tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-64614384019859489402024-03-13T09:57:25.474-04:00a v a r e l lgood times
true love
real funUnknownnoreply@blogger.comBlogger117125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6461438401985948940.post-88533098682632963922012-10-30T16:49:00.001-04:002012-10-30T16:49:15.142-04:00T Ball<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
T-Ball time! </div>
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I felt kind of bad, on game day, Wesley, Reese and I had actually all fallen asleep and didn't wake up until it was time to go! I actually put Wesley's shoes on him while he was still asleep and dragged the poor kid out to the car confused and bleary eyed. We were not about to miss this!</div>
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Because we were late, he was last to bat. Thankfully we weren't late enough to miss too much. Here he is eagerly waiting for his turn to hit. </div>
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His coach explained that when he hit it, he needed to run all the way around the bases and back to home. Since he was the last to bat, he got the joy of a grand slam. </div>
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Lining it up...</div>
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Look at it fly! The coach is gently reminding him to RUN!</div>
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He then flung the bat OVER his head and took off.</div>
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Where do I go from here? He always tried to run across, like from 1st to third, or 2nd straight to home. </div>
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Circling back to get that base he missed...</div>
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Yes Wesley, you actually have to step ON it. They would say "Touch the base, touch the base!" so he would usually hop down and high five them. This significantly slowed his running time...</div>
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Then it was time to switch teams. Wesley was not excited about fielding.</div>
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He got really frustrated every time someone would hit the ball and he didn't have the chance to hit it. The coach caught on to this and moved him to infield, which helped a little bit... But he's still 3 and finds reason to cry about things frequently. </div>
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This picture just makes me laugh. He had gotten to second base and was just standing there watching all the kids on the other team run to get the ball.</div>
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I love these action shots of Wesley running. So classic Wesley. The face, the arms, the posture.</div>
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It's always funny when kids get so excited to run that the trip right off the line. </div>
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Taking the long way home... See that black line to his left? That's the path from 3rd base home. </div>
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Again, paying no attention in the outfield.</div>
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And why does everything have to end this way? I'm not even sure what happened. I knew Wesley was getting bored and antsy toward the end and he had been kind of clingy to me instead of standing out in the outfield. I was trying to corral Reese (who wanted to leave) and motivate Wesley to get back out and play. Then another mom struck up a conversation and I lost track of Wesley. I naturally assumed he was back playing as he was supposed to be. Then all of a sudden I heard crying and I knew it was Wesley. I looked up and the assistant coach had picked him up out of a crowd of kids and was bringing him to me.</div>
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I asked him what happened to which he replied, "Those kids wouldn't move. They wouldn't make space for me." I asked if he had pushed someone or if someone had pushed him, but he said there was no pushing involved. The only thing I could figure is he was frustrated that he was not standing in the middle of the mass of kids, and tripped trying to wiggle his way in. He must have smashed his lip pretty hard against that gym floor because he bled a lot and stayed swollen for almost a week.</div>
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He made this sad little face the rest of the night. Even as I was tucking him into bed he had his little duck lips. </div>
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Despite the injury, I would say he really really enjoyed t-ball. He even took great pride in telling everyone he saw that he "busted his lip at t-ball."</div>
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<br />Unknownnoreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6461438401985948940.post-2256486854853802102012-10-30T15:31:00.000-04:002012-10-30T15:31:04.866-04:00An Interview with WesleyHere's my actual interview with Wesley today. All entries are direct quotes. <br />
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What's your name: <span style="color: blue;">Wesley </span><br />
How old are you: <span style="color: blue;">Free.</span><br />
What's your favorite color: <span style="color: blue;">Green and White</span>.<br />
What's your favorite food: <span style="color: blue;">Chicken and broccoli please.</span><br />
Who are your favorite friends: <span style="color: blue;">Cassius and Ben and Bluke.</span>*<br />
What's your favorite thing to do: <span style="color: blue;">Clean up</span>. (Me: Really? Wes: <span style="color: blue;">Yeah</span>!) <span style="font-size: x-small;">I'm not convinced</span><br />
Where were you born: <span style="color: blue;">In Utah</span>.<br />
Where do you live now: <span style="color: blue;">In Ridge Crossings Parkway</span>.<br />
Where did you live before this: <span style="color: blue;">Connecticut</span>.<br />
What kind of cars do we have: <span style="color: blue;">The Escape and The Fit.</span><br />
<span style="color: blue;">I like ABCs.</span><br />
What else do you like: <span style="color: blue;">Hmmm, my mom and dad and Reesey and Mommy and Daddy. </span><br />
Where are you going for Thanksgiving: <span style="color: blue;">To Las Vegas</span>.<br />
-- No we're going to Texas. <span style="color: blue;">Oh Texas</span>.<br />
Who are you going to see there: <span style="color: blue;">Cassius and Ben.</span><br />
Who else: <span style="color: blue;">Uncle Clark and Aunt Guinevere. </span><br />
Who else? <span style="color: blue;">I don't know the right names.</span><br />
What else do you want to say: <span style="color: blue;">Wesley Avarell</span>.<br />
What's your favorite toy: <span style="color: blue;">A tractor with paint and a orange one</span>.<br />
What are you going to ask Santa for: <span style="color: blue;">A tractor with paint that has a handle that's ten dollars</span>.**<br />
Who's your best friend: <span style="color: blue;">I don't know.</span><br />
What's your favorite shirt: <span style="color: blue;">My t-rex shirt</span>.<br />
What are your favorite shoes: <span style="color: blue;">My tenna ones</span>.<br />
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Now Wesley wanted to type:<br />
rufg7ryr7gjjghythgvghggggggggggggggggggggjkpvuhhnmvmkkkkkkkkkkkkpppppppppppppppphhhhhzuhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhmm<br />
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Wesley is really smart and really capable with language, but there are still a few cute things he says. For example, to him the singular form of "clothes" is "clo." As seen above, "tenna" is the adjective for shoes, not "tennis." He'll also say, "Is this my spart?" which is a cross of part/spot.<br />
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*Bluke: Whenever I would take Wesley to the child watch at the gym, he would tell me afterward that his "favorite kid" was there. I asked his "favorite kid's" name, to which he always insisted his name was Blue. I asked if this was an imaginary friend, maybe a Blues Clues stuffed animal they had there, a nickname... no no. Wesley was sure the actual kid's actual name was Blue. He was so persistent with this belief that I started to believe it. After all, people are naming children all sorts of bizarre things these days. One day I asked the staff as I was checking Wesley out if they had any child named Blue that came. I explained why I was asking and they looked over the rosters and sure enough, no Blue. Still, Wesley was sure his Favorite Kid was Blue. Then one day, I ACTUALLY met the kid. (I'm pretty sure his mom is a Zumba lady-- we are always at the gym at the same time, but never in the same place (because of course, i do not do Zumba. No thank you.)) Anyway, I was not about to let the chance pass by without catching a look at this adorable favorite kid's name tag: It's LUKE! Ooooh I totally get it. I completely understand why Wesley would have heard Blue instead of Luke. Easy mix up. So then I said to him, "OH! Wesley! His name is LUKE, not BLUE." To which Wesley replied, "Oh BLUKE! I get it."<br />
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**The other day in the craft aisle of Wal-Mart Wesley fell in love with a paint-your-own wooden tractor kit that had a handle on the package. He carried it all around the store and I told him about 100 times that I wasn't going to buy it today. He continued telling me that I was buying it today. It wasn't until I suggested that perhaps he could save his money for it or ask Santa for it that he put it back.<br />
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I really love this kid. He's hilarious and a ball of energy. He is getting so big but he's still so little. In my skewed perspective, it's easy to think that 3 is old since I have only a 1 year old around to compare it to. Last night Eric and I were talking about how we only have 3 years of parenting experience, but it feels like a long 3 years. It seems like we've had these little tinies forever. Life before them is a distant dream.Unknownnoreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6461438401985948940.post-62738460647932843182012-09-28T23:10:00.002-04:002012-09-28T23:10:49.241-04:0027 BirthdaysIt's that time again! Today is my birthday. And no, I don't feel old. Not at all. Old is so relative. I'm the youngest in my family and the only one still in my twenties. My husband is the youngest person in his office. (Well I think they might have one a year younger now...) I was almost the youngest person I knew in Connecticut. I'm younger than all the other moms in my preschool swap group.<br />
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So no. I don't feel old, and I sort of feel like I'll never join the ranks of the wise and experienced if I keep on being the youngest all the time. I've spent my whole life as the youngest, it's sort of weird that anyone <i>is</i> actually younger than me. Like when I watch college football and realize I graduated high school before any of those players had even started. I realized the other day that the kids that I babysat for back in my teens are now the kids that I'm hiring to babysit my own children. And I have a nephew in high school.<br />
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But this is just how life works. We get older and being older is awesome. Truly. When I was pregnant with Wesley and just a young buck in Provo, I taught yoga to a lady in her 40's that was easily the coolest person I know. She taught me that 40 is really the sweetest age. The truest age of awesome. So I will continue to like birthdays and I promise never to mope about my age on my birthday.<br />
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In order to continue aging awesomely, I have set a very ambitious goal to help me finish out my twenties with a bang. I want to complete an Ironman by my 30th birthday. The real deal. That means a race that involves a 2.4 mile swim, followed by a 112 mile bike, followed by a 26.2 mile run. Call me crazy. I'm all in. Bring on the birthdays.Unknownnoreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6461438401985948940.post-14375647135537159482012-09-25T17:24:00.001-04:002012-09-25T17:24:53.802-04:00Wesley's first soccer game<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">
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Wesley is such a fun and active kid. We signed him up for
a sports class at the YMCA this fall for 3 and 4 year olds. They spend 3 weeks
on soccer, 3 weeks on t-ball, then 3 weeks on basketball, with 2 practices and
a game for each sport. We were excited for him to try some things out and to
have the chance to be coached by someone other than mom and dad. He was excited
because we were excited, and he loved having a new soccer ball. I think he knew
something exciting was going on, but wasn’t quite sure what.</div>
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He did ok at the soccer practices. The first one he was
on the tail end of a virus, hadn’t slept well, and was pretty grumpy. The next
week he was all over it. He was LOVING the drills and kept taking turns when it
wasn’t his turn, he was having so much fun with it.</div>
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Then came the game week. </div>
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Here he is not really paying attention to the initial instructions. He's the one leaning on his ball on the far left.</div>
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He really likes the drill where you put your foot on your ball. Again, far left.<br />
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Wandering away from the team when they were supposed to be lining up to divide into 2 teams<br />
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At this point they were instructed to give their own ball back to their parent and they would then play a soccer game using only one ball. Wesley refused to play since they weren't using his ball.<br />
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The awesome and intuitive coach realized what was keeping Wesley from playing, and allowed Wes to swap out his own ball for the game ball. Here Wesley is in the middle of the shot chasing down HIS ball. (He's the one with black tennis shoes and no shin guards, in the center of the shot).<br />
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Well he pretty much just freaked out and melted down that all the other kids were kicking HIS ball. Yep, that's one of the coaches, carrying my spazzing kid.<br />
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Once he FINALLY laid hold on his precious ball, he immediately took it out of play. He grabbed it and marched right back to the sidelines.<br />
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I tried and tried to get him to get back into the game.<br />
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But mostly it just went like this.<br />
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On the sidelines.<br />
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Yeah I was still trying to get him to go out there...<br />
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The coaches are so nice and persistent. They have way more patience than I would.<br />
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Oh well. That lasted long... not.<br />
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Reese was enjoying her time with me on the sideline. She wanted to grab the camera.<br />
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When Eric joined us after work he tried to convince Wesley to play. He wasn't successful either.<br />
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This is Reese's "Mommy-Hold-Me!" face.<br />
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Afterward they had the whole team sit for a picture. Yet again, the coach is trying to get my kid to join the group.<br />
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He ran off, the coach caught him and we tried again.<br />
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He's sitting here because we bribed him with chocolate cake. "Wesley if you don't sit down for this picture you won't get any chocolate cake at home tonight!" And then he sat.<br />
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Clearly the boy has a bright future in soccer. The next David Beckham.<br />
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All in all, it was a frustrating and hilarious and adorable scene. Eric is not at all a fan of soccer, so he wasn't too broken up over Wesley's disinterest. Last week we started T-ball and I have much higher hopes for that. We've never played soccer with him at home but we play baseball all the time and have since he was really little. He's actually never watched a soccer game, but he's watched plenty of baseball. I'll try to give the update on the T-ball game. Stay tuned in a couple of weeks.Unknownnoreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6461438401985948940.post-164782696296463482012-09-25T14:38:00.002-04:002012-09-25T14:38:48.077-04:00Today I took my kids out on a little stroller run. One thing I didn't know about Alabama before I got here was how hilly it is! There are some pretty intense hills and for some reason they don't seem to believe in sidewalks out here, so running with a double stroller isn't really my favorite workout option. However, the kids are getting over colds and I didn't feel like dropping them off at the gym child-watch today, so we hit the road. There is a nice trail in an adjacent neighborhood, but getting through that neighborhood involves lots of hill climbing.<br />
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I had a nice run on the trail and was heading homeward, through a neighborhood of giant homes and trudging up one of those big old hills. All of a sudden I hear a dog barking. I quickly glance to my right to see an unleashed and unattended German Shepherd barking and ferociously charging toward me. "Oh sh*..!" I say to myself as my adrenalin rushes and my fatigued body desperately tries to pick up the pace up this concrete mountain. Immediately, the scene is playing out in my head. How do I protect my babies? Do I have time to step on the stroller brake before the dog attacks me? At that point I am not even concerned with my own safety, but if the beast gets near my babies I WILL bite harder!<br />
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Then all of a sudden, the dog just turns around. It never stops barking, it just does a 180 and runs back to where it came from. I was completely puzzled. I can't figure out why it did that... Invisible fence? Not likely. I didn't hear anyone calling the dog back. Was it just trained well enough to bark and charge and scare the crap out of any intruders, but not attack? Probably. But the thing looked MAD. Like it was charging out of the fires of hell.<br />
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Then an image flashed in my mind: I had just gotten the kids buckled in the stroller and starting walking. Before I hit my running stride, I said a little prayer. Please protect me and my babies from any harm. Help us have the energy to complete the run and help us get home in safety.<br />
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Prayer works. Romans 8:31-- If God be for us, who can be against us? Not even crazy hell-fire dogs.Unknownnoreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6461438401985948940.post-67485369139830657122012-04-27T18:54:00.001-04:002012-04-27T18:54:38.778-04:00Sweet dreams, sweet home...Today I had one of those nutty mid-afternoon nap dreams. You know the ones I mean... In my dream Eric and I had moved to Alabama, bought a small fishing cabin and Lady came to visit. We were running late getting her to the airport because she was too busy trying to clean stuff with 409.<br />
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I woke up and chuckled at the impossibilities... We would NEVER be late getting Lady to the airport. That is nearly impossible. I mean, have you ever taken her to the airport? You will be at least 2 hours early. (btw, Lady is my awesome mom and the only feasible reason she might be late for something is that she would be helping one of her kids clean something).<br />
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The next impossibility, a fishing cabin? Why? I've never even been fishing and I think Eric mentioned he had done it once at scout camp but it doesn't seem to have made that big of an impact.<br />
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And lastly, Alabama? Really? Who moves there? Oh wait. I did. I really did. Not dreaming. It still feels like it though.<br />
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People keep telling me I'm going to grow to love it here and never want to leave but I'm struggling to believe that. Maybe once we find a house we love that doesn't have as many bugs as this apartment. Or maybe once my family because un-bite-able to all the ants and mosquitoes.<br />
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We've been here a month now and so far killed 3 scorpions in the house, I forgot how many roaches and spiders, a bunch of millipede/centipedes, and at least 3 unidentified creatures that look more like Randall from Monsters Inc than insects. We don't even bother killing the pill bugs...<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-kdCPMDhBT6E/T5sdOv_bBhI/AAAAAAAAAxw/U1VTPwIF9Ho/s1600/Randal.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="200" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-kdCPMDhBT6E/T5sdOv_bBhI/AAAAAAAAAxw/U1VTPwIF9Ho/s200/Randal.jpg" width="148" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Randall Boggs from Monsters Inc</td></tr>
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Plus we can't play outside without getting bitten which is really frustrating. I'm sure it's all a perspective thing. I think we killed a total of 5 spiders in our place in Connecticut in the entire time we lived there. You could sit in the grass with no fear of ants, so this is a big adjustment.<br />
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So everyone constantly asks how we like it here to which I reply, "It's beautiful!" because that much is true. But it's kind of like the jungle: It's really beautiful and amazing things grow there, but there are just so many bugs! (I guess I don't really know that since I've never been to a jungle, just watched National Geographic. I know I couldn't handle jungle bugs).<br />
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Anyway, does anyone like a place the first month they live there? Don't answer that, I'm going to just keep telling myself the answer is no and hope for the best.<br />
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In other news, my kids are still totally adorable.<br />
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">After downing a delicious plate of vegetable lasagna, then hiding behind said plate.</td></tr>
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<br />Unknownnoreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6461438401985948940.post-85592971258227905362012-04-08T22:38:00.000-04:002012-04-08T22:38:36.465-04:00Happy Easter!Happy Easter! This holiday definitely snuck up on us. I feel like we are still in the middle of a move and getting settled and figuring out our new surroundings. As a result I realized Easter was here and I had absolutely nothing planned!<br />
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We went to a fun community egg hunt that was total madness, a playgroup egg hunt where Wesley dominated and then shared his eggs with all the little kids, and a yummy breakfast at the church. Good thing for all of that stuff because Mom and Dad had nothing for the babies and I started feeling a little guilty about that Saturday night. I remembered that I had a giant box of gorgeous hand-me-downs from a super generous cousin so I pulled them out and found Reese a new Easter dress! (Thanks Bethany!) Then I made Wesley a little bow tie using <a href="http://www.lemonsqueezyhome.com/2010/04/bow-tie-tutorial.html">this tutorial</a>. It was super easy and adorable and came together while I baked rolls for a little Easter potluck we are having at a friend's house today.<br />
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The kids were completely adorable if I do say so myself. Here are the few quick shots we managed before running out to church.<br />
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<div>As a post-potluck update, one of the moms brought about 500 eggs (holy cow) for the 17 kids that were there. Needless to say, they were in heaven. Wesley got 30 eggs all by himself and even Reese snagged 4! It was nuts and they both hit a total sugar high followed by a sugar crash of course. In other news, Reese decided to try cat food for the first time and one of the little girls there made up a little rhyme-- Wesley, Wesley, Wesley is so sexy! It was a wee bit disturbing and made me sad that his name sorta rhymes with sexy...<br />
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Anyway, I just want to add that despite how much I hate the inevitable over-sugaring my kids get, I do love Easter. I know that Jesus Christ took upon him the sins of the world and only through his grace we are saved. For <i>all</i> have sinned, and come short of the glory of God. (Romans 3:23) I know he died for us and that he lives for us! He rose from the tomb. He lives. He loves us more than we know. I love my Savior Jesus Christ.</div>Unknownnoreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6461438401985948940.post-78994223071082055992012-03-12T23:11:00.000-04:002012-03-12T23:11:03.108-04:00On the road againFor Eric and I, moving is just what you do as a young family. Before we reach our 5th anniversary this summer, we will have moved 5 times. We realized a lot of our friends probably have no idea that we are moving again, so consider this an announcement. We are moving to Alabama! <div><br />
</div><div>It has been such a blessing to live in Connecticut the past year and a half. We've met amazing people that we love dearly and it will be so so hard to leave them behind. We've had wonderful opportunities to travel and experience a part of the country that was completely unfamiliar to us before. Now we are looking forward to meeting new wonderful people in Alabama and experiencing a different unfamiliar territory. We are confident we will grow to love it and are excited for the change. Most especially excited for a very positive job change that will allow Eric to be home and give our family a bit more consistency.</div><div><br />
</div><div>So here we are, up to our eyes in boxes, getting ready to embark on our next big adventure, and anxious to make our Sweet Home Alabama!</div>Unknownnoreply@blogger.com5tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6461438401985948940.post-26389940461145477242012-02-16T13:49:00.000-05:002012-02-16T13:49:36.382-05:00I know I'm terribly behind on my blog and it's mostly just full of empty promises to update with loads of pictures, and I promise (wink) I'll do that someday. But today I have only one thing on my mind:<br />
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CHOCOLATE CAKE.<br />
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Valentines Day was pretty low key this year (every year?) but I thought I should at least whip up some baked good for us to enjoy to celebrate. Earlier in the day I picked up a bag of perfectly ripe avocados and I remembered a while back <a href="http://pinterest.com/avarellfools/">pinning</a> a recipe for chocolate cupcakes that called for an avocado, so why not.<br />
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oh. my. goodnessssss.<br />
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I can't stop eating these. I woke up on February 15 wanting them for breakfast. And I justify it by reminding myself they have no eggs, refined oil, or refined sugar so they are good for me. I know I'm lying to myself, but how else can I explain 3 cupcakes a day?? As I was eating one today, I realized I must share this goodness. Mostly because I've always disliked chocolate cake because it was either too dry or too oily or too fakey-funky tasting. This is the chocolate cake I've been needing.<br />
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<b>Chocolate-Avocado Cupcakes</b><br />
(Recipe adapted from Vegetarian Times)<br />
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<ul><li style="list-style-type: none; margin-bottom: 2px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px; padding-bottom: 0px; padding-left: 0px; padding-right: 0px; padding-top: 0px;"><span style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: x-small;">1 1/2 cups all-purpose flour</span></li>
<li style="list-style-type: none; margin-bottom: 2px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px; padding-bottom: 0px; padding-left: 0px; padding-right: 0px; padding-top: 0px;"><span style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: x-small;">3/4 cup unsweetened cocoa powder</span></li>
<li style="list-style-type: none; margin-bottom: 2px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px; padding-bottom: 0px; padding-left: 0px; padding-right: 0px; padding-top: 0px;"><span style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: x-small;">1 tsp. baking powder</span></li>
<li style="list-style-type: none; margin-bottom: 2px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px; padding-bottom: 0px; padding-left: 0px; padding-right: 0px; padding-top: 0px;"><span style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: x-small;">3/4 tsp. baking soda</span></li>
<li style="list-style-type: none; margin-bottom: 2px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px; padding-bottom: 0px; padding-left: 0px; padding-right: 0px; padding-top: 0px;"><span style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: x-small;">3/4 tsp. salt</span></li>
<li style="list-style-type: none; margin-bottom: 2px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px; padding-bottom: 0px; padding-left: 0px; padding-right: 0px; padding-top: 0px;"><span style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: x-small;">1 avocado, pitted and peeled</span></li>
<li style="list-style-type: none; margin-bottom: 2px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px; padding-bottom: 0px; padding-left: 0px; padding-right: 0px; padding-top: 0px;"><span style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: x-small;">1/2 cup pure maple syrup</span></li>
<li style="list-style-type: none; margin-bottom: 2px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px; padding-bottom: 0px; padding-left: 0px; padding-right: 0px; padding-top: 0px;"><span style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: x-small;">1/2 cup honey</span></li>
<li style="list-style-type: none; margin-bottom: 2px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px; padding-bottom: 0px; padding-left: 0px; padding-right: 0px; padding-top: 0px;"><span style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: x-small;">3/4 cup milk </span></li>
<li style="list-style-type: none; margin-bottom: 2px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px; padding-bottom: 0px; padding-left: 0px; padding-right: 0px; padding-top: 0px;"><span style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: x-small;">1/3 cup applesauce (or oil, but why?)</span></li>
<li style="list-style-type: none; margin-bottom: 2px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px; padding-bottom: 0px; padding-left: 0px; padding-right: 0px; padding-top: 0px;"><span style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: x-small;">2 tsp. vanilla extract</span></li>
</ul><br />
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: x-small;">1. Preheat oven to 350°F. Line 12-cup muffin pan with paper liners. Whisk together flour, cocoa powder, baking powder, baking soda, and salt in bowl. Purée avocado in food processor until smooth. Add maple syrup, honey, milk, applesauce, and vanilla, and blend until creamy. Whisk avocado mixture into flour mixture.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: x-small;">2. Spoon batter into prepared cupcake cups. Bake 25 minutes, or until toothpick inserted into center comes out with some crumbs attached. Cool.</span><br />
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The original recipe then had you glaze them with some weird tofu glaze, which I didn't bother trying. Instead, I topped them with my favorite chocolate buttercream frosting. This is of course the unhealthy part of the cupcake, but they are still delish without it.<br />
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<div class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: x-small;"><em><span style="background-attachment: initial; background-clip: initial; background-color: white; background-image: initial; background-origin: initial; background-position: initial initial; background-repeat: initial initial; color: #3c3c3c;">For the chocolate frosting</span></em><span style="color: #3c3c3c;"><br />
<span style="background: white;">1/4 cup (1/2 stick) unsalted butter<span class="apple-converted-space"> </span></span><br />
<span style="background: white;">1/4 cup unsweetened cocoa powder<span class="apple-converted-space"> </span></span><br />
<span style="background: white;">1/4 cup milk<span class="apple-converted-space"> </span></span><br />
<span style="background: white;">2 cups confectioners’ sugar<span class="apple-converted-space"> </span></span><br />
<span style="background: white;">1 teaspoon vanilla extract<o:p></o:p></span></span></span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="color: #3c3c3c;"><span style="background: white;"><span style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: x-small;"><br />
</span></span></span></div><span style="background-attachment: initial; background-clip: initial; background-color: white; background-image: initial; background-origin: initial; background-position: initial initial; background-repeat: initial initial; color: #3c3c3c; line-height: 115%;"><span style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: x-small;">To make the frosting, melt the butter with the cocoa powder in a small saucepan. Bring to a light simmer over medium-low heat and let it bubble for 1 minute. Whisk in the milk and cook for 3 more minutes, letting the mixture bubble up around the edges. Remove from the heat and beat in the confectioners’ sugar with a whisk or hand beater. When the mixture is smooth, beat in the vanilla.</span></span><br />
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You do have to work pretty quickly with this frosting as it sets up pretty fast and is difficult to spread once cool, but dang it's yummy.<br />
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So there you have it. You should really make these cupcakes. And there is something about secret ingredients-- they are secret for a reason. No one needs to know there is avocado in these babies. That's a little secret just you and the blender can keep. They can also be totally vegan by using 1 cup maple syrup instead of half honey and some non-dairy milk instead. And obviously you would skip the buttercream frosting and try something different. <a href="http://www.vegetariantimes.com/recipes/10723">Here is the link</a> to the original recipe if you are interested.Unknownnoreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6461438401985948940.post-3118778346999571932011-12-02T00:17:00.000-05:002011-12-02T00:17:16.995-05:00Palmyra Trip Part II<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"></div><div class="MsoNoSpacing"><span style="font-family: "Century Schoolbook","serif"; font-size: 12.0pt;">We started out the day by heading to the <a href="http://lds.org/placestovisit/eng/visitors-centers/hill-cumorah-visitors-center">Hill Cumorah</a> and seeing the <a href="http://lds.org/placestovisit/eng/historical-sites/hill-cumorah-monument">Moroni Monument</a>. It was really incredible to stand there on that hill (despite the freezing windy-ness of it) and just feel the history of the place and the strong spirit that was there. This is where the gold plates were kept safe and delivered to Joseph Smith to be translated so the true Gospel of Jesus Christ could be restored. <o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNoSpacing"><span style="font-family: "Century Schoolbook","serif"; font-size: 12.0pt;"><br />
</span></div><div class="MsoNoSpacing"></div><div class="MsoNoSpacing"><span style="font-family: "Century Schoolbook","serif"; font-size: 12.0pt;">From there we drove past the Palmyra temple and on to the Smith family farm. This place was truly amazing. <o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNoSpacing"><span style="font-family: "Century Schoolbook","serif"; font-size: 12.0pt;"><br />
</span></div><div class="MsoNoSpacing"></div><div class="MsoNoSpacing"><span style="font-family: "Century Schoolbook","serif"; font-size: 12.0pt;">First of all, it was amazing that they fit 10 people in that teeny tiny log cabin and felt grateful for their wealth! It made me realize just how much we have today that we are so ungrateful for. It was a great reminder at this very spendy time of year to live simply.<o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNoSpacing"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNoSpacing"><span style="font-family: "Century Schoolbook","serif"; font-size: 12.0pt;">Second, and most obviously, it was amazing to be in the exact place where Heavenly Father and His Son Jesus Christ appeared to Joseph Smith. Where the Angel Moroni visited Joseph. Where the gold plates had been hidden, translated, protected. Where it all began. We couldn’t help but wonder as we drove around that small town if those that live there now have any idea how sacred this place is—the incalculable impact it has had on the world. Being there made everything real. These aren’t just stories we have been told. Joseph Smith truly saw God the Father and Jesus Christ. The Book of Mormon is true. The Gospel has been restored!<o:p></o:p></span></div><br />
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<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-7fSmUjciC2g/TthScdT-reI/AAAAAAAAAr8/p6_DdDreie0/s1600/IMG_0225.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="320" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-7fSmUjciC2g/TthScdT-reI/AAAAAAAAAr8/p6_DdDreie0/s320/IMG_0225.JPG" width="213" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Palmyra temple</td></tr>
</tbody></table><div style="text-align: center;"> Entering the Sacred Grove (Reese was fast asleep)</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-R59A39ZAXLM/TthSyulZ7OI/AAAAAAAAAsE/ISXKTaWvolE/s1600/IMG_0227.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="213" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-R59A39ZAXLM/TthSyulZ7OI/AAAAAAAAAsE/ISXKTaWvolE/s320/IMG_0227.JPG" width="320" /></a></div><br />
<div style="text-align: center;">Wesley lacked wisdom and departed from the log home behind him to enter into the woods to pray</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-Kuc-HfBxseA/TthTDOcduGI/AAAAAAAAAsM/x7LYCiV5i4o/s1600/IMG_0234.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="213" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-Kuc-HfBxseA/TthTDOcduGI/AAAAAAAAAsM/x7LYCiV5i4o/s320/IMG_0234.JPG" width="320" /></a></div><br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-q_9k3UGNsw0/TthTO36i-bI/AAAAAAAAAsU/ObNWCx6SdMQ/s1600/IMG_0237.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="213" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-q_9k3UGNsw0/TthTO36i-bI/AAAAAAAAAsU/ObNWCx6SdMQ/s320/IMG_0237.JPG" width="320" /></a></div><div style="text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: center;"> She slept through Niagara Falls and now the Sacred Grove...</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-CnsWA1MZ8D8/TthTYki_jEI/AAAAAAAAAsc/z8CU4OMvkZM/s1600/IMG_0240.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="213" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-CnsWA1MZ8D8/TthTYki_jEI/AAAAAAAAAsc/z8CU4OMvkZM/s320/IMG_0240.JPG" width="320" /></a></div><div style="text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: center;">Smith Log Home</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-GJraMXM96m4/TthTqoBU4lI/AAAAAAAAAsk/LMaxw-UBvAQ/s1600/IMG_0244.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="213" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-GJraMXM96m4/TthTqoBU4lI/AAAAAAAAAsk/LMaxw-UBvAQ/s320/IMG_0244.JPG" width="320" /></a></div><div style="text-align: center;"> The picture should lend a little perspective. The house was so small. The ceiling beams had a 6'2" clearance.</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-SOVnbwv687s/TthT5l47FiI/AAAAAAAAAss/whXHXt4-tYE/s1600/IMG_0246.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="213" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-SOVnbwv687s/TthT5l47FiI/AAAAAAAAAss/whXHXt4-tYE/s320/IMG_0246.JPG" width="320" /></a></div><div style="text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: center;"> Here's the kitchen/living room/dining room. After the <a href="http://lds.org/library/display/0,4945,104-1-3-4,00.html">First Vision</a>, Joseph came in and leaned over this fireplace where his mother was preparing breakfast. She asked him what was the matter and he replied that he was fine, but he now knew for himself that Presbyterianism wasn't true. From that moment on, the Smith family (and the world) would never be the same.</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-S6uUtYUQo64/TthUIz4cJ0I/AAAAAAAAAs0/nraMjWX7cyw/s1600/IMG_0248.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="213" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-S6uUtYUQo64/TthUIz4cJ0I/AAAAAAAAAs0/nraMjWX7cyw/s320/IMG_0248.JPG" width="320" /></a></div><div style="text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: center;">Carefully climbing the stairs up to the bedrooms</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-ZpneqVZdvIo/TthUWrp0yUI/AAAAAAAAAs8/3UZGKjuUGq0/s1600/IMG_0256.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="213" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-ZpneqVZdvIo/TthUWrp0yUI/AAAAAAAAAs8/3UZGKjuUGq0/s320/IMG_0256.JPG" width="320" /></a></div><div style="text-align: center;"> They were tricky! It made me a wee bit nervous to climb those with a sleeping baby in tow.</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-fFkccT-iySA/TthUlHebfvI/AAAAAAAAAtE/7RS0C7fWKD0/s1600/IMG_0257.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="213" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-fFkccT-iySA/TthUlHebfvI/AAAAAAAAAtE/7RS0C7fWKD0/s320/IMG_0257.JPG" width="320" /></a></div><br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-TbL3TI2iYUw/TthUyPZczoI/AAAAAAAAAtM/Sl_g8wRguuQ/s1600/IMG_0258.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="213" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-TbL3TI2iYUw/TthUyPZczoI/AAAAAAAAAtM/Sl_g8wRguuQ/s320/IMG_0258.JPG" width="320" /></a></div><div style="text-align: center;"> In the bedroom where <a href="http://josephsmith.net/josephsmith/v/index.jsp?vgnextoid=c08679179acbff00VgnVCM1000001f5e340aRCRD">Angel Moroni appeared to Joseph</a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-25KjbIvBrKg/TthVBJbFi0I/AAAAAAAAAtU/62l8EqNK2lc/s1600/IMG_0259.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="213" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-25KjbIvBrKg/TthVBJbFi0I/AAAAAAAAAtU/62l8EqNK2lc/s320/IMG_0259.JPG" width="320" /></a></div><br />
<div style="text-align: center;">The white building in the background is the welcome center, the trees to the left are the Sacred Grove, the cabin to the right is the Smith's log home.</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-gzgDz_RXc00/TthVUGT1noI/AAAAAAAAAtc/uMlpZeb5fLA/s1600/IMG_0263.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="213" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-gzgDz_RXc00/TthVUGT1noI/AAAAAAAAAtc/uMlpZeb5fLA/s320/IMG_0263.JPG" width="320" /></a></div><div style="text-align: center;"> Smith's land and the path leading to the frame home, the white house on the left.</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-DDxXzmMvCIY/TthVkf8BMZI/AAAAAAAAAtk/kZOVpldxpP0/s1600/IMG_0266.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="213" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-DDxXzmMvCIY/TthVkf8BMZI/AAAAAAAAAtk/kZOVpldxpP0/s320/IMG_0266.JPG" width="320" /></a></div><div style="text-align: center;"> I love this picture because of Wesley. So 2 year old. I'm walking ahead with our awesome tour guide, a senior missionary from Orem, UT. We met some really great missionaries on our tours!</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-Tvf_eVigMjs/TthV948k0KI/AAAAAAAAAts/jNWcVm3r75Q/s1600/IMG_0270.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="213" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-Tvf_eVigMjs/TthV948k0KI/AAAAAAAAAts/jNWcVm3r75Q/s320/IMG_0270.JPG" width="320" /></a></div><br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-i_t9VjdAFrQ/TthWVXRQHBI/AAAAAAAAAt0/oB-vFU0Iv2w/s1600/IMG_0272.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="213" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-i_t9VjdAFrQ/TthWVXRQHBI/AAAAAAAAAt0/oB-vFU0Iv2w/s320/IMG_0272.JPG" width="320" /></a></div><br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-ryb0usOa688/TthWgtFGzgI/AAAAAAAAAt8/THO8gXJXryY/s1600/IMG_0273.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="213" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-ryb0usOa688/TthWgtFGzgI/AAAAAAAAAt8/THO8gXJXryY/s320/IMG_0273.JPG" width="320" /></a></div><div style="text-align: center;"> Reese eventually did wake up and join the fun.</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-AGuro2vUkZw/TthWqW0kDeI/AAAAAAAAAuE/hT24IXAkU8E/s1600/IMG_0275.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="213" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-AGuro2vUkZw/TthWqW0kDeI/AAAAAAAAAuE/hT24IXAkU8E/s320/IMG_0275.JPG" width="320" /></a></div><div style="text-align: center;"> In front of the Smith's frame home, built much later.</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-k8bgwaDPEKI/TthW6P-sPDI/AAAAAAAAAuM/_9HNBj6XwTA/s1600/IMG_0286.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="213" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-k8bgwaDPEKI/TthW6P-sPDI/AAAAAAAAAuM/_9HNBj6XwTA/s320/IMG_0286.JPG" width="320" /></a></div><div style="text-align: center;"> This home is 85% original and underwent crazy amounts of restoration. The walls in this room had to have the plaster removed while retaining the original whitewash. </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-AX_3t1NoNAo/TthXGPdn6kI/AAAAAAAAAuU/tQ5VRcOH2TE/s1600/IMG_0291.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="213" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-AX_3t1NoNAo/TthXGPdn6kI/AAAAAAAAAuU/tQ5VRcOH2TE/s320/IMG_0291.JPG" width="320" /></a></div><div style="text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: center;">This is a replica of Alvin's toolbox where the gold plates were hidden or transported on a number of occasions.</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-2RwwB1uMZ0M/TthXVZ1hs2I/AAAAAAAAAuc/4UQNSWNkc18/s1600/IMG_0295.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="213" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-2RwwB1uMZ0M/TthXVZ1hs2I/AAAAAAAAAuc/4UQNSWNkc18/s320/IMG_0295.JPG" width="320" /></a></div><div style="text-align: center;"> The hearth, another hiding place for the plates.</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-xG55aeAz9hA/TthXiWqGV8I/AAAAAAAAAuk/W-3-z47S5Do/s1600/IMG_0296.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="213" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-xG55aeAz9hA/TthXiWqGV8I/AAAAAAAAAuk/W-3-z47S5Do/s320/IMG_0296.JPG" width="320" /></a></div><div style="text-align: center;"> Original floorboards in this room</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-zCC1H8PtQaQ/TthXvhdsrqI/AAAAAAAAAus/GxKJQDKsaXk/s1600/IMG_0298.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="213" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-zCC1H8PtQaQ/TthXvhdsrqI/AAAAAAAAAus/GxKJQDKsaXk/s320/IMG_0298.JPG" width="320" /></a></div><div style="text-align: center;"> The kitchen. The fireplace was the stove and this home had a fancy upgrade-- an oven. Can you see it? It's the tiny door to the right of the stove. They tested the temperature with their hand.</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-PXGTKv_YGEA/TthX-Sujv9I/AAAAAAAAAu0/u83stdUpNq4/s1600/IMG_0300.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="213" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-PXGTKv_YGEA/TthX-Sujv9I/AAAAAAAAAu0/u83stdUpNq4/s320/IMG_0300.JPG" width="320" /></a></div><div style="text-align: center;"> Behind me to the right is the breakfast table. It was here that Martin Harris broke the news to Joseph that he had lost the translated Book of Mormon manuscript. Right in front of me is where Joseph then spent the rest of the day pacing. I could feel his worry as I sat in that space!</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-PtiwjPdN4Ig/TthYK2h6hHI/AAAAAAAAAu8/Pk32Tw7E8S0/s1600/IMG_0301.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="213" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-PtiwjPdN4Ig/TthYK2h6hHI/AAAAAAAAAu8/Pk32Tw7E8S0/s320/IMG_0301.JPG" width="320" /></a></div><div style="text-align: center;"> Reesey enjoying the tour</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-P9PVOhwElzU/TthYWflIhOI/AAAAAAAAAvE/6DKaUGlvNDY/s1600/IMG_0303.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-P9PVOhwElzU/TthYWflIhOI/AAAAAAAAAvE/6DKaUGlvNDY/s320/IMG_0303.JPG" width="213" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">2 year old + historical tours =</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-GWojbkxv4Ek/TthYwMeS95I/AAAAAAAAAvU/ImCAE7t7d1A/s1600/IMG_0309.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="213" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-GWojbkxv4Ek/TthYwMeS95I/AAAAAAAAAvU/ImCAE7t7d1A/s320/IMG_0309.JPG" width="320" /></a></div><br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">We passed through the Sacred Grove again and then headed on to the <a href="http://lds.org/placestovisit/eng/historical-sites/book-of-mormon-publication-site-grandin-building">Book of Mormon Publication</a> site where a wonderful sister missionary played with Wesley and gave us a great tour. We learned a lot about how the Book of Mormon came to be published and it was really neat to see where it all happened. </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">After all of our touring, this happened in about 20 seconds:</div><br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-wIO1Wcpl5pM/TthY_Lx0ZII/AAAAAAAAAvc/1I4VqZRBisg/s1600/IMG_0311.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="213" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-wIO1Wcpl5pM/TthY_Lx0ZII/AAAAAAAAAvc/1I4VqZRBisg/s320/IMG_0311.JPG" width="320" /></a></div>I wish I could have taken a video of this... he fell asleep eating his snacks in the car as you can see by the crackers in his hands. Such an amazing trip! I'm so glad we went-- we had a beautiful experience.Unknownnoreply@blogger.com5tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6461438401985948940.post-69890259353138798092011-12-01T23:07:00.000-05:002011-12-01T23:07:50.068-05:00Palmyra Trip Part I<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;">One of the great things about living in Connecticut is our proximity to a lot of cool places. Add to that the fact that Eric racks up lots of hotel points and it makes for some great experiences!</span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;"><br />
</span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;">Eric took this week off of work to enjoy the holidays and family and we took a quick trip up to Palmyra. We got into Rochester, NY at 4 pm and spent an hour at the National Museum of Play. This place was huge! 150,000 sq.ft actually and the kids loved it. </span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;"><br />
</span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;">When the museum closed we went over to <a href="http://www.dinosaurbarbque.com/">Dinosaur BBQ</a> for excessive amounts of meat and a crazy delicious salad dressing. (Seriously, if you are ever in upstate NY you should go there. Be sure to get a side salad with the house dressing. I think it was a bleu cheesy thousand island mix of sorts and like I said, crazy delicious).</span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;"><br />
</span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;">At the football exhibit</span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-s7AP37Nn8Lo/TthGX3r6GVI/AAAAAAAAAq8/dwwV4LgQr_w/s1600/IMG_0192.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="213" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-s7AP37Nn8Lo/TthGX3r6GVI/AAAAAAAAAq8/dwwV4LgQr_w/s320/IMG_0192.JPG" width="320" /></a></div><br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-qphdzaP-B2g/TthGlS90p2I/AAAAAAAAArE/EmZziETnWKc/s1600/IMG_0195.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-qphdzaP-B2g/TthGlS90p2I/AAAAAAAAArE/EmZziETnWKc/s320/IMG_0195.JPG" width="213" /></a></div><br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-QjfZ_rD01qk/TthGz8nXnxI/AAAAAAAAArM/xKgcejfXFvs/s1600/IMG_0200.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-QjfZ_rD01qk/TthGz8nXnxI/AAAAAAAAArM/xKgcejfXFvs/s320/IMG_0200.JPG" width="213" /></a></div><br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-DFG0ZmKmKwI/TthG_rphFwI/AAAAAAAAArU/7Tpc7GjLB9Q/s1600/IMG_0201.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="213" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-DFG0ZmKmKwI/TthG_rphFwI/AAAAAAAAArU/7Tpc7GjLB9Q/s320/IMG_0201.JPG" width="320" /></a></div><div style="text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: center;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;">Climbing around on a Jack in the Beanstalk play structure</span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-N0i-ujCUBiE/TthHWmk6-0I/AAAAAAAAArc/wXv3IA5FzLw/s1600/IMG_0212.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="213" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-N0i-ujCUBiE/TthHWmk6-0I/AAAAAAAAArc/wXv3IA5FzLw/s320/IMG_0212.JPG" width="320" /></a></div><div style="text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: center;">Sitting on a troll's head, obviously.</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-rJ0YIOk4Eh0/TthHmItap0I/AAAAAAAAArk/hA0icwHBqX8/s1600/IMG_0218.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-rJ0YIOk4Eh0/TthHmItap0I/AAAAAAAAArk/hA0icwHBqX8/s320/IMG_0218.JPG" width="213" /></a></div><div style="text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: center;">Playing in the "sandbox." It was a giant area filled with little PVC pellets. Wesley and Reese were in HEAVEN. Unfortunately, we didn't get a picture of Reese going nuts in here.</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-FSkdf9IqR-o/TthH1JHkJGI/AAAAAAAAArs/CGYqDtTOhoQ/s1600/IMG_0219.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-FSkdf9IqR-o/TthH1JHkJGI/AAAAAAAAArs/CGYqDtTOhoQ/s320/IMG_0219.JPG" width="213" /></a></div><br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-nhM5a-bbxeA/TthIEX-2Q8I/AAAAAAAAAr0/MkRKtrEosEI/s1600/IMG_0223.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-nhM5a-bbxeA/TthIEX-2Q8I/AAAAAAAAAr0/MkRKtrEosEI/s320/IMG_0223.JPG" width="213" /></a></div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;">We wrapped up the day by picking up some Ben and Jerry's and playing in our hotel room. I must say, as much as we hate having Eric travel and all that that entails, it's pretty nice being a platinum member of a hotel chain-- they upgraded us to a giant room. Never gonna complain about that!</span>Unknownnoreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6461438401985948940.post-83142114140895820492011-09-07T22:55:00.000-04:002011-09-07T22:55:57.089-04:00bloggity blogWhat was I thinking? I really set a goal to post on the blog once a week and then actually published it for the world to see. I know what I was thinking-- wouldn't it be nice to have some sort of history recorded for my kids where I can have a scrapbook meets journal while also satisfying the grandparental demands for more pictures of the babies!<br />
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But lets be honest. Once a week? This coming from the girl who does laundry on a Monday then folds it the following Monday, simply to make space for more laundry.<br />
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That being said, I'm working on it. More to come soon I promise. I have pictures from a whole summer of fun! Coming soon: Toronto, Philadelphia, Rhode Island! (Did we go anywhere else? I really can't remember...)Unknownnoreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6461438401985948940.post-55536438594687190312011-08-08T13:37:00.000-04:002011-08-08T13:37:09.842-04:00Teeny Reesey<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-z3gOeoIC_A0/TkAaQUxpkeI/AAAAAAAAAqI/Kjsg8TYfgZ0/s1600/DSC02978.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-z3gOeoIC_A0/TkAaQUxpkeI/AAAAAAAAAqI/Kjsg8TYfgZ0/s320/DSC02978.JPG" width="320" /></a></div><br />
I took Reese in for her 4 month check up the other day. Here are her stats:<br />
<br />
Weight: 12 lbs 8.5 oz (between the 10th and 25th percentile)<br />
Height: 25 1/4 inches (75%)<br />
Head circ: 42 cm (between 50-75%)<br />
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I should point out that she is really closer to 5 months and being compared to other 4 month-ers for the percentile info, so she's probably on the lower end of the spectrum anyway. She's so teeny. Eric calls her 10% nowadays.<br />
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But being small has advantages. Because she doesn't have much weight holding her down, she's quite strong and mobile for her age. She is a champion roller, easily flipping from back to tummy and back, and she almost always scoots her way off her blankets when I set her on the floor. (Not very quickly, but she gets there nonetheless).<br />
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With that, she also is showing quite a bit of walking prowess. Observe:<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><iframe allowfullscreen='allowfullscreen' webkitallowfullscreen='webkitallowfullscreen' mozallowfullscreen='mozallowfullscreen' width='320' height='266' src='https://www.blogger.com/video.g?token=AD6v5dx2f-5zKeiZnbDjdqoFJr5U0ajGTVHF2J6otnoj7IBbK5-c9gF_nys5nsoFeECS_tQ1HvtxmizJr9UrvDmc6A' class='b-hbp-video b-uploaded' frameborder='0'></iframe></div><br />
Unknownnoreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6461438401985948940.post-84719306704772265652011-08-08T13:04:00.001-04:002011-08-08T13:51:48.308-04:00WesleyismToday I made grilled cheese sandwiches for lunch. I had some tomato soup with mine and I was dipping my sandwich in the soup. I went to rotate the laundry in the middle of the meal and after a minute I hear Wesley calling, "Mommy!! Dripping!! Dripping me!!" My first thought was "Please don't tell me you've spilled my soup everywhere... I should have buckled him down today..."<br />
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Fortunately, when I got back to the table, he was just panicking over some milk he'd spilled and that was dripping down his arm a bit. I sat down and he drank more of his milk and I noticed crumbs in it. I thought, "Man, he must really be backwashy today." It wasn't until he picked up his sandwich again that I realized what really happened. It was totally white on one end and dripping milk. Hilarious. He is such a little copycat. The milk was "dripping" because he was trying to be like me and dip his sandwich.<br />
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And while we are on the topic, sandwich is one of his favorite words to say. I think because it ends in that satisfying "ishch" sound. Same story with "orange."<br />
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Here's some Wesley in action:<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><iframe allowfullscreen='allowfullscreen' webkitallowfullscreen='webkitallowfullscreen' mozallowfullscreen='mozallowfullscreen' width='320' height='266' src='https://www.blogger.com/video.g?token=AD6v5dzv75k5H_GhvShCw4a4u6GbA5UoHsCshKQupMxAjHVk5QZxdi_MNAfQoXOr3DAn2i3C7AslwBHFrhGb3BGhCw' class='b-hbp-video b-uploaded' frameborder='0'></iframe></div><br />
Unknownnoreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6461438401985948940.post-87952583140847572772011-08-02T22:03:00.000-04:002011-08-02T22:03:35.978-04:00Tree Ring Circus<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">Yesterday I went to a weird store with my sister-in-law where I expected to find things like discount school supplies and really cheap water bottles, but certainly nothing beautiful.</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><br />
</div><div class="" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">And then I found this. </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-OdnAu78bLAk/Tjiq3__IavI/AAAAAAAAAqE/2pPG45kfh30/s1600/tree+ring+circus+4.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-OdnAu78bLAk/Tjiq3__IavI/AAAAAAAAAqE/2pPG45kfh30/s320/tree+ring+circus+4.jpg" width="258" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">There in the middle of a bunch of random children's books was this little gem. The book is called <a href="http://www.amazon.com/Tree-Ring-Circus-Adam-Rex/dp/B0058M7W2E/ref=sr_1_1?ie=UTF8&qid=1312336536&sr=8-1">Tree Ring Circus</a> and it is so beautiful! I was drawn in by the lovely cover art. I know better than to buy a children's book without reading it, so I read it to Wesley there on the spot. And when I got to this page, I was sold:</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-XBxY7K4uWw0/Tjiq2BL86XI/AAAAAAAAAp4/nvg4G13ZSt8/s1600/tree+ring+circus+1.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="221" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-XBxY7K4uWw0/Tjiq2BL86XI/AAAAAAAAAp4/nvg4G13ZSt8/s320/tree+ring+circus+1.jpg" width="320" /></a></div> Isn't it lovely? And the story is darling and enchanting and Wesley adores it. He wants me to read it over and over and tries to memorize it and point out all the different animals.<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-NEiyj7CgVAc/Tjiq2th9jHI/AAAAAAAAAp8/u7LI3MryVcs/s1600/tree+ring+circus+2.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-NEiyj7CgVAc/Tjiq2th9jHI/AAAAAAAAAp8/u7LI3MryVcs/s320/tree+ring+circus+2.jpg" width="233" /></a></div> I'm smitten. I want to decorate the children's room based on this book. It's beautiful. I love it.<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-4TgoQ35HBCI/Tjiq3C-g3DI/AAAAAAAAAqA/B7dYIiPmsTU/s1600/tree+ring+circus+3.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-4TgoQ35HBCI/Tjiq3C-g3DI/AAAAAAAAAqA/B7dYIiPmsTU/s320/tree+ring+circus+3.jpg" width="252" /></a></div><br />
You should <a href="http://www.amazon.com/Tree-Ring-Circus-Adam-Rex/dp/B0058M7W2E/ref=sr_1_1?ie=UTF8&qid=1312336536&sr=8-1">buy a copy</a> too. And while you are at it, check out the other stuff this guy does. He's good. <a href="http://www.adamrex.com/">http://www.adamrex.com/</a>Unknownnoreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6461438401985948940.post-53804377168671703492011-07-30T21:49:00.000-04:002011-07-30T21:49:17.082-04:00I'm Reese<span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #4c2600; font-family: Times, serif; font-size: 14px; line-height: 22px;">Name: Reese</span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #4c2600; font-family: Times, serif; font-size: 14px; line-height: 22px;"><br />
</span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #4c2600; font-family: Times, serif; font-size: 14px; line-height: 22px;"><br />
</span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #4c2600; font-family: Times, serif; font-size: 14px; line-height: 22px;">Age: 4.5 months</span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #4c2600; font-family: Times, serif; font-size: 14px; line-height: 22px;"><br />
</span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #4c2600; font-family: Times, serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: 14px; line-height: 22px;"></span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #4c2600; font-family: Times, serif; font-size: 14px; line-height: 22px;"></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #4c2600; font-family: Times, serif; font-size: 14px; line-height: 22px;">Favorite foods: Mommy Milk! One time I let her suck on an apple slice and she was in HEAVEN! She also enjoys my knuckles and the occasional binky but fingers and now toes are much preferred. </span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #4c2600; font-family: Times, serif; font-size: 14px; line-height: 22px;"><br />
</span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #4c2600; font-family: Times, serif; font-size: 14px; line-height: 22px;"><br />
</span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #4c2600; font-family: Times, serif; font-size: 14px; line-height: 22px;">Favorite person: Mommy. She will cry very dramatically if someone else is holding her for too long. She'll tolerate a few minutes with a stranger, but don't you dare wander too far. She does love Daddy though too, thank goodness.</span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #4c2600; font-family: Times, serif; font-size: 14px; line-height: 22px;"><br />
</span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #4c2600; font-family: Times, serif; font-size: 14px; line-height: 22px;"><br />
</span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #4c2600; font-family: Times, serif; font-size: 14px; line-height: 22px;">Favorite movie: Cars. She doesn't really have a choice here. I was so good about never letting Wesley watch anything on screen but I find it a bit more challenging with her. I still deny her TV as much as possible. :)</span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #4c2600; font-family: Times, serif; font-size: 14px; line-height: 22px;"><br />
</span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #4c2600; font-family: Times, serif; font-size: 14px; line-height: 22px;"><br />
</span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #4c2600; font-family: Times, serif; font-size: 14px; line-height: 22px;">Favorite toy: Rattle, the fishies attached to her bouncy seat, and the butterfly attached to the swing</span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #4c2600; font-family: Times, serif; font-size: 14px; line-height: 22px;"><br />
</span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #4c2600; font-family: Times, serif; font-size: 14px; line-height: 22px;"><br />
</span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #4c2600; font-family: Times, serif; font-size: 14px; line-height: 22px;">Newest Skills: She has successfully mastered the tummy to back roll (she's been doing that for one month now) and she's getting really close to mastering the back to tummy roll. She's done it a few times, but needs more practice.</span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #4c2600; font-family: Times, serif; font-size: 14px; line-height: 22px;"><br />
</span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #4c2600; font-family: Times, serif; font-size: 14px; line-height: 22px;">Least favorite activity: Driving. She screams like a banshee in the car. It stresses me out to no end. Sometimes she is an absolute champ, but generally she hates it.</span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #4c2600; font-family: Times, serif; font-size: 14px; line-height: 22px;"><br />
</span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #4c2600; font-family: Times, serif; font-size: 14px; line-height: 22px;">Favorite activity: BATH!! This girl loves the bath like no other. She is all giggles and smiles the second I start filling the tub and taking off the onesie.</span>Unknownnoreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6461438401985948940.post-86882259905035221882011-07-30T16:32:00.000-04:002011-07-30T16:32:33.169-04:00I'm WesleyName: Wesley<br />
<br />
Age: 26 months<br />
<br />
Favorite question to ask: What's your name? (he asks mom and dad this non-stop)<br />
<br />
Favorite foods: tortellini, plain whole wheat pasta, string cheese, mangoes (fresh, dried, and sorbet), peaches, turkey, rice, yogurt covered raisins, broccoli, carrots, fruit snacks, gum<br />
<br />
Favorite person: Daddy<br />
<br />
Favorite movie: Cars<br />
<br />
Favorite toy: Red Van (a hot wheels car of course. He can play with cars for hours!)<br />
<br />
Newest Skills: Jumping off the couch, climbing into his own high chair, climbing into Reese's bed, unscrewing lids, taking stairs like a man, he knows his ABCs perfectly and loves to identify letters,<br />
<br />
Favorite words and things to say:<br />
"Crashing hitting tires!"<br />
"That's amazing!"<br />
"That's delicious!"<br />
"Beautiful."<br />
"No Mommy Mommy No!"<br />
"No Reesey Reesey No!"<br />
"Ouch! Son of a nutcracker!"<br />
"Watch this Mommy/Daddy!"<br />
"Let's go do it!"<br />
"Don't like it!"Unknownnoreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6461438401985948940.post-1924777191759120572011-07-30T16:18:00.000-04:002011-07-30T16:18:40.940-04:00Wesley is 2!Oh my goodness, I took zero pictures on his birthday. Whoops.<br />
<br />
To celebrate our little boy's SECOND birthday, we went to <a href="http://www.kidcitymuseum.com/">Kid City</a> which is a really wonderful children's museum about half an hour from us. We bought a family membership for $100. With the pass, not only can we visit Kid City any time we want for free, we can get into (almost) every other children's museum in America. We've definitely gotten our money's worth with that little gem! We've gone to children's museums in Middletown, West Hartford, and Manchester, Connecticut multiple times as well as in Boston and Philadelphia. And the pass is good for a whole year! This is the birthday present that keeps on giving! Wesley had an absolute blast at the museum and then we hit up McD's for lunch. (Something we only do in desperation... I forgot to pack our lunch!) Wes fell asleep hard on the way home, took a good nap, and finished out the afternoon with presents and cupcakes!<br />
<br />
Fortunately I just remembered we took some videos! And what's that saying, a video is worth a thousand pictures? :)<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><iframe allowfullscreen='allowfullscreen' webkitallowfullscreen='webkitallowfullscreen' mozallowfullscreen='mozallowfullscreen' width='320' height='266' src='https://www.blogger.com/video.g?token=AD6v5dwfdSDJ7LhGgH4J6_JZjL0yX7V3tlrkvwqUi4yr_nL8sVVXXroaWjOX4mOKjumfK0QWYT-QuVCDlaKw8nEsag' class='b-hbp-video b-uploaded' frameborder='0'></iframe><iframe allowfullscreen='allowfullscreen' webkitallowfullscreen='webkitallowfullscreen' mozallowfullscreen='mozallowfullscreen' width='320' height='266' src='https://www.blogger.com/video.g?token=AD6v5dyrKK_oNiqx23DMC8T7yNC7tmQpaZdcHbCGQr7ssvUYebHl1CqKDPaXp25PBBo0LeJjZ0zIfr6dUabKQyWyDg' class='b-hbp-video b-uploaded' frameborder='0'></iframe></div>Happy Birthday Bucko! We love you so so much!!Unknownnoreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6461438401985948940.post-42968387200785444752011-07-30T14:54:00.000-04:002011-07-30T14:54:08.183-04:00Reese's blessing<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">We blessed Reese on May 15, the day before she was 2 months. It was a lovely day and we felt so blessed to have so much family there! </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-qDZKec4Nabk/TjRQw6ZQnMI/AAAAAAAAApo/NAQx9SgHe3g/s1600/DSC02665.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-qDZKec4Nabk/TjRQw6ZQnMI/AAAAAAAAApo/NAQx9SgHe3g/s320/DSC02665.JPG" width="320" /></a></div><br />
<ul><li>Clark and Guinevere and their 2 boys made the 75 mile drive from Framingham, MA to be there.</li>
<li>My cousin Bethany and her husband Danny and their 4 kids made the 80 mile drive from Danbury, CT</li>
<li>My parents Steve and Carma traveled 2,658 miles to come from Las Vegas, NV</li>
<li>Eric's parents Kim and Marilyn traveled 3,056 miles to come from Clovis, CA</li>
</ul><br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-DyZe_vsUxVY/TjRQ4X9_W7I/AAAAAAAAAps/vTHtqvVTEH4/s1600/DSC02666.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-DyZe_vsUxVY/TjRQ4X9_W7I/AAAAAAAAAps/vTHtqvVTEH4/s320/DSC02666.JPG" width="320" /></a></div>It was such a beautiful day and a beautiful blessing for a beautiful girl! We were also glad to provide an excuse for Kim and Marilyn to finally take that church history tour they have been dreaming about for years. It's quite a commitment to make a 3000 mile trip and they definitely made the most of it. They put over 1000 miles on their rental car during their week visit!<br />
<br />
Thanks again everyone for making that journey to make the day so special!Unknownnoreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6461438401985948940.post-55415929036989309912011-07-30T14:40:00.001-04:002011-07-30T14:41:33.153-04:00Little Wesley<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-S0xn7gQfgwc/TjRLcepr3VI/AAAAAAAAAoc/EPepioCr9p4/s1600/DSC02478.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="320" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-S0xn7gQfgwc/TjRLcepr3VI/AAAAAAAAAoc/EPepioCr9p4/s320/DSC02478.JPG" width="240" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Wesley loved trekking around in the snow. <br />
The ice didn't seem to scare him too much.</td></tr>
</tbody></table><br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-Tg8Qt5zS-5I/TjRLkcXpPII/AAAAAAAAAog/V-0nRZ7Op2U/s1600/DSC02479.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-Tg8Qt5zS-5I/TjRLkcXpPII/AAAAAAAAAog/V-0nRZ7Op2U/s320/DSC02479.JPG" width="320" /></a></div><br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-7k2td7IIw-Y/TjRLtl5g-7I/AAAAAAAAAok/tG6ty2WqdNA/s1600/DSC02482.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="320" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-7k2td7IIw-Y/TjRLtl5g-7I/AAAAAAAAAok/tG6ty2WqdNA/s320/DSC02482.JPG" width="240" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Wesley is standing on top of the snow on a thin layer of ice.<br />
You can see that Eric has sunk down to his knees but Wesley is<br />
light enough to stand on top.</td></tr>
</tbody></table><br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-JZUdXV_4uDU/TjRL2cDFDrI/AAAAAAAAAoo/mmVcXCGQXVY/s1600/DSC02483.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-JZUdXV_4uDU/TjRL2cDFDrI/AAAAAAAAAoo/mmVcXCGQXVY/s320/DSC02483.JPG" width="320" /></a></div><br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-83GZHBrPdDY/TjRL_zsr3oI/AAAAAAAAAos/C0819__Is5k/s1600/DSC02486.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="240" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-83GZHBrPdDY/TjRL_zsr3oI/AAAAAAAAAos/C0819__Is5k/s320/DSC02486.JPG" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">We don't have a sled, so he rode his bike on top of the ice/snow<br />
down the hill. It was awesome. I'll post a video too.</td></tr>
</tbody></table><br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-B_fklQnD4Yk/TjRMJKUeptI/AAAAAAAAAow/p8ieCzdX1-U/s1600/DSC02499.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-B_fklQnD4Yk/TjRMJKUeptI/AAAAAAAAAow/p8ieCzdX1-U/s320/DSC02499.JPG" width="320" /></a></div><br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-Ejp94SucXRk/TjRMTHHeFlI/AAAAAAAAAo0/O4oY6ekien8/s1600/DSC02500.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-Ejp94SucXRk/TjRMTHHeFlI/AAAAAAAAAo0/O4oY6ekien8/s320/DSC02500.JPG" width="320" /></a></div><br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-1t4qJC5RwYQ/TjRMcPibQ3I/AAAAAAAAAo4/7R_a_Ukn9jk/s1600/DSC02508.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="240" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-1t4qJC5RwYQ/TjRMcPibQ3I/AAAAAAAAAo4/7R_a_Ukn9jk/s320/DSC02508.JPG" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">First time holding Baby Sister</td></tr>
</tbody></table><br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-R9QsrmLNKtI/TjRMlWNCuuI/AAAAAAAAAo8/twkO97ffpsg/s1600/DSC02551.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="240" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-R9QsrmLNKtI/TjRMlWNCuuI/AAAAAAAAAo8/twkO97ffpsg/s320/DSC02551.JPG" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">love his little lips</td></tr>
</tbody></table><br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-mR6k1nI4CuA/TjRMv6zTFnI/AAAAAAAAApA/oCqARBxaamQ/s1600/DSC02575.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="320" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-mR6k1nI4CuA/TjRMv6zTFnI/AAAAAAAAApA/oCqARBxaamQ/s320/DSC02575.JPG" width="240" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">He's such a goof. He insisted on putting on his jammies this way one night and rocked the look quite well</td></tr>
</tbody></table><br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-zWNmSae9FSY/TjRM7vROXWI/AAAAAAAAApE/S1T0DEMiCAg/s1600/DSC02587.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="240" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-zWNmSae9FSY/TjRM7vROXWI/AAAAAAAAApE/S1T0DEMiCAg/s320/DSC02587.JPG" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Easter 2011</td></tr>
</tbody></table><br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-NkOvH_U-to0/TjRNEpzSR1I/AAAAAAAAApI/uMzMQCyzarI/s1600/DSC02588.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="240" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-NkOvH_U-to0/TjRNEpzSR1I/AAAAAAAAApI/uMzMQCyzarI/s320/DSC02588.JPG" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">I sometimes think that he can't take a good picture to save his life...</td></tr>
</tbody></table><br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-y08hMpt4Ovk/TjRNOE4vjII/AAAAAAAAApM/Xk_hwFsztJk/s1600/DSC02590.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="240" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-y08hMpt4Ovk/TjRNOE4vjII/AAAAAAAAApM/Xk_hwFsztJk/s320/DSC02590.JPG" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Found one!</td></tr>
</tbody></table><br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-MCx26OYFhu8/TjRNWH8vcvI/AAAAAAAAApQ/wPvBMAfMklE/s1600/DSC02591.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="240" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-MCx26OYFhu8/TjRNWH8vcvI/AAAAAAAAApQ/wPvBMAfMklE/s320/DSC02591.JPG" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Easter feast-- kid style</td></tr>
</tbody></table><br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-g2VwS9nRFLI/TjRNdk-n46I/AAAAAAAAApU/tAXMSABtV0E/s1600/DSC02595.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="320" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-g2VwS9nRFLI/TjRNdk-n46I/AAAAAAAAApU/tAXMSABtV0E/s320/DSC02595.JPG" width="240" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">He picked out his own clothes here. I bought this shirt because it was .75, has a truck on it, and it was intended to be a jammy shirt. The problem is, it has a truck on it, so it's a fave.</td></tr>
</tbody></table><br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-V7tEp3Z7Phg/TjRNn7JAngI/AAAAAAAAApY/6s70bReYX7M/s1600/DSC02605.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="240" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-V7tEp3Z7Phg/TjRNn7JAngI/AAAAAAAAApY/6s70bReYX7M/s320/DSC02605.JPG" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">I thought it would be fun to do a little photo shoot after church one day.</td></tr>
</tbody></table><br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-zGFdMAkUfF4/TjRNxbYc7bI/AAAAAAAAApc/CTBbGjCV1vg/s1600/DSC02608.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="240" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-zGFdMAkUfF4/TjRNxbYc7bI/AAAAAAAAApc/CTBbGjCV1vg/s320/DSC02608.JPG" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">It wasn't fun. These are the best pics we got.</td></tr>
</tbody></table><br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-WshUR0EaO_I/TjRN5_tpzgI/AAAAAAAAApg/7BoYqMyW9FE/s1600/DSC02661.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="320" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-WshUR0EaO_I/TjRN5_tpzgI/AAAAAAAAApg/7BoYqMyW9FE/s320/DSC02661.JPG" width="240" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Wesley is obsessed with throwing clothes around. Unattended laundry basket: beware!</td></tr>
</tbody></table><br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-wS-I_MEGG2U/TjROB2pj79I/AAAAAAAAApk/bqKSpxA24wA/s1600/DSC02663.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="320" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-wS-I_MEGG2U/TjROB2pj79I/AAAAAAAAApk/bqKSpxA24wA/s320/DSC02663.JPG" width="240" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">In this case, he just piled them on Daddy.</td></tr>
</tbody></table>Unknownnoreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6461438401985948940.post-69352096698106297792011-07-30T14:15:00.001-04:002011-07-30T14:15:54.334-04:00Baby Reesey<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-OOR0t6wcGy4/TjRGbtf4dcI/AAAAAAAAAnQ/QVEwP1eBsus/s1600/DSC02504.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="240" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-OOR0t6wcGy4/TjRGbtf4dcI/AAAAAAAAAnQ/QVEwP1eBsus/s320/DSC02504.JPG" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">One of her very first photos</td></tr>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">7 lbs 10.5 oz</td></tr>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">First family photo</td></tr>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">She did not like her first bath!</td></tr>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Snuggling with mommy on her first day at home</td></tr>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Peacefully sleeping on her Boppy</td></tr>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">After her first day at church</td></tr>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Aren't those tiny shoes darling?</td></tr>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Sleeping in her bunny suit after a walk</td></tr>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Giggling at Wesley</td></tr>
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-JQudefym8DA/TjRJB5p0q-I/AAAAAAAAAoY/Mnh6TKITJQk/s1600/DSC02626.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-JQudefym8DA/TjRJB5p0q-I/AAAAAAAAAoY/Mnh6TKITJQk/s320/DSC02626.JPG" width="320" /></a></div>Unknownnoreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6461438401985948940.post-69199111262606502072011-07-30T13:37:00.000-04:002011-07-30T13:37:47.636-04:00Catching upI've been absent from this blog for a long time. I just find that I manage 2 kids just fine, but all the little excesses get pushed to the back burner. "Update the blog" has been on the to-do list for the last 4 months but things like laundry, cleaning bathrooms, grocery shopping, doing dishes, and mostly playing with my babies takes up all the time and energy I have in a day!<br />
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Now that Reese is a hearty 4 month old, I'm starting to feel more like I have a handle on things... most days anyway. Well, truthfully, I was feeling terribly behind in everything. Thanks to some prayer and serious elbow grease and a good all-hands-on-deck Saturday cleaning session last week, I feel ok.<br />
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Add to that I'm starting to feel guilty about not documenting the cute things my kids say and do. I don't even remember a few months ago so I know I'm not going to remember all of these things years down the road! So the new goal is to blog. I want to blog at least <i>something</i> once a week. Something for us to have when we look back on these crazy young family years that go by way too fast. Sorry if blogs about other peoples kids bore you to tears. If they do, just delete me from your Reader. I'll never know. :)<br />
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Now that it is out there for all to see, here's to a new goal! Wish me luck!Unknownnoreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6461438401985948940.post-42631159911836658072011-05-02T22:37:00.000-04:002011-05-02T22:37:11.229-04:00Birth Story<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Well 6.5 weeks later, here's the story. I debated about posting this on the blog because it is really special to me, but I finally decided to share it <i>since</i> it is so special to me. I love birth and I love reading other's birth stories so I figured I could go ahead and let mine be read too. Funny, when Wesley was born I felt like you could have had an auditorium full of people in there watching me and it wouldn't have mattered but I never felt like sharing the story afterward. With Reese, it was a very private moment with just Eric and me, a midwife, and one nurse in the room at the time but I'm excited to share the story. Funny how things turn out... Anyway here it is.</span><br />
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</div><div class="MsoNoSpacing" style="line-height: 150%;">Every day past March 12 brought more crazy hormones, desperation and crying. I knew that the due date was simply an estimate—in fact I felt rather certain that I would be pregnant past my due date. However, when the day came and went I felt sad. I felt like I needed the baby out out out! Physically, I felt ok. I felt much better than I did at the same point in my pregnancy with Wesley. My anxiety came from the fact that I had my mother-in-law in town for a limited time only and I wanted her help more for after the baby than before. (Although it turned out I needed her just as much before). Also, I was feeling anxious about how I would cope once Marilyn left and Eric returned to work. I was sure I could manage that week much better if the baby was a week old instead of 2 days old. </div><div class="MsoNoSpacing" style="line-height: 150%;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNoSpacing" style="line-height: 150%;">On Monday morning, March 14, I gagged down half a bottle of castor oil completely expecting to go to the hospital in labor in only a few short hours. That’s what happened for <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">other</i> people. Well not for me. Instead I just felt like I had stomach flu all day and a few bad bouts of diarrhea. <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I took the other half the bottle in the afternoon—a truly desperate act—hoping that it would be the catalyst I needed. It wasn’t. I cried a little (or a maybe kind of a lot) and accepted the fact that the baby would not be coming on Pi Day (3.14) and I should just make the most of the last moments of pregnancy.</div><div class="MsoNoSpacing" style="line-height: 150%;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNoSpacing" style="line-height: 150%;">I had decided that we would go bowling the next day. Well Tuesday morning around 3:45 I started having some contractions. Nothing too terribly strong, just what felt like early labor. I felt so relieved to be contracting finally! I tried really hard not to get my hopes up and reminded myself that it could be false labor and could stop anytime. As it kept going I couldn’t help but be excited. Until 9:45 a.m. Then there were no more contractions. I tried to be tough, but by 11 a.m. I was a hopelessly hormonal weepy mess. Why couldn’t the baby just come? Marilyn stayed with Wesley while Eric took me out on a long slow walk. If I tried to talk or look at anyone I would cry, so it was a very quiet walk for a while. I finally pulled myself together and decided that we should stick to the plan and go bowling. I felt like my misery was extending out over the rest of the family and I didn’t want to be Debbie Downer. I would have a good time if it killed me! </div><div class="MsoNoSpacing" style="line-height: 150%;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNoSpacing" style="line-height: 150%;">So we went bowling. I wished that we could have spent hours and hours in that dumb bowling alley, but we got there at 4 p.m. and they let us know that they would be kicking us out at 5 p.m. for the league play. Fine. Whatever. I bowled a rockin 35 or something. You try bowling 40.5 weeks pregnant. (I’m going to pretend like that was the reason for my pathetic score and hope you believe that I <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">ever</i> bowl better than about 40). </div><div class="MsoNoSpacing" style="line-height: 150%;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNoSpacing" style="line-height: 150%;">We finished bowling and decided we hadn’t killed quite enough time having fun, so we headed out to the library. By this point, I was completely exhausted. I parked myself in the rocking chair by the toy box in the kids section of the library and thanked my Heavenly Father for that toy box full of trucks. Wesley sat happily playing with the trucks while I sat rocking and pondering my enormous squirming belly. Marilyn and Eric perused for books like normal people do at libraries. Around 5:45 p.m. I had a really good strong contraction in that library rocking chair. It made my heart sing. At least there was some hope that the baby would find her way out. Someday. Soon-ish.</div><div class="MsoNoSpacing" style="line-height: 150%;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNoSpacing" style="line-height: 150%;">I continued having contractions through the evening that increased in intensity and length. I refused to time them. Once I felt like they were strong enough to make me want to yell, <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">then</i> I would time them. I told Marilyn and Eric that in a perfect world, I would go to bed, have labor through the night, wake Eric around 5 or 6 a.m. to go to the hospital and I would have the baby before Wesley even woke up in the morning. I went to bed hopeful, but expecting that-- best case scenario-- I would be in labor all the next day and the baby would come late in the evening.</div><div class="MsoNoSpacing" style="line-height: 150%;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNoSpacing" style="line-height: 150%;">I did manage to sleep from about 11 p.m. to 1 a.m. but by that point the contractions were gnarly enough I couldn’t even pretend to sleep.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Lying on my side made them completely terrible and being giantly pregnant, that meant the only other position I could get in that would allow me to remain in bed was sitting. So I sat up and starting timing. Seven or eight minutes apart, but they were definitely getting strong. I was so elated. Call me crazy, but those who know me well know that I love birth. I am amazed and inspired by the process. I feel that there is nothing more sacred and God-like that we can do in life than birth. As I sat in bed breathing and praying and contracting, I felt so peaceful. A daughter was coming to me. Soon. Really really soon. </div><div class="MsoNoSpacing" style="line-height: 150%;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNoSpacing" style="line-height: 150%;">Here’s where the TMI part starts, so if you are squeamish, just skip to the part about “And then she was born!”</div><div class="MsoNoSpacing" style="line-height: 150%;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNoSpacing" style="line-height: 150%;">I went to the bathroom around 4 a.m. (without turning on the lights or even flushing because I didn’t want to wake anyone) and it seemed like things felt a little different than usual. At about 4:30-ish I went to the bathroom again and I felt prompted to turn on the light. I was a bit freaked out to discover a lot of blood in the toilet. I checked and sure enough, I was bleeding fairly heavily. My contractions were still 5 or 6 minutes apart but I wasn’t sure what the heck all the blood was about and decided it would be best to wake up Eric and go to the hospital. </div><div class="MsoNoSpacing" style="line-height: 150%;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNoSpacing" style="line-height: 150%;">Throughout the whole pregnancy I had been praying to know for certain when to go to the hospital. With Wesley, I had gone to the hospital when I met all the criteria they told me about in my birthing class and I was only dilated 1 cm. My spirits were crushed then and I really didn’t want to repeat that experience. I certainly would not have gone to the hospital when my contractions were still so far apart, but I didn’t remember anything about blood in any of my birthing literature so I just decided to go. </div><div class="MsoNoSpacing" style="line-height: 150%;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNoSpacing" style="line-height: 150%;">We didn’t hurry. I told Eric to go ahead and take a shower and we ate breakfast. I tried to make myself look a little presentable (since there are always pictures of you immediately after birth—how cruel) and pack the last minute things in between contractions. We woke Marilyn to let her know we were on our way and headed out. Thank goodness she was there so we didn’t have to call someone to come stay with Wesley. The 15 minute drive to the hospital seemed so long. And I didn’t remember it being so bumpy before! As we drove in the car, the contractions slowed back to 6 minutes apart. I found myself getting discouraged and really hoped that I wasn’t pulling a false alarm, but I felt like puking every contraction so I figured it wasn’t completely false labor. </div><div class="MsoNoSpacing" style="line-height: 150%;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNoSpacing" style="line-height: 150%;">We get to the hospital and check in right around 6 a.m. I had to stop a few times along the walk to the maternity ward so I could hold on to Eric and breathe through contractions. (And tell people that NO I do not want a wheelchair I’m FINE). At the maternity desk as I checked in I was <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">sure </i>they thought I was crazy. I was standing there talking to them just fine—not out of breath or grimacing in pain or anything. <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">Surely </i>I could not be in active labor. The nurse said to follow her down the hall to the triage room—it must have been right at about 4 or 5 minutes after I got there because another contraction hit hard. I got down on my hands and knees because that was the best way for me to deal with them at that moment. I heard Eric say, “Yeah she’s fine.” And the nurse said incredulously, “So this is <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">normal?</i>” If I wasn’t in the thick of a massive contraction I think I could have slapped her. Seriously? Are you honestly a labor and delivery nurse and have never seen a woman stop in the hall for a contraction?? And hands and knees is pretty much a textbook labor position so yeah. NORMAL. My goodness. </div><div class="MsoNoSpacing" style="line-height: 150%;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNoSpacing" style="line-height: 150%;">Eventually I make it to the triage room and get in the gown. I go to the bathroom before she checks my progress and sure enough there is still more blood. I’m a little freaked by that but the nurse doesn’t seem concerned. Not that her lack of concern meant anything to me; I had already decided she had no idea what she was doing. Anyway, I finally get on the table and she says I’m at an 8. FOR REAL?? I was hoping for a 5 or 6. I couldn’t believe I had already dilated that far! Apparently, if your water hasn’t broken you do bleed quite a bit when you are that far into labor. I didn’t have that experience with Wesley because they broke my water when I was at about 5 cm. </div><div class="MsoNoSpacing" style="line-height: 150%;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNoSpacing" style="line-height: 150%;">Anyway, the nurse then said the weirdest thing to me. “Unfortunately, it looks like you are going to have this baby really soon.” Why in the world would that be unfortunate??? Unfortunate for whom, exactly? I don’t know why she paused there, because what she was <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">trying</i> to communicate was that ALL the rooms were full and I would have to birth there in the teensy triage room—to which I replied, “What? This room sucks! (pause for a contraction) I don’t want to have a baby in here. Is this even a birthing bed?” “Well,” says the oh-so-endearing-and-helpful nurse, “it’s a birthing stretcher.” And then I snarkily reply, “I’ve never even heard of that. And I think it sucks.” I’m not going to pretend that I was being pleasant at that point. I was pretty much ready to kill the chick. Poor girl.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I’m sure she wasn’t as bad as she was in my head right then. I was in active labor, what can I say. And I wasn’t horrible. Just a little snarky. </div><div class="MsoNoSpacing" style="line-height: 150%;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNoSpacing" style="line-height: 150%;">Thankfully they had just finished cleaning a c-section recovery room and I can move in there. I stand in the hallway for an eternity or so while they wheel in carts of stuff you apparently need to cram in a tiny room to make it more crowded, or rather, that you need for birth. By that point I was getting fairly oblivious to what was going on and very much in my birthing zone. I was really really ready to meet my baby. My body was rearin’ to go and I needed to get a baby out. About an hour after we got there we get into the room. I crawl onto the bed and say to my midwife Jennifer, “Do you know my dilation right now?” Well I really had <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">crawled</i> onto the bed so she had a pretty clear view of what was going on and she said, “Ooh yeah. You are dilated to 10. Go ahead and push now.” </div><div class="MsoNoSpacing" style="line-height: 150%;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNoSpacing" style="line-height: 150%;">Again, WHAT? So that’s why I was feeling so ready to have the baby. I really couldn’t believe I was already there though. I didn’t really feel the urge to push which was unexpected for me. With Wesley I felt my body start needing to push when I was only at a 7. I tried to start pushing but I told Jennifer that I felt unnatural pushing where I was and I also thought I was going to poop on her if I kept trying. I thought it would work better to move to the toilet. It did. Thanks to my doula friend for that little tip. I sat there pushy pushy pushing and probably cutting off circulation to Eric’s fingers in the process (he’s the best labor partner ever by the way). A different nurse comes in and says she’s replacing whats-her-name whose shift had just ended and I think I might have said “Thank goodness” out loud, even though I meant to only say it in my head. Then soon enough people start saying, “There’s the head! Oh and LOTS of hair!!” and Jennifer tells me matter of factly to get off the toilet and go back toward the bed. I know she’s right, but I’m not quite sure how I’m supposed to get myself there with a head between my legs. She takes one arm and Eric takes the other and they help me slowly shuffle over to the side of the bed where I kneel down and push like crazy. Then I shifted into more of a squat and said, “I can’t do this.” Honestly at that moment I was pretty sure that it would be ok to just stay pregnant. I was sure that the baby would not fit through that spot and that I didn’t need to make that happen and if I did I would die. Jennifer was behind me ready to catch the baby and in a very calm and stern voice said, “Yes you can.” Those were the three words I needed. No more, no less. I pushed and there was her head, push, there’s the baby! </div><div class="MsoNoSpacing" style="line-height: 150%;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNoSpacing" style="line-height: 150%;">We were both there, alive. She was screaming her brains out and I was smiling and cooing at her. Funny how quickly the tables turn. I was screaming mad only moments earlier but seeing my tiny sweet little girl made it all worthwhile. </div><div class="MsoNoSpacing" style="line-height: 150%;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNoSpacing" style="line-height: 150%;">It was such a beautiful birth. Absolutely everything I could have hoped for. I hadn’t clicked with Jennifer the one time I had seen her in my prenatal visits so I wasn’t totally excited that she was the one on call, but the moment she walked into the triage room I felt right at home with her. She was perfect for me in the moment. She let me do whatever was intuitive for me and gave me encouragement without being annoying. She was very positive and helpful and exactly what I wanted in a midwife right then. Reese was born an hour and a half after I got to the hospital. The Lord definitely answered my prayer of knowing when to go to the hospital. If I had waited until my contractions were 2 or 3 minutes apart like I thought I should, I might have had the baby in the car. </div><div class="MsoNoSpacing" style="line-height: 150%;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNoSpacing" style="line-height: 150%;">All in all it was a beautiful, miraculous, spiritual, perfect birth. I’m so grateful to my Heavenly Father to be able to share in the creative process and feel the power of the human body. It’s truly amazing.</div>Unknownnoreply@blogger.com6tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6461438401985948940.post-37906835434389289472011-04-27T22:28:00.000-04:002011-04-27T22:28:42.744-04:00ReconditioningI did it! Today I made it through an entire day without watching a single episode of Blue's Clues or Sesame Street!<br />
<br />
I used to be so good about limiting Wesley's "screen time." We didn't even have a TV until Christmas so it wasn't that hard to not let him watch TV... He does of course love a good YouTube video. Anyway, even after we got a TV we still rarely turned it on. Then the farther I got into pregnancy, the less energy I had to play with Wesley and keep him engaged in better activities. I started letting him watch more shows out of necessity more than anything.<br />
<br />
Once baby Reese showed up, I knew Wesley would need something distracting and engaging that didn't involve me so that I could nurse her. Here's a pretty standard conversation between Wesley and me:<br />
<br />
Me: Wesley, Reese needs to drink her Mommy Milk now. Would you like to watch Blue's Clues?<br />
Wesley: Treat.<br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: x-small;">One time I gave him fruit snacks during his BluesClues and now he asks for it every time. This one time I was also trying to get him to leave Eric's office door and he was in the heat of a tantrum. What can you do?</span><br />
Me: No, not a treat just Blues Clues.<br />
Wesley: Yeah Baloo-kloos<br />
<br />
Then it got to where if I sat down with Reese and a burp cloth, Wesley would say, "Reesey Mommy Milk. Watch Blue Clues."<br />
sigh. What have I done? (Some days I wish I could just go back to not having a TV. It really was easier in a lot of ways).<br />
<br />
This is one of the many things I inadvertently conditioned him to do. (As a result of all the road trippin we did last summer he's still conditioned to want a cracker anytime we drive anywhere). So now I need to figure out how to un-condition him. Did <a href="http://nobelprize.org/educational/medicine/pavlov/readmore.html">Pavlov</a> ever get those dogs to STOP drooling at the sound of the bell? That's what I need to know.<br />
<br />
I've mostly been trying redirection whenever he asks for Blues Clues or Elmo Show (Sesame Street). So when I sit down to nurse Reese I'll say something like, "Where did your monster truck go?" Sometimes he'll respond with, "No! BlueClues!" but <i>sometimes</i> he'll smile, put his hands out, and say, "Monna truck go?" And then run off to find it.<br />
<br />
He used to play with his vast collection of toy cars every morning. As soon as he was done with his cereal he would get the box of cars and line them all up on the arms of the sofa, slowly drive them around inspecting the movement of the wheels, and rearranging them. I honestly don't know how/why he's so fascinated with that. I sorta get bored when I try to play cars with him. Anyway, the past few weeks he's barely played with the cars at all and instead spent all his time either watching Blues Clues or begging to watch. Or begging for treats. That kid has a sweet tooth like none other. But that's another topic...<br />
<br />
So today was a tiny triumph. I made it an entire day without turning on the TV or computer for a single show. I have to thank <a href="http://musicmakersforkids.blogspot.com/">Music Makers</a> and Costco for filling our day so I didn't have <i>so</i> much time at home to redirect. Here's hoping I can stick to my goal of putting an end to my lazy parenting and getting Wesley back into cars, books, and bugs like a good boy should be.Unknownnoreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6461438401985948940.post-20757594338830209432011-04-24T00:53:00.001-04:002011-04-24T00:55:01.869-04:00I think I used to be kinda smart once...Even though I <s>am</s> used to be blonde, I've always prided myself on not being an airheady blonde. I had a friend growing up that was truly airheaded. Her blondey mishaps were always hilarious, but I was glad it wasn't me. Case in point: We were at a party once drinking lemonade out of dixie cups. She needed to pull her beautiful blonde hair (she did have great hair) back into a pony tail so she held on to the dixie cup (filled with lemonade mind you) between her teeth while she did this. Then she flipped her head over to put her pony tail up, dumping lemonade all over her face. It still makes me laugh, years later. I never understood how she could have forgotten that she was holding a cup of lemonade in her teeth after only a few seconds of placing it there.<br />
<br />
Flash forward to now. Ever since Reesey was born, I have felt like a total airhead. Really, airhead is the perfect word to describe me right now. I feel like I can't think of anything clever to say, complete a sentence, or carry on a conversation. Eric has to explain simple concepts to me over and over. Its embarrassing. I mean, pretty sure I have a college degree-- I shouldn't be as dumb as I am right now.<br />
<br />
A friend pointed out that I can probably attribute my newfound idiocy to lack of sleep. I think she's right. This week I've gotten even less sleep than usual thanks to Wesley's unsolved mystery fever (I thought it was probably teething but there are no signs of those 2 year molars and the fever is gone... weird), and I had a seriously airheaded moment tonight.<br />
<br />
Tonight as I was taking my shower, I accidentally started washing my face with hair conditioner. Somehow, in the few seconds between when I squeezed the bottle of conditioner into my hand and when my hands moved towards my head, I had forgotten what I was doing and figured it must be time to wash my face. It didn't take me long to realize I'd messed something up. So I was laughing to myself, recognizing I needed more sleep, and reflecting on how dumb I've become as I finished up my shower. I went to turn off the water when I realized I'd only washed my hair and face and not the rest of me. Pretty sure the bar of soap is one of the most essential tasks of the shower... how did I miss that step?<br />
<br />
Wow. Please excuse me, I'm going to go fold my college diploma into a paper airplane now to try to impress my toddler.Unknownnoreply@blogger.com2