, and more people get sick. That’s my philosophy.

If you like the natural route for medicine, you’d love Australia! That’s what it is. Personally, I like medicines that work when I’m ill.

Sniff.

Tags: Australia, moving day

Ever since Paul was born, I get comments and smiles and questions every time we go out:

• Oh, he’s so cute!
• What’s his name?
• How old is he?
• What a great smile!
• How many teeth does he have?
• etc., etc., etc.

I understand this. I read somewhere that people talk to pregnant women and mothers because everyone in a community is interested the next generation: the next generation influences the current generation. The entire community is therefore interested in what mothers do.

The other week, I realized that now that Paul’s getting older, soon, he’s start remembering that he’s smiling at strangers at the supermarket. When do I tell him to “never talk to strangers”? And where do we draw the line for “stranger”? For example, is the checkout girl a stranger? What if she’s new and we’ve never seen her before? What if there is a weird man in the line behind us? Do we still answer when the checkout girl asks us my son’s name and how old he is?

This may come across as paranoia. I don’t really think anything bad will come of telling the checkout girl my son’s name. But I’m seriously curious: when do we stop talking to strangers? Or, rather, when do we stop encouraging our kids to talk to or smile at strangers?

Tags: being a mother, growing up, my baby, paranoia