tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-21108981478956860182024-02-19T08:22:54.014-08:00Look at that MessAngiehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04649133737692208098noreply@blogger.comBlogger160125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2110898147895686018.post-21737899532122107592014-04-23T10:11:00.000-07:002014-04-23T10:30:24.284-07:00Wednesday Morning <div style="text-align: center;">
Everyone's up early</div>
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Peaceful time for eggs and pigtails</div>
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Not a rush to be found<br />
What a nice little anomaly</div>
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Smiling faces climb in the van</div>
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Off to school we go</div>
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But wait</div>
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Strapping in the littlest brings a surprise</div>
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Diarrhea is on her and me and everything in between</div>
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But she has the happiest smile you've ever seen</div>
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And pigtails</div>
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Showers, disinfectant wipes, towels, and q-tips galore </div>
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School started half an hour ago</div>
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Three little heads in my rear view mirror</div>
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There's no other crew I'd rather be late with</div>
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<br />Angiehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04649133737692208098noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2110898147895686018.post-18073253704678044982014-03-25T20:13:00.001-07:002014-03-26T08:38:59.105-07:00I Love Grass Stains<div style="text-align: center;">
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Silas comes home with them on his khakis after every school day.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">They make me happy.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">They are </span><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">signs of life</span><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">. </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">My boy played today. He was outside and really <span style="font-size: large;">played. </span></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Grass stains are hard evidence of good stuff, of which I am ever thankful.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">I also like them because I found an easy way to get them out. </span><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Ahhh, sweet gratification.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Grass stains can eat my road grit, liver lips!</span></div>
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<b><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Here's how I do it:</span></b></div>
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"> <span style="color: #6aa84f;"><b>1.</b> Run hot water over the stain.</span></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><span style="color: #6aa84f;"> <b>2.</b> Put a dab of liquid dish soap on the stain and scrub with a dish scrubber. </span><span style="color: #6aa84f;">The stain will </span></span><br />
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><span style="color: #6aa84f;"> immediately start to fade. </span><span style="color: #6aa84f;">Keep going, </span><span style="color: #6aa84f;">using elbow grease </span><span style="color: #6aa84f;">until the stain is mostly gone.</span></span></div>
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<span style="color: #6aa84f; font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"> <b>3.</b> Wash in the laundry as usual.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">May the perspective and empowerment of the grass stain be with you.</span></div>
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Angiehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04649133737692208098noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2110898147895686018.post-13566598658499913482013-09-02T21:42:00.005-07:002013-09-03T13:59:09.557-07:00Kids and SexI love my sister Aszia. She faces everything in life with a certain level of intensity. And because of this, sometimes it's easy to not take her too seriously.<br />
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That's what I did when she asked me repeatedly to go to a class on "Parenting in a Sexualized Culture." All I heard was the sound effect they used on Saturday Night Live when Debbie Downer mentioned the Greenhouse Effect.<br />
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Ok maybe that's exaggerating. I was looking forward to seeing where my sister worked and thought maybe I'd learn something new. But my kids are so young. I didn't <i>really </i>need to know this stuff yet.<br />
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But lo and behold, I went and got my world rocked.<br />
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Here's why:<br />
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1. The speaker, Dan Martin with pureHOPE, immediately grabbed my attention. He spoke like we were his good friends. And within a few minutes he shared that all three of his (now teenage) kids had looked at porn already. <i>Angie's inner thoughts: Alright, this is gonna be meaty! Not your typical "purity is a gift for your future spouse" gospel meeting.</i><br />
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2. Then came the really good news. Sex is a big part of God's plan for his creation. It's not some dark corner of us that gets us into trouble and needs to be bridled. It's actually an incredibly powerful facet of being human. It tells the story of God and his people. Amazing biological things, like attaching to your mate, happen during sex. He made us want sex, people! God is pro-sex. I don't know how else to say this.<br />
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3. The abstinence message really misses the point. Sex isn't a "Do Not Enter" or "Caution" sign. It's a picture of a highway through a beautiful landscape. The highway has guardrails because we have a good God who doesn't want his kids driving off the edge, experiencing alot of pain. But he wants us driving through it!<br />
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4. Our kids, along with ourselves, are going to make a mess out of things. In this digital age, pretty much every child will be exposed to pornography. And that's just one way we drive off the side of the road. But this doesn't intimidate our God. He's in the business of redeeming and refining us. And this is what we get to teach our kids!<br />
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Hearing him tell the story of finding his child looking at pornography and how he walked him through that was mind blowing. He said he resisted the urge to travel that ever popular road of "I suck as a parent" and overreact. Instead, he cried with his child, apologized for not protecting him by being more intentional about keeping the dangerous parts of the internet out of their home, and walked him through how, full of hope, we repent and Father God picks us up, dusts us off, and we get back to following after him.<br />
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Now for a girl who errs on the side of never doing anything for fear of doing anything wrong, hearing that God can handle how bad we suck sure lights a fire under me. I throw off that cloak of fear and get busy loving him and listening to what he says. He wants us free.<br />
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5. He shared in interesting detail the ins and outs of the things on the internet that will suck the life out of my kids' sexuality and send them sailing off the side of the mountainous road - what apps are all the rage, where to go to learn the trends, good filters and monitors to have and so much more. So much that I had never heard of. The man knew his stuff.<br />
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6. I understood with clarity that teaching my kids about sex started now. The world is already at it. Why should I wait and avoid it and have to play catch up/damage control later? It's good news. I won't have it twisted and ruined in their little hearts. <br />
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I walked out of that building busting at the seams with hope. I felt I had been handed a treasure. Here Angie, let me set your heart right about something very important while your kids are still young. That way you can lead them well throughout their lives. How does that sound? Umm yeah, I'll have that.<br />
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As I drove home, I reveled in my new discoveries. I can handle teaching my kids about sex. I can handle when they start learning about masturbation. I get to help them develop the habit of walking through mistakes with honesty and humility, not shame. And guess what? When I screw up my job of parenting, he redeems that too.<br />
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And by the way, this was tested a few days later when we took Silas to dinner to introduce the subject. I butchered it. Like as in, I couldn't explain the mechanics without laughing like I was in 5th grade. But God was there. Brian and I were both silently saying alot of "help!" prayers, and he did. He helped the right questions come out. And helped Silas to get what he needed to get. Silas' main conclusion was "Eww yuck!" And Brian ended the conversation saying that one day he would feel differently and we would be talking about it more and that Silas could ask us <i>anything</i> and would never get in trouble.<br />
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<span style="font-size: x-small;">The game of hangman was also introduced at dinner. </span></div>
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<span style="font-size: x-small;">Silas loved it so much he kept squealing and kicking the booth and disturbing the people behind us.</span><br />
<span style="font-size: x-small;">I'm sure they were further disturbed later on by my hand motions and snickers about penises and vaginas... </span></div>
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In conclusion, I highly recommend seeking out this subject for ANY parent. Or if I'm being completely honest, any human being. There is alot of good stuff going on with sex. And alot of ways it can get trashed. It's worth our attention.<br />
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And believe it or not, this long post contains only a few of the "whoa!" moments I had during the class. If you get the chance, hear pureHOPE speak - they do this all over the country. <a href="http://purehope.net/what-we-do/parenting/" target="_blank">Here's their website.</a> It's so good being reminded about how creative and gentle and capable God is with us.Angiehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04649133737692208098noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2110898147895686018.post-77086165505529079752013-08-16T12:09:00.000-07:002013-08-16T12:09:06.925-07:00We're Rich.<span style="background-color: white; color: #222222; font-family: arial, sans-serif; font-size: 13px;">Brian and I were laying in bed last night talking about how I still couldn't shake the fear and impending sense of doom about our vacation to Florida. I told him it started when I read the weather forecast saying it was supposed to thunderstorm every day. I immediately turned to the Lord when I read it and was going to tell him that I trusted him and ask for his blessing and whatever he had for us on this trip. But as I did, I thought about how I never even sought him before planning this trip at all. I never asked what he wanted, invited him in, asked for his guidance. Then I felt like he must totally disapprove of me. What if he didn't want us to go at all? What if something bad was going to happen to us? </span><span style="background-color: white; color: #222222; font-family: arial, sans-serif; font-size: 13px;">(Enter more fear/inner turmoil and nowhere to go with it because I sure couldn't talk to God!)</span><br />
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Brian looked at me and said that we would still ask his will even now. </div>
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Even though we already paid for it and leave in two days?? </div>
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Yep. If he doesn't want us to go, then we won't go. </div>
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Ok. (freedom creeping in)</div>
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<span style="font-size: 13px;">And we prayed.</span></div>
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I felt a yes in my spirit, that he wanted us to go and be there and rest. Brian said he had peace about it as well. Alright then, we're all in. The heaviness in my chest began to lift.</div>
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Then we made sweet love. Just kidding. Making sure you're still awake...</div>
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But seriously, throughout this whole process I grew a new understanding about how rich it is to walk with the Lord. To trust him. When I assumed he was rejecting me, I felt that I couldn't take my fears to him. In the midst of the angst I was struck by what it's like to just sit with your anxieties and demons and have no place to take them. I looked for distractions. I was edgier with my kids.</div>
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And it made me rethink this question that floats around my head from time to time: what real difference does it make following Jesus? Everyone else's lives seem just fine. I knew the answer. Even if it meant sacrificing our vacation plans. The intimacy and trust and provision I enjoy with my Father God is more precious than gold. My life is rich because of him. </div>
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Like richer than winning the lottery rich. </div>
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This is what I want for others. This is how it was meant to be. </div>
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To know the love and peace of our maker...there is nothing better. </div>
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This morning, with a renewed heart and a peace that I am protected, not from pain or hardships, but from hopelessness and abandonment, I'm packing for our trip and baking snacks with my four year old. The windows are open on this odd August day in Texas and we have beautiful music playing as we sing love songs to our Father.</div>
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Angiehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04649133737692208098noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2110898147895686018.post-65998247947677086522013-07-11T19:13:00.001-07:002013-07-11T19:13:45.583-07:00Cutie Pie<div style="text-align: center;">
Kennedy had a photo shoot today. I've been meaning to do it since she was three months old<span style="font-size: x-small;"> (that's the skirt size)</span>. And since I rarely document anything about this little dumpling, now's a good time.</div>
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She is delightfully happy. Unless you try to pick her nose or give her medicine.</div>
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She loves dogs or "gog" as she calls them. </div>
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She points out of every window and looks in anticipation of seeing one.</div>
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She's very connected to the people around her. She gets ecstatic when her brother and sister come around. She quietly and constantly watches my every move and if I look her way she flashes me a big gummy smile. And don't even get me started on her and her daddy. Two peas in a pod.</div>
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Her Jedi power would be detecting choking/indigestible hazards unseen by the naked eye. </div>
<br />Angiehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04649133737692208098noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2110898147895686018.post-12827651240026410132013-06-21T11:17:00.000-07:002013-06-21T11:20:02.311-07:00Creative Parenting AttemptMy kids had been struggling with selfishness more than usual this morning. You know the old "no you can't have any of my goldfish!" or "Madison's playing with my car and it's MINE!"<br />
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So I told them I'd join them for a while and then we could decide if we want selfishness or unselfishness in this family.<br />
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I made myself a delicious lunch and took it to my bedroom to watch a little HGTV. They were perplexed, asking why I was watching TV instead of eating at the table and could they pleeeeeeeeease have some of my food??<br />
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Ummm, no I think I want to eat it all by myself.<br />
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They cried.<br />
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I reminded them that I'm trying out being selfish. They left and cried some more.<br />
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I ate my lunch in delightful solitude. Just me and "Rehab Addict." I was only interrupted once when Madison came in crying saying she had honey in her hair and on her legs. Inwardly I cringed but I politely asked her not to touch me or get it on any of <i>my</i> stuff. She left and cried some more.<br />
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I got done and braced myself for what I'd find since I hadn't heard anything from them in 20 minutes and there was honey involved.<br />
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But I was pleasantly surprised.<br />
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Silas made Madison's lunch and they were eating together. And there was only a little honey spilled on the counter. Madison looked up and tearfully told me she likes when I'm unselfish and "wets be unsewfish togedoh."<br />
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They may have diarrhea later from eating 300 grapes but I think they might have learned something.Angiehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04649133737692208098noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2110898147895686018.post-14557248140765664902013-05-05T18:18:00.001-07:002013-05-05T20:30:37.904-07:00Sunday RestToday was wonderfully unremarkable. The weather and a freshly mowed lawn of soft green grass didn't hurt. We stayed home, resting and playing. Madison and I made a few bouquets from our rose bush (during which Madison explained why she wubs spwing time...because ebweeting is bustin out). We made a volcano. We laid around on the floor with Kennedy and tried to teach her to crawl. Then there was snuggling and reading the kids books on the couch and waffles and eggs for dinner.<br />
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How tenderly our Father loves us that he not only gives us permission to rest but he commands it.</div>
Angiehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04649133737692208098noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2110898147895686018.post-66040583097666106692013-04-24T07:10:00.001-07:002013-04-24T07:23:16.811-07:00Bite Off Yo Weesha<div style="text-align: center;">
Silas had a really late celebration for his cousin's birthday on a school night last week. The next morning I found him snuggled in his Christmas pajamas under a warm blanket yawning telling me how tired he was and how good it felt to rest. I'd been wanting some quality time with him so I decided he should stay home from school.</div>
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And the only logical thing to do when your child plays hookie<br />
is to spend the day making a music video.</div>
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<iframe allowfullscreen="" frameborder="0" height="315" src="http://www.youtube.com/embed/Vhd8qPSpVfM" width="560"></iframe></div>
Angiehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04649133737692208098noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2110898147895686018.post-57328868803715444532013-04-08T19:58:00.001-07:002013-04-08T19:58:22.126-07:00Kennedy's Favorite Food<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEivGr9NxqUTzJWZmSebNT0ohxMZ6rpCbrHt3rhSrT_JzUlndfVNIYtz_BVOPGGYqF7Ns4Nqwz6xJhAKHZDq3dmqoVWx0Nce4tweqSt39DomcUuFwFj_nuWshOAwHalEb_OqbNX7YwxMZik/s1600/kennedy+tp.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEivGr9NxqUTzJWZmSebNT0ohxMZ6rpCbrHt3rhSrT_JzUlndfVNIYtz_BVOPGGYqF7Ns4Nqwz6xJhAKHZDq3dmqoVWx0Nce4tweqSt39DomcUuFwFj_nuWshOAwHalEb_OqbNX7YwxMZik/s640/kennedy+tp.jpg" width="480" /></a></div>
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Paper products.</div>
Angiehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04649133737692208098noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2110898147895686018.post-12787028284582631242013-04-05T21:08:00.001-07:002013-04-05T21:08:25.987-07:00What Melts Me These Days<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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These nose wrinkles<br />
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and these freckles.</div>
Angiehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04649133737692208098noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2110898147895686018.post-39465957010143634772013-02-22T21:23:00.003-08:002013-02-22T21:23:59.292-08:00Bedtime with Brian<div style="text-align: center;">
My husband decided to use our kids' Shamu <span style="font-size: x-small;">(or Shamoof as they say)</span> obsession</div>
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to his advantage during bedtime.</div>
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Someone's getting a wetsuit and whistle for his birthday.</div>
Angiehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04649133737692208098noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2110898147895686018.post-41211395350081729072012-11-27T22:38:00.000-08:002012-11-28T06:20:34.387-08:00Death and ChristmasWell, tonight's experience of putting up the Christmas tree didn't turn out like I expected. It actually did't get done at all...<br />
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Our house was filled with excitement as we finished up dinner and started opening up all the Christmas bins. We didn't have enough lights for the tree so Brian decided to run to the Family Dollar down the street while we kept Christmasing.<br />
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<i>Important side note: Pandora was set to our Mariah Carey Christmas channel, which after liking a few songs, made an unwanted turn toward what I would name the Deep and Borderline Depressing Instrumental Christmas Channel. <span style="font-size: x-small;">If you want the full effect, Google "Winter Solstice" by Michele McLaughlin and start that playing in the background. </span></i><br />
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The kids started playing with this toy and it was quickly turning into a wrestling match. I told them to please stop and be careful with it because it was really special to me. I explained that my grandpa, who was in heaven, made it and I played with it when I was little.<br />
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This seemed to calm things down until a few minutes later when Madison asked in her sweet chipmunk voice, Mommy, do you miss yuh Gwanpa? Yes I do miss him. But I'm only a little bit sad because I get to see him again one day. Silas clarified, You get to see him when you die, right Mommy? That's right Silas.<br />
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Then Silas said really excitedly, I know who's going to die first in our family!!<span style="font-size: large;"> </span><br />
<span style="font-size: x-large;">YOU Mommy! </span>He stood up on his knees and pointed at me with a beaming smile. <i>(Backstory: Silas once asked about dying and I told him about heaven and the hope we have about meeting Jesus, who loves us more than we could ever know, and being with God in a place better than we could ever imagine. He cried and cried saying that he was afraid to go there before me. When my describing the awesomeness of heaven couldn't mend his breaking five-year-old heart, I told him I would go before him, that he didn't have to worry about it.)</i> His joyous delivery that I was going to die first got me laughing pretty hard.<br />
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I lifted my head with tears in my eyes but my chuckles quickly died down when I saw Madison in that state of silent crying where your face is winced up, mouth open, and you still haven't made a noise. With hiccup breathing she asked, Mommy, aw you gonna die???<br />
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Oh dear.<br />
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Yes Madison, everyone dies. And when we do, guess who is going to be there? God!! He is going to wrap us up in his arms and be so happy and we get to live with him and be in the best place. There are colors we have never seen before and we wont get hurt anymore and it is so much better than here.<br />
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Then I notice Silas is now in the silent crying ugly face state.<br />
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Oh no.<br />
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But Mommy, I'm scared to go because I'm bad!!!!!!<br />
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Welp. Time to set down the ornaments.<br />
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Yeah Silas, so am I. Everyone is. That's why Jesus came. If you'll let him, he has a blanket of goodness to wrap around you. He got the blanket because he took our punishment. Are you afraid God will be angry at you because you're bad?<br />
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Yes!!<br />
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Well when we follow Jesus and believe in him, we have Jesus' blanket wrapped around us. I need his blanket too. I mess up just like you do. Sometimes I'm mean and lie and act selfish. But I know God loves me and wants to wrap me up. I ask him to forgive me and he does! He LOVES us!<br />
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I looked at the tree and said, This is why Christmas is such a big deal and so special. Because it's when Jesus was born and came here to save us. That's really exciting because he's our superhero and it's our superhero's birthday.<br />
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Long story short(er), Silas had peace knowing Jesus covers him. It was the first time he really seemed to get it. What an awesome moment. But the attention quickly went back to the three-year-old took who needed to fully process the emotions that come with learning that everyone, including your mommy, dies. That's a biggie. And I was ok with it. I held her while she cried for a looooooong time.<br />
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And let's just say Brian was a little shocked after leaving a house filled with Mariah Carey's "Santa Claus is Coming to Town" and kids squealing with excitement over Christmas goodies and returning to tear-jerker music, me sitting on the floor with Madison burying her head in my chest wailing Mommy aw you weeeeelly going to die?? I don't want you to die!!<br />
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He eventually jumped in and helped me try to lead them through learning about this painful part of life. He got to answer some fun questions about car accidents and plane crashes.<br />
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After a while I told the kids it was time to be happy and decorate the tree because we are all safe, Mommy and Daddy are healthy and feeling sad about dying was not for today. We could throw it far away because we didn't need it now.<br />
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We had to revisit the subject about 15 times after that but once I had the bright idea to CHANGE THE DAMNED CRYING CHRISTMAS MUSIC PANDORA STATION, things improved. Turns out the "Kids Christmas" channel with Winnie the Pooh singing Jingle Bells helps take your mind off of death.<br />
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The Christmas tree is now glowing in the living room with no decorations. We'll have to make another go at it tomorrow night.<br />
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Let's cross our fingers that no one asks where babies come from.Angiehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04649133737692208098noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2110898147895686018.post-45782670801187579642012-11-15T20:29:00.003-08:002012-11-15T20:29:55.574-08:00HeritageMy grandma (Mema) was recently diagnosed with Lymphoma. Before the diagnosis she was in great health so this came as a shock to her and all of the family.<br />
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Since the diagnosis I find myself watching as she talks to others. And I listen when she talks to me. I see a woman on a mission to give her worries to the one who made her and loves her. I notice that she's missing signs of resentment, bitterness, or pity. With calmness and peace she lets others care for her. She continues to love without fear. She doesn't have time to judge whether or not you want a hug so tight it will take your breath away, you better believe you're getting one. Even in the face of cancer she powerfully blesses the people around her.<br />
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Then there's my mom. Holy cow what I learn from her. I watch her take her mom dinner most week nights. She tenderly walks arm in arm with her while they shop. Her concern for her doesn't fade as the newness of chemo wears off and everyone else is back to their normal lives. She's a genuine lover. Incapable of pretense. I think she shows a glimpse of God's love that us humans don't experience often. That unique love that would never wonder what's the right thing to say or how can I make them feel better. An unwillingness to waste energy on anxiety or self-preservation when there's someone who needs caring for.<br />
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It was a profound moment when, surrounded by family in the peacefulness of camping on a crisp fall day, my mom shaved her head alongside her mom. One woman facing a threat to her life with courage and trust, another willing to sacrifice so her mom isn't alone.<br />
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What a legacy I follow.</div>
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What a privilege to learn how to love and live with depth and freedom from these women. </div>
Angiehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04649133737692208098noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2110898147895686018.post-47234737471328042442012-10-15T20:44:00.000-07:002012-10-15T20:44:59.503-07:00What We've Been Up To<span style="font-size: large;">We survived a very colicky baby.</span> It only lasted a month, from 3-7 weeks old, but the 12 hours she cried (more like screamed and shrieked) every day nearly did me in. Now she's just fussy in the evenings for about an hour or two, which seems like nothing. I think people that go through this should at least get a t-shirt. Or a little "CB" sticker to put on your back window, like the 26.2 stickers people get when they run a marathon.<br />
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<span style="font-size: large;">My brother got married. </span>They ran off to Vegas and took the plunge. I love these two people.<br />
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<span style="font-size: large;">We went to the state fair.</span> The kids had a blast. The highlights were Big Tex <span style="font-size: x-small;">(they sat hypnotized by the "giant cowboy" for quite a while)</span>, the pig races, and us getting to play and be silly together.<br />
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<span style="font-size: large;">Kennedy started smiling. </span>She's more serious than the other two were at this age, but she loves for us to talk to her. And man does her sister ever love her. I've never known a child to care this intensely about a baby sibling.<br />
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She's declared that Kennedy's nickname shall be Banana Cupcake Darling. </div>
Angiehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04649133737692208098noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2110898147895686018.post-44331556717398939462012-09-17T19:18:00.001-07:002012-10-04T20:20:09.207-07:00Kindergarten Or Bust!A few weeks ago my first child went off to kindergarten.<br />
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I didn't trust myself the morning of his first day. As if spending the last five years intentionally investing every single day in a child you love to the depths of your soul and suddenly handing that job over to a stranger for the majority of the child's waking hours isn't hard enough, I'd just had a baby 3 days prior and knew I wasn't quite myself.<br />
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When we got inside I watched him walking away from me with his "Cars" backpack swinging with every step. For about 10 seconds tears fell as I let my mind wander back to the past. I could see his little 2 year old face, his diapered bottom, the way he used to talk. My throat tightened and my lungs were about to explode. I knew if this happened it was gonna be ugly. I mentally slapped myself, Not now Angie! I pulled it together, gave him a huge hug and made my exit, trying not to breathe.<br />
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I still need to find time for that breakdown/mourning session to happen. There's alot that needs to be processed. My journey with this child has been so life-changing. Fighting for him, desperately trying to understand his sensory difficulties. Battling against my flesh, learning to choose ways that lead to life like asking for forgiveness and refusing resentfulness of the hard moments. Freedom-filled days going to the zoo or the playground or wherever we wanted, making rich memories.<br />
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And I know the journey isn't over, but it is certainly different. We (especially Madison) miss him during the day. I've already gotten to talk and pray with him about difficulties with friends. About being afraid to speak up and ask for help. About trying to encourage more and compete less.<br />
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I sure love being a part of helping him grow. He's a pretty special guy.Angiehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04649133737692208098noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2110898147895686018.post-89969961219967437832012-09-05T18:54:00.000-07:002012-09-05T18:57:41.723-07:00Epidural vs. Natural (Kennedy's Birth Story)I somewhat unintentionally gave birth naturally the other day.<br />
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<span style="font-size: x-small;"><i>Please stop reading if you're squeamish or not wanting to get too personal. Because it's about to get personal. </i></span><br />
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I had been debating whether or not to get an epidural. Brian and I listed the pros and cons the night before the induction.<br />
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<b>Pros:</b><br />
1. No pain (I thought this counted for 15 pros)<br />
2. Less severe episiotomy (more time to stretch because the urge to push is controllable)<br />
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<b>Cons:</b><br />
1. Dangerous when you have <a href="http://lookatthatmess.blogspot.com/2012/08/pre-labor-ramblings.html" target="_blank">SPD</a> because you can't feel when you're hips are being pushed beyond their limits, can lead to permanent damage<br />
2. Risks, including spinal leak (which happened with Silas' birth, horrible experience)<br />
3. You miss out on the powerful natural experience of childbirth<br />
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After listing these, Brian lovingly said "Angie, you'll cave and get the epidural."<br />
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I agreed. With Silas I'd labored to a "6" and was shivering with intense pain, grabbing the anesthesiologist in desperation. I knew a little bit of what awaited me and I wasn't lying to myself about it. <span style="font-size: x-small;">(With Madison I got an epidural early because my OB knew that after the birth she was doing reconstruction to repair damage from the previous 9 pound, 6 ouncer's exit)</span><br />
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So that's where we left it. I would wait and make the decision in the midst of the pain. The pain has a way of making the epidural seem much less scary. We both knew I'd probably get the epidural. But a small part of me heard my mother's voice reciting my birth story, "I never had any pain with you. You were out in 3 pushes!" And then there was the "Once you start pushing it's such a relief. If you can just make it to that point, you've got it." Deep down I wanted the experience for myself.<br />
But then again I didn't.<br />
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<span style="font-size: x-small;">Here I am, filled with naivety. </span></div>
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That morning, when the nurses asked about my plan I kept saying I was going to wait and see but most likely I'd be getting an epidural. They started the pitocin drip and over the course of a few hours they checked me and I was at a 4. Encouraging. Pain level: 3. She upped the pitocin.<br />
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A few more hours went by and I started having to lightly breath through contractions. Pain level: 5. They checked me again and we were all discouraged that I was still at a 4. I looked at Brian and told him I didn't think I wanted to do this. The doctor told the nurse to increase the pitocin again.<br />
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My pain went fairly quickly to about a 7. I put in headphones and all I wanted to listen to was Bruce Sprinstein's Secret Garden. I stopped caring who was talking to me or in the room when a contraction came. Brian would fan my face, my toes would curl and as the pain swelled and swelled, the craziest stream of thoughts would flood my mind as I tried to breath. They ranged from German cuss words I learned from my old soccer team to good ole English ones followed by Jesus help me! I'm not a big swearer either so I was shocked by what was going on in my brain.<br />
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My thoughts vacillated between "Holy Mother, there's no way" to "This is something you've always wanted and this is the last chance to do it." I prayed in and out of contractions, "What should I do? You know better than anyone." I felt like I should go 5 more contractions. I counted them down, gripping the bed, frantically fanning myself at this point (Brian wasn't quite aggressive enough).<br />
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After the fifth contraction the nurse came in and I asked if she would check me again. It had only been 20 minutes since the doctor had checked me and said I was at a 4. She obliged and we were all shocked when she said I was at a 7. She told me I would probably be at a 10 in the next 30 minutes.<br />
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A 10 you say? My mama told me when I got to a 10 and started pushing it would stop hurting and everything would be ok.<br />
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Maybe I can do this. I think I can do this for 30 more minutes.<br />
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I told Brian I couldn't be quiet anymore. He told me to go for it, whatever I needed to do. Song switched to "Love Is Not A Fight" by Warren Barfield. The bed shook and a soft yell grew with every contraction. Pain grew 8, 9. It felt like I went into a violent trance, another world.<br />
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The nurse told me I could still have an epidural, even if I was at a 10. But they were getting the baby's station ready. That was promising. Plus my mom told me that once I started pushing everything would be ok.<br />
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20 more minutes had gone by. A contraction came and I felt something new. For a millisecond I wanted to bear down and push. Oh dear Jesus, have I made it to the promised land? I told Brian to page the nurse and spread the good news! He enthusiastically told her "She has a strong urge to push!" The nurse rushed in and I clarified that I had a tiny urge to push, a strong urge to die.<br />
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She went ahead and checked me and that's when the real craziness started. Honey you're at a 10, plus 2 (who knows what that means but it sounded like extra credit to me). A few more brain rattling contractions while an entourage of staff rushed around the room. Hmm, I'm confused because the contractions still seem to be getting worse. Mama?<br />
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Then my wonderful doctor came in. She confirmed it was time. <br />
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Whoa whoa whoa. Wait a minute everyone. Push? I'm riding this bucking bull of mind numbing pain and yeah I may want to push here and there in the midst of the chaos but, wait you're putting my feet in the stirrups? Everyone assured me I was at the end, I was so close.<br />
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My doctor knew my mom (my mom used the be the nurse at her office) so I felt comfortable sharing my confusion at this point. I told her with all sincerity that my mom said this was supposed to be the good part. Something wasn't right. This was terrible. I'd made a horrible decision. I looked at all 5 nurses/student doctors gathered around and told them if they have kids please promise me they'll get an epidural. It's sohohoho much better. This was just terrible.<br />
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Little did I know I still had to get past the ring of fire. <span style="font-size: x-small;">(I hadn't prepared for all this. I was planning on caving, remember?) </span>I pushed through two contractions repeating again that <span style="font-size: large;">my mom told me this was supposed to be the good part! </span>Can anyone hear me out there? This hurts worse than anything. The doctor told me she would be out in two more pushes. Everyone had a good laugh as I talked to myself out loud, "This really was a terrible decision. Why would anyone do this?"<br />
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That's when it happened. I had another contraction and according to Brian, I pushed her out just enough to where the top of her head and forehead were out. Then the contraction stopped. The nurses told me to relax. I was still quiet as a mouse pushing until my face was purple. What was going through my head was "Like hell I will!!!!!!" Whatever point I was at, I knew it was no place to stop. When I finally took in a breath I let out a scream and yelled at the doctor to stop whatever it was she was doing!! She lifted her hands and said it's not me, this is the ring of fire, she's almost out. She'll be out in the next contraction. I could hardly breath for the pain. I screamed and couldn't believe how long it was taking for the next contraction. I prayed out loud for God to please make it come. When it did I pushed with every ounce of my body, let out a final primal scream for the unspeakable pain,<br />
and she was out.<br />
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Everyone celebrated. We cried and held her. There she was, this beautiful child.<br />
I took a deep breath. I was filled with thankfulness that it was over and everyone was ok. I knew this wasn't something to take for granted.<br />
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What I didn't count on, however, was the following 30 minutes that were spent massaging my belly so hard it made tears stream down my face (I had a very stubborn placenta). And then the stitching.<br />
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I laid in that bed in disbelief that I had wished this on myself. I still can't. The thought of going through it again sends shivers down my spine.
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This is where I think my perspective differs from others', like my Mom's, who only ever experienced natural childbirth. They have no point of reference to judge how bad it really is. It's all they know. They don't know what it's like to spend labor resting in the quiet, laughing and joking with family, trying/pretending to push because you can't feel a dang thing. And to hold the baby in pure bliss, oblivious to any processes going on after the birth.<br />
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A small part of me is glad I didn't have to go through getting the epidural (although it's really not that bad). I'm glad I wasn't sick after the birth like I was in the past from the medicine. And I'm glad there was no chance of anything going wrong with the epidural.<br />
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With that said, what I know beyond a shadow of a doubt is that I would <span style="font-size: large;">NEVER</span> do that to myself again. I lacked the presence of mind to care at all about my SPD or how my hips felt when it came time to push. But more than that, it was simply terribly painful. I look back and feel sorry that I had to go through that. Mainly the pushing phase and delivering the placenta. Man alive. Looking back, an epidural is like a warm blanket of protection that can give the gift of <i>enjoying</i> birth.<br />
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<span style="font-size: x-small;">As a disclaimer, it's a little scary describing my labor experience because it's often such an emotionally charged issue. I realize I'm just one drop in a sea of women who have given birth and there are many different perspectives on this subject. </span></div>
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<span style="font-size: x-small;">No matter the method of arrival, the blessing that comes at the end is worth it, a million times over. </span></div>
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And speaking of that blessing, let's move on to what's really on all our minds.<br />
This is what I get to look at all day.<br />
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She's affectionately known as "Stink Bait" around these parts. <span style="font-size: x-small;">(The "in" thing to do with umbilical cords these days is to not clean it and let it rot and fall off much faster. The only problem is that it reeks like rotting flesh, which it happens to be. You could smell it through layers of clothes and swaddled in a blanket.)</span> But stinky or not, we really really really like her. What a precious gift!Angiehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04649133737692208098noreply@blogger.com7tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2110898147895686018.post-82188224618656957902012-08-30T20:21:00.001-07:002012-08-30T20:21:28.255-07:00Kennedy's Here!<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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There was nervous but genuine brotherly love. </div>
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And her sister, oh dear. She could hardly contain herself.</div>
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Newborn love. Nothing like it. </div>
Angiehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04649133737692208098noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2110898147895686018.post-26013927956619461832012-08-23T20:48:00.000-07:002012-08-23T20:49:41.049-07:00Pre-labor RamblingsWell the end of my third pregnancy is very near (it will be over in the next 12 or so hours) and there's alot on my mind. And since I haven't written anything down about this episode in our lives I thought I probably should.<br />
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First I want to say to our little addition that although we haven't documented much about you so far, you are very much wanted and dearly loved!
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<span style="font-size: x-small;">Here are our manly men putting your room together.</span></div>
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You were a complete surprise to us. We thought we were done, gave away all our baby gear, mentally started the shift to accept that our family of four was complete. The doctors had strongly suggested I not get pregnant again for health reasons and we thought we had decided to comply.<br />
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New years eve night we were in Houston with Brian's family. I felt like something was really wrong. I was tired and shivering cold but had no fever. I couldn't bring myself to get out of bed. I started Googling until I landed on low thyroid. Well at least I knew what was wrong now. I would have to see the doctor when we got back home.<br />
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But Brian kept <i>insisting</i> that I consider the possibility of being pregnant. You shut your mouth, I told him. Against my will he sent his brother to get a test from the store and I will never forget the disbelief I felt as I watched the second line faintly appear. After riding wave after wave of differing emotions, I emerged downstairs with a tear stained face to let everyone know the news.<br />
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One thing I knew was that I would look back over my life and never be able to imagine it without you.<br />
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This pregnancy hasn't been easy. I have SPD (Symphysis Pubis Dysfunction) which is basically where my body has produced too much "relaxin" hormone resulting in alot of hip and groin pain and instability. Remember the scene from Forrest Gump where he's running with braces on his legs and he goes to fast they start busting apart? That's what it feels like when I move most of the time. There's alot of popping, shifting and pain. The good news is that it should make for an easy delivery.<br />
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Everything else in the pregnancy has been pretty similar to the other two. Extreme tiredness in the beginning, good spirits most of the rest of the time. Having to sleep in a recliner, The strange scratching (or more like knifing) feeling going on in my womb. I told Brian if I die before him, I really want him to request and attend the autopsy and ask that they check out my uterus for carvings. I picture etchings like "Silas wuz here" and "Madison rocks."<br />
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<span style="font-size: x-small;">Brian graciously snapped this photo of me in my sleeping glory. The yo gabba gabba blanket makes a great pillow. And the cane behind the chair is for waking my snoring husband who can't hear my voice. We love each other.</span> </div>
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These are the feelings and impressions I've had about you. I think you will be incredibly deep. Very confident and somewhat quiet. Hopeful and intelligent.<br />
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When I was pregnant with Madison the words bright, sunny, and clear always came to mind. And that has been pretty accurate. I had no clue about Silas, I guess I was an amateur.<br />
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I have been so looking forward to those sweet indescribable moments in the beginning. The feeding and tiny preciousness. But as I'm a few days out, I'm batting fear. Fear of the injuries associated with pushing a small human out of your body. Fear of the sleep deprivation and hormonal imbalances and how it will affect my marriage and ability to mother.<br />
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I'm asking my Father to help me have joy and to rest in the peace of knowing I walk with the great Healer. That he has grace for me. That he has GOOD things, things we don't even know about, waiting for us in this new season. May my hope in Him replace the fear with excitement. That I would "smile at the future." He is always faithful!<br />
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I am so grateful for this surprise. I thank God for you little girl, the blessing growing inside me.<br />
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p.s. Your brother and sister are pretty darned excited to meet you. They've been talking to you for a while, especially your sister who sings you songs about protecting you and kisses and hugs before she goes to bed every night. I think you're gonna like them.<br />
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<span style="font-size: x-small;">Here they are getting paid a quarter to rub my swollen feet. A whole quarter!</span></div>
Angiehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04649133737692208098noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2110898147895686018.post-67327252596711057692012-08-14T21:20:00.001-07:002012-08-14T21:20:54.988-07:00Little Thespians<div style="text-align: center;">
The kids wanted to practice their angry faces at dinner. </div>
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Pretty convincing eh?</div>
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Acting!</div>
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Silas went for extra difficulty and busted out the angry turtle.</div>
Angiehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04649133737692208098noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2110898147895686018.post-70732843524373957742012-08-09T20:08:00.000-07:002012-08-09T22:41:28.276-07:00People, It's Only A Paint Respirator!I'm afraid I'm becoming that lady. You know, the one that lives in that house that all the kids in the neighborhood talk about. The house with something mysterious going on.<br />
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Over the past few months Brian's been replacing the windows in our house and adding trim around them. My job has been to go behind him and paint. These windows face all directions and never have blinds at the time I'm painting so I see all the neighbors and kids playing in the street, riding bikes down the sidewalk, etc.<br />
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I've gotten some weird stares but it wasn't until Silas snapped this picture of me with my phone that it finally dawned on me what everyone has been seeing through the other side of the window.<br />
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A lady with a huge belly wearing a scary mask. Painting...up and down, up and down.<br />
I can just hear them, "Look! She's in a different window tonight."<br />
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I guess we'll know why if we don't get any trick or treaters this year.</div>Angiehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04649133737692208098noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2110898147895686018.post-63546118393139519012012-08-07T20:34:00.002-07:002012-08-07T20:35:43.325-07:00Attempted ComebackMy little blog. How I've neglected it. Somewhere along the way I lost my photo editing software and apparently that was all that was keeping us together.<br />
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But I just read some old posts and remembered how much I like writing and remembering our stories.<br />
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And my brother bought me a new photo editing program for my birthday, which happened to be months ago, so I really can't use that excuse anymore.<br />
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With that said, I'm going to make an attempt to jump back in. Two weeks before my third child is born. Timing has always been my thing.<br />
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Our lives have been so very full lately. Aside from the more meaningful things, we added a room in the house to make space for the baby. That sounds so simple, all wrapped up in one little statement. It wasn't. Brian spent many precious free hours working so hard to get it done. And he did a really good job. After that, we remodeled the two girl rooms and got everyone situated. Again, not simple.<br />
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We finally finished unpacking our belongings which had become infested with brown recluse spiders from storage. One day will document that process in detail but I can't relive it at the moment.<br />
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I've been growing a baby. I can't wait to meet her. I want so badly to hold her and nurse her and hear her little noises and cries. And get her out of my body. (I haven't had my token break down moment where I cry in Brian's arms and tell him I can't breathe and I don't think I'll make it much longer in my fat suit, but I think it's coming.)<br />
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Our best photo from our eventful summer San Antonio vacation. </div>
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I'm sure there is much more but that's all for tonight.<br />
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I hope to be back again on a regular basis.Angiehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04649133737692208098noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2110898147895686018.post-40389445620897868302012-04-18T15:59:00.000-07:002012-08-09T22:41:44.045-07:00Time for Trouble<div style="text-align: center;">
Today was a special afternoon with Silas. It was simple but it was the kind that I treasure.</div>
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I found the game Trouble for $3 at the local consignment store while the kids were at school today </div>
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and Silas and I busted it out during Madison's nap.</div>
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It was a nail biter but I came out victorious in the end (I'm not the biggest fan of letting my kids win.) </div>
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I did, however, make the loss less painful by doing an awesome victory dance that had him rolling.</div>
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After the game we had a snack on the couch and he told me about school </div>
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(in great entertaining detail) and read me a book he made.</div>
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That boy's love language is most definitely quality time. </div>
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And it's especially powerful when his competition is napping.</div>
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Dimples mean his happy meter is off the charts.</div>Angiehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04649133737692208098noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2110898147895686018.post-14418707019763660862012-03-27T15:31:00.001-07:002012-03-27T15:33:38.301-07:00Mash's HappeningsSometime in the last month my sweet baby girl gave up her pacifier, grew long skinny legs, started speaking in paragraphs, and almost effortlessly switched from diapers to toilets. <span style="font-size: x-small;">(Don't worry, I paid my dues with Silas who took years filled with sweat and tears)</span>.<br />
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<div style="text-align: center;">Here is the first poop! It was impressive but I thought I'd spare you.</div><div style="text-align: center;"><br />
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</div><div style="text-align: center;">She read one of my old childhood chapter books to pass the time.</div>Angiehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04649133737692208098noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2110898147895686018.post-91163901481929403292012-03-20T21:51:00.000-07:002012-03-20T21:51:05.260-07:00Silas Turned 5!We decorated with streamers on his bedroom door and balloons throughout the house <span style="font-size: x-small;">(he woke Brian up in the middle of the night disturbed by the "ugly trap" someone made at his door)</span><br />
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Daddy went to work late and cooked a blueberry pancake breakfast for us. We blessed Silas, telling him what we love about him and remembering stories from his younger years.<br />
<span style="font-size: x-small;">Madison shared stories about herself in between. She REALLY struggled with Silas' birthday today. I think her faith is wavering that she will ever have one of her own. </span><br />
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We made a stop by Chuck E. Cheese to pass the morning.<br />
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Then Chick-fil-A for lunch, including ice cream.<br />
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The day ended with a pizza dinner by the lake with his buddies followed by more ice cream and games of chase, hide & seek, and races.<br />
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He may have gone to bed delirious and screaming from exhaustion but I'd say he had a fun day.<br />
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And for the year to come, I have so much anticipation for him. It should be a pretty big one. Kindergarten and becoming a big brother to another sibling!<br />
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Watching him grow would be on my "Angie's Favorite Things" list. What a privilege it is to be a mother to such a smart and passionate little man. I wouldn't trade this guy for anyone.Angiehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04649133737692208098noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2110898147895686018.post-57217835351645403362012-03-02T07:09:00.002-08:002012-03-11T10:47:08.021-07:00Dr. DanceIn the middle of moving madness (and one might say that's an understatement, but that's a story for another day) Madison had to go to the doctor. He said his name was Dr. Dance because heartbeats make him dance. <br />
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