Girl. You Better Work.

I had multiple fights/arguments/tiffs with each of my teachers last semester.  They all taught a section on classical conditioning which included a lesson teaching that, "Pretty people get what they want."  The teachers (and literature) explained that people who were pretty had more success in life, they got higher raises more often, they landed the job interviews, they got special treatment at restaurants and doctor's offices.  Pretty people are assumed to be trustworthy, friendly, and helpful.  Pretty people are likable.  This subject is driven home by research studies, psychological journals, statistics, and hours of lecture.

And it just gets under my skin.
I refuse to believe that pretty people get what they want based solely on their looks.

Then this happened:

My mom has a picture of my sisters and I on her desk.  A colleague stopped in, saw the picture, and asked about us.  My mom listed our recent accomplishments:

This one just won a Photoshop Guru Award.

This one ran a marathon this year and is editor of TABLE magazine.

This one has practically started a DIY enterprise with her blog

This one is single-handedly raising her 3 kids and really focuses on meditation and inner peace.

This one is at The University of Utah and just made the Dean's List and she's my favorite.
(That last part was about me and I elaborated on it a little.  Wert.)

She ended with something like, "They are all very successful women."
To which the other teacher responded:
"Well.  That's because they're pretty."

Stop.
Right.
There.

"They're pretty?"  Really?  "They're pretty."  And THAT'S why they're successful?


Pretty's got nothing to do with it.

You want a job?
You kick ASS on your resume.
You prep for your interview.
And you dress the part.

You want a raise?
You put in the hours.
You work harder.
You don't mess up.  Ever.
You be polite.
You don't procrastinate.
You earn it.

You want the big house?  The picket fence?  The pool?
You save your money.

You want a date with someone?
You ask them.

You want people to like you?
Be yourself.
Help out.
Tell the truth.

The way I've built my life was on purpose. 
I chose the man I married.
I asked him out.
I'm at the school I want to attend.
Getting the degree I want.
Getting the grades I want.
I ask questions.
I pick up new hobbies.
I sweat it out.
I push and I push and I push.
Kindly.
But I push.

I have dug in my heels over and over again.
I.  Don't.  Give. Up.

I work for it.

If that's a GPA, a job, or belting out some Cher on karaoke night.
I know I have what it takes.

You have what it takes too.
So, quit selling yourself short.

Quit saying, "They get their way because they're pretty."
That's insulting.
To me.

Because I have substance.

If you put this much more work into it.
If you tried.
You'd be amazed.

There's nothing more annoying than hearing, "I could never do that" and "I don't have the time."
Because 1.  Yes you can.  If someone can, you can.  If no one ever has... you still can.
And 2.  Everyone has the same amount of time. 24 hours.  You have the time.  Quit being lazy.

So the next time you call me pretty... and I say "Thanks"... know it's because I assume you also know that I am wickedly smart.  I am talented.  I've got a lot more to offer than just my billion dollar smile.


 

On a test last semester the following question was posted:

You are in charge of planning the debate for your political party's campaign this Saturday afternoon.  The topics are heavy and not very interesting.  Based on what you've learned about Classical Conditioning who would you pick to be your speaker?

A.  A non-attractive person who is funny but does not know the material very well.
B.  An non-attractive person who does not know the material very well.
C.  An attractive person who may or may not know the material.
D.  A person who knows the material very very well.

The correct answer was "C."  I put "D."  And wrote under it, "You'd be stupid not to."

The Mom Bomb Part 1

I've been a total bomb with my kids lately.  I wish I was a "bomb" in that ultra-cool way where, you know, you have donuts for breakfast or you let them watch back to back Thomas the Tank Engine episodes.  And you're kids clap and cheer and say, "You're the bomb, Mom!"  I think "the bomb" ran parallel to being "a bag of chips."


But I'm not the bomb in that way.

Because, we're not in the 90s anymore. 

Bomb #1

I've taken it upon myself as the matriarch to induce a little spirituality via Family Home Evening into my home.  Growing up Bradley... puts an enormously high standard on FHE.  The meetings are meetings of The Church.  With a program, a podium, and assignments to be taken very seriously.  So I wasn't about to shirk my mantle and say "We'll just spend 15 minutes together chatting on the couch."  Eh-uh.  I would conduct the meeting, there would be a review of the calendar for the week, singing time, a lesson, and refreshments.  While the kiddos were napping I went online and got a lesson out of the Nursery manual.  On Prayer.  I made visual aids, highlighted main points, tabbed my scriptures, and typed out a rough... oh who am I kidding... extremely detailed outline. I was pumped.  I was ready.  And so so excited to start this.

I made dinner that night too so there would be no dilly dallying when Ken got home.  Dinner.  FHE.  That whip was getting cracked.  By me. To me.

Interjection:  My children are 2 and 11 months.

Dinner went well and I corralled everyone into the living room.  Where they sat... on the floor.  Bad move boys.

Patty:  Hey!  This is a meeting.  Get on the couch.  Sit up, you lazies.
Ken: Patty.  They're kids.  This is good.

I felt uneasy.  But talked myself out of it.  Come on, babe.  It's their first time.  They don't know.  They can sit on the floor.  No biggie.

The night continued.  I stood at the front of the room and with a big smile on my face said:

I'd like to welcome everyone out to Family Home Evening.  I'm Mom, and I'll be conducting.  We're going to start with an opening prayer.  (kicking myself for not assigning someone) Can I get a volunteer for the opening prayer?

No hands.  Not one.  Not.  Even.  Ken.
He was just trying not to laugh at me.

I will not be defeated!
"I'll say it," I said as I thought of maybe turning around or something to make it seem like a different person.  But just awkwardly stumbled around and then shook my head and started the prayer.  Which Kole talked through. 

After the prayer I moved onto calendar review.  I expected it to take a little longer.  In the Bradley Home it was at least 20 minutes.  House rule was:  "If it's not on the calendar it's not happening."  So!  I took out my calendar and started in:

"Okaaaay.  This week... tss tsss tsss.... I have... Story time at 10: 30 at the library.  Ken?"
"I'm going to work everyday."
"Nothing else?"
"Nope.  Nothing else."
"Because if it's not on the calendar now, it's not happening."
He kinda stared me down after that.

Calendar wrapped up in 30 seconds.  I was starting to sweat a little.  I sweat more than other humans naturally but I was getting like beady around my face.  This meeting was really zooming.  And not in a "It is so good you don't even realize time is passing" way.  In the other... way.

Singing time was such an embarrassment.  I planned 3 songs.  All ones that Kole (and presumably Ken) knew.  "Popcorn Popping," "Once There Was a Snowman," and "I Am a Child of God."  No one volunteered to conduct the music so I suggested they just try following the natural rhythm of the music as I made my way over to the piano.
I sat down.  Got to the pre-tabbed page.  Played the intro.  Paused to cue the song beginning and played my heart out for one whole line before realizing I was putting on a real one man show.
A comedy act, apparently.
I kept my spirits up through "Popcorn Popping" but they fizzled significantly when "Once There Was a Snowman" turned into a dance party.  I tried taking the room down a level with "I Am A  Child of God" but Kole was just running around the couch as many times as he could by then and Ken was throwing Joey up in the air trying to make him laugh.

Welcome, Holy Spirit.  To my home.

My well-planned lesson got cut from 10-15 minutes to 2.
No one (again... not even Ken) answered my questions.  And they were eeeeeeasy.
Like what do you say at the beginning of a prayer?

Blank.  Stares.

I answered all my own questions with a big, cheery grin on my face.  I took out my visual aids at the appropriate time, but Joey snagged them and started chewing on them.  I planned to do some prayer role playing but when I knelt down in demonstration Kole jumped on my back and yelled, "Piggyback!"
Here's the real kicker (in case you thought it was way back at the calendar planning):  The lesson suggested ending with a song "Pray in Faith." Aaaaand, you know me.

I begin by saying Dear Heav-en-ly Father
Ken started smiling.  Joey starts crying.  Koley stares at me.
I thank him for blessings he seeeeeends
Ken's eyebrows are way way up.  My voice is getting the pre-cry shakes.  Joey is full on crying now.
Then humbly I ask him.... Kole tells me this song is a bad one.  Ken starts laughing.  Joey is red in the face crying.
for things that I need.  InthenameofJesusChristAw-men.

I thanked everyone for coming.  Said the closing prayer.  And made sure I blessed the stinkin' refreshments.

Andi, Me, Julie.  The reaction I was hoping for.

Pretty close to the reaction I got.  Certainly felt if not expressed.

Mom Bomb.

There's more instances like this one.  I'm finding I kinda excel at this.  Mom Bomb Part #2 tomorrow.

A is for Andi Candy Girl

Andi is my youngest sister.  She lives in Mexico.  And the crazy nut came to Utah for her Spring Break.  A little ironic.  But very welcomed.  Our rendezvous started at the zoo.  When we got out of the car at the zoo... I was like... crap I didn't even bring real coats.  And that wind was a-nipping. But soon the weather was a warm as our hearts (smirk) and the day went marvelously.
Highlights?
Glad you asked.
The polar bear.  Though not a professionally trained circus bear.  He sure acted like one.  The flips. The dives.  The rolls.  The back stroke.  He went a little far when he started juggling and I ushered Kole and Great off... and muttered "show off."

Me and Julie raced up that huge hill that has the llamas and the wolves and the goats and the turkeys.... weird combo.  We were pushing our strollers and after about ten strides I was thinking This was a terrible idea.  Julie beat me.  Big time.  Is that any surprise?  Look at her!  Lean.  Fit.  Tall.  I didn't stand a chance.  I'm all talk.  And all flab, by the way.


 Lowlight of the day:  Paying $20 for lunch.  Kole had a corndog and I had a cheese burger.  We shared fries.  And a lemonade.  Twenty dollars.  I wanted to say, "Uh... can I see the receipt?"  But I didn't want to seem cheap.  And chalked it up to sponsoring the zoo.  So I just smiled and said thanks for my souvenir cup.  Andi drove home with us and we didn't have any more time to just change our clothes when we were off.  Where to?  Da Jazz Game.
 

It was our first Pro Basketball Game.  Jazz vs. Suns.  It was insane.  Well... we made it insane.  Some of the people around us weren't really "into" it.  Like they only sometimes cheered when we made a basket.  They only occasionally booed the other team.  They rarely got out of their seats to shake what their mammas gave them.  And they certainly didn't provide their own commentary. I wanted to yell, "You're not sitting for the SATs!  You're at a game!"  *sigh... shoulders drop*  The stiff upper class.  They just want to watch their hoops in silence and sip their Pellegrino.  Well... psht.  Good luck doing that sitting next to Flap Jack Pat and Suga Suga Andi Candy Girl of 26.9 Sports. Yeah.  We started up our own radio station.  (Currently trolling for sponsors.)  And listen to our clip.  I mean, we're naturals. Our enthusiasm far outweighs our lack of knowledge of the game/players/rules and our on the spot math skills.  'Twas riotous.

And the good times kept rolling.
If I had any computer skills this would have been a photo montage with Bob Seger's "We've Got Tonight" playing over it.  But... just hear it.  Feel it.  Live it.

This is Andi.  But in my head... this is what I look like.  I am delusional. 

It was glorious.  And now I am suffering from Andi withdrawals.  Food has lost it's taste- colors are dull.  Woe is me.

I Need a Stage Name

When I was little, my sisters and I sang.  A lot.  We had the parts down to "Love is Spoken Here."  And Dad would (occasionally) have us perform it when the missionaries (or other families or crushes) came over.  We would also perform "Called To Serve" while marching around the coffee table and saluting to the beat of the music.
We sang while doing our After Supper Jobs.  Aladdin's "A Whole New World" was a constant performed most often by Julie and Victoria.  For a time Mulan's "Reflection" was big... and the last slam dammer was Ja-Rule and J-Lo's "I'm Real."

Julie is wearing my all-time favorite dress of hers.  She recently gave it to me. 
My goal is to wear it (and look presentable) by my birthday.

 We'd had lip synching competitions. Primarily to Lisa Loeb's "Stay."  After we each had a turn winning (twice or three times) we put in the Spice Girls' SPICE CD and lip synched "Too Much."
I may be speaking out of line, but... We were Performers.  (Capital "p" necessary.)  A new musical breathed new life into us.
Bye Bye Birdie. We became Ann Margret.  Byyyyye Byyyyyye B-herrrrrrrd-ie, the army's gotcha now.  But more than the main title... whoa.... The Telephone Hour.  I was always the dweeby Harvey Johnson calling to try to get a date.  And... the creme de la creme from that musical... "How Lovely To Be A Woman."  Oh!  Life changing.  Still one of my all time faves.  How lovely to be so grown up and FREEEEEEEE!

After we saw 7 Brides for 7 Brothers.  We each chose a brother to be our husband.  OoooooOOOooo.  OooooOOOOoooooooooooooooooo.  Can't make no voooooows, to a herd of cows.  All those Sobbin' women.  We never really could get over Dorkus.  None of us wanted to be Dorkus.

Uncle Victor brought over Thoroughly Modern Millie and we were flappers.
Saw Evita and we were dying Madames of Argentina.
We were the Mistresses of Murderers Row from Chicago.
Teachers in Siam in the King and I.
I was Chava.  I was disowned for marrying a Russian Orthodox. Tradition!
Music was magical.  Singing was liberating.

Maybe it was the six years of Concert Choir I took, maybe it was the 2 awards I received (oh.  hold up. *dusts shoulder* I had a little dirt on there), but singing has just stuck with me. 

I love it!

iPods have been a blessing.  You put those earbuds in and sing as loud as you can and you don't even know if you're on pitch or not.  I mean, I know... because I have a gift.  But "you" was meaning people in general.  When I got my first iPod the first CD I put on was Cher's Greatest Hits.  If I could turn back Ti-ime! ner-ner-ne If I could FIND a way! I take back all those words that had hurt you and you'd staaaay!  I filled my iPod in like 3 days with all my favorite songs and then I gave Ken a headache.

And thank Heaven for the Glee soundtracks, right?  I love singing to them.  I sound more like Kurt Hummel than Rachel Berry these days- but- oh... love those CDs.  Ken will ask me why I buy the Glee songs instead of the real singers.
Uh.
Because I can sound like the Glee kids.
Duh.

With the kids, and being home all day, you can bet Spotify is on.  Last week we were part of the French Revolution and I was Cosette, Fantine, Jean val Jean, Javert, and Eponine. Busy day for me. Lots of costume changes. When that got old (For Kole.  Not for me.)  we put on our jeans, tucked our shirts in and sang some George Strait for a day.  Today, when Kole gets up from his nap, he's gonna be Big Boi and I'll be Andre 3000 and we are gonna blaze with a little Outkast.

It feels good to sing.  To sing the really high loud notes.  As you spread your arms.  And turn your head up as you close your eyes.  To bring.  The house.  Down.
And then take a bow.

Try it.  Put on your favorite song.  And sing it. 

Or to try something new:
1.  Didn't We Almost Have It All - Whitney Houston
2.  Don't Go Breakin' My Heart- Elton John and Kiki Dee
3.  Ice Ice Baby- Vanilla Ice
4.  There Is No Arizona- Jamie O'Neal
5.  We Are Young- Fun.
6.  I'm Not Lisa- Jessi Colter
7.  I Just Called to Say I Love You- Stevie Wonder
8.  Can't Stop Loving You- Phil Collins
9.  Come What May- Moulin Rouge Soundtrack (Do an encore with El Tango de Roxanne)
10.   Maggie May- Rod Stewart
11.  More Than A Memory- Garth Brooks
12.  Don't Stop Believing- Journey
13.  Shoop- Salt n Peppa
14.  Piano Man- Billy Joel
15.  Proud Mary- Tina Turner
16.  Stranger In My Hosue- Tamia
17.  One Two Step -Chiara
18.  The Story- Brandi Carlisle
19.  He Had It Coming- Chicage Soundtrack
20.  Long Time Gone- The Dixie Chicks
21.  I Never- Rilo Kiley

I got chills just MAKING that playlist.
Hmm.  What do you think I should add?

I'm the one in the light blue t-shirt.

Christmas

Christmas break was too much fun.  Why do I call it "Christmas Break" when I am home all day every day?  Because it felt so different.  It felt p-e-r-f-e-c-t.

After Les Miserables.

   

Andi went through my closet and showed me my possibilities!

And how to do a sock bun.

 And now, everyone has gone home, Andi's not sleeping in my living room anymore, the tree is down, both boys are sick, and my calendar is just a bunch of empty squares.  For all of 2013.
I think I need to downgrade my resolution list.
"Go to the Gym" that's lofty.
How bout... "Put on a bra and real clothes."
"Do a daily project with Kole."  Psht.  I was dreaming.
How bout... "Set train up."
"Drink more water."  Why?
How bout.... "Pace yourself on that 12 pack of Coke."

We did make a milk carton bird feeder yesterday.  That was fun.
No birds are eating from it.  That is sad.
Ken went to the gym last night.  He's  really good at sticking to things.
Tonight it will be my turn to go to the gym.  I got really fat over Christmas my lifetime.
And today I just feel like staying fat.
I think this is called The Doldrums.

The Sun Maid Sisters

Kole was staring at a box of raisins for a long time.  We're all familiar with the girl on the box:

Image Here.

He had his eyebrows all scrunched up and he kept turning his head back and forth.  After watching him for awhile I said, "What do you see on there?"
Kole said, "It's a girl."
"Who is she?"
"Andi?" he asked.
"Nope," I smiled, "Not Andi."
"Is it Julie?"
"Not Julie either.  That's the Sunmaid Raisin Girl."
He put on his most wrinkled up and let down thinking face and said, "Well.  I don't know her."
I guess he'd prefer to have one of his Aunties on his box of raisins.

Julie

Andi

My List, My Sisters, My Koley

For starters I can check a second things off my "26 Before 27" list.  (Number 1 was dye my own hair... saving that post.)  I played the piano in church.  I have done it before as an accompanist which to me is always pretty overlooked.  You just figured there is some piano super star playing and you listen to the singers.  I was asked to play for Easter.  I practiced for hours.  Ken was so sick of the song.  I was so sick o the song... "Easter Prayer."  It was a medley.  Why do medleys always have really dumb names?  Anyway I wanted to know the song really well.  To the point where it was almost memorized.  I was there.  I was so ready to play it. I was first on the program... and was doing well.  I play really soft. I get nervous.  About half way through I heard Kole.  Not cry.  Just make a sound and, I am not kidding, I looked up.  I looked away from the music.  I stopped playing for like a second. It felt like a minute.  Slow motion big time.  So embarrassing- and what was even worse?  I lost my place after that.  Because I had it mostly memorized I didn't really know where  I was.  I found my spot but my confidence was shot.  Let's just say the song ended. Period.  There was the normal "You did really good" comments in the hall- I live in a super overly nice ward.  I want to play it again just to say "See!  I CAN play this!  I just got distracted. Come on!  Give me another chance!"  But- I did it.  2 down.  24 left.

Let's see.... I would like to dedicate an entire post to the Bradley Reunion which occurred over the weekend.  At this time I only wish to offer a teaser.  We had our pictures professionally taken on Friday night.  I am incredible misplaced in a family of tall, gorgeous, naturally slender women.  But the pictures turned out great.  I think we were honing Kardashians. (May become more evident in pictures posted later.)  At the shoot, I felt like the problem child.  The photographer and his assistant kept having to stop and say, "Patty could you put your chin up... no... too far.... sigh... back. "  or"Patty your hand is... not right."  "Patty."  "Patty."  "PATTY!"  Posing and looking good doing it are not natural abilities I possess.  I can make killer caramel popcorn and I can read really fast.  I can't pose right for a picture though.  Notice how I am the only one doing nothing fun?  I am just looking at the camera?  Boring.  Boringboringboringboring.  But!  Please also take note of those killer calves!  I am so proud of my legs.

There's news with Koley too!  First off, he has taken off with his crawling as of Friday.  No more GI Crawl.  No more Swiffering.  He can go.  I think it was being around his cousins.  He is completely enthralled by other children.  He just stares.  Like a love-sick teenager.  Or a little puppy being offered the biggest bag of Pupperoni ever.  And wants to be as close to them as he can.  It's so tender.

This is him saying, "Mom you're in my way.  I'm trying to get closer to these miniature humans I keep seeing around here."

Note all his extra joints on his forearm.  There's the elbow, the mid arm, the pre-wrist, the wrist.  the kid has chub.  AND!  He's cutting two teeth!  It's a twofer- toother.  I couldn't resist.  His bottom fronts.  You can't see them yet but you can feel them.  His little gums are sore, sore, sore.  And my nippies are sore, sore, sore.  I swear he is using me as a grindstone.  Youch.  He's going to blog all about it this week- so check over on his des temps en temps.