Monday, October 27, 2008

One Soft Spot

It has been a long time since we have had any four legged types running around our family. Not that our children have not begged, pleaded, promised endlessly to feed, water, and care for any and every need a critter might need in order to soften the hard heart of their parents. There are lots of really great reasons why we have avoided animals in our home. The main reason, as my husband so kindly puts it: THEY POO!

As our hearts are not made of stone (contrary to the opinion of the three young one we share our home with) we have seemed to find a true soft spot. . . . .



This is Lucky. His personality is as black and white as his spots. I call him ferocious. When he is not looking super cute totally conked out he is running around chasing anything that will move.















This is Sam. I call him recluse. He is Lucky's big brother. Rumor has it the boys' momma is quite popular in Garden City. All the boys just LOVE her. Sam is very laid back and loves to find a dark spot to hide away and take a long, long nap.




At least when he is awake he likes to be helpful. Myranda has been complaining about how heavy her book bag is to carry to school. That's Sam always ready to lend a helping paw.

Sunday, October 5, 2008

Sometimes Life is Stormy

One of the sometimes great things about living where I live in Idaho is that I can see the storms roll in from the west. There are no mountains to obstruct the view of the billowing dark gray rain clouds as they impede on an otherwise sunny skyline. Not only can I observe the storm coming, but I can also see the storm leave as it passes over my house and continues its journey to torment those in the eastern part of the valley. These storms happen all year long. In the winter and fall they move slowly and appear to linger; in the spring and summer they build intensely and move quickly.

Because if how my house sits, I can't always see these storms make their way towards me unless I am outside. From the inside of my home, all is well, and the weather seems beautiful. The sun is shining in the windows, and there are no clouds overhead. I don't realize what is happening in the world around me until I get ready to leave my house. One day last fall I pulled my car out of the garage, with it's concealing blind spot, to come face to face with what was happening in the world outside. As I looked ahead through the window of my car, what was coming was in stark contrast to what I thought was. I remember thinking to myself that those dark clouds had forgotten to check in with Scott Dorval or Rick Lance the local news channel meteorologists, for they had assured us that the rain and cooler temperatures would not be here until the next day.

I had this brief fleeting thought before I started driving towards those black clouds; these types of storms happen every day in life. Sometimes you can see the storm coming and are prepared, and other times it comes out of nowhere. I remember wondering if those clouds represented any meaning for myself that day. I wondered if there were any storms brewing in my life? Was what I thought was happening going to turn out to be much, much different? Usually, most of us can weather whatever storms come our way; those we know about and those we don't. Sometimes we can push through some really big ones, only to find ourselves overwhelmed and flooded by what seems like a small one. Sometimes we have what appears to be endless sunny skies with no worries, and the storms make us angry or resentful, because we really like the sunny skies. There are days that I welcome the darkness, the wind, and the rain because I know something better is on the other side, and other times when I would just rather not. I feel too tired, too battered to withstand even one more rain drop.

Some people feel abandoned or singled out when rough weather hits their life. They feel like the God of heaven and earth has singled them out, that he derives some great sense of sadistic satisfaction from watching their anguish and suffering. They ask unanswerable questions such as "why?" or "how could God turn his back on me like this?" This makes sense to me; I can see why they would ask these questions. For me, I learned a long time ago that there is never a satisfactory question to why. Nor has God ever turned his back on my . .not that it hasn't happened the other way a time or two. I have learned that no matter what . . .my job is to remain faithful through the storm, because He is there no matter what. He sees me, He hears me, and He understands. Life is life. It comes with some beautiful days, it comes with some dangerous days, it comes with some very stormy days. What a beautiful mess.

Saturday, October 4, 2008

Boy, Oh Boy!!

Close the door. "So how have things been this week? Blah, blah, blah. "Oh, okay." Well lets take a look at what we can do to work on that . . . .my phone rings . . . I ignore it because it is not the home phone number, Mike's number, or our friend's number who has the kids, or the school's number. Listen for the buzz that tells me there is a voice mail. Nothing. Okay, not an emergency. On with the session. Yadda, yadda, talk, talk, talk, . . . .knock on the door. Hmmm? Don't they know I am already in session? I open the door, Mary says, "Sorry to interrupt but Stacie is on the phone. Micah split his head open at school. Melanie thinks-O Crap!


Melanie: Hey Stacie . .what's up?

Staice: I have Micah at my house. The school called. He and another boy ran into each other on the playground. Micah has a nice wound on his eyebrow. I think he may need stitches again (again meaning he just had stitches on the opposite eyebrow six months ago.


Melanie: Oh great! Okay, I'm on my way. I should be there in twenty minutes or so. . .

Melanie grabs her stuff, cleans off her desk (I know, I know you're thinking why take the time to clean off your desk just get out of there). There is a really good explanation. Everything is confidential, other people use my office, and I have a reputation to uphold for crying out loud!!!


So Melanie gets in car and speeds off making the twenty minute drive from where I work to where I live. Internal dialogue: Why do I have to work so far away? Why isn't there’s something closer to where we live? What if it is really bad and this delay makes it worse? Is he in a lot of pain? Is he crying a lot? Then the mommy guilt starts to creep in . . .I hate working, I hate being unavailable to my kids every possible minute that they might just need me. I don't like the commute . . .Is this all worth it. Mike and I were just talking about this last night. We both have a twenty minute commute. What if something serious happens? We can't afford to pay our Aflac benefits anymore. It would be nice if you could quite your job and go back to school (speaking of Mike), but we can't afford to pay for insurance without your income. Darn golden handcuffs anyway!


Melanie arrives at Stacie's house and assesses the damage. Micah seems to be okay. He is hanging out with a bag of ice and a towel on his forhead. He shows me his wound. Yep! That laceration is going to require a surgical intervention. Let's go bud!

On the way, Micah tells me the whole story. He was chasing the bad guy and it was sunny out so he had his sun glasses on (Don Johnson style cop chase I guess). He hit the other kids head and feel to the ground. When he fell, his face hit the ground and his sunglasses cut his eye lid. So, I am officially putting all parents on alert! Running with sunglasses on is just as dangerous as running with scissors! I bet your mother never warned you about that. Where was the warning label!!!! You heard it here first!

Micah: "Do I have to go to the doctor?" "I don't want to go to the doctor."

Mom: "Yes, we have to have the doctor take a look at that cut." At which point Micah starts to cry.

Micah:" But I don't want to go to the doctor, it will hurt."

Mom: "I know bud, I am soooo sorry."

Micah (who has stopped crying at this point . ."Do you think I'll get another feel better bear?" Referencing the last trip to the ER.

Mom: "Probably. Hard to say. I am sure they will have something."

Internal Dialogue: We just got the bill from the ER for Mikayla's sprained finger. I really don't want to go the ER because they charge you $300 bucks just to walk through the fancy guarded front door. Wait! St. Luke's just opened an Urgent Care! It’s just down the road. Do they do stitches at an Urgent Care? Let's see 20% of $900 is . . . . too much! I don’t want to pay for another ER trip. Urgent Care it is.

Micah: "Mom we just past the Dr." (ER where last stitches were given). He RECOGNIZES the place!

Mom: "I know, we are going to a different doctor . . . ." drives past St. Al's and goes straight to St. Luke's.


We find the Urgent Care, check in and are seen. Yep. It is confirmed we will need stitches. The nurse puts some "magic medicine" on a piece of gauze and co-ban it around his forehead. Micah now looks like he is ready for his cameo on The Karate Kid. Mom gets out the little round mirror in my purse so he can see himself. He laughs. That is a good sign. The doctor comes in and I guess the magic medicine didn't work all of it's magic because she started cleaning that wound and Micah protested. Not too much, but I could tell it hurt. More magic medicine . . .and wait . .and wait . . .Good thing mom brought her computer. He played Maternational while he waited. Then more cleaning . .still hurts (I guess the magic decided not to show up after all). Micah had to have a shot to numb the area . . .seven stitches later we were good to go. I forgot to mention that last time Micah had stitches it was 11:30 at night and he slept through most of it. This time he was wide awake! I think this one will store away in the memory bank!

We walk out of the Urgent Care about an hour after we got there. No feel better bear, but he is armed with four "Cars" stickers. Initially he decorated his arms with the stickers, but now he proudly displays them on his booster seat.


Micah gets home and rests on the couch. His injury is lovingly covered by a professionally placed band-aid. He doesn't even have a black eye!




This is the injury revealed the next morning after fifteen minutes of trying to get the professionally placed bandaid off of his swollen, bruised eye. I know people who use wax to remove unwanted eye-brow hair. I am thinking a bandaid with strong adhesive will net the same results!



This is Micah's attempt at looking sad and pathetic! He does a pretty good job.


Micah has officially expereinced more trips to the ER and more medical procedures than our entire family combined. This is his third. I guess it is true . . . he's all boy.