tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-43631107637765678812024-03-14T00:27:37.502-04:00AS THE DAYS GO BYUnknownnoreply@blogger.comBlogger367125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4363110763776567881.post-22152163597887094852012-06-06T16:29:00.001-04:002012-06-06T16:33:31.071-04:00Groupon FailTake a minute. Pay close attention to the picture. <div class="separator"style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://lh6.googleusercontent.com/-jrIqcDh9OOo/T8--mX31myI/AAAAAAAAA2Y/dqkQUgMHzl0/s640/blogger-image--1504329190.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://lh6.googleusercontent.com/-jrIqcDh9OOo/T8--mX31myI/AAAAAAAAA2Y/dqkQUgMHzl0/s640/blogger-image--1504329190.jpg" /></a></div>Unknownnoreply@blogger.com9tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4363110763776567881.post-54879422156327229842012-06-05T20:37:00.001-04:002012-06-05T20:37:57.023-04:00According to BrinnaElbows are for bending.<br />
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Noses are for God Bless Youing (sneezing).<br />
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Mouths are for eating.<br />
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Ears are for whispering.<br />
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Eyes are for glasses.<br />
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Knees are for band aids. <br />
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Unknownnoreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4363110763776567881.post-42398305666181984542012-06-01T21:56:00.001-04:002012-06-04T22:31:53.861-04:00Thank youAs we were leaving our local Relay For Life event I snapped this picture. <br />
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It's a perfectly beautiful sky on a day that was anything but. It was rainy and cloudy most of the day.<br />
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I couldn't help but wonder if it was a message from those that have been taken from us too soon by cancer. Maybe it was their way of saying "Thank You."<br />
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Thank you for remembering us, for advocating in our memories, for picking up the fight for a cure after we were no longer able to. <br />
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And to them I say Thank You. <br />
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Thank you for being a part of our lives, for showing is what courage is and for giving us the strength to fight in your honor. <br />
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Cancer sucks. Cancer sucks hard. The people that I know that have battled cancer are amazing, even if they lost their battle. <br />
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Thank you to all of the folks that work tirelessly on events like Relay For Life. Your dedication is amazing.<br />
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To the survivors, BRAVO! You have fought and won. May your days be filled with health and happiness.<br />
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If you're fighting cancer now, don't give up! You can and will win!Unknownnoreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4363110763776567881.post-49338342234980110232012-05-31T14:30:00.001-04:002012-05-31T21:10:32.243-04:00Mommy's LawI know you've heard of Murphy's Law. In this house we experience Mommy's Law.<br />
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Here are a few examples<br />
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1) On days when we have to get up early both kids want to sleep in. On my day off they're up at 6:00.<br />
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2) Brinna rarely naps....except when we have to be some where, then she falls asleep 10 minutes before we have to leave.<br />
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3) The kids can never find their shoes when we're running late. Even if they just had them a minute ago.<br />
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4) The kids never want a drink or snack until we're out in public with out one.<br />
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5) They pick up the toys just fine at the babysitter's, but the mere mention of clean up will elicit hour long temper tantrums when at home.<br />
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6) Nobody needs anything until I try to do something alone (like go to the bathroom).<br />
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7) Nobody ever needs to use the bathroom until I'm in it. Then suddenly everyone in the house needs it. Even Brinna who still wears diapers.<br />
<br />Unknownnoreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4363110763776567881.post-16185823890535616592012-04-16T17:04:00.001-04:002012-04-16T17:04:06.613-04:00What did I just do?!!After months upon months of agonizing and praying, I finally submitted my application to grad school. GRAD SCHOOL!!!! It might not seem like a big deal to anyone else but me, but to me it's a HUGE MEGA DEAL! When I got started college my whole intention was to get my bachelors, then my Masters, then my Doctorate. Well, after 5 years of school for my undergrad I was done. My GPA wasn't high enough to get accepted into the Master's program and Bowling Green State University. I would have had to take an extra year of classes just to get my GPA up. I wasn't interested in doing that. So, I made the choice to be done with school. Even at that point I thought maybe I would take a year off and go back eventually. Well, it's been 11 years.<br />
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I started thinking about furthering my education awhile ago. I might have even written a post about it. I could go look, but my brain is sort of fried right now. ;) A few months ago I decided to go ahead and apply. I figured no harm. Then I realized the application required an essay. I should have known that, but for some reason it really threw me for a loop. It was the standard "Where do you see yourself in 5 years and why do you want a degree from us." I don't know why it threw me so much, but it did. You see, I don't have a 5 year plan. For some reason "Be a good Christian, wife and mother, have a decent job, be able to pay the bills and have a little extra" didn't seem to fit into what they wanted. And they needed 500 words?! So, I spent the last few months trying to come up with a 5 year plan. I researched what types of jobs I would be good at. I researched which graduate degree would best fit those jobs. And still...no 5 year plan. I saw a bunch of careers I would be really good at. A bunch of careers I would be more than qualified for with a MBA. So, I went with that theme. I did all the revising I could do (with a little help from a friend) and hit the submit button.<br />
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And now I wait.Unknownnoreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4363110763776567881.post-91428216349414671002012-04-07T14:23:00.001-04:002012-04-07T14:27:38.257-04:00Then This HappensBen and I often talk about moving. We talk about how nice it would be to be closer to the grocery store, his work, and pizza. I really miss pizza delivery. <br />
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Then we get a perfect day. The one where the sky is blue, the sun is shining, the light breeze ruffles your hair. And I remember why we live in the country. <div class="separator"style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://lh6.googleusercontent.com/-B2Lk-dH8POo/T4CHGfRQQhI/AAAAAAAAAws/mP2Imt4NUIs/s640/blogger-image-1530841396.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://lh6.googleusercontent.com/-B2Lk-dH8POo/T4CHGfRQQhI/AAAAAAAAAws/mP2Imt4NUIs/s640/blogger-image-1530841396.jpg" /></a></div>Unknownnoreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4363110763776567881.post-88136083154627416262012-04-03T18:23:00.002-04:002012-04-03T18:23:26.679-04:00I'm big stuffYou may remember my friend Ashley from the <a href="http://asthedaysgoby-shaun.blogspot.com/2010/02/few-weeks-ago-my-friend-ashley-and-i.html">guest post</a> she wrote for me awhile back.<br />
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I was lucky enough to meet her when Adelae was just a baby. We were part of a message board for moms with kids born in Feb 2007. We've actually met a few times, so I know she's not some creepy internet stalker and she's a real person. And I love her. We might not see each other all the time, but we do keep in touch via Facebook several times a day.<br />
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About a year ago Ashley decided she was going to take her love of blogging to the next level. She started doing product reviews in addition to her regular blogging. She hit a snag when she realized that she could only review toys and clothes geared toward boys. Naturally, due to my awesomeness, she asked if I would be interested in helping her do reviews. And, since I don't have enough to keep me busy, I said yes! (I won't like the prospect of free stuff didn't hurt.)<br />
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So, you can occasionally find my reviews on her blog<a href="http://andthelittleonestoo.com/" target="_blank"> And The Little Ones Too</a>. While you're there reading my<a href="http://andthelittleonestoo.com/2012/04/say-hello-to-shaun-our-new-reviewer/" target="_blank"> introduction post</a>, look around her blog. She has some giveaways open right now that I'm sure some of you would love.Unknownnoreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4363110763776567881.post-52076515069821490682012-04-02T09:00:00.000-04:002012-04-02T09:00:12.600-04:00IN. THE. TRASH!I was sitting in the kitchen checking my Facebook, Email, and the like. I hear this conversation coming from the girls.<br />
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A: You NEVER EVER play with these toys! I am SICK AND TIRED of seeing them laying around. I'm throwing them in the TRASH!<br />
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B: <i>Lots of fake crying<br />
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A: That. Is. It! I told you a zillion times to CLEAN UP THESE toys! Now they're IN. THE. TRASH!<br />
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B: <i>a bit panicked</i> No! Don't throw them away for real Adelae!<br />
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A: I told you I'M SICK OF IT!<br />
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<i>Lots of giggles</i><br />
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As you can guess, this is a conversation we've had more than once in this house. I've never actually resorted to throwing their toys away. Mostly because I'm a pack rat. And I hate to think of all that money going in the trash. We bought those toys with our hard earned money. I can't see just pitching them. I know of some parents that have though. <br />
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I think the mess associated with kids is something all parents struggle with. I know there are parents out there that manage to keep a perfectly clean and clutter free house, even with little ones. I'm not one of them. I wish I were, but I'm not. I'm more about the play than the clean up. As a result, our house is rarely, if ever, truly clean. About once a week I get fed up with the mess and I demand the kids pick up. This results in the "If you don't clean up, I'm throwing your stuff away" conversation. <br />
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I was sort of hoping one of my kids would have that "neat" gene that makes them want to clean up all the time. So far, that hasn't happened. It's a constant struggle to get them to pick anything up. It's not just toys. It's dirty clothes, dishes, dress up clothes, and just about anything else they get out. I hear "But I HATE to clean up" at LEAST once a day. For almost a week we had them cleaning up two times a day. It was amazing! Then work, life, and laziness got in the way. I find it hard to be the enforcer when I've been at work all day. I just want them to be happy and have fun. I don't want the few hours I have with them to be spent yelling about cleaning up. <br />
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I wish I had a magic wand. Or some Mary Poppins type magic. I would LOVE cleaning up if I could snap my fingers and BAM! clean house. What tricks do you use to get your kids to pick up? Tips for keeping the house clean? When I get home from standing on my feet all day, the last thing I want to do is stand at the sink and do the dishes, or walk around picking up all the junk that magically accumulates when we're gone. (Where DOES that come from anyway?!)I'm open to any tips that can keep us from struggling with the stuff all the time.Unknownnoreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4363110763776567881.post-14062184483850497102012-03-08T08:47:00.001-05:002012-03-08T08:47:56.564-05:00I Made A Choice<p> </p> <p>I made a choice yesterday. I decided to not let others negativity weigh me down. We all know that one person that complains about everything. I know I do. The person I’m thinking about complains about the cold, then complains when it gets warm, then complains because it’s raining, then it’s too dry, work is too busy, work is too slow, the list goes on and on. I consider myself a pretty positive person and the constant complaining really drags me down. I find myself getting really depressed. Instead of looking at the good in life I start focusing on the bad. When I’m at work I find myself getting short with my customers and that’s not like me at all. </p> <p>I knew something had to change. So, I made a choice. I decided that I was going to not only find the positive side of every situation, but also make that positive side known. Someone complains about the cold? It’ll be over soon enough. Too much rain? It’s good for the grass! Job getting you down? At least you have a job! </p> <p>After I decided to look on the bright side of life, I had a much better day. I enjoyed my time at work, I enjoyed my customers, I enjoyed my kids and husband much more. Just like a negative attitude, a positive attitude is catching. If you’re happy, then those around you will be too. </p> Unknownnoreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4363110763776567881.post-78981490797397379722012-03-04T18:00:00.001-05:002012-03-04T18:00:22.378-05:00Sunday, Sunday<p>I love Sunday. I always have. It’s always been the one day of the week where I don’t have to do anything. </p> <p>When I was a kid Sundays were full of just being. There wasn’t anywhere we had to be (after Mass, of course), there wasn’t anything that had to be done. It was the one day of the week I could read a book, take a nap and even have a Pepsi. (I wasn’t allowed to have pop.) If I was with my grandparents, we’d do pretty much the same thing. It was such a relaxing day.</p> <p>The lazy atmosphere of Sunday has stuck with me my entire life. When I was in college, Sunday was lazy day. I’ll admit that I had to do homework, but it always felt wrong to be productive on Sunday.</p> <p>Sunday is still lazy day in our house. We usually go to church. After we either go to brunch or make a big breakfast when we get home. After that, it’s a whole lot of nothing. I usually read, play around on the computer, cross stitch and play with the girls. Ben’s a little more productive than I am. He usually cleans something. I cheer him on. The girls get to watch more movies than is probably good for them and just hang out. It’s nice. We’re all together, even if we’re not doing the same thing. It’s a lovely way to recharge our batteries for the upcoming week. </p> <p>If you don’t make Sunday a lazy day, I highly recommend trying it. If you can’t be lazy, at least be together. </p> Unknownnoreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4363110763776567881.post-77730331827633560452012-02-19T15:10:00.001-05:002012-02-19T15:10:23.909-05:00Happy Birthday, Valentine<p>I know that Adelae’s birthday was almost a week ago (Feb 14 to be exact) and we did lots of great stuff to celebrate. It just never seems like her birthday until we have her party. She was even a bit confused. </p> <p> </p> <p>It always amazes me how much my kids grow and change in one short year. I always get a bit nostalgic. I pull out the baby pictures, the videos of their first steps, first words, first time eating baby food, first day of school…all that good stuff that makes us parents think “Crap. People really were right when they said to cherish every moment because they’re only little once.” I look at my giant child compared to the baby she was and I get a little panicky. </p> <p> </p> <p>This last year Adelae has changed so much. She has grown so much physically, of course, but that’s not what astounds me. It’s her brain that blows me away almost daily. And she’s just so nonchalant about it. The other day she says to me “So, I can read now.” Like it was no big deal. A few days later she says to me “Hey Mommy, guess what. I can do math now. I did addition with Daddy and I got them all right with out his help.” Ummm…what?! Reading?! Addition?! Isn’t that suppose to wait until 1st grade? Or, at the very least, Kindergarten? And her imagination is really something to behold. Her and Brinna will play Barbies for hours. Literally hours. And her heart is as big as they come. She can often be heard offering to give her toys to her little sister. Not loan, give. Sometimes it’s a ploy to get another toy, but most of the time it’s a genuine act of generosity. When she wrote her birthday list she added a few things for Brinna on there as well. </p> <p>There are are times when she is most definitely still just a little kid. Like when she bawls because she has to go to bed, or she can’t watch 5 movies in a row. She’s still really shy around adults and kids she doesn’t really know. She hates to clean up. Normal kid stuff. But on the whole? I’m pretty sure she’s the best kid ever. I might be a little biased though. </p> <p> </p> <p>She makes my heart melt all the time. I feel like I must be a pretty good Mom to have such a great kid. Nothing makes a Mother feel more validated than when your 5 year old climbs in your lap, lays her hands on your face and says “Don’t worry Mommy. You can still snuggle me even when I’m 5.” </p> <p> </p> <p>A birthday post wouldn’t be complete with out a few photos, of course. </p> <p> </p> <p><a href="http://lh3.ggpht.com/-_MWiWAVaJ7I/T0FW-zYWp9I/AAAAAAAAAss/wUpk0Wm9Zmg/s1600-h/IMG_3612%25255B8%25255D.jpg"><img style="border-bottom: 0px; border-left: 0px; display: block; float: none; margin-left: auto; border-top: 0px; margin-right: auto; border-right: 0px" title="IMG_3612" border="0" alt="IMG_3612" src="http://lh6.ggpht.com/-ZhN3Tqau6e8/T0FW_kC-5FI/AAAAAAAAAs0/nebQ05VA280/IMG_3612_thumb%25255B6%25255D.jpg?imgmax=800" width="375" height="294"></a></p> <p><a href="http://lh5.ggpht.com/--P-UTjco7yY/T0FXB9sEt4I/AAAAAAAAAs8/5KxpCfGSurU/s1600-h/IMG_3616%25255B7%25255D.jpg"><img style="border-bottom: 0px; border-left: 0px; display: block; float: none; margin-left: auto; border-top: 0px; margin-right: auto; border-right: 0px" title="IMG_3616" border="0" alt="IMG_3616" src="http://lh4.ggpht.com/-pulSx7VgYZA/T0FXDUHp3MI/AAAAAAAAAtE/bYHQFkUUmCU/IMG_3616_thumb%25255B5%25255D.jpg?imgmax=800" width="391" height="309"></a> </p> <p> </p> <p> </p> <p></p> <p><a href="http://lh4.ggpht.com/-bSyw6Yl9C-Q/T0FXG_wr8FI/AAAAAAAAAtM/5FwBihtgK_s/s1600-h/IMG_3640%25255B13%25255D.jpg"><img style="border-bottom: 0px; border-left: 0px; display: block; float: none; margin-left: auto; border-top: 0px; margin-right: auto; border-right: 0px" title="IMG_3640" border="0" alt="IMG_3640" src="http://lh6.ggpht.com/-nKL79inYyNc/T0FXLHowgBI/AAAAAAAAAtU/HR1fVuFnUYs/IMG_3640_thumb%25255B11%25255D.jpg?imgmax=800" width="289" height="371"></a></p> Unknownnoreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4363110763776567881.post-70642749544938843002012-02-03T08:52:00.001-05:002012-02-03T08:52:46.107-05:00I broke my kid<p>Adelae is shy. Like really shy. Like “I’d rather poop my pants at school than tell the teacher I have to go potty” shy. I think I broke her. I think I might have told her to “be careful” or “stop doing that!” one too many times. I can’t help but wonder if I’ve somehow made her this way. She won’t talk to other kids because she doesn’t remember their names. She’s petrified of adults. That includes her aunts and uncles, teachers, and sometimes even her grandparents. </p> <p> </p> <p>You can see the moment the shyness starts to overtake her. She starts scrunching the bottom of her shirt in her hands. Her head drops down. Then her shoulders start to round. It’s like she goes into a protective stance, as if she’s afraid she’s going to be hurt. We went to Build A Bear the other day and I thought Adelae was going to have a nervous breakdown when the worker was talking to her. She was scrunching her shirt so hard that she left wrinkles. Adelae was so hunched over I thought she was going to contort into a ball. It’s painful to watch.</p> <p> </p> <p>I want to jump in and answer all the questions for her. I want to scoop her up and tell her that she doesn’t have to talk to anyone. I want to keep her home so that she doesn’t have to endure this every day at school. Her teachers tell me that she’s fine with the other girls in her class, but not the boys or the teachers. (I’m ok with her being shy around boys. That can last until she’s well into her 20’s.) But, I know that’s not the right thing to do. After all, it’s not like she cries when I drop her off at school, or anywhere else for that matter. She happily gets ready, jumps out of the car and races to her classroom. But, she does poop her pants because she’s too afraid to tell the teachers she needs to use the restroom. She goes with out eating her lunch because she won’t raise her hand to ask the teacher to help her open the containers. It hurts my heart. It makes me sad that I can’t be there to remind her to use the restroom, or to open her containers. Or to just hold her and make sure she’s ok. </p> <p> </p> <p>And I blame myself. I’ve gotten better, but I’m an overprotective mother. I’ve said “Be careful!” more times than I can even imagine. I’m petrified of my kids being kidnapped, so I’ve always told her to NEVER talk to strangers unless Mommy or Daddy says it’s ok. In hindsight, I may have gone overboard. And now I’ve broken my baby. I can’t fix her. I don’t know what to do. I don’t know how to give her the confidence she needs. We try to come up with suggestions to help her at school, but then she’s too shy to even raise her hand. When she talks to me about it, she gets teary eyed. She WANTS to be more confident, but she just doesn’t know how. And I don’t know how to help her. I feel like a failure as a mother. I know that underneath that shy exterior is a wonderful little girl. She’s smart and funny. She’s a wonderful sister and friend. She’s so much more than the girl that hides in the corner. How can I give her that confidence? How can I right my wrongs? </p> Unknownnoreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4363110763776567881.post-41222320869774881922012-01-05T10:50:00.001-05:002012-01-05T10:50:21.826-05:00Migraines Suck<p>I suffer from migraines and have for most of my memory. They’re not headaches. They’re migraines. Blinding, pounding, nausea inducing migraines. I try to explain to Ben what they feel like because “headache” is far too mild. </p> <p>Imagine that you have a grape in your hand. Now, squeeze one end of the grape. See how the opposite end is sort of swollen looking, like the skin might rip at any moment? That’s how my eyes feel. Even blinking hurts them. It feels like the inside if my eyelids are lined with sandpaper. Now, imagine that you have teeny tiny elves all around your poor swollen eyes. Not cute little elves either. Knife wielding angry elves. Every single time the weakest bit of light hits your poor swollen eyes the evil little elves poke you one trillion times with their tiny little knives. Now imagine that every little sound you hear is amplified by one million times. Sort of like being at a rock concert in the front row with out all the fun of actually being at a rock concert. Now, remember that time you had the stomach virus from hell. The nausea, the body aches, and oh the nausea. Sucks right? But I’m not done yet. Now imagine that your brain is swollen against your skull and feels like it might explode at any given moment. Oh, and your head weighs about a trillion pounds. As if that isn’t enough, imagine that your neck and shoulder muscles are so tight that you can barely bend your head. You feel like your shoulders have taken permanent residence up around your ears. It’s not a lot of fun. Add in a job where you have lots of people to deal with, a computer screen to stare at and (if you’re lucky) the drive thru to contend with. But, you think to yourself, I can handle this for one day. It’s not so bad for a day. Then 3 days pass. Then it’s Christmas and you can’t even really enjoy the day because you’re head hurts so dang bad. Then it’s 3 weeks later and you still have the cursed migraine and you’re seriously debating ripping your own head off because at least you wouldn’t have that stupid migraine anymore. </p> <p>Did I mention that this whole time you’re taking Excedrin Migraine and Ibuprofen like it’s candy? 2 Excedrin is the recommended dosage. As you take them the first day you think “Ah..this will get me some relief.” Only to find out later that it doesn’t make a dent in the pain. Then you take 4 Ibuprofen because that HAS to help right? Nope, no such luck. So you drink a pop thinking “I read somewhere caffeine helps.” Nope, not at all. You think “Maybe a massage.” But, since it’s the holidays you don’t have the extra money, so you beg your husband to do it. Except he’s afraid of hurting you and is, understandably, tired from work. So it doesn’t really help at all. Calling the chiropractor will help, but they don’t have any openings. Awesome. Finally, after 3 weeks of suffering, you have an emotional breakdown. It had to happen sometime right? </p> <p>This is exactly how my life went from a few weeks before Christmas until after the New Year. It was awful. I was miserable. I had a migraine on Christmas, I had a migraine on New Years. It sucked. A lot. I think the worse part is that people just don’t understand. It’s hard to explain to someone what it feels like. They seem to have the “Take some Tylenol and get over it” mentality. If someone tells you that they’re suffering from a migraine, please offer to help them out so they can go crawl into a dark hole and sleep for a few hours. Or at least be understanding. Maybe loan them a pair of sunglasses. Or a massage. </p> Unknownnoreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4363110763776567881.post-58722476538908196292012-01-03T16:44:00.000-05:002012-01-03T16:44:24.516-05:00No Resolution For You!I should probably post lots and lots of pictures of the girls opening their Christmas presents, but I'm not going to. Mostly because the pictures are still on the camera and I don't have the patience to upload them, edit them, then fight with Blogger to get them posted. Maybe some other day. Or maybe not. <br />
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Instead, I'm going to blog about New Years Resolutions. It seems like everyone makes them. Or at least says they do. I don't. I used to. Of course, like 90% (just a guess) of other people in the world, I always failed miserably. Then I would get all depressed because I couldn't stick to my Resolutions. I think I'll just bypass all that guilt and not make any resolutions to start with. <br />Unknownnoreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4363110763776567881.post-40663925726575012252011-12-14T08:26:00.001-05:002011-12-14T08:26:44.553-05:00Tis The SeasonI spent all of yesterday being totally stressed out about Christmas. I'm way behind on my shopping, there's never enough money to buy what I want and pay the bills too. Between Ben and I's work schedule there's no way we will be able to take the girls to see Santa this year. I had myself so stressed out I was getting ill. I managed to get two giant cold sores from the stress. <br />
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This morning I realized something. Christmas isn't about presents. It's not about spending every dime we have on extravagant presents for everyone. It's about celebrating the birth of Jesus. It's about spending time with family. It's about being grateful for the things that we are able to give to the people we love. <br />
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And Santa? My kids don't even care. Adelae said "I'll just write him a letter." Unknownnoreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4363110763776567881.post-52425563249778700592011-12-05T10:49:00.001-05:002011-12-05T10:52:00.832-05:00I kind of suck at thisI used to be a good blogger. I blogged at least once a week. Or at least once a month. Now I just don't feel like I have anything to say. Or not anything that people care about reading anyway. I'm boring. I feel boring. I feel like perhaps I've gone about as far as I can with this blog. I'm debating taking it off line. I post all of my pictures and thoughts on Facebook. I don't have any deep thoughts to share with the blogging community, not that many people would read it if I did. <br />
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Also, I'm busy. Between work, kids, husband and house I don't really feel like I have much left to give. Then things I want to blog about, I can't because it's insanely personal. Not really meant for the world at large to read. But, it's hard to take away something that chronicles my children's developments. There's so many great pictures on here, I would hate to lose them all. I'm undecided as of now what I will do. But, don't be surprised if the next time you go to search for my blog (not that many of you every do), it isn't there. <br />
<br />Unknownnoreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4363110763776567881.post-19240839780090213932011-10-30T13:56:00.001-04:002011-10-30T13:56:22.427-04:00Depression ConfessionI suffer from a mild form of depression. I choose not to take medication because I can usually fight off the really bad attacks. Then there are days like today. Everything seems wrong. Nothing makes me smile. I want to go to bed, pull the covers over my head and sleep for days. I want to cry, but the tears won't come. I know people will say to "get over it" or "you're being overly dramatic." I only wish it were that easy. Trust me, I wish I could jump up and "get over it." I hate feeling like this. I hate it. I want to smile and laugh with my kids. I want to want to play. I wish my husband understood how hard I fight to keep that weight from crushing me. I wish that weight didn't exist.<br />
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I know that tomorrow's another day. I know that weight might not be there in the morning. I know that I have a million reasons to be happy. Maybe tomorrow will be a better day. Unknownnoreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4363110763776567881.post-12419192851549176772011-10-20T17:13:00.000-04:002011-10-20T17:13:38.508-04:00If I could save time in a bottle..It would be at times like these.<br />
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-sDeTlK8vjAc/TqCO15BYY8I/AAAAAAAAAqc/u3TOacIwbZI/s1600/IMG_3351-blog.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left:1em; margin-right:1em"><img border="0" height="300" width="400" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-sDeTlK8vjAc/TqCO15BYY8I/AAAAAAAAAqc/u3TOacIwbZI/s400/IMG_3351-blog.jpg" /></a></div><br />Unknownnoreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4363110763776567881.post-55145700165322017732011-09-06T19:45:00.004-04:002011-09-06T20:03:05.203-04:00The Guilt Will Get YaI knew when I started working that I would eventually face the Working Mom Guilt. At first, I felt guilty that I didn't miss my kids more. I felt guilty that I actually ENJOYED dropping them off at the sitter's house and getting out of the house. I felt guilty because I didn't feel guilty, if that makes any sense. <br /><br />So, I've been cruising along fairly guilt free for the last few months. Today, all that guilt caught up with me in one crushing blow. I was discussing with a co-worker (also a working mom) about Adelae feeling shy at school. Her response was not what I expected. I expected her to say that everything would be fine. After all, we're both working moms. Instead, she said that I should pull Adelae out of school, quit my job and stay at home again. That's when it hit me right between the eyes.....The Working Mom Guilt. <br /><br />I've always had an over active imagination. So, the picture I mentally pained quickly went from bad to worse. I imagined poor Adelae being left at the door with out a "Have a good day!" or a "Have fun!" I imagined poor Adelae playing all by herself at recess because her teachers didn't know she was shy. Why didn't they know? Because I couldn't tell them because I was too busy at work to drop her off or pick her up from school. I imagined all the other kids thinking that the babysitter was her mom. I imagined Adelae alone outside the school waiting on a Mommy that never came. The Working Mom Guilt was in full force. I was trying to wait on customers while holding back tears. I wanted to rush out of the bank, drive as fast as I could to my daughter's school, pick her up, hug her and reassure her that I loved her. <br /><br />Then I got a grip. The girls baby sitter is one of my good friends. Adelae gets dropped off at school with the baby sitter's son, who is in Adelae's class. I know she's never dropped off without a "Goodbye!" or a "Have a nice day!" I know that it doesn't matter if the other kids think that the sitter is Adelae's mom. I know that she'll never be left all alone in the front of the school waiting on me. That Working Mom Guilt was trying to take hold deep inside. It was playing on my insecurities. I knew that none of it was true. <br /><br />You see, I thought long and hard before I went back to work. I didn't jump at the first job that came my way. I didn't accept the job before Ben and I really looked at the pros and cons. I know that in order to do the things we want to do, I had to find a job. I had to go back to work, at least part time. And, despite the Working Mom Guilt, I'm confident I made the right decision. <br /><br />Adelae's teacher sends home a progress book every day. I'm able to communicate with them through that book. I've written notes about how shy she is feeling. They are doing their best to work with her. Adelae won't ever be left in front of the school crying because Mommy didn't pick her up. The girls know that they are far more important to me than any job could possibly be. <br /><br />I still can't quite fathom why another working mom would lay that Working Mom Guilt Trip on me. I don't know that I'll ever understand. But, the next time she tries, I can keep the Working Mom Guilt Monster at bay. I had 4.5 very good years at home with my kids. Now it's time for mommy to go to work and make some money!Unknownnoreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4363110763776567881.post-65727070622338406662011-08-31T13:26:00.012-04:002011-08-31T14:55:20.342-04:00That Wasn't So BadOur little camping trip went remarkably well. Sure, I forgot the camera at home, we got a late start and almost didn't get to the campground in time to get the key for our little cabin. Thankfully I had my phone and Ben managed to grab the girl at the camp store before she left for the night, so all's well that ends well.
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<br />Here's our little cabin in the woods. (Except not so much in the woods, so more like our little cabin by an unmowed field)
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<br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-7C9ErF4Z4AI/Tl5xIVT7feI/AAAAAAAAAoU/gOrAxryailg/s1600/iPhone%2Bpictures%2B161%2Bblog.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 299px;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-7C9ErF4Z4AI/Tl5xIVT7feI/AAAAAAAAAoU/gOrAxryailg/s400/iPhone%2Bpictures%2B161%2Bblog.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5647075370742808034" /></a>
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<br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-SNJWgJepKho/Tl5yvTqmGKI/AAAAAAAAAoc/t-XcwIW8Jn8/s1600/iPhone%2Bpictures%2B164%2Bblog.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 299px;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-SNJWgJepKho/Tl5yvTqmGKI/AAAAAAAAAoc/t-XcwIW8Jn8/s400/iPhone%2Bpictures%2B164%2Bblog.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5647077139827529890" /></a>
<br />We arrived pretty late the first night, so we didn't do much more than unpack and go to sleep.
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<br />The next day was jam packed with action.
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<br />We did a little playing on the playground.
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<br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/--Ee96Lb2be8/Tl51xfF7dvI/AAAAAAAAAok/pILZw5r59Q4/s1600/iPhone%2Bpictures%2B167%2Bblog.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 299px; height: 400px;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/--Ee96Lb2be8/Tl51xfF7dvI/AAAAAAAAAok/pILZw5r59Q4/s400/iPhone%2Bpictures%2B167%2Bblog.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5647080475789588210" /></a>
<br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-oRp_Fzagh6I/Tl51x_zgPWI/AAAAAAAAAos/vUpBdBeq7BI/s1600/iPhone%2Bpictures%2B169%2Bblog.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 299px; height: 400px;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-oRp_Fzagh6I/Tl51x_zgPWI/AAAAAAAAAos/vUpBdBeq7BI/s400/iPhone%2Bpictures%2B169%2Bblog.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5647080484570676578" /></a>
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<br />Visited the lake (the girls first time ever seeing any body of water larger than a pond)
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<br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-jHgqHfQ7S5k/Tl53RujJxiI/AAAAAAAAAo0/nQzJdYFbEOg/s1600/iPhone%2Bpictures%2B172%2Bblog.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 299px;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-jHgqHfQ7S5k/Tl53RujJxiI/AAAAAAAAAo0/nQzJdYFbEOg/s400/iPhone%2Bpictures%2B172%2Bblog.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5647082129206134306" /></a>
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<br />Went to the beach.
<br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-Q3Cy2hpFdxs/Tl54F9npmiI/AAAAAAAAAo8/ekI7pT8Qzbc/s1600/iPhone%2Bpictures%2B181%2Bblog.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 298px; height: 400px;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-Q3Cy2hpFdxs/Tl54F9npmiI/AAAAAAAAAo8/ekI7pT8Qzbc/s400/iPhone%2Bpictures%2B181%2Bblog.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5647083026604726818" /></a>
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<br />Played in the sand.
<br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-cvyHguhjVyA/Tl558_4GSFI/AAAAAAAAApE/Vi5fnXqkXZk/s1600/iPhone%2Bpictures%2B179%2Bbog.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 299px; height: 400px;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-cvyHguhjVyA/Tl558_4GSFI/AAAAAAAAApE/Vi5fnXqkXZk/s400/iPhone%2Bpictures%2B179%2Bbog.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5647085071615019090" /></a>
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<br />Swam like little fish.
<br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-PgDtT7MofnE/Tl57cfLkWbI/AAAAAAAAApM/rGTNDJma5x0/s1600/iPhone%2Bpictures%2B176%2Bblog.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 299px; height: 400px;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-PgDtT7MofnE/Tl57cfLkWbI/AAAAAAAAApM/rGTNDJma5x0/s400/iPhone%2Bpictures%2B176%2Bblog.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5647086712105753010" /></a>
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<br />Played in the sand some more.
<br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-uMcpf0yUf24/Tl58x32zU2I/AAAAAAAAApU/wjTw6sSeHtQ/s1600/iPhone%2Bpictures%2B178%2Bblog.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 299px; height: 400px;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-uMcpf0yUf24/Tl58x32zU2I/AAAAAAAAApU/wjTw6sSeHtQ/s400/iPhone%2Bpictures%2B178%2Bblog.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5647088179018421090" /></a>
<br />Had some friends over for dinner.
<br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-EHPF75fbTTs/Tl5-BGbDEqI/AAAAAAAAApc/C7DYJoKhfbA/s1600/iPhone%2Bpictures%2B182%2Bblog.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 299px; height: 400px;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-EHPF75fbTTs/Tl5-BGbDEqI/AAAAAAAAApc/C7DYJoKhfbA/s400/iPhone%2Bpictures%2B182%2Bblog.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5647089540138209954" /></a>
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<br />We, of course, had a gigantic thunderstorm our second night there. Apparently, if you want it to rain, just tell us to go camping. Thanks to our little cabin, we stayed perfectly dry. I do have to admit that I was more than a little nervous about Adelae sleeping in the top bunk inches away from the canvas roof as the wind howled, rain pelted and lightening flashed. So, I woke her up, tucked her in bed with her Daddy and attempted to fall back asleep.
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<br />The next day we decided to head home early. Our original plan was to head to the zoo, but with Brinna's fear of everything that moves, we thought it might not be such a good idea. We headed back to the beach to collect some shells and take some more pictures before we headed home.
<br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-6p0hpcxOFnQ/Tl6AS9VYL2I/AAAAAAAAAp0/M_6TBTQCS-U/s1600/iPhone%2Bpictures%2B200%2Bblog.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 400px;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-6p0hpcxOFnQ/Tl6AS9VYL2I/AAAAAAAAAp0/M_6TBTQCS-U/s400/iPhone%2Bpictures%2B200%2Bblog.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5647092045959409506" /></a>
<br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/--s8E_3ErhPc/Tl6ASnRj-vI/AAAAAAAAAps/gPnAONUHeGA/s1600/iPhone%2Bpictures%2B193%2Bblog.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 299px; height: 400px;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/--s8E_3ErhPc/Tl6ASnRj-vI/AAAAAAAAAps/gPnAONUHeGA/s400/iPhone%2Bpictures%2B193%2Bblog.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5647092040037825266" /></a>
<br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-InXOx8V4j5I/Tl6ASAeqFEI/AAAAAAAAApk/Z1Vhoe5M2lw/s1600/iPhone%2Bpictures%2B184%2Bblog.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 299px; height: 400px;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-InXOx8V4j5I/Tl6ASAeqFEI/AAAAAAAAApk/Z1Vhoe5M2lw/s400/iPhone%2Bpictures%2B184%2Bblog.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5647092029623768130" /></a>
<br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-BBgi6c-lBwk/Tl6ATfqww1I/AAAAAAAAAp8/xCjc2LDDtK4/s1600/iPhone%2Bpictures%2B189%2Bblog.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 299px; height: 400px;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-BBgi6c-lBwk/Tl6ATfqww1I/AAAAAAAAAp8/xCjc2LDDtK4/s400/iPhone%2Bpictures%2B189%2Bblog.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5647092055175906130" /></a>
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<br />Unknownnoreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4363110763776567881.post-41760610789736631292011-08-21T17:52:00.002-04:002011-08-21T18:02:16.072-04:00One last summer flingThe end of summer is upon us. Before too long Adelae will be starting her second year of preschool, the weather will get colder and I imagine the snow will start to fly. We've truly made the most of our summer. We've had one party after another, or so it seems. It's left very little time for our little family to just be together, something we really enjoy. So, when Ben's boss told him he needed to start using his vacation time and I had 2 days off in a row, we decided we were going to get away. Adelae has been begging to go camping, so camping we shall go!
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<br />You might remember our last camping trip that didn't turn out so great. If not, definitely go read about it, it truly was <a href="http://asthedaysgoby-shaun.blogspot.com/2010/07/trip-that-had-it-all.html">The Trip That Had It All</a> (and then some). But, now we're a year older and a year wiser so we thought we'd try it again.
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<br />I checked the weather radar and there's not a chance of rain, Brinna's old enough to walk by herself, the sand toys are already in the car, and we've packed lots and lots of stuff to do. I'm sure that something will go wrong, things always seem to, but I know that we'll survive and have fun anyway.
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<br />Unknownnoreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4363110763776567881.post-83872135559939780992011-07-14T12:35:00.003-04:002011-07-14T12:52:35.359-04:00The Joys of SummerWhen I was a kid I LOVED summer. I loved the hot weather. I couldn't wait to get out of bed and go hand out with my friends. To me, summer was swimming, bike riding, sleep overs and swinging. I miss those simple little joys. <br /><br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-k4J5wK9Jruk/Th8eFXi6UPI/AAAAAAAAAn8/x1TOuDvUmCY/s1600/270013_10150283307736667_508661666_9212604_6796162_n.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 300px; height: 400px;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-k4J5wK9Jruk/Th8eFXi6UPI/AAAAAAAAAn8/x1TOuDvUmCY/s400/270013_10150283307736667_508661666_9212604_6796162_n.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5629251136805032178" /></a><br /><br />As an adult, I often feel like I have way to many responsibilities to just let go and have fun. There's always something that has to be done. Now that I'm working, there's even more that has to be done in a shorter amount of time. I miss swinging and swimming and laughing so hard my cheeks hurt. I miss playing with wild abandon, not caring how I look or how others perceive me. <br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-RcHNT-4GKYo/Th8a7XskPeI/AAAAAAAAAns/kqq6zwp4U5o/s1600/spinning.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 400px;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-RcHNT-4GKYo/Th8a7XskPeI/AAAAAAAAAns/kqq6zwp4U5o/s400/spinning.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5629247666511953378" /></a><br /><br />So, I've made a decision. I will play like a child. I will relish every single moment I get to spend with my kids. I give so many underdogs and power pushes that my arms are sore. I will run, jump, scream and play. I will laugh until my stomach hurts. I will enjoy the joys of summer, just like I'm a child.<br /><br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-Pyy1K0zK0cI/Th8dewwh1gI/AAAAAAAAAn0/6VHQqvBrOGM/s1600/264921_10150304396611667_508661666_9344031_4444478_n.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 300px;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-Pyy1K0zK0cI/Th8dewwh1gI/AAAAAAAAAn0/6VHQqvBrOGM/s400/264921_10150304396611667_508661666_9344031_4444478_n.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5629250473558136322" /></a><br /><br />Even if I have to do it between loads of laundry.<br /><br /><br /><br />*The two other little girls in the pictures are my nieces, Makayla and Alayna, respectively. The pictures, except for the swing picture, were taken by Stacy Thomas.*Unknownnoreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4363110763776567881.post-60011528921332088742011-07-09T20:21:00.004-04:002011-07-09T20:38:44.243-04:00Trying to find a balanceThe adjustment to my new work schedule has been a bit difficult, to say the least. This is the first steady job I've had since Adelae was born. That's almost 4.5 years. That's a LONG time to be with out a job. A really long time. My part-time job has turned into a 5 day a week job. Not every day is a full day, and that makes it almost harder in some ways. In case you were wondering, working 10-6 is not a good shift. You might think it would be, but it's not. At least I don't enjoy it. <br /><br />I do, however, enjoy my job. I love the people I work with and I enjoy the work. I just haven't quite been able to balance work and home yet. When I get home, I'm so exhausted that I just want to sit and be still. Having 2 young children does not make sitting and being still very easy. And someone still has to cook dinner, clean up dinner, take care of the kids and maybe squeeze in some alone time with my husband. It hasn't been easy.<br /><br />I feel like no matter what I do, something suffers. If I cut back on my hours at work, then Ben has to work overtime to make the money to pay the bills. If I spend more time with my husband, my kids suffer. If I spend more time with my kids, my husband suffers. I feel like I'm being pulled in about 20 different directions at once. Apparently the laundry and dishes still pile up, even if you don't have time to take care of them. It also doesn't help that it's summer. We are always so busy in the summer. We have something going on almost every day of every weekend. It's exhausting. I miss sitting around all day on Saturday and not doing anything. I miss sleeping in and morning cuddles with my girls. <br /><br />I am extremely fortunate though. I have an amazing babysitter. The kids LOVE going to her house. In fact, there are days when I don't work and they STILL ask to go to the sitters. Thanks to her, I'm able to go to work and give my full attention to my job. I don't ever worry that my kids aren't being taken care of. <br /><br />And then there's my husband. When I stayed at home, most of the house cleaning and cooking fell to me. That was my job. I hated it, but it was my job. Since I've started working he's pulled his weight and then some. We've started working on a schedule. On the nights when I come home early, I cook dinner and he does the dishes. On the nights when I come home late, he starts dinner and I do the dishes. I had to work this morning for a few hours. I came home to a pretty clean house, the kids were eating lunch and the dishes were done. He even did a load of his laundry. It was awesome. Especially since a nasty migraine decided to smack me upside the head in my last hour of work. After he spent the morning picking up the house, he went outside and started working on the railing for the slide platform he built a few weeks ago. <br /><br />What did I do? I sat and read on my Nook. I might have even dozed for a little bit. Shh...don't tell. ;) <br /><br />All in all, we're slowly getting into a rhythm. Will will make this work. I have faith that in another month, we'll be like a well oiled machine.<br /><br /><br />At least I hope so.Unknownnoreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4363110763776567881.post-77033120295839083532011-05-25T11:52:00.003-04:002011-05-25T11:56:11.046-04:00Watch out world!After almost 2 years, I'm re-joining the work force! It's only part-time, but it's a job! I feel lucky to have found employment, especially with the economy the way it is. I would say that this means I'll be blogging less, but I rarely blog at all as it is! HA! <br /><br />I know that I should probably be focusing on how the extra money is going to help out with paying the bills and buying the necessary things, but all I can think about is "Do I want a Kindle, a Nook Color, or a tablet of some sort?"Unknownnoreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4363110763776567881.post-87562327858386434512011-04-28T10:05:00.005-04:002011-04-28T10:29:24.184-04:00There are days....when I want to run from the house screaming. There are days when I'm pretty sure if I say "Brinna, NO!" one more time my head will explode. There are days when Adelae is so defiant I have to double check and make sure she hasn't turned into a teenager. There are days when Ben drives me absolutely up the wall. There are days I dream about being on a beach on a tropical island alone. No kids. No husband. No dog. No laundry. No dishes. No chores. Just me, the beach, a cold drink, and maybe a cabana boy thrown in for good measure. <br /><br />There there are days when the girls play so nicely together. There are days when we play Dinosaur Train.<br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-24RWL4X_fkk/Tbl2pAiEYFI/AAAAAAAAAmM/BYW61i1dnO8/s1600/IMG_2859%2Bblog.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 300px; height: 400px;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-24RWL4X_fkk/Tbl2pAiEYFI/AAAAAAAAAmM/BYW61i1dnO8/s400/IMG_2859%2Bblog.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5600638058501529682" /></a><br /><br />Or they work together to "cook" me a fabulous plastic breakfast.<br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-VF-XdPuYtEM/Tbl3gJKwNLI/AAAAAAAAAmU/2LEJ30MCsEg/s1600/IMG_2858%2Bblog.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 300px; height: 400px;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-VF-XdPuYtEM/Tbl3gJKwNLI/AAAAAAAAAmU/2LEJ30MCsEg/s400/IMG_2858%2Bblog.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5600639005712463026" /></a><br /><br />Or they pose together for a quick picture.<br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-5qgDAB6ong8/Tbl4Z2jbU5I/AAAAAAAAAmc/eOkP4zgrhyY/s1600/IMG_2918%2Bblog.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 300px; height: 400px;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-5qgDAB6ong8/Tbl4Z2jbU5I/AAAAAAAAAmc/eOkP4zgrhyY/s400/IMG_2918%2Bblog.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5600639997148091282" /></a><br /><br />There are days when Brinna will climb on my lap, throw her tiny arms around me and proclaim "BIIIG NUNNLES!" (which is Brinna speak for big snuggles) and squeeze me as tight as she can. I live for the unsolicited "I love you Mommy" from Adelae. Or the unprovoked hugs from Ben. <br /><br />When the going gets rough, and believe me it does, I remember those days. <br /><br />However, I'm not totally ruling out a trip to the Caribbean, but maybe I'll take Ben with me. Maybe.Unknownnoreply@blogger.com2