Mama say knock you out.

We went swimming yesterday and this could be a post about how I took control with my super teacher cape (annoying to all around me I am sure) and busted (or burst??) a cap in an almost or past student of mine.


Cause I have done that.




Probably on your kid.



Not so sorry, cause it takes a village I have heard.







But is isn't. Instead it is a sad post of a era gone by.

As i rounded the corner from swimming I saw the most horrible sight. Ruined some of my childhood memories and I stole a piece of rubble for posterity. And I stole a pic from Marci Ashton ( I hope that is ok if not please tell me if it makes you feel weird/mad/sad) cause I didn't have my camera and I am afraid if I go back today I won't get the same pic.

I remember kindergarten in Mrs. Ladendorff's?? room wishing I was in Mrs. Herring's cause she had the cool toys. I remember the gym and drinking from the water fountain and being teased by By and Bob- and walking home from school. After we moved to Texas I held onto these memories and others to keep me close to "home" St. Johns.

I have been in denial that they were really going to do this. I thought surely they would find the money and desire to remodel this part of history. BUT NO instead they built us a beautiful new bribe library. I love the bribe, but it won't take my heart from the old Pioneer. Why are we a society of throwing things away?, instead of taking to heart "Use it up, wear it out, make do or do without"

couldn't we have made do?

I know I am sentimental about this and it was probabally a huge fire trap.

Jewish Guilt

LAST NIGHT SCENARIO:

The kids: at granma's sleeping over. (not the baby perma-attached to my side)

Me: waiting for a semi-adult night of conversation, movies and ?

Him: ???

I made chicken fried steaks for the first time last night. Was ok to me. But then, I could eat most anything.

We put in a movie and started to watch. As the movie played out I noticed Mr S getting sleepier and sleepier-finally falling into an every so slight snore. I finished out the movie. But here is the twist.

I started getting mad at Mr S because of what was going on in the movie. What a jerk. (me, not him). They were talking about marriage and the lack of freedom a man has and how he will have to lie (stretch the truth ) sometimes (often) to have a free moment to himself.





All I could think (grr) about was, where is the free time for the the mom? I am so tied down that even if I wanted a free moment I have anxiety (guilt) while I am gone that I should be home.





Does anyone else feel that way from time to time? (a lot)

I think maybe you've got the wrong gal

The other day I decided it was time for a nap. For ME. I try to stick to my school time schedule so that my body doesn't go into to shock come mid August, but today I needed that boost.


So I did, until a phone call came. It was a previous student looking for advice. (FROM ME? , yea I was curious about that too. )


She was on the outs with her mom and reconciliation did not look emanate. So I was replace-a-mom for a few hours. And after talking about cabbages and kings, we got down to business. We discussed what you do when you're married and aren't planning for kids, but one might be on the horizon.


Thank goodness she had mostly made up her mind. I just stuck my two or three sense in, or is it cents? I don't know which.



The thing that got me in the whole conversation is, she kept repeating "I just wanted advice from a mature, older woman."



SO, this I want to know,



when did 35 become so old? Who am I, "Ma" from the Golden Girls? I think maybe she got the wrong gal.

The Mad Rooster

When I was 5 my dad in his infinite wisdom decided to move us from here:

to here:

New Boston was the closest town to our new farm, "St. Johns" if you will-county seat and all. Fortunately, I was blessed to live in their version of "Concho". For those of you who don't know what that means, I lived in Malta (the armpit of New Boston).

Anyway, back to the story. We were chicken farmers! Complete with chicken houses, 100 acres of ponds, grasses to your chest, a stink that hung around on a rainy day, and one ancient junkyard in the back ( I guess people there just let the vegetation cover their junk instead of taking it to the dump). We roamed and played; finding entertainment and snakes and junk when 3 channels ( ABC, CBS and NBC) couldn't.

Each chicken cycle would bring an eventful day, when, if we were lucky, would be home from school to see. The day the baby chicks were picked up to take to Pilgrims Pride. They would bring 18 wheelers, crates by the dozens, and loaders with drivers who didn't speak English. Time after time they would load up the chickens and pack them away-squaking and feathers flying in the air. Invariably 3- 5 were always left behind.

We would stock our chicken coop with the left overs. Nothing eventful ever came of doing that until one spring.

As always we took what was left and this time included a white rooster.

In his homemade coop with the other chickens, he lived a chicken king's life. We, the Butler kids, were in charge of feeding them and other barn chores. I remember walking down to do chores. The rooster would walk, (stalk) his prey; strutting his know-it-all chicken strut, ever coming closer and closer to us- the dancing, nervous kids. We would hop on one foot and the other trying to swallow down screams, pushing each other closer to him away from ourselves.

With quick flaps he would rise off the ground and fling his whole body at us. Feathers and kids would race each other to see which left the pen first. As often as not, some little kid's behind would be his prize. We were pecked in the legs, the behind, the flailing hands. Screaming and yelling, we would vow to never come back.

Until we were forced to do chores again.

It was during this time that I started to actively volunteer to baby sit Nikki instead.

"Mad rooster, Mad ROOSTER'"

could be heard every evening as chores were quickly done.

"Mad Roo-STER!!"

we would scream each time we were chased. The rooster was a demon. He would stalk us. He would look at us with knowing eyes. He would hid until we came into target rage. He took on the personality of the devil himself; his coxcomb -shiny devil red, his eyes glowed with embers of hate, his tail was forked and pointy. We believed he dreamed up ways to catch us and torment us daily.

It was so bad that we became puddles of tears and pleas. My dad, at first didn't listen I am sure. As time wore on, it was apparent that this rooster aka the demon hated us kids with a passion. He ruled the barn and our nightmares.

One day we loaded up the horse trailer and couldn't get the Mad Rooster to leave his trailer- the devil's living room. For he had taken to hiding there to surprise unsuspecting loitering kids.

We had no choice but to take him with us. We figured, he would either get kicked by the horses on our way to the fairgrounds or not. We unloaded and found that evil never dies. We saddled up and as we were waiting to ride in the arena, we noticed the Mad RooSTer leaving. He strutted to a adjacent coop and joined his new flock.

"Yea, the Mad ROOsteR is GONE!, YEA" we chanted as we road away. The devil had a new home.

Recently we bought chicks to have fresh eggs. I love/hate them. I make my kids change the water and food- pick them up as needed. They will be the ones to gather the eggs for evil never dies.

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;)

The Bed to myself and can't sleep

At precicely 3:05 this morning the scream of a baby woke me. I startled and jumped out of bed because even in my sleep induced (was I snoring?, cause I have done that a lot lately and woke myself up) comam her scream didn't sound like a rustle in the middle of the night.



It was.



I found a binky in her bed after wandering around the house looking for it. Went back to bed to lie there until 3:47. I got on the computer to blog. At 4:30 I saw the beginning of day and for the next few minutes I watched the barely perceptable dawn bloom. Athough no one in her right mind should be up blogging and watching the day unfold; it is my favorite time of the day. If I wasn't so tired all the time I would do this everyday.



I should have been sleeping; I had the bed to myself.

More respect

It must be satan working overtime on our family. Sicne I decided to have more respect in our home, we now have less of it. I don't even know what to do-expect go back to the basics AGAIN. Family home evening topic? Respect (and testimonies/fasting which appearently my kids have no clue what they are)