tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-382258372024-03-12T23:37:17.728-07:00Going Nowhere<img src="http://img.photobucket.com/albums/v425/cheribear/blogheader1copy.jpg" border="0" alt="Photobucket - Video and Image Hosting">
Credits: header template, Kimberly Geswein, Paper, Catrine, Felt, Tiff Brady, Alpha: Fee Jardine, Fonts: Rubberstamp, Mom's Typewritercheribearhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10454127394682222434noreply@blogger.comBlogger91125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-38225837.post-87358314132398246662012-04-30T08:55:00.002-07:002012-04-30T08:55:38.202-07:00How's it going - week oneSo far the jar thing is going well (for me, not for them!) - they were so excited to get their 'allowance' at the end of the
week and found there was about half as much in there as they started
with. But, they knew they hadn't done all their stuff either, so it
wasn't like they expected to get the full amount.<br />
<br />
The BEST part was when I tool their short list of chores (pathetic,
really) and said "OKAY, so who helped me do the dishes once without
asking this week?" *crickets* I pass around the mom jar and they all
put in one of their quarters. Same for the other three chores.
Madeleine had done two of them so she didn't have to pay in. That made
a very big impression on the ones paying.<br />
<br />
So after that, they had even LESS. I don't want to be buying rolls of quarters so I got them to put their
remaining quarters back in their jars, and gave them more quarters from the Bank of Mom so they're all
starting off with the same amount this week. I am stealing a page from
my friend Heather's book and just keeping a list on the fridge of money they have.
That's what she told me she does when her kids get/earn money,
instead of giving it to them she puts it on a list on the fridge so they
both know how much they have. So they're each starting the week with a jar full of quarters, and what they earned has been deposited
in the Bank of Mom. And it is paltry.<br />
<br />
So, then by Tuesday of the second week, the girls had each done all but one of their weekly
chores, and the older two fought over who would get to set the table the
other day, meanwhile Evan set it and they were outraged. Well, get it
done before I have to ask you! Lesson learned!<br />
<br />
This morning, my three year old came down stairs and told me he'd already made his bed. "Mom! I makea my BED! I a good boy! I get some moneys?" So at least one of the kids is motivated. I could pay Evan in pennies and he wouldn't care. I'm so glad I involved him in this 'system' - he's good at a lot of things like folding wash cloths, feeding the dogs, etc. and is so happy to have jobs to do. Unlike his grumbly older sisters who have been getting away with doing nothing for so long.cheribearhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10454127394682222434noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-38225837.post-87215828124738285552012-04-16T09:17:00.002-07:002012-04-16T09:45:28.609-07:00new somethingI have something to write down and didn't know where to write it, except a blog I haven't updated in a year and a half. Oh well!<br /><br />I'm starting something new with the kids and I hope it will be a good idea, or it might fall by the wayside (like, say - blogging?) but it might work and then I'll be glad I'm writing it down.<br /><br />I have decided it's time to have the kids do some chores, take some responsibility and this laissez-faire way of doing things has been more laissez than faire. I realized, they DO help when they are asked, they are capable, but I am just finding it easier to do things myself than be responsible for making them responsible. <br /><br />I pondered this for well over a year because I recall having conversations with my friend Christy about whether or not to tie chores to allowance (she is firmly in the NO camp) and I agree with her that children should just be responsible for chores because they are members of the household/family, they shouldn't require payment for these things. And that allowance is paid to them because they are members of the household/family, not because they are hired hands.<br /><br />However, there is the age-old question of how to get them to do anything without payment, and how grouchy parents get about handing over allowance to lazy kids who have done nothing to earn/deserve it. Not to mention the keeping track of who gets what and who does what and all of that. It's more work for the parent, right? I've looked at all kinds of chore charts and reward systems, using buttons and rocks and marbles and stickers and whatever. It all looks like work. I saw one that used pretty stones and jars but I do not have any pretty stones. Then it dawned on me - if these stones represent money (because, who are we kidding? It's going to add up to money...) then why not just use money in the first place? What better way to teach them the value of a dollar than to substitute pretty stones for actual money? <br /><br />Finally finished pondering, I have a solution. The kids are getting their 'allowance' in quarters. It goes into a jar with their name on it. They also have a list of simple things that they are expected to do as members of our family. There is a third jar with more quarters in it. All of this kept out of reach. I'm going to put their allowance in every week, in quarters. I told them, instead of reminding you to do stuff or not do stuff, I am just going to take a quarter from your jar and put it in the middle jar. Then I'll remind you to do whatever it is, because you are still responsible to do these things. At the end of the week whatever you are left with is your allowance.<br /><br />Then, I have another list of things I need help with that I would like them to do. I decided they can earn quarters by doing this stuff without being asked. If I ask them, they still have to do it of course, but no quarter. <br /><br />So, technically, they are getting paid not to do their chores, because they have to do them no matter what. They're just getting paid for me not to have to waste my time nagging them. They are getting paid for BEING RESPONSIBLE.<br /><br />First Step - Implementation<br /><br />So, here we go starting with the money jars, and already there is a ridiculous situation involving the choice of the little baskets I bought them to put their money in. The oldest child is having an emotional breakdown despite the super-duper fair pick a number between one and ten method to decide who gets to choose first, she gets to choose LAST, and does not get the one she wanted and is scowly. However the discussion of the system, the list made of chores and painting of the little baskets all continues as planned, despite one very sulky individual. <br /><br />Day 1<br /><br />I wake up this morning to the 6 year old all dressed and ready, her room spotlessly tidy, bed made and eager to have help with her first chore which is to let the dogs out every morning. So far, so good. The two older girls have been working on their room, and the sulky oldest declares she did not have time to make her bed, because she was cleaning. Other bed is made. Everyone gets to school.<br /><br />I go in the kitchen and there are four dishes of cereal still sitting out, despite the fact that it is clearly on their list of responsibilities to clear their dishes in the sink after eating. This is completely new to them, because I am ashamed to say I've always done it. So I don't blame them for forgetting, and didn't I say if I have to remind them, I will take a quarter?<br /><br />Okay, so here is the dilemma I think most parents face, the temptation to let something slide. We think, hey, maybe they didn't understand the rules, they need to get used to this new world order, we'll give them a chance, let them know they *could* have lost their quarter but don't take one yet, etc. We live in a world of expecting warnings, alternatives, second chances, etc.<br /><br />I am NOT going to be tempted! NEW RULE! I have decided that is a huge weakness in my parenting. They don't not understand the rules, they understand them just fine. It's me (the parent) who is deciding rules can bend and don't need to be followed. How the heck can I expect them to figure out that this is Serious Business if I am caving on day 1? It's a freaking quarter!<br /><br />So that is one huge important part of any plan - to make sure that as a parent, I will not be afraid to go through with any consequence I invent. If I will be tempted to do a "okay, just this once, but NEXT TIME...." then obviously I didn't do a good job picking a consequence for that action, if I am reluctant to apply it.<br /><br />So. Quarters taken from four dishes. One extra quarter removed from the girl who 'didn't have time' to make her bed because she was cleaning her room. I am not starting this out with excuses and exceptions! It will be doomed to failure!cheribearhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10454127394682222434noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-38225837.post-68110825319802279132010-10-08T08:51:00.000-07:002010-10-08T09:29:02.797-07:00Evan at 22 months<div style="text-align: center;"><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhdyGGHxCCwZJgYu5N3ki4JFP2O2YcKBwVYX_ZhBgTs91IOu5AhHzkQYkzQ1uoSAansZV3ON5RItPpquXx7fSPv1RIWwp2b4s6E_O-ptPkSN4j8aRsbtAiKCgvBctPkvxVh39g-tw/s1600/118_2378.JPG"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 299px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhdyGGHxCCwZJgYu5N3ki4JFP2O2YcKBwVYX_ZhBgTs91IOu5AhHzkQYkzQ1uoSAansZV3ON5RItPpquXx7fSPv1RIWwp2b4s6E_O-ptPkSN4j8aRsbtAiKCgvBctPkvxVh39g-tw/s400/118_2378.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5525711122896218674" border="0" /></a><br /><span style="font-style: italic;">I have 5 pictures like this and the dog's eyes are closed in all of them.<br /><br /><br /></span></div>What is this? An update??? Since I'm hopelessly behind on my 365 right now it seems easier to write an update here than to get caught up there. And I'm feeling lazy this morning. We finally found a TV program that Evan will sit still enough to watch for a few minutes: Waybuloo - and so I bought a DVD with a few episodes on it. Just knowing he's in the living room and not escaping the house or teetering on the edge of something for 15 minutes is so relaxing, I can sit here in the recliner with him watching Waybuloo, and even enjoy a cup of coffee before it gets cold. Waybuloo is very annoying, though - the kids have a theory that the reason they float is that their heads are big and full of air like balloons. Which makes more sense to me than the program's description which is that they do 'yogo' which is like yoga to reach a state of "buloo" so that they float. Uh, I'll take the balloon head theory, thanks. And we worry about exposing kids to drugs, etc. on TV. Try preschool programming. Seriously, I dare you to read the description here: <a href="http://www.bbc.co.uk/cbeebies/grownups/about/programmes/waybuloo.shtml">Waybuloo</a> and come to any conclusion other than the developers and writers are high.<br /><br /><a href="http://www.bbc.co.uk/cbeebies/grownups/images/waybuloo/waybuloo_group385.jpg"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 385px; height: 217px;" src="http://www.bbc.co.uk/cbeebies/grownups/images/waybuloo/waybuloo_group385.jpg" alt="" border="0" /></a><br />I wanted to write down all of Evan's words somewhere because my previous experience says that sometime in the next few months he'll go through some 'language explosion' where he'll know so many new words and learn so many more each day that it will be impossible to keep track. In the past month or so he's started using a lot of the same words regularly and it's surprising how much he can tell you with just the same 10-20 words. I'll try to remember what all of them are.<br /><br />Mom<br />Dad<br />Grandma and Grandpa (gamma, ganpa)<br />Memere and Pepere (mama, papay)<br />Madeleine (malala)<br />Dog, Pup, Beau, Doggy<br /><br />Notice he has four different words to refer to the dog, and only one word for a sister, even though he has three of them. Even though Madeleine's name should be the hardest to say, he's making an effort and I guess the other two simply don't rate. He knows their names (will point to the right sister if you ask "Where is Annique?" but he's not going to repeat them.<br /><br />Po-po = potty<br />caca<br />peepee<br /><br /><br />All of the toilet-related words are great, because he's telling us when he has to go, when he's gone already (unfortunately) and has been taking all of the initiative in that department. While I'm not going to get my hopes up that he'll be fully trained anytime soon, I'm glad to see he has an interest in the toilet long before any of my girls did. When he says he wants to go - he usually goes. My big girls had a lot bigger vocabularies when they started training but still seemed unable to tell me before they had to go and it was all a bunch of guessing and waiting. I still have video of Cecily singing her ABC's and other songs while she was sitting on the toilet. I am sure she'll appreciate that as she gets older. Until she was about three, Annique would just stare blankly or ignore any mention of anything toilet-related because she had no intention of using it.<br /><br />up<br />bye-bye<br />dodo (sleep)<br />la (means EVERYTHING)<br />shoes<br />tickle (dee-go, dee-go, dee-go)<br />peek-a-boo (a-boo-boo)<br />mine/my<br />tub<br />baloo (that stupid show)<br /><br />and of course - TA-TA. I always said I'd never teach my kids to say ta-ta, because wouldn't it be more polite to just teach them to say "please" if they want something? How hard is that? Please, please, please. For everything. What polite children I'd have. Sometime after the second child I realized, ta-ta is not a parental invention. It's not something you teach your children to say. It's something they teach you. It means I WANT THAT. And when you have a baby like mine who doesn't say anything else that means anything, and the meaning of TA-TA is crystal clear, you don't argue. It is a little bit classier than uh-uh-uh or crying, so I'll take it. Please can wait.cheribearhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10454127394682222434noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-38225837.post-86426076454501132952010-07-06T11:43:00.001-07:002010-10-08T09:33:43.957-07:00Day 6<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjS55_tFdijLZvnVVpz444CcP327QNvWLHgacTP5j2fSZ-3v-YZNm1oeAm80G9-Ok9dguXIcR1xETYjYDY9I16W7BTIr54Hk0XUXGeejtju56l0FNURD5roJIh4YtzvJWIk5H-ikg/s1600/IMG_0337.JPG"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center; width: 400px; display: block; height: 300px;" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5490866126307826290" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjS55_tFdijLZvnVVpz444CcP327QNvWLHgacTP5j2fSZ-3v-YZNm1oeAm80G9-Ok9dguXIcR1xETYjYDY9I16W7BTIr54Hk0XUXGeejtju56l0FNURD5roJIh4YtzvJWIk5H-ikg/s400/IMG_0337.JPG" border="0" /></a><br />And you ask, why is my van so dirty? Would you want to wash this off? Maybe it's a little bit Blair Witch Project, but I like it.<br /><br />That's Day 6 of my 365 that I started again, so if you're interested in checking it out, try the link on the right.<br /><div></div>cheribearhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10454127394682222434noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-38225837.post-69827554017553793042009-11-04T22:00:00.000-08:002009-11-04T22:12:36.611-08:00Christy made meChristy says that November is some sort of national post more on your blog month and so I am supposed to update my blog. Normally, I'd be suspicious but I've never known Christy to lie.<br /><br />Today's updated is on H1N1. I took my two youngest kids to get the shot because they are on the priority list, and unlike everywhere else in the country - it seems our area has some sort of sensible non-panic plan to get the shot into the arms of those who need it. I simply called a 1-800 number last week, somebody answered on the second ring, and so I gave my kids names and ages, and was booked for an appointment today.<br /><br />The actual clinic was set up in the gymnasium of an elementary school and it was so well staffed and organized that had I left my children at home, I might have imagined it to be a spa day. I likely could have sat and read magazines in peace for an hour and a half. But snapping back into reality - the reason I had to be there was to bring the two youngest for their shots, so it was certainly no picnic but that wasn't the fault of the H1N1 planning people. Our appointments were booked for 4:25 and 4:35 and there was a bit of a wait, and then I had to listen to an explanation about the shot, effects, give your kid tylenol, etc. We went with Annique first because I knew Evan would cry and then Annique would know it's supposed to hurt. She sat on my lap and the nurse told her to sing a song - she sang Twinkle Twinkle little star, and by the time she was done the shot was over, without even a twitch or tears. Evan was another matter - he was pretty insulted about the whole thing but they gave him a cookie after so it was all good.<br /><br />Then they make you wait around for 15 minutes to make sure you don't have a reaction to the shot, so we didn't get out of there until 5:48. I set a new land speed record getting both of my kids into the grocery store and was able to load up a cart and spend $125 on groceries AND take Annique to the bathroom before the store closed at 6:00.<br /><br />So that's today's update. Tomorrow I think I will tell you about my dog.cheribearhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10454127394682222434noreply@blogger.com11tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-38225837.post-73064751779766717152009-10-19T07:50:00.000-07:002009-10-19T09:25:51.384-07:00Summer/Fall/Winter?<div style="text-align: center;"><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhEOPj5WB__sqPd2Q6GIxJGO-4RJFA0c3iHqoTwDHRFehufdVHayOG1ip21w0n6nANh5Mf0UtivN8eLDTXU68AsAJ8zngvn6j4I8nd09dhgqXcsKXD3SBTVHopupdD1UveSdXy5Hg/s1600-h/20090917_2537.JPG"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 300px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhEOPj5WB__sqPd2Q6GIxJGO-4RJFA0c3iHqoTwDHRFehufdVHayOG1ip21w0n6nANh5Mf0UtivN8eLDTXU68AsAJ8zngvn6j4I8nd09dhgqXcsKXD3SBTVHopupdD1UveSdXy5Hg/s400/20090917_2537.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5394344421659822578" border="0" /></a><span style="font-style: italic;">Sept. 20, enjoying the heatwave</span><br /></div><br /><div style="text-align: center;"><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjncnbhlWOOtZLP7z6vp9b4znbprtUIFWXh_5Ala2fW4cNR4TNAPhe2P93GeOZKHsLD1K83Tx0MK2JIYIXL61D-Kz2SufZ6DK38zXmCeA3Two_ceXFL2aZq_sjM1W7w29vYJvxgOA/s1600-h/IMG_0039.JPG"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 300px; height: 400px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjncnbhlWOOtZLP7z6vp9b4znbprtUIFWXh_5Ala2fW4cNR4TNAPhe2P93GeOZKHsLD1K83Tx0MK2JIYIXL61D-Kz2SufZ6DK38zXmCeA3Two_ceXFL2aZq_sjM1W7w29vYJvxgOA/s400/IMG_0039.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5394339316434039378" border="0" /></a><br /><span style="font-style: italic;">First weeks of October - the sub-zero temps and snow seemed to be here to stay</span><br /><br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjDZg9ycrjjX1fQNqIVYNZ_7A3gQtCcpHD9acvfoK7CEBst-6og-yvRZSQ2Z-BeyCqQ9qpJAfcUGOvC4RlQdSIcfUltefgZGAsBlf1bFZgZGvCicznRdy2tKL8Buey2kBJJMCi0jg/s1600-h/IMG_0267.JPG"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 300px; height: 400px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjDZg9ycrjjX1fQNqIVYNZ_7A3gQtCcpHD9acvfoK7CEBst-6og-yvRZSQ2Z-BeyCqQ9qpJAfcUGOvC4RlQdSIcfUltefgZGAsBlf1bFZgZGvCicznRdy2tKL8Buey2kBJJMCi0jg/s400/IMG_0267.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5394341070536434770" border="0" /></a><span style="font-style: italic;">October 18 - and it's 20+ degrees again!</span><br /></div><br />Mother nature seems to have her seasons screwed up - we are having the weirdest weather lately! Usually we get some decent weather the last week or so of August and then when school starts in September, the long-sleeved/sweater weather starts and I can pack away all the shorts because the weather turns just that fast. This year, it was so different - we had a serious heatwave mid-September and finally enjoyed the hot weather that never really happened all summer.<br /><br />We were supposed to start building the cabin the last week of September, and Serge and his dad were out working on the foundation in the ridiculous heat and we were hopeful that the weather would still be nice and they'd get a good start on framing and have it all shingled and closed in before winter. But there were a number of delays and in a few short weeks we went from 'too hot' to 'snow and freezing cold' - and after two weeks of snow and below-freezing temps we didn't have much hope that we'd be able to get a long enough stretch for them to get it framed so we just tarped everything and they'll start in the spring. Disappointing, but at least we're not worrying about what the weather does anymore.<br /><div style="text-align: center;"><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEif9rBN3ekyNREF2MDdAx6XVxrdf8QV1wnHDdGa8kM1y1y52sNHdJ18vTR8arWl9MnLC9QGVFLP2GdgOiS3mBrqrLnVFBLBBat14Z3IeVsO-w9k4OF9doy54Aie7MeVE-9Qv8Hthw/s1600-h/IMG_0087.JPG"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 300px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEif9rBN3ekyNREF2MDdAx6XVxrdf8QV1wnHDdGa8kM1y1y52sNHdJ18vTR8arWl9MnLC9QGVFLP2GdgOiS3mBrqrLnVFBLBBat14Z3IeVsO-w9k4OF9doy54Aie7MeVE-9Qv8Hthw/s400/IMG_0087.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5394331736716962098" border="0" /></a><span style="font-style: italic;">Tarping everything and waiting for spring</span><br /></div><br /><br /><div style="text-align: center;"><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEij7j9CsR2Kv7Af61O34QkvC7_4Xk9sPhhsjPxwBRjuM7uYohFME409HpUJVmqdPhJ7w0d7QZhg-ZCBKKKIrlMYSZ5uDAjRVxzglPiwD33ri91k62BOahg1TYmSfqJEfE3RKilIqg/s1600-h/IMG_0077.JPG"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 300px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEij7j9CsR2Kv7Af61O34QkvC7_4Xk9sPhhsjPxwBRjuM7uYohFME409HpUJVmqdPhJ7w0d7QZhg-ZCBKKKIrlMYSZ5uDAjRVxzglPiwD33ri91k62BOahg1TYmSfqJEfE3RKilIqg/s400/IMG_0077.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5394329108097209122" border="0" /></a><span style="font-style: italic;">What's missing? Oh, just a cabin.</span><br /></div><br />This weekend, for example - Annique's birthday - the whole week was snowy and cold, and while I was hoping to go to the pumpkin patch to celebrate her birthday - it had been below freezing for 2 weeks, the kids were going to school every day in snow boots and winter jackets and mittens, and it seemed winter was settling in early. I seriously doubted the place would even be open, and how much fun would it be? So we planned a little party at our house on Saturday and booked a kids' theme room at the CanadInn so they could go in the pool and on the waterslides instead of a pumpkin patch visit.<br /><br /><div style="text-align: center;"><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi2OaZfaKh2J0SUP9aJ0KRx_aRBACE6IiVjstm0oXE5kvrSjnZqpX1nt20QHY4o5WKKqlYWbUqUBHgwA_xgdgTXELr5OogyCIzpfL0aiX5J6AY4Tue-HNkjXyBO_Tq2JY0XpU2gTQ/s1600-h/IMG_0144.JPG"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 300px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi2OaZfaKh2J0SUP9aJ0KRx_aRBACE6IiVjstm0oXE5kvrSjnZqpX1nt20QHY4o5WKKqlYWbUqUBHgwA_xgdgTXELr5OogyCIzpfL0aiX5J6AY4Tue-HNkjXyBO_Tq2JY0XpU2gTQ/s400/IMG_0144.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5394333763968832850" border="0" /></a><span style="font-style: italic;">My birthday girl - 4 years old!</span><br /><br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgy4koqggfTjMnXjfPVSHon20NS7KzZiiJ54h-ieW1phqduUpzcQ-OqEM7TDACuxGtBLI-J9mikpIosrNdbAQ2QdMJ9Xj5LQG_pGvuvhOKPvpQGi6OVPhR6Pv3uiwnDEXb9Ck1vNw/s1600-h/IMG_0193.JPG"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 300px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgy4koqggfTjMnXjfPVSHon20NS7KzZiiJ54h-ieW1phqduUpzcQ-OqEM7TDACuxGtBLI-J9mikpIosrNdbAQ2QdMJ9Xj5LQG_pGvuvhOKPvpQGi6OVPhR6Pv3uiwnDEXb9Ck1vNw/s400/IMG_0193.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5394335215368492722" border="0" /></a><span style="font-style: italic;">Loving her 'princess' room at 'the Canada'</span><br /></div><br /><br />And so Sunday arrived and the weather was just beautiful - so we decided to swing by the pumpkin patch to see if they were still open, and it was the perfect day for it! So we did that too - thank goodness it was so warm that the kids didn't need jackets or sweaters, because all we had in the van was their winter coats! It was hard to convince them after 2-3 weeks of cool/cold weather and snow that they could actually GO OUTSIDE without coats on. Leave your coats in the van. REALLY. You won't need them!<br /><br /><div style="text-align: center;"><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjRFaj7S47kGXul7YKe092lfGgEEltiMI5Zs7iK0MOnx91rz-zpth5rCWxY150gOHo6gSmGEeWuoPOwklr2Yt1u1cNA0iGw4oGPp-i-Ea2gzLcWz5Rddrx-UuQ2b16sJKCGXHlz7w/s1600-h/IMG_0204.JPG"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 300px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjRFaj7S47kGXul7YKe092lfGgEEltiMI5Zs7iK0MOnx91rz-zpth5rCWxY150gOHo6gSmGEeWuoPOwklr2Yt1u1cNA0iGw4oGPp-i-Ea2gzLcWz5Rddrx-UuQ2b16sJKCGXHlz7w/s400/IMG_0204.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5394336601586876130" border="0" /></a><span style="font-style: italic;">Beautiful day at Meandher Creek!<br /><br /></span><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgKOimJdmPVgvWQBJeNZeTxr9g-7muFEi5KIQfOz34Zb_qOTlrN_o484lGh7Xgd1OakqYApHLVPVkSk5IAwmPIAj1SYfr2NZvRu5ePvgly-C6ndt98QKjnai03HTdKwrEokWGLzTg/s1600-h/IMG_0289.JPG"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 300px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgKOimJdmPVgvWQBJeNZeTxr9g-7muFEi5KIQfOz34Zb_qOTlrN_o484lGh7Xgd1OakqYApHLVPVkSk5IAwmPIAj1SYfr2NZvRu5ePvgly-C6ndt98QKjnai03HTdKwrEokWGLzTg/s400/IMG_0289.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5394337285693899346" border="0" /></a><span style="font-style: italic;">Loving the warm sunshine and blue skies</span><br /><br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhMlL1Jvja5rfncykZdSbtxaKyhIFNMo3vFc5PqmPlV7wQhlQcPVEuUZFlTxXNl4G4prdA2jkziqh4xdKI0ZWRdXaklo60hbnXOHMAd6Wdml0i7MFsxtA39V5ZvZrVqmPaUpoh2Yg/s1600-h/IMG_0304.JPG"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 300px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhMlL1Jvja5rfncykZdSbtxaKyhIFNMo3vFc5PqmPlV7wQhlQcPVEuUZFlTxXNl4G4prdA2jkziqh4xdKI0ZWRdXaklo60hbnXOHMAd6Wdml0i7MFsxtA39V5ZvZrVqmPaUpoh2Yg/s400/IMG_0304.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5394338524875471746" border="0" /></a><span style="font-style: italic;">Racing ducks</span><br /><br /></div><br />This morning, the kids left for school in their winter jackets and mittens again. GAAAAAHHHH!!!! At least I didn't have to unpack their spring/fall jackets. Yet.cheribearhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10454127394682222434noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-38225837.post-32891440233544295472009-08-04T21:31:00.000-07:002009-08-20T00:57:37.980-07:00GAAAAAHHH! August again!You know I'm obsessed with sunset pictures, and so here's my top three sunset/beach pictures so far this summer:<br /><br /><div style="text-align: center;"><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh_KREhP-iLKFdfhnP3bv0chZbqryHigNgzdXHTIte4BXYKBg0NC88-9R0qmUVx75QH6_7l2KnyKtaO7QRe3mm49LDNnzI2OLxYUpKRqQK7AVsYeiSaXcqHza5sdYJSV6AbfwMQqw/s1600-h/20090717_1316.JPG"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 300px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh_KREhP-iLKFdfhnP3bv0chZbqryHigNgzdXHTIte4BXYKBg0NC88-9R0qmUVx75QH6_7l2KnyKtaO7QRe3mm49LDNnzI2OLxYUpKRqQK7AVsYeiSaXcqHza5sdYJSV6AbfwMQqw/s400/20090717_1316.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5371931497121395730" border="0" /></a><span style="font-style: italic;">Madeleine and Kayla on the dock</span><br /></div><div style="text-align: center;"><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgWn50vWuIKJiytBA7AA-P-p389VHKlee-crCkb6Dy6FWpzrCIXV3YKGdiB_LpQjQ1AgmC7wLu8rboi8t24fScWuYSxmgjVom1LHZ22hQzae9s44OsRt75j9VkDGelIk5Bm0A57Ew/s1600-h/20090706_1499.JPG"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 267px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgWn50vWuIKJiytBA7AA-P-p389VHKlee-crCkb6Dy6FWpzrCIXV3YKGdiB_LpQjQ1AgmC7wLu8rboi8t24fScWuYSxmgjVom1LHZ22hQzae9s44OsRt75j9VkDGelIk5Bm0A57Ew/s400/20090706_1499.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5371921621619027714" border="0" /></a><span style="font-style: italic;">Campfire on Craig's beach<br /></span></div><div style="text-align: center;"><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgaEg_aRkj3nKCGNf7195SKZ9NdMYpi-DQ9GJ2kge0X9NSGuRB3CrcOuHDcWswnab_CgrSap9QLFR6mmRpXo8FkPmTT4mTZYTtERJy0IgFAGa44JCtof_aUeZJy4z_FGVCibuK46A/s1600-h/20090707_1505.JPG"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 267px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgaEg_aRkj3nKCGNf7195SKZ9NdMYpi-DQ9GJ2kge0X9NSGuRB3CrcOuHDcWswnab_CgrSap9QLFR6mmRpXo8FkPmTT4mTZYTtERJy0IgFAGa44JCtof_aUeZJy4z_FGVCibuK46A/s400/20090707_1505.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5371921046911062098" border="0" /></a><span style="font-style: italic;">This one is actually a sunrise - thanks Evan for the wake-up call!</span><br /></div><br /><br />Where does July go? No, really - what the heck happens to July? June, I don't miss. I love finding myself at the end of June when it seems like June just started yesterday. But I hate when that happens with July. One day you're thinking "I can't believe it's July already! It's really summer! We're here!!!!" and the next day you wake up and it's - you guessed it - August.<br /><br />My second daughter has it figured out that since her birthday is at the very beginning of August, and her mother thinks August sneaks up on everyone - that her birthday gets thrown together in a panic when suddenly the days in July start with 3, and that means her birthday is in a few days, and nobody bought presents or sent out invitations and they swear they'll do a better job next year. No, this year - she caught on and started warning us when July was in the teens, that her birthday was going to be SOON. And July being like it is, I said - oh, no darling! Your birthday is in August. July just started, that's a long time from now. Don't worry, you'll have an awesome birthday!<br /><br /><br /><div style="text-align: center;"><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjpooEQaw4fu091oHLRkcv0lC922ZhJmR0VS5sHE0-jkMyR9DaKAvgQvD5cy4xUW5xgsK__RWTHNhL_HjtMAdP1GmWRjNvWjbwS1AuqLW2cThcmghEEZxwT4HwV6fFJ2GNbTM2e5A/s1600-h/20090805_2073.JPG"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 267px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjpooEQaw4fu091oHLRkcv0lC922ZhJmR0VS5sHE0-jkMyR9DaKAvgQvD5cy4xUW5xgsK__RWTHNhL_HjtMAdP1GmWRjNvWjbwS1AuqLW2cThcmghEEZxwT4HwV6fFJ2GNbTM2e5A/s400/20090805_2073.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5371922713274112770" border="0" /></a><span style="font-style: italic;">The ugliest birthday cake ever, but the kids liked it!</span><br /><br /></div>And sure enough, the last few days were a blind panic trying to pick a day and get people together and a cake and presents and... we had her birthday. One day late, but we managed to have a wonderful time and most of her favorite people there with her and some presents. I made a whirlwind trip to the city yesterday for a few last minute gifts and paper plates and treat bag candies and cake decorations, etc. We mini-golfed, built sand castles and played on the beach. It was a good day.<br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi0W7yGIjTVMWVku_Ck60ZWxC2wYnmlJ4MCWUzsmUzh3W5OkbTKnEw7VPfEGM-vCdKMGjeuhOOgPcM9l2PIpzXOwPMopGzMjmTU7CPAJ8tINp1mCsnQiLx9dVzpqEPdc7ZghXruOg/s1600-h/20090805_2077.JPG"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 267px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi0W7yGIjTVMWVku_Ck60ZWxC2wYnmlJ4MCWUzsmUzh3W5OkbTKnEw7VPfEGM-vCdKMGjeuhOOgPcM9l2PIpzXOwPMopGzMjmTU7CPAJ8tINp1mCsnQiLx9dVzpqEPdc7ZghXruOg/s400/20090805_2077.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5371923117813449570" border="0" /></a><br />When June and July flew by, so did a pile of milestones for Evan. One day we decided to see if he could sit up, and what do you know - he could! He was a little shaky so we put pillows behind him for awhile but he was amazingly stable pretty much from the start. He still doesn't roll over but he sits like a champ.<br /><div style="text-align: center;"><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhKxmm3lPenwDJ1JPqQ3kncJpun4Yv1yBXH-MzewFhmsPdZ7eA7jRGoIpB4-pcIvAJ_ELLHD35GFP7n-K7IturelUx6_yQKcDzXUJMU7mx8MHCfofeYXhQeORCiV1U-d6FQCAy9Dw/s1600-h/20090605_0742.JPG"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 300px; height: 400px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhKxmm3lPenwDJ1JPqQ3kncJpun4Yv1yBXH-MzewFhmsPdZ7eA7jRGoIpB4-pcIvAJ_ELLHD35GFP7n-K7IturelUx6_yQKcDzXUJMU7mx8MHCfofeYXhQeORCiV1U-d6FQCAy9Dw/s400/20090605_0742.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5371913932883091506" border="0" /></a><span style="font-style: italic;">Sitting, with pillows for protection. It was also handy having sisters to sit behind him</span> <span style="font-style: italic;">and catch him before he toppled over.</span><br /><br /></div>Evan went to school for the first time at 6 months old - Madeleine brought him for show and tell. It was hard to stand at the back of the class and just watch - but both Madeleine and Evan did a wonderful job. I have video if anyone is interested in listening to show and tell in French, but otherwise, here's a photo or two.<br /><br /><div style="text-align: center;"><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhbDFoe_9xz9rw05_QulH_5GNDp3sTYOkjxCzoTXpjOpf39ZTVQamF6RGGZY70upmL67SsG_va_3JXUo6X8EhH1-HOjc58ei9UvRkTXvCjk_rHSumk7rQtj22kW-g0YLv1aiOHgTg/s1600-h/20090605_0734.JPG"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 300px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhbDFoe_9xz9rw05_QulH_5GNDp3sTYOkjxCzoTXpjOpf39ZTVQamF6RGGZY70upmL67SsG_va_3JXUo6X8EhH1-HOjc58ei9UvRkTXvCjk_rHSumk7rQtj22kW-g0YLv1aiOHgTg/s400/20090605_0734.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5371914904979643762" border="0" /></a><span style="font-style: italic;">all of the kids lining up to see our baby</span> <span style="font-style: italic;">- it was also pyjama day in case you're wondering</span><br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj-9pmSrYDLzYFsNDwLWotqqNdxEa_emySqSKeVecPC4zMarvJkPLUkHWmTcOcvNbOxagVk2ghr_YXJrp55a0IFophOZRfnD883m2LgYXeZdmtxMHMWw1rmeV4MF8n1IOj0axOpiA/s1600-h/evan+at+school.jpg"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 267px; height: 400px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj-9pmSrYDLzYFsNDwLWotqqNdxEa_emySqSKeVecPC4zMarvJkPLUkHWmTcOcvNbOxagVk2ghr_YXJrp55a0IFophOZRfnD883m2LgYXeZdmtxMHMWw1rmeV4MF8n1IOj0axOpiA/s400/evan+at+school.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5371917846183761490" border="0" /></a><span style="font-style: italic;">Evan rocking the visitor's pass - school is serious stuff!</span><br /><br /><object width="445" height="364"><param name="movie" value="http://www.youtube.com/v/UtRYNup2L8k&hl=en&fs=1&rel=0&border=1"></param><param name="allowFullScreen" value="true"></param><param name="allowscriptaccess" value="always"></param><embed src="http://www.youtube.com/v/UtRYNup2L8k&hl=en&fs=1&rel=0&border=1" type="application/x-shockwave-flash" allowscriptaccess="always" allowfullscreen="true" width="445" height="364"></embed></object><br /></div><br />He also tried baby cereal and baby food for the first time - and wasn't loving either option. He went to the summer fair and watched his sisters go on all the rides, eat mini-donuts and hang out with goats in the petting zoo.<br /><br /><div style="text-align: center;"><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi7mcbGMZ-ItUUUQMsHNAGaCOfuRlR9JDdGfkNw1Hpzqzl83cF9vxYzYll4vXXvEJBaxhI9ha3Ze5oT-1qIYtuILhn8VsSUeDRqYNPKQwqRhyphenhyphen9QMqYmf2GHIEjElKiFdPKyrx1R8g/s1600-h/20090607_0826.JPG"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 300px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi7mcbGMZ-ItUUUQMsHNAGaCOfuRlR9JDdGfkNw1Hpzqzl83cF9vxYzYll4vXXvEJBaxhI9ha3Ze5oT-1qIYtuILhn8VsSUeDRqYNPKQwqRhyphenhyphen9QMqYmf2GHIEjElKiFdPKyrx1R8g/s400/20090607_0826.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5371920555781945858" border="0" /></a><span style="font-style: italic;">Madeleine on the giant swing</span><br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjPFBgZl80MnYD1y7Te8qWifkIUmNGIJ-NEnxOPPL-0mVJ5RwYXDOAnlWIivIzTl7FL3AgTBgCpYKvdHF3RfA_FRz25tFWl7FmlUVmwm12zwMCd3VBv6ucioadAVlYsxpHQWP4qSQ/s1600-h/20090607_0827.JPG"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 300px; height: 400px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjPFBgZl80MnYD1y7Te8qWifkIUmNGIJ-NEnxOPPL-0mVJ5RwYXDOAnlWIivIzTl7FL3AgTBgCpYKvdHF3RfA_FRz25tFWl7FmlUVmwm12zwMCd3VBv6ucioadAVlYsxpHQWP4qSQ/s400/20090607_0827.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5371919323630426402" border="0" /></a><span style="font-style: italic;">And mini-donuts, of course!</span><br /><br /><div style="text-align: left;">Evan had his first boat ride, and went fishing for the first time. The fishing trip was short lived, not only because it's crazy to be in a boat with three kids, one baby and four fishing rods, but because there were dark clouds gathering. Yeah, that's why we went in so soon. It was the clouds.<br /></div></div><br /><div style="text-align: center;"><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjbSIiNsDtjBDgZnW20H0DRgpb-ZmvrJ0mkbsSjHCuQSpC9oZ5WmlXbUDm8MHoAPW9xoRWRtxaq15qNR0seOIsZ8pgy5qnUTVvNrsicmyz8u5EYVlBKy3UlemEFzrYtpqcNhsKcOg/s1600-h/20090704_1445.JPG"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 267px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjbSIiNsDtjBDgZnW20H0DRgpb-ZmvrJ0mkbsSjHCuQSpC9oZ5WmlXbUDm8MHoAPW9xoRWRtxaq15qNR0seOIsZ8pgy5qnUTVvNrsicmyz8u5EYVlBKy3UlemEFzrYtpqcNhsKcOg/s400/20090704_1445.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5371923882354115458" border="0" /></a><span style="font-style: italic;">Getting ready to go in his 'Gone Fishin' with Dad' shirt and his fishing hat!</span><br /></div><br /><div style="text-align: center;"><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi8qoLT1SJQILD1EKswu7J3vDm-H0So6IFGg0jRbFX1BcKrOtAwe3uVziyAXD0sSw81_zGufn0yDvySjw5jSKj23iGLPeN1BpH9V4EIt_Kdal8-eUOqZhB4O9nzGA_FlfS_RrN-Rw/s1600-h/20090704_1477.JPG"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 267px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi8qoLT1SJQILD1EKswu7J3vDm-H0So6IFGg0jRbFX1BcKrOtAwe3uVziyAXD0sSw81_zGufn0yDvySjw5jSKj23iGLPeN1BpH9V4EIt_Kdal8-eUOqZhB4O9nzGA_FlfS_RrN-Rw/s400/20090704_1477.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5371924733954245026" border="0" /></a><span style="font-style: italic;">Loving the boat ride!</span> (see? Clouds!)<br /></div><br />His first tooth broke through the first week of July, and a second one followed about a day after the first. I remember this because my girls were having an incredibly rainy and awful and windy and cold week of swimming lessons and there was nothing like a bit of teething to add to the misery. Annique took lessons for the first time and freaked out about the weeds touching her feet - which is awful I admit but would be the least of my worries if I was freezing cold in the wind with massive waves splashing about my waist and somebody expected me to put my face in the water and blow bubbles. I don't tell the kids that, of course.<br /><br /><div style="text-align: center;"><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhCxxz6krXGVoxxxyogUHQicOfA42Uv0kz84SLflanHoYA4dNEiQt0XekjGZ-BNcO9ohhfOKY3OfDLXXLDLYsIDERFjPVT1t1aGweooD7yGmOVXeyYMltYx1ootYV8BQ0hBa7VYow/s1600-h/20090705_1200.JPG"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 300px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhCxxz6krXGVoxxxyogUHQicOfA42Uv0kz84SLflanHoYA4dNEiQt0XekjGZ-BNcO9ohhfOKY3OfDLXXLDLYsIDERFjPVT1t1aGweooD7yGmOVXeyYMltYx1ootYV8BQ0hBa7VYow/s400/20090705_1200.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5371912005099244674" border="0" /></a><span style="font-style: italic;">The first day (and only nice day) of swimming lessons</span><br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhUdISOCXtA7vbvrdPAMjbKA6wCIPo7-qOhP8aaLc_qfb-Iu_vsWtjLZ06b42b1FKd58YNSgSRbzv-veYvXkI9tOe9LVbcRoXhpK6UKDJoCgloHpIKzMcOKi_IJdpaC5pLcmlwKJA/s1600-h/20090711_1516.JPG"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 267px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhUdISOCXtA7vbvrdPAMjbKA6wCIPo7-qOhP8aaLc_qfb-Iu_vsWtjLZ06b42b1FKd58YNSgSRbzv-veYvXkI9tOe9LVbcRoXhpK6UKDJoCgloHpIKzMcOKi_IJdpaC5pLcmlwKJA/s400/20090711_1516.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5371928807174608178" border="0" /></a><span style="font-style: italic;">The rest of the days were more like this, and worse. </span> <span style="font-style: italic;">Sometimes they couldn't even go in the water!</span><br /></div><br />There was also a first for me in July - my dad bought a pair of jet-skis because one obviously isn't enough. So I had my first ride on a jet-ski, and also got dumped off for the first time. Apparently these particular jet-skis really are meant only for one person, so jumping on as a passenger isn't a good idea unless one or both of you weighs less than 100 pounds. And I obviously don't. The kids love the jet-skis, even though Madeleine had a scare when my dad rolled one of them with her on it and it was swamped so they had to swim to shore. She was really good about it but now has no doubt about the importance of life jackets.<br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiGjz6xrVXNh4y_WM_JOqnz8bVlyWYUcsc30sVpSLiSBIFmSAdWgx6PKQS3IVF3peZj5e0sV0qu2oxUgS5Aay5cFTSuP6uS5B3B_vdlxUHf6If5ppmilEGe-Deg583_d5pq2cBPeQ/s1600-h/20090718_1336.JPG"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 300px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiGjz6xrVXNh4y_WM_JOqnz8bVlyWYUcsc30sVpSLiSBIFmSAdWgx6PKQS3IVF3peZj5e0sV0qu2oxUgS5Aay5cFTSuP6uS5B3B_vdlxUHf6If5ppmilEGe-Deg583_d5pq2cBPeQ/s400/20090718_1336.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5371929836882095522" border="0" /></a><br /><br />The jet-ski purchase coincided with my dad's 50th birthday and we had a big party with an amazing seafood boil and fireworks on the beach. That was Evan's first experience with fireworks and he didn't freak out about it even though some of them were incredibly loud. Which is odd because now he'll freak out if I start the vacuum cleaner in the same room.<br /><br />Evan had another immunization and visit with the health nurse, and weighed in at 22 pounds! I guess I don't have to worry that he has no interest in real food yet - he's obviously not starving!<br /><br /><div style="text-align: center;"><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhNB-4C-jbRYFMnM47UVkAv5TC_m-GIUYxuUaxSj9OtYBvSH75MfSfvQH5pmAQdZGb1koGv2jCaeOnYmBCryRiAAgJllvgZsw4D19DPukMlmlpJJuIkkglaRR-X042il_nH_HPUPg/s1600-h/20090730_1948.JPG"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 267px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhNB-4C-jbRYFMnM47UVkAv5TC_m-GIUYxuUaxSj9OtYBvSH75MfSfvQH5pmAQdZGb1koGv2jCaeOnYmBCryRiAAgJllvgZsw4D19DPukMlmlpJJuIkkglaRR-X042il_nH_HPUPg/s400/20090730_1948.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5371934239557018754" border="0" /></a><span style="font-style: italic;">Look at those legs! HUGE! </span><br /><br /></div>I think this summer is flying by even faster than usual because we're also up to our eyeballs in plans to get a new cabin built across the road from my parents' cabin at the lake. The lot was cleared last fall but we needed to bring in a bobcat and get all of the brush out, pull the roots and dig a big hole for the crawl space. We have our building permit and approval to go ahead! If all goes well we'll be framing it this fall.<br /><br /><div style="text-align: center;"><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://photos-d.ak.fbcdn.net/hphotos-ak-snc1/hs174.snc1/6560_144134000378_623750378_3743307_264094_n.jpg"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 604px; height: 427px;" src="http://photos-d.ak.fbcdn.net/hphotos-ak-snc1/hs174.snc1/6560_144134000378_623750378_3743307_264094_n.jpg" alt="" border="0" /></a><span style="font-style: italic;">We're making a few changes, but this plan is what we're starting with.</span><br /></div>cheribearhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10454127394682222434noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-38225837.post-79316859504643839812009-05-27T07:16:00.000-07:002009-05-27T08:07:27.176-07:00Marriage as a wordI'm 9 years into a marriage now and wondering why there is all this argument over the rights of people to be married, rights for marriage to be recognized, etc.<br /><br />I think everyone's missing out on the more meaningful words, which are 'partner' and 'partnership'. Nine years into marriage, and it's the partnership that is most important to me. I remember about a decade ago I was working one day and one of my colleagues said she had met a former classmate and her 'partner' over the weekend. That kind of set me immediately wondering if this person's 'partner' was male or female. Because surely, if it was her boyfriend, wouldn't you just say 'boyfriend'? Or, fiancee? Why use partner unless you are struggling for a way to describe something? Or maybe they're living together but not married, because then you'd say 'husband' or 'wife' - for some reason it seemed weird to describe a spouse as someone's partner. I was engaged at the time - and for some reason would not have thought to describe my this person I was planning to join my life with as my 'partner'.<br /><br />It wasn't always so complicated. When I was a child in school, we were always encouraged to pick partners. We 'partnered up' - we had partners for walking down the hall, partners for homework and reading and activities in gym class. We didn't choose husbands or wives, or girlfriends - we chose partners. It didn't matter whether you chose a boy or a girl - of course most people chose a same-sex partner, because there was quite a stigma to being partnered up with someone of the opposite sex. Heaven forbid all your friends tease you for having a boyfriend or girlfriend.<br /><br />Today I am watching an interview with a same-sex couple and the discussion, as it always does - turns to the definition of marriage, etc. They weren't in favor of having any name other than marriage for their partnership. They said - it's like in the past where the white people and black people couldn't drink from the same fountain, sure everyone gets water but the point is not to let the black people taint the water from the fountain for the white people. And it is the same with marriage, by giving it a different name, you're separating because you fear that the word marriage will be tainted by the same sex couples using it.<br /><br />I completely disagree, I don't think there is any taint to using it. I just think a better more accurate word is in order. I'm very attached to the word 'marriage' to describe my relationship with my husband, because its something I did in a Church before God, and actually according to my belief system - it means a partnership between myself, my husband and God. That is what it means to me, but of course I understand it's completely different for other people. There are plenty of marriages out there where God is not the third partner, and I don't think that 'taints' my marriage. Whatever - that's MY definition, and I don't expect everyone to use it the same way I do.<br /><br />What is becoming more clear to me as the years go by is that the partnership is most important - without that, do you really have a marriage? How many married people would describe their spouse as a partner? We're worried that the definition of marriage is being tainted - what about partnership? It doesn't matter who you choose, but rather by how you behave as a partner. Building strong partnerships will strengthen the definition. What if we started to really think as partners, and to make a commitment (hopefully lifelong) to this partnership?<br /><br />Maybe we need to ditch the arguments about marriage and the definition. It means different things to different people, and I don't think it's the government's business to define or change it. But it is the government's business to recognize partnerships - and to treat all people the same regardless of who they decide to partner up with. So, let's just all pick a partner. And if you would describe your partnership as a marriage because you had a wedding, then good for you, whoever you are. But if it's just this word we're all arguing about, I have to wonder if maybe what everyone really wants is a partner, and a partnership. They want their partnership to be recognized by the government and respected equally. It's just like when we were in school - choosing a partner doesn't in any way imply whether you should be picking a boy or a girl. We need to use a word like that. It seems to be more fitting than marriage, anyway.cheribearhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10454127394682222434noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-38225837.post-13442663113411704022009-05-26T22:45:00.000-07:002009-06-08T21:57:49.593-07:00The month of MAYSo, obviously Evan is being five months old for most of this month, and it's a busy one. We had that trip to Minot, several birthdays for Madeleine, Mother's day, Evan's baptism, and our first trips to the lake for the year. Oh, and this other little project, which is actually so big, it deserves its own post.<br /><br />Madeleine seems to think that turning eight has made her into a babysitter, so she's gone from holding him on the couch, with supervision - to picking him up and carting him around with her everywhere. He doesn't seem to mind at all - he's getting sick of laying in the same place and no longer cares who picks him up as long as he is up. I'm still trying not to have a heart attack every time he's not where I left him last.<br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://photos-g.ak.fbcdn.net/photos-ak-snc1/v2747/88/34/623750378/n623750378_2932670_5802490.jpg"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 453px; height: 604px;" src="http://photos-g.ak.fbcdn.net/photos-ak-snc1/v2747/88/34/623750378/n623750378_2932670_5802490.jpg" alt="" border="0" /></a><br />The weather's getting nicer and so we have been out with the stroller a few times, it never fails that Evan will fall asleep before we get home. I am not sure if it's the stroller or being bundled up so tight but I guess we'll find out when it warms up.<br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://photos-b.ak.fbcdn.net/photos-ak-snc1/v2747/88/34/623750378/n623750378_2932673_6901838.jpg"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 604px; height: 453px;" src="http://photos-b.ak.fbcdn.net/photos-ak-snc1/v2747/88/34/623750378/n623750378_2932673_6901838.jpg" alt="" border="0" /></a><br />He put up with the whole baptism thing, actually sort of acted like he was interested for some parts of it. Didn't scream until we wanted to take family pictures at the end. So that didn't happen.<br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhast3VjYP9MPH4xSzyUdXdR-64CYWULnH1GpvERSDR8KNPqr1WZG2Cl2E7uWmX7-owuNelGq2J8s0cpNIXvxqRKas5ANuvqLzFH0r3Oi7fBl7X7aKH76J0JMKXhZRNczIjrbTjaA/s1600-h/20090503_0074.JPG"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 267px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhast3VjYP9MPH4xSzyUdXdR-64CYWULnH1GpvERSDR8KNPqr1WZG2Cl2E7uWmX7-owuNelGq2J8s0cpNIXvxqRKas5ANuvqLzFH0r3Oi7fBl7X7aKH76J0JMKXhZRNczIjrbTjaA/s400/20090503_0074.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5345163262788293394" border="0" /></a><br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://photos-b.ak.fbcdn.net/hphotos-ak-snc1/hs030.snc1/4295_99396150378_623750378_2957409_1072190_n.jpg"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 604px; height: 403px;" src="http://photos-b.ak.fbcdn.net/hphotos-ak-snc1/hs030.snc1/4295_99396150378_623750378_2957409_1072190_n.jpg" alt="" border="0" /></a>I do have an update on Evan's size and weight since he went for another round of immunizations and was weighed and measured by the health nurse. He was pretty friendly with her, so he must forget how these visits end. He was 18 lbs, 2 1/2 oz on May 6, 26 1/2 inches long.<br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiCruYchKA7oskijhx4PpnFHVtzuz-wBt9PCXcWmFLNhVgN6BYOl6MHfLcKqtrW8IQDft0z5gY5MkyWjYlzWHfx5BpQfJl64dtLKmv6fu5dQB3_CzIOjAbwh181DyJNveODXDtbRg/s1600-h/20090506_0672.JPG"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 300px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiCruYchKA7oskijhx4PpnFHVtzuz-wBt9PCXcWmFLNhVgN6BYOl6MHfLcKqtrW8IQDft0z5gY5MkyWjYlzWHfx5BpQfJl64dtLKmv6fu5dQB3_CzIOjAbwh181DyJNveODXDtbRg/s400/20090506_0672.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5345169092956479282" border="0" /></a><br />He's not rolling over yet, I can't remember when babies are really supposed to do that - I am sure he could if he put his mind do it, but he's just not that into it. He somehow manages to rotate himself around on the floor so his feet are where his head was ten minutes ago, but he hasn't bothered rolling. I can only assume it's because he hates being on his belly, so why would he put himself that way on purpose?cheribearhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10454127394682222434noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-38225837.post-68049793637230964662009-05-11T09:22:00.000-07:002009-05-26T22:45:29.808-07:00Happy Mother's DayWe spent Mother's Day out of the country - we went to Minot, ND for the weekend because there's a hotel there with a waterslide park and a mall attached, and a Target in the mall, and a Wal-Mart that is open 24 hours, and that is a good combination of things for a weekend away with the kids.<br /><br />Unfortunately, the hotel always makes us check out at noon on Sunday, and we weren't nearly done with the shopping and all of that - which means that we spent the afternoon hauling 4 kids around the mall with us. I sent the oldest 3 with my husband to the food court for something to eat and to play in the kids' room, and I took the baby and ran through a few stores madly grabbing things while he slept soundly. I got to the checkout in the first store with an armful of ridiculously cute and cheap baby clothes to find that I didn't have my credit card, I'd left that with my husband at the other end of the mall.<br /><br />And the day just carried on like that - we ran around like crazy with the kids in tow, in and out of the van, from store to store. Evan had a blowout diaper in Wal-Mart and I had his diaper bag and a clean outfit but no wipes. And three little girls running around the public washroom with huge lengths of paper towel trying to 'help'. Just stuff like that which is only made better by people constantly saying "Happy Mother's Day" to me wherever we went because it was likely obvious that I was the mother of all these kids, because nobody in their right mind would willingly take someone else's offspring shopping all day. Despite all that, we managed to get everything on the list, and even got Madeleine's ears pierced, we fed everyone and packed the van and were out of the city by 5:00. Not bad!<br /><br /><div style="text-align: center;"><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://photos-f.ak.fbcdn.net/hphotos-ak-snc1/hs035.snc1/4323_102349305378_623750378_3006861_7167556_n.jpg"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 604px; height: 453px;" src="http://photos-f.ak.fbcdn.net/hphotos-ak-snc1/hs035.snc1/4323_102349305378_623750378_3006861_7167556_n.jpg" alt="" border="0" /></a><span style="font-style: italic;">Madeleine started making the cringe face before they even touched her ears - </span><br /><span style="font-style: italic;">and then suddenly, it was done!</span><br /></div><br /><br />So, we loaded up the van and headed across the border (where once again, I fumbled on the question of how many kids we have, and Serge laughed at me, again) and they don't stop us for long at all because it just seems like too much trouble, which is right - and that is good. We made it back home by 8:00 and droppped in to say Happy Mother's Day to Memere, and threw our filthy kids in the shower to clean them off for school tomorrow, and cleaned Madeleine's earrings and phoned Grandma to say Happy Mother's Day to her, too, and got everyone in bed, and that was good, too.<br /><br />I wanted to just relax but a trip like that leaves a pile of laundry waiting to be done and a pile of shopping bags stacked on the kitchen table - so I started to get at that when I noticed a big juice box wrapped with duct tape and an envelope that says "Happy Mother's Day" on the outside. I had to take the chance that it was for me. And, inside...<br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://www.purelygadgets.co.uk/images/user/products/ipodnano_purple.jpg"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 480px; height: 480px;" src="http://www.purelygadgets.co.uk/images/user/products/ipodnano_purple.jpg" alt="" border="0" /></a><br />Now, just to figure out how to work the thing! I'm so excited! I can only assume it is to block out the kids if I have another day like I had today! YESSSSSS!!!cheribearhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10454127394682222434noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-38225837.post-53925276136996286222009-04-10T09:41:00.000-07:002009-05-26T22:34:01.288-07:00So, four months now?<div style="text-align: center;"><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgy2qbm2aN-pT1o4eudsha6lJyF5RMfgAYpVnt2psTFuU71JcZAPdGVTwN0P1pm637EQL6sBaK1I8bbiy6K3RDJK4hB-F5C8ybUJImA3PS-zTvrQGkbMZ_mJscUpoMOhwNu8HIvXQ/s1600-h/IMG_0060.JPG"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 300px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgy2qbm2aN-pT1o4eudsha6lJyF5RMfgAYpVnt2psTFuU71JcZAPdGVTwN0P1pm637EQL6sBaK1I8bbiy6K3RDJK4hB-F5C8ybUJImA3PS-zTvrQGkbMZ_mJscUpoMOhwNu8HIvXQ/s400/IMG_0060.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5329740624565575234" border="0" /></a> <span style="font-style: italic;">An outfit that all his sisters wore at one time</span> <span style="font-style: italic;">- they always looked like boys in it</span><br /><br /></div>See the little change-up in the title? I'm always thinking of new ideas like that. Just to keep things interesting. I figured 12 months of "Baby at X months" might get a little dry.<br /><br />Anyway, so obviously, he's 4 months old now. And currently going aaaarrragh, arragaaahhh, raaaaaahhh!!! RAH! in his exersaucer. So hit save and come back later, I guess.<br /><div style="text-align: center;"><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj7F6URxq84rnase08FG4GCWoKX-6VWShncId1QPM1GYXRejffW25fs9iAQHv4QpWPhZEfJ8WKHbNQaL0zG93fBMoGoHW2uDua5Kdnah72qiFnEMRlpLEmgx7FEAeiIbVDpPve3bg/s1600-h/SDC10266.JPG"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 300px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj7F6URxq84rnase08FG4GCWoKX-6VWShncId1QPM1GYXRejffW25fs9iAQHv4QpWPhZEfJ8WKHbNQaL0zG93fBMoGoHW2uDua5Kdnah72qiFnEMRlpLEmgx7FEAeiIbVDpPve3bg/s400/SDC10266.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5329748810955292130" border="0" /></a><span style="font-style: italic;">Someone who doesn't have a pukey baby might have changed his shirt</span><br /></div><div style="text-align: center;"><br /></div><br />Soooo, much later, we're continuing. I have nothing to add about his dimensions, because he hasn't been weighed or measured recently. The old familiar complaint about him continuing to grow out of clothes - he seems to be long in the body, still in size 2 diapers but will probably be moving up a size soon. Everything's 3-6 months for his clothes, much of the stuff that says '3 months' probably doesn't mean 'to six months' as the wrists and pant legs are getting short. I need to go shopping for sleepers and things - the seasons are changing and I don't know what to buy for pants and shirts but I do know he can still wear sleepers in the summer so those seem like a safe bet.<br /><br />He's liking his Bumbo seat and the exersaucer a lot - he must be longer than his sisters as he stared out one button up in the exersaucer, I stuck him in there on the lowest setting and his feet were flat on the bottom so he needed to go up a notch right from the start. He can move himself in a circle slowly so I wonder if he'll ever get the hang of spinning madly like Annique did? Maybe she'll show him how.<br /><br />His fine motor skills are coming along very well - his arms seem to move at random, but his fingers are very precise. He has trouble getting his hands to something that he wants, but once he's touching it - he is good at grabbing and holding and moving things with his fingers. He can always grab the chain around my neck or the strings on my hoodie<br /><br />Evan's still spitting up more than I think he should, because not at all would be my preferred option, of course. But it really is a lot and I am sure he must have reflux or something. I've been told that his dad spit up like that all the time when he was a baby so I guess I shouldn't complain about having only one out of the four kids inheriting that gem from him. Seems a giant waste of milk so I'm glad we're not paying for formula at this point. And also glad it doesn't stain because we'd all need a new wardrobe and possibly new carpeting, bedding and furniture if it did.<br /><br />He's laughing out loud a little more lately - mostly if you tickle him around the ribs or really put in an effort, or ask him something funny like "Did you pee on your dad?" - then he'll laugh about that. Because it IS funny. He loves questions.<br /><br /><div style="text-align: center;"><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://photos-d.ak.fbcdn.net/photos-ak-snc1/v2563/88/34/623750378/n623750378_2759427_7826823.jpg"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 403px; height: 604px;" src="http://photos-d.ak.fbcdn.net/photos-ak-snc1/v2563/88/34/623750378/n623750378_2759427_7826823.jpg" alt="" border="0" /></a> <span style="font-style: italic;">Mr. Popular with the girls, already. Unfortunately they're all his sisters.</span><br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://photos-g.ak.fbcdn.net/photos-ak-snc1/v2563/88/34/623750378/n623750378_2759430_5717459.jpg"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 403px; height: 604px;" src="http://photos-g.ak.fbcdn.net/photos-ak-snc1/v2563/88/34/623750378/n623750378_2759430_5717459.jpg" alt="" border="0" /></a><br /></div><br /><br />He got himself into this nice habit of sleeping from about 10 until 6 or 7 am, that went on for a week so I did the stupid thing and bragged about it on Facebook, and he hasn't done it again since. He's been getting up at 1:30 and/or 4 or whenever he darn well feels like it, for the last three weeks or so. He goes back and forth between his bed and ours because I'm too tired to move him when he falls asleep back in our bed -but if he doesn't fall back asleep and his arms want to wave around and he wants to talk, then I move him to his bed. I'd really like for us to figure out some kind of routine because nights are just a blur. The only thing he seems to have figured out is that he'd like to be awake for the day at 7:15. For sure. And he doesn't seem to care that his mom and sisters and would like to sleep until eight.cheribearhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10454127394682222434noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-38225837.post-44725618598565377052009-03-15T23:06:00.000-07:002009-03-27T22:21:33.322-07:00Evan at 3 months<div style="text-align: center;"><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://photos-b.ak.fbcdn.net/hphotos-ak-snc1/hs023.snc1/2563_77549910378_623750378_2759073_5485028_n.jpg"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 604px; height: 453px;" src="http://photos-b.ak.fbcdn.net/hphotos-ak-snc1/hs023.snc1/2563_77549910378_623750378_2759073_5485028_n.jpg" alt="" border="0" /></a><span style="font-style: italic;">Hurry up, lady - I'm cold!</span><br /></div><br /><br />Dimensions: 14 lbs, at least. He was weighed at his first immunization about 10 days ago, and was 14 lbs. He will start wearing size 2 diapers when we run out of the 1/2 diapers in a day or so. He's out of all his newborn clothes and wearing 3 months and up, including a couple of things that say 6 months on them. And looking at his 6 month old cousin, I have to say that's just faulty labeling.<br /><br /><div style="text-align: center;"><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://photos-a.ak.fbcdn.net/photos-ak-snc1/v2314/88/34/623750378/n623750378_2547032_8539.jpg"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 604px; height: 403px;" src="http://photos-a.ak.fbcdn.net/photos-ak-snc1/v2314/88/34/623750378/n623750378_2547032_8539.jpg" alt="" border="0" /></a><span style="font-style: italic;">Getting to the end of the 'evil' 1-2 diapers<br /></span></div><br />I think pretty soon he's going to decide he doesn't want to sleep with us anymore. He's doing the things the girls all did around 3-4 months, starting to sleep with his arms all spread out instead of tucked in, doesn't need to be swaddled quite so much anymore, and seems kind of mad that we're in his space when he wakes up in the middle of the night. One thing he's NOT doing, though - is sleeping long enough to really make the move worthwhile. He's had a good long stretch of sleep one or two nights, but he's not making a habit of it. He's got a bit of a cold and we all know how much fun it is to sleep with a cold, so maybe he's just mad about that waking him up, too.<br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://photos-c.ak.fbcdn.net/hphotos-ak-snc1/hs023.snc1/2563_77612805378_623750378_2760202_4800990_n.jpg"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 604px; height: 403px;" src="http://photos-c.ak.fbcdn.net/hphotos-ak-snc1/hs023.snc1/2563_77612805378_623750378_2760202_4800990_n.jpg" alt="" border="0" /></a><br /><br /><br /><br />I'm not supposed to be complaining much right now so I can't really whine about his clothes not fitting, but that's still going on, too. He's not rolling over yet - he hasn't taken it on as a project. He'll get kind of close but its just by accident. I think when he figures out he wants to roll over, he'll be able to do it pretty quick. His hands are a lot busier these days - they can find eachother so he spends lots of time holding hands with himself. And he can purposely steer his hands to his mouth, which makes him happy too because he can gnaw on them and drool all over the place. We've been calling him Monty Burns because he likes to clasp his hands together and hunch over them.<br /><br />Last month I thought he was a champion burper, now he's honed that skill to become a champion puker. I wonder sometimes why he even bothers eating if he's just going to spit it all up whenever he's vertical. I'm giving up on ever having a clean shirt, or ever having him in a clean shirt, because he's now become quite skillful at throwing up on himself. His timing is impeccable, I am not exaggerating at all when I say he will spit up on a new outfit before I even have a chance to do up the last button or snap. It's like he can't stand to wear anything unless he spits up on it first. I still think he generally smells okay but I am not sure anyone else would agree.<br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://photos-a.ak.fbcdn.net/hphotos-ak-snc1/hs023.snc1/2563_77612220378_623750378_2760144_5285931_n.jpg"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 604px; height: 403px;" src="http://photos-a.ak.fbcdn.net/hphotos-ak-snc1/hs023.snc1/2563_77612220378_623750378_2760144_5285931_n.jpg" alt="" border="0" /></a><br /><br /><br />His eyes are looking less blue. At this point I will be pretty surprised if he ends up with blue eyes. They're certainly not brown yet, but they have that muddy color that Annique had. A few weeks ago in certain light they were so blue that I couldn't believe they'd ever turn brown. But now - they're muddy no matter what he's wearing or where he is. His hair, on the other hand - looking blonder every day. He's getting some long, fine hair that I suppose has been on his head since he was born, and since that was 3 months ago - its just getting pretty long now. Then he's rubbed off a spot on the back of his head - the usual baby-bald spot. That makes me kind of sad because the back of his head was so cute with hair on it. I know it will grow back eventually.cheribearhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10454127394682222434noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-38225837.post-86095835084505031742009-02-25T21:26:00.000-08:002009-02-25T22:25:09.353-08:00today's soundtrackSo, today I turn on the news and hear that Steven Page, the front man for the Barenaked Ladies, is calling it quits, and going solo or something like that. And I'm kind of sad about that because I've become a particular fan of theirs in the past 6 months or so. It all started when we went shopping for a CD in August - Serge bought Bob Dylan's greatest hits, and since there was a 2 for something sale, I picked up this one:<br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://www.nettwerk.com/images/cover/BarLa.Sna4919.jpg"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 220px; height: 220px;" src="http://www.nettwerk.com/images/cover/BarLa.Sna4919.jpg" alt="" border="0" /></a><br />I've really enjoyed my kids' music up to this point. They listen to a lot of our music, and I'm careful when picking music that's for them. You won't see me throwing in Barney's greatest hits or anything like that. Heaven forbid they decide they like it. I won't buy them any music unless I'm sure I can put up with it. I used to be embarrassed to say I enjoy it - but the more I hear it, the more it reminds me of my kids, and the more I know I'll look back on the times when we drove all over everywhere with music on blast in the van, and I'll remember those songs fondly. It started out with Baby Mozart when they were little, moved on to Carmen Campagne, the Wiggles, and Fred Penner. Even after hearing some of those songs one bazillion times - I still kind of like them. I can't not love Rockabye your bear. I can't not smile when I hear Quack-quack-quack-cock-a-doodle doo. But, time marches on and the big girls are too big for the Wiggles, for sure. Yet, I'm not ready to commit to High School Musical and Hannah Montana, either. We needed a new something we can all agree on. I've always liked the Barenaked Ladies, and I can see how their style and sound could appeal to kids - so I picked it up.<br /><br />That was August, and its been a lot of months from then until now, and Snack Time continues to grow on me. Pollywog in a Bog is by far our favorite, and even when I was 8 months pregnant and waking up at 3 and 5 and 6 am to go pee, and in the early morning fog, my head was singing "Ribbit, ribbit, a tadpole exhibit, its a transformation no one can inhibit" - it was still okay. I didn't tire of it. I still didn't cringe when Annique yelled for "lil' pog" for the tenth time in a row.<br /><br /><object width="425" height="344"><param name="movie" value="http://www.youtube.com/v/N_Wx35sNqdM&hl=en&fs=1"><param name="allowFullScreen" value="true"><param name="allowscriptaccess" value="always"><embed src="http://www.youtube.com/v/N_Wx35sNqdM&hl=en&fs=1" type="application/x-shockwave-flash" allowscriptaccess="always" allowfullscreen="true" width="425" height="344"></embed></object><br /><br /><div style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-style: italic;">I'm providing this video so that you, too can have "lil'pog" playing in your head at 3 am.<br />Don't thank me now.</span><br /></div><br />Its good stuff for kids, lots of big, interesting words, great topics, fun sounds, and they're getting smart, learning about the life cycle of a frog, and all. Who cares that there are songs about deadly and unspeakably violent ninjas? If I cared about that, I'd probably care that the band is called Barenaked ladies (giggle, giggle - I told them that) and the lead singer is up on drug charges for cocaine possession or something (yikes! I didn't tell them that!) - and I don't, because this is good stuff for my kids. We like being the Partridge family with music blaring out of the van while it rolls down the highway.<br /><br />Anyway, with today's announcement - there goes all hopes that I'll get to take the kids to see them live - we've seen the Wiggles, Fred Penner and Carmen Campagne. And also, any hopes for a follow up to their brilliant Snack-time album. I am sure 20 years ago they never thought they'd be writing children's music, and doing such a damned brilliant job of it. Because if they did, they probably wouldn't have called themselves the Barenaked Ladies. I wonder what my kids will think of "If I had $1,000,000?" - I guess there are still a lot of BNL songs out there that are old to me but will be new to them. We'll cope.cheribearhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10454127394682222434noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-38225837.post-37225911451643712322009-02-07T22:14:00.000-08:002009-02-24T20:47:11.173-08:00baby at 2 monthsDimensions:<br />I have no idea of his height/weight size, but he wears a size 1 diaper and has grown out of all his newborn clothes, of course you know that because I already whined about it a few posts ago. He's wearing 0-3 month clothes which don't have much extra room, and starting to fit into some 3-6 month stuff quite nicely. All I have to say about that is, when he's 5-6 months old, those things still better fit him.<br /><br /><br />Coordination:<br />Already more coordinated than his mother. Excellent. He can grasp things with his hands and his hands like to go in his mouth, of course. He hangs on to my clothes when I'm carrying him around the house - I keep forgetting when I try to put him down somewhere that he may still be attached with a fistful of my shirt or something.<br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiX5_sjIG50SlYt8z9BMZT8hM0RGV55uGJD3Aomnqoxb2_DbxBMgs9hn0DUOmzF0ygeQNSeHRBMZZ8a_CoOoGO0ViYdIlTxQvf0iV4nXNnd_zHH7KmEzAkwmtk4qRiQWeOIC9LFXw/s1600-h/20090211_1372.JPG"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 267px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiX5_sjIG50SlYt8z9BMZT8hM0RGV55uGJD3Aomnqoxb2_DbxBMgs9hn0DUOmzF0ygeQNSeHRBMZZ8a_CoOoGO0ViYdIlTxQvf0iV4nXNnd_zHH7KmEzAkwmtk4qRiQWeOIC9LFXw/s400/20090211_1372.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5306591281126852530" border="0" /></a><br /><br />Strength:<br />He's still very pushy - doesn't like to rest his head anywhere unless he's sleepy, otherwise he pushes as far back as he can to allow for the maximum view of the world around him. He still has three sisters to keep track of, and it's a lot of work.<br /><br />Attitude:<br />What a smiley little guy we have - it doesn't take much to get him to smile, and he's making a few of those 'goo' noises that only little babies can make and still sound smart. That doesn't stop me from making 'goo' noises at him to see if he'll copy me - hopefully nobody's listening.<br /><br />Sleeping:<br />All anyone really cares about is how well he's sleeping, right? Well, at night - not so bad. He dozes off at around 9-10 pm I guess, and I lay him down on the couch because he'll freak out on any truly flat surface, like his playpen - then I'd have to pick him up and rock him again and spend another half hour getting him to sleep. So I put him on the couch and wrap him up good and tight so he thinks he's still being held, and he usually sleeps until about 1:30 - then I bring him to bed and feed him and he'll sleep until 4:30 at best, sometimes right until 6:30. Not a bad stretch. Then he gets annoying, waking up at least every hour until the girls get up at 8:00. He will always wake up between 7:24 and 7:27 every. single. morning. just to make sure he gets fed one more time before the morning rush.<br /><br />Special Talents:<br />-Burping. He's a champ. With the girls, I would start the first month or so pounding on their backs like moms do after every feeding, and usually - nothing. Now and then they'd give up a little burp or a huge one, or spit up all over the place. Evan will always have a huge, satisfying burp, and if you have a burp cloth handy, it will probably be dry. If you don't, he'll spit up all over the place. He's especially talented at spitting up on everyone and everything but himself. In a day, he can create a huge pile of laundry - blankets, my clothes, burp cloths, towels, etc. - but he'll still be in the same outfit.<br /><br />-He's also quite good at throwing up into his ears.<br /><br />-He has an altitude sensor, knows without opening an eye if he's being put down.<br /><br />-Being cute. He's pretty good at that, too.cheribearhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10454127394682222434noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-38225837.post-43780117841362560122009-01-25T21:55:00.001-08:002009-02-03T23:29:52.692-08:00games parents play<div style="text-align: center;"><br /></div>When I was pregnant, I thought I missed drinking. Not that I've been much of a party animal these past few years - okay, for about a decade - but whatever. When you can't drink for 9 months, you kind of look forward to cutting loose again.<br /><br />In the past few weeks I've said a number of times that I'd like to sit down with a bottle of wine or a case of beer and just get drunk - and so far nobody has taken me up on the offer. Did they think I was joking? Or, maybe I was just fooling myself because with Christmas and kids at home for the holidays and a new baby and all of that - there wasn't really a good opportunity. But goodness knows with these -40 temperatures being trapped in the house with four kids for days and weeks on end could drive anyone to drink.<br /><br />But this week - an opportunity. A good solid excuse to have a drink or twelve. My sister-in-law turned 30. Right in the middle of the week - my husband is home because he works the next day, the kids are all in bed by 8, why the heck not put on my snow boots and my winter coat and pack a bottle of wine in the diaper bag and my baby in the Snugli and walk right across the backyard to her house, and have a few drinks? Why NOT? So, I did.<br /><br />It was a successful night of drinking - I drank some beer and a whole bottle of wine and didn't get home until four in the morning. The baby is usually up around 4 so it didn't seem to disrupt his schedule at all, but I can tell you I wasn't feeling fine when the alarm went off at 8. I managed to get the kids up and off to school and a pot of coffee made to avoid a hangover.<br /><br />So the weekend rolls around and we decide that since nobody was hung over, maybe that was just a warm-up, and we should try to have a proper birthday celebration. One where the adults significantly outnumber the babies, maybe. So yesterday afternoon we remembered how to make Jell-o shooters and bought a case of beer and a bottle of wine, and dusted off the old game of Pass-Out. We invited my sister and brother in law over to our house, and attempted to play.<br /><br /><div style="text-align: center;"><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi3K1UvAm6hkrp8pz4osfZS2q4NdvU_ji5UY3wL10wbSVUKWRAd4uoTDGwli8jBQW_vWFpN-GRKgC8U79tTlHoBJiWfVf0HXhLgUgXLAjrBGCXDSn5jI3ZxTvfOTeEtkiELfU3REg/s1600-h/20081225_1214.JPG"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 300px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi3K1UvAm6hkrp8pz4osfZS2q4NdvU_ji5UY3wL10wbSVUKWRAd4uoTDGwli8jBQW_vWFpN-GRKgC8U79tTlHoBJiWfVf0HXhLgUgXLAjrBGCXDSn5jI3ZxTvfOTeEtkiELfU3REg/s400/20081225_1214.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5295484714573704802" border="0" /></a><span style="font-style: italic;">FINALLY, a game that FORBIDS me to play with my children</span>!!<br /></div><div style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-style: italic;">NOT intended for use with alcoholic beverages? How fun would that be?</span><br /></div><br />When I was in University, I had the most awesome roommate. She arrived on a train from Ontario in the middle of the night, with a giant blue trunk full of clothes and a game of Pass-Out. On any given weekend night - and maybe sometimes on weekdays, we'd bring out the game and get a case of beer or and by the time we'd traveled around the board a time or two - we were feeling pretty darned good. Of course, that was usually just to get primed up to go out to a party or bar somewhere and have an actual good time. But when you're over 30 with kids and minimal opportunities to drink, let alone leave the house - the game IS the good time.<br /><br /><br /><div style="text-align: center;"><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhYQmEe2ZexPQZNf4ua5LRaIonOBW627SStlBGfeOO_KutOr0PzvXPSpmqzeqtcQz9Q1yFKAeboTtDs9oC_pavzXuSHv-BjkOWG0OyoCtAcVj5el5N5b4BGat1DIaZePQRnb-09zg/s1600-h/20081225_1218.JPG"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 300px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhYQmEe2ZexPQZNf4ua5LRaIonOBW627SStlBGfeOO_KutOr0PzvXPSpmqzeqtcQz9Q1yFKAeboTtDs9oC_pavzXuSHv-BjkOWG0OyoCtAcVj5el5N5b4BGat1DIaZePQRnb-09zg/s400/20081225_1218.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5295483955495525810" border="0" /></a><span style="font-style: italic;">a few cans of beer and a mighty stack of empty jello shooters</span><br /></div><br />Anyway - we finished off the Jello shooters, made a few trips around the board, finished the beer, moved on to the wine - laughed, cried, massacred tongue-twisters, started forgetting whose turn it was, or what direction we were playing in - and then realized morning was going to come to early for all of us, and the sitter needed to get home, so we shut it down just after midnight. It was fun, we'll have to do it again sometime - but its just soooo much work to have that much fun. So tired.cheribearhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10454127394682222434noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-38225837.post-53171561986201583232009-01-19T23:16:00.000-08:002009-01-19T23:34:24.178-08:00The sad truth about baby clothesSo I'm doing laundry again (still?) today and of course, I have to put some more of the baby's newborn clothes away because he's grown out of them. That is the tragedy of newborn baby clothes, they make them so cute but they have such a short life cycle, rarely surviving for three wearings. It goes something like this:<br /><br />Wearing 1 - the outfit doesn't quite fit, though it looks about the right size, when you put it on and the baby kicks, his legs get lost and jammed up in the pant legs somehow and you're forever straightening them so the feet stay in the feet-parts.<br /><br />Wearing 2 - the outfit fits perfectly! WOOOO HOOO! Within three seconds, the baby will spit up all over the outfit, and you'll have to change him and put it back in the wash.<br /><br />Wearing 3 - the outfit appears to fit perfectly, until the baby stretches his legs and you notice he can't straighten them completely because it tightens up around the neck and his toes are absolutely crammed into the feet. And you think, he's a baby, how often is he stretched out anyway? He can keep his knees bent! But after three different people say "oh, looks like this outfit is getting a little small!" you realize you're just fooling yourself.<br /><br />With that, I'm packing away some of my favorite little baby boy clothes, and it's breaking my heart. The only consolation is bringing out some of the equally cute 3-6 month stuff that is starting to fit him, even though he's just barely a month and a half old by my count. Hopefully he gets a few more wearings out of those ones.<br /><br />It's undeniable, he's growing. But the trade off is he's smiling, and paying attention to things around him, and he's learning to bat at his toys and grab things to shove in his mouth, he's making interesting noises and attempting to mirror our facial expressions. I just love to see him learning to do stuff like that.cheribearhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10454127394682222434noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-38225837.post-35739998990906320662009-01-11T22:25:00.000-08:002009-01-20T00:15:55.713-08:00Baby at one month old<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgOBas8G_xeMZnthYz_dYYGHhU0Z_fdoxEGAdQZxoimAifa4w38bkcPSA-2_EDjy-ejj9OJvpAMGTQufXVBe_A5qAulr88zlN2tstg4piWTcCx26cnH3PuafDuTLXQ5AQDcK8npgQ/s1600-h/20090108_0884.JPG"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 267px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgOBas8G_xeMZnthYz_dYYGHhU0Z_fdoxEGAdQZxoimAifa4w38bkcPSA-2_EDjy-ejj9OJvpAMGTQufXVBe_A5qAulr88zlN2tstg4piWTcCx26cnH3PuafDuTLXQ5AQDcK8npgQ/s400/20090108_0884.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5291776154247767314" border="0" /></a><br />I can't believe he's a month old - well, almost 5 weeks by now I guess. Seems like only yesterday we brought him home from the hospital, and right away it felt like he's always been here - you'd think the girls always had a baby brother.<br /><br /><div style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-weight: bold;">First days</span><br /></div><div style="text-align: center;"><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhxr3j0wp_u7cBPsW-3AT6ec3K5v_gWCEP8Is7J_Ay4ljTGAcFU4EeW0Ci6UfkgSkiDoJh8l78cpAgxJQRiKxKA8tIpvppTqqTUkTFfj1L7FLAhV4cUGOkA7o4GN011y5zeAPU4tA/s1600-h/20080427_0364.JPG"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 300px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhxr3j0wp_u7cBPsW-3AT6ec3K5v_gWCEP8Is7J_Ay4ljTGAcFU4EeW0Ci6UfkgSkiDoJh8l78cpAgxJQRiKxKA8tIpvppTqqTUkTFfj1L7FLAhV4cUGOkA7o4GN011y5zeAPU4tA/s400/20080427_0364.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5289928583904645122" border="0" /></a><span style="font-style: italic;">Bringing home baby - he slept for the 2 hour drive</span><br /><br /><br /><div style="text-align: center;"><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi_Ru9lyHur7F2l8ndWo2SuDhv89d_8wWWPCbmx2cTVjzaDIyZTb-r7FC4FnQfcfLSlHYyDCvu08io6-ktS9Gv5u5_0uhISFiHcAMXC4YE6MxVELZlvmRbA9-Zpuf8ntObNiqngKw/s1600-h/20080428_0394.JPG"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 300px; height: 400px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi_Ru9lyHur7F2l8ndWo2SuDhv89d_8wWWPCbmx2cTVjzaDIyZTb-r7FC4FnQfcfLSlHYyDCvu08io6-ktS9Gv5u5_0uhISFiHcAMXC4YE6MxVELZlvmRbA9-Zpuf8ntObNiqngKw/s400/20080428_0394.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5289929014070133298" border="0" /></a><span style="font-style: italic;">the girls couldn't wait to meet him</span><br /></div><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi7ouKlbcfACSVi-o6UFWZcmVNSHLOO8tqBgOjvg_nZwqZPCsMzcRb7jeOje9t7OdGdBUGrYkMRALLfXhyphenhyphen59ZPP0SVzO1VwzCzHyUW_Xh7k6GITVu-a51jzTw0eQzGJeOLwBG7iuw/s1600-h/20080428_0415.JPG"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 300px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi7ouKlbcfACSVi-o6UFWZcmVNSHLOO8tqBgOjvg_nZwqZPCsMzcRb7jeOje9t7OdGdBUGrYkMRALLfXhyphenhyphen59ZPP0SVzO1VwzCzHyUW_Xh7k6GITVu-a51jzTw0eQzGJeOLwBG7iuw/s400/20080428_0415.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5289929459668280370" border="0" /></a><span style="font-style: italic;">When you're sure you're going to keep something,</span><br /><span style="font-style: italic;">you can cut the tags off</span> - <span style="font-style: italic;">so we did</span>!<br /></div><br /><div style="text-align: center;"><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg7KNKsahEFFCtJdUW8rifs6iPjc3pEftbPpzwddE1oaLDACP4SnjvSIwBRMNIucwMlAObVLTzNwMLrE6r81OkmeiFzHcHyDIY_FPyrQCIUT2w7_2d0bzU-tBnEXs5OatVAYAD9ug/s1600-h/20081120_0690.JPG"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 300px; height: 400px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg7KNKsahEFFCtJdUW8rifs6iPjc3pEftbPpzwddE1oaLDACP4SnjvSIwBRMNIucwMlAObVLTzNwMLrE6r81OkmeiFzHcHyDIY_FPyrQCIUT2w7_2d0bzU-tBnEXs5OatVAYAD9ug/s400/20081120_0690.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5291787473654766754" border="0" /></a><span style="font-style: italic;">hanging out with Cecily</span><br /></div><br />People often ask if its different having a boy - after three girls, I would haved guessed it is. Parts of him are different, that is for sure. But he hasn't peed on me or at me even once yet, which was the difference that concerned me most going into this. I've noticed he likes to be dirty and stinky more than the girls ever did. He'll often drift off to sleep happily 2 seconds after filling a diaper and would happily stay that way forever if I'd let him. Otherwise, he's quite a bit like any other of my babies - he just has a different wardrobe.<br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgeJF6R9E1v1VxDBiq0eHwtoSU3C5E-dGVMHs4D6CBSFZr9SU27UFXLe9VWkxQI-0GXQKQ-c1IkqI00PxfjkXSuK5eincFBqBwa9KczjbuNzug43Y8Jurna02TvTigE0Nq_bRRboQ/s1600-h/20081129_0812.JPG"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 300px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgeJF6R9E1v1VxDBiq0eHwtoSU3C5E-dGVMHs4D6CBSFZr9SU27UFXLe9VWkxQI-0GXQKQ-c1IkqI00PxfjkXSuK5eincFBqBwa9KczjbuNzug43Y8Jurna02TvTigE0Nq_bRRboQ/s400/20081129_0812.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5290291995250811570" border="0" /></a>People see him and say he's getting so big and he's changed so much. That kind of makes me sad because he just got here and he's already growing up too fast. I don't notice as much because I am with him all the time - and when you're literally watching someone grow, you don't see it happening. I just know whenever I get another load of laundry out of the wash that some of his little clothes won't fit him by the next load of wash. I hate that because he has cute clothes and it seems like such a waste to put them away already.<br /><br /><div style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-weight: bold;">Growing</span><br /></div> <div style="text-align: center;"><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi-rJlfciTziNENt9Lmvd2iBXJDm9OdxDWGYX3GGvS1r9RHr1LWorM0wEEZQwNqpfr9HZ4wvmO0SWixxJ9H6fjqWED1Pe6RQP5QIdN8FyFAag7QuEgixnCCkG_3sjMoje5j0sagAQ/s1600-h/20081127_0804.JPG"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 300px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi-rJlfciTziNENt9Lmvd2iBXJDm9OdxDWGYX3GGvS1r9RHr1LWorM0wEEZQwNqpfr9HZ4wvmO0SWixxJ9H6fjqWED1Pe6RQP5QIdN8FyFAag7QuEgixnCCkG_3sjMoje5j0sagAQ/s400/20081127_0804.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5290290820752577874" border="0" /></a><span style="font-style: italic;">Seems like he's getting so big, until you put him beside his cousin<br />who is only two months older - they grow SO fast.<br /></span></div><br />I know for sure that at 2 weeks old (Christmas Eve) he was already over 9 pounds, which is pretty good for a little guy who was less than eight pounds when we left the hospital. He's so alert, and curious about everything - when he's awake he's always looking around. He's getting used to having his sisters in his face all the time, and having his head constantly patted and kissed. He doesn't always break their hearts anymore by crying as soon as they try to hold him - he's getting used to that feeling like he could be dropped at any second and will actually let the bigger girls hold him for quite awhile and I can get a few things done.<br /><br /><div style="text-align: center;"><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgo0AthEsHumt7PDLm8m3vg-mtAjV3YkYlMia58letlL_CCWrs7Tffw9C8o5YBoWmjECaq-e1DyyM4Gp2-D3qMG2TgrsBQJipHmwQkTCnUwsGWL31ZOSn8l-CJAOrH608ZECZuzow/s1600-h/20081210_0536.JPG"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 267px; height: 400px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgo0AthEsHumt7PDLm8m3vg-mtAjV3YkYlMia58letlL_CCWrs7Tffw9C8o5YBoWmjECaq-e1DyyM4Gp2-D3qMG2TgrsBQJipHmwQkTCnUwsGWL31ZOSn8l-CJAOrH608ZECZuzow/s400/20081210_0536.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5293283531391512546" border="0" /></a><span style="font-style: italic;">heartbreakingly sad baby</span><br /><br /></div>Since the day he was born he's known how to make his bottom lip shiver so that he looks completely heartbroken. He started doing that whenever we got near him with a cold, wet wipe at a diaper change (and who can blame him?) and it was everything I could to do keep from running out and buying a wipes-warmer for him. The only thing holding me back was the knowledge that he's a winter baby, in Manitoba - and at some point for sure I'm going to have to use wipes that are practically frozen after being left in the van. And I think that could probably kill a child who is used to a pre-warmed wipe on his most sensitive parts. I used soft washcloths and warm water for the first week or two of his life, until he gradually got used to the shock of the wet wipes. Poor little guy.<br /><br />He's so strong already, from the beginning he was pushing against us when we held him and it wasn't too long - maybe two weeks, before he was able to get his head back far enough to look up and around.<br /><br /><div style="text-align: center;"><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgISDmsXu-y0c9mO7MKF6NQpPYehy7aKOwQbCIpk6B0oC0F-X7m6yIO3AnZlO-Vw4CkQ0h_Q6sJXm2Aw-qFNSV29dn2U87MnOKreGDOhKz1LPuKx8N6zVTzQcxUgsMlF3YZOgheRw/s1600-h/20080505_0643.JPG"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 300px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgISDmsXu-y0c9mO7MKF6NQpPYehy7aKOwQbCIpk6B0oC0F-X7m6yIO3AnZlO-Vw4CkQ0h_Q6sJXm2Aw-qFNSV29dn2U87MnOKreGDOhKz1LPuKx8N6zVTzQcxUgsMlF3YZOgheRw/s400/20080505_0643.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5291785884006193298" border="0" /></a><br /><span style="font-style: italic;">hi Dad!<br /></span></div><br /><div style="text-align: center; font-style: italic;"><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhNr9nZi939tQXOFZJ4KQrVOZw3NRGdMx70TDGIDaK7rJu-f_V_JXG60GHwJgo0Tu8ysj8oZIkU8BL5CdYq9P9P7XPytWWWTddZCtyWPZ_OBUrUbhAtrxQi8NXknroL6UGLLRMU3Q/s1600-h/20081226_1025.JPG"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 300px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhNr9nZi939tQXOFZJ4KQrVOZw3NRGdMx70TDGIDaK7rJu-f_V_JXG60GHwJgo0Tu8ysj8oZIkU8BL5CdYq9P9P7XPytWWWTddZCtyWPZ_OBUrUbhAtrxQi8NXknroL6UGLLRMU3Q/s400/20081226_1025.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5291781240780739922" border="0" /><span style="font-style: italic;"></span></a>Christmas day - 2 weeks old<br /><br /></div>By Christmas he was holding his head up really well when he was on his tummy, and now he can't stand having his head tucked in at all unless he wants to sleep - he pushes his whole back away so he can look around at everything around him. With three older sisters around, I think he's going to snap his neck trying to keep track of all of them. Annique especially has a habit of being up in his face and then disappearing in the blink of an eye, and he will twist his neck around trying to see where she went.<br /><br /><div style="text-align: center;"><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjX_pTsbFJVwx67HRPSgs1FNjkaQcw2AURfSDXq-cfhnzcqZ9sb_cG3hML_Lp3jY0HaV54PPhTOwBdsE2rTxUSW_5T8EOMTJYYrxndnazgm3IxxCZhlcDhN-x7N2wzSJDb-5y8W-g/s1600-h/20090108_0989.JPG"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 267px; height: 400px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjX_pTsbFJVwx67HRPSgs1FNjkaQcw2AURfSDXq-cfhnzcqZ9sb_cG3hML_Lp3jY0HaV54PPhTOwBdsE2rTxUSW_5T8EOMTJYYrxndnazgm3IxxCZhlcDhN-x7N2wzSJDb-5y8W-g/s400/20090108_0989.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5291776451852918178" border="0" /></a><span style="font-style: italic;">Where'd she go??</span><br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjyGBJ6WpoMXFMw0_tQs5FIJmsyirbgLCRFWKTB-sSkfFTW99rXYGYWdqZiEne_3U18VglPNpiMBIJErLq43w6Z3Wo_CSRAumrTr8uXHbffUxm56O23MxGXwX5xIp0jwXwA0FKFgQ/s1600-h/20081214_1119.JPG"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 300px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjyGBJ6WpoMXFMw0_tQs5FIJmsyirbgLCRFWKTB-sSkfFTW99rXYGYWdqZiEne_3U18VglPNpiMBIJErLq43w6Z3Wo_CSRAumrTr8uXHbffUxm56O23MxGXwX5xIp0jwXwA0FKFgQ/s400/20081214_1119.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5291785113587486146" border="0" /></a><span style="font-style: italic;"> smiling at his sisters</span><br /></div><br />Also thrilling for his sisters, he's starting to smile at them a little bit. Annique is constantly reporting on his status when they're hanging out - Baby happy, baby smiling, baby CRYING, mom baby NOT HAPPY!! MOOOOMMM!! BABY CRYING! Yes, I know. I can hear him. But she just wants me to know. Sometimes I can't get to him right away and sometimes I don't get there on purpose because I love seeing how she handles the situation - if he's in the bouncer, she bounces him gently. Sometimes she pats his head or back, or sings to him softly or tries to shove a pacifier in his mouth. Sometimes it works, and she announces "BABY HAPPY NOW MOM!"<br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiwuCx4NiMiPl-S4WOElTgqAt3C0zPo_PGvCSYDaEoNxS99C360KGexEHWgM7eFEyvJwqKSPRcXDG6iPFLiO8UhZmx_j2vnuWWjG6k7x_vfdlZhPrsrTlDvza2Jzvo1XotRmtRHvQ/s1600-h/20081220_0962.JPG"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 267px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiwuCx4NiMiPl-S4WOElTgqAt3C0zPo_PGvCSYDaEoNxS99C360KGexEHWgM7eFEyvJwqKSPRcXDG6iPFLiO8UhZmx_j2vnuWWjG6k7x_vfdlZhPrsrTlDvza2Jzvo1XotRmtRHvQ/s400/20081220_0962.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5293281136624587474" border="0" /></a><br />Annique loves being the big sister when she's always been the little sister - she likes that her big sisters are gone at school all day, and now she figures she's the one in charge. When they get home, she meets them at the door to remind them to be quiet when he's sleeping. I had some worries about her being jealous but she's just been thrilled with him right from the start. It seems the older girls are actually having a bit more trouble - they remind me now and then that I am always holding the baby and anything that doesn't get done is blamed on him. Like, I didn't cut their toenails, because I am *always* holding the baby. Fortunately with Christmas holidays and a few bad weather days - they've been able to spend a lot of time at home and I can spend more of my time with them that way. And cut their toenails, of course. And put nail polish on them for good measure.<br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><div style="text-align: center;"><br /><br /><br /><br /></div>cheribearhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10454127394682222434noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-38225837.post-78643178633293458062009-01-10T22:27:00.000-08:002009-01-19T23:48:07.908-08:00there goes DecemberIt's been a busy couple of weeks for our family - and Evan's already a month old. Where does the time go? December is always crazy like this but with a new baby I always want to slow down time just a little and stay at home - but there's no such luck with Christmas around the corner!<br /><br /><div style="text-align: center;"><br /><div style="text-align: left;">There was lots of rushing around the week or so before Christmas - the kids had their Christmas concert at school, the wind-up for their dance class and annual Santa day. The temperature dropped to -40 some days and the last thing I wanted to do was haul my new baby around town - but you can't miss this stuff! My greatest fear was that school would be canceled and I'd have all four kids home on a weekday before I'm ready - and of course that happened, too. Twice.<br /><div style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-weight: bold;"><br />December 2008</span><br /></div><br /></div></div><div style="text-align: center;"><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg0vIfMaT4JsIi4L9xf-7l-ihSNWQZKdYdw4baOJP_Qg_X5600LbjrNMpLdzmEHNuQGG0ff2Rgo-EboOC6bJNYd1VhnZ72UeQHQ8D8FOgEcpX-CKNgU0iem6B4jt5MA-sRF6YajBw/s1600-h/20080429_0433.JPG"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 300px; height: 400px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg0vIfMaT4JsIi4L9xf-7l-ihSNWQZKdYdw4baOJP_Qg_X5600LbjrNMpLdzmEHNuQGG0ff2Rgo-EboOC6bJNYd1VhnZ72UeQHQ8D8FOgEcpX-CKNgU0iem6B4jt5MA-sRF6YajBw/s400/20080429_0433.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5289925225768449922" border="0" /></a><span style="font-style: italic;">Decorating the Christmas tree<br /></span></div><object width="425" height="344"><param name="movie" value="http://www.youtube.com/v/ryBKrHX32f4&hl=en&fs=1"></object><div style="text-align: center;"><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhE2P8WTYdPFYVaSLEIvTpyATs341BhDlDCRayQV98zmHBkjEItzZ2SDdt-xX1Q42n42kGwAKSUaOSrB6eXGWCY-pGsRvB8JUTVddSp9S45VOUZwzi4vtlD_oOly9gWeBThws6okg/s1600-h/annique+santa+2.jpg"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 267px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhE2P8WTYdPFYVaSLEIvTpyATs341BhDlDCRayQV98zmHBkjEItzZ2SDdt-xX1Q42n42kGwAKSUaOSrB6eXGWCY-pGsRvB8JUTVddSp9S45VOUZwzi4vtlD_oOly9gWeBThws6okg/s400/annique+santa+2.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5289922568663100514" border="0" /></a><span style="font-style: italic;">Santa day!<br /></span><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjeaqeP5aqQG_PnZuZn8ggtI6ll8dxs9W6N_DNeI-leWl3CM0xLU7TT4UyD5QUlIZk7LZuR9TZ_E2oyFPKzMWPCRPfbkrecvHpnGoAYD_tO-g0PTfnXvo9F2F17RnObHMbe596kqw/s1600-h/20081121_0703.JPG"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 300px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjeaqeP5aqQG_PnZuZn8ggtI6ll8dxs9W6N_DNeI-leWl3CM0xLU7TT4UyD5QUlIZk7LZuR9TZ_E2oyFPKzMWPCRPfbkrecvHpnGoAYD_tO-g0PTfnXvo9F2F17RnObHMbe596kqw/s400/20081121_0703.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5289931876108746370" border="0" /></a><span style="font-style: italic;">Christmas concert</span><br /></div><object width="425" height="344"><param name="movie" value="http://www.youtube.com/v/ryBKrHX32f4&hl=en&fs=1"></object><br /><div style="text-align: center;"><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiXy8RZdxPulG_qXPThASkuSbqYXuagXyI3tJS0VgF7il8FSJZ7G9wvlEV9w4PO-dLQkHW_gCGDGZ5NaPIwTLT25o-b5V38zItjS_4PiD4HluwYg3ZWDeaE-eL20AyqxXL9OUj4rQ/s1600-h/20081213_0586.JPG"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 267px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiXy8RZdxPulG_qXPThASkuSbqYXuagXyI3tJS0VgF7il8FSJZ7G9wvlEV9w4PO-dLQkHW_gCGDGZ5NaPIwTLT25o-b5V38zItjS_4PiD4HluwYg3ZWDeaE-eL20AyqxXL9OUj4rQ/s400/20081213_0586.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5289933024532107058" border="0" /></a><br /><span style="font-style: italic;">Writing letters to Santa<br /><br /></span><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg4HskUKoRpuxopN4V6MJARi5AgLplYH4OhyphenhyphenRA21cjjKe2R5JmTlYJ87ym6fykpOKSpDtbBbFEpU6_yNNwFdM1ia7tQ6olMyGBehvXap0zSDEuCgj3PYMN_2rAwS2G-ccOYQXv4Tw/s1600-h/20081224_0965.JPG"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 267px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg4HskUKoRpuxopN4V6MJARi5AgLplYH4OhyphenhyphenRA21cjjKe2R5JmTlYJ87ym6fykpOKSpDtbBbFEpU6_yNNwFdM1ia7tQ6olMyGBehvXap0zSDEuCgj3PYMN_2rAwS2G-ccOYQXv4Tw/s400/20081224_0965.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5289933883959596978" border="0" /></a><span style="font-style: italic;">Baking cookies for Santa</span><br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjctgcUSUxsyXUqvJ5UjzV_XUxiA6QW2ksA2wTk6ZStHZBqQm1AhFwDwUXkoS6mAGXKIGYPh8UY13t-C5VIBdxzzq-06NlNrxRdeFapPjdF5mExu26lWIBomHBCpR5pkGzX7pOvqA/s1600-h/20081124_0718.JPG"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 300px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjctgcUSUxsyXUqvJ5UjzV_XUxiA6QW2ksA2wTk6ZStHZBqQm1AhFwDwUXkoS6mAGXKIGYPh8UY13t-C5VIBdxzzq-06NlNrxRdeFapPjdF5mExu26lWIBomHBCpR5pkGzX7pOvqA/s400/20081124_0718.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5289936447777227730" border="0" /></a><span style="font-style: italic;">Reading the Christmas Story by the tree on Christmas eve</span><br /><br /><span style="font-weight: bold;">Christmas Day</span><br /><div style="text-align: left;">Getting to Christmas was pretty hectic, but Christmas itself was pretty quiet. We didn't go anywhere -Christmas came to our house and didn't stay overnight, so it was just perfect. We opened presents and visited with family all day, I cooked a turkey and my mom and sister did everything else for supper - I relaxed, held my baby and sipped coffee most of the day.<br /></div><br /><div style="text-align: left;"><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgduJCymvLK36H9rqF3D1DD-0_ZEIrifcuSAFxIHjcCK0j_Qt4s5xsXnnCIVUx68otOGp3ynK7E0L3F2iJ4hwwIgkY_75BDvLkQQdmhxXh8rf78I6mXaf5kqHRRqlRHswFipknarQ/s1600-h/20081126_0786.JPG"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 300px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgduJCymvLK36H9rqF3D1DD-0_ZEIrifcuSAFxIHjcCK0j_Qt4s5xsXnnCIVUx68otOGp3ynK7E0L3F2iJ4hwwIgkY_75BDvLkQQdmhxXh8rf78I6mXaf5kqHRRqlRHswFipknarQ/s400/20081126_0786.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5291403527378100306" border="0" /></a><br />This is Annique's crazy spiral train set at a brief moment where it is staying together and Annique is not shrieking because its not broken. It only breaks apart if you drive a train over the spiral part. Or walk anywhere within fifty feet of it. We finally resorted to duct tape. Thanks, Santa for the spiral train. We love the spiral train! Next year, Annique would like something sturdier, like maybe a house of cards.<br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhv9CRcwOhc0Kcuj3Cb0Q9SWVefFSbAK_AdRnfLdG42db29oZcBjrE5MJyBQp31Q1Sww1IRwv8pJjGLk4CbATyNf7rYoq_0K9Tqvv3B2j6wjc-85l6_X5jCAmzRGLaSK64ZmzaeyA/s1600-h/20081125_0747.JPG"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 300px; height: 400px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhv9CRcwOhc0Kcuj3Cb0Q9SWVefFSbAK_AdRnfLdG42db29oZcBjrE5MJyBQp31Q1Sww1IRwv8pJjGLk4CbATyNf7rYoq_0K9Tqvv3B2j6wjc-85l6_X5jCAmzRGLaSK64ZmzaeyA/s400/20081125_0747.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5291400741974921666" border="0" /></a>Madeleine got a little pink Samsung camera for Christmas, and as you can see, she's quite thrilled with it. And actually - so am I! Its not an expensive camera but she's only seven, and all of the kids' cameras were almost as expensive, except then you're paying to have Hannah Montana's face on the camera - not to get decent pictures. This one was less than $80, is really easy enough for a seven year old to use, and she's been taking fantastic pictures with it. Plus, its PINK. She's a budding photo-journalist and documentary film-maker. I love seeing all of the different the things she takes pictures of and the commentary on her little videos - its fascinating to see the world through the eyes of my seven-year old.<br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhv6BLBusdKNX5OnYxWDp2GdR_Fr4O3xeHP0cNDH25UWwX6rheZ5iD-_E7QBMtHtEAOCpv6vnhrr-iN_A0NhTtW6QazgM0upPZRisA2n9nT4UxMWwd1eXFieYJvk9giWAkpdFCA8g/s1600-h/20081127_0798.JPG"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 300px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhv6BLBusdKNX5OnYxWDp2GdR_Fr4O3xeHP0cNDH25UWwX6rheZ5iD-_E7QBMtHtEAOCpv6vnhrr-iN_A0NhTtW6QazgM0upPZRisA2n9nT4UxMWwd1eXFieYJvk9giWAkpdFCA8g/s400/20081127_0798.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5291406649399148354" border="0" /></a>We invited my sister in law and her family to come over and play Guitar Hero with us. At some point in the evening - about two seconds after I took this picture, I realized - it looks like a freaking DAYCARE in here. Where the heck did all these kids come from? My goodness, seven kids is a lot to have in one room. Only three went home with their parents. The other four are mine!<br /><br /><div style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-weight: bold;">New Year's Day</span><br /></div><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiiKfRl5xQTJ5rElBJNDmE9w5xIyvvdaY6kw1w8iOonYypWS1CmhqT9MDrNID9pRqATpJGSuePHhMG1DY-v7-QBpbVzUk4ZDPbTTcv0TwIWe0HNmkUp_vm-r4YFMtsGdqzk-6UXkg/s1600-h/20081202_0822.JPG"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 300px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiiKfRl5xQTJ5rElBJNDmE9w5xIyvvdaY6kw1w8iOonYypWS1CmhqT9MDrNID9pRqATpJGSuePHhMG1DY-v7-QBpbVzUk4ZDPbTTcv0TwIWe0HNmkUp_vm-r4YFMtsGdqzk-6UXkg/s400/20081202_0822.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5291411942591285506" border="0" /></a><br /><br />For New Year's, we had a break from the cold snap and had a nice snowstorm instead. The snow stopped early New Year's day and we decided to brave the roads and head out to the lake. This is the first time I've been out there in the winter - and I can't wait to go back. My aunt and uncle have the wood stove going in their cabin, all of the boards off the windows, and its just as nice and cozy in the winter as it is in the summer. The kids played in the snow out on the lake, the men went ice-fishing - and we just sat around and relaxed with the baby.<br /><br /><div style="text-align: center;"><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhx79u2gv35aG84Zjzcdq3ZCWiVrkD0jzjLYwkVslkGvixySDB_8ZXuSjxe7q4uIjw9wN8icRNqf3LjGl1q9mYnW_SvmYotbzeSuOpc9KehhmcI8X6eSLw1aRNAZia0dHv2VZRxYg/s1600-h/20081202_0829.JPG"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 300px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhx79u2gv35aG84Zjzcdq3ZCWiVrkD0jzjLYwkVslkGvixySDB_8ZXuSjxe7q4uIjw9wN8icRNqf3LjGl1q9mYnW_SvmYotbzeSuOpc9KehhmcI8X6eSLw1aRNAZia0dHv2VZRxYg/s400/20081202_0829.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5293278248662554002" border="0" /></a><span style="font-style: italic;">The girls playing in the snow on the lake</span><br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhbn3Unw_s_CKzOLF1IeW9Gdc7fu0i-sL2mfYpkjK6O3hefoEmkCcQ9-OyeFpObq-DRhazZ-BvSr-ijwjYHBPptvAD50kNoFBjONTKjoegca4qhaeOBE8HKwoaP1iMaE_jiswZLvA/s1600-h/20081202_0826.JPG"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 300px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhbn3Unw_s_CKzOLF1IeW9Gdc7fu0i-sL2mfYpkjK6O3hefoEmkCcQ9-OyeFpObq-DRhazZ-BvSr-ijwjYHBPptvAD50kNoFBjONTKjoegca4qhaeOBE8HKwoaP1iMaE_jiswZLvA/s400/20081202_0826.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5293278662182125186" border="0" /></a><span style="font-style: italic;">the snow on the lake was too deep for Annique so she stayed in the yard</span><br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjT9rtIpog9lUto3bU3jYYwf-zpTIs0RlTqaM62RJ5YZIzkyA29jUmE6u6t4I_jSb5_FwVTigaVQ5gzy-Ml86W6L-MFZJwmEnfIEZQ-y6NExrSgbO5LT9KpeuVzopEl24dgalbxVA/s1600-h/20081202_0832.JPG"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 300px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjT9rtIpog9lUto3bU3jYYwf-zpTIs0RlTqaM62RJ5YZIzkyA29jUmE6u6t4I_jSb5_FwVTigaVQ5gzy-Ml86W6L-MFZJwmEnfIEZQ-y6NExrSgbO5LT9KpeuVzopEl24dgalbxVA/s400/20081202_0832.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5293279061193264498" border="0" /></a><span style="font-style: italic;">Staying warm inside by the fire</span><br /><br /><br /></div><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /></div><br /><br /><br /><br /><div style="text-align: left;"><br /></div></div>cheribearhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10454127394682222434noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-38225837.post-15906953194558681602008-12-28T20:20:00.001-08:002009-01-10T20:16:17.703-08:00a birth storySo the night after I was up all night wondering if I was in labor, I actually did get up at 2 am and was in actual labor. You'd think the fourth time around I'd have things pretty well figured out, but I still sat around for an hour or so trying to decide if it was the real thing or not, and timed the contractions which were coming every 10 minutes, give or take a few - and annoyingly enough - not going away. I did a few things around the house, finished up laundry, put a few things away, made the bed downstairs for my mother in law, who would have to come and stay with my kids if we left. And by about 3:30 in the morning, I figured maybe I should wake up my husband so he could call his mother to come over, and we could get on the road. I phoned the hospital to make sure they knew we were coming - told the nurse my contractions were consistently 10 minutes apart and it was my fourth baby, and she said we'd better get on the road then. So, okay - we will.<br /><br />I remember that in the last 10 minutes or so before we left, I was doing something so stupid as dusting the baseboards on my husband's side of the bed, because we had just finished painting the spare room earlier that night<br /><br /><div style="text-align: center;"><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhp1Mh6O8otw_FY-ktPxH2fJduFq0oKPcqmyZJPio096p5pgIlxg0nRmxfbABtNceBLXR_d4U0mJbb3_NeW7Gdgm90kzL8xea5v6MXQYbYUyvMC8rUfwtleJmJBHbWkrjbSQRDGLw/s1600-h/20081204_0506.JPG"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 267px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhp1Mh6O8otw_FY-ktPxH2fJduFq0oKPcqmyZJPio096p5pgIlxg0nRmxfbABtNceBLXR_d4U0mJbb3_NeW7Gdgm90kzL8xea5v6MXQYbYUyvMC8rUfwtleJmJBHbWkrjbSQRDGLw/s400/20081204_0506.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5289874142680589890" border="0" /></a><span style="font-style: italic;">Earlier that night...</span><br /></div><br />- and even though I made the bed in there, I thought maybe my mother in law would rather sleep in our bed where the paint fumes weren't quite so thick. And when I switched on the light on his side of the bed, I was suddenly mortified by the thickness of the dust on the baseboards.<br /><br />With all that important stuff taken care of - we hit the road with bags packed at about 4 am. I came back into the house three times looking for the little notepad where I'd been keeping track of contractions for the past few hours, it also had a bunch of important phone numbers and the list of baby names I'd narrowed down - I managed to misplace it sometime in the five minutes before we left the house and it didn't show up until two weeks after we got home.<br /><br />The drive to the hospital was uneventful - I kept timing the contractions and found another notebook to write them down. They stayed a nice comfortable 10 minutes apart, the weather and the roads were good, so I wasn't worried. We arrived at the hospital around 6 am, they hooked me up to the monitors for a half hour or so - and I only had one contraction the whole time. I decided to walk around for awhile to see if I could get things going again, then went back to the room and fell asleep for an hour or so until my doctor came in to see me - and basically kicked us out! She said she had a bunch of patients being induced and delivering today and would be really busy, and couldn't do anything for me. Which was fine because I don't want her to 'do' anything for me, except catch my baby when he's ready to come out.<br /><br />She wanted us to stay in town and check back in later or if things started to progress a bit more. That was good news for me because I can't imagine anything more boring than laboring in a hospital all day long, and I certainly didn't want them to speed things up for me. So, we checked out. I asked the nurse at the desk if it was okay if I ate - she said I could even have pizza and beer if I liked. Well, I would have liked, but it was still several hours until noon, so I didn't. I did hit Tim Horton's on the way out of the hospital, though.<br /><br />We went straight to the mall where I had a big plate of french toast and coffee for breakfast, then we wandered around there for awhile, then went to Canadian Tire where I started to get pretty uncomfortable and had to find a place to sit while Serge wandered the aisles looking for stuff for the old truck he's fixing up. I don't think it was being in labor, but just the fact that its BOOOOORING - I needed to sit.<br /><br />After that we went to Home Depot and got a screaming deal on a light for the girls' new room and a wireless doorbell, found parts for our vacuum cleaner and scoped out the deals on real Christmas trees. Then we went to Winners where I really started to feel tired and awful - but we had to pick up a few things at Wal-Mart before finally returning to the hospital at about 4 pm.<br /><br />So, aside from an hour or so napping in the hospital that morning, I'd been up and in labor for 12 hours by that time, and walking all over the place for most of it. The hospital hooked me up to the monitors again, and my contractions weren't any closer than they were that morning. I told them I needed to get a room there, or I'd find one in a hotel because I needed a rest. They decided they had room to admit me this time.<br /><br />I realized again that my contractions slowed down a lot when I stopped moving, so I spent the next few hours walking the halls and bouncing on one of those exercise balls - trying to get things moving so I could get an epidural and then get some rest. I had a nice long, warm bath and around 7 I was getting uncomfortable enough with the contractions that I wouldn't be able to sleep if I tried - so I finally asked for the epidural - then crawled into bed and slept on and off for the next few hours. Serge had a recliner in the room and he managed to get a little bit of sleep, too. He had bought a couple of DVD movies to watch but we couldn't get them to work on the little TV in the room - but did discover that the TV was hooked up so we weren't bored.<br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjkzDujkjPelHLTUkfkAjhKQ4mc6mk2aYZt094uLDAFRnIlvpZBih-RRkg_z-EYuL62UixdW39Cm2Muxm20V1luTQwCArpmczv2Bq_Rt4k4noUq4trhmVSj9mWuCaw9sdsTZQw0iA/s1600-h/20080425_0282.JPG"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 300px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjkzDujkjPelHLTUkfkAjhKQ4mc6mk2aYZt094uLDAFRnIlvpZBih-RRkg_z-EYuL62UixdW39Cm2Muxm20V1luTQwCArpmczv2Bq_Rt4k4noUq4trhmVSj9mWuCaw9sdsTZQw0iA/s400/20080425_0282.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5289875103764312450" border="0" /></a><br /><div style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-style: italic;">Happy with an epidural - about 3 hours to go</span><br /></div><br />In the meantime it seems my doctor was delivering babies all over the place - but not mine. Nobody wanted my labor to progress until all these other babies were delivered, and I was more than happy not to be messed with or pushed along. Finally, the doctor had the last c-section done at past eleven or something, then she wanted to break my water and get me started on pitocin so she wouldn't be up all night waiting for me to deliver. It seemed to take forever, and they kept upping the dose on the pitocin - and being surprised when my contractions didn't seem to get any closer together. They kept asking if I felt pressure or anything - and actually - I didn't. I'd sort of lie and say I did just to keep them interested. Yeah, like they were going to call it a night and go home or something. I knew I'd have the baby sooner or later but I was getting bored waiting.<br /><br />I was just starting to stress a little about what would happen if things didn't start moving - when they checked me and said I was at 9 cm and started dismantling the bed. The doctor came along and said I was ready to push - and she was ready, and I could push any time now. I asked her if I'm supposed to wait for a contraction. She said - well, yes. Cue Jeopardy theme music, because my contractions were *still* 5+ minutes apart, so we have this nurse and doctor waiting around at the end of the bed waiting for me to announce that I am having a contraction, so we can get this show on the road.<br /><br />The long-awaited contraction finally hits, and so I got down to business with the pushing, etc. which I didn't expect to take long - it was just one or two long pushes, stopping only because she told me to stop (so I told Serge to get the camera, yes seriously, and yes, NOW...) and by the time he reached the camera and had it turned on...Evan arrived!<br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><div style="text-align: center;"><iframe allowfullscreen='allowfullscreen' webkitallowfullscreen='webkitallowfullscreen' mozallowfullscreen='mozallowfullscreen' width='320' height='266' src='https://www.blogger.com/video.g?token=AD6v5dyLY82pE6x48cacCExtywvn6ZqZ49tLMvriWvNuTNLkEY-cdZpsmIHPJPKyaqzy5xVY0oTIMoZRKJU' class='b-hbp-video b-uploaded' frameborder='0'></iframe><br /><br /><span style="font-style: italic;">Hearing him cry for the first time</span><br /></div><div style="text-align: center;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: center;"><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgR0NF5KmtLfJaUT_p5auSG-zccoTTUO8ESgV_D7TAssDqJb6OISy0eU3THrH5lEOFYZaft-EU4O5eIzi81txtCZCr0y1mc08l7Ez3twzMDf0l-mJoYBjHLK0U2KFzriiatm9YkPA/s1600-h/20080425_0293.JPG"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 300px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgR0NF5KmtLfJaUT_p5auSG-zccoTTUO8ESgV_D7TAssDqJb6OISy0eU3THrH5lEOFYZaft-EU4O5eIzi81txtCZCr0y1mc08l7Ez3twzMDf0l-mJoYBjHLK0U2KFzriiatm9YkPA/s400/20080425_0293.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5289876179147477650" border="0" /></a><br /><span style="font-style: italic;">Helloo, baby!<br /><br /></span><div style="text-align: left;">He was born at 2: in the morning - and it was almost 4 am by the time we were all able to get to sleep. Evan was exhausted from being born, so he slept the rest of the night and woke up sometime after they brought me breakfast in the morning. Then I was finally able to get him out and dressed and take a good look at him - took a few (hundred) pictures. He spent most of his first day sleeping in the big recliner with his dad.<br /><br /><div style="text-align: center;"><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEghTshkXAGMLXBJDLgOJZPDX_pZb8alKqoTY_vS7FWTerS1SvTvtDDkq9a6fTwhwfKIxSa_KMqOjYg6LQxJnG3Ati43-8wGeC4LTSwvQBZqj1f5qTNztqbx-nObeACZ0pyhaaoG3Q/s1600-h/20080425_0299.JPG"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 300px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEghTshkXAGMLXBJDLgOJZPDX_pZb8alKqoTY_vS7FWTerS1SvTvtDDkq9a6fTwhwfKIxSa_KMqOjYg6LQxJnG3Ati43-8wGeC4LTSwvQBZqj1f5qTNztqbx-nObeACZ0pyhaaoG3Q/s400/20080425_0299.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5289882265100468674" border="0" /></a><span style="font-style: italic;">naked, cold and angry about it</span><br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhpU5Ub7QwYOxkWjBZ7XCe1nhLRJG2Z-jAjuY-MvTGvJ0Lq8yWUr4J7KLVQmXJVAu2kKIEP4_IK8hTzsroxkNp8dYrAo2gtzVOZFntYR1aFRwUU3uvDTRceWTtCTUtEogQsIHN3ZA/s1600-h/20080425_0322.JPG"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 300px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhpU5Ub7QwYOxkWjBZ7XCe1nhLRJG2Z-jAjuY-MvTGvJ0Lq8yWUr4J7KLVQmXJVAu2kKIEP4_IK8hTzsroxkNp8dYrAo2gtzVOZFntYR1aFRwUU3uvDTRceWTtCTUtEogQsIHN3ZA/s400/20080425_0322.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5289883057291918562" border="0" /></a><span style="font-style: italic;">warm and happy with clothes on</span><br /></div><br /><div style="text-align: center;"><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhVecKUJADYZsIHgP8RHmIU-NJKrfcCu4ykxGrUlRVntnA2nM6HqU9yETPSaQ9VgDiXy1DJoSyb0k9FZ_mADPxnZxD4wKKetQxPlViPPq6_WVPK02aq56YP7W-AUhJVYB-KAY3IAQ/s1600-h/20080425_0311.JPG"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 300px; height: 400px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhVecKUJADYZsIHgP8RHmIU-NJKrfcCu4ykxGrUlRVntnA2nM6HqU9yETPSaQ9VgDiXy1DJoSyb0k9FZ_mADPxnZxD4wKKetQxPlViPPq6_WVPK02aq56YP7W-AUhJVYB-KAY3IAQ/s400/20080425_0311.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5289884231392280370" border="0" /></a><br /><span style="font-style: italic;">He clawed his face up the first night,<br />so then I made sure his hands were covered</span><br /></div><br /><br /><br /><br /><div style="text-align: center;"><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgkrT99r_2ZUg36OA72tVHa8g4m5DsIhx_vwUuY4pTHMSBVCZQr1BNLxGs4ieY_-1XFp2G_mtFc3ZUFGehediFXeZ2dLeEXkuFHZFR8b3zc1urVQeI1mAQZBgERtuaRDdjcgVteSw/s1600-h/20080425_0317.JPG"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 300px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgkrT99r_2ZUg36OA72tVHa8g4m5DsIhx_vwUuY4pTHMSBVCZQr1BNLxGs4ieY_-1XFp2G_mtFc3ZUFGehediFXeZ2dLeEXkuFHZFR8b3zc1urVQeI1mAQZBgERtuaRDdjcgVteSw/s400/20080425_0317.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5289881824728983074" border="0" /></a><span style="font-style: italic;">soooooooo tired</span><br /></div><br /><br /></div><span style="font-style: italic;"><br /></span><div style="text-align: left;"><span style="font-style: italic;"><span style="font-style: italic;"></span></span><br /><span style="font-style: italic;"></span></div><span style="font-style: italic;"><br /><br /></span></div><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><div style="text-align: center;"><br /></div><br /><br /><div style="text-align: center;"><br /></div>cheribearhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10454127394682222434noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-38225837.post-64713816928980834282008-12-03T02:07:00.001-08:002008-12-03T07:41:34.879-08:00nothing to do at 4 in the morningexcept, update my blog, I guess. I keep waking up in the middle of the night thinking, I must be up for a reason. So I wait around for a couple of hours, put in a load of laundry, read a book, watch TV or whatever until it feels close enough to morning that it must be safe to go back to bed.<br /><br />I really don't want to go into labor in the middle of the night - I did it once and it wasn't my favorite way to go about it. Mostly I hate to wake up when I am sleeping - I like to sleep. In the day I can figure out if I really should be thinking about going anywhere. At night, I just worry that I'll go back to sleep when we should be getting on the road - and end up having a home-birth or something.<br /><br />It's weird to sit around waiting for your whole life to change. Things won't be the same ever again in a few days, or whenever this happens. Lots of people have babies and are so anxious for them to arrive but at this point, I just like every day we have where things get to stay the same as they've always been. I know those days are numbered, and we have the rest of our lives to enjoy what comes after. Of course I'm looking forward to finding out who he is and I know after he's born I'll be unable to imagine this life we have right now, without him in it. That's how it always goes. And then, I'll be wanting to stop time again because I know they grow up way too fast and I'll want to enjoy every minute of having a little baby. Unless he likes to scream a lot or something...<br /><br />Anyway, its all going to happen whenever and however it happens, today, tomorrow - next week in the end, its just a day on the calendar. And right now, I just want a few more of those. And more sleep. I really should go back to sleep.<br /><br /><div style="text-align: center;"><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhXGc7Qj_lGgvobX-T9alAcyP59QlCaWLoWXeylhlbcLOJ932M-w7gsOHJZpEb88XchNyAVD1TZoIEN9xUAOyuthT012O-28Rrdf_2dKF3N0Akij6wZeZxrv2-4_GehntnQ-c1f4w/s1600-h/belly+shot+copyct.jpg"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 300px; height: 400px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhXGc7Qj_lGgvobX-T9alAcyP59QlCaWLoWXeylhlbcLOJ932M-w7gsOHJZpEb88XchNyAVD1TZoIEN9xUAOyuthT012O-28Rrdf_2dKF3N0Akij6wZeZxrv2-4_GehntnQ-c1f4w/s400/belly+shot+copyct.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5275523860866493074" border="0" /></a><span style="font-style: italic;">Hmm, I think this belly makes my face look fat.</span> <span style="font-style: italic;"> From this angle, anyway.</span><br /><span style="font-style: italic;"></span></div>cheribearhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10454127394682222434noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-38225837.post-36690712960043650912008-04-25T11:59:00.000-07:002008-04-25T15:31:41.780-07:00Wiggles weekend<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiRN02c3-jcaWpfnN7SeTC_639Sd1exugxTS2Nzh9pVvamUrrWj7uCUOu8hyphenhyphenOAKgbOm3fk9RmobXy0_oea77LUknUJxwxH84DIqI-4Wr1gaydFWUFfTBapSPhUUVdJ2T0Z4pv9khQ/s1600-h/IMG_2942%5B1%5D.jpg"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiRN02c3-jcaWpfnN7SeTC_639Sd1exugxTS2Nzh9pVvamUrrWj7uCUOu8hyphenhyphenOAKgbOm3fk9RmobXy0_oea77LUknUJxwxH84DIqI-4Wr1gaydFWUFfTBapSPhUUVdJ2T0Z4pv9khQ/s400/IMG_2942%5B1%5D.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5193292449058434786" border="0" /></a><br /><br />It should have been much, much worse. What were we thinking, bringing a 3 year old and two 2 year olds out for a weekend of fun? Fun for WHO? It seemed like a good idea 2 months ago when I bought the tickets, but as the weekend loomed - I started to wonder if we'd regret it.<br /><br />However, Saturday rolled around and we packed the van up with kids and luggage, snacks and DVD's, and hit the road. It was a 3 hour uneventful drive to Regina, the worst behavior on the way there was Annique and her refusal to sleep, instead she gazed out the window. I tried not to think about what that would mean for the rest of the day, and just enjoyed the peace and quiet.<br /><br />First stop was some sort of Fun-O-Rama type place where kids can run wild and free for hours and nobody lets them out without their mom, so its all good. Best four bucks I ever spent in my life, I think. We met a bunch of girlfriends and their kids, and had coffee and visited while the kids wore themselves out on the play structure thing. It took me a while to get over the fact that my child was very likely to be out of my sight for long periods of time, but the point is for the adults to sit and watch, and the kids to play.<br /><br /><div style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-style: italic;">One moment where I knew where she was - the ball pit</span><br /></div><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiunBSIVewXiHFlj6EZ1-iwIvjkVA7iCPsmXN9d4YNXE5ThDZV8ijW4IO5jydzRgK4Hl8PL7MgEoWOYUGGeg5zXGJ_rp0SzI723iiSoPJYLgiTaYheBRoWH9jaxbBC7bu0GF9xjaA/s1600-h/annique+ball+pit.jpg"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiunBSIVewXiHFlj6EZ1-iwIvjkVA7iCPsmXN9d4YNXE5ThDZV8ijW4IO5jydzRgK4Hl8PL7MgEoWOYUGGeg5zXGJ_rp0SzI723iiSoPJYLgiTaYheBRoWH9jaxbBC7bu0GF9xjaA/s400/annique+ball+pit.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5193277914889105106" border="0" /></a><br /><br />We went straight from the play place to the concert, there was barely time to feed the kids so we gave them each a chicken finger to eat in the van. Great parenting! Annique was still clutching hers when we went into the concert but fortunately the security there knew better than to seize chicken from an overtired 2 year old.<br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjvQncvHyWhaTBjB2PBfsqBOF_-j3sFcpRR-bQdcCBx8mzc35lhyphenhyphenk2Qj2yV3hJKkfqosrH4fdb2EjHuPvVM7vtdqGM1jklL3eGCbNtXwJ6iTvLP6zUkLB6ujK3F8IV5g0WlTavMkA/s1600-h/IMG_2949%5B1%5D.jpg"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjvQncvHyWhaTBjB2PBfsqBOF_-j3sFcpRR-bQdcCBx8mzc35lhyphenhyphenk2Qj2yV3hJKkfqosrH4fdb2EjHuPvVM7vtdqGM1jklL3eGCbNtXwJ6iTvLP6zUkLB6ujK3F8IV5g0WlTavMkA/s400/IMG_2949%5B1%5D.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5193293381066338034" border="0" /></a><br />The concert was short and sweet - a good time had by all. My three year old nephew really enjoyed it the most - he was dancing and singing and having a really good time. My younger nephew was quite a bit more reserved, but he didn't really hate it or anything. Annique recognized a lot of the songs, was happy to see Dorothy, and loved the dancers who were often looking like ballerinas or princesses - two of her favorite things. I took a few video clips of the concert and NOW she wants to watch them non-stop. With great enthusiasm. WIGGLES!! LOOK, mom - WIGGLES, again!<br /><br /><div style="text-align: center;"><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhXxMiG0vSmB1PHiGkaPVQv0dXxoVFibKYTce-KIhIYniqLGhcA4J8WE77ztmxhfF_kKiPsSxFtSso9w7eu08HfsYYUSFgCOEJFXCF3Om0i6PqCgzjjAzanE7l00fvyqOfRNj9XUg/s1600-h/IMG_2965%5B1%5D.jpg"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhXxMiG0vSmB1PHiGkaPVQv0dXxoVFibKYTce-KIhIYniqLGhcA4J8WE77ztmxhfF_kKiPsSxFtSso9w7eu08HfsYYUSFgCOEJFXCF3Om0i6PqCgzjjAzanE7l00fvyqOfRNj9XUg/s400/IMG_2965%5B1%5D.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5193300987453419266" border="0" /></a> <span style="font-style: italic;">Gee, do you think its safe to let the kids run here?</span><span style="font-style: italic;"></span><br /></div><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiBqBj-WwQv6y3kqjNmQTbrrohClE8HNQbW3cSAmTbWtNCDa6VyMbzBjFtYbJh-QWxuz-kAp8CUxEW1wTJhkuQlaqskf9-YecY9pbSLICMyj31hmSZ287DVefHcqxDifcBXUnLl8w/s1600-h/IMG_2981%5B1%5D.jpg"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiBqBj-WwQv6y3kqjNmQTbrrohClE8HNQbW3cSAmTbWtNCDa6VyMbzBjFtYbJh-QWxuz-kAp8CUxEW1wTJhkuQlaqskf9-YecY9pbSLICMyj31hmSZ287DVefHcqxDifcBXUnLl8w/s400/IMG_2981%5B1%5D.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5193302361842954002" border="0" /></a><br />From the concert we headed back to the hotel, and hauled all three kids and suitcases and lifejackets and whatnot into the lobby, only to find out that the POOL IS CLOSED. They immediately offered to call and find us a spot at another hotel - I think one look at the kids and they knew we wouldn't be staying in a hotel without a pool. Or, maybe they didn't WANT us there if they didn't have a pool. The second hotel had a pool and waterslide so we settled in there, ordered pizza, and took the kids swimming while we waited for it to be delivered.<br /><br /><div style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-style: italic;">My nephew approving of the hotel room</span><br /></div><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjbujBLMjAhTChOC99PJvoqMt9kmpHhZg_DW8FbqldfFtlXFqC2eytavMHaEEnFj2JApfAsx7mHgDuo-ngggK8_gcTw4iTYuwrXcH4fvLVEPlHXk75lJrixpMlPLK3pJoz9b6GbnQ/s1600-h/IMG_2985%5B1%5D.jpg"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjbujBLMjAhTChOC99PJvoqMt9kmpHhZg_DW8FbqldfFtlXFqC2eytavMHaEEnFj2JApfAsx7mHgDuo-ngggK8_gcTw4iTYuwrXcH4fvLVEPlHXk75lJrixpMlPLK3pJoz9b6GbnQ/s400/IMG_2985%5B1%5D.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5193303379750203170" border="0" /></a><br />The rooms had two queen beds with four fluffy pillows on each. My sister and I plotted to each have a queen bed all to ourselves - we had a portable crib....<br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhUmikFYohAQ6K3AZW9I4D2L7rSlF29_yWI6rwUsspMaDHVl9K8MAnC2qTkd6q_5GaN3NyMLJioA5ZLPoHwpZLAMMPZFzZoxpUrp7t1sP-W5LRD8R-Zigj84gvOBpzaS6998F_H3g/s1600-h/DSCN1643.JPG"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhUmikFYohAQ6K3AZW9I4D2L7rSlF29_yWI6rwUsspMaDHVl9K8MAnC2qTkd6q_5GaN3NyMLJioA5ZLPoHwpZLAMMPZFzZoxpUrp7t1sP-W5LRD8R-Zigj84gvOBpzaS6998F_H3g/s400/DSCN1643.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5193304195793989426" border="0" /></a><br />a Thomas the Tank ready-bed...<br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhtQICIaqzZHErc5DUkWLz7eH2khdsS-mAdPRMrgDTN8j-OFgH1dZVnAC_p4xwYaNqv6hdmsW_25NLak3QaMtBjjVabFMn_5gKaAL5RzKFnIu_1eze1lsIs1SvBVBthKIEysbxkiA/s1600-h/DSCN1637.JPG"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhtQICIaqzZHErc5DUkWLz7eH2khdsS-mAdPRMrgDTN8j-OFgH1dZVnAC_p4xwYaNqv6hdmsW_25NLak3QaMtBjjVabFMn_5gKaAL5RzKFnIu_1eze1lsIs1SvBVBthKIEysbxkiA/s400/DSCN1637.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5193304672535359298" border="0" /></a><br />and a playpen, but my youngest nephew was having *none* of that. So my sister didn't get a bed all to herself, but the rest of us did.<br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiFzIsJlKtXg1CABEsN13z1AKrA394RHOLDwiTVWe_DdwDRlBSzntbmOognUUBHC-qBTPDiYtgaa6HJ4NFhGmhU9Fggu6FCM5p4646WvAJMTOKMyMbu00GrWN0PlLcUdYPNUMbU8w/s1600-h/DSCN1640.JPG"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiFzIsJlKtXg1CABEsN13z1AKrA394RHOLDwiTVWe_DdwDRlBSzntbmOognUUBHC-qBTPDiYtgaa6HJ4NFhGmhU9Fggu6FCM5p4646WvAJMTOKMyMbu00GrWN0PlLcUdYPNUMbU8w/s400/DSCN1640.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5193305342550257490" border="0" /></a>The next day was just unbelievably warm for an April day - we did a little bit of shopping and then met my friend and her two daughters to go to the park to let the kids run off some energy before the drive home. It was so hot, there was nothing to do but take off our shoes and socks, roll up our sleeves and our pants, and soak up the sun. I even got a little sunburn on my face.<br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi2ixHqaEdk_wAkqmcAWdt8U_b87BGIrCe6_5KMxfDU8YXYyhYTsMJJDNqFxAKMuY-dVpg7Ypug1f-APNJssKC_R2tNDYmHRBpJmJPC5KWQi9tCMjChTGTX0vqLPYagr4NEc5Wxtg/s1600-h/IMG_3020%5B1%5D.jpg"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi2ixHqaEdk_wAkqmcAWdt8U_b87BGIrCe6_5KMxfDU8YXYyhYTsMJJDNqFxAKMuY-dVpg7Ypug1f-APNJssKC_R2tNDYmHRBpJmJPC5KWQi9tCMjChTGTX0vqLPYagr4NEc5Wxtg/s400/IMG_3020%5B1%5D.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5193310371956961122" border="0" /></a><br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhuPyY37pefCs6IjuoD8Ng7blAZqJCKUSon67GRV8nJd4yVSmNe2CJQl7B2RMJLFsV4led52kTxpug81FZEfsn3P941oMCCoecti4AWTSxCtJyMpXwY36V0wh5tHCVckGp8czr5RQ/s1600-h/IMG_3015%5B1%5D.jpg"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhuPyY37pefCs6IjuoD8Ng7blAZqJCKUSon67GRV8nJd4yVSmNe2CJQl7B2RMJLFsV4led52kTxpug81FZEfsn3P941oMCCoecti4AWTSxCtJyMpXwY36V0wh5tHCVckGp8czr5RQ/s400/IMG_3015%5B1%5D.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5193311063446695794" border="0" /></a><br />It was just a wonderful way to finish the weekend - and all that sunshine and fresh air left no doubt that the three of them would sleep all the way home.<br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiSJMcMX1kKGI-UfAFNhMJeAWbB71b0n3mLni-w9E8bU6qqrznCeCd885lW09cxnU29dzYGTwhXV2YmoavTfCN6TojBdTw5Kb1A9j_kqBvAZsFGOJJpiAN0P3T-GAlutX9Q6pHI7w/s1600-h/IMG_3023%5B1%5D.jpg"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiSJMcMX1kKGI-UfAFNhMJeAWbB71b0n3mLni-w9E8bU6qqrznCeCd885lW09cxnU29dzYGTwhXV2YmoavTfCN6TojBdTw5Kb1A9j_kqBvAZsFGOJJpiAN0P3T-GAlutX9Q6pHI7w/s400/IMG_3023%5B1%5D.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5193313253880016770" border="0" /></a><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh8HLwcsmfxe9J_BsRj98AbDyARHtYzsPtB7KqnboBO3vRA6pWl87Jrnzl5-dhyaQE088o_dkGTgQRf5j9y4OzqLO1SPx4_sPVqC0quTfPVLrkxqapqr9B8ERVdoeMApHpOxYTazw/s1600-h/IMG_3024%5B1%5D.jpg"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh8HLwcsmfxe9J_BsRj98AbDyARHtYzsPtB7KqnboBO3vRA6pWl87Jrnzl5-dhyaQE088o_dkGTgQRf5j9y4OzqLO1SPx4_sPVqC0quTfPVLrkxqapqr9B8ERVdoeMApHpOxYTazw/s400/IMG_3024%5B1%5D.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5193313597477400466" border="0" /></a><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj-ZegXA0hJ83tkVVyoEHS0ZhZcpBLPMQITTV1Dayzh-p33wXiY-4AjFqrzBxgr6p68UTe_HFiu5ktiZ9cw6zXiMLyaj11QUBt6pk2JGdeDMJOszfuH_NjPeP_H0a7R0EWP8YMtYg/s1600-h/IMG_3025%5B1%5D.jpg"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj-ZegXA0hJ83tkVVyoEHS0ZhZcpBLPMQITTV1Dayzh-p33wXiY-4AjFqrzBxgr6p68UTe_HFiu5ktiZ9cw6zXiMLyaj11QUBt6pk2JGdeDMJOszfuH_NjPeP_H0a7R0EWP8YMtYg/s400/IMG_3025%5B1%5D.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5193314018384195490" border="0" /></a><br /><br />And they did. THE END.cheribearhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10454127394682222434noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-38225837.post-21557380448171768142008-04-09T22:13:00.000-07:002008-04-09T23:07:45.757-07:00Spring on the prairiesSo, this was the tail end of March - we had an evening nice enough that we decided to go for a walk with the kids. I took one million pictures and scrapped a page when I got home:<br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhKyu0KV5jj0tJO6gU45fKNkemzk3v5OFpY-wTIGYrcmUATUy-jsaWYXZ9xrXjaGIAlgszdltGZDUZkXDphMKAgwosH5GM55MfGNLvMRvM00FwNz4-OVxbikiLn6YpyeQ4x9QvLdQ/s1600-h/spring+2008+web.jpg"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhKyu0KV5jj0tJO6gU45fKNkemzk3v5OFpY-wTIGYrcmUATUy-jsaWYXZ9xrXjaGIAlgszdltGZDUZkXDphMKAgwosH5GM55MfGNLvMRvM00FwNz4-OVxbikiLn6YpyeQ4x9QvLdQ/s400/spring+2008+web.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5187481101955384434" border="0" /></a>There? Isn't that nice? Almost worth suffering through the weeks on end of ridiculous ass-freezing cold in February. Its been a miserable winter that way - not even a lot of snow for the kids to play in, I think it really snowed twice in November and early December, and then was just so cold that it never melted. Finally - spring is around the corner!!! Right???!?!<br /><br /><br />SO, the next day.......<br /><br /><br /><object height="350" width="425"> <param name="movie" value="http://www.youtube.com/v/OlV7rY-amfQ"> <embed src="http://www.youtube.com/v/OlV7rY-amfQ" type="application/x-shockwave-flash" height="350" width="425"></embed> </object><br /><br />......you know it snowed like crazy. Big, heavy snow, and endless piles of it. I couldn't believe it. And of course, I was driving in it because even if it only snows three times in a winter, with my luck I'd have to get caught driving in it. Thank goodness it wasn't far - I was only driving in and around town but still feared for my life while heading down the treacherous valley hill and I slid over the end of a sharp corner and almost into something that could have been a shrub or a pile of steel, for all I could tell with the thick coating of snow covering it.<br /><br />I bought a snowplow for my husband's quad for his birthday and it actually plowed a bit of snow back in November but since then of course its been sitting in the garage, parked in the way so that I have no choice but to dent the van doors and bruise my shins a few times a week trying to get in and out. But that's all worthwhile now because my husband plowed the driveway THREE TIMES that day. I went out and took some fabulous crazy snowfall pictures, and of course they were the best photos I've ever taken, because I promptly deleted them off my camera. But I do have the video, so its not a total loss.cheribearhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10454127394682222434noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-38225837.post-13453577259925288812008-03-26T22:41:00.000-07:002008-03-26T23:13:05.791-07:00Sick of pages yet?These aren't really recent - I've tried to start several pages in the last week or so and I'm getting nowhere with them. Here's the one I finished a few weeks ago but couldn't post until it was in store. That's all Kathy Moore's stuff and she's at <a href="http://www.acherryontop.com/digital/company/kathy_moore_designs">A Cherry on Top</a> now, if you want to check it out.<br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgiO_qbEOHkAcr_gic-8PSBeXbYrh77sfSarq3TuuDh5mwjuYGsGLoLfEM4K7rMPLohLZ1I6heVdm15dtEHlef1f94t8lqmk4dGL5teikagAqSvzXMEYb4MDHgDlkD8dPFONm1Akw/s1600-h/Swim+web.jpg"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgiO_qbEOHkAcr_gic-8PSBeXbYrh77sfSarq3TuuDh5mwjuYGsGLoLfEM4K7rMPLohLZ1I6heVdm15dtEHlef1f94t8lqmk4dGL5teikagAqSvzXMEYb4MDHgDlkD8dPFONm1Akw/s400/Swim+web.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5182293720160062450" border="0" /></a><br /><br />And the page I made two weekends ago after my nephews visited - we colored eggs. I wanted to show off these cute flowers from my good friend Chris Wazielewski - I've known her for many years now, and its a lot of fun being on a CT for someone who was a friend first. I'm very excited to see that her designing seems to be taking off - she's got a lot of great stuff coming out and is now selling at <a href="http://www.divinedigital.com/boutique/manufacturers.php?manufacturerid=133">Divine Digitals</a> and will soon be at Elemental Scraps as well as <a href="http://scrapbook-store.rockymountainhobbies.com/Full-Kits-C19564.aspx">Rocky Mountain Hobbies</a>, where she started out! Way to go, Chris - I'm so glad you decided to go digital!<br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjBqnquOeWIALGqA9oMunLtqSHukRHpu0IwRiEUQLi_fA6-_qhvp-HQbKPL7cJqYsQA5njloVTyhpebJr_ihEyE0HMdj7XDwjo1ZCBjp9X9zchk4AmVo1Ygm2ls5BDINXwPbCa0SA/s1600-h/eggstreme+web.jpg"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjBqnquOeWIALGqA9oMunLtqSHukRHpu0IwRiEUQLi_fA6-_qhvp-HQbKPL7cJqYsQA5njloVTyhpebJr_ihEyE0HMdj7XDwjo1ZCBjp9X9zchk4AmVo1Ygm2ls5BDINXwPbCa0SA/s400/eggstreme+web.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5182293471051959266" border="0" /></a><br />In an only slightly related matter, I found two sippy cups in my fridge today which could only be from the day we dyed eggs. And they had milk in them, unfortunately. I wonder if my sister wants her cup back?cheribearhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10454127394682222434noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-38225837.post-83711664418780913582008-03-13T14:19:00.000-07:002008-03-13T14:28:57.133-07:00Another couple of LO'sI am still scrapping. I have no idea what got into me. So two more layouts to share:<br /><br />This one I actually started a week or two ago and I keep pushing the elements around and switching and adding and resizing things and finally just decided to upload it and be done with it. By the time I want to print it, I'll probably be able to open it and spend five minutes moving this or that, and it will finally look 'right'. But right now its just frustrating me so its as done as its going to get for now.<br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi0l3VAv7iDSI5c8-lZmmsI-_cTV_jSpUyu5GELRYJtPY-NSztJYg117hY5GHxez7S1yiTlBzAuBaHYde3inF-VgjJf7RTW-LBV0rh_RS3OZtKSgfYpZ7kMQkJepL34HGYedsvBnw/s1600-h/glitter+picture+web.jpg"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi0l3VAv7iDSI5c8-lZmmsI-_cTV_jSpUyu5GELRYJtPY-NSztJYg117hY5GHxez7S1yiTlBzAuBaHYde3inF-VgjJf7RTW-LBV0rh_RS3OZtKSgfYpZ7kMQkJepL34HGYedsvBnw/s400/glitter+picture+web.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5177339882456451154" border="0" /></a><br />This one was a lot easier - its a great free kit from <a href="http://www.shabbyprincess.com/Downloads/promise/Promise.asp">Shabby Princess</a> if you haven't grabbed it yet, you should! I still pushed stuff around endlessly on the page but at least I'm happy with how it turned out. The pictures should look familiar - from about 2 blog posts ago. Its a good thing I uploaded them here because the originals were lost in the Great EHD Crash of Feb. '08. <br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh9ert6AALhc4Xntov1as0dFDq7N2DAVvacK1h26wiahtz6WzZifLWknym1fmm7VuwO4iPF31ENdxKwKIKZ3jKeK185WXHRJRPHU5eCYnMvqxV9yBYJtnGw3dNYn1ihyZ4-S-qYjw/s1600-h/madeleine+first+tooth+web.jpg"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh9ert6AALhc4Xntov1as0dFDq7N2DAVvacK1h26wiahtz6WzZifLWknym1fmm7VuwO4iPF31ENdxKwKIKZ3jKeK185WXHRJRPHU5eCYnMvqxV9yBYJtnGw3dNYn1ihyZ4-S-qYjw/s400/madeleine+first+tooth+web.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5177340814464354402" border="0" /></a><br />Credits are in my DST gallery.cheribearhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10454127394682222434noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-38225837.post-23180211000382910052008-03-10T22:41:00.001-07:002008-03-10T22:41:25.450-07:00return of mojo?Whenever someone on the digiscrapping sites says they lost their mojo - I consider how long its been since I had these candies:<br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjINB_EziwswiGwIv-qUG66zAxA0PrIePgbskWyZHZ1nQEYM-YSn9wuFFzJrWHCOe4uDtf80WrkNtns30ISI_SUkwa5FJrT7oCZKI_LECIcffp5C1fD5sRsDevQ6aGw-VJMcp3H/s1600-h/mojo.jpg"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjINB_EziwswiGwIv-qUG66zAxA0PrIePgbskWyZHZ1nQEYM-YSn9wuFFzJrWHCOe4uDtf80WrkNtns30ISI_SUkwa5FJrT7oCZKI_LECIcffp5C1fD5sRsDevQ6aGw-VJMcp3H/s400/mojo.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5176348264702117778" border="0" /></a><br />And - do they even make them anymore? Where can I get my hands on some? I really liked the pink ones. And the green ones. And the yellow ones.... you know, Mojos might be the only colored candy in existence where each color is a different flavor and they are all equally good.<br /><br />Anyway, its been a long time since I had a mojo (the candy) but if we're talking 'scrapping mojo' - well, then mine's been lost for the good part of a year. I haven't had any real interest since last spring. I've been so busy lately with hockey pictures and signs and cards and everything BUT scrapping. I'm staring at Photoshop all day and I really don't feel like opening it up to scrap. The last real layout I made was in October or November, I think.<br /><br />Well, last week - I just started up again and its crazy, I have five layouts done and two half- finished. I even made 12 pages for a calendar and sent that to print. I don't know what got into me but I'll get as much done as I can because who knows how long this motivation is going to last.<br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiFs05aKHcd_jiNIOxpmYcDOP2VUeVuZPEMd6pL511gb5H73oZ-qIbHcbpdr9Zx4wUhVFgBVKJIu9T3VRVat1RCFx2beIiJMR3QbdGa21m17k0Zuvxmazand9tH9se2W7jlIJU7/s1600-h/bowling+web.jpg"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiFs05aKHcd_jiNIOxpmYcDOP2VUeVuZPEMd6pL511gb5H73oZ-qIbHcbpdr9Zx4wUhVFgBVKJIu9T3VRVat1RCFx2beIiJMR3QbdGa21m17k0Zuvxmazand9tH9se2W7jlIJU7/s400/bowling+web.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5176352435115362210" border="0" /></a><br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjfzvEWLSZnwqUx6CVD1fg0wFK2jLV49pr5gk0u5Os6sK_hcSWL9iYFK7YSob3tFdLcyxgssyciVtQYH9EQDo2qjJ-728ACAM1T5ELQu3rYdy9yDv8hQXtZoNG_q2OmcxwxUfew/s1600-h/red+web.jpg"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjfzvEWLSZnwqUx6CVD1fg0wFK2jLV49pr5gk0u5Os6sK_hcSWL9iYFK7YSob3tFdLcyxgssyciVtQYH9EQDo2qjJ-728ACAM1T5ELQu3rYdy9yDv8hQXtZoNG_q2OmcxwxUfew/s400/red+web.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5176352611209021362" border="0" /></a><br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEguqECpkDSQaTxk9YtaeS9Zp4B2BrYgDPWfcAwGW-j36McWYjqLUlEpSJHJ4lfBNZsloAngcSaTLF5TOtqFrSQU-VUuiX3eovBf5H38s7Dv7sa1rD8dX69jPSR9Jlb-7TL0tWKD/s1600-h/yellow+web.jpg"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEguqECpkDSQaTxk9YtaeS9Zp4B2BrYgDPWfcAwGW-j36McWYjqLUlEpSJHJ4lfBNZsloAngcSaTLF5TOtqFrSQU-VUuiX3eovBf5H38s7Dv7sa1rD8dX69jPSR9Jlb-7TL0tWKD/s400/yellow+web.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5176353251159148482" border="0" /></a><br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiJMKPvybaGQDtcgbo1kYufxTPPi4qXdJdhjBebIqahlKkqh_DdrK3OTvmBFGMs5KgpTTDqZfop1zYmhxw-lL1idlx_LP9aQY-L4BcfGAVclis0iXAuIvclLp4CYQI-oOxiFUmb/s1600-h/Cecily+nov+07+web.jpg"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiJMKPvybaGQDtcgbo1kYufxTPPi4qXdJdhjBebIqahlKkqh_DdrK3OTvmBFGMs5KgpTTDqZfop1zYmhxw-lL1idlx_LP9aQY-L4BcfGAVclis0iXAuIvclLp4CYQI-oOxiFUmb/s400/Cecily+nov+07+web.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5176353594756532178" border="0" /></a><br />Credits for all layouts are in my DST gallery - I have one more done that I can't post until it goes up in the store, and another two that I keep messing with so I'm not happy enough to upload them yet.cheribearhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10454127394682222434noreply@blogger.com6