NORTORIOUS

11/13/13

Wedding Pictures

Before:

Wedding prettiness:

Bride:

Groom:

Family Before:

Silas 3.5, Mimi 6.5, Jude 5, Mama 19.

The ceremony. The children ran inside to get us. We walked out to Moonlight Mile by the Rolling Stones.

Boys brought up the rings.

Mimi couldn’t bear it a second longer and ran to hug us.

The boys followed suit.

And the celebration began as ‘Oh What a Night’ by the Four Seasons blared.

This is what my happy family looks like:

A sincere thank you to all of you who helped, attended, supported, and were overall generous with your love during this most perfect day.

11/11/13

I’m in charge of my book club this week and my lovely compatriots have agreed to read what some call my flagship book: Female Chauvinist Pigs by Ariel Levy. I’ve read the book many times because I frequently teach it in my sophomore writing composition courses. This week I’ve been reading that and cleaning my house listening to LDS Conference talks. Cause, you know, I’m super holy and stuff.

I believe there is a great void in the LDS church’s vocalized position on pornography: church leaders say porn is bad bad bad, but they don’t explain WHY pornography is so awful sufficiently to actually deter or to bitter the very image of it for men (and women). I agree that pornography is addictive and that has repercussions for sexuality yada yada, but those “reasons” do not create revulsion enough to find pornography the opposite of titillating. As a mother of young boys it’s my job to figure out how to raise men who are repelled by pornography. Thankfully I married the most wonderful feminist man and I don’t have to deal with this in my marriage and he will be an excellent asset in steering them away from porn.

Around 2003 pornography and Raunch Culture was in full swing and I was living in it’s hedonistic capital. “The Girls Next Door” were literally next door to my college. Britney’s pants were low. Paris and Kim Kardashian built empires on Raunch Culture. T&A was everywhere and it was cool to be fine with it. The LDS church had just become very public about their anti-pornography crusade. Remember those days? I will not go so far as to say I was interested in pornography, but the culture was in my face. Find me a woman of my generation who does not know at least one of the names of Hefner’s three girlfriends. We didn’t participate in it, but I think many of us were exposed nonetheless. Sex and celebrity are a match made in . . . well certainly not heaven. That pairing will probably never go away (Hi Miley!) and neither will pornography ever vanish from culture. So we need a new thought framework.

I resensitized myself to Raunch Culture (that is to say I pointedly developed disgust rather than just ambivalence) by thinking deeply about these things.

1. Robin Morgan coined the slogan, “Pornography is the theory, rape is the practice.” Extreme, no? Porn is going to turn you into a rapist? No. Let me explain. Susan Brownmiller, pioneer of the Women’s Liberation Movement wrote a book in 1975 called “Against Our Will: Men, Women and Rape”. The main argument in the book is that rape is not an isolated crime like robbery or murder, but a systematic process of demoralization: of making real live women into less than human. Hence, rape is a tool used in war in order to subjugate societies. How do you convince people that humans aren’t humans and can therefore be physically abused? Propaganda. What is rape propaganda? Pornography. That slogan blares in my mind every time I see images that even hint of porn. Pornography is the theory – it is the propaganda that helps stupid people to forget for a moment that sex is about people, not just bodies. Also, how can you think about propaganda images without thinking about the systematic dehumanizing of the jews? Brownmiller argued that pornography is to women what those horrible “this is what a Jew looks like” posters were to Jews. How’s that for a turn off?

2. Passion isn’t the point. Pornography is not real sex and if it is your model, you’re probably having terrible sex. There is a disconnect between sexiness and sex itself and the people in pornography are feigning enjoyment. “Sexuality is inherent. Different things are attractive to different people yet somehow we have accepted one brand of sexuality” and it’s getting boring. Next time you see some scintillating picture think of porn queen Jenna Jameson who said of her shoots, “ I had to arch so hard that my lower back cramped. When I see those photos now, it seems obvious that the sexy pout I thought I was giving the camera was just a poorly disguised grimace of pain.”

3. The sex industry is in large part fueled by Human Trafficking. Those hot girls you’re watching? A significant amount of them are forced participants. The ones who aren’t are often victims of sexual abuse. Who wants to watch abused women? If consuming pornography in any way encourages human slavery thanks, but that is simply repulsive.

I disdain pornography because pornography is socially irresponsible. Hopefully I can teach my boys social responsibility and by default cause them to be sicked out by pornography.

Also of note -- A young LDS woman tells of her battle with a pornography addiction:

http://thesecondbreakfastblog.blogspot.com/2013/10/the-personal-story-of-one-girls.html?spref=fb

Also, citing my source: lots of this is paraphrasing Ariel Levy, if not directly quoting. Good job writing that book, Ariel.

11/3/13

The Pure Love

Mimi threw a huge tantrum the other day. She and I were at each other’s throats and driving one another crazy, as is the way with mothers and daughters sometimes. Hush witnessed the whole debacle as she pushed every one of my buttons the way a child can, and even lobbed some nastiness his direction.

When Hush and I first started talking to one another I told him I had no interest in getting married again, ever. As a teacher I know that it’s possible to love other people’s children but unless they are family it’s well nigh impossible to tolerate children permanently. As a single parent I know what it feels like to be continually on duty. When you have children you quickly learn that they are your responsibility 100% of the time, whether they’re with a babysitter or a family member is watching them they are still doing you a favor to relieve you of them for any length of time. I gave birth to those kids and I only feel guilt free when they are with their father or with me. And they are rarely with their father.

I got used to having the kids all by myself with help from family. I have pretty great children, but their closeness in age makes taking care of them en masse difficult for me, let alone any one else. My sisters and parents could do it for a few hours at a time but it is unquestionably hard. I got through that time by being an uncomfortable “taker” when it came to Charitable service given by my family. I felt very much like a weight rather than a buoy and it was an extraordinarily humbling experience. Nevertheless, I’d established a routine and made a life for me and my children in Dville. In reflection, I see quite clearly the charity bestowed upon me and my children by God: twin five year old girls a few houses down for Mimi to play with, a house on a cul-de-sac where the children were safe, parents who could help out when money was tentative, a primary where we were able to maintain community and structure, my sister close enough to carpool to preschool, my family to watch kids at a moment’s notice when I was called in to substitute, an ex-husband who never once fought with me over the children thereby giving them the gift of a peaceful consistent single bed life. These services are miraculous to me and taught me a lot about how charitable God can be while the weight of the world was seemingly on my shoulders.

I didn’t need a husband. But being at home every night alone from 7:30 pm onward becomes tedious and very lonely.

My children, I thought, had pretty much everything they needed and didn’t need a dad in their home. They had plenty of positive male role models and only had one parent to contend with as far as discipline. I had zero interest in allowing someone to get to know my children and tolerate them in any way – knowing as I do that other people’s children are a novelty for a while, but eventually are just plain annoying. I did not want to have to be so high strung and worried that my kids are being difficult to manage.

I remember some of the earliest conversations I had with Hush as being a reward for a day completed. Hush knew that I had children but I had sworn up and down that I was only interested in being entertained while I was (willingly, gratefully) trapped in my house by sweetly sleeping children. I looked forward to speaking with him because our lives were so different and he was such an interesting person.

Months passed and I somewhat blindly moved to Salt Lake City, trusting that the blaringly loud prompting for God in my ear was legit. Hush lived there, but I figured when he learned the real measure of what me and three kids looked like he would gracefully tap out. I was planning not to fault him for that.

In the months that passed I watched a massive transformation. Hush had never been married and had no children. He has plenty of nieces and nephews, but for all intents and purposes he was a single dude. Children are by nature selfish unreasonable little beasties, and Hush is a man of control, thought and reason. He wasn’t there to wake up with them in the night when they were infants. They aren’t his little carbon copies. They’re children and sympathetic by default (and because of their attractiveness) but they’re also children and hard by default.

The magic happened through one attribute: Charity. In my plan to avoid forcing a man into my children’s lives I neglected to account for the power of service and charity. Hush was around the four of us and we needed a lot of help. Silas can’t get himself drinks. Jude needs his shoes tied. I need an evening respite from my life of kids. Hush already loved me, but I was privileged to watch as his service became pure love for my children. He taught them to rock climb, he ate dinner with us, he unflinchingly threw himself into a life of service. And charitable service is how Hush became a parent.

Last week Mimi needed an adult with more patience than I had at the moment.

Epic as Mimi’s tantrum was, Hush stepped around me and into the room where she was screaming and crying. My breath caught: was he going to get in her face and tell her how naughty she was being? What could this guy do to help the situation that not even I could get a handle on? I squeezed my eyes closed in frustration.

In a moment the shrieking stopped. I opened my eyes to see my little daughter cradled in Hush’s arms as he spoke soothingly to her calming her down.

And this is the greatest gift that God has given us thus far: a man with a charitable heart.

(ps. this message has not been approved by Hush. He says I need to stop writing about him because he is a tough badass who has NO soft spots for anything or anybody.)

10/22/13

San Francisco Three Ways

San Francisco has been my family’s home for five generations. My great grandparents lived through the 1906 7.8 earthquake and I rock and rolled with the 1989 7.1 earthquake during the World Series. Today I do San Francisco three different ways.

1. With Pam

SF with Pam means going to see a Broadway show. Many shows that end up on Broadway are produced in San Francisco and if they’re good enough make it to the Great White Way.

My first time over the newly completed Bay Bridge. It’s weird and great!

My parents have season tickets and usually go together, but my dad had to bail at the last second and I got his amazing ticket. The good thing about going to shows with a seasoned theater patron is that a) she doesn’t see crap and b) she won’t go unless the seats are great. The musical we saw was the Carole King musical “Beautiful.”

Review: Imagine growing up in the Greenbaum household. When mom is going dishes she is listening either to musicals OR to her favorite 1960’s bands: Aretha Franklin, Creedence Clearwater Revival, Johnny Cash and Carole King. We all know every word to Carole King’s Tapestry by osmosis. It was part of the soundtrack of my childhood.

Now put Carole King and Broadway together.

It was so good I almost cried. Unbeknownst to me because I knew the music and not the history, Carole King was one of the most prolific song writers of the time. Before she did her singer/songwriter act we for which she is most famous, she wrote about half of all the Motown songs you know with her jerky husband Gerry Goffin and their other writing partners. One Fine Day, Some Kind of Wonderful, Up on the Roof, Locomotion, I’m into Something Good – all written by Carole King. Not to mention all the songs on Tapestry, many of which were made popular by Motown groups long before she sang them soulfully.

Halfway through my mom turns to me and asks, “Do you know this song?” “Yes, mother. I know every word to every song and I am doing everything in my power to control myself from singing and dancing.” Ugh, it was so so good! Now you must go listen to her. Here:

2. With Jim

San Francisco with Jim means looking for 1960’s history and going to Golden Gate Park or another family friendly activity. We went to the fantastic playground in the middle of the park on the most beautiful day I’ve ever seen in San Francisco. 80 degrees and no wind. Glorious.

In the park we found Jim’s alternative lifestyle option: hippies living out of their VW van.

We went to Stow Lake to paddle around. Mimi is showing you where it is. Go there with little kids, it’s fun.

Jim sprung for the motorized boat which subsequently quit working. Jude had to peddle us around.

3. With My Man

Hush has been to SF a few times, but only once with me. My children were with Houdini and at Celia’s house so we had the day to ourselves. I’m slowly introducing him to my favorite haunts. We started in Chinatown and then headed over to the DeYoung museum. On our way there we happened upon the Full House House. I thought I was the biggest Full House fan in the world until I met my match in Hush. He unabashedly refers to episodes of the best show ever and even knows their stupid neighbor Kimmy’s last name. Gibbler.

Oh, I forgot to mention. Hush and I went on a quick honeymoon to Park City and while we were there I turned on the TV and guess who was on. Uncle Jesse. Not just Uncle Jesse, but it was the Uncle Jesse and the Rippers episode where Jesse fails at learning to dance. It was like God telling me that he wants me to have everything in the world: Hush AND Uncle Jesse. I don’t have to choose. Jesse comes along on our trips. Full House follows me and I love it.

Have Mercy.

Next a quick hike through Golden Gate Park during which I recounted memories of field trips there in my youth and my memorable 13th birthday party at the Laserium watching the Pink Floyd laser show. We were made for each other.

Then the DeYoung. I love this museum and it was fun to get recharged creatively together with my sweet husband. Every creative idea I have he supports and encourages, it’s my particular kind of heaven.

We were especially taken with an installation called Anti-Mass by Cornelia Parker. It’s the charcoal remains of a Baptist Chapel burned by arsons.

San Francisco is an inspiring city burgeoning with culture that I didn’t know I missed. Shows, Chinatown, Stow Lake, curious art installations all provoke me into wanting to contribute to the culture of the world. The blog suffices for now, but I think this marriage will yield more creativity than I’d even hoped.

The Mothership

I returned to the Mothership last week for a visit. Apparently Utah has some bizarre vacation in the middle of October – Fall Break they call it or UEA. I asked Hush about it and he told me it is scheduled to coincide with Huntin’ season. What the what? School is closed for HUNTING? You gotta be kidding me. I hereby request school also be closed for I Feel Like Going to Hawaii Week and TV Show Finale Week, AND on Shakespeare’s birthday since we’re making up holidays.

Anyway, home again home again jiggity jig. I love visiting Dville. More than I love visiting Dville, I love staying with my parents. Why do people bitch and moan about living with their parents? It’s paradise there! Upon arrival I am fed warm chocolate chip cookies and my children are lifted into warm beds. The kids wake up my parents instead of me in the morning, and then hit them up for breakfast and games games games. It’s positively blissful! No place is quite the vacation as going to the Mothership. Food and service is love there (and nobody hugs me! Yay!) Who among you does not revert into near teenage mode when staying with your mother?

Games with Grandma Pam, the best grandma ever. They played average 2 hours of games with her every day.

The other day Hush polled the children about what I like to to do for fun. Jude said earnestly, “Clean up after us” and Mimi said, “Buy us things and make us food.”

Hush brightened and said, “Great! Tonight YOU guys will do all the fun things and we will lay on the couch.” It was an epic scene of shock and complaints, but it resulted in a mopped kitchen floor.

Sadly, my mother is not so lucky. I show up and pretty much expect exactly what Jude and Mimi expect: feed me and take care of my responsibilities, please! But I do bring her grandchildren who adore her, so I’ll just keep telling myself it’s payment in children rendered.

Have I mentioned recently how grateful I am to have a huge family? I miss them all and am so grateful for everything my family has taught me about parenting. What extraordinary examples of capable efficient child rearing I have at the touch of a send button. As much as I am out here in the wilderness with my fledgling little family I know my coven is fighting the good fight every night at chaotic dinner times with their families.

But not me last week. I was on a dreamy vacation from cooking, cleaning and tending. Thanks parents and sisters who took my kids! Ready to get back in the saddle once more.

Bonneville Salt Flats are indeed made of salt. We licked them.

Mimi and Teddy (nearly 2). Phil’s kid. Phil photobomb. We went early for Max’s farewell. Celia’s eldest went on a mission to Tallahassee for two years. It was quite the event for Celia.

At the farewell all the primary kids were asked to come sing “I hope they call me on a mission.” All of our kids went up there too, even though they didn’t know the song. Who cares? Go up there and mouth it.

Another event, another set of coordinating outfits. Except Mimi because we were surprise guests and didn’t get the memo.

Cousin gang

The great thing about having me for an auntie is that I’ll dye your hair any color you want, with or without permission. This time there was permission granted.