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By Jodi, January 24, 2012 9:57 AM

I recently found myself directed to a website that essentially makes fun of other websites and then it’s many many many readers post comments trashing the writers and actions of these sites. It’s brutal. I was reading the posts, somewhat caught up in the tornado of vitriol and snark and hate. Until I saw one post that eviscerated a friend of mine. It was unfair and incorrect on many levels. But the comments from the readers were like an angry mob. They grew harsher, they grew more cruel, and they even felt dangerous at times.

I’m not linking to the site or the post because the last thing I’d like to do is support them. And anyway it’s a total downer and waste of time.

But before my self-righteous high-horse gallops out of this town, let’s take note of the fact that I stayed on the site long enough to find my friend there. I was reading the other posts with a little discomfort, but not really being offended. Not until it hit a personal note.

Why? Why is there such a market for hugely offensive half-truths and bringing down people who are (or who’d like to be) public figures? I guess we all tell ourselves that if someone puts themselves out there, in the big forum of the world, they have to be ready for it, they deserve it, they’re bringing it on themselves. But I’m not buying that. It goes too far. It goes beyond responsible journalism or constructive criticism, and it becomes a witch hunt. This wanting people to fail. This wanting to see their flaws big and large.

Why?

Failure or mistakes of perceived successful or popular figures doesn’t make our bank balance go up, our children behave better, our patience increase, or our marriage more fulfilling. It’s a distraction. But I can’t really find the upside of it. This level of negativity, regardless if a person “deserves” it or not – is just way beyond what I think humans are built for. I know for a fact I would shut down, stick my thumb in my mouth and hide under my bed in the fetal position if I had things written about me in the same spirit that I’ve seen put out there for others.

For instance, it seems a huge audience was thrilled to see that Dooce (a juggernaut blogger who has made fistfuls of cash writing about her life) and her husband were splitting up. They all saw it coming apparently, and wondered to each other about the welfare children. That’s almost fair, right? Because she’s written about these things, there’s the license to discuss it publicly. But it’s obvious that many of these folks don’t care for the children at all, it’s all just part of the freakshow. There were also links to websites whose entire purpose was to eviscerate The Pioneer Woman (another huge blogger. Come on. I don’t have to tell you that. Books, TV shows, etc.) Sites who are polished and well kept and slick and whose entire existence is to mock her, her husband and kids, and the empire that she’s built in a few short years. That’s a lot of energy spent on someone you don’t actually know.

So why so much hatred when people become successful? It’s not just bloggers. I’ve seen the same mentality around a good friend of mine who has become wildly successful in the music world. People who watched him come up and put his time in now are mad that he is on top. They write nasty things about him, and in truth it is just not deserved.

I don’t know. I did steal the name of this post from Morrissey, who I’m guessing from the song he wrote encountered exactly the same thing. I suppose there’s comfort in the truth that this has been happening forever, not just since the internet became our medium. But the web certainly makes it easier to anonymously and quickly hurt people we do and do not know. I just wonder why so many people make the choice to do just that.

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By Jodi, January 20, 2012 9:46 AM

A few nights ago Roan announced that his 3rd grade teacher had made a declaration in class: everyone must start wearing deodorant. It was a Thursday which means they had gym that day and I do sympathize with a woman who has a class full of stinky sweaty boys and girls. That’s got to be tough and would certainly sway a person to believe that some of these children indeed should be left behind…

Roan could not have been more excited about this declaration. Ever since he saw Isaiah Mustafa in the Old Spice commercials, he’s been gunning to wear it. You’ve seen this, yes? I’ll embed it for people who haven’t. I mean – it is genius. I love it even now, after seeing it way too often.

Right.

Turns out that Roan wasn’t the only one who was dying to Old Spice it up. A few days later, when I was the designated responsible adult in charge of picking up Roan, two of his besties, Javier and Sachin, and his muse (I’ll have to write about that later) Anya, I had the brilliant idea of treating them all to their sticks of deodorant.

“You guys want to go buy the deodorant your teacher said you needed?”

(Now please imagine jumping around, limbs flailing wildly, whooping, hollering and such).

So it was decided.

On the walk to the drugstore, Roan excitedly told Sachin and Javier that he was going to get Old Spice. He kept saying, “I’m on a horse”. And they kept laughing. No back story, no build up, just “I’m on a horse.” Javier has an older brother whom I’m going to guess also wears Old Spice because Javier then announced that he too would get Old Spice but one-upped Roan by knowing which “flavor”. It would be Swagger.

I did not know that Old Spice had flavors.

The “Me too” chorus could not have come any faster or any louder and as we tumbled into CVS, the boys started racing to the deodorant isle. Anya hung back with me and seemed a little unimpressed. It’s not easy being a muse.

By the time I found the stinky boys they were all gripping their deodorants, reading the instructions, smelling it and excitedly nervously crazily moving about as if they were going to ride a rollercoaster for the first time. Sachin was miming how he would apply it, with all indications being that it would start with his feet, and end at the top of his head. Roan was wondering what it would taste like (which I cannot fault him for. It is the icy blue color of our favorite Ice-Pop) and Javier was casually snorting the scent with alarming gusto.

3 Old Spicers and an unimpressed Muse

Obviously none of them wanted bags after we made our purchase. They proudly walked down the sidewalk, just three 8-year-old boys with their Old Spice. And as dumb wonderful luck would have it, we bumped into two classmates who got to see the glorious acquisitions.  After some posturing, bragging, and another miming session of the future application, the classmates could be heard begging for their own Old Spice purchase. Seriously. I’ve not seen so much hype over any product save in the video game category.

Honestly, I don’t really think Roan needs to be wearing deodorant yet. But seeing the joy and unexpected status bump that Old Spice has brought into his life I cannot deny him the opportunity to smell like Isaiah Mustafa. After all, you can’t argue with a man holding a handfull of diamonds while riding a horse.

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By Jodi, January 18, 2012 1:32 PM

6:57 am

At around 5:11 am, the stirring starts. A cough in the dark, followed by bed springs squeaking. Sometimes that’s it for about 45 minutes, and sometimes that’s how a party begins. In the event of a party, there are unreasonably cute sounds that make their way to my ears. The sounds that kind of make you think they’re pre-fabricated by a “Cute Baby Sounds!” studio. Coos and squeaks and hic-upish laughter reverberating and amplifying from baby to baby. And sometimes the sounds are wails, meditative mantras of “da-da-da-da-da-da-da-DA! DA! DA!” at which point I throw my right arm up over a pillow that has made its way to my head in an always futile attempt to try to block sound.

My message right then to the babies is: “The Nelson Calls do not wake up before 6 AM”. Reasonable, I think.

They disagree on occasion.

I go in at 6:00 to their room and Anson hands them to me. I nurse them at the same time, and it is always dark so I close my eyes and just play with their hair. I trace their ears and stroke their foreheads and wonder if these are touches that in the future will calm them without them knowing why. Usually Roan bursts out of his room around this time and tumbles in with his very messy hair and dreamy puffy eyes and hugs me and kisses me and then creeps into what only minutes ago was my spot next to Anson in bed. They talk about where they are on whichever collaborative video game they’re playing, and make a plan to get further. And when Smith finishes nursing (he always finishes first), he pulls away and sing-song’s “Da-Da!”

Anson comes in to get him and Sheppy and I readjust and melt a little more into each other for an extra 3 or 4 minutes, at which point he seems to be alarmed that he’s missing out on some Dad time, and squeals to get away from me, rambling back in to the place where Dad has set up his party.

I go brush my teeth, grab a baby in each arm, then follow Roan up the stairs. I change the little crazy baby diapers while Roan scoots into the corner of the couch and puts a show on TV to watch. Shep and Smith begin pulling toys out, choosing books to have read to them and sometimes sit with their big brother watching iCarly.

7:14 am, blueberries

I have about 45 seconds in the kitchen before the babies realize I’m gone, and put the coffee together as fast as I can. I put water on to make Roan some tea. Empty the dishwasher and take Sheppard off the dishwasher door. Then Smith. Then Sheppard. Next comes packing Roan’s lunch as I offer Smith utensil after utensil to make him forget that the oven door can be pulled open.

Anson comes upstairs after taking in his extra 15 minutes of sleep. These minutes are valuable to him, and add up to me getting to sleep in on the weekends. It’s a fair trade. I put breakfast together, usually cold cereal for Roan, and some oatmeal for the boys. I begin to feed the babies while Roan joins me at the table, and Anson pours his coffee.

Breakfast is full of conversation: what’s the day going to be like? Do you have your Strings class today? What photo shoot are you working on? Where should I go with the little dudes today?

7:16 am, blueberries

Breaking away from the table Roan and I run downstairs together and choose his clothes. We get beds made up and his teeth brushed and find the socks that will serve him best. Hopefully there is clean underwear available because that sets the tone for a happy day. On that, we agree.

Back upstairs, the floor is covered with a weeks-worth of activities and books, and Anson looks like the coffee may be kicking in. I pack up Roan’s bag, get the coats on the babies and on my big boy, and we all go outside to meet the crew that Anson and Roan walk to school with.

We divide as a family, Anson and Roan going their separate ways, and the babies ready for their first nap of the day. At 9:00 am, I sit on the couch and have my own breakfast, in silence and it is a most euphoric feeling to be surrounded by no activity and no noise. By 9:13 I’m done and kind of miss the babies already. At 10:00 am, they wake up and we’re off again.

This is not how I thought great mornings would play out when I was younger. Great mornings didn’t really start until noon back then. Amazing to me how we can change – and how we will continue to change. What are your mornings like?

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By Jodi, January 13, 2012 9:26 AM

Thinking it’s time to show you the flying circus in motion. Enjoy! (Music by The Roots: Lovely Love My Family)

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By Jodi, January 11, 2012 9:07 AM

I was talking to my sister Kellene, the oldest and wisest and prettiest and funniest and richest of the Nelson children. ( I mean, if I’m going to point out that she’s the oldest I’ve got to add some other superlatives, right? Let’s move on.) So we’re speaking about our children, mine still teeny-tiny and hers all grown and out of the house. After raising four kids I have to hand it to Kellene. She knows what she’s talking about. And she threw this out to me in our conversation:

Everyone thinks they need to stay home with kids when they’re babies. But I think it’s way more important to be home when they’re teenagers. That’s when you need to be there. That’s when they can do real damage.

And it hadn’t really occurred to me until this conversation how terribly hard it must be to parent a teenager. Right now, my bag of problem-solving tricks include using either a nap, a snack, an extra hug, or just some simple conversation with one or two easy promises (an extra 5 minutes added to bedtime, a few minutes taken off required reading time, etc.) And my problem-solving rate is 100%. Right now, I can fix pretty much everything for my boys. It’s like magic.

Methinks these techniques aren’t going to work on teenage Roan, Smith and Sheppard.

I hope I’ll grow to know what they need as they grow and figure out who they are. But how scary it must be to have the “mom-magic” taken away by their awareness that the world is tough, and that they have to figure out their own answers sometimes. And that sometimes there are no easy answers. Or right answers. And that I don’t have the answer for them either.

I mean, honestly that terrifies me a little.

So hats off today to all the parents who have teenagers in their home. I can’t imagine the energy and love it must take, to stand next to your kids who just five minutes ago were innocent enough to believe you could fix everything always. And those parents who now have to watch your teenager struggle to make the world make sense to them, and find their place in it. Those parents who now just have to stand next to their child, unable to protect them from the force of the blows that come along with growing up.

And since I have not walked that path yet, I have no advice other than what I’ve heard from my old(est) sister. Just be there, be present, and stay focused on your kid who actually may need some of the same approaches you used to use: an extra hug, some ice-cream, and conversation. Perhaps it’s not so different from when they were babies? Except they will have to find their own answers, and you will have to listen a little bit closer. And you will be the one to pick them up when they screw up. And you will be the one to help them walk again.

I suppose all the skills we cut our teeth on with our babies translate into the ones we need with our older kids. What do you say? Have you been there? Is it harder? Easier? What advice do you have for me?

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By Jodi, January 5, 2012 10:38 AM

[Congratulations to Kathryn C. who won our Tea Collection Giveaway!! And thank you to everyone who entered! The level of participation was way beyond what I expected. Loved it! ]

An Idiot Abroad, and One at Home

Ricky, Karl, and Stephen

With a foundation set where Roan effectively and responsibly self-regulates what he watches on TV, I’ve been somewhat freed up in having to force limits on what we can watch as a family. If it’s inappropriate, Roan will have nothing to do with it.  However. Over the holiday break, our family was introduced to an awesome series called “An Idiot Abroad“. This series is hysterical, and even maybe educational (?). In a nutshell, Ricky Gervais and Stephen Merchant send their friend Karl Pilkington to visit each of the Seven Wonders of the World. Karl is reluctant to try new things, and not terribly open to new experiences, cultures, or lifestyles. Hilarity (at Karl’s expense) ensues. The show is broadcast on Sky, which is (as far as I can tell) a major British network. The show has some language peppered throughout it that could be a deal-breaker with Roan, but none of it is used in a vulgar way. Typically poor Karl is just describing something awful that just happened to him (again), and has no other choice than to drop an F-bomb here and there.

I checked-in with Roan and found he was ok with that. I was too, again – because it was more conversational and not at all mean-spirited or angry or vulgar. Context is everything, no?

But my liberal tendencies were put to the test with one episode. And I’m still thinking: did I Parent-Succeed or Parent-Fail? I’ve been able to rationalize that it was all good, no problem and that I am still on Santa’s Nice list. But I’d love to hear what you think (as long as you agree with me.) (Kidding.) (Ok, not really kidding, I mean, wouldn’t it be nice if everyone told me how inspiring and inspired my decisions are? But I kind of think I’m not going to get that this time.)

While watching an episode where Karl is sent to Brazil to visit the Cristo Redentor statue. He also is lucky enough to be visiting during Carnaval. In the opening sequence, Karl expresses discomfort with gay men, and asserts that he has no interest in being in crowds on the beach. And of course, he is subsequently put in a situation where his guide is a gay man who leads him to a crowded beach. It’s all well and good with Roan, Anson and me eating dinner and laughing at Karl ha ha ha he’s sweating but won’t take off his shirt ha ha ha poor Karl but that guy has to learn to adapt! It’s funny and he’s a good sport and then suddenly those Brits surprise the Nelson Call family by broadcasting Karl on the beach. But now? It’s a nudist beach.

Full-on.

And the conservative mom in me is all:

“Eh….I don’t think this is appropriate….”

And then the cool chick in me is all:

“Eh, lighten up Grandma. It’s not sexual at all, just naked people walking around on a beach. Human bodies are not offensive.”

And then I look to Anson for his read and he’s just looking back at me all blank-canvas style. Then offered this helpful gem:

“It’s no different than watching National Geographic….?”

It actually is wildly different, so I move on to Roan with a nonchalant:

“So. There are a bunch of penises on our TV. Heh. Don’t see that every day! OH! Say, a vagina! Hmmmmm….how’s your dinner?”

And Roan was a little giggly and then we all had a pretty good laugh at Karl’s reaction to being on a nude beach and his use of the word  ”knob” and then the scene changed and it was over.

But did I do the right thing in letting it play out? Or should I have turned the TV off?  Honestly, I think it might not be that big of a deal. Watching naked people having a day on the beach will probably not turn Roan into any type of psychotic weirdo. I mean, probably the worst part of it was me getting all up in everyone’s grill about is this ok is this ok is this ok is this ok? That probably will turn Roan into a psychotic weirdo. Poor kid.

And yes, we’re continuing to watch the series. While it’s clearly not intended for children, it is a brilliant introduction to other cultures, and the Seven Wonders of the World. It’s also a very realistic portrait of how strange cultures and customs are exactly that: strange to us. It’s totally politically incorrect and definitely offensive to some, but not us. Not really. Ok, maybe a little bit. But it’s a good discomfort. What say you, reader?  Did I Fail? Pass? What would you have done?

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By Jodi, January 3, 2012 10:11 AM

Happy 2012!

Oh Hi!

I know I’m a little lame-o for ending 2011 with no final post, no well wishes and safe admonitions. That’s because my friends, I am utterly unprepared to plan ahead that much. I thought I would do some epic last post, something with video and a soundtrack and fancy word-wrangling but as it turned out I instead ate a whole bunch of food and hung out with my family. I know you understand.

There was a lot of this

The holidays were awesome of course. Kellene and her entire family came to NYC. This trip was made possible by the good folks at Appaman, who let the somewhat large Kellene clan crash at their home while they were off in paradise. We also got to take care of their dog, Party Hat. I nominate Party Hat for best dog name ever. There were activities planned every day and night and so don’t let anyone ever tell you that large Mormon families do not know how to party because party they did.

Party Hat! (In front of our tree, before Sheppard knocked it down with his high chair. So predictable.)

As I am essentially tethered to my neighborhood for the next two years by two babies, I was mostly a spectator, high-fiving my family on their way in and out of each adventure. I did get to go to a performance of “Traces” with them however, which was pretty exciting. It’s a show where a young, extremely fit, and totally talented cast throw their bodies around each other in impossible ways. I do believe in the past I would have simply taken it all in, absolutely amused, and decided on which member of the cast I would date, given the chance. But the tell-tale sign of my age and status in life was clear in my overwhelming urge to ask them all to stop doing such dangerous things because I was truly worried about their safety.

These boys will not be allowed to join the cast of "Traces".

I’m so totally lame. Yet I can crack myself up to no end…as I photo-bombed my niece’s picture with one of the cast members who we stalked/followed into a Bodega outside of the performance. He’s deadly handsome, she’s super cute, and the Auntie in the background? Lame! But funny! (?) This picture made me laugh for a full five minutes. Join me. Laugh at me. I’m the dumbest.

Beauty and the Dumb

New Year’s Eve was spent with Roan, Anson and me taking a low-key dinner together at a local restaurant. We all wrote on napkins what our hopes were for the upcoming year. I guess I’ve arrived at a zen-state, where all my hopes seem static. All I can seem to hope for is health and well-being of my family. The worry that I need other things has disappeared over the years. I’m not so enlightened that I don’t want certain luxuries and such, but they’re not what I hope for.

Hope + Anchor, Roan + Me, New Year's Eve 2011

So what about you? How were your holidays? What are your new hopes? Plans for change? Resolutions to keep things the same? Isn’t the world supposed to end soon? That’s a broad spectrum of questioning to get some feedback – talk to me.

[Reminder: Tomorrow is the last day to enter the Tea Collection Clothing $100 giveaway. Do it because I really want you to win!]

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By Jodi, December 22, 2011 9:43 AM

If I could be all be honest here, I would just admit that in my wee little-girl heart I’d have appreciated the opportunity to create a baby girl for one pure reason. Girl’s clothes are much much much more fun then boy’s clothes. The bows and ruffles, combined with the occasional tank-girl spike or skeleton or biker boot or off-the-rails cute pattern? I mean. Come on. And the boys get….

a football

or a baseball

or a funny-face rhino/lion/other cartoonishly masculine-type animal.

Bah.

There are exceptions. As luck would have it, the boys I have invented are living in a time where Garanimals are not our only option. For every ten amazing lines that specialize in girl’s clothing, there is one amazing line that gets the boy’s right.  And lucky me, I know who they are. In my ongoing quest to assist my most fashionable and style-conscious  son Roan in his mission to keep the world cool, I want you  to know about the clothing line called Tea.

Full on truth: Tea has been one of my favorite lines to dress my boys in for years. The shirts are stupid soft, and I mean that in the smartest way possible. The pants fit like a dream and have thus far withstood rigorous crawling, falling and rolling. And my little-Jodi-girl heart is satiated because these are pieces that get my “awwwww….so cute…..” going. The girl’s clothes are equally adorable. Maybe even more adorable. But let’s speak more of boys, yes?

From the colors Tea uses, to the basic cool stripe patterns, I’m pretty sure everyone would dig this line. The details kill me. I cannot even begin to describe how cute the pin-stripe pants are on little Smitty – he looks like such a gentleman. And the reinforced knee area is just what Sheppard  (a.k.a. “Tank”) needs while perfecting his swagger. I would guess that you could choose any piece from any collection, wrap it and give it to your pickiest friend-with-a-baby and emerge a hero gift giver.

Really. I mean it. And so:

Happy Holidays Readers! Tea has agreed to give a $100 gift card to one of you. They have something amazing for your little guys – baby through big kid (up to size 12), and also have a women’s line if you want to keep it for yourself (or give it to your special lady friend). Ok ok ok I give in – they also have the most amazing girl’s clothes. So let’s keep this easy. I love the idea of someone winning this who really wants to win. So you can enter  daily for the next two weeks, in a bunch of ways. If that’s your style – get to it. If you wanna roll the dice only once, baby that’s cool and get to it this one time. (I’m using this new sweepstakes format below. Seems cool. Tell me if you hate it.)

(I am not being paid for this review – but Tea was most excellent enough to send outfits for the boys! Like what you see? Check out their site and find some for you + yours!)

a Rafflecopter giveaway

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By Jodi, December 19, 2011 9:06 AM

December 19, 2003

It is indisputable, it is like blue sky and gravity. The most profound change in my entire way of thinking, relating and being happened the day Roan was born. I don’t know if it is this way for everyone, but a primal switch was flipped in me and it absolutely altered who I was.

Mother.

Slobbery and sweet

Mohawk'd at an early age.

Being a mother is as common as leaves and sand and trees but such a supercharged superpower. Ever since Roan’s eyes looked into my eyes, I have literally been transfixed by all of its dimensions and meanings. Being Roan’s mother has carved my identity as an individual, as a person who can love, and as a woman so acutely, while at the same time it has softened my rough sharp unkind parts. They are all still there, part of who I am, but other things are more important. And the other things are much much more beautiful.

Rebel Yell

Spin cycle makes Ro happy.

Roan turns eight years old today. I should probably be writing about him and I do feel totally self-indulgent in the telling of how my life has changed but you know? Roan should know. His life, how he is, who he is and all of his complex and informed innocent nuances have brought such joy to his mother. Profound, life-changing unimaginable joy.

To Brooklyn from Utah, starry-eyed.

A Boy and his Beach

Broken arm in the desert of Colorado.

My words could never describe Roan to the world, but I try to write about him as honestly as I can. I hope that in these collected stories here, there is a picture of a childhood being created, and one which will he can access in the future. I have no idea how he will remember his youth or how he sees this world. But I see Roan, and  he is free, simple, complicated, wildly empathetic, funny, daring, sensitive and just one of the most beautiful creatures that I could ever hope to spend time with.

Angelic

I love you Roan, happy eight birthday.

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By Jodi, December 16, 2011 9:52 AM

Just to be clear, because this all could be taken the wrong way, I am entirely enamored with my sons because of their sweet funny smells, the goofy light in their eyes, the unending list of ways they need me, and the way their arms fit exactly perfectly on my body in a hugging situation.

Their looks, regardless of if you think they’re beautiful or just plain funny looking, are of little concern to me.

However.

There is something that makes me smile when I see them in a catalogue or on a retail chain wall. It’s just so crazy to see my ragtag crew out in the public forum. So. Unapologetically (sort of…did that kind of smack of being apologetic…?) I’m sharing Smitty’s latest and greatest conquest, Dwell Studio Catalogue. First: I love this line, and have for years. Second: Smith had the time of his life being shot for this. He was in a giggling mood, and they caught that silly kid. I received this in the mail yesterday and just couldn’t love it more (Smitty scored the back cover, as well as a smattering of inside shots – I’m dying):

Dwell Studio Catalogue

I'm pretty sure Roan taught him this pose

And not to be outdone, the Roan + Sheppard photo shoot for H&M is still rolling, as are the sightings. I received this email from Jesse in Denmark (the land of my people!) last night. I LOVE GETTING THESE. Roan digs it the most when he gets emails from around the world. It’s like a dream come true for a kid. So thank you to everyone who has sent me sightings – and keep them coming. You’re bringing many smiles to this family.

Hi there,

I love reading your blog (It’s real!) so I thought I would send this along.  I saw your post about your son’s modeling for H&M and the subsequent find in Tokyo.  Thought he’d be excited to see that he is also sprucing up the walls at the H&M in Copenhagen, Denmark!

Awesome!

Jesse

Sheppard + Roan in Denmark.

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