tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-78459165675627982722024-03-13T09:24:53.894-07:00The A TeamMillihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03108568189694186960noreply@blogger.comBlogger37125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7845916567562798272.post-27434401854962666892012-10-09T20:54:00.001-07:002012-10-09T20:54:34.402-07:00Fox Theatre Field TripAmber had a field trip today to the Fox Theatre. They got to here this man play this Wurlitzer Organ...one of only 2 still used in the U.S. He played "It's a Small World" which she said "Amy would have loved this. Also, "Take Me Out to the Ballgame" and "America the Beautiful" which we call "Amber's song" because it has her name in it. She requested a pen so she could get his autograph. It was very cute and I could tell she was impressed. <br />
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We went on stage at the Fox Theatre! I tried telling the girls to take a bow, but they said "no thanks". That would have been very uncool, apparently. <br />
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We went backstage and saw all the graffiti walls and the dressing rooms. We went in the basement, under the stage and saw a lot more graffiti as well as tunnels that the actors/actresses use to get from one side of the stage to the other.<br />
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The tour took us to the very last row of the Fox Theatre and pointed out some of the very cool architecture and design. <br />
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Amber asked me tonight if I enjoyed the field trip. I thoroughly enjoyed it, and explained what a once in a lifetime opportunity it was to see everything that we did. Her response...well just sign up for a tour again.<div class="separator"style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjKtUjaNahOIPWn2hhNWJ1Oyc8N-oZsI6mIt2orqcYQbf9re7BxFgvaeVf_WEGvBDMedvkLhwdXWSjwdWmKV0DrIfZjn67INh2Qoa5odE6grj5_0g5e1ReVg0yAZEl7r4RjN2VdHhsPucsy/s640/blogger-image-893428789.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjKtUjaNahOIPWn2hhNWJ1Oyc8N-oZsI6mIt2orqcYQbf9re7BxFgvaeVf_WEGvBDMedvkLhwdXWSjwdWmKV0DrIfZjn67INh2Qoa5odE6grj5_0g5e1ReVg0yAZEl7r4RjN2VdHhsPucsy/s640/blogger-image-893428789.jpg" /></a></div><div class="separator"style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgSnbhr1gbbpjnsXKXzVudsgXE8L7Xod5hKcQmRwQtcEbUdC-aV88Wu3hgu9NMqKjKtFuA2QET0hMIcmrds9C-W63jM1-3FRtSMfymaeb6h33qlv8xgI0TCyIJNEhZtsGsVrj1AJ_DtjSDQ/s640/blogger-image-1244483558.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgSnbhr1gbbpjnsXKXzVudsgXE8L7Xod5hKcQmRwQtcEbUdC-aV88Wu3hgu9NMqKjKtFuA2QET0hMIcmrds9C-W63jM1-3FRtSMfymaeb6h33qlv8xgI0TCyIJNEhZtsGsVrj1AJ_DtjSDQ/s640/blogger-image-1244483558.jpg" /></a></div><div class="separator"style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiqIBR9liEnU6AAQhc_uijFbljHNx6nCJhi6bNyRVDRblDzC8fdS1vpU4608HTUdruW6EeW5dBScfycE8cm3KDuqJA_xJ5KzGq3gqlehlF378k4FqgKFhZBDMH-z6XJL_hRHhXc2tj3HK8Z/s640/blogger-image--1552337825.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiqIBR9liEnU6AAQhc_uijFbljHNx6nCJhi6bNyRVDRblDzC8fdS1vpU4608HTUdruW6EeW5dBScfycE8cm3KDuqJA_xJ5KzGq3gqlehlF378k4FqgKFhZBDMH-z6XJL_hRHhXc2tj3HK8Z/s640/blogger-image--1552337825.jpg" /></a></div><div class="separator"style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg5hIjmY5hrAhqu0E4iCd9tIrvCKzzZsmBJsDqpkHnNK_EDvGnYXeLhn1xNwJOXgLKcb9VD4m6z4ckZnfXPUp5Fg4G87UDE5b2fI0o9ZhfVhjn0pRlEVZKfVYLSXCm0qgB9GG6JP4KaH6rW/s640/blogger-image-170410990.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg5hIjmY5hrAhqu0E4iCd9tIrvCKzzZsmBJsDqpkHnNK_EDvGnYXeLhn1xNwJOXgLKcb9VD4m6z4ckZnfXPUp5Fg4G87UDE5b2fI0o9ZhfVhjn0pRlEVZKfVYLSXCm0qgB9GG6JP4KaH6rW/s640/blogger-image-170410990.jpg" /></a></div><div class="separator"style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjgHYjOQlIQ1J8LdLg6fvIqsmAw11si4dmjCh9fGI0BgnP1jDmjoqHpNHeVgKNG6Kh0vLwnqEvOjYIny4PB-lCv0QEapWlIK8r-ILI-_stJxeA9iZ2n8Ev7df_VDiWfJ1dilQABaAZSDCL0/s640/blogger-image-2067516239.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjgHYjOQlIQ1J8LdLg6fvIqsmAw11si4dmjCh9fGI0BgnP1jDmjoqHpNHeVgKNG6Kh0vLwnqEvOjYIny4PB-lCv0QEapWlIK8r-ILI-_stJxeA9iZ2n8Ev7df_VDiWfJ1dilQABaAZSDCL0/s640/blogger-image-2067516239.jpg" /></a></div><div class="separator"style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjg9T8xfa2UUnXdcItcR94VxqZkI8LDkx9uAoaitbq1UImdCL3de4vsjryV57gKLT42FBmiaP5clTcZaxQaFxjGDIaEvJjqUXzhLAdVWmtzQJiTCLlbEN9BxhTuM9haq0eBchCRUVZ-LO3-/s640/blogger-image-1808291338.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjg9T8xfa2UUnXdcItcR94VxqZkI8LDkx9uAoaitbq1UImdCL3de4vsjryV57gKLT42FBmiaP5clTcZaxQaFxjGDIaEvJjqUXzhLAdVWmtzQJiTCLlbEN9BxhTuM9haq0eBchCRUVZ-LO3-/s640/blogger-image-1808291338.jpg" /></a></div><div class="separator"style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEikPC-KAWigdzFfiUiWKjwy7p4j4aiGLoqaZywVahvoOE2C5HH4cpMAFMsXWszz3X1WuaW_LLNEZrFvtZlkNN1ind7zaI37UnGo_Tbyj29mTSD4WKYvE2c7km6l9dVljCIAj8U_w55Ln0S4/s640/blogger-image-450345021.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEikPC-KAWigdzFfiUiWKjwy7p4j4aiGLoqaZywVahvoOE2C5HH4cpMAFMsXWszz3X1WuaW_LLNEZrFvtZlkNN1ind7zaI37UnGo_Tbyj29mTSD4WKYvE2c7km6l9dVljCIAj8U_w55Ln0S4/s640/blogger-image-450345021.jpg" /></a></div><div class="separator"style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgd0x7_Vu8QqCUS4R7XyrsT9Ka_BXlwDf21E70YNFxQBYEo5pRmxqM3W-82UV3JVTKKxlN011diUgIrJPBvcfoOVgkQ0YQouZ-GVBPCEUSw-rBAMTiuvx1WcHE5Kp8yg7fGJfYcPSDQIcOp/s640/blogger-image-243522025.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgd0x7_Vu8QqCUS4R7XyrsT9Ka_BXlwDf21E70YNFxQBYEo5pRmxqM3W-82UV3JVTKKxlN011diUgIrJPBvcfoOVgkQ0YQouZ-GVBPCEUSw-rBAMTiuvx1WcHE5Kp8yg7fGJfYcPSDQIcOp/s640/blogger-image-243522025.jpg" /></a></div>Millihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03108568189694186960noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7845916567562798272.post-67444693360546176692012-06-11T14:23:00.001-07:002012-06-11T14:23:21.029-07:00Pen Pal NotebookI saw the cutest Idea on Pinterest. A homeschooling mom uses this notebook as a way to work on writing skills with her kids. I thought it would be a great way to communicate with mine. <br />
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I hope they write back. I am only a little excited to leave these on their pillows tonight!<br />
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<div class="separator"style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhWVaxtVJBLwixX-ngqFYB3w-Xqdp5EV37tHyQhobRcVsSG3u03-VRC-7b9kL6KPFnGiRagJk_2S48nt_Zgb16OW7TYf_1zO7nUuPu6KJyX3Y-a7mWGf3BAH0AN7x0ngG_G782ibg4ujArj/s640/blogger-image--1704853684.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhWVaxtVJBLwixX-ngqFYB3w-Xqdp5EV37tHyQhobRcVsSG3u03-VRC-7b9kL6KPFnGiRagJk_2S48nt_Zgb16OW7TYf_1zO7nUuPu6KJyX3Y-a7mWGf3BAH0AN7x0ngG_G782ibg4ujArj/s640/blogger-image--1704853684.jpg" /></a></div><div class="separator"style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhSqT142JImxI-0ERUvd2SUC1-jTFHw0xzOWhLiYIDgR0mOpNXhCvON2tGfwqy7yFrP7WPjtwCA0UzRZbk00mLxKseG4V50ORIbLp4xsoXim0XsefNao6eV67NSKuFRkTUy4MSul7809_Xp/s640/blogger-image-952253910.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhSqT142JImxI-0ERUvd2SUC1-jTFHw0xzOWhLiYIDgR0mOpNXhCvON2tGfwqy7yFrP7WPjtwCA0UzRZbk00mLxKseG4V50ORIbLp4xsoXim0XsefNao6eV67NSKuFRkTUy4MSul7809_Xp/s640/blogger-image-952253910.jpg" /></a></div>Millihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03108568189694186960noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7845916567562798272.post-17442030302471895142011-11-26T15:55:00.001-08:002011-11-26T15:56:31.305-08:00Locks of LoveOne thing that I have always wanted to do (well, maybe the last 10 years or so, not always) is grow my hair out long enough to donate it to Locks of Love. Locks of Love is a charity organization that makes wigs/hairpieces for children who do not have hair due to a chronic medical condition. Some have cancer, but not all. You can read more about Locks of Love here: http://www.locksoflove.org/<br />
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I have been growing my hair out for about 2 years now. It always seems to come to a stand still that I can't get over. But this time I powered though. I decided it was time. <br />
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I finally mailed my ponytailed pieces of hair off today. I am so proud of myself. I would definitely do it again. <br />
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P.S. If you get your haircut at Great Clips, they will cut your hair for free if you are donating. <br />
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<div class="separator"style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjJEIahai7ry6O2gi3GqZC3rPopdhCml9uR9WJwG4AEHgkL_yNPzOWTqvSce5Jf7kafQBIIt7-AGUi4-chTo83hygbCidzVQYU92uKBOQ7iiK2pAeARgDRo4U0f93UU5FZAbFPmSIRcXmHb/s640/blogger-image-511742931.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjJEIahai7ry6O2gi3GqZC3rPopdhCml9uR9WJwG4AEHgkL_yNPzOWTqvSce5Jf7kafQBIIt7-AGUi4-chTo83hygbCidzVQYU92uKBOQ7iiK2pAeARgDRo4U0f93UU5FZAbFPmSIRcXmHb/s640/blogger-image-511742931.jpg" /></a></div><div class="separator"style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhhJvmr6B4OFp7SvJegvGgTwt5uwyibkfbjaRFAqiNFb3ndkBgGdZp0-t-AKe9cXD-74KxramJA_BjXfymETIbmTR1pfDwsXb3KEU7DXF7BsYGkK4T-NlbF6GwVWq1XbPKauiTuwyHfmPKc/s640/blogger-image--684259034.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhhJvmr6B4OFp7SvJegvGgTwt5uwyibkfbjaRFAqiNFb3ndkBgGdZp0-t-AKe9cXD-74KxramJA_BjXfymETIbmTR1pfDwsXb3KEU7DXF7BsYGkK4T-NlbF6GwVWq1XbPKauiTuwyHfmPKc/s640/blogger-image--684259034.jpg" /></a></div>Millihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03108568189694186960noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7845916567562798272.post-23452822044928222542011-09-11T09:28:00.000-07:002011-09-11T12:43:34.860-07:00Where were you when the world stopped turning......on that September day.<br />
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10 years. Wow, I cannot believe it has been 10 years. I was working at NIMA at the time. I was listening to my radio, and I kept thinking the disc jockeys were pulling a prank, and I thought it was pretty silly. After about 10 seconds, I realized it was not a joke and walked down stairs to the only tv in the building that streamed CNN all the time. I thought that it had to be an accident. No other thought even crossed my mind. I went back to my office to continue preparing for the day. I am wondering now, why I was at work so early. I didn't typically get there until 9:00. I don't remember how I learned that a second plane hit, or the pentagon. But I know that once I knew, I was scared. I was on a government base after all. I called my dad and asked him how they were going to evacuate all those people. I called Dave who was working in a building nearby and we agreed to meet for a walk. When I walked into the building where Dave worked, so many people were gathered arou d the little tv in the lobby. No one could believe what was happening. There was a rumor that a fourth plane was out there. We went outside, the thing I remember most is how beautiful it was outside. The FAA at this point had grounded all planes, and there was not a cloud in the sky, not a cloud or con trail in the sky, the sky was awesomely blue. I wasn't watching when either tower fell. I can recall being on lockdown. No one was allowed to leave. I remember seeing a guard walking outside with an automatic weapon. I was terrified. At some point, I am assuming once all the planes were accounted for, we were off lockdown. I knew I was not going to be able to work, so I went home. I was glued to the tv for days.Millihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03108568189694186960noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7845916567562798272.post-90014698987663536492011-07-25T07:06:00.000-07:002011-07-25T07:06:38.795-07:00Reading ChallengeI love to read. It is such a part of my life that when people ask me about my hobbies, I never even mention reading. I will read anything and I get so sucked into what I am reading that I tune out everything around me. <br />
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I want this love of books to be passed on to the girls, so I encourage them to read. Amber's a good reader, started to read at about age 3 1/2, but can't be bothered with it when there are so many other things going on. Amy is reading at her grade/age level, but gets frustrated when she doesn't know a word. I am hoping that though encouragement and example that they learn to love to read as much as I do. <br />
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So here comes the reading challenge...I challenged them to a reading competition for one week. For every 10 minutes of reading each of us (including Dave and I) does, we get to put a sticker on a chart (that Amber made instead of reading). Amy gets stickers for reading on her own, or sitting and listening to someone read to her, whoever reading to her gets the sticker as well.<br />
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Our challenge ends on Friday at midnight, so I'll do my best to remember posting how many minutes we did total.Millihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03108568189694186960noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7845916567562798272.post-91272185575640329702011-06-15T11:51:00.000-07:002011-06-15T11:51:17.506-07:00A Day in Amy's BrainHave you ever wondered what goes on in your child's head? I am always wondering this about Amy. Take this conversation that we had in the car today, it is a completely typical conversation with her.<br />
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Amy: When we were still in school, my friend Carter took a vacation.<br />
Me: he did? (Me thinking a weekend in Chicago)<br />
Amy: He brought pictures to school to show us.<br />
Me: what did he bring pictures of?<br />
Amy: well I don't remember all of them, but one was a picture of a really big cactus.<br />
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WHAT? Why are there cacti in Illinois? Did she mean a different state? Or did she completely make this up?<br />
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Once again I am left dumbfounded by a conversation with her. Amy is probably the one person that can end a conversation with me not having a response.Millihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03108568189694186960noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7845916567562798272.post-56902531082465528912011-03-01T13:52:00.000-08:002011-03-01T13:52:22.100-08:00Judging a Book By It's CoverI realize I have not posted for a while. Imagine that life keeps me busy and that I don't have time to sit down at the computer to type...dad's surgery, holidays, vacation, mom's surgery, sick kids...blah, blah, blah...<br />
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But today I have a nagging headache, and it's one of those days that I have got something on my mind that I can not seem to shake. GOSSIP...RUMORS...PASSING JUDGEMENT<br />
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Should it really bother me that someone said something to someone else who then told someone else something about me...well not really something about me, but basically, that the original someone doesn't care for me? The reasons that the person doesn't care for me don't even matter. I have probably spoken to the original person a total of 5 times in my life. And never about myself...well I guess maybe it was...I always talk about my kids.<br />
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So, why do I feel like I need to defend myself in my head? Isn't that ridiculous that it should stick with me? <br />
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I really don't care if people talk about me, actually I think it is kind of funny...I really lead a very boring life, I have a few friends, but I don't go partying and socializing non-stop. It's just not me. My life revolves around God, my kids and my husband. Maybe it should revolve around keeping my house clean, that would probably make my husband happy. <br />
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But in the mean time, if I meet someone I don't think I like, I think I will take the opportunity to get to know them a little better. Usually, that is all it takes with me.Millihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03108568189694186960noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7845916567562798272.post-53719439162426935592010-11-30T11:27:00.000-08:002010-11-30T11:27:03.392-08:00Head InjuryWhile Amy has had her fair share of ER visits, Amber has not. Amy, my daring second child, broke her finger and had five stitches at 7 months old. Amy has had a few sick ER visits as well. But Amber, my ever-cautious child, has not been to the ER, not even a sick visit. That was until a few weeks ago. <br />
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While enjoying one of the last nice days of the season, just getting ready to wrap things up to come in for dinner. Amber tripped and hit her head on this rock (see top corner of old picture).<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgNIkOiYv_9dsUrOACCcVTYHaqHsBOlnXH9VrGI19Eu4c-VujB7dQZsU6SZLIbhmlMHedPIIZbe9mNZCSmeGUbMbuHs8KWmJyuiC5OM5lUB2uDdL63iCcBhUu_r2h5dYsHQpXy-fkLL9VYs/s1600/543.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" ox="true" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgNIkOiYv_9dsUrOACCcVTYHaqHsBOlnXH9VrGI19Eu4c-VujB7dQZsU6SZLIbhmlMHedPIIZbe9mNZCSmeGUbMbuHs8KWmJyuiC5OM5lUB2uDdL63iCcBhUu_r2h5dYsHQpXy-fkLL9VYs/s320/543.jpg" width="320" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">I saw her come up holding her head, and was ready for serious blood. Surprisingly, there was not a lot of blood, but her head was cut open. She handled it pretty well, until I mentioned that we needed to go to the hospital. </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">We were seen very quickly at the hospital. The nurses and triage were so nice. She was shaking, I think out of nervousness and the chill, so they brought her a warmed blanket.</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh8ESWFOTWO0xdV4Aq1JtmdsQn35thhIPN820SltkBzhOyfcHxDeTBKOzfI2ybdyGsybzN9tHo1sTUsNVL7ks5RHnnMiubppRN0YTMPFTISbEO65hhYQdeZ5x4DULKYspGW-I7PLJVm1hrI/s1600/Amber%2527s+head+injury.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" ox="true" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh8ESWFOTWO0xdV4Aq1JtmdsQn35thhIPN820SltkBzhOyfcHxDeTBKOzfI2ybdyGsybzN9tHo1sTUsNVL7ks5RHnnMiubppRN0YTMPFTISbEO65hhYQdeZ5x4DULKYspGW-I7PLJVm1hrI/s320/Amber%2527s+head+injury.jpg" width="240" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">As it turned out, no stitches were necessary, just some glue. The doctor cleaned her up, glued her boo-boo closed and we were on our way. Here she is with a freshly glued head!</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiUBfcqds-waCPxA7cddFtydDwVZclpsJQQ7Sd570VhY-lC-TJfNpNbNMpg-ANlBR9s-Zv8LfSg8LNKzBwHk5Daq6hgEUXdwN0Xf6EktGSXLkLWmbPORFU2rlKDmovHgAO1brHdILNUOlVB/s1600/amber%2527s+head+injury2.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" ox="true" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiUBfcqds-waCPxA7cddFtydDwVZclpsJQQ7Sd570VhY-lC-TJfNpNbNMpg-ANlBR9s-Zv8LfSg8LNKzBwHk5Daq6hgEUXdwN0Xf6EktGSXLkLWmbPORFU2rlKDmovHgAO1brHdILNUOlVB/s320/amber%2527s+head+injury2.jpg" width="240" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br />
</div>Millihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03108568189694186960noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7845916567562798272.post-52485156433171197222010-10-26T19:04:00.000-07:002010-10-26T19:04:00.138-07:00Amy's 1st Field Trip<div style="text-align: center;"></div><div style="text-align: center;">Amy had her first field trip to the Pumpkin Patch last week. Her field trip buddy was her "<em>friend</em>" Morgan. Amy has been trying to ask Morgan to be her friend for weeks now. She says she wants Morgan to be her friend because "she's the only one like me". </div><div style="text-align: center;">Interpreted, she is quiet, very quiet, as quiet as Amy. </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg7wFb0LrM8Eiwm_RbX6WRekWvBHRsa9z79v7SXBy_aiFF3ZHcEFHTOOJ0Nu1Gp4k9eWqspFHb3QKT0rYmOr3uU8uHB0e5OoIsDTZqXIp2VLki5sns728Dq9HP_4G98MDt9k6VZjlqbzQaT/s1600/078.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" nx="true" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg7wFb0LrM8Eiwm_RbX6WRekWvBHRsa9z79v7SXBy_aiFF3ZHcEFHTOOJ0Nu1Gp4k9eWqspFHb3QKT0rYmOr3uU8uHB0e5OoIsDTZqXIp2VLki5sns728Dq9HP_4G98MDt9k6VZjlqbzQaT/s320/078.JPG" width="320" /></a></div><div style="text-align: center;">Having the quiet girls definitely makes chaperoning a field trip easy. They just smile and nod their heads in agreement with whatever.</div><div style="text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgeh5Mf2dABsrirjxDRwOtUMhDZKfYeyk4dC53vnXL2FiD_MJZSh8Eo0zD1TOqa4tul76mKyb2b0dwfD9_vxkwNbRFcMJC4A0VFGmFuIh1AChm7sKceSssre8gp5NqoVfe5QzOOlsu6C0m_/s1600/081.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" nx="true" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgeh5Mf2dABsrirjxDRwOtUMhDZKfYeyk4dC53vnXL2FiD_MJZSh8Eo0zD1TOqa4tul76mKyb2b0dwfD9_vxkwNbRFcMJC4A0VFGmFuIh1AChm7sKceSssre8gp5NqoVfe5QzOOlsu6C0m_/s320/081.JPG" width="320" /></a></div><div style="text-align: center;"><br />
</div>Millihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03108568189694186960noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7845916567562798272.post-10928968789890142632010-10-25T16:21:00.000-07:002010-10-25T16:21:00.373-07:00Elephant Rock<div style="text-align: center;"></div><div class="separator" style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none; clear: both; text-align: center;">It has become a tradition for us to make a yearly autumn trip to Elephant Rock. Last week, Grandma, Grandpa and Uncle Greg were visiting so we included them on our trip. Unfortunately, the leaves weren't quite turned yet, but it was still a beautiful day. </div><div style="text-align: center;"></div><div style="text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiSZYaOWhIAAU7qK528rRiQPp34IKZxzUC_EDzen4Et2-UKsUvq6-nNrZKAmG-HOH3Y1mkJirjarAx6U2t2OYHxNNinY8DM_tdrrTLOvMA5FUUhoWlJ3_iHgJLvo3u7JecKjPjNjNswTl9y/s1600/033.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" nx="true" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiSZYaOWhIAAU7qK528rRiQPp34IKZxzUC_EDzen4Et2-UKsUvq6-nNrZKAmG-HOH3Y1mkJirjarAx6U2t2OYHxNNinY8DM_tdrrTLOvMA5FUUhoWlJ3_iHgJLvo3u7JecKjPjNjNswTl9y/s320/033.JPG" width="320" /></a></div><div style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none; text-align: center;"></div><div style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none; text-align: center;"><br />
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</div><div class="separator" style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none; clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiMKwVrrupRu7JEemNCJG9l2LcpW3OsBtS_rOcAxbr2-XzKVguwuon2JafeUUv62QSpJWaJiRDH51hbYSuDPVgfdzuhAk6IelmBFgzEGfYYbEvYPrLekOVai07MRNc3ldKVdrsppx8HXW30/s1600/038.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" nx="true" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiMKwVrrupRu7JEemNCJG9l2LcpW3OsBtS_rOcAxbr2-XzKVguwuon2JafeUUv62QSpJWaJiRDH51hbYSuDPVgfdzuhAk6IelmBFgzEGfYYbEvYPrLekOVai07MRNc3ldKVdrsppx8HXW30/s320/038.JPG" width="240" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjCPGzVpQGj0Ii_m2_OK3GUa5lTGzq0OAAB5jPpWQsQl88Qk6uwd7Vw9k2AGxQDrNGAFw7pZSwAxFJQyfaHczwhPxmReZ6Nmjjlsu2oQ_5SweEj22yu0zJ73MZl37gu10lurCfqiwKWxwKm/s1600/047.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" nx="true" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjCPGzVpQGj0Ii_m2_OK3GUa5lTGzq0OAAB5jPpWQsQl88Qk6uwd7Vw9k2AGxQDrNGAFw7pZSwAxFJQyfaHczwhPxmReZ6Nmjjlsu2oQ_5SweEj22yu0zJ73MZl37gu10lurCfqiwKWxwKm/s320/047.JPG" width="240" /></a></div><div style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none; text-align: center;"> </div><div style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none; text-align: center;">While Amber was busy climbing, Amy kept her eye on Grandma and Grandpa.</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg_cAQWOyl4qGn_q66SgKOgz5iWv6qZPnj3WcdzP7tFlQVu9gDR9-77LN3MkqIVpYXwnR3Hn7pYZaXazPbGrLtS23LF7yEagl9ZOGO-5ipAVwn2YRHw-7ukjk_NXBKZD9oKesgIogQklvQ3/s1600/051.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" nx="true" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg_cAQWOyl4qGn_q66SgKOgz5iWv6qZPnj3WcdzP7tFlQVu9gDR9-77LN3MkqIVpYXwnR3Hn7pYZaXazPbGrLtS23LF7yEagl9ZOGO-5ipAVwn2YRHw-7ukjk_NXBKZD9oKesgIogQklvQ3/s320/051.JPG" width="240" /></a></div><div style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none; text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none; text-align: center;">Amber came home with a few scrapes, but only because she thinks she can do everything dad and Uncle Greg do. Too bad, dad and Uncle Greg shouldn't do the things they do.</div><div style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none; text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none; clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj9e8anWBHvSI49UNZNNUUTgYb1ovRbsP6OQeaVXrSd9gSwQ8AwfvE-hJ3f7NjXO-_RvPwfmEuqw7HfTOgDTQ6CeJKMRtKnPyvRwTdumJjrrvg6TSXQW5fl30-HGN2yezRft5t55plY_1ot/s1600/034.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; cssfloat: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" nx="true" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj9e8anWBHvSI49UNZNNUUTgYb1ovRbsP6OQeaVXrSd9gSwQ8AwfvE-hJ3f7NjXO-_RvPwfmEuqw7HfTOgDTQ6CeJKMRtKnPyvRwTdumJjrrvg6TSXQW5fl30-HGN2yezRft5t55plY_1ot/s320/034.JPG" width="240" /></a><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg3yT0GfI12f_V7UEfEGTWpyycGtrCcfdh7ZAOQ0QDNY5yO8wCfrRr_Znf4gNm0QRKK0j-sBsTipgRyWvy5kmIswvDeyC-zGfXeFjYA-VJkoqtVDUvYCnhoBYsmrQDbhyphenhypheniZ_SumrKhx0htf/s1600/065.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" nx="true" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg3yT0GfI12f_V7UEfEGTWpyycGtrCcfdh7ZAOQ0QDNY5yO8wCfrRr_Znf4gNm0QRKK0j-sBsTipgRyWvy5kmIswvDeyC-zGfXeFjYA-VJkoqtVDUvYCnhoBYsmrQDbhyphenhypheniZ_SumrKhx0htf/s320/065.JPG" width="320" /></a></div>Millihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03108568189694186960noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7845916567562798272.post-34074822948167473872010-10-24T16:17:00.000-07:002010-10-24T16:17:41.091-07:00Is there anything better?<div style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Is there anything better than your kids being <em>best friends</em> with your <em>best friend's</em> kids? </span></div><div style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">I LOVE IT! </span></div><div style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">But maybe it is because all FIVE of these kids have AWESOME parents!</span></div><br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgkP8tzQAd8faaoxlCBhvWGZ-Tx8gbfRxjfQcRY3i5WOstqwQUaJJt6jXQD5D4YdbRJ_f5aBOwKYzp5kPc6k1Z-CMzTZuZ4IyjqDshOADsJ8oQwcXjcSzE65rBEvrOxLiK6E5bUFxvx5zA1/s1600/003.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" nx="true" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgkP8tzQAd8faaoxlCBhvWGZ-Tx8gbfRxjfQcRY3i5WOstqwQUaJJt6jXQD5D4YdbRJ_f5aBOwKYzp5kPc6k1Z-CMzTZuZ4IyjqDshOADsJ8oQwcXjcSzE65rBEvrOxLiK6E5bUFxvx5zA1/s320/003.JPG" width="320" /></a></div><br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhiKDwMmh0lSl-A-aImhhs-xcXE4UpOUWl6irtD-1Dkn7aGV_b_fVUGsZFiIPpgQjAly1nKzGyZ6QRXvJjWO9LxhEaONMBVRbmH01tQXSBJQjLUkOkLIUjyRrZ8d7GYiNj0OX4rK9Tf8RvK/s1600/004.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" nx="true" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhiKDwMmh0lSl-A-aImhhs-xcXE4UpOUWl6irtD-1Dkn7aGV_b_fVUGsZFiIPpgQjAly1nKzGyZ6QRXvJjWO9LxhEaONMBVRbmH01tQXSBJQjLUkOkLIUjyRrZ8d7GYiNj0OX4rK9Tf8RvK/s320/004.JPG" width="320" /></a></div>Millihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03108568189694186960noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7845916567562798272.post-84369891001097645772010-07-22T20:47:00.000-07:002010-07-26T10:41:22.738-07:00Does Anyone's House Really Look Like This?It appears that a toy store came in and vomited toys everywhere.<br /><br />We start with Ponyville in one corner of the dining room. No kidding the toy bin is literally right next to this. <img style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 240px; DISPLAY: block; HEIGHT: 320px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5498269874548242290" border="0" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiSOY0OaS-o8kmZ7P6Y5nUNhW1sIF3pBeXxa71FpqpUhC5sBFc_90flQzgYnD0zdSPjM0eNxtaZCPl-CwTwUNOIVBWpKvuWdZKU5DqsYl8JHejfgS4OuCAWxZ6A1cycZjm9DiaC0KKgw8Fz/s320/pony.jpg" /><br />Then of course we have Littlest Pet Shop of Horrors all over my fireplace.<br /><img style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 320px; DISPLAY: block; HEIGHT: 238px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5498270308894811330" border="0" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhn0V_xqpt4F3Ju5XkfA_glnwGnyFOSb6cUteUKy-XCEGJKKkXzfezmVvKluqwvEkwCUmx8Slka-AACE0YA62b-rEe0XLwMm_8h_eKEn8f3hyRuI8vioqtDilmrtfdk1SDygi7KeAj2CXu1/s320/lps.jpg" /><br />The doctor kit that I step on every time I walk into the living room.<br /><img style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 240px; DISPLAY: block; HEIGHT: 320px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5498270654435718370" border="0" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhB3zcvmITt8WsklkNn5b3zSXbSOgw-CuZ4AC1ezfsc-bYgZmoEAHw5kQeA6DxWBfTKdRtGwiaqZNev3d11FlhrcO8NmbpRZrzaPopYXON72vyMMbeB29t9bffqINTWr1SWQoLSuKA0ZcKX/s320/doctor.jpg" /><br />Anytime I ask that they take a few minutes to clean up, the response is "we're playing with that".<br /><br />I will give them credit though, they were actually playing with the Barbies. I am not kidding they ask for a new Barbie at every birthday and Christmas. I also think they have pro-created.<br /><img style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 240px; DISPLAY: block; HEIGHT: 320px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5498271078836220498" border="0" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhA-tvFwpBDzWKlW-ixd7sHbLgokJIG3CFFnjaL3GoUtaU8pGt_8QMvqojQgLuA3ApDRrpvhf_wDonIUBWojxzjH8UslDwsHIpO7JJkKmwPTvGX6gWIx3Uz1x3bpOc5XNlc6CfER-KpbWdd/s320/barbie.jpg" /><br />I know it looks like a mess to most, but really, and I mean really, I am going to miss this in a few years.Millihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03108568189694186960noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7845916567562798272.post-48986658181389079532010-07-05T14:59:00.000-07:002010-07-05T15:13:24.465-07:00Our 1st Dance Recital<div align="center">Who can believe that this toothless little angel would LOVE to get on stage and dance in front of an audience? She does...and she actually does a pretty good job. <img style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 240px; DISPLAY: block; HEIGHT: 320px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5490547001127730226" border="0" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjceB84s7yNI3S3VfrIXJ5Tx42_6ZuMCOTNtvkYyziY3kjFHz-FAGkevQufrteJRXPB9BDWLE3MBVu4sn6fPEZ4BQCjUUXdtqeNt1JDRZ6Oovf8TnezBgnmr3tdsP4C6G9meSfBh26qGYr5/s320/050.JPG" /><br /><div><div><img style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 240px; DISPLAY: block; HEIGHT: 320px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5490546220080291458" border="0" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgbcHQQBkFwZnh2G3UaSN7kE6H2GbLkAfb_z2nipzKBO7lH0TaJMhODyP2fjqWEfRQ_h-cBhiZW-ZU4cFoShPOKmAVQ7_6RW3VBo4S_jLuorHOvjr_dbTGEQOc-3iv_U3ZCRS4mp15hVec8/s320/024.JPG" /><br /><div>Trust me, her coordination does not come from me. But she follows directions SO well, that she does really good. </div><img style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 240px; DISPLAY: block; HEIGHT: 320px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5490546750023258098" border="0" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjqoBnUjk7k8SBQ2oicZUJWOd2sz5zajyuMzKNGy0TGM6JdMa1sDf0Vg5LKQYmgGdzDjM5An2ErAmGTQ0siUES1e3e-_vUw6yCv0u7SxiYFKl0QL0B8emcTZcZwiFiUwK6DbzSy6L6iFaMH/s320/038.JPG" /> Her dance class was small, only four girls, but that was a perfect fit.<br /><br /><img style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 240px; DISPLAY: block; HEIGHT: 320px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5490548102744617810" border="0" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj7Hy0vTLv1AabESHfLM4MfZeFl4Y1aIJwKEpw1wf0b9H5Vk4rmpXM-g-L_8b4NbMCNXXI5Ciavwt6mE_FEDuUgYXHNH54PtoIYoGnkWz0wv58_kxOTaIQv5xYU2nqp_yhYVuQK7md9DYbz/s320/IMG_6082.JPG" />I think Amy was a little jealous of the costume. She insists that she is going to take dance in the fall. We'll see.<img style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 320px; DISPLAY: block; HEIGHT: 240px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5490547500507676626" border="0" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi1HqyPgE9fI7Rel-Q-4c5jvwpq2_C3-oE-gtCwwwtT2x_V0xXQ159UV0Eg2j1JgzQ83Yn3Bwg_kaO3-45gdv9VjBjHpR1Nys5QBHU-lZYmMjSn1CSUSfVzJkSP8Falm8WuNHoD_LGcROfO/s320/052.JPG" /></div></div></div>Millihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03108568189694186960noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7845916567562798272.post-88776901641875725922010-07-05T14:30:00.000-07:002010-07-05T14:47:51.743-07:00Start of SummerWe have had a busy summer so far...but it is so much fun! I really HATE that July is here already which means less time before school starts. I know many people love sending their kids back to school, but I am not one of them. I like to have control over my day, and when school is in session, I no longer have control. Of course, the fact that I will be sending Amy to Kindergarten all day every day doesn't help anything, but I am determined not to think about that. <div><div></div><br /><div>So, the girls started the summer with Fox Junior Warriorette Pom Pom Camp. They were a little unsure of it a first, but only because they had no idea what Pom Pom camp was. They learned a bunch of dances, got t-shirts and ribbons and they both even won Spirit Awards. </div><img style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 320px; DISPLAY: block; HEIGHT: 240px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5490541935481199202" border="0" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjYuMyC8e7NRvDuxMBFEMbsw3JHGVdI_3AmAg8nFF42uJpxIvpcc89luWdnqiYSfDUYkRB1DJwVO9aXuhgOAl7s4buMm7HloK1S46Am2w8Lzg89Yy8hedj7mQCklpjaa9keVbsjSHm-Qtgl/s320/021.JPG" /><br /><div></div><div>Funny story about those Spirit Awards. Back when my niece attended her first dancing camp, (she now dances on a competitive traveling dance team called Utopia), she was so disappointed that she wasn't chosen to win the "spirit award". I tried to take away her disappointment like any good aunt would, and I told her, "The girls that win spirit awards are the girls that can't dance. They win the awards to make them feel better." I am not sure if she believed me or not, but that little bit of advice came back and bit me, when my girls attend their first camp and win "Spirit Awards".</div><br /><div></div><div>As usual, I have the quiet girls, and Amy was one of the younger girls, so she and this teenager (I have no idea what her name was, because neither of my girls asked her name.) clung together all week. Every time I'd get there early to watch, this girl was either carrying Amy or Amy was sitting on her lap. </div><img style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 320px; DISPLAY: block; HEIGHT: 240px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5490541386117143842" border="0" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhP1rY4fj8ElkIVcU9vAJmoWZUSwphb1Gd0eGhFMGxDYTQxXupEDzhu9C4LELXglIYwXl8jVGVuanrzAs5RlXjUQIBH1Axj2vrgEHWyPVNrygbkAeGULKOuSd4iB4Or_ir6KLbA1aY7SvZI/s320/005.JPG" /><br /><div>They had a great week, and they are looking forward to attending again next year. Especially since their "spirit awards" were free registration for next year.</div><br /><br /><div></div><br /><br /><div></div></div>Millihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03108568189694186960noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7845916567562798272.post-54410954712299995902010-06-23T10:55:00.000-07:002010-06-23T11:13:35.328-07:00Favorites and Not FavoritesMy cousin, <a href="http://furnamom.blogspot.com/">http://furnamom.blogspot.com/</a> , who writes an incredible blog and has gorgeous children by the way, posted this on her blog and I decided to copy. Feel free to let me know your "<span style="color:#660000;">favorites and not favorites</span>" in the comments!!!<br /><br /><div align="center"><span style="font-size:180%;"><u><span style="color:#660000;">My Favorites:</span></u> </span></div><ul><li><div align="center">Summer days when my kiddos are home</div></li><li><div align="center">Fresh and local fruits and veggies</div></li><li><div align="center">Little girl dresses</div></li><li><div align="center">All kiddos, not just my own</div></li><li><div align="center">Cooking new things that EVERYONE likes</div></li><li><div align="center">Singing</div></li><li><div align="center">Shopping for my girls</div></li><li><div align="center">Talking on the phone to Andrea</div></li><li><div align="center">Talking on the phone to Sherry</div></li><li><div align="center">Talking in general...LOL</div></li><li><div align="center">Laughing</div></li><li><div align="center">Bible Study fellowship</div></li></ul><div align="center"></div><div align="center"><u><span style="font-size:180%;color:#660000;">Not Favorites:</span></u></div><ul><li><div align="center">Sending kiddos to school</div></li><li><div align="center">Sending my little one to kindergarten this year</div></li><li><div align="center">Hearing "I'm hungry" 5 minutes after meal </div></li><li><div align="center">Crabby and sassy 6 year olds</div></li><li><div align="center">Coming up with ideas for dinner</div></li><li><div align="center">Putting on shorts that keep getting tighter</div></li><li><div align="center">Shopping for clothes for me</div></li><li><div align="center">Grocery store<br />Getting gas</div></li><li><div align="center">Cleaning house</div></li><li><div align="center">Crying</div></li></ul>Millihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03108568189694186960noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7845916567562798272.post-49712422850933095462010-05-31T15:16:00.000-07:002010-06-17T09:21:19.523-07:00Pierced Ears<div align="center">Almost 2 months ago, when Amber was on Spring Break, I told the girls we could do something special. Anything they wanted to do. Somehow the idea of pierced ears came up. Both girls were so excited. They were both going to go and get their ears pierced. It was all they talked about all night. The next morning, Amy says, "I don't want to get my ears pierced." Not shocking at all. I kept waiting for Amber to back out as well.<br /></div><br /><div align="center"></div><div align="center">I called a couple of places at the mall to find out when they would have 2 people on the schedule that would be able to do ear piercings. One person to do each side at the same time. I learned that from my neighbors little girl. Grandma took the girl to get her ears pierced and came home with one pierced and there was no way she was going to sit in that chair again to have the other one done.<br /><br />On the way, we stopped at a beauty school and Amber got her hair trimmed and both got manicures. They thought they were hot stuff. Then off we went to the mall. I was still waiting for Amber to back out. We went in, she sat down while they marked her ears, and boom they punched those earrings through. Not a tear in her eye. <img style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 240px; DISPLAY: block; HEIGHT: 320px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5483778116259303410" border="0" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg0NelAB2iYMp9j_xjo98uzVyKjW1rZosflqe7NCUImeI_KKpZjs8O9toXR6cLV-NUWaBhG4e1uBzh-e08L9Zb_RbXDu_aoAUNvKxN2_9Tk4Rg-aNhVFsMf3w5ZkMMuKCqEX77pk9Kl3RVm/s320/amber1.jpg" /></div><div>She did so good keeping them clean and turning them. She is a bit obsessive with rules like that. She was SO excited when it finally came time to change them. So Dave and I, loaded the girls into the car and went to 3 different stores before she picked out the "perfect" earrings. Once we got home, we decided to change them out. If I knew now what I didn't know then...YIKES! Amber is so skittish anyway, then add to that the fact that she was an ear infection baby and had her tubes removed in the ENT's office with the doctor, a nurse and myself holding her down. ANYTHING that has to do with her ears is a hairy situation. </div><br /><br /><br /><div></div><br /><br /><div>So the starter earrings are a little tougher to get out than I remember, but I got one out without too many tears. Amber insisted that we put the dolphin earrings in that she pick out, but more about that later. For some crazy reason I let her have all control. MISTAKE! Once she was given control there was NO WAY she was giving up...even if it meant sitting in the bathroom and sobbing for more than an hour. Which is exactly what she did. I stood back and patiently waited until she called me for help. I also gently reminded her that if she wanted my help all she had to do was ask. At some point she decided she didn't want the dolphin in after all, but she wanted the starters back in, in all her hysteria, I cold have cared less as long as this was all done. Long story short...one of the starters got dropped down the drain in the bathroom...new level of hysteria reached...dad intervened, mom got dolphin earrings in. </div><br /><br /><div></div><br /><br /><br /><div><span style="font-size:130%;color:#006600;">Lessons learned: 1. Don't give Amber more control than she can handle. 2. Dolphin earrings have fins that will poke into ears and cause nasty issues on little girls who wear their earrings too tight. 3. You can't see earrings from the front if your little girls has chuncky cheeks.</span></div><br /><br /><div></div><br /><br /><div><span style="font-size:85%;color:#ff0000;">P.S. I have pictures on my phone that I cannot figure out how to upload onto my blog. </span></div>Millihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03108568189694186960noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7845916567562798272.post-23316213980866937032010-05-28T20:51:00.000-07:002010-05-30T13:47:25.585-07:00Making Friends<div><div>I have wondered, since my girls were born, what kind of friends they would have. I was never one that had tons of friends, I was not the popular girl by any means. I did make some really good friends when I was in college. That is probably why I love that time in my life. But I am getting off the point. More often than not, I hung out with my sister's friends, who then became my friends. Over the past few years, I have learned that I really need my own friends. While I think it is very important for Amber and Amy to be friends with one another and play well together, I also think they need their own friends.<br /></div><br /><div>This past school year the girls both made friends with some really cute girls. Amber had play dates with a couple of girls from her class. One of which started calling her "Ambie", which I found hilarious. She was also really good friends with the boys in her class. Near the end of the school year, she started playing a lot with Presley. Presley, is an adorable little girl who is smart as a whip. She is VERY knowledgeable in regards to dinosaurs. Which has led Amber to be obsessed with dinosaurs. Everything we do now is dinosaur related in some way. Amber and Presley were partners on the field trip that their Kindergarten class took to Grant's Farm. In the picture, Presley was apparently Amber's pet Billy Goat. So, here it is summer time, and Amber's obsession with dinosaurs continues. </div><img style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 320px; DISPLAY: block; HEIGHT: 240px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5476540673214581602" border="0" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjNpLA7RA-Ly59OVUzZJ9KNGlliGBiF-CvM-5_B5hZuKPzUoM5zMxg3r9VM4JiYs1hixjdQluFXbSaogHwU3RsIbQMD4Nmjf6qOOpKlzRDb9-hKdYQmikGHYd2A1d9fFKraYR9nU4hfhfqw/s320/IMG_5833.JPG" /><br /><div></div><br /><div>Amy on the other hand, waited until the very end of the year to really befriend a sweet little girl in her class named Ava. She even invited Ava to her birthday party. Amy insists on holding Ava's had everywhere. I haven't really seen them have any conversations, but I am assuming that they do. Amy is pretty quiet, so for her to make a friend, it is a big deal. The bad news is that Ava and Amy will not be going to the same school next year. I will definitely have to keep the play dates going with Miss Ava. <img style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 320px; DISPLAY: block; HEIGHT: 240px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5476541141039879122" border="0" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiQi6MPjPFZOSIASlNU2RGaMiLCOAF3CD9kefEnZ-qfVNtv2GS0kTwpMicqfUWfLDLgvlDJbIgxaimK7PuLnVpl7EpLycMBWcXZfN5dzTMcK57KS2V14eZ8C7Bj_gBghhl_vm4XyIko93Af/s320/IMG_6017.JPG" /></div></div>Millihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03108568189694186960noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7845916567562798272.post-88350585169861606942010-05-28T20:37:00.000-07:002010-05-28T20:51:18.947-07:00Busy, busy, busy...<div>The month of May was an extremely busy one for us. I am going to try to get caught up with this blog over the next few days. I'll just give you a quick run down of all the things that we finished out. </div><img style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 320px; DISPLAY: block; HEIGHT: 240px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5476533930239044466" border="0" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgtUpkl7tOgrq06CW9SO6DGGlpbMm2H4B7gZ0wxsDENdTUS4tDTtNwNky1jCQUVpu1MdtfT9604jzHuiBbBUEtUIb5HSYP4_oNzkpFoO-dqZLqm5Kdj_EbM9MJJVXo0_ljwIgagtoVKybg0/s320/IMG_5847.JPG" /><br /><div></div><br /><div>*Amy and I finished BSF (Bible Study Fellowship) for the year. I will go back in September, but it will be by myself since both of the girls will be in school. I am also going back as a Children's Teaching Leader. So, I had to start my training for that at the conclusion of this year. It is an awesome Bible study, in case you are looking for a study that will give you in depth and personal applications straight out of the Bible. Next year, we are studying the book of Isaiah. </div><br /><div></div><br /><div>*For Mother's day, we went to the Botanical Garden. It was a fun day and I got some cute pictures of the girls. I will post more about that day later.</div><br /><div></div><div>*Amy's birthday came and went, as did her birthday party, and a visit from Grandma and Grandpa.</div><br /><div></div><div>*Amber graduated from Kindergarten, and Amy from Preschool. </div><br /><div></div><div>*Dave had a birthday and wow...we are already at the end of May. </div><div><span style="font-size:78%;color:#6600cc;">(Just FYI, both birthdays, both graduations, and about 100 other things all happened in the last week.)</span></div>Millihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03108568189694186960noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7845916567562798272.post-43963000964767685872010-04-08T10:11:00.000-07:002010-04-08T12:25:26.575-07:00WhateverAmber has been having some bad days at school. Of course, she doesn't fill me in until the mornings right before school. This doesn't give us a lot of time to talk and problem solve together, but it should give me a lot of time to think about an appropriate response. Unfortunately, I don't always have the right answers even after I think about it. YIKES, that scares me!<br /><br />Last week apparently a little boy in her class walked up to her and said "I don't like you. You are not my friend. " right in her face. I, of course, went into immediate defense mode when she told me this in the morning as she was sobbing that she didn't want to go to school. What is a parent to do? How dare this little boy hurt my beautiful little girls feelings? I finally talked her into going to school after promising that Amy and I would come eat lunch with her. After eating lunch, when the kids were outside this little boy walked up to me and asked my to tie his shoe. While I was tying his shoe I asked him if he said those things to Amber, of course he said "No", DUH what did I expect him to say...he is 5 maybe 6, if he said them, he probably wouldn't remember anyway...I quickly explained that she thought that he didn't like her and that it hurt her feelings. WHAT WAS I DOING? <br /><br />See, I told you should have been thinking about an appropriate answer...this was not it. This was my maternal instinct kicking in. She needs to learn a way to handle these sorts of things on her own. Her mommy will not always be able to come to her rescue. Oh how I wish I could, but then she really would have any friends...HA!<br /><br />After talking to my very smart friend, Andrea, who has more experience in this since her kiddos are a little older, we decided that we needed to arm her with a response when people say things that she perceives as hurtful.<br /><br />Her response is "WHATEVER" and walk away.<br /><br />Have any of you encountered this, and if so what is your mommy response?Millihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03108568189694186960noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7845916567562798272.post-91053716429662313402010-03-19T19:59:00.000-07:002010-03-19T20:30:45.084-07:00Donating CookiesSo the Daisy Girls Scout Cookie sales are done. YEA!!! Actually for me it wasn't that bad. Amber didn't sell many, well actually I sold them all. But that is beside the point. When I decided to be the Daisy Leader, it was because I thought it was something Amber would really enjoy (but not without her mama). She does love it, and to tell you the truth, so do I. I have a troop of 15 girls, 10 kindergartners and 5 first graders. All are great girls. I love when I go up to school and I hear little girls voices yelling to me, "Hi Ms. Milli!" or they run up to hug me, it is just so sweet!<br /><br /><div><div><div><div>Back to Girl Scout Cookies, one of the programs that the cookie sales offers is called "Gifts of Caring". This is for those people who want to buy cookies from the girls, but don't really want/need the cookies. Those cookies can be donated. If the girl sells 10 boxes of Gift of Caring cookies, they earn a patch. Now I have to make a confession, I bought all 10 boxes of Amber's Gift of Caring cookies. But really, there was a lesson to be taught here. Of course, I explained to her why I bought them, but we didn't get cookies. There is also one other little girl in our troop that sold 10 boxes of Gift of Caring cookies. (Her mom just happens to be the cookie manager for our troop. HA HA!) We chose to donate the 20 boxes of cookies to the Saline Valley Fire Department. </div><img style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 320px; DISPLAY: block; HEIGHT: 240px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5450551228671116370" border="0" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh1geWXbpzxaav06Vf1aC9jYLHJt1zyHFQxJrlULxddENqRLG7AtICyblVIRQk4-vWCGVZC3dzj-hOLcKllTwrEsTO-8JLd-UvzeLS0GPCTcKDXQDNEI2FiSSxgfpmgONv7DMheTqTsYmvO/s320/013.JPG" /><br /><div>So, tonight we took the two girls to the fire department to deliver their cookies after school. </div><img style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 240px; DISPLAY: block; HEIGHT: 320px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5450551929020373346" border="0" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjgbEg9KZOU8iwBR5b4x3okvHz9VloV6Q7Qc7uuK2CU-zkvM7ECX0_ajOXgdzt2DytaK41RYYVJ8Hv4l-pgKVJGQbgCFRqdh2SG-pZjYvgyJGMCGZ9CLmcLoMRaRebJjlp5zXqkyh1vG0JS/s320/015.JPG" /><br /><div>Both were VERY excited. I cannot tell you what a rewarding experience this was for the girls and myself. The firemen were so thankful. </div><br /><div></div><div>They gave the girls both a plastic fire helmet. <img style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 320px; DISPLAY: block; HEIGHT: 240px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5450552275874589602" border="0" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg726hBEyBpQ_9MAyuRMceZUyONulYrxCfJnOjsV1aRAkw584z6vdpZx8IzLVaCxIFkA2rkYgFUjzO6oOs6XdCxyKPmE3sHhkrAQ3uPFNL6VgbAeFf8fqrWiFj9AQqZGWQYIWqfrME0s8Z5/s320/016.JPG" /></div><br /><div></div><div>They showed off the fire truck, opening EVERY cabinet and explaining what every tool was used for. </div><img style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 320px; DISPLAY: block; HEIGHT: 240px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5450552750008026562" border="0" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgjkgoC-i6ZcpnbgoEQ_Jw5yoh-R_w-pgrnXZYutI0hHMHxN4rjqPV2-Z1y8giDynSYnW9Suhxpz1Zqm8aTftS7QqeIcnHf1uiNAbvBrW9nPqiQzVIgxCbZRHD0rMRuH6WEcEGOz4R7iBHd/s320/020.JPG" /><br /><div>Then they took us on a ride in the fire truck around the block. HOW AWESOME IS THAT!! Once we got back from our ride, they took us on a tour of the firehouse, show us the kitchen, bunk rooms, chiefs office, you name it, we saw it. </div><br /><div>Since my dad is a retired firefighter, this was stuff that I got to do on a regular basis as a kid. But I never realized until today what a treat that was. I am so thankful to those guys for making those two little girls feel so welcome and giving them such an awesome experience. </div><br /><div>So, next year when you buy your cookies from your local and favorite girl scout, throw in an extra package for the "Gift of Caring". Not only are the recipients of the cookies very thankful, but it teaches the girls selling the cookies so great lessons. </div></div></div></div>Millihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03108568189694186960noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7845916567562798272.post-18429737781211557902010-03-12T19:06:00.000-08:002010-03-12T19:18:09.823-08:00ReadingI LOVE Reading. I read every night before I go to bed. It doesn't matter what it is...fiction, non-fiction, self-help, mysteries, chick-lit, Christian fiction, you name it I will read it. Right now I have been stuck on Francine Rivers, she is a christian fiction writer, and her stories are so pure and life applicable. <div><br /><div></div><div>Dave likes to read his magazines and the newspaper, but he doesn't really read books. I am hoping that my love for reading is passed onto the girls. Amber started reading when she was 3. She is an awesome reader. She reads for 20 minutes each night as a part of her homework from school, and sometimes even more. On this particular night she was reading to Amy while Dave and I got our showers. (Amy really was paying attention, until I go the camera out.) I LOVE how snuggled up they are and that Amber would read whatever Amy chose. Such a sweet big sister. <img style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 320px; DISPLAY: block; HEIGHT: 240px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5447952034197237394" border="0" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgW8WhKMBYAIKzuM6r3PY5YoTPsNpOCFnYrGK1Z50QcVxMzZ-UoazOJwoAZLcRECZeFrRP8jfG05ZjeaIDi_ifMGjCXck6fgsTQ4Cr19u8HXWPtjaRA5oyXMQ4i5S9QMSP2KbQiP6qlGjf1/s320/005.JPG" /></div><br /><img style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 320px; DISPLAY: block; HEIGHT: 240px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5447952021913287074" border="0" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgCceB8UD8DGoT8A-mVuZj0HV0J42gQXrailkG7bBY9trPNP0EfVhU1ShyphenhyphenhADaXd7wLUTzRUA9Sdyi6zgHeJWDT4AnXWO4d94DrYi4IMhAQ82n9sFK9fEAqus1xjModAurhH-zBHRUMGSpL/s320/002.JPG" /> <div></div><div>(Sorry about the blurry pictures. I am clueless when it comes to my camera. )</div></div>Millihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03108568189694186960noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7845916567562798272.post-24976685116816351242010-03-06T15:00:00.000-08:002010-03-12T18:28:21.069-08:00The ClubAmber's little friend Kelsey came over after school one day last week. They are very sweet, because they allow Amy to play with them. Last week, they were downstairs in the playroom. I of course check on them periodically, but they were quiet and not getting into anything, just busy playing. When it was almost time for Kelsey to go home, I came down to this on the playroom door. <img style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 320px; DISPLAY: block; HEIGHT: 240px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5447939125198051122" border="0" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi87x7JN9Boqv6VMSL2HQSmXvF5p7RVZrkhd0BssSpsQDXg6nQnm-LU3Tfqo5pDFdpmJqZY9852b7KWDyVCcFnc7ngWR6k7A03-3yx4LNBTq1Yfc3yrTtzBmVy4wmnaoe-fdlcQ6IHiyhKL/s320/007.JPG" /> <div></div><br /><div>I also found a document opened in Microsoft Word on the old computer that says:</div><br /><div>amber</div><br /><div>amy </div><br /><div>kelsey</div><br /><div>314 art (apparently that is the room number where the club meets)</div><br /><div></div><br /><div>They each had a little piece of construction paper with their names on it, which is apparently the membership card. </div><br /><div></div><br /><div>I think I found this so funny, because my sister and I, along with my cousin were always making clubs. They usually involved spying on the neighbors, or bike riding tricks or something crazy. I don't remember us being this young though. I told Amber about my clubs tonight (maybe a mistake). She said their club was: a spying and sneaking club. I guess as long as I keep them locked in the basement, they can't do too much damage. </div><br /><div></div>Millihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03108568189694186960noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7845916567562798272.post-9809293734494246502010-02-24T11:30:00.001-08:002010-02-24T11:56:56.597-08:00Curtain Calls<div><div>My children are the queens of Curtain Calls. In case you don't know what a "curtain call" is, it is that time after you get the kids in bed, all tucked in, said goodnight and walk away, and then it comes "MOMMMMEEE". And they need something, anything, and most of the time they don't even know what it is. Usually it is a drink, or they are hungry, or a band aid for an "owie" that has miraculously popped up as soon as the lights were turned out. Last week Amber called out to me. As I came back up two flights of stairs to see what the problem was, she says to me, "It is boring in here not doing anything." Really! She called me to tell me she was bored as she was supposed to be going to sleep! Unfortunately, I am not very patient or sympathetic at bedtime. BUT, that is where Dave comes in...he is SO much better at bedtime than I. So last night, after we got the Nintendo DS put away, Amber showed me a bruise on her leg that she got while I was at a meeting. I was honestly sympathetic, I kissed it, told her it must have hurt and if she got some sleep her body could start healing it. She gets up...LIMPS to her bed...and starts whining about how bad her leg hurts. My reaction, no more sympathy, no more patience, I tell her to go to bed and walk away. I know, bad mom, but it was after 9:00 at this point. So Dave goes in...and is there with her for a few minutes, and she quiets down. I walk back by the room after he leaves and this is what I see...<img style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 320px; DISPLAY: block; HEIGHT: 240px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5441899995746394386" border="0" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEihJNsYrvLC5VhiVtb4rsIKu6LBkaYCtklxM8N0rfY7UXB6SrkqAJocL0MFdr-i9HLuJhz_mfple_bSFkK-XiM-xiwlVLJl1_2Ptnd73WtT1NZy2mu2EQsHn3Y2F11KG5RM8pnqU-NTKrTJ/s320/001.JPG" /></div></div><br /><p>Of course, that wasn't the end of it...suddenly Amy's knee hurts. It is now Dave's problem. Here is what I find on her.<img style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 320px; DISPLAY: block; HEIGHT: 240px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5441900522984006258" border="0" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEirJq_PJXMOoIf0-slA9AKkBFwuy_TZaPX5O8QvZaqInSg25DpNnqmutkvxD0J2rqDHRo5wJNCMmZWwc4JFyShpK72TQKAgV0GRb-HG5MxJo8aOsjysOFbHL639VH4v9endNSbD7F7eGmAj/s320/002.JPG" /></p><br />Amy's leg brace only lasted a few minutes, but Amber has a much more stubborn personality. She had to unwrap her leg when I woke her this morning.Millihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03108568189694186960noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7845916567562798272.post-54068480229211966252010-02-08T08:38:00.000-08:002010-02-08T08:50:34.347-08:00It is not fun to be sickWe have not had a healthy start to this year. Amber started us off a few weeks ago with a double ear infection. Then a week later the stomach flu, which she so graciously shared with Amy last week. Friday night, Amber and I were back at the urgent care with another ear infection. <br />Since the girls have been sick and each one very helpful when the other is sick, Dave took them to Target to pick out one new game for their Nintendo DS. Of course they didn't agree on ONE game initially, so he offhandedly says, "Get sick again and then you can come back and get another". <br />Fast forward to breakfast this morning. I gave them each a half of a banana with breakfast. They both looked at me like I had gone completely nuts. I told them, we are going to eat more fruits and vegetables so that we can be more healthy and not get sick again. Amy looks at me and says, "I'm not eating this." Of course, I ask her why, since bananas are one of the few fruits she will eat. She tells me, "I want to get sick again." I of course look at her like she is crazy. And she finishes with, "Then I can get a new DS game."<br />Way to go dad! Hopefully, we are done with illness for a little while.Millihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03108568189694186960noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7845916567562798272.post-74694857191201311272010-02-01T19:54:00.000-08:002010-02-01T20:12:23.054-08:00What do I do?I can remember talking to an old friend right after I had Amy, Amber was 19 months old, and I had just left work to become a stay-at-home mom. My friend said to me, "Aren't you going to be bored?" At that time, if I wasn't changing diapers on one or both girls at the same time, I was feeding one or both girls at the same time, or trying to get them down for a nap. Boredom never was a problem...TRUST ME!<br /><br />As the girls have now gotten a little older and are not as needy as they once were, I have branched out to do some other things "to keep me from getting bored". HA HA!!! <br /><br />So here is a rundown of what I do to keep me from boredom:<br /><ul><li>Part-time teacher at <span id="SPELLING_ERROR_0" class="blsp-spelling-error">Gymboree</span> Play and Music - Wednesday Evenings and Saturday Mornings</li><li>Girls Scout Daisy Leader - 1st and 3rd Monday Evenings, also neighborhood meetings once per month</li><li>Bible Study Fellowship - Tuesday Mornings</li><li>Bible Study Fellowship Children's Program Volunteer - 2 Tuesdays each month</li><li>MOPS - 1st and 3rd Friday mornings</li><li>MOPS Steering Team Member - Meetings once a month in the evenings</li><li>Room Parent </li><li>Subdivision Trustee</li><li>Driver - Amber to school and back everyday, Amy to and from school on Monday, Wednesday and Fridays, Amy to gymnastics on Thursdays, Amber to dance on Tuesday evenings</li></ul><p>I think that is all. Believe it or not I really do love everything that I do, OK maybe with the exception of being a subdivision trustee. But that is just because I have to listen to adults complain and not just kids...HA! </p><p>The question that I have been pondering to myself is: What am I going to do next year when Amy is in school full-time as well? As you can see, I really don't have time to work. <span id="SPELLING_ERROR_1" class="blsp-spelling-error">LOL</span> I will just spend a lot of time praying over it and see where God's plan leads me. No matter where it is, I am sure I will not be BORED!</p>Millihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03108568189694186960noreply@blogger.com1