tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-21865004793215054742024-02-21T00:42:05.283-08:00Hancock familyAndreahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15919937546200472988noreply@blogger.comBlogger147125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2186500479321505474.post-6544921261593450652012-08-06T15:54:00.001-07:002012-08-06T15:58:03.973-07:00Washington DC<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
After years of begging, Jake's sister decided to move back to Utah from DC. I like to think that we were the reason she moved but I know that is not the case. It was simply the right time. Whatever the reason, she is back and we are thrilled. Even more thrilling was that Jake and I along with Curtis, Jake's brother, were able to fly out to help her with the move. Of course, that meant we got to vacation in DC and visit all the sites I had seen in my history books. It was something that I did not expect but an opportunity I would never change. I was bowled over by the spirit that I felt in these places. It was a testimony to me that God had a strong in hand in the making of this country. I have learned it. I have read about it. Now I have seen it. And I hope to see it again one day. </div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgtMz8X1Mjyd_ZmUwmMxo6pgfDF-XCDWA1f4fV5UzSlVvTeuDXszmgCAtOKEwbaJvT8zcxFJ8HUTRuOZMm0NvKCU6gD7-0nOitAeQ95k4jaJMW2yAW2IBfWLQrLVIRnskRM50T2jSJqJoyr/s1600/100_5302.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="213" kda="true" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgtMz8X1Mjyd_ZmUwmMxo6pgfDF-XCDWA1f4fV5UzSlVvTeuDXszmgCAtOKEwbaJvT8zcxFJ8HUTRuOZMm0NvKCU6gD7-0nOitAeQ95k4jaJMW2yAW2IBfWLQrLVIRnskRM50T2jSJqJoyr/s320/100_5302.JPG" width="320" /></a></div>
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj4jschwd1ZBLMM9PC5HmbGyZ7PFq6NsUcVjtVx-o9CtnqeSoL2DL4X_PPm341bD4DXOgLiz8BFiw64IKIqfpeNVaoeUYt6j8_gP2YF8hfy7zf23sCsuChRaLevdp3xBc8AZg0YzWzCqYA1/s1600/100_5303.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="213" kda="true" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj4jschwd1ZBLMM9PC5HmbGyZ7PFq6NsUcVjtVx-o9CtnqeSoL2DL4X_PPm341bD4DXOgLiz8BFiw64IKIqfpeNVaoeUYt6j8_gP2YF8hfy7zf23sCsuChRaLevdp3xBc8AZg0YzWzCqYA1/s320/100_5303.JPG" width="320" /></a></div>
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi6lfQa8mUp2I-m6tbWZPikdITkXcN8GzxCBkCG-PDeAmT6lw3gIxI1gSnWpcNs7r_-7SVvRXRGAjoNw8BvxhK7ZsYjZRJDfemFSsubpLeJBk3wa7AAH_BuNG1pCZFu1Ax6SdfTkH-4-g7A/s1600/100_5304.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="213" kda="true" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi6lfQa8mUp2I-m6tbWZPikdITkXcN8GzxCBkCG-PDeAmT6lw3gIxI1gSnWpcNs7r_-7SVvRXRGAjoNw8BvxhK7ZsYjZRJDfemFSsubpLeJBk3wa7AAH_BuNG1pCZFu1Ax6SdfTkH-4-g7A/s320/100_5304.JPG" width="320" /></a></div>
I just thought this picture was funny. Its not a picture vital to history<br />
but it will certainly be a part of my history in my blog book!<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEijpuv3k1YZchwBzA7qAXtyUF15_wRxvsM4FrexVmNIsMSHI18NhlV_NUrw27xD7X1v6IpkFUffsMwcnADCOmH6lg_vcuBqQ5A2bH1ac_q8i3UFGDhBmwPSKWGQXisv-lvPZAaU32MG4pQq/s1600/100_5306.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" kda="true" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEijpuv3k1YZchwBzA7qAXtyUF15_wRxvsM4FrexVmNIsMSHI18NhlV_NUrw27xD7X1v6IpkFUffsMwcnADCOmH6lg_vcuBqQ5A2bH1ac_q8i3UFGDhBmwPSKWGQXisv-lvPZAaU32MG4pQq/s320/100_5306.JPG" width="213" /></a></div>
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg3hosttUWUJ21vI7LCGl14Z0Yxhmf0t-e5UwQBkCendOivwdG97aM2qB0Pj9p8AMz457b9hdXqboBhCUaHhUfM4wrxEzYrFLHjibFdqXzRRE9K83Xjs3jigjPIXxDMLA_mTyr3Q_Zd6E04/s1600/100_5321.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" kda="true" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg3hosttUWUJ21vI7LCGl14Z0Yxhmf0t-e5UwQBkCendOivwdG97aM2qB0Pj9p8AMz457b9hdXqboBhCUaHhUfM4wrxEzYrFLHjibFdqXzRRE9K83Xjs3jigjPIXxDMLA_mTyr3Q_Zd6E04/s320/100_5321.JPG" width="213" /></a></div>
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiB_pvyUV0hfXXM073Me9EbIj_oQsZxlChyphenhyphenc08zaqWaNJpjg41dqTHb7vT7naCOSFITPzWusoaaulAdIKOmFeXNXk5IE7LgeL1HzFq2hykJDm6xoArItZ6nuMX3ma6M4I0kwsEHnV-60whc/s1600/100_5322.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="213" kda="true" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiB_pvyUV0hfXXM073Me9EbIj_oQsZxlChyphenhyphenc08zaqWaNJpjg41dqTHb7vT7naCOSFITPzWusoaaulAdIKOmFeXNXk5IE7LgeL1HzFq2hykJDm6xoArItZ6nuMX3ma6M4I0kwsEHnV-60whc/s320/100_5322.JPG" width="320" /></a></div>
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEibjMGZiPEQ1nWOkDSnPx870uvorXKkUOjkOIdAsLl9wqtvCaanNvQQsWJM1ivFwjmQK9CO8HC30DjihbJpinWdOoom5Lp_Rzl-qbQzLQsWHe3mygM9zz1gn2EoU84Y_HScth-3a7riJU8j/s1600/100_5325.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="213" kda="true" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEibjMGZiPEQ1nWOkDSnPx870uvorXKkUOjkOIdAsLl9wqtvCaanNvQQsWJM1ivFwjmQK9CO8HC30DjihbJpinWdOoom5Lp_Rzl-qbQzLQsWHe3mygM9zz1gn2EoU84Y_HScth-3a7riJU8j/s320/100_5325.JPG" width="320" /></a></div>
The national mall was huge! We walked the whole thing on a July day <br />
with the humidity. Yeah- it was a bit hot. Please notice Curtis' face though.<br />
He could be sitting in a fire pit with a hair dryer blowing in his face at <br />
the center of the sun and he would still tell you he is having the time of his<br />
life. That is just Curtis.<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiyPSfevQeZwyIv3xXkOsgaY5SYUnTcgY1L8L2-aqoGmRxC1sq6z2krv5j3CEbuUwyWG2Da41Ytgpfet2k-2xQbYpQ2gN5NLMEbGfkgwjKLg-Xm-an6df1rtL-VU0yuR3pmMPhWEASHzLGm/s1600/100_5330.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" kda="true" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiyPSfevQeZwyIv3xXkOsgaY5SYUnTcgY1L8L2-aqoGmRxC1sq6z2krv5j3CEbuUwyWG2Da41Ytgpfet2k-2xQbYpQ2gN5NLMEbGfkgwjKLg-Xm-an6df1rtL-VU0yuR3pmMPhWEASHzLGm/s320/100_5330.JPG" width="213" /></a></div>
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhqShsqqGeEOO4NZqL2ODuxF7wpuhfwwQt_DGN9EjGCmRRWGkFfdB4m8_VFyzO2e7LNWpk5dNjQX0ab5XK0kba84ucZ0hNWO3EtjomJeQSHBAHaJfNHMrI1tzjb4y6aWZNSmK5ibaK4UwYn/s1600/100_5332.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" kda="true" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhqShsqqGeEOO4NZqL2ODuxF7wpuhfwwQt_DGN9EjGCmRRWGkFfdB4m8_VFyzO2e7LNWpk5dNjQX0ab5XK0kba84ucZ0hNWO3EtjomJeQSHBAHaJfNHMrI1tzjb4y6aWZNSmK5ibaK4UwYn/s320/100_5332.JPG" width="213" /></a></div>
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh_H61dcpGnhuf_XwY22vjR2SvoSOW1L4MBwZAwI331gFmFDjiX-aTkUfqJbOevWWMUzmEUtUZ7q3shRE9Zz9IK4ZlZLdddccONKEaXeEHHzmQ-yDfJ_rBbUdIUYdSA6zCmvDPs54T1as44/s1600/100_5338.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="213" kda="true" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh_H61dcpGnhuf_XwY22vjR2SvoSOW1L4MBwZAwI331gFmFDjiX-aTkUfqJbOevWWMUzmEUtUZ7q3shRE9Zz9IK4ZlZLdddccONKEaXeEHHzmQ-yDfJ_rBbUdIUYdSA6zCmvDPs54T1as44/s320/100_5338.JPG" width="320" /></a></div>
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhlkyWgpfxBVXroRmM5RwQIYIR866L5nrB8QJxL6kmG88xxnWhte4g6bewx5OjcIvuctDr036xOqv41JDBnj5L4cj_mlWjqmlFDlPiwFwsgplnfud5_FipCR27QSW5pvl6LDqCR9pB5eL0B/s1600/100_5339.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="213" kda="true" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhlkyWgpfxBVXroRmM5RwQIYIR866L5nrB8QJxL6kmG88xxnWhte4g6bewx5OjcIvuctDr036xOqv41JDBnj5L4cj_mlWjqmlFDlPiwFwsgplnfud5_FipCR27QSW5pvl6LDqCR9pB5eL0B/s320/100_5339.JPG" width="320" /></a></div>
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi94lB5BzlEBgTUxfnhC110pUd7i__1azerTsJQEcxehNlIcjNx79s6rzHo_CzPB9cJh336BBI2_fHbSPAgOXjycylbviZPduy2GY8aeOP53bZkQj52rltDLjmNQa9h9ZHKH7JygzoSUgm4/s1600/100_5343.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="213" kda="true" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi94lB5BzlEBgTUxfnhC110pUd7i__1azerTsJQEcxehNlIcjNx79s6rzHo_CzPB9cJh336BBI2_fHbSPAgOXjycylbviZPduy2GY8aeOP53bZkQj52rltDLjmNQa9h9ZHKH7JygzoSUgm4/s320/100_5343.JPG" width="320" /></a></div>
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgFxqlSx9T-ZNVePbdFYqPLGzanKqOk0q4-ofyRS3Sb-GZpNi3qPfit12FUnlE_ruFniSwlI3J_Xu3tzVXLe3vY6SGwoYJ6yBP1kjrAcAPpqB0344TLtvfIgvvUZi6tomKYXz1uEVP_RXzc/s1600/100_5356.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" kda="true" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgFxqlSx9T-ZNVePbdFYqPLGzanKqOk0q4-ofyRS3Sb-GZpNi3qPfit12FUnlE_ruFniSwlI3J_Xu3tzVXLe3vY6SGwoYJ6yBP1kjrAcAPpqB0344TLtvfIgvvUZi6tomKYXz1uEVP_RXzc/s320/100_5356.JPG" width="213" /></a></div>
And finally.... the reason this country was established.....<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgOjZQH0jEej4AGLGdVJYiaupBGvd1ad8ZWAizP_s6-Q1pIn0HbQXwymqf3T9iB4H4lc4XVjw2qO8nyg7cnvpKz2aKzLMC7tuKVZBbpPLK6q5Lz93T71eJlqyLZ8d0MFzbySZUik96GUXVm/s1600/100_5364.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" kda="true" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgOjZQH0jEej4AGLGdVJYiaupBGvd1ad8ZWAizP_s6-Q1pIn0HbQXwymqf3T9iB4H4lc4XVjw2qO8nyg7cnvpKz2aKzLMC7tuKVZBbpPLK6q5Lz93T71eJlqyLZ8d0MFzbySZUik96GUXVm/s320/100_5364.JPG" width="213" /></a></div>
So the true gospel could be restored.<br />
It was a wonderful vacation. Thank you Sundee for hosting us and giving us an experience only a true native could provide. We are happy you made it safely back. I am happy you all arrived alive from a 2000 mile trip in a Uhaul. I am happy you did not kill eachother. But most of all, we are happy you are home!Andreahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15919937546200472988noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2186500479321505474.post-77039344352739274122012-06-27T17:28:00.000-07:002012-06-27T17:28:52.878-07:00No sense!<div style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none;">
Exhibit A: Dark brown eyes</div>
<div class="separator" style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none; clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiUd1wLBf4zEGga_z3CRWtPj3w8MuxIv0gXKYD63k1tAPKSB5__zwSFtt_ZLrR_cS41ImVAFgfY6zcorcbId4NaXi-KU3mX-YU0Qd3QZv20xL_OlMsWI3rZ7SZpXX4gzhLb_Q0SiwqRtboC/s1600/eyes1.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="147" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiUd1wLBf4zEGga_z3CRWtPj3w8MuxIv0gXKYD63k1tAPKSB5__zwSFtt_ZLrR_cS41ImVAFgfY6zcorcbId4NaXi-KU3mX-YU0Qd3QZv20xL_OlMsWI3rZ7SZpXX4gzhLb_Q0SiwqRtboC/s320/eyes1.JPG" vca="true" width="320" /></a></div>
<div style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none;">
Exhibit B: Darker brown eyes (hehe... that is only funny if you know that Jake and I have a continuous argument about who's eyes are darker.)</div>
<div align="left" class="separator" style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none; clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjJ2dpVRWWwI8vUb6cu9ik_06mlfbz-gDI44b9Lk7WvAWnJB-rtok1MUhUVj9ft__IaJkpMG9KAgAxP2ok00WA1Na8o5IEFCQJSLE1tdu2OSfPSQNd4wYmaVj6cC6sCGFCzrX6PntylMn0Z/s1600/eyes2.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="126" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjJ2dpVRWWwI8vUb6cu9ik_06mlfbz-gDI44b9Lk7WvAWnJB-rtok1MUhUVj9ft__IaJkpMG9KAgAxP2ok00WA1Na8o5IEFCQJSLE1tdu2OSfPSQNd4wYmaVj6cC6sCGFCzrX6PntylMn0Z/s320/eyes2.JPG" vca="true" width="320" /></a></div>
<div class="separator" style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none; clear: both; text-align: center;">
Exhibit C: Baby blue eyes!</div>
<br />
<div class="separator" style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none; clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgJKfymUSlaushRGEKb_QqpwFgAjfm4Jt-lZfjJSttrICUloDtBkPpsjqTzJ25z5NXDVmhFO1QnVTZhyphenhyphenuiNQyY2Jo6RlKrY3ZC3fguewSaGSO3J_WWL0jt4OxsUpDsgbYnygNPZKBrO2hu_/s1600/eyes3.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgJKfymUSlaushRGEKb_QqpwFgAjfm4Jt-lZfjJSttrICUloDtBkPpsjqTzJ25z5NXDVmhFO1QnVTZhyphenhyphenuiNQyY2Jo6RlKrY3ZC3fguewSaGSO3J_WWL0jt4OxsUpDsgbYnygNPZKBrO2hu_/s1600/eyes3.JPG" vca="true" /></a></div>
<div class="separator" style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none; clear: both; text-align: center;">
This makes absolutely no sense to me. I was always taught that A+B=C. Not in this case. Please spare me the lectures on genetics. I have heard them all. I get it- it is possible for Jake and I to have a blue eyed baby. Both of us have a blue eyed parent. I know... I know. I just thought it was highly improbable. My whole life I have heard about how the dark gene dominates. I had this idea in my head about dark hair, dark eyed, olive skinned babies. I am losing the battle. I am yet to have any dark haired babies.Their skin is still up in the air. And now I have a blue eyed baby. My genes are weak... WEAK! What does this say about me? I must admit that I love having a blue eyed boy. It makes him unique. Maybe the next baby will be a toe head. At the rate I am going, I would not be at all surprised!</div>Andreahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15919937546200472988noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2186500479321505474.post-35632497530684150742012-06-22T22:28:00.001-07:002012-06-22T22:28:08.017-07:00Bear Lake<div style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none;">
The kids and I took our annual trip to Bear Lake last week. This time we were joined by my two sisters and their babies. Jody and Kit are always so gracious to let us come and play. I often joke with my cousins that they need to send me a bill for the babysitting service because I feel like I walk through the door on Monday and I don't see my kids again until we are packing in the car to leave. Brad, Natalie, Kimmy, and Tyler are all so great to rush them from the pool to the park, park to the beach, beach to the scooters, and scooters back to the pool. Thank you Curtis family. We love it more and more each year.</div>
<br />
An entertaining story from Bear Lake of course comes from Mason. Mason does not have many fears but dogs and water are the most prominent. I wasn't worried about a stray poodle jumping out of the bushes at Bear Lake but I was worried about the swimming pool. For a few years now Mason will just skirt around the edge of the pool but never get in. He might stick his feet in but that is if he is handcuffed to me and the key is in his pocket. Ok- I am exaggerating but you get my point. Day one- Tylie jumps out of the car and immediately starts tearing our bag apart trying to find her swimsuit. Mason acts like he has never heard of a swimming suit. A few hours in, Mason is convinced to at least put on the swimming suit and hang out on the side of the pool. After some bribing- Brad gets him in the pool, off the steps as long as he feels that Brad maintains his death tight grip. Day two- I hear Brad and Tyler trying to convince Mason to go down the slide. He continues to resist. I decide that it is time to conquer my own fears of wearing a swimming suit in order to help my son overcome his. So with that, we marched down to the pool with Mason not realizing what his mother was about to do to him. I understand that kids have fears but water will not be one of them. Not my kids. I don't want them to find themselves in a situation and panic and end up drowning themselves unnecessarily. I knew that Mason felt comfortable with Brad so I let him spend the first 30 minutes with him floating around and feeling secure. Then came time to take control. I grabbed him, told him he was going to jump off the edge to me, and threw him out of the water. That is when the tears started and I thought he was going to turn that pool into a salt water pool. He could not pull himself together. No matter how high I held me arms, how many treats I offered, or how many times I counted to three- he was not going to do it. As a side note- please understand that I am not a horrible mother. Mason had so many floatation devices strapped on that the kid could practically walk on water. He had a life vest, arm floaties, a noodle, and a ring. RIDICULOUS! I was starting to wonder if he would go any deeper than his toes when he actually did jump. After so much pleading I had enough. "Brad- Just go shove him in." Brad studies my face to see if I'm serious. "Really???" "Yup- Shove him. I am his mom. He has to forgive me. Do it!" Brad nonchalantly climbs out of the pool. Suddenly Mason is flying through the air with enough terror on his face to satisfy any horror film junkie. About half way down he got a big grin on his face. When he hit the water and figured out that I actually would catch him- he immediately jumped out to do it again. Then came the slide- over and over again. Finally sticking his face in the water and floating around all by himself. It was a sense of freedom he had not experienced and he was so proud. I was so proud. Finally. Maybe next year will be the dogs. Brad- see what you can do about getting a huge pit bull to sit outside the condo. After all- you said it yourself. "Why not- you only live once!" Thanks Curtis's. We had a blast. Love you.<br />
<div class="separator" style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none; clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgUrw1eMJQh7TDL1VIeBempvsbCcp2uNTieeK_TkERuosWywSAY7cHTDNN0W4_ElOeT5pNvb-ZnxInns7R5TUS2e9I0-OS_gTGQh3l6WDKJi2lqnD9wMqb03ZdHwUH9DSegBCc-ggv8RdHg/s1600/bear+lake4.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" rca="true" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgUrw1eMJQh7TDL1VIeBempvsbCcp2uNTieeK_TkERuosWywSAY7cHTDNN0W4_ElOeT5pNvb-ZnxInns7R5TUS2e9I0-OS_gTGQh3l6WDKJi2lqnD9wMqb03ZdHwUH9DSegBCc-ggv8RdHg/s320/bear+lake4.JPG" width="239" /></a><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgZG9DGzBMgfNx6n1t4XZSOkPcxOOejufhaKo79bmOv6TX05GXgyVOBXWTwdD6N8EDwgCQ23cEhfbqPMfMo0NBpp8PJ-FmlDd2eg7-yq5MC2ZueNVzvE93SfTuk7jskYgHJcnlhVTfckh_Q/s1600/bear+lake2.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" rca="true" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgZG9DGzBMgfNx6n1t4XZSOkPcxOOejufhaKo79bmOv6TX05GXgyVOBXWTwdD6N8EDwgCQ23cEhfbqPMfMo0NBpp8PJ-FmlDd2eg7-yq5MC2ZueNVzvE93SfTuk7jskYgHJcnlhVTfckh_Q/s320/bear+lake2.JPG" width="239" /></a></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgpcBIqZXLEc8YosV_wEoXEI_NiyagV7qn6GKPG3P33JpGKo1nj02EDJZS-lTTrSBMe9TaQF2ceQmGwLGBN6D4dHQI-onEUYeHrdrNNGhMU6mXcgHE1jYw0a0kxMF6BM_vhXMz9GV5Kx-xa/s1600/bear+lake5.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" rca="true" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgpcBIqZXLEc8YosV_wEoXEI_NiyagV7qn6GKPG3P33JpGKo1nj02EDJZS-lTTrSBMe9TaQF2ceQmGwLGBN6D4dHQI-onEUYeHrdrNNGhMU6mXcgHE1jYw0a0kxMF6BM_vhXMz9GV5Kx-xa/s320/bear+lake5.JPG" width="239" /></a></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEifOe3hbsIa8a7JlBom2-XlN8DR8B6yZXCj5rYjwQqUZ9zLs6azgQgJ7br53aUaAp71QKrvHtXlv0LQ3pYpXvjhq_8nIU04U5GdOFiMvXB_z1TNUCv541dlizdUJJqOgwiXQXw7f1QT6JwX/s1600/bear+lake.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" rca="true" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEifOe3hbsIa8a7JlBom2-XlN8DR8B6yZXCj5rYjwQqUZ9zLs6azgQgJ7br53aUaAp71QKrvHtXlv0LQ3pYpXvjhq_8nIU04U5GdOFiMvXB_z1TNUCv541dlizdUJJqOgwiXQXw7f1QT6JwX/s320/bear+lake.JPG" width="239" /></a></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhjfLYNzyrslOBMkakdrRnr2HWOwWsSgT091qAtIsTYAfY6-Ixkqe6QY0zWwAXFpiGNbg2AvodAz793XRQumFYyWQZVgTNrLtBs4Sm741IrVB36FNkyBox8PxQAWxaKtjCPSQT_FBAlNGzN/s1600/bear+lake3.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" rca="true" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhjfLYNzyrslOBMkakdrRnr2HWOwWsSgT091qAtIsTYAfY6-Ixkqe6QY0zWwAXFpiGNbg2AvodAz793XRQumFYyWQZVgTNrLtBs4Sm741IrVB36FNkyBox8PxQAWxaKtjCPSQT_FBAlNGzN/s320/bear+lake3.JPG" width="239" /></a></div>Andreahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15919937546200472988noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2186500479321505474.post-2440298185835171652012-05-25T14:53:00.002-07:002012-05-25T14:53:41.493-07:00ParentingToday Tylie brought home a paper from school requesting that every parent get online and take a parenting survey for the school psychologist. Tylie was adamant that I get on ASAP because the class with the most surveys taken gets a rootbeer float party on the last day of school. Great. Add it to the "to-do" list. While both the boys were sleeping on snuck downstairs to take the survey. I wanted to make sure that I wasn't the parent that stopped the kids from ending their school year on a major sugar high.<br />
I looked over the paper that was sent home and it was very clear that they wanted the questions answered on an individual basis. They wanted to know specifically about the child that attends the school. OK- Whatever. I thought this was all little overly dramatic. As the survey began I was slightly shocked. I thought it would be something about how I felt the school year went and where I believe Tylie to be on a progressive scale. This was not at all the case. It was a survey all about me and my parenting style. It was asking questions about what type of parent I believe myself to be. Authoritarian, authoritative, passive, etc. It asked what I do when my child throws a tantrum in public. It questioned how often I react without thinking or on impulse and how often I felt bad after I disciplined my child. With each question that I answered I couldn't help but think "I am so grateful this survey is about Tylie and not Mason!" I shutter to think about answering those questions honestly about Mason. I would probably have DCFS knocking on my door within 24 hours. I realize how different of a parent I am with Tylie vs. Mason. Tylie allows me to think through things before I react. Her problems are usually sneaky or after the fact. Tylie tattles on herself more often than not and it allows me to go back and fix things. Mason requires me to react like an A bomb. For example... Today after lunch I was sitting on the couch as Tylie showed me all of her end of the year project she got to bring home. Mason was supposed to be finishing his lunch and Cade was munching on his fruit puffs. Suddenly I hear a gagging sound and Mason reprimanding Cade for not eating his lunch. As I whipped around I see Mason shoving an entire chicken nugget in Cade's mouth and getting mad because Cade was trying to launch it back out. Did I act calmly and give Mason a warning to stop? NO! Did I gently guide him to the steps and tell him actions were inappropriate? Absolutely not. I snatched him before he even realized I had gotten off the couch. I swept out Cade's mouth to ensure he would be alive when I got back and marched Mason right to the stairs. I threw him on those stairs and walked away so I could gather my strength before beating him. OK, not really. But I had to walk away because I wanted to throw him out the door and deadbolt it. I get so frustrated, mostly because we have talked about him not feeding Cade everyday for about 4 months now and the thick-skull won't let it sink in. There must be something missing in the part of his brain that retains information. It is the same place that is supposed to hold the information about not going in the road or running in front of cars. That seems to get lost overnight no matter how many times he is grounded from his bike. I imagine that one day when I am dead and gone, my kids will be sitting around and genuinely start to wonder if the really had the same mom because I have to parent them so differently. My hope is that Tylie will look back and appreciate all those talks we had. She may even be able to recall a few. And I hope that Mason is sitting there with her. That means he made it or that he won the battle and I just died first. Either way- he will be there. I know that I will still love him then, I just have to make sure he knows it.Andreahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15919937546200472988noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2186500479321505474.post-73007822552160425002012-05-23T14:01:00.003-07:002012-05-23T14:01:29.325-07:00Kelsey, you win!Ok Kelsey. You win. Both the boys are alseep. Tylie is playing with a friend. My phone is set on silent and the office door is closed so I can't see the mess I am ignoring in the family room. I am sitting down at my computer and I am updating this dang blog. You are right. My book is going to be really small this year. I can't help it. My days seem to slip away from me lately. Just when I think I have a few moments to myself the Mason is bounding back from preschool and it is a short day for Tylie and she is home at 11:45. I can't claim that Cade is the problem. He is such an easy going baby. If I can't just keep Mason out of his face, he is as quiet as can be. I don't want to commit to being better about updating because I know what is ahead of me. Summer. Kids home ALL day and me trying to keep everyone happy ALL day. I will do my best though and I can promise the highlights. Our trip to D.C. will definately be on here. Bear Lake, Lagoon, Vegas, the Red Rock Relay ( 19 miles- what am I thinking?!), and Cade's cute face as often as I get it on here. <br />
Tylie and Mason "graduated" this week. I can't believe that Tylie is done with Kindergarten. It feels like just yesterday that I was holding back tears as she was jumping on the bus for the first time. Mason "graduated" from preschool. He did joy school this year with some of the kids in the neighborhood. As happy as I was that he graduated, I was more relieved to see all of the other kids graduating with him. That was a sign that he didn't kill them and they were all still alive to be standing next to him. It was the best thing in the world for him. He loved it and it really got him passed the anxiety of being away from me. I have learned so much about Mason this year. I have learned that no matter how much of a demon I think he is, he really is just a boy. A little crazy but a boy all the same. I have come to a firm belief that he really doesn't want to kill me, he just wants me to loosen up a bit and let him explore. I have learned that no activity that I can give him indoors will dull the innate desire he has to be outside. He just wants to walk around. I hate it because he doesn't understand boundaries so I am looking like a crazed psycho searching for him everytime I hear my front door click. I swear the kid has rocket boosters hidden in his butt! He can make incredible distance in the time it takes me to load one more plate in the diswasher and run after him. It is going to be a long summer. <br />
<div style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none;">
As a side note. I am thinking of making my blog private. After years of Jake hounding me about it, I think it is time. I went to a PTA convention a few weeks ago and I realized how incredibly easy it is for people to find information on your kids. I have forced myself not to go too extreme and throw every computer we have away but I do think private is a good idea. As much as I don't think there are any creepy people stalking my kids, I just don't want to make it easy for them if they do. So... here comes the cliche phrase. Send me your email. I will make it official soon. Please do not feel shy about it. I have felt weird sometimes and not sent some friends my email and now I am sad because I can't keep up with them. I love you. I love that you want to read what is going on in our world. I love to hear from you. I just don't want to hear from George in the state penitentiary. You get my drift. This will make Jake happy. This will make my kids safe, and so I will be happy. I hope to hear from you soon.</div>
<div style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none;">
In the meantime... here are some shots from "graduation". </div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://picasaweb.google.com/105671517777024524040/2012052303#5745836397969433106" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" qba="true" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi8b2nr13ZF3nxFnvPVJ4F1-YG_Vbban_YRHnElfhv64S7zSL4KVRf4MnWWeOkObMDLO9I4ojjgnOsA3ky1L63HHwr495C4h9J8lsaKqMTuTMAUi6hDYvFH7wKBnsqW1ENaRFSTDb46srT2/s320/mason1.JPG" width="239" /></a></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://picasaweb.google.com/105671517777024524040/2012052303#5745836552787191842" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" qba="true" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjW3RXWoiWE2rCnYA0Ql22P-rEBc3taGtIg9cLukX4LpyKE-wPxRUMl0EaCF9QfPSrl6VdKFkTlXDTQjSdLLBvWW-i-Rp8vr7ZesrTpr7UvaSpZSaWwflDUEQSOBeI2NMs7X-fjG2aqlroj/s320/cade1.JPG" width="239" /></a></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<img border="0" height="320" qba="true" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhKdFZ7g0Sqo45BZOm0krXCBHaNJ4Sal-Ch1HjFyhUtcR56hrT2mkyDnsGx34ca1dHoRsw624t5Gn5jKKO02RHLyFN2vT0VAv-AstoSF94CpWPZYEM3M2hqpRtauKNCQkfGvO3TfLJh2fXx/s320/100_5283.JPG" width="213" /></div>Andreahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15919937546200472988noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2186500479321505474.post-78983734678598526182012-04-13T11:03:00.002-07:002012-04-13T11:14:21.936-07:00<p>It is moments like this that stop me in my tracks and remind me how much I love being a mom.</p><br /><p><br /><iframe allowfullscreen='allowfullscreen' webkitallowfullscreen='webkitallowfullscreen' mozallowfullscreen='mozallowfullscreen' width='321' height='264' src='https://www.blogger.com/video.g?token=AD6v5dzsmEWi8blSjWQZvkPYH4BKAkxvD9Ji3yotZoYgdnDl1AJQv1Rlgx4ROMe-8fKV0PiX6nUUTD-16Sa_17Rm4A' class='b-hbp-video b-uploaded' frameborder='0'></iframe></p>Andreahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15919937546200472988noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2186500479321505474.post-43984152558481108062012-02-15T15:20:00.000-08:002012-02-15T16:21:38.443-08:00Valentine's DayI hate to join the thousands of other pessimists throughout the nation but I must for just a moment. I have to say it. I am not a fan of Valentine's Day. I know this is somewhat strange because I am happily married with a husband that loves me and makes sure that I know it. I think my objections with the holiday stem from feelings that have stayed with me from growing up. I just remember the immense pressure that came with the holiday. Allow me to take you back to Monte Vista elementary with me to some of my earliest memories of this stressful holiday.<br />I remember every February our teacher would stand up and announce that we had to make a Valentine box and bring to school for the Valentine party. It was always a big deal to try to come up with an idea that hadn't been done before. My brother Chad would always come up with these fantastic boxes and I would be left at the table amid construction paper, pipe cleaner, and pom poms with not an idea in the world. My mom would eventually have pity on me and come to the rescue. I specifically remember making a box that looked like a gum ball machine. Incidentially the idea came from Chad because my mom had forced him to sit down and help me. We toiled over it and by the time it was done I was as proud as a grandma at a preschool program. I was so excited to show all my friends that I had finally come up with something worth putting their cute little cards in. When I got to school some idiot kid pushed me getting off the bus and my box smashed into the railing. It was all crumpled and although I tried to fix it, it was permanently scarred. Really not a big deal but to my elementary mind- the world had ended.<br />Then came the pressure about who got the card saying "Have a rockin' Valentines" versus the card that said "You rock my world!" I would spend hours in my room trying to decide what boys had to get the "gross" cards and pray that they did not read too far into the message. I couldn't stand the fact that they might think that I loved them. DISGUSTING! I wish I would have known that boys that age probably did not even realize that card was from me. The most attention they gave my card was long enough to rip off the sucker that was attached and throw the rest away. This was very UNLIKE me because I would absorb every message on every card and go to school the next day sure that every boy in class was in love with me. PRESSURE.<br />Fast forward to South Jordan Middle School and the introduction of candy grams and roses delivered to your home room class. This was a whole new set of stresses. The beginning of February the class officers would sell the silly love sentiments every lunch hour. I would always stress about if I should send one to my friend just in case she didn't get one. I didn't want her to feel bad. But then what about my other friend. And the other one. Where would I draw the line. By the end I was trying to convince my mom to take out a second mortgage on the home so I could make sure all of my friends felt loved. And then what about me? What it nobody sent me one? Or what if they did? And what if it was from and actual boy? And what if he actually liked me? AGHHHH. By the time the day came I would sit in home room class like I was sitting on a family of porcupines. I was so nervous that I would be the only loser that didn't get one. I was nervous that I would get one from a boy and then never be able to walk down the hall where his locker was again! PRESSURE!<br />Moving on to high school and the introduction of dating. And I thought the candy grams were pressure. They didn't touch this dating crap. At my school the Valentines dance was always girls choice. I hated this because I didn't like putting myself out there to be rejected. It did take the anxiety of not being asked away but I still would cringe at the thought of asking a boy and finding out the he had already been asked a few hours before. This was torture. It got a bit better when I had a boyfriend and it was just assumed that I would ask him. But that security could only last a time and so the rest of high school found me floundering every stinking February. PRESSURE!<br />And finally- the post high school years. I thought I would like these years because it afforded me the ability to hide out in my house and nobody would ever know that I spent Valentines eating my mom's sugar cookies and watching "The Commish" with my dad. But then I would get asked out. Great! Right? NO! When you are out of school and you are asked out on Valentines- it suddenly <em>means </em>something. Jake was on his mission and I was hoping him to return and still kind of like me so I was not really looking for a Valentine's date. I would struggle with the choice of going as to not make him feel bad or not go and make things awkward. What it really came down to was that it was going to be awakward no matter what road I took. PRESSURE!<br />So here I am. Married with three kids and I still have a distaste for Valentines day. Jake was cute and brought me a little gift and my all time favorite choclate covered cinnamon bears. The pressure returned when I realized that my little box of goodies that I got him did not measure up to his token of love to me.<br />As I reflect on this dreadful day, I have come to a few conclusions. First- I was far too concerned about what everybody thought about me when I was growing up. I needed to chill. Thank the heavens that I don't ever have to go back to those years. Second- Jake doesn't need a grand gift to know that I love him- a steak dinner will do the trick. And third- I look to Jake's dad for this. He always says that he doesn't need a special day to tell his wife he loves her and he doesn't need society telling him that he had to say it on a certain day. I agree. It means so much more when I am sitting at home and Jake calls just because he saw an ad on his computer that reminded him of me. It is nice when it comes "just because" and not "just because I was forced to."<br />To all you lovers out there- hope you had a great lover's day. I will continue to work on my adverse feelings toward the holiday and I will be better and telling Jake I love him the other 364 days of the year.Andreahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15919937546200472988noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2186500479321505474.post-85827924656089729372012-02-13T16:01:00.000-08:002012-02-13T16:20:47.376-08:00GuiltI have felt guilty lately. Not because of anything that is going horribly wrong in my life. Actually, it is quite the opposite. I have felt guilty because of this little one.<br /><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg-5BJ9PL3-iCOfiWcxiORgPP4xLM3pWhxq7TUVRxLUFJFRbpfbOHZ578ZNY-p_236BU3PKi9ppw1iEuabIPYSOcyjEmp9eKe4bUW7_qzPpozn2q-iKtloCaaXeGYm0QeWcT3pjGOm6hoss/s1600/cade.JPG"><img style="WIDTH: 239px; HEIGHT: 320px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5708774948327457282" border="0" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg-5BJ9PL3-iCOfiWcxiORgPP4xLM3pWhxq7TUVRxLUFJFRbpfbOHZ578ZNY-p_236BU3PKi9ppw1iEuabIPYSOcyjEmp9eKe4bUW7_qzPpozn2q-iKtloCaaXeGYm0QeWcT3pjGOm6hoss/s320/cade.JPG" /></a><br />He is just too patient and easy. I keep telling myself that Heavenly Father understands my struggles with Mason so he sent me an angel to restore my faith in boys. As many times as I repeat this in my head though, it doesn't change the pit in my stomach when I walk past <span id="SPELLING_ERROR_0" class="blsp-spelling-error">Cade</span> and he gives me a big grin and I rush on by.<br />Mason has started a little preschool with some of the kids in the neighborhood. It is nothing too formal but just a time for him to get out and interact with some other kids. This has been a blessing from heaven for me. I anxiously look forward to Mondays and Wednesdays because I know I will have a two hour block of time with <span id="SPELLING_ERROR_1" class="blsp-spelling-error">Tylie</span> in school and Mason at his preschool. <span id="SPELLING_ERROR_2" class="blsp-spelling-error">Cade</span> is often asleep during this time but there are times that he isn't. I lay him on the couch or in his swing and he patiently stares at the ceiling until I walk by. He will give me a big grin and then allow me to continue cleaning the house without making a peep. He doesn't demand much attention. The two other kids will burst through the door when my two hours are up and <span id="SPELLING_ERROR_3" class="blsp-spelling-error">Cade</span> will continue to wait patiently while they tell me about every person that sneezed and every knee that was scraped in the last two hours. By the time I finish making lunch, doing homework, and sweeping the floor I realize that <span id="SPELLING_ERROR_4" class="blsp-spelling-error">Cade</span> is still there in the same spot. I pick him up and play with him as long as I can until Mason spills apple juice all over the table and I am pulled away to clean up the sticky mess.<br />I feel like I am neglecting him in a way. I feel like I should be toting him around where ever I go but he allows me to put him down and so I do. I don't want him to have the third child syndrome. I don't want him to think he was just thrown onto the pile and forgotten. I want him to have just as much love as the other two. And he does- I just have less time to give it to him. I am not sure how to balance this. I do love the two hours we have together alone though. There is something very special when it is just him and I. He is my little sweetheart. I could do 10 kids if they were all like him. OK- I am getting carried away. But, he makes me love being a mom. He is a joy right now. As I am writing this I am picturing myself in the future. Sitting in my living room reading these words remembering that he was a good child one time. He will probably be up in his room screaming and kicking demanding a new kind of attention. It will be good for me to remember these times. After all- Mason was an incredibly mild baby until about a year. Then he flipped a switch on me. For now I will feel this guilt. I will try to internalize it for later. And I will enjoy having a wonderful baby. Chances are the next one will not be like this!Andreahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15919937546200472988noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2186500479321505474.post-85247491442116780532012-01-26T13:01:00.000-08:002012-01-26T13:17:03.131-08:00Choocack<span id="SPELLING_ERROR_0" class="blsp-spelling-error">Choocack</span>. Yup. <span id="SPELLING_ERROR_1" class="blsp-spelling-error">Choocack</span>. Say it just like it's spelled. <br /><div>It is 2 for 2 now with my kids. It seems that whenever I have a baby my children come up with imaginary friends. I guess it is just their way of coping with the dramatic change. With <span id="SPELLING_ERROR_2" class="blsp-spelling-error">Tylie</span> it was "pink baby" that appeared. Now with Mason it is "<span id="SPELLING_ERROR_3" class="blsp-spelling-error">Choocack</span>". He showed up about 2 months ago. It took me some time to figure out but now I am really enjoying our new friend. He gives Mason someone to talk to when I am feeding <span id="SPELLING_ERROR_4" class="blsp-spelling-error">Cade</span>. He love to eat breakfast with Mason in the morning. He enjoys long naps with Mason in the afternoon and makes it easy for mom to sneak out because <span id="SPELLING_ERROR_5" class="blsp-spelling-error">choocack</span> is there so Mason doesn't feel alone. He also likes to get into a lot of mischief with Mason. Whenever there is a huge crash and I go rushing into the room, it is always <span id="SPELLING_ERROR_6" class="blsp-spelling-error">choocack's</span> fault. That darn <span id="SPELLING_ERROR_7" class="blsp-spelling-error">choocack</span> likes to rip toilet paper off the rolls, dump a gallon of milk off the table, throw toys at <span id="SPELLING_ERROR_8" class="blsp-spelling-error">Cade</span>, and sneak treats out of the pantry. He is <span id="SPELLING_ERROR_9" class="blsp-spelling-corrected">definitely</span> much more trouble than pink baby ever was. I have enjoyed having him around though. I remember when pink baby left and never came back. It was a sad day for me. I just try to make <span id="SPELLING_ERROR_10" class="blsp-spelling-error">choocack</span> feel comfortable until he feels like it is his time to leave. And then I will anxiously await for <span id="SPELLING_ERROR_11" class="blsp-spelling-error">Cade's</span> "friend" to show up. It is times like this that I really love to be a mom.</div><br /><div><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj6jDmYJInVaMIbBWbw0CkJSl283cFgkzw_x_ydiVMz_CiwnMVOQtVRuiwSgyG8_fkei5yndG_9hlfRQOvFVcWhbwt9LJjaWwhH2apz-ara77LHCNKBYeYobL_0jFiHhoGEwA1pbAewIUbA/s1600/photo.JPG"><img style="WIDTH: 239px; HEIGHT: 320px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5702052601324518002" border="0" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj6jDmYJInVaMIbBWbw0CkJSl283cFgkzw_x_ydiVMz_CiwnMVOQtVRuiwSgyG8_fkei5yndG_9hlfRQOvFVcWhbwt9LJjaWwhH2apz-ara77LHCNKBYeYobL_0jFiHhoGEwA1pbAewIUbA/s320/photo.JPG" /></a></div>Andreahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15919937546200472988noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2186500479321505474.post-8845702324322545032012-01-01T14:36:00.000-08:002012-01-01T15:33:17.279-08:00"I need a place to put the lawnmower. The garage is just too small," Jake tells me. "OK," I replied. This is the phrase that started it all. I didn't think too much about it but that only shows my naivete. By now, after eight years of marriage I should know how my husband operates. He gets an idea in his head and by the time he mentions it to me, he has already put hours of thought into it. If I don't like the idea I better shut it down right away. Once the train leaves the station, there is no turning back. Jake has two speeds when he does a project. Off and light speed. When I didn't hold up the stop sign he took that as a green light to go. A few weeks later he brought it up again. "So where do you want the shed in the backyard?" he asked me. "Huh?" I questioned, "Oh! Are we really doing this?"<br />In my mind's eye I started to envision what he had in mind. This is what I thought would take up residence in my backyard.<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiWTEaQFqhPwDmlV1NRf27LHo_7dz_VjzP0I0bFlDpXrSIABcFQu-UjlydZNybkeNpjhYp7pnRLAgyRj2OYaMVPGjZDTOjtAlL65aBhNBA_6g08yV1aew5yCO650Nm57GSYBQlWNK9VNOMr/s1600/shed.jpg"><img style="WIDTH: 320px; HEIGHT: 293px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5692799274045053826" border="0" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiWTEaQFqhPwDmlV1NRf27LHo_7dz_VjzP0I0bFlDpXrSIABcFQu-UjlydZNybkeNpjhYp7pnRLAgyRj2OYaMVPGjZDTOjtAlL65aBhNBA_6g08yV1aew5yCO650Nm57GSYBQlWNK9VNOMr/s320/shed.jpg" /></a> <br /><div><br /><div>For those of you that know anything about my husband, you are chuckling right now. As time went on, I realized that what I had pictured in my head and what Jake had in his were vastly different. My first clue came when he asked me what chunk of patio we should take out. Then he wondered what window we should block. He then came up with the idea of having a "small" clubhouse in the top for the kids to play in. The vision in my mind had to change a bit.</div><br /><div><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhrXLhODU_AZqhFcsZQlcpSKEhET9cAnq3D9GWqTQyIUNiyrlCvG-8decwlvggUfQc8rWpj__HjWTDTvKN1V5canNbV6M1viNUzrUJVVo0gcRZg4XVsY6MKSWhmXxBMUKF8YmQODMDf2n6Q/s1600/shed+2.jpg"><img style="WIDTH: 320px; HEIGHT: 240px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5692802472123402946" border="0" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhrXLhODU_AZqhFcsZQlcpSKEhET9cAnq3D9GWqTQyIUNiyrlCvG-8decwlvggUfQc8rWpj__HjWTDTvKN1V5canNbV6M1viNUzrUJVVo0gcRZg4XVsY6MKSWhmXxBMUKF8YmQODMDf2n6Q/s320/shed+2.jpg" /></a></div><br /><div>It was when Jake started calling the city and asking about height restrictions that I realized I had completely lost control of the situation. Alas, permits were obtained and construction began. Jake toiled relentlessly. He would rush home at night, shove down some dinner and rush outside to work until he could no longer see in the dark. He spent hours on the computer googling the best products to use. And thanks to us Home Depot had a record breaking year in sales. But I am happy to report that it is complete. Done. Finished! Contrary to what I had pictured, it turned out to be exactly what Jake had in mind.<br /><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiAnCIGFm24MAYmg11DJXNyD9NzSnMPkuNRpi7wmpYLU9nYKq9rpTNJ8m3nRJ0BVMn4WTeVuhRvpjeLNqI42OpBUzHW6JRx3UkVYj4GWgLlp7bepS0Dw4srTAYVRinOEVz1qGRRNARFRuX2/s1600/100_4759.jpg"><img style="WIDTH: 213px; HEIGHT: 320px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5692804421146132466" border="0" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiAnCIGFm24MAYmg11DJXNyD9NzSnMPkuNRpi7wmpYLU9nYKq9rpTNJ8m3nRJ0BVMn4WTeVuhRvpjeLNqI42OpBUzHW6JRx3UkVYj4GWgLlp7bepS0Dw4srTAYVRinOEVz1qGRRNARFRuX2/s320/100_4759.jpg" /></a></div><br /><div>Yup... there it is. The Taj Mahal of sheds that graces my backyard. I give Jake a hard time but I must admit that he did a fantastic job on it. I am proud of him that he carried through on his vision. It is the most elaborate clubhouse I have ever seen. Fully equipped with cable TV, heater, 2 motion detector lights, ceiling fan, carpet, bead board, deck, scalloped siding, and vaulted ceiling (ten feet high!). No, I am not trying to sell a house on the MLS. I know it sounds like it. Please know that I am not bragging. I am the first to admit that he went WAY over the top on this thing. I just want you to see how crazy all this actually is. So, there it is. The saga that has been our life for over a year. I just hope that the kids love it as much as he does and it is put to good use. We are off to a good start though. Santa loved it so much that he moved our tree up there on Christmas Eve and we celebrated there. </div><br /><div><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjuS7UZqDnRe50gpifSvJP8_GzTmIqin_VEobqMpP3hyphenhyphenr8HzAYmNp8_h0Pmy5QssSL4-c2PEOVJV-nvhXpMxOhloWW2TaipU1XJUFD0MNnNGLWkZ_ARHLcX56P1OySUTwnfIOcQY_3xuszD/s1600/IMG_0840.jpg"><img style="WIDTH: 320px; HEIGHT: 239px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5692807186349246834" border="0" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjuS7UZqDnRe50gpifSvJP8_GzTmIqin_VEobqMpP3hyphenhyphenr8HzAYmNp8_h0Pmy5QssSL4-c2PEOVJV-nvhXpMxOhloWW2TaipU1XJUFD0MNnNGLWkZ_ARHLcX56P1OySUTwnfIOcQY_3xuszD/s320/IMG_0840.jpg" /></a></div><br /><div>There is one tiny little fact that I must share with you though. A fact that makes me laugh and sob in the same moment. I was getting the kids out of the car the other day and I tripped over something as I was headed into the house. When I looked down I couldn't help but laugh at the irony. I tripped over the lawnmower. Yup... that's right. The lawnmower is still resting peacefully in the garage. </div></div>Andreahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15919937546200472988noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2186500479321505474.post-44399085540191666152011-12-14T15:03:00.000-08:002011-12-14T16:04:59.636-08:00A walk down memory lane....I turn thirty tomorrow. I am having a hard time with this one. Thirty. 3-0. 10,950 days. 262,800 hours. You get my point. A really long time. I feel old. I am no longer the "young adult" or the "newly wed" or even the "young mommy". Nope. I am the "experienced mom" (yeah right!) with three kids. I am in mid life. I am supposed to know what I am doing by now. All of these thoughts have me hyperventilating a bit. I am just not ready to be thirty. I just seems too grown up. Much more grown up then I feel. Anyway... with my birthday quickly approaching it was ironic for my parents to find an old chest of mine high up in their garage last week. They thought it was some old Christmas decorations and pulled it down. When my dad showed it to me, I kind of laughed and told him to throw it away. It was just a bunch of junk I had lived without for ten years and not missed at all. He refused and put the dusty old thing in the back of my car and sent me on my way. When I got home I started to sort through it, I learned a few things about myself.<br />First- I used to be a ridiculous pack rat! I found crap in there that you wouldn't even see on an episode of "Hoarders." I found ticket stubs, choir program pamphlets, tie dyed boxers, and about a million red pencils to mark my scriptures. None of them were sharpened. What does that say about me? I couldn't believe how I had saved every <span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_0">knick</span> knack from Disneyland to girls camp. I had enough boondoggle in that box to supply summer camps for ten years. And why did I really think I needed to remember the exact date, time, and theatre of the five times I saw Titanic? Who knows but I can prove to you that I did see it five times because I have every ticket stub. And I can tell you who I saw it with. No, I don't have that great of a memory. I can tell you because I even went so far as to write it on the stub- every name of every friend that I went with! Pathetic! <span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_1">Embarrassing</span>!<br />Anyway... Amid all the crap I did find a few golden nuggets that I feel I must share with you. Please note that this is bearing some of my most <span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_2">vulnerable</span> and awkward stages in life. Go ahead and laugh, I did. Just keep your judgements to yourself.<br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj71_wvrvD2bfT_ZHTh6cB-Qpk_KGZ5ue04xo1_HUuMrJk_xz0vEbmYo6f6Yrz23YL3ldCLZzmVHPXOQz0p7TZMFj1LixNw9VhWkCNFvf-SMwScwn108-lURCaNInbBLFTRsu844FBAbdNy/s1600/photo.JPG"><img style="cursor: pointer; width: 239px; height: 320px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj71_wvrvD2bfT_ZHTh6cB-Qpk_KGZ5ue04xo1_HUuMrJk_xz0vEbmYo6f6Yrz23YL3ldCLZzmVHPXOQz0p7TZMFj1LixNw9VhWkCNFvf-SMwScwn108-lURCaNInbBLFTRsu844FBAbdNy/s320/photo.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5686126577388549330" border="0" /></a><br />First- The <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_3">Wilfardo</span> hat. This little beauty was given to each grandchild when we had a family reunion in Disneyland. I believe I was about 10 at the time. You could see about 30 of these babies running around Disneyland that whole week. My mom's hat, however, rarely strayed far from "It's a small world." She claimed that it was the only ride that Mark and Josh liked but it turned out that it was really her favorite ride. My favorite part about these hats were that they were all personalized. I am grandchild number 6- obviously.<br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEggH_BeiT75FRSTPKfB2JeUzymEHZ3AuSoZ36f872yzRG6q71EPSdwKwZSFzE2OUSx6uZ8tdte3WuctQlbsLsGSdn47648V9UGKn52ScBnGmmFDHRlOWf_DDdd9gFrkoL2QQjkssUqYyT09/s1600/scan11.jpg"><img style="cursor: pointer; width: 267px; height: 320px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEggH_BeiT75FRSTPKfB2JeUzymEHZ3AuSoZ36f872yzRG6q71EPSdwKwZSFzE2OUSx6uZ8tdte3WuctQlbsLsGSdn47648V9UGKn52ScBnGmmFDHRlOWf_DDdd9gFrkoL2QQjkssUqYyT09/s320/scan11.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5686124202640674882" border="0" /></a><br /><span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_4">Ahhhh</span>... the classic mall photo booth. I particularly like this pic because it highlight the enormous zit protruding off my face. This was my weak spot on my face. I think I had a consecutive zit in that exact spot for a solid ten years.<br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhrwOW0eEWPmtXXZ2Z-xQtJZqnkElBjD_nVb86w-0HkP_ec-b5YWfrtvndcyQV6mTDLRfnmoCi9R70qNnFFRSdIv21s5zLFgVxZvkoZAOgFL9VczorFbfz_IkPk-ORfta2BgSTRtf50RMUC/s1600/scan3.jpg"><img style="cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 183px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhrwOW0eEWPmtXXZ2Z-xQtJZqnkElBjD_nVb86w-0HkP_ec-b5YWfrtvndcyQV6mTDLRfnmoCi9R70qNnFFRSdIv21s5zLFgVxZvkoZAOgFL9VczorFbfz_IkPk-ORfta2BgSTRtf50RMUC/s320/scan3.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5686123714750627090" border="0" /></a><br />This is from the previously mentioned trip to Disneyland. My parents had given me a camera and of course I had to bring it on the trip. I really thought I was some kind of grand photographer. I found numerous pictures from this trip in that box. This one just made me laugh. I can just picture me, ten years old, demanding that all my siblings pose for a shot in front of the fountain. I am sure that they thought I was a complete moron but I appreciate their tolerance of me. Except for Chad, he is obviously not thrilled about the shot. Actually, now that I look closer at the picture, none of them are really participating. Except Brittany. Thanks Britt- I can always count on you.<br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgz0PkXJgKIIw3RZJVxmXvrCe02aV-5CA2GwQlaQXJpj91kBTlh_kKCJ0fJPtl5i9wMAzVt-t2Gh-8t6-bDU7qrfGcS718xB4huFuY_CNtZd_NG1J2fC0SIb3f3wQ_JLtMax34Y5YXBO0pZ/s1600/scan2.jpg"><img style="cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 229px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgz0PkXJgKIIw3RZJVxmXvrCe02aV-5CA2GwQlaQXJpj91kBTlh_kKCJ0fJPtl5i9wMAzVt-t2Gh-8t6-bDU7qrfGcS718xB4huFuY_CNtZd_NG1J2fC0SIb3f3wQ_JLtMax34Y5YXBO0pZ/s320/scan2.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5686123710211671122" border="0" /></a><br />This is from an annual trip with my cousins that Chad and I went on. We would go kayaking down the Green River. I have many fond memories of these trips. Things like truly wondering if diet coke was an actual food group and wondering why Chad is dumb enough to go off a waterfall standing up in his kayak. This is also where my jealousy of my cousin Erica began. She would always have the cutest kayak and oar because she was so darn crafty and would paint expertly. The jealousy continues to this day as I sit in my house toiling over how to tie a cellophane bag and she is creating grand centerpieces out of toilet paper rolls and tootsie roll wrappers. And yes, Erica, that is you in the background with your perfect tan!<br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiAnUBntZqNEarD41UyH54GTmIxixsHv1waKv0ZPGfJgNgtNj43IZAofI2uXjUtVOJ3Bb95Wb4K5D2V6rhkGwb-JXTg0YUg4YeEygtFUMkKV8CZwf49iB7L8HniAyOfhkDWatn6LpZ_-an3/s1600/scan1.jpg"><img style="cursor: pointer; width: 228px; height: 320px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiAnUBntZqNEarD41UyH54GTmIxixsHv1waKv0ZPGfJgNgtNj43IZAofI2uXjUtVOJ3Bb95Wb4K5D2V6rhkGwb-JXTg0YUg4YeEygtFUMkKV8CZwf49iB7L8HniAyOfhkDWatn6LpZ_-an3/s320/scan1.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5686123712149947362" border="0" /></a><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiJF__8K9fOslbJCW45nVcoqP1QIID5glqXstrIRpEwzHD-PJWPuL7XHIQ-gOEDxU4wgOTNVLoXKcScySdRg1DdXU-m1lLcv9kOGdjyXshkYYM8KAQTihcuFcdT3TkjeZD_ew8GEB5GcAEI/s1600/scan4.jpg"><img style="cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 227px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiJF__8K9fOslbJCW45nVcoqP1QIID5glqXstrIRpEwzHD-PJWPuL7XHIQ-gOEDxU4wgOTNVLoXKcScySdRg1DdXU-m1lLcv9kOGdjyXshkYYM8KAQTihcuFcdT3TkjeZD_ew8GEB5GcAEI/s320/scan4.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5686123727806244674" border="0" /></a><br />The classic group shot every school year. My friends and I were a photographers dream when it came to picture day. We would spend hours coordinating what to wear, who would be in the picture, and what pose to be in. It consumed us for weeks before that actual day. I would always order the best package because I was sure that I needed at least 4- 8x10's and as many wallets as they would shove in that envelope. These pictures would adorn my locker the whole year and then were taken down and put in that lovely box for me to find 15 years later.<br />And finally, these were probably my favorite thing in that whole box. My grandparents birthday cards. These are true treasures. My grandma has always made our cards on her computer. They have definitely evolved over the years but they have always had a special message right from them to me. They started out without any color.<br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjTPvbhEsQ0SPTeQMy5pdNSR5TEvq-Pi0OrbymSnuc44Jh_cNQ_Jpdv9ZtFEzcF0wreZsh20NmKm5lNhSTGgckMH-jzdawNDqxgRkXx_TtKH_XqEbf88JcKRGzbVWHzjf_xFCppi6V_Z25r/s1600/scan5.jpg"><img style="cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 242px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjTPvbhEsQ0SPTeQMy5pdNSR5TEvq-Pi0OrbymSnuc44Jh_cNQ_Jpdv9ZtFEzcF0wreZsh20NmKm5lNhSTGgckMH-jzdawNDqxgRkXx_TtKH_XqEbf88JcKRGzbVWHzjf_xFCppi6V_Z25r/s320/scan5.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5686123739305573954" border="0" /></a><br />A few years later, color ink came in.<br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhOr1XcxPBK33-x-Kyj0VSRqxHrS5PYlEHqG4u7tsoKFL3mLFNUfALhH93GyYaziy6YuIzyNa0BWFHojZ1GzWCboL_Xn3If16zhP_KUk15Ev2mA9gCCfT2mILuu5IquU2VdDKB6l-GuduC6/s1600/scan6.jpg"><img style="cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 250px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhOr1XcxPBK33-x-Kyj0VSRqxHrS5PYlEHqG4u7tsoKFL3mLFNUfALhH93GyYaziy6YuIzyNa0BWFHojZ1GzWCboL_Xn3If16zhP_KUk15Ev2mA9gCCfT2mILuu5IquU2VdDKB6l-GuduC6/s320/scan6.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5686123925239699090" border="0" /></a><br />Then technology caught up with my Grandma and she was able to start putting pictures in them.<br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh6Uky5W6bI7Nzbu0Lkuxv69O5mxs9qwY7sZFjeUfB_YajA4VZVt2aluLKz4LCecxk9SUN9ndmmNOHnlMamQQPdcX-brTOCNq5Q2vyKbcUcNoMibaSmEqDpjbC2-a75aX89r4aYTJzg5oIE/s1600/scan7.jpg"><img style="cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 209px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh6Uky5W6bI7Nzbu0Lkuxv69O5mxs9qwY7sZFjeUfB_YajA4VZVt2aluLKz4LCecxk9SUN9ndmmNOHnlMamQQPdcX-brTOCNq5Q2vyKbcUcNoMibaSmEqDpjbC2-a75aX89r4aYTJzg5oIE/s320/scan7.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5686123931439240818" border="0" /></a><br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhvzLajV5Vn4ETK46L0LuXx9P_L1Kz1mX8Yd1uxfT2GGGpyzjUTFgLPonB2QZUCIttN02z5Y7IgQRNbAybL23yBGl6JtZSg6PaBc3JCvfAg8dOJB5gw6XyL30W4-A-TirZxNjI0wjpYeXgV/s1600/scan8.jpg"><img style="cursor: pointer; width: 237px; height: 320px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhvzLajV5Vn4ETK46L0LuXx9P_L1Kz1mX8Yd1uxfT2GGGpyzjUTFgLPonB2QZUCIttN02z5Y7IgQRNbAybL23yBGl6JtZSg6PaBc3JCvfAg8dOJB5gw6XyL30W4-A-TirZxNjI0wjpYeXgV/s320/scan8.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5686123944621437874" border="0" /></a><br />And this is what we have today. I was given my card on Sunday at my birthday dinner and I was just as excited to get it as I am every year. Time has not changed that. I look forward to seeing what pictures are in there. I love to read what they have written to me. And I love that I get to add another card to my collection. I know that one day these cards will stop. But they haven't yet. Thank you grandma for the constant effort that you put into these. I want you to know that we recognize that it is a lot of work to do cards for six kids (and their spouses), 33 grandchildren (and their spouses), and 23 great grandchildren. You are truly amazing and we love and treasure those cards.<br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjqhMg6Of9fOtnPJ-RMIAtp-nrRWwY5vabjgfe-9xooMIa9Jfl2uO9-MpkJqqJP4nVqBo8bLOUeFJBlHWTA3ysnQPA-lHPN8o2Kl0tQIlaVbkDY-hlHuTxzPWXjYUObRAqm20a6khjZdDeY/s1600/scan9.jpg"><img style="cursor: pointer; width: 200px; height: 320px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjqhMg6Of9fOtnPJ-RMIAtp-nrRWwY5vabjgfe-9xooMIa9Jfl2uO9-MpkJqqJP4nVqBo8bLOUeFJBlHWTA3ysnQPA-lHPN8o2Kl0tQIlaVbkDY-hlHuTxzPWXjYUObRAqm20a6khjZdDeY/s320/scan9.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5686123947892351282" border="0" /></a><br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh0QelIa9rS4e5qIrAfJqgTLcZIzGWc2KW3cHY87ERUHFBnkb3VIH8UWv3O_EjkmYhSuprCOq0u5IKsl_4J57rAcXhUC8Hd9RlLqKm8uZ_vQ9dNoSXjWjC7C35cVWSZuzWFtfKteNh5t6Dx/s1600/scan10.jpg"><img style="cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 260px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh0QelIa9rS4e5qIrAfJqgTLcZIzGWc2KW3cHY87ERUHFBnkb3VIH8UWv3O_EjkmYhSuprCOq0u5IKsl_4J57rAcXhUC8Hd9RlLqKm8uZ_vQ9dNoSXjWjC7C35cVWSZuzWFtfKteNh5t6Dx/s320/scan10.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5686124195575133202" border="0" /></a><br />Well... thank you for walking down memory lane with me. It makes me feel a little better. I am grateful to be out of the awkward zit stage. I am grateful to have siblings that tolerate my ridiculousness. I am grateful that I have survived thirty years and am relatively normal. ( It's all relative, right?) Here's to another thirty years worth of memories!Andreahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15919937546200472988noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2186500479321505474.post-41088259815489889382011-12-06T16:07:00.000-08:002011-12-06T16:25:42.614-08:00It's time<div><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjYyKCRWXnIjZ1mDC6duLzb9dOscfEiVKTyyuQAFA3Quy-Kfrzfd11DkO3ruL9xN13dk6qjKEv82qhA11uY9PIhdHkEc0r_HcEoIjxzaAJ_RItZlyCpQxTMVZosSpNEAJy-lpNwBuoaiwMN/s1600/shoes.JPG"><img style="WIDTH: 239px; HEIGHT: 320px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5683172207912639282" border="0" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjYyKCRWXnIjZ1mDC6duLzb9dOscfEiVKTyyuQAFA3Quy-Kfrzfd11DkO3ruL9xN13dk6qjKEv82qhA11uY9PIhdHkEc0r_HcEoIjxzaAJ_RItZlyCpQxTMVZosSpNEAJy-lpNwBuoaiwMN/s320/shoes.JPG" /></a> </div><br /><div>My six week <span id="SPELLING_ERROR_0" class="blsp-spelling-corrected">sabbatical</span> is up. I am healed from <span id="SPELLING_ERROR_1" class="blsp-spelling-error">Cade's</span> delivery and I have no more excuses. For weeks I have looked solemnly into the mirror at my five double chins but could do nothing about it. With my other two pregnancies, the weight seemingly melted off after delivery. With this one, however, it is clinging to me like a fat kid clings to a <span id="SPELLING_ERROR_2" class="blsp-spelling-corrected">Twinkie</span>. I weigh myself every morning but the scale has not budged. I even began to question if it was working properly until I put <span id="SPELLING_ERROR_3" class="blsp-spelling-error">Tylie</span> on it and realized it worked just fine. So...with all that said, I made a choice a few days ago. I got my fat butt off the couch, put the Butterfingers down and strapped on the ole' running shoes. I turned on the treadmill and after a few creaks and complaints of not being used for months, we became good friends again. It felt good to run again. It felt good to push myself (even if it was only for three miles!). It just felt good to be able to move! I am going to do another 1/2 marathon with my sister in June. I better get moving. I can't wait to get the extra poundage off that I am carrying around. I don't want it to seem like I am complaining to much though. I am happy to be a mama again. I just want to be a smaller mama than I am now. But, no matter what, this is what I got out of it.</div><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiRRTVLnb8-JaNuN-MIpG7KAdGuIklnJ9BkVioNainr5M0pQRafjhdc8KM6slS77fAynNeKm-ZZSrM83DXFoCE_nKf6bPjuWDGeBOh41BrMixoOoVUgDjlJlck02xzl7t0VDTVEwbMwpx-N/s1600/photo.JPG"><img style="WIDTH: 240px; HEIGHT: 320px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5683175767055652002" border="0" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiRRTVLnb8-JaNuN-MIpG7KAdGuIklnJ9BkVioNainr5M0pQRafjhdc8KM6slS77fAynNeKm-ZZSrM83DXFoCE_nKf6bPjuWDGeBOh41BrMixoOoVUgDjlJlck02xzl7t0VDTVEwbMwpx-N/s320/photo.JPG" /></a><br /><br /><div>It is worth it, even the 5 extra chins!</div>Andreahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15919937546200472988noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2186500479321505474.post-70686366816256649682011-11-29T20:11:00.001-08:002011-11-29T21:21:51.475-08:00What a weekend!This last weekend was crazy family fun! Full of Thanksgiving feasts, seeing the new Twilight movie ( which was disappointing to say the least!), Black Friday shopping, Baptisms, baby blessings, and a long nap on Sunday. So, with all that going on, it is only fitting that I post all the pics to go along with the excitement!<br /><br /><div><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjwtTXPmF67r-cvX9-SydPnHTsAEnYjkJ_WkTNekPepqjjQEEsXCrJset4HTAM5nA0hjcJHQpS_aNzymbotuouK0q_w5Pjqkfd6IINBMP3dFlBGVNptiOMnE8N-G7mGi7q9pSjaw5oKO257/s1600/100_4867.JPG"><img style="WIDTH: 320px; HEIGHT: 213px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5680651936621803010" border="0" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjwtTXPmF67r-cvX9-SydPnHTsAEnYjkJ_WkTNekPepqjjQEEsXCrJset4HTAM5nA0hjcJHQpS_aNzymbotuouK0q_w5Pjqkfd6IINBMP3dFlBGVNptiOMnE8N-G7mGi7q9pSjaw5oKO257/s320/100_4867.JPG" /></a><br /><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjw09cRzIsCfEcz6v4vNF6NsIVgHmQVQc9VpycIJ3dzt6c7Q7wof_TV_dokwbSck4n37XQAuebHm9JWovnTUncKq7z7sDlY_KJIfoKGb3eoQj9SGs60xcdSgmDCehIvumrR1b_XJ8_yi8os/s1600/100_4871.JPG"><img style="WIDTH: 320px; HEIGHT: 213px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5680651927978086770" border="0" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjw09cRzIsCfEcz6v4vNF6NsIVgHmQVQc9VpycIJ3dzt6c7Q7wof_TV_dokwbSck4n37XQAuebHm9JWovnTUncKq7z7sDlY_KJIfoKGb3eoQj9SGs60xcdSgmDCehIvumrR1b_XJ8_yi8os/s320/100_4871.JPG" /></a><br />I love this picture of Dylan! He is just such a cute sleeper!<br /><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg6fEpd9PIFxIrRxYt3ESYVVDWPVLI6JpxEwwcyMmrjMN14g8xbc_5IRbcZe2RErv4efyiQz8u_qgEZ3jiu2cpxtLEolgcM_xO3YQZJG-oSzdqtvUNZvPK9yAq2bznrUk2XFT33_yVY2tCt/s1600/100_4873.JPG"><img style="WIDTH: 213px; HEIGHT: 320px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5680651924478076066" border="0" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg6fEpd9PIFxIrRxYt3ESYVVDWPVLI6JpxEwwcyMmrjMN14g8xbc_5IRbcZe2RErv4efyiQz8u_qgEZ3jiu2cpxtLEolgcM_xO3YQZJG-oSzdqtvUNZvPK9yAq2bznrUk2XFT33_yVY2tCt/s320/100_4873.JPG" /></a><br />Poor Ayden wanted out so bad! He sat at that window and solemnly watched the kids play outside.<br /><br /><div><br /><div><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEirbUqNqEtG7PkLdMEW_aUiDewvGK7tX5iMhhl2Kej4_w4nOWVCKFwymIfwQCGfULSvCKS2URmmQiuIH0yy1kTCUYKMi6_ogMhlmVbONf7Ysua3LUshs7Zi_5LDNg-yPGnUmraT4IwgtFfa/s1600/100_4875.JPG"><img style="WIDTH: 213px; HEIGHT: 320px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5680651471104021218" border="0" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEirbUqNqEtG7PkLdMEW_aUiDewvGK7tX5iMhhl2Kej4_w4nOWVCKFwymIfwQCGfULSvCKS2URmmQiuIH0yy1kTCUYKMi6_ogMhlmVbONf7Ysua3LUshs7Zi_5LDNg-yPGnUmraT4IwgtFfa/s320/100_4875.JPG" /></a><br /><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjNtcAUinmn7mB_wecoxt2aSCQRoHM-YcSmWRTlL1dtivsot5bHnaLddzrTSOu6QOrBocc7YLOcvpn4oH8BBjTvWMWSYZeK1Xt5UfbQoon-6B9HpAN052_Vvd80axV1aVu0ujfD1rx9l5HK/s1600/100_4880.JPG"><img style="WIDTH: 320px; HEIGHT: 213px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5680651452438733970" border="0" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjNtcAUinmn7mB_wecoxt2aSCQRoHM-YcSmWRTlL1dtivsot5bHnaLddzrTSOu6QOrBocc7YLOcvpn4oH8BBjTvWMWSYZeK1Xt5UfbQoon-6B9HpAN052_Vvd80axV1aVu0ujfD1rx9l5HK/s320/100_4880.JPG" /></a><br /><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi0S60AkiAIcHCMoaeKR0hIcR2_Te_uMJRgN3WC4Ce_iOUPoFJ6mVvyGvqmtf8E5G5Ak64J47QmgUAj2bQYgryG55iC6z-jpQndTWiJF5t9S1aw0H9363-QjJ8HNYbL3R01mILDuO4OWTxq/s1600/100_4881.JPG"><img style="WIDTH: 213px; HEIGHT: 320px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5680651444843882242" border="0" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi0S60AkiAIcHCMoaeKR0hIcR2_Te_uMJRgN3WC4Ce_iOUPoFJ6mVvyGvqmtf8E5G5Ak64J47QmgUAj2bQYgryG55iC6z-jpQndTWiJF5t9S1aw0H9363-QjJ8HNYbL3R01mILDuO4OWTxq/s320/100_4881.JPG" /></a><br /><br /><div><br /><div><br /><div><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEibfYstKAYk9vMNBWUKYUcHmA_yuYyD4O1heHxLwiEZPjnAthoz9gn6TEwgUXO8TCKgAGEdif_3nu54jgWh6rA6yf-Ix9t32iN8DuSt41EiKsmA4WKHThNSR8XVXuvdYAeF3zKpSl8cgCNc/s1600/100_4885.JPG"><img style="WIDTH: 213px; HEIGHT: 320px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5680651442565607842" border="0" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEibfYstKAYk9vMNBWUKYUcHmA_yuYyD4O1heHxLwiEZPjnAthoz9gn6TEwgUXO8TCKgAGEdif_3nu54jgWh6rA6yf-Ix9t32iN8DuSt41EiKsmA4WKHThNSR8XVXuvdYAeF3zKpSl8cgCNc/s320/100_4885.JPG" /></a><br />Mason is planning out his black friday shopping.<br /><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjl3Q-wpUD8YloyPJycIOZQDXm_ut-7hZeeSAtzWcjjek-8MzKgN6jYnj7EElHdem4f5SkbaUE2DAP58JCt4d_Gzl02IhPAyt6OPHa4J4adpbpqK_WQQ9p2YNUMhs9oQ9iMSAZgu7-54Kd-/s1600/100_4886.JPG"><img style="WIDTH: 213px; HEIGHT: 320px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5680651438483276178" border="0" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjl3Q-wpUD8YloyPJycIOZQDXm_ut-7hZeeSAtzWcjjek-8MzKgN6jYnj7EElHdem4f5SkbaUE2DAP58JCt4d_Gzl02IhPAyt6OPHa4J4adpbpqK_WQQ9p2YNUMhs9oQ9iMSAZgu7-54Kd-/s320/100_4886.JPG" /></a><br />Ema's baptism<br /><br /><div><br /><div><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjUN79fjIpSdJZ7cAkrhpxxAbWVUdoalqFrC9zM7B18MsFezRNZt9xktuYDqNZ1bwzyLeyjNy9FrF8m0ouvykeK1DJV6q6I7MGAjvRAeieuqZh0cX3OkfHs_ZjXFZ3Gl0mIM7zv3gcGvsRx/s1600/100_4899.JPG"><img style="WIDTH: 320px; HEIGHT: 213px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5680644384327793922" border="0" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjUN79fjIpSdJZ7cAkrhpxxAbWVUdoalqFrC9zM7B18MsFezRNZt9xktuYDqNZ1bwzyLeyjNy9FrF8m0ouvykeK1DJV6q6I7MGAjvRAeieuqZh0cX3OkfHs_ZjXFZ3Gl0mIM7zv3gcGvsRx/s320/100_4899.JPG" /></a><br /><br /><div><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgsatfArHSbiO2DThK-jrZBXCyVhfCCnkkf81pVntX0EK4Dl_mkEvS3WQ6mq2ugH7v5gexqTX9_0efcKvv78EPmvtj74iNY2pxI3giMxS2SRCnJsi1XraLcHJ8TW7OFr6bIoaoxqXD7rPWx/s1600/100_4895.JPG"><img style="WIDTH: 213px; HEIGHT: 320px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5680644365729036034" border="0" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgsatfArHSbiO2DThK-jrZBXCyVhfCCnkkf81pVntX0EK4Dl_mkEvS3WQ6mq2ugH7v5gexqTX9_0efcKvv78EPmvtj74iNY2pxI3giMxS2SRCnJsi1XraLcHJ8TW7OFr6bIoaoxqXD7rPWx/s320/100_4895.JPG" /></a><br /><br /><div><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgGmbdq_gs8iCebtfU6oQSubZjnnyHEGopLQ4yqRE8nQQ_sXWA0cUMswnwqRORFxzq6L5tp9cDTb4w_Z0yI_Dm9ZOPMoBeVXM14LB3tcQYNqepqX3qUyEofdKkr4tJaunbomPSMk3QPb0HW/s1600/100_4891.JPG"><img style="WIDTH: 213px; HEIGHT: 320px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5680644364120772450" border="0" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgGmbdq_gs8iCebtfU6oQSubZjnnyHEGopLQ4yqRE8nQQ_sXWA0cUMswnwqRORFxzq6L5tp9cDTb4w_Z0yI_Dm9ZOPMoBeVXM14LB3tcQYNqepqX3qUyEofdKkr4tJaunbomPSMk3QPb0HW/s320/100_4891.JPG" /></a><br /><br /><div><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgV99uqhxURUFpEyP4HeQgdxujqxVo-ZQGksceBLtP5jFvWJ5YxX_QIMjt5Bk-iQC1ksIvFCuZ4KD0jkcHI4vE6Rqt334bust1lBdLwunuSJrVXmtPpHSAkSIU6-tm8LWPwfVWWaSoCo3MS/s1600/100_4889.JPG"><img style="WIDTH: 213px; HEIGHT: 320px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5680644362206486194" border="0" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgV99uqhxURUFpEyP4HeQgdxujqxVo-ZQGksceBLtP5jFvWJ5YxX_QIMjt5Bk-iQC1ksIvFCuZ4KD0jkcHI4vE6Rqt334bust1lBdLwunuSJrVXmtPpHSAkSIU6-tm8LWPwfVWWaSoCo3MS/s320/100_4889.JPG" /></a></div><br /><div>Ayden and Dylan's baby blessings</div><br /><div><br /><div><br /><div><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiET2hGPc8zOmbsL1RFFEPVqajIPbxW7SJtrx58Ie_kvrLpV1GatzggUHqU3sjGUI2vgaqLLBHTG0ZV8pxllQRoWGgr2Xg5YLD6plczQB3Q-FG_MDiDOq6F91OneUNpHrdoAm80QsftPM2C/s1600/100_4903.JPG"><img style="WIDTH: 320px; HEIGHT: 213px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5680642714782597266" border="0" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiET2hGPc8zOmbsL1RFFEPVqajIPbxW7SJtrx58Ie_kvrLpV1GatzggUHqU3sjGUI2vgaqLLBHTG0ZV8pxllQRoWGgr2Xg5YLD6plczQB3Q-FG_MDiDOq6F91OneUNpHrdoAm80QsftPM2C/s320/100_4903.JPG" /></a><br /><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgSH41td7UgTzlMBzfihHB1h8VlYobZZzPppnyTIA9ubN3Cwa1ehBPgJvWu51KXoldHi7RtR87uvnUek0RpBq2MhUT3XUSBOYwHPPZ_6b48jgOkhN4cbfPOd26RLzsyW8tnCyVqyZDrlTr5/s1600/100_4908.JPG"><img style="WIDTH: 213px; HEIGHT: 320px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5680642711294383330" border="0" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgSH41td7UgTzlMBzfihHB1h8VlYobZZzPppnyTIA9ubN3Cwa1ehBPgJvWu51KXoldHi7RtR87uvnUek0RpBq2MhUT3XUSBOYwHPPZ_6b48jgOkhN4cbfPOd26RLzsyW8tnCyVqyZDrlTr5/s320/100_4908.JPG" /></a><br />All three girls with all three boys.</div><br /><div><br /><div><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhrU4ssnULnRhcRGQm2N6OxFrPD4reZEk5uthPSkZ4SKp8tZi20hMXyBmo6SjxynUNERj40pbn1eJuQwZ49LQ4RBPmUaoRijI_9FiXLcaIr4hd1eErkwct4kOsl_5sTVEGQYiF6MWEctI2u/s1600/100_4919.JPG"><img style="WIDTH: 320px; HEIGHT: 213px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5680641639642407826" border="0" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhrU4ssnULnRhcRGQm2N6OxFrPD4reZEk5uthPSkZ4SKp8tZi20hMXyBmo6SjxynUNERj40pbn1eJuQwZ49LQ4RBPmUaoRijI_9FiXLcaIr4hd1eErkwct4kOsl_5sTVEGQYiF6MWEctI2u/s320/100_4919.JPG" /></a> </div></div></div></div></div></div></div></div></div></div></div></div></div></div>Andreahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15919937546200472988noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2186500479321505474.post-21942289710252868632011-11-22T09:24:00.000-08:002011-11-28T14:34:25.344-08:00WorthlessThe other night Jake's sister, Valene, and I decided to whip up some homemade shakes. I had done this many times when I was younger and found myself reminiscing about Sunday nights with my siblings. We would make a mess as we created <span id="SPELLING_ERROR_0" class="blsp-spelling-corrected">chocolate</span> chip shakes but we loved it. One thing stood out though. It was always impossible to get the blender to mix them right. It would pulverize the bottom but leave huge chunks of ice cream on the top. I would have to jam a wooden spoon down in the mixture several times trying to get everything broken up and by the time I was done I would end up with <span id="SPELLING_ERROR_1" class="blsp-spelling-corrected">chocolate</span> chip soup on the bottom and random whole chips through out the shake.<br /><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj5FGNEzd8xOW1JGgLxGCyzuT1HjptqJo4jOke-ZCU499fMYNqcNGFmUouoOgiu0CHymtrONCYe8v2sregqpXVWiga6q93WOlcE19F3tQvu4E6f2PGoGE1NRIq91ZwwqZpH2uOUhNUBqhde/s1600/blender.JPG"><img style="WIDTH: 239px; HEIGHT: 320px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5677873422128782130" border="0" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj5FGNEzd8xOW1JGgLxGCyzuT1HjptqJo4jOke-ZCU499fMYNqcNGFmUouoOgiu0CHymtrONCYe8v2sregqpXVWiga6q93WOlcE19F3tQvu4E6f2PGoGE1NRIq91ZwwqZpH2uOUhNUBqhde/s320/blender.JPG" /></a><br />The other night, we set about to solve this problem and decided to try my food processor instead. Genius! It whipped it up so fast! It made perfectly thick smooth shakes with evenly dispersed chocolate goodness! I have decided that the blender is completely worthless. I have tried to <span id="SPELLING_ERROR_2" class="blsp-spelling-corrected">convince</span> myself that it is good for something but I cannot come up with one thing. Everything that I have thought of can be accomplished just as good, if not better, with the food processor. I love that I have found a fabulous way of making shakes! I don't love what those shakes are going to do to my hips!<br /><br />We had a wonderful Thanksgiving weekend full of food, black friday shopping, baptisms and baby blessings. Hope your holiday was wonderful as well. I will try to post pics soon.Andreahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15919937546200472988noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2186500479321505474.post-88804117269172608302011-11-16T12:09:00.000-08:002011-11-16T12:37:31.429-08:00Lately, every time I log on to <span id="SPELLING_ERROR_0" class="blsp-spelling-error">facebook</span> there is always someone that is ringing in on their attitude about Christmas pushing out Thanksgiving. The <span id="SPELLING_ERROR_1" class="blsp-spelling-corrected">opinions</span> vary from disgust at the stores for "decking their halls" in November to giddiness that Christmas music is in the rotation at the radio stations. I have watched the comments on such posts and they can become very animated as people express their opinions. As I read and consider these battles, I find myself in a very strange place. One that I am not used to. I find myself without an opinion. I have tried to pick a side but it comes down to the fact that I really just don't care. Yes, I recognize the fact that Thanksgiving is often downplayed by Christmas. Yes, I see that Thanksgiving is completely skipped over by most retails giants. No, I don't put Christmas decorations up until after Thanksgiving. BUT- I don't get disgusted when I see Christmas lights and candy canes gracing the shelves. ( I actually really like buying my first <span id="SPELLING_ERROR_2" class="blsp-spelling-corrected">chocolate</span> orange of the season! ) If someone wants to put up Christmas lights on their house on Nov. 1st- more power to them. I wish my husband would do that. Then I would have <em>some </em>lights on my house for the holiday. I still love Thanksgiving. I love the feel of an overcrowded house with more food than is humanly possible to consume. I love the board games, the movies, and the pies. But I also think we shouldn't get too heated over Christmas entering the scene prematurely. After all- what is Thanksgiving all about? ( I mean other than the day after shopping? ) It is all about being thankful right? And what is Christmas all about? Our Savior's birth. I can't think of much more to be thankful for than His birth. Maybe the solution is to create a new holiday. Or combine the two and do a month long holiday. I am <span id="SPELLING_ERROR_3" class="blsp-spelling-error">ok</span> with that. We can call it <span id="SPELLING_ERROR_4" class="blsp-spelling-error">Christgiving</span> or <span id="SPELLING_ERROR_5" class="blsp-spelling-error">Thankmas</span>. Anyway- until our legislature creates that holiday- deck your halls and stuff your turkey. They are both wonderful holidays with wonderful messages. I just hope we can keep those messages in mind.<br /><br />My friend came and shot some pics of my kids. I just wanted to show you how cute my baby is.<br /><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhpu3bFUQ_ae71p_t-YxnLPJCSuT__9XCj33qcaILvbq3s71hG_oZBRILtxEDX6eNG4g2bi01_IZqLm2zhi1G7WmoAKpZfiBmxTB5L-o0TDw0ZvpYBePBAYyzAC9ehyPT3Mrn3st0ktjy2l/s1600/DSC_0036_2.JPG"><img style="WIDTH: 320px; HEIGHT: 214px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5675689064706270610" border="0" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhpu3bFUQ_ae71p_t-YxnLPJCSuT__9XCj33qcaILvbq3s71hG_oZBRILtxEDX6eNG4g2bi01_IZqLm2zhi1G7WmoAKpZfiBmxTB5L-o0TDw0ZvpYBePBAYyzAC9ehyPT3Mrn3st0ktjy2l/s320/DSC_0036_2.JPG" /></a><br /><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgcnCU0e3Za8B5spuFjb1jpwJyps0-oafAVNnV9B5Ziui6nuNYeyBpKI1ryTdFESLH7LHIeyQ_JKHUJ9YALoTi0tuHi2oW_U9GyiI5RXsCQ3k3piGq2Dht6PBGvN8wjkPRDH0KKiz9Lvnt1/s1600/DSC_0041.JPG"><img style="WIDTH: 320px; HEIGHT: 214px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5675689058594690450" border="0" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgcnCU0e3Za8B5spuFjb1jpwJyps0-oafAVNnV9B5Ziui6nuNYeyBpKI1ryTdFESLH7LHIeyQ_JKHUJ9YALoTi0tuHi2oW_U9GyiI5RXsCQ3k3piGq2Dht6PBGvN8wjkPRDH0KKiz9Lvnt1/s320/DSC_0041.JPG" /></a><br /><br /><br /><br /><div><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjvl9UaNnwmekDN-gg4p770YIqMaJlY1EwKpaJnJKftvlfBhtqgoLhGMoGOnmefyb_gAjPNsc38v_rEg9xQJNR0vNVlRI_dmkzh9Ki_5h_YUtWAXO3csXW2Y-OnKwYnJ7hsZlaTsIexUsZs/s1600/DSC_0035.JPG"><img style="WIDTH: 320px; HEIGHT: 214px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5675689054056199426" border="0" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjvl9UaNnwmekDN-gg4p770YIqMaJlY1EwKpaJnJKftvlfBhtqgoLhGMoGOnmefyb_gAjPNsc38v_rEg9xQJNR0vNVlRI_dmkzh9Ki_5h_YUtWAXO3csXW2Y-OnKwYnJ7hsZlaTsIexUsZs/s320/DSC_0035.JPG" /></a><br /><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi64eXxanVYj2q10k3sytPwXJmlGKL6Ix85WvU32eZ5b5oWcAGqUUeaRGukumBexNgMY8cZ51vyyKCCYx9P97vtZTQjF9d4evRabGUiK__awv4hyTD-B3og1m0floLW58k6RKihIxR8LYHW/s1600/DSC_0024.JPG"><img style="WIDTH: 320px; HEIGHT: 214px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5675689048686703794" border="0" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi64eXxanVYj2q10k3sytPwXJmlGKL6Ix85WvU32eZ5b5oWcAGqUUeaRGukumBexNgMY8cZ51vyyKCCYx9P97vtZTQjF9d4evRabGUiK__awv4hyTD-B3og1m0floLW58k6RKihIxR8LYHW/s320/DSC_0024.JPG" /></a><br /><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgnVKH6onUwOi2whqZPVsYSq2s0yM6Vj7o9mC_3G1haHTmzP8HVSYqU_A-kb_6YMdRdkaJJA3pEgt8FjOTLsVD6MqJv41BIwpm1FJxTh5RcwWpE8hMbzx3_M1k17Td3SsPkcXDkEt1da44x/s1600/DSC_0016.JPG"><img style="WIDTH: 214px; HEIGHT: 320px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5675689046218245746" border="0" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgnVKH6onUwOi2whqZPVsYSq2s0yM6Vj7o9mC_3G1haHTmzP8HVSYqU_A-kb_6YMdRdkaJJA3pEgt8FjOTLsVD6MqJv41BIwpm1FJxTh5RcwWpE8hMbzx3_M1k17Td3SsPkcXDkEt1da44x/s320/DSC_0016.JPG" /></a></div>Andreahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15919937546200472988noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2186500479321505474.post-92155085837449886622011-11-14T15:17:00.000-08:002011-11-14T15:25:28.209-08:00On Saturday I took the kids out to a recital that their cousins were performing in. My nephew Levi really wanted to come to my house after to watch the BYU game and Tylie really wanted to stay in Grantsville to play with her cousins so we did the classic kid swap with plans to meet later that night. Well, the game went longer than normal and it was pretty late to be running all the way out to Grantsville at ten o'clock at night so we sent Levi home with grandpa and Tylie got to have an impromptu sleepover. Sunday morning came and Jake and I found ourselves in church with our kid count back down to two. When sacrament was over I asked Jake if he would take Mason to nursery since I wasn't sure which nursery he was supposed to be in. Our ward has three nurseries and due to bed rest and newborn baby time, I felt confused to where he should be. Jake just looked at me with shock and told me that he didn't know either. "Tylie always takes him and picks him up. I don't have a clue to where to take him." So there we were. The parents in the situation wishing our five year old were there to show us the way. I know that they always say that parents take care of the children and then a time comes when the children take care of the parents. I just didn't expect it to happen this soon.Andreahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15919937546200472988noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2186500479321505474.post-64882924741907239312011-11-07T14:09:00.000-08:002011-11-07T14:23:32.667-08:00Cade's blessingWe blessed Cade yesterday. It was a great day full of lots of family and special moments. There is just something that gets me everytime I see those wonderful men surrounding my baby dressed in white. It is such a selfless act on all of their parts to come and use that preisthood for my child's benefit. Thank you to everyone who came and those who wanted to but couldn't. Sundee, as usual, we missed you. We are excited to see you at Chrsitmas. Britt and Rick, we missed you too. 3 weeks is not much time but my kids are counting down the days that you come and they get to see Dylan again.<br /><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjvwUOvsBfpb_qj63dSFp-pdNMuyhE2Cfj8Q2fFPga-HyR9E2-zaudKsozOpndJGzbKE4Uy9UCD9Sir06EkxMoZtBWi3p7fFh894k9N2LP_2YiJ3Q-7ZDF6ldKNBAANfuQtsemHndGmeGCy/s1600/100_4842.jpg"><img style="WIDTH: 320px; HEIGHT: 213px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5672381129647640514" border="0" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjvwUOvsBfpb_qj63dSFp-pdNMuyhE2Cfj8Q2fFPga-HyR9E2-zaudKsozOpndJGzbKE4Uy9UCD9Sir06EkxMoZtBWi3p7fFh894k9N2LP_2YiJ3Q-7ZDF6ldKNBAANfuQtsemHndGmeGCy/s320/100_4842.jpg" /></a><br /><br /><div><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg9Cfd0wOzFma-9rHysxtw8nEniziI3y9NgBF0kf2WgvHNLGf-_hV-68Xyh354jU6WuWhqIq6UbKnX6AdH_DQ9Xtnu_WJV3jnN8kcNrRRy-SnHpSwtaEMv7n_0vnKws4bDdf4i8hEtVVOt3/s1600/100_4853.jpg"><img style="WIDTH: 213px; HEIGHT: 320px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5672381122546536802" border="0" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg9Cfd0wOzFma-9rHysxtw8nEniziI3y9NgBF0kf2WgvHNLGf-_hV-68Xyh354jU6WuWhqIq6UbKnX6AdH_DQ9Xtnu_WJV3jnN8kcNrRRy-SnHpSwtaEMv7n_0vnKws4bDdf4i8hEtVVOt3/s320/100_4853.jpg" /></a><br /><br /><div><br /><div><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgO4T9o1s9OV-7egUJRsfRanB4umz366ylkToda8MAx0Snd5wHkOXNs6nL3u79p4CwHc3vaQ66QxhIJtA8Pn07EQnctv3JbrgmgMYeTOk9b8yWCvSP5z61k481tEZzP-NU8I9gy4cUtgUrA/s1600/100_4839.jpg"><img style="WIDTH: 320px; HEIGHT: 213px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5672381103164594482" border="0" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgO4T9o1s9OV-7egUJRsfRanB4umz366ylkToda8MAx0Snd5wHkOXNs6nL3u79p4CwHc3vaQ66QxhIJtA8Pn07EQnctv3JbrgmgMYeTOk9b8yWCvSP5z61k481tEZzP-NU8I9gy4cUtgUrA/s320/100_4839.jpg" /></a><br /><br /><div><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhiaDWhx0NQsGst674Fo0Z0ZIAJI9Umg_9jlCHoQsyFJIEVyfrQogqil73DQgq6wuPDru47E0p0Jub91oS7LaVt5f63Dh8fSW82OBBUfGSL3lKna5MQVHNvHtSjWEt0_xKMVlW5dxnP6zso/s1600/100_4850.jpg"><img style="WIDTH: 213px; HEIGHT: 320px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5672381097933998498" border="0" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhiaDWhx0NQsGst674Fo0Z0ZIAJI9Umg_9jlCHoQsyFJIEVyfrQogqil73DQgq6wuPDru47E0p0Jub91oS7LaVt5f63Dh8fSW82OBBUfGSL3lKna5MQVHNvHtSjWEt0_xKMVlW5dxnP6zso/s320/100_4850.jpg" /></a><br /><br /><div><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEieqcjC8ZzE0QUw00YnuAM3SuoZU3WVLWymeKr9tWVa784nZ1Z76pyF88ltod5xaZ2fesW1NdzAbxQt8ohPbLT-LAYzIoBebO5pLEex4IBGKLa8x8seo4zcxinFbht5z3ai5EEiUqy_OEwG/s1600/100_4849.jpg"><img style="WIDTH: 213px; HEIGHT: 320px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5672380307773674242" border="0" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEieqcjC8ZzE0QUw00YnuAM3SuoZU3WVLWymeKr9tWVa784nZ1Z76pyF88ltod5xaZ2fesW1NdzAbxQt8ohPbLT-LAYzIoBebO5pLEex4IBGKLa8x8seo4zcxinFbht5z3ai5EEiUqy_OEwG/s320/100_4849.jpg" /></a><br /><br /><div><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhMUeNA6z4ombrB_1EGplPEGLb0rsMn78Y_FFycM6u7Um1ik1ADDs4ISEsf4YfeqdGEXsQUGpfomUyLyFlRQke5gGW0oOhWdMf_StmZJEFqssvqOfyp-szCebSPszFPKD5ZFx60GIUwXGCg/s1600/100_4848.jpg"><img style="WIDTH: 320px; HEIGHT: 213px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5672380305135600882" border="0" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhMUeNA6z4ombrB_1EGplPEGLb0rsMn78Y_FFycM6u7Um1ik1ADDs4ISEsf4YfeqdGEXsQUGpfomUyLyFlRQke5gGW0oOhWdMf_StmZJEFqssvqOfyp-szCebSPszFPKD5ZFx60GIUwXGCg/s320/100_4848.jpg" /></a><br /><br /><div><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiE_YAAUce-BpE-XvK_gBos3WRB9DBgRwpy3BAUBYnH-PFwD6UGaN90nmJk50NuVOoERRUsKoLhJSsyLEuYgU3UsLHJNpf8RM1N9W7G4chin3HhdT9iKb0khCgXhNYEcKiDxm3M8ZBfPPgg/s1600/100_4845.jpg"><img style="WIDTH: 213px; HEIGHT: 320px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5672380292167927362" border="0" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiE_YAAUce-BpE-XvK_gBos3WRB9DBgRwpy3BAUBYnH-PFwD6UGaN90nmJk50NuVOoERRUsKoLhJSsyLEuYgU3UsLHJNpf8RM1N9W7G4chin3HhdT9iKb0khCgXhNYEcKiDxm3M8ZBfPPgg/s320/100_4845.jpg" /></a><br /><br /><div><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj4EHSbPvJ79lIsARdCbn2Mi-xwEHJv2aftF8qKMqJOHq5fuvbOf3hx4v8i3Lu0-HJer1SRNE5-v5tQaYkf29l7vihBGw1ipvexELJJCcnHqKkr6SoBQM6MaY4aK5Zp8jOqQWBJMzLOS1gL/s1600/100_4841.jpg"><img style="WIDTH: 213px; HEIGHT: 320px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5672380285753106466" border="0" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj4EHSbPvJ79lIsARdCbn2Mi-xwEHJv2aftF8qKMqJOHq5fuvbOf3hx4v8i3Lu0-HJer1SRNE5-v5tQaYkf29l7vihBGw1ipvexELJJCcnHqKkr6SoBQM6MaY4aK5Zp8jOqQWBJMzLOS1gL/s320/100_4841.jpg" /></a><br /><br /><div><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgS3IA8VQdVTuhr6bs61Gym10RDW64j_zuFkF8wKIym1FREE83GY89JTF_bzmyVnKA_Xn4SXwHctpHLv8o0Tj9AtWltBQVvY029Iae50aqTKtEu9BgaUFgMSTAjWnYDitcTqTU61BVqpE1w/s1600/100_4838.jpg"><img style="WIDTH: 320px; HEIGHT: 213px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5672380277534334178" border="0" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgS3IA8VQdVTuhr6bs61Gym10RDW64j_zuFkF8wKIym1FREE83GY89JTF_bzmyVnKA_Xn4SXwHctpHLv8o0Tj9AtWltBQVvY029Iae50aqTKtEu9BgaUFgMSTAjWnYDitcTqTU61BVqpE1w/s320/100_4838.jpg" /></a> </div></div></div></div></div></div></div></div></div>Andreahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15919937546200472988noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2186500479321505474.post-52773950828635289772011-10-21T16:49:00.000-07:002011-11-04T16:56:09.752-07:00What have I become?As I have stated in previous blogs, my football fanaticism has only recently started in recent years. It came with the territory on that day I was all dressed in white and promised myself to Jake forever. In marriage sometimes you do things just because your spouse wants to and that is why I started watching football every Saturday in the fall. It is what Jake and I did when we lived in California and then I, <span id="SPELLING_ERROR_0" class="blsp-spelling-corrected">unexpectedly</span>, began to love the game. I am not claiming that I am an expert but there is just something so fun about sitting <span id="SPELLING_ERROR_1" class="blsp-spelling-corrected">around</span> the TV praying for a hail <span id="SPELLING_ERROR_2" class="blsp-spelling-error">mary</span> with ten seconds left in the game.<br />My addiction started slowly. First, watching the games with Jake. Then I started to watch them without him. Shortly after that I found myself watching games that I wasn't really cheering for either side, I just liked watching the game. Before I knew it, I was part of a Fantasy Football league, following injury reports of players, setting the <span id="SPELLING_ERROR_3" class="blsp-spelling-error">DVR</span> for several games because I was watching another at the same time, and making sure I had the right line up on my team as I was driving to church <span id="SPELLING_ERROR_4" class="blsp-spelling-corrected">Sunday</span> morning. I can say that I do not check my team while I am at church but I will not say that I have not been tempted.<br />The other day I was cleaning up the house and <span id="SPELLING_ERROR_5" class="blsp-spelling-error">Tylie</span> and Mason were in my room watching some cartoons before I made them get dressed for the day. Mason was dancing with the "Little Einsteins" as he always does and inadvertently jumped on the remote control and changed the channel. It changed to ESPN and the were running a highlight reel of the previous weeks football games. As I rounded the corner I heard T<span id="SPELLING_ERROR_6" class="blsp-spelling-error">ylie</span> in a hushed but worried voice talking to Mason. "Hurry, Mason, hurry! Change the channel before mom sees the football!" I couldn't help but ask myself as I laughed behind the wall- "What have I become?"Andreahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15919937546200472988noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2186500479321505474.post-56398031794382354392011-10-19T12:12:00.000-07:002011-10-19T13:14:21.650-07:00Mason is three!<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgaSu0XzKvoYJlS1KmkdUvA5G8M-crbq6zeCbt3etveM-f_w7x2heCAXY0Q3yBEUeTdysxc9ImWPn86r57eP2BgpY2RxLG5V3pllo3mzZsrkLm1hEZyyZ2sXBqWxVbdIFY1JtGsOZzKQ0n2/s1600/100_4704.JPG"><img style="WIDTH: 213px; HEIGHT: 320px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5665297920743801410" border="0" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgaSu0XzKvoYJlS1KmkdUvA5G8M-crbq6zeCbt3etveM-f_w7x2heCAXY0Q3yBEUeTdysxc9ImWPn86r57eP2BgpY2RxLG5V3pllo3mzZsrkLm1hEZyyZ2sXBqWxVbdIFY1JtGsOZzKQ0n2/s320/100_4704.JPG" /></a><br /><br /><div><br /><div><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiQMOYagM5B0GaK6SDNwVMjZuzhcM7taqFO3yvoF8kRjyFda9ixM3asF_J6y0GrPSFV7y-scYAefthcNWua8964TYiNWqbT6sVb58ZQpXddY1FgGc0iwO-PGJdkYwzgeE9QLZmXw_NUCFVv/s1600/100_4688.JPG"><img style="WIDTH: 213px; HEIGHT: 320px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5665297909523213586" border="0" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiQMOYagM5B0GaK6SDNwVMjZuzhcM7taqFO3yvoF8kRjyFda9ixM3asF_J6y0GrPSFV7y-scYAefthcNWua8964TYiNWqbT6sVb58ZQpXddY1FgGc0iwO-PGJdkYwzgeE9QLZmXw_NUCFVv/s320/100_4688.JPG" /></a><br /><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjERz9hfpcd0MqG7VUF1lVEJo67e2eOCxx-hpGAnVFr4M6PnH5TmBlHyAEq_oJ9jEXHteGUh7TxJyIkwwve6MW-FbzSYvrWhdcIpE6xdzR5HOr4t5unWSZ8YW785tVPqyKumrfccbxsKSX2/s1600/100_4695.JPG"><img style="WIDTH: 213px; HEIGHT: 320px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5665297899922671346" border="0" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjERz9hfpcd0MqG7VUF1lVEJo67e2eOCxx-hpGAnVFr4M6PnH5TmBlHyAEq_oJ9jEXHteGUh7TxJyIkwwve6MW-FbzSYvrWhdcIpE6xdzR5HOr4t5unWSZ8YW785tVPqyKumrfccbxsKSX2/s320/100_4695.JPG" /></a><br /><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgRDQvB-FYCrR5wIBG_SnuCz1sFOUv47Db12OUwgRqk55gmDCL_woTFKa7kiABWhG8BiRjvHc-FLxA6GO5_BM8qWzOTVv9h0aFti29F-Z0_kFMKizgWOjRdkuvfkb_nL_BRlsg9BLc14h76/s1600/100_4697.JPG"><img style="WIDTH: 213px; HEIGHT: 320px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5665297891279068834" border="0" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgRDQvB-FYCrR5wIBG_SnuCz1sFOUv47Db12OUwgRqk55gmDCL_woTFKa7kiABWhG8BiRjvHc-FLxA6GO5_BM8qWzOTVv9h0aFti29F-Z0_kFMKizgWOjRdkuvfkb_nL_BRlsg9BLc14h76/s320/100_4697.JPG" /></a><br /><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiYcf3pEd7FISM6GS4T2rWxiQKjdJQrZ5ZsQlXLVDgmFCIAfm5r-ankws6n9eWLxWMrBxJM6t5dmhNPltmZKkx0Tf3v3koY9PIHjsheG4aZw2c_nOKDbuClmpGye1b5MN2k1Ueky1rE5JKp/s1600/100_4704.JPG"><img style="WIDTH: 213px; HEIGHT: 320px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5665297888799047666" border="0" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiYcf3pEd7FISM6GS4T2rWxiQKjdJQrZ5ZsQlXLVDgmFCIAfm5r-ankws6n9eWLxWMrBxJM6t5dmhNPltmZKkx0Tf3v3koY9PIHjsheG4aZw2c_nOKDbuClmpGye1b5MN2k1Ueky1rE5JKp/s320/100_4704.JPG" /></a><br /><br /><div>Mason turned three on Oct. 2nd. I felt bad because it was the day after we got home from the hospital so I was in no shape to plan a party. Thanks to my wonderful family who made sure that he did not feel forgotten. It was a great day. </div></div></div>Andreahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15919937546200472988noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2186500479321505474.post-40829202837400281842011-10-07T13:44:00.000-07:002011-10-07T13:58:25.561-07:00I don't know if it is the fact that we have a new little baby in the house, or the fact that he just turned 3 on Sunday, or the fact the he is just crazy but this last week Mason has decided to crank up the naughty meter. At first I felt bad for him because I know that his world has been permanently altered with this baby but all sympathy feeling have fled and I am left with exhaustion and frustration. In less than a week he has:<br />* Left the house without my knowledge and wandered to my friends house. Thank goodness she found him and saved him from the elements. I promise to never leave him to brush my teeth again!<br />* Screamed for 45 minutes because I put the frosting on his toaster strudel and he wanted to.<br />* Decided that <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_0">Cade</span> needed to be held while I was in the shower and I found him with <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_1">Cade</span> in a choke hold trying to drag him out of his bed.<br />* Threw sand in <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_2">Tylie's</span> face repeatedly while she sat there and screamed. ( <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_3">Tylie</span> obviously could have ran away but she is always one for a flare of drama!)<br /><br />I could go on but for the sake of his future self esteem, I will stop with the highlights. I feel bad that he is struggling. He is bored. His mom doesn't leave the house because of this new baby. The weather has gone bad so it is hard to be outside. He wants the attention that he is used to getting but now has to split with another little human. I recognize all these things but in the heat of the moments when he is blatantly disobeying me, it is hard to remember why I feel bad for him. He is trying to find his place. His is smashed somewhere in the middle of this family and he is determined not to be forgotten. He is very good at this job.<br />Today he is off at his cousin's house playing for the day. I am so grateful that he can go to a place he loves and I don't have to worry a bit about him. He can expend all that energy and come home and collapse weary from play. Things will settle down and get better. I feel that Mason is, in many ways, a mirror of myself. He is acting out what I feel inside. Things are chaos right now. I never expected the transition from 2 to 3 to be this hard. Once I start to figure things out I am sure that a new routine will fall into place and Mason will calm down. Until then, I pray that the house is still standing at the end of this.Andreahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15919937546200472988noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2186500479321505474.post-83150345865532492042011-10-04T10:21:00.000-07:002011-10-04T10:31:36.182-07:00He is here!I am so happy to announce that my baby boy is finally here. After much anxiety and waiting, he arrived last Thursday. Here are the details-<br /><br />Cade Clay Hancock<br />09/29/2011<br />8 lbs 2.5 ozs<br />21 inches long<br />Born at 4:40 in the afternoon<br /><br />He looks so much like Mason that it is scary. I just kept looking at him and thinking "I have seen this baby before." I am so happy to have him here. He is much more work on the outside but now I can kiss him and hold him so all the work seems easy. It has been a long road but I am finally off this trail of my life. He is here, he is healthy, and Jake and I are happy. Life is good.<br /><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhxcILdE-dLt9USFf5sIGWfMyHDD7x93iU_3tWzbEk0CcE1liXRxTBbdM-uzhLZPMTzNcEAWLcCVbNZ9lM4GKN2_8bdgAYOMwW_OyslQpBEAVdACfPHb7Hdk7V_YwKW8T7DJ7DjKeQYR8e9/s1600/100_4633%255B1%255D"><img style="WIDTH: 213px; HEIGHT: 320px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5659689149681641618" border="0" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhxcILdE-dLt9USFf5sIGWfMyHDD7x93iU_3tWzbEk0CcE1liXRxTBbdM-uzhLZPMTzNcEAWLcCVbNZ9lM4GKN2_8bdgAYOMwW_OyslQpBEAVdACfPHb7Hdk7V_YwKW8T7DJ7DjKeQYR8e9/s320/100_4633%255B1%255D" /></a><br /><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhWnlHV4MtW8u-GNC5loyiYW-Mk3mP-TU3yERZ3hXrBOEibZaNM1gCNz1u2upy4JKlulj6JG7OKkMBSxA_uOeW_Jd_uzpZnIJMojIC3ktRaPzLnpRMzSAv6tO2AUbKhsSkXIbTHz7m-mMkR/s1600/100_4627%255B1%255D"><img style="WIDTH: 320px; HEIGHT: 213px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5659689145251529538" border="0" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhWnlHV4MtW8u-GNC5loyiYW-Mk3mP-TU3yERZ3hXrBOEibZaNM1gCNz1u2upy4JKlulj6JG7OKkMBSxA_uOeW_Jd_uzpZnIJMojIC3ktRaPzLnpRMzSAv6tO2AUbKhsSkXIbTHz7m-mMkR/s320/100_4627%255B1%255D" /></a><br /><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiaA-xLfZrqNojiZgRWgR8LCyOvqOvbjIvQhvepAZIaV26HYuubgEV9W1eGLZxoAznE0TJMXPND_vi4KtakBA6j-Fu2qPrQtz_ET0YhgcNvjiRF_AQ_I4SqbprRdxg2mDb1z9KaXVFhzzr7/s1600/100_4632%255B2%255D"><img style="WIDTH: 320px; HEIGHT: 213px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5659689140431131890" border="0" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiaA-xLfZrqNojiZgRWgR8LCyOvqOvbjIvQhvepAZIaV26HYuubgEV9W1eGLZxoAznE0TJMXPND_vi4KtakBA6j-Fu2qPrQtz_ET0YhgcNvjiRF_AQ_I4SqbprRdxg2mDb1z9KaXVFhzzr7/s320/100_4632%255B2%255D" /></a><br /><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh0D5sl0KRv5dWEgRKIK-P8M4WCC4gVKn21cABzLDTquHNJA7n2xHElz4wlzFKqNcAV4YR47KSCT0Smu-9-PMKNF2jiZDxyjY-oeMHiOFLBWHiYkEndRc-ghtQvA16JYtJgXR80mDwW5vP7/s1600/100_4679%255B1%255D"><img style="WIDTH: 213px; HEIGHT: 320px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5659689132048093234" border="0" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh0D5sl0KRv5dWEgRKIK-P8M4WCC4gVKn21cABzLDTquHNJA7n2xHElz4wlzFKqNcAV4YR47KSCT0Smu-9-PMKNF2jiZDxyjY-oeMHiOFLBWHiYkEndRc-ghtQvA16JYtJgXR80mDwW5vP7/s320/100_4679%255B1%255D" /></a><br /><br /><div><br /><div><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjlt8viFwvUKxIFmPuKHrqJ7ezzqmkpiYNrUqSDAxU6lIUNbUD89WMzpDhzQ4D4lOwT5l08MfOM-3qPZVfjpcz61ndf9DndOVRi5G6hX5DW-Z_ctd06SK8g86Qjl0ifZZVWEpmAroJXLdxR/s1600/100_4680%255B1%255D"><img style="WIDTH: 320px; HEIGHT: 213px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5659689128629147506" border="0" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjlt8viFwvUKxIFmPuKHrqJ7ezzqmkpiYNrUqSDAxU6lIUNbUD89WMzpDhzQ4D4lOwT5l08MfOM-3qPZVfjpcz61ndf9DndOVRi5G6hX5DW-Z_ctd06SK8g86Qjl0ifZZVWEpmAroJXLdxR/s320/100_4680%255B1%255D" /></a></div></div>Andreahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15919937546200472988noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2186500479321505474.post-42255767899729298602011-09-26T12:40:00.000-07:002011-09-26T12:56:55.503-07:00IronyEight solid weeks of <span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_0">bed rest</span>. Blessings, fasting, and prayers pleading with the heavens that this baby will stay in until he is strong enough to survive on his own. Enough of my tears to fill a bath to bathe my new baby in. Stress, stress, and more stress. Humble and grateful each night that I made it another day. Finally September 1st came and went. Our goal date. The date we had been clawing for. The date that we felt comfortable that he would be fine. And yet, this is what I have...<br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiRgKgSMBOHInMsdFFubR0x5YMS1TP3ygIaY2LGr6fT4sC6oUAn0T9Jg6qAMwYXIqA_dcx64eSDnaJt2MNsQrRzPnPjpMf2_x6OYjO9QztYnT5JMXoIwjvW640APU82W5_NdTOl_eBFPEI5/s1600/bag+pic.htm"><img style="cursor: pointer; width: 240px; height: 320px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiRgKgSMBOHInMsdFFubR0x5YMS1TP3ygIaY2LGr6fT4sC6oUAn0T9Jg6qAMwYXIqA_dcx64eSDnaJt2MNsQrRzPnPjpMf2_x6OYjO9QztYnT5JMXoIwjvW640APU82W5_NdTOl_eBFPEI5/s320/bag+pic.htm" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5656755877265672946" border="0" /></a><br />This picture is symbol of my life right now. My hospital bag. Packed, ready to go. Resting in the car so it will be there at a moments notice in case something happens. But nothing is happening. Nope, nothing. NADA! I am <span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_1">dilated</span> to a three and 100% <span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_2">effaced</span>. I should be lying in a hospital bed with an IV in my arm and an epidural on the way, right? I wish that were the case but I have been in this spot for 3 weeks now with no progress. Ironic? I think so. I have been on my treadmill for 45 minutes a day with no results. I have lost my plug, membranes have been stripped, eaten spicy food and still nothing. Jake and I have been joking that we need to do a blessing reversal somehow. Call off the powers of heaven that have so miraculously held my body where is needs to be. I am 39 weeks and very ready for this baby. I am trying to be patient. I really want to go on my own without being induced. It is really hard living on pins and needles. Where every pain or movement makes me wonder if this is it. Where each night I go to bed wishing that I will wake up in a gush of water knowing that my water broke. I would love to see Jake in a panic to rush to the hospital. He has had it too easy with the past two kids. How much longer can I hold out? How much more patience do I have? We will see....Andreahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15919937546200472988noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2186500479321505474.post-58721008397208937572011-08-30T15:18:00.000-07:002011-08-30T15:52:30.496-07:00It begins...Usually, at night, as Jake and I lie in bed we talk about many things. How work went, what is going on with the kids, the shed Jake is building in the backyard. Last night, however, we had a long talk about something we have never really spoke about before. Last night was different. There was a nervous feeling in the air. Twas the night before kindergarten...
<br />
<br /><div>
<br /><div>
<br /><div>
<br /><div>
<br /><div>We spoke of years flying by. We spoke of our fears for our little girl. How we were feeling like this was the beginning of it all. School lunches, homework, mean girls, tears, parties. The control was no longer ours. This is when we have to start to let go. To hope that the last five years have been enough to build her up when she has to handle a situation on her own. </div>
<br /><div>We woke her up early to prepare. Her backpack was already packed and hanging on the front door. Her clothes laid out neatly on her chair. Camera and video camera waiting patiently on the counter. I did all the a good mom should do. Her hair was put up in her favorite "princess" hair do. Her clothes still stiff from the iron. Shoes so new they were free of creases. She had a good breakfast and dad gave her one last pep talk. Pictures were taken with all her friends as we patiently waited for the bus. It came. She waved goodbye and climbed on board. Then she was gone. </div>
<br /><div>I was holding it together but my baby boy fell apart. He felt so abandoned by his sister and best friend. He wanted desperately to get on the bus with her. He sobbed and sobbed all the way home. I did ok. I was sad but I did better today than I did at pre-school. She was just so happy to go. I can't help but be thrilled when that cute little face is beaming at me through the bus window. All of the crap of growing up will come later but today was a good day. I feel like I climbed a mountain today. Emotions ran high for both Mason and I. Everything turned out well though. The worst part of all of this? I have to do it again tomorrow.
<br /></div>
<br /><div><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj5tJSWhBslwjmAF3UEOhcPnAx5oP00Rmg3KJ0amH_c0guFG6kS0hOP1M3G2MwK1GdFQjEgkQKmjFi4PWIklF6y-HvXJXzbp4EZmdhG-30-XVDSYM-sIHEZd1FuGgW-xzdJ_dcnwwNnZtzR/s1600/100_4477.JPG"><img style="WIDTH: 320px; HEIGHT: 213px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5646783314993491794" border="0" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj5tJSWhBslwjmAF3UEOhcPnAx5oP00Rmg3KJ0amH_c0guFG6kS0hOP1M3G2MwK1GdFQjEgkQKmjFi4PWIklF6y-HvXJXzbp4EZmdhG-30-XVDSYM-sIHEZd1FuGgW-xzdJ_dcnwwNnZtzR/s320/100_4477.JPG" /></a></div>
<br />
<br /><div><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhEtcxyl5Qnb-lnX1NJaBuLXGzVLDbvu3mhs3-V_yp-a4V1VpkWwUv4ie6TNFNTISYtB_onyvHWLZZV5kYM_kOJSjKczZkLyh9R8waA4sGMAZtiuNABFoxf6ODHfQqMfj9PKoeKiEc2bTbf/s1600/100_4478.JPG"><img style="WIDTH: 213px; HEIGHT: 320px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5646783303755026338" border="0" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhEtcxyl5Qnb-lnX1NJaBuLXGzVLDbvu3mhs3-V_yp-a4V1VpkWwUv4ie6TNFNTISYtB_onyvHWLZZV5kYM_kOJSjKczZkLyh9R8waA4sGMAZtiuNABFoxf6ODHfQqMfj9PKoeKiEc2bTbf/s320/100_4478.JPG" /></a></div>
<br />
<br /><div><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjtLqJQSNEvoAZYFOcba9znbpNEWvfmq1M9Z6k6KOB7JQ8oR2jKnp8E81_8aCElS2OsvlWGYVoo3uQpKCf9uhC1PBg0zFrqkUjWW0uj72MygijEehtanOhi7i4Crmt0jdw0esMOv9oTmTQ3/s1600/100_4489.JPG"><img style="WIDTH: 320px; HEIGHT: 213px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5646783308978953250" border="0" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjtLqJQSNEvoAZYFOcba9znbpNEWvfmq1M9Z6k6KOB7JQ8oR2jKnp8E81_8aCElS2OsvlWGYVoo3uQpKCf9uhC1PBg0zFrqkUjWW0uj72MygijEehtanOhi7i4Crmt0jdw0esMOv9oTmTQ3/s320/100_4489.JPG" /></a></div>
<br />
<br /><div><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhqqECDEgZg9belgcL3g4HU8bcoDeKo6a5mfAf7c42MsRe4p5LQu8ze3Vpn65mOuq7tTBCtLA2dPDGuXX0G4xccA1GqGlVwkqR2minM7fMulwDHMeajhRD1ywyhicli08h8tiHe895hRKSi/s1600/100_4491.JPG"><img style="WIDTH: 213px; HEIGHT: 320px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5646783300975598050" border="0" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhqqECDEgZg9belgcL3g4HU8bcoDeKo6a5mfAf7c42MsRe4p5LQu8ze3Vpn65mOuq7tTBCtLA2dPDGuXX0G4xccA1GqGlVwkqR2minM7fMulwDHMeajhRD1ywyhicli08h8tiHe895hRKSi/s320/100_4491.JPG" /></a></div>
<br />
<br /><div><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhNbddYIjywFjP7KAYx4ByIRJU-doTadDdGprBCqzTpcmaQvrnAwmVjOeVVzlzDZvqWd7-Me14j5y4RTspG9y7ODnkbKoLm9plRCjMEQcGWPJ7xeKA_h4wH610hOyKYVFV-TCUtWwbvjUXG/s1600/100_4492.JPG"><img style="WIDTH: 213px; HEIGHT: 320px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5646783296962000034" border="0" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhNbddYIjywFjP7KAYx4ByIRJU-doTadDdGprBCqzTpcmaQvrnAwmVjOeVVzlzDZvqWd7-Me14j5y4RTspG9y7ODnkbKoLm9plRCjMEQcGWPJ7xeKA_h4wH610hOyKYVFV-TCUtWwbvjUXG/s320/100_4492.JPG" /></a></div></div></div></div></div>
<br />Andreahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15919937546200472988noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2186500479321505474.post-10317766357599024812011-08-29T12:51:00.000-07:002011-08-29T13:17:29.380-07:007 weeksHow many parents out there dream of an hour alone. Even ten minutes. Time away from the needs, wants, and tears. I know the feeling all too well. Wishing I could just lay down and close my eyes for a few moments without worrying about a catastrophe waiting to happen.
<br />
<br />As good as this all sounds, I have been at it for seven weeks now and have decided that it is not as glamorous as it seems. It has been hard "checking out" as a mom and handing off my responsibility to everyone around me.
<br />
<br />I am happy to report that the end is in sight. Week after week I have seen the doctor and my progress is still the same. My body has held better than expected and I am very near to 35 weeks. The baby is fine and growing. My doctor told me I could get up after 35 weeks so that has been my magical number all along. I have been slowly working my way back to life. Trying to find the strength in my legs again. I am anticipating going to a store again and shopping for my own groceries. When I was first put on bed rest I was 27 weeks. 35 weeks seemed years away. Now I am at the end and I hope to remember this time once I am fully mobile again. I hope to remember all of the kindness that was so willingly given to us. I hope to remember the gratitude I felt to everyone around me. But most of all, I hope to remember this....
<br />
<br />When this all began, my family held a special fast for me and I was given a blessing. I had faith in the fasting but most of all, I felt support by everyone. I felt buoyed up by everyone else. I struggled to feel much else because I was so concerned about my unborn baby. Worry consumed me. Each day that went by was a blessing and each week was celebrated that my stomach was still full with baby. Last week, while I was at the doctor's, I found myself talking to him about how wonderful it was I made it this far. He expressed to me that he thought I would have the baby within two weeks of being on bed rest. He never imagined I would make it this far. He was so concerned because my cervix measurements had cut in half in a time span of three days and at that rate, I should have a baby about a month old by now. I told him that I had a lot of prayers and blessings in my behalf. He just smiled and said, "Well, we know those work. Just tell Jake no more blessings or we will go to 42 weeks with this baby." We laughed about that but on my way home, the gravity of it all hit me. I hope to never forget how much of a miracle this all has been. My doctor said it best when he said "A few weeks ago you were racing to the finish line and now you have just sat down. Absolutely no progress has been made since." I know that this is not a fluke.My Father in Heaven has watched over me and held my body right where it needed to be. He has blessed me beyond what I could have expected and I hope to never forget it. This baby will come and he will be fine. My faith is stronger than it was seven weeks ago. That has made it all worth it.
<br />Andreahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15919937546200472988noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2186500479321505474.post-17259632068360032772011-07-29T09:35:00.000-07:002011-07-30T10:45:56.826-07:00A good dayI went to the doctor's yesterday for my weekly appointment. I am pleased to report that everything is good. No progress has happened and the baby is still tucked comfortably inside my bulging belly. It was a good day.<br /><br /><br /><br /><div><br /><br /><div><br /><br /><div>There was a moment though, while I was there, that I didn't know if I should laugh or cry. I was having an ultrasound done to find out certain measurements to ensure nothing has progressed. I have had this done several times now and every time the baby is in the way and the poor ultrasound tech has to push him out of the way. Yesterday was no different. He was in the way and she began to try to push him out of the way. He was being <span id="SPELLING_ERROR_0" class="blsp-spelling-corrected">obstinate</span> and with each minute that went by, she pushed harder and harder. She kept apologizing profusely and I kept assuring her that I was fine. After a while though, it began to hurt. I could feel her pushing on my <span style="color:#000000;">sciatic</span> nerve. Finally, she just started to laugh. "You have got to see this," she said. She moved the ultrasound picture high up on my stomach and pointed to the screen. She did this as she continued to push on the baby. "Look!" I would not have believed it if I didn't see it myself. The baby had both feet pinned against my uterus wall and was pushing back! "I don't see this very often," she told me, "Sometimes I can't move them because they are too big but it rarely happens that they fight me like he is." I didn't know if I should laugh or cry. Please tell me that this is not a precursor to his personality. I have been telling myself this baby will be mild and create a middle ground between <span id="SPELLING_ERROR_2" class="blsp-spelling-error">Tylie</span> and Mason. Now I am worried. I hope that he doesn't make Mason look like a kitty cat. I guess we will find out.<br /></div><br /><br /><div>Right now he is good. He is not causing too many problems other than kicking me in the bladder far too often. He is a little too anxious to come but he is obeying for now and for that I am grateful.<br /></div><br /><div>I have said over and over that this one needs a little spunk to defend himself from Mason. Now I am concerned that the tables will turn and Mason will be the one defending. Or maybe the baby was just having a bad day yesterday and was tired of being prodded around. Yes, that's it. It was just a bad day. My mild little one will come. I am sure of it!</div><br /><br /><div>Here are a few pics from my one of my last outing before I got put on bedrest. Fourth of July. We were able to get a parade and BBQ in. Loved it!<br /></div><br /><div><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhrxUQkS8V52VR_C0ARFfODvKibQGdWAIsbpsVJfZZF2nyxkGrPix2uvyYQ6pPew6ugAGlJEphSsCvKHWSivUZzFefXX1gRDhovgWxe2zRNsHbh-M3sY5NEluTdU5rxR4H4L9gffMI50eF-/s1600/100_4370.JPG"><img style="WIDTH: 320px; HEIGHT: 213px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5634822305337515506" border="0" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhrxUQkS8V52VR_C0ARFfODvKibQGdWAIsbpsVJfZZF2nyxkGrPix2uvyYQ6pPew6ugAGlJEphSsCvKHWSivUZzFefXX1gRDhovgWxe2zRNsHbh-M3sY5NEluTdU5rxR4H4L9gffMI50eF-/s320/100_4370.JPG" /></a><br /></div><br /><div><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiK9BSFzz5sz3cP4t5w-b_zMr2cBhqSrf2BOcJwd7nP440ABynqymszoai4txL_89LnlqaGzHNXvxB2o4wI2aJ1VZQMlSqNEcgZSiA4QRihyoG5E9FD4ttL7QfFHPugUczXORw0Cust0823/s1600/100_4371.JPG"><img style="WIDTH: 213px; HEIGHT: 320px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5634822309990962546" border="0" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiK9BSFzz5sz3cP4t5w-b_zMr2cBhqSrf2BOcJwd7nP440ABynqymszoai4txL_89LnlqaGzHNXvxB2o4wI2aJ1VZQMlSqNEcgZSiA4QRihyoG5E9FD4ttL7QfFHPugUczXORw0Cust0823/s320/100_4371.JPG" /></a><br /></div><br /><br /><div><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjrgiPLvwLYs0ssCgdZb3oEMYteVhGZ49rzdsY5yW7Ie2yyNuthMqRV3avJzVW7iMM1-Et-OTO3UegkJDGv4zbWDmb2EivVoVV8Z-1gpin19qcirwOXP92TWMjL02LcZT72gSFNgZkaFkP7/s1600/100_4372.JPG"><img style="WIDTH: 213px; HEIGHT: 320px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5634822315478293698" border="0" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjrgiPLvwLYs0ssCgdZb3oEMYteVhGZ49rzdsY5yW7Ie2yyNuthMqRV3avJzVW7iMM1-Et-OTO3UegkJDGv4zbWDmb2EivVoVV8Z-1gpin19qcirwOXP92TWMjL02LcZT72gSFNgZkaFkP7/s320/100_4372.JPG" /></a><br /></div><br /><br /><div><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgaC_gt95TS_SLOxYCLcImEZJNG8sJR-krITmiT61_N1t21mgGxfrGmtasshJ78OYHl62xBRzxhsqXP6WQTFnP8dznEgLL02hyphenhyphenk1augEBczSz93LdTy1JQzEJ6vNBe86jIqJsThtKLq9Zmd/s1600/100_4377.JPG"><img style="WIDTH: 213px; HEIGHT: 320px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5634822318827561314" border="0" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgaC_gt95TS_SLOxYCLcImEZJNG8sJR-krITmiT61_N1t21mgGxfrGmtasshJ78OYHl62xBRzxhsqXP6WQTFnP8dznEgLL02hyphenhyphenk1augEBczSz93LdTy1JQzEJ6vNBe86jIqJsThtKLq9Zmd/s320/100_4377.JPG" /></a></div></div></div>Andreahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15919937546200472988noreply@blogger.com1