"Once you've been tagged, you are supposed to write a note with 16 random things, facts, habits or goals about you. At the end choose 16 people to be tagged, including the person who tagged you."
Faye did a wonderfully thorough job of responding to this challenge and tagged me in her note, so I thought I'd give it a go. I really enjoyed reading hers, so I've tried to convince myself that someone will find mine interesting, even though I generally find myself feeling that I can never be anything but deeply uninteresting to most people. I also had trouble trying to think of 16 things about myself that I was willing to share with the world (or the small circle of folks who read my blog, anyway), that everyone doesn't already know. Which leads me to. . . .
1). I'm not good at sharing myself. I like to tell funny stories about my life or things that happened to my friends/family members, but I am loathe to share anything meaningful beyond that. Most people have found my blog to be far more open and emotional than I am in person. It is. Part of the reason I write it is as a form of mini-therapy for myself. For years I have actively fought my natural tendency toward extreme introversion and crippling shyness, with many victories evident (such as living more than 1,000 miles outside my comfort zone and the people with whom I feel the most at home, as well as being able to carry on a one-on-one conversation with someone I've known less than a year). However, it is still a very difficult challenge for me, which is why I generally refuse to reread my own posts--half the time just initially posting them makes me a bit queasy, but I can move on and more or less forget about it. If I go back and reread them I start to get ill: "I posted that up here? For anyone to read? What on earth was I thinking?! Pass the Pepto."
2). In a somewhat related line, I have the Keilana syndrome. People who don't know me well think I'm quiet, while those who do wish I was:) With my husband, Sam, my mom, most of my closer girlfriends, I can be an inexhaustible chatter box. It is particularly bad when I'm with my mom, since I see her so seldom I guess I feel like I've got to get everything out at once so I don't miss anything. Even so, those who know me best and spend the most time around me see me tend to swing to extremes--I am either full of conversation and can't seem to shut up even if its obvious that they're not interested in talking, or I have nothing to say at all. I sometimes will go hours or days without saying hardly a thing and will barely notice that I haven't spoken to anyone. I can spend days having conversations with myself in my mind, and not really need to interact with other people.
3). Which leads to the fact that I am almost never lonely. Before being married and having kids, although I had many friends and a big family, I spent a good deal of my time intentionally alone. Part of this was due, of course, to the circumstances of the time, wherein I had a difficult time relating to many people on the things that were of the most importance to me, but more of it was due to the fact that I like to just sit or walk alone, to be surrounded by stillness--no chattering crowds or busy activities. Just me and my thoughts, or perhaps a notebook and pen. I still often feel quite anxious and on edge in large crowds, particularly of people I don't know well, and after an evening or week of heavy socializing I often have to retreat to near hermit status for a time to feel balanced again, even if I very much enjoyed the socializing. I have sometimes wondered if I'm a little off my rocker as I have listened to friends talk about how lonely they are when their husbands aren't home. When Doug is gone, I miss him terribly, but I don't necessarily feel lonely. I am grateful to have married a man who also treasures his solitude and so does not misunderstand how I feel as a reflection of my feelings for him. We enjoy our time together more than most couples I know, but we are both very independent spirits who need space to ourselves and understand and love that about each other.
4). I love corduroy. Seriously--corduroy pants, coats, stuffed animals, quilts, jumpers. Love it. I think there may have been some indoctrination from my mom on this point, though my memory is too hazy to say for sure. First of all, one of my favorite books since I was small child is Corduroy. I know this had something to do with my mom--it is one of her favorites and so it was read to me often. One of the only items of clothing that I clearly remember my mom making for me when I was little was a pink corduroy jumper (and yes, I loved it and wore it all the time). I have noticed when shopping for baby/child clothing with my mother that she is often drawn to corduroy jumpers for little girls. Perhaps its a gene. I also think that maybe it has something to do with the fact that I was a youngest child and so when I first started to get a sense of "cool", it was the mid 90s and many of the older kids I knew (siblings and friends of siblings) were in to grunge. Hard to say if this was an influencing factor or not, as I have retained somewhat of a fondness for skate shoes, but no such overt love in my heart for flannel shirts.
5). That reminds me of another one. One of my friends once gave me a splendid compliment when he said, "You're a great person to buy presents for, because you're just like Corduroy. Whatever you get is just what you've always wanted." I have pretty simple tastes and am pretty easy to please. I am picky about very few things. My husband both loves and detests this quality about me. My wants are simple and few, so if we do have a bit of extra money to play around with, I very honestly don't care if he uses it to get new tools or a new toy. On the other hand, being non-particular makes it nearly impossible for me to make simple decisions. What do you want to eat? What movie would you like to see? The purple one or the green one? I just don't care enough to make a decision, making simple tasks take much longer than they should. And the few things about which I am picky, I am crazy anal. Like. . . .
6). Cleanliness and order. Clutter and uncleanliness make it difficult for me to focus and make me very, very grumpy. On a day to day basis I keep my house quite tidy, and then clean blinds, windows, doors, baseboards, walls, etc. on a fairly regular basis. Doug has a very bright but often disorganized mind--he is like the classic ADD kid. His desk (and dresser and kitchen counter and work room) is constantly a pile of papers, receipts, disks, etc. I try to keep these piles as neatly stacked and organized as possible, but they make me crazy. Right now our carpet needs to be cleaned and some boxes in our dining room need to be put away, so no matter how clean I scrub the rest of the house, I always feel like its filthy and it makes me grumpy. I had to rewash all the baby clothes that I will be reusing, even though they had been washed, put away in tight plastic containers and not touched in between uses. If a dish is once used to feed an animal, I cannot ever again serve food to a human being from it, no matter how many times/to what degree it has been washed and sterilized. I am not OCD, but I do need my own space to be clean and organized to feel relaxed.
7). I love having my hair brushed or played with. This may very well be in the genes, as it is a well known fact that one of my grandma's favorite things was having her grandkids stand behind her on the couch and brush her short grey curls. While the indelicate nature of my 4-year-old doesn't lend itself particularly well to this activity (though I let her "fix" my hair all the time anyway--she loves it and I am not what could be in any way classified as "tender-headed"), when someone isn't ripping the brush through my hair, it is very relaxing and pleasant to me to have my hair brushed or braided.
8). I tend to internalize other people's emotions and thus am often overwhelmed by heavy emotional conflicts. I have always been non-confrontational to a fault by nature. I am passive aggressive, but more often than not simply passive. I have always had trouble walking away from someone who was hurting or angry or upset, because knowing or sensing they felt that way was very emotionally upsetting to me. I had to do something. When a conflict breaks out, I can almost always understand the emotions and reasons of individuals on either side, but am too wrapped up in their emotions to be a good arbiter while emotions are still running high. In the past, this usually meant a good deal of my time spent listening to/comforting each individual after the disagreement and quietly trying to help them understand the other person's feelings without excusing their hurtful behavior. Since having children, I have discovered that this has been. . .well, not replaced but more shoved aside by a mother bear instinct. My primary concern in the moment is to shield my children from the conflict and to hell with how anyone else feels until that goal has been met. My kids, who rarely see any conflict at home, are very upset by adults yelling at each other. In our house, the words, "Shut up!" are bad words--if Keilana hears them she is likely to cry and Dylan will either cry or resort to that quiet, angry grimace he has so perfected. When they yell at each other, they have to sit in separate spaces until they calm down and can "hug it out". I do not like open conflict, but I also despise vicious passive aggression (my particular weakness), so I am determined to teach my children healthy, productive confrontation and to have something better than screaming matches or hurtful sarcasm modeled to them.
9). With a few rare exceptions, I hate the phone. I would much prefer an email, text message, or to drop in. I like talking to my mom and mother-in-law and Doug on the phone, but other than that it always feels like more of a chore. Being a grown up tends to mean having to make a lot of phone calls, and this is especially true of my calling in Young Women, for which I am frequently on the phone. I'm not sure where this aversion came from, but I have always found the phone to be an awkward tool for me, personally. That's probably why I like the phone I have now so much. . . .it has so many useful tools besides the actual phone part.
10). I love feeling like I'm in cocoon. This is why I love the cold so much. Its not as much about being out in the cold and snow and freezing ice (though I love that too) as it is the wonderful feeling of being protected from it in a cozy little room. I love to watch the snow fall outside and know how bitterly cold it is and be sitting in a warm house, preferably wearing a sweater and wool socks while sipping hot chocolate or cider and baking bread or cookies. Its just hard to imagine anything more delightful than the warmth of home, the smell of a wood fire and fresh baked anything, and the coziness of sweaters and socks. I love to feel snug. And if I have someone to snuggle with under a cozy homemade quilt, so much the better.
11). I never really wanted a career. This was a hard thing for many of my friends to accept, as I talked about many different careers that I thought would be fun: doctor, teacher, anthropologist, counselor, wildlife biologist, physical therapist, etc. And I really do think I would enjoy and be decent at any one of those--I think they'd be a great way to spend my time if I had to make a career. But I have never, at any point in my life that I can remember, desired to do anything other than be a wife and mother. People tell me that I'll be bored once my children are all in school/grown. I have a hard time believing that. First of all, I will have at least 3 children, and plan on a few more than that, so even if they're all at school I imagine there will always be a huge list of things to get done during the day while they're gone--I will simply be able to check items off the list more efficiently than if they were home. But if they're gone and I have more time to read, more time to delve into writing or researching the huge and bizarrely random list of things-I'd-like-to-learn-more-about, great. Once my children have all grown, they'll start having children of their own, and I'll get to be Grandma. What could be greater than having a grandma who could and would take you pretty much any time because her schedule wasn't tied down to a traditional career? I think nothing is more important than the marriage and family you build--the rest is just details. I feel fulfilled and happy, so why on earth do I need to get a job and make my life busier?
12). I have very, very little patience for people who equate being immature with being youthful and can be quite judgmental and rude to said people. Now, does immaturity tend to go hand in hand with youth? Of course, but one is not necessarily "youthful" because one behaves in a selfish and/or immature manner. And of course, someone can be very mature and still very youthful. If you're 30 and people always think--not because you have a baby face but rather because of your attitude or behavior--that you're 22, that is not a compliment. And my own immaturity is revealed in this particular circumstance by my woeful impatience with such individuals. If I ever say, "Wow, I would've guessed you were younger than that", unless its a specific reference to your looks or the age of your children, what I'm probably actually thinking is, "Wow, you sure know how to make an ass of yourself."
13). Despite all the rambling just now, and the aversion to crowds and prolonged socializing mentioned above, I love people. I can count on one hand the number of people I don't like, and even that is more of a passing its-irritating-when-I-have-to-deal-with-this-person feeling than an active dislike. I have rarely met anyone that I couldn't find something to like about and am constantly amazed and gratified by the wonderfulness (is that a word? if it isn't, it should be) of the people around me. People I work with, people in my ward, family members (biological, step and in-law), other moms, dads, grandparents that I meet at the park. I am so impressed by the wonderful diversity of personalities and talents that abound on a daily basis and admire so much about most of the people I know. It would be easy for me to sit and list 100 different people I know and why I love them. Perhaps that will be my Thanksgiving ritual this year. . . . .
14). For all my faults, I rarely covet or envy anything. I love to look at fancy cameras and dream of all the amazing photographs that I could take with one, but feel no bitterness or frustration when I look at the price tag. I love to look at house plans and dream about what I would do with such a home, how I would furnish and decorate it, etc, but am content when I consider the possibility of always having a small home with a little yard and hardly any decor on the walls, so long as its filled with a happy family. I love to look at toys and imagine all the wonderful things I could buy my children and the wonderful play spaces I could create for them, but then wonder if I would spend less time interacting with them myself if they had more stuff. I am not socially ambitious--I don't think there's even a gene in me for that, as far as I can tell--and I can count up the number of times in my life I've ever been truly jealous of anyone. The things I have been jealous of have without fail been emotional connections I wish I had, but those needs more than any other are met by the Gospel, and so that jealousy has generally been short-lived (though intense). I am not terribly competitive, and so I rarely have ever felt like I was behind, which has saved me a lot of frustration in life.
15). That may be one of my virtues, but I am about to share a major vice, so it balances out, right? I tend to take someone's feelings--emotional or physical--much less seriously the more dramatic or theatrical they are about them. For example, when my husband gets a flu that affects his whole body, there is are kinds of horrible facial contortions involved when he has to get up to perform a simple task like get a drink or walk to the bathroom. There is much moaning and groaning every time he coughs, rolls over or is forced to lift his head. My natural tendency toward compassion is oddly diminished by demonstrative behavior--I am inclined to snarkily mutter, "Drama queen" and think to myself "It can't possibly be that bad," even though I know just how miserable the same type of thing is. Now, I use Doug as an example because I trust that if he reads this, he'll forgive me. But this is true of nearly everyone I interact with--overdone screaming because of physical pain or seemingly overwraught emotions make it hard for me to take people seriously. Isn't that terrible? This is because I forget that not everyone is:
16). Emotionally repressed. Hahaaahaha. I am, of course, a very, very emotional person, but I tend to keep my emotions (aside from happy or irritated) to myself most of the time. Much less so than I used to, though. That has been a constant effort on my part. My twin brother is also a very emotional being and when we were young, he tended to let his emotions fly and consequently was a more fun mark than I was and got picked on a lot more. I was an extremely sensitive child and was heartbroken when anyone was mean to me, so I think seeing that only reinforced my natural tendency to turn inward. I always had a sort of compulsive need to be liked and to get approval, and I think part of me just instinctively thought that being nothing but happy all the time would make me more likable to people (which it did for the most part). I am very happy in life and do have a naturally cheerful and upbeat disposition, but I don't feel the need to "fake it" any more when I don't feel sunny. I worshipped my big sister when I was little and something that always amazed me about her was that she always seemed so in control (now, maybe when we were kids she wasn't as much as I remember--she is 8 years older than me, after all, I may have missed a lot), and she still is. But that's who she is, not who I am, and as I grew up I slowly learned (and am still learning) to embrace my own emotional nature. Its a part of who I am and said emotions are one of the things that tend to endear me most to those who know me best. I just have to keep reminding myself that.
So, are these really 16 different things? I don't know, a few of them are really just further exploration of the same trait repeated, I guess. But its the only 16 I'm willing to put out there for now. And I definitely will not be rereading this post, so if there are spelling or grammatical errors, deal with it--they aren't going to get fixed.
Keilana in her "turkey hat", in the car on the way to Grandma's house.
Rachel working off dinner through a wrestling match with the kids.
Rachel giving Keilana's turkey hat a try.
The Winter girls trying to redeem themselves after I took a very unflattering photo of them. . .this one is much nicer.
The tryptophan kicking in. Well, that or going to bed at 2am the night before.
The kids playing. . . .I don't know, something noisy.
Keilana hanging out with Grandma (working diligently on Alexa's baby blanket). I can't get that girl to NOT cheese out.
Keilana trying (quite unsuccessfully) to get Brad out of her way.
Me, with 5 days to go until my due date. But at most, I will no longer be pregnant 2 weeks from tomorrow. Woohoo!! I can't breath anymore, and its getting really annoying.
