Reaching out to others when your own problems are great

There IS a reason I am compassionate service coordinator.
If you know me, you know why I have that calling.

I know why.

I am not getting blessings today or any other day on this particular service. I don't think the family needs it. Yes, I know, who am I to judge. I am judge and so I will get no blessings.

Good thing Christ is not like the soup Nazi on Seinfield. "NO SOUP FOR YOU"
I would never get the "soup" of life. I keep trying to remember what Brother Bednar spoke about when he was here for stake conference. Among other great gems, he said how Christ would always reach out to others around him and minister to their smaller scale problems. I have had things in my life both long term and short term that were so hard for me. I ended up doing it "alone". Like the 6 weeks when my back was out. The first week I just had to bite the bullet and go to work in so so much pain. I cooked every night. I hated it and never got help.
And so I judge others' pain by my own, only allowing compassion to those whom I deem struggling.
I am bad. I deserve my calling.
I am struggling today - this week -this particular assignment. I feel so guilty , but when I pray I feel my Saviors love and, more importantly, understanding of how much I struggle giving compassion to those around me.

And then I get a little compassion myself despite of my bad attitude. My hubby is bring me a rt. 44 strawberry limeaide from sonic.

And that is why I love him.

What it takes to lose the last 10 lbs.

You should really go and read trainer momma at the bottom of my page. I have been trying to loose a couple of inches if I get the last 10 or 15 lbs off i wouldn't complain.

I didn't like what she had to say because it was so hard hard hard. :(

It will test all that I have in me to do it, but I have been trying to get it off for 2 years so her suggestions are welcome.

A Father's Day to Die For

I am not so good at doing the whole over the top recognition of events. Heck, I don't even recognize. (I once worked for a builder who thought it was a great moral builder to sing and have a company dance with a big yellow dancing chicken and pins and Crap... it was painful and I am glad I had the experience so that teaching was so much more appealing than that well paying job)


And so it was Father's day. I had bought Mr Darcy gifts- which we didn't give him because I thought that the shirts we now dumb and would be

 A. mocked or B. not worn.
 neither of the options I wanted to face. BTW- I am a crappy gift buyer/giver too. What a great combo in a wife and mom.

I did LET Mr D sleep in (he does what he wants).

I did make him his favorite breakfast- but I had to substitute sausage for bacon because I will not pay 6 $ at Wilbur's for bacon AND... we were out of potatoes so the hash browns were missing from the favorite breakfast. So, you could say, I didn't let him starve.

I warmed up his burrito from the night before and brought it to him to eat (which I would have normally done)

I did let him go to church and ditch out after sacrament. I didn't make him take the father's day gifts.

I did let him go to Home depot to buy the rest of the supplies for our door that due to the flood of '10, had stopped shutting and would blow open unless you put bricks behind it.

I did let him pick the restaurant to eat at and then suggest Native New Yorker and then be mad at the prices and the quality of food. (I was mad not him)

I did let him finish out the door he started the day before so that snakes wouldn't crawl in.

I did applaud him when he finished around 10.

It might be more of a day than I got.

 I got to make my own Mother's day dinner, take the kids to church by myself while Hubs worked overtime. I feel bad about his day. I am a dud. :)

I am as fearless as a .... Chicken

Yesterday afternoon I went into the local drs office to get the second round of my back shots- Prolo-therapy. I was fearless. I had spoken to Tobi O earlier about the same shots and she said the more aggressive the shots are the better they work.

I am A- FRAID of shots, needles, and scary liquid that burns/hurts/feels weird.  I think I am the only adult in SJ that has gotten kicked out of a blood drive for being a baby, but I was determined. After sitting in the waiting room for an hour ( even went home gave a kid a hair cut and came back)  and waiting in the room for another 45 minutes. (Can we reschedule you? No, these are monthly shots, I can't wait) I saw the dr. I tried to be short and sweet because I had waited so long.

I was fearless.

Until the shots came.

 I started sweating.

Why did they turn off the air?  Was the room getting smaller? No? Just ME? Huh...

 I began doubting my ferocity. As I lay on my back, I was thinking about the flab around the middle as my lower back and upper bum was exposed. Thinking about my flab kept my mind occupied until I jumped at the pin pricks. My mind swung back and forth from those two thoughts like Tarzan traveling on vines.
 It really wasn't bad, I guess. The needle felt like sticking a sewing pin into your bum, hip, and back. The serum was weird like hitting your funny bone or knee cap. But once in a while they felt as if they were hitting a nerve-bad. But this time he found the root of my back pain and went for it.
I told him I changed my mind about the aggressive nature of the shots. He chuckled,and said he could do a third syringe If I wanted.

Ugghh. Nope, I am good. And with that, I was out of there at 5:19-two hours later from the time I first walked in.

 I will see him next month. I will pretend to want the same level of aggressive, but this morning as my back and hip are sore from the 15 shots, I am not sure I can be fearless.  It is more like the chicken who crossed the road. She did it to get away from the needles.

Walking on Sunshine

So, I said I would get to Sunday and so I am trying to keep my word. I should have posted that day, as the high and feelings of euphoria have worn off by the cares of the world. I almost can't remember why it was so good. So, now this post will be less awe inspiring that I thought it might be as I drove home on Sunday afternoon.

Went to church on Sunday not really wanting to go. Feeling blahh. Left Scott it bed b/c he had worked 90.5 hours in a week! Felt sorry for him and was busy that I didn't nag him to get up 10 times; it was 10 til 9 and so just left him sleeping.

Sat in church and heard from the cutest exchange student. I have admired her from afar for this whole year. It is really true that Brazil makes the prettiest girls. She didn't seem LDS, but had enjoyed and appreciated the values of her host family. She was so sincere.

Then Cookie Overson gave a talk on reading the scriptures everyday; giving examples from her own life that just hit the spot and were so appropriate for the situation. ( It didn't hurt that I was ready to hear what she had to say).

She said 2 things that struck me so profoundly. I only hope that I can write them so that someone gets the same "OHH" feeling I did that day sitting on the not so comfy pew.

• To misquote her she said something like "Truth needs to be repeated many times" I thought about that as I thought about my hit and miss attitude on reading the scriptures. I re-remembered that the same passage means different things to me as I amin different stages of maturity and need in my life.
• That she reads EVERYday and she noticed in herself when she didn't. I thought about the things I am going through and how I need the better "me" to react in those situations. The better me can only come through repeatedly seeking the truth and getting my moral compass to point to true NORTH again.

Then we got a lesson on forgiveness. Among the ideas I took away from this was :

• that forgiveness is for the person who was offended more than it is for the offender. You don't need to tell someone that you forgive them to do so and for it to be complete. Forgiveness is like a bridge that will help you cross the sometimes HUGE chasm that gets in the way of our relationship with God.
• IF we don't forgive then we have similar people and situations placed in our lives over and over again until the WHOLE lesson is learned the way God knows we need. I was reminded of the 3-4 people that have TrUeLy angered me in my life and they all do the same thing to/for me. I have yet to learn that lesson; and until I do more and more people in my life will be there as a teaching tool in forgiveness. (among other lessons)
• I have slowly grown to love the teacher giving the lesson; looking back at her qualites over the 5 years I have know her, she is everything I wish I was. I was jealous of her qualities, never feeling that Icould live up to her reputation. I see now how much I can learn from her. I left the church house doors in quiet contemplation and a overwhelming feeling of cleanliness and euphoria.

(until people nagged me for lunch;)

Bigger than

Can I just complain one little small bit?

(as if I don't do that all the time anyway.)

I must say that I think the only women who were bigger than I, today at the pool were the pregnant moms. And they have a right to be that way.

Hello jr high feelings of inadequacy. Ugghh.

There are bats in my BELFRY!

When we moved into our house a few years ago we knew we bought an "AS IS" house. For starters, it had 5 bedrooms and an office, but none of them could hold even a queen bed and a dresser. The previous owners decided to have a split floor plan, but the master was a mystery. Instead of a nice master, they had 2 small bedrooms and a jack/jill set up for themselves.

And yet, they had like 7 boys, so I always wondered what they did for sleeping arrangements.


We decided to give our kids those bedrooms, and knock walls out on the other end of the house. We ended up with a nice sized master, closet and bath, with a nursery next door.

During that process of remodeling, we had the ceilings torn out; little sparrows could be found in the house from time to time, as well as little droppings as evidence of where they had been in the house. They were disturbing, (picture me screaming, kids screaming, chasing a bird so small it could fly under my pantry door,) but manageable with a broom. We didn't have them after the ceiling was fixed.

Fast forward to the other night when Mr S was working late and I was trying to stay awake. I wanted to hang out with him and have some adult time with no kids playing "who touch who last" to get in our way.

He came home and we were talking and setting down for the night when something dark caught my eye. It could have been a kid coming in to say there was pee in a bed, throw-up on the floor or vague headaches.

BUT

NO

There was this HUGE fluttering through the door and then it was gone. That was immediately followed by screaming on my part and sneering at my screaming on Mr. S's part.

"It's just a BIRdd," he said, his voice dripping with annoyance, and no amusement. He then tried to roll over and go to sleep.

I was not satisfied with that explanation. It could have been a ghost, ya know. or a robber. The wing span on it was as long as BoTH of my Arms! I crept down the hall, looking around apprehensively "just in case it attacked me".

I

Found

A


BAT!!

hanging on a ledge in my family room. UGGhh. I shut the doors to the kids room and jumped back in bed, leaving our door open so I could hear kids cry.

As I was falling asleep in the dark house, cuddled next to Mr. S for protection., my head was under the covers, in case it came back in and got tangled in my hair.

I have seen Indiana Jones, I know how creepy bugs and things can come after you. ( well me) I could hear its creepy sonar sounding as it tried to find its way in the dark... "uggghh,rabies and germs" was one of the last thoughts I had before I fell asleep.

Later,

I was awakened by a plastic sounding ThUmP.

In the morning, the bat was no where to be found. But Mr S said that it had flown back into our room and fluttered around his head a few times.

(Ha, I say. and I told you)

He said he threw a plastic hair thing of mine at where he thought it might have flown.

Disturbed at not finding it, after careful inspection of all the rooms, I decided it had flown out of an air return that was loose in our hallway...


or


maybe it was still lurking in my house...

Talking to myself, or am I?

Talking to myself has always been an activity I am used to: ie.


ME: "Turn to page 514 where we left off on line 20...."

"What page are we on?"

ME: "We are on page 514, line 20"

"What page is it, Mrs. Scarbrough?"

ME: "514, if you were listening the last two times"

"OH,"

"Hey, Mrs. Scarbrough, what page are we on?"

ME: "It's on the board, where if you would look everyday, you would know what we are doing."

"Where?"

ME: "UHH, sighh"

As you can see, I am good at talking to no one. :)

I have been talking to myself for 10 years, but more specifically, I have been having an ongoing monologue for 6.5 months with the cutest of persons.

I describe flowers, dogs, colors of the hay and horses. I tell her that what she is feeling is rough or fuzzy. I repeat the colors of the blankets, the sky, and the toys. I think teaching has prepared me to not even notice or mind that I do all the talking, in hopes someone is listening.

Already I am getting the "ma-ma, mmmm, Maaaa," much to the delight of my kids. They think her first word will be mama.


I think she will have much to say, just not right now.

I can wait. She is our last I want to enjoy ever little sticky, snotty, nuance that she has to offer.

No Pinching, Plu-eeze

I am not a fan of dressing up show off on any occasion. When it comes to St .Partick's Day, in some ways it is worse. I am not Irish. I can't say "Kiss ME, I am Irish". I don't drink...

I don't look good in goofy outfits. They are bad news. The more foolish -the worse, I say. I love Halloween, but hate to dress up. I know, what an oxymoron I am . Maybe I am just a moron?

Who




knows.


Anyway, this lack of exuberant festing all things silly goes for all holidays. I don't wear the light up Santa shirts or bell earrings, I don't like the heart socks on Valentines day and

I don't like to wear green on St. Patrick's day.

Forget about the tall GREEN pimp hats that have cropped up like weeds at the local Dollar store. Ugg, I won't buy those on sale in a week ,no way.

And yet, PinChing?

so much
worse.



Especially if those pinches are near my BeHind area. In fact, pinching, slapping, goosing, patting AND (oh so the WORST, bouncing) my flabby hind end is OFF LiMitS.



You want to make me upset? Try doing any of those things to the jelly-cause-jam-don't shake -like-that posterior.
I conceeded, due to my work place enviroment,

TO wear olive green. but I wore an orange hoodie (it matches, just trust me).

AND?

I still got pinched!!! The first thing in my grouchy morning- how is that for irony?

Pink Shirt- a copy cat post

After reading on someone else blog about her pink shirt, I longed for my own. The one that has carried me through bad days, big belly (baby belly not fatty mc fat fat belly- hey, not my phrase blame Friends and my nephew who spews that phrase all the time) and no laundry washed.
Ugg, anyway... dug for said shirt, and found said shirt at the bottom of my beautiful, unfinished, yet, still abused with unhung clothes ,walk in closet. Oh how I love that shirt and all other shirts that I have bought as spares that do not live up to their reputation as "the pink shirt".

This shirt is so versatile that I have worn it as a cover up to the pool, as a top to my fav blue jean skirt to work and church, on dates, and on cas days. As a disclaimer, I am not a fashionista (spellng???) , so I probably have mis worn said shirt many of time on many of occasions.

I have started to notice signs of dying. Smells that I think might still be there after a wash, mysterious "greasy" spots, stretching, shrinking, "see-through-ness" It breaks my heart. What if I can't find another PINK shirt? The right one doesn't just come along every day at the Dollar Store? 'Cause believe me I have looked, I keep an eye peeled for a sister for my pink shirt.

And so as Spring springs, I will be out there pounding the pavement looking, looking for the Perfect Pink Shirt.
However, I will not retire the original PPS until she decides she can't take the wear and tear of a life called Scarbrough.

It is all over but the rat killing

Catchy title wouldn't you say?

I think sometimes my titles are funnier than the posts. But today I am just grateful that I have a big, strong, mouse hunter.

Since we can't have cats, 'cause the dogs get them, and the dogs are too busy chasing the cows to worry about it, and I have slowly, with neck-scratching tippy-toe jumpin' fear, gotten ride of every snake that I see...

I have my own built in mouse trap.

Living in the semi-country that we do, and owning acrage comes with one or two disadvantages. One of them being field mice. Ugg, just thinking about them makes my skin crawl!

But, luckily for me, I have my brave mouse killer. What would I do without him?

Winter, Be Flung

Souldn't say a word, But going to do it anyway.

I think I am having a rought day or two or three. All I can do is complain and be frustrated.

I am tired of cleaning
I am tired of cold
I am tired of tired
and feeling so old



I am tired of so many "nos"
I am tired of me
I am tired of work
and ugly bare trees

Spring has not sprung
Winter, be flung
My white legs need a tan
I need a plan



Hawaii?.... Cabo?.... St. Thomas.... maybe

No Rest for the Wicked, Weary, or the Weary Wicked Mom

Rafter 3jr is going roping

-I know and dare i say it -Again.

But he might be taking rafter 3III with him.

Good deal

let big Daddy handle the fire bug for a while.

And while I dearly love M and J, I wish I could be curled up on the couch with Pride and Prejudice (the book not the movie which I love too), not cooking, Having what I call "Movie Night" defined as a lot of junk and a movie

Being lazy and all that...

But no rest for the Wicked Weary Mom. It is my night to cook... (cold cereal anyone?)

Valentines Day

We woke up early; Scott made breakfast. I am so glad that even when I start breakfast that he ends up finishing it. I know that it is his favorite meal and he cooks it like he wants. Yea for me (yea for him too). We did some chores randomly through out the day.



Along about 1, he says "Do you have a baby sitter" . I wasn't planning on it and was ok with the idea of going out, but was ok staying home,too.



I took that as a hint and started at the last minute getting one. It is so good to have a pool of girls that you see on a daily basis. You can get to know them in such a way that you know how they will be at your house. So if anyone needs reccomendatations just ask me!

Anyway, after searching, i got a girl who was not so comfortable with the baby. I didn't know that before, I should have asked. But it didn't matter anyway, The baby was being a pill and we took her with.

Nothing like Romance with attachments :)

Dinner at Grumy Jakes yummm, Grand Terino (wheww too much cussin'), babysitter home and bed.

Did I mention the phone calls from the movie about Wesie throwing up? 3times. Yea, the sitter earned her extra money that I paid when I got home. Come on, who wants to clean up someone else kid?

Wow no kidding a week. No I am not falling off from Blogging

I looked at my last post and thought "No way?! It has been that long?"

Where has the time gone? I have thoughts all day long about random things; they chase each other around in my mind vying for time and space. (ask Mr Scarbrough and he would say that is why I am crazy) Some times the only way to get them to leave me alone is to set them free- here. Then when I want to think about them again, I come here. It leaves my mind clear to think other thoughts.

And I have been thinking those thoughts, a lot. But if you asked me today what they were, I couldn't tell you most if any of them. They are gone; I am sad that I didn't record them. I can never think about them again.

One thought that has been plaguing me concerns the idea of prayer. I have been in a stupor of thought, almost.

After last week's lesson in church on prayer, I vowed to change, to be different, but change can be hard!It wasn't until I listened to John Patterson's talk this Sunday about the 6th step that I fully captured what I wanted when I vowed to change. I can't do him justice, but if any of you have a chance to talk to him or better yet, attend one of his classes, I suggest it. Maybe it won't jazz you up as it does me. But maybe, it will be a place for a new beginning.

Are you a Jill

If you have ever watch the tv show about Tim the Toolman Tailor, you will know his wife Jill. Among being the only girl in a family of rough boys, she is also famous for being a bad, bad cook.

I am a Jill.

I never knew I was until I married my beloved, Scott. He has informed me of my talent. ( Or lack there of). The funny thing is, I don't think he knows, even after all the times I have told him, that he is a pickey eater. His pickiness has to do with the visual aspect of the food.

Two cases in point: 1. Thursday night when we had pinto beans, brown rice, salad and fry bread for dinner. For starters, I hate, hate plain beans. However, Crazy teacher from 2 years ago gave me a recipe that doesn't suck for beans. It calls for adobo chilies, which I didn't have on hand, so much to the chagrin of my sister Heather's memory who says I always improvise recipes, I improvised. I added a small can of tomato paste and 1/2 a can of el pato. It made the beans thick, a little like chili beans. NOT GROSS, but visually different.

Guess who griped like a 5 year old about it?

Yep,

you guessed it, Scott. I luv him. Really I do.

But he can eat at Corkeys any time he won't eat my cookin'. He did eat it; said it was ok. He even went back for seconds.

If any of you have seen Scott lately, you can tell he is starving from my cooking.

I feel for him.
Really, I do.

I think he will be needing suspenders soon.

Not me this time; thank good-ness

I drove home yesterday. Well, I flew home, like ususal. I always have a good reason for breaking the speed limit. This time, I had to get to the bank before 5 to run an errand for Scott. What I saw when I turned onto my road in the distance were familar, little black shapes...

"oh, crap" I thought, as I squinted down the road. They are out again. "Why does this always happened when I am home alone?" was the next thought. "I think I will go down there, shoot one, skin it, and eat it-raw. That would show him/or her!"

A burgandy surburban "joy riding" (AKA going too slow) ahead of me on the road made me worried that those lovely fence jumpers would be push further down the road so that I would have a harder time hearding them and putting them back in the pasture.

Luckily, not.

As I got closer to the barn, I saw two more of them in with the horses; they had ducked through through the lovely antique (aka broken and worn out) fence we own and were milling around. But,

SURPRISE!! Not ours this time, in your face all the cow complainers! Yaa hoo for me 'cause I was in a hurry.

I thought about all the times ours have been out over the last year while I was pregnant no less, and all the kind and not so kind neighbors who have helped or complained about them respectively to me about them.

(side bar: I wonder what the complainers thought I, who was pregnant, was supposed to do alone about them?And if they were in that other's pasture, why didn't they fix their 1/2 of the fence?, And has anyone heard of that lovely law in AZ about free ranging and grazing?) but I digress...

Therefore, remembering all the times that I had felt overwhelmed, discouraged, and down right mad, I had a spurt of service motivate my legs out the truck door and down the road. I didn't get them all back where they go, but some remembered where they had jumped over and like maniacs with the boogie man after them, jumped back in. I felt good that I had helped my unknow fellow cow owner out.

However, on my drive to the bank, I wondered, should I call the owner of the pasture to let him know about his calves or should I let it go? I hated when people call me instead of Scott. I get left with the clean up work when he isn't home.I enjoyed my few minutes of blissful ignorance before those phone calls.

Maybe he/they?? would like to bask in the bliss today, too.

Roping, again. ZZZ... boring blog day

Scott has gone roping again. He left Wednesday night in a flurry of activity. Ok, really I was the one flurrying and he was the one playing solitaire on the computer. To give him credit, he entertained Kelsey while I ironed and made dinner.

He got himself ready but somehow couldn't be the one to clean out the horse trailer of everyone's stuff. I don't get that. I should have piped up and said something.

He and I didn't connect up much on Thursday except on quick phone call about the funding for the new horse. I was really blessed because I had so much to do Thursday. I didn't want to have to add driving out to the P's ranch on top of all I still had to to when it was 5:30. I found P in the beauty shop! Whoo hoo for me- a two for, save gas and time.

When I talked to K on the phone he was the one who told me P was getting her hair done. He said he was going to drink beer until she came home. I guess you had to be there, but the way he said it struck me as funny at the time.

With all I had to still do: feed kids, feed baby, baths, teeth, Fam prayer, eat, and such I didn't get to feeding the horses until 9. I wanted the baby to be down for the night before I went out.

Thursday night, Fright Night.

I didn't have time to post this earlier so I will now a few days late.

I was again battling sleep on the couch. I remember waking up to a sweaty baby's head and a little mouth sucking. I couldn't remember feeding before and wondered how she figured it out on her own. Never the less, I let her finish eating and put her sweaty little head to bed.

I stumbled to the bathroom, brushed teeth, took out eyes and went to bed.

Sometime in the night i awake to a firm dry hand pressed tightly to my mouth and a warm breath in my ear.

I screamed myself awake

and screamed; my voice was scratch and hoarse.

I felt frozen in bed, weighted down by another body. My heart was pounding....



Scott was laughing in my ear.


He had come home early. I didn't hear him pull up, the squeaky sticky door open or shut.

Ha

very funny.

What Girls' Camp Teaches

I crouched over our fire place at the dawn of my long day, holding a baby in one arm and trying to start a fire for the day with the free hand- balancing on the balls of my feet. I first had to clean out the ashes left by Scott the day before and then start stacking the dry tinder mixed with paper.

Sheesh, there has to be a better way and more efficient. There is- I just forgot my girls' camp lessons.

I remembered last year when Htha B and I had a discussion that turned into a disagreement about what girls should be learning at girls' camp. I am of the opinion that camping is such a great time to learn a variety of skills that invariably will be used at a variety of times during life. Like starting a fat fire quickly that would pass any boy scout test. She said the new program focused on the spiritual.

I am so for the spiritual. Those girls need so much of it today. I over hear things they say and am sad and worried for them. They have a hard row to hoe. However, I wish camp would still teach all the outdoor skills a girl needs. Maybe have 1 a month if they can't fit it in at camp.

I went to one of those camps, but as the leaders changed, so did our adherence to the old camping manual. I learned less and less of the outdoor life skills that I realize I need today.

Everyday.

I didn't know what type of guy I would marry -we all are surprised with that one after the first month. We are a team and have to share in the work load. (Ok, he doesn't share in diapers or dishes and I don't share in the overtime)

I fumble with those forgotten skills weekly.

Wishing I remembered them better.