tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-27844645570538733642024-03-14T04:10:43.732-06:00There are Aliens in my Washing MachineChrissyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10252112847005002765noreply@blogger.comBlogger887125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2784464557053873364.post-60199651059611325152014-01-22T09:49:00.001-07:002014-01-22T09:49:53.431-07:00Mean Mom<span style="font-family: '.Helvetica NeueUI'; -webkit-tap-highlight-color: rgba(26, 26, 26, 0.296875); -webkit-composition-fill-color: rgba(175, 192, 227, 0.230469); -webkit-composition-frame-color: rgba(77, 128, 180, 0.230469); ">I had to get this little gem of a conversation down in black and white, so I can refer my daughter to it one day when she has her own children...</span><div><span style="font-family: '.Helvetica NeueUI'; -webkit-tap-highlight-color: rgba(26, 26, 26, 0.296875); -webkit-composition-fill-color: rgba(175, 192, 227, 0.230469); -webkit-composition-frame-color: rgba(77, 128, 180, 0.230469); "><br></span></div><div><span style="font-family: '.Helvetica NeueUI'; -webkit-tap-highlight-color: rgba(26, 26, 26, 0.296875); -webkit-composition-fill-color: rgba(175, 192, 227, 0.230469); -webkit-composition-frame-color: rgba(77, 128, 180, 0.230469); ">We were waiting in line to drop her off at preschool.</span></div><div><span style="font-family: '.Helvetica NeueUI'; -webkit-tap-highlight-color: rgba(26, 26, 26, 0.296875); -webkit-composition-fill-color: rgba(175, 192, 227, 0.230469); -webkit-composition-frame-color: rgba(77, 128, 180, 0.230469); "><br></span></div><div><span style="font-family: '.Helvetica NeueUI'; -webkit-tap-highlight-color: rgba(26, 26, 26, 0.296875); -webkit-composition-fill-color: rgba(175, 192, 227, 0.230469); -webkit-composition-frame-color: rgba(77, 128, 180, 0.230469); ">Lila: Mom? Can I climb out through the way back?</span></div><div><span style="font-family: '.Helvetica NeueUI'; -webkit-tap-highlight-color: rgba(26, 26, 26, 0.296875); -webkit-composition-fill-color: rgba(175, 192, 227, 0.230469); -webkit-composition-frame-color: rgba(77, 128, 180, 0.230469); "><br></span></div><div><span style="font-family: '.Helvetica NeueUI'; -webkit-tap-highlight-color: rgba(26, 26, 26, 0.296875); -webkit-composition-fill-color: rgba(175, 192, 227, 0.230469); -webkit-composition-frame-color: rgba(77, 128, 180, 0.230469); ">Me: Nope.</span></div><div><span style="font-family: '.Helvetica NeueUI'; -webkit-tap-highlight-color: rgba(26, 26, 26, 0.296875); -webkit-composition-fill-color: rgba(175, 192, 227, 0.230469); -webkit-composition-frame-color: rgba(77, 128, 180, 0.230469); "><br></span></div><div><span style="font-family: '.Helvetica NeueUI'; -webkit-tap-highlight-color: rgba(26, 26, 26, 0.296875); -webkit-composition-fill-color: rgba(175, 192, 227, 0.230469); -webkit-composition-frame-color: rgba(77, 128, 180, 0.230469); ">Lila: Awww, come on Mom. Some of the other kids' moms let them climb out the way back.</span></div><div><span style="font-family: '.Helvetica NeueUI'; -webkit-tap-highlight-color: rgba(26, 26, 26, 0.296875); -webkit-composition-fill-color: rgba(175, 192, 227, 0.230469); -webkit-composition-frame-color: rgba(77, 128, 180, 0.230469); "><br></span></div><div><span style="font-family: '.Helvetica NeueUI'; -webkit-tap-highlight-color: rgba(26, 26, 26, 0.296875); -webkit-composition-fill-color: rgba(175, 192, 227, 0.230469); -webkit-composition-frame-color: rgba(77, 128, 180, 0.230469); ">Me: Well, I guess other kids have nicer moms than you do.</span></div><div><span style="font-family: '.Helvetica NeueUI'; -webkit-tap-highlight-color: rgba(26, 26, 26, 0.296875); -webkit-composition-fill-color: rgba(175, 192, 227, 0.230469); -webkit-composition-frame-color: rgba(77, 128, 180, 0.230469); "><br></span></div><div><span style="font-family: '.Helvetica NeueUI'; -webkit-tap-highlight-color: rgba(26, 26, 26, 0.296875); -webkit-composition-fill-color: rgba(175, 192, 227, 0.230469); -webkit-composition-frame-color: rgba(77, 128, 180, 0.230469); ">Lila: (very disgruntled) Yeah. And that's what I'm going to be when I grow up!</span></div><div><span style="font-family: '.Helvetica NeueUI'; -webkit-tap-highlight-color: rgba(26, 26, 26, 0.296875); -webkit-composition-fill-color: rgba(175, 192, 227, 0.230469); -webkit-composition-frame-color: rgba(77, 128, 180, 0.230469); "><br></span></div><div><span style="font-family: '.Helvetica NeueUI'; -webkit-tap-highlight-color: rgba(26, 26, 26, 0.296875); -webkit-composition-fill-color: rgba(175, 192, 227, 0.230469); -webkit-composition-frame-color: rgba(77, 128, 180, 0.230469); ">Me: What?</span></div><div><span style="font-family: '.Helvetica NeueUI'; -webkit-tap-highlight-color: rgba(26, 26, 26, 0.296875); -webkit-composition-fill-color: rgba(175, 192, 227, 0.230469); -webkit-composition-frame-color: rgba(77, 128, 180, 0.230469); "><br></span></div><div><span style="font-family: '.Helvetica NeueUI'; -webkit-tap-highlight-color: rgba(26, 26, 26, 0.296875); -webkit-composition-fill-color: rgba(175, 192, 227, 0.230469); -webkit-composition-frame-color: rgba(77, 128, 180, 0.230469); ">Lila: A nicer mom... I'm going to say "Yes!" to everything my kids ask to do!</span></div><div><span style="font-family: '.Helvetica NeueUI'; -webkit-tap-highlight-color: rgba(26, 26, 26, 0.296875); -webkit-composition-fill-color: rgba(175, 192, 227, 0.230469); -webkit-composition-frame-color: rgba(77, 128, 180, 0.230469); "><br></span></div><div><span style="font-family: '.Helvetica NeueUI'; -webkit-tap-highlight-color: rgba(26, 26, 26, 0.296875); -webkit-composition-fill-color: rgba(175, 192, 227, 0.230469); -webkit-composition-frame-color: rgba(77, 128, 180, 0.230469); ">Me: Yeah, good luck with that.</span></div><div><span style="font-family: '.Helvetica NeueUI'; -webkit-tap-highlight-color: rgba(26, 26, 26, 0.296875); -webkit-composition-fill-color: rgba(175, 192, 227, 0.230469); -webkit-composition-frame-color: rgba(77, 128, 180, 0.230469); "><br></span></div><div><span style="font-family: '.Helvetica NeueUI'; -webkit-tap-highlight-color: rgba(26, 26, 26, 0.296875); -webkit-composition-fill-color: rgba(175, 192, 227, 0.230469); -webkit-composition-frame-color: rgba(77, 128, 180, 0.230469); ">It's always a good start to the day when your parenting is critiqued by the five year old...</span></div>Chrissyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10252112847005002765noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2784464557053873364.post-27634364406408819422013-11-15T11:05:00.001-07:002013-11-15T11:05:19.029-07:00I'm choosing to call it a "Heavenly Kick In The Pants"...It's been almost 4 months since my last post.<div><br></div><div>Why did I stop? </div><div><br></div><div>Honestly, I was bored of myself I think. Bored with documenting the mundane day to day life I lead.<div><br></div><div>Why start again today?</div><div><br></div><div>I found my two of my Mom's journals while I was cleaning at my Dad's. One starts in 1977 when she was a newly wed and stopped shortly after my brother was born. The other starts two weeks after she was diagnosed with cancer in 2005. Both have huge gaps where she'd go months between writing (maybe it's genetic?) but I sat there on the floor devouring her words, seeing her handwriting, and crying because I miss her. </div><div><br></div><div>Some of it is mundane day to day things about her work and her garden. Some of it is painful, about her illness and the medical treatments. Some of it is funny, how Grandma told her she looked like a bald alien when she lost her hair. Some of it is profoundly moving, talking about her faith and her fears of being sick. </div><div><br></div><div>When I finished reading I wished like anything that there was more (and I know this sounds incredibly egocentric) especially more about how she felt and thought about me. About how she thought I was turning out, what she thought of my life choices, what she worried about because of me or for me. I guess we never truly grow out of wanting our mother's attention. :)</div><div><br></div><div>I often wonder at how seemingly insignificant choices, like the one to dust off and straighten that particular shelf on this particular day, can have such amazingly profound effects. Did I get a gentle nudge from my mom, when all the "You need to start blogging again" from family and friends wasn't working? I don't know, but I'd like to think so.</div><div><br></div><div>I realize after reading her journals that when I'm gone I want my children to have my words to read. I want them to know how I felt/feel about them. I want them to see their struggles and triumphs through my eyes. I see that the mundane day to day stuff can include beautiful lessons, in all the boring bits about her work and the painful parts about the medical stuff there is a thread woven through it about how my dad was always by her side, helping her and being her strength to lean on. That they had the deep kind of love that only comes through years of growing together and serving each other. How grateful I am for their example in my life.</div><div><br></div><div>So... message received Mom. Time to do better. Even if I find my life boring now one day this record with be a treasure<span style="font-size: 15px; line-height: 19px; white-space: nowrap; -webkit-tap-highlight-color: rgba(26, 26, 26, 0.292969); -webkit-composition-fill-color: rgba(175, 192, 227, 0.230469); -webkit-composition-frame-color: rgba(77, 128, 180, 0.230469);"> for </span>my children. </div><div><br></div><div><br></div><div><br></div></div>Chrissyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10252112847005002765noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2784464557053873364.post-87071087063174420312013-07-23T23:53:00.001-06:002013-07-23T23:53:31.067-06:00So.... That happened."That" being the reason I haven't blogged in over two months. <div><br></div><div>Only, I'm not entirely sure what "that" was. </div><div><br></div><div>Only that it happened. </div><div><br></div><div>I had every intention of posting about Brian's 2nd marathon the next day, but we had a minor fender bender accident on our way out of Pocatello and I think it rattled me more that I wanted to admit at the time. I've never been comfortable being the passenger (Serious back seat driver control issues, just ask my husband, or pretty much anyone I've ever ridden in a car with...) and ever since then it's been much worse. So I didn't want to blog about the day, and somehow before I knew it I was completely out of the habit. :(</div><div><br></div><div>But Caitlin is sending me not so veiled "you should blog" guilt trips on Facebook... in German, no less. So I guess it's time to saddle back up and try to do better. </div><div><br></div><div>We've had a busy couple of months, including, but not limited to, the end of the school year, a wedding, a funeral, and a birth, out of town family visiting, our summer schedule of swimming, movies, library, picnicking, and crafting, holiday celebrations, and just generally trying not to melt in this crazy long heat wave. And now I've got about eight days to figure out what I'm doing for Evie's birthday. I know it's in eight days, not only because I was there when she was born and remember the date very well, but also because she has been counting down since July 1st, which has been awesome. </div><div><br></div><div>There you have it. The last two months in a nut shell and an update for Caitlin. </div>Chrissyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10252112847005002765noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2784464557053873364.post-45830985132024003992013-05-17T19:06:00.001-06:002013-05-17T19:06:17.640-06:00Hello from Blackfoot...<div>We are in Idaho for the weekend because Brian is doing another marathon tomorrow. </div><div><br></div><div><span style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; background-color: rgba(255, 255, 255, 0);">After driving all afternoon we let the kids wear themselves out at a playground, while Brian attended a dinner.</span></div><div><span style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; background-color: rgba(255, 255, 255, 0);"><br></span></div><div><span style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; background-color: rgba(255, 255, 255, 0);"><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjrt6tM-izzgYx7KH3A9_dISmBqv3qprZdEtFcJZcbk1VVF6iIvY5Vcggr5istxppj1Ug8Q8YNwIuoxXzNdSnRupcr6HnXbDL79TkSh8IvkxoNdRZxMszfW8WCIhSd33W7PsSd82vZnjMQ/s640/blogger-image-1466522502.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjrt6tM-izzgYx7KH3A9_dISmBqv3qprZdEtFcJZcbk1VVF6iIvY5Vcggr5istxppj1Ug8Q8YNwIuoxXzNdSnRupcr6HnXbDL79TkSh8IvkxoNdRZxMszfW8WCIhSd33W7PsSd82vZnjMQ/s640/blogger-image-1466522502.jpg"></a></div><br></span></div><div>What is it about human nature that makes us want to go up the down slide?</div><div><br><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhVdixDRFdDgx97q-GfrKzzWumPJy0HUs4-vU_Bt9-Cuo5wKnZPAyrLzp2YU7jgkqcTabvLB9ZXG4W82AN1WNISrNo2v21ZsGXdjV0a3b04xryxW0CZjX2cA4CHc6OBmsI4X7Zt1ZJjsAw/s640/blogger-image-400090011.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhVdixDRFdDgx97q-GfrKzzWumPJy0HUs4-vU_Bt9-Cuo5wKnZPAyrLzp2YU7jgkqcTabvLB9ZXG4W82AN1WNISrNo2v21ZsGXdjV0a3b04xryxW0CZjX2cA4CHc6OBmsI4X7Zt1ZJjsAw/s640/blogger-image-400090011.jpg"></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><br></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhVdixDRFdDgx97q-GfrKzzWumPJy0HUs4-vU_Bt9-Cuo5wKnZPAyrLzp2YU7jgkqcTabvLB9ZXG4W82AN1WNISrNo2v21ZsGXdjV0a3b04xryxW0CZjX2cA4CHc6OBmsI4X7Zt1ZJjsAw/s640/blogger-image-400090011.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"></a><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjtwAPY_gNlorEFbiIlPKR_2I-s7S285WceM8QN9p9GWYdfhmecYpxQm_5Qhc_PAn7hbWfoZs_zrCk-3kOxFuuh5W1I5oVePifUfPT74dG0SYo1haGxJLrJKhaF3wl93k7ERbTIXi10kuk/s640/blogger-image-1570771182.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjtwAPY_gNlorEFbiIlPKR_2I-s7S285WceM8QN9p9GWYdfhmecYpxQm_5Qhc_PAn7hbWfoZs_zrCk-3kOxFuuh5W1I5oVePifUfPT74dG0SYo1haGxJLrJKhaF3wl93k7ERbTIXi10kuk/s640/blogger-image-1570771182.jpg"></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><br><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjtwAPY_gNlorEFbiIlPKR_2I-s7S285WceM8QN9p9GWYdfhmecYpxQm_5Qhc_PAn7hbWfoZs_zrCk-3kOxFuuh5W1I5oVePifUfPT74dG0SYo1haGxJLrJKhaF3wl93k7ERbTIXi10kuk/s640/blogger-image-1570771182.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"></a><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi_2qMGOmMuP1jiE8CgQ7ddGvVe8QflFfFyacA2pH0hYSrLdNQepok3NWsQfNkfsETkf9-WjYw4FEyW3zoKaVs_VnRrtruL5hA6TQHXKNJol0aGkHueGW5mdygUD8ZkaJJR_R0FqC4rfNs/s640/blogger-image-677351212.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi_2qMGOmMuP1jiE8CgQ7ddGvVe8QflFfFyacA2pH0hYSrLdNQepok3NWsQfNkfsETkf9-WjYw4FEyW3zoKaVs_VnRrtruL5hA6TQHXKNJol0aGkHueGW5mdygUD8ZkaJJR_R0FqC4rfNs/s640/blogger-image-677351212.jpg"></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><br></div></div></div></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;">Silly girls...</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><br></div>Chrissyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10252112847005002765noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2784464557053873364.post-13315750639876386752013-05-15T22:07:00.001-06:002013-05-15T22:07:29.985-06:00A growing moment...Lately my girls have been going through a phase where they have refused to be downstairs by themselves. It's been very frustrating. That is where all their toys and clothes and belongings are. I don't want my upstairs cluttered with all their stuff, mostly because it makes it very hard for their daddy to get around. <div><br></div><div>Today I put my foot down and told Lila to play downstairs. I turned on a movie for her and showed her how to push play. (My children are a case study in how gender determines technological capabilities, Jake at age three could run our entire entertainment system by himself and even reprogrammed the tv into Spanish which meant we had to have my dad come over to fix it since neither of us speak Spanish. My girls, ages four and six, still can't turn on the television by themselves... Go figure.) She did really great for about a half hour, but then came upstairs crying and in a panic because she saw a spider.</div><div><br></div><div>If you've read this blog for any length of time you might already know that I also hate spiders. So my first instinct was to rush to her rescue. But then I had a brilliant parenting moment, and I fully credit that I probably had an angel whispering in my ear. I held her hands until she stopped crying, and then I explained how sometimes it's a very good thing for us to face our fears. I told her that she was so much bigger than a spider that she could kill it easily. I told her that she was a brave, strong girl, and that it was important that she learn not to let scary things stop her from doing what she wants to do. </div><div><br></div><div>She took a deep breath, then said, "Okay mommy. I am going to put on my shoes and go downstairs and stomp on that spider and squish him all up! Because I am bigger and braver than him... right?"</div><div><br></div><div>"Right! But don't forget a tissue so that you can flush him down the toilet after you squash him."</div><div><br></div><div>"Okay. Actually, I'd better get two tissues. One to blow my nose, and one to get the spider."</div><div><br></div><div>"Good plan."</div><div><br></div><div>She came out of the bathroom with a tissue and as she started through the kitchen I heard her whispering to herself, "You can do this Lila. You are a big, brave, strong girl. You can do this..."</div><div><br></div><div>And she DID! One minute later she triumphantly carried the spider into the bathroom and gleefully watched him swirl down the bowl. </div><div><br></div><div>She is a big, brave, strong girl, and I couldn't be prouder of her. I foresee easier days ahead getting her to keep the toys downstairs... now if I could only have another brilliant flash on how to get them to keep it clean!</div><div><div><br></div></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgRdA1XbakTh6_wwqTGmQXxsPxNQVWzue39L9ZRLc19TR3d7IPQSdSU9qZcqdS_DYwXOgxZvSj9mSEzmB9Gb74dhoo7cvyV1vSrnc-hDR8OTE1q0PEIGrseIyqWkKw7VbNRGAgjC_Mwzew/s640/blogger-image--1147542098.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgRdA1XbakTh6_wwqTGmQXxsPxNQVWzue39L9ZRLc19TR3d7IPQSdSU9qZcqdS_DYwXOgxZvSj9mSEzmB9Gb74dhoo7cvyV1vSrnc-hDR8OTE1q0PEIGrseIyqWkKw7VbNRGAgjC_Mwzew/s640/blogger-image--1147542098.jpg"></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><br></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"> Lila Faith- Spider Slayer!</div>Chrissyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10252112847005002765noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2784464557053873364.post-3242529582719344142013-05-14T22:29:00.001-06:002013-05-14T22:29:06.012-06:00Crying in public...I know this might come as a shock to many of you, but I cry... a lot. Okay, maybe that's only a shock if you don't know me (or another member of my family) at all. I cry when I am happy, or sad, or hurt, or angry, or laughing (the normal or hysterical kind), pretty much all strong emotions are expressed through tears with me. This can be a strength in that I'm usually quite attuned to my emotions which helps me be a fairly balanced individual. It can also be a weakness when dealing with strangers as most people equate crying with something being wrong.<div><br></div><div>Tonight's SCI Forum had a breakout session just for the caregivers and was led by a social worker. She started us off by asking what were some challenges we face as caregivers and how we cope with the stress of those challenges. (Stinging behind my eyes, lump building in my throat.) I shared how hard and just physically exhausting it was at times being essentially a single parent and not being able to divide the day to day care of a home and family equally. </div><div><br></div><div>We talked about asking for help. How it can be so hard to ask for help, especially when we are so culturally programmed to give service rather than receive. She asked for a show of hands of who had asked for help, and only two of us out of a group of ten or so raised our hands. I choked up as I talked a little bit about our family on both sides and what amazing support we've received from our ward, our neighborhood, and our community. I feel so much gratitude I can't think about it without tears.</div><div><br></div><div>We talked about ways to take care of ourselves as caretakers. She shared the analogy of being on a plane and the oxygen masks drop down. You have to put your own mask on first, and then help others. I was going to tell how my knitting group is a huge part of helping me recharge and renew myself as a caregiver, but the gentleman behind me beat me to the punch by talking about how he kills zombies... (I was worries knitting might seem kind of lame in comparison.) But I want to send a big shout out to my Twisted Stitchers (assuming that's the name we vote in next week), you guys really help keep me sane and I love you!</div><div><br></div><div>The social worker had us take a quiz to gauge our stress levels and I was pleasantly surprised. I scored 2 out of 20, which means I am coping very well right now. But then I started thinking about how I would have answered six or twelve months ago, and I got all teary because I'm just so grateful that I can see what huge progress we've made in the last year! </div><div><br></div><div>She ended by giving us a list of resources and caregiver support groups, and urging us strongly to seek out professional counseling if we felt pushed too close to our breaking point. I'm not saying she meant that solely for me, but she was making pretty direct eye contact with a worried expression in my direction.</div><div>She also expressed some very kind words on the strength of character it takes to be a caregiver, and that was it for me. Sympathy does me in every time.</div><div><br></div><div>I left with a handful of papers, a blister on the inside of my cheek from biting it, and a wicked headache from trying not to cry. I should have just gone ahead and cried, as I'm fairly certain everyone in the group thinks I'm a basket case on the verge of a breakdown anyways...</div><div><br></div><div>But I'm really not. </div><div>I promise.</div>Chrissyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10252112847005002765noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2784464557053873364.post-71072146026526487542013-05-12T21:14:00.001-06:002013-05-12T21:14:47.740-06:00Happy Mother's DayI have had a wonderful Mother's Day weekend. I spent Thursday-Saturday at a cabin at Bear Lake with a wonderful group of women enjoying good food, funny movies, and lots of creative fun sewing and knitting! It was a perfect get away. <br />
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But not only did I get the gift of time off from my husband and kids, I came home to a clean house and all kinds of progress in the yard thanks to my sweet in-laws! They ripped out a bunch of overgrown areas and bushes and trees, and they also added rocks to the ramp retaining wall and planted flowers. I'm so happy with how it looks and excited to keep trying to get the yard in shape. <br />
<br />
Today has been a very nice, restful day. Brian has been so great about still taking charge of the cooking and the dishes and the kids. I really feel loved and refreshed, ready to start a new week of our busy, happy life. :)Chrissyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10252112847005002765noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2784464557053873364.post-1618668315695202292013-05-07T22:50:00.001-06:002013-05-07T22:50:39.529-06:00My mother's library...About a month ago or so my dad did me a huge favor and hired me to be his cleaning lady. It is the perfect job for this strange in between stage of my life where I still have a young child at home for 90% of the time and so I can't really find another job that wouldn't involve paying for some kind of daycare, which would render my working pretty pointless from a financial standpoint. But I can take Lila with me to my dad's, pull out the crayons and turn on Mickey Mouse which will usually buy me a solid hour of cleaning time. A lot of the time Lila helps me too, because for whatever reason the chores she balks at doing at home suddenly become fun at Grandpa's house.<br />
<br />
I've been slowly working my way through his house, deep cleaning a room at a time. My dad is actually a fairly neat and tidy individual, but men just don't see dust the way women do I guess.<br />
<br />
My latest project has been the library, or as I still call it the living room (because that's what that room was my whole life in that house and apparently my brain can't handle the change). My mom was a voracious reader and collector of books, and there are five 7' tall book shelves in that room crammed to the bursting point. My dad prefers to read on his kindle, which definitely collects less dust than book shelves full of books.<br />
<br />
It's taken me two weeks, but I went through each and every book in that room. I organized and arranged the books by genre so it's easier to find what you're looking for. I dusted and polished and cleaned the windows, so there is better light for reading. I hauled out two kitchen garbage bags of trash and random papers and pamphlets that were mixed in with the books. I took twenty grocery sacks of books to the book exchange. <br />
<br />
At first I felt a little uneasy, like I was dismantling the library my mother had built up, but as I spent hours sorting books and reading the blurbs on the back of them, I realized that she would be happier knowing her books were finding their way to people who would read and appreciate them, rather than having them sit moldering and collecting dust just because they once happened to be hers. And if there is one thing my mother taught me it was to enjoy reading and sharing the love of the written word with others.<br />
<br />
I also found journals she'd written, about her garden and her book club. I found letters and cards others had written to her. It was a sweet moment to see her handwriting and read her thoughts, and to read other people's kind words and memories about her too. I feel like it's been a tender mercy to find these treasures the week before Mother's Day.<br />
<br />
I think that the library is back on it's way to being what I'm pretty sure my mother envisioned it being, a relaxing place that invites you to browse through the shelves and curl up on the sofa with a good book for an hour or three. It's my favorite place at my dad's house, I like to sit quietly and visit with someone or read to one of my children when we are over visiting.Chrissyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10252112847005002765noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2784464557053873364.post-33276303151597953762013-05-06T21:55:00.001-06:002013-05-06T21:55:50.554-06:00Bad, bad blogger...I realized today that it has been a week since my last post. I feel this lapse can best be summed up by the statement, "My life got away from me."<br />
<br />
I want to post about the awesome baby shower we threw for Caitlin, but I am waiting until someone sends me pictures. Because I was so busy with food and decor and a million little details I completely spaced grabbing my camera! (I know, I refer you back to the title...) It was a wonderful party and we were so grateful for all the people who not only came but did so in some seriously fabulous hats! <br />
<br />
I am proud of the fact that despite working my fanny off on about three hours of sleep for two days in a row I only resorted to a single caffeinated beverage to push through. (I'm calling it a medicinal Dr. Pepper and therefore it doesn't count against me in my quest to not drink soda pop.)<br />
<br />
I am proud of the fact the Tiffany and her children managed an entire visit to my house without needing to visit an emergency room.<br />
<br />
But I don't want to post about how several people in my house apparently contracted dysentery the day after the shower. <br />
<br />
I do want to post that I have a simply wonderful visiting teacher. After I ranted a bit about my stressful morning on Facebook (I'm assuming that's how she knew) she popped by with a plate of cookies and a quick hello. Talk about sweetening my day. The cookies had sprinkles! And I don't know about you, but I just smile anytime I eat something with sprinkles on it. Thank you Hailey! :)<br />
<br />
That pretty much catches you up on my weekend, and I'm going to try not to fall so far behind again.<br />
<br />
<br />
Chrissyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10252112847005002765noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2784464557053873364.post-40693018085198465212013-04-29T23:03:00.001-06:002013-04-29T23:03:23.685-06:001st grade programWe got to go see Evie in a school program today. It was a vast improvement over past years, she didn't cry or look terrified even once.<br />
<br />
In fact, I thought you could tell that she comes from a long line of performers, she obviously understands the importance of enunciating... <br/><br/><div class="separator"style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgg6DF70W2DzBiVZ7ileFf25O2N3xTPwnVyKCZfq-7v71L48CBzmMa1bJJ_alatZyFccrSjVmeBSbw_1vN6y4SW5QgbAEFiSyb-Fa4uQeVVAM7IApWcQNP1MHEfwl_U_6y0S_E5X3tyAm0/s640/blogger-image-972418172.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgg6DF70W2DzBiVZ7ileFf25O2N3xTPwnVyKCZfq-7v71L48CBzmMa1bJJ_alatZyFccrSjVmeBSbw_1vN6y4SW5QgbAEFiSyb-Fa4uQeVVAM7IApWcQNP1MHEfwl_U_6y0S_E5X3tyAm0/s640/blogger-image-972418172.jpg" /></a></div>Chrissyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10252112847005002765noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2784464557053873364.post-7290123557341334582013-04-26T18:32:00.001-06:002013-04-26T18:32:25.415-06:00A conversation between two mothers...Hi!<br />
<br />
Hey! How's it going?<br />
<br />
Pretty good? How about you?<br />
<br />
Be quiet! I'm on the phone! Oh.. Not too bad.<br />
<br />
So I'm almost done with my sewing project. Well, get a drink of water then. You know where we keep the cups!<br />
<br />
Oh yeah? If you don't leave your brother alone I'm going to come over there and stick that toy in your ear and see how you like it! How's it turning out?<br />
<br />
You had an accident? Again?! Go get into the bathtub and strip down! Pretty good, but I'm not sure I'm going to have enough fabric for the trim... No! In the bathtub! Not the living room!<br />
<br />
Oh dear, I hate it when I run out if fabric! Stop poking me!<br />
<br />
What?! You threw up where? Go get in the bathtub too!<br />
<br />
If you guys come in this room again someone had better be bleeding or on fire!<br />
<br />
(Both moms simultaneously)<br />
Hey- can I call you back later? After the kids are in bed...<br />
<br />
<br />
Just for the record we can go hours around here floating along all calm and quiet, but the second someone calls me chaos is sure to erupt. But I keep answering because it's so nice to talk to another grown-up...Chrissyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10252112847005002765noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2784464557053873364.post-33140949497879278742013-04-24T20:36:00.001-06:002013-04-24T20:36:35.579-06:00Choose your words wisely...Jake brought home two balloons from Scouts. One was already blown up. Lila spied the flat balloon and was immediately begging to have a turn blowing up a balloon. <br />
<br />
When no one was looking she grabbed it and started trying to blow it up. Jake didn't care, but it made Brian upset. (More for OCD reasons than that she took her brother's balloon.) "Lila! Don't put that in your mouth!"<br />
<br />
Her lip pouted out and her eyes filled with tears, "But Daddy... I just wanted a turn blowing up a balloon."<br />
<br />
"It's okay, honey. You can blow up the balloon... Just don't... Never mind."<br />
<br />
I started to laugh, "You were just about to say, 'You can blow up the balloon, just don't put it in your mouth!' weren't you?"<br />
<br />
He frowned at me and said, "No! I just didn't want her to put the whole balloon in her mouth!"<br />
<br />
Um, yeah. She's four years old, not four months... you aren't fooling anyone, sweetie. :) <br/><br/><div class="separator"style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj__wHsvzVHOYR_J2ei-tQFadG7CDsud4XTMGq5OXNabd9duc0QQHsOiQATelztln5Mreq8mJs8W6ptuTXIQKiuPqBEJ1yK3sxPMG8cz2kF5MqVC_to82C3ZUVIfdFmDpwpWhTQWYRJX-0/s640/blogger-image--278973218.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj__wHsvzVHOYR_J2ei-tQFadG7CDsud4XTMGq5OXNabd9duc0QQHsOiQATelztln5Mreq8mJs8W6ptuTXIQKiuPqBEJ1yK3sxPMG8cz2kF5MqVC_to82C3ZUVIfdFmDpwpWhTQWYRJX-0/s640/blogger-image--278973218.jpg" /></a></div>Chrissyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10252112847005002765noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2784464557053873364.post-75221474314122914492013-04-23T21:34:00.001-06:002013-04-23T21:34:22.078-06:00Mushy brains...No, we didn't have to look at more anatomy specimens this week (Thank Heavens!), but after three hours on stem cell research, clinical trials, understanding medical research and how to find it on the Internet.... my brain has turned to mush! <br />
<br />
Otherwise today has been a pretty nice day. Lila and I got along like gangbusters! Jake has been rocking at school for the past week and a half, no missing work, and things turned in on time. I'm so proud of him and I can already tell a difference in his stress levels. And Evie... she is still the sweetest, loving-est, quietest kid I know. Actually that's not entirely true. It's not that she doesn't talk, it's more like she stores them up for days at a time and then has to use them all within an hour! <br />
<br />
Totally non-sequitur and disjointed writing tonight. I told you I had a mushy brain...Chrissyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10252112847005002765noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2784464557053873364.post-14189847806133956062013-04-22T20:56:00.001-06:002013-04-22T20:56:17.801-06:00What sisters are for...Tonight while the girls were eating and I was puttering around the kitchen, they were chattering about everything and nothing. Suddenly Evie changed the subject.<br />
<br />
"Hey Mom? Remember when I bumped heads with that boy from my class and I had a bleeding nose and a cut under my lip that wouldn't stop bleeding?"<br />
<br />
"Yes I do."<br />
<br />
"Yeah.... that was was the worst day of my life!"<br />
<br />
Lila then chimed in, "No, that was MY worst day of your life!"<br />
<br />
<br/><br/><div class="separator"style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh60wfijfzMkAnjnHgszjKnOYr5LKsNQRk-5WoTIOl2ZzCUArf-1pujSfvtDV3jLSybVIJNjmwGmKoi9-1WmtoXWz8Qyr5GBPer7RfDi8MYxJ_J8OcyzYmRQ-cwqXbARZko3MqfoHvkfD0/s640/blogger-image--1136596845.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh60wfijfzMkAnjnHgszjKnOYr5LKsNQRk-5WoTIOl2ZzCUArf-1pujSfvtDV3jLSybVIJNjmwGmKoi9-1WmtoXWz8Qyr5GBPer7RfDi8MYxJ_J8OcyzYmRQ-cwqXbARZko3MqfoHvkfD0/s640/blogger-image--1136596845.jpg" /></a></div>Chrissyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10252112847005002765noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2784464557053873364.post-35180047041553493342013-04-21T21:31:00.001-06:002013-04-21T21:31:47.256-06:00A perfect Sunday...Today we got to go to Brian's parent's ward and hear them report on their mission. It was a great meeting for me, in no small part because I sat two row behind everyone else with Brian in the wheelchair spot, and the rest of our family kept our kids up with them. I got to sit quietly and hear every word! It was heavenly...<br />
<br />
Afterwards we spent several hours eating and visiting with family and friends. The kids had a blast playing with their cousins, and all in all it was just a wonderful day. The kind that refreshes you and gets you ready to start the week anew.Chrissyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10252112847005002765noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2784464557053873364.post-82950919253331061742013-04-20T22:12:00.001-06:002013-04-20T22:20:09.501-06:00Some angels deliver sandwiches for Jimmy Johns...Well he did it! Brian rode 26.2 miles and finished his first marathon in 2:34:20!<br />
<br />
It was a crazy experience for all of us. The kids and I arrived at the finish line shortly after 7 am, and then we waited... and waited... and waited. It started raining shortly after we arrived and didn't stop the entire time we were there. We were bundled up pretty well, but even with umbrellas we were quickly damp, then wet, then soaked. The kids had each grabbed a piece of bread as we walked out the door, so after two hours of standing around watching bikers and runners I had three shivering, starving, exhausted, miserable kids on my hands and nothing to give them. Just as Lila was about to completely melt down completely, Jimmy John's workers were moving through the crowds handing out little sandwiches. I could have kissed that man as he gave my kids something to eat!<br />
<br />
The biggest bummer of the day was that the way they had the barricades set up and draped with the marathon banners we couldn't even see the hand-cycles as try crosses the finish line. After more then three hours of straining to see around the crowds and umbrellas we did't even see Brian riding at all! I don't know how I missed him, but suddenly my phone was ringing and he was calling me to say he was done and waiting at the bike trailer. So I didn't even get a single picture of him at the race, fortunately on of his team mates got a great picture of him at the starting line and said he would email to us tomorrow.<br />
<br />
It was so cold that when I found Brian there was a nurse with the Trails program talking to a doctor and talking about taking him to the hospital! He was shivering and shaking so badly, and he couldn't seem to catch his breath. That was pretty scary! But while we walked back to get our car, they got him into another car and cranked up the heat, they also got him out of his wet shirt and wrapped up in one of those emergency tinfoil blanket things. So by the time I drove back to them he was feeling much better. (We found out later that another hand-cyclist on his team did get taken to the hospital to be treated for hypothermia! It was wicked cold!)<br />
<br />
I am so proud of Brian. Like he said to one of the nursing students that was helping after the race, "Considering that the first time I sat my butt in one of those bikes was three weeks ago, I think the fact that I finished the race is pretty impressive." I couldn't agree more!<br />
<br />
I'm also proud of my kids. They were such troopers through what can only be termed an absolutely miserable experience. Even though there was a point when we were all in tears, there was no tantrums or whining. In fact Lila took me by surprise as we were walking back to the car, cold and wet, she was sobbing, huge tears rolling down her cheeks. I leaned down to give her a hug and try to comfort her, but before I could even say anything she looked up with her big, brown eyes and said, "Just think of all the adventures we have had today Mom."<br />
<br />
Yep, I have a pretty amazing family. No doubt about it. Chrissyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10252112847005002765noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2784464557053873364.post-19019758028421004852013-04-19T21:43:00.001-06:002013-04-19T21:43:58.946-06:00Early to bed...I just have to say it. If you had told me a month ago that my husband was going to give up drinking Mt. Dew and do a marathon, I would have said you were bat-crap crazy... once I was able to stop laughing, that is. <br />
<br />
But here we are, going to bed at 9:30 on a Friday night, because tomorrow he is doing a marathon. It's a little surreal, but we are all so excited and proud of him. It's going to be awesome seeing him cross that finish line tomorrow!<br />
<br />
P.S. I am even more impressed with him because he either has a broken or deeply bruised rib, and he hasn't let that slow him down or stop him from achieving this goal. Man, exercise does release those feel good endorphins! Chrissyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10252112847005002765noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2784464557053873364.post-47955092507944918952013-04-17T23:07:00.001-06:002013-04-17T23:07:43.488-06:00Blocked....I have been trying to start a sock for two days now. Actually I have started about four different socks over the past two days. But none of my color/pattern combinations have worked. So for two days of work I have four rounds of knitting to show for it... and if this one doesn't work I'm shoving all the sock yarn back into the stash and casting on another baby hat. <br/><br/><div class="separator"style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjf4ZGgYFO92qCL_HW5qD30PFR7HCLCd2YyBZT6fw-r3gcjOl1BpLipEyAntow9g8v-vFxiWYKmj02UKCF9ICPi02ba2vJikua1lLbaWA_nHr8mu5WF7MIspR2hod5RgkiXNX28_G_xifk/s640/blogger-image--601730199.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjf4ZGgYFO92qCL_HW5qD30PFR7HCLCd2YyBZT6fw-r3gcjOl1BpLipEyAntow9g8v-vFxiWYKmj02UKCF9ICPi02ba2vJikua1lLbaWA_nHr8mu5WF7MIspR2hod5RgkiXNX28_G_xifk/s640/blogger-image--601730199.jpg" /></a></div>Chrissyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10252112847005002765noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2784464557053873364.post-69267388881141553792013-04-16T22:21:00.001-06:002013-04-16T22:21:36.196-06:00Yesterday and today...I didn't post yesterday because I was too sad and too overwhelmed by another horrible event playing out in the media. The Boston Marathon bombing. I sat all afternoon watching the news and alternately crying and praying for all those people who had their lives irrevocably changed in an instant by senseless violence.<br />
<br />
It just seemed small and meaningless to post a cutesy story about how Jake brought home a stick that he found at recess to be his "stick to shake at the crayons... because, Mom, you're always saying we have more crayons then you could shake a stick at."<br />
<br />
But then I started seeing post after post, and story after story about people rushing to the rescue. Acts of kindness and sacrifice and heroism, and I read a quote (that I can't find who to attribute it to now) that I know will always stick with me, "The good outnumber you, and we will always will." <br />
<br />
So maybe it's not meaningless, to share the light and love and humor in my life. It's something I want for my children, to be able to face the world in all it's ugliness, and still find beauty and hope. Because the good outnumbers the bad, and it always will.<br />
<br />
Now on to today.<br />
<br />
Today I saw brains. <br />
<br />
Real, actual brains that used to be inside of a human....<br />
<br />
I am not a person for whom the medical field holds any fascination. I am incredibly grateful that there are people who are so inclined and become doctors and nurses, because I can barely handle the blood and vomit that is part of a Mom's job. But biology... not so much. I just about flunked out of my high school biology class because when you dissect a frog, his insides are not color coded. So it pretty much all looked like grey mushy stuff to me, I couldn't tell a heart from a kidney. I'm not even 100% my frog was a he, but I figured that at least I had a 50/50 shot at getting that one right.<br />
<br />
But I digress...<br />
<br />
Brian and I went to the Spinal Cord Injury Forum tonight. It is a six week lecture series put on by the U of U, and they cover all sorts of topics about spinal cord injuries, treatments, therapies, advancements in assistive technologies, and you get dinner. (Which I might not have eaten if I'd known we were going to be looking at brains later on...)<br />
<br />
There was an hour long lecture, which this week was an overview of all the topics they'll be covering. Then we break off into smaller groups and get more specific information on a topic. Tonight's were anatomy (you know... the brains... Actually it was a whole brain, a brain cut in half, and a spinal cord... which is very cord-y), spinal fracture, and pressure ulcers, which had a ton of pictures I'd really rather not have seen... but also lots of good information. I'm pretty sure the doctors all thought I was at least half a nut job since I watched most of their presentations peeking between my fingers. I was mostly just grateful that I didn't pass out or throw up on anybody. Especially when the anatomy doctor started cutting into the spinal cord to show us different things.<br />
<br />
I am glad we went and I plan on attending the whole six weeks with Brian. I am sincerely hoping that they got all the gore out of the way tonight though...Chrissyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10252112847005002765noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2784464557053873364.post-5651242244870886632013-04-14T20:51:00.001-06:002013-04-14T20:51:58.364-06:00Wish us luck....Brian and I are definite night owls. If we get to bed before midnight there is an excellent chance that one of us is sick. But with this new found (re-found?) passion for cycling, Brian has to get up early so that he can get off work early enough to still have daylight to go riding. Plus the for the marathon next week he has to get up at 4 a.m.! So just like he is training his muscles to have strength and endurance, he now must train his body to sleep and get up earlier. This week we have a goal to be in bed by 10:30 at the latest. I for one am very interested to see how he reacts when I tell him it's time for bed, he may burst into tears just like our girls do...Chrissyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10252112847005002765noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2784464557053873364.post-82046214510564901812013-04-12T23:47:00.001-06:002013-04-12T23:47:05.609-06:00What I want to remember...Today I was a really good parent.<br />
<br />
Jake and I worked together to find a solution to a problem he's having at school.<br />
<br />
I didn't raise my voice once.<br />
<br />
I think we both get gold stars.<br />
<br />
Today I was a fun mom.<br />
<br />
I ignored the piles of laundry and played video games with my kids instead.<br />
<br />
And in that moment that was the most important thing I could have been doing.<br />
<br />
Today I was mom who said yes.<br />
<br />
Yes to ice cream at the grocery store.<br />
<br />
I had my heart melt a little as I watched my kids feeding each other tastes of their ice cream and trying to decide who had picked the best flavor.<br />
<br />
(It was a three way tie, as each person voted for their own choice....)<br />
<br />
Today I was a patient mom.<br />
<br />
I drove across town so my kids could enter their drawings into a contest.<br />
<br />
I then waited in the car while Jake finished coloring his.<br />
<br />
Today I was an awesome mom.<br />
<br />
I am posting this mostly for my own benefit, and for my children's, so that we can all look back and remember that even though I am not a perfect mom I am trying really hard. <br />
<br />
And somedays I am better at it than others.<br />
<br />
Chrissyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10252112847005002765noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2784464557053873364.post-13963642279276454762013-04-11T20:36:00.001-06:002013-04-11T20:36:30.687-06:00Aka...Affectionately Known As Toothless.<br />
<br />
Miss Evie has now lost a grand total of four teeth. She is keeping us all laughing by telling us that "It'th hard to with-el" and "Now everybody ith going to thing 'All I want for Chrith-meth' at me!"<br />
<br />
<br/><br/><div class="separator"style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjvLQ2pYny9j_a1dyztzHU7Wfw-gxxXUmMMcz8J_pIabSKOru8zP1TbxXUAVHzbAdi24sucjX73A_s9hssKj_pjaAYDx1F1DvJBX-mdWitO59vZb7bGnS8-SjDxbQo_9NjcBL9rPLsQLf4/s640/blogger-image--335213178.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjvLQ2pYny9j_a1dyztzHU7Wfw-gxxXUmMMcz8J_pIabSKOru8zP1TbxXUAVHzbAdi24sucjX73A_s9hssKj_pjaAYDx1F1DvJBX-mdWitO59vZb7bGnS8-SjDxbQo_9NjcBL9rPLsQLf4/s640/blogger-image--335213178.jpg" /></a></div>Chrissyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10252112847005002765noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2784464557053873364.post-85377597599774337132013-04-11T00:00:00.001-06:002013-04-11T00:00:45.424-06:00Caite's shadow...Anyone who knew my sister when she was a little girl knows that Lila is practically a carbon copy of her. Same nose, same smile, same chocolate brown eyes... if I didn't know better I'd swear that she was Caitlin's child instead of mine. Lila also adores her Aunt Caite and the highlight of her week usually involves days when Caite comes down to spend time with us. The second she walks in the door she is bombarded with a four year old's stream-of-consciousness conversation which usually ends with "Hey Caite, can I play on your Kindle?"<br />
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Yesterday we were at my dad's and Caitlin went upstairs, followed by her little shadow chattering non-stop behind her. A few minutes later they came back down and I just had to laugh. Caite has reached the stage of pregnancy where she walks with one hand on her back and one hand supporting her belly. She was followed by Lila, who was arching her back and sticking her belly out as far as it would go, and she also had one hand on her back and one hand on her belly. They came into the library where I was still giggling helplessly, and Lila looked at me crossly and said, "Hey! Our backs hurt!"<br />
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Today Caitlin was over to our house and while we were talking she lifted her shirt slightly as she scratched her belly. Lila was playing on the floor by us and saw Caite do this. She made us both jump by yelling, "AHA! That baby is NOT just tucked under your shirt!" <br />
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Caite looked wistful and said, "Nope, I can't just take her out at night.... Wouldn't it be cool if you could though?" Soon Caite-did, very soon. And then, believe it or not, there will come a time when you wish you could put them back inside you where they were a little less demanding. ;) <br/><br/><div class="separator"style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiIaZWCiCR2DA5Wn7lc7SoPEYJC0qW3umAKUFmvdVlZANMX5BegMyvmHib1MWBasGaXcTnxRxsJqEPQpg_UpKuLI29j75bkw507YXPBSY_LuRCBsJjLELrKoajO3oiKP0L4AbpEDQdJCIQ/s640/blogger-image-1052894660.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiIaZWCiCR2DA5Wn7lc7SoPEYJC0qW3umAKUFmvdVlZANMX5BegMyvmHib1MWBasGaXcTnxRxsJqEPQpg_UpKuLI29j75bkw507YXPBSY_LuRCBsJjLELrKoajO3oiKP0L4AbpEDQdJCIQ/s640/blogger-image-1052894660.jpg" /></a></div>Chrissyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10252112847005002765noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2784464557053873364.post-75087284705000492652013-04-09T23:03:00.001-06:002013-04-09T23:03:31.411-06:00Dinner conversation with Lila...Me: Hey Lila, would you like a piece of bread?<br />
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Lila: Oh, no thank you.<br />
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Me: Are you sure? See, it's just a little piece.<br />
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Lila: I wouldn't care for it tonight... but I appreciate the offer.<br />
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This girl gets more and more like Jake every day. Heaven help me... :)Chrissyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10252112847005002765noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2784464557053873364.post-49150479420965787032013-04-08T21:13:00.001-06:002013-04-08T21:13:44.663-06:00Daddy's girls...It's times like these that make me smile and say to Brian, "It's too bad our girls don't love you more."<br />
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It melts my heart that this is the the place they feel safest in the world, wrapped in their Daddy's arms. <br/><br/><div class="separator"style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhPJy6sKXMIZGccScvepqm9EmsyO3IryW5a1-Oz9wb23vIEPHfWGMN59Z5Peu57URnk8kLdXeXU99Qo1AZ-uZ15_Ma7W2GcyI1rfdyGA-1Ika31BSDlT7YOgtrjYpjXsZLr7hqw9d9bsss/s640/blogger-image-1479769799.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhPJy6sKXMIZGccScvepqm9EmsyO3IryW5a1-Oz9wb23vIEPHfWGMN59Z5Peu57URnk8kLdXeXU99Qo1AZ-uZ15_Ma7W2GcyI1rfdyGA-1Ika31BSDlT7YOgtrjYpjXsZLr7hqw9d9bsss/s640/blogger-image-1479769799.jpg" /></a></div>Chrissyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10252112847005002765noreply@blogger.com1