For those who haven’t figured it out yet, I’m Mormon.
Or, more accurately, I’m a member of the Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints. “Mormon” is just a nickname.
The last two days have been our semi-annual General Conference. This is where the leaders of our church present talks for the general membership of our church to watch (in person, on TV, online or via satellite at the local church), listen to or read later.
One of the speakers mentioned the fact that many uninformed members of the general public still think we are associated with the practice of polygamy. Nope, sorry folks. Nothing to see here. Move along. That was a limited practice that ended a long, long, long time ago.
But it got me thinking.
My guy friends in high school got silly smiles on their faces at the thought of polygamy: a different wife for each of your different “needs.” Spunky or sultry? Blonde or brunette? Tall and thin or short and curvy? I think they imagined it like a cafeteria where you just pick and choose whatever you’re in the mood for that day.
Reality check, boys. It would be a new emotional drama every night. PMS or pregnancy hormones? Depression or anxiety? Money requests for those cute little black shoes or that cute little black dress?
And the kids. Mama mia! I have three children that fill an entire two story home full of noise. To quote the Grinch: “Oh the noise noise noise noise!” Just imagine if you had 30 kids running around, chasing, screaming, taking toys from each other, and needing the poopie diaper changed. No thank you, my friend. And the theory of “all the moms help each other” makes me just think, “How many cooks CAN you fit in the kitchen?”
Of course, if you turn it around, it makes perfect sense. One woman and let’s say five husbands? Much better. Being practical, I’d choose them by profession. A teacher, a lawyer, a businessman, a physician and a computer scientist. The first four are practical—the last one I threw in because I *heart*
Let’s say your kid is getting bullied at school. Well, first he talks to Dad #4 on the phone: the physician, who tells him exactly how to take care of the black eye. Then he calls Dad #2: the lawyer, who starts writing up the preliminary papers to sue the socks off the bully’s parents. Then Dad #3: the businessman, who drives the bully’s parents’ business into the ground. Then Dad #1: the teacher, who explains the important life lessons that can be learned in “times like these.”
And, for good measure, Dad #5: the computer scientist can download information from numerous websites detailing how to handle bullying while simultaneously uploading a virus onto the bully’s computer that will wipe out his term paper and replace it with the words, “I Must Not Be A Bully” 1,000 times.
Okay, maybe that’s overkill.
Come to think of it, the current system seems to work just fine.