It's Label Time!

I am not white.

Neither am I "Caucasian."

I am an American of (mostly) European heritage.  There are lots of reasons why I "should" feel short changed in the PC department: I am a woman; I am a "Mormon;" (and here we get a little far fetched but it's true), I am an exile of Scotland, and my native American ancestors' culture is completely deleted from me.  If it weren't for "white" men, my life would, hypothetically, be a lot happier (at least, different, and somehow different is always happier, right?)

Part of the problem is that it's all chalked up to the "white people."  I hate it when people say that I'm white.  It's not true.  I'm as white as any African American is black, or an Asian American is yellow, or a native American is red. That sounds rude, doesn't it? It is rude, and calling me "white" is just as rude as calling anyone else any other color.

I'm not Caucasian, either.  That's one of the most ridiculous terms ever to be applied to me: it refers to a people of northern India.  They were slightly less dark than the south Indian peoples, so they were "white," ---but they were less white than I am, and I don't have any recollection of being told that my family history traced there....ever.

If "blacks" get to be called "African American," then I get to be a "European American."  It's only parallel.  And if they want to be called "people of color," then I'm a "person of color," too, because there is definitely pigment in my skin (which is peachy), my eyes(which are brown), and my hair(which is also brown).  And if they want me to stop "being racist," then they need to stop being racist, too.

My family is not racist. We celebrate diversity, and part of the proof is the apple of our eyes: my youngest sibling is adopted, and he is not of the same racial makeup as I am. I love him just as much as my biological siblings, and I hope for him all the things that I hope for my biological siblings. I think I might love him better than I did some of the older ones when they were his age, just because I know better now how to value a sibling. I feel comfortable saying that my whole family feels this way.

It is unfair to us for anyone to judge our thoughts according to what our demographic predecessors thought and did (which does not include my ancestors, incidentally. I've done quite a bit of family history, and it seems they were all very poor, never owned slaves, were servants themselves, and fought for the north in the civil war), just like how it's unfair  for the African Americans to be judged by their racial background, or for the Scottish to judge me by the dishonorable actions of an obscure, Campbell ancestor, or anyone to be judged by the race they are a part of.

Isn't it about time we all moved on?

. . .And it's "European American," please.

My Brother Likes Cars. A Lot.

My Mom took my brother and me to the mall. As we're looking for a parking spot, he says: "Quick! Take a picture! Take a picture!" and, knowing by instinct, he meant me to take a picture of a car, I took a picture of the cool car directly in front of us:

But he did not mean that one. He meant this one:

So this one's for you, Nephi. You car fanatic, you.

Family = Built in Friends!

 Everyone loves little Lamby. Lamby likes to take naps, read, and be clean! Her favorite color is white, and she hates all food. Do not feed her food. She really, really does NOT like food.

 Lips glossed! See? SO PRETTY!

 Happy birthday, Laken! Now you are all grown up!

 Look, a little ballerina! And her baby sister! ....and her aunt who is also a peer!

 Don't you just love her teeth?

Who can resist photographing such a beautiful iris?

 Here we are visiting Benjamin. Look at Anika's face on the right! So cute!

 We had a lot of fun playing!

 Sometimes, when the kids ask me, "can I...?" I begin to ask them, "Do I look like your mother?" which I usually correct with, "AM I your mother?" because yes, I do look like our mother!

....My head is bigger.

 Benjamin showed us where they keep the horses and other pets.

Our little comedian.

Artists Called Mothers.

Christians believe that dreams can be powerful.

Joseph, son of Israel, had dreams about his future, and was gifted with the power of interpreting dreams. The Pharaoh had a prophetic dream, given to him in order to care for his kingdom, and also for Joseph to interpret. Lehi had an important dream, the dream of the tree of life, and he was even called a "visionary man."

I am not a prophet, though I am a Christian. My dreams are usually just the random sparks of a sleeping brain, but sometimes, sometimes: my dreams mean something to me.

I don't know that I have ever had a prophetic dream, and I really don't think that I've ever dreamed something that affected someone else (like whether or not they eat in the next 14 years). However, my dreams give me insights to how I feel, and sometimes, rarely, my dreams can be answers to prayer.

As a Mormon, I believe in personal revelation. God talks to me, because I am his daughter, and he loves me. Sometimes I am so dense, it takes something so involved and visual as a dream to make me realize something important about my life.

The other night I had such a dream.

My oldest sister just had a baby. You could say the concept is on my mind.

I have often had dreams about being pregnant. In these dreams, various things happen. Sometimes I'm asked who the father is, and I can't remember, and seriously? That's distressing. I remember once in a dream my dream-Mom asked me about my baby, "Who's the father? What's your baby's last name, huh? What's the last NAME?!" and I replied, "It's BARNHART. Mom. The last name is BARNHART."

Once, in a pregnant dream, my skin covering my baby was just like bread dough -- soft, plasticky, and difficult to keep a baby inside. It was an active baby, too, so it was really frustrating, trying to keep the child in. It was very strange.

Once, I had a dream that I was pregnant, and somehow was back in high school. My show choir, from back in the day, did their best to be kind to me. At practice (dream practice, that is), they asked me careful questions and looked at me curiously when they thought I couldn't see.

This dream was different from all of those.

I was pregnant, which makes it similar, but the mood of the dream was different. I wasn't panicking about the pregnancy for any reason. I don't remember being married in the dream, but I don't remember being single, either. I was coming close to the end (I wasn't uncomfortable, which probably tells you how often I've actually been pregnant, to dream it like that), and I was very, very excited about it. My whole family was excited, too. It was like counting down to Christmas: delightful anticipation! In my dream, I was waiting for a baby to become my daughter. I was anticipating motherhood.

I can think of no greater work of art than the creation of another human being.

I am a Tribute (Obituary)

PROVO, Ut -- Heidi B., the perpetual student, of Brigham Young University, has died. She was ...well, it's curious, saying the age of a woman, even a dead one, even if I'm not saying, but just typing it, seems impolite. Let's just say she was old enough to drink, and young enough to die good. Even though she didn't drink, and she wasn't really good, either.

Heidi, a left-hander, was 741-0 with two near-wins and five comically predictable strike-outs only in the last year.

Heidi suffered and died from complications due to what medical experts called a "massive BSR stroke" (while reading, of course) caused, doctors say, by an unusual combination of extreme boredom, extreme seclusion, and massive reading. Apparently the brain really can only handle a quantifiable amount of proportionate salmations of these three things, and doctors estimate that she had exceeded the normal limits of "so much" in the eighth grade. "It's a wonder," said one expert, "that she made it as long as she did. It really was only a matter of time."

Witnesses claim that she died laughing.

According to Heidi's friends, she was "nice --- but a little strange." One friend said, "I felt bad for her, because she just didn't fit in -- I mean, she really, really didn't. I just wanted to help her be normal, but it was totally beyond her to even see normal. It's like she didn't even realize how weird she was. Or she liked being abnormal. I think she was pretty near-sighted, actually. She told me her contact prescription once, and I sort of wondered if it were legal for someone so impaired to drive."

Heidi's family had nothing to say on the subject of her death. When questioned, they asked, "Who?" and then, "she's dead? What are you talking about? Stop being ridiculous. I don't have time for one of these games."

According to several facebook tests, she most likely was color blind, had road rage, dandruff, schizophrenia, technophobia, androphobia, and would most likely date both George AND Fred Weasley if she were a student at Hogwarts. Of course that means the opposite (Except the part about androphobia).

Heidi was pursuing a degree in English Teaching, which she unfortunately did not obtain prior to her death.  She has exactly zero major (or minor. She was minoring in humanities) accomplishments to speak of.

She is survived by ...well, no one. She never did get around to making one of those family-things, and her apartment contract forbade pets of any kind.

At least she died laughing.

I Have a DREAM Today!

"I have a dream: a fantasy,

To help me through reality

And my destination makes it worth the while,

pushing through the darkness,

still another mile.

I believe in angels, something good in everything I see

I believe in angels.

When I know the time is right for me,

I'll cross the stream; I have a dream.

-ABBA

One day, when I'm grown up, things will be different.

I'll have a long, tall bookshelf, with all of my books out. They'll be easy to find, take, and read. It will be lovely.

I'll have a mudroom where I hang up all of my coats, jackets, sweaters, and scarves. It'll have a place for my boots and hats, too.

I'll have a kitchen with plenty of counter-top space for all of my appliances: and I will have appliances. Specifically, I'll have a kitchenaid (I mean, what's the point of getting married if you don't get a kitchenaid? Isn't that the whole purpose of a reception, for the kitchenaid?)!

There will be room in the fridge, and the freezer. And all of the food in it will be mine! ...and my husband's, I guess, except really it'll be mine, because I'll be the one to get mad when I catch one of our kids drinking orange juice straight from the container.

...Apparently I'll be married.

I will have a pantry, too. More than one shelf, that is. And we'll have all the cereal I could ever eat, which is a lot really!

I'll have a walk in closet, where all my shirts, skirts, dresses and shoes will have a place to stay. Also, I'll have enough room in my underwear drawer for all my underwear. and socks.

There will be windows, and new carpet. And efficient insulation (meaning the doors and windows and walls won't leak cold).

The lights will not be yellow.

And I'll have a garden! There will be herbs, flowers, and fruit trees! I want apples, and pears, and cherries. Also, grapes and tomatoes. I'll have days when all I do is can fruit, sweat, and talk to my Mom on the phone (unless she comes over to help, then we'll talk but not on the phone. And we'll probably have to tell Toby to stop bothering Fizzgig, the dog, cuz Toby's gonna be young forever, and Fizzgig will be easily teased, but it's okay, because I'll have kids by then, too, and they'll play crazy games in the woods about being chased by witches, and we can talk about raising kids, and Mom will give me advice about potty training, and I'll complain about the school district, and my kids will be super happy about having Uncle Toby over, but then they'll break a bone or something, and then on the way to the emergency room I'll tell them that Grandma won't come over for at least a month, and even though they'll all know she'll be back next week, they'll be sorry for what they did).

Also, I'll live in Pennsylvania! Obviously. How else could my mother come over to help me make applesauce?

The Sinister Australian Redback Spider!

When I was younger, I had this theory. It's one of those things that I look back on and laugh. Why? Well, actually living this part of life is so much different than I thought it would be, theoretically, and that's why it's comical. I had a lot of bogus theories like this one. Then again, maybe it's not such a bad idea...

Theory: I should marry an ugly man. Why? If he's uglier than I am, then he will never leave me. Could he do better than me? No, are you kidding? What kind of a lucky miracle was it that I agreed to marry him in the first place?

If you think this is a good idea, read this link for some help:

How to fall in Love with Someone Who's Really Ugly

Oh, and proof that I'm attractive enough that someone, somewhere, is less attractive than I am (just in case you were wondering. Because frankly, I wonder):

Why I have so many sisters (I have nine sisters).

And if you were wondering if spiders really are creepy, just read this, and you'll never need to ask again. Don't ask me how I found this. I don't want to talk about it.

Funny People.

Janel: The little speed bumps are the worst!
Makiah: Do they even boost your speed?!

Nephi: I'm starting to hate whales.

Homework Home Work Home-work.

We are not selfish people. We believe in giving of ourselves: our time, our talents, and our energy. This means helping the poor and sick, the emotionally weary.

We also are a family people. We believe that the family is sacred, and deserves much of our time, dedication, care, and most of all, our love.

There is an unfortunate problem in the American home that is making children sick. It is distracting parents from loving their children fully, correctly, and healthily.

It is the problem of gender roles in America.

It has been said, and it might be easy to misunderstand, that a woman’s place is in the home. The first go-to document on family is “The Family, a Proclamation to the World,” which states that “Mothers are primarily responsible for the nurture of their children.” The definition of the word “nurture” is “to feed and protect; to support and encourage; to bring up, train, educate.” Within the “nature vs nurture” debate, we do know, for certain, that environmental factors play heavily into the identity of an adult, varying greatly between identical twins (genetically, with one identity) who are different in personality, morality, and stability of character due to different environmental factors.

Now don’t get me wrong, I actually do believe that a woman’s place is in the home when that is her choice. If a woman decides to stay at home, then that is exactly where her place is. I’m not trying to say that’s wrong.

My mother nurtured me well. As an adult, I am autonomous: I care for myself in every way, I interact healthily with other people, I have goals, ambitions, and I am financially responsible. She fed me, protected me within reason(I was physically safe, and introduced to the less savory aspects of human life at a reasonable pace, at appropriate times). She supported me in my academics by expecting me to do well, and allowing me to do so. I can remember not even once when my mother helped me with a homework assignment. I guess I always knew I could ask, and it’s possible that she did and I just don’t remember it, but the important thing is, I always knew that she knew that I could do it, and therefore did not need her help. She had high expectations for me. So did my Dad, I guess, because he certainly didn’t ask me “Heidi, did you do your homework?” every evening at seven. He did, on the other hand, make sure I fed the dog.

I try to imagine if, for some reason, my mother had been waiting at the door when I came home from first grade with my first homework assignment, and after she hugged and kissed me, and told me she missed missed missed me, and plopped a plate of cookies with glass of milk in front of my seven year old self, she ripped open my backpack, and began doing my homework assignment aloud. Suppose, then, that this was not a 24-hour affair with insanity, but the actual method by which my mother was “supporting, encouraging, and educating” me.

Does this show love? Maybe. Or dependence. Dependence is easily confused with love: does my imaginary mother, here, love me, or need to live vicariously through me, by taking her role as mother to a point where it includes living my, her child’s, life? How is this supportive, encouraging, or educational? It in fact does the opposite. It takes away my freedom of self: my freedom to chose to be responsible, growing, and educated. It undermines my basic, human value.

That’s not to say that no children need support, encouragement, and education in the home. No way! I also happen to know that my mother and father have helped siblings of mine who needed a different kind of parent, a parent who inquires after academics, and they have been those parents, too.

But they still don’t DO the homework. And we are better people for it: because that is real love, and real love is the kind of love that makes real people in the end. Real people contribute to society in a meaningful way and are able to give real love, too. By “‘loving” your children in the way that takes away their opportunities to grow up, including homework, you take away their ability to eventually contribute meaningfully to society and participate in real love with everyone -- including parents, spouses, and their own children. How is that kind? How is that possibly what our Heavenly Father wished for his children-mothers to do when he prescribed their role as mothers to nurture? How is that nurturing?

It is not.

It is a false love. It is the kind of love that inhibits growth, and it needs to be checked. It needs to be squelched. It needs to be exterminated from our behavioral vocabulary.

Children have a right to do their own homework: mistakes and all.

Comedy Central.

I wrote down some of the ridiculous things that my family said while I was home visiting this summer. We're an outspoken tribe, as you're about to see.

Anika: "Heidi, do we have meat in us? Like animals?"

Makiah: "Someday, Heidi, we're going to get out of this house."

Me: "I already did... remember the part where I go to college?"

Makiah: "Oh yeah. I forgot."

Nephi: "I wish Makiah were a boy."

Anika: "Evil people have messy hair."

Nephi: "The string won't go back in; the hat's lost; and his battery pack won't go back into his butt."

Makiah: (to Janel): "You're going to live in the city, I just know it."

Makiah: "Do you have The Orthodox book with you?"

Me: "Uh... The Alchemist?"

Makiah: "That's what I said."

Kimber: "We have a gene in our family that makes us ruin our own lives."

Makiah: "...as long as he has nice lips. And good hair. And nice teeth!"

Makiah: "...Obviously you're not telepathic."

Stephanie: "What's worse than having a child attached to a blanket?"

Mom: "Having a child that's attached to two blankets." (That would be Penny).

Anika: "She's disgusting. I like her, a little. As a friend."

Connor: (age 6): "I can drive!"

Anika: (emphatically) "No, you can't! You don't even have a license plate! You'd go to juvenile!"

Nephi: "...and guys, being obnoxious is when you talk real loudly, just to let you know."

Makiah: (very seriously)"No, Nephi. Being obnoxious can mean many different things."

Makiah: "How much is tithing?"

Mom: "Ten percent."

Nephi: (indignantly) "I thought it was five!"

Nephi, the Water Bender

My brother Nephi wishes he were the avatar. He's practicing water bending on the trampoline.

Dancing Through Traffic.

Anika and I were listening to Lady Gaga. I'm pretty sure this one was "Paper Gangsta." Needless to say, we are huge fans. And really good dancers. I'm pretty sure Anika's going to make a fabulous efy counselor someday.

Highland Fling

...and now for your enjoyment, ladies and gentlemen! The highland fling!

Be Envious, Because My Life Rocks.

I'm going home in July! Of course, the main purpose is to go to Tabbi's wedding. However, these are the other things that I really, really look forward to doing/going to while I'm home:

1. The Hill Cumorah pageant!

2. Rita's Italian Ice

3. Knoebel's grove

4. Marino's OIP

5. Wegman's subs

6. Ricket's Glenn

7. Montour preserve

8. Drive in movies

9. AVATAR THE LAST AIRBENDER!!!

10. Grandma's house

The best part? I'll be doing these things with all of my FAVORITE people ever, my brothers and sisters!! I miss my family so, so, so much. I have the best times when I'm with them. I think about them every day.