You can count how many seeds are in an apple, but you can’t count how many apples are in a seed.
Over the last 3 years, The Teenager has been going through a lot of struggles and trials. I have mentioned it in some degrees, but it was hard. Harder than anyone knew. I felt so alone through it all, and Sunday, I realized why.
When my children were little and I was struggling with them, I knew there were many other mothers I could go to for advice. Not sleeping through the night? Potty training struggles? Biting? Diarrhea and vomiting? I knew all I had to do was ask and there would be plenty of other women who could help me. I even became part of an email loop of other SAHM moms, and we would whine and complain to each other and we would feel so much better.
But when I was struggling with The Teenager, I couldn’t go to anyone. His trials were personal to him, and it’s not something that you broadcast publicly. I talked to my mom some, but I kept a lot from her as well. I could talk to my husband, but but he didn’t have the answers, and he was gone all day (and most nights). I couldn’t talk to my email loop moms because none of them are LDS and don’t have the same standards as us, so they wouldn’t understand what the big deal was.
I was very isolated. And I made it worse because I withdrew. I quit going to Relief Society activities, mainly because it was too hard to put on a happy face and pretend that everything was fine. It was a very lonely period in my life. I would cry during the day and then put on a happy face when I was around others. I prayed a lot, and that definitely helped, but it’s not the same. I desperately wanted someone to talk to, to cry with, to comfort me.
But there wasn’t anyone.
A missionary is someone who spends time away from his loved ones so someone else can spend eternity with theirs.
The word pink dates back to the 1570s, when to pink was to create a small cut or perforation, such as on a decorated edge (think pinking shears).
The story of pink’s link to color is an incredible story of linguistic conversion. That’s the concise way to say the word started out as a verb, became a noun, and, after that, an adjective.
The Dutch associated pinck oogen, “small eyes,” with the small, delicate flowers of the carnation, whose petals look distinctly perforated or crimped. This lead to pink’s association with two more ideas: the color of the flower and the idea of the flower as perfection. Perfection is what Shakespeare’s Mercutio is referring to in Romeo and Juliet when he says, “Nay, I am the very pink of curtesie."
At the point where scholars pinpoint the first attribution of pink as a color, around 1681, people could not stop talking about it. In Elizabethan England, pink hose were all the fashion for men. Fortunately, Sumptuary Laws which determined the color of clothing people wore by their social status, made pink available to both the upper and lower classes.
In the 1920s pink started to be used for the marketing of products for boys. The color association was considered appropriate for boys, full of energy, not yet mature enough for the full heat of the color red. Conversely, baby blue was associated with girls as a soft, mild color, and one strongly associated with the Virgin Mary. Post-WWII these associations switched, with pink directed at products for girls and blue for boys
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