tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-13838764868026109252023-06-15T06:32:41.914-05:00Here goes nothing! My Life & Times.Stay involved in our adventure! Read my stories, complaints, and wishes during my quest to conquer pregnancy and motherhood.Andihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01005237451666032483noreply@blogger.comBlogger426125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1383876486802610925.post-29065542597740790482016-09-22T10:11:00.000-05:002016-09-22T10:11:16.229-05:00I'm still here.eI've been silent from my blog for over a year now. It's not that I don't want to write, but writing is one of the many things I've given up in the pursuit of time.<br />
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Last winter I tried to economize my schedule. Things weren't getting done around the house and I was forgetting to do important things with/for the kids, so I stopped hanging out on the computer. I quit watching TV. I stopped writing. I stopped calling and talking to people. I stopped visiting my friends and family. I was falling behind in things that needed to be done, and so I saved time where I could. I cut out what wasn't completely essential. In some ways, it helped. I got dinner on the table. I caught up more on laundry. I've been able to get the house cleaned up more and be more on top of all of the kids' needs.<br />
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But I'm just now realizing the cost of giving up those things. I'm isolated. I'm tired. I'm sad. I have no time with my husband. And now I'm wondering which things are worth <strike>wasting</strike> spending time or money on and which things aren't. Finding the balance is really hard for me.<br />
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I suddenly grasped how much I miss having time to waste earlier this week when I toured a local montessori school. I became so hopeful at the prospect of a few hours to myself. And I mean really, truly hopeful. It seemed like such a great solution. Here was this place where I could leave my kids for a short time each day, a place where I could feel like they were truly benefitting from the experience and in good hands. At the same time, I could also benefit from some time away. I'd give myself some time to refresh. Some time to relax. Sometime to regroup my soldiers and assess the battlefield before going back in for more.<br />
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I called my friend and talked excitedly about how great I thought it would be for the kids and how awesome it would be to have those two hours a day all alone. She asked me what I would do, and I surprised myself with the answer.<br />
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I would write in my blog. I'd go back to cooking new, fun dinners that I actually enjoy. I'd garden. I'd go to Target alone. I'd resume my emails to friends that were written just to say, "Hey, how are you doing?" I'd play VFW bingo or some other stupid thing with my mom.<br />
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When I did the budgetary math and realized that we couldn't afford to send William to school, I was crushed more than I'd like to admit. We just don't have an extra $800 a month to send the younger boys to Montessori.<br />
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Even just typing that, let alone clicking publish, makes me feel like a snob. I really do know we are fortunate. We have money in the bank for our retirement and our kids' future schooling. We can afford to pay our medical bills. We can afford food, clothing, a house, our cars, and so many other things. I KNOW we are so very very fortunate. But that doesn't mean I don't find myself wanting more, and I don't know how to stop that.<br />
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Everything seems to come at such great cost. I can save on things monetarily, but then I end up spending my time. To save my time means spending my money. I guess that's how the cliched "time is money" saying came about.<br />
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There is just SO MUCH out there that I'd like to spend money and time on. I'd love a bigger car to fit our whole family and a weeks' worth of groceries. Since we moved in five years ago, I've dreamt of having the holey walls patched and painted. Since William broke my computer months ago, I've wanted a new one. I want to take photos again, to play around editing them and sharing them. I would love to go on a weekend vacation to literally anywhere and just spend time with my husband.<br />
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When I saw the back-to-school ads I actually reminisced about how my dad used to take me clothes shopping and let me pick out the new clothes I wanted before school started. The only catch to our shopping trips was that he would always always always try to embarrass me in the store. At the time it was kind of horrible, but I now find myself wishing that I could go to the store and spend half the day trying things on with my dad and walking out with half a new wardrobe. And now it's something I have neither the time nor the money for.<br />
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Since realizing all of these things I've tried to think about what I can change, but I am stuck. We save money so that we can retire and be together. We save money so that our kids can go to school with less-than-crippling debt. I spend time doing the laundry, cooking dinner, reading to the kids, taking them to the doctor because, hello, what else can I do? Yet somehow, I still need to change something. I can see that I need a change but I don't yet know what that change should look like.<br />
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I start each day before 7am and when the kids go to bed at 7pm I am DONE. I might start the dishwasher or put away a last load of laundry but I don't have the energy to do much of anything, even something I enjoy. So I brush my teeth, climb into bed, and read a few chapters of my book until I can't keep my eyes open anymore. I'm often sound asleep by 8:30.<br />
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<br />Andihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01005237451666032483noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1383876486802610925.post-8528214099339287122015-08-06T11:35:00.002-05:002015-08-06T11:35:53.839-05:00Home movies.While eating lunch this afternoon, I watched old home videos that my mother-in-law uploaded to YouTube. Something gave me pause about seeing her back in time. She was my age, holding a newborn baby in the hospital the same way I have done now three times. She nursed her baby and held her baby and passed her baby off to be admired by grandma. I was shocked by my mother-in-law's youth.<br />
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She was just like me.<br />
Probably all grandmas were just like me at some point. <br />
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In my head, it's easy to know that every grandma was once a new mother just starting out like I am today. It's easy for me to know that every old person was once young. But for some reason seeing that video footage showcasing soundless minutes of day-to-day life was jarring. It made me think ahead to my own future.<br />
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Probably my boys will look at old photos of me and laugh at my glasses, my hair, the stupid things I made them wear. Digital storage means that my photos will never turn brittle and yellow but surely they will still be just as dated as if they had. Some day I will take my old hard drives to be converted into whatever future format is best, and I might share them with whatever the future's version of Facebook will be.<br />
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My boys will probably have kids of their own and then I will find myself exactly where my mother-in-law is now. My grown kids and grand kids will laugh when I can't figure out the next greatest technology. They'll gripe about the way I will worry and they'll poke fun at the thirty year old shoes they'll find buried in my closet because I just can't stand to give them away.<br />
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All of this sounds like a very obvious course of events, and it is, really. Everybody ages. But this may be the first time I've ever sat down and thought about it. And while I'm sure I'll have many years to change my mind, getting old doesn't really seem so bad to me right now. I will have so many great things to look back on. And maybe, one day, my daughter-in-law will see all of these photos I've posted here and be at once appalled and comforted by seeing that we aren't that different after all.<br />
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<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-Kn0enHrHOEo/VcOLloJ0_EI/AAAAAAAAOmY/PmQL2dD_voA/s1600/DSCN5622.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="300" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-Kn0enHrHOEo/VcOLloJ0_EI/AAAAAAAAOmY/PmQL2dD_voA/s400/DSCN5622.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Outfit that was once Jared's.</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/--p4oMC7L-0E/VcOLltaYNEI/AAAAAAAAOmU/v5FsZNNlTTE/s1600/DSCN5654.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="300" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/--p4oMC7L-0E/VcOLltaYNEI/AAAAAAAAOmU/v5FsZNNlTTE/s400/DSCN5654.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Too many blueberries.</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-u5ajujFAruQ/VcOLkaqXWmI/AAAAAAAAOmM/wLT9Dk-vvuo/s1600/DSCN5808.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="400" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-u5ajujFAruQ/VcOLkaqXWmI/AAAAAAAAOmM/wLT9Dk-vvuo/s400/DSCN5808.jpg" width="300" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Building the campfire.</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-DE4xS_sTKoo/VcOLmYYgW9I/AAAAAAAAOmk/b5UnqJvPnps/s1600/DSCN5821.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="312" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-DE4xS_sTKoo/VcOLmYYgW9I/AAAAAAAAOmk/b5UnqJvPnps/s400/DSCN5821.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Making s'mores.</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-joBJAJ6GF1g/VcOLnKtYQtI/AAAAAAAAOmo/g2qdpI2oOKY/s1600/DSCN5833.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="300" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-joBJAJ6GF1g/VcOLnKtYQtI/AAAAAAAAOmo/g2qdpI2oOKY/s400/DSCN5833.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Marshmallow roaster in training.</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-6brl9hl4myI/VcOLoI2hdAI/AAAAAAAAOnA/KVbR1FGPyBY/s1600/DSCN5868.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="400" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-6brl9hl4myI/VcOLoI2hdAI/AAAAAAAAOnA/KVbR1FGPyBY/s400/DSCN5868.jpg" width="300" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Marshmallow roasting master.</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-iqhI-zpgk_c/VcOLpqdBbpI/AAAAAAAAOm8/DED2qjmFs0o/s1600/DSCN5723.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="315" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-iqhI-zpgk_c/VcOLpqdBbpI/AAAAAAAAOm8/DED2qjmFs0o/s400/DSCN5723.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">First time fisherman.</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-26Dq7lpHdy4/VcOLqmEbebI/AAAAAAAAOnI/HCkNB5-4iE0/s1600/DSCN5729.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="301" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-26Dq7lpHdy4/VcOLqmEbebI/AAAAAAAAOnI/HCkNB5-4iE0/s400/DSCN5729.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">First fish ever caught for Jared.</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-3LvrUr5eSIY/VcOLr6pukQI/AAAAAAAAOnU/53GyBbZQfH8/s1600/DSCN5737.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="300" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-3LvrUr5eSIY/VcOLr6pukQI/AAAAAAAAOnU/53GyBbZQfH8/s400/DSCN5737.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Expert fishing duo.</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-IaQWoGyzMtA/VcOLs0MCvEI/AAAAAAAAOnc/4BVbMV-vUss/s1600/DSCN5766.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="300" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-IaQWoGyzMtA/VcOLs0MCvEI/AAAAAAAAOnc/4BVbMV-vUss/s400/DSCN5766.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">First-timer, natural pro.</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-ykVCT5-S8-U/VcOLo5ZiHOI/AAAAAAAAOmw/rMP9Ea9B0ZM/s1600/DSCN5905.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="300" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-ykVCT5-S8-U/VcOLo5ZiHOI/AAAAAAAAOmw/rMP9Ea9B0ZM/s400/DSCN5905.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Bath time. No fishing here.</td></tr>
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<br />Andihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01005237451666032483noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1383876486802610925.post-66364483457300285812015-06-15T11:25:00.001-05:002015-06-15T11:25:49.056-05:00Nature explorers.<div style="text-align: left;">
<span style="color: #eeeeee;">We went for another great "nature walk" last weekend. That seems to be what the
boys are really into these days. The highlight of their trip was a
really really big tree trunk. No lies.</span></div>
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<span style="color: #eeeeee;">I can't complain because nature walks are: </span></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
<span style="color: #eeeeee;"><a href="https://www.blogger.com/null" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;">1. Free</a></span></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
<span style="color: #eeeeee;"><a href="https://www.blogger.com/null" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;">2. Mostly free of other people</a></span></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
<span style="color: #eeeeee;"><a href="https://www.blogger.com/null" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;">3. Exercise and</a></span></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
<span style="color: #eeeeee;"><a href="https://www.blogger.com/null" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;">4.
A time where Jared and I can walk just far enough behind the kids so
that we can maybe, possible pretend to be having an adult conversation.</a></span></div>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-0z4PruwGcwk/VXzD5XW5brI/AAAAAAAAOV0/ku11cNTtxZ4/s1600/DSCN5520.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="300" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-0z4PruwGcwk/VXzD5XW5brI/AAAAAAAAOV0/ku11cNTtxZ4/s400/DSCN5520.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">When there are no benches on the trails, you eat on a bridge.</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-U47v_FLB_7o/VXzD48Q0dNI/AAAAAAAAOVw/YR35o_R0lio/s1600/DSCN5522.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="300" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-U47v_FLB_7o/VXzD48Q0dNI/AAAAAAAAOVw/YR35o_R0lio/s400/DSCN5522.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Colin attempting to eat his entire sandwich all at once so that he can have strawberries.</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-7fZTTJ1RaaI/VXzD5yjjIzI/AAAAAAAAOV8/Hx5ga9AZsZs/s1600/DSCN5524.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="300" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-7fZTTJ1RaaI/VXzD5yjjIzI/AAAAAAAAOV8/Hx5ga9AZsZs/s400/DSCN5524.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Oliver showing Colin to properly eat.</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-s5Cmz6w3Tw4/VXzD6zAN_nI/AAAAAAAAOWI/Y88jeeljCFM/s1600/DSCN5529.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="300" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-s5Cmz6w3Tw4/VXzD6zAN_nI/AAAAAAAAOWI/Y88jeeljCFM/s400/DSCN5529.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Another one of many bridges.</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="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/--5KtRI6PK0Q/VXzEnE7DjAI/AAAAAAAAOWo/K6ewLwyh4Dk/s1600/DSCN5550.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="300" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/--5KtRI6PK0Q/VXzEnE7DjAI/AAAAAAAAOWo/K6ewLwyh4Dk/s400/DSCN5550.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Selfie...</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="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-qE3byZ8YEOo/VXzD9CiUUbI/AAAAAAAAOWg/jBd8rfIQVB0/s1600/DSCN5556.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="300" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-qE3byZ8YEOo/VXzD9CiUUbI/AAAAAAAAOWg/jBd8rfIQVB0/s400/DSCN5556.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">...Followed by Oliver's first selfie...</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="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-tS307zMgcKQ/VXzD8N_0FyI/AAAAAAAAOWU/_e25UJwV5N0/s1600/DSCN5555.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="300" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-tS307zMgcKQ/VXzD8N_0FyI/AAAAAAAAOWU/_e25UJwV5N0/s400/DSCN5555.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">....And Colin's first selfie, too.</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;"><img border="0" height="300" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-s-Flr7ph3NM/VXzD7XqpNvI/AAAAAAAAOWQ/V1X655nfHQc/s400/DSCN5539.jpg" width="400" /></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">(Bill didn't care about taking selfies.)</td></tr>
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<br />Andihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01005237451666032483noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1383876486802610925.post-80297773987197228382015-06-11T21:20:00.001-05:002015-06-11T21:20:32.106-05:00June.<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">
Summer is officially here. With Jared done with classes and the boys out of school, we've been partying it up.<br /><br />After
nine months of terrible sleep, I decided to do sleep training with
William. I didn't want to do it, but it was to the point where he was waking
up at least four times a night. I was exhausted.<br /><br />After a couple
of nights of "training" which involved going in to "soothe" him on a
schedule of five, ten, or fifteen minutes... </div>
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He sleeps. </div>
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">
For twelve
hours straight. And I have finally caught up on my sleep and I am feeling so much
better. My house is (slightly) cleaner. I've been nicer. I'm almost
back to the point where I have dinner on the table every night and the
laundry caught up. <br /><br />I had NO idea I was so tired until suddenly I wasn't tired anymore. <br /><br />But anyway. We've been busy with our summertime stuff.</div>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><img border="0" height="400" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-AmvFveGx2mQ/VXo-u11vioI/AAAAAAAAOSU/uWx8AHHXfoY/s400/DSCN5404.jpg" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;" width="300" /></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Helping to unload the dishwasher.</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-OPiaWbzSDyc/VXo-u1t5QyI/AAAAAAAAOSY/eFgJ0jjJyyY/s1600/DSCN5421.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="300" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-OPiaWbzSDyc/VXo-u1t5QyI/AAAAAAAAOSY/eFgJ0jjJyyY/s400/DSCN5421.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Enjoying lasagna night.</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-V6IINg_R-3Q/VXo-vStIcmI/AAAAAAAAOSc/6HR6ASG6sfY/s1600/DSCN5426.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="300" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-V6IINg_R-3Q/VXo-vStIcmI/AAAAAAAAOSc/6HR6ASG6sfY/s400/DSCN5426.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Up for adventure on a nature walk.</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="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-7vWvGJTYdO4/VXo-vxsdnGI/AAAAAAAAOSo/cTAvgtEDT8I/s1600/DSCN5428.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="400" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-7vWvGJTYdO4/VXo-vxsdnGI/AAAAAAAAOSo/cTAvgtEDT8I/s400/DSCN5428.jpg" width="310" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Nature experts.</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-zKKq-mnKPCw/VXo-w5IWD7I/AAAAAAAAOS0/EeiXNhwHe4c/s1600/DSCN5432.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="300" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-zKKq-mnKPCw/VXo-w5IWD7I/AAAAAAAAOS0/EeiXNhwHe4c/s400/DSCN5432.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Perfect picnic place.</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="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-nFk_zGmtIG0/VXo-xsXA4XI/AAAAAAAAOS8/pTeGszDaccc/s1600/DSCN5433.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="298" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-nFk_zGmtIG0/VXo-xsXA4XI/AAAAAAAAOS8/pTeGszDaccc/s400/DSCN5433.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">PB&J just like the big boys.</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-L2Z4oAELmAE/VXo-x9ATJZI/AAAAAAAAOTA/gpX3IeN_6K8/s1600/DSCN5438.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="246" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-L2Z4oAELmAE/VXo-x9ATJZI/AAAAAAAAOTA/gpX3IeN_6K8/s400/DSCN5438.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Taking a rest on our strenuous hike.</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-MqxWlgaa-4o/VXo-yXfBHiI/AAAAAAAAOTI/2rMJQWEhy08/s1600/DSCN5443.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="300" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-MqxWlgaa-4o/VXo-yXfBHiI/AAAAAAAAOTI/2rMJQWEhy08/s400/DSCN5443.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">The correct way to drink from a water fountain.</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-9Yhe3eq1MUw/VXo-za5RV8I/AAAAAAAAOTU/IQztuY1uYfs/s1600/DSCN5472.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="300" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-9Yhe3eq1MUw/VXo-za5RV8I/AAAAAAAAOTU/IQztuY1uYfs/s400/DSCN5472.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Twins game.</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-7zRy2ihQjlQ/VXo-z7d9PLI/AAAAAAAAOTY/iYjwqX6F1BA/s1600/DSCN5476.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="300" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-7zRy2ihQjlQ/VXo-z7d9PLI/AAAAAAAAOTY/iYjwqX6F1BA/s400/DSCN5476.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Traditional Twins Game Selfie.</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-yW0LJGJKCqE/VXo-0R8TNDI/AAAAAAAAOTc/qzH3Aa3XiUQ/s1600/DSCN5494.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="400" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-yW0LJGJKCqE/VXo-0R8TNDI/AAAAAAAAOTc/qzH3Aa3XiUQ/s400/DSCN5494.jpg" width="330" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Playing after swimming lessons.</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-bMfBghJjJ0o/VXo-1YqyvLI/AAAAAAAAOTs/CqAFbGOzyJI/s1600/DSCN5500.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="300" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-bMfBghJjJ0o/VXo-1YqyvLI/AAAAAAAAOTs/CqAFbGOzyJI/s400/DSCN5500.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">First time in a pool.</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-zr5JycHWLig/VXo-10VGkhI/AAAAAAAAOTw/3ByGizrl_WQ/s1600/DSCN5502.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="300" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-zr5JycHWLig/VXo-10VGkhI/AAAAAAAAOTw/3ByGizrl_WQ/s400/DSCN5502.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Stealth photo of Oliver.</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-hWWmgk3DAKY/VXo-2G7dBdI/AAAAAAAAOT4/XJ1y4BJNAP0/s1600/DSCN5511.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="300" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-hWWmgk3DAKY/VXo-2G7dBdI/AAAAAAAAOT4/XJ1y4BJNAP0/s400/DSCN5511.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Colin being a good sport about being dunked.</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-emVr6-3RNpg/VXo-2takAdI/AAAAAAAAOUA/VayE6bO54I8/s1600/DSCN5516.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="300" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-emVr6-3RNpg/VXo-2takAdI/AAAAAAAAOUA/VayE6bO54I8/s400/DSCN5516.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Pride in eating corn like the rest of us.</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-k3xpDPATur0/VXo_11W7BMI/AAAAAAAAOUM/Siy0jCsoxFU/s1600/DSCN5457.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="300" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-k3xpDPATur0/VXo_11W7BMI/AAAAAAAAOUM/Siy0jCsoxFU/s400/DSCN5457.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Hive is coming along nicely.</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
Andihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01005237451666032483noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1383876486802610925.post-20753283032723823712015-06-01T16:51:00.001-05:002015-06-01T16:51:42.907-05:00Happy (Belated) BirthdayDear Colin,<br /><br />Your birthday was over a month ago. I'm sorry.<br /><br />I actually had your annual birthday slideshow ready to go on your birthday. I even thought I'd get this letter written on time, too, but I have been so busy that I never wrote anything publish-worthy. With your dad finishing up his first semester of grad school, we've barely had time to breathe.<br />
<br />I've been waiting and waiting for the perfect quiet moment to write this letter. In waiting for perfection, nothing got done. That's something I have a problem with. I hesitate too much with decisions and I get bogged down by the details. But not you. If you were in charge of writing this letter, you wouldn't hem and haw over what to say or when to say it. You'd just say it. And not only would you just say it, you'd say it and then you'd have zero regrets with how it came out, whether good or bad.<br /><br />That's one of the things I love about you, Colin. If you're in for a penny, you're in for a pound. You're not afraid to put every single thing on the line. Your whole existence is an exercise in reckless love of life.<br /><br />When given a roll of stickers, you use every single sticker for one great magnum opus and never lament that you didn't save any for later when you have none. At preschool you make your artwork however you'd like with no regard to how anyone else is doing theirs, and you are always the first person to declare, "I like it!" You put your shoes on the wrong feet and tell me, "They work like this, too." When you have a treat, you're always willing to share "just a little bite." Over and over and over again you fall down in your zealous play, but the words, "I'm okay!" seem to tumble out of your mouth even before you're able to right yourself again for your next attempt. <br /><br />
Earlier this spring you saw me struggling to hold it all together during a particularly bad day. Smiling, you came to me with hands full of wilted dandelions and said to me, "It's okay, Mom. I got these for you. They're pretty." <br /><br />That's an image that sticks in my head. You, standing in front of me with dirty knees. Smiling. Hair plastered to your forehead with sweat. Holding out little handfuls of dandelions mangled by your less-than-delicate picking. The dandelions were dirty and broken, but you still saw them as beautiful and so you smiled and you shared them with me. <br /><br />To make me happy.<br /><br /> Every single day you find small ways to choose happiness. <br />Every single day you find ways to offer a metaphorical dandelion to the people around you. <br />I hope you never change. <br /><br />Happy 3rd Birthday, Colin. We love you.<br /><br /><iframe allowfullscreen="" frameborder="0" height="315" src="https://www.youtube.com/embed/Ryns45oKUio" width="420"></iframe><br />Andihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01005237451666032483noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1383876486802610925.post-11952272182211654172015-04-12T15:25:00.002-05:002015-04-12T15:25:56.038-05:00Raspberries.<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">
Today was is a beautiful day, so we threw open every window in the house and ate
raspberries. Even Bill. We ate them all the cool way, as I'm sure kids have been
doing for the last hundreds of years that raspberries have existed. </div>
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But that doesn't mean it's not
still totally the most awesome thing ever. </div>
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We're all so glad spring is here. Raspberry fingers forever. Andihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01005237451666032483noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1383876486802610925.post-43440773237693750552015-03-18T23:29:00.000-05:002015-03-18T23:29:22.602-05:00March on.So. I skipped the entire month of February. Not because I had nothing to write but because I had no time to write it. In fact, I could think of a dozen things I could write but here I am. More than halfway through March with not a single sentence written. I have no time.<br /><br />Jared went back for his master's degree and since then our life has been barely livable. Jared gets up at the crack of dawn, goes to work, goes to school, goes back to work, comes home, eats dinner, helps put kids to bed, does homework, and then goes to bed late at night long after I've already gone to sleep. Over and over again. There is no time for anything else. <br /><br />With Jared out of the picture, I am the sole laundry, housekeeping, childcare, and food provider. I do this all while waking up multiple times a night with one or more kids. It's hard. It's really hard. I had gotten into a good pattern of getting things done, but that went out the window when I had to figure out how to do that stuff on my own to give Jared time to do homework and get in his fulltime work week and his full time class schedule.<br />
<br />
William has started crawling, so all choking hazards have been banished to the basement. The baby gate at the top of the steps is back up. He has 4 teeth fully in and he's working on more. We started feeding him solid foods, which he thus far hates.<br /><br />Oliver has lost his first two baby teeth and he's starting to learn to read. Colin started preschool one day a week and loves it, but I'll be damned if it isn't the hardest part of my week just getting him out the door to go to school each Friday.<br /><br />There is so much going on, and I am spread way too thinly. I'm not under any delusions. I know that, like every single other person in the entire world, I'm not capable of everything. I can't do everything. I am okay with that, and I really do understand that more than anything...<br />
<br />
...But at the same time, what else can I do? What choice do I have but
to continue trying to do everything right now? I just have to suck it up
and make it through until summer when Jared can help out more. I hate
being so busy. So busy that I feel like I'm not even here for any of
this. One day I realized that William is steadily sitting up on his own,
but then when I looked back at pictures, I realized he's doing it for <i>weeks</i>
and I'm just now noticing. Somehow Colin has begun speaking in more or
less complete grammatical sentences and it didn't even occur to me until
I showed up for his speech assessment and really, truly listened to him
talking for the first time in a long time. <br /><br />The biggest thing
that I miss is having people here to interact with. I've joined a local
mom's group and I attend weekly mommy & me classes, but without any
free time, what chance do I have at making friends? The friends that I
do have aren't local. My parents are two time zones away. Most of my
& Jared's families are far away. I feel like I haven't even spent
any time with Jared since Christmas, despite living in the same house
and sleeping in the same bed each night. Being alone is hard. <br /><br />Don't
get me wrong. I'm not complaining. Or if I am, I'm at least not
forgetting all of the things I'm grateful for. I'm happy that Jared has
this opportunity to go back to school for free. I'm happy that Bill is
growing and learning and changing. I'm happy that we are healthy and
that we have food and clothes and the means to take our kids out to the
zoo and the mall and all the other places we go. I have a million things
that I am grateful for.<br /><br />But still. I am exhausted and lonely. Summer can't come soon enough.<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-yxlzOSXCdXg/VQpOIPVCOAI/AAAAAAAANHg/d7JyamxdUwc/s1600/DSCN4303.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-yxlzOSXCdXg/VQpOIPVCOAI/AAAAAAAANHg/d7JyamxdUwc/s1600/DSCN4303.jpg" height="300" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Colin caught hiding under the table after cutting up a loaf of bread and eating at least a dozen cookies I left on the counter.</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-SOM4CcP4OOE/VQpOETxACjI/AAAAAAAANHY/li60_XBR3Ts/s1600/DSCN4341.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-SOM4CcP4OOE/VQpOETxACjI/AAAAAAAANHY/li60_XBR3Ts/s1600/DSCN4341.jpg" height="300" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">William trying out the new high chair.</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-l22QHEFU6Pc/VQpODuK93nI/AAAAAAAANHQ/u3J3o-uPigg/s1600/DSCN4382.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-l22QHEFU6Pc/VQpODuK93nI/AAAAAAAANHQ/u3J3o-uPigg/s1600/DSCN4382.jpg" height="300" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Jared, Oliver, & Will riding the turtle at the zoo.</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-0f4Gzzi0NLE/VQpOJPcP1BI/AAAAAAAANHo/34xQ0r87WeM/s1600/DSCN4394.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-0f4Gzzi0NLE/VQpOJPcP1BI/AAAAAAAANHo/34xQ0r87WeM/s1600/DSCN4394.jpg" height="400" width="300" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Colin with a plastic toy stuck on his leg.</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-LQfGp0dntrc/VQpOJQ5--4I/AAAAAAAANHs/FMvnWoU6S1A/s1600/DSCN4417.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-LQfGp0dntrc/VQpOJQ5--4I/AAAAAAAANHs/FMvnWoU6S1A/s1600/DSCN4417.jpg" height="300" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Baby just hanging out.</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-1zzRoc7P_PM/VQpONNDn75I/AAAAAAAANH4/p9H_yjwZa70/s1600/DSCN4474.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-1zzRoc7P_PM/VQpONNDn75I/AAAAAAAANH4/p9H_yjwZa70/s1600/DSCN4474.jpg" height="300" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">First food. Carrots.</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-gAuOmmae2pE/VQpON55I5uI/AAAAAAAANIA/IgogQUfWdSo/s1600/DSCN4494.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-gAuOmmae2pE/VQpON55I5uI/AAAAAAAANIA/IgogQUfWdSo/s1600/DSCN4494.jpg" height="400" width="346" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Missing tooth.</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-v67O1PvqL34/VQpOQcET7SI/AAAAAAAANII/dDCbvWse9IY/s1600/DSCN4505.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-v67O1PvqL34/VQpOQcET7SI/AAAAAAAANII/dDCbvWse9IY/s1600/DSCN4505.jpg" height="400" width="297" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Sitting up.</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-5F61bEq3Yec/VQpOQ5dTS8I/AAAAAAAANIQ/AntcHp1vI6c/s1600/DSCN4540.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-5F61bEq3Yec/VQpOQ5dTS8I/AAAAAAAANIQ/AntcHp1vI6c/s1600/DSCN4540.jpg" height="320" width="283" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Carrots take 2.</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-J9meEjtENvM/VQpOR5zzy7I/AAAAAAAANIY/zNyihMf-kX8/s1600/DSCN4550.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-J9meEjtENvM/VQpOR5zzy7I/AAAAAAAANIY/zNyihMf-kX8/s1600/DSCN4550.jpg" height="400" width="300" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">New Spiderman PJs.</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-mcPpBts4lGA/VQpOTZLRnvI/AAAAAAAANIg/EZh25n-OV30/s1600/DSCN4553.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-mcPpBts4lGA/VQpOTZLRnvI/AAAAAAAANIg/EZh25n-OV30/s1600/DSCN4553.jpg" height="326" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">"It was William's turn to choose what we're playing."</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-8mP8DaN16kc/VQpOVAXZNDI/AAAAAAAANIo/AGJzmMGCu6w/s1600/DSCN4597.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-8mP8DaN16kc/VQpOVAXZNDI/AAAAAAAANIo/AGJzmMGCu6w/s1600/DSCN4597.jpg" height="240" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Enthusiasm to try new food. (It was short lived.)</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-yH8BblI16T8/VQpOVxaRHbI/AAAAAAAANIs/Wg3ORTeLjd8/s1600/DSCN4626.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-yH8BblI16T8/VQpOVxaRHbI/AAAAAAAANIs/Wg3ORTeLjd8/s1600/DSCN4626.jpg" height="400" width="301" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Fat baby.</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-KRBg7OagVlM/VQpOWOHNyjI/AAAAAAAANI0/wpooDtW82do/s1600/DSCN4675.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-KRBg7OagVlM/VQpOWOHNyjI/AAAAAAAANI0/wpooDtW82do/s1600/DSCN4675.jpg" height="245" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Baby begging for scraps at the table.</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-KdMy3I8bGzc/VQpOYoRZzUI/AAAAAAAANJA/zQpMGrkrgIY/s1600/DSCN4681.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-KdMy3I8bGzc/VQpOYoRZzUI/AAAAAAAANJA/zQpMGrkrgIY/s1600/DSCN4681.jpg" height="400" width="288" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Colin, with a jar of dirt he brought inside and named "Bonnie."</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-i5c802PmBsM/VQpOY9IUJZI/AAAAAAAANJE/qLRDzr8tPGE/s1600/DSCN4694.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-i5c802PmBsM/VQpOY9IUJZI/AAAAAAAANJE/qLRDzr8tPGE/s1600/DSCN4694.jpg" height="400" width="301" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Eating toast.</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-JjneBPbDS8o/VQpOukz5MWI/AAAAAAAANJQ/3iP1q2XArFg/s1600/DSCN4430.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-JjneBPbDS8o/VQpOukz5MWI/AAAAAAAANJQ/3iP1q2XArFg/s1600/DSCN4430.jpg" height="400" width="336" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Oliver holding his baby brother.</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
Andihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01005237451666032483noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1383876486802610925.post-15488949490423189422015-01-15T16:51:00.001-06:002015-01-15T16:51:21.071-06:00Sitting around all day.Will wants to know why people equate "sitting around all day" with being lazy. Because, really. Does it look like sitting up is easy? <br />
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-mnY563RlrUA/VLhDsoaXpkI/AAAAAAAANCc/t_z2mAyhVnc/s1600/DSCN4159.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-mnY563RlrUA/VLhDsoaXpkI/AAAAAAAANCc/t_z2mAyhVnc/s1600/DSCN4159.jpg" height="400" width="320" /></a></div>
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<a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-Rp6EV_VORlY/VLhDsfiqN6I/AAAAAAAANCY/G7YFDuBy8ew/s1600/DSCN4167.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-Rp6EV_VORlY/VLhDsfiqN6I/AAAAAAAANCY/G7YFDuBy8ew/s1600/DSCN4167.jpg" height="300" width="400" /></a></div>
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<a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-bosp-yJN2Rs/VLhDs13n0uI/AAAAAAAANCg/ff9VvHhfjLg/s1600/DSCN4179.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-bosp-yJN2Rs/VLhDs13n0uI/AAAAAAAANCg/ff9VvHhfjLg/s1600/DSCN4179.jpg" height="300" width="400" /></a></div>
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<a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-Ur6v53lSLv0/VLhDuYLlRuI/AAAAAAAANCw/twkab2rafeE/s1600/DSCN4180.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-Ur6v53lSLv0/VLhDuYLlRuI/AAAAAAAANCw/twkab2rafeE/s1600/DSCN4180.jpg" height="300" width="400" /></a><a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-bUxeL9hspnA/VLhDxJygSjI/AAAAAAAANDI/XwTSvSH9av8/s1600/DSCN4188.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-bUxeL9hspnA/VLhDxJygSjI/AAAAAAAANDI/XwTSvSH9av8/s1600/DSCN4188.jpg" height="300" width="400" /></a></div>
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<a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-rAqQms3F5jA/VLhDwP11QpI/AAAAAAAANDA/5OZMk7D_fFY/s1600/DSCN4184.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-rAqQms3F5jA/VLhDwP11QpI/AAAAAAAANDA/5OZMk7D_fFY/s1600/DSCN4184.jpg" height="300" width="400" /></a></div>
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<br />Andihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01005237451666032483noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1383876486802610925.post-13316859609670634352014-12-30T19:43:00.000-06:002014-12-30T19:43:09.631-06:00Christmas Eve: Say Yes.On Christmas Eve, we went to the beach. But we almost didn't.<br />
<br />
During our whole 2+ week long Florida trip we had been meaning to get out to the beach, but somehow we never quite made it. Living as a family of 5, we've got excuses up the wazoo.<br />
<br />
While I was tucking Oliver into bed on the night of the 23rd, he asked me when we were going to the beach. In my head I pulled up the calendar and realized we didn't have much time left: the next day was Christmas Eve, which we spend with Jared's grandparents. The day after that was Christmas, which we spend with Jared's immediate family. And then the day after that, we were boarding the plane back to Minnesota.<br />
<br />
We didn't really have any time left to go to the beach.<br />
<br />
As I started explaining all of that to Oliver, I realized that I was breaking his heart. So halfway through my excuses, I stopped making up reasons why I was saying no and instead I chose to say yes.<br />
<br />
<i>Yes, Oliver. We will go to the beach. Tomorrow. Sleep well, and tomorrow we will go to the beach.</i><br />
<br />
When "tomorrow" came, it was the windiest, cloudiest day of the whole trip. After finishing my morning pumping session and feeding everyone breakfast and getting everybody dressed, we were off to a late start. We had only a few hours before we were expected to be at Christmas Eve dinner. Again I almost canceled our beach trip, but then I remembered: I said yes.<br />
<br />
We were going. We had to go. I said so.<br />
<br />
As we piled all of the kids into the car, we tried to set their expectations low and set up some ground rules: <i></i><br />
<i><br /></i>
<i>We can't stay long. </i><br />
<i>You can't get all sandy right before we go to Oma & Opa's. </i><br />
<i>The weather isn't very good. </i><br />
<i>UNDER NO CIRCUMSTANCES are we going into the water.</i><br />
<br />
On the drive to the park, Jared and I argued about which part of the beach would be best. Jared wanted to walk along a more secluded trail, but I didn't think we had the time nor the kids' abilities to walk 2 miles at a reasonable pace. I wanted to head to the boring beach area where everybody and his uncle parks their beach umbrellas because it was the easiest choice.<br />
<br />
When we parked the car, we still hadn't decided what to do, so I threw up my hands and decided to give up and walk along the trail Jared chose. A quarter of a mile in, Colin threw himself onto the ground and refused to walk any farther.<br />
<br />
So Jared and I argued more. "I told you this was a bad idea!" was what I may or may not have yelled at Jared multiple times before I took the baby and headed back to the car by myself.<br />
<br />
For the 1/4 mile walk back to the car, I kept imagining how good it would feel to have Jared return with the two cranky, exhausted older boys so that I could smugly say to him, "I told you so."<br />
<br />
But the longer I sat in the car waiting with Bill, the more I realized I didn't want to be angry anymore. I just wanted to have fun with them. When I finally spotted the boys coming down the path towards me, the first thought in my head wasn't, "I told you so" but instead, "I'm sorry."<br />
<br />
Apparently Jared also had the same change of heart, because the first words out of his mouth to me were, "Let's not be angry. I'm sorry."<br />
<br />We sat in our rented minivan and looked at the clock. We had to leave in twenty minutes if we wanted to get home in time to shower and make ourselves look nice for dinner. After a moment's discussion, Jared and I knew what we had to do: We were taking the kids to the beach that they had been hoping so very much to see, even if we only had a few minutes.<br />
<br />As we drove the half mile to the beach's parking lot, we warned the kids that we couldn't stay long. Again, I told them we were not going to be getting sandy or wet right before Christmas Eve dinner.<br /><br />But by the time we got the kids down the little boardwalk path to the beach, I knew there was no way that I could stop them from putting their bare feet into the sand. After waiting so long to see it, I had to let them really experience it. Reluctantly, I said to them,<i> </i>"Alright, guys. Go ahead and take your shoes off and leave them here. But stay out of the water."<i></i><br />
<i><br /></i>It was less than thirty seconds after I finished saying those words that I saw Colin running into the surf. I almost opened my mouth to yell for him to stop, but when I saw how excited he was to play with the waves, I couldn't do it. Instead I settled for rolling up his pant legs and a muttering a half-hearted "try not to get your pants wet."<br />
<br />
At that point in time, I knew I wasn't kidding anybody. I know Colin. I
knew he was going to be in that water. The farther we walked along the
waves, the wetter Colin got. The wetter he got, the more pieces of
clothing we took off of him until finally he was jumping the waves in
nothing but a soaked pair of Sesame Street underwear.<br /><br />Oliver
was right there with Colin, scooping up sand with his bare hands and
throwing rocks into the waves. Oliver's pants, too, were soaked. The
beach was deserted and it was the windiest, cloudiest day you could
imagine but we were having so much fun. We knew we really should be
leaving the beach if we wanted to get home and shower for dinner, but we
saw how joyful those boys were with just the waves and the sand, and we
stayed longer. The shower wasn't worth it.<br /><br />We stayed on that
beach until the very last minute, every single one of us having a great
time. We rushed back to the van when our time was up, laughing at the
piles of sand in Colin's hair. Both older boys were so sandy that we
actually took them over to the dog wash and literally hosed the sand off
of their bodies. While running back into the car, Colin tripped and
skinned his knee. He cried the whole ride home. When we tried to clean
out his scrape, he got so upset that he peed all over himself and Jared.
At one point, all three of our kids were crying in the back of the van.
Jared and I, still riding the high of our successful and offbeat beach
trip, exchanged a look that says, "This is so us! Isn't this funny? Our
life is great."<br /><br />We ended up being late for dinner and walking
through the door with saltwater in our hair, dried tears on our cheeks, and a skinned knee but it
was so worth it. What started out as such a terrible, rushed morning
actually turned into the best hour of our whole vacation. All because we
willed it so. Because we chose to have fun. Because we said, "Yes." <br />
<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-ASon1UZDbeI/VKNOdjVLEiI/AAAAAAAANA8/JU0q9QTlGFg/s1600/DSCN3903.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-ASon1UZDbeI/VKNOdjVLEiI/AAAAAAAANA8/JU0q9QTlGFg/s1600/DSCN3903.jpg" height="300" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Will waiting in the car, but clearly he wasn't angry.</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-Igv-ImK7ZEg/VKNOdlSKR0I/AAAAAAAANBA/T-rGS9NAwQM/s1600/DSCN3906.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-Igv-ImK7ZEg/VKNOdlSKR0I/AAAAAAAANBA/T-rGS9NAwQM/s1600/DSCN3906.jpg" height="300" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Walking to the beach.</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-7aczVbA2ZvE/VKNOecdKQII/AAAAAAAANBE/CHu07zZyGUQ/s1600/DSCN3907.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-7aczVbA2ZvE/VKNOecdKQII/AAAAAAAANBE/CHu07zZyGUQ/s1600/DSCN3907.jpg" height="300" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Almost to the beach, everybody is still dry and fully clothed.</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-5qp0bKnrivM/VKNOf-9ZnTI/AAAAAAAANBU/BJKghq6obzs/s1600/DSCN3909.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-5qp0bKnrivM/VKNOf-9ZnTI/AAAAAAAANBU/BJKghq6obzs/s1600/DSCN3909.jpg" height="298" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Feet on the sand.</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
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<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-3chv-nBlAXU/VKNOImq7T1I/AAAAAAAAM_s/-YiINdF5hh0/s1600/DSCN3917.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-3chv-nBlAXU/VKNOImq7T1I/AAAAAAAAM_s/-YiINdF5hh0/s1600/DSCN3917.jpg" height="300" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Staying out of the water...</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<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://2.bp.blogspot.com/-Xnbz5Y0eIZY/VKNOJkOJ1iI/AAAAAAAAM_4/0QQwxMZLZk4/s1600/DSCN3913.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-Xnbz5Y0eIZY/VKNOJkOJ1iI/AAAAAAAAM_4/0QQwxMZLZk4/s1600/DSCN3913.jpg" height="300" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">...but not for long.</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-6N8QVwvWZfE/VKNOhheLbwI/AAAAAAAANBc/zUqmG7mstfQ/s1600/DSCN3919.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-6N8QVwvWZfE/VKNOhheLbwI/AAAAAAAANBc/zUqmG7mstfQ/s1600/DSCN3919.jpg" height="300" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Colin's signature look on the beach.</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-nQHpjUSM7Xg/VKNOJVtpdkI/AAAAAAAAM_0/TRz_YqpCEwc/s1600/DSCN3935.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-nQHpjUSM7Xg/VKNOJVtpdkI/AAAAAAAAM_0/TRz_YqpCEwc/s1600/DSCN3935.jpg" height="300" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Jumping waves sans pants.</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/--2clolflSwo/VKNOKJgSVtI/AAAAAAAANAA/8xjFrytCSWU/s1600/DSCN3943.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/--2clolflSwo/VKNOKJgSVtI/AAAAAAAANAA/8xjFrytCSWU/s1600/DSCN3943.jpg" height="300" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">So windy.</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-3m5HZVWJau0/VKNOLXkEBOI/AAAAAAAANAM/ZnV399B1-K4/s1600/DSCN3944.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-3m5HZVWJau0/VKNOLXkEBOI/AAAAAAAANAM/ZnV399B1-K4/s1600/DSCN3944.jpg" height="300" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Very sandy. Moderately wet.</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-4K1wzfmwt3Q/VKNOM6G6cQI/AAAAAAAANAU/3GyjJEdN2Q8/s1600/DSCN3945.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-4K1wzfmwt3Q/VKNOM6G6cQI/AAAAAAAANAU/3GyjJEdN2Q8/s1600/DSCN3945.jpg" height="300" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Even more sandy. Even more wet.</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-CIpzx49Bl5A/VKNONk1l2II/AAAAAAAANAg/sMeFzwQwLRw/s1600/DSCN3954.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-CIpzx49Bl5A/VKNONk1l2II/AAAAAAAANAg/sMeFzwQwLRw/s1600/DSCN3954.jpg" height="300" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Baby testing the gulf waters</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-0rDOaUQSqUw/VKNON5mOpuI/AAAAAAAANAo/GIYYWH8L_6c/s1600/DSCN3964.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-0rDOaUQSqUw/VKNON5mOpuI/AAAAAAAANAo/GIYYWH8L_6c/s1600/DSCN3964.jpg" height="300" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Now shirtless and pantless, but still with dry hair.</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-vSAJuyQjAmY/VKNOO-glNTI/AAAAAAAANA0/9uqWga3rXzA/s1600/DSCN3969.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-vSAJuyQjAmY/VKNOO-glNTI/AAAAAAAANA0/9uqWga3rXzA/s1600/DSCN3969.jpg" height="300" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Completely soaked from head to toe after going under.</td></tr>
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Later that night Colin was given a shirt which reads, "Put your toes in the sand. Let the sun kiss your face. Enjoy life." How funny that Colin got to do all of those things only hours before. All because we said yes.
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Will is three months old. Actually, he's been three months old for a while, but. You know. He's the third baby. He gets what he gets and he doesn't get upset.</div>
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I packed away and sold a box full of 0-3 month sized clothing. There is
an empty shelf in the closet left from when I took down the box of 6/9
months' clothing. For once, that space isn't being filled with more baby
clothes to save for later. Part of me feels like I should be sad that this is it. There won't be any more 0-3 little footie pajamas. But the other part of me is able to look at the new, larger clothing and be amazed thinking, <i>he is this big already. He will be able to do so much.</i><br />
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<i><br /></i>Tummy time is already a thing of the past. If he doesn't want to be lying a certain way, he takes matters into his own hands. His fat little belly is so round that a gentle breeze could send him rolling. When I sit down next to him on the floor, he twists his whole body and flails his little arms out towards me to say, <i>Look! I'm right here! Pick me up!</i><br />
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The thing I love most about him is that he is so generous with his smiles. Any tiny thing is a good reason for him to smile. I can leave the room for just two minutes, but you'd better believe that when I return he will kick his legs and squeal with glee as if to say, <i>I was waiting for you! I'm so glad you're back!</i><br />
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Every night when the big kids are in bed, I take this little baby and I sit him up on my knees with our faces just ten inches apart and we talk. You wouldn't think that a 3 month old baby would be such a good conversationalist, but every night he tries so hard to communicate with me. I say a few words to him, and he smiles & coos back to me. Every night. Without fail.<br />
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And it's not just me he loves. He loves his daddy. He loves his brothers. He loves anyone who is near enough to give him a friendly glance. <br />
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On my computer you can scroll and scroll and scroll through all the lines of smiling photos of I have of this baby, and he's only three months old. Every night I take another picture of his smiling face. I think I'm going to need to buy a few more hard drives just to keep up.<br />
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Anyway, happy 3rd (month) birthday, Baby Bill. Keep smiling.Andihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01005237451666032483noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1383876486802610925.post-88780839120401591252014-11-04T15:30:00.001-06:002014-11-04T15:30:19.859-06:00Keep Moving ForwardI think it's safe to say that we are back into our groove since William was born. In the beginning, I gave up on a lot things so I could focus on what I really wanted/needed to get done. I let household chores slip. We used a pre-made meal service. The kids were given practically unlimited screen time, just so we could tackle the things that we <i>needed</i> to get done.<br /><br />But now, slowly but surely, we've been reclaiming our old lifestyle. We've been getting the kids out to play and we're having fun together each weekend. We've been eating two meals each day at the table as a family. We've been working a lot harder to be more understanding as parents, to be less reactive to the negative and more attentive to the positive. We have been doing well as a family of five. We're always running and we've screwed up a lot of stuff, but really, we're doing well. We're patting ourselves on the back, because hey, sometimes it's healthy to be your own biggest cheerleader.<br /><br />Do we have our birth announcements out yet? Nope. Have we loosened our hold over some of the household rules? Yes. Do we walk out the door looking a mess and smelling like sour milk and vomit? Sometimes.<br />
<br />But we're making progress. Each week, we've been working towards doing something. I cleaned out my cupboards. We've cleared out a closet here, a drawer there. We're doing something in the yard. As part of our "moving forward" plan, every day our goal is to (at a minimum!) run a load of laundry or dishes. Because even when everybody is crying and <i>he hit me tell him to stop being naughty! </i>I can climb into bed at night and say, well, at least I did something today. Even if it was only folding a load of towels. That still counts as something!<br /><br />The more we do, the better we get. Everybody has been pitching in and learning his/her place in our newly expanded family. It doesn't feel like this huge endeavor just to get the 5 of us out of the house anymore. Eating a meal in a restaurant all together doesn't cause us anxiety. Our laundry mountains have been tamed into regular, acceptable-sized laundry hills.<br /><br />We are winning! Every day is a little bit of forward progress. Each completed task is a mini victory. The more we win, the more momentum we gain. All of these things that at first seemed like so much work are becoming our new normal, a regular habit. This is the first time in a long time where I am heading into the holiday season feeling more like saying, "Yes! I've got this" instead of, "Wow. I am so overwhelmed."<br />
<br />Each night Jared and I get ready for bed and discuss what we're going to do the next day, the next week, the next year. One of the reasons I love Jared is because he is a nonstop dreamer and/or schemer. He is always chasing after something better, but he's still grateful for what we've got. His favorite saying is, "Don't let a good thing get in the way of a great thing."<br />
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<br />What we've got now is good, but where we're heading is great. And we'll get there one load of laundry at a time. <br /><br />All five of us.<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-gVARGapO7vQ/VFlD6KWxSJI/AAAAAAAAM6Y/cxw40oljk0E/s1600/DSCN3230.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-gVARGapO7vQ/VFlD6KWxSJI/AAAAAAAAM6Y/cxw40oljk0E/s1600/DSCN3230.jpg" height="300" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">A day at the park.</td></tr>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Waiting for lunch.</td></tr>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Watching the solar eclipse.</td></tr>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">The ever happy Baby Bill.</td></tr>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Biggest and littlest boys.</td></tr>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Happy Fatty in his bouncy chair.</td></tr>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">"What does the cow say?" "Neigh." "Are you teasing me?" "Yes."</td></tr>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">A cowboy who is particularly gentle with his cattle.</td></tr>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Big Moo, Little Moo, and the one who wrangles them both.</td></tr>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Moo!</td></tr>
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<br />Andihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01005237451666032483noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1383876486802610925.post-7183969697942286032014-10-16T17:32:00.000-05:002014-10-16T17:32:18.565-05:00Colin. I don't know if you've ever noticed this, but I think Colin might be
what people in the preschool business call "spirited." I tend to go with
the word "naughty" but po-tay-to po-tah-to.<br />
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Colin and his "slime hat" invention.</td></tr>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Colin and his caramel sundae topping sandwiches, with a side of caramel-drizzled mozzarella.</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-gWBGHxUmUdI/VEAM-R0hvTI/AAAAAAAAM4o/83JOvlLaw-U/s1600/colincouch.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-gWBGHxUmUdI/VEAM-R0hvTI/AAAAAAAAM4o/83JOvlLaw-U/s1600/colincouch.jpg" height="300" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Colin, found sleeping on the couch after he snuck upstairs during naptime.</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-188L54wPSzM/VEAO7hVW1UI/AAAAAAAAM48/n9uJR-d8Zi8/s1600/headstandcolin.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-188L54wPSzM/VEAO7hVW1UI/AAAAAAAAM48/n9uJR-d8Zi8/s1600/headstandcolin.jpg" height="300" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Colin standing on his head at the zoo because we refused to carry him.</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-iDyolnEyzbY/VEAPaNvWjxI/AAAAAAAAM5E/3eA5QtiAF1g/s1600/ricecrispycolin.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-iDyolnEyzbY/VEAPaNvWjxI/AAAAAAAAM5E/3eA5QtiAF1g/s1600/ricecrispycolin.jpg" height="300" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Colin, found asleep in his hiding spot with a stolen rice crispy bar.</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/--vmLDHOLIek/VEAPuSFDN7I/AAAAAAAAM5M/MSGAOsMvjYc/s1600/oatmealcolin.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/--vmLDHOLIek/VEAPuSFDN7I/AAAAAAAAM5M/MSGAOsMvjYc/s1600/oatmealcolin.jpg" height="300" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Colin refused to nap so I gave up on naptime and made him oatmeal. He fell asleep.</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-7N2fieftGVs/VEAN1HvRH5I/AAAAAAAAM40/w0v1zSKWUBo/s1600/butter.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-7N2fieftGVs/VEAN1HvRH5I/AAAAAAAAM40/w0v1zSKWUBo/s1600/butter.jpg" height="400" width="335" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Colin caught licking sticks of butter and putting them back into the box.</td></tr>
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<br />Andihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01005237451666032483noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1383876486802610925.post-64515265296775114022014-10-14T17:44:00.002-05:002014-10-14T17:44:50.243-05:00Smile.I was having a bad day. Colin was particularly naughty and defiant at every turn today. He peed his pants at school. I slept poorly last night so I'm more tired than usual. I burnt myself on the stove and then got poop (not my own! I am good with my own poop.) in my open burn wound while changing a diaper. Oliver was distraught because a piece of his artwork got ruined.<br /><br />I finally got the big kids downstairs for their nap, and then when I came back upstairs and started fixing a sandwich for myself I heard the little baby crying. My first thought was <i>No! Go back to sleep! I want to each lunch. Please let me eat lunch. I need to eat lunch by myself right now.</i><br />
<br />I was so overwhelmed that I was two seconds away from calling Jared and saying to him, "Come home. I'm exhausted. Help me."<br /><br />But then William cried out again so I squared my shoulders, took a deep breath and went in to get him. And do you know what he did? He smiled at me. He wasn't wet or hungry or cold. He just wanted me. He smiled at me to say, "Mom! I am so glad you're here. I was in here by myself and I was lonely so I called for you and there you are! I'm so happy."<br />
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It wasn't the first time he's smiled at me. He's been smiling at me pretty reliably for the last week or so, but I needed it so much this afternoon. I needed somebody to smile and remind me to be happy. And there he is.<br />
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First smiles have always been my favorite milestone. There is something so rewarding about that little expression of love and gratitude coming from the person for which you have worked so hard and tirelessly. After weeks of sleepless nights and diaper changes and spit up and turning out the light and saying, "I love you." it's so wonderful to finally <strike>hear</strike> see "I love you too." in return.</div>
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Thanks, Baby Bill, for making my day better. I'm glad you're such a happy little guy. :)</div>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">P.S. Isn't he getting delightfully fat?</td></tr>
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<br /><br />Andihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01005237451666032483noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1383876486802610925.post-41316733801904469622014-10-04T19:23:00.000-05:002014-10-04T19:23:17.763-05:00Say cheese.I bribed them with a KitKat to take these pictures.<br />
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It's harder than you think.Andihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01005237451666032483noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1383876486802610925.post-63168041024853680132014-10-03T15:44:00.000-05:002014-10-03T15:44:16.081-05:00Happy Birthday Oliver<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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Oliver,<br /><br />Last week you turned five.<br />
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As always, I struggled to find the right words to write to you. I started two separate letters, but I deleted them both because I couldn't say anything I really wanted to say. You've been feeling left out since the baby was born. I haven't had the time for you that I used to have. It's true that you're getting the short end of the stick, and I feel guilty for that. So many times you ask me to do something with you, and all I have to offer you is an excuse.<br />
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<i>I have to feed the baby right now. </i><br />
<i>Colin is being naughty right now. </i><br />
<i>I have to get dressed before we leave for school.</i><br />
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You always accept that I'm busy. I can tell you're disappointed, but you accept what I say with such maturity. "Maybe later," you say, and it breaks my heart. I wanted to write something to tell you that this situation is temporary. That I've always got time for you even when I don't. I wanted to write something that would shout to you, <i>You're not left out! You're special! I love you just as much as ever and I always will!<br /></i>I wanted to write those perfect words, because I mean it. All of those things are true. I wanted to write those perfect words, but they just couldn't come out. Nothing was good enough. Nothing conveyed exactly how much you mean to me, whether I have 2 minutes to spend with you or 2 days.<br />
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The truth is, out of all my boys, I struggle the most with parenting you. I'm not even sure if I'm supposed to admit that as your mom, but there it is. I have a hard time knowing exactly what it is I should be doing. Don't get me wrong - it's not that you're a difficult child. You're about as far from being a difficult child as could be. You are so loving and kind and helpful and smart. You can be more patient than a 5 year old has any right to be.<br /><br />But the thing that I struggle with is that, with you, we're always exploring a new frontier. You're the first five year old I've ever had to parent. You've always been the first to go through each age and stage with me, and you've had to put up with every novice mistake I've made along the way. Every unknown phase is, for me, intimidating. It seems like the older you get, the harder the issues become. You're stuck being the guinea pig while I learn how to navigate in deeper waters, and that kills me.<br />
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<br />Tonight you wet the bed (which is completely out of character for you, you've been potty trained since you were 2.5.) and you were completely distressed. Your dad called me in to come comfort you and calm you down. And for the first time in a long time, you sat in my lap, just wanting to be held. It was such a simple solution, holding you. So I did that. I held you on my lap and you said to me, "I'm just having a hard time." I said to you, "It's okay. We all have a hard time sometimes."<br />
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After holding you for a minute you were calm again. I helped you into a clean shirt and I tucked you into your bed and I went back upstairs to my bed, but even at 2am I couldn't stop thinking about sitting down on the floor and holding you in my lap while you pulled yourself together. <br />
<br />At five years old, your world is still small, but your brain is getting so big. I'm often not able to hand out black and white answers to you anymore. When you were younger, explaining things was so much easier. <br /><br /><i>If you bite, it hurts people.</i><br />
<i>If you run too fast, you will fall.<br />If you touch the stove, you will be burnt.<br /></i>Everything you wanted to know used to have an answer that I understood and could explain. But now, you're starting to ask things that I can't always answer.<br />
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<i>People who love you can still hurt your feelings.</i><br />
<i>Sometimes people are rewarded for doing bad things. </i><br />
<i>Life isn't fair.<br /></i>All of these confusing things have been going around and around in your head lately and I've felt like I was failing you. Failing you because I didn't know things any better than you did. Failing you because I have so much on my plate right now that you unfairly get pushed aside, punished for your good behavior and self-sufficiency. But tonight while I laid in bed listening to the rain, I remembered what I said to you:<br /><br />"It's okay. We all have a hard time sometimes."<br />
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<br />And that's the truth. We all have a hard time sometimes. And that's okay. Now is a hard time for all of us as a family, but you still have your place. You're still my big (little) 5 year old. I'm still doing my best. You're still doing your best.<br />
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And that's totally good enough. You are good enough. I couldn't imagine doing this without you, my oldest boy. My steadfast sidekick. The Biggest Brother.<br /><br />Every day I am grateful for you. You are so loved, and you shouldn't doubt that for a second. <br />
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Happy birthday, Oliver.<br />
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<iframe allowfullscreen="" frameborder="0" height="315" src="//www.youtube.com/embed/ZxZaDncvFlc" width="420"></iframe><br />Andihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01005237451666032483noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1383876486802610925.post-18493546767851634582014-09-17T11:28:00.000-05:002014-09-17T11:28:18.490-05:00Good Morning from That Baby.<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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Baby Bill is 4 weeks old today. I mean Will. Or William. Or Little Fatty.<br /><br />We still don't have a stand-out choice of name for him, but he doesn't seem to mind being called "that baby" or "the small one." He is also losing all of his hair, but that doesn't seem to faze him either. </div>
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For the most part, he just hangs out and spends his time pooping or eating or sleeping, as all good babies should. If he's crying, it means that either a.) he's hungry or b.) Colin is antagonizing him. </div>
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He's quite popular around here, so I often bribe the older kids with the opportunity to hold him. "If you pick up the blocks without complaining, you can hold your baby brother!"</div>
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(Sorry, Bill. I can justify this because you won't remember any of the trauma of Colin holding you when you're older.) <br />
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<br />Andihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01005237451666032483noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1383876486802610925.post-53471306564310429452014-09-10T17:27:00.003-05:002014-09-10T17:27:28.122-05:00Minnesota HarvestLast weekend we took our annual trip to <a href="http://minnesotaharvest.net/" target="_blank">Minnesota Harvest</a> to pick our yearly bag of apples. This year, the plywood photo prop got a new coat of paint, and we added to it our newest member.<br />
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Can you believe that baby wouldn't even smile for this?</td></tr>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Exciting tractor wagon ride.</td></tr>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Colin takes tractor rides very seriously.</td></tr>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Selecting a choice apple with Grandma.</td></tr>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Annual selfie on the wagon ride.</td></tr>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Their apples rarely made it into our bag.</td></tr>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Running through the sunflower maze.</td></tr>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">This baby did not contribute to the apple picking.</td></tr>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Jared, ready for the maze.</td></tr>
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Since then, I've been making apple stuff. Apple smoothies. Apple butter. Apple cake. I even made these apple turnovers, which Oliver dubbed "gross burned triangles that aren't even food." <br />
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">So they're not exactly Martha Stewart quality, but I wouldn't go so far as to label them "gross burned triangles."</td><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"> </td><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><br /></td><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><br /></td></tr>
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Next weekend, we're hitting the corn maze. Good thing I won't come home with a giant bag of corn to bake up.Andihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01005237451666032483noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1383876486802610925.post-27092730792114823382014-09-04T10:51:00.003-05:002014-09-04T11:01:29.004-05:00State Fair TimeLast weekend we loaded everyone up and headed to the Minnesota State Fair, in accordance with tradition. We got there early and stayed most of the day so that we could eat an unreasonable amount of fried food. This year we ate:<br /><br />1. Korean BBQ pork collar with kimchi pickles.<br />2. Bison hot dog.<br />3. Pickle dog.<br />4. Big fat bacon, on a stick.<br />5. Cheese curds.<br />6. Smoothies.<br />7. Deep-fried peanut butter buckeyes, on a stick.<br />8. Sno-Ribbons, a weird mix between shaved ice and ice cream.<br />9. A bucket of Sweet Martha's cookies.<br />10. Mini donuts.<br />11. Deep-friend pickles.<br />12. Cotton candy.<br />13. Dairy barn milkshakes.<br />14. Blue cheese corn fritters.<br />15. Chicken in a waffle.<br />
16. Beer gelato.<br />
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Colin enjoying an inflatable flapping man.</td></tr>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Colin trying to cheat in the maze.</td></tr>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Oliver, finally not afraid to jump high this year.</td></tr>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Colin, who is never afraid, whether he should be or not.</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-xdAJFuBtNxk/VAiH0w_hSOI/AAAAAAAAMx8/oltoLJ48jj4/s1600/DSCN2502.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-xdAJFuBtNxk/VAiH0w_hSOI/AAAAAAAAMx8/oltoLJ48jj4/s1600/DSCN2502.jpg" height="300" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">He would have gone a lot higher if he could figure out how to jump.</td></tr>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Jared, enjoying a giant piece of bacon on a stick.</td></tr>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Colin enjoying a deep-fried mess of peanut butter and chocolate on a stick.</td></tr>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">William, who didn't even appreciate the beautiful cows.</td></tr>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">"What does the cow say, Colin?"<br />
"Neigh."</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-Fpagsb5I0LA/VAiH4QXLmUI/AAAAAAAAMyg/aV50BzRri8Y/s1600/DSCN2515.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-Fpagsb5I0LA/VAiH4QXLmUI/AAAAAAAAMyg/aV50BzRri8Y/s1600/DSCN2515.jpg" height="400" width="295" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Annual photo op in the horse barn.</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
Now that September is here, we'll be frantically running around trying to pack in the last few weekends of outdoor fun before the cold sets in. Our weekends are already booked for the corn maze, apple picking, Oliver's birthday, and the pumpkin patch.<br />
<br />
Things have been going surprisingly well here on the home front. William is a pretty easy-going baby. I'm tired, but I'm not as tired as I could be. This time around I've made it a lot easier on myself. I've given up completely on doing any housework. I've got premade frozen meals for dinner. The kids have been making their own lunches. I've let other people do the work for me.<br />
<br />
And while the house is a complete mess and the kids have eaten yogurt and dry cereal for lunch almost every day, it's so much better this way. It's too bad it took me until our last baby to figure this out.Andihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01005237451666032483noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1383876486802610925.post-86131312297027331092014-08-24T12:15:00.001-05:002014-08-24T13:07:37.063-05:00We're home.When we were discharged from the hospital on Friday, the nurse going over our discharge orders remarked multiple times about how calm we all were about going home with a newborn.<br />
<br />
"You must have done this before, you look so relaxed!"<br />
<br />
And really, somehow, I am. A few weeks ago I was panicking about how all of this would work but we've made it here and now I can finally remember: <i>Oh yeah, we've got this. We're good at this.</i><br />
<br />
Because we are. Jared and I? We make a great team. I am the boob-latching expert; he is the diaper-changing guru. We've done this before. We've done it well. The hospital was almost like a little vacation for us, because taking care of one sleepy newborn baby was so easy by comparison to our normal routine. We ordered Chinese takeout and had a date night in our hospital room with HGTV playing over the crappy hospital bed speakers. It was one of the nicest nights we've had together in a long time.<br />
<br />
On the drive home, we casually swung by Target to make a diaper run. (It's true, we had no newborn diapers. I didn't imagine a baby of mine could be so small.) When we pulled into our neighborhood, we saw that the road resurfacing work was going on right in front of our house. While we were carefully navigating our way through the neighborhood streets without wet asphalt, we heard William barf up a little bit and start coughing/choking on it. I stopped the car and Jared automatically unbuckled himself and leapt into the backseat to get William out of his car seat. Jared got him out just in time to get splattered in a second bout of baby barf. Then, as soon as William stopped choking, he curled his legs up, arched his back, and let out an explosive shit.<br />
<br />
There are other, nicer, ways I could put it but let's be real. It was an explosive shit.<br />
<br />
At that moment, pulled off to the side of a loud, active construction site in a car reeking of breastmilky vomit and hot asphalt, we both started laughing hysterically. Because this is our life. This is how things go. And let's be real: <br />
<br />
It's pretty funny.<br />
<br />
Once we were able to stop laughing, we continued the circuitous drive home and discovered that there was no way to get to our house except over freshly-laid asphalt. So we drove over it, leaving light tire indentations that forced the angry crew of steamrollers to drive over our tracks.<br />
<br />
We smiled and waved with our barfy, poopy newborn as the steamrolling
men drove by, then walked up to the house to find welcome home signs
made by Colin & Oliver. And when I saw those signs I thought to
myself, "Yeah. We've done well."<br />
<br />
We are so fortunate to have such an amazing life right now. I don't know how I ever doubted us. <br />
<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-MPXYwosnNJo/U_ocxpZl1sI/AAAAAAAAMwQ/0KhX2dejb04/s1600/DSCN2368.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-MPXYwosnNJo/U_ocxpZl1sI/AAAAAAAAMwQ/0KhX2dejb04/s1600/DSCN2368.jpg" height="300" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Ready to leave the hospital.</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
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<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-F6BZIDOwSBo/U_ocxb9i6cI/AAAAAAAAMwM/vZJmmusTWV8/s1600/DSCN2370.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-F6BZIDOwSBo/U_ocxb9i6cI/AAAAAAAAMwM/vZJmmusTWV8/s1600/DSCN2370.jpg" height="300" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Taking a rest after eating.</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
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<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-0AMe4lhaY0E/U_ocyz_mePI/AAAAAAAAMwc/7mQc2a9SdRM/s1600/DSCN2373.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-0AMe4lhaY0E/U_ocyz_mePI/AAAAAAAAMwc/7mQc2a9SdRM/s1600/DSCN2373.jpg" height="400" width="300" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Biggest brother Oliver and tiniest brother William.</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-0t2nBqPYvuY/U_oc0NBsoMI/AAAAAAAAMwo/P7x-24rMZ4A/s1600/DSCN2383.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-0t2nBqPYvuY/U_oc0NBsoMI/AAAAAAAAMwo/P7x-24rMZ4A/s1600/DSCN2383.jpg" height="300" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Daddy, big brother Colin, little brother William.</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
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<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-5n9_E9K4teQ/U_oc06hCY3I/AAAAAAAAMwk/TOHfnNn4T9k/s1600/DSCN2397.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-5n9_E9K4teQ/U_oc06hCY3I/AAAAAAAAMwk/TOHfnNn4T9k/s1600/DSCN2397.jpg" height="300" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Tiny 8 lb 13 oz baby and giant 2 lb 2 oz tomato from my garden.</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<br />
<br />Andihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01005237451666032483noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1383876486802610925.post-9377544046241663822014-08-22T11:20:00.002-05:002014-08-22T11:20:35.893-05:00One last baby.<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">
The last member of our family decided to show up last Wednesday. This is William.</div>
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<img border="0" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-XXfqn6qxUPg/U_dcWOb0dSI/AAAAAAAAMvQ/vjnnglrj_bc/s1600/DSCN2288.jpg" height="300" width="400" /></div>
<br />
At 8 pounds and 12.6 ounces, he is by far the smallest of our boys. He decided to come out without an induction, and he was kind enough to be born in one contraction. He's a pretty considerate guy. <br />
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<a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-N80jtIdWAoU/U_dcWuEW8nI/AAAAAAAAMvc/i_uLLCZflE4/s1600/DSCN2327.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-N80jtIdWAoU/U_dcWuEW8nI/AAAAAAAAMvc/i_uLLCZflE4/s1600/DSCN2327.jpg" height="300" width="400" /></a></div>
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Oliver and Colin got to see him a couple hours after he was born. They both seemed to like him alright.<br />
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<a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-84KFYhqxlUE/U_dcWUCp7EI/AAAAAAAAMvU/bv_b8SVjUAI/s1600/DSCN2333.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-84KFYhqxlUE/U_dcWUCp7EI/AAAAAAAAMvU/bv_b8SVjUAI/s1600/DSCN2333.jpg" height="300" width="400" /></a></div>
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Since then, we've just been hanging out at the hospital watching mediocre home remodeling shows on TV.<br />
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<a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-dvHHsdL0VGw/U_dcXA1VZrI/AAAAAAAAMvk/XKiXvpHKi1M/s1600/DSCN2350.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-dvHHsdL0VGw/U_dcXA1VZrI/AAAAAAAAMvk/XKiXvpHKi1M/s1600/DSCN2350.jpg" height="400" width="300" /></a></div>
<br />
After being admitted to the hospital, we finally figured out a name. His full name is William Sterling. <br />
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<a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-wE5LR2tNzX8/U_dcX6pwzUI/AAAAAAAAMvo/FqpX6FBHSRM/s1600/DSCN2357.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-wE5LR2tNzX8/U_dcX6pwzUI/AAAAAAAAMvo/FqpX6FBHSRM/s1600/DSCN2357.jpg" height="300" width="400" /></a></div>
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Does he look like a Will? A Bill? Who knows. Certainly not us. <br />
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<a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-eKzWoipKx0s/U_dcYR7dm4I/AAAAAAAAMv0/agP7am_kmh4/s1600/DSCN2360.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-eKzWoipKx0s/U_dcYR7dm4I/AAAAAAAAMv0/agP7am_kmh4/s1600/DSCN2360.jpg" height="300" width="400" /></a></div>
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We're waiting for some bilirubin test results before we can leave the hospital and head back home. So far, so good.Andihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01005237451666032483noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1383876486802610925.post-13266567581153868782014-08-19T17:40:00.001-05:002014-08-19T17:40:44.435-05:00Pictures.<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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I've just been sitting here doing a bunch of nothing, so I don't really have anything exciting to report. The kids have been in swimming lessons. They're resurfacing our road. Nothing else going on here. Here are some photos from the last few weeks. </div>
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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;"><img border="0" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-DNLmxGAMhlc/U_PPxyyqc0I/AAAAAAAAMso/hWo7SEsUtEU/s1600/DSCN2088.jpg" height="400" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;" width="298" /></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Monkeys at the zoo.</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
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<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-2G47cNoPopA/U_PPyFJC85I/AAAAAAAAMss/Y-X5Kr_nl6Y/s1600/DSCN2096.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-2G47cNoPopA/U_PPyFJC85I/AAAAAAAAMss/Y-X5Kr_nl6Y/s1600/DSCN2096.jpg" height="298" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Riding the tiger.</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
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<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-mFV3wnpUitI/U_PPyfiv52I/AAAAAAAAMsw/4HKCIDZMIAA/s1600/DSCN2099.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-mFV3wnpUitI/U_PPyfiv52I/AAAAAAAAMsw/4HKCIDZMIAA/s1600/DSCN2099.jpg" height="300" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Caribou.</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
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<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-HXdTiN0bIQU/U_PPzYZXfEI/AAAAAAAAMtA/yMMzCsk9F1I/s1600/DSCN2101.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-HXdTiN0bIQU/U_PPzYZXfEI/AAAAAAAAMtA/yMMzCsk9F1I/s1600/DSCN2101.jpg" height="300" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Dhole statue.</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
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<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-A9mkJvwHb0Y/U_PPz4D9clI/AAAAAAAAMtE/7gaeEURjfM4/s1600/DSCN2126.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-A9mkJvwHb0Y/U_PPz4D9clI/AAAAAAAAMtE/7gaeEURjfM4/s1600/DSCN2126.jpg" height="300" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Excitement of World's Largest Lefse museum.</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="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-zVmTuG3AMJk/U_PP0Mn0GaI/AAAAAAAAMtI/5l-mIJWXSBg/s1600/DSCN2131.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-zVmTuG3AMJk/U_PP0Mn0GaI/AAAAAAAAMtI/5l-mIJWXSBg/s1600/DSCN2131.jpg" height="300" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Colin eating a donut.</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-j47ybnXvgaw/U_PP0_B4AdI/AAAAAAAAMtY/jzQ4IMRN-0I/s1600/DSCN2137.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-j47ybnXvgaw/U_PP0_B4AdI/AAAAAAAAMtY/jzQ4IMRN-0I/s1600/DSCN2137.jpg" height="300" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Colin br(e)aking the train car.</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-sfPjvlz46-8/U_PP1DvtiYI/AAAAAAAAMtk/qfIv5Jic9us/s1600/DSCN2146.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-sfPjvlz46-8/U_PP1DvtiYI/AAAAAAAAMtk/qfIv5Jic9us/s1600/DSCN2146.jpg" height="300" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Oliver trying his best not to be afraid.</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-s2Kg6dJcMI8/U_PP2azw7SI/AAAAAAAAMts/7iczHWD4-fg/s1600/DSCN2187.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-s2Kg6dJcMI8/U_PP2azw7SI/AAAAAAAAMts/7iczHWD4-fg/s1600/DSCN2187.jpg" height="300" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Oliver swimming (with a lifejacket) for the first time.</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-H_LtzG0Eu-U/U_PP1Q_VSeI/AAAAAAAAMtc/hXnTAhnnYeY/s1600/DSCN2186.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-H_LtzG0Eu-U/U_PP1Q_VSeI/AAAAAAAAMtc/hXnTAhnnYeY/s1600/DSCN2186.jpg" height="300" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Colin watching from the safety of the boat.</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
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<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-AOM42IuUo9w/U_PP2zlc7LI/AAAAAAAAMt0/boHMqCqpMkQ/s1600/DSCN2200.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-AOM42IuUo9w/U_PP2zlc7LI/AAAAAAAAMt0/boHMqCqpMkQ/s1600/DSCN2200.jpg" height="300" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Disappointment at asking for a snack and getting his picture taken instead.</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-itF_KuYCtuY/U_PP38RQ9EI/AAAAAAAAMuA/9jymClaAOoc/s1600/DSCN2211.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-itF_KuYCtuY/U_PP38RQ9EI/AAAAAAAAMuA/9jymClaAOoc/s1600/DSCN2211.jpg" height="300" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">We tried our best to selfie on the boat.</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-29zu_jMpSLg/U_PP5dhyCkI/AAAAAAAAMuI/wCquAY_TwKc/s1600/DSCN2215.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-29zu_jMpSLg/U_PP5dhyCkI/AAAAAAAAMuI/wCquAY_TwKc/s1600/DSCN2215.jpg" height="300" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">The favorite part of the cabin - the rock gathering grounds.</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-IWsH1F19L9I/U_PP6D4aFuI/AAAAAAAAMuQ/usm-KfzjeZ0/s1600/DSCN2220.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-IWsH1F19L9I/U_PP6D4aFuI/AAAAAAAAMuQ/usm-KfzjeZ0/s1600/DSCN2220.jpg" height="400" width="300" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Colin in his country club golf attire.</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-zYESOVOsYr8/U_PP7h5hujI/AAAAAAAAMuY/x-Xff6RBSNo/s1600/DSCN2267.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-zYESOVOsYr8/U_PP7h5hujI/AAAAAAAAMuY/x-Xff6RBSNo/s1600/DSCN2267.jpg" height="300" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Watching the monarch chrysalises hatch.</td></tr>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Local Touch-A-Truck event.</td></tr>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Operating a forklift without proper certification.</td></tr>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Tubing down the Cannon River.</td></tr>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Haul of tomatoes from earlier today.</td></tr>
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Happy Tuesday.<br />
<br />Andihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01005237451666032483noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1383876486802610925.post-32533407486176010182014-08-04T14:24:00.001-05:002014-08-04T14:24:11.959-05:00It's bodily functions all over the place.Yesterday we started the earnest effort of potty training Colin. I'd been feeling guilty for months about him still being in diapers at 27 months old. Yesterday he didn't want to be chased down for a new diaper so we threw our hands up in the air and said, "Fine. Go in the potty."<br /><br />Since then we've been filling his cup with juice and loading him up with fruit to make him go about a million times each hour. Yesterday there was a reasonable amount of pee on the floor, despite the fact that Colin never seemed to really leave the potty. But today? Maybe it's working. First thing this morning he peed a little on the floor, but had the presence of mind to stop and run to the potty to finish. Since then he's gone on the potty every single time, #1 & #2.<br /><br />Which, I know, probably isn't that exciting for you. And you're probably thinking, "Why is she doing this the week before her new baby is due?"<br /><br />Because I'm crazy. Because our house always seems crazy. Because I can't imagine it being less crazy after the baby is born.<br /><br />So why not.<br />
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In order to make the entire household excited, I instated a rule where we all get to party with a square of Hershey's chocolate for every successful pee attempt. Oliver being on board makes Colin so much more excited, because everybody knows Oliver's opinion is more important than mine. When Colin did his half miss/half hit performance this morning, Oliver was upset that I was praising Colin even though some pee ended up on the floor.<br /><br />Oliver: Good job? That's not a good job. <br />Me: Yes it is. He stopped peeing on the floor so he could pee on the potty.<br />Oliver: He failed.<br />Me: No he didn't! He's learning and doing a good job. That's not nice to say to him.<br />Oliver, to Colin: Fine, Colin. Good job of peeing on the floor.<br />
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You have take the compliments you can get from Oliver. He calls 'em like he sees 'em. Andihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01005237451666032483noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1383876486802610925.post-16371554208214928752014-07-27T11:59:00.001-05:002014-07-27T11:59:53.049-05:00End of July Garden<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">
We just got back from a week-long vacation. I have pictures from last week, but the first thing I did when I got back in town was to run to the backyard and look at all of my plants. I left the garden in my mom's expert hands, and now it's looking better than ever.</div>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">All three beds hanging out earlier this morning.</td></tr>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Onions are starting to bulb.</td></tr>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">One of a million dragonflies that likes to hang out in my garden.</td></tr>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Caution: spicy hot peppers. And we've got loads of them.</td></tr>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">'Sugar baby' watermelons growing up their trellis.</td></tr>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">One of four baby 'sugar baby' watermelons on the vine.</td></tr>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">A hiding clump of green zebra tomatoes starting to turn zebra-y.</td></tr>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Tomatillos I've been waiting a long time for.</td></tr>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">A hidden 'alibi' cucumber that's almost the perfect pickle size.</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-xL_65pNlP2A/U9UlWL-hpHI/AAAAAAAAMrU/rs6tmjIibvs/s1600/DSCN2241.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-xL_65pNlP2A/U9UlWL-hpHI/AAAAAAAAMrU/rs6tmjIibvs/s1600/DSCN2241.jpg" height="300" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">One branch of jalapeƱos from one plant.</td></tr>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">A mystery variety tomato. Colin pulled out my garden markers, and I can only remember half of the tomatoes. I think I've narrowed it down between 'Tennessee britches' and 'Cherokee purple' varieties.</td></tr>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">This monster tomato makes me think it is indeed 'Tennessee britches' but I could be wrong! Time will tell.</td></tr>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">A few little blueberries that didn't get eaten by birds on our baby blueberry bushes.</td></tr>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">A giant bowl of green beans, tomatoes, cucumbers and a hot pepper that my mom picked yesterday. We have more beans in the fridge. My parents already ate a few meals of beans. We've got a lot of beans.</td></tr>
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It was nice to come back to the garden after a week away and see all of the progress it's made. Today we're pickling the green beans we've gotten so far, along with the cucumbers and some hot peppers. I think most of the other beans will be blanched and then frozen for use throughout the year. I'm waiting impatiently for the tomatoes to ripen so I can make salsa with the hot peppers and a couple onions. In the fall, the onion leaves will die and flop over and I'll dry the rest for use throughout the winter. The few blueberries we've had escape the birds have been eaten almost immediately by Jared and Colin.<div>
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It's kind of amazing how much food can be grown in 96 sq feet of dirt, with 15 minutes of my time each day.<br /><br /></div>
Andihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01005237451666032483noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1383876486802610925.post-66957252006175003592014-07-14T14:52:00.000-05:002014-07-14T14:52:05.543-05:00Donuts.Yesterday I left the kids watching TV while I took a phone call. When I came back out, I looked for Colin and couldn't find him. Actually, I noticed that the container of donuts was missing from the counter before I noticed Colin was nowhere to be found.<br /><br />I eventually found him (and the empty donut container) under the dining room table. He ate the last two donuts and a few grapes before passing out on the floor.<br />
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">The scene of Colin's crime: a grape, a smear of chocolate frosting, and the empty donut box.</td></tr>
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Ask Colin to go find his shoes and he can't. Hide a single M&M somewhere in the house and he will tear everything apart until he finds it. I call it the Law of Colin.Andihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01005237451666032483noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1383876486802610925.post-63205141622309755062014-07-02T15:30:00.000-05:002014-07-02T15:30:54.803-05:00July in the garden.<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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I've spent my whole life thinking I don't like blueberries. Today, curiosity got the better of me while I was sitting on the deck and I ate one of the first ripe berries from our new bushes. To my surprise, it was amazing. I picked and ate all of the remaining ripe ones. I guess I've never had a good blueberry before now. I might even have to buy more bushes.<br /><div class="" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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With July officially here, the garden is growing well. I'm so glad that we put my beds in this year, because I don't know how I would be sane if I didn't have this little naptime diversion each day.<div class="" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">A little snack of peas for Jared's lunch and a sampling of hot peppers for his co-worker.</td></tr>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Cherry tomatoes getting ready to start changing colors.</td></tr>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">My new raised beds as seen from above. Beans, onions, lettuce, tomatillos, tomatoes, cucumbers, hot peppers, carrots, and melons.</td></tr>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">'Northcountry' blueberries gearing up for end of July harvest.</td></tr>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">'Jelly Bean' blueberries starting to ripen right now.</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-JYNSyzS8jv4/U7RmB8pJxFI/AAAAAAAAMok/63C-Pxrkn18/s1600/DSCN1954.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-JYNSyzS8jv4/U7RmB8pJxFI/AAAAAAAAMok/63C-Pxrkn18/s1600/DSCN1954.jpg" height="300" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">'Marianna's Peace' tomato, on its way to becoming a 2 lb giant.</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-zbuoKWoHnJQ/U7RmCHP7EFI/AAAAAAAAMos/96h6bxY8CMw/s1600/DSCN1955.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-zbuoKWoHnJQ/U7RmCHP7EFI/AAAAAAAAMos/96h6bxY8CMw/s1600/DSCN1955.jpg" height="300" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">One of hundreds of tomatillo blossoms being pollinated by a little bug friend.</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-X2LD9W9bjuk/U7RmCrUpFXI/AAAAAAAAMo0/8v5hLBAKJ9w/s1600/DSCN1956.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-X2LD9W9bjuk/U7RmCrUpFXI/AAAAAAAAMo0/8v5hLBAKJ9w/s1600/DSCN1956.jpg" height="640" width="480" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Lettuce waiting to be thinned.</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-0uTVkEuCUwY/U7RmDc9yzhI/AAAAAAAAMo8/0A-Lpqr_ubM/s1600/DSCN1957.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-0uTVkEuCUwY/U7RmDc9yzhI/AAAAAAAAMo8/0A-Lpqr_ubM/s1600/DSCN1957.jpg" height="640" width="480" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Pole beans twisting to the top of their trellis.</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-3tKEGG_A5KQ/U7RmDllN7uI/AAAAAAAAMpE/MbJlDzKouX4/s1600/DSCN1958.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-3tKEGG_A5KQ/U7RmDllN7uI/AAAAAAAAMpE/MbJlDzKouX4/s1600/DSCN1958.jpg" height="640" width="480" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Future <strike>cucumber</strike> pickle in the making.</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-uN8Flu-wteU/U7RmEUUg3hI/AAAAAAAAMpM/9jnA83T8gT0/s1600/DSCN1959.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-uN8Flu-wteU/U7RmEUUg3hI/AAAAAAAAMpM/9jnA83T8gT0/s1600/DSCN1959.jpg" height="300" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">A glut of what I thought were supposed to be lemon peppers, but they appear to be turning red. Surprise!</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-3O16315vCWE/U7RmFAT4kmI/AAAAAAAAMpU/0ItyxXH6FjM/s1600/DSCN1960.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-3O16315vCWE/U7RmFAT4kmI/AAAAAAAAMpU/0ItyxXH6FjM/s1600/DSCN1960.jpg" height="300" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Onion scapes hanging out.</td></tr>
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We have the contractors coming to our house tomorrow to (hopefully!) continue work on our project and get things sorted out. I'm kind of worried about that. I just want things to be done and to be done nicely. <br /><br />But at least my garden looks good, right? Andihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01005237451666032483noreply@blogger.com0