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Letter to My Younger Self:

10/28/2022

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It had been years since I had gone for a run in my neighborhood all alone; that is, until today.

For most of my 30’s, I would run the same route through my neighborhood every evening at 6:30pm on the dot. And most importantly, this run, for years, had always consisted of me, myself, and I. No one else.
No dogs were allowed on my run. No children were invited to come, and definitely…definitely, no husband was allowed.

And somehow, I let this important evening ritual just slip away. Runs turned into brisk walks and eventually I lost my backbone when the children pleaded to come along. It wasn’t long after that that my husband would then have his bright red Nike shoes already on, laced up, and tied tight. He’d be waiting at the front door at 6:30pm in his grey under armor shorts and white breathable cotton shirt, like a well-trained dog who hears the word “walk” and goes sprinting with his leash between his teeth on all fours to the door.

The only sacred time I had to myself had gotten lost over the years and today I was feeling desperate to get that desired time back. My alone time had turned into family time or some evenings, spouse time.

Before I even knew what happened, I had stopped spending time with myself. The years trailed on, and it seems that even family time has begun to dissolve and gets pushed down the list of priorities. The kids are now older and in multiple sports and activities and all 6 of us, at 6:30pm every evening, seem to go, in what feels like, a thousand different directions.

Today is different. There is a supernatural force beyond my own, pulling me outside in one clear and defiant direction. This same force leads me to yell at the kids and tell them they can’t come with me because they have homework to finish, dishes to put away, and a desperate plea to my husband to finish the laundry because I need to run; I need to run alone; I need to clear my head.

I scramble out the front door almost tripping over the porch steps to get on the sidewalk. My feet; or maybe this unknown force, has me going quicker than I can keep up. I catch myself before I faceplant on the sidewalk and I take a quick left out of my driveway. My pace is so fast I quickly pass the four houses lined up perfectly with mine without any thought at all. And then something happens. I get to the house at the top of the street and time slows down. Time seems to actually stand still. And a thick fog in the air seems to have me held captive in one spot staring at this house.

It is the sort of house you see featured on HGTV in its prime state directly after getting a makeover and before the family living there has anytime to neglect its new facelift. This house has always taken my breath away but in the more than decade that I’ve whizzed by, driven by, or flown by, I have overlooked it. I stop here to stretch. It seems an appropriate place to take a few extra moments under the shade of the gorgeous sycamore tree. The family who lives here certainly does not neglect their stoic traditional brick home. And tonight, an extra ease comes over me as I gaze at its perfect black shutters and oversized double front door to match. They glisten as the sun heads down for the evening. A soft peacefulness blows in the cool breeze, and I welcome it, as it also seems to unfreeze me.

The house presents two timeless wreaths hanging on each front door; I have noticed they get swapped out for ones each season. Four window boxes decorate the windows on the second story and are perfectly manicured with the most beautiful floral arrangements. I feel the same sense of timelessness within me that this home exudes, and my heart feels like it’s been beating for centuries. The arrangements in the window boxes also change around with the seasons just as the wreaths do. However, today, they are still decorated for fall even though winter is headed our way.  

I feel a sudden jolt in my heart as I realize I too am heading into a new season of my own, and yet, I am feeling stuck in a prior one just like these window boxes. Nature forces change on the seasons without a choice, and maybe I will be propelled out of my own season by force. Although, that is not what I want. I decide, right here in this moment, that my run tonight is exactly what I need to give me the space and clarity in my head to plan for the new season coming. This way I will be able to intentionally walk into this next chapter of my life knowing my exact footing and no one will have to force me.

 I am about to begin my stretching routine and realize there is a mystic energy in the thick air, I lean down to touch my toes and even though I am just shy of 45 years old now I can still put my hands flat on the ground in front of me when I stretch. As I hold this stretch with my head down low, my eyes veer up. The yard is equally manicured as the window boxes and I am sure an average set of eyes looking around wouldn’t need any proof of this, but right in front of me under the sycamore tree is a large rock engraved with “Beautification Award 2022” boldly stating witness to the yard’s beauty.

Next to the rock is a classic wrought iron bench with an intricate design swirling the iron in many directions. I’ve walked and driven passed this bench many times, but tonight the bench is glowing alongside the shutters and front door. The circumference of the shade from the tree branches forms a perfect circle around the bench and where the grass doesn’t grow due to the shade of the tree, there is a perfect circle consisting of short prickly vines on the ground guarding the bench.

I envision myself walking through the prickly vines to sit on the bench and start to wonder if it will transcend me into some secret garden full of withered roses, lilies, and lilacs that all need me to save them and bring them back to life. A tug at my heart tells me I need to bring myself back to life.

After experiencing so much loss and death this year it’s possible that I am not only entering a new season of my own life, but a season that is also life-giving.

My thoughts are getting a bit out of control, and before my mind wanders too far through the prickly vines to place myself on a magic timeless bench to save dying flowers, I decide to reel myself in.

I step over to the brick mailbox at the edge of the street and place one hand on either side. I prop my right foot up onto the brick leaving my heal on the ground and lean forward feeling that hard stretch pull. It shoots right up the back of my leg and lets my sore calf muscle stretch out feeling so good. I breathe deeply and count to twenty. I try to focus on the run ahead of me that will clear my mind. It has been getting so noisy in my head lately and I really could use some clarity.  I take my foot off the brick mailbox flat to the ground with two feet I bounce on my tip toes a few times. I prop up my left foot to stretch that calf.

As I feel the tension pull up the back of my leg, I lean in harder and come face to face with the most elegant carriage house die-cast lamp sitting atop the brick column mailbox. The lamp looks to be 100 years old, about how old I feel right now, and I am thrusted back into some magical daydream.

How many families have lived in this house I wonder? How many families has this lamp protected each night?  Has this beautiful dye-cast lamp watched over countless children that played in the front yard or that stood in line right here to catch the school bus each morning? Has this lamp heard bickering from the married couple inside on dark evenings coming from the master bedroom window, or the slamming of the front door and pealing out of the driveway at midnight? Has this magical lamp watched intently as the same couple danced in the kitchen and kissed passionately?

Right below the lamp in the center of the pillar is an antique copper door flush with the brick. The door displays just one small knob on the right and has a large calligraphy “E” in the center. Underneath in smaller print reads “The Edevane’s”. Below that in even smaller print reads “Established in 1948”. I decide the lamp is not 100 years old after all, but close. And surely many families have lived here, as I know the current family is not the Edevane’s, but I suppose it is hard to erase history. If I lived here, I would leave the original owners name here as well to honor the past. I go back to imagining this sophisticated lamp and how it must know all the contents of the mail that has come and gone in and out of this impressive copper mailbox door.

I give my head a good shake to the left and the right and figure I better get this run started so I can clear my head and stop with all the silly thoughts. A run has always been the only way I can truly clear my head, and quite possibly escape.

I may have actually been in my 20’s when I learned that I can’t escape myself entirely. It became evident that no matter how far I ran, I was, in fact, always still there; stuck with myself everywhere I go. There is no distance and no pace that can make me escape myself. Somehow, I am always still there, stuck with me. But a good run alone will allow me to escape the clutter and noise in my head, at least, that is the plan for this run.

Over the last decade, most of the noise and clutter in my head came from all the people I loved; my four wonderful children, along with my husband. They were the loudest noises. All their many needs, wants and desires and somehow, I seemed to be the only one who could meet them. These noises, back then, pushed with force into my head. Pressure building up until it finally would break through and pierce my brain at a faster rate than I can process it, like a thumbtack going through a corkboard. There seemed to be no easy way to just prick the thumbtacks right out, so I would run back then to escape the noise. As I ran the thumbtacks slowly, one at a time would prick out of my head and float through the wind, some longer than others, until they hit the pavement beside me and I simply and carefreely I would run right passed them never to see them again.  

Lately, however, the noise in my head is from other loved ones. In fact, from loved ones I’ve recently lost. My dad called less than a year ago to tell me he was sick. Countless trips to see him, 18 hours away, leaving my own family behind. I left my husband to pick up all the pieces when I jumped on yet another plane without warning for the next emergency, with no date of when I would return. I still worry I didn’t spend enough time with him. I know I didn’t say all the things I needed to. And right in the middle of dad’s cancer treatments my younger brother, at the age of 38, had a stroke. More traveling to a different city to be with him as he was intubated, then recovered, did therapy to recover more, and getting better. Praying and begging God, pleading with God, day after day, to heal them both.

My father and my brother; both stuck in hospital beds unable to see each other and then both buried within 6 months of each other. Dead.

I’ve been managing my children’s feelings of loss. Their uncle and grandfather now gone. I’ve kept my fulltime job in sales; my clients happy enough, and I’ve even been able to grow business; I’ve done the laundry and fed my tribe. Can you believe these people eat three meals a day…every day? I’ve gone through the emotions of sadness and despair. Anger and resentment. Loneliness and confusion. Guilt and denial. Panic and anxiety. Relief and calm. Fear and exhaustion, hope and strength. I settle tonight on a sense of strength to keep my focus on as my feet are taking me fast and my muscle memory has my body practically flying on the pavement.  

These noises are racing out of my head, finally, as I pick up speed. But they are still swirling around me like a tornado. With so much loss this year has also come betrayal from people I thought I knew. Death of a loved one reaches into your soul deeper and it exposes you; the good and the bad. Death of a loved one exposes who we are at our core. Some might call it misplaced grief, but now I understand it as an exposed soul. And that exposure raw and somehow toxic for some.

I feel jaded. I want desperately to be strong, and weakness is entering my head; I’m focusing on my strength, I’m running fast. Maybe I am broken like my husband told me last month. And maybe I can never be put together again. “Humpty Dumpty sat on a wall…”, my brain starts to sing, as and these thoughts pierce through my heart. I am broken.

There is a new season ahead of me, one in which I need to bring myself back to life and mend the brokenness.  The noises in my head are not falling to the sidewalk beside me like I want them to, like they always do; something else is happening. They are following me, haunting me on my run. Maybe I am not supposed to move passed this hardship. Maybe I cannot escape this noise. Maybe some history needs to be held onto. I have released a lot of noise and like a raincloud above one’s head it is dangling above me. I was not prepared for this thunderstorm, but at least it is now above me and no longer within me.

I stop abruptly and realize I’ve already gone my usual route around the entire neighborhood, and I am standing back in front of this stunning, timeless, house. I’m sweating profusely and not sure if it’s from the brisk run or from my anxiety releasing through my pores. I feel good; better, I think to myself, but I want to linger a bit more before I go home. I need to slow my heart rate before walking back into my own external cyclone of checking homework, packing lunches for tomorrow, figuring out sports schedules for the week ahead, locking up devices before bed, getting four kids into bed, spending quality time with my husband and finally looking at my own work schedule to see what meetings I need to prepare for.

I decide to warm down slowly and take my time stretching. I hold the brick mailbox, just as I had done an hour earlier, one hand on either side. I lift my right foot up onto the brick column and lean in for a good stretch. The copper mailbox door glistens, even though the sun has already set, and when I look down, I see a large calligraphy “JRH” on it. I blink a few times and carefully read below it, “Jenny R. Hardison”. Under my name it reads “Established in 2127”. I jump back scared to touch the mailbox. I’m certain I am seeing things. Why does my neighbor’s mailbox have my name on it? I look around wondering if someone is going to jump out from behind the sycamore tree and yell, “Smile, you are on a hidden camera!” 
 
“Oh no,” I moan out loud as I remember that I ate those absurd gummies last night. My husband swore they were FDA approved for anxiety and sleep and honestly for the first time in months I slept.  But maybe they were laced with something. I've never taken any gummy before, so that must be it, I am hallucinating. I stare at the antique copper mailbox, and it still has my name on it. Is it a federal crime to open someone else’s mail, I wonder? But the mailbox clearly has my name on it. Before I can think through the ramifications of me opening my neighbor’s mailbox and before I have time to think about the Ring camera catching me on video, I’ve already swung the heavy copper door open, and I see absolutely nothing inside.

“Thank goodness” I begin to tell myself; I am seeing things; I am definitely hallucinating. Relief flows through my bones.

I begin to close the door slowly and hope no neighbors are spying and wondering what on earth I could be doing. But in a millisecond, just like that, a pink envelope with my name appears out of nowhere. Smack-dab in the center of the box. I grab it and slam the copper door shut, looking over my shoulder, I see no one there and without hesitation I flip it over and there is a golden wax seal with my initials carved in it “JRH” and if I didn’t know better, these initials seem to be in my handwriting.

The wax feels a little warm to touch like it is still settling in, but without thinking I’ve already torn the seal open on the envelop. I recognize the handwriting right away as my own and read outload “Dearest Jenny”, but before I get to the next sentence, a life size hologram of an old lady appears right before my eyes.

“Hi Jenny”, she says in a soft sophisticated voice. “I need to make this quick because I only paid for 3 minutes, and I know you have a lot of questions you want to ask. I cannot hear you, but I am the future you, in case you were wondering and didn’t recognize yourself.”

Hell no, I didn’t recognize myself, I look 100 years old, literally, although I have to admit my skin looks refreshingly young under all that grey hair. 

“Technology has come a long way over the last 100 years,” she says, “I am…well, I mean…you are now…I mean…we are now 149 years old. The average lifespan, of you can believe it, is 150 and well you know how you like to defy the odds,” she giggles, “We are healthy at 149!" she says as she throws a fist up in the air.

"Science has come a long way. We have a cure for cancer and really all diseases at this point. People still die of aircraft accidents, well we don’t call them cars anymore, they are mini aircrafts! Murders still happen because we haven’t found a way to eradicate the evil of the human heart, but we do, however, live much, much, much longer now a days."

She takes a deep breath and goes on, “Oh, and everyone is good. I wanted to tell you that. The kids are all grown, and the grands, great-grands, the triple-grands, and the quad-grands are all well and they are growing up fast!”  She shouts some weird, “Woo-hoo,” and throws her fist back up in the air, “We have the best family gatherings. You have so much to look forward to. And we have this new thing where we can talk to the past, well obviously, you can see that now, and it’s not new-new as they’ve had bugs and tweaks, they’ve had to work out of it, but pretty new. We can go back and talk to our younger selves.”

She begins talking much faster now, “But again, I only have 2 minutes left... so here it goes…. you are a strong woman. Your strength is at your core. You are a cornerstone for your family and for your community. Your ability to provide calmness for so many people, along with a sense of order and belonging only strengthens with age for you. Many look up to you. And while you always feel a raging river inside you, you are channeling it for good. And I wish you had a cheerleader to tell you these things. And you don't, so I am here. But my dearself, you need to make time for yourself. You need to be easier on yourself; meditate on the Grace that has been bestowed on you. It has been an especially hard year for you. And it is time for you to evolve into a better, stronger version of yourself. Ourself.” She gives a curtsey and lifts her skirt with each hand off to the sides.

Wait a minute! I’m wearing a skirt?? I say under my breath, 'Is this really me'? She...me... goes on, “It is time you find a way to keep your mind healthy and sharp and escape all that obnoxious noise in your head. You need your alone time to recharge.”

She continues, “And you know” she rolls her eyes, “this big magical house you've been in awe of? It gets torn down eventually. They build a Boxhome here. The kids who live here are rotten and spoiled and the yard goes to shit.”  She’s practically yelling my name, “Jenny, are you listening? They all turn into boxhomes.” but I am so mesmerized, and I start to look 'to see if anyone is around as a witness, But then I hear her and I think,, 'What in the world is a Boxhome?' 



“You know, Minecraft homes,” she says, as if she is reading my thoughts. Is she reading my thoughts? I mean she says she is me. Am I still hallucinating?

She goes on, “Please understand that things are just things”, she says. “And things are all fleeting; they fade and wither like the grass. You are nearing death too my dearest self, now at 149 years old, you may only have a few years left, if we really can defy odds. Even you will wither from this Earth like the grass.” She leans down and touches the grass, well actually the pavement, but I guess when she filmed this there was grass under her.

“There is only one thing that remains and stands the test of time in this world,” She holds up her finger and points to her chest.  “Your soul, your exposed soul."
 
Wow, wait, did she just use my thought's I had a minute ago on my run? Is she really me? I mean, we do think alike. Was she in my head on the run? Is she the future me or the me, me? I am so confused but I am taking it all in.

“So lastly, before I go, I want to tell you how important it is that you take care of yourself; but also, your husband and your children; they are your legacy. Put all that noise in your head out on paper if you need to and share your thoughts if that is what clears out your soul, do it for both of us. Words will outlive us. Your story is a window to your soul.”

And with that the hologram of me starts to fade away. She is losing her color and becomes fuzzy and is now black and white. “Oh, and one more thing” she’s waving her finger in my face now, “Your family, she starts to flicker in and out and I am a little offended that I’m waiving a finger in my own face. I make a mental note to never waive my finger again at anyone the rest of my 100+ years. “Life is hard but push through. You plateau in a few years and then you are on higher ground, so keep pushing through those hard days and years and you will land on two feet,” she starts to flicker and I’m holding on to every word now, “You will rise up,” she finally finishes. Just as I think she is gone, she appears back without any fading, darker, actually and with the loudest, strongest voice, she says, “You, my dearself, are stronger than you know, remember that. Set your eyes and your soul on what is eternal.”   
​
I stare at the letter in my hands, and within moments it too is gone. Evaporated into thin air. 

The copper door on the mailbox has an “E” on it again and the history of the Edevane’s family still stands. Will this house really be torn down one day and a box house built? I wonder. What even is a Boxhouse? What even just happened? Will the Edevane’s name be torn down too? My turtle-like pace takes me back to my own front door and I am a bit nervous I might see a flying unicorn or a pot of gold as I slowly make my way back to my home. I feel the magic in the air, but I have no idea if what I just experienced is real or not.

It feels real.

I open my front door. There is a huge fort in the dining room. Every blanket we own has been strung up to the light fixtures hanging down and around the chairs and there are 4 flashlights underneath the dining room table. I think how sweet it is that at my kids ages, practically teens now, they still play together.

Maybe we don’t have a perfectly manicured yard or a magical wrought iron bench, but we have love and memories. I look over to my husband and back at my kids. My gaze is fixed on nothing and on everything at the same time and my husband comments that I look like I saw a ghost.

I mean the guy is pretty insightful. I say to him, and everyone, and maybe no one at all, because I am not even sure who I am talking to, "I am going to go and write it all down."  


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Security

11/14/2016

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this morning when we woke up together in the same bed, it marked the first day of our thirteenth year of marriage.

It it took me back 12 years ago when we woke up on this exact day, next to each other for the first time as a married couple. Our first day married.

We were here sleep deprived, not just due to all the events leading up to our "big day" but the emotions that come with it had wiped us out physically.

Not it to mention we had to get up early to drive to Atlanta to catch a flight for our honey moon. Nor the fact that after our reception ended the night before we both realized we hadn't packed for our honey moon yet and frantically through a bag of mixed matched clothes together at midnight.

Through sll all the physical exhaustion and mental, my husband of only a few hours looked over at me in the hotel bed we were sharing and said, "it's not about me anymore. It's about us and it's my job to take care of us".

​Well I'll fast forward 12 years and here we are taking care of four little ones.
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Respect The 'All Done'

3/2/2016

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We taught our children some basic sign language before they could even talk.


They easily learned to give us cues using their hands to communicate how they were feeling by the time they were 6 months old. We didn't teach them much, but the few signs we did teach them could be used to express a multitude of feelings. We taught them four basic signs: more, all done, please and thank you.


Often times my children would sign things that made perfect sense to me


When my first born, Lucia, was about 8 months old, she pulled herself up to the couch where I was sitting with a bowl of ice cream. She put her hand up to her chest and rubbed her chest to say "please".

From her signing "please" I knew she was asking me to give her some of my ice cream. When I didn't share with her right away, she began bending her knees with a little bounce that helped her get up on her tipee-toes, over and over and she then began rubbing her chest almost violently.

She didn't have to scream or cry to get her point across to me. She was able to use her sign language to let me know that she really ,really, really, wanted me to share my ice cream with her.  She continued to sign "please" over and over until I finally put a little bite on the spoon and right into her mouth.

She immediately smiled, put her hand to her chin and singed "thank you" which was quickly followed by touching her fingertips from one hand to the other repetitively as she then asked for "more".
I had no problem sharing my ice cream with her. At  8 months old children watch and learn from what we do. They mimic us and want to do everything like us. It made sense to me that she wanted to eat my ice cream, and how could I blame her for asking for more. I too always want more ice cream!


Other times my kids would sign something I couldn't identify with and wasn't sure how to respond  


We were visiting my dad on Key Biscayne. Although she was only 6 months old, it was not her first trip to the island. I introduced the ocean to her at just  weeks old when we made our first trip to my dad's house. I wanted her to love the ocean as much as I did when I was a kid and I never wanted her to be a stranger to the water.  So I took her often and frequent.

As I held my little girl we ventured out into the ocean  further and further and the waves got a little higher and higher. 

Each time a wave came I'd hold her up so they'd splash on her chest and back.

But as they splashed some of the salt water would get on her face and she'd squint her eyes shut and pucker her lips.

I'd laugh and giggle and kiss her. I'd wipe the water off her face and let her know it was okay. If I was calm, she'd be calm, right?

Wrong.

It didn't take long before she threw her hands up in the air and began to twist her wrists back and forth.

That is the sign in sign language for "all done".
I was not ready for her to be "all done".  And as her mother I should know what's best for her right? She wasn't in any real danger and I wanted her to love the ocean and if I didn't force her to stay out in the ocean with me then I was letting her know it was okay to quit and I'm not a quitter and I don't want her to be a quitter either and I wanted to stay in the water with her and show her that the ocean was good and not something to dislike or be afraid of and maybe if I just got her away from the waves she'd stop signing "all done" and she'd be okay...
I wiped the salt water out of her eyes again, gave her more kisses and told her not to worry, the water didn't hurt and I tried to laugh it off and looked for a smile in return. But her smile never came, as a matter of fact, the more I tried to convince her that it was ok the stronger her wrist flips got and the more intense she tried to let me she was "all done".
I was left with no choice but to respect her desire to get out of the ocean.
We made it back to the shore where she sat and happily played in the sand. And even when she tried to eat the sand, she still seemed happy that she wasn't in the ocean at that moment.

Picture

We went back out into the ocean in strides and each time she would hit a point where she would put her hands in the air and flip her wrists and tell us that she was "all done."


Respect the all done


My husband and I jokingly began to use the phrase "respect the all done" everytime my daughter motioned she was ready to get out of water.  We have continued to say this phrase hundreds of times over the last 6 years as parents to remind us to listen to our children when they communicate their needs to us, even when we don't understand them.


You see, as a new mother, this was a valuable lesson for me.  A lesson that taught me to listen to my children even when their needs for themselves might differ from what I thought they needed. 

A lesson that my children's needs are often times different from my own.

A lesson which taught me that my children will communicate to me what their personal needs are based on their personal strengths and weaknesses.

And as their mother my strengths and weaknesses may be different from theirs. A lesson that  I need to respect their needs the best I can when they express them to me even when I don't understand.

Because it might be possible that when I listen to their needs and hear them and meet them the best I can I am teaching them that I respect them.

And it is possible that if I respect them I am building up their confidence. And if their confidence is built up,  it is possible they will walk through this world full of respect for themselves and for those around them. 
  

My daughter is now 6 year old and I'm still learning to respect her boundaries in order to gain her trust.


On a normal day when I pick my kids up from school, they throw their lunch boxes and backpacks at me in the front seat and they pile in the car. Just picture a clown car where 29 clowns pile into a VW bug, that's what we look like at the pick up line.

And before they are even in their car seats or buckled, all 4 of them, full of excitement from their day at school start to talk at the same time. And with as much speed and volume as an auction announcer they each tell me what fun things they did at school.

Earlier this week was no different from any other day. They all fought for air as they spoke at the same time...

And I yelled for silence.



And just like every other school day. I gave permission to one child at a time to talk and tell me about their day. And one at a time they spoke while everyone respectfully listened.

Olivia, my more sensitive child went first. Each day she likes to tell me how she made it through the school day without crying. She has a hard time speaking up and sharing how she feels with her teacher and peers, so I've been teaching her this year that her words are more powerful than her tears. She beamed with pride as she told me how she used her words at PE to tell her PE teacher she was upset she wasn't on her twin brother Lochman's team. Her teacher listened to her and placed her on the same team as her brother.  And just as she was about to finish her story...  

Lucia piped up and said...
"Well, I cried today at recess."
I think all of us in the car were a little surprised by that. She is the oldest child and the other children look up to her. She's a big first grader. Why would she cry at recess? 

So I immediately replied, "What happened? Did you get hurt?

And for the first time in my parenting experience I heard these words and they rolled off her tongue as clear as day:  "I don't want to tell you."


She no longer uses sign language like she did when she was 6 months old. Now at the age of 6 she speaks her words and her feelings with her voice. 

But as I looked back in my review mirror waiting to hear the answer to my question if she got hurt, I made eye contact with her and listened as she spoke the same words again, "I don't want to tell you".

But even though I heard the words come out of her mouth, I envisioned a time before she could talk when she would throw her hands up in the air and rotate her wrists. "I'm all done".   

I saw her, with her words, tell me she was all done.

And It took everything I had to respect that.

I asked a few more questions if her teacher or friends knew she was crying, did she go to the office, etc... She answered those questions with a  little smile and seemed to be in good spirits, but stood firm on her "I don't want to tell you" why response.
We spent the next 10 minutes of the car ride home making up silly reasons as to why she might have cried at recess.

"A hawk scooped down out of a tree and landed on your head and its force knocked you over and you fell on a stick that got caught on your dress and when you got up your dress tore and you got embarrassed and hid behind a tree to cry."

She joined in the fun and made up silly reasons as to why she might have cried and we all laughed, but the facts and seriousness of the day was that my 6 year old wanted to let me know she cried at school but didn't want to give me any more information then that. She was "all done" sharing.   

And as her mother, I had to respect that.
When she went to bed that night I told her I was sorry she had cried at school and I thanked her for sharing that with me. And I told her that I respected that she didn't want to tell me why. I told her some things are private and sometimes we need to process our feelings by ourselves before we share them. And of course I told her that if she ever needed to tell me why she cried that day or any day, I would always listen and as long as it is not harmful to anyone, I will always respect when she is done sharing.
I didn't tell her about the time when she was 6 months old and I respected that she was all done in the ocean. I didn't tell her that we got back in the water for longer periods of time each time before she'd throw up her hands and twist her wrists to say she was done again and we'd get back out.

Because the thing is that now at the age of 6, I can't keep her out of the water.

She spent last summer in the pool and the ocean, upset every time we had to get out of the water to go home. All winter long she has begged me to take her to the covered pools and asked when the neighborhood pool will open again.

She asks me daily if she is finally old enough to be on the swim team and dreams of a day that she can swim with the dolphins.

Her goal in life is to be a dolphin trainer.

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It is my hope for my children that in the same way Lucia learned to trust the water by having her boundaries respected, that she and all my children will learn to trust me and others around them with their feelings as they have their personal boundaries respected.

Respect the all done.

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The Day Axel Was Evicted

2/2/2016

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Axel means "Father of Peace".

But "Peace" was the furthest thing I was feeling that day.
I remember the day, like it was yesterday. My husband came home from work with his usual, "how was your day?" question as he walked through the house tripping over puzzle pieces and blocks scattered across the floor, crunching old crackers under his feet as he navigated his way through the screams of 3 small toddlers excited to see their daddy while bouncing off the walls of our 1500 sq ft home. 
In this particular "core" memory (for those of you who love Inside Out, I'm still trying to decide if it gets filed with Joy or Sadness) we were standing in the kitchen and I did not answer his question at all. 

I just looked at him.

Blankly.

I went to reach into my back pocket, but before I could reach in and pull out the positive pregnancy test he GASPED!


"OH MY GOSH! YOU'RE PREGNANT!" He shouted. "I KNEW IT," he said!. And then he said something like, "I was just thinking four kids wouldn't be so bad."

What? Was he excited about this? Four kids wouldn't be so bad? What was he talking about? How in the world did he know I was pregnant? I didn't even know I was pregnant. I was in pure shock. This dumb little test had two extremely dark lines on it but I was convinced it was a mistake. The test must have been wacky!

Because this whole conversation was wacky! Why were we talking about this anyway?

It was just weeks ago we had celebrated our daughters 3rd birthday and our twins 1st birthday. How could he be excited about another one and how in the world did he already know about this?

I quickly began to think that he must have had something to do with this.
I threw the positive pregnancy test at him as he smiled from ear to ear. I wasn't sure I liked how happy he was about this. And when I accused him of having something to do with this his response was:

"I better have had!"

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I should not have been embarrassed, but I was, as I wheeled my 3 itty-bitty's into the store to buy a pregnancy test earlier that day! At least my husbands response was so much better than the check out clerks response! She looked at my cart full of kids and looked at my purchase and asked me if I knew what caused babies.


And for the next 7 months I was in shock and maybe a bit of denial.

You see, I had just gotten down to a size 4! A size 4 people, after having twins! It was a huge accomplishment and back in my running shoes regularly and I was finally feeling that with the twins turning one I was ready to take care of myself again. I had cleaned out my closet of all things "maternity" and the thought of wearing another pair of maternity jeans made me want to gag!

I also had just given all of my baby stuff away in hopes that the twins would grow up faster than they should have.

You see, I loved being pregnant and I loved my babies more than life itself, but mentally I had just checked out of the "baby-stage". I had just finished nursing the twins and I mentally thought I was done. I had a 3 year old and two 1 year olds. How could I have another baby?

Not to mention we had just downsized our house. Two months prior we had moved into a smaller house to save money and here I was pregnant? I had 7 months to wrap my head around being a mom of 4 kids under the age of 4.

That's right, I said 7 months.

This was the shortest pregnancy ever for me.

Not because he was born early. As a matter of fact, he came late. It was the shortest pregnancy for me because when I finally realized I was pregnant this baby already measured larger than two months along. 

I didn't really know when my due date was so when they gave me a due date of late January based on his size I took it and went with it.



My belly was just as large, if not larger than when I was pregnant with the twins less than two years prior. Someone seriously asked me if I was pregnant with triplets.

Is that even a question people ask? Bypass twins and "Hey, are you pregnant with triplets?"

Rude.

My doctor was losing patience with me too. He did not want me to go further than a week past my "made up due date". Especially with this baby measuring as big as he was.

But here is the thing...

I really wanted to "go into labor" with this baby on my own. Like I REALLY wanted to. I hadn't asked for this pregnancy, but since he was here and coming I wanted a chance to "go into labor" on my own that I didn't have with my other two births. 

I was induced with Pitocin when my first daughter was born because my water had torn and was leaking before labor was even close to starting.

Then with the twins I scheduled to have my water broken so I could get labor moving along.


So I was determined to go into labor without being induced...

I spent days running up and down our basement stairs with toddlers in my arms for added weight. I bounced endlessly on our Exercise Ball with a toddler on each leg and one hanging on my back.

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What is a Birth Ball?


It was February 2nd and while everyone was tuned into the TV to see if the groundhog saw his shadow and we'd have 6 more weeks of winter, I was only focused on one thing: trying to get this baby out of my womb.  

My husband’s alarm when off that Saturday morning at 5:00am. He planned to wake up and go swimming early before the kids got up.

But I had other plans.


I wanted this baby out weeks ago. And while my husband casually  joked with me that the “baby-getter-outter” was the same as the “baby-getter-inner”, it was no joke to me.

Not today anyway.

And while that "baby getter-in and baby getter-out" had not seemed to work yet I figured I’d try and try again until it did.  

Needless to say he never made it to his swim class and my contractions started almost immediately.

Eventually we got up and took the kids to Costco to stock up on some food for the third week in a row. I'm not kidding when I say that I thought this baby was going to be born three weeks ago! So every week I'd go stock up on groceries and make freezer meals with the anticipation that he was going to be born and then I'd never get to the store again with a new baby and 3 toddlers in tow.

After Costco, we stopped at the bike shop like every mom of three about to burst out a fourth child should do.

The shop owner asked me if I was going to have the baby on his shop floor.

I was not alarmed by his question. In fact at this point I'd gotten completely used to every stranger I ran into asking me some personal or rude question about my pregnancy, my body, my baby, my family, or my business.

I had been asked that very question for the last 4 years. Since I've been pregnant for what felt like an eternity, but actually has only been 4 short years with 4 amazing children!

I knew I made people uncomfortable.

Especially men.

They saw how enormous my belly was. And it was huge. Unnatural looking really. And they couldn't help but stare as my enormous belly got thrown about while I chased three small toddlers. I'm sure all they thought as soon as I lifted one of my 30 lb kids up I might drop a baby out in front of them! And honestly, I wish I would've.

I eventually stopped paying attention to everyone around me unless spoken to.

But one afternoon when we took the kids to the Nature Center, I noticed a man staring at me and the kids. I said to my husband, "we need to get out of here that man is creeping me out. He keeps staring at me and the kids". My husband busted out laughing. He replied with, "have you looked at yourself lately? Everyone stares at you and the kids."
I loved being pregnant. But I was also tired of being pregnant. And I'm certain the world was tired of looking at me pregnant.
I smiled at the shop owner and said “Yes, It is possible considering his due date was last week. But he hasn't fallen out yet so I doubt he's coming now.”

He gave a little laugh and said, “Yeah, after having 3 you probably would know if he was coming.”

The truth is I did know he was coming. I was certain he was coming. I was hiding the intense contractions I was having all day from everyone and I hid the one I was having during my conversation with him.


We got home and put the kids down for their nap.

And as too I sat down to rest I felt my contractions slow down. I panicked.

It had been 2  days earlier that I had woken up with timed contractions minutes apart in the middle of the night and I knew he was coming. I walked around for hours timing then. I decided to lay down and I fell asleep only to wake up four hours later  to absolutely not one contraction. I was in tears because they had stopped. I called my doula right away. She told me that was my body getting ready and it would be any day now.

Her exact words were, "Jenny, no one has been pregnant forever, Axel will come soon". And I found those words so comforting because moments before I was certain I was going to be pregnant forever.

There is this strange pressure from people everywhere when you are pregnant that your baby isn't being born fast enough. My doctor refused to let me go a week past my due date before inducing me. My nurse told me every time I walked in for a check up that I was huge and needed to consider inducing. Friends and family constantly asked when my due date was and when it passed it was like the pressure from them just felt really intense. And then it seemed like people I didn't even know were asking me why I was still pregnant.

"Waiting" for this baby to come on his own was beginning to lose it's appeal as the pressure from all the people around me made me doubt that he ever was going to be born on his own. 

But I was determined to go into labor on my own with this one.


As the kids napped, I decided I better not let my contractions slow down. I called for Paul's help as he rarely says no to an opportunity and didn't say no to this one. He didn't exactly say yes either, but without agreeing,  he agreed.  I was serious about getting this baby out today. 

It was now 2:00pm and my contractions were as intense as ever and they were now regular about every 15 minutes. Maybe the baby-getter-outter was actually working.
I was however, not ready to acknowledge them just yet nor tell anyone about them. After having timed contractions two nights earlier 3 minutes apart that never intensified and dissolved after four hours I was not about to jinx this.

I left the house just after 3:00 to pick up my mom from the airport. I had several contraction now that were getting closer together but again, deep down I was worried they were going to go away so I didn’t want to get anyone excited, including myself. I hid them and ignored them the best I could. When I saw my mom, I lightly joked that "today could be the day" and deep down I was hoping I was right.


I decided I’d run errands with my mom before heading home.  I figured if I kept moving the contractions would keep coming. And it was easier to handle the contractions if I was busy doing other things rather than concentrating on the pain.

I saw a friend as we pulled into the parking lot of Target and we chatted through the car windows and right through a piercing contraction.

Later in Target a ran into my daughters friend and her dad. We chatted and I still wonder to this day if he noticed me squeezing the box of diapers in my hands as I was in the middle of a contraction during our conversation.


When my mom and I finally made it home, all the kids greeted her with pure joy and excitement. They love seeing their grandmother.

I began putting groceries away and started making dinner. 

It was close to 5:30 and as I sat the kids down and began to serve their plates, I realized that I wasn't able to hide my contractions any longer.  I grabbed hold of the counter with a hot pan of lasagna in my hand and began to moan only that moan a pregnant lady in labor can do.

My mom and my husband looked right at me and both said, "Are you ok?" And then very dumbfoundly said,  "Are you having a...contraction?"

I think I finally was coming unraveled after an entire day of contractions.

"YES!" I shouted, "That was a contraction!!! I've been having them ALL DAY."

 Because something happens when I go into labor. I get sarcastic and maybe a little passive aggressive. I was annoyed no one knew I was having full blown contractions, and yet, I had worked so hard to hide them from everyone all day, including myself.  

The kids started to get so excited. My mom started to get so excited. And I was just glad it was out in the open now and I was ready to to get this over with.

I knew what to do and was I was ready to do it.

There was no way I could show my mom where everything was so she could hold  down the fort while we headed to the hospital. My contractions were minutes apart and I was in noticeable pain and out of breath. I called our trusty babysitter Emily to come help my mom and then immediately called my doula, Wendy, to let her know this baby was coming.

My doula advised me to stay put and she was on her way to the house to help me time the contractions and labor with me until it was time to head to the hospital.  

  

My contractions were so intense. They were moments, sometimes seconds apart. I felt like I needed to get to the hospital. Right away. 

So Paul and I got in the car and I called my doula back and told her to meet me at the hospital instead of coming to the house.

I hung up the phone and with out warning I began to cry. Uncontrollably cry.

I cried because I was in so much pain.

I cried because I had been in so much pain all day and was holding it in.

I cried because I had been hiding it from everyone and I finally felt that I could release it.

I cried because I felt free to be in pain and for the first time that day I could show someone else I was in pain.

I cried because I finally let myself know it was OK to be in pain.

I cried because I knew in the next minutes or hours I was going to meet this baby.

I cried in excitement to hold this baby boy in my arms.

I cried because I will never understand the miracle of life.

I cried because I was overwhelmed with the thought of a beautiful baby.

I cried the entire 5 minute drive to the hospital.


Paul foolishly tried to pull the car up to the labor and delivery roundabout at the hospital to drop me off. I gave him that look like you've got to know me better than that. The tears were gone and now I meant business.

I made him drive out to the furthest parking spot he could find so I could walk and carry my own bags figuring the walk would help push the baby down more and keep things moving along. I wanted to walk into the hospital, get checked in, have the nurse look and say, "wow, you're a 10 and he's coming right now!"

But that of course did not happen.


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I got checked in and my Doula arrived within minutes with her exercise ball in hand just like the previous two times she was with me for my births. She had her hair ties and headbands and her soothing voice and she right away summoned a nurse to bring me a cup full of crushed ice.

She reminded me to stay focused, she moaned in low tones along side me reminding me keep my moaning tones low, and she immediately began to rub the wrinkles out of my forehead telling me to relax and let my body do the work.

This was not our first rodeo together. Wendy was my Doula when Lucia was born and when the twins were born. 

I give all the credit to her and my doctor and some really amazing nurses for why I was able to have Lucia and the twins natural, unmedicated, vaginal and without an epidural. And I while I was really hoping to accomplish the same thing with baby number 4, I also knew in my heart as long as we all came out on the other end alive and healthy nothing else really mattered.

So without any introductions we both got to work.


I was beyond thrilled when D'Neil walked into my room. I wanted to kiss him. He was my nurse when Lucia was born and he was fabulous. I couldn't have planned it better for him to be working that night and to be assigned to me. 

But then they gave me the discouraging news that my doctor was not on duty that weekend and a different doctor would be filing in for him. My doctor had delivered Lucia and the twins. He knew me and how I labored. He knew my birth plan and I didn't want someone I had never met before delivering my baby.

I wanted to cry.

My doula assured me that she knew the doctor on duty and I had nothing to worry about. I was relieved, but noticeably disappointed.  I began to scheme a way that I could get D'Neil and my Doula to deliver the baby before some unknown doctor I had never met showed up to take over.

But  just as I began to morn the loss of my doctor not being there a nurse with an angel's halo ring glowing around her head came in and with what sounded to me like an angelic singing voice said sang these words: "they were able to get a hold of your doctor on the phone and even though he is not on duty this weekend he will be here to deliver your baby."

A sigh of relief came over me.

I was now ready...well...until I felt disappointed yet again...

You see, I really thought being ready meant I was going to be 8-10 cm dilated when I arrived.  After all I had been having these intense contractions all day and now they were seconds apart.

Nurse D'Neil delivered the disappointing news that I was barely 5 cm and that I'd likely be there for a while.

But here are the facts:

 I checked into the hospital at 6:30pm...

and... 

Axel was born at 8:53pm.



When I got the news I was barely 5 cm dilated I knew I had some work to do and I prepared to do whatever had to be done.


So here is what happened in the next two and a half hours.

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I squatted.

I yelled.

I pushed.

I walked.

I laid down.

I cried.

I squatted more.

I walked more.

I pushed more, I yelled more, I creid more.

And I took a lot of deep breaths in between.

I listened to my husband and my doula remind me over and over and over to focus and keep calm and get my composure together; keep my moaning tones low, let my body do all the work, and did I mention keep calm?

I told my nurse D'Neil that I was ready to be checked again because I was certain I had progressed.

He looked disappointed as he told me I was only about 8 cm. I felt disappointed too.

But he had a plan. He said, "I might be able to stretch you to a 9 during your next contraction." He shrugged his shoulders and said it in a tone like he knew I would never agree to that.

And well, he looked shocked when I shouted with more enthusiasm than anything to "please, please, please, stretch me to a 9 because I want this baby out."


My next contraction did not bring me to a 9.

It brought me to a 10.

Which also brought great panic in the laboring room.

The nursing staff frantically tried to get my doctor on the phone.

It looked like D'Neil was going to be delivering this baby after all.

The doctor on call wasn't even at the hospital, so they brought in an assistant for D'Neil and everyone began prepping the room for delivery.

A nurse came in and said that my Doctor was on the phone. He was out for an evening jog and as soon as he could get to his car he'd be there. His orders were for me not to push until he got there.

I hate it when he says that.

He told me that when Lucia was coming and when Lochman almost fell out of me. 

"Whatever you do, don't push until we are ready"

Dumbest words ever.

And honestly, at this point I didn't care if he was there or not. I didn't care who the assistant was or if some new doctor came in to deliver this baby. I didn't care if D'Neil delivered my baby or if the baby just fell out and someone caught him.

I just knew I wanted this baby out. Because he was coming out no matter who was there to deliver him and there was nothing I could do about that or anyone else.


D'Neil got the stirrups out and kept reminding me not to push while putting my legs up.
Which left me no choice but to inform him in my most sarcastic laboring voice ever that if someone put pepper up his nose and told him not to sneeze I'd like to see what happens..


But in all honesty, I did try to wait. I tried not to push and I began to think about how I had been laboring this whole time and it had not occurred to me until now that my water had not broken. I began to imagine this baby being born completely encased in his amniotic sac. It is very rare, but does happen and is supposed to be a sign of good luck or something.  
And just as these images of my baby being born in his amniotic sac began to fade from my imagination I yelled at D'Neil that I a contraction was coming and I had to push.

D'Neil got on his baby-delivering-gloves  (that looked like normal blue gloves), and sat down right in front of the baby's crowning head.

And right at that moment my doctor swung open the door and walked in the room wearing his running attire. Yes, his running attire. A nurse opened up a hard shelled case where these oddly superhero-looking-gloves came out of and she put them on him one finger at a time. They were skin tight and as I watched them go on one-finger-at-a-time I began to imagine they had superhero baby birthing powers and the distraction of it all caused my contraction to pause.

I couldn't think of anything witty to say about his yellow-skin-tight-superhero-gloves so instead I told him that I thought it was nice of him to show up.

Just as in my previous two birthing experiences with him he swung the door open just as the baby was crowning and everyone was telling me not to push. So I said something dumb to him about changing his name to Dr. Nick because he always arrived just in the "nick" of time. I told you I get sarcastic (and a little dumb) when I'm in labor.

He laughed, sat down where D'Neil had gotten up from and told me I was now allowed to push whenever I felt the next contraction coming.

I felt it.

I pushed.

And with that one push I felt a massive explosion.

My water broke. It went everywhere. Well, my eyes were shut tight and so I didn't exactly see where it went, but I envisioned someone shaking up a soda can rapidly and then popping it open and I was pretty sure that is what had just occurred. I believe there was amniotic fluid on the ceiling. I squinted my eyes open just enough to see my doctor wiping his cheek.

He laughed and without mentioning the massive explosion he said, "great job, Jenny, the babies head is out! Now I need you to push again to get his shoulders out."


Was he serious? In my previous birthing experiences, I pushed once and when the babies head was out the rest of the baby just slid out...what was he talking about I needed to push again to get the babies shoulders out. He must be crazy.

But sure enough I could see Axel's head resting in the palms of my doctor's superhero yellow gloves.

So I pushed again.  

And again, my doctor said, "Great job Jenny! You got one shoulder out. Now I need you to push again so we can get this babies other shoulder out."
You've got to be kidding! What in the world was happening? Was this baby ever going to come out? I really began to think they were going to have to stuff him back inside and then I was going to be the first person to ever be pregnant forever. He was going to be the groundhog baby who saw his shadow and went back inside for another 6 weeks.

I was almost mad at the baby. But per my doctor's orders, I pushed for a third time. And that is when my doctor guided my hands down under the babies shoulders and let me pull the rest of him out. My doctor let me do this with Lucia also. What an amazing feeling.



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Photo Credit to my Doula Wendy Robertson

And in that split second I was so completely overjoyed. It is a feeling that is completely indescribable. I brought my baby up to my chest and kissed him over and over and over and over.


He was perfect. Axel was perfect. 
 

I looked at this baby covered in blue and red and swollen in the face from being born so quickly and I thought to myself is it really possible to love him so much. And I was overwhelmed knowing this love I felt was just a hint of how much God loves us.
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Photo Credit to Wendy Robertson
I delivered Axel's placenta without much thought or warning because my attention was all on my beautiful baby in my arms. My doctor worked the blood in the umbilical cord toward the baby before directing Paul where to cut it. And while my doctor checked to make sure I didn't need any stitches, I thanked him, made a few more jokes about his name and then spent the next two hours holding Axel and feeding him before anyone took him for his vitals.  Those first few hours of his life with the exception of his first weigh in were mine and Paul's alone.  

When they did his "quick" weigh in before I fed him, it wasn't as quick as I wanted. 

He was 9lbs and 4 oz. They weighed him twice to be sure, then checked the scale and weighed him a third time. He apparently didn't look like a 9 lb baby so everyone was confused...that was until they measured him. He was 22" long.

The baby nurses said they couldn't remember the last time they had a 22" baby born there. Lots of 21" babies and a few that made it close to 21.5" but never a 22" baby that they could remember. 
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Paul asked our babysitter to stay a little longer so he could bring my mom over to meet Axel. Axel was only minutes old when my mom got to see him. Of course I made her wait a few hours to hold him since I wanted him all to myself.


He was finally here.

My “Father of Peace”.

My Axel Andrew.


The kids came the next morning and spent hours with us.
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Axel was fortunate to have a good birth story. But it is so important to remember that all birth stories are amazing. No matter if the baby was planned or a surprise or unwanted, lost or adopted. The miracle of life is amazing. Whether delivered by emergency, surprise or exactly as you wanted, it is all incredibly amazing.
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DIY - Coffered Ceilings

2/1/2016

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It was New Year's Eve and we had plans to re-create our awesome New Years Eve from the previous year when we had attended our neighbors party. They had a few babysitters on hand and we sent our kids upstairs while we mingled with other adults, drank adult beverages and ate yummy adult foods. We called the kids downstairs to write their New Year Resolutions onto Chinese lanterns and send them off into the dark nights sky, (something I've done with our kids the last several years and wanted to continue to do with our new neighborhood). It was a blast.
We sent the kids back upstairs with the babysitters and apparently forgot all about them after someone brought out the Cards Against Humanity game and that's when real fun began. A few neighbors trickled home and but we stayed, along with three other couples and brought in the New Year with hysterical conversations, Champaign and really tired children.
Only this year we had decided as a neighborhood that we would host it at our house.
And wouldn't you know, the strep throat two of  my kids had over Christmas decided to creep back up and got me and one of my other children. We were miserable and there was no way we were going to host everyone in our germ invested home for a party.
We made the necessary and sad phone calls to cancel our New Year's Eve Party this year.
We were stuck at home sick, with sick kids.  
Bored.
And as we sat in the dining room staring at each other we commented on how nice the crown molding looked that we had hung over the summer. Then we both glance over into our home office, adjacent to the dining room and without missing a beat, said, "we should really do something in the dining room".
And so it began.
We started googling "coffered ceilings" and read a few blogs and tried to come up with something appropriate for our office. We drew up about 25 different sketches for how the wood would be able to lay based on where the studs were.  
And I began to think that New Year's Eve wasn't a waste after all, we'd sit here and "plan" our coffered ceilings for the office to be completed in the coming New Year.
But I was wrong. Apparently we were planning the coffered ceilings we were about to start installing that night.
It was 5:30pm and my husband looked at me and said, "do you think Lowes is open right now?" And I looked back at him and was like, "why are you going to Lowe's now?"  But he didn't have to answer. I saw the answer in his gleaming eyes, "to go buy wood for the ceiling, of course".
And just like that he was gone.
When he arrived back home he had 10 5 1/5" wooden boards that were 12' long each and enough skinny molding do go inside the interior of each box we had laid out in our diagrams. 
And you guys, check this out. It came out amazing!
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I'm not going to lie. We did a lot of it that night.
In between some chicken noodle soup and putting kids to bed we were drilling, banging, painting and drawing more diagrams. We had a few hiccups, but it really went smoothly.

The best part is that we were able to do the coffered ceilings for roughly under $300.

Here is what we did right:

1. We spent a lot of time drawing, re-drawing, and drawing again...on paper...and then on the ceiling...the measurements of the ceiling; exactly where the studs were located and how we could best position the wooden boards to be the most symmetrical as possible and be in the studs.

Originally my husband thought we'd place three rows each direction, creating 12 boxes. But due to the size of the room and my desire to have an open box in the center of the room rather then two boards crossing to make an X, we went with only two boards each direction, creating 9 open boxes.
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2. We hung the perimeter of the boards first. 

3. We nailed in the "fixed boards" that ran perpendicular to the studs in because there was only one place they could be placed. The boards we bought only came in 12' sections and of course, the length of the room is 14'. So it was a bit tricky to have to cut and measure the 2 foot difference and line it up and get it straight and then putty it in where it looked even. due to where the studs were we had a larger space in the middle with two identically smaller spaces on the outter rim.
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4. Next it was time for the cross boards. Even though we had our drawings on paper for where to hang these, and we had marked them on the ceiling. I was a little hesitant. So I held each board up and drew a line on either side of the board right where it was to be placed. Then I measured the inside of each opening to be sure each opening would be the exact same measurements. These cross boards could be hung anywhere since the studs ran perpendicular instead of the same direction.

My inside boxes when measured kept turning up different sizes by just an inch or two. I then realized I had counting for the width of the boards 5 1/2" three times then dividing where they needed to go, which was on our original plans instead of two times which we ended us using only 2 cross boards so I only needed to account for 11" extra inches instead of 16 1/2".  Once I corrected my mistake we literally traced them on the ceiling again before we nailed them in.

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5. We had a few boards that when flush against the wall were not even with the adjacent boards. We used a small wood wedge in between the board and the ceiling to align it with the adjacent board. Once the wedge was nailed in, we just bent it to break it off. The interior trim/molding would cover it up later.

6. While the 5 1/2" boards we bought were already white, the interior trim pieces we bought were not. So we painted those first before we nailed them up. Which was nice...until we ran out of wood. We made a quick trip to Lowe's to get the remaining trim pieces and instead of painted a first coat on those and waiting for them to dry, we just went ahead and nailed them up unpainted.

It is really not a big deal either way, but if you have the time putting a coat of white paint on them first is helpful. I would not use ceiling paint. We discovered that the ceiling paint is extra thick and goopy and sticky when applied with a paint brush. Ceiling paint goes on much smoother with a roller at the end to cover everything. So I suggest just a basic white paint on the trim before it is nailed up.  

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7. We measured each interior trim piece as we went.

Measured.
Cut.
Hung.
Repeat.

This was tedious, but went quickly. Each measurement was slightly different and we needed to be sure the angled cuts lined up perfectly each time. We had 9 inside boxes with four cuts for each box. But we got it done quickly.

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Here is what we did wrong:

1. The first thing we did wrong was as we nailed up the boards we began putting wood putty in each nail hole very carelessly with the thought that we would just sand it down later and paint over it.

It was extremely hard to sand down later. As a matter of fact we sanded and painted several times because the wood putty was such a different texture that we couldn't get the textures to match up. It took lots more sanding than anticipated.

By the time we hung the crown molding around the exterior edges, we got smart enough to use a very small amount of wood putty and to wipe as much away as possible while it was still wet. This eliminated much of the sanding and smoothly later on.

2. The second thing we did wrong was we verbally announced to each other that it was almost as if we knew what we were doing because it was going so smoothly.

Never say these words out loud.

Moments later we moved the saw from one side of the room to the other and did not notice that he had moved from it's "0" position. Therefore the next 45 degree cut we made for the crown molding was not what it was supposed to be. However, we did not notice as we were feeling so confident in how well we were doing that we covered it in wood glue and nailed it up. We cut and trimmed out our next piece and went to dry fit it only to discover out corners did not match up.

We had to pull the whole panel off the wall, scrape off all the glue, cut the board short and cut a replacement corner.



Never say outloud that it looks like you know what you're doing!
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3. We tried to paint the ceiling paint on the boards with a paint brush. This was a big mistake. The ceiling paint was heavier than other paints we've used in the past. It was goopy and sticky and painted almost as if you were putting an oil based paint on top of a latex paint. It just didn't work well. We had a short 6" roller that we got out and used on the boards instead of a paint brush and it looked like a million bucks compared to the paint brush. So we learned that we had to use a roller anytime we were applying the ceiling paint.

NYE DIY Coffered Ceilings Was A Success!


All and all we started our New Year off to a good start with new gorgeous coffered ceilings in our home office. After our long New Years Eve weekend we had to go back to work and life and we had to finish the final touches in the evenings. All together it took us about a week to get it all finished to where we were satisfied...

Well satisfied enough. Now I want to repaint the walls that I had just painted before we started this ceiling project! 

Painting the trim work and the ceiling white alone made a huge difference in this room. None of our ceilings are white in this house. They are all the same colors as the original walls were. We painted the dining room ceiling white and now the office and it has lightening up those two rooms tremendously.

The coffered ceiling and the molding, along with the white paint, make our home office look exceptionally nice now.

I'm so pleased with how it turned out. 

I'd love to know what you think!  

Here is a final look, lounging in the settee looking out of the office towards the front door and dining room.

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Butternut Squash and Broccoli Quinoa with Hummus

1/19/2016

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So, this might be the most delicious thing ever!

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If you know me then you know I'm not very good at following recipes. I typically look at what I have in my fridge and Google those ingredients only to read a few recipes and combine the best ideas of each and then substitute the extra stuff based on what I have available in my cupboard...and wallah!

Sometimes...ok I'll brag...a lot of times, I get a winner like this dish that is so incredibly delicious I wish someone would write down what I just did and turn it into a real recipe so that I myself could look it up later and make it the same way again!
but so often I don't write any of it down and when I go back and try to make it again it's never as good because I can't remember what I did. So I'm making a vow to you and myself that I will write down some super yummy ideas that turn into delicious feasts and make it a real recipe.
So here it goes. And please ask any questions in the comment section if something doesn't make sense. I'm not a real recipe writer.

what you need:

- 2 tablespoons of coconut oil
- 1 cup of uncooked Quinoa
- 2 cups of water
- 3 chick on bullion cubes
- 1/2 cup of plain hummus
- a handful or two of baby spinach or spring mix
-1 cup of shredded cheese
- 1 medium sized butternut squash cubed
- 1 1/2 cups of broccoli
- 1/2 cup of milk
- 1/2 cup of Parmesan cheese

what to do:

1. Preheat oven to 375 degrees
2. Grease a 2 qt oven safe baking dish with 1 tablespoon of coconut oil.
3. Pour the cup of uncooked quinoa in the dish.
4. Bring two cups of water with 3 cubes of chicken bullion to a boil. (You can do this on the stove top or in a microwave safe bowl/measuring cup)
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5. Add one cup of hummus to the boiling water and bullions and stir together until hummus has thinned out completely.
6. Pour hummus mixture into baking dish onto the quinoa.
7. Lay spinach leaves or spring mix on top of quinoa.
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8. Sprinkle 1/2 cup of the shredded cheese on top and bake uncovered for 20 minutes.
9. While quinoa is baking place broccoli into boiling water on the stovetop for 10 minutes.
10. While broccoli is boiling, sauté the cubed squash (unpeeled) on the stovetop in remaining tablespoon of coconut oil. Sprinkle with salt, pepper and garlic salt.
10. Drain broccoli, add remaining 1/2 cup of shredded cheese to broccoli and 1/2 cup of milk and stir together until broccoli becomes shredded.
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11. After 20 minutes, remove the quinoa from the oven and add the broccoli and the cubed sautéed butternut squash.
12. Sprinkle the 1/2 cup of Parmesan cheese on top and cook uncovered for an additional 15 minutes.
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13. Remove from oven and let cool for 10 minutes. Serve while it's still warm, enjoy and share it with a friend!
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14. Write a comment and let me know what you think!
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Coffee Table Remodel

1/12/2016

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You guys I bought this coffee table from a yard sale website and as almost all the furniture I get from these types of places, it stunk! And it stunk bad. Maybe not as bad as the gun cabinet remodel, but still bad. Which means I have to hide it from my husband. He just doesn't have the same vision for "things"  (okay, we can call it "junk") that I have.

Trust me, he has some great visions for other things, like our coffered ceilings we put up in the office, our mudroom bench we built in the garage, the crown molding he put up in the dining room and the window bench he built in the kitchen! 

But when it comes to old furniture, it's usually just trash to him. And if I hear "why in the world did you bring that into my house" one more time, I'll quit refinishing furniture all together. So for your sake and mine, I have to hide it...until he see's how great it turned out and then he drools over it with me and tells me what a good job I did!

So, like any good wife hiding something from her husband, I "ran errands", came home and backed my car into the driveway, pulled the dirty smelly coffee table out of my trunk and carried it around to the back of the house and set it by the back door. I quickly found a tarp and covered it. I figured sitting outside in the fresh air would probably do this piece of wood some good anyway. It seriously needed to air out.

So the first thing was breaking it down to get it cleaned up so I could begin turning it into what I envisioned! I knew I wanted to re-stain both surfaces in a light wood color and I wanted to paint the outer edges and the legs. I wasn't sure what color yet.  

So I got out the vinegar, lysol and bug sprays and went to work sanitizing this sucker!

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Unfortunately I did not get a photo of it before I unscrewed it all. But you can see it was just your average dark cherry wood coffee table. Nothing special really and the fact that I paid the lady any money at all for it should tell you I paid too much. In my opinion these dark cherry pieces are a dime a dozen and are quite unattractive. But trust me, I'm not saying all dark cherry is terrible. I have many dark cherry wood pieces in my house I love deeply. But I also have some I can't wait to get my sander on!
I sanded it down the best I thought I could do. I cleaned it up, prepped it for staining and begun applying a pecan finish stain. I love this mimiwax product! I've been using it on all my Growth Chart Rulers as well!

It was only after I began to apply the stain that I realized what I thought were imperfections in the wood veneer were actually old cherry finish marks that did not come off with my original sanding and stripping.
I  was not happy with the way this was turning out and went back to sanding and stripping for a second time!
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As I mentioned above, I knew I wanted to paint the edges and the legs, but I wanted to sand them as well. It is so important to me to start with what was originally there. I do not like the idea of covering up the ugly. I love getting rid of the ugly completely and starting fresh!

And so I began sanding and stripping for a second time until I was finally happy!
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I restrained the top surfaces for a second time. Then I taped around the interior edges where I was going to paint. I really had not decided on a color yet but as I was browsing through Lowes I stumbled upon their "sale" section of paint. There was the perfect gallon for sale for $9 and the color was a cottage white!

And since I love bargains, I bought it! I starred at it for a few days before I decided to shake it up, pop the top off, and start painted!

Do you want to know how to paint furniture?


It's simple really. It is just like putting on a nice smooth coat of nail polish! Seriously.

You really don't want more than two or three thin coats or else it'll look pasty and thick and might even start to peel or clump up.

Each coat should go on very thinly. The first cost should not look finished at all and should still show lots of imperfections.

But by the time you put that second coat on it should smooth out the imperfections of the first coat and should look perfect! There is the occasional time where a third coat is needed.

It is important to let each coat dry completely before putting on the next coat!


So basically if you can't paint your nails without it looking like a hot mess than you will likely not be able to paint furniture either.
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I'm sure you can guess what happened. I pulled the painting tape off of the top only to find that some of the paint had leaked through. I was certain this was going to happen and was prepared with a razor blade in hand. I gently use the razor blade to scrape off any leaked paint. I razor-ed all I could until the paint formed a straight line around the perimeter of both surfaces.
Painting was complete! Wood staining was complete! Now it was time to apply a polyurethane to protect my new project from any scratches or marks!

Polyurethane should be applied in the same way as painting! Two or three thin coats!

However rather than using a paint brush to apply the poly, I use a foam sponge brush. It' leaves way less streaks and goes on super smooth!

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Don't forget to clean any brush or sponge that you use a polyurethane on outside or in a bucket (not the sink!) with a paint thinner product! Otherwise your brush/sponge will harden and get ruined (not that I have any first hand knowledge of this!
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DIARRHEA, ALGEA, REFLUX AND BLUEBERRIES 

1/12/2016

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*This post was originally written July 24, 2011
It was copied over from an old blog I had written.
We had a great typical enjoyable Saturday...until we got home...diarrhea, algae, reflux and blueberries...oh what a night.

The day started normal. My husband got up at 5:30 to meet a guy for a 60 mile bike ride. All the while, I was awake with babies and watched the sun come up, as I do most mornings now. The coffee pot can't make the coffee fast enough and I usually chug down the first cup burning hot and then sip the remaining cups as I cuddle my children. At 7:00 my 2 year old woke and at 8:00 the twins. All four of us; me, her and the twins, cuddled on the couch, which means everyone is sitting on me, and we watched as many Dora episodes as humanly possible before one gags, or until my 2 year old turns into Dora herself (is that possible?)
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Then an hour later it was time to put the two bambino's down for their nap. At which point, I got dressed to go to the YMCA, got my toddler ready and packed everyone's diaper bags. My husband got home and we waited for the babies to wake up so we could leave. I had asked my husband if he would go to the Y with me and show me the workouts he used to do with a friend of his when we lived in Nashville. Both of them got in great shape following a simple regime and well, since I recently gave birth to twins, I will do just about anything to try to get in shape myself right now even if I have to ask my husband for help. If you know me I hate asking anyone for help, especially my husband! I feel like it has been years since I've really been able to work out. I got pregnant in 2006 and miscarried, I stopped working out after that since I felt I brought the miscarriage on from running 50 miles a week. I got pregnant again in 2008 and gave birth in 2009, breastfed for 9 months and while I started running again then, it became increasingly hard to find the time. I was working full time and so when I wasn't working I didn't want to stick my child in daycare so I could work out because I had that mommy guilt of not being with her enough. I mostly ran with her in the jogger. And right when I felt I was getting back in shape...I ended up pregnant again and so the cycle continues...
I never ask my husband to teach or show me anything, so this shocked him. He is my husband, not my coach, not my instructor, not my teacher and not my mentor. When he tries to "show" me something we end up in a fight. We actually call our canoe the "divorce boat" because we are stuck in it together and I always do it my way, which is the wrong way according to him and then we end up in a fight. The best thing we can do for our marriage is tip the thing over and swim. But that's a lesson for another time. You can read more about our marriage arguments here.

Yes, he was shocked, but agreed to "show" me his workout. He reminded me that the only time I've listened to him was when I was giving birth to our first child naturally and the pain was getting out of control and I was about to lose it. He grabbed my face and said, "get it together, now". Suddenly that was all it took for me to calm down and in fact, I did get it together. He said that might just be the only time I didn't try to argue with him and tell him I was right and he was wrong, so he'd be happy to show me his workout, but added that he wasn't sure why because he knew I wouldn't listen to him anyway.
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The babies woke up and off to the YMCA we went. I can't believe we were able to work out a full 45 minutes without the nursery workers coming to get one of us. Every time I leave the babies in the nursery at the Y, which has been most week days for the past 3 weeks, they have to come and get me because someone is crying and they can't get them to stop. It really puts a damper on working out. I may or may not have hidden from the nursery workers before when I see them walking into the fitness room looking around. I may or may not have bent down to tie my shoe behind a large piece of exercise equipment. It may look like I am tying my shoe, but I am just trying to duck as she walks by looking for me. The other mothers in the fitness room can rest assured she's not coming for them because they always come for me. And I am happy to report that when they can't find me, they usually resolve the issue on their own. I've gone to pick up my kids and they mentioned to me that one of them was crying, but when they couldn't find me they rocked him or her and eventually all was okay.
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So it amazed me that this trip was a success. No babies cried, I learned a new work out routine and everyone was hungry so we headed to chick fil a, so we could eat and our 2 year old daughter could play. Then we were ready to go home and take a nap. That too was a success. As everyone napped, including my husband. I on the other hand used nap time to prepared our grocery list and organized our coupon book. Everyone woke up and off we headed, all 5 of us to the grocery store. Our trip to the store is a story for another time too because that in itself is full of lots of rights and wrongs. A trip with a two year old, four month old twins and a husband and wife juggling food and babies is a sight to see.

We took 15 minutes after the grocery store to go to the bookstore to let my little girl play with the trains as this is one of her favorite things to do and off we went to head home. It was now 7pm and time for everyone to eat quick, get a bath and go to bed.

Oh, if only that went as smoothly as the rest of the day. Here is where the Diarrhea, Algae, Reflux and Blueberries all begin! 
We came home and before we could even walk into the house we could smell the stench of diarrhea! Where was it? Where did it come from? It covered the whole house. We knew it was there but hadn't found it, until we walked into my daughters room and covered on her beautiful floral pink rug was a very large pile of doggy diarrhea.

​It didn't stop there, it trailed off her beautiful floral pink run onto the carpet. It appeared we had a sick dog and a big mess to clean up. I put the babies down and went to unload groceries, which my husband had already beat me to it. So I decided I'd feed the babies and then clean the poop. They didn't want to eat and I couldn't stand the smell. I got the gloves and started to clean. I dragged the rug outside and sprayed down her carpet, scrubbed and vacuumed.  The mister had put all the groceries away and started to cook dinner, babies seemed happy enough and everything seemed fine so I headed outside to clean the rug. I got the hose and scrubbed it with cleaner and used the hose as a pressure washer.
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As I was outside I noticed my daughters kiddie pool was filled with green water because it had been sitting out there for days unused and algae was growing covering the entire bottom of the plastic blow up pool. So I thought, while I have the hose out I'll clean this out too. I started picking up the toys in the yard, dumped the water out and came inside for the bleach. I noticed my husband was still cooking dinner and now he was holding one of the twins while he did it. My two year old looked happy as she ate some turkey and cheese and fruit and the other twin seemed content, so I headed back outside with the bleach for the kiddie pool and said, "I'll be just another minute." I sprayed the pool out, poured the bleach in and realized I needed a sponge. I had already finished cleaning the rug and it was hanging to dry. I came in for the sponge and noticed that the mister was still cooking dinner, but this time he was carrying two babies who didn't look so happy and my toddler was sitting at the table complaining about her food. I was just about to say, "I'll be just another minute", when I got that look from my husband that said, "if you go back out that door, I will..." not sure what came after that but the look was bad so what followed would've been bad too.
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I decided not to finish what I was doing. I took one baby, offered to take both, but he just gave me one. Went outside to turn the hose off, and came back in. Dinner was on the table. Oops. I don't think anyone was happy. All my husband said was "I'm not you and you're are not me". I took this to mean that he can't cook a meal while watching three babies and I can't clean dog poop as well as him without getting distracted. I was really hoping he didn't now I was doing 10 other things outside, but guess he did. So we sat and ate dinner.
And this is where the blueberry comes in. As we sat and ate dinner, my 2 year old swallowed a blueberry whole. And yes, it got stuck. We panicked, I almost dropped a baby as I stood up to figure out what to do. And in just a few moments it felt like an eternity had passed. She stuck her own hands down her throat and coughed up a whole blueberry.

​The poop, the algae, the roll-reversal, the crying babies, the gym, the bookstore, nothing, nothing mattered at that moment. We were all scared.
At this time my stress level had risen. No one would know it, not even me because when I am stressed I appear extra calm. I went to feed the babies to put them to bed and forgot to give my son his reflux medicine until after I fed him. This doesn't happen much, but when it does it's a bad beginning to the night. He can't settle, he cries more and longer and can't get comfortable. Not only were we up all night with sad babies, hungry babies, but also with a dog who was constantly pacing and whimpering to go outside. If we had a fenced yard he would've stayed outside, but each time we had to get up and take him out, get up and feed a baby, get up and rock a baby.


​But you know what, I'd do it all again. I was just happy by little girl didn't choke on a blueberry.
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ChickPea Salad with Avocado and Almonds

1/12/2016

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I made a delicious feast for Thanksgiving full of fatty foods and sugars and it was great! That was over two months ago now. And just a few weeks after when December rolled around something happened...

I decided to stop eating sugar. Not just artificial sweaters or food with added sugars, I decided to stop eating all sugar in all forms. This meant no fruit. This meant no honey.

I'm sure you are thinking I am crazy and you're trying to figure out what in the world is left to eat if I took all sugar out of my diet! And you might be wondering why in the world anyone would do this.
It all started with a conversation I had with my husband about one of our nieces who has been suffering from low energy levels on top of other ailments.

As we talked about her ailments I was quickly reminded of a time when I was in high school where I too had similar complications. It was 1996 and I was running cross country for Coral Gables High School. I was coming home after practice everyday craving bread and feeling too tired and weak to study. I was so lethargic and I just wanted to crawl into bed and sleep the rest of my life away.


My mom being the hippy she was (and still is) rarely gives in to modern medicine, so she took me to a homeopathic doctor, like every good hippy from the 60's would do. The doctor quickly diagnosed me a Candidand Dissorder.

 

Candida: How To Reclaim Your Body and Mind (Digestive Disorders: Leaky Gut Syndrome, Candida and Diverticulitis Book 2)

Basically I've been living on caffeine and sugar and feeling the lack of greens in my diet. And knowing myself if I don't do something drastic, I won't do anything at all. Normally I do a juice cleanse to get rid of my icky-lack-of-greens-feeling. But this time I called my mom and asked if she still had the Candida book we bought 20 years ago and if she'd bring it at Thanksgiving when she came to visit!

And well, yep, she had it. Remember, this is my mother who loves family heirlooms if you read my 
bio, and well she loves books too and when she gets a good one she holds on to it! So she brought it with her.


If you are interested in learning more about Candida there are lots of new books and recipe books available. I doubt this book from 20 years ago is even in print still. Just click here for Updated Books.  

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So starting the beginning of December, I stripped out all sugars and white grains and breads and began eating vegetables and meats. Would you believe me when I tell you I've been drinking my coffee BLACK! And I love it!

I put creamer in it a few days ago for the heck of it and felt like I was being poisoned by all the preservatives! Crazy how quickly our body adapts to new normals.


I did eat a banana today and I have added some sugars back into my diet, and put honey in my tea from my dads homemade honey from Key Bee Honey. If you love honey it doesn't get any better than straight from island paradise. You can place an order for yourself right off his facebook page.
 
I've added a little fruit into my diet too. But mostly I've been snacking on nuts and bell peppers dipped in hummus. Our family has been eating lots of delicious meals lately like spaghetti squash and Edamame Pasta!.


And so here is a Chickpea Salad Recipe I made last night I wanted to share with you! It was delicious! And I hope you try it and love it too!


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Chickpea Salad With Avocado And Almonds

what you will need :


- 2 cans of chickpeas rinsed and drained
- 1/2 of a small red onion finely chopped
- 1/2 red bell pepper finely chopped
- 1/2 green bell pepper finely chopped
- 2 celery stalks with leafy tops chopped
- 1 tomato finely chopped and seeds rinsed out
- 1 avocado sliced into squares
- 1/2 cup of Almonds (chopped, sliced or whole)
- 1 teaspoon of crushed red pepper flakes
- 1 teaspoon of garlic salt
- 2 tablespoons of red wine vinegar
- 3 tablespoons of extra virgin olive oil (I used Lemon Olive Oil we got for Christmas)
- salt and pepper to taste

directions:


1. Combine chickpeas, onion, peppers, tomatoes and celery into a large bowl.
2. Pour red wine vinegar and olive oil into the bowl, adding crushed red pepper flakes, garlic salt and salt and pepper and stir all together.
3. If you made more than you will eat store remaining salad in an airtight container and put in fridge.
4. Add avocado and almonds only to the portion you will be eating as you want these two ingredients to remain fresh.
5. Enjoy, smile, and share! 😉


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A Christmas Carol Poem

12/21/2015

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It was 1990. I was 11 years old and in the 5th grade.

My school had a Poetry Parade Competition.

I submitted a poem and was one of the 8 winners of the contest.

My poem was read by Tiny Tim during the production of The Christmas Carol.

I share this poem with you today, because, it is what my family is trying to live out this Christmas and I hope for many more Christmas' to come.  May it inspire you during this season of giving.

May God Bless You and do something nice for someone today and every day.



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A CHRISTMAS CAROL POEM

I was walking down the snowy street;
When I saw someone I'd like to meet.
She was dressed in ragged clothes;
She sat on a bench in a worried pose.
She turned her face and started to cry;
I asked her what was wrong and why.
She said, "I don't have any friends on this Christmas Day";
So she walked with me the rest of the way.


Written by: Jenny Erbel 1990

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MERRY CHRISTMAS AND PLEASE SHARE
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CHRISTMAS FREAK OUT! IT'S THE MOST WONDERFUL TIME OF THE YEAR!

12/11/2015

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Each morning I hear these dreaded words...GUESS WHAT MOM!!!!! IT'S ONLY 11 DAYS UNTIL CHRISTMAS!!! (Or insert 14, 10, 5, 1, etc..)
But don't underestimate my kids. This "countdown" did not start just recently. Oh no, it started before Thanksgiving! "Mom is it Thanksgiving yet?" I got asked regularly.

I would tell the kids how many days away Thanksgiving was and then one sunny afternoon it dawned on me that they were really into Thanksgiving.

So I asked why they loved Thanksgiving so much.

I expected them to say of course that they loved my cooking and loved having their grandmother visiting and that they were anticipating a nice meal around the table sharing all the things we were thankful for!

Because this is why everyone loves Thanksgiving, right?

WRONG!

Silly me! My kids told me they couldn't wait for Thanksgiving because it meant that Christmas was next! And don't you know. The very next day after Thanksgiving my kids woke up and said, "IS TODAY CHRISTMAS???"

NO! Today is not Christmas! Christmas was still 30 days away! Wait, 30 days away? Oh no, I haden't even started Christmas shopping or our Christmas letter, or did I even have a photo I could use of the kids on a Christmas card? I hadn't even started on our Christmas yearbook yet that I do every year. And what about the Angel Tree, or Christmas cookies, Christmas dinner menu? Shopping? When will I do it all? But after a deep breath, 30 days seemed like a reasonable amount of time to try to get these things done...

And then fastforward to today! There are 11 days until Christmas, so my child announced when she woke up this morning! 11 DAYS people! ELEVEN DAYS PEOPLE!!!
Christmas cards are not written, pictures have not been taken, photo cards have not been ordered, yearbook has not even been started, Christmas shopping for family members has not occurred. I don't even have necessary ingredients in my house to start baking Christmas cookies. And we haven't even seen Santa yet! But thank you for reminding me that I have 11 more days to get this done.

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You know what I've been busy doing instead? Probably the same things you are doing: my normal every day job. I've been cooking and cleaning and folding laundry. I've been homeschooling 3 days a week and organizing outgrown clothes and closets. I've been paying bills and combing through our finances to find enough money to even have Christmas this year.
Honestly, It would be a really bad day if I thought I had only 11 days to get this stuff done. If I made this all about me and how much I can accomplish in the month of December it would be a really bad month.

Every day my children wake up to what often times feels like a reminder of how many days "left" I  have to get the most magical time of the year ready for them. But that's not it.  Not it at all.


Seriously, when I take myself out of it all and all the static and stuff that comes along with the holiday is removed, this is such a magical time of year with or without any of the extra stuff we do! We have 11 days left until Christmas and outside of decorating and buying a few gifts we've not done much else... 

But...

I love watching my kids put gifts in each others stockings each morning and not taking credit for it! They find things around the house, little toys or drawings they made and hide it in each others stockings when the other ones aren't looking. It's awesome!

They tell each other that Santa did it! I love their imaginations, their play, their excitement for this time of year.  

Even though I can do without the 5:00am wake up calls, I love that each morning at 5am (sometimes 6) the kids wake each other up and go running through the house to see what the crazy thing Elf Robert has done or where he is newly hiding from the day before. 

And I could also do without my husband waking me up at midnight to tell me I went to bed forgetting to move the Elf for the kids excitement and enjoyment each new day. And sometimes Elf Robert doesn't move until the morning after the kids have waken up or after they've gone to school.

But you know what? They don't care. It is still so incredibly magical for them and exciting. They make Elf Robert gifts to give to Santa and they leave him plates of food and cookies. Watching them give to each other and Silly Elf Robert are wonderful things about this month.  



Then it is answering all the questions that go along with the Christmas story that I love getting to sit down and talk with my kids.

Why was Jesus born in a stable? (or per Olivia, a staple?)
What is a stable?
What is the Nativity?
Is Jesus still a baby?
Does Jesus celebrate Christmas in Heaven?
Is Santa Clause like Jesus?
My friend doesn't believe in Santa, but I still do, is it okay to always believe?
Where is Jesus mommy now?
 

I love watching them color Christmas cards for children they've never met. I love hearing them gather their toys they want to give to other people who don't have as much. Or in the store offering to buy things for their friends or for children they've never met. And I love the gifts they wrap up and give me and each other then say it is from Santa!

I love their excitement and interest in another family we've offered to help in this season.

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As I look at this month of December and see all the long lists a parent has to do to make this time "the most magical time of year" for their family, or all the money that ends up getting spent on new and sometimes ridiculous toys, and the anxiety of not doing as much as your neighbors or friends do. It is a ridiculous amount of pressure.

But do me a favor and put that pressure aside with me. Because really who cares if Christmas cards don't get mailed out before Christmas, or even at all. Who cares if the cookies get made or not or if the elf gets moved. Really, who cares other than the pressure we put on ourselves?

As I look at this month of December what I really want to see is the month of December through the hearts of my children. Through their hearts of Gold. The giving spirits that is within their little souls is priceless. Their souls is what brings out the magic during this season. Not all the other stuff; but them. Of course we are celebrating the birth of Jesus and that is not to be forgotten, but they are experiencing it.  Watching Christmas happen through their little eyes is spectacular. 

Rather than being anxious about having only 11 days left to get my Christmas shopping done or my Christmas cards in the mail or our Christmas cookies made.

I should instead be sad that I have 11 days left to watch my children so excited about Every. Little. Thing. There are only 11 days left to watch them wide-eyed over Santa. There are only 11 days left to see them hide gifts for each other around the house. There are only 11 days left for me to watch the magic in their eyes as they bring me one Christmas drawing after another. There are only 11 days left when they ask endless questions about our Savior's birth and the significance it has on their every day.


It really is the most magical time of year, but not because of anything "magical" that I do or in this years case, don't do. It is magical whether we get cookies made or cards sent out. The magic lies in watching my children give and grow in their servants hearts and see them so enthralled with the birth of Jesus. This is where the magic is.


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TO SPANK OR NOT TO SPANK!

12/10/2015

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* This post was written May 14, 2011*
To spank or not to spank, that is the question. Well, not really a question for me. I always assumed I would spank. I got spanked as kid, my husband, bless his soul got beat. We will not be beating our children, but spanking when deserved is a fair punishment, of course, with a conversation to follow as to why you got spanked.
Because right now the twins are newborns and my 2 year old is really just a good child.  Time out  has been enough of a punishment to get her to obey. It seemed to be working just fine...until recently when she told me she knew she wasn't supposed to do something and wanted me to put her in time out. 

And when your kid is asking to go into time out maybe it is time for a new punishment!


But really, I had not given it much thought. I still put her in time out even though she sat there with a smile on her face and when I told her she could get off the chair or that she could stop starring at the wall, she would decide she wanted to stay in time out longer.

How could I complain with that tactic? She really could stay there as long as she wanted because it gave this momma a little longer of a break!  

The thing is I've lately been trying to make an extra effort to spend time with my 2 year old. I want to play hands on with her while the babies are sleeping or keeping each other entertained.

Since the babies have been born she spends a lot of time sitting on the couch with me watching me feed babies, burp babies, change babies diapers and rock babies. She behaves well and usually nurses her babies next to me, keeps herself entertained with toys or my phone or she ends up helping me with the babies, like fetching a burp cloth, holding a bottle up or something that is about them and not her. 

So in my extra efforts to try and do activities with her, focused around her, that are hands on, I thought it would be fun to make Easter cards for the grandparents.

We got out the paint and the paper and went to town. She giggled and laughed and it was great...it was great until she was done.

When a child is done, specifically a two year old it is easy to tell. Her concentration was completely lost from painting on the paper and had moved to painting her hands and her face. This is my grand old sign that she was now finished with our intentional hands on activity.  She was now done and bored with my project.

 So I let her get down while I finished cutting out some bunnies from her paintings.

I was very focused on what I was doing and understand, I had an agenda! I was trying to get this hands-on-intentional-project finished up before the babies woke up from their nap. Because once they were awake they would once again take all my attention and leave my two year old to entertain herself. 

Each time I looked up from the task that I was doing she was pulling on the blinds to the window and shaking. She was thrilled with the loud noise they made each time the wood blind hit the windows. She was listening and fascinated. 

But I was annoyed and immediately asked her to stop rattling the blinds. Didn't she know? She was going to wake up the babies with that noise and then this special time I had set aside to spend with her hands on was going to end sooner than we both wanted!  


As she looked at me with those two year old eyes that said "yeah, what are you going to do if I rattle these blinds again? Put me in time out? hahahahaha", and with that look, she did it again.
And very calmly I tried to explain to her that I was going to finish cutting out the bunnies she painted for her grandparents and how this was our special time together and begged her ever so calmly to reason with me and not rattle the blinds again.
And I got the same look again. "whatcha gonna do about it" and again it happened, the blinds got rattled. 
But they weren't the only thing that got rattled. Without even thinking I jumped up, grabbed her arm away from the blinds and smacked her right on the butt.
And I looked at her with those mommy eyes that say, "yeah take that!"  
Oh no! Her poor little face looked right at me and got all crinkled up and tears started to come streaming down her face but no noises came out of her and it was TERRIBLE! Then... it came, that long soft little cry came oozing out straight from her little passionate and soft heart. OHHHH it was terrible. I had never ever smacked her on the bottom before. She didn't even see if coming.
She didn't even see it coming and honestly, neither did I! It is the first time I spanked my child and I did it as a total reaction without giving it any thought. OHHHH the guilt poured right over me.

I scooped her little shocked body up into my arms and sat her down in my lap on the rocking chair. She faced me and I looked at her dead in the eyes and said,

"I am so sorry I smacked your bottom without warning you, but you were not listening to me and I got angry. I should've warned you first that I was going to spank you and for that I am sorry. However, it does not get you off the hook, you owe me an apology as well for not listening to me after I gave you several warnings."

I hugged her sobbing little body until she calmed down enough to say "I sorry momma".

And while I really had not given a lot of thought to spanking or not I guess I am now a "spanker". I'm that mom who is going to spank. I've opened the door after a year of motherhood to a world of spanking. I hadn't planned it or given it a lot of thought.

But we are entering the terrible two's and the jealousy of twins is certainly a distraction from her good behavior I will have to be aware of. 

I will have to learn my rookie mistakes of spanking out of emotion and reaction rather than being in control of myself and my child. It won't belong before I have two two year olds and a three year old.

Going forward time-outs will of course be our go-to punishment, but I am relieved in some strange way to have a new form of discipline that can be used when needed. 

SPANK!

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Love Picks Up Where the Money Ends

12/10/2015

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(** I wrote this original Blog post on another blog I had back in June of 2011. I'm reposting it here and updating the number of kids we have as it is still applicable! Please bare with me as I transfer several old blogs over)
On occasion when we lay down for bed after a long tiring day, as exhausted as we are, we engage in a little pillow talk. Our pillow talk always involves some level of teasing each other about one thing or another.  It was like that 11 years ago when we first married and you guessed it, t's still like that.  
And all I did was ask for a goodnight kiss...and the teasing started.

I was told I must be guilty of something due to the tone in my voice and my request for a kiss was denied with the notion that there would be "no guilt kissing" going on that evening.

I knew what my husband was talking about. That feeling you have when you've done something you shouldn't have and you seek for affection from your spouse in hopes that they will overlook what you've done! Yep, I know that feeling.

But in this case, I really couldn't think of anything I was guilty of. So I made him expand.
Well, he couldn't think of anything I was guilty of either . But of course he had to come up with something and he had to think quick!

His response was that I was guilty of being "too expensive".
Well, there you go. I had to agree on this one. He is right. I am too expensive. So I let him know that I was 100% guilty of that and so he should probably just fire me and let me go.
And well, after thinking about it for a few minutes he decided I would cost him more money and I'd be more expensive if he let me know.

Of course he was just kidding! But he has a valid point.
It is not just me anymore. I come along with 4 kids. And I cost a lot when it's me and four little kids!

I was much less expensive when we both worked and both brought home a salary and we had not kids to spend our money on. It was just us and we had TWO incomes!
Those honestly were some good years!
And I cannot lie. I am so grateful we have those years to fall back on when the going gets tough. Because let me tell you, it is hard sometimes. Well, I'm sure you know it. If you have a family and are down to one income and have added dependents. The way you were once used to living is gone and no more. It is hard to be responsible for little mouths to feed and bodies to clothe. College funds to save for, sports, extracurricular activities', and oh goodness, if you take them to a the theater to watch a play it'll cost you!  Or just going to the movies! Not to mention school costs, a house big enough to fit these little people, a car big enough and all those dang car seats! ...and really, it is endless.

Even if you are a two income family, just adding the stress of these other little people to the outcome of that income is no joke.

I'm certain you are also guilty of being "too expensive"! All of you! Just like me!
It may be a long, long, long time from now before we can spend any money on oureslves again.  And maybe that day may never come. So I thank God that we have that time to fall back on when things get stressful. We have those fun memories of going out to eat without a care in the world. Heading to the mall to buy a pair of shoes not because we needed them but because we wanted them. We had money to buy nice furniture for our swanky Nashville condo and a new grill! I'm telling you those were good years.   

Some nights we lay in bed and have our little pillow talk and it's just us reminiscing about how we used to be before we had kids. Those were good days.

But our kids are awesome and we would never trade our kids to go back there.
 
It's just a good thing we have enough love in our house every day to pick up where the money ends.

And I'll tell you something. That love is so much richer than any of the money we ever had or ever will have.


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ALL BEFORE NOON!

12/5/2015

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This little gem of a facebook post popped up in my Timehop today from two years ago. Axel was 10 months old, the twins were 2 and Lucia was 4. And all the words I spoke and posted  came out of my mouth before noon that day, November 5, 2013, and probably many days since then!





You need to share! Don't touch him! Don't touch her! Say you're sorry! Go sit down! Turn off the TV! Keep your hands to yourself! Get out of the road! Look for cars! Hold my hand! That's hot! That's sharp! Don't touch that! That's not yours! Go to your room! Don't get out of your bed again! Come here! Get off him! Stop that! Share that! Give that to me! Who broke that! Get out of there! Put your clothes back on! Eat it! Don't eat that! Stop that! Who did that! Don't shut doors! Keep that door shut! Get out of the garbage! Get out of my closet! Get out of my drawers! Don't sit next to him! Move over! Stop screaming! Don't yell at me! Be nice! Give her a hug! Don't do that again! Get up! Get down! Close the fridge! Who poured that on the floor! Close the cabinet! That's not yours! Put that back! Pick that up! Pick up your shoes! Put that away! Give that back! Come here! I love you...each and every one of you!
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Happy Thanksgiving (Toddler STYLE)

11/26/2015

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Making food memories and "thankful" memories, because let's face it, sometimes other memories with children on Thanksgiving are just not worth keeping.

(These are real conversations from today from our real and crazy family. The children's names in this post have been purposefully left out to protect them from being harassed by those of you who might know them.)
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2:00am
Mom, I don't feel... (insert vomit and more vomit...)
Okay, try to keep your aim into my hands until we get to the toilet.
HAPPY THANKSGIVING


4:30am
repeat of 2:00am
HAPPY THANKSGIVING

8:30am
Stop talking! You are waking me up! (insert crying and tears from a healthy child)
Baby, it's okay to get up and come down stairs now. Everyone else is awake.
HAPPY THANKSGIVING 

8:45am
He's sitting in my chair!! I want my chair!! That's not fair!
You sat there yesterday, it is his turn today.
HAPPY THANKSGIVING


9:00am
I don't want yucky toast and grapes for breakfast! It's gross. I told you I just want chocolate.
You need to eat what I give you or else you won't eat anything the rest of the day.
HAPPY THANKSGIVING

9:45am
I don't want apple juice! I want milk!
Sweetheart, you just asked me to get you apple juice so that's why I gave it to you. Please don't yell at me.
HAPPY THANKSGIVING!

10:00am
I don't like this parade. It's too long. When is it going to be over? I want to watch cartoons.
It's the Macy's Thanksgiving Parade. Just watch it. The Ninja Turtle float is about to come on and look at all the ballerina's dancing! .
HAPPY THANKSGIVING 


10:30am
Eww! Mom!! I just saw him put his buggers on the couch!
OK, give him this wet towel and tell him to clean them off right now.
HAPPY THANKSGIVING

11:00am
What's that yucky smell? Yuck. Everyone hold your nose. It stinks in here.
That's Thanksgiving Dinner is cooking.
HAPPY THANKSGIVING

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11:45
Mom! I got poop on my hands!
OK, don't move, and don't touch anything! I'll be right there.
HAPPY THANKSGIVING 

12:00pm
I don't want to play outside. Can't we just come inside to play?
No, you all need to stay outside until dinner is ready. It's so pretty out.  It's going to snow soon and you'll be stuck inside for months.
HAPPY THANKSGIVING

 
12:30pm
Grandma Helen, I mean Tori, can I be all done eating?
That is your Nonna. Her name is Nonna. And she is not in charge of how much you eat. You have to finish eating your lunch and then I will dismiss you from the table.
HAPPY THANKSGIVING 

1:30pm
I'm STARVING!!
You just ate lunch an hour ago and you had a snack 10 minutes ago. You are not hungry. Go outside and play.
HAPPY THANKSGIVING

1:00pm
Mommy, I want you to hold me.
I can't hold you while I'm cooking baby, just sit here on the counter and don't touch the knives.
HAPPY THANKSGIVING


2:00pm
I don't want to wear this! It has buttons. I want to wear my Halloween costume.
I want you to look nice for Thanksgiving dinner. Please put on what I want you to wear just for today.
HAPPY THANKSGIVING

2:30pm
He broke my tower and hurt my feelings!
Come here. Show me where your feelings are so I can kiss them and make it better.
HAPPY THANKSGIVING

3:00PM
He hurt my feelings again!
Work it out and go outside and play!!! We are eating in one hour and I don't want to see you until then. You need to play with each other nicely.
HAPPY THANKSGIVING


4:30
I told you not to give me chicken! yuck!
It's ham. You like ham. And your daddy is getting you ranch dressing to dip it in.

Why is this macaroni white? I want the orange kind.                                                                   It's just made with special cheeses and you'll like it if you just try it.       

Mommy, I like this, I just want the pretzels out of the jello and separated from the cream.
Baby, I can't take it apart. Just eat it the way it is.       

HAPPY THANKSGIVING             

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4:45
*I am thankful for my family and my friends but mostly my family. And for batman and for legos. I am thankful for thanksgiving and for loving people and for helping people too. I am thankful for my lego table, but I want it to be a train table again. I am thankful for Nonna and Grandma Helen and Papa Claude and Papi and Tori and for Aunt Cathy and all of my cousins. And I am thankful for orphans because they can all come to live with us.

*I am thankful for my mom and dad and my room. I am thankful for love. I am thankful for loving people. I am thankful for giving people stuff and for having a twin. I am thankful for my family, for my toys and for my school and my car and my house and for love. I am mostly thankful for love and loving people and having a loving family.

*I am thankful for my family and farts and burps too (insert laughter from all the kids here). I am thankful for Nonna and the movie Inside Out. I am thankful for all my family and cousins and my grandparents. I am thankful for my mommy. I am thankful for my family being together and for everyone that helps each other and gives to people.

*I am thankful for Curious George and all the bulldozers in the whole world and for my mom and dad and for my turtle, Lucky.

HAPPY THANKSGIVING!

I couldn't be more thankful for my family.
All of my family.
The vomit and the poop and the tears and the whining.
Much of it, I'd like to forget but it doesn't mean I'm not thankful for it all.

I am extremely thankful for the sweetness, the tenderness, the humor and the love that my family is full of.
I am thankful that we serve an awesome God and in his likeness we serve each other.

HAPPY THANKSGIVING FROM OUR CRAZY FAMILY TO YOURS.

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    I am a  mother of 4 small children. I am happiest when I am busiest and if the kids don't keep me busy enough I need projects to fill my days.  I love Jesus and I love my family and I love the chaos around me for it brings the calm.

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