tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-22717210269159990742024-02-07T18:22:05.450-08:00Two Tired SolesWalking through life's adventuresUnknownnoreply@blogger.comBlogger661125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2271721026915999074.post-19095714718694635042016-07-29T13:31:00.000-07:002016-07-29T13:31:00.159-07:00HeavenA conversation Dan overheard Micah mumbling to himself one night in bed...<br />
"Heaven is really far away. Its up really high. How will I get there? I think I will have to take an airplane. Yep. That's how I will get up into heaven."Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2271721026915999074.post-5538441972061621622016-07-27T13:29:00.002-07:002016-07-27T13:29:26.037-07:00CornWe had corn on the cob for dinner the other night. After finishing his cob of corn, Joel pips up that we should make sure we save the cobs. We question Joel about why we would need empty corn cobs. He says, "So we can make corn stock!"<br />
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After a few giggles, we explain that you cannot make stock from corn cobs (like you can with chicken bones). Then he suggests that we should try to make corn starch.<br />
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I think he might have taken our hippie ways a bit too far! Love the thought process...if only it was that easy.Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2271721026915999074.post-70466321957509760362016-06-10T13:10:00.003-07:002016-06-10T13:10:42.369-07:00Adventures in ParentingOne morning, a certain little boy, whom shall remain nameless, came up to me asking for some help to remove a sticker from a <i>very</i> special place on his body.<div>
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Dan was on his way out the door to go to work, laughing about this being another one of those things that you never thought you would do as a parent. </div>
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As I was assisting in the removal of the sticker, I yelled back at Dan, "It gets better! The sticker says, 'Hello. I'm Perfect!'"</div>
Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2271721026915999074.post-7957854171513716292016-06-03T13:33:00.000-07:002016-06-03T13:33:07.380-07:00Nature and Happiness<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhBRv56uADkuNH4r2ZJLjDkMEDN6ngUUrg5GRuyTJzirrkhTBwhHOkDOrL3L-S_q9B7kT0fGxYil4FogiAlbOVuCHb3ca7vymCVdwPbcdw_idQFFOxmt7d3QcPhu9XWYte2CLw-DAmeae4/s1600/IMG_8500.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="213" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhBRv56uADkuNH4r2ZJLjDkMEDN6ngUUrg5GRuyTJzirrkhTBwhHOkDOrL3L-S_q9B7kT0fGxYil4FogiAlbOVuCHb3ca7vymCVdwPbcdw_idQFFOxmt7d3QcPhu9XWYte2CLw-DAmeae4/s320/IMG_8500.JPG" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">"I'm so happy I went outside today"<br />
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<br />Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2271721026915999074.post-46922972728561241452016-06-01T21:36:00.000-07:002016-06-01T21:36:05.126-07:00You know you`ve done good when....<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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at the end of a nice walk, the kids are lying down for a nap.</div>
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<br />Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2271721026915999074.post-832751518320525562016-05-29T11:34:00.000-07:002016-05-29T11:34:05.453-07:00The Sunday SacrificeDan and I have made it a priority to attend church every Sunday. We don't often skip church, except for illness or an occasional family recovery day. When we started having kids five years ago, going to church became harder. As almost any parent of a young child knows, church quite often coincides with morning nap time. This means that we have to either rearrange our day to accommodate a different nap time (haha...like that's possible!) or our child doesn't nap. The ripple affect of this is an overtired and cranky child on Sunday and in our case, often a cranky child for 3-4 days afterwords. This means that we have finally fully recovered by Thursday. We then have three days of pleasant interactions (baring any sickness, teething or any other factors), until we start the process all over again.<br />
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Now that most of our kids are older and have dropped the morning nap, we have a different problem. Our children wake up early (as in 6am is sleeping in)! On Sundays, we choose to have a bigger breakfast and shower the kids. This means that by the time Dan and I have dragged our butts out of bed, fed and dressed the kids, its often too late to do anything, like a quick walk, before Sunday School starts at 9:30am. This messes up our whole day. Normally we eat lunch at 10:30, which coincidentally is the same time the church service starts. An hour later and church is over, and we are already half an hour later for our normal nap/quiet time and we still haven't eaten lunch! So our day is messed up and our kids are quite often antsy, overtired and hungry. Then, we go home, shove lunch down our throats and head straight to bed for a nap. By the time everyone is awake, its 3pm. That gives us an hour or so before we need to start dinner before moving onto bedtime routines. The entire day is gone (except for that one precious hour between 3-4pm). No wait! We still need a snack before dinner, since lunch may or may not have been eaten and we cannot handle hungry children! Therefore, the day is gone. Breakfast, church, naps, snack, dinner, bed. </div>
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Dan and I call this phenomenon the Sunday sacrifice. Our entire day has been sacrificed for two hours of church. This means that one of Dan's two days off is spent in church or awaiting the end of nap time. </div>
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There are definitely days that we would rather stay home or go out on an adventure somewhere. But instead, we keep heading to church. Those two hours are worth it. The Sunday Sacrifice is hard.</div>
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We realized early on in our parenting career, we needed to go to church every week, even if it was hard. Because for us, its too tempting to skip every week for another hour in bed, or a walk in the woods. (ohhh how we miss Bedside Baptist, with Reverend Pillow talking about the Great Comforter). Attending church became a top priority for us.</div>
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We have friends that are quite involved in church and ministry. They have designated one week a month as family time. Dan and I love this idea. Since hearing it, we have desperately tried to institute it. But there is always something dragging us to church instead. (...but Angelika is preaching, the kids are singing this morning, Dan teaching Sunday School, its raining, we could really use a nap later...)</div>
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So needless to say, we go to church. Our Sunday sacrifice continues whether we want it to or not.<br />
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But I guess as I reflect about it, we know that sacrificing our Sundays is worth it. We've talked often about how much we love our church. We love the multi-generational community we have. We love the messages we may or may not hear. And even on those days that we spend the entire service in the Mother's room or half asleep in the pew, we know that we are instilling an important habit in our boys lives. Its important to us that our boys see the importance of church. Its important that church attendance becomes a healthy habit. Its important for us to continue to build those relationships with others that we may not have outside of church. We have made friends with people who are our parents and grandparents age. They are our cheerleaders, people who challenge us and people who understand and have gone before us, ready to encourage us during our run through the gauntlet. Our children have built relationships with people who have different skills and interests than us. They nurture our children. Encourage our children. Pray for our children. Teach our children. We know that sacrificing our Sundays is worth it in the long run.<br />
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So whether we take a week off from church attendance or not, we know that both are good. We know we need a balance of attendance. A balance of sacrifice and relationship building. So we soldier on, waking up each Sunday making a choice. A choice to go to church and/or grow together as a family. Both are sacrifices. Both are worth it. </div>
Unknownnoreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2271721026915999074.post-37323012906264482312016-05-27T21:13:00.000-07:002016-05-27T21:13:03.142-07:009 years9 years. That's how long we have been married.<br />
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I find it too trite to say that our love for one another has grown each day. I'm pretty sure there was a long span of time that this statement wasn't true. Our love for one another has changed. Our appreciation for each other has grown deeper. We laugh differently than we did as newlyweds. Our roles within the marriage continue to develop and mature with age.</div>
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I often fail to vocalize my appreciate to Dan for the little things he does, those small every day things that I take for granted.</div>
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I love that he warms the face cloth every night and always lets me have it first.</div>
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I love that when he's first to the toothbrushes, he'll put toothpaste on mine as well.</div>
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I love that when he fills his water cup, he almost always fills mine at the same time.</div>
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I find it funny that when he does something annoying or silly and I call him on it, he'll turn around and say in a long drawn out, "You're stuck with me....FOREVVVVVVVVVER!" while holding out his hand and pointing at his wedding ring.</div>
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I love that Dan washes dishes by hand. Anything that doesn't fit in the dishwasher, or that is labeled hand-wash only, he washes. Every Single Day. I especially love that he washes the muffin tins.<br />
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I love that he will call, "Not it" to changing a dirty diaper, but end up changing it anyway.<br />
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I love that Dan will choose to navigate our journeys, rather than drive. Plus, having my own personal Dan-Dan (as opposed to TomTom) is amazing, especially when he tells me he's "recalculating route."<br />
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I love that Dan makes breakfast on weekends.<br />
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I love that Dan and I share night duty with the kids. He'll get up and bring the baby to bed, I'll feed the baby and pass the baby back to Dan so he can return it to bed.<br />
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I love that Dan appreciates the little things in life, like a homemade dessert or a virgin bed (the first night on clean sheets).<br />
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I remember when in pre-martial counseling, we were asked why we loved each other. I distinctly remember saying that I love Dan's servant heart. I see it every day in the little things he does. He's made these little things habits, to serve, to value and cherish me.<br />
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We've had rough times in our marriage, mostly due to sleep deprivation. I distinctly remember during those three and a half months that we didn't sleep for more than forty-five minutes at a time, I would wake up every morning angry at Dan. Now don't get me wrong, he didn't do anything wrong. But I was mad. I was mad that we weren't sleeping. I was sleep deprived. But I made wrong choices and chose to nitpick everything he did. I remember lying in bed, thinking about how much I didn't like the way things were. So, I devised a plan to leave. I'd take the kids to my moms and live with her. Somehow it dawned on me that if I left and took the kids, that I would be waking up every night with the kids ON MY OWN. And I couldn't do it. I literally stayed in our marriage because there was no strength to get up every 45 minutes on my own to take care of the kids. So instead of leaving, I did the hard thing and changed my behaviour. I stopped nitpicking. I worked hard at not being mad at Dan, but mad at the situation. We worked hard at getting the baby to sleep longer stretches so we could be better people. We joke about that time in our lives now. We know that it wasn't really our marriage that needed work. We just needed to sleep and things improved exponentially.<br />
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I like that we realize when our marriage needs work. We both enjoy spending time together and when life gets busy, we will often take some time to rebuild our marriage and connect with one another.<br />
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If I had to give one piece of marriage advice to newlyweds, it would be this: Find out what works for your marriage and do it. Then, be willing to change and evolve as time goes on. What works for one couple may not work for another. What worked in year one, may not work well in year nine. But you need to find what works for both of you at that time period in life.<br />
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The couple we were when we got married has changed, grown, and developed into a different couple. But one thing remains the same. We still love each other and we will be together, FOREVVVVVER!<br />
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Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2271721026915999074.post-58169462572496035812016-05-24T20:44:00.000-07:002016-05-24T20:44:05.414-07:00Nature"Nature does not hurry. Yet everything is accomplished."<br />
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I saw this quote back in January. I've been pondering it ever since. There is a rhythm to life. New life blooms, grows and blossoms. Then it shrivels, dies and decays producing new life.<br />
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I think sometimes in life we wish that we were in the next stage. I can't wait to get married. I can't wait to have children. I can't wait for the kids to get bigger and go to school, to graduate, to get married and produce grand kids.<br />
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Often times, I've been trying to rush life. The joy, for me, of having three kids is perspective. The first child, I rushed. I couldn't wait for him to get bigger and grow up and do new things. The second one came quickly behind and I think I felt the same way. But this third little one. Oh nelly! Slow down little grasshopper. Slow down! I already miss the baby snuggles. The attempts to roll and crawl and walk. But at the same time, don't slow down. Keep moving forward. The beauty of this third baby is that I'm not rushing him along into the next stage. Perhaps, even, wisdom has grown deeper. As much as I'm not rushing him, I'm not urging him to slow down either. But rather, allowing him to develop in his own time. He will do things when he is ready.<br />
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Nature does not hurry, yet everything is accomplished.Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2271721026915999074.post-17342704711495303552016-05-18T12:37:00.000-07:002016-05-18T12:37:07.700-07:003 Boys<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgd0edhmUfg9aA8_biCk7b1JU5KMK9vYGBY8ODW85SMIEoWTkhxabsHHrOILSOXB3vELZr-m3e_WplIG_7FCtTC7xwvBSQROGVLupUmEE1tf8iSGES1jksbpBUL8ANE0ip2Cne8MV7Rx38/s1600/Email.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="426" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgd0edhmUfg9aA8_biCk7b1JU5KMK9vYGBY8ODW85SMIEoWTkhxabsHHrOILSOXB3vELZr-m3e_WplIG_7FCtTC7xwvBSQROGVLupUmEE1tf8iSGES1jksbpBUL8ANE0ip2Cne8MV7Rx38/s640/Email.jpg" width="640" /></a></div>
All three boys wearing the same outfit, at about the same age.<br />
Definitely brothers!Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2271721026915999074.post-29248107021622956772016-05-15T20:10:00.000-07:002016-05-15T20:10:08.738-07:00Ordinary TimeI was reading some one's blog the other day about how they were ready for ordinary time. They just felt weary from celebrating Lent and Easter and were awaiting Pentecost and the beginning of ordinary time. As I read that, I sighed in concurrence. I, too am awaiting ordinary time and am weary of celebrating Easter. Then I thought to myself, since when did I start following the liturgical calendar?<br />
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I guess it started with Lent...or was it Advent? As a family, we have started to be purposeful in our actions around Christian holidays. Christmas feels too short without the anticipation that Advent brings. The lament of Lents helps season the richness of Easter. As time has gone on, we've added Thanksgiving and Pentecost. It seems as though from October through till May this year, we have rolled one liturgical season into another, with nary a break in between.<br />
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How do we celebrate the liturgical season? We've moved beyond crafts (because I can't be bothered), to a deeper, richer time as a family. We spend each season in prayer. We pray for our friends, family and Church members. Each day, we choose a name and pray that family and display their name in a seasonal artistic way.<br />
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During thanksgiving this year, we put names on leaves.<br />
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Advent and Christmas, we used stars.<br />
Lent, we used flowers on a cross.<br />
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And during the time between Easter and Pentecost, we put fire on the cross.<br />
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It allows us to focus on prayer and on people that we don't always remember to pray for otherwise.<br />
One of our Lent goals was for the boys to learn a standard prayer for our food (God is Great and God is Good and we thank him for this food, Amen), which went well. This Pentecost season, we wanted to do something a little different. We wanted a standardized prayer that we could all say together for the chosen family. I scoured the Internet to find a Pentecost prayer that we could pray on behalf of someone that was short enough and easy enough for our family to learn (this was NOT an easy task). Eventually, I happened to find one that suited our needs and at least had something to do with Pentecost and the Holy Spirit.<br />
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Come Holy Spirit,<br />
Bring us today,<br />
Love, joy and Peace,<br />
In all that we say.<br />
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Come Holy Spirit,<br />
Help us be like you,<br />
Showing kindness and goodness,<br />
in all that we do.<br />
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Come Holy Spirit,<br />
Please bless ___________, in all that they do.<br />
and bless the many people,<br />
That might not know and love you.<br />
Amen.<br />
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While we have really enjoyed the richness of Lent, Easter and Pentecost, I am ready for a break. I'm ready to have my walls free of art and the fighting over who chooses a name to end. I've thoroughly enjoyed this season, but I am ready to move onto ordinary time. I'm weary from the celebration. As much as I have enjoyed this time, I am ready for it to end. I guess that is the beauty of liturgy. Everything has a time. A time for mourning, a time for lament, a time for celebration, a time for preparation and a time for the ordinary.<br />
<br />Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2271721026915999074.post-28992279928395283222016-05-11T21:25:00.000-07:002016-05-11T21:25:10.950-07:00The boys<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEixheuyYziZnZXu6WTlqFnsrWvIJja-zchvD_JQapA6aGmvQjM5JrfJ_wjd9lfbz_QCrKPy9YniVfJF3YJk6OE9cGt7XVmtarzvep-sRNNiA-fMqWvxku5O5lO2M5gicUzQZ8pdt41AwjU/s1600/IMG_1100.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="213" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEixheuyYziZnZXu6WTlqFnsrWvIJja-zchvD_JQapA6aGmvQjM5JrfJ_wjd9lfbz_QCrKPy9YniVfJF3YJk6OE9cGt7XVmtarzvep-sRNNiA-fMqWvxku5O5lO2M5gicUzQZ8pdt41AwjU/s320/IMG_1100.JPG" width="320" /></a></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhhJykdrZq3iJXlv5nk4-E-E1J7G3h6_qFx80t4SOb00t2YIQ1QQEWVVKCKdkPpxUlHc57S1kEueGAM5AHdmK6kKWmWcRZenPogQuQoHM7l_RGAoKy6OPnfFYHTYEH7KbBJqmVSQSVWLBc/s1600/IMG_1116.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="213" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhhJykdrZq3iJXlv5nk4-E-E1J7G3h6_qFx80t4SOb00t2YIQ1QQEWVVKCKdkPpxUlHc57S1kEueGAM5AHdmK6kKWmWcRZenPogQuQoHM7l_RGAoKy6OPnfFYHTYEH7KbBJqmVSQSVWLBc/s320/IMG_1116.JPG" width="320" /></a></div>
<br />Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2271721026915999074.post-42349139246158661822016-05-08T21:09:00.000-07:002016-05-08T21:09:11.523-07:00Those things they say...<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
Joel called us into the playroom this spring (around Easter). We walked in to find this:</div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhdAHPy-Qg4APBYOxKDLb7jOjYP402wq_7DrEsvYiBOo8fH9gs-ZSNzvriwlOrx_ZSDV5zRxcCbjhAgIKblzNTNi5cc4uyCPBPKWZs3Wlg09wB4MNZxsjZZeXFa1rMu8qdpe5XQU8Lqvas/s1600/IMG_20160307_160625186.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="288" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhdAHPy-Qg4APBYOxKDLb7jOjYP402wq_7DrEsvYiBOo8fH9gs-ZSNzvriwlOrx_ZSDV5zRxcCbjhAgIKblzNTNi5cc4uyCPBPKWZs3Wlg09wB4MNZxsjZZeXFa1rMu8qdpe5XQU8Lqvas/s400/IMG_20160307_160625186.jpg" width="400" /></a></div>
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But the comment he made...</div>
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"They are crucifying people to make soil. They're recycling!"<br />
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<br />
Perhaps we've talked a little too much about decompostion lately. If we ever go missing, please search the dirt pile in the backyard. Joel might be "recycling" us back there.Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2271721026915999074.post-74338182951483839332016-05-05T20:26:00.000-07:002016-05-05T20:26:07.985-07:00Constant<i>*I wrote this in February. Obviously its message is still applicable. In fact, Dan is in school for five weeks, so the consistency is even more evident.*</i><br />
<br />
My father-in-law took Dan and I out for dinner last week. It was wonderful. While we were out eating, he made a comment about why he wanted to take us out for dinner (other than the fact that he rarely gets to see us and this was to celebrate our birthdays). He took just the two of us out, rather than the whole family to give us a break. With the kids around, we are constantly on duty. Our action and movements are constant. There is no break.<br />
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For some reason, that word stuck out to me: constant. I've pondered that word for a few days now and I've come to realize that perhaps that is what is unsettled in me lately. Everything is constant. We are always on duty. From the moment we get up in the morning until we crawl into bed at night, we are moving constantly. Feeding, cleaning, changing, calming, disciplining. Sometimes I feel like I am on a hamster wheel, running around and not getting anywhere. There are always hungry kids. The house is always in a state of disarray. The laundry is never finished. Kids constantly need help. Reminding kids to do their responsibilities. Attempting to get kids to go (and stay) asleep. Its never-ending. And that's just the parenting aspect of my life. Then, I also have a marriage to nurture, extended family to communicate with, and relationships with friends to uphold.<br />
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Lately, I've been feeling slightly overwhelmed. I'm not drowning under the responsibilities of being a wife and mother. But I feel like I'm constantly moving. There has been an absence of rest. My days are busy caring for kids, my nights have been restless.Then someone asks me to help, to volunteer, to be a part of a committee, to serve in some way...and I say no. I can't quite put my finger on why I don't want to. But I think I've figured it out. My life is full. I can't fit anything else in. And if I could, I wouldn't be doing something new. I want to be better at what I am already doing.<br />
<br />
I would be consistent in getting out care group emails earlier in the week.<br />
I would be in communication with the Barkmans more (and be a better liason between them and the church).<br />
I would blog more.<br />
I would teach Micah his letters and numbers (and be a bit more intentional about it).<br />
I would mop my floors.<br />
I would read with Joel, or rather have Joel read to me.<br />
I would do more Lent activities with the boys. The ideas are there, the motivation is lacking.<br />
I would cook more meals (rather than defaulting that to Dan).<br />
I would go for more nature walks.<br />
I would sign my boys up for swim lessons.<br />
<br />
I know there is more. Part of my problem is the constant demands of family. I get started on something and then I hear the tears of a child. Or I'm overwhelmed by the daily to-do list and don't know where to start (or sadly, can't remember what it is I'm supposed to be doing).<br />
The other problem is motivation. I am so dang tired that I can't be bothered to do these things. When the kids are in bed, and Dan and I are done the daily duties for the day, we collapse on the couch. I can't be bothered to plan things, to blog, to do the things I want/need to do. I'm too tired. My brain just needs to stop. To breathe. To rest.<br />
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We've had some busy evenings lately and I can tell. My demeanor is down. Our marriage needs to be dusted off. Its not that its bad. It just hasn't been taken care of. We need to connect again. (and now that Dan isn't sick and the risk of germ transfer has lessened, I'm willing to take that risk). We need to tackle that to do list, but relaxation is more important. We've driven ourselves into the ground and we both know our limit. Life is constant.<br />
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We've had some long sleepless nights lately. I can tell. My caffeine intake has almost doubled. I enjoyed a short nap during church (sorry Chris). My brain feels foggy and jumbled. I'm short in patience and quick to anger. My eyes feel heavy. My body feels slow. I crave sweets and comfort food. And a nap. Oh, how I could use a nap. I miss getting more than two hours of consecutive sleep. I miss waking up to see a six on my alarm clock. Life is constant.<br />
<br />
The consistency of life is getting to us. We know what we need. A few good nights sleep. A few days of restful activities. A walk outdoors. A sunny day. A short break. Date night.<br />
<br />
We know those things will come. But until they do, we have become masters of 'making do.' We will pair down the activities. We will do the bare minimum to make it through the day until our bodies have rested and are ready to tackle the next project. We will motor through those long nights, praying for rest. Our life is constant.Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2271721026915999074.post-23071235055310426642016-05-01T20:21:00.000-07:002016-05-01T20:21:30.438-07:00The hardest place to parent a childA friend asked me, "Where is the hardest place to be a parent?"<br />
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I didn't have to think long about it. Church. You see, church is a place where we are expected to sit still and be quiet. Two things that don't come easily to kids....especially my kids. The hard part for me, as a parent, is dealing with the judging eyes. The whispers. The "why can't she control her kids?"<br />
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<br />
You see, at a grocery store or any public place for that matter, if the kids act out or throw a tantrum, the likelihood of seeing those judging eyes again are slim. But at church, we see the same people week after week. The same people who had a problem with our kids last week, will probably have a problem with us again this week. <br />
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<br />
But as time has gone on, I've realized that there are less and less of those judging eyes. Most of the judgement I thought I was receiving was fictional. There are still some people who wonder about our parenting. But they are far and few between. Most people don't care that our kids make a little noise. Or move around. Or act silly or (God-forbid) act like children. <br />
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<br />
Almost three summers ago while in church, Dan and I overheard a comment that blessed us so deeply. It was meant to be whispered from a Father to his daughter. We cannot remember this man's exact words. But the sentiment cut us to the core. We have mulled this comment over since that summer, not able to process it completely. I think it will remain as one of those pivotal comments that changed how we parent and how we feel about parenting. The comment goes something like this: "I'm pretty sure that God prefers kids not to sit still and be quiet. I'm pretty sure he wants them to move around and be kids."<br />
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<br />
Something along the lines of "Let the little children come to me." Something that was picturesque in the story books and even my imagination growing up. But the reality is completely different. Kids are crazy, unpredictable and loud. I can imagine pushing and shoving. I can imagine giggling and screeching. I imagine running and skipping. All those things that aren't necessarily welcome in church. But oddly enough, Jesus says, "Let the screaming, running, shoving, loud, obnoxious, excited, giggly children come to me." And what this gentleman was saying was the exact same thing. He wants those same children to come to church. To be childlike. <br />
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Oddly enough, the hardest place to parent has become the best place to parent. We are five years into this parenting gig and are just starting to appreciate the complexities of it all. Five years ago, we were worried that our cooing baby would be distracting to others around us. Now, we realize that our children are welcomed into our church. We have come to appreciate that our children, our loud, obnoxious, clambering all over the place, kicking the seat in front of us, children are welcome in church. We have stayed at this church, because we know our children are welcome. We make a point of coming to church every week knowing that we are welcome. We have been blessed by our community.<br />
<br />
There was an older gentleman, who has since passed away, who would sit behind our family every week. He fell in love with our kids and would intentionally come to church to see our children. He was very purposeful in his actions. Every week, he made sure to pull me aside and say the exact same thing to me. Words that resonated with me. Words that encouraged me. Words that challenged me. Words that I still hear every week as I take a seat in church. When I look at his daughter, I hear those words. When I see the empty spot where she usually sits, I hear those words. "You are a good mom." Simple words that became a mantra of sorts. Words that got me through those tough days. Words that affirmed who I was, rather than what was being seen by the outside world. On those days when I sat embarrassed and ashamed at my children's behaviour, I felt loved and affirmed. Church still can be the hardest place to parent. But it is also the most joyous and encouraging. Church is no longer a place I dread going to for fear of what my children will do. Church has become a place that we long for. That we need. That we come to for love and encouragement.<br />
<br />
Our children come to be themselves. We come to be ourselves. Its a messy, loud, exciting place. A place we are welcomed. A place we like to call home.<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />Unknownnoreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2271721026915999074.post-26655936802012228162016-02-08T08:12:00.002-08:002016-02-08T08:12:57.161-08:00Those things they say...#2Joel: Knife starts with the sound "Nnnnn" but the government says it has to start with the letter K. The government is so silly.<br />
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Hehehe! Dang you government!Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2271721026915999074.post-54137087847248607152016-01-23T20:29:00.000-08:002016-01-23T20:29:01.813-08:00Those things they say...Dan walked into the bathroom to find Joel curled up on the floor, cuddling a roll of toilet paper.<br />
Dan asks, "What are you doing?"<br />
Joel replies, "I love this toilet paper. Please use this one next!"Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2271721026915999074.post-91925548991649258882016-01-20T12:20:00.000-08:002016-01-20T12:20:01.494-08:00Who's who?<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiZsTH9txWRjNoz7KcN7WA4GUwR-Fc4zKbWug6s-TwgL7cjRNU0W5xkRLTLNbGexTcix7CcnnIu18Np-yKfg0nYeJJ4fkrxhhQi09I7HKGb-k_TfKrHMgDqK7CUXuqmb0BXpZYDecOLbzU/s1600/1-Joel+Baby-001.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="213" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiZsTH9txWRjNoz7KcN7WA4GUwR-Fc4zKbWug6s-TwgL7cjRNU0W5xkRLTLNbGexTcix7CcnnIu18Np-yKfg0nYeJJ4fkrxhhQi09I7HKGb-k_TfKrHMgDqK7CUXuqmb0BXpZYDecOLbzU/s320/1-Joel+Baby-001.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>
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A B C</div>
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Can you guess which child is which?</div>
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(oddly enough, these pictures make it super easy for me, unlike other pictures. But oddly enough, finding pictures of all three kids looking similar is very difficult.)</div>
Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2271721026915999074.post-24524746983201562632016-01-17T13:15:00.001-08:002016-01-17T13:15:16.218-08:00Caleb's 1st Birthday<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjPXnzV7JX46jcw7w4D91B4Q4Jkj8ulgknIUZ1Tj9godqk3hceUikgDioiyvntCG94s3g8aM0p7BuKjaiIkuK5xoNu8MKTg3KcjKvPnyubpJ8Z9jZbL8hNLNK8gtvF8_OQcxXixZIKafTk/s1600/1-IMG_7095.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjPXnzV7JX46jcw7w4D91B4Q4Jkj8ulgknIUZ1Tj9godqk3hceUikgDioiyvntCG94s3g8aM0p7BuKjaiIkuK5xoNu8MKTg3KcjKvPnyubpJ8Z9jZbL8hNLNK8gtvF8_OQcxXixZIKafTk/s320/1-IMG_7095.JPG" width="236" /></a></div>
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<b>Caleb Elijah</b></div>
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<b>Stats</b></div>
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21 lbs 2 oz. </div>
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(the lightest at 1 year, Joel was 21 lbs 4 oz and Micah was 22 lbs 4oz)</div>
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75 cm long </div>
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(the shortest at 1 year, Joel was 76.5 cm and Micah was 80 cm)</div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj7wezTvmX56gfUuOw1LOLhdwAhgGSrQIjenoPR2M2jLE5v4rsBsbUFVrv0mWpazHYvAsBp8uc1OpugcvGMsQ92JRDRnAHrDmPZ7gfZ_16q4Ic_WutUTkZUWijXb_qTge9ncpFT7kdeOV0/s1600/IMG_7130.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="213" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj7wezTvmX56gfUuOw1LOLhdwAhgGSrQIjenoPR2M2jLE5v4rsBsbUFVrv0mWpazHYvAsBp8uc1OpugcvGMsQ92JRDRnAHrDmPZ7gfZ_16q4Ic_WutUTkZUWijXb_qTge9ncpFT7kdeOV0/s320/IMG_7130.JPG" width="320" /></a></div>
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<b>Eat</b></div>
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Almost anything. Loves scrambled eggs for breakfast. Cheese, yogurt, apple sauce, popcorn, carrots, cucumber, chicken and crackers are his favorite. Prefers to eat things that he can feed himself with.</div>
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<b>Sleep</b></div>
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Yep, he does that! He naps 1-2 times a day. The first nap is usually only 15 minutes in the car dropping Joel off at school or running errands. The second nap is 2-3 hours in length. He goes to bed between 6:30 and 7 pm and will wake up around 6-6:30 am. On a good night, he'll only wake up once or twice. Weeks will go by and he'll wake up at the same two times every night (lately its been 12:30 and 3:30). Other nights, he'll be awake every 1.5-2 hours. Usually that means he's teething or has a cold. Some nights, he decides that he wants to party for an hour or two in the middle of the night. In an attempt to 'sleep,' we pull him into the bed between us where he sucks his fingers and rubs his fingers along the sheet. He usually falls asleep within an hour or two and we transfer him back to bed. Oddly enough, he is still our best sleeper.</div>
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<b>Play</b></div>
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Caleb loves his walker and is pretty lethal on that thing. He runs around the house and sometimes even into you. He copies almost everything his brothers play. He loves Duplo, breaking train tracks, opening and closing the barn door, and his musical instruments. Caleb loves singing along when Micah or Joel plays guitar. He also loves pulling out the nightlight in his room, licking the bathroom scale and trying to flush the toilet. He enjoys pulling Micah's hair and being teased and tickled through the banister. He does not like the door closed and tries to open them on his own (he's not quite tall enough).</div>
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<b>Clothes</b></div>
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Mostly in 12 months clothes. Although I just pulled out some 18-24 months shirts and will soon have to pull out some 18 months sleepers. Your slippers are 12-24 months size and your shoes are size 3. You wear size 4 diapers.</div>
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<b>Development</b></div>
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Caleb is mostly walking. He loves walking between two people (its his favorite game). He still crawls whenever he falls down, but is frequently standing up to try walking again. Caleb is babbling a lot saying the ba, da and ma sounds. He copies Micah and tries to scream, spit or blow bubbles. He can sign 'more.' I learnt that one night when he was supposed to be sleeping between Dan and I. He signed more and then punched me in the nose. Repeatedly. Until I told Dan to hold his hand down so he'd stop. Caleb is the first of our children to stop doing something when we say 'no.' Unless it has to do with an electrical outlet. Then, he could care less. But for the most part, he will stop touching things he's not supposed to when we say so.</div>
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Caleb, there is a reason we call you our cupcake baby. You certainly are sweet. The icing on top! You have confirmed that its not our parenting skills that are the problem. Your brothers have different temperaments that don't fall into the textbook of raising children. You, on the other hand, are a textbook baby. You are developing at a semi-normal rate and doing things that most babies do. We've had to go back and read those parenting books that we threw out when Joel was born, just to figure out whats going on with you. You are a blessing and we love you!</div>
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<span id="goog_1655976041"></span><span id="goog_1655976042"></span><br />Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2271721026915999074.post-9318564077430801402016-01-13T12:26:00.000-08:002016-01-13T12:26:04.595-08:00Pondering and treasuring things in my heartThis year, we took an unintentional break from blogging. Sometime early in the throws of newborness, blogging took to the back burner. I had intentions of starting up again, requests even! But somehow life got in the way. Blogging became less of a priority. Sometime in early September, as we adjusted to have a kindergartener, I realized that I was choosing to take a year off of blogging. A maternity leave of sorts. It gave me the freedom to finish off 2015 without worrying or stressing over blogging, giving me another four months to adjust to life before blogging again. Now, a year after Caleb is born, I hope to return.<br />
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<div>
2015 was a year I wanted to savour. Having what could possibly be our last child, I wanted to savour those newborn days. I wanted to "ponder these things and treasure them up in my heart," just like Mary did after the birth of Jesus. I wanted to remember. </div>
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<div>
I want to remember how when Caleb was a newborn, he hate being naked and would scream loudly. But as soon as you put even just one sock on, he would calm down. </div>
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I want to remember how we got to dream feed him (third baby's the charm!). We would gently wake him up to feed him right before Dan and I went to bed. We could feed him in the living room with all the lights on. But my favorite part and the part I desperately want to remember, is when I was done feeding him, Dan would put him over his shoulder and carry him down the hall to bed. Caleb would peek his little eyes open and occasionally give a slight smile, while being carried away. Dan would lay him in bed and walk away. The look he gives me every night is precious. The fact that we can lay him down and walk away is miraculous. </div>
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I want to remember how when Caleb started solids, he would always give us a sour face. Even if he like the food he was eating, he would make a face. He did this every day, at every feeding until he was ten months old!<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEglJXplSl0gjNRQHnE9DVyh8LQbMhJMmtxlnAPGnodYtbW5ckAFRsACnxQJ_aqySFN4V-8BalRVYvOvJJnjZK1LwxoAnAgFpF0I3fYr_3cL7NL9wP1cuQTf8BbjXLxyF07c_-DPOzPVWG0/s1600/IMG_8876.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="213" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEglJXplSl0gjNRQHnE9DVyh8LQbMhJMmtxlnAPGnodYtbW5ckAFRsACnxQJ_aqySFN4V-8BalRVYvOvJJnjZK1LwxoAnAgFpF0I3fYr_3cL7NL9wP1cuQTf8BbjXLxyF07c_-DPOzPVWG0/s320/IMG_8876.JPG" width="320" /></a></div>
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I want to remember how Caleb sucks his fingers. He always sucks the middle finger and ring finger on his left hand.<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh62oJlPXBo6qnGQ72Fjn7S7acTa2dSsLjvMxMEnJEwjNuIgzrEgmg1JD8r9MTcTMyhlOFrTgxJ7p6ldARV07zrH3X4BpT8zKCaPT1LRbLqlFpRS4FgI3G39OeZDg_0CrFQdKI5xTNdPz4/s1600/IMG_9485.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="213" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh62oJlPXBo6qnGQ72Fjn7S7acTa2dSsLjvMxMEnJEwjNuIgzrEgmg1JD8r9MTcTMyhlOFrTgxJ7p6ldARV07zrH3X4BpT8zKCaPT1LRbLqlFpRS4FgI3G39OeZDg_0CrFQdKI5xTNdPz4/s320/IMG_9485.JPG" width="320" /></a></div>
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I want to remember how dramatic he is. When with a stranger, he may cried inconsolably. But as soon as he is back in my arms, he will stop. With one deep breath, his crying will cease. I call it my magic trick. It annoys Dan when Caleb does it to him. Caleb will cry for ten minutes in Dan's arms, but immediately once in my arms, he will stop. Not a few seconds after being in my arms, I'm talking the very instant. Its hilarious!<br />
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I want to remember the relationship Caleb has with Joel and Micah. I want to remember how Joel can stop Caleb from crying just by looking at him. Or how Caleb loves playing with and pulling Micah's hair. I want to remember how Caleb looks as Joel carries him down the hall. Always with a huge smile!<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgCaDGiwnwACBDM19o-lOk_zzLC9J3GJCZpCc-xIYINkX-nVI7cG6UATI-9W6aXaG9cGYmkLW71xBOHgtjBttnnWcSok6gjMxGhle19jIQDYMWbsHeTgasaTb1y-E5Ye3B9Pws3Zw2uLf0/s1600/IMG_2848.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgCaDGiwnwACBDM19o-lOk_zzLC9J3GJCZpCc-xIYINkX-nVI7cG6UATI-9W6aXaG9cGYmkLW71xBOHgtjBttnnWcSok6gjMxGhle19jIQDYMWbsHeTgasaTb1y-E5Ye3B9Pws3Zw2uLf0/s320/IMG_2848.JPG" width="213" /></a></div>
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I want to remember that the only way to check to see if Caleb is getting any new teeth is to check when he is screaming. Even then, its difficult. That's why this morning, while at the grocery store, I took the opportunity to check out his new teeth while Caleb screamed in the produce aisle. (For the record, he's got 4 new eye teeth and an impacted molar on the way).<br />
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I want to remember these things and so much more. So I have pondered and treasured these things. I have stored these memories in my heart. I have savoured each moment as it happens. These little things are what make him unique. And my goal was to remember them. And I have.<br />
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So, I took the year off away from the blog. To rest. To enjoy my family. To ponder and treasure. But I will hopefully be back. We've got a fresh new look, a new little one to blog about, and hopefully a few stories to share. Let's journey together and walk through life's adventures.</div>
Unknownnoreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2271721026915999074.post-8164266314185907062015-02-06T20:52:00.000-08:002015-02-06T20:52:00.520-08:00The World According to MicahDan: Micah, did you poop?<br />
Micah: No!<br />
Dan: Then what's this brown stuff in your diaper?<br />
Micah: Sand!Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2271721026915999074.post-50241683683915271472015-02-05T21:08:00.000-08:002015-02-05T21:08:00.030-08:00The World According to JoelJoel was looking at Caleb and then exclaims, "Mommy, Caleb's nose is polka dotted!" (Caleb had baby acne.)<br />
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Grandma: (picking up Caleb) "Come here squirt!"<br />
Joel: Grandma, he's not a gun.<br />
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Amanda: (talking to Caleb) Come here porky!<br />
Joel: Mom! That's not his name. His name is Caleb Elijah!Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2271721026915999074.post-34719741485459462872015-02-04T23:41:00.000-08:002015-02-04T23:41:00.101-08:00Caleb's Birth Story<b>Sunday, January 4th (my due date)</b><br />
I woke up on my due date and issued an eviction notice. Caleb had 18 hours to vacate the womb. I gave him until midnight to GET OUT! (Didn't really think that it would work....but I had high hopes.)<br />
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That morning was snowy. The boys went out to play in the snow, while Dan and I watched the neighbours attempt to make their way up their driveway (they failed epically). We discussed our options about heading to church. Dan was up for staying home, while I was desperate to get out of these four walls. I had been cooped up here for far too many weeks in case of quick delivery (and being too uncomfortable to go far). We decided that if the van made it up the driveway, we would head to church. Lucky for me, we made it up without any issues. (The neighbors have bald tires).<br />
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The rest of the day went on normally. Church. Naps. Dinner. Then things changed. I started having contractions at 5pm that were 10 minutes apart. Pre-labour. AGAIN. For days, I would have prelabour from 5-9pm. (gee, that's reminiscent of Micah's birth as well). In fact, the day before, I told Dan that tonight might be the night (I was wrong).<br />
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From 5-7pm, the contractions were 10 minutes apart. We put the boys to bed at seven.<br />
Then from 7-9pm they were 6-8 minutes apart. Rach (my friend and midwife), called earlier to ask how I was. We talked it through, but I wasn't convinced this was the real thing. <br />
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At 8:15, Tina (my other midwife) called to discuss my contractions. They were both concerned since I've had a history of fast labors, and the roads/weather was bad. There was freezing rain and slushy conditions. They asked if they should come. I told them, no. I didn't want people hanging around in case the contractions stopped. They decided to call back at 9pm to see how I was.<br />
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At 9pm, I had one epic contraction where I actually felt the baby "head down." When Tina called back, I still thought this would fizzle out. In fact, after that one big contraction, it took 12 minutes for the next one to arrive.<br />
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At 9:15, things changed. The contractions change immediately to 3 minutes apart. After 2-3 contractions, I told Dan to call Tina and Rach. This was the real thing and it was going to take time for both of them to show up because of the bad weather. Little did I know, but Tina and Rach were on the phone discussing whether they should break my water to "move things along" when Dan called to say this was definitely labor.<br />
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Every 3 minutes another contraction would come. During this time, I was in the bedroom standing over a towel, thinking that with every contraction I was pissing myself. Later when Tina showed up, she tested my "urine." It was in fact my fore water. Cuz, you know, I had TWO waters! My water had broken! This was the real thing.<br />
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We spent the next hour or so laughing our way through contractions. At one point, I was humming haaaaaa. Dan comes by and asks if I'm singing the hallelujah chorus. At which point, I break out in song. Dan and I were laughing hysterically when Tina walks in the door. She actually asked if I was in labour or if this was a joke. Nope, I was in labour. It took until Rach walked in for her to realize that I like to laugh when I labor.<br />
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We joked around, telling funny stories, while I laboured and they set up equipment. This was the first pregnancy/labour that was not frantic. There was time to set up equipment and to test oxygen etc. It was a pleasant experience.<br />
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But still, deep down in my heart, I had doubts and fears. Every time, the midwives would put the Doppler to my belly, I would hold my breath, thinking that they wouldn't find a heartbeat. I feared delivering a stillborn. But every time, they would reassure me that everything was fine. A nice steady heartbeat. As time went on, I started to believe them. I was going to have a nice healthy baby.<br />
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We continued to joke around and enjoy the time together. Dan was texting Katrina back and forth, since she was praying for us during this experience (and totally curious about what gender we were going to have!) I laboured continuously, laughing between contractions. I was watching the clock as well. This baby had till midnight.<br />
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I remember thinking, "This is getting boring. Time to move things along and get this baby out before midnight." The midwives had offered to break my hind water, knowing that I was stalled at 7cm. At 11:15ish I agreed to get the party started. They broke my hind water with the warning, "The next contraction will be more intense."<br />
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Well, with that contraction, things got intense. No longer were things funny. I remember being soooo hot. Dan went to get a cold washcloth and I was worried that when he went to get it he would miss the whole thing. Hello transition!<br />
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I finally climbed onto the bed on all fours. With the next contraction, the baby went from being above my pubic bone to on my perineum. Hello painful!!!! The midwives kept telling me "to let your uterus do the pushing" in hopes that I wouldn't tear. Easier said than done! If the thoughts in my head could have come out! Yikes! They weren't the ones with a baby's head coming out!<br />
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With the next contraction, the head was out and the following one, at 11:41pm, the baby was out. I heard Dan ask, "What is it?" I looked down and much to my surprise, it was a boy! I was super excited! Throughout my pregnancy, I secretly thought it was a girl. But I didn't want to set my hopes on either gender, for fear of disappointment. But as surprised as I was, I was genuinely excited to be a mom of three boys!<br />
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10 minutes later and the placenta was out. One stitch and another small tear....not bad for the third time. (in fact, if I was a first time mom, they wouldn't have stitched me at all. But because I was going to be up and about, lifting kids, they wanted to ensure a speedy recovery).<br />
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Within two hours, the midwives had left. Our house was cleaned up, the paperwork was finished, breastfeeding established, baby weighed and measured.<br />
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We had our healthy baby boy, born on his due date, before the midnight deadline. Praise the Lord!Unknownnoreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2271721026915999074.post-57712787625998928422015-02-03T20:51:00.000-08:002015-02-03T20:51:31.652-08:00The First Ounce<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjin1QvHhnyyKD6nKPX7-GIJO23X32SOiNJkWdcIwKDDYyT2d31_sXeoEpDlJtNZg06uWwYXQghkShFX0et-HOeh8ZVHfnJsntKlz9SH7YDCKAFvVRJhGyomzirK-plpL3b-16jAVTDkbg/s1600/IMG_3763.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjin1QvHhnyyKD6nKPX7-GIJO23X32SOiNJkWdcIwKDDYyT2d31_sXeoEpDlJtNZg06uWwYXQghkShFX0et-HOeh8ZVHfnJsntKlz9SH7YDCKAFvVRJhGyomzirK-plpL3b-16jAVTDkbg/s1600/IMG_3763.JPG" height="320" width="213" /></a></div>
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The first ounce of many.</div>
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From henceforth, the slow commencement of freezer takeover has begun.</div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhxosSxaqbaHO5SqQGEx3dyS9hkMFjOv3N5-Du5bXBzFeFb5-NhEpEMG_Z8AUYwESQfxCtfSFypqVIKqKRPyqWQNsB1ttYMIYhL0WbGgv2Pnf7PTZ7T7Htxgm3w8dfpkTi5q1mNkK5TOXI/s1600/IMG_3956.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhxosSxaqbaHO5SqQGEx3dyS9hkMFjOv3N5-Du5bXBzFeFb5-NhEpEMG_Z8AUYwESQfxCtfSFypqVIKqKRPyqWQNsB1ttYMIYhL0WbGgv2Pnf7PTZ7T7Htxgm3w8dfpkTi5q1mNkK5TOXI/s1600/IMG_3956.JPG" height="320" width="213" /></a></div>
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Our daily routine includes washing numerous storage bottles, multiple times a day. </div>
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An average of ten ounces a day is stored away.</div>
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Over 240 donate-able ounces ready for the milk bank.</div>
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Another 20 ounces stored for personal use.</div>
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A few bottles ready to be stored in the fridge.</div>
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The question, "Mommy, is this sanitary?" answered multiple times a day.</div>
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Freezer space slowly running out.</div>
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That first ounce.</div>
<br />Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2271721026915999074.post-55477000870603434852015-01-14T14:11:00.005-08:002015-01-14T14:11:29.582-08:00Introducing...<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh0UAZ6Tw0ymH6wKCZ_ryyHuxGKEv1wRFVVKguAW4su8yvmPKyJuXifwDVSHr_7mrI9bpy46y5_Med1t5qDkvqE8eZoir0E-0hV77taJ-TuIqPBJamYCetXQ9uQW3FYEBiXjRiI0rb5060/s1600/IMG_3510.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh0UAZ6Tw0ymH6wKCZ_ryyHuxGKEv1wRFVVKguAW4su8yvmPKyJuXifwDVSHr_7mrI9bpy46y5_Med1t5qDkvqE8eZoir0E-0hV77taJ-TuIqPBJamYCetXQ9uQW3FYEBiXjRiI0rb5060/s1600/IMG_3510.JPG" height="266" width="400" /></a></div>
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our third little boy:</div>
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Caleb Elijah McCrimmon</div>
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born at home</div>
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on his due date, January 4th, 2015 at 11:41pm.</div>
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He weighs 8lb 6oz and was 21" long.</div>
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(Joel was 7lbs 9oz and Micah was 8lbs 9oz, both were 21")</div>
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<br /></div>
<br />Unknownnoreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2271721026915999074.post-70082540107744664812014-12-30T21:47:00.000-08:002014-12-30T21:47:00.595-08:00Mismatched Boots<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhruCWAxA8Pq6K0Zr4rn6EUsZTkO4Sp7bmWXgAwIqZ_ShihsS3k_k9HA_uVDeIgsWINwnqqnNbReslmOgtoM8XucL0sPD4SdDzOKAsysj4dse8Jop7Nt-c2tUUY8sFb3CnJ1XHhAkVI7BA/s1600/IMG_2485.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhruCWAxA8Pq6K0Zr4rn6EUsZTkO4Sp7bmWXgAwIqZ_ShihsS3k_k9HA_uVDeIgsWINwnqqnNbReslmOgtoM8XucL0sPD4SdDzOKAsysj4dse8Jop7Nt-c2tUUY8sFb3CnJ1XHhAkVI7BA/s1600/IMG_2485.JPG" height="213" width="320" /></a></div>
A common occurrence in this house: mismatched boots. The boys virtually wear the same size boots (only one size separates them), so they "share" boots all the time. In fact, having the boys were the same two boots is rare. They prefer to share. I have absolutely no problem with this, especially since they can dress themselves!Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0