tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-32785311838533332902024-03-13T11:51:12.702-10:00Upcountry ViewsWelcome to my thoughts, adventures, complaints and family. It isn't always perfect in paradise, but living upcountry, you can always relax and enjoy the view.Meghttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14695400983881889370noreply@blogger.comBlogger225125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3278531183853333290.post-78570319027091199892013-05-24T05:30:00.001-10:002013-05-24T05:30:41.556-10:00First Marathon Recap OgdenTell me about your bowel movements.<br />
<br />
Sometimes doctors ask that. It is awkward, but they need to know. <br />
Chefs don't ask this. Chefs don't ask this in front of the entire restaurant as they are chopping cilantro and yelling across the bar. <br />
<br />
One chef did. He is awesome.<br />
<br />
He also asked me about my cycles, my intended finish time (I bold faced lied and told him I was hoping for a 3:45 even though I knew I would be lucky to go under 4 hours). He listened intently to my answers and then made me the most delicious custom meal I have ever had. After eating the most delicious salmon and risotto I have ever had I told Chris "I don't even care what happens tomorrow because I just ate the best food of my life." I also don't care that I used 'delicious' about 85 times in the same paragraph. Because it was. It was delicious.<br />
Remember how I love food?<br />
Seriously. This guy is amazing. You have to go to Thyme and Seasons in Bountiful. Tell the chef what you want your meal to do for your body (seriously, he asks this) and be prepared to be nourished (and engage in some awkward personal information or offer a stool sample).<br />
<br />
Enough about food (there is never enough about food) let's get to the race.<br />
<br />
3:15 would have been an early wake-up call but I couldn't sleep so 2:55 seemed just fine. I got out of bed, got in the shower (I always take a hot shower before a long run, sometimes even a bath, to loosen up the hinges).<br />
Then, I ate half a sweet potato and some smoothie I had made the night before. I covered my entire body (not the bottom of my feet. . .sense the foreshadowing. . .) with Body Glide and suited up for my race.<br />
Shelly, my amazing friend, running buddy, coach and trainer picked me up at 4 am. Lily woke up just before that so I got to say goodbye to her. Silly girl was going to be TIRED (more forshadowing. . .). We drove up to Ogden, Shelly had to drop $20 in the parking pay thingy because it was the smallest (and only) bill any of us had. You're welcome, Ogden City! And we were on a bus, in the dark, in the rain, rolling up the canyon just to run back down it. <br />
It was cold. It was wet. I was so glad Shelly told me to bring plastic bags for my shoes and one to wear. There was a lot of mud and we had to wait for almost 2 hours for the start of the race. I loved seeing what everyone was eating before the start. PB&J, sweet potato (hey sister!), coconut water, cliff bars, bananas, weird smoothies that a random guy who became our friend later sarcastically described as 'delightful' (chia seed is a miracle, don't even mock!). . .<br />
Finally it was time to line up. I ditched the plastic (lots, like most, kept running in plastic. . .that would have been a good idea, but it had stopped raining and didn't start up again until about .0000000034 seconds after my bags hit the trash can, at which point it was a downpour) and donned my make-shift arm-warmers (Lily's soccer socks with finger holes cut in them. . .check back later for a detailed tutorial). <br />
I was so cold. I was trying not to shiver and waste energy and I totally needed to pee. I was getting ticked off at all the guys who took 2 steps off the road to pee in the bushes. I joked about running over to them and dropping my drawers (thus mooning the 8000 marathoners behind me) to pee and prove a point for equality. Even if I did dare to that (I had, afterall, just detailed my monthly cycle and BM habits to a full restaurant less than 12 hours prior) it would have been impossible. My hands were frozen and there was no way I could have taken off my hydration belt and my pants AND gotten them back on by myself. <br />
<br />
Now to the running! <br />
The first 3 miles were just so cold. The first 3 miles of every run are hard for me. It takes me FOREVER to warm up. I asked Shelly what our pace was. I thought we were going out too fast. It was a 9 minute mile. Ha! It felt like a 7:30. Not bad, just a lot of effort.<br />
But then, what? What does that sign say? Mile FIVE? Nice! I was feeling good. Wet, but good. I drank some smoothie from the belt and lost Shelly. I never did see her again. I didn't know if she was ahead of me or behind. It was so hard to see with all the rain, all the plastic, and all the people.<br />
I really had to pee. I didn't want to stop so I decided to hold it. It turns out that 'hold it' may be a generous term for what I did for the next 12 miles, but I was soaked so it is hard to say really. No one can prove anything.<br />
<br />
Mile 6:<br />
Baby horse running with Mama! So cute! They are running with us! I am feeling good. Hey, I am almost a quarter of the way done. My feet are freezing. I cannot feel them. Maybe that is good?<br />
Mile 7:<br />
I ate an orang slice as I cruised through the aid station. Just bite and throw. I still need to pee. WHY OH WHY did I not stop? Stupid pride!<br />
Mile 8: I started calculating how many miles until I would see my cute husband and my dad and girls who were to be at the half way point. Then, I started to worry about how I might feel if they ended up not being able to come because of the rain. I would totally understand, but I would be bummed. I just hoped it wouldn't totally throw me. <br />
I talked to a few people and then I started to feel a blister forming on the ball of my foot. Darn rain. Nothing I could do. I tried wiggling my toes to shift the weight or something but the damage was done. I had a blister. I had a blister at mile 8. Nothing to be done, I would just have to deal with it and hope that it doesn't break. I decided that running on the blister would be better than altering my gait and damaging my joints.<br />
Mile 9 I ate some of my pumpkin-seed butter bar (so good!) and it gave me a great push! By mile 10 I felt great (except I had to pee) and I could feel myself accelerate up a couple of very small hills. I actually looked ahead and thought "these were not on the map!" but they didn't feel like anything. . .which is probably why. Then, I did something stupid. I took off my awesome arm warmers. They were soaked so I thought they were doing nothing but adding weight. I regretted it instantly. They were still keeping me warm. The rain on my bare arms was freezing. I did lose about 2 pounds, though, by ditching the soaked arm socks. Thus begins the frozen forearm section of the race.<br />
Mile 13, I slowed a little through the huge aid station (because everyone was walking and I had to dodge people). I saw my FAMILY! I threw my arms up! I was so happy to see them!!! Noli cried as I ran past. I guess that would be pretty confusing. Hey, let's wait here in the rain and cold for your mother to run right past us. See ya!<br />
I felt awesome and I knew that the hills were next. I like hills. Running uphill is easier on my knees and I ran a lot of uphill during my prep for this race. I went into this section totally mentally prepared and excited. <br />
The next 2 miles had a series of small hills. I past people on the hills, which felt great! I ran with an older guy who I had ran with at mile 5. He said that he was going to try to keep up with me on the hill. He didn't. But he caught me again at mile 17. <br />
I started feeling pretty tired at mile 15 and promised myself I would stop at the aid station at 17 and walk through it, stop to pee, and take some tylenol. The foot to blister ratio had sadly shifted in favor of the latter at this point. I was in quite a bit of pain, and was just praying it wouldn't pop before the end of the race. <br />
I jogged up to the Honey Bucket at Mile 17 ready for a quick pee and then back out to it. What I did not anticipate was the shivering. The second I stopped running I started shaking so bad I couldn't figure out how to get my belt off, how to stand without hitting the walls, how to do anything. It took me a full minute to strategize my pee stop. This next part is a little TMI. . .I really had to pee. I mean, more than I even thought. I was amazed at my bladder capacity. It was unreal. I felt so so so so so much better, so much lighter, so ready that I was kicking myself for not stopping sooner! I jumped out, adjusted the fuel belt and pulled out my tylenol. I had to stop completely to try to open it with my frozen fingers. The guy from the hill caught up and said something like "keep it strong!" but I knew I was golden now. I didn't have to pee!!!! <br />
I ran across the dam and heard someone yell "MEG! YOU ARE A ROCKSTAR!" and looked around wildly to see my friend, Jill, who was screaming her face off. She was here to watch her sister and we were pacing right by each other. That call out with my new, empty bladder and the hopes that the fire brewing on the bottom of my feet would be abated a bit by the pill sent a surge through me and I started flying (relative) down the canyon. I don't run with a watch so I never know what my pace is or my splits but I could tell I was going a lot faster than I had been. I thought 'I should probably slow down, I don't know if I can keep this up for the next 9 miles' but I didn't. I also thought 'I should be more careful on these steep downhill sections' so I was. I slowed when it got steeper. My knees do not like running downhill. <br />
I felt amazing all the way down the canyon. It warmed up a little at this point and that helped a lot. I looked up and was caught off guard by the huge waterfall at the mouth of the canyon. We jumped onto the parkway trail and I started passing people. People who had gone out too fast were slowing down but still felt great. <br />
At the end of mile 23 I started feeling a little tired. Then, I looked ahead and hello!!! Family!! Noli, Lily, Chris and Dad were waving and cheering like wet little puppies. Noli then cried, again and tried to reach out to me as I jogged past (really starting to feel it!) It was great to see them! The gal running beside me at this time (she had my same shoes on, and she gave me a flat tire at mile .009) said "that is enough to make me cry" as if the last 24 miles in a freezing downpour weren't enough to bring tears. <br />
The next two miles were. . .tough. As. Nails. Seriously. I have never hit 'the wall' until then. I was hurting. Everywhere. I was cold. My legs felt like they had weights and my quads were starting to speak to me in colorful tones. My feet hurt, my legs hurt, my arms hurt (??) my head hurt, my hair hurt. two miles seemed like an impossible feat. I tried to talk myself down by saying that two miles is shorter than i ever run at a time. You can slow down a little bit, just keep moving. I knew enough to know that walking would be a horrible, horrible decision at this point. I would start shaking again like at Mile 17 and I would probably just fall down. Plus, it would take longer. I kept thinking about how wonderful it was to feel pain for a reason. To feel pain that meant something, that would go away. I thought of all the people that had helped me get to this point and tried dedicating small efforts to them. My parents, Dr. Vonk, Shelly, Chris, my kids, my friends, etc. I thought about Ali (aliontherunblog.com), a girl I have never met but have formed a (perhaps unhealthy?) connection with through her blog about running and Crohn's disease. She has been very sick for a couple of months and I thought about how she would give anything to have a (now clearly popped) blister, sore quads and to be hobbling through the last 1.2 miles of a marathon. Those thoughts did help. It still was an indescribable mental battle, but they did help. I still had a lot of dark thoughts like "this is stupid. we are all stupid. This is the stupidest, most selfish, childish activity I have done in a long time. I am never, ever doing this again. Who does this???"<br />
As the runners turn onto Grant Street we could see the finish line, which is kind of rude, because it looked so so so far away. I tried looking down and just "running" and then looking up after a while. It did not appear any closer. I played that game for about 3 hours. <br />
Finally, I got close enough to see the clock: 4 hours 15 minutes. Not my sub-4 but who cares? It was so cold and so wet! Not bad, I thought, not bad! I was satisfied with my time and ready to find my family and move on. <br />
As I stepped across the finish line I looked over to my right and saw another clock. This one said 3:46. What is that? I wondered. Hmmm. . .that is weird. A volunteer rushed up to me and grabbed me around the shoulders. She walked with/carried/kept me upright as we past through the finish to get my medal, some chocolate milk, etc. I was sort of delirious. I didn't know what to do or where to go. I wanted to be warm. I was shaking uncontrollably. I was so cold. I heard Chris call out from behind the fence and while I knew how to get to him, I wandered around a bit longer trying to find a foil blanket and also because I was a little out of it. He called out to me again a few minutes later and I walked around and out to him. He took off his sweater and gave it to me and made me stand under a canopy. My dad had gone to get the van. The girls were crying. It was pretty miserable. It was not a happy, music-filled, let's-go-eat-free-stuff reunion. It was survival. I clearly was going into a hypothermic state, the girls were wet and cold, it was bad. <br />
Then, I heard the announcer say "we have 3 more minutes for these runners to get their sub-4! Let's give it a big cheer for 3 more minutes!!" Wait. . .what? Sub-4? I had come in at 4:16, right? Then I realized I had looked at the half-marathon timer. The half-marathon started 30 minutes before the full. My time was actually more like 3:45 (chip time)! What????? <br />
I learned a lot from this race. Not the least of which was if a chef gets personal and creates a meal for you under the assumption you are planning on a 3:45, you will run a 3:45 and it will be because of that magical, amazing salmon. Rain or no rain. Assuming your bowel habits are normal. Thanks, Chef Hai.<br />
<br />
I finished. More importantly I finished the way I wanted to. I didn't want to suffer through half the race but I also didn't want to leave anything in the tank. I wanted it all out on the course. I wanted to give it everything I had and stumble across the line. That is what I did and even when I thought my time was 31 minutes slower than it actually was, I was totally happy with it because I knew I could not have run even 1 second faster. There is not one part of the race I could have pushed harder.<br />
<br />
I do have one regret and that is the finish party. Everyone always told me the best part of a race (vs. just going by yourself to run a ridiculously and stupidly long way) is the after events. Talking with the other racers, getting a massage, feeling like a rockstar. . .etc. There was none of that. People were cold and grouchy and went straight home. I feel like missed out on the 'race' part. <br />
<br />
Ali says on her blog that she hates recaps that don't have splits and don't talk about the numbers. Sorry! I don't run with a watch but here are my chip timed splits for anyone who cares (which is no one, Ali doesn't read my blog).<br />
<br />
To 7 miles 1:01:05 Pace 8:43<br />
To Half 1:53:47 Pace 8:37<br />
To 18 mile 2:37:23 Pace 8:54<br />
To 23.1 3:18:09 Pace 7:59<br />
To finish 3:45:45 Pace 8:50<br />
<br />
<br />
Would I do this again? <br />
<br />
<br />
Probably.<br />
<br />
What would I do next time?<br />
<br />
<br />
I would carry less food. I waaaaay overpacked! Carrying extra weight for nothing? Not a good racing strategy. I just didn't want to rely on nasty Gu or Powerade. <br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />Meghttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14695400983881889370noreply@blogger.com7tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3278531183853333290.post-8162953335736942292013-05-15T13:52:00.000-10:002013-05-15T14:02:23.136-10:00Day six The Hardest ThingMy days are longer than most. That is okay. I am okay with that.<br />
<br />
What is the hardest thing I have ever done?<br />
<br />
Come to terms with the fact that I may never enjoy a pain-free day, a short jog, surf, hike or bike again.<br />
<br />
And I did. I came to terms with it. I accepted it. <br />
<br />
It may seem to you reading this now, knowing that I was able to come through and enjoy most of those things (pain-free day aside) that it wasn't that bad. It was. It might appear that because the 'worst of the worst' only lasted 18 months and then the second 'worst of the worst' only another 18 months after that it wasn't really that bad. Let me assure you that it was that bad. <br />
<br />
I put everything on the floor of my pergo-covered home. Diapers, clothes, wipes, snacks, etc. I would scoot around with Lily on my stomach. During her naps I would lay down flat. ALWAYS. I would never clean or craft or anything else. Often I would play with her while I lay on the couch. <br />
Lily slept in our bed. . .until she was 3. I couldn't get up to nurse her, and by the time she was weaned she was so used to it and I was so so so so so tired all the time, it wasn't worth the effort to retrain her.<br />
<br />
When Lily was 18 months old I was watching a friends kid. I was (of course) sitting on the floor with the kids as they played. The other child stepped across my outstretched legs and little baby Lily cried out in alarm: "DON'T TOUCH MAMA KNEE!" <br />
<br />
Sheets touching my knee would send me through the roof.<br />
<br />
I couldn't drive for several weeks. I could not move my foot from the gas to the brake. Even after I could drive it was excruciating.<br />
<br />
I took a stroller everywhere. I had someone in Paia once tell me off for putting my kid in a stroller while I shopped. I was a bad mom apparently. My mothering guilt was already so sky-high, I never took Lily out in the stroller again. I trained her to sit on my shoulder bag and cling to me like a baby koala. The pain was out of this world. Lucky she was light.<br />
<br />
I had 2 different doctors on 2 different islands tell me I was a 'medical mystery'. One gave me a Rx for extra-strength vicodin (I didn't know it came in extra strength either!) the other game me Rx for gabapentin. <br />
<br />
I did craniosacral, acupuncture, rolfing, dieting, creams, vitamins, stretches, praying, MRI's, X-rays, and lots and lots of research. <br />
<br />
I lived in Hawaii but I couldn't do anything. Even when I made myself, I could barely enjoy it. <br />
I was depressed. I wish I would have taken something for that. I think even the docs on Maui could have given me something to help with the depression.<br />
<br />
I went through all the classic stages of grief, some took a long time, some not as long and I finally accepted the pain as part of my life. I knew I would never run, climb, surf, play like I used to but it was okay. I learned to sew and do a few other little crafts and I tried to find some other talents or interests to pursue. <br />
<br />
I am still not where I was before I had Lily. I don't expect I ever will be. I still have pain as a constant companion but he usually remembers to use his inside voice these days. I have learned how to keep him quieter and I have learned to live my life with him as a cameo rather than a director. I don't think that because I am running a marathon in 3 days it makes my past experience any less real. I honestly believed, no I KNEW, I would never feel this good, and coming to that acceptance is the hardest thing I ever did. <br />
<br />
<br />
A little note on running. . .even though no one cares. . .<br />
<br />
I have been reading some running blogs lately and they often refer to runs as 'good' or 'bad' depending on a lot of factors like time, how they felt in general, speed, etc. Sometimes I want to laugh, sometimes I want to roll my eyes and sometimes I want to shake them depending on a lot of factors on my part. Mostly, though, I just count myself lucky because while I have had blood blisters, joint pain, sore muscles, seriously slow times and even thrown up along the way, I don't think I have ever had a bad run. <br />
<br />
<br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: x-small;">***Please note that I use the word 'run' is a very generous adjective for what I do when I lace up my Saucony's. </span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: x-small;"><br /></span>
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: x-small;"><br /></span>
I should also note that it is only because of the sincere caring and brilliant mind of Dr. Vonk coupled with fairly strong weekly injection (yeah for me!) and a daily pill along with a strict gluten-free diet (and a string of other small habits, I will list if anyone cares) that I am able to perform my life at the level that I do now. My disease never went away, and it never will and because of that I am grateful that I had to accept it at it's worst. I know it could go there again. In fact, I am told it is likely that it will at some point. But that is okay. I have already accepted that full bore pain. I have already accepted not doing all the physical things I love. Any day that I CAN do those things is just a bonus. <span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: x-small;"> I have a strange feeling this super good attitude might go out the window and I will have to repeat the whole 'acceptance' process again if things ever get really bad again. I guess we will have to see.</span>Meghttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14695400983881889370noreply@blogger.com5tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3278531183853333290.post-46127213601599059352013-05-07T09:16:00.002-10:002013-05-07T09:16:30.127-10:00Five ThingsDay Five is "list five things that make you happiest right now".<br />
<br />
1. Good Food. I love food. Good food. If I had more money I would classify myself as a 'foodie'. I think about food all of the time. During breakfast I think about what I am going to eat for lunch. I love different food, new food, fine food, food in a box and with a fox and all of that. My friend's birthday was yesterday. We met at the park for lunch. She bought lunch for everyone. So did I. We easily had $60-$70 worth of food at the park for 3 adult women (we brought snacks for the kids but the taragon shrimp, sweet potato and grapefruit salad was all ours! ) and we ate it all. Seriously. It started raining and gusty gales blew through freezing us and threatening our styrofoam encased treasures, but we stayed. We stayed until the food was gone. It wasn't even a question.<br />
<br />
It was my favorite birthday of all time. And it wasn't even mine.<br />
<br />
<br />
2. Kids. My typical day consists of waking up early, being tired, not wanting to clean up for preschool, battling through, then during preschool finding this surge of energy and elation and calm all at the same time. Those kids save me. Yes, I spend a lot of nights watching reruns of Scrubs while cutting cardboard in my bed. Yes, I always have paint under my fingernails. Yes, the ratio of carpet to glitter has shifted to the latter. But, I love it. I love those kids. I love babies. I love my kids. My babies. They make me laugh everyday and cry a lot of them too. Now that the weather is warm I love that the neighborhood kids congregate in my front yard while the mom's chat. I love that they all call me Miss Meg. I love that people call me to watch their kids. I am grateful that they trust me. Kids make me happy. <br />
There is a little kindergarten boy with bright red hair who is not even in Lily's class who says 'hi' to me every morning "Hi Lily's mom!" he shouts. If I don't answer right away he says "It's me, PRESTON!" I have no idea who this kid is or how he knows me or my daughter but I love seeing him every morning. <br />
<br />
3. Running.<br />
I realize that living in Utah it is a little cliche to love running. Everyone is doing it. Ragnar blah blah and all that. But for me, it is a miracle. I remember only 5 years ago not being able to walk down to my mailbox. I remember laying around all day in intense pain. I remember taking a stroller into church to use like a walker. I laid in bed writing in pain, freezing because even the pressure of a sheet on my skin sent me through the roof. I know I am not the only one with chronic pain. I know that there are many, many people with far worse situations than mine. But I also know that fact doesn't lessen my own experience. To have come from cortisone and knee draining and vicodin to two weeks away from completing a marathon? That is huge for me. It is a miracle. I owe my current life and well-being to many but mostly to Dr. Vonk. He didn't think I was crazy, he didn't write me off with a scrip for narcotics. He took the time (hours on the phone and in the office) and he figured it out. I know I am not healed. I still have pain. I may have a flare again that is just as bad as before. I know this. But the question was 'what makes you happy right now' and the answer to that is 'I can run'. I am not fast or pretty but I can do it and it feels good and that makes me so so happy (even at 4 am, which is often the only time I can go!)<br />
<br />
I tried not to make my marathon too big of a deal. I haven't even told too many people 'in my real life' that i am doing it. But if I was to be honest. It is a big deal. Not in the grand scheme. Tons of people have run marathons and longer distances and have done it much better than I ever could. But to me, in my life, it is huge. I had written off exercise completely. Now I will run a freaking marathon and I am not ashamed to say I will be an emotional wreck at the end. Probably because I had peed on myself and thrown up and my thighs had ignited a small fire between them, but also because of what the whole thing means. <br />
<br />
4. TV time. I realize this makes me sound like a slob. I am just being honest. I look forward everyday to that time when I climb into bed to cuddle, cut construction paper houses, or even close my eyes and put on one of my favorite TV shows. I live a full life. I am busy. I wake up at 4 am more often than not and go steady all day long. At the end of the day (which is earlier for me than most. I am NOT a night owl) I don't feel guilty about vegging a little to the sounds of a funny or interesting show. <br />
<br />
5. I know I already mentioned food but I really love it so much that I am using number five as a subcategory. <br />
What makes me happy right now? New cafes opening in my town. We have had several open up in the past few months with the refab of main street. None have been ones I would frequent (gluten heavy) but it still makes me happy to have food available to the masses. Seriously, I am obsessed. But then, last week, I noticed a little cafe tucked between a quilting shop and a gift shop. I crept in with Noli to do a recon. Gluten-free tamales? check. Flourless chocolate cake? Yes. Live music venue for local musicians? WHAT! FINALLY! Ever since moving here Chris and I have lamented that there is no live music/cafe in town. I gushed and gushed at the owner (young peruvian guy who probably thought I was hitting on him) and then yesterday (birthday picnic) I called and ordered almost everything off of the menu. When I went to pick it up the owner says "Oh! I remember you!" but he was smiling and I had a huge order so I think it was in a good way.<br />
<br />
Adding a sixth. . .<br />
<br />
Noli getting herself dressed right now. She just came out of her room (I should write these at night) wearing (i am not exaggerating): shorts with jammy pants ON TOP, two t-shirts topped with a sundress on backwards. Nice. That makes me happy. <br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;">This is a picture of me training for my marathon</span> <span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: x-small;">(in my mind's eye. . .with long hair. . .when I am black).</span><br />
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Meghttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14695400983881889370noreply@blogger.com5tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3278531183853333290.post-46591168690608345982013-05-02T18:36:00.002-10:002013-05-02T18:36:35.636-10:00Day 4 So appropriate for my mood, today.It turns out Day Four is<br />
<br />
List Five Things You Would Tell Your 16 Year Old Self<br />
<br />
Ha ha. . .since i am feeling about 14 today. . .this is perfect.<br />
<br />
1. It is okay to like your own thing. This goes for music, art, books, boys, friends and movies. I was a follower, which is not bad, but it didn't really let me be me. It took me several years into college before I really started forming original opinions about things.<br />
<br />
2. Take every opportunity to try something new. <br />
<br />
3. Keep trying even if it is hard. I tend to not keep working at something if I don't see at least a glimmer of beginner's luck. Even now.<br />
<br />
4. Be more involved with your siblings. You will regret not being a better sister.<br />
<br />
5. Help your mom more. Be nice to her. You are not smarter than she is. Seriously.<br />
<br />
<br />Meghttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14695400983881889370noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3278531183853333290.post-91914510817722759732013-05-02T18:27:00.001-10:002013-05-02T18:27:51.062-10:00Going off-scriptIt was a tough day at the races. <br />
<br />
You need thick skin to work with teens. <br />
<br />
Erin, and any other high school teacher who may stumble upon this, my hat goes off to you (again, and for so many reasons).<br />
<br />
How is it that someone so young can fill me with self-doubt even though I know I am giving all I can and putting forth all I have?<br />
<br />
Yeeesh, I feel like I am back in seventh grade. It is just as bad this time around. Meghttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14695400983881889370noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3278531183853333290.post-16164118336148488652013-04-29T16:50:00.003-10:002013-04-29T16:50:25.420-10:00Day 3 The Most Physical Pain of Your LifeI realize that my "days" are a bit longer than most. But, in my world. . .at least on my blog. . .my "days" are as I set them to be. And that often varies.<br />
<br />
The most physical pain I have ever been in. This was easy. 12 hours of pitocin induced labor with NO pain killers. The nurse then telling me "I can call you a 1.5 if that makes you feel better". It didn't.<br />
<br />
One week overdue with my first child and unable to progress through labor left me feeling a little inadequate as a birthing mother. I had thought I would rock it in the birthing department. I thought I could handle the pain. It didn't bother me that Maui did not offer epidurals. I liked it. I thought it would be awesome. Truthfully, though, it came to a point where I was ready to accept the morphine injection regardless of any side effects to me or my child. I was delirious with pain. Even as I type this my back is clenching. There was no breathing like TV, no mantras, not even any screaming. I could not even dedicate energy to scream, I was in too much pain. The immediate pain relief that came with the spinal block necessary for my emergency C-section was so shocking I began shaking uncontrollably. The nurse had to strap my arms down during the surgery (which is nothing like TV, either. Bright lights, green tile, chatting about lunch, John Mayer playing. . .) I was so 'high' from the adrenaline, the experience, the meds, all of it, I did not sleep for the next 24 hours. The nurses kept telling me to sleep but I was WIDE awake.Meghttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14695400983881889370noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3278531183853333290.post-49887752287886025792013-04-24T13:46:00.001-10:002013-04-24T13:46:04.912-10:00FearsDay 2 (ish)<br />
<br />
Three Fears<br />
<br />
1. Ruining my kids. Either by my death or by my shortcomings, the fear is the same: my kids suffer because of me. Every time I roll my eyes, use passive-aggressive parenting or sigh in that cruel way I do when I am hungry. . .I realize this fear.<br />
I am ashamed to admit, I ignored my daughter's plea for help until it got frantic while i typed the previous two sentences. See? My fear is legitimate. <br />
<br />
2. Crocs. I know I didn't have to include an animal fear, but this is real. Of course sharks are scary in that "I am paddling out and I saw a fin in the wave so I am going to make a quick 180 out of here even though it is probably a harmless one" kind of way, but crocs are scary all the time. Even in Utah. I am not sure why, but I think it has something to do with my perception of their intelligence. Sharks, cougars and other scary predators seem pretty smart. I mean, sure they will eat you if they are desperate or if you are bleeding, but most of the time I think they are pretty much just hanging out waiting for something more their style. I feel like crocodiles will just barrel roll you because they don't know you from a 150 lb pile of bratwurst. They stupid. That why they scaaaaaarrrrry.<br />
<br />
3. Offending people. After inadvertently offending several roommates in college (I am sure it happened all the time before I was just unaware of it) I realized that I say or do things that are taken the wrong way. I can be callous without knowing it. I am a narcissist and I don't realize that the way I say things are not always kind. I know this now and am so over-conscious of it now that I am constantly over-analyzing every conversation I ever have and pinpointing every time I probably offended someone with my filter-less lip. I lose sleep. It is horrible. You would think that my over-analysis would cure me of the core problem. You would think.<br />
<br />Meghttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14695400983881889370noreply@blogger.com5tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3278531183853333290.post-7136844846788644052013-04-22T09:05:00.000-10:002013-04-22T09:05:00.947-10:00For ErinI got a text from a dear friend this weekend that said "you haven't blogged for over a year, you know". I do know. I just am busy. And sort of boring. It is hard to know what to write when you are busy, boring and not certain anyone cares about your blog.<br />
<br />
But Erin does care.<br />
<br />
So this is for Erin.<br />
<br />
I have some very talented cousins who keep amazingly interesting and well-written blogs who have been doing a 30 day writing challenge. Because of my aforementioned plights of being both boring and busy I have neither the time nor talent to come up with anything original to write. At least my answers will be different (until I get really lazy and start copy and pasting their New Yorker worthy answers into my own blog. . .).<br />
<br />
Day 1 (we will see how long this lasts. . .)<br />
<br />
Ten Random Facts About Yourself<br />
<br />
1. I hate chicken pot pie. It is really the only food I hate. I actually really love food. Good food. I really hate chicken pot pie.<br />
<br />
2. I love to try new things. Anything new. I rarely stick with anything long-term but I am always up for a new experience. <br />
<br />
3. I love being outside. Doing anything. <br />
<br />
4. I am not good at keeping my house tidy. I wish I were. I think this is tied heavily to #3.<br />
<br />
5. I get mean when I am hungry. Someone once described the emotion as Hangry. I loved that. <br />
<br />
6. I love having kids over. All kids. Almost any kids. I love to teach, play, get messy and snuggle them. Bring your kids over. . .my house will not be clean but I will have snacks.<br />
<br />
7. I do not like movies. There are very few movies that I think were worth watching (for me). I have some favorite TV shows that I will watch over and over but compared to most people, I don't like very many movies. In the past 4 years I have been to the theater 5 times (Fantastic Mr. Fox, Harry Potter 7 part 1, Sherlock Holmes, Sherlock 2, Hunger Games). I do love plays and have seen almost all of the local high school productions (and some professional) since I have been in Utah.<br />
Incidentally, my least favorite movies are super-hero or comic book adaptations and war movies. Imagine my reaction when my husband put on Captain America one night promising me that 'you will really like this one. . .' Hmmm. . .can't we just watch Scrubs again?<br />
<br />
8. I love words. I love books with beautifully written sentences and new words. I like knowing where words come from. I love playing scrabble (even though I am not good. At all.) and I love teaching my kids new words. There is power in an expertly turned sentence.<br />
<br />
9. I often come upon jobs or opportunities by accident. For instance:<br />
9a. I was recruited to the University pole vaulting team when the captain saw me diving at the pool. I was very enthusiastic and couldn't wait to try. It turns out I couldn't run fast enough to generate the speed needed to vault me over. . .anything. <br />
9b. While searching for jobs for my siblings online one day (because I am nosey like that) I came across an ad that read something like "Need writer for my art book. Not interested in your past publications or resume. I will send you art. You write snarky, Far Side-like caption. I will pick the best one for job. Cat lover a plus." Seriously. I submitted my entry along with 20-30 others and was hired to caption 85 paintings for a Japanese artist. I am now working on book 3 for him.<br />
9c. I started exercising with a woman. She signed up to run a marathon. "I will just run with you until you start going over 8 miles" I said. Then one day I ran 10 with her. "I will just run with you until I don't want to and will walk and you can leave me." I never walked. We just kept on running. Then, one day she was joking with some people that I was training for an imaginary marathon. One of the ladies said she had entered the Ogden race but didn't train over the winter. I bought her entry for a fraction of the price (those things are PRICEY! Who knew??? ) and now find myself running an accidental marathon in 3 weeks. I figure with my health I may never be at this level of fitness again and I most certainly will never be able to run a race this cheap again. <br />
<br />
10. I can whistle on a straw louder than anyone I have ever met. Drinking straw. Ear-splitting. I will show you sometime. <br />
<br />Meghttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14695400983881889370noreply@blogger.com7tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3278531183853333290.post-70124958079981132072012-02-11T19:24:00.000-10:002012-02-11T19:24:49.854-10:00Guess WhoGuess who has been gluten-free for a whole year?<br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh-FKqvAXqae16wTDtk_gnAaeHhfyWlVW7gTEGC8pDQQHXzni9kIXnFAY7aWf5q0PCJ0Omn1CuMA7IGfMtcXGeZCbP5XAnVhD6NvXnqd-33MfYqveq-klseJ7dkGcmgeREluWr9RgKOBWA/s1600/Lily_Model-103-Edit.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh-FKqvAXqae16wTDtk_gnAaeHhfyWlVW7gTEGC8pDQQHXzni9kIXnFAY7aWf5q0PCJ0Omn1CuMA7IGfMtcXGeZCbP5XAnVhD6NvXnqd-33MfYqveq-klseJ7dkGcmgeREluWr9RgKOBWA/s1600/Lily_Model-103-Edit.jpg" /></a></div>This girl.<br />
<br />
What a star. Yeah, she has a lot of sass. I think you have to have sass to pull of pink cowgirl boots. I just cannot believe how grown up she is. The past year has been a great change in our family's health. It is astounding how something so hard became something so easy in only a year. I guess that is what happens with habits. Do you think keeping my house tidy would be the same way? I may never know. But I do know how to make gluten-free crepes, gluten-free chili relleno, gluten-free sweet and sour chicken, gluten-free cookies and homemade corn tortillas. I've done more math and chemistry in the last year than I did in college (and I was a chem minor!) and I have watched my underweight, withering, sickly, migrane-suffering daughter flourish, grow and heal. What a year. What a girl. <br />
<br />
Here are a few quirky things I love about my sassy cowgirl:<br />
<br />
On Thursday, Lily got to go to a real high school science class to decorate heart (as in human heart) shaped cookies. The HS student paired with Lily was adorable and in an attempt to bond with Lily said "I really love princesses, who is your favorite princess?" To which Lily answered honestly:<br />
"I don't really like princesses. I like dinosaurs. And you left off that valve, there."<br />
<br />
Last week I made pancakes for breakfast. This might not sound like a grand gesture but when making gluten-free pancakes that 1. don't taste like sawdust and 2. have any nutritional value it is. There are weight conversions and multiple specialty flours involved. I knew Lily would love the treat. She did. . .and then she said: "Thank you for these pancakes, Mom, but could I have some vegetables. . .like celery?"<br />
(Don't worry, though, while she is a pretty good eater, she once told my mom that her favorite vegetable was french fries, so. . .yeah)<br />
<br />
She will play princesses with her friends. . .if she can be the cat. . .or the chameleon. . .or the royal bat-eared fox (only for African Savannah Princesses).<br />
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She sang her talk in Primary two weeks ago. I was not expecting that. But it was adorable.<br />
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She is currently writing her first book. A first in a series, she tells me. The title is "the big Bager" BYe LiLY (The Big Badger). The illustrations are adorable (I would post pictures but I can't even take a picture of my own daughter, let alone her book. I had to steal the above pic from my Mom's blog) and this is the first chapter (I will type it how it is written):<br />
<br />
The Big(backwards g) BADger (spelled right this time and with right-ways g)<br />
ONce a UpoN a TiMe Thaere was a BADger he live iN a forest wiht a raBBit and a Skunk<br />
One Day a Skquierl came to visit hes freid<br />
hes fred was the skunk.<br />
<br />
The friends go on to have problems of not enough food, hunters coming to the forest etc. It is so adorable I want to cry every time I read it. All the chapters have names like "The Problem" or "The Berthday". Look out J.K., Lily is on the horizon. <br />
<br />
Lily loves words. She likes to learn new words and phrases and use them (mostly correctly) later in casual conversation. This cracks me up all the time. <br />
Yesterday:<br />
L: Did you make me a GF cookie to take to the party?<br />
Me: No, I am sorry you will just have to take the store-bought (aka disgusting) ones. You can just lick off the frosting if you want. I am sorry. I didn't have time to make the GF Chinese New Year food AND the cookies. I just didn't have enough time. I wish I did, sweetie.<br />
L: Maybe if there was a way you could be nocturnal, then you could stay up at night and do it.<br />
Me: But then I would sleep during the day and I would miss you.<br />
L: Maybe if you could find a way to be nocturnal AND diurnal. That would work.<br />
Me (in my head): So. . .like a vampire????<br />
<br />
One of Lily's biggest irritations is a messy room. She loves to organize her stuff (but she is a hoarder so it is hard) and keep her room tidy. She often nags me about my neglect of the rest of the house and tries to motivate me to clean up more or suggests family organization activities. It is both amusing and embarrassing that my 5-year-old is neater than I.<br />
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Lily loves to dance. She dances around the house all day long. Recently we have been watching Singin' in the Rain and she tries to mimic all the dances. The funny part is. . .for all of her talents and gifts, dancing ain't one of them. She tries, oh, the girl tries but natural grace is not hers. She flails around, mostly kicking and jumping and falling on the floor and spinning. It is. . .a sight. Perhaps grace can be learned? We will see. Either way, I am not going to tell her she looks like a broken marionette. <br />
<br />
Lily loves her sister and is very protective of her. She is personally offended if someone even hints at Noli being annoying, troublesome, bad or anything negative. I love this because I feel like Noli may need an advocate later on as I am guilty of calling her all of those offending names. . .and more. And I am her mother. <br />
<br />
Lily asks deep questions like:<br />
How did God make the sun if there is no solids there? Where did he get the gases to make it?<br />
If people from Russia came to America to escape a war, why didn't they all come?<br />
How many layers of sky are there?<br />
<br />
And deep statements:<br />
<br />
Even when there are no people around you, you are never alone. The Earth is always with you.<br />
<br />
<br />
Lily loves stuffed animals. Ugly ones. Ones that look like they were made by a one-armed orphan in China. And if it were, she would love it even more. Lily is obsessed with China.<br />
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Lily has a pet spider. It lives in her room. It is named, Purple. She loves him.<br />
<br />
There are many more amazing and quirky things I love about Lily. I wish I had the brain space to remember them. . .or even to remember to write them down. But, as she will tell you, I am not the most organized person. So, I will just end with this: Man, I love that girl. I bet you would, too.Meghttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14695400983881889370noreply@blogger.com6tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3278531183853333290.post-90530443967875455162011-11-12T17:46:00.002-10:002011-11-14T15:35:52.777-10:00Kitty Party 2011It is all a sad dream now but at the time it was all so very magical. I thought about even the smallest details and executed every whim of my soon-to-be five-year-old.<br />
When I asked her what one did at a Kitty Party she said: Paint faces like a kitty, play a game with yarn, play a Kitty Kitty Doggy game, eat cupcakes out of dishes like a cat and crawl around in kitty houses.<br />
<br />
If you are wondering how to throw a kitty party, here it is:<br />
<br />
<br />
1. Use vintage invites from a summer yard sale and do your best to copy an illustration from 'Millions of Cats' on the envelope.<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg6VjaTmXTSCsO1DLy063-1Mc3C6YwKojMupR0FbsmP87RLWSBMOT3x2h3kTMSMdeUfaf0dIsodvYextQEcQ1LHZDMI5rc5xNqZQf4ORH_AsgASuF7KU_-67aiYtAdGI2WI78BL3NV3Gh0/s1600/DSCN2140.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg6VjaTmXTSCsO1DLy063-1Mc3C6YwKojMupR0FbsmP87RLWSBMOT3x2h3kTMSMdeUfaf0dIsodvYextQEcQ1LHZDMI5rc5xNqZQf4ORH_AsgASuF7KU_-67aiYtAdGI2WI78BL3NV3Gh0/s320/DSCN2140.JPG" width="320" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br />
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi0VCpkTQFq74Z6oDl25yvWsL_oWuQTLWVfCZP4mJv_FHzG0uMNZhCM7VG-eRPw91nNu3fq-xS5zh3GFdVI2j9U9myp-TtvPmjDdUYVuLQPSgCgMRY_5GjB1MQCcG_U3jl3Jp_95hHgULE/s1600/DSCN2145.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi0VCpkTQFq74Z6oDl25yvWsL_oWuQTLWVfCZP4mJv_FHzG0uMNZhCM7VG-eRPw91nNu3fq-xS5zh3GFdVI2j9U9myp-TtvPmjDdUYVuLQPSgCgMRY_5GjB1MQCcG_U3jl3Jp_95hHgULE/s320/DSCN2145.JPG" width="320" /></a></div>2. Prepare the goody bags. Gather random small trinkets and roll them up into a ball of yarn. Include kitty buttons and washable markers to use on wash and write kitties.<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh3fGVW4UK4aBNOS_5EqctgRNsyICD0sz6ShGQaJi3p8E6kYAJB8OcZQx_HSiNnRWtflImR87KrhfgJMV0iyiE09l8K4yITOIpllQip6iU-zgVEQAUsDDygEq5WSB75f8lARRTu4QCG2iw/s1600/DSCN2149.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh3fGVW4UK4aBNOS_5EqctgRNsyICD0sz6ShGQaJi3p8E6kYAJB8OcZQx_HSiNnRWtflImR87KrhfgJMV0iyiE09l8K4yITOIpllQip6iU-zgVEQAUsDDygEq5WSB75f8lARRTu4QCG2iw/s320/DSCN2149.JPG" width="320" /></a></div>Inside the yarn: a bell, a ball, a sparkly ring, tiny stickers, a mint, and a nickel.<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi12K_gI92RWXXXfPb1t6eORheQCT19hXgejtNzdG9vs61oQlJsIHeu9ULtnUfi74aKz5zL02WJutme2_Q_JBWqy6oMIS8H1A3XiYH4PVJc3iSvkK3FbL5exD042hLEtb0S3aWNrASiGD4/s1600/DSCN2153.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi12K_gI92RWXXXfPb1t6eORheQCT19hXgejtNzdG9vs61oQlJsIHeu9ULtnUfi74aKz5zL02WJutme2_Q_JBWqy6oMIS8H1A3XiYH4PVJc3iSvkK3FbL5exD042hLEtb0S3aWNrASiGD4/s320/DSCN2153.JPG" width="320" /></a></div>3. Sew 6 white stuffed kitties.<br />
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4. Have your super talented and ever generous neighbor hand paint a sign. Lily still has it in her room. Notice the eye color (like Lily's) and the kitty color(sniff).<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgiUTgh2praXDvDdu9dxYT0H5cxfJ-tGaOnWZdCHPVI34ZxYABVydDhsb9Uixxdw-1qu2IQ8UFrV_FOlR5bkLzXGrocpwxwzAeGwxkV8czBYMK1kmdawe4i3xbXGHCYKfXGcY4voe6GyPI/s1600/DSCN2191.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgiUTgh2praXDvDdu9dxYT0H5cxfJ-tGaOnWZdCHPVI34ZxYABVydDhsb9Uixxdw-1qu2IQ8UFrV_FOlR5bkLzXGrocpwxwzAeGwxkV8czBYMK1kmdawe4i3xbXGHCYKfXGcY4voe6GyPI/s320/DSCN2191.JPG" width="320" /></a></div>5. Hang pennant banner and draw kitty prints leading to the door.<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiXz21XY_N0fRj9JiIEyspbWPd6kS_Zpahl1_wlgXWF_iyMgY7ePsycGwkwJ9_rOKdyaoXAL96hoVKr7MDBgehJs31-lBs-LPqAgA6JceArTpT2vQstLnUxu_EchOAfntw1tyQGAow2rFo/s1600/DSCN2193.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiXz21XY_N0fRj9JiIEyspbWPd6kS_Zpahl1_wlgXWF_iyMgY7ePsycGwkwJ9_rOKdyaoXAL96hoVKr7MDBgehJs31-lBs-LPqAgA6JceArTpT2vQstLnUxu_EchOAfntw1tyQGAow2rFo/s320/DSCN2193.JPG" width="320" /></a></div>6. Have same talented/generous neighbor stay up waaaaay too late constructing a kitty city out of cardboard. Include residences, town hall, school and other important town amenities. Hand paint city.<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjl6TIaKEOI75DrRCfsp49AtUa9CqlX6Z-BqTT7R1Sx87Ykh4oSUVAxiECRaMdPsyFrYgMaIKgP5guOluHhSoru4_zzjehpsZGhbVp67RAIdHSN8uIfRWQKYxCNakukMShVuqP7jJSMpbA/s1600/DSCN2195.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjl6TIaKEOI75DrRCfsp49AtUa9CqlX6Z-BqTT7R1Sx87Ykh4oSUVAxiECRaMdPsyFrYgMaIKgP5guOluHhSoru4_zzjehpsZGhbVp67RAIdHSN8uIfRWQKYxCNakukMShVuqP7jJSMpbA/s320/DSCN2195.JPG" width="320" /></a></div>7. Display poster from preschool.<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh4_wUrerojG4vS7XMaNdSTEIETD__5XVqIk8a1E2slFf8DJbfIeM6z0uSfnsnfncAEXz1za0DU9_99YJ2Y7Yw6cQCLsPhGr3MdvCJJeZ4L-YeuS62tSRGRufv9We94Mb76PEwxWsjDz6g/s1600/DSCN2196.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh4_wUrerojG4vS7XMaNdSTEIETD__5XVqIk8a1E2slFf8DJbfIeM6z0uSfnsnfncAEXz1za0DU9_99YJ2Y7Yw6cQCLsPhGr3MdvCJJeZ4L-YeuS62tSRGRufv9We94Mb76PEwxWsjDz6g/s320/DSCN2196.JPG" width="320" /></a></div><br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhP_8iuVKH7JIQgcf7BjgoUqtEOqw7stFfYxIyh1l-nXvuMqM45zz-GTVe41sIsE5Y_Zsle7m1fR0CcH60tgCqT17CvZbU4CtuICZ2oEjXG8h9RTbv7BcVxkI12j1d6tAnQSDNeFB-uowg/s1600/DSCN2205.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhP_8iuVKH7JIQgcf7BjgoUqtEOqw7stFfYxIyh1l-nXvuMqM45zz-GTVe41sIsE5Y_Zsle7m1fR0CcH60tgCqT17CvZbU4CtuICZ2oEjXG8h9RTbv7BcVxkI12j1d6tAnQSDNeFB-uowg/s320/DSCN2205.JPG" width="320" /></a></div>8. Hire 14 year old to play the part of 'vet' and give darling and totally hammed-up check up to newly decorated kitties. (I have been told this is very much like Build-a-Bear but since I have never been to B-A-B or heard what they do there, I am still taking credit for this part) Eliza did so great. The kids loved holding their kitty's paw during the shots, picking out a sparkly bandaid (sticker) and giving medicine (m&m's) as well as getting their very own adoption papers signed by a vet.<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgLl-9Po0lKnN-sB2aqlSlr3KtIMkKlorm49XZnHk6ZsZHswz7y_5atrYnu5B2SHCwOwFdzBf4tVRn_sji0sYAD0XCegO9TLSzjucA-8ydYBlEJOQFDK16gzKhsL_rgkD87HeaD9iecf3Y/s1600/DSCN2206.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgLl-9Po0lKnN-sB2aqlSlr3KtIMkKlorm49XZnHk6ZsZHswz7y_5atrYnu5B2SHCwOwFdzBf4tVRn_sji0sYAD0XCegO9TLSzjucA-8ydYBlEJOQFDK16gzKhsL_rgkD87HeaD9iecf3Y/s320/DSCN2206.JPG" width="320" /></a></div><br />
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjH90FY9KmYtjrF9oXBMfyd3YzrSt7InBN87eYMJFoxYUaF7IwVjHYQnUDS39CATEMoBucpiIF8cv13bR7bcPYF-n0OcsfUQ-skA3TkiqJDPrtaxQY_o5PjSqruFV2wH0bq-HY3wEigAgg/s1600/DSCN2212.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="209" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjH90FY9KmYtjrF9oXBMfyd3YzrSt7InBN87eYMJFoxYUaF7IwVjHYQnUDS39CATEMoBucpiIF8cv13bR7bcPYF-n0OcsfUQ-skA3TkiqJDPrtaxQY_o5PjSqruFV2wH0bq-HY3wEigAgg/s320/DSCN2212.JPG" width="320" /></a></div><br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiMHkCrWs-sRO7wjiTJGvXnYQ2bO7CXCtd-iFSPpJgBg75klqZxHu1BssW7qj77j9Xvuzn5E-KxFGFvGtjwCwJqcvIjuoC2TdBFG5jNlg5WgERl-4ybBY0rbiGAB4-Bpzw_9HlPcskQP_o/s1600/DSCN2218.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiMHkCrWs-sRO7wjiTJGvXnYQ2bO7CXCtd-iFSPpJgBg75klqZxHu1BssW7qj77j9Xvuzn5E-KxFGFvGtjwCwJqcvIjuoC2TdBFG5jNlg5WgERl-4ybBY0rbiGAB4-Bpzw_9HlPcskQP_o/s320/DSCN2218.jpg" width="240" /></a></div>9. Have previously mentioned hired help string 6 pieces of yarn throughout house for kitties to follow to a treasure. (8b should be paint faces of party-goers to transform them into purrfect meowers)<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhLPV8o2HAn1EkTi88LGMMyRw16qud1jCD_SFDHb0iTfTV6zAFl29qVc-zocdTdS18scH_kgeZPnQ4oEq7jBw8kVVngxNB86rnfHG_ZkZuIKn2uaPRyIVnGpB2y2NzA5WsPXQmxVwUQSQI/s1600/DSCN2220.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhLPV8o2HAn1EkTi88LGMMyRw16qud1jCD_SFDHb0iTfTV6zAFl29qVc-zocdTdS18scH_kgeZPnQ4oEq7jBw8kVVngxNB86rnfHG_ZkZuIKn2uaPRyIVnGpB2y2NzA5WsPXQmxVwUQSQI/s320/DSCN2220.JPG" width="320" /></a></div>10. Take treasure (kitty dishes full of stickers) to table to decorate while Birthday Kitty opens gifts (no kid wants to sit and watch another one open gifts)<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh2ztlOxfRcSgd868PzfIUPJa_mSYHxcfCbg-Uu2q9ypM-tH6yNbT8vwxom2-6mD7uY68ikzH-8dV0RbKAyBYUnG8dm9Ywn4Ti0gWOY3dydJ7lXk7jkOLD5OvX3grXwHW5T86-9pFgs_U4/s1600/DSCN2238.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="308" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh2ztlOxfRcSgd868PzfIUPJa_mSYHxcfCbg-Uu2q9ypM-tH6yNbT8vwxom2-6mD7uY68ikzH-8dV0RbKAyBYUnG8dm9Ywn4Ti0gWOY3dydJ7lXk7jkOLD5OvX3grXwHW5T86-9pFgs_U4/s320/DSCN2238.JPG" width="320" /></a></div>10b. Let little kittens help.<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgG57m9DccZSXx914uWBNOXKBFOlvy1fJ3cqbzJ6qumdgb2q8UxCyvx0G3VQDSQNdf8c-JmHOb2FUUYy7J25A5Xj7XsJ9j6NFUhNo1MheHDaDkV2psLRXpe5J8nkgmzhh9ipsXHwhEsaGM/s1600/DSCN2242.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgG57m9DccZSXx914uWBNOXKBFOlvy1fJ3cqbzJ6qumdgb2q8UxCyvx0G3VQDSQNdf8c-JmHOb2FUUYy7J25A5Xj7XsJ9j6NFUhNo1MheHDaDkV2psLRXpe5J8nkgmzhh9ipsXHwhEsaGM/s320/DSCN2242.JPG" width="320" /></a></div>11. Have a kitty race. 11b. (not pictured): Play Kitty, Kitty, Dog (Duck Duck, you get it)<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgHQEvg295hiS5W9AZW5W2cjqkBzq9Gz5kbFUmM-dzyisROgqEg4t8MOIDdbXvPykGMrLnin0WB9J2wfAVV8JukpWIQ9YO0hJh6WbL_WxcodRWbHuOiFSOOVI82dJjueQ5JbMN7Ut39og0/s1600/DSCN2250.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgHQEvg295hiS5W9AZW5W2cjqkBzq9Gz5kbFUmM-dzyisROgqEg4t8MOIDdbXvPykGMrLnin0WB9J2wfAVV8JukpWIQ9YO0hJh6WbL_WxcodRWbHuOiFSOOVI82dJjueQ5JbMN7Ut39og0/s320/DSCN2250.JPG" width="320" /></a></div>12. Eat cupcakes out of newly decorated dishes.<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiUiSoOoMLfkL_utvCH9Q9eTA2iK3foUxTdvQ4dV6iiF_5XD3pKH7MpsgIQkemkIr1ry86bZkNyoxw9_8sSVwBuBTXeJZarlcXR46wlGr_mK3nMplTXYkMejii9rqQgT_aemSThq6va3x4/s1600/DSCN2257.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiUiSoOoMLfkL_utvCH9Q9eTA2iK3foUxTdvQ4dV6iiF_5XD3pKH7MpsgIQkemkIr1ry86bZkNyoxw9_8sSVwBuBTXeJZarlcXR46wlGr_mK3nMplTXYkMejii9rqQgT_aemSThq6va3x4/s320/DSCN2257.JPG" width="320" /></a></div>13. Move into the Kitty City.<br />
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhdwyWxxdqTeK1GL4Do35wM0Ni0H6-a1XUxVBQLcsDBfD5dM11KZKM3JtSe9FoTNIXRoMisR1__7yUr8qSKGgv6-H3qHQBj4DWa2NTwqIYktctW6UxnS2bHYuuxYQ3cav75arwYY-LieVs/s1600/DSCN2299.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhdwyWxxdqTeK1GL4Do35wM0Ni0H6-a1XUxVBQLcsDBfD5dM11KZKM3JtSe9FoTNIXRoMisR1__7yUr8qSKGgv6-H3qHQBj4DWa2NTwqIYktctW6UxnS2bHYuuxYQ3cav75arwYY-LieVs/s320/DSCN2299.JPG" width="320" /></a></div>14. Have Daddy bring down a special surprise real pet kitty. Name kitty Willow. Be speachless. Love your life. For three whole days. Man, we are still all so traumatized by the loss of our little kitty. It is embarrassing how sad I still feel about it. <br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiEWcT7wmlRAE0d7SOvLVqfm5zYrjyhBlmv_n9hfnvihkwvHk1GNvAn8AZAgD-eKvh6kCWYHC9Tomdn1-fWjTb7kTiqa8NFaVs3SAKJhFDZki7zC8oIxtLlkDukyKrTrKwaFuZFIyzbMR0/s1600/DSCN2313.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiEWcT7wmlRAE0d7SOvLVqfm5zYrjyhBlmv_n9hfnvihkwvHk1GNvAn8AZAgD-eKvh6kCWYHC9Tomdn1-fWjTb7kTiqa8NFaVs3SAKJhFDZki7zC8oIxtLlkDukyKrTrKwaFuZFIyzbMR0/s320/DSCN2313.JPG" width="320" /></a></div><br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhE1cqRGF9gxjI2flZRGPVfqDQJTtxKcEnshlGFq6x_53HXQlDoDWECaQIi-1rQ1ZJvb3KmBawG-cC_neKb1JnMPgMiVDVSxl7SW4MA7rQcAqrb70IQ-NDNRY4DpbQAgB7u3UGvza7qV2I/s1600/DSCN2317.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhE1cqRGF9gxjI2flZRGPVfqDQJTtxKcEnshlGFq6x_53HXQlDoDWECaQIi-1rQ1ZJvb3KmBawG-cC_neKb1JnMPgMiVDVSxl7SW4MA7rQcAqrb70IQ-NDNRY4DpbQAgB7u3UGvza7qV2I/s320/DSCN2317.JPG" width="320" /></a></div>15. Have the happiest little feline in the world. <br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhP4pVfX-EKeehOo-_E6izgG-39CGKw4EJEaV3t9Ix0faPgKtc_sea1Rb95Tj4jm66O6gDTzdF08k8VXPih5cc-4WoHmqQuhljOYWX4378vhhtA6_mDpB3d8gyH91t6QXN7YoMm-eC1SgQ/s1600/DSCN2318.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhP4pVfX-EKeehOo-_E6izgG-39CGKw4EJEaV3t9Ix0faPgKtc_sea1Rb95Tj4jm66O6gDTzdF08k8VXPih5cc-4WoHmqQuhljOYWX4378vhhtA6_mDpB3d8gyH91t6QXN7YoMm-eC1SgQ/s320/DSCN2318.JPG" width="320" /></a></div><br />
<br />
Not pictured: Reading a kitty story, setting up Willow's pad, weeks of playing in the Kitty City, 3 of the houses crushed and loved to death and covered in snow in my backyard.<br />
<br />
Was this party expensive? NO. Did it take a lot of prep time? YES.<br />
<br />
<br />
Everyone's question: Are we getting her a new cat?<br />
Not immediately. She hasn't asked for one. We are letting her figure out her grief and give it time to heal. She still talks about Willow everyday. She prays that Willow and Orangey will be doing well in heaven. . .everyday. She names herself Willow on Halloween (kitty costume) compares every cat she sees to her late friend. She doesn't cry, though. She is at peace with it but it is still very much on her mind. My good friend brought over a beautiful book "Cat Heaven" by Cynthia Rylant for Lily who has it memorized now. It was a godsend.Meghttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14695400983881889370noreply@blogger.com6tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3278531183853333290.post-27276413664327490922011-10-10T15:07:00.000-10:002011-10-10T15:07:03.475-10:00HolesToday I dug a hole. I don't use a shovel very often. Not to say that I don't work hard. I do. Or, at least, I feel like I do. But I don't often build, move earth or otherwise have reason to wield large tools regularly. That fact became clear the moment I lifted the handle. The old, sun-bleached wood mocked me like an old horse mocks a new rider. "You don't really know how to use me do you?" it seemed to say. I thought instantly of the last time I had used a shovel. Early in the spring I got a wild hare and decided to dig up a portion of my front lawn (the only part of my lawn not drenched in plant-killing shade) and the shovel mocked me then, too. All day long it laughed at my tender palms as I painstakingly ripped out sod to replace with herbs, tomatoes and few flowers. Somehow, though, today's hole seemed harder to dig. I could blame it on the ivy or the tree roots I chose to dig around, but I know that isn't it. The fact is, the hole I dug today although only about 3 feet deep and 1 foot wide had to hold a portion of my daughter's heart, one of immeasurable depth. <br />
Today Willow, Lily's new kitten, her birthday kitten, the kitten we got 3 days ago, died. She just laid down and didn't get up. I tried feeding her with a dropper. We tried cuddling her. She would not get up. And then, a couple hours later, she was gone. <br />
So, I dug a hole. We picked flowers. She drew pictures. We both cried. And I filled the hole. <br />
Lily is still empty. Two years is a long time to wait for only two days with a kitty. I have a feeling she will be walking to the back of the yard and sitting near that filled hole several times in the next week. Slowly the hole in her heart will heal. Kids are strong, and she is strong. I know that as a mother, this is only the beginning of watching my daughter's heart break. She will be hurt many times and every time I will dig a hole. Every time I will try to something to help her heal. Something tells me that the kind of digging mothers do don't build up calluses. I bet it hurts just as bad each time. The holes, I expect, get bigger with age.<br />
Poor Lily.Meghttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14695400983881889370noreply@blogger.com6tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3278531183853333290.post-18106762029220874922011-10-07T23:05:00.000-10:002011-10-07T23:05:21.321-10:00ClarificationOur new kitty did not run away.<br />
<br />
When thinking of getting Lily a kitten for her birthday I was on the fence. I knew that the main reason I wanted to was for a big 'Ta Da!' moment at the party. I thought it was likely I would regret the decision a week or so later. <br />
<br />
I was wrong.<br />
<br />
I regretted it 5 minutes later. <br />
<br />
The 'run away' lesson was mostly a joke between Chris and I so we could have an 'out' from the cat.<br />
<br />
But, we really aren't that mean. And I really don't regret the cat. . .too much. Of course I am typing this at 3:00 am because I have a kitty who wants to sleep on my throat. <br />
<br />
Lily is over the moon and that makes it worth it. Am I feeling the need to compensate all the attention Noli demands of me by getting my 5 year old a kitten? Yeah. But if you listened to her talk about our cat that died everyday for the past 2 years. . .you might break down too. It was pretty cute to watch Lily color her new kitty paper with little Willow sleeping on a pillow next to her.Meghttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14695400983881889370noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3278531183853333290.post-26483057192353023322011-10-07T15:17:00.001-10:002011-10-07T15:17:21.128-10:00Caring for a CatKitty Party 2011 was a huge success. I will post details about the party later. Maybe. For now, we are working on teaching Lily the rules of caring for her birthday present. . .an 8 week old kitten. The top five rules we have given her:<br />
<br />
5. Don't squeeze too hard.<br />
<br />
4. Empty the litter box only when Noli is asleep. Noli must never know of this pile of sand.<br />
<br />
3. No screaming.<br />
<br />
2. Kitties sleep a lot so they need not be carried, coddled, cushioned, caressed or dressed 24 hours a day.<br />
<br />
And the number one rule we introduced to Lily today:<br />
<br />
1. Kitties sometimes run away.Meghttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14695400983881889370noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3278531183853333290.post-47491492263418770072011-08-09T14:55:00.000-10:002011-08-09T14:55:45.932-10:00I Once Had a Cat That Was Orangeby Lily<br />
<br />
I once had a cat that was orange. It was a good cat and a bad cat. It was very very nice and I loved it. Orangey was good and very very nice. I loved it more than anything and it was very very very good. I love the cat. <br />
My cat is now writing on paper with his claws. He was a very good eater. He liked his treats and just a minute let me think. . .and if he did not find a treat I throwed he will just look at me and I will just throw him another one and he will eat it. Orangey sang to cats. Now that's a good cat. I miss my cat. He was not a good hunter. Pedro was his mom. She was a good hunter. She once caught a cricket. Orangey died on October when I turned 3. I would like to have a new cat. I think it will be the same cat as Pedro but a kitten. I think it will be so cute. I think one is so cute that I saw. I am very good. I will name my kitty Black-Orange and that is the end of my story. <br />
by Lilikoi Clara Nilsson<br />
The EndMeghttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14695400983881889370noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3278531183853333290.post-28803210689466580992011-06-18T16:19:00.001-10:002011-06-18T16:20:18.774-10:00Now<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhIMEniI9TTZkWnuwbv_aEt40_91R8qzO69b5ZHXs6XYL4JRWBi_EMkSjBXHaVAD3a1ivLbEpekiV22okP35REwIvsO3i8Poy-08NVU3QnKPsCdVFbJzPUb4mcWcNOO0rKbJED4AEisPbc/s1600/Fam-77-EditVintage.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="212" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhIMEniI9TTZkWnuwbv_aEt40_91R8qzO69b5ZHXs6XYL4JRWBi_EMkSjBXHaVAD3a1ivLbEpekiV22okP35REwIvsO3i8Poy-08NVU3QnKPsCdVFbJzPUb4mcWcNOO0rKbJED4AEisPbc/s320/Fam-77-EditVintage.jpg" width="320" /></a></div><br />
Oh what a difference a year makes. Now you sleep, nap, even! Now you walk and sometimes try to run. Now you snuggle your face on my shoulder. Now you look for your sister everywhere. Now you have a special squeal you use only when you see an animal. Now you think raisens are great and salad is less great. Now you can kiss. <br />
Now is good. Now you are one.<br />
<br />
But forever you mine. My sweet, Magnolia girl. <br />
<br />
<br />
Happy Birthday, Baby Girl.Meghttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14695400983881889370noreply@blogger.com7tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3278531183853333290.post-24710168975912088842011-06-03T17:52:00.000-10:002011-06-03T17:52:14.336-10:00Humor<b><span style="font-size: large;">Kids are funny.</span></b><br />
<br />
Lily: You know why we have to wait until we are eight years old to be baptized?<br />
Chris: Why?<br />
Lily: Because, we would be waaaay to short! I would totally be drownded in that thing! I learned that in primary.<br />
<br />
<b><span style="font-size: large;">Except when they try to be.</span></b><br />
<br />
Knock! Knock!<br />
Who's there?<br />
Why did the chicken cross the road?<br />
Uh. . .to get the other si. .<br />
Nope.<br />
I give up. <br />
Keep guessing. You have to guess more! (the excitement has induced uncontrollable jumping)<br />
Uh. . .to see his friend.<br />
Nope! (we are reaching Christmas-esque levels of anticipation)<br />
To go to school? <br />
NOPE! (I think she stopped breathing for a second. . .)<br />
I really give up, why did the chicken cross the road?<br />
To see if he could go over there by the other chickens and talk to them and then go to the store and then something else and then aren't you so glad I didn't say 'banana'?<br />
Of course.Meghttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14695400983881889370noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3278531183853333290.post-82603056977936189882011-05-16T09:18:00.000-10:002011-05-16T09:18:39.984-10:00The Quick Cricket Preschool Presents. . .I have big ideas. I like complicated plans. I make things hard. These are not entirely bad qualities. Unfortunately, I am also NOT a perfection and thus my grand schemes are often poorly executed. This time, though. . .this time. . .things (I hope) will be different. <br />
<br />
I have started a new blog for my preschool. And, yes, my idea was bigger than my ability to complete it but I have put a few things up. One thing I do plan to post about is our epic end of the year program including our theatrical production of the classic children's book The Giant Jam Sandwich. Tomorrow. 3:30 pm. Bountiful Library. Basement. Come one! Come all! <br />
<br />
I am only suffering from a mild case of anxiety about tomorrow. And, I have prepared enough that I think I might actually be able to get some sleep tonight.<br />
<br />
We'll see. I am blogging right now rather than getting ready, so, maybe not.<br />
<br />
Stay tuned over at thequickcricket.blogspot.com to see how it all turned out.Meghttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14695400983881889370noreply@blogger.com5tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3278531183853333290.post-18790484355201176292011-04-02T16:00:00.000-10:002011-04-02T16:00:49.757-10:00Brown EyesIt is a good thing you have those brown eyes, Noli. Those deep, brown, chesnut eyes are your life insurance. They keep you alive. Even after you have been up 8 times in a night, or screamed all day, or drawn blood from my neck from your razor sharp nails, those eyes remind me how much I love you. When you look through your sisters baby books (yes, plural) and thumb through the many, many baby pictures of her and look at me with those beautiful brown eyes and ask "Where are mine?" I will have to just put your little chubby hand on my heart and say "right here". It is not that I loved you any less or cared any less or forgot. It is that I was just too tired. I was keeping you alive. I was surviving. I couldn't take a lot of pictures because I could barely keep my teeth brushed let alone find the camera or download pictures. I couldn't fill in little cute things you did every single day because I could barely get the laundry clean and even then it mostly sat on my closet floor, not so much folded in the drawers. I couldn't record every milestone because I still had your sister to entertain and a preschool class to plan and church calling to fulfill. It isn't that I didn't want to. It is just that I couldn't. But I still love you. Oh how I love you. I need only to look into those (mostly watering from tears) big, brown eyes to remember how much I love you. <br />
Here are a few milestones to remember while I have a few minutes while you are in bed. I am sure I will get to see those brown eyes again in an hour or so, but until then, here are a few things I remember from the last few months.<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
You are now 9 and 1/2 months old.<br />
Over the past 9 months your AVERAGE wakes during the night were 5-6.<br />
You have slept through the night one time. It was last week. I woke up 4 times.<br />
You got your first tooth at 7 and 1/2 months. You are a pretty crabby baby. When you teeth, you are terrible. You are teething now. I still love you.<br />
You got your second tooth at 9 months.<br />
You crawled at 8 months.<br />
You stood up at 8 and 1/2 months.<br />
You can now walk around furniture and sit down from standing. <br />
You can say mama, dada, baba, buhbuh. Lily is done waiting for you to say her name and has decided that when you say baba that means sister and when you say buhbuh that means Lily. I think she is right.<br />
You had your first infection last week. You are still a little sick. I got it. I am still very sick. I still love you.<br />
You are in the 85th percentile for height and 65th for weight. You have slimmed down a bit since becomming mobile. Doctor said that is normal and good. <br />
You have a red birth mark at the back of your neck. It gets brighter when you get mad. It is bright a lot. I still love you.<br />
You are busy. You are destructive. You are smart. You are cute, chubby and kissable. I love your smile so much and your laugh even more. I wish I saw your smile more last week but I know you didn't feel well. I wish you never had to be sick. I wish I didn't need as much sleep as I do. I wish you needed more. I wish I was a better mother. I wish I had more time. I wish I was a better user of the time I have. I wish I knew what you were thinking. I wish you could know how much I love you. Even when I am tired. Even when I have to put you in your crib for a minute screaming. Even when I am crying, too. Even when I threaten to sell you to the first person with a crisp dollar bill (kidding). Even when I think I can't survive one more night, one more day, one more minute. You still have those brown eyes, and I still love you.Meghttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14695400983881889370noreply@blogger.com8tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3278531183853333290.post-73360932614077225722011-02-23T09:49:00.000-10:002011-02-23T09:49:41.693-10:00HistoryI love teaching history to preschoolers. Here are a couple of gems from my own budding historian.<br />
<br />
Me: Who remembers what special man we celebrated yesterday?<br />
<br />
<br />
Lily: Martin Burger King Carl's Junior<br />
<br />
<br />
Today:<br />
<br />
Me: Who remembers who the first president of the United States was?<br />
<br />
Lily: Dollarton Lincoln<br />
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<br />
<br />
I could not make this stuff up if I tried.Meghttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14695400983881889370noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3278531183853333290.post-28524257269602650472011-02-15T10:30:00.000-10:002011-02-15T10:30:21.995-10:00We don't need no stinkin' wheat!It is important that, while reading this post, you imagine me eating an entire box of Country Creme Organic Ginger Lemon cookies. That is what I am doing while writing it so it only makes sense. I bought a box of these cookies a couple of weeks ago. I was saving them for a special time or day when I would need them. After finding out that my daughter has Celiac disease and we must now rid our home of all gluten containing products, I feel like now is that special time. And working with the timeless idioms of "waste not, want not" and "if you eat enough of something in one sitting and make yourself ill, you may never want that thing again" I plan to rid my house of these particular gluten offenders one cream-filled center at a time. The vanilla ones I bought on accident, however, will be going to the chickens unless someone comes over to my house later this afternoon to claim them. <br />
Although a diagnosis of Celiac is on the lighter end of the chronic malady spectrum (leukemia, Down's, etc. being on the darker end), I imagine the initial blow is somewhat similar. My life will never be the same. Everything will change. And while in our case, those changes will ultimately mean a cure, recovery and a lifestyle we will eventually find normal, I still am in that first phase of shock and denial, so please, be patient. <br />
It is hard to hear that there is something wrong with your kid. Anything. We all want them (even think them) to be perfect. I still think Lily is perfect. Except her gut, which is apparently all kids of screwed up! Since September she has thrown up every three weeks and has complained of almost constant and sometimes excruciating stomach pain in between. After rounds of blood work she finally got fitted for a suit of Celiac, or an intolerance to gluten, the main protien in wheat (and several other grains). While this seems at first horrific, it is really a solution rather than a problem. The problem is Lily's constant discomfort, the solution? Lay off the bread. In a best case scenario, under strict dietary changes she may even be able to recover fully and eventually tolerate gluten to some extent later on. For now, we just hope to stop the all-nighter puke-fests and stomach pains. <br />
It is a little overwhelming when you start researching all that has gluten in it. Playdough, soy sauce, shampoo, vitamins, the list is staggering. I really feel like I am going back to school learning what is healthy and what is not. I feel so. . .novice. Novice, but determined to learn. It is also amazing if you compile a list of all the things that don't contain gluten. That list is more practical, at least for my sanity. Glass half full and all that. Still, even though I can intellectually say "it isn't that bad. I can DO this. I like to make new recipes. We love Asian food" and all the rest, sometimes I still want to cry because we can't go to Kneaders anymore. Really! I should be happy that all that is required to fix my daughter is a shift in diet and not lifelong medication or surgery, and I am. However, I do love bread. I really do. And I will mourn it's loss from our home. <br />
I hope that my life won't be defined by our being gluten-free. I don't want that do be what Lily or myself is all about. However, I know that for awhile, it will be. While we learn, while we adapt, it will have to occupy a big part of our brains, time and, unfortunately for those that know us, our conversations. It won't always be like that. I have faith that we will slip into a routine and living gluten-free will just be that. Nothing complicated just life. I am already grateful for friends and family that have been so supportive and helpful in the last week and a half. It just proves what I already knew: people are good and gluten is bad. Well, at least I knew the first part. <br />
<br />
Today we tried Cherrybrook Kitchen's Gluten Free Dreams Pancake/Waffle mix. I added an egg to the recipe and made heart shaped waffles for our snack at preschool. They were SO GOOD. I served them plain, no syrup or anything and the kids all said they were the best waffles they ever had (maybe the shape?). We will definatetly try that one again. Also for snack we had a fruit/rice milk smoothie and hard boiled eggs. Yum!Meghttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14695400983881889370noreply@blogger.com13tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3278531183853333290.post-110408363974867272011-01-08T17:09:00.000-10:002011-01-08T17:09:31.933-10:0018 seconds may be all you need. . .<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><iframe allowfullscreen='allowfullscreen' webkitallowfullscreen='webkitallowfullscreen' mozallowfullscreen='mozallowfullscreen' width='320' height='266' src='https://www.blogger.com/video.g?token=AD6v5dyTu-yWassypYTpFF6msPReMIA8S4_nW7_2BS8ZA2whoXZiY0oVIXRGNosTPcT00rNgjfEsqfCAF2BmffDV' class='b-hbp-video b-uploaded' frameborder='0'></iframe></div>. . .to get an idea of the silliness that occurs here on a regular basis. This went on for a while but my memory was full of Christmas morning video, which later got deleted while I was transferring it to the computer. <br />
I love my silly girls. Lily is sweeter than I could have hoped to her sister and Magnolia loves Lily more than milk itself.Meghttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14695400983881889370noreply@blogger.com9tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3278531183853333290.post-76016985950268424472011-01-02T17:26:00.000-10:002011-01-02T17:26:32.764-10:00Hi, I'm NoliOr Magnolia, or Maggie, Maggie Moo, Magstar, Noles, Maggie-Noles, Sista, Magpie, Bubba Chubs, Grabby McPaws, Babes, or any other ridiculous nick-name my parents and sister decide to give me that day. Apparently, being the youngest means you can be called whatever the heck comes to mind and it flies. And they wonder why I have been so fussy these 6 months. . .pick a name, people! Sorry. Had to get that out.<br />
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Well, there it is. I'm six months old. I nap now, so that is new since my mom posted. She is pretty excited about it, can't stop talking about it actually, but I don't know what the big whoop is, it is JUST A CRIB, people. Between you and me, I liked my swing better. Too bad I got too big and broke it. Who makes baby swings with weight limits anyway? Oh, and (funny story) if you think those weight limits are just for legal reasons. . .you're wrong. <br />
What else? Well, my parents have started giving me real food. . .sort of. I just want some food. Is that too much to ask? Dad usually is the one to feed me. Mom says it is a bother and is just easier to nurse. I will be a monkey's uncle if I am going to be nursing when I go to nursery, though, I'll tell you that much. Dad gives me carrots, or spinach or sweet potato that mom has whirled up in her fancy shmancy blender. It is okay. Whatever. I grabbed a fist full of guacamole today off of Dad's plate, now THAT's what I'm talking about! Mom wiped it off of me before I could get too much, but you know I got a good tongue-ful before! Woot! Oh, and if there is one thing I have learned in my six months on Earth it is this: guacamole tastes good but it does not feel good in your eye.<br />
Let's see, what did I do today? Well, we had early church, so that meant an earlier tantrum from big sis. That girl will not wear shoes, I don't know what the fuss is. I just let mom put them on and then kick them off on the way inside the chapel. She is usually too busy to notice and then, no shoes! Much easier. Church is now at nap time so, since I nap now, I did sleep during half of sacrament. Then, just for fun, I decided to see if I could make it through the rest of church without eating. I did it! Mom tried to feed me before she went to young women, but I was strong! Relentless, even. It. Was. Awesome. The real bummer was, that as soon as church ended, I was done with my experiment and Mom made me wait all the way until we got home to eat. We live 3 BLOCKS AWAY! It was torture. I made my family suffer with me. It only seemed fair.<br />
Later my mom undressed me for a bath with sister. I LOVE baths. They are the best. Wet? Naked? What's not to like? Then her phone rang. I was already naked, all she had to do was put me in the bath. The water was there. Sister was there. Why was I not there? Yak yak yak. . .what about my bath? You see, the whole incident could have been avoided if my mom would just put a few hours a day into learning to read my mind. Instead she insists on over-enunciating monosyllabic phrases right at my face as if I am a moron. I know you are my Maaaaaaa-Maaaaaa but I want a Baaaaaaaaaaath. Not too tough. But I digress. So Maaaaaaa-Maaaaa is chatting it up with her sister all the while holding me and I am STILL naked but NOT in the bath. ARGH! She left me no choice. I did what any baby under that kind of abuse would do. I peed on her. A lot. It was effective. I will have to remember that.<br />
After bath time I watched my sister for awhile. That girl is hil-AR-ious. Sometimes she stands in front of me, jumps and screams at my face. It is so funny. Seriously, you have got to see it. I don't know how she comes up with this stuff. Then, she started running in and out of the room while singing one of my Mama's favorite songs ever "Jingle Bell Rock". So funny. SO FUNNY! I laughed until I peed (in my diaper this time, I am sorry to report) but then Mama made her stop. Kill joy, that woman. I voiced my disgust first by telepathy, of course, and then, because I fear she is still not on board with the baby ESP I broke two vintage ornaments off of the tree.<br />
Dinner was the worst. Mama said she didn't want to give me any real food since I had already had 2 baths and it was getting late. What!?! Lame. Again, I tried to indicate to her my displeasure through peaceful mind waves but, no. Nothing. I pulled her full glass of cold water onto her crotch. Someone was getting wet and if it wasn't going to be me. . .<br />
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All in all, it was a good day. Mama wants me to sleep through the night tonight, but, seeing as it took me 5 months to even take a nap, I am just not seeing that as happening. Maybe if I can get a rueben or a Cafe Rio salad before bed we can talk. But, you come at me with that weak-sauce veggie puree and you better be getting me up to feed several times during the night. Just sayin'.<br />
Before I go, I want to leave you with a list of my talents. I have been reading these blogs about babies and they all have lists of talents. Ahem. Here are mine:<br />
Sitting up<br />
Splashing<br />
Panting like a dog<br />
Peeing in the tub<br />
Spitting<br />
Rolling over from tummy to back<br />
Jumping in my jump-a-roo<br />
Smiling at anyone who looks at my face<br />
Making noise<br />
Babbling<br />
Grabbing at food<br />
Grabbing at faces<br />
Simultaneously grunting and screaming (you know it!)<br />
Clapping <br />
Kissing Mama's face<br />
Making my family smile<br />
Getting the hiccups <br />
Starting to play copy-cat<br />
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Well, blogosphere, it has been fun. I am sure I will be back. . .probably in 3 months or so. Until then, all my love to my fellow babies and to all the mothers out there: JUST PUT YOUR KID IN THE BATH!<br />
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Love,<br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: "Courier New",Courier,monospace;">Magnolia</span></span>Meghttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14695400983881889370noreply@blogger.com9tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3278531183853333290.post-12652877385008693172010-09-03T15:15:00.000-10:002010-09-03T15:15:08.981-10:00Too Much TIme LivingNot enough blogging. . .<br />
We have had a great time this summer trying to figure out life with two kiddos. Number one is a great big sister and number two is a great snuggler. <br />
I have complete faith that at some point I will be able to have time to post more on this blog. Today is not that day. Tomorrow doesn't look good either. Nor does next week. But someday. . .<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjdmlwETxyRowP47INVZAaJitfPxVyVPKqm8OiZbh3N2AcuX26GwCpdvVq99-SXhLXC8myiggcH-Pdqzm7uLsBfISh9WC6Ho-hTNChyOWdjDo_Bd1igCe45r7cSUWdUpMrkaONmuIWLlcw/s1600/41182_10150238864665032_150781425031_14475343_2684051_n.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjdmlwETxyRowP47INVZAaJitfPxVyVPKqm8OiZbh3N2AcuX26GwCpdvVq99-SXhLXC8myiggcH-Pdqzm7uLsBfISh9WC6Ho-hTNChyOWdjDo_Bd1igCe45r7cSUWdUpMrkaONmuIWLlcw/s320/41182_10150238864665032_150781425031_14475343_2684051_n.jpg" width="214" /></a></div>Meghttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14695400983881889370noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3278531183853333290.post-7879582975018778882010-08-06T15:13:00.001-10:002010-08-06T15:14:32.238-10:006 Week Stats<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"></div>This is one of those posts that will be boring to everyone. Everyone except myself. I just want to jot these down before I forget.<br />
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjazWQ4VFuKfSDgXzk7v8W0P7tORkd8N-glBsyZQ8lfOH58h61pzjvGQryjLiJEV2QVwt3qYnzNMii9QjLsIKMcNx7CVTgd8abWnERbvna1qZtPYyRp0MoyxYloJw5gZ7nsc6u07LV71UI/s1600/40695_10150218293145032_150781425031_13879315_2299272_n.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjazWQ4VFuKfSDgXzk7v8W0P7tORkd8N-glBsyZQ8lfOH58h61pzjvGQryjLiJEV2QVwt3qYnzNMii9QjLsIKMcNx7CVTgd8abWnERbvna1qZtPYyRp0MoyxYloJw5gZ7nsc6u07LV71UI/s320/40695_10150218293145032_150781425031_13879315_2299272_n.jpg" /></a></div>Magnolia, sweet girl, you just love to be held. You get very offended if I put you down. . .even if you were just fast asleep. You are lucky that I love to hold you, and that you are so cute. I am lucky that your Aunt Ruth let me use her wrap or my arms would fall off. You are not a normal newborn, if there is such a thing. The phrase "sleep like a baby" does not apply to you. You are a super light sleeper. You are strong. Most babies are sort of limp and squishy like cooked spaghetti. Not you. Even when you eat your legs stick out straight as boards. Silly Noli.<br />
We love you so much. Lily loves you and always wants to see your "facey". It is all I can do to protect you for all of her love. Today you had your first bath with your big sister. She loved it and you survived so I count it as a success. Lily's first comment when I put you in the bath was 'Let's see if she sinks!'. I assured her that you do. After she shared (threw) a toy with you it was time for you to get out. Lily was sad. Just the other day your big sister said 'I have been waiting and waiting for a baby just like this and now, I have her!' It was very sweet. <br />
You are a good baby, but still fairly fussy when you are awake (unless you are in the wrap, on mommy with the paci). I think you will feel better when you figure out how to use your body. You seem very frustrated by the limitations of your new body. I think you just want to sit up and be a big girl!<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi61cU5PIzQlrUE-D4NCwivmW02nrBD3cagoPTHoJNviW80ExJ07wVWBwWW8rjnf_2H658mIFO_unkdv8G7wH7jwbVIbC6KaYBVtxyYf5gMrAQAcimYKnVp8Gw33C21lBvTkrg6I8K0eU0/s1600/40399_10150218293075032_150781425031_13879311_4432768_n.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi61cU5PIzQlrUE-D4NCwivmW02nrBD3cagoPTHoJNviW80ExJ07wVWBwWW8rjnf_2H658mIFO_unkdv8G7wH7jwbVIbC6KaYBVtxyYf5gMrAQAcimYKnVp8Gw33C21lBvTkrg6I8K0eU0/s320/40399_10150218293075032_150781425031_13879311_4432768_n.jpg" /></a><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg2H5NxEJjP080R4wKDoXytH-Uw61ylCeikqgQDMUNV9-t9BgdIRtVJ0u4h_lURF0wiJcqbiwgyfij4z38O6a-eFsXfjEG2WQ0vEfVpp9G5OpFGrJKPMiMMVTKsBHcAc2wOCH98CJDhq_g/s1600/40399_10150218293050032_150781425031_13879307_258202_n.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg2H5NxEJjP080R4wKDoXytH-Uw61ylCeikqgQDMUNV9-t9BgdIRtVJ0u4h_lURF0wiJcqbiwgyfij4z38O6a-eFsXfjEG2WQ0vEfVpp9G5OpFGrJKPMiMMVTKsBHcAc2wOCH98CJDhq_g/s320/40399_10150218293050032_150781425031_13879307_258202_n.jpg" /></a></div>I love you and am so happy to have you in our family. Little Noli, you are loved.Meghttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14695400983881889370noreply@blogger.com5tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3278531183853333290.post-41625880975070364762010-07-10T07:36:00.000-10:002010-07-10T07:36:04.769-10:00More Magnolia<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEis0sWtg0QMq0MevLuLJ5zxq3_Ra9YB7zEFaeAJPS6ccQViCQzhBXZ4W1KE-7eYuOPfeC9OS6QXVtvDrudhbCY9rUc-si8EFkVAONC4Kij9c61hAZoVdehijAG-oYMtJ4MMRDhNvTLiLbY/s1600/34604_1480078235288_1033765860_31408994_8363062_n.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="266" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEis0sWtg0QMq0MevLuLJ5zxq3_Ra9YB7zEFaeAJPS6ccQViCQzhBXZ4W1KE-7eYuOPfeC9OS6QXVtvDrudhbCY9rUc-si8EFkVAONC4Kij9c61hAZoVdehijAG-oYMtJ4MMRDhNvTLiLbY/s400/34604_1480078235288_1033765860_31408994_8363062_n.jpg" width="400" /></a></div>Meghttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14695400983881889370noreply@blogger.com7