Why Standing on a Bar Stool is Not a Smart Idea

So this post has not been written with the primary need to share any of my specific spiritual reflections that God has revealed to me with in the last few days (one such writing is currently in the works), but rather to dispense a little wisdom and perhaps a little amusement at my expense. DON'T USE A BAR STOOL FOR A STEP STOOL.

There is a reason as to why standing on a bar stool is not a smart idea. Infact, using the bar stool as a quick substitution for the step stool was perhaps one of the most hair-brained, stupid ideas of my life. Yep, while I was in the act of hanging up new wall hangings in my kitchen, which had already been one aggrivating endeavor as it was, I decided to grab the bar stool instead of wasting my time and energy going upstairs into my closet to retrieve the wonderful invention called the "step stool." See we painted a new color in the kitchen over the weekend and I was on the mission to complete the new look. Instead of waiting for Scot, "the picture hanging guy" in this household, I embarked on this project by myself and it was a frustrating one.

Well, after some time had passed and I had succeeded with out falling, I decided to go up again for one more quick look at the wall hangings to make sure they were indeed secure and would not fall off the wall and hit me on top of my head while I was washing dishes or something; and okay one of the hangings was a tiny bit crooked too. So in haste I quickly grabbed the bar stool again, and since I had managed well thus far in my attempts to stand upon it, I may not have been as precise and careful as before.

Not sure what happened, but I suddenly found myself free falling, as the stool headed off in one direction and I in the other. I even found myself thinking as I was falling that this was indeed most certainly going to hurt. I landed with a sharp, hard thud to my right hip and low back with my elbow and head slammed the hard laminate floor soon thereafter.

I hit the floor narrowly missing the stove top. As I hit, I remember being stunned with pain all over. It was a hard fall. A bad fall. A nasty fall. I even remember hearing the sound of my cross necklace slamming onto the floor. I grimaced in pain while at the same time thanking God that I had not only missed the corner of the stove but that I had trained Skye a while back on how to dial 9-1-1 in the event of me having such an encounter as the one I had just experienced.

The girls came running into the kitchen asking if I was okay and what happened. I just gasped for air and shook from pain and nerves. I started to catch my breath and then I began to cry this deep cry I guess...a cry the likes the girls have never heard because they ran out of the room and started to laugh everytime I moaned. I tried to evaluate my wounds and turned onto my back and faced up towards the direction I had just come from. I calmed myself down and convinced myself that I was not dying and that I was not hemorrhaging from my wounds or anything. The girls came back into the room as I still layed on my back stunned from the fall. "Should I call 9-1-1? Do I need a neck brace or a back board? What would my dad do? (Side note in case you were curious: my dad is a retired paramedic) Should I call Scot?" I thought to myself. For some reason I thought that calling Scot who was busy working at work, none-the-less, was good idea.

Skye retrieved the phone and I called Scot who sounded very concerned and was about to leave work when a new thought entered my mind. Scot has taken so many days off from work for all of our family's medical needs and such that I just didn't want him to take yet another afternoon off, possibly stealing it from any other possible day in the future that could be dedicated for any family time as the summer is drawing to a close and no vacations or any such event has occurred this year. Then what really hit me, what made me really get off the floor was the medical bills. I am so gosh darn tired of medical bills and doctor visits and to add one more to our ever growing list just didn't sit well with me ESPECIALLY for such a careless act as I had just done and so while on the phone with Scot, and as Skye returned the bar stool to its rightful place, I slowly sat up and eventually made it to my feet, hurting all the way.

Several hours have passed since my unfortunate mishap with the bar stool and I find myself with a headache, low back and hip pain as well as pain in my neck, elbow and wrists. As I write this, I am trying to find any positive statements or spiritual correlations here to write and it has been like "pulling teeth here a little bit" but I did and it is as follows: Make sure your foundation is firm so to speak. Make sure that what you are stepping on in your "faith" is firm, strong and balanced; and if it isn't, take the time to pray that God will help you shed the burdens of sin or doubt or whatever it may be that is making it unstable.

And with that said I am going to sign-off for the night. God Bless.

Update

Well, I guess there is no other way to say it, I guess well my Lil' Pais is just well...well...she is just a bit on the klutzy side I guess, but I love her just the same!

Scot took Paisley to get her eyes checked this morning and he came home and reported that she did wonderfully and behaved very well. The doctor even commented on her such good behavior. She enjoyed all the different eye examinations. Sounds like she may need glasses in the future but not presently. She does have some astigmatism, but does not need to be addressed currently.

I am happy that she is fine and that we got her precious little blue eyes checked anyways. I would have hated it if she had a problem that did not get addressed in a timely manner.

Still trying to get all of Little Man's appointments lined up. Hopefully, it will all get resolved today and we can finally talk to an actual human being instead of a lovely voicemail and get his tests on the books. Praying for patience here as this will be the fourth day of trying.

And Another One for the Mazda!

In the middle of trying to cook dinner and feeding Ian this evening, the phone rang and it was Scot. I was a little stressed out and a little winded too. Scot remarked that he was sorry that he hadn't made it home yet. I rolled my eyes expecting to hear him say that he hadn't left work yet or that he thought of another errand to run or something. He continued on to say that a 17-year-old backed up into the Mazda when he was waiting in line to get gas.

Quickly my mind went to our poor Mazda. The Mazda that is really beginning to show her age. The little car with all her dents and scrapes. The little car that has the check engine light that keeps coming back on, even when we fix and address what we believe to be the problem. The little car that I am beginning to be embarrassed driving. First of all, Scot never bathes or waxes that poor car. Its dirty, lacks a good shine and her interior smells. Secondly, her appearance is well...is well...not much can be said about her appearance anymore. The over coat is leaving her trunk. She had fallen victim to a BB gun attack years ago and had suffered some tiny dents from that cruel teenage prank. Then on one windy day, a Burger King sign slammed into her door. And the countless other dents from other car doors and their careless masters. And she never was quite the same after a run in with a tow truck once. Her radio doesn't always work and her transmission likes to jump randomly out of the blue sometimes. Her driver side key hole is really a hole now as a piece has rendered itself missing now.

Yep, what crossed my mind was "And another one for the Mazda!" So then Scot explains how there was indeed a new dent and scratched paint but that the young man apologized and quickly exchanged information with Scot. The boy was nervous and shaking. Then what came out of my husband's mouth next appalled me! "You did what?! That's it?! Now the Mazda is going to look even more like a 'Po' dunk piece of trash' then she is already!" Yep, Scot let the boy pay $10 worth of Scot's tank of gas! Didn't quite seem fitting in my mind anyways.

"That's it!" I remarked. Scot then said something that struck me. Struck me hard. The kind of remark you wish they didn't say. The kind of remark that makes you realize something about yourself. Scot said he wanted to extend the teenager grace as someone did him many years ago. "OUCH!" I thought to myself.

And then I quickly thought of the CROSS. God extended grace to us. The only difference between Scot's grace and God's grace is that God didn't do it on the mere fact that someone had extended it to Him. In fact, His Son Jesus Christ received the opposite. God didn't expect anything in return. He is the ultimate example of GRACE. And although Scot's grace was a bit different, it made me think of God's GRACE and the CROSS. All one must do is accept His grace as the teenager did with Scot tonight.

And now when I look at those two new dents, I will be reminded of God's grace. AMEN!

Another Black Eye

When you look through my scrapbooks and photo albums, you may notice something about Paisley. In several photos of Paisley through various ages in her growing-up, she has black eyes and some kind of bump or bruise to her face and head. Some were caused just by her learning how to walk and others were part of that phase that I think every toddler goes through. The phase of tripping over their own two feet causing scraped knees and such. Well, Paisley is also notorious for walking into things. Things that are pretty much right infront of her. Things that one would think that atleast her peripheral vision would pick-up on.

Every Friday we head out for some kind of dinner out whether its something quick or some nice sit down dinner somewhere. It's our end of the week tradition. We picked Red Robin last week. It is a perfect place to take a family with kids. It's nice and loud! Yep, loud! When you have little ones such as I do it's always nice to eat out when you are not worried about your table neighbors giving you a glare should your child have a relapse in judgement and act up at dinner or something. I mean what child never acts up at dinner, right? Okay, so now I am off point here.

I was following the host and leading my family to our table. Scot was bringing up the rear. We approached our table and as always I started to plan our seating arrangements. I turned around to check my family and start placing children where I saw fit when I saw Scot bent over placing Ian, who was in his carrier, onto the floor and Paisley who was whaling and holding her face. As Scot comforted her I quickly sat Skye and retrieved Ian. As Scot soon sat at the table with Paisley in tears we evaluated what had just occurred. "What happened?" I asked. Scot replied "She walked right smack into the chair." Scot then remarked that he couldn't believe that she didn't see it. He didn't understand how she ran into it. Then Scot and I remarked how she always seems to do it and how. I asked her if she was okay and she just whimpered in her daddy's arms. Scot and I continued on with our discussion. "Looks like yet another black eye." "Can't believe she is going to have another one." "May be we should get her eyes checked." Then Scot and I stopped in our tracks so to speak.

I could tell the same thought popped in his head as did mine. Our pediatrician recommended it months ago after seeing Paisley with a black eye. WE FORGOT!! How could we have forgotten!! I felt horrible. Little Paisley had gotten overlooked during Skye's illness and Ian's kidney scares. Poor Paisley, the middle child, got lost in the shuffle of it all and I felt horribly. I had vowed before Ian had come that Paisley would not become the lost middle child and what on earth had I already done!

And sure as some of my friends commented to me this weekend, I had a lot on my plate and those were abnormal circumstances, but still it didn't make me feel any better. Paisley didn't deserve that especially with her being a trooper lately. She was shuffled here and there and left with that person and this person during Skye's hospitalization. She saw Skye come home with all the flowers, treats and get well gifts and she got almost nothing. Soon after Skye's PICC line was removed, she was moved into Skye's room in preparations for Ian's arrival and she lost her bedroom. Soon after little brother was born, her beloved passy was taken from her to save her teeth, for which the teeth she didn't give a darn about, and then she was potty trained shortly there after.

But you know what? She did it with such grace. All of it. Bless her heart. Such grace. Hardly any complaints. Even though I failed in one area and my middle child got lost in the mix for a bit, when I think about Paisley I think of her grace and how she just kept on keeping on. Even when I was unable to spend as much quality time with her as I had hoped when Skye was supposed to be at preschool but was home sick instead with H1N1 and later pneumonia and then a 2nd chest infection. Paisley never complained. She is a strong little girl and I have to trust in God that although at some point we plan on a 4th child, Paisley is our middle child for now and He knew she could handle it. He knew what He was doing.

Anyways...with all that said, Scot and I were able to quickly schedule an appointment for her this week! The appointment was set up so smoothly, unlike her brother's appointments at the moment for his ultra sounds and renal scan. Three days of trying and we still have not been able to speak to the scheduler personally. Must trust that that will all work out soon too and God has a handle on that as well. Anyways...Paisley's appointment is early tomorrow morning and we shall see how her little blue eyes are doing.