tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-55061009875274455932024-03-13T14:05:47.320-07:00Prize for Posingwritten by the ultimate WANNABEJLJhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16748662196055415831noreply@blogger.comBlogger279125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5506100987527445593.post-59777359841359976962015-01-19T16:00:00.001-08:002015-01-19T16:00:11.750-08:00(1,2,3.... ) We're Diaper free!!!What am I going to do with an extra $40 per month? Here are a few ideas off the top of my head: <div><br></div><div>2 movie dates (or one with popcorn)</div><div>1 DownEast basic dress</div><div>1/3 Boden dress</div><div>12 cases of Diet Coke</div><div>1 dozen Sweet Tooth Fairy cupcakes</div><div>1 mani pedi</div><div>3 months of The Economist </div><div>4 paperback books </div><div>1/20 ticket to Paris </div><div><br></div><div>Spoil this little rat.<div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgTaFr0zkwgemZ-2nwv6mr5WgB5GbfRA_1XcnIvKP3vh9kIHwbR7JGmp8DZTdPgBQBw0bYtXn2O0XteW122749vmZS72n9e0mdLvyVL2DHP7nM3hllVN7LpZ8mQZTlNZGIH0WXC28i-MkXN/s640/blogger-image--83868077.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgTaFr0zkwgemZ-2nwv6mr5WgB5GbfRA_1XcnIvKP3vh9kIHwbR7JGmp8DZTdPgBQBw0bYtXn2O0XteW122749vmZS72n9e0mdLvyVL2DHP7nM3hllVN7LpZ8mQZTlNZGIH0WXC28i-MkXN/s640/blogger-image--83868077.jpg"></a></div></div><div><br></div><div><br></div>JLJhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16748662196055415831noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5506100987527445593.post-73970039551272095932015-01-09T08:30:00.000-08:002015-01-09T08:30:48.728-08:00Hello? Guys?? I'm still in here!<br />
When I was in high school my brothers, dad and I and sometimes other members of our family would race to the lake after work to fit in a water ski before dark. We were always the last boat on the water getting the last of the perfect summer night glassy water. But once it was too dark to see it was a race to get the boat out of the water, dried off and covered. We each had our job to do and we worked quickly together but somehow Brother Brig often ended up inside the boat while we were snapping the cover into place. We would hear a muffled and pleading, "Uh, hello?!? Guys? I'm still in here!"<br />
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Dear friends, I've been an absent blogger. Not one single update in the year 2014. There were some hard times. And some great times. I had to let some things go. This blog and my weight, to name a couple.<br />
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But, guys! I'm still here!<br />
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In <span style="font-size: large;">January</span>, we rang in the new year with best friends then toured the zoo. We built lots of Lego creations and learned to eat with a fork.<br />
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In <span style="font-size: large;">February </span>we turned 9 and celebrated with visits from beloved grandmothers. We also celebrated the opening and dedication of the Gilbert Temple. <br />
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In <span style="font-size: large;">March</span> we hunted eggs in the park. Or maybe it was<span style="font-size: large;"> April?</span> <br />
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In <span style="font-size: large;">May</span> we turned 7. With school's ending we started swim team and lots of TV snuggling. <br />
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In <span style="font-size: large;">June </span>we dressed in our best. <br />
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<span style="font-size: large;"> July </span>found us in Utah for a month of family, mountains, lakes, cabins, hikes, and lots of ice cream.<br />
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In <span style="font-size: large;">August</span> we started 6th, 4th and 2nd grade and danced in the rain. And started football.<br />
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We also turned 2!<br />
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In <span style="font-size: large;">September</span> we read books with Dad and waited for the earth to cool. We also played lots of football. <br />
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In <span style="font-size: large;">October </span>we invited friends to our Halloween party. We also played lots of football.<br />
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In <span style="font-size: large;">November </span>we turned 12. And finally played our final games of football!</div>
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We had a most happy <span style="font-size: large;">December,</span> celebrating Christmas in our new house. Recitals, parties, friends, family and good food filled us up. <br />
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Here's to a new year! I plan on reading some good books, making delicious food, being a better friend and human and ridding our family of diapers forever!<br />
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Happy New Year to you dear friends!JLJhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16748662196055415831noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5506100987527445593.post-37217274090430254012013-12-26T20:08:00.001-08:002013-12-26T20:08:55.728-08:00Pre Christmas life<div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhM97A6aWDamkzdK14nrc_0DiPOlxntRSR18x0c2613E4PYqiKfMB-SZgy-mkYDH5gBtqYyTv566DrnXeEHgcU5Yuq9QYTJ6W_XZ6HYAegQO_3t6O1wLWLZ7a5mM3Gkht9GSBnArU96LTnL/s640/blogger-image-115859527.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"></a><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhM97A6aWDamkzdK14nrc_0DiPOlxntRSR18x0c2613E4PYqiKfMB-SZgy-mkYDH5gBtqYyTv566DrnXeEHgcU5Yuq9QYTJ6W_XZ6HYAegQO_3t6O1wLWLZ7a5mM3Gkht9GSBnArU96LTnL/s640/blogger-image-115859527.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"></a><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjSt6OtTvfhjXlRlBCf515JyXq_MgphiuzQijeA3IM23XuFuXro9jn-JSOF8rgYcvgeGSOeSVhGS1HxBbRLpOu-HhXezF4xLpMDjAEV5Un-wmNq5LX_QEHwpB-u7XaZYOVfXfQ8dSeb4To2/s640/blogger-image--365519068.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"></a><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjSt6OtTvfhjXlRlBCf515JyXq_MgphiuzQijeA3IM23XuFuXro9jn-JSOF8rgYcvgeGSOeSVhGS1HxBbRLpOu-HhXezF4xLpMDjAEV5Un-wmNq5LX_QEHwpB-u7XaZYOVfXfQ8dSeb4To2/s640/blogger-image--365519068.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"></a><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh8sMOdYPO6qlscbv9XqwYaNTegcrtEkRzQ4KtHQVl3mU2biydWI0ujdZxwm_1jU1LgDdy2kKXzebrzSTbECiGoXzq4wowxqDgAIOqKzGP6ZoLTnBGPqJ_5FPbOoDGsH0uaiQ3tlIq_tjBz/s640/blogger-image--1943647993.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"></a><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh8sMOdYPO6qlscbv9XqwYaNTegcrtEkRzQ4KtHQVl3mU2biydWI0ujdZxwm_1jU1LgDdy2kKXzebrzSTbECiGoXzq4wowxqDgAIOqKzGP6ZoLTnBGPqJ_5FPbOoDGsH0uaiQ3tlIq_tjBz/s640/blogger-image--1943647993.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"></a><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiuvQfh6Nf3l7BQLdVWye2qp1pZs1CAaoLhKlv4N-up06mcT-MJa5fjH0zdEOwaAkufTfXFdA7xiQIipauHXeS7mSnoIpzJZ92DWgx1G6B88ARQjA2mRs0qu6MvlR49718UiM7anClMr0vJ/s640/blogger-image-1407731844.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"></a><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiuvQfh6Nf3l7BQLdVWye2qp1pZs1CAaoLhKlv4N-up06mcT-MJa5fjH0zdEOwaAkufTfXFdA7xiQIipauHXeS7mSnoIpzJZ92DWgx1G6B88ARQjA2mRs0qu6MvlR49718UiM7anClMr0vJ/s640/blogger-image-1407731844.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"></a><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgRj3yckqw339WSHtm_6L6507CJgXEAcbidlWy0_4z-LyYxI19yFavHUnXD__MzPefek0fGCkaE954lFVIVkfzoSv1-he2nBEGpKPTVc5SP8OlwM5jzJKLIHVaeKjrOseBPHnas7yL3HOJu/s640/blogger-image-1872958801.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"></a><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgRj3yckqw339WSHtm_6L6507CJgXEAcbidlWy0_4z-LyYxI19yFavHUnXD__MzPefek0fGCkaE954lFVIVkfzoSv1-he2nBEGpKPTVc5SP8OlwM5jzJKLIHVaeKjrOseBPHnas7yL3HOJu/s640/blogger-image-1872958801.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"></a><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjJtTOzYCEzJsvlzaO72tlljl7g09iSxv9ZsAy_NkDeSDw5xrsJ_OhbD7VhW2LAdNsvYeElSSFCqe0kxovP0KclM0fS2jpMPWkUoSACuUdsWrjVYHkdbZcfkNtYr52cM-nvBtqydk0aRAFH/s640/blogger-image-1943044709.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"></a><div class="separator" style="clear: both;">I remember the years when December seemed like the longest month of the year. Christmas Day was always too far away! Now, there just aren't enough days in the month to get everything done and enjoy the season to my full satisfaction. </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><br></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;">Some of my favorites from this December: </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><br></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;">Watching #2 sing his little heart out at his chorus Christmas concert. </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjJtTOzYCEzJsvlzaO72tlljl7g09iSxv9ZsAy_NkDeSDw5xrsJ_OhbD7VhW2LAdNsvYeElSSFCqe0kxovP0KclM0fS2jpMPWkUoSACuUdsWrjVYHkdbZcfkNtYr52cM-nvBtqydk0aRAFH/s640/blogger-image-1943044709.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"></a><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjs-VBqZEAETKtvR4WlWFsoXfQ1GlGhIdP_wdsNqr60SXKynf0_rIqBW65kn74IpqnqOwFPr83OylV2QtzxAHBEsajpjdpq-VKkK_0olf0e5-XdFTSgwtLxroy2eEdjO1d3b3Bqbg_NZkbv/s640/blogger-image--155777915.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjs-VBqZEAETKtvR4WlWFsoXfQ1GlGhIdP_wdsNqr60SXKynf0_rIqBW65kn74IpqnqOwFPr83OylV2QtzxAHBEsajpjdpq-VKkK_0olf0e5-XdFTSgwtLxroy2eEdjO1d3b3Bqbg_NZkbv/s640/blogger-image--155777915.jpg"></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><br></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;">Attending #1's first bass recital. Her first lesson of the semester ended with #1 in tears of frustration. But after months of hard work, she played her pieces beautifully. </div><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjJtTOzYCEzJsvlzaO72tlljl7g09iSxv9ZsAy_NkDeSDw5xrsJ_OhbD7VhW2LAdNsvYeElSSFCqe0kxovP0KclM0fS2jpMPWkUoSACuUdsWrjVYHkdbZcfkNtYr52cM-nvBtqydk0aRAFH/s640/blogger-image-1943044709.jpg"></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><br></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;">#3 tried out a cheer class this fall and her parent performance was a lot of fun to watch. Whatever she may lack in coordination or rhythm she makes up for in personality and spirit. I just wanted to squeeze her the whole time! </div><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgRj3yckqw339WSHtm_6L6507CJgXEAcbidlWy0_4z-LyYxI19yFavHUnXD__MzPefek0fGCkaE954lFVIVkfzoSv1-he2nBEGpKPTVc5SP8OlwM5jzJKLIHVaeKjrOseBPHnas7yL3HOJu/s640/blogger-image-1872958801.jpg"></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><br></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;">The Nutcracker Ballet at Symphony Hall with #3. This used to be my tradition with #1, but I figured it was time to pass the torch. The second picture was taken just after the performance and #3 is still a little sad for Clara who woke up without her prince. </div><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiuvQfh6Nf3l7BQLdVWye2qp1pZs1CAaoLhKlv4N-up06mcT-MJa5fjH0zdEOwaAkufTfXFdA7xiQIipauHXeS7mSnoIpzJZ92DWgx1G6B88ARQjA2mRs0qu6MvlR49718UiM7anClMr0vJ/s640/blogger-image-1407731844.jpg"></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><br></div><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh8sMOdYPO6qlscbv9XqwYaNTegcrtEkRzQ4KtHQVl3mU2biydWI0ujdZxwm_1jU1LgDdy2kKXzebrzSTbECiGoXzq4wowxqDgAIOqKzGP6ZoLTnBGPqJ_5FPbOoDGsH0uaiQ3tlIq_tjBz/s640/blogger-image--1943647993.jpg"></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><br></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;">What would Christmas be without the Mesa Temple Lights? If we had known we were going to end up at the temple that night, perhaps I would have done my hair or forced my kids into better clothes. But maybe that's why it was a great night for everyone. Sometimes planning is overrated. </div><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjSt6OtTvfhjXlRlBCf515JyXq_MgphiuzQijeA3IM23XuFuXro9jn-JSOF8rgYcvgeGSOeSVhGS1HxBbRLpOu-HhXezF4xLpMDjAEV5Un-wmNq5LX_QEHwpB-u7XaZYOVfXfQ8dSeb4To2/s640/blogger-image--365519068.jpg"></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><br></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;">Lastly, #3 is my little spirit of Christmas present. She has decorated our home with nativity scenes she's drawn. She is the one that begs me to read her Christmas stories every night and the one who will come sit with me at the piano and sing along to all the Christmas songs. Christmastime is one of the big payouts of motherhood and #3's Christmas spirit is my big Christmas bonus. </div><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhM97A6aWDamkzdK14nrc_0DiPOlxntRSR18x0c2613E4PYqiKfMB-SZgy-mkYDH5gBtqYyTv566DrnXeEHgcU5Yuq9QYTJ6W_XZ6HYAegQO_3t6O1wLWLZ7a5mM3Gkht9GSBnArU96LTnL/s640/blogger-image-115859527.jpg"></div>JLJhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16748662196055415831noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5506100987527445593.post-88797304134772474972013-11-15T09:14:00.003-08:002021-09-05T16:13:59.771-07:00My sweet #1 turns 11<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/AVvXsEgJQ46wZ7C6clBVWGOMTTDo0LEcApfyhw0UVl9g1QSwtOYiRLE9xvI1IGo7gmhQzLiYR5IH_54gqEBaPjyUBr_EwXQBi0EtDdpUH-E9SynnBdzOWwbC8FGylE-oLgXxBlyeKQ2FhzZDa8YG/s1600/SNC11088.JPG" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgJQ46wZ7C6clBVWGOMTTDo0LEcApfyhw0UVl9g1QSwtOYiRLE9xvI1IGo7gmhQzLiYR5IH_54gqEBaPjyUBr_EwXQBi0EtDdpUH-E9SynnBdzOWwbC8FGylE-oLgXxBlyeKQ2FhzZDa8YG/s400/SNC11088.JPG" width="300" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">This is back when she had all her baby teeth. </td></tr>
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My #1 turned 11.<br />
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I feel like I'm a pretty good mom to young children. Or that over the years I've learned how to become one. But I don't know anything about mothering maturing young ladies. (I couldn't even bring myself to write a sentence with the word puberty.)<br />
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I've been reading about the changes in the brain that start around #1's age and continue for the next decade. Holy cow! I hope I can keep my hands and arms inside the ride at all times. <br />
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To balance the fear and shock of change, let me tell you some of the bright side of my maturing young lady.<br />
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#1 is funny. She has a quirky, smarty-pants, sometimes sarcastic sense of humor. It catches me off guard and makes me laugh. She recently created a 16 page comic book about an Osprey. It was hilarious! One scene involved Aunt Turkey leaving Thanksgiving dinner in tears. The dialogue bubble reading, "My poor husband, waaaaaah!" Spouse and I stayed up late reading and rereading some of the funniest parts; we were genuinely entertained. <br />
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">No cake for this babe. As requested, we stuck candles in a dutch apple pie.</td></tr>
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#1 started playing the bass in her school strings class and takes a lesson at ASU each Saturday. It's amazing how much she's learned in just a few months. I love the rich, low notes that fill our home every afternoon while she practices. It's beautiful.<br />
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#1 is rocking it in her ALP math class. I'm happy that Spouse's math genes played the dominant role in this child. I feel smarter just being related to this pretty, little math nerd. (And I mean that with the greatest admiration, I wish I were a math nerd.)<br />
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Free babysitting!!! She's responsible, trustworthy and a good leader. Baby E loves and responds to #1 like she's the second mother. #1 loves that she can opt out of tagging along to #2's football practice because she can stay at home alone now. <br />
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<br />To summarize: I'm scared about the upcoming years because I don't know if I'm going to be a good enough mother. But I love seeing #1's personality and identity emerging and I'm honored (and very, very humbled) to be her guide. <br />
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">No party this year. We celebrated with bowling and lunch with her BFF. Sadly, #1 got her bowling skills from her mom. Our scores added together didn't hit 100. </td></tr>
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<br /></div>JLJhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16748662196055415831noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5506100987527445593.post-8145612172930485562013-11-05T11:31:00.001-08:002013-11-05T11:31:39.072-08:00The October that got awayIt is no coincidence that just as the outside temperature became livable our family life kicked into high gear. There's something about not sweating 24 hours a day that invigorates you, that makes you want to say, Yes I can!, instead of, No, it's too darn hot. That makes for a busy month and lots of fun times.<br />
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We journeyed to Utah for the kid's Fall break. A week of cousins, Grandmas, no homework and sweatshirts was just what the doctor ordered.<br />
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Grandma J hosted a Halloween party where dress ups are a must. Painting pumpkins, tasty treats and looking for the lost bag of prizes made for a happy afternoon. <br />
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Nana organized a Fall Scavenger hunt that had my children and their cousins running (actually, they were taxied by willing mothers) around town taking pictures of silly things like, singing a Primary song for someone at the Tabernacle, running a lap at the high school track, and posing on the blue bulls on Main Street. The final task before heading home for hot chocolate and donuts, was to find four pumpkins hidden among the fallen leaves in Green Canyon.<br />
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As my children grow our annual family Halloween party has morphed from a casual cookie-decorating-and-movie evening into a full fledged event that I actually have to plan and invite people. The trouble is definitely worth it as the party is something the children look forward to and are happy to help plan and prepare for. <br />
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After a ward trunk-r-treat, classroom parties, and pumpkin carving, by the time Halloween night rolled around I was sick of Halloween. But my kids were raring to go. I accompanied a Viking warrior, a medieval knight and a "pop star dementor" around the neighborhood as they begged for candy. <br />
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I'm in Halloween recovery. To cope I've eaten approximately 23 Reese Peanut Butter cups in the last 7 days. I have a problem.<br />
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JLJhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16748662196055415831noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5506100987527445593.post-20324004452277460972013-09-15T08:46:00.000-07:002013-09-15T08:46:08.517-07:00Good things this week<div>
Good thing 1<br />
Baby E attended her first story time for babies at the library. She clapped, giggled and bounced right on cue - cutest thing in the world! </div>
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Good thing 2<br />
Buster made a catch in the end zone, scoring the final points in his team's winning flag football game!<br />
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Good thing 3<br />
#1 and I were enjoying dinner together at a yummy yuppy-ish sort of joint when the lady at the next table leaned over and got our attention, gesturing towards #1.</div>
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"Excuse me, are those highlights natural? They are? Women pay a lot of money to have their hair look like that.</div>
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"You know, I have 12 and 14 year old sons and I am always trying to point out what true beauty looks like. It looks just like you."</div>
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Isn't that the kindest compliment? It certainly made #1's night. </div>
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Good thing 4<br />
Spouse took #3 to get her ears pierced! My sensitive little kitten
thought it was the most painful experience <i>ever</i>, "almost as bad as
shots!" But she's so happy to have sparkly pink butterflies adorning her
ears. <br />
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I love this photographic journal (by Spouse) sequencing her experience.<br />
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<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhyNiaFVXsr38sJsLwrRYhyphenhyphenVU4NTzBFV5O8B7_n9tHt7jAKDek2JGtqmn580zduFZbC-7JaycxqIDy_hpuP-EJvRF2xZQRs7p9B8VBzfeZ12wNF7g68Vl6o5xaJdZ42sbaQz8RMA36whRGw/s1600/IMGP0868.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="211" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhyNiaFVXsr38sJsLwrRYhyphenhyphenVU4NTzBFV5O8B7_n9tHt7jAKDek2JGtqmn580zduFZbC-7JaycxqIDy_hpuP-EJvRF2xZQRs7p9B8VBzfeZ12wNF7g68Vl6o5xaJdZ42sbaQz8RMA36whRGw/s320/IMGP0868.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Is this going to hurt?</td></tr>
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<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEimA1AY0NMm6bN_NBT0wrsEV91gteWly4tffSeHf1qLyQQXmmVQWJD0xzyVir2qE1GDcVnYEgeh_MjSQ8qdThLfLOu_0jKCQtrhBQJeivHd9Cgicab9aIASf3myF5nq2b9w3LvWXeYFS5QP/s1600/IMGP0871.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="212" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEimA1AY0NMm6bN_NBT0wrsEV91gteWly4tffSeHf1qLyQQXmmVQWJD0xzyVir2qE1GDcVnYEgeh_MjSQ8qdThLfLOu_0jKCQtrhBQJeivHd9Cgicab9aIASf3myF5nq2b9w3LvWXeYFS5QP/s320/IMGP0871.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">The calm before the storm</td></tr>
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<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhx1GkhrZi1bdY9CLFJKU1yDFk6c4C00Lahk55615nZ3bW_p7ziYf9J66eBO6ggvxNMSdCtid-UmraAxZ_OInXO2pfvuBCMxXMQYyqiTiosJeFIdsrA8boSXot8Pm0ofzZ4dC9rU6LRIIs0/s1600/IMGP0872.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="212" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhx1GkhrZi1bdY9CLFJKU1yDFk6c4C00Lahk55615nZ3bW_p7ziYf9J66eBO6ggvxNMSdCtid-UmraAxZ_OInXO2pfvuBCMxXMQYyqiTiosJeFIdsrA8boSXot8Pm0ofzZ4dC9rU6LRIIs0/s320/IMGP0872.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">OWWW! </td></tr>
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<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiQWstAcqbZLAfxMIMKn6CVxlrg9OMkLMy0O2FpJsZdwwH_iCspRJa8O1pM_U_l9bqfSolZ2pHnezke9MX_vHUXOsn_2vhXPa3pN3_GtZx9Fj3PqbVJWYRtSM-1H2nZXnI3ClEylpyfkrZ3/s1600/IMGP0873.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="212" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiQWstAcqbZLAfxMIMKn6CVxlrg9OMkLMy0O2FpJsZdwwH_iCspRJa8O1pM_U_l9bqfSolZ2pHnezke9MX_vHUXOsn_2vhXPa3pN3_GtZx9Fj3PqbVJWYRtSM-1H2nZXnI3ClEylpyfkrZ3/s320/IMGP0873.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">I CAN'T TAKE IT ANYMORE!</td></tr>
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<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhV8S8gnIF532BHlWYgKbUFOyMH1bEpQ5sFbUS3-xkmoLGo5FVexp8b_2OBy2EglFlWXNhzjT0DD79nrMZc_ZirlXnwtYHNFD_3cr_zOcy3FfBzALFM8cGZ4jBOKz2NjsteC-KIapgOeZe9/s1600/IMGP0874.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="212" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhV8S8gnIF532BHlWYgKbUFOyMH1bEpQ5sFbUS3-xkmoLGo5FVexp8b_2OBy2EglFlWXNhzjT0DD79nrMZc_ZirlXnwtYHNFD_3cr_zOcy3FfBzALFM8cGZ4jBOKz2NjsteC-KIapgOeZe9/s320/IMGP0874.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">(state of shock)</td></tr>
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<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhXKfk9B3uvPNNvYsnGWgGdpICjUskbZnmj1dmGAp967O1xPiUp-0Kc1bbX7uvAebXCi9_Xl_B5ZoWSX5ikOeh5XhcY7GQJi8M2aSlN_mkEudJOc2beQin3tNWEYJwOSYtRZeDdljAzQnzc/s1600/IMGP0876.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="212" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhXKfk9B3uvPNNvYsnGWgGdpICjUskbZnmj1dmGAp967O1xPiUp-0Kc1bbX7uvAebXCi9_Xl_B5ZoWSX5ikOeh5XhcY7GQJi8M2aSlN_mkEudJOc2beQin3tNWEYJwOSYtRZeDdljAzQnzc/s320/IMGP0876.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">I made it? And I have earrings? </td></tr>
</tbody></table>
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JLJhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16748662196055415831noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5506100987527445593.post-49838577110512000752013-09-05T15:21:00.001-07:002013-09-05T15:23:23.440-07:00Enjoying it!<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjFufE3KCDaBl_11xvOz7Qnye2s4YDWLog1EzBt0pVQ3-MXLCqTSdxnIwbVXu3D-FRxO6mQucvid-t49SJS0SnN7mVwTkCvLx-UZEllehY5zvpBZ5NpUfG6h7jRSdtGB8y_IjQMgL4SncXt/s1600/IMGP0800.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="424" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjFufE3KCDaBl_11xvOz7Qnye2s4YDWLog1EzBt0pVQ3-MXLCqTSdxnIwbVXu3D-FRxO6mQucvid-t49SJS0SnN7mVwTkCvLx-UZEllehY5zvpBZ5NpUfG6h7jRSdtGB8y_IjQMgL4SncXt/s640/IMGP0800.jpg" width="640" /></a></div>
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The other day, as #1 gave me her home-from-school-hug she commented, "Wow, Mom. Our house is really dirty. We need to clean."<br />
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Since I had spent my morning sweeping and scrubbing I knew our house was in fact, NOT dirty. But as I looked around I had to admit #1 had a point. Across the kitchen floor there were plastic food container lids, cookie cutters and a few board books. The family room was scattered with blocks, shapes, puzzle pieces and plastic rings. Behind me in the playroom the little grocery-cart was tipped over with at least 59 pieces of play-food spilling out of its basket. I was also pretty sure that my bathroom floor was still covered in Q-tips and various plastic bottles of beauty goods. <br />
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At that moment it became official: Baby E's infant-hood was over. Toddler-hood has begun. <br />
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And just to rub it in, she turned one last week.<br />
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{How could she do that to me? Doesn't she know she's my baby?}<br />
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I'm learning the wisdom of the last baby: just enjoy it. That's why I don't notice the mess or why I don't mind picking it up several times a day. I'm enjoying watching her make a fantastic mess of herself at every meal. I'm enjoying the slow days where we don't leave the house because of her napping schedule. I'm enjoying chasing her down the halls at church. <br />
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I've learned something in these nearly 11 years of young motherhood. It doesn't last, infant-hood, toddler-hood. Each stage is so temporary, there's no reason to worry or stress. The house will be clean again someday. I will be fit again someday. I will leave the house again someday. (I wish I could have whispered that into my 25 year old ears.)<br />
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And now, Baby E at 12 months:<br />
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She is truly a happy and easy going baby. Highly curious, loves to get into things, watches how things work and solves problems. She loves zurbers on her belly and neck; my little piggy on her toes.<br />
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She has learned to wave hello and goodbye and to give kisses. She claps and bops to the beat of music; walks around our house babbling and making sing-song noises. She loves to turn the pages of her books, pointing at pictures.<br />
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Baby E is a busy body, always on the go. Sad for me, she's too busy for snuggles and cuddles. She loves it when the older kids come home from school and is known to shriek in excitement when she hears them coming.<br />
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True to last baby fashion, her birthday was a small affair. A few balloons hung by an insistent sister and cupcakes shared with siblings. I realized that I hadn't even taken a good picture of her lately let alone a nice, professional 12 month picture like my other children enjoyed.<br />
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No mom guilt though. I'm just enjoying it, right?<br />
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<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjZ11MPa2eQasStIy9qukqHIizxNVPE6n5S3sytO-ztR-5jBaXUUj_nTGEyTnwWKT-naZxnFs3UvLCvQubwhQS3WHXq53IzqnCxuxpWLiVPhg8NxH_jX_Rd03lOXaQuh2bc-lkOtMlTJ4wX/s1600/IMGP0807.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="424" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjZ11MPa2eQasStIy9qukqHIizxNVPE6n5S3sytO-ztR-5jBaXUUj_nTGEyTnwWKT-naZxnFs3UvLCvQubwhQS3WHXq53IzqnCxuxpWLiVPhg8NxH_jX_Rd03lOXaQuh2bc-lkOtMlTJ4wX/s640/IMGP0807.jpg" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">enjoying some of her presents</td></tr>
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<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhJC6aZfF31BSm2T3kQdx8pY7o_o0mc-hunvf3SabARYjT05xoqlPlTK2q31rc_Cz-iZJRfodUDB6jb7A7W_QCMBYy_Xh2qsMZSd72DV6up9Puj05I1H-bWNyaEWLDMB6AkumMKMRYMjmdE/s1600/IMGP0819.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="424" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhJC6aZfF31BSm2T3kQdx8pY7o_o0mc-hunvf3SabARYjT05xoqlPlTK2q31rc_Cz-iZJRfodUDB6jb7A7W_QCMBYy_Xh2qsMZSd72DV6up9Puj05I1H-bWNyaEWLDMB6AkumMKMRYMjmdE/s640/IMGP0819.jpg" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Is it possible to take a nice picture with four kids? No, it is not.</td><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><br /></td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: right; margin-left: 1em; text-align: right;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgjsuwqBmebOEQcaSsgMg6aOzP-TBvaKho-b0gRTIKZsyoZQkFD3vMR62MsXk4VrfKRvDrw2D1RSRhfs8cLsfvvsW_PyPaC0Eut93EkmMjNlcVxHR6JkgXK4nfhov90HC8Gf5SKnkDUxpus/s1600/IMGP0846.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="424" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgjsuwqBmebOEQcaSsgMg6aOzP-TBvaKho-b0gRTIKZsyoZQkFD3vMR62MsXk4VrfKRvDrw2D1RSRhfs8cLsfvvsW_PyPaC0Eut93EkmMjNlcVxHR6JkgXK4nfhov90HC8Gf5SKnkDUxpus/s640/IMGP0846.jpg" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">"Thank you, mom for having me and making me nice cupcakes. I really enjoyed the frosting."</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEggeRdPPzuKo2qM1zkwCLaLnx5o_guYg2mjgG7ZlC0_FYcSOeP5unbm_pBOE1TFo2fSM_ddFqMkJtbZmTRQsn26w9Cc0b0IoHpkY7EPdaG13MKIN_40mkfYxGMOtNoOBb4lSXQfFrCIuS_-/s1600/Image+87.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEggeRdPPzuKo2qM1zkwCLaLnx5o_guYg2mjgG7ZlC0_FYcSOeP5unbm_pBOE1TFo2fSM_ddFqMkJtbZmTRQsn26w9Cc0b0IoHpkY7EPdaG13MKIN_40mkfYxGMOtNoOBb4lSXQfFrCIuS_-/s640/Image+87.jpg" width="478" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">This isn't a birthday picture, but it just makes me smile. It's her first time in a swing and her face is so funny scrunched up like that. Plus, it kind of looks like she's swinging in the nude. I love her fat legs and chubby arms.</td></tr>
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<br />JLJhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16748662196055415831noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5506100987527445593.post-20256142696480485702013-08-16T14:24:00.001-07:002013-08-16T14:24:17.927-07:00Farewell to a bright soul<div class="separator" style="clear: both;">
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About two weeks before my grandmother passed away my family spent a few minutes alone with her in her hospital room. Even though I knew her body was failing it didn't really sink in until I saw her in her bed, looking feeble and tired, that I would be saying Goodbye. My stomach clenched up and I felt a bit of panic, knowing how important the next 15 minutes would be. How do you say Goodbye? How can you communicate a lifetime of love and significance in a few words?<br />
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I wished I could give her comfort - she would be going somewhere new very soon, and having new experiences. Who wouldn't feel a little nervous? I wanted to summarize her influence in my life. Had I ever told her how important she was to me? I wanted her to comfort me, to share with me her warmth and humor and wisdom one more time. I wanted to soak in her voice, the way she said my name; her eyes, their particular brown hue; her hands, her crippled fingers; the feel of her always-smooth skin.<br />
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It wasn't enough time, but it was all I had.<br />
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She took a moment to hug and talk to each of my children, listening patiently as they went on and on. Privately, I was hurrying them. They didn't know how precious each minute was. But I wanted them to remember this day and their feelings, so I didn't rush them.<br />
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Finally, Spouse took the children out of the room to give me some time alone. I took her small hand and stroked her almost translusent skin. These hands crocheted me a matching skirt and sweater set when I was eight. She crocheted me many sweaters over the years. I remember one that I couldn't get over my head because the neck was too small! Where are all those precious things now? Why didn't I keep even one? How did she make so many things with arthritis in her thumbs?<br />
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"I love you Grandma. I'm going to miss you."<br />
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"I'm going to miss you too, Jen. But I'm going to be watching over you. That will be me over your shoulder telling you what to do."<br />
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"You are so special to me Grandma. You have made me happy in so many ways."<br />
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"You are special to me too, Jen. I love you."<br />
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I put my cheek next to hers and felt her familiar softness. I breathed in deeply, trying to inhale her scent, to keep it with me. I kissed her head and she kissed my cheek.<br />
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I looked at her for another moment. Her eyes were looking up at me. They looked hopeful, peaceful. Ready.<br />
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Down the hallway there was a private place with chairs and a big window overlooking the Salt Lake Valley to the west. I sat there processing, grieving. Through my tears I watched a commuter train stop and people get on and off. In the distance the Oquirrh Mountains stood tall, creating shadows. Green trees filled the valley. An airplane was climbing into the sky.<br />
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I thought of my grandmother, just down the hall, sharing this view with me and wondered how it might feel to say goodbye to this life, to this earthly home - this marvelous earth and sublime life experience.<br />
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Life is so good. It is hard and terrible. It is beautiful and heart-breaking. The earth is a wonder - pulsing with power and energy. The smallest particles are miraculous.<br />
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I hope to be like my grandmother. I hope to be able to say goodbye to earth with honor, having worked and struggled and sacrificed but having found joy. Joy in relationships, nature and God. I hope to leave this earth a little brighter.<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgrcotgXfpw8iaKrS7nJFdtrlc8IPUhuoa4ZE2kHpZHt1Dt2-QYErwdhaOIA9jbsuI4yiBcEeaLWSOiu_F2PhRmcOeGwdmtdDttEDKlFB01XC02LfXP4BPRu81W9UDCvbyuYgj4F47OiWiJ/s1600/IMGP8778.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="424" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgrcotgXfpw8iaKrS7nJFdtrlc8IPUhuoa4ZE2kHpZHt1Dt2-QYErwdhaOIA9jbsuI4yiBcEeaLWSOiu_F2PhRmcOeGwdmtdDttEDKlFB01XC02LfXP4BPRu81W9UDCvbyuYgj4F47OiWiJ/s640/IMGP8778.JPG" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Here is Grandma last October, meeting Baby E</td></tr>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">July, 2005 at her home in Germantown, Ohio. </td></tr>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">I love this picture because this is how I remember her most, laughing! October 2004, Ohio</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg8NLU4uPA3e21_AYQHhOuJBqIf5tJIQTazEUzsxA_uzh3iT37mDWDy7HNg-t06FNsCtHAdadTmMLxucBADaIAfdVddpB5cub2NnpeIvmZJuK8RKJn9HNXcE3p6s3gWVfVdph-K2GtP5knH/s1600/DSC01633.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="480" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg8NLU4uPA3e21_AYQHhOuJBqIf5tJIQTazEUzsxA_uzh3iT37mDWDy7HNg-t06FNsCtHAdadTmMLxucBADaIAfdVddpB5cub2NnpeIvmZJuK8RKJn9HNXcE3p6s3gWVfVdph-K2GtP5knH/s640/DSC01633.JPG" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">This 2004 trip to Ohio is a special memory for me. I got Grandma all to myself! </td></tr>
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<br />JLJhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16748662196055415831noreply@blogger.com5tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5506100987527445593.post-84619276705164633212013-08-10T09:48:00.001-07:002013-08-10T09:48:24.042-07:00More Utah fun: Lagoon!<div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><br></div>After all of our years of spending summers in Utah, we had somehow neglected to introduce our children to Lagoon. This summer I wasn't pregnant and all of my older kids were tall enough to ride anything they wanted; it was time. <div><br></div><div>I left Baby E in Logan with my sister and mom and took my niece and nephew with us to meet my other sister and her children at Lagoon! </div><div><br></div><div>I hadn't been to Lagoon for 18 years and I remembered it being hot and dirty. Kind of like an expensive carnival. I was happily surprised to find it clean, beautifully landscaped and lots of shade. There were a few of the old carnival style rides I remembered but most of the rides were newer and really nice. </div><div><br></div><div>I discovered early on in our day that I've lost all my nerve. I'm basically a spectator now. So sad! I used to love exciting rides. Now I'm just a nauseated, nervous wreck. </div><div><br></div><div>My kids were crazy with courage. There was almost nothing they weren't too scared to try. </div><div><br></div><div>It was fun to share the experience with cousins. I loved watching them run off a ride together laughing and recounting their thrills, then plotting their next move. </div><div><br></div><div>It was a day of memories. A happy, happy day. </div><div><br></div><div><br></div><div><br></div><div><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhmBRSb1HWMTmKCbwcfup-3K205oMKpuqFi1bEELQTeEdeaBsBXQFvh8Z1BgN17zShc5yO0aK8c1yGae1s9mww-k7HRXym6unG-tevy6eHGwfg4PAttsILwcgGRS-DkEBEiKYVt_mHQTBx7/s640/blogger-image--101906564.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="-webkit-tap-highlight-color: rgba(26, 26, 26, 0.296875); -webkit-composition-fill-color: rgba(175, 192, 227, 0.230469); -webkit-composition-frame-color: rgba(77, 128, 180, 0.230469); margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em; "><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhmBRSb1HWMTmKCbwcfup-3K205oMKpuqFi1bEELQTeEdeaBsBXQFvh8Z1BgN17zShc5yO0aK8c1yGae1s9mww-k7HRXym6unG-tevy6eHGwfg4PAttsILwcgGRS-DkEBEiKYVt_mHQTBx7/s640/blogger-image--101906564.jpg"></a></div><div><br><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjHPBysdXqYG0ny_3eP39aHmdMgYR4ZCt7Mby0NKbDgNTRRW-MxfZ4bNbXRjDn-BiZ02KHUTAOJoQh195eBhHD3Vbgh5pWDEEsnE7Quj-esXQyVMi1Pz2gI_oicbYhWJQlv4NwVs_b36twY/s640/blogger-image-409736164.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjHPBysdXqYG0ny_3eP39aHmdMgYR4ZCt7Mby0NKbDgNTRRW-MxfZ4bNbXRjDn-BiZ02KHUTAOJoQh195eBhHD3Vbgh5pWDEEsnE7Quj-esXQyVMi1Pz2gI_oicbYhWJQlv4NwVs_b36twY/s640/blogger-image-409736164.jpg"></a></div></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><br></div><div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhLOiUUEQI6Tvnb8BrghF_MI1UZFBFDTQ1d-TyIJ4_44e8eOakGviDoXHyrq4a1gVTMpUls-dfzMg0VapyInFcTtvkn07grRP6u5vTasYe8er7_TD35v5twOWbos28GOmPL6Y406oZHLzOC/s640/blogger-image--2136116197.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhLOiUUEQI6Tvnb8BrghF_MI1UZFBFDTQ1d-TyIJ4_44e8eOakGviDoXHyrq4a1gVTMpUls-dfzMg0VapyInFcTtvkn07grRP6u5vTasYe8er7_TD35v5twOWbos28GOmPL6Y406oZHLzOC/s640/blogger-image--2136116197.jpg"></a></div><br></div><div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEinYDQ21BcUc6Wk_xFqwPwmP4gjAzoOn4s-5rgk4DFgEclKy6JMXYWzVTtcakGnasmDukAOA-gklIawoYG2TAVleC3v_raCXwAkb5Dr2GpAVgppdrCjFbdT9AgwHLO3t7RAdHOd_86axk_F/s640/blogger-image--420559105.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEinYDQ21BcUc6Wk_xFqwPwmP4gjAzoOn4s-5rgk4DFgEclKy6JMXYWzVTtcakGnasmDukAOA-gklIawoYG2TAVleC3v_raCXwAkb5Dr2GpAVgppdrCjFbdT9AgwHLO3t7RAdHOd_86axk_F/s640/blogger-image--420559105.jpg"></a></div><br></div>JLJhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16748662196055415831noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5506100987527445593.post-25595158538761352832013-08-09T07:00:00.000-07:002013-08-09T07:00:03.528-07:00Summer Memories from Utah Almost a week ago, on Friday, August 2nd I was driving my four children back to our desert home after a month in the mountains of Utah. Admittedly, I was feeling down. Yes, I was going to miss our families, the shady trees and blooming flowers, a break from the daily domestic grind but at that moment all I could think of was my dread of returning to the awful Phoenix HEAT!! Ugh! <br />
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Today, I'm putting off showering and the compulsory hair drying which I detest because it just makes me sweat and puts me a rotten mood, and I'm going to take a walk down our Utah memories lane.<br />
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<b>Provo, Utah 4th of July Fireworks viewed from the lawn by the Harmon Building</b>.<br />
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">This area of lawn has been in our family for many 4th of July years. I remember rolling down this hill when I was about Buster's age. </td></tr>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">#3 and Nana putting together some glow bracelets.</td></tr>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">I'm catching up with my cool brother in law while holding sleeping Baby E. That poor girl had had such a rough day, not a minute of sleep until she finally zonked out in my arms around 10:00 pm. </td></tr>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">The first thing Buster wanted to do was show Papa the new moves he had just learned at wrestling camp. </td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg1EliTOrnaD6aMN3p2WxwNXKLoeDe2txKxvKxS2bmyhSFA-dRyqNcoFR6RJfySHMSGcE-KqNS4tVpZCPQmw2pvwFyR5hPS73grNEtbrzunhnUyzHfIu19vhHggvTg0rSMQoHV95sEdbg8U/s1600/IMGP0378.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="424" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg1EliTOrnaD6aMN3p2WxwNXKLoeDe2txKxvKxS2bmyhSFA-dRyqNcoFR6RJfySHMSGcE-KqNS4tVpZCPQmw2pvwFyR5hPS73grNEtbrzunhnUyzHfIu19vhHggvTg0rSMQoHV95sEdbg8U/s640/IMGP0378.jpg" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">#1 and Papa riding home, 4th of July style, in the back of the truck</td></tr>
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<b>Sandy, UT July 5th extended reunion with cousins from my Dad's family </b><br />
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My extended family gets together every other year but I haven't ever been able to attend one of these reunions. It was so fun to see my cousins and their children! The reunion was held at this wonderful park in my cousin's private neighborhood. There was lots of good food, swimming and organized games.<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjl3zrwyY54W9BigfJnwFqAtgEFRY0k_fdl9Z0nbUTX8GOLVdluXmjMejAxDy8ITsBPhjj9Eqp9LifiXSQuClC-vEogrr74YfjeAUs9BWlRcFs_bO7HaZGX5EraViCmya1Lvr-rX1m8QRLR/s1600/IMGP0403.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="424" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjl3zrwyY54W9BigfJnwFqAtgEFRY0k_fdl9Z0nbUTX8GOLVdluXmjMejAxDy8ITsBPhjj9Eqp9LifiXSQuClC-vEogrr74YfjeAUs9BWlRcFs_bO7HaZGX5EraViCmya1Lvr-rX1m8QRLR/s640/IMGP0403.jpg" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Here's #1 completing the obstacle course competition. It was hard! But she did awesome!</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgHyYneb4YlvqlkuvH7uDiX0M_WiFZi1xC2dopWU5wWmIICPDiYG4xoi5bpCf2CA1AmCgOA2SvU-fK9OvEwreHU3rB44jdb5WuwNMHFzzvcj72C_3rFKta7xg_m_9zRZqcMCP0Y7iOUuzXk/s1600/IMGP0405.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="424" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgHyYneb4YlvqlkuvH7uDiX0M_WiFZi1xC2dopWU5wWmIICPDiYG4xoi5bpCf2CA1AmCgOA2SvU-fK9OvEwreHU3rB44jdb5WuwNMHFzzvcj72C_3rFKta7xg_m_9zRZqcMCP0Y7iOUuzXk/s640/IMGP0405.jpg" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Spouse and Baby E waiting for dinner.</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgC7qIocP6fmNw9hr2rG5bqfVjhcgQPI4a8P8gm_YhQiQ-5HoxGa1ucuKTsE6EsK0z1dFFRkma0nGbdcfc_tkSJq-BJCYKndVWcSzAuqE0TLXr8eSmCa0xDu9rW2Q5vcLe_-Its4kXN1mem/s1600/IMGP0416.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="424" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgC7qIocP6fmNw9hr2rG5bqfVjhcgQPI4a8P8gm_YhQiQ-5HoxGa1ucuKTsE6EsK0z1dFFRkma0nGbdcfc_tkSJq-BJCYKndVWcSzAuqE0TLXr8eSmCa0xDu9rW2Q5vcLe_-Its4kXN1mem/s640/IMGP0416.jpg" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Buster waiting in line with some cousins to do his world famous, huge cannon-ball!</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgUZnvPHXgxieyEU7KsrV6i5uzoshsCZYAj7GRZv-QK59UxYZdRB1_LZkFtQBb-wJ5ye-U56kB_vbYJKM1fOMZITD1J-QjYcFMe-RIwca__JuTfDLKSUoExz_SO08QpVAOim_vWz8FZeXqa/s1600/IMGP0439.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="424" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgUZnvPHXgxieyEU7KsrV6i5uzoshsCZYAj7GRZv-QK59UxYZdRB1_LZkFtQBb-wJ5ye-U56kB_vbYJKM1fOMZITD1J-QjYcFMe-RIwca__JuTfDLKSUoExz_SO08QpVAOim_vWz8FZeXqa/s640/IMGP0439.jpg" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Buster and #2 digging into their pinata loot with some 2nd cousins.</td><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><br /></td></tr>
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<b> July 9-14 Logan, UT my family reunion</b><br />
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My siblings (minus 1 :( ) and our families gathered at my parents home for a week of togetherness. There was lots of trampoline jumping, playing at the park, Aggie ice cream and 4 wheeler rides. Each day we had one or two organized activities. Some of these included a fun run, water games at the park, the 2nd annual family dance!, a service project at the pioneer cemetery. We also spent a day at Spouse's family cabin riding four wheelers, roasting marshmallows and competing in a billiards tournament. We took a day to visit my grandmother in the hospital in Salt Lake City and then tour Temple Square. <br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj8yr3xndi1i6qLgQ8wXQZ0UdufRTVQ5u4Hg8eJQ-lg5MZT6a6sAsXCyuT2JshS4Y9KAgeGsgqOFuPmrKC8eGYgznvy_OQuWvYm0OIy2qLa5Yu8L90SoFIgWBPKvVedzx318WrbjUZYFEco/s1600/IMGP0450.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="424" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj8yr3xndi1i6qLgQ8wXQZ0UdufRTVQ5u4Hg8eJQ-lg5MZT6a6sAsXCyuT2JshS4Y9KAgeGsgqOFuPmrKC8eGYgznvy_OQuWvYm0OIy2qLa5Yu8L90SoFIgWBPKvVedzx318WrbjUZYFEco/s640/IMGP0450.jpg" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">#3 and cousin Joph-fes</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj7HwaFfyJxBbCG_hVulriHDY4_kIIFDFVwVOD9tBTtFFeKwHmm1kCoH1dm_lX3J3dEahrWDLgxe12nZD0aqgHgyHY6bY7gbqhqChMpb06HuubaKdZU2GL7nA_MqEIFu1WGYcbz0L80MV06/s1600/IMGP0442.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj7HwaFfyJxBbCG_hVulriHDY4_kIIFDFVwVOD9tBTtFFeKwHmm1kCoH1dm_lX3J3dEahrWDLgxe12nZD0aqgHgyHY6bY7gbqhqChMpb06HuubaKdZU2GL7nA_MqEIFu1WGYcbz0L80MV06/s640/IMGP0442.jpg" width="424" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">One day I was looking all over for Buster, calling for him. I finally found him tucked away in the library reading "Battles of Freedom." He was so engrossed, I didn't want to disturb him so I took this picture through the glass door. He loves military histories. </td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiPCmcxur7lx4g-viinCuDdignsrZZ6-2dKBYimc8DLU0hVZc7b6HqJcyyxpHTPopqpzwdrqrYbcj8gO-DznRBg9eh5bvyNBZIKP-5OpvoH7KORFGaZtMcdTBXYFj2fk3W0Ea-dCkl6o9A0/s1600/IMGP0460.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="424" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiPCmcxur7lx4g-viinCuDdignsrZZ6-2dKBYimc8DLU0hVZc7b6HqJcyyxpHTPopqpzwdrqrYbcj8gO-DznRBg9eh5bvyNBZIKP-5OpvoH7KORFGaZtMcdTBXYFj2fk3W0Ea-dCkl6o9A0/s640/IMGP0460.jpg" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Family Fun Run! It was a mile for most of the kids or 2 miles for the older boys. My nephew on the right of this picture was the first to come in. He ran the two miles faster than anyone ran the one mile: 13 minutes. And that is with a lot of hills! I was impressed. </td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhbQZLJcVjAol15GOetCFq4QZQz3xv4DSi1BZvKialsB5HTwODn_voItJAK-uG5lR81PMvEU5SnMLoC35LvBO3LcygInHlQn6LEh2qn56iSiPPpccYCHFquHSgkR-dze8G9j_4B5wmGJbdr/s1600/IMGP0470.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="424" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhbQZLJcVjAol15GOetCFq4QZQz3xv4DSi1BZvKialsB5HTwODn_voItJAK-uG5lR81PMvEU5SnMLoC35LvBO3LcygInHlQn6LEh2qn56iSiPPpccYCHFquHSgkR-dze8G9j_4B5wmGJbdr/s640/IMGP0470.jpg" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">#1 and her cousin racing into the finish line! </td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEho8ex1v7vxtwphUUgSBNWnBYIQ4H2ISHaBm6RNff7-wdCwV-AV87wdyLVf2wrZwCTFrvRKwDrvZ8PewXf6kTx4e65kOSuwqCmxLoiLYrczrhXimRzwuKZrPqGDUuTNZYn7OZnTsJO4JP0G/s1600/IMGP0473.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="424" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEho8ex1v7vxtwphUUgSBNWnBYIQ4H2ISHaBm6RNff7-wdCwV-AV87wdyLVf2wrZwCTFrvRKwDrvZ8PewXf6kTx4e65kOSuwqCmxLoiLYrczrhXimRzwuKZrPqGDUuTNZYn7OZnTsJO4JP0G/s640/IMGP0473.jpg" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Buster really wanted to beat Joph-fess!</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh6uMwbyUFmbugejXQxwaTSLlIesICJQVhBj1_Lr-cQal4mNEJb-tRznNnV9Xd9JHdQ3k1xYxdT7kc3mi8_VMH0wVO1T4-f0tKuWfMu3CwhYJSflH4WMIIm1yxEAlqZI0kZXoNz03_j47Nh/s1600/IMGP0492.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="424" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh6uMwbyUFmbugejXQxwaTSLlIesICJQVhBj1_Lr-cQal4mNEJb-tRznNnV9Xd9JHdQ3k1xYxdT7kc3mi8_VMH0wVO1T4-f0tKuWfMu3CwhYJSflH4WMIIm1yxEAlqZI0kZXoNz03_j47Nh/s640/IMGP0492.jpg" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Fresh donuts are the best reward after a grueling one-miler :)</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh0_qUxN49U9bdHc0yvqYMWYF6JZycWSo8st7t_y_bJPsPm16KwssK8RoxYcbBvT-ygY9rdg2H6DmqYzz0o3l6Mske7M0gg7e7hq-ZXH2bdDMAuzHLOOqiRB8HLZkj57mHtCQv72aPCV-tD/s1600/IMGP0507.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="424" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh0_qUxN49U9bdHc0yvqYMWYF6JZycWSo8st7t_y_bJPsPm16KwssK8RoxYcbBvT-ygY9rdg2H6DmqYzz0o3l6Mske7M0gg7e7hq-ZXH2bdDMAuzHLOOqiRB8HLZkj57mHtCQv72aPCV-tD/s640/IMGP0507.jpg" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">#1 and her Papa</td></tr>
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<table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: left; margin-right: 1em; text-align: left;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhPuRLGFF9vz1wKL90RY6PAS-NTcazhahTAwYKamio3RWfYcWhTxLuMZYmrYifZqSuCHA7dAUvFUiaRg9yKMTZ9ZJKq61f3sDEj62ngsKYTXghIMOzd-ubvRNf6VetErL5bAUDtzh00N_SM/s1600/IMGP0500.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="424" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhPuRLGFF9vz1wKL90RY6PAS-NTcazhahTAwYKamio3RWfYcWhTxLuMZYmrYifZqSuCHA7dAUvFUiaRg9yKMTZ9ZJKq61f3sDEj62ngsKYTXghIMOzd-ubvRNf6VetErL5bAUDtzh00N_SM/s640/IMGP0500.jpg" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Nana, Spouse and Baby E, post race. I gave Spouse a free pass on the run since he helped me get the music, tables and water set up. </td></tr>
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<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEihZsNVE1BOaeoeEnBGIxwJaz8Ab85ptZ2wVoK0Ds3W-aGl0m34lCvkUpcKVoCR2It5I2_bmbkw-TdNl61jSn2DKFlCb3SZF_iYQzi8Uefj8S3d7TnuKP3vEP-XR67oqMzf4Y5Mc74GBJlz/s1600/IMGP0514.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="424" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEihZsNVE1BOaeoeEnBGIxwJaz8Ab85ptZ2wVoK0Ds3W-aGl0m34lCvkUpcKVoCR2It5I2_bmbkw-TdNl61jSn2DKFlCb3SZF_iYQzi8Uefj8S3d7TnuKP3vEP-XR67oqMzf4Y5Mc74GBJlz/s640/IMGP0514.jpg" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">My nephew Zack on the 4 wheeler at the cabin in Logan Canyon</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjKzERu9cripiFIfRcUJ63_phodX7cKTNTMezfAVTpE8GeNYqw3abui5zGDRXTXT-m8OCY0JYSPPF3W8FUH7TAwkKc3DjtoMpWEDeh5Vq_XvCNn97OsXPtOm4AL7oXo_LnhdwwKvuxujwaD/s1600/IMGP0517.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="424" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjKzERu9cripiFIfRcUJ63_phodX7cKTNTMezfAVTpE8GeNYqw3abui5zGDRXTXT-m8OCY0JYSPPF3W8FUH7TAwkKc3DjtoMpWEDeh5Vq_XvCNn97OsXPtOm4AL7oXo_LnhdwwKvuxujwaD/s640/IMGP0517.jpg" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">"This is hot, don't touch it!"</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjo4vBGIjMdiD2SY9FTXjwHiwQUmZ-Qazt789pMp5v3J0Ni9IqlPGxsSL13G36-ZT2Ysaf4a3uMfNqMDAcrzxg1lkvnSxXR5avUiZLjL5GREkXkNr5IisMxbHXnOOwovA8zjgpvPt3JB4o8/s1600/IMGP0522.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjo4vBGIjMdiD2SY9FTXjwHiwQUmZ-Qazt789pMp5v3J0Ni9IqlPGxsSL13G36-ZT2Ysaf4a3uMfNqMDAcrzxg1lkvnSxXR5avUiZLjL5GREkXkNr5IisMxbHXnOOwovA8zjgpvPt3JB4o8/s640/IMGP0522.jpg" width="424" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">All these years coming to Utah, I've never taken my kids to Temple Square. So glad to have remedied that. But I think we need to come again next year and plan to spend a lot more time. </td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjrNe4ZWHzX4AOs8Eq702WF1MwLzrIr7pPqcGaIA8aham74ij_DIUMGO2HhdGkRQJitsrttSkuUbJJ5yIuQGgqeASDRhb0KCYWr8IIBtPjUL0VAX4JtDAc1RlGh342PZVlh01fAU9ffBdx0/s1600/IMGP0534.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="424" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjrNe4ZWHzX4AOs8Eq702WF1MwLzrIr7pPqcGaIA8aham74ij_DIUMGO2HhdGkRQJitsrttSkuUbJJ5yIuQGgqeASDRhb0KCYWr8IIBtPjUL0VAX4JtDAc1RlGh342PZVlh01fAU9ffBdx0/s640/IMGP0534.jpg" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">The Conference Center roof was really cool. But actually it was really hot up there. </td></tr>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">#3 and her cousins at the Children's exhibit in the Church History Museum. That's another place I could have spent another hour. </td></tr>
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<b> July 15-21 Bear Lake with Spouse's family</b><br />
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This is a week my children love and look forward to with great anticipation. They love running free with their cousins. Making little trips to the resort store for ice-cream, jaw breakers and candy. They love the beach and boating. They love going to the Pickleville shows and go-karting. They love making a Bear Lake t-shirt every year. <br />
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">I told #1 I bet she could climb to the top of the "difficult" coconut tree in 15 seconds. She did it in 16! </td></tr>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">#1 and #3 will cousins out on the deck trying to pick up the weak wi-fi signal. </td></tr>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Early morning scooter ride</td></tr>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Digging ponds is hard work!</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjAxueQxYkDSRX825sZxJ6BYtA3QkH8Et3RxxZHwD5Noa3amnXayuLbwdr7jidTPCsBQ3ToJKVuG2OWNW-Ix8FNFQSngQfOSXBLsSaQy1tqGQi3YdTzkY43RaAN9L_9XVak7l4wVBPmwWbJ/s1600/IMGP0632.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="424" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjAxueQxYkDSRX825sZxJ6BYtA3QkH8Et3RxxZHwD5Noa3amnXayuLbwdr7jidTPCsBQ3ToJKVuG2OWNW-Ix8FNFQSngQfOSXBLsSaQy1tqGQi3YdTzkY43RaAN9L_9XVak7l4wVBPmwWbJ/s640/IMGP0632.jpg" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Baby E loved being on the beach and digging in the sand. She also loved to eat the sand. </td></tr>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">I remember #3 as a baby and pushing her in the baby swing of this very swing set. </td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEidqt3WMeg9T5BTeUN-rkqCkp7a01MUUqm66oyUv9Ve3UUviXtICnMl8obk8nBj2uK-Au2vbZUf24cFh4dXTsVhIONsTKbn8zHjO1F_FSd5ujlxorwT5GU1vY1matRvvMii6SK5WrZH6HJ1/s1600/IMGP0669.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEidqt3WMeg9T5BTeUN-rkqCkp7a01MUUqm66oyUv9Ve3UUviXtICnMl8obk8nBj2uK-Au2vbZUf24cFh4dXTsVhIONsTKbn8zHjO1F_FSd5ujlxorwT5GU1vY1matRvvMii6SK5WrZH6HJ1/s640/IMGP0669.jpg" width="424" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Cute cousin Matthew helping Baby E take some steps</td></tr>
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Utah photos and memories to be continued...</div>
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<br />JLJhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16748662196055415831noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5506100987527445593.post-26876013155437979772013-08-07T10:44:00.000-07:002013-08-07T10:44:14.801-07:001st day of School, 2013 editionMy 5th grader is feeling confident and happy to be an upperclassman at her elementary school. She is excited to learn to play the bass in the school orchestra and ready to take on the challenge of ALP math. Baby E (#4) is going to miss her 2nd mama while she's at school all day. <br />
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhXeBenaZiYO-t0mnU5WSP7jZ0OD_u9B7G5HUlN_VbXfqOHK27DVAwGs1mFy-hD5bAbm4poJ_5x5gPLJxa2HaYLba4wYFHBwOTFdi4DKqKOBF6NZEDysrxOZlEl4FLbVCL-J9EB6VJ8ikEn/s1600/IMGP0698.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" height="424" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhXeBenaZiYO-t0mnU5WSP7jZ0OD_u9B7G5HUlN_VbXfqOHK27DVAwGs1mFy-hD5bAbm4poJ_5x5gPLJxa2HaYLba4wYFHBwOTFdi4DKqKOBF6NZEDysrxOZlEl4FLbVCL-J9EB6VJ8ikEn/s640/IMGP0698.jpg" width="640" /></a><br /><br />
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Buster, my 3rd grader, is looking forward to getting back to friends and fun things like PE and sports at recess. Although a good student, he would much prefer to play all year and isn't exactly thrilled to be sitting in class all day again. I have to admit, I'm not exactly thrilled to start the after-school homework routine either. <br />
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My 1st grader is starting all-day school. She's nervous about following the rules and not getting in trouble in her new class. I hope she'll grow confident quickly and enjoy making new friends. One thing she's really excited about: Specials! Music, art, PE and most of all, library! <br />
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Baby E's down for a nap and our house is quiet and empty. I'm missing my birdies and looking forward to 3:30 when my nest will be full again. <br />
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JLJhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16748662196055415831noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5506100987527445593.post-38624260957116697412013-06-30T20:27:00.001-07:002013-07-01T13:04:28.206-07:00Mom-high: Euphoric feeling resulting from intense pride and love for your child<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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When #1 received an invitation to participate in the National American Miss pageant I thought she'd laugh at the idea. #1 is not a girly girl. She loves black and red, reading about dragons and studying birds. She hates pink and looking too pretty. She's not a cheerleader or dancer and typically avoids the spotlight.<br />
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I was surprised when #1 told me she wanted to try out. Believe me, I was more than skeptical. I asked her to think and pray about it and we'd talk about it in a few days.<br />
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I spent some time researching National American Miss and pageants in general. It seemed to be a legitimate group with tons of praise all over the internet from previous participants. I tried to resist my instinctual repulsion of pageantry and look for facts in an objective way.<br />
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I concluded that if #1 wanted to be in a pageant, National American Miss was probably the least objectionable for these reasons: 1) #1 had been tagged because of her academics 2) No swimsuit competition, no talent competition, and no make up allowed for her age group 3) judging would be based upon presentation, poise and confidence, not beauty or fashion.<br />
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#1 sent in her application and was given a try-out date a few weeks later. After her audition (which was 5 minute interview), she was told to expect either a letter of rejection or a phone call of acceptance within 10 days. Until then I hadn't realized how much #1 really wanted to do this. She anxiously went to the mail box and jumped whenever the phone rang. Eight days went by and disappointment settled in. It was day 10 when she received a phone call that made her very, very happy.<br />
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Before I could commit to helping her I needed #1 to understand my worries: that she view this competition as a learning experience and not as a measure of her value or worth. We talked about the things she could learn like confidence, responsibility and a chance to be an example of her values. She heartily agreed and promised to not pin her heart or her self esteem on winning.<br />
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So we started preparing.<br />
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She needed to raise A LOT of money. #1 designed an advertisement and gathered orders for homemade cookies which she baked and packaged herself. She made and distributed a flyer asking for soda cans for recycling. Over the last four months she made regular trips on her bike collecting the cans, then consolidated them at home for weekly trips to the recycling center.<br />
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She also wrote letters to family members asking them to help sponsor her. Any money she received from her report card or in Easter eggs or from the tooth fairy went into her pageant jar.<br />
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I was not looking forward to shopping for dresses. She would need a dress for the formal wear competition and a dress for the interview and personal introduction competitions. I already mentioned that #1 hates pink. She also hates ruffles, sequins, flowers, sparkles... pretty much anything one would wear at a pageant. Modesty was another factor that would temper our dress shopping. And even though her Grandma had offered to pay for her dress, I was not excited to spend a lot of money on a one-time-wear dress.<br />
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I felt a little better after we attended a NAM workshop. They encouraged the girls to look for age appropriate dresses that weren't over-the-top fancy. Just nice dresses they could wear to church.<br />
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One trip to Macy's and we left with two modest, black and white, non-ruffly, non-sequiny, marked-down dresses. #1 loved them and it couldn't have been easier. What a relief!<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEho-M5qPTqDbl7obPeYMVC8FCIcfe89XeILM6jLeoujuVVFPy-LFsTsxZh3OiCib-GzF0oW3QWrheLoMVgl7fLfeWwn-6rTW-kSo-JAD9c0xKrKinrFgAhwZ0gv0QL2LcmNWwsULLH2AU64/s1600/IMGP0275.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="424" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEho-M5qPTqDbl7obPeYMVC8FCIcfe89XeILM6jLeoujuVVFPy-LFsTsxZh3OiCib-GzF0oW3QWrheLoMVgl7fLfeWwn-6rTW-kSo-JAD9c0xKrKinrFgAhwZ0gv0QL2LcmNWwsULLH2AU64/s640/IMGP0275.jpg" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Spouse escorting #1 in the formal wear modeling competition</td></tr>
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We attended a training session where #1 was taught how to model her formal dress, how to sit prettily in her interview, how to hold a microphone and look judges in the eye. It was essentially a two hour clinic in posture and poise.<br />
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I really appreciated this training. Etiquette and polite posture isn't taught anywhere if it isn't taught by your mother. Although contemporary culture doesn't support the idea, acting like a lady is still very important. Sitting up straight, crossing your ankles and looking someone in the eye shows self respect and asks for it from others. I was happy that #1 was able to have these values reinforced. <br />
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This past month #1 wrote, re-wrote and memorized her personal introduction. We practiced hundred of interview questions. She wrote, edited and polished her resume. I watched hair tutorials on YouTube.<br />
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Finally, pageant weekend arrived.<br />
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It was a hectic two days for me. I juggled babysitters for kids at home, rehearsal and competition schedules with clothing changes and hair touch ups, drives to and from the hotel with traffic, all while trying to keep my nervous girl upbeat and relaxed. I'm not ashamed to admit it: I'm so happy it's over!<br />
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Friday #1 rehearsed for and competed in the formal wear competition. Spouse donned his suit and walked her into the spotlight as her escort. She walked slowly and kept her eyes on the judges and turned her head just right. I knew she was nervous by the way she was smiling and from her tight shoulders. But she was beautiful and perfect. Mom-high.<br />
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Saturday morning before the personal introduction and interview competitions #1 was nervous. She was stressed and snapped at me a few times. On stage she spoke in her super high, super nervous voice and mixed up some of her lines. Instead of getting flustered or running off the stage in tears, as some of the other contestants did, she gracefully ended her introduction and exited the stage. I told her afterwards that she and I were the only ones who knew it hadn't gone as planned.<br />
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">#1, from Gilbert, AZ giving her 30 second personal introduction</td></tr>
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#1 loved the interview portion. She burst out of the room beaming a big, relaxed smile. I knew she would do well interviewing. She is mature, articulate and probably has a broader vocabulary than the judges. She was relieved because the judging components were over.<br />
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Waiting for rehearsal, making friends</td></tr>
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The rest of the day was spent rehearsing for the production number (ie: group dance) and staging for the final pageant. In the breaks we grabbed some lunch and #1 decompressed playing on her iPhone.<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhXVhR_hY8VFObZP5yie6BMq21fDsSE3YbbWe_ZYt2UK_Dj4bM1_1T0oMz4cbRFvI4jhW7crrGsjpVxejWMlK5U5snttvQ9SSeKmSnXCOHM1GmIg50OUdwlx7rtcZunuYumNg_xgspFicdV/s1600/IMGP0293.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="422" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhXVhR_hY8VFObZP5yie6BMq21fDsSE3YbbWe_ZYt2UK_Dj4bM1_1T0oMz4cbRFvI4jhW7crrGsjpVxejWMlK5U5snttvQ9SSeKmSnXCOHM1GmIg50OUdwlx7rtcZunuYumNg_xgspFicdV/s640/IMGP0293.jpg" width="640" /> </a></td><td style="text-align: center;"></td><td style="text-align: center;"></td><td style="text-align: center;"></td><td style="text-align: center;"></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Goofing off in between rehearsals</td><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"></td><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"></td><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"></td><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"></td><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"></td><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"></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><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><br /></td></tr>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">my attempt at the waterfall braid</td></tr>
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I was anxious to see how #1 would handle the production number. She does not love dancing and she struggles to feel rhythm. I'm looking for a kind way to say, she cannot dance. <br />
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She did great. Really. For a girl who can't keep a beat, she held her own. She kept looking at me and smiling like, "what the heck am I doing up here?" I loved it!<br />
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">#1 getting her groove on</td></tr>
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She changed into her formal dress and was presented on stage again with her state finalist trophy. All the girls stayed on stage while the semi-finalists and winners were announced.<br />
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#'1's age group was tricky. It was called pre-teen for girls from 10-12. However, many of the girls had turned 13 after the January 1st deadline had passed. So #1 was one of the youngest, if not the youngest, in her division. Her age group would have been more appropriately divided by "developed" and "undeveloped." She was on stage with some very womanly looking 13 year olds!<br />
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Accepting her trophy and taking her place with the group</td></tr>
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At the conclusion I went backstage to find #1 and found a I'd stepped into a weeping zone. Poor, broken-hearted. "pre-teens" everywhere! I worried maybe #1 was one of the criers, waiting for my comfort. Just then I felt a tug on my arm and turned to see the happiest, most fulfilled face of my sweet #1. She was beaming! We hugged and I told her how proud and happy I was for her.<br />
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Mom-high.<br />
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Spouse took us to the Sugar Bowl (#1's choice) for dinner and ice cream. We talked about our observations and #1 told us things she felt she'd learn. There was a pause in the conversation then #1 asked why so many girls were crying. Although she has a big heart, #1 is more of a stoic. She doesn't often display extreme emotions, so I wasn't surprised she didn't understand the crying. I explained that the girls were disappointed, that they had hoped they would win. She replied, "Well, I wanted to win too, but there were 130 girls. Didn't they know the likelihood of winning was 130 to 1?"<br />
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Ha! That's my girl with her head on her shoulders!<br />
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<br />JLJhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16748662196055415831noreply@blogger.com6tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5506100987527445593.post-50059369362286189772013-06-07T11:37:00.002-07:002013-06-07T11:37:56.557-07:00Its Summer!Summer! Arizona summers are not to be compared with what most people experience. Summers here are very long, dangerously hot and quite difficult. Considering the circumstances (four kids at home, 110 degree heat outside, tiny house) we are doing OK. <br />
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Way back in May, we celebrated the end of school with an extended weekend trip to St. George to meet up with some of Spouse's family.<br />
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Warm, red rocks were explored. The kids marinated their school weary bones in a cold pool for hours on end. Baby showed off her thickening thighs and high speed crawling to adoring grandparents and cousins. We surrounded ourselves in relaxation and love of family.<br />
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Lest you think our lives are all sunshine and unicorns (stole that one from Spouse), we also enjoyed one serious case of explosive diarreahea from one child who shall not be named on the 8 hour drive home to the desert. We left a trail of spoiled underpants in roadside gas station bathrooms.<br />
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Since returning we are attempting to accomplish a few daily academic pursuits, a few domestic chores and lots of reading and imaginitive play.<br />
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Baby is getting used to the constant noise and commotion of having all of her siblings home at once. The first week she clung to me like a spider monkey. <br />
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#3 just completed her two week session of swim lessons. She says she is ready for swim team next summer. She had her first piano lesson last week and has practiced her simple drills with much seriousness and concentration. <br />
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Being cooped up is difficult for #2. He's like a puppy scratching at the back door, needing to be let out. Despite the heat he rides laps on his bike around the block. Basketball camp next week should help. <br />
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#1 thrives at home in the summer. She loves to be able to read all she wants and sleep later in the morning. She relishes her position as Queen Organizer (or Boss) of play and fun. #2 and #3 (almost) always defer to her imagination and leadership. She has been my life/sanity saver, since I can leave one or two of the kids with her so I can grocery shop or run an errand without having to pack up the whole crew. <br />
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Summer doesn't mean much to Spouse; his schedule and daily life go on as normal. One happy change is that the children's later bedtime means that they are all awake when he gets home and get to enjoy his company for an hour or two. <br />
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Me? This summer is making my school year life seem like a vacation. But all is how it ought to be and despite the noise and chaos, we are happy to be tucked in our tiny (now very messy), (but air conditioned!) house together. <br />
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<br />JLJhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16748662196055415831noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5506100987527445593.post-45643519429574712952013-05-21T10:23:00.000-07:002013-05-21T10:27:21.164-07:00A dog party! A BIG dog party! - thank you P.D. EastmanBecause she's lost 6 teeth and is nearly a Kindergarten graduate, #3 has deliberately given up pink and kittens as her favorites. She insists that dark green and dogs are her greatest loves now. So even though she started planning her My Little Pony birthday party about 10 months ago, her desire to seem "grown up" forced her to reconsider her party plans.<br />
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At first she declared it would be a werewolf party. (Ugh!)<br />
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The next week she revised her plans: a wolf party. (Not much better.)<br />
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At last, two weeks before her birthday, a final decision was made: A German Shepherd party it would be! (What? Huh?)<br />
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Me: Do you even know what a German Shepherd is?<br />
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#3: Yeah, its a huge police dog. Like in Underdog!<br />
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Me: (in a very nervous voice) Uh, OK. Sure, yeah. A German Shepherd party. If that's what you want?<br />
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{I'd already been feeling like my creative days are over and that I'm ready to retire from mom-made birthday parties. So it was hard to meet this German Shepherd idea with much enthusiasm.} <br />
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We made it happen. #3 and her puppy friends went to obedience school, had a kibbles eating contest, played a kitten chasing game and went digging for buried bones (or skittles) in the sand at the park. For a grand finale, we were visited by a real (huge!) German Shepherd which was sweet enough to be pet and cuddled by 9 little girls (and one 8 year old boy who didn't want the dog to leave ever!).<br />
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Happy Birthday #3!</td></tr>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">#1 was determined to dress #4 as a puppy for the party. You can't see it in this picture but #1 fashioned a tail to hang off her back. The necklace is #4's dog collar.</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgeAf_plWz4mOYLtBsv-xdi9AblC8He7q-6QF6_DXEWjKppr6sqj0DH0ITViPm63dBq-GqGVJZMZX9p0UehXGwmpLnMi11oeUWd4PT8G1CgsbJ4SWmOqvKZAx-l9z2kN7wzGrKk19Owfysa/s1600/IMGP0035.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="424" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgeAf_plWz4mOYLtBsv-xdi9AblC8He7q-6QF6_DXEWjKppr6sqj0DH0ITViPm63dBq-GqGVJZMZX9p0UehXGwmpLnMi11oeUWd4PT8G1CgsbJ4SWmOqvKZAx-l9z2kN7wzGrKk19Owfysa/s640/IMGP0035.jpg" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">#3 with Sage, the beautiful 12 year old German Shepherd that surprised our guests. Sage is a retired seeing-eye dog for a the blind. She was so calm and well-behaved. </td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiCkqfd6Wdk9OconurN_E1eXKVnRLSbeZqMBg6zYO9cFK94oNN2XVFeWMEzJaooQIKvpQ5WOwJb4z9q4GGwjdraCtYHXw3JeCfp50GqnaEujBLZtb1tKhQ2HLy7qtJp92BAf5NaEvG-4IZ5/s1600/IMGP0030.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="265" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiCkqfd6Wdk9OconurN_E1eXKVnRLSbeZqMBg6zYO9cFK94oNN2XVFeWMEzJaooQIKvpQ5WOwJb4z9q4GGwjdraCtYHXw3JeCfp50GqnaEujBLZtb1tKhQ2HLy7qtJp92BAf5NaEvG-4IZ5/s400/IMGP0030.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Sage's owner is telling the kids all about how she helped serve a blind man and got to go to movies and restaurants and even to church!</td></tr>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Coco Puff kibbles!</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjZgBwbG9R_N5VBz-7U3UbS2yAApn9p5eMBVvYg7JwO0aYPQwpnLag3cJM0Del-LQM7hePCHaCKDOm7mwLGuaGQf36W2l9ho1BoeBh7_RXbJ0CS4I_28detW3m7fP_K_cxHVhQjmfYJS41p/s1600/IMGP0026.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="424" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjZgBwbG9R_N5VBz-7U3UbS2yAApn9p5eMBVvYg7JwO0aYPQwpnLag3cJM0Del-LQM7hePCHaCKDOm7mwLGuaGQf36W2l9ho1BoeBh7_RXbJ0CS4I_28detW3m7fP_K_cxHVhQjmfYJS41p/s640/IMGP0026.jpg" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">How do you get 9 girls to all look at a camera and smile?</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjqPvjdjAuCEbYjjO0cAY61XdY4RQCSlJFqnZv6el_GcbBEtAAw35FMcFTFUYM0h79cvCY3WxeWzvhS_SRpjWWEQRZHE-BEEaF43G41qFV4OMkxlLG3XD2WQc75De_AZsPr0qSxsuVFNW5d/s1600/IMGP0043.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="424" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjqPvjdjAuCEbYjjO0cAY61XdY4RQCSlJFqnZv6el_GcbBEtAAw35FMcFTFUYM0h79cvCY3WxeWzvhS_SRpjWWEQRZHE-BEEaF43G41qFV4OMkxlLG3XD2WQc75De_AZsPr0qSxsuVFNW5d/s640/IMGP0043.jpg" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Buster did not want Sage to leave. He is one dog-hungry boy. </td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjRB4fpNeSH81RVfADdMGhV6MP7S7K2BZFLZFh4RrfC6S8jJXneBLqk8V0NBezuCw9sbq7L31JPuB8oStKNND-DU4oNtAh-5xpO59mC6WzzYIfc0CHBdCrtgZoA8t6ykQIM7sO1ewkhlR0T/s1600/IMGP0029.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="265" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjRB4fpNeSH81RVfADdMGhV6MP7S7K2BZFLZFh4RrfC6S8jJXneBLqk8V0NBezuCw9sbq7L31JPuB8oStKNND-DU4oNtAh-5xpO59mC6WzzYIfc0CHBdCrtgZoA8t6ykQIM7sO1ewkhlR0T/s400/IMGP0029.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">paw print pupcakes</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjl7zeIXMxIDiEhUTkEgN6s5FMwLvKhMdaVS5rPw54TQxXwk-qg2cO0TVCXlQRmA4KVZnxgh6I7202UHXY01q0RA3JQ6icqflD3cgdfHnMqZHBeuxuB0zS6yQ2EnL_u1Iq8phVwUE5yJHpt/s1600/IMGP0045.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="424" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjl7zeIXMxIDiEhUTkEgN6s5FMwLvKhMdaVS5rPw54TQxXwk-qg2cO0TVCXlQRmA4KVZnxgh6I7202UHXY01q0RA3JQ6icqflD3cgdfHnMqZHBeuxuB0zS6yQ2EnL_u1Iq8phVwUE5yJHpt/s640/IMGP0045.jpg" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">My beautiful birthday girl with a look of contentment. </td></tr>
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The only weekend we could give this party happened to fall on a weekend that Spouse was already committed to work. He wasn't around to "enjoy" any of the preparations or festivities. (Thank goodness for a super responsible and helpful 10 year old daughter!) This party exhausted me to the core. But while I was sweating and swearing under my breath I was encouraged by the thought of #3's happiness. I worry that she is too often left out of things, is dragged along to her brother's and sister's activities, is made to wait, is told "no" inequitably, is put to bed too hastily.... is not getting as much of me as I'd like to give her. It felt good to make a deposit in her bucket of happiness. JLJhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16748662196055415831noreply@blogger.com10tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5506100987527445593.post-87059488525866337762013-05-10T17:17:00.001-07:002013-05-10T17:17:44.162-07:00On the eve of her 6th birthdayI was starting to think #3 was going to be one of those 8 year olds with training wheels. Despite having received a bike from Santa, there was just no motivation to learn. I tried to manufacture motivation by offering rewards. Candy, donuts, extra computer time, a movie date were all turned up; the value not high enough to confront her fear of falling. <br />
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After expressing my frustration to a friend she wisely counseled, "Oh, everyone has a price. You just need to figure out what will really motivate her."<br />
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Friends. That was it! So I bribed her with play dates for every practice session. After a month and a half, yesterday she finally figured how to balance and rode unaided on and off for about a half hour.<br />
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As the wind whipped through her hair she squealed, "I LOVE this! I'm going to ride every day!" <br />
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Today we got out an old, smaller bike so she could work on her turns and stops. A chunky baby and a shy 10 year old came to witness what we all thought would never happen: #3 riding (happily) riding a bike! <br />
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She pulls herself up to standing and walks along the edge of furniture and toys. She's getting better and better at the dismounts and has only had one big forehead bruise so far. <br />
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For over a month she's been doing all her sleeping in the quiet darkness of my closet. This arrangement is great for her sleep but horrible for the cleanliness of my room! It seems like I can never go in my closet so the clothes and shoes are just piling up. <br />
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#4 has reached a new level of interaction and communication; the kids fight over who gets to play with her first after school. But her favorite is #1. #1 can make her smile and laugh like no one else. Plus, it doesn't hurt that she also changes diapers and makes bottles and can put the babe to bed. Ahhh, the joy of having an older sibling! <br />
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Here's to another month of growth and change! <br />
<br/><br/><div class="separator"style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEijl_k3olb-idi4pZzAtAKwIlAU9WOokTalktn_WXRMwI5Nq_Ke0Ic11wawRm9cN8p0DTI_DoIxiNNBF0cdaYQIzKRUlDEmb0U_J5giWGaUDGsBSKRwIvIWqsXTtc1VG20F7Zit68QFYewv/s640/blogger-image-440351775.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEijl_k3olb-idi4pZzAtAKwIlAU9WOokTalktn_WXRMwI5Nq_Ke0Ic11wawRm9cN8p0DTI_DoIxiNNBF0cdaYQIzKRUlDEmb0U_J5giWGaUDGsBSKRwIvIWqsXTtc1VG20F7Zit68QFYewv/s640/blogger-image-440351775.jpg" /></a></div>JLJhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16748662196055415831noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5506100987527445593.post-79833578488489703312013-04-26T10:11:00.001-07:002013-04-26T10:11:56.449-07:00Blustery afternoonIt's a very windy afternoon and while I was distracted with older children's homework and piano this little elf was busy making her own kite out of construction paper, curling ribbon and tape. I heard a little voice singing her heart out in our front yard and came to investigate. This is what I found: <br/><br/><div class="separator"style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi2RhQrC3ZMI63VsyPpWCdZgYK1oGFS1fvqd1neOaDlcb0ztUrM5yAFg-s2KyA8B_MjomABOg7N0efCAbijp1gIP5Vw9-ldDSnKIZfN6JKQzAKeOdqqzSsFYNSYfMCNmRhDK4q1rW7UfZPT/s640/blogger-image-1654348199.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi2RhQrC3ZMI63VsyPpWCdZgYK1oGFS1fvqd1neOaDlcb0ztUrM5yAFg-s2KyA8B_MjomABOg7N0efCAbijp1gIP5Vw9-ldDSnKIZfN6JKQzAKeOdqqzSsFYNSYfMCNmRhDK4q1rW7UfZPT/s640/blogger-image-1654348199.jpg" /></a></div> <br/><br/><div class="separator"style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjQzE7AW5eL1CMgFuXZZxgcvz-QebYhVn_gx9WdP2-29Ce8TcEdw4agkH0j-Gga_K6MLNj65tRfwVQ0VOgeWg3-uMv9fnjrUfZ0yKCPIsJAcqO3JhodQLH1FW8O6EDpid2z6s2OA8_8gPYk/s640/blogger-image-1395717113.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjQzE7AW5eL1CMgFuXZZxgcvz-QebYhVn_gx9WdP2-29Ce8TcEdw4agkH0j-Gga_K6MLNj65tRfwVQ0VOgeWg3-uMv9fnjrUfZ0yKCPIsJAcqO3JhodQLH1FW8O6EDpid2z6s2OA8_8gPYk/s640/blogger-image-1395717113.jpg" /></a></div> <br/><br/><div class="separator"style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgmH5SBgKbqYuwoa_3OA-UTHorrNZ90D9f-g0XnnGD2c9LRH29x-yjh5ukyv60nlEKQwyUvngzkBkjfYerghVJH7wa3Ej5-Zz3lVWyuN8FOuSV08cUvl2ClcmOT2DbN1Qh50geY4JMW1uls/s640/blogger-image-813865018.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgmH5SBgKbqYuwoa_3OA-UTHorrNZ90D9f-g0XnnGD2c9LRH29x-yjh5ukyv60nlEKQwyUvngzkBkjfYerghVJH7wa3Ej5-Zz3lVWyuN8FOuSV08cUvl2ClcmOT2DbN1Qh50geY4JMW1uls/s640/blogger-image-813865018.jpg" /></a></div>JLJhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16748662196055415831noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5506100987527445593.post-85279937724822864112013-04-02T10:25:00.002-07:002013-04-02T10:25:35.566-07:00Easter Best <div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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Before you scroll through these (what looks to me like) pictures of perfect children, know that this weekend they fought, messed up the house and complained just like all kids do. <br />
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But when I see these pictures my heart swells with love for their brilliant, good spirits. My heart aches with hope for the world because of the light and joy that these children bring. <br />
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The gifts they've been given can do so much to build up and bless God's children. #3's compassion, #2's innate joy, #1's earnestness and #4's strength.... So much power! <br />
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Their potentials humble me and I feel the weight of my stewardship: to help them recognize their gifts and teach them how to use their gifts to serve God. <br />
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Which brings me to Easter. Its through the grace of Jesus Christ, this enabling power, that I have any hope of not failing my family. All my diligence, all my strength, all my efforts aren't enough. I can't do it alone. But through grace I'm granted the strength, patience, and wisdom that I wouldn't otherwise possess. If I allow it, Christ's grace will make up for my shortcomings, my failures, my foolish pride. Its wonderful! I love Easter.<br />
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<br />JLJhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16748662196055415831noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5506100987527445593.post-23083659521475613542013-03-24T20:51:00.001-07:002013-03-24T20:51:50.225-07:00Very much aliveIt's been difficult to find time to sit at the computer for more than 2 minutes. I also have an infant and three other kids. And the dog ate my homework. Good excuses, right? <br />
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Well, no more from me! I've downloaded the Blogger app and I foresee easier and more frequent blog posting in our future. That is, if this test run is a success. <br />
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Even though I have a nice camera, and a new lens, I seem to be taking lots of random photos with my iPhone. In fact, my iPhone photos can pretty much tell the story of the past few months. <br />
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A successful Ragnar Relay, #1's spring tennis session, 3's foray into soccer and missing top teeth (unrelated), #2's Cub Scout fun run, Spring Break adventures, #4's chunky legs and attempts to crawl, and Spouse and Buster making his first pinewood derby car are among my iPhone photo gems. <br />
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text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEioFn7DrnLGJH_kIEH42tzamW5lzmBrDZ4A868ZpPZKDkmspvSgecToDvCtx6oDZQaeDdZnebwvPWtDX7tBz7WoE1S0RV3t09aW3utODcebMhr4-p4LO7VkcRtXKl2vS-4bpOJwm8Ng5As2/s640/blogger-image--844204177.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEioFn7DrnLGJH_kIEH42tzamW5lzmBrDZ4A868ZpPZKDkmspvSgecToDvCtx6oDZQaeDdZnebwvPWtDX7tBz7WoE1S0RV3t09aW3utODcebMhr4-p4LO7VkcRtXKl2vS-4bpOJwm8Ng5As2/s640/blogger-image--844204177.jpg" /></a></div>JLJhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16748662196055415831noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5506100987527445593.post-40405704856828675532013-02-26T19:37:00.003-08:002013-02-26T19:38:53.502-08:00baptism review<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhmKnubJIMLJ6aaD2mRTu54BH0H6XPztluak4TPkZdcnFE8oU8O-yZ1RjDcGaOZBICq8Pk5wGb8VxjUklB7gywji0bFjAptgN8rbDlWlMRbRvt4tNUO3RExXR2xr544nYy5N4bydihiB-ZL/s1600/IMGP9657.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhmKnubJIMLJ6aaD2mRTu54BH0H6XPztluak4TPkZdcnFE8oU8O-yZ1RjDcGaOZBICq8Pk5wGb8VxjUklB7gywji0bFjAptgN8rbDlWlMRbRvt4tNUO3RExXR2xr544nYy5N4bydihiB-ZL/s640/IMGP9657.jpg" width="424" /> </a></div>
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The day of Buster's baptism he woke up early and excited and asked how soon he could put on his white jumpsuit. "After breakfast" couldn't come soon enough for him. He put that thing on and danced around the house, happy as can be, unable to contain his excitement.<br />
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We got to the chapel 10 minutes early and as our family arrived, Buster greeted as many as he could with tight hugs and high fives.<br />
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He sat through the talks by his cousin and uncle with anticipation and sprang from his chair when it was time to get wet.<br />
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After the ordinance prayer and when it was time for immersion, Buster jumped up, causing Spouse to have push him down into the water. It was funny to watch and even funnier that his feet never made it under. There was a redo.<br />
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Buster immerged from the changing room in his new suit and white shirt, his grin a mile wide. He looked perfect to me.<br />
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Not long afterwards, out in the parking lot I found him racing around, chasing his cousins. He tripped, hard, skidding to a stop. I heard 5 aunts gasp with me as we expected to see holes in the knees of the new suit pants and possibly a few tears or at least a sad face. But he popped up, pants in tact, dusted off his scraped up hands and kept running. <br />
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During our luncheon I lost count of how many bottled root beers Buster consumed. Its his favorite beverage and I wasn't going to slow him down on his special day. <br />
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A few days later, back at home in AZ, a while after I had tucked him in and turned off the light, I heard murmurs coming from his bedroom. I cracked the door and found him huddled under blanket with his night light, reading from his new, engraved scriptures. <br />
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What a kid.<br />
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<br />JLJhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16748662196055415831noreply@blogger.com8tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5506100987527445593.post-12092186850046957542013-02-11T08:56:00.000-08:002013-02-11T08:56:19.544-08:00<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhpytB8VtNwGTtFELBmsaTv02bKR1vVsA-m2saBEiOfU2ybng-OzQH-HOFYw1aIFIWmyy5Ek7ANKs0ux4T37xIXzYNO8LG0Nc2L5qfy1yzH67iwBEMKQdmfd6HO_fu9OjaL8yE3MNRtQJys/s1600/DSC_0336.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhpytB8VtNwGTtFELBmsaTv02bKR1vVsA-m2saBEiOfU2ybng-OzQH-HOFYw1aIFIWmyy5Ek7ANKs0ux4T37xIXzYNO8LG0Nc2L5qfy1yzH67iwBEMKQdmfd6HO_fu9OjaL8yE3MNRtQJys/s640/DSC_0336.JPG" width="427" /></a></div>
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About a week before Buster turned 8 we were talking about his baptism, in particular about testimony. I asked him, "Do you have a testimony?" Buster answered, "Yep, I do. I believe in God and Jesus Christ and I also believe that I'm old enough to have my own gun." <br />
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If I could capture Buster's essence in a bottle I could sell it to the world and make millions. It would be a happy mix of true joy blended with innocence, earnestness, energy and humor. Side effects may include an insatiable appetite and the risk of being hurt because you want to love and be loved with all your heart. Fortunately, this essence would grant you a most forgiving heart and your capacity for love will grow bigger.<br />
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Ahh, my Buster. My one son. <br />
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Did I tell you how on Christmas morning he came out to find that Santa had left him a basketball? He was thrilled. Thrilled! He shouted, "A basketball! A basketball!" holding it high in the air as if it were the greatest prize. He was equally enthusiastic for his sisters and their gifts from Santa. "I can't believe you got a bike! A BIKE!!! Yes!" "No way!?! A robot!" It wasn't until he had gone through his stocking that he ripped the basketball out of its packaging and started dribbling it towards the front door. Suddenly he stopped, looked up and gasped for air. Santa had also left him a basketball standard, all set up inside the house. It was quiet for a moment while he processed that this was for him. First there was disbelief: he fell to his knees, covering his face with his hands. Then absolute pleasure: happiness and surprise expressed through shrieks and screams, running up and down the hall, dancing and leaping, laughing! <br />
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One of my favorite moments of parenthood. <br />
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The night before his birthday when I tucked him into bed I held him a little longer. "I just love you so much Buster and I can't believe you're going to be eight tomorrow."<br />
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"I know why you're sad mom. Because I'm going to be in Cub Scouts now and then I'm going to be in Boy Scouts and then I'm going to be old enough to have my own gun."<br />
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Yep. That's exactly why I'm sad and so very happy.<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjpfi_CA9oQqnz4dVTa6YdwudTc9I9Kk5qUF-Z9PDqwyv88nABmCN5Siv-HNFQ0kS1kSuWd2YZJuRr256wFJOJe3M24OxxPEUAUOnW__wcJF7kYyu_Wx-YUsH0aZwUAFqP8eNzibs28voZa/s1600/IMGP9521.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="424" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjpfi_CA9oQqnz4dVTa6YdwudTc9I9Kk5qUF-Z9PDqwyv88nABmCN5Siv-HNFQ0kS1kSuWd2YZJuRr256wFJOJe3M24OxxPEUAUOnW__wcJF7kYyu_Wx-YUsH0aZwUAFqP8eNzibs28voZa/s640/IMGP9521.jpg" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Buster with his best buddies</td></tr>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">It's air soft. And he got safety glasses, so there will be no eyes shot out here.</td></tr>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">First den meeting! This may be the only shirt he hangs up without me asking.</td></tr>
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<br />JLJhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16748662196055415831noreply@blogger.com7tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5506100987527445593.post-2364625114102713832013-01-20T18:14:00.001-08:002013-01-20T18:14:19.831-08:00Updates on #4 @ 4.5 months<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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#4 has not received adequate attention on this blog and I mean to remedy that right now!<br />
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I'm sure I've told many of you this before: my experience with #4 is the newborn experience I always wanted. It's what I grew up thinking motherhood was like. Of course all my children are special to me and equally loved, but I was pretty stressed out and inexperienced with #1. Then with #2 and #3 I was adding babies to babies, diapers to diapers, car seats to car seats. It was hard work, all the time. With a five year gap between #3 and #4, I am loving having 3 older, independent children who can help! I'm experienced enough to know when to worry and when to put down the broom and snuggle my babe. <br />
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As if that weren't enough, #4 is a dream. She sleeps from 7 to 7 and has for months. She is mild and happy and loves the heaps of attention she gets. How did I get so lucky?<br />
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If I've learned anything after 10 years of motherhood it's this: #4 is a blessing from God. She isn't wonderful because I made her wonderful. She isn't a good baby because I'm a good mom. I just really lucked out. <br />
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#4's developmental stage is so fun right now. She is interacting with us, laughing, jabbering, blowing raspberries. She responds to her name and recognizes familiar songs. She has tried applesauce and loves warm bowls of rice cereal. <br />
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I could butter on her fat rolls and eat them for lunch. <br />
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I know there are tough times ahead. She'll teeth and get her first ear infection. She's learn the art of the temper tantrum. She'll scare me with pennies and crayons in her mouth and not too far down the road we'll lament the permanent bruising on her forehead as she starts to walk. <br />
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But she's our last babe and I'm going to try to love every day of it. JLJhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16748662196055415831noreply@blogger.com7tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5506100987527445593.post-14948888426928259142013-01-15T09:10:00.001-08:002013-01-15T09:10:27.394-08:00a fond farewell to 20122012 was the year of the baby. It seems like everything revolved around growing, preparing for, or adjusting to our sweet #4. Despite not being fond of being sick or getting fat, a baby-centered year was just what our family needed; it was a happy year.<br />
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January: I was in the throes of sickness. Even looking at our pictures from this time give me that familiar gross feeling. I didn't want to smell, touch or eat anything. And I was exhausted. One weekend Spouse managed to get me off the couch and take us all to Goldfield, an old mining ghost town. <br />
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February: My boy turned 7 and hosted a bike rally birthday party. We enjoyed fresh carrots from our garden.<br />
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March: I started to see light at the end of Sick Tunnel. We enjoyed feeding the calves at Shamrock Farm and #3 began swimming lessons. </div>
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April: Ahh! Sweet relief. I felt great! And my hair, I was loving my thick, full maternity hair. I ate all the Easter candy I wanted without feeling sick. We enjoyed #2's baseball games.<br />
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May: My #3 turned 5. The kids said goodbye to their teachers. We enjoyed Memorial Day in St. George, UT.<br />
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June: Too hot, too tired to take pictures. #1 and #2 enjoyed not learning anything in diving lessons. I was getting bigger. Much bigger.<br />
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July: Utah! My swollen ankles and wrists cried for joy at the cooler temperatures. The children loved playing with cousins, boating, backpacking, playing on the beach of Bear Lake. I enjoyed the cool leather while I lay immobile on my mom's couch<br />
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August: Back to school for #1 and #2. First day of Kindergarten for #3! The baby count down began. I laid on the couch and didn't get up until the blessed day #4 put me out of my misery and joined our family, August 29th.<br />
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September: A blur.<br />
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October: We spent our Fall Break enjoying an Utah autumn and blessing our new babe surrounded by grandparents, cousins, sisters and brothers. Our home was taken over by pirates at Halloween.<br />
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November: #4 really started to get cute. Maybe its because she started sleeping through the night regularly. My dear #1 turned ten and grew even more beautiful and precious. <br />
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December: This Christmas was one to remember. Having a baby at Christmastime makes the season even more special to me. There's nothing like a live babe in the manger, right? We dashed up to snow and bitter cold temperatures to ring in the new year with our family and fireworks over the snow. Sledding, cousins and eating icicles is pretty much the greatest thing for a seven year old boy who seems impervious to the cold.<br />
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Looking forward: In 2013 I intend to become addicted to my new iPhone, learn to run again, and say yes to my kids as much as I can (to sort of make up for being a blob last year).<br />
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Happy New Year!<br />
<br />JLJhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16748662196055415831noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5506100987527445593.post-60340690722712311262012-12-24T11:13:00.003-08:002012-12-24T11:18:15.635-08:00Merry Christmas, world!<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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December began with the usual excitement and happiness. We put up a fresh tree, decorated the house and put on the Christmas tunes. I love Christmas and the spirit it gives to our family and the whole world.<br />
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I was busy with Christmas shopping when I got in my car and turned on my regular talk radio station. They were reporting a shooting, 26 people shot dead... in an elementary school. I couldn't have heard it right. Not an elementary school! Not little children! Babies, really.<br />
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I wanted to vomit and had to pull my car off the road to weep and take in what I had just learned. My mind screamed, "Is there nothing sacred or holy? Is there nothing off-limits anymore?" I thought about my own children who go happily to school everyday, feeling secure in their safety and the love of their teachers. It could have been my children. In fact, it felt like I had lost my own children. What has our world come to?<br />
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There truly is no peace on earth; love has been defeated.<br />
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And it was almost Christmas; what a horrible time for a tragedy (as if there is any time appropriate). Christmas would never be the same to the parents who had looked forward to their children's excitement Christmas morning and thoughtfully chosen gifts to please them. Every year they must grieve their loss as the rest of the Christian world is gathering their families close to celebrate. <br />
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It was too much for my heart to bear. I prayed for peace or comfort or anything to help me understand and process what had happened.<br />
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The next day I was playing Christmas songs on the piano as my children sang along. I couldn't keep my mind away from the deaths in Conneticut. As the children sang and as I tried to sing along despite the growing tightness in my throat and chest, I became aware of the words coming from my mouth, and I saw an image in my mind of the Savoir, with open arms, welcoming and comforting those little spirits:<br />
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"Be near me Lord Jesus; I ask thee to stay<br />
Close by me forever, and love me I pray.<br />
Bless all the dear children in thy tender care,<br />
And fit us for heaven to live with thee there."<br />
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Lyrics from other Christmas songs came to mind:<br />
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"In all our trials born to be our friend.<br />
He knows our need, to our weakness no stranger"<br />
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"Sleep in heavenly peace"<br />
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Perhaps it was a blessing, a tender mercy, that this happened at Christmastime? A few lines from a few Christmas songs won't bring back a child or erase the pain of loss. Perhaps each year as families mark another year without their little one, their grief will be softened as they find themselves surrounded by lyrics telling of God's love and hope. <br />
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The hope is that God sent his Son, a Savior, to overcome sin and death; to truly offer light and hope to our world. Especially in times of pain, grief and death. We have never needed His hope and light more than now! Indeed Christmas is triumph:<br />
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"Joy to the world, the Lord is come!"<br />
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"No more will sin and sorrow reign,<br />
nor thorns infest the ground!<br />
He'll come and make the blessings flow!"<br />
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"Chains shall he break..<br />
And in His name all oppression shall cease!"<br />
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I sang with the choir in church yesterday and could barely choke out the music as we sang,<br />
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"God is not dead, nor doth he sleep;<br />
The wrong shall fail, the right prevail,<br />
With peace on earth, good will to men!"<br />
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The massacre in Connecticut has changed Christmas for me, forever. I will never mindlessly enjoy the sentiments of the season, or passively celebrate Christ's birth again. <br />
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I celebrate Christ's birth, life, atonement and resurrection more fervently than ever. I deeply wish you the happiest, hopeful, and Merriest Christmas!<br />
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<br />JLJhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16748662196055415831noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5506100987527445593.post-42225737085812525172012-11-28T10:22:00.000-08:002012-11-28T10:22:55.745-08:00Thanksgiving highlightsIt's hard not to feel a bit lonely on Thanksgiving when you aren't with any family. But over the years and many Thanksgivings apart from family, I've learned there are good things I can enjoy. <br />
<br />
Like, having Spouse home for a few days and getting him all to ourselves. <br />
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Like, not having a set schedule. When the food is ready, it's ready. No stress.<br />
<br />
Like, getting to spend one on one time with each of my kids during the long break from school.<br />
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Like, getting all the leftovers to ourselves.<br />
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See? It's not so bad!<br />
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">We had a pilgrim and a turkey as guests this year.</td></tr>
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Some post dinner recreations: </div>
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<br />JLJhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16748662196055415831noreply@blogger.com4