Stacey Laho

Here's the "red button" version of our Memorial Weekend. I say "red button" because Alisha has a red button switch she travels back and forth to school with for communication. Every day I record on the "red button" what she did the night before. It's brief but informative. Friday delivered the long awaited Prom event. Our daughter, Hannah, looked stunning in her wedding prom dress. I keep reminding myself I get to spend more money one day when she weds, which I anticipate happening long after we have financially recovered from prom. She felt like a princess, danced like a princess, and looked like a princess. Priceless. Later that evening the rest of the Fam went to Caleb's baseball practice. We don't usually all go to practice. Matter of fact, I strategically work the schedule to see this rarely happens. I always say to our kids, practice is for you to show me in a game what you learned. But alas it made more sense to stop on our way ...

Recently, I received a large envelope with letters to our family. These letters were from children who spent a week at Kids Kamp last summer through Ward Church. This particular camp holds special meaning for our family as it is a way we remember our son, Kodey, who died in October 2002. To honor Kodey's love of Kids Kamp, we set up a scholarship to help children attend who may not otherwise be able to, due to financial strain. Although not required, we often receive letters from the kids who go.   Here is the brochure. The Camp is at Center Lake Bible Camp in Tustin, MI. The hovering fog over the lake in the early morning hours appears mystical.       Here is my boy. I love the grin and eagerness in his eyes to throw that water balloon. It's a perfect image of him as almost everywhere he went became a celebration.     Here is one of the letters we received. I kept the writer's name hidden. But I could not resist sh...

  Fifteen years ago I awoke on Mother's Day crying. My mom was gone. It would be my first Mother's Day without her present. To say I miss her is like leaving this page blank.   I spoke to my mom everyday after I married and had children. Everyday. And I wanted to. She would call it, "Just checking in calls". There was always something to talk about. She was a busy woman volunteering, on bowling leagues, golf leagues, her card club, and being the Proverbs 31 woman with attitude.   On Mondays I talked to her late in the day because Mondays were her days at Angela Hospice. She volunteered with hospice for over 17 years. She began serving with hospice upon their inception through Hospice of Southeastern Michigan. I would hear stories of patients my mom took care of. Some had AIDS. Some were young, like a mom who had given birth few months earlier and suddenly became terminal. Most were old. All were important. It was never an effort to check off a list ...

"A crippled child ain't no less sweet. Keep it up." Some old man approached me while our family spent the evening out for pizza. I smiled and said thank you. Alisha five years old at the time, sat in her tiny wheelchair. Some people speak with eloquence and then... The words lingered with me as we carried on with our family fun night. I kept saying he meant well. And he did. I don't remember exactly how it made me feel but as I read about this stranger's words in my journal from years back, I smiled again. Apparently I knew he peered at our family with eyes of understanding. One of the lessons I've learned over the years of being a mom to a child with severe disabilities is it is not my role to make others understand my world, Alisha's world. Believe me this lesson soaked in slowly. A bit of a social justice in my bloodstream led me more than once to chase down the need to gain understanding. At Target years ago, with Alisha, provided one of thos...

Thoughts of school tomorrow make me giddy. The Chiclets attended a total of eleven days of school since December 20th. But really who would count. I do love a snow day once or twice a year but five in three weeks? Crazy. (That's me, right now.) In case you haven't been outside in, um mm like three weeks, here is a photo of our back yard. Seriously it's been a good week. Lots of good reading instead of picking up after people. I finished a book called, "Riding the Bus with My Sister". Highly recommend it. I'm thinking it should be mandatory high school reading. Today, Caleb's friend Max saved my day. He occupied Caleb for several hours. I sort of felt like I should do laundry and menial work since I took a "snow day" the day before. I stopped to watch them play for a few minutes. I overheard, "How do you like your farts to sound?" followed up by an array of disgusting noises and proud laughter. I quickly retreated to my work. ...

Last month I flew to Charlotte to visit a friend. My father dropped me off at the airport about two hours before my plane departed. He must have been worried I wouldn't know what to do with a chunk of time. He kept suggesting things like, "When I'm waiting for my plane to depart I take a long walk, go get a bite to eat..." I needed no prompting as to how to utilize a break from life. I sent this pic to Jeff immediately upon settling in at my gate. He took the day off to handle the home front. Silence while sipping my coffee. Ahhh.     Next, I sent him this one. He responded, "I'm driving." Wasn't sure if this jargon meant he was jealous I was sitting at an airport reading uninterrupted or I was distracting him because he was driving . Definitely jealousy. Officially on my vacation, I disconnected. My phone off, I engaged in "light" reading, a memoir, about a woman who grew up with a drug addicted mother. I probably...

The Santa Clause: Caleb announced a few weeks ago he's over it. Santa. In whistle blower style, Caleb blabbed the truth so others would recognize his superior perception for the truth, "Santa isn't real. It's you and dad. Hm mph" I responded how I always respond when I one of my kids tries to take this leap into the humbug land, "Fine. But if you don't believe in Santa why would he bother to bring you a present? Hm mph." Because Caleb belongs to a different breed, my words meant nothing, even though Hannah piped in that she believes. Santa and his sleigh flew out of the imagination of my nine year old. The end. Seeing is believing: James, the boy down the street, possesses some overwhelming evidence in favor of Santa. He owns a photo of Santa in front of his fireplace near the Christmas tree from last year's Christmas Eve. Caleb returned from playing at his house last week slightly perplexed but eager to give this Santa guy a second chance. He ...