tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-348716282024-03-07T03:57:08.876-05:00c spoti think i am going to lose my mind today. i just decided.m.c.http://www.blogger.com/profile/17328314630793412008noreply@blogger.comBlogger488125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-34871628.post-21133773172230041722013-07-05T18:49:00.002-04:002013-07-05T18:49:18.837-04:00my girl can cook.<div style="text-align: center;">
the sweet pea has said...for several years now...that she is going to be a "cooker" (chef) when she grows up. she is going to have her own restaurant/bakery...(where we will eat free, by the way)...and she already has the name. i'll wait and let her tell the world.</div>
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unbelievably...my dad plays golf with the owner of the savannah cafe and bakery. when he told the guy that aiden was asking for a skillet for her 8th birthday, he became enamored with having her come into the restaurant for...what we thought...would be a tour of the kitchen.</div>
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this past monday was the day. we arrived at the restaurant at 9:00 am and was blown away by what they had planned for her.</div>
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the owner and general manager were waiting for her...with an official apron that they had made for her. </div>
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she learned her way around a restaurant kitchen.</div>
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she baked cookies. like, real cookies. that people ate.</div>
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she learned the register.</div>
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she took orders.</div>
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and ran credit cards.</div>
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she ran food.</div>
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and she made fans...</div>
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the empolyees...the customers...me...</div>
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my girl is amazing.</div>
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and the cutest little baker, waitress, hostess, restaurateur i've ever met.</div>
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i hope you remember this day forever aiden annee-grace. it was like a dream for you.</div>
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thank you to grandaddy and all the people at the savannah cafe and bakery for making a little girl's dreams come true. and if you have a chance...go eat at the restaurant. it's amazing fresh, and delicious food. you won't be sorry. plus...the people that work there are pretty cool.</div>
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savannah cafe & bakery</div>
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located behind the starbucks on hwy 3 and clear lake city boulevard</div>
m.c.http://www.blogger.com/profile/17328314630793412008noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-34871628.post-84672014672842502312013-06-28T10:36:00.003-04:002013-06-28T10:36:31.720-04:00tooth fairies, piggy tails, meal time and friends<div style="text-align: center;">
"mom?" aiden asked from the backseat.</div>
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"yes, hon?"</div>
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"is the tooth fairy real?"</div>
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i looked in the rear view mirror and saw that she was looking at me with pure, yet skeptical eyes.</div>
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"why do you ask?"</div>
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she replied..."i just really want to know the truth."</div>
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we had a very honest conversation after that. one that made me realize she was no longer sold on the truth of this sort of childhood magic. one that revealed that although she wanted to know the truth...she also wanted the truth to be that the tooth fairy was, indeed real. she was old enough to know...but young enough to not want to know. she wanted to hang on to the magic.</div>
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after asking her questions like, "do you really want to know?" and "what are you wanting the answer to be?" and "what do your friends say?" i told her. i told my girl the truth because she said she wanted the truth. any by golly...if she put it that way...what choice did i really have?</div>
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"yes, aiden. mommy is the tooth fairy."</div>
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i saw the disappointment. hell...<i>i </i>was disappointed. i held my breath...hoping that the questions wouldn't keep coming. hoping for that little bit of truth being enough for now. hoping that she would hang on to the childhood magic a little bit longer. but since we had the tooth fairy and the easter bunny meet this year, leaving toothpaste, bunny tracks across the counter...she quickly said,</div>
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"so <i>you</i> met the easter bunny????"</div>
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damn.</div>
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i had not thought this through.</div>
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****</div>
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the puddin' cup had her very first piggy tails. she was so excited. she is still working very hard at growing hair. </div>
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aiden talked me into this summer hat. it wasn't hard. i mean...look at her.</div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEigtPhcYgSL4CVbBqhlpeZoKyN_CrZtefHTfJGPKLfQZ0ECGK704dytV8spzvshLx3IE_8jzkfDeHMv3kfO-8aWOtcyhyfl-ceRIjwdVW7FP-i1v8aAFmJja1It6_1hwAA1w7iR/s1600/6-16-13+aiden%27s+cooking+bday+party+and+annslee%27s+first+pig+tails+059.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEigtPhcYgSL4CVbBqhlpeZoKyN_CrZtefHTfJGPKLfQZ0ECGK704dytV8spzvshLx3IE_8jzkfDeHMv3kfO-8aWOtcyhyfl-ceRIjwdVW7FP-i1v8aAFmJja1It6_1hwAA1w7iR/s400/6-16-13+aiden%27s+cooking+bday+party+and+annslee%27s+first+pig+tails+059.JPG" width="263" /></a></div>
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chad took his oldest daughter on a date.</div>
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before they left...i whispered, "open the doors for her."</div>
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and this series of pictures capture meal time with flicka.</div>
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she's not an eater.</div>
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i told her if she couldn't stay still and eat that she would have to sit in the "baby" seat.</div>
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she was fine with that.</div>
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and lest you think otherwise...</div>
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ballerina kitty pirates is a super fun summer game.</div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgdRyuKgj7WIO8M5Jlo9T40qiP73lKrlZ0yaVFAvynyppBK5IwI1QCsqJR0P7bdoLugi6OcGhKKlQitxsNnIMVM1C0V9LxQoUVjbocSdQj0IG6gAHcSiIWTaYah5oJ44hWplDvE/s1600/6-27-13+aiden+and+chad%27s+date+and+claire+018.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgdRyuKgj7WIO8M5Jlo9T40qiP73lKrlZ0yaVFAvynyppBK5IwI1QCsqJR0P7bdoLugi6OcGhKKlQitxsNnIMVM1C0V9LxQoUVjbocSdQj0IG6gAHcSiIWTaYah5oJ44hWplDvE/s400/6-27-13+aiden+and+chad%27s+date+and+claire+018.JPG" width="263" /></a></div>
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and if you try this at home...</div>
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i have it on good authority that it's better watched while surrounding a fire pit with good friends, family and wine.</div>
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****</div>
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looking forward to talking to you from wolf creek ranch, colorado.</div>
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until then...</div>
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i'm wishing you wonderful summer days and nights.</div>
m.c.http://www.blogger.com/profile/17328314630793412008noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-34871628.post-22568295695633928702013-06-16T16:09:00.000-04:002013-06-16T22:50:10.062-04:00cooking parties & wishbone dreams<div style="text-align: center;">
i just uploaded all of the pictures from aiden's cooking birthday party. i can't sit on pictures too long...or i feel like they will get lost in the shuffle of life. it's my blogging format. upload latest pictures. blog about them. memories in the vault.</div>
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while waiting for them to upload, i got sidetracked in itunes...downloading songs like <i>auld lang syne</i> and ben lee's <i>whatever it is.</i> that's a lot of uploading and downloading goin' on over here. my computer must be tired.</div>
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****</div>
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aiden's birthday landed on mother's day this year. it was fun to share the day with her. we didn't let her go un-celebrated...because let's just face it...celebrating is something i do best. however...it was a tough day. it was a couple of days before we went in for our ultrasound that would reveal the fate of our baby. we had waited a long, tough week...and i think my heart knew the outcome...even if my mind was playing tricks on me...telling me that everything would be ok. i was pre-occupied...my mind never leaving the baby in my belly. and that entire week...i could have done without. even if it did contain mother's day and my baby girl's eighth birthday.</div>
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as a result...her birthday party had to be put on hold. it was postponed until this passed friday night. she wanted a "cooking/sleepover." i tried to appease her with the cooking part...and knew better of my patience and emotional status to okay the slumber party. i just didn't have it in me. for a second...i felt guilty. she had gone through losing a sibling. she had wrapped up her second grade year. she had been forced to celebrate her birthday on a day where her mommy's heart just wasn't in it. she had been missing her friends. however...i knew what i could handle. and for one of the first times that i can remember...i paid more attention to that than i did what her heart wanted. and that was okay. and it's a good thing. because by the end of those 2 hours...i was done. it turned out to be a really cute party. but let me just tell you...</div>
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8 year old girls are crazy.</div>
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simple as that.</div>
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and they have no business having the entire night to be in cahoots with each other...wreaking havoc on the house...her brother...her mother...and anything else in their path.</div>
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lesson learned.</div>
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no slumber parties until they are old enough to sneak out and then be appropriately locked out and scared shitless for doing so. (yeah. i just cussed. but that's how serious i am.) because at least...at that age...they aren't screaming and squealing this high pitched, ear piercing dolphin screech that makes one want to gouge their eyeballs out with a fork. no. they are quiet. because they are trying to be sneaky. but...i'm onto them already.</div>
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aiden's 8th birthday party.</div>
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cooking theme.</div>
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in pictures:</div>
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she chose to make cinnamon cream cheese squares.</div>
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while they were in the over...we had a taste test game. seriously. fun.</div>
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chase helped pass out the stuff they "liked" for a snack.</div>
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she made a wish...</div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjYIz7aq46Y907dpqLXI3mJwIYUlAkMFwxTQ8teWXyj3VUj6O7z7tj-qCPBwkccKOz1ZF7Ug4e4RdUUMS74dnwxNhCfw9p9IzQGZwiKuyBNmbvwJQJFjajza-OrQQtR2XBQxSMh/s1600/6-16-13+aiden%27s+cooking+bday+party+and+annslee%27s+first+pig+tails+044.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjYIz7aq46Y907dpqLXI3mJwIYUlAkMFwxTQ8teWXyj3VUj6O7z7tj-qCPBwkccKOz1ZF7Ug4e4RdUUMS74dnwxNhCfw9p9IzQGZwiKuyBNmbvwJQJFjajza-OrQQtR2XBQxSMh/s400/6-16-13+aiden%27s+cooking+bday+party+and+annslee%27s+first+pig+tails+044.JPG" width="263" /></a></div>
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i just called aiden over here and showed her the picture of her making her wish. i asked her...</div>
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"what were you wishing for?"</div>
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she whispered her wish in my ear.</div>
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then i sat her on my lap...and told her a story.</div>
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a song by delirious came on. (i always blog to music.) it's called <i>what a friend i've found.</i></div>
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and to that song...i began:</div>
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<i> </i></div>
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you wann know something? when colton was little, and chase was just a toddler...we were at thanksgiving dinner over at granna and grandaddy's house. and...do you know what a wishbone is?</div>
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she replied, "yes."</div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
well...granna and i broke the wishbone from the turkey in the kitchen. i won.</div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
i had wished to have a baby girl.</div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
but do you know the magical part??</div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
granna wished the same thing.</div>
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<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
so...no matter who won...</div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
she smiled and guessed,</div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
"it would come true."</div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
i smiled.</div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
"yes."</div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
and then...</div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
i got pregnant with you.</div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
you were our wish come true.</div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
i hugged her tight and she hopped down from my lap...</div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
hopefully having a little more insight to how much she was wanted. </div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
****</div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
happy birthday aiden annee-grace.</div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
you are a wishbone dream come true.</div>
m.c.http://www.blogger.com/profile/17328314630793412008noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-34871628.post-83739192768248975892013-06-14T00:41:00.001-04:002013-06-14T00:41:43.770-04:00the good night conversation with my middles<div style="text-align: center;">
one of my most favorite memories from childhood is when my mom or dad would indulge me in a story when they were tucking me in at night. and my most favorite stories were the true ones...from when they were little.</div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
****</div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
it must be said...that i do love the perspective that my two middle children can offer me.</div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
tonight...after snacks, a movie, gum, water, bathroom, questions, and any other procrastinating situation that could possibly arise...i told them, "to bed."</div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
one of the benefits of summer...and the lack of schedule that follows...is that someone is usually taking up residence on aiden's trundle. either chase or annslee finagle their way in there most evenings...for a sibling sleepover, of sorts. tonight...the trundle was chase's.</div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
as i was tucking them in...chase asked,</div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
"mom? where you ever in any school plays?</div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
i replied,</div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
"yes."</div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
the room was lit only by lamp light, and i sensed one of those stories that i, too, used to love. the ones that start with a child saying, "tell me about when you were little." </div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
aiden was listening with interest and chase asked,</div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
"which ones?"</div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
i let my eyes look to the ceiling and quickly started going through the files of memories that my brain held entitled..."school plays."</div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
i remembered aloud,</div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
"well...there was this one in elementary school called roddie riddle from mars...and the little boy who i had a crush on played roddie riddle. his name was scott spurger."</div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
they giggled and chase perked up,</div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
"did you have to kiss him??? who did you play? were you a main character?"</div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
i laughed and said,</div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
"no! i was not a main character. and i didn't have to kiss him! i think i was a dancer or something."</div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
chase then asked,</div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
"where you in any other school plays?"</div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
the file in my head was pretty empty...besides the senior musical in high school. so i answered...</div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
"i only remember being in one other one. it was the senior musical...my last year of high school."</div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
at this point...i was totally engulfed in their mesmerized world of school plays and main characters and learning lines.</div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
i continued...</div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
"it was grease. i actually tried out for the main character, sandy, and got called back for it. but...i chickened out of the second call back and ended up a dancer."</div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
hmmmm, i thought. again with the dancer bit. i realized the pattern. what was it with me and the "dancer" rolls?</div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
chase was concerned...and asked,</div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
"so you didn't get the lead because you were scared of memorizing the lines???"</div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
i thought for a second.</div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
"i guess. i remember thinking that there was no way i could remember all those lines. too bad...huh??? i should never have allowed fear to get in my way."</div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
chase exclaimed,</div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
"mom!!! you could have been a star!!!"</div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
"HA," i laughed. </div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
and then aiden...</div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
always ready to offer the hard truth...comforted me with this,</div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
"well...you made the right decision. you know.......to be our mom instead."</div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
and with that...</div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
i kissed their foreheads,</div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
smiled,</div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
and said,</div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
"yes. i did."</div>
m.c.http://www.blogger.com/profile/17328314630793412008noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-34871628.post-11113411739824896672013-06-11T16:41:00.004-04:002013-06-11T16:41:44.219-04:00He's old enough for Kenya<div style="text-align: center;">
It's 2:54 in the afternoon. They left a little over 2 hours ago...and I am already feeling a small ache...missing those 2 boys. Colton took my place on the Kenya trip...and how my boy is old enough for a trip like that escapes me. He just called from the airport...and I brought up all sorts of random things to talk about, lingering over topics like what he ate for lunch and how his littlest sister can't find her earphones...even though she looked in her hello kitty box in her room, just to be able to keep hearing his voice.</div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
Yesterday, we spent the day shopping for the things that he and Chad needed for the trip. We hit all sorts of stores...discussing what kinds of stickers and bubbles and soccer balls the kids in Kenya would most like. They can't wear jeans over there...so we had to get Colt some light weight khakis. We decided to go as a family...and lectured the kids in great detail about what their behavior needed to be in the stores. We had an unfortunate experience in Academy a few nights back that resulted in leaving a basket in the middle of the boy's athletic clothes and heading home...due to a fight that broke out over who pushed the cart. Chad had had enough. (I gave him a break and agreed to come back alone. He's an amateur when it comes to shopping with all 4 kids. Well...shopping, in general.) So...after some serious warnings...we tried again. This time we went to Sun and Ski Sports to see if we could find some of the clothing items they needed. I'm fairly certain that our pictures are on the wall in the employee break room in Academy under a "Don't let these people on the premises" sign. Things were going fairly smoothly until Annslee disappeared from the dressing rooms. I quickly located her sitting in a kayak...that was up on a display shelf in the middle of the store. I asked her if she really thought that was a good idea. I'm pretty sure she did.</div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
Chase was so busy playing mine craft that he barely looked up from his itouch. When we stopped for lunch...Chad made mention of the Africa trip (for the billionth time over the last several months) and Chase looked up, interested for the first time in the subject and says,</div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
"Colton's going to Africa???? Can I have his room?"</div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
****</div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
Today marked (what would be) the 12th week of the pregnancy. When I realized that, I allowed myself to think about what this week could have been like. I would have had the 12 week ultrasound with the high risk doctor...where we would have found out if the baby was a boy or a girl. I allowed myself to wonder which it was. I allowed myself to remember what that excitement felt like...and feel sad that this week won't hold any of that. I wondered if I would have told Chad whether we were having another son or another daughter via e-mail...or if I would have waited until he got back. I decided that I would have probably told him on Sunday...Father's Day. I would have found a way to let him know...and I would have let him tell Colton.</div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
Already being a little emotional made saying goodbye a little harder, I think. But also a little sweeter.</div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
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I think she feels the way I feel: like looking down. and not smiling.</div>
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Now I just have to find a way to fill my time until around 2 am. That's when I made them promise to call me from London during their lay over. I wonder if Colt will be in the mood to discuss pleasantries, like whether he enjoyed the peanuts or the pretzels more and what they offered for dinner on the plane and whether or not Chad is using appropriate amounts of hand gel, just so I can keep listening to his voice?</div>
m.c.http://www.blogger.com/profile/17328314630793412008noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-34871628.post-38256822904532988432013-06-03T12:43:00.001-04:002013-06-03T12:43:12.299-04:00on getting stronger.<div style="text-align: center;">
in retrospect...going straight from the couch to the soccer field may not have been the best strategy. but i can't pretend that i've ever been something other than impulsive.</div>
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i told my team mates to put me down as a sub. i wasn't sure when i would be able to play again and i wasn't sure what my body would even allow me to do. i have been out of the sport for a good 3 months...and on the couch for the last 25 days. but my body was begging me to do something. anything. just get up. move.</div>
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my mind and heart, however were not quite there.</div>
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they lagged behind...</div>
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they were all,</div>
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"but we have been through a thing. and we need the break. we <i>deserve </i>a break."</div>
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our team captain (and my sweet friend) shot me a text saturday morning.</div>
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"game tomorrow at 6. want to sub in?"</div>
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i thought for a second...</div>
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my head and heart having a substantial inner argument with my body...</div>
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and replied,</div>
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"i can try."</div>
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she said, "yay!!! we will make sure you take it easy."</div>
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i made sure to be honest. heaven forbid these people...these team mates...these friends actually <i>rely </i>on me.</div>
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"i have no idea what i'll be able to do, to be honest. but i have to start somewhere."</div>
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yesterday...(the day of the game)...i went to church (against my will); took the kids to ihop while chad made announcements at the next service (that new french toast commercial had been calling out to me); and then declared that i was going to lay down for just a minute to rest and read my book. 3 hours later...i woke up. i looked at the clock, like it was a ticking time bomb. 4:00. good lord. i only have 2 hours till the start of the game and i have yet to even see if i can run without doubling over.</div>
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i lay there until 4:30...my mind and heart doing their absolute best at trying to talk me out of showing up for the game. i had my text all planned out.</div>
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"i'm really sorry. i thought i'd be ready...but i'm just not. i need more time."</div>
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and i knew...without a shadow of a doubt that my text would be received well. after all...i have been through a thing.</div>
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but my body just wouldn't let me do it. i knew the truth. it's not gonna get any easier. even though i am still bleeding...my doctor had cleared me to play. i was cleared to "resume" all normal activity. like...ok...this whole thing is done with and you can just pop on back to your normal life. only...as i discovered on the soccer field last night...it just doesn't work that way.</div>
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i went into my room...dug to the bottom of my dresser drawer and located my uniform.</div>
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clarkson. number 8.</div>
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that seemed like a lifetime ago.</div>
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it was a short lifetime. but it <i>was</i> a lifetime. my baby's lifetime.</div>
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i put it on without thinking. if i thought about it...i would fold it right back up and reach for the sweat pants. and that wasn't gonna help anybody.</div>
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i went through the motions. fastening my shin guards and ankle brace. slipping my feet into the sambas that i once loved to lace. packing my bag with extra pads in case all the running caused me to bleed heavily. filling the water bottle with cold water.</div>
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the hardest part was walking into the room were the kids were... and watching their eyes adjust to that version of my "old" self and saying, "MOM!!! ARE YOU GONNA PLAY SOCCER????" i could only imagine what they were thinking. "no way. you've been sleeping for a month. this is gonna be a disaster." but then i realized...those were just <i>my </i>thoughts. ok...and maybe chase's. he did sit down next to me and say..."i'll pray for you." followed by something like, "don't break anything."</div>
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**** </div>
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i walked into the building and luckily avoided the staff asking me where i'd been? my entire team trickled in and no one even said anything stupid. i say this...because i am notorious for saying stupid things in these sorts of situations. no one ignored the situation. but they didn't get all weird and uncomfortable...making me feel equally weird and uncomfortable either. they were perfect.</div>
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they told me that i was only allowed to play 2 minute bursts...to get my feet wet again. and it wasn't in a "you're so out of shape that you are going to humiliate us" way...it was in a "we know what you've been through and whatever you can do is ok and we are here to support you and take care of you" way. and that was a relief. no one was expecting anything. they were just glad i was there.</div>
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soccer was something that brought me such satisfaction and joy before. and i hoped it would do so again. however...when i took my place on the field...i realized,</div>
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"my heart is not here."</div>
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i was up against a girl that was so fast and quick that i probably wouldn't have beaten her when i was at my best this time last year...scoring hat tricks and connecting assists and never tiring. although i was never some soccer superstar...i at least made a difference in the game. but last night...when i was running to try to win a pass down the line...being chased (and caught) by this girl who had absolutely no idea who i was...all i could think was...</div>
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"who even cares! why am i here??? beat me to the ball!! i don't care! i'll lay a red carpet out for you to score a goal. this means nothing. my baby just died."</div>
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used to...i would have to be called off the field. used to...nothing mattered to me more than bringing it out there. nothing mattered to me more than scoring and making great passes and performing to the best of my ability. it made me happy. it made me satisfied.</div>
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i felt like a porcelain doll last night. i felt like i was two seconds from shattering all over the field.</div>
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and nothing about that made me happy. nothing about that made me satisfied.</div>
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i was just...</div>
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sad.</div>
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BUT... </div>
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when i got home...and chad asked,</div>
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"how do you feel?"</div>
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i had to reply,</div>
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"supported."</div>
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because...as hard as that game was for me...there was joy to be found there. every member of my team had my back. they didn't care how i performed. my worth was not in what i could or couldn't do. my worth was in "who" i was. they would not let me go against the "linebacker" on the other team. they wouldn't let me get too tired. they wouldn't let me stay out there too long. they were watching me closely. not because they cared what i contributed to the game...but because they cared about how i was. they cared about my heart and my body. they knew me...and they knew where i was. and if my heart wasn't in it...that was ok. and they would be patient with me. and they would teach me to be patient with myself.</div>
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****</div>
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i now view myself like a muscle in the body.</div>
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you tear it down...in order for it to come back stronger.</div>
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last night...i was emotionally and physically torn down. and i let it happen. i came home...took a shower...and went to bed. i went to bed sad...dissatisfied...frustrated...hopeless that i would ever feel "good" again.</div>
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but when i woke up this morning...</div>
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i felt a little bit stronger.</div>
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i made myself get up. and it was different this time. because my heart wanted to get up. i went to the y. i tried a new body pump class. sure. i used the lightest weights. i did a fraction of what i would have done 3 months ago. but i felt strong. and i didn't let myself quit when it got hard. and when i walked out of the front doors into the sun...</div>
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i knew that i had come back a little stronger.<br />
<br />
and with a little more hope.<br />
<br />
and something about that made me smile.</div>
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<br /></div>
m.c.http://www.blogger.com/profile/17328314630793412008noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-34871628.post-83814131595110098472013-06-01T21:19:00.001-04:002013-06-01T21:19:56.391-04:00on recovery<div style="text-align: center;">
i've decided that one does and thinks strange things while recovering. it's been 12 days since i officially miscarried our baby, and 24 days since i found out that something might be wrong. in that time...i've done a lot of "feeling." and it's really amazing how quickly emotions can change.</div>
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i spent a good 4 days in bed. not because i wanted to. i didn't have a choice. people don't know how hard a miscarriage can be on a mother's body. not to mention her heart. and the two pains together?? well...they are nearly unbearable. for 2 of those days...annslee wouldn't leave my side. she would saddle up next to me in bed and watch sprout or play my phone as i fitfully slept. one of the games she would play on my phone had a child's voice calling for it's mama. i would hear it in my sleep and dream it was my baby calling for me to come. i would try to find the voice...but i never could. and sometimes i would cry with the voice. i would call back. i would cry out that i was sorry i couldn't find it...i was trying...i wanted to reach it and hold it and rock it...but i couldn't. when i would finally wake...i would ask annslee to play a different game. and she would. but she never knew why.</div>
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so...last friday morning...(which was 5 days post miscarriage)...i tried to stand up after chad got the kids off to school. i had tried the morning before and realized that i couldn't stand up straight without it hurting pretty badly...so i collapsed right back in bed. and on that friday morning...i could stand up. i walked into the kitchen and made a cup of coffee. this was a huge success for me. it's weird how the simplest task feels like a monumental occasion after going through something like this. and i didn't even cry at the realization that i could now drink caffeinated coffee because i was no longer pregnant. it's also weird how quickly you get used to protecting that baby. no coffee. no alcohol. no hot, hot baths. no emptying the kitty litter. no eating weird, soft cheeses. and all of a sudden...i didn't have to worry about that stuff anymore. however...i still caught myself questioning it. wait...is the water too hot???? oh yeah. it doesn't matter anymore.</div>
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on that friday morning, while my coffee was slowly dripping into my mug, i looked around the kitchen. it seemed like a foreign place to me. i had been in bed for 4 days. i only saw my bedroom and my bathroom. my mother and chad had taken charge of the kitchen. and it wasn't used to me being in it. i stood there a while...sort of introducing myself again. and that room sensed that i was somehow different. i would never be the same. but it welcomed me anyway. and it said that who i was now was ok.</div>
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the first thing i did was rip the "may" page of the calendar off and throw it away...revealing the blank month of june. i was done with may. i needed may to be over. i needed to look ahead. i didn't need to look back at may anymore...or see where i had excitedly written that first appointment down...expecting to see my baby's heartbeat. i didn't need to look back at those days when i was still pregnant and happy. i needed to see the future. i needed to see june.</div>
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and then i just started rearranging the entire kitchen. the coffee pot was all wrong where it was and needed a new home on the opposite counter. i worked for 2 hours. i cleaned every service of that kitchen. and when i was done...it looked like a new room. it was ready for summer. and so was i.</div>
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after that...i decided that i needed a new purse. like...right then. so...obviously i decided to go shopping. i went by myself. colton watched annslee for me...and i looked at every purse in the bay area like my life depended on it. i bought 2. plus a wallet.</div>
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i've read my bible more. because that's what i do when i'm struggling. i try to find answers.</div>
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i haven't found any answers. but i have been comforted.</div>
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last saturday morning, i woke up around 9:30. that's been another thing. people tend to just let me sleep. and i've slept a lot. i didn't hear anybody...so i wandered into the front room where i could see the driveway from the front window. that's when i noticed that chad and the kids had decided to tack on to another garage sale on our street and had trudged a bunch of stuff out of our house and garage to the end of the driveway with a "for sale" sign in the yard. i stood there for a minute and then saw some random lady holding up a piece of my old lingerie in front of her body. i guess i was too numb to even care...because i just stood there...sipping my coffee...watching articles of my undergarments being sold for a dollar. whatever.</div>
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sometimes people say all the right things. and sometimes they don't...and i get mad. i don't get mad at them...i just get mad in general. the anger doesn't last long. but one thing i've learned about myself is that the worst thing for me is when people pretend it didn't happen. like...they just don't say anything and they don't acknowledge what i am going through. like, "we're just gonna pretend this whole thing didn't happen." yeah...i've learned that's not helpful. i know people are different and for some...that would be the best thing. but not for me. so...i know that there are some times...that i will have to be uncomfortable so that someone else (the person who likes to sweep things under the rug) will be comfortable. and it's ok for me to distance myself from that if i need to. it won't feel that way forever.</div>
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****</div>
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chase made the battle of the alamo out of blocks and army men. this kid really amazes me with this sort of stuff. </div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEimTCaqC4XZAcOrrrgSepFJ25x7Me9VSONAgI5ZcB-uMpVkdO56b92ZpxGd6N3Y31JzEYl8BqG0Y_jErKyWmfxn2kYW80RLEFEbf21fEPPDx9w1IeDqY1yb92Fut2Z0BJ_UP1wL/s1600/5-30-13+chase%27s+alamo+and+aiden+and+aj+outside+002.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEimTCaqC4XZAcOrrrgSepFJ25x7Me9VSONAgI5ZcB-uMpVkdO56b92ZpxGd6N3Y31JzEYl8BqG0Y_jErKyWmfxn2kYW80RLEFEbf21fEPPDx9w1IeDqY1yb92Fut2Z0BJ_UP1wL/s400/5-30-13+chase%27s+alamo+and+aiden+and+aj+outside+002.JPG" width="263" /></a></div>
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i've tried to get outside more. the sun going down and the cool breeze in the evening is like a friend's invitation for coffee. and after sitting for a spell...i even felt like grabbing my camera.</div>
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<div style="text-align: center;">
i'm working on teaching myself how to photograph in manual. it's harder than it seems it should be...but the colors are amazingly better than in automatic.</div>
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i see the most difference in their eyes.</div>
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i started a book. and that has been useful in softening some of those sneaky emotions.</div>
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i've always been able to be absorbed into characters...forgetting a bit of myself...becoming them...in the safest way.</div>
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on this particular evening...the sun lit the clouds like magic and turned them into the prettiest orange. aiden pointed out this cloud and whispered, "it looks like heaven."</div>
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i instantly pictured my grandparents...both of my uncles that died a few days after their birth...chad's grandparents...and best of all...Jesus...holding and loving my baby. i pictured them happy and laughing. i pictured a beating heart and a sweet smile.</div>
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<div style="text-align: center;">
yes...one does and thinks strange things while recovering, indeed.</div>
m.c.http://www.blogger.com/profile/17328314630793412008noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-34871628.post-73999541375067840122013-05-24T20:38:00.001-04:002013-05-24T20:38:41.913-04:00the story<div style="text-align: center;">
i knew this would be a hard story to tell. and most of all...i didn't want it to ever be <i>my </i>story. but it is. and there is absolutely nothing i can do about it...other than accept it as such.</div>
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so many of you already know what has happened. but so many of you don't. and i've never been one to hide. i can't walk around in life half way. i can't always wonder...</div>
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did they know??</div>
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about 5 weeks ago...chad and i found ourselves pregnant.</div>
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i say it that way...because that's really what it was like. we weren't expecting it...or trying for it...or waiting for it.</div>
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that's what made it so different from the previous 4 times we had been in that situation.</div>
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it brought shock, first. and for me...that shock faded quickly...and turned into excitement. and the excitement gave way to pure happiness. and the happiness paved the way for dreams. and within a week...it was impossible to think of life before there were 5.</div>
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5 children.</div>
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i was going to have 5 children.</div>
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at my first appointment...as well as i could guess...i was around 7 weeks pregnant. and i was going to see my baby's heartbeat.</div>
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she said...here's the yolk sac. here's the baby. it's measuring 5 weeks and 5 days...which is too early to see a heartbeat. she finished up and helped me sit up. i had been through this 4 times before...and every time...i smiled through this whole event. and i realized...i hadn't smiled. at all. something was wrong.</div>
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she said, "please don't worry. i can see it on your face. don't worry. come back next week...and we will do another ultrasound. hopefully the baby will have grown and we will see a heartbeat. everything looks like it should. your numbers are great. don't worry...you don't know your dates...so chances are...you caught the pregnancy really early."</div>
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and no matter what i did...no matter how hard i tried...i could not make those dates add up.</div>
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that's when we started praying and calling on family and friends to pray. that's when i started having to trust God for the outcome of this baby. and truly...i did. i trusted Him like nobody's business. i believed that He could breath life into this baby. i believed that He was going to do just that. i believed that at the next ultrasound appointment...it was going to be the beginning of a happy day. i waited. i prayed. i begged. i believed.</div>
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when the next appointment came...nothing had changed. and that was devastating. i'll never forget putting my face in my hands and silently sobbing. i'll never forget the frozen image of our baby on the screen. i'll never forget the technician saying, "i'm sorry." i'll never forget looking at chad...with his head in his hands. i'll never forget him saying, </div>
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"ah. that's not what i was expecting to hear."</div>
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and he wasn't saying it to me.</div>
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he was saying it to God.</div>
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he was grieving.</div>
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it seemed like an eternity...waiting for my doctor.</div>
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i remember chad saying...</div>
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"do you want me to go get someone in here?"</div>
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no. she'll come when she can.</div>
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after all...this was the same woman who had dropped everything and come to me when she wasn't even on call to deliver annslee. she would come when she could.</div>
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and she did. and she shared her own story. and she offered comfort. and she offered hope. she said our stories were similar. and that made all the difference.</div>
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she also said...i really think we should wait until monday. i will squeeze you in. i want to scan you again. i want to be 100%.</div>
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that's when i decided that i would wait. even thought i didn't want to. i would wait. but i wouldn't hope. as excruciating as the waiting would be...the hoping would be worse.</div>
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those 5 days were the hardest. my baby was inside of me. lifeless. and there was absolutely nothing i could do about it. i'm convinced that those 5 days will become lost somewhere in my memory eventually. except for one night. one night...i realized what my friends and family were praying for without telling me.</div>
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<div style="text-align: center;">
a miracle.</div>
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and i wondered...would i ever forgive myself if i didn't ask the creator God to perform a miracle on this baby? and i knew the answer. i had to become vulnerable before Him. i had to open myself up to hope one last time. and that prayer was the hardest of all.</div>
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<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
it was then that i bowed before Him and asked for a miracle. i opened myself up to hope. and after that...i told him that if He didn't see fit to it...that i was willing to give over my child. i gave up my child to Him. and i cried.</div>
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the next ultrasound showed the same and this time...i didn't cry when i saw the screen. i knew that that baby was gone. that baby was with Jesus. and that baby was ok.</div>
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the doctor called it a "missed miscarriage." somehow...my body had missed it.</div>
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i had had a miscarriage.</div>
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that sentence held so much more weight than it ever had before. you don't fully understand the weight of that sentence until it has to be uttered out of your own mouth. you can mourn with friends after it has happen to them. you can feel sad. you can feel sorry. but you don't feel the weight. you just don't </div>
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i had two choices. i could have surgery to remove it...or i could take medicine to make it happen at home. one would be quick. one would be excruciatingly painful...both emotionally and physically. we choice the latter. surgery has risks and is expensive. if possible...i felt that, for the first time in my life, i had the smallest understanding of Jesus in the garden.</div>
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<div style="text-align: center;">
"please Father...i can't do this. please...let this cup pass from me. this is going to hurt...so bad. this is going to hurt me. please."</div>
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chad said, "i won't leave you."</div>
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and he didn't.</div>
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i took the pills alone. knowing what those pills were going to do...i willingly swallowed them. and i lie down and waited. i waited for the storm to come. i waited for the pain to come.</div>
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and it did.</div>
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throughout that night...as our 4 children peacefully slept...i walked through hell. i experienced pouring death from my body. chad would feel me writhe with pain and walk beside me to the place where it would pour out. there were baseball sized clots of tissue coming one after the other followed by gushing blood and fluid. my hands would shake as i tried to clean myself up. and i would sob.</div>
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my body was going through it...and as a mother...i was going through it. and as i watched, what should have been life, drain from my body...chad had his hand on my back. he was steady as a rock. the look on his face was not one of disgust. it was one of compassion and strength. i would remove the tissue and he would take it from me. he never made me have to decide what to do with it. he never made me throw it away. he knew...without me ever having to say a word...that i could not be the one to physically let it go. he cleaned the floors on his hands and knees...over and over again. he was with me. i wasn't alone.</div>
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the next day...i couldn't even stand up because of how much blood i had lost. i slept. i slept all day.</div>
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and slowly...as the days have passed...my body and spirit has begun to recover. i keep telling myself,</div>
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<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
"you are strong. you can do this. you will be okay."</div>
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and i will be.</div>
m.c.http://www.blogger.com/profile/17328314630793412008noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-34871628.post-10507425052119365892013-05-18T13:06:00.003-04:002013-05-18T13:06:41.925-04:00finding joy<div style="text-align: center;">
may is supposed to be such a happy month...the quickly approaching summer...the evidence of the promises of new life...warm breezes replacing cool evenings...lemonade. yet life has the ability to present trials without warning or preparation, threatening all joy in it's wake.</div>
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the trick when faced with sadness, is not getting stuck in the anger. with sadness comes grief. and with grief comes anger. and with anger comes...doubt.</div>
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as i have walked this dark road...there have been times that i felt courted by the enemy. and to be honest...i spent a good, full day listening to him. he whispered lies of God's character. he invited me to dance to the music of false hope. he offered me fruit of destruction to eat. he wanted me to believe that anger and a hard heart would make it hurt less. he taught me to laugh at God and His promises. and he did it in such a sneaky way. he disguised it as...normal. this is a "normal" way to feel. after all...that God of yours gave you something...only to take it away.</div>
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i spoke with a friend for a long time that night...after i had been courted all day. i told her of my new thoughts about this God that we serve. and as i was speaking my new thoughts...it was then that i realized that they weren't really MY thoughts...but his.</div>
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i've been clutching tight to my friend's words over the last few days:</div>
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"don't listen too long, friend."</div>
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and i've realized that when i am faced with something i don't want to be faced with...that tends to be my weakness.</div>
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i listen too long. my mind becomes weak...and it starts believing things that are untrue. it starts believing things that are dangerous.</div>
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and although this month of may has me facing sadness...there is also joy.</div>
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without sadness in life...would we even know joy?</div>
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today...i choose to find joy in...</div>
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saint patrick's day green:</div>
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my son playing "home" on the ukulele:</div>
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my mama dove friend who returned home:</div>
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the color yellow:</div>
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innocence:</div>
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tip-toes:</div>
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big brown eyes and light blonde hair:</div>
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twirling:</div>
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hatching eggs: </div>
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expressions:</div>
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her turning my favorite number:</div>
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a husband who loves his family:</div>
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four generations on mother's day:</div>
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the fact that she asked for a "skillet" for her birthday:</div>
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fairy gardens:</div>
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those four generations making cookies:</div>
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and obviously...my sweet chase. even if he is going through a "no pictures please" phase.</div>
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joy is always around. but sometimes...you have to be willing to see it.</div>
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m.c.http://www.blogger.com/profile/17328314630793412008noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-34871628.post-6056589890700397812013-05-02T23:32:00.002-04:002013-05-02T23:35:04.711-04:00it's a comin'...<div style="text-align: center;">
today was the last day of co-op. that means that i no longer teach pre-school every tuesday and thursday. i loved those kids...but <i>hollllllaaaaaa</i>...this girl is ready for summer.</div>
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summer means...life relaxes into a softer, slower rhythm. don't get me wrong...i can get excited about new back packs; a fresh box of crayons; never written in spirals with the promise of maturing stories; and freshly sharpened pencils like nobody's business. and i always start strong. schedules and meal plans taped to the fridge. lunch kits taking residence on a main shelf in the pantry. alarm set at 6:45 and outfits picked out the night before. but that's not where i like to live. i do it. and i find joy in it for a while. but i wear down after christmas. and then it's just...hang on till summer! it's a-comin'.</div>
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because summer is where laid back lives. and that's pretty much where i like to dwell.</div>
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summer is reading books for fun. it's piling in mama and daddy's bed for a late night movie. back packs are replaced by swim bags on the hooks by the door. lunch kits are replaced with a picnic basket. the alarm clock is switched off for good. schedules are replaced with a summer bucket list. and once a week ice cream outings with friends are put into affect.</div>
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yeah. some people are school year people. and i love that about them. but...you'll never hear me say, "laaaawwwddd have mercy...i can't wait to get these kids back to school." i like to live in summer.</div>
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and it might as well be the day after thanksgiving...where the magic of christmas is upon us, this last month of school! because each night gets a little more relaxed. homework gets a little less "necessary." we head out barefoot. we linger in the driveway, laughing with neighbors a little longer. it's a-comin'.</div>
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enjoying lately:</div>
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MASTER'S SUNDAY!</div>
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little girl sleepovers...complete with shirley temples:</div>
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sleeping in tents and summer jammies:</div>
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perched lip photos and the fact that she constantly wears that dress-up veil. she calls it her hair...cuz she wants hair like her sister's:</div>
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it's a-growin' puddin' cup...don't you worry. besides...you look like a doll. and...you got pixie flair!</div>
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familly hang outs:</div>
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a visit from a friend from s.c.</div>
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she happens to take the best pictures! i only wish we had gotten some of her!</div>
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little girls in pink leotards. just because:</div>
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looking tired:</div>
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being windblown:</div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiEznvhZV0wi4CB_jmc_r49doe38dQfGL7QcZLeXJl45XqN_LIc6pg-SCq9x7CQjE7UAU0VINkJpp_z-FI4gXS3yW743_IPOMzFJCG4VvBUC8XXremM8dw2dEE3E3NndwBwABS-/s1600/5-1-13+masters+sunday+and+my+head+shots+076.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiEznvhZV0wi4CB_jmc_r49doe38dQfGL7QcZLeXJl45XqN_LIc6pg-SCq9x7CQjE7UAU0VINkJpp_z-FI4gXS3yW743_IPOMzFJCG4VvBUC8XXremM8dw2dEE3E3NndwBwABS-/s400/5-1-13+masters+sunday+and+my+head+shots+076.JPG" width="263" /></a></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
and looking up:</div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjdbOF38IYrb_8PpXO9Y0YOjHZ7Ls5PYkAVE4ZUxTm_dObuKneuCsY1pr8CAefudry0kl1Xs8MK9o6tYTFrJUn1Jd5UJZ_4biSNTV-IjKQixId44DUi7xSW6h0k31TDRZBlAJUL/s1600/5-1-13+masters+sunday+and+my+head+shots+045.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjdbOF38IYrb_8PpXO9Y0YOjHZ7Ls5PYkAVE4ZUxTm_dObuKneuCsY1pr8CAefudry0kl1Xs8MK9o6tYTFrJUn1Jd5UJZ_4biSNTV-IjKQixId44DUi7xSW6h0k31TDRZBlAJUL/s400/5-1-13+masters+sunday+and+my+head+shots+045.JPG" width="263" /></a></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
here's to looking up. summer's a-comin'.</div>
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<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
i'm gonna live there a while.</div>
m.c.http://www.blogger.com/profile/17328314630793412008noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-34871628.post-7690455378614532402013-04-24T21:10:00.000-04:002013-04-24T21:10:54.347-04:00wrong again<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhtitszxPw3KBIpF_BNoN0Rm_LilhiJWKYLUywP1LVeCWBXEQgnE58f6IFiCdIfGQhRSfSH9eNmv_Fr7mNPqTSs6H9NY29zj-bYNg7owtfiUUg2FYgizUq0iHyEkPxfM17nx_ZA/s1600/3-10-13+aiden+scores+a+hat+trick+002.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhtitszxPw3KBIpF_BNoN0Rm_LilhiJWKYLUywP1LVeCWBXEQgnE58f6IFiCdIfGQhRSfSH9eNmv_Fr7mNPqTSs6H9NY29zj-bYNg7owtfiUUg2FYgizUq0iHyEkPxfM17nx_ZA/s400/3-10-13+aiden+scores+a+hat+trick+002.JPG" width="263" /></a></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
sibling love and support and celebration is a happiness that surpasses most anything else. it never ceases to bring laughter and swelling pride. </div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg_spZNWMYIT4o35QuuEK5e_kLzjHsLfIH7WnKy0F0KsD-pK5lDQ-mABSyWMj-W6abIy4nQw2Ad5v8yUgQZOm35m54CRvweH-BhwUJ3Y2IQk06fRwD_TOvbZisHekMwo4iLsFQt/s1600/3-10-13+aiden+scores+a+hat+trick+004.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg_spZNWMYIT4o35QuuEK5e_kLzjHsLfIH7WnKy0F0KsD-pK5lDQ-mABSyWMj-W6abIy4nQw2Ad5v8yUgQZOm35m54CRvweH-BhwUJ3Y2IQk06fRwD_TOvbZisHekMwo4iLsFQt/s400/3-10-13+aiden+scores+a+hat+trick+004.JPG" width="263" /></a></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgF3R-h-vN2wsmdHXATS8LEHH43DxtD2cxXWnUjX3JnlpJwKxJEwlFZiJCMXgAorBL-n8Bv7yD9zhdHzqPlDVyGUGfi_Wurh7yy11IU7MfT4HxxufHilXc5sEU2NmV9hhHzfOeH/s1600/3-10-13+aiden+scores+a+hat+trick+003.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgF3R-h-vN2wsmdHXATS8LEHH43DxtD2cxXWnUjX3JnlpJwKxJEwlFZiJCMXgAorBL-n8Bv7yD9zhdHzqPlDVyGUGfi_Wurh7yy11IU7MfT4HxxufHilXc5sEU2NmV9hhHzfOeH/s400/3-10-13+aiden+scores+a+hat+trick+003.JPG" width="263" /></a></div>
<br />
<div style="text-align: center;">
in soccer...scoring 3 goals in a game is called a "hat trick."</div>
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</div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEggSs3G-PY0jtfaHG3zrcObDYEW4m8oDKgkYBxKPRnPDJ8hgJjjzs5s9h3xor2Xz1Gpt7bcUXUPx1CrPYaf8BfWbvkQ0joJNosI8SPvxMQ6C11WXo_r1FUVN3yJFil6Uhfixyxo/s1600/3-10-13+aiden+scores+a+hat+trick+007.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEggSs3G-PY0jtfaHG3zrcObDYEW4m8oDKgkYBxKPRnPDJ8hgJjjzs5s9h3xor2Xz1Gpt7bcUXUPx1CrPYaf8BfWbvkQ0joJNosI8SPvxMQ6C11WXo_r1FUVN3yJFil6Uhfixyxo/s400/3-10-13+aiden+scores+a+hat+trick+007.JPG" width="263" /></a></div>
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<div style="text-align: center;">
it is not easily done...and is a right of passage, of sorts, for a soccer player.</div>
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<div style="text-align: center;">
my girl did it.</div>
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<div style="text-align: center;">
unfortunately...her big brother didn't get to come to the game to see her. however, his reaction upon hearing the news was the best big brother reaction i think i've ever seen. </div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi9qLck7gICcdYto9Mc1nxm3FQZTjQDByTfxZyvzWjnKjncoHZLw_oM8G7u0EKmmBHdK4D90jy75ihtYDwlgtNYBfSx6ShV0rdXoZoXCNXPRYfCYCbcP5Nxccc-qb3P1ubLhTKy/s1600/3-10-13+aiden+scores+a+hat+trick+009.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi9qLck7gICcdYto9Mc1nxm3FQZTjQDByTfxZyvzWjnKjncoHZLw_oM8G7u0EKmmBHdK4D90jy75ihtYDwlgtNYBfSx6ShV0rdXoZoXCNXPRYfCYCbcP5Nxccc-qb3P1ubLhTKy/s400/3-10-13+aiden+scores+a+hat+trick+009.JPG" width="263" /></a></div>
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this relationship of theirs...</div>
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it grows every day. and it's beautiful...and raw...and real...and kind.</div>
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it's love.</div>
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her little sister followed suit.</div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgwkDjH0wIr3H85spBPh39hiNkwopk97-3TSgGmX7A6wprUFugU7TlFv4NtIhqXWJbhQI__DvpviXakFjEXOdcbIkL_iKRB-2P1RDcc8I0nAZXSHVFlYT_cNqDW_LG9UDhMtCdm/s1600/3-10-13+aiden+scores+a+hat+trick+011.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgwkDjH0wIr3H85spBPh39hiNkwopk97-3TSgGmX7A6wprUFugU7TlFv4NtIhqXWJbhQI__DvpviXakFjEXOdcbIkL_iKRB-2P1RDcc8I0nAZXSHVFlYT_cNqDW_LG9UDhMtCdm/s400/3-10-13+aiden+scores+a+hat+trick+011.JPG" width="263" /></a></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
when i stood on the side-lines of the soccer field, watching my girl play and make things happen...i felt a pride and excitement that i didn't think could be matched by any other moments that day.</div>
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and then we came home.</div>
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and i had been wrong.</div>
m.c.http://www.blogger.com/profile/17328314630793412008noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-34871628.post-29307484819875868642013-04-17T22:00:00.001-04:002013-04-17T22:00:12.130-04:00she makes me brave.<div style="text-align: center;">
i finally lit a candle, turned some music on, and sat down to write. i miss writing. i need writing. it's how i re-charge...see the little things...find the magic. it's how i learn and grow. it's how i want my kids to see their mother. it's how i sort things out. it's how i see things. it's how my voice is heard.</div>
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it's relaxing...</div>
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it's healing...</div>
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it's good.</div>
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<div style="text-align: center;">
and so...as we begin to slowly wrap this school year in brown paper and tie it up with a piece of twine...as we do all good school years...i wish to write more. and if i'm wishing for things...i'll go ahead and wish to be less tired. and to maybe add that 5th child to the family. wait...what? somewhere out there...chad just gasped and passed slap out. it was a wish. you can't sensor a wish. you can't hold back. dream big...right??</div>
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i know what you're thinking. </div>
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"5th child? less tired?? the two don't go together."</div>
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but that's what's so great about wishes. they don't have to be logical.</div>
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****</div>
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<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
i went to the dermatologist this morning. and i'll explain in a moment why it was good that i had made this appointment a couple of months ago...as if the good Lord knew that something was gonna happen to send me into a tale spin of dermatological obsession.</div>
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<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
it's never fun stripping down to your mis-matched undergarments. i mean...it's possible i was wearing a nursing bra from the early 2000's. you probably didn't need to know that...but i've always appreciated the details of a story.</div>
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<div style="text-align: center;">
soooo...after you have had the privilege of stripping down to next to nothin'...someone with perfect skin gets to examine...in detail...all of your flaws. and i have a lot of em.</div>
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<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
i was blessed with the light blue eyes/blonde hair curse.</div>
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bad skin.</div>
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not necessarily wrinkles...</div>
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but freckles.</div>
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so anyhow...after we had checked and double checked and triple checked...and had the hot, male intern come in to look at some "questionables"...i couldn't get dressed fast enough.</div>
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<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
and that's all it takes, apparently, to put you right back in your place. and to let you know that...without a doubt...whatever self confidence and security in yourself and your body you have grown into over the years had nothin' on a trip to the dermatologist.</div>
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<div style="text-align: center;">
****</div>
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<div style="text-align: center;">
on friday, i had the pleasure of going with a dear friend to take her 4 year old daughter to her chemo appointment at texas children's hospital.</div>
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<div style="text-align: center;">
this...this is a beautiful child.</div>
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this is a child i have prayed for...and had others pray for.</div>
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this is a child who is making a difference in this world.</div>
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and this is a child who will continue to make a difference with every smile and laugh and wise word spoken. </div>
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she makes me happy.</div>
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<div style="text-align: center;">
she makes me brave. just being around her...she changes me. i dig deep and find the courage that she shows me is there. she is truthful. she is wise. she is full of life. she is true beauty and goodness. she is Jesus' strength and power and love. she is real...and she is extraordinary. she is what i long to be.</div>
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<div style="text-align: center;">
well...her mama was sick this particular day. she was sick as can be. she was the kind of sick that i have been afraid of since i was 12. she was sick to her stomach. and she was throwing up. all. day. long.</div>
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<div style="text-align: center;">
she would hold herself together long enough to hold her baby down to be poked and prodded and never lose patience with the nurses who were doing it or the child who was demanding her strength that she didn't have. and then she would calmly walk to the bathroom and wretch. she had no nutrients or fluid in her body. she had no fuel to sustain her. yet she kept going. she kept comforting. and she kept singing lullabies. and she kept whispering how much she loved her sweet girl. and she kept playing. and getting snacks for her girl. and she kept having her sweet baby take sips of water....even though she was the one who was dehydrated and weak and thirsty. she kept telling the doctors and nurses thank you. she kept focusing on everyone but herself. and when it came to pass that her baby was going to need a blood transfusion...keeping us tethered to the hospital well into the evening...she kept worrying about me. <i>me.</i></div>
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she worried about <i>my </i>children...at home, safety with my friend and neighbor. she worried i would miss my soccer game. she worried about <i>me.</i></div>
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<div style="text-align: center;">
i couldn't believe what i was witnessing. it was a kind of selflessness that i wasn't used to. it was Jesus. again. it was love. it was an example of how on the cross...when he had every right to be totally focused on his own cup...his own pain...his own circumstances...he shouted out to the Father to forgive me...that i didn't know what i was doing. he loved <i>me.</i></div>
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<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
i don't think i will ever forget last friday. it was a gift to be there with these two people. whatever i did to help them that day doesn't compare to what they did for me.</div>
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God...bless them. bless them both. i beg. they are here to serve you. they are here to show people your love. they do it well, Lord. bless them for it. </div>
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<i> </i></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<i>****</i></div>
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<div style="text-align: center;">
<i> </i>you may be wondering what the dermatologist has to do with that story. well...as fate would have it...</div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
while my friend was in the bathroom, throwing up for the bazillion time...a nurse walked up as i held that sweet girl in my lap and simply asked,</div>
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<div style="text-align: center;">
"are you her grandma?"</div>
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<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
commence skin care regimen.<i> </i></div>
m.c.http://www.blogger.com/profile/17328314630793412008noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-34871628.post-38132069271761300372013-04-10T20:32:00.001-04:002013-04-10T20:32:57.552-04:00zoo.<div style="text-align: center;">
i figure this is as good a way as any to put off cleaning the kitchen. maybe i'll type another tomorrow to put off that laundry that needs to be done.</div>
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<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
annslee had her very first trip to the zoo on monday. it was a preschool field trip of sorts. i worked it out so that most of my preschool co op class could all go together...and i think everyone really had fun. i'm gonna be real honest. i'm not really a "zoo" kinda girl. don't get me wrong...i like animals and everything. but...they don't even have horses there. and this is a fact that really bothered flicka as well. the day before we went...i asked her,</div>
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"so annslee??? are you excited to go to the zoo tomorrow?"</div>
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annslee: "no."</div>
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<div style="text-align: center;">
me: "but there will be animals there!! that will be so exciting!!"</div>
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annslee (a little more excited): "oh...ok."</div>
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me: "what animal are you most excited about seeing?"</div>
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annslee: "the horses!!!!"</div>
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should have thought that one through. so i told her that the zoo didn't actually haaaaaave horses...but that they did have a koala! and that's super cool since i call you my little koala sometimes!</div>
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"yes! i'm excited to see the koala!" she giggled.</div>
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guess which zoo got rid of their koala?</div>
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it's ok. she took rock star barbie with her and proceeded to sing taylor swift's <i>weEEEEEE are never ever ever getting back together </i>through the entire giraffe, hippo, and primate habitat while holding rock star barbie's microphone to her mouth.</div>
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"hey...rock star barbie...look at that thing that they are trying to tell me is a striped horse."</div>
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"have <i>you </i>met rock start barbie?"</div>
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we did stumble upon some white tailed deer. i found it interesting that no one else was excited about this. they just passed right on by...barely even glancing their way. there were no children who were standing by the railing to their pen. there were no mom's taking their picture. i heard someone even say,</div>
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"oh...that's just a white tailed deer."</div>
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like no big thing.</div>
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and i wanted to jump up and down and excitedly scream,</div>
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"THIS IS MY FAVORITE ANIMAL!!!! I CAN'T BELIEVE THERE IS ONE LAYING RIGHT HERE IN FRONT OF ME!!! AREN'T THEY THE MOST GRACEFUL THINGS IN THE WORLD???"</div>
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i sort of did do that. but there was no one around to hear me except annslee.</div>
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and my girl was excited.</div>
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and just as i'm typing this...aiden walked up beside me and asked what these pictures were from. i said, "the zoo." and she exclaimed, "YOU SAW A DEER!!!!"</div>
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that's my girl.</div>
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i can only imagine "WHERE IS ROCK STAR BARBIE????" when i look at this picture.</div>
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<div style="text-align: center;">
i've sorta been thinking about why i'm not really a zoo person...and i don't really have an answer.</div>
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i do know...that if you took me to a horse ranch...</div>
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where white tailed deer come out in the evening...</div>
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i would be hard pressed to contain my enchantment.</div>
m.c.http://www.blogger.com/profile/17328314630793412008noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-34871628.post-48684000290913907722013-04-03T22:47:00.002-04:002013-04-03T22:50:02.160-04:00tearing up over moments<div style="text-align: center;">
there have been more teary moments lately than usual. i'm not sure of the problem. or even if there is one. sometimes...letting loose of emotion is a good thing.</div>
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<div style="text-align: center;">
tearing up over these moments:</div>
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my mom always sets out a bunny village for the easter season. and i loooooved this thing. and they do too.</div>
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mom gave the girls bunny aprons to help with some easter treats.</div>
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so....maybe i still love playing with this thing.</div>
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there are bunny tails on these aprons, for cryin out loud! who wouldn't be happy looking at those things?</div>
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as luck would have it...colt pulled that pesky molar out the day before easter. so...obviously, the easter bunny and the tooth fairy met up that night.</div>
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they partied.</div>
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beautiful people. beautiful moments. </div>
m.c.http://www.blogger.com/profile/17328314630793412008noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-34871628.post-78651333828048882832013-03-30T12:11:00.002-04:002013-03-30T12:11:34.948-04:00sneaky distractions<div style="text-align: center;">
the older i get...the faster things sneak up on me.</div>
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easter is tomorrow. and as i ran around yesterday...knowing it was good friday...the day in history that Jesus gave up his life...i realized my tension.</div>
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<span style="font-size: xx-small;">chad call<span style="font-size: xx-small;">s this my "yearly tutorial on egg dying." look at how intently colt is listening to my instructions on how not to slosh the egg dye.</span></span></div>
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yesterday was the day that i had time. chad was home. i could run around looking for swimsuits and goggles and chocolate eggs and those disgusting duck marshmallows to fill the kid's baskets without my sweet, little tag alongs. i mean...i realize that it's not about the bunny...but i'm not ready to take that part of childhood magic away from my littles. i still got a basket when i was in high school...God bless my mother...and it didn't mean that i loved Jesus any less.</div>
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but...and here's my big BUT...i realized that i am a person who needs...NEEDS...to be able to slow down my mind and truly focus all of my emotion on the things that are important. for example...i can't just breeze through a kid's birthday. i have to emotionally engage with the day...and <i>feel </i>everything it means...and create all kinds of details that will commemorate the experience.<i> </i>so...spending good friday shopping for basket fillers felt...frustrating.</div>
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<span style="font-size: xx-small;">i, for one, am glad to see that he is taking this seriously.</span> </div>
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i kept thinking...what could we do? what could we do to <i>feel </i>the day...the weight of it...the importance...the gratitude? in order to feel those things...i would have to let myself slow down and experience the grief of what He did. i would have to <i>go there.</i> and i can't really <i>go there </i>in a target aisle. and i find it hard to <i>go there </i>with a cluttered house...because my cluttered house is in direct correlation to my cluttered mind.</div>
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so...instead of going to the next store on my list...i headed home, in the hopes of an evening with my family. maybe we could watch the Jesus film together. maybe we could locate <i>the bible </i>episodes on demand. maybe we could read the story together. maybe we could <i>go there </i>together.</div>
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<span style="font-size: xx-small;">colt was distracted all day by a big, ole' molar that would not come out.</span></div>
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where we ended up <i>going </i>was a grand opening party of a friend's business and taco cabana.</div>
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i'm not beating myself up about it. but i am learning to recognize my distractions. i am learning that each of our distractions come in disguise. they are disguised in the most perfect and individual way. it may be work for one. it may be sports for another. it may be a pesky tooth ache for that one. and maybe...just maybe...it's trying to make all their easter outfits coordinate perfectly for someone else. i'm distracted by perfection. the perfect easter activities for my preschoolers...the perfect dyed eggs...the perfect candy for the baskets...the perfect side dish and dessert to bring for easter dinner...the perfect bunnied, jammies to wear. and yes...the perfect emotional reaction to the cross on good friday. well played, satan. well played.</div>
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so...today...i'm doing my best to say NO to all of <i>my </i>distractions. today, i will read the story to my children. today, i will go and get the food that i need to take to my parents...and view it as a way of<i> serving</i> them...and not making everything perfect in order to <i>impress</i> them. today...i will love my kids and spend time <i>with</i> them and not <i>for</i> them. after all...they won't remember how much time i spent looking for the perfect pair of flip flops to go with their perfect pair of cargo shorts.</div>
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<span style="font-size: xx-small;">she talks to her eggs...</span></div>
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<span style="font-size: xx-small;"><span style="font-size: xx-small;">"hi little egg<span style="font-size: xx-small;">."</span></span></span></div>
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have a lovely Easter weekend, friends...with as few distractions as possible. </div>
m.c.http://www.blogger.com/profile/17328314630793412008noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-34871628.post-71364614449503772082013-03-25T23:32:00.000-04:002013-03-25T23:32:07.055-04:00slow dance<div style="text-align: center;">
my camera has stayed tucked in it's drawer at my desk. and my phone camera says it's full and no longer has any room for the images of my life. which is kinda ironic now that i think about it. obviously my mind feels like my phone does. full. and that's why i haven't reached for my camera lately. i even had a week of family love over spring break that i barely captured. that's the beach, st. patrick's day, cousins, a night full of musical and dance numbers put on by my children and my nieces and nephew...and not more than a few pictures to show for it.</div>
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that's very unlike me.</div>
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i'm trying to tell myself that it's okay. that i don't have to always be memory making. that my brain can just be. that i can run around fixing microphones and playing dj and wardrobe change helper and duet side kick when my girl gets scared to sing her <i>queen of hearts </i>solo for our make shift grammys. (because let's face it...i'm never gonna turn down singing <i>queen of hearts.</i>) and that i don't also have to be responsible for being behind the camera to preserve every last detail. i can just be in the moment. living the moment. doing the harlem shake in the background.</div>
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however...i'm a happier person when looking at life through my camera lens. because...it's then...that something seemingly "ordinary" becomes "EXTRAordinary." it's then that i notice the details.</div>
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case in point: little sister looking at her big sister to see just exactly what it is she's supposed to be doing...a moment that would have been lost without the lens.</div>
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witnessing their bond...walking and chatting...and imagining them doing the same thing as adults some day. maybe they will be reminiscing about their childhood. or maybe they will be talking about their own kids. or maybe just walking in comfortable silence and the security that only a sibling can offer.</div>
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the lens helps me to remember how the wind blew our skirts as we walked.</div>
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and how they walked on ahead.</div>
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and how she held onto my arm.</div>
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and that lens points out how long her legs are getting ...dangling from their home on my hip.</div>
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certainly i wouldn't have remembered their game of rock, paper, scissor.</div>
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or the way that it made me smile when i noticed that his shirt matched my drink.</div>
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yes. i realize how i've missed my lens. i don't like it when my mind tells my heart that there is not enough space for my life's images. and i guess that's how i know that something has to change. some priorities need to sway to the right while some others sway to the left...doing that familiar dance that they have to do when the music of life gets a little too loud. i have to put a slow song on because lawd knows...this girl can hop onto the table during a good hip hop number and stay there one song too long.</div>
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i can see myself giving me the two eye brow raised evil eye...quick, but firm pointer finger signal to get off the table.</div>
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and i'm glad that i obey her.</div>
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because don't you just know that a great slow song is coming on?? like <i>put your head on my shoulder? </i>and thank God i'm off that table so that i can let those priorities do their slow dance and get themselves calmed down. and when that beautiful song is over...all is right with the world again.</div>
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and i pick up my camera again. and daily life resumes it's magicalness. and my brain has all kinds of room for my life's images again.</div>
m.c.http://www.blogger.com/profile/17328314630793412008noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-34871628.post-34717525085036270962013-03-20T23:01:00.000-04:002013-03-20T23:01:42.230-04:00ice cream's on me<div style="text-align: center;">
they are prepping the kids for some big, state test this week at school. this means that we are all being prepped. not only am i being prepped on what kind of breakfast they need that morning, and what kind of brain sharpening snacks they need to bring on testing days, and how much sleep they need to get, and what kinds of clothing are most comfortable...but i've also become a writing tutor.</div>
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<br /></div>
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the packet comes home in the back pack...half done...and i am to sign it, assuring them that i have watched him or helped him finish it and that it is...indeed...up to snuff.</div>
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in this case...there was a lot of helping.</div>
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we went over the instructions. i made certain that he understood the assignment. and then i reminded him that "he didn't have to be scared of writing...and that all writing was...was telling a story on paper." however, all the talk about paragraph indention, correct tense, and spelling counting and correct grammar usage had the boy in a word induced stupor.</div>
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when i thought that he was ready...i left him to work. he wrote a short essay on the given subject "a goal for your life."</div>
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<div style="text-align: center;">
ha.</div>
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a 10 year old boy writing an essay about a life goal.</div>
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his biggest goal tonight was getting desert after dinner.</div>
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anyhow...</div>
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he decided to write about becoming a famous piano player.</div>
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(i say...go for it, kid.)</div>
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when he was done, he brought it to me and said, "how's this? did i do good?"</div>
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as i read it, he resumed play elsewhere in the house...that "lofty famous piano player goal" the farthest thing from his mind.</div>
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after i read it...i put my head in my hands.</div>
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i may be a writer...but i'm not a teacher. i don't have the first clue how to teach a fourth grader how to write an essay. we went back to the drawing board and i did the only thing i knew to do. i flipped the paper over and told him to tell me the story while i wrote what he said. i explained where he naturally started a new paragraph in his story...and showed him how to do that on the paper. i told him how to conclude an essay with a sentence that wraps it all together.</div>
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he didn't look so dejected after we did it that way. however...it was no secret that i wouldn't be there when test day came.</div>
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<div style="text-align: center;">
there's a lot of pressure put on these kids with this test. and i don't think it's fair. fair may not be the right word here. i mean...there is that whole, starving children thing, that when speaking of what's fair and not fair always enters my mind. but you know what i mean.</div>
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<br /></div>
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and to the educational system that say they don't make the test <i>seem</i> like a big deal to the kids...</div>
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here's a tip...</div>
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when you order t-shirts for the whole school faculty to wear on the test days...</div>
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it's kinda sending the message that it's a big deal.</div>
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my kid's not stupid.</div>
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<br /></div>
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and he doesn't need that kind of pressure.</div>
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<div style="text-align: center;">
let him eat his lucky charms. and wear whatever he puts on...as if it's any other morning. and go to bed the night before like it's any other night...thinking of the frog he caught in the backyard that evening and the pop sickle stain on his pajamas. and whether or not he will get that new coon hat that he's been wanting. and let him come to school...where you can pass out that test like it's any other test. teach him the stuff that is gonna be on that test. send it home and we will work on it here...like we did tonight. but don't make it something it's not.</div>
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don't make it what makes him deemed SMART, or SUCCESSFUL, or WORTHY.</div>
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and for the love of GOD...don't broadcast all the kids who get COMMENDED PERFORMANCES in the class in front of everyone while the kids who didn't sit there...looking down...fighting off the embarrassment like you did a few years back. not cool. like...at all.</div>
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please...don't send him the message, at 10 years old, that if he does poorly on this test...</div>
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<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
...he's not GOOD ENOUGH.</div>
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my standardized test scores told me that ALL MY LIFE.</div>
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it has taken me a master's degree, becoming a writer, a rocking IQ test score, and a good 20 years to realize that those test scores didn't determine my intelligence worth. and a lot of times...that all get's confused with your entire worth as a person.</div>
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and i'll be damned if i'm gonna let it happen to them too.</div>
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so...i guess what i'm saying is...if you're wanting this household to get all frazzled and act like this test is the end all be all to his school career and worth as a human being...</div>
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<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
...IT'S NOT GONNA HAPPEN.</div>
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<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
when that test day rolls around, i'm telling my kid the same thing i tell him every other day...</div>
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<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
"you go rock today being the best YOU you can be. be kind. be honest. love God and love people...but worry more about what God thinks about you than those people. and no matter what...i couldn't love you any more or any less."</div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
and if he does all of that stuff...but fails that big test...</div>
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<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
ice cream's on me.</div>
m.c.http://www.blogger.com/profile/17328314630793412008noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-34871628.post-37038529909765624272013-03-18T23:31:00.000-04:002013-03-18T23:34:29.224-04:00this is what we've been up to...things may have been quiet on the blog lately...
but most definitely...
NOT in the house.
this is what we've been up to:
<iframe width="560" height="315" src="http://www.youtube.com/embed/DCqxfLgILBg" frameborder="0" allowfullscreen></iframe>m.c.http://www.blogger.com/profile/17328314630793412008noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-34871628.post-1669576653469600762013-03-07T09:41:00.001-05:002013-03-07T09:41:12.868-05:00almost friday funnies.<div style="text-align: center;">
everything is running slow these days. me...for one. even my computer. it just took 15 minutes to open firefox. bleh.</div>
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<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
i'm going to post something that never fails to make me laugh.</div>
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<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
because i need a good laugh.</div>
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<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
about a month or so ago...our family was out to dinner with some friends. and let me just tell you...i overheard a conversation between our 10 year old son and their 10 year old son...</div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
...and that's when i realized that conversations between 10 year old boys ain't what they used to be.</div>
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<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
***** </div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
J.T.: "My birthday is august 25th."</div>
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<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
Chase (cocking his head to the side and thinking hard) (i just knew he knew of something in history that happened on that day and i was waiting to hear what it was): "I know something else that happened on that day." (That's my boy, I thought.) "Neil Armstrong died. I'm sure about it."</div>
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<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
J.T.: "I know what happened that day too. Amanda Bynes got her license revoked."</div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
Chase (seemingly interested and shocked at amanda bynes' irresponsibility): "Really?" </div>
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<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
*****</div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
And since my computer has frozen up about 27 times and shut down twice automatically since i started typing this...</div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
that's all she wrote.</div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
and by "she"...i mean..."me."</div>
m.c.http://www.blogger.com/profile/17328314630793412008noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-34871628.post-8015155031298208342013-02-26T10:40:00.001-05:002013-02-26T10:40:40.653-05:00go texan day and rodeo art<div style="text-align: center;">
it's co-op day. that means that i get to spend from 12:00-4:00 teaching three 3 year olds (one of them being my spunky flicka)...one 4 year old...and two 5 year olds.</div>
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<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
we are in the middle of a space unit. because i say so.</div>
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<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
i am currently wasting time until chad can find a new ink cartridge for the printer so that my planet printables will continue printing. we are making a planet diagram today. oooooooorrrrrr...if chad doesn't have more ink for the printer...playing with play dough. i've found that play dough can go a long way.</div>
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<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
****</div>
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<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
friday was go texan day. i've written about my love for go texan day and all things "rodeo related" before...but i really can't get enough. my love affair with go texan day stems back to my early elementary school days and spans well into adulthood. we even had it in high school...where we got to rock the rocky mountain jeans and ropers and feel cool about doing so.</div>
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<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
back in the day...your coolness factor was directly related to how many rodeo performances you were attending.</div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
some of my most favorite rodeo's over the course of my 38 years include:</div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
the statler brothers</div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
anne murray </div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
george strait</div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
alabama</div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
clint black </div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
john mayer</div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
and</div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
miranda lambert<br />
<br />
there are so many more...but those are my favorites. my parents even saw elvis the year i was born.<br />
<br />
it always begins with the trail ride coming into houston. and that day...<br />
<br />
well...<br />
<br />
that's GO TEXAN day!<br />
<br />
this is the day that all little boys and girls transform into real cowboys and cowgirls. everywhere you look, you see boots and hats and pearl snapped shirts.<br />
<br />
2013: <br />
<br />
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2012:<br />
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2011:<br />
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i've noticed over the years that once the boys hit around 4th grade...they stop participating for a while. you maaaay be able to convince them to wear a plaid shirt and jeans...but that's about it.<br />
<br />
don't even get me started on rodeo art and how i never won. every year...i sketched horses in pencil and colors with great concentration and precision...sure that it would be my year. and i always fell short...losing out to some artistic abstract of boots and a hat. oooohhhhh how i wanted my horses to win.<br />
<br />
i just can't believe they don't still have rodeo art in elementary schools. it's a crying shame. i mean...i'm fairly certain i could take over one of the kids and win. i mean...it couldn't be aiden's because she really enjoys art and would be all insistent in doing her own...blah...blah...blah...<br />
<br />
but chase???? now...he's a realistic option for me. he's not into art at all. i'm pretty sure i could convince him. i'm not above cheating at this point. this girl needs a rodeo art blue ribbon.<br />
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****<br />
<br />
yesterday...i pulled an old bookcase off the wall and decided, on a whim, to distress it. it's old...and doesn't hold any kind of family pass-down value...so i wasn't too worried about ruining it. i even let annslee do some sanding...which meant that the scratch lines didn't always end up going in the same direction...but her enjoyment in helping was totally worth it. <br />
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i wasn't even sure where i was gonna let that shelf live...or what purpose it was going to serve until i was finished.<br />
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turns out...it makes a really good art shelf.<br />
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a few glass jars and baskets of coloring books and construction paper later...and we have a quaint little place by the table to create.<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjzxsX_F2FF0rODtnhSbRDSOHy25nWHeyAPJTFQ9iUm1vsLqY-RMrFu1nEk6bO6drBeaTtceopEC6NYWk3_p1G69gCPvTek0NnEsXAb-Z5gLg8kHKcQFoSXeVID63B_61X_A16a/s1600/2-26-13+go+texan+and+art+shelf+re-do+014.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="263" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjzxsX_F2FF0rODtnhSbRDSOHy25nWHeyAPJTFQ9iUm1vsLqY-RMrFu1nEk6bO6drBeaTtceopEC6NYWk3_p1G69gCPvTek0NnEsXAb-Z5gLg8kHKcQFoSXeVID63B_61X_A16a/s400/2-26-13+go+texan+and+art+shelf+re-do+014.JPG" width="400" /></a></div>
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<div style="text-align: center;">
it makes me pretty happy. </div>
m.c.http://www.blogger.com/profile/17328314630793412008noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-34871628.post-33094651474628949522013-02-20T14:40:00.001-05:002013-02-20T14:40:36.379-05:00Make happiness...<div style="text-align: center;">
God love this child. After I tucked her in the other night...she looked around her messy room and begged,</div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
"Will you pleeeeeeaaaaassssse leave the tooth fairy a note...telling her that I am in the middle of cleaning my room? I don't want her to think that I leave it like this!"</div>
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I replied,</div>
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"Don't you think she will see through that? Besides...I think she would be more concerned with if you brushed your teeth or not."</div>
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<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
She darted her eyes to the side...remembering that she had, indeed, forgotten to brush her teeth...and jumped up, skirted to the bathroom, and got the job done at break necking pace. She even brushed the one that fell out.</div>
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I tucked her in...promised to write the note...and kissed her goodnight.</div>
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<br /></div>
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And I almost forgot.</div>
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<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
To write the note, that is.</div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
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<div style="text-align: center;">
I mean...it's not like I would have gone to bed...without checking to make sure the tooth fairy had come. I've never done that before. I've never had to pretend the money had fallen behind the bed in the middle of the night and had been there all along to quiet the sobs of a small boy who thought the tooth fairy had totally forgotten about him. No sirree, bob.</div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
Anyway...I carefully scribed the note...and walked it upstairs to her room.</div>
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<div style="text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
That child had spent...who knows how long*...cleaning her room. She even set her doll up with her toy toothbrush and toothpaste. Just for good measure.</div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
*(except now i do know how long...because i opened her closet door the next morning to get her school clothes out and the entire contents of her room was shoved inside that tiny closet. so...technically...not that long.)</div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
I left the note.</div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
And the tooth fairy left a buck...</div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
...and was very impressed with Aiden's clean room and her doll...who...apparently...brushes her own teeth.</div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
She was never the wiser.</div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
****</div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
We recently celebrated this pretty lady's 92nd Birthday. This is Honey. She's my grandmother. And boy...do I love this woman. </div>
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<br />
<div style="text-align: center;">
We also set out to draw the longest picture in the world.</div>
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Soooo...maybe we've been watching a little too much of Ramona and Beezus lately. Although...I'm not sure that's possible. It is one of my favorites.</div>
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We also had a day of Valentine crafting that turned into a whole weekend.</div>
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We sent a super secret Valentine to our best babysitter in the world, J.B. She's away at school and we miss that girl.</div>
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The baby got her very first Valentine box of her own.</div>
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And a special little girl turned 4. She has had a rough year this year and has endured things that nobody...much less a child...should have to endure. She wanted flowers for her room. And...she should have them.</div>
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Now...she does.</div>
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We had a 50's style, Valentine's Ice Cream Social and Sock Hop.</div>
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You can only imagine my thrill to pull out my old poodle skirt (that my mom made me when I was little) for the girl to wear.</div>
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I adore this picture. I really don't think I could love it any more.</div>
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And I find it hilarious that she gave her big brother the shaft...like...</div>
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"You interrupted my date!!!!"</div>
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And in case you thought that I didn't pull out my poodle skirt from my Senior Musical days.......</div>
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............you'd be mistaken!</div>
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I should have been Sandy. No question about it!!</div>
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So...clearly the thing to do...is pretend to be her now. At 38. I think that it's completely rational and acceptable behavior for a grown mother of 4 that chickened out of her call back for the lead role back in the day.</div>
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And in case you thought that I forgot to teach them the twist...</div>
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fear not.</div>
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Oh yeah........</div>
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<br /></div>
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we played with a monkey at Gallery Furniture.</div>
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and that sentence did seem just as weird when I typed it as it did in my head.</div>
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He tried to swipe some things out of my camera case.</div>
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and the gum out of my purse.</div>
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We capped it off by jumping on the biggest bed in the world...right in front of Mattress Mack, himself.</div>
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and you're just going to have to trust me on that one...</div>
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because I was not about to put a camera in that man's face right after he saw me jumping on the bed.</div>
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I do have to draw the "crazy" line somewhere.</div>
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Happy middle of the week. Now...go...</div>
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Make happiness.</div>
m.c.http://www.blogger.com/profile/17328314630793412008noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-34871628.post-62886136390975206912013-02-15T19:12:00.002-05:002013-02-15T19:12:45.738-05:00it's only a weekend.<div style="text-align: center;">
this afternoon...my oldest son left for church camp. we have had such a busy week...preparing for 14 gillion valentine's parties this week that it sorta snuck up on me.</div>
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around noon...i read over the list of things he needed to pack. soooooo....maybe i'm a procrastinator. </div>
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it wasn't until then that i realized i was nervous about this whole deal. and i questioned why? am i nervous about him going alone? not really. am i nervous about the bus ride? that's not quite it either. am i nervous about what is happening at camp? no. </div>
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so...then what?</div>
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oh yeah...he's old enough to do this without me needing to be nervous. that's what this anxious/excited/a little bit sad feeling is about.</div>
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i love the relationship of brothers. don't get me wrong. it's amazing.</div>
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but...</div>
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there is something...</div>
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unspoken...</div>
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...that i can't really put into words...</div>
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about watching an older brother with his sisters.</div>
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that relationship never fails to cause me to do a small gasp...and cause my blink to stay closed a little longer...and a half smile to sweep across my face while i marvel at this gift i've been entrusted with. </div>
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****</div>
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as we were pulling last minute things together...like flashlights and sleeping bags...i thought about a note. i had to hide a note in his bag...just like i used to hide in his lunch kit when he was little.</div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjGBKDQUiihdWYiWzZTkTsgVGqwGy8cbgavnVmOe2M-jjUdLKhMv2sn3xhrZYo7C5vyyvgJBsp7xrDV7uuwQIgdo1hxkY9pvrLg1Cy-F26wk3dgnQIBFUNVooDRC0P4z1YhWkTG/s1600/2-15-13+kid%27s+show,+valentines+day,+and+colt+goes+to+camp+115.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="263" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjGBKDQUiihdWYiWzZTkTsgVGqwGy8cbgavnVmOe2M-jjUdLKhMv2sn3xhrZYo7C5vyyvgJBsp7xrDV7uuwQIgdo1hxkY9pvrLg1Cy-F26wk3dgnQIBFUNVooDRC0P4z1YhWkTG/s400/2-15-13+kid%27s+show,+valentines+day,+and+colt+goes+to+camp+115.JPG" width="400" /></a></div>
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and as i was writing...i thought...</div>
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"i need to leave a sticky note in his sack lunch too. just so he knows how much we love him while he's on the bus. i mean...he won't get this card until he unzips his bag."</div>
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i headed to the kitchen...and that's when i saw his sister...ripping a stick-it-note off it's pad and dropping it into his sack. </div>
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sister had my back.</div>
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and that was sufficient.</div>
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and after he pulled away...there we were.</div>
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and i had visions of a teenager and a 9 year old sister...waving bye to their college bound brother.</div>
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and then i was thankful.</div>
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that i have them.</div>
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and that this time...</div>
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it's only for a weekend.</div>
m.c.http://www.blogger.com/profile/17328314630793412008noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-34871628.post-49353918250074193702013-02-07T20:04:00.001-05:002013-02-07T20:04:25.661-05:00it could have been a call from the pokey<div style="text-align: center;">
last night...i could have very easily been thrown in jail. i could have had to call my parents from the police station...AGAIN!!! chad is out of town, of course...and the reason why this would be the SECOND time my parents had to be called to come get me from a police station is totally beside the point. the FIRST time...it wasn't my fault. i swear. and i didn't even get an MIP like the rest of my friends did that night. so there. i said it.</div>
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it took me until 5:00 in the afternoon to muster up the energy to go grocery shopping...which meant that 3 out of the 4 kids had to go with me. we had nothing in the house for dinner...and 5:00 was as good a time as any to realize that something had to be done.</div>
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so...off we went.</div>
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but first, we had to stop at michael's...a craft store. this is where i decided that i would never take them to that place again. that is where annslee lost a shoe. and sadly...it wasn't even HER shoe. she had put her sister's shoes on before we left and i failed to catch it.</div>
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so...she tantrumed her way through most of the store...shoes flippin' and floppin' all over the place. she was insisting on pushing the cart by "mywelf" and she couldn't even see where she was going. so...she would just run into things. or people. and she would scream a blood curdling scream every time i would try to help her. and her right shoe kept coming off...causing her to sit down in the middle of the store...screaming..."MY YOU...MY YOU...WAIT...MY YOU CAME OFF!!!"</div>
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this is when a normal person would have cut their losses, picked up mcdonald happy meal's and headed the heck out of dodge.</div>
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but not me.</div>
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no sirree.</div>
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i can handle target with one hand tied behind my back.</div>
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plus...we didn't have anything for breakfast or lunch today either.</div>
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so...it wasn't until we arrived at target that i realized that annslee was missing a shoe. it must have fallen off in the parking lot. so...she was barefoot. and that meant she had to ride in the cart. and anyone that knows this child...knows that she is not one to be confined. anywhere.</div>
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we went up and down every isle...in every section...twice. at first...i was all,</div>
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look at us...meandering around target...all peaceful and happy...perusing the cute valentine stuff and dog toys. i should have known that they would eventually tire of the experience that is target. and they did. aiden and chase began declaring that they were, indeed, starving. annslee was surfing in the cart...grabbing clothing as we walked by. that's how she ended up with a brand new, horsey t-shirt. and a few nice, games of tag began in the frozen food section. and let me just say...i HATE it when we see someone we barely know from school and it's awkward because we sort of pretend we didn't see each other but then chase whispers in a voice that is somehow louder than his regular voice...</div>
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"THAT'S HANNAH'S MOM."</div>
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and when i ignore him...thinking that if i don't acknowledge him...he'll quit saying it...so he just keeps getting louder.</div>
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"MOM...THAT'S HANNAH'S MOM. DID YOU SEE HER? THERE SHE IS. DO YOU SEE HER NOW?"</div>
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so...fast forward. i'm in line...finally...and i've picked the slowest cashier in the joint. because that's what i do. i've loaded my entire cart. hushed aj 86 times. told chase and aiden to keep their hands off each other double that. and answered colton's call wondering when we were coming home and what was for dinner.</div>
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a nice line had developed while she was scanning my items slow as christmas.</div>
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i had already let one person go in front of me. they only had 1 item. and i had 427.</div>
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when she finally gave me the total...i scanned my card...hurrying to get me and my circus performers out of the store.</div>
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that's when it happened.</div>
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the cash register beeped. i looked up and saw...</div>
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"denied."</div>
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"WHAT????"</div>
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(the man behind me actually rolled his eyes.)</div>
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i did a half smile and swiped again.</div>
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"denied."</div>
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swipe...swipe...swipe.</div>
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denied...denied...denied.</div>
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"ma'am...i'm sorry...but do you have another way to pay?"</div>
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sheepishly...i thumb through my wallet for my check card.</div>
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swipe.</div>
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"error."</div>
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swipe.</div>
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"error."</div>
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(man behind me says something under his breath. annslee is screaming for "mum." chase and aiden are whining about pretzels.)</div>
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i cleared my throat and whispered, "can you just manually type it in? i promise it will work." </div>
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we finally got it and i maneuvered my full cart...with aj on my hip...SHOELESS...as chase and aiden tripped over each other...to the snack stand for the pretzels. we still needed dinner after all.</div>
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that's when the man and the woman who were behind me in line passed by.</div>
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the man looked at me...then looked at the woman...and said,</div>
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"that's 30 minutes i'll never get back."</div>
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so...this is when the whole "jail" part comes in.</div>
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because...in my mind...i killed that man. like...took one of those slurpy straws to his eyeballs and then dug them out with that cool straw spoon at the end thing.</div>
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please tell me that someone else has felt like a total circus act before. please.</div>
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****</div>
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colt had his best game this past saturday. </div>
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get a load of this kid guarding him. he is huge. that's the tricky thing about sports at this age. there is such a range in the kid's sizes. he is 12...just like colt. but he was bigger than i am. </div>
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<div style="text-align: center;">
when colt pointed out the other team's size before the game...i pointed out right back:</div>
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"they are bigger than you. but you are faster than them. you can get around them and under them before they get to you. just handle the ball like i know you can. and make your shots."</div>
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and he did.</div>
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he sunk this one.</div>
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went under this kid for a lay up...</div>
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swished this 3 pointer...</div>
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and a second 3 pointer to put an exclamation on it.</div>
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they didn't win. but it sure was a fun game to watch. and he certainly had fun playing it. and isn't that kinda the point? </div>
m.c.http://www.blogger.com/profile/17328314630793412008noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-34871628.post-12057931338164840482013-02-03T12:10:00.002-05:002013-02-03T12:10:37.260-05:00pocahontas and confessions about hair.<div style="text-align: center;">
well...the USWNT started training camp this morning. and i'm eating donuts.</div>
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why this bothers me remains to be figured.</div>
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****</div>
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this weekend feels like it started friday morning, for some reason. that was when little aiden was transformed into little pocahontas. and since this is my form of a photo album...you're gonna just have to bear with me. is that the right "bear?" i don't even know. i mean...it's not like i'm a grammar teacher. oh...wait... :/</div>
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like i said before...colt was jimmy carter for the living history museum in second grade. he wasn't super thrilled to do it...but didn't really act like it bothered him. and then chase was harry houdini...and i don't know if i told the story here or not...but that child was in acting heaven that morning. he absolutely loved transforming himself and showing the world the "magic" of harry houdini. he even brought a budapest coffee mug for people to throw their spare change into after he gave his performance. i didn't realize he was doing this, of course...until some, poor, unsuspecting parent had to empty their wallets of dollar bills because they didn't have change. it ranks up there with one of my finer parenting moments.</div>
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well...sister had a different opinion on this whole thing.</div>
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she told her teacher that she had come up with an acceptable plan to remedy her not-wanting-to-give-the-speech ordeal. "i'm going to make an "out of order" sign and put it on myself"...she reasoned.</div>
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then when that didn't fly...we reasoned together that if i kept taking pictures of her and she kept saying her speech to me and annslee that no one would else would come along and press her button. i rolled with this because i'm always a good accomplice in getting out of stuff you don't want to do. i could have a degree in that subject.</div>
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except when one of our favorite teachers rolls in.</div>
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then you just have to suck it up and give the speech.</div>
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and grandparents. you have to do it for them. but they're a very forgiving audience. they're your biggest fan before you even do anything.</div>
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after this big event...we went straight to the next one. cuz that's the way we do things 'round here.</div>
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little miss flicka got her very first hair cut.</div>
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look at me...suggesting that there is actually enough hair to cut chin length. </div>
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she insisted on sitting on my lap...which was fine with me...since we had mr. rooter, himself, offer to take pictures for me. i'm not gonna lie. i wanted to clean my camera after he touched it. hopefully he was there for a hair cut and not to fix the plumbing.</div>
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here she sits...with all her rewards.</div>
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they tell me that if i keep trimming it...it will thicken up and grow faster. who knows if this is true. all i know is that my heart breaks for her every time she tells me that she wants hair like "a-a's" (aiden's). she knows that all of the other 3 years olds in her pre-school class have long, thick hair. she has heard me correct total strangers when they tell me stupid things like...</div>
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"oh...how unique that you cut her hair in a little pixie cut!"</div>
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looking back...i should have just owned it...and taught her to own it...by saying...</div>
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"yeah...thanks! we're cool like that."</div>
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i'm gonna be real here...cuz i think it's important. over the last several months...her lack of hair has started bothering me. i've found myself noticing all the other 3 year old girl's hair and comparing it to her thin, wispy baby hair...that won't hold big bows or barrettes of any kind. i've done one of the worst things i could do as a mom...</div>
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i've wished that her hair was different.</div>
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i've wished that it was something it wasn't.</div>
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and i've felt guilty.</div>
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it's bothered me whenever she isn't in a dress or something pink and people automatically think she's a boy. </div>
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i pull her into my bathroom every morning and comb the little bits of hair that i can muster together and tie them with the world's smallest rubber band so that a bow will stay in it.</div>
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and i've felt guilty.</div>
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and then...the other day...when i was wondering if she was ever going to have hair that doesn't break off into thin wisps once it grows past her shoulders...my heart broke because i saw how vain i was being. and how ungrateful i was being.</div>
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and i felt guilty.</div>
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see...i have a mama friend who's 3 year old daughter lost every bit of her long, thick, brown hair when cancer and chemo took over her tiny body. as i type my story here...tears are flooding my eyes because of how stupid i've been. i glance over at my tiny girl...with her thin, wispy, baby hair barely tickling her neck...and i feel...</div>
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guilty.</div>
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and i realize how unfair life really is.</div>
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not because MY girl doesn't have more hair...</div>
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but because of why HER girl has none.</div>
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i will turn every second of thoughts about MY girl's lack of hair into minutes of prayer for HER girl to be rid of the reason that she lost hers.</div>
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please forgive me, Lord...for my vanity and selfishness...and please...i beg you...to make HER girl well...and give her a long and healthy life...and some really slammin' hair.</div>
m.c.http://www.blogger.com/profile/17328314630793412008noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-34871628.post-82404341934238188212013-01-30T22:53:00.000-05:002013-01-30T22:53:54.919-05:00mid week<div style="text-align: center;">
you know you know you're not firing on all cylinders when you wash your face with men's shampoo/body wash while explaining to the two superheros...who have taken up residence in your shower...why you are not using acceptable face soap.</div>
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"i'm only doing this because i ran out of my face soap and i keep forgetting to buy more. plus...the manly smell isn't that bad. and it really does seem to be opening up these clogged sinuses that i have going right now. so stop judging me."</div>
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all of this was to the familiar soundtrack of annslee saying, "i want..."</div>
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she says "i want" more times a day than anybody i've ever met in my life.</div>
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"mommy...i wan mum (gum). mommy...i wan watch pout (sprout). mommy...i wan 2 happys (pappys). mommy...i wan yelp (help). mommy...i wan yeareal (cereal). i wan mmm (milk) i wan cwaquet (chocolate). i wan do it. i wan use yoap (soap). i wan watch elmo. i wan watch movie. i wan water. i wan sleep in your bed. i wan go wi you. i wan eat. i wan m&m's." and on...and on...and on.</div>
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so tonight...while explaining myself to the superhero shower crashers...all i could hear from my bed was,</div>
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"moooooommmmmmyyyyyy........i wan watch elmo."</div>
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sorta yelling so she could hear me over the shower and sprout: "no annslee. we are not going to watch elmo tonight. i told you that you could watch sprout while i was in the shower...but then it's bed time."</div>
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"moooooooooommmmmmmyyyyyy....i wan watch movie."</div>
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"no annslee. we are not going to watch a movie tonight."</div>
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"mooooommmmmmyyyy...i wan mmmmm with cwaquet in it."</div>
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"i wan two happys."</div>
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"you're gonna have to wait annslee."</div>
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i toweled off and pulled the tags off my new sleep find.</div>
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what is it about something new that brings a breath of fresh air to a situation. it was like..."yeah...i've got these awesome coral sleep shorts on...and now...i rule the world."</div>
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i walked out of my bathroom refreshed and with a bounce in my new jammied step.</div>
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there's my daughter. sleeping with guns. </div>
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and jumping. </div>
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if i didn't still have this nasty head cold...i may have just joined in.</div>
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****</div>
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keeping with things that make me happy...</div>
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look what turned up at the dollar spot today.</div>
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you know how a good bunch of seasonal pencils can brighten my day. </div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh4B9XPJtZmEIPDbUfNlyQ42fM2WczIlWqe06ilBDljJJcjeR1NrP4p0PP_-G-gkGAf0eDlTCk6smMO6DUR_jkgBIIW4siHtRQeQ-MopTNhakurDHmz1yCrw_jI01LxZjUQ0Qg1/s1600/1-30-13+outside+and+inside+kids+071.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh4B9XPJtZmEIPDbUfNlyQ42fM2WczIlWqe06ilBDljJJcjeR1NrP4p0PP_-G-gkGAf0eDlTCk6smMO6DUR_jkgBIIW4siHtRQeQ-MopTNhakurDHmz1yCrw_jI01LxZjUQ0Qg1/s400/1-30-13+outside+and+inside+kids+071.JPG" width="263" /></a></div>
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and holla...</div>
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these are paper straws from the discount bins at michaels.</div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjJdOsUztldY6uMk8XGEDZAT4HNotchnFhyphenhyphenfG7To8sS5zUaqloME3UD6gjlxNrICGLo-Olwl58Y8InxB5s7oNnj7LF-cHVXTkLqsqZKJlTzV8TwKE2sbpTpmEfU433Dni194Yz5/s1600/1-30-13+outside+and+inside+kids+072.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjJdOsUztldY6uMk8XGEDZAT4HNotchnFhyphenhyphenfG7To8sS5zUaqloME3UD6gjlxNrICGLo-Olwl58Y8InxB5s7oNnj7LF-cHVXTkLqsqZKJlTzV8TwKE2sbpTpmEfU433Dni194Yz5/s400/1-30-13+outside+and+inside+kids+072.JPG" width="263" /></a></div>
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a friend of mine...(hi a.b.) has banned me from going to michaels. so imagine her disappointment when she sees all of this stuff. i have a good excuse. isn't that how all addictions are justified?? but truly...i have to turn all of this stuff into a headband fit for pocahontas.</div>
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aiden is pocahontas for the living history museum at school on friday.</div>
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luckily...a friend (thanks, k.r.) let me borrow her daughter's old costume...freeing funds and creative energy for a killer headband and boots.</div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjRN-yh0a9fEfq1emYTaMktYuyrllbpTexLDhOckNBZMA2Px0uYW78XBEWTnV5yM3zx33dAp8e979eLpjYWLI-5VroYpIQPBuvziWb8PzS7EXiDtd5mYCFlrfflcN6YurUsot_d/s1600/1-30-13+outside+and+inside+kids+073.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="263" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjRN-yh0a9fEfq1emYTaMktYuyrllbpTexLDhOckNBZMA2Px0uYW78XBEWTnV5yM3zx33dAp8e979eLpjYWLI-5VroYpIQPBuvziWb8PzS7EXiDtd5mYCFlrfflcN6YurUsot_d/s400/1-30-13+outside+and+inside+kids+073.JPG" width="400" /></a></div>
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i've been needing a reason to purchase these.</div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi_oaQb_76bETeedecuk0oG7ce6owMH48iv3lwzozRoOMWVXNBXUwqVISxjgKw62aAqZOo7nJ1bVblaqsbhyi_hEKvlqAOqfcLqLMsb426c_ro4jseqbNy1MiHUAuCSreJKG8Cr/s1600/1-30-13+outside+and+inside+kids+074.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi_oaQb_76bETeedecuk0oG7ce6owMH48iv3lwzozRoOMWVXNBXUwqVISxjgKw62aAqZOo7nJ1bVblaqsbhyi_hEKvlqAOqfcLqLMsb426c_ro4jseqbNy1MiHUAuCSreJKG8Cr/s400/1-30-13+outside+and+inside+kids+074.JPG" width="263" /></a></div>
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ever since her brothers were jimmy carter and harry houdini for their living history museums in second grade...i've been hoping that aiden would get to be pocahontas when her turn rolled around. i mean...come on. her braids will be perfect. sally ride just doesn't give me anything fashionable to work with.</div>
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she can't wait to get all dressed up. and her speech has been carefully constructed and memorized. so we are all ready and waiting to make peace between our people and the settlers.</div>
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well...i better go plan for our last day of fairy tales in preschool tomorrow. and then bust out a feathered headband.</div>
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not a bad ending to the day. </div>
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here's to beginning to feel better...and vick's vapor rub.</div>
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oh...</div>
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and my new mug filled with peppermint tea and honey.</div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhdXiLHfMOfph2vUf-6-45IQQpgmxn1UDDQ0Ath16bXAfwZOTYkeppj3HEih8vC7hnPM2HufX6fKSs_n355ujFQE5tZMUfgSA0wDmiXrXbAe4gnbi6yhvpWPno9obDTAyqesWBU/s1600/1-30-13+outside+and+inside+kids+075.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhdXiLHfMOfph2vUf-6-45IQQpgmxn1UDDQ0Ath16bXAfwZOTYkeppj3HEih8vC7hnPM2HufX6fKSs_n355ujFQE5tZMUfgSA0wDmiXrXbAe4gnbi6yhvpWPno9obDTAyqesWBU/s400/1-30-13+outside+and+inside+kids+075.JPG" width="263" /></a></div>
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now...if that doesn't put a smile on your face...</div>
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i don't know what will.</div>
m.c.http://www.blogger.com/profile/17328314630793412008noreply@blogger.com0