You say it’s your birthday?

May 9, 2009 by lbutler ♥ 3 Comments

It’s no secret that I love my birthdays. I don’t mind adding another candle to the cake or getting another 12 months closer to Social Security. I just love “my” day. This year was no different, and I had some great plans to celebrate – an extended celebration of sorts.

To properly mark this milestone of 55 years, I set a goal to run a 5K in July. “Everybody” (specifically my young, athletic, in shape, cross country running children) was planning to do it, and I decided I’d get that T-shirt too. I was excited to get in better shape and maybe even drop a few pounds before the May wedding in San Diego. This was going to be awesome!

With great enthusiasm and adequate energy, I embarked on the “Couch to 5K” plan I found on the internet. It seemed to be tailor made for me. The first few weeks were lots of walking interspersed with short intervals of running. The transition to mostly jogging with short intervals of walking was gradual and seemed very doable. Within about 9 weeks I would be running 30 minutes/ 3 miles.

Perfect.

Or maybe not.

Armed with my cell phone for timing (nothing says serious runner like a cellular stop watch), I took to the early morning streets with great determination. Slow and steady I completed the jogging intervals all the while eagerly anticipating the walking segments as a chance to inhale deeply and even out my ragged gasps of breath. Neither rain nor cold could stop me. I was a woman on a mission.

As I should have expected, it wasn’t long before I had to acknowledge that a 55 year old body is a little different than a 25 year old one, and perhaps I was not as physically fit as I had imagined. This was hard work! But I was determined. Pete and Emily reassured me with their stories of entering/re-entering the ranks of runners – pain and discouragement were just part of the drill. People my age run all the time, and I could too.

However, within 3 weeks, reality reared her ugly head, and I was sidelined with knee pain and screaming back muscles. I considered continuing running as the program prescribed using the “no pain – no gain” philosophy. But truthfully, I had visions of re-injuring my surgically repaired ACL, and I was haunted by memories of hours spent in physical therapy. So I quickly decided that running through the pain was just dumb and besides – it really hurt.

Boardmans and Butlers at Dell Swearingen's 40th birthday party - 1985 Invitation said "Come dressed as OLD!"

I was more than a little discouraged and suddenly felt very old. Was there no place for strenuous exercise in my future? Would I simply totter my way through the next 25 years? Was I doomed to working out with old videos of “Sit and Be Fit”? My big birthday looming on the horizon was beginning to feel more like a solemn memorial to lost youth rather than a celebration of what lies ahead.

At this same time, I started reading a book that Carolyn’s doctor recommended, and since we are genetic twins, I figured it was good for me too. And it was.

"You do have to age, but you don't have to rot"

The authors advocate that once you reach age 50, you have a new job – exercising vigorously every day for the rest of your life. They offer 7 rules, but the two that really got my attention are:

1. Exercise six days a week for the rest of your life

5. Quit eating crap!

Well, I can do that. So I revamped my goals. Instead of running a 5K in July, I changed my focus to keeping the next third of my life as healthy – or even more so – than the first two-thirds. Vigorous (but not life threatening) exercise coupled with consistency seem to be a much better fit for me than a crash course in running. Sore muscles the morning following a good workout with weights is far more appealing than crippling back pain.

So now early mornings will find me on the eliptical – outfitted with a heart rate monitor, a taped episode of Oprah, and a water bottle. As the weather gets nicer I’ll take my workouts outside, maybe to the park where I can increase my agility by stepping around the duck poop that decorates the lake path.

And I’ll be younger next year.

They say it’s your birthday –
We’re gonna have a good time.

¡Lo hice!

April 28, 2009 by lbutler ♥ 4 Comments

If you had told me two years ago – or even two months ago – that I would teach a Relief Society lesson in Spanish, I would have questioned your sanity. My journey towards mastery of the Spanish language has been slow, laborious, and frustrating at times. And I am an eternity from fluency. But last Sunday night when Don and I were discussing possible teachers for this week, I casually mentioned that I wished I could do it – meaning I wished I was able to do it – had the ability to do it – spoke Spanish well enough to do it.

Well, Don jumped right on that idea, and before I really had time to consider what it could mean, he had me convinced that I could do it – because after all, “many of those women speak English, and they will help you.” As if that was all it took. . .

What followed that conversation was a week of intense preparation, prayer, and panic. I prepared a detailed outline – in Spanish and English, made some word strips to focus attention on important points – and remove the need for me to write in Spanish on the board, and chose a comfortable outfit to wear – because I could not be worrying about my clothes at a time like this!

Although my delivery was bumpy in spots and I had a hard time following some of the discussion, I did it! The hermanas were very supportive and complimentary, and even though I’m pretty sure that they did not understood everything I said, I came away feeling like we had had a successful meeting.

And next time it should be a little easier.

A new season

April 17, 2009 by lbutler ♥ 0 Leave a Comment

Monday I savored a few hours working in the front yard. The sun was warm – almost hot, the air was clear, and I felt exhilarated to be out of the house eagerly anticipating spring. Winter has seemed long, cold and dark, and I was excited to enjoy a few hours of sunny warmth as a harbinger of brighter days to come. I particularly enjoy working around the lilies, because the contrast between winter and spring is so dramatic.

As I cleaned away the dead leaves and remains from last fall, the strong, bright green leaves of this season’s growth stood straight and tall, ready to brighten my front yard and my spirits.

Initially, I considered the dead leaves and stalks from last season useless, and just something to get out of the way and into the trash. But on further consideration, I’ve realized that even though their summer beauty is gone, the dead stalks have continued to nurture the plant by providing protection from the cold and snow of winter. They have carefully surrounded the new shoots until they are strong enough to stand alone. And even as I pulled them away and threw them into the wheelbarrow to be taken to the compost pile, I realized that they will continue to serve as fertilizer, rich soil nutrients to be added to flower and vegetable gardens in years to come.

What a clear analogy for my life! I’ve had some periods of cold and dark days this winter, and like everybody else, I will continue to experience ups and downs in daily life. I’ve learned that as I clear away the dead, brown, and seemingly useless stalks and leaves from previous struggles, they can go into my personal “compost pile” and continue to enrich my life through the lessons they have taught me.

As I anxiously await the arrival of spring and summer, I look forward to the bright yellow blooms that the lilies will produce. And I happily anticipate the opportunities ahead of me.

So why is it rain/snowing today?

Springtime in the Rockies

April 8, 2009 by lbutler ♥ 3 Comments

Monday night, rather spur of the moment style, Don and I decided to go skiing. We bought a 4-pack of tickets back in November, but due to scheduling conflicts, doctor’s appointments, cold and very windy weather on many Tuesdays which is the day Don can go, we (meaning Don) had only used one of the set. In addition I have been less than enthusiastic about skiing this year and could quite easily find excuses not to go. I don’t know why I haven’t wanted to ski this year. I do still have some anxiety about falling and hurting myself -but it’s been five years since that episode, so I think it’s time I got over that. And I hate to be cold. And what if the roads are bad. And on and on and on.

So when Don “casually” suggested on Monday night that he’d really like to get in one more day of skiing, I decided to put aside all my excuses and go with him – the man that would do almost anything for me.

A-Basin - Colorado skiing in May by bridgepix.

photo courtesy of flickr

It was a beautiful day – sunny and warm with a beautiful blue sky. As soon as we started up I-70 I remembered why I like to go. The Colorado mountains are magnificent!

I had never skied Arapahoe Basin, and Don had only been once before, but armed with this

we joined the crowd (which was actually too small to really be a crowd) at the lift line

a bunch of happy people — Don't you just want to be there?

photo courtesy of flickr

and started the day at the top of this lift.

first stop off the lift — Wrangler was a gentle, easy run - perfect for remembering how to ski.

photo courtesy of flickr

As the day went on and I got my ski legs under me, I got a little more adventurous and took the second lift up to some blue runs. It was great! My only injury was a badly bruised thumb as a result of a very unspectacular fall (and on a green run, no less) that resulted in my thumb being smashed between the packed snow and my ski pole. But it will heal without any surgery or rehab, so no big deal.

What a glorious day! And when it was time to head home, I was the one who insisted on “just one more run from the top.”

I’ll come when I’m ready

April 3, 2009 by lbutler ♥ 4 Comments

The fall of 1978 found us still living in Isfahan, Iran – but not quite so comfortably as we had been. Politically, the country was in constant turmoil. We were living under martial law, which meant we had to be in our house between 8 p.m. and 6 a.m. Martial law also restricted public meetings to groups of three or less, so our church meetings had been canceled. We knew from shopping trips out and about the city, that some bank buildings had been hit with firebombs and occasionally we could hear rioting in the distance. Sporadic power outages were common, and it was not unusual to be without power for the whole night. Our parents were very concerned about us living under those conditions; they got their information from television news, and the media coverage was a bit disturbing! We too were beginning to feel the stress of the political upheaval, although we had not witnessed or experienced any problems personally.

In the midst of all this chaos, we learned that we would be welcoming a new baby into the family around March 28, and we were excited! I remember being a little intimidated about having three kids, since that would mean the parents were outnumbered by the children; but Emily was gradually maturing into a more reasonable pre-schooler and Nathan was showing signs of better behavior. It’s interesting to me that as I look back, my memory is that I was more concerned about handling three kids than I was about giving birth in a country that was on the verge of civil war!

Although this picture is poor quality, you can still tell that the faux fur collar remained a wardrobe staple – the wrap style made it a perfect fit for my expanding mid section.

We had plans to spend Christmas in Germany with Carolyn and Stephen who were stationed there, and then go on to the States. Don would stay just a couple of weeks and then return to Iran to complete his contract, while the kids and I would live with my parents until after the baby was born and Don returned. We all decided that the restrictions of martial law would make a potential middle of the night trip to the hospital challenging. We couldn’t be out during the curfew hours, but we had no phone to call for a police escort and none of us was interested in a home birth!

The war refugee and his prenant wife — The war refugee and his pregnant wife

That plan worked pretty much as outlined. by the time baby #3 was due, Don was back from Iran, working between San Diego and Chicago preparing for our new assignment in Saudi Arabia. He was home for occasional weekends, but I knew the chance of him missing this delivery were high. As the due date approached, my doctor and I agreed that since Don would be home the weekend that the baby was due, I would have labor induced so that Don could be here for that event. But when that weekend arrived, neither Dr. Westrup nor I really wanted to go through with that. I kept thinking that when the baby was ready, he would come, and I didn’t have the right to hurry the process for my convenience.

The weekend passed without any labor pains and Monday was uneventful as well. Due to a United Airlines strike, Don’s return to Chicago had been delayed until Monday evening, but that still wasn’t enough time. My dad drove Don to the airport and didn’t start back until Don had called back to check on me around 10:30. It was a terse conversation that went something like this (imagine Don speaking in a kind and concerned voice and me responding through gritted teeth, furious that this was happening):

“So I’m here at the airport, and before your dad leaves I just want to make sure nothing’s going on.”

“Nothing’s going on.”

“If you think it might be tonight, I can come back to Greeley with him.”

“It’s not tonight. Quit asking me! Just get on the airplane and go.”

However, before my dad returned to Greeley an hour later, I was timing contractions and getting ready to go to the hospital! Mom took me to the hospital, and sat with me through an almost painless labor process. I think that was my reward for going on my own – the contractions really didn’t hurt! But because of the logistics of this birth, none of us thought to take a camera to the hospital, and Mark’s first pictures weren’t taken until three days later.

The mother doesn't look great, but the baby is darling!

At 4:30 a.m. on Tuesday, April 3, Mark made his appearance – all 8 pound 10 ounces of darling little boy! When I called the Telemedia office in Chicago to share the good news, Don hadn’t even arrived there yet so it was a couple more hours before he knew that he had missed the whole show. And knowing how Don loves to be a part of childbirth, I could almost think he planned it that way!

And as with his brother and sister, Mark was welcomed into the family and adored from the beginning. From a letter to Don:

April 8, 1979 – Emily and Nathan are so cute with baby Mark. Of course Emily thinks she can do anything and everything for him. She’s real sweet with him and doesn’t seem to be jealous. And Nate is just his usual self. He came in the house after church this morning and hollered down the stairs, “Where’s my little brother?” I told him Mark was in bed, and his reply was, “I need to hold him.”

And does it get much cuter than this?

First passpor picture - December 1979 — First passport picture - December 1979

The Littlest Professor

April 3, 2009 by lbutler ♥ 2 Comments

First born children typically seem to be especially resilient – perhaps chosen especially for that role. They are the guinea pigs, the lab assignment, the hands on training for those who have jumped into parenthood. Firstborns often are strong willed, bright and determined – qualities which enable them to train two inexperienced and clueless adults in the proper care and feeding of children. Emily handled that role with skill and finesse!

Don and I eagerly anticipated the birth of our first child, wondering in those pre-ultrasound days if we’d have a daughter or a son. Don was sure it was a boy and referred to the growing baby as little “Sheide” after Gary Sheide, BYU’s outstanding quarterback of the 1974 season. I thought we were having a girl, but really just wanted to get that whole labor and delivery thing out of the way. Fear of the unknown was intense.

So after a Relief Society Homemaking meeting on April 2, 1975, feeling like I would never get comfortable again, I vocally listed my complaints, pains, concerns, and frustration.

That must have been just what I needed, because less than 24 hours later we were the picture of happiness – or at least relief!

The next day life looked great.

Utah Valley Hospital in the 1970’s was an absolute baby machine. Health precautions were strict – Don had to put on a gown before he was allowed to hold Emily. And the only people who could visit other than the dad, were grandparents who were allowed only one visit during my 3 day stay in the hospital.

We left the hospital on April 6, 1975 and went home to our one-bedroom basement apartment where Emily began her training sessions with us. We had a lot to learn, but she was a great teacher covering such topics as sleepless nights, projectile spitting/throwing up, and muffling a newborn’s cries so as not to disturb the upstairs neighbors!

Homecoming day — Do we look like we should be trusted with the life of this cute baby girl?

Don was a really proud first-time father

And I was in awe of our cute little bundle

Thirty-four years have passed since those days in Provo, and we’re still proud and in awe of our first born child and only daughter. Thanks for the continuing education. Current classes are a lot more fun than those prerequisites you put us through, and we look forward to many more semesters under your tutelage.

Preserving Memories

March 29, 2009 by lbutler ♥ 3 Comments

I’m in the middle of a big project.

It’s not new.

I started it years ago.

But now I want to finish it.

I have a lot of tools to play with.

Some of them are practically new.

Even though I’ve had them for several years.

It has to do with this kid.

And his upcoming wedding.

I’m making a mess.

But I’m enjoying the time consuming process.

And I think we’ll all appreciate the finished product.

It will be well worth the time and the clutter involved.

I love these people – and the ones they’ve added to our group.

I love to remember.

Spring Fling

March 25, 2009 by lbutler ♥ 0 Leave a Comment

A road trip to several points in Utah was the perfect antidote for my winter blahs.

Once we passed through Ault, I really felt like we were on the way.

Although the rock formations are somewhat interesting, the scenery wasn’t exactly breathtaking. Just imagine a car full of kids, with nothing more than this to look at just 35 miles into a 500 mile trip. . . now those are some great memories!

Wyoming scenery was no better than what we had just passed through in Colorado, but the windmills were a good diversion.

. . . . . . . .

Tree in the rock is a place our kids love to hate, but we stopped and had a good laugh remembering their disgust with such a lame landmark!

The Flying J was a welcome sight in the desolation of Interstate 80 across southern Wyoming.

In Salt Lake on Monday morning, we did gmail training with Grandpa. He’s definitely moving into the world of computers kicking and screaming!

We celebrated Kate’s birthday in Lehi on Tuesday. The chocolate cake was delicious!

We also built a fantastic square-foot garden, but Kate will have to post those pictures. The produce from that fertile soil will be fantastic!

In St. George on Thursday we toured this model home, and Maddie and I imagined how fun it would be to have sleepovers together.

Katie and Grandma trying to keep Charlie focused

We played at the park, shopped with Maddie, played Shanghai with Ryan and savored a much anticipated Concrete from Nielsen’s Frozen Custard.

Friday we reluctantly left St. George, hating to leave the fun and craziness that are always a part of our family get-togethers. But after driving several hundred miles east, “our” mountains came into view and Colorado looked pretty inviting.

I wonder what it’s like to live in Gypsum. . .

The luck of the Irish

March 17, 2009 by lbutler ♥ 3 Comments

I love St. Patrick’s Day. I’m not Irish. I’ve never made corned beef and cabbage. And I’m not sure I’ve ever eaten it. Green is not my favorite color. I don’t believe in leprechauns. But just the same, March 17 is one of my favorite holidays – dating back to 1973.

Don was young – 23 years old, but I was younger – just 18. The Saturday afternoon sun was inviting, and we went for a walk. The end of the semester at BYU was approaching, and I was in a quandary about where to live the next year. Don was graduating, so he wasn’t bothered with those kind of details, but all of us in May Hall were discussing apartments and roommates and new living arrangements. Don listened as I rambled and ranted, wondering what to do about a place to live. Should I live in the dorm again? It was easy – no meals to prepare and no house to keep clean. Should I get an apartment? I wasn’t sure who I wanted to live with, but apartment contracts were going fast so I had to make a decision.

We walked as I talked, and although Don was very attentive to my disjointed conversation, he didn’t offer much in the way of advice. After a while we found ourselves at the football stadium and sat down on the curb at the edge of the parking lot. When I finally stopped to take a breath, in a very matter of fact manner, Don said, “Well, you could live with me next year.”

It took me a minute to process what I thought he had said, and then not wanting to appear too forward but still a little flirtatious (after all – this was 1973), I cautiously replied, “Are you asking me what I think you’re asking me?”

He confidently responded, “I’m asking you to marry me.”

A lot of squealing, laughing and jumping ensued. I think I eventually remembered to say yes.

St. Patrick’s Day is an enchanted time – a day to begin transforming winter’s dreams into summer’s magic. – Adrienne Cook

Our little Arab

March 16, 2009 by lbutler ♥ 3 Comments

When we made plans to go to Saudi Arabia in 1980, it was with the understanding that we would not be adding to our family while in that country. I figured once was enough in the foreign birth department, and since we were only going to be there for two years we could easily have another child upon our return to the States. But after five years in the sandy desert, Plan A had become a little outdated, and we decided that we didn’t want any more space between child #3 and #4.

On November 25, 1984 we got our first look at the newest member of the family, but with ultrasound technology being what it was at that time and in that country, that look wasn’t a very good one. The doctor told me that if he had to make a guess about the sex of the baby, he’d say it looked like it was a boy. But he cautioned me against buying a lot of boy things, because it was too early (26 weeks) to be very sure

Can you even tell this is a baby? His head is on the right side of the image. — Can you even tell this is a baby? His head is on the right side of the image - identified by the "H".

March 13, 1985 found me looking like this

3 days to delivery - and looking every bit the part! — 3 days to delivery - and looking every pound the part!

but March 16, 1985 found me looking like this:

Lynn and Desley Boardman — Lynn - feeling great with friend Desley Boardman

The hospital experience in Saudi Arabia was much different from that in Iran. Abdullah Fouad Hospital in Dammam was quite new, modern, and clean; but best of all the labor and delivery department was supervised by a British midwife. She was attentive and competent and spoke English! So when Peter decided to make his appearance a little sooner than the doctor had anticipated, the midwife and I joined forces, and I had a baby before the doctor could arrive – and before Don got back from lunch!

Brand new!

Baby’s Name : Ibn Rynette Butler = son of Lynnette Butler

We brought Peter home to an adoring family, and he slipped into place almost seamlessly. How could we not get along well when he slept through the night from about day six. I still think that was my reward for having #4!

Or maybe it was this Crib Cuddle he slept in. Suspended against his crib mattress in the soft “sheepskin” and lulled to sleep by the sound of a heartbeat that was provided by the red heart, he slept like a champ. (Read here about the recall of this product . . .)

Our first Family Home Evening after Peter’s birth was spent writing welcome notes to the new baby brother.

Mark spoke for the entire family with this concise summary as a school assignment:

And now that baby is going to have a baby!

things that make me happy

Author: lbutler

You say it’s your birthday?

1. Exercise six days a week for the rest of your life

5. Quit eating crap!

¡Lo hice!

A new season

Springtime in the Rockies

photo courtesy of flickr

photo courtesy of flickr

photo courtesy of flickr

I’ll come when I’m ready

The Littlest Professor

Preserving Memories

Spring Fling

The luck of the Irish

St. Patrick’s Day is an enchanted time – a day to begin transforming winter’s dreams into summer’s magic. – Adrienne Cook

Our little Arab