tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-45379959797136665042024-02-07T11:58:46.582-06:00Home on the Kansas RangeThe wild frontier of life.Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07232816361756308076noreply@blogger.comBlogger408125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4537995979713666504.post-36081775048180676972017-05-19T07:36:00.002-05:002017-05-19T07:36:17.040-05:00Leah's 11th Birthday<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Leah's 5th grade graduation</td></tr>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">5th grade party at the Buhler Park</td></tr>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">I was in charge of the T-Ball station, and the Kansas wind made the ball chasing through the parking lot SO MUCH FUN.</td></tr>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">The kids opened up clues to Leah's birthday surprise everyday leading up to her actual birthday, which included these hats and shades, and Blake's sand bucket.</td></tr>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Church carnival to wrap up the 2-day celebration. With a Unicorn face paint.</td></tr>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">The day before her birthday she was a nominee in her Library's Emmy Awards for the Best Movie Category. They didn't win.<br />
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Their 5th grade music class sang to the parents<br /></td></tr>
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Here's a quick snippet of their performance.</div>
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Leah said it was her "best day ever" because she also earned her Sunflower Reader points and bought a high-top pair of gray Converse tennis shoes, she got 2 new strappy tank/bra's from the Buckle, and she had her friend Madison Staib over for a sleepover. They did their nails, hair and make-up, watched movies, and played hide and seek. </div>
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Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07232816361756308076noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4537995979713666504.post-2591206911199493012017-05-12T14:09:00.001-05:002017-05-12T14:09:09.354-05:00First Feels of Summer<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
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We absorbed as much sunshine as we could the first weekend of May. Between Blake's Kiwanis Adaptive Track Meet, Leah's birthday celebration, and Girls on the Run 5k, visiting Aunt Kate and Luke at Milford Lake, and playing all day prairie surfing in our pond and flood run-off...it was a near perfect 3 days.<br />
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Here are some snapshots of Blake's Track Meet: He ran the 50-yard dash. Softball throw and Standing long jump. He competed with his 1st grade classmates, Bella, Josh, and Jacob.<br />
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Then that evening, we headed to Carey Park in Hutchinson to celebrate Leah's Girls on the Run 5k.</div>
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She, my mom, and I ran 3.1 miles with her. She's been training with other girls from her school, along with mentors to help empower young girls to more in life!</div>
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Then the following day the kids spent their hours playing in the pond, in the yard, and in the mud!</div>
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Visiting Dillon Nature Center!</div>
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And then we traveled to Junction City, KS and Milford Lake..</div>
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I LOVE days like these where we can shut off all social media, unplug, escape the noise and rat race...and breathe fresh air, be lulled by the waves of the water, and laugh with those we love. </div>
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I am re-awaking this blog to continue to document my kid's childhood for their benefit as they grow up...because most of all, I want them to remember THESE days.</div>
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Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07232816361756308076noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4537995979713666504.post-83440963655297400782015-07-04T13:08:00.002-05:002015-07-04T13:08:10.082-05:00Month of May<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
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May-June.<br />
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Redneck tubing in the pond...it's like 2' deep :)</td></tr>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Blake at swimming lessons.</td></tr>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">4-wheelin'</td></tr>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Babysitting.</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhoLFF_RgynUrELGy9O_ZJOTFVKp2IdcHDubsdCbiTC2wh3fGgRAz7ZDLgUzaWXUMB4RplKa3nJ662RLaIMQNnDunLCm03wnZDrUNGxsdyxZF5Ro_6oW2fRxOfn2jV61rpTOOL2l-kWdCW0/s1600/IMG_6673.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhoLFF_RgynUrELGy9O_ZJOTFVKp2IdcHDubsdCbiTC2wh3fGgRAz7ZDLgUzaWXUMB4RplKa3nJ662RLaIMQNnDunLCm03wnZDrUNGxsdyxZF5Ro_6oW2fRxOfn2jV61rpTOOL2l-kWdCW0/s320/IMG_6673.JPG" width="240" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Backyard swimming.</td></tr>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhSRdn7QeU4CF8KCUbte-02h_4IWAQ6rxOaZvsUKD-Ox00qAWMZcFhMbaIFuMHmFQ8YJkSHDW8Fu4_6Z4lutSLlTlmGwan7_zjE3Sk-CR6rY29pfhIlFyLLj8cRgzaRXQsOLzOAB2TS-xWE/s1600/IMG_6639.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhSRdn7QeU4CF8KCUbte-02h_4IWAQ6rxOaZvsUKD-Ox00qAWMZcFhMbaIFuMHmFQ8YJkSHDW8Fu4_6Z4lutSLlTlmGwan7_zjE3Sk-CR6rY29pfhIlFyLLj8cRgzaRXQsOLzOAB2TS-xWE/s320/IMG_6639.JPG" width="240" /></a></div>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjCxKmyTmtrZxLKqDnhLvwvgVzgaGd20sjtj1156GDRm4479nBYULO4woRXepQ3xo75i2a5oU23JX1uYf4R4O00piGP3FUncQCLuCeAFIWN9Ig7642nj6ai8c63pnMF6RXAyh6DeUT7FQLy/s1600/IMG_6741.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjCxKmyTmtrZxLKqDnhLvwvgVzgaGd20sjtj1156GDRm4479nBYULO4woRXepQ3xo75i2a5oU23JX1uYf4R4O00piGP3FUncQCLuCeAFIWN9Ig7642nj6ai8c63pnMF6RXAyh6DeUT7FQLy/s320/IMG_6741.JPG" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">View out my kitchen window <3</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjPoYjbl69AXFnQFcDelz5uBdE19oaxcoXpZND_1VcYNCzjhUWh9IV3EsNWfJ7lmIgBGiRjFFJSGIFRTW6OCFvab5gzO33OhcJyzMnF9wYlBL_1TUhk5SDzQ79yMp9zxzvXdPBmGz72hZIU/s1600/IMG_6812.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjPoYjbl69AXFnQFcDelz5uBdE19oaxcoXpZND_1VcYNCzjhUWh9IV3EsNWfJ7lmIgBGiRjFFJSGIFRTW6OCFvab5gzO33OhcJyzMnF9wYlBL_1TUhk5SDzQ79yMp9zxzvXdPBmGz72hZIU/s320/IMG_6812.JPG" width="240" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Fishing in the neighbor's pond</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgmSp3UEI4YA1TEXsMMaP3TFSOQp2-3WbnoLfArP2S8AFZH2oq3Q3UfIqJgbXNIEAuMsgbFfBUOSlQDzJd5KiQFpzRY0X_BdnzHzgI3FTil63wiC1cS88BwC4Xt_OzZ5F52n_9jeVVAIVVT/s1600/IMG_6837.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgmSp3UEI4YA1TEXsMMaP3TFSOQp2-3WbnoLfArP2S8AFZH2oq3Q3UfIqJgbXNIEAuMsgbFfBUOSlQDzJd5KiQFpzRY0X_BdnzHzgI3FTil63wiC1cS88BwC4Xt_OzZ5F52n_9jeVVAIVVT/s320/IMG_6837.JPG" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Blake caught his first fish ever! HE LOVED it. Daddy was pretty proud too. He clapped. Jumped. Yelled. Threw his hands in the air... (Blake did, that is)</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjZbxgQn3nkagcj5Kko10hx-ZJdaAQa_uOzohtsjvyDXou8rXrC9YN9WtRvcqS-kNrnHy9LItX6HhJlOPfpzQD5DdzE9UKJaYM7Ni1l9Pugvzo15V55C7LlhhF9K9t06tmWmptXV97IxCyE/s1600/IMG_6828.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjZbxgQn3nkagcj5Kko10hx-ZJdaAQa_uOzohtsjvyDXou8rXrC9YN9WtRvcqS-kNrnHy9LItX6HhJlOPfpzQD5DdzE9UKJaYM7Ni1l9Pugvzo15V55C7LlhhF9K9t06tmWmptXV97IxCyE/s320/IMG_6828.JPG" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Autum helped Blake catch a fish, and she accidentally hooked one...realized it was on her line, dropped the pole and ran for the car.</td></tr>
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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="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEizTuXYMzrkJWR6SpQZL-etVuf0gASsJsZW3hyprwZtwKGuyQIPaABLjOhwXUW_92xRI9F38ITLC_aD2LaVN1l7w8G9oXeVVPDcFtINS_cyCvfpS5aXOyNr7UgL5FmRDqofeUkL3o0F1-S_/s1600/IMG_6707.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEizTuXYMzrkJWR6SpQZL-etVuf0gASsJsZW3hyprwZtwKGuyQIPaABLjOhwXUW_92xRI9F38ITLC_aD2LaVN1l7w8G9oXeVVPDcFtINS_cyCvfpS5aXOyNr7UgL5FmRDqofeUkL3o0F1-S_/s320/IMG_6707.JPG" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">I took a snooze sunbathing while they were swimming...I woke up and looked up to see this. :)</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgM2bW2mbOKxneH1VHltt7-B0_ZvTfGq1cUN1XQekO45tTTRLNiE2uqIX4A3-oGSE6GLbOtaypW6G97VNda9ku_eF5qdUDPFErnZiEATE1thkMVDvnvRfA4qySlwYb3dU9AAMdkbamofW0S/s1600/IMG_6709.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgM2bW2mbOKxneH1VHltt7-B0_ZvTfGq1cUN1XQekO45tTTRLNiE2uqIX4A3-oGSE6GLbOtaypW6G97VNda9ku_eF5qdUDPFErnZiEATE1thkMVDvnvRfA4qySlwYb3dU9AAMdkbamofW0S/s320/IMG_6709.JPG" width="240" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Backyard fun!</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiHBawTPGUA-5uVie9nl9-rslgSQ1Nifgxr-KfBjPR73AO0VFgqvqIjDXX4EAUUfq-Y50rbK0q_lkL7k8G4LtVyAr5nhv92XQx3eDmxc2HsL_qbTNeWm4bGk2DLheEayjrHn7D1_-j0mpEF/s1600/IMG_6691.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiHBawTPGUA-5uVie9nl9-rslgSQ1Nifgxr-KfBjPR73AO0VFgqvqIjDXX4EAUUfq-Y50rbK0q_lkL7k8G4LtVyAr5nhv92XQx3eDmxc2HsL_qbTNeWm4bGk2DLheEayjrHn7D1_-j0mpEF/s320/IMG_6691.JPG" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Swim lessons :)</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgBV3h004RvNd7E2JqZ68QFO7nEuy6fF49LBqd0Nk8pE5Au-NtTpy09Ll9trrZQwy4tT-DGIq3kZLxfJviG5k9JIy5m_yqO-kSC-N0re5slvYAZcyNtE9dsbyS081HWItueVjxQN-Wozwy_/s1600/IMG_6728.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgBV3h004RvNd7E2JqZ68QFO7nEuy6fF49LBqd0Nk8pE5Au-NtTpy09Ll9trrZQwy4tT-DGIq3kZLxfJviG5k9JIy5m_yqO-kSC-N0re5slvYAZcyNtE9dsbyS081HWItueVjxQN-Wozwy_/s320/IMG_6728.JPG" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Date night with Daddy.</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi_zW6-1bi8x_LhddB0gQdl0ghJJgzb2h5nASmPC5hVMSIlE1OU9eYaHdAa-JPv3a3SRK5WBX08vDzqe9TEmhYZgEWgM5tm9VAXkboFZIAEzx15MeEEKZqOrpBDjg5nibMu4YCeAzxFiULC/s1600/IMG_6245.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi_zW6-1bi8x_LhddB0gQdl0ghJJgzb2h5nASmPC5hVMSIlE1OU9eYaHdAa-JPv3a3SRK5WBX08vDzqe9TEmhYZgEWgM5tm9VAXkboFZIAEzx15MeEEKZqOrpBDjg5nibMu4YCeAzxFiULC/s320/IMG_6245.JPG" width="240" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Autum wanted to mow too, but hated the grass getting her shoes dirty...so we compromised.</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiQDkEBeS0ucco7_-YDjPezPxiV12bRiyO-ZnmrOn-NVzlXw287px2Xv3iCXDht4d7BmnZPT2UhLWtqLMzb6R-dHNYB38HnYp14Sx3nyS_86V7xMHYsVoa-_I0WbqFOHVFvwUv0jvMdk9I0/s1600/IMG_6251.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiQDkEBeS0ucco7_-YDjPezPxiV12bRiyO-ZnmrOn-NVzlXw287px2Xv3iCXDht4d7BmnZPT2UhLWtqLMzb6R-dHNYB38HnYp14Sx3nyS_86V7xMHYsVoa-_I0WbqFOHVFvwUv0jvMdk9I0/s320/IMG_6251.JPG" width="240" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Did some home workouts.</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiflDIQXgKhhDX1kPywKrLmvqeMU0vc5lgxYOly3GWb9iLuqu_1mI8baKfjXSclW6rT7mrTN_twRuSXBVAgm4vhyphenhyphenQGHziWhIFSI2VoofjNJ54Q6T_c1XC2JTBagXuAw3K4Bi0yT00zNsPOA/s1600/IMG_6292.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiflDIQXgKhhDX1kPywKrLmvqeMU0vc5lgxYOly3GWb9iLuqu_1mI8baKfjXSclW6rT7mrTN_twRuSXBVAgm4vhyphenhyphenQGHziWhIFSI2VoofjNJ54Q6T_c1XC2JTBagXuAw3K4Bi0yT00zNsPOA/s320/IMG_6292.JPG" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Went out to eat with Mimi and Papa and Baby Luke</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhqdQ6F_E9TYbhtuBQJG5v5sLYjEI25-1qOx46JPXfJNsCpR0jpoUz5l4k0sBJaBsyjqnlC9jtM26nAL_ku1NUls9IuxSc1HHMXKj5xnbu4kmn_-gMceMXa8OHsDWRflqzKXlWKKDMZf5au/s1600/IMG_6293.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="239" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhqdQ6F_E9TYbhtuBQJG5v5sLYjEI25-1qOx46JPXfJNsCpR0jpoUz5l4k0sBJaBsyjqnlC9jtM26nAL_ku1NUls9IuxSc1HHMXKj5xnbu4kmn_-gMceMXa8OHsDWRflqzKXlWKKDMZf5au/s320/IMG_6293.JPG" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Took a tired, worn out before a long trip home family vacation pic!</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhYVs3jRLeuX6noaRIelmq6O1-wbu0WTFxyjO7Mkb4dfflbXKp12oWALEvV1Fx15utnJIvvlVLStUAP8BHnFsVCot2s1U5BEdEkSxX9n0YrKt4gHSpYObDojwJ21J_Hc2i_hDflRWBMhhF6/s1600/IMG_6399.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhYVs3jRLeuX6noaRIelmq6O1-wbu0WTFxyjO7Mkb4dfflbXKp12oWALEvV1Fx15utnJIvvlVLStUAP8BHnFsVCot2s1U5BEdEkSxX9n0YrKt4gHSpYObDojwJ21J_Hc2i_hDflRWBMhhF6/s320/IMG_6399.JPG" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Went swimming!!</td></tr>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgVTCu_ZrldYUFBQecqTPjpK3huTS3nfTFyxYMnWvagChAlOPyhLEyhb6pQxoDMj2i2HG5A8cSfUK90doWg9bUjwdCDpA8VvQ0__zm2EKel44rfnjdWjnOdBhbSuAtePIogIz0kIjeV5Q9N/s1600/IMG_6403.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgVTCu_ZrldYUFBQecqTPjpK3huTS3nfTFyxYMnWvagChAlOPyhLEyhb6pQxoDMj2i2HG5A8cSfUK90doWg9bUjwdCDpA8VvQ0__zm2EKel44rfnjdWjnOdBhbSuAtePIogIz0kIjeV5Q9N/s320/IMG_6403.JPG" width="240" /></a></div>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjvWbic-waRwtjtKNcp3xuZM3wrDWy1Qwsw0RGLTXMfyJ21AMbOGLqgCBJjjb9jcAC2Gzcq8ErAQdFSMj9XaRS1_DONYho2LLlo7BdWJnXXvJOW3uDhWAHWYQRZdMZ2DcsbJYJD0hWXJkJr/s1600/IMG_6407.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjvWbic-waRwtjtKNcp3xuZM3wrDWy1Qwsw0RGLTXMfyJ21AMbOGLqgCBJjjb9jcAC2Gzcq8ErAQdFSMj9XaRS1_DONYho2LLlo7BdWJnXXvJOW3uDhWAHWYQRZdMZ2DcsbJYJD0hWXJkJr/s320/IMG_6407.JPG" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Started summer school...rode the bus the first time!</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgn4S4MuJifgA1rSsD-AFpBheq4gkjtMewjq6ChsBAzsSaAYGNgUzVc-PkBt0546VUauHmb9CtzQ6LkluEHtG2uuAMu1LxrBp4mMbz5UWZ8bPN-aOeOMgLnqVTdtqlfIr4Nf9BBaHM_xxts/s1600/IMG_6446.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgn4S4MuJifgA1rSsD-AFpBheq4gkjtMewjq6ChsBAzsSaAYGNgUzVc-PkBt0546VUauHmb9CtzQ6LkluEHtG2uuAMu1LxrBp4mMbz5UWZ8bPN-aOeOMgLnqVTdtqlfIr4Nf9BBaHM_xxts/s320/IMG_6446.JPG" width="240" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Loved on our little explorer buddy, Luke</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj28RmKhuAYTq82j7C16a0zaQikmt6_s3NX3NguGYst7vSljvFJMHLVuFFufb77kTchh7_rB9BO4PbPoHuTiPWQE1g2XPEKx4D-8BumbsAPP6klyY1CzYRzONLgIBrJWomULdLtOD9jDprQ/s1600/IMG_6452.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj28RmKhuAYTq82j7C16a0zaQikmt6_s3NX3NguGYst7vSljvFJMHLVuFFufb77kTchh7_rB9BO4PbPoHuTiPWQE1g2XPEKx4D-8BumbsAPP6klyY1CzYRzONLgIBrJWomULdLtOD9jDprQ/s320/IMG_6452.JPG" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Rode the 4-wheeler</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiLa95RcG_GnfspfPJA5Oj7tRp3glvZtEbgDSM-1H3_GnEV89q5q9CicdCqd1qcUpYD1qMDF6riaAb7whNdY2F3RkT5a0nqmOns04_HaFpRTxNrW7nBIO0iMGF3rp_QJdfwHVSbUfDWFnqw/s1600/IMG_6476.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiLa95RcG_GnfspfPJA5Oj7tRp3glvZtEbgDSM-1H3_GnEV89q5q9CicdCqd1qcUpYD1qMDF6riaAb7whNdY2F3RkT5a0nqmOns04_HaFpRTxNrW7nBIO0iMGF3rp_QJdfwHVSbUfDWFnqw/s320/IMG_6476.JPG" width="240" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Wanted "hugs"</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjDr8E9TSXJDoGC8SbaURIaKWCG5-A-fWUglmH0anlk3GZMzUlYWt4eC7E8CmfyIkFVLK4TmssFn20QpjlXpy0Lkd0dALTjIGeCef2PpAExCd_11k0F7aeJTipHnDQpiNu7e1eRzvBJNPpD/s1600/IMG_6506.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjDr8E9TSXJDoGC8SbaURIaKWCG5-A-fWUglmH0anlk3GZMzUlYWt4eC7E8CmfyIkFVLK4TmssFn20QpjlXpy0Lkd0dALTjIGeCef2PpAExCd_11k0F7aeJTipHnDQpiNu7e1eRzvBJNPpD/s320/IMG_6506.JPG" width="240" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">We tried to play Daddy.</td></tr>
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We went to CoCo Keys Water Resort for Leah's 9th birthday! Celebrated with the fam.<br />
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Completed "Murph" CrossFit HERO WOD as a family</td></tr>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Played at Mimi and Papa's in Oklahoma</td></tr>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Started mowing the grass at the ripe 'ol age of 9!</td><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><br /></td></tr>
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Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07232816361756308076noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4537995979713666504.post-29931334704618846652015-05-19T14:34:00.002-05:002015-05-19T14:34:22.743-05:00I Lost Him.<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
I have heard from several people in town the past 2 days asking if "Blake" was the missing child the policemen were looking for Sunday night.<br />
And to answime. her for long stretches of ter that question: Yes. Yes he was.<br />
I lost my son.<br />
<br />
Ugh. Even just typing that causes the hair on my neck to stand up, reliving the terror the hour that he was missing. <br />
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgLet9zpCZP5ThKQ-8Wk-7atzLzeg6Ex1hOZFcATP8S8qZGLBhZdkaw5zXAIQX3MVWNTaOl_Os4FS2cMYgmb9jt9JVopD5jpXwf4rJIPb6aG0SQzQo_JOP-WWOzYf2rI1ThfioNh-NtNS8Q/s1600/IMG_5933.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgLet9zpCZP5ThKQ-8Wk-7atzLzeg6Ex1hOZFcATP8S8qZGLBhZdkaw5zXAIQX3MVWNTaOl_Os4FS2cMYgmb9jt9JVopD5jpXwf4rJIPb6aG0SQzQo_JOP-WWOzYf2rI1ThfioNh-NtNS8Q/s400/IMG_5933.JPG" width="300" /></a>He was playing with the neighbors cat, Phil. Phil and Blake are buddies. They can sit and entertain each other for long periods of time. My in-laws just left after a day of celebrating Leah's birthday. I walked them out. Then returned to the backyard to see Blake and Phil still playing, in the middle of the yard. I returned to the house to help see Jerad off before his night shift at work began. I then returned to an empty backyard. Silent. I yelled a few times. To no response, which is normal. Blake is non-verbal for the most part. But on occasion, after some hollering for him, he will pop his head up out of the tree house or from behind the trees...or out of the garage. And my heartbeats return to normal pace. But not today. I did a quick search and both gates were locked, no doors were open on the house. But I did a quick search of the house as well. I even had the girls do a second time over the house--every closet. Pantry. Small space he could possibly climb into.<br />
<br />
Nothing. <br />
I moved outside the yard, thinking maybe he got through a small crack or fence opening I wasn't aware of. I yelled..."Blake!" "Blake, buddy!" <br />
<br />
Silence.<br />
<br />
I walked a little faster. My heart picked up pace. My throat got drier. My neighbor heard me hollering and offered to help look. He picked up on my panic. I told the girls to stay in the yard. I was going to look around the busy street that runs near our house...praying to God he didn't make it there. On my way to the street, I noticed muddy foot prints going up our chain link fence....and I realized he had escaped...add climbing over a fence to his list of goals achieved in his PT goals for the last year. <br />
<br />
The reality that he had escaped was almost paralyzing. 20 minutes had passed. Still nothing. I began knocking on neighbors doors...of course, no one was home this evening. No one to ask if they'd seen him. I made another loop around the cul-de-sac and the neighbor who was helping me met me in the middle and said..."you better call 911..."<br />
<br />
I had debated it. I didn't want to sound like over-reactive mom. I kept thinking he was probably just hiding somewhere. <br />
<br />
So I made the call. And within minutes several squad cars were in our driveway. They scanned the perimeter...just the sight of them evoked wild thoughts in my mind. Was this going to turn into a missing person case? Did someone kidnap him? What if we don't find him by dark? Will he be scared? Is he crying somewhere?<br />
<br />
I had to keep it together though. Leah, who already runs high anxiety, can sense my stress a mile away...so I took some deep breaths. Swallowed my emotions and answered all the questions they had. I stood in our yard with my arms around the girls...trying to call Jerad so he could come home and help. Feeling helpless. Praying my heart out. Another neighbor showed up to help. Praise God for our neighborhood. <br />
<br />
Almost exactly an hour after the call went out. Right as I was telling Jerad to come home now. I hear the call over the radio..."We found him. We found him."<br />
<br />
And I sighed a breath of relief...breath I wasn't even aware I was holding in. I took off running toward the backyard...he had gotten a ways away. Almost a 1/2 mile. Playing in the mud and water near a water spill off creek. And I gasped again, thinking of the worst. Praising God that wasn't the end, in this case.<br />
<br />
I look over the top of the hill and I see him kicking and wiggling in the neighbor's arms...covered from head to foot in mud...he caught eye contact with me from 200' away and he grins real big and waves his little heart out.<br />
<br />
Not having a clue the terror he caused me the past hour. He was happy as a lark. Playing peacefully in the mud and water. And I'm guessing chasing the cat, Phil, all the way from our house.<br />
<br />
I scooped him up and squeezed him...muttering under my breath "I don't know whether to spank your little bottom or squeeze you to death." The police officers followed us back. They interacted with Blake in a loving, fun way. Giving him stickers. Chatting with him. Giving him high-fives. I answered the rest of their questions and they went on their way.<br />
<br />
This is every mom's worst nightmare. Since then, I have tried to think of 1000's of ways to thank those who helped us. My neighbors. The policemen and women who showed up. The fire department. There isn't a topic list on Pinterest that says "best gifts for thanking a neighbor who finds your lost son"...<br />
<br />
I am laughing about it now. Still not sleeping well. But starting to laugh. A little. All the while I am looking up tracking devices for kids like Blake...who have no comprehension of stranger danger. Busy streets. And staying in a backyard.<br />
<br />
And thanking a God who looked over my son, and will always look over these special ones. </div>
Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07232816361756308076noreply@blogger.com6tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4537995979713666504.post-87893319080010119022015-05-16T13:08:00.003-05:002015-05-16T13:16:15.388-05:00Day of May<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">May Fete Cheer Performance at MHS</td></tr>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Blake enjoying the May Day Parade. Ha!</td></tr>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Waiting in line for the Midway Motors Inflatable Robot!</td></tr>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Classic slide faces!</td></tr>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Holding hands with Mimi and each other on stroller ride to get Snow Cones</td></tr>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Face Painting at Madathon-May Day festivities</td></tr>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Princess!</td></tr>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Bubblegum Sno Cone-first of year!</td></tr>
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The first weekend of May always represents All School's Day in McPherson. It is a huge event and the kids look forward to all of it each year. Performances, parades, shopping, Sno Cones, Inflatables, petting zoo, Madathon, face painting--it is a HUGE community event.<br />
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">On our way...</td></tr>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">We walked to the park, leading the way with our stroller. Blake pooped out early.</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiFotaj41x33OIoqDh34l_k0hjWzTYFoo7QsjSF5G99BJ79b6HSgVG6AItDBF0nY0inpDHxBQNPpFEfXCB7GNDT9pTDBNV77zvZdoSlCxTgEt7nGIhSlmee4BbjfmpC5MW-2pr1QFTZmi4p/s1600/IMG_5888.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiFotaj41x33OIoqDh34l_k0hjWzTYFoo7QsjSF5G99BJ79b6HSgVG6AItDBF0nY0inpDHxBQNPpFEfXCB7GNDT9pTDBNV77zvZdoSlCxTgEt7nGIhSlmee4BbjfmpC5MW-2pr1QFTZmi4p/s400/IMG_5888.JPG" width="300" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">He may or may not have pushed a few kids off to ride this when he wanted...</td></tr>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">We called this the Spider Web of Death for 4 and 5 year olds!</td></tr>
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<b> Blake had his end of PreK picnic at the park on a rainy day. </b><br />
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Leah had field day that afternoon after Blake's picnic, so we rushed back from the park to catch her in action. Here they were playing melting tag...if you got sprayed you had to melt to the ground until your teammate whacked you with a half-swim noodle and woke you up.<br />
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Blake saying his end of school goodbyes to the school therapy dog, Cooper.</td></tr>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Leah's school BBq we had to celebrate inside because of rain.</td></tr>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Preschool graduation!!!</td></tr>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Blake getting his certificate of graduation from his teacher, Mrs. Robinson</td></tr>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Post-grad selfie!</td></tr>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Blake and his Para Miss Cosgrove. He is so stinkin' cute!</td></tr>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">His dance moves.</td></tr>
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Then I had a surprise birthday party for Leah Friday night. She was so mad at me hours before this because I wouldn't let her have a friend over, go play with the neighbor kids, or do anything fun...boy was she surprised when we pulled in the driveway after gymnastics and saw all the cars...she said, "I'm going to explode, I'm so happy! Everyone is here for me!!" (with her hands clasped over her mouth in shock)<br />
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Then we loaded up after having pizza and opening gifts and headed over to pick up her friend to stay the night. They went to open gym at gymnastics where they flipped, cartwheeled, did cheer stunts, jumped on the trampoline and wore themselves out.<br />
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On her actual birthdate, May 16. She woke up early after going to bed very late...of course! Played in the rain. Played babies and school with her friend. Got to take her earrings out and put new ones in, since it has been 6 weeks since she got them pierced. And much more to come...<br />
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Other events not pictured... Leah told the older woman who runs our school crosswalk everyday
how much she loves the way she puts her red lipstick on her teeth. Said
she's never thought to do that with hers... LOL never a dull moment.<br />
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Autum threw away all the flossing sticks she got at her first dentist appointment, came downstairs crying that night mad, because the dentist lied. I asked her how he lied and she said, "this DOES NOT taste like frosting!!" (holding up one of the floss sticks) Now I know why she kept begging all day to "frost her teeth!"<br />
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Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07232816361756308076noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4537995979713666504.post-63066601092647767382015-05-03T17:19:00.003-05:002015-05-03T17:19:48.240-05:00Those invites..<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
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<span id="goog_581357249"></span><iframe allowfullscreen='allowfullscreen' webkitallowfullscreen='webkitallowfullscreen' mozallowfullscreen='mozallowfullscreen' width='320' height='266' src='https://www.blogger.com/video.g?token=AD6v5dzRWkuRwv_FgJ1S8sJMgvP_J_5WZLfU6UegF-Ky6reY-AQfWOw5i9nHAaxE6T1JYQiXiIF8sheuA7lWI1em9A' class='b-hbp-video b-uploaded' frameborder='0'></iframe><span id="goog_581357250"></span><iframe allowfullscreen='allowfullscreen' webkitallowfullscreen='webkitallowfullscreen' mozallowfullscreen='mozallowfullscreen' width='320' height='266' src='https://www.blogger.com/video.g?token=AD6v5dxS1v7eBxju3TXP5g-aY_KgevJ4Xffz-wQH025H9afd4ABOXvVjZZc6wHFcmzEIkomo0k_A55YZd5XDmgF6Uw' class='b-hbp-video b-uploaded' frameborder='0'></iframe></div>
<br />
Those invitations I get in the mail.<br />
The ones I would love to go too...the jewelry parties, the tupperware parties, the wine and shop nights, the baby showers, the bridal showers, the graduation parties, going away, retirement, any type of reason to celebrate invites. Ya those.<br />
<br />
I plan to be there. I do. I open the invitation. Put it on my fridge between the food stains, kids creations in art class, grocery lists, dental appointment reminders, and the poison hotline magnet. I have every intention of going. I look forward to it. I love socializing. Celebrating. Interacting. I'm out-going that way. I will even purchase a gift for it, in most cases.<br />
<br />
And the day arrives. Much like today. I wake up thinking about what this day entails, tentatively plan how it might go, and get after it. And then the first child wakes up. Dragging her blankie. In her panties, and her little bum crack peeking over the top. In all her squishy cuteness, she opens her mouth with the first words of the day being, "whhhaaaaaaa....."<br />
And I clench my jaw a bit, getting a glimpse of what my day with her is going to most likely be like...<br />
<br />
I shush her whining to avoid waking the others, by getting her some juice and turning on her favorite cartoons and sitting a minute. But it's too late...big sister comes downstairs in her robe, sleep still in her eyes, hair across her face....pointing her finger at little sis, she mutters something about "sheeeeee woke me up eeeeeaaaaarrrrlllly....uuuugh."<br />
And my jaw tightens a little more-knowing this child didn't get her sleep she NEEDS each night. And this could teeter either way as to the behaviors that may erupt from her freckled-face being.<br />
<br />
And I make my way downstairs to check on little brother. I hear him moaning and groaning like a bear cub just coming out of hibernation. He is stimming...by the rhythm of his moaning, I can tell he his banging his head up and down, trying to self-soothe. In and out of sleep. I'm praying he hasn't been doing this all night. I whisper to him to snap him out of his stupor...he sits up quickly, rubs his little eyes and looks at me. He crawls out of his bed tent and I say "good morning! Let's go potty then we will go eat..." And you would think I told him he was getting his teeth pulled...he crumbles in one place...I mean melts to the floor in one little blob...moaning "nooooooo, nooooo"...in his gruff little whiny voice. Oh boy, so I'm 3/3 today with grumpy children.<br />
Yay!<br />
<br />
I say few quick prayers and prepare breakfast. Well, my first observations were spot on and the whining, grumpy, over-tired, entitled behaviors continued...all the way to church, through church, and post-church. All the way to the park. Lunch, and the quick walk home because of the melt-downs.<br />
<br />
And it's at that point, I call it. We will not make the shower. The party. The celebration. The social gathering. We just can't.<br />
It would be too much for my little family to handle. And one step closer to this mama losing her cool. And there is still a lot of daylight left.<br />
<br />
So I turn down the invite again. Yet, put another stamp on that gift I was hoping to hand deliver, but will utilize the mailman to make the delivery instead, UGH....again. It seem to be a theme at this point in my life. I have to make the call. What is best for my family. And that means choosing them over parties...most of the time. For now. As much as I dislike having to make that call. It is nothing personal, please know. When I RSVP I'll be there and then I have to make a last minute decision to bail. I apologize ahead of time. I truly do want to be there. So don't stop including me. Don't stop inviting me. In fact, just knowing I'm wanted there, somedays is the boost I need to keep moving, functioning, and trying. To not feel forgotten or given up on.<br />
<br />
So here is my apology. I'll be there, someday. To celebrate
something. I will! I promise. Just at this point in my days, the odds
of me being there are lesser. But I'll be back. Don't count me out
yet. <br />
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Most girls ride with their dolly's in their bike baskets, this girl rides with pancakes.</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi-R1O8YAvhjItfTKqlUx_QozLc2OjYq383R48ju0D6aGCprBa757MWg4A8Ni1zcDzirmpj3jFgvHjg3-Sp60l_LEYzoOcP6xj2nwZROtRmVU8Za9GiQFqzOmdY6b-maUm6dDp5TKNc-51B/s1600/IMG_5698%5B1%5D.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi-R1O8YAvhjItfTKqlUx_QozLc2OjYq383R48ju0D6aGCprBa757MWg4A8Ni1zcDzirmpj3jFgvHjg3-Sp60l_LEYzoOcP6xj2nwZROtRmVU8Za9GiQFqzOmdY6b-maUm6dDp5TKNc-51B/s1600/IMG_5698%5B1%5D.JPG" height="400" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Bright purple eye shadow and epic trampoline hair.</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhvMsggZSgvWSsSDl9QiGBzotLlN3bC8k_Xl2828Y4wHFvWqc15qxIHhJDdpdLTRiRQawTFliN_JVi2219vpvptUinr_YAt2sur1P-gDhA5cscKV37-Ijtly36z9_bAHLj2TvbWsmUKmCQP/s1600/IMG_5679%5B1%5D.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhvMsggZSgvWSsSDl9QiGBzotLlN3bC8k_Xl2828Y4wHFvWqc15qxIHhJDdpdLTRiRQawTFliN_JVi2219vpvptUinr_YAt2sur1P-gDhA5cscKV37-Ijtly36z9_bAHLj2TvbWsmUKmCQP/s1600/IMG_5679%5B1%5D.JPG" height="400" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Our Saturday night date nights.</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi-oGIFLSUsvzimJiUnG0I-d4NZRfI1oTmagwmdQ3Nh-TmdKYGRA9znYxz60ZEFfXl4jNEFGpTOUAH01D0kycsnBj8hLI24QwpWGzyR9TaIEmMGC8u0h519cPmFqA5hm6_nct93-SYn4hlo/s1600/IMG_5693%5B1%5D.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi-oGIFLSUsvzimJiUnG0I-d4NZRfI1oTmagwmdQ3Nh-TmdKYGRA9znYxz60ZEFfXl4jNEFGpTOUAH01D0kycsnBj8hLI24QwpWGzyR9TaIEmMGC8u0h519cPmFqA5hm6_nct93-SYn4hlo/s1600/IMG_5693%5B1%5D.JPG" height="400" width="300" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Playing "mailman" with Mimi in Papa's new shop.</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjckt7GAV-ae23s7tPBRq_NL0VP6K8zGTR8ezDaUUnfBKgslqzdWfDSdLXMaOJ6EFBs-JwFgWSwnyy7n2xBXIHpm9owyepNnFr7cmWtyV-BVKqTPU8OQv8DgX-aeiEE5r0S8aMX7dZRoWzr/s1600/IMG_5659%5B1%5D.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjckt7GAV-ae23s7tPBRq_NL0VP6K8zGTR8ezDaUUnfBKgslqzdWfDSdLXMaOJ6EFBs-JwFgWSwnyy7n2xBXIHpm9owyepNnFr7cmWtyV-BVKqTPU8OQv8DgX-aeiEE5r0S8aMX7dZRoWzr/s1600/IMG_5659%5B1%5D.JPG" height="400" width="300" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">One of his many personalities. Always guaranteed to make us laugh, though.</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjrWZwnP3aubD_0nSsY-UttSmGfdzIfqEVZXVb3IAHhyphenhyphenydAFFypTiosAn8q4icaYoTiEPkNlNiWQt9Wa4fAYGvB7XUERU7oR_mLqeKjbPVmBXljS3FIDiqjZSeqgEITBVMvgisodA28xepD/s1600/IMG_5666%5B1%5D.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjrWZwnP3aubD_0nSsY-UttSmGfdzIfqEVZXVb3IAHhyphenhyphenydAFFypTiosAn8q4icaYoTiEPkNlNiWQt9Wa4fAYGvB7XUERU7oR_mLqeKjbPVmBXljS3FIDiqjZSeqgEITBVMvgisodA28xepD/s1600/IMG_5666%5B1%5D.JPG" height="400" width="300" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">He is nearly dressing himself now. Shirts and socks are only struggle.</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiM1SlzRX6l-xT-PKhH_bP7iTXpD5lcyzi0UggHdHNgi3yvWB23P1_dH6SiSW09nXo_GMCfvCkHDthJMhOtEO6jdbgFUUH4IrwqreiXjE8sr2Xg_Vvwf5gN-hAS8PO7D5CcTGVJEJPBcIAN/s1600/IMG_5644%5B1%5D.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiM1SlzRX6l-xT-PKhH_bP7iTXpD5lcyzi0UggHdHNgi3yvWB23P1_dH6SiSW09nXo_GMCfvCkHDthJMhOtEO6jdbgFUUH4IrwqreiXjE8sr2Xg_Vvwf5gN-hAS8PO7D5CcTGVJEJPBcIAN/s1600/IMG_5644%5B1%5D.JPG" height="400" width="300" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">This girl needs the swimming pool to open ASAP. Right now the bath has to make due.</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgJyi7qoDc1Fb8a8rXRuoE1KMfiBetASSU9VOdoLyOGfr1FecLXGMtYX2Muoq5Up7rD1onOSjllab2qDQpJ0mFdmG6zXY48z71UjfGzozXU10y3emyqjXubF4k8P_fCTHuHWZR64WcaW4hv/s1600/IMG_5661%5B1%5D.PNG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgJyi7qoDc1Fb8a8rXRuoE1KMfiBetASSU9VOdoLyOGfr1FecLXGMtYX2Muoq5Up7rD1onOSjllab2qDQpJ0mFdmG6zXY48z71UjfGzozXU10y3emyqjXubF4k8P_fCTHuHWZR64WcaW4hv/s1600/IMG_5661%5B1%5D.PNG" height="400" width="266" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Dinner dates with Baby Luke via FaceTime.</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgyj1WeOSR05ZYRcfm9XP92CkH9urP-NeOQvy7KD2UUzoUZhcA6VdaHgmv3xqinFYTKWpvDyJi6vkWGPrYl9d6cdRaV-CCXW7rkh0O-5xiuf_xQWwWabzy1AGQgAa8ah4BZAbW8hhs2Cvj2/s1600/IMG_5663%5B1%5D.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgyj1WeOSR05ZYRcfm9XP92CkH9urP-NeOQvy7KD2UUzoUZhcA6VdaHgmv3xqinFYTKWpvDyJi6vkWGPrYl9d6cdRaV-CCXW7rkh0O-5xiuf_xQWwWabzy1AGQgAa8ah4BZAbW8hhs2Cvj2/s1600/IMG_5663%5B1%5D.JPG" height="400" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Sorting my tupperware drawer is how we work on shapes, bigger than/smaller than statements.</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhdSI-KJefB9j7IWHITCBoIi0ZJKABygqii0c3KsAHTfgNs5qG1s0n-U8sdFBl5OAS3N5wmdQhP5pIDP3vMhcPxeOZkTNWMqJgaY1zkWt6s8d1jPqJJb5LrWJsOYgQVtzPUmOapxbvOROl5/s1600/IMG_5740%5B1%5D.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhdSI-KJefB9j7IWHITCBoIi0ZJKABygqii0c3KsAHTfgNs5qG1s0n-U8sdFBl5OAS3N5wmdQhP5pIDP3vMhcPxeOZkTNWMqJgaY1zkWt6s8d1jPqJJb5LrWJsOYgQVtzPUmOapxbvOROl5/s1600/IMG_5740%5B1%5D.JPG" height="400" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Leah was Sacagawea in her 3rd grade project at school. She did great! And chose Sacagawea because she got to take her baby doll to school!</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj1fMaOUtYyApGVuzcxVDhcKpG4wI8ER-vx5G-sEAcp9pLcD5kIobr3_9pNaXZz9La-LBbnSTodz-bWAiBimusRIMJULe8vPH1v4ksxCfMm6pMo6GsIIlUmMwcrhMgmQLq1glV_dFvGJEAs/s1600/IMG_5731%5B1%5D.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj1fMaOUtYyApGVuzcxVDhcKpG4wI8ER-vx5G-sEAcp9pLcD5kIobr3_9pNaXZz9La-LBbnSTodz-bWAiBimusRIMJULe8vPH1v4ksxCfMm6pMo6GsIIlUmMwcrhMgmQLq1glV_dFvGJEAs/s1600/IMG_5731%5B1%5D.JPG" height="300" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Her display board we worked on all weekend.</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhN1EPFF_mdqY1riLHcABgH6D89Qir4IFOpj2lGPhRaXO5QWkyQ2MKERttDQFVbHlDRYPjZw0MlE_NQb9CgcGvwNOpStrhaTIyK65Yzafr2jdbrIc4mn3q-zH6uKyda2vEctdwCChBbNjl_/s1600/IMG_5734%5B1%5D.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhN1EPFF_mdqY1riLHcABgH6D89Qir4IFOpj2lGPhRaXO5QWkyQ2MKERttDQFVbHlDRYPjZw0MlE_NQb9CgcGvwNOpStrhaTIyK65Yzafr2jdbrIc4mn3q-zH6uKyda2vEctdwCChBbNjl_/s1600/IMG_5734%5B1%5D.JPG" height="300" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">With her proud brother and sister after her Wax Museum presentation.</td></tr>
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Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07232816361756308076noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4537995979713666504.post-32516478075164588372015-04-24T09:04:00.004-05:002015-04-24T09:04:38.499-05:00Reminiscing...<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
A friend linked me to the Facebook post that went viral of the little boy with Down Syndrome, who's daddy used photoshop to edit him into pictures where it looked like he was flying, and a superhero!<br />
<br />
Let me tell you, that little guy is adorable! And his dad even cooler.<br />
See here if you have missed this: <a href="http://photography.aplus.com/a/wil-flying-down-syndrome-photogarphy?utm_campaign=i102&utm_source=a42412&so=vPAvgSLdSg26DadRTwGi7L&ref=ns" target="_blank">"Wil Flying" </a><br />
(Worth your time)<br />
<br />
It reminded me of the posts I made about Blake's perspective, when he first joined our family. Haha! I forgot about so many things already. Oh, how his life--AND ours--has changed, since his adoption.<br />
<br />
In case you missed these, the first time around, for your reading pleasure: (a small glimpse into our lives, and Blakes, 3 years ago)<br />
<br />
<a href="http://homeonthekansasrange.blogspot.com/2011/12/blakes-perspectivepart-i.html" target="_blank">Blake's Perspective: Part I</a><br />
<br />
<a href="http://homeonthekansasrange.blogspot.com/2011/12/blakes-perspectivepart-2.html" target="_blank">Part II</a><br />
<br />
<a href="http://homeonthekansasrange.blogspot.com/2011/12/blakes-perspectivepart-3.html" target="_blank">Part III</a><br />
<br />
<a href="http://homeonthekansasrange.blogspot.com/2011/12/blakes-perspectivepart-4.html" target="_blank">Part IV</a><br />
<br />
<a href="http://homeonthekansasrange.blogspot.com/2011/12/blake-perspectivepart-5.html" target="_blank">Part V</a><br />
<br />
<a href="http://homeonthekansasrange.blogspot.com/2011/12/autums-complaint-letter-to-santa.html" target="_blank">Autum's Perspective</a><br />
<br />
<a href="http://homeonthekansasrange.blogspot.com/2011/12/blakes-perspective-on-christmas.html" target="_blank">Blake's Take on Christmas</a><br />
<br />
I can't wait until he can talk and share what his real thoughts are about life, someday soon.<br />
<br />
<br />
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<br /></div>
Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07232816361756308076noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4537995979713666504.post-66049195876081476602015-04-23T13:09:00.001-05:002015-04-23T13:09:06.684-05:00Home on the Kansas Range: Times Flies...when...<a href="http://homeonthekansasrange.blogspot.com/2015/04/times-flieswhen.html?spref=bl">Home on the Kansas Range: Times Flies...when...</a>: I was looking through my TimeHop app today from pictures that I posted up to 5 years ago...and as I look back on them I smile or tear up th...Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07232816361756308076noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4537995979713666504.post-24061293385707465832015-04-23T13:06:00.001-05:002015-04-23T13:06:12.255-05:00Times Flies...when...<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
<span style="font-size: x-large;">I </span>was looking through my TimeHop app today from pictures that I posted up to 5 years ago...and as I look back on them I smile or tear up thinking on and remembering those particular moments. I smile realizing how much my kids have changed. Leah doesn't have a gap in her front teeth now, her nose and cheeks are sprayed with 1000's more freckles than before, her face shape has changed. And Autum has thinned down so much. No longer are her rubberband arms from her baby days, and she doesn't scream (as much) about every little thing, and best of all she sleeps through the night--ahem, I should say more than she used too, at least. Blake's turned into a little man. He is saying words, communicating, interacting, climbing on everything...has an opinion, and has a whole new outlook on life.<br />
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So many changes that occur right before your eyes, yet you don't see them until you step back and look in on the days that have accumulated into these changes. And you hear it over and over again, my grandma's, my parents, my elderly friends, the grandma's in the grocery store line...<br />
<br />
"Enjoy it while you can. It goes so fast. Before you know it, they will be grown up and gone. Treasure these moments. Soak them up. Slow down. Breathe it all in..."<br />
<br />
And while I know this. I get this. I am sure this is true. I still have a hard time with the "enjoy this while you can" part of this speech...most days. In fact, until my kids are sound asleep and I am tip toeing out of their rooms in the quiet, just counting down the minutes until I can sit down and prop my feet up for a few, or even eat my cold supper still sitting on the counter, or take a shower with no interruptions...it is sometimes hard to think about "enjoying" this stage of life. Yes, I have my warm fuzzy moments when I take a deep breathe and smile. Living in the moment that warms me over. Don't get me wrong. I do. And I savor the fleeting moment that swells my heart up with goodness, being around my family, in a joyous moment. <br />
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<br />
But....<br />
There are days...and situations.<br />
Where enjoyment is far from my mind. It's more like, get in, get it done, get out. Survival mode.<br />
<br />
Such as when you oversleep (ahem* like today) and you rush downstairs to get the lights on and everyone moving. Your youngest who you have been up with at night for the past 1 1/2 weeks because she is scared, or sick, or out of water, or needs a Kleenex, or wants to change her PJ's, or forgot to put on socks...walks downstairs and makes her presence known with crying...and whining...because she doesn't want to go to school. (in fact, she never does) So she plants herself in the middle of the living room floor saying she can't get dressed, she doesn't know how...and she can't find her clothes (lying on floor beside her), she doesn't like pancakes (that she eats every morning), and she can't walk upstairs to potty by herself...she needs you to carry her....and on and on...(all read while half-crying)<br />
<br />
And then your oldest comes downstairs in her high heels (bought specifically for church and special occasions), prepared to argue with you why she needs to wear them to school again--and no they have no connection to her back hurting this week, her heels burning, and her ankles being sore..she doesn't care if its cold because she is wearing 3 shirts to make up for her feet not being covered...<br />
<br />
And your son comes crawling upstairs with a runny nose streaked across both cheeks, all the way up to his snot-hardened hair, whining (and he is usually the morning person in the clan), his shirt half-stuck on his head and arms, his pants are completely wet, because he refused to potty before bed the night before...and he joins his sister on the kitchen floor, and harmonizes in on the crying/whining.<br />
<br />
These are not exact moments I breathe in deeply thinking..."enjoy this. You will miss it someday."<br />
<br />
Nope. Not even close..<br />
Or by the 8th night in a row your husband has worked and you haven't had a free minute to yourself in 2 months, and your kids don't want to eat the enchiladas you made, that they always eat, and they devoured the night before...and it's 7 pm, you don't want to get back out, you are out of Peanut Butter and cheese--your two go-to tortilla toppings when in a crunch. <br />
<br />
Still nothing. No warm fuzzies.<br />
<br />
<ul style="text-align: left;">
<li>Or when you have to get your child early from school for bad behavior.</li>
<li>Or when you can't take another episode of "Ruby and Max"..</li>
<li>Or when you just wish you could go to the bathroom alone, for one time. Without having to explain certain parts or things or differences...</li>
<li>Or when you try to make a phone call and all 3 kids are crying before you hang up, and you desperately wish you could text insurance agents who are trying to find time to inspect your roof.</li>
</ul>
Nope. I am sorry to say I have no revolutionary thoughts in those moments of..."hey, Anna! Stop, relax and enjoy this, you will miss it..." I just can't make myself say it. Not. at. all.<br />
So while I know you mean well, if I'm dragging one kid by the arm through Dillons, the youngest is in the cart crying, and my oldest is behind me calling me every name under the sun....don't smile warmly at me and say, "enjoy these moments, you will miss them..."<br />
<br />
Because I just might hand them all over to you for the night, so you will remember. Remember the tough days. The sleeplessness, the struggle, and the stresses. Just so you know.<br />
<br />
Because apparently you forget.<br />
Thank God for that. I know I will, maybe, someday. Possibly. Hopefully.<br />
So just in case I do forget, which I find it hard to believe-- someday,<br />
<br />
I will have this blog to smack me back to the reminder of the reality of life with "littles." <br />
<br />
<br />
<br /></div>
Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07232816361756308076noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4537995979713666504.post-81884659752805585302015-04-20T10:36:00.000-05:002015-04-20T10:36:03.052-05:00Better Than Sex Cake..(not for the one baking it)<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
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So Jerad's birthday was yesterday, and he slept all day and worked all night. So we had a small window of celebration time in there. Because he has already installed and made use of his birthday gift...a Garmin fish finder...we didn't have any presents to open, or cards to read. So I decided to make him his favorite cake. </div>
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Let me preface this...with this...I am NOT a baker. Trust me. I have made cake pops that look like turds on a stick. <a href="http://homeonthekansasrange.blogspot.com/2013/10/no-pinterest.html" target="_blank">Cake Pop</a> (see here) And probably 12 dozen hockey pucks. Just last week I made a banana cake that burned over in the oven, nearly started a fire, and left ash all over the entire house...3 hours before we were to show the house. I seriously had to wash my hair 3 times before the smell was gone. So he better know how big of a deal this was...just for him...I prayed for supernatural favor over this process ahead of time...in fact, the plea for holy angels to come down and take over may have even been said...</div>
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I looked up the recipe. His mom makes an Italian Cream Cake, he LOVES. So I looked up online some different versions of it until I found one I liked. As I was typing it in...the "Better than Sex Cake" recipe kept coming up as an alternate name to this recipe version. As I was baking it, I kept having this thought. This cake is NOT "Better than Sex" for the one baking it. Let me tell you. Just the stress of making it could leave you needing a massage and a hot bath (which we all know leads to next) just to recover. Directions such as: Mix a portion of the buttermilk with the salt, set aside. Then add the egg yolks only. Then layer the flour in. But not too quickly. Whip the egg whites until they are stiff? (what in the heck does that mean?) Set aside. Get a 29th bowl out of your pantry and mix the sugar, coconut, cream cheese and walnuts...now that your entire kitchen is covered in dirty dishes..find enough room to pour all the ingredients together, cream. Then pour into two bowls covered in parchment paper. Place in oven...while baking, clean 3 bowls because you will need those for the frosting....and on and on....</div>
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I should have mentioned I don't like doing dishes either. So you can imagine my disgust. Anyway, 2 hours later. I had the cakes baked, frosting made, cakes layered, cake frosted. And was starting in on the dishes...</div>
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When I get this text...from Jerad, while at work>>>></div>
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Him: "Hey...I think I'm going to start a sugar-free diet tomorrow...you in??"</div>
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ME: "HECK NO. I just made you a cake, that you are going to love, and eat, whether it tastes good or not...because I made the effort. So sugar-free diet can start Monday...OK??? It's supposed to be better than sex, but I'll let you decide that..."</div>
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Him: "Ooook??" (and I won't include where this conversation went after that because I know my grandmas read this blog) :) </div>
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Anyway, it ended up tasting pretty good, believe it or not. It was VERY rich, so none of us could eat more than a few bites at a time. But I have to say, whether holy angels came down and took over (almost positive, they did) or not, I made my first "layered" cake that didn't slide off onto the floor or was burned so bad I could use it as a stepping stone outside. It was edible! Check one off for me.<br />
<br />
Happy Birthday Jerad!! <br />
<br /></div>
Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07232816361756308076noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4537995979713666504.post-49193075865042518382015-04-19T19:21:00.002-05:002016-05-18T21:16:21.095-05:00I see you...Tired..Weary..Momma<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
This morning I shuffled into church dragging Autum behind me, half-whining because I wouldn't let her choose her activity bag--it was one of those, we are running late, you get what you get situations...<br />
<br />
I sit down and do a quick once-over...two earrings in? Check. Matching shoes? Check. Shirt not tucked into panties? Check. No snot, food, or toilet paper stuck to me anywhere? Check. Food in teeth? Check.<br />
<br />
Ok, at least I eliminated most completely humiliating situations I can think of...the rest I'll just roll with. Surely I have experienced something worse...I'll survive.<br />
<br />
Take a deep breath. Sit for a second. Then stand to sing and greet one another. I look across the aisle to see a young couple quickly shooing their kids into the pew, one child a few months old, the other a early toddler...diaper bag strewn across the mommy's chest. Dad had baby at his shoulder with burp rag on his chest. Toddler was not happy with the sitting situation, nor to be rushed and shushed. And of course this all happens when singing stops and all goes quiet. (been there...) Momma plops him up on the pew on his bottom....sits the diaper bag down, and sits to do her quick once-over of herself...before realizing the rest of us are all standing to greet one another. She takes a deep breath and stands back up...and we make eye contact...<br />
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One of those...put on a fake smile, hope this make-up covers my dark circles, and that I only had time to curl the front half of my hair convinces everyone else I'm ok. I'm good. I can do this. I'm super mom. One of those, masked smiles. Masking all the emotions that can erupt at any given moment if prompted. But you are working so hard to mute. To convince the rest of us around you, you are good. And for the brief moment we made eye contact I feel like so much more was exchanged...than half-smiles. More like this feeling of:<br />
<br />
"Momma...it's ok. I get it. I didn't brush my teeth either. In fact I'm wearing workout shorts under my non-ironed dress because I have not done laundry in a week...(more like haven't had a brief moment too)...<br />
<br />
And your son had a cookie and a few chips, half an apple, and some pudding for breakfast? I know. Been there. My kids had left-over birthday cake and water. And shared the 2 pancakes leftover in the freezer. I told them if they asked for syrup they'd be walking to church by themselves.<br />
Yep. I feel you.<br />
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You cried yourself to sleep last night in total exhaustion, feeling like you aren't seen or heard...your efforts are unseen, unappreciated, unknown? Yep. I have cried tears in hidden moments too many times to count...cupboards, car rides to school, in doctor's offices, in the shower, in the middle of the night feedings...yep, all me, too. Just if someone could understand, reach out, hear you, validate your lack of getting anything done, your weariness, questioning what you are doing, will you ruin your kids...how does anyone do this moment...just someone, pleeeease?? (*sigh) I do, weary momma. I am. I do. I've been there. Over and over again.<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiFJBFPgvqew9gYWy_r_meEWsD66W8pQDqygKT13DuW2Bv6p88b3e2GAj3k3ItP22NjdfaJ3XxyEMCL4MAxDUK63VYD_2FWfn4P5WRt7olJDZm7YHZuFTvO-sO5JkTTFDv3gYkcbhVEEbDe/s1600/IMG_4816.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="300" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiFJBFPgvqew9gYWy_r_meEWsD66W8pQDqygKT13DuW2Bv6p88b3e2GAj3k3ItP22NjdfaJ3XxyEMCL4MAxDUK63VYD_2FWfn4P5WRt7olJDZm7YHZuFTvO-sO5JkTTFDv3gYkcbhVEEbDe/s1600/IMG_4816.JPG" width="400" /></a>Your dress is too tight. None of your jeans fit yet. Your hair hasn't been cut or colored in months. You don't even feel like a woman most days. Sometimes you daydream of days of old, wearing pretty dresses, make-up always done, house clean, and responsibilities few? You just wish the weight would fall off. Or you wish you had time to shop for new clothes, without 3 kids at your feet in the changing room...while you cry your new mascara down your cheeks...feeling desperate and frumpy and unattractive. I get it. I have walked out of too many changing rooms and department stores to count...just holding in the tears until I got to the car. <br />
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I know your stress. Your fears. Your pains. Your mess-ups. Your undesirable yelling fits. Your anger. Your regrets. Your constant asking for forgiveness. Your silent prayers. All the same for me. All my struggles. They are there.<br />
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Just know, this half-smile is my acknowledgement of your feelings of failure. Your feeling overwhelmed and inadequate. Yes. Me too. All validated. And understood. And this half-smile is also my encouragement. Keep fighting. Keep praying. Keep pushing through. It does get better. It does.<br />
<br />
Trust me.<br />
But for now, just know.<br />
I see you, tired, weary momma. I see you.<br />
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Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07232816361756308076noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4537995979713666504.post-40513876212702932972015-04-18T17:30:00.003-05:002015-04-18T17:34:13.916-05:00Autism Awareness<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
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April is Autism Awareness month. I have mixed feelings about months like this. Just like October is Down Syndrome Awareness month. I honestly feel like if it affects your life, you are aware of it. If it doesn't, you aren't aware of it. And I honestly am not being rude, nor care, it's just how it is. There are a lot of things that don't affect my life, I am not aware of...again, it's just the way it is.<br />
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I am very aware of both Autism and Down Syndrome. Both with my work. And my day to day life. One special need, I chose, persay. One, I didn't.<br />
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My oldest, as most of you know, was diagnosed with high-functioning Asperger's a few years ago. I honestly have mixed feelings about the reality of this diagnosis...but I know for sure we deal are dealing with some spectrum issues, sensory issues, and behavioral issues--most days. So to make you "aware" of our daily dealings with Autism, here is my explanation through experience.<br />
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Because my child has no perception of social cues...as in what is socially appropriate to say, do, wear, or believe, we live in a constant limbo of what will she do next.<br />
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<ul style="text-align: left;">
<li>Possibly answer the door when the mailman is dropping off a package...completely naked...(because it is "hot" in here, mom)</li>
<li> </li>
<li> </li>
<li>Or invite the girl in the checkout line who Leah has already given my phone number too, our home address, and her daddy's working hours too, to our house anytime...because the girl seems nice....and we can be best friends.</li>
<li> </li>
<li> </li>
<li>Or constantly interrupt a conversation you are having with someone else...getting louder and louder and in your face until you either explode or have to stop conversing and step aside with your child to ask them to wait to speak. </li>
<li> </li>
<li> </li>
<li>Naps are non-existent. Don't plan to sleep. If her eyes are open, so are yours. Even if you are dead asleep, or specifically tell her you are lying down to rest...or even lying down the other 2 "littles" to rest. DO NOT DISTURB on the door. She doesn't get it. If she has something she needs, at that moment, it is of highest importance....you will be awoken. Or the "littles" will be woke up immediately to hear or see what is on her mind. </li>
</ul>
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<ul style="text-align: left;">
<li>She lives in an adult world. In her mind. She is one. She doesn't comprehend peers and what it means to interact with people her age. She will be at a tennis camp, I will drop her off and come back only to find her not participating in tennis any longer--but sitting with the other mom's in the bleachers-asking questions. </li>
</ul>
She is highly sensitive to sight, smell, hearing, and tasting...<br />
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<ul style="text-align: left;">
<li>She feels emotion 10x more dramatically than you and I. Anxiety. Fear. Sadness. Anger. Excitement. </li>
</ul>
<br />
<ul style="text-align: left;">
<li>She can empathize with people better than anyone I know. She can sense an emotion in a person long before that person may know it or even admit it. And she will cry tears and be sad along with her teacher who is sad, and expressed her emotion one day. And she won't forget it. Guarantee she will be affected by it. And want to act upon it. And will sit with you until she feels you are happier. </li>
</ul>
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<ul style="text-align: left;">
<li>She will cry tears over a hurt animal we may have passed on the street. Or heard about on the radio. She will bring it up months later, long after we have all forgotten it, still near tears at the remembrance. </li>
</ul>
<br />
<ul style="text-align: left;">
<li>She gets excited weeks before an activity that involves her. So much so, she can't contain herself. I mean boiling over the top bubbling out of her ears, can't control it, emotional high!! And nothing or no one can stifle that. It is a beautiful and frustrating thing, all at the same time. It is her constant focus. Constant flip-flop in her mind, play each possible scenario over in her mind again and again until the day of...</li>
<li> </li>
<li> </li>
<li> She can remember what our waiter wore on her feet, 3 months ago at a fast food restaurant. She can tell you what the entire school's population is and name each person by first name. She can memorize anything and everything. </li>
</ul>
<br />
<ul style="text-align: left;">
<li>She can't properly digest sugar. Or pop. Or junk food. Or dairy products. Again, she is sensitive. Therefore her body is sensitive. She loses all control upon digestion of these foods. It is a real problem. And struggle on our part. Hard to pass up, and see your child have to pass it up at every party, get together or play date. But the aftermath is real. </li>
<li> </li>
<li> </li>
<li>She has to be on a schedule. It's 8:30 pm bedtime. Or else. Or else you are up all night, as she is thrown off by the change. As she is awake early, before everyone else-already overwhelmed by the emotions of the day. </li>
</ul>
<br />
Her world is completely "as is." As literal as it comes. Nothing figurative. Nothing "maybe." It's black or white.<br />
<br />
<ul style="text-align: left;">
<li>If you say, "hold on a minute." She will count to 60 and ask what she should hold onto.</li>
<li> </li>
<li>She is as Amelia Bedelia as they come. Tell her to put the towels upstairs...she will sit them on the first step going upstairs.</li>
<li> </li>
<li>Sarcasm is not on her radar.</li>
</ul>
<ul style="text-align: left;">
<li> Everything in her life is on the clock. Get in, get out. Look, see, do. Done. Check it off the list. Moving on. </li>
</ul>
It's taken me awhile to get used to the conversations she's constantly having with herself. Or the irritation with wearing socks because they are itchy. Or combing her hair because it hurts. Or questioning everything. <br />
<br />
Yet, she is remarkable in so many ways. Good and bad. She challenges me everyday. Many days I lose. And lose bad. But when I step back and count my blessings. I realize how much she has opened my eyes to thinking, believing, looking, and living outside the box. Outside the norm. Possibly questioning why as a society we do certain things...things I'd never think to question. It's kinda hilarious sometimes. When she stumps me with a "why do you do that?" question. One, I don't have answer for, in all reality.<br />
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Or how she requires me to slow down. To pay attention. To be by her side. Or to remind me how strong she is. How her sensitivity, zeal for life, and empathy will play out to help people someday. How God can use her. How He already is, to change my heart.<br />
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So I guess, this is me making you aware. Aware of the beautiful struggle it is somedays, to know a child on the spectrum.<br />
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Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07232816361756308076noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4537995979713666504.post-61272374115378138322015-04-16T07:55:00.002-05:002015-04-16T07:55:33.620-05:00Sights and Sounds<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
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I have made it a point to surround myself with Scripture and positive thinking through books, social media, and anything else I feel I can glean wisdom from, over the past 6 months. I have needed to reframe my thinking, my prayers, my motives, my heart...so to speak. And it started with my thoughts. So as I tuned myself into the words being written or spoken around me, and made myself vulnerable to the meaning, and was astounded by the timing-the seemingly clear affirmation to my prayers, questions or concerns at that moment. It is a true revelation to the gracious goodness of our Lord, and His sovereignty. He speaks to me in so many ways, if only I slow down enough to listen, and see.<br />
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For example, during a time of questioning working outside of the home or staying home...whether God was asking me to begin a time of rest...in fact, a year of rest...boom! >><br />
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When debating whether to semi-retire from CrossFit and forfeit the Open this year, to focus on my family and my marriage....THIS>><br />
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When my true motives for working out and pushing myself were being revealed in my heart...>><br />
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When we got a contract on our house and have no clear direction where to move and how we are going to find another house in 45 days...this exact image showed up 4 times on my IG account that day...>><br />
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<img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgq8cTtjuNlFMgPauy4o1V-nqZ5KA77PKRTzKODx5-WbQHnyas820C_5Az1v7LneSRpoRm-D26rlkPO5iumGnELRb8FUD4vLDR36gMi5fVIJ_idp9IkNvrzN63-qdaNQcWQKx35Gl7aa311/s1600/IMG_5553%5B1%5D.PNG" height="400" width="266" />When feeling convicted very recently of how I have lost track of living missionally, how I have gotten caught up in social media posts and "making a life" for myself, a name for myself, upholding an image....I read this << and then, this >></div>
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Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07232816361756308076noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4537995979713666504.post-4697237684192675242015-04-14T13:54:00.002-05:002015-04-14T13:54:29.383-05:00Daddy's & Nanny's Birthday<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
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Reading Nanny her card. (handwritten by Autum)<iframe allowfullscreen='allowfullscreen' webkitallowfullscreen='webkitallowfullscreen' mozallowfullscreen='mozallowfullscreen' width='320' height='266' src='https://www.blogger.com/video.g?token=AD6v5dyZA3OQ079w9o6QDCrLG-WZROetsbPQcfCbUf-HD056IT7WrsEsuLYQFlAz7SK-p_QGklzvtElr_mKwisWwZw' class='b-hbp-video b-uploaded' frameborder='0'></iframe></div>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgpFcagc5m7hImUDC04vvzo2FoofODAE9i-6ZgmJO9Lcr1j-AHoE4-3HZq4NPmvRyfnpXRcLhNCT1DabXRv56PQjrsU0oXZpuSy555lxWshoQhTVjZwCOJC_UnVFQQ56-kpjQgz8QIUSS06/s1600/IMG_5469.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgpFcagc5m7hImUDC04vvzo2FoofODAE9i-6ZgmJO9Lcr1j-AHoE4-3HZq4NPmvRyfnpXRcLhNCT1DabXRv56PQjrsU0oXZpuSy555lxWshoQhTVjZwCOJC_UnVFQQ56-kpjQgz8QIUSS06/s1600/IMG_5469.JPG" height="400" width="300" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">This boy was in Heaven with his sandbox and digger.</td></tr>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">The girls even got in on the digging.</td></tr>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Leah was the dinner server for the night. Pot holder hairnet and all! :)</td></tr>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Blowing out the strawberry cake candles for daddy.</td></tr>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Opening his presents.</td></tr>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Reading his gift cards.</td></tr>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Throwing the tissue paper.</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEimyuADyPzviIA74khyphenhyphenLVrtTU9AEaOSyUwzIXustdlPi9l1jE7ZKzkullKqN3QFaOd-vov-0-vfUQpp3Psyh9jsUvRRCg99O-_wIU8IULvnDcyBW4zkJxGikyfU1I99YSJTX-BLeq7xj2Zw/s1600/IMG_5486.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEimyuADyPzviIA74khyphenhyphenLVrtTU9AEaOSyUwzIXustdlPi9l1jE7ZKzkullKqN3QFaOd-vov-0-vfUQpp3Psyh9jsUvRRCg99O-_wIU8IULvnDcyBW4zkJxGikyfU1I99YSJTX-BLeq7xj2Zw/s1600/IMG_5486.JPG" height="400" width="300" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Singing and reading Nanny her card Autum wrote (in scribbles)--she was the only one who knew what it said.</td></tr>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Leaving on last mark on Mimi and Papa's back patio before we left.</td></tr>
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We spent the only weekend Jerad has off in awhile in Cherokee. We celebrated his and his grandmother's birthday (Nanny), a week early. We had steaks, potatoes, strawberry pie, cookies, big breakfast, and lots of tea. The kid's went to the Family Fun Fair--where Autum won a new bike! They played the cake walk over and over, winning cans of pop, candy, toys, juice, and lots of other sugary goodies. They played with the neighbor kids. Did their make-up and hairstyle. Played house and teacher. Dug around in their new sand box and digger. Played ball. Drew with the chalk. And we relaxed. Sat around and chatted. Took a nap or two. And did nothing. And it was great. Always nice to unwind away from home.<br />
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Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07232816361756308076noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4537995979713666504.post-61525958432100096822015-04-10T11:22:00.001-05:002015-04-10T11:22:06.632-05:00How We Road Trip<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
With 3 "littles" the packing and prepping for a road trip, even just overnight, is a longer process than the actual trip lasts. I find myself preparing for the preparation to leave. It's a process, for sure. An organized chaos, if you will.<br />
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Here's a quick list of what goes through my mind when I am preparing for us to leave.<br />
1) Crap! Now I have to do the laundry, and actually fold it. Can't live out of the laundry basket on the road. (although it's crossed my mind a few times)<br />
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2) I suppose while I'm at the laundry I should throw in some towels..and that reminds me I should probably wash the pee-pee covered sheets I threw 2 towels over in the middle of the night after a 3 a.m.wake-up call to this occurrence and my sleep-deprived quick-fix. <br />
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3) Now to the electronics. Where are all the freakin' cords to charge them all? And which cords go to which electronic device. IPads, LeapPads, iPods, Kindle, DVD Player...cell phones...<br />
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4) Which leads to headphones...I can only take so much "Call Me Maybe" and "Let it Go" played out loud...let alone the off-key, not realizing how loud you are singing chords ripping through to the front seat from way in the back. So headphones for everyone. Problem solved. Sometimes even headphones, used as ear plugs for mom and dad, when the DVD players, books, snacks, toys, and IPads wear off the last 30 minutes of the trip and screaming and crying ensues...<br />
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5) Snacks. My bottomless pits. NEED. snacks. But I have to put some thought into this after previous mishaps with snacks. No suckers. Blake hates suckers. Last time we tried a sucker in the van...he threw it over my seat and it stuck in my hair. Talk about a ratty, sticky, ANGRY mess...also, no chocolate. Autum likes to savor her chocolate. From her chocolate beard, dripping down her chin to the last melted drop running down the side of the booster seat and chair, all the way to the floor-in a nice stained mess. No nuts, chex mix, sweet and salty, seasoned anything...because that smell is enough to make me puke and dust every inch of my van and myself in seasoning powder. Nothing like showing up to your destination smelling like the "Salt and Vinegar and Black Pepper family." So bland, no sticky, melting, smelly food. Cheerios. Popcorn. Tortilla chips. Apple slices. Things I can sweep up off the floor no matter how crunched into the carpet it gets. Those kind.<br />
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6) With the snacks, comes wet wipes. Trash bags. One for trash. One for puke. Because I have been known to need a puke sack after turning around in my seat 6, 578 times to settle fights, pick up dropped snacks, type in 400 parental control passwords, change DVD players, refill water cups, sniff bottoms to see who pooped or peed or just a stray gas bubble. Or just give a simple "COME TO JESUS MEETING" about zipping our lips and simply asking why no one can simply go to sleep...seriously, why do my kids NOT sleep in the car???<br />
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7) Then pack bags. I have learned to do a bag check after I've already packed the bags. Sometimes even twice. After getting to grandmas and Leah forgetting to pack her panties. Or getting to a motel and Autum decided to unpack her bag and redo it herself, only packing 3 pairs of panties and 4 dollies...nothing else. I have made it a habit to pack the bags, zip them up, and place them in a high place until we leave. And rechecking them before we load the van, just one more time.<br />
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8) Then drinks. Sippy cups all around. I don't care if you are almost 9....you will drink out of a non-spillable cup with a lid. No one will know you are using a baby cup. It will last longer because you will have to slurp it, so be glad you have something to drink and stop complaining. I promise I won't post any pics of you slurping your sippy cup of water. No milk, don't even ask. No. No. No. We all know the stench of those cups found a week later under a seat. Bleh.<br />
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9) And for some reason I always pack a book for myself, or a magazine. To which never gets touched. Usually just spilled on or a few pages of it are used for toilet paper during an emergency roadside stop to poop. Hey! Better than giving up my sock. Just saying. <br />
I feel like I pack it as a hope...a glimmering hope that someday my kids will entertain themselves or sleep, or be able to type in their own parental control passwords (ha!) so I can read in peace...and not have to sacrifice page 19 for emergency situations.<br />
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...so anyway, just a few thoughts on this beautiful thing we call vacation...</div>
Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07232816361756308076noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4537995979713666504.post-47562923258366716622015-04-08T16:31:00.001-05:002015-04-08T16:31:17.176-05:00So many Lose 10 lb. Journeys<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
I was looking for something else and became distracted upon finding a journal I spent some time writing in during college. I had been married 7 months. I was 22 years old. And I was training for a half-marathon in April in Oklahoma City. I scrolled down through my food log for that particular day...<br />
<br />
Jan 5, 2005<br />
1 glass OJ<br />
1 c. oatmeal<br />
1 frosted cookie<br />
1/2 c. peaches<br />
1 1/2 c. whole wheat spaghetti<br />
1 c. tomato sauce<br />
1 cheesy breadstick<br />
3 Nutter Butter's<br />
4 slices cheese<br />
4 whole wheat crackers<br />
1/2 can Dr. Pepper<br />
1 c. Stroganoff<br />
1/2 slice Cinnamon Dessert<br />
<br />
Arm/Back Day<br />
Cardio Rest Day<br />
<br />
My first thoughts were:<br />
1. Man I had a lot of time back then...if only I had known.<br />
<br />
2. How did I remember what all I ate? I can't even tell you what I snacked on an hour ago. (I guess I should note #1)<br />
<br />
3. Starches. Starches. Starches. This was before Paleo was all the craze. And I realized I had some allergies to wheat.<br />
<br />
4. Dr Pepper? Haha. That was definitely a habit I started from my new hubby! That was never an option growing up at home. Diet pop was the "healthier choice" and growing up in an aerobics instructor's house...you always went the healthy route. *note sarcasm<br />
<br />
I read on down and found this excerpt..."This is the first day I will begin my journey toward losing 10 lbs. and training for a Half Marathon April 29th. (I can't tell you how many 10 lb. journeys I have been on since then!!) Then I nearly died when I saw this:<br />
Current weight: 134 lbs.<br />
Waist: 26"<br />
Hips: 36 1/2"<br />
<br />
WHAAAA?? 134 lbs.?!! I didn't think I had weighed that since 8th grade. Seriously. And I was on a journey to lose 10 more...whoa.<br />
I sat back and began to think back through my athletic life. And I could almost name what my scale weight was around any significant physical endeavor I was pursuing.<br />
<br />
Senior year...college softball recruiting camps....127# (I was told several times I was too thin)<br />
Wedding...June 2004....128# <br />
Half-Marathon-April 29, 2005 (dropped 5 lbs.--129#)<br />
9 months pregnant with Leah... May 2006....153#<br />
1st Marathon--Leah was 2 years old...130#<br />
Triathlons...Summer 2009...135#<br />
Started doing CrossFit 2009ish...135#<br />
<br />
And from then on....I could not tell you what I weighed. Maybe when I had Autum I was about 165#....<br />
<br />
I realized several things at that point. One, how sad it is to realize that the scale dictated me. And my life. How could I remember so specifically my weights from so long ago? Well, because it was clearly very important to me. It was a center focus.<br />
<br />
And now I am faced with the question of: was it what drove me? Did I just mask my obsession with being "fit" and "skinny" with a determination to compete in sports and races? Deep down...did I really care how I competed or placed...so long as I hit my goal weight and used training as a motivator to get there...? (not saying that is wrong...yet)<br />
<br />
I sat quietly awhile. Contemplating this.<br />
Lifting weights and doing CrossFit and training with other people was a huge turning point in my obsession with the scale. And I didn't even realize it til now. I could probably tell you more closely what my strength maxes were on certain lifts more than what I weighed the past 4 years. <br />
<br />
But to dig down, what was the power the scale number had over me? Why did it mean so much? What bigger issue did I have at hand? Lack of self-esteem? Body disorder? Need to please? Pride in my appearance? Or just lack of anything else to focus on and control? Passion for fitness? Need to uphold an image?<br />
<br />
Probably all of the above.<br />
That IS. ANNOYING. to me. Now.<br />
<br />
Huh. Moving on.<br />
<br />
All I know is I'm so grateful for the opportunity to change. For a chance to face this 'skinny' stigma head on with my girl's. To have experienced it and hopefully be able to empathize better. To have shaken off that "chain." For strength. For feeling strong. For health. <br />
<br />
<br />
And to honestly not have that much time on my hands to obsess about a scale number. Ha! Because now I obsess over things like how to get that carrot chunk out of my child's nose. Or how to get your oldest to wear deodorant-because who cares if your armpits stink.<br />
<br />
And on...and on.<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<br /></div>
Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07232816361756308076noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4537995979713666504.post-40111079509175592482015-04-06T09:59:00.000-05:002015-04-06T09:59:57.845-05:00Poopy Easter<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
<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="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgzRdXsTMSI8avKHTLyVehklFrxjdSUgelHHav5snmUpZt8wFFEm_TH5uXpISWo2vs10J8QSb8JhtDx_oN7mlBoHYZTTTyBR2RTundlnDqDZtwNd9RZbAJh7mRfHo1PRAPUcCGmj2mJ1pzu/s1600/IMG_5302.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgzRdXsTMSI8avKHTLyVehklFrxjdSUgelHHav5snmUpZt8wFFEm_TH5uXpISWo2vs10J8QSb8JhtDx_oN7mlBoHYZTTTyBR2RTundlnDqDZtwNd9RZbAJh7mRfHo1PRAPUcCGmj2mJ1pzu/s1600/IMG_5302.JPG" height="300" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Daddy's morning pic of the day! Super Duper!</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
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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="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg-jWk69Wu_atHVHy2MGzWUyyNADor0w3IpxuR8wX5PjzQBg2pFoRnnmfI3Z_cgZSNszuys9Dg_8PPDUQasNzBklPGy9SFTbGxtbRZtsIsdffQMtd4JFL35Rvr7lsIN4DwRmbr8yDSOJG51/s1600/IMG_5324.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg-jWk69Wu_atHVHy2MGzWUyyNADor0w3IpxuR8wX5PjzQBg2pFoRnnmfI3Z_cgZSNszuys9Dg_8PPDUQasNzBklPGy9SFTbGxtbRZtsIsdffQMtd4JFL35Rvr7lsIN4DwRmbr8yDSOJG51/s1600/IMG_5324.JPG" height="400" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">This was an IG post I made. Blake was signing "poop" while we were trapped in the Walmart line...forEVER.</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
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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="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhYeoqmbyM8-zNJhS6KihD2FzUk16y1D984AueAiKHePUWrCVxYx4Bq8qyeV-Hzu-ervdZmdnrRdMA3TQR8cLDlGCQn79JUNCFcWltfMA72ZwJdvppbljYZoQFJ-PULzUtX9bjEn_RsQk7r/s1600/IMG_5325.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhYeoqmbyM8-zNJhS6KihD2FzUk16y1D984AueAiKHePUWrCVxYx4Bq8qyeV-Hzu-ervdZmdnrRdMA3TQR8cLDlGCQn79JUNCFcWltfMA72ZwJdvppbljYZoQFJ-PULzUtX9bjEn_RsQk7r/s1600/IMG_5325.JPG" height="400" width="300" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Playdate at the park. Skipping rocks.</td></tr>
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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="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhdkMF_CWVJOLsBR20IOsMrp3OMLtqSG47fu42YGFIP69RU-DJ1LLS-TCKjlB8h9rsg8imebfGDg6bihLwsq4sVHsBwEsM7ijJ249bfqrTnpE5mlrWrp79aFrEMPH2Y-sBFmqbjCpVbW_rX/s1600/IMG_5333.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhdkMF_CWVJOLsBR20IOsMrp3OMLtqSG47fu42YGFIP69RU-DJ1LLS-TCKjlB8h9rsg8imebfGDg6bihLwsq4sVHsBwEsM7ijJ249bfqrTnpE5mlrWrp79aFrEMPH2Y-sBFmqbjCpVbW_rX/s1600/IMG_5333.JPG" height="400" width="300" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">The boys.</td></tr>
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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="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiLsVayKx_oHz4K6UsTVlhJj7BKmCA6lDsHG6H9KvZ9EksikB0PIZJLLKS0voS0Bwxf8zXrxcZxin6JLOyiysCW7Lk2sVUFUPd0XkLsZc0Wz5saMjC3REmSks44OrvwxdN6gHUuRNJRw0cB/s1600/IMG_5335.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiLsVayKx_oHz4K6UsTVlhJj7BKmCA6lDsHG6H9KvZ9EksikB0PIZJLLKS0voS0Bwxf8zXrxcZxin6JLOyiysCW7Lk2sVUFUPd0XkLsZc0Wz5saMjC3REmSks44OrvwxdN6gHUuRNJRw0cB/s1600/IMG_5335.JPG" height="400" width="300" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Fishing derby with Papa.</td></tr>
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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="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhLTG4ec_VB9YZpWLzvDo8LkNAOK8yncLdYW9Ox1JjTcdzhsRXKRGpVXGWY7GdKPY8No8wDiWAmEH45BevdMuLw8QYBYasldWqZ-YYxJwxLu2xO7LJHnUr90kdP_IKqXLR9SSNd4wm2y_cZ/s1600/IMG_5340.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhLTG4ec_VB9YZpWLzvDo8LkNAOK8yncLdYW9Ox1JjTcdzhsRXKRGpVXGWY7GdKPY8No8wDiWAmEH45BevdMuLw8QYBYasldWqZ-YYxJwxLu2xO7LJHnUr90kdP_IKqXLR9SSNd4wm2y_cZ/s1600/IMG_5340.JPG" height="400" width="300" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">One product from the fishing derby at Papa's.</td></tr>
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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="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh7gdrT-U5UerY_sMunztvPrB-7z5vrP_GReUHap7lNcS3sWJ8ojZxf_Lkv9xzdjuca3KKjis9Qw9i-q-ahl_X56anvdDiBOZ24ToFTefphIgvbeotIZSCLpwIttNmrLhIIjF2w_cq5iTuX/s1600/IMG_5343.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh7gdrT-U5UerY_sMunztvPrB-7z5vrP_GReUHap7lNcS3sWJ8ojZxf_Lkv9xzdjuca3KKjis9Qw9i-q-ahl_X56anvdDiBOZ24ToFTefphIgvbeotIZSCLpwIttNmrLhIIjF2w_cq5iTuX/s1600/IMG_5343.JPG" height="300" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Leah helping out a tired Easter egg hunter.</td></tr>
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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="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEirhva-rnQ9T5oLeJC5a06bPrgwvvVX4u-cRSRvdql1b-JbB1NcBX3VakiEJiVioKzhXvpW1Ype7Wxw2DtlR2M5JJCZPCk8fkBoofTNY6c5qdENUBPUnKLCStIfw2onG_YvZWETTwCdqzJW/s1600/IMG_5344.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEirhva-rnQ9T5oLeJC5a06bPrgwvvVX4u-cRSRvdql1b-JbB1NcBX3VakiEJiVioKzhXvpW1Ype7Wxw2DtlR2M5JJCZPCk8fkBoofTNY6c5qdENUBPUnKLCStIfw2onG_YvZWETTwCdqzJW/s1600/IMG_5344.JPG" height="300" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Great Grandmas analyzing the egg hunt.</td></tr>
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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="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiYyhUblx0BZB_5U5ACetvUwScIhi2xzmiefucBXHKXw8yMjLBEDsPEoBMWh5nkn1ahn31Kt21J3p1NMVP-EP89ho4Z-HWa81eAzIIcm6Y2b6laF-yxEGHBsu7NwM1XIyCkh3LlYSK6izv8/s1600/IMG_5345.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiYyhUblx0BZB_5U5ACetvUwScIhi2xzmiefucBXHKXw8yMjLBEDsPEoBMWh5nkn1ahn31Kt21J3p1NMVP-EP89ho4Z-HWa81eAzIIcm6Y2b6laF-yxEGHBsu7NwM1XIyCkh3LlYSK6izv8/s1600/IMG_5345.JPG" height="300" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Blake had more fun washing his eggs and rocks than hunting them.</td></tr>
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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="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgK4Gi4BEvK-bvOvYRu_jyXLwlBJzAM5QGGqvzzw6I6VV7XcrV1WWd_AP68_gMu3Rm7S1Az67_leJj4QJVS066F3AXNlYTGpp2wW1mMOY6owWkdfTDXB2zMXJFcpG_iQu4R4prn6C5N3YyQ/s1600/IMG_5348.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgK4Gi4BEvK-bvOvYRu_jyXLwlBJzAM5QGGqvzzw6I6VV7XcrV1WWd_AP68_gMu3Rm7S1Az67_leJj4QJVS066F3AXNlYTGpp2wW1mMOY6owWkdfTDXB2zMXJFcpG_iQu4R4prn6C5N3YyQ/s1600/IMG_5348.JPG" height="400" width="300" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Prepping. But nervous. She was a trooper.</td></tr>
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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="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEixu1jCwtiaKOOCVL2-nXlDn8Dr6CSobqOn1jOJ4gNcPMCygnsUJa0bew_2P-snngISLf1rs8PdD6v-smF2yeguJU40xrKPh4I_pESfbtx9UX8cRS_rUGtFF62p2HUuTTOdhNO8XS7O7LN0/s1600/IMG_5349.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEixu1jCwtiaKOOCVL2-nXlDn8Dr6CSobqOn1jOJ4gNcPMCygnsUJa0bew_2P-snngISLf1rs8PdD6v-smF2yeguJU40xrKPh4I_pESfbtx9UX8cRS_rUGtFF62p2HUuTTOdhNO8XS7O7LN0/s1600/IMG_5349.JPG" height="400" width="300" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Big Sister got new earrings.</td></tr>
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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="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgoY-FaYd702mSqk3HUs7GZBqzhYaC_ElAcrU5KB7v-inaHFoIjTKxOM8qTNhGAGgnIIhQkJZhwgcXBKeql_NrvxpY5bzi8S2dgBO1MvRNtUtEoujqbJ2DMZmThFK_oUUN3Rg8JMZCOAHi_/s1600/IMG_5350.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgoY-FaYd702mSqk3HUs7GZBqzhYaC_ElAcrU5KB7v-inaHFoIjTKxOM8qTNhGAGgnIIhQkJZhwgcXBKeql_NrvxpY5bzi8S2dgBO1MvRNtUtEoujqbJ2DMZmThFK_oUUN3Rg8JMZCOAHi_/s1600/IMG_5350.JPG" height="400" width="300" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Great Grandma and Baby</td></tr>
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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="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiXHAfJmVA2d59NBb7M_Xb1tWqI38Eq8IBQv5mpK6WMZyGLNaRpGpVCx0g05lWkh3zCeHOsUii0zTilciV8hDcwT1NeAPsIvuEgW5EhZZNFR-5s2InpcwHVIDb8c2ago9pEK4rf7WMfF5i7/s1600/IMG_5366.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiXHAfJmVA2d59NBb7M_Xb1tWqI38Eq8IBQv5mpK6WMZyGLNaRpGpVCx0g05lWkh3zCeHOsUii0zTilciV8hDcwT1NeAPsIvuEgW5EhZZNFR-5s2InpcwHVIDb8c2ago9pEK4rf7WMfF5i7/s1600/IMG_5366.JPG" height="400" width="300" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">My sweet sis and hubby, and of course Baby Luke.</td></tr>
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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="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiQTepVnYhfNhTgriwUYUBtGDj54QsIDMaOV98XrZVgi6vofOxbHR1o8Djd9WegdbhdRNmuA2_9g5Us4MVzJmmGJpa7svvh_N4n79SfGAYY7FPmULx-Iy5U6K1PsumJiXxNhbIjqmYKoivQ/s1600/IMG_5359.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiQTepVnYhfNhTgriwUYUBtGDj54QsIDMaOV98XrZVgi6vofOxbHR1o8Djd9WegdbhdRNmuA2_9g5Us4MVzJmmGJpa7svvh_N4n79SfGAYY7FPmULx-Iy5U6K1PsumJiXxNhbIjqmYKoivQ/s1600/IMG_5359.JPG" height="400" width="300" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">My personal fav.</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
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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="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjMYtGrq8R-oVVIiWSEJVPY3RQKvJU_uFfdapOwl992APgeRCyB54GlWswWkcGM_VN7-ViyXVmMBcEwpYX3hwNb0InRh4XVtbF41jJA7h4ghT9uFHbEhQIk2JOWfyDPaEH02Zu6fgOlLQyM/s1600/IMG_5360.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjMYtGrq8R-oVVIiWSEJVPY3RQKvJU_uFfdapOwl992APgeRCyB54GlWswWkcGM_VN7-ViyXVmMBcEwpYX3hwNb0InRh4XVtbF41jJA7h4ghT9uFHbEhQIk2JOWfyDPaEH02Zu6fgOlLQyM/s1600/IMG_5360.JPG" height="400" width="300" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Leah's tense pose.</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="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgAP-brRS2-EvGXz37jcx6RYr6srzteqE83uJGJuUUlK_JUXISvumJWHsMy9KSZ-Z5y65xgdtE03-XVyT3hAnnVUAxWdLqg0bDEzAGY_nxWjCgQVeNWHt70xOv6g2r-y4ZIZHBmmZ0EHq7U/s1600/IMG_9682.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgAP-brRS2-EvGXz37jcx6RYr6srzteqE83uJGJuUUlK_JUXISvumJWHsMy9KSZ-Z5y65xgdtE03-XVyT3hAnnVUAxWdLqg0bDEzAGY_nxWjCgQVeNWHt70xOv6g2r-y4ZIZHBmmZ0EHq7U/s1600/IMG_9682.JPG" height="266" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">...and Blake's done. Out.</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="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgwdfBRZyB-vF-TZzZcTbfNQMBsI2fNTlpuE6_IqZcnqJbS4hg5DTIcKo9vwEfEwpfpUAkU-GQAGpjb6-yG40SYqXdvvXsxhT-ZlkDLkuB7Lz2h3J8Mg7xwrHc__Gp-Aeu5E6qSXHGv3Gop/s1600/IMG_9683.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgwdfBRZyB-vF-TZzZcTbfNQMBsI2fNTlpuE6_IqZcnqJbS4hg5DTIcKo9vwEfEwpfpUAkU-GQAGpjb6-yG40SYqXdvvXsxhT-ZlkDLkuB7Lz2h3J8Mg7xwrHc__Gp-Aeu5E6qSXHGv3Gop/s1600/IMG_9683.JPG" height="266" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Leah's, "I'm done with this" smile.</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
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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="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj1fq3qmQg1CL53BN-KjuHQbBc4RnJBtEpRVR5a7tDjgPChfm0tF0SrWXier0W_bEioC_bqfNSwU_2MWExp7N-WaWjDp92rfUYpRoZKIcfmlVZc-MCe6xx3__p05oCkYveODe-KSDPaZ6JU/s1600/IMG_9686.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj1fq3qmQg1CL53BN-KjuHQbBc4RnJBtEpRVR5a7tDjgPChfm0tF0SrWXier0W_bEioC_bqfNSwU_2MWExp7N-WaWjDp92rfUYpRoZKIcfmlVZc-MCe6xx3__p05oCkYveODe-KSDPaZ6JU/s1600/IMG_9686.JPG" height="400" width="266" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Annnnd. Blake's sleeping.</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
I cried a lot yesterday.<br />
<br />
First because of my overwhelming sense of thankfulness and joy that seemed to be spilling out from my soul during church yesterday. The tears streaming down my face were from down deep, as if they had been sitting there awhile...stagnant. Just waiting for me to release them...as if being cleansed. And as they dropped down my cheeks onto my arms, I felt lighter and lighter. Like I couldn't stand tall enough in my church pew...I felt light. Airy. Supernatural.<br />
<br />
Easter. He is risen. I am free.<br />
I posted on IG yesterday...<a href="https://instagram.com/p/1GccbzDipz/?taken-by=awhomegym" target="_blank">https://instagram.com/p/1GccbzDipz/?taken-by=awhomegym</a><br />
<h3 class="sCaption" data-reactid=".8.0.1.0.1.0.0.1.0.0.0:0.1.2:1" style="text-align: left;">
<i><span data-reactid=".8.0.1.0.1.0.0.1.0.0.0:0.1.2:1.$text0:0:$text0:0">"Let
me tell you..I stood in church this morning. Tears running down my
face. I couldn't stand tall enough or reach high enough in my chair.
Today I stood among rapists, adulterers, thiefs, addicts, cussers,
gossipers, speed limit breakers, name-callers...all over the world. And
praised </span><a data-reactid=".8.0.1.0.1.0.0.1.0.0.0:0.1.2:1.$text0:0:$entity0:0" href="https://instagram.com/explore/tags/god/">#God</a><span data-reactid=".8.0.1.0.1.0.0.1.0.0.0:0.1.2:1.$text0:0:$text1:0">.
I am redeemed! I am no better or no worse than anyone else because I
was condemned with my first sin. But not any longer. Not because of
today. </span><a data-reactid=".8.0.1.0.1.0.0.1.0.0.0:0.1.2:1.$text0:0:$entity1:0" href="https://instagram.com/explore/tags/easter/">#Easter</a><span data-reactid=".8.0.1.0.1.0.0.1.0.0.0:0.1.2:1.$text0:0:$text2:0">. I am </span><a data-reactid=".8.0.1.0.1.0.0.1.0.0.0:0.1.2:1.$text0:0:$entity2:0" href="https://instagram.com/explore/tags/cleansed/">#cleansed</a><span data-reactid=".8.0.1.0.1.0.0.1.0.0.0:0.1.2:1.$text0:0:$text3:0">. </span><a data-reactid=".8.0.1.0.1.0.0.1.0.0.0:0.1.2:1.$text0:0:$entity3:0" href="https://instagram.com/explore/tags/forgiven/">#Forgiven</a><span data-reactid=".8.0.1.0.1.0.0.1.0.0.0:0.1.2:1.$text0:0:$text4:0">. </span><a data-reactid=".8.0.1.0.1.0.0.1.0.0.0:0.1.2:1.$text0:0:$entity4:0" href="https://instagram.com/explore/tags/loved/">#Loved</a><span data-reactid=".8.0.1.0.1.0.0.1.0.0.0:0.1.2:1.$text0:0:$end:0">. And given life." </span><br data-reactid=".8.0.1.0.1.0.0.1.0.0.0:0.1.2:1.$newline1:0" /><a data-reactid=".8.0.1.0.1.0.0.1.0.0.0:0.1.2:1.$text2:0:$entity0:0" href="https://instagram.com/explore/tags/hallelujah/">#HALLELUJAH</a><span data-reactid=".8.0.1.0.1.0.0.1.0.0.0:0.1.2:1.$text2:0:$text1:0"> </span><a data-reactid=".8.0.1.0.1.0.0.1.0.0.0:0.1.2:1.$text2:0:$entity1:0" href="https://instagram.com/explore/tags/heislord/">#HeisLord</a><span data-reactid=".8.0.1.0.1.0.0.1.0.0.0:0.1.2:1.$text2:0:$text2:0"> </span><a data-reactid=".8.0.1.0.1.0.0.1.0.0.0:0.1.2:1.$text2:0:$entity2:0" href="https://instagram.com/explore/tags/yearofthanks/">#yearofthanks</a><span data-reactid=".8.0.1.0.1.0.0.1.0.0.0:0.1.2:1.$text2:0:$text3:0"> </span><a data-reactid=".8.0.1.0.1.0.0.1.0.0.0:0.1.2:1.$text2:0:$entity3:0" href="https://instagram.com/explore/tags/praisegod/">#praisegod</a><span data-reactid=".8.0.1.0.1.0.0.1.0.0.0:0.1.2:1.$text2:0:$text4:0"> </span><a data-reactid=".8.0.1.0.1.0.0.1.0.0.0:0.1.2:1.$text2:0:$entity4:0" href="https://instagram.com/explore/tags/fitfam/">#fitfam</a><span data-reactid=".8.0.1.0.1.0.0.1.0.0.0:0.1.2:1.$text2:0:$text5:0"> </span><a data-reactid=".8.0.1.0.1.0.0.1.0.0.0:0.1.2:1.$text2:0:$entity5:0" href="https://instagram.com/explore/tags/christianathlete/">#christianathlete</a><span data-reactid=".8.0.1.0.1.0.0.1.0.0.0:0.1.2:1.$text2:0:$text6:0"> </span><a data-reactid=".8.0.1.0.1.0.0.1.0.0.0:0.1.2:1.$text2:0:$entity6:0" href="https://instagram.com/explore/tags/homeonksrange/">#homeonksrange</a><span data-reactid=".8.0.1.0.1.0.0.1.0.0.0:0.1.2:1.$text2:0:$text7:0"> </span><a data-reactid=".8.0.1.0.1.0.0.1.0.0.0:0.1.2:1.$text2:0:$entity7:0" href="https://instagram.com/explore/tags/homegym/">#homegym</a><span data-reactid=".8.0.1.0.1.0.0.1.0.0.0:0.1.2:1.$text2:0:$text8:0"> </span><a data-reactid=".8.0.1.0.1.0.0.1.0.0.0:0.1.2:1.$text2:0:$entity8:0" href="https://instagram.com/explore/tags/fitspiration/">#fitspiration</a><span data-reactid=".8.0.1.0.1.0.0.1.0.0.0:0.1.2:1.$text2:0:$text9:0"> </span><a data-reactid=".8.0.1.0.1.0.0.1.0.0.0:0.1.2:1.$text2:0:$entity9:0" href="https://instagram.com/explore/tags/praise/">#praise</a><span data-reactid=".8.0.1.0.1.0.0.1.0.0.0:0.1.2:1.$text2:0:$text10:0"> </span><a data-reactid=".8.0.1.0.1.0.0.1.0.0.0:0.1.2:1.$text2:0:$entity10:0" href="https://instagram.com/explore/tags/easter/">#easter</a></i></h3>
<div class="sCaption" data-reactid=".8.0.1.0.1.0.0.1.0.0.0:0.1.2:1" style="text-align: left;">
Then, we had to run to Walmart to get Jerad some shaving cream. As we pulled into the parking lot a homeless man with a sign was sitting on the curb...with, most likely, his own friend, his dog. And I drove past, said a prayer for him, and read his sign: "Please help. Need sleeping bag. Dog food. Hungry<i>."</i></div>
<div class="sCaption" data-reactid=".8.0.1.0.1.0.0.1.0.0.0:0.1.2:1" style="text-align: left;">
And my heart was moved again. I felt lead to help him. And was nearly brought to tears again when my first thought was affirmed...because both girls said "Mom, we need to help him. Pleeeeease."</div>
<div class="sCaption" data-reactid=".8.0.1.0.1.0.0.1.0.0.0:0.1.2:1" style="text-align: left;">
<br /></div>
<div class="sCaption" data-reactid=".8.0.1.0.1.0.0.1.0.0.0:0.1.2:1" style="text-align: left;">
So we headed into Walmart and we got him what he needed. And then they decided to get him some bread. Lunch meat. A jug of water. Some snacks. Some bananas. And my heart was again, overwhelmed. Tears. More tears. At my children's gentle prompting to help. And their willingness to follow suit, in their innocence. No judgment. (as I fought back the nay-sayers in my head saying "tell him to get a job. Help himself. His dog isn't important. Why waste food on his animal when he needs food? Someone else can help him...")</div>
<div class="sCaption" data-reactid=".8.0.1.0.1.0.0.1.0.0.0:0.1.2:1" style="text-align: left;">
<br /></div>
<div class="sCaption" data-reactid=".8.0.1.0.1.0.0.1.0.0.0:0.1.2:1" style="text-align: left;">
We walked back out and gave him his goods. Pet his dog. Talked to him awhile. Looked into his eyes. And we prayed for him as we left.</div>
<div class="sCaption" data-reactid=".8.0.1.0.1.0.0.1.0.0.0:0.1.2:1" style="text-align: left;">
<br /></div>
<div class="sCaption" data-reactid=".8.0.1.0.1.0.0.1.0.0.0:0.1.2:1" style="text-align: left;">
And then we got home. Found out we had a house showing. I was single-momming it today. And already emotionally drained. But we pushed onward. Cleaned our house. Got it all squeaky clean and headed outside to play. I realized after awhile that one child didn't follow us outside. So I went to check,, assuming he was watching his cartoons or playing with his toys. I hear him in the bathroom and the panic sets in. I could smell it before I saw it. And I hit my knees when I saw the bathroom. Mess. Everywhere. Him. Floor. Floormats. Wall. Toilet. Shoes. Socks. Trashcan. </div>
<div class="sCaption" data-reactid=".8.0.1.0.1.0.0.1.0.0.0:0.1.2:1" style="text-align: left;">
<br /></div>
<div class="sCaption" data-reactid=".8.0.1.0.1.0.0.1.0.0.0:0.1.2:1" style="text-align: left;">
And again, the tears hit. I threw the mats in the laundry. Scrubbed the walls, floor, toilet. Threw my child in the shower. Prayed for God's strength. Knowing He saw me. Knew my efforts. Tried to cool down. I already lost my cool on the girls for no reason, while caught up in the moment, and their ill-timed demands and questions bubbled me over the brim. </div>
<div class="sCaption" data-reactid=".8.0.1.0.1.0.0.1.0.0.0:0.1.2:1" style="text-align: left;">
<br /></div>
<div class="sCaption" data-reactid=".8.0.1.0.1.0.0.1.0.0.0:0.1.2:1" style="text-align: left;">
Headed back outside hoping the floor mats would be clean and dried by the time of the showing. And lit a candle. Hoping to mask the smell.</div>
<div class="sCaption" data-reactid=".8.0.1.0.1.0.0.1.0.0.0:0.1.2:1" style="text-align: left;">
<br /></div>
<div class="sCaption" data-reactid=".8.0.1.0.1.0.0.1.0.0.0:0.1.2:1" style="text-align: left;">
I did some of my workout to try to diffuse. While the kids played. The laundry finished and I got it all back in place. Done. And thankful for the time to clean it all up.</div>
<div class="sCaption" data-reactid=".8.0.1.0.1.0.0.1.0.0.0:0.1.2:1" style="text-align: left;">
<br /></div>
<div class="sCaption" data-reactid=".8.0.1.0.1.0.0.1.0.0.0:0.1.2:1" style="text-align: left;">
Not long after, Leah comes in the garage to tell me her brother stinks again. No...No....No...No....</div>
<div class="sCaption" data-reactid=".8.0.1.0.1.0.0.1.0.0.0:0.1.2:1" style="text-align: left;">
<br /></div>
<div class="sCaption" data-reactid=".8.0.1.0.1.0.0.1.0.0.0:0.1.2:1" style="text-align: left;">
Seriously, no. </div>
<div class="sCaption" data-reactid=".8.0.1.0.1.0.0.1.0.0.0:0.1.2:1" style="text-align: left;">
<br /></div>
<div class="sCaption" data-reactid=".8.0.1.0.1.0.0.1.0.0.0:0.1.2:1" style="text-align: left;">
I walk up to him and he breaks into tears grabbing his behind, knowing he made another mistake. Why? WHY? We haven't had this many accidents in 3 days than we have in the past 3 months. WHAT IS GOING ON? I checked his pants to confirm my suspicions. Sure enough. Everywhere. All over. Deeming another bath. </div>
<div class="sCaption" data-reactid=".8.0.1.0.1.0.0.1.0.0.0:0.1.2:1" style="text-align: left;">
I took him downstairs to get him a quick shower. As I'm undressing him...on the freshly cleaned floor mats...he begins to go AGAIN. All over. AGAIN. Now with only 30 minutes to show time.</div>
<div class="sCaption" data-reactid=".8.0.1.0.1.0.0.1.0.0.0:0.1.2:1" style="text-align: left;">
<br /></div>
<div class="sCaption" data-reactid=".8.0.1.0.1.0.0.1.0.0.0:0.1.2:1" style="text-align: left;">
I tear up. Again. I drop to the floor. And just sit. Sit and cry. Again.</div>
<div class="sCaption" data-reactid=".8.0.1.0.1.0.0.1.0.0.0:0.1.2:1" style="text-align: left;">
I am done. I can't take anymore. Worn down. Finished. Exhausted.</div>
<div class="sCaption" data-reactid=".8.0.1.0.1.0.0.1.0.0.0:0.1.2:1" style="text-align: left;">
I have lost all my patience. I am literally sitting in poop. Crying. How much worse can it get? Right.</div>
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<br /></div>
<div class="sCaption" data-reactid=".8.0.1.0.1.0.0.1.0.0.0:0.1.2:1" style="text-align: left;">
I eventually get it together. Clean Blake in the shower again. Tidy up the bathroom as best as I can. And we leave. I say a quick prayer for supernatural favor over the house. For God's renewed strength because I am weak. Worn. Weary.</div>
<div class="sCaption" data-reactid=".8.0.1.0.1.0.0.1.0.0.0:0.1.2:1" style="text-align: left;">
<br /></div>
<div class="sCaption" data-reactid=".8.0.1.0.1.0.0.1.0.0.0:0.1.2:1" style="text-align: left;">
I am happy to say the rest of the day improved. I am here today, to tell the story. But wow. What a day.</div>
<div class="sCaption" data-reactid=".8.0.1.0.1.0.0.1.0.0.0:0.1.2:1" style="text-align: left;">
<br /></div>
<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=AD6v5dzjWnqlXAY3ZJsawETqa6VE_EH23gcgQw2w_-uaaWwBZc5n2VxWmkfcra7lvfnaLOI9wDhzMDj-z5sVt76VYw' class='b-hbp-video b-uploaded' frameborder='0'></iframe></div>
<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=AD6v5dxOZiNfXBR52V1VV8rUtaqKphRNV02HYKYpggtlhbWq5nW32IyULS5T7o_eBtlpuKOYxOivo10zFjnSkFE0Yg' class='b-hbp-video b-uploaded' frameborder='0'></iframe></div>
<div class="sCaption" data-reactid=".8.0.1.0.1.0.0.1.0.0.0:0.1.2:1" style="text-align: left;">
I will say this. We had a wonderful Saturday. Shown by the pictures posted.</div>
<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="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh6qHW3GBpClvYlNIfyHSG44jsSo8siGVMGbqW2JiyIwZAo26UTIVZHcd6jBVHu12I67jgoej5yxFOLIBHNNzYRSqvBWBQUgjhY84u3CJ9UcMCAr5ZFWRnKf4p3CcUzTi6lIvsO1YlKl3U7/s1600/IMG_9688%5B1%5D.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh6qHW3GBpClvYlNIfyHSG44jsSo8siGVMGbqW2JiyIwZAo26UTIVZHcd6jBVHu12I67jgoej5yxFOLIBHNNzYRSqvBWBQUgjhY84u3CJ9UcMCAr5ZFWRnKf4p3CcUzTi6lIvsO1YlKl3U7/s1600/IMG_9688%5B1%5D.JPG" height="266" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">If you only knew the task it was to get this picture. With a timer. The first few pics were a blur of me trying to run to the bench from the camera. The others were when a gust of wind blew and the girl's and I's hair covered our faces. One was Blake trying to crawl down to the ground. I think I did about 10-15 sprints in sandals for this one shot. 1 shot. Worth it though. (only missing daddy)</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEirEnL7NsdhAWaVSdz6V78xScTAttlQJGbkFFyZjOsxRhI9FcTLBxNPqWoH3hhK5eRjYWuJZuJ3pmcvg0HjWBTCgOaEB0YWU2KQ2yu2LojVfsRlvJxMmPaKU6iluRgpCPXx6TAMqJtVbNTG/s1600/IMG_9684%5B1%5D.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEirEnL7NsdhAWaVSdz6V78xScTAttlQJGbkFFyZjOsxRhI9FcTLBxNPqWoH3hhK5eRjYWuJZuJ3pmcvg0HjWBTCgOaEB0YWU2KQ2yu2LojVfsRlvJxMmPaKU6iluRgpCPXx6TAMqJtVbNTG/s1600/IMG_9684%5B1%5D.JPG" height="266" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">And Autum is distracted.</td><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><br /></td><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><br /></td><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><br /></td></tr>
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Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07232816361756308076noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4537995979713666504.post-14978196881152662202015-04-02T18:17:00.000-05:002015-04-02T18:17:13.526-05:00Little Miss Says<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
So because Autum is my only child still at home most of the time, she and I have lots of time to talk.<br />
She has been cracking me up lately with her little speeches, her finger pointing points of concern, and her old soul wisdom. She is quite the little "mama" and her sweet soul keeps Blake nurtured, her big sister on her toes, and everyone caught up on hugs and kisses.<br />
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Yesterday I was working out in the garage and she was swinging around behind me on the rings just jabbering away. I finished a weight lifting circuit including push press, ball slams, and kettlebell swings for time. I am not thinking she is paying attention to me at all, until I am finished and I'm wiping the sweat off my face. She comes over and points her little finger at me and says, "you didn't lift heavy enough weights!!"<br />
I ask why. And she says, "because you didn't make that face like you do when you are pooping...you know that one where you scrunch up your cheeks and make noises...?"<br />
Ok, you mean "a pain face?"<br />
"Nope...your poop face!"<br />
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Ok then.<br />
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Moving onto later in the day, we jog to school in the stroller. We are running behind and it's a little windy...it's Kansas, you know. Right after we leave she says she needs a Kleenex, her nose is running. Well, we are already halfway to the school. So I say to use her sleeve (yes this is my 3rd child)...well, Little Miss Queenie doesn't like that idea and resolves to use toilet paper at the school. We pull up in front of the school and she says, "Geez, mom! Now I will have to ask for a wet wipe...you ran so fast the boogers are dried up on my face--no Kleenex is going to get that off!"<br />
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Ok...<br />
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And today...I pick her up from preschool-a little late by her standards. I decided to get a quick swim and track workout in before I pick her up and after my morning workout session with my clients. So I literally run off the track all sweaty, run to my van, drive to pick her up...still out of breath. I walk in and she marches over, gives me this look. I assume it's because I am late. I say I'm sorry, and she says, "No...it's not that, I'll tell you when we get outside." <br />
We walk out the doors and she says, "I am trying to be polite. But you STINK! You stunk up my preschool classroom! Next time would you mind taking a shower before you come get me? Bleh."<br />
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Haha...good to know. Sorry, sister. Shower it is.<br />
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Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07232816361756308076noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4537995979713666504.post-46187244720048048792015-03-31T13:41:00.003-05:002015-03-31T13:41:53.342-05:00Weekends of Spring<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
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My kids are made for sunshine, outdoors, dirt, space, and time. This past weekend was a "warm fuzzies" weekend for me. We played outside from sun up to sun down both days. No joke! We ate outside every meal. Blake did all his potty breaks outside. :) </div>
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We face-timed with Baby Luke, that is the only thing that brought the girls inside on these warm spring days. That little boy has probably face-timed more in his 2 months of life than most in their lifetime...thanks to these 2! We roasted hot dogs on sticks, we caught worms, we rode our bikes, we dug dirt holes all over the yard, did tricks on the trampoline, fried fish and pickles, played softball, and frisbee (which Autum calls "Crispee!), we played with friends and family, shot baskets, worked on the boat, worked out in the garage. I kept looking around at my little blessings playing and getting along, and feeling very thankful. Content. And at peace.</div>
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These are the days I don't want to end.</div>
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(until bedtime routine starts, and the whining exhaustedness kicks in..then it can go faster)</div>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjnpGEi74oz69X77HM0yeDCBJUc45RVtvPWCCDGvoxhMyJylR0Ex9BrFgBfh2H6Ko0TBVDTUA9F1l3A1e4GHWgifyqaA_agt9cV5BO37OUFCFpso5EursHj66JeXfmt5DwqhbF2lQ7W0J4W/s1600/IMG_5214%5B1%5D.JPG" height="400" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;" width="300" /></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">"Baby Luke!"</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgXryxKMzrc3V9jRcRsWmbLnXlpJHC67qPR6kZB7vGtf_4xhvFR3We-NPOcGvpJxl6kfvFkBbyfXcHf4nJq4L3D2lWTegf-jzyfYz5zUP742324vk_m84puZN4XIy-Pe0O4JaCmHLLuFi6J/s1600/IMG_5231.MOV" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgXryxKMzrc3V9jRcRsWmbLnXlpJHC67qPR6kZB7vGtf_4xhvFR3We-NPOcGvpJxl6kfvFkBbyfXcHf4nJq4L3D2lWTegf-jzyfYz5zUP742324vk_m84puZN4XIy-Pe0O4JaCmHLLuFi6J/s1600/IMG_5231.MOV" height="400" width="225" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Scooter races. Blake was at a disadvantage.</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiTRzW3i9_QT1r09yQPvw2SQPq9RWeXLCqxsYF1O2Ir1Zm-ufpvmNsvo9bOjXoOlp0e9Pa2m1hEr1EwfdEc_MHCvbi7fYU-JOmJprfnGAXd4palvjb6GURODYAfMLEQsGGoJaTrrMAv7ia7/s1600/IMG_5237.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiTRzW3i9_QT1r09yQPvw2SQPq9RWeXLCqxsYF1O2Ir1Zm-ufpvmNsvo9bOjXoOlp0e9Pa2m1hEr1EwfdEc_MHCvbi7fYU-JOmJprfnGAXd4palvjb6GURODYAfMLEQsGGoJaTrrMAv7ia7/s1600/IMG_5237.JPG" height="400" width="300" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">"We are best friends with best friend necklaces so we are going to walk around like this holding them together, all day!"</td></tr>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">"Team Huddle"</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhSXlrTrrE9Z_X7HxYsDW99iqNkU_D1yJiIPKBl_ooRPyOh1BIZn5MaKJJ2C-Yi-x64_E3Oy2D1G9omYeUZR5b9WpY1-50uoOlbiiBJwZvvbwAhgmWR4_EbeI0Ix6Uof-qfjHmadde-rD8C/s1600/IMG_5242.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhSXlrTrrE9Z_X7HxYsDW99iqNkU_D1yJiIPKBl_ooRPyOh1BIZn5MaKJJ2C-Yi-x64_E3Oy2D1G9omYeUZR5b9WpY1-50uoOlbiiBJwZvvbwAhgmWR4_EbeI0Ix6Uof-qfjHmadde-rD8C/s1600/IMG_5242.JPG" height="300" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Waiting on daddy to load up the hotdog sticks for roasting.</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgfhWrhNxur1u_9aitUbUkNub1NR68eG2MJ4GlFYTTW4eaXNs4KvWcarBorj1IXDW9rFLF_HHXKRv0HwxMJO_u9-0uNpdR0fLkphlnJSgEPcha5Ca0X5A8V3HpEGzaoxXAgeYk3Pjxeb_KS/s1600/IMG_5248.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgfhWrhNxur1u_9aitUbUkNub1NR68eG2MJ4GlFYTTW4eaXNs4KvWcarBorj1IXDW9rFLF_HHXKRv0HwxMJO_u9-0uNpdR0fLkphlnJSgEPcha5Ca0X5A8V3HpEGzaoxXAgeYk3Pjxeb_KS/s1600/IMG_5248.JPG" height="400" width="300" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Piggyback rides.</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEihCLTFqEjTsP471oZrHknFkZiFISCzT-cnHksqAm44LwwxQ8LC4bJW9UkHLkq3dOehOKel2NibvSrnyDXM2CshPJ0wc2o4efEJEz27PBH55YmKjhU_Z6pCsIGNK86QyhtNZHYmeSdpDFAT/s1600/IMG_5258.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEihCLTFqEjTsP471oZrHknFkZiFISCzT-cnHksqAm44LwwxQ8LC4bJW9UkHLkq3dOehOKel2NibvSrnyDXM2CshPJ0wc2o4efEJEz27PBH55YmKjhU_Z6pCsIGNK86QyhtNZHYmeSdpDFAT/s1600/IMG_5258.JPG" height="400" width="300" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Fingernail service outdoors!</td></tr>
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Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07232816361756308076noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4537995979713666504.post-42422930508578472772015-03-26T16:27:00.001-05:002015-03-26T16:27:06.189-05:00Spring Break Part II<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhWXja74w6JOItt9l_QOsEdSXTDxW0F7z-Tbyz3Vzvg7iiaj_LOHzDNuFd43Vr4hHIaEkPNgF8-RwnmXxOJW3su3wAF86S9h0giyNsLDUw27bnyfbKml05_Fq4-fU67BVFyP94AnxDBoSes/s1600/IMG_5146.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhWXja74w6JOItt9l_QOsEdSXTDxW0F7z-Tbyz3Vzvg7iiaj_LOHzDNuFd43Vr4hHIaEkPNgF8-RwnmXxOJW3su3wAF86S9h0giyNsLDUw27bnyfbKml05_Fq4-fU67BVFyP94AnxDBoSes/s1600/IMG_5146.JPG" height="300" width="400" /></a></div>
If this picture is any indication of the success of our Spring Break week...you will realize it was spent outside mostly. Ha! I even had to eat off of a toddler fork by Monday morning. <br /><br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgK_pl2DRqnKkPglpym8upCYnVz7yRUwGEg2P942X0GBM7UegDVGDl_vVLJe5wOmA_rk1wLlhZhjTHcev_MAL5gOsbHyeaVxhBJtl_Pcdf-ppSQ4ah0POnpPX9_wnf9CE3HHGhfxjfF0OKG/s1600/IMG_5141.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgK_pl2DRqnKkPglpym8upCYnVz7yRUwGEg2P942X0GBM7UegDVGDl_vVLJe5wOmA_rk1wLlhZhjTHcev_MAL5gOsbHyeaVxhBJtl_Pcdf-ppSQ4ah0POnpPX9_wnf9CE3HHGhfxjfF0OKG/s1600/IMG_5141.JPG" height="400" width="300" /></a></div>
We spent a lot of time at the various parks McPherson has to offer. Even testing out some new ones. Daddy even had a few minutes during his crazy work schedule right now...(AKA Plant Shutdown) to play!<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhbTHsYF2jhk6hj_1HZWukPT-xZtAgz2tnc89CcN81TjO_KcPmSKlqGmE-xEdYYnhRMlaPzxow6bFly0PmeCJxep5zx3ERVbrv41mvg515XG9NINCS6kDNf9m1_0AY6QTCiwjbfFqb-TL5x/s1600/IMG_5140.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhbTHsYF2jhk6hj_1HZWukPT-xZtAgz2tnc89CcN81TjO_KcPmSKlqGmE-xEdYYnhRMlaPzxow6bFly0PmeCJxep5zx3ERVbrv41mvg515XG9NINCS6kDNf9m1_0AY6QTCiwjbfFqb-TL5x/s1600/IMG_5140.JPG" height="400" width="300" /></a></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgIFZ74sB8WYI25OTu9Sj-L5I8IbMo9rSVU-sZWGUCIxNbpYnI2Olls04Otvq_x7jfj3SJY9yQXkbAwFA0VIQXJqh1MOC9rXgkVLMnGZL2Ml1t1Ll5e0OXwSlBVbo4Yy5_CoF98butdqQ6E/s1600/IMG_5137.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgIFZ74sB8WYI25OTu9Sj-L5I8IbMo9rSVU-sZWGUCIxNbpYnI2Olls04Otvq_x7jfj3SJY9yQXkbAwFA0VIQXJqh1MOC9rXgkVLMnGZL2Ml1t1Ll5e0OXwSlBVbo4Yy5_CoF98butdqQ6E/s1600/IMG_5137.JPG" height="320" width="320" /></a></div>
We took short naps when and where we could! ha! <br />
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Helped prepare lunch at Mimi and Papa's!<br />
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I found a few quick minutes to write up some articles for <a href="http://www.watchfit.com/">www.watchfit.com</a><br />
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And Blake and I made a quick run to Children's Mercy Hospital in Kansas City for his yearly check-up at the Down Syndrome Clinic. We left at 4:30 AM, got there at 8:00 AM only to find out they moved the clinic...to a new facility, with no signs, in a building that was formerly a business office-and shows no signs of medical anything...BUT we finally made it..an hour late. I fully convinced them we WERE going to be seen...haha! We turned around and drove back home after noon. Clear bill of health. Ears look good. Gonna make some changes to his IEP and Behavior Plan. We have a sleep study scheduled for the summer. Otherwise, great!<br />
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Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07232816361756308076noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4537995979713666504.post-36673018549987987022015-03-19T13:44:00.002-05:002015-03-19T13:44:47.957-05:00Spring Break+Some<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
This past week and half has been Spring Break for us!<br />
We've been on the go since last Wednesday when they first got out of school.<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhCaisxxG6P2F0ra2-4C9ql0mC6HgQHRwXUsoH2UaKq_2QQH2F3e8iomQKi4rKqGudQAoSGIrgHDv8KO89yhuNvR2gCgkZ6swSo7h21adr2nNvF-a0oJIhob_x4ioJaKRGf-S76mzBQSthn/s1600/IMG_4865.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhCaisxxG6P2F0ra2-4C9ql0mC6HgQHRwXUsoH2UaKq_2QQH2F3e8iomQKi4rKqGudQAoSGIrgHDv8KO89yhuNvR2gCgkZ6swSo7h21adr2nNvF-a0oJIhob_x4ioJaKRGf-S76mzBQSthn/s1600/IMG_4865.JPG" height="400" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Girls spend a few moments with Daddy, and I come back to find them practicing their fishing skills in the backyard.</td></tr>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Spent an afternoon and Mimi and Papa's, shooting bows, riding 4-wheelers, and hiding Easter eggs.</td></tr>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Spent the day at Rolling Hills Zoo with friends</td></tr>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Can't go anywhere without snacks...with my crew</td></tr>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Right before I took this picture, a gorilla ran up and smacked his face against this glass and all the kids screamed and jumped back landing on strollers and us mom's! (Note-Leah standing back a distance now)</td></tr>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">"What are THEY doing mom??" They are hugging, kids, hugging.</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgMmgIKTG8BnKoWejiavbAc8mbDRyb-tMWjKsyqFZUgBleCBTkJUW2_YN73qDz_SMk6PQKyAeWH-a78kKKEQ1eEM2y6Zog0bwCPmsZKyw6R78muCagC4iHDpqggnCL0MtymhNQx1mPCS_Rt/s1600/IMG_5003.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgMmgIKTG8BnKoWejiavbAc8mbDRyb-tMWjKsyqFZUgBleCBTkJUW2_YN73qDz_SMk6PQKyAeWH-a78kKKEQ1eEM2y6Zog0bwCPmsZKyw6R78muCagC4iHDpqggnCL0MtymhNQx1mPCS_Rt/s1600/IMG_5003.JPG" height="400" width="300" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Jerad and I hit up the Cottonwood River for some bass fishing. If this picture is any indication of our luck...then you know it was a slow day.</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEirzs-xMdTN5-meIAtB6FruRR9krt31pscAI3zB9SSxzHCpKNdG8dsOaYxPc7UBhe8iNZwUIpXg50YbpUDbb14wqawnI8muoM-h7Q7EOnXyLzIwpX9XjPzQUxi6zL2L8AUfBxf6W4aUo_rW/s1600/IMG_5009.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEirzs-xMdTN5-meIAtB6FruRR9krt31pscAI3zB9SSxzHCpKNdG8dsOaYxPc7UBhe8iNZwUIpXg50YbpUDbb14wqawnI8muoM-h7Q7EOnXyLzIwpX9XjPzQUxi6zL2L8AUfBxf6W4aUo_rW/s1600/IMG_5009.JPG" height="400" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Right before this, I cast a line and threw Jerad's new reel into the river. And right before that, I broke his other new reel, somehow. So by this point I was left with my push button rod and reel and chasing geese. </td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjPYvw-mZUjmvt3dP76IBAle9xQxfckU-CFYKMRcYog0GtBepwS-YwxkAZOwV5EfkiiyfJ2xFrg1wbS7akcXb4sJDHe3pOoWKkjVZLqJofukcA2IxYK6ePPsg2fyIEDqYblLDEvk3oREVh3/s1600/IMG_5012.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjPYvw-mZUjmvt3dP76IBAle9xQxfckU-CFYKMRcYog0GtBepwS-YwxkAZOwV5EfkiiyfJ2xFrg1wbS7akcXb4sJDHe3pOoWKkjVZLqJofukcA2IxYK6ePPsg2fyIEDqYblLDEvk3oREVh3/s1600/IMG_5012.JPG" height="300" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">We went on a date that night, only to get in the truck and discover we are getting old, wearing matching shirts. Mossy Oak night it is!</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi4TJ9JRFSwuzckRo9IXazLP5EBtzbhEcVH40HbiENq8XuqpIJkS0nS8_ikhmWOO_uonsXSWB7grdRtrUq2f1EuuR6dpWWelDgeARQP-b2odHQt28pRPyf3ZVfZtQCT5dTQQ96zj2O_B3Mx/s1600/IMG_5014.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi4TJ9JRFSwuzckRo9IXazLP5EBtzbhEcVH40HbiENq8XuqpIJkS0nS8_ikhmWOO_uonsXSWB7grdRtrUq2f1EuuR6dpWWelDgeARQP-b2odHQt28pRPyf3ZVfZtQCT5dTQQ96zj2O_B3Mx/s1600/IMG_5014.JPG" height="400" width="300" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">And my phone keeps getting inundated with pictures of this squishy, lovey, little man. My nephew. </td></tr>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">The kids spent a weekend with Grandparents and the Tanganiyka Zoo...the things these girls can get their Papa to do...</td></tr>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Feeding bunnies..</td></tr>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">And kangaroos...</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjsI8_zO9wN_v_5JdrANnGqK8c2PT4_2gSfkJ2OuNwXOYrmdDl5P1AvkKFzMD5__IcD9bZFi0RlnbuxEbUQv5Eg0zocJdEXYMZNSbZaTksODDhe2OLl0dnGS6SSVaJS8-5nlFc_hYndCOkw/s1600/IMG_5018.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjsI8_zO9wN_v_5JdrANnGqK8c2PT4_2gSfkJ2OuNwXOYrmdDl5P1AvkKFzMD5__IcD9bZFi0RlnbuxEbUQv5Eg0zocJdEXYMZNSbZaTksODDhe2OLl0dnGS6SSVaJS8-5nlFc_hYndCOkw/s1600/IMG_5018.JPG" height="298" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Riding in toy barrels.</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiICBPFl1A5pl7EKoD-ENNbw-P9QrkuOfDZRoJYWMhD30ckjADuve6JA29iztByapXk_-9gRvtPd_fcH0_WPgIwmsxwbcmL1XKjKeIrEvq0R_6asY6N88PhJOSxWyeaOrk1uPAvLN6Y8SE-/s1600/IMG_5047.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiICBPFl1A5pl7EKoD-ENNbw-P9QrkuOfDZRoJYWMhD30ckjADuve6JA29iztByapXk_-9gRvtPd_fcH0_WPgIwmsxwbcmL1XKjKeIrEvq0R_6asY6N88PhJOSxWyeaOrk1uPAvLN6Y8SE-/s1600/IMG_5047.JPG" height="400" width="300" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">St. Patrick's Day!!</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh__lyC0IaU_VLKTeLmZP70-b8iBC2gMu7un_HDkcp957ppb-QTkvKH4OEJ7kA_eDUP-R0f0es-Dx6xseJlo7ujAwmlXuEX9gcQwv1Fvht-a1PWIDRFca8LZBNEOPKqW4NgnR0-LOPuwE4D/s1600/IMG_5066.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh__lyC0IaU_VLKTeLmZP70-b8iBC2gMu7un_HDkcp957ppb-QTkvKH4OEJ7kA_eDUP-R0f0es-Dx6xseJlo7ujAwmlXuEX9gcQwv1Fvht-a1PWIDRFca8LZBNEOPKqW4NgnR0-LOPuwE4D/s1600/IMG_5066.JPG" height="400" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">This little girly and I spent a morning together. Wish I could bottle up this cuteness and age and save it forever.</td></tr>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Aunt Kate and Uncle Jeremy visited with Baby Luke.</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhg9c5Z_P_4T-ul9DkYx9lAR0Bj0z0rIhyWiC3YfTIGUt7yKlXXGsRsjWI1ekOJgJgolFjRgeTj9IA2L-rDWnBk1EfF4DjAFgpWszEv0hDNiiCWvFLZ9se7A0usImSylYheJnoHfH9yRI6E/s1600/IMG_5072.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhg9c5Z_P_4T-ul9DkYx9lAR0Bj0z0rIhyWiC3YfTIGUt7yKlXXGsRsjWI1ekOJgJgolFjRgeTj9IA2L-rDWnBk1EfF4DjAFgpWszEv0hDNiiCWvFLZ9se7A0usImSylYheJnoHfH9yRI6E/s1600/IMG_5072.JPG" height="400" width="300" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">This girl was in Heaven!</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEixfIFU-AN7p7ltZx8BV2n5z1kjDUKPZwasbOzWFeqhf-ojKL5OHJWDkz8ve4kearDv_KAhY_4eq5YoeQcqgnR9cEOrB15_yp58oe-3Y0lAGNF0BG1pV3jFBNov3cs_snZY6JDIh-Lsxi_S/s1600/IMG_5074.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEixfIFU-AN7p7ltZx8BV2n5z1kjDUKPZwasbOzWFeqhf-ojKL5OHJWDkz8ve4kearDv_KAhY_4eq5YoeQcqgnR9cEOrB15_yp58oe-3Y0lAGNF0BG1pV3jFBNov3cs_snZY6JDIh-Lsxi_S/s1600/IMG_5074.JPG" height="400" width="300" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Autum was a little jealous..and needed Daddy reassurance.</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi-tTaBRC1fEkZ1VJs1f-dzpaIEZ5YtDVhShQNfBcT_q9GhIhE-MYkld8e4RTyCTMXa1d6WRqpEHJtg1-erzc6geXCaqniORFR-DBqPlFtc-hRVMyCk8CDVL5YiuDOhbPioTRaSOlcseXxR/s1600/IMG_5075.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi-tTaBRC1fEkZ1VJs1f-dzpaIEZ5YtDVhShQNfBcT_q9GhIhE-MYkld8e4RTyCTMXa1d6WRqpEHJtg1-erzc6geXCaqniORFR-DBqPlFtc-hRVMyCk8CDVL5YiuDOhbPioTRaSOlcseXxR/s1600/IMG_5075.JPG" height="300" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">So did Blake...</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjpX0YI_2lvF10HqHcNjwwm3qBp9OszgNTT6uAIEPFYiEAO1uzZkh-rV5vN6XoJJN5nAUqxQUnpFfD3Jn_vw5m-xjzuoOP3xD3O7r1NFS6h24ewOBIRbuDwp0CZPW8uIX2nIW9PCW3PFpXf/s1600/IMG_5086.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjpX0YI_2lvF10HqHcNjwwm3qBp9OszgNTT6uAIEPFYiEAO1uzZkh-rV5vN6XoJJN5nAUqxQUnpFfD3Jn_vw5m-xjzuoOP3xD3O7r1NFS6h24ewOBIRbuDwp0CZPW8uIX2nIW9PCW3PFpXf/s1600/IMG_5086.JPG" height="400" width="300" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Everyone pass around the baby.</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiLyANfQx3N1NVc9WEseScG5bmqJKWCKuP2CrDv54xSSzY7trpvur2rVmihckJo0UtCENwwLqGrgeI6xDYFdHCxHqq7kZXGgY3JrTGs65UHS3ShQQkgoQCU8loVS34msAL4duIrW6he_NmP/s1600/IMG_5088.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiLyANfQx3N1NVc9WEseScG5bmqJKWCKuP2CrDv54xSSzY7trpvur2rVmihckJo0UtCENwwLqGrgeI6xDYFdHCxHqq7kZXGgY3JrTGs65UHS3ShQQkgoQCU8loVS34msAL4duIrW6he_NmP/s1600/IMG_5088.JPG" height="400" width="300" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">"Yay, Mom!"</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhWfOJmFFuKafmr4kAtWY7GaVyzFN32cFQ7QfhNb4emq1JVfhweDyuExo4-TVrzRnVXwf61VsxQ7Lu8GfdGq4VKapTS_fAVxXhM61qAiCQtICCQdv56ZKqtetVzKQIdLoLyU6LuGQDDPp3f/s1600/IMG_5101.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhWfOJmFFuKafmr4kAtWY7GaVyzFN32cFQ7QfhNb4emq1JVfhweDyuExo4-TVrzRnVXwf61VsxQ7Lu8GfdGq4VKapTS_fAVxXhM61qAiCQtICCQdv56ZKqtetVzKQIdLoLyU6LuGQDDPp3f/s1600/IMG_5101.JPG" height="400" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Love. :)</td></tr>
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Stay tuned for the 2nd half of the week activities posted soon.<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=AD6v5dwyeHn116JeT3bzye4nJzBzLH6y37ZcKDslmANVtu7cuk-coshSv1QEsnmPF7psVDg5jWjpt1ZxfVPMw2kSYA' class='b-hbp-video b-uploaded' frameborder='0'></iframe></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhE6abAmbQ_1viUkg0MpW87FiXmrbOOLxtlWlOYBngIhICAbvIS4QkgkZW-aAiiqFKvDLAaeBC2_IUAoOQvndD7qKxj583KwCDp8X_Vo5MlDhrF9I9CL8V_QfCbRlPAGHdx6x3oy9xYKQuE/s1600/IMG_4915.MOV" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhE6abAmbQ_1viUkg0MpW87FiXmrbOOLxtlWlOYBngIhICAbvIS4QkgkZW-aAiiqFKvDLAaeBC2_IUAoOQvndD7qKxj583KwCDp8X_Vo5MlDhrF9I9CL8V_QfCbRlPAGHdx6x3oy9xYKQuE/s1600/IMG_4915.MOV" height="300" width="400" /> </a></div>
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<br /><iframe allowfullscreen='allowfullscreen' webkitallowfullscreen='webkitallowfullscreen' mozallowfullscreen='mozallowfullscreen' width='320' height='266' src='https://www.blogger.com/video.g?token=AD6v5dwyVvuLR9JpzifUdF5e-ATwt9Sep5rodmNgrJFq7Sg4P2iITUwWcCLajNAjjoeEi8WSgVsMXZoEno0NrVmZSA' class='b-hbp-video b-uploaded' frameborder='0'></iframe>Autum schooled Blake in a soccer game wearing a square dancing skirt. And we shot bows at Papa's.</div>
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Leah attended softball camp a few days this week.</div>
Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07232816361756308076noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4537995979713666504.post-25421817615708097952015-03-07T09:54:00.003-06:002015-03-07T09:54:17.210-06:00Photo Dump<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: left; margin-right: 1em; text-align: left;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhgq0tiylqD69PytluigsXV7nGXIMzIeBAmm6naSlVaLAWR80zqwfx_iYgHfnKD4QGo3RawXEDhZdL7jzQBUpU16S8XKQPy8X8ONRElX8UL4V7W-KGbnKD7apiSBcsc9auquWHRTfWBPw2O/s1600/IMG_4702.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhgq0tiylqD69PytluigsXV7nGXIMzIeBAmm6naSlVaLAWR80zqwfx_iYgHfnKD4QGo3RawXEDhZdL7jzQBUpU16S8XKQPy8X8ONRElX8UL4V7W-KGbnKD7apiSBcsc9auquWHRTfWBPw2O/s1600/IMG_4702.JPG" height="400" width="300" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Teaching Leah the fine art of making Ro-Tel snacks!</td></tr>
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<span style="color: #351c75;"><span style="font-size: large;">The last few week's at our house. </span></span><br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjv8yEEWxC9tPu5U6vVpfmP17E-LiAo9es1Wwc9wvnAbLIJQoEYVqGFzgAOnIYi8jYUufFCjQ4AwpsKWTI18TTM-3nsEo8hKL4oMnKZzOO2YF2tUwWorcjRLF-dREuKcbZQSLbfvow4uxHw/s1600/IMG_4730.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjv8yEEWxC9tPu5U6vVpfmP17E-LiAo9es1Wwc9wvnAbLIJQoEYVqGFzgAOnIYi8jYUufFCjQ4AwpsKWTI18TTM-3nsEo8hKL4oMnKZzOO2YF2tUwWorcjRLF-dREuKcbZQSLbfvow4uxHw/s1600/IMG_4730.JPG" height="400" width="300" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">We had our own Red Carpet Oscar Party with curling irons, dresses, fancy finger food, and microphones.</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiHkIAIMAlgqTCi6nst4kn5grvljhqZw7DOejGX3oN16dP397q9kgL2fvs-fW1o9h4I9U3HRW_JEogGBzqCYfQ_6I_m41JEgaY1XgMvD8q6_lbUWgtDjkb2TzPpii7VIDzeIiWskACPON0i/s1600/IMG_4733.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiHkIAIMAlgqTCi6nst4kn5grvljhqZw7DOejGX3oN16dP397q9kgL2fvs-fW1o9h4I9U3HRW_JEogGBzqCYfQ_6I_m41JEgaY1XgMvD8q6_lbUWgtDjkb2TzPpii7VIDzeIiWskACPON0i/s1600/IMG_4733.JPG" height="400" width="300" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Our next Red Carpet actress.</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiMO_j79Fo-eEEfQORsIikyc0v-KuuPp76XV9NCLic_xGc9nUMx8wOfM3Wg_XLiKM0sMzJhNTPuWlqNdX0qLp32aRJan2eG9Nfe-FTXkZZzD5IJUkh87n99AFoK1F4UiQ8f5BBiryjil1Q_/s1600/IMG_4734.JPG" height="400" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;" width="300" /></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">And Blake had to get in on the fun...</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgXpfCYcjRqjlFSMGU3gzhG-CGZ0DAAr8urUDX9JviPqjV9HJ-rmiCp_auLE6LnhROJ_MXPsF_mTWcMBLOf2ezS2KInd69f1xlmU-M1KV-C5FKep7A6d1DUn9Ey09ArJuXweJRAlN7sO2jP/s1600/IMG_4775.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgXpfCYcjRqjlFSMGU3gzhG-CGZ0DAAr8urUDX9JviPqjV9HJ-rmiCp_auLE6LnhROJ_MXPsF_mTWcMBLOf2ezS2KInd69f1xlmU-M1KV-C5FKep7A6d1DUn9Ey09ArJuXweJRAlN7sO2jP/s1600/IMG_4775.JPG" height="320" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Autum and I went to the McPherson girls basketball game against Buhler, to watch the cheerleaders, of course.</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjgFLViISYgYuoujSZyU4J9J3rsB48OLqm7fx1Y8PhyphenhyphenRCjS7L74JZipc-mHe0h5BVDr6vdUYC4Z3lCTp8GmHtTBgXs-TjMcl3G7NeM3x2idwYjYUztyGFZrrnlUgCa6MTLXkwCxrpDS53Cg/s1600/IMG_4793.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjgFLViISYgYuoujSZyU4J9J3rsB48OLqm7fx1Y8PhyphenhyphenRCjS7L74JZipc-mHe0h5BVDr6vdUYC4Z3lCTp8GmHtTBgXs-TjMcl3G7NeM3x2idwYjYUztyGFZrrnlUgCa6MTLXkwCxrpDS53Cg/s1600/IMG_4793.JPG" height="400" width="300" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">The girls went sledding behind daddy's truck.</td></tr>
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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="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi-TDCqmst_TNV5ky4LzqmQKfVFDV3Pd47SnDkwp0JZTam1GglLYPdg1TAQ6o8rWTCnHvvJUqJSnptZM8g6hPczIFn3gAAhy3fK66_08wDmBx1BG6zD50aGDsrJO1vutjEybkNBX677cevb/s1600/IMG_4799.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi-TDCqmst_TNV5ky4LzqmQKfVFDV3Pd47SnDkwp0JZTam1GglLYPdg1TAQ6o8rWTCnHvvJUqJSnptZM8g6hPczIFn3gAAhy3fK66_08wDmBx1BG6zD50aGDsrJO1vutjEybkNBX677cevb/s1600/IMG_4799.JPG" height="320" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Blake was confused which season it was, when he came out to join us in his swimming suit instead of his snow suit.</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
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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="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEik96JpjLOahYHx5UZYnNntm0TKL3NiRRwtHrSqIY3GhwzaVbK6kC_ISt7nxBZrbvs6tlCqYxJWbKadpK1tyBa7DtpH9B4H3kBULUUsmRYvbMDT5vScpj6ux2IhTLSHlo8OhJf0LGOYbdWq/s1600/IMG_4814.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEik96JpjLOahYHx5UZYnNntm0TKL3NiRRwtHrSqIY3GhwzaVbK6kC_ISt7nxBZrbvs6tlCqYxJWbKadpK1tyBa7DtpH9B4H3kBULUUsmRYvbMDT5vScpj6ux2IhTLSHlo8OhJf0LGOYbdWq/s1600/IMG_4814.JPG" height="400" width="300" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">We celebrated my parent's 40th wedding anniversary last weekend at my sister's house with Baby Luke.</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiuEVxvWh8H5flMAFax4hwa2kVsD9qmeoOTJ13jRv5dVnqZ0V0f4DOUXkyQQBh7UWl2Qr8qXW2fHQbp78HpRgqw0dIQQBP5WC2xB39uPYWzjHAjKkDwsC3T4dmXGYctkSy0Y4i_hVmkhBd1/s1600/IMG_4816.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiuEVxvWh8H5flMAFax4hwa2kVsD9qmeoOTJ13jRv5dVnqZ0V0f4DOUXkyQQBh7UWl2Qr8qXW2fHQbp78HpRgqw0dIQQBP5WC2xB39uPYWzjHAjKkDwsC3T4dmXGYctkSy0Y4i_hVmkhBd1/s1600/IMG_4816.JPG" height="300" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Cousins meeting first time cousins.</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgC9yi7WZwU2b2AqcjE9pfLUl9BMFjs2PVsGKBqnDSmKf9i1WrIFyqKFoaL0zDGlxwqiHa4Q_SEzweOK_yrYFJLQc2i87Tb-P8EMckJp7WRnJTER-zj1Ltj-csozWjvfkxrZvPOzg5ZB8MJ/s1600/IMG_4826.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgC9yi7WZwU2b2AqcjE9pfLUl9BMFjs2PVsGKBqnDSmKf9i1WrIFyqKFoaL0zDGlxwqiHa4Q_SEzweOK_yrYFJLQc2i87Tb-P8EMckJp7WRnJTER-zj1Ltj-csozWjvfkxrZvPOzg5ZB8MJ/s1600/IMG_4826.JPG" height="300" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Leah's a pro at this babysitting business already.</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhbYU9p4XKuHtjGC76MgHm_q6K0_vZsajkCXRk_1pGoQ2SbdACJp_ajdMfbPyHxt7ZMgzi8mjMem04e_lYRFGUXs9pJbl3EjCpPXUx5A3bzKj4SuRREP8P3TxIHI-8JbgBh_sgamylLvG86/s1600/IMG_4827.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhbYU9p4XKuHtjGC76MgHm_q6K0_vZsajkCXRk_1pGoQ2SbdACJp_ajdMfbPyHxt7ZMgzi8mjMem04e_lYRFGUXs9pJbl3EjCpPXUx5A3bzKj4SuRREP8P3TxIHI-8JbgBh_sgamylLvG86/s1600/IMG_4827.JPG" height="300" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Luke Russell and his Papa...Russell was my grandpa's first name. (my dad's dad)</td></tr>
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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="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhVl9anRcZw0moS4nLehnNTtXheiP28SwC8kMUD8VeMPADJrQm7AL8bx4R2j6x4iOe7hmylwCr41-xOLCImulmRBTuIx63Q9qLBI_XgCeomS78nFjdN799iaLFuA4Sd-LHEZBTNaAXAK1n6/s1600/IMG_4865.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhVl9anRcZw0moS4nLehnNTtXheiP28SwC8kMUD8VeMPADJrQm7AL8bx4R2j6x4iOe7hmylwCr41-xOLCImulmRBTuIx63Q9qLBI_XgCeomS78nFjdN799iaLFuA4Sd-LHEZBTNaAXAK1n6/s1600/IMG_4865.JPG" height="400" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Girl's spent the sunny afternoon prepping for the upcoming fishing season. Waiting for the spawning of the white bass.</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi93QqSjzUWlVMjEyGXmT24uJZmXtCqAhm4ClUa9QLUpEvRKjxCTtdLYY8I6T2BQzFD31dXQZ8sAQYNFO1Si4MKncgdy2wPcOdhAPwiV7Z6nvl7GIlT_lnJPJxusX4q_QLcWtF42msJ1Rox/s1600/IMG_4876.MOV" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi93QqSjzUWlVMjEyGXmT24uJZmXtCqAhm4ClUa9QLUpEvRKjxCTtdLYY8I6T2BQzFD31dXQZ8sAQYNFO1Si4MKncgdy2wPcOdhAPwiV7Z6nvl7GIlT_lnJPJxusX4q_QLcWtF42msJ1Rox/s1600/IMG_4876.MOV" height="400" width="225" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Blake's really learning a lot at gymnastics.</td></tr>
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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="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg_6GVKMcKeAZpTwMFHfKyq7gWyBLlx4ZEZoSBCOfhAXyrv1GRMu5bQ5taoLuSZmiYO-LFgsqkReSKN4mKjiKGphdkPj35Anzg6zaSgZ1lwBUbVYq4KSAo1c0DDGW_e5704L04SYM6AJ23a/s1600/IMG_4881.MOV" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg_6GVKMcKeAZpTwMFHfKyq7gWyBLlx4ZEZoSBCOfhAXyrv1GRMu5bQ5taoLuSZmiYO-LFgsqkReSKN4mKjiKGphdkPj35Anzg6zaSgZ1lwBUbVYq4KSAo1c0DDGW_e5704L04SYM6AJ23a/s1600/IMG_4881.MOV" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Autum is practicing her cheer moves she learned.</td></tr>
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Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07232816361756308076noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4537995979713666504.post-12314626353103718162015-02-25T20:52:00.000-06:002015-02-25T21:01:25.427-06:00I Choose...<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
I am typing this blog with tears streaming down my face...my heart aching. Stomach churning.<br />
This is the week of the CrossFit Open. 2015. My year. What I've been training for. This has been my goal year for awhile now. I've worked harder the past year than ever. Reaching new goals. New heights. New weights. New movements. Checking off my lists of weaknesses. No distractions. Fully focused. This is it. The season starts, tomorrow night.<br />
<br />
This is where my hard work pays off. Where I lay it all down. For the next 5 weeks, completing workouts, submitting scores against other people in my Region, in hopes of making it to Regionals in May. Regionals. My motivating factor through every sweaty workout, every 5:00 am wake-up call, every mental battle, every "I want to quit," every bruise, every ache and pain, every get back up again. I just want to get there. All my IG posts scream, "you can do this!" "No excuses!" "It's Now or Never!" "You earn what you put into it." "If you work hard enough, your dreams will come true..." <br />
<br />
And I do. I really do. Hope they do.<br />
<br />
Someday. For sure, someday.<br />
Just not any day soon.<br />
<br />
My turning point came at a competition in December. I was the oldest female athlete. The only one with kids. Most definitely the only one with 2 kids with special needs. The only one married for double digit years. <br />
<br />
Hmmm...where was everyone else my age? With kids?<br />
Not there. Because this stage of life is hard. Harder than any Open workout. Life with "little's" is full-time. Overtime. All the time work. And I was the only one crazy enough to try to do both.<br />
<br />
The disbelief by the other competitors struck me. How do I do it? How do I make time? How do I train hard and be a mom/wife? While I felt honored to be able to share that I was doing it. And it could be done...<br />
I was convicted all at the same time.<br />
<br />
And I couldn't shake this conviction. That I wasn't really doing it all. Well.<br />
I prayed and wrestled with God for a month...what am I supposed to do? I can't possibly give up all I've worked so hard for, for so long. I don't know what I would do if I didn't compete. Competing is my motivation. My push. My drive. I live for it.<br />
<br />
So I prayed for an answer. A solution. A way to do it all.<br />
And it came...loud and clear one Sunday afternoon while I was praying for discernment as to what I should do about my CrossFit goals and my goals as a wife and mom. And as clear as day, I felt the Holy Spirit say, <i>"You will rest this year. That is your big performance. You will be done for now......I have bigger plans for you."</i><br />
<br />
And this may be where I lose most of you. Because I have doubted this clearly spoken directive, myself. Over and over. But as soon as I surrendered to this, as soon as I said Lord, your will be done. I want to follow you. Obey you. This goosebump like peace fell over my body. And I knew this to be my decision.<br />
<br />
I asked several people to pray over me in this decision as I knew it would be hard as the CrossFit season neared. As people asked me if I was getting excited...and ready...and if I was going to get to Regionals this year. Because I truly want to say, "YES! I'M READY...I'M GOING TO DO THIS! I am ready to make a name for myself, #homegym is ready to make a statement. Prove my efforts. This is it!"<br />
<br />
And I knew the battle would be hard. I expected people not to understand. Or buy my real lack of reasoning.<br />
I am obviously struggling with it tonight. It's tough.<br />
<br />
But much more than I want to be known as a CrossFit athlete that is a mom and a wife and does it all...<br />
I want to be known for not doing anything. Transparent<br />
Only as a humble servant of Christ. Who honors her husband. Guides her children. Loves her Lord and Father.<br />
<br />
More. <br />
<br />
I love working out. And will continue to do so. Hard. Because that is a passion God has put in my heart.<br />
But right now, under the umbrella of rest. Sitting still. Waiting. <br />
And this could quite possibly be the hardest workout I've done yet. Because there are no banners screaming "do less." "Be still." "Rest." "Be quiet." "Seek nothing." And no one encourages you to seek the slower, smaller route. Because this type of workout, this resting piece, requires faith. Faith in things unseen.<br />
<br />
Things hoped for.<br />
<br />
Things of eternal value that carry no merit on this earth. And don't fill a scoreboard. Or earn me points. Sponsorships or recognition. No, this workout involves more discipline, sacrifice, humility, stepping aside so God can work...effort. It requires hands-on parenting. Being purposeful with my husband. Jobs I may never receive affirmation for this side of Heaven. No measuring progress. No immediate results. All based on hope. And faith and love.<br />
<br />
And this, my friends, is the kind of workout I want to live for.<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<br /></div>
Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07232816361756308076noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4537995979713666504.post-45886993994343296662015-02-11T16:47:00.002-06:002015-02-11T16:55:43.730-06:00"Hot 'n Ready"<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
<span style="font-size: x-large;">S</span>o Wednesday nights have become Jerad and I's "date" nights. Kids at church for 1 1/2 hours...alone time for us. It's a rare commodity around here because for some reason finding a babysitter to stick around with our gang is tough! Understandably so.<br />
<br />
Anyway, I had a fun night planned for us. I sent him a text this morning, telling him I was in charge of tonight's date.<br />
<br />
My plan was to make manicotti with chicken and basil pesto, covered in alfredo sauce. It's a long running joke in our house because I made this meal when we were first married and didn't boil the manicotti noodles first, stuffed them full of cheeses, baked them in the oven and served them for dinner. After the first crunchy bite, I knew I had done something wrong...because I was in near tears, Jerad pretended to hack his way through one before giving up and we ordered out....It's funny now. I just now let him laugh and tease me about it...most days.<br />
<br />
I was going to replicate this recipe with the noodles boiled first...some candles. I had some massage oils out for a shoulder/neck massage for him while we watched the first season of Game of Thrones on DVD. I even bought a cheap DVD player for our bedroom so we could lay in bed and possibly fall asleep while watching this enticing series. He has been working a lot lately so I was going to stay up and go get kids at church and get them to bed. While he rested...<br />
<br />
I had it all prepared and was excited!<br />
I ran to the store with my grocery list, got what I needed. And rushed to get it all prepared early. I got Autum out of the van, swung the front door open where the groceries were...the bag containing my alfredo sauce and manicotti noodles happened to be bagged together so neatly....and so when the glass jar of alfredo sauce rolled out the door and splattered across the cement driveway, my jeans, shoes, and the van door...breaking into 100 tiny pieces...I yelled...and just as quickly as I processed that disaster the manicotti noodles followed suit flying out the opened door and hit the ground very near the mess of alfredo sauce, breaking into 1000 manicotti noodle pieces...HUH...?<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhk0my3jJnh5uNJF_rtWD6e4wIjr00o3ZsAL18SM1NH-BYOwsm6yatorqG-KUgpfkKy2HEHAc6q-vCRavYIfalpPPyTLgLzrRlXn6TqOGx8iYxXw26ZOj52CslB3t6CmdArdxgr8V8aX2wT/s1600/IMG_4597%5B1%5D.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhk0my3jJnh5uNJF_rtWD6e4wIjr00o3ZsAL18SM1NH-BYOwsm6yatorqG-KUgpfkKy2HEHAc6q-vCRavYIfalpPPyTLgLzrRlXn6TqOGx8iYxXw26ZOj52CslB3t6CmdArdxgr8V8aX2wT/s1600/IMG_4597%5B1%5D.JPG" height="400" width="300" /></a></div>
<br />
Hmmmm...that moment when you linger between crying or laughing...(imagine Jeopardy music here)...doo doo doooooo do, dooo do do...<br />
<br />
Laugh. Just laugh. It's all I could do. Or else the tears of crying may not stop. (tough week)<br />
<br />
So I laughed, walked inside, got paper towels to clean up the mess, unloaded the rest of the groceries in silence. Assuring Autum I was ok. Yes I was ok. I just needed a minute. <br />
<br />
Trying to figure out how to reconstruct my date night, I plopped down in the chair to think. And not react. Just keep laughing. Laughing. Yes, laugh.<br />
<br />
Ha. Ha. Ha.<br />
I decided to look up my Handy Dandy go-to website...<a href="http://www.thedatingdivas.com/">www.thedatingdivas.com</a> surely they could help me out!<br />
So Pizza it is...<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhFgv2GBnkdXdKwcmZbShny1_A_1KjLbs6_y19E-_JgZH8lExaHuGGxMVTQpQPJSm4eq5CnYN0X3FhMCZp3bj9itF8CV3q4aAqqElu0dJQAu8Otf_V3tXqY4WCKjQXOnIyBhNyIbX4KUrj8/s1600/Day-20-Hot-N-Ready-PP.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhFgv2GBnkdXdKwcmZbShny1_A_1KjLbs6_y19E-_JgZH8lExaHuGGxMVTQpQPJSm4eq5CnYN0X3FhMCZp3bj9itF8CV3q4aAqqElu0dJQAu8Otf_V3tXqY4WCKjQXOnIyBhNyIbX4KUrj8/s1600/Day-20-Hot-N-Ready-PP.jpg" height="640" width="320" /></a></div>
<br />
<br />
<br />
I messaged him I may not be hot and ready, but more a hot mess and tired-and I may add 2 bottles of wine to this pizza night-but hey, I'm not giving up yet! We will have a date night and we are going to enjoy it--dang it! :)<br />
<br />
And to top it off right after deciding on this, I get a call from the school to come pick up Blake. They think he's not feeling well after falling and hitting his head on the table...so probably no church for this guy...BUT, he may get a lot of iPad time tonight...with his headphones! ;)</div>
Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07232816361756308076noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4537995979713666504.post-40987414973777304592015-02-07T18:08:00.001-06:002015-02-07T18:15:47.066-06:00My Weekend Vacation<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
Leah is taking over the blog today... <br />
<br />
Santa gave me a gift to Wichita. First my mom and dad and I went to mall I got some clothes then we got my nails done at the California Nail Salon. I wanted to stay at the top which was 4th floor of the hotel and I got too. I bought shirts at Justice. Jeans at Target with my gift cards.<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjbCaAs8H6AEJkRepqoEAuI5j7nOZgIDyTl8kj8GwoM_YXISKOpITuK7ajcsD-XD0C7MYKeC7OY7BB0-UPjAih2Gn3sDZ_eIj6m-ycKcdpwtzet41EkdhNO4-C1mYjrcEtC-_jaMtRdpcWg/s1600/IMG_4472.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjbCaAs8H6AEJkRepqoEAuI5j7nOZgIDyTl8kj8GwoM_YXISKOpITuK7ajcsD-XD0C7MYKeC7OY7BB0-UPjAih2Gn3sDZ_eIj6m-ycKcdpwtzet41EkdhNO4-C1mYjrcEtC-_jaMtRdpcWg/s1600/IMG_4472.JPG" height="400" width="300" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Getting my nails painted.</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjvcy8DUk-MExoXn1OqYGDUi1lb6rC56kosVTVzBjt-qv_gSwa_v7d7bv3wXR2c6rBgGV9chepBYsuHivi8LcWwBD9_DZrtZlYE9B5EIyxOHrTRmU9ykT1EASEVRZAG5FGyVP_I_8uNIJyb/s1600/IMG_4475.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjvcy8DUk-MExoXn1OqYGDUi1lb6rC56kosVTVzBjt-qv_gSwa_v7d7bv3wXR2c6rBgGV9chepBYsuHivi8LcWwBD9_DZrtZlYE9B5EIyxOHrTRmU9ykT1EASEVRZAG5FGyVP_I_8uNIJyb/s1600/IMG_4475.JPG" height="400" width="300" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Pink sparkles, with blue zebra stripes.</td></tr>
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At the hotel they had a pool me and daddy did lots of dunking and cannon balls and sat in the hot tub--it had bubbles.<br />
We ate lunch with my Uncle Chad for his birthday. Saw my Mimi and Papa. They watched my sister and brother while we were gone. Then we came home.<br />
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