tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-58593707529849850912024-03-12T18:24:46.814-07:00Apparent TalesThe tales of being a parent, just as they are. Jessicahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08717431018060327948noreply@blogger.comBlogger96125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5859370752984985091.post-49336018256353752942014-04-13T15:13:00.004-07:002014-04-13T15:13:55.795-07:00Double birthday mission <div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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These two baby boys of mine are on a mission to grow faster than any little humans have grown before. </div>
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I'm not sure which is harder to believe that Bash turns 3 years old this week or that Sam's first year is officially complete in less than 24 hours. </div>
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It's becoming obvious that two of them just isn't enough to share the burden of my over-zealous snuggling, squishing and kissing in the months leading up to this pending farewell to little baby-doom. I'm confident if they had the words to express how much they'd like me to give them both just a littlemorespace they wouldn't give pause to my motherly emotional fragility before telling me so. </div>
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And so, coordinating in their silent brotherly ways these two patiently seized the perfect moment to tell me how they've been feeling about my clinginess. </div>
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Saved by his raspy laughter, Bash was immediately released from custody as we all looked to the silent offender for an explanation... </div>
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Who then gazed questioningly in our general direction (but not in my cake covered eye) to make sure I got the message that he did not care for feeding himself messy cake and furthermore, he wanted me to clean him up at once and leave him to crawl, climb or chew into as many troublesome scenarios as he darn well pleased for the remainder of his 1st birthday party. </div>
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By the grace of breast feeding, it wasn't long before he came crawling back (mostly, because he can't walk yet) to my loving general direction.</div>
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"We cool, Milk Supplier?" </div>
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Taking my inch, I eagerly whispered a theme-fitting quote from a <a href="http://www.amazon.com/Love-You-More-Laura-Duksta/dp/1402211260">favorite book</a>, "'I love you louder than the loudest rocket ship ever blasted!' little Sam-shiny "<br />
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Moving on to spread the verbal love with somebaby older enough to play at this game, I found Bash sneaking his 2nd pre-singing birthday cupcake..<br />
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"I am not eating my cake, Mom!" </div>
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Which was true, in addition to our rocket cake we did have an inviting sugar parade of cupcakes, rice krispies stars and planets to be washed down with a chilled box of juice. <br />
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He certainly had not yet touched the cake, but I'll have you notice that the cupcake tray was mysteriously removed from its place next to the rocket ship... </div>
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Caught blue-faced or not I shot him a prefect one liner:</div>
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<i>"Bash, did you know that I love you brighter than the brightest star ever shown?!"</i></div>
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To which he giggled down at his unlikely safe treasure and rasped: <br />
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"I love you to the moon and back, Mom!" </div>
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Moments before we exploded from party fun and sugar consumption, we fired up the cake rocket and sang Happy Birthday to our little Bash-tronaut and Sam-shine. </div>
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Sienna was crushed to observe a finger print out of the rocket cake "she worked so hard on." <br />
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She did work tirelessly filling every moment with idle chatter as I baked and got ready for the party. While my ears were ready for a teeny break, she is such a hard worker and truly becoming a tremendous help to me in many ways. Nonstop listening aside, I couldn't have imagined a better partner in party-making crime than this big sister! She helped me draw, color and design little favor tags to go on the water blasters we gifted the party goers:<br />
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The ladies at Imagination Avenue were even impressed with the pictures she drew of Bash-tronaut and Sam-shine to tape on the party room walls. <br />
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I think her favorite part was helping me build and paint our jet pack and Birthday Mission space ship! </div>
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You may have noticed one of our space rangers was out of orbit and therefore missing from most of these pictures.... </div>
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We couldn't convince Jonah to miss not even one of his beloved soccer games even for his brothers' double birthday bash. So Daddy and Jonah made their party debut halfway through as soon as the game was over. As much as I would've liked all of my boys at the party the entire time I'm not sure there was a sweeter moment than Jonah and Bash running to hug each other when they finally arrived! </div>
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Speaking of hugging, after his purposeful cake sharing, Sam began escaping to the refreshing arms of his <i>ironically, way more affectionate</i> Grandmother!</div>
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And with that, I will end by telling you one last time just how much I love theses little guys and one little gal of mine! Their Dad isn't so bad himself... </div>
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Happy Double Birthdays to the Little Big Brother and the Big Littlest Brother! </div>
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Jessicahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08717431018060327948noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5859370752984985091.post-58505818999414595832014-02-12T13:26:00.001-08:002014-02-12T13:26:32.916-08:00525,600 minutes <div style="text-align: center;">
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="-webkit-border-horizontal-spacing: 2px; -webkit-border-vertical-spacing: 2px; font-family: Verdana; font-size: 15px;">Five Hundred Twenty-Five Thousand </span></div>
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="-webkit-border-horizontal-spacing: 2px; -webkit-border-vertical-spacing: 2px; font-family: Verdana; font-size: 15px;">Six Hundred Minutes</span></div>
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="-webkit-border-horizontal-spacing: 2px; -webkit-border-vertical-spacing: 2px; font-family: Verdana; font-size: 15px;">Five Hundred Twenty-Five Thousand</span></div>
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="-webkit-border-horizontal-spacing: 2px; -webkit-border-vertical-spacing: 2px; font-family: Verdana; font-size: 15px;">Moments So Dear</span></div>
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="-webkit-border-horizontal-spacing: 2px; -webkit-border-vertical-spacing: 2px; font-family: Verdana; font-size: 15px;">Five Hundred Twenty-Five Thousand</span></div>
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="-webkit-border-horizontal-spacing: 2px; -webkit-border-vertical-spacing: 2px; font-family: Verdana; font-size: 15px;">Six Hundred Minutes</span></div>
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="-webkit-border-horizontal-spacing: 2px; -webkit-border-vertical-spacing: 2px; font-family: Verdana; font-size: 15px;"><i>How Do You Measure, Measure A Year?</i></span></div>
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="-webkit-border-horizontal-spacing: 2px; -webkit-border-vertical-spacing: 2px; font-family: Verdana; font-size: 15px;"><b>Measure In Love</b></span><br />
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="-webkit-border-horizontal-spacing: 2px; -webkit-border-vertical-spacing: 2px; font-family: Verdana; font-size: 15px;">Our <i>Seasons Of Love </i>from 2013</span></div>
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Jessicahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08717431018060327948noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5859370752984985091.post-636173911994079132014-01-16T23:37:00.000-08:002014-01-20T07:40:06.465-08:00Your first story and our miracleTo my sweet Sienna,<br>
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<br>Six years ago today was the first time I held your tiny toes in the palm of my hands. These delicate little toes. I starred down a your squishy, perfectly round face. You were the most precious gift of all and you were given directly to us to watch grow for many years to come! Something we worried we'd never get to do and just like that, there you were so real, so strong and so perfect. I'll never for one minute forget what a blessing you are, so on your 6th birthday I want to share your very first story. <br>
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At your 19 week ultrasound we received heart wrenching news that you had indicators of trisomy 18, a chromosomal disorder that is not compatible with life. <br>
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I was alone in Phoenix in a cold, distant ultrasound lab room patiently waiting for the tech to finally finish her never ending 1.5 hour long ultrasound. We weren't going to find out if you were a boy or a girl until I was with Daddy in Oklahoma the following week. But as the tech finally finished her measurements and left the room she returned with two doctors I had never seen before: <br>
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"Mrs. S, we need to tell you a few things about the results of the ultrasound. We are finding indicators of a fairly rare chromosomal disorder called trisomy 18. Our findings include fluid in her coracoid plexi cysts and clinched fists. It's also important for you to know that you are having a girl, which increases your risks by 60%. Here are some print outs about trisomy 18, as you will read it usually leads to stillborn births or mortality within the first 6 weeks of life.... wok, wok, wok, wok, wok..." </div>
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As my mind stopped listening and my heart nearly stopped beating I fought back tears of confusion and anger. I thought back to the waiver I signed at my doctor's office refusing genetic testing and requesting not to be given knowledge of any abnormalities or disabilities. I thought of your daddy who was so far away. <i>How would I tell him this news? They couldn't be right. There was no way, was there? Wait! You're a girl! A girl. We're having a girl!? Daddy was supposed to be here with me to hear this news. It is our news. They stole our news. </i></div>
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"Ma'am. Ma'am! I'm sorry, but we need your attention. Because of your age and this being your first child we recommend that you do not attempt to carry to term. The chances of having a stillborn or late term miscarriage could potentially risk your fertility later on should you choose to try to conceive again. There are things we can do now that would make it less complicated." </div>
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Those words will always burn in my mind. "Leas complicated." "We recommend that you do not carry to term." "Because of your age." <br>
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What do those things even mean?! How can they be said to a mother? <br>
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I knew I had to be brave. I had to be strong. I was alone, but I could do it. I calmly said that an abortion of any kind was out of the question and I wanted to talk to your daddy and do more research before taking their indicators seriously. They pushed and insisted on immediate testing. They repeated their recommendations.<br>
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I stepped out of the room to call your Daddy. And then suddenly I wasn't so brave. I cried and cried. I wanted him there with me. I was afraid to go back in the room. I was afraid to move. I was so afraid to lose you. Scared and unsure I stopped their attacks by at least agreeing to take a blood test if they'd let me keep you. The test only gave us more useless statistics that threatened to rob me of the joy we had feeling you grow in my womb. But it did let me escape that office-prison of pressure and doom.<br>
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Weeks passed and I avoided doctors as much as I could. Daddy refused to believe any of it from the start. He says he knew it would all be ok and that you were ok. But still, we prayed. We asked everyone we knew to pray for our special intention. We begged Him to show us the ultrasound was a mistake by changing doctors and getting new ultrasounds. When the repeat ultrasounds found similar results we maintained they were just paranoid. Looking for things that weren't there. The statistics had to be wrong. How could they really know? But deep down, just in case I begged God for a miracle.<br>
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We decided that I would leave early for my maternity leave so I could go to Oklahoma with Daddy when I was just 32 weeks along. I wanted to start fresh with a new doctor far, far away from mention of trisomy 18. At 33 weeks I visited the doctor who helped bring you into this world. He agreed not to do any more ultrasounds. He said he could assure me my growth seemed normal and you were perfectly positioned for birth. When I asked him to say you didn't have trisomy 18 he couldn't be sure, but he told us of ultrasound misreadings that had been made before. He suggested we remain confident it would all be ok.<br>
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We began to let ourselves believe it would all be ok. And even <i>I</i> began to believe was ok. Daddy insisted he wasn't worried, just as he had never been from the start. We told ourselves the ultrasound was wrong. It was a mistake. The stress I had felt for the last few months subsided. I was with Daddy and together we knew we could handle anything. His confidence melted my worry. <br>
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The day our first Bradley method class was scheduled, almost 5 weeks before we expected your arrival, you picked your birthday. <br>
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As the contractions began and I knew you were on your way, for some reason trisomy 18 was as far from my mind as could possibly be. No one mentioned it. I'd like to think no one thought of it on that special day. And then there you were. Right there in our arms. Absolutely more perfect than we could ever have dreamed. <br>
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For the first time I saw tears roll down your Daddy's cheek. Neither of us said it, but I knew then how hard he worked to be so very brave for his two girls no matter what that day would have brought. <br>
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Daddy was then and will always be my super hero, just like I know he is yours too. <br>
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Happy birthday, Little Love Bug!<br>
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Jessicahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08717431018060327948noreply@blogger.com9tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5859370752984985091.post-67921937104577121182014-01-16T22:36:00.000-08:002014-01-16T22:36:14.658-08:00Wheelin' n dealin'I started this post in November when I thought we were living life in the fast lane, which really only turned out to be the carpool lane during rush hour traffic. These past two months, now these months were the indie 500. <br />
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<span style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; background-color: rgba(255, 255, 255, 0);">And I do believe that it was during the heat of this two month ride that Jonah's personality grew a thousand times a thousand growths. He has always been his very own person. Never susceptible to pressure or persuasion to be anything or anyone different. Steadfast in his likes and dislikes. Most certainly not open to suggestion otherwise from his fashion eye, to his completely unexpectedly healthy meal selections, to the way he views the workings of the world around him. </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: 'Helvetica Neue Light', HelveticaNeue-Light, helvetica, arial, sans-serif;">A few lines from the month Jonah thought he was, in fact, a real vehicle:</span></div>
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<span style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; background-color: rgba(255, 255, 255, 0);">Jonah- Where are we taking our van?<br />Me- We're dropping it off at the mechanic to get looked at.<br />Jonah- Oh is that a doctor for our van?!<br />Me- Yes, it kinda is.<br />Jonah- Oooooh, I think I should probably go too.<br />Me- You need a little tune up, Buddy?<br />Jonah- Yeah, I'm feeling rusty.</span></div>
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Jonah- I can't be really quiet today. I have a super loud engine!<br />
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Jonah- I can't ride (my bike) anymore, I don't have a full tank of water in my belly.</div>
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Jonah- Mom! I said its a green light! That means you can't stop swinging me!</div>
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Jonah- Good morning to you Mom! Today I'm feeling like I'm gonna be a blue bus. </div>
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Jonah- (Crying) Mom, you didn't say what number bus I am today. Do NOT say 4! I am not 4 today. </div>
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Jonah- I'm driving angry today.</div>
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Jonah- Mom, does Sam have a baby engine? </div>
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<i>And just for fun....</i><br />
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"Jonah, what is it going to take for you to listen to Daddy the first time I ask you to do something? -Daddy</div>
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"Uuum, maybe for Jesus's birthday, but maybe not." - Jonah </div>
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Jessicahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08717431018060327948noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5859370752984985091.post-44969735935886997102013-11-13T13:47:00.000-08:002013-11-13T14:49:54.962-08:00Read it to me, Sista! <div style="text-align: center;">
<b>Houston, we have a reader! </b></div>
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We celebrate this milestone by mourning the end of a beloved era as we look ahead toward the horizon of never being able to spell-speak in her presence. <br />
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Our journey to this new frontier has been delayed as long as possible. Sienna was under the impression that she would get to learn how to read as soon as she was old enough to start school. She came home from the first day of preschool dragging her bottom lip because they didn't get to practice any reading. Much to her disappointment there was never time to practice sounding out words during preschool that entire year. <br />
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Her preschool teacher knew Sienna was ready and dying to read, but that wasn't exactly part of the preschool curriculum, she had a full class that year and so she gave me some tips and suggested I work with her at home. On one or 20 occasions (per day) Sienna also suggested I help her work on sounding out words at home too. And we did. As much as possible. Which wasn't much at all....<br />
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As luck would have it, The Girl Who Desperately Wanted To Read's mother never had enough time between changing a thousand diapers, preparing and cleaning up after a thousand snacks and chasing a thousand little brothers around the house to sit down with her and practice reading for her to get very far. <br />
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We did and do read books every single day. We always have and hopefully always will, but when we read we usually read aloud as a family and most toddler members of the family prefer it to be done by someone who had a little more fluency than a pre-reader. <br />
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Hope began to grow for The Girl Who Desperately Wanted To Read when kindergarten started and she realized she would most definitely surely learn to read. And learn she did! Very quickly! Her teacher is like a magical fairy godmother- in fact, the very kind you read about in a good book. With a wave of her wand (so it seemed) our eager reader went from sounding out word after word to really reading in just a few weeks! <br />
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<iframe allowfullscreen='allowfullscreen' webkitallowfullscreen='webkitallowfullscreen' mozallowfullscreen='mozallowfullscreen' width='320' height='266' src='https://www.youtube.com/embed/1KC4B3zEYI0?feature=player_embedded' frameborder='0'></iframe></div>
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Here is a video I took of her reading a new BOB book in September. Just a couple weeks after starting school. <br />
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Now that we've had a few months of practice and a lot more sight words under her belt she's quite the book worm! <br />
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It melts my heart to hear her reading books to her brothers. She even has her inflections in all the right places. I love the way she reads new books with such care. She can't stand to get it wrong. She'll read each line carefully under her breath and then repeats it aloud as if she were reading for a theater audition. <br />
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To my dear Little Reader,<br />
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You worked so hard. You've wanted this for so long. Congratulations, sweetheart! You reached for the moon and became one of the stars. I hope you'll read this little memory one day and know how much we loved riding along the way right by your side as you became a reader. Welcome to the book club!<br />
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Love,<br />
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Your proud mommy </div>
Jessicahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08717431018060327948noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5859370752984985091.post-44778707407109209522013-10-27T16:45:00.001-07:002013-10-28T09:36:33.060-07:00Thank you for giving me a son<br />
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When I think about this day just four years ago I remember myself lying in a hospital bed desperately trying to keep my eyes from twitching shut. I can still feel myself straining to fight away my deep exhaustion to will my mind to focus on the voices all around me. I just had to hang on a few minutes more. I had to process all the feelings of completely overwhelming pure, exploding and blissful love, pride and triumphant accomplishment. <br />
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In that moment after labor most things were fog. Most memories were blurred. But I do remember the hair. The soft, long, perfectly golden blonde hair. When I close my eyes I can still see his tiny features, not smooched like they should've been, just perfectly defined and all mine to love with every fiber of my being. </div>
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I remember my husband fighting the same exhaustion that was threatening to steal us away from this moment. I can still hear him say just above a whisper, "Thank you for giving me a son." </div>
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He denies it. He doesn't remember saying it and insists it's not the type of thing he says. He probably wasn't meaning to say it to me. All of which only tells me how raw and genuine that emotion was for him. <i>Our first son</i>. A tiny version of himself in so many ways. </div>
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: x-small;">(7 weeks) </span></div>
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I wish I could remember what I expected the next few years with Jonah to bring in that very moment in time? I wonder what kind of little boy I thought he would be? I do remember expecting it all to be challenging, but I can now see how naive or maybe better said <i>misplaced</i> my worries were. I prepared myself in all the wrong ways. Even in his journey from my body to this very real world, Jonah taught me everything I never knew I never knew about motherhood and raising children. His devoted love for his mommy, his demanding nature, his passionate (in every way) little personality and even his stubbornness has made me a better mother, taught me compassion, and (admittedly) much needed humility in many ways. </div>
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On his forth birthday I want to give myself a little gift I've been meaning to write for four years. I'd like to tell the very first chapter of his story:</div>
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: x-small;">(17 months) </span></div>
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<i>I was overjoyed to find out we were expecting a baby again. Our arms ached to be filled with another life and I remembered that every day of my pregnancy. The pregnancy went by quickly and fairly seamlessly. Around 32 weeks, as I seem to do with each pregnancy, my body started dilating early. Contractions had come and gone for a few weeks before our son was ready to be born. I hadn't been sleeping much those last few days and we were as busy as could be jumping around from party to carnival to trick or trunk soaking up the fun of Halloween with a toddler finally being old enough to participate. I woke up around 4:00 am on Saturday morning thinking the contractions were getting more regular throughout that night, but our close friends were gathering for a halloween party that afternoon and I had already put together a pregnant mini mouse costume the day before that I was going to wear come hell or broken water. </i></div>
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<i>By the time we arrived to my friend's house I was hiding my secret of early labor with an excited smile. Not ready to cry wolf, I almost skipped over to my favorite spot on her couch and took in the party around me as I happily breathed through each contraction. Another friend suspected my early labor jitters from across the room and nonchalantly made her way to search my face for the confirmation she needed. She sat and talked away. I can't remember what she even talked about, but I remember being so thankful for her company and her melodic voice singing chatter and meaningless observations about the party to keep my mind off the labor. Just keep talking to me. Don't ask me questions. Don't expect me to talk. But don't leave me alone either. </i></div>
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<i>I relaxed into the couch and let my body labor throughout the afternoon and into the evening with my girl friend by my side. Finally, around 7:45 pm I looked up at her and she simply said "5-6 minutes apart." The first acknowledgement that she knew exactly what her cherished role had been all along.</i></div>
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<i>We left for home calling my mom on the way. Senselessly worried about "crying wolf for false labor" I asked my mom to just come over "in case" but "not to hurry or anything." By the time she "hadn't hurried" to get over it was almost 10 pm and I was sure I might have had this baby on the way to the hospital. </i></div>
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<i>(Checking into the hospital (I look so young!))</i></div>
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<i>In pain, slightly giddy and a bit terrified we arrived to the hospital and were quickly checked in. "You are progressing nicely, contractions about 4 minutes apart and already 5-6 cm dilated. Second baby. No problem! I'm placing my bets that you'll have this baby by 2 am easily!" we were assured by all the nurses. </i></div>
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<i>By 1:30 am I was vomiting in pain with contractions 1 minute apart and lasting about the same amount of time. I was ready to be done. We called the nurses back in sure that we were 'in transition' and had to be so close. Still only 6-7 cm dilated... </i></div>
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<i>I was exhausted, dehydrated and had such terrible back labor (contractions you feel in your back instead of your uterus) that I couldn't keep focus and was quickly losing control. My poor husband had worked the grave yard shift the night before and hadn't slept since 2pm on Friday. His body ached from applying counter pressing into my back with all his strength for the last 3 hours. "Would you be ok if I just took a quick break?" he gingerly whispered. He could hardly stand or see straight. Even in all my misery, I felt for him and knew he needed to lay down. I got in a hot shower to try to ease the back pain as he rested for a "minute." </i></div>
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<i>The shower helped. I found my focus. I prayed. I breathed. I focused on relaxing my body so it could send my baby into the world. My contractions slowed a little. 2-3 minutes apart. 1 minute long. </i></div>
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<i>3:45 am. My husband fitfully slept under the window seal as I desperately paged the nurse to see how much closer I was getting. I needed something, anything to encourage me that I was almost done. Still 7 cm.... </i></div>
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<i>She called my doctor at my request as I was getting a little worried, because my contractions remained very close together, but I wasn't dilating past 7 cm. My doctor came in by 4:30 am to check on me and recommended an epidural. I had come so far. I couldn't. I had to do this. She broke my water instead. </i></div>
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<i>4:45 am. With a broken water my contractions roared in intensity. 1 minute apart. 1-1.5 minutes long. I shook in pain. Pleaded for mercy. Was it this intense last time? </i></div>
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<i>7:00 am. Shift change. As a fresh face entered the room I lost my courage. I was done. I was so physically exhausted I could only lay with my head weakly hanging off the bed in between indescribable contractions. Something was not ok. This was not how it felt last time. She introduced herself and checked my cervix once again for her notes. Still only 7 cm... </i></div>
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<i>"Had I felt a lot of back pain? Had I noticed the baby still kicking?" She asked. YES!! and No, I hadn't now that she mentioned it. She felt my belly as I hysterically fought through contractions. In just 10 minutes she could tell what none of the others had noticed in 8 hours. The baby was turned upside down. Each contraction propelled him into my back instead of down the birth canal. Unless we turned him around he wasn't going to be born any time soon. </i></div>
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<i>This is actually fairly common. Most of the time you can get into a few positions during natural child birth to help the baby turn over, but after 17 hours of such intense back labor and very little sleep the night before I couldn't stand. Each time I lifted my head I vomited from pain. Each time I search for my legs to stand on I thought I would collapse to the floor. I was so tired. So very, very tired. </i></div>
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<i>My husband was awake again and gently said "I think we need the epidural. He has to turn around, Jess." I remember looking at his face and sobbing in defeat. Ok. I'll do it. </i></div>
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<i>7:45 am. The young, strapping (and likely handsome) anesthesiologist bounced into the room just like in the movies. I passed in and out through his chipper questioning. Please don't be so happy. Be somber. Be exhausted like we all were. I couldn't speak any more. I couldn't even nod. I used all of my strength to get back up, sit cross legged at the edge of the bed and lean forward as he felt my spine. </i></div>
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<i>8:00 am. "I HAVE TO PUSH" </i></div>
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<i>Without a shadow of doubt, I suddenly had to push. In a determined tone, I didn't just say, I informed everyone in the room that I had to push. He was coming out. THE BABY WAS COMING OUT! "No, no, Jessica. You have to hold still. You are only 7 cm dilated. We are about to put in the catheter. We will check you as soon as he is finished. Please, it is extremely important that you do not move at all." </i></div>
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<i>8:05 am. The epidural needle was out. They laid me flat on my back and shoved pillows along my right side. "THE BABY IS COMING OUT. I NEED TO SIT UP. I'M GONNA PUSH." I was insisting! My doctor walked around and checked my cervix for the 5000th time. "There is the head! She's right! Ok, let's get ready guys! He's coming!" I wanted to cry that I told them so. I wanted to yell. I suddenly wanted to run around the room. I wanted throw the anesthesiologist out the window. </i></div>
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<i>8:10 am. "DO NOT PUSH YET. Babies have to be born slowly. We aren't ready." They kept saying. I wanted to sit up. I wanted to get up. Get the catheter out of my back. Get ready to birth my baby. But I couldn't. Since the epidural had just been inserted I had to stay flat or it would go all to whatever point in my body I put the most weight on (they said). So instead, I pushed my first born son into this world laying flat on my back with my head barely raised inches off the pillow. The first few pushes did most of the work, but as the epidural medication slowly seeped through my legs the purposeful pain started to fade. Was that a big push? Am I doing this right? "Almost there! You can do this, Jess. One more great big push!" I can do this. One more puuuuuuuussssssh. </i></div>
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<i>8:35 am. BORN! </i><i>Daddy swooped our precious gift into his arms and showed me his golden hair. Exhausted tears fell as relief showered over me. </i></div>
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<i>8:36 am. Holding him against my chest made it all worth it and I knew without any hesitation that I would do it all again in a heart beat. </i></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhTlxX4oizKvqyWy5mCowUpHZyHBGpcgVfSg8tdPKULc6j_eYCUvA42sXUQhRkRyP8Nw03Wc-9DGrM26vHRS9OVTMh_CxiUQrGnCjyHNFNqnw_yUjlQjmzZ3IURceGuR4DdP-OjQ8j7XhU/s1600/Jonah+freshly+born.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="480" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhTlxX4oizKvqyWy5mCowUpHZyHBGpcgVfSg8tdPKULc6j_eYCUvA42sXUQhRkRyP8Nw03Wc-9DGrM26vHRS9OVTMh_CxiUQrGnCjyHNFNqnw_yUjlQjmzZ3IURceGuR4DdP-OjQ8j7XhU/s640/Jonah+freshly+born.jpg" width="640" /></a></div>
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(Moments after birth) </div>
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<i>Thank you for giving me a son. </i></div>
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<i>Jonah, I'll always fight for you until I've got nothing left to fight and one swing past. </i></div>
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Happy birthday, My Love. </div>
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(3 days old)</div>
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Jessicahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08717431018060327948noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5859370752984985091.post-31908112916478865762013-10-18T14:38:00.002-07:002013-10-18T14:44:02.455-07:007 Quick Takes Friday Vol 23 All about young love and superheroes <div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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Soooo you may have not noticed, but it's been a while since we've partaken in the Quick Takes Party. We have excuses. We are becoming super heroes and falling into young love. I'll explain....<br />
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<img border="0" height="426" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjPg_RkK9T1P5aipvQS819-MX6u5jwnhgt2xSP2RkTaYOqfr6EwyGNZoEAABTK4zdaF1ah3pvcRwslzo9aDmWIbw3mNAV0XK5y_YtSuRfzbcFJR8KN225_VKsAgKAbLOtwRCp-oxLgY30I/s640/IMG_3805.JPG" width="640" /><br />
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Boy baby sat down next to girl baby. <br />
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Girl baby made the first move for the subtle hand hold. <br />
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Boy boy knew just what to do. <br />
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And then they were betrothed forever more.<br />
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Maybe he wasn't mature enough for his first play date after all. <br />
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Or maybe I shouldn't have thrown a beautiful red head at my little rookie.<br />
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Speaking of Sam. He turned 6 months this week so we went for a little well visit to the doctorski-poo. All I have to say is this is a BIG boy. The blame his <a href="http://apparentales.blogspot.com/2013/02/roid-rage.html">in utero 'roid addiction</a>. I don't usually even pay attention to the percentile infantile competition propaganda, but when they practically extend the bell curve to accommodate the digits I start paying attention. 97th percentile. Ninety-seventh percentile. 1-2-3-4-5-6-7-8-<b>9!</b> His older brother by only and exactly 2 years is a mere 4" and 4lbs larger than he is. <br />
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Bash, you have been warned. Treat this one kindly. <br />
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Except he can't. For our poor frustrated batman kindness and understanding is simply not available. </div>
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His super power climbing abilities have enabled him to escape crib captivity and defy the laws of sleep deprivation for far too many days in a row. </div>
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If I could sum up my week with this one in a single adjective I'd go with "exhausted." And that isn't describing Sebastian. </div>
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Trying to keep a 2 year old superhero in a bed for naps and night time has tired me out beyond repair. We're pulling out all the parenting tools, but this child WILL NOT STAY IN HIS BED! </div>
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I suppose his partner in crime isn't exactly supporting our cause. The other toddler vigilante is thrilled that his superhero partner is out of jail. Together, they enjoy keeping late night watch of their bedroom, jumping from tall objects and helping themselves to a crack of dawn yogurt while wearing ONLY their superhero undies. </div>
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Did I mention that Sebastian isn't potty trained? Add pee pee clean up to my morning routine if I dare sleep lightly enough to miss the early wake up parade. </div>
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My recent week(s) may sound like doom and gloom with a sleep deprived, ornery Bash on the loose, but I've gotta be honest I do kiiiiiinda love listening to the brotherly shenanigans coming from their room at night. They're conversations are hilarious. They really think they're super heroes and to them stopping to sleep is simply not an option with so much adventure to be had. Once they finally both fall asleep it's usually together either on the floor or in Jonah's bed. And while I'm admitting to enjoying my misery, I also have say coming downstairs and seeing Jonah "take care" of his little brother (no matter how much extra work it created for me) melts my heart every time. Allllllmost enough to let the yogurt smears all over the breakfast nook windows and spilled water cups all over the floor seem worth it. Almost. </div>
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Speaking of family bounding and brotherly love the other weekend was the annual Maggie's Place Run. Maggie's Place is a pregnancy crisis center that we support here in town. The big guys do the 10K race while my friend and I walk the 5K with the littles. </div>
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I forgot my camera.... but I did catch a few iphone pics. </div>
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After the races the little ones participate in a "Maggie's Place Kids Dash" that they take adorably seriously. </div>
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Ok, maybe it's just Sienna who takes it so seriously. I mean, look at that action shot. I feel the determination pumping through her veins. The finish line is still about 200 meters away.... Lord, I am sorry I passed along my competitive nature to this poor child of Yours. Please help her use it for good in this world! </div>
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Jonah tried his best and all, but I'm pretty sure his motivation was more related to the ice cream at the finish line. </div>
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Meanwhile, Bash did NOT run, but nevertheless did take hydrating himself very seriously with enough water to fill a dam (and also 3 diapers in 2 hours). </div>
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Lord, I am sorry I dressed my child in orthodic looking velcro reebok shoes that did him no favors in life. Please use the humility I imposed on him for good in this world! <br />
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Thanks for always hosting <a href="http://conversiondiary.com/">Jen!</a><br />
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<br />Jessicahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08717431018060327948noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5859370752984985091.post-54486519892073609432013-09-30T12:18:00.002-07:002013-09-30T12:18:19.966-07:00Interview with a two year old<i>Up and coming conversationalist and nap time procrastinator, Sebastian Thomas is here with us to share all about his life as a toddler. In his trademark raspy voice he ends his thoughtful responses with a question-like emphasis that leaves the listener wondering if he is informing or retorting. Sebastian is known for his one sided dimple, general playfulness and overt preference for his Daddy. Join me in welcoming this young toddler to the bloggy blog scene:</i><br />
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<b>Me- </b>"Can you tell us what your name is?"<br />
<b>Bash-</b> "Uuuum, Bashy?"<br />
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<b>Me-</b> "Can you say Sebastian?"</div>
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<b>Bash-</b> "Uuuuum, Piderman?"</div>
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<b>Me-</b> "How old are you?"</div>
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<b>Bash-</b> "Uuuuuum, good."</div>
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<b>Bash-</b> "Uuuuuum, Bashy?"</div>
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<b>Me- </b>"Are you two?"<br />
<b>Bash-</b> "Uuummmm, I toot."<br />
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<b style="font-weight: normal;"><b>Me-</b> </b>"Where is your belly button?"</div>
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<b style="font-weight: normal;"><b>Bash-</b> (quickly points to belly, pulls shirt back down and rolls over) </b>"Right dere. Don't eat mine riblets!" </div>
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<b>Me-</b> "I won't eat your riblets if you can you can give Mommy kisses?"<br />
<b>Bash-</b> "You kiss mine dimples"<br />
<b>Me-</b> "Can you point to your dimples?"<br />
<b>Bash </b>(points to cheek)<b>-</b> "YOU give kisses"<br />
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<b>Me-</b> "Do you like playing give kisses?"<br />
<b>Bash-</b> "Play 'get you!'"<br />
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<b>Me-</b> "Ooook, you better run or I'm gonna get you and give you kisses!"<br />
<b>Bash- </b>"Weeee who!! Dats pun!! Don't get me!"<br />
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<b>Me-</b> "I got you!! Can we play questions some more before you go nigh night?"<br />
<b>Bash-</b> "Uuuuummmm, no. Not right now. You play trains right dere {points to floor}."<br />
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<b>Me-</b> "Do you like playing trains with Mommy or Daddy?" </div>
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<b>Bash- </b>"Uummmm Daddy. Daddy at work?"</div>
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<b>Me-</b> "Yes, Daddy is at work right now. Where's Enna?"</div>
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<b>Bash-</b> "Uuuummm, at 'skool" </div>
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<b>Me- </b>"That's right! Where is Jonah?"</div>
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<b>Bash- </b>"Uuuuummm, on bus"</div>
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<b>Me-</b> "Where is Baby Sam?"<br />
<b>Bash-</b> "Uuuuummm, Stam's sweeeping upstairs."<br />
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<b>Me-</b> "Who is your best friend? Jonah? Baby Sam?"</div>
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<b>Bash-</b> "Uuuuummm, no, Lelo. Right dere."</div>
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<b>Me-</b> "Where is Bash?"</div>
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<b>Bash-</b> "Uuuuummm, right dere (points to his closet mirror)." </div>
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<b>Me-</b> "What is your favorite snack?"<br />
<b>Bash-</b> "Uuuuuum, Jooonah's 'nack."<br />
<b>Me-</b> "What IS Jonah's snack?"<br />
<b>Bash-</b> "Jonah eat it?"<br />
<b>Me-</b> "Do you just like to eat whatever Jonah is eating?"<br />
<b>Bash-</b> "Yeeeesh."<br />
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<b>Me-</b> "Can you sing the Itsy Bitsy Spider for me?"<br />
<b>Bash-</b> "You ting itsy pider! Me sit on you lap."<br />
<b>Me-</b> "...The itsy bitsy spider climbed up the water spo-"<br />
<b>Bash-</b> "Shhh. NO TING! 'Top! No ting!"<br />
<b>Me-</b> "Can you sing it then?" <br />
<b>Bash-</b> "Uuummmm, you ting it. <i>Nicely.</i>"<br />
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<b>Me-</b> "What is your favorite movie?"<br />
<b>Bash-</b> "I want watch moomie right now. You get moomie right dere! Yet's watch Nee-no!!"<br />
<b>Me- </b> "It's not time to watch a movie right now, I just want to know what movies you like to watch when it's time to."<br />
<b>Bash- </b>"Watch Nee-no!!! Bashy watch Nee-no! Right now."<br />
<b>Me- </b><br />
<b>Bash- </b> "I want watch Nee-no"<br />
<b>Me-</b><br />
<b>Bash- </b>"Neee-no! Neee-no right dere!" <br />
<b>Me- </b> "Sorry Sweetie, we aren't watching shows right now. You have to go take your nappies first."<br />
<b>Bash- </b> "You go take mine nappies."<br />
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<br />Jessicahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08717431018060327948noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5859370752984985091.post-82357387214745362862013-09-25T13:53:00.000-07:002013-09-25T13:53:19.565-07:00Burnt out like stale toast I want to say I have no good excuse to be feeling a wee bit brunt out lately, but I actually do have a few excuses I could toss out there if you're really pushing me to hear them... <br />
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<ol>
<li>The other responsible adult in this household has been working hours longer than a never ending road this entire month of September. </li>
<li>We're suffering post vacation excitement withdrawals times six (Yes, even Sam has them. Yesterday he let me know he really misses being held by people all day long). </li>
<li>I have 4 children all 5 and under. </li>
<li>Three of them (Yes, even Sam) are extremely active boys. </li>
<li>The other child who is generally agreeable, thoughtful, likes napping and stays in one place long enough to photograph is perpetually over tired from being in all day kindergarten and is no longer any of the things I previously mentioned. </li>
<li>I realized I don't really enjoy two year olds, they're too moody, demanding and simply won't listen to reason (or anything I say for that matter). </li>
<li>Now that I'm not pregnant I'm back to being lactose intolerant, which means I have no where worthy to turn to when I feel like eating my stress away. </li>
<li>I've still been eating my stress away and now my tummy hurts all the time and I look 6 months pregnant by the end of the day. </li>
<li>I can't locate my living room under the waiting-to-never-get-folded laundry pile up from our trip, several nights of diaper removing and the 4 daily clothing changes from Drulio Down by the School Yard. </li>
<li>One or more of my Prince Charmings keeps leaving me love notes scribbled onto expensive objects around our house and popping the keys off my work computer.</li>
</ol>
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None of this is actually new. It's all in the job description in one form or another, but I haven't had a day off in far too long and while the benefits are pretty good in this role, the pay is lousy and the health hazards take a toll. In fact, since my first day I've notice my hair is falling out in clumps, I have lines on my face that aren't going away and people avoid me in public places like I have leprosy. <br />
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Most days I shrug it all off the overburdened shoulders and focus on my sincere gratitude for the gift of motherhood (because it is there even on days like today). But every once in a while when I go to scream into my pillow and it's covered with pen scribbles I think I just might explode. <br />
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But I don't. And instead I just pray with a thousand pretty pleases that my husband does not have to work late again tonight.<br />
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And then thank the Good Lord for things like <a href="http://thehonesttoddler.com/im-sorry/">The Honest Toddler</a> to ease the pain and put a smile back on my face for when real adults are around to talk to again:<br />
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"Anyway I wanted to thank you for changing my pajamas and throwing that towel down on my pee pee sheets. I noticed you didn’t open your eyes once (weird). It’s also OK that you didn’t actually change my sheets. I find the faint smell of ammonia comforting. Love means doing things halfway."Jessicahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08717431018060327948noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5859370752984985091.post-28645472839276089292013-09-21T14:17:00.001-07:002013-09-21T14:21:36.248-07:00What type of breast feeder do you have? <div style="margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px;">
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As a mother of four with more than 5 years of breastfeeding experience I've characterized the top 15 most common types of breast feeders. </div>
<ol>
<li><b><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-weight: normal;"><b>The motor boater</b></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-weight: normal;"> </span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-weight: normal;"> /n/ small suckling that periodically buries, wipes, blows or nuzzles his or hear head into the mother's bosom while nursing. </span></b></li>
<li><b><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-weight: normal;"><b>The slapper </b></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-weight: normal;">/n/ small suckling that repeatedly slaps one breast while nursing from the other. </span></b></li>
<li><b>The pincher</b> /n/ small suckling that pinches, pokes or digs his or her nails into the mother's tender skin while nursing.</li>
<li><b>The puller</b> /n/ small suckling that retains the mother's nipple in mouth while pulling back with brute force. </li>
<li><b>The head turner </b> /n/ small suckling that retains the mother's nipple in mouth while dramatically turning to look about his or her surroundings. </li>
<li><b>The angry boxer </b>/n/ aggressive suckling that periodically punches and hits at the mother's chest while nursing.</li>
<li><b>The super soaker </b>/n/ small suckling who likes to grab the mother's lactating nipple during a feeding so that it will spray milk across the room. </li>
<li><b>The kicker</b> /n/ excited suckling that forcefully kicks and twists the torso and legs while nursing. </li>
<li><b>The snacker</b> /n/ small suckling who nurses in short enough increments to prolong and extend painful let downs.</li>
<li><b>The straw slurper</b> /n/ small suckling whose latch resembles a grown human sucking a thick milkshake from a straw. </li>
<li><b>The talker </b>/n/ small suckling who likes to talk and smile while nursing so that the mother's milk may drip and escape from his or her mouth. </li>
<li><b>The hair dresser</b> /n/ small suckling who pulls out strands, clumps or sections of his or her mother's hair while nursing. </li>
<li><b>The all nighter</b> /n/ small suckling who prefers nursing any time the mother should be sleeping. </li>
<li><b>The sleeper</b> /n/ small suckling who frequently falls asleep while nursing and can often be caught moving his or her pursed lips while dreaming of nursing. </li>
<li><b>The lover</b> /n/ small suckling that gazes in awe and wonder at his or her mother's beloved face while nursing. </li>
</ol>
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*Babies have been known to change and/or combine breastfeeding type over the duration of his or her nursing lifetime. <br />
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**New techniques and styles are being created constantly to challenge the already more difficult than you probably realized process of breastfeeding your newborn. <br />
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If you have experienced a style not represented above, please let me know! Jessicahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08717431018060327948noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5859370752984985091.post-39711031892829404962013-09-20T16:06:00.001-07:002013-09-20T16:13:55.847-07:007 Quick Takes Friday Vol 22<b>--1--</b><br>
These better be legitimate quick takes this week, so I'm a gonna time myself. Ready, set, GO!<br>
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<b>--2--</b><br>
We got back super late Monday night from my <a href="http://apparentales.blogspot.com/2013/09/froggy-went-courtin.html">sister's wedding </a>in Wyoming so exhausted from the truly epic journey traveling back that I was sure all of my kids would sleep in Tuesday morning. By 7:00 am all 4 weary travelers were up and ready to play with their toys that they missed like the dessert misses the rain. The night before I had decided to keep them home from school an extra day so they could <strike>sleep in</strike> apparently just to play with their estranged toys. "Oh well" was my original thought, but much to my pride by 9:30, both kids had asked if they could go to school now. Jonah said he missed riding his bus. Sienna said she missed her friends and didn't want them to do show and tell without her because she had so much to tell about. So I kicked my dark circled babies out the door and off to school with only a few hours of sleep. I have to say it did pay off later that night when everyone was asleep 45 minutes early and to my knowledge they held it together during school. <br>
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<b>--3--</b><br>
I think I have post-vacay depression. Actually, it's worse than that. It was a vacation and my sister's wedding. Two majorly anticipated, over-planned and hyped up events that came and went almost just as fast as my own wedding! Every day since getting home it's been the same sad scene: <br>
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I've woken up and it's still hot out. <br>
There aren't any wild horses eating grass outside my window. <br>
I'm not living in a cozy log cabin at the foot of a mountain. <br>
And most depressingly of all nobody, not one kind person has offered to make me whatever I wanted for breakfast. <br>
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<b>--4--</b><br>
There were definitely less romantic sides to the trip. Like me trying to haul my 4 children and all of our excessive baggage through three different airports, two different shuttles and two different vehicles without my husband all in one day. I was stressed out just thinking of it for weeks before we left. By the grace of God and for their own longevity in this world, all four of the kids really had excellent behavior. There were no melt downs. Relatively conveniently timed potty trips. They all stayed close to the stroller at all times and were generally content sitting quietly waiting at all the stops (not without plug in to various iNanny devices of course, but hey, whatever works works for me!). I think they were so excited to be going on such a big trip, they didn't dare test any potential "we are going straight back home" threats. <br>
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<br>
<b>--5--</b><br>
#4 made their behavior seem self-imposed... so to set that all straight, the fine workings of the gigantic family traveling without Daddy machine would not have ran so smoothy without a substitute engineer. And so... I would like to dedicate an entire Take thanking my baby brother (who is an actual engineer) (and who doesn't read this blog) for all his help on the trip! You entertained my wildest of the wilds. You kept an extra eye on the stragglers. You were firm, yet fun.<br>
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You were the best uncle ever! Emphasis on the UNCLE for the two different people who assumed he was my husband. He, being my baby brother who is only 22 and looks a half birthday above 18. Not only did he provide me with treasured camaraderie, but also was almost as good as having daddy with us whenever he was around. <br>
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Thanks for the help Brudder! <br>
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<b>--6--</b><br>
Sienna also found her treasured camaraderie on the trip. My new brother-in-law has a niece Sienna's age who was also a flower girl and a fast best friend! <br>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjZ__OnLawDcUEzaFX4Js1po9DYiCkHzdiZSiHMwzNFyf0lB8q44sYQ1aP_xVozYcsGp_bLKX03m5nq33LmvKT00cYaaC6S7g5EW3A3KfwSVbpZ5d7rMSiSAX8qL8dFJVPm-f49x362iAc/s1600/IMG_3742.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="426" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjZ__OnLawDcUEzaFX4Js1po9DYiCkHzdiZSiHMwzNFyf0lB8q44sYQ1aP_xVozYcsGp_bLKX03m5nq33LmvKT00cYaaC6S7g5EW3A3KfwSVbpZ5d7rMSiSAX8qL8dFJVPm-f49x362iAc/s640/IMG_3742.JPG" width="640"></a></div>
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These two were adorable beyond words throwing the flowers down the isle. We all forgot about flower girl baskets, so we had to scramble for one for them to share at the last minute. I think that actually turned out even cuter. They giggled and clung to each other the entire walk to the front. I don't think there was a smileless face in the crowd watching them not just toss, but literally chuck bunches of petals at people as they walked by. Sorry for the blurry picture, but it was all I could find. Hopefully someone caught it on video and I'll share it later. <br>
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<b>--7--</b><br>
Well shoot, that wasn't fast at all. I'm terrible at the Quick part of this game.... How about I just dump some of my random favorite iphone pics on you as a quick wrap up? <br>
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Happy baby</div>
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Happy Bash</div>
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Happy Jonah Vader</div>
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Happy Sienna </div>
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We found me a younger model, just in case! </div>
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How life was meant to be....</div>
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Realities of sharing one hotel for a family of 6</div>
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Realities of entertaining a two year old on an airplane...</div>
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Head on over to <a href="http://www.conversiondiary.com/">Jen</a>!<br>
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Jessicahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08717431018060327948noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5859370752984985091.post-87307266105693221572013-09-19T16:12:00.001-07:002013-09-20T14:09:23.326-07:00Froggy went a courtin' <div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Helvetica Neue', Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Froggy went a courtin' and he did ride</span></div>
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Helvetica Neue', Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">with a sword a pistol by his side <i>(all the right moves)</i></span></div>
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Helvetica Neue', Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">uh, huh, uh, huh, uh, huh</span></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhyl4WWEK7YWcGHGUd7G9wY-EphCgefYBDxqRtNfQeKH92zNYen2y4J7SjcXWhyOtu8ZL1OML47KJj0bnHBnTGZ47xWodJvCaE1p-lFEyvswTqZWSK4w2YMLjPfX0n2ilQX4UUVUrRUcDk/s1600/seattle_engagement_photographer-dyess_005.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Helvetica Neue', Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><img border="0" height="426" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhyl4WWEK7YWcGHGUd7G9wY-EphCgefYBDxqRtNfQeKH92zNYen2y4J7SjcXWhyOtu8ZL1OML47KJj0bnHBnTGZ47xWodJvCaE1p-lFEyvswTqZWSK4w2YMLjPfX0n2ilQX4UUVUrRUcDk/s640/seattle_engagement_photographer-dyess_005.jpg" width="640" /></span></a></div>
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Helvetica Neue', Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: xx-small;"><a href="http://www.amygalbraithphotography.blogspot.com/">(source)</a></span></div>
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Helvetica Neue', Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">He rode right up to Miss Mousey's door, uh, huh</span></div>
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Helvetica Neue', Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">He rode right up to Miss Mousey's door, uh, huh</span></div>
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Helvetica Neue', Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">He rode right up to Miss Mousey's door</span></div>
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Helvetica Neue', Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">gave three loud raps and very big roar <i>(which were actually from their adorable dogs)</i></span></div>
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Helvetica Neue', Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">uh, huh, uh, huh, uh, huh</span></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjJw2LhVykc39fOiL1_lQ-7-uE7V9rKVZAcMsgCRy_efCuko1Larz6fVcrpBN6uYkFFL6-PRh1qwxNMsX1gKH7A3pRW7Q04IFiMoWYsLQLPx0M3FRWh6Xc-JauDIDEEykoc2FSuULb8o7I/s1600/dogs.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Helvetica Neue', Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><img border="0" height="426" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjJw2LhVykc39fOiL1_lQ-7-uE7V9rKVZAcMsgCRy_efCuko1Larz6fVcrpBN6uYkFFL6-PRh1qwxNMsX1gKH7A3pRW7Q04IFiMoWYsLQLPx0M3FRWh6Xc-JauDIDEEykoc2FSuULb8o7I/s640/dogs.jpg" width="640" /></span></a></div>
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: xx-small;"><a href="http://www.amygalbraithphotography.blogspot.com/"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Helvetica Neue', Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">(source)</span></a></span></div>
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Helvetica Neue', Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; line-height: 16px;">Said, "Miss Mouse, are you within?", uh, huh</span></div>
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Helvetica Neue', Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; line-height: 16px;">Said he, "Miss Mouse, are you within?", uh, huh</span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Helvetica Neue', Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; line-height: 16px;">Said, "Miss Mouse, are you within?"</span></div>
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Helvetica Neue', Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; line-height: 16px;">"Yes, kind sir, I sit and spin" <i>(He was taking too long to purpose)</i></span></div>
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Helvetica Neue', Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">uh, huh, uh, huh, uh, huh</span></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiMiAMXLRe4h-YF7F7s_QrYrjFTsHOeawEzQsNgmQwfioQ686mJOWl76_A8ru5HmPHr3UyDLItT4fRKfKxqmulVqanSdE4pe38A6JE_vky2N5XIVvMSRFOC2P7Zve1CchajNbXNq5aqTCY/s1600/shadow.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Helvetica Neue', Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><img border="0" height="426" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiMiAMXLRe4h-YF7F7s_QrYrjFTsHOeawEzQsNgmQwfioQ686mJOWl76_A8ru5HmPHr3UyDLItT4fRKfKxqmulVqanSdE4pe38A6JE_vky2N5XIVvMSRFOC2P7Zve1CchajNbXNq5aqTCY/s640/shadow.jpg" width="640" /></span></a></div>
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: xx-small;"><a href="http://www.amygalbraithphotography.blogspot.com/"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Helvetica Neue', Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">(source)</span></a></span></div>
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Helvetica Neue', Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; line-height: 16px;">He took Miss Mousey on his knee <i>(grabbed her in his arms, because knee is weird)</i>, uh, huh</span></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Helvetica Neue', Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; line-height: 16px;">Took Miss Mousey on his knee, uh, huh </span></div>
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<span style="box-sizing: border-box;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Helvetica Neue', Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; line-height: 16px;">Took Miss Mousey on his knee, uh, huh</span></span></div>
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<span style="box-sizing: border-box;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Helvetica Neue', Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; line-height: 16px;">Said, "Miss Mousey, will you marry me?" <i>(WAHOO!)</i></span></span></div>
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Helvetica Neue', Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">uh, huh, uh, huh, uh, huh</span></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgnO7EsZMotbiYGZM-vOcHIAu9W4O5x22e0irn3RQ4SnM6yVAG-RlNsrz0j7r0IN127nUVyMsREyzma5N1Fuy4j8EZSCKC1tU6FnPplo55FVOW56Jw5HCJDtSjP9ImcS6QsGlTsqIgQA6A/s1600/lake.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Helvetica Neue', Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><img border="0" height="426" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgnO7EsZMotbiYGZM-vOcHIAu9W4O5x22e0irn3RQ4SnM6yVAG-RlNsrz0j7r0IN127nUVyMsREyzma5N1Fuy4j8EZSCKC1tU6FnPplo55FVOW56Jw5HCJDtSjP9ImcS6QsGlTsqIgQA6A/s640/lake.jpg" width="640" /></span></a></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Helvetica Neue', Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="line-height: 16px;"></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: xx-small;"><a href="http://www.amygalbraithphotography.blogspot.com/">(source)</a></span></span></div>
<div class="verse" style="box-sizing: border-box;">
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Helvetica Neue', Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="line-height: 16px;"><br /></span>
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="line-height: 16px;">Without my uncle Rat's consent <i>(I'm Uncle Rat, or so I like to think)</i>, uh, huh</span></span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Helvetica Neue', Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; line-height: 16px;">Without my uncle Rat's consent, uh, huh</span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Helvetica Neue', Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; line-height: 16px;">Without my uncle Rat's consent</span></div>
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Helvetica Neue', Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="line-height: 16px;">
</span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="line-height: 16px;">I wouldn't marry the President</span></span><br />
<div>
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Helvetica Neue', Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">uh, huh, uh, huh, uh, huh</span></div>
<div>
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Helvetica Neue', Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="line-height: 16px;"><br /></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="line-height: 16px;"></span></span></div>
<div class="verse" style="box-sizing: border-box;">
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Helvetica Neue', Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Uncle Rat laughed and he shook his fat sides <i>(Sadly, this is still true to the analogy)</i>, uh, huh<br style="box-sizing: border-box;" />Uncle Rat laughed and he shook his fat sides, uh, huh<br style="box-sizing: border-box;" />Uncle Rat laughed and he shook his fat sides</span></div>
<div class="verse" style="box-sizing: border-box;">
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Helvetica Neue', Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">To think <strike>his niece </strike>her sister would be a bride</span></div>
<div class="verse" style="box-sizing: border-box;">
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Helvetica Neue', Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">uh, huh, uh, huh, uh, huh</span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Helvetica Neue', Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><br /></span></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgUQksW1RrpZMUtyqNseXE66Em1zXEyuv48BSXEE838CPf75QPt9a0gBdA3vDjUm1SN81mzjx_2NcCmIb0TRosnrCtBwASbwCXrF-iZuuzB6iw4F3EnHsuMPgYAHzCehfL9G4v2HX3Jsyc/s1600/IMG_1324.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Helvetica Neue', Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><img border="0" height="426" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgUQksW1RrpZMUtyqNseXE66Em1zXEyuv48BSXEE838CPf75QPt9a0gBdA3vDjUm1SN81mzjx_2NcCmIb0TRosnrCtBwASbwCXrF-iZuuzB6iw4F3EnHsuMPgYAHzCehfL9G4v2HX3Jsyc/s640/IMG_1324.JPG" width="640" /></span></a></div>
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Helvetica Neue', Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><br /></span></div>
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Helvetica Neue', Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Uncle Rat went a runnin' to downtown, uh, huh</span></div>
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<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Helvetica Neue', Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Uncle Rat went a runnin' to downtown, uh, huh</span></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Helvetica Neue', Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Uncle Rat went a runnin' to downtown</span></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Helvetica Neue', Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">To buy his niece a wedding gown <i>(she bought her own gown, 3 of them to be exact!)</i></span></div>
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Helvetica Neue', Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><br /></span>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhBWaLj0u-LQ4u4IU-hyaclVNq7ABAIPUg2BWjp-XSgah8A1MnNO87UbGyrm4lvPCniFMN8ZNAl0o8l93k5F_5zsLjjaC1mtrTAitgE6_SMUwsInGekZ8SZPea39ojylIVe2rTVMokPQwQ/s1600/dress.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Helvetica Neue', Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><img border="0" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhBWaLj0u-LQ4u4IU-hyaclVNq7ABAIPUg2BWjp-XSgah8A1MnNO87UbGyrm4lvPCniFMN8ZNAl0o8l93k5F_5zsLjjaC1mtrTAitgE6_SMUwsInGekZ8SZPea39ojylIVe2rTVMokPQwQ/s640/dress.jpg" width="640" /></span></a></div>
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Helvetica Neue', Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><span style="box-sizing: border-box;"><br style="box-sizing: border-box;" /></span><span class="Apple-style-span"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="line-height: 16px;">Where shall the wedding supper be? </span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="line-height: 16px;">uh, huh</span></span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Helvetica Neue', Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><span style="box-sizing: border-box;"></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="line-height: 16px;">Where shall the wedding supper be? uh, huh</span></span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Helvetica Neue', Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; line-height: 16px;">Where shall the wedding supper be?</span></span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Helvetica Neue', Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="line-height: 16px;">Way down yonder in a hollow tree</span><span style="box-sizing: border-box;"></span></span><br />
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<span style="box-sizing: border-box; font-family: 'Helvetica Neue', Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">uh, huh, uh, huh, uh, huh</span></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj3WWrowbOAkBRaXVpcURFlKtqyNi0cIuGRE0u7uClXIRdOJ4Jr5socYeA2BMG27TLovvUmesWbckIgwFAOzj0Z_0fcQ5XZXy2Z0jZL_V4D2gOlsbAgNacYMHPYeKPgzUneyOP4vrq0jJk/s1600/jackson_hole_wedding_photographer-dyess-preview-blog.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Helvetica Neue', Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><img border="0" height="426" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj3WWrowbOAkBRaXVpcURFlKtqyNi0cIuGRE0u7uClXIRdOJ4Jr5socYeA2BMG27TLovvUmesWbckIgwFAOzj0Z_0fcQ5XZXy2Z0jZL_V4D2gOlsbAgNacYMHPYeKPgzUneyOP4vrq0jJk/s640/jackson_hole_wedding_photographer-dyess-preview-blog.jpg" width="640" /></span></a></div>
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: xx-small;"><a href="http://www.amygalbraithphotography.blogspot.com/"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Helvetica Neue', Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">(source)</span></a></span></div>
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Helvetica Neue', Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><br /></span></div>
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Helvetica Neue', Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; line-height: 16px;">What kind of weather did we see? Uh, huh.</span></div>
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Helvetica Neue', Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; line-height: 16px;">What kind of weather did we see? Uh, huh.</span></div>
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Helvetica Neue', Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; line-height: 16px;">What kind of weather did we see?</span></div>
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Helvetica Neue', Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; line-height: 16px;">Pourin' rain and a little freeze</span></div>
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Helvetica Neue', Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="line-height: 16px;">uh, huh, uh, huh, uh, huh</span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="line-height: 16px;"> </span></span></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiz1w1aMWYsNuI5rZgXglonhDvMJjkY5tAnp7l6NaGRP1rusfpdC8QzWXJNBFETCzenjENNMSehQYwRD_ZliNuKYWPV4uEiu8H8wkqWxu0-vTV9Kec79GPjOjwrzeBAMYhkI72vfZF-i2g/s1600/IMG_3744.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Helvetica Neue', Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><img border="0" height="426" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiz1w1aMWYsNuI5rZgXglonhDvMJjkY5tAnp7l6NaGRP1rusfpdC8QzWXJNBFETCzenjENNMSehQYwRD_ZliNuKYWPV4uEiu8H8wkqWxu0-vTV9Kec79GPjOjwrzeBAMYhkI72vfZF-i2g/s640/IMG_3744.JPG" width="640" /></span></a></div>
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Helvetica Neue', Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><br /></span>
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Helvetica Neue', Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">We said ain't no rain gonna bother me! uh, huh</span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Helvetica Neue', Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">We said ain't no rain gonna bother me! uh, huh</span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Helvetica Neue', Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">We said ain't no rain gonna bother me</span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Helvetica Neue', Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">And sent two little neices tossing some leaves</span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Helvetica Neue', Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">uh, huh, uh, huh, uh, huh</span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Helvetica Neue', Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><br /></span>
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg8dNLM2WTRS5kPg0EIEJSJlbLOhwSiw0iKL_6MkIPRhBF-51ZXIRsGuh4EVOJepElm_tUufa91vv9JJuHqv8rDA29gYzjN5_Ulsarhw5e4Rn1cwQhqjb9XCTmSbL9LLDzVoLUPRTzuXcQ/s1600/IMG_3731.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Helvetica Neue', Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><img border="0" height="426" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg8dNLM2WTRS5kPg0EIEJSJlbLOhwSiw0iKL_6MkIPRhBF-51ZXIRsGuh4EVOJepElm_tUufa91vv9JJuHqv8rDA29gYzjN5_Ulsarhw5e4Rn1cwQhqjb9XCTmSbL9LLDzVoLUPRTzuXcQ/s640/IMG_3731.JPG" width="640" /></span></a><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Helvetica Neue', Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><br /></span>
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Helvetica Neue', Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">We were all warm cause boots had we, uh, huh</span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Helvetica Neue', Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">We were all warm cause boots had we, uh, huh</span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Helvetica Neue', Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">We were all warm cause boots had we</span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Helvetica Neue', Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">like the cowboys we pretend to be</span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Helvetica Neue', Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">uh, huh, uh, huh, uh, huh</span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Helvetica Neue', Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><br /></span>
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhQctAwVFNL3HGAaNIhgcyzzhn3lIEzIbcbc4Gkq15uwODRQWUgOqqaPcclvD4nGNJYdtWkKOWbNAJF2H6LeOrgUywM_RHEBdzk9BYiC93hnMaLWo0KmWUltfQSbusUTTa6WEnI2EYxORY/s1600/IMG_3756.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Helvetica Neue', Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><img border="0" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhQctAwVFNL3HGAaNIhgcyzzhn3lIEzIbcbc4Gkq15uwODRQWUgOqqaPcclvD4nGNJYdtWkKOWbNAJF2H6LeOrgUywM_RHEBdzk9BYiC93hnMaLWo0KmWUltfQSbusUTTa6WEnI2EYxORY/s640/IMG_3756.jpg" width="496" /></span></a></div>
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Helvetica Neue', Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><br /></span></div>
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Helvetica Neue', Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">First weddin' kiss was stole by me, uh, huh</span></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Helvetica Neue', Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">First weddin' kiss was stole by me, uh, huh</span></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Helvetica Neue', Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">First weddin' kiss was stole by me</span></div>
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Helvetica Neue', Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">'cuz I can't resist my man in a vest </span></div>
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Helvetica Neue', Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">uh, huh, uh, huh, uh, huh</span></div>
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Helvetica Neue', Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><br /></span></div>
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Helvetica Neue', Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><br /></span>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhNbIrd-FjSr2J6vN1JIDzVkI3PEfSv3Pe8q8ljRzJj1vxkUM_HspYndS5-kGjZTnfaTaMXbPYPzp_YsO2K6eIaiF_SqwGT74pqJQ-SBIgs448h6QCORFu7CwFWz6UaC_MSUtCv3sI5xOE/s1600/IMG_3738.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Helvetica Neue', Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><img border="0" height="426" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhNbIrd-FjSr2J6vN1JIDzVkI3PEfSv3Pe8q8ljRzJj1vxkUM_HspYndS5-kGjZTnfaTaMXbPYPzp_YsO2K6eIaiF_SqwGT74pqJQ-SBIgs448h6QCORFu7CwFWz6UaC_MSUtCv3sI5xOE/s640/IMG_3738.JPG" width="640" /></span></a></div>
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Helvetica Neue', Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><br /></span>
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Helvetica Neue', Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Now after that weddin' a toast we need, uh huh</span></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Helvetica Neue', Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Now after that weddin' a toast we need, uh, huh</span></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Helvetica Neue', Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Now after that weddin' a toast we need</span></div>
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Helvetica Neue', Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">With some beer and flutes and a trusty steed </span></div>
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Helvetica Neue', Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">uh, huh, uh, huh, uh, huh</span></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjxSAW6tMSrCLQoJ_SyZWi8ML03nZDO5dEYe-3-FqTbktSnHVnzGRXf00Yy2dE61fCYAYl68YflMyM_Ernbvnma_ZcDcC2JkkBUG5mMSZ23rYmrzI9wWzMjWYVMWwVkeEAbpeYN0O23RW0/s1600/beer+toast.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Helvetica Neue', Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><img border="0" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjxSAW6tMSrCLQoJ_SyZWi8ML03nZDO5dEYe-3-FqTbktSnHVnzGRXf00Yy2dE61fCYAYl68YflMyM_Ernbvnma_ZcDcC2JkkBUG5mMSZ23rYmrzI9wWzMjWYVMWwVkeEAbpeYN0O23RW0/s640/beer+toast.jpg" width="480" /></span></a></div>
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Helvetica Neue', Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">With some liquid courage we were ready to dance, uh, huh</span></div>
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Helvetica Neue', Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">With some liquid courage we were ready to dance, uh, huh</span></div>
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Helvetica Neue', Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">With some liquid courage we were ready to dance</span></div>
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Helvetica Neue', Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">So they started us off with sweet romance </span></div>
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Helvetica Neue', Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">uh, huh, uh, huh, uh, huh </span></div>
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Helvetica Neue', Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Next for a spin was the bride and dad, uh, huh</span><br />
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Helvetica Neue', Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Next for a spin was the bride and dad, uh, huh</span></div>
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Helvetica Neue', Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Next for a spin was the bride and dad</span></div>
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Helvetica Neue', Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">They planned something too, and boy we're glad!</span></div>
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Helvetica Neue', Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">The very next day we went for a ride, uh, huh</span></div>
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Helvetica Neue', Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">The very next day we went for a ride, uh, huh</span></div>
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Helvetica Neue', Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">The very next day we went for a ride</span></div>
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Helvetica Neue', Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Some of us wearing our naked rawhides </span></div>
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Helvetica Neue', Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">uh, huh, uh, huh, uh, huh</span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Helvetica Neue', Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><br /></span></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhnnwMAw_PvwX-bopdRYkKQNm-5SMe5j4DdvghTAHzBuyvw4R-Wyv9phSotPkfklldr1DrvFPAXlso7krIY6aXq3z7ZcuvlFUvYKpTGoBzJZG1U7O3MTT4o1GqAabh0B-q_jhkY4FwlJV8/s1600/bash+in+boots.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhnnwMAw_PvwX-bopdRYkKQNm-5SMe5j4DdvghTAHzBuyvw4R-Wyv9phSotPkfklldr1DrvFPAXlso7krIY6aXq3z7ZcuvlFUvYKpTGoBzJZG1U7O3MTT4o1GqAabh0B-q_jhkY4FwlJV8/s640/bash+in+boots.jpg" width="426" /></a></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhsLxdMO4aklRfb8b9OljBTmr__tMN-sKBV93mujEvpMNPA_MRnEJwWUHE8MgM_24ZJjADerxO_KkvW_IzfafjjDGPpoLsCeMMsa9p0LyYOWac8MikLtD_yk_wctpi5igmHMph-aes4DZw/s1600/IMG_3758.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Helvetica Neue', Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"></span></a> </div>
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Helvetica Neue', Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: x-small;">(I took this picture, so please ask first and give me credit if you use it)</span></span></div>
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Helvetica Neue', Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Welcome Uncle Froggy we love you so, uh, huh</span></div>
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Helvetica Neue', Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Welcome Uncle Froggy we love you so, uh, huh</span></div>
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Helvetica Neue', Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Welcome Uncle Froggy we love you so</span></div>
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Helvetica Neue', Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">I'm sure you'll make a fine new bro</span></div>
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Helvetica Neue', Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">uh, huh, uh, huh, uh, huh</span></div>
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Helvetica Neue', Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">We wish the very best to my baby sister and her forever man! May the blessings flow to you like the rain on your perfect day! </span></div>
Jessicahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08717431018060327948noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5859370752984985091.post-26092900539728053482013-09-06T15:15:00.000-07:002013-09-06T15:15:47.232-07:007 Quick Takes Vol 21<br />
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I'm back... I feel like this 7 Quick Takes needs a slow motion run to go with it.... it's been so long since I've joined <a href="http://conversiondiary.com/">Jen</a>! </div>
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<b>--1--</b></div>
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I'm not the same mother I was when I last joined in the 7QTFs. I have since seen things that can never been unseen. I have learned things that can never been unlearned. I have felt things that can never be unfelt. I have been home alone all calm and relaxing morning long with two easy going, mostly quiet babies who take early naps. </div>
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It's been every bit as glorious as that sounds! </div>
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But the flip side is when I've got a full team at home, I'm too out of shape to play ball (and they know it....) </div>
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But, like everything, out of sight, out of mind, so instead of worrying about the chaos awaiting me at 2:45 every day I'm just blissfully enjoying my slow time and soaking up every second I can with this rapidly growing little love and his still young enough to be adorably naughty big brother.</div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgoB8dk4EzHQ5VIahNUvOnp9ocng17K9KXWmR4qvIkEdrrCOMcd6MvtPC-_z22dNf4BS9gso8Kh6h5XTxaqV9pIbAdcM8xOs_souQTQglJcGb4bTgalXX62jAxsgr9j4LsZfhpr5FKZyzQ/s1600/IMG_3290.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="426" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgoB8dk4EzHQ5VIahNUvOnp9ocng17K9KXWmR4qvIkEdrrCOMcd6MvtPC-_z22dNf4BS9gso8Kh6h5XTxaqV9pIbAdcM8xOs_souQTQglJcGb4bTgalXX62jAxsgr9j4LsZfhpr5FKZyzQ/s640/IMG_3290.JPG" width="640" /></a></div>
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<b>--3--</b></div>
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It's funny how <strike>we</strike> maybe just I am only now after having a bundle of kids learning how best to savor every moment of my babies when they're babies. I think it's because I seemed to have had endless time to lay around and stare at my first or maybe even second borns that I somehow actually missed the right moments to hold onto. </div>
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It's not watching how they looked when they sleep that I'll miss. Or even that delicious baby smell that should be bottled up forever. Or the way their little toes spread apart when they sleep. I'll never understand why my father in law doesn't love that. It's my favorite! </div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjrvTem14nCju719bImZuIPe27y-apts4EsoUTbd1HjhzyJAWcZ4tSE6t8r1PQiQMfekLbx9zIT-D5VgKk7OXVZMM16fvkfUCsP3OKfEzMYMRVoGwPjk0uOYz9nCPldnnImw52YwO5Y2Jw/s1600/IMG_8661.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="426" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjrvTem14nCju719bImZuIPe27y-apts4EsoUTbd1HjhzyJAWcZ4tSE6t8r1PQiQMfekLbx9zIT-D5VgKk7OXVZMM16fvkfUCsP3OKfEzMYMRVoGwPjk0uOYz9nCPldnnImw52YwO5Y2Jw/s640/IMG_8661.JPG" width="640" /></a></div>
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I think it's just them being babies that goes by too fast. And it's my own darn fault! With Sienna I used to literally just lay next to her and watch her sleep for more time than I'm willing to pen and I suppose I don't really miss that time. That imagine is imprinted deep in my heart forever. But what I also have imprinted next to the sweet smell of her baby skin and the way her lips pursed when she slept is knowing how anxiously I awaited and looked for each milestone to come. I practically coached her into rolling over. We couldn't wait for her to crawl and walk. We used to practice her walking, so she'd pick up on it faster. </div>
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So I'm wising up like I did with Bash and I'm going to savor every moment of both of them being a baby by letting them be one for as long as I possibly can. At 28 months old the big kids were practically walking off to college, but not with Bash. For some reason I still feel like he is still my little baby too. And so, I'm going to keep cherishing my time having my two little babies to snuggle and play with all day. </div>
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Ok, even though I just said all that I have to admit, if there were ever a baby stage I'm tempted to hurry along it's teething.... </div>
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<img border="0" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjStoV8P-E8zEn4d50AYNIFlYAa8vGaTjNrfIdz81Ip_O9DcEflVTRhEEWOsbYIPkHZu_ZOwxz3OzxAQMM3J_xaJO7D2Q4hd-1ByCUnf8_G-BG3Ndv6GwMifa6B3wNXeKbvx3RUmknlENE/s640/blogger-image-1849305192.jpg" width="480" />
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We've got it bad, folks! Real bad. Flash flood warnings have been called on his drooling and any thunder would be surely masked by his fussing. </div>
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Speaking of not hurrying things along, this week I've also felt acutely aware of the ways that having a big family means we all get to practice being patient all day long. Let's go through the few virtue opportunities we had just yesterday:</div>
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<li>Be patient, I'm busy changing your brother's bedsheets, because he somehow snuck a sippy cut into his crib last night and soaked his diaper all the way through to the mattress protecter. I'll get your breakfast ready in a minute. </li>
<li>Be patient, we cannot play with the train set that you're so quietly occupied with, because we have to rush out the door to get the big kids to school on time. </li>
<li>Be patient, Mommy has to load and buckle all 3 of your other siblings into their many point harness car seats while crawling around a tightly packed and suffocatingly hot minivan before the air conditioner will start working strong enough to make a difference. </li>
<li>Be patient, your sister is taking 20 years to take an epic poo in the public restroom while we alllll wait outside her stall and try desperately to keep the toddlers from drinking the toilet water. </li>
<li>Be patient, we cannot run off to play on the tantalizing park swing set because we all have to stop and wait while I discipline your brother who is refusing to put on his shoes and therefore keeping us waiting in the blazing sun. </li>
<li>Be patient, I can't answer your 1000th previously answered question, because Mommy is putting herself in time out for a few minutes because she is far to hot, sweaty and cranky to do anything else. </li>
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It actually hasn't been as stressful as #5 might lead you to believe, but it has been HOT. Everything is crankier when it's hot. And after all my mushy baby loving in #4, I wanted to be honest with you. </div>
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You know what hot means.... crickets. We have crickets sneaking into our garage to escape the heat (I imagine), which our kids think is as good as an Easter egg hunt! </div>
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"Mom! We go to bed at night and when we wake up early in the morning the crickets are there waiting for us to find them!!"</div>
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<i>Oh goody gumdrops! </i></div>
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Granted, I've never been a little boy, but I simply do not understand the fascination with all things creepy crawly. Even Sienna's been hit by the cupid of bug loving. Currently, their favorite game is to catch them and let them escape in the house and watch them squirm off to hide under our couch.<br />
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<img border="0" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiazffGsPf8NVlGUC5MJ-DxPpVqcv2WTQ8Z2gVEj7B-qCTt4pT-bxgMQOhF4-PFs1e0ZonQLpaIuc4nXJ_ZIxTRCjpdmOo_yug7JRZKqBFF9JUF09-83n_u1w-piAkSWRQ_xxk5GCMGD4o/s640/blogger-image-582397527.jpg" width="480" /><br />
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The perk to this is that Bash is becoming quite the aspiring entomologist. <br />
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He can name all sorts of different kinds of nasty things. Bee. Pider. Daddy Leg Pider. Ant. Cricked. Fy. Bit-you-bug. Bit-you-pider. Yady bug. Icky bug. Geen gass bug. <br />
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I can see it now... sorry Mrs. Future Preschool Teacher, he doesn't know his colors, but do you have an insect book he can read to the class? <br />
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So that's what we've been up to lately! What about you?<br />
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Jessicahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08717431018060327948noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5859370752984985091.post-61534361719582190032013-09-04T09:26:00.000-07:002013-09-04T09:26:53.832-07:00Straight Talk With Sienna Vol 3<br />
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Watching the boys run all around the house in their super hero capes after a bath...</div>
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<b>Sienna: "</b>Can I have ear drops?"</div>
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<b>Me:</b> "You don't seem sick, you don't need drops. I don't think you have an ear ache, Sweetie."</div>
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<b>Sienna: </b> "Yes, I do! They boys keep screaming so loud it's givin' me an ear infection."</div>
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Watching Daddy cut his hair in our bathroom...<br />
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<b>Sienna: </b>"Daddy has a little gray hair, but you can't see it when he cuts it short. But you can see your freckles anytime."<br />
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Trying to console me after her previous comment...<br />
<b>Sienna: "</b>I know another difference between you and daddy! Your legs are fluffy and his are muscly"</div>
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Holding the little parakeets at the aquarium...</div>
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<b>Sienna: </b>"Oh no Mom! The birdie is looking for my milkoos!" </div>
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Running late to school in the morning we get stuck behind the most clueless driver in the world who isn't turning on the left arrow...</div>
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<b>Me:</b> "Come on... please!! Go!! It's green!"<br />
<b>Sienna: </b>"Geez Mom, people should hornk their horns at her!"<br />
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In the car on the way home from school...<br />
<b>Sienna: "</b>Mom! Did you know the devil is very mean and evil!! He is happy when we do bad things, because he wants God to be sad."<br />
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<b>Me:</b> "That's right, he's horrible. I hope I never have to meet him."</div>
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<b>Sienna: </b>"What does he look like?! Do you have picture of him?!" </div>
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<b>Me: </b>"No, I don't want any pictures of him! He's too terrible." </div>
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<b>Sienna: </b>"I know! We check on Facebook for some!"<b> </b></div>
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Jessicahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08717431018060327948noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5859370752984985091.post-67978555085018044262013-08-28T14:26:00.001-07:002013-08-28T14:29:16.036-07:00A little zippy<div class="separator" style="clear: both;">
<strong>WARNING:</strong> This post is not for motherly audiences. Apparent Tales is not responsible for loss of breath, heart palpitations or any emotional damage experienced as a result of viewing the contents of this post. At least one mother was found shaking, sweating and clinging to her smaller children not far from the location where these dangerous adventures took place. This may happen to you if you try this at home. </div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgb7dE-srKx1SGgOMHGbB0veaq0zg5Vl1ELRaFWCMutYiv1WZ9D_BYSnNFdIt0ItUUVqejUJGQ8Zzq8hUQY_HwSkzP8qhtMZ566pLVz47mSxzgC-IMkIMD8AWNH6DBQxuqTzBwAn4v-ohQ/s640/blogger-image-1904632756.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"></a><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjA5kDYbmfW9wClahJXGaTNHuJh5_3D9dOYO7Bs0V8TCXNjngWsoH_gQ2YFMwAmWnXmIyz_0EDOlODnsoQtjpni7jEYgipZgSbnu138Yaf3jLB6PkW_JcOhpQKNJ9FtbMiuiTjZDiEr8d8/s640/blogger-image-1121296222.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"></a><br /></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjA5kDYbmfW9wClahJXGaTNHuJh5_3D9dOYO7Bs0V8TCXNjngWsoH_gQ2YFMwAmWnXmIyz_0EDOlODnsoQtjpni7jEYgipZgSbnu138Yaf3jLB6PkW_JcOhpQKNJ9FtbMiuiTjZDiEr8d8/s640/blogger-image-1121296222.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"></a><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgQiejEu7clMrUPNndkIfIEJYvbIwPvY3q1WoH5IIQomj21AR51wvO1dcnlPd6OcEkbzaR11wQ9GvDZLdmL6OqNsvKS_PIlhqxB6sInw9UtBbPc7J9Mwav0g6MRVSC7g394hC09IJh4dQ8/s640/blogger-image--1337349219.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"></a><br /></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgJYF7cizWbKUttSe9igdpxoLjwcDQzxaBQdWeX5yxCM2IwlG_b6vopUBw9M4Akdu4xsbF1ojaR3I-1eYb4RCIzX-JhoJumcNmx0mTAEb4QWgr8lAZ1_88fEy-O0oI5w2y-cb1Rk63oP30/s1600/030.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgJYF7cizWbKUttSe9igdpxoLjwcDQzxaBQdWeX5yxCM2IwlG_b6vopUBw9M4Akdu4xsbF1ojaR3I-1eYb4RCIzX-JhoJumcNmx0mTAEb4QWgr8lAZ1_88fEy-O0oI5w2y-cb1Rk63oP30/s640/030.JPG" width="426" /></a></div>
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Our sister and brother in-laws' house just outside of Portland, Oregon is becoming quite the anticipated gathering spot by everyone in the family. It's on a few acres that back up to the forest and they have tons and I mean tons of really fun stuff to do for outdoorsmen big and small. I had been pumping up the kids for weeks about their huge chicken coop, Aunt Danielle's garden the size of grocery stores and thick forest we could go exploring in. Did you notice I never once included their homemade 50 ft long and 30 ft high zip line? </div>
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Unfortunately, the more adventurous member of this marriage who thought that allowing our 5 year old daughter to go on this aforementioned scary, dangerous and manmade zip line certainly had. </div>
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! ! ! ! ! </div>
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Did you just pee a little watching this video? </div>
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It's ok, happens to even the best of the kegelers 'round here. </div>
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Don't worry. I did not go down on this one without a fight. I was mad. I huffed. I puffed. I begged, pleaded and cried a little not to let her go until she was at least 18. </div>
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But I rarely get my way when it comes to outdoor adventures. Plus, I'm a notorious wimp and am so terrified of heights that my leg starts the standing shake when I even watch someone climb up high heights (like a 3 food ladder, I'm not joking.) Daddy is the bravest of the brave, the adventurousist of the adventurers and also the wisest of the wise. He knows that Uncle Greg has lots of engineer friends and that this zip line wasn't your average home job. Plus, Daddy has had all sorts of survival, rock climbing, belaying, outdoor adventuring certifications, so he does know these things. </div>
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He and every one else I previously considered reasonable and sane assured me that it was completely 100% safe. </div>
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So I held on tight to the boys (who were DEFINITELY not going), did a few ring around the rosaries for dear life and watched our beloved Enna do her first "Zippy."</div>
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<img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgQiejEu7clMrUPNndkIfIEJYvbIwPvY3q1WoH5IIQomj21AR51wvO1dcnlPd6OcEkbzaR11wQ9GvDZLdmL6OqNsvKS_PIlhqxB6sInw9UtBbPc7J9Mwav0g6MRVSC7g394hC09IJh4dQ8/s640/blogger-image--1337349219.jpg" /></div>
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Except we didn't just watch. We watched with wide, excited eyes and then some of us begged to go next. </div>
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Before I could convince him that he might die or grow extra limbs out of his forehead or even turn into a bunny rabbit if he dared to go, Daddy had him suited up and dangling by his side. </div>
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Now poor Jonah takes after his mother on this one... </div>
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And in this case, I couldn't be prouder watching him bear hug Daddy for dear life! Atta boy!! Safety first, fun second! </div>
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The way things were going I quickly grabbed Bash and bribed him with unpicked blackberry bushes as far away from the zip line as our wobbly legs would take us....</div>
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Thank God Daddy didn't hear him whispering "Bash do thippy? Bashy's turn do thippy?" Jessicahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08717431018060327948noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5859370752984985091.post-89072881427296838392013-08-20T19:56:00.003-07:002013-08-20T20:06:59.063-07:00I don't need an alarm for Sienna's first day of kindergartenIf you have ever run a marathon or maybe at least a dreaded timed-mile for middle school PE, you know what can happen when you don't pace yourself. <br>
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Which is why I can recognized with confidence that in the last week I didn't pace myself.<br>
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I bolted out of the end of summer gates at a rookie pace that I could not maintain on <a href="http://apparentales.blogspot.com/2013/08/no-mom-ill-take-bus.html">Jonah</a>'s first day of school last week. Mom's with one or two kids would be considered sprinters in this game (no less challenging, but different muscle building required). When training for this event I had not taken into account that although I only have 2 children starting school this month, the other children at home are still... <i>at home</i>... equally sleep deprived from going to bed at the later summer time and waking up at the early school time and still <i>at home... all cranky day long</i>. As a result, my category was better qualified as long distance. A very long distance of adjustment and re-sleep training that I tried to run like it was a 100m dash. The first day of school was only the warm up lap. <br>
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This is particularly ironic, because in the end my first day of school enthusiasm rating paired directly opposite each poor little dear's personalities. When I was overly excited, Jonah was ready to punch me in the face. When I was too tired even fake mild excitement, Sienna was looking for a half time show rally. <br>
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<b>Which brings us to Sienna's very first day of kindergarten... </b><br>
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My eager, responsible and brave Sienna must have slept with one eye open and one toe in her uniform. When the dawn of her first day of kindergarten broke she was awake, fully dressed and breathing a minty fragrant "good morning" into my should-still-be-dreaming face at 5:40 am. <br>
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<b>Sienna: </b> "Hi Mommy, Can you please do my hair? I have been thinking half pony tail with the uniform bow. That's cute right?" <br>
<b>Me: </b>"zzzzzzz"<br>
<b>Jonah: </b>"It's time to be awake Mommy! We're going to make breakfast!" <br>
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<i>Am I dreaming? Someone is making me breakfast. Oh that sounds wonderful. Ask if we can get a late check out time? </i></div>
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<b>Sienna:</b> "Mom, your phone alarm really didn't work. It's time to get up."<br>
<b>Me:</b> <i>Ok, not dreaming. "</i>Jonah, you're hurting Mommy's shin. Please step off my leg, so I can see if we're late!" <br>
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5:37 am<br>
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And looks like we'll never know if I figured out how to make my phone alarm work, because we beat it to the 6:00 am punch! <br>
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If this were actually a race this would be called a false start and the young opponents would be disqualified.... <br>
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But since it's motherhood and there's no way to disqualify your kids from being kids, I just get penalties by way of disaster clean ups caused by kids roaming my house without direct supervision for 2 seconds. <br>
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So off we were into the soft yellow, orange, and pink yonder sunrise to greet the first day of kindergarten ahead. Jonah made good on his promise to get us breakfast. Yogurt, fruit and hot dogs. No one ate the hot dogs, but I commend him for his unique spin on breakfast. Sienna said she wanted just a banana and plain toast so she didn't get any food on her uniform, which she explained as I stared into the beige smear of food on her brand school blouse. The kids could eat a piece of plain, raw celery and stain themselves with it.<br>
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After breakfast Sienna reviewed the contents of her backpack for the millionth time, which included 68 various forms of writing utensils (pencils, crayons, markers etc), each of which she had individually marked with her initials just in case they got mixed up with someone else's. This was actually her teacher's request, but I would've never imagined that a 5 year old would eagerly spend so much time doing this herself. Writing that tiny on a rounded surface is difficult for adult, but for someone with budding fine motor skills... wow.... let's just say she's a permanent member in my type A club for that one! <br>
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As she performed her last inspection, I did my usual first day interviewing...<br>
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<b>Me: </b>"So what are you most excited about for school this year?'<br>
<b>Sienna:</b> "Going to mass every day!!"<br>
<b>Me: </b> "Really! That's great! Why are you so excited to go to mass with your class?"<br>
<b>Sienna: </b> "Maaaa-ooom, because we get to see Jesus at our school every day."<br>
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This is the moment I knew I had to record this day in a safe place juuuuust in case we ever need reminding of why we go to mass in say 10 years?? <br>
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Which was exactly our problem. We were dressed, fed and ready to go 30 minutes early. </div>
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We were going to be late. </div>
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As predicted, the entire 1st day of school, on-time parent population watched us as we schlepped up to her classroom door with not 10 seconds to spare. I'd like to pause for a moment of thanks to the nearby domestic disturbances and coffee stops that kept law enforcement off our speeded path. Before this day I never knew the mommy missle had so much pick up. <br>
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Poor thing feels exactly the same way I do about being late. </div>
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The hair tucking. No, please not the hair tucking. I'm so sorry! I tried so hard to get us in the car on time. It was mostly your brothers' faults for pooping, spitting up and hiding shoes in the 11th hour that we have to blame. </div>
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Like me, she would rather NOT go somewhere at all than show up late to it. </div>
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Her excitement melted away to unease and nervousness as all eyes watched us find her seat.</div>
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Right smack dab in the middle!</div>
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: x-small;">(Watch out for the fake cheetah petting photo bomb by Jonah)</span></div>
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And in between two of her friends from preschool. </div>
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The perfect seat! </div>
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Before I could click and another picture, she ran over to squeeze me so tight and said "Ok Mom, you can go now! I love you more than anyone in the whole world."</div>
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With that we left, came back home for Jonah to take his bus to school and were suddenly left all alone. Mommy with the little big brother and the baby brother. </div>
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There were 4 in the bed and the Big One said "Roll over" so we all rolled over and one flew off<br>
There were 3 in the bed and the Wild One said "Roll over" so we all rolled over and one drove off<br>
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There were 2 in the bed and the big little one said "when are they coming home?" </div>
Jessicahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08717431018060327948noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5859370752984985091.post-41641564509236176342013-08-13T15:40:00.000-07:002013-08-13T15:40:35.564-07:00Behind the scenes of the 1st day After all the darling back to school pictures flooding my <strike>addictions</strike> social media new feeds I got to thinking... Forgive my bias here, but I think I had quite the adorable back to school picture for social media my adult show and tell expo. But what I didn't show or tell is the not-cute-in-any-way story leading up to the 3 minutes surrounding my picture perfect pictures. <br />
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Why didn't I? This blog is to document my apparent tales through raises this busy family. If all I share is the good stuff then I might as well call it Ideal Tales. Or something not punny. And that wouldn't be me. <br />
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So let me share what our first day back to school morning went like in it's entirety.... buckle up, folks. <br />
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<b>3:15am- </b>When I laid my head down for the 3rd time since "going to bed" for what I hoped to be my longest stretch of sleep before waking up. <br />
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<b>5:45am- </b> Not too shabby, but Dear Jonah, perhaps you'd like to spend some time with your favorite monthly subscribed streaming babysitter until Mommy's eyes stop twitching? <br />
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<b>7:00am- </b>Now that we've wasted our screen time quota for the day and I haven't even made breakfast yet... I better stop lying around starring at this adorably squishy baby in my arms. I half-stumbled down the stairs with a forced smile on my face and a freshly nursed Sam drooling down my arms. Today is a special day for Jonah. Be happy. Be playful. Be loving. Be P-A-T-I-E-N-T. <br />
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<b>7:15am- </b>Feeling awake! The smiling got the best of me. It's gonna be a fun day! Jonah will be at school for a few hours. Just one toddler boy to manage. Maybe I'll even run errands with the lighter crew? Possibilities are endless!<br />
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<b>7:30am-</b> Home cooked breakfast. Starting off the school year right! Is anyone watching? I'm so rocking this! <br />
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<b>7:45 am- </b>Jonah woofed down his boobery pancakes before I could make a spectacle of myself again with all my first day of school cheerleading and what not. Before I could ask if he wanted more he was off to intensely play with his legos far away from his overly enthusiastic mother. I wonder if he wakes up so early on purpose to get the groggy, less excited version of me?<br />
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Meanwhile, around 8ish let's say, Bash woke up screaming and flying with fever. Since he wanted nothing but "Up" all morning, I spent the rest of Jonah's time home carrying around at least one, but usually two small children. <br />
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<b>2 seconds away from a nervous break down am- </b>Which also occurred around 8:45,<b> </b>I decided that listening to the synchronized crying was less stressful than wearing one baby in a carrier while also holding a drippy, snotty, whining, feverish 2 year old on my hip. <br />
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As I put everyone who was now making my morning sweaty and miserable down on my bed I caught a glance at the clock just in time to realize Jonah needed to be dressed and waiting for the bus in 13 minutes. That's totally enough time to get myself dressed, brush 96 teeth, get everyone else including Jonah (who never wants to do anything when I'm in a hurry) dressed and rotate the laundry right? </div>
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Possibly with normal human beings. But definitely not with strong willed, defiant toddlers. I'll skip the gory details of flailing legs, ear piercing screams, chases around the house and cut straight to a gentle prayer I offered to our Lord to put us back on track... </div>
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Deep breath. <br />
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The crying is only in my imagination. <br />
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The house is a disaster, but nothing is permanently broken yet. <br />
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Focus. <br />
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One more deep breath. </div>
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"<i>Dear Lord, I need you. I am a little-</i> <b>JONAH! I SAID COME HERE!</b> <i>overwhelmed and I really need this to all go smoo</i>- <b>I SAID <u>COME NOW</u>! TAKE YOUR PJS OFF!</b> <i>go smoothly. Please, help the kids jus-</i> <b>THAT'S IT! You're going to miss the bus! I asked you to take off your pjs and now I am going to do it for you! </b> <i>Dang it! I mean, that wasn't for you, God. Just please help the kids stop fighting with each other just get dressed quickly for me. I really need to take some pictures of Jonah before he leaves for his first day of school ever, if it's Your will and all, and I don't want to say goodbye to Jonah so angry. I'm asking for the graces to-</i> <b>I DON'T CARE IF YOU DON'T LIKE THESE SHOES! YOU ARE WEARING <u>THESE</u> SHOES! </b><i>Ugh, Amen!</i>" </div>
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Yep. You are welcome to pray with me any time. I'm also available for motivational speaking. </div>
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Fortunately, God likes to help me out even if I can't manage to ask very nicely and everyone was dressed on time, except me. But at least I am still nursing 'round the clock and was wearing a bra from the night before, which came in handy as I ran after the school bus in my pajamas, unbrushed bed head, cereal flavored morning breath and bare feet. </div>
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I keep it classy when I'm stressed. <br />
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<b>9:21 am - </b>Jonah was on the bus and on his way. <br />
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<b>9:21:30 am- </b>Now what?<br />
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<b>9:22 am- </b>We all sorta stumble back inside, sit as close as humanly possible on the couch and stare at the wall. <br />
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<b>9:25 am- </b>The phone rings. Daddy wants to know how Jonah got off to school. <br />
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And just like that every thing you just read fled from my short term memory and all I said was:<br />
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"Ohmygoodness Babe! He was so excited! You'll never guess what he want's to be when he grows up?! He's the cutest thing ever! I actually already miss him!! I wish you could've been here!"<br />
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Yup, just like that. And that is probably why no one shares about the hours leading up to the one picture perfect moment. We're mothers. We forget the bad and lovingly hold onto all the good. At the end of the day even all this is part of the good. It's stressful. It's chaotic. It doesn't go as planned. But it's everything I've ever wanted.<br />
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<i>Annnnnd, I'm back to report that Overly Tired From School Jonah just woke up from peeing <b>my bed</b>. Since this post is about being transparent and all... </i><br />
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Note to self: get Jonah to start napping on daddy's side. </div>
Jessicahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08717431018060327948noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5859370752984985091.post-17867894222907294282013-08-12T15:19:00.001-07:002013-08-12T15:19:04.644-07:00No Mom, I'll take the bus On his very first day of preschool ever, my not-as-little-as-I-want-him-to-stay-forever Jonah chose to take that big yellow school bus all by himself instead of riding there with me.<br />
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I'm pretty sure I stopped breathing for the entire morning. Did you read that carefully? My second baby just spread his stubborn, wildly passionate, yet unexpectedly sensitive and loving little wings and fled my nest to his first day of preschool?! On the baby bus!! <br />
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Don't worry, I still don't cry in public or anything. Although, in case anyone has hacked into our nanny cams I should disclaim that there must have been... uh... dust... or something in the air because my eyes were <i>watering</i> as I walked back inside. Like I could possibly be mistaken for one of those cheesy moms who would actually ask to climb onto the bus to take one last picture of her first timer and then awkwardly wept like the tiny baby she still thinks her son is as she waved goodbye. That wasn't me. I was just logically and non-emotionally observing his surroundings one last time before they drove off. For safety reasons.<br />
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This <strike>little</strike> extremely big boy is so much like his daddy it's really pathetic that I still get surprised by his reactions to life. We've been talking about his first day of school since we met his teacher last week. <br />
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<b>Me:</b> "Are you excited for school tomorrow Big Jonah?"<br />
<b>Jonah: "</b>School is not tomorrow."<br />
<b>Me: </b> "What do you want to do on your first day?"<br />
<b>Jonah:</b><br />
<b>Me: "</b>Do you remember your teacher's name?"<br />
<b>Jonah:</b> "No. Can I go play with my toys again now?"<br />
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Then the day of arrives and I rush downstairs to pump him up!<br />
<b>Me:</b> "Happy first day of school!! What should we wear to school?! What special snack do you want to pack?! Should we make special blueberry pancakes before your bus gets here?!"<br />
<b>Jonah: </b>"No."<br />
<b>Jonah: </b> "Wait, yes, I want boobery pancakes"<br />
<b>Me:</b> <i>Goofy mommy dancing around the kitchen </i>"You got it!"<br />
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After typing this exchange, I realize you may side with Jonah's responses... I admit I was a little over the top. Perhaps annoying. However, the person in this family who most recently had a first day of preschool would have hoped and dreamed for nothing less. I too as a wee preschooler would've gleed in delight to all of the above questions again and again and again. <br />
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Alas, Jonah comes from Daddy's tree. Do not ask Daddy or Jonah if they are ever excited about anything. Point taken.<br />
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But he WAS excited. Oh was he ever! <br />
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As soon as he finished his boobery pancakes, was<i> finally </i>dressed and ready to go he couldn't hold in his joy a moment longer. As soon as I said it was time to go outside and wait for the bus he was literally dancing in the driveway.<br />
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"Dance away from the street Jonah so the bus won't get you when it comes."</div>
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"I am not dancing Mom."</div>
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"I am flying."</div>
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Jonah kept "flying" around for what felt like a trip around the world... This secretly excited almost preschooler was getting pretty heated waiting around: </div>
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<b>Jonah: </b>"Are you kidding me? Oh man. When is HE gonna be here!" </div>
<b>Me: </b>"He'll be here. Maybe he's a little lost. Can I take some more pictures while we wait?"<br />
<b>Jonah: </b> "NO. He is not yost. He is yate. Take a picture of my ang-gey eyes"<br />
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Oh no he didn't just pack those angry eyes! I decided we better go inside and grab my phone just in case they weren't coming.... Just as we walked through the door we heard one of the most glorious sounds to every 3 year old boy...<br />
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THE BUS IS COMING!!! </div>
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But then kept right on going. Past our house. Past the only preschooler in this entire neighborhood who happened to be jumping up and down on our drive way. </div>
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So I in my pjs, with snotty Bash in my arm, </div>
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ran after the bus frantically waving, </div>
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like I belong on a farm.</div>
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Yes, I am aware that little diddy just made it worse. </div>
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But we did catch him. And it was a good thing, because he was yost, which is why he was yate. Jonah was so excited he didn't even kiss us goodbye. Up he climbed and off he went. Just like a seasoned bus riding pro he's always wanted to be. </div>
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"The bus" makes it sound worse than it really is.... but if I were to accurately describe it as a "short bus," well that too also sounds worse than it is! It's a <strike>short </strike> small bus specifically for preschoolers with 5 point harness seat belts and an aide that rides along to help all the little ones on and off the door to door service. But still. It's the bus. </div>
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Happy first day of preschool, My Love. </div>
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Jessicahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08717431018060327948noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5859370752984985091.post-51629722760338059622013-08-09T14:24:00.000-07:002013-08-09T14:24:59.948-07:007 Quick Take Friday vol 20<div class="separator" style="clear: both;">
I can't believe I missed hanging out with <a href="http://converstiondiary.com/">Jen </a>last week (cyberly speaking of course), but I have a good excuse! </div>
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We <strike>hauled </strike> gracefully escorted our entire family to the airport with a few of the essentials to visit Oregon for a week. </div>
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My favorite part of the journey was waiting for the many shuttles we ended up have to load and unload our light baggage onto while friendly bystanders stared, gawked and inquired if we knew we had our hands full? </div>
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Once on the plane I couldn't help but notice one of the adults in this family was sitting with significantly more children...</div>
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If the look on my face didn't tip you off on how I was feeling about the whole set up then you must be my husband. </div>
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Excuse me for waking you, Dear. I know you had your hands full with Lelo The Stuffed Lion, Bash and the window seat that kept him entertained until he napped the rest of the flight with you. I was hoping you could keep one eye open to watch the majority of our children for a second while I empty my bladder so Sam can continue jumping on it the rest of the flight? </div>
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<b>--3--</b></div>
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We landed! Safe and meltdownless! We did <strike>have to </strike>get to load and unload all of our not so light baggage onto another shuttle to pick up our rental car. I love all my children equally and recognize their different gifts. Jonah has a gift for being slightly more challenging under times of high stress. Is that a gift? Let's call it that so I don't sound like an ungrateful mother. Well, guess who demanded the prime lap real estate for all these shuttle rides? <b> </b></div>
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I braced for the worst. Aimless complaining. Stinky, sweaty Croc toes rubbing up and down my legs. Endless chattering on my nearly fried last nerve. <br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgMjXn_EfaaAP5435qhgKmPSV6xdliEzrb3a1rfFHzeyWSe2x7quHfBncFvJ_ecR-3juBlXLSaH2qlRkD2n_6n1gmg7CfyW-mclbpJXJWgn2c_MfIgfcsiz5L8VNqB1_9BXAORvNbRD85I/s640/blogger-image--25093725.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgMjXn_EfaaAP5435qhgKmPSV6xdliEzrb3a1rfFHzeyWSe2x7quHfBncFvJ_ecR-3juBlXLSaH2qlRkD2n_6n1gmg7CfyW-mclbpJXJWgn2c_MfIgfcsiz5L8VNqB1_9BXAORvNbRD85I/s640/blogger-image--25093725.jpg" /></a></div>
<br />
And then this debbie downer ate her words! It was fun having my little big man stuck to my lap for an extended period of time to snuggle, tickle and make silly faces with. Sometimes his passionate furry actually makes me laugh. He took the sour out of my grapes and I was feeling better by the time we got there. Sorry Jonah, I should've never doubted your mood after hours of traveling. You'll never cease to surprise me will you??<br />
<div style="text-align: center;">
<b><br /></b></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<b>--4--</b></div>
<br />
We arrived to the arms of the much more fun version of Daddy.<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh__EqQIOrzJ6mJ-8uUl06rRLqOV8oPVaORcHGAIUAA7js_7WDANAdDfAk4ZjsBfC7gX9KIhWnMY6db85vaydY3FhOvg5BwX5Jc4HI7LhshkPDIvkbZWqvkZaym6_4uqfkC1eCgHqXACXM/s1600/IMG_3505.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="426" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh__EqQIOrzJ6mJ-8uUl06rRLqOV8oPVaORcHGAIUAA7js_7WDANAdDfAk4ZjsBfC7gX9KIhWnMY6db85vaydY3FhOvg5BwX5Jc4HI7LhshkPDIvkbZWqvkZaym6_4uqfkC1eCgHqXACXM/s640/IMG_3505.JPG" width="640" /></a></div>
<br />
He has a snazzy ride-on mower that I'm pretty sure would make even yours truly excited about yard work.<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgODOIu22yqSAsrZ6lXH4H3PEP511BRrAF7d-nz7uVmSGKIxWG23i8HM5gvGOVEe6f3fpNPfXt4fSYSN6pRM9aRWKRIH_KbU8f7NrgiZs2PNIIPvnm9Pfxw7Lt9TDCbf60TWVWhixC4jBI/s1600/IMG_3584.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="426" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgODOIu22yqSAsrZ6lXH4H3PEP511BRrAF7d-nz7uVmSGKIxWG23i8HM5gvGOVEe6f3fpNPfXt4fSYSN6pRM9aRWKRIH_KbU8f7NrgiZs2PNIIPvnm9Pfxw7Lt9TDCbf60TWVWhixC4jBI/s640/IMG_3584.JPG" width="640" /></a></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<b><br /></b></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<b>--5--</b></div>
<br />
Grandma and Grandpa's house is the paradise every grandparents' house ought to be in our eyes! Beautiful wide open spaces to roam...<br />
<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjD9KCFsRBJa_ZU4ObLoc2shdJ2DaTdlMDIz6zkaq6zXPWIb90n44qrpZzDwMrdeSed7CEHkWYN1i85kB3HHwMafkFWkfOJyQmZUVSzHp-Lh2sySiVHeaVt_WtEE-H-154v7vWUpAVPJrE/s1600/IMG_3580.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="426" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjD9KCFsRBJa_ZU4ObLoc2shdJ2DaTdlMDIz6zkaq6zXPWIb90n44qrpZzDwMrdeSed7CEHkWYN1i85kB3HHwMafkFWkfOJyQmZUVSzHp-Lh2sySiVHeaVt_WtEE-H-154v7vWUpAVPJrE/s640/IMG_3580.JPG" width="640" /></a></div>
<br />
A delicious garden the size of a grocery store to snack off...<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhU2MPbeRIkZnUvlmNm5G3pRd5KsJORh9u4JB6HTn4ddMYWpogQPcJ_p0C63KzfQDrmmSWWPpMZEJAsLvnHcm769tIb3poXq2g6CystkcnS74JaLv5Rc8TLAAqP_sSXRl_TMqG5Ya-G4MA/s1600/IMG_3596.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="498" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhU2MPbeRIkZnUvlmNm5G3pRd5KsJORh9u4JB6HTn4ddMYWpogQPcJ_p0C63KzfQDrmmSWWPpMZEJAsLvnHcm769tIb3poXq2g6CystkcnS74JaLv5Rc8TLAAqP_sSXRl_TMqG5Ya-G4MA/s640/IMG_3596.JPG" width="640" /></a></div>
<br />
A grandma who rarely says no to baking her famous fresh berry pie at a moment's notice...<br />
<br />
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh7Gl6_TeFEUI11D5-7OdK4fL9OOEoARdpMPRQo2GEGo-Ghsi_8hF33vQTFlI0kcNJJsoC3N2WuR6KcydQMWv2-6zbNEz7QFWoyF0EnjKaNUoFubK_Sw8D3tycy7fNaMhYiTDEZuxKQwX4/s1600/IMG_1520.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="426" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh7Gl6_TeFEUI11D5-7OdK4fL9OOEoARdpMPRQo2GEGo-Ghsi_8hF33vQTFlI0kcNJJsoC3N2WuR6KcydQMWv2-6zbNEz7QFWoyF0EnjKaNUoFubK_Sw8D3tycy7fNaMhYiTDEZuxKQwX4/s640/IMG_1520.JPG" width="640" /></a></div>
<br />And little furry friends for Sienna to <strike>torture</strike> beg us to keep forever and ever...<br />
<br />
<div style="text-align: center;">
<b><br /></b></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<b>--6--</b></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
Every time we visit there's a debate about how long to stay. It goes something like this:</div>
<br />
<b>Me: </b>Let's stay for 2 weeks.<br /><b>In Laws:</b> How about 5 days. <br /><b>Husband:</b> How about a weekend. <br /><b>Me: </b> How about 10 days.<br /><b>In Laws: </b><i>*quiver with fear*</i><br /><b>Husband:</b> How about a long weekend.<br /><b>Me:</b> Ok, fine, one full week final offer.<br /><b>In Laws:</b> Perfect! <strike>That's plenty long enough for you to destroy our house, eat all our food, let your kids pick every carefully tended flower in our garden and require us to completely stop our busy schedules to sit around with you. </strike><br /><b>Husband:</b> Uh, oh, ok, yeah, one week.<br />
<br />
And then once we leave the conversation goes something like this:<br />
<br />
<b>In Laws: </b> It's so hard to say goodbye! We can't stand you living so far away...<br />
<b>Husband: </b> We gotta find a way to spend the summer months here and the rest of the year in Arizona.<br />
<b>In Laws: </b> We would love that. <br />
<b>Husband:</b> It feels like we just got here. <br />
<b>In Laws: </b>The trip goes by too fast.<br />
<b>Me:</b> Can I record this conversation for when we plan how long our next trip will be? <br /><div style="text-align: center;">
<b><br /></b></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<b>--7--</b></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
Fortunately, one thing I don't get fought on while visiting Oregon is taking a family picture. This is really a miracle. I fear for my life suggesting such things anywhere else in the world. </div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhWcbb9eGU8XAe_LkbRamExM7Y2tcVojNQAIxYrGF7ja97N5SQmToEdslGn0ulr1VwvL5S7kvhZ-_845u8sv-y28gRbu6p8-pi4emWanHK3exYRsr4XUg8o5367itlDeOq9SUqqtnGy3zg/s1600/IMG_3590.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="426" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhWcbb9eGU8XAe_LkbRamExM7Y2tcVojNQAIxYrGF7ja97N5SQmToEdslGn0ulr1VwvL5S7kvhZ-_845u8sv-y28gRbu6p8-pi4emWanHK3exYRsr4XUg8o5367itlDeOq9SUqqtnGy3zg/s640/IMG_3590.JPG" width="640" /> </a> </div>
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Thank you, Sienna, for the hideous fake smiling. Without your disruption we might have actually had a good family picture... and that... <i>that </i>my friends, is never allowed in big families. </div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjiI3CGSAUeIUEY3_j0r7VR4apvPKSaGLKA9176QqZ9GYFmkRvDAcr5HPWj5UyNUMSwkDN4fpBI6MKjgfEV38S8b6qa6XtFVHO1y9Pasp31h6DJchEyUi2446Beq5aU7eEGV0w4rezUKLs/s1600/IMG_3591.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="426" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjiI3CGSAUeIUEY3_j0r7VR4apvPKSaGLKA9176QqZ9GYFmkRvDAcr5HPWj5UyNUMSwkDN4fpBI6MKjgfEV38S8b6qa6XtFVHO1y9Pasp31h6DJchEyUi2446Beq5aU7eEGV0w4rezUKLs/s640/IMG_3591.JPG" width="640" /></a></div>
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<div style="text-align: center;">
If you can't beat 'em, join 'em. </div>
<br />Jessicahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08717431018060327948noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5859370752984985091.post-63819380949984469082013-08-08T08:41:00.000-07:002013-08-08T08:41:02.233-07:00Only for the babysitter<div>
If you've ever had the pleasure of trying out a new babysitter you'll know it's scarier than trying on bathing suits 6 weeks after having a baby. </div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
You're a little unsure that the kids will feel comfortable with the new care giver. You dread the awkward babysitter small talk that makes you realize: yes, you are old now and no, you're not as cool as you think you still are. You might wonder if she'll be able to locate the emergency phone numbers and 5 page manual on exactly how <i>you </i>change your baby's diaper in the heat of the moment. You know, the things that make you not as cool as you think you are. </div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
By the 4th kid we've learned not to worry about all that. Instead we worry that if she survives she might not want to come back. </div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
Not because our kids are terrors or because our house is a pile of disgusting (all reasons I didn't return babysitting calls oh so few years ago). <br />
<br />
<div style="text-align: center;">
Actually our house is fairly clean and our kids are usually pretty sweet.... it's mostly because of hearing about conversations like these that keep me holding my breath:</div>
</div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><b>Jonah-</b> "Ms Eggan, don't you have a penis too?" </span></div>
<div>
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><b>Ms Megan-</b> "uuuuhhh.... let's play trains." </span></div>
<div>
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><br /></span></div>
<div>
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><br /></span></div>
<div>
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><b>Sienna- </b>"Ms Andrea, do you have a baby in your tummy too?"</span></div>
<div>
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><b>Ms Andrea-</b> "No, I just got married, maybe someday!"</span></div>
<div>
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><b>Sienna-</b> "Are you sure? It looks like there is a little baby there." </span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><br /></span>
<br />
<div style="margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px;">
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><b>Jonah-</b> "No, Mommy, Samuel has to stay with me! I want him to stay with us and Ms Megan too?"</span></div>
<div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px;">
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><b>Me- </b>"I'm sorry Sweetie, Ms Megan doesn't have any milk. He has to go with Mommy until he's bigger." </span></div>
</div>
<div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px;">
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><b>Jonah-</b> "Ms Eggan, didn't you bring your naked under there?" </span></div>
</div>
</div>
<div>
<br />
<br />
<div style="text-align: center;">
It has also occurred to me that babysitters might not appreciate <i>all</i> of our new tricks:</div>
</div>
<div>
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif; font-size: x-small;"><br /></span></div>
<div>
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><b>Sitter</b>- "Come on guys! Let's all go outside and play!" </span></div>
<div>
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><b>Bash</b> - "I need Leo. Leo side. Leo side!" </span></div>
<div>
<i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">Bash runs back inside and shuts the door </span></i></div>
<div>
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><b>Sitter</b>- "No Bash, we need to leave the door open."</span></div>
<div>
<i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">Bash locks the door</span></i></div>
<div>
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><b>Sitter-</b> "Sebastian, open the door."</span></div>
<div>
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><b>Bash-</b> </span></div>
<div>
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><b>Sitter</b>- "Sebastian! Open the door please!" </span></div>
<div>
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><b>Jonah</b>- "He yocked it."</span></div>
<div>
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><b>Bash-</b> </span></div>
<div>
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><b>Jonah</b>- "Oh gate. We're stuck. Mommy is gonna be ang-gey with you!" </span></div>
<div>
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><br /></span>
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><br /></span></div>
<div>
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><br /></span></div>
<div>
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><b>Ginnes</b>- "Are the kids supposed to go swimming after naps?"</span></div>
<div>
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><b>Me</b>- "uh, did they go swimming after naps?"</span></div>
<div>
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><b>Ginnes</b>- </span></div>
<div>
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><b>Me</b>- "Ooook then, looks like now they are." </span></div>
<div>
</div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
<i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">While getting ready for bed Sienna <strike>tricks the sitter into thinking</strike> tells the sitter that Bash has to try going pee on the potty before we put his pajamas on too: </span></i></div>
<div>
<div>
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><b>Bash quickly waddles over to the potty, climbs up and screams- </b>"I need potty! I need potty!" </span></div>
</div>
<div>
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><b>Ms Megan-</b> "Ooook, let's see this." </span></div>
<div>
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><b>Jonah</b>- "He did it!! Now Mommy says <strike>never says </strike> we can run around in our nakeds and sing to him!" </span></div>
<div>
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><b>Ms Megan</b>- "Are you sure, I think he probably needs to pu-" </span></div>
<div>
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><br /></span></div>
<div>
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">The kids start race around the house singing in their nakeds </span></div>
<div>
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><br /></span></div>
<div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">2 second later </span></i></div>
</div>
<div>
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><br /></span></div>
<div>
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><b>Jonah-</b> "Ew!! Ms Eggan! Bashers is putting more of his green poo poo in the carpet and all over his naked!"</span></div>
<div>
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><br /></span></div>
<div>
<b><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><br /></span></b></div>
<div>
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><b>Ms Megan-</b> "Sienna, does your mommy have carpet cleaner?"</span></div>
<div>
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><b>Sienna-</b> "Yes!! I know where it is! Isn't in her room, but you have to unlock it, because her and daddy have privates in there." </span></div>
<div>
<br />
<br />
<div style="text-align: center;">
May the sweetest, toughest and wisest sitters survive! And even after she does, it's observations like this (the ones I hoped she'd never notice) that keep me praying she'll still come back... </div>
</div>
<div>
</div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><b>Ms Andrea</b>- "Sienna is a close talker." </span></div>
<div>
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><b>Me</b>- "Yeah, I know... Unfortunate, isn't it?"</span></div>
<div>
<br /></div>
Jessicahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08717431018060327948noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5859370752984985091.post-5205555682388014992013-07-27T16:57:00.002-07:002013-07-27T17:03:33.988-07:00Support head well! So this whole blogging every day thing does sorta become habit forming... I was pretty sure I was done and then this thing happened to me today and all I kept thinking was how I wanted to get home and write about it! <br />
<br />
Today wasn't my birthday. There is no flying bacon outside my window. I'm also pretty sure it's not snowing in July. <br />
<br />
But somehow I negotiated my way into sneaking off for the afternoon all alone to get a pedicure, perhaps a deliciously cold iced tea and a stroll through a few clothing stores. Did I also mention I didn't even have to take Sam? <br />
<br />
I better check my drivers license... maybe it is my birthday?<br />
<br />
Anyway, so I went back to my new favorite pedi place that is only $23 including a hot stone massage and callus scrub. No I will not share it's location lest they become popular and up the ante. Although, you might have to tell me after reading this post if it's time to find a new nail place again....<br />
<br />
I first tried this salon for my sister's bachelorette staycation in Scottsdale. I meant to blog about it because it was super fun, but I didn't, so in a nut shell (if I'm even capable of "nut shell" recaps):<br />
<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjcMLfnTx9hA0pXxbbjZ8z04QwOdBYXvbJMklUCvIBOHjbzD0_MSpvH4Nbi3HWIR4347UlEDqvFIZ7QDpptuRSkiK9J_bw48u723GvgJ7xOOO7Hkuc17j-hgu1A8ghgTEqKxoYVFuJXiys/s1600/2013-06-07+18.47.17.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="480" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjcMLfnTx9hA0pXxbbjZ8z04QwOdBYXvbJMklUCvIBOHjbzD0_MSpvH4Nbi3HWIR4347UlEDqvFIZ7QDpptuRSkiK9J_bw48u723GvgJ7xOOO7Hkuc17j-hgu1A8ghgTEqKxoYVFuJXiys/s640/2013-06-07+18.47.17.jpg" width="640" /></a></div>
<div>
<ul>
<li>We stayed at a fancy hotel for "sizzlin' summer prices" and ate fancy dinner</li>
<li>I kept it fresh by bringing my newborn baby to a bachelorette party</li>
<li>We went out on the town (sans newborn) </li>
<li>I felt extremely old and frumpy</li>
<li>We ate specially shaped cookies and drank from specially shaped straws </li>
<li>Last important point was when I brought my newborn baby to get manis and pedis..... </li>
</ul>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjTEU1nzRZEs1eoWUaigyeQ6cCxo0q0a9qo_aMn2lbAF1zbdH-fRGlWa1RxaYoG9ZLpIounps9mWPfIzSiI1HrlgnKEVdMPjfK0Xzd7Xhyphenhyphenhe_cy3i5WZLASzhWLckKk3nMHVVne3fCkYpQ/s1600/2013-06-08+12.54.44-1.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjTEU1nzRZEs1eoWUaigyeQ6cCxo0q0a9qo_aMn2lbAF1zbdH-fRGlWa1RxaYoG9ZLpIounps9mWPfIzSiI1HrlgnKEVdMPjfK0Xzd7Xhyphenhyphenhe_cy3i5WZLASzhWLckKk3nMHVVne3fCkYpQ/s640/2013-06-08+12.54.44-1.jpg" width="480" /></a></div>
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Our mini chip n' dale was still sleeping in his car seat when we got to the nail salon, so my plan was to leave him in there. However, all the ladies were so happy to see a new baby they kept wanting to touch him, so I thought better of it and decided after my feet were already soaking to try to take him out. My sister's nail person <strike>(what's PC for this?)</strike> (never mind, I'm rarely PC) wanted to help:</div>
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<b>Nail lady-</b> "I hold seat for you"</div>
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<b>Me- </b>"Ok, thanks, I can actually do it easier if you leave the seat on-"</div>
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<b>Nail lady</b>- "No, I hold up. You take out."</div>
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<b>Me</b>- "Ok, yes, I guess thanks that works." </div>
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<b>Sam</b>- <i>Scrunches up into the adorable 2 month old yawn and baby stretch</i></div>
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<b>Me</b>- <i>Carefully twist my stretching baby out of his buckles</i></div>
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<b>Nail Lady</b>- "Support head good. Support head good!"<br />
<b>Me-</b> <i>Carefully pull Sam closer to me</i><br />
<b>Nail Lady</b>- "SUPPORT HEAD GOOD!!! HAVE TO SUPPORT HEAD!!"<br />
<b>Me-</b> <i>Lay Sam on my chest</i><br />
<b>Nail Lady</b>- "SUPPORT HEAD!!!! SUPPORT HEAD!!! STOP!"<br />
<b>Nail Lady</b>- "Dis your first baby. Have to support head. Very fragile. Support head. Head not strong. I show you. Let me hold."<br />
<b>Me</b>- "Oh thanks, he's actually really good at holding up his head already, especially while he stretches like that."<br />
<b>Nail Lady</b>- "No, no. Have to support head. First baby. I teach you. I have 2 baby."<br />
<b>My sister</b>- "Oh, she knows, this is her 4th baby."<br />
<b>Nail Lady</b>- "First baby."<br />
<b>Me</b>- "One, two, three, fourth baby. I have 4 children."<br />
<b>Nail Lady</b>- "Ooooh. Well you know head fragile."<br />
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<div style="text-align: center;">
Dead awkward silence</div>
<br />
<b>Nail Lady</b>- ()#%&# !#% #@% (Angry smack talk in foreign language to other nail ladies about dumb girl whose baby's head is going to roll off for the remainder of our stay)<br />
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<br /></div>
The rest of the weekend we laughed plenty about this exchange and felt so bad for the poor Nail Lady who must have felt embarrassed right? <br />
<br />
It was the best pedicure I've had in a long time and the price was right. Also, that little thing was no big D. I doubt they'd even remember. Right?<br />
<br />
But just in case when I walked in today I carefully looked around to see if the same woman was there. <br />
<br />
She wasn't! <br />
<br />
Safe.<br />
<br />
Another woman invited me to sit in her chair and started massaging away until:<br />
<br />
<b>New Nail Lady- </b> "You here before. You have new baby?"<br />
<b>Me- </b> "uuuuh, yes, um once before."<br />
<b>New Nail Lady-</b> "I know you. New baby. You sat there. I work on other side. I heard baby. So cute."<br />
<b>Me-</b><br />
<b>New Nail Lady-</b> "Baby no cry."<br />
<b>Me- </b>"No, he's such a good baby! He's very easy going."<br />
<b>New Nail Lady- </b>"You still have baby?"<br />
<br />
<br />
Nooooo I don't have him any more.<br />
His head rolled off? <br />
Say whaaaaa??? <br />
That can't be what she said!<br />
<br />
To be fair, I had a very difficult time understanding New Nail Lady and she did say "So cute." That's nice right? Maybe she meant did I bring him with me? I did however notice that my massage was significantly shorter than the last time and she didn't use hot towels....<br />
<br />
The begs the question, is it time to find a new nail salon?! </div>
Jessicahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08717431018060327948noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5859370752984985091.post-5471677403235913132013-07-26T14:25:00.003-07:002013-07-26T14:29:38.661-07:007 Quick Takes Friday Vol 19<div style="text-align: center;">
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<div style="text-align: center;">
<b>--1--</b></div>
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Yesterday got me thinking about how Bash is at the fun talking point where he's really learning to string together his thoughts in sentences and is excited to repeat new phrases. Which, you know, is unfortunate considering <a href="http://apparentales.blogspot.com/2013/07/poopy-mommy.html">Jonah's current obsession</a>. Luckily the mimicking of potty talk hasn't been too bad so far. Here's a good little taste of conversations with Bash-e:<br />
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<iframe allowfullscreen='allowfullscreen' webkitallowfullscreen='webkitallowfullscreen' mozallowfullscreen='mozallowfullscreen' width='320' height='266' src='https://www.youtube.com/embed/sfamc0fhyGk?feature=player_embedded' frameborder='0'></iframe></div>
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<br />
<div style="text-align: center;">
<b>--2--</b></div>
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<br /></div>
Ok, ok, one more....<br />
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<iframe allowfullscreen='allowfullscreen' webkitallowfullscreen='webkitallowfullscreen' mozallowfullscreen='mozallowfullscreen' width='320' height='266' src='https://www.youtube.com/embed/SgzvyWadVm0?feature=player_embedded' frameborder='0'></iframe></div>
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It's shorter, I promise.<br />
<div style="text-align: center;">
<b><br /></b></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<b>--3--</b></div>
<br />
This time of year is very near and dear to my heart. Not because I sweat just thinking about going outside... but because we get to go back to school shopping! Much like going trick o' treating, I've been very fortunate to have never missed a single year since I was 5 years old. Before you click away from creepy creeper over here let me explain. Ok, I don't have a good explanation for the treat o' treating.... I have no excuse, but if it makes it more socially acceptable I did start finding people with young children to go with once I hit college? Eh? Anyway, back to school supplies because this is a legit excuse! I was a teacher for a few years and then I quickly made my own kids so I'd have to buy supplies even when they were 6 months old to, you know, stock up for them for later. Sienna and I went over her list last night and I'm over come with pride seeing her match my excitement! <br />
<br />
<div style="text-align: center;">
<b>--4-- </b></div>
<br />
My sister was actually just telling me how her first conscious memory of recognizing sarcasm was over school supplies. Our family has really dry senses of humor and recognizing sarcasm is a sort of survival skill 'round these parts.... She explained clearly remembering Dad looking at the stuff Mom bought and saying "Ah, another box of crayons? You're right, we <em>need</em> this. We don't have any crayons in this house." My sweet, gullible sister said, "Yeah, I kno-oooh."<br />
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<b><br /></b></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<b>--5--</b></div>
<br />
Oh that takes me to another memory of my dad and sarcasm! We were shopping at Target or somewhere and they had Candyland marked so low they were practically giving it away. My dad says "Oh Candyland! Now that's a great game to buy." I rolled my eyes along and say "Oooh yeah!" And my then adult sister says, "Oh I know! I love Candyland, but it goes too fast." Come to think of it, maybe she never picked up on that survival skill? Maybe it's just the subject matter. Candyland and school supplies are serious business. <br />
<br />
<div style="text-align: center;">
<b>--6--</b></div>
<br />
We took the whole fam to browse around Target a few weeks ago. <strike>I'd never been there before, so I thought I'd check it out. </strike> <strike>I'd never been there before wearing a yellow shirt and thinking of the number 14.</strike> Ok, fine. We really had no good reason, but fortunately the hubs settled for "Just to get out of the house and see if there are any sales?" Secretly my only motivation was to see if they have new school supplies out. Maybe reduced Candylands for a certain Aunt we love so much? <br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhAbTcrJmjwHbujo7BPXQyjTtpvDZxm0pC9g5YJUe7qD3Di7Xtps6i1J8cRcu6qhOshi_X3dh6qFGFbBsKzWM9OiYErftdFkY42opLHhllCs8BDVfYFgTpwy18pAxfS6tmP7Bgg0mbfF4s/s1600/2013-07-08+19.49.56-1.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="480" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhAbTcrJmjwHbujo7BPXQyjTtpvDZxm0pC9g5YJUe7qD3Di7Xtps6i1J8cRcu6qhOshi_X3dh6qFGFbBsKzWM9OiYErftdFkY42opLHhllCs8BDVfYFgTpwy18pAxfS6tmP7Bgg0mbfF4s/s640/2013-07-08+19.49.56-1.jpg" width="640" /></a></div>
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If you were there I'm quite sure you would've spotted, heard or smelt us a mile away. Bash had a dirty diaper. Which is why no one would sit in the cart next to him. Daddy kept saying he liked this arrangement better than doing pushing himself, but wondered if Sienna could push a little faster to keep up with Mommy (who was rapidly sneaking ahead to have time to browse the shoe clearance)?<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiwTVjxajqqRQ0HEx8E_DV2YdZWFF3HbmKU6ytrhlSu_0TQyIon6vwf0Bvra8d6IdVGMDyVsj6pTIa-07P7_3ay0syVSgHAj4Oqq5_0NKp8fnRiNzYclfZvlPPnVGfshr4jw0wyGDtXxeA/s1600/2013-07-08+19.50.10.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="480" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiwTVjxajqqRQ0HEx8E_DV2YdZWFF3HbmKU6ytrhlSu_0TQyIon6vwf0Bvra8d6IdVGMDyVsj6pTIa-07P7_3ay0syVSgHAj4Oqq5_0NKp8fnRiNzYclfZvlPPnVGfshr4jw0wyGDtXxeA/s640/2013-07-08+19.50.10.jpg" width="640" /></a></div>
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No, but Jonah never has any trouble pushing and Daddy sure got what he asked for.</div>
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</div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<b>--7--</b></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<b><br /></b></div>
And there you have it readers, I made it all week posting every single day! Can I say I'm proud of myself? Because I am proud of myself. When <a href="http://conversion%20diary/">Jen</a> suggested a link up for posting every single day for an entire week I thought hey, maybe it'll get me to post more than once a week. I have to say I didn't think I'd make it, but I'm glad I did because I now have a whole new level of respect for bloggers like <a href="http://camppatton.com/">Grace</a> who regularly blog every single day. I like writing, I have no trouble rambling on and on and on about plenty of things but I have <span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: xx-small;">this much</span> free time. It's a miracle I can make dinner. How do they do it all?! <br />
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<br />
Thanks to <a href="http://conversiondiary.com/">Jen</a> for the 7 posts idea and the 7 QTFs ideas. I'm so impressed with some her posts this week, especially considering she has even less time than I do to blog every day. Jessicahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08717431018060327948noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5859370752984985091.post-66786437414075309012013-07-24T14:36:00.001-07:002013-07-24T14:36:18.145-07:00Did you notice? I did something a little new around here... did you notice? Did you? Huh? Huh?<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgILvWfbil8XtQdLBvOqJ-_pWAFdDzTSg_SggAFtyzSWUoqIOIM9QbNylGukgwe_Fv3Y4dN1HARCVblLRKFmtCMhKfy7I-RgLsm8Ir8eJQOLyS5y6nQpw3myLoPKGkFKbP92L_oETP7_i0/s1600/APPARENT+TALES+color.png" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="94" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgILvWfbil8XtQdLBvOqJ-_pWAFdDzTSg_SggAFtyzSWUoqIOIM9QbNylGukgwe_Fv3Y4dN1HARCVblLRKFmtCMhKfy7I-RgLsm8Ir8eJQOLyS5y6nQpw3myLoPKGkFKbP92L_oETP7_i0/s320/APPARENT+TALES+color.png" width="320" /></a></div>
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<br />
I hope its not too fowl. <br />
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Ok, promise, that was the first and last joke I'll quack. Ah! Sorry, really. Done. <br />
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<br />
I'm actually quite proud of this one! My <strike> sister</strike> professional and talented graphic designer whipped it up for me in like 2 seconds. Ok, it was probably little more than 2 seconds. Point is, it was so fast I didn't even know how fast it was. She actually drew the ducks too!! She is amazing. I thought of doing an entire post on her graphic design work, but she has her own blog and I'll just wait for her to do herself justice and link over for you all to see. <br />
<br />
So the ducks. Why ducks? It wasn't just for the joke possibilities, which are in fact endless. I just liked the idea of the goofy little baby birds waddling behind Momma bird. But it couldn't be just any bird. It had to be a slightly awkward definitely not graceful or smooth type of bird. Have you ever seen a row of ducks crossing the road? It feels like my life most days. I love how traffic just stops for them to take forever to make their way safely. That's us. Everywhere we go we seem to turn heads, stop others in their path to make room as we ungracefully waddle through life in our own unique and beautiful path. <br />
<br />
From left to right, please meet Bash the Always Jumping on Something Duck. Daddy (In the back Making Sure We Don't Lose Bash) Duck. Jonah the Ready To Run Off to His Own March Duck. Sienna the Happily Dancing Duck. Baby Sam the Closely Following Mommy Duckling. And last, but not least, the (Only Slightly Shorter Than Daddy Duck) Mommy Duck. <br />
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<br />
What do you think?! <br />
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<br />Jessicahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08717431018060327948noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5859370752984985091.post-41751779233376362172013-07-23T22:03:00.001-07:002013-07-23T22:03:19.555-07:00St Louis, archn't you super space ageyI wasn't going to do it because it required me to re-fro-ify my recently straightened and serumed smooth hair by walking a whole 5 minutes from my hotel to the Gateway Arch. But, it seemed to be the one thing you just had to do before leaving St. Louis, so I dealt with a strut through what felt like a heated humidifier to the 630' tall Arch. <br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjwhiePOR_qKfT4tlTlXqkkouoZlaHCOfeg-CxIVFCiyCi4rPyFvnjKMvuv1m69MziU6DcIkUDtHaqTbgRBLByc2iGJfQcgNHBL7Au7wMdGZvaghIBBtzQsbH5NgvE5B4C4aHoEpxkAcR4/s640/blogger-image-480777674.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjwhiePOR_qKfT4tlTlXqkkouoZlaHCOfeg-CxIVFCiyCi4rPyFvnjKMvuv1m69MziU6DcIkUDtHaqTbgRBLByc2iGJfQcgNHBL7Au7wMdGZvaghIBBtzQsbH5NgvE5B4C4aHoEpxkAcR4/s640/blogger-image-480777674.jpg" width="480" /></a></div>
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A tall view is a tall view, so I have to be honest I think I enjoyed my wowing panoramic view of the city more from the business dinner I went to at the 42nd floor restaurant of the one of the tallest sky scrapers in St. Louis than the view from the Arch. <br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiwedWjH4R3gxASNKeZ0zS_zmzi5Y5G9bzxE1mg-NCf3NVaVzv3yFDJ1rBpDAj9ZR4qkYVdmt6dQBy5rYcVUzJOuGdaCpX9XeZOfpGJYhjaudsvTq3vSskaQoFIyt8GDMLMNMoppKoYWB0/s640/blogger-image-993094490.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiwedWjH4R3gxASNKeZ0zS_zmzi5Y5G9bzxE1mg-NCf3NVaVzv3yFDJ1rBpDAj9ZR4qkYVdmt6dQBy5rYcVUzJOuGdaCpX9XeZOfpGJYhjaudsvTq3vSskaQoFIyt8GDMLMNMoppKoYWB0/s640/blogger-image-993094490.jpg" /></a></div>
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But what I would say was worth my $10 was the super 70's space age ride up to the top of the Arch! <br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjLkoQ1OVL4o1034S-uKPyKSUJTTWKR7z9f_PKqH40M0hL_QBFqjxr256sdzAcK78hTvF-25soR1oDJqzuUgwEpoVSvdwcD4fVu1epcrcQRbxOSKuXft7H0XUMvHxC80e6qfzAK8uQMWfo/s640/blogger-image-148461276.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjLkoQ1OVL4o1034S-uKPyKSUJTTWKR7z9f_PKqH40M0hL_QBFqjxr256sdzAcK78hTvF-25soR1oDJqzuUgwEpoVSvdwcD4fVu1epcrcQRbxOSKuXft7H0XUMvHxC80e6qfzAK8uQMWfo/s640/blogger-image-148461276.jpg" /></a></div>
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Standing in line I hadn't really thought much about the 4' tall "doors" in front of us. I'm not sure why either. I guess I was expecting to ride up in an elevator or something.<br />
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<br />
It actually wasn't until the death threats against tampering with the doors, "vessel" as they called them or windows that I noticed the Alice in Wonderland size of a key hole I was going to squeeze through. <br />
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<br />
The vessels held 5 passengers at a time who all crouched in knee to knee facing the door. The 4 strangers who I considered could have wound up being the last 4 people I ever spoke to all agreed that we probably faced the door for the claustrophobics who naively agreed to this adventure. <br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgBRXmAp2pRWk138K55ThTyeTtugE9-xfQJ7njAWZFxRwrVRVGceOdRmmRj6rumyWlxsCA-5jsi26zjUZx1NDQ8DxXCy1PxPECXOaTdKwq4vhgydLOhaSkk9Nz8l7_LJo_6nN3lU0cRMos/s640/blogger-image-613958203.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgBRXmAp2pRWk138K55ThTyeTtugE9-xfQJ7njAWZFxRwrVRVGceOdRmmRj6rumyWlxsCA-5jsi26zjUZx1NDQ8DxXCy1PxPECXOaTdKwq4vhgydLOhaSkk9Nz8l7_LJo_6nN3lU0cRMos/s640/blogger-image-613958203.jpg" /></a></div>
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As we jerked and wiggled on the 4 minute ride to the top we also began to understand why they didn't give you a view outside during the ride up. I'm pretty sure if any of us could've seen fresh air we would catapulted our crunched up selves right through the window! <br />
<br />
When we made it to the top I was about to demand to see a current newspaper. But alas, one glance at the Justin Beiber cloned high school summer staffer assured me we hadn't actually traveled through time.<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiNRFsLQEGLAil1kOCg5mCx7JyvnHuhN6uDhdNnraojEuGRmEHG3fSVbYWOy6foxAkJUrFxVsW1Y1uiryA_O8oh4iJhhfttVxOX7zKJQDwdOGqSi9RJDhbY-vtVSGjTt2_yqGedaDiH_44/s640/blogger-image-1621458854.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiNRFsLQEGLAil1kOCg5mCx7JyvnHuhN6uDhdNnraojEuGRmEHG3fSVbYWOy6foxAkJUrFxVsW1Y1uiryA_O8oh4iJhhfttVxOX7zKJQDwdOGqSi9RJDhbY-vtVSGjTt2_yqGedaDiH_44/s640/blogger-image-1621458854.jpg" /></a></div>
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<br />
The top was pretty amazing. I was on the first vessel to the top, so it wasn't too crowded. I took my time finding the best window to take a picture out of. <br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjfSFQ_fJRGRTkZliU5aSuV0YvVR1Wf9tgCx5M37ZgVxQBv-Sodpavgw1z0uF4VtWQG_juFnamvU0S3Fs_z6NXroaqpnpiJvfpqxg5a2Hhk81eLcXwaHdYtgUwcLe5lF23b32p92tt7l4A/s640/blogger-image--558531702.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjfSFQ_fJRGRTkZliU5aSuV0YvVR1Wf9tgCx5M37ZgVxQBv-Sodpavgw1z0uF4VtWQG_juFnamvU0S3Fs_z6NXroaqpnpiJvfpqxg5a2Hhk81eLcXwaHdYtgUwcLe5lF23b32p92tt7l4A/s640/blogger-image--558531702.jpg" /></a></div>
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Speaking of windows, I wanted someone to tell me how on earth they kept the whole top area so clean, especially the windows! There is NO way a standard size vacuum and mop could fit in the vessel. Oh, those windows were streakless! Maybe that's why the ride is so scary. You couldn't have bribed my kids with all the candy in the world to get into the vessels to ride up. No sticky fingered kids around = clean windows. <br />
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Speaking of not wanting to take kids up fortunately one of my colleagues offered to babysit Sam while I ran over, because I really don't know how that would've gone over. Excuse me, can you hand sanitize your stranger knee so I feel comfortable with my baby's knee resting on yours? <br />
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Because someone was waiting back at the hotel with Sam, I tried to make my space age travel brief. I made sure I caught the first return trip, which you have to wait in line for again! They won't send a few vessels at a time. I think there are 8 and they seemed to wait for at least half of the 8 vessels to fill up before they run. I want to know what if you were panicking at the top and needed to get back on the ground right away? Do they let any panic attackers just cut on through the return vessel wait? I over heard a mother comforting her teenage daughter with an offer to do a few "ring around the rosaries" on the way down.<br />
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So I snapped this cool shadow pic and headed down to the empty vessel I somehow scored all to myself. It wasn't nearly as tense that time. In fact, it was a little fun and I decided if I ever did want to write a sci fi novel I'd definitely pay to just ride the 70's Arch vessel transporters back and forth back and forth until I was finished. <br />
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As I headed for the door Gateway Beiber reminded me to purchase my "group" photo. Of which I decided to illegally take a picture of instead. Thank my lucky stars I wasn't arrested for such treason! How could anyone let me wear that old shirt? Oh, right, it's taking a picture of a picture that they said was illegal. Allllrighty then. <br />
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In the end, I was glad I did it. (Not the illegal picture taking, I don't really care about that). As an added bonus, I even made it back to my hotel in time to straighten my frizz mob hair once again before getting to my presentation. </div>
Jessicahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08717431018060327948noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5859370752984985091.post-81637085617161797162013-07-22T17:19:00.004-07:002013-07-23T03:52:07.942-07:00Why I live and love naturallyThis week is NFP week, which I'm extra excited to plug for because I just returned from a conference in St Louis where I presented for <a href="http://www.symptopro.org/">SypmtoPro Fertility Education</a>, a symptom-thermal method of Natural Family Planning that I practice and also teach online! <br>
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I was a wee nervous about my presentation, which I coped with by telling just about every warm body I encountered on my way there all about SymptoPro and NFP. So, since I've put a lot of thought into it over the past week I thought I'd share the top 5 reasons my husband and I practice <a href="http://apparentales.blogspot.com/2013/06/natural-family-planning.html">Natural Family Planning</a>. It's not for everyone, but here's why it has been life changing for us! <br>
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(Yes, he's grabbing what you think he's grabbing... see reason #2)</div>
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<strong>Reason #1</strong></div>
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<strong>My fertility is a beautiful part of what makes me a woman. </strong>By using NFP my husband and I are constantly talking about my fertility. It's not something I "deal with" on my own. It's never something we forget about or take for granted, because it's an active part of our every day life and our daily (yes, daily) conversations. It's never something we shove out of sight until we're ready to use it. My fertility is part of what makes me a woman and me being a woman is part of what makes me attractive to my husband... so me without the fertility God made me with isn't attractive to him. Just like him without his manliness that God gave him isn't attractive to me. This could be why the <a href="http://www.ourcatholicmarriage.org/parishes/statistics/">divorce rate</a> is in the single digits for couples practicing NFP. <em> I give ALL of me to my husband just the way I am.</em><br>
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<strong>Reason #2</strong> </div>
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<strong>Sex is better when you practice NFP. </strong>If you don't believe me you've never practiced NFP. And if you still won't take my word for it, that's ok, but would you consider a <a href="http://www.usnews.com/news/articles/2013/07/17/devout-catholics-have-better-sex">US news study</a>? So if A + B = C then this could be part of the significantly lower divorce rate thingy.... oh yes it is! <br>
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<strong>Reason #3</strong></div>
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<strong>It is all natural.</strong> 100% organic. No fine print. No trading one symptom for another. Completely in sync with the natural design of our bodies. I hardly like taking Tylenol. I'll suffer through most pain before I turn to medication. I will do everything in my power to avoid taking an antibiotic. I go through the trouble of buying natural, healthy, hormone free food to feed my family. Wouldn't it be a little silly for me to do all that while taking the pill? It simply does not make sense for me to willingly turn to a chemical every single day to avoid a pregnancy in turn for the many grave <a href="http://28daysonthepill.com/seven_min.html">potential side effects of hormonal contraception</a>. Women say they won't happen to them, but as someone who works in this industry I can promise they do happen. <br>
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<strong>Reason #4</strong></div>
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<strong>I am open to life and pro-life. </strong>Being pro-life isn't just about abortion. It isn't just about having a million kids. Many people who are open to life don't have kids and don't particularly want to have any. Being pro-life and open to life is about loving, cherishing and dignifying every single life even beginning with the act that has life giving potential. Being open to life is a commitment to welcoming the fullness of a sexual act: the pleasurable and the procreative functions. That doesn't mean every single time we have sex we hope for it to be procreative, but we accept, understand and expect that it could be. This very mindset brings about a deep bond between man and woman unlike any other relationship! <br>
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<strong>Reason #5</strong></div>
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<strong>It's second nature now. </strong> I never believed it would happen... but on more than one occasion I've caught myself charting when I was pregnant. I've crossed a line.... I'm in too deep and now I'm not sure I could stop practicing NFP even if I wanted to. I can't help but observe fertile markers now that I understand what they are! It's as second nature as feeling a cold come on. If we could all learn how to do this imagine how much healthier we'd be? Learning to practice NFP isn't second nature at first by far, but that's like anything, how many people jump on a bicycle without training wheels for the first time and just speed off? It does take a little practice to learn, but once you do, like riding a bike, it's really hard to unlearn! <br>
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Do you practice NFP? What are some of the reasons you do or don't? Jessicahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08717431018060327948noreply@blogger.com0