tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-69958976050875925882024-03-05T16:38:08.397-07:00a bird's nestUnknownnoreply@blogger.comBlogger154125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6995897605087592588.post-56661318980366389362013-09-30T16:02:00.000-06:002013-09-30T16:02:47.373-06:00The Big ONE<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="color: #444444;">My Bird,<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="color: #444444;">One year ago I learned something that words cannot even
begin to describe. Something that four little letters seemed so subpar to label
it with. I learned there is a love far greater than any I’ve ever known, and
that love is totally wrapped up in you. Your eyes drew me in the moment that I
first saw you and I’ve been mesmerized by you every day since. And I knew at that first instant, that God
had given me the most important job in the world; to be your mother. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="color: #444444;">One year ago at 1:21 I heard your sweet cry. I spent that
entire night staring at your precious face, thanking God for this blessing. One
year ago, your daddy held you for the first time, and I don’t think he’ll ever
let go. One year ago we became a family of three. And without a doubt this has
been the best year of our little life. Because of you I am so much more than I
ever thought I wanted to be. I’m a mom, a healer, a comforter, someone to laugh
with (and at), and a security. I’m a personal chef, maid, and chauffer, to the
most grateful of employees. Because of you and your dad I know the deepest
meaning of love and gratitude. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="color: #444444;">As if overnight my 7lb 15oz tender soul turned into a
charismatic walking talking one year old. You’ve come so far in one short year,
I am so eager to watch you grow for the rest of eternity. Don’t stop here my
Bird, you have a world ahead of you. You are the light of everyone’s life. You
walk into a room and it’s instantly filled with laughter. People always tell me
it’s that smile with your eyes that just seem to be so contagious. Play some
music and you’ll start an entire dance party with complete strangers. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="color: #444444;">You have become such a beautiful girl, inside and out.
Whatever you have, you want to share it with others. Rather it be your snack or
your smile, you seem to spread like wild fire. You have a confidence about you
on the things that you’re sure of, but are humble to stay by my side until you
master your goal. You are quick to
learn; new dace moves, high fives and pound-it, body parts, and words. You
assume that everyone on the phone is your Nana. If you haven’t seen Daddy in a
while you are sure to talk nonstop about him. Once you wake up from your nap,
it’s all about calling for Mama. And the boys are your favorite puppies to
cuddle and converse with. You take full
advantage of any down time the boys have and cuddle up with them on the floor. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="color: #444444;">You are a solid girl…you know what you want when you want
it. Pointing followed by a few indistinguishable words will usually get the
point across. You love shoes… LOVE shoes. Your shoes, my shoes, Grandmas
shoes…doesn’t matter; you attempt to walk around in them. You will knock on the
front door and tell yourself to come it. And when you get mad at the dogs for
tripping you, you’re sure to scold them with large amounts of attitude. You’ll
try any food once but you will eat fruit all day long. You eat three eggs for
breakfast. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="color: #444444;">Your accomplishments go on and on. You’re perfect. Not in a
way that I used to understand, but in a way that through every insecurity I
might have as a mother, I see you as perfection. You give me the courage and
strength to be a better me. I hope that I never fail you. I love you my baby
Bird. Know that above all things…you are so very loved. </span><o:p></o:p></div>
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Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6995897605087592588.post-54750960044215088372013-09-02T11:07:00.000-06:002013-09-02T11:07:00.441-06:00Five Ways to Say "Pull"Retirement has brought a lot of new hobbies to my Pop, and one of them is perfecting his highly skilled shooting abilities. He's a Trap and Skeet shooter, and dang good too. Better than any other. I practiced my trigger pulling and played a couple rounds of trap while my Pop and his fellow teammates shot skeet.<br />
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Found my new favorite hobby. </div>
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Sunday brought a trip to the Zoo. Bird enjoyed cruising around on Poppas shoulders.<br /></div>
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And the rest of the weekend was well spent with exploring with Nana. </div>
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Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6995897605087592588.post-35086851097871737282013-08-18T16:27:00.001-06:002013-08-18T16:27:35.816-06:00Sundays In The Park<div class="MsoNormal">
You know what I love? Sundays in the park. Maybe preceded by
a bike ride with the boys, and followed by some dancing to music in the
meadow. Bring a couple of tuna fish
sandwiches and a Yoo-hoo or two and call it a lunch. Throw all of these
together and you’ve got yourself a mighty fine Sunday. <o:p></o:p></div>
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Turns out I just had me a pretty dang perfect Sunday. <o:p></o:p></div>
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And don't forget your camera...because it's perfect outside for some picture takin'.</div>
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Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6995897605087592588.post-74235501684861586892013-08-14T11:14:00.000-06:002013-08-14T15:24:12.609-06:00Month 11<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEieuxrrAQZvtSxcMb4CKqygMT9GQiWsZtSdnKMSu7D-w_aUQgZecTrFpJsytAKJw_NOe1-cP9pDwyj9ys2uY_KPgYpymNdO6w9CpG85DyVGgFR8h8ZO1RjWsNOIim_T3M82goBdvkFgRGA/s1600/bird.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEieuxrrAQZvtSxcMb4CKqygMT9GQiWsZtSdnKMSu7D-w_aUQgZecTrFpJsytAKJw_NOe1-cP9pDwyj9ys2uY_KPgYpymNdO6w9CpG85DyVGgFR8h8ZO1RjWsNOIim_T3M82goBdvkFgRGA/s320/bird.jpg" width="212" /></a><span style="color: #444444;">Another month of travels for you Bird. You, Nana, Papa, Dad
and I all piled in the truck once more and drove 8 hours to Longmont, Colorado.
And once we got there, we drove some
more. For a split second, we thought Dad’s job was going to move us there. It
would have been a big town, with lots of parks, lots of people, and even more
stores. But after a lot of thought, we decided we’re pretty happy with our
selection of parks and people right here at home.</span></div>
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<span style="color: #444444;">I’m so smitten by you; always have been, always will be.
Every day your smile gets bigger and just when I think my heart can’t any fuller,
your crooked little grin fills it up even more. You have truly found your place
in this little family, right in the center. You’re a daredevil, a thinker, and
even more so a doer. You’re quite the performer thinking that everything you do
deserves a standing ovation…and you get it. You play peek-a-boo with anything
that you can pull over your head; blankets, pillows…the cat, whatever. I’m
seeing your little sensitive soul shining through. One stern word and you’re
all tears. Dad told you to stay out of the dog food (seriously kid, when will
that end??) and there you went, screaming down the hall way to find me. Another
moment later and you’re in the kitchen cupboards. With Dad right behind you,
you were quick to redirect yourself elsewhere.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiFKxRF8lZdNdfAmw5b4XtA_C6LI5a8XvxkFBB7XFnZrvCiQlUn19oEJkNlCNTZEYzVAwOPX1Qhyphenhyphenc9Ku7kRVBZh6H6U5wwLGUug5HLxmQm1EE6G2GWsh66kTciUgvLqYh3N-ka4bTe2iPU/s1600/2013-08-09+17.12.32.png" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiFKxRF8lZdNdfAmw5b4XtA_C6LI5a8XvxkFBB7XFnZrvCiQlUn19oEJkNlCNTZEYzVAwOPX1Qhyphenhyphenc9Ku7kRVBZh6H6U5wwLGUug5HLxmQm1EE6G2GWsh66kTciUgvLqYh3N-ka4bTe2iPU/s320/2013-08-09+17.12.32.png" width="219" /></a><span style="color: #444444;"> You have this sense
of life already. You seem to know what’s what. You are quick to make decisions
about what you want (or don’t want) and usually there is nothing to do to change
your mind. That’s one of my favorite things about you. You know what, how, and
when you want it and it’s usually always now. You’re eating everything.
Whatever we put in front of you, you eat it, which makes life so much easier
for everyone.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="color: #444444;">You’re beginning to identify objects with words. Mama, Dad, “Ba”
for the boys, and everything else is Dih-dih. But when you see Frankie you just
scream with excitement. You and Frankie are just beginning your relationship.
He steered clear of the baby stage, but for some reason is right by your side
through your pulling-tugging-hitting stage.
You give him the biggest bear-hugs every time he lies next to you. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="color: #444444;">Since the time you were born, Grandma has been teaching you
anatomy. Maybe it has something to do with her Nursing school, but you have
finally located the nose. Your nose. My nose. The boys’ nose. The nose of the
man on TV. Grandma is on to eyes next, and before long you’ll know the
whereabouts of the clavicle and xiphoid process. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="color: #444444;">It’s all about the speed right now. Walking is for babies,
but running is for big kids. (Flying for the Birds? Oi vey) You throw your arms
up in the air and take off. Daredevil, I say. Anything that gives you a rush,
you ask to over and over (and over and over and over) again. Dancing crazy around
the living room and Grandpa is your favorite. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEimOzVDFF_bF0ZHPsJ9cRsf33U_xdPQMCbIWWQfR8kBymslZ3lXSqkatG7fh_opcDbXK4O42LW1lEFU2FXdyB0jzqkEditTPOAbWqj-UyPnP36H3eSu37TAEMa_vMNVXL8rgxH7DAFH0cw/s1600/20130810_110002.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEimOzVDFF_bF0ZHPsJ9cRsf33U_xdPQMCbIWWQfR8kBymslZ3lXSqkatG7fh_opcDbXK4O42LW1lEFU2FXdyB0jzqkEditTPOAbWqj-UyPnP36H3eSu37TAEMa_vMNVXL8rgxH7DAFH0cw/s320/20130810_110002.jpg" width="180" /></a><span style="color: #444444;"><br /></span></div>
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<span style="color: #444444;">We went fishing. And since you love water so much, it was
hard to keep you out of the lake with the fish; very counterproductive.
Nonetheless, you had the time of your life.
Just like your Momma, your love for animals is shinning through; definitely
the boys (which, by the way, you are sneaking the majority of your breakfast to
right now) and Frankie, but recently chickens and the horses. Every time the
chickens cluck you’re right there with them chirping away. You just want to
touch one but I’m going to hold off on the chicken chasing for now. The horses
are a little more intimidating now that you realize the power of size. But you just want to be near them.<o:p></o:p></span><br />
<span style="color: #444444;"><br /></span>
<span style="color: #444444;">You love to pull things behind you. Drum to the beat of music. You put things on the floor and then stomp on them. Everything ends up in the dog's water bowl. And you can put your arms and legs through your clothes by yourself. </span></div>
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<span style="color: #444444;">Next month is emotionally off limits for me. I’m excited for
every stage of life you enter, but am I really the mother of a one year old.
ONE. I’ve been counting your age in months, but next month I start over in
years. Wow my little Bird. Stay who you are, and I love who you are becoming.
You are my sunshine, laughter, and full heart. I love you my Bird.</span></div>
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Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6995897605087592588.post-57130694454338934632013-07-31T09:31:00.002-06:002013-07-31T09:31:39.267-06:00Family With a Side of Reunion<div class="MsoNormal">
I reckon most family reunions are this melodic weekend of
people singing Kumbaya around a camp fire, friendly games of four-square, and
strolling down Memory Lane sharing fond memories of the yonder years.<o:p></o:p></div>
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I said <i>most</i>. Not
mine.<o:p></o:p></div>
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There was somewhat of a resemblance though. Instead, we sang
Leonard Cohen and G-Love from the acoustic stylings of my cousin. Scrabble was
our game of choice, and it wasn’t very friendly…we’re a competitive bunch. And
our stroll down Memory Lane was more like a tromp down Painful Path,
reminiscing on boiling water incidents, 50 foot makeshift tree swings, and all
the bumps and bruises that coincide with a family of mostly boys. Everything went exactly like a Brooks’ family
reunion should go; razzing, taunting, and teasing…all in good fun I suppose. <o:p></o:p></div>
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It’s a whole different experience attending a family reunion
as an adult. You get the true inside scoop of being a Brooks’ and all of the
sudden you’re not sure if you’re more proud or more ashamed to be a part of the
family. Either way, I wouldn't trade it for the world. I loved watching my Pop
play with his brothers just as if they were teenagers (Roman candle wars
included). They cut each other down and build you right back up in the same
conversation. The diversity in my family
was pleasantly surprising, but what it all boils down to is that we’re a
family. The late night political/ethical debates are long forgotten before the
next morning’s cup of coffee. Because in the mountains, lifestyle doesn't
matter. Individual point of views were put aside and we all enjoyed the company
of being together. <o:p></o:p></div>
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Bear dove head first into being a full time uncle and Pop
was head honcho with his new role as Poppa. We took hikes, hunted for golf
balls in the river, went fly fishing, made candy apples, and ate some of the
best ribs my pop’s ever made. <o:p></o:p></div>
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Hillary came up to the Mountain House the last few days, and
as expected, made a better Brooks than I did. We left the mountains behind for the
concrete jungle of the big ATL. Atlanta is a surprisingly green city; trees and
parks on every corner. Andrea came up
for three days; it was like one big pre-teen slumber party. There is nothing
better than being reunited with your life-long best friends when you all live
2,000 miles apart. Our heart strings are strong and long, and proven to last a
lifetime. Ah, tears of missing those two
are starting to fall…muststopwriting. <o:p></o:p></div>
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Family reunions on all accounts were a huge success, but
nothing beats walking down the airport terminal, seeing my Momma waiting there
for her Bird and me. <o:p></o:p></div>
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The Wyoming Welcoming committee was wide-eyed and waiting
for the arrival of their Bird. Grandma and Grandpa have requested that we never
leave again, and Brent was more anxious than anyone for us to come home. Missed that hubby of mine. <o:p></o:p></div>
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Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6995897605087592588.post-39046039264557437792013-07-21T13:06:00.000-06:002013-07-21T13:06:12.038-06:00Confidence Is In The Eye Of The Beholder<div class="MsoNormal">
Aren’t girls funny? Aren’t we funny, especially with our
hair? I mean, our hair sets our total vibe of who we are, our style. What goes
better with your new chevron pattern dress than a hipster bun on the top of
your head? Or daisy duke shorts and long loose curls. Feeling frumpy? Pull it
up in a ponytail to complete your <i>I’m a
mom and I don’t give</i> a hoot look. I’ve always used my hair as a safety net.
Because, let’s be honest, I don’t have that rocking hot bod to center my style
around. So instead I use my hair. I always felt most confident with my long
locks. There’s just something about long red hair that gives me that confidence
boost when my extra 10 pounds and I are out in public. It was easy to be the “girl
with long red hair”. But now…I’m 25 with a husband, a baby, and….short hair. Where
oh where is my confidence going to come from? <o:p></o:p></div>
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Found it.<o:p></o:p></div>
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It comes from my husband. Long hair, short hair, un-showered,
sweat pants, or no makeup…I’m just as fabulous to him as those hot Victoria’s
Secret models that I know he checks out in the commercials. I no longer worry
about what the sexy man in the grocery store line thinks of me and my current
do. I now take into full consideration that the only man I want to attract prefers
short hair. And so it was done. <o:p></o:p></div>
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Love that man of mine. <o:p></o:p></div>
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Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6995897605087592588.post-14751745670902147342013-07-16T09:29:00.000-06:002013-07-16T09:29:47.654-06:00Month 10<div class="MsoNormal">
10
months means I can officially start planning your one year birthday party. Too
soon? Not that I’m in a hurry for you to grow up; I’m just looking for excuses to
buy you a party dress (and maybe one for me too…). But it doesn’t matter what month it is, it seems the whole world is infatuated with <i>the bird</i>. Maybe I’m exaggerating a tad,
but hey, I’m biased. People seem so
surprised to learn you are only ten months. I love seeing the smile on your
face as you put on a show for anyone willing to watch, and trust me, the crowds
just seem to gather. You’ve added a few
tricks to your repertoire, like stair climbing for example. Nana and Poppa’s
house has a lot of stairs and that’s all you want to do all day. You never bore
of it. You are
moments away from walking. It’s the scariest yet most exciting thing that’s
happening around here. You have the skill and technique, so all it will take is
the bravery to just let go of my finger that you’re barely holding on to
anyway. You will go forever just holding my hand and walking anywhere your feet
can take you. I love watching you master your body control. In church you
dropped your toy, climbed off the pew and ducked under to get it. You knew ever
step you needed to take to master your goal.
<o:p></o:p></div>
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<div class="MsoNormal">
Remember when I promised we wouldn't travel for long periods
of time without daddy ever again? Woops.
But we missed so much him the entire time we were gone. We went to North
Caroline for a Brooks’ family reunion for a week then we drove down to Atlanta
to visit your Aunties Hillary and Andrea. You flew on an airplane for the first
time. I stressed for weeks over flying with you. But as I expected, you were perfect; not a peep
of sadness the whole time. You made a
lot of friends along the way, especially the baby behind you. But that
relationship ended quickly…you were rather intense with the poor kid. <o:p></o:p></div>
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North Carolina was another first for you; you met all of
your aunts and uncles and most of your cousins for the first time. You had a blast being constantly entertained
by everyone. Then it was on to Atlanta
for some Auntie time…I’ll say it again Bird, those ladies love you. I can’t
wait for you to look back on picture of you with Andrea and Hillary and know
that they have been a part of your entire life. <o:p></o:p></div>
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<div class="MsoNormal">
Well, considering the fact that you’re out the back door and
half way off the porch, I better go supervise. I love you my little Bird. Ohsovery
much. <o:p></o:p></div>
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Noteworthy experiences:<br />
<br />
<ul>
<li>Massive blow out + no change of clothes = running around Home Depot naked</li>
<li>Everyone in swim class called you Mermaid </li>
<li>It took you ten minutes to figure out how to walk holding on to me</li>
<li>You are trying to learn how to clap</li>
<li>You love cold water, rain, and warm baths</li>
<li>Your hair is coming in...and it's blonde</li>
</ul>
<br />
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Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6995897605087592588.post-38593053359621580422013-06-14T09:00:00.000-06:002013-06-14T09:00:08.358-06:00Month 9<div class="MsoNormal">
You’re on the downhill slide of your first year. 9 months,
baby Bird. You’ve been outside just as long as you were inside. It’s been another month of amazement, but I guess
that’s what first time mommyhood is all about. It’s been a month full of baby
skirts and flip flops, play grounds and picnics, water play and bare bums. Every morning after daddy leaves for work, we
crawl out of bed still in our PJ’s and sit on the back porch soaking up the
morning sun. I drink my coffee and you occasionally sip on juice in between
chasing the boys and picking grass. It’s my new favorite time with you. <o:p></o:p></div>
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Your adventurous spirit is shining through more and more,
and even more so you’re becoming quite the adrenaline junkie. There is no bigger smile then when daddy
throws you in the air. Your independence only goes so far still, but if by
chance you crawl out of sight I know right where to find you- with the boys eating
dog food. Nonetheless, you follow
commands extremely well for not speaking the English language. Dare I compare you to a dog? You come when
you’re called, redirect when told “no”, and respond well to treats. We’re
working on sit and stay, but somehow I doubt you’ll master that. Zip is quite your mother hen, wherever you
go, he’s right behind you. I’m not sure if he’s keeping you out of trouble or
leading you to it; but you and those boys sure are bonded. <o:p></o:p></div>
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But some things never change….you
are reminding me of a funny story as I (try) to type. Right now you are prying and prodding at my
laptop. You’ve done this since you first laid eyes on it. You have a hardcore
obsession with the keyboard and you will not leave it alone. You’ve even gone
so far as to delete the entire keyboard system and change the desktop picture.
So two months ago, to encourage your sensory skills Auntie Andrea bought you a
toy laptop. And you hated it. You hated
the noise, the lights, but most of all you hated it open. If that thing is open
with in a 20 foot radius, you’ll stop all current activities to shut that
danged thing. I just wanted you to have your own, but apparently you like to
push mommy’s buttons instead. <span style="font-family: Wingdings; mso-ascii-font-family: Calibri; mso-ascii-theme-font: minor-latin; mso-char-type: symbol; mso-hansi-font-family: Calibri; mso-hansi-theme-font: minor-latin; mso-symbol-font-family: Wingdings;">J</span><o:p></o:p></div>
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Tractor rides with Grandpa, tennis
with Nana, chicken coops with the great’s, and late night phone calls with the
Aunties…you’re in high demand, Bird. You are so close to walking. I can see the
desire in your eyes every time you stand up. Just one step; that’s all it will
take and you’ll be off. I love watching you problem solve. You are so smart and
continually way ahead of the curve. It seems baby toys, food, etc. are a thing of
the past. You want what the bigs have…especially our food. Since day one you slept right with us in bed,
and everyone said the transition to your crib would be hard. But just like
everything else, it was easy. I wasn’t emotionally ready to let you sleep
alone, but then as if a switch turned on, you and I were both ready for this
transition. You took so easy to it. We
started putting you to bed in there at 9, and then when you woke up around 2am
we would bring you back into sleep with us. And then, all of the sudden, you
stopped waking up. You just kept sleeping right on through until 7:30. But that
doesn’t mean I don’t sneak in your room in the wee hours of the night to check
on you. I miss you at night; I miss watching you sleep so soundly, I miss the intermittent
snoring between you and daddy, I even miss waking up to you climbing over my
head to get to the boys. But as independent as you may be, know that I’m always
close by. <o:p></o:p></div>
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I’m in awe every time I rock you
to sleep. Remembering when your entire body fit across my chest, and now it
seems there are miles of legs dangling at my side. Everything about you is growing, from your
size, to your smarts, to your smile….everything except your hair. No matter how
big you are, I’ll always make room for you in my arms for you’ll always be my
baby. I love you Bird.<o:p></o:p></div>
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Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6995897605087592588.post-66453777812172675682013-06-13T16:37:00.003-06:002013-06-13T16:37:21.147-06:00The Stuff You Thought You Didn't Need To Know<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="color: #444444;">For my sanity and your entertainment value, here’s a
non-gushy sentimental update on Bird’s every moment. Instead, this will entail
very random notsoimportant facts about everything else.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<ul>
<li><span style="color: #444444;">We finally have a backyard. With grass, might I add.</span></li>
<li><span style="color: #444444;">And a porch. Can you guess where we spend 95% of our time?</span></li>
<li><span style="color: #444444;">Brent has been promoted to a Safety Specialist. His computer
desk sitting, research doing, supervisor position, not outside manual labor office
dream job has finally come true. He’s in
7<sup>th</sup> heaven. The perks come with a major raise, company truck, and is
home by 5:00 every evening…clean.</span></li>
<li><span style="color: #444444;">It’s summer. The boys are shedding and my house is covered
in dog hair.</span></li>
<li><span style="color: #444444;">It’s also covered in slobber…Bird is working on her 9<sup>th</sup>
tooth.</span></li>
<li><span style="color: #444444;">This Wyoming soil is seriously testing the limits of my
green thumb. It’s more or less a brownish color…ya know, to match my dying
plants.</span></li>
<li><span style="color: #444444;">We are bike riding fools…like every night. It usually
entails a trip to the canal for the boys and speed racing down the big hill for
Bird.</span></li>
<li><span style="color: #444444;">It doesn’t even get dark until 10:00pm, which makes me feel
like even more of a loser for going to bed at 9, so I force myself to stay up
later. I think I’m getting better at living the night life. I even caught half
an episode of Letterman once. </span></li>
<li><span style="color: #444444;">I’m really frustrated with typing on an actual computer
keyboard because I expect it to autocorrect everything for me like my Iphone.
Alas, it does not.</span></li>
<li><span style="color: #444444;">I’m back full force working on the Ambulance. Bridger
Valley, feel free to hurt yourself in any way possible. I would like some good
calls please. (Too harsh?)</span></li>
<li><span style="color: #444444;">Brent <s>and I</s> have started the Paelo diet. He’s lost
like a million pounds in a week and I don’t even bother stepping on the scale.
Probably because I’m the worst dieter ever.</span></li>
<li><span style="color: #444444;">I feel like it’s probably safe to officially say I’ve
stopped biting my nails. After 24 years of being a relentless nail biter I finally
told myself that MILF’s don’t bite their nails…not that I consider myself a
MILF but it was a nice thought. I’ve been 6 months in recovery and haven’t relapsed
once. I paint my nails every other day. I had no idea what I was missing out
on.</span></li>
<li><span style="color: #444444;">Because of our obsession with our new porch, Brent BBQ’s
every night for dinner. Thank you Pinterest and you’re great recipe section.</span></li>
<li><span style="color: #444444;">Lilly is a pro at swimming lessons. She loves it all.</span></li>
<li><span style="color: #444444;">My sister in-law Ashely has decided to NOT move home for the
summer and I couldn’t be more disappointed in her bad <b>bad</b> choice. Family means sacrifice, and if she’s not willing to
sacrifice her entire social life for me then boo on her. (I kid Sholly…)</span></li>
<li><span style="color: #444444;">And on that note, in July I’m going to a family reunion in
NC and then to Atlanta to visit Hillary…if I didn’t hate the excessive use of exclamation
points so much you would see about a million of them here. But here’s a small
taste of my excitement: !!!!!!!!........!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!.</span></li>
</ul>
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Unknownnoreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6995897605087592588.post-60403811516247664362013-05-15T12:33:00.000-06:002013-05-15T12:33:04.871-06:00Month 8<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="color: #444444;">As expected, you’ve changed. When does this stop? When will I
wake up in the morning and you’ll be the same baby as the day before? Will I even
recognize you tomorrow? Whatever you do, wherever you go, I’ll always know you
by your spirit. As much as I wish babies
came equipped with a pause button (maybe even a fast forward button at times),
I find myself so submerged in each stage you enter. I can’t get enough of your intuitiveness and
perceptions of the world around you. Summer is a whole new world for you. You’ve
learned this world is far more than four walls and a ceiling. Your mind is limitless and you are so
captivated by the new outdoor surroundings.
I feel like I’m depriving you of valuable experiences if we stay inside
too long. We are starting a whole new
chapter, dare I say a new book, and watching your eyes light up with every fresh
experience delights my heart more than I can say. Here’s your month Bird, it was immeasurable, unsurpassed,
but mostly unbelievable.</span></div>
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<ul>
<li><span style="color: #444444;"><span style="font-family: Symbol; text-indent: -0.25in;"><span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman'; font-size: 7pt;"> </span></span>You had some serious diaper rash, which is where I learned
the power of butt-paste and Aquaphor.</span></li>
<li><span style="color: #444444;">Aquaphor also doubles as some extraordinary lip gloss. Don’t
judge, just try it.</span></li>
<li><span style="color: #444444;">Morning routine: wake up, pull moms hair, climb over mom,
yell for dogs, encourage dogs to jump on bed, play with dogs on bed, <s>eat</s>
smear breakfast, share breakfast with dogs, play with dogs on floor, nap…sometimes
with the dogs. Repeat.</span></li>
<li><span style="color: #444444;">Two things in this world get you so excited that your arms and
legs flail uncontrollably; Daddy coming home and hearing Nana’s voice on the
phone. You. Go. Crazy.</span></li>
<li><span style="color: #444444;">You’ve discovered the laundry room, and in the laundry room
is the boys’ food and water. And the doggie door.</span></li>
<li><span style="color: #444444;">You discovered the doggie door. …and the dog water… and the
dog food. Which you ate.</span></li>
<li><span style="color: #444444;">You pooped out your first inedible object. Part of a fake flowers.</span></li>
<li><span style="color: #444444;">We went swimming in the hot-tub. You were butt-naked. I
dunked you and you giggled. Nana didn’t like the dunking, so I signed her up
for swimming lessons with you.</span></li>
<li><span style="color: #444444;">Oh ya, you start swimming lessons next month. I also bought you a bathing suit. Now you
have three. You’re seven months old and you have three bathing suits. I have a
problem.</span></li>
<li><span style="color: #444444;">The first time I put sunscreen on you, Daddy said you
smelled like “Lagoon”.</span></li>
<li><span style="color: #444444;">You’re a biker babe. We go on a bike ride most every day.
You have a baby seat, a helmet, and a smile. The boys are jealous of your seat,
but you just giggle at them as they run next to you.</span></li>
<li><span style="color: #444444;">I melt every time I watch your Daddy rock you to sleep.</span></li>
<li><span style="color: #444444;">Grandma and Grandpa tell you every day how adorable you are.</span></li>
<li><span style="color: #444444;">Next month will be an adventure…you’re about to walk.</span></li>
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Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6995897605087592588.post-36892014954778418592013-05-15T12:11:00.002-06:002013-05-15T12:11:25.332-06:00Unbelievable <div class="MsoNormal">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhG9VwCMWyLrJeNKIglwAKD6-37lR_hqkKk-tlSPGGTraFX5FdK_3NitW5A2GqyZ3-Sa1dTZ-QHpyYknKRgzUc4bVXTIW19CjgA6Fza4aQ1m5AG1hTSoMFUbSk_fWdj1TB1LUsxiDosYco/s1600/IMG_3873.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhG9VwCMWyLrJeNKIglwAKD6-37lR_hqkKk-tlSPGGTraFX5FdK_3NitW5A2GqyZ3-Sa1dTZ-QHpyYknKRgzUc4bVXTIW19CjgA6Fza4aQ1m5AG1hTSoMFUbSk_fWdj1TB1LUsxiDosYco/s320/IMG_3873.JPG" width="320" /></a><span style="color: #444444;">My mother has always told me that I wouldn’t be able to
understand her love for me until I had a child of my own. Impossible, I would
say, knowing that my love and adoration for her was equal. Having seven months
of motherhood tucked under my belt, I realize now how deep a mother’s love
truly runs. In the days after Lilly’s birth, my Mom and I would spend evenings
just staring at her, spellbound by love and with words so far out of
reach. I’ve spend my entire life
watching my mom; studying her, learning from her mistakes, and capturing her
strong will. At times I’ve resisted so much of her determination and dedication
to motherhood; pushing when I should have been pulling and falling only when
she tried to help me climb. But here I am…with a daughter of my own, who is
bound to test her own limits and fly without wings. I am so grateful for the footsteps I have to
lead my way. Ask me what it means to be
a mom and I’ll tell you it is an unbelievable experience; so unbelievable that there aren’t
any words to describe its beauty, fulfillment, or joy. Ask me what it means to
be the daughter of my mom and I’ll tell you the same.
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<span style="color: #444444;">My very first Mother’s Day wasn’t short of perfection. Bird spent all morning in the kitchen cooking
breakfast in bed for me, and in the days before she picked out the most
beautiful gift at my favorite boutique. She even cleaned the house while the
{fur}boys put away laundry and Brent did the dishes. And then, all together
they took me on a picnic to our favorite park with lunch from my favorite
restaurant. And to finish out the day, Bird promised to entertain daddy while I
planted in the garden and wrote a blog or two. As for the boys; they chose to
help dig in the garden. Happy day for
this Momma. </span><o:p></o:p></div>
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Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6995897605087592588.post-31027303044222368302013-05-15T11:46:00.003-06:002013-05-15T11:46:58.319-06:00The Boys Are Back In Town<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="color: #444444;">Remember when this entire blog revolved around two little
fur boys and their adventures? And then it seemed to suddenly shift focus
elsewhere. But it’s not what you’re
thinking. They didn't get booted because
the Bird took center stage, we didn't love them any less since her arrival, and
they certainly haven’t stopped being the center of attention. Their absence can be attributed to good
behavior. No drowning pugs, no runaway
heelers, and no more midnight barking jam sessions. But fear not; the boys are
about to make their big comeback. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="color: #444444;">We moved to the country for one main reason; the abolishment
of all laws doggy. Unfortunately, that isn't the case and somehow our boys seemed
to find their way straight into trouble. But you know how the saying goes;
every dog has his day in court, except the names appearing on the court dockets
we’re that of yours truly. Zip and Tank
found their way into the neighbor’s chicken coop and ruffled a few feathers. No
chickens were hurt in the midst of their gallivanting but it was just enough to
send out the big guns and summon us to appear in front of a Judge for the crime
of the century. Yadda, yadda, yadda, we
ended up not having to appear and instead were told to provide proof that we
built a fence, which was well in the plans anyway. It took a phone call to pop
and one expensive trip to Home Depot and voilà, we now have a back yard. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="color: #444444;">Let me paint you a picture of my property. A house, a porch, a driveway, various types
of fences, and rocks. Lots of rocks. No
grass, no trees, no flowers, not a shrub insight. That was so last week. My charming little house got a makeover last September
and now it’s on to landscaping. Aside
from the creation of a backyard, we've tilled up all the land and are planting
grass, building a back deck, enlarging the front porch, adding landscaping, oh
and this weekend we created and planted an entire garden. I live in God’s country and it’s about time
our little piece started looking like it. I LOVE where we live, the home we've created, and the people I get to share my life with. So grateful for a hardworking and loving
husband, a chirping little bird, a willing and giving mom and pop and the best
neighbors/in-laws a girl could ask for. Oh, and some boys who are now forever
forced to walk the line. Sorry guys, but I’m going to say it…I have a damn
perfect life. </span><o:p></o:p></div>
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Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6995897605087592588.post-17722827116655463392013-04-15T20:20:00.001-06:002013-04-15T20:20:20.071-06:00Month 7<br />
<div class="MsoNormal"><span style="color: #444444;">As I wrote the very last word on your 6 month adventures, you spun a 360 and everything about you changed. Your personality amplified a hundred times and your smile, now accompanied by four teeth, shined even brighter. <o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="color: #444444;"><br />
</span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="color: #444444;">I am happy to report that that car seat of yours isn’t as treacherous as before. You seem to understand that you won’t be strapped down forever and wherever we’re going, it’s usually fun…like to Nana and Poppa’s house or Benedicts; both of which are of high entertainment value in your book. I guess after a road trip to California, you’ve adapted to that ol’ chair pretty well. <o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="color: #444444;"><br />
</span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="color: #444444;">As pre-mentioned, you and I have become quite the traveling pair and sadly a lot of it has been done without daddy. He started a whole new job and in the working world it’s not all play. But he does it all for you, Bird. So know that even if every picture doesn’t have daddy creeping in the background or if the stories are told without details of daddy, he’s there. He knows every detail and he is a part of every memory you will make. I know how lucky I am to have him has my husband, but girl, you are off the charts blessed to have him as your daddy. He leaves <s>bright</s> dark and early every morning, and no matter how deep asleep you are you inevitably wakeup within 20 minutes of him leaving. You can sense that he’s not right next to you and therefore can’t sleep. Let’s work on the 6am wake up time, ok? But days he doesn’t have to wake up early, you will sleep, cuddled up right next to him, until you’re weird synchronized internal clocks go off. Mommy loves those days. <o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="color: #444444;"><br />
</span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="color: #444444;">Sleeping has always been a waste of time. <i>Apparently</i>. And there is no rhyme or reason to your patterns. It’s either five minute <s>cat</s> bird naps that must be taken in my arms, or you are out for the count sprawled in your crib. And as soon as the snooze is over your little legs start going. Crawling is overrated, it’s obvious you’d rather be walking and ohhhh how you try. But congrats little girl, you no longer resembled a beached walrus. You can most successfully chase me around the house at hyper speed on your hands and knees. Once I’m caught you start climbing my leg…or the dog, or anything within reach. You can pull yourself up on anything. ANYTHING.<o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="color: #444444;"><br />
</span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="color: #444444;">You’ll grow up surrounded by a family that loves you to the stars and back, and none more than two of your aunties, Andre and Hillary. And just as I did, you’ll grow up being influenced by them more than you’ll begin to appreciate. One of them will take you on adventures beyond your wildest dreams and the other will make you famous. But both of them will love you more than you’ll know. Trust these girls. Listen to them, take their advice, and when you can’t handle me, run to them. Because of them you’ll become the most well rounded and cultured young lady. Take Hillary’s strong will and steady feet and Andrea’s carefree life and positive outlook, mix it with their spirit of adventure and you’ll have the world in your hands. I’ve had the two of them my entire life and I’m so grateful I get to share them with you. You don’t know how lucky you are bird. Consider yourself blessed.<o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="color: #444444;"><br />
</span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="color: #444444;">Things will definitely slow down this next month; maybe not for your growing soul, but at least for our traveling adventures. The Idaho squad is coming down this week, and I can only imagine the level of excitement when you’re reunited with your aunt Sholly. Your grandpa got you baby chicks and we all giggle at the thought of you collecting the eggs and chasing the chickens. And rumor has it, he’s been looking at ponies for you. <o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="color: #444444;">I’m excited for summer; for you to feel the grass on your toes, the sunshine on your shoulders (which will be completely covered with layers of sunscreen), and the exploitation of the outdoors. Spring is here, and you can soon stretch your wings Bird. </span><br />
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Unknownnoreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6995897605087592588.post-11522211486206614422013-04-15T20:16:00.001-06:002013-04-15T20:16:50.424-06:00<br />
<div class="MsoNormal"><span style="color: #444444;">As I wrote the very last word on your 6 month adventures, you spun a 360 and everything about you changed. Your personality amplified a hundred times and your smile, now accompanied by four teeth, shined even brighter. <o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="color: #444444;"><br />
</span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="color: #444444;">I am happy to report that that car seat of yours isn’t as treacherous as before. You seem to understand that you won’t be strapped down forever and wherever we’re going, it’s usually fun…like to Nana and Poppa’s house or Benedicts; both of which are of high entertainment value in your book. I guess after a road trip to California, you’ve adapted to that ol’ chair pretty well. <o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="color: #444444;"><br />
</span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="color: #444444;">As pre-mentioned, you and I have become quite the traveling pair and sadly a lot of it has been done without daddy. He started a whole new job and in the working world it’s not all play. But he does it all for you, Bird. So know that even if every picture doesn’t have daddy creeping in the background or if the stories are told without details of daddy, he’s there. He knows every detail and he is a part of every memory you will make. I know how lucky I am to have him has my husband, but girl, you are off the charts blessed to have him as your daddy. He leaves <s>bright</s> dark and early every morning, and no matter how deep asleep you are you inevitably wakeup within 20 minutes of him leaving. You can sense that he’s not right next to you and therefore can’t sleep. Let’s work on the 6am wake up time, ok? But days he doesn’t have to wake up early, you will sleep, cuddled up right next to him, until you’re weird synchronized internal clocks go off. Mommy loves those days. <o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="color: #444444;"><br />
</span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="color: #444444;">Sleeping has always been a waste of time. <i>Apparently</i>. And there is no rhyme or reason to your patterns. It’s either five minute <s>cat</s> bird naps that must be taken in my arms, or you are out for the count sprawled in your crib. And as soon as the snooze is over your little legs start going. Crawling is overrated, it’s obvious you’d rather be walking and ohhhh how you try. But congrats little girl, you no longer resembled a beached walrus. You can most successfully chase me around the house at hyper speed on your hands and knees. Once I’m caught you start climbing my leg…or the dog, or anything within reach. You can pull yourself up on anything. ANYTHING.<o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="color: #444444;"><br />
</span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="color: #444444;">You’ll grow up surrounded by a family that loves you to the stars and back, and none more than two of your aunties, Andre and Hillary. And just as I did, you’ll grow up being influenced by them more than you’ll begin to appreciate. One of them will take you on adventures beyond your wildest dreams and the other will make you famous. But both of them will love you more than you’ll know. Trust these girls. Listen to them, take their advice, and when you can’t handle me, run to them. Because of them you’ll become the most well rounded and cultured young lady. Take Hillary’s strong will and steady feet and Andrea’s carefree life and positive outlook, mix it with their spirit of adventure and you’ll have the world in your hands. I’ve had the two of them my entire life and I’m so grateful I get to share them with you. You don’t know how lucky you are bird. Consider yourself blessed.<o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="color: #444444;"><br />
</span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="color: #444444;">Things will definitely slow down this next month; maybe not for your growing soul, but at least for our traveling adventures. The Idaho squad is coming down this week, and I can only imagine the level of excitement when you’re reunited with your aunt Sholly. Your grandpa got you baby chicks and we all giggle at the thought of you collecting the eggs and chasing the chickens. And rumor has it, he’s been looking at ponies for you. <o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="color: #444444;">I’m excited for summer; for you to feel the grass on your toes, the sunshine on your shoulders (which will be completely covered with layers of sunscreen), and the exploitation of the outdoors. Spring is here, and you can soon stretch your wings Bird. </span></div><br />
Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6995897605087592588.post-61570553609836184572013-03-26T16:00:00.002-06:002013-03-26T16:00:49.957-06:00California dreamin'<div class="MsoNormal">
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<span style="font-family: Calibri;"><span style="color: #444444;">If I don’t blog ever again, it’s probably because I ran away
to the mountains at Lake Tahoe.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>We
stopped there for a night on our drive to San Francisco. Apparently 10 hours
stuck in a car seat was long enough for little bird. <o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Calibri;"><span style="color: #444444;">Mom rant: I HATE car seats.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Strike me down dead for saying this, but
seriously.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I’m well aware of the risk
factor and will spend my entire life ensuring the safety of my littles, but I’ve
got to devise some sort indestructible bubble suit for infant travel. When
she’s content, she’s happy as, well, a bird. But go a mile further than she
wants, and you’ll hear it until she’s freed.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>I’ll admit it, I’m totally tempted to take her out and let her just be.
But I don’t, and I won’t. <o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
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<o:p><span style="color: #444444; font-family: Calibri;"> </span></o:p></div>
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<span style="font-family: Calibri;"><span style="color: #444444;">Travel day two was much shorter.
I’m not sure if my geography teacher skipped over this part or I’m just a total
ditz, but having never been to California before I was not expecting so many
mountains. And it’s not just one big beach party with beer, babes, and
sunshine. Apparently that happens a little further down south. Granted it’s
only March, it’s a tad chilly nonetheless. <o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Calibri;"><span style="color: #444444;"><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>San Francisco doesn’t go without its own highly
sought after attractions though. So far we’ve seen the Golden Gate Bridge,
Fisherman’s Wharf, and a homeless man with projectile diarrhea on the side of
the road; all of which were a first for me.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span><o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Calibri;"><span style="color: #444444;">San Francisco is no Lyman,
Wyoming folks. It’s building to building chaos. But if you ignore the GPS
enough times, you eventually find yourself amongst some of the prettiest
scenery around.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I’m amazed at the
diversity here, amongst the people, homes, and scenery. Within 3 square blocks
there are slums, million dollar mansions, and then somewhere in the mix you’ll
find Haight-Ashbury, which is an experience all on its own.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>But right outside the concrete jungle you’ll
get to Pacifica, where we are camping right on the cliffs of the shoreline and
get to watch a nightly sunset that stretches for miles.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span><o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Calibri;"><span style="color: #444444;">Mom’s appointments are going
well. Everything is as to be expected. The medical team is top notch; her
surgeon was the one who developed the main aspect for this newest theory of
treatment. Ocular melanomas are rare; only 2000 diagnosis each year, and a
majority of them; we all feel so lucky that she was a candidate for proton
radiation and that she is in with the best of the best. We’ll be here for a few
more days for surgery recovery and more appointments. Thank you everyone for
your thoughts and prayers.</span> <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span><o:p></o:p></span></div>
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Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6995897605087592588.post-23816328899838425802013-03-26T15:51:00.001-06:002013-05-15T11:47:49.719-06:00Out of the Closet<br />
<span style="color: #444444;"></span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Calibri;"><span style="color: #444444;">Maybe it can go without saying and maybe others need an explanation, but here it is; I support Gay rights. I am God fearing, bible reading, cross wearing Christian, and I support the right of equality for all.<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<span style="color: #444444;"></span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Calibri;"><span style="color: #444444;">Gay, lesbian, straight, bisexual, whatever…I support your earthly right to follow your heart. <o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<span style="color: #444444;"></span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Calibri;"><span style="color: #444444;">Say whaaat?? Conservative Christian Elizabeth is going against the Bible and advocating one of the biggest sins out there? Surely, she must not be a true Christian. Maybe the husband baby thing is a cover up for her own gayness? The Bible clearly states homosexuality is a big no-no. Or does it?<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Calibri;"><span style="color: #444444;">Well folks, sorry to stop your gossip train, but I am indeed a full-fledged straighty.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Though I do enjoy rainbows…<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<span style="color: #444444;"></span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Calibri;"><span style="color: #444444;">I’m not here to eradicate your core beliefs and demand you have a change of heart. Along those same lines, I’m not here to debate this with the thumpin’ of your scriptures to counteract mine. Because, let’s face it, the fight for gay rights goes so far beyond any of our opinions. But isn’t that why we’re having this debate in the first place? Because everyone has varied opinions? Well, maybe I have something to say that might sooth your judging soul. <o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<span style="color: #444444;"></span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Calibri;"><span style="color: #444444;">This is the part where I could summarize a wonderful article written by (a way more knowledgeable) Christian in my same boat, but instead I’m going to link you over</span><span style="color: #990000;"> </span><a href="http://www.gaychristian.net/justins_view.php" target="_blank"><span style="color: #990000;">HERE</span></a><span style="color: #444444;">, and hope you read it for yourself.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>And by read, I mean read the whole dang thing folks. It’s long, so you might need to push pause on your rerun of The OC, but it will at least give you some insight.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span><o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<span style="color: #444444;"></span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Calibri;"><span style="color: #444444;">I don’t feel as strongly as the author does, because I haven’t experienced the same tribulations of my friends deeply involved in the Gay community. But what I do feel in my heart is that that God loves us all, regardless of circumstance. Amen? Amen. <o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<span style="color: #444444;"></span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Calibri;"><span style="color: #444444;">I will say I especially enjoyed Argument #4- Because God Says So. That’s been the foundation of every Christian’s argument.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I’ve spent my fair share of time in prayer to ask for guidance on how to view homosexuality. <o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<span style="color: #444444;"></span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Calibri;"><span style="color: #444444;">I woke up this morning to facebook covered in red equality signs, and I had zero intentions of changing my picture.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Are we going to overturn Prop 8 through changing your profile icon? Nope. But did you know I supported equality before today? Probably not. And I was pleasantly surprised at the number of my friends who publically support it as well. What are we doing then? Why change your picture? Why write a blog? Because one voice, one picture, one word at a time we’re demolishing the taboo of supporting Gay rights.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>And eventually, the world will be one red equal sign. Maybe it won’t happen this time, or the next but in the famous words of some teeny-bopper who got at least one thing right, <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">never say never</i>.<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Calibri;"><span style="color: #444444;">So whatever it is your stance is, get educated. It’s not our place to judge; that job is reserved for the Big Man. I’ll admit, I was indeed a closet gay rights activist. Well folks, here’s to coming out of the closet. Let’s all live in love.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span></span></span></div>
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Unknownnoreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6995897605087592588.post-45438005382499984742013-03-18T17:13:00.003-06:002013-03-18T17:13:56.123-06:00Month Six<span style="color: #444444;"><br /></span>
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<span style="color: #444444;">Hold your horses, kiddo. You’re 6 months; not 16 years…so stop acting like it. This has been a crazy month for you. You’ve experienced so many new things, it’s as if you’re skipping this baby thing and heading straight for adolescence- a force to be reckoned with. </span></div>
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<span style="color: #444444;">You have a serious love-hate relationship with your car seat. Let’s be honest, it’s an altogether hate, and in fact the only love thing about it is the new places you go once you’re freed- oh, how you love new places. Babies are a pretty hot commodity, but you my friend, are in the limelight. Everyone is attracted to you. I don’t know if it’s that bald head or huge grin that draws people in, but once they are there, they are captivated for good. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="color: #444444;">Not much has changed on the home front. You spend your days perusing the living room floor, exploring the hallways in your walker, and your nights cuddled up right in between mom and dad. I wouldn’t say you’ve successfully mastered crawling because you more resemble a walrus on land that a mobile baby but you are so close to victory. Another big first is that you sit in high chairs at restaurants. The only reason this didn’t happen months ago wasn’t the lack of skill on your part, but more or less my severe co-dependency constantly getting in the way of your independency. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="color: #444444;">You’ve spent the majority of your time voicing your opinion; it seems you have one on just about everything. I’ve learned the difference in all your tones. They aren’t words yet, but you’re speaking full sentences just the same. Cars, doctor offices, crowded restaurants are all the same to you- a place to turn on your charm and captivate your audiences. You’re quite the loud lady, and no matter how hard I try, manners just don’t apply to you. Sometimes, I’m <i>that </i>mom with <i>that </i>baby but it’s always in a good way. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="color: #444444;">You’ve traveled way more than you wanted to this month but you’ve experienced so many first, it has been so well worth it (for me and my picture taking obsession). This has been the most maturing month, so many first, so much personality, and a lot of family time. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="color: #444444;">You’re the light of my life, and have been since the moment of your existence. We’ve been traveling a lot without your daddy, and he misses you so much, but the smiles and giggles that emerge from your reunion makes my heart melt more than anything. You're turning in to such a little lady. <span style="font-size: large;">We love you Bird. <o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
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<br />Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6995897605087592588.post-70427007973069060592013-03-17T23:03:00.000-06:002013-03-17T23:03:29.952-06:00Cancer. <div class="MsoNormal">
It’s dark out. And cold. Everything is packed and ready; it
has been for days. The only thing left
to do is pile in the car and start driving. <o:p></o:p></div>
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<i>Rewind</i>: The last two months have been a whirl wind of doctor
visits and a long hand of the waiting game.
It’s not a very fun game to play and I don’t recommend it. But
sometimes, it’s the only thing left to do.
I had the smallest glimpse down a road I know I definitely don’t want to
travel. The “C” word…you know,
<i>cancer</i>. <o:p></o:p></div>
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What was once thought to be a small freckle in my mom’s left
eye turned out to be a cancerous tumor.
An ocular melanoma caused from a life time of being a gorgeous fair
skinned redhead. Treatment for eye
tumors used to be removal of the eye entirely. But thanks to modern medicine,
proton radiation acceleration is now the treatment of choice. I still think my
mom could have rocked a bedazzled eye patch. I feel like I've become an overnight expert on
all things ocular cancer, which had its pros and cons…sometimes ignorance truly
is bliss and other times knowledge is power.
Long story short(er-ish), melanomas have a nasty habit of spreading to
the liver and/or brain, and without divulging my mom’s entire medical history,
those are two locations we’d rather it not travel. After referral of a referral of a referral to
specialist doctors, my mom has a clean bill of health (aside from the initial cancerous
tumor in the eye). <o:p></o:p></div>
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<i>Fast-forward</i>: Proton radiation acceleration is a relatively
new science when it comes to tumor treatment.
Because it’s just making its appearance on the scene, there are only
nine centers in the world that offer this treatment, San Francisco being one of
them. My mom and pop have been getting
ready to head to the world’s leading proton radiation center, and Bird and I
were invited to tag along for the trip (Brent flies into San Fran on Thursday
night for the weekend). <o:p></o:p></div>
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The past week has been especially hard, for me anyways. I can’t even begin to imagine my mom’s
feelings. I’ve never met a strong person
than her. Every step of the way, she’s
been positive. Not just positive that she’ll be cancer free, or healed, or even for
life to return to normal, but positive in the sense that no matter what
happens, no matter what the outcome is, everything will be fine. We will remain happy regardless of the
diagnosis. I can’t fathom the words for
my feelings had the results been anything but positive. In the end, she will loose her eyesight, which I consider a win when life all together was an option. But I know one thing is for sure; my mom
would have remained strong…and then we could be strong with her. </div>
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I’ve never prayed so hard, so fervently,
so…selfishly, as if making sure God knew that I just wasn’t ready for a life
without my moms. He knew. <o:p></o:p></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg93xKAXU1obgC39h_zlDxV_yXq_TVtxpa0bKw-Dx6MZfiUQU9csm2sOK1Boogf7YXHphfwfSzDCVzy6zbhyLDNF9UYSILTq0u7t8aWINPj76pH8ops8Tc3VCMAx4-k8hLAFEgx9SSHa6o/s1600/momliz.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg93xKAXU1obgC39h_zlDxV_yXq_TVtxpa0bKw-Dx6MZfiUQU9csm2sOK1Boogf7YXHphfwfSzDCVzy6zbhyLDNF9UYSILTq0u7t8aWINPj76pH8ops8Tc3VCMAx4-k8hLAFEgx9SSHa6o/s400/momliz.jpg" width="282" /></a><i>Pause</i>: I-80 is one heck of a long road. Lilly is asleep in the back seat, while her
Nana strokes her forehead and studies the paper road map. Pop is driving, cautious of passing trucks
and enough “driving room”. And all this
time gives me the a ridiculous amount of time to think, which inevitably ends
up with typing, which then twists itself into a blog of some sort. Earlier this morning from the back seat, I
watched my mom diligently feed my pop a piece of breakfast bread. Sweet words exchanged as they were both
grateful he didn’t have to take his hands off of the wheel. High school sweethearts still so dedicated to
caring for one another. My mom has
repeatedly said how much she appreciates everything pop has done throughout this ordeal, and from
my pop; a small grunt in reply. And for those of you who know my pop, a grunt
is worth a thousand words…and this time it was a thousand words of gratefulness
that his love will be okay. To watch
that small exchange of bread meant the world to me. I can’t wait to watch a
thousand more. <o:p></o:p></div>
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So, here we come California, to add one more success story
to the trial we call cancer. <o:p></o:p></div>
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Unknownnoreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6995897605087592588.post-74803405358946845702013-02-25T16:04:00.000-07:002013-02-25T16:04:23.445-07:00Alone In My Thoughts...Nope, Not Even There.<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="color: #444444;">You never realize how much you miss the mundane
dinner-and-a-movie date until you haven’t experienced one in a while. It’s been exactly five months and eleven days
since Brent and I have had any sort of “date” night. I believe our last outing <i>alone</i> was the night before the arrival of
the Bird and if I’m not mistaken we went out for ice cream. I haven’t mourned the loss of our alone time,
spontaneous adventures, or extravagant date nights in any form, but (here’s
that <i>but </i>again) last night we put on
our fancy shoes and snuck out to Lyman’s one room movie house to watch the premier
of “Lincoln” (which, yes, I am aware was released months ago…so we’re a little
behind). Not only did we enjoy two and a half hours of an uninterrupted refresher
course of my high school history class, but we even splurged on a pizza from
our local ice cream and pizzeria shop (yup, same location as the pre-mentioned
date night). It was nice to have the door held for me not because I’m carrying
a baby, but just because he’s a gentleman and I’m a lady. <o:p></o:p></span><br />
<span style="color: #444444;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="color: #444444;">I’m not sure when it happened but all of the sudden the term
“alone” seems like it became a curse word. Come to think of it, it probably
started around September 14<sup>th</sup>. In our world, being alone meant not
having Lilly within three inches. We are <i>those
parents</i> who like to have their baby with them at all times. From the moment
she was born, putting her down in the rocker seemed like she was wasting
away. Showering alone was forbidden. And
heaven help us if we tried to make her sleep in her crib…alone. I can’t even write this blog alone. I’ve
gotten up three times since I wrote the first sentence. Date nights consisted of pizza (no, I don’t
weigh 300lbs…yet) and all five of us cuddled up on the couch, catching an
episode of Cops (or Pretty Little Liars if it was my night to choose). I always
joke and say I never have an empty lap. If it’s not Lilly, it’s the cat
Frankie, and just when I think I can stretch out on my own, Tank seizes his
opportunity for his <i>alone</i> time with mom.
<o:p></o:p></span><br />
<span style="color: #444444;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="color: #444444;">And ya know what, I’m in love with every fully occupied minute
of my life. Completely and utterly in
love. I wrote my last blog about my
heart feeling so full that Brent’s must be lacking. “I don’t feel like I’m on
the back burner,” he said “this is my family, this is how it’s supposed to be
and I couldn’t be happier with our life.” Uh….dad of a lifetime award right
here, folks. <o:p></o:p></span><br />
<span style="color: #444444;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="color: #444444;">We’ve had plenty of opportunities for a date night and
plenty of offers for babysitters, but there is something about spending my Friday
nights watching bird practice her newfound crawling skills babbling in
excitement as she scoots closer and closer to an unsuspecting Zip. Or how as I write
this I’m listening to the spatters of slobber drool out as bird tries to mimic
her dad’s silly faces and the nonsense noises going back and forth as they imitate
each other. With entertainment like this, who would want to be alone?<o:p></o:p></span><br />
<span style="color: #444444;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="color: #444444;">So the point of this blog? Maybe I’m trying to convince
myself I really do indeed miss unaccompanied trips to the bathroom or sleeping
in a position of my own choosing. Doubtful though. I think I’m subconsciously preaching to
myself that being a young mom (of my own choosing) isn’t as radical as I once thought
it was. Married and a baby by 24?
Irrational and naive would have been the choice of words of my 18 year old self.
But here I am, married and a baby by 24.
I’ve never made a more prepared and thought-out decision in my life.<o:p></o:p></span><br />
<span style="color: #444444;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="color: #444444;">If I were <i>alone </i>I’d
have clean floors, furless couches, and all the time in the world for crafting.
If I were <i>alone</i> I wouldn’t be typing
the blog with one hand and holding my baby with the other. If I were <i>alone</i> I wouldn’t have to start cooking
Sunday dinner for my family. And lastly, if I were <i>alone</i> I wouldn’t have to end this blog to go on a walk with my boys
and baby. Thank you to my wonderful providing God that I am indeed not
alone. <o:p></o:p></span><br />
<span style="color: #444444;"><br /></span></div>
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<span style="color: #444444;">After all, I need <i>something</i>
to blog about.</span><o:p></o:p><br />
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Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6995897605087592588.post-52437970338547218102013-02-16T11:59:00.000-07:002013-02-16T11:59:01.544-07:00Month Five<div class="MsoNormal">
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<span style="color: #666666; font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><span style="mso-bidi-font-size: 11.0pt;"><br /></span></span>
<span style="color: #666666; font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><span style="mso-bidi-font-size: 11.0pt;">Are
you five months? Already? That means you’re almost six month</span>s, which is a half of a year,
round that up and it’s a whole year<span style="mso-bidi-font-size: 11.0pt;">.</span>
So pretty much you’re 18 already.<span style="mso-bidi-font-size: 11.0pt;"> </span>Five
months<span style="mso-bidi-font-size: 11.0pt;">
seems so big. YOU’RE so big. A<span none="">nd yet, you are
still a baby. </span></span><span style="background: none;">You’re still my</span><span style="background: none; mso-bidi-font-size: 11.0pt;"> teeny tiny baby
wanting to eat everything that your mouth comes in contact with.</span><span style="background: none;"> It’s a whole
new sensation with those two teeth of yours. </span><span style="background: none; mso-bidi-font-size: 11.0pt;"> But then …as teeny tiny you might be, you are
definitely bigger than a month ago.<o:p></o:p></span></span><br />
<span style="background: none; color: #666666; font-family: Verdana, sans-serif; mso-bidi-font-size: 11.0pt;"><br /></span></div>
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<span style="color: #666666; font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><span style="background: none; mso-bidi-font-size: 11.0pt;">Bird …why are you so edible? I am amazed that despite the
number of times I bite on your cheeks through the day, I’m never satisfied. No
wonder I am always hungry for more. If I were to write this yesterday, you
might be reading about a clingy baby, because let’s face it, you’re a tad
clingy. But today, as always, I am grateful for that. You surprise me with your
love. You giggled when I kissed you. You screamed with delight when I bit your
chin. You bit me back when I offered you mine. Any complaint against you
immediately melted away. And I was in love all over again. You’ve wrapped me
around your little hand and you gnaw </span><span style="background: none;">on it</span><span style="background: none; mso-bidi-font-size: 11.0pt;"> all day long as you do
everything else at this stage. And I let you.<span class="apple-converted-space"> <o:p></o:p></span></span></span><br />
<span style="background: none; mso-bidi-font-size: 11.0pt;"><span class="apple-converted-space" style="color: #666666; font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><br /></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="background: none; color: #666666; font-family: Verdana, sans-serif; mso-bidi-font-size: 11.0pt;">We make each other happy, we laugh with each other, we cry
with each other, we hug each other, we kiss each other, we lock eyes, we
communicate in ways no one else can understand, we get frustrated with each
other many times, but still we both need each other for reasons I can’t
explain. I need you just as much as you need me. I look at you for comfort and
love just as much as you look at me for it. We are two people so dependent on
each other that I can see both of us struggling for independence someday. Believe it or not, I might complain about
your clinginess but I am quite clingy too.<span class="apple-converted-space"> <o:p></o:p></span></span><br />
<span style="background: none; mso-bidi-font-size: 11.0pt;"><span class="apple-converted-space" style="color: #666666; font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><br /></span></span></div>
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<span style="color: #666666; font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><span class="apple-converted-space"><span style="background: none; mso-bidi-font-size: 11.0pt;"> </span></span><span style="background: none; mso-bidi-font-size: 11.0pt;">You are your mommy’s girl already. A mind of her own. I like
it. </span><span style="background: none;">And
daddy’s girl for your enormous personality, I like that even more. </span><span style="background: none; mso-bidi-font-size: 11.0pt;">I would love for you to have an opinion on your likes and
dislikes. I would love for you to be ambitious and pursue any path that you are
passionate about. I would love for you to have a mind of your own and not let
society decide for you. I would love for you to always smile, always giggle,
always chuckle as you do now when mommy kissed you or when daddy blows
raspberries on your belly.<span class="apple-converted-space"> You can
light up the world with your smile and the laugh that follows. We can’t go
anywhere without people commenting on how alert and personable you are, and you’re
always sure to thank them with one of your famous grins. <o:p></o:p></span></span></span><br />
<span style="background: none; mso-bidi-font-size: 11.0pt;"><span class="apple-converted-space" style="color: #666666; font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><br /></span></span></div>
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<span style="color: #666666; font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><span class="apple-converted-space"><span style="background: none; mso-bidi-font-size: 11.0pt;">You know the
saying “you have to crawl before you walk”? I fear this isn’t going to be true
for you. At the rate you’re going you
might skip the crawling fundamentals all together. I hope this doesn’t set you up to be a long
term rule breaker. From your belly position, you can shoot right up on</span></span><span class="apple-converted-space"><span style="background: none;">to your hands and tippy toes, as if standing up to walk. You
are perfecting your eye-hand coordination with every gasp of the nose or bat at
a toy. There is no mistaking your intentions in your movements. </span></span><span class="apple-converted-space"><span style="background: none; mso-bidi-font-size: 11.0pt;"><o:p></o:p></span></span></span><br />
<span class="apple-converted-space"><span style="background: none; color: #666666; font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><br /></span></span></div>
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<span style="color: #666666; font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><span style="background: none; mso-bidi-font-size: 11.0pt;">It is in your smiles that your dad and I find joy as we never
knew before. It is in your laughter that we find our laughter. It is in your curiosity
of the world around you that we find our childhood. It is in your cooing that
we find words of unconditional love. It is in your cuddles that we find the
warmth, the love, and the contentment of a life lived well. Lilly, always
remember that no matter where you are in the world and what stage of life you
are in when you are reading this, there are always two people waiting for you
at home whose hearts beat just for you.<span class="apple-converted-space"> </span></span><span style="mso-bidi-font-size: 11.0pt;"><o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
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<br />Unknownnoreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6995897605087592588.post-90833426409733970822013-02-08T15:14:00.000-07:002013-02-08T15:14:28.799-07:00Sweater Weather Yesterday was sweater weather. I couldn't decide if it felt like a crisp fall morning or the beginnings of a spring afternoon. But nonetheless, it was just an unusually warm February day. And so we took a walk. <div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEivXUFINOzwShEyJP4nf2mHC3oHfdLRX8vJh9FFcIoSinLW6ysnh6mez0PJhurJR1kAVetEXzlSzaXjlPdV5FeqYHhSvyM2UWq_1Xq2ZKyLFzQi9AaKMFEpFzddp97wp97bRV6wi3BYnEk/s1600/IMG_2780.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEivXUFINOzwShEyJP4nf2mHC3oHfdLRX8vJh9FFcIoSinLW6ysnh6mez0PJhurJR1kAVetEXzlSzaXjlPdV5FeqYHhSvyM2UWq_1Xq2ZKyLFzQi9AaKMFEpFzddp97wp97bRV6wi3BYnEk/s320/IMG_2780.JPG" width="320" /></a></div>
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Brent felt it was more of a summer's eve kind of day. No sweater required. </div>
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Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6995897605087592588.post-60647726345306425252013-01-31T14:33:00.000-07:002013-01-31T14:33:07.478-07:00Back Burner<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="color: #444444;">I’ve been thinking a lot lately about my husband. Maybe it’s because Valentine’s Day is just
around the corner, or maybe because he just deserves to be thought about. In
retrospect, I’m more in love with him than ever before, but (there’s always a <i>but</i>) I feel so undeserving. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="color: #444444;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="color: #444444;">I have Brent. I have him forever and I am ohsograteful. Since baby it’s been four months of <i>can you’s, will you’s, and do you mind’s. </i>Can
you get me a drink? Will you turn off the light? Do you mind not eating dinner
because I forgot to cook it for the third night in a row? These types of
things. He answers every single one of them with a <i>yes dear </i>and a smile. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="color: #444444;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="color: #444444;">He’s been put on the back burner. Unintentionally of course, but it happened. And
through it all, he’s a man of pure grace and patience. He knows his time will come. I am struggling to find the balance between
mommy and wife, and yet he seems to be so sure of himself. When all attention
went to Lilly, his focus stayed right on me. I’m his princess, he says. It’s
true; I most definitely feel like his princess. While I’m looking into the eyes
of our child, he’s staring at us both.
His love shines so bright. I want
to be more like him. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="color: #444444;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="color: #444444;">He dances with
me in the kitchen. He starts tickle wars as I fall asleep. He sings to the
radio with me. He works hard and plays even harder. And most importantly, he loves us with all
his heart. And it shows.</span><o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0.0001pt; text-align: center;">
<span style="color: #741b47;">We laugh
until we think we’ll die, barefoot on a summer night. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0.0001pt; text-align: center;">
<span style="color: #741b47;">Nothing new
is sweeter than with you. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0.0001pt; text-align: center;">
<span style="color: #741b47;">And in the
streets we’re running free, like it’s only you and me. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0.0001pt; text-align: center;">
<span style="color: #741b47;">Gee you’re
something to see. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span class="watch-title yt-uix-expander-head" dir="ltr" style="-webkit-user-select: auto; border: 0px; cursor: auto; margin: 0px; padding: 0px;" title="Edward Sharpe & The Magnetic Zeros - Home"><span style="font-family: Courier New, Courier, monospace;"><b><a href="http://www.youtube.com/artist/edward-sharpe-the-magnetic-zeros?feature=watch_video_title" id="watch-headline-show-title" style="border: 0px; cursor: pointer; margin: 0px; padding: 0px; text-decoration: initial;"><span style="color: black;">Edward Sharpe & The Magnetic Zeros</span></a> - Home</b></span></span><br />
<span class="watch-title yt-uix-expander-head" dir="ltr" style="-webkit-user-select: auto; border: 0px; cursor: auto; margin: 0px; padding: 0px;" title="Edward Sharpe & The Magnetic Zeros - Home"><span style="font-family: Courier New, Courier, monospace;"><b><br /></b></span></span>
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Unknownnoreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6995897605087592588.post-25357273030781690882013-01-20T16:17:00.000-07:002013-01-20T16:17:33.421-07:00Craftaholic<span style="color: #741b47;"><span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">Being a </span><i><span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;">stay at home momma</span></i><span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"> has it's advantages and disadvantages. For one, it killed my social interactions and our income took a nosedive. Minor details, right? But all thanks to my hubs hard work and a new group for Bridger Valley Mommies, it's all smooth sailing from here. One other main advantage? I can craft to my hearts content. </span></span><div>
<span style="color: #741b47; font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><br /></span></div>
<div>
<span style="color: #741b47; font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">Here's an example or two..or nineteen.</span></div>
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<span style="color: #741b47; font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"> number made: 5 </span><span style="color: #741b47; font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"> number made: 2</span></div>
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<span style="color: #741b47; font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj3REiLe9jvfXwRx7WYKgxynLTM4apsJStN4IRUSv9datTrxW7n5WD49ku0dHIPRSinWZQR-NvUuBKZ9LXDGLPciZQUjb04occEHL3X9ItbBe4DmZlJwjiph49azLbMBVVs4Dcyd8DaIxI/s1600/IMG_1822.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj3REiLe9jvfXwRx7WYKgxynLTM4apsJStN4IRUSv9datTrxW7n5WD49ku0dHIPRSinWZQR-NvUuBKZ9LXDGLPciZQUjb04occEHL3X9ItbBe4DmZlJwjiph49azLbMBVVs4Dcyd8DaIxI/s320/IMG_1822.JPG" width="320" /></a><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhfh9rZ04YPlVYKuoa2TEaeZFjwEkxXfK4p4Wv1Y85Bp14Z2v2EIODc4XX9y-lGTm05IgnAswUf_bNtT0cUMsHAjzIOv1T9ZvxlBqO4eazpzrfW1Ll66k9KTht-EBPc_L0j8tMIuvYHQeQ/s1600/IMG_1808.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhfh9rZ04YPlVYKuoa2TEaeZFjwEkxXfK4p4Wv1Y85Bp14Z2v2EIODc4XX9y-lGTm05IgnAswUf_bNtT0cUMsHAjzIOv1T9ZvxlBqO4eazpzrfW1Ll66k9KTht-EBPc_L0j8tMIuvYHQeQ/s320/IMG_1808.JPG" width="240" /></a></span></div>
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<span style="text-align: start;"><span style="color: #741b47; font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"> number made: 3</span></span></div>
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<span style="color: #741b47; font-family: Verdana, sans-serif; margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiIt_I0pSMVIIUjd3CUGIv7NACX9ZM9WSJWFgOh4NSTneEOdeWQDayG4j0aPmCQuPLrieHU-5rri4P4wYCsyc6gXkBoiLa1Ftkl2zLpzRS9NVBLd-RCqgyySO3ePEUz1z7ChFnyGKumK3o/s1600/IMG_2505.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiIt_I0pSMVIIUjd3CUGIv7NACX9ZM9WSJWFgOh4NSTneEOdeWQDayG4j0aPmCQuPLrieHU-5rri4P4wYCsyc6gXkBoiLa1Ftkl2zLpzRS9NVBLd-RCqgyySO3ePEUz1z7ChFnyGKumK3o/s400/IMG_2505.JPG" width="300" /></a></span></div>
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<span style="color: #741b47; font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">bird helped on this one</span></div>
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<span style="color: #741b47; font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjyc_Q3qxsdz5LAqR7z11rxiqyo4LU-HVI7vGpE407ZEbMMI9sAzGx64dU7dWYX65v1t4Wx7Nnwwq3aE-0jUhiNyU4VwTsAr0zqOstf0ZJ2yhBvqiz2p8QB6VhIwlTGJ_gibAOEq-9Jhyphenhypheno/s1600/IMG_2069.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjyc_Q3qxsdz5LAqR7z11rxiqyo4LU-HVI7vGpE407ZEbMMI9sAzGx64dU7dWYX65v1t4Wx7Nnwwq3aE-0jUhiNyU4VwTsAr0zqOstf0ZJ2yhBvqiz2p8QB6VhIwlTGJ_gibAOEq-9Jhyphenhypheno/s320/IMG_2069.JPG" width="240" /></a><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh_mVOyjVDcwUJMR3FhnNvF3c0r9MGoQmLcKkMJ9NzU1h3XlrshZ2xRPYo5FANN50BbKgwRRLaQrnuA9Bxj_kBB5GpQz_lYsCRn2gHfEeE4fET4FEhyphenhyphenzAP5-YyX4xhRy9t8hsEzZqZT2rg/s1600/IMG_2504.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh_mVOyjVDcwUJMR3FhnNvF3c0r9MGoQmLcKkMJ9NzU1h3XlrshZ2xRPYo5FANN50BbKgwRRLaQrnuA9Bxj_kBB5GpQz_lYsCRn2gHfEeE4fET4FEhyphenhyphenzAP5-YyX4xhRy9t8hsEzZqZT2rg/s320/IMG_2504.JPG" width="240" /></a></span></div>
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<span style="text-align: start;"><span style="color: #741b47; font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"> number made: 4</span></span></div>
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<span style="color: #741b47; font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjg-GFD5iaR0s3DPrgQiOKvWM6ynUDgSUneYRGIAJ7WmgppZQ53YIklYSmIh0meekTbya34Kj0DZka8Y_mRKatZEqie9UVGqSSwOet_1g1Ov8VAW73XeBk_xFt4_AkJaf76YokRX9WJz7s/s1600/IMG_2501.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjg-GFD5iaR0s3DPrgQiOKvWM6ynUDgSUneYRGIAJ7WmgppZQ53YIklYSmIh0meekTbya34Kj0DZka8Y_mRKatZEqie9UVGqSSwOet_1g1Ov8VAW73XeBk_xFt4_AkJaf76YokRX9WJz7s/s320/IMG_2501.JPG" width="320" /></a><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhXLc_xlnuKZqZnRD5fzzm-un4HLU3PeF5GPU1RhWS_c2dn0290KRayrHqqo54P4RC3wffoC1Su1ld5JfTGoKvglU2SCkQMQGMJ6136dm6PL3Sh4g6A8-XGiUUF2ECmYv8fz4UtjE4H5SQ/s1600/IMG_2503.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhXLc_xlnuKZqZnRD5fzzm-un4HLU3PeF5GPU1RhWS_c2dn0290KRayrHqqo54P4RC3wffoC1Su1ld5JfTGoKvglU2SCkQMQGMJ6136dm6PL3Sh4g6A8-XGiUUF2ECmYv8fz4UtjE4H5SQ/s320/IMG_2503.JPG" width="240" /></a></span></div>
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<span style="color: #741b47; font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><span style="text-align: start;"> number made: 12 sets </span>number made: 6</span></div>
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<span style="color: #741b47; font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">necklace charm all handmade except the feather</span></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiVglaC-lrf83evUsZTRcm0zG1YPk5RBHKUkytfrQ5VXe6woLDjpwXOGcb_tDx82M5NY1MtVqlbaXUwinfHS2gi-rDElQ7XSZnB_j81ALkQ3aEkY7s72_rKalloBmX7SRlHA7RsHlNCVZw/s1600/IMG_2495.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><span style="color: #741b47; font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><img border="0" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiVglaC-lrf83evUsZTRcm0zG1YPk5RBHKUkytfrQ5VXe6woLDjpwXOGcb_tDx82M5NY1MtVqlbaXUwinfHS2gi-rDElQ7XSZnB_j81ALkQ3aEkY7s72_rKalloBmX7SRlHA7RsHlNCVZw/s400/IMG_2495.JPG" width="300" /></span></a></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhrLNr0eX-eyoLWdX9I0xc6Nzaj5qqZUOP7VUaid-mSepkH_0kNTl_I9Kwxa_hcn93Royg4MB9CiviqZmTabDol59Q5QnFcV2S9C7KIQS6ERt8FBGlvfYqIM0N-yf3QbhRqnd5-2tuceYs/s1600/IMG_2493.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><span style="color: #741b47; font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><img border="0" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhrLNr0eX-eyoLWdX9I0xc6Nzaj5qqZUOP7VUaid-mSepkH_0kNTl_I9Kwxa_hcn93Royg4MB9CiviqZmTabDol59Q5QnFcV2S9C7KIQS6ERt8FBGlvfYqIM0N-yf3QbhRqnd5-2tuceYs/s640/IMG_2493.JPG" width="480" /></span></a></div>
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<span style="color: #741b47; font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">And I'm getting just a tad excited for Valentines Day</span></div>
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<span style="color: #741b47; font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">Happy crafting fellow mommies.</span></div>
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<span style="color: #741b47; font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">or dads.</span></div>
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<span style="color: #741b47; font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">or single folk.</span></div>
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<span style="color: #741b47; font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">or folks with no kids.</span></div>
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<span style="color: #741b47; font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">whomever, actually. </span></div>
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Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6995897605087592588.post-83697808881522691502013-01-16T12:30:00.000-07:002013-01-16T12:30:23.762-07:00Trade<span style="color: #741b47; font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">We traded; the bird and I did. </span><br />
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<span style="color: #741b47; font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">See, since I was 15, I've needed my wisdom teeth pulled. And ten years later I finally mustered up the guts to do it. So I scheduled the surgery and penciled in a week for recover at my Mommas house. Everything went great; I don't remember a dang thing and Lilly bounced down the halls with her Nana as they waited. I expected a week on the couch eating my fair share of pudding and ice cream. Instead, we went out for chicken wings and french fries the next day. Easy-peasy. </span></div>
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<span style="color: #741b47;"><span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">Not so easy-peasy? Bird on drugs. Since we didn't get the </span><span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;"><i>no boob milk for you</i> </span></span><span style="color: #741b47; font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">memo until after the surgery, we tried our luck with formula and a bottle. That kid impresses me everyday with her ability to catch whatever I throw at her. She took to it like it was no big deal. It made our midnight snacks a little difficult, but we survived. </span></div>
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<span style="color: #741b47; font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">What did we trade? Teeth. I lost four and Bird gained one. Sure enough, Saturday morning, an extra guest made an appearance. Bird's first tooth, on the bottom right to be exact. It's a pretty big deal around here. </span></div>
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<span style="color: #741b47; font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">So, four days after the surgery I can finally justify my "week of recovery". Between my regimen of Lortab, Ibuprofen, and amoxicillin, a horrible case of nausea hit. No joke, even facebooking would make me nauseated. Woe is me. So while I kept to myself on the couch, here is a recap of the bird happenings. </span></div>
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<span style="color: #38761d; font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;"><b>1. Woke up next to Nana. It was going to be a good day from the start.</b></span></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjFTPWS3Yo_6oYml4_wF-L69XYeNYS3wMTk1avb0TiQBzwX8AkzC4fnJZoerCbRhyphenhyphenmtjg-KEFHUy4y3WuhkU2CcCAO5plv_DzkRG0n-UUIrSPu8TkmEuln3cAQZeO8I84Q-wLXDfGgftHc/s1600/IMG_2432.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><span style="color: #38761d; font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;"><b><img border="0" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjFTPWS3Yo_6oYml4_wF-L69XYeNYS3wMTk1avb0TiQBzwX8AkzC4fnJZoerCbRhyphenhyphenmtjg-KEFHUy4y3WuhkU2CcCAO5plv_DzkRG0n-UUIrSPu8TkmEuln3cAQZeO8I84Q-wLXDfGgftHc/s400/IMG_2432.JPG" width="400" /></b></span></a></div>
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<span style="color: #38761d; font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;"><b>2. Shared some bananas with Papa.</b></span></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg61g-q-yEPQLarcCNGwd7CeUYAYfAk69nBEMxGaT1acVLSYdEY4zsQGSjGG6-vqdbQv5oq5xFqwsD3Oh9tjRWWwWfvlIhHT8ueRO8oNQhR9dHV6jw3KXGHaV_f9_tYEhaUNncQZ1UX_Lo/s1600/IMG_2427.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><span style="color: #38761d; font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;"><b><img border="0" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg61g-q-yEPQLarcCNGwd7CeUYAYfAk69nBEMxGaT1acVLSYdEY4zsQGSjGG6-vqdbQv5oq5xFqwsD3Oh9tjRWWwWfvlIhHT8ueRO8oNQhR9dHV6jw3KXGHaV_f9_tYEhaUNncQZ1UX_Lo/s400/IMG_2427.jpg" width="300" /></b></span></a></div>
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<span style="color: #38761d; font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;"><b>3. Cruised around in my automobile. </b></span></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhkvU2xvhasagFmJlQLAa8lmPNS283s_YAbXS0Jyv3kImfgi7rPeoj4esi1TiL1ulrYUfYGuYbAr1mljX13f5jI1QgBeUdTzXbb05sJY93clkM_z51kjxBEIRv7zn6fzNO_-Qjh5y9Odh4/s1600/IMG_2403.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><span style="color: #38761d; font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;"><b><img border="0" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhkvU2xvhasagFmJlQLAa8lmPNS283s_YAbXS0Jyv3kImfgi7rPeoj4esi1TiL1ulrYUfYGuYbAr1mljX13f5jI1QgBeUdTzXbb05sJY93clkM_z51kjxBEIRv7zn6fzNO_-Qjh5y9Odh4/s400/IMG_2403.JPG" width="300" /></b></span></a></div>
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<span style="color: #38761d; font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;"><b>4. Cruised around in Nana's automobile, with no particular place to go.</b></span></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiFBa5T3n5w77Hp_ZT-PQoZjL-t_FGiuZbZtnrIZgVFeIhaflwdQSy8E_-lNpxzpRebalxZQdvD_RKlaDZ8By-NdqgLfj0L63YUTcsfrgONepdJc6TmeRbaG5vyLe3YpauGU6UusJizAMc/s1600/IMG_2414.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><span style="color: #38761d; font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;"><b><img border="0" height="300" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiFBa5T3n5w77Hp_ZT-PQoZjL-t_FGiuZbZtnrIZgVFeIhaflwdQSy8E_-lNpxzpRebalxZQdvD_RKlaDZ8By-NdqgLfj0L63YUTcsfrgONepdJc6TmeRbaG5vyLe3YpauGU6UusJizAMc/s400/IMG_2414.JPG" width="400" /></b></span></a></div>
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<span style="color: #38761d; font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;"><b> 5. Spent the evening hanging out in my <i>Jonny </i>Jump-up.</b></span><br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgdze5S3UX0Z4UPDJxpJU3mvXSRcIqmKMfpQR34KEonabOkzOex59Puy-4v8xtGQhyphenhyphen_xCfS86bsRraVpTLCyYzvBGOi6gl-psQFgeY-kyj6b_zXuHDaM7poWnHoMknSNTuMSpaRKLmNT9Q/s1600/IMG_2424.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><span style="color: #38761d; font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;"><b><img border="0" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgdze5S3UX0Z4UPDJxpJU3mvXSRcIqmKMfpQR34KEonabOkzOex59Puy-4v8xtGQhyphenhyphen_xCfS86bsRraVpTLCyYzvBGOi6gl-psQFgeY-kyj6b_zXuHDaM7poWnHoMknSNTuMSpaRKLmNT9Q/s400/IMG_2424.jpg" width="300" /></b></span></a></div>
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<span style="color: #38761d; font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;"><b> 6. Ended the night curled up with Papa, Jack-Jack, Allie, and Toby. Can you guess who's who?</b></span><br />
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<span style="color: #38761d; font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif; margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><b><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgoRkb0y-Yk51bs__LUL5yxNsZn6kTrSJdV_dWYXM4HhS5H2hmen9MJsaYVyFXlm4SPvKz4uY3GgWIeeff48u4rf6QJ5Mh0kYQCKB8NL4h-IN8K95_sWabdHK9XdoQqyiesHzYI-LpQz_o/s1600/IMG_2433.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgoRkb0y-Yk51bs__LUL5yxNsZn6kTrSJdV_dWYXM4HhS5H2hmen9MJsaYVyFXlm4SPvKz4uY3GgWIeeff48u4rf6QJ5Mh0kYQCKB8NL4h-IN8K95_sWabdHK9XdoQqyiesHzYI-LpQz_o/s640/IMG_2433.jpg" width="360" /></a></b></span></div>
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Unknownnoreply@blogger.com9tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6995897605087592588.post-83036566995336347292013-01-16T11:55:00.000-07:002013-01-16T11:55:57.334-07:00Month Four<span style="letter-spacing: 0px;"><span style="color: #741b47; font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">All of your clothes say 0-3 months. In fact, <i>everything</i> so far has been “0-3 months”. Every milestone, pair of socks, and carseat settings can fit into 0-3. And now all of the sudden, you’re four months old. What do I do with a four month old? </span></span><br />
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<span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"><span style="color: #741b47; font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">A sudden and accidental swing at a toy has now become intentional grabs at your Papa’s nose or big reaches for my cup of coffee. You are so good with your hands. I love watching you grow and learn. First it was your entire fist in your mouth and now you can pinpoint your pointer finger right into your mouth. You’re so sassy. Everything is done with intent now; every smile, cry, laugh, stare and grab. </span></span><br />
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<span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"><span style="color: #741b47; font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">Christmas was spectacular with you, especially the wrapping paper. You scored a toy or two, pretty cute outfits, books, and boxes of diapers. All of which you could care less about because you had paper. But dad and I surly appreciated it all. Next year will be yours Bird. You gave dad and me a pretty cool gift as well. You rolled over, the day after christmas. You always keep us guessing. Nana was there to see it. And when we cheered and yelled for you, you cried. I guess were a little more excited than you were. </span></span><br />
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<span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"><span style="color: #741b47; font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">You didn’t do as well with New Year’s. You kinda pooped out on us around 9:00. It’s okay, we kissed you anyway. </span></span><br />
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<span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"><span style="color: #741b47; font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">You have a Jenny Jump-up. We haven’t used it until now because your head didn’t reach the top and your feet couldn’t touch the ground. But now...now you are the jump-up extraordinaire. We discovered your love for jumping when just sitting with us was no longer acceptable. Everything was about standing up and moving those little legs of yours, and move they do. You are so strong. You go absolutely crazy in that thing. Jumping all over, swinging, and laughing the whole time...until you hit your head. Then it’s no fun and time for mom to come get you. You’re a champ when you hit your head...trust me, I’ve whacked it on enough things by now for you to be used to it. Sorry about that Bird. </span></span><br />
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<span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"><span style="color: #741b47; font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">You are the biggest love. Nothing makes me happier than the smile we both get when we see each other. Rather it’s after nap time, date night with daddy, or entering a room, your bald headed toothless smile gets me every time. </span></span><br />
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<span style="letter-spacing: 0px;"><span style="color: #741b47; font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">So now, your clothes are either too tight or too big. You play instead of sleep. And the introduction to bananas is going well...very well. What a month, my big girl, so long baby bird, and hello silly Lilly. </span></span><br />
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