tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9694284868393147362024-02-19T04:08:43.071-05:00momsquadI am the momhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12794548430681344396noreply@blogger.comBlogger43125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-969428486839314736.post-36831069850943788152010-09-02T16:27:00.000-04:002010-09-02T16:27:06.810-04:00By the numbers<strong>4</strong>: the average number of toys/board games/collections of toys/sets of Lego's I can clean up in <span style="color: #6fa8dc;">15 minutes</span>.<br />
<strong>37</strong>: the average number of toys/board games/collections of toys/sets of Lego's my children can dig out in those same <span style="color: #6fa8dc;">15 minutes</span>.<br />
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<strong>10</strong>: the number of children it sometimes feels/sounds like we have in our house.<br />
<strong>1/2</strong>: the factor by which that estimate is reduced when any <em>one </em>of our children is out of the house.<br />
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<strong>2</strong>: maximum number of consecutive hours I can spend out of the house without baby Mark.<br />
<strong>1.5</strong>: the number of stores I can actually visit in that amount of time.<br />
<strong>4</strong>: the number of stores I typically need to visit when I leave the house alone.<br />
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<strong>342</strong>: the approximate number of episodes of <strong><em>Phineas and Ferb</em></strong> produced by the Disney Channel since its inception.<br />
<strong>342</strong>: the approximate number of episodes of <strong><em>Phineas and Ferb</em></strong> I've been privileged to watch...usually multiple times over.<br />
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<strong>2</strong>: the number of peanut butter sandwiches our 3 oldest can split for lunch.<br />
<strong>14</strong>: the number of requests for hot dogs we must endure during said lunch.<br />
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<strong>30</strong>: the number of minutes it normally takes Mark to nurse.<br />
<strong>30</strong>: the number of minutes I accidentally<span style="color: #6fa8dc;"> </span><span style="color: #3d85c6;">slept </span>today while Mark nursed for his 11:30 feeding. Consequently also the number of minutes late lunch then became for the older kids.<br />
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<strong>500</strong>: number of times per day I wonder to myself, <em><span style="color: #3d85c6;">"what exactly am I doing here???"</span></em><br />
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<strong>783</strong>: number of times per day it's all okay...cause someone<strong> smiles</strong>I am the momhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12794548430681344396noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-969428486839314736.post-27716949964814338672010-08-25T15:46:00.000-04:002010-08-25T15:46:42.662-04:00I hear voices. No, really.It never fails. No matter what is going on in the house, the instant I step into the shower I hear them. Small little voices who are apparently related to me.<br />
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<em>Mama, Sissy hit me!</em><br />
<em>Mama, look what I made!</em><br />
<em>Mama, is it snack time? </em>(this one always comes while breakfast is <strong><span style="color: #6fa8dc;">still on the table</span></strong>)<br />
<em>Mama, can I go outside?</em><br />
<em>Mama, what's the square root of 5,337?</em> (okay, no one's asked this, but they might as well have)<br />
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I have tried so many things to dispell them. Food. Toys. Videos. Outside time. <em><strong>Money.</strong></em> But the water draws them. Even if I hear nothing for a full 20 minutes before my shower, as soon as I'm wet they come. They need kisses when I have shampoo in my hair and referee-ing (is that a word?) while I wash my face. <em><span style="color: #6fa8dc;">Nevermind</span></em> what they do while I shave my legs...<br />
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I've heard rumors of other women experiencing the same thing. Perhaps there should be a support group, maybe an <strong>underground network</strong> of mildly-insane mothers. I'm thinking of enlisting the help of one of those paranormal study groups you see on television. I'll let you know how that goes...I am the momhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12794548430681344396noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-969428486839314736.post-76250237335357195092010-08-17T23:24:00.000-04:002010-08-17T23:24:26.247-04:00I think I'm in like (alternately titled: are there enough parnetheses in this post?)<div style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none;">I've found a new friend. One that helps me immensly. In an unexpected place, I might add. You see...I am not <span style="color: #3d85c6;">"</span><a href="http://en.wiktionary.org/wiki/crunchy"><span style="color: #3d85c6;">crunchy</span></a><span style="color: #3d85c6;">"</span> (see definition #2). At all. On those little "How Green Are You?" quizzes, I generally get about 2 points, one for recycling (which is probably the easiest, most accessible (read: lazy) way to be any shade of green) and one for packing my kids' lunches in reusable containers (which I honestly do only because it costs less money). So that's the sum of my crunchiness. Except for this:</div><div style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none;"></div><div style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none;"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://w03.static-wize.com/photos/large/439782.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="cssfloat: left; margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="125" ox="true" src="http://w03.static-wize.com/photos/large/439782.jpg" width="200" /></a></div><div style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none; text-align: center;"><span style="color: #3d85c6;"><span style="font-size: x-small;">(not actually me. </span><span style="font-size: x-small;">or my baby. </span></span><span style="color: #3d85c6; font-size: x-small;">but it<strong> is</strong> the same color as mine.)</span></div><div style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none;"><br />
</div><div style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none;">This is a Hotsling...and I feel special wearing it. Now, babywearing is generally a <strong>crunchy</strong> thing to do--it keeps you attached to your baby, promoting bonding and happiness...or <em>something like that</em>. Truthfully, I bought this thing with one image in mind: <span style="color: #3d85c6;"><strong>a Wal-Mart shopping cart</strong></span>. Imagine me, pushing my cart with my cute, talkative <span style="color: #3d85c6;">2-year-old</span> in the seat; my wandering, equally cute and talkative <span style="color: #3d85c6;">4-year-old</span> walking beside (or more likely 8 feet in front of) me; my<span style="color: #3d85c6;"> brand-new</span> infant in his humongous, high weight infant seat taking up the entire basket of the cart; and my <span style="color: #3d85c6;">groceries</span>, sitting...where??? Exactly. This became my biggest worry at about 7 months pregnant, so I found a workable solution. Workable, of course, meaning relatively cheap (Ebay, my friends, Ebay) and easy to use.</div><div style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none;"><br />
</div><div style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none;">Fast forward a few months and we find a new level of weirdness--<strong>Mark. Does. Not. Like. A. <em>Pacifier!</em></strong> Maybe it's just me, but this is a huge big deal. I mean, how else do you get a baby quiet at the drop of a hat (or in this case, a piece of silicone)? Paci's have always been a welcome,<em> loved</em> untensil in our babyworld...until now. Enter the wonders of the sling. Baby's sleepy and we're going into a store (church, doctor's appt, park, etc...)? <span style="color: #3d85c6;"><strong>Hotsling.</strong></span> Baby is almost ready to nurse and I need 10 minutes to make lunch for the rest of the tribe? <strong><span style="color: #3d85c6;">Hotsling.</span></strong> I've actually decided to actually try grocery shopping without leaving the kids at home with Daddy? <strong><span style="color: #3d85c6;">Hotsling.</span></strong> Oh, and the Museum of Life and Science? <span style="color: #3d85c6;"><strong>Hotsling ALL the way.</strong></span></div><div style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none;"><br />
</div><div style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none;">You know that feeling you get when you've conquered a little piece of the world?</div><div style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none;"><br />
</div><div style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none;"><span style="color: #3d85c6;"><em>Yeah. I gots it.</em></span></div>I am the momhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12794548430681344396noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-969428486839314736.post-24347952985498763732010-08-06T16:01:00.000-04:002010-08-06T16:01:48.953-04:00I can see the future.I caught a vision tonight of my son. My baby son, who clutches my shirt as he nurses and squishes into a little lump when he falls asleep. As I podered his <span style="color: #6fa8dc;">babyness</span> while rocking him in his room, I could see him in his <span style="color: #6fa8dc;">brothers'</span> footsteps...<br />
<br />
...at the table eating waffles with the sun shining through the window behind him.<br />
...climbing into his <span style="color: #6fa8dc;">"big boy"</span> bed, which is really just the crib without a rail.<br />
...running to chase balls down the slope of our back yard.<br />
...walking toward the school building paying <span style="color: #6fa8dc;">no attention</span> to the fact that he just left his <em><strong>mother</strong></em> in the car.<br />
<br />
Woah.I am the momhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12794548430681344396noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-969428486839314736.post-72641950699775068862010-07-30T23:08:00.000-04:002010-07-30T23:08:20.321-04:00A Boy and His Blocks<strong><em>If you give a boy some Legos...</em></strong><br />
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</div><div style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none; text-align: center;">he may or may not ask for the instructions.</div><div style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgLdb1_FrayATzJd37b_Sq0Gmi_nrmC-cqsSqG03bmfs_OdUYMetPUxZ7XXIU38w-B1XtO0nBCET-zIVAiDgUqZJRjgArj49AQPniZrUGjiS0oWbB3GaxLGCSTFcfPapFiqSuIXf0ZiPyAK/s1600/DSC_0318.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; cssfloat: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" bx="true" height="132" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgLdb1_FrayATzJd37b_Sq0Gmi_nrmC-cqsSqG03bmfs_OdUYMetPUxZ7XXIU38w-B1XtO0nBCET-zIVAiDgUqZJRjgArj49AQPniZrUGjiS0oWbB3GaxLGCSTFcfPapFiqSuIXf0ZiPyAK/s200/DSC_0318.JPG" width="200" /></a></div><div style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none;"><br />
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</div><div style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgJh7rV21Ux0pSFqgIrt10i9B4LHvS0B4jCby0GqPE90OvG-esCFF0lRpI9wWbvL4ib2p6CirIqEoHRBoNwN9tT4DhYaA3r3lnEzK81pa6Bpc7MuAk7pWNxTxyQ1NFsu1vnsnIbSdse_BU1/s1600/DSC_0319.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; cssfloat: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" bx="true" height="200" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgJh7rV21Ux0pSFqgIrt10i9B4LHvS0B4jCby0GqPE90OvG-esCFF0lRpI9wWbvL4ib2p6CirIqEoHRBoNwN9tT4DhYaA3r3lnEzK81pa6Bpc7MuAk7pWNxTxyQ1NFsu1vnsnIbSdse_BU1/s200/DSC_0319.JPG" width="131" /></a></div><div style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none;">He'll make sure all the personnel are in order.</div><div style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none; text-align: right;"><br />
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</div><div style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none; text-align: right;">His work will start a trend among his peers,</div><div class="separator" style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none; clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgPu-v0fVe2kLDoxEv4nDNRmuCBfv-r-5kj1FukqwvEOdOzHur_n5y3w682yfntXt1AvJ1huSGsWhxGbmNooPJ017yhUBbaYDhjomwsf1x_CMmb_h6Ny1vQQU-DjNv-GaO0btsUZcwiNAhD/s1600/DSC_0321.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; cssfloat: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" bx="true" height="200" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgPu-v0fVe2kLDoxEv4nDNRmuCBfv-r-5kj1FukqwvEOdOzHur_n5y3w682yfntXt1AvJ1huSGsWhxGbmNooPJ017yhUBbaYDhjomwsf1x_CMmb_h6Ny1vQQU-DjNv-GaO0btsUZcwiNAhD/s200/DSC_0321.JPG" width="132" /></a><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjGk0lz3OJw0oE4BNhue0JfuWxseomEBSsQek-OCzp7rKob90puIaUM_qDIkD1ymL7FQos6IeJmwjzu5HoHz_95eyC2iCZinWi6myByOrLXTTCNkLFpYyTqQpFU4lQIZwXkqslirTBJA5uk/s1600/DSC_0324.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" bx="true" height="200" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjGk0lz3OJw0oE4BNhue0JfuWxseomEBSsQek-OCzp7rKob90puIaUM_qDIkD1ymL7FQos6IeJmwjzu5HoHz_95eyC2iCZinWi6myByOrLXTTCNkLFpYyTqQpFU4lQIZwXkqslirTBJA5uk/s200/DSC_0324.JPG" width="132" /></a></div><div style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none;">but he will remain focused on his task.</div><div style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhzEe8f9P-iRnGKmJiOAxQyW2CuUep2Lfx-ou9NHKvkmdZPZ-cHGiIDzLm21NxKlwQ9P8GG0baA1iyqjgBJkE7o3ianelNFst117XmelMMmJz9N5ak2RBLSPl0XN-WikwoHaBzywyE7hYjt/s1600/DSC_0323.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; cssfloat: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" bx="true" height="200" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhzEe8f9P-iRnGKmJiOAxQyW2CuUep2Lfx-ou9NHKvkmdZPZ-cHGiIDzLm21NxKlwQ9P8GG0baA1iyqjgBJkE7o3ianelNFst117XmelMMmJz9N5ak2RBLSPl0XN-WikwoHaBzywyE7hYjt/s200/DSC_0323.JPG" width="132" /></a></div><div style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none;"><br />
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</div><div style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none;">He will work until his project is finished...</div><div class="separator" style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none; clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgRPgG_es40P0EV6nYezD5T5qD7NvBFUtEs5cklAaxt2A4-vKIE_lT5YKzOTQxQIemf-scom5Z2NWK3_cuei-9xUaZGXFNeSTtjzKgmypUy4AUf7_UZ3I9cKzRYtdlVxzlUGYKVdOCLYOdn/s1600/DSC_0330.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" bx="true" height="132" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgRPgG_es40P0EV6nYezD5T5qD7NvBFUtEs5cklAaxt2A4-vKIE_lT5YKzOTQxQIemf-scom5Z2NWK3_cuei-9xUaZGXFNeSTtjzKgmypUy4AUf7_UZ3I9cKzRYtdlVxzlUGYKVdOCLYOdn/s200/DSC_0330.JPG" width="200" /></a></div><div style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none; text-align: right;">...with a few pieces left over.</div><div class="separator" style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none; clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEix883ZMVq8zqCJXG7Ms5tcsKjrPzMGw8sz_un97Q87ct8rYG86tdiCHRlXuViA_BUJaeVHIyv1w9PyiO4ChWd7_Jwyb0gXhcmb-Z6RrwPBdPlTnkHTVhc6paWfTqze3eOVgfjfn7RhVCdN/s1600/DSC_0331.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; cssfloat: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" bx="true" height="132" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEix883ZMVq8zqCJXG7Ms5tcsKjrPzMGw8sz_un97Q87ct8rYG86tdiCHRlXuViA_BUJaeVHIyv1w9PyiO4ChWd7_Jwyb0gXhcmb-Z6RrwPBdPlTnkHTVhc6paWfTqze3eOVgfjfn7RhVCdN/s200/DSC_0331.JPG" width="200" /></a></div>I am the momhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12794548430681344396noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-969428486839314736.post-51614876289929756192010-07-30T16:08:00.000-04:002010-07-30T16:08:26.397-04:00A Princess Tale<div style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi7Lj1AmEEypC97-qWxN_hKkAJjfV1gG_KbwYIwx4wGNjmA57joX9pMuNA2ozkLFB9o41m-osWdb8UZda7RjmZITlo3oDQmW7np-RHeOeeyP9sDYgYRDNSxtrIK1rttqzwSsMHM53BVxBYC/s1600/DSC_0244.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; cssfloat: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" bx="true" height="132" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi7Lj1AmEEypC97-qWxN_hKkAJjfV1gG_KbwYIwx4wGNjmA57joX9pMuNA2ozkLFB9o41m-osWdb8UZda7RjmZITlo3oDQmW7np-RHeOeeyP9sDYgYRDNSxtrIK1rttqzwSsMHM53BVxBYC/s200/DSC_0244.JPG" width="200" /></a></div><div style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none; text-align: left;"><strong><em><span style="color: black;">If you give a girl a princess dress...</span></em></strong></div><div style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none;"><br />
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</div><div style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none;">she'll need a purse to go with it.</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjdT5AY35k_6UtAqWHpKchrlBLvnsC5l794dBT-OfseqscMoEZtua_1GAFWiI-XNsNrZiHj2eQs2itcWBBpOoNCJl_MP6ZFNUjIzQxbfSYPCVqd_fNA9aiydmseP30xN9Sf1LLs5hkwlt1m/s1600/DSC_0254.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" bx="true" height="132" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjdT5AY35k_6UtAqWHpKchrlBLvnsC5l794dBT-OfseqscMoEZtua_1GAFWiI-XNsNrZiHj2eQs2itcWBBpOoNCJl_MP6ZFNUjIzQxbfSYPCVqd_fNA9aiydmseP30xN9Sf1LLs5hkwlt1m/s200/DSC_0254.JPG" width="200" /></a></div><div style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none;">She'll want to wear all her best jewelry,</div><div style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj2a82Hzoa-IobyYwAa2Qk7Yg3cnUjbUuAhXoqtFV6zUU_IdTJ6EW5sKQmQd4XI9dYkf0FyQkQGni5R4TS0rMVRFa63MAKkCctzRvgxdvbOZpAzdsc_etmtApu42bSRpXTHjC9QRifxB4sS/s1600/DSC_0256.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; cssfloat: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" bx="true" height="132" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj2a82Hzoa-IobyYwAa2Qk7Yg3cnUjbUuAhXoqtFV6zUU_IdTJ6EW5sKQmQd4XI9dYkf0FyQkQGni5R4TS0rMVRFa63MAKkCctzRvgxdvbOZpAzdsc_etmtApu42bSRpXTHjC9QRifxB4sS/s200/DSC_0256.JPG" width="200" /></a></div><div style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none;"><br />
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</div><div style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none; text-align: center;">and she absolutely must have a tiara.</div><div style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjRwk6FN_WQGRZ0Q4e9EJjzhzF7xJZU9pxsS8TOtiErdFcMpZTDGI710sYJDN-8yTzHZZxdntNJnjZfAASGDVM6ujvm9DxpDhYm5t2qJpWQQ-q8Jxb9aTPaGJTbNLAkxEuWHklv6LmUhKs4/s1600/DSC_0250.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; cssfloat: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" bx="true" height="132" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjRwk6FN_WQGRZ0Q4e9EJjzhzF7xJZU9pxsS8TOtiErdFcMpZTDGI710sYJDN-8yTzHZZxdntNJnjZfAASGDVM6ujvm9DxpDhYm5t2qJpWQQ-q8Jxb9aTPaGJTbNLAkxEuWHklv6LmUhKs4/s200/DSC_0250.JPG" width="200" /></a></div><div style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none;"><br />
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</div><div style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none;">She'll pull out all her favorite princess books,</div><div style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgHCh07Kz79pSbR4oraIeJFTwdlTXVUMwmNJFX71SbsLP6KBBOwOvBc7Uqy-yP8qL-yAozo4skWCVeZbIUjAnPEefSWIK6kDjRyqT6Xssyp7AcfYt4P2oTGm6iIRze3uK8SMPYkp6eIELSl/s1600/DSC_0307.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; cssfloat: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" bx="true" height="132" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgHCh07Kz79pSbR4oraIeJFTwdlTXVUMwmNJFX71SbsLP6KBBOwOvBc7Uqy-yP8qL-yAozo4skWCVeZbIUjAnPEefSWIK6kDjRyqT6Xssyp7AcfYt4P2oTGm6iIRze3uK8SMPYkp6eIELSl/s200/DSC_0307.JPG" width="200" /></a></div><div style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none;"><br />
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</div><div style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none; text-align: right;">and she might even build her own castle.</div><div class="separator" style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none; clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjjU55c9HX8J0RWWk2_WauKpLzXbIcstuTy4qyEKWbov2E4INJFod2-5LvbJ2ymjDUhW6k6M-zpUT_rZLzIJ0GKdOdvHjBX__PMPHiBNXLdzJONkxCj6uZw1dzHDjn0JzFyr8lpWnfEw38v/s1600/DSC_0312.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" bx="true" height="132" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjjU55c9HX8J0RWWk2_WauKpLzXbIcstuTy4qyEKWbov2E4INJFod2-5LvbJ2ymjDUhW6k6M-zpUT_rZLzIJ0GKdOdvHjBX__PMPHiBNXLdzJONkxCj6uZw1dzHDjn0JzFyr8lpWnfEw38v/s200/DSC_0312.JPG" width="200" /></a></div><div style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none;">Once she's finished, she'll need a snack...</div><div style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none;">so of course she'll host her own tea party.</div><div style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgzNEto-XnKvyCycCQe21qGEjoCKA1mK-Czp45JWTiGCQ7WfUGn18g6Lv15cKMOZ1XzdWADE0Y9Ubb7ICZQE-jgkRLBvUg5qplNMf4zSXKbqX0b0nQKokyTRE46h_POJ22qW80ImPk6eSVr/s1600/DSC_0259.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; cssfloat: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" bx="true" height="200" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgzNEto-XnKvyCycCQe21qGEjoCKA1mK-Czp45JWTiGCQ7WfUGn18g6Lv15cKMOZ1XzdWADE0Y9Ubb7ICZQE-jgkRLBvUg5qplNMf4zSXKbqX0b0nQKokyTRE46h_POJ22qW80ImPk6eSVr/s200/DSC_0259.JPG" width="132" /></a></div><div style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none;"><br />
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</div><div style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none; text-align: center;">She pays attention to even the smallest details.</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgACdyDGr6q_JYDys7EGH5gO_utPMRSh3JOZlS9NB0DkuxFHsd1GyJcMouZA3JYNg3Wj0u_ZBRJ3hNHdUZg0cwe-wvXjMm8qXQaTkJLINbNyB2NclU60-1g3Gwe79hfcFWqL1hkIycrTamv/s1600/DSC_0311.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" bx="true" height="132" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgACdyDGr6q_JYDys7EGH5gO_utPMRSh3JOZlS9NB0DkuxFHsd1GyJcMouZA3JYNg3Wj0u_ZBRJ3hNHdUZg0cwe-wvXjMm8qXQaTkJLINbNyB2NclU60-1g3Gwe79hfcFWqL1hkIycrTamv/s200/DSC_0311.JPG" width="200" /></a></div><div style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none; text-align: right;">She is, after all, a princess.</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjm_j_qaD_62Kw9rqI1pXe7MHHSydL0g1mv1Mr76Pq9ht_HYGGUPFt7A0-SAjxaTjqGwc8jA1zcBnwdsQ2EBTPNlvXbX9YqpOHmPOkQqEMJjCFZG7CSx9FgxtuJ9XkpnYL1_r5m_quAW6zu/s1600/DSC_0178.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; cssfloat: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" bx="true" height="132" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjm_j_qaD_62Kw9rqI1pXe7MHHSydL0g1mv1Mr76Pq9ht_HYGGUPFt7A0-SAjxaTjqGwc8jA1zcBnwdsQ2EBTPNlvXbX9YqpOHmPOkQqEMJjCFZG7CSx9FgxtuJ9XkpnYL1_r5m_quAW6zu/s200/DSC_0178.JPG" width="200" /></a></div><div style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none; text-align: right;"><br />
</div>I am the momhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12794548430681344396noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-969428486839314736.post-69807919616070638482009-12-09T15:57:00.002-05:002009-12-09T16:01:00.490-05:00ShamelessI admit it. I am <strong><em><span style="color:#ffffff;">shamelessly</span></em></strong> making a post for the sole purpose of advertising this giveaway (and thereby gaining another entry therein). I apologize to anyone who got their hopes up. :D<br /><br />MckMama is hosting a giveaway for a new HP Touchsmart 600 computer. And I'm a nerd, so while I do not actually think I will win said computer in a million years, <em><span style="color:#ffffff;">it would be SOOOOOOO cool if I did!</span></em> Check out the full info <a href="http://mckgiveaways.blogspot.com/2009/12/hp-touchsmart-giveaway.html">here</a>.I am the momhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12794548430681344396noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-969428486839314736.post-46613894803115300202009-08-16T16:45:00.005-04:002009-08-16T17:19:14.311-04:00Funk.<strong><em><span style="color:#ffffff;">Boo!</span></em></strong><br /><br />Did you miss me?<br /><br />I think at least one person did. In the midst of mission trips to Haiti, first anniversaries, and tripling coupons like mad...perhaps you missed me too. :) I'll just assume you did, since it makes me feel better. <strong>Thanks so much.</strong><br /><br />And now for <strong><em>the funk</em></strong>...<br /><br />I credit my husband with the first use of this term to describe a day when he was feeling a bit "off". We've come to understand its meaning and most of what is being said when we report <strong><em>the funk</em></strong> to each other. To give you an idea of what I'm talking about, here are some definite signs of <em><strong>the funk</strong></em>:<br /><ol><li>Everything <span style="color:#ffffff;">irks</span> you just a little bit.</li><li>You want peace and quiet more than anything else in the world.</li><li>You find yourself staring into nothing (you know, a lot more than usual).</li><li>There's some sort of mental block set deep in your brain--you feel like you're thinking through<em> <span style="color:#ffffff;">mud</span></em>.</li><li>Things that normally make you happy suddenly make you go "Eh. Okay."</li><li>You distance yourself from other people, then wonder why those other people seem distant.</li><li>On second thought, even more than peace and quiet, you want a nice long hug from your <strong><span style="color:#ffffff;">very best friend</span></strong>.</li><li>You feel the urge to be just a little <span style="color:#ffffff;">ticked off</span> at God...along with the simultaneous urge to throw yourself at His feet and<em><span style="color:#ffffff;"> beg</span></em> for comfort and love.</li></ol><p>Such is the nature of <strong><em>the funk</em></strong>. Things you can not deny feeling but know you have no reason to feel. <strong><em>The funk</em></strong> has been visited upon me for at least a solid week now. In fact, I think it's been slowly building for some time. Round and round and round it goes, where it stops...nobody knows. Perhaps a decision on my part. Perhaps a song. Perhaps a note from a friend. Perhaps something I read...<em><span style="color:#ffffff;">perhaps</span></em>.</p><p>The most encouraging thing about <strong><em>the funk</em></strong> is that it is not a chronic condition. And my <strong><span style="color:#ffffff;">"brain mud"</span></strong> may be all washed away by the time I wake up tomorrow. We shall see.</p>I am the momhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12794548430681344396noreply@blogger.com5tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-969428486839314736.post-10773960701955679932009-07-26T21:43:00.004-04:002009-07-27T14:19:17.052-04:00miracles...Kelli Allen, a wonderful excellent friend of mine, told me somewhere between our first and second child that the real <strong><em>miracle</em></strong> of childbirth is that you usually forget about it enough to do it again.<br /><br />I should stop right there and say: <span style="color:#ffffff;">No, Mama, I'm not pregnant.</span><br /><br />I'm talking about that wonderful church institution that drains an entire congregation's energy for a whole week: <strong>Vacation Bible School</strong>. Because it has occurred to me this year that VBS is a lot like childbirth in the way Kelli described it. Each year I spend weeks <em>planning</em>, <em>improvising</em> activities that I simply like better than the ones in the curriculum, and <em>cutting </em>out all those aggravating pieces of cardstock Lifeway likes to make part of every leader pack. Then I decorate, which usually involves<em> climbing</em> on chairs, <em>moving</em> heavy furniture, and <em>more</em> aggravating pieces of cardstock. And then...<strong><em><span style="color:#ffffff;">it's on</span></em></strong>. The children descend upon the church and the fun begins. Except some nights I wouldn't go right to <strong><em>fun</em></strong>. But despite the weariness at the end of the week, when this magical time arrives again next year you are likely to find me in a decorated classroom with my aggravating cardstock cut-outs all over again. Nevermind the fact that I've <span style="color:#ffffff;">already</span> determined I need a break next year. I've counted it up and found that I've taught VBS for <strong>9</strong> years now (I did skip a year right after Luke was born)...which does not seem so very long until you think about the fact that I'm only<strong> 26</strong>!!! Maybe a break is in order. <em><span style="color:#ffffff;">Ask me next year.<br /></span></em><br />VBS holds many small-scale miracles, to be sure. Gathering such a large group of children for a concentrated week of teaching <strong>God's word</strong>--that's a miracle. The closeness each class acheives by the end of the week--that's a miracle. And the fact that nearly the <em><strong>same</strong></em> people make VBS a sucess year after year--that's most certainly a miracle.I am the momhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12794548430681344396noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-969428486839314736.post-10135445315524243672009-07-23T22:55:00.002-04:002009-07-23T23:32:17.431-04:00Reasons I'm a Good MomI need this post. Ever have one of those days? Mine was yesterday. So indulge me. <em><strong>Thankyouverymuch.</strong></em><br /><br />I've determined I'm a good mom because...<br /><ol><li>I vacuum Lego's out of my kitchen vent.</li><li>I make my daughter <strong><span style="color:#ffffff;">oatmeal</span></strong> for dinner if she really wants it.</li><li>I keep my children's toys in order (I also keep them from mixing up all the Play-doh, but <em><span style="color:#ffffff;">we won't go there</span></em>)</li><li>I support my son in his slightly OCD habits...mostly because they're my habits too. :)</li><li>I sometimes cry when I see my little girl all dressed for dance class.</li><li>I iron their church clothes. And I always make sure their shoes match. And Sissy's hair accessories. Every great once in awhile, <strong>the whole family</strong> matches! My husband <em>loves</em> that.</li><li>I spend time away from my kids. <span style="color:#ffffff;">Without</span> feeling guilty about it.</li><li>I always know what to order them at McDonald's and Chick-fil-A so that everyone gets enough nuggets and fruit for themselves...only sometimes Bubba likes a cheeseburger.</li><li>I often have a<strong><em> sixth sense</em></strong> about where to look for lost things.</li><li>I know the name of every character of every movie they've ever seen. I'm a <span style="color:#ffffff;">fount of useless </span><span style="color:#ffffff;">knowledge</span> like that.</li><li>I like watching the <strong>Imagination Movers</strong>. And the <strong>Backyardigans</strong>. And <strong>Wall-E</strong>. And...well, <em>we'll just leave it at that</em>.</li><li>I change songs on the CDs in the car on demand...<span style="color:#ffffff;">most of the time</span>.</li><li>I seem to have a knack for boiling down great truths of God so that Luke actually runs out of questions. For example, <em><span style="color:#ffffff;">Mama, are there stores in heaven? No, baby. We won't need stores in heaven. Then how will I buy Power Miners there? God has everything in heaven we need to be happy forever, baby. Oh. Okay.</span></em></li><li>I have apparently taught my children enough about God that they know to <strong>ask these questions</strong>.</li></ol>I am the momhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12794548430681344396noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-969428486839314736.post-70985244524150186272009-07-06T21:34:00.014-04:002009-07-08T16:09:48.188-04:00a little visit with mom...and a little time with GodBe warned. This is <strong><span style="color:#ffffff;">deep</span></strong>. And a little painful. But it ends on a happy note, so read on if you like. Just don't say I didn't warn you. :)<br /><br />If you've read <a href="http://dickerson5.blogspot.com/2009/05/thought-about-mothers.html">this post</a>, you may have gathered that I don't have much of a relationship with my mom. Well, last week I had a chance to spend nearly <em><strong>two whole days</strong></em> with her. I have to admit I was a little scared. <span style="color:#ffffff;">Okay a lot scared.</span> I thought of staying home, but my sister needed my support so I went. Here's some of the good and bad that followed:<br /><br />First, it is important for me to say that I do not <em>hate</em> my mother. I do not <em>resent</em> her, nor do I <em>blame</em> her for anything that is "off" in my own life. This is not an <em><span style="color:#ffffff;">"oh I can't stand that woman"</span></em> type of post.<br /><br />I <em>love</em> my mother...a fact that often <strong><span style="color:#ffffff;">blows up in my face</span></strong> when I'm around her.<br /><br />You see, my mother is...<em>broken</em>. After years of misfortune, bad decisions, lack of support, and an outright abuse of several types of medication, my mom is a <span style="color:#ffffff;">shell</span> of the person she once was. Each time I see her I am hopeful I will see a glimpse of the woman who was <strong>strong enough</strong> to raise me on her own for several years before she began her descent. Last week, before we arrived in South Carolina for my sister's basic training graduation, I was filled with so much...<em>hope</em>. <em>Hope</em> that since mom was sober when I talked to her on the phone she would be okay when I saw her. <em>Hope</em> that she would not come with a week's supply of pills for only two days. <em>Hope</em> that she would be my mom in the way I remember her before all this and not some broken, pitiful, incompetent woman that I am obligated to spend time with.<br /><br />Keep in mind that the only <em>hope</em> that does not disappoint is found in <em><strong><span style="color:#ffffff;">Christ</span></strong></em>...because this particular <em>hope</em> of mine was certainly <strong>shattered</strong>. And yet I am not terribly upset or disappointed. Specifically because <em><strong><span style="color:#ffffff;">Christ</span></strong></em> does not disappoint.<br /><br />I believe God can use even the smallest things to reach my heart. Sometimes it becomes clear to me that I believe that <span style="color:#ffffff;">in my head</span> and not so much in practice. Of course, that fact is clear<em>est</em> when He does break through my little human fog to reach<em> into my heart</em>. Such was the case as I sat outside our hotel near Fort Jackson, waiting for my uncle to arrive with my mom. He had already warned me of her <em>slightly</em> incapacitated state <span style="color:#ffffff;">(yes that's an understatement)</span> and I could feel the anxiety brewing in the pit of my stomach. Not just butterflies, mind you, but <strong>large, heavy boulders of dread</strong>...the kind that make you feel hot from the inside out and force you to consider losing your dinner on the sidewalk. I sat in my car for nearly an hour, waiting while they stopped for food and made the final leg of the trip.<br /><br />Why would one sit in a car in the South Carolina heat for an hour without going inside the hotel? <strong><span style="color:#ffffff;">Fear.</span></strong> And what does one do for an hour in the car? Watch the people swimming in the hotel's pool; read through <strong><span style="color:#ffffff;">Ephesians chapter 3</span></strong>, which talks about the unfathomable love of <strong><em><span style="color:#ffffff;">Christ</span></em></strong>; and listen to music that I honestly <em>was not</em> in love with. Out of boredom...and lack of good radio stations. While I'm sitting in my car worrying and not-listening to <strong>The Best of the Gaither Vocal Band, volume 1</strong>, a slightly familiar song begins. I recognize the chorus, but I would never have pulled that particular song out of the back of my mind for any purpose.<br /><br /><strong><em>Until now.</em></strong><br /><br />Here are the words I heard, sung by Michael English:<br /><br /><em><span style="color:#ffffff;">Lily of the Valley, let your sweet aroma fill my life</span></em><br /><em><span style="color:#ffffff;">Rose of Sharon show me how to grow in beauty in God's sight</span></em><br /><em><span style="color:#ffffff;">Fairest of ten thousand make me a reflection of your light</span></em><br /><em><span style="color:#ffffff;">Daystar shine down on me let your love shine through me in the night</span></em><br /><em><span style="color:#ffffff;"></span></em><br /><em><span style="color:#ffffff;">Lead me Lord, I'll follow...anywhere you open up the door</span></em><br /><em><span style="color:#ffffff;">Let your word speak to me, show me what I've never seen before</span></em><br /><em><span style="color:#ffffff;">Lord I want to be your witness, you can take what's wrong and make it right</span></em><br /><em><span style="color:#ffffff;">Daystar shine down on me, let your love shine through me in the night</span></em><br /><em><span style="color:#ffffff;"></span></em><br /><em><span style="color:#ffffff;"><strong>Lord I've seen a world that's dying, wounded by the master of deceit</strong></span></em><br /><em><span style="color:#ffffff;"><strong>Groping in the darkness, haunted by the years of past defeat</strong></span></em><br /><em><span style="color:#ffffff;"><strong>But when I see you standing near me, shining with compassion in your eyes</strong></span></em><br /><em><span style="color:#ffffff;"><strong>I pray Jesus shine down on me let your love shine through me in the night</strong></span></em><br /><em><span style="color:#ffffff;"></span></em><br /><em><span style="color:#ffffff;">Lead me Lord, I'll follow anywhere you open up the door</span></em><br /><em><span style="color:#ffffff;">Let your word speak to me, show me what I've never seen before</span></em><br /><em><span style="color:#ffffff;">Lord I want to be your witness, you can take what's wrong and make it right</span></em><br /><em><span style="color:#ffffff;">Daystar shine down on me, let your love shine through me in the night</span></em><br /><br />That second verse is in bold because it was almost like a description of my relationship with my mom--she is certainly <strong>wounded</strong> by the master of deceit, <strong>groping</strong> in the darkness, and <strong>haunted </strong>by her years of past defeat. And, having placed my trust in Jesus Christ, I am the one who sees Him standing near with<strong><span style="color:#ffffff;"> compassion</span></strong> in his eyes. After I heard this song...and heard it again...and heard it again, my worry seemed to scamper off and hide in the corner because a great <span style="color:#ffffff;">light</span> had been shed on the purpose behind this little gathering we were about to have. It was not a chore. It was not a horrific, terrifying, dreadful encounter with someone I would just as soon not involve in my life. It was not destined for disaster. <span style="color:#ffffff;"><strong>It was an opportunity.</strong></span> Because you see, my life is<em> blessed</em>...and it is <em>beautiful</em>. But it is that way because <strong>the Lord</strong> proclaimed it so. I did not earn my husband or his salary. I did not earn the most beautiful children in the world (yes, they are). I did not earn my college education. I did not earn what little bit of the knowledge of God I posess. I have been granted each of these things because of <strong><em><span style="color:#ffffff;">His</span></em></strong> grace and mercy and it is now my <strong>responsibility</strong> to take the love He has lavished upon me and pour it out to a fallen world so that they might have <span style="color:#ffffff;">life</span>...and have it more <span style="color:#ffffff;">abundantly</span>.<br /><br />My mother does not <em>need</em> me to tell her she is screwing up her life. In times of heartfelt honesty, she has told me that herself. She does not <em>need</em> me to preach to her or guilt-trip her (yeah, that's a verb) about the ways I think she failed as a mother. She does not <em>need</em> me...at all. She needs <strong><span style="color:#ffffff;">Jesus</span></strong>. And I know Him. Matthew says to us in the New Testament: <em><span style="color:#ffffff;">"let your light shine before men, that they may see your good works and glorify your father in heaven" (Matthew 5:16)</span></em>. So my mission is this: <strong><span style="color:#ffffff;">shine</span></strong>. Radiate a blinding light that no one can deny comes from God himself. Do I know how to do this? <em><span style="color:#ffffff;">I haven't the foggiest.</span></em> But I have my instruction manual. And I have a never-ending supply of all-sufficient grace. And that's an excellent place to start.<br /><br />Were those two days a picnic? <strong><span style="color:#ffffff;">No.</span></strong> Was my mom a disappointment in the way she acted? <strong><span style="color:#ffffff;">Yes.</span></strong> But did I spend my time ignoring her, resenting her, or even outright hating the fact that she was with me? <strong><span style="color:#ffffff;">No.</span></strong> Why? <em><span style="color:#ffffff;">I'm so glad you asked.</span></em> Because in order for her to see love, I must be for her what she can not be for herself. I must not come with standards for her to live up to...because really, which of us measures up to the Father's expectations? And I must be the light she lacks in her life. After all, <em><span style="color:#ffffff;"><strong>I can do all things...through Christ, who strengthens me</strong></span></em>.I am the momhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12794548430681344396noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-969428486839314736.post-35872788406798319992009-07-06T19:14:00.005-04:002009-07-07T15:58:11.276-04:00Not Me! Monday-almost-Tuesday<center> <a href="http://www.mycharmingkids.net/"> <img src="http://i145.photobucket.com/albums/r208/jennisajoy/OUAB/NotMeMondaySIDEBAR180x180.jpg"/> </a></center><br /><br />You know the drill. <a href="http://www.mycharmingkids.net/2009/07/not-me-monday.html">MckMama</a> has a blog carnival. I write. Here goes.<br /><br />First off, I would like to say that I am <em>not</em> in the least bit disappointed that MckMama selected a new <span style="color:#ffffff;">Not Me! Monday</span> button that no longer matches my blog colors. I did not briefly mention my love for the old button in <a href="http://dickerson5.blogspot.com/2009/06/not-me-monday.html">this</a> post. Because really, <strong>who cares</strong> if the buttons I post to my blog match the template colors? I am not considering copying the html code from the old button and continuing to use it in rebellion. Not me...<br /><br />My husband and I did <em>not</em> each spend about 20 minutes last night searching our house for our beloved stool that is <strong>supposed</strong> to live in our bedroom. Said stool could have potentially been used for perching upon while washing our handful of <span style="color:#ffffff;"><em>very dirty children</em></span> in our oversized master bathtub. But the two of us did not spend a good chunk of the evening looking for the silly thing...and we certainly did <em>not</em> find it in a very conspicuous place like <strong><em><span style="color:#ffffff;">the middle of our kitchen</span></em></strong>.<br /><br />I did <em>not</em> freak out at a rest stop on our way home from Durham because I thought my dear husband had gotten out of the van <strong><span style="color:#ffffff;">without putting it in park</span></strong>. I did not yell and nearly jump out of the car only to realize that it was the <strong>Jeep</strong> beside us moving and that we were <em>perfectly safe</em>. I would <em>never </em>do such a thing.<br /><br />I did <em>not </em>begrudge my children one bit for deciding they wanted the<strong> same thing</strong> for lunch that hubby and I did. In fact, sharing food among the five of us is <em>never</em> a problem because I would <em>never</em> be caught with only one can (yes, <strong><span style="color:#ffffff;">can</span></strong>) of tomato soup and only enough cheese to make <span style="color:#ffffff;"><strong>two</strong></span> grilled cheese sandwiches. I'm on top of my stockpile like that.<br /><br />So...what are you proud to admit you <em>didn't</em> do this week?I am the momhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12794548430681344396noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-969428486839314736.post-18102687130244223882009-07-03T17:22:00.001-04:002009-07-03T17:36:59.147-04:00A Week of Mayhem<span style="font-size:100%;">So...is anyone else's week as crazy as mine??? Last Friday we came back from the beach, so the house was a mess for a full <span style="font-weight: bold; font-style: italic;">three days</span>. On Tuesday afternoon I left for Columbia, SC to attend my sister's graduation from basic training. She is now a card-carrying member of the <span style="font-weight: bold; color: rgb(255, 255, 255);">Army National Guard</span>! Thursday I returned home around 3:30 and we were all repacked and on the road again before 5:30. Yeah.<br /><br />Several things were <span style="font-weight: bold;">forgotten</span> in that repacking process, I might add. <span style="font-style: italic;">Important</span> things. Things we should never leave home without. <span style="font-style: italic;">But I digress.</span><br /><br />Tonight we're having a night on the town with some <span style="font-weight: bold; color: rgb(255, 255, 255);">real-live-grown-up friends</span> and then tomorrow, as you may have guessed, we'll be back in the car. Again. <span style="color: rgb(255, 255, 255); font-style: italic;">Oh my.</span><br /><br />I want to post about my sister's graduation and what an incredibly <span style="font-weight: bold;">big deal</span> I found that to be. I want to post about nearly <span style="font-weight: bold;">48 hours</span> spent with my mother. And I want to post something about <span style="font-weight: bold;">God's provision</span> of mercy, love, and comfort. But for the moment, I am still a bit jet-lagged (or <span style="font-style: italic;">car-lagged</span>, as the case may be) and our <span style="font-weight: bold; color: rgb(255, 255, 255);">real-live-grown-up friends</span> will be arriving soon to pick us up for a night of dinner and...well I don't know what for sure but I've heard rumors of <span style="font-style: italic; color: rgb(255, 255, 255);">miniature golf</span>. I predict my husband will win. <span style="color: rgb(255, 255, 255); font-weight: bold;">:D</span><br /></span>I am the momhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12794548430681344396noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-969428486839314736.post-64948967044166596832009-06-30T13:53:00.002-04:002009-06-30T14:07:11.977-04:00You have not 'cause you eat not.The title is a great example of my husband's vast...<strong><em>wisdom</em></strong>. :)<br /><br />My husband is not a pig by any means, but he does enjoy his food...and his snacks...and sometimes the snacks <span style="color:#ffffff;">of those around him</span>. Apparently my children are picking up on this, as Sara Beth (in her most serious 3-year-old voice) warned me today while we were loading the car at <span style="color:#ffffff;">Harris Teeter</span>:<br /><br /><span style="color:#ffffff;"><strong><em>Mama, when we get home we hafta keep the fruit nuggets a srecret so Daddy won't eat 'em all.</em></strong></span><br /><br />Fruit nuggets, by the way, are a bit hard to describe...they look almost like <strong>Chicklets</strong> (remember those???) except they're chewy and made from organic fruit and fruit juice. So not quite <em>fruit snacks</em> but not quite <em>fruit</em> either. The strawberry ones are yummy, if I do say so myself!<br /><br />And for reference, I only ate the <strong><em><span style="color:#ffffff;">one</span></em></strong> my son offered me. :DI am the momhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12794548430681344396noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-969428486839314736.post-78564757733582911682009-06-29T14:14:00.004-04:002009-06-29T14:44:36.034-04:00What Time Is It?It's time once again for...<br /><br /><center><a href="http://www.mycharmingkids.net/"><img src="http://i145.photobucket.com/albums/r208/jennisajoy/BLOG%20DESIGN/ONCEUPONABLOG/NotMeMonday.jpg" /> </a></center><br /><br />I've been a bit out-of-the-loop for the past week or so, but I'm sure there are plenty of things I haven't done lately...<br /><br />I absolutely did <em>not</em> almost <strong>lose my religion</strong> last Friday morning when my precious baby boy slammed his little baby head <em>right</em> into my nose! I also didn't spend the next <strong><span style="color:#ffffff;">ten minutes</span></strong> or so crying in my bed because it hurt <span style="color:#ffffff;">so. very. bad.</span><br /><span style="color:#ffffff;"></span><br />Our whole family did <em>not </em>pull over in the parking lot of an empty building that I'm convinced was located in the absolute <strong><em>middle</em></strong> of nowhere so that my daughter could have her first <strong><span style="color:#ffffff;">outdoor potty experience</span></strong>. And said experience did <em>not</em> involve a <strong>bucket</strong> pulled from the beach bag in the back of our van.<br /><br />While we were spending our mornings lounging on the beach, I did <em>not</em> seriously consider donning the <span style="color:#ffffff;">bikini</span> I wore on my honeymoon <strong>six years</strong> and <strong>three kids</strong> ago. In fact, I most definitely <em>didn't</em> even pack the skimpy little thing because what self-conscious woman with <em><strong>repositioned </strong></em>body parts would ever think of such a thing???<br /><br />Oh, and there is <em>not </em>another <em><strong>urinating-in-an-inappropriate-receptacle</strong></em> story to go along with our vacation...but if there <em>were </em>I would definitely have to keep it to myself to protect the innocent and those involved against their will.<br /><br />And no, that was <em>not</em> a tease. :)<br /><br />For more bloggers in denial, visit <a href="http://www.mycharmingkids.net/">MckMama</a>!I am the momhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12794548430681344396noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-969428486839314736.post-10470144918417130102009-06-24T13:43:00.001-04:002009-06-24T13:47:59.926-04:00Blogging from the roadActually I'm blogging from the water since we're all aboard the Southport ferry!<br /><br />We are all quite tanned (except Chris, who has good reason to fear the sun) and today we visited the aquarium at Ft. Fisher. Sara Beth is mostly loving her little dance camp and Chris is taking me to see Transformers 2 tonight...and yes, I'm pretty excited about that!<br /><br />And now, back to the vacationing!I am the momhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12794548430681344396noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-969428486839314736.post-40024102757104997802009-06-22T13:52:00.001-04:002009-06-24T13:55:28.576-04:00Not Me Monday (via email)I only have one today:<br /><br />I am not spending the week lounging at the beach with the fam. We have not already been sea-splashed and sand-coated for today. And there are no adorable tan lines on my little ones' buns!<br /><br />Not me.<br /><br />For some real admissions, visit <a href="http://www.mycharmingkids.net">www.mycharmingkids.net</a>!I am the momhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12794548430681344396noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-969428486839314736.post-77413036311759164112009-06-18T00:09:00.005-04:002009-06-18T08:52:42.762-04:00Consider the Lord<span style="font-size:85%;"><span style="color:#ffffff;"><strong>Disclaimer:</strong> I originally wrote this as an e-mail to a friend of mine. So, Friend, if you're reading this, I apologize for managing the Department of Redundancy Dept. :D</span></span><br /><br />It's amazing what you "know" but never pay attention to. I guess I should probably say it's amazing the things you breeze over until God draws you to them. Today I read this out of Ephesians and I think I fell in love <em>(again)</em>:<br /><br /><em><span style="color:#ffffff;">"Now to him who is able to do immeasurably more than all we ask or imagine, according to his power that is at work within us, to him be the glory in the church and in Christ Jesus throughout all generations, for ever and ever. Amen!"--Ephesians 3:20-21</span></em><br /><br />Just how often have I thought I knew what was best for my life? And how dumb was that? So often I pray for the <strong>good</strong> thing three feet in front of me when God has <strong>so much more</strong> waiting at the end of the next mile. How stupid I am...and how wondrous the matchless grace of Jesus. In my own little bubble, I can imagine that I am educated, I am smart, I have a handle on this life (<em><span style="color:#ffffff;">Joseph and the Amazing Technicolor Dreamcoat</span></em>, anyone?)--and yet when I look up from all the me of my life, I should <strong>weep</strong> at the enormous love God must have for me to allow me to act the way I do through a single day.<br /><br />Where is my mind each day that I don't consider this? Because I don't. I start my day in hesitation and dread of what will attack me and I finish it regretting the things I watched myself do. And yet in my mind I know that the very <strong><em><span style="color:#ffffff;">SPIRIT OF GOD</span></em></strong> is hovering inside me waiting for me to recognize Him and to move out of the way of His work. In my mind. I know He desires abundance for me, peace within me, and gracious obedience from me...how is it that I fill my days working so hard to negate each of those things? To him be the glory in the church (not the building...but also the building)...<em>how beautiful that statement sounds</em>! How glorious and incredible that would be! How pitiful I am at bringing it. And yet, how marvelous and wonderful and uplifting to know that He is <span style="color:#ffffff;"><em>"able to do immeasurably more than all we ask or imagine"</em></span>; and that <span style="color:#ffffff;"><em>"his power...is at work within us"</em></span>. How incredible it is to have consistent, pervading, all-encompassing hope in every moment this side of eternity because of what awaits us on the other side. AND because of the knowledge that our battle to realize that eternal hope is already decided.<br /><br /><strong><em><span style="color:#ffffff;">I stand amazed in the presence of Jesus the Nazarene, and wonder how He could love me--a sinner, condemmed, unclean. How marvelous! How wonderful! And my song shall ever be how marvelous, how wonderful, is my Savior's love for me!</span></em></strong>I am the momhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12794548430681344396noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-969428486839314736.post-18051684100448606182009-06-15T08:27:00.004-04:002009-06-18T00:36:48.907-04:00Not Me! Monday<div align="left"><center><a href="http://www.mycharmingkids.net/"><img src="http://i145.photobucket.com/albums/r208/jennisajoy/BLOG%20DESIGN/ONCEUPONABLOG/NotMeMonday.jpg" /> </a></center></div><div align="left"></div><p>I think I'm jumping on a pretty large bandwagon here. Thanks to a post my friend Jennifer made last week, I have discovered <a href="http://www.mycharmingkids.net/">this</a> blog, which is written by a pretty amazing, interesting woman who is a source of inspiration for many. Each week, MckMama hosts a blog carnival where her many of her readers make posts about a single theme--it's called <strong><span style="color:#ffffff;"><em>Not Me!</em> Monday</span></strong> and the point is to blog about all the things you did <strong><em>not</em></strong> do over the past week because you would be horribly embarrassed to admit them. Of course, you <em><strong>did</strong></em> do them, but that's the fun of the whole thing. So here are some of the things I absolutely <em>did not</em> do this past week and a few I definitely <em>will not</em> be doing in the coming week.<br /><br />I most certainly did <em>not </em>spend the entire week working on laundry, only to have <span style="color:#ffffff;">clean-but-unfolded </span>clothes laying neatly in stacks on the backs of my living room chairs. And my husband is also <em>not </em>digging for clean undies in the laundry basket.<br /><br />My husband and I did <em>not</em> spend our Sunday evening watching the movie <strong>Happy Feet</strong> after the kids went to bed. And said movie is totally <em>not</em> made for kids <em>nor</em> did we DV-R it just for our children to watch and then end up watching the <span style="color:#ffffff;">whole thing</span> by ourselves with no children present.<br /><br />I have <em>not </em>discovered in the past couple of weeks that I can sleep in my contacts without any adverse effects, thereby stretching my <strong><span style="color:#ffffff;">daily wear</span></strong> contacts into three- or four-day ones. I <em>always</em> do what my optometrist tells me where my eye care is concerned and I would <em>never</em> resort to simply doing what I can get away with just because I would rather not mess with my eye!<br /><br />And finally...<br /><br />My firstborn baby son will absolutely, positively, most definitely <strong><em><span style="color:#ffffff;">NOT </span></em></strong>be turning five this coming Thursday. He is <em>not</em> beyond excited that his birthday party is at the local skating rink, and I am <em>not </em>wholeheartedly considering sending <strong>reminder calls</strong> to his preschool friends to make sure anyone who's in town shows up! He also does <em>no</em>t read better than some third graders I have known, can <em>not</em> completely dress himself or (mostly) brush his own teeth, and he is <em>not</em> adorably cute and sweet in his semi-grown-up ways. <strong><em>My</em></strong> baby son will forever remain the half-bald, chubby-cheeked, totally dependent little toddler he is in my mind.<span style="color:#000000;"> Yes.</span><br /><br />So there you have it. Is there something you <em>didn't</em> do this week that you feel like getting off your chest? Join the fun!</p><p>Oh, and I do <em>not</em> just <strong>love</strong> how the orange <strong><em><span style="color:#ffffff;">Not Me! Monday</span></em></strong> button matches the orange banner in my blog header. I am <em>not</em> OCD like that. Nope. Not at all. :D</p>I am the momhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12794548430681344396noreply@blogger.com7tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-969428486839314736.post-45420671285653467992009-06-13T23:32:00.004-04:002009-06-13T23:35:16.312-04:00What's Missing?Notice something(s) missing from the sidebar? I was playing around with template options and those particular items have disappeared into the <span style="color:#ffffff;"><strong>Twilight Zone</strong></span>. I am using the wrong computer to upload them again...and I'm going to bed, so my small following will just have to do without said items for right now.<br /><br /><br /><br /><span style="color:#ffffff;"><strong><em>Do you actually know what's missing???</em></strong></span>I am the momhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12794548430681344396noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-969428486839314736.post-46216471744547571992009-06-13T21:49:00.005-04:002009-06-13T23:30:33.868-04:00And finally it ends (the vacation, that is)The final day of our trip, we visited <span style="color:#ffffff;">The Biltmore House</span>. Chris had never been, which I just thought was a travesty, and I barely remember going my 8th grade year of elementary school. It was large, and beautiful, and very...opulent. <strong><span style="color:#ffffff;">"They"</span></strong> don't allow you to take pictures inside the house, so we're at a loss there. But, I do have some very nice pictures of some of the beautiful flowers in their expansive gardens. We enjoyed ourselves immensely walking around with our little <em>audio tour headsets</em>. Of course, everyone we saw was also walking around with the dorky-looking things on too, so it was okay. Once it was over and we were exhausted, we headed home. And after we retrieved our younglings from the grandparents, we headed home...<strong><em>for real</em></strong>. :) <div><div><div><div><div> </div><div>Enjoy the flowers (and the postcard-worthy shot I snagged of the House itself)!</div><div><br /><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgTLTLntozL07vd0FAq0KXnwGt_t2t0VhyUd5E7W8JLgzU6LlY_B8xUi-_3kjeAmsB9lqozh4BfB6Qh8uSgh_qzpphLpnVzwUhsUSWB00ouoQMAYd_OlSxQ-vL6UtVI_CsfLrPib-gAeYRJ/s1600-h/102_1947.JPG"><img style="WIDTH: 240px; HEIGHT: 320px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5347001382122772514" border="0" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgTLTLntozL07vd0FAq0KXnwGt_t2t0VhyUd5E7W8JLgzU6LlY_B8xUi-_3kjeAmsB9lqozh4BfB6Qh8uSgh_qzpphLpnVzwUhsUSWB00ouoQMAYd_OlSxQ-vL6UtVI_CsfLrPib-gAeYRJ/s320/102_1947.JPG" /></a><br /><br /></div><div></div><p align="right"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjiIE14onWZ6q7Pm7yuSFZVzMkqK8QlRf3qb18ilX7O5vVSOEd2LLGfZBo78uayjb0ajXibV7WYKqbAs12TgfGmfv-L_TZjW2HDhjC7y7w0uyhdN0kqV-_BMh9XKmiyQ_ZyDkCSCItpuAZx/s1600-h/102_1963.JPG"><img style="WIDTH: 320px; HEIGHT: 240px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5347001400022655330" border="0" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjiIE14onWZ6q7Pm7yuSFZVzMkqK8QlRf3qb18ilX7O5vVSOEd2LLGfZBo78uayjb0ajXibV7WYKqbAs12TgfGmfv-L_TZjW2HDhjC7y7w0uyhdN0kqV-_BMh9XKmiyQ_ZyDkCSCItpuAZx/s320/102_1963.JPG" /></a><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjiIE14onWZ6q7Pm7yuSFZVzMkqK8QlRf3qb18ilX7O5vVSOEd2LLGfZBo78uayjb0ajXibV7WYKqbAs12TgfGmfv-L_TZjW2HDhjC7y7w0uyhdN0kqV-_BMh9XKmiyQ_ZyDkCSCItpuAZx/s1600-h/102_1963.JPG"></a></p><div><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiD0JLON51brcWgh01sNgdHtGrKMDKU36uZRsoo7nYs51Wi0YWTyLeWwYgJ9glxfcbrLbXnLMlWEADm7_Lej7lQhyQIY4f8RFT-fnQWqx8eq13zbuvzPtVxiiXKObyxNm7AqxBT4pvyWCI2/s1600-h/102_1951.JPG"><img style="WIDTH: 240px; HEIGHT: 320px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5347001385151109218" border="0" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiD0JLON51brcWgh01sNgdHtGrKMDKU36uZRsoo7nYs51Wi0YWTyLeWwYgJ9glxfcbrLbXnLMlWEADm7_Lej7lQhyQIY4f8RFT-fnQWqx8eq13zbuvzPtVxiiXKObyxNm7AqxBT4pvyWCI2/s320/102_1951.JPG" /></a><br /></div><p align="right"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEguuXEQPReCRRhFV4OwUvKIZyPLNs9mtDfLcVb6JMmbDsd-PCq1fC7ltHK9IBFIIitIS3jwn0IgMlP8XmNlHB84RXgfiNNYep2vLtkppgmghQuzRhrsBfwzvacngInMkHzC64MDU2s851C2/s1600-h/102_1961.JPG"><img style="WIDTH: 240px; HEIGHT: 320px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5347001390625223618" border="0" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEguuXEQPReCRRhFV4OwUvKIZyPLNs9mtDfLcVb6JMmbDsd-PCq1fC7ltHK9IBFIIitIS3jwn0IgMlP8XmNlHB84RXgfiNNYep2vLtkppgmghQuzRhrsBfwzvacngInMkHzC64MDU2s851C2/s320/102_1961.JPG" /></a></p><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEguuXEQPReCRRhFV4OwUvKIZyPLNs9mtDfLcVb6JMmbDsd-PCq1fC7ltHK9IBFIIitIS3jwn0IgMlP8XmNlHB84RXgfiNNYep2vLtkppgmghQuzRhrsBfwzvacngInMkHzC64MDU2s851C2/s1600-h/102_1961.JPG"></a><p align="center"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgfJFQ0OXGQqgPgCAKkGMI8kt51-bhHa7di_UFr6IYts4no2f_ehBjqSn6AT_VltIONAESAGV-nEmT53sOE0M5R2MkbXltyDGE6A_CBijyMWpQZlkx_vnIpjWFknTf5g17icuLdiKgpNaYF/s1600-h/102_1971.JPG"><img style="WIDTH: 320px; HEIGHT: 240px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5347001938019351538" border="0" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgfJFQ0OXGQqgPgCAKkGMI8kt51-bhHa7di_UFr6IYts4no2f_ehBjqSn6AT_VltIONAESAGV-nEmT53sOE0M5R2MkbXltyDGE6A_CBijyMWpQZlkx_vnIpjWFknTf5g17icuLdiKgpNaYF/s320/102_1971.JPG" /></a></p></div></div></div></div>I am the momhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12794548430681344396noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-969428486839314736.post-53912000854035529962009-06-11T11:15:00.006-04:002009-06-11T11:25:36.129-04:00'Round and 'Round and 'Round We GoMorning in the Dickerson household has been something like this:<br /><br /><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEioaj1W_VO9pTflbo4SmJpviwcp9N4BunjAA9H9Dykz5Ed_wWqhd_gJ5YXextwSDbjK-iPJNxVZDJdMSfgvLosEvUHC8RE8N-gRN-agwwOIbzXdjNl9ZS4GzG4uROg_ufDXWipkQDSBzI9j/s1600-h/102_1982.JPG"><img style="WIDTH: 150px; HEIGHT: 200px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5346089956705689650" border="0" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEioaj1W_VO9pTflbo4SmJpviwcp9N4BunjAA9H9Dykz5Ed_wWqhd_gJ5YXextwSDbjK-iPJNxVZDJdMSfgvLosEvUHC8RE8N-gRN-agwwOIbzXdjNl9ZS4GzG4uROg_ufDXWipkQDSBzI9j/s200/102_1982.JPG" /></a><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEja9DrCO4uXQAeAgEju1YUf2VuR0Ba8TfEwMxJJEJvgHUFSd1grLlqISHUmWt1Abe_F4tBYmvgskkf3rUiN6KBXi7YZKpR4cWc4pvAWEWIH0Ubz6VDiNEhuOLy-7c9yWppZyl3TmhUy3f7V/s1600-h/102_1983.JPG"><img style="WIDTH: 150px; HEIGHT: 200px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5346089958395653714" border="0" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEja9DrCO4uXQAeAgEju1YUf2VuR0Ba8TfEwMxJJEJvgHUFSd1grLlqISHUmWt1Abe_F4tBYmvgskkf3rUiN6KBXi7YZKpR4cWc4pvAWEWIH0Ubz6VDiNEhuOLy-7c9yWppZyl3TmhUy3f7V/s200/102_1983.JPG" /></a><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhHXTVXU3rBHAs8lm10qP8nhVlIKOVxRN7hoHe1C0FFR-BTtwM52ft341hX7MyFlp88e7DEp10NuxJHMeS74IK37NmWhr8yWS-MhsLDrAuIRhQA0S50hrCX22-tYdBENWm4uQjqPHHJRlFc/s1600-h/102_1984.JPG"><img style="WIDTH: 150px; HEIGHT: 200px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5346089963469061186" border="0" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhHXTVXU3rBHAs8lm10qP8nhVlIKOVxRN7hoHe1C0FFR-BTtwM52ft341hX7MyFlp88e7DEp10NuxJHMeS74IK37NmWhr8yWS-MhsLDrAuIRhQA0S50hrCX22-tYdBENWm4uQjqPHHJRlFc/s200/102_1984.JPG" /></a><br /><br /><br />Wash, rinse, repeat. They're making me <strong>dizzy</strong>!<br /><br />On a different note, Adam is completely dressed in things I <strong><span style="color:#ffffff;">very vividly</span></strong> remember Luke wearing, which is very cute but it is also sad to think that A-man is now the size Luke was when we thought he was <strong><em>so</em></strong> big. He loves the shirt, too: <strong><span style="color:#ffffff;">"Trwain. Choo-choo. Mm-hmm."</span></strong>I am the momhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12794548430681344396noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-969428486839314736.post-89612812249824635142009-06-09T17:06:00.011-04:002009-06-09T23:20:42.393-04:00The Trip, day 2So, after the aforementioned coffee and bagel we drove to Marshall, NC.<br /><br />Never heard of it? <span style="color:#ffffff;">Me either. </span>But they do have awesome recreational activities there:<br /><br /><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiWCiu45NSZqWwt2nusxv1Kh0JrjrNVs0Iqr1jJXpkKGvKaIZPQW-PYFnjbS8eeWEau3Y3O8JV-4W6_RfgtIUnHWjnVYJRzN8-1lvHhPwK3KJFaPu_S7LvhM1kFoBw3Ju9raW0tq5IAGakn/s1600-h/_DSC2976.JPG"><img style="WIDTH: 320px; HEIGHT: 213px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5345438756329992178" border="0" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiWCiu45NSZqWwt2nusxv1Kh0JrjrNVs0Iqr1jJXpkKGvKaIZPQW-PYFnjbS8eeWEau3Y3O8JV-4W6_RfgtIUnHWjnVYJRzN8-1lvHhPwK3KJFaPu_S7LvhM1kFoBw3Ju9raW0tq5IAGakn/s320/_DSC2976.JPG" /></a><br /><br />I know you can't see it...but that's me. In the front of a raft. In the middle of a class IV rapid on the French Broad River. <strong>Woo hoo!</strong> I'm pretty sure this was taken just before I thought I was going to fall out of the raft and grabbed the rope on the side <em>for dear life</em>.<br /><br />I'd never been whitewater rafting before but Chris, being the <em>manly ex-youth minister</em> he is, has been several times. So I thought this would be something neat to do together--and it was! I had lots of fun (so did he, I think) and no one got sent overboard, so it turned out really well. But don't you know that we chose to travel to the mountains on the two <span style="color:#ffffff;">chilliest</span> days of the past several weeks??? The day before we got there, <span style="color:#ffffff;">80 degrees</span>. The day we left, <span style="color:#ffffff;">80 degrees</span>. This day, when we were soaking wet and there was a wind strong enough to make my ears hurt and it was raining not <strong><em>on</em></strong> us but <strong><em><span style="color:#ffffff;">at</span></em></strong> us...<br /><br />...this day was about <span style="color:#ffffff;">65</span>. Go figure. Still fun, though!<br /><br />After all that excitement, there was a good bit of this:<br /><br /><br /><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgRZQEQrod-67LbC2xhqKn6sPo2rpvRCwlxBxb2BArOBmN_oODLmQuZUPDhAn5tQFsGtk_PPeDvdofJGG5kxpkA_-6oK0q5E_c77LGkG-p1Wi4sSIkvogDYBkqBbbGsdxGdI7IQso8Ms3sd/s1600-h/Nap.jpg"><img style="WIDTH: 111px; HEIGHT: 170px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5345527083172284594" border="0" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgRZQEQrod-67LbC2xhqKn6sPo2rpvRCwlxBxb2BArOBmN_oODLmQuZUPDhAn5tQFsGtk_PPeDvdofJGG5kxpkA_-6oK0q5E_c77LGkG-p1Wi4sSIkvogDYBkqBbbGsdxGdI7IQso8Ms3sd/s320/Nap.jpg" /></a><br /><span style="font-size:78%;color:#ffffff;">*not my actual husband*<br /></span><br /><br />Once we'd had enough of that we headed for dinner in what my uncle called "South Asheville". We had reservations at a restaurant called Frankie Bones, and we had them there for a very specific reason--their Early Dining menu. My husband ate prime rib, some really good potatoes, and a Caesar salad. I had a wonderful chicken/vegetable/pasta dish that was too large for me to finish and a salad as well. Our drinks (sweet tea--is there anything else to drink with dinner?) were even included. The cost?<br /><br /><span style="color:#ffffff;">His dinner: $14.99</span><br /><span style="color:#ffffff;">My dinner: $13.99</span><br /><br />This was an <strong>AWESOME</strong> find! No, I don't have a picture of our food. Sorry to disappoint. :)<br /><br />The day did not end with dinner...our "dessert stomachs" were still very empty. And my uncles certainly had the cure for that! We met at their house, which has an AMAZING view, and they drove us to downtown Asheville. It reminded me a lot of Chapel Hill--you know, <strong><span style="color:#ffffff;">5,000 </span></strong>people and <strong><span style="color:#ffffff;">200</span></strong> parking spots. Our ultimate destination was a place called the <span style="color:#ffffff;">Chocolate Lounge</span>. Oh yeah. Before we got there, though, we stopped at a different chocolatier where each of us had a mouth-watering truffle. Skip ahead about a block and a half and we all had ice cream too. Notice a pattern? And we still haven't made it to the <span style="color:#ffffff;">Chocolate Lounge</span>! We stopped to see the Drum Circle, a Friday night occurrence in Asheville. It was...very interesting. There was definitely a time in my life (when I was much younger, much less inhibited, and much more naive about people's perceptions) when I would have really gotten into the whole scene. But not now. And not in a <strong><span style="color:#ffffff;">white linen skirt</span></strong>. I do have a picture of the crowd, the capturing of which made me look even <em><strong>more</strong></em> like a tourist:<br /><br /><br /><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj9WTYffJwxaSWo_xYQ4S_Oet4wcyX5AygO35k0ngsUqiyJyQ3EsXbX1P0_IBSmpmcQ8KELOkPdduu2FnvohzZH02fSEqF2WbdDBXpyE7rH5tnbSYbgNzJlGyqPzB-0mvR8BaAW5m0eMH_d/s1600-h/102_1928.JPG"><img style="WIDTH: 320px; HEIGHT: 240px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5345525627558989986" border="0" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj9WTYffJwxaSWo_xYQ4S_Oet4wcyX5AygO35k0ngsUqiyJyQ3EsXbX1P0_IBSmpmcQ8KELOkPdduu2FnvohzZH02fSEqF2WbdDBXpyE7rH5tnbSYbgNzJlGyqPzB-0mvR8BaAW5m0eMH_d/s320/102_1928.JPG" /></a><br /><br /><br />And then...the icing on the cake. We arrived at the <span style="color:#ffffff;">Chocolate Lounge</span>, where there lay a plethora of adorable little things that looked something like this:<br /><br /><br /><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjyiDyp-euftREPYMIattSbspjN7_b3FiY3cw-owYgcdWLmVHUHNa-hh4BAqey2SH6iSJbSFZbSltyPKUUG9S467MtmaueDiv-0wHKyUo-hELhUdcdnxzk0L-W42kCP01a50CAWsszJwMeY/s1600-h/chocolate_truffle_white_jasmine.jpg"><img style="WIDTH: 200px; HEIGHT: 200px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5345527400560904290" border="0" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjyiDyp-euftREPYMIattSbspjN7_b3FiY3cw-owYgcdWLmVHUHNa-hh4BAqey2SH6iSJbSFZbSltyPKUUG9S467MtmaueDiv-0wHKyUo-hELhUdcdnxzk0L-W42kCP01a50CAWsszJwMeY/s200/chocolate_truffle_white_jasmine.jpg" /></a><br /><br /><br />As full as I was from dinner (and truffles and lemon sorbet...) I managed to scarf another truffle, about half of a luscious brownie topped with cinnamon and cayenne pepper (very interesting taste--hurt so good!), half of one of my uncle's truffles, and several bites of a lavender creme brulee. Oh, and some decaf coffee that I purposefully doctored to consist <em>more </em>of milk and sugar than coffee. Nearly too stuffed to talk, we headed back to my uncles' house and relaxed (as much as possible with their very large dogs) on the couch watching TV. Then we finally headed back to the Grove Park, collected our things for check-out the next morning, and collapsed into bed. <em><span style="color:#ffffff;">Ahhh...</span></em><br /><br />Still more to come about the last day, but not nearly as much activity as this one!!!I am the momhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12794548430681344396noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-969428486839314736.post-3944443271305977392009-06-09T10:43:00.003-04:002009-06-09T10:46:06.871-04:00I know, I knowI am fully aware that there is another day and a half left to post about from my little trip with spub...but my head is in a <strong><span style="color:#ffffff;">small vice grip</span></strong> right now and there will be no wrestling with photo placement or post layout at this time. I have really cool pictures of what we did on Friday, though, and they will be posted!<br /><br />...as soon as my head <em><strong>doesn't</strong></em> feel like it's imploding upon itself.I am the momhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12794548430681344396noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-969428486839314736.post-4884978150415232552009-06-06T22:02:00.024-04:002009-06-07T23:14:28.833-04:00Back to our regularly-scheduled program...We've officially been home for 24 hours now, and life seems very much...<span style="color:#ffffff;">normal</span>. Except that I have a little leap in my heart thinking about our time spent alone together. So as promised here are some of the details of our little getaway (complete with illustrations)! We spent our time away in <strong><span style="color:#ffffff;">Asheville</span></strong>, which was extremely relaxing and beautiful despite the fact that I filled up a lot of our trip with various activities! I'll start with just Thursday, because really a blog post only needs to be so long.<br /><div><div><div><div></div><br /><div>First off, we spent lots of time here:</div><div></div><br /><div><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiG8E7hmAxtUJH91gonf6iL3wWGSCJ0li4eo9JtgvQLH-ZHY-H4qoo9d5Cv9vzm2UVtb12PUPrT1tNDyEg_xVqFbOmkk0Sm1ZZNRN67IbnS1SpVfswr3T1s6wVd-3qlzRxvXGorR7R00UAe/s1600-h/Car+pic.jpg"><img style="WIDTH: 200px; HEIGHT: 126px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5344752246819917122" border="0" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiG8E7hmAxtUJH91gonf6iL3wWGSCJ0li4eo9JtgvQLH-ZHY-H4qoo9d5Cv9vzm2UVtb12PUPrT1tNDyEg_xVqFbOmkk0Sm1ZZNRN67IbnS1SpVfswr3T1s6wVd-3qlzRxvXGorR7R00UAe/s200/Car+pic.jpg" /></a><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiG8E7hmAxtUJH91gonf6iL3wWGSCJ0li4eo9JtgvQLH-ZHY-H4qoo9d5Cv9vzm2UVtb12PUPrT1tNDyEg_xVqFbOmkk0Sm1ZZNRN67IbnS1SpVfswr3T1s6wVd-3qlzRxvXGorR7R00UAe/s1600-h/Car+pic.jpg"></a></div><div></div><br /><div>Once we got near Hickory, I let Chris guess what we were doing. Apparently I was not quite as secretive as I thought because he was able to guess not only where we were going (because he just knew that's where the exit I gave him was and what was about that distance from Durham), but also the two main activities I had planned. <em>Oh well.</em> He could not guess where we would be staying, though:</div><br /><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhHMXRZzcTpPSOrSzPeJ2Nh6tc5WHT4EdmcCWilk7j29oSCbXVP41J_sMJTpJjtcRxjto6tFoVPUqoWxTCsV2cvmDMUB5O8e0VHiYpQHfrTbYy5qAO6Vzp2ha62JhMY3GxNZl4FuhAy_S6o/s1600-h/Grove+Park+pic.jpg"><img style="WIDTH: 400px; HEIGHT: 171px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5344775388574300402" border="0" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhHMXRZzcTpPSOrSzPeJ2Nh6tc5WHT4EdmcCWilk7j29oSCbXVP41J_sMJTpJjtcRxjto6tFoVPUqoWxTCsV2cvmDMUB5O8e0VHiYpQHfrTbYy5qAO6Vzp2ha62JhMY3GxNZl4FuhAy_S6o/s400/Grove+Park+pic.jpg" /></a><br /><br /><br /><div></div>That's a view of the <strong><em>Gove Park Inn</em></strong> looking up from the spa area. This place is...incredible. There's gorgeous stonework everywhere, beautiful views, and more neat places inside the Inn itself than we could even find! Awesome...relaxing...beautiful. Kudos to my uncle for helping us get the best deal possible on staying at this wonderful place and for buying us the most amazing dinner I've ever eaten:</div></div><div></div><div></div><div><br /><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhARDhvxEhmoDlsuoyKZSwTS9iM28ZtVexYPqg1wPWCC-llAmgPEmk5JnMzSJ9HaxK5nd7JMboBsK3wOBaI8TdNwIzP9zsptlY9ccCtkkZ-9g_e2wbbgSbZr_WV-szsCmhj0ev8mEct_U66/s1600-h/Dinner+pic.jpg"><img style="WIDTH: 200px; HEIGHT: 129px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5344781957186599698" border="0" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhARDhvxEhmoDlsuoyKZSwTS9iM28ZtVexYPqg1wPWCC-llAmgPEmk5JnMzSJ9HaxK5nd7JMboBsK3wOBaI8TdNwIzP9zsptlY9ccCtkkZ-9g_e2wbbgSbZr_WV-szsCmhj0ev8mEct_U66/s200/Dinner+pic.jpg" /></a></div><div><div></div><div><br />Now we didn't actually eat what was in this picture, but it was definitely just as nice and there's not enough room on this entire page to show you <span style="color:#ffffff;"><em>everything</em></span> we ate. It took us three hours to eat our complete four-course dinner, which was a good speed because I doubt I would have been able to eat half of it at a normal pace. My husband picked <strong>antelope</strong> as his main course dish...he's such a guy! We ate so much at dinner I was seriously debating breakfast the next morning, but we did gladly accept hot coffee and a nicely-toasted bagel from my other uncle before heading off for a morning of <strong><em><span style="color:#ffffff;">high adventure</span></em></strong>! Stay tuned...</div></div></div>I am the momhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12794548430681344396noreply@blogger.com0