tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-67018327080719734832024-03-21T17:11:52.123-07:00The White FamilyAnghttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09907483300700619493noreply@blogger.comBlogger43125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6701832708071973483.post-9904179374008528522011-07-31T17:56:00.000-07:002011-07-31T18:11:44.721-07:00Fireworks<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi_VLIeKI8lOEoBeq9VkSWwwkiLSbaz91JpSzhj6cO2ROmWAHcVAjJwtqtdxYENzvULMqw44lLkpjqx_yufu6u49KtqAoGk-XlNmfiYIiVRise-QGf4ej-B1H1gm0elmId48TQf1RUv6mk/s1600/IMG_4529.jpg" onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 296px; height: 400px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi_VLIeKI8lOEoBeq9VkSWwwkiLSbaz91JpSzhj6cO2ROmWAHcVAjJwtqtdxYENzvULMqw44lLkpjqx_yufu6u49KtqAoGk-XlNmfiYIiVRise-QGf4ej-B1H1gm0elmId48TQf1RUv6mk/s400/IMG_4529.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5635688831352584466" /></a><br />Colton is three and can be-how can I put it?- my trial at church. I've been talking to him throughout the week about how we act at church. We talk about words like quiet, reverence, whisper, sit still......<div><br /></div><div>Jody was home sick and I sat, the lone adult, with all the children on the pew. It went from bad to worse pretty quickly. Colton was rocketing off laps, blasting across the aisle, and showering the congregation with his giggles, you-can't-catch-me squeals of delight, and screams of protest when caught. </div><div><br /></div><div>I managed to snag him as he shot by, made my lap his prison, and whispered in his ear:</div><div><br /></div><div>"Colton we need to be reverent. Remember?"</div><div><br /></div><div>"Yes"</div><div><br /></div><div>"Do you remember what reverent means?"</div><div><br /></div><div>"Yes"</div><div><br /></div><div>"What does it mean?"</div><div><br /></div><div>"FIREWORKS!!"</div><div><br /></div><div>"No, it means to sit quiet and still. Right?"</div><div><br /></div><div>"No. It means FIREWORKS!"</div><div><br /></div><div>Aaahh...this explains quite a lot:) </div>Anghttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09907483300700619493noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6701832708071973483.post-50018398250538550652010-11-16T21:15:00.001-08:002010-11-16T21:15:49.391-08:00My Girl<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'trebuchet ms', verdana, arial, sans-serif; font-size: 13px; border-collapse: collapse; color: rgb(51, 51, 51); line-height: 18px; -webkit-border-horizontal-spacing: 2px; -webkit-border-vertical-spacing: 2px; ">This title has been hanging here, lonely, for entirely too long. I didn't mean for the title to post. I was trying to write, but I just didn't know how to say it all. We were still at the hospital, in the thick of it, and I couldn't settle on any words. How could I say how very, very sad I was and still sound faithful, hopeful, acknowledge that the Lord is in charge? Exhaustion and worry hung in the air, clawing at my emotions. And so I didn't write, couldn't write. </span><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'trebuchet ms', verdana, arial, sans-serif; font-size: 13px; border-collapse: collapse; color: rgb(51, 51, 51); line-height: 18px; -webkit-border-horizontal-spacing: 2px; -webkit-border-vertical-spacing: 2px; "><br />Now we've been at home for nine days, and I'm drawn to write. She is doing beautifully, recovering faster than anticipated. Her headaches are controllable, which is a major improvement. She smiles, paints Brooklyn's nails, hangs out with Conner in his room, laughs with Amber, and asks when she can go back to school. Prayers are being answered and I am grateful beyond words. So why are there moments when I still feel like exhaustion is weighing down on me; the worry permanent, constant and sometimes paralyzing? </span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'trebuchet ms', verdana, arial, sans-serif; font-size: 13px; border-collapse: collapse; color: rgb(51, 51, 51); line-height: 18px; -webkit-border-horizontal-spacing: 2px; -webkit-border-vertical-spacing: 2px; "><br />Braelyn doesn't remember much about being at the hospital. This is a blessing because Pain was a large portion of her time there. But she does remember hearing me cry that first day when I was calling family. She remembers me crying when they told us she had a 6-7 inch fracture in her skull. She wonders why I was crying. Seriously, she wonders why I was crying? This is my girl. My first baby, my only daughter for 12 long years. From the ages 2-5 I spent collective hours tickling her back, playing with her hair to help her fall asleep at night. Now I was spending hours every day stroking her hair, softly touching her face, legs and arms (while Amber spent literally hours standing behind her hospital bed massaging her head) to help her stay as relaxed as possible when the medicine refused to offer the desperately needed relief. </span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'trebuchet ms', verdana, arial, sans-serif; font-size: 13px; border-collapse: collapse; color: rgb(51, 51, 51); line-height: 18px; -webkit-border-horizontal-spacing: 2px; -webkit-border-vertical-spacing: 2px; "><br />I need to say that I do understand that while this was difficult, heart rending, and emotionally/physically/spiritually draining, it wasn't tragic. My girl came home. My girl will still grow up smart, beautiful, talented and righteous. She may have a few bumps in the road, but her goals and dreams are all still within her reach. There was a little girl brought in to the PICU while we were there who had been pulled out of the family pool. Her room was just around the corner and I could see her parents standing vigil at the end of her bed for three days. On Friday morning when I came back from one of only two nights away from Braelyn (thank you Amy and Melissa), the room was empty. That little girl didn't go home. Not too her earthly home. And my heart ached for them. Prayed for them. And I prayed for my girl.</span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'trebuchet ms', verdana, arial, sans-serif; font-size: 13px; border-collapse: collapse; color: rgb(51, 51, 51); line-height: 18px; -webkit-border-horizontal-spacing: 2px; -webkit-border-vertical-spacing: 2px; "><br />I prayed because I believe. I believe in the promises, love, and comfort of my Savior, Jesus Christ. I believe that my Heavenly Father knows me, knows Braelyn, and is always listening. I believe that atonement offers balm not just for the sorrows of sin, but for all of our sorrows. I believe that while I can have my moments of worry and sadness, those emotions don't say who I <i>really</i> am. Who I really am, or who I am truly striving to be, is a disciple of Jesus Christ. I love Him, I try and follow Him, and I put my faith and trust in Him. When trials come, I know that I am being given an opportunity to show where I stand. Fear or Faith. Trust or Doubt. Love or Anger. I believe that our family is being given an opportunity to grow, to be shaped and molded, to learn more about Him and grow closer to Him with the deeper realization of our personal need for Him. </span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'trebuchet ms', verdana, arial, sans-serif; font-size: 13px; border-collapse: collapse; color: rgb(51, 51, 51); line-height: 18px; -webkit-border-horizontal-spacing: 2px; -webkit-border-vertical-spacing: 2px; "><br />Braelyn sustained a severe concussion, a fractured skull, contusions in both of her temporal lobes and her right frontal lobe. The one in the frontal lobe will leave a scar on her brain, which may cause seizures at some point. There are several other small bleeds throughout her brain. Her kidneys were bruised and bled for several days. Some problems with her short term memory and impulse control could be a part of her life for a time while her brain heals. Her sense of smell may be diminished (really, if you had to choose a sense to be impaired....). Headaches are probably here to stay.</span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'trebuchet ms', verdana, arial, sans-serif; font-size: 13px; border-collapse: collapse; color: rgb(51, 51, 51); line-height: 18px; -webkit-border-horizontal-spacing: 2px; -webkit-border-vertical-spacing: 2px; "><br />And yet, she will heal. For all the small moments of worry, there were long hours of peace and calm. Reassurance came through priesthood blessings, priesthood leaders, and personal revelation. I am so thankful for the gospel of Jesus Christ. I am thankful for the fasting and prayers by so many people, some we know, many we don't. I am thankful for amazing ward members and neighbors who stepped in and took over daily tasks so we could focus on Braelyn. I am thankful for friends an</span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'trebuchet ms', verdana, arial, sans-serif; font-size: 13px; border-collapse: collapse; color: rgb(51, 51, 51); line-height: 18px; -webkit-border-horizontal-spacing: 2px; -webkit-border-vertical-spacing: 2px; ">d family who came and sat with me, cried with me, and cared for Braelyn with me. I love you all.</span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'trebuchet ms', verdana, arial, sans-serif; font-size: 13px; border-collapse: collapse; color: rgb(51, 51, 51); line-height: 18px; -webkit-border-horizontal-spacing: 2px; -webkit-border-vertical-spacing: 2px; "><br /></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'trebuchet ms', verdana, arial, sans-serif; font-size: 13px; border-collapse: collapse; color: rgb(51, 51, 51); line-height: 18px; -webkit-border-horizontal-spacing: 2px; -webkit-border-vertical-spacing: 2px; ">I am thankful to Jody for being my rock, for being the one I get to lean on and cling to. There is no one I'd rather have by my side. </span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'trebuchet ms', verdana, arial, sans-serif; font-size: 13px; border-collapse: collapse; color: rgb(51, 51, 51); line-height: 18px; -webkit-border-horizontal-spacing: 2px; -webkit-border-vertical-spacing: 2px; "><br />Braelyn got the clearance today to try and go back for half days and see how she does. Her faith is amazing. She keeps telling me that she always knew she would be fine. She moves forward with faith, trusting in the Lord. I want to be just like her. Just like my girl.</span></div>Anghttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09907483300700619493noreply@blogger.com5tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6701832708071973483.post-65425013430789834452010-03-09T19:44:00.000-08:002010-03-09T22:40:02.828-08:00Lost MOMMYAt 8:00 p.m. on a typical Wednesday night, I found myself in a dilemma. I had been promising my boys a trip to Walmart(ugh). Walmart because one of them had a gift card there, and there were also some supplies we needed for our new adventure into the world of home schooling. I had broken my promise several times because things kept coming up unexpectedly. My most recent promise had been "Wednesday night. I'm sure that will work. Right after dinner." Of course, one thing led to another, and it was already 8:00. Family prayer was called, and after the Amen all my kids jumped up and said "We're ready!" I had thought it was a given that we WEREN'T going. We'd had prayer, by jove! It was 8:00! Brooklyn and Colton were already in pajamas! But those pleading eyes, hands pointing to feet that had shoes tied and ready to go, tugged at my heart strings and I gave in. <div><br /></div><div>Seven children headed excitedly to the van, and I dragged my tired, weary mind and body to the drivers seat and we were off. I should mention, we were outfitted for Walmart. Cannon was wearing one of his most awful shirts, which had layers of dirt and dinner proudly displayed across the front. His face was a map of meals and snacks from the day. Brooklyn and Colton were in oversized t-shirts and mismatched pajama pants, no shoes. The others looked only slightly better. And me...well, I looked like someone who had spent my day chasing this wild group and had never quite caught up. </div><div><br /></div><div>After spending a good thirty minutes on the same three toy aisles, I was mentally congratulating myself on my unselfish decision to bring them. My thoughts were interrupted by the ring of my cell phone. It was one of my best friends, a kindred spirit, seeking a little consolation and commiseration on the joys and trials of being the leader of a large and demanding brood. Toys selected, supplies collected, I summoned them all to follow me to the grocery side of the store, all the while talking and laughing with my friend. At some point during my trip across the store I thought I heard my name over the speaker. I strained to hear, but it didn't seem to be for me. Rounding the corner that dropped me off at dairy, I noticed that Cannon had NOT rounded the corner. "Cannon? Cannon?" Oh dear. While talking about the "not so great" moments of motherhood, I found myself smack dab in the middle of one of those "moments". I quickly said goodbye and organized my posse. "Conner and Cooper, retrace our steps. I'll look on this side. Little kids stay with me...." My words just hung there in the open air, because the two younger boys had already bolted, determined to hang with the big guys. I was stuck with two full carts, a toddler in each, thinking, "great, now I'm missing five children". </div><div><br /></div><div>I must admit, I was momentarily paralyzed. I was planning my next move. Did Conner and Cooper even know the little boys were following them? What if they were separated? And where in the world was Cannon? How long had he not been with us? How was I going to get us all together again? I wasn't really panicked, or even very nervous. I was just on thought overload. My thoughts were once again interrupted as I heard the loud speaker calling:</div><div><br /></div><div>"Attention, Attention, we have a <span class="Apple-style-span" style="color:#339999;">LOST MOMMY</span>. Will Angela White please report to customer service. We have a <span class="Apple-style-span" style="color:#339999;">LOST MOMMY</span>."</div><div><br /></div><div>So, picture this. I haul myself, along with the two full carts with pajama clad, shoeless babies up to claim my status as <span class="Apple-style-span" style="color:#339999;">LOST MOMMY</span> of one filthy (but still amazingly cute) red head. Apparently they had been calling me for some time, and Cannon had come to the conclusion that I must not be there anymore. He confidently explained to the workers that he should call his dad, because he knew his cell phone number. (Don't worry, I've since taught him mine!). Just as I came up he was finishing these instructions to his dad:</div><div><span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space:pre"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color:#6600CC;"> </span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color:#6600CC;">"Um, Dad...Could you please call Mom and tell her she left me at Walmart?"</span></div><div>Cannon caught sight of me, said "never mind", hung up the phone, and ran to hug me. His little eyes betrayed the false bravado, and I hugged him to me tightly. Both women behind the counter were talking at me, telling me how many times they'd called me. Brooklyn and Colton were loudly and joyfully exclaiming that Cannon had been found. We were quite a scene. Then the thumping sound of eight feed pounding, running quickly, filled my ears. Four more voices added themselves to the cacophony, each trying to relate their version of their search for Cannon. We were quite the sight. Pretty much the perfect stereotype of a large family at Walmart. </div><div><br /></div><div>I felt everyone's eyes upon us, heard the whispering back and forth, as we proceeded to check out...kids grabbing their toy selections, finding things that were unknowingly placed in my cart, discussing why we were definitely not buying checkout aisle candy at 9:30 p.m., please stay over here, NO you may not "run to the bathroom real quick" (like I'm letting us get separated again), stop pushing, please don't touch the cash register, stop spinning the bag holder....</div><div><br /></div><div>However, our moment of infamy was short lived. As we were leaving firefighters came in and were helping a man lying down between two checkouts. I felt badly for him and sincerely hope he was okay, but was glad for the opportunity to quietly slip out the door and try to regain my dignity. </div><div><br /></div><div>I didn't like being a <span class="Apple-style-span" style="color:#339999;">LOST MOMMY</span>. I like them knowing right where I am, stepping on my heels, begging for things with high fructose corn syrup, and adding interesting things to my cart while I'm not looking!</div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div>Anghttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09907483300700619493noreply@blogger.com8tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6701832708071973483.post-26490302834988183432009-10-20T20:58:00.001-07:002009-10-20T21:35:41.841-07:00Random<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhFKqOluavi1GCABvzHtsGrqmKCtnbhGN3sGs9ES3-GgBOXzXMtO0rVHc56MXwlOfy5Frl4WRYKKHsTBHvQMvtlAF6MQeRCjLOaGVJBmOA2NNE4K9Onku-wDCX-g1DCok4niaHjasIli0Q/s1600-h/IMG_1727.JPG"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 267px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhFKqOluavi1GCABvzHtsGrqmKCtnbhGN3sGs9ES3-GgBOXzXMtO0rVHc56MXwlOfy5Frl4WRYKKHsTBHvQMvtlAF6MQeRCjLOaGVJBmOA2NNE4K9Onku-wDCX-g1DCok4niaHjasIli0Q/s400/IMG_1727.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5394903188890778802" /></a>I love my brother Alex. I love that he is amazingly good at math. I love even more that he's willing, at a moments notice, to take a detour on his way home from a long day of school and work and come tutor my daughter, while his beautiful wife Bridget (who just happens to be one of the nicest people one could ever meet) waits for the dinner and movie they planned on for the evening. Yea! for super smart brothers. And super nice brothers. I have five of them, and I count myself hugely blessed.<br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgcYezBpab0sOnnrrHXib-a0kUwdVmvtBf8BYySySKm4zpe_36FZe4cYMRmh6noPppVLNXm6msIH_asiXztFGWfyJQ_pzuA8JXAeJaPNBr3ksfsnI7LdYrudGcIzcgmgB-QNU5OR5vJJFs/s1600-h/IMG_1730.JPG"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 267px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgcYezBpab0sOnnrrHXib-a0kUwdVmvtBf8BYySySKm4zpe_36FZe4cYMRmh6noPppVLNXm6msIH_asiXztFGWfyJQ_pzuA8JXAeJaPNBr3ksfsnI7LdYrudGcIzcgmgB-QNU5OR5vJJFs/s400/IMG_1730.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5394903179500434226" /></a>Braelyn won't be thrilled that I posted this picture, but in all fairness to her, who expects a flash to go off during family home evening opening prayer? I was opening my eyes to see if my kids were <i>closing</i> theirs, and I saw Brooklyn and couldn't resist. I REVERENTLY got up, and REVERENTLY took this picture, and then REVERENTLY closed my eyes for the remainder of the prayer. I fall in love with Brooklyn all over again about every twenty seconds or so all day long. <br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg0JALj7KXON2RWcGjxTEJe9sxYXUkWukRv1dsgJAUZDwmvDTocuMsxwrU6Mty1gfMMlIKYCzTUo0W1-XZ8WwUhnHlq5n0UUB4EooSJ7kpfb06t4EAI7BcpjCnLXvHaocvIRrnoBUlOEcA/s1600-h/IMG_1757.JPG"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 267px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg0JALj7KXON2RWcGjxTEJe9sxYXUkWukRv1dsgJAUZDwmvDTocuMsxwrU6Mty1gfMMlIKYCzTUo0W1-XZ8WwUhnHlq5n0UUB4EooSJ7kpfb06t4EAI7BcpjCnLXvHaocvIRrnoBUlOEcA/s400/IMG_1757.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5394903170285795314" /></a>Brooklyn got all her "hair stuff" and treated Braelyn to a head massage (if you call a two year old jamming clips into your scalp a massage) and some hair beautification.<br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjKwWzVZdW-gSqLxs_2ls6HH8r5Gf2dl3bPH7dYMsbV6p5XKEqhsL9C0OTg-2rtrcZGS6X9D7-1RNX1fbjWdl5I8XeYciaqYEPK2vxO987zUSZHKnf8_YlahhONAwPSVw4sgG53I2_w3xw/s1600-h/IMG_1777.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 267px; height: 400px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjKwWzVZdW-gSqLxs_2ls6HH8r5Gf2dl3bPH7dYMsbV6p5XKEqhsL9C0OTg-2rtrcZGS6X9D7-1RNX1fbjWdl5I8XeYciaqYEPK2vxO987zUSZHKnf8_YlahhONAwPSVw4sgG53I2_w3xw/s400/IMG_1777.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5394903161122609666" /></a>Braelyn returned the favor. They are twelve years apart, but they are as tight as sisters come.<br /><div style="text-align: center;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: center;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color:#0000EE;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style=""> <span class="Apple-style-span" style=""> <span class="Apple-style-span" style="color:#000000;"><br /></span></span></span></span></div>Anghttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09907483300700619493noreply@blogger.com8tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6701832708071973483.post-31860088337298686902009-09-07T11:41:00.001-07:002009-09-07T11:43:06.655-07:00Discovery #3<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh6lVkA6iKF6j91EA_6kBPeVv9RmmvKDVDOxLMRm3skxzR8m6ai-_fGmeKIzI7q2PmDz6tVS1Nuhl8KiX70mBIex2oobW-RZWMW5M1rLSabMdW1N_FGvQZxgpjps-zRpCRp6kfr9Q0VJ7Y/s1600-h/IMG_1685.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 267px; height: 400px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh6lVkA6iKF6j91EA_6kBPeVv9RmmvKDVDOxLMRm3skxzR8m6ai-_fGmeKIzI7q2PmDz6tVS1Nuhl8KiX70mBIex2oobW-RZWMW5M1rLSabMdW1N_FGvQZxgpjps-zRpCRp6kfr9Q0VJ7Y/s400/IMG_1685.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5378797907098517170" /></a><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi4kQu_CjrmA85J9IFIWgc5Ri8FmGEXdKshDRGDO3Z7WJdxDM3LO5dBwd_d0PN-G9Yd5-2Qb_vxAaQs2I-PmUO4pvOSjge9ZqTFMPuvhozwW1Dp07jv08l_gnZ4-nT-VKv9sNnlcKDXhhI/s1600-h/IMG_1687.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 267px; height: 400px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi4kQu_CjrmA85J9IFIWgc5Ri8FmGEXdKshDRGDO3Z7WJdxDM3LO5dBwd_d0PN-G9Yd5-2Qb_vxAaQs2I-PmUO4pvOSjge9ZqTFMPuvhozwW1Dp07jv08l_gnZ4-nT-VKv9sNnlcKDXhhI/s400/IMG_1687.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5378797895705086018" /></a><br /><div>My girl has naturally curly hair now. And while that might not seem impressive, let me tell you, it is. You just have to believe me on this one. When she was little I would bathe her, then put <i>a lot</i> of gel in her hair, wrap her hair in small sponge rollers, and torture her by making her sleep on them. The next day I would take them out and she had the most lovely curls. Tight, gorgeous curls all over her precious little head. I'd spray, and spray, and spray, and maybe spray again, to make sure they stayed. I'd hold my breath and hope that maybe this time, the result would be different. But no, within an hour it would be a soft, large, gentle curl. Within two, it would look like I had taken a flat iron to</div><div>it (although at the time I'd never heard of a flat iron). I'm telling you, there was no product or implement out there that would make her hair hold a curl. And now just look at her. Jody doesn't appreciate it AT ALL. And as for me, I'm a little bit jealous!</div><div><br /></div>Anghttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09907483300700619493noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6701832708071973483.post-43082018757802937422009-09-07T11:40:00.001-07:002009-09-07T11:41:17.746-07:00Discovery #2<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjjHw0iokyMaZeP-GwVlW0c-ACw_XjMExJ4X3jo4-Q2LQ2OgFAOw3FXLaarcXzupBb8EYIpeqOOsvdKXO-ZluOubjkyvpVevw9vu0FbPSwglDLLs4wQR11aoqlUoh21ph6kucC1gqaFTAw/s1600-h/IMG_1711.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 267px; height: 400px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjjHw0iokyMaZeP-GwVlW0c-ACw_XjMExJ4X3jo4-Q2LQ2OgFAOw3FXLaarcXzupBb8EYIpeqOOsvdKXO-ZluOubjkyvpVevw9vu0FbPSwglDLLs4wQR11aoqlUoh21ph6kucC1gqaFTAw/s400/IMG_1711.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5378797358917824258" /></a><br /><div style="text-align: center;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color:#FF6600;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: x-large;">Spaghetti and Red Heads are a Perfect Match!</span></span></div>Anghttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09907483300700619493noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6701832708071973483.post-42406442611281975872009-09-07T11:35:00.000-07:002009-09-07T11:40:04.846-07:00Discovery #1<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi8YB9xGJpnJZGUaXykMKZwsryujIJ1b5J_o2yTkMKm_8X6YS2R6kEIbjDtOO8UC7uJ1gSsgVRlE_llTtfkxR5cm_-NDBgU50ekavHSHhJZqzxNimcUuB3YgNM8EDA48a3kpXqlEQjNZP0/s1600-h/IMG_1715.JPG"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 267px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi8YB9xGJpnJZGUaXykMKZwsryujIJ1b5J_o2yTkMKm_8X6YS2R6kEIbjDtOO8UC7uJ1gSsgVRlE_llTtfkxR5cm_-NDBgU50ekavHSHhJZqzxNimcUuB3YgNM8EDA48a3kpXqlEQjNZP0/s400/IMG_1715.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5378796724128108098" /></a><div style="text-align: center; ">When you move out to the "country" and have cow pens at the back of your property, you just never know when someone might leave the gate open and THIS will be the view out the master bedroom window when you wake up.</div><div style="text-align: center;"><br /></div><div><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjtAMOCPxPfwz3QDs4Dek5vqpvod-qq2_xAplJhbRMEJWD32of2bfqP4oTInprsye85_m6NMTa6L_6m0KdJFSpYTbdBEPHAPIQV3k4tnHKC36k57VWFjFjM2FvX-odtxtYquV_W7IMPEIg/s1600-h/IMG_1718.JPG"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 267px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjtAMOCPxPfwz3QDs4Dek5vqpvod-qq2_xAplJhbRMEJWD32of2bfqP4oTInprsye85_m6NMTa6L_6m0KdJFSpYTbdBEPHAPIQV3k4tnHKC36k57VWFjFjM2FvX-odtxtYquV_W7IMPEIg/s400/IMG_1718.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5378796716923114034" /></a><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjPrRoUIve_1wMzNXa5uayy8tyZlPnme8F_0kn2VZwKP1IceDTeyL-PRYDaJLrdIN04FWiNulYC1zarOAvUh1wReN2VNvsxCf-hqZEhdz6UmbgOIDcOj-8bj40Bt33tmR54Til-ncMhv_E/s1600-h/IMG_1719.JPG"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 267px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjPrRoUIve_1wMzNXa5uayy8tyZlPnme8F_0kn2VZwKP1IceDTeyL-PRYDaJLrdIN04FWiNulYC1zarOAvUh1wReN2VNvsxCf-hqZEhdz6UmbgOIDcOj-8bj40Bt33tmR54Til-ncMhv_E/s400/IMG_1719.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5378796707346678802" /></a><div style="text-align: center; "><br /></div><div><div><br /></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color:#006600;"><br /></span></div><div>This provided a lot of morning excitement for everyone, but I think Jody was the most excited of all. If you look closely, you'll see the tail end of a bull whip in the second picture. Hands down the happiest day of the year for him, the day he received that bull whip. And today has to be right up there. When we saw the cows practically on the porch, we shared a little laugh and called the kids. Then all of a sudden, Jody's expression changed. A glint in his eye, determination in his countenance and a call for...the whip. "Cooper, bring me the WHIP!" Oh the happiness that came from having a real, valid, reason to own a bull whip! (Not that he really cares if he has a<i>reas<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-style: normal; "><i>on</i> or not) He pulled that baby out and started cracking it, and darn it all if it didn't work. Those cows jumped and ran straight for the pens. Who knew that a bull whip and two curious cows could make my man so happy. I swear he stood two feet taller when he walked back towards the house.</span></i></div><div><br /></div></div><br /></div>Anghttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09907483300700619493noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6701832708071973483.post-21161103842340254922009-09-03T17:04:00.001-07:002009-09-03T17:23:37.194-07:00Priceless<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgc8dUhPwE-6nqW-4jeuOwDGbAfGi7UwYKfBOduH_DNI8TTL8bZ8VQqUL6TI10hVIzWYTklHWWjYL1d_XhwbZ11umLTA5Cifdg25yAScRrmyku2Qar2cYGxl8Txvj1Hsq1ay33Bu76toc8/s1600-h/IMG_1721.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 267px; height: 400px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgc8dUhPwE-6nqW-4jeuOwDGbAfGi7UwYKfBOduH_DNI8TTL8bZ8VQqUL6TI10hVIzWYTklHWWjYL1d_XhwbZ11umLTA5Cifdg25yAScRrmyku2Qar2cYGxl8Txvj1Hsq1ay33Bu76toc8/s400/IMG_1721.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5377396531077843986" /></a><br /> <b><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:x-large;">"Mom, will you please remind me that I lost a tooth?"</span></b><div><br /></div><div>May I just say, this boy is the cutest thing ever.</div>Anghttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09907483300700619493noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6701832708071973483.post-45009522261392777292009-09-01T18:17:00.000-07:002009-09-01T18:40:04.891-07:00ConversationsThese conversations entertained me, and I've got to write them down so that someday when I'm old (in like ten years or so) and my kids say "did I ever say anything funny?" I'll be able to come up with something.<div><br /></div><div><img style="float:left; margin:0 10px 10px 0;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 267px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjUSaHH33jzMIFRuRZNueWdC5mGzK0PhnbAhDGOwBy8ya8TYhP-fuzPN3qypEZSPQXFVbdroOSS_PKA05OCNBLgwDESZjr-On1JBVXlAMipFdOBYbEoirkUW3H9fXziOUU3-W5CgOkkb2c/s400/IMG_1559.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5376678366016913202" /></div><div>(Doing homework with Crew)</div><div>Me: Crew, you are reading so well! I can't believe how good you're getting!</div><div><br /></div><div>Crew: (Smacks his hand on his forehead) Aahh! Cooper just asked me if I could read and I told him no. I better run find him and tell him I can!!!</div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color:#009900;"><br /></span></div><div>(The boys are into running on the trampoline in socks so that they can build up static electricity and shock each other. I know, I know. Boys.)</div><div><br /></div><div>Crew: I always run out of shocks so fast! Cooper and Conner have way more shock power. I think it's because their socks are furrier. My socks just run out of juice <i>so fast!</i></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color:#009900;"><br /></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color:#009900;"><br /></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color:#009900;"><br /></span></div><img style="float:left; margin:0 10px 10px 0;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 267px; height: 400px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiAqUygKo1iLiVeJo6QKKtNwDxTZf0abi_lw3mhUs44_uuhF7GdhuaIJO5pjNVBwfsHUFi290TD58WgyI_mP_OxOQQcNXHQ7DBuLpf8WPnOuI3maKQ8OQdvMhuQcc6sgIaSIXD4gflUnbI/s400/IMG_1662.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5376678026499022002" /><div>Me: Cannon, I'm so glad you've been getting a green light everyday at kindergarten. And I'm really glad that you are being such a good friend to the other kids in your class.</div><div><br /></div><div>Cannon: Yeah mom, I'm a really good friend. I don't hit them, or kick them, or throw rocks or even sticks at them!</div><div><br /></div><div>Watch out for that boy. His definition of a "good friend" is pretty broad. </div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div>Anghttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09907483300700619493noreply@blogger.com6tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6701832708071973483.post-4733687063940593812009-08-18T10:29:00.000-07:002009-08-18T11:03:15.646-07:00252 Times<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgStwDA4azoTiH96vOSTa5IxA2MNl-uuoGyzT21fPKrCjnyNGOD2oE_cQivxLp_2i7lINynMYGUo77iwc3_XxwsmBC03cL-zKHobf6p9DR-JnHME_hyphenhyphenYmBwuunSuYL6aBrlpCA_y28QtZA/s1600-h/IMG_0160.JPG.jpeg"><img style="float:left; margin:0 10px 10px 0;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgStwDA4azoTiH96vOSTa5IxA2MNl-uuoGyzT21fPKrCjnyNGOD2oE_cQivxLp_2i7lINynMYGUo77iwc3_XxwsmBC03cL-zKHobf6p9DR-JnHME_hyphenhyphenYmBwuunSuYL6aBrlpCA_y28QtZA/s400/IMG_0160.JPG.jpeg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5371365735806771906" /></a><br />About ten years ago I went to a parenting class. The man was supposed to be a great speaker with a lot of great ideas. I only remember one solitary thing from the class. Someone posed the question "What do you do when your child is whining at you, repeating the same thing over and over?". His answer was "All you have to do is quietly continue to do what you are doing, and ignore the whining." Sounds simple enough. But I knew from personal experience this didn't work. So I got brave and raised my hand and said, "But my little girl doesn't stop. She just follows me wherever I go and continues to whine". He said, "You just aren't giving it enough time. Here, let's give everyone an example." He then asked me to get up and role play with him, me being the whining child and he being the parent. I followed him around the room trying my best to imitate a whining toddler. He just kept walking around and I started to feel foolish, and I eventually gave up. He turned to me with enthusiasm and said "See!!" I wanted to tell him that a toddler doesn't have an audience of adults watching, nor do they have the social awareness to be embarrassed by their actions, thus the exercise wasn't really a comparable situation. But he seemed so pleased with himself and I was still feeling embarassed so I went and sat down.<br /><div><br /></div><div>Fast forward a few years.</div><div><br /></div><div>This morning I dropped of the elementary kids at the bus stop and it was just me, Brookie and Colton in the car. Brooklyn had been happy, but something triggered her whining switch, and she began to say"I...want..my..daddy" "I...want..my..daddy" "I...want..my..daddy" </div><div>"I...want..my..daddy" "I...want..my..daddy" "I...want..my..daddy" .....</div><div><br /></div><div>You get the idea. I tried many tactics. </div><div>"Brooke, look at the horses!" nothing</div><div>"Brooke, look at that purple car. How silly!" still nothing</div><div>"Brooklyn, where's your baby doll? Let's go home and get her dressed!" nada</div><div>and the gold star of parenting, "Brooklyn, do you want a treat when we get home?" </div><div><br /></div><div>This girl was serious. And out of the blue, this memory of the parenting class came to my mind and I figured I might as well try. So I calmly continued to drive, trying to ignore the whining that was shooting directly into my right ear. I couldn't believe her stamina. I decided it would be fun to count how many phrases she could fit into one minute. It was an average of twenty one, depending on how long she dragged out the word 'daddy'. I have timed the drive home- it is twelve minutes. She didn't stop until we were in front of our house. So 12 x 21 is <span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:x-large;">252.</span> She repeated herself<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:x-large;"> 252</span> times. I've got to hand it to her. On some level, that is impressive. </div><div><br /></div><div>But I would like to find that man and tell him that boy was he wrong. </div>Anghttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09907483300700619493noreply@blogger.com6tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6701832708071973483.post-68787256274762896912009-08-05T13:42:00.000-07:002009-08-05T13:51:47.314-07:00Ms. SchmidtCrew has always had a difficult time with names. And he frequently gets words mixed up. It makes me laugh daily. Not in a "making fun" of way, but in a "I could hug you forever and ever" kind of way. A few recent examples:<div><br /></div><div>Crew: Mom, I'm just going to pop (hop) over the fence and ring their ring-bell.</div><div><br /></div><div>Crew: Dad, Meesha got out again today. Did you clob (clog) up all the holes in the fence?</div><div><br /></div><div>Mom: Crew, don't go to first grade. I'll miss you too much.</div><div>Crew: That works out fine for me. I hate phonogram test-es.</div><div><br /></div><div>Mom: This is Uncle Alan's car.</div><div>Crew: Uncle Alan? I don't think I've ever heard of him.</div><div><br /></div><div>There are so many more, but I'm drawing a blank. But today was my favorite. It was the two little boys turn to go school shopping with me. (and can I just say, it is SO unlike me to leave this til the last minute....I mean EXACTLY like me....) I try and make it a fun day- we get lunch together and try and laugh and have fun. So we were sitting and eating lunch and this is the conversation:</div><div><br /></div><div>Mom: Crew, your new teacher's name is Ms. Schmidt.</div><div><br /></div><div>Crew: Sch.... what?</div><div><br /></div><div>Mom: Schmidt</div><div><br /></div><div>Crew: (thoughtful and slow) Sch....it..m (I'm so embarrassed to even write this! and of course Crew has no idea that this is a not nice word.)</div><div><br /></div><div>Me laughing</div><div><br /></div><div>Crew: Hopefully she'll let me call her something else. I don't think I can say that.</div><div><br /></div><div>Unless things improve I hope they let him call her something else too!</div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div>Anghttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09907483300700619493noreply@blogger.com6tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6701832708071973483.post-30320655450723219232009-07-28T08:56:00.000-07:002009-07-28T13:29:44.910-07:00Oh What Do You Do in the Summertime<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjNrGU_NXf6jvWTpWAvjlZsKAGRaMlpn_s8M0glAZNMvYeK_QKN1o3B5z5z98ed814DfCZEmXC3PJYTMGteV9Gottw9hjY-ZLAKLDPrEANqi9LXHxXUlYgD5R3XwvEV0SnBS9z2zDeLyYQ/s1600-h/IMG_1603.JPG"><img style="float:left; margin:0 10px 10px 0;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 267px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjNrGU_NXf6jvWTpWAvjlZsKAGRaMlpn_s8M0glAZNMvYeK_QKN1o3B5z5z98ed814DfCZEmXC3PJYTMGteV9Gottw9hjY-ZLAKLDPrEANqi9LXHxXUlYgD5R3XwvEV0SnBS9z2zDeLyYQ/s400/IMG_1603.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5363542046759174594" /></a><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEidmP-EIk2T8MatDnrKqEEjWKreIM0Jl7sOsa1PU1g2IS_XxYyWeWRj7LLmvsOgfVC2LXO_qg1y3IRTxJl5IWeuJcTWfCEWYauUErvX573ITvvbY5BYh1DWx9awdX1syidO1QmKMEST6mE/s1600-h/IMG_1602.JPG"><img style="float:left; margin:0 10px 10px 0;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 267px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEidmP-EIk2T8MatDnrKqEEjWKreIM0Jl7sOsa1PU1g2IS_XxYyWeWRj7LLmvsOgfVC2LXO_qg1y3IRTxJl5IWeuJcTWfCEWYauUErvX573ITvvbY5BYh1DWx9awdX1syidO1QmKMEST6mE/s400/IMG_1602.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5363542040649199570" /></a><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgbUVtSwGxocQEKO2ABBL1X1aKBvurtAUqit8Ab8rgQD2J4lrYquCUU4dRUTKdAoIG-JjtgEDEfXODAN-3wRaO-JMbp_jGNW7ToSnHghQUyF-oKOa4K4IH0NdSMCY3XLNhPHCWXyt8DjDs/s1600-h/IMG_1601.JPG"><img style="float:left; margin:0 10px 10px 0;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 267px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgbUVtSwGxocQEKO2ABBL1X1aKBvurtAUqit8Ab8rgQD2J4lrYquCUU4dRUTKdAoIG-JjtgEDEfXODAN-3wRaO-JMbp_jGNW7ToSnHghQUyF-oKOa4K4IH0NdSMCY3XLNhPHCWXyt8DjDs/s400/IMG_1601.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5363542037168559202" /></a><br /><br /><img style="float:left; margin:0 10px 10px 0;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 267px; height: 400px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiBBuZhF1YA1B-qNP6sef4P4O2p5Q-Hb0uv53ZBSoWvOznWXqZXcg2Qla-yC03kO2K_elAVb-M2VP1MuqzNtx8BimMqmg3I__pElSIxp53SjTdnh5Aqa65mvNGHJjm5W2hjzLvyi_xcN3U/s400/IMG_1600.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5363542026772056994" /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgLucuqdEvM3hdMci0UAsoHezeoP7wO2qHnBSufHJnnbglKl9H8UnAdMCbhNKEV9D_AMU_NpCbDX3OENeD_1vDxq_MNZ41NNtOmuEqrGa4rrg-gkq5fJwKGRXZR33LkEaqjUo-rnJw1jSo/s1600-h/IMG_1599.jpg"><img style="float:left; margin:0 10px 10px 0;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 267px; height: 400px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgLucuqdEvM3hdMci0UAsoHezeoP7wO2qHnBSufHJnnbglKl9H8UnAdMCbhNKEV9D_AMU_NpCbDX3OENeD_1vDxq_MNZ41NNtOmuEqrGa4rrg-gkq5fJwKGRXZR33LkEaqjUo-rnJw1jSo/s400/IMG_1599.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5363541320165039378" /></a><br /><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:large;">....when you don't have a<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:x-large;"> </span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color:#3366FF;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:x-large;">POOL</span></span><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:large;">....and it's blasted</span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:x-large;"> </span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color:#FF9900;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:x-large;">HOT</span></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color:#FF9900;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:x-large;"><br /></span></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color:#FF9900;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:x-large;"><br /></span></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color:#FF9900;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:x-large;"><br /></span></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color:#FF9900;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:x-large;"><br /></span></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color:#FF9900;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:x-large;"><br /></span></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color:#FF9900;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:x-large;"><br /></span></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color:#FF9900;"><br /></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color:#FF9900;"><br /></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color:#FF9900;"><br /></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color:#FF9900;"><br /></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color:#FF9900;"><br /></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color:#FF9900;"><br /></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color:#FF9900;"><br /></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color:#FF9900;"><br /></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color:#FF9900;"><br /></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color:#FF9900;"><br /></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color:#FF9900;"><br /></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color:#FF9900;"><br /></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color:#FF9900;"><br /></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color:#FF9900;"><br /></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color:#FF9900;"><br /></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color:#FF9900;"><br /></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color:#FF9900;"><br /></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color:#FF9900;"><br /></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color:#FF9900;"><br /></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color:#FF9900;"><br /></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color:#FF9900;"><br /></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color:#FF9900;"><br /></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color:#FF9900;"><br /></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color:#FF9900;"><br /></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color:#FF9900;"><br /></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color:#FF9900;"><br /></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color:#FF9900;"><br /></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color:#FF9900;"><br /></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color:#FF9900;"><br /></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color:#FF9900;"><br /></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color:#FF9900;"><br /></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color:#FF9900;"><br /></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color:#FF9900;"><br /></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color:#FF9900;"><br /></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color:#FF9900;"><br /></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color:#FF9900;"><br /></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color:#FF9900;"><br /></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color:#FF9900;"><br /></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color:#FF9900;"><br /></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color:#FF9900;"><br /></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color:#FF9900;"><br /></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color:#FF9900;"><br /></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color:#FF9900;"><br /></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:large;">Get a </span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color:#009900;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:x-large;">$10</span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:large;"> </span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color:#000000;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:large;">slip n' slide</span></span></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:large;">A</span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:large;"> <span class="Apple-style-span" style="color:#993399;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:x-large;">BUCKET</span></span></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:large;">and a </span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color:#CC0000;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:x-large;">HOSE</span></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color:#CC0000;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:x-large;"><br /></span></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:x-large;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color:#3333FF;">Voila! I just saved myself <span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:x-large;">$40,000!!!</span></span></span></div>Anghttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09907483300700619493noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6701832708071973483.post-55862141690585443892009-07-25T08:57:00.000-07:002009-07-25T09:34:00.517-07:00Feeling like a Pioneer<div style="text-align: center;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: center;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: center;"><br /></div><img style="float:left; margin:0 10px 10px 0;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 93px; height: 127px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgZqHxWqsYA99TqE-CV9Bb11_zbT-UU3stMFjeGBlVS1KDrhO6ZDWt0VGYpNh41BoX-gD19Onjwgmx8gRDL0AKz8wuQOOxUZvqGMPOWB8z7atwW3WhTQAQsAkftOT_BY6RIc-sn4YdTIKQ/s400/images.jpeg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5362428462958429186" /><br /><img style="float:right; margin:0 0 10px 10px;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 120px; height: 96px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiaivqwCI601q_LtBf7d9AV78dodLnGu9uGKsF6avp_m-LYF3Fifw4adoY3YUaC2nJUklV6qJJ8OQzFG04s497jadWKYFjI_c-8HBveTJj6Eh5uGnXDyuYsFSTq-eUmjMFdUJ7p8M0KJ-s/s400/images-2.jpeg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5362429231365069250" /><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 126px; height: 85px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiY8Ftr_9wwMkYmdS8Y8sXoF9KNmxOS4izPMa9Ua1pjBNaysaVDNhHO6kmcl3jzN6hzyyKxggklQzh78sfLm-XEfXssGeuPbHxdDGgiBF6s0JcHU8YfkMNgQP1xIlQvetXJROS_QdyNYEw/s400/images-4.jpeg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5362429974325276690" /><div style="text-align: center;"><img style="float:left; margin:0 10px 10px 0;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 143px; height: 104px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgoxQsCrUy5knkgdKGG6E-7R2qYzWFOJgrjsbMDcDnSSUhP_RjeD1ewdltgyHF_Ftop0ss9WhPhJxgcOzbkCIz5D9lH4XiZ1c41pdlyVFlFHfaJohs60OaBc_C9PTx6IDVZvHkRhnlBpGc/s400/images-3.jpeg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5362430330423621554" /></div><div style="text-align: center;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: center;"><br /><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 143px; height: 107px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhqZ8YV_ojM8p6-ntXvgCy_wSeo2p3XQluHAH8JBwfgJQNIZl6xM5V1T_hs3GoXW2qiyasE5iC0sqQ2mtSOZe6AZfWsEGTkR4antcsf_jO5RVJBl_IINGIEWN0dwsDcMP67GA27CYtVN9Y/s400/images-1.jpeg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5362428940505274242" /></div><div style="text-align: center;"><br /></div><div><br /></div><div><div style="text-align: center;"><br /></div></div><div><br /></div><div style="text-align: center;"><br /></div>Oh how I wish I had my own pictures to go with this post. Cameras would have been useless for the pioneers-there's not a blessed second during all the mixing, shaking, seperating, kneading etc. to stop and take a picture. Next time I'll assign one of my brood to be the photographer. <div><br /></div><div>Our neighbor brought over a gallon jar of fresh cow milk. Now, I could have dumped it down the drain and returned the jar with a thank you note and he would never be the wiser. (Food is a mental thing for me-it's hard to get over some things and just be willing to try it) But seeing as how Jody is going to buy a milk cow, I figured it was time to see what I am really made of. </div><div><br /></div><div>I let it sit in the fridge until the cream rose to the top. Then I skimmed off all of the cream and put it in the fridge for later. With a multitude of children surrounding me, we began pasteurizing the milk, which would make it taste like store bought milk (theoretically). Everyone one was so excited to try the milk- except Brae, she was a little skeptical. Moans of disappointment followed when I told them we'd have to wait until morning so it could get cold again. Maybe they were just disappointed because they'd been trying to buy a few extra minutes before bed time. Highly probable. Jody and I finished the process and I felt surprisingly accomplished!</div><div><br /></div><div>The next morning was the test. They all ate it with cereal and most even drank a glass. Success! Unfortunately, there was none left for me to try. (I was really okay with that- still a little bit of a mental block). Braelyn and I started researching old fashioned methods of making butter. Apparently shaking it in a jar like every child has done at a Primary Activity is a very viable method. But did you know you're supposed to let the cream sour first? We set it out on the counter for the day.</div><div><br /></div><div>Friday night at about 8:00 we started making the butter. The kids and I all took turns shaking, shaking, shaking. I guess the more cream, the more shaking, because boy we were getting tired. We poured off all of the buttermilk, rinsed the butter, added a little salt, and we all tried it on a slice of bread. Delicious! (although next time we'll skip the shaking and let the Bosch do the work!)</div><div><br /></div><div>Saturday morning I woke up and ground some wheat for some homemade bread, shaping three loaves. I saved the last of the dough to make scones for breakfast. Scones with our freshly ground wheat and freshly made butter. Wow! Those pioneers must have walked around feeling great about themselves, because I know I do right now!</div><div><br /></div><div>Of course, I've done enough work that I don't feel like doing the dishes (in my dishwasher), or washing the laundry (in my washing machine), or cleaning the floors (with my vacuum cleaner). I do however want a nice long hot shower, a book, and my big comfortable couch.</div><div><br /></div><div>Hmmm....maybe I wouldn't have made it as a pioneer.</div>Anghttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09907483300700619493noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6701832708071973483.post-23065708320419546572009-06-30T09:35:00.000-07:002009-06-30T09:47:34.992-07:00Favorite Moments of the day...so far**Husband waking me up with a kiss and saying "<span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: rgb(255, 102, 102);">good morning beautiful</span>", which he does every day. Dang I'm <span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: rgb(255, 102, 102);">lucky</span>.<div><br /></div><div>**Laying on my bed with <span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: rgb(51, 102, 255);">two little boys</span> cradled on either side of me, reminding them that they were <span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: rgb(51, 102, 255);">best of friends in heaven</span> and they chose to be here together. (So stop the fighting already!)</div><div><br /></div><div>**<span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: rgb(0, 153, 0);">Babies </span>when they wake up. Need I say more?</div><div><br /></div><div>**<span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: rgb(204, 0, 0);">Hugs</span> from little sleepy eyed girls in pajamas. This is a fix I need every single day. Which is why I wonder how I'll ever survive not having little ones around. </div><div><br /></div><div>**Kids saying they're<span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: rgb(102, 102, 0);"> bored</span> and it's not even 9:00 a.m. Yikes. Could be a <span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-style: italic;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: rgb(102, 102, 0);">l o n g</span></span> day.</div><div><div><br /></div><div>**<span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: rgb(204, 204, 255);">Braelyn</span> reading to <span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: rgb(204, 204, 255);">Brooklyn</span>, all cuddled up on the couch. Makes me heart ache.</div><div><br /></div><div>Have I mentioned I love my family?</div></div>Anghttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09907483300700619493noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6701832708071973483.post-25431362624332709092009-06-26T16:51:00.000-07:002009-06-27T09:31:16.214-07:00ThursdayWhy does 6:00 a.m. sometimes feel like 3:30 a.m.? I mean really, it felt like an absolutely unearthly hour and I wasn't too happy about having to get up and moving. The boys were headed out to play racquetball and needed to be up, dressed, fed, and out of the house by 6:40. I'm usually a morning person and can perk up pretty quickly. I guess mornings like this are meant to give me some sympathy for people who aren't exactly "morning people", because we have a few of those over here. It's not like they don't get up early, but the rest of us usually try and steer clear until they seem to be out of zombie mode.<div><br /></div><div> I dragged my pajama clad body to the kitchen, only opening my eyes every four or five steps so I could make sure I was still on the right path. I was trying not to talk until I was sure only nice words would come out. Struggling to clear the cobwebs from my brain, I concentrated on breakfast. Why do these people have to eat so often? Why am I out of cold cereal? Why are people making noise? I loudly shushed everyone. Didn't they know my plan? It was way to many words to form at this level of consciousness, but I had every intention of the babies sleeping through all of this so I could steal a few more precious moments myself after they left. I tried to communicate all of this with the intensity of my "SHHHHH!!!" That combined with the manic look on my face seemed to get my point across. Whole wheat pancakes (please don't be impressed, I did not grind the wheat myself- it was Lehi Mill's add water only) made with my eyes half closed, forcing my lids open when I thought it was time to flip, soothed my slight guilt about the consuming thoughts of getting them OUT of the house and me back IN bed. At least I made them a good breakfast, right?<div><br /></div><div>Once they all had shoes on, breakfast in, racquets out, I practically ran to my room. Jody was tying his shoes and seemed to be a little surprised that I dove back into bed and pulled the covers over my head. (This isn't all that usual for me). Then I heard it- the dreaded noise of a baby crying right when I was on the verge of slipping back into dreamless bliss. Jody must have noted the panic on my face because before I knew it he had deposited Brooklyn, with blanket and paci (I know, I know) next to me and I soothed her back to seep with a whispered princess story. We were dozing off when I heard the last set of footsteps and the click of the door closing. </div><div><br /></div><div>Brookie cooperated long enough to let me get an extra 30 or 40 minutes. The other two were still sleeping, so we breakfasted together, just the girls. Boys still sleeping. Then we showered and got dressed. Boys still sleeping. Then we did our hair. Boys still sleeping. Read a book. Boys still sleeping. A glance at the clock let me know it was about time to pick up the boys. We woke up the little boys, fed them, and threw them into the car, syrupy pajamas and all, and off we went. </div><div><br /></div><div>I called Jody to say good morning (I don't think I had found anything particularly good about the morning earlier, and don't think I muttered more than ten words) and that's when I noticed the police car behind me. This is also when I recalled that I hadn't stuck the new registration sticker on. No problem, I do have the paper in my car showing I paid. It's right there with the proof of insurnace. There, in that cubby. But wait, why is that cubby...empty? Then it hit me. I had the car detailed a few days before and they had put everything they found in each nook, cranny, shoved between seats, and the cubby with important papers, in a big plastic garbage bag. Believe me, it had to be big. I had taken it into the house to sift through it, and there it still sat- on the floor in the laundry room. How was I going to explain this? The police car mimicked my left turn and then my lane change. This wasn't looking good. A mile down the road and him still on my tail, I was preparing my defense. "Really officer, the car wash story is true. I have eight kids. The three days after I have it washed are the <span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-style: italic;">only</span> days my car looks this clean. The papers are in that bag I was telling you about. You know, the one with the old school papers, fruit snack wrappers, primary talk slips (remember that paper I gave you mom?), the rock hard chicken nugget and other unidentifiable pieces of food. If you follow me to the racquetball courts and then back home, I'm pretty sure I could dig them out for you!" Still in my lane and directly behind me another mile later, I was starting to feel annoyed. Pull me over already! Let's just get this over with! I hate being pulled over. I feel like a little girl who just got spanked. Not that I was spanked as a little girl, but it's how I imagine I'd have felt. Suddenly, he changed lanes and turned the other direction. Whew! Dodged that bullet.</div><div><br /></div><div>The rest of the day progressed nicely. Caden and I went to Brooklyn's swimming lessons where we got to watch her scream in terror and anger every time it was her turn. There she would flail, just under the surface of the water shaking her head "NO" as Emily would tell her to kick to the side. Man that girl is stubborn. I held my breath every time it was her turn and spent the time in between holding and comforting her, trying not to think about the very large wet spot she left on my lap which made me look like I'd had a very large accident. Apparently terror, anger, and swimming are a very exhausting combination, because she fell asleep on the way home. The afternoon was surprisingly peaceful. I even got some time to lay on the couch and read my latest book, "A Tale of Two Cities"(thanks Amy). My kids didn't even disturb me when I dozed off for a few minutes. When nap time was over we went to my mom's to go shopping in her pantry. They're leaving for Africa next month and she wants her pantry empty, and I was happy to oblige. The evening turned into one of those spontaneously fun ones. Jody met us there and we ended up staying for hours. We ate dinner together under the misted ramada, enjoying the unusually cool and breezy June night. We sat and visited until past bedtime. When we pulled into the driveway the little ones were sleeping. We cradled them straight to their beds, had family prayer, and all hit the sack. </div><div><br /></div><div>What started as a not so great day turned out....perfect.</div></div>Anghttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09907483300700619493noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6701832708071973483.post-39757111973640681982009-06-22T16:40:00.000-07:002009-06-22T17:07:20.590-07:00Heart & Home<div><br /></div><div> <img style="border:1px solid;" src="http://tbn1.google.com/images?q=tbn:UEGVAOVN17_2sM:http://quiltingpassion.com/blocks/shapes/hearts.jpg" width="127" height="117" /> <img style="-webkit-user-select: none" src="file:///Users/angelawhite/Desktop/images.jpeg" /><img style="border:1px solid;" src="http://tbn1.google.com/images?q=tbn:UEGVAOVN17_2sM:http://quiltingpassion.com/blocks/shapes/hearts.jpg" width="127" height="117" /> <img style="border:1px solid;" src="http://tbn1.google.com/images?q=tbn:UEGVAOVN17_2sM:http://quiltingpassion.com/blocks/shapes/hearts.jpg" width="127" height="117" /></div><div><div><br /></div></div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div>It's been so long since I posted. The problem with that is that there are so many things that have happened, things I wanted to get on the blog, but finding the time to catch up is a trick. So I'll save catching up for another day, and just get on with a few thoughts....<div><br /></div><div>Last week was the first week I've had any downtime since before we moved. After the move I was always on the go, with kids in three different schools in three not close locations, four if you include preschool. And I was okay with that. I didn't want to disrupt their schooling for the last seven weeks of school. It just meant that there was rarely any time to be home. I mean, I was home sometimes, but not <span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-style: italic;">home...</span> Then the flurry of the last weeks of May-it really was mind boggling crazy, those few weeks. Then I jumped right into teaching Music Theater, which is jam packed with fun, but a whole lot of late nights and extra hours. So last week I was done being a family bus driver, done teaching amazing kids to sing, dance, and light up a stage, and my heart could center on home.</div><div><br /></div><div>"Home will be where the heart is"...one of my favorite lines from Beauty and the Beast. And yet, as I sat home on my first quiet (with eight kids this words is all relative:) day I realized that my heart has been longing to be home. Actually <span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-style: italic;">home</span>. Sitting on the couch and listening to my children's conversations. Noticing how when I am merely sitting, the children are the happiest. They know they can have my attention at their beck and call, giving them a sense of stability and happiness like nothing else. Brooklyn and Cannon running off to play in his room, but returning every few minutes to animatedly tell me every minute detail of what they are doing. Spontaneous hugs and kisses from everyone, random "I love you"s. Older kids that just want to come and sit next to me. </div><div><br /></div><div>I love being involved in projects and activities. But there is such a fine line. These years are going so quickly and I don't want to spend so much time with my heart overcommitted to outside things that home gets squeezed out. Of course my heart always deep down wants to be home, but I can often say yes to so many things that I unintentionally give away all the pieces before I realize what is happening. Then there is that plain old reality--laundry to be done, dishes to be washed, shopping to do, lessons, scouts, mutual, callings... These can't be avoided. But I know the deep peace and happiness I felt on that day needs to happen more often in my life. I love my family more than anything and I want to give them the very best of me. I am incredibly blessed and I want my kids one day to look back and realize that my home is where my heart is. </div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div>Anghttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09907483300700619493noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6701832708071973483.post-70371149339140737882009-05-14T16:40:00.000-07:002009-05-14T17:41:00.357-07:00Our House<div style="text-align: center;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: rgb(0, 0, 238); text-decoration: underline;"><br /></span></div><div>Okay, so here are a few pictures of our new house. Nary a picture on the wall, a window dressed, or surface adorned. But there will be time for that later. I don't know exactly when "later" is, except that it is after "now". We are happy, yet still feeling the loss of a ward and neighbors (especially the next door ones) that we love and are so comfortable with. Jody said it best in his last testimony in our ward- we have fasted with you, prayed with you, laughed with you...we know those bonds will be created here too, but man we loved our life over there in Crismon Creek.<div><br /></div><div>p.s. there are curtains on one window, but it was like that when we got here!</div></div><div><br /></div><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEilW3u4TfDNf-moTcncXSOl_b822WKmMKi2oC9jmkEqDjZF4hiQrC69WES3TrBOUOTDRYrRsRPWg0L-KLunX0YqCqeN351lHlepF0jnTJXaOgDofJDiDrWdTTRL44TbVkCIrezr5wMwCig/s1600-h/IMG_1129.JPG"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 267px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEilW3u4TfDNf-moTcncXSOl_b822WKmMKi2oC9jmkEqDjZF4hiQrC69WES3TrBOUOTDRYrRsRPWg0L-KLunX0YqCqeN351lHlepF0jnTJXaOgDofJDiDrWdTTRL44TbVkCIrezr5wMwCig/s400/IMG_1129.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5335842374600649026" /></a><br /><div style="text-align: center;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: rgb(0, 0, 238); text-decoration: underline;"><br /></span></div><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 267px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj5UDmQH4obQlcxF7m-gEu3I8T_qm8IgVAOze0x2fHCAo8okkGtG6jU_8BQd8h1NgjXw6N1Y8tmPYbosBSOAlB-FgZPay-LsE4RDKPk5-9By3FMUyP-hmWE750FmKSqbopjogrsFkA96WI/s400/IMG_1131.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5335841245821789826" /><div style="text-align: center;">This kitchen has plenty of room for all the helpers I usually have.</div><div style="text-align: center;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: center;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: center;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: rgb(0, 0, 238); "><img src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjt6GPejENh5g1QrOWr_9h4UG-uaSexOo6LdxxWfX7BTtxB-eAyXVQYdKw8YF-BITuTE-HE3EwMymXxq5nmP64Zi2sAsHNICJ_2gYDiSGcjOx9m5bDIqTFf2jEn-SwuALonurcb73LZ9dc/s400/IMG_1144.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5335842846227856642" style="display: block; margin-top: 0px; margin-right: auto; margin-bottom: 10px; margin-left: auto; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 267px; " /></span></div><div style="text-align: center;">From the kitchen looking into the Family room.</div><div style="text-align: center;"><br /></div><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 267px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiGk3Z1mmhqXAWNppWM7LNV037XD5dENJwRGSUr8tVFqBkoGJjn6mHOsiqffsaJXt6WcLd6K7YfR1tEysJPCADFUa8vv1zRThEDzhxVoU3ydq7RtyG1Yh2nMsnZ6UQeToX2FQar91Tqjfs/s400/IMG_1134.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5335839148040461618" /><div style="text-align: center;">Family Room<br /></div><div style="text-align: center;"><br /></div><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhpFZ4i95iWSDe9JKaT9OizH80yMIx0UNfhk1wKy90SwyFj9GhkNGjtdF-ROLGF9bBWNdKTNKXUuIrS4mGvNCXWZZHJtvN0KYz-DVPz9dQTmbbk8KFNDw5MZOWYSGST-CtbW5qSXuY4Qz8/s1600-h/IMG_1135.JPG"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 267px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhpFZ4i95iWSDe9JKaT9OizH80yMIx0UNfhk1wKy90SwyFj9GhkNGjtdF-ROLGF9bBWNdKTNKXUuIrS4mGvNCXWZZHJtvN0KYz-DVPz9dQTmbbk8KFNDw5MZOWYSGST-CtbW5qSXuY4Qz8/s400/IMG_1135.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5335839146155256114" /></a><div style="text-align: center;">This room is like an extra part of the family room. Right now it is hosting our year supply until we find a better home for it. We've discovered that a year supply for ten people takes up a lot of room.</div><div><br /></div><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj05U5dS0-B2udNSsiXArubzsFaMFZtrvUC908TOVe-o5t3r1NwlTzlQVLpsQWqwmsvS887ISEwPJQEZkji4cBe1YTSTDZdpLbu1Ujzen5SU9OXZFrOBswwIgU-ttQqNariw-daCgU-JHU/s1600-h/IMG_1136.JPG"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 267px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj05U5dS0-B2udNSsiXArubzsFaMFZtrvUC908TOVe-o5t3r1NwlTzlQVLpsQWqwmsvS887ISEwPJQEZkji4cBe1YTSTDZdpLbu1Ujzen5SU9OXZFrOBswwIgU-ttQqNariw-daCgU-JHU/s400/IMG_1136.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5335838182617680338" /></a><div style="text-align: center;">This room is right of the entry way. It is still a work in progress, as is everything. This is homework central every afternoon. </div><div><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiSCkhROy4wEXJm2nexDNI_iKU1IbQmdI69j2IC9vQoaBtF_dLqygTGw_CjWQCDefoOgiT2c4_tV1W5j_8AYO9pam8Opsuo94H5QyeWb0MT1w4O4yaxZURKLVEgZV5PUkFtPxXvVtupOu8/s1600-h/IMG_1139.JPG"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 267px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiSCkhROy4wEXJm2nexDNI_iKU1IbQmdI69j2IC9vQoaBtF_dLqygTGw_CjWQCDefoOgiT2c4_tV1W5j_8AYO9pam8Opsuo94H5QyeWb0MT1w4O4yaxZURKLVEgZV5PUkFtPxXvVtupOu8/s400/IMG_1139.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5335838176363472962" /></a><div style="text-align: center;">The living room is straight ahead when you walk in the front door. </div></div><div><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiNVDmzxbQGk5Thfcr_cTLMCzK6PBdWnQRPtVZCmV-wYJ2w9-_rzQIr6KYmVna9BWPjTr-yGnkxjtBG4f79vWAZAtjOGsickFGkZ09iibyAyWw8pmFS3BhSxvTNHq39sREwt2R0Ic4PxYo/s1600-h/IMG_1159.JPG"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 267px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiNVDmzxbQGk5Thfcr_cTLMCzK6PBdWnQRPtVZCmV-wYJ2w9-_rzQIr6KYmVna9BWPjTr-yGnkxjtBG4f79vWAZAtjOGsickFGkZ09iibyAyWw8pmFS3BhSxvTNHq39sREwt2R0Ic4PxYo/s400/IMG_1159.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5335837137584352546" /></a><div style="text-align: center;">One shot of the master bedroom...</div><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgsKqNZR5SC-vhnXgruZM5bzH47OqTRgffqnyX3pua8JYZr3ybbexYn2XMia1ujpC5tvFCRnYbLAXHDEOygkPf0U-53jh9reJUnXDPFIUUbVhGeGvS0vrXjli-EKoxvjMJMPrLObJsn3Gg/s1600-h/IMG_1147.JPG"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 267px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgsKqNZR5SC-vhnXgruZM5bzH47OqTRgffqnyX3pua8JYZr3ybbexYn2XMia1ujpC5tvFCRnYbLAXHDEOygkPf0U-53jh9reJUnXDPFIUUbVhGeGvS0vrXjli-EKoxvjMJMPrLObJsn3Gg/s400/IMG_1147.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5335837135719729042" /></a><div><br /></div><div><div style="text-align: center;">These stables are in the back corner of our property, and I believe they helped seal the deal for Jody. Yes, those are cows- not ours, a neighbors, but Jody has big plans....</div><div style="text-align: center;"><br /></div><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg8IdQTGOOuHAezjyuX_oz2lWOvilVGWkYyZZ8riY22l8zjSOnVj9_QzV9chAVeDJptIYsCErk7cxihI2RbD-ACMgEnlUo3UWPsLTNZuGVCTQBPEmF3Qc3SmqQffxZ2dx39b8SMFZacXJM/s1600-h/IMG_1146.JPG"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 267px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg8IdQTGOOuHAezjyuX_oz2lWOvilVGWkYyZZ8riY22l8zjSOnVj9_QzV9chAVeDJptIYsCErk7cxihI2RbD-ACMgEnlUo3UWPsLTNZuGVCTQBPEmF3Qc3SmqQffxZ2dx39b8SMFZacXJM/s400/IMG_1146.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5335837129350261090" /></a></div><div><div style="text-align: center;">This is the view from the back porch.</div><div style="text-align: center;"><br /></div><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhQTGLTIPhu1RwVFm-32OY8oZOHlTDEOxSOiNwBcbHkIbpO-7xLgtq3wG64BytlCDEMSv7koHuEs8vVX5eSlHplGOTUcxDSkP0okW_0yUntmYT6SJ_lhc-FDzdObh1PgBDWXUGOz6uIvw8/s1600-h/IMG_1143.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 267px; height: 400px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhQTGLTIPhu1RwVFm-32OY8oZOHlTDEOxSOiNwBcbHkIbpO-7xLgtq3wG64BytlCDEMSv7koHuEs8vVX5eSlHplGOTUcxDSkP0okW_0yUntmYT6SJ_lhc-FDzdObh1PgBDWXUGOz6uIvw8/s400/IMG_1143.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5335835212318095106" /></a><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjw3VfuY4LGuwgQ8GnntDwDl7klnUuQuHvBtQ2AU0dMGtUxW3zsbLcwvUJCHNgGaUSKUl9mH4BwLZlmLKVzoKXe03i63mm_GJa3xOKWVuI17u3BTOaQGT2jiri3gA386EWIFXJ7ID64Xo8/s1600-h/IMG_1142.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 267px; height: 400px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjw3VfuY4LGuwgQ8GnntDwDl7klnUuQuHvBtQ2AU0dMGtUxW3zsbLcwvUJCHNgGaUSKUl9mH4BwLZlmLKVzoKXe03i63mm_GJa3xOKWVuI17u3BTOaQGT2jiri3gA386EWIFXJ7ID64Xo8/s400/IMG_1142.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5335835208115909602" /></a><br /><div><div style="text-align: center;">The laundry room still needs some organization, and these pictures really don't do it justice. It also didn't help that it had flooded earlier in the afternoon (notice all the cords), but this room makes me HAPPY! There are so many cabinets, a huge closet, room for a second fridge, definitely a deal clincher for me, as was the huge pantry. I couldn't get a good picture of the pantry, but it was built with a large family and food storage in mind:)</div><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi3sCfADQJjZag7FhaeYi0LrDuilv93WE_aDiCoFG-xMIwrgLbfe8YG7TCZURYRvxgYs4nbcFJJrl2ouwSGKAbZS6nxgk4XZJvEk5Ov-FFylkp958vJO0dHJh8UroV34nyGbZg28MkGYiw/s1600-h/IMG_1163.JPG"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 267px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi3sCfADQJjZag7FhaeYi0LrDuilv93WE_aDiCoFG-xMIwrgLbfe8YG7TCZURYRvxgYs4nbcFJJrl2ouwSGKAbZS6nxgk4XZJvEk5Ov-FFylkp958vJO0dHJh8UroV34nyGbZg28MkGYiw/s400/IMG_1163.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5335833916365932162" /></a><div style="text-align: center;"><br /></div><div><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiT7Acupl0RZroqsSjkjiCs25Dygi4kLo_YSNbNT3iDzOItpdnC5yxA-RckrwwBCOntveNTPHSI5kR_suq7SkXRNARR6JYhkL-Zigjq76jEyRGagTqFED1-U9JhQe3Nd0m0AHkOligB2o8/s1600-h/IMG_1161.JPG"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 267px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiT7Acupl0RZroqsSjkjiCs25Dygi4kLo_YSNbNT3iDzOItpdnC5yxA-RckrwwBCOntveNTPHSI5kR_suq7SkXRNARR6JYhkL-Zigjq76jEyRGagTqFED1-U9JhQe3Nd0m0AHkOligB2o8/s400/IMG_1161.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5335833911997302706" /></a><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiEfN3RNWjhPyP2xMghywITyVXiwVvPuTKVzGeqvQej1fiGbRiM8fPcw8n9fi6wdI3xyfbfZV3ikWtMvEAxOUz-jNwC4hF5eZuq8oimtkbjWL6TT3yAkItFVksHMGgcvnftjnDm7iZhTkY/s1600-h/IMG_1160.JPG"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 267px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiEfN3RNWjhPyP2xMghywITyVXiwVvPuTKVzGeqvQej1fiGbRiM8fPcw8n9fi6wdI3xyfbfZV3ikWtMvEAxOUz-jNwC4hF5eZuq8oimtkbjWL6TT3yAkItFVksHMGgcvnftjnDm7iZhTkY/s400/IMG_1160.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5335833914763388834" /></a><br /></div><div style="text-align: center;">The master bath was such a bonus. It was not on my list of necessary things to have an amazing master bathroom, but I sure don't mind it!</div><div><br /></div><div><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj_273P10RgenhQOBrR89i7Zro5-TLF72sKLpQk2kBpszVWqU5nUyYPvFNcoCu0ZW80qxDW6JtbDIQlgyYfFSJqmvOh1DxWxX9HOf6vIxUdDRN9K9G4uWAo2CjeJlE8KjsFuR478Ljq79E/s1600-h/IMG_1170.JPG"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 267px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj_273P10RgenhQOBrR89i7Zro5-TLF72sKLpQk2kBpszVWqU5nUyYPvFNcoCu0ZW80qxDW6JtbDIQlgyYfFSJqmvOh1DxWxX9HOf6vIxUdDRN9K9G4uWAo2CjeJlE8KjsFuR478Ljq79E/s400/IMG_1170.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5335833908238879778" /></a><br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjpbR1iuGA-3m5DNiDxQ7QnZg74E4f2BAeVjycRSUttPLaTWh_JZcZgc9iaMFcI40Mqe3WFK49uvLmhsbRlVHdKNIyRB_pmcfmvjIosfTT9IswkgbPMGtJIQDEhi63hmQfAvSweVbe0YV0/s1600-h/IMG_1165.JPG"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 267px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjpbR1iuGA-3m5DNiDxQ7QnZg74E4f2BAeVjycRSUttPLaTWh_JZcZgc9iaMFcI40Mqe3WFK49uvLmhsbRlVHdKNIyRB_pmcfmvjIosfTT9IswkgbPMGtJIQDEhi63hmQfAvSweVbe0YV0/s400/IMG_1165.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5335833899869239586" /></a></div><div><br /></div><div><div style="text-align: center;">I think it is so pretty at night.</div><br />I didn't take pictures of the kids bedrooms- they're still a little boring right now. There are four kids bedroom and two jack and jill bathrooms. One thing that's kind of unique is that the older kids actually have their vanities in their rooms, and then the bathroom they share just has the shower and toilet. It works out well for Braelyn- it gives her her very own space for all the getting ready things that teenage girls have...and since she shares it with a two year old, she pretty much has it to herself. The house has fabulous storage and lots of little things that make it a great fit for our big family. </div></div></div></div>Anghttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09907483300700619493noreply@blogger.com10tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6701832708071973483.post-8578950550813839672009-05-06T14:26:00.000-07:002009-05-06T15:06:52.884-07:00Triple Hooray!<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgzXn0my9paRljpg_oo5TloS66r8uRtf8x8zlBTlJtK4jA5Y4j2KzNrmaviU2MC_6IcTKhEhBWHRsft8-2pLk_MohQm84ftYwmpIXWcORKd_PTdevod2Bc1O3stTB6tA0sEc2bAzvXWh_s/s1600-h/IMG_1003.JPG"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 267px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgzXn0my9paRljpg_oo5TloS66r8uRtf8x8zlBTlJtK4jA5Y4j2KzNrmaviU2MC_6IcTKhEhBWHRsft8-2pLk_MohQm84ftYwmpIXWcORKd_PTdevod2Bc1O3stTB6tA0sEc2bAzvXWh_s/s400/IMG_1003.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5332829652675408642" /></a><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhPq5MfQpfjG538KkF2vti91FlLUbY2fyzYY826VMJ6dFVerYCoxgOQBdBaIvaKMsCyG6KRRNElIeu7Pm4D778DYj1DaSaCNYtkwS_iImA17xjr1BizIgw6Puk-z0tKsiaps5paT59VS88/s1600-h/IMG_0985.JPG"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 267px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhPq5MfQpfjG538KkF2vti91FlLUbY2fyzYY826VMJ6dFVerYCoxgOQBdBaIvaKMsCyG6KRRNElIeu7Pm4D778DYj1DaSaCNYtkwS_iImA17xjr1BizIgw6Puk-z0tKsiaps5paT59VS88/s400/IMG_0985.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5332829639899073506" /></a><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEigA4EKBU11SstlmZ8r8-yS3mDnvXgBz3ky2YYUYqsfSnQEEV0q40AzpXrVRkqLblAMshtK4p2HfE2X9Z28TOFmWiY5WMAaNxk0AlXC-FhrjwaUYm8gxEqbTttpMESLyzI9ysMORWlJJWU/s1600-h/IMG_0986.JPG"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 267px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEigA4EKBU11SstlmZ8r8-yS3mDnvXgBz3ky2YYUYqsfSnQEEV0q40AzpXrVRkqLblAMshtK4p2HfE2X9Z28TOFmWiY5WMAaNxk0AlXC-FhrjwaUYm8gxEqbTttpMESLyzI9ysMORWlJJWU/s400/IMG_0986.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5332829636033076578" /></a><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh6t5t2AnrK5jllvhFwioqxwO9Uf3r_Rp-dh7Yekk12efckL0lPvmT6mDRAH7L5Ol123cfev5O-RjA98Fb13fJ6bIh5OEkat7N8oRARxzGzw4VZYIQpCkfOxO3wPAPgftEHOL2mSF0KyOg/s1600-h/IMG_0988.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 267px; height: 400px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh6t5t2AnrK5jllvhFwioqxwO9Uf3r_Rp-dh7Yekk12efckL0lPvmT6mDRAH7L5Ol123cfev5O-RjA98Fb13fJ6bIh5OEkat7N8oRARxzGzw4VZYIQpCkfOxO3wPAPgftEHOL2mSF0KyOg/s400/IMG_0988.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5332829630550393314" /></a><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhZYmWfqf0P3J9oZezXL2LI2qpj-xb4F-g0gQhQCXeCtzB9iUWMFf8IUm-4fsFo3tmmBxh-F4y-KmwizD8bRHnvKVI-iZoMeYerjHnJybBU1kzAIAedwJ-o58ehF3C9bB3UNzPIcKSEn18/s1600-h/IMG_0992.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 214px; height: 320px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhZYmWfqf0P3J9oZezXL2LI2qpj-xb4F-g0gQhQCXeCtzB9iUWMFf8IUm-4fsFo3tmmBxh-F4y-KmwizD8bRHnvKVI-iZoMeYerjHnJybBU1kzAIAedwJ-o58ehF3C9bB3UNzPIcKSEn18/s320/IMG_0992.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5332828585207896338" /></a><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj_LDIUDtm-GHat88beczr4bc4ayYeALfve-6FBh0RTh7E5SKBvgHlC9pmSLTn8rLkHaVYW-9fLxAZnc_Mh4Mx1LL4JWchoYao0W7FeSB067hdSdxC6e8lCrFXMmqqhlZGSjvyDpmSRc5A/s1600-h/IMG_0995.JPG"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 214px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj_LDIUDtm-GHat88beczr4bc4ayYeALfve-6FBh0RTh7E5SKBvgHlC9pmSLTn8rLkHaVYW-9fLxAZnc_Mh4Mx1LL4JWchoYao0W7FeSB067hdSdxC6e8lCrFXMmqqhlZGSjvyDpmSRc5A/s320/IMG_0995.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5332828580726076082" /></a><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg7xuhzt11WFA99IMj75m2-mpTDDnfT-mIg3m4tnFwG5PrN8sjJ2ApIipUWZMB9Me8YoLF7hyphenhyphen-ewmuILGzo-UuSyZxklmY1htyXB3OtVBv_gZNNNVya7Kym_FSrarHuWJsUVLkbE_He0EM/s1600-h/IMG_1008.JPG"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 214px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg7xuhzt11WFA99IMj75m2-mpTDDnfT-mIg3m4tnFwG5PrN8sjJ2ApIipUWZMB9Me8YoLF7hyphenhyphen-ewmuILGzo-UuSyZxklmY1htyXB3OtVBv_gZNNNVya7Kym_FSrarHuWJsUVLkbE_He0EM/s320/IMG_1008.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5332828570194675314" /></a><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh6X3W2LF6tOSEwtWUout2iG6vY29UN20JCtkpiGEi0GjiXxN4Jk38CyVw5CabniKsu3a75etK1A5FVZ1LwT-tCmW2uyxPBDw-Hkk-BfKJOv9dtU0xeLbCrzNmjS-YuMIVFP9ixG6myGGg/s1600-h/IMG_1001.JPG"><br /><br /><br /><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 214px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh6X3W2LF6tOSEwtWUout2iG6vY29UN20JCtkpiGEi0GjiXxN4Jk38CyVw5CabniKsu3a75etK1A5FVZ1LwT-tCmW2uyxPBDw-Hkk-BfKJOv9dtU0xeLbCrzNmjS-YuMIVFP9ixG6myGGg/s320/IMG_1001.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5332828566122106914" /></a><div><div style="text-align: center;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: center;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: rgb(0, 0, 153); ">Saturday was a </span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: rgb(0, 153, 0);"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:large;">"work"</span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: rgb(0, 0, 153); "> day at our house.</span><br /><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: rgb(0, 0, 153); ">Kids don't always like </span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: rgb(0, 153, 0);"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:large;">"work"</span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: rgb(0, 0, 153); "> days.</span><br /><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: rgb(0, 0, 153); ">What they don't know is sometimes </span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: rgb(255, 102, 0);"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:x-large;">adults</span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: rgb(0, 0, 153); "> don't like </span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: rgb(0, 153, 0);"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:large;">"work"</span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: rgb(0, 0, 153); "> days.</span><br /><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: rgb(0, 0, 153); ">But, we have to pretend we do so that hopefully our good attitudes will be contagious!</span><br /><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: rgb(0, 0, 153); ">We worked long and hard on Saturday.</span><br /><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: rgb(0, 0, 153); ">I thought we were all done.</span><br /><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: rgb(0, 0, 153); ">Then I remembered the state of my car.</span><br /><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:x-large;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: rgb(51, 204, 255);">DISGUSTING.</span></span><br /><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: rgb(0, 0, 153); ">So, I rallied the troops and told them to put their swimming suits on and meet me out front.</span></div><div style="text-align: center;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: rgb(0, 0, 153);">There was water, bubbles, laughter and fun.</span></div><div style="text-align: center;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: rgb(0, 0, 153);">The car got clean-<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: rgb(255, 102, 0);">HOORAY!</span></span></span></div><div style="text-align: center;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: rgb(0, 0, 153);">The kids enjoyed working together-<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:large;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: rgb(255, 102, 0);">DOUBLE HOORAY!</span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: rgb(255, 102, 0);">!</span></span></span></div><div style="text-align: center;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: rgb(0, 0, 153);">We spent good, quality time together on Saturday-<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:x-large;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: rgb(255, 102, 0);"></span></span></span></div><div style="text-align: center;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: rgb(0, 0, 153);"><br /></span></div><div style="text-align: center;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: rgb(0, 0, 153);"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:x-large;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: rgb(255, 102, 0);">TRIPLE HOORAY!!!</span></span></span></div><div style="text-align: center;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: rgb(255, 102, 0);"><br /></span></div><div style="text-align: center;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: rgb(0, 0, 153);">Who said work can't be fun??<br /></span><br /><br /></div><div style="text-align: center;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: rgb(0, 0, 238); text-decoration: underline;"><br /></span></div></div>Anghttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09907483300700619493noreply@blogger.com5tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6701832708071973483.post-44798691229079786612009-04-20T23:02:00.000-07:002009-04-20T23:23:42.283-07:00The HaircutIt is late and I really should be in bed, but instead I'm sitting here to hopefully give my thoughts an opportunity to escape. On nights like this I seem to be held prisoner by thoughts that lead to other thoughts...then other thoughts...and so on. Sleep will come easier when my mind is not so full.<div><br /></div><div>Today I cut Colton's hair. I know-it really shouldn't be a big deal. But to me it is. It's like the final admission that he's not a little baby anymore. (Now, I didn't say these thoughts would be logical, or reasonable). I managed to put it off for awhile with the excuse that the hair cutting scissors were lost. New scissors were purchased several weeks ago. They taunted me from my bathroom counter. I put them into the back of a drawer, trying to drown out the irrational arguments they started in my head. But his hair was getting <span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-style: italic;">so</span> long...I know certain family members put great effort into biting their tongues (thank you for bearing with my oddities). Mentally preparing myself, I've been saying out loud for weeks "we really need to cut your hair!".</div><div><br /></div><div>This morning I just took a deep breath, walked into the bathroom, and did it. Cut his beautiful golden red locks right off. Watched them fall lifeless onto the bathroom counter, saying "I told you so!". And they were right. He looks bigger, older, a handsome little boy, only not so little. </div><div>I thought I would shed a few tears, but surprisingly enough, I was okay. But tonight the emotion comes-- the realization that I won't fight this inner battle many more times. Maybe only once or twice. And then the tears do begin to form, because it's all going so fast. How could my years having babies be that close to an end? I remember when Braelyn was born laying on the delivery table and saying "I can't wait to do this again". I love this part of my life. I am grateful everyday to my Father in Heaven for letting me be a mother, letting this dream come true. I know that I am extremely blessed. <br /></div><div><br /></div><div>I will be okay.</div><div><br /></div><div>I feel a little better already.</div><div><br /></div><div>He is still beautiful.</div><div><br /></div><div>And he is still my baby. </div>Anghttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09907483300700619493noreply@blogger.com8tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6701832708071973483.post-36930370328384227472009-04-15T19:42:00.000-07:002009-04-15T19:48:58.173-07:00Pacifiers and Excuses<span class="Apple-style-span" style=" ;font-family:Times;"><div style="border-top-width: 0px; border-right-width: 0px; border-bottom-width: 0px; border-left-width: 0px; border-style: initial; border-color: initial; margin-top: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; padding-top: 3px; padding-right: 3px; padding-bottom: 3px; padding-left: 3px; width: auto; font: normal normal normal 100%/normal Georgia, serif; text-align: left; "><br /></div><div style="border-top-width: 0px; border-right-width: 0px; border-bottom-width: 0px; border-left-width: 0px; border-style: initial; border-color: initial; margin-top: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; padding-top: 3px; padding-right: 3px; padding-bottom: 3px; padding-left: 3px; width: auto; font: normal normal normal 100%/normal Georgia, serif; text-align: left; "><br /></div><div style="border-top-width: 0px; border-right-width: 0px; border-bottom-width: 0px; border-left-width: 0px; border-style: initial; border-color: initial; margin-top: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; padding-top: 3px; padding-right: 3px; padding-bottom: 3px; padding-left: 3px; width: auto; font: normal normal normal 100%/normal Georgia, serif; text-align: left; "><br /></div><div style="border-top-width: 0px; border-right-width: 0px; border-bottom-width: 0px; border-left-width: 0px; border-style: initial; border-color: initial; margin-top: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; padding-top: 3px; padding-right: 3px; padding-bottom: 3px; padding-left: 3px; width: auto; font: normal normal normal 100%/normal Georgia, serif; text-align: left; "><img class="searchimage" alt="Sassy Mam Trends Silicone Pacifier - Size 2 - 6+ months - Pink/Purple" src="http://cache-images.pronto.com/thumb2.php?src=http%3A%2F%2Fimages.pronto.com%2Fimages%2Fproduction%2Fproducts%2F96%2F6b%2Fdiape06d64183b775940fbae7b453c64_127x69.jpg&wmax=165&hmax=140&quality=100&bgcol=FFFFFF" width="165" height="140" /><span class="Apple-style-span" style=" ;font-family:Times;"><img class="searchimage" alt="Sassy Mam Pearl - Silicone Pacifier- Size 2 - 6+ months - Pink/Purple" src="http://cache-images.pronto.com/thumb2.php?src=http%3A%2F%2Fimages.pronto.com%2Fimages%2Fproduction%2Fproducts%2Fe5%2F8b%2Fdiap77834e98f9a6b5ef8a5d84dad07e_127x67.jpg&wmax=165&hmax=140&quality=100&bgcol=FFFFFF" width="165" height="140" /><img class="searchimage" alt="Sassy Mam Mini Trends Silicone Pacifier - Size 1 - 0-6 months- Pink/Purple" src="http://cache-images.pronto.com/thumb2.php?src=http%3A%2F%2Fimages.pronto.com%2Fimages%2Fproduction%2Fproducts%2Fb3%2Ff0%2Fdiapf370214085eb92024d2bb7749d47_127x74.jpg&wmax=165&hmax=140&quality=100&bgcol=FFFFFF" width="165" height="140" /><img class="searchimage" alt="Sassy Mam Mini Ulti Silicone Pacifier - Size 1 - 0-6 months - Pink/Purple" src="http://cache-images.pronto.com/thumb2.php?src=http%3A%2F%2Fimages.pronto.com%2Fimages%2Fproduction%2Fproducts%2Fc1%2Fb8%2Fdiap54b41d421bdd55a0f4d00b21827e_127x73.jpg&wmax=165&hmax=140&quality=100&bgcol=FFFFFF" width="165" height="140" /></span><br /></div><div style="border-top-width: 0px; border-right-width: 0px; border-bottom-width: 0px; border-left-width: 0px; border-style: initial; border-color: initial; margin-top: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; padding-top: 3px; padding-right: 3px; padding-bottom: 3px; padding-left: 3px; width: auto; font: normal normal normal 100%/normal Georgia, serif; text-align: left; "><br /></div><div style="border-top-width: 0px; border-right-width: 0px; border-bottom-width: 0px; border-left-width: 0px; border-style: initial; border-color: initial; margin-top: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; padding-top: 3px; padding-right: 3px; padding-bottom: 3px; padding-left: 3px; width: auto; font: normal normal normal 100%/normal Georgia, serif; text-align: left; "><br /></div><div style="border-top-width: 0px; border-right-width: 0px; border-bottom-width: 0px; border-left-width: 0px; border-style: initial; border-color: initial; margin-top: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; padding-top: 3px; padding-right: 3px; padding-bottom: 3px; padding-left: 3px; width: auto; font: normal normal normal 100%/normal Georgia, serif; text-align: left; "><br /></div><div style="border-top-width: 0px; border-right-width: 0px; border-bottom-width: 0px; border-left-width: 0px; border-style: initial; border-color: initial; margin-top: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; padding-top: 3px; padding-right: 3px; padding-bottom: 3px; padding-left: 3px; width: auto; font: normal normal normal 100%/normal Georgia, serif; text-align: left; "><br /></div><div style="border-top-width: 0px; border-right-width: 0px; border-bottom-width: 0px; border-left-width: 0px; border-style: initial; border-color: initial; margin-top: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; padding-top: 3px; padding-right: 3px; padding-bottom: 3px; padding-left: 3px; width: auto; font: normal normal normal 100%/normal Georgia, serif; text-align: left; "><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;">Brooklyn still has a pacifier. She </span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-style: italic; "><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;">loves</span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;"> her pacifier. We love that she loves her pacifier. She turned 2 in Feb., which means she is already overdue to be off the pacifier. But you see, I have such good excuses. The thing of it is, they make really cute girl pacifiers. You know, they match the outfit and are shiny and pretty. The mam website itself says </span>"<span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: rgb(36, 87, 165); line-height: 18px; "><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;">Over 50 different colors and prints to choose from make it fun to coordinate MAM pacifiers with babies’ outfits, wardrobe or daily mood. </span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: rgb(0, 0, 0); "><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;">(Daily mood,</span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="line-height: normal; "><span class="Apple-style-span" style="line-height: 18px; "><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;">seriously?)</span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: rgb(36, 87, 165); line-height: 18px; "><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;"> </span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: rgb(0, 0, 0); line-height: normal; "><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;">And it makes it so easy to put her to sleep, quiet her in church, or stop a fit instantly. If you had eight kids and two babies 15 months apart, would you be anxious to take away the one thing that can accomplish all of that? I was actually getting ready to take her off of the pacifier as soon as I was done teaching my class last summer, and before the new baby was born. But then the accident happened, and she needed it. She really did. My poor little girl got a new baby brother and a broken mommy at the same time, and my angel needed something to comfort her. Well, the new baby brother came with a pacifier too. And so it came to pass that Brooklyn realized she had access to pacifiers any time she darn well pleased. We have actually watched her walk in to Colton's room and pluck it out of his peaceful, pouty, sleeping mouth. (She also steals his blanket in the same manner.) We realized that taking her off a pacifier would mean taking it away from the baby, and he was just little. But now she talks. And he is almost one. And it is a little annoying to listen to a toddler talk through a pacifier. And she wants it </span><span class="Apple-style-span" style=""><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;">all</span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;">the time. She will pitifully cry out "Pa--ci--fi--er" in the middle of a tantrum. The kicker was when I was at my moms on Sunday night. I mentioned something about taking the pacifier away from her and my sister in law asked if it was pushing her teeth out. I of course said "No". I mean really, what kind of mother would let her baby have a pacifier to the point of deforming her teeth? "Her teeth came in with a really wide arch" I hear myself saying. It is true, but I know I sounded pretty lame. Amy looked in her mouth and said, "Oh, they are out a little". And then in an even more feeble attempt I say, "They've always been like that". Even as the words come out of my mouth I realize I have a problem. I am in denial. And to Amy's credit, she didn't utter a single word, didn't even smirk. So Monday morning I looked in her mouth, and sure enough, her two front teeth are being pushed forward a little. And so it begins. Taking her off the pacifier. Right now we only use paci's for nighttime. So far so good. I'll let you know how </span><span class="Apple-style-span" style=""><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;">STAKE CONFERENCE (read as <span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-style: italic;">two whole hours</span>)</span><span class="Apple-style-span" style=""><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;"> goes without a paci. We'll bring a lot of fruit snacks and hope for the best!! </span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></div><div style="border-top-width: 0px; border-right-width: 0px; border-bottom-width: 0px; border-left-width: 0px; border-style: initial; border-color: initial; margin-top: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; padding-top: 3px; padding-right: 3px; padding-bottom: 3px; padding-left: 3px; width: auto; font: normal normal normal 100%/normal Georgia, serif; text-align: left; "><br /></div><div style="border-top-width: 0px; border-right-width: 0px; border-bottom-width: 0px; border-left-width: 0px; border-style: initial; border-color: initial; margin-top: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; padding-top: 3px; padding-right: 3px; padding-bottom: 3px; padding-left: 3px; width: auto; font: normal normal normal 100%/normal Georgia, serif; text-align: left; "><br /></div><div style="border-top-width: 0px; border-right-width: 0px; border-bottom-width: 0px; border-left-width: 0px; border-style: initial; border-color: initial; margin-top: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; padding-top: 3px; padding-right: 3px; padding-bottom: 3px; padding-left: 3px; width: auto; font: normal normal normal 100%/normal Georgia, serif; text-align: left; "><br /></div></span>Anghttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09907483300700619493noreply@blogger.com5tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6701832708071973483.post-56527206922478024622009-04-09T10:43:00.000-07:002009-04-09T11:24:05.380-07:005 Things<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-weight: bold; "><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'trebuchet ms';"><div>My friend Sara tagged me about 3 weeks ago, and I am just now getting to this. It seemed like the easiest way to ease back into blogging, because the content and format were already laid out for me, and that's about the level of energy and creativity I can muster right now. If you've talked to me recently I'm sorry for sounding like a broken record, but I am SO tired. I'm afraid I might be tired for the next twenty years. Oh well. My dad promises me I will miss all of this someday, and I choose to believe him. It makes it a lot easier to get through the day, the week, the project, whatever, if you enjoy it while you're doing it!</div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div>5 Things I was doing 5 years ago:</span></span><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'trebuchet ms';"><br /></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'trebuchet ms';">1. Turning 30</span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'trebuchet ms';">2. Delivering my 6th baby, Cannon James-and little did I know how he would change my life:)</span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'trebuchet ms';">3. Happily watching my sister Amy fall in love and get married to her incredible husband Don</span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'trebuchet ms';">4. Putting my trust in the Lord and my husband Jody as I watched him drive down the street headed for Florida to try and launch a new business-leaving me with six children 9 and under, serving as primary president, teaching 2 children's performing groups and doing pest control scheduling from my home. Happy to say, it all paid off!</span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'trebuchet ms';">5. Welcoming Jody back home two days before Christmas after two very long months, happy to have my family back under one roof! </span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'trebuchet ms';"><br /></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'trebuchet ms';"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-weight: bold;">5 Things on my to do list for today:</span></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'trebuchet ms'; font-weight: bold;"><br /></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'trebuchet ms'; ">1. Laundry, what else?</span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'trebuchet ms';">2. Drive for what seems like an eternity-(schools are a lot further away now that we've moved, I've used almost 3/4 a tank of gas since Tuesday morning)</span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'trebuchet ms';">3. Make a really nice dinner</span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'trebuchet ms';">4. Be patient</span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'trebuchet ms';">5. Make sure my kids know they're loved (p.s.- I cleaned the house yesterday, don't think I'm a slacker!)</span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'trebuchet ms';"><br /></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'trebuchet ms';"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-weight: bold;">5 things I would do with a million dollars:</span></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'trebuchet ms'; font-weight: bold;"><br /></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'trebuchet ms'; ">1. Pay off my house</span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'trebuchet ms';">2. Put away enough money for six missions and eight weddings</span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'trebuchet ms';">3. Take all of my kids to go and see Amy and Don in Europe</span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'trebuchet ms';">4. Buy some land in the mountains</span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'trebuchet ms';">5. Help other people ( I know it sounds like the pageant answer, but really, what else would I need?)</span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'trebuchet ms';"><br /></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'trebuchet ms';"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-weight: bold;">5 places I have lived:</span></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'trebuchet ms'; font-weight: bold;"><br /></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'trebuchet ms'; ">1. Provo, Utah</span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'trebuchet ms';">2. Walpole, Massachusetts </span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'trebuchet ms';">3. Baton Rouge, Louisiana</span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'trebuchet ms';">4. Katy, Texas</span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'trebuchet ms';">5. Laie, Hawaii</span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'trebuchet ms';"><br /></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'trebuchet ms';"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-weight: bold;">5 jobs I have held:</span></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'trebuchet ms'; font-weight: bold;"><br /></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'trebuchet ms'; ">1. Dishroom worker at BYU</span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'trebuchet ms';">2. Phone operator at BYU-Hawaii (best job on campus)</span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'trebuchet ms';">3. Orthodontic Assistant</span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'trebuchet ms';">4. Piano Teacher</span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'trebuchet ms';">5.Teaching childrens Musical Theater groups</span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'trebuchet ms';"><br /></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'trebuchet ms';"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-weight: bold;">5 things I want to be doing in five years:</span></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'trebuchet ms'; font-weight: bold;"><br /></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'trebuchet ms'; ">1. Watching Conner graduate from high school</span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'trebuchet ms';">2. Having my girl back home for the summer after her first year of college and loving every minute of it</span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'trebuchet ms';">3. Be a positive, happy person- despite the demands of teenagers, tweens, young children, and probably a few toddlers to boot!</span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'trebuchet ms';">4. Spend more time with my best friend (Jody), although that's probably a little optimistic. (See #3)</span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'trebuchet ms';">5. Maybe, possibly, working on a degree</span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'trebuchet ms';"><br /></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'trebuchet ms';"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-weight: bold;">5 people I tag:</span></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'trebuchet ms'; font-weight: bold;"><br /></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'trebuchet ms'; ">1. Amy</span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'trebuchet ms';">2. Amy</span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'trebuchet ms';">3. Heidi</span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'trebuchet ms';">4. Jessica</span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'trebuchet ms';">5. Bobbi</span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'trebuchet ms';"><br /></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'trebuchet ms';"><br /></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'trebuchet ms';"><br /></span></div>Anghttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09907483300700619493noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6701832708071973483.post-75802952693015955042009-03-09T17:39:00.000-07:002009-03-10T10:38:39.054-07:00Missing my BlogI have so many things I want to blog about- Brooklyn's birthday, Cooper's birthday, Crew losing his first teeth, the family party with the magician, the new house..... The problem is the last item. Not really a problem, but a reason. My days have been filled with packing, packing, more packing, picking paint colors, deciding what little construction projects to do first, buying a new fridge, picking a new table, packing, and CLEANING. Yikes. I am bone tired. Today I was 35 minutes late to pick up Braelyn from school. I had been at the new house deciding on paint colors. When I picked her up I told her I was sorry, but it had to be done so that the painters could start tomorrow. Cooper was in the front seat and with a confused look asked, "So when someone's a painter and they're a girl, they're called a <span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-style: italic;">paintress</span>?" It was a needed laugh. He had misheard me when I said "painters" (actually I probably had slurred speech brought on by tiredness) and thought he heard paintress. It probably wasn't that funny, but I was a little punch happy I guess! I came home and needed to just do something that wasn't packing, so I decided to add my family pictures to the blog. Way more fun than packing. Missing my blog...will be back soon.Anghttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09907483300700619493noreply@blogger.com12tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6701832708071973483.post-56735761411630003982009-02-20T16:26:00.000-08:002009-02-20T16:44:20.264-08:00Stacks of Laundry<div style="text-align: center;"><br /></div>Last Friday after school I decided that we should do our Saturday work early because we had family pictures first thing the next morning, and it would just be easier all around. We all had our different jobs, and as I was in the kitchen Crew and Cannon came in bubbling with excitement. They wanted to show me a "surprise". I closed my eyes and they led me by the hand into my bathroom, where they proudly showed off their hard work. They had decided to clean my bathroom for me! I shouted my joy and smothered them with hugs and kisses. Then we all went on with our work. It wasn't until later that night that we realized that we had overlooked this:<img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 214px; height: 320px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgk2Hryn6HcmudWao-3Sqg-vlCt7Mvk_DoLSYTByQjjc0LtywBr4rw0q-FUzwKztjCU8l0bHUtzcvVIgoIqWppBdJF_94I3HwhPbh3_AteGWpOdl57oBUuq-I_GVeDXciQhM9722fJK7zE/s320/IMG_0654.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5305044244193588402" /><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 214px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEip_nTR6NHdxxYIlIVa7yFTPwNU8G2nIanLTgRfOgSZItw-2Cbio96poAiuTXMYG2riE7s2Z9wvSwgsZMgoWifggvxFPg5NRK1Vk1VHS3eCy4wtbYNCjt-FFeKcp6YCuFNDj5Pdkrf8x4A/s320/IMG_0655.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5305044060495067938" />Apparently when they were trying to clean the shower they realized they couldn't reach the top. So they found every piece of clothing they could-clean, dirty, whatever-and stacked it up in the shower. It made for some extra laundry the next day, but it was worth the laugh!Anghttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09907483300700619493noreply@blogger.com6tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6701832708071973483.post-45052441359469198252009-02-20T16:12:00.001-08:002009-02-20T16:26:25.667-08:00Valentines Day Preparations<div style="text-align: center;"><br /></div><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjofNlbWWM28rhyHPMKqhJV9t_rRsOSOgugeLvtyk5-uu7MojJMBIzDM2mjyAPfpqgIsEwFZAvZQYGQqgwprj88pEubOk7AjEUDfsy0exd8fBNu_7qXdAaiuh8Nur9bP45Gpn39-J1GZ-s/s1600-h/IMG_0644.JPG"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 214px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjofNlbWWM28rhyHPMKqhJV9t_rRsOSOgugeLvtyk5-uu7MojJMBIzDM2mjyAPfpqgIsEwFZAvZQYGQqgwprj88pEubOk7AjEUDfsy0exd8fBNu_7qXdAaiuh8Nur9bP45Gpn39-J1GZ-s/s320/IMG_0644.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5305037603395090578" /></a><div style="text-align: center;">Ooh...those legs! More delicious than the cookies she's making!</div><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiWJMZ84tLSTitF_o_QMxPaopt8Mrs5cmd9O7t-BUQWgNmwbIiFzm2CqacZL5oS1LsEjD_8z5MoGCXYKZH2X5Y13ts-GHM91IigpmLaRJ6gu8UeZw3qSan1unUL8TL2kq5hbGz9CIfWdio/s1600-h/IMG_0643.JPG"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 214px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiWJMZ84tLSTitF_o_QMxPaopt8Mrs5cmd9O7t-BUQWgNmwbIiFzm2CqacZL5oS1LsEjD_8z5MoGCXYKZH2X5Y13ts-GHM91IigpmLaRJ6gu8UeZw3qSan1unUL8TL2kq5hbGz9CIfWdio/s320/IMG_0643.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5305037596715612258" /></a><div style="text-align: center;">Don't worry, they used proper hand washing techniques prior to holding, rolling, and squishing the dough -- and I only gave away the ones that <span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-style: italic;">I</span> made, so if you ate one of these- no worries!</div><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjIAFL7mSIVw5yAkn2NHrQ-cIbBMkx-f1G9Fh8ScYkk5AbuDLtHMd4nKlMnEPOvy4h5yjchYs6LR91hk9lKawl1OAIFPYzOCIAQDGxNdiKDl0qrT5FnbhdZDkfES3ryBDshZz8_N9R_A-8/s1600-h/IMG_0642.JPG"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 214px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjIAFL7mSIVw5yAkn2NHrQ-cIbBMkx-f1G9Fh8ScYkk5AbuDLtHMd4nKlMnEPOvy4h5yjchYs6LR91hk9lKawl1OAIFPYzOCIAQDGxNdiKDl0qrT5FnbhdZDkfES3ryBDshZz8_N9R_A-8/s320/IMG_0642.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5305037592658654914" /></a><div style="text-align: center;"><br /></div><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj0ICJ6r1Td2lmRRA6AbmvpdwYOvmHhu5wneIigX8AI8CLJjH6Z4dgyAhgbkskwzc8Gx4jnOl7D3h-g1RBEvASCkkw0BJvTspT51B-Kx_j_aywCKVp7OtOgNkY8Oiz3XB7EpPjiE3ELKH4/s1600-h/IMG_0641.JPG"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 214px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj0ICJ6r1Td2lmRRA6AbmvpdwYOvmHhu5wneIigX8AI8CLJjH6Z4dgyAhgbkskwzc8Gx4jnOl7D3h-g1RBEvASCkkw0BJvTspT51B-Kx_j_aywCKVp7OtOgNkY8Oiz3XB7EpPjiE3ELKH4/s320/IMG_0641.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5305037590315697586" /></a><div style="text-align: center;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: center;"><br /></div><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhGa0v5bOlvb8kl8UmPxWjqHmA5i6L0_7B6PjLk8rPSt29ns798P9GMpHsUsv6vOUDV3y2V3w3Gg9jdLiQJzcu40pchmpt19Cj1otIhVyjIQgNHXlHbE0zroIXZkDHvx-x0A06WBOrLThI/s1600-h/IMG_0640.JPG"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 214px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhGa0v5bOlvb8kl8UmPxWjqHmA5i6L0_7B6PjLk8rPSt29ns798P9GMpHsUsv6vOUDV3y2V3w3Gg9jdLiQJzcu40pchmpt19Cj1otIhVyjIQgNHXlHbE0zroIXZkDHvx-x0A06WBOrLThI/s320/IMG_0640.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5305037585682417730" /></a><div style="text-align: center;">The all important valentine signing. I fully remember the social pressure of this day in elementary school. Do you?</div><div style="text-align: center;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: center;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: center;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: center;"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 214px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjJpZGs9KLcA6sxz3tqLM5apnCCtqWCCVN2C9cNRS8QbFU_2T1LFyQnBxpHQSeeJFNNtOXYu-YVoIMsQ0e_epmyGwfOzSYMhk8rZYhr8cuVta42tsIXagbYP7To0XLlBrop7Pb7VeIu2Ls/s320/IMG_0645.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5305038023149759218" /></div><div style="text-align: center;">The finished product. We had fun together<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-style: italic;"> &</span> the cookies turned out. See, not everything in my life turns into a saga!</div><div style="text-align: center;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: center;"><br /></div>Anghttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09907483300700619493noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6701832708071973483.post-12323570949377350692009-02-11T16:43:00.000-08:002009-02-11T17:21:27.344-08:00Fun Friday Night<div style="text-align: center;"><br /></div><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi2s7Wa5Re95VquL-HfUdqeWAKkFfx-klQlGjCpekzW_p2EVGn5hlGVCuWvANCALn-q1H2M1OaChcVOMNIQsvMP4fuTUGCTm881mkYqS1RPRwbVeCOIayUHsEJ25XLyvDsKFLRowgQX7gw/s1600-h/IMG_0609.JPG"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 214px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi2s7Wa5Re95VquL-HfUdqeWAKkFfx-klQlGjCpekzW_p2EVGn5hlGVCuWvANCALn-q1H2M1OaChcVOMNIQsvMP4fuTUGCTm881mkYqS1RPRwbVeCOIayUHsEJ25XLyvDsKFLRowgQX7gw/s320/IMG_0609.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5301706610841127794" /></a><div style="text-align: center;"><br /></div><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgwoa5EwzC4sCh5x7LW8IHS0nO6eE5bJUJ7Oz93h2peasVTCz2zTTYETg9Tl-4WkNKFaYIKEn81U9yojeucI_8jdlvAvCYZAiOwYuCNeNL2-FzZacHjqICtoeNBXli40qor4d3eN4nvevo/s1600-h/IMG_0603.JPG"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 214px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgwoa5EwzC4sCh5x7LW8IHS0nO6eE5bJUJ7Oz93h2peasVTCz2zTTYETg9Tl-4WkNKFaYIKEn81U9yojeucI_8jdlvAvCYZAiOwYuCNeNL2-FzZacHjqICtoeNBXli40qor4d3eN4nvevo/s320/IMG_0603.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5301706606651589698" /></a><div style="text-align: center;"><br /></div><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgqUBH0FITPep37_eQqefuh73q7YJ3ItaD8KAPEpULF040Lw8L_I2_pmoMJv8SDLLMVpgSm3r20y33vtCWwkggaP9eYUcqe2ht6tM8Bmmy1iw3RBAO2acgtLyH5QKRp1A29BA1OUATSgAA/s1600-h/IMG_0596.JPG"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 214px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgqUBH0FITPep37_eQqefuh73q7YJ3ItaD8KAPEpULF040Lw8L_I2_pmoMJv8SDLLMVpgSm3r20y33vtCWwkggaP9eYUcqe2ht6tM8Bmmy1iw3RBAO2acgtLyH5QKRp1A29BA1OUATSgAA/s320/IMG_0596.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5301706602151445362" /></a><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:verdana;">Last friday night Cooper got his <span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: rgb(255, 102, 0);">Arrow of Light.</span> </span><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:verdana;"><br /></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:verdana;">He also got his <span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: rgb(0, 102, 0);">20's Patch</span>, which is pretty awesome. There are 20 different activity badges possible in Webelos, but only half of those are required to get your Arrow of light. Cooper went above and beyond. I am so proud of him.</span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:verdana;"><br /></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:verdana;"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 214px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEivq5G-Etmg1j69AwrqDmVRFlVcnr6-doqZnklnWs1piRjfPhFSqH6-WDW82uZiNTobQTT6RQrHhVOmNPTq2-B7noMeGpn8IIjIf0AgnrmPBqIArsqcHKFLJmTlvMmZHIF2AzSLNDU9kvw/s320/IMG_0585.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5301707577969520306" /></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:verdana;">Caden got his <span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: rgb(0, 0, 153);">Religious Knot</span>. As part of this he had to write down his testimony, and when I read it I felt all goose bumpy. There is something about a nine year old testifying in their own words about the Savior and the scriptures. I love being a mom. </span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:verdana;"><br /></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:verdana;">It all sound so nice, which it was, but it was also all a little crazy. Jody had been gone out of town all week. (enough said) Then Colton got sick. I decided to leave Braelyn home with Colton while we went to the Blue and Gold. Then Brookie got sick. And Conner had an ear infection and possibly strep throat. So he and Brooke stayed home as well. I was responsible for bringing potato salad and a pie. There was a pie contest for all homemade pies. At one time in my life I would have loved the challenge and spent all day striving for pie perfection. Oh how life teaches us. I don't even feel the slightest bit guilty that my contribution was going to be a Marie Calendars Turtle Pie. And let's just admit it, it was way probably yummier than anything I would have concocted. I also had to go to the scout store that morning to buy Cooper his neckerchief and slide which he lost, and would never wear again, but needed for the ceremony. Add that in to an already crazy day and I was feeling a little overwhelmed. Then of course, because I am so fabulous at procrastinating, I had to sew the last six months worth of badges onto Coop and Cade's shirts. Amazingly enough, the four boys and I loaded ourselves and the potato salad into the car and set off down the road on time! No sooner had I rounded the corner than I realized we had a stowaway. Brooklyn was hiding in the way back of the car, determined not to be left behind. I quickly turned around and pulled back into the driveway. By this time Braelyn was outside searching for Brooklyn. Caden yanked open the car door to deposit her into Braelyn's waiting arms and <span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: rgb(153, 0, 0);">SPLAT</span> went the potato salad. All over the driveway. This started the blaming, exclaiming, ranting and raving. I jumped out of the car and looked over to see a realtor trying to talk to a man who was looking at the house next door. I'm pretty sure it only took him ten seconds to realize that we would NOT be ideal neighbors! I ran in the house with what was left of the potato salad to transfer it to another container, then screeched out of the driveway, arriving just after the opening prayer. Not too bad, right? About ten minutes into the program I realize that I had forgotten to pin back on Cooper's Webelos activity badge thing, which I had taken off to wash the shirt. With my life lessons in learning not too sweat the small stuff, I would have brushed it off...<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-style: italic;">except...</span> they make a big deal in the Arrow of Light ceremony of removing it. So I left the four boys (with a few good threats thrown in just to be sure they behaved) and ran home for the pin. I arrived back at Blue and Gold, only to realize I had left the pie in the fridge. At this point I decided who the heck cared. It was actually going to work out pretty good, because once I got home, got everyone to bed, rocked a sick baby, and picked up Jody from the airport, a turtle pie was going to be just the ticket. And I was right. It was delicious...every bite.</span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:verdana;"><br /></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:verdana;"><br /></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:verdana;"><br /></span></div>Anghttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09907483300700619493noreply@blogger.com11