tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-28717617921009537722024-03-14T01:18:37.832-05:00Smiles, Blessings and Freckled FanciesAdeliahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11249175658844761354noreply@blogger.comBlogger316125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2871761792100953772.post-89153693111899976952013-07-19T10:06:00.000-05:002013-07-19T10:06:32.182-05:00LeaningIt has not been a big secret. I'm a fairly open person. My openness likely stems from having been surrounded by too many lies in my life before becoming an adult. I let my life out so that others don't feel quite so alone. Anyway, not a big secret that my life has been difficult and trying for the last year, more like two....But who's counting? {me}<br />
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In that difficulty, I have not always responded the best I could have. No, I have been at the bottom of the mothering and spousal barrel. All of the challenges brought up old issues that I never knew I had or had buried altogether. <br />
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Up welled the issues. Down shot the roots of bitterness. In set the justification. Frustration was my morning brew.<br />
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I could see it happening. It was like looking at a reflection. The ugly girl was setting up residency, the girl who desired to be well and thankful banging on the glass to get out but wasn't strong enough.<br />
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Ugh. That has been my life. Until a month or so ago. I was away at my Nanny's for the Color Me Rad race I was running with T and Hoot when Brett called really excited about some revelations he had. Everything seemed to make sense. Everything was going to be okay. I could get behind this wonderful husband who had this renewed vision, this peace.<br />
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But.<br />
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Yes, there is always a but. But when I came back to my real world, the one of frustration, disappointments, and bitterness...I still struggled. It's hard to change when you are the only component in your world changing. Still facing the same mean and difficult people. Still facing the same disappointments. <br />
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And Brett would encourage, "It doesn't matter. Forgiveness will set you free. God is the justifier, not you."<br />
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And Scripture after Scripture he shares. Slowly, slowly a root loosens. Day by day a wind of clarity gently blows through, blowing away the morning reminders of my frustrations and disappointments.<br />
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And while I'm still not the most solid girl on the block...er...dirt road, I'm getting better. This morning I got up and read Isaiah 12. The Lord is my strength and my song. Even when I want to weep and complain, I have replaced the complaining with the Truth. My flesh fails. My spirit desires more. And onward I move. Seeking the more. Seeking the Truth. Leaning on my husband. Leaning on my Christ. <br />
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<img alt="post signature" class="centered" src="http://i409.photobucket.com/albums/pp178/sneakymomma/sigsbr.png" />Adeliahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11249175658844761354noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2871761792100953772.post-85851944246308901542013-07-17T15:01:00.000-05:002013-07-17T15:01:07.264-05:00And You Get a Gold Star!"Would you like a sticker?" That's what the older gentleman sitting on the stool at Wal-Mart asked all three times that we walked past him. Each time my children shook their heads in unison from side to side while giving him a look that said he was clearly crazy. This is always the case. My kids don't go gah-gah for stickers. I asked Brett why this was and he told me it's because we homeschool. {Well, our style of homeschooling involves little to no stickers. I'm sure there are lots of sticker-y homeschools out there.}<br />
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That made total sense to me. We've never rewarded with stickers. Oh, but Mothering Matters has. And Chick-Fil-A has...I forget to confiscate them on the rare occasion that stickers come into our lives. They inevitably end up on something important...or the truck windows on the third row. What happens on the third row, stays on the third row. I think there are some stickers from like two years ago or something that Hoot put up. One day I was all, "Hey, who did that?!" T-Bird was all, "Um, that's been there forever." -------Third row void-------<br />
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Anyway, I'm not blogging about stickers today. Not that you could tell. No, it's about our chore chart and what rocks our world. Back to school sales are sweeping the stores with all kinds of yumminess and even cool chore charts. Pinterest is a haven of neat-o chore chart ideas. But I usually start something great and let it fall away. I'm a simple girl. I can't handle that kind of awesomeness. And to be honest, it doesn't drive my kids.<br />
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So what does? Expo markers. Lists. Seriously. We've been stream-lining our life in order to run smoothly. Otherwise, this ship is sinking, people. Sinking fast. Brett and I have made a commitment to get ourselves together and be the best darn parents this side of the Mississippi. Or something like that. <br />
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Kids can smell weakness.<br />
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Let's say Momma gets up and starts her day. Then sister #1 needs Momma. Sister #2 realizes this and has an overwhelming need for Momma at the exact same time. Momma settles her girls 30-45 minutes later. What was she doing before? She forgot. Need to take care of brother #2. Brother #2 is sad. Brother #2 is taking it out on everyone. Reset. What was Momma doing? The dog is going nuts. Brother #1, could you go check on that? Where is brother #3? Brother #3?? Any day now kid! Brother #3 eventually and mysteriously appears. What was Momma working on? Now that Momma has lost track of what she was doing she asks all 5 kids to go play outside. Momma has been up for 2 and a half hours and has accomplished nothing yet is exhausted and the house looks like someone threw a rowdy party and suddenly vacated the premises.<br />
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I could spend all day just "mothering" and get nothing accomplished. This has been making me nutty. NUTTY. I have a type A personality. I like to give short and sweet orders. So, if I ask for help with laundry once and the kids ignore me and I ask again and the kids ignore me....If I give a list of things to do and the kids put it off and I tell them again and they run outside...You see, I feel like I'm always barking at them to do things. They get distracted because they are kids and their life is exciting and fun. I needed something that delegated tasks without me barking orders, kept them on track, and allowed us to work together to keep our house running.<br />
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This genius was birthed and our house has never been cleaner and more orderly ever. They love it. They love drawing through the things they've done so far. We have more chores that we do as a family, these are just the bare essentials to make sure we don't fall apart. <br />
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Just a sheet of paper inside of a page protector hung on our fridge. {Life changing} Okay, maybe not life changing but simple and effective.<br />
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And that is what I need my life to be. Simple. Effective.<br />
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How about you?<br />
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Are you a Pinterestingly awesome bells and whistles sort of chore chart person? How do you make your days effective?<br />
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<img alt="post signature" class="centered" src="http://i409.photobucket.com/albums/pp178/sneakymomma/sigsbr.png" />Adeliahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11249175658844761354noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2871761792100953772.post-41940935467957375122013-05-11T20:08:00.001-05:002013-05-11T20:08:55.966-05:00My Thoughts on Mother's DayEleven years ago, a tiny blue bundle made me a first time mother. Little did I know what an impact that would have on my life and that I would go on to give birth four more times. Fives times a mother. <br />
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Five. I assure you, people feel free to tell me I have my hands full every time we clog up a grocery store aisle. <br />
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Then I also have older ladies stop me and say, "Oh, that brings back memories. I had seven. Good for you and bless you."<br />
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When the "boy you have your hands full" people heckle me, I want to say, "No, my hands are not full. I have one baby waiting for me that I never had the chance to meet. I had a surprise pregnancy and a too soon, not fair, why did this happen miscarriage. No, my hands are a little empty. I should be even more tired, more frazzled, more stretched. No, I should be driving a church bus to fit my family into."<br />
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And that is where my thoughts are this Mother's Day. I'm so blessed to be a mother five times over. But my heart weeps for the moms who have not yet been. For the wombs not filled, for the adoptions not fulfilled, for the babies who didn't stick around for us to know. For the women who have their hearts cry to be filled and to be a mother.<br />
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I pray for you. If you only knew just how much I would love to give you a piece of my fertility, infertiles. <br />
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And so as this weekend opens wounds and infertile women avoid the profuse Mother's Day posts on Facebook, I would like to say that you are loved and you are thought of on my mountain top. <br />
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I hope you can find a peace this weekend. That you can be loved as you. That you can love as you, who you are right now. <br />
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<img alt="post signature" class="centered" src="http://i409.photobucket.com/albums/pp178/sneakymomma/sigsbr.png" />Adeliahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11249175658844761354noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2871761792100953772.post-27013319675569438882013-05-03T16:43:00.000-05:002013-05-03T16:43:44.915-05:00The Adventures of MommyMan!I'm just gonna go for it. I'm not going to excuse my non-blogging-ness or talk about how I almost walked away from my blog completely.
Let's just get started. I'm back. And blogging.
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I will talk about how my days seem extremely long. I find a bit of sanity by letting the girls bathe in the kitchen sink. Little Jelly Bean exited early. I had asked T-bird to bring LadyBug some toys. In typical fashion, he brought his old Ben 10 toys for her to play with. That girl played in the sink for over an hour.<br />
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I could hear her saying something. I listened closer and heard, "MommyMan!" <br />
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Who needs to be Super Woman when you can be MommyMan?!<br />
<img alt="post signature" class="centered" src="http://i409.photobucket.com/albums/pp178/sneakymomma/sigsbr.png" />Adeliahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11249175658844761354noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2871761792100953772.post-5859426041214712832013-02-15T15:05:00.001-06:002013-02-15T15:06:38.500-06:00Homeschool Files: Robinhood the Awesome (a writing exercise)Nails on the chalkboard. Did you hear them?<br />
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I usually cringe when it comes to having T-Bird write. You never know where it will lead us. That kid very much so, like, a lot dislikes writing. <br />
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Brett took over the writing portion of our day today. {Cheers to me!}<br />
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I heard T ask his daddy if he could write a rap instead of sentences. See, already trying to not write.<br />
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Brett allowed it for today. Hey, it's Friday, why not!?<br />
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This is what he ended up with.<br />
Complete with picture:<br />
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Ch-ch-change the the cage. <br />
Ya man. The the page got strange and kuz it got huge.<br />
Rage on the stage. <br />
Trace my face so you can see my age.<br />
What.<br />
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by Robinhood the Awesome<br />
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Yes, folks. I don't know what we'll do with our little rapper on the brink of greatness. Wait, I mean, lil rapper. <br />
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Let's not leave out the Professor's writing:<br />
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Bob got a spanking.<br />
Bob was feeling smug.<br />
Bob spit.<br />
Bob itched his scalp.<br />
Bob could smell the smog.<br />
Bob can spell spin.<br />
Bob smacked his mom.<br />
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I think the last sentence may be why Bob got a spanking in the first sentence. He told me he had to keep using Bob as a name because it was part of one story.<br />
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What about Hoot?<br />
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He pulled this out of his hat:<br />
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Pup tossed an egg.<br />
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And then Hoot left the room. As if that sentence was grandiose enough to get him out of anymore sentences. <br />
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I'm going to call this a success.<br />
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<img alt="post signature" class="centered" src="http://i409.photobucket.com/albums/pp178/sneakymomma/sigsbr.png" />Adeliahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11249175658844761354noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2871761792100953772.post-84632200308069991482013-01-29T17:34:00.001-06:002013-01-29T17:34:29.097-06:00Legos. Eat. Sleep. Do It Again.<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">
Oh my word. How behind can one woman be? </div>
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I suppose the answer is...very. Quite. A lot. Behind. </div>
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Here's to catching up. </div>
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We had the opportunity to take the boys to a free little Lego getaway. (in September! September 2012!!) (behind) (so behind) Branson is just up the road. </div>
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We hit the little vacation hole on the last day of its run. Let's here it for homeschooling and being the only people in the building! Woo-hoo!</div>
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I love love love love love this picture. The way The Professor rests his head against the glass. Looking at a whole Lego world, envisioning himself in there. I love it.</div>
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Even sister gets in on Lego action!</div>
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Did you know I am so very in love with her.</div>
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Creations front and center.</div>
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The kids had a blast. I probably didn't need to say that...but...they did. </div>
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Life mantra: Legos. Eat. Sleep. Do it again.</div>
<img alt="post signature" class="centered" src="http://i409.photobucket.com/albums/pp178/sneakymomma/sigsbr.png" />Adeliahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11249175658844761354noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2871761792100953772.post-9589376106631861732012-12-21T11:13:00.001-06:002012-12-21T11:13:45.734-06:00Oil and Water Throw a Bubble PartyIt's a love not so love relationship I have with Arkansas weather. This has been a warm December, and while some are upset by the lack of bone chilling temperatures, I have been thankful for a play outside and enjoy our world mild temperature sort of month.<br />
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I heard a giggle party outside of the front door. When I took a peak, this is what I saw.<br />
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Oil and Water were getting along, er..I mean, Lady Bug and Hoot.<br />
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World's Best Dimple!<br />
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Bubble Dust<br />
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You should have heard the volume of sound that went with these faces.<br />
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Calm<br />
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Crazy<br />
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I see you, too.<br />
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I always say it, I'm so in love with these kids. <br />
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As I look at these pictures, I think of how magical that little moment was. It must have been cosmic magical to them. Childhood makes bubbles bubblier, colors brighter, whisperings whisperier, giggles louder, days last hours longer than an adult's. <br />
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If you become like the 5 people you associate most with.......I am in good company. It's like a second glimpse of childhood. I'm the mother of 5 enjoying my children's journey. Good days. Blessed days.<br />
<img alt="post signature" class="centered" src="http://i409.photobucket.com/albums/pp178/sneakymomma/sigsbr.png" />Adeliahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11249175658844761354noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2871761792100953772.post-34505162676658810372012-11-09T10:12:00.000-06:002012-11-09T10:12:23.775-06:00I Got No RhythmI am a big fan of rhythms. Schedules not so much. And to be honest, we are not only off schedule, but we seem to be out of rhythm as well. We added another baby, Brett lost his job, Brett found a new job, that job was horrible so he found yet another one, we are still in the tiny house awaiting the renovations on the big house, homeschooling, and some other crazy craziness and well...out of ideal rhythm.<br />
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But there are days when I look up, and that non-ideal rhythm is just fine. Then I smile and try to find the sweet joy that this day has to offer. To stop comparing my non-ideal to my mental perfect ideal is perhaps one of the greatest struggles I contend with. <em>This</em> rhythm, <em>this</em> crazy is just fine, a season to enjoy. A time to breathe and embrace the gifts that today offers while still hoping for a wonderful tomorrow. A balance to not compare. <br />
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This is what I see when I look up. The Professor in his rhythm. Reading can only be done on momma's bed. Only. No exceptions. Ever.<br />
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And even if this is the only rhythm we have right now, I'll take it. What a beautiful piece of our life. <br />
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O satisfy us in the morning with Your lovingkindness, That we may sing for joy and be glad all our days. Psalm 90:14<br />
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And is anyone else singing Johnny Cash's <em>Get Rhythm</em>? No, just me, huh? <em>Get rhythm, when you get the blues. Ya, get rhythm when you get the blues......</em><br />
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<img alt="post signature" class="centered" src="http://i409.photobucket.com/albums/pp178/sneakymomma/sigsbr.png" />Adeliahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11249175658844761354noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2871761792100953772.post-28805808795016854122012-08-31T12:50:00.001-05:002012-08-31T12:50:22.663-05:00When Parenting StinksThere are times when it just stinks to be a parent. <br />
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These little eggs represent a moment like that. A moment when I didn't want to be a parent.<br />
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Aren't those beautiful eggs?<br />
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My T is a nature watcher. He had been watching some Eastern Bluebirds for some time. In his bird watching, he notice they kept flying into and out of a post. He came running into the house one day, his face flushed with excitement. <br />
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"Momma, I have to show you something wonderful."<br />
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He hurried over to our fence post and told me to look into the hollowed out post.<br />
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This unassuming post held that sweet little nest and blue eggs. <br />
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T was thrilled to serve as grandfather to those eggs. He monitored them and gave me daily reports.<br />
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Then horror struck. <br />
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As we pulled up into our drive after taking the boys to swim practice, we noticed the contracted electric company in the field behind our house. A man with a bit of a Danny Bonaduce look about him met me at my truck as I was pulling out kids.<br />
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"We have your electric off for a minute while we reset the pole. We had to pull around your car in front of the gate and knocked over your post but we reset that."<br />
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Panic. Panic. Panic.<br />
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"Which fence post? Please not the tree post?"<br />
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"Ya, but we reset that."<br />
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"No, no, no. That had a nest with new eggs in it. My son has been watching them."<br />
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"Ah, sorry to hear about that." And he walked away chewing on his toothpick.<br />
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T took off running to the fence. The nest was there but no eggs. We began searching the field. No eggs. No eggs. Search. No eggs. No eggs. <br />
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Where did they go?<br />
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We held each other and cried. Then we prayed for the birds knowing they are not human but that they do feel loss. Then we talked about life circles and moving on.<br />
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We also hypothesized about where the eggs were. Did the birds pick them up? We kept seeing the birds go in and out. Were they harvesting their materials for their new nest?<br />
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Here's the deal. I have a crazy life that I grew up with. I never learned to cope with anything. I just tucked things away or fixed them. Ya, that works for a while. Until your early 20's and you have a breakdown. Oh, that was just me? My biggest parenting cause is to teach my kids coping mechanisms. I will not allow them to wallow in sorrow or ignore it. There is a balance. There is a process. And that is what we started working on.<br />
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We discovered that Eastern Bluebirds will lay another set of eggs each year. We were hopeful that the nest of eggs lost was their first set.<br />
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T would come in and tell me daily about how the birds seemed very upset. His own face reflecting deep sadness.<br />
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Fast forward two weeks. I was sitting on the swing on our front porch talking to my mom on the phone when I noticed Mr and Mrs Bluebird hustling in and out of the post. Something seemed suspicious. Not the usual activity.<br />
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Honestly, I was nervous about looking into their little hole.<br />
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But I did.<br />
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Then I yelled.<br />
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And quickly ran to get Tristan.<br />
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All the while forgetting that my mom was being held in my hand.<br />
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I told Tristan to look inside.<br />
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Here, experience it with him.<br />
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Double take. Closer look. For real.<br />
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A BABY BIRD!!! And eggs under it! How in the world??? I don't know, but we are so thankful and thrilled.</div>
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T's fight with the electric company was not over. He made a sign that read: Do Not Disturb. Baby Birds Growing. And then provided an illustration of the consequences. Electric men being attacked by birds. </div>
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Brett thought we were a bit extreme assuring us that the electric company was finished with us and had moved down the line. Haha, we had the last laugh. The very day the sign was posted, they came back. They read the sign. They did tread lightly. </div>
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Granddaddy T was looking out for his baby bird. </div>
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But some moments are like that. Stinky, sad, hide under the covers sort of moments. Then sometimes they are made right. Glorious, happy, shout from the mountaintop sort of moments. And that's a good summation of parenting in general.</div>
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We fight the good fight. No matter the day. We parent on. We love. We teach. We embrace. Day after day.</div>
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{Bonus Game} My brain is fried. I'm the mom to 5 kids. Two being 19 mos and 3 mos. I barely sleep. I spelled yous for use, fas for face, and setting for sitting. These are the ones I noticed and corrected. But for your entertainment and enjoyment, feel free to notice my other brain slips. I did it for you. {Just go with it, will you?}</div>
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<img alt="post signature" class="centered" src="http://i409.photobucket.com/albums/pp178/sneakymomma/sigsbr.png" />Adeliahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11249175658844761354noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2871761792100953772.post-59465479770943135962012-08-01T17:43:00.000-05:002012-08-01T19:20:04.056-05:00Keeping CoolI know it's a little redundant to say it's hot, but, <i>It's HOT! </i>...and ...dry.<br />
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Our creeks are all dried up and we had a little (read, almost 3 weeks with no water) water issue so, no pool. What do you do when it's so hot? Well, you play in the shade in the early morning for one.<br />
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Meet Oil and Water. These two are so funny. Lady Bug mostly yells at her brother Hoot. He infuriates her. She will be in the car seat asleep, he is sitting behind her. She will wake up yelling his name, even though he is doing absolutely nothing to her. <br />
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Okay, this one made me laugh. I moved her toothbrush because it was just sitting on the counter. {Hello, GERMS!} She came into the bathroom with me. I noticed her spin her head this way and that. She then put her hands up and asked, "Where brush?" I told her a simple, "No." I just didn't feel like dealing with the 30 plus minute brush-a-thon she is capable of. The girl looked out of the corner of her eyes and in that <i>I knew it my old nemesis</i> sort of voice said, "Hooooot." {Of course she said his real name, but you get it.} Sweet boy, I feel for him. <br />
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When not yelling and bossing him, she follows and mimics everything he does. <br />
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Why wouldn't you wear winter pj's under a Luigi costume in 100 degrees of heat??!<br />
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She found her cool spot. It's the same place our dog lays. The dirt is dug out a little here. Okay, I love her. Bossy or not.<br />
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Then you have this kid who just hangs out and talks to me about important 10 yr old stuff. Like how it would be easy to be a real life Batman or Tony Stark--Iron Man. You just need money, science and gadgetry. He's working out the details on a real life Captain America, and according to T, it starts with an organic diet. A real life Captain America would have to be super healthy.<br />
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Back to Oil. She seems to have the same relationship with her baby sister, who we will call Jelly Bean, as she does with Hoot. That girl loves her sister. Loves her so much, it is a little overwhelming to Jelly Bean.</div>
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But what's a 12 wk old to do but grin or whimper and endure the love.</div>
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Still playing in the shade. Hillbilly pool. If I still lived on the flat land terrain, I would say Red Neck. For today's purposes, we'll say Hillbilly. Hillbilly pool. Hillbilly fun.</div>
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Soooo, my new baby was supposed to be born in this tub loaned to me from a friend. One baby has been born in it, dozens of kids have played in and out of it, slime for VBS has been mixed in it, we attempted to birth a baby in it {another story, another time}, it has been filled with water during our no water stint, and now my kids are using it as a pool to cool off during this horrendous summer until we return it to its rightful owners. It is a good tub with a good story.</div>
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You can tell the rowdy bunch from the solo not so rowdy. <br />
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For now, we will just try to keep cool in our neck of the woods, er, mountain. Dry and hot as it is, it is still beautiful.<br />
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<img alt="post signature" class="centered" src="http://i409.photobucket.com/albums/pp178/sneakymomma/sigsbr.png" />Adeliahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11249175658844761354noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2871761792100953772.post-59808007293554881742012-05-05T09:36:00.000-05:002012-05-05T09:36:20.319-05:00Lazy Days<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">
The lazy days are here. We finished school a couple of weeks ago in anticipation of the baby. The weather has been just lovely. As we are on baby watch, we have to stay close to home out of concern that I could go into labor in a cell phone dead area. Much of our days are spent outside under the shade tree or on the porch. It's a simple kind of wonderful.</div>
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Hoot plays with his Lincoln Logs and Army Men. He's making battle sounds and T laughs behind him. <br />
Lady Bug relaxes on her ball.<br />
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This Little Guy crawled up my leg.<br />
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She does have hair! If you are wanting to replicate her style, you'll have to use a special product...Water...Out of the dog bowl...Her head smelled terrible.<br />
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I love the shadow of her strange little toes.<br />
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The Professor and one of his super powers.<br />
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I walked onto the porch and found this. She was half asleep half awake holding a nerf gun. She has no chance of being super girly.<br />
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Across the way, he was half asleep half awake as well. With a clothes pin attached to his lower lip.<br />
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Never mind, she's not going to sleep.<br />
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Oh my gracious, I love this kid.<br />
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<img alt="post signature" class="centered" src="http://i409.photobucket.com/albums/pp178/sneakymomma/sigsbr.png" />Adeliahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11249175658844761354noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2871761792100953772.post-64900858489910992352012-04-30T14:36:00.000-05:002012-04-30T14:36:18.165-05:00Belly ViewsBrett has been teasing me lately that my body is no longer my own. He describes me as being a belly, like my belly leads me wherever. If he is sitting on the couch and I'm walking toward him, he laughs and says he feels like a torpedo is coming at him. Yes, my belly is here. Just for a little while longer, but it is definitely here. <br />
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I realize most of the views are really being seen from my belly. Here are the views it took in on our baby appointment day:<br />
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On the way to our midwife's house we took the boys to the Buffalo. <br />
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T just had to jump off the bridge. <br />
He couldn't stand it. <br />
I finally said yes. <br />
It's one of his favorite things to do. <br />
He's looking forward to jumping off of bluffs this summer.<br />
I'm not sure I am...<br />
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At our midwife's house, the kids usually chase her chickens (which we have to stop) as well as pet and feed her horse and goats. This time they chased and caught a lizard.<br />
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Okay, okay. So this is what I've been wanting to capture. I love how my whole family comes into the room to hear the baby and find out our measurements. I have been forgetting my camera for weeks. I was hoping to catch it before the baby gets here. Here are the best belly views!<br />
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I love the serious looks as my midwife talks baby technicalities.<br />
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Oh my goodness, what a beautiful view. Party of 7 coming soon!!!!!<br />
<img alt="post signature" class="centered" src="http://i409.photobucket.com/albums/pp178/sneakymomma/sigsbr.png" />Adeliahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11249175658844761354noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2871761792100953772.post-15238822747651839162012-04-25T15:47:00.000-05:002012-04-25T15:47:53.436-05:00As It Turns Out...I Really Am PregnantI know, I know. I thought I was imagining it too. But here I sit at 39 weeks expecting my 5th baby. Yep, this is really happening. <br />
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Only over the last few weeks or maybe even couple of months have I been able to focus on being pregnant. There was just so much going on from the beginning. I'm finally coming up for breath and most of life is calm right now. Exhale. {If you have ever heard Baron Baptiste say exhale, that's what I just said and did.}<br />
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I've reached that point in this incubation where movement has become cumbersome, where I am fatigued and have 4 lovely children to tend during the day. I look forward to getting this baby out but find myself weeping knowing that there will likely never be another baby in my womb again. {okay, 'nuff of that--the weeping is beginning}<br />
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I'm swinging on a pendulum. As I swing, I move through various thoughts:<br />
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<li>Oh my goodness gracious, I'm pregnant with my 5th kid and I don't want this to end!</li>
<li>Oh my goodness gracious, I'm pregnant with my 5th kid and can't wait to meet this baby!</li>
<li>Oh my goodness gracious, I'm so pregnant that I can't move my left leg!</li>
<li>Oh my goodness gracious, I don't want to be pregnant again! </li>
<li>Oh my goodness gracious, could we do 6?</li>
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Those are just some of the thoughts. Yes, each does begin with <i>oh my goodness gracious</i>.</div>
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I have been having warm up contractions since the end of 36 weeks. It's exciting that my body is showing signs that it will do it's job. Of course it will! Still nice to see it doing its thing. </div>
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We are as ready as it gets to have our home birth. My birth kit arrived at 36 weeks. A birth kit consists of all the things you need besides instruments, which the midwife has and brings, that you will need for labor, birth and postpartum care. Underpads, antiseptics, plastic sheets, ob pads, gloves, herbal bath, birth certificate, baby foot printer, lancet for PKU test (if you want), bulb syringe, baby hat...The list goes on and on. The beauty is that your midwife usually has a kit set up with what she likes and you can add to it and adjust it as you like and need.</div>
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My little birth cabinet is set up. I have a basket for my care, a basket for my midwife, a basket for baby and a bag for all the stuff after our herbal bath with our nicest softest towels in it and clothes to feel all yummy in as we spend our first few hours together. Our birth tub is at the ready as well. </div>
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Mentally and spiritually, I've been getting that together too. I have my bedding set to the side for after we have our bath. Bedding set to the side for any friends or family who stay the night. Trying to keep my cabinet well stocked for a crock pot meal that I can toss in when labor starts. I have some herbal teas ready for after baby arrives. I made some "ice pads" for perineal care. I made a tea out of comfrey and added it with some witch hazel to a few pads and put them in the freezer. That will be soothing for any post delivery soreness. </div>
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We are go for BABY! Once the baby gets here I have some funds set to the side to get this baby some blue or pink. I only have a handful of gender neutral clothing. I didn't want to spend all that money on ugly clothes. Believe me, some of it is just ugly. I picked out the cream of the crop. Did you know they don't just make plain white sock packages? You get white socks in pink or blue packs but not by themselves, unless you are giving birth to a child like Fred Flintstone. If so, you can pick up socks for him at Carter's. Ginormous "newborn" white socks! </div>
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As the days grow closer, not knowing the baby's gender has made me a little nutty. That nesting really kicks in and you like to have your ducks in a row. Oh well. I know when we are the first to really <i>see</i> and announce who our baby is it will be an amazing, new feeling. </div>
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The boys are super excited and declaring this baby a girl. I always follow up their girl proclamation with, "Well...it could be a boy." The Professor usually becomes thoroughly miffed after that. However, I've finally worn the boy down. After giving me good night love and rubbing the baby in my belly, he said, "Good night.......(pause.......pause).......question mark baby." Phew. He finally released it. Boy or girl. This kid is going to be wonderful. </div>
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We have a name we are using for both boy and girl. For girl, it might be the middle name, we are still on the fence. It's amazing how much knowing your baby's gender plays into your thoughts and naming. We have a first name for a boy but no middle name. We also have no intentions of figuring it out until he arrives...if it is a he. Knowing boy or girl, you start to formulate ideas of who he or she is, who he or she will be. Having that stay open and unknown really is an interesting experience for us. </div>
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Okay, Little Baby, who are you and when ya comin'?</div>
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<img alt="post signature" class="centered" src="http://i409.photobucket.com/albums/pp178/sneakymomma/sigsbr.png" />Adeliahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11249175658844761354noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2871761792100953772.post-81050746425792571062012-03-28T11:25:00.000-05:002012-03-28T11:25:59.442-05:00First Wishes<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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<img alt="post signature" class="centered" src="http://i409.photobucket.com/albums/pp178/sneakymomma/sigsbr.png" />Adeliahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11249175658844761354noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2871761792100953772.post-80820958709099144262012-03-21T15:04:00.000-05:002012-03-21T15:04:59.891-05:00Babies Don't KeepI have a to do list. Sometimes it's written down in a proper list, often it's in my calendar and for sure it's in my head. My to do list is endless. It will never be completely finished. Ever. EVER. Right now, I have so much to do. However, I've been getting these special times with Lady Bug that I've not had in so long, maybe ever, and I find myself completely ignoring my to do list.<br />
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You see, T-Bird was a squiggly, squirmy kid too busy to be held. You can imagine my joy when the Professor arrived and he loved to be held and cuddled. Hoot was lovey but wanted his personal space or just his Daddy. I joke that I was just his milk maid. He only wanted me when he needed me. Lady Bug liked to be held, but she was so tiny. It's like we didn't fit properly. I don't know how to explain it. You know how you snuggle and you fit like puzzle pieces, I never got that with her.<br />
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All that has changed as of late, I'll find us in the wee morning hours snuggled perfectly together. Her sweet face so close to mine. I have to resist kissing her all over. Her "chubby" {chubby is a relative term for Lady Bug--chubby for her} little arm rests sweetly against my chest as her hand holds my neck. We fit! <br />
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Today, I rocked her to sleep. Her belly keeping my baby belly warm. I rocked in my orange chair, my favorite chair. I decided to lay my head back and forget the dishes. I found myself nodding off...zzzz...It was lovely. And then I heard, "Did anybody call for an assassin? Heh. Heh. Heh." Lego castle play was pretty intense in the background. There I sat, rocking my baby, eyes closed, listening to the intensity of Lego world. {I really need to keep a transcript of Lego play in my house.} <br />
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I don't know how long this will last especially with a new baby on the way. I do know that I'll not regret holding her instead of mopping the floor. You know when I'm seventy years old, I'll not lament all the days I missed of mopping and dishes or living out of laundry baskets instead of having everything neatly tucked away. I'll smile with a sweet memory of holding my baby. And it will be worth it because <b>Babies Don't Keep</b>.<br />
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download available from <a href="http://laybabylay.com/downloads/page/2/" target="_blank">laybabylay</a></div>
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<img alt="post signature" class="centered" src="http://i409.photobucket.com/albums/pp178/sneakymomma/sigsbr.png" />Adeliahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11249175658844761354noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2871761792100953772.post-85935564912668713462012-03-12T14:33:00.000-05:002012-03-12T14:33:25.687-05:00Kiddo WatchingDo you ever just stop and truly see what is going on in your world? One of my favorite things to do is just to video my kids being themselves. The camera is just on. There is no "hey do that again, I want to video it." It's just them being them. Capturing their little quirks and habits. Very enlightening and entertaining.<br />
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T-Bird and I just enjoyed one of those moments. We were finishing lunch and our lunch time story. Hoot ran into the bathroom. The Professor and Lady Bug were in the living room. I realized that Hoot was knocking from inside the bathroom. I said, "Yes?" He opened the door and he was sitting on the towel rack like a little bird just smiling. What was he doing in there? Then T and I looked at the Professor and Lady Bug. Professor X was laying over the side of the couch arm with a slinky singing in his big voice a slinky song he made up himself. Lady Bug stripped out of her clothes and noticed she drooled on herself. She made a wrinkled up nose, poochy lip face and rubbed the drool into her chest. T-Bird was laughing his <i>I'm loosing it</i> laugh while hitting my arm. "What is going on with these kids, Momma?" He didn't realize that I had also been watching him and seeing the joy that just radiates from him. <br />
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What's going on with these kids? Awesomeness. They are just wonderful. I'm thankful to see<i> them</i> <i>be them</i> and realize they are unscripted weirdos. I love it.<br />
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Look at your babies today and notice their quirky awesomeness.<br />
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<img alt="post signature" class="centered" src="http://i409.photobucket.com/albums/pp178/sneakymomma/sigsbr.png" />Adeliahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11249175658844761354noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2871761792100953772.post-9355132948757113172012-02-23T12:24:00.001-06:002012-02-23T16:31:21.620-06:00A Look at Our Bare Bones ScheduleToday is just too wonderful. We're definitely enjoying this spring-like weather on a fine winter's day. <br />
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The last month was not so wonderful because it brought us the plague. I burned the bedding and scrubbed the family down. I kid, not the real plague. And I didn't burn the bedding...yet. Appears as though it has left us for good. However, when you shut down for the plague, life throws up on you. That's where I found myself this past weekend. How do you even begin to recover from that?<br />
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Our house was not a disaster as far as housekeeping goes. {Praise God} But we were behind in life. The most glaring piece of life we were behind in was homeschooling. Ugh. I would like for us to be done by the last week of April since this baby is due the first week of May or so. You can see why taking the majority of three weeks off is slightly devastating--otherwise, I wouldn't care at all. <br />
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The best way to start is to...start. Brett and I had a small amount of time together this past weekend. We made some goals and I scribbled out a bare bones schedule. No frills. We can add frills if we can stick with the bare bones idea.<br />
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So far so good. We're on day 4 without any real deviations, so perhaps this will get us through the school year. <br />
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Some recently wanted to know what this schedule looked like, so here it is:<br />
<u>Bare Bones Schedule for a crazy, wonderful homeschooling family of a 9 yr old, 6 yr old, 5 yr old and a 14 month old</u><br />
This schedule is similar to what we've always done. I've taken out some expectations and theme days and such. <br />
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<li>My kids wake up and either come to my room to snuggle and watch the sunrise, or they have a quiet activity they start on. </li>
<li>7:30 Breakfast. We have breakfast by the light of an oil lamp. The kids love it and it seems to be so soothing to our day. This is also the time that we read Scripture and do a devotional. Sometimes I have dinner prep that I can do at this time. We clean up the table and put dishes away.</li>
<li>8:15 Dressed and ready for day. The boys have a time of play while I get dressed and do a quick wipe down of the bathroom.</li>
<li>8:40 Math for T-Bird. Reading and phonics for Professor X and Hoot. Lady Bug is a drifter during this time bouncing from her toys to her cup and to us.</li>
<li>9:10 Reading, language arts for T. Math for the Professor. Hoot either does an educational something or a hands on activity.</li>
<li>9:40 Snack. While the kids snack. I read out of our chapter book.</li>
<li>10:00 History or Science. We only do a couple of lessons a week of each. For the rest of the week, we keep up our notebook, do observations (science) and hands on activities relating to our lessons from the week. (Lady Bug often takes a nap around this time, but not always)</li>
<li>11:00 Play and help set the table for lunch. Sometimes this play is a specific activity, but often it's legos or outdoor play. During lunch prep I also try to do any dinner prep that will make my life easier if I didn't do it at breakfast. Lunch is the time that I've been addressing and practicing a specific manner and etiquette. Last week's manner was just stinking saying "Hello, So and So." My kids often just stare at people without even offering a full greeting. Geez Louise.</li>
<li>12:30 Flashcards, review, fun learning activity</li>
<li>1:00 This time is unstructured, but all these things get accomplished in no particular order: Art or adventure. Walk (depending on the weather). Snack. Lady Bug takes a nap. Quick clean on house. 2 loads of laundry. Read with kids individually.</li>
<li>5:30 Dinner. This is the only meal that we are quiet. I know that is contrary to everything out there about family bonding and all that jazz, but I have found that we need quiet. Dinner has proven to be a wonderful time for that. We do talk. Good grief, I'm not a Nazi. But it's a natural, quiet flow. This is a good opportunity for Brett to transition from work mode to family mode. </li>
<li>6:30 Dinner clean up. Time with Dad and baths begin.</li>
<li>7:30 Bedtime story. Prayers. </li>
<li>7:45 Boys in bed. Brett and I have time together and then time to read for each of us.</li>
<li>After this, we get things ready for the next day. I get the kids' water cups ready for the next day and sharpen pencils (we break way too many, I've started making them buy their own). </li>
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The times for school are just guides. Sometimes it takes longer, sometimes we are done by 10 just because the kids woke up earlier and were more eager. Tuesday and Thursday will become our busy days with swim practice coming up. We took out Latin because it's a frill we can get to later, perhaps a summer lesson? We are schooling on Saturdays for a while to get caught up. I didn't really include how we handle Lady Bug. She's just part of the group. Perhaps that makes complete sense to another mother of multiple children.<br />
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If anything, a schedule has to be flexible. I've learned to not get my undergarments in a twist whether things go smashingly or life sends the plague.<br />
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<img alt="post signature" class="centered" src="http://i409.photobucket.com/albums/pp178/sneakymomma/sigsbr.png" />Adeliahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11249175658844761354noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2871761792100953772.post-27813793897009445372011-12-22T07:52:00.000-06:002011-12-22T07:52:09.975-06:00Mountaineering: A Pictorial Review<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
It seems as though I don't post any pictures any longer. I've just been lazy. This is a pictorial review of what are life looks like since we moved to the mountains in September. These pictures truly illustrate the "why" behind our move. Our boys' lives are full of ingenuity and newness everyday. Boys need sticks and rocks and trees.</div>
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T-Bird has become a master at catching critters. It took him a few days to be able to catch lizards at will, but he has it down pat now.</div>
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Professor X is illustrating how low the Air Force jet was when it flew over. The Air Force uses these mountains and valleys for training. One minute peaceful and the next there is a jet or plane so close overhead it seems you could touch it. My boys love it.</div>
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The kids come into my room every morning and we open the window to watch the sun rise. I treasure these morning moments with them.</div>
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Hoot giving an Air Force account.</div>
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Lots of hiking.</div>
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Lady Bug's favorite meal...rocks...</div>
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Mountain Baby.</div>
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It happens.</div>
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Lots of teepee making.</div>
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Hoot found a "skateboard".</div>
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It snew! {past tense for snow. use it. enjoy it. snew!}</div>
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Despite seeing elk nearly always, we are still easily impressed by them.</div>
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Snow baby with a fresh cut from jumping off the counter and landing into the table. Gag. That's a story for another time.</div>
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Building their first fire at our Red House for s'mores and hot dogs. The snow had already melted on this side of the mountain.</div>
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Blurry picture, but they were making torches.</div>
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This is why I get little blogging done. Lady Bug sits on my desk and types away with me. I call her my little bird.</div>
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Shoveling snow ONTO the walk. Seriousl, kid?</div>
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Our snow lasted for over a week! Fun start to December!</div>
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<br /></div>Adeliahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11249175658844761354noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2871761792100953772.post-58721319441353225102011-12-20T07:41:00.000-06:002011-12-20T12:06:30.539-06:00Alaina's Birth. A Home Birth. Our Story.Well, after a year and 3 days I'm finally writing Alaina's birth story. At first, I wanted to keep it to myself. I would <i>tell</i> you our story, but I wasn't ready to write it. Then it became a time thing. Then an I need to edit and enhance my photos thing. Then an energy thing. Then an Alaina won't stay off my hip or out of my lap thing. So, here it is. Perhaps not as refined as I would have liked and still no photo editing, but it is finally here. <br />
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Let's get to the warning:<br />
**Warning: This post is about the labor and birth of a baby. After careful thought, I have decided to post all the details of our day. All pictures should be okay by every one's standards but we did have a couple of pieces of conversation that may offend some and is not of the usual content here. Read at your own risk and do not judge.****Next warning: This is our story, please be kind. Every woman's birth story is amazing whether birthed at home naturally, in the hospital or through your nose. Just enjoy our journey as we did.**<br />
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Alaina's birth was to be our fourth delivery. Previously, we had our babies in the hospital, however we were lead down another path with this baby. A path that was unfamiliar to us but it was also somehow a welcome, comfortable path. A home birth. I had expected to be terrified to have my baby at home, but the moment came and fear never even entered into my being. I attribute this to educating myself by devouring everything out there about birth and lots of prayer. {Click <a href="http://smilesandblessings.blogspot.com/2011/11/why-i-chose-home-birth.html" target="_blank">HERE</a> to read about why we chose home birth}<br />
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Around 3 a.m. that Thursday morning, I was awakened by a wet feeling. I knew immediately that familiar sensation--I was loosing my mucous plug--the signal for me as in my two previous labors that baby was arriving that day. <br />
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I gave Brett a nudge to give him a heads up of what his day was going to look like. As much as I wanted to rest, I could not. I took my pillows and headed to the living room and watched a movie with my rump in the air and swaying my hips through the mild contractions. I was hoping early labor would stretch out a bit. I had some ducks to get in a row.<br />
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My mind was a little overwhelmed. My friends who were taking the boys during labor said Thursday was a bad day for them. I called my midwife at 8 a.m. and asked if she had anything special going on for the day and she said, "Uh, I do now" and we both laughed. She had some massages scheduled and let me know to call her when I was ready and she would go forward with them unless notified. <br />
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Brett went on to work. I reached my friends and we worked out a plan for the boys. My contractions seemed to regulate a bit more. I did laundry and vacuumed. My midwife called to check in on me off and on. Around 10 a.m. I called Brett to ask him to come home. I didn't want to be alone. He was slightly thrilled that I called him home. I was laying down when he came in and said, "So, what? You wanna have sex?" And then we both laughed hysterically. {Perhaps that's not funny to anyone else, but it was extremely funny to us}<br />
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He went on and gathered the boys. They began putting up the birthing tub and filling it. Boys, men--they need a project and this was a perfect way for them to be involved. Tristan, Alex and Isaac finished helping and then we fed everyone lunch. By this time my contractions were mostly gone. Maybe one every 15 or 20 minutes and were just twinges. I think this was my body, my mind preventing full labor. I wasn't ready. The boys were still there, my mom couldn't leave work yet and my midwife had massages {that she would have left, but that I wanted her to be able to finish}. I was also reeeeaaallly excited. I think all that helped slow things down.<br />
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My very loved friend and new midwife apprentice, Dana, offered to come by and sit with me if I wanted her to do so. She came in just as my friends, Pete and Jill, came to get the boys for an afternoon of fun. Okay, the boys were off, so let's have a baby! Except, where did my contractions go? I told Dana how they were tapering off then mentioned my husband's crude humor when he came home from work. We laughed and then she said, "You know, that's not a bad idea." After a bit of discussing the benefits, we decided to give it a try. She said she had to run some errands and would be back later. To call if we needed anything. I went to Brett and told him I had decided to take him up on his previous offer. He was shocked but willing. <br />
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I am telling you. As soon as our time together was over, I went to the bathroom, sat down and began having contractions. I said, "Um, Brett, call everyone, I've just had 3 contractions back to back. And by contractions, I mean <i>contractions</i>." <br />
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This was around 3 p.m. Brett was in the kitchen tooling around doing this and that to make life more comfortable for me. I slipped into the birthing tub and was just enjoying this time alone with my husband. He had Jack Johnson's Brushfire Fairytales on for me and had tied a pillow case with an ice pack to the handle on the pool to make it easy for me to grab if I needed it. He had my water and a bowl in case I needed to throw up ready. It was such a sweet time of us just hanging out being together. Him and me and a baby on the way. We had a time of prayer together, to pray in agreement. Precious.<br />
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Yes, I gave birth in my kids "schoolroom". </div>
My midwife and her apprentice arrived around 3:30. She checked me and I was at a 6!! A 6! I have never been at a 6 without an epidural! Are you kidding me? I was in a pool of water laughing and enjoying all that was going on, never dreaming I was at a 6! I was having difficulty regulating my breathing through contractions and my midwife's apprentice helped me and then we were good again. My mom arrived shortly after. Okay, now we really can have a baby! <br />
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I stayed in a knee-lean over the side position while swaying my hips the whole time. That was what was comfortable to me so that's what I did. My focus stayed on keeping everything open down low and not tightening up. {I'll go ahead and say it, I did awesome where this was concerned. Much to my surprise.} I kept my sounds low except for at one point I let out a little shriek and my midwife gently said, "Ah, keep it low." And we were back on track again.<br />
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Here and there I would take a sip of water or a crunch of ice. My midwife walked over to me, cut a slice of apple and gave it to me. My midwife and her apprentice sat at my kitchen table, took notes ate some lasagna and chicken pot pie from my fridge, whispered occasionally. Everyone was just kind of hanging out letting me do my thing.<br />
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Around 4:30 p.m. my contractions became intense. I felt out of sorts, like I was not in control. They were just so strong and difficult. I let my midwife know that I thought I was loosing my grip on this, and she said I was fine to just go with it. I let out a hearty "Argh" and the room erupted in laughter. In my attempt not to curse, I ended up sounding like a pirate. During this time, Brett is applying hot packs from the crock pot to my low back while pressing really hard. {I had bruises the next day and he was so upset, but I asked him and needed him to press that hard} Dana was running her hands over my shoulders and neck while I held my mom's hand. <br />
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This is my midwife and Brett serving me.</div>
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Dana and Mom. Me with my head on my ice pack pillow case.</div>
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The Forehead Press</div>
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I started feeling really nauseated around 4:50 and my midwife gave my a homeopathic something to hold under my tongue and it helped greatly. My labor intensified and my moans became louder. It's at this point that the world around me disappeared. In my mind it was just Brett and me. I pressed my head into his and he was awesome. It's like he knew I needed him to press back with equal measure. I would bite his shirt and pull backwards through contractions. I was hoping I was not biting him but also didn't have the extra resolve to care if I was or not. He was just there for me, letting me use him. Gosh, I love that guy. <br />
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I did not want to curse in my labor. But, oh my goodness, how I wanted to. I had my head down and looked up to see Dana's face. "DANA, DANA" I said in the most low and gutteral, horrible way. And with each Dana, she said in such a sweet way, "Yes?" "Yes." Oh, nothing. Just saying your name...and loosing it a bit.<br />
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Just when the contractions got so intense I thought that I would break, they would release me. My midwife only checked me twice. Once when I was a 6 and again at 8. She said I would be pushing soon. I know she was monitoring me, my sounds, my movements--it was just neat to have that kind of care and observance.<br />
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I said I felt like pushing. My midwife said to give it a go. "But what if I'm not fully dilated?" She said, "Give a tiny push, if it hurts stop and don't do it again for a while." I gave a push and it felt good. I had prayed for my water to stay intact until the last. I had been giving little pushes and then felt my water break. I told the room it just happened. My midwife's apprentice said, "Are you sure? That's the cleanest water I've seen. Oh, yep, it did break." {somehow I have a sense of pride about having the cleanest water she'd ever seen--haha} The lights were low and they had these little flashlights in the water. Being late fall, the sun sets around 5:30. We were just after 5 p.m.<br />
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I was so concerned about pausing and letting the baby be born slowly, I had even asked for them to remind me. I gave a good push and Alaina's head began to peep and with one more push the baby's head and rest of the body was in the water! What? I had intended to flip over to catch my baby. This kid just swam out. And truly, that's what it felt like. One moment I was full and pushing, the next a sweet relief washed over me. The baby was out. Alaina Corrine was born at 5:23 p.m.<br />
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Sweet relief, yet a grimace from the after birth contractions</div>
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Laughing at my snorting baby girl.</div>
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I love this picture. Because I know my husband and was there, I know he's teary {like all our baby births}, I'm explaining I'm happy but distracted by the annoying after birth contractions still, and Dana is laughing and enjoying it all.</div>
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The towels had just been put in to warm and now they were being taken out just seconds after being put in. This girl wanted out. I flipped over and held my baby. She was so alert, raised her little head and starting snorting and sucking her hand. I was trying to concentrate on her preciousness, but I was having difficult contractions leading up to the placenta being expelled. We waited for around 30 minutes for that thing. I was in a lot of pain. These type of contractions are annoying. They hurt and don't give a baby. It's the placenta. Important. But annoying. My midwife finally gave me another homeopathic something and moments later my placenta was out. We delayed cord clamping of course. <br />
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Once all that was taken care of, we were off to bed to transition and then Alaina and I enjoyed a bath together. Well, I enjoyed it. She wanted to nurse and could care less about our herbal bath. <br />
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Baby inspection.</div>
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My best friend with my baby.</div>
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Dana did mention that when I said her name as I did that she knew I was really cussing. Well, ya, I guess so. But what are best friends for?<br />
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Shortly afterward, we called for the boys to come home. They walked in knowing we had a girl and not liking it. Then seeing her, they became hers forever. My sweet family. All together.<br />
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That's our Laina Baby Story.</div>
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The hardest and easiest thing I've ever done in my life.</div>
<img alt="post signature" class="centered" src="http://i409.photobucket.com/albums/pp178/sneakymomma/sigsbr.png" />Adeliahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11249175658844761354noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2871761792100953772.post-29030527843745396682011-12-01T10:10:00.003-06:002011-12-01T11:03:29.183-06:005 Things<div><b>5 Things You Don't Know About Me:</b></div><div><br /></div><div>1. I like my hair long but cannot stand for it to touch my neck or face. It spends most of it time up in a pony tail or twist. Each of my classes in high school began with me putting my hair up with a pencil. Apparently, my hair being down interfered with the brainwaves functioning properly. </div><div><br /></div><div>2. I would like to sing (<i>well</i>) in front of a group of people one day.</div><div><br /></div><div>3. I hate to be scared. It's no fun at all. I don't do scary movies or haunted houses. That's a guarantee for me to throw up from the sheer anxiety of what I think will happen. </div><div><br /></div><div>4. I often break into dance much to the horror of my children.</div><div><br /></div><div>5. I would like to learn to play the violin/fiddle depending on the audience as to which I play.</div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div><b>5 Things I'm Knowledgeable About:</b></div><div><b><br /></b></div><div>1. I'm an expert in procrastination. Trying to become more of a slacker instead of expert. Tough to overcome especially when I keep putting it off until tomorrow. </div><div><br /></div><div>2. I know a thing or two about good music. Good music makes the world go 'round.</div><div><br /></div><div>3. I know how to laugh at myself.</div><div><br /></div><div>4. I consider myself gifted in the art of being a momma to boys. To me boys are more than noise or dirty little creatures getting into trouble. Boys are awesome!</div><div><br /></div><div>5. Directions. I have the best sense of direction in the world! Even Brett is impressed with my mad skills. Take me with you and you'll never be lost again!</div><div><br /></div><div><b>5 Things I Know Nothing About:</b></div><div><b><br /></b></div><div>1. Advanced math, chemistry, physics. My brain will not go there. It did well enough in school to get a B but that doesn't mean that my brain got it or ever will. Brett will sometimes drift off into complicated physics talk and I feel by body stopping all function and only comes back after all that physics talk has ceased.</div><div><b><br /></b></div><div>2. <b> </b>Baking bread. Oh, how I want to attempt it, but I just can't bring myself to use something besides the bread machine. I am afraid to mess up. Baking bread is like advanced math to me. I just don't get it and am afraid to. I've made a goal to tackle this fear and lack of knowledge this winter. Pray for me. </div><div><br /></div><div>3. Being quiet. I'm loud. Not nearly as loud as I once was but I am still prone to the occasional public outburst of excitement, the laugh that is a little too loud when surrounded by my girlfriends, the hearty grunt as I lift Lady Bug and myself into the truck (which is currently missing its side running boards). As I'm climbing into the truck with the girl to nurse her after we leave Hobby Lobby, I give a groan. Brett laughs and says, "Good to know you do that in public too." <i>Huh?</i> "You are loud." <i>Ya, so. I'm pregnant, getting in with your eleven month old and this stinking Suburban isn't low to the ground. Ya, everyone needs to know my situation.</i></div><div><i><br /></i></div><div>4. How to enjoy clothing shopping for myself. I hate trying on clothes. Lifelong problem. Never have, never will.</div><div><br /></div><div>5. Giving up. I'm a perpetual believer in second chances, tomorrow, and dreams coming true.</div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div><b>5 Things I Believe:</b></div><div><br /></div><div>1. I believe in bare feet. Life is better without the restraint of shoes. </div><div><br /></div><div>2. Being kind. #1 rule in our house. If you're mean to me, I'll kill you with kindness. You know the hateful cashier at the store. Oh ya, killed her bad attitude with kindness. Sometimes, they return the good attitude, sometimes not. But I always walk away feeling victorious. Wanna change the world? Be kind to someone when you don't feel like it.</div><div><br /></div><div>3. The closest to heaven you will ever be on this earth is when you are around a new baby.</div><div><br /></div><div>4. A good walk always gives way to a new perspective. </div><div><br /></div><div>5. Opposites make the best couples. Perfect example, Brett and myself. </div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div>{This was part of a writing workshop from <a href="http://www.mamakatslosinit.com/">Mama Kat</a>}</div><img class="centered" alt="post signature" src="http://i409.photobucket.com/albums/pp178/sneakymomma/sigsbr.png" />Adeliahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11249175658844761354noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2871761792100953772.post-69276676403550454792011-11-16T05:35:00.004-06:002011-11-17T11:27:54.800-06:00Why I Chose a Home Birth<div>{This is my journey. It is not meant to make anyone feel uncomfortable or wrong. Every one's birth story is special. Whether the baby came out the old fashioned way or through your nose. Please just enjoy our adventure with us.}</div><br /><div>First off, I am not the home birthing type. Seriously. I had never read any pre-baby book besides <em>What to Expect When You're Expecting</em> and that was just because someone had given it to me. *If you own <em>What to Expect When You're Expecting,</em> please trash it now. What a silly, unhelpful book.* Back to who I was before our home birth choice. I never questioned how babies came out. You go to the hospital and push out your baby. That's it. That's all I cared to know and trusted that's how it all went down. </div><br /><div>With my first baby, I was 21. Gosh, that's young. Anyway, I was gonna have my baby. {You can imagine a big smile and starry eyes here} I went in for my first prenatal and the popular Dr walks in, claps his hands together and says with a laugh, <em>Okay, take off all your clothes. Hahahaha. Just kidding. </em>Um, I am a modest person. Even an immodest person would have cringed or at least decked him. So, I transferred to the new physician in the office. At least his was much kinder and didn't have a raunchy sense of humor. </div><br /><div>With our first baby we didn't want to know the gender. But my kinder physician took a look at the baby with a sonogram and told us what we were having anyway. And that was the beginning of no one listening to me. We wanted a natural birth and to not be induced. Remember, I had not taken the initiative to educate myself. I was trusting my physician to stand up for me. *You cannot do this. Home birth or hospital birth. Please read and educate yourself. At least you can make informed decisions. Learn from my naivete.*</div><br /><div>Tristan was a week overdue. My Dr wanted to induce. I was fighting him. Brett was standing with me. Then he pulled the <em>it's safer for your baby...he's just getting bigger...it's dangerous for him to stay in...</em>And because I wanted to be the best momma possible, I caved. They did the non stress test, which went without a hitch, and monitored me for contractions. Surprise, I was having tiny contractions. I just didn't know what they were. New sensations and all. My body was getting ready on it's own. Hind sight, I would have said no induction. But sweet little old people pleasing me went on ahead. </div><br /><div>I was so excited to get my baby. I went in with stars still in my eyes. The Dr broke my water immediately. {insert the hindsight <i>gasp</i> here} Then started me on pitocin--which he asked for the max dosage. I ended up having contractions that lasted so long, they just wouldn't stop. I was exhausted and the baby seemed to be moving up instead of down. After me just being in extreme pain and exhausted, I consented to an epidural. I fell asleep and about three hours later a nurse woke me up to check me. Um, the baby was coming out! Thanks for not checking on me earlier!! Then Baby Tristan's heart rate showed signs of distress. After 15 minutes of pushing, the Dr said if he didn't come out in the next two pushes that would use a vacuum. There are more details to this, but if you've read Ina May's Guide to Childbirth, she sums it up in her writing on the topic of inductions and pitocin. I cried when I read those paragraphs. I didn't know. It's my fault for not educating myself. It's my Dr's fault for not taking better care of us. </div><div><br /></div><div>The Dr actually warned me as Tristan was crowning that he may not be breathing but that was okay. (!!) Baby Tristan came out ticked off. What a wail! For good reason. I'm so thankful for the protection over him and his birth. We made so many mistakes. And the last insult to our injury was that the Dr pulled on my placenta and blood went everywhere. You DO NOT do that. And then he said that my placenta was rotting and that was why T's heart rate was in distress and why that blood gushed everywhere. Ya, that's why. The high dose of pitocin, lack of monitoring and yanking my placenta out had nothing to do with it. </div><div><br /></div><div>Ironically, I was still starry eyed and trusting. </div><div><br /></div><div>Alex was born 3 years and 5 days later. I had terrible prenatal care and hated my Dr. Once again, he was billed as the best and most popular. I was very sick and would faint throughout my pregnancy with Alex. I told my Dr this repeatedly and he was not concerned. I finally had another Dr check it out and my pancreas was shutting down, I was dehydrated (from throwing up constantly) and anemic on top of a host of other things, but these are the things that stand out now. I did not want my Dr to deliver this baby. I didn't trust him. I went into labor on my own this time--I remember being so excited that I let out a happy squeal when I lost my mucous plug. I was already feeling victorious. Whoa baby! Real contractions are nothing like the minutes long pitocin induced contractions. The Dr on call would end up becoming my OB. Dr B, love him! So kind. So gentle. So thorough. Alex was born with a head full of white hair. Dr B didn't clean the baby. He caught Alex and immediately put him on my chest. He gave us time and it's like the nurses knew to not interrupt. My placenta delivered on its own with very little bleeding. In hindsight, I see that Dr B was an advocate for gentler births. The only thing I can find issue with is that he did break my water as well. We were in and out of the hospital in 20 hours or so. It was a good birth experience. </div><div><br /></div><div>Isaac, our little imp, came into our lives 17 months later. I had great prenatal care. Dr B is a wonderful, competent physician. As the due date approached, I became very overwhelmed with hope that Dr B would be the physician on call. I woke up at 1 am to the familiar loss of mucous plug which signaled the beginning of labor with Alex. I was excited again! And then I realized, Dr B was not on call. Dr C was. Dr C was a lady. Dr C ends up being the Dr that made me look outside the hospital for an alternative birth.</div><div><br /></div><div>Dr C broke my water, and I don't know what that woman did, but it felt like I had been stabbed with a knife. So much so that I shrieked and screamed. That should was the warning of things to come. I had been told by the nurses not to deliver anytime soon because they had two c-sections to perform. Great. I did get an epidural with Isaac as well. It was a light epidural. I could still feel the contractions and the baby coming down. I told the nurse that I needed to push. They called Dr C. Dr C was in the hallway where my mother and family friend were. She said to stall me so she could go have lunch. I started feeling like I was going to burst. I told the nurse I had to push now--that I could feel the baby and he was hurting me! Not in the normal pain--we were being harmed. She placed her had over me and said, "Please don't. If there is a shoulder issue, I don't know how to deal with it." </div><div><br /></div><div>After a full 30 minutes and me in tears, Dr C arrived with a smile while I was in visioning kicking her in the face. Issac came out head and all with the one and only push. Isaac had swallowed quite a bit of fluids and there was quite a bit of meconium in them. By the end of the night, Isaac had to have his tummy pumped because he was having so much trouble. </div><div><br /></div><div>Dr C does this tick with her tongue. She speaks, ticks, speaks, ends with a tick. While we're waiting for my placenta to deliver, she was ticking. And she too pulled my placenta out. SO DANGEROUS. I did loose quite a bit of blood. It took them a while to stop the bleeding. The nurses were very concerned. The Dr said I was bleeding so much because I was a red head. {It is my fault for not educating. It is her fault for being impatient and reckless.}</div><div><br /></div><div>After going home, I began to realize that I could not urinate without <b>extreme</b> pain. I sat in a sitz bath of scalding hot water just to go to the bathroom. I called Dr B to have it checked out. Turns out, because Baby Isaac was stalled in the delivery process he rubbed a sore inside of me. When Dr B found out what happened he was horrified and apologetic. I appreciated his kindness but knew right then, if we ever had another child, I could not count on him to be the on call Dr.</div><div><br /></div><div>I heard the local midwife speak with a panel on women's health. That started the gears turning. We found out that I was pregnant with Alaina and I felt at a loss. I knew I couldn't do the hospital again. We went and spoke with the midwife, J, and had all of our questions answered. We had A LOT. Brett went into that meeting on the fence. He came out and said, "I think you should home birth." I went to my OB for an ultra-sound. Between Isaac's and Alaina's pregnancies, we had had a miscarriage. Miscarriages make you jumpy. I just wanted to see or know the baby inside was alive and well. Dr B verified everything for us. He had left the practice he was at and was now just focusing on GYN. He asked who I would be using for this pregnancy and I told him we were considering home birth. He said he thought I was a great candidate for home birth and gave his approval. </div><div><br /></div><div>Two things solidified my resolve in the home birth decision. One was my risk assessment. To see a licensed midwife, you have to have a risk assessment. I went to see a nurse/midwife called P. P was awesome. But the risk assessment caught me off guard. It didn't only include the usual tests that you get with your first prenatal visit. No, she had to look at my gums and pound on my kidneys and host of other things. You see, all of those things could indicate a complication or pre-term labor. I felt like this is something that needs to happen in regular clinic visits for hospital births. That's when I began realizing the difference in the midwifery model of care vs. the ob/gyn model. My risk assessment, my prenatal visits were such whole visits. Not just waiting for something to go awry but preventing it, being aware while still recognizing this as a normal function of the woman's body. </div><div><br /></div><div>The second thing that made me confident in our choice was educating myself. J has bookshelves full of books that she lets her clients check out. I read until I couldn't read anymore. <i>Ina May's Guide to Childbirth</i> {second half} was the straw that made this camel stand up taller. I felt like she was every woman's grandmother imparting wisdom and encouragement. Knowledge destroyed every fear I had leading up to Alaina's birth. The day I went into labor, I never thought <i>what if?</i>, I thought <i>let's do this!</i></div><div><i><br /></i></div><div><i>So for those who thought I was crazy or am crazy, I say<b> don't blame me, blame my OB's</b>. I understand not everyone agrees, but I do ask that you read and research before you argue with some one's choice to have a home birth. Usually a home birther has done the research and is not making some off the wall decision. We care about our babies and families. We are doing what is right for us. And I'll say this. I would love to be a home birth advocate, but that's unrealistic. I am a gentle birth advocate. There is so much we can do to make the birth process simpler, safer, and gentler no matter where you have your baby. I have hard feelings toward the OB's who took my pregnancy and babies for granted, but I'm also thankful in a way that they helped open my eyes. </i></div><br /><br /><div><img class="centered" alt="post signature" src="http://i409.photobucket.com/albums/pp178/sneakymomma/sigsbr.png" /></div>Adeliahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11249175658844761354noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2871761792100953772.post-90131939151712680802011-11-15T05:28:00.002-06:002011-11-15T07:57:13.764-06:00Pieces of Me<div><div>I have a good life. Really. But my life would make some women cringe and wither. I mean, I'm currently living on a mountain in the middle of no where in a {maybe} 900 sq ft house that contains 4 children while incubating another that is due around the time we hope to move into our big house next spring. But I get to be around my children every day. Every moment. Yes, sometimes that makes me gasp for air, but mostly it makes my heart sing.</div><div><br /></div><div>I never knew this piece of me existed before I met Brett. I had convinced myself I would never marry and that I could not have children. Not would not, could not. I think that just comes from my tumultuous childhood. Just didn't want to be a parent, didn't think I could be. I thought I'd live as a single woman all of my days with my dog and fish in some big city working as linguist traveling to Europe, the Middle East and Japan. </div><div><br /></div><div>When Brett and I were first twitter-pated with one another, he said he wanted 4 or 5 kids. Um...I said the max would be 2. Here we are expecting number 5. It just amazes me that that piece I never knew existed, surfaced and was healed.</div><div><br /></div><div>Now, my real future and present is me being a momma. I've not jetted around the world. There are times that I still dream in Japanese. I wake up excited and disappointed. A piece of me mourns that never realized future. But then I look at my bed filled sleeping imps--a baby girl and two little boys who infiltrated during the night. Brett, still in a deep sleep, unaware that one of the boys has thrown his leg across Brett's chest. If I was given a glimpse of both futures, I hope that glimpse would have contained the feeling that swells in my chest when I see my family. That feeling of <i>THIS</i> is <i>IT</i>, this is what life is about.</div><div><br /></div><div>It's about the stuffy noses, the cups of drinks that get spilled, the arguments among brothers, the bad attitudes and sleep rebellion. It's also the sweet cuddles and smiles, the helping hands while making brownies, the giggles among the same brothers, the fort building genius, and sweet good night songs and kisses.</div></div><div><br /></div><div>Yes, this mothering piece of me would squash that other potential future. I still hope to see Japan--just with my kids in tow. You know, we homeschool--living education and all that jazz...</div><div><br /></div><div>We went to Ft Smith this past weekend to see the Nina and Pinta replicas that are sailing through. I am not a Ft Smith fan. I think of it as generally dirty and dangerous. To this mountain dwelling woman, the site of the River Valley was most welcoming. The air carried with it a bit of familiar, the horizon didn't have a mountain in sight. A piece of me, the Central Arkansas piece of me came alive. I became quite the chatter box. If you think I talk a lot now, you should come back home with me. </div><div><br /></div><div>There is a piece of me that comes alive when I think of flat land, hot, sweltering summers, deep accents that go back generations, four wheeling at night, trucks with lifts. Yep, that redneck side of me comes alive. </div><div><br /></div><div>I never drive home, especially at night. Usually it's because these dang roads make me so sick, but after our romp in the River Valley I couldn't quiet my spirit. Talking and driving while Brett dozed on and off. A piece of me that had laid dormant for too long was alive! My voice was starting to give toward the end, the result of not talking then suddenly awakening my voice. </div><div><br /></div><div>If we were in the position to just buy any home we wanted, we would buy a house on the lake in Heber Springs. One with a basement two stories underground. You see, the biggest reason we don't live that direction is the tornadoes. I hate tornadoes. Yes, they could happen here, but it's less likely. There, it is guaranteed. The second thing that keeps me away is my terrible fear of the New Madrid fault line. Yep, I enjoy moonlighting as a conspiracy theorist and I know that thing is going to go. I feel even here is a little too close for comfort. </div><div><br /></div><div>But this piece of me, unlike the business woman piece, that may never be realized and I want it to be. I miss it. My trips back are too few and far in between. This piece of me hopes to awaken again soon.</div><div><br /></div><div>And then there is the piece of me that lies quiet on purpose. That piece of me stays here, awake, with me as I'm typing. It's the piece that says, sure I'll move to Newton County where I have no friends and the nearest grocery store is over an hour away and I'm guaranteed to throw up on the way home because I'm so car sick.</div><div><br /></div><div>So, that piece endures. Endures the FB updates of her friends and posts of "had such a great time with so and so" and knows that if she hadn't moved, her name would be there or we would be in a set tagged photos. FB is like watching my life go by before me. The piece that said <i>sure let's go</i> seems to just press on, but also misses her friends. This piece is getting by and hasn't really cried about her loss. Then we went on the field trip to the battlefield and saw a few of my closest friends. That was followed by a couple of fantastic phone conversations from friends I hadn't talked to since the move. The week that followed was really emotionally rough. Just on the inside, I was turning and turning the emotions. That quiet piece was growing sad and uneasy. This piece of me worries about how long this long distance thing will work. </div><div><br /></div><div>Friendships are built on commonalities and life experiences shared together. How long can that go on if you see each other every three months or so? </div><div><br /></div><div>This piece of me is hopeful that I'll make friends here. But at the same time, this piece is also unwilling to put myself out there. I've already been at the end of the gossip chain concerning my parenting skills and homeschooling ability here. This piece of me is becoming hardened. In my immediate area, the nicest people have been the atheists, the hippies and the Jehovah's Witness. So, this piece of me is really feeling like I'll not have any vested friendships. Of course, this feeling is marred by the fact that our vehicles have been malfunctioning since we moved here. Once that is straightened out, I plan on meeting up with a lady I seem to have quite a bit in common with. Transportation has not been on our side.</div><div><br /></div><div>This is where I've been the last couple of weeks. Struggling with this piece of myself. Finally cried about it this weekend. Not just a tear or watering in my eyes but a good sob. Self pity is repulsive and I took a good swim in it Saturday morning. Picking myself up out of the muck and trusting that the Lord is holding this piece of me. Knowing what I need and who I need. </div><div><br /></div><div>These are just a few pieces of me that have come out recently. Aren't we a complicated creation?</div><img class="centered" alt="post signature" src="http://i409.photobucket.com/albums/pp178/sneakymomma/sigsbr.png" />Adeliahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11249175658844761354noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2871761792100953772.post-39990114360096349632011-11-09T08:17:00.006-06:002011-11-09T09:05:26.404-06:00Homeschool Files: Field Tripping--Owls and BattlefieldsThe boys were able to attend a field trip with the "local" homeschool group. By local, I mean we only drove an hour and 20 minutes instead of an hour and 45 minutes. I was a little nervous meeting new moms, a new group, new people...But they were so welcoming and kind.<br /><br />We headed to Lake Dardanelle where a park ranger taught us about owls, and we dissected owl pellets. My friends know that I have a fascination with owls, so this was such a welcome lesson. The boys loved using their brushes and tweezers to extract the bones. They took turns being the excavator, the cleaner and the identifier. Professor X loved being the identifier. Our owl enjoyed a dinner of a bird (we had part of its head with beak attached) and a mouse. Yum!<br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-y_y5OvoiAMs/TrqPns23IWI/AAAAAAAADWc/oTco_pyOsU8/s1600/IMG_4441.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/-y_y5OvoiAMs/TrqPns23IWI/AAAAAAAADWc/oTco_pyOsU8/s400/IMG_4441.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5673004592845496674" border="0" /></a><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-BLl0bi8v_v8/TrqPnYuOKSI/AAAAAAAADWQ/Nne5i7Iwi0g/s1600/IMG_4439.JPG"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 300px;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-BLl0bi8v_v8/TrqPnYuOKSI/AAAAAAAADWQ/Nne5i7Iwi0g/s400/IMG_4439.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5673004587440548130" border="0" /></a>The visitor center at Lake Dardanelle is wonderful, filled with aquariums containing local fish, lots of sensory stations, even a station where you can terrorize, I mean touch turtles, a bee hive, and more. My kids spent a good deal of time in there.<br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-cJx-bba78p0/TrqPmXH4PzI/AAAAAAAADWI/6KOJCakjiNg/s1600/IMG_4442.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/-cJx-bba78p0/TrqPmXH4PzI/AAAAAAAADWI/6KOJCakjiNg/s400/IMG_4442.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5673004569831423794" border="0" /></a><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-I3Xkc1yCTmk/TrqPmMlMh5I/AAAAAAAADV4/CDPT--C25rc/s1600/IMG_4443.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/-I3Xkc1yCTmk/TrqPmMlMh5I/AAAAAAAADV4/CDPT--C25rc/s400/IMG_4443.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5673004567001597842" border="0" /></a>Oh, here's another picture of the therapeutic owl pellet dissection. Seriously, they got into this lulling zone. I need to order some just for meltdowns. <br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-BtK2fn7ECSU/TrqPoO-zvHI/AAAAAAAADWk/ENDHZDOYoeI/s1600/IMG_4440.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/-BtK2fn7ECSU/TrqPoO-zvHI/AAAAAAAADWk/ENDHZDOYoeI/s400/IMG_4440.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5673004602005634162" border="0" /></a>And you know that my kids put their bones in a plastic baggie and brought them home. Oh yes, they did--we still have them.<br /><br />I should mention that these aquariums showcase why I don't swim in rivers or lakes. <br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-J65n_TubiDQ/TrqPBKU7FEI/AAAAAAAADVc/8b8d4BLFnP8/s1600/IMG_4446.JPG"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 300px;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-J65n_TubiDQ/TrqPBKU7FEI/AAAAAAAADVc/8b8d4BLFnP8/s400/IMG_4446.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5673003930741314626" border="0" /></a><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-xAYNmR0rjfk/TrqPAwx7qUI/AAAAAAAADVQ/iV56spFryWQ/s1600/IMG_4455.JPG"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 300px;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-xAYNmR0rjfk/TrqPAwx7qUI/AAAAAAAADVQ/iV56spFryWQ/s400/IMG_4455.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5673003923883665730" border="0" /></a><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-6waEZUnUxuA/TrqO_gYfAcI/AAAAAAAADVI/hiWNDbzuEJs/s1600/IMG_4458.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/-6waEZUnUxuA/TrqO_gYfAcI/AAAAAAAADVI/hiWNDbzuEJs/s400/IMG_4458.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5673003902302093762" border="0" /></a><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-P_Tu2G-69YE/TrqO_S3bolI/AAAAAAAADU4/x-U042sRWqM/s1600/IMG_4459.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/-P_Tu2G-69YE/TrqO_S3bolI/AAAAAAAADU4/x-U042sRWqM/s400/IMG_4459.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5673003898673799762" border="0" /></a>Those! Those! They are why I don't swim in our waters. <br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-kxOXXlzAqwo/TrqPBl66oOI/AAAAAAAADVo/xmQiynPX_OU/s1600/IMG_4445.JPG"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 300px;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-kxOXXlzAqwo/TrqPBl66oOI/AAAAAAAADVo/xmQiynPX_OU/s400/IMG_4445.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5673003938148425954" border="0" /></a>We went and played at a playground near the lake. Well the boys played while I got to know the ladies who are so very, very nice. Some have familiar Southern accents that make me homesick. By homesick, I mean my childhood home, where it's flat and we all talk the same and don't think twice about it.<br /><br />My T asked if he could play near the lake. I granted his request knowing full well he was going to get a little wet. It's T plus water. It's guaranteed. However, the lake seemed to somehow swallow him and his brothers. My children were the only children drenched. I wasn't surprised but I wasn't pleased either. We had a long drive home including a stop to pick up food. They smelled wonderful. {dripping with sarcasm} Anyway, on to happier thoughts...<br /><br />Last week, we attended a field trip at Prairie Grove Battlefield with our former local homeschool group filled with some of our favorite people. <br /><br />Lady Bug was loose for part of the field trip being sweetie baby cutie cutie.<br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-_oASu50T8AE/TrqOApHxMuI/AAAAAAAADUk/i0SGx_s7_vQ/s1600/IMG_4507.JPG"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 300px;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-_oASu50T8AE/TrqOApHxMuI/AAAAAAAADUk/i0SGx_s7_vQ/s400/IMG_4507.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5673002822316143330" border="0" /></a><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-QhfLZV07p6Q/TrqOAGGY1EI/AAAAAAAADUU/if_7W_3gSwQ/s1600/IMG_4505.JPG"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 300px;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-QhfLZV07p6Q/TrqOAGGY1EI/AAAAAAAADUU/if_7W_3gSwQ/s400/IMG_4505.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5673002812915110978" border="0" /></a><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-X_9lGI2fvHQ/TrqOBhawgtI/AAAAAAAADUs/Gm9ydtxgoA0/s1600/IMG_4509.JPG"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 300px;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-X_9lGI2fvHQ/TrqOBhawgtI/AAAAAAAADUs/Gm9ydtxgoA0/s400/IMG_4509.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5673002837428175570" border="0" /></a>Okay, so we have a confession. We have been on this field trip before. Like 2 years ago, I think. At that trip, the man, same man pictured below, called for a volunteer and my T-Bird was the only one who raised his hand. <br /><br />Wellllll, he had been practicing all week before this trip on his hand raising skills in case they called for a volunteer again. He even went so far as to have me call for a volunteer and he would raise his hand. <br /><br />Sooooo, that explains why he is the volunteer here. I let him have his fun. We'll not be part of this group next year. His last hoorah.<br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-hb0lm7jLvF0/TrqM-wPI7JI/AAAAAAAADT8/I2UW3hjE3Gc/s1600/IMG_4503.JPG"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 300px;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-hb0lm7jLvF0/TrqM-wPI7JI/AAAAAAAADT8/I2UW3hjE3Gc/s400/IMG_4503.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5673001690354740370" border="0" /></a>My soldier boy.<br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-6AZfvTM5vfc/TrqM-KFpHoI/AAAAAAAADTw/9MVEZQ31OKE/s1600/IMG_4499.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/-6AZfvTM5vfc/TrqM-KFpHoI/AAAAAAAADTw/9MVEZQ31OKE/s400/IMG_4499.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5673001680114359938" border="0" /></a><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-66xGIXESV9o/TrqM9pLLvcI/AAAAAAAADTk/7iimSjP4sFQ/s1600/IMG_4497.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/-66xGIXESV9o/TrqM9pLLvcI/AAAAAAAADTk/7iimSjP4sFQ/s400/IMG_4497.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5673001671279230402" border="0" /></a><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-05nXXW_Wrwk/TrqM9SVXKDI/AAAAAAAADTY/iwR7xWclDw8/s1600/IMG_4495.JPG"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 300px;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-05nXXW_Wrwk/TrqM9SVXKDI/AAAAAAAADTY/iwR7xWclDw8/s400/IMG_4495.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5673001665147906098" border="0" /></a>He looks a little too much like Dopey. My little dwarf.<br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-qlMbTICRC-g/TrqM_Rwcl6I/AAAAAAAADUE/bBj5UDlEeR4/s1600/IMG_4504.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/-qlMbTICRC-g/TrqM_Rwcl6I/AAAAAAAADUE/bBj5UDlEeR4/s400/IMG_4504.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5673001699352811426" border="0" /></a>It's been tough having the kids around other kids--or lack or rather. We're not used to that, but we're making it. We enjoyed our time with both groups and are very thankful for them.<br /><img class="centered" alt="post signature" src="http://i409.photobucket.com/albums/pp178/sneakymomma/sigsbr.png" />Adeliahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11249175658844761354noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2871761792100953772.post-15100224538603504862011-10-25T09:49:00.002-05:002011-10-25T10:06:10.990-05:00The Good ReportI am a little ashamed at how long it has been since I've given a Good Report--my accounting of the beautiful ordinaries that I find extraordinary. Let's get to it!<br /><br />1. The clouds' shadows on the mountains.<br /><br />2. Baby girl's first steps. <br /><br />3. Hoot's unruly determination which will hopefully serve him well one day. <br />{He has been jumping off our porch railing which is at least 7 ft tall. I didn't believe it when T told me about it. Hoot: <span style="font-style: italic;">Yes, I can jump off! Watch. I won't get dead.</span> Then he jumps off the porch, crosses his arms like he's big stuff and says,<span style="font-style: italic;"> See, told ya I wouldn't get dead.</span> Then he starts around the porch again and says, <span style="font-style: italic;">I've been wanting to flip...</span> It took me 30 minutes and a little of Brett's persuasion to get that thought out of his head.} <br /><br />4. Friendships that stand the distance and absence of face to face conversations. Phone calls, letters and emails. Thankful for the friends who won't let the mountains swallow me up.<br /><br />5. Quiddler and Pictureka. Two card games that seem to reset any mood the boys may have.<br /><br />6. Music boxes.<br /><br />7. Professor X's quick wit. <br /><br />8. T-Birds ever changing collection of critters.<br /><br />9. The tapestry of fall's colors.<br /><br />10. Hot cocoa.<br /><br /><br /><img class="centered" alt="post signature" src="http://i409.photobucket.com/albums/pp178/sneakymomma/sigsbr.png" />Adeliahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11249175658844761354noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2871761792100953772.post-73947999536146144472011-09-23T08:32:00.005-05:002011-09-23T13:06:05.934-05:00Have I Ever Told You About Missus Gilgrease?I'm a walking contradiction. I am a rather loud person, yet I don't like to ruffle feathers of the powers that be. You would think a loud person would be a raucous raiser, but I'm not. I would rather poke out my own eyeballs than break a rule. Nauseating, I know.<br /><br />The times in my life that I've broken rules or somehow landed in trouble are seared into my memory bank, never to be extracted. Never, ever to be extracted.<br /><br />I went to kindergarten in a suburb of Dallas. I don't know how I survived school there. A 5 year old in a honkin' huge school. School buses forever. Everyday I prayed I would make it on to the right bus. I still have anxiety over it.<br /><br />I can remember my first introduction to my now addiction. Books. Library. Books. Our class went to the library for the first time, and I was overwhelmed by it's beauty. There were staircases to other levels of the library and ladders that you had to climb to retrieve your beloved, chosen book. It was wonderful.<br /><br />Somewhere in this school was Missus Gilcrease. {in my head she was Missus KILL GREASE--much more terrifying} My head has her associated with the library and the office but I'm having trouble giving her a title. Here's her title. Meanie Pants. There.<br /><br />In our school, we were not allowed to speak during lunch. Is that a rule? You could bet your boots, I was not going to speak.<br /><br />But Jenny would. Oh, Miss Cool Jenny. She didn't have to mind the rules. So, Miss Cool Jenny was sitting by me as I had my lunch pulled out of my Care Bear lunchbox sipping on orange Hi-C in my matching thermos when she had the audacity to ask if I wanted something out of her lunch. I shook my head no. {shook my head, <span style="font-style: italic;">no speech</span>} Missus Kill Grease pounced. She had heard it. Spinning around with her narrowing eyes, she asked who spoke. My mouth opened in horror. I thought I would be sick right there. "You, on the wall!" She said it to me. <span style="font-style: italic;"> Me?</span><br /><br />I cried and cried and cried. I was in trouble. On the wall. In trouble! In front of hundreds of students. Every eye on me. {not really, but at that time I was sure they were}<br /><br />I adamantly denied being the guilty party. I don't think Missus Kill Grease had ever had such a hysterically innocent child on her hands. She changed her mind about making me stay on the wall and sent me out to play with my class. Sure, that fixed it right? My friends wouldn't play with me because "I was supposed to be on the wall"....I had been branded. A giant, scarlet<span style="font-weight: bold;"> T</span> on my chest for<span style="font-weight: bold;"> Talker</span>.<br /><br />I sat on the sidewalk and began to feel sorry for myself. Missus Kill Grease came up and asked why I wasn't playing. I think inside she realized she was being filed away as <span style="font-style: italic;">villain for eternity</span> in my heart. What she had done, she could not undo.<br /><br />The school day was finally over. I somehow made it through the sea of yellow onto the right bus which delivered me to my mother. I didn't talk, worn out from the day. Momma always checked my lunch to see what I had eaten. She was startled to see that I hadn't eaten anything. I recounted my story and my mother, who is opposite of me and not afraid to raise a raucous, called the school the next day. Missus Kill Grease never bothered me again.<br /><br />I steered clear of her until our paths met once more. The last day of school. The school gave out awards for an array of reasons. In our kindergarten class, my name was called over the inner com that I had won an award for being a exemplary student and should go to Missus Gilcrease's office to pick up my award.<br /><br />Instead of feeling anxious about coming face to face with Meanie Pants again, I was thrilled. This woman was going to have to hand over an acceptance that I was amazing. I walked in and she said, "Adelia, there you are. Here you go! You're such a good girl." I took my bag of small toys and candy and gave her a look of <span style="font-style: italic;">told you so </span>and left. Never to see Missus Gilcrease again. Except in my head where she has a permanent residence.<br /><br />As far as Jenny. She wanted to be my friend. I never let her in my friendship circle. She got me into trouble. Unforgivable.<br /><br />Here are my wise words of advice. Heed them well, friends don't talk to friends in the lunchroom.<br /><br />Remember that and you'll live a long and happy life.<br /><br /><br /><br />{This post inspired by <a href="http://www.mamakatslosinit.com/blog/">Mama Kat's pretty much world famous writer's workshop</a>}<br /><span style="display: block;" id="formatbar_Buttons"><span onmouseover="ButtonHoverOn(this);" onmouseout="ButtonHoverOff(this);" onmouseup="" onmousedown="CheckFormatting(event);FormatbarButton('richeditorframe', this, 8);ButtonMouseDown(this);" class=" down" style="display: block;" id="formatbar_CreateLink" title="Link"><img src="http://www.blogger.com/img/blank.gif" alt="Link" class="gl_link" border="0" /></span></span><br /><img class="centered" alt="post signature" src="http://i409.photobucket.com/albums/pp178/sneakymomma/sigsbr.png" />Adeliahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11249175658844761354noreply@blogger.com0