tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-371559782024-03-07T06:02:33.483-08:00.Kylehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09922094009020156052noreply@blogger.comBlogger342125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-37155978.post-48035543112602928532015-10-19T21:45:00.001-07:002015-10-19T21:47:31.287-07:00A good dayI didn't spank any children today. We played outside in short-sleeves. Libby made a delicious dinner for us all by herself. I read three long, interesting books to the kids and they all listened and loved them. My kitchen is clean. My kids are asleep. It was a good day.<br />
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Nope, these pictures were not taken today, but they capture the essence of today.</div>
Tiffanyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11839059767032980731noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-37155978.post-82180782742266627422015-10-06T22:51:00.000-07:002015-10-06T22:51:02.840-07:00TenTen years ago today, I joined the ranks of motherhood, and boy am I glad I did. Overall, my stress level has been much higher this past decade than previous ones (most of which is naturally explained by my age, but I think there's still something to this). In fact, I heard of a study that somehow measures happiness and determined that adults experience a net decrease in happiness after becoming parents. I actually believe it, but don't think it provides the whole picture. My pre-parenthood lows pale in comparison to what my kids have put me through, for sure. But my pre-parenthood highs also don't stand a chance against the thrills and extreme joys that these small, dependent lives have given me. So yes, if you average it out, perhaps this past decade has been my saddest, or at least my most difficult, on account of being a mother, but I wouldn't have it any other way.<br />
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One thing's for sure, and that's that my lows would be much lower without this girl. It's almost criminal how much I take Libby for granted. With Kyle gone so much, it's probably about how much I used to take him for granted. Libby is a remarkably selfless being. She actually wants to watch Cosie and clean her room (or at least more than my other kids). She thanks me emphatically for every meal. She asks people how they're doing and genuinely cares. Yes, she cares. She cares about so much and so many, so very much. She is just what this world needs, and just what this mama needs.<br />
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Happy birthday, dear Elisabeth/Ellie/Libby.<br />
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Tiffanyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11839059767032980731noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-37155978.post-75070663250765443402015-09-29T22:23:00.000-07:002015-09-29T22:23:10.737-07:00Me again.Hi there, it's me again. I intended to write last Monday about the state of things and that it is a sad, sorry state. Particularly if you ask my feelings or sanity. I have spent many days this year feeling extremely overwhelmed, despondent, frustrated, lonely, angry, and hopeless. I wondered at times if postpartum depression was striking, but I think it's been wholly circumstantial.<br />
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Having a newborn is always struggly for me. I'm awful at sleep training and I inadvertently follow attachment parenting principles, so I end up with super clingy babies and fractured rem cycles. Then there are the four older children. The toddlers are demanding by disposition, and Amelia has suffered from displacement in a manner that makes us all suffer. It has been a truly difficult year managing her emotional volatility. The olders are older and easier, but have their own emotional hangups, plus homeschooling them is no simple task. The time we actually spend studying curriculum is nothing compared to the time and energy invested in researching new products, curriculum, techniques, opportunities, and anything else that could possibly improve how we're learning. I will never feel like I'm doing enough for their education.<br />
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It's also been nine months since we started a restrictive diet to treat Libby, Erik, and Charlie's severe eczema outbreaks. In January, their skin all flared up to an unprecedented extent, and the persistent itchiness quickly turned into open wounds, scabs, and more eczema spreading up their arms, chest, neck, face, and legs. Between the miserable itchiness and pain and social embarrassment over their striking resemblance to lepers, these kids were suffering. I felt I had to do something effective, so it had to be drastic. After a good long scouring of library and online resources, I settled on the GAPS diet, which attempts to heal them from the inside out through nourishing, easy-to-digest foods. This meant eliminating ALL grains and starches (rice, corn, wheat, oats, quinoa, potatoes, sweet potatoes, beans, etc.), ALL sugar except minimal honey, all uncultured dairy, and anything processed or with weird ingredients. I could say a lot about how this has worked out for us, but this post is not about food. It's about life's burdens, and depriving my family of all grains and sugar has been a tremendous burden. Sure, it's become much, much easier over time, but it's still a sacrifice of time, money, and effort that I wouldn't have undertaken if I'd felt there was a reasonable alternative.<br />
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When I was called to be the primary president a few months ago, I knew something in my schedule had to give, and preparing meals was such a time-suck, so I went with rice. Reintroducing rice helped considerably decrease my workload in the kitchen, actually. Being primary president has been a great experience, though it's also been one more area of life in which I under-perform. I just can't stay on top of it all.<br />
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The other circumstance that has contributed to my sorrows is my absent husband. When Kyle started consulting over a year ago, I tried to be tough about parenting solo for four days out of every week. I was positive for as long as I could, but eventually I decided to be honest with myself. It's hard. For a lot of reasons.<br />
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On top of all this, my dearest, wonderful mother is dying of cancer and I'm far, far away from her. There's almost nothing I can do for her or do about my parents' situation and it's just awful.<br />
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So, for a lot of this year, getting through the day with breaking down emotionally has been difficult. Sometimes I'm okay. I'm functional. I'm happy when I interact with friends. But I yell at my kids, a lot. My house is a disaster and that is mostly why I yell at my kids. Sometimes I throw away their things or say mean things or lock myself up in my room and make them put themselves to bed. Sometimes I feel anxious or heavy-hearted about just making it through the moment or the hour. It just doesn't feel like things will get easier in the foreseeable future. I'm doing all I can to keep myself intact spiritually, eating well, and trying to be grateful that things aren't worse in the countless ways they could be so very much worse. Usually this results in feeling crappier that I don't appreciate my charmed life, such a blessed and ideal life compared to so many others.<br />
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In all this complaining, my ultimate message to myself tonight is that there is hope. Sometimes I don't see it, but today I do.<br />
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I spent this past weekend blissfully surrounded by dear friends from college. The sight-seeing, excessive gluten consumption, and abundant meaningful conversations were weekend highlights. Another was an observation made in the science museum. We were witnessing baby chicks hatching from their shells and I expressed my desire to break into their cage and help the exhausted, struggling little darlings out of their shells. My bosom friend explained that actually if you help a chick hatch from its egg, it will die because it won't have developed the strength necessary to sustain its own life. Wow.<br />
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I came back from this girls weekend rejuvenated in several ways, and already in two days I can see that I really do love being at home with my children and I do have a happy life and I can do this and do it well. Today I had normal hard mommy moments, but nothing resembling despair. I felt like me again.<br />
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I think I really just needed a break. Inevitably, all of my responsibilities will continue to wear on me and dark times will resurface. But I think I won't hope and pray for someone to save me from my struggles. I think I'll break out of my own shell, painstakingly though it may be, and have the strength to live my life. It's a life very much worth living.Tiffanyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11839059767032980731noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-37155978.post-56007582256597975252015-09-17T21:23:00.003-07:002015-09-17T21:45:40.219-07:00whoaThat was surprisingly easy. I actually expected to have forgotten how to create a blog post, but it was a single-click effort. Blogger must really be desperate to keep this dying art alive. It's still one click too many for most of us, though.<br />
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I decided to write a brief journal entry tonight, but instead perused a few previous blog entries and scrolled through my bloglist only to discover that I am not alone. Almost none of my friends still attempt to blog regularly, and the titles of most of our last blog posts are something akin to, "Yeah, I never blog anymore..."<br />
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Normally, I would let dying things die. That's what I'm doing with my houseplants. In the case of blogging, though, I feel a (probably fleeting) urge to renew these self-reports. I have no presence on facebook, twitter, instagram, or whatever other social media outlet currently reigns. True, I've written sporadic, lengthy journal entries to myself over the past year or two, but sporadic is a generous description of their frequency.<br />
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Mostly, I'm in need of some therapy, and blogging is self-therapy, so maybe it will fit the bill. (More than actual therapy that costs real dollars, that is.) So there it is: a blog post. That was simple. That was a start. Tiffanyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11839059767032980731noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-37155978.post-11872734131566153602014-06-15T20:05:00.001-07:002014-06-16T08:45:16.615-07:00I want moooooore!I'm not a minimalist. "Less is more" never applied to me when it came to verbal expression, color-coordinated accessories, lively acquaintances, wall collages, etc. It's just not my nature. <br />
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Why, then, have I felt so compelled lately to simplify, to streamline, reduce, and minimize? I don't just mean sorting through and tossing out stained and unused kids' clothes. I do that pretty regularly. We hold at least one enormous garage sale every year. And with four little ones under foot, shopping of any kind is pretty much not worth it. Where do our groceries even come from? I don't know because it is DEFINITELY not worth taking all the kids to the grocery store. <br />
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Anyway, I read Simplicity Parenting last year-- loved and embraced it. Still, I craved more simplicity, less clutter, distraction, and mayhem. It's so contrary to my core preferences and yet, I find myself being drawn to a simple, meaningful, minimalist life. Well, let me clarify here. Minimalism with four kids is not being able to fit all your possessions into an over-sized suitcase. And as romantic as it sometimes sounds, it's not moving to a tiny cottage in the woods and living off the land. It's just getting rid of excess, whatever that means. <br />
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What it boils down to for me is that there are certain things I greatly value in this life, eg family, friends, faith/relationship with God, good music, nature, books/learning, travel/exploration, wholesome eating, creative expression, "service"/being useful to others, and maybe a few more. Those are the things that fuel me and make my life worth living. Everything else, the way I see it, is a distraction from those things that I truly love and value. Granted, many things are necessary distractions and I don't begrudge those. Others are simply distractions. <br />
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My hope, my goal (and I'm really taking a leap of faith here) is to achieve greater peace and fulfillment, as well as time and money to spend on the things I really love by eliminating as much as possible of everything else. So.... I love you, skinny jeans in every color of the rainbow, and I love you, vintage table linens too pretty to ever use, and I love you, boxes of flamboyant holiday decor, and I love you, Millie's adorable collection of bathing suits... but you might not actually be adding to my happiness because, collectively, you're emotionally cumbersome and materially burdensome. (I fully acknowledge that simplifying our schedules, access to media, and other such things are incredibly helpful, too. Physical clutter is what is frustrating me most, though, so I'm starting there.)<br />
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I'm not entirely convinced, though. I do love my stuff. I'm just finally to the point where I don't want to love my stuff as much as I do. And perhaps I'm even prepared to do something about it. Not tonight, but sometime.... Kylehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09922094009020156052noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-37155978.post-59939949283107972202014-05-21T16:14:00.000-07:002014-05-21T16:14:01.939-07:00Be careful what you wish for...<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/AVvXsEh8xqF695B_TNbr3UW9q6elCacs15IAS540OBIkXwSHQhYzOmG9LUbGa6IzovYHvLQY8hBmeG5Dpagxtr5PBKSko4d4tjeSLV1b5uUN-r4nTycT_q5ApFaeAOu4Jeoh-4rElIsXug/s1600/WP_000379.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh8xqF695B_TNbr3UW9q6elCacs15IAS540OBIkXwSHQhYzOmG9LUbGa6IzovYHvLQY8hBmeG5Dpagxtr5PBKSko4d4tjeSLV1b5uUN-r4nTycT_q5ApFaeAOu4Jeoh-4rElIsXug/s1600/WP_000379.jpg" height="240" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Okay, so we've got a brief sampling of recent pics here. Good thing "done is better than perfect" because quality posting completely alludes me these days. At least there's Millie. Talk about a pick-me-upper.</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiR2bKJhqfRQUZIIgJSpv3CHXjoNN-HIUJi8C6bA6WUNW9NUioaaflK4ThU-aY2jWtFcLK8LDSZAsAJQ9NGdO4bH4mswkeNwDJiz03OcU2o8TJH0ZSKjRNLu1j3q3QbsEe9tTnF7w/s1600/WP_000398.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiR2bKJhqfRQUZIIgJSpv3CHXjoNN-HIUJi8C6bA6WUNW9NUioaaflK4ThU-aY2jWtFcLK8LDSZAsAJQ9NGdO4bH4mswkeNwDJiz03OcU2o8TJH0ZSKjRNLu1j3q3QbsEe9tTnF7w/s1600/WP_000398.jpg" height="240" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">In other news, be careful what you wish for when you discover five baby birds squeaking in a nest built into your friend's front-door wreath and openly covet the preciousness of new life that's right before their family every day.</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiZhNVPBZZvh7sApp9KFGvwO4zLaFcMCGgELSlC5JiTA7cs305SAVW6tBezYKPbVIUPEfZXHIXjTheVQe0TKY0LZwGSurNPl8fougtK7NsMgcD5qfER_STn91Led8EeexqFGYEruw/s1600/WP_000404.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiZhNVPBZZvh7sApp9KFGvwO4zLaFcMCGgELSlC5JiTA7cs305SAVW6tBezYKPbVIUPEfZXHIXjTheVQe0TKY0LZwGSurNPl8fougtK7NsMgcD5qfER_STn91Led8EeexqFGYEruw/s1600/WP_000404.jpg" height="240" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Because then, a few days later, you discover three dying baby birds (that aren't nearly as adorable, but that's beside the point) across the street and dedicate your entire afternoon and evening to trying to save them and despite your dedicated effort and prayers and hope and love, they die. </td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjBcRCTBpxTQNmo6PvwdXKsfBNU2nqBgn5DjVf83Du9WNpL7kKv71E6JIqX_yeGngpCADIoYNyZmD4NlbcO_IKAAbvqGoajDkoEwClHc4VxbgKxFuVuFrk9mhXQH_4jrURWNodvEw/s1600/WP_000403.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjBcRCTBpxTQNmo6PvwdXKsfBNU2nqBgn5DjVf83Du9WNpL7kKv71E6JIqX_yeGngpCADIoYNyZmD4NlbcO_IKAAbvqGoajDkoEwClHc4VxbgKxFuVuFrk9mhXQH_4jrURWNodvEw/s1600/WP_000403.jpg" height="240" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">This one's for Judy, who told the hilarious tale of Kyle and his sibs despairing over their lack of accolades after school field days. "All I want is to get something other than a participant ribbon!," she quoted, to Kyle and my hysterical belly laughing. I get it. I totally get it. And with that genetic heritage from both sides, what other type of ribbon would our kids earn at field day? The difference: our kids are still stoked to earn a participant ribbon. For now. </td></tr>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">One of my favorite things about spring and early summer is making my kids eat every meal, snack, and treat outside. They'll lose whatever table manners they might have had, but I'm down to mopping the kitchen floor once a week so I'd say that's more than worth it. </td></tr>
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<br />Kylehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09922094009020156052noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-37155978.post-4615379059341241402014-04-24T21:51:00.002-07:002014-04-24T21:51:30.418-07:00I was going toI was going to write about how I've been following through on my New Year resolution to read more. Not lots, just more. I've no less than a stack of parenting self-help books on my night stand on any given day and my ward's monthly book group has helped me supplement with a broader genre of novels. <br />
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I was also going to narrate more of our recent-ish travels, meaning anything within the past six months, before I forget how much I loved Turkey, New York, and New Orleans.<br />
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Then I was going to share how delightfully verbose little Mill is becoming. (She's fiercely loyal to her besties, Claire and Olive ("Cleh and Ovuh"), and yesterday I discovered her on the counter, stuffing canned olives into her mouth and declaring unrepentantly, "me taking many ovuh." Now if only she can only find some best friends named Mushroom and Cauliflower...)<br />
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I might've even gotten around to writing about the wonderful Easter weekend we enjoyed with Keesaw.<br />
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And lest we forget, tomorrow's the day we celebrate the love of my life. I would've wrapped up with a heartfelt tribute to the many wonders of being wed to such a man.<br />
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That's what I was going to write about. But today Kyle's mom is in the hospital having some heart problems. And today my mom found out she has two new tumors. And today I have a dear friend who is struggling in her marriage. And today the kids' guinea pig died. <br />
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Yep, they bought her with their own money, searching for the perfect piggie on craiglist every day for weeks. She only made it two weeks in our home before she deserted us, just like Midnight before her. Only this time we suspect blunt trauma. There were too many people over for us to understand what happened or who was responsible. Could've easily been one of our kids' carelessness. The pain is visceral, though. And it's only a faint shadow of the grief that will overcome us if any of our family members ever dares to desert us. <br />
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Overall, this is good for me. I need to suffer more. My life has been too easy, and I feel badly about that. If difficulties must arise, though, please just let them be mine alone. Is that too much to ask? <br />
<br />Kylehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09922094009020156052noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-37155978.post-6894481820429401992014-03-21T21:51:00.001-07:002014-04-23T16:02:43.221-07:00Thawin' in Nawlins<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiJdJYWv7B_tAo58trY0-QJ3iV1ewDoMw37SODn0-xWsLXhjIEkFcIiDyHqgwou0xw0Ybvhbrt64RHBFpq7LK4pxJ66APoa-LfzEYbKghvsH9JyvA5I3CXEl5g-Zc4hcvOUA-gYlA/s1600/romania-cars-burie_1574361i.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiJdJYWv7B_tAo58trY0-QJ3iV1ewDoMw37SODn0-xWsLXhjIEkFcIiDyHqgwou0xw0Ybvhbrt64RHBFpq7LK4pxJ66APoa-LfzEYbKghvsH9JyvA5I3CXEl5g-Zc4hcvOUA-gYlA/s1600/romania-cars-burie_1574361i.jpg" height="213" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">The good news about weather like this is that it drives doting grandparents south from Minnesota to our neck of the woods to thaw...</td></tr>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">which allows me to sleep in scandalously late every morning, among other blessings. We so enjoyed and appreciated our visit from Kyle's parents last month.</td></tr>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">We kicked it off with a surprise Valentine's day dinner, since they arrived around dinner time on the 14th. We set the table with our finest correll and ate gourmet homemade over candlelight, with our paper napkins on our laps and everything. It was lovely, and they were delighted by the gesture, which is really what made it count.</td></tr>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Kyle's parents are so good about going with the kids wherever their hearts and imaginations carry them. Erik had planned a birthday party for his favorite stuffie, Hua-mei, and on Grandpa's invitation Erik had written an assignment to bring chocolate-dipped pretzel "bamboo stalks." Grandpa ran to the store for pretzels rods and delivered.</td></tr>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Oklahoma had very recently bid farewell to winter weather so we were all ecstatic to enjoy the great outdoors for the first time in months. At a local park the kids quickly engaged in their own, highly predictable activities: Ellie immediately made a new friend to play with, </td></tr>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Charlie found a large stick,</td></tr>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Erik staked out a quiet corner and sketched something of inspiration,</td></tr>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">and Millie ceased to wandered further than a pace away from me. Grandma's goody bag had nothing to do with it, I'm sure.</td></tr>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">And another reason I love Ron and Judy is because they consented to being dragged an additional 12 hours south to New Orleans. Needless to say, this trip would've been impossible without them. As it was, despite an isolated incident of road trip barf, lots of traffic jams, and the usual crowdiness and crankiness, I found it to be the most relaxing and enjoyable road trip with kids in my memory. I highly recommend the 3:4 adult to child ratio for traveling.</td></tr>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Kyle's parents followed the Mississippi all the way from its origin in Minnesota to its end at the Louisiana delta. </td></tr>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">We stayed with our fabulous friends, the Tersigni's, who've lived there for years but are moving in a few months. This was our last chance to experience Mardi Gras with them and we had to take them up on it! Plus, Thomas loves outer space and plain lettuce almost as much as Erik and Henry has a stick collection so you know our kids are soulmates.</td></tr>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">We were a little concerned about swamp walking through the bayou after hearing reports of rogue gators, but then we couldn't even find any gators which seemed to be much worse.</td></tr>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">We did find this incredible tree which now constitutes my dream back yard. The roots grew this way because Native Americans buried mounds of shells under the tree and somehow the roots grew around them. There were still shells lying in the dirt all around the tree meaning this was the perfect site for digging, climbing, and hiding out-- will this specific tree please live in my yard forever?!</td></tr>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">P.S. We did find a gator or two, as it turned out! The first one was a baby and other was on the opposite bank so it really wasn't intimidating at all, which was a little disappointing, but also relieving. </td></tr>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Mardi Gras means lots and lots of beads (but no even partial nudity, not to worry)! Even two weeks before the actual holiday, parades were running strong all day and night over the weekend. After one and a half parades, we had our fill of cheap stuffed animals and plastic necklaces, and yet there was an undeniable competitive thrill involved with procuring unwanted trinkets from double decker floats. So much so that we plan to recreate that thrill for our friends by forcing them to line our street while we drive back and forth chucking at them all that unwanted loot we fought for at the parades. I mean it. </td></tr>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">I kind of love cemeteries (I think it's a Goodwin girl thing), so Cities of the Dead were on my itinerary without debate. I wish we'd had time to stroll through a little longer, especially with the sunset back drop and the warm, quiet air. This was at the end of a long day, though, and I thought an enormous, above-ground cemetery after dark might not be the best place to lose my children. </td></tr>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Another great thing about Kyle's parents is how often they buy us ice cream. (I think they were just super excited to be warm enough to enjoy a cold treat.) We enjoyed some funky flavors here at the Creole Creamery. Poor Kyle missed out on all of this New Orleans fun, which really is a shame considering he's the lover of jazz music and creole cuisine, but it looks like I at least called him periodically to let him know what a great time we were having. All in all, a fabulous trip.<br />
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<br />
I think I am realizing something about traveling. I've always known I love it, and also recognize that I romanticize it. Some people say getting there is half the fun. For me, perhaps half the fun occurs afterward, not beforehand. I really, really enjoy my trips in retrospect. Just like a good thrift store run, reliving the fun and adventure of traveling sometimes can be just as enjoyable, or even more so, than the actual experiences. There's no stress, hunger, exhaustion, sudden changes of plans, or any of the other struggles of traveling when you're warm and cozy in your own home recalling the trip. It's all roses. If our plans go awry on the trip, that only fuels better stories to tell afterward. With this expectation, there's much less pressure to have an incredible travel experience. Whatever bliss evades me at the time is only yet to come.</td></tr>
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Kylehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09922094009020156052noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-37155978.post-55266385579253999342014-03-03T17:38:00.000-08:002014-03-04T10:04:39.097-08:00It's Art<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhgXXL6MehGiHjpaxBTNCQhDdluvIQH9W1RDEKaMWF6J2iKySHpmClT4yf_90rN4zZXaMkFpxzF_kjZBQ9KyuzuBlWLFXeTtJ3rqjdK8CKjt0FQl8dROmYHxKdbSUB53DBIx7-i5g/s1600/pollock.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><br /></a><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhgXXL6MehGiHjpaxBTNCQhDdluvIQH9W1RDEKaMWF6J2iKySHpmClT4yf_90rN4zZXaMkFpxzF_kjZBQ9KyuzuBlWLFXeTtJ3rqjdK8CKjt0FQl8dROmYHxKdbSUB53DBIx7-i5g/s1600/pollock.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><br /></a><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhgXXL6MehGiHjpaxBTNCQhDdluvIQH9W1RDEKaMWF6J2iKySHpmClT4yf_90rN4zZXaMkFpxzF_kjZBQ9KyuzuBlWLFXeTtJ3rqjdK8CKjt0FQl8dROmYHxKdbSUB53DBIx7-i5g/s1600/pollock.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"> <img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhgXXL6MehGiHjpaxBTNCQhDdluvIQH9W1RDEKaMWF6J2iKySHpmClT4yf_90rN4zZXaMkFpxzF_kjZBQ9KyuzuBlWLFXeTtJ3rqjdK8CKjt0FQl8dROmYHxKdbSUB53DBIx7-i5g/s1600/pollock.jpg" height="167" width="320" /></a>Okay, formatting all the pictures on this post was the most miserable task I've conquered in a while, and actually I far from conquered it as you'll notice. Regardless, welcome to the somewhat mediocre evidence that my poor homeschooled children have learned something this year, or at least been exposed to educational information. Our goals, curriculum, and schedule are ever-evolving, but our study of famous artists and composers has remained constant, and not coincidentally, been my most favorite subject to study with them. </div>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Splatter painting seemed a good place to start, enter Jackson Pollock. Here's Erik's interpretation, with Ellie's and mine below, respectively.</td></tr>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Edgar Degas's famous ballerinas were a delight to study, and finding a painting simple enough to attempt to duplicate proved the challenge. Ellie and I gave it a shot.</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhI0tjSKzKqNjEfuJV3vDJbFBujRvXqAQwMupElmg6zGWPVs61-tbK4x19NpGL59sEUFQn4uFVAtdOPgc3qi_DNWzCVP-ZkUBmHeMHQaqmOILSnKI8CLspnFCs3qR7qiab-B3l86g/s1600/WP_000184.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhI0tjSKzKqNjEfuJV3vDJbFBujRvXqAQwMupElmg6zGWPVs61-tbK4x19NpGL59sEUFQn4uFVAtdOPgc3qi_DNWzCVP-ZkUBmHeMHQaqmOILSnKI8CLspnFCs3qR7qiab-B3l86g/s1600/WP_000184.jpg" height="320" width="240" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Erik opted for an equestrian sketch, another famous subject for Degas, though Erik took some artistic liberty adding the cowboy. His drawing always makes me smile.</td></tr>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Thanks to TMNT, Michaelangelo was the next artist they selected. First we created artwork by taping paper to the bottom of our kitchen table and definitely gained an appreciation for the method Michaelangelo used painting the ceiling of the Sistine Chapel. Then we tried some hands, which were surprisingly difficult!</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiz6ZnhTfR1rh2cefkVAad9pRAvBK3SEDRK6BQdshEBokfHg_R68N7srBJ53Iw5weu3cEI545TkQhhqKR5zklCbYTjzFZ5DNejapLxUURZSZ0TW5w2vkbKUZCWcPsA0cF4WLGml5w/s1600/WP_000179.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiz6ZnhTfR1rh2cefkVAad9pRAvBK3SEDRK6BQdshEBokfHg_R68N7srBJ53Iw5weu3cEI545TkQhhqKR5zklCbYTjzFZ5DNejapLxUURZSZ0TW5w2vkbKUZCWcPsA0cF4WLGml5w/s1600/WP_000179.jpg" height="240" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Erik put a good effort into Adam's hand but decided God was up for a high five instead.</td></tr>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Next up, Georges Seurat in all his pointillist glory.</td></tr>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Again, a good start from Erik but struggled with the follow-through. In his defense, these are all pretty challenging projects. We seem to be surprised at the emotional fortitude required each time to complete an art reproduction.</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiLJXAavD9bQ55slSUrZx7uSqNB3KMuiYNGX1jWQqpVVAXXzxoBSJvbItZFOzfViD-VagiZ1UNyXY_VmZ2UPz-_0yenWgk0cJK7ijkFXQwILZYVAeqHB9MHkW2AfgdeBiXyWO24gw/s1600/davinci.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiLJXAavD9bQ55slSUrZx7uSqNB3KMuiYNGX1jWQqpVVAXXzxoBSJvbItZFOzfViD-VagiZ1UNyXY_VmZ2UPz-_0yenWgk0cJK7ijkFXQwILZYVAeqHB9MHkW2AfgdeBiXyWO24gw/s1600/davinci.jpg" height="320" width="209" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Learning from Michaelangelo's hands, I went ahead and printed a sketch of Leonardo Da Vinci's Maddona of the Rocks. The detail and subtlety was daunting, but for better or worse, we persevered!</td></tr>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Erik opted out of participating in our Van Gogh painting session and I must've been too emotionally drained to care. Ellie and I tried using plastic forks to create the stripey texture, but I think having the proper paint and canvas would've helped. Still a fun project.</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhKcfue_f0FZPcYtOfLQSgOgMhUDm_dHE8dpZBJROI_WFX1hzwyVbTRQXEEIgPmhu6LxmvgRRkZDYZXt7Mz2m78VEspxxjj2I0vZkSjC4P69RIMbO8UCox6bOkb21s75-t9PSiJWA/s1600/monet.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhKcfue_f0FZPcYtOfLQSgOgMhUDm_dHE8dpZBJROI_WFX1hzwyVbTRQXEEIgPmhu6LxmvgRRkZDYZXt7Mz2m78VEspxxjj2I0vZkSjC4P69RIMbO8UCox6bOkb21s75-t9PSiJWA/s1600/monet.jpg" height="309" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">I don't think this is the actual Claude Monet original we copied, there were so many after all, but it captures the essence. At least for me and Ellie, this was one of the more rewarding art sessions. Lily pads are much more forgiving than facial features.</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh_gEXHENLctniJIAGNshUhHTDZTTTLcING-1ToeIWK0l9nL-2dv1S7d3f5Av_pYkWxalw8Nm_rnyNAa-YO5qHEgEmtzJ9BlV0JH2J1rJ-ONre7xK8UaUpImdNi1FOcqMEgCPMiDA/s1600/WP_000165.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh_gEXHENLctniJIAGNshUhHTDZTTTLcING-1ToeIWK0l9nL-2dv1S7d3f5Av_pYkWxalw8Nm_rnyNAa-YO5qHEgEmtzJ9BlV0JH2J1rJ-ONre7xK8UaUpImdNi1FOcqMEgCPMiDA/s1600/WP_000165.jpg" height="240" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">I wish Erik would've finished because I think he'd have made something beautiful, but after several frustrated outbursts over the particular shade not being achieved, his paper had been wiped off and scratched to its breaking point. He was also at his breaking point.</td></tr>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Matisse made some fun paintings that we would've enjoyed copying, but his paper cutting work is unique to him so we had to give the method a go. Erik actually did finish a nice paper collage of a rose, but unfortunately lost it. </td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjcGsJZwCsws20SnGvMP43Xme12FooChF5ZVb2iUGGZbScMebCX1llCKyTma4GPon7Vjvx-160Ltn81SafQ-0QFgDUsYXruMd96_DkcNacyZvFoEemPF6oP6e8LfdIcY7g5zaQGkg/s1600/WP_000168.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjcGsJZwCsws20SnGvMP43Xme12FooChF5ZVb2iUGGZbScMebCX1llCKyTma4GPon7Vjvx-160Ltn81SafQ-0QFgDUsYXruMd96_DkcNacyZvFoEemPF6oP6e8LfdIcY7g5zaQGkg/s1600/WP_000168.jpg" height="240" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Ellie created a scene of Byzantine worshippers in front of the Hagia Sophia. Totally her idea.</td></tr>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">I was feeling much more light-hearted, depicting my kiddies entertaining themselves in our lovely backyard.</td></tr>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">I love Mary Cassatt's impressionist work, mostly of mothers and children. Ellie chose this artist, eager to study our first female artist.</td></tr>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">I was so proud of Erik for finishing this painting! I recall that it took the larger part of an entire day, lots of redirecting, validating, persuading, encouraging, adapting, and waiting patiently. Noses are really struggly to paint, I know it. That's why I'm so proud of him. Also, I'm proud of me because all of those unfinished paintings of Erik's above are really just evidences of my unwillingness to painstakingly walk him through the process, not allowing him to give up just because it's difficult. Now I know what we're both capable of!</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhNkFvExbzEDhPGDw4R6g9h3G0rQNMvZWGyhiKAdj0DVf1DdvNg6TorpKPGgIoE4C27gDSiGUnpEEAvRs4rRGX5i2b6rlZzBHdjhiHiQ-wZ3CTX77QEmurepa_-WAOyFsoMWNuyQw/s1600/cassatt2.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhNkFvExbzEDhPGDw4R6g9h3G0rQNMvZWGyhiKAdj0DVf1DdvNg6TorpKPGgIoE4C27gDSiGUnpEEAvRs4rRGX5i2b6rlZzBHdjhiHiQ-wZ3CTX77QEmurepa_-WAOyFsoMWNuyQw/s1600/cassatt2.jpg" height="320" width="250" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">This was the original work of Cassatt's that Erik chose to copy, on account of it appearing to be an easier project. You'd think we'd have learned by now that they are never, ever easy!</td></tr>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">And what a homely likeness it is! Faces are so, so struggly, I tell ya. </td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgcbTQDu_H2oq42k8lWAiW2POnBeYP7vZfYRKFjFvbzwOXP1qtZ1NThkyaQffjRCqSWVXM0xKy3KBiYNhjvYNt32yQo2yN4wGslirtz72CEosUSlMJVNsGH4ehv0rrMnBjJQdDrsw/s1600/picasso.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgcbTQDu_H2oq42k8lWAiW2POnBeYP7vZfYRKFjFvbzwOXP1qtZ1NThkyaQffjRCqSWVXM0xKy3KBiYNhjvYNt32yQo2yN4wGslirtz72CEosUSlMJVNsGH4ehv0rrMnBjJQdDrsw/s1600/picasso.jpg" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Ah, good ole Picasso. Can't go wrong here, right?</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg_X6E3HACErDajkaP7RXzBK03gNuId3A3PrAa97c_L-1-siQr49ZL_OLknufa8eeu2hsfSn4Nm5rP7xVEVrCs8JQSjZvYxoeMnDs4z76WoUfmgqre4NGxlJBwAVw84OIxMtGSHuQ/s1600/WP_000156.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg_X6E3HACErDajkaP7RXzBK03gNuId3A3PrAa97c_L-1-siQr49ZL_OLknufa8eeu2hsfSn4Nm5rP7xVEVrCs8JQSjZvYxoeMnDs4z76WoUfmgqre4NGxlJBwAVw84OIxMtGSHuQ/s1600/WP_000156.jpg" height="320" width="240" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">I really love the way our collages turned out, and it was refreshing to create something with somewhat lower expectations of its visual appeal. </td></tr>
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This month it's Henri Toulouse-Lautrec and Georgia O'Keeffe, just like last month... We slacked a little on our art curriculum in February. Still, we're learning something together, we three, and if the Department of Public Education or whoever enforces these things shows up at my door demanding to know what my children have learned over the past six months, this will be most of the hard evidence I can offer. Is there a way I can get a hard copy of their improved critical thinking, creativity, curiosity and contentment? Yeah, didn't think so. Wish me luck! </div>
<!-- Blogger automated replacement: "https://images-blogger-opensocial.googleusercontent.com/gadgets/proxy?url=http%3A%2F%2F1.bp.blogspot.com%2F-znW5-TvhNBI%2FUw0UDSW3jNI%2FAAAAAAAAHFg%2FB2jMqNYTjxU%2Fs1600%2FWP_000182.jpg&container=blogger&gadget=a&rewriteMime=image%2F*" with "https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhqQzLQWYxsCVXU6B-ffhxSYC3v5zTlQkn6IzSzFAOP9C794ZnL6s-skZukhMqyNAlDXxPk50pz_FiboChxxHar22_Y50p7Kei3vDKfmt1OaJfKSXzB4ZMjqTyoa6kerHOGAnpHTQ/s1600/WP_000182.jpg" -->Kylehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09922094009020156052noreply@blogger.com5tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-37155978.post-61548415950450300742014-02-18T14:48:00.002-08:002014-02-24T19:12:18.643-08:00As I AmOkay, so my last post was melancholy at best, Ariel-esque spoiled at worst. Yikes. Still, it was helpful to formulate some of the thoughts that had been buzzing through my consciousness and validate them. I think if I allow myself to dream of greener pastures, I unconditionally will. Simultaneously, I could never deny that I live an incredibly cushy, nerf-life. <br />
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I still plan to reconcile my conflicting emotional narratives. For instance, in an attempt to curb some of my materialism, vanity, envy, and other such "thick of thin things," I'm setting down some concrete ground rules for myself. I actually introduced them to the kids, as well, though I won't enforce it with them since they don't have money to buy anything and honestly rarely want to buy stuff anyway. I'm the problem here. <br />
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Before I make any unnecessary purchase, it must meet at least one of the following criteria:<br />
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1. I've had it on my shopping list for a long time and have not wavered.<br />
2. It's ridiculously cheap. And I mean reeeediculous.<br />
3. It is so indescribably beautiful and perfect that I can't imagine being quite so happy without it.<br />
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Yeah, preferably all three criteria. And then, if I do deem the item worthy of purchase, directly upon arriving home and nuzzling it into some now-much-brighter corner of my home, I am also required to remove two similar items from my home. Yep, straight to the thrift store donation box. The two removed items must be as similar to the newly-purchased item as possible. This is to prevent me from buying more ballet flats and justifying it by tossing out old socks.<br />
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Ellie and Erik seemed a little concerned about the equation I was presenting. Erik lamented, "But then soon we'll have NO toys left!" Ellie, on the other hand, resolved to sell those pairs of less-wanted items at a garage sale to earn money for a new guinea pig, and confidently asserted, "Well, then I'm going to start buying lots of new stuff right away!" Yeah, we'll need to review the math, but I'm pretty pleased with the prospects. <br />
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I haven't made an unnecessary purchase since creating this new plan last week, so I think so far, so good! Also, I realize this plan mostly addresses materialism, but I'm hoping it will spill into the territory of some of my other vices. A girl can only hope.<br />
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In other news, my family continues to be my most tremendous source of cuteness and pitter-patterings of the heart.<br />
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Ellie has been learning to sew, cook, and clean like a champ lately. I think she's trying to replace me, and I'm just pleased as puddin' 'n pie.<br />
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Kyle's mom gifted tickets to the Children's Theater to Ellie and me for Christmas and the performance was everything we dreamed it'd be and more. Seriously.</td></tr>
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Erik continues to see the world through a scientific lens, sometimes literally. He adores Ellie's microscope and wishes only for a telescope for his birthday. (Congratulations, Tiff, for finding one for 70% off at Target after Christmas.)<br />
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">We were all a bit disappointed that the lion's mouth drinking fountain was out-of-order, but Erik took it the hardest.</td></tr>
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Mish gifted Kyle a FryDaddy electric fryer for Christmas and our taste buds and muffin top just couldn't be more robust as a result. One night our family was identifying Kyle's homemade hush puppies as creatures. Ellie called hers a bird. Charlie declared his a whale. Millie's was a fox. "Mine looks like a polyp," said Erik. The ocean coral variety, not the kind you have removed after a colonoscopy. Ahem.<br />
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Charlie and I were recently talking about emotions and I asked him to tell me something that makes him angry. Without missing a beat, he replied, "when people don't follow me." Indeed. He can't really handle not being a leader, though much of the time all he's trying to lead is his own (sometimes naughty) ideas into full fruition.<br />
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Charlie beams and excels at school. So many people there to lead, I guess.</td></tr>
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In many ways, he's just as challenging to raise as he was three years ago. I recently was given the compelling advice to "never tell a stubborn child what to do." I'm trying to work on using enforceable statements with him, but I find myself often lacking in leverage. After all, there are only so many weapons to confiscate.<br />
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Millie is two. We love her even when she calls us "bap." That would be her version of "bad." With no exceptions, she corrects us by declaring herself a "big girl" when we call her "baby girl," but I won't stop until she ceases to melt my heart with her smallness. Or until we have a smaller baby, whichever comes first.<br />
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">She's still a baby, right? RIGHT?!</td></tr>
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And Kyle is ever my rock. I plan to keep him around until I'm as generous and forgiving as he is, and then I'll keep him around some more. <a href="http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=owNv81KIvAQ" target="_blank">Ingrid</a>, as usual, says it best: "I love the way you say "good morning," and you take me as I am." He takes me as I am, and I couldn't ask for more.<br />
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. Kylehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09922094009020156052noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-37155978.post-34283273640712084392014-02-03T13:45:00.000-08:002014-02-03T14:12:47.654-08:00giving up on greener pastures"I am giving up on second chances, and I am giving up on half-empty glasses, and I am giving up on greener pastures... I am giving up, for you." Oh, <a href="https://www.google.com/search?q=ingrid+michaelson&ie=utf-8&oe=utf-8&aq=t&rls=org.mozilla:en-US:official&client=firefox-a&channel=fflb" target="_blank">Ingrid</a>. Your words are so simple and poignant and true. I would forgive flaws in your vocal tone on account of such pleasing poetry. Alas, vocal flaws you have none. And perhaps a little bit of giving up is what I need right now.<br />
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I mean, I try to be thankful. I think or at least hope that I am. I would definitely classify myself as a happy individual on any given day, occasional painful moments excepted. And yet, it's rather difficult to determine my level of gratitude. I'm surrounded by people that I adore and every human comfort, and I see all this and love my life. Yet I dream. I wish, I long, I covet. (gulp.)<br />
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Take simplifying, for instance. Last year I read Simplicity Parenting and the principles resonated with me to my core. I feel I've been craving simplicity for ages, and practical methods of creating a simple life for my family were wonderfully appreciated. We purged our belongings, selling nearly half of our toys and packing 90% of what was left high in my closet for limited use. We sold boxes of books and barrels of clothes and everything that we didn't dearly love and that didn't encourage imagination. Our garage sale was an incredible success. I've tried to reduce unnecessary noise, artificial lighting, and screen time. I've tried to simplify our schedules, to give my children time to be true to themselves. Perhaps they haven't noticed, but I've noticed they're more content, and the entire experience has been liberating for me.<br />
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Still, it's not enough. I want it simpler. I want less stuff. I dream of the kids playing with sticks, stones, and scraps of fabric and never having to vacuum up legos again. I fantasize of having only seven loads of laundry to wash, for that is all the clothes we own. I confess I've even entertained a terrible notion, of a tornado whisking up my home and all its contents (we six would be safely elsewhere, of course) and spilling it in such a manner that we must begin again with a clean slate, and would choose to accumulate dramatically less than we currently own.<br />
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It's a ridiculous notion, I realize, particularly the tornado because holy traumatizing! Also, I happen to love stuff. I sell stuff, I give it away, I'm fairly unattached to almost every material possession, and yet I keep on buying! I buy it cheap so it's easier to justify, and I try hard not to add anything to our home that I don't love more than most of its contents. But if I crave clean slates and empty closets, why has my desire to accumulate failed to abate in the slightest?<br />
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So many things are beautiful to me, especially when they're unique and cheap, and I just end up wanting them. (Part of this can be explained by a core tenet of my personality that craves change and newness.) And yet I realize that stuff should not play a large role in my life's purpose. I should be perfectly content to own no more than what can be stacked neatly in a modest shack. I want to be that unattached to things. I think I want to live in a modest shack, that I'd be happy there.<br />
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Could I, though? Perhaps given the right setting? Or do I already know too much? Maybe I've already tasted of material excess to an extent that I'd never feel sated except as a glutton. Sometimes I think I'd like to try living without stuff. A rural existence in western Africa perhaps? It sounds gloriously simple. I've felt for some time that an American suburban lifestyle doesn't quite fit me right. The village shack life would be wonderful, but likely only for a time. <br />
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I feel so trapped between conflicting desires, and with no conviction as to which inclination deserves more clout. <br />
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A similar pattern manifests itself in various aspects of my thoughts. I want to put my children back in public school, yet I want desperately to keep them home. I want Kyle to make more money, but I want to need much less. I want to move, to travel, to live anywhere else, and in actuality my heart would break if we were to leave the home, friends and familiarity we've thoroughly enjoyed here. I want to look pretty and fashionable, while neither caring nor trying to. I want to feel peace and assurance that I'm doing my best, but what is my best anyway?<br />
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Who can confidently say they're doing their best? Such an elusive standard baffles my conscience. I could clearly be doing better in virtually every behavior, in very attainable ways, so how could I claim the peace that accompanies a perfect effort?<br />
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Is it okay to think these thoughts and feel these feelings? Is it okay to dream of greener pastures if that sometimes renders my own grass flavorless and dry? <br />
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Do I ask too many questions?<br />
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I think I can answer that one.<br />
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Fortunately, these musings don't trouble me too terribly much, likely only because I've little quiet time in which to muse. Still, I honestly can't help but wonder why I can't stop wondering. Am I being gently tugged toward a destiny vastly different from my current reality?<br />
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Or is it time to give up on greener pastures? Kylehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09922094009020156052noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-37155978.post-60002086884899777802014-01-27T14:39:00.000-08:002014-01-27T14:39:50.590-08:00In Loving Memory<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/AVvXsEgsHmS11GANKrTOwaMdkKcgAambnKRkXBfZ2ScOvOcBQ8gGTZyoGuxl9gGmbZVffzwUfEHuR0IR-QOTC-bmPfqKcJCdA4lXHEOpx1Nj7XyM2CZ7eRfZIWsSsAzJZKY3NFVWb6rAwQ/s1600/WP_000007.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgsHmS11GANKrTOwaMdkKcgAambnKRkXBfZ2ScOvOcBQ8gGTZyoGuxl9gGmbZVffzwUfEHuR0IR-QOTC-bmPfqKcJCdA4lXHEOpx1Nj7XyM2CZ7eRfZIWsSsAzJZKY3NFVWb6rAwQ/s1600/WP_000007.jpg" height="320" width="240" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Midnight Larsen<br />October 2013- January 26, 2014<br /></td></tr>
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It's rather shocking how tightly this fluffy rodent tugged on all of our heartstrings over the past month. So cliche, but it truly feels like much longer. Perhaps that's because Ellie and Erik had been wishing for a furry pet for quite some time, and this is literally the only thing they wanted for Christmas. <div>
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Christmas was celebrated in Minnesota so with the traveling, they knew we'd have to wait and buy the pet in Oklahoma. So instead, Erik asked for a guinea pig calendar from Santa and Ellie a bag of hay and pellet food, and they were ecstatic. Woo hoo, pellets-- Santa reigns supreme! Except this year Kyle and I outdid him. Their final gift was a small box containing a clue that led them on a wild scavenger hunt throughout the house, old-school Goodwin-style. </div>
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The surprise and elation on Erik's face and joy in Ellie's demeanor when they discovered Midnight for the first time, and named her immediately, was simply perfect. They've cared for her meticulously, ne'er complaining about how frequently the cage must be cleaned. They couldn't get enough of her and thankfully Midnight loved to snuggle. Erik literally believed that Midnight was cuter than Millie (pshaw!) and claimed he loved them exactly the same. I kind of hope that wasn't actually true, but I get it. Kids' hearts are so big that they can't quite distinguish between love of pets and love of any other family member. </div>
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And I can't quite distinguish right now between my kids' pain and my own.</div>
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I'm glad Kyle was home with them and I was out during Midnight's final moments. I am haunted even by the thought of that experience. I stayed mostly strong while the kids were conscious, but after the last tuckings had been tucked into bed, I retreated to my room and bawled. Through my choking sobs Kyle assured me that it wasn't my fault, but I knew better. </div>
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The guilt is overwhelming. I knew she was sick, that something was not right. When we realized she hadn't eaten all day last Monday evening, we arranged to rush her to the pet ER. It was our only option given our extra early am departure for New York the next morning. As we grabbed shoes and jackets, though, she inexplicably started eating, drinking, and happily squeaking. We breathed a sigh of relief and have been watching her with concern ever since. </div>
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Kyle and I came home late Thursday night and, though Midnight was nibbling here and there, she remained oddly lethargic. Our original research indicated that if she indeed had a respiratory infection, it would be fatal if untreated. In retrospect, it's so clear that we should have swallowed the cost and taken her in. We just didn't, though. We thought she was doing better, or at least not getting worse. </div>
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Now it's so clear I should have hand-fed her more fruits and veggies to boost her immune system, nestled a warm water bottle up to her to keep her warm, snuggled her more. True, taking her to the vet would've cost four times more than we paid for her, but the cost of not taking her in, we're discovering, is much greater. I feel foolish and selfish for not taking the time and thought to do what it took to make her well.</div>
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True, I've never been much of an animal-lover, but I've always been a softie when it comes to suffering, and now I see that Midnight was truly suffering. She was just a baby, and such a sweet, affectionate little thing. Guinea pigs are quite social and loyal and I do believe she already cared for us as we cared for her. And then we betrayed her. We let her die. The kids couldn't have known better, but I should have.</div>
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Perhaps when the guilt subsides a bit I'll be comforted by happy memories of the short period of her life in which she was robust and carefree. I'll be content then to entertain visions of heavenly reunions. Yes, she was just a rodent and for only a short time. But she was somehow more than that, too. To Ellie she was. To Erik she was. Even to Charlie and Amelia she was. And my heart can never be far from theirs.</div>
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Kylehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09922094009020156052noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-37155978.post-30644366057408292712014-01-25T21:55:00.001-08:002014-01-25T21:57:53.529-08:00Wanna know what we did this week?<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/AVvXsEi8rQoxsd_iY_8r4tW7OrK9JGDk7MyEtMQZE6LmbcppIE7KktzGECVmLv2dwm2tTabPbkZudivO05PXZZ2AAFYvLwk3HXHR1424k8BRnOA_pjFUxFJFp_STLGXzwcVey6tj-zcTmw/s1600/WP_000055.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi8rQoxsd_iY_8r4tW7OrK9JGDk7MyEtMQZE6LmbcppIE7KktzGECVmLv2dwm2tTabPbkZudivO05PXZZ2AAFYvLwk3HXHR1424k8BRnOA_pjFUxFJFp_STLGXzwcVey6tj-zcTmw/s1600/WP_000055.jpg" height="240" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Got stuck in Chicago.</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi8Jda2Kyh9TR68crxH99RHpbqZI13_C6clzUcBZoaDmXXjxS90_dFGzwU3rS_O0V20Hd2mQAasDM3Qdl0F1A9GZoOGVJVustGqSF5FL7S3swoKvy0uN_9O8TIDfJ0hodhhibI_2Q/s1600/WP_000056.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi8Jda2Kyh9TR68crxH99RHpbqZI13_C6clzUcBZoaDmXXjxS90_dFGzwU3rS_O0V20Hd2mQAasDM3Qdl0F1A9GZoOGVJVustGqSF5FL7S3swoKvy0uN_9O8TIDfJ0hodhhibI_2Q/s1600/WP_000056.jpg" height="240" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Persisted in a manner that would make Ma Goodwin proud until we landed ourselves on a flight to New York, blizzard and all.</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg08zKLgvZ8ZO6jvSdHLnZ0LV04lz6auXq2oKkMHuiQ6vtCLlRZ2eSyP3nqtsSKnF04-y8TGhtlIFPR0XobI3csjXfWtsHaNBiU8CehOI4baN3dFcPnDBuYf33qRwS5aSzWGVtWyw/s1600/WP_000062.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg08zKLgvZ8ZO6jvSdHLnZ0LV04lz6auXq2oKkMHuiQ6vtCLlRZ2eSyP3nqtsSKnF04-y8TGhtlIFPR0XobI3csjXfWtsHaNBiU8CehOI4baN3dFcPnDBuYf33qRwS5aSzWGVtWyw/s1600/WP_000062.jpg" height="240" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Statue of Liberty- woot woot! Yup, that's the best shot we got.</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgglOFHVZA_yldavQlVHY1LljR2ejsX70Gck6W7UyOvhwaJn5jcNh7pWJlZnqXKwQXeuHuKGafkiP2lgUR3Vg8JwOfWjvufpDLJt7qaelVJ_OiNmRF2AkCp3P-Ny0ZLQvyU81AEJA/s1600/WP_000064.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgglOFHVZA_yldavQlVHY1LljR2ejsX70Gck6W7UyOvhwaJn5jcNh7pWJlZnqXKwQXeuHuKGafkiP2lgUR3Vg8JwOfWjvufpDLJt7qaelVJ_OiNmRF2AkCp3P-Ny0ZLQvyU81AEJA/s1600/WP_000064.jpg" height="240" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">And here's the feeble proof that I was there at the Hudson River. The majority of evidence of our trip to NYC resides snugly on Kyle's phone. Even the sights of the Big Apple failed to lure my fingers out of woolen mittens for photo snapping. Polar vortex, people! </td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhNW4KNzwyj3afjjIFR1-AOwpdk9Mcb56EfpzwJ3d4bPqwNDnv1LrNjF4KeYXJwcKg-UZjT1xXUKmOfx_zVuNk2p-askFkljmJt4A2SdsYjr3dIMVvHInqxz_TpvpV77sPceHRw9A/s1600/WP_000070.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhNW4KNzwyj3afjjIFR1-AOwpdk9Mcb56EfpzwJ3d4bPqwNDnv1LrNjF4KeYXJwcKg-UZjT1xXUKmOfx_zVuNk2p-askFkljmJt4A2SdsYjr3dIMVvHInqxz_TpvpV77sPceHRw9A/s1600/WP_000070.jpg" height="240" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Upon arriving home, we promptly attempted to potty train Ming. Actually, we dusted off the potty and handed responsibilities over to Char. After forcing liquids on the poor girl and throwing her bag of m&ms around, both he and his baby sis lost interest. Four wet pairs of panties later, I gave up my dream of potty training Millie without having to do anything at all. Such a shame when laziness doesn't pay. =) </td></tr>
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<br />Tiffanyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11839059767032980731noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-37155978.post-6995240742587641172014-01-13T21:29:00.004-08:002014-01-13T21:33:53.413-08:00Smart<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
Guess what? I finally got rid of my flip phone (which, for the record, I actually loved and would've kept if it were up to me) since Kyle went all-out and gifted me a little something fancy for Christmas and I can take pictures on my new phone! Also I can reliably receive text messages and people say they can actually understand what I'm saying now, so that'll be nice. Our camera's been busted for a long while, so this new developments means I'm one step closer to actually documenting our doings so they can be recorded here! Just one step, though, folks. I still didn't manage to dig my phone out at the zoo today. That's why I bring along nice, responsible friends who take pictures of my kids. </div>
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Kylehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09922094009020156052noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-37155978.post-22608123792741622152014-01-05T19:54:00.000-08:002014-01-09T20:35:50.396-08:00Let's see, where was I?...<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;">Oh yes, the blog. I have faint memories of blogging. Somewhere in the midst of parenting, gardening, homeschooling, traveling, trying to make friends, overdoing holiday celebrations, church callings, and an obsessive following of The Amazing Race, this sorely neglected little blog has collected an embarrassing amount of dust. <br />
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But it's January so, for a time, I'm invigorated and committed to reinstating this little corner of my world. I'm quite out-of-practice now (writing feels so awkward!) so I won't dare call this a comeback, but it remains a coming back of feeble sorts. <br />
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And all I can offer this evening is an old (and I mean old!) unfinished draft of Ellie's. I'm not feeling ambitious enough to narrate the past year, but a few photos at least serve as evidence that time has elapsed, right? I think we've got snippets below of everything from Thanksgiving 2012 to Easter to the May tornado in Moore to Minnesota in June. That'll do, Pig, that'll do.<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj_bsd1rGUFQuI2xvdYICUV0Xjl-H5_IcC3BxBnH9mp6N4gZJBX5MvWwAtaVa5nsQIuCv7pzsg-sN5ukoyzm5Ij3pmbucp1SUo0jcTPooj2CYneNWehcuoIFHO4WhUlz8vC8NKy_Q/s1600/sep-oct+2012+051.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj_bsd1rGUFQuI2xvdYICUV0Xjl-H5_IcC3BxBnH9mp6N4gZJBX5MvWwAtaVa5nsQIuCv7pzsg-sN5ukoyzm5Ij3pmbucp1SUo0jcTPooj2CYneNWehcuoIFHO4WhUlz8vC8NKy_Q/s320/sep-oct+2012+051.JPG" height="240" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">oh yes the russian dolls, sometimes my mom lets us play with them.only sometimes,beacouse the littlest one is very very very tiny. its about the size of a crumb. one time when i played with them the biggest one would have a baby right when it was born and again and again and so on. and then a wolf came and they kept putting there baby,s in there stomach,s until it got to the biggest one.</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgaKvWTrZuFw2CwSB5WI69bhMkscqy5uaD2aB7uqx1ejATxMEUEnbenFN8LhX7qedg74yE_uQ-HR2ypQkCY6_W4NEMpt6tRGI4IfRxEos2sVLlw2L4NtFrhs0JkGbiowIgZ8b7H3Q/s1600/IMG_6196.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgaKvWTrZuFw2CwSB5WI69bhMkscqy5uaD2aB7uqx1ejATxMEUEnbenFN8LhX7qedg74yE_uQ-HR2ypQkCY6_W4NEMpt6tRGI4IfRxEos2sVLlw2L4NtFrhs0JkGbiowIgZ8b7H3Q/s320/IMG_6196.JPG" height="240" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">oh yah we went to the greek festaval ,we ate greek food,in a greek church. wached two dances that mabie were greek to. then we got free ballon hats yay.</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgO9FDU-4WapXt8cJy2LJXqo_Go2GDlX4bhvhm2PZFBHpC_jqhXUvtqRAXufi9xwMD4qS6D9_87l0jQTXy1ZfIfLwMok73EL2V98tSmSLrfhbFk0EvkgkQRluaUrZpGkUejF3zIxg/s1600/Charlie+ninja.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgO9FDU-4WapXt8cJy2LJXqo_Go2GDlX4bhvhm2PZFBHpC_jqhXUvtqRAXufi9xwMD4qS6D9_87l0jQTXy1ZfIfLwMok73EL2V98tSmSLrfhbFk0EvkgkQRluaUrZpGkUejF3zIxg/s1600/Charlie+ninja.jpg" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">charlie the ninja, ya no wonder he sometimes</td></tr>
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calls himself fighter.got lots of room for sords to, he has a cabnet [that nobody uses] to himself.he named it his stuff, charlies stuff is a popular name in our family. when we clean up any random toys that don,t have a place lots of times it goes in charlies stuff. and he doesen,t care whats in his stuff.<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiKm5_leb73fXhoF47Q0-6NeaAwEBxm-LdFcHznp_mLOQhZt6yH-qDu14Ud5X9MKpv1HqexZHj56ZK9J8bHffVFhJgql62OFW26vrMjvoy4TnlNjIVkeCoxnTTzXEYKw-7K269tJw/s1600/DSC06602.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiKm5_leb73fXhoF47Q0-6NeaAwEBxm-LdFcHznp_mLOQhZt6yH-qDu14Ud5X9MKpv1HqexZHj56ZK9J8bHffVFhJgql62OFW26vrMjvoy4TnlNjIVkeCoxnTTzXEYKw-7K269tJw/s320/DSC06602.JPG" height="213" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">oh ya my dads side of the family, my grandparents payed for us to go to a way asome hotel. with a asome brekfast bufft a asome huge pool with two asome water slides one was like a playground slide ,the other one you go through a short tube then you go in a wirlpool, go around it then go through a tube to exit and sometimes the wirlpool makes you go down the tube bakwards!</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgdDyrXVlk6aHax2EE43nwno9mGTWzr-M0KrV9yi4g-GmPCVuBLf2roEj55WJ0IhSIFYWZZFi_rKBfxVMn-KOB6xuK9m4BOo_aeSHRJ-HnjwyC0nkb5nmiltqU8zMf-gfLuoWnSKw/s1600/IMG_1955.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgdDyrXVlk6aHax2EE43nwno9mGTWzr-M0KrV9yi4g-GmPCVuBLf2roEj55WJ0IhSIFYWZZFi_rKBfxVMn-KOB6xuK9m4BOo_aeSHRJ-HnjwyC0nkb5nmiltqU8zMf-gfLuoWnSKw/s320/IMG_1955.JPG" height="240" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">amielieas baby, yes she use to to love it . but ever since she became intrested in owls she abandoned her baby. </td></tr>
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<br />Tiffanyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11839059767032980731noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-37155978.post-91646647108098670932013-04-19T22:49:00.000-07:002013-04-19T22:49:07.427-07:00P.S. EasterIt's coming. Or rather, it came and went, and I still intend to prove it. Here's a teaser.<br />
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Tiffanyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11839059767032980731noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-37155978.post-35208749521693548192013-04-19T22:43:00.000-07:002013-04-19T22:43:02.927-07:00Sugar and spice and everything nice<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
I know, I don't blog anymore. Guilty as charged. I do keep a journal, though! Here's a snippet from April 15th.</div>
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Charlie was engaged in his usual routine of grabbing things from Ming, smashing her onto the ground, dumping things out, and using swiped metal kitchen tools to bang on furniture and people's heads, with a few screams and slaps throw into the mix. That last one landed him in time-out. He's been especially resistant to time out lately so when he finally accepted that he couldn't escape without me plopping him back down in his room, he bawled.</div>
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Erik and Ellie were home but unfazed. Amelia, however, toddled on over and paused, squatting at his side with her arm extended toward him, opening and closing her fist toward him awkwardly, a sort of beckoning gesture. She made soft little coos of sympathy and didn't stop while he ignored her. Charlie kept crying and rolled onto the floor, and Amelia stroked his head while he cried, sometimes patting it softly, all the way until he stopped crying and said, "who's doing that?" When he turned and saw her, my heart was bursting and Charlie accepted her sympathy, offering her a rare <i>gentle</i> hug and kiss, and then was "all better." </div>
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She showed a similar display of compassion toward Ellie last week when she was left sobbing after Charlie stepped on her face. </div>
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Maybe this is typical behavior for a 16-month-old, dunno. I haven't seen it this young in my parenthood yet, especially the part where she shows so much devoted concern for the one who's in time-out for attacking <i><b>her</b></i>.</div>
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I love this girl so much it hurts. The hardest part about raising her has been how desperately she wants to snuggle and be held. Really? The worst part about my baby is that she adores me. My heart is full as I observe her adorable discovery of life and pursuit of happiness each day (which seriously is mostly taking care of baby dolls and stuffed animals, and snuggling with me). Stay small forever, sweet Ming. </div>
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That will make it much easier on my back muscles.</div>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Gotta love her unibrow-looking birthmark. She's such a muppet.</td></tr>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Oh, here comes the choke hold.</td></tr>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Still smiling.</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEivw57N7czYTtmNhnbITs1zf-yusckuBmunB6pGkgcQbTIYGmrfdKNqxGhOYW7QlyS-4myN4i4JvYxuwR87tAKLkSCgcPJTlHAU-rljdpKuzX7rqCpco4v2shalGXhd7oh-IXAjvA/s1600/IMG_2142.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEivw57N7czYTtmNhnbITs1zf-yusckuBmunB6pGkgcQbTIYGmrfdKNqxGhOYW7QlyS-4myN4i4JvYxuwR87tAKLkSCgcPJTlHAU-rljdpKuzX7rqCpco4v2shalGXhd7oh-IXAjvA/s320/IMG_2142.JPG" width="240" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Okay, now it hurts.<br /><br /><br />And then she goes right back to loving him. Such a miracle baby.</td></tr>
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Tiffanyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11839059767032980731noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-37155978.post-32269691900599659502013-02-25T22:04:00.003-08:002014-01-05T20:15:18.794-08:00We are Oklahomans!<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
It's brrrrr cold over here! Not Minnesota cold, mind you, but that Oklahoma wind chill shivers me timbers. When it's cold outside, I just can't quite force myself off my booty in the evening to craft, organize, or maybe even do the dishes. But I can blog! Or I could whittle hours away researching the foreign service, accumulating both practical pointers for jumping through all the hoops to get hired and persuasive data to convince Hubby this is worth pursuing. Yup, that's been a major obsession around my laptop lately. But blogging is good, too! Here's some stuff that happened last fall. </div>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEimp40mPcnEaN9s2Bo2ebmILIpwnYrEjM1So2LsFKttNbzA215iNRfH-_c4S-HhsTCio59C6pO4dRkrAuxIJlghSIShbMPjxRKu9HiR404EEpZZr0DRrGxeAFTyki30uArK5SAy2g/s1600/IMG_1631.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEimp40mPcnEaN9s2Bo2ebmILIpwnYrEjM1So2LsFKttNbzA215iNRfH-_c4S-HhsTCio59C6pO4dRkrAuxIJlghSIShbMPjxRKu9HiR404EEpZZr0DRrGxeAFTyki30uArK5SAy2g/s320/IMG_1631.JPG" height="240" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Kyle's parents offered invaluable service to us during our move, taking the kids while I flew down to OK with Ming to find housing and Kyle flew to AZ to relocate our junk. They then drove the kidlets down here and helped me get settled in. Kyle was already gone for training in New Jersey for a week. <br />
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Thankfully the Elders Quorum stepped it up and moved all the boxes in. Still, this is what I awoke to the morning of my birthday. Kyle's parents had just left, I believe. It felt a little familiar, waking up in a new land with unpacked boxes and no friends on my birthday. We like to move in August, I guess. Yep, just made a mental tally and since we were married this was the 6th birthday I've celebrated shortly after a move. I really ought to have joined facebook the night before so I could've reeled in cyber birthday kudos. Next August move! </td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEicItXGWuT9ljTcLAjn9tSs80lok1rQFyySBcwYH0oTEqh_qqxYBSZpQolw3ag2OXtwJkeWif-zjhb5GiOaTywYRkwpdKA9IKqxZzXvJkUz5HudgNWn2W1D162cse3nCHbLGJpcaA/s1600/IMG_1625.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEicItXGWuT9ljTcLAjn9tSs80lok1rQFyySBcwYH0oTEqh_qqxYBSZpQolw3ag2OXtwJkeWif-zjhb5GiOaTywYRkwpdKA9IKqxZzXvJkUz5HudgNWn2W1D162cse3nCHbLGJpcaA/s320/IMG_1625.JPG" height="320" width="240" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">School had already been in session over a week when we arrived, so these ones jumped right in! I had reservations about putting Erik in all-day kindergarten, which is the only option here. I still struggle with it if I think hard enough about what he's missing.</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgOt6LlxQImqYapKrZ5QLQzneKao5OgTQkFaZJh_Gk4KyjdGYToMwt-5MKU62kpBWhgXx4_gzSeV72T3CbQV5OPSMdq3ByLIeVDjq1oh2kfc-tcsvteLfO2MMqJyrV3eFZHcAAn-w/s1600/IMG_1627.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgOt6LlxQImqYapKrZ5QLQzneKao5OgTQkFaZJh_Gk4KyjdGYToMwt-5MKU62kpBWhgXx4_gzSeV72T3CbQV5OPSMdq3ByLIeVDjq1oh2kfc-tcsvteLfO2MMqJyrV3eFZHcAAn-w/s320/IMG_1627.JPG" height="240" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">My Debo dolphins of Angie Debo Elementary! We were fortunate to find a home close to a great school--close enough for them to walk, which saves my living sanity! If you recall, waking Charlie and Amelia up from naps to pick Erik up from school last year just about lost me my marbles. It's less than half a mile through our neighborhood to the school, and two older neighbor girls walk with them. Perfection!</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgIyhZrLpR1jj5HpoxZ1p4PBTOpRR-_13G8rR2YS2mqg50wbbUu4np1-wNrAQmxyumiL_dyipJx32P5qw9lE1Fj4eCoZahrhDw2hJgjg4YkYBcKU-1t-nbdRBPOjwR4KxkmH1YkOw/s1600/IMG_1628.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgIyhZrLpR1jj5HpoxZ1p4PBTOpRR-_13G8rR2YS2mqg50wbbUu4np1-wNrAQmxyumiL_dyipJx32P5qw9lE1Fj4eCoZahrhDw2hJgjg4YkYBcKU-1t-nbdRBPOjwR4KxkmH1YkOw/s320/IMG_1628.JPG" height="240" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Erik's teacher, Mrs. Bowden, is everything a kindergarten teacher should be. He adores her, and I believe she feels likewise. He's smart and quiet and never misbehaves in the slightest. At school. He saves his naughtiness for home. =)</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi_cee9sS9-5o7yR8ggLs-37wyJ-JU5gQyU4deM1k_egizMML_v26xzeXOqhah9JLIrf7_KIybPtIpxosYarwugSmKM41GoAi1xMoCTBFusFkJcDAFLQtPu381wGiKBnSPDewtgkA/s1600/IMG_1629.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi_cee9sS9-5o7yR8ggLs-37wyJ-JU5gQyU4deM1k_egizMML_v26xzeXOqhah9JLIrf7_KIybPtIpxosYarwugSmKM41GoAi1xMoCTBFusFkJcDAFLQtPu381wGiKBnSPDewtgkA/s320/IMG_1629.JPG" height="240" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Miss Ashcraft is a great teacher for Ellie, too. Ellie is especially thriving socially being at school all day. </td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEififKxZ1RpKlP_SztCk_1lCrRZmlJpW66DkKBZ4atulOD6cHmzaF9METZoji3V4gP9J7i8GyVxy8PzhRSvWCWvuNuvTsMWJUn4reu-5hsaEId1mOFIkaSAJ0IUsFBe76p86KOPVg/s1600/IMG_1633.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEififKxZ1RpKlP_SztCk_1lCrRZmlJpW66DkKBZ4atulOD6cHmzaF9METZoji3V4gP9J7i8GyVxy8PzhRSvWCWvuNuvTsMWJUn4reu-5hsaEId1mOFIkaSAJ0IUsFBe76p86KOPVg/s320/IMG_1633.JPG" height="320" width="240" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">This leaves Charlie a whole lot more attention from Mom at home. Our first couple of months here, he behaved remarkably well. Really stunningly agreeable. Of course, once the novelty wore off he reverted back to his old fiendish ways. The same pattern recently elapsed during Grandma's visit here. He went full days without yelling, hitting/squashing Amelia, fighting, disobeying, destroying, etc. Okay maybe just hours, but still! The kid is coming around. I can tell he's maturing. In many ways he is pleasant and delightful. And I think he'll always be a kid who loves to push buttons, test limits, resist authority, and do things his own way regardless of rules or expectations. As I'm accepting this long-term reality, we're making progress. I'm making progress. Charlie's raising me as I raise him.</td></tr>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">October weather was beautiful and perfect for a car wash. We looooved experiencing fall here. We'd been missing that season.</td></tr>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">After I convinced Charlie that thrift stores are treasure stores, and before Ming could walk, we three familiarized ourselves with this town via thrift store routes, oh and very much garage sales while they were in season. We were shopping for several furniture items, but I also tend to completely redo household decor every time I move.<br />
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This time I decided to stop suppressing and just embrace my eclectic leanings. Basically, I love every color (except tan or black), every style, and every era, so I put it all up there and bam! Design magic. I decided I love the charm of vintage items, too. Someday I'll finish filling frames around this pad and take some photos. </td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi9dugOI5PzzCLxJhgmsOItxD_afWAy1zx2Ldjasno4O4mg4bB052TvwqJoJBiVUxn-YlpONeZ9Q0JHRRQzdoJJRAVI-qQeput7y3U6-NTJW30sKtZSuZrDrQJBcMrWdHYdEZO4qg/s1600/IMG_1674.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi9dugOI5PzzCLxJhgmsOItxD_afWAy1zx2Ldjasno4O4mg4bB052TvwqJoJBiVUxn-YlpONeZ9Q0JHRRQzdoJJRAVI-qQeput7y3U6-NTJW30sKtZSuZrDrQJBcMrWdHYdEZO4qg/s320/IMG_1674.JPG" height="240" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Not sure why I felt like anyone would care what I found at thrift stores, but it was probably because I was going to brag about how little I spent on all this. </td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgK_1nt6n0w6St9GjeG_ZvkSrL8_2nycEFciwbLfVovFuTc9GJ7zb9DOsG4OYAKhXRSNkz6CgRCQOoNEI4tiF3K5FMJge4WKdSuFJ0l6YpDNmZpeh5NVlFvtoD4X8JD3yn_x4KRBw/s1600/IMG_1684.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgK_1nt6n0w6St9GjeG_ZvkSrL8_2nycEFciwbLfVovFuTc9GJ7zb9DOsG4OYAKhXRSNkz6CgRCQOoNEI4tiF3K5FMJge4WKdSuFJ0l6YpDNmZpeh5NVlFvtoD4X8JD3yn_x4KRBw/s320/IMG_1684.JPG" height="240" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Talk-like-a-pirate day landed us at a local pirate-themed playground with church peeps and then to Krispy Kreme, where all six of us looked ridiculous (too bad I lost that pic) and said something like "Arrrr! Ahoy shiver me donuts, matey!" and walked out of there with 24 free donuts. We woulda done it for five. Now that's a good feeling. </td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg_yjxEz_NddU3isqb2bZw2i8adhNnRztAbhchmR-cEonuLYXvyjhQyqqPCnxDIjRQMBc29pxv8ltS_zOlH_PJEdWEY_0h8emrui4RTp96TZqXetFQP3TjCxb-alPvA-a0oZWEOWQ/s1600/IMG_1692.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg_yjxEz_NddU3isqb2bZw2i8adhNnRztAbhchmR-cEonuLYXvyjhQyqqPCnxDIjRQMBc29pxv8ltS_zOlH_PJEdWEY_0h8emrui4RTp96TZqXetFQP3TjCxb-alPvA-a0oZWEOWQ/s320/IMG_1692.JPG" height="240" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">The zoo here is perfect. Just the right size, just the right price, and no one else seems to think so as each visit we've mostly had the zoo to ourselves. </td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjEsEE_pUkLtlRiKjt8Xa5w0f2Es1ABzhAFPuwIdUg8gtcPYgK_BVAvpQhLw5Bpfhvhoq4gjVGmxGLyjCLSVSCHPf45EiyVjT2pdeRcX_vlnB-OOypw3oLYH9VLVrJKenHww1xm-A/s1600/IMG_1693.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjEsEE_pUkLtlRiKjt8Xa5w0f2Es1ABzhAFPuwIdUg8gtcPYgK_BVAvpQhLw5Bpfhvhoq4gjVGmxGLyjCLSVSCHPf45EiyVjT2pdeRcX_vlnB-OOypw3oLYH9VLVrJKenHww1xm-A/s320/IMG_1693.JPG" height="240" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Terra and Isabelle were so thoughtful to invite us on lots of outings when we first moved here. Jason works at Hertz with Kyle and all our kids get along swimmingly. We kind of think they're awesome. Charlie and Isabelle especially click well and relate in quirky ways. Namely, they both love hoarding random objects around the house and shoving them in containers to bring along and share on outings. </td></tr>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Feeding lorikeets was great entertainment. Those are not dull claws so I was proud of Charlie was being brave enough to try it. He looks subdued enough here, but I don't think he'd try it again!</td></tr>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Dress-like-Andy-Bernard Day for church! Don't tell me you don't celebrate that holiday!</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhNS4bSyLDq4EWyVaBLlxCPvSc_Z_aH6zzQRviJt-iToqn6arH3KDlkEhQ0-6KY0h7kGwR3RpvfdM2zswehgrGmDUZEe9FmzwLuzGj7vyxK9kvExZ7lOYGaBbEPGZO6_UWJG5htdQ/s1600/IMG_1713.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhNS4bSyLDq4EWyVaBLlxCPvSc_Z_aH6zzQRviJt-iToqn6arH3KDlkEhQ0-6KY0h7kGwR3RpvfdM2zswehgrGmDUZEe9FmzwLuzGj7vyxK9kvExZ7lOYGaBbEPGZO6_UWJG5htdQ/s320/IMG_1713.JPG" height="240" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Ellie was star student the week of her birthday so I got to bring in cupcakes to share with the class. At least here they allow homemade goodies. In Arizona treats had to be identical and individually packaged. Yay birthday granola bars. Anyway, her teacher doesn't welcome parent volunteers so I'm happy for even a brief opportunity to visit her class. </td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhcax8AmOBGSCQuZ_r4UtXXfjdrqIkaEyxM0ah6sTCXewYowhmh-08ehu4Fg-kGd-cl64KEgc3VQ75N-qdbqOvBuXVZHazJ5mFwEMKhhVs7WoCREzO12cIynwZu-nOP_RU8WBqhWA/s1600/IMG_1716.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhcax8AmOBGSCQuZ_r4UtXXfjdrqIkaEyxM0ah6sTCXewYowhmh-08ehu4Fg-kGd-cl64KEgc3VQ75N-qdbqOvBuXVZHazJ5mFwEMKhhVs7WoCREzO12cIynwZu-nOP_RU8WBqhWA/s320/IMG_1716.JPG" height="240" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">When I finally decided Ming was old enough to be awake while we play with legos, she was so thrilled she wanted to become one with them and hopped right in the bin.</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgTpQrqlIoFjVZ0aKwTY0iTpbOqAZnCtHr_r8W6mrfTLjAq5DeYMpN6JY4e9pJWJDCT7Y5q-EysBe-oQMN7-84oZ7z0YY1wO5frxmOhngcdwB0JEWSx18XYmzAth5BrydE6_zzlTA/s1600/IMG_1719.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgTpQrqlIoFjVZ0aKwTY0iTpbOqAZnCtHr_r8W6mrfTLjAq5DeYMpN6JY4e9pJWJDCT7Y5q-EysBe-oQMN7-84oZ7z0YY1wO5frxmOhngcdwB0JEWSx18XYmzAth5BrydE6_zzlTA/s320/IMG_1719.JPG" height="240" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Perhaps you can't tell from that goofy expression, but this birthday gift from Kyle's parents was perfect. It was a sew-your-own-penguin kit, though the penguin's name is Erik (from the Happy Feet movies) so our Erik took the liberty of penguin-napping him. He's taken permanent residence on Erik's bed ever since.</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjQXVql6rOoagWUgyp1p8zWyDdvL073tedC5mxMWBTYBl1Maf8RnX_1AcDIYw04pxqECxtTGFov62hmhQuYQnZb_pPgNwqXljZhCjwsFZwaik3B1ILegTK7_zzthB7u0zY7ldrEtg/s1600/IMG_1724.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjQXVql6rOoagWUgyp1p8zWyDdvL073tedC5mxMWBTYBl1Maf8RnX_1AcDIYw04pxqECxtTGFov62hmhQuYQnZb_pPgNwqXljZhCjwsFZwaik3B1ILegTK7_zzthB7u0zY7ldrEtg/s320/IMG_1724.JPG" height="240" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">For her birthday, Ellie just really wanted to have her ears pierced. She doesn't ask for very many things, but she wanted this so so badly. Finally I convinced Kyle so her birthday gift was a trip to the mall and a couple puncture wounds.</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjMt_SMWDtfldzdtuAHjJYOyt5fCQlkNFYb8hPiJEh3wmveEADsdqKbAYCikyVXvq0QRHBZFwpnkgRDrEyvXajKVfhelU8PF4Wk7eiFmmjgFPw6hEQ5dDMYyZax-yArViQkbB4lxg/s1600/IMG_1730.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjMt_SMWDtfldzdtuAHjJYOyt5fCQlkNFYb8hPiJEh3wmveEADsdqKbAYCikyVXvq0QRHBZFwpnkgRDrEyvXajKVfhelU8PF4Wk7eiFmmjgFPw6hEQ5dDMYyZax-yArViQkbB4lxg/s320/IMG_1730.JPG" height="240" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">For a kid who hyperventilates and has to leave the building when Amelia is getting shots, Ellie did remarkably well. </td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjU8qM6TRy5uRFwf97n_OEaGEleEZ1tMLTuPWbp7wI80KiAJ5wIlB7I3uDoRZSgXPZVz60a2Jyl3qAm5Mlr0F_4sCPalGX3OnSYcedyAj7qVLAa2Jzlee4jA3l39pedNPlF8rUdkw/s1600/IMG_1733.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjU8qM6TRy5uRFwf97n_OEaGEleEZ1tMLTuPWbp7wI80KiAJ5wIlB7I3uDoRZSgXPZVz60a2Jyl3qAm5Mlr0F_4sCPalGX3OnSYcedyAj7qVLAa2Jzlee4jA3l39pedNPlF8rUdkw/s320/IMG_1733.JPG" height="240" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">What a brave little toaster.</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi2M83mGfh8og2XMEKu82fQUbX3Ie2-cpORddtPrxjnoExhLAo26h78ltjaJ8TKI8cnhiiheebPOLzogohnBbDMcyLVERtyjOqgxGpiHRjP0LIQ8w1gTOta5-LQUgPnl4CWXQKZcA/s1600/IMG_1736.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi2M83mGfh8og2XMEKu82fQUbX3Ie2-cpORddtPrxjnoExhLAo26h78ltjaJ8TKI8cnhiiheebPOLzogohnBbDMcyLVERtyjOqgxGpiHRjP0LIQ8w1gTOta5-LQUgPnl4CWXQKZcA/s320/IMG_1736.JPG" height="240" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Here's more shots from the zoo. Every once in a while Ellie and Erik get to have some fun, too. I struggled with their loss of unstructured play time when they started all-day school. I'm still adjusting. I love taking Charlie and Amelia to museums and such, but while we're there I can't help thinking of how much the older kids would enjoy and benefit from being there, too. </td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjZop_TZBd_oCQIToYImGvJxMejNt4T-_q68Uofo6BKN84Z55NmeXuN7MPj6B8VNySLtkv02ERVy8n1TdFBiWdOvMX3sregRA7Vx5-JkSSkAaXql-kyPlY_Q0x3mjMZhLNJrEbTqQ/s1600/IMG_1738.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjZop_TZBd_oCQIToYImGvJxMejNt4T-_q68Uofo6BKN84Z55NmeXuN7MPj6B8VNySLtkv02ERVy8n1TdFBiWdOvMX3sregRA7Vx5-JkSSkAaXql-kyPlY_Q0x3mjMZhLNJrEbTqQ/s320/IMG_1738.JPG" height="240" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Ellie chose a penguin theme for her party, and thanks to extreme commercialism, Christmas penguin products were already on the loose at walmart and ready to be made into party favors!</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjGDVjDhlQzfaJ_6qS2GZ03EWyUvORKaQARZvLt3EAlk5RkSSSqaHkSDQbskiUjI8Ua-CvIt0q79Kn6tvbancPzwPlu5slUvA4Arkt1zU_7oxj0FfKdXWexfYp-gV7MFrgKWHqE5w/s1600/IMG_1740.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjGDVjDhlQzfaJ_6qS2GZ03EWyUvORKaQARZvLt3EAlk5RkSSSqaHkSDQbskiUjI8Ua-CvIt0q79Kn6tvbancPzwPlu5slUvA4Arkt1zU_7oxj0FfKdXWexfYp-gV7MFrgKWHqE5w/s320/IMG_1740.JPG" height="240" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">This brrrrthday spread was brought to you by Kjerstin-was-in-town. You didn't think I could pull off a party by myself, did ya?</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhyMMbsgBAoDIPStQ9SeGd_TVoKwc4ol0Gi5w_hzHMbQS8CY74z0Mng10Nh9TUnhSzjS6qr_QkAW617kVqPHImVfpilFR_hoiX2pow6iyb8qItiEukJbGow8xxD7AGAZVnOsj3LZQ/s1600/IMG_1741.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhyMMbsgBAoDIPStQ9SeGd_TVoKwc4ol0Gi5w_hzHMbQS8CY74z0Mng10Nh9TUnhSzjS6qr_QkAW617kVqPHImVfpilFR_hoiX2pow6iyb8qItiEukJbGow8xxD7AGAZVnOsj3LZQ/s320/IMG_1741.JPG" height="240" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Ellie agreed to my color scheme of turquoisey-blues and corals, which just happens to be the color scheme of the Target kitchenware line I'd been eyeing all summer that finally went on 70% off clearance and landed in my hot little shopping cart.</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiNOKwM7nZcF-yPRykQ2UIIT_lGlE21zmSkMSEp2SAqkTrkwQ1cwpj5LfirlLlbou2Z2oiK2D4O9l_w6VTgD0f3njG6B4UXukKFTsZB80JHchPb1WZuYEPCqYMGdtn-P-bYwqIQ2A/s1600/IMG_1743.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiNOKwM7nZcF-yPRykQ2UIIT_lGlE21zmSkMSEp2SAqkTrkwQ1cwpj5LfirlLlbou2Z2oiK2D4O9l_w6VTgD0f3njG6B4UXukKFTsZB80JHchPb1WZuYEPCqYMGdtn-P-bYwqIQ2A/s320/IMG_1743.JPG" height="240" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">We had adorable olive penguins, fishies, ice bergs/marshmallows,</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhw-KLmGZIoU0dXlFeUJ0c6KNeSVpOAOjBcOh30sQOReA7_fS7E1gRHjiOtFcjr8zImYhm2leg5w12nE2h35Q9TMZekiL5bNTy9cLW_o1q2AJAhbpIv_xY0-rguR-goimwL1uyj7A/s1600/IMG_1744.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhw-KLmGZIoU0dXlFeUJ0c6KNeSVpOAOjBcOh30sQOReA7_fS7E1gRHjiOtFcjr8zImYhm2leg5w12nE2h35Q9TMZekiL5bNTy9cLW_o1q2AJAhbpIv_xY0-rguR-goimwL1uyj7A/s320/IMG_1744.JPG" height="320" width="240" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">an igloo cheese ball,</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgxAEwvC6JYOo1pvgwoeOtvnQ-zBOYE8kOE0YTTK7Xqtb9qruD-0KW5lmszTRlTJOKg5CLKUFILdm2eEgevfrRH8cYXYnBKTLgEV8hgFzfSOYZqwJLZSfDG1iDH1a6M5HhqJg6xdg/s1600/IMG_1745.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgxAEwvC6JYOo1pvgwoeOtvnQ-zBOYE8kOE0YTTK7Xqtb9qruD-0KW5lmszTRlTJOKg5CLKUFILdm2eEgevfrRH8cYXYnBKTLgEV8hgFzfSOYZqwJLZSfDG1iDH1a6M5HhqJg6xdg/s320/IMG_1745.JPG" height="240" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Milano penguin cookies, an igloo cake,</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEimoIGEH4a6NrTua-4v4AsJMjo40ahg8v9hsLpWcQCHYUpSRQO3MdN-j6zSjoWVr6Qng1B2gtr_mn2SNGriyIseeZhCZHDl3IU2DAsvf8rpZwEHgePYWTd62m6W748sye83mRORjw/s1600/IMG_1746.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEimoIGEH4a6NrTua-4v4AsJMjo40ahg8v9hsLpWcQCHYUpSRQO3MdN-j6zSjoWVr6Qng1B2gtr_mn2SNGriyIseeZhCZHDl3IU2DAsvf8rpZwEHgePYWTd62m6W748sye83mRORjw/s320/IMG_1746.JPG" height="240" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">tuna fish sandwiches,</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiDhl20DKGsHFMuMBgOWReNvOfW9BGAIWWT2SjT-aqLvOazAye2jUYvFQ9p988mnoPoMf0bSebdagYQ2m7Sl8cDjqO6Qypt-y1aIio69PtYYkUKlqLH7UjowPbmfHThWH6917qfDg/s1600/IMG_1747.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiDhl20DKGsHFMuMBgOWReNvOfW9BGAIWWT2SjT-aqLvOazAye2jUYvFQ9p988mnoPoMf0bSebdagYQ2m7Sl8cDjqO6Qypt-y1aIio69PtYYkUKlqLH7UjowPbmfHThWH6917qfDg/s320/IMG_1747.JPG" height="240" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">and one ecstatic birthday girl!</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgwaHvBjv4YqgKeDueKI2HyBoocd0-eldR7pRJXnHhAUBDM14xVCHl4lTR29GxFBdGpP3T8WqJsiLTZW9EMTb-ewpHD2IzVj4H1YZAxxe1frFfuQ4NFmo5NznDh0E_SNJMaGfG38Q/s1600/IMG_1752.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgwaHvBjv4YqgKeDueKI2HyBoocd0-eldR7pRJXnHhAUBDM14xVCHl4lTR29GxFBdGpP3T8WqJsiLTZW9EMTb-ewpHD2IzVj4H1YZAxxe1frFfuQ4NFmo5NznDh0E_SNJMaGfG38Q/s320/IMG_1752.JPG" height="240" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">And five mostly pretend penguins.</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgG1hxh8NhHRVN6SBUC-KltVEe_IrwFHCba7aaMHB9oLTeUtOAssZ_P6WMKKLU2HuLhDat6WuBdRPYLYJ-7kWk5J4nd7IjFEglcRKaG5nQPfp6S15EydCSVGnonoAnh6w-QfIfwXQ/s1600/IMG_1754.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgG1hxh8NhHRVN6SBUC-KltVEe_IrwFHCba7aaMHB9oLTeUtOAssZ_P6WMKKLU2HuLhDat6WuBdRPYLYJ-7kWk5J4nd7IjFEglcRKaG5nQPfp6S15EydCSVGnonoAnh6w-QfIfwXQ/s320/IMG_1754.JPG" height="240" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Ellie had seven or eight friends over for some riotous fun, which was all captured on video. It was a wet day so we held it all indoors, but nothing broke (had some close calls with our ear drums) and the kids were so much fun. I love this age.</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgPQDQnuPmODsoYZQXq9PmF9jWknCGSrXi-nuWwQ_L8oSWCoF6B8_JEvlNkO-u7ZQW5NMSQvbYjb7wDy4MlThZwjezInbj7-VsmXfQU1O8X0YEDIRJXQwOSrQQOAF70hWno-574Wg/s1600/IMG_1755.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgPQDQnuPmODsoYZQXq9PmF9jWknCGSrXi-nuWwQ_L8oSWCoF6B8_JEvlNkO-u7ZQW5NMSQvbYjb7wDy4MlThZwjezInbj7-VsmXfQU1O8X0YEDIRJXQwOSrQQOAF70hWno-574Wg/s320/IMG_1755.JPG" height="240" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">My favorite moment was when we were ready to start the Papa penguin relay (teams keep their baby penguin safe from the freezing floor and hungry polar bears as they race around the room) but we couldn't find our polar bear, which was Kyle. Checked the bathrooms, garage... and finally he came out growling all dressed up in bear claws and anything white and furry he could find in the kids' closet. The kids all shrieked (me, too!) and some were actually frightened, I think. I love how spontaneous Kyle is, and just plain fun.</td></tr>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Ming splashed to her heart's content after the party, which led me to believe that she's faking her water phobia every time I fill up the bath...</td></tr>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Family fun night at the kids' school was super hero themed, and thanks to Aunt Tana, we've got capes covered for the whole fameroo! And yes Erik's favorite super hero is a ninja turtle.</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhTOf8BZ_5rWXdkUeoHUDY9NKob-s-16FkYZKdHrde18fYfz1iupOQyg_ogr8vqaDBH7rt4iFM_ZQMiH5XUjag73cPnvbm8YTSHnADmh7Qmzw1VbYIfjlhB2k3XsXFjoEsY7RWR6A/s1600/IMG_1774.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhTOf8BZ_5rWXdkUeoHUDY9NKob-s-16FkYZKdHrde18fYfz1iupOQyg_ogr8vqaDBH7rt4iFM_ZQMiH5XUjag73cPnvbm8YTSHnADmh7Qmzw1VbYIfjlhB2k3XsXFjoEsY7RWR6A/s320/IMG_1774.JPG" height="240" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">We heard that a friend of a friend in Utah asks families to fundraise for medical treatments for their daughter, Maggie, who has cerebral palsy, every September. With the move and all, we were a little behind, but the kids rallied one warm October Saturday morning to host our own little garage sale. Now mind you, we got rid of lots of stuff right before we moved. So we didn't really have big items to sell. Still, we hoped and prayed and planted those charming little faces at the concession stand and... despite a very slow flow of traffic... </td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjpQU31cqyF0fAJa9vM7N-TBNSpB4plFZWqQrcXpYmIGBPO1Hu9phF1kWTjOGG1Fbq6jahkl2dOg7jCbxQ2hYaT6Bv9MZFEFMBZBooYi7sBip9xuEJMNe0dHeOOLTOrM9f9wNdDsA/s1600/IMG_1775.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjpQU31cqyF0fAJa9vM7N-TBNSpB4plFZWqQrcXpYmIGBPO1Hu9phF1kWTjOGG1Fbq6jahkl2dOg7jCbxQ2hYaT6Bv9MZFEFMBZBooYi7sBip9xuEJMNe0dHeOOLTOrM9f9wNdDsA/s320/IMG_1775.JPG" height="240" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">we made almost exactly $150 to send to Maggie, which was our goal! I still don't really know how some broken frames and stained clothes earned us that much. Okay, we did scrounge up some decent items, but not terribly much. I'm convinced it was divine intervention rewarding my kids for having such big hearts. They loved being involved in the prep and execution of this sale. They still talk about it, and about Maggie, with fondness. Just the other day Erik expressed interest in having another sale for Maggie when the weather warms up.</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjf8LjAoklQiNlyztYHrLum33ndXGcXDvIx0oofcLwxsTcaO0mGLBa4lZA3zY66TKknfbrY1HQoEGlbq0yuLXcqUJk4mPi0IVxjjwL7lsSZ2HCEd2QZ872Xman_9bOUvt5vUWGyVw/s1600/IMG_1780.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjf8LjAoklQiNlyztYHrLum33ndXGcXDvIx0oofcLwxsTcaO0mGLBa4lZA3zY66TKknfbrY1HQoEGlbq0yuLXcqUJk4mPi0IVxjjwL7lsSZ2HCEd2QZ872Xman_9bOUvt5vUWGyVw/s320/IMG_1780.JPG" height="240" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">"Happy Halloween!", taunted an ugly arachnid at our front door. Shudder. Spiders are the worst part of my experience in Oklahoma. Even after our house blows away in a tornado I will still vote that spiders are the worst.</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh6HSwnFhTy5QRT56Ut5ybfH2L185a5LuC8UMpSXoFaZBIMWyGAEjdKRLkXo86uHaDdVAYsBlcpAgPTHA1EJOihNfNvAGerGCloWDK17oX9puZTGSitsFVq60x1OoBMai7Cd9KV_g/s1600/IMG_1789.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh6HSwnFhTy5QRT56Ut5ybfH2L185a5LuC8UMpSXoFaZBIMWyGAEjdKRLkXo86uHaDdVAYsBlcpAgPTHA1EJOihNfNvAGerGCloWDK17oX9puZTGSitsFVq60x1OoBMai7Cd9KV_g/s320/IMG_1789.JPG" height="320" width="240" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">There. Much better. What says Happy Halloween better than homemade braces and a creepy mustache?</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhXyI7vV1sMXqeV0zyAHnt_2hqYQurtjdYvwTRqcn9w9D8RDurHEZnZup5RRh1dSBuqSl26kV2-n9u_CcFFznuVvcADBUPWL0hEay__4cshNz_ihhNLdzM0XDB4VY_Gm98IHkpyHg/s1600/IMG_1790.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhXyI7vV1sMXqeV0zyAHnt_2hqYQurtjdYvwTRqcn9w9D8RDurHEZnZup5RRh1dSBuqSl26kV2-n9u_CcFFznuVvcADBUPWL0hEay__4cshNz_ihhNLdzM0XDB4VY_Gm98IHkpyHg/s320/IMG_1790.JPG" height="320" width="240" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">I wish I would've found darker make-up for my role, but in the dim lighting of the cultural hall dance floor at church, I probably achieved the right hue. I definitely looked out of Kyle's league, which is what counts.</td></tr>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg7-KyuxCz2bGUcnc-DRbSD7DCfCgGUegA1MRW7HFGtg3BJfiXpY49ehrZ3ErVVjdx1hiA19FMxhmGZjnadoKJ-kMmD3QiA7TDRO1upMCGC2VkB1Nk9mdMRHQdKrGor_WT26aw2lQ/s1600/IMG_1796.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg7-KyuxCz2bGUcnc-DRbSD7DCfCgGUegA1MRW7HFGtg3BJfiXpY49ehrZ3ErVVjdx1hiA19FMxhmGZjnadoKJ-kMmD3QiA7TDRO1upMCGC2VkB1Nk9mdMRHQdKrGor_WT26aw2lQ/s320/IMG_1796.JPG" height="320" width="240" /></a></div>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjqJSIjLhdEBu4CaTldYpoqyUZSksw2k17fl0Xdc2zE00wShehsuYC0eBeQPXPm6n2m6yTICrvfjohowidkglqk1muDCFYBtna3nwxIY5Ad2MngWEG1ACLl-xEbq2mwnJHfPM3lSg/s1600/IMG_1797.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjqJSIjLhdEBu4CaTldYpoqyUZSksw2k17fl0Xdc2zE00wShehsuYC0eBeQPXPm6n2m6yTICrvfjohowidkglqk1muDCFYBtna3nwxIY5Ad2MngWEG1ACLl-xEbq2mwnJHfPM3lSg/s320/IMG_1797.JPG" height="240" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">As of October 30th, the kids were going to be for Halloween the following: a witch, a ninja turtle, a knight, and a unicorn. </td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiNOOJGj5LagTSbm491VV_1tirsHsY7teDkX-603my-mZMRXH8yaPZ2JDPW_a8C76oYjYRbwotdK3GhRhc0ZeLQYCC7bbiK3qhJlVVKVi24nqnTSFXg4i-r4lpWEbQRzFHeP8iJDg/s1600/IMG_1798.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiNOOJGj5LagTSbm491VV_1tirsHsY7teDkX-603my-mZMRXH8yaPZ2JDPW_a8C76oYjYRbwotdK3GhRhc0ZeLQYCC7bbiK3qhJlVVKVi24nqnTSFXg4i-r4lpWEbQRzFHeP8iJDg/s320/IMG_1798.JPG" height="240" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Then Erik decided he absolutely positively had to be a vampire instead, so I spent the day hunting every Halloween store in the county for a suitable cape, and found nothing but disturbing masks and gory props that will give my kids nightmares forever. Seriously, what the heck, Halloween. You are so gross.</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhZpQrVZW0wBpZEF59qcSVdBhu_XdPNBNem5ONJh29RZZJvF455_y55rIxYNMncCrrzye-oL_PjVuncpd0alln7uI4crBZMKpqZZg1k3SkeyTxxrjI5t2gKmPprF2dwWceXa05Qog/s1600/IMG_1799.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhZpQrVZW0wBpZEF59qcSVdBhu_XdPNBNem5ONJh29RZZJvF455_y55rIxYNMncCrrzye-oL_PjVuncpd0alln7uI4crBZMKpqZZg1k3SkeyTxxrjI5t2gKmPprF2dwWceXa05Qog/s320/IMG_1799.JPG" height="240" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Finally while the littles, bless their hearts, overlapped their naps for once, I figured out that I know how to sew, and I improvised. Charlie opted for the turtle costume now that Erik forsook it, even though he'd been thoroughly committed to his knight costume. I think the mistake I made was buying his costume three weeks before Halloween. He'd already been wearing it around town for weeks and was ready to move on to a new persona come holiday time. So ninja turtle it was, though we forgot to put on the shell and belt Kyle had crafted. Ellie couldn't find her witch hat so she became a ballerina. And that's the story of how I managed to make my children presentable for massive candy accumulation. </td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjwc2QwzKRLQnA6RbqtfXAvPn1Cte-iP42Z8f0bjMcs0j5rSqwNscb_SGa7CADt9DJHsp47KzJnAby6hXjhOQ7-uQAJtcRh2YiMqGZQ4T-ZVSSf3UmbTX8Uuq0OBm2fo6yjK0g-uA/s1600/IMG_1800.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjwc2QwzKRLQnA6RbqtfXAvPn1Cte-iP42Z8f0bjMcs0j5rSqwNscb_SGa7CADt9DJHsp47KzJnAby6hXjhOQ7-uQAJtcRh2YiMqGZQ4T-ZVSSf3UmbTX8Uuq0OBm2fo6yjK0g-uA/s320/IMG_1800.JPG" height="240" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">And cans! We also trick-or-treated for canned goods that we donated to the food bank. Ellie helped me make and distribute a flyer to neighbors and we picked up the donations while we trekked for treats. She's such a stalwart, seriously. We also got to enjoy dinner and trick-or-treating with some friends from church. Spooktacular! <br />
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Really? I must be tired. Signing off! I didn't take any pictures of Thanksgiving in Minnesota or Christmas in Arizona and California or anything that's happened since, but I'm pretty sure it all still did happen (hard to prove sans pictorial evidence) so that might be coming up next post. </td></tr>
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<br />Kylehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09922094009020156052noreply@blogger.com7tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-37155978.post-28957201808271093372013-01-28T22:27:00.003-08:002013-01-28T22:27:53.577-08:00Or shaped like a blogg or a garden hose<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
Guys, I miss blogging. Not that I even enjoy writing or have a knack for it and my photography (lack of) skills hardly deserve a guffaw, but still. Probably it's just guilt then. Guilt or this nagging fear that if I don't blog, after the six of us die there will be no evidence that we ever did anything with our lives. Also, someday after all of my children are grown and finally leave me, I fully intend to blurp all of this nonsense (isn't that what it's called?) into indestructible hard-cover novels. I guess that's due to aforementioned fear of obscurity. </div>
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Several times I've pulled up blogger and even uploaded some photos. I get stuck about there. With eight plus months of unblogged happenings, the big O settles in (that would be overwhelmment, which is a word), and shortly thereafter we're watching Office reruns again and my heart does a little frowny face. </div>
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Here comes my pep talk to myself. All I can say is that Done is Better Than Perfect. I think I'm finally giving up on creating a comprehensive record of our lives here. Um, I actually never did anyway, so what's the big deal? So, sorry you missed out on Ellie 6th birthday party, but you'll get to see her 7th. (Next post!) And maybe I only took one picture on our three-week vacation with beloved family and friends. But look! Here's half of the hedgehogs we made last week. Aren't forest animals the cutest these days? </div>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjKnklqWpCpWu5Qwty-_82GYfY_0fVBtAYlwSvtQc87Mbk6Osc9QTWcoga-CSfDA25N3jDvSCvY2DT9WtRSqVWpdk0AN0UCI5wwEwZeFBKTL5P86DehWPqmjXTiiU7RK10BMVgwjA/s1600/IMG_1986.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjKnklqWpCpWu5Qwty-_82GYfY_0fVBtAYlwSvtQc87Mbk6Osc9QTWcoga-CSfDA25N3jDvSCvY2DT9WtRSqVWpdk0AN0UCI5wwEwZeFBKTL5P86DehWPqmjXTiiU7RK10BMVgwjA/s320/IMG_1986.JPG" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Our Craft Hope group here in Oklahoma made these and four other just like 'em to send to kids who survived Hurricane Sandy. I was thrilled to use up eight rectangular pieces of unbelievably soft, furry material I bought for Ellie's 3rd birthday for a monkey activity. See, sometimes hoarding pays! Anyway, the day of the activity one of the peeps on the email list wrote me a note saying Charitable agencies have received millions of stuffed animals, so many that they have no idea who to give them all to. Super. We made them anyway! Some of the limbs turned out really gimpy so maybe we'll find some injured kids at the hospital who'll appreciate them more. Or Ming. She's pretty much obsessed with every last stuffy in the land.</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiCRsyosfrm6LggRMXhd8n6R9H1KkZNOInKijzgEMdSFo-epXNawxrziybjTA0Z_X-BxV4nl1BJArxm6PWfwbPc7Wc6kpBAuajypv4Wr3GNw8vODJ0OIMS_qVxgS81s5c_JH2jyVw/s1600/IMG_1874.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiCRsyosfrm6LggRMXhd8n6R9H1KkZNOInKijzgEMdSFo-epXNawxrziybjTA0Z_X-BxV4nl1BJArxm6PWfwbPc7Wc6kpBAuajypv4Wr3GNw8vODJ0OIMS_qVxgS81s5c_JH2jyVw/s320/IMG_1874.JPG" width="240" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Kjerstin saved the day (and the Christmas season, for that matter!) with a mid-December visit. She seriously saved my heine because I was wigging out with all the Christmas chaos and I needed her to pull all of it off. She arrived with strep and left the day after heaving her guts out, and still managed to save Christmas, Oklahoma edition. Yay! Everybody should have a Kjerstin!</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiIcyMGCLXvaomro0NPp6k8ukzEdJ6AQjrQCTVkV2HT_mueHjcycfCWZIs1lzLoAmC9pS5ZPfyH0uuGoSPhHAb2GAiyRZ_6av9OoXeTInvReUpuiK7wqdTK_V5_x5tIsn2illZLQQ/s1600/IMG_1867.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiIcyMGCLXvaomro0NPp6k8ukzEdJ6AQjrQCTVkV2HT_mueHjcycfCWZIs1lzLoAmC9pS5ZPfyH0uuGoSPhHAb2GAiyRZ_6av9OoXeTInvReUpuiK7wqdTK_V5_x5tIsn2illZLQQ/s320/IMG_1867.JPG" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">My cousin Jeff and his wife Sukyoung live a couple hours away in Texas so while Uncle Paul was visiting we lured them to us with second-rate dim sum (actually I'm not Chinese enough to be discriminating-- quite liked it) and free holiday festivities. Such a great fam! And I hadn't seen Jeff for 13 years and actually this was my first time talking to him ever, so yeah. Pretty good stuff. We loved our visit with them.</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjIbGGmbNhVILBL3VX0Hmawct-PGJpEylOKgIdrQUBaV3iXUoOHyyMKSAaJHluGbDoUo-I3fJe0wYttoddoFvHlN89d1OEbWvVyBHOqvMfoEDsjtHqSCP63x9JgkQp2kGDCElHUiQ/s1600/IMG_1877.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjIbGGmbNhVILBL3VX0Hmawct-PGJpEylOKgIdrQUBaV3iXUoOHyyMKSAaJHluGbDoUo-I3fJe0wYttoddoFvHlN89d1OEbWvVyBHOqvMfoEDsjtHqSCP63x9JgkQp2kGDCElHUiQ/s320/IMG_1877.JPG" width="240" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Charlie's been dressing himself since he was about 18 months old. I've long given up on intervening. Sometimes he wears superheroes capes and suspenders. Other times a tutu (no it's a tool belt, Mom!) and a lizard mask. He wore a sweater and swim trunks to Target recently and I got a lot of hard glares for that move, given the wind chill. What can I do? That's right, absolutely nothing. I try to dress Ming and myself cute when we go out so we don't all look like white trash storybook characters. I think I took this photo because this was one of his better ensembles. Monochromatic, at least. He was so pleased to chance upon a fire hydrant to accessorize his look.</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgZNLoerpdk0AOqic5slS2rThMBmllHLO5iepiDcsXnSLdkBSONpf5kUyR9HjdQZ5qyQoehyQquAuoYCJoPgeYr6rjjJ0mUOg097b7Zet7Jieqt_JKiNyn3ljlp7h2D1q5OMPLBEQ/s1600/IMG_1880.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgZNLoerpdk0AOqic5slS2rThMBmllHLO5iepiDcsXnSLdkBSONpf5kUyR9HjdQZ5qyQoehyQquAuoYCJoPgeYr6rjjJ0mUOg097b7Zet7Jieqt_JKiNyn3ljlp7h2D1q5OMPLBEQ/s320/IMG_1880.JPG" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Apparently pulling the camera out threw them off so just take my word for it that seven kids hunched over a single popcorn bowl shoveling into their faces at top speed was pretty darn funny. </td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiDDA4r145oA8NXayypzrh2fAUMivx7jviCg7zrME9mPQHgy0yLwD5cF18fXQ36OMuX073RykWZG7RORDSbkDyy_fbjBitdurIbHtNlkcwBWbAgVMbBj10hc_zmkT2RGSb3p-LU0g/s1600/IMG_1894.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiDDA4r145oA8NXayypzrh2fAUMivx7jviCg7zrME9mPQHgy0yLwD5cF18fXQ36OMuX073RykWZG7RORDSbkDyy_fbjBitdurIbHtNlkcwBWbAgVMbBj10hc_zmkT2RGSb3p-LU0g/s320/IMG_1894.JPG" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Haha, I really was thorough in my uploading. I didn't weed too many photos out from the past month. These were part of a series of love notes we used to make calendars for the Gramps' and Grans for Christmas. </td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhOGqFkhZaT_KWt2QCuIrEnSx95auGVdA2bJwgtkUzgc3IInBzwAngaFsBhxA9yS9e1I8OehfJ2gC4eKQwjKw9zQSdUXKhVogwKvKPwB7juVHZy5EIYLk16WOdvQFYg0JwkIxcWrQ/s1600/IMG_1935.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhOGqFkhZaT_KWt2QCuIrEnSx95auGVdA2bJwgtkUzgc3IInBzwAngaFsBhxA9yS9e1I8OehfJ2gC4eKQwjKw9zQSdUXKhVogwKvKPwB7juVHZy5EIYLk16WOdvQFYg0JwkIxcWrQ/s320/IMG_1935.JPG" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Oh yeah, this was Kjerstin saving Christmas. She wrapped every last ditty under the tree and bought gifts for the kids that they actually wanted. Thanks, Keesaw!</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgyPEBggvEESnxMqV2pZKjD7xMz5xMbQ26_DkR6ejDW8PwpwWHTNnjGG6_oNOBtHnVqeKYiymuTA5TF2JcHkxpOCBQkFyI0cXbOoLb_lqV1ki_pNIUcZrkiCHsA2fRR7e7qZ-C1xg/s1600/IMG_1945.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgyPEBggvEESnxMqV2pZKjD7xMz5xMbQ26_DkR6ejDW8PwpwWHTNnjGG6_oNOBtHnVqeKYiymuTA5TF2JcHkxpOCBQkFyI0cXbOoLb_lqV1ki_pNIUcZrkiCHsA2fRR7e7qZ-C1xg/s320/IMG_1945.JPG" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">This was that lone photo I took on our three-week trek through Arizona and California. It was Christmas, for goodness sake! So much goodness in edible and non-edible forms. And all I bothered to capture was crying cousins clutching our makeshift baby gate. Ah well, tomorrow Ma's bringing a photo cd with my name on it so perhaps I'll attempt to remedy my negligence with her photos.</td></tr>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiadUes6kWofMyi4v_Aiayoijl43kvYU7KLB2ickUKYZkbH4BrRApRwkR8ky-kcqp2TlA2IboBUS5WKJtounY8QcuB9P0TbTqA1YRANDrhFgenh7PrWH0w4BrfAqvkcDEc-_9Kwrw/s1600/IMG_1951.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiadUes6kWofMyi4v_Aiayoijl43kvYU7KLB2ickUKYZkbH4BrRApRwkR8ky-kcqp2TlA2IboBUS5WKJtounY8QcuB9P0TbTqA1YRANDrhFgenh7PrWH0w4BrfAqvkcDEc-_9Kwrw/s320/IMG_1951.JPG" width="320" /></a></div>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjz1ZUz29Swrg_TH8punQha2l7JWOE5OExY0KYjU2cLY0Znjqff_35pr5-WzLxEa_nzt27Z8_db58Km5pwru7OvGXZsBti0JCajet7kjEYNUohq9WZHbxxRAqBo53aQECS7OlboGQ/s1600/IMG_1953.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjz1ZUz29Swrg_TH8punQha2l7JWOE5OExY0KYjU2cLY0Znjqff_35pr5-WzLxEa_nzt27Z8_db58Km5pwru7OvGXZsBti0JCajet7kjEYNUohq9WZHbxxRAqBo53aQECS7OlboGQ/s320/IMG_1953.JPG" width="240" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">I understand that some certain sisters of mind find "babies having babies" a tad disturbing, but Ming freaking loves that baby... and she has enough hair for pigtails now! A Larsen baby with hair! She could be kissing a rat baby and I'd forgive her, just for having pigtails. Okay, I actually think babies holding babies is endearing, not gonna lie. So maybe rats have nothing to do with it.</td></tr>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi34dORFtaUGAzsOBCkQmk6MI3X1JleUmBTV94a5vWkDvHs15qIdI91phyeeO33qJAwqrmPlRCv9HoyYra42Fx_KMtvxbP14lyGn02Yaf-xqZmSncDaIgciL9M0Qj-5N4lkFlTjKA/s1600/IMG_1955.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi34dORFtaUGAzsOBCkQmk6MI3X1JleUmBTV94a5vWkDvHs15qIdI91phyeeO33qJAwqrmPlRCv9HoyYra42Fx_KMtvxbP14lyGn02Yaf-xqZmSncDaIgciL9M0Qj-5N4lkFlTjKA/s320/IMG_1955.JPG" width="320" /></a></div>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjQXNNmqOqc9mCx5hsSyLrFBdwsw2TDGB8qDZ5LitrW1x2SFXJhj8TVHvAPgPQAFAHyR5oiq7fUFCh_qP2gUxaFmfJiLiPTGT0GCEGJWjzeG7dH2P_gqZOHITxQdgmkbskaNwfKPA/s1600/IMG_1962.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjQXNNmqOqc9mCx5hsSyLrFBdwsw2TDGB8qDZ5LitrW1x2SFXJhj8TVHvAPgPQAFAHyR5oiq7fUFCh_qP2gUxaFmfJiLiPTGT0GCEGJWjzeG7dH2P_gqZOHITxQdgmkbskaNwfKPA/s320/IMG_1962.JPG" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Five months later, I decided to start knowing where any of my food was. Here's the "before" of my pantry. I really let the floor get this bad.</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhez45-T1Xg9giAeCtJyGMQFPztt12gdtTeoijGffvmLzAu2xQPXNdCeY2P0WqoqlDARTTxB5gEhQmnjhnVELNCd8HNSv5aMVk4skyeBI3ft4T7JphCaa2d-rohPhaLOjvJLS619g/s1600/IMG_1961.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhez45-T1Xg9giAeCtJyGMQFPztt12gdtTeoijGffvmLzAu2xQPXNdCeY2P0WqoqlDARTTxB5gEhQmnjhnVELNCd8HNSv5aMVk4skyeBI3ft4T7JphCaa2d-rohPhaLOjvJLS619g/s320/IMG_1961.JPG" width="240" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Much worse than it looks. Nothing is clumped by category and half of the bottles are empty. Okay, not half, but they might as well all have been when I would whisk in there searching for an ingredient in a hurry, often coming up empty handed.</td></tr>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjhuvWQW84oxICJoRS3N1WR4iDTmiWSN8uLj9mlkv97KsDHqB8X25dDuqWMontkGr-ofS4QodmfW_-hbP5dPIgjsFRroRGMO4bRlSWEfpu6JFDbqcJUL_9tkpt3nUGDnhckT46H9w/s1600/IMG_1963.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjhuvWQW84oxICJoRS3N1WR4iDTmiWSN8uLj9mlkv97KsDHqB8X25dDuqWMontkGr-ofS4QodmfW_-hbP5dPIgjsFRroRGMO4bRlSWEfpu6JFDbqcJUL_9tkpt3nUGDnhckT46H9w/s320/IMG_1963.JPG" width="240" /></a></div>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEigrclNkLN-jgqr1XkX_2XBlPDsoKAP-uPCM4DiSogmlXVOQDlizU8f5U5pf9g3Luc14Bbb0XSzKqyoBrkavsV3zq1bkUywKbFHOfKq9GUk5TaFLV_iKYlC8Cz2DBJfxHEWFLlyqg/s1600/IMG_1964.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEigrclNkLN-jgqr1XkX_2XBlPDsoKAP-uPCM4DiSogmlXVOQDlizU8f5U5pf9g3Luc14Bbb0XSzKqyoBrkavsV3zq1bkUywKbFHOfKq9GUk5TaFLV_iKYlC8Cz2DBJfxHEWFLlyqg/s320/IMG_1964.JPG" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Ming helped me reorganize strands of spaghetti.</td></tr>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj2UgDmD5h8W42nReXD77ZpyZpOuJimYK70Zkj1TQZ1JAxy-Q7EltwNZhoBb0DZvLaTzS9CN17emJnowN9TlwGaLLqEkA1V3AxwYOrLt90EHwLi6gWwGtLr_i7g-blwWl0QRDRogg/s1600/IMG_1965.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj2UgDmD5h8W42nReXD77ZpyZpOuJimYK70Zkj1TQZ1JAxy-Q7EltwNZhoBb0DZvLaTzS9CN17emJnowN9TlwGaLLqEkA1V3AxwYOrLt90EHwLi6gWwGtLr_i7g-blwWl0QRDRogg/s320/IMG_1965.JPG" width="320" /></a></div>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgHfxBhZZkCaQHqz02U9OIbdNfZGW2fvbxfddrkW_2KaU1-S-xX_aDcI_XP7aBsOAuhq19Ca6VckqHG3FGDPaNu4VwgA0upCzqEPH6dygqW0nPR6yAR48Wz3iEbmAxALzGSv4jj7w/s1600/IMG_1967.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgHfxBhZZkCaQHqz02U9OIbdNfZGW2fvbxfddrkW_2KaU1-S-xX_aDcI_XP7aBsOAuhq19Ca6VckqHG3FGDPaNu4VwgA0upCzqEPH6dygqW0nPR6yAR48Wz3iEbmAxALzGSv4jj7w/s320/IMG_1967.JPG" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Okay, we're out of order here. Santa was unfortunately unable to deliver on Ellie's request for a hermit crab. (As it turns out, swiping crabs from the beach is illegal now??? And without ocean water they supposedly die? Plus there didn't end up being tide pools outside the beach condo where Santa was staying.) A real trooper, she used her savings to purchase them herself. Copper and Spotlyn, she calls them, and loves them with all the maternal affection that she'd otherwise have to direct toward brothers. <br /><br />Funny story about the pet habitat there. Erik picked it up full of mini dino figurines at a free stuff event. He loved it, and I didn't love it's bulkiness and odd shape for housing toys. After he left for Minnesota and I was clearing stuff out in Arizona, I tossed it in the dumpster at Kjerstin's apartment complex. A couple days later we saw the same one at Target selling for $20, and for the first time I realized the air slots were intended to keep real animals alive, not plastic ones. A pet habitat we could for sure use! I literally dumpster dove every last piece of it, even the small, clear ones. In Phoenix. In August. Love conquers all. That would be love of bargains.</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgfmVjE4EIJFqeYhCXYixMqcXuNYUfBH4gZJwb-vR6hyvRL_3r8wk4h9tcCDR_oK1fidEpjF5dJ7y_g23qgkO8GBIVQ92fqJ6dLD-NU3IfWvzfl_3ClpfyyQt20Ba-G_dvS7S6Kkg/s1600/IMG_1970.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgfmVjE4EIJFqeYhCXYixMqcXuNYUfBH4gZJwb-vR6hyvRL_3r8wk4h9tcCDR_oK1fidEpjF5dJ7y_g23qgkO8GBIVQ92fqJ6dLD-NU3IfWvzfl_3ClpfyyQt20Ba-G_dvS7S6Kkg/s320/IMG_1970.JPG" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Thirteen months later, Ming decided she doesn't actually loathe being bathed. About time, you redonculous baby head!</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhYinFKeFAJCyrahLWtYhxqJu0dEpn4g79TDRanyvC-0r7k40P8TpRuk6XoUun8iWEzY97kdYawL6yVrZqRmiOr0OjLWJu4ookozswccmeUwhBHtMuRRyde7Ez6W2Wk5RokesPVWQ/s1600/IMG_1972.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhYinFKeFAJCyrahLWtYhxqJu0dEpn4g79TDRanyvC-0r7k40P8TpRuk6XoUun8iWEzY97kdYawL6yVrZqRmiOr0OjLWJu4ookozswccmeUwhBHtMuRRyde7Ez6W2Wk5RokesPVWQ/s320/IMG_1972.JPG" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Charlie not smoooshing the living daylights out of his weak, nearly defenseless little sister/prey? A rare moment of gentleness had to be documented. </td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj5_UuUEPUPJQSywLocr1Irl3keWp8Qsv0Oy8YX2_HIIZMSgIy6VEbTEAgkF1ma4PFwjP5yz3XQCakQJeur5nsJiP4ekbge8UFC6LESQq7yvbG5c7eGoEeMqHNPEo0eKsVj3YYiIQ/s1600/IMG_1974.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj5_UuUEPUPJQSywLocr1Irl3keWp8Qsv0Oy8YX2_HIIZMSgIy6VEbTEAgkF1ma4PFwjP5yz3XQCakQJeur5nsJiP4ekbge8UFC6LESQq7yvbG5c7eGoEeMqHNPEo0eKsVj3YYiIQ/s320/IMG_1974.JPG" width="240" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Oo here we go, back to the pantry. Ta da! </td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEib8evNTUBw9K1TJVxl1HpCq1ZlrxN_rPHWqE3iVaQIZSbzaIGWUVwmrEKfLmW1HbsyT8kYpg7HBYoCxz0jaYO3i7EVMta7gZJuVVu1i4Fr20DnerRP-DKta1qFlC_loaRd397Qew/s1600/IMG_1975.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEib8evNTUBw9K1TJVxl1HpCq1ZlrxN_rPHWqE3iVaQIZSbzaIGWUVwmrEKfLmW1HbsyT8kYpg7HBYoCxz0jaYO3i7EVMta7gZJuVVu1i4Fr20DnerRP-DKta1qFlC_loaRd397Qew/s320/IMG_1975.JPG" width="240" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Still crammed in there, but I know where every last grain of rice is located now! </td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEguWkXnvRrqG4ZQCVnTZJX_KinmJ-LUJ890Gs1KCbQDzJCer-vYsoY2xx7PwviWw85ifHdE9GrtM1bfebtiBd2j5EwZ3sbpe09GAEsCSf2q53m9ruhJ3UBxF9o9xhbpM98m4pWamQ/s1600/IMG_1976.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEguWkXnvRrqG4ZQCVnTZJX_KinmJ-LUJ890Gs1KCbQDzJCer-vYsoY2xx7PwviWw85ifHdE9GrtM1bfebtiBd2j5EwZ3sbpe09GAEsCSf2q53m9ruhJ3UBxF9o9xhbpM98m4pWamQ/s320/IMG_1976.JPG" width="240" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Okay, riveting photos, I know. Can you tell I was proud?</td></tr>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">This little Houdini can and does escape from every restraining device she encounters, excepting her car seat. But it's only a matter of time... So I have to hold her at stores because no safety belt can rein her in. And she eats standing up in her high chair. Well, we put it on the lowest setting so it's more of a low chair now. And immediately after freeing herself she attacks us with all manner of cheesy grins, unrelenting until the very moment we give up on scolding her and bust up laughing. Works like a charm.</td></tr>
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<br />Whoo, that was not a succinct blog post. But it's over! Yeah, we did it!Tiffanyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11839059767032980731noreply@blogger.com5tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-37155978.post-40476044161131097162012-10-24T19:48:00.000-07:002012-10-24T19:48:06.414-07:00Sorry y'allI was hoping my inaugural Oklahoma-born blog post would bring hope for a brighter blogging future. I'd caption lots of lovely pictures, maybe fill in some of the blanks of the past, oh, five months. But folks, I'm tired. People tried to tell me I'd have more free time with kids in school, but with the uber-demanding ones tapering their naptimes, no one sleeping through the night, later bedtimes, etc., it's a rare delight to finish cleaning up and to actually sit down for the evening before 9:30pm. So feel no intentional slight, little blog of mine, for you are one of many, many projects and responsibilities collecting dust while I collect my composure, rub my weary eyes, and carry on.Kylehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09922094009020156052noreply@blogger.com6tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-37155978.post-82699922205208392232012-06-07T12:23:00.000-07:002012-06-07T12:23:09.466-07:00the gratist pichrs on erth<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/AVvXsEigdTA2zHT5M7uvQREn_eKsUIXNuRHLW3SL0ic41yIn1H0esh-YyEsM4SuRIwZa3j02ukxUbd4C82pzOyUkyG6tGACID14jVLsTHff1JHAPFfJ2WKwZftD6zXCbGlOW0tLUxt8GsA/s1600/DSCN0047.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEigdTA2zHT5M7uvQREn_eKsUIXNuRHLW3SL0ic41yIn1H0esh-YyEsM4SuRIwZa3j02ukxUbd4C82pzOyUkyG6tGACID14jVLsTHff1JHAPFfJ2WKwZftD6zXCbGlOW0tLUxt8GsA/s320/DSCN0047.JPG" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">the jungl</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjyZjclLW_PfdbnUG2dDzTY7gdEf5nzFQnWiNjhQZp827vuUiciBZWFRU28UVlT-UCRc_K3x7Gm9nfIiivyAjS6E5xYs8nNg1pUf6WN313wRtEtm_aGiPyL9Hx3XWtHJOVmTl6lTQ/s1600/DSCN0001.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjyZjclLW_PfdbnUG2dDzTY7gdEf5nzFQnWiNjhQZp827vuUiciBZWFRU28UVlT-UCRc_K3x7Gm9nfIiivyAjS6E5xYs8nNg1pUf6WN313wRtEtm_aGiPyL9Hx3XWtHJOVmTl6lTQ/s320/DSCN0001.JPG" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"> Eriks smile</td><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"></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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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgK8JDPhqAM_tR03MczPSbXNRs1BEa5hmIb5UB4ZPH-wLLDXmQkgWZjFHs-3dUEVacYQe7z2gL025GwxByOYhIVrCDDf7996yHbZUo0oOoNsUFAjC3zby5buLAqVBmKrtFCmUw8tA/s1600/DSCN0003.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgK8JDPhqAM_tR03MczPSbXNRs1BEa5hmIb5UB4ZPH-wLLDXmQkgWZjFHs-3dUEVacYQe7z2gL025GwxByOYhIVrCDDf7996yHbZUo0oOoNsUFAjC3zby5buLAqVBmKrtFCmUw8tA/s320/DSCN0003.JPG" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">sleeping byooty</td></tr>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">cute gerl</td></tr>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">mistr strong</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjIOsnsoeQ7WvcWhQmKHgX4Hn0NPkrxKuW2UuDpWWwgqolu_su0e5JNVvUAViumjfcNyovuP2djtHg9eWzAZQ19EVnYfzMTI4xawL2RSd9aJhp6Vi7Ey_bS69yfFlZ_x6I2CNpLSQ/s1600/DSCN0010.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjIOsnsoeQ7WvcWhQmKHgX4Hn0NPkrxKuW2UuDpWWwgqolu_su0e5JNVvUAViumjfcNyovuP2djtHg9eWzAZQ19EVnYfzMTI4xawL2RSd9aJhp6Vi7Ey_bS69yfFlZ_x6I2CNpLSQ/s320/DSCN0010.JPG" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">oo la la</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgdbZzyuDBJ81joFQjM7twdVY_hCW0UlTmRukiC4oiDsZvIJ9aP3qXDNPnh3e-qgxbL-cjHBdhZOs8xbE4U4_0qI3l2kFc1o_H2eCjph-zZAXggUie4ove1bTy-u0mwbkIJ1Kh3IA/s1600/DSCN0015.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgdbZzyuDBJ81joFQjM7twdVY_hCW0UlTmRukiC4oiDsZvIJ9aP3qXDNPnh3e-qgxbL-cjHBdhZOs8xbE4U4_0qI3l2kFc1o_H2eCjph-zZAXggUie4ove1bTy-u0mwbkIJ1Kh3IA/s320/DSCN0015.JPG" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">my invenchin of food</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj_mjPXmH9_TvZwhJLtAdTneeZ3oE7JyG8V6Jknitnzg5IHGB98UDaVInlHPXGhPxFYt1qVt5rqdDBhhjmFw2B6XxFJtxxZKrqe77SQyfk3am5lQcSbFkMvCYPNlVNRiJXn1MEGOA/s1600/DSCN0016.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj_mjPXmH9_TvZwhJLtAdTneeZ3oE7JyG8V6Jknitnzg5IHGB98UDaVInlHPXGhPxFYt1qVt5rqdDBhhjmFw2B6XxFJtxxZKrqe77SQyfk3am5lQcSbFkMvCYPNlVNRiJXn1MEGOA/s320/DSCN0016.JPG" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">sistrs forevr</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj475Nj4eQ7b2K5jOtRC-3KJPf6ry2JfIGBbuRpuHOTFjZLuG0TEzuwZ9xr3qTi488WAoO_vbP-MlBUKGd1lt3BeKlEdCr-UC8c_-_Cf1n6DdQfRgXbiskoXt3RUrt9fzPHX2t04A/s1600/DSCN0019.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj475Nj4eQ7b2K5jOtRC-3KJPf6ry2JfIGBbuRpuHOTFjZLuG0TEzuwZ9xr3qTi488WAoO_vbP-MlBUKGd1lt3BeKlEdCr-UC8c_-_Cf1n6DdQfRgXbiskoXt3RUrt9fzPHX2t04A/s320/DSCN0019.JPG" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">sistrs smile</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgsPACAk3s6Q5icA1xRwmhJ6l3gOw7gqvLTCQJ6Cukg4nnNpCG6Pesp9vA3JHOUa4REtl__wHq27WWaGO1Aivr36LlT3uUMTyPhtnE_crKgH8yat50HVZZ9pg3Fh65ga0eUUZbw5Q/s1600/DSCN0028.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgsPACAk3s6Q5icA1xRwmhJ6l3gOw7gqvLTCQJ6Cukg4nnNpCG6Pesp9vA3JHOUa4REtl__wHq27WWaGO1Aivr36LlT3uUMTyPhtnE_crKgH8yat50HVZZ9pg3Fh65ga0eUUZbw5Q/s320/DSCN0028.JPG" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">pingk flawr</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEicb9Jx23T1y0IvHzrnTcDWuT_mT0MdzDdUFSYkRsCoV4YTt-MFHiyF4GALQKLK3SQ6SLSG_vSFurDLxwsWEPGwGyAIW5ltK4QH52C9o3ajjJye91A9D61tQydhbU_20J8JyrAbEQ/s1600/DSCN0038.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEicb9Jx23T1y0IvHzrnTcDWuT_mT0MdzDdUFSYkRsCoV4YTt-MFHiyF4GALQKLK3SQ6SLSG_vSFurDLxwsWEPGwGyAIW5ltK4QH52C9o3ajjJye91A9D61tQydhbU_20J8JyrAbEQ/s320/DSCN0038.JPG" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">lego cidy we made</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjAH3y0OeVV1kCqb2K2jGpsNEmSPemSt3bLBjIr4FmeMRyEjr7oDzpN9NPG29pGokoUPtXCGKqdSAAfe9nm1OhGpbiUPbXxpboCp0KsL78IgkEeprHdQyGDW_M0JzyZHsDDI6WKkQ/s1600/DSCN0046.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjAH3y0OeVV1kCqb2K2jGpsNEmSPemSt3bLBjIr4FmeMRyEjr7oDzpN9NPG29pGokoUPtXCGKqdSAAfe9nm1OhGpbiUPbXxpboCp0KsL78IgkEeprHdQyGDW_M0JzyZHsDDI6WKkQ/s320/DSCN0046.JPG" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">ameleia eting solid foods</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgIxsj_xcj2B03yKTb0LLk6yLK0WBpKY852jpCGbK11_yqU6DJlkTTOw8INutTkNVaj4iyKe4hWKvaGfU4xzhTmuu4qAuPkWyiV8f2WNWIMdOPtNd4iaGIZnMVIBh5GSfKFdXWfzg/s1600/DSCN0045.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgIxsj_xcj2B03yKTb0LLk6yLK0WBpKY852jpCGbK11_yqU6DJlkTTOw8INutTkNVaj4iyKe4hWKvaGfU4xzhTmuu4qAuPkWyiV8f2WNWIMdOPtNd4iaGIZnMVIBh5GSfKFdXWfzg/s320/DSCN0045.JPG" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">this is erik. dads bak is it so?</td></tr>
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<br />Kylehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09922094009020156052noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-37155978.post-28689177549452355142012-06-05T23:01:00.002-07:002012-06-05T23:01:43.839-07:00may into june<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiB2cEs9w8FmRzt_uDPRIM5WwdqUENkcCfQkmiwOgOAn7HRid9tIxgLOiouuLgAbZDr-w-qFvNVXVT_ntnqPigDSYGCE2feRKPexHUkMrS3_X5axyoEyJyyg352xkIT3bjj0mH0-A/s1600/peasant+shirt+for+blog.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="248" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiB2cEs9w8FmRzt_uDPRIM5WwdqUENkcCfQkmiwOgOAn7HRid9tIxgLOiouuLgAbZDr-w-qFvNVXVT_ntnqPigDSYGCE2feRKPexHUkMrS3_X5axyoEyJyyg352xkIT3bjj0mH0-A/s320/peasant+shirt+for+blog.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">This is similar to the top I started with, except mine was all aqua. </td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj_zQDweQXIXykDriSmwWPIRslHOY4NRivRt6m-GLntse4OCfcw3w31kB4aCs_dtyc8rghnUF-TPF1s8ax7oRSzq2i1D7Rxc6tFXuvxT4S9z-H9uneCTkYzWntTl13a5OdabA2a2g/s1600/IMG_1345.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj_zQDweQXIXykDriSmwWPIRslHOY4NRivRt6m-GLntse4OCfcw3w31kB4aCs_dtyc8rghnUF-TPF1s8ax7oRSzq2i1D7Rxc6tFXuvxT4S9z-H9uneCTkYzWntTl13a5OdabA2a2g/s320/IMG_1345.JPG" width="240" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">I turned it into this. Not super flattering, but an improvement. And I spent $0 on my outfit for Mish's wedding. I'll wear that with pride, hehe.</td><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><br /></td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgJdFtrH7lEJQeLBHpu_V-vyVuwgPiTnQMQMa0SQ2155XKxU7rkLR0Wwihtt1c4SF-4V4d7b5pmfXuQ5KBy-3q_Bup_YrazFS7z-O44IQfaBSsu3_y1ym1oUhC8Ce-ZXZsgBc4LzQ/s1600/IMG_1339.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgJdFtrH7lEJQeLBHpu_V-vyVuwgPiTnQMQMa0SQ2155XKxU7rkLR0Wwihtt1c4SF-4V4d7b5pmfXuQ5KBy-3q_Bup_YrazFS7z-O44IQfaBSsu3_y1ym1oUhC8Ce-ZXZsgBc4LzQ/s320/IMG_1339.JPG" width="240" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">It was two long evenings of mending and repurposing clothing items, mostly successful. This one was supposed to look like...</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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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjoaqiaZVJ-zetmFBsB_LyeQnhh_4RcrBVa3pzT9x6AoqL749Pl-IjpUCUtWHhiVCqtpyDGd9eS50pfS6snMOdBhnP1dsJ_2HoyCgO7_APC5yMC1sbIJUYNX_5JEf-nBRJgiXt_pw/s1600/pleated+white+dress.gif" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjoaqiaZVJ-zetmFBsB_LyeQnhh_4RcrBVa3pzT9x6AoqL749Pl-IjpUCUtWHhiVCqtpyDGd9eS50pfS6snMOdBhnP1dsJ_2HoyCgO7_APC5yMC1sbIJUYNX_5JEf-nBRJgiXt_pw/s320/pleated+white+dress.gif" width="188" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">...this. Kjerstin and I are still convinced that she lied and just went out and bought an already made dress for the "after" shot of her skirt.</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgm7w3N7ad54d7kIZsm9vv1i1n5LyBG1hTWx6RTF4TkcSOCF9Vc5Al6i2VZO5JWx_7fskYT6y8urLh1TQjRBHABkgTTfdOBScK1DCA_SieJHj1fdpeOMWyGkSJ_zYrssZEBFE0WiQ/s1600/IMG_1356.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgm7w3N7ad54d7kIZsm9vv1i1n5LyBG1hTWx6RTF4TkcSOCF9Vc5Al6i2VZO5JWx_7fskYT6y8urLh1TQjRBHABkgTTfdOBScK1DCA_SieJHj1fdpeOMWyGkSJ_zYrssZEBFE0WiQ/s320/IMG_1356.JPG" width="240" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">In other news, the kids still carry dramatic tendencies. This tantrum was only partially staged. </td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhvLJJYsyM7ig9fY_XKiBhuCGjVhuBOLqPNnx91JUHH_Gi2gFA73osCzGwQfvcit-3n9AP38mb41XuiO2ID6ne22UXsijXQCf43Q96ZZhbIgxntxY8aT2kUGAP5MZA4AwU3KRj7GA/s1600/IMG_1357.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhvLJJYsyM7ig9fY_XKiBhuCGjVhuBOLqPNnx91JUHH_Gi2gFA73osCzGwQfvcit-3n9AP38mb41XuiO2ID6ne22UXsijXQCf43Q96ZZhbIgxntxY8aT2kUGAP5MZA4AwU3KRj7GA/s320/IMG_1357.JPG" width="240" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Erik turned five! I told him to request any meals he desired for his birthday and he came up with cold cereal, pb&j with watermelon, and mac n cheese. Wasn't about to argue.</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjaa7MEZ5t5kvA6MMNwj1LWMgF200bMItEYf8IycH6mIK0SU7GCBP5U3y6D-oubkzxT5glvC186LfxwExjqbRacxhAmTld0Ra5PzEx7ztsawmr_gl_AjLhlseW8mabj_5xk8Lwqqg/s1600/IMG_1364.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjaa7MEZ5t5kvA6MMNwj1LWMgF200bMItEYf8IycH6mIK0SU7GCBP5U3y6D-oubkzxT5glvC186LfxwExjqbRacxhAmTld0Ra5PzEx7ztsawmr_gl_AjLhlseW8mabj_5xk8Lwqqg/s320/IMG_1364.JPG" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">He also requested Chucke Cheese. The games these days are a little on the lame side, but the kids didn't seem to notice.</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiPxAgcxuCKdjHnsbZGLEM5iAq_kC-q5tbt-aKzulq9e5ganIq81meefg6P5EWPQIoEvkg7p1KxKF9v1ydTzs_meyph2x_p1scqBAbVA48xTK25T3VVdXXpA3mftXTgpxyII9MHew/s1600/IMG_1372.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiPxAgcxuCKdjHnsbZGLEM5iAq_kC-q5tbt-aKzulq9e5ganIq81meefg6P5EWPQIoEvkg7p1KxKF9v1ydTzs_meyph2x_p1scqBAbVA48xTK25T3VVdXXpA3mftXTgpxyII9MHew/s320/IMG_1372.JPG" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">This was the highlight of my night. When the jeep started to rock, Erik cried out nervously and clung desperately to the window the whole ride, thoroughly concerned that it was unsafe. Charlie laughed giddily the whole while. </td></tr>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">This was the best I got of Ellie's end-of-year kindergarten concert.</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEif5CEFi0j5EF3juOV08GvdYY7RGxKJWpRGCWcQAKnQ_ZyQj7RXql6vSDbD9FfQIwP470osB7QTmPUPJpkVkvoID6Hp9hW_ususQLx0sxtHvWvuRje8oXbwgdQDn5JIo4AE068W2w/s1600/IMG_1394.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEif5CEFi0j5EF3juOV08GvdYY7RGxKJWpRGCWcQAKnQ_ZyQj7RXql6vSDbD9FfQIwP470osB7QTmPUPJpkVkvoID6Hp9hW_ususQLx0sxtHvWvuRje8oXbwgdQDn5JIo4AE068W2w/s320/IMG_1394.JPG" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"></td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg-Yy_MbztXiMz6RMcbnb2AuIhpW2EZAXXsFzbg2x-GleL1RNWw5trVSFR5MRQiKcnZrRB2KCSrHyyFoRXEB2MMiK7TeJDrRe5drM5KaT5aiLgmd8Gexhf7B6yZGJ4JRvT30KGHCg/s1600/IMG_1398.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg-Yy_MbztXiMz6RMcbnb2AuIhpW2EZAXXsFzbg2x-GleL1RNWw5trVSFR5MRQiKcnZrRB2KCSrHyyFoRXEB2MMiK7TeJDrRe5drM5KaT5aiLgmd8Gexhf7B6yZGJ4JRvT30KGHCg/s320/IMG_1398.JPG" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">This is how I kept Ming quiet. My first kid to refuse a pacifier.</td></tr>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjChjB_rLBVZG_DUuxPMAbfJKFq_h9NMaHiLfYfd2t2yTu3kylITSXYy7a5W80IMeJI4yLZQAABe7lixmN9QoZb4nOyp7zZCC6WU1Q-B4mDhl3RnEkdRouf6TiRBD5jqBs4traCPA/s1600/IMG_1399.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjChjB_rLBVZG_DUuxPMAbfJKFq_h9NMaHiLfYfd2t2yTu3kylITSXYy7a5W80IMeJI4yLZQAABe7lixmN9QoZb4nOyp7zZCC6WU1Q-B4mDhl3RnEkdRouf6TiRBD5jqBs4traCPA/s320/IMG_1399.JPG" width="320" /></a></div>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg_pUwmaeuNqHANQDnNGAd8XyBVQ-dtNHFoaXQdnBWCaZUP2ud7ficgCGAyIgDocmXlHQ60A8e_f1zPviphn3Wy6an1cp8e-rapnfaAbxlCyUdmbIbjmfzEQisOOM7TjOUSV8pY9Q/s1600/IMG_1400.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg_pUwmaeuNqHANQDnNGAd8XyBVQ-dtNHFoaXQdnBWCaZUP2ud7ficgCGAyIgDocmXlHQ60A8e_f1zPviphn3Wy6an1cp8e-rapnfaAbxlCyUdmbIbjmfzEQisOOM7TjOUSV8pY9Q/s320/IMG_1400.JPG" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Awww, sister love. Ming doesn't yet know how lucky she is.</td></tr>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgLvkK3WuPv3TB6P6-feqC9TC3CNCiz8daKv8AvKWASzCbrd7x6buwPQ3oFlPd4E_RPhKQOmj_8OYUpgtCHm4knOxcT0fPuH-sIIF2ZLqJBgY8CWeJ-C7Wd8OYxM4Ws9jfczwnqkQ/s1600/IMG_1404.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgLvkK3WuPv3TB6P6-feqC9TC3CNCiz8daKv8AvKWASzCbrd7x6buwPQ3oFlPd4E_RPhKQOmj_8OYUpgtCHm4knOxcT0fPuH-sIIF2ZLqJBgY8CWeJ-C7Wd8OYxM4Ws9jfczwnqkQ/s320/IMG_1404.JPG" width="320" /></a></div>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgXl3miI-vi5WunH-tJOWwtyMPaCIEBL7UBdqhu93O8OlocSqPhifZtJ9kqw3baIvdPN5NBS5icHZ2UqjOHtY2eZ7c6u2uVGMQEC1EUEAdzsvIlVraQpFeBibKMNyYr_abfBB1pKQ/s1600/IMG_1406.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgXl3miI-vi5WunH-tJOWwtyMPaCIEBL7UBdqhu93O8OlocSqPhifZtJ9kqw3baIvdPN5NBS5icHZ2UqjOHtY2eZ7c6u2uVGMQEC1EUEAdzsvIlVraQpFeBibKMNyYr_abfBB1pKQ/s320/IMG_1406.JPG" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Drive in movie with wonderful friends. Thoroughly enjoyable. I think we will miss this heat sometimes.</td></tr>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgdZVLZEEGYHLrtyw9sTjuGlnetiqFOKpLiQZSoVbzjfdVwLfXYKB6VLKellCVDJtIG1IOKbWbqJSf8sv_vbaCRnYu18vQQ8D3eGntB-4V2okeOJKkFKdNQO72o9McoGapmPusFWQ/s1600/IMG_1407.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgdZVLZEEGYHLrtyw9sTjuGlnetiqFOKpLiQZSoVbzjfdVwLfXYKB6VLKellCVDJtIG1IOKbWbqJSf8sv_vbaCRnYu18vQQ8D3eGntB-4V2okeOJKkFKdNQO72o9McoGapmPusFWQ/s320/IMG_1407.JPG" width="240" /></a></div>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEikrTPhABUwjVfv_06xs9fNtvZn3W0DTz9hemLYX3WlxZdx9ZL3KTeZ1QZ9t_MQkNCzkmclBpFDIrwWceHE6wY_ssMNqhCGgsBzh4RR-HUl-EfA57nRqQCniNbc4yHZvkD3bz5cNg/s1600/IMG_1408.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEikrTPhABUwjVfv_06xs9fNtvZn3W0DTz9hemLYX3WlxZdx9ZL3KTeZ1QZ9t_MQkNCzkmclBpFDIrwWceHE6wY_ssMNqhCGgsBzh4RR-HUl-EfA57nRqQCniNbc4yHZvkD3bz5cNg/s320/IMG_1408.JPG" width="240" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">And the next morning...</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEisUnUJ2LLQOCIUMyiXOT4fINpXO5heArga_xo8ftZhv5yfHVbUK3Wh48qtgVS42MTrjRe5TW2vEOTU3fjQLbz1uPoRNm-pXyJtr_4m5iwRUNH_rv7dyAVKq0MEPUu28vqNj6Yiyw/s1600/IMG_1409.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEisUnUJ2LLQOCIUMyiXOT4fINpXO5heArga_xo8ftZhv5yfHVbUK3Wh48qtgVS42MTrjRe5TW2vEOTU3fjQLbz1uPoRNm-pXyJtr_4m5iwRUNH_rv7dyAVKq0MEPUu28vqNj6Yiyw/s320/IMG_1409.JPG" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">No shame to his game.</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgvaqS7ROyJOh1ZThH2z1ju-dY2mQR_g4r62fQBvRaHr9JKuenm3PCSCmPQBTGeZranULa-cSAoU8j67hVO7m8d5gCz87cW1URWiLSQD3kj9G3-Z7Cm0TugBluuIQwhG3Gc3GrWDQ/s1600/IMG_1410.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgvaqS7ROyJOh1ZThH2z1ju-dY2mQR_g4r62fQBvRaHr9JKuenm3PCSCmPQBTGeZranULa-cSAoU8j67hVO7m8d5gCz87cW1URWiLSQD3kj9G3-Z7Cm0TugBluuIQwhG3Gc3GrWDQ/s320/IMG_1410.JPG" width="240" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Erik's last day of preschool. Dah! Why is he so big and lovable?! I hope his teachers next year are exactly like his teachers this year. They were perfectly everything he needed. I even got a little choked up.</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh6IKhc5NNW63F61igoHP_VtRB2EnSG6BnzCtSf2NIw4NZ2OgXJUl7Sm6pM4qev8MmNCbSXUSpE2Ddy17CEZnN8QpIdUBWG_aADdfiRnPaeiwKXL4wUiSf5KMt3SCFSr2uSkViIqQ/s1600/IMG_1413.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh6IKhc5NNW63F61igoHP_VtRB2EnSG6BnzCtSf2NIw4NZ2OgXJUl7Sm6pM4qev8MmNCbSXUSpE2Ddy17CEZnN8QpIdUBWG_aADdfiRnPaeiwKXL4wUiSf5KMt3SCFSr2uSkViIqQ/s320/IMG_1413.JPG" width="240" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">As Charlie's learned to talk more and scream less, he's become less of an enemy and more of an accomplice to Erik's shenanigans. Okay, he's more like the ring leader. They're often up to no good, but look at them. Who am I to spoil their fun?</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgEmfZ99xZlhO-TRCjcZyVeKzoBDKE225HTa-mgwnVueSbavK7yeBuIlbNd42DfMKCNKLHrYgIHEU-1lLPWFtaslfW4fvoqGu4ypPt36W6QgvWhgWVswwH9pS0P7BtFJ0zXYTzXsg/s1600/IMG_1415.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgEmfZ99xZlhO-TRCjcZyVeKzoBDKE225HTa-mgwnVueSbavK7yeBuIlbNd42DfMKCNKLHrYgIHEU-1lLPWFtaslfW4fvoqGu4ypPt36W6QgvWhgWVswwH9pS0P7BtFJ0zXYTzXsg/s320/IMG_1415.JPG" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">They requested a Wild Kratts birthday party that our amazing Crum friends were kind enough to host. </td></tr>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Girls' night outs are probably the best thing ever. Besides the kids and responsibilities I'm escaping, of course. =) </td></tr>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Then Charlie turned three. He made a scene at church, blocking a crowd of people in the hallway by jumping out with arms spread, exclaiming "BOOM BABY!" He thinks he's hilarious. </td></tr>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Goodness that kid.</td></tr>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">He's technically no longer terrible, but still plenty of "No I can do it all by myself!" around here.</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgaJlvYKXf3DzUpicROjaMST0-LbkwcC_RKh1iRm47y0Wm525aGfySfjOTeSP46WFj9VfW7NUujPppemYzBZ1qmBJmcl1wqelB8czQJOHmosVDmutpT0U2VlISF9TRYKnHFXIEfsA/s1600/IMG_1452.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgaJlvYKXf3DzUpicROjaMST0-LbkwcC_RKh1iRm47y0Wm525aGfySfjOTeSP46WFj9VfW7NUujPppemYzBZ1qmBJmcl1wqelB8czQJOHmosVDmutpT0U2VlISF9TRYKnHFXIEfsA/s320/IMG_1452.JPG" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">It's looking up from here. He may actually turn out to be our most stable and typical child yet. Oh the irony. Sure love the lot of them. </td></tr>
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<br />Kylehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09922094009020156052noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-37155978.post-80071668472560329222012-05-06T23:05:00.000-07:002012-05-06T23:05:02.842-07:00who am I kidding? I have no time to blog. These pics may assume amusing captions at a later day, but not today! my new motto: done is better than perfect.<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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<br />Kylehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09922094009020156052noreply@blogger.com6tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-37155978.post-41247096432587114672012-05-02T22:55:00.003-07:002012-05-02T23:03:28.852-07:00peopleI'm a full-fledged, extroverted yellow personality, down to every spontaneous, obnoxious trait. Part of this means that I don't like to be alone. I can't recall ever craving time to myself. Most of the time, this works out well as family and friends have lived with us for the greater part of our marriage, and when they're not officially part of the household, they're still in and out. We thoroughly enjoyed visits from Kyle's parents and my parents this past week.<br />
<br />
Kyle left for three days early this morning and then promptly at 11:00, my lovely next-door neighbor picked up Mama, the last of our visitors to go, and whisked her off to the airport in a fancy, silver Hummer. I missed her immediately and have felt strangely lonesome ever since.<br />
<br />
I was still surrounded by children and tasted little peace and silence until 8:17 pm, but still. So uncomfortably on my own. I confess it was even very much a discouraging day. Nothing too notable. I just let things get me down, and no adults were here to help me pick myself up. Ellie did her best, which is pretty admirable for a six-year-old. (That kid is so stinkin' mature and thoughtful. At least every day she compliments me on my motherhood and expresses sympathy for the hard work I put into my job. I continually remind her that I love my job and that she need not feel so culpable for her brothers' rowdiness or her mother's outbursts.) <br />
<br />
Anyway, I intended to do some substantial blogging tonight. To catch up on some of the goodness that has filled or at least accented our lives as of late. However, I will be the only adult in the house come sunrise tomorrow so I best be prepared to make an appearance in the am.<br />
<br />
Instead of document my own life, I spent a good spot of time tonight catching
up on everyone else's blogs. Loved it. Wish I'd take the time to
leave loving comments. It gave me a touch of adult contact, though,
that I needed today. I just kind of love people. Especially my
people. I remain convinced as ever that families and friends don't come
more lovable than my own. <br />
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<br />Kylehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09922094009020156052noreply@blogger.com6tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-37155978.post-56962938112198897452012-04-22T21:41:00.003-07:002012-04-22T21:41:55.563-07:00it's good<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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Life is full, both of distractions and the regular splendor. I wish I had time to document our doings. All I've got is this little piece of magic here, and boy am I grateful for this baby. <br />
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She drains me in every way possible, but her smiles recharge my spirit and give strength to my weary bones. My only friend who is crazy enough to have four kids even closer in age than my own said once that her job is simply to keep her children alive. I figured that was some hyperbole. Well, I am discovering here first hand that... yeah, she exaggerated a little bit. But only a precious little bit! Just keeping us fed, uninjured, and where we need to be is a tall order, and it doesn't always happen. If someone gets a bath here or there, that's a bonus. I don't care what feminists say, stay-at-home-moming is not for the faint of heart! This is the real deal, folks, and it's tough. But I love it. Especially right now while all the kids sleep. =) <br />
<br />Kylehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09922094009020156052noreply@blogger.com1