Archives for 2008

Hey all – Landon here. Just wanted to stop by and post a message of my own. I’m close to 9 months old now, and so far life hasn’t been that bad. I started crawling the other day. That was cool, but I’m over the excitement now. I’m movin’ on to the good stuff, pulling up, walking, getting into everything I possibly can. I see how the older two run mom ragged and it looks kinda fun. I want to get in on that action.
I do, however, have a couple of issues with the whole third kid thing. First of all, I get left alone an awful lot. And despite my rather persistent cries of protest, they just leave me. Mom’s all “Sorry bud, but I just can’t hold you now.” What’s that all about? I’m adorable! Who wouldn’t want to hold me. And, you know, mom keeps complaining about the extra 10 pounds she’s holding on to…well, if she’d tote my 23 pound behind around more, I could guarentee a quick and easy weight loss. Then there are my siblings. I mean, they’re cool and all, and for the most part they crack me up. But they can also be a little annoying – especially the one with the longer hair who keeps pushing me over and trying to pick me up even though I weigh almost as much as she does. And the tall one that talks a lot – well, he just eggs her on! Tonight was no different. I was in my room…alone…again, when they both came running in all sopping wet and naked. I had just enjoyed my own bath and was minding my own business when I felt this cold goop hit my head and saw them laughing and pointing. Feeling foolish, I tried to laugh along, but when mom came in and shook her head and said that “no” word that I hear a lot, I knew it wasn’t good. Turns out the one with the longer hair thought it would be hilarious to glop lotion on my nice, clean head. Ha, ha, ha. Real funny guys. Geesh. What they don’t know is that I am storing up all these moments of torture and I will have my revenge. I’ve heard that little brother’s are supposed to be pests – I can’t wait to live up to that!

I hooked up with this meme over at Rocks in my Dryer. You know, for us gals, sharing labor and delivery stories is like sharing an old war story. It’s just in our nature to share, so here are my labor stories – the condenced version:

How long were your labors?
Sloan – 5 hours
Katya – 2.5 hours
Landon – hard to say, contractions off and on for about 24 hours but true labor maybe 7 hours

How did you know you were in labor?
Seriously? Ummmm…how about mind numbing pain that shot from the middle of my back to my knees. Yeah – the whole idea of when it’s time, you’ll know – totally applied to me.
Sloan – I had mild contractions all day until about 1:00 am when they jumped to crazy intense. Got to the hospital and found out I was a 6 and two hours later, he was here!
Katya – my water broke around 4:00 am, she was born at 6:20 – she wasted no time…she still wastes no time.
Landon – he took his time. Lee and I actually drove out to a Christmas party in Imperial the night before he was born – in a blizzard – despite contractions coming every 15 minutes. We’ve never claimed to be smart.

Where did you deliver?
Missouri Baptist Medical Center and loved it!

Drugs?
No, actually. I opted for no epidural. When I had Sloan they didn’t even give me an IV, which was awesome! Before you think too highly of me you should know that I am deathly afraid of needles. Squeezing a kid out drug free is way more appealing than letting some yahoo shove a needle into my spine. That’s just me. And, to be honest, my deliveries were so fast that an epidural just didn’t make sense. By the time I felt unbearable pain it was time to push (oh, and to the author’s of the book that said that once you get to the pushing in natural childbirth, it’s much easier because you are naturally numb by that point – you guys are idiots…just sayin’) Actually, when I walked into the hospital with Landon I was at an 8 and could barely feel my contractions. He was my easiest labor, despite being the longest – but my roughest delivery! Weird…

C-Section?
Oh, thank God no! They would have had to put me under I would have been such a basket case!

Who delivered?
Sloan – the house doctor because my doctor didn’t make it because they thought since it was my first pregnancy it would take me longer to progress. I was only in the delivery room 45 minutes when the nurse checked and freaked out and told me to wait while she got help. I almost said a bad word in response, maybe I did, I can’t remember. I vividly remember telling Lee to quit breathing in my face because he had bad breath. I felt bad about it later, but when you feel like your rear end is about to explode you really can’t be held accountable for the things you say.
Tia-My OB just barely made it. He was waiting outside the room and told us to call him when I was ready to push. The problem was, when I was ready to push, she just came out. I think he got there in time to catch her with one hand just before she hit the table.
Landon-He was a little different. I couldn’t really tell if I was in labor or not. In fact, when I got to the hospital, I thought for sure they’d send me home because my contractions were so mild. When the nurse said I was at an 8, I was shocked. My OB kind of rushed Landon’s birth because he had a scheduled C-Section to get to, so he just told me to start pushing even though I wasn’t really ready. I think that’s why delivery hurt so much with Landon. But, you know, the pain is so short and then, all of the sudden, this perfect little being is in your arms and the pain is gone. It’s so miraculous. If the newborn phase weren’t so dang difficult, I think I’d have a couple more babies.
So there you have it. My labor stories without too much gross embarrassing stuff. If any of you want to join, click on the link above and link to the meme through her site. Happy Labor Day!

Well, my “little” brother turns 27 today. So, to commemorate, I thought I’d give him a lovely post on my little blog. Brett and I spent six years of our childhood in Wisconsin where we explored acres of forest behind our house, built igloos in the six foot snow drifts outside our front door, built the most glorious snowmen you’ve ever seen and played Atari in the basement. As little brother’s go, Brett was a pretty good one. Sure, he was a pain in the rear end, but he was also very tolerant of me. There is the distinct possibility that I may have tortured him when he was younger. Like the time we were staying home alone and I pretended to fall down the stairs and break my leg. Or the time I sent him into the basement and screamed at the top of the lungs because I knew he was scared of monsters. I also took sick pleasure in waking him up in the mornings by standing over his bed and letting out a blood curdling scream. Cruel, I know, but if you’ve never done that to someone, you should try because it. is. funny. Another form of torture was to dress Brett up endlessly and make him enact all sorts of dramas and plays with me. Through all this, he never really complained – he just went along with whatever I said.
In my defense, there were some sweet times that we shared as well. Every year growing up, we would make Brett a bed on my floor on Chritstmas Eve and he and I would wake up around 3:00 am and I would read to him, usually Garfield and Ziggy cartoons, until about 4:30 when we would tear down the stairs hopped up on excitement and little sleep. We still call one another at the crack of dawn on Christmas just because it’s tradition! One of my most distinct memories of our time in Wisconsin is the day that Brett and his friend Matt decided to go on a long walk through the woods. When they didn’t return after a couple of hours, my mom and I began traipsing through the fields, yelling their names. Finally, my mom sent me through the neighborhood and she decided to search the trees. I remember calling his name and fearing deep down that something terrible had happened. After another hour of searching, I headed home and found Brett and Matt sitting on the front step, covered in mud. In that moment, I was immensely relieved that they were okay and at the same time I wanted to strangle both of them for putting us through that. Instead I just told them that mom was looking and she was furious. They ran inside and went to Brett’s room to change clothes. Outside we could see my mom stomping back through the field, her face laced with fury and terror. I heard Brett say to Matt, “There’s my mom….she looks weally mad.” Come to find out they had walked a couple of miles through the woods to a friends farm! Crazy kids.
Now, my brother is a man. He is a United States Navy veteran. He is a hard worker and still one of the kindest, most tender hearted people you will ever meet. Brett would give you the shirt off his back if you needed it. I’ve always said that if you become friends with Brett, you have a friend for life. He is a good man and I’m proud of him.
Brett is also a phenomenal writer – much better than I am – and he is wildly creative and gifted in a lot of ways. I look forward to seeing how those talents and gifts play out. I love you, Brett. Happy Birthday. I hope you have an amazing day – wish I could be there with you.
I have no excuse for the outfit I’m wearing in this picture. Wait – yes I do…it was the 80’s.

Well, I have turned my poor house upside down looking for a picture that I wanted to post. When Lee and I were first in the “getting to know you” phase of our relationship, Lee was the area director for K-Life Ministries in Waco, TX. The spring of my junior year, K-Life hosted a 4 on 4 basketball tournament and had a slam dunk contest. Lee, being the stud that he was (and still is – wink, wink) had three or four of the teenage boys squat down and he dunked over them. He was, according to the teens, the bomb!! I have a great picture of that infamous dunk hiding around here somewhere and I really wanted to post it along with these:

This is Lee, ten years later, dunking over our five year old. That’s my man! Now, I’m not supposed to tell you that the basket was only nine feet instead of ten, or whatever it is in regulation basketball, so I won’t divulge that information. But, you gotta admit, that’s not bad for an old guy who doesn’t play much anymore. It would’ve been cooler had I found the other shot. Oh well, you’ll just have to take my word for it…

My neighbor, Julie, and I went to the park this morning and let our kids sweat off the energy that had them tearing through the house, practically foaming at the mouth earlier. Now, my kids are all sleeping so score one for mommy! As we watched our kids zip across the playground, (Sloan, my little ladies man, was being followed by a gaggle of little girls, strutting like he was the king of the world) Julie and I had a few minutes to sit and relax – very few, but that’s beside the point…As we watched our kids go from cute and all put together to sweaty, smelly and dirty, we both commented on the fact that as a parent, at some point you have to just loosen up and let them be kids. Getting dirty is one of the greatest things about being a kid. You can dress them cute and worry and fret if they get a drop of grime on them, but eventually, you just have to let it go, do a little more laundry and smile as they go out and conquer the world (or slay dragons, as Sloan and his little posse were doing. Unfortunately, at one point, he decided that Tia was the dragon and told them all to punch her down – nice…)

Some of my favorite memories as a kid were heading off with a couple of friends to explore a creek that was about a quater mile from our house. We scaled walls of solid mud and slid into this creek that was infested with all kinds of lovely critters and snakes and spent hours swimming and digging in the sludge. It was our own make-believe world where we could dream up stories of being stranded and rescued by a handsome prince. We were the heroes of our own land, and we usually came home covered in mud from head to toe and had to be hosed off before we were allowed to even think about coming near the house. Those were great times. I want my kids to have adventures like that, though the world we live in today does limit my ability to let them run off into the trees for hours without worrying that some pervert is going to come snatch them away. So sad.

Aaaaanyway, I’m totally getting off track. To go along with this post, I’m including a few pictures of the kids that I took last week. We had a weird day last Friday when it just kind of rained on and off all day long. The kids would beg and plead to go outside and as soon as they did, it started to rain again. Finally, I just tossed my hands up and told them to play in the rain (don’t worry it wasn’t lightening, though had we had as bad a day as we did Thursday, I may have considered sending them out in lightening…I kid – maybe). Needless to say, they had a ball running around in the rain, splashing in puddles and getting nice and dirty. I mean, that’s what being a kid is all about, right?

Today, the phone rang as I was trying to get the two little ones to bed. Sloan, my personal secretary, tore through the house like the Tazmanian Devil to answer the phone first. This is what I heard:
“Hello?”
“Oh, hi! What?”
“Oh, okay.”
“Well, here’s my mom.”

Handing me the phone he says, “Hey mom, it’s Rocko Bama. He wants your bote. He won’t stop talking!”

We were blessed in a lot of ways this past weekend. Friday night we had dinner with some sweet friends who have two boys a little older than Sloan and a little girl Tia’s age. How fun it was to see the kids running around, playing like regular old kids. Sloan doesn’t get the chance to play with boys that often. We seem to be surrounded by girls! So he had a great time running around the house, shooting “guns” and pretending to die! Good times…

Saturday, I went to a blogger’s guild meeting in the early afternoon – more about that later, then we packed the kids up and went out to Six Flags where we ran into our fun neighbors and got to ride a couple of rides with them before they headed home, then off we went to explore the park. Sloan got over some of his own fears and rode a few bigger rides and even ventured down a water slide with Lee (shock!). Sunday we had a sweet morning praising the Lord at church then, after naps, met some friends at the local pool and had a jolly time frolicking about in the freezing water. Whew…busy, but a fun way to begin closing out the summer break.

On to what was an exciting meeting with the St. Louis Blogger’s Guild. Several months ago, I joined this group for a variety of reasons. First, I just love writing and I have missed being around others who enjoy this passion as much as I do. So, it seemed very logical to join up with the guild. Second, meeting new people is not easy for me. I tend to be on the shy side when it comes to meeting people. Lee has helped me get over that to an extent, being the extreme extrovert that he is (and when I say extreme, I mean seriously he can speak to anyone just once and they will be friends for life – ex-treme!) But still, without him, I get tongue tied and quiet and have a hard time connecting. I am blessed with many, many sweet friends through our church and our neighborhood. But reaching out and meeting new people is a challenge so, again, this was a good way to step outside my comfort zone and the anonymity of the internet and make new friends. Finally, well, I won’t lie – I would like to make a buck or two. I know, I’m a money grubber, but you know livin’ ain’t free and it would be fun to have an extra dollar or two (or more…). And why not get paid to do what I love? So, while there is no guarantee that being a part of the guild will bring a financial windfall, there would still be opportunity to make connections with people in the writing community. Finally, I just wanted to learn a little more about blogging. I had no idea how powerful a tool it could be! So, after the meeting on Saturday, I came home very encouraged and excited to be in the presence of people who love to write, who are more knowledgable than I am in the field of writing and blogging and who I so look forward to learning from. A good weekend it was.

This Olympic season has not dissapointed. It’s been thrilling and fun, heartbreaking and triumphant. I nearly cried last night when Lolo Jones hit the ninth hurdle and missed her Olympic gold as a result. I shouted with joy every time Nastia or Shawn hit a great routine. I smiled this morning as I saw the replay of the 21 year old who took gold in wrestling. And, of course, I was thrilled when Michael Phelps received his eighth gold medal. That was just awesome. It’s just been so fun to watch all of the hard work come to fruition for these excellent athletes.

The biggest sense of pride from these games has been watching the athletes in the aftermath of success or failure. They have defined sportsmanship. To see Lolo Jones giving the Australian who took silver in the 100m hurdles a big, congratulatory hug, despite her own heartbreak made me proud. Listening to Nastia Liukin gracefully accept a silver medal when she likely deserved the gold on uneven bars made me smile. Listening to cutie-patootie Shawn Johnson remind us that no matter what, they were all wearing red, white and blue and were there to represent our country made me shout out “Amen sister!” (which, by the way – congrats to both of them for yet another one, two finish on last night’s beam final. They are both phenomenal gymnasts and I had so much fun watching them!) In fact, all the athletes have been terrific, from every country – minus the wrestler who threw his bronze medal down in disgust – go home dude. We don’t need you!

I’m just so proud of all our athletes for working so hard and representing so well. And there are still several days of exciting competition to come! But, I must admit, I am very glad it’s almost over because I’m tired. My interest in the remaining sports is not quite as high so I should be making it to bed a little earlier from here on out. But I will still be catching the higlights and jumping for joy each time I hear our anthem.