tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-73399559911352211392024-03-21T09:03:18.075-07:00simply nicolenicolehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04046879253248834133noreply@blogger.comBlogger36125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7339955991135221139.post-63753001019349589222014-08-12T18:44:00.001-07:002014-08-12T18:44:59.062-07:00julyoh my we were busy in july…lots of fun with family and friends.<br />
a family reunion at bear lake.<br />
a lot of camping.<br />
and lots of fun on a boat with just the 5 of us. <br />
a trip to seattle to visit gamma and gampa.<br />
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during this trip to seattle i was talking with my sister…and i told her this:<br />
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i think i <i>need</i> to be around my family. it makes me the most happy. like, i <i>need</i> to be around my family to really be who i am. <br />
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i'm here, in this little home, with my family of 5, in this little city. and it's good. we are good. i have plenty of good friends. and good fun with them. i laugh. a lot. but my family is my family, and i need to be with them. they know me. they love me. they are my tribe. <br />
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my sister asked me:<br />
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what are you going to do? <br />
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and i replied:<br />
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oh i don't know. what can i do. i'll just have to visit <i>a lot</i>.<br />
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so to all you who are in my tribe, know that i need you. that you are loved. <br />
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<br />nicolehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04046879253248834133noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7339955991135221139.post-27369510112042291802014-07-15T20:15:00.006-07:002014-07-15T20:15:56.906-07:00june<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<span style="text-align: justify;">june was mr. m's and my anniversary month…</span></div>
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12 years. i can't look at this man and think of just <i>us</i> on our anniversary. i look at this man and think of the husband and <i>father</i> he has become. and i love this man.</div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhyTJ98UMkdguLPcU6D-epGh0T5EYNuXb4W_pvbtkFisS_vhIC4HoDwhCtRAPxrbGlK9uzKAAuq5LoEOO8Z3ulEtFIg6U_eKU4PpGFPHF-kgwi2iG9t8KYkgD9-l2QUWSw4zzzlyWJQBNaK/s1600/fathers+day+collage.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhyTJ98UMkdguLPcU6D-epGh0T5EYNuXb4W_pvbtkFisS_vhIC4HoDwhCtRAPxrbGlK9uzKAAuq5LoEOO8Z3ulEtFIg6U_eKU4PpGFPHF-kgwi2iG9t8KYkgD9-l2QUWSw4zzzlyWJQBNaK/s1600/fathers+day+collage.jpg" height="640" width="640" /></a></div>
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12 things i have learned…</div>
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1. communication: it's always number 1, right? but it's reality. good, bad, ugly. it needs to be said. mr. m is not a mind reader, and i'm not either. but you've got to say when you're happy, when you're mad, when you're sad, and when you agree, or when you don't. say what you need to say.</div>
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2. romance: just because you're married doesn't mean you don't try any more. date the heck out of each other. flirt. do nice things for each other. say 'i love you' randomly. if you feel like giving him a kiss, do it! i might give him a dirty look when he grabs my butt while i'm cooking dinner, but i secretly love it. want each other, need each other.</div>
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3. support: in everything. even if your scared. even if you don't 100% agree. in marriage, in parenting, in <i>life</i>. be enthusiastic, be subtle. whatever it is, show confidence. you're partners. that's what you do.</div>
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4. have fun: period.</div>
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5. laugh: period. i like to say that we laugh with each other a lot. and this is one of my favorite things about us.</div>
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6. perfection: he isn't perfect. but neither am i. stop trying to make each other perfect. we have faults.</div>
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7. comparing: the grass isn't always greener on the other side. some else's husband or wife might do something better…but it doesn't mean they do <i>everything</i> better. and just because someone is going through a similar situation, it doesn't mean the outcome will be the same. </div>
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8. disappointment: i don't always make mr. m happy. but he doesn't always make me happy either. and our expectations are not always fulfilled. but if we are trying and doing the best we can…that is all we can expect from each other. be happy with that.</div>
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9. rough roads: they happen. and they suck. but if we hold hands and walk the road together, we'll make it. and we have. time and time again. don't give up. </div>
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10. acceptance: like perfection, accept the faults. they will drive you nuts sometimes, but it is what it is. some get better with time, some don't. you married each other for a reason. </div>
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11. family: his are not my blood, and mine are not his blood. but respect that they are blood. be kind, be polite, be respectful.</div>
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12. lessons: more lessons will come. i will learn from some, and some i will have to learn over and over. and just because we have to learn them does not mean that the marriage is doomed. communicate, be romantic, have fun, laugh, accept…hold hands. </div>
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i've got him, and he has got me. and together we have 3 beautiful children that we have to set an example for. set an example of a good marriage, of what's acceptable and what's not. </div>
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so mr. m? i've got to say that we are headed in the right direction. and i love that we continue to grow together. i love you too much my one and only.</div>
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xoxo</div>
nicolehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04046879253248834133noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7339955991135221139.post-73374618429097349672014-06-05T10:12:00.000-07:002014-06-05T10:12:40.047-07:00may<div style="text-align: center;">
You're the best. And don't you forget it. Or at the very least remind yourself <i>very</i> often. </div>
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If you're trying, you're the best woman (man), wife (husband), mother (father), cook, housekeeper, crafter, sewer, budgeter, giver, runner, business owner, <i>fill in the blank here</i>, that <i>you</i> can possibly be.</div>
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And don't short change yourself. </div>
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Now I'm not trying to show off here…and I'm not trying to earn praise. But I opened a box to a sewing machine that Mr. M bought me 3 years ago. For 3 years it sat in the corner of a room unopened. My hubs often commented that he was going to sell it since I wasn't making any use of it. Sure…I wanted to learn how to sew, but I had <i>never sewn anything in my life and didn't think I could</i>. Fast forward to the last couple months…</div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh3EXFNoGAqgTnzZUevBbB41Dgcz6SgBhZgVBHtwrOfcoVEBgXOJcB7M5s3_jCeWGsB5zDDpJ4c_pEHhlFLtk16n5WapBWajhNKVhKqiE5y7khIG098_58k4tPZ4ohJ5BvElZbUnXk163NN/s1600/Untitled.tiff" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh3EXFNoGAqgTnzZUevBbB41Dgcz6SgBhZgVBHtwrOfcoVEBgXOJcB7M5s3_jCeWGsB5zDDpJ4c_pEHhlFLtk16n5WapBWajhNKVhKqiE5y7khIG098_58k4tPZ4ohJ5BvElZbUnXk163NN/s1600/Untitled.tiff" height="265" width="400" /></a></div>
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<span style="text-align: justify;">I made a layette from a favorite father's shirt for a newborn babe, and a dolly for that babe and my daughters…and niece…and a friend. And I love it! And I am the best at it! </span></div>
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<span style="text-align: justify;">Sure. They are not perfect. And with practice I'll improve. But they are the best I could do, and I am pretty proud of myself. </span></div>
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<span style="text-align: justify;">Too often I have heard my dear friends say (when they have received a compliment or given encouragement), oh I'm not that great…</span></div>
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Stop it! Because you are.</div>
nicolehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04046879253248834133noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7339955991135221139.post-75459179397711053962014-05-07T21:53:00.003-07:002014-05-07T21:53:34.976-07:00april<div style="text-align: justify;">
I have been thinking about my April post for some time. And while sitting on my couch, in a <i>rare</i> moment of solitude and peace, scrolling through social media, I came upon this little nugget:</div>
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The level of attack you're under tells you two things. First, it tells you how valuable you are to God in your assignment and second, it tells you the level of blessing that is waiting for you when you get through this attack. - Jentezen Franklin</div>
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<span style="font-size: xx-small;"><i>{thanks for posting this Jen}</i></span></div>
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While I don't know who Mr. Franklin is, his words resonated with me. I've been struggling lately. Feeling a little tired, and a lot overwhelmed, and not really understanding why I was feeling how I was feeling. I had prayed, and gone to church, and felt peace…but the feelings would creep back in - no, wait - the feelings would slam back up on me come Monday. </div>
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So when I read this…literally just moments ago. It hit me. It's so simple really. And I realized it was what I understood to be true all along and that is why I have been plugging away. My trials have been hard, <i>for me. </i>I've been under attack. But the Lord is watching over me, knows I can handle it, and in the end? Sweet victory. Blessings that I will appreciate so much more, because I <i>earned</i> them. </div>
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Ok…enough life lessons. I made this adorable onsie for my lovely friend and her soon to be only girl in a house full of boys. It's sewn from a mens' tee. I found the tutorial <a href="http://thismamamakesstuff.com/tutorial-rockin-baby-gown-t-shirt-refashion/" target="_blank"><span style="color: #c27ba0;">here</span></a>. I made her two…this one from a new tee for practice, and the second from her hubbies well loved tee. How special is that? </div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi5zvcwI4ztQcm1h0NYzwuPk2EwjI5Zf7C_QCojubZI1dlWPXtAPOcy1dO2zLj_ggurY9RGvynDgtp5axfmfVHLuozqrwKlLxki8p9fx5h_q9tn6A70c-B9bWiNMNg-7orq2a9i4cVzBAI8/s1600/onsie.tiff" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi5zvcwI4ztQcm1h0NYzwuPk2EwjI5Zf7C_QCojubZI1dlWPXtAPOcy1dO2zLj_ggurY9RGvynDgtp5axfmfVHLuozqrwKlLxki8p9fx5h_q9tn6A70c-B9bWiNMNg-7orq2a9i4cVzBAI8/s1600/onsie.tiff" height="320" width="291" /></a></div>
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<i><span style="font-size: xx-small;">{just a little sneak peek lovely L}</span></i></div>
nicolehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04046879253248834133noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7339955991135221139.post-38759307226314083402014-04-07T10:44:00.002-07:002014-04-07T16:28:56.804-07:00march<div style="text-align: justify;">
march was a busy month…and i did something i never thought i would do. </div>
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i sewed, people! this is a big event. and this is what i made…my first. time. ever.</div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjFAI6XntRhUq2J1anBL5N_XPDZ0G_pO4cg5Ayfk9Z2qrzZ_w3aNTxEDpD8vadvzyL3TlpH4zjSx5fO4RyLcQNc115v2jS5EYXAuR-_9P5f7reuWTX3HK39NOj4PNYQQz0gH8frnklWh9AQ/s1600/20140327_124520.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjFAI6XntRhUq2J1anBL5N_XPDZ0G_pO4cg5Ayfk9Z2qrzZ_w3aNTxEDpD8vadvzyL3TlpH4zjSx5fO4RyLcQNc115v2jS5EYXAuR-_9P5f7reuWTX3HK39NOj4PNYQQz0gH8frnklWh9AQ/s1600/20140327_124520.jpg" height="300" width="400" /></a></div>
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and i loved every minute of it…even when i had tension problems. with the bobbin, not myself. </div>
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and no, i'm not pregnant and expecting a boy. these were for my sweet friend who is expecting her first…and i'm so excited for her!</div>
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i realized something while doing these little projects. i need this. i need to create. to make. </div>
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i created 3 little people {with the help of mr. m}, and they were the best 'things' i could create. </div>
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but i need an outlet. along with the whining and crying and busying of house duties, i need something to do that is for me…something that makes me feel special in a different way other then being a momma. it's good for the soul, and i highly recommend taking some time out and doing something that makes you feel special. we take care of everyone else, sometimes you need to take care of yourself. </div>
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and one more thing.</div>
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sometimes you need to be just a mom. create memories with your little 'things'. because the best feeling in the world is doing something that makes your sweet little boy sigh with contentment and say, 'this was a good day.' my women friends…being a mom is important. the most important thing you will ever do. oh there will be mistakes. for. sure. but it is a divine gift…</div>
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nicolehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04046879253248834133noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7339955991135221139.post-71705608671284661242014-03-03T13:11:00.000-08:002014-03-03T13:11:16.412-08:00february<div style="text-align: justify;">
I went through some stuff in February. Well, I have been going through some stuff for a couple of months now. Personal growth. I know, right? How could <i>this</i> get any better?! Well, I'm not as perfect as I thought I was. And neither is everyone else or life for that matter. But we have personal standards. And we hold our bars <i>this high</i>. The trouble with that? We get disappointed. A lot. Not only with people, but with life. </div>
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I'm a perfectionist…and a visualist. I see how I want things and when they don't turn out that way, well, I get a little crabby. My bar wasn't reached, the standard wasn't fulfilled. So then life becomes this thing of not what I envisioned. And the thing with <i>that </i>is I'm missing the good. The wonderful. The fun. The love. I'm dwelling on the negative. I'm dwelling on the what if's and shoulda coulda's. </div>
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Let it go.</div>
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Let it be.</div>
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Move <i>on</i>.</div>
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So the thing I learned was…I need to change my attitude. As I've mentioned before. There will be moments where life sucks a little bit. And times where it will suck a lot. But as I've seen in some wonderful people I know, if I will change my attitude, my behavior (cause face it…I was down right mean to my hubs and wee little ones because of my own attitude problem, not theirs), and my actions, well, life could be beautiful. And only I can create that. </div>
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So choose your beauty. Choose your happiness. Choose to smile. And above all else? Ask Him for help. It was the only way I finally got over that hump. And it will continue to be the only way I will be able to stay over that hump. </div>
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Attitude check indeed.</div>
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nicolehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04046879253248834133noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7339955991135221139.post-84693752950431518182014-02-05T11:51:00.001-08:002014-02-05T11:55:46.770-08:00january 2014<iframe allowfullscreen="" frameborder="0" height="270" src="//www.youtube.com/embed/l5-EwrhsMzY" width="480"></iframe><br />
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this year is going to be different. i've resolved to try harder and do more. <br />
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and i want to remember this. the things i accomplish and the things i learn. <br />
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this sums it up. we are awesome! bad things are going to happen. life is going to be rough sometimes. <br />
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but good things will happen too. and life will be amazing. <br />
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strive to be happy, strive to do good, strive to be you, and in all that striving know that plenty of people think you are awesome and love you. <br />
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and above all the Lord loves you…and he is ALWAYS there for you.nicolehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04046879253248834133noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7339955991135221139.post-71496192374796359602012-07-23T20:53:00.001-07:002012-07-23T21:07:36.177-07:00the word 'mom'<div style="text-align: center;">
sometimes i look around at this little life we've made...and i get this lightening bolt of awe. this man that i fell in love with. a chance meeting that turned into a relationship, and then a marriage, and then a family. a home. 2 kids. a boy, and a girl. little people that call me 'mom'.<br />
i stand a little stunned sometimes. it takes me a second to realize they are talking to me. <br />
mom, c'mere. mom, help me. mom, watch this! mom, can i have some chocolate milk? <br />
that word gets me every time {well, almost every time...}. these two little beings were trusted to me by my heavenly father to love. and call ME mom. goofy, funny, sweet, adorable, trying kids. <br />
mom, i love you. yep, get's me every time.</div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg5XMNGLYVxOhMsz46txOf8vLgW_9JAs8SfNkao5Xl71KGAzh12Tvc1AOweGASUCEZqQfvZsW-xa5CMowQGi1-KdVzF1n-EW65F2i6Jyfo6R5-YmD47gtNpZHtu5wkhTRgJoX60Zs_lN0_6/s1600/the+word+mom.tiff" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="302" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg5XMNGLYVxOhMsz46txOf8vLgW_9JAs8SfNkao5Xl71KGAzh12Tvc1AOweGASUCEZqQfvZsW-xa5CMowQGi1-KdVzF1n-EW65F2i6Jyfo6R5-YmD47gtNpZHtu5wkhTRgJoX60Zs_lN0_6/s400/the+word+mom.tiff" width="400" /></a></div>
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<br /></div>nicolehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04046879253248834133noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7339955991135221139.post-74648897083477248372012-06-20T14:47:00.001-07:002012-06-20T14:47:11.686-07:00ten<div style="text-align: center;">
2 kids, 32 weeks, and 10 years later...</div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEisH_yZpKksPrcJOMleAqcXVE7akMjfydpFHxTVGQuVjsXKkA2RxDyNgv6yu4kdtjG7KANEAKa6tQQKL-ZSzudXI02fM5-tpNQE8n0n4d3NoyOLAQBQXZl0hIG2eDKfethGcB4UTvlDdFhA/s1600/10years.tiff" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="347" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEisH_yZpKksPrcJOMleAqcXVE7akMjfydpFHxTVGQuVjsXKkA2RxDyNgv6yu4kdtjG7KANEAKa6tQQKL-ZSzudXI02fM5-tpNQE8n0n4d3NoyOLAQBQXZl0hIG2eDKfethGcB4UTvlDdFhA/s400/10years.tiff" width="400" /></a></div>
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those years are like notches </div>
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some battle wounds, some love taps</div>
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either way they are ours</div>
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each year better and better, each year more and more love</div>
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looking back on our road...i marvel</div>
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who would have thought that chance meeting would take us here</div>
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who would have thought those years of figuring it out would bring us to this</div>
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no one</div>
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but it did, and i'm proud, and i'm grateful, and i'm more in love then ever</div>
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happy anniversary to us</div>
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<br /></div>nicolehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04046879253248834133noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7339955991135221139.post-82591066222403983882012-05-23T20:49:00.001-07:002012-05-23T20:49:20.630-07:00lets eat<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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dinner. the bane of my existence. however, pinterest has me getting some 'yum's at home. </div>
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now meet my husband. </div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgfT1nU2UzagtRfZDzDy3R4PicOMmzv5Ct0ApIiBokShiJa8ghNoIezURB0UZE5eZOQZ-zDiWPu28lArN5DkV2idjh0493qdi_GuW8olB7mU6f1nm0MDij72O7FBOmYxRS_TqiZtz9MGylk/s1600/IMG_1981.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgfT1nU2UzagtRfZDzDy3R4PicOMmzv5Ct0ApIiBokShiJa8ghNoIezURB0UZE5eZOQZ-zDiWPu28lArN5DkV2idjh0493qdi_GuW8olB7mU6f1nm0MDij72O7FBOmYxRS_TqiZtz9MGylk/s320/IMG_1981.JPG" width="320" /></a></div>
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isn't he handsome? i think he is. and do you see that beautiful brown skin? yeah, it's the puerto rican and greek in him. did you hear me? the puerto rican and greek. that means this man has grown up with some serious grub. and i know this because he has asked me to learn how to cook like his mama. you know what i say to those hazel eyes? have you looked at me lately hon? i'm a white girl. i can make a mean hamburger off the grill and some home cooked french fries. but for the love of love i've been trying really hard to satisfy his tastebuds...and i'm sharing a few good eats with you. {via pinterest of course.} they are not greek, or puerto rican, but they are good. hubby approved. kids approved...and they inherited his tastebuds.</div>
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<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgLuby9i0MbeuUTXhGNP865nb3TfsAHp8RloGV13dp2CQ6hYNjGYVhRA5mwLF97Ad-otXRz1ZnJLGRsxe9ekjns5qGLBSNdz6QCrGC-kZ85bxi-KYQFklgTJX7v_np_VT0kjOMeHSY2xGie/s1600/grilled+bruschetta+chicken.tiff" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgLuby9i0MbeuUTXhGNP865nb3TfsAHp8RloGV13dp2CQ6hYNjGYVhRA5mwLF97Ad-otXRz1ZnJLGRsxe9ekjns5qGLBSNdz6QCrGC-kZ85bxi-KYQFklgTJX7v_np_VT0kjOMeHSY2xGie/s320/grilled+bruschetta+chicken.tiff" width="239" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><i>grilled bruschetta chicken</i></td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEifzRY8Bgw8DMF4g1d9Ffa6lKocWY_ctpINJVQf6DpQ0FfZ2LoT4LQ3KNfFGDYwX_p0aItOyLL5Ulfx29WUyl87W-X6NAAR3eB7wdOeC9aPIIzMVs4me6nd8gOdAKowvr6zIFDb5qmoUYuA/s1600/key+west+lime+chicken.tiff" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="211" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEifzRY8Bgw8DMF4g1d9Ffa6lKocWY_ctpINJVQf6DpQ0FfZ2LoT4LQ3KNfFGDYwX_p0aItOyLL5Ulfx29WUyl87W-X6NAAR3eB7wdOeC9aPIIzMVs4me6nd8gOdAKowvr6zIFDb5qmoUYuA/s320/key+west+lime+chicken.tiff" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><i>key west grilled chicken</i></td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgmw1yHyi3G6N7sETcfCWKTCc7VHKgXU_1waXk2PSSBN3MJ-G5X-b8_XOwx9RJKO0b7rC1LlRaPqgZn5wln6XjNUPxmlZ38Ec9lSMtnbsdsAESXkdplPKWO5pbCuZXy68Pfh84kaYrOmH7g/s1600/crock+pot+chicken+fajitas.tiff" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="210" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgmw1yHyi3G6N7sETcfCWKTCc7VHKgXU_1waXk2PSSBN3MJ-G5X-b8_XOwx9RJKO0b7rC1LlRaPqgZn5wln6XjNUPxmlZ38Ec9lSMtnbsdsAESXkdplPKWO5pbCuZXy68Pfh84kaYrOmH7g/s320/crock+pot+chicken+fajitas.tiff" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><i>crockpot chicken fajitas</i></td></tr>
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<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj1GAciKcgly9tN7Hao-BNwbqbSF5GOoQ8Uww8_BgypBeNEq0cPScqMtnqG-yCNdDCNS-kGBYedfm4GEJ7t4PfrLWdVhd8jTJF1zDMWwfQl_ULIjCCrvj5wopRmpa_EN2tMqKBU1lzZ_Lx6/s1600/oatmeal+raisin+cookies.tiff" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj1GAciKcgly9tN7Hao-BNwbqbSF5GOoQ8Uww8_BgypBeNEq0cPScqMtnqG-yCNdDCNS-kGBYedfm4GEJ7t4PfrLWdVhd8jTJF1zDMWwfQl_ULIjCCrvj5wopRmpa_EN2tMqKBU1lzZ_Lx6/s1600/oatmeal+raisin+cookies.tiff" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><i>raisin oatmeal cookies</i></td></tr>
</tbody></table>
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now click on my pinterest link...go on. all recipes are on my 'food' board. and they are worth it...so repin. repin and prepare for the yum's to ensue. your welcome.</div>
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<i><br /></i></div>
</div>nicolehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04046879253248834133noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7339955991135221139.post-65256599430085595102012-05-14T14:41:00.002-07:002012-05-14T14:41:49.526-07:00baby mama<div style="text-align: justify;">
im pregnant...hormones a flying pregnant. in the middle 'honeymoon' stage pregnant. baby no. 3. excited, yes. scared, yes. what have i done, yes. my two kids are beautiful, strong, healthy, active kids. i love them to death. but some days i feel like curling up in a ball and just crying...and some days i do. being a mom is hard. being a working mom is hard, being a stay at home mom is hard. i've done both...and i can't say which one is harder, but this stay at home mom stuff is not for wimps. i've grown so much, and i'm still learning. i came across this little blurb on pinterest. i have to share. i cried after reading this. and my son asked me if i was ok and gave me a big hug. that boy is the best. </div>
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Courier New', Courier, monospace;"><i>The summer of babies is upon us.</i></span></div>
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Courier New', Courier, monospace;"><i>I thought I’d start compiling a list – for me to revisit and read when I’m in sleep-deprived psychosis, flying off the handle at every little thing, weeping over the dirt on my floor, and telling the cat that I’m going to sell him because he’s such an obnoxious freak of nature.</i></span></div>
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Courier New', Courier, monospace;"><i>And for the other new moms out there who are at this very moment yelling at their pets and spouses, wondering if they will ever feel normal again.</i></span></div>
<div style="background-attachment: initial; background-clip: initial; background-color: transparent; background-image: initial; background-origin: initial; border-bottom-width: 0px; border-color: initial; border-left-width: 0px; border-right-width: 0px; border-style: initial; border-top-width: 0px; color: #333333; font-size: 14px; line-height: 21px; margin-bottom: 15px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px; outline-color: initial; outline-style: initial; outline-width: 0px; padding-bottom: 0px; padding-left: 0px; padding-right: 0px; padding-top: 0px; vertical-align: baseline;">
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Courier New', Courier, monospace;"><i>I’ll start with the very practical.</i></span></div>
<div style="background-attachment: initial; background-clip: initial; background-color: transparent; background-image: initial; background-origin: initial; border-bottom-width: 0px; border-color: initial; border-left-width: 0px; border-right-width: 0px; border-style: initial; border-top-width: 0px; color: #333333; font-size: 14px; line-height: 21px; margin-bottom: 15px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px; outline-color: initial; outline-style: initial; outline-width: 0px; padding-bottom: 0px; padding-left: 0px; padding-right: 0px; padding-top: 0px; vertical-align: baseline;">
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Courier New', Courier, monospace;"><i><strong style="background-attachment: initial; background-clip: initial; background-color: transparent; background-image: initial; background-origin: initial; background-position: initial initial; background-repeat: initial initial; border-bottom-width: 0px; border-color: initial; border-left-width: 0px; border-right-width: 0px; border-style: initial; border-top-width: 0px; font-size: 14px; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px; outline-color: initial; outline-style: initial; outline-width: 0px; padding-bottom: 0px; padding-left: 0px; padding-right: 0px; padding-top: 0px; vertical-align: baseline;">1. Don’t be quiet when the baby is sleeping.</strong> Do not tiptoe or whisper or do anything equally stupid. Train that little bug to sleep through ANYTHING. Live your life at normal volume – vacuum, watch TV, talk on the phone, open and close doors. Just keep living.</i></span></div>
<div style="background-attachment: initial; background-clip: initial; background-color: transparent; background-image: initial; background-origin: initial; border-bottom-width: 0px; border-color: initial; border-left-width: 0px; border-right-width: 0px; border-style: initial; border-top-width: 0px; color: #333333; font-size: 14px; line-height: 21px; margin-bottom: 15px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px; outline-color: initial; outline-style: initial; outline-width: 0px; padding-bottom: 0px; padding-left: 0px; padding-right: 0px; padding-top: 0px; vertical-align: baseline;">
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Courier New', Courier, monospace;"><i><strong style="background-attachment: initial; background-clip: initial; background-color: transparent; background-image: initial; background-origin: initial; background-position: initial initial; background-repeat: initial initial; border-bottom-width: 0px; border-color: initial; border-left-width: 0px; border-right-width: 0px; border-style: initial; border-top-width: 0px; font-size: 14px; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px; outline-color: initial; outline-style: initial; outline-width: 0px; padding-bottom: 0px; padding-left: 0px; padding-right: 0px; padding-top: 0px; vertical-align: baseline;">2. Don’t “save” the cute clothes. </strong> They grow so fast. Put them in your favorite outfit as often as you can – because before you know it you’ll be an weepy mess, sniffling as you put it in the attic, regretting every time you “saved it” and went with something that was “okay to get dirty.”</i></span></div>
<div style="background-attachment: initial; background-clip: initial; background-color: transparent; background-image: initial; background-origin: initial; border-bottom-width: 0px; border-color: initial; border-left-width: 0px; border-right-width: 0px; border-style: initial; border-top-width: 0px; color: #333333; font-size: 14px; line-height: 21px; margin-bottom: 15px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px; outline-color: initial; outline-style: initial; outline-width: 0px; padding-bottom: 0px; padding-left: 0px; padding-right: 0px; padding-top: 0px; vertical-align: baseline;">
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Courier New', Courier, monospace;"><i><strong style="background-attachment: initial; background-clip: initial; background-color: transparent; background-image: initial; background-origin: initial; background-position: initial initial; background-repeat: initial initial; border-bottom-width: 0px; border-color: initial; border-left-width: 0px; border-right-width: 0px; border-style: initial; border-top-width: 0px; font-size: 14px; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px; outline-color: initial; outline-style: initial; outline-width: 0px; padding-bottom: 0px; padding-left: 0px; padding-right: 0px; padding-top: 0px; vertical-align: baseline;">3. When your brand new little one starts crying in the grocery store </strong>(or in church, or at a funeral),<strong style="background-attachment: initial; background-clip: initial; background-color: transparent; background-image: initial; background-origin: initial; background-position: initial initial; background-repeat: initial initial; border-bottom-width: 0px; border-color: initial; border-left-width: 0px; border-right-width: 0px; border-style: initial; border-top-width: 0px; font-size: 14px; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px; outline-color: initial; outline-style: initial; outline-width: 0px; padding-bottom: 0px; padding-left: 0px; padding-right: 0px; padding-top: 0px; vertical-align: baseline;"> don’t worry. It’s not nearly as loud as you think.</strong> You will be so worried about being “that mom” with the screaming kid that you’ll get stressed and sweaty over what sounds like, to everyone else, an innocent, raspy little newborn cry. Wait ’til they’re 2. <span style="background-attachment: initial; background-clip: initial; background-color: transparent; background-image: initial; background-origin: initial; background-position: initial initial; background-repeat: initial initial; border-bottom-width: 0px; border-color: initial; border-left-width: 0px; border-right-width: 0px; border-style: initial; border-top-width: 0px; font-size: 14px; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px; outline-color: initial; outline-style: initial; outline-width: 0px; padding-bottom: 0px; padding-left: 0px; padding-right: 0px; padding-top: 0px; vertical-align: baseline;">Then </span>they are as loud as you think.</i></span></div>
<div style="background-attachment: initial; background-clip: initial; background-color: transparent; background-image: initial; background-origin: initial; border-bottom-width: 0px; border-color: initial; border-left-width: 0px; border-right-width: 0px; border-style: initial; border-top-width: 0px; color: #333333; font-size: 14px; line-height: 21px; margin-bottom: 15px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px; outline-color: initial; outline-style: initial; outline-width: 0px; padding-bottom: 0px; padding-left: 0px; padding-right: 0px; padding-top: 0px; vertical-align: baseline;">
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Courier New', Courier, monospace;"><i><strong style="background-attachment: initial; background-clip: initial; background-color: transparent; background-image: initial; background-origin: initial; background-position: initial initial; background-repeat: initial initial; border-bottom-width: 0px; border-color: initial; border-left-width: 0px; border-right-width: 0px; border-style: initial; border-top-width: 0px; font-size: 14px; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px; outline-color: initial; outline-style: initial; outline-width: 0px; padding-bottom: 0px; padding-left: 0px; padding-right: 0px; padding-top: 0px; vertical-align: baseline;">4. It is much easier to take the whole mattress out of the crib to put new sheets on it</strong> – then just plop it back in. You’ll break a sweat, pull six muscles, and curse trying to cram your hands between the mattress and the crib slats.</i></span></div>
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Courier New', Courier, monospace;"><i><strong style="background-attachment: initial; background-clip: initial; background-color: transparent; background-image: initial; background-origin: initial; background-position: initial initial; background-repeat: initial initial; border-bottom-width: 0px; border-color: initial; border-left-width: 0px; border-right-width: 0px; border-style: initial; border-top-width: 0px; font-size: 14px; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px; outline-color: initial; outline-style: initial; outline-width: 0px; padding-bottom: 0px; padding-left: 0px; padding-right: 0px; padding-top: 0px; vertical-align: baseline;">5. Your body has done a nearly impossible thing – give it some grace.</strong> It might not ever look like it did when you were 19 (a moment of silence, please), but it grew, accomodated, nurtured, and birthed another human being. Anatomically, it’s staggering and nothing short of miraculous. So rest assured, soft is beautiful. Motherhood is beautiful. Your body stepped up to the plate and did the <span style="background-attachment: initial; background-clip: initial; background-color: transparent; background-image: initial; background-origin: initial; background-position: initial initial; background-repeat: initial initial; border-bottom-width: 0px; border-color: initial; border-left-width: 0px; border-right-width: 0px; border-style: initial; border-top-width: 0px; font-size: 14px; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px; outline-color: initial; outline-style: initial; outline-width: 0px; padding-bottom: 0px; padding-left: 0px; padding-right: 0px; padding-top: 0px; vertical-align: baseline;">most important thing </span>when it mattered. Give your body some grace. (And with some hard work and a year or so’s time, you <span style="background-attachment: initial; background-clip: initial; background-color: transparent; background-image: initial; background-origin: initial; background-position: initial initial; background-repeat: initial initial; border-bottom-width: 0px; border-color: initial; border-left-width: 0px; border-right-width: 0px; border-style: initial; border-top-width: 0px; font-size: 14px; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px; outline-color: initial; outline-style: initial; outline-width: 0px; padding-bottom: 0px; padding-left: 0px; padding-right: 0px; padding-top: 0px; vertical-align: baseline;">can </span>get back to a slightly softer version of normal – new normal.)</i></span></div>
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Courier New', Courier, monospace;"><i><strong style="background-attachment: initial; background-clip: initial; background-color: transparent; background-image: initial; background-origin: initial; background-position: initial initial; background-repeat: initial initial; border-bottom-width: 0px; border-color: initial; border-left-width: 0px; border-right-width: 0px; border-style: initial; border-top-width: 0px; font-size: 14px; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px; outline-color: initial; outline-style: initial; outline-width: 0px; padding-bottom: 0px; padding-left: 0px; padding-right: 0px; padding-top: 0px; vertical-align: baseline;">6.</strong> A long time ago, I was visiting with my Grandma Harness and we were watching my cousin Daniel. He was just a tiny infant at the time and throwing quite a fit. After patiently changing him, feeding him, swaddling him, burping him, and singing to him, he was still in a tizzy. Grandma laid him lovingly in his bouncer, looked at me and said, “Isn’t he so adorable?” I looked at screamy, red-faced Daniel and just laughed nervously, to which Grandma replied,</i></span></div>
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<strong style="background-attachment: initial; background-clip: initial; background-color: transparent; background-image: initial; background-origin: initial; background-position: initial initial; background-repeat: initial initial; border-bottom-width: 0px; border-color: initial; border-left-width: 0px; border-right-width: 0px; border-style: initial; border-top-width: 0px; font-size: 16px; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px; outline-color: initial; outline-style: initial; outline-width: 0px; padding-bottom: 0px; padding-left: 0px; padding-right: 0px; padding-top: 0px; vertical-align: baseline;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Courier New', Courier, monospace;"><i>“You know, Kate, sometimes babies just cry.” </i></span></strong></div>
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Courier New', Courier, monospace;"><i>This from a nurse, and a woman who raised five healthy, happy, successful children (incidentally baby Daniel was my aunt’s fifth child, too). My gentle Grandma’s words helped me so many times to look at Madeline affectionately instead of desperately, lovingly instead of angrily.</i></span></div>
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Courier New', Courier, monospace;"><i><strong style="background-attachment: initial; background-clip: initial; background-color: transparent; background-image: initial; background-origin: initial; background-position: initial initial; background-repeat: initial initial; border-bottom-width: 0px; border-color: initial; border-left-width: 0px; border-right-width: 0px; border-style: initial; border-top-width: 0px; font-size: 14px; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px; outline-color: initial; outline-style: initial; outline-width: 0px; padding-bottom: 0px; padding-left: 0px; padding-right: 0px; padding-top: 0px; vertical-align: baseline;">7.</strong> I overheard my mother encouraging a tired new mom, and I never forgot, “Don’t waste a minute worrying about whether or not you’re ‘doing it wrong.’ You can’t. However you hold him is “how mom holds him.” Your baby knows your method of doing things. You cannot change him wrong or soothe him wrong. <strong style="background-attachment: initial; background-clip: initial; background-color: transparent; background-image: initial; background-origin: initial; background-position: initial initial; background-repeat: initial initial; border-bottom-width: 0px; border-color: initial; border-left-width: 0px; border-right-width: 0px; border-style: initial; border-top-width: 0px; font-size: 14px; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px; outline-color: initial; outline-style: initial; outline-width: 0px; padding-bottom: 0px; padding-left: 0px; padding-right: 0px; padding-top: 0px; vertical-align: baseline;">The ultimate comfort is mommy – and you’re it.”</strong></i></span></div>
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Courier New', Courier, monospace;"><i><strong style="background-attachment: initial; background-clip: initial; background-color: transparent; background-image: initial; background-origin: initial; background-position: initial initial; background-repeat: initial initial; border-bottom-width: 0px; border-color: initial; border-left-width: 0px; border-right-width: 0px; border-style: initial; border-top-width: 0px; font-size: 14px; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px; outline-color: initial; outline-style: initial; outline-width: 0px; padding-bottom: 0px; padding-left: 0px; padding-right: 0px; padding-top: 0px; vertical-align: baseline;">8. Don’t let anyone lead you to believe that motherhood is easy</strong>, that infants are easy. That is BULL. HOCKEY. There will be moms of elementary school kids, perpetually irritated moms of apathetic teenagers, and sweet elderly ladies that will coo over your baby and say things like, <span style="background-attachment: initial; background-clip: initial; background-color: transparent; background-image: initial; background-origin: initial; background-position: initial initial; background-repeat: initial initial; border-bottom-width: 0px; border-color: initial; border-left-width: 0px; border-right-width: 0px; border-style: initial; border-top-width: 0px; font-size: 14px; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px; outline-color: initial; outline-style: initial; outline-width: 0px; padding-bottom: 0px; padding-left: 0px; padding-right: 0px; padding-top: 0px; vertical-align: baseline;">“I remember when mine were that little.” “Enjoy it while it lasts.” “I wish I could go back.” </span></i></span></div>
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Courier New', Courier, monospace;"><i>It is all very sweet – but they only say it because they’ve forgotten what it feels like to sleep in 40-minute-intervals for 6 months. Women who look at two-year-olds and sigh dreamily have TOTALLY forgotten what it’s like to live with a two-year-old 24 hours a day.</i></span></div>
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Courier New', Courier, monospace;"><i>There are mommy bloggers out there who write enthusiastic, chipper posts about cloth diapering and the magic of breastfeeding, and they are all liars – at least liars by omission. Breastfeeding <span style="background-attachment: initial; background-clip: initial; background-color: transparent; background-image: initial; background-origin: initial; background-position: initial initial; background-repeat: initial initial; border-bottom-width: 0px; border-color: initial; border-left-width: 0px; border-right-width: 0px; border-style: initial; border-top-width: 0px; font-size: 14px; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px; outline-color: initial; outline-style: initial; outline-width: 0px; padding-bottom: 0px; padding-left: 0px; padding-right: 0px; padding-top: 0px; vertical-align: baseline;">is </span>magical, but it ain’t for sissies. It hurts like the dickens for a while, it’s exhausting, it’s <span style="background-attachment: initial; background-clip: initial; background-color: transparent; background-image: initial; background-origin: initial; background-position: initial initial; background-repeat: initial initial; border-bottom-width: 0px; border-color: initial; border-left-width: 0px; border-right-width: 0px; border-style: initial; border-top-width: 0px; font-size: 14px; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px; outline-color: initial; outline-style: initial; outline-width: 0px; padding-bottom: 0px; padding-left: 0px; padding-right: 0px; padding-top: 0px; vertical-align: baseline;">enormously </span>inconvenient. You will hear people say that babies are blessings, a heritage from the Lord. While this is absolutely true, don’t for ONE SECOND think that you’re a terrible person for wanting to set your “blessing” out on the front porch for the night because he just. won’t. stop. crying. Don’t let the glowing mothers psych you out. Know that they, too, are just trying to put their best foot forward. They’re trying to encourage you – give you some perspective and some hope. But let’s be straight for two seconds: Motherhood is the most precious, wonderful thing I’ve done with my life to date. It’s also the hardest.</i></span></div>
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Courier New', Courier, monospace;"><i><strong style="background-attachment: initial; background-clip: initial; background-color: transparent; background-image: initial; background-origin: initial; background-position: initial initial; background-repeat: initial initial; border-bottom-width: 0px; border-color: initial; border-left-width: 0px; border-right-width: 0px; border-style: initial; border-top-width: 0px; font-size: 14px; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px; outline-color: initial; outline-style: initial; outline-width: 0px; padding-bottom: 0px; padding-left: 0px; padding-right: 0px; padding-top: 0px; vertical-align: baseline;">9. Advocate for your baby.</strong> Just like before you were a mom, you will be obligated to attend work, school, church, and social functions. You will have people counting on you to be somewhere, like a wedding or a funeral or some other once-in-a-lifetime thing. And there WILL BE times when these expectations clash with the needs of your baby. Trying to find an achievable balance feels treacherous, and like a lose-lose situation. You either disappoint people you care about, miss out on special occasions, risk being misunderstood and possibly whispered about – or you suffer the agony of knowing you didn’t do what was best for your baby.</i></span></div>
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Courier New', Courier, monospace;"><i>I remember the tightrope feeling well, as Madeline was born just before Christmas. Relatives whom we wouldn’t see again for a full year “needed” to hold her. I “needed” to be at a variety of church, community, and family functions. I remember Madeline being passed around the room from one adoring person to the next – and when she started to cry, each person would take a turn trying to comfort her. I only got a turn when Madeline was SO worked up and miserable that she’d become totally inconsoleable – then it was time to pass her to mom. I remember sitting in a back bedroom with my hot, over-stimulated newborn, nursing her and whispering to her that I was so, so sorry. That it wasn’t fair – that it was simply too much and I didn’t speak up for her. I’ve been bummed about missing the occasional wedding or party, but that’s the kind of thing you bounce back from pretty quickly – c’est la vie. I’ve deeply regretted it, on the other hand, <span style="background-attachment: initial; background-clip: initial; background-color: transparent; background-image: initial; background-origin: initial; background-position: initial initial; background-repeat: initial initial; border-bottom-width: 0px; border-color: initial; border-left-width: 0px; border-right-width: 0px; border-style: initial; border-top-width: 0px; font-size: 14px; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px; outline-color: initial; outline-style: initial; outline-width: 0px; padding-bottom: 0px; padding-left: 0px; padding-right: 0px; padding-top: 0px; vertical-align: baseline;">every time </span>I didn’t advocate for my baby.</i></span></div>
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Courier New', Courier, monospace;"><i>I’m not saying be a shrew and hole yourself up in your house until your kid is 6 – but you’ll know when it’s too much. You’ll know because you’ll feel like you’re about to die. You will know when being home in your baby’s safe, familiar place is more important than anything else going on that day. Your baby cannot speak up for herself – so you must advocate for her. <span style="background-attachment: initial; background-clip: initial; background-color: transparent; background-image: initial; background-origin: initial; background-position: initial initial; background-repeat: initial initial; border-bottom-width: 0px; border-color: initial; border-left-width: 0px; border-right-width: 0px; border-style: initial; border-top-width: 0px; font-size: 14px; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px; outline-color: initial; outline-style: initial; outline-width: 0px; padding-bottom: 0px; padding-left: 0px; padding-right: 0px; padding-top: 0px; vertical-align: baseline;"> It’s okay to look all the expectations and obligations, disappointment and disapproval in the face and say, “No. We need to go home now.”</span></i></span></div>
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Courier New', Courier, monospace;"><i><strong style="background-attachment: initial; background-clip: initial; background-color: transparent; background-image: initial; background-origin: initial; background-position: initial initial; background-repeat: initial initial; border-bottom-width: 0px; border-color: initial; border-left-width: 0px; border-right-width: 0px; border-style: initial; border-top-width: 0px; font-size: 14px; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px; outline-color: initial; outline-style: initial; outline-width: 0px; padding-bottom: 0px; padding-left: 0px; padding-right: 0px; padding-top: 0px; vertical-align: baseline;">10. And finally, rest assured that every other mother’s house has been as dirty as yours is, probably worse.</strong> I’ve recited the last stanza of a poem called “Song for a Fifth Child” by Ruth Hulbert Hamilton to myself a thousand times. It calms down my racing mind long enough to make me sit still – and be fully present for my daughter.</i></span></div>
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Courier New', Courier, monospace;"><i><span style="background-attachment: initial; background-clip: initial; background-color: transparent; background-image: initial; background-origin: initial; background-position: initial initial; background-repeat: initial initial; border-bottom-width: 0px; border-color: initial; border-left-width: 0px; border-right-width: 0px; border-style: initial; border-top-width: 0px; font-size: 14px; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px; outline-color: initial; outline-style: initial; outline-width: 0px; padding-bottom: 0px; padding-left: 0px; padding-right: 0px; padding-top: 0px; vertical-align: baseline;">…The cleaning and scrubbing will wait till tomorrow,</span><br /><span style="background-attachment: initial; background-clip: initial; background-color: transparent; background-image: initial; background-origin: initial; background-position: initial initial; background-repeat: initial initial; border-bottom-width: 0px; border-color: initial; border-left-width: 0px; border-right-width: 0px; border-style: initial; border-top-width: 0px; font-size: 14px; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px; outline-color: initial; outline-style: initial; outline-width: 0px; padding-bottom: 0px; padding-left: 0px; padding-right: 0px; padding-top: 0px; vertical-align: baseline;">For children grow up, I’ve learned to my sorrow.</span><br /><span style="background-attachment: initial; background-clip: initial; background-color: transparent; background-image: initial; background-origin: initial; background-position: initial initial; background-repeat: initial initial; border-bottom-width: 0px; border-color: initial; border-left-width: 0px; border-right-width: 0px; border-style: initial; border-top-width: 0px; font-size: 14px; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px; outline-color: initial; outline-style: initial; outline-width: 0px; padding-bottom: 0px; padding-left: 0px; padding-right: 0px; padding-top: 0px; vertical-align: baseline;">So quiet down, cobwebs. Dust go to sleep.</span><br /><span style="background-attachment: initial; background-clip: initial; background-color: transparent; background-image: initial; background-origin: initial; background-position: initial initial; background-repeat: initial initial; border-bottom-width: 0px; border-color: initial; border-left-width: 0px; border-right-width: 0px; border-style: initial; border-top-width: 0px; font-size: 14px; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px; outline-color: initial; outline-style: initial; outline-width: 0px; padding-bottom: 0px; padding-left: 0px; padding-right: 0px; padding-top: 0px; vertical-align: baseline;">I’m rocking my baby and babies don’t keep.</span></i></span></div>
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Courier New', Courier, monospace;"><i> </i></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Courier New', Courier, monospace;"><i>And that’s all I got. Except for pray a lot and take all the help you can get.</i></span></div>
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #a2c4c9; font-family: inherit;"><a href="http://kateelizabethconner.com/">http://kateelizabethconner.com/</a></span></div>nicolehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04046879253248834133noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7339955991135221139.post-59194049181965454902012-05-08T14:42:00.001-07:002012-05-08T14:44:02.151-07:00four<div style="text-align: justify;">
holy crud....it's been almost a year since my last post. honestly i was going to wait til june to post...and then try to be a little more regular, but i thought, what the heck, i'll post something today. </div>
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today, may 8th, is my little man's birthday. he is four. four! i can remember the day he was born, all the goings on...the pushing! the moment i held his little body in my arms for the first time, and all the days following. peaceful days of falling asleep with him on my chest. now he is four, and a little man. he says the funniest things. where did you learn that? shrug of shoulders and roll of eyes. he is intuitive, funny, creative, sweet, and a good boy. i really lucked out with this one. he drives me nuts sometimes. but always redeems himself with some comment that makes me think he has a lot of wit for a little guy. and he cuddles. loves to cuddle. i hope that lasts. my little dude is four....</div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhXHk7YmYMNkcYmoFjzW4TVR7qWBt2byGZMJzikyicPq7S7aDi4GSnIAPC-6M16EOWnYBiLReWpbAK-91vdvHpB1qbNqSz8dHzDMKK44cEvubUY27a_wmeDTNnT4Axb7apGz7rsFOxV-3gk/s1600/IMG_2873.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhXHk7YmYMNkcYmoFjzW4TVR7qWBt2byGZMJzikyicPq7S7aDi4GSnIAPC-6M16EOWnYBiLReWpbAK-91vdvHpB1qbNqSz8dHzDMKK44cEvubUY27a_wmeDTNnT4Axb7apGz7rsFOxV-3gk/s320/IMG_2873.JPG" width="240" /></a><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjjH6RCLUOfYz0ViQjIOcH5QJu1quQx-lLjIwIAHc3fSjWU9mYmTXEIPXbScE1csBpbgk3DEU48wPmnIq0AOcdJZv2Q-WX-NFIXnnGoUhqRab1E7FKU5TeGuqbmEi2CIjo4fBcJx7Th4sV7/s1600/IMG_2729.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjjH6RCLUOfYz0ViQjIOcH5QJu1quQx-lLjIwIAHc3fSjWU9mYmTXEIPXbScE1csBpbgk3DEU48wPmnIq0AOcdJZv2Q-WX-NFIXnnGoUhqRab1E7FKU5TeGuqbmEi2CIjo4fBcJx7Th4sV7/s320/IMG_2729.JPG" width="240" /></a></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEixyiaiefeVP5O0AxEsjYo72jgZk7n2uBKDBz8Zpek6PeVBvbycmx5HyFvpnzlade72s7dOBTO6WGBsKzJp07CIlzktbi1nn1L_S3d1zpsPuFOF3qDW8froRC5g6sMMcZWUxHzcoNnPCmf6/s1600/IMG_2974.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEixyiaiefeVP5O0AxEsjYo72jgZk7n2uBKDBz8Zpek6PeVBvbycmx5HyFvpnzlade72s7dOBTO6WGBsKzJp07CIlzktbi1nn1L_S3d1zpsPuFOF3qDW8froRC5g6sMMcZWUxHzcoNnPCmf6/s640/IMG_2974.JPG" width="480" /></a></div>
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<br /></div>nicolehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04046879253248834133noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7339955991135221139.post-25581654002356785602011-06-17T11:31:00.000-07:002011-06-17T11:31:05.931-07:00one + one = 9 years<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjYHWAzrxf4Vn8s_VV5Bi_mXN-5Wl3FOSDyCZb0wfxTyag7n_wYGVlrntrkPElTsxZA-oQV7xGC7r6oFk0nSogpxx6RbYYmkmC78wkO0GclLdG5Y0wEsvrMDzxSv1qYkNLxyYaJ801GCuWH/s1600/wedding+pic.bmp" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" i$="true" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjYHWAzrxf4Vn8s_VV5Bi_mXN-5Wl3FOSDyCZb0wfxTyag7n_wYGVlrntrkPElTsxZA-oQV7xGC7r6oFk0nSogpxx6RbYYmkmC78wkO0GclLdG5Y0wEsvrMDzxSv1qYkNLxyYaJ801GCuWH/s1600/wedding+pic.bmp" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"></div><div align="center">this was us then</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg0W7xxcUswEa22469SRwMRG7TQAgz7yiF4VaP5CzPEfccnXpmhJ_rcVrEyKlIDTvGTeJ-tUfGlsoArlXenq7r_tVN0PeVBAPTJ38hZekwK-seRIBIzjc2m-uu3FZrrzGZ1Rerp_CVzAor5/s1600/t+and+me.bmp" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" i$="true" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg0W7xxcUswEa22469SRwMRG7TQAgz7yiF4VaP5CzPEfccnXpmhJ_rcVrEyKlIDTvGTeJ-tUfGlsoArlXenq7r_tVN0PeVBAPTJ38hZekwK-seRIBIzjc2m-uu3FZrrzGZ1Rerp_CVzAor5/s1600/t+and+me.bmp" /></a></div><div align="center">this is us now</div><div align="center"><br />
</div><div align="center">nine years later...</div><div align="center">still passionate about eachother</div><div align="center">still playing footsies when we go to bed</div><div align="center">still butterflies when we kiss</div><div align="center"><br />
</div><div align="center">even better then when we started i'd say</div><div align="center"><br />
</div><div align="left">from me to you {enjoy}</div>nicolehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04046879253248834133noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7339955991135221139.post-68497080942292112792011-06-04T23:43:00.000-07:002011-06-04T23:53:02.919-07:00and the girl turned 1<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjiHm6ShA07QtwD-JHjnxWszRanUiuyTmgkBVveYTpKCnrazkPYkC_Yc6NkxDOz7g13tbUsvN1DuWMJq-DHq9-BBcOb4N7OMQhbZNe6EIjX_kh1IDkK2dwlNURpkpDzYVUBVfZK_woPCg36/s1600/nevan.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjiHm6ShA07QtwD-JHjnxWszRanUiuyTmgkBVveYTpKCnrazkPYkC_Yc6NkxDOz7g13tbUsvN1DuWMJq-DHq9-BBcOb4N7OMQhbZNe6EIjX_kh1IDkK2dwlNURpkpDzYVUBVfZK_woPCg36/s1600/nevan.JPG" t8="true" /></a></div><div align="center"><br />
little miss sassy pants nevan turned 1...a cupcake party was to be had</div><div align="center">there were cupcake invitations delivered</div><div align="center">there were cupcake goodie boxes to be made <a href="http://www.sewcraftcreate.com/2011/04/cupcake-giftboxes.html"><span style="color: #999999;">{found here}</span></a><span style="color: #999999;"></span></div><div align="center"><span style="color: #444444;">there were banners to be hung</span><br />
there were handmade rosette headbands and pretty bracelets to be given</div><div align="center">there was food and cupcakes to be eaten</div><div align="center">and there was one little candle to be wished upon</div><div align="center"><br />
</div><div align="center">what i want her to know:<br />
* i love her more than anything<br />
* i love that she is a mama's girl {even though it drives me nuts sometimes}<br />
* i love her cheesy grin and her sassy 'tude<br />
* i am so grateful i had a girl {even though i was nervous to have one}<br />
* i will always love her no matter what</div><div align="center"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgCLCV-uKFwq6SKUNxNCneCkc4swQxbQOMLnETmYHVvCa5gKym7-ZDn0Sx38l0DR4d2cjvmX9Iu7gim3xMqiKXg1VKeuEBOPq4NM1Xu0hRmbmwfl4kVvTKnLHbpcxQM-juMI-rbOgg-DpMt/s1600/n+banner.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgCLCV-uKFwq6SKUNxNCneCkc4swQxbQOMLnETmYHVvCa5gKym7-ZDn0Sx38l0DR4d2cjvmX9Iu7gim3xMqiKXg1VKeuEBOPq4NM1Xu0hRmbmwfl4kVvTKnLHbpcxQM-juMI-rbOgg-DpMt/s1600/n+banner.JPG" t8="true" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiO5fDZY0Ay4tEtkGfT47Izy_fixq_jfyt7fe4ZwAejYyeHUHuOP8XOB5B_tDeEv3tAiqzsn8BovhdttGKKCv549AHnScz7D1xgB1ZtLjZdVRoEWPP5URqw-kYNGI71_8snMFFCfyihMPuW/s1600/goodie+bags.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiO5fDZY0Ay4tEtkGfT47Izy_fixq_jfyt7fe4ZwAejYyeHUHuOP8XOB5B_tDeEv3tAiqzsn8BovhdttGKKCv549AHnScz7D1xgB1ZtLjZdVRoEWPP5URqw-kYNGI71_8snMFFCfyihMPuW/s1600/goodie+bags.JPG" t8="true" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiTpCZaoFBv_-lRa3kdkzHVpa_EJok9hJUjP5-uNDHLT8zfxgZW6pjGDzyVk5aBYPeAEDHihQHAXWGZ7dgDNCp0F8VNRcMgTJF-7Kn5knxxlJbALXbKSzm7nAuwt1LPJxH8xU475JKHVM6I/s1600/1st.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiTpCZaoFBv_-lRa3kdkzHVpa_EJok9hJUjP5-uNDHLT8zfxgZW6pjGDzyVk5aBYPeAEDHihQHAXWGZ7dgDNCp0F8VNRcMgTJF-7Kn5knxxlJbALXbKSzm7nAuwt1LPJxH8xU475JKHVM6I/s1600/1st.JPG" t8="true" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhZH5Zxz46wd49FKrDsVcQetd-nbbkDPOexLJ_jXsaanRGCfy1rew70mXOU6Y_XZfPoon28FBfU34f0U2eHE2fVAIlN6p1dbEy2bk4yN_HLmL0vm46beMzzKzr5nPwz4VOkwDRF1_9ygqeJ/s1600/cupcakes.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhZH5Zxz46wd49FKrDsVcQetd-nbbkDPOexLJ_jXsaanRGCfy1rew70mXOU6Y_XZfPoon28FBfU34f0U2eHE2fVAIlN6p1dbEy2bk4yN_HLmL0vm46beMzzKzr5nPwz4VOkwDRF1_9ygqeJ/s1600/cupcakes.JPG" t8="true" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhwhY2IfdVab2DNVWdQMr_Hxk5Kr7GLJ4xrNdg2ESxIhf1yFJtsHckcKM_HkpUe4DNiRXfhTP2IM3dVR5KtNuW8JNmoEgqgkcih2jhyphenhyphenDcIt6DIvgmYjzUK9106zLUuo5-FvV4YAR4HGHwQd/s1600/1+candle.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhwhY2IfdVab2DNVWdQMr_Hxk5Kr7GLJ4xrNdg2ESxIhf1yFJtsHckcKM_HkpUe4DNiRXfhTP2IM3dVR5KtNuW8JNmoEgqgkcih2jhyphenhyphenDcIt6DIvgmYjzUK9106zLUuo5-FvV4YAR4HGHwQd/s1600/1+candle.JPG" t8="true" /></a></div><div style="text-align: left;">from me to you {enjoy}</div>nicolehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04046879253248834133noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7339955991135221139.post-1358911449356938032011-05-13T20:53:00.000-07:002011-05-15T19:47:05.976-07:00the boy turned 3 <table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj767_YIFf9CK5GgVMBOWjFBIivf3XBhe0tvznoolScjixQdNjer_-Gaot1AlrKfd6eOUgrsFjtQgzwirs9hRCo5Q26fBwV7XixAOra6vtcGDeuh_W2i8gadewaMXS7PLlBWQFgl2RKHQs4/s1600/tegon+blowing+candle.bmp" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" j8="true" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj767_YIFf9CK5GgVMBOWjFBIivf3XBhe0tvznoolScjixQdNjer_-Gaot1AlrKfd6eOUgrsFjtQgzwirs9hRCo5Q26fBwV7XixAOra6vtcGDeuh_W2i8gadewaMXS7PLlBWQFgl2RKHQs4/s1600/tegon+blowing+candle.bmp" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"></td></tr>
</tbody></table> <div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">sweet boy tegon turned 3...a superhero party was to be had</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">there were superhero invitations delived by tegon </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">there were capes and masks to be made</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">there was kyptonite to be found</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">there were handmade superhero goodie bags to be awarded </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">there were hamburgers and cupcakes to be eaten</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">there were presents to be opened</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">there were smiles to be had and memories to be made</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">{and next year mama takes a break and we go to the zoo}</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">what i want him to know:</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">* i love him more than anything </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">* i love it when he gives me big hugs and a gentle kiss and tells me he loves me</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">* i am so grateful he was my first </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">* i love his concern when i get hurt</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">* i will always love him no matter what</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/AVvXsEjwyOjhJ1fr-AdFiiqX0-7Z1Eqrq50NYWIPaWMcRBBo2IWxmoVz3B0elPF_0OokRA64bjU26PFsujK1S2J-obq1PZ4Tc7rJ9GO-nX298cKevRktH-yKmmd4LYZNiegzTD9lBMtANdelms0L/s1600/keira+and+tegon.bmp" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" j8="true" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjwyOjhJ1fr-AdFiiqX0-7Z1Eqrq50NYWIPaWMcRBBo2IWxmoVz3B0elPF_0OokRA64bjU26PFsujK1S2J-obq1PZ4Tc7rJ9GO-nX298cKevRktH-yKmmd4LYZNiegzTD9lBMtANdelms0L/s1600/keira+and+tegon.bmp" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgi77LU_qQbO-jlaLSMUK-nyCBih7PmolT4CmZgQZxUhtszVowPhdWCGO-sCzzQ2sXdQ4ncMjSah_95hkT7nYP8Au-Z_3p8dt6nJ6C2z8Z6Px5Cozlc7xtk8-BIH6D-vE85ifCx3-p2f7WO/s1600/cupcakes.bmp" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" j8="true" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgi77LU_qQbO-jlaLSMUK-nyCBih7PmolT4CmZgQZxUhtszVowPhdWCGO-sCzzQ2sXdQ4ncMjSah_95hkT7nYP8Au-Z_3p8dt6nJ6C2z8Z6Px5Cozlc7xtk8-BIH6D-vE85ifCx3-p2f7WO/s1600/cupcakes.bmp" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg2HF8x4gFl1MO4yTxG6rTVu5CGAz1tpHsdJxuFzDWRz_sXpk8ucZ3VB60YBzFVZRgYCnzyUOffnS3W4Zgfoonwz0HofSS4tbO97kNc9LhsDfb8IScJSwYOLU7ZeEtxGkawi5q8jxB1a3-5/s1600/kryptonite.bmp" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" j8="true" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg2HF8x4gFl1MO4yTxG6rTVu5CGAz1tpHsdJxuFzDWRz_sXpk8ucZ3VB60YBzFVZRgYCnzyUOffnS3W4Zgfoonwz0HofSS4tbO97kNc9LhsDfb8IScJSwYOLU7ZeEtxGkawi5q8jxB1a3-5/s1600/kryptonite.bmp" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgUrm3oCJdEG-Njb9MC5hzHDI8RguZTR-K8gzq5XAMNHY3hbEueahujlLmm3NF5rVDJUC_GP8mfUP-heagybPZ565BgdvzaFtO5WOSMzkf1kxdCa4MgdNaLKXQKMINSR4o9_Xydi0TD4tb2/s1600/candy+jars.bmp" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" j8="true" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgUrm3oCJdEG-Njb9MC5hzHDI8RguZTR-K8gzq5XAMNHY3hbEueahujlLmm3NF5rVDJUC_GP8mfUP-heagybPZ565BgdvzaFtO5WOSMzkf1kxdCa4MgdNaLKXQKMINSR4o9_Xydi0TD4tb2/s1600/candy+jars.bmp" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgoxn-DDz9AwwN5aeqf-qsAEwWEoOoQ_uXbAshwn-XbPK3M8oqw0oT9YsYCmc63uvCzzmIP0XlOT8I3Dq5A_qVv5slgER_RAbYXk1Xb9gpBbQ4eulzv7YqfppPwbTOb2r7Ip4JkA4BlstZo/s1600/athen+and+tegon.bmp" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" j8="true" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgoxn-DDz9AwwN5aeqf-qsAEwWEoOoQ_uXbAshwn-XbPK3M8oqw0oT9YsYCmc63uvCzzmIP0XlOT8I3Dq5A_qVv5slgER_RAbYXk1Xb9gpBbQ4eulzv7YqfppPwbTOb2r7Ip4JkA4BlstZo/s1600/athen+and+tegon.bmp" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">from me to you {enjoy}</div>nicolehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04046879253248834133noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7339955991135221139.post-31973025932756180182011-04-22T15:25:00.000-07:002011-05-13T20:56:38.982-07:00quiet moments<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh3kcz6OPRXwqApt9GlF1xab0-2GReYTQdfmKbTGlFTQNxVvNPvOJgwO6Xghy1z3wWdOFbM4IqJ3CscUtMSovgA9jQnYrQCHa0pInhr9GrxzzzPEI64Tm0eMlrsFn5Qi4P3sl7QWDA45haE/s1600/spring.bmp" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" i8="true" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh3kcz6OPRXwqApt9GlF1xab0-2GReYTQdfmKbTGlFTQNxVvNPvOJgwO6Xghy1z3wWdOFbM4IqJ3CscUtMSovgA9jQnYrQCHa0pInhr9GrxzzzPEI64Tm0eMlrsFn5Qi4P3sl7QWDA45haE/s1600/spring.bmp" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">{the sunshine begged us to come out and play...so we met it in our backyard} </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: justify;">We watch a lot of Disney movies in our home...and frequently. 'Up' being our movie of choice today. I listened to Russell tell Carl about eating ice cream with his dad on the curb in front of Fenton's counting the red and blue cars as they drove by..."That might sound boring, but I think the boring stuff is the stuff I remember the most." It made me think of the 'boring stuff' I remember. Warm sunshine days playing tag with my sibs in the front yard while my mom sat on the front porch watching us....late nights in a warm quiet home playing video games with my brother and my dad. Russell was right. I remember the boring stuff but the boring stuff is the stuff I remember {fondly}. What will my kids remember? Will they {fondly} remember these simple quiet times playing in the backyard, reading stories, doing puzzles? Will they remember the times I hold them and cuddle them? If anything I hope they remember I love them oh so much.</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: justify;">from me to you {enjoy}</div><div align="justify" class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br />
</div>nicolehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04046879253248834133noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7339955991135221139.post-81504094765952882622011-03-25T17:29:00.000-07:002011-04-22T15:40:03.861-07:00call me jane<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"></div><div style="text-align: center;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgZkzQ3njqHOejPVhy-xWG0y9UhmEB0AGfRHykyNflhneffPb6wOK5lFbiuXMOIHSElQyYtxoRRZEwaReX5VhHgQlX7nJiUMf4hZv3SrprBpFLW1HJnVHP2sl_6rD6BE3kunzXtczjntq5P/s1600/jane.bmp" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="640px" r6="true" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgZkzQ3njqHOejPVhy-xWG0y9UhmEB0AGfRHykyNflhneffPb6wOK5lFbiuXMOIHSElQyYtxoRRZEwaReX5VhHgQlX7nJiUMf4hZv3SrprBpFLW1HJnVHP2sl_6rD6BE3kunzXtczjntq5P/s640/jane.bmp" width="430px" /></a></div>Seriously....I found her like this. I hadn't been in the laundry room for all of 2 minutes. </div><div style="text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: center;">P.S. Check out all the inspiring blogs I've found...got a lot of ideas swirlin up in this head right now.</div><div style="text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: left;">from me to you {enjoy}</div>nicolehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04046879253248834133noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7339955991135221139.post-50134086659316632772011-02-26T10:05:00.000-08:002011-04-22T15:40:40.439-07:00out with the old...<div align="justify">...in with the new. Ok, I'm back. Baby No.2 threw me for awhile...but I'm back. Remember the 'thing' I was trying to find. Found it. So here's a recap.<br />
<br />
</div><div align="justify"></div><div align="justify">I'm becoming better at the 'mom thing'. I still yell. I've excepted the fact and I think my kids have too. They just yell back. It's just how we communicate...but we also talk, and laugh, and play, and dance, and snuggle. So if you happen to stop by my house and hear me yelling? Yeah, keep knocking, I'll hear you eventually. I asked my hubby the other day if I was a good mom...he said I was doing everything right except that I needed to relax. So I guess I haven't learned patience yet, but it was good to hear that from my love. I guess I am doing something right if my kids are still alive and healthy with some laughing, kissing, and an understanding of when mom means business. </div><div align="center">...</div><div align="justify"></div><img alt="" border="0" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5578168676089142050" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgbdrMAekZCSwnDZZYcYxU3g8eXCwTT3Jyi5iL_RkjzM_HHMRqRVKOsoJc5wRzu2CiQl656k51IriGdINhweDPXSWjkp1Bo9N4oIOFxwrofeF6sYkWFHwvtFmMN3tdMn7FC_SPzKCqXdtoE/s400/kids+in+bed.bmp" style="cursor: hand; display: block; height: 291px; margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center; width: 400px;" /> I'm becoming better at the 'wife thing'. I'm still sensitive, that won't change. But I talk more now...my hubby says I'm sassier. At least I don't blow up over the shorts on the floor any more. We have been able to talk more, laugh more, kiss more, and have an understanding. Our road will always have rough patches, but at least they are patches, and we've been able to ride over the bumps somewhat easily.<br />
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I'm becoming better at the 'friend thing'. I still don't take the initiative all that often. But I have been 'dropping' by...sorry ladies that's how I roll. And it's been good. I've really felt the love that all you good ladies have out there to share. And I think it's helped with the mom and wife thing. I know it has.<br />
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I'm becoming better at the 'cook/baker thing'. I've tried a few recipes...some good, some not so good. But I've heard 'Thanks babe, that was good' more often. That's an improvement.<br />
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I still don't have a sewing machine...but I have a real interest now...and I'm waiting for the awesome JoAnn's deal to roll around (yeah, I've even signed up for coupons, that's definitely an improvement).<br />
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And my happy place...awww, my happy place. Crafting. I've done quite a few actually. And I have found so many blogs that I can't wait to try the craft but I've got to finish the 3 on my dining room table first.<br />
<div align="center">... <img alt="" border="0" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5578173955718383554" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjVgGc6eZmm3JcZayErGz9WBqURZ9p3XX1Ksueiy2-M0z2ixy3B7DEKeQIxT3kGT9KrMeuJA9w7XBtBAX8jqvNcynWNMBYZtCTFS7ZKBfLRWb9K41FiTL7rnppHIAPxUuBnyHMDAlbqaV5s/s400/vday.bmp" style="cursor: hand; display: block; height: 400px; margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center; width: 346px;" /></div>All in all....I'm good. We're good. And thanks to all of you for your support. You know who you are.<br />
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<div style="text-align: justify;">from me to you {enjoy}</div>nicolehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04046879253248834133noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7339955991135221139.post-35366340074134899632010-11-16T14:25:00.000-08:002011-04-22T15:40:59.998-07:00discovering<div align="justify"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjVLg9FLt_3rHF6QohQ8FVFQdRoHm_-CYFye5rAcOD9th9uBFvdS1EEezGRafb__HPoIDO2zxrwFeyHSD4ETYEMcfwFiNMHl-v0vm97idSle58tc_Psj2xYpxOntZNthMIZFDKpon4E_OAI/s1600/jkghkjh.bmp"><img alt="" border="0" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5540650035248837298" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjVLg9FLt_3rHF6QohQ8FVFQdRoHm_-CYFye5rAcOD9th9uBFvdS1EEezGRafb__HPoIDO2zxrwFeyHSD4ETYEMcfwFiNMHl-v0vm97idSle58tc_Psj2xYpxOntZNthMIZFDKpon4E_OAI/s400/jkghkjh.bmp" style="cursor: hand; float: left; height: 301px; margin: 0px 10px 10px 0px; width: 400px;" /></a>My heart has been through a roller coaster of emotions lately. Rarely do I get the chance to be just me. Alone. In my thoughts, discovering, wrangling, and calming. And I think that is where the confusion sets in, and the emotions run wild. I don't get a chance to tame them. Some of it has to do with me, trying to put some kind of order to the corners of what makes me, some of it has to do with him, trying to put some kind of order to us, and some of it has to do with my son. My little boy child. He has made me laugh, cry (and often), yell, scream, smile, love, spoil, and everything in between. And as the season has changed so has my son. He has become a whirlwind of emotions...maybe its seeping from me and latching on to him. I don't mean for it too, but I think we are both changing. I am discovering what kind of mother I want to be, what kind of wife, what kind of person. And he is discovering what kind of boy he wants to be. And its expected for both of us. It's the time in our lives where we all go through a change and we need to discover ourselves. Build another layer of foundation that makes up who we are. I'm on my 31st layer and he is on his 2nd. So while I'm trying to tame my jumbled mess and discover this new layer of myself, so is he. And it's causing some angst. And since patience is something I'm learning, it's been hard. He's 2...I can hardly expect him to be mature about the issue. So I've got to take the reins on this one. I've been trying to let him do him, to find out who he is and how to handle the jumbled mess so when this happens again he'll be ready for it. You'd think I was a seasoned pro, but this one is new for me, and new for him. And we are figuring this one out together.<br />
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from me to you {enjoy}</div>nicolehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04046879253248834133noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7339955991135221139.post-76162077465616975552010-09-20T16:58:00.001-07:002011-04-22T15:41:17.601-07:00onions vs. avocados<div align="justify">Thomas and I went on a date this weekend (insert gasp with hand to chest gesture here). I know, shocking, right? It was the first time I left <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_0">Nevan</span> alone with a sitter, but it was Dani (Thomas' sister) and I trust her, so I knew <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_1">Nevan</span> was fine. It was my mama heart that hurt a little. But this isn't why the title of my post is onions vs. avocados.<br />
<br />
Thomas and I went to the book launch for Scott <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_2">Smiley's</span> book <em>Hope Unseen</em>. I haven't read the book, but the company Thomas works for helped sponsor the event so we were given tickets. If you don't know Scott's story don't worry, I didn't either. Scott is from <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_3">Pasco</span> and Thomas knew him and his <span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_4">brother</span> growing up. Scott went to Iraq to serve in the Army and while <span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_5">serving</span> his country lost his eye sight in a suicide bombing. Scott was close to losing his life as he had schrapnel in both his eyes and in his frontal lobe. Through his recovery and his life being spared he questioned his purpose in life and because of his trial became closer to his Heavenly Father. After recovering he married his high school sweetheart and has two children, both of which he has never <em>seen</em>. He continued serving in the Army, because<em> that's</em> what he wanted to do after losing his sight, wrote a book, and became a motivational speaker. Talk about purpose, and talk about faith.<br />
<br />
Still not the reason for my post...but here it is. One of the speakers was one of Scott's friend, a guy who served along side him in the Army, was there when the bomb exploded, and called Scott's wife when Scott was sent to the hospital. Pretty heavy stuff. And <em>his</em> talk was my favorite. He talked so highly of Scott. About how awesome of a guy Scott was. He compared onions to avocados to get his point across...and this is some serious paraphrasing as to what he said.<br />
<br />
If you take an onion and peel it layer by layer eventually you get to a middle of nothing...just a bunch of onion peels. But when you peel an avocado eventually you get a the large core which is hard as a rock. Most people are like onions...they don't have a core belief or sense of who they are. They just conform to whoever they are around at the time. There are rarely avocados in the world. Rarely do you find that person that has a strong core. They know who they are and they don't try to change for others. They try to help others, they uplift others, they inspire others, they support others.<br />
<br />
His talk hit close to my heart. Why? That's how I've been feeling...like an onion wishing I could be an avocado. Because avocados are pretty darn cool. Others remember avocados, others want to be like avocados. I'm working hard at being an avocado...I like avocados.<br />
<br />
from me to you {enjoy}</div>nicolehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04046879253248834133noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7339955991135221139.post-53053356426377769612010-09-09T15:21:00.000-07:002011-04-22T15:41:32.241-07:00i've got a lot on my mind<div align="justify">OK, so I do this <em>so</em> often it bores me. I get in a creative slump in every aspect of the term. I pine over other blogs and the creativity that oozes out of them and the women that created them, becoming slightly depressed over my inabilities. Truth is, I just became a mom for the second time. And life with a stubborn two year old, and I mean fall-asleep-in-time-out stubborn, and a needy 3 month old, is stressful. I'm learning to be a mom, a stay-at-home-mom at that, and a wife all over again. So needless to say I've been a little busy, and in the chaos I feel I've lost myself a little.<br />
<br />
The fact of the matter is I don't think I really ever had a 'thing'. And that's why I pine over those blogs...those women have a 'thing'. It's a cute 'thing', a 'creative' thing, a fashionable 'thing'. But not necessarily my 'thing'. And I can't complain that I don't have time to have a 'thing' because all those other women have a 'thing' <em>and</em> children. I want to find myself, reinvent myself. And because I require lists...here is my list.<br />
<br />
There's the mom thing. My neighbors must think I have a hearing problem and I don't realize I'm yelling. When did I become a yeller? Oh, that's right...when my son turned 2. And I can't believe I'm admitting that I'm a yeller. At least I'm not a hitter. OK, that wasn't very funny. But I want to be a better mom...<em>that</em> mom. The one that has patience for her kids. Patience is the only word that comes to mind right now...I think that's because I'm severely lacking in that virtue. Between dirty diapers that come at the most inconvenient times, projectile vomit on the third shirt of the day, and the whining about incomprehensible issues (I'm talking about both the kids and I), I feel this is an impossible feat. But I <em>do</em> want to raise my kids so I'm that mom my kids can talk to, have fun with, and respect. Respect what I have to say and respect me enough to heed those words.<br />
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There's the wife thing. I have to say I'm pretty good at this. My husband is probably doing that half snort/laugh thing when he reads this. But seriously. I try to be a good wife. Not that I don't try to be a good mom, but my husband HAS short term memory. Did you get that one? I do have an issue with communicating and then there's the sensitivity factor. Yes, I'm one of those women who let's things slide and then blows up when I find his dirty shorts on the floor and bombard him with a tirade of all the things he's done wrong, none of which have anything to do with his dirty shorts, and he is left wondering what the hell just happened. And I'm sensitive. Is there really anything wrong with being sensitive? No, I guess not, but sometimes I'm a little too sensitive...or a little too serious, and I want my marriage to be perfect. So step one, stop being so serious and laugh a little more, and step two, stop thinking that marriage has to be perfect. I did marry the guy knowing the flaws and loving him anyway.<br />
<br />
There's the church thing. I was raised LDS...and I believe in the gospel, <em>don't</em> get me wrong about that. But I have always been not so good at trying to learn the scripture stories and history, saying my prayers daily, diligent with visiting teaching, calling my home teachers back, and lately going to church every week. This <em>should</em> be my thing, because maybe I wouldn't be having to reinvent myself if I did more of these things. I'd be more content. But I do believe in the church, I do believe it is the only true gospel, I do love feeling the spirit when I become humble enough to let it touch my heart, I do want to raise my children in the church so they will have the same morals and values I have grown up with, I do want to learn more of the history and read those stories in the scriptures, and I do love those people in the church that have helped me with my testimony. But it's a hard 'thing' and I'm trying.<br />
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There's the friend thing. Let's look at the fact that I <em>have</em> friends and not the fact that I am horrible at <em>being</em> a friend. My husband and my family are my best friends, and no offense, I'd rather spend time with them (even if they do leave dirty shorts on the floor or are brutally honest about my latest outfit choice). It's just that I am <em>horrible</em> at taking the initiative. If you call me I would love to talk and would be happy you called, and if we went to hang out I would enjoy that time and be grateful I had a friend. But that's the friend making the initiative. I will, however, remember your birthday and make sure I let you know I was thinking about you, and I will email you, text you, Facebook you, and blog you until your sick of me.<br />
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There's the cook/baker thing. My husband would testify that this is definitely <em>not</em> my thing. Granted I have become better at the cooking thing, but not so much the baking thing. My flour has been known to expire and me not notice (because I didn't know flour <em>did</em> expire). I just didn't know how to cook and through years of practice (and many disappointing meals) I have a little more intuition of what tastes good and what tastes good together. But I'm no Betty Crocker. And I'm not passionate enough to have this be my thing. But for my husbands sake I will continue trying. Maybe you'll see a post here and there on a dish that actually turned out OK. And by OK I mean my husband ate it <em>and</em> said, 'That was good babe, thanks."<br />
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There's the sewing thing. It's not that I dislike sewing...it's just that I never really had an interest in it. But sewing a rip would be a nice thing to learn. Maybe I'll ask for one for Christmas so I can post something I made, something cute that will be envied as I have envied so many others.<br />
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There's the photography thing. I wish I had the expensive camera to take those <em>awesome</em> shots of my children and post them on my blog so you too would awe over the cuteness of them. Most of the blogs I search through, I'm envying the pictures. But how can I convince my husband that I need a really expensive camera...especially since I convinced him last year.<br />
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There's the fashion thing. I've never been the fashionable one. Back when Dr. Martens were cool I knew enough to know they were 'in', but not enough to know that the one's at Payless were not. Or that puffy painting my shirts was nerdy. But that was a long time ago, I don't do that anymore (mental note: throw that shirt away...). Since I just had baby number two I'm still losing the baby weight, but anything that goes in my closet has to be sister approved.<br />
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There's the crafty thing. And by crafting I mean all those <em>cute</em> blogs, and the creative things I see on those blogs. Creatively putting this and that together, and creatively displaying their thing. I can get rolling on a project, thinking I'm doing pretty good, and then I get shot down when I see the gold star and realize I'm the bronze. OK, this is just a pity party right now. But I love being crafty and creating. I guess this is my thing...I just lost it awhile ago. It's a little dusty, and I need to make the time to wipe off the cobwebs because this is my happy place.<br />
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So what have I learned. I've learned that I love my kids and want to be a better mom...and I'm perusing your blogs for inspiration. I've learned that I love my husband and want to be a better wife...and I don't tell him that often enough (sorry, it's that communication thing and maybe a little of that sensitivity factor). I've learned that I need to find balance within myself regarding my beliefs...every situation is different and only my Heavenly Father knows my heart. I've learned that friends are a great cure for feeling lonely...but they don't know I'm lonely unless I tell them. I've learned that clothes and makeup don't make <em>me</em> but they do make me feel better about myself...who doesn't feel good when you know you look good? I've learned there are skills I can learn if I just keep trying, and there are some skills I have that I need to start using again.<br />
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from me to you {enjoy}</div>nicolehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04046879253248834133noreply@blogger.com10tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7339955991135221139.post-68415367078514280222010-07-22T21:25:00.000-07:002011-02-26T18:06:29.627-08:00may, june, july...oh my<p align="center"></p><p align="center"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhOOk0bCrewqMgsgVyyQtdxlrEVIL1VWFUIGnCHBhEy4D9QXHEtRAJir_eYD3CP_BbVz9j60mBbej33GnHFKxovaNNZCA6iVlaG0fHTffJmRGBX_xAlFsq-2qkQig4_cNcgUxHi6y_CJPf2/s1600/untitled.bmp"><img style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 342px; DISPLAY: block; HEIGHT: 400px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5496953315964396258" border="0" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhOOk0bCrewqMgsgVyyQtdxlrEVIL1VWFUIGnCHBhEy4D9QXHEtRAJir_eYD3CP_BbVz9j60mBbej33GnHFKxovaNNZCA6iVlaG0fHTffJmRGBX_xAlFsq-2qkQig4_cNcgUxHi6y_CJPf2/s400/untitled.bmp" /></a></p><div align="center"><em>MAY</em></div><div align="center"><em>+</em>celebrated my sweet <em>boy</em> babe two year old birthday</div><div align="center">+gave birth to my sweet <em>girl</em> babe, Nevan Maree, 8.6 and 20</div><div align="center"><em>JUNE</em></div><div align="center">+celebrated a anniversary of eight with my <em>love</em></div><div align="center"><em>JULY</em></div><div align="center"><em>+my </em>papa blessed the sweet girl babe</div><div align="center">+family reunion with <em>missed</em> relatives</div><div align="center"></div><div align="center">.</div><div align="center"></div><div align="center">three months of <em>big</em> events</div><div align="center"><em>now</em> i'm a stay at home mama to care for my two babes</div><div align="center">i feel blessed and thankful and <em>hopeful</em></div>nicolehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04046879253248834133noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7339955991135221139.post-25405538481322959642010-04-19T09:59:00.001-07:002011-02-26T18:06:40.944-08:00how is it.....that I have a husband that still loves me and is patient with me when I'm chaotic.<br />...that I have a family who loves me when I'm acting a bit emotional.<br />...that I have so many friends that care enough.<br />...that I have a beautiful son that loves me.<br />...that I will have a little girl to love and hold.<br /><br />I guess I'm just a little bit lucky and a lot blessed.nicolehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04046879253248834133noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7339955991135221139.post-3454932647082886872010-02-22T07:41:00.000-08:002011-02-26T18:07:01.570-08:00like father like son<div align="center"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhE8FmHCLig3Zw55r2VEhrIndnNuJyMB2zorXGdeYxdIkdICBb4P0skx8BOfS5oYvXXSJkNsqNFEsJGlU6LnabyiWIv9P0u_2h5CaoErtRH9ShUzYobdqrRVaCORpV7zKVJzCvRb3s-4mfX/s1600-h/untitled.bmp"><img style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 320px; DISPLAY: block; HEIGHT: 265px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5441094734655502050" border="0" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhE8FmHCLig3Zw55r2VEhrIndnNuJyMB2zorXGdeYxdIkdICBb4P0skx8BOfS5oYvXXSJkNsqNFEsJGlU6LnabyiWIv9P0u_2h5CaoErtRH9ShUzYobdqrRVaCORpV7zKVJzCvRb3s-4mfX/s320/untitled.bmp" /></a> Someone loves their papa <em>very</em> much. </div>nicolehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04046879253248834133noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7339955991135221139.post-42696124111436653642010-02-05T07:55:00.000-08:002011-02-26T18:11:51.156-08:00heart<div align="center">Valentines Day is my favorite holiday...I love all year round, but because of this special day I get to post this...<br /></div><div align="left"><span style="color:#663366;"><em>.</em></span></div><div align="left"></div><div align="justify"><span style="color:#663366;"><em><a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_QfVeMMkkkNU/S2xTb2T2kvI/AAAAAAAAAhY/pP_maCo0bIY/s1600-h/100_2496.JPG"><img style="MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; WIDTH: 200px; FLOAT: left; HEIGHT: 150px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5434810588229702386" border="0" alt="" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_QfVeMMkkkNU/S2xTb2T2kvI/AAAAAAAAAhY/pP_maCo0bIY/s200/100_2496.JPG" /></a>this man</em></span> made the first move, <span style="color:#663366;"><em>this man</em></span> said i love you first, <span style="color:#663366;"><em>this</em></span><span style="color:#663366;"><em> <a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_QfVeMMkkkNU/S2xTPkxwoxI/AAAAAAAAAhQ/Tm8pwEHzQjk/s1600-h/100_2496.JPG"></a>man</em></span> got down on one knee, <em><span style="color:#663366;">this man</span></em> can make me laugh when i'm in a bad mood, <em><span style="color:#663366;">this</span> <span style="color:#663366;">man</span></em> knows when i need to cry and gives me his shoulder, <span style="color:#663366;"><em>this man</em></span> gives me long hugs for no reason, <em><span style="color:#663366;">this man</span></em> plays footsies with me when we go to bed, <em><span style="color:#663366;">this man</span></em> gives me butterflies when i see him after a long day, <em><span style="color:#663366;">this man</span></em> asks for my advice, <em><span style="color:#663366;">this man</span></em> understands me, <em><span style="color:#663366;">this man</span></em> knows me, <em><span style="color:#663366;">this man</span></em> loves me and i love <em><span style="color:#663366;">this man</span></em>.<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjDejPqqtg9hsr6Ib4i89LQRtuvj15o9-qM_J-WltPbViTC0irFbC_Kbjvbef_lOQQPu9fLcTqS39rvpAHVGkKGxAFSHGwkcxfv9vmbjXPnqdTrGOgWZPe5iRe-N-YgQVtZpMPerzjs3mjJ/s1600-h/newclothes.JPG"><img style="MARGIN: 0px 0px 10px 10px; WIDTH: 200px; FLOAT: right; HEIGHT: 189px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5434809898576945794" border="0" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjDejPqqtg9hsr6Ib4i89LQRtuvj15o9-qM_J-WltPbViTC0irFbC_Kbjvbef_lOQQPu9fLcTqS39rvpAHVGkKGxAFSHGwkcxfv9vmbjXPnqdTrGOgWZPe5iRe-N-YgQVtZpMPerzjs3mjJ/s200/newclothes.JPG" /></a></div><p align="justify"><em><span style="color:#993399;">this boy</span></em> took a long time coming, <span style="color:#993399;"><em>this boy</em></span> is my first, <em><span style="color:#993399;">this boy</span></em> cuddles at night, <em><span style="color:#993399;">this boy</span></em> likes to play with my hair, <em><span style="color:#993399;">this boy</span></em> dances when music plays, <em><span style="color:#993399;">this boy</span></em> loves cars and four wheelers, <em><span style="color:#993399;">this boy</span></em> loves the water, <em><span style="color:#993399;">this boy</span></em> runs and screams, <em><span style="color:#993399;">this boy</span></em> loves brocoli, <em><span style="color:#993399;">this boy</span></em> makes me laugh, <em><span style="color:#993399;">this boy</span></em> makes me cry, <em><span style="color:#993399;">this boy</span></em> makes me learn, <em><span style="color:#993399;">this boy</span></em> loves me and i love <em><span style="color:#993399;">this boy</span></em>.<em><span style="color:#993399;"><br /></span></em><br /><br /></p><div align="left"></div>nicolehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04046879253248834133noreply@blogger.com0