Cool Story

"A few years ago, at the Seattle Special Olympics, nine contestants, all physically or mentally disabled, assembled at the starting line for the 100-yard-dash, but with a relish to run the race to the finish and win. All, that is, except one little boy who stumbled on the asphalt, tumbled over a couple of times, and began to cry. The other eight heard the boy cry. They slowed down and looked back. Then they all turned and went back. Every one of them. One girl with Down's Syndrome bent down and kissed him and said: "This will make it better." Then all nine linked arms and walked together to the finish line. Everyone in the stadium stood, and the cheering went on for several minutes.
People who were there are still telling the story. Why? Because deep down we know this one thing: What matters in this life is more than winning for ouselves. What matters in this life is helping others win, even if it means slowing down and changing our course. A fellow teacher shared that story with me. I believe it speaks volumes about what is important. As you read this chapter on leadership, ponder what type of leader do you want to be. One that wins at all cost, or one that stops to help out others along the way. Food for thought!"

From BMGT 1327 Lesson 12, by Dr. Kevin Eason

Rotten Day

I took Sara to the dentist this morning because she had a toothache. Theron threw up in the parking lot and I couldn't cancel because it's been bothering her for a week and it took that long to get her in. It turned out to be an infected baby tooth so they decided to pull it and the one next to it. Theron threw up again and was asking to go home. $86 and tons of whining and vomit later and we're ready to go home. Only we can't because when Theron was tossing his cookies I tossed my keys onto the front seat instead of into my purse. So we had to wait another half hour for my wonderful husband to leave work and come rescue us. Stopped at the store to get some Motrin and headed home to find that the freezer AGAIN failed to defrost and I will have to call the appliance repair guy AGAIN for the same stinkin' problem AGAIN. I'm going to go to bed now so my day can't get any worse.

Runnin'

I'm runnin' in the rain, just runnin' in the rain, what a glorious feeling I'm happy again! To the tune of 16 miles in soggy shoes! 70 degrees and sprinkling was perfect weather for a long run. About 4 miles in it really started to shower and I splashed through more puddles than dry spots. The weird thing is at first when the rain was light, there were tons of people out running. As soon as the rain picked up they all disappeared. Where did they go? Even if I had wanted to get out of the rain, I was still 4 miles away from my car. Did they know the exact moment it was going to start pouring and plan their runs accordingly? As for me, I haven't had time for more than 12 or 13 miles these last few weeks, so I wasn't going to let a little rain get in the way this morning. Not only that, but I haven't been out to my favorite part of the trail in a long time, it's beautiful and wooded and smells really good and this time of the year some trees have calendars or something because they know it's September and their leaves are already starting to change colors. Not that I could enjoy the scenery much as I was looking down playing snail dodge. The only thing grosser than crunching a snail is getting one stuck in your tread and crunching it for then next 10 steps. At one point I looked down and noticed water squirting out of my shoes with each step. The rain let up for the final 8 miles, but I still had to wring water out of my skort before I got into the car. BTW-skort is a stupid word but super-comfortable to run in. Skort.

Michael Theron Jackson

My kids have followed the media trend of ridiculing MJ until he died, then idolizing him. So they listen to a cd EVERYDAY that has "Smooth Criminal" on it. They listen to that track OVER and OVER. Theron has a special dance that he does but he won't let me take a video :( But he will occaisionally sing the chorus for me which, in his mind, goes " Ani get your wookie, won't you tell us 'bout your wookie, Ani; Ani get your wookie, Ani get your wookie, get your wookie Ani." Guess when you're a 4-year-old boy everything revolves around Star Wars.

Long way round

Chevy knew the days of the week. On Saturday, if dad sat down to play the piano she would stand with her front paws on the bench and howl until he took her for a walk. Every other day of the week he could play in peace. In later years she knew that on Sunday evenings we would pack up the family, including her, and go to Grandma's for dinner. Any other day of the week she would watch us leave, but on Sunday she knew we were going to Grandma's and would get in the car. Oddly, she never tried to go to church with us in the morning (until she was old and senile). She also showed a great propensity for the english language. She knew all of her toys by name. She knew fun words like "kitty" and "squirrel" or "biscuit." She also knew scary words like "bath."
Tahoe knows fashion. He knows when I'm dressed in my running clothes he will probably get to go for a run, so he dances in front of the closet where his leash is. If I come out of my room in my pj's in the morning he just mopes around. However, he doesn't know the days of the week. I never take him running on Saturdays, yet he always gets excited on Saturday mornings when he sees my running clothes.
Miles is a criminal mastermind. He acts like a complete retard, but underneath this facade is an evil genius. If he wants to chew something he will sneak, undetected, into the kids' rooms where he will find a stuffed animal, or a lego, or some other delicacy, then slink to his corner and gnaw away. If he wants attention he will do the same sort of sneaking, but once he obtains his prize he will prance around the house tail waving proudly until someone tackles him and forces his jaws open to reclaim the treasure. He loves to go for morning runs, but hates the "gentle leader" which he regards more as a vicious muzzle-pinching torture device that robs him of the pure joy of dragging me through the streets. So we do this dance everyday where he runs up to the leash, but when I go to put the harness on he ducks and backs away. Over and over until I get frustrated and go without him, or catch him by the collar and force it on him. Today I thought I would be smart. I opened the front door just a crack and knelt by it calling him. He came over and saw that I had the leash and harness and backed off. Then he saw the open door. I opened it wider, he eyed me then the door; I opened it even wider, he eyed me, then the door. Finally he got up and walked around me to where there was a big exercise ball (why was it there? I don't know.). He stood up on his hind legs and used his front legs to roll the ball in front of me then tried to get around it and duck out the door. Fortunately I caught him before he succeeded.

Be Prepared

The week in South Dakota was nice and relaxing. It was nice to cool off for a week. Also nice to be home in my own house! I will skip all of Theron's goofy stories but one: We were at Ben's brother Bob's house for a marshmallow roast in the backyard firepit. Kids were running every where and a number of adults were manning the fire. I was roasting a few mallows and helping to assemble s'mores when Theron ran past. "Theron, would you like me to roast a marshmallow for you?" I asked. "Sure," he replied, "I've got one here in my pocket." Sure enough he pulls a full-sized marshmallow out of his little pocket and hands it to me for toasting. He's already living the Boy Scout Motto; Be Prepared. I think we all should keep mallows in our pockets in case we come across an opportunity to roast them!

Scalped!

Theron was hit by a flying Tomahawk blade today. Someone was swinging a hand-made-at-scout-camp tomahawk around the kitchen and the stone blade flew off and smacked Theron in the forehead. I waffled for awhile, but when it was still oozing enough blood to soak through a bandaid hours later I took him to urgent care. The dr. was a jerk and did a lousy job of numbing him, which is to say he was not numb, Theron that is, not the jerk numb-nuts dr. So he cried while the guy stitched him which was really hard to watch. Then he prescribed an antibiotic and said that he wanted to see Theron again in 2 days to check for infection. Um, no, I will not bring my child back to you Mr. Sadistic, I'd rather take him to his creepy pediatrician.
On that note, Dad damaged himself on a bike ride with Biffy and I on Saturday morning. I have to say that even injured he is a better cyclist than I.