tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-50176944951128927582024-03-15T18:10:00.533-07:00WRITE NOWWrite it right now. Before it becomes irrelevant, or worse, forgotten.Ashleyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17321572932421628197noreply@blogger.comBlogger244125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5017694495112892758.post-30478204971115653292013-01-13T08:25:00.001-08:002013-01-13T08:44:17.543-08:00For Heidi I got tagged to complete the following assignment; and I am supposed to tag other people to fulfill the assignment as well...I don't know that I have that many people who regularly read my blog but if any of you do, repost the picture, come up with 11 random things about yourself and answer the questions I did, only change the last one to your favorite Eli or Tate story. I am talking to you Chelsea Maughan, Ashley Spencer, Joanna Martinez, Jordan Roberts, Heather Taylor, Oliva Burr, Ashley Salo Burr...I think those are the only people who ever look at my blog. But if anyone else does and wants to be tagged, tag yourself please!
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11 random facts:
<p>1- I have a half brown, half blue eye
<p>2-I hate saying goodbye. Like really. I would so much rather slip out unnoticed without ceremony.
<p>3-I like to argue for fun but I don't like real confrontation.
<p>4-My kids are crazy and I get satisfaction out of other people acknowledging so...makes me feel less crazy.
<p>5-Lake Powell is hands down the greatest place on earth as far as I am concerned.
<p>6-I love to read
<p>7-I love to run. Especially up Provo Canyon with my mom and sister
<p>8-I am not very nice...I am lots of good things, but nice is not one of them.
<p>9-I love to cook but I am still blaming my lack of doing so regularly on the fact that it was really hot in my house due to no A/C...its January.
<p>10-My husband rocks. He made German pancakes and played legos with two boys fighting continuously over legos while listening to the Mormon Tabernacle Choir while I slept in until 8:30.
<p>11-Nearly every part of my body hurts right now. And Adam keeps posing hypothetical situations where I am pregnant for a much longer period of time in exchange for some outrageous reward; my answer is always "no."
<p>1. When was the last time you brushed your teeth?
Uh...this morning. Isn't that the last time everyone brushed at 4pm???
<p>2. How many days per week do you make your bed?
ZERO. I hope my mom doesn't read this. I just really don't see the point.
<p>3. What does the last text you received say?
"I am soo excited for you! Seriously nothing better in this entire world than a baby girl! Let me know." From my aunt Christie.
<p>4. If you could do anything you wanted for a day, what would that be?
Go on a long run, get a big ddp with lime, sit by a pool with a wonderful book, fall asleep by the pool, get a pedicure, go to dinner with my husband...preferably in Hawaii. Or snowboarding instead of pool.
<p>5. Are most of your friends real or virtual?
Real. I don't virtual friendships that aren't real first.
<p>6. With how many adults have you spoken in person today?
2, which is a lot for me. Sad.
<p>7. What did you have for lunch (or your last meal) today?
Fudge graham zone bar and crackers with cottage cheese.
<p>8. If you could go to lunch with anyone, with whom would you dine?
My mom and sister.
<p>9. Are you hungry yet? Or craving grown-up conversation?
Always.
<p>10. If your toenails are painted, what color are they?
A lovely fuscia.
<p>11. What's your favorite Gavin story?
Oh it's gotta be the fresh clean towels loaded into the bathtub... After Heidi had just washed all the household towels, she found them all soaking in Gavin's tub. My favorite part is the "just because," as in, "Why WOULDN'T I throw all of the towels my mom just washed into the bath with me?" I remember when I first read that story just laughing my guts out and realizing that I encounter similar ridiculousness all the time and I DEFINITELY don't react by laughing. It's just always funny when someone else's kid does it. I know this is not Gavin's most maddening or destructive episode but I love it because I just know the bewilderment and astonishment that ensues in your brain when a kid does, even mostly innocuous, things like this...it happens to me less than it used to but I am soooo familiar with the scenario and it is fun to read about it and laugh rather than stumble upon it in your home and go blue in the face yelling! I mean, speak softly and calmly but in a firm voice that he should not have done that.Ashleyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17321572932421628197noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5017694495112892758.post-43392875814211220622013-01-08T16:55:00.000-08:002013-01-08T17:04:49.706-08:00Funny stuff my kids sayEli to Tate, ever so subtly criticizing his backwards shooting pattern in Angry Birds, "Why don't you want to win?"
<p>Tate, after being forced to wait until almost 8pm to eat dinner on the way to Utah
"Please get Tate a food."
<p>Tate, upon climbing into bed with us and seeing Adam, uncharacteristically, wearing a hoodie "Mommy, is that a guy?" Me: "Um...yeah. He also happens to be your dad." ***I find this amusing for multiple, obvious reasons, but mostly because if I WERE going to cheat on my husband, it would <i>definitely </i>be in the 9th month of pregnancy.
<p>This is more sad than funny, but while sledding on my birthday, Tate kept asking me if I wanted to sled with him and seemed pacified by my brothers and Dad and Adam until just near the end; he looked up at me and very seriously said, "Mommy. You don't want to go with me?" It just about broke my heart. Unfortunately, a two year old isn't quite capable of understanding the complexities of being 9 months pregnant and how unenjoyable it is to sit in a moving car, nevermind a moving sled down a bumpy hill. Oh, AND I would have to walk back up. But it was still sad the way he said it.
<p>I asked Eli if he would come visit me and the baby in the hospital. His response: "Ummm, I'm not sure. Can I bring the X-box?" Actually, not a terrible idea...
<p> Ever since a very horrible biting incident on a very, ahem, sensitive part of Tate's body, we DO NOT taking biting by Eli lightly at all. So when I asked Eli about an alleged biting incident he committed at Adam's parents house, and got the following response, it was difficult to remain stern:" Well. We were all playing in the bounce house. Eliza was there. She is older. My friends were there, and....that's all!" When I asked if we should go ask Jonah what happened, he yelled, "NO!!!"
<p>The grand finale: While building an awesome Domino tower during church, Tate was unusually pacified and quiet. That is until Leila came over to help at the same time one of the boys came to sit down by us after passing the Sacrament. SOMEONE (Leila) knocked down the tower, but Tate attributed the crime to the unknown boy now seated to Adam's left. Tate calmly stood up and announced "I'll go hit that guy." Adam whispered, "Um, no!" Tate repeated the ultimatum several times while Adam restrained his advances. He was persistent about administering punishment but we thought we had him distracted until ten minutes later when he marched right past Adam, who by then had let his guard down, and wound his arm back to smack the kid. Adam grabbed him in time to stop the arm, but, unfortunately for the kid, not the leg. Tate managed to mete out justice by kicking the kid in the arm. We decided not to tell him that it was actually sweet little Leila who was responsible for the destruction of the tower. Ashleyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17321572932421628197noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5017694495112892758.post-16909969687414814442013-01-08T16:35:00.000-08:002013-01-08T16:35:09.495-08:00There are plenty of legit reasons why I haven't kept my blogging promise...actually only one: we have one functioning computer on which a person can accomplish exactly ONE task before it freezes up and fritzes out. So, typically, I check my email and/or pay bills when absolutely necessary. We bought a new one from Costco but hated it and took it back. I think we might just be getting old and irritable at the idea of anything new, but I sincerely hated the format of Windows 8, chronically mistyped on the flat keyboard and was just too tempted by Costco's return policy. So anyway...I have other reasons too, like I am lazy. And fat. And sooooo sick of being pregnant. And I am sort of incapable of writing (to say nothing of thinking) about ANYTHING besides how sick of being pregnant I am, which isn't all that uplifting or fun to read about. So hopefully as soon as new little Nora decides to show up (tonight????) I will be more eager to blog about things less depressing than the discomfort and misery of the end of pregnancy. I have good intel that predicts she will be born this Friday or Saturday, when the weather and pressure changes. That would be perfect! I can wait that long...and I have a ward shower on Thursday night and then Adam wouldn't have to cancel any of his patients. So here is to hoping for a happy birthday on Friday January 11th! Or tonight.Ashleyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17321572932421628197noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5017694495112892758.post-65998257181538874782013-01-08T16:23:00.001-08:002013-01-08T16:23:11.319-08:00Christmas...was lovely. We went to dinner at Tucano's on Christmas Eve and I made kick butt pork enchiladas and cinnamon rolls for Christmas day. We had fresh snow, all day to just hang in our pajamas and play with new toys and it was just really really nice. I will admit- Adam was thrilled about spending our first Christmas all by ourselves, in our own home and I was a little sad. I think it had more to do with feelings of confinement and, well, handicappedness...like I COULDN'T go anywhere more than anything. But it was quiet and pleasant and perfect. I love having my husband home for days in a row because he gets restless and starts fixing things. And we watched football and took naps and got the house ready for baby and it was just plain great. And in the end, I pulled the executive "I-am-pregnant-and-miserable-and-I-really-want-to-see-my-sister" card and we ended up going to Utah anyway for my birthday, my cousin Jordan's wedding and just to hang. It was a short but awesome trip. And I couldn't have pre-ordered a better birthday: A fresh beautiful blanket of sparkling snow, a sunny day, a walk (painful though it was) with my mom and sister, a big old Holiday DDP, sledding with my whole family, a nap and dinner at Tucano's, again, followed by a pedicure from my mom. Well, I guess I could have NOT been pregnant and that would have been better, but other than that it was perfect.
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Ashleyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17321572932421628197noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5017694495112892758.post-27392021951584458052013-01-08T16:05:00.000-08:002013-01-08T16:05:31.980-08:00Christmas cardWhen my cousin, who graciously shot this picture, passed it along, he did so with disappointment that it didn’t <div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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turn out that great…I disagree. This picture represents a measurable amount of behavioral progress from last year’s Christmas card; sure, one of us is at an awkwardly pregnant stage, one of us is in the middle of picking his nose/grabbing himself, and one looks strangely like an alien gazing off into space. However, if you will recall last year’s debacle, all four of us were looking NOT at the camera and two of us were screaming and writhing. So I am pleased with what we have accomplished this year by way of photography etiquette.
This year marks the third consecutive Christmas living in a different state for us. Since our attempts at voting in two swing states during the election proved unsuccessful, we have decided to stay put for a while! Truly, we enjoy Colorado and are so happy to be back in the West.
Eli(5) and Tate(2) are still as wild as ever. Yesterday, as I winced while ineffectively chasing Tate up onto the stand at church, (which everyone else seemed to find amusing) I seriously wondered what we are going to do with a third child—who just so happens to be a baby girl and should be here near the end of January. Adam says it will be fine because we pre-ordered her to be nice and sweet and calm and to never break anything or run away from us. So that should be great and we are all excited to meet her.
We are grateful this time of year for the friends and family we have, of whom you are, that make celebrating the birth of the Savior all the more meaningful; we wish you a Merry Christmas and wish you the peace and comfort that comes through him.
Love,
The Burr Family
Ashleyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17321572932421628197noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5017694495112892758.post-32320352558901440852012-11-06T16:15:00.002-08:002012-11-06T16:19:07.841-08:00My mom is a wizard<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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So everyone who knows my mom knows that she is a doer. She just goes and goes and gets things done. And she does them well...not like Ashley style, like improvise everything just to get it done asap so that nothing bad happens while I am "busy getting something done." She does things but she also does them impeccably, perfectly well. So she came for Halloween last week. And so that Adam and I could go to Taos, NM for the weekend. The whole thing was such a brilliant idea and even more brilliantly executed: Not only did she get to spend Halloween with the kids, not only did we design the baby's room and buy fabric WITH boys in tow, not only did we go away and find that she had made EVERYTHING while we were gone, not only did we have a fantastically wonderful and relaxing weekend away while someone who loves our children was in charge, but my kids were also alive when I got home!! Total win win win for everyone, but mostly me.
<p>Oh, and after a monumental tantrum in which Tate threw up from freaking out so much over his costume at the ward trunk or treat, I had zero desire to press the issue on Halloween night. So he went trick or treating, sans costume, and marched right into each resident's house to find the toys in the basement. Yeah...he is a really delightful 2 year old at the moment.
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<p> Also. This is Adam and me at the Rio Grande bridge in NM, which just so happens to be the original bridge to nowhere. Pretty sweet. I tried real hard to find a picture of my face that does not look so pregnant. Alas, this is what it has come to and one was not to be found. But how cute is Nora's room and how awesome is my mom?
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Ashleyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17321572932421628197noreply@blogger.com5tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5017694495112892758.post-57415545920922299482012-11-06T15:58:00.000-08:002012-11-06T16:01:27.567-08:00To own or not to own a home? I say "TO NOT!"So after a long fought battle to obtain a short sale for the home we bought when we moved to California, we finally closed and became proud non-homeowners on Halloween. Anyone who has not been through this miserable process can’t begin to fathom how much brain damage and emotional trauma is involved. So I will spare you. But I can’t express how happy I am to no longer be a homeowner, landlord, have no ties to CA, and mostly just be responsible for the house I live in!
<p>So now begins the “Should we buy a house because it is the smart thing to do?” debate. A few weeks ago we went out to visit the home of one of Adam’s work associates. She lives about 30 minutes away from us on a decently sized piece of land…let’s be honest, anything more than the 1/10th of an acre plot that the mass produced homes in our neighborhood sit on is decently sized. But I mean like 15 acres. She has horses and goats and cats and dogs and all sorts of animals that I have no interest in. But I do have interest in the land and space and living a little removed and the ability to open my door and say “GO” to my children.
<p>The boys had a blast, obviously. I mean literally, they were in heaven. It was sort of like being in Lake Powell where I just had this feeling of “ahh, we were meant to be here. This is what boys are supposed to do all day: run, run, run, jump, climb, run, get dirty, chase animals, throw rocks, sword fight with sticks, etc. “ They each got a turn to ride Starr, the nice old well broken in horse who wouldn’t kick even if a certain two year old refused to abide by rule number one of horse interaction: do NOT walk behind and ESPECIALLY underneath the horse. Apparently Tate missed (actually, rather ignored) that memo and spent most of the time running back and forth underneath the horse’s legs. Harmless, really.
<p>So Adam and I go back and forth about what we really want when we have “our” house. The truth is, we may not really need to even discuss the pros and cons because by the time we are ready for “our” house, our kids will be parents themselves and looking for rest homes for us to die in. But nonetheless, we go back and forth about whether we want the land and the space and the freedom or the neighborhood and amenities and social activities for our kids. I really really like where we live. We are renting a home less than a mile away from Adam’s work, Target, Eli’s school, the bank, parks, community center complete with gym and childcare…literally, most days I don’t go anywhere more than a mile from my home and Adam comes home for lunch more days than not. Its awesome. I love the elementary school, and I love that Eli can go outside and find friends to play with. I love how well laid out and efficient the house is built; it makes practical sense on almost every level and isn’t too bad to look at. The yard is small and easy to care for.
<p>But I hate that there is one or two or three of my same house on every carefully laid out street. I hate that my home is six inches away from either of my neighbors, which means they can probably hear me yelling at my kids. I don’t like that everything in the house is generic and practical, even though it makes perfect sense. I hate feeling like everything I do is on display and that I am “supposed” to be friends with everyone here…I know that sounds very cynical and antisocial, but I just don’t always want to be friendly ok????!!!!!! Sometimes ( a lot of times, actually) I just want to be left alone. And I will never buy another house in a homeowner’s association. Been there done that…unless it just makes too much sense not to, in which case….I don’t know.
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Ashleyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17321572932421628197noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5017694495112892758.post-23637922251345307802012-10-04T12:54:00.001-07:002012-10-04T16:11:11.478-07:00I can't help myselfI know my blog had a rebirth under the pretext that I was not going to discuss politics or my very opinionated personal views where they don't directly relate to my family. Here is how my views of last night's debate relate to my family: Talking on the phone is a nightmare. It does not matter what I do to try and placate my kids--turn on a show, set them up with treats or a meal or lock them safely in the car or stroller. I get on the phone to discuss the debate with my family or, heaven forbid, make a doctor's appointment and mayhem ensues. I guarantee you my house is still NOT burned down because I severely limit my conversations on the phone. And I do that because even though I know somewhere deep down inside myself, I am truly capable of having an intelligent, adult conversation, my kids just prohibit it. When I get on the phone, I am a rambling, meandering, bumbling idiot. So here are the thoughts I was trying to excitedly articulate to my siblings on the phone betwixt Tate hitting and cursing me for trying to put on his orange shoes instead of his green ones, refusing to sit in the cart, throwing his capri sun that he clearly did not want and demanding that I buy him a new toy...
<p>1-Jim Lehrer sucked. I know the moderator is supposed to be subtle if not invisible. But he got trampled and by so doing gave both debaters an unchecked podium. He had no control of the debate and asked nothing even remotely challenging or controversial; I was shocked by this given the plethora of controversial fodder Romney has provided in the last 4 weeks and that the President has provided in the last 4 years! There was more than enough material on which to challenge each competitor and the most compelling question he asked was "What is the difference between you and your opponent on _____?" Unbelievable. And even more unbelievable was that Romney was the only one to fill that challenge vacuum and take it to his opponent. I have never seen Barack Obama look so lackluster, defeated and downright boring.
<p>2-I am so sick and tired of the President casually tossing around the word "investment." I hate how he talks about needing people to pay more so we can "invest"....um, very few people are investing right now. We are trying to survive and resurge so that SOME DAY we can begin investing again. Especially when he has demonstrated a track record of poor investments ie Solyndra, GM, AIG, etc. I don't really trust him as my financial adviser and it angers me that he wants to ask ANYONE for more money when that money has been so poorly mismanaged (to be fair, not just by him but by government in general). No one should pay more! Government should get its freaking act together. That's why I appreciated Romney talking about the deficit in moral terms.
<p>3-I did not like the way Romney trounced all over the moderator, even though he was terrible (see number 1). He interrupted him and flat talked right over him. I know that contributed to his overall aggressiveness and keeping himself on the offensive but I didn't like that.
<p>4-The truth is truth is relative in politics. Liberals of all degrees today (remarkably enough) are praising Romney's performance and style while dogmatically accusing him of lies and fabrication. First of all, your interpretation of truth depends on your initial values and paradigms; in other words, if you think it is better tax policy, or even more morally sound, to place a heavier burden on the wealthier sector of the population, then you will naturally conclude it is untruthful to assert that the opposite policy will encourage more growth and perhaps even higher revenue. And second, does anyone truly NOT expect their candidate to frame their argument in a way that hides any flaws of said argument? Because if either one of them have a downright, crystal clear, perfect solution to reducing the deficit, guaranteeing the solvency of medicare for the younger generation, making the tax code simpler and more fair, oh and insuring everyone in the country regardless of their health status in an economically viable way...they don't. Each of their solutions depend on very different value systems and are therefore subject to accusations of untruthfulness.
<p>5-I for one wholeheartedly support the continued borrowing of funds from China to prop up Big Bird. That bird is too big to fail!
<p>6-The best line of the night was when Romney said he was used to hearing people repeating things that were not true and hoping he would eventually believe it because he has 5 boys. Amen.
<p>7-I don't know how much of a difference this makes. Romney did just about everything he needed to: He was assertive without being disrespectful. He was knowledgeable, competent and presidential. He even managed to be somewhat funny and likeable, perhaps even a touch empathetic...remarkable given how rich and out of touch he is. The President did everything to assist him in that goal and nothing to help his own image. Romney was extremely well coached on every minute minutae of debating--looking directly at your opponent, smiling without smirking, being witty without being snide, being tough without being curt or condescending. He walked many fine lines with pretty precise precision. BUT, I still don't know if it matters. I can't BELIEVE that it might not, but there has been no indication that the country is ready (again, astonishingly enough) to fire the president.
<p>8-Ann Romney's hair looks 1000 times better shorter. She should never allow her hair to get longer than that and should probably even cut it a little shorter. She looked fantastic in white. And Michelle Obama looked as gorgeous as she always does.
Now I feel better, like my conversations I had on the phone are complete. And I cannot wait for the next debate. Oh, and read <a href="http://www.cnn.com/2012/10/04/tech/social-media/debate-funniest-tweets/index.html?iid=article_sidebar">this</a>. So funny.
Ashleyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17321572932421628197noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5017694495112892758.post-8352115480935497772012-09-27T11:30:00.001-07:002012-09-27T11:37:13.781-07:00Losing TateI have plenty of bad mothering moments: yelling at my kids in frustration, not watching them, not feeling sorry when they get hurt because they were most likely being dumb or reckless or just plain not paying attention. So I am happy to own up to it. On Tuesday, I was NOT having one of those moments. And I managed to lose an entire child for an entire hour.
I went to answer the door while Tate was playing in the family room with my back door open to our fenced in yard. It was the UPS guy mistakenly delivering a case of wine which was actually, ironically enough, intended to go to Eli's kindergarten teacher. We joked heartily about making sure the stuff was consumed after school hours...ha ha ha, goodbye, maybe a two minute conversation. I came back into the kitchen and started doing the dishes before I realized I did not see or hear Tate--silence is NEVER a good sign in my house.
I knew the back door and the garage were open because Eli was outside with friends, which were both plausible escape routes. I checked all the window wells outside, tore through my house screaming his name so all my neighbors could hear and asked the kids outside if they had seen him. I went up and down from the basement to my bedroom 3 or 4 times, panicking and crying before I jumped in my car and started canvassing the neighborhood. Eli, bless his heart, helped me check the parks and yell out the window before reassuring me that Max (our next door neighbor) must have found him by now so we should go back so he could play.
I called Adam 57 times, and headed to my community center to see if anyone had turned him into the lost and found. In the back of my head, I knew Adam was working, in the middle of stitching up someone's mouth actually, and that there was not much good that could be done by him--other than what I was already doing. I knew that, logically. But there was just something about hearing him calmly say, "ok, I will come home." He didn't even offer any particularly helpful suggestions but just knowing that someone else shares the burden of your missing child (even for a moment)felt better for some reason.
I was ready to call the police and had nightmarish visions of endless days of never knowing what happened to my child. Dramatic, I know but I was positive that the UPS guy was an intended diversion and that someone had come and taken him out of my backyard and I would never see him again. So as I was driving, my backdoor neighbor calls; I answer and say "Do you have Tate????" She chuckled and said "Well, Aaron is not here..." which I was so irritated by because it was a completely irrelevant point since my CHILD WAS MISSING!!! "...I just got home from work and I heard something out on the back porch. I opened the door and Tate walked in and proceeded to go find the toys."
So my two year old can climb the fence. Didn't know that! I went to pick him up and he started hitting me and telling me to go away and he was playing at Aaron's house; it was a lovely reunion. When I got home, I realized he had dragged a step ladder out of the laundry room and placed it up against the fence and climbed over. He was such a little brat before and after I lost him, screaming at me and hitting me all day. So it was probably a good day to lose him because then I really really liked him for at least that one hour of the day when I thought I would never see him again. Both kids went to bed at 7 o clock that night...in fact, it may have been 6:57 when I closed\locked (don't judge) the door.Ashleyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17321572932421628197noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5017694495112892758.post-60745143828249461422012-09-23T13:32:00.001-07:002012-09-23T13:37:32.223-07:00Thoughts on begetting a daughter<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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So here is the very first picture of our very first daughter. To be honest, beyond being excited for something, shall we say...a little different around here and being thrilled that both my sister and I are having girls at the same time, I haven't thought that deeply about what it will mean to add a little girl to our family. So I thought I should think about it more which is the reason for this post.
I have had two miscarriages this past year. One was a twin pregnancy. I really intended to have our third child closer to Tate than the space between my first two. And I just assumed it would be a boy--mostly because I always thought it would be fun to have all boys... and that because of that, Heavenly Father would just figure that it would be a funny joke to give me EXACTLY what I wanted and sit back and laugh at the outcome. But alas, this baby girl will be 3 years younger than Tate, just as he is 3 years younger than Eli. And she is, in fact, not a boy. I realized, ultimately, as I began to consider the possibility that I might NOT be able to have any more children that things like spacing, gender and whatever else I stress and moan about during the pregnancy don't really matter. Furthermore, I don't have any control over them anyway! I know these things are fairly self evident but they were good things for me to learn. Heaven knows I have learned much from parenting my two sons thus far--more than I thought I would and definitely more than I wanted to! So as I think about what having a daughter will mean to our family and to me personally, I realize I am less scared than I thought I would be, more excited for her brothers to have a sister and VERY concerned about doing her hair. Other stuff:
1-I really hope she has her grandma Natalie's thick, lustrous hair. In the color of my mother's shiny, dark brown. If she gets my dumb, fine, thin hair then we are both in trouble because it will look awful all the time. I can't even get my own hair done on a daily basis. This is seriously the most troubling thing to me about being a mom to a girl.
2-I don't worry about her being a princess. I am not a princess. I do not care for princess stuff. And if she is born with innate princess tendencies, her brothers will certainly beat them out of her. She is just going to have to like running and motorcycling and hiking and camping.
3-I hope she is sweet. I hope she is a peacemaker, a calming influence on our family which can sometimes spiral into utter chaos. I hope she is a version of my sister Chelsea because we got along so well growing up! I want someone in our family who has the same effect that Chelsea did/does on me and our family. And if she is like me...well, that is cool too I guess. I am not so bad. But Chelsea is awesome and I would think that was such a gift, which if I may be so bold, I sort of think I deserve.
4-In the same way I think someday about sending my boys on missions and relishing/despairing in the wonderfulness/awfulnees that accomplishment will bring, I envision the day my daughter gets married and the same bittersweetness that will bring...already. I am impressed by how important it is to teach her to find the right person and how grateful I am that I can unequivocally point to her own father as the type of person for whom she ought to be looking. What if I could not recommend him? What if I had to tiptoe around the issue of insisting that she respect her father while also ignoring what he really stands for? I am truly thankful as I raise sons that I can point my finger at their dad and say "Aim to be like him," and that I can also say to my daughter "Find someone like him and you will be happy." Makes things a whole lot less complicated.
5-I am excited to have a running buddy. An errand buddy who *hopefully* won't constantly dart away from me. A reader to discuss books the way boys are not necessarily prone to do. A talker. A girl I can teach to like football AND cute clothes. A critic for my attire as I get older.
What else am I missing? What is awesome about having a daughter? Or not so awesome?Ashleyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17321572932421628197noreply@blogger.com7tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5017694495112892758.post-56758884062764207412012-09-21T14:55:00.000-07:002012-09-21T15:17:22.370-07:00I am back. For real.This post is proof. Because I just wrote it down. So I am committed. Why? Well, mostly because I need more things to "do" whilst sitting on my butt listening to the news whilst also getting very large. I have reached that turning point in the pregnancy when my whole life attitude switches from "what can I do all day to maximize calorie burn?" to "how can I get done what I absolutely need to without exerting even a fractional extra amount of energy than I have to because it is uncomfortable?"
That, and I have finally come to terms with what this blog is: it is not a political blog. Yes, I care deeply about politics and spend a decent portion of my day listening to political analysis and sometimes fantasize about being the analyst to whom people like me listen. But that is not this blog. This blog is going to be a catalog of the (sometimes boring) things I do with my kids and family and the things I learn while doing it. For a long time, I tried to make it a hodge podge of every thought that crossed my mind. But I am comfortable with this blog being mostly about my kids now...that is what I am doing at this point in my life.
Also, I just miss writing. I miss the cathartic release I get when I make my thoughts legible. And I miss recording the wildly maddening, funny, sometimes even cute, and (even more sometimes) sweet things my kids do--which I often try to forget but might someday wish to remember.
So that being said, our summer was spent roasting in our house, where NOTHING else was ever roasting because I effectively quit cooking. Pity. Because I became a really good cook last summer when I was bored in New Hampshire. I am counting down the days until I can a) cook in a house that stays below 80 degrees b) wear sweatshirts every day. So we were either roasting outside, or exploring the beauty around us in Colorado and Utah. We did some fun camping trips, went to Zion and Lake Powell and realized how much more comfortable we are in a region where the great outdoors are the museums we explore...as opposed to actual museums. Nothing against museums, but you can imagine what a museum with my kids is like, can you not? Well, I have to gear up mentally do such a thing for months.
Eli has started kindergarten and really loves it. So do I. Kindergarten aint no joke, my friends. Do you know how much homework I have every day? But there are few things better for our relationship than a regular break from one another. So for that reason alone, kindergarten is worth its weight in gold--DON'T JUDGE.
Here are some summer snapshots, mostly excluding me because I don't really do pregnant pictures.
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Ashleyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17321572932421628197noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5017694495112892758.post-21644271466100817702012-06-20T17:44:00.001-07:002012-06-20T18:00:50.160-07:00A more (mostly) positive updateI dislike leaving such a negative post up for so long as the front of my page...you know, for all of my millions of readers. So the carpets are clean, the boys had fun at Father and Sons and I recovered (most of me anyway) from gorging myself on unhealthy eats. I also got to go to California and see some friends last weekend while the boys went camping at the sand dunes. It was so nice to see my friends. It turns out I can manage my life beautifully all by myself!! And sleeping in a dark hotel by yourself is highly underrated. At least for two days, anyway. Adam should get father of the year award for taking both boys and the dog camping AND making it half way through church by himself on Father's day. I also made it up the incline
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for the first time since my ankle injury...super slow recovery that has been frustrating and made me look like I should be trekking up the incline EVERYDAY. I went with this fun group of ladies from my ward though and we had a good time.
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0/2gxChBFuICI/s1600/F%2Band%2BS.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left:1em; margin-right:1em"><img border="0" height="134" width="200" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj_wRIFQ-QxDmswqZqzgkpZOuNGBcxA0dXQRxCqKVGDPnGtFbAxssdm6e7cw3mW2kLJhdCmBUC0HfgnrIbtu9kecRUcO73gu_1z_enwg4p9B2E6bNLLjs673RXQMFl6zYjNjUTI6566rPNA/s200/F+and+S.jpg" /></a>
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Ashleyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17321572932421628197noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5017694495112892758.post-61184989340289372842012-06-08T19:05:00.000-07:002012-06-08T19:05:22.351-07:00I sure earn my breaks around hereDid I just drown my sorrows in a Hot n Ready Little Caesars pizza, crazy bread and a very large Diet Coke? Yes, yes I did. But the coke was caffeine free because I want to go to sleep tonight--let's not get TOO wild here. Tonight was supposed to be my little personal party anyway since it is the most highly anticipated night of the year for a mom of two wild boys...wait for it: Father and sons campout!! Times like these make having only boys so awesome. So I was planning to indulge at the pool with a superficial magazine and some red licorice anyway, but then Eli REALLY made me deserve it, so much so that the pizza and crazy bread got included in my party too. I honestly don't even want to discuss what he did. But let's just say it involved bodily functions deliberately smeared on carpet/wall/dresser/air vent (and who knows what else I missed); and it turned my anticipated happy waves and kisses goodbye into a furious disposition summed up nicely by the phrase "hurry up and get the **** out of here before something really bad happens." Let's also just say that if an all boys campout was not already planned, Eli would have been sent camping. Alone. Without a sleeping bag. So that was lucky. And it was also lucky that I was already planning on borrowing a carpet cleaner tomorrow.
And it was even luckier that when I got in the car to go pick up the aforementioned indulgences, my few favorite country songs happened to be playing, most notably "Where the green grass grows." That song always makes me happy and carefree. And then I think it was more than luck that while I was trying to mindlessly drive, and just forget, that I instead started wondering what in the world to do with this kid who struggles so much with bewildering, wildly unpredictable naughty choices, how I am ever going to get through to this kid, get him through his formative years in life and help him figure out how to listen to the conscience I KNOW he has somewhere, wondering if it is possible for him to avoid any of the painful consequences he will certainly incur from making impulsive, impetuous, DUMB decisions...all of this is going through my head and I suddenly had a fleeting vision of the day I would send my son on a mission. And how glorious and awful it will be. And I burst into tears and thought "Really? Will we get there?" And I think Heavenly Father told me we would. Or at least that we could. And I was like "Are you sure???" And then I felt sure. Tender mercy I was not necessarily looking for.
I was planning to just marinate in madness until they return tomorrow. But I think the better answer is to forget and move on, repeat as needed. I think that is the answer for just about every day with Eli--forget and move on because there will be something new tomorrow and accumulating frustration helps no one. For all of the things Eli puts me through, I know he is a good kid deep down. He is just learning how to show deep affection and, sometimes even, sorrow for the wacky things he does. Not all of the time, but that is new and good. I know he is capable of so much. He is funny and fun and wild and crazy. But he is smart and sweet and I just haven't quite figured out the best way to help him channel the strengths he has that I know can help him overcome his weaknesses. I am sure that is the universal struggle of every parent--basically, how do I make my kid learn, and more importantly decide, to be the best he can be and rise to his potential? I know it is not unique. But it feels burdensome and heavy to me right now. So I am grateful for every tiny little reassurance I can get that reinforces the idea that he will be fine.
I am a little sick from licorice and pizza and coke. But now I am going to go take a bath and watch something stupid like "Pregnant in Heels" or the like. Don't tell, but I actually love that show. And sleep in until, like, 8am! And then go on a walk and borrow the carpet cleaner. Because now the carpets really need to be cleaned. Forget and move on, repeat.Ashleyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17321572932421628197noreply@blogger.com6tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5017694495112892758.post-20679392732425906462012-05-18T12:04:00.000-07:002012-05-18T12:16:38.782-07:00We heart ColoradoEverything we love is here: mountains, sunshine, clear blue skies, dry air, good Diet Coke, parks, hiking and running and trails and--probably most importantly--lots of people who are also raising families and therefore do not hate us simply because we have children. (I realize given the subject of my most recent post, that might seem strange...)
So here are some pictures of a few of our favorite things:
Park + sand - ocean= better than the beach:
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My souvenir from hiking the Incline,<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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an old cog railroad track that goes 2000 feet up a mountain in 3/4 of a mile. I swear you can see to Kansas at the top. So pretty that it was worth even the torn ligaments I sustained in a fall on the way down.
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Some more pictures from the boys' dream days in Boulder working the tractors for Grandpa...does your Grandpa work in the woods???
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I really hope we stay here. Being back near the Rocky Mountains makes me realize I never want to live anywhere else but somewhere near them. I have enjoyed, for various reasons, all of the different places we have lived. But there is no place like home, said Dorothy wisely, and it is a simple, true truth to which I wholeheartedly subscribe.Ashleyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17321572932421628197noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5017694495112892758.post-90005245306764578622012-05-17T07:36:00.002-07:002012-05-17T07:41:59.583-07:00VentingI am hoping that my blog will make me feel better. I didn't sleep very well last night. And it is so stupid. But its not, too.
I might as well do a quick update as well while I am on here, since THAT doesn't happen very often...we are all settled in in Colorado Springs and I really really love it here. We have a great neighborhood and the sun shines all the time and there is a Target two blocks away! Adam loves his job and we love even the idea of knowing we can drive back to Utah and family in a day if we want to. Adam's dad was out here doing a job in Boulder for a few weekends so we went up there to watch the helicopters and play in the mountains.
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What a gorgeous sliver of the Rocky Mountains. My kids were in heaven. We even got to sleep in the "bus house" and Tate yammers on non-stop about helicopters dropping hay on the mountain. Eli is all registered for kindergarten; I am a little apprehensive about it because I know he will probably struggle...
which brings us to my need for decompression. I have made no secret of the fact that Eli is a difficult child. Nothing with him is ever easy or smooth. He has an impeccable propensity for trouble making and has a very very hard time following even simple rules. HOWEVER. He is sweet and friendly and charismatic and fun and is so excited about playing with all of the kids in our neighborhood. Having just turned 5 and learning how to ride on two wheels, I feel confident about letting him play out in our cul de sac with the neighbor kids. I feel like he is old enough to start figuring out how to be a good friend and play like a normal kid. There seems to be a general consensus to let the kids play without parental hovering and it is a lovely throwback to yesteryear when kids just played with sticks and rocks and chased each other on their bikes. And mostly, it has been a great experience and so so fun to watch.
But our next door neighbors hate us. Honestly, I get it: Their kids are older. Their youngest daughter is 7--we have two very young, obnoxious, mischievous boys... They hate dogs--we have a very obnoxious dog. They are meticulous about their yard and it shows; the contrast between our two sets of grass and plants is laughable. So the dog and the kids pose a threat to their beautiful yard and landscaping (I am not being sarcastic--our kids really do walk on the rock wall and wander into their yard because we do not currently have a dividing fence and I simply cannot contain them all the time. They get out.)
So my only interactions thus far with my next door neighbor have been her yelling at me because my dog was barking or my kids were irritating her. Fair enough. But yesterday, for the very first time since we moved here, the backdoor neighbor's little girl, Kennedy, came and <i>knocked on our door</i> for Eli to play. That may not sound like much, but it was a big deal. He was ecstatic and so was I, lame, I know. Not 10 minutes later he came in with giant tears and a red face to say that Ava's mom (the next door neighbor) told him to go inside. My heart sank. I went over to ask why, assuming I would need to apologize for something wrong that he did. She lit into me again, beginning, weirdly, with "I know you hate me..." I shook my head and was silent but was thinking, "well you haven't given me very many opportunities to like you." I asked if he was being mean or what the problem was. She retorted, "He is 4, Ava is 7. He is always walking on my rock wall and Ava can't be expected to tell him no all the time." I didn't know what to say so I just said I was sorry and that he just wants to play.
It really sucked, then, to watch every neighborhood kid congregate in my neighbor's yard and explain to Eli why he cannot play. In one sense, it is good: Eli has got to learn that if we wants to play, he has to follow rules and play nice. And that is the only way he is going to learn to respect what other people say. But the REAL problem and the reason why I am upset is that my neighbor has now poisoned her daughter against Eli, and she has in turn poisoned the neighbor kids. She yelled at him in front of them so now they think they can do the same. And, now that I realize that, I put together the fact that every time Ava is outside, all of the kids spend most of their time knocking on my door to tell me that Eli "went to the end of the street" or "he can't come in our yard" or "he said shut up" or "he almost hit me with his bike."
Like I said, I know Eli is difficult. But it is so painful to have other people point it out, especially people with whom I would like him to play. Its like privately admitting you are fat and being self aware about it, but it hurts so much worse if someone else says it. I personally have pretty thick skin. I don't care much if the neighbors are intolerant or unkind, that is their problem and it doesn't really affect me at this stage of my life that much. But it does affect Eli to have other kids label him and treat him like the "bad kid." And I hurt so much for my child as I watch him try to make friends. I am just starting to realize now that Eli's behavior is going to start affecting HIM and his relationships with other people--not just Adam and me. Up until now, it has only been hard on us. And my heart just breaks for him because I know he will struggle...as much as I would love him to just get along easily with friends, I know he will not. And I know he has got to figure out how to do it on his own. There is not much I can do without turning into a person that I really do not want to be. That hurts.Ashleyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17321572932421628197noreply@blogger.com7tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5017694495112892758.post-34593488018219520742012-04-22T08:38:00.003-07:002012-04-22T08:46:45.191-07:00Updates via belated birthday letters<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgt6hYnaOC4UYIj1-oLtrLkFGDpLgA79cWf32aORsZSbPuO-9Ls9cwhNFv1GzLifbMGItvD_PcIIdo2a5kqpT2hWBXXaJ8jK23aw_UXVfRMJnRHTUnXxfWsODPffxtDye84BT2S34RxJXTm/s1600/P3250964.JPG"><img style="float:left; margin:0 10px 10px 0;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 200px; height: 150px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgt6hYnaOC4UYIj1-oLtrLkFGDpLgA79cWf32aORsZSbPuO-9Ls9cwhNFv1GzLifbMGItvD_PcIIdo2a5kqpT2hWBXXaJ8jK23aw_UXVfRMJnRHTUnXxfWsODPffxtDye84BT2S34RxJXTm/s200/P3250964.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5734251970233928770" /></a><br /><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhITIN-xBVWA3ff-UbNB5tnXX4pnPggE6IrMMDioUuifNHjnxEmbZ4e_yidQFqZ0NugkEGA2JhyphenhyphenA8C9Ejlrb24xcD7Zbhe0d8y2VpOt_PL7ch1axCmXp9NLiIBImJNgktJ5ZDjo_ytED2jO/s1600/P3250956.JPG"><img style="float:left; margin:0 10px 10px 0;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 150px; height: 200px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhITIN-xBVWA3ff-UbNB5tnXX4pnPggE6IrMMDioUuifNHjnxEmbZ4e_yidQFqZ0NugkEGA2JhyphenhyphenA8C9Ejlrb24xcD7Zbhe0d8y2VpOt_PL7ch1axCmXp9NLiIBImJNgktJ5ZDjo_ytED2jO/s200/P3250956.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5734251965683930066" /></a><br /><br /><br />Dear Eli and Tate:<br /><br />5 and 2 you two are. I won’t lie, my crazy little crazies—I often feel like you two are the equivalent difficulty level of ten children. If you were a ski slope, you would be a double black diamond, WITH moguls and ice. But I adore you. I love spending my days with you and listening to the alternating mix of nutty nonsense and profound wisdom that comes out of your mouths. We have put you two through a lot this year, including but not limited to two cross country moves in less than a year and all the disruptions that come with that. I am amazed and grateful at how resilient you have been while I have been distracted and preoccupied for the better part of the last year with moving arrangements, important decisions and disappointing miscarriages…I freely confess to letting these circumstances get the better of me on many occasions. I am humbled at how forgiving you are of my impatience with you; you both return kindness for my unkind words and actions to you, hugs for harsh words, and sheepish smiles and shrugs for my frustration. Maybe all the things I think I am teaching you in vain would begin to be more effective if I would allow more of the kindnesses you show me to affect my teaching methods. I will try to do better in the next year and, to that same end, I will REALLY try to not move again. All that being said, the last year has been a very polarizing mix of trying and exciting, which I guess pretty well sums up what any given day with you boys is like.<br /><br /><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhPPqs21AztprCxshYzdAyguaAn1k-CRU5alJygF6bBCf8t_8g9TebHNd2SAzbV8inWf0od6AqksMgfmwG9YpaGH9nxM-_PLbqil3ik5ozgLrwJORskJ8P20MoFdWbaFnVIdd_b6D3Wu3lF/s1600/P4070991.JPG"><img style="float:left; margin:0 10px 10px 0;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 150px; height: 200px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhPPqs21AztprCxshYzdAyguaAn1k-CRU5alJygF6bBCf8t_8g9TebHNd2SAzbV8inWf0od6AqksMgfmwG9YpaGH9nxM-_PLbqil3ik5ozgLrwJORskJ8P20MoFdWbaFnVIdd_b6D3Wu3lF/s200/P4070991.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5734250840655258626" /></a><br /><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg8uDXswY31Iq8HjWLq5G0qvIu_Kfmy-8lMGF2Vsholbop4BK7sZkuHjo7PV_JyT_oY_GZJONOyTIxed3kpzs_IosDzl8jMLT7IAjdXa6X3MMMZv2KDJ8G9eaLy3Pno-QNhxj4-vDIpvOa1/s1600/P4070990.JPG"><img style="float:left; margin:0 10px 10px 0;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 200px; height: 150px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg8uDXswY31Iq8HjWLq5G0qvIu_Kfmy-8lMGF2Vsholbop4BK7sZkuHjo7PV_JyT_oY_GZJONOyTIxed3kpzs_IosDzl8jMLT7IAjdXa6X3MMMZv2KDJ8G9eaLy3Pno-QNhxj4-vDIpvOa1/s200/P4070990.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5734250838634253906" /></a><br /><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhQ5svFEjhbykZW_jMy9Vz9kaMdo7f5Gu0IHugluriF_dqiRmqohUYc55M4ahSPjnQtrf_kkR1f7HiM-XpbK4IHyaLrXg9SZWM_IpE6o6ZlQXyL8VRjrv_v1CJx1RuJn1j2c_eEXKlkpche/s1600/P3190951.JPG"><img style="float:left; margin:0 10px 10px 0;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 200px; height: 150px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhQ5svFEjhbykZW_jMy9Vz9kaMdo7f5Gu0IHugluriF_dqiRmqohUYc55M4ahSPjnQtrf_kkR1f7HiM-XpbK4IHyaLrXg9SZWM_IpE6o6ZlQXyL8VRjrv_v1CJx1RuJn1j2c_eEXKlkpche/s200/P3190951.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5734250830238458866" /></a><br /><br />Eli: Sometimes, little son, I think Heavenly Father sent you to me for the very specific reason of teaching me how to pray. I mean really, get down on my knees and beg for help. I have learned through being your parent the last 5 years that I am no good at asking. I am really good at accepting hard things and not questioning why things are the way they are. I am not so good at asking for specific things that I need personally revealed to me. You, my boy, have not only been a direct source of insight into my own thoughts with your 24/7 barrage of incessant questions, but you have also given me many many reasons to ask for help from Heavenly Father. Eli, I do not want you to think that I do not love every tiny little part of your busy spirit. But I swore the day you were born that I would never lie to you. And I would be lying if I said that you were not a difficult child. I believe your spirit was sent to me to help me navigate my own weaknesses. Because the ones I have must be strengthened if I am going to lead you down the path we all want you to follow. You are my own personal refiner’s fire. I am sorry that I will probably be a better mother to your younger siblings, but I know you have many unique abilities that will help you overcome my weaknesses as a parent: Despite the influence of that stupid show Chuggington which has taught you to parrot phrases like “Oh, I just can’t do it” and “Its no use, I will never be able to finish” you are remarkably, painstakingly persisitent. (By the way, no more Chuggington.) Your powers of persuasion are going to amount to something far more positive than making me wish I had a mute button some day. I think you hung out with Socrates in the pre-mortal life. You certainly have perfected the Socratic method of learning. I have no doubt that you will make your life a habit of life-long learning due to your inquisitive nature: You ask about the meaning of every third or fourth word every time we read scriptures; you quiz me non-stop about blinking lights, the mechanics of the refrigerator and the distance to the moon. You are so friendly and gregarious and outgoing. I am so confident of your potential son. I know you are capable of just about anything if we can polish your rough edges and channel your energy. You are smart and charismatic and have an unlimited amount of energy that somehow still surprises me every single day. You are such a good brother to Tate and I love watching you make him laugh; you love doing anything that will make him laugh and that makes me happy. I love you so much and I am so proud of all of the good things you are doing. I honestly can’t wait to see what you are going to do with your life; if the surprises I get on a day to day basis are an indication of the pattern your life will take going forward, we are all in for a wild ride. And I am excited. I love you buddy, happy birthday my big five year old.<br /><br /><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgTo8QSi-isdBiJ2dkcygcO0ONrzVjSO94FUJoEVc-RK2ynZ_ZUxY_PsyYQhPIb-8tGvdUkvVck5u2DcS5j_yr5dnUo1gysoD6SwOK4R7NFTGDoaPL1r2n2mmMwxvmzU3giXicBvCj0UawF/s1600/P4070989.JPG"><img style="float:right; margin:0 0 10px 10px;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 150px; height: 200px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgTo8QSi-isdBiJ2dkcygcO0ONrzVjSO94FUJoEVc-RK2ynZ_ZUxY_PsyYQhPIb-8tGvdUkvVck5u2DcS5j_yr5dnUo1gysoD6SwOK4R7NFTGDoaPL1r2n2mmMwxvmzU3giXicBvCj0UawF/s200/P4070989.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5734251344707777666" /></a><br /><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgWGEt1XJEhGS9KG0-GlpKPFSBD9JeCPgstvblvIFakd2P6dHVM56oVQkRwGsYszmqTZ0Ao6CdAEsXlxlHcepVUq_4mhvMqR7kguiUcflg6F3q-uC25hhwaIcSjnJaYtwyXP60AB1_LGO_R/s1600/P3190948.JPG"><img style="float:right; margin:0 0 10px 10px;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 150px; height: 200px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgWGEt1XJEhGS9KG0-GlpKPFSBD9JeCPgstvblvIFakd2P6dHVM56oVQkRwGsYszmqTZ0Ao6CdAEsXlxlHcepVUq_4mhvMqR7kguiUcflg6F3q-uC25hhwaIcSjnJaYtwyXP60AB1_LGO_R/s200/P3190948.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5734251339123237890" /></a><br /><br /><br />Tate: From the day you were born, I knew you were made mostly of sugary-sweet something, which was a fitting personality for a kid who weighed nearly 30 pounds at 6 months. I didn’t know quite how much your environmental surroundings (ie, aforementioned sibling) would influence your capacity for persistent destruction; but at the end of the day, you are still my sweet snuggly boy at whom I just can’t help smiling- even when you are standing in front spilled milk, dumped with skilled precision through my wooden bench, covering every square inch of the puzzles and dripping nicely in a long line onto the carpet. That happened on Saturday. You melt my heart Tate. I don’t know whether it is because I can so easily predict your daily reactions or meltdowns or whether I see a little bit of myself in you. If Eli was sent to help me overcome my weaknesses, I think you were sent to soften my heart and make me laugh and smile while I am trying to do that. You are such a good little talker/rambler. You are sensitive and predictable. And even though you like to erupt in screaming fits after I ask you to do something like put your truck down or share a toy, you always do it. Sometimes, if I am in a particularly mean mood, I will tell you to do something just to see you be implicitly obedient and then freak out! I shouldn’t do that…but it is way funny. Something that we seriously need to discuss though? You climbing into my bed every night about 2am! You have outsmarted me completely. At first you used to walk in and proclaim, “Hi mom!” But you figured out quickly that that landed you right back in your bed. So now, you stealthily climb up at the bottom of the bed and creep in as quietly as possible. It is not until a few hours later when you are magnetically attached to my back that I realize you are even there. You little stinker. And then it is really funny if I ask you if you are supposed to sleep in my bed, always replying no with a wicked snicker. I love that you love me Tate. I love that you always want a hug, that you tell me how important it is to be nice to friends—“no hitting, no biting, be soft,” and that you get so passionate/crazy about the food you want or toys you want to play with. Your diggers and tractors have a tremendously good best friend in you my little buddy. And so does your brother. I am so happy that I am your mom. I love you buddy, happy birthday my big two year old.Ashleyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17321572932421628197noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5017694495112892758.post-46356762443881298532011-08-29T10:52:00.000-07:002011-08-29T11:47:53.584-07:00Exploring our new region
<br />Life has been good, if not slow, since we moved to New Hampshire. I spend far less time cleaning up after my kids because all of the messes they make in the backyard bother me far less than they did in closed quarters. I feel like we have unleashed our formerly caged kids into the great wide open and they just love it. They play in our backyard most all of everyday. Sometimes clothed, sometimes not. Whatever. Live free or die right? It is the New Hampshire way.
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<br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiXRkqj5bFYspvGHA9NDJ5Nkh_rhgYCJ9Ea_d6iSTHBs69sYBOdniJH5UeynLTWXq3w_IXHx4MqR5WiIAja8ks2O_DtfCXvS0DI5FmEGwaSwq9S_0w_8xxiXLoZw6chzxOxDgW4ynW0MajV/s1600/P8245757.JPG"><img style="float:left; margin:0 10px 10px 0;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 200px; height: 150px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiXRkqj5bFYspvGHA9NDJ5Nkh_rhgYCJ9Ea_d6iSTHBs69sYBOdniJH5UeynLTWXq3w_IXHx4MqR5WiIAja8ks2O_DtfCXvS0DI5FmEGwaSwq9S_0w_8xxiXLoZw6chzxOxDgW4ynW0MajV/s200/P8245757.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5646347117544859570" /></a>
<br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhbCxUuHFYZ2DUpO-FMr2EsZinTXWJN-kP26RXUvql4kcVLB8CmAT1z7NEgKzOFgnrh6xc-eQmumuxoP7NEXfEuNDUBOQfPgA2V3GeoeVcTU9lQPIgd_swkKh4mJfLI1luA23ia9aiemfJz/s1600/P8235755.JPG"><img style="float:left; margin:0 10px 10px 0;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 200px; height: 150px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhbCxUuHFYZ2DUpO-FMr2EsZinTXWJN-kP26RXUvql4kcVLB8CmAT1z7NEgKzOFgnrh6xc-eQmumuxoP7NEXfEuNDUBOQfPgA2V3GeoeVcTU9lQPIgd_swkKh4mJfLI1luA23ia9aiemfJz/s200/P8235755.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5646347111327805650" /></a>
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<br />So this past week, we took a mandatory vacation while Adam's office closed. We went up to Acadia National Park in Maine and it was absolutely spectacular. The boys loved it. I loved it. We camped for two nights and stayed in a hotel (acting as a stink and decent night's sleep buffer) in between. I am not a huge fan of campground camping but I would go back to this one again just to pick the wild blueberries again! It was amazing. I picked for about an hour and this is what I came home with.<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiQwXtNnUUc6RtiwY54dX3nuhP0gtzCZRyZyk7OcbLui8xlQRcXiKMqPy3EzEAVWd6jqpiChfq6u_F5ojTOppGF5MkZLIsznqa8rY8sfEdFuTr0TuoaAIZze_QxT1KbDPEeX_5tWC50FAmp/s1600/P8265805.JPG"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 200px; height: 150px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiQwXtNnUUc6RtiwY54dX3nuhP0gtzCZRyZyk7OcbLui8xlQRcXiKMqPy3EzEAVWd6jqpiChfq6u_F5ojTOppGF5MkZLIsznqa8rY8sfEdFuTr0TuoaAIZze_QxT1KbDPEeX_5tWC50FAmp/s200/P8265805.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5646350115051569154" /></a> I know it doesn't look like much but I was pretty proud. And for a moment, as I looked up and out over the hills and ocean to check on my kids--Eli hunting in the bushes with a stick and Tate sitting smack down in the bush, blue faced snacking on dirt and blueberries--I was in heaven. Often I have thought that I would have been a terrific pioneer wife and homesteader. And I totally felt like one letting my boys roam the Earth, not caring one bit they they smelled like campfire and dirt and were just plain downright disgusting and dirty, whilst I was gathering food straight off the ground. <a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEibEESranMLuEGF8KiiancLIa9y5sjYB3wK1uDxLt38lNG316Q5nt7a1oRkt1zQi3JkoANi5o0EHxngM-VgQKcpWf2_3O-z3qXlb0FDvlKDRFIQrpU_3yFzWmlprgA152yU40WITN61wLW5/s1600/P8245772.JPG"><img style="float:left; margin:0 10px 10px 0;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 200px; height: 150px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEibEESranMLuEGF8KiiancLIa9y5sjYB3wK1uDxLt38lNG316Q5nt7a1oRkt1zQi3JkoANi5o0EHxngM-VgQKcpWf2_3O-z3qXlb0FDvlKDRFIQrpU_3yFzWmlprgA152yU40WITN61wLW5/s200/P8245772.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5646348266521584946" /></a>
<br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhDKoOjng9HeehC4qQJJr99hSorFc9Y7cnHX_yzuN47SSPm5riQXAsHGPKeA-WAinEgM9THE87hmZM0SdxGfT6prIjd5l0aIDv25veB7BYVocuziNdn7gUWjKiStSdE0-LoqLRpV8RSyXs6/s1600/P8245767.JPG"><img style="float:left; margin:0 10px 10px 0;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 200px; height: 150px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhDKoOjng9HeehC4qQJJr99hSorFc9Y7cnHX_yzuN47SSPm5riQXAsHGPKeA-WAinEgM9THE87hmZM0SdxGfT6prIjd5l0aIDv25veB7BYVocuziNdn7gUWjKiStSdE0-LoqLRpV8RSyXs6/s200/P8245767.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5646348261169538354" /></a>
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<br />So we brought home the blueberries and a giant LIVE lobster we lovingly named Pinchy. Pinchy and Duane rode in the back together. It is too bad that only one of our "pets" lived to see the next day. Needless to say, we (by we, I mean Adam...I couldn't watch) cooked and consumed our first lobster. It was pretty good but I later learned we chose one that was too big; the sweet, tender and juicy ones are apparently 2 lbs or less.
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<br />Anyway, things are good. Adam is loving his job and just picked up another day working at a state prison, which he is ecstatic about. Pulling teeth and mingling with convicts--brushing up on all of the information he has learned from watching "Gangland"--what is not to love? Our house still has not sold. Which is beyond frustrating and bad and all that. But what do you do? Keep trying and quit whining I guess. The best news is that Tate and I get to go to Indiana to see my sister Chelsea and her family. Wahoo! We, how do I put this...well, we both need a break from a certain 4 year old who lives in this house. Don't get us wrong, we love him. But...we just need a break. So to Indiana we go.
<br />Ashleyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17321572932421628197noreply@blogger.com5tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5017694495112892758.post-60705147121316091482011-07-11T12:01:00.000-07:002011-07-11T12:42:56.031-07:00Hello blog, it's me AshleyI am not going to go into the many reasons why I am a defunct blogger; the short of it centers on my house, kids and trying to short sell my house. Enough.<br /><br />And though I tried to avoid it, this blog <span style="font-style:italic;">is</span> my neglected journal. So an update is in order I suppose. We have had a crazy and wonderful 6 months. Here are the highlights:<br />-<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgw8zrOQLXxmGdRlkN2vGC49Vf0y609uFHL8xYL8SytbsGs9uX96S0vmMLk3xKA5McGj7QBJlWb0E-RyLhOuaC6ZuQPaKg5J6umE9zE8aMXJ8cyNThxZCsp6TGtGZgwdSK2aV3zHK9Y44xf/s1600/P5295378.JPG"><img style="float:right; margin:0 0 10px 10px;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 150px; height: 200px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgw8zrOQLXxmGdRlkN2vGC49Vf0y609uFHL8xYL8SytbsGs9uX96S0vmMLk3xKA5McGj7QBJlWb0E-RyLhOuaC6ZuQPaKg5J6umE9zE8aMXJ8cyNThxZCsp6TGtGZgwdSK2aV3zHK9Y44xf/s200/P5295378.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5628174599679023346" /></a>Adam graduated from the Loma Linda school of Dentistry on Sunday May 29th. The ceremony wasn't nearly as hot or long as we anticipated, my shoes were cuter than any I have ever owned (too bad I probably won't ever find another reason to wear them) and everything was perfect. Both of our parents came for the event and we had a wonderful time chatting, eating and quietly celebrating the accomplishments of the one we all adore so much. I made some pretty outstanding food, I have to note: Gorgonzola crusted beef tenderloin, rosemary rolls, sweet potato fries and carrot cake. <br />-After that decadent event, my parents whom I cannot thank enough took our boys to Utah so we could pack up the house. The house is so riddled with mixed emotions for me. It is where I have raised my crazy boys. I love that house. It was hard to say goodbye, but only for a moment. We did it and we moved out and on. But I miss these and other people so so much.<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiBGQ64pqWCFdtRkaZby2SppUawRGYWAAM7i6o9U-4cADjI7ibvzmo2PLmGj9hH-E1_oMRM5IHcIOUiqMeaxwGYcotsxQ055vvrPD_hfavG7aEPLs2iP6gl1JfJp9ZOs7VsQ_C0o89SHt8t/s1600/P5285312.JPG"><img style="float:right; margin:0 0 10px 10px;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 200px; height: 150px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiBGQ64pqWCFdtRkaZby2SppUawRGYWAAM7i6o9U-4cADjI7ibvzmo2PLmGj9hH-E1_oMRM5IHcIOUiqMeaxwGYcotsxQ055vvrPD_hfavG7aEPLs2iP6gl1JfJp9ZOs7VsQ_C0o89SHt8t/s200/P5285312.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5628176520902047154" /></a> Good friends make your location your home. I am still working on making this new place a place where friends make me feel at home--even more for my kids than for me. <br />-<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiE9ujpKfYgpsdrTfRet19X2JzAfVhAItUrInXG66eskCNKhyphenhyphenSunkhmFdyBH7uJd6TMmXgvH8HFdhKGWOj9-RWeVa72jbkIsyk-3GZhDz-3hyphenhyphent7j3-p0o9c9I2n-F_nAgcguOHcqtDV827_/s1600/P6065443.JPG"><img style="float:left; margin:0 10px 10px 0;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 200px; height: 150px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiE9ujpKfYgpsdrTfRet19X2JzAfVhAItUrInXG66eskCNKhyphenhyphenSunkhmFdyBH7uJd6TMmXgvH8HFdhKGWOj9-RWeVa72jbkIsyk-3GZhDz-3hyphenhyphent7j3-p0o9c9I2n-F_nAgcguOHcqtDV827_/s200/P6065443.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5628180320327051810" /></a>And then Adam and I went to Maui! Maui is something for which I cannot thank my inlaws enough. What a gift. They watched our boys and sent us on their dime to Maui for 5 wonderful days. We went on a helicopter ride, rented a Harley and went to the top of the volcano, ate more decadent food and devoured our favorite books in prisine, beach bliss. So so fun. This event must be repeated. <a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjJ_f0Fy1MN1titI6UiMFQ6DrRNxkNgEfkuar3Cw1LLI3C-0A0A_87HqqAZ41GEPgjowPHlincjwtq7nGUeOZ6t29vAtjB9zQ-YO8PoAR9f3q8o5WxFT8uUYDSjI3YbLKmx8pwDjDRdmNLw/s1600/P6055438.JPG"><img style="float:right; margin:0 0 10px 10px;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 200px; height: 150px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjJ_f0Fy1MN1titI6UiMFQ6DrRNxkNgEfkuar3Cw1LLI3C-0A0A_87HqqAZ41GEPgjowPHlincjwtq7nGUeOZ6t29vAtjB9zQ-YO8PoAR9f3q8o5WxFT8uUYDSjI3YbLKmx8pwDjDRdmNLw/s200/P6055438.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5628176530507020962" /></a><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhHWcEys4CV9MHr8uHL-YQv6_ELGSU64E9VJyVQysg0YafODrqiskHu2ttiYdsnI1z-gONMsQH5Zm9AjUIZqaiPwzxncBjdwOILhA7n9ypvw-LoSeXRUOirFvlx81HOophK9Kyn3EOGuDSM/s1600/P6055415.JPG"><img style="float:right; margin:0 0 10px 10px;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 200px; height: 150px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhHWcEys4CV9MHr8uHL-YQv6_ELGSU64E9VJyVQysg0YafODrqiskHu2ttiYdsnI1z-gONMsQH5Zm9AjUIZqaiPwzxncBjdwOILhA7n9ypvw-LoSeXRUOirFvlx81HOophK9Kyn3EOGuDSM/s200/P6055415.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5628176526454819794" /></a><br />-Then Adam officially became a New Hampshirian and a working man while the boys and I enjoyed some more time in Utah and at our favorite locale--the Ranch in Atlanta, ID.<br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiVEjMtCV6ZgQqMzyAnVc7plhKrbNudWYBmg6ljpB8K_MMZA8ZSeec9cERxkgVuZCfcVv8QF_DasfTJm5UDaxG-NNnnV0kJf81lKZk4fWBOE2uCiysGWYSd8P0W57GLVu8SoaL71HWtQhfA/s1600/Ranch+2011+031.jpg"><img style="float:right; margin:0 0 10px 10px;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 200px; height: 134px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiVEjMtCV6ZgQqMzyAnVc7plhKrbNudWYBmg6ljpB8K_MMZA8ZSeec9cERxkgVuZCfcVv8QF_DasfTJm5UDaxG-NNnnV0kJf81lKZk4fWBOE2uCiysGWYSd8P0W57GLVu8SoaL71HWtQhfA/s200/Ranch+2011+031.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5628182350116985570" /></a> <br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj3o6ET8ZoDOLLKsLvOFwtZGohdSNlJOP5h-bUpuHJ_BEMEa_Ag8ovhf-O5cclGgwPllN3h5hKpTL0bj5Y2xSmIW7lgEbkOXK6R4SqgHrlLc_zzlHa1964WOt_vIhH65o0pmc1NSwXsmyPE/s1600/Ranch+2011+044.jpg"><img style="float:left; margin:0 10px 10px 0;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 134px; height: 200px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj3o6ET8ZoDOLLKsLvOFwtZGohdSNlJOP5h-bUpuHJ_BEMEa_Ag8ovhf-O5cclGgwPllN3h5hKpTL0bj5Y2xSmIW7lgEbkOXK6R4SqgHrlLc_zzlHa1964WOt_vIhH65o0pmc1NSwXsmyPE/s200/Ranch+2011+044.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5628181065794834770" /></a><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjP6HgELVIxq5VY_s8WGCnotd4Indh_FJ6N_GpjX2EFIS6gUHvt9r0WKA_pR41mZXaRuF108M_GlY3ZkuZ2_Va6yPsFrNp41HkVW4hdNilDkUxgYE1x56uMBF948lYvtSbJVSUg552IhhyphenhyphenK/s1600/Ranch+2011+090.jpg"><img style="float:left; margin:0 10px 10px 0;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 200px; height: 134px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjP6HgELVIxq5VY_s8WGCnotd4Indh_FJ6N_GpjX2EFIS6gUHvt9r0WKA_pR41mZXaRuF108M_GlY3ZkuZ2_Va6yPsFrNp41HkVW4hdNilDkUxgYE1x56uMBF948lYvtSbJVSUg552IhhyphenhyphenK/s200/Ranch+2011+090.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5628181064313684146" /></a><br /> So so fun and a good way to say farewell, bite the bullet and actually move ourselves 3000 miles away. <br /><br />Whew. That was a little rough. But we are getting the hang of it. Fortunately, a week after we moved in, Olivia and her family came and visited for the 4th of July. I could have holed up in my house for weeks, just putting stuff away and convincing myself that I had neither the time nor the inclination to go anywhere and explore. But go and explore we did: We went to Boston on the 4th and then spent the next 5 days entertaining our kids at the farm, local ice cream shops, lake, beach and pool. They had so much fun...maybe a little too much fun. Maybe non-stop entertainment is NOT the best thing for kids??? They loved playing all day and it was so fun to have familiar faces here. When Olivia left, she said, "I think you live in a really cool place." And that has really helped me get more comfortable in this new place that I am supposed to call home.<br />One more thing: I have become quite the chef in the past year. I think I decided to cook myself through all of the moving and house stress. It has worked and a few people have benefited from it. And last week my sister in law even taught me how to make a decent loaf of bread. Not decent, like freaking outstanding! It's amazing. I am addicted and make bread almost everyday now. Yeah, I make bread. Still not grinding my own wheat, and maybe I never will, but...we also made jam and we decided that we could almost pass as pioneer women.Ashleyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17321572932421628197noreply@blogger.com10tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5017694495112892758.post-56821846289295539062011-04-07T18:05:00.000-07:002011-04-07T18:33:39.541-07:004 year olds rock<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi-bIgceKCDAha8LjfXKHz6FHye5UUATayY-MBaX8Y2dTLhTQqLONRf0LEKboFZ9c66dTnfUUsG14aDlglm4N_kZJQVWhtn0Ne18SiyGqulqTsG5GFYD0fGcnF7LY3VzKBRHR4hnKFUMB00/s1600/P4075230.JPG"><img style="float:left; margin:0 10px 10px 0;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 150px; height: 200px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi-bIgceKCDAha8LjfXKHz6FHye5UUATayY-MBaX8Y2dTLhTQqLONRf0LEKboFZ9c66dTnfUUsG14aDlglm4N_kZJQVWhtn0Ne18SiyGqulqTsG5GFYD0fGcnF7LY3VzKBRHR4hnKFUMB00/s200/P4075230.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5593015960121807218" /></a><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjbCcEDA8Qq2ds7FFTRAfW9OtzEskzEOXaoREDqEZ_kRpfThTvvpKpBRtwHHZgJtRoQPslUFTSUeeyxS5WNBv8gcUaxAmkkYw_YXM1w4gOM7sj2LihAp6_QOKEe848wufYDO3lwqIUVCDJi/s1600/P4075211.JPG"><img style="float:right; margin:0 0 10px 10px;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 200px; height: 150px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjbCcEDA8Qq2ds7FFTRAfW9OtzEskzEOXaoREDqEZ_kRpfThTvvpKpBRtwHHZgJtRoQPslUFTSUeeyxS5WNBv8gcUaxAmkkYw_YXM1w4gOM7sj2LihAp6_QOKEe848wufYDO3lwqIUVCDJi/s200/P4075211.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5593014023812722258" /></a><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhvX2cG-TCalLSqu7W_HugBcmU3C13ecxCXqVcPA3x7H0UzzL_asX3i8CPGJ7ncQFG7QDY71LluKQHvvykGcNWRA51TpJW6x0bpGqnJvNnChpkeePy7Ubb-3QlR54Sk1fGj9udkNpq-EEi-/s1600/P4075206.JPG"><img style="float:right; margin:0 0 10px 10px;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 200px; height: 150px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhvX2cG-TCalLSqu7W_HugBcmU3C13ecxCXqVcPA3x7H0UzzL_asX3i8CPGJ7ncQFG7QDY71LluKQHvvykGcNWRA51TpJW6x0bpGqnJvNnChpkeePy7Ubb-3QlR54Sk1fGj9udkNpq-EEi-/s200/P4075206.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5593014016711111938" /></a><br />Someone wise once said "4 year olds rock." Maybe it was me that said it; in any case, whoever did was right--they do. Today my Eli is 4 years old. I remember thinking about this day, wondering how weird it would feel to be the mom of a 4 year old when Adam graduated. But here we are, almost fully functioning adults, and it is not weird. It is awesome. Because, again, 4 year olds are awesome. In the last year, Eli has gone from making me feel like I am constantly treading water, to making me feel like there are few people in the world that I would rather sit down and chat with than my own son. He is fun, funny, conversational and witty and hard to keep up with in a totally awesome, extra calorie burning (no longer frustratingly, mind numbingly difficult) way. I love Eli for everything he does to remind me of my husband, whom I also adore. I see absolutely nothing of myself in him. But as I listen to him rattle off quirky made up songs, stubbornly insist on doing things his way (which more often than not turn out to be pretty creative and ingenious,) be a clothes hater, and run circles around me (literally) and everyone else I feel like I get a window into what my husband's childhood must have been like. And at worst, that is humorously frustrating, but at best totally hilarious, interesting and endearing. I am so happy that Eli is in our family. He pretty much makes us what we are. And I like what we are. Love you E.<br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEglRfR4Ism5KBznk2Q3cfA2XwsieuZ214krtuJUA3yjLHw3L8nXZYvJsOYMWkHF62z4mn22CoI1FfFSfCk51NoOKct_A2r6_vS9gotAjJvEGPtzi9Inyit4wE0UH6v8MJEOq9huK1IXPBD5/s1600/P4075246.JPG"><img style="float:right; margin:0 0 10px 10px;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 200px; height: 150px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEglRfR4Ism5KBznk2Q3cfA2XwsieuZ214krtuJUA3yjLHw3L8nXZYvJsOYMWkHF62z4mn22CoI1FfFSfCk51NoOKct_A2r6_vS9gotAjJvEGPtzi9Inyit4wE0UH6v8MJEOq9huK1IXPBD5/s200/P4075246.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5593017249596752258" /></a><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEidr9WLnZM2d2FcN19yS8tF0nB91QoucepofZ2khM39gDAgvDQwFQlzkgTJH7sFE-GaekagesCfca_RIV48soCJk2wlTar2Un2G_e8ZKJBeS5NJX-9bA5lVE09Vu22xvn1nmiVw-zvRaww1/s1600/P4075242.JPG"><img style="float:left; margin:0 10px 10px 0;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 200px; height: 150px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEidr9WLnZM2d2FcN19yS8tF0nB91QoucepofZ2khM39gDAgvDQwFQlzkgTJH7sFE-GaekagesCfca_RIV48soCJk2wlTar2Un2G_e8ZKJBeS5NJX-9bA5lVE09Vu22xvn1nmiVw-zvRaww1/s200/P4075242.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5593015968784030546" /></a><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjCcpsFSufnprpn_mjRo41v-T1McnJohzsWjg99KaDP3lSREI-LzUtmGOixxF191x8Kn-VMkVWDKOJk3qONhd7K3FGxhXj7ch3k82uetonCHnF0Pw-zZx1t4tgO5mYNmStj9zTkP-VJCfpF/s1600/P4075252.JPG"><img style="float:left; margin:0 10px 10px 0;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 200px; height: 150px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjCcpsFSufnprpn_mjRo41v-T1McnJohzsWjg99KaDP3lSREI-LzUtmGOixxF191x8Kn-VMkVWDKOJk3qONhd7K3FGxhXj7ch3k82uetonCHnF0Pw-zZx1t4tgO5mYNmStj9zTkP-VJCfpF/s200/P4075252.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5593018746205701650" /></a><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhGKmiv6RBeUg5WR2FS388lA6155q99if6EDs447IRDnOsGjB4ESqOqLcD10_4awOQXe5dHoMrRbp_s5rtUrPswScisrZd2E9LcMBGKhGJgmDFNS9lMmJ0upx9E98vyOJdLMcmhrJh1Mbkr/s1600/P4075250.JPG"><img style="float:left; margin:0 10px 10px 0;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 200px; height: 150px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhGKmiv6RBeUg5WR2FS388lA6155q99if6EDs447IRDnOsGjB4ESqOqLcD10_4awOQXe5dHoMrRbp_s5rtUrPswScisrZd2E9LcMBGKhGJgmDFNS9lMmJ0upx9E98vyOJdLMcmhrJh1Mbkr/s200/P4075250.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5593018736762892098" /></a><br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgSmMAAXK8vSYGEBPFWh0cdsbwf5NFN3ueZ7jWY4DMz_5BuxRYKjqcqeyW9ghKen77i6QG0jY-SFGGqIqu1Wh_ZRuswW-3slis9ObU_IdG8FuCOrGpiiDdec_FkX8BCYx4kjBDp5kg5BZnL/s1600/P4075256.JPG"><img style="float:right; margin:0 0 10px 10px;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 200px; height: 150px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgSmMAAXK8vSYGEBPFWh0cdsbwf5NFN3ueZ7jWY4DMz_5BuxRYKjqcqeyW9ghKen77i6QG0jY-SFGGqIqu1Wh_ZRuswW-3slis9ObU_IdG8FuCOrGpiiDdec_FkX8BCYx4kjBDp5kg5BZnL/s200/P4075256.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5593019667759773090" /></a>Ashleyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17321572932421628197noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5017694495112892758.post-34552922065365630712011-03-20T14:07:00.000-07:002011-03-20T15:04:47.398-07:00Fluffer turns one<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi92msteejc71jDltd5RI4E5y_MBgm6ZEzu87dnTqZonxAaAvrHgeoCn2HbdjlV9YRycZOsQBTeOrFoZzbeYC5AqRWzuMR6s4vhZ-ezw_uPSkEbmPdaXqtKsoOFwT-rACAayw87yhw3rLfc/s1600/FLuffer+walk.jpg"><img style="float:left; margin:0 10px 10px 0;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 200px; height: 200px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi92msteejc71jDltd5RI4E5y_MBgm6ZEzu87dnTqZonxAaAvrHgeoCn2HbdjlV9YRycZOsQBTeOrFoZzbeYC5AqRWzuMR6s4vhZ-ezw_uPSkEbmPdaXqtKsoOFwT-rACAayw87yhw3rLfc/s200/FLuffer+walk.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5586280936947897058" /></a><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj6vVer0ry0VQnj6jrs1BER4KXAfYmh91lELvQR0hMkV9tTmGzVrxsmqv9vcjF2uhpa-0YA62zK4UumhjfiBGTehd8qalmMP17F0tXHefyPieuQMHjy24B3Hsc9GelI6nAnM3j-iAxnR46j/s1600/alphaberry.jpg"><img style="float:left; margin:0 10px 10px 0;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 200px; height: 150px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj6vVer0ry0VQnj6jrs1BER4KXAfYmh91lELvQR0hMkV9tTmGzVrxsmqv9vcjF2uhpa-0YA62zK4UumhjfiBGTehd8qalmMP17F0tXHefyPieuQMHjy24B3Hsc9GelI6nAnM3j-iAxnR46j/s200/alphaberry.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5586280932535987362" /></a><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhBdPiR-x36f0fOsk2x56-RhXRJ-ZLPNtlxB73hggRPnSED15yhbnKASU7U-lPxS93iMgmPngAvj7EG6RzMXeDHJckuNv1J4Wv_xlInwigEHaUQQ0Bbj7z2lWTzz3HpEoIllp96Ner_uoIb/s1600/IMGP2250.JPG"><img style="float:right; margin:0 0 10px 10px;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 150px; height: 200px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhBdPiR-x36f0fOsk2x56-RhXRJ-ZLPNtlxB73hggRPnSED15yhbnKASU7U-lPxS93iMgmPngAvj7EG6RzMXeDHJckuNv1J4Wv_xlInwigEHaUQQ0Bbj7z2lWTzz3HpEoIllp96Ner_uoIb/s200/IMGP2250.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5586277510965496690" /></a><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg-aa9lONcspy_ZJj-u9G_toYPKw6id2Usw64FoPq3nZwSzov9pTVDf8E1aJdZZrSw5xiQW768hsweP9oAhklBn9m8uLsdxUYqx3LnKcN-FeNHfJQEEmTB4vztn9oTX6JKEEjMzjIpzryt6/s1600/IMGP2247.JPG"><img style="float:right; margin:0 0 10px 10px;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 200px; height: 150px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg-aa9lONcspy_ZJj-u9G_toYPKw6id2Usw64FoPq3nZwSzov9pTVDf8E1aJdZZrSw5xiQW768hsweP9oAhklBn9m8uLsdxUYqx3LnKcN-FeNHfJQEEmTB4vztn9oTX6JKEEjMzjIpzryt6/s200/IMGP2247.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5586277501568488034" /></a><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgeOW3WrxhnnLyJP5t1cMFWAFOd0i0TybuW6Bxx8-46AI9V4onpQgFvoOaW_-_vgEkRXMa_Uoh_LoP3-FZlBgRrea1KgDpM9UyrLvIUk_4cXQ6Ios-pDlmV1O3axrokeQOE85Y3XuANvXHe/s1600/IMGP2246.JPG"><img style="float:left; margin:0 10px 10px 0;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 150px; height: 200px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgeOW3WrxhnnLyJP5t1cMFWAFOd0i0TybuW6Bxx8-46AI9V4onpQgFvoOaW_-_vgEkRXMa_Uoh_LoP3-FZlBgRrea1KgDpM9UyrLvIUk_4cXQ6Ios-pDlmV1O3axrokeQOE85Y3XuANvXHe/s200/IMGP2246.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5586276787421147090" /></a><br />Maybe we need to back off of the Fluffer Nutter nickname--Tate wouldn't touch his birthday cake; apparently he has decided to trim down a bit by walking everyday and adhering to a strict diet. He exhibited some serious self control because this was no run of the mill birthday cake: I made a triple chocolate, sweetened condensed milk infused, double layer cake with one layer of homemade caramel and one layer of vanilla frosting. He didn't want it, which was unfortunate because it just made me want it more. <br /><br />The day was ordinary enough. Play around the house, a trip to Target, lunch, naps, park, BYU basketball, dinner and cake and presents. I just didn't have it in me to do a one year old party. With Tate's birthday timed right in the middle of Adam's dental boards and my prolonged meltdown over how to move 3000 miles away and the larger issue of what the freak to do with our house...sigh. And yes, I am aware that there is a nuclear meltdown in Japan, people dying in Libya and myriad deaths resulting from recent earthquakes, tsunamis and wars and I should shut my mouth about my stupid house and Adam's test. I am just saying both of us were far more inclined to celebrate our mischievous little munchkin in a more relaxed, mundane fashion. <br /><br />Which brings me to why I love Tate so much. He is easygoing, relatively anyway for an inherent independent spirit who is inhibited by feet that don't move fast enough and screams that don't communicate well enough. He always has a smile for anyone. He is patient and endearing and sensitive...things that I am still learning to understand since I do not have much experience dealing with that sort of people. (It's been over 6 years since I have lived with anyone like that!) Most of all, he loves and adores me. Worships me really. He wants me to hold him and hug him and play with him--also, a new experience for me. I am so confident that this little boy thinks that I am awesome that some days, nothing else matters. Some days it does, and that is just life. But I love being Tate's mom. He has been so fun to have over this whirlwind year. Tate has brought laughter and lightheartedness to our family. He has made our family more complete than it was. I get such a kick out of watching him explore and topple and get up and do it again. So cheers to Fluffer. Good job being born, we love you and think that you rock.<br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhxfynVQa3C3nlSgc9m9tOHbXc3MC32pSS4hnGSbGg9DWr6CuCsl9v4rendys1TgHe6qq7N7rGdLrnUOVrYNbmQZGm6exVMoIUaLKOgsdTQdCURgFKTb5dYubrAb2cKS_FIxh8GWXFk2fYx/s1600/2.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 200px; height: 150px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhxfynVQa3C3nlSgc9m9tOHbXc3MC32pSS4hnGSbGg9DWr6CuCsl9v4rendys1TgHe6qq7N7rGdLrnUOVrYNbmQZGm6exVMoIUaLKOgsdTQdCURgFKTb5dYubrAb2cKS_FIxh8GWXFk2fYx/s200/2.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5586286421513097154" /></a><br /><br />PS I am sorry if anyone is offended that my boys never have clothes on. That's just how we roll here.Ashleyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17321572932421628197noreply@blogger.com7tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5017694495112892758.post-50723114243414763542011-01-19T15:27:00.000-08:002011-01-20T15:41:50.336-08:00This makes me want to move to Montana<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgc-UdPL6V_3y6nOuHRyN3BPk4moFF2f9B4xbv0WghNmnra8qV4tAnu9kgsukl4djSu-AEB8BCkuGuLpR5BEitFLr9ioOIVTgnX12GQM0U8SKPZ79qFEbk-m0tp02K95WwZfOghLOyIH_EP/s1600/P1175133.JPG"><img style="float:left; margin:0 10px 10px 0;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 150px; height: 200px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgc-UdPL6V_3y6nOuHRyN3BPk4moFF2f9B4xbv0WghNmnra8qV4tAnu9kgsukl4djSu-AEB8BCkuGuLpR5BEitFLr9ioOIVTgnX12GQM0U8SKPZ79qFEbk-m0tp02K95WwZfOghLOyIH_EP/s200/P1175133.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5564411706885603778" /></a><br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj2hLUP-H5s-29rz1OzI-MY-7YXB0qLZUDuAOlGN0uOpogDSy9t_q2TFAG6K7gK8quZj6K3-hqgnDIK6B5my1Kw6HnTyB4QlWf7x-Zj00sByN_B-a-zQPBIGiCOD94EL-De5QRjHn0NsaDV/s1600/P1175105.JPG"><img style="float:right; margin:0 0 10px 10px;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 150px; height: 200px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj2hLUP-H5s-29rz1OzI-MY-7YXB0qLZUDuAOlGN0uOpogDSy9t_q2TFAG6K7gK8quZj6K3-hqgnDIK6B5my1Kw6HnTyB4QlWf7x-Zj00sByN_B-a-zQPBIGiCOD94EL-De5QRjHn0NsaDV/s200/P1175105.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5564046756907388002" /></a><br />and tell my kids to go play outside and be home before dinner. Maybe I need to move to another century (not state) to fulfill that dream...anyway, speaking of dreams, we went to Joshua Tree to celebrate MLK day. And we had a blast. Joshua Tree is a slightly less cool version of Moab. But it is totally awesome for kids who want to run and climb unrestricted until they are on the brink of dehydration and exhaustion--which we mostly let them do. It won't shock you that Eli only partially liked being in a harness to climb on rocks. But he did really well and we all enjoyed basking and climbing in 85 degree weather in January. And they even let us live our dream for free. So Joshua Tree truly rocks.<br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjZ75vKUtviYpI_-aBk3ocNJdIQXacrwch4WB-oR82ZrgG6sdr-z1O3fIOayDa-f5Lp3ZiOz3kk8AlMNcBCFIjdOsmAbhunQ7kmdBwOf9W8MXH2KC6mWVRo1ubmhq9I2VfvesqSQolLQS0J/s1600/P1175117.JPG"><img style="float:right; margin:0 0 10px 10px;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 200px; height: 150px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjZ75vKUtviYpI_-aBk3ocNJdIQXacrwch4WB-oR82ZrgG6sdr-z1O3fIOayDa-f5Lp3ZiOz3kk8AlMNcBCFIjdOsmAbhunQ7kmdBwOf9W8MXH2KC6mWVRo1ubmhq9I2VfvesqSQolLQS0J/s200/P1175117.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5564407903127739762" /></a><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEifySD_saFgA1PRbEXxh3d2uCr2z6sXFlpvB-UDekXQtdF7NCGQQbbiNtngMTSlBLcxxUgtTgVMjVsh4QZAI-nvAMRKhw8pgfnwGuNVG6H1HnGRYs4A9A8hpTS1u_jp8vgqwNmZNNLSs8hy/s1600/P1175112.JPG"><img style="float:right; margin:0 0 10px 10px;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 200px; height: 150px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEifySD_saFgA1PRbEXxh3d2uCr2z6sXFlpvB-UDekXQtdF7NCGQQbbiNtngMTSlBLcxxUgtTgVMjVsh4QZAI-nvAMRKhw8pgfnwGuNVG6H1HnGRYs4A9A8hpTS1u_jp8vgqwNmZNNLSs8hy/s200/P1175112.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5564407887529037906" /></a><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi3QNAAfye7m5uGXJwcjkqxaIzLWskwM0IN_ndWwbfyThvyvVXjGMjewMroHhHuSWNnnX0p_XUBhrCqhF7CCA1auj7T13qGjMH19vQvGU_LonObx12iHXWKTQHrX4R1DgI7n8yv-WTgLuwk/s1600/P1175108.JPG"><img style="float:right; margin:0 0 10px 10px;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 150px; height: 200px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi3QNAAfye7m5uGXJwcjkqxaIzLWskwM0IN_ndWwbfyThvyvVXjGMjewMroHhHuSWNnnX0p_XUBhrCqhF7CCA1auj7T13qGjMH19vQvGU_LonObx12iHXWKTQHrX4R1DgI7n8yv-WTgLuwk/s200/P1175108.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5564046759122167522" /></a><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgI6trdNR_0EuQ92qFtI5ujXzPm0_YiNUxv9qCo_pkMvk9lzMaD-Ny8Zw2AxkdQ4peBt9YTagdwnPm90nHHIDftH-TOGzpjITpuEhaKk3cUMq9Sq5JUFTvrExfTQSmeorV2gC55Xg2Sju5r/s1600/P1175132.JPG"><img style="float:left; margin:0 10px 10px 0;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 150px; height: 200px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgI6trdNR_0EuQ92qFtI5ujXzPm0_YiNUxv9qCo_pkMvk9lzMaD-Ny8Zw2AxkdQ4peBt9YTagdwnPm90nHHIDftH-TOGzpjITpuEhaKk3cUMq9Sq5JUFTvrExfTQSmeorV2gC55Xg2Sju5r/s200/P1175132.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5564411735790868274" /></a><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjF7kEOJkcbEQfehjsWM95aR5D5_CPpRy3ADeuFeky_ai_-5nNynaXJvb2hRO8GMUjeVqN9FnPZXlRXBSyfY83QI4RA-qg0bMYcZMz5WKMGujMjN1BGgBibFPSQXlVBY5AFQpgTRGrQWy7B/s1600/P1175130.JPG"><img style="float:left; margin:0 10px 10px 0;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 150px; height: 200px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjF7kEOJkcbEQfehjsWM95aR5D5_CPpRy3ADeuFeky_ai_-5nNynaXJvb2hRO8GMUjeVqN9FnPZXlRXBSyfY83QI4RA-qg0bMYcZMz5WKMGujMjN1BGgBibFPSQXlVBY5AFQpgTRGrQWy7B/s200/P1175130.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5564411719586625858" /></a><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhf5qGKAvSkVURrN8TKFX3TF5erY6rhcHi3ksoDghpwAe4iBkVSDvcFn3QBzSb7dcoga5eW6UlK8RXUAXIwiMKGWHvFU9kJtjks7RQUpJl3p3QsYcSVbrv31jGBfrzSFVjaZVTWDtA49vzF/s1600/P1175136.JPG"><img style="float:right; margin:0 0 10px 10px;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 150px; height: 200px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhf5qGKAvSkVURrN8TKFX3TF5erY6rhcHi3ksoDghpwAe4iBkVSDvcFn3QBzSb7dcoga5eW6UlK8RXUAXIwiMKGWHvFU9kJtjks7RQUpJl3p3QsYcSVbrv31jGBfrzSFVjaZVTWDtA49vzF/s200/P1175136.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5564415927273362194" /></a><br /><br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi54d8vCFuYxN8QrWuhtpYG9Kr3EPa6DgbhjpfKDmEUXwC_f9N-M1ejvU10Jgf9zoUHrln7CEY-C_t5pTPtj6mc0pOJ5Y_chilCDRl3oMnQfDxsnwb8BEtsphxsRfH_WB_1K8cynVI4ht4o/s1600/P1175118.JPG"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 200px; height: 150px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi54d8vCFuYxN8QrWuhtpYG9Kr3EPa6DgbhjpfKDmEUXwC_f9N-M1ejvU10Jgf9zoUHrln7CEY-C_t5pTPtj6mc0pOJ5Y_chilCDRl3oMnQfDxsnwb8BEtsphxsRfH_WB_1K8cynVI4ht4o/s200/P1175118.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5564416589076842802" /></a><br />This is my favorite-"Here, I will just help you eat the rope Dad..."Ashleyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17321572932421628197noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5017694495112892758.post-44582981476590022192011-01-18T17:13:00.001-08:002011-01-19T15:39:32.347-08:00Since...wheneverSeriously. I am sorry I have become the most boring blogger. All I do is report like once a month now. So here is my lame report that will consist mostly of pictures because I have like 5 seconds:<br /><br />The service project party:<br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjUn7mn8t5QF0Rdgjo8p6tqTyhS8NmYnsgftQyFkw46yqZZpATpxyIfpzoHbxgAEjOESAkjrXlIyUeaVH0s_PtBnWafM9EfKa-IAt4OM-jnHDj5cgec25qbi8bG0JkqXB04tEgFkmR5OToy/s1600/PC135056.JPG"><img style="float:left; margin:0 10px 10px 0;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 200px; height: 150px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjUn7mn8t5QF0Rdgjo8p6tqTyhS8NmYnsgftQyFkw46yqZZpATpxyIfpzoHbxgAEjOESAkjrXlIyUeaVH0s_PtBnWafM9EfKa-IAt4OM-jnHDj5cgec25qbi8bG0JkqXB04tEgFkmR5OToy/s200/PC135056.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5563699854078915010" /></a><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj1Krdk0fNxRL_omUdJsTXx5U5tJgVWFX7HwKfJGeg6hjKqxvrlxh229pVBfymfCDgW6F9fHC7mOY7dDu7eizZlBBMGQmSAVDEdxeFReTVNur22xK9Sb4I4jIseowSJ7AJ0agNzbCPWo0gu/s1600/2.jpg"><img style="float:left; margin:0 10px 10px 0;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 200px; height: 150px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj1Krdk0fNxRL_omUdJsTXx5U5tJgVWFX7HwKfJGeg6hjKqxvrlxh229pVBfymfCDgW6F9fHC7mOY7dDu7eizZlBBMGQmSAVDEdxeFReTVNur22xK9Sb4I4jIseowSJ7AJ0agNzbCPWo0gu/s200/2.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5563699847239958370" /></a><br /><br />The preschool program:<br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiz4V16dY2DMddpGd4HisU3K4lJVSozweseR4SqrX4NsCFFVzbPPV2WQuanRS1DrJ0jED4LPlkQ2gE6Dzida8A4vNJDMzRGmmUsp1lGnK1z-sBPmsbq1PMJAR-1u0AXzdwhxEaf5qMnAEq0/s1600/PC171347.JPG"><img style="float:left; margin:0 10px 10px 0;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 150px; height: 200px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiz4V16dY2DMddpGd4HisU3K4lJVSozweseR4SqrX4NsCFFVzbPPV2WQuanRS1DrJ0jED4LPlkQ2gE6Dzida8A4vNJDMzRGmmUsp1lGnK1z-sBPmsbq1PMJAR-1u0AXzdwhxEaf5qMnAEq0/s200/PC171347.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5564038733978274162" /></a><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEirQ3cgqO40jnKhMxF81vCUgilNdFeRKHQOOpB4H3pr0zxTctmKEi77Q7N8d4bBDrLo_GFPXZf07pPBoR-DVO1grUjl9a2EihEfaEJTqY6KoSR1EPKbb7dxd3_Zh4i-dChMX5vyk282c-ZN/s1600/IMAG0155.jpg"><img style="float:left; margin:0 10px 10px 0;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 134px; height: 200px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEirQ3cgqO40jnKhMxF81vCUgilNdFeRKHQOOpB4H3pr0zxTctmKEi77Q7N8d4bBDrLo_GFPXZf07pPBoR-DVO1grUjl9a2EihEfaEJTqY6KoSR1EPKbb7dxd3_Zh4i-dChMX5vyk282c-ZN/s200/IMAG0155.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5564038726155581890" /></a><br /><br />The Fluff being happy in spite of a week-long bout of viral gastroenteritis...which is a fancy way of saying he was puking for 7 days:<br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhao9uceANnTHyTVyeEu7cWZxkPv8srubeu1pQ-hGPyJjqP6NN2Wed70MDCaSXidz_24RoVSkJtsU8DwBTdPR5QhaXis1DCTsFAVlQ4GNYRpCSILkNZ6lKDrIwjNvSrqP1FWMja-YCMVjt3/s1600/IMAG0186.jpg"><img style="float:right; margin:0 0 10px 10px;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 134px; height: 200px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhao9uceANnTHyTVyeEu7cWZxkPv8srubeu1pQ-hGPyJjqP6NN2Wed70MDCaSXidz_24RoVSkJtsU8DwBTdPR5QhaXis1DCTsFAVlQ4GNYRpCSILkNZ6lKDrIwjNvSrqP1FWMja-YCMVjt3/s200/IMAG0186.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5564034603806964882" /></a><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgxMI2iZvpr3ZPbWQhvsbZPoslnxkHKtjupUCfjDNuyftc6_WwO76d2Wifp9aOlXH-XcjhilwvRNh7JczXpzjHtSiz3LaDmcJhsu5Ihoc6gs4htxOyUv8yRKkUeih95so3TJrQzVu_KTj2-/s1600/Fluff+Clause.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 200px; height: 150px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgxMI2iZvpr3ZPbWQhvsbZPoslnxkHKtjupUCfjDNuyftc6_WwO76d2Wifp9aOlXH-XcjhilwvRNh7JczXpzjHtSiz3LaDmcJhsu5Ihoc6gs4htxOyUv8yRKkUeih95so3TJrQzVu_KTj2-/s200/Fluff+Clause.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5564033976217513042" /></a><br /><br /><br />The pretend Christmas morning:<br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjgtO2N6OHMYion1iXiKglwjNr0obr_0uMkezo7cV08RD5l7hn0YOC4rO9kJH7gLHL4hyphenhyphenvxX5I9HS-MVAuQPBChoIusDkld7tb7TGXlHYzosQl0bs6cT7InHQggGnQYKBC9KNsdXvl4klBk/s1600/PC195078.JPG"><img style="float:left; margin:0 10px 10px 0;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 200px; height: 150px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjgtO2N6OHMYion1iXiKglwjNr0obr_0uMkezo7cV08RD5l7hn0YOC4rO9kJH7gLHL4hyphenhyphenvxX5I9HS-MVAuQPBChoIusDkld7tb7TGXlHYzosQl0bs6cT7InHQggGnQYKBC9KNsdXvl4klBk/s200/PC195078.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5564027579414374018" /></a><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEixngR-LtId7Htv87kDKRAwrSfuvolAleibitSBvIATwusaGKSfjn4EEbiDSNq25hyzJPtMSstufPyMtz9wl7tDFoDgNx1GSEJGsMDUUPr7qO1Xwv022IXlmLIaG-VV29-B-IuKPY1EV3PM/s1600/PC195071.JPG"><img style="float:left; margin:0 10px 10px 0;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 200px; height: 150px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEixngR-LtId7Htv87kDKRAwrSfuvolAleibitSBvIATwusaGKSfjn4EEbiDSNq25hyzJPtMSstufPyMtz9wl7tDFoDgNx1GSEJGsMDUUPr7qO1Xwv022IXlmLIaG-VV29-B-IuKPY1EV3PM/s200/PC195071.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5564027572005005810" /></a><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjAvpJT1256QhbiS8HPT0pQZUpjphqTE0m-xiKh1plYEag8TUdBBev4WTpmpK00OQq_gFWDjsgUBdmyUYP9yCY8jMWDDscWHfhsZ5y_bIzD-ANuPuSaK0Ehwf5ys0zxim4Ra7xH8JbOY58x/s1600/PC195063.JPG"><img style="float:left; margin:0 10px 10px 0;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 200px; height: 150px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjAvpJT1256QhbiS8HPT0pQZUpjphqTE0m-xiKh1plYEag8TUdBBev4WTpmpK00OQq_gFWDjsgUBdmyUYP9yCY8jMWDDscWHfhsZ5y_bIzD-ANuPuSaK0Ehwf5ys0zxim4Ra7xH8JbOY58x/s200/PC195063.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5564027565496579746" /></a><br /><br /><br /><br />The flooding:<br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiS3hRWSi1nCafM4N4UXTapIinFXiJSMgPmIMJSGTMm9nXkLRihp9j4HScnjzsmaLfiV0d9S_ZRMDa8nXwj5YEqSuYsPH0GFgLf3Lwj1Cp19otZWP28rgYdgT5eGBb0kGS0El5_f4FeOAVQ/s1600/IMAG0159.jpg"><img style="float:right; margin:0 0 10px 10px;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 200px; height: 134px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiS3hRWSi1nCafM4N4UXTapIinFXiJSMgPmIMJSGTMm9nXkLRihp9j4HScnjzsmaLfiV0d9S_ZRMDa8nXwj5YEqSuYsPH0GFgLf3Lwj1Cp19otZWP28rgYdgT5eGBb0kGS0El5_f4FeOAVQ/s200/IMAG0159.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5564028954860311426" /></a><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhcU9ITyvWgkA0SfMqeZUmDaXicsOxq7x1lGBptRV_Oz-IOXl-s6IlTaILh4Tx1lGzGTI3PTv-xz0bek1VsMVwIPAzmKrNyFQNnJ71xnzwaVy7wAEDClECkr7oQ-dSTZvTT98zBcKlS9qRt/s1600/IMAG0162.jpg"><img style="float:right; margin:0 0 10px 10px;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 200px; height: 134px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhcU9ITyvWgkA0SfMqeZUmDaXicsOxq7x1lGBptRV_Oz-IOXl-s6IlTaILh4Tx1lGzGTI3PTv-xz0bek1VsMVwIPAzmKrNyFQNnJ71xnzwaVy7wAEDClECkr7oQ-dSTZvTT98zBcKlS9qRt/s200/IMAG0162.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5564028965542281378" /></a><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhyGOBM5xuHeau1tEeMNDnSgsbmQmA4c9fpFexWvGPj7ipnxr35MEVhl_pyrniA_jgzq5uURyF07XdFAwIOnImpsMynoRUGVPSIxfrw6QL2_DO64CIcc5Dgbh1JMJ863ieAWHExQbLOSqJW/s1600/IMAG0163.jpg"><img style="float:right; margin:0 0 10px 10px;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 200px; height: 134px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhyGOBM5xuHeau1tEeMNDnSgsbmQmA4c9fpFexWvGPj7ipnxr35MEVhl_pyrniA_jgzq5uURyF07XdFAwIOnImpsMynoRUGVPSIxfrw6QL2_DO64CIcc5Dgbh1JMJ863ieAWHExQbLOSqJW/s200/IMAG0163.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5564028961538304418" /></a><br /><br /><br /><br /><br />The real Christmas morning:<br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEifMUa_kjcBYD2hPl77-Y_ITnTxKhP4DN6YoyjQwS0R-Wa-ZZBEeccR5-8wqzQOQv-j52IZ-SGdR9DeOyH3nwMwuTCG-9ngr1bfObbCgDQIhao4DopSIn1sSmyz4PZhVVauY_Y4hRE8Rep9/s1600/PC255096.JPG"><img style="float:right; margin:0 0 10px 10px;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 150px; height: 200px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEifMUa_kjcBYD2hPl77-Y_ITnTxKhP4DN6YoyjQwS0R-Wa-ZZBEeccR5-8wqzQOQv-j52IZ-SGdR9DeOyH3nwMwuTCG-9ngr1bfObbCgDQIhao4DopSIn1sSmyz4PZhVVauY_Y4hRE8Rep9/s200/PC255096.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5564043251833601890" /></a><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjas-3iVQsXUKJkl-Hc3MEMOKTe_vuAV1j1IVspHDjDY6XyQk6poyyeP2VbjAIWlivhJK9ca3px4GZjutVYsi0ajKd9No6taSQWI9pBBH1lEZh_tTQ7YEACRYohP9wIYH2HZv6Vmxe95JvV/s1600/PC255091.JPG"><img style="float:right; margin:0 0 10px 10px;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 200px; height: 150px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjas-3iVQsXUKJkl-Hc3MEMOKTe_vuAV1j1IVspHDjDY6XyQk6poyyeP2VbjAIWlivhJK9ca3px4GZjutVYsi0ajKd9No6taSQWI9pBBH1lEZh_tTQ7YEACRYohP9wIYH2HZv6Vmxe95JvV/s200/PC255091.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5564043244676012578" /></a><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhlRs29pZVfsx9QCoKAMAWOqsBO_3lN42liBLQQeB4Df23fdhXSCk0OecfyuWrvlO2axTd4DOX2up-DtMFP56NYlJPyTVHELbwRGS3JxWlG7i7cKRrxYkc-Kbrn0UK0zeVxmRBwu1N9gcXj/s1600/PC255097.JPG"><img style="float:right; margin:0 0 10px 10px;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 200px; height: 150px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhlRs29pZVfsx9QCoKAMAWOqsBO_3lN42liBLQQeB4Df23fdhXSCk0OecfyuWrvlO2axTd4DOX2up-DtMFP56NYlJPyTVHELbwRGS3JxWlG7i7cKRrxYkc-Kbrn0UK0zeVxmRBwu1N9gcXj/s200/PC255097.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5564045543794883954" /></a><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgBef678nzkw-kZZ4pnlt2sgrJlsipHL-AWhFsail1d3lVnshOzD8BoG0zgMNkdyQ2aoGwx0RijW6RiJR3469Pqx5x7Qg7nXluRD99qjlIMausrCwSYgCuG77FFupLHPXHY2Uq0WMautQVD/s1600/PC255084.JPG"><img style="float:right; margin:0 0 10px 10px;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 150px; height: 200px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgBef678nzkw-kZZ4pnlt2sgrJlsipHL-AWhFsail1d3lVnshOzD8BoG0zgMNkdyQ2aoGwx0RijW6RiJR3469Pqx5x7Qg7nXluRD99qjlIMausrCwSYgCuG77FFupLHPXHY2Uq0WMautQVD/s200/PC255084.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5564045540044770786" /></a><br /><br /><br /><br />The resulting train station that was formerly Eli and Tate's room:<br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjG2pnGeuSB_LvFqpECl8eNLXZVuLl2BbwWb8lyzIO97kijLcQbZw4LWDTeO8JgW_Qzn81E2tOc8TEfNHob6cle69hIo8x55dxdMU7VEgDeZ1tK_SWFdSbYTQ4gY_TV9TNek3Xda-BGwfmy/s1600/IMAG0187.jpg"><img style="float:right; margin:0 0 10px 10px;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 134px; height: 200px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjG2pnGeuSB_LvFqpECl8eNLXZVuLl2BbwWb8lyzIO97kijLcQbZw4LWDTeO8JgW_Qzn81E2tOc8TEfNHob6cle69hIo8x55dxdMU7VEgDeZ1tK_SWFdSbYTQ4gY_TV9TNek3Xda-BGwfmy/s200/IMAG0187.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5564034599781890754" /></a><br /><br /><br /><br /><br />The epic snowboarding day:<br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiz9o1cm9JpqSZt5PRjyBvKlDcNOzfywhrx1ybMy9utruj_o_IUdpxUgFhjDiJfQGANCmbsWZadZIOj-ePGdnVzzJKcyrnOSBt2VA1Mp_ijphTxZ7m7eeeXf4oG7s2BdvwGmsSilbrU1uYf/s1600/IMAG0182.jpg"><img style="float:right; margin:0 0 10px 10px;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 200px; height: 134px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiz9o1cm9JpqSZt5PRjyBvKlDcNOzfywhrx1ybMy9utruj_o_IUdpxUgFhjDiJfQGANCmbsWZadZIOj-ePGdnVzzJKcyrnOSBt2VA1Mp_ijphTxZ7m7eeeXf4oG7s2BdvwGmsSilbrU1uYf/s200/IMAG0182.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5564033534358209970" /></a><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgealh3W6rTJaGhJmISBBFqZI5YShyphenhyphenbQ3FwYJqkyyH4q_s_whvkUv-9dL_FpUs4OlB6u1103R2N9mHLHtpeXHYqzUnu1PwFMKup6YfSk-HC-pht8dBqshPYt7PIIKAUzdp694zhoXuB7HfJ/s1600/IMAG0181.jpg"><img style="float:right; margin:0 0 10px 10px;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 200px; height: 134px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgealh3W6rTJaGhJmISBBFqZI5YShyphenhyphenbQ3FwYJqkyyH4q_s_whvkUv-9dL_FpUs4OlB6u1103R2N9mHLHtpeXHYqzUnu1PwFMKup6YfSk-HC-pht8dBqshPYt7PIIKAUzdp694zhoXuB7HfJ/s200/IMAG0181.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5564033530061512914" /></a><br />The epic running day:<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgj5VhKQ8xvb1WpxGpifIWFJtweXWeDpD6xQwF_quKSvTB3nzi8ZRxmJnb1lCRYAlzoL3ZBY_9q5KeZ4y7RSRm4pE4lSpC9c4PzP393xw07JoUMPOSDQxMXFTJr3IhGsFQ1t_1opcTs2u6o/s1600/163414_127672647295036_100001569041873_174173_1524500_n.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 200px; height: 150px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgj5VhKQ8xvb1WpxGpifIWFJtweXWeDpD6xQwF_quKSvTB3nzi8ZRxmJnb1lCRYAlzoL3ZBY_9q5KeZ4y7RSRm4pE4lSpC9c4PzP393xw07JoUMPOSDQxMXFTJr3IhGsFQ1t_1opcTs2u6o/s200/163414_127672647295036_100001569041873_174173_1524500_n.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5564033108365652866" /></a>Ashleyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17321572932421628197noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5017694495112892758.post-26990417947170729472010-12-13T15:41:00.001-08:002010-12-13T15:47:41.177-08:00Our Christmas card<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg4xt6MOCcw8cP1hB9GS2ij82vw998yvpLXn7qw_XVyrQt5sXPZnVHZi4b3pnhgyw8dLMBlkPKrvHBBj1tAVZR8JKajb9HIGDh9ksqo4js-N1O1wfOmbTBKOD2xslLp0b1UNTw2TvHtumXg/s1600/Christmas+card+1.JPG"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 200px; height: 150px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg4xt6MOCcw8cP1hB9GS2ij82vw998yvpLXn7qw_XVyrQt5sXPZnVHZi4b3pnhgyw8dLMBlkPKrvHBBj1tAVZR8JKajb9HIGDh9ksqo4js-N1O1wfOmbTBKOD2xslLp0b1UNTw2TvHtumXg/s200/Christmas+card+1.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5550316413393361730" /></a><br /><br />Well, I believe I began last year's report with a joke concerning my refusal to join Facebook; so I suppose the introductory joke this year is that my friends will probably be reading this on Facebook.<br /><br />Besides that most momentous of occasions--mine and Adam's conversion to the cult of Facebook-- 2010 has gone pretty similarly to the three years preceding it: We cleaned up many messes, tried to be nice, got farther into debt and vacationed in Utah. Glamorous right? Other than that, our second son Tate, otherwise lovingly known as Fluffer Nutter, Tater Fluff, or simply Fluff, was born in March...so that was a pretty big deal too. It’s a short report. That being the case, let's discuss the things to which we are looking forward for 2011, shall we?<br /><br />Adam will graduate from the Loma Linda School of Dentistry in May. He has worked incredibly hard and for many obvious reasons, we are looking forward to it. I have also finally managed to convince him that running is a good idea. Adam is mostly eager to graduate and begin working; we are both eager to follow the advice of propets and economists alike as we begin our ascent out of debt.<br /><br />Eli is looking forward to perfecting his sharing, listening and being nice to Tate skills on which we have so diligently worked this year. He hopes to amass as many gold stars for practicing those skills as possible. He continually asks me if he can do this or that when his 4…so we have a lot to accomplish beginning April 7th. His tenacity, persistence and energy never cease to amaze us.<br /><br />Tate is looking forward to being old and big enough to withstand Eli’s attempts to wrestle, smother and generally torment him. He has perfected the speed crawl in an effort to flee his attacker; but unfortunatley his girth, speed, and overall sweet, smiley and adorable temperament have been largely ineffective tools of evasion. <br /><br />Much of the same could be said for Duane: He spends most of his time trying to avoid attack. Duane’s enthusiasm for running has waned as much as Adam’s has increased. I believe he is hoping to soon become a lap dog…not gonna happen.<br /><br />All that being said, I am most looking forward to being able to have my boys in the same room without anyone getting hurt. And yes, I realize this could be years away. I am also ready to begin a new chapter in our lives. Mostly I try (try being the operative word in all of this) as often as I can to pause when my boys laugh together, show me or each other affection or do something so hilarious that I am forced to smile and laugh out loud. I measure my level of success as a person and a parent by those moments. <br /><br />So at this time of year, I have more successes than failures. I think the nature of this most wonderful time of the year is God’s gift to mankind. For that, and countless other blessings, I am indeed grateful. Merry merry Christmas to you; we wish you a more plentiful amount of smile making moments.<br /><br />Love, <br />Adam, Ashley, Eli, Tate and DuaneAshleyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17321572932421628197noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5017694495112892758.post-23664292760750684732010-12-09T13:08:00.000-08:002010-12-09T15:04:52.607-08:00Today was a fairytaleNot the courtroom kind I used to dream about. And certainly not the Taylor Swift kind. It centered around baking dozens of cookies for several upcoming Christmas parties whilst listening to the highly appealing background sounds of Christmas music, E accurately identifying alphabet letters on his computer, and Tate laughing while playing with Duane. There was also a Vanilla Coke Zero involved, the delectable scent of french vanilla cake cookies (apparently I am a mega fan of vanilla) and NO, I repeat NO, crying, fighting, yelling or breaking of household items. And for a brief moment, I thought "I am a damn good mother!" and then I realized soon after that I wasn't since I had thought that.<br /><br />I had a similar sentiment as I was putting together our Christmas cards the other day; that activity also involved some Diet Dr. Pepper and Christmas music which almost always equals a good mood. When we took our Christmas pictures, I looked through them 100 times, slightly disappointed that there was not a perfect one that I loved, and that in each one someone was doing something not to my liking. But as I assemebled them, looking at the picture I ultimately chose over and over and over again, I started to just love it for all of its flaws; because they highlight perfectly the personalities of all of the people in it that I adore. It's like when you spend enough time with someone, you start to love them in spite of--if not <span style="font-style:italic;">for</span>-- their inherent flaws. The more I look at our picture, the less I care that Eli isn't looking at the camera, that Tate is drooling and that Adam isn't wearing a huge grin. I am even over the fact that my hair looks like I got electrocuted and that Duane got my shirt all dirty.<br /><br />I tell you this not to annoy the hell out of you, (see I'm really not a good mother because now I have sworn twice in one post) but to highlight the wonderfulness of the most wonderful time of the year. In church last Sunday, a lady mentioned that she just loved this season because she could feel the spirit of Christ while wrapping presents and decorating the house...it won't shock you that Adam totally made fun of her for that, but I defended her: I think what she meant is that everything is just easier this time of year. Feeling the spirit is easier, getting along is easier, accepting imperfections is easier, simple things elicit immensely strong feelings of gratitude...and even I can have a fairytale morning with my kids.<br /><br />PS Allison, these are what the cookies were <span style="font-style:italic;">supposed </span>to look like<br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhk8JuP4OaVPTgdzsViAn2CYtMtbIr_vWBi8ujidLh7GDG6qgiukIZEFgiODRsjWLRVBPoXgDMpyCcK0mvM1K_kJ3cXdZlFMAPnrOuLuWxog9i8h3_wK2P-wq_Cr9dCaEeIRaU8GsT3MnI6/s1600/cookies.jpg"><img style="float:left; margin:0 10px 10px 0;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 200px; height: 150px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhk8JuP4OaVPTgdzsViAn2CYtMtbIr_vWBi8ujidLh7GDG6qgiukIZEFgiODRsjWLRVBPoXgDMpyCcK0mvM1K_kJ3cXdZlFMAPnrOuLuWxog9i8h3_wK2P-wq_Cr9dCaEeIRaU8GsT3MnI6/s200/cookies.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5548818072880413762" /></a>Ashleyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17321572932421628197noreply@blogger.com5tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5017694495112892758.post-39056562253037505822010-11-22T14:33:00.000-08:002010-11-22T15:46:52.879-08:00Recently:<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://images.jcpportraits.com/showMedThumb?7FgpZHyS2ixe0nr6grwxud6YziJVDu7vH7XFcTy39ywh7RgeSXP4YcJAxL2Q3F6rD9rRrsaIyX4bDQhwjgrOO6qB6kywhHIsfVzwvmhA6kI84EG7bIQnXSM="><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 366px; height: 640px;" src="http://images.jcpportraits.com/showMedThumb?7FgpZHyS2ixe0nr6grwxud6YziJVDu7vH7XFcTy39ywh7RgeSXP4YcJAxL2Q3F6rD9rRrsaIyX4bDQhwjgrOO6qB6kywhHIsfVzwvmhA6kI84EG7bIQnXSM=" border="0" alt="" /></a><br />-Just took the boys to get pictures taken. They turned out all right. I will not go back to JCPenney though, and granted, they probably don't want us back either: They were an HOUR behind schedule and I used a coupon and only bought two pictures. And Eli broke a decoration--seriously, that is what they get for being behind... who puts breakable Christmas decor right outside the portrait studio??? Get a clue. I told them I knew that was what would happen if I was there for more than 20 minutes; so that is what they get for making me sit there and try and keep my kids happy and cute and clean for a flipping hour. <br />-Our external hard drive and both computers pretty much all croaked at the same time. The laptop still functions. 800 bucks to recover all of our pictures. Fortunatley I have most of them uploaded to Costco and printed out in books. And we can limp along with one special computer until Adam graduates. Oh and our car needed a bunch of work too. Microwave is dying a slow death... Good timing right?<br />-I have become obsessed with Yoga. I joined the <a href="http://www.redlandsyoga.com/">Yoga Room</a> gym as my Christmas present (early) from my mom and Adam. I love it. I am a late convert. I used to go in high school and get so irritated when I didn't sweat or raise my heartrate and <span style="font-style:italic;">then</span> the instructor wanted me to lay there for like ten minutes and relax! But now I think my kids just thoroughly stress me out enough that I like someone to force me to just chill out for a few minutes. That, and this place is awesome. My original objection to yoga-that it is not a sufficient workout-is addressed here; I sweat from my freaking eyebrows and toes.<br />-Adam has been a total champ in school and work and everything; we are both working-he is editing dental boards study cards and I am editing a health blog. We actually both bring in money each month! Not very much. But it feels really good to be taking baby steps toward self sufficiency.<br />-Tate is all over the place. He is crawling and climbing everywhere. I think it is a self preservation skill. He is Eli's little brother after all. He is sleeping better, mostly through the night until 5 or so. And he is as sweet and smiley as can be. He has one tooth, is still ginormous and is skeptical of Eli each time he approaches...you would be too if you were regularly sat upon, covered and wrapped up in a blanket or knocked off a chair onto a hard tile floor. Most of my day is spent isolating and occupying the two of them in separate sections of the house so that Tate doesn't sustain any permanent damage. <br />-Eli is loving school. We have embarked on a new star/reward system which combined with the structure he is receiving in school has done wonders to help him, uh, behave. Thank heaven for the dollar spot at Target...4 gold stars=a new Target toy. He loves Tate and never intends to be mean; he looks eternally forward to the time when I get after Tate for climbing into the dishwasher or the fireplace.<br />-Last weekend we went to St. George to get away for a few days. Adam's parents came down and played with the boys and it was so so nice. We actually went out to a movie and running by ourselves. And we played in Snow Canyon and what not. I remarked while we were there how grateful I was that while God was creating that beautiful place with all of it's jagged up and down rocks, that he slipped in a few flat parts that are perfect for kids to crawl and climb on. I love that place.<br /><br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi7oES9GhYj6Ya4sLDJO6iZ4cXVk831Lc4rOr53_X1dGo4qAqGdf0VHvqYm1fTXbkWxYOTGbBpL-OtWwBkEUK6xOUFNY59AQMrAKUvVsxEBpRJY0ykGphKAgSFsa-HnM4i0qj7qnhbmLKtc/s1600/PB134898.JPG"><img style="float:right; margin:0 0 10px 10px;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 200px; height: 150px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi7oES9GhYj6Ya4sLDJO6iZ4cXVk831Lc4rOr53_X1dGo4qAqGdf0VHvqYm1fTXbkWxYOTGbBpL-OtWwBkEUK6xOUFNY59AQMrAKUvVsxEBpRJY0ykGphKAgSFsa-HnM4i0qj7qnhbmLKtc/s200/PB134898.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5542511503661151938" /></a><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhH0L42WQ3ymwdjD_e2aGKTZIRK1XMlBtcWwvpEnnro40PbdiGSipvMh9pPly40CXJmCN887-zJlZhc4qHssAfYewQdtcUHxqs4oazNdqJHcYmpLT-XUueWLXuF7rFVlfz3J3JFOPMxveLN/s1600/PB134894.JPG"><img style="float:right; margin:0 0 10px 10px;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 200px; height: 150px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhH0L42WQ3ymwdjD_e2aGKTZIRK1XMlBtcWwvpEnnro40PbdiGSipvMh9pPly40CXJmCN887-zJlZhc4qHssAfYewQdtcUHxqs4oazNdqJHcYmpLT-XUueWLXuF7rFVlfz3J3JFOPMxveLN/s200/PB134894.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5542511492553427186" /></a><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiWeZB8fjSgypaqIpMFpJUGmraanDjdEOkansF3lhtShHReWnIgGvHBRSHXFGf4qeMnQGUKSuhG7a5X5TjTwOFFK7Fr2ZDcxinxFaK7zoFeMTDRNci3dSC8w99l9MSshlEEQ7DkB1NJdNct/s1600/PB134904.JPG"><img style="float:right; margin:0 0 10px 10px;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 200px; height: 150px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiWeZB8fjSgypaqIpMFpJUGmraanDjdEOkansF3lhtShHReWnIgGvHBRSHXFGf4qeMnQGUKSuhG7a5X5TjTwOFFK7Fr2ZDcxinxFaK7zoFeMTDRNci3dSC8w99l9MSshlEEQ7DkB1NJdNct/s200/PB134904.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5542515003359111010" /></a><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgd3L8Y-pL6HPb3K4rJlE3cfHUTEAuZkGXnMSZAaGdteRcDdPnTMFks5UyNWfF634umzy14Bdn7ong0-dXdozVKVKOwXmhGtqSUqXaDUHykezI6kN4GXinh38Xk-1Xzyu9U-jkPEWt-WOHh/s1600/PB134898.JPG"><img style="float:right; margin:0 0 10px 10px;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 200px; height: 150px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgd3L8Y-pL6HPb3K4rJlE3cfHUTEAuZkGXnMSZAaGdteRcDdPnTMFks5UyNWfF634umzy14Bdn7ong0-dXdozVKVKOwXmhGtqSUqXaDUHykezI6kN4GXinh38Xk-1Xzyu9U-jkPEWt-WOHh/s200/PB134898.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5542514983913743666" /></a><br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEglMHfQk696qngotfz88B_eI_wN5EI7e6enhnvTxhw04lkR2hkhtKrtGTt76s9ZeXD_VJZcjnDrFCxnC7DB8EnKuBIkDuBzzIbjyXFw3GusQ8dntBwhxKLZYhRA5ixHhR-t31rETnAFVC7k/s1600/PB134922.JPG"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 200px; height: 150px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEglMHfQk696qngotfz88B_eI_wN5EI7e6enhnvTxhw04lkR2hkhtKrtGTt76s9ZeXD_VJZcjnDrFCxnC7DB8EnKuBIkDuBzzIbjyXFw3GusQ8dntBwhxKLZYhRA5ixHhR-t31rETnAFVC7k/s200/PB134922.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5542517455365735794" /></a><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhOm2AjcO4eW2tlIip6eo91ltrEgKfWci97PhzBSZgUkCzib3skBe_FOzZnDSO4Lmcm0-Xy4vh_p2KnVH9lkT8UmnVFlX9lrCSwBzxQXzt7VjNSfMnE4RUSzpwvT0FtPO-YKVUjs_vRprig/s1600/PB134908.JPG"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 200px; height: 150px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhOm2AjcO4eW2tlIip6eo91ltrEgKfWci97PhzBSZgUkCzib3skBe_FOzZnDSO4Lmcm0-Xy4vh_p2KnVH9lkT8UmnVFlX9lrCSwBzxQXzt7VjNSfMnE4RUSzpwvT0FtPO-YKVUjs_vRprig/s200/PB134908.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5542517444995583842" /></a><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjYvRfqqDT0oqHv7wKhJjPMsIsScDftI-GtXfWiJp0BLxPbueCp66-_btEUFVLp0G9WMDtT0Xi9XZ4evecm63Shkb9L6JV7_Xaz6RivPZCCrwzsM-AlT3jz_SD-sl7sHObfZ-fZC1PCcuJs/s1600/PB134901.JPG"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 200px; height: 150px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjYvRfqqDT0oqHv7wKhJjPMsIsScDftI-GtXfWiJp0BLxPbueCp66-_btEUFVLp0G9WMDtT0Xi9XZ4evecm63Shkb9L6JV7_Xaz6RivPZCCrwzsM-AlT3jz_SD-sl7sHObfZ-fZC1PCcuJs/s200/PB134901.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5542517438448705410" /></a><br /><br />What else...Homeowner's association stuff, kids and work mostly. Adam takes boards in December and March. Graduates in May!! I scoured my house today, and I am now sitting in front of my fireplace (since it is 65 degrees outside and I am now a California cold weenie) in my comfies while I sip on a DDP, listen to Christmas music and enjoy the otherwise quiet hour or so that both of my kids are asleep; at the moment, the world is right.Ashleyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17321572932421628197noreply@blogger.com7