Can a woman make more than her husband?

A discussion came up in Bill's Finance class this evening. One of the guys on his learning team mentioned that he would have a problem if his wife made more money than he did. At that point, EVERYONE in the class, including the teacher said he was an idiot. GO class! Did this guy grow up in the dark ages? Do we have to guess that his wife stays home? I'm sure she is barefoot and pregnant too.

I don't know, do men really need to make more money to fulfill their role in society? Traditionally they are the bread winners. In the Church, it is the man's duty to provide for the family. But what about all those valuable women out there that have something to contribute to the working world? Do we really have to go back to the ERA days? There was good and bad that came out of the ERA but there is no doubt that there should be equal pay for equal work.

Some dads are happy staying home and some moms are happy working. But it doesn't have to be black and white. If it works out for your family can't we have it all, or am I being selfish? I know that sacrifices are made when both parents work, or when one parent stays home. Finances differ and time with each other differs. I don't think there is a right or wrong way. I don't think that what is right for me is right for you. I don't even think that what is right for our family this year will be right for us next year. You do what you need to do. Personally, if I hadn't started tutoring when Kyra was 1 I would have gone crazy. I needed to use my skills on someone other than her.

But back to the wife making more money. Bill's teacher went as far as to tell the guy that it was an ego thing. (which he, of course, denied) I think he's right and I hope the guy survives in the real world beyond school. I am thankful every day that Bill is so dedicated to our family that he goes to his job every day. Sadly, I know there are men that don't, they can't support their families, and they choose to let other people take care of their loved ones. I could probably do pretty well if I worked full time. I can charge more per hour than Bill but I just don't have the energy to dig up the clients and work that much. Last summer Bill called me his "Sugar Mama" after we added up all the hours and billed it out. I guess he doesn't have an ego problem, he's man enough to take it.

My mom is hard of hearing

Really. She is and she knows it. She wears hearing aids. She nods and smiles at you when she can't understand what you are saying and she has asked you to repeat yourself too many times. When I hug her, sometimes her "ears" squeak and it brings back memories of my grandfather who had the same problem. Aaah, the memories. When I was little my grandfather would come to visit us and my friends would sometimes make him crazy. I knew when that was because he would reach up to his ear and turn us off so he couldn't hear the squealing any more. That was funny. My mom can't turn me off yet so I just talk louder to her, but I don't whisper to her in church anymore because she just smiles and nods! This awareness has come slowly for me, over the years but my kids have always known it. Tasha seems to be acutely aware because this is the phone conversation I overheard her having with "Momo". OK, by conversation I mean Tasha was talking into her calculator which she pretends is her cell phone. She does this mostly in the van, just like her mom! So here is the one-sided conversation with breaks where she paused for Momo's response...

T: Hi Momo.
T: We are going to lunch with dad.
T: Yes, I have preschool after lunch.
T: Did you know I have moon earrings on?
T: No, moon earrings.
T: No Momo, moons.
T: MOOOOOOOOOn.
T: You know, moon, like in the sky.
T: Yes, that's it.

I have no idea what she said after that because I was laughing so hard. Tasha caught wind of my laughter and had to end her phone call. She didn't think it was that funny. I suppose I wouldn't have either if it had been a real phone call. I love you mom!

To range free, or not

WARNING: The article you are about to read is full of sarcasm...don't let it peck you on the butt!

So I'm having Thanksgiving at my house this year and I wanted to get a fresh range-free turkey. It seemed like a good idea and I know that Sunflower market had them advertised last year. Now I have second thoughts. I was talking with a friend this evening, confirming that a 15 pound bird should sufficiently feed 11 people, especially when 2 of them are vegetarians and kids could really care less. (Is the rule on turkey the same as other meat? Plan for 1/2 a pound per person?) Anyway, she said she bought the free range critter out of respect for an in-law who ate mostly organically. So we discussed this briefly when she said, "ya, he was a happy turkey before they killed him so we could eat him." Of course, we laughed hysterically at the thought of such an absurd statement. But really...maybe those caged babies aren't so bad. We put them out of their misery and now their spirits can roam free in turkey heaven. The free range birds will be discussing how they really miss Tom Jr. and hope he's doing OK, next year will really be a shock for him...while the caged ones are really roaming free. I know, I know, I'm making light of a animal rights and shouldn't. I'm sure when I run for office my opponents will find this blog and quote me word for word. I think I'll just let my mom buy the turkey and live in ignorant bliss.

Then comes the next question (because the turkey does come before the egg)...Have you tried to by eggs lately? How many labels CAN you have on a dozen eggs?! First are all the sizes: medium, large, extra large, jumbo. Then you have the colors: white,brown, speckled. Now the chicken: cage-free, free roaming, caged, surfing, driven crazy. And what kind of food the chicken ate: organic, non-organic, grain, non-grain, fattening, iron fortified. And don't forget the Omega 3 boost! Yikes! When did buying eggs get so difficult? And when did we decide to start labeling all our eggs and chickens? Maybe it was when we stopped labeling our children. Ironically, it was probably the granola parents who refuse to label their kids that want to know what the heck their chicken was doing and eating before it pooped out the egg that they are about to eat.

Seriously though, I LOVE my granola friends and even want to be one someday. I also wish that nobody started caging animals so they could make more money. I guess I just lost the meat industries vote! Happy Turkey day!

Is summer really over?!

My computer says that it is 66 degrees outside. I'm sitting by the open door with the fan blowing overhead. The breeze feels nice and I did get a chill a moment ago. Enough of a chill that I went and put socks on, well those ankle things that just keep your toes snugly warm. I still won't consider long sleeves and I'll probably never put away the capri pants. I was hot standing out at 2pm this afternoon, but chilly at 7pm. Is this what it's like in other parts of the country during, say, September?! WOW! What would that be like? Oh well, maybe I'll go make a cup of hot cocoa and top it with some whip cream that we bought for the pumpkin pie!

Clean again

I went to the Temple tonight and did Baptisms. I came out of there feeling really "clean". So here I am, fresh out of the water and non-corrupted. Don't tempt me and lure me to the other side. Stop talking of "fookies" and Grey's Anatomy. I've given it all up for the better good. Bill even tried to record Grey's for me and somehow the cable box was turned off! Hmmm, if that isn't some divine intervention, I don't know what is. So, all 2 of you that read my blog...I'm a goodie-goodie now, so BACK OFF!

Do I really hate poetry?

I was just talking to a mom at school who's daughter totally missed all the comprehension questions related to a poem. I immediately said, "I'm with her, I hate poetry". Then, of course, on the drive home I realized that I just wrote a poem last night. So do I really hate poetry, or do I just hate to analyze it? I think the answer has many points...

First there was Sr. year, High School Humanities course. HATED IT! I was always wrong! The teacher made me feel like an idiot and I never had the right answers. OK, I passed the class so obviously I knew something, but to this day that class and teacher still haunt me. Maybe that's when it started.

Next. Most of the time poetry has to rhyme. Haikus are fine, mostly because they are short and have a syllable restraint. They make it challenging to cram an idea into 5-7 beats, fun. I did write something in college that didn't really have a plan to it, but that was mostly because I was sick of writing papers. My professor "got it" and I felt better for being creative instead of the typical analysis of yet another child.

Finally, music is poetic so poetry should be musical. If there is no flow to it then it is really lame. If you have to think to hard to understand it, then it is lame. If there is not an underlying theme that is repeated then it is probably lame. If I say lame again, then I am really lame.
So I guess the bottom line is this:

Do not analyze

I do not hate poetry

Short, simple, concise!

An ode to Bill...

Twas the night before Thursday, Bill was asleep like a log

So was everyone else, except for the dog.

I had gotten home late from a meeting at school,

But that was OK, everything seemed cool.

Bill woke up early this morning, drove to work in the dark.

Just like every day, with a wag, not a bark.

He got off at 2, came home for a shower,

Then off to get Tasha with his dad super power!

After school and work, I called to say we'd be late.

Could he please start the dinner? Would he fall for the bait?

Tacos and beans and a bowl full of rice?!

How lucky am I? Someone give me some dice!

I ate a fabulous dinner , then rushed out the door.

I'd be late for the meeting, but heck, what's one more?

I was stuck at every light so of course I called home

Bill was washing the dishes, (and polishing the chrome?!)

I was gone for hours, chit-chatting with moms,

What would I find at home, Bill reading the Psalms?

The kitchen was clean, no dishes were out,

He'd cleaned out the sink, without even a pout.

What a fabulous day, it couldn't be beat!
If it happens more often, mom will be obsolete.

I don't know what I did on this day to deserve it,

But man do I hope there's a list to reserve it.

So for that wonderful man that I rag on too often,

Here's an ode to you...before you're in the coffin.

That was terrible to say but it was a funny rhyme

But I laugh at your jokes, well, most of the time!