Blink

I’m not sure how it happened, but it seems that I blinked my eyes and this baby grew up…

Sloan Alexander Stuart

Sloan Alexander Stuart

Blink...

Blink...He's 1

Blink...He's 2

Blink...He's 2

Blink...He's 3

Blink...He's 3

Blink...He's 4

Blink...He's 4

Blink...He's 5

Blink...He's 5

Blink...He's 6 and he's in Kindegarten!
Blink…He’s 6 and he’s in Kindergarten!

I never thought I’d get emotional sending Sloan off to school.  In fact, I haven’t been at all emotional about it…until yesterday when I sat in the cafeteria of his school and it all hit me.  Even though he’s only going a half day (which I’m so thankful for), it’s still a big step in life.  I’m now the mom of an elementary school student.  I am getting information on the PTO. How the flip did I get here?

Sloan had a blast at school.  When asked what his favorite part of the day was, he replied, “Everything.”  He thought riding the school bus was “rockin’ awesome,” and “super loved” gym. 

So there it is.  I blinked and my baby grew up.  And I spent the entire morning blinking hard against the tears that kept pricking my eyes.  Especially after the big yellow bus drove away with my boy inside it’s belly.

Summer '09 143

Blink…blink,blink,blink,blink,sniffle,blink,blink…

The Campout

On Friday, Lee bought a tent.  For some time now, we’ve talked about wanting to campout with the kids.  I have great memories growing up of camping with my family and I wanted to create similar memories for my children.

So, with a little help from some very excited kiddos, Lee pitched a tent in our backyard.  We figured that was the best place to try a first campout in case we needed to bail in the night.  But we did not need to worry!  The kids did fantastic.  They had a ball.  We ate S’mores, put a movie on the garage, let them play until well into the darkness with the neighbor girl, then hosed them off and tucked them into their sleeping bags. 

They fell asleep around 10:30 and slept all night!  I was very proud of them.  Lee, of course, slept in the tent with them.  I did not…

Not because I didn’t want to, ahem, but I wasn’t comfortable with Landon asleep in the house by himself and we don’t own a monitor anymore so I worried he might wake up.  I can’t say I was overly diappointed, though, when Lee stumbled in the house Saturday morning with a sore back and circles under his eyes.

It went so well that this Friday, weather permitting, we’ll do it again.  Only this time we have scheduled Sloan’s very first sleepover so he and two friends will sleep in the tent.  Because we’re gluttons for punishment, I guess.  Lee will sleep with them, of course – only this time, I think he’s using an air mattress!

Enjoy…

Daddy pitching the tent.

Daddy pitching the tent.

So excited...

So excited...

It's up!

It's up!

Much fun was had by all

Much fun was had by all

S'Mores

S'Mores

Tia thoroughly enjoyed hers. Who's surprised?

Tia thoroughly enjoyed hers. Who's surprised?

Time for bed

Time for bed

Landon and Mommy slept well in the house...

Landon and Mommy slept well in the house...

Pancake breakfast in the tent

Pancake breakfast in the tent

It was a fun way to “end” our summer vacation. Today is school orientation and tomorrow is the first day. Stay tuned for a weepy mom post sometime tomorrow. I know…you can hardly wait.

He-ey Wait a Minute Mr. Postman!

Several times a week for the last month or so, when Sloan is home, he’s run out the door as the mailman came by to collect the mail.  I haven’t paid much attention to this – I’ve just assumed he likes having this little responsibility and I’ve been grateful to him for it.

Yesterday afternoon, however, I got a further glimpse into this amazing little boy I get to call my son.  Sloan and I were enjoying a rare moment of quiet together on the front porch when the mailman drove up.  Sloan leapt to his feet and said, “Oh, Herman!”

As he raced down the driveway, I wondered what on earth he meant by “Herman.”  Then I heard him call out, “Hey Mr. Herman!” as the mail truck came to a stop.

Our kind old mailman leaned out the window and replied, “Well hey there Mr. Sloan!”  He handed Sloan our bundle of mail, then he and Sloan proceeded to talk for several minutes.  I just sat on the porch and marveled at my son’s ability to engage this man in conversation.  I’m a grown woman and I’m not even that good at talking to strangers.  And here is my 6-year-old, sharing life with the mailman.

It was so sweet and tender to watch Sloan talk with Herman and to see the delight in Herman’s eyes.  And I felt convicted as I realized that my kindegartner is better at showing the love of Jesus than his stodgy old mom.

After about 5 minutes, Sloan waved good-bye to Herman saying, “Have a great day delivering mail, Mr. Herman!”

“Okay, Mr. Sloan,” Herman replied.  “I’ll see you again soon.”

As he walked up and handed me the mail, Sloan said, “That’s Herman.  He lives in Afton, Missouri.  I like him.”

I’m proud to be Sloan’s mom.  Some days are really, really difficult.  He is a passionate child, which can lend itself to passionate responses, both negatively and positively. 

But Sloan is a lover of people.  He genuinely loves to be with others and he has an uncanny ability to make others feel loved.  He’s so much like his daddy in that regard. 

Needless to say, I was very proud of him yesterday.  It’s amazing what we can learn from our children when we take the time to observe the positive qualities they possess.  Because days can be difficult with Sloan, I sometimes forget to stop and recognize all the goodness and sweetness that God has instilled in him.  He’s a neat kid and I’m so excited to see how God is going to use Sloan’s passion to impact the world.

I also resolved that I need to walk down to the mailbox with Sloan and meet Herman myself.  Because I am not ashamed to follow the example of my child.

Not really Wordless Wednesday: The Last Few Days of Summer

I’m late getting this up but my computer was having issues this morning.  I think it had something to do with the 400 pictures I uploaded.  I’m pretty sure I heard the computer cuss me out as she crashed – twice…  Ah well, enjoy the photos.  I’m sorry about the alignment – not only has the computer given me trouble, but my blog is having issues as well.  It appears all technology is out to make me crazy today.

Oh - he is yummy!

We've visited Gran't Farm...

where we saw bison...

and watched Tia feed the camels. After she fed them 3-4 times without me giving her monye for food, I noticed that she was stanindg under the food bin, blinking up at people with her big blue eyes and they were giving her quarters! Little mooch.

 

After finding the kids asleep like this several nights in a row (Tia is sounds asleep on the hard wood in this shot!), Lee and I finally told them they could camp out under the bed on Friday nights only. I think this is going to become  a fun little tradition for them.

Summer '09 354

They've had sweet fun together this summer, but I think we're all ready for the routine of school to get going!

They've had sweet fun together this summer, but I think we're all ready for the routine of school to get going!

For more Wordless Wednesday, visit 5 Minutes for Mom.

The Health Care Debate

For those of you who read my blog regularly, you know that I rarely dive into politics.  There are two reasons I avoid political posts:

1.) I’m not the most articulate when it comes to expounding upon my political beliefs.  I know how I feel and I believe in my convictions, but I don’t always articulate them well.

2.) This blog was not and is not a forum for me to talk about politics.  It’s a forum for me to talk about my family and about motherhood.  Sometimes, however, politics and motherhood intersect.

Yesterday, Obama’s proposed health care plan hit a little closer to home for our family.  A report came out calling into question the effectiveness of a common medical procedure used to treat those with osteoporosis and compression fractures.  This procedure is called Vertebroplasty and it is the main product that my husband sells.

So yesterday was a stressful day for Lee, to say the least.

The study was apparently conducted in America and in Australia.  Using a group of patients who were all candidates for Vertebroplasty (a procedure in which doctors inject bone cement into the spine to relieve pain from compression), some of the group received the Vertebroplasty injection and the others received a placebo.

According to the study, those who received the placebo had the same measure of pain relief as those who received the cement.  This, they say, reveals that the Vertebroplasty procedure is ineffective and unnecessary.

There are some major flaws in this study, however, and many of those are being revealed today.  First, using the group in America, only 131 patients were willing to even take part in this study.  Out of 1800 people eiligible for Vertebroplasty, only 131 were willing to take their chances on the study.

Second, 6 months after the procedures, the patients, who were still unaware of whether or not they were given the placebo or the Vertebroplasty, were given the opportunity to have the opposite procedure done if they still experienced back pain.  Of the placebo group, 40% opted to have the procedure redone.  Of the Vertebroplasty group only 11% opted to have the procedure redone.

This fits perfectly with Vertebroplasty statistics, which say that the Vertebroplasty procedure has roughly an 89% effectiveness rate.

Finally, as stated in this rebuttal of the study, 131 people is a very small control group.  Even those conducting the study admitted that they had hoped for a group of at least 250.  The fact that so few people were willing to even take their chances on such a study is telling.  Also, not all the facts on the results of the study were given in the report (surprise, surprise):

Per the above cited rebuttal: Pain is often measured on a 0 to 10 scale, with higher numbers indicating greater pain. The studies demonstrate that patients who received the vertebroplasty procedure had reductions in pain of 2.3 and 3.0 points in the two studies, compared to reductions of 1.7 and 2.6 for the facet injection procedure.

So one must ask the question – were the findings of the study really accurate?  Vertebroplasty has helped countless individuals who suffered from severe and chronic back pain.  To say that the mere injection of a placebo, which as the article points out, was not really a placebo but rather a facet injection – a different but still effective treatment (which did not have the same lasting results), is all it took to make these patients feel better is to call all those who experienced relief from Vertebroplasty liars.

What disturbed me most about the Katie Couric piece, however, was this quote regarding the potential to cut medical costs:

These results point to the kind of savings President Obama has said can be achieved, when there are well-designed studies on whether expensive treatments really work.

President Obama’s proposed health care plan has many dangerous facets.  One of them being that the government would get to decide what kind of procedure someone should or shouldn’t receive based on studies that are not accurate or complete.

The government has no business taking control in such an arrogant and presupposing manner.  President Obama is taking our country in a direction that I find frightening and disturbing.  I don’t want the government taking over the private sector.  I don’t want them dictating how I receive medical care, or how my children receive medical care.  It’s dangerous, it’s socialist (and I do not use that term lightly, I guarantee you) and it’s not what many, many Americans want – not just me.

I have a very high and deep respect for the office of President.  Therefore, I try hard to not speak ill of the man who was elected leader.  Though I did not vote for him, I believe that he was placed in his position not by the American people, but by God Himself.  That does not mean, however, that I will silently watch him take my country in a place that I find disturbing.

My respect for the quality of leadership that President Obama is exhibiting, however, is waning fast.  I am proud of the many, many Americans who are standing up for what is right through grassroots movements like the Tea Party movement. I have desired to participate in the St. Louis tea parties, but have not wanted to expose my kids to that so I’ve stayed home.

(It’s not that I don’t want my kids exposed to partiotism, but I want to teach them to respect the office of President as well and find it difficult to do that at a protest rally.  It’s just my personal opinion.)

I urge those of you who are participating in the tea party protests to continue to lift up the desires and concerns of the American people.  Political office is not about exerting power.  It’s not about getting your way or laughing in the face of the constituents.  It’s about listening to the desires of those you lead and in wisdom and humility being willing to take their concerns into consideration and truly do what’s best for the whole of your country.

I know President Obama will never read my blog – but if he did, I would urge and implore him to open his eyes to the conerns of America.  Do not placate us with political rhetoric.  Don’t talk down to us as though we are selfish children in need of reprimanding.  We love our country and all we want is for our leaders to listen to us.

I also urge those who are protesting to do so respectfully and civilly.  Angry riots and aggression will not accomplish our goals.  We cannot stoop to that which they are trying to push us – namely fighting , yelling, screaming and rioting.  We must show them that a civilized America respects one another.

Obviously this Vertebroplasty study hits me a little differently than it would most people.  But it is one more example, in my opinion, of how the government is losing sight of what’s in the best interest of the people.

And that, my friends, is the end of my soap box.  I shall not climb up again, at least for a little while.

Have you seen me?

If I believed in karma, I’d say we were getting a good dose of it. 

If I believed in fate, I’d say she was out to get us. 

But I don’t believe in those things.  I do, however, believe that our dog sensed the fact that we were thinking about finding her a new home.  And I think she took matters into her own hands paws.

Sadie ran away yesterday.  She’s run off before, but never for very long.  Usually she stays pretty close to home and comes back quickly.  But when she wasn’t home after a couple of hours yesterday, I knew something was up.  I’ve called the Police Department and animal control.  I even drove almost all the way to Illinois this morning to the shelter to see if she had been brought in.  But so far, no one has seen her.

This is not how I wanted it to end with Sadie.  I wanted to find her a good, loving home where she would be taken care of and loved better than we were able to love her.  And, oh my, the tears from my kids today have broken my heart.  Sloan just brought me this drawing that he made for Sadie.

In case you can't read it, it says, I Love You Saedie. Love, Sloan.

In case you can't read it, it says, I Love You Saedie. Love, Sloan.

So I am now going to print out some flyers to hang around the surrounding neighborhoods and see if anyone has her.  We’ll see.  Perhaps getting rid of her will be easier this way, but it sure seems like a sad way to lose our sweet dog.  I didn’t want this for her.  She really is a good little dog.  If you live in Ballwin and see her, let me know!

Sweet Sadie

Sweet Sadie

Re-Post: Literal Art and the Worst Toy Ever Created

I’m exhausted today and I have mountains of laundry chasing me through the house like a really, really bad horror film. So I’m not going to even try to be original this morning. I’m just going to repost one of my favorites. The reason I pulled this one out is because my kids are marching through the house with that d*@# bird right now intent on driving their poor mama crazy.

Good times.  Do enjoy, for a second time…

So Sloan came home from school with this masterpiece the other day. He was very proud of it. I placed it in the window in our kitchen. When Lee came home he looked at it told Sloan how cool it was. “What is it? What does it represent?” he asked.

“It’s just bread and goldfish,” Sloan responded, looking up at Lee as if he had just sprouted a second head.

Riiiight. So, it’s clearly not abstract art.

In other Lee stories (I post these with his permission), the other night Sloan and Tia were running around the house after their bath. They like to run “in their nakeds” as Sloan says. Apparently Sloan tripped and twisted his foot. He cried pretty hard and it was his “I’m really hurt” cry as opposed to the “I’m just making noise” cry. So Lee spent some time putting pressure on the foot and turning it to make sure there wasn’t any real damage.

Then, in what was an apparent attempt to be funny gone terribly awry, Lee told Sloan to stand on his feet, then reach down and touch his toes. When Sloan reached down, Lee pushed him. He was hoping to make Sloan laugh and forget about his pain. Instead, Sloan fell on his face and twisted his wrist underneath him. So now the concern was not whether he had broken his foot, but his wrist.

Sheesh. Boys (eyeroll).

Then, yesterday Lee came home for work all bright eyed and excited.

“Where are the kids?” he asked. “I’ve got a surprise for them.”

I was in the nursery trying to clean out the closets and drawers of all the clothes that no longer fit. I heard Lee tell the kids to sit down on the couch and close their eyes.

“Now, this is something for you guys to share.”
At this point, my heart fell slightly because my kids and sharing do not mix well. Then, I heard a bag crinkling and Lee told the kids to open their eyes. This is what I hear.

“Oh boy! Thanks dad! It’s a talking parrot!”

At this point I almost cried and let me tell you why. When we go to my parents condo, there is a man that lives down there that is precious and he loves kids. Every time we come, he brings this fake, talking parrot that repeats everything you say to Sloan to play with. After about ten minutes of Sloan screaming at the parrot and it screaming back at him, I generally feel a migraine coming on. That bird always mysteriously ends up on the very highest shelf, where he stays until we leave and have to give it back to Mr. Neal. This is the exact bird toy that Lee bought for the kids. It’s like a cruel joke. When he came in the bedroom he was all smiles.  “They love it!” he said.

“Are you mad at me?” I asked. “Have I done something to offend you in any way?”

It was at this point that he realized what he had done. He started laughing, and God love me, I tried to laugh with him, I really did. Then he offered a mild apology. “It’s just so fun to shop at Cracker Barrell,” he said.

So now, as I post this, Sloan and Tia are in the basement screaming at the top of their lungs at the parrot and laughing hysterically as it screams back at them. And I am secretly plotting revenge on my husband.

A Man and His Dog

When I returned home from Florida Tuesday night, the first thing I thought as I walked through the door was NOT, thank God I’m home.

Instead I thought, What the *BLEEP* is that smell?

Ahem.

You see, the kids and I were gone for 14 days.  For 5 of the 14 days, Lee was also gone.  For the remaining 9 days that he was home, he worked long hours which means our dog had the run of the joint for 14 DAYS.

And our house smelled like a dog had been living in it for 14 days.  She’s a good dog so there were no accidents on the floor (bless her heart) but the house just smelled like a dog.  And an old person…I don’t know what to think about that…

I don’t know how Lee survived because I could hardly breathe.  The only room that didn’t suffocate me, thankfully, was my bedroom.  And her bed is in our bedroom, which leads me to believe that when we’re away, she sets up shop in the living room.

But not on the furniture because she’s not allowed. 

And I walked the length of my couch with my nose pressed to the fabric and my butt up in the air inhaling deeply just to make sure that she obeyed the rules while I was gone.  Unless she figured out how to cover her tracks (which clearly, given the stench in the rest of the house, she has not), it appears that she is indeed staying off the couch.

So yesterday I hauled my kiddos to the store where I stocked up on Pine-Sol, Swiffer Wet Jets, Pledge, rags and food since my husband apparently lived on chips and salsa while we were gone.  Since the weather here is still bizarrely beautiful, I opened the windows, kicked nudged the kids out the door and gave my house a good old fashioned scrubbing.

I think it helped a little.  But only a little.  Now I’m just paranoid.  I keep rounding corners and sniffing the air (a bit like a dog myself) and I swear I still smell that oldladymustydog smell.  Not that I think old ladies smell like musty dogs or anything.  You know, it’s just sometimes – oh, never mind…

I think we need to get new carpet, really.  But I don’t want to buy new carpet, because Lee and I are already talking about the trip we want to take next year for our 10th anniversary (it’s gonna be good), and I don’t want boring carpet to take the place of an awesome vacation.  Is that so wrong?

Honestly, I’ve illuded to it before, but we really are thinking about giving our dog away.  She’s a great dog – we seriously couldn’t have found a better family dog.  She’s sweet, great with kids, fun, obedient, hardly eats anything at all, which means it costs next to nothing to keep her and so on and so on.  The problem is that she is a bit needy.  She requires a lot of attention – a lot more than we’re able to give her.  And she’s extremely athletic and we don’t have time to give her the proper exercise.

In short, I feel like she’s leading a sad little life with us and would be better with a family that actually had the time for her.

But every time I think about giving her away I get cold feet.  She has become a part of the family whether we like it or not and it breaks my heart to think of abandoning her. 

So I’m not sure.  If I knew I could find a home where she would be loved and well taken care of, I think I’d be able to do it – but I won’t just give her to anyone.  And I refuse to take her to the pound.  There’s no way I could live with that.

What do you think we should do?  Should we tough it out and keep her with us or find her a new home?  Ah!  It’s a dilemma.

Nine Years

To a man who constantly makes me laugh, makes me wonder, loves me well and is making all my dreams come true, I say Happy Anniversary.

This was us then:

July 22, 2000

July 22, 2000

 

Honeymoon in Orcas Island off the coast of Seattle

Honeymoon in Orcas Island off the coast of Seattle

Awwww...Ferrying to Victoria, British Columibia

Awwww...Ferrying to Victoria, British Columbia

And here we are now:
Sadly, I could not find a single recent picture of just the two of us - but given that our greatest accomplishment as a married couple are these three kids, I found this shot fitting...

Sadly, I could not find a single recent picture of just the two of us - but given that our greatest accomplishment as a married couple are these three kids, I found this shot fitting...

It hasn’t always been easy, but truth be told, it hasn’t been that hard.  God has blessed our marriage beyond my wildest dreams.
Lee, I love you.
And I look forward to the next 51 years, 4 months, 22 days +…

Heavy and Light

Sometimes my heart whispers to me.  Does yours?

It usually happens in the still moments, most often at night, when all the commotion of the day is done and the quiet overtakes me.  Sometimes, my heart whispers so ferociously that I cannot sleep.

The whispers are often sweet, though I confess that when the darkness engulfs me, these whipsers can be terrifying. 

Lately, my heart has been aching.  And as I ache, the whispers have begun to move into my everyday thoughts.  It’s distracting.  But it’s also good.  You see, I find that when my heart is whispering, I generally turn the whispers into prayers.  If the whispers are causing fear, I pray for peace and sweet release (I’ve had terrible whispers of bad things happening to my children and I’ve spent many a night praying that the Lord free me from fear.)

If the whispers are sweet, I turn them into songs of praise.  Like last night, as I sat in a chair on the beach watching the sunset, my playing children framed in a halo of orange and red – the whispers were grand – very, very grand.

Were I not surrounded by a group of strangers, I may have voiced the whispers out loud.  But that is not my personality and so I just just sat, my heart swollen, and drank in the scene before me.

Sometimes, the whispers are sadness.  These are the heart whispers I have the most difficult time with.  The sad whispers are the ones that forbid me to sleep.  When the whispers are sad, I pray that the Lord turn the mourning into dancing.  But, in the still of the night, the sadness can sometimes feel too big, too great to become anything but a mournful hollow at the base of my throat.

When the light comes in, however, and the darkness has fled, the whispers once again remind me that I have a God who is far bigger than the whispers of my very human heart.  As cliche as that may sound, I believe it with all my might. 

Trusting God is hard sometimes.  It shouldn’t be, of course, but given my tendency to want to control and fix things on my own, such independence leaves little room for trust.  I’m working on that.  I need to work harder on it in the daylight hours so that the nighttime would be more peaceful.

Because I have bags under my eyes, and I’m much too vain to have bags under my eyes!

I’m excited to come home and be in my house, with my routine and my husband – that will help quell the sad whispers a bit.  As will time, and the Lord’s gracious healing that I await with expectancy.  (It’s a healing of a spirit that’s needed – we are all well.  And my heart whispers a litany of grateful praise for that…)

That was heavy, wasn’t it?  Writing about the heaviness of my heart eases the burden a bit.  There’s something grand in sharing a burden with others.

__________________________________________________

But enough of that.  Now for the light.

What is greater than a group of kids, enjoying ice cream on a hot summer’s day?  I’ll answer that for you…

img_6604

Nothing.