tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-28064258189402831822024-03-13T12:42:28.337-06:00Happy is a verbA mommy blog about family life, crafts, mental health and finding happinessUnknownnoreply@blogger.comBlogger100125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2806425818940283182.post-28049606875774497952020-05-09T22:43:00.001-06:002021-01-24T21:41:06.961-07:00Blooming Flowers Mothers Day Gift (Free Printable!)Moms are softies. They love things that probably shouldn't be kept and especially sentimental thank you's. I have waaaay too many of them, and yet they continue to melt my heart. This printable is made for kids to cut, color and gift their mommas should they need a last minute gift (it's ok. If you're here printing one it means your a good giver). The cool part is that you can print them out, color them and then fold each petal into the center and they will really bloom! Put them in a small dish of water, and as the water absorbs through the paper the petals unfold before your eyes. It's as much fun for the kids as it is for the moms. Write a special message on<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhswCtOqvI3jjqEETiK7-rfZYLUpySVeL7_pBz4ojzHceFftgXpe1ZKlFJMi3ySnrChXJtHt3E82cfI-dhlGM54tt7LqJJdzwViXhLv5P-Fch2J7P50mROJvD53OWomfv8Q7U90E8R-fdI/" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="6600" data-original-width="5100" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhswCtOqvI3jjqEETiK7-rfZYLUpySVeL7_pBz4ojzHceFftgXpe1ZKlFJMi3ySnrChXJtHt3E82cfI-dhlGM54tt7LqJJdzwViXhLv5P-Fch2J7P50mROJvD53OWomfv8Q7U90E8R-fdI/s320/Mothers+Day+Blooming+Flowers+Free+Printable.jpg" /></a></div> the center of the flower if you want it to be even better. Enjoy!Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2806425818940283182.post-22104106765181441122020-03-03T22:23:00.001-07:002021-01-24T21:41:06.998-07:002020 Update<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhnyQ_QFIfGEw1BHjOhF3-n0MneQQ-uBcFNsBlqiEsta-YAsG9ydntdwUOd37TlC6feKjLXmHS6qUHPnXw4QXmXgzSStphn6N8I0-iFhgfN1XxVImC1lZwksCuujaJWDrBsXli8rnqzYO8/" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="2448" data-original-width="3264" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhnyQ_QFIfGEw1BHjOhF3-n0MneQQ-uBcFNsBlqiEsta-YAsG9ydntdwUOd37TlC6feKjLXmHS6qUHPnXw4QXmXgzSStphn6N8I0-iFhgfN1XxVImC1lZwksCuujaJWDrBsXli8rnqzYO8/s320/IMG_0592.JPG" width="320" /></a></div>I was contemplating where to launch one of my most recent projects (always a project going) and I revisited my blog here. I am bewildered at the realization that it has been 11 years since I began this blog! Yes, in 2009. I still can't believe it. What have I been doing all this time? Certainly not blogging. In 2019 I don't think I actually posted a single post. But the motivations behind this blog are truly worth the time, so here is an update.
1. My kids are old. Our sweet H is a teenager. As in full blown teenager. The other night after she left our room upset because it was too late for her to shower in our bathroom (she hates using the bathroom where all the boys pee. It's a valid thing) she stormed out after giving me a mouthful. My husband and I both kinda sat there with no response. All I could say was "Never would've seen that coming when she was 3 and the sweetest thing alive". And yet here we are. She's still incredibly sweet but so sassy and determined. Maybe that will pay off later.<div> Budge is almost a teenager and man that kid has a sharp tongue. It's almost like we have official debates about things when he is in trouble. Everything is debatable. Even when it's not. He also has such a big heart. He's also incredibly sincere in his desires to do good. He got the priesthood (which in the Church of Jesus Christ of Latter Day Saints) is a pretty big deal. It means you can stand in God's place to serve others with his specific power and authority. You are able to pass the sacrament to congregation members and participate in temple baptism services. He's trying really hard to remain worthy to use his priesthood power. <div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiSFZ_vqWYgutidYeek1V5ZYJZjw1GyCMXHbodcQ_d3pa6kt3lmiOnDS2Vjee9jWmxlk_bmQsdURwm1-X23B6HuYLT75f08i7jSFTn2yHj0zVS9lThVwpxMpZYCXAq3UK58pWiF9CQ2flU/" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="3264" data-original-width="2448" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiSFZ_vqWYgutidYeek1V5ZYJZjw1GyCMXHbodcQ_d3pa6kt3lmiOnDS2Vjee9jWmxlk_bmQsdURwm1-X23B6HuYLT75f08i7jSFTn2yHj0zVS9lThVwpxMpZYCXAq3UK58pWiF9CQ2flU/s320/IMG_0571.JPG" /></a></div><div> Limmer is as tall as Budge. Really. People ask me all the time if they're twins. I suppose that's good natured enough (though they'd have to be fraternal twins where they look so different). He's is hilarious these days. I am really enjoying the older kid stage sense of humor. He catches subtle social injustices and calls them out hilariously. I love it. He is still stubborn and a hard worker. It's tough being 21 months younger than your twin, but he holds his own most of the time. He also tells me that I don't pay attention to disciplining so he tries to instead. Thanks for that. I tried to explain that parents pick their battles but I think he only thought that makes me a terrible parent. Oh well, he'll get it in the future.
Right now we're coaching his basketball team and holy cow. If you've never volunteered to coach a city league team, it's time you repay your debt to society. I never knew what it requires. Our boys are wonderful, but I'm certainly no professional. I spend way too much time on youtube researching drills and asking ridiculous questions like 'how do I get our basketball team to have more unity?'. I feel all kinds of pressure to teach them the best way to play, but I have always played informally. I was trying to help them be a bit more aggressive in getting the rebound and accidentally taught them to foul. Good thing that my hubbin is the assistant coach (why won't the city recognize he's the assistant and I'm the coach? He doesn't have time to be the coach yet everything has his name on it). He actually understands all the rules and reteaches the boys when he's able to attend. I love that man. He lets me lead out on everything and just corrects and reteaches without throwing me under the bus. I usually get it and acknowledge that I accidentally taught them wrong. Those poor boys are improving a LOT and I'm so proud of them.<div> On to O. He's doing so well in so many areas. He doesn't enjoy reading (or won't admit it) but is like 3 grades ahead in his skills. He struggles with a lot of random anxieties that we're trying to help him with. Our pediatrician recommended this online program called <a href="turnaroundanxiety.com" target="_blank">Turnaround Anxiety</a> and it has been a LIFESAVER. It's like he's found his people and feels finally understood. I'm learning so much as I listen and do the journals with him. I had no idea he struggled so much with fears about school and being alone. But he's coming along and I'm proud of his efforts. He's in Karate and doesn't want to go before each and every class, but still goes and comes back being so much happier. He still screams shrilly and calls everyone names (though not in public, thank you O) but he also is saying 'I love you' much more to his brothers and sister. And he's super brave, he just doesn't realize it yet. But he is! He does things that adults with his fears would never attempt. He's coming right along. <div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjG_WKgWa8DMV_WDNxR531lvjxWHmbRgn1RunK54y7k0HjhHlM8-vHsgwyP4mKMo8G9fyspKuhQQ_Zc3suT67rhzLLnEbSP_ogK3Ppi1QDwnJx01ekFlsPMaNqF0PiEDqtWA0tPNk7vCFQ/" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="2448" data-original-width="3264" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjG_WKgWa8DMV_WDNxR531lvjxWHmbRgn1RunK54y7k0HjhHlM8-vHsgwyP4mKMo8G9fyspKuhQQ_Zc3suT67rhzLLnEbSP_ogK3Ppi1QDwnJx01ekFlsPMaNqF0PiEDqtWA0tPNk7vCFQ/s320/IMG_0694.JPG" width="320" /></a></div></div><div> JamesieBamesie is still a sweetheart. He loves preschool and being with friends (even the neighbors landscapers are his friends: he's so friendly, but has no inhibitions). He struggles with jealousy over my lap and feeding himself. I never thought that I would have a four year old who still waits for me to feed him each bite. The ugly truth is I did it to myself. He's doing great on the independence front, though he's just wrestling with 'how do I be a toddler while still being a big kid' things. He enjoys parts of both (we've helped him to stop sucking his thumb 3 times now...) yet is so ready to move on. I've been wondering if he's ready for full time Kindergarten or just half day. He is so dang cute. He told his grandma the other day with all sincerity: "Grandma if Grandpa tells you what to do, just stay 'You don't tell me what to do, Ok?" We all had a good laugh at that except grandpa. He adores his grandpas, though and wants nothing more than to just be with them. He loves his Grandmas as well. I love that he's a total mommas boy, and snuggles me at every turn, but we've got to get him appreciating his amazing dad a bit more. </div><div> I am trying to be on a diet with Juicy, and she has discipline of steel. I'm doing well, but I have a major addiction to sugar. I'd almost rather have my sugar, but I love how it feels to be healthy too. So I have clean meals and exercise daily and still eat chocolate at night. It works (slowly, but still). I have all these big plans to become a seminary teacher, which I have always wanted to do, but I need to make sure my kiddos are taken care of first. I am reading a book called 'Being Mortal' by A Gawande, and it's making me want to be the recreation specialist at an old folks home for the improvement needed and the satisfaction of seeing so many lives get better, but I don't think that's my calling just now. </div><div> My hubbin is amazing as usual. He works his tail off and still makes time for the kids and I. He seems happy and though stressed, he's managing it better than before. Or maybe it's not the same kind of stress. I'm not sure. Either way, I'm proud of him for what he's accomplishing at work (he's really made some great innovations for his company) and I love him for his dedication to us. He loves the good and right and I am so thankful he makes such great efforts for good with each of our kids and in his church assignments. </div><div> We got a replacement x-box (for our 15 year old one) and he's enjoying gaming again. I think it actually reduces his stress, though I get all tight about any shooting games in front of the kids so they're usually good puzzle and fun games. It's funny the things we care about. I can't abide our kids playing shooter games, and he can't abide them watching movies that say OMG too many times. Maybe both will just help to create something never before seen in society.
It's kind of funny but I feel like I should be writing about who I consider the last member of our family, God. Yet it's not really common or maybe even taboo to talk about the experiences we've had with him in this long time. Yet His influence is such a big deal in our home that it feels funny NOT talking about it. So forgive me, but here I go.<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi9UEVs3VoTuha4uwxTeJDQGRX6TqM9svYOjCjCYPKkLA6OmTB3oFTlBO-SqtGj3yx80xNArrsJliTczUdTttI1fPenPrmEx5jvsTtapeZv7mnTR-bDPkNz4ecxWyYWtQbsZeb20zKXLNM/" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1280" data-original-width="960" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi9UEVs3VoTuha4uwxTeJDQGRX6TqM9svYOjCjCYPKkLA6OmTB3oFTlBO-SqtGj3yx80xNArrsJliTczUdTttI1fPenPrmEx5jvsTtapeZv7mnTR-bDPkNz4ecxWyYWtQbsZeb20zKXLNM/s320/TAUR9045.JPG" /></a></div></div><div> We've been studying this family manual since last year about the scriptures. It breaks the bible and Book of Mormon into chunks and then assigns you parts to read and gets you asking questions about each part. It is such a great guide because it's not shoving doctrine down our throats, yet it creates a space to appreciate parts of the Savior's life that were recorded intentionally by people who loved him and represented him. It's called 'Come, Follow Me' and I really like it. I find myself (and our family) having a lot more conversation about why different commandments are important and how they've affected our lives. I find myself bearing testimony more often to my children of the reasons I know Jesus lives. And in my prayers I've found that I feel less inclined to drone on about meaningless things, because God is becoming more of my interaction and I know he already knows the deets, and I can talk to Him about how I view things. The kicker is that I feel like he's responding to me. Sometimes just in acknowledgement, and sometimes in pretty blatant inspiration, like if a friend were to give their input. More importantly, I feel answers to my questions and that is very faith strengthening. So often we've gone ahead with what we know is right, because it's right and we 'must be doing this for some reason'. And then when the Creator gives his bit of input in my prayers it's kinda like 'woah, I knew you were real, but I just didn't know you were real'. Does that make sense? At any rate, I've loved the new familiarity that I've found in the scriptures with help from that manual and modern day prophets and leaders (especially Sharon Eubank- I've loved her insights). </div><div> So there is my update, in all of it's deeply personal and messy glory. I certainly recognize my imperfections and if you feel that you need to draw my attention to some, I get that. I generally benefit from input from those who care about me, so if you do, you're welcome to leave it. I truly hope this post finds you well! Love, Becky</div></div></div>Unknownnoreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2806425818940283182.post-8978713095040944352018-09-23T10:12:00.000-06:002021-01-24T21:41:07.009-07:00Minimalist Christmas Letters for Large FamiliesSometimes Christmas gets overwhelming, especially when you have many kids who are eager to ask the world of Santa. For larger families, giving everything everyone wants for Christmas is completely impossible. What's worse is that so often only a month or two the gifts are scattered and not interesting anymore. Not worth it!<br />
After talking with friends who feel the same, I decided that there is a different (possibly an even better way) to approach Santa.<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiBNsw2BbayXNdCuSZvvT1wi8mSFGH2mztqFX7oNDORZeGeBQM4SzbPoZZd2x2rgktdPZ753GHc7UZVQP2OnvoKlUI4jTxEgMapousYDH1FVaHXSU1W7FqoZ36QERk36xRDRUBA_ePIlGM/s1600/Santa+letter.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1600" data-original-width="1237" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiBNsw2BbayXNdCuSZvvT1wi8mSFGH2mztqFX7oNDORZeGeBQM4SzbPoZZd2x2rgktdPZ753GHc7UZVQP2OnvoKlUI4jTxEgMapousYDH1FVaHXSU1W7FqoZ36QERk36xRDRUBA_ePIlGM/s640/Santa+letter.jpg" width="494" /></a></div>
This year we are asking for some things in a structured way that lets the kids dream and think of new possibilities. We're asking for experiences instead of things (visiting a children's museum or tickets to the movies or going to a restaurant), a few things that are exciting (like a surfing), some real needs (think socks, underwear, etc) and new books or things to try (have you ever heard 'why don't we ever buy takis chips?' or some other thing you'd never buy? Let them ask away here)<br />
<br />
It's important to note that I've clearly told my kiddos that Santa will likely bring one of their ideas from each category. Not all of them. Expectations are important here!<br />
<br />
So, if you'd like to branch out as well, and try a different idea for Christmas lists, try ours! You're welcome to <a href="https://drive.google.com/file/d/1NI8MGWHdhtUM9WfZT5PlABiWrfuMlEBW/view?usp=sharing">download it here</a><a href="https://drive.google.com/file/d/1NI8MGWHdhtUM9WfZT5PlABiWrfuMlEBW/view?usp=sharing">!</a><br />
<br />
Happy Giving!<br />
<br />Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2806425818940283182.post-22803392756727679662017-04-23T16:19:00.003-06:002021-01-24T21:41:07.019-07:00beauty may be worth the pain<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
Finally, this project is complete! I actually finished it and in the whirlwind didn't post. I'm sorry! Your lives go on just fine, though, I realize i'm not holding up anyone's dreams :)</div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
But I'm happy with how it finished!</div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg-yrlIoGb2Fl2aF9M2xqcHF7D9-u2B0wZwuNxx7hAk_gDDtNuCAKeYgxMDBmqjzvxqg2V73pCYNqh5W3evG5d4489VGg70C6IBvNMecj20r14qfrMhsms4c8OyfLBrmOghbI8hX5_Ro1M/s1600/20170304_192329.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="360" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg-yrlIoGb2Fl2aF9M2xqcHF7D9-u2B0wZwuNxx7hAk_gDDtNuCAKeYgxMDBmqjzvxqg2V73pCYNqh5W3evG5d4489VGg70C6IBvNMecj20r14qfrMhsms4c8OyfLBrmOghbI8hX5_Ro1M/s640/20170304_192329.jpg" width="640" /></a></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiM6jhj4iCKgpRF4YdBNoeRjY211Vnv4HD8tlw_wuKjRsRvl1slNg3HhD4S_6PYJxYsEusyInkgOzy16CyDCg_AwAxroNyg6yJWxXcC3IaChr35p6qpk2d76wYtSobxsJtMQh0hbCCH7Mk/s1600/20170225_121300.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><br /> <img border="0" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiM6jhj4iCKgpRF4YdBNoeRjY211Vnv4HD8tlw_wuKjRsRvl1slNg3HhD4S_6PYJxYsEusyInkgOzy16CyDCg_AwAxroNyg6yJWxXcC3IaChr35p6qpk2d76wYtSobxsJtMQh0hbCCH7Mk/s400/20170225_121300.jpg" width="300" /></a></div>
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiM6jhj4iCKgpRF4YdBNoeRjY211Vnv4HD8tlw_wuKjRsRvl1slNg3HhD4S_6PYJxYsEusyInkgOzy16CyDCg_AwAxroNyg6yJWxXcC3IaChr35p6qpk2d76wYtSobxsJtMQh0hbCCH7Mk/s1600/20170225_121300.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><br /></a>
<br />
Am I happy enough to do it again? Well I still remember the way it felt trying to get it to turn out well. That was no small feat. And Don't look closely, or you'll see why.<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
Notice the pattern painting in on itself in the upper right hand corner here? Yes, I wanted to just wall paper over it all. However I was lucky to find that if you just paint it all out, imperfect and iffy, you can just go back over where the blue lines should be, and your eye seams it together as if they're all the same size. Thank you brain tricks.</div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj8FvNqQ7-qP5qPBp_iV9eNdEf6WpV-oRtuH3cdayD_hNBtC0cl-1nSdXpf2wnfEPwcokDWRxOESnNbMV1tOFooRprOkBAc33kGN451XfvFxOFzf9A61-tP4jMci03TukEOrmL1oJzdRig/s1600/20170302_102806.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="360" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj8FvNqQ7-qP5qPBp_iV9eNdEf6WpV-oRtuH3cdayD_hNBtC0cl-1nSdXpf2wnfEPwcokDWRxOESnNbMV1tOFooRprOkBAc33kGN451XfvFxOFzf9A61-tP4jMci03TukEOrmL1oJzdRig/s640/20170302_102806.jpg" width="640" /></a></div>
<br />
Maybe we should call this wall my homage to the 'Magic Eye' books of the 90s. On a side note, it does make a darling background for me to sell potential etsy products! We'll see if I've got the energy for this one :)<br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg0Qr3_a1zCGMf-mWfqY17-sZY9NhM90FN9k4Z6-tCNIFcYBz-C2JoVwxxfQbEEpnK_3IuFQZHNqufxGWCK8e_hxczU7IoCJybrHKa2bCACAHzw-pJphbwPs1zztgIdRnda1xeScZ7b4KY/s1600/20170327_112129.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="360" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg0Qr3_a1zCGMf-mWfqY17-sZY9NhM90FN9k4Z6-tCNIFcYBz-C2JoVwxxfQbEEpnK_3IuFQZHNqufxGWCK8e_hxczU7IoCJybrHKa2bCACAHzw-pJphbwPs1zztgIdRnda1xeScZ7b4KY/s640/20170327_112129.jpg" width="640" /></a></div>
<br />
<br />
For now, it's landscaping time, and we're taking this yard to another dimension:<br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjT_uvYMeL5jpn77Tt_A2lE3s7ub1ZcVSgNlpFzMRX6u95-wAyNv-XmXScbtG_M_kd9xSuJ8Gox3b3f9YMdQ6sb-XI9axm0ylFLXBu6IYIVROTIyFdNE1px-YehA4rqheJxPKMsS1NvYSM/s1600/20170317_142015.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="225" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjT_uvYMeL5jpn77Tt_A2lE3s7ub1ZcVSgNlpFzMRX6u95-wAyNv-XmXScbtG_M_kd9xSuJ8Gox3b3f9YMdQ6sb-XI9axm0ylFLXBu6IYIVROTIyFdNE1px-YehA4rqheJxPKMsS1NvYSM/s400/20170317_142015.jpg" width="400" /></a></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
More to come on that next! And by next I mean hopefully with months. Sorry guys, I know I'm lame, but I do love you!</div>
<br />Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2806425818940283182.post-559265661547115542017-02-24T21:25:00.001-07:002021-01-24T21:41:07.030-07:00It's getting real in hereSo if you remember I posted a couple of days ago about trying to figure out how to create my own stencil equipped with My Silhouette machine and paint.<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhLWcEZRK6iOUGIi4DRbpn6GUXIyUu0zx76s131WaLIAlh5JA3C_Jkus1e_9Nbjd0V7ZMEZaZLF0RJacm4iYxoUsP1htdrr56x0-yP233C8NRtOYG0APoiwSrWbZdm2i0J9NdRG3iR5uZg/s1600/20170223_181720.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhLWcEZRK6iOUGIi4DRbpn6GUXIyUu0zx76s131WaLIAlh5JA3C_Jkus1e_9Nbjd0V7ZMEZaZLF0RJacm4iYxoUsP1htdrr56x0-yP233C8NRtOYG0APoiwSrWbZdm2i0J9NdRG3iR5uZg/s320/20170223_181720.jpg" width="180" /></a></div>
<br />
<br />
My first attempt was terrible, as the plastic was too thin and totally failed. Not to be deterred I went to my local Ace Hardware and found a 'for rent' plastic sign that had a good weight and was easy to cut with my Silhouette. <br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjU2ejA0IxGebFMG00Vlz7zU8_n7zH4fVKnFZr91-waCzwfAiTaBZhMYwTh0H6VfSfpBYNBx2xl6PP4NYp9faJwA4NszuZEQgyfLIDH25RmKLkOkzjQ95JBxN4Bfu41ABZ8yPg1RFEfVJU/s1600/20170224_110750.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjU2ejA0IxGebFMG00Vlz7zU8_n7zH4fVKnFZr91-waCzwfAiTaBZhMYwTh0H6VfSfpBYNBx2xl6PP4NYp9faJwA4NszuZEQgyfLIDH25RmKLkOkzjQ95JBxN4Bfu41ABZ8yPg1RFEfVJU/s320/20170224_110750.jpg" width="180" /></a></div>
Hold on I shouldn't say easy, I should say complicated, but easy if you know what you're doing. What I found that was NOT necessary was <br />
<a name='more'></a>cutting my stencil 3 times with a double cut.<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhzvMaCTheo2gof3yhEW_SUymMRp076aaMy-xOb0YMzn6ja0rKMwtO_16kWRPFWM9DnooaPkjBS3h2jsaYrPic_IjwMTECV1SvuFLfWuF47hHC4kvXNk0kAzZ-QKvwvTwf7ujynSpLM8Vk/s1600/20170224_102613.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="180" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhzvMaCTheo2gof3yhEW_SUymMRp076aaMy-xOb0YMzn6ja0rKMwtO_16kWRPFWM9DnooaPkjBS3h2jsaYrPic_IjwMTECV1SvuFLfWuF47hHC4kvXNk0kAzZ-QKvwvTwf7ujynSpLM8Vk/s320/20170224_102613.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>
What did work was cutting my stencil one time and then detaching the insides of the stencil from the outline with a very gentle peeling motion. <br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjNWztGPnRtDHVeVhaK8hFR-AvZ3uE_h6ipE4uENXnPLFMxm-O9kL65rJUEFeFevB-JsJgR5vJorkBUfdnB8wNUcz-pW4BOk0goe4Ikh7THiEtEs_sk7pwCaWAxo1CgwP0Z15zlVpkPcHM/s1600/20170224_103107.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjNWztGPnRtDHVeVhaK8hFR-AvZ3uE_h6ipE4uENXnPLFMxm-O9kL65rJUEFeFevB-JsJgR5vJorkBUfdnB8wNUcz-pW4BOk0goe4Ikh7THiEtEs_sk7pwCaWAxo1CgwP0Z15zlVpkPcHM/s320/20170224_103107.jpg" width="180" /></a></div>
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEipSEmRwjFRH7oTRivzcFREMs0OHg6aK_BjWBIW2yNLpvm8xyFHWYN3To-l58zXzmBy4xWMM_c4goCclWSOpLyv3lK7ZFXAhyOFy-RLuPUXdwFxzATOuwr0fAWZeU_kfFCUFDgJ_Y8402I/s1600/20170224_103127.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEipSEmRwjFRH7oTRivzcFREMs0OHg6aK_BjWBIW2yNLpvm8xyFHWYN3To-l58zXzmBy4xWMM_c4goCclWSOpLyv3lK7ZFXAhyOFy-RLuPUXdwFxzATOuwr0fAWZeU_kfFCUFDgJ_Y8402I/s320/20170224_103127.jpg" width="180" /></a></div>
The plastic cut surprisingly easy, which is also a word of caution.<br />
<br />
After figuring that out, I went ahead and tried out my stencil, which was a total failure AGAIN. The reason being this time I did not use removable spray adhesive on the stencil. <br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgGBLL3sB0udaYqKrN_pLiQsxbhPxqmcmln7T9wiYLGbruH_oKmfGDMbhI8MYjqgqpcbmojMs5H__nxyOWz0-gAVJyTxephhbxEedYDcSBzVcK11J69fAL8t1aVZkywj205KumIhDUiolg/s1600/20170224_175143.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgGBLL3sB0udaYqKrN_pLiQsxbhPxqmcmln7T9wiYLGbruH_oKmfGDMbhI8MYjqgqpcbmojMs5H__nxyOWz0-gAVJyTxephhbxEedYDcSBzVcK11J69fAL8t1aVZkywj205KumIhDUiolg/s320/20170224_175143.jpg" width="180" /></a></div>
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi8jsXEwUxmXuzn91ot_oHHpY3QKyEDmadpXl-u4gTvNwMHVqi0A9eudO-6Dhoxx5AGVKKr3IZ4z6GI_drciUorESCs_1V_DAGN7JBizwhiiG7IWQlc2_m-XAKJS3CgXC5X3cpsvFrCBBM/s1600/20170224_172630.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi8jsXEwUxmXuzn91ot_oHHpY3QKyEDmadpXl-u4gTvNwMHVqi0A9eudO-6Dhoxx5AGVKKr3IZ4z6GI_drciUorESCs_1V_DAGN7JBizwhiiG7IWQlc2_m-XAKJS3CgXC5X3cpsvFrCBBM/s320/20170224_172630.jpg" width="180" /></a></div>
<br />
Also, I am no stenciling major, so the lines were super goopy. After lunch and fighting kids and two trips to school -- no 3 trips to school to help kiddos to bring them home, I found my way to Jo-Ann's, bought the spray adhesive I needed and now the stencil works!<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhYXQl7yPm08wK2q8PAHdrbYs1qMMt_RvJ5rDFIofBq4WOLornRhK9cxxh5djLEACfvBZJv45WqjX7wgoXjkfd0kB-kvbZj2UbkiBOtCZKWGIgTiqNxK50weARAAmPybvyYlcsvrFXkdUw/s1600/20170224_190549.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhYXQl7yPm08wK2q8PAHdrbYs1qMMt_RvJ5rDFIofBq4WOLornRhK9cxxh5djLEACfvBZJv45WqjX7wgoXjkfd0kB-kvbZj2UbkiBOtCZKWGIgTiqNxK50weARAAmPybvyYlcsvrFXkdUw/s320/20170224_190549.jpg" width="180" /></a></div>
<br />
It's actually quite beautiful but the crisp lines weren't there and my perfectionist mind is going to need to do something more to tidy up that mess.<br />
<br />
In the end (of today) I'm only about a fourth of the way through the project and though I like it, I'm disheartened. I don't even know why I do crafty things sometimes. It takes literally everything I have to achieve anything that looks professional and my whole family suffers. A friendly reminder, "there's a time and a season" comes to mind, but honestly it's just the pits and that's all I can say with my mom mouth.<br />
<br />
I'm sure things will be better tomorrow and when I get that stinking wall done I'm going to click my heels together and take a picture of myself with it...to remind myself never to do it again.<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhEVj_5TC6H_HV3bCXUXajBmunqZodRVhF7GOmguA6rqTdzoCIpIp-7nxBsbBFoSzZeXfv9ljqNkGw-eWq9n-_WOyfV4OJ734YOXsFnVyhVNsduOo7QcS_i8nlHvoX9uIQnbor8wtJjyIQ/s1600/20170224_160247%25280%2529.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhEVj_5TC6H_HV3bCXUXajBmunqZodRVhF7GOmguA6rqTdzoCIpIp-7nxBsbBFoSzZeXfv9ljqNkGw-eWq9n-_WOyfV4OJ734YOXsFnVyhVNsduOo7QcS_i8nlHvoX9uIQnbor8wtJjyIQ/s320/20170224_160247%25280%2529.jpg" width="180" /></a></div>
Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2806425818940283182.post-40939283555848921892017-02-23T19:24:00.000-07:002021-01-24T21:41:07.043-07:00Stencil FactoryWe just moved into our new home, and couldn't be more excited! We love the area, the people in our neighborhood and the big back yard (that will take a pretty penny to landscape, not my favorite part).<br />
<br />
We built with Journey's End Homes, which was an amazing experience for so many reasons. Chiefly because 1. They're totally honest 2. They only do 3 homes at a time, so they're really on top of things 3. You don't work through any agents, rather directly with the builder (who is so great at what he does) and 4. They really try to make what you want the biggest deal. We were totally taken care of, and they even let us do our own sub contracting (I put in the board and batten!). There's plenty there for a whole other post.<br />
<br />
Now that we are in our new home (pictures to come) I'm trying to stencil a wall, the only accent wall in the main space. Of course I'm too picky to just use one from hobby Lobby and I'm too cheap to order one from Etsy, so I made my own design. This one:<br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi3A7nsA_FWz-NTmpHPWeSsNewNF7_-Mns-TBTSFsBraRGVxZLK7xYLq-5jINnmVRB58V7CXrDmHzbmkZ6O8UQjtHMF_Fp3mtUeyqWgGwMRZmlDhyoFDcmmzUBx7bbCji42N8w8Evh7r7w/s1600/Screenshot+2017-02-23+18.13.11.png" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="520" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi3A7nsA_FWz-NTmpHPWeSsNewNF7_-Mns-TBTSFsBraRGVxZLK7xYLq-5jINnmVRB58V7CXrDmHzbmkZ6O8UQjtHMF_Fp3mtUeyqWgGwMRZmlDhyoFDcmmzUBx7bbCji42N8w8Evh7r7w/s640/Screenshot+2017-02-23+18.13.11.png" width="640" /></a></div>
<br />
I plan to do some of the arrows in a third color, hopefully it achieves the effect I'd like. Speaking of, buying all the paint at the local restore (habitat for humanity) kind makes that tricky.<br />
<br />
So, being the cheap gal that I am (remember no etsy?) I tried to use the plastic cover of my 2x24 silhouette mat as the stencil. Go ahead, I'm laughing too. Pretty much a novice mistake. This is what happened:<br />
<br />
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjZm9VZY5iB_A7Or5K6o6qo-Ahb7GMruf-02yXGddluAmCLiAjjGWhyTVdAvadxL1W63rheYuEE0eKZmUvfW1oY_Aniu758RYB3dtDNt6QTcXJb_IJ_8FHbIVNCOy9BmvkBJgVjWghTjCk/s1600/stencil2.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em; text-align: center;"><img border="0" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjZm9VZY5iB_A7Or5K6o6qo-Ahb7GMruf-02yXGddluAmCLiAjjGWhyTVdAvadxL1W63rheYuEE0eKZmUvfW1oY_Aniu758RYB3dtDNt6QTcXJb_IJ_8FHbIVNCOy9BmvkBJgVjWghTjCk/s400/stencil2.jpg" width="225" /></a><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj2gKGEsO1jNLWsjiJ3VFk8H6VirHsLy0yIhV0lLExaZthkPYg7KqKX-4rB99VsKwSPsL_-IimX8U_UbLKFOOWn1zMu6brBNFu4t9ByzF41UGwapy472a3RQkTUldPH2APjuRm4b4zRIYI/s1600/stencil.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em; text-align: center;"><img border="0" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj2gKGEsO1jNLWsjiJ3VFk8H6VirHsLy0yIhV0lLExaZthkPYg7KqKX-4rB99VsKwSPsL_-IimX8U_UbLKFOOWn1zMu6brBNFu4t9ByzF41UGwapy472a3RQkTUldPH2APjuRm4b4zRIYI/s400/stencil.jpg" width="225" /></a><br />
<br />
It was like trying to stencil with a plastic soda can ring. Baaaaad. So, my next idea is to make the stencil out of one of these bad boys:<br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://mobileimages.lowes.com/product/converted/045899/045899350140.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://mobileimages.lowes.com/product/converted/045899/045899350140.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
A for rent sign! It's just light weight enough that my silhouette can likely cut it and just heavy enough that it will make a thick stencil hang right.</div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
Hopefully tonight I'll have updates on this project for you. </div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
<br />Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2806425818940283182.post-62193365251743837102016-08-03T19:51:00.000-06:002021-01-24T21:41:07.073-07:00How is it to raise 5 kids, you ask?We're living with my in laws while the majority of our things are boxed up waiting to be moved into a storage unit as we build a new house! It's like a dream come true, though a hard one, because we love the people we're surrounded by here. Before I go too far, here's the funniest thing that happened today:<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjC1J4iLGNeiDiJEmIIVXVPEkEZtwM3iXHhHC2R_rVAUZ3n-2Ys73EqtTHQq0M7Xs_3MoZBWjb9O5qfwfN3GwA1c6oTGHhN3nkjHVznoGP5SZiPnPL3JCP2oTVI1eMYjeVDGcD8DGj5-o8/s1600/20160327_135542.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjC1J4iLGNeiDiJEmIIVXVPEkEZtwM3iXHhHC2R_rVAUZ3n-2Ys73EqtTHQq0M7Xs_3MoZBWjb9O5qfwfN3GwA1c6oTGHhN3nkjHVznoGP5SZiPnPL3JCP2oTVI1eMYjeVDGcD8DGj5-o8/s400/20160327_135542.jpg" width="225" /></a></div>
<br />
I surprised Budge and Limmer when I found them sneakily peeing on the back window of Dan's truck. I yelled their names and they whipped around so scared that they could barely get their trousers up in time and as he turned, Lim shot Budge in the back of the head. They were so mad. And embarrassed. Budge went into total denial mode, and Lim was so embarrassed he wouldn't come in the house for a good while. He may also have been afraid of getting in trouble. I couldn't stop laughing for way too long.<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
</div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhv31ReZ8b5jGGIMEUToMFtkCKv01aQUBpQzXXEZwkMriMP8HPKY6fuvHYv0XJOlrTsc24G-ZAtVu5YVFqJ8gN-FuuqgODeBYBZrUEPcONqrtHML3hjokNP36rue3aWs8uWHvz2gcIYRdU/s1600/20160727_160559.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="225" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhv31ReZ8b5jGGIMEUToMFtkCKv01aQUBpQzXXEZwkMriMP8HPKY6fuvHYv0XJOlrTsc24G-ZAtVu5YVFqJ8gN-FuuqgODeBYBZrUEPcONqrtHML3hjokNP36rue3aWs8uWHvz2gcIYRdU/s400/20160727_160559.jpg" width="400" /></a></div>
<br />
H has been so good lately too, but with this tinge of stubbornness in her that refuses to retreat when she thinks she's being blamed (for anything) or in trouble. From knocking the baby down (sweet James) to hitting her brother on the back right in front of me, it's not her fault. On the other hand, she's declared me her best friend and we've been jumping on the trampoline together, doing nails and (always) practicing makeup. <br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg-luZ0CuyeXaBpQhov9WvhLm8oPOfpRQYLgxWMDMd_IG41PnmFJiLm843i0a7iSy2oxIMqOoxxM92x5WFSAs2n_0Tq5ItB3akW5xnxiYvNS1w1xBP4A5WocNePS9pB90y34sxEcNKUDD0/s1600/20160803_194727.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="225" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg-luZ0CuyeXaBpQhov9WvhLm8oPOfpRQYLgxWMDMd_IG41PnmFJiLm843i0a7iSy2oxIMqOoxxM92x5WFSAs2n_0Tq5ItB3akW5xnxiYvNS1w1xBP4A5WocNePS9pB90y34sxEcNKUDD0/s400/20160803_194727.jpg" width="400" /></a></div>
<br />
She's so incredibly sweet, and also gets her heart broken easily, for example when she goes to a friend's house to find out her friend is really hosting a party for another group of girls and she's told "sorry, there's no way you can help with this party". Left out and feeling rejected for 2 hours, she still wants to play with that same little girl the next day.<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEioFZUUPWEDLr4zvwKEll9nRMdjL0kcl7vnfMV4w5EFVkbG-U6WxaeDXkdJaIpEa8cYWAVIMpZ5fuwaif8yQJ727h_OF6M7_m-uGvReV9T1ZarH5gqTxReLv3SH5Dh38MgQKH3cNhkIwFw/s1600/20160508_160617.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEioFZUUPWEDLr4zvwKEll9nRMdjL0kcl7vnfMV4w5EFVkbG-U6WxaeDXkdJaIpEa8cYWAVIMpZ5fuwaif8yQJ727h_OF6M7_m-uGvReV9T1ZarH5gqTxReLv3SH5Dh38MgQKH3cNhkIwFw/s400/20160508_160617.jpg" width="225" /></a></div>
<br />
Budge is as smart as a whip and loves making new connections. He's also really competitive, and loves anything gaming. He will do just about anything to earn time on Minecraft, or grandma's wii. I think Dan is pretty determined to not have our boys experience gaming on our console, because he grew up without gaming, and later became wrapped up in it. Never such that he couldn't stop, but he sees a pitfall there and wants to keep our boys out of it. I agree, but also think of it as inevitable that they will become gamers to a degree. And I don't want them being left out and unable to relate to their friends.<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjo_4bbE079-Y3pJCRFxM2w-Er8h-4JzUF9fGpI7IXmfNqZDZOA8tw1FwpRp8rOPCRmNbG0173Ee4JMThn83UWykjRy1sXiQFWMO0-Gs04VwZShTBs3kbrUSps_zdQXVx4spUx-hLjzi6A/s1600/20160806_165311.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="180" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjo_4bbE079-Y3pJCRFxM2w-Er8h-4JzUF9fGpI7IXmfNqZDZOA8tw1FwpRp8rOPCRmNbG0173Ee4JMThn83UWykjRy1sXiQFWMO0-Gs04VwZShTBs3kbrUSps_zdQXVx4spUx-hLjzi6A/s320/20160806_165311.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>
<br />
Limmer feels the same way. He's so in love with gaming, and will do whatever to earn it. The difference being, he'll do whatever to earn all sorts of rewards. Money, candy, gum, the ability to choose the flavor of ice cream for the family. He's really great that way, and works surprisingly hard. The boy probably is my best helper right now, and doesn't try to run away at the first mention of chores. He's doing well in school and also is super smart. He reads really well, and is gentle and sometimes withdrawn. I worry sometimes that he's too sullen, but he also has such strong bouts of pure joy (like when James learns to whip his head from side to side telling us no to his veggies) that I think he's going to be just fine.<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjxCLAyUm7vz3eSrz3j5I47YD39u-z-dcK7mMdKsoBGDCX_6e9dkcSRier09x-k9f34231Rsavc9gxFmmNTyTCNnKCVg8QOQgqFlpdGXLOOYCDCGRidnECOYLnsIBZuN01KcP9TxC2TSUE/s1600/20160524_115933.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="225" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjxCLAyUm7vz3eSrz3j5I47YD39u-z-dcK7mMdKsoBGDCX_6e9dkcSRier09x-k9f34231Rsavc9gxFmmNTyTCNnKCVg8QOQgqFlpdGXLOOYCDCGRidnECOYLnsIBZuN01KcP9TxC2TSUE/s400/20160524_115933.jpg" width="400" /></a></div>
<br />
O is a picaro if there ever was one. The boy screams at the top of his lungs in a piercing pitch just because he can. I think, though, that we've tamed the firey tongue he gets whenever he's upset. 'stupid, shut up, I hate you" have all been washed out of his mouth so many times now. He's finally getting the hang of it, though, and when he's really steamed up mad, he'll say "meanie Head" which is totally ok with me. He is super snuggly and every night wants to sleep in our bed for the warmth of snuggling mom and Dad. He's darling that way, and comes up with the funniest things to say. His little mind is always cranking away and sometimes he comes up for air just long enough to ask quesitons like: "Mom, a whale's teeth don't want to bite us, right?" So cute, and so easily impressed upon. He is our joy and some days our curse.<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj05HWpZtejm_qYZ9WQdhm5bk8KQ6iASCre2S6VOda7LFUKgJaMoKaH20LJ418s-iklgp8nUTsCV6uvRK9_qpd_xmPoZSqVhH6uyBJULYDieyCImQ4wTke8AE5ocbstpabUuCWViKMtP3s/s1600/20160413_100459.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="225" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj05HWpZtejm_qYZ9WQdhm5bk8KQ6iASCre2S6VOda7LFUKgJaMoKaH20LJ418s-iklgp8nUTsCV6uvRK9_qpd_xmPoZSqVhH6uyBJULYDieyCImQ4wTke8AE5ocbstpabUuCWViKMtP3s/s400/20160413_100459.jpg" width="400" /></a></div>
<br />
Speaking of joy, James is pure sweetness. That's the nickname I chose for him, despite its feminine associations, because the babe is just pure sweetness. He fills me up and gives all of us huge doses of happiness and satisfaction at having him in our family. The kids all want turns holding him, often. Their joy from him and their satisfaction at teaching him something new is super easy to see, and they try to ge good to him. He's walking along couches at 8 months and is trying to speak different words. He says dada but that's about it. His babble ususally includes a sth, and mamama too. Sweet observant boy.<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiJyFXeAF9RwP4gKwM6CIHZqsBP-zDp0KcPaTaAEN6LWWYrOa3ueOUwtZuhCzD_XnGjUz_3qtDslX45uCQGrsD63pJr360u-4TUWeu1ntqOQWi1XuaRyRxV5SFXkUECNdtNwTnfYWxbO84/s1600/20160721_155021.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="225" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiJyFXeAF9RwP4gKwM6CIHZqsBP-zDp0KcPaTaAEN6LWWYrOa3ueOUwtZuhCzD_XnGjUz_3qtDslX45uCQGrsD63pJr360u-4TUWeu1ntqOQWi1XuaRyRxV5SFXkUECNdtNwTnfYWxbO84/s400/20160721_155021.jpg" width="400" /></a></div>
<br />
I suppose this is it: family ups and downs at its finest. I never dreamed our family would become my every worry, every grin and every happiness. I'm so thankful for them and for the Gospel of Jesus Christ that teaches me how to do all this. And our good parents as well.<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2806425818940283182.post-30214951071828018782015-12-27T23:04:00.001-07:002021-01-24T21:41:07.087-07:00What to say when someone you love (who is Christian) is grievingI was reading an article last night on upworthy (<a href="http://www.upworthy.com/8-simple-words-to-say-when-when-someone-you-love-is-grieving">this story</a>) about 8 simple words to say when someone is grieving. At first I agreed with the article, thinking that though they are helpful later on, platitudes probably aren't appropriate for someone lost in grief. After all the expert on adversity was probably speaking for the larger population here. But as the article went on, I began to realize it had very little to offer. Especially if the grieving person is Christian and their world (and likely faith) has been<br />
<br />
8 ways to grieve with a Christian<br />
<br />
1. Mourn with them.<br />
<br />
One of the reasons that this is so powerful is because it removes you from being a spectator and puts you into the sufferer's reality. That's not fun for anyone. It hurts, but I assure you it's worse when you feel alone. Mourning as in a sincere show of shared loss. As in you can sense the profound toll that this loss will take on your loved one or friend, and you too share in their grief. Mourning in the bible is described as heaviness, weeping, lamentation and sorrow. Sometimes it lasts a long time.<br />
<br />
I worked at a bank that really emphasized knowing its customers by name. Because of that I got to know a sweet couple who often came in. After a couple of months without seeing them, the wife (an excellent person) came in looking a bit shaky. I asked how she had been and she explained that she had lost the love of her life. She was there to close their joint account, and probably hadn't realized how hard it would be. I couldn't help but well up in tears knowing what companions they were. At the time I had no idea how much that simple bit of mourning meant to her. She later thanked me and was a sweet support to me as I had my first child. I still have the blanket she made for our sweet baby girl's birth. It's amazing how a bit of compassion in the form of tears can tie us together.<br />
<br />
2. Listen to them.<br />
<br />
We often want to set all right at the first sight of a loved one's suffering. We want to take away pain, remove blame and guilt, get revenge or use our means to restore whatever is lost. That desire isn't bad, but in most cases we simply can't and reopen wounds in the process. All that is usually helpful is to quietly listen, without judgement or offering fixes. If your ideas or input are welcome, the person will usually ask. They may say 'what do I do?' or ask what you would do in their situation, but most often there is no easy solution. You can't restore their loss, so just listen, nod, sincerely say what you can observe they are feeling (ie. 'I can tell this really hurts', or ' This is such a heavy thing to to deal with' or 'Wow, this must be overwhelming right now). It's ok to not have felt it yourself, just showing that you can sense how difficult it is helps.<br />
<br />
3. Ask how you can best help. <br />
<br />
Ask "do you want me to just stop by here and there to see you?", or "Do you need time alone right now?". Offer what you can do within reason. If you truly can't be available at any time of the night or day, say that you'll do your best, but don't promise to always be there. When I was in such a bad place trying to deal with my own mortality, I couldn't function, let alone be on time to pick up my kindergartner from school every day on time. My wonderful aunt who herself had battled cancer (and understood poor health) offered to simply take and pick up my daughter every day. She did that for 2 months. <br />
<br />
4. Comfort them.<br />
<br />
My endocrinologist was trying to understand what I was sure was a severe imbalance in my adrenal levels following my pituitary surgery. He asked how I knew that it was an adrenal issue. I told him that I felt panic and intense flash of adrenaline that woke me from a dead sleep. 'How do you deal with it?' he asked. I explained that I kept ginger ale by my bedside and saltines, to combat the diabetic-like crash I felt after the adrenaline. Then he offered a simple possibility: What if what you're feeling is anxiety, and the food is comforting? My mind was blown. Here I was dealing with so many specific measurable medical issues and he was suggesting I was able to calm down because eating was comforting. Right. I couldn't believe that food could be powerful enough to overhaul my endocrine system and help me relax. But he was right. My labs came back normal, and my adrenal as well as cortisol levels were fine. Food is a powerful comforter! Bringing someone dinner is meaningful. Being on the receiving end of well prepared, considerate meals, I can assure you that food can be comforting. Bring the person food, watch a show together, sjhi cxx bb b <br />
<br />
4. Be sincere and voice your concerns about them. <br />
<br />
I have a promise with some of my most loved ones that if things ever get intense enough that suicide becomes a thought, that they will contact me to let me know, and give things 24 hours before taking any kind of action. Those promises weren't made in the sunshine with everything being good. They were conversations we had in the depths of grief, in open and honest question and answer moments.<br />
<br />Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2806425818940283182.post-76857294646585506022015-09-15T20:28:00.001-06:002021-01-24T21:41:07.098-07:002 universal truthsIn our house, there are 2 universal truths (among others)<br />
<br />
1. If there is a spill in any room of the house, I will find it and step in it.<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhQkpDzBXJGCc6k-5PA1lNBwrjIymD8k0MLGuu8nOQis2fBhQzzdvf5m6CFcD5PEcb8teSvxX2Vcn1YUT-1X7Tg2SrHeYg0bu6xZVjSr5f3r9dgQsaPw_fQk5jE8lT9p3Il79EeU_gSnaM/s1600/20150915_082105.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhQkpDzBXJGCc6k-5PA1lNBwrjIymD8k0MLGuu8nOQis2fBhQzzdvf5m6CFcD5PEcb8teSvxX2Vcn1YUT-1X7Tg2SrHeYg0bu6xZVjSr5f3r9dgQsaPw_fQk5jE8lT9p3Il79EeU_gSnaM/s320/20150915_082105.jpg" width="180" /></a></div>
<br />
2. If I have a cup of water around (which I do daily), my toddler will drink it and spill it.<br />
<br />
This makes it pretty rough to keep my temper, see, as I routinely step in a puddle of water (though we don't discriminate around here: honey, grape juice, nerds are all free game when it comes to what constitutes a 'puddle') only to realize it was my own water that I'm stepping in. *sigh.<br />
<br />
So after getting after my kids for the seemingly 80th time about cleaning up after themselves, picking up what they drop and or kick, and not touching (and unrolling yards at a time of tape) my projects, my voice was razor sharp. Seeing this, my husband invited me to relax, which was really not the right thing to say, and if my eyes didn't indicate I was furious, my avoidance of him for the next hour did. In the end, he was right. I hate swallowing my pride. Hate it. I'm still kind of getting my back up about this.<br />
<span id="goog_940037660"></span><span id="goog_940037661"></span><br />
Anyway, after all that, and looking forward to a night cleaning up after the churning mess of trash and dishes that threatens to swallow all of us daily, I was feeling pretty frustrated/emotional/hangry. I sat down to stew with my sweet new baby James (1 mo. old) and he did the most unexpected, sweet thing.<br />
<br />
I had him on my shoulder, burping him, when he picked up his wobbly head, turned to face me, and put his open mouth on my cheek slowly, almost intentionally. This was not rooting. This was the most controlled neck action I've ever seen from him. Then he put his nose on my nose, and just breathed there for a while. I was so surprised, I just kinda laughed. Then he did it again and again, like he was trying to give me kisses. Slow, wobbly approach, mouth open and eyes big just kinda kissing my cheek.<br />
<br />
It was so gentle and purposeful I cried. It felt like he was <i>thanking me.</i> Like somewhere in all that effort was a little love and gratitude for his life. Maybe for his dinner. I don't know, but the feeling was strong, and perfect for that moment.<br />
<br />
Just enough perfection to keep this old momma going for another busy night. <br />
<br />
I'm so thankful for him and the sweet miracle he is. We love having you in our family, sweet baby James.<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhalWYHAoeAr3sfXF8oX4xUOIK_drGM56ZIVL-gnN-InaMRE8BwX8wCWzWvTVZifoSXMqonkMTWvskEId2NHpANQJ_BCot9YCFnVz5u_bhbEpjbh2xwvytLVMh6rsSbWgRnw8ac8Cq-c4I/s1600/20150911_173957.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhalWYHAoeAr3sfXF8oX4xUOIK_drGM56ZIVL-gnN-InaMRE8BwX8wCWzWvTVZifoSXMqonkMTWvskEId2NHpANQJ_BCot9YCFnVz5u_bhbEpjbh2xwvytLVMh6rsSbWgRnw8ac8Cq-c4I/s320/20150911_173957.jpg" width="180" /></a></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhp7AAs4T6NsluYQaMhf6m3Vyhyphenhyphend8TWPW95zJDV7-aGlXiHpQB_PVJYkg4nfqqfOdvCi-jeJN-yTjvkTXpruASyOu4liF9E7AwMT7t0Z8BR6D5ugu9Rj9Ms2_zg8E_pSIKYcopBpNBFC0U/s1600/20150915_143015.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="180" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhp7AAs4T6NsluYQaMhf6m3Vyhyphenhyphend8TWPW95zJDV7-aGlXiHpQB_PVJYkg4nfqqfOdvCi-jeJN-yTjvkTXpruASyOu4liF9E7AwMT7t0Z8BR6D5ugu9Rj9Ms2_zg8E_pSIKYcopBpNBFC0U/s320/20150915_143015.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>
Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2806425818940283182.post-5392029596157189562015-06-21T23:40:00.002-06:002021-01-24T21:41:07.109-07:00The end of the school year is here!I haven't posted in while, partly because of my schedule, and partly because of my bad attitude, but thanks to a little love from my sis (who is far from me, so she reads this) I'm excited to post again. And boy howdy have we been deep in 'doing'. <br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgf9U88DeN0O_fLdgLXtdV1RDD-NDMGXTZagz2NxtmXbBCWhddwM0VzMB-TVShgfatULiLrVfi_H5fBXHXX0O20FuwEdgfozfbokEvW7SuTONH8P5pw_qyjJg02Q3Mb4t-D0168huFDCok/s1600/20150306_132815.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="225" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgf9U88DeN0O_fLdgLXtdV1RDD-NDMGXTZagz2NxtmXbBCWhddwM0VzMB-TVShgfatULiLrVfi_H5fBXHXX0O20FuwEdgfozfbokEvW7SuTONH8P5pw_qyjJg02Q3Mb4t-D0168huFDCok/s400/20150306_132815.jpg" width="400" /></a></div>
<br />
<br />
The school year ended for us, and I cannot believe the number of parties, celebrations, awards assemblies and to-do items that sprung up in the last weeks. I can barely turn our library books, people. This is overdrive, and I'm at the front of ship carrying 4 kiddos and a hardworking husband (who tries to be here to help as often as he can) who each have commitments. It's just like that too, stopping a whole ship at some small port to get off and get on several times a day. And pregnant ladies don't just set out on trips like that. They need a bum pillow everywhere they go. And someone to open the door so they can heft the giant 2 year old in when he wants to chase birds. <br />
<br />
<a name='more'></a><br /><br />
Literally. He chases birds everywhere, and we happened to find a dead one that he grabbed a hold of like a treasure, then asked if he could see again for 2 weeks straight thereafter. This will be funny far from now.<br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiw4-oE0JzyWy4gaaje2fKA8L32g4Y5jECJawZ8Pzgwd59qS4rjL8Hbo6SZhRfHSyKW5FloFEwxAcWU0bWvKZLBid9C3Y_tQJ0oxs671FviJsxNyUJ4Wexnm6WjM-v_F4-1xc5zS7upsBU/s1600/20150525_195314.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiw4-oE0JzyWy4gaaje2fKA8L32g4Y5jECJawZ8Pzgwd59qS4rjL8Hbo6SZhRfHSyKW5FloFEwxAcWU0bWvKZLBid9C3Y_tQJ0oxs671FviJsxNyUJ4Wexnm6WjM-v_F4-1xc5zS7upsBU/s320/20150525_195314.jpg" width="180" /></a></div>
<br />
I don't mean to complain, because I'm the one who got us into all of these things. Liam started T-ball, Hannah is in dance (her calling in life) and Aaron is in Soccer. And we added piano in there too. I want to chauffeur none of it, but love the confidence that is seeping out of my kids, and the excitement that they have for doing something new with their abilities that they didn't know they could do.<br />
<br />
Dan and I also love to serve in our Church, so we're flip flopping who has kids on which nights, and I'm so grateful for helpful and willing in-laws that don't bat an eyelid when I call last minute and ask for help for, "um...just 3 hours". And for good friends who see that you are barely keeping up, and come over to help you with laundry and dishes so you don't bust a belly muscle trying to do the loads. We are seriously blessed on every side.<br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiD2afjIP1F3JxuKHeJ0yl4pBkdWsvhGt8B-9BdAypqL7cBgcGyXAx2AzcqXLwziVKzol_wR1E2-_ICdUepKrIrEMQL_XWLetZqwhPdvfZsebCgjOWKWzYbq4ZyWt_HJCsS4D68nX_XLoE/s1600/20150522_163527.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiD2afjIP1F3JxuKHeJ0yl4pBkdWsvhGt8B-9BdAypqL7cBgcGyXAx2AzcqXLwziVKzol_wR1E2-_ICdUepKrIrEMQL_XWLetZqwhPdvfZsebCgjOWKWzYbq4ZyWt_HJCsS4D68nX_XLoE/s400/20150522_163527.jpg" width="225" /></a></div>
<br />
<br />
I've often related to the book of Mormon when it talks about Lehi's family and the hard traveling they were going through. It says that times rough, and they had to eat raw meat, but still the Lord blessed their women to become strong, even like the men and to bear their journeyings without murmuring. (1 Nep. 17:2). I'm not eating raw meat that I hunted out of the woods, and I'm not carrying on without complaining, but I have been made strong, even when I look around me and wonder if I should be going all around town like a spry young momma, I realize my stretched out body is good for it. Thank Goodness!<br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg_UzZTpMNXz3gJSWRhg_G15468TF4ClR1EI6IQL1_YC7yQ-_2p7u0ZRUxNB4p2cFpwKEM7hvs_JLnFhFqa0Vp5g1Cx79GBaPC0ZJZyZR-Yq3BG6L-w3cdPJHY7DdywhuvH7F5hRyawoKM/s1600/20150513_154744.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg_UzZTpMNXz3gJSWRhg_G15468TF4ClR1EI6IQL1_YC7yQ-_2p7u0ZRUxNB4p2cFpwKEM7hvs_JLnFhFqa0Vp5g1Cx79GBaPC0ZJZyZR-Yq3BG6L-w3cdPJHY7DdywhuvH7F5hRyawoKM/s400/20150513_154744.jpg" width="225" /></a></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
</div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
We had the best time recently, with our dear friends the B's who moved away years ago, and came to visit! It was so good to be with them again, and their *seriously* good kids (they have 5, in exactly the same gender and order that we will!). Having them as neighbors made our summers so fun, and really even the winters too. Man we love them!<br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
</div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhVv-wmdaA4pyzJWWsJdHZxltoZU8d-cbSMHnAUJyiwkp_JNC76oSJdqh-S-ab0n6QPN7hsw18Th61jSDB5WLOuhqWHZTbnz3VZTaOISEgwvgjc4S_nkjsZwSRlyW8kwn3Uek91h-ukRNw/s1600/20150513_154858.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="180" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhVv-wmdaA4pyzJWWsJdHZxltoZU8d-cbSMHnAUJyiwkp_JNC76oSJdqh-S-ab0n6QPN7hsw18Th61jSDB5WLOuhqWHZTbnz3VZTaOISEgwvgjc4S_nkjsZwSRlyW8kwn3Uek91h-ukRNw/s320/20150513_154858.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg_S9vyEsruVOf72LkNW8z0V2eFG5Pjhw18BGJ7W6aayrx8VBQJQFZvGQ5mReobU6iPfGpXgAJmcY7n20LNaClIxPVMcUIaVR6xe1FAUKWE19BWlA0AIuMQhPODq9noBTTaozDgDj14Cqw/s1600/20150513_154918.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="225" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg_S9vyEsruVOf72LkNW8z0V2eFG5Pjhw18BGJ7W6aayrx8VBQJQFZvGQ5mReobU6iPfGpXgAJmcY7n20LNaClIxPVMcUIaVR6xe1FAUKWE19BWlA0AIuMQhPODq9noBTTaozDgDj14Cqw/s400/20150513_154918.jpg" width="400" /></a></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
Lastly, a little critter and I played spook-each-other-to-death for about 2 hours last night. I simply do not like mice, and no matter how often I see the same one poke his head out from behind my couch, I can't help but freak out. Which would then send him back for cover. Finally I blocked off all the other exits, and put a sticky mouse catcher on the only way out.<br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="http://pad3.whstatic.com/images/thumb/7/71/Remove-a-Live-Mouse-from-a-Sticky-Trap-Step-1.jpg/670px-Remove-a-Live-Mouse-from-a-Sticky-Trap-Step-1.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="http://pad3.whstatic.com/images/thumb/7/71/Remove-a-Live-Mouse-from-a-Sticky-Trap-Step-1.jpg/670px-Remove-a-Live-Mouse-from-a-Sticky-Trap-Step-1.jpg" height="213" width="320" /></a></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
But when he finally got stuck, it was such a pathetic struggle that I couldn't kill him. So I waited till Dan was done working at midnight, and he did the deed. I feel bad, but we can't live with mice, people. I remember the Black Plague. Note: this photo is from wikihow, where it instructs you on how to release a mouse from a glue trap (and put it where?!). There's even an article on how to tame a wild rat if you want to. Wow. <br />
<br />
I'll try not to space out the posts here so very long. We have such good things happening and I love to connect, so thank you for popping in for a visit!<br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhzZRES3bkDqi11kidCRa5AIA49kYBLhcKgrIgEEuPPc2YCmmqdeUEe0GxAO7AoDooBPNmPlE7oMaNCkJ6OoSq4TAj6oMX16kNSz4hCPEa51hoMGNr3sE8fPf5LRjBgOLHaV4M78lYyUDM/s1600/20150424_151458.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="180" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhzZRES3bkDqi11kidCRa5AIA49kYBLhcKgrIgEEuPPc2YCmmqdeUEe0GxAO7AoDooBPNmPlE7oMaNCkJ6OoSq4TAj6oMX16kNSz4hCPEa51hoMGNr3sE8fPf5LRjBgOLHaV4M78lYyUDM/s320/20150424_151458.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>
<br />
<br />
PS, we had a rockin trip to SF, which I will tell you about. Yay for the redwoods!<br />
<br />Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2806425818940283182.post-38556625326479411502015-01-24T16:16:00.000-07:002021-01-24T21:41:07.121-07:00What it means to 'over do it'I generally know that I have the personality that LOVES to overdo events. So I should not be surprised that the holidays were for us a smorgasbord (thank you Charlotte's Web for teaching me that word) that left me (and my hubby) feeling over extended and ready to hibernate.<br />
<br />
But it was wonderful too. <br />
<br />
Want to know what we were up to?<br />
<br />
Thanksgiving was so perfect, with a family meal where we all shared the load, and the kiddos and I made cornucopias for treats at each place setting.<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
</div>
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjDBrHVS6eh-gzBsuzeRDS-xwrvjfT7IRdU8YuYL9brk8zposz85yIb9OzNwIJSCtA1bZSH_qDj96Qf_-KsF17o-s2oi10_APJkzieeO_ZFp6YgWQiZVhFRYpsDI6U3e-xWuF749_sRWuM/s1600/20141126_170911.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjDBrHVS6eh-gzBsuzeRDS-xwrvjfT7IRdU8YuYL9brk8zposz85yIb9OzNwIJSCtA1bZSH_qDj96Qf_-KsF17o-s2oi10_APJkzieeO_ZFp6YgWQiZVhFRYpsDI6U3e-xWuF749_sRWuM/s1600/20141126_170911.jpg" width="180" /></a></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
You fill the bottom of a waffle cone with water, and let it sit in the cup for about 5 seconds.</div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgDwIEAd82E-JF3qH4FZcgR1Nq7e2gcxJk6TO_yBKkBF4c3S8SH6ZjF9ZJrEDkHyXfyhcf_YiLPTf-dbbAg9-skhRQ5yF91gY5WuImhgI6IJ6Gfmwn8_OGSJ0KFFUm73cX804nQhugcq7E/s1600/20141126_171146.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgDwIEAd82E-JF3qH4FZcgR1Nq7e2gcxJk6TO_yBKkBF4c3S8SH6ZjF9ZJrEDkHyXfyhcf_YiLPTf-dbbAg9-skhRQ5yF91gY5WuImhgI6IJ6Gfmwn8_OGSJ0KFFUm73cX804nQhugcq7E/s1600/20141126_171146.jpg" width="180" /></a></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
Thank your helper for doing them fast.</div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
Then set them on a plate to microwave for 30 seconds (which makes them pliable)</div>
<a name='more'></a><br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiXjMWv9LQlBOPWD-YG8cln9K8ruQg6arhIt9oFC4qeveFRkGAetq6pNGQHWPiS9_d11NDPXE_PZUQW3b1Yz6bhuQAoQtAd1OKU4U3LLOw5e1a6WQ7QX3DeaFyKD5sVvWZ88Td40uuAZYw/s1600/20141126_171228.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiXjMWv9LQlBOPWD-YG8cln9K8ruQg6arhIt9oFC4qeveFRkGAetq6pNGQHWPiS9_d11NDPXE_PZUQW3b1Yz6bhuQAoQtAd1OKU4U3LLOw5e1a6WQ7QX3DeaFyKD5sVvWZ88Td40uuAZYw/s1600/20141126_171228.jpg" width="180" /></a></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
And finally have your 3rd helper bend the tail up so they look like a real cornucopia.</div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
Then put them on a pan and let them bake</div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEigoOk26om0P7KyoVAT2RQHN35Nx-znBE_3V_1Cu2fCCLWB9ZF6Blar2qMRIUICtsydgR4nMOwQCp0RlzbpKz2oKogMekgpyh9jYYPHXxH-27pe6fBP4sRHFWqzuFLTV0pZFqQkbexgTc0/s1600/20141126_170933.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEigoOk26om0P7KyoVAT2RQHN35Nx-znBE_3V_1Cu2fCCLWB9ZF6Blar2qMRIUICtsydgR4nMOwQCp0RlzbpKz2oKogMekgpyh9jYYPHXxH-27pe6fBP4sRHFWqzuFLTV0pZFqQkbexgTc0/s1600/20141126_170933.jpg" width="180" /></a></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
In the end we dipped the rim in chocolate and filled them with Runts candies. It was cute.</div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEieYpvmURJrQvEhLHatcgKJfmEIXhFq_Pzi47RXK5rgZSLx32GYXIGS3MBGi0eRpkXcbgRoDL1qFVfAa5HduXcOWHkj8vP2QR0YLPLwKOukvr_1O_yUnpdTeyqYyv2CJTaCDB0VrkgV3CI/s1600/20141126_160958.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="180" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEieYpvmURJrQvEhLHatcgKJfmEIXhFq_Pzi47RXK5rgZSLx32GYXIGS3MBGi0eRpkXcbgRoDL1qFVfAa5HduXcOWHkj8vP2QR0YLPLwKOukvr_1O_yUnpdTeyqYyv2CJTaCDB0VrkgV3CI/s1600/20141126_160958.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
This happened, and for the first time I was successful at baking a juicy turkey. It was like a miracle. Thank you allrecipies.</div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEih0OvVunVGyR9RPWsVNvnn0RfrXnYEvTyHh9XpMWJbT5O0V3wZX4g3Czbx3QSGYpw1Su9nR_Qit18j4YWL5fBjye1k-qPNgE7zJCYUVJMuFTxE8UL3cEzw0kI1Cka6YoglJEpQHglXGWA/s1600/20141124_185709.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEih0OvVunVGyR9RPWsVNvnn0RfrXnYEvTyHh9XpMWJbT5O0V3wZX4g3Czbx3QSGYpw1Su9nR_Qit18j4YWL5fBjye1k-qPNgE7zJCYUVJMuFTxE8UL3cEzw0kI1Cka6YoglJEpQHglXGWA/s1600/20141124_185709.jpg" width="180" /></a></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
We went to a celebration with cousins where their neighbors had a lighting ceremony and open house. It's pretty serious. We also got to celebrate our grandpa's birthday!</div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjQAM8fMUAlUrr70IM9pKfQJ-RG52yixhgXNNrsvw7GH-kzpnmsyc9c-ligeF5d3NjXo0ovrjuyqjGsFX_ppv1EyOnGElMyUrlmxN-ShjGExdhnCMNtxzSCXqOCGlxPsyV97Wy9Wabil74/s1600/20141130_173327.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="180" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjQAM8fMUAlUrr70IM9pKfQJ-RG52yixhgXNNrsvw7GH-kzpnmsyc9c-ligeF5d3NjXo0ovrjuyqjGsFX_ppv1EyOnGElMyUrlmxN-ShjGExdhnCMNtxzSCXqOCGlxPsyV97Wy9Wabil74/s1600/20141130_173327.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
Next came setting up the Christmas tree, and the tradition we have of all the kids getting under it to look up at the lights. Our tree looks smaller and smaller with these kids growing up!</div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhsW6LhiruFZfCf7QO44oC4SCGSRt641pO3D4O_jtTORC5plFs4KoncI1wLJ9Fkr61EY0Q3_cu7-ooKZOvS0VXZ5z_DvhwYtiavxdNxN0h9jff75KrdrZlFURXmFsbKnFgyVFUZJChyoNE/s1600/20141205_183953.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="180" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhsW6LhiruFZfCf7QO44oC4SCGSRt641pO3D4O_jtTORC5plFs4KoncI1wLJ9Fkr61EY0Q3_cu7-ooKZOvS0VXZ5z_DvhwYtiavxdNxN0h9jff75KrdrZlFURXmFsbKnFgyVFUZJChyoNE/s1600/20141205_183953.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
Then decorating gingerbread houses early in December. We had a competition between the boys and I and Hannah with Dad. It was surprisingly fun and creative!</div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiFYiLDvxO53TbOSrI6eeVxLIZclf8NlXzn5kinAJLscBGcbB7kIqKa7GLHPuWqdjFS3LT50nocsBX0bMIosL2NYA_GAdXXGm9t44WvkM69lo4PD-EyXAf7dTpZzLbWq6W3CTy230MF6h4/s1600/20141205_184001.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="180" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiFYiLDvxO53TbOSrI6eeVxLIZclf8NlXzn5kinAJLscBGcbB7kIqKa7GLHPuWqdjFS3LT50nocsBX0bMIosL2NYA_GAdXXGm9t44WvkM69lo4PD-EyXAf7dTpZzLbWq6W3CTy230MF6h4/s1600/20141205_184001.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
This is the boys and my work. Basically it was a trick of keeping the thing standing as we weighted it down.</div>
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjcGfccUVemXM63g0lpE7XoAUnA6X5YnR3xLQuH7Lr5HnKOVdHyqevLZYLk21FVCnHSKXp6D7OT9L4YtRdf2riuoOsf-bTCYmKzaiPYR8hJNFRth_ZJsX0FSTviay7uEQdur_2yZLnImNs/s1600/20141205_190658.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="180" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjcGfccUVemXM63g0lpE7XoAUnA6X5YnR3xLQuH7Lr5HnKOVdHyqevLZYLk21FVCnHSKXp6D7OT9L4YtRdf2riuoOsf-bTCYmKzaiPYR8hJNFRth_ZJsX0FSTviay7uEQdur_2yZLnImNs/s1600/20141205_190658.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
This is Hannah and Dan's. It was brilliant, and reinforced from the inside. Of course.</div>
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh3z1SBxsmJnrdEMJWI5t-WTDQvkcWajc4Zvlq163dSRbZCweM3Qzik8fzYzfMmeUKHmu47NBgGe0_LO_8JuWMM3C2sKirVoUpbqii3Yqu8Q4l6Plx2Ufp_1hZ_deKXyU1GAXAS0teTbXc/s1600/20141205_185200.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="180" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh3z1SBxsmJnrdEMJWI5t-WTDQvkcWajc4Zvlq163dSRbZCweM3Qzik8fzYzfMmeUKHmu47NBgGe0_LO_8JuWMM3C2sKirVoUpbqii3Yqu8Q4l6Plx2Ufp_1hZ_deKXyU1GAXAS0teTbXc/s1600/20141205_185200.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
The kids couldn't have been more pleased, and the whole thing was eaten within 3 days.</div>
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhclSeWVu5WXLTFc0jnhQGopYTZ0UsOulA1CtmZnfa8E6HcUkh_EJTwR-ouxuDqpxlJtST5qlZaFgO_hch9gCwjkfzbdIfmN3MUlFRRNVhP8rjDjwjbl6EYUtndmGEKqGahCinIPtydRUw/s1600/20141205_184025.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhclSeWVu5WXLTFc0jnhQGopYTZ0UsOulA1CtmZnfa8E6HcUkh_EJTwR-ouxuDqpxlJtST5qlZaFgO_hch9gCwjkfzbdIfmN3MUlFRRNVhP8rjDjwjbl6EYUtndmGEKqGahCinIPtydRUw/s1600/20141205_184025.jpg" width="180" /></a></div>
<div class="" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
I think they won the contest, but they took like 45 minutes longer, too. So we win for speed. ;)</div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEggJ_G_xAsaOIB3ercJAii5d9IK3GxCsEhwQ8-pvMSc-V3v_gClqu4E7nBUWr6qTC7qteM415J_5KQsZKJHnmWf7VMPfLkbu33c1SAZxn0DIh9bTnZ6j5HBtFts8ceJwxC7w407hH791kc/s1600/20141219_095004.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="180" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEggJ_G_xAsaOIB3ercJAii5d9IK3GxCsEhwQ8-pvMSc-V3v_gClqu4E7nBUWr6qTC7qteM415J_5KQsZKJHnmWf7VMPfLkbu33c1SAZxn0DIh9bTnZ6j5HBtFts8ceJwxC7w407hH791kc/s1600/20141219_095004.jpg" width="320" /></a><br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
Then the school plays came along, and the sing along. Our kids were darling, if I do say so myself. So were their classmates!</div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEibwrejj2qudQyhsSwc4TR3HbYoZgf-nGnOYDQMprTTuUci5QVlp8gQt2-keHdI_H1NleKBmijeWFMoxZuxn3uOubquOqnQMb5_Xp8tRKY-w623VORzDHx_eYy_IX0DZRAp9kIHMwFZP9Y/s1600/20141213_183655.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="180" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEibwrejj2qudQyhsSwc4TR3HbYoZgf-nGnOYDQMprTTuUci5QVlp8gQt2-keHdI_H1NleKBmijeWFMoxZuxn3uOubquOqnQMb5_Xp8tRKY-w623VORzDHx_eYy_IX0DZRAp9kIHMwFZP9Y/s1600/20141213_183655.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
Then came this party, at my moms. My sweet sis is in the middle of ratting out her husbands most embarrassing quirks. It was pretty good. We laughed hard.</div>
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgK5-7lch-HXdvaFXFUrlRid6AHJQKx4NpxeJofUtO_Qdfn9k8Vx4vyST94heYXd_q3H97vi-9tLNuB1NzVoJV5rXgHcVy4WIAa5r5Lo87idH43cIGVpoXpYa_f4pTTApyZvueL2KbPvcE/s1600/20141213_183944.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="180" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgK5-7lch-HXdvaFXFUrlRid6AHJQKx4NpxeJofUtO_Qdfn9k8Vx4vyST94heYXd_q3H97vi-9tLNuB1NzVoJV5rXgHcVy4WIAa5r5Lo87idH43cIGVpoXpYa_f4pTTApyZvueL2KbPvcE/s1600/20141213_183944.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
My sweetheart, who is still recovering from his surgery 2 weeks earlier. He's such a good sport.</div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjQIeQMC5RrLyb_YQMFRSHMvvPLliZdLo3Lbch_H0th5VOGdNy9deBVwXE-HvST7gmlibKoKNfKD64aifRcfZFq39l5fnmXrZcKJl7VVANTIl77TfPaklxZAdz_uVgy_dMUq_2lj06gy6Q/s1600/20141221_200503.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="180" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjQIeQMC5RrLyb_YQMFRSHMvvPLliZdLo3Lbch_H0th5VOGdNy9deBVwXE-HvST7gmlibKoKNfKD64aifRcfZFq39l5fnmXrZcKJl7VVANTIl77TfPaklxZAdz_uVgy_dMUq_2lj06gy6Q/s1600/20141221_200503.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
Then came this fun party, which was really great, but involved traveling without my honey (which was really undesirable) because he couldn't travel for 5 hours in the car. Poor guy. I feel so sheepish for abandoning him for the 4 days. </div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
There were also 2 other Christmas parties scrambled in the mix of things, and a very cute, new to us Christmas Elf named Chris Happy that visited daily. </div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
You can imagine my stress is coming to a head. Sick. Sorry about the imagery.</div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
Then we had Christmas, which was glorious and full of family and wonderful. But the day before we also found out about this:</div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgyVXF9jEZ6FN4JCtmseKEkaNPsZhbd9MG7GaJi3tTEFmqhvapg-1NoU1vtToyzDaSR8MCJR_CgjlQIOOdHMzPm6QBm77dmqFUscjTf5qqE_shJm7t6lgdnTXi5tPcTp-_nJZbTBgZgAjE/s1600/20150106_154126.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgyVXF9jEZ6FN4JCtmseKEkaNPsZhbd9MG7GaJi3tTEFmqhvapg-1NoU1vtToyzDaSR8MCJR_CgjlQIOOdHMzPm6QBm77dmqFUscjTf5qqE_shJm7t6lgdnTXi5tPcTp-_nJZbTBgZgAjE/s1600/20150106_154126.jpg" width="180" /></a></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
Though it says it belongs to Aagaro and Melendez, it actually ours. And here we go. We're both very happy about having another babe, we meant to. But somehow between the combination of the holiday stress and the morning sickness, and the anticipation of becoming a mom of 5 I sprung a gasket. Its been going for a while as I slowly come back to my faith and hopeful thoughts about holding that sweet babe in my arms, so I don't even want to go into detail, but I've been especially grateful to my wonderful family and in-laws who have helped me daily. I'm also really grateful for Anxiety medicine and exercise. Especially for my Hubbin. He's so incredible and patient and he's never complained it's too much.</div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
So I've learned my lesson about holiday partying, and I'm super thankful for how it's all rounding out.</div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
</div>
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
</div>
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
</div>
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
</div>
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
</div>
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
</div>
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
</div>
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
</div>
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
</div>
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
</div>
Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2806425818940283182.post-66420409411099264332014-12-01T13:59:00.000-07:002021-01-24T21:41:07.134-07:00What you talkin 'bout, Phyllis?My husband's nickname is Phyllis. It came from my inability to get the saying right from Webster, the 90s tv show. Instead of saying 'what you talkin bout, Willis?', it came out Phyllis, and was so funny that it just stuck. He's a good sport.<br />
<br />
He's a good sport too about his recent back surgery. But today is day 2 post-op, and it IS NOT a good day.<br />
<br />
Poor Dan has burney shooting pain down his leg and numbness as well. The nurses told us that today is supposed to be the worst day, until day 5 when it will ease up a little. Oh man.<br />
<br />
But we've had some really great experiences along the way. Being in the hospital for the 2 days we stayed was actually a really great bonding time. Since kids weren't allowed to visit, it was just Dan and I. We played quiz up and most of the time had the TV off, and just talked. It was like we were dating again. Soo cool. The nurses showed me how to unhook him to help him go to the bathroom, and were so good to answer my every question (it's not enough for me to know that poor lung expansion causes a fever - I need to know why). We had such great care.<br />
<br />
We met a couple who were there visiting people from the church, letting us know about meeting times and offering help if needed, and they were so great. As it turns out I went to school with their daughter, and we both served missions in Argentina. It was so great to meet them, and we asked them to give Dan a blessing (something that any worthy priesthood holder in my faith can give). It was comforting and powerful, and even given direction that as we serve each other our marriage would be strengthened. It changed my perspective about taking care of my invalid husband. It makes me eager to serve him, knowing that it will have long lasting benefits for our marriage. And I think it was completely true in the case of my brain surgery. I have never known appreciation and love like I did when he took such unselfish care of me both in the hospital and during my healing. That made a place in me I never knew could exist. Every time I try to explain how much it changed me to have him serve me like that I just cry. Those feelings are too tangled into the deeper parts of my heart to sort out. I just love him so much more for it, and I'm happy to serve him as well as I possibly can.<br />
<br />
Which brings me to a stickier topic. Taking care of my sweet hubbin while also taking care of our kids. So far, my in laws (amazing people that they are) have taken the kids during our hospital stay and then again today so we can have a quiet house. I've only had our 2 year old, and honestly with just him it feels like I've had another baby. He throws fits when he doesn't have the attention he's used to and I'm just not willing to stop and love on him until I can help his dad where I need to. <br />
<br />
My good friend (who brought us 3, yes THREE meals yesterday) said that it was the most stressful time of her life to take care of her operated upon husband and her kiddos. What kind of mom has the time to make 3 meals for a sick friend? She's amazing.<br />
<br />
But we have great support and friends and family who are so quick to help us (including a wonderful friend who came last night on very short notice to cover for the late hospital release and extra HOUR of driving around we did to find a pharmacy that was stocked with narcotics! Thank you, FDA for moving narcotics to the next level of security.<br />
<br />
I hope you and yours had a wonderful Thanksgiving. Ours was amazing and my weepy self was so content that day to look around our dinner table with so many of my loved ones there. That's all that really matters in the end. We are truly so rich!<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2806425818940283182.post-49693726925479226722014-11-17T23:08:00.001-07:002021-01-24T21:41:07.146-07:00Best stocking stuffers under $5I believe some of the cheapest (or maybe most frugal?) people live in Utah. I love Utah, and I claim it as my own, but really, I'm very accustomed to people (even myself *yikes) saying "Oh I could totally make that", about something that is already decently priced. So, we're cheap. And talented to make stuff at home.<br />
<br />
Because of that cheapness, when it comes to stocking stuffers (while most people think size) I think dollar signs. I want it to be like dollar store cheap to get into a stocking. So, for all my like-minded friends, here is a glorious list to keep you under budget this Christmas<br />
<br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="http://ecx.images-amazon.com/images/I/61KEIS7TxCL._SL1000_.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="http://ecx.images-amazon.com/images/I/61KEIS7TxCL._SL1000_.jpg" height="257" width="320" /></a></div>
<br />
<div style="text-align: center;">
<a href="http://www.amazon.com/Animal-Finger-Puppet-Elephant-Rabbit/dp/B0041GUCDO/ref=sr_1_4?ie=UTF8&qid=1416285445&sr=8-4&keywords=finger+puppets">Finger Puppets</a> - 3.00 shipped</div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
There are even cheaper versions of these. Just follow the link and related searches will give you options down to a dollar! At the least these are brilliant for keeping kids quite in church. But be careful, they come by slow boat from China. I'd order 2-3 weeks ahead of time.</div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="http://ecx.images-amazon.com/images/I/51d6iecl5QL.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="http://ecx.images-amazon.com/images/I/51d6iecl5QL.jpg" height="320" width="198" /></a></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
Adult <a href="http://www.amazon.com/Womens-Geneva-Chevron-Style-Leather/dp/B00EIRVQ2M/ref=sr_1_2?ie=UTF8&qid=1416285685&sr=8-2&keywords=geneva+watches+for+women">Watches</a> - 3.58 shipped<br />
<a name='more'></a></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
So cheap! And they may fall apart, I'm not sure, but I know that these silicone ones are good:</div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="http://ecx.images-amazon.com/images/I/713kIBBBa4L._UY679_.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="http://ecx.images-amazon.com/images/I/713kIBBBa4L._UY679_.jpg" height="320" width="198" /></a></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<a href="http://www.amazon.com/Ceramic-Style-Silicone-Crystal-Womens/dp/B004880XWK/ref=pd_sbs_watch_6?ie=UTF8&refRID=1KB2838Y76MW5J3PPF5D">Silicone Watches - 4.88 shipped</a></div>
<br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="http://ecx.images-amazon.com/images/I/318s-5ydO%2BL._SY450_.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="http://ecx.images-amazon.com/images/I/318s-5ydO%2BL._SY450_.jpg" height="320" width="160" /></a></div>
<br />
<br />
<div style="text-align: center;">
<a href="http://www.amazon.com/Scalp-Massager-colors-may-vary/dp/B003YZ3BTU/ref=sr_1_2?ie=UTF8&qid=1416286521&sr=8-2&keywords=head+scratcher">Head Massager</a> - 1.95 shipped</div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
This could be a very funny white elephant gift too, if you put the right note with it, but as for receiving one, they are WONDERFUL! They feel so good, just don't massage your head in public. That's kinda weird.</div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
I just have to mention that this would be the perfect companion to that gift for a white elephant. I think we may just have to put together the perfect old person gift set.</div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="http://ecx.images-amazon.com/images/I/6190gFhxrLL._SL1500_.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="http://ecx.images-amazon.com/images/I/6190gFhxrLL._SL1500_.jpg" height="144" width="320" /></a></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<a href="http://www.amazon.com/Rollers-Finger-Massager-Handheld-Circulation/dp/B00ADIOQ4A/ref=pd_sim_hpc_5?ie=UTF8&refRID=155SH06RQWX5MMGF1BWG">Knuckle Massager</a> - 1.85 shipped</div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
I know that some unfortunate soul out there was told to buy one of these by their orthopedist. Oh, but it's funny! I just hope the packaging has that picture on it, and a good set of instructions.</div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="http://ecx.images-amazon.com/images/I/315FXvWUS2L._SX425_.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="http://ecx.images-amazon.com/images/I/315FXvWUS2L._SX425_.jpg" height="320" width="320" /></a></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<a href="http://www.amazon.com/BIRUGEAR-Universal-Stereo-Headset-Earbuds/dp/B002P61U1U/ref=pd_sim_sbs_e_3?ie=UTF8&refRID=1SPNKJWZD35YADPAABYN">Ear Buds - 3.89 Shipped</a></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
Ok this is more of a gift you'd give a kid (because if they mess them up it's ok). I've bought several pair of really cheap ear buds, and the only thing that seems to make them different from my more expensive pair is that we take care of the more expensive ones.</div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="http://ecx.images-amazon.com/images/I/41tTdYFPSCL.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="http://ecx.images-amazon.com/images/I/41tTdYFPSCL.jpg" height="277" width="320" /></a></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<a href="http://www.amazon.com/Cellphone-PLAYSTATION-Motorola-BlackBerry-AMM0101US/dp/B005AOKW8Q/ref=sr_1_1?s=wireless&ie=UTF8&qid=1416288536&sr=1-1&pebp=1416288545348">Stylus'</a> for ipads and phones - 1.25 Shipped</div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
My hubby bought some of these for me as an addition to a new tech gift he gave me, and they work wonderfully! It's a 5 pack, which is great, because all of our kids want to draw on the ipad with them, and now they can all have their own to use during quiet time. It's good to stuff in the old stocking for a teenager too.</div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="http://a.tgcdn.net/images/products/zoom/e8f1_disease_stress_balls.gif" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="http://a.tgcdn.net/images/products/zoom/e8f1_disease_stress_balls.gif" height="320" width="229" /></a></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<a href="http://www.thinkgeek.com/product/e8f1/">Infectious Disease toy</a> - 2.99</div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
Only Thinkgeek would give it a name like that. Regardless, it's an awesome gift for a kid. Particularly a boy. These are excellent, and if you wait for think Geek's free shipping sales, they're only 2.99!</div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="http://a.tgcdn.net/images/products/zoom/9e29_exothermic_crystallization_reusable_hand_warmers.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="http://a.tgcdn.net/images/products/zoom/9e29_exothermic_crystallization_reusable_hand_warmers.jpg" height="221" width="320" /></a></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<a href="http://www.thinkgeek.com/product/9e29/">Reusable hand warmer - 3.99</a></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
While you're at Thinkgeek.com, check these hand warmers out! We actually bought these on a sale, and got several packs for 4.99 (they do these sales near Christmas time so watch out for them!). They are so cool! Because it is a chemical reaction, you can come home from your campout, toss the used warmers into a boiling pot of water for 5 minutes, and they return to their liquid state, making the warming possible all over again!</div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
More items will join this list soon, but as for now, I hope some of your stockings are stuffed with more than just candy! Thanks for reading, and remember to read the reviews (especially on the head massager) as they are really quite hilarious.</div>
Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2806425818940283182.post-85407191892879962872014-11-16T14:34:00.001-07:002021-01-24T21:41:07.161-07:00Earlier I would have called today a frustrating day.<br />
<br />
We sat down to breakfast to look out our window and see a police vehicle pull up at our neighbor's house. The officer ran out of his car, jumped their fence and darted into the house. My heart cramped up as the grandson of our neighbors (who lives with them) bolted from the next door down, (where he was probably trying to get help from the ER nurse who lives there) ran back to his own home, barefoot in the snow, pale faced, also jumping their fence and darting into the house. Soon, an ambulance, firetruck, and another police officer pulled up as well. I told my kids to go wake up Daddy, and not to follow me. Outside, I stood with a small group of neighbors, and we watched. We were agonizing over the fact that the man in trouble in the house has a wonderful wife who has tried to keep him going through poor health, and was then at work. Soon she careened into view and briskly walked into the house, upset and covering her mouth. "We're here for you!" yelled my friend, as they made eye contact, hoping to offer any help in her distress. Later I found out her husband had died that morning, and was found by her grandson just before the officers arrived.<br />
<br />
My heart has been hurting for her all day. We've watched family members come, and other neighbors too, who love them, trying to offer some support. <br />
<br />
They are one of the minority families who live in Utah who aren't LDS, and though I don't have any desire to make religion a point right now, especially when I want to respect her beliefs as a Jehovah's Witness, I hope she feels comfort in the shared belief we have in an afterlife. I hope she isn't feeling the deep sting death can leave us with, where we feel absolutely alone and sometimes disconnected from one we've lost.<br />
<br />
My day has been filled with thoughts and prayers for her, and her family.<br />
<br />
My kids actually were really sweet to see the gravity of what was happening, and after dinner, sweet A wrote a little letter to her. It was darling, and yet disturbing, and I should've taken a pic. of it to put here. It said "I'm so sorry your husband died" and showed her crying with hands on eyes, and her husband dead with x's for eyes. He put a huge sad toothy face (scary looking) above her head, and when I asked him what it was, he said it was how she was feeling. We won't give her that letter, but I bet he can draw her another one that has a picture of happier times with the same message. Maybe I shouldn't censor my kids. They're so clear and so honest and sometimes that's the best thing for grief. I have no idea.<br />
<br />
After that, we began our morning chores (even feeling guilty that my day would carry on like usual while our neighbors 2 doors down are changed forever) and our little family did a wonderful job. At the suggestion of the school counselor, we have changed up the way we do chores, so that when we ask the kids to do 3 chores on a Sat, they get to watch a 20 min. show or play games on my phone for 15 minutes between them as a reward. Essentially it just breaks up the chores into smaller increments, and rewards the kiddos more frequently so the kids aren't overwhelmed, and we still end up with accomplishing what we aimed for. It worked so well. <br />
<br />
You may have caught that I got that tidbit from a school counselor. I went to see her on Friday to ask for her opinion and suggestions of how to help our boy, A. He's been really struggling to obey (which sounds like he's trying and failing. Really it's more like he's not interested in obeying) and having all sorts of violent outbursts. From 0 to 60 in 1 second kinda outbursts. We've tried everything we can think of and can read up on to help him. It's been going on since, well, maybe all year. When you're in it daily, you never really see it as an event that 'began'. <br />
<br />
We've spent time with him in his classroom (a great deal, in fact) making sure he obeys and respects the rules. We've counseled with his teachers and the principal. We've researched oppositional defiant disorder, we've checked into ADD and ADHD, we've changed parenting tactics, and tried motivators and incentives galore. We've tried harshness, and kindness, extra affection, and demands. We've let him make his own consequences, and asked the other kids to give him extra allowance. We've been military-esqe in our consistency, and tried being lax and extra forgiving. We've prayed our guts out, and tried with all we can to follow the spirit, and yet we feel like things are just as unpredictable: with an angry boy, exasperated parents, tentative siblings.<br />
<br />
This last time of having the school contact us, letting us know that he angrily hurt a classmate (again) and scared a few other kids was kind of the last emotional straw. So without wanting to go into too much detail, we're seeking help for him. It's so emotionally strenuous. Just please pray for our little boy, and for us.<br />
<br />
At the end of the day, I realize that though things are emotionally raw right now, I still have the most wonderful life. My husband deeply loves me. That in and of itself is rare. I have kids that adore me (so much that the 20 min kid-fit video that they checked out from the library wouldn't be fun without me). We have work to do and a job that pays for our heater to crank on all night long. My troop is healthy, and we all have faith in God and want to do right. And though he really struggles, A wants that too.<br />
<br />
SO even if the boys continue to remove the cushions from the couch at every waking moment so as to bounce wildly from the hide-a-bed below onto the recliners at the other side of the room, I can enjoy them. I can enjoy them despite breaking the furniture, picking the veggies off their pizza, and constantly babbling, tapping and whistling even during prayers and conversations. I can deal with the tattling and the continual wandering into our bed at 2 AM. I can even learn to manage myself when I feel like I need to bust up land and creation to get them to hear what I'm saying.<br />
<br />That is the life of a parent, and I'm sure that God put some sort of strength-reserve inside me for just such occasions. I think it even gets deeper when I choose patience over freaking out at them. Sheesh I just want to do this right. And there is a right way; it's the opposite way that all the messed up emotionally scarred kids are raised. Whatever that is.<br />
<br />
One thing that helps me put this parenting thing into perspective is that our kids are just like us in this whole eternal plan. I have weakness and failings as all adults have, but kids, though they be innocent until old enough, are learning too how to manage their weak bodies and curb impulses that come so naturally. They know and I know they shouldn't do wrong, but knowing is not enough. Experiencing the temptation to do what they shouldn't and choosing (good or bad) is what they need to grow. I guess I never thought that I am just the same. In God's eyes, I struggle just as frustratingly often to do what's right. Kids are no more prepared to deal with the strength of the impulse than I am. In fact it's worse for them. They haven't had years of trial and errror to help sway them to choose the thing that is best. That may be common knowledge, but I've never really <i>gotten</i> it until now. It helps me feel more merciful toward them.Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2806425818940283182.post-16537654371782555072014-11-15T13:52:00.001-07:002021-01-24T21:41:07.172-07:00Hilarious note about UT licence platesLast night Dan and I were driving home with a car full of kiddos. Ahead of us I noticed a Utah licence plate that I've never seen. <br />
<br />
"What's that on that licence plate?" I asked. "A geisha and a bear?!"<br />
<br />
"I'm pretty sure that's the huamane treatment for pets plate, babe."<br />
<br />
It looked like this:<br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="http://photos.petfinder.com/photos/US/UT/UT81/11196416/UT81.11196416-1-x.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="http://photos.petfinder.com/photos/US/UT/UT81/11196416/UT81.11196416-1-x.jpg" /></a></div>
<br />
Imagine it from like 15 feet away and in the evening.<br />
<br />
I don't know why the ASPCA wants to put a geisha on there. Heehee.<br />
<br />
I hope you're getting ready for Thanksgiving! Yay for fall and the holidays!Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2806425818940283182.post-55047638728737224062014-11-01T23:27:00.001-06:002021-01-24T21:41:07.186-07:00Helping kids to tell timeTime is a complete anomaly for most kids under the age of 7. I think that you could say 'Ok, I'll be back in 10 minutes to check if your room is clean' as well as you could say 'I'll be back in 24 hours to check on you' and to them it would be the same.<br />
<br />
So, to help my kids to tell time, I came up with this little beauty.<br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhDSNjBsE4t00qnzCSrwHMtTELVpOjjEDvN-VjqViC0wt14__6ea1rTh9F9rNsazlM8Nzlj5u7KgWHQur-h2ThpydfIXVghyphenhyphenNSBD3nglKRH5zkx_C5kREoZGJ3KkHXea7q-pORo7bQGH1o/s1600/01fcf45ec574ec69859cf4ea675652bb69e5076784_00001.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhDSNjBsE4t00qnzCSrwHMtTELVpOjjEDvN-VjqViC0wt14__6ea1rTh9F9rNsazlM8Nzlj5u7KgWHQur-h2ThpydfIXVghyphenhyphenNSBD3nglKRH5zkx_C5kREoZGJ3KkHXea7q-pORo7bQGH1o/s1600/01fcf45ec574ec69859cf4ea675652bb69e5076784_00001.jpg" height="640" width="478" /></a></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
It's not the most complicated thing. I point to the time when we have to go to school each morning and there are their shining faces indicating that when the short hand points to the orange arrow, it's time. </div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
It's helpful, if not at least original. Please excuse the mondo face of my sweet baby. He's sleeping and so sweet, but it can startle you if you don't know what's happening.</div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
I hope this helps your tots to understand the concept of time better!</div>
<br />Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2806425818940283182.post-22005300921355390172014-10-19T23:45:00.001-06:002021-01-24T21:41:07.197-07:00Halloween decor and Fall Fun<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
Who can resist the Fall when there are field trips to go on, pumpkins to carve, harvests to gather and apple crisp to eat? Yay fall is here! </div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
I have volunteered to chaperon for this field trip with each of my kids, very selfishly too. I love the delight that the kids experience as they go through a corn maze, and the games that they enjoy at the end. The pumpkin picking is so exciting for them, and they could care less that they are hungry or tired when they see all the fun themed playground toys. There is even a kid-zoo spot, where farm animals live. I'd pretty much elbow out other moms to get to the sign up sheet for this field trip.</div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
This is L loving on his pumpin and Chester (the preschool pet stow away that comes on certain field trips. Who knew raccoons are so docile?)</div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh-sSc5YcaYI6cuyaWh_3rGP1fF3_RPcjXCLN4ZJxIed93GGOaV1XiBnGOcb0qNoj57yCVkHMuv3T6EqwcEB0rNxNGIqbWLr2o0OMYJIEPqQnwhg1olBSFs8IQEFgmL1yJJIM8vDg0MZj4/s1600/Oct.+upload+10-15-2014+1-36-49+PM.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh-sSc5YcaYI6cuyaWh_3rGP1fF3_RPcjXCLN4ZJxIed93GGOaV1XiBnGOcb0qNoj57yCVkHMuv3T6EqwcEB0rNxNGIqbWLr2o0OMYJIEPqQnwhg1olBSFs8IQEFgmL1yJJIM8vDg0MZj4/s1600/Oct.+upload+10-15-2014+1-36-49+PM.JPG" width="222" /></a></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
This is notable, because it's difficult for L to feel like he even wants to do some of this stuff. He usually holds back until everyone is done with the activity until he wants to join. He is so handsome when he smiles! Good job, buddy!</div>
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjC5RbniAfbFHTk2GCbBD9MFNBu8NXJbHjr915QBnuWlamGvBDvuNXzzKbr7aqv_EK4FBe0QBKqzdzh8d0_KPEVe68V2l3BiivQerLIiuQsDYM8DoQ0vwUbHeJjYQJrmYJ-lasdSYYr7us/s1600/Oct.+upload+10-15-2014+12-31-24+PM.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjC5RbniAfbFHTk2GCbBD9MFNBu8NXJbHjr915QBnuWlamGvBDvuNXzzKbr7aqv_EK4FBe0QBKqzdzh8d0_KPEVe68V2l3BiivQerLIiuQsDYM8DoQ0vwUbHeJjYQJrmYJ-lasdSYYr7us/s1600/Oct.+upload+10-15-2014+12-31-24+PM.JPG" width="298" /></a></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
Amazing play-land and spooky tunnels to crawl through.</div>
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgU3IelYrAaxE7qxiCN-VFwU6Wem15VR-3OpxL-fm7Y1fnd_4S1RNg-5bB8d_NWZ4UeAGGYSdCz_bST0wOhqA1Ka4e1P26LAQsGo5DtDrzQ1ErEdGnDPCGbOAcsKnsySIsbMovUIZR0hqM/s1600/Oct.+upload+10-15-2014+12-48-16+PM.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgU3IelYrAaxE7qxiCN-VFwU6Wem15VR-3OpxL-fm7Y1fnd_4S1RNg-5bB8d_NWZ4UeAGGYSdCz_bST0wOhqA1Ka4e1P26LAQsGo5DtDrzQ1ErEdGnDPCGbOAcsKnsySIsbMovUIZR0hqM/s1600/Oct.+upload+10-15-2014+12-48-16+PM.JPG" width="298" /></a></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
I love this musty smelling pumpkin. It's right next to the animal habitat, and I'm pretty sure that goat stink is on that baby for life. But the kids don't care at all.</div>
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh89Nf8wO-kZvrFytfc_NbwPXQwmDjr1fLYkwOEvbI8AidaALP6a9orls_CszDqo-x8eEX2v76-9eG9Wz5JkLl87FLsIppgnSeaJKIDwUbkwDrsNjGH7tWyA26JEJ9JeBTftpbUfAVXGRM/s1600/Oct.+upload+10-15-2014+12-49-15+PM.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh89Nf8wO-kZvrFytfc_NbwPXQwmDjr1fLYkwOEvbI8AidaALP6a9orls_CszDqo-x8eEX2v76-9eG9Wz5JkLl87FLsIppgnSeaJKIDwUbkwDrsNjGH7tWyA26JEJ9JeBTftpbUfAVXGRM/s1600/Oct.+upload+10-15-2014+12-49-15+PM.JPG" width="315" /></a></div>
<br />
<a name='more'></a><br /><br />
<br />
<div style="text-align: center;">
A, who didn't get to go on a field trip that day was super sweet to read to his baby bro. Inviting him into his fort no less. Sweet sweet boys melt my heart.</div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi4jmBElGeNJgmdRXn6ucFSRiWOIOPh7F9tOXVaiK9Mf3FMv_c2j8gR_ftSfBOlJwHHXnxsHBywNMY4XSo_Ae67fby90lNoPsU3HMpXBBg7Ot4-uBzpQpa8Gn8nFB9eLZHXxTZ_s1yg0MQ/s1600/Oct.+upload+10-17-2014+1-02-08+PM.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="283" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi4jmBElGeNJgmdRXn6ucFSRiWOIOPh7F9tOXVaiK9Mf3FMv_c2j8gR_ftSfBOlJwHHXnxsHBywNMY4XSo_Ae67fby90lNoPsU3HMpXBBg7Ot4-uBzpQpa8Gn8nFB9eLZHXxTZ_s1yg0MQ/s1600/Oct.+upload+10-17-2014+1-02-08+PM.JPG" width="400" /></a></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
We LOVE Halloween at our house. It's pure and simple spooky fun. None of this disturbing or scary celebration stuff (I'll leave that to the teenagers and my bro-in-law). Just plain kid-creation, costume wearing, monster loving joy here.</div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
Of all the places that need decorating, our family room mantle is essential. The kids LOVE the fake spider webs and the pretend fire in the candlestick holders. No mind that there are no candlesticks. And the clock is perfect (thanks Neen!). It's spooky for Halloween, and cozy for Christmas.</div>
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjUsgEzc6xcL1mNv4b5EdXH5f7uxe9RVbgYKask7BZ8sztbURNIMfOQp2HqY-dVHMDLn0ZQjC2mSNCvKVL3xlM7kz_EVkq9dSrlwgrg5xd8n9tSJh8v3QSMecElVcr54ZIJ-7tP1pisj0Y/s1600/Oct.+upload+10-17-2014+3-53-21+PM.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="298" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjUsgEzc6xcL1mNv4b5EdXH5f7uxe9RVbgYKask7BZ8sztbURNIMfOQp2HqY-dVHMDLn0ZQjC2mSNCvKVL3xlM7kz_EVkq9dSrlwgrg5xd8n9tSJh8v3QSMecElVcr54ZIJ-7tP1pisj0Y/s1600/Oct.+upload+10-17-2014+3-53-21+PM.JPG" width="400" /></a></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
This spooky black bird is looking at himself in the mirror, which is quite lifelike, really. Though you can't see it, we stuffed the stand he's perching on with black feathers to remind him that he'd better be a good bird :) And to satisfy our Aunt Juicy, who has the worst luck with birds known to man. Seriously. Birds are out for her. Alfred Hitchcock could've taken a scene or two from her life. Don't believe me? Check out her stories <a href="http://www.theoblaster.blogspot.com/2010/05/blasting-zone.html">here</a>, <a href="http://www.theoblaster.blogspot.com/2010/05/bombs-away.html">here</a>, <a href="http://www.theoblaster.blogspot.com/2010/05/owls-are-birds-too-ya-know.html">here</a>, <a href="http://www.theoblaster.blogspot.com/2010/05/black-feathery-and-bad.html">here</a> and <a href="http://www.theoblaster.blogspot.com/2010/05/dear-creepy-crow-find-another-tree-to.html">here</a>.</div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj52RQ4-kPe0GCLMVzSjeDjy1MVvYQcN8e_Yxrsl-b8_sMqH0lv6MfcXWyO5yRqcKLdFtPb-5VeUM7Uz8Ig6xgt95pK_XCXytMKKgNuW4FKcUI0OqC4gPNLo4F_sJAFhFqYmitxDeirAUM/s1600/Oct.+upload+10-17-2014+3-53-33+PM.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="298" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj52RQ4-kPe0GCLMVzSjeDjy1MVvYQcN8e_Yxrsl-b8_sMqH0lv6MfcXWyO5yRqcKLdFtPb-5VeUM7Uz8Ig6xgt95pK_XCXytMKKgNuW4FKcUI0OqC4gPNLo4F_sJAFhFqYmitxDeirAUM/s1600/Oct.+upload+10-17-2014+3-53-33+PM.JPG" width="400" /></a></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
Here is our ever so important witchy hand. Not sure why we call it that, considering it's a skeleton hand. But it has freaked my kids out for years (in a giggly kind of way). You put your hand in its cauldron to take a piece of candy and the bony hand slaps down on you and yells 'Whatcha doin?' or 'Boo' or laughs wickedly. You can see that the poor thing has a few toddler miles.</div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjTlHDiEFQIBM5ySNZv6QytxVEeSoPdj4rr0NjvfPiX8l7PU7VvR-ne9Jt_fHuyPKjAqkIrygjm5Hzpyr00O-xdwo0pgPD2NWXyFAczwXad31C4xhF7IbdS2bAYFVdwyROZxgIXF4xR1ME/s1600/Oct.+upload+10-17-2014+3-53-41+PM.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="298" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjTlHDiEFQIBM5ySNZv6QytxVEeSoPdj4rr0NjvfPiX8l7PU7VvR-ne9Jt_fHuyPKjAqkIrygjm5Hzpyr00O-xdwo0pgPD2NWXyFAczwXad31C4xhF7IbdS2bAYFVdwyROZxgIXF4xR1ME/s1600/Oct.+upload+10-17-2014+3-53-41+PM.JPG" width="400" /></a></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
The ever so helpful A, with his best monster impersonation. Well done my boy, you do me proud.</div>
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi2_WxP8c5acevKUW1EW4NFNcishiceUADngiH32UYrXmWQ8ePGQLvIhuAZNvbVovUOuduoGOkidtJKqfu4Zgfzvu4ymgkSNgnvnpIF4r6pks4nf97oPNMv17KJELh323PSNmKzcNYXE1I/s1600/Oct.+upload+10-17-2014+3-53-45+PM.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="237" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi2_WxP8c5acevKUW1EW4NFNcishiceUADngiH32UYrXmWQ8ePGQLvIhuAZNvbVovUOuduoGOkidtJKqfu4Zgfzvu4ymgkSNgnvnpIF4r6pks4nf97oPNMv17KJELh323PSNmKzcNYXE1I/s1600/Oct.+upload+10-17-2014+3-53-45+PM.JPG" width="320" /></a></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
Of course, here is the mirror wreath (that really isn't a wreath at all) that I posted a tutorial for <a href="http://happyisaverb.blogspot.com/2014/10/diy-creepy-halloween-mirror-wreath.html">here</a>. Below it we hung our spider web wind chime. </div>
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgXExbfuCdSpWszkrhhc7e1PTiO4ZEmjra6HCPY7Oxe88bQsRZHRbx_F_PrvG4MMAtIUeVqktDtXuQJ9moK-x2NdjhxovYjcy0sEbEvNMpl5BumULzzmP7FU_Z18gzl1OreZhwAMruyEas/s1600/Oct.+upload+10-17-2014+3-54-11+PM.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgXExbfuCdSpWszkrhhc7e1PTiO4ZEmjra6HCPY7Oxe88bQsRZHRbx_F_PrvG4MMAtIUeVqktDtXuQJ9moK-x2NdjhxovYjcy0sEbEvNMpl5BumULzzmP7FU_Z18gzl1OreZhwAMruyEas/s1600/Oct.+upload+10-17-2014+3-54-11+PM.JPG" width="298" /></a></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
And now, for my favorite decoration this year, I give you our monster door. Made by the kids from a dollar store table cloth, a black trash bag, a piece o cardstock and some spray adhesive. All cut out by the kids. I was so impressed that they could wield the scissors like that. Red eyes were their idea too. Same with the fangs. I love that you can see it as you drive by, because it's so big!</div>
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi1pi6_bunNibH8TTLJwp2Nu1cyd0QHqW40PNSAdVX7greXbq5YzhXpc8N-MITEKhqWTbAPY6wPAnXfEc0Fxisw2s3kHJ_zD3FDaXVWm5VISwz-y9cYmpVZ7tGB5KV_GMYFDAMuXBwHAao/s1600/Oct.+upload+10-17-2014+3-54-22+PM.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi1pi6_bunNibH8TTLJwp2Nu1cyd0QHqW40PNSAdVX7greXbq5YzhXpc8N-MITEKhqWTbAPY6wPAnXfEc0Fxisw2s3kHJ_zD3FDaXVWm5VISwz-y9cYmpVZ7tGB5KV_GMYFDAMuXBwHAao/s1600/Oct.+upload+10-17-2014+3-54-22+PM.JPG" width="227" /></a></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
Next is our crop of baby-boo pumpkins. Can you hear the pride oozing from my voice? We grew them. And then we painted them. Again, all done by the kids except for the polka dot ones. and the green ones glow in the dark! Of course I glittered them. I'm a sucker for glitter, always have been.</div>
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiy2s2H6efZifadTOOPEjhcduRT49NEap9VGco_CN0qfhdG4-lsfQUgKkMD-568ruFhpgzEXgReYPtR6tYapImCXbO8hdJRcxh1RkCSWw5ETFz2rEMEoFJlyYZy9BUxYv5fjeL-jcdtaYU/s1600/Oct.+upload+10-17-2014+3-58-39+PM.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="298" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiy2s2H6efZifadTOOPEjhcduRT49NEap9VGco_CN0qfhdG4-lsfQUgKkMD-568ruFhpgzEXgReYPtR6tYapImCXbO8hdJRcxh1RkCSWw5ETFz2rEMEoFJlyYZy9BUxYv5fjeL-jcdtaYU/s1600/Oct.+upload+10-17-2014+3-58-39+PM.JPG" width="400" /></a></div>
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjTVa98N7_Z5UHaBYyriwwEZ075w_fE_sGjIs2U4dSUFUOra5bweIM3pW_x-XrQF17ByonFRRDXG3YGCEmXbfcBcZnGRyRUJXJHNSyoHRl0SuZBDQndGhQ1py9qNuQxpZY8W-pDQouovJ0/s1600/Oct.+upload+10-17-2014+4-00-17+PM.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjTVa98N7_Z5UHaBYyriwwEZ075w_fE_sGjIs2U4dSUFUOra5bweIM3pW_x-XrQF17ByonFRRDXG3YGCEmXbfcBcZnGRyRUJXJHNSyoHRl0SuZBDQndGhQ1py9qNuQxpZY8W-pDQouovJ0/s1600/Oct.+upload+10-17-2014+4-00-17+PM.JPG" width="396" /></a></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2806425818940283182.post-71778648161713408782014-10-16T21:29:00.002-06:002021-01-24T21:41:07.208-07:00Mommyhood and a movie review<div class="" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<span style="background-color: white; color: #222222; font-family: arial, sans-serif; font-size: 13px; text-align: start;">As I was wiping the table off tonight, collecting huge gobs of spilled food and rocks (normal at the dinner table, right?) I realized that these sweet years of chaotic littles and their treasures won't be long.</span></div>
<div class="" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<span style="background-color: white; color: #222222; font-family: arial, sans-serif; font-size: 13px; text-align: start;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="http://static.tumblr.com/qur1lcd/EcRna9sm8/thumb_mom.png" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="http://static.tumblr.com/qur1lcd/EcRna9sm8/thumb_mom.png" height="76" width="400" /></a></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="http://static.tumblr.com/qur1lcd/FGCna9skp/thumb_coach.png" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="http://static.tumblr.com/qur1lcd/FGCna9skp/thumb_coach.png" height="76" width="400" /></a><a href="http://static.tumblr.com/qur1lcd/pskna9slt/thumb_bishop.png" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="http://static.tumblr.com/qur1lcd/pskna9slt/thumb_bishop.png" height="76" width="400" /></a><a href="http://static.tumblr.com/qur1lcd/2nyna9slb/thumb_fighter.png" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="http://static.tumblr.com/qur1lcd/2nyna9slb/thumb_fighter.png" height="76" width="400" /></a></div>
<br /><span style="background-color: white; color: #222222; font-family: arial, sans-serif; font-size: 13px;">We just saw meet the Mormons, which is a movie about who Mormons are and what makes them tick. <a href="http://meetthemormons.com/#/filter-all/page-1">(see the trailer)</a> I truly think they captured an honest sense of who LDS people are. I know more people like the 6 families featured in the film than I can count. It was beautiful to me and made me want to do something amazing or really be amazing at something. My sweet hubby laughed at me and sincerely said 'honey, you already do amazing things'. While I don't see it, it made me want to do amazing things with the talents god has blessed me with.</span><br style="background-color: white; color: #222222; font-family: arial, sans-serif; font-size: 13px;" /><span style="background-color: white; color: #222222; font-family: arial, sans-serif; font-size: 13px;"><br /></span><br />
<span style="background-color: white; color: #222222; font-family: arial, sans-serif; font-size: 13px;"> In the movie, the missionary mom watches her boy grow up and then prepare and leave for a mission. You see her past and the choices that meant she had him when she was 16. Their story continues in pictures right up until his mission. It's amazingly fast. And It isn't long for me either. Our oldest is 8, and it seems like just a few months ago that I was coaching myself in my head, thinking 'if I can just get her to 8, I'll have it made'. Check on part one, not so much part two.</span><br style="background-color: white; color: #222222; font-family: arial, sans-serif; font-size: 13px;" /><br style="background-color: white; color: #222222; font-family: arial, sans-serif; font-size: 13px;" /><span style="background-color: white; color: #222222; font-family: arial, sans-serif; font-size: 13px;">Anyhow, I loved the movie. I was inspired by the simple acts that brought greatness to the lives of each person in the film, and I recognize that their faith in Jesus Christ motivated that in each case.</span><br style="background-color: white; color: #222222; font-family: arial, sans-serif; font-size: 13px;" /><br style="background-color: white; color: #222222; font-family: arial, sans-serif; font-size: 13px;" /><span style="background-color: white; color: #222222; font-family: arial, sans-serif; font-size: 13px;">I hope you take the chance to go see it.</span>Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2806425818940283182.post-33978154475128639992014-10-06T02:01:00.000-06:002021-01-24T21:41:07.220-07:00Brain Surgery part 2For Part one, follow <a href="http://happyisaverb.blogspot.com/2014/09/brain-tumors-cysts-and-diagnosis-part-1.html">this link</a><br />
<br />
True to form, as I have done several times, I only spoke in Spanish after my brain surgery. Not that I can even remember these conversations, but everyone else does. Don't ask me what that's about. I have no idea.<br />
<br />
I clearly remembered my anesthesiologist name, who was the last person I had seen before surgery and had a crazy long name. Like Dufenbergershlick. I don't remember speaking Spanish, but I do remember the very surprised face of the anesthesiologist and hearing the assistant say, "wow, she remembered your name".<br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="http://www.usnews.com/dims4/USNEWS/10e3575/2147483647/resize/652x%3E/quality/85/?url=%2Fcmsmedia%2Fbd%2F1f36e1026bade91003492f6ca2a8c6%2F5132FE_DA_080609healy_52311et.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="http://www.usnews.com/dims4/USNEWS/10e3575/2147483647/resize/652x%3E/quality/85/?url=%2Fcmsmedia%2Fbd%2F1f36e1026bade91003492f6ca2a8c6%2F5132FE_DA_080609healy_52311et.jpg" height="266" width="400" /></a></div>
<br />
And almost as if I had perfectly orchestrated a joke, I scared a poor CNA to death. I had a pre-op nurse named Elizabeth, whose name I also remembered after surgery. As the post-op nurses (totally new to me) were wheeling me to the neural intensive care unit (NICU), I began asking (in Spanish) for Elizabeth. "Things would be a lot better if I could just get a little water," I said to her. But everyone was too stunned to answer. The CNA, who happened to be the only one there who spoke Spanish, was also named Elizabeth. She thought I knew who she was, or maybe had some kind of ESP.<br />
<br />
A couple of hours into recovery, she reluctantly peeked into our room to ask if I knew her. I said no, wondering if I should. She explained the whole thing to me and confessed it freaked her out a little. Poor lady!<br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="http://80.36.73.149/almacen/medicina/oftalmologia/enciclopedias/duane/graphics/figures/v2/0020/011f.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="http://80.36.73.149/almacen/medicina/oftalmologia/enciclopedias/duane/graphics/figures/v2/0020/011f.jpg" height="232" width="400" /></a></div>
<br />
<br />
The neurosurgery residents came by and assessed my responses to toe-poking, finger counting, and speech recollection. My results were good, and it appeared that the surrounding areas of my brain were unharmed by the surgery. My blood work was promising and my Doctor said that all was going well and we could be released in as soon as 3 days.<br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgMGgl6iAcjnuu-Y8lxb0c7d33StXOBkINoeMgIi9ZWqxcURYm3ZEwfWvL8A_5vVG-uhUxuikkBYq_c_pVl0xn9gUBq93tve6n_mrPX2VLZJktHb9x3q6hDg8n1xr2BuhjbuvrJnLNG6P8/s1600/IMG_3279.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgMGgl6iAcjnuu-Y8lxb0c7d33StXOBkINoeMgIi9ZWqxcURYm3ZEwfWvL8A_5vVG-uhUxuikkBYq_c_pVl0xn9gUBq93tve6n_mrPX2VLZJktHb9x3q6hDg8n1xr2BuhjbuvrJnLNG6P8/s1600/IMG_3279.JPG" height="266" width="400" /></a></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
<br />
<br />
My sweet husband was so kind and attentive, and a natural at unplugging the monitors and machines every time I had to get out of bed to go to the bathroom. He stayed near through my long naps and my first bites of Jello. He even got our 3 kids, who were staying with my amazing in-laws on face time. I wasn't sure that I wanted the kids to be upset by how I looked, but I tentatively talked to them. Unfortunately, the screen froze on the faces of my sweet kiddos right as they took in what Mommy looked like, and they looked so scared by me that I couldn't help busting into tears and losing it. I wasn't sure I was ok, so Dan turned off the video and we finished on the phone.<br />
<br />
<br />
<a name='more'></a><br />
<br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://www.ohiohealth.com/mayoImages/images/image_popup/mcdc7_transsphenoidalsurg.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="400" src="https://www.ohiohealth.com/mayoImages/images/image_popup/mcdc7_transsphenoidalsurg.jpg" width="398" /></a></div>
<br />
<br />
I was probably overreacting. For the surgery they went in through my nose, punched through the bone at the back of my sinuses, and accessed my pituitary that way. But the pituitary is the master gland, and my hormones were all upset. Not to mention that I had two shunts up my nose, a large gauze pad across and under it, and a breathing machine in my mouth. I wasn't liking how serious it all felt.<br />
<br />
On day two the Doc removed the nose pack, and gave orders against sneezing, strong sniffing, blowing my nose, throwing up. Any of those things would stress the dura plug. What is that, you ask? During the surgery the membrane around my brain was nicked, which allowed CSF (cerebro-spinal fluid) to leak. To fix that leak, they cut a bit of fat from my belly button area and re-purposed it by stuffing it in my head. Not a pretty thought, I know, but the body tolerates that better than anything else, and doesn't reject the fat tissue. I'm still a little grossed out by it, but hey.<br />
<br />
Day three came and the head resident (there were about 18 residents on rotations every 7 hours, I swear) assessed my progress and said she was hesitant to let us go home. Our hopes were dashed, because we wanted nothing more than to go home. That day, one of the red-flags we were cautioned about popped right up. I began to have a salty taste in the back of my throat, which indicated that the CSF was still leaking. Try not to freak out about that: your brain fluid is leaking down your throat. Anxiety settled right in, though i didn't recognize it.<br />
<br />
They tested urine and blood, and sure enough there was a bit of a leak, for which they kept close watch, gave me meds and kept us another day. We were just hoping to get to the Neuro-surgery recovery floor by that point, and out of the NICU. <br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-_IuP8EsD8QQ/UTj4C8Dnl0I/AAAAAAAACjY/-RcCU5CgwDw/s1600/2012-12-15%2B11.16.57.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-_IuP8EsD8QQ/UTj4C8Dnl0I/AAAAAAAACjY/-RcCU5CgwDw/s1600/2012-12-15%2B11.16.57.jpg" height="240" width="320" /></a></div>
<br />
<br />
On the positive side, though, I was eating and my sodium levels were holding. That's important because the pituitary is the part of your brain which receives ADH (a hormone) from the hypothalamus. ADH is the hormone which controls water retention. When your pituitary can't receive the ADH (from trauma, or say surgery) it can't retain any water, and suddenly your dehydrated like crazy but your kidney's don't get the message to keep the water in your body. That's called Diabetes Insipidus. Very bad. Our bodies are amazing and amazingly complex. In later months I would find out that the posterior pituitary wasn't even cut or dissected. It was just jostled. That is all it took to cause all the trauma.<br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiDZTXAP8KoakY19EImseGvOxpJX9DGwkECCBkDsAxa3YpTyjiv7T72tF-jdjbp4Ey9Sr3tGSTgOxLnD9U3tcjijMAOp5XHAS-iZkEMMca5ct9ehuYyyApQ6M7zqZYIlbS4RBu7yXnv-OQ/s1600/8108_241-2.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiDZTXAP8KoakY19EImseGvOxpJX9DGwkECCBkDsAxa3YpTyjiv7T72tF-jdjbp4Ey9Sr3tGSTgOxLnD9U3tcjijMAOp5XHAS-iZkEMMca5ct9ehuYyyApQ6M7zqZYIlbS4RBu7yXnv-OQ/s1600/8108_241-2.jpg" height="295" width="400" /></a></div>
<br />
<br />
In the wings of my developing issues and side effects of surgery, was my wonderful hubby. the day before my surgery, he was diagnosed with viral laryngitis. He had a fever and his throat was on fire, his whole body ached, but he was so paranoid about getting kicked out of the NICU that he didn't mention it, didn't take his meds if anyone would see him, and swigged his cough syrup from a bottle like a sneaky drunkard, because he was nervous that someone would catch him measuring his dose. He would rather die at this point than be separated from me when I was so bad off. I still tease him about that. He was so good to me, and luckily got better over the course of 4 or 5 days.<br />
<br />
Fast forward to our release date. I was still feeling shaky as to trusting that my body would act right, but was so excited to get home. The doctors had decided that I indeed did have Diabetes Insipidus, and that I would need to take a drug through an inhaler called DDAVP until my pituitary healed enough to get over it. The thing is, Diabetes Insipidus (DI) doesn't have any time frame for healing. Indeed, many patients just live with it for their whole lives.<br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="http://www.trbimg.com/img-5102e700/turbine/la-fi-mo-gatorade-flame-retardant-20130125-001/600" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="http://www.trbimg.com/img-5102e700/turbine/la-fi-mo-gatorade-flame-retardant-20130125-001/600" height="245" width="400" /></a></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
The thing is, that wasn't really ok with me. Ha! That's like a cancer patient saying she's not ok with regression. You don't get to control these things. But living with it felt like I was always one step away from dying. I was peeing about 4700 ml every two hours. That's more than 4-32 oz. bottles of gatorade. I was drinking about 8 smaller size bottles of gatorade in that time and wasn't keeping up. And I was constantly thirsty. People with DI have been known to pull over and drink from gutters when they find themselves without water. The Endocrinologist warned me that I would need to have a drink literally at all times on my person. It was unreal.<br />
<br />
But I wasn't dying, just for the record. And if you find yourself with a new diagnosis of DI, I assure you that you can get used to it, and your body usually calms down to a much lower output over time. But I'd still carry a gatorade with me wherever I went.<br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="http://www.thecuttingedgenews.com/uploads/cmimg_52980.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="http://www.thecuttingedgenews.com/uploads/cmimg_52980.jpg" height="320" width="400" /></a></div>
<br />
<br />
After being home for all of one and a half days, I began to feel lethargic, my speech began to slur, and I knew something wasn't right. My sweet mother in law was taking care of me and a friend happened to stop by to see how I was. I'm so grateful she was there, because gauging myself against her I knew I wasn't ok. And then she babysat my kids while my MIL rushed me to the ER. That was nerve-wracking for her, I could certainly see, but she kept it together so well. She was so calm with me.<br />
<br />
Unfortunately, my husband was only 10 minutes into his mid-term (which he had already postponed due to the extended stay at the hospital) when he got the call that I was crashing and being admitted into the local ER. He randomly filled in all the bubbles on his scan-tron test, turned it in and ran to the hospital. He ended up with a 90 percent on that test. Tell me that wasn't a miracle.<br />
<br />
Once the got a good dose of morphine in me (imagine slurred speech, crying and using hand signals to indicate what I was feeling, along with all sorts of apologies and the morphine seems pretty necessary) I slept through scans, MRIs and doctors conferencing. I awoke to Dan making a joke about some nonsense, and I smiled, relieved that he was there. My sodium was a little off, but mostly I was critically low on magnesium and a few other important things. The endocrinologists discussed (at like 10 pm, mind you. Those guys must not get good sleep) and decided that I'd better be re-admitted to the hospital in SLC. They offered an ambulance, but we said no thanks, Dan being very able to get me there just as fast, and thanking the Lord when the highway patrol man didn't stop him as he flew by.<br />
<br />
At this point my anxiety over the whole health thing was in a bad way. But I dealt with it without recognizing what it was, and my hubby and nurses really helped me. I had one particularly wonderful nurse who sat with me every extra moment she could find and talked me through the hardest parts of the distress I felt. Dan and I drew closer together too, as I never expected anyone to be so kind and unselfish to me. He literally didn't go to get lunch without making sure I was Ok and settled. <br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="http://media.ldscdn.org/images/media-library/beliefs-practices/priesthood-blessing-608881-print.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="http://media.ldscdn.org/images/media-library/beliefs-practices/priesthood-blessing-608881-print.jpg" height="400" width="266" /></a></div>
<br />
<br />
In our church, we believe (as I've said before) in healing through priesthood (the power and authority of God) blessings (where hands are put on a sick person's head and a prayer said). So my husband jumped at the chance to help when he heard an announcement over the hospital's PA system that an Elder (the people who give them) was needed in the burn wing. We were surprised and he rushed away to give a blessing to a young boy who was about to go into surgery and had requested a blessing and needed it right then. There were 2 other guys who are also Elders in our church who showed up, and the 3 found themselves giving a very tender blessing to a very concerned boy. In it, the other Elder who was saying the prayer mentioned an unusual scripture. The boy was comforted, and when my husband came back to explain what he was needed for, he told me the scripture. I had been memorizing that very scripture for 2 weeks before my surgery, as a way to keep focus and fear out. I was humbled and comforted too by the connection, and reassured that God was still aware of me.<br />
<br />
In one of my own priesthood blessings, given by my brother in law, I had a really sweet experience. He is an experienced motorcyclist and moto-vlogger, and an all around laid back guy. I was desperate for some sort of hope on the horizon and mention of relief in the blessing. It surprised me, however, when in my blessing he explained that things wouldn't get easier just yet. Yet his simple words told me more about the Savior's compassion than I had ever understood. And it was enough for me then.<br />
<br />
Things didn't get better right away. Among other struggles in the hospital, I had a vaso-vagal episode, where my blood pressure plummeted to 40/22, which is usually where you flat line. The nurses ran to my room with a crash cart and almost used it when they realized what it was, and luckily didn't. After 30 min. my bp returned to normal, and it was just another bump on the road to recovery.<br />
<br />
My diabetes Insipidus slowly decreased to a more manageable place, and though my anxiety was crazy by then, my body was slow to return to normal emotionally. I was released to come home, and very carefully watched over. It had been 2 weeks since the first day of surgery and I was ready to be home, and focus on recovery.<br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgNqmwQpFPgSX0LvflMF5P4ngAH31xe-OQVmT353DLuSJjQMjL-vfYf890PPiwbSoxHmdsLXs8Z-G5Uy96XNHmAFrIXCcjl6izXEnv5sV2uPMYCqeqkFSSeKtf4f4I3TyGk6EchBzcpudU/s1600/IMG_6929.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgNqmwQpFPgSX0LvflMF5P4ngAH31xe-OQVmT353DLuSJjQMjL-vfYf890PPiwbSoxHmdsLXs8Z-G5Uy96XNHmAFrIXCcjl6izXEnv5sV2uPMYCqeqkFSSeKtf4f4I3TyGk6EchBzcpudU/s1600/IMG_6929.JPG" height="300" width="400" /></a></div>
<br />
What came next was a very long journey to wellness. Tackling DI was the least of my concerns, as insomnia, anxiety attacks, and learning how to be a mom again seemed huge challenges to me. Life-changing lessons remained to be learned, and looking back (although I didn't feel it) I was in God's hands. In hindsight, I realize that Providence led us to be exactly where we needed to be in those times, and with the people who would be so impactful and so needed. God took care of every detail. But you can never see such things when you're in the face of overwhelming difficulty, and it's taken me years to appreciate the truly amazing experience I had in my healing.<br />
<br />
More to come on that in part 3 of my brain surgery story.<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2806425818940283182.post-22228135787015208542014-10-03T15:40:00.002-06:002021-01-24T21:41:07.235-07:00DIY Creepy Halloween Mirror WreathToday was much better (anxiety wise) than yesterday. My upset stomach continued until about 7pm, but really, others often have it so much worse. Maybe we all ate the same lead paint chips when we were young. Sheesh. Sometimes I wish there were more defined causes to the onset of anxiety.<br />
<br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjxDYE719_JBu0jSOVpjGx5oKoaRLzUThUg8-uHPGl4Q8IjnzplYz-O5Wr4GgKclZZKHG4mbWIIS_MkUoeiaOsMTFPd1XYcUo7WAyILedudqRF6fSrb3-7TphbLlEc9ND7KRUzo8nh-Wf8/s1600/IMG_2644.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjxDYE719_JBu0jSOVpjGx5oKoaRLzUThUg8-uHPGl4Q8IjnzplYz-O5Wr4GgKclZZKHG4mbWIIS_MkUoeiaOsMTFPd1XYcUo7WAyILedudqRF6fSrb3-7TphbLlEc9ND7KRUzo8nh-Wf8/s1600/IMG_2644.JPG" height="640" width="612" /></a></div>
<br />
<br />
On another note, Halloween is fast approaching, and I have promised many a great diy holiday projects. Meet the creepy wreath! Appropriate for small kiddos, and older ones alike. The best part? IT COST ME LESS THAN 4.00!! Yay for a DIY project!<br />
<br />
Here's how she went down:<br />
<br />
<u>GATHER:</u><br />
<br />
the mirror (a serving platter from Dollar tree, which happens to be reflective)<br />
a diaper (or ask for a free one from you neighbor with 4 kids. She's bound to have one.)<br />
Scraps of satiny emerald green fabric...from a dress your grandma made you when you were 12<br />
(thanks grandma!)<br />
Scraps of black felt and old lace (optional)<br />
2 fake plant stems from the dollar tree as well (any creepy stem with black fuzz on it works)<br />
Raffia or straw<br />
6-10 purple fuzzies or pom pom balls (optional)<br />
12-15 black feathers (from a craft store - I already had these)<br />
glue gun (are you a DIYer? You already have this)<br />
a scrap of white toole - or tole. Why doesn't English spell like it sounds? (any mesh fabric will do.<br />
You only need like a 7x9" piece)<br />
<br />
<u>MAKE THE WITCHY FINGERS</u><br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhPWbwmMCm4GIpWdZAdNLnKmzV-838hpGI2xmOHTNT322lV_HM3pexmyZlal-pLXZuEYGUZwjYMDGh9yrUCJnRYM4ERSeoi4M3nsX92kcaYSJ0313r3HCOQVHY444eFCujrYuznpzhjddg/s1600/IMG_2636.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhPWbwmMCm4GIpWdZAdNLnKmzV-838hpGI2xmOHTNT322lV_HM3pexmyZlal-pLXZuEYGUZwjYMDGh9yrUCJnRYM4ERSeoi4M3nsX92kcaYSJ0313r3HCOQVHY444eFCujrYuznpzhjddg/s1600/IMG_2636.JPG" height="298" width="400" /></a></div>
<br />
<br />
This is the creepiest part of the mirror, and really just a feat of imagination. This is also the coolest part, according to my kids. They can't believe the scary fingers are really just diapers.<br />
<br />
1. Get your diaper out, and cut 4 pieces of 1.5x3" strips. The stuffing will want to come out, I know.<br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgJuE9aQgicSPfxwqcHK_PeW-LEfx0FYx_q5vIT-KIk9jBJ__SySkVuvrI7MO_KVClAk1GCr2nvK_Lkz197tmB_5v_TxG4AUl3HzLQv2f7Kc3HVBT1TKj6wH4qTwQG-23nkV0NGcU932QU/s1600/IMG_2631.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgJuE9aQgicSPfxwqcHK_PeW-LEfx0FYx_q5vIT-KIk9jBJ__SySkVuvrI7MO_KVClAk1GCr2nvK_Lkz197tmB_5v_TxG4AUl3HzLQv2f7Kc3HVBT1TKj6wH4qTwQG-23nkV0NGcU932QU/s1600/IMG_2631.JPG" height="298" width="400" /></a></div>
<br />
<br />
2. Now you roll up your little strip length wise, and tape it 1/3 of the way up. Bend the roll in half, and THEN tighten it on the un-taped section. Once you've got it pretty tight, tape in place. Stay with me, I know this is weird.<br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhlQjUg9mGBin9EGTriPzVjTUX-wQ30iqJblYrcxwP9JyBI6E0vtgIfDbnzY5xd1DZCKb4EoEXESQlMFwXS2CBeZi6zG-1iGISUGNCeuaCvHoaCRjEvw8mIU2_7uGJVEDJPTfAc9QUuOr4/s1600/IMG_2637.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhlQjUg9mGBin9EGTriPzVjTUX-wQ30iqJblYrcxwP9JyBI6E0vtgIfDbnzY5xd1DZCKb4EoEXESQlMFwXS2CBeZi6zG-1iGISUGNCeuaCvHoaCRjEvw8mIU2_7uGJVEDJPTfAc9QUuOr4/s1600/IMG_2637.JPG" height="298" width="400" /></a></div>
<br />
<br />
3. You can tighten the tip even further and tape it again, making it pointy like the fingernail of a witch finger. Depending upon how tightly you rolled each section, it should stay pretty bent and pointy! It's ok if not. Try it again, or accept that your fingers are arthritic and won't bend like they used to.<br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhpdbltJ0UX7xIFy32aoqmsw9aNEjj8VrAuoT673Xm9rXQPByIkow-43_9K7e36wP3XWlZ9QoJgFRSntmf7rVkMSKeTUXYZnQ66zVtwfcrLA6Gcur5WPdDYv5okKKHG7lguRVCAtMlvyhU/s1600/IMG_2638.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhpdbltJ0UX7xIFy32aoqmsw9aNEjj8VrAuoT673Xm9rXQPByIkow-43_9K7e36wP3XWlZ9QoJgFRSntmf7rVkMSKeTUXYZnQ66zVtwfcrLA6Gcur5WPdDYv5okKKHG7lguRVCAtMlvyhU/s1600/IMG_2638.JPG" height="298" width="400" /></a></div>
<br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEixT2ClWoYYUk1PBuOvZ5FvapN7rb2n6dWxhOLezliytPv_kZRttm9vEve8YErJ1BR7GqepPBGYaboUrlDQ2rwvzRZ0akyZRpsxt83CJ1oNqcYAJZH_U1ykYRiQGsiwrjM91bhwHqtu_aI/s1600/IMG_2639.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEixT2ClWoYYUk1PBuOvZ5FvapN7rb2n6dWxhOLezliytPv_kZRttm9vEve8YErJ1BR7GqepPBGYaboUrlDQ2rwvzRZ0akyZRpsxt83CJ1oNqcYAJZH_U1ykYRiQGsiwrjM91bhwHqtu_aI/s1600/IMG_2639.JPG" height="298" width="400" /></a></div>
<br />
<br />
4. Finally, wrap the whole thing in your shimmery green black fabric. Use the glue gun to tack it down, and make sure to burn your fingers at least 6 times. Sacrifice makes it valuable :) Cut out some raisin size fingernails from the black fabric and glue them on there.<br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEivam_rI4zu87lpJliehn3zSGRhvgcMGWhm3pxlQ3PUE_T6mw9XaQiXSGuKv6SsfeqnHpSTrp40Jeq33SfwehyB-hc0JTcwfhbxLSOLOjOedvicvdvYLg18_1K_5xPYSOyHqqc2HVrWwG8/s1600/IMG_2647.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEivam_rI4zu87lpJliehn3zSGRhvgcMGWhm3pxlQ3PUE_T6mw9XaQiXSGuKv6SsfeqnHpSTrp40Jeq33SfwehyB-hc0JTcwfhbxLSOLOjOedvicvdvYLg18_1K_5xPYSOyHqqc2HVrWwG8/s1600/IMG_2647.JPG" height="400" width="305" /></a></div>
<br />
<br />
5. Position all 4 fingers into the most natural look you can. I recommend posing your own fingers and then modeling the diaper fingers after that. Glue the unfinished bottoms to the back of the mirror, and then again at the lip of the front of the mirror. Cut a strip of felt out to cover the back of fingers on the mirror and glue it down. Cut out a piece of lace and glue it on the knuckles and on top of the black felt. Now it looks like a sleeve.<br />
<br />
<u>MAKE THE GHOST FACE</u><br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiT2ApdJpKpH2TBe7UrO6EHnct8NO5phyuhCWeP47FPdjibDPLBnCoYzhHYeK6_sA5hNjEBl9nI9zL8z_KmCk33Af6P9dGyfDUmPTrByzRY6DQAcjQpHkfvaqH-CEBxm6nzN2qO_S_O0es/s1600/IMG_2643.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiT2ApdJpKpH2TBe7UrO6EHnct8NO5phyuhCWeP47FPdjibDPLBnCoYzhHYeK6_sA5hNjEBl9nI9zL8z_KmCk33Af6P9dGyfDUmPTrByzRY6DQAcjQpHkfvaqH-CEBxm6nzN2qO_S_O0es/s1600/IMG_2643.JPG" height="400" width="298" /></a></div>
<br />
<br />
1. Get your piece of white mesh and fold it over itself. <br />
2. Cut a tear drop shape out of both pieces, so that you get two ghost heads. <br />
3. Fold one of the heads down by 1/3 (tip of the tear drop downward) and cut out some pointed oval<br />
length-wise slits for eyes. <br />
4. Unfold. <br />
5. Fold the whole head in half, and cut a long wavy mouth. Now you have a screaming ghost. <br />
6. Using spray adhesive (or the glue gun) tack down the screaming ghost to the mirror. <br />
7. Bunch up the fabric of the uncut ghost head and tack it down the same way, but make it a little<br />
bunchy and irregular. That gives it dimension.<br />
<br />
<u>BUNDLE THE STEMS</u><br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjN4Z-GZFZ2mxuzPL_8qrMAQcOePlpIQTY22wpu8l0sMyy7KFxiBQoVE8vQb7supQofuENif2Ju2gVq9L_HvxtGDowMOl_-_Uz9HgZ5_lLsbUTizYRYuIwO0z_kWKdQKvHGLh4u9wcRK0s/s1600/IMG_2642.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjN4Z-GZFZ2mxuzPL_8qrMAQcOePlpIQTY22wpu8l0sMyy7KFxiBQoVE8vQb7supQofuENif2Ju2gVq9L_HvxtGDowMOl_-_Uz9HgZ5_lLsbUTizYRYuIwO0z_kWKdQKvHGLh4u9wcRK0s/s1600/IMG_2642.JPG" height="400" width="298" /></a></div>
<br />
<br />
1. Get several pieces of raffia and wrap around the stems. Keep going until you've wrapped up 3-4<br />
inches of the stem.<br />
2. Tie a square knot.<br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgi274IEzuHZtjAs2h4Ou2piWgPp1sRpD-i4AVkure_Z9FUo72gH37DVkfMiTUvgNVJPuuy6VJgdWyXszr23dhtZURlQN1tG0jJ4nwQidIRhU0lWmyW8lYlavy6qEmOEbnxDF0yq7-6hZ0/s1600/IMG_2646.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgi274IEzuHZtjAs2h4Ou2piWgPp1sRpD-i4AVkure_Z9FUo72gH37DVkfMiTUvgNVJPuuy6VJgdWyXszr23dhtZURlQN1tG0jJ4nwQidIRhU0lWmyW8lYlavy6qEmOEbnxDF0yq7-6hZ0/s1600/IMG_2646.JPG" height="400" width="298" /></a></div>
<br />
<br />
3. Cut off the excess close to the knot, so it looks like broom ends.<br />
4. Arrange branches to poke out and jut like a creepy tree.<br />
5. Glue along the side of the mirror, and hold it there for a few seconds till it sets.<br />
<br />
<u>ADHERE THE FEATHERS</u><br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj1-KaE1XsTloOg2egyj9fkQTx33XKGFizZGyTEFaynx7JcBaSUQnX_4BBT-GGETk9-1sEXFY78IC4ar6JG8HuMdNZQAxZJJTDylsJmY4NBRfw5oafTkyIJlYGare1-j3wKZuNBY8B88zw/s1600/IMG_2645.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj1-KaE1XsTloOg2egyj9fkQTx33XKGFizZGyTEFaynx7JcBaSUQnX_4BBT-GGETk9-1sEXFY78IC4ar6JG8HuMdNZQAxZJJTDylsJmY4NBRfw5oafTkyIJlYGare1-j3wKZuNBY8B88zw/s1600/IMG_2645.JPG" height="400" width="298" /></a></div>
<br />
<br />
1. Arrange 12-15 black feathers along the bottom of the mirror<br />
2. Glue the stems only in place, letting the tufts on top free to blow.<br />
3. Enjoy that your mirror has no crow, just the remnants of one.<br />
4. Glue on a few purple pom pom balls/fuzzies because your kids like to think they're spiders<br />
(optional)<br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi5Y7WskxR3WIFmovo_UsPG1uwuqp1IDP3ZxMQhpzoVZr9YgZW-2lZ-Y6ZUDXy8Hj7SUci1_3dCzrjEYrRUTyqWSUywU2H3ypUnCgzGDQgptwIDZQvxs5b2yEf5V0utY2yK7f5tj0Moe9k/s1600/IMG_2644.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi5Y7WskxR3WIFmovo_UsPG1uwuqp1IDP3ZxMQhpzoVZr9YgZW-2lZ-Y6ZUDXy8Hj7SUci1_3dCzrjEYrRUTyqWSUywU2H3ypUnCgzGDQgptwIDZQvxs5b2yEf5V0utY2yK7f5tj0Moe9k/s1600/IMG_2644.JPG" height="400" width="382" /></a></div>
<br />
<br />
tape on a wire to the back of your mirror with packing tape, and you are ready to hang! <br />
<br />
You can add a 'boo' on there, or even write some creepy message in red/black sharpie if you want! I'd love to know if you make one of these! Have fun and Happy Halloween!<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2806425818940283182.post-37411407010012618382014-10-03T00:39:00.000-06:002021-01-24T21:41:07.250-07:00Brain surgery part IIFor the 2 of you that followed the first piece, and for the others that will eventually find this when diagnosed with a rathke's cleft cyst, remember that my surgery experience wasn't all that normal. Most people have their 'minimally invasive' brain surgery and heal wonderfully within a couple of weeks, regaining a normal sense of self within about 6-8 months.<br />
<br />
My extremely talented neuro-surgeon and his team of anesthesiologists, interns, and other specialists that monitored me during my surgery were wonderful. The nurses were great, and the whole Neuro Intensive Care Unit was amazing. Even funny. After prepping me, they wheeled me off to do a trans-sphenodial surgery, basically meaning that they punch through my sphenoid bone right behind my nose and between my eyes, and access the cyst that way. It is incredible that they can even do brain surgery with a little scope and a few instruments up your nose. <br />
<br />
As is pretty common, my dural sack (the sack surrounding the brain) was perforated during surgery, which meant that CSF (cerebral spinal fluid) was leaking, and had to be stopped. So they cut a bit of fat out from my belly button area and plugged the leak with it. I know, disgusting, but the body accepts it's own tissue so much more readily. And I couldn't stand the funky smell until after it healed up, but it was what it was. Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2806425818940283182.post-35039998868800149012014-10-01T09:04:00.001-06:002021-01-24T21:41:07.262-07:00Anxiety doesn't win today<div style="font-family: Calibri; font-size: 11.0pt; margin: 0in;">
I woke up this
morning at the terrible hour of
5am. The crazy thing was, that my
husband was already up and at em' going to work early, and invigorated by the
fresh start. It's funny how some people
are so energized by the early morning hours.
I'm not one of those people.</div>
<div style="font-family: Calibri; font-size: 11.0pt; margin: 0in;">
<br /></div>
<div style="font-family: Calibri; font-size: 11.0pt; margin: 0in;">
So why 5 am? Because my anxiety was kicking in,
threatening to ruin my sleep for the day.
I did a few mental exercises and drifted off to sleep for another 40
minutes of sweet light sleep.</div>
<div style="font-family: Calibri; font-size: 11.0pt; margin: 0in;">
<br /></div>
<div style="font-family: Calibri; font-size: 11.0pt; margin: 0in;">
And then the
adrenaline began. For me it begins at
the base of my neck and spreads down my whole back. At this point, I knew it was get up or get
worse, so I got up.</div>
<div style="font-family: Calibri; font-size: 11.0pt; margin: 0in;">
<br /></div>
<div style="font-family: Calibri; font-size: 11.0pt; margin: 0in;">
I tried to find a Yoga video on Netflix I could do before the
kids had to wake up. No luck. Not even a Pilates or any kind of exercise video to be
found. So I turned on Pandora and did my
own exercise in my room. Hmm.
After 10 minutes I felt worse, though at least my heart rate was up
because of movement, not just adrenaline. I knelt down and said a prayer for some help with this as I could see it wasn't going away easily.</div>
<div style="font-family: Calibri; font-size: 11.0pt; margin: 0in;">
<br /></div>
<div style="font-family: Calibri; font-size: 11.0pt; margin: 0in;">
At this point I was
starting to feel like I was going to pass out and laid
down. I knew what was happening. Classic anxiety for me.</div>
<div style="font-family: Calibri; font-size: 11.0pt; margin: 0in;">
<br /></div>
<div style="font-family: Calibri; font-size: 11.0pt; margin: 0in;">
So I decided that my
body may be on high alert, ready for all sorts of crashes and trouble, but my
mind was not going to join in on the fun.
I put all sorts of ideas about health emergencies and worsening
situations out of my head and focused on the tangible. I took our dog outside, and enjoyed the cool
air for about 30 seconds, after which I made a mad dash to the bathroom and
threw up.</div>
<div style="font-family: Calibri; font-size: 11.0pt; margin: 0in;">
<br />
<a name='more'></a><br /></div>
<div style="font-family: Calibri; font-size: 11.0pt; margin: 0in;">
Throwing up was
actually a great relief, and I didn't feel so nauseous anymore. Weak and trembly and all upset inside, yes,
but not so sick. My sweet daughter woke
up to the sound (gross, right?) and came to see if I was ok. She told me she'd take care of me and brought
me her stuffed dog for a pillow and blanket to lay down on the ground with.</div>
<div style="font-family: Calibri; font-size: 11.0pt; margin: 0in;">
<br /></div>
<div style="font-family: Calibri; font-size: 11.0pt; margin: 0in;">
It was time to wake
up the kiddos, and my hubby called to see if I was up and going. I told him what had gone down and he was
sweet and told me to not worry too much about rushing around (increasing
stress) to get the kids out the door.
They could even be late if need be.
That helped a lot to hear his kindness.</div>
<div style="font-family: Calibri; font-size: 11.0pt; margin: 0in;">
<br /></div>
<div style="font-family: Calibri; font-size: 11.0pt; margin: 0in;">
I woke up the boys
and loved on them, which was good all around.
When they noticed I wasn't moving too fast, I explained I wasn't
feeling good, and I tried to explain a little bit of anxiety, but they're
young, and mostly keyed in on the 'mamma's sick' part.</div>
<div style="font-family: Calibri; font-size: 11.0pt; margin: 0in;">
<br /></div>
<div style="font-family: Calibri; font-size: 11.0pt; margin: 0in;">
They each pledged to
do their best to get dressed, brush, get breakfast and ready for school all by
themselves. And guess what? Blessing of all blessings they did! I told
them what they needed to do (from the floor), then I made myself get up and make lunches, as
well as do our girls hair. Aside from
another emergency run to the bathroom, I was ok. I drove them to school, and although they
were neck and neck with the bell, I think they were on time.</div>
<div style="font-family: Calibri; font-size: 11.0pt; margin: 0in;">
<br /></div>
<div style="font-family: Calibri; font-size: 11.0pt; margin: 0in;">
After that, I came
home with my baby and the sun began to come out. The sunlight and day always helps. I made myself eat a little
because I know that I do so much better that way. Refusing to think about the consequences helped.</div>
<div style="font-family: Calibri; font-size: 11.0pt; margin: 0in;">
<br /></div>
<div style="font-family: Calibri; font-size: 11.0pt; margin: 0in;">
Now it's time to get
doing some chores, and I'll start with laundry.
I'm managing this anxiety, and although it holds my body hostage, today
it hasn't bowled over my mind. In fact, my body is even beginning to follow suit, and I can feel the intensity calming down a
little.</div>
<div style="font-family: Calibri; font-size: 11.0pt; margin: 0in;">
<br /></div>
<br />
<div style="font-family: Calibri; font-size: 11.0pt; margin: 0in;">
Give me a few more
hours and it will be like I didn't even
have trouble today. And if not, It will be better later. It always is.</div>
Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2806425818940283182.post-49789062653863584722014-09-19T00:10:00.000-06:002021-01-24T21:41:07.274-07:00Delusions of GrandeurI've been pretty occupied as of late. If not by all of the canning (peaches, pears, apricots, plum jams, raspberry jams, and even more, all fruit given to us by different friends -we're so thankful for that!) then by the PTA and craft projects and doing things for church. Don't get me wrong, I'm not complaining - I'd rather be crazy busy than without things to do. But somehow in the mix of it all, I've not seen a headlong problem that was staring me in the face.<br />
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
That problem is my tendency to get worked up and angry and yell at my kids. And once they've not heard me, or ignored me or been disrespectful until the 'last straw', I stay that way all the day long. I wish I could say that my anger was fleeting, or harmless in the long run. But the truth is they're good kids, and we're seeing signs in them that say they're acting out and suffering because of it. (stab in the heart)</div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
I'm learning that my anger is never because of them. It's because of me and my own failure to reign my feelings in. What's more, I'm learning is that anger is a secondary emotion, meaning that there is another, more deeply rooted emotion under the surface of my anger that is the real thing I'm worried/upset about. That is so very true when I think of what I do. It's usually the thought that my kid is going to grow up to be disrespectful, rebellious, and messed up that gets me firing and demanding obedience.</div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
I'm finding there are better ways to teach and to support good decisions. And anger is contrary to almost all progress in those arenas.</div>
<div>
<br />
<a name='more'></a><br /></div>
<div>
Where am I finding this stuff? ahaparenting.com It has amazing helps for angry parents. And I'm so grateful for them. And the scriptures. There's plenty there on being slow to anger.</div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
So here I am, realizing these ugly things about myself and seeing that I am just as messed up as any other parent out there. I write these articles here on my blog, and brainstorm ideas for what would be most helpful to other parents while I myself need so much improvement. </div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
It's such a strong piece of humble pie that I can't help but admit it here. Because I don't want visitors coming away with the idea that I see myself in some holy light. For me it's easy to get all the balls juggling in the air, and just consider the other aspects of my life as 'successful' if those balls don't drop. The pta, the projects, this blog and really any effort isn't important if my family and I aren't improved by them. I'm forever learning and re-learning this. Sheesh. Talk about learning by repetition.</div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
So, I apologize for the sporadic posting, and for the crafts that are strewn uncompleted across my craft desk. I love to blog and I love the small audience that reads this one. Those things will come.</div>
<div>
Happy parenting, and wish me well.</div>
Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2806425818940283182.post-75242289104760958682014-09-12T15:34:00.000-06:002021-01-24T21:41:07.287-07:00Silhouette Bundle Sale cheapest ever!If you had a chance to check out the post <a href="http://www.happyisaverb.blogspot.com/2014/08/6-years-of-crafting-with-silhouette.html">6 years of crafting with the Silhouette</a> you've probably seen the amazingness that you can make with this little machine. <br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="http://ecx.images-amazon.com/images/I/71YheJrtlDL._SL1500_.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="http://ecx.images-amazon.com/images/I/71YheJrtlDL._SL1500_.jpg" height="112" width="320" /></a></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
Right now amazon has this machine with a bundle (you choose which one you want) for 229.00! <br />
<br />
I paid much more for that, without all the free gifts. I hope that if you are looking into buying one, you get it at the deal price! Plus, you get a month free membership to the online shape store!<br />
Here's the link: <a href="http://www.amazon.com/s/?_encoding=UTF8&camp=1789&creative=390957&field-keywords=silhouette%20cameo&linkCode=ur2&sprefix=silhouett%2Caps&tag=hapisaver-20&url=search-alias%3Daps&linkId=L63SC6FRCIHM2Q7W">Silhouette Cameo with bundle of your choice</a><br />
<br />
Good luck, and thanks for using my link to buy if you do!Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2806425818940283182.post-17255602773472457962014-09-11T09:33:00.001-06:002021-01-24T21:41:07.298-07:00Brain tumors, Cysts and the Diagnosis: Part 1 if my brain surgery storyI know of a lady who named her various brain tumors after her ex-husbands. I wasn't quite as good natured as she to do that much (and I don't have any ex's) but I think it was to her credit that she did.<br />
<br />
It's crazy hard to be told that you have a brain tumor. So many of you already know parts of my story, but I am finally doing what I told myself I would do in those rough weeks of recovery: write about it so that another person, who may be caught in a scary diagnosis would have an idea of what happens. And also to thank all of you. My friends and church members doctors, and especially family, who supported me and helped me through it all.<br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhmPBhFNkPAhJKsY2Lb7anq0fPp6_lzbpNhk79bFEhucS8pYSxrP2dsXuFmKTxruNkwo_IdC3EFNBvIGbR3l8dQoAz3MsTZQbuDBA5ch6R_J2womo9DR46pAHUGCJgpq1RdSbJkJzlrKIY/s1600/IMG_5428.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhmPBhFNkPAhJKsY2Lb7anq0fPp6_lzbpNhk79bFEhucS8pYSxrP2dsXuFmKTxruNkwo_IdC3EFNBvIGbR3l8dQoAz3MsTZQbuDBA5ch6R_J2womo9DR46pAHUGCJgpq1RdSbJkJzlrKIY/s1600/IMG_5428.JPG" height="300" width="400" /></a></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
At the time of my diagnosis, I was a content mother of 3, rolling along happily married to my best friend (still the case), trying to not go crazy having my hands so full. All of our energies were going into raising kids who could grow up in a healthy 2 parent household that actually loves being together. That has always been our goal. Though not easy, neither me or my husband saw what was coming with the whole tumor thing.<br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjxenowGZ666g_WFIB2azWS1hhdyNg_qZpgA2xVkBRtLY9g0auEXRQNBrWWRPgGILPb4OgQq8ee173Mrvv3h-hAX0DrxpPU9bvQsbxkT7ayREiMUSZSGW44zsagyeLtQjqwytifcDd0T6g/s1600/IMG_6452.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjxenowGZ666g_WFIB2azWS1hhdyNg_qZpgA2xVkBRtLY9g0auEXRQNBrWWRPgGILPb4OgQq8ee173Mrvv3h-hAX0DrxpPU9bvQsbxkT7ayREiMUSZSGW44zsagyeLtQjqwytifcDd0T6g/s1600/IMG_6452.JPG" height="300" width="400" /></a></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
</div>
<br />
<a name='more'></a><br /><br />
<br />
People often ask how I knew that there was something wrong? Headaches, dizziness, seeing things in my vision, and some crazy episodes with hormonal upheaval. That was how I knew I need to seek help, but the cyst had been in my brain since childbirth. Apparently they're common among tumors.<br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="http://images.radiopaedia.org/images/381071/6af07c858be0495de83517226ea64b.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="http://images.radiopaedia.org/images/381071/6af07c858be0495de83517226ea64b.jpg" height="320" width="320" /></a></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<span style="font-size: x-small;">I don't mean any harshness here, </span></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<span style="font-size: x-small;">but this guy must've fallen asleep during his MRI. </span></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<span style="font-size: x-small;">Unfortuantely he has a Rathke's Cleft Cyst too.</span></div>
<br />
I have a Rathke's Cleft Cyst, which basically are "<span style="background-color: white; color: #4a4a4a; font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; line-height: 19px;"> benign cysts — fluid-filled growths — in the pituitary gland. They develop in the space between the front (anterior) and back (posterior) parts of the pituitary gland". </span> Thank you Hopkins' medicine site. Much to my dismay, these cysts sometimes grow, usually very slowly, until it pushes on all the nerves (optic nerve, which controls what you see) pituitary gland (which is your 'master' control gland, telling all other glands what to do and when to release hormones, etc.) and brain surrounding it. That's when you begin to notice something is wrong. Pressure on a part of your brain just isn't good in any form.<br />
<br />
I realized something was wrong during a visit to my dad's house for a family vacation. I had a crazy migraine, and couldn't get it to ease up no matter what I tried, so I excused myself to go to bed early (NOT in my nature). I went to lay down and felt REALLY sick. I went to the bathroom thinking it would help, but knew I was passing out, so laid down on the cold granite tile instead. Something was really wrong. I felt like my blood pressure was bottoming out. <br />
<br />
I called for help and Dan, my dad and my step-mom (who happens to be a RN-Midwife) came a' runnin. We couldn't figure out what was wrong. I was pale, shaking, and still felt horrible, so my dad and hubby gave me a Priesthood blessing (like they gave in the Bible to heal people- see <a href="https://www.lds.org/youth/article/importance-of-priesthood-blessings?lang=eng">here</a> for more info). Within 5 minutes, I threw up and began to feel better. <br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiqWJ0NmZUmiXR40RBbCtmZoAb5XrmRCW6mYIy9myvRh6-QQjboHBETq3ORWG7rjeNyzL6jAsrc9fOKIuNcuA-6AVznn2DRRZx_PofDqAP7JBuv1En4x0RvFgZ0SEOllgnQ-QxVf6zoV3I/s1600/IMG_5508.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiqWJ0NmZUmiXR40RBbCtmZoAb5XrmRCW6mYIy9myvRh6-QQjboHBETq3ORWG7rjeNyzL6jAsrc9fOKIuNcuA-6AVznn2DRRZx_PofDqAP7JBuv1En4x0RvFgZ0SEOllgnQ-QxVf6zoV3I/s1600/IMG_5508.JPG" height="400" width="300" /></a></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
While that was really scary (because I had no idea what was wrong with me) It happened every month for 3 months, almost always in tandem with Aunt Flo visiting. I began to connect the 'episodes' with my hormones, and was later diagnosed with Vaso-Vagal Syncopy (which essentially means that combinations of things like dehydration, low salt, etc. make you pass out. Throwing up gets your BP back up).<br />
<br />
The headaches weren't easing up, and I also noticed that even though my baby had finished nursing more than a year before, I was still producing milk. What in the world? It was time to go to the doc.<br />
<br />
The finding of my cyst was actually a bit of a miracle, because my doctor began by doing a hormone panel on my blood. My prolactin (hormone that makes momma's lactate) was a little elevated. He did some research and decided then and there that I should have an MRI. <i>What</i>? An MRI on my brain? That's the miracle, because most endocrinologists would have deemed my level as 'normal, slightly high' and done nothing about it.<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
</div>
<br />
I took my mom with me to get the MRI. After an hour of knocking, tapping, and loud sounds in a tiny tube, I was done. They printed films for me and told me to take them to my doc.<br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj7DKTCsXDMv-k49QjWkf2ofp_72O6pHkDNj8LwOU0MG9xP7RsL2k_uEZKAAd64pcnMFXsmiFlZhpvxIeZes7MoJuxyXrtIlvZkUs_PkIHT-t1itpLjxzTTj3i74bQD5Nv6A34EBaPQtdI/s1600/MRI+8th.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj7DKTCsXDMv-k49QjWkf2ofp_72O6pHkDNj8LwOU0MG9xP7RsL2k_uEZKAAd64pcnMFXsmiFlZhpvxIeZes7MoJuxyXrtIlvZkUs_PkIHT-t1itpLjxzTTj3i74bQD5Nv6A34EBaPQtdI/s1600/MRI+8th.jpg" height="362" width="400" /></a></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
my 1st MRI</div>
<br />
As my mom and I sat in the car that day, looking at the MRI films we both got quiet when we got to the mid-brain. We knew enough to recognize the white spot wasn't quite right. Tears slid down our cheeks as we told each other not to get too worried yet, and that the Lord would help, no matter what.<br />
<br />
Upon following up with my doctor, he referred me to an endocrinologist, who was the wackiest doctor I've ever met. He could see we were nervous, so upon entering, he reached out and slapped my husbands knee while making a loud duck noise, like Donald Duck. That was his greeting! But he's really quite great. The visit was very thorough - he was so on the spot. He guessed that my 'episodes' were vaso-vagal, that it was likely a cyst and not a malignant tumor, and that the side effects are permanent for some people. He also explained that most aren't able to have more kids with this type of pituitary trouble (wow) and directed me to find a neurosurgeon specializing in pituitary tumors, and rathke's cleft cysts. <br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj4TIio-SkRvn1UAQpdVA1z2-HwoMhVm34DzOGMljpxFSrdSxGSvOGV9ZDkaeBXYSXumMje1sTgFEyAhzxveX9TFfXRgHVCTILZIYrAXsu0vhjbh13DurfaGldi8sLF6eQAJZk7Ukx_O-8/s1600/IMG_6256.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj4TIio-SkRvn1UAQpdVA1z2-HwoMhVm34DzOGMljpxFSrdSxGSvOGV9ZDkaeBXYSXumMje1sTgFEyAhzxveX9TFfXRgHVCTILZIYrAXsu0vhjbh13DurfaGldi8sLF6eQAJZk7Ukx_O-8/s1600/IMG_6256.JPG" height="300" width="400" /></a></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
So I had a tumor. And it would need to be operated on. Ok. That was a lot to take in. Dan sometimes let a trace of worry cross his face, but he never faltered in his calm and assurance that things would work out. I was not so certain. It felt like dooms day. My kids were my main concern, but I had all kinds of rational and irrational fears. I knew that I wouldn't die, yet somehow I had to come to terms with my mortality. That is an idea that took months to get used to.<br />
<br />
As I was telling the news to my best childhood friend, she suggested that I get in contact with our dear friend Brooke, whose husband was a neurosurgeon intern at the University of Utah. I did, and he looked over the MRI scans I sent in an email. He got me an appointment right away to see his very busy and prestigious boss, who happens to be the best neurosurgeon in the Western US specializing in pituitary tumors. I can't help but think that was divine intervention (thank goodness for good people) helping me.<br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
</div>
Dr. Couldwell let us know gently that this wasn't a small band-aid situation, but that the surgery was 'minimally invasive' with a potential for side effects. He asked if I wanted to have surgery. I suppose I could've chosen the other option of likely blindness and worsening symptoms, but was quick to say yes. <br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjan_Ef1_xfvNO9hJU96LicjAnoH-zy4YUXR6_PbwEomZVnHBCDs2aFCPQ5jXbCH84RG1qUx0jHKfQXB5sL0uAyHAYRMgyqJepcHpT5Bmo9o_AP2DOcn355WjopouGuETqYXnQuBRu4WQ0/s1600/IMG_6781.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjan_Ef1_xfvNO9hJU96LicjAnoH-zy4YUXR6_PbwEomZVnHBCDs2aFCPQ5jXbCH84RG1qUx0jHKfQXB5sL0uAyHAYRMgyqJepcHpT5Bmo9o_AP2DOcn355WjopouGuETqYXnQuBRu4WQ0/s1600/IMG_6781.JPG" height="241" width="400" /></a></div>
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
</div>
After that we entered a whirlwind of preparation for the coming surgery and recovery. We explained to our sweet kids in all the ways we could think of that Mommy was about to have her brain fixed, but of course they didn't get it. The feeling that my body was going to pieces all too young plagued me. My husband and I had only been married for 8 years, and we had 3 <i>little</i> kids. This was no time to be falling apart. I couldn't help but worry about how my little family would fare, especially if something went wrong in surgery. I went between feelings of utter confidence and being prepared to feeling totally untethered in a wind storm.<br />
<br />
I suppose the gravity of the situation set in when I was at my pre-op appointment. After gathering all the blood samples (like 15) and information they could about my history, my wonderful nurse teared up and told me she wished that hard things didn't happen to good people like me. But to my surprise she also reassured me and said God would help me through this. Her kindness touched me and knowing she dealt with brain surgeries all the time, I was really moved that she felt for my family.<br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="http://cache3.asset-cache.net/xt/103725280.jpg?v=1&g=fs1%7C0%7CDOR%7C25%7C280&s=1" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="http://cache3.asset-cache.net/xt/103725280.jpg?v=1&g=fs1%7C0%7CDOR%7C25%7C280&s=1" /></a></div>
<br />
<br />
The day of surgery was there quickly and I found myself in a gown in a waiting room. My husband was especially sweet and gentle, and my mom (who insisted on being there to help my Husband should any sticky decisions need to be made - and to support him) was encouraging and kind. We said a prayer together, and I felt ready for it. Until the attending physician came. He had to read the risks of the surgery and then the anesthesiologist did too. I tucked those possibilities aside, and they wheeled me away.<br />
<br />
Read part 2 - the continuation of this post here (coming very soon)<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0