New Arrival

Good Monday morning. I had a bit of a writer's block this weekend even though I had a big event. I'm back though. Or I think I am back..... I at least have a ton of pictures.

As most of you know, early this winter I got a little Guernsey/Jersey milk cow named Buttermilk. Don't you dig my winter outfit! Thats pretty much what I look like all winter. I never thought I would say this but I love this darn cow, she is the sweetest kindest little girl. I just adore her. (Cant you imagine me on one of those spoiled pet shows where I have my cow in the house? Ok I won't go that far.)

So we have been waiting for what seems FOREVER for Buttermilk to have her first calf. We really didn't have any clue when she was bred or when she would calf. At one point I didn't think she was pregnant so she got "preg" tested. For those of you non-livestock people, when a cow is "preg" tested a veterinarian, with a long glove on, sticks their hand up the cows behind (politically correct) and actually feels for a calf. No pictures to go with that.

That leads to a funny quick story. Working at the horse place this spring, a veterinarian was ultrasounding a mare (same kind of process only they have a ultrasound probe and the vet was checking to see if the mare had ovulated). The horse was kind of jumping around and the vet said something about the mare having no reason for being so uncooperative (it is hard to be politically correct, I feel all proper). So me with my occasional big mouth blurts out "Oh maybe it's because you have her hand up her ass." There goes politically correct and proper, and I don't recommend saying that to a veterinarian. ha-ha!

So on Saturday I drug my happy butt out of bed around 7:30. Grabbed my cup of coffee and sat with Ed at the dining room table while he read the paper. I looked out the window at the pasture like I do every morning and saw something flopping around on the ground. "What the heck is going on out there?!", I ask Ed and (because he is awake and can actually see straight) he informs me its Buttermilk calving.

I got out there just as the calf was half way out.



This moment I knew the calf was ok and it was a huge relief. Buttermilk isn't a very big cow and we knew that she had been bred to a rather large bull. After some more struggling and my attempt at helping her by gently pulling, her new calf was born.

 

It was hard for me to sit and watch the rest and let nature take its course, I wanted to have towels to dry the baby off. When working with high dollar horses there are certain steps you take to ensure the baby is healthy, but it is different for cows, unless there is an issue its best to just let nature be, so I sat and watched.

There were a few moments there where we thought that she wasn't going to except her new baby. She got up and kind of pushed her around with her horns. Ed reassured me that instincts would kick in, but you wonder, it's got to be confusing for a first time mom.

 

These are the very first moments a new mom is touching her baby. I feel so lucky to have been there.

 

I don't believe in asking God for little things, I really feel that it's sort of a selfish thing to do. I feel nature just flows and takes its course, I don't believe (like I have said before) that there is some guy up there like Santa Claus going "Oh little Billy has been good and he asked for a new car." But I did say a little "I sure hope that everything goes smoothly, Buttermilk has an easy delivery, and I'm would sure like a girl so I could keep her." I feel blessed to have gotten all of those wishes.

 

Somehow, call it instincts kicking in, she realized that this little bundle of calf was her baby, she started cleaning her. That moment of bonding has to be one of the neatest moments on earth. One that is so precious and important but one that is taken for granted. 

 



 

 

This is where we left to finish our coffee and let them have some private time. We would return in awhile to make sure that the baby was nursing.

 

 

There is a little dance first time moms do. The baby is trying to get back to the right spot to nurse and the mother is still cleaning off the baby and afraid to let it out of their sight.



 

 

Round and round and round they went. I was about to put a halter on Buttermilk to hold her still but finally there was success.

I hope that you enjoy these pictures. I left them again so I could help finish chores but had plans to come back one more time to  touch the baby again. There is kind of a window of opportunity to really get to touch and imprint yourself on a baby calf, they are sleepy their first day, but in a couple days they are full of themselves and feeling good and touching them isnt as easy. As of now, her name isnt for sure. We are leaning towards Caramel Latte (both my mom and my favorite drink).

Buttermilk has turned out to be a wonderful momma. I am so proud of her.

I look forward to watching this baby grow, be a part of our family, and someday have a calf of her own. Life is good.

 

 



Rough Roads, Duct Taped Boxes, and Beautiful Babies

Today my little girl turns 10!!! And my son turned 11 on the July 1st. It just blows my mind how fast they grow. It seems like it gets faster and faster and I am scrambling trying to hold onto the memories. The pictures in this post are from our evening float trip lastnight. 
 

With every year though I just want to say NAH NAH NAH NA NAH NAH to those who told me that I couldn't do it, that being a single completely fatherless mom was too hard with two children and that I should give my baby up for adoption. I can't even imagine life without my kids. I don't think I would be alive if I didn't have my kids, I was on a path to mass destruction partying like I did and I think they both were my gifts that brought stability to my life.

 

I'm not very good at being told I can't do something. You might as well challenge me to do it because if you tell me I can't I'm going to do it if it kills me. I am horribly drawn to the rough path and not afraid to step outside the box. In fact I have stepped outside of my box and back in, I have played kick the box, hid in my box, and rode my box down some steep hills, heck my box is covered in duct tape and baling twine. So bring it on!

 
There is so much out there trying to influence your life sometimes you just got to stand up, grab stuff by the balls and say "No this is how it's going to be." Someone once told me (Dave Herigstad) to follow your instincts and if you have a feeling inside of you at all that something wasn't right, then don't do it because it's probably wasn't. I have carried that with me since Dave gave me that great advice but I haven't always completely followed it, there has been many times when I knew that feeling was there but I just ignored it and bulled my way through the situation. Those lovely decisions have always ended with bad results.

 
When I found out I was pregnant with my daughter, I was given a package of potential adopters and told that giving her up would probably be the best thing. I'm sure that I have repeated this story many times, and like usual it is a very deep private one, but I feel like it should be shared. Of course I am not saying that adoption is a bad thing, I think it's amazing and a gift to all those involved. I can't imagine the pain of not being able to have children and wanting them so bad. In fact I actually knew one of the families looking to adopt and I was in awe of their story and offer of kindness. The message I want to get across is that there are those moments in life where it feels like the whole world is against you and you need to make a tough decision. You need to look deep deep down and find that instinct, that feeling deep down in your gut and you need to take that action.

 
I did that day I stood against all odds. I sat in a coffee shop and carefully read through all the papers and potential adopters, and it finally hit me that it just wasnt the path I was going to take, I was going to keep my daughter and do my best. It wasn't an easy decision. I faced my family and people who knew me, here I was pregnant and alone again. I felt like I should be on the Jerry Springer Show. I fell in and out of depression. My mom was my strongest supporter, she stood by my side the whole time. And the thing that gave me the most courage is when my grandfather said "If anyone can raise two children alone it would be Jeanie."

But in the end through all the struggle and all the pain it was the best decision I have ever made. Look at all I would be missing if I hadn't stood for my gut feeling. I say this as they are upstairs arguing and driving me bonkers, but it's the best bonkers you could be. Everyday they bring richness and joy to my life. And they come with their own great advice. One time they told me,"Mom, the bad stuff makes the good stuff that much gooder." I am so blessed.

 

 

 

Digging Deep (This was a hard one for my to decide to publish)

I wrote the following post yesterday. And looking at it this morning I debate on publishing it. I look at it and read it, and hover over the publish button. When I finally do it know that I did it with my eyes squeezed shut like i do when a ball is about to hit my head. haha I could be going too deep and too personal. Crossing the line. Oh I shouldn't of said that because I love to cross the line and step outside of the box. It's a challenge.

I am terribly shy. Yeah I know those who know me in real life aren't surprised by this statement. But I am painfully debilitatingly shy. I don't know where it comes from (hopefully not stuffed animal fears).

 

It has effected every aspect of my life and has made me a not very good friend. Not that I don't care, because I care more about the people in my life near and far probably more than a lot of people do,  but I don't go out of my way socially for friends. Like you will rarely see me show up at your door just to hang out, or call just to babble about whatever. If you're not making direct eye contact with me I probably won't even wave at you in the store. And it's not that I am a snob or I don't like people, somewhere deep inside of me there is just this block, I can't unblock. I have been told my whole life how quiet I am and how I hold everything in, but it's not that I am holding it in, something inside of me holds it in and I battle it all in my head.

I can go where I don't know anyone and start conversations with complete strangers. There is an outgoing confident person inside of me. But to walk into someplace, where I know people, is terrifying and I have found myself in awkward situations where I just didn't go in, I freeze up. I can babble here on this blog or facebook, I can text on and on, but in person it all shuts down. I have a hard time even answering the phone or calling people. A lot of really wonderful friendships have slipped through my life because of this.

I don't know if it's something deep down that is worried about what people think of me? Because on the outside I obviously don't give a hoot. I am one of the plainest people you will ever meet. And although I am a people pleaser, I am not a people follower. I stubbornly don't dress or act like other people and I can't fit my feelings or beliefs into a pre-shaped box.

Why I am I telling you this? I don't really know, I am just throwing it into the wind. I know I can't be alone, there has to be other people out there with this issue.  Think of that when you see someone your know is shy or doesnt make a big effort. She might not be a snob or stupid, she might just be stuck and if you make the effort you may be helping her be unstuck you might find someone you like. If I googled it there is probably a name for what I have and a support group. Or I could be totally messed up and need a psychologist.

 

 

Bitter Sweet Meat

Yesterday was sort of a bitter sweet day. Well I don't know about sweet until my freezer is full.
 

My sons pigs went to slaughter. It was kind of a spur of the moment thing. We had planned on having them slaughtered but it just happened that the butcher could take them at that time so we took advantage of that.
 

This is that part of farming that I struggle with.

 On one hand I can't kill anything. Literally. I can't even get myself to kill a bug. I will either have Micah come get the bug or I will skirt around it until it is gone (I am also terrified of bugs). Micah kind or rolls his eyes and says "Oh mom!" This is going to get real personal and maybe a little bit funny, but when I was a kid I was afraid of hurting my stuffed animals or hurting their feelings. I remember pulling one into bed with me and ending up with all my stuffed animals in the bed because I was afraid they would be sad. Or I would make sure they were facing right where I put them so they could see (that is my OCD showing through. ha-ha) I'm sure there is some deep psychological thing there. And I can see how its effected my whole life, I am that way with people too. Of course I am not perfect, everyone does the wrong thing at some points in their life, but in general I don't like hurting people's feelings either. I have a total people pleaser type personality.

I can see the emotions in the animals (not talking about stuffed animals) and I believe they have feelings. And I truly do love all of my critters, maybe a little more extreme than others. They bring me joy and a smile to my face every day.
 

This is my first time owning or being around pigs. They are funny, curious creatures. Anything you did in their pen, they were right in the middle of and they mouthed everything. Jolly, fat, and lazy. They were near my horses so when I went out to feed in the morning they would still be asleep.

 

On the other hand, I get that we are a meat eating society. I think it would be so wrong of me to be against raising one's own animals for slaughter and then go turn around and eat a McDonalds cheese burger. If you are going to eat meat I think it's so important to understand where it comes from and that you are eating what was once a living, breathing, feeling animal. The meat, milk, cheese, eggs, etc you buy at the store doesn't just appear there. There was a whole process to get it to that point.


There are generations and generations of ranchers and farmers that have put their heart, soul and body into raising their animals. I cringe when animals rights activists say ranchers don't care for their animals. They just have no clue how much passion, sacrifice,  and love is put into what they do. Of course there are exceptions, there is animal cruelty, wrong ways of doing things, and greed. But there are exceptions to everything and the only solution to those problems are education, education, education.

 If we all educated ourselves we wouldn't be eating products produced out of cruelty, we wouldn't be eating products filled with chemicals. If we went that extra mile to learn about our food and be an aware person things would be different, and greedy corporations would dwindle. Drilling that into people's heads sometimes feels like repeatedly banging your head against the wall. We are very contradictory. The majority of people say one thing or say they support one thing but then they turn around and do something else.  Maybe they somehow feel better about saying what they should believe in or what they think people want to hear, but its doesn't actually apply to them.  I think it's that rebellious, we are invincible nature we all have a tendency to have.  I am not pointing a finger. I know I have been there a time or two on different subject and I cannot say I will never be there again. But I am trying to become aware and improve myself, because I believe that is what life is. Constant learning and improving of oneself.

So back to the subject. The pigs are gone, we have chickens soon going to slaughter. And we have bran new baby steer calves that will one day face the same. With each one that goes, I feel a pain, an am I doing the right thing feeling. But I try my best to stand strong to my beliefs. I have eaten meat my whole life, I am not innocent, and I will not stop eating meat.  Its a part of the flow of life, it is how it is. And the best I can do is raise my animals with as much love and care as I can, carry thankfulness to them in my heart, and know that my family is eating chemical free, cruelty free, healthy all the way down to their soul meat.

 

Goatgirl Goes Cajeta

I love to write the heading of posts! I could be the headline writer for a newspaper. Maybe if I run out of stuff to blog about I will just start making up headings.

********this pic is so random and rarely do I torcher myself by posting pics of myself but things were looking plain at the top of this post***********

 
I don't want to turn this blog into a cooking blog, but it's a subject that I will probably babble about every once in awhile. I like to cook. And I like recipes. I know real cooks aren't suppose to follow recipes they fly by the seat of their pants and they are cool, or whatever, but not me, I am a direction follower. The more complicated the recipe the better. I don't do well with packaged meals or mac and cheese for some reason. I either mess them up or burn myself.

 
Goat cheese was suppose to be my newest project and I am still getting to that, but I was distracted yesterday with cajeta (ca-heh-ta). Cajeta is a Mexican caramel like sauce made from goats milk.

Pati's Mexican Table Cajeta 

There are many recipes online but I chose this one mostly because the writer actually went to where cajeta was started . Mixing history and food makes it that much more fun (that and her copper pot totally intrigues me)

So what you need is goats milk (let me recommend not watching someone's goat unless you are really  hard core), dark brown sugar, vanilla extract, and baking soda.  Yum and simple.  For the amounts visit the above blog.

 ***** I actually measured out the ingredients, they weren't measured out by my staff****

Of course, put all the ingredients in the  pot on a medium heat. The heaviest bottom pot you can find in your cupboard. I learned that lesson a couple month back making farmers cheese. I scorched the milk because my pot wasn't thick enough and I ruined a whole gallon of milk. If you cook on a budget that stinks.

So let the stirring begin, this is one of those simmer and stir forever things that isn't for the faint of  heart. Its not as  bad as polenta from scratch though if you have ever had that experience. Make sure you are using a wooden spoon, because only cool people use wooden spoons.

 

 I went back and added a teaspoon of cinnamon (according to other recipes found). I just couldn't resist messing with it more. Then I spent a couple minutes panicked that I was going to have cinnamon floaties and ruin the whole thing. I think panic attacks are a part of cooking.

 

 The name of the game is reducing and for whatever reason it seems when you reduce the liquid out of what you are cooking by simmering it makes things more yummy. Sitting there and stirring isn't a requirement. Thank God because it needs to simmer for like 2 hours, my attention span is fleeting!! Stir and make sure its not burning then go do something else. The above pic  is about an hour into the whole thing. You can see how much it has reduced.

Of course the best thing about being the cook it the taste testing. This is the sticky stuff stuck to the sides. And it was HOT! I about burned my finger, but it was worth the pain.

 It made exactly 3 cups. But turned out not thick enough to be a sauce. Which is frustrating and if I was feeling like it I would go back and try it again. But  this time I did what any true American would do (that sounds so good but doesn't make sense at all). I turned it in to coffee sweetener.

I have gotten pretty darn good at the whole goat milking thing. I get more milk at a time so goat cheese next.

Goat Milker Anonymous

Goat Milker Anonymous

So I milked a goat this morning. I feel like I really have fallen off the deep edge of crazy homestead farm girl. I no longer walk with the rest of the normal buy it at the store people. I have crossed the line. You have people that have a couple chickens or a couple cows, but then you have goat people, and goat people are a breed of their own. The only defense I have is that it's not my goat, I am goat sitting. Really that's not a very good defense.

As I get deeper into the farm girl life I find it so fascinating how hard people work. Esp. the homestead women of the past. Just to get anything on the table or clothes for your family was a process.  There is no way they could of ever have been bored or had much time to do anything else. We have become so lazy and expect things just ready  for us to wear or eat, we would totally be in trouble if it all ended and we had to fend for ourselves. Mass chaos.

So I drug my butt out this morning to try to milk the goat. No matter how hard I try or if I work a job for months that I have to get up early for , I am still not a morning person. Left to be natural I would stay up all night and sleep till noon like my grandfather did. I require coffee. But this morning I had to skip the coffee because I was worried (and I still am) that somehow I would mess up the goat by not milking her in time.

Catching the damn thing was another story. It wasn't a pretty the goat gets up on the stool and just about milks herself story. Oh no. Nothing in my life ever goes so smooth and I no longer expect it.  I chased her all over the pen finally baiting her with some grain and grabbing her collar. Then she wasn't going to just get on her stool, I had to pick her up.

 

 

Then with my little bucket I attempted milking. I have never milked anything but a mare trying to help a new born foal nurse before so this was a whole new challenge. Nothing went right at first, nothing came out. I was a little panicked that I wasn't going to be able to do this and I was going to have one angry goat owner after me.

*****Graphic photos. lm not sure if I am suppose to warn small children*******

Apparently you have to finesse the nipple just right to get anything (sorry for my terminology I like to crack myself up).  With the first couple squirts I thought to myself, "Holy crap this is going to take forever to get 1/2 a gallon I really should of drank some coffee first." You see the end product of milk but never did I ever think of how many squirts from a nipple it took to get that milk.

 

20 minutes later and a couple of kicks from the goat, my hands felt like I had just repeatedly shook strong man hands, and my knee was covered in goat milk, I had gotten all that I could get. I proudly brought my goat milk in to strain and put in the fridge. Next adventure is goat cheese!

 

By the way I haven't tasted the goat milk. I dont like milk, I dont like goat milk, and I am still a little freaked out about the whole it actaully came from the goat thing so I am going to start with the cheese.

 

Life is Like.... a Book (sorry Forrest)

I am back. Everyone went to do something today and I agreed to watch a ladies goat so I had to stay home and wait for them to show up. I now have 5 days of morning and night milking of a goat named Ali to look forward to. I don't even really like goats or goat milk for that matter but I am up for a new experience.



This is one of those rare days where I have done pretty much nothing. Since I have moved here there has always been so much to do I don't stop very often.



I was looking through the photos on my phone, thinking my life is always so full of random interesting stuff and I haven't been sharing it. Though some would say I share way too much about my life. I have been told I shouldn't be such an open book. But I don't really know what that means. Isn't a book suppose to be opened? If we don't share our thoughts and experiences with each other how do we grow into better people?



I worked on a Quarter Horse breeding facility this spring. A small one. One amazing lady's dream of raising champion barrel racing and race horses. I went in with "oh I am going to really get my foot in the door and learn stuff from this job" and came out with lessons I never thought I would learn and the amazement of how hard people with livestock work and the amount of loss they endure.



Although I love my animals and someday I want to do something with horses. I want to stand out as a horse woman in some way. I don't know if I would ever want to be on that level. One of the main reasons is with so much loss and struggle I think you grow a little callused in a way. I don't think the love for the individual animal is as strong as when you were a little girl and you just loved your one simple ugly pony. Horses become more of a tool to the success you are seeking. I don't mean that in a real bad put down successful horse people way, I just think it's human nature to always strive for more and better and not see that perfection is in imperfection and the true life moments aren't filled with success and glory, they are the simple moments when all is said and done we wish that we could bring back.



That lesson, although I have heard it many times was brought to me this spring one more time by one little filly named Footnote.



It had been one of those births that we waited for in anticipation. The mare was already a surrogate mother to an orphan foal we had been bottle feeding.  I wasn't there for her birth. I was the one that took care of things for during the day while those who stayed up all night rested. But I will set the scenario for you . Jill and Jody are two close friends that run the place ( I hope to be inspired to blog more about them because both are neat women), they would sit up with mares about to foal. I learned a lot about when a mare is ready to foal and what to do. When a foal was born the two of them would make sure the mare didn't need any help, then when the baby was born they would help clean the foal up, give enemas, make sure the foal was healthy, got the colostrum needed, and was nursing. This time was different because when the baby was born, Jill went to get the supplies and more legs started coming out of the mare. The mare named Paige gave birth to twins Foreward and Footnote. Foreword was a strong and healthy colt, but little Footnote was smaller and weak. Knowing that the chances of her survival wasn't good, Jill vowed that she would do the best she could for the little filly, that being a part of her responsibility as a horse breeder. I admire that, the care that Jill gives her animals is incredible.

We bottle fed and took care of that baby her first day of life. Knowing that she might not make it through the first night I tried to remember the words of my mother to love them while they are here, but I tried not to get too attached.



There is something special about a baby. A baby anything. They don't know they are struggling to survive, they just simply live. One moment at a time. They don't care what they look like, if they will be successful, or what people think of them. They only care about each good moment that comes their way and they are quick to forgive the not so good. That is such an important lesson that comes up over and over again. It's a shame some of us fail to see that.



Little Footnote made it through her first night. She was a fighting sassy little spirit. I remember wrestling her in her stall, trying to soak her naval or trying to get her to eat when she didn't want to. She was under developed and down in her pasterns (her ankles touched the ground), but she got around pretty well. She would knicker when she heard you coming and when she was hungry. Her personality and zest for life shined. She lifted our spirits and our hopes, that just maybe she could survive.

The next day was a warm early spring day. I finished chores and decided to bring Footnote outside to enjoy the sun. I carried her outside onto the grass. Ed helped me clean her up and then we giggled as she wandered around wagging her tail like everyone should pay attention to the new horse in town. She found a nice sunny place to lay and just soaked up the sun. You could just feel in those moments she was plain happy.



At one point I lay beside her and fell asleep. I was behind her shoulder and she would swing her head back every once in awhile to make sure I  was still there.

I have been around animals so long now that I see these moments. They are no longer this foal is cute moments, they are much deeper than that and I feel honored to be a part of them. They are THE moments, the simple ones you want to revisit over and over again. Although I am wiser now and I see them and I hold on to them as tight as I can, trying to remember all the details, these moments still slip away and all I have is the memory and the hope that lies in that moment.



When I brought little Footnote in for the night you could tell that was all she had, something in her body was underdeveloped and she was uncomfortable. We tried to give her medications and comfort her but nothing worked.  The next morning Jill made the decision to have her put down.

These are the memories I have and the lesson I wanted to share with you.

My family is home now. And not about to let me keep typing, so I better close and go.

Lots of Changes

Wow! Again its been a long time since I have blogged. I'm not sure I remember how or remember how to put my thoughts down on the computer. I'm not even sure my thoughts are as gathered as I once thought they were. There have been a lot of changes and a lot of struggle in my life since my last post. I uprooted my life and my children this last fall and moved from the mountains of Anaconda Montana to the flat land and coulees of Great Falls. I have gone from a totally unstable out of control situation to a stable one where I am getting to be quite the little small time ranch girl. I now have cows, pigs, sheep, turkeys, and chickens. I have a garden and am currently helping to hay. So here I am back. And I hope to blog more often. I hope everyone has a fun and safe 4th of July!!!

Bullying

I haven't blogged in some time. Well I have but I haven't finished and posts that I started. Mostly because I have been busy, but I am also pretty stressed out and just don't have the want to sit and concentrate on anything.

Today however, I feel that I need to write something about what is going on because in a way I may have to be defending my honor.

I recently got a call from the school principal and have just returned from a meeting that my daughter has been involved in some bullying. As a parent you always have a fear that your child will be bullied or made to feel that they are inadequate in some way but it really throws you for a loop when your child is the one being accused of being a bully.

The acquisition is that Emily and another girl have been calling another girl names and kicking rocks at her. But if you ask Emily she says the other girl has been mean to her also and will seek her out to cause a confrontation. To me it’s a normal peer conflict. I remember not getting along with some kids in school I even remember getting in physical kick fights with each other one recess and then being buddies the next. I think there is always a struggle of people wanting to feel important and accepted and trying to find a balance. But I think actual bullying is way deeper seeded and that there is something wrong that needs to be addressed in a different matter. I also believe it starts at home.

There is no record of these contacts. No teacher, principal, counselor has ever seen anything. Emily’s behavior “tracker” record has nothing. Pretty much it is a she said/she said situation that instead of being handled in an adult matter has been blown up and now comes with threats of restraining orders, letters to the Leader and a father on the play ground after school that scares the hell out of my child.

I am not saying my daughter is perfect in every way and she would never do anything wrong. She is a human and we sometimes make the wrong choices or follow the wrong people’s decisions. But as a whole I have made every effort to raise her as a thoughtful, caring, thinking, growing person who is able to handle life and love herself enough to reach for the right decision making. In every situation with my children I have been right there at the school ready to do what ever was needed to solve a problem whatever it may be. I try to be frank with my children and discuss what is going on. I respect that they are people and we try to work things out. And I hope if a fellow parent caught her acting out or saying something she should not be saying that they would say “Hey Em watch your mouth” or “Em are you making the right decision?” Or in some way aid her in doing what is right with out judging or threatening, as I would their children. This, however is really a punch in the face.

I don’t condone bullying. I have memories of myself being bullied in different ways and they are not good memories. But you can’t put a label on something and enforce some sort of punishment and create this perfect la-la land world where no ones feelings will ever get hurt. It is our responsibility as parents to be able to communicate with each other, teach our children and have them feel that there is an open line of communication. I think both parties are victims. In someway the bully is just as hurt as the person being bullied and if we can’t find a solution to this other then punishment and finger pointing then we are totally screwed.

As I listened to a frustrated principal today, I felt bad for the children who are actually victims of bullying or ones bullying because I know that with all this over doing and over accusing that it dilutes the vision of what is really going on. And instead of the actual problem getting addressed and solved we now have a finger pointing/nit picking mess and the real victims will be swept away.