Failure to Thrive Syndrome

I am smiling again. I got my wife back after a long, long absence. When we anticipated being empty-nesters, I did not guess that it would be me alone in the nest. After our wonderful trip to the UK and Switzerland, Sheila stayed in London and partied with Chelsea; then visited Darcee in Portland to help with Keith's treatment; and finally went to Eugene to hang out with Little Evelyn. To say I missed her would constitute a ginormous understatement. Seriously, there were moments were I was pretty sure I wouldn't (and couldn't) make it another day.

For centuries, nursery workers have been aware of an obscure diagnosis to explain mysterious infant and children motality--Failure to Thrive Syndrome. I was pretty sure that I was suffering from this potential fatal ailment. While visiting my attending physician, Dr. Brett DeGooyer, for some minor lumbago symptoms, he in fact, verified the diagnosis. I have always thought him a wise physician, but his ability to hone in on this diagnosis like a laser shot, was well, beyond impressive. Fortunately, the cure for this most serious of conditions is pretty simple--gobs and gobs of TLC. The She-wolf is back in the nest, so friends and family members need not worry that I continue to suffer, nor that my life is still precipitously dangling in doubt.

In describing my near death experience to a doubting friend, I felt the need to show him the prescription written by my doctor. I have attached this very real and valid document lest there are others that doubt my experience, or are simply curious about this diagnosis. Regardless, rest assured that I am once again thriving and happy!

How Do You Measure A Man?

I'm helping my dad make his Halloween costume this year. In an effort to complete his costume in an efficient and accurate manner I sent him an email asking him for his measurements.

Here is his EXACT response:

Syd: The obvious answers are as follows: 1. All the way around the largest part of your chest: Massive and strong like a bull 2. All the way around the largest part of your arms: Massive and hard like hammers 3. Shoulder to shoulder: Massive and muscular like the demigods. 4. Waist: Tiny and svelte I’m sure 5. Belly button to knee: Long and strong like an Olympian. Actually, I don’t know any of these measurements. So I’ll have to go home and measure and then let you know tomorrow. thanks so much for doing this. -Dad After receiving this email, I promptly emailed my mom for some help. She measured my Dad and sent back an email, but not before my Dad was able to type several "additions" to the correct measurements.

Here is an EXACT copy of the second email:

syd: thanks so much for your help. Our clan must stick together. and now for my pathetic stats: Chest: 44 --huh? You mother apparently doesn't know how to take a simple measurement. Arms: 15.5--say what? why do they look like massive anacondas when I pose in the mirror after showering then?! Waist: 35--Hmmmm? Must be measuring in centimeters. There is no possibility that my "Big Ab" is girthier than 32". Belly to knee: 21. No comment. I have always been a Hobbit. Shoulder to shoulder: 19--who knew that measuring tapes could be defective, and that your mother would be so careless as to buy a defective item. Thanks mucho! After reading both of these emails, I realized one thing: My father is an immeasurable man in more ways than one.

We really were in the Swiss Alps--Honest!

Okay. I know this picture looks totally fake, but we really were in the Swiss Alps. Rocky took this and for some reason we all look "photo-shopped" into the picture. This was the scene of a James Bond movie "On Her Majesty Secret Service" circa 1968. Sheila is positive that I could do some of the cool stunts from the movie. Her willingness to believe some of what I tell her is just one of many reasons why I love her so much.

Our Swiss adventure was most excellent--thanks to our hosts: Rocky, Sarah and E!

Our wonderful Swiss hosts--Rocky and Sarah, who despite having only arrived in country a couple of weeks ago, were willing to host us for a few days.

Amazing and beautiful No. 2 Daughter--Chelsea

E milking a Swiss cow.

E milking another Swiss cow.

Our traveling troupe looking back at some of the treacherous roads that could only be handled by James Bond and Rocky Smart.

50 in France, 51 in Switzerland, 52 in ...

Sheila spent her 50th birthday in Paris. Today she is spending her 51st birthday in Switzerland. She kept telling us she didn't want to have a big party where people pity her because she's getting old. She wanted to go someplace quiet and private. Well, I'm not sure either Zurich or Paris qualifies as quiet or private, but at least it's someplace fun. It's hard to pack presents for her birthday so she's really gone without any big celebrations the last two years, but somehow I think the trips alone were sufficient presents. Besides its hard for us to shop for Sheila because she has fairly particular tastes and likes to do her own shopping. So a trip really is the perfect gift. This is her 11th foreign country. I'm embarrassed even saying that because Switzerland is Chelsea's 30th foreign adventure. (Very few people can compete with Chelsea.)

Empty nesters...hmmm... Seems weird just saying those words. Sheila's life has singularly been focused on our children and our home. Bearing 6 children and raising 5 of them to adulthood, caring for every lost soul within her reach and taking care of me ( ie, keeping me from derailing), has been an enormous undertaking. Its time for Sheila to enjoy time doing what she wants; and going places that interest her. For many years our family vacations have been centered on traveling to Utah and trying to stay connected to family. We are all excited for Sheila to focus on Sheila and enjoy her life. So, a big Smart family shout out and Happy Birthday to the one person who has made our family what it is. Happy Birthday, Sheila!

Be True to Your School

I was outraged to view the two comments to Chelsea's unsubtle, recent post about our various schools. In no way was the picture of her supposed "mascot" convincing of superiority. Yes, she did put it last, but is that really showing equality or was it a tactic to help those deciding on a mascot? "I don't know who to pick so I will just pick the last one I can remember." I think you see my point. But with all that aside, the truly sad part was I was sold out by my own wife. True, she has been known to wake up at 2am and watch the royal wedding by choice and then proceed from the original viewing with an 18-hour marathon of royal wedding reruns, but still, follow the Beach Boys' advice and Be True to Your School. Syd did concede that no matter how much she loved our Duck, her heart was given away along time ago to the Royal Family. I must give her props for sticking to her guns. I think all the Smart's would probably agree, which is why there will inevitably be heated debates over the next few years, or realistically decades, as to which mascot is the best. So in order to make my argument of why the Duck's are at the top of the food chain allow me to make just two arguments.

1) Ducks fly together.



2) My mascot can beat up your mascot.

Team Smart

This fall 4 of the 5 Smartie sibs are back in school. The Bank of Durrelly is officially overdrafting. But this begs the questions: Which team are you cheering for?

The Wolverines

The Ducks

The Cougs

Or the Royal Family?

My alliances are obvious...I mean seriously the royal family eats cougars, wolverines, and ducks for dinner. Which team are you on?

Spiffy Family

For the first time in two and half years, all the Smarts were together again! (If only for one day)
I couldn't resist posting this pic. Can't wait until Christmas when we can really party!