tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-84069193499048878462024-03-04T22:44:45.210-08:00Lark & Lola HOUSEone craft momma + one left-brained dad + one piggy pot pie + one pie in the ovenHeatherhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13093962932172006220noreply@blogger.comBlogger256125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8406919349904887846.post-40250581431073105792011-03-25T16:59:00.000-07:002011-03-25T17:05:30.241-07:00We're moving!<div style="text-align: center;"><span class="Apple-style-span">We're moving!!!</span></div><div><br /></div><div>Not physically, no, we just signed on another year of our lease here actually and will soon be enjoying the 50,000 irises that bloom in our yard once again... they're already peeping up...</div><div><br /></div><div>But what I really mean is, I'm moving this blog over to a new URL, with a new name and everything. </div><div><br /></div><div>See, the whole, "heatherispreggers" part of this URL has embarrassed me for a while now. What was I thinking when I created this blog???</div><div><br /></div><div>Plus, as of 4 weeks ago I'm not "preggers" anymore. {Honestly I've never even liked the slang "preggers"... why do I do these things to myself? Why?}</div><div><br /></div><div>But don't worry - all the old posts, comments, and labels will still be viewable at the new blog. Everything has moved!</div><div><br /></div><div>So, go check out the new digs - I'll explain what the new name means over there. AND I will finally be adding that birth video now that the new computer is here - Violet had the cutest little first cry, you must watch. </div><div><br /></div><div style="text-align: center;"><span class="Apple-style-span"><a href="http://lastdayago.blogspot.com/">NEW BLOG HERE</a></span></div>Heatherhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13093962932172006220noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8406919349904887846.post-21594980872048623732011-03-14T09:48:00.000-07:002011-03-15T00:02:35.974-07:00The House Elf's Revenge<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-P55XUb7Shnw/TX5M50DfgwI/AAAAAAAAHt4/e33jFcKWh3k/s1600/2011-03-05%2B23.03.16.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 300px;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-P55XUb7Shnw/TX5M50DfgwI/AAAAAAAAHt4/e33jFcKWh3k/s400/2011-03-05%2B23.03.16.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5583985144095539970" /></a><div style="text-align: center;"><span class="Apple-style-span" >{Naked pie!}</span></div><div style="text-align: center;"><span class="Apple-style-span"><br /></span></div>I had all intentions of posting Violet's birth video by now, but a<span class="Apple-style-span"> <span class="Apple-style-span">certain house elf</span></span> spilled water on my laptop. It happened in slow motion one day last week, whilst I has stuck on the couch nursing the new pie. <div style="text-align: center;"><br /></div><div>The house elf has become much more brazen and much less responsive to threats of discipline since the new pie came home. So when she was pulling the straw out of my's hospital-issued water mug, the "STOP! STOP!" I screamed from the couch meant nothing, and right before my eyes the house elf killed my computer. This was, no doubt, punishment for bringing home the <span class="Apple-style-span">new screaming pie</span>. </div><div><img src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-Tt9ht3b_UR0/TX5M4-3RwGI/AAAAAAAAHto/ufgIGfLL4NA/s400/2011-03-13%2B11.35.23.jpg" style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 300px;" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5583985129817227362" /><div style="text-align: center;"><span class="Apple-style-span"><br /></span></div></div><div style="text-align: center;"><span class="Apple-style-span">The house elf "tickling" baby while mommy begs her to stop {it's rare Violet sleeps through a car ride.}</span></div><div style="text-align: center;"><span class="Apple-style-span"><br /></span></div><div>Until we work up the courage to spend the money on a new laptop, I'll have to blog with Justin's work-issued IBM. As soon as the edited video is retrievable from my hard drive I'll be sure to post it. {Don't worry, it still exists, the house elf is not crafty enough to know how to destroy that.}</div><div style="text-align: center;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: center;">________________________________________</div><div style="text-align: center;"><br /></div><div>After 42 pregnant weeks that seemed to last forever, I'm already in awe of how quickly the past 3 weeks of V-Pie's life have gone by. She is a really good baby, already sleeps through the night 95% of the time!<span class="Apple-style-span"> We'll take it.</span></div><img src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-9bwII0ilB3o/TX5M5X-TaeI/AAAAAAAAHtw/i1bo3VhBbjs/s400/2011-03-08%2B15.23.36.jpg" style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 300px;" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5583985136557582818" /><div style="text-align: center;"><span class="Apple-style-span">Daddy doing some "baby wearing" with the Moby wrap. </span></div><div style="text-align: center;"><span class="Apple-style-span"><br /></span></div><div>While Eis-Pie is still addicted to the pacifier after 2.5 years of life, V-Pie is of the opposite persuasion and refuses to let anything calm her except ME. I can easily spend 4 hours straight on the couch nursing her if I let her. She will reluctantly take a bottle, but it has been difficult for us {me, really} to get out of the house as Violet is not a fan of the car seat and is too much of a fan of my boobs. </div><div><img src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-t8C8EG04o70/TX5M4jOZLqI/AAAAAAAAHtg/E_DwsTAx7ZA/s400/2011-03-10%2B21.30.26.jpg" style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 300px;" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5583985122397990562" /></div><div style="text-align: center;"><span class="Apple-style-span">This right here is why I could have 19 babies. RIP laptop...</span></div><div style="text-align: center;"><span class="Apple-style-span"><br /></span></div><div>You forget, even having done it before, how hard it is to have a newborn. But it is such a blessed time! Hard but wonderful. She will grow up so fast, this period of our lives is so fleeting that I am just trying to hold on to it as long as I can - even if it means spending 4 hours stuck on the couch helpless while <span class="Apple-style-span">the house elf destroys the home</span>. </div><div><br /></div><div>I know things get easier every day, too. Violet grows a little more independent each day and will continue to do so until someday she's moving herself out of the house or picking out a wedding dress. Eisley is already a reminder of how short this season of life is. </div><div><br /></div><div>At my check-up for my doctor to look at my incision, I asked him how many c-sections were <i>too</i> many. <span class="Apple-style-span">I was sincerely curious:</span> does it get to a point where 3 or 4 c-sections are dangerous? No, he said, you can have as many as you want {although he admitted, as I already knew, any surgery comes with it's risks}. We're not planning the next one yet, and have not even decided if there will BE a third pie, but I just know that before I blink Violet will be as old as Eisley is now and I might get baby fever again...</div><div><br /></div><div>but maybe not. After all, like I said: this season is hard. </div><div><br /></div><div>But <i>wonderful</i>. SO wonderful. Worth the 42 weeks & 1 day a hundred times over. </div><div><br /></div><div>Does it scare you that right now it makes total sense to me why that Duggar lady has had 19 of them???<br /><br /></div><div>How can you blame me, when this is what I get to stare at all day:</div><div><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-gPxLzEnqZM8/TX5M4JKDe6I/AAAAAAAAHtY/U3nhLNmMz6A/s1600/2011-03-01%2B15.18.51.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 300px;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-gPxLzEnqZM8/TX5M4JKDe6I/AAAAAAAAHtY/U3nhLNmMz6A/s400/2011-03-01%2B15.18.51.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5583985115400469410" /></a><div style="text-align: center;"><span class="Apple-style-span">That's one of the few times she's taken a pacifier... sigh...</span></div></div><div style="text-align: center;"><br /></div>Don't fear, I just keep telling myself <span class="Apple-style-span">19 babies would turn into 19 teenagers</span>.Heatherhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13093962932172006220noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8406919349904887846.post-76763030893649017402011-02-26T19:14:00.000-08:002011-02-26T23:35:58.515-08:00Violet's Birth Story<div style="text-align: center; color: rgb(153, 153, 255); font-weight: bold;"><span style="font-size:180%;">Well, folks, she's finally here.<br /></span></div><br />Actually she's been here for 6 days now. The past 6 days have gone by like a swift breeze, a stark contrast to the slow weeks before when I would have sworn I was living my own hellish version of the movie Groundhog Day. Every day I woke up pregnant, for 16 entire days past my due date... longest days of my life.<br /><br />Seeing as I was carrying the label of "gestational diabetic" {even though I still have serious doubts I really was a diabetic}, it's amazing my doctor "let" me go to 42 weeks. Most doctors insist on induction for GD moms at 38 weeks, as GD moms are at higher risk of having fat babies that get stuck in the birth canal. My doctor didn't bring up induction until I hit week 40, and we went so far as to schedule one at that point. But once the day arrived, I called and canceled. I had my heart set on going into labor naturally, along with a gut feeling that it wasn't time and I was also planning on a VBAC using the Hypnobirthing technique. Seeing as 40% of attempted VBACs are unsuccessful, however, I knew another c-section was a definite possibility.<br /><br />Here is how Violet came to be:<br /><br />Just kidding, that part is personal. Here is how she was born, 42 weeks later:<br /><br />I'll spare you the grueling emotional rollercoaster of the weeks preceding her birth. I complained enough about that on Facebook, anyway. {Justin likes to refer to my recent moods as "hormotional".} I wonder how many people got sick of my whiny status updates and defriended me?<br /><br />I went into labor on my own around 5am on Saturday the 19th! When I woke up that morning to the undeniable symptoms of early labor I literally did a happy dance. I was scheduled to be induced the very next night, at 42 weeks + 2 days, and had been panicking at the thought. Many might not think induction is so bad, but after weeks {months!} of research on natural birthing and the obvious benefits, I've learned just how tricky inductions can be and they are rarely free of complications and interventions.<br /><br />Contractions came all day Saturday, getting stronger and closer together like they're supposed to, but very slowly. It wasn't until 8pm, after spending the day at my parents house which is minutes from the hospital, that I finally decided to call the doctor and see if I should head to the hospital. Contractions were 5-7 minutes apart, and getting more intense. I was using my Hypnobirthing techniques to keep myself relaxed and in very little pain, but it'd been about 13 hours since the onset of labor, I was eager to get things moving.<br /><br />My doctor wasn't available that night, so instead I got a hold of the on-call doctor, "Dr. G". He was surprised to learn I was a VBAC {vaginal birth after cesarean} with {supposed} GD and had been "allowed" to go to 42 weeks. I explained to him that I really hadn't given my doctor a choice on the matter. {My recent research on natural birthing had made me feel all empowered! I believe women should educated them on the birthing process instead of walking into labor & delivery blindly trusting their doctor and allowing he/she to make all the choices. It is, after all, my body - my choice.}<br /><br />Dr. G agreed it might be good for me to head to the hospital to see if Violet was descending and labor was progressing. If I was still in early labor, I could go home for the night.<br /><br />I took my time, ate dinner, and tearfully said goodbye to Eisley. {Hormotional}. It was hard to leave her! I felt like I was abandoning her. We headed into the hospital around 10:30pm. I was torn between wanting to stay and wanting to go home. On one hand I hoped I would get there and be surprisingly advanced - maybe dilated to 5 or 6? Then I would be able to stay and look forward to the birth soon to come! On the other hand, I was going on 17 hours of labor at this point {albeit early labor} and was growing tired. The thought of going home and getting some sleep or taking a bath sounded really good.<br /><br />I was one of only two women in labor & delivery when we got to the hospital. Unfortunately I was assigned to <span style="font-style: italic;">that </span>nurse. The majority of the nurses in labor & delivery and also postpartum have been wonderful, in my previous experience. But there's always that <span style="font-style: italic;">one </span>nurse you hear about. And just like last time with Eisley's birth, my first nurse was <span style="font-style: italic;">the one</span>. Justin and I didn't like her at all. Just more reason to go home.<br /><br />After 17 hours of labor & steady contractions, I was dilated to 1cm! The nurse tried to make a mountain out of a mole hill regarding <span style="font-style: italic;">one </span>heart decel Violet had {tsk, tsk, using scare tactics on patients} and demanded I take a test to ensure my water hadn't broken {it hadn't}, but in the end I insisted on going home to get rest where I'd be more comfortable. Being only 1cm, it was obvious this might be a while.<br /><br />She sure did take her time getting us discharged, especially considering I was one of two patients on the entire floor that night, but we finally left around 2:30 am.<br /><br />By the time we got home, it was obvious labor was progressing at least some {I'd give more details, but it'd just gross you out}. My Hypnobirthing techniques had been serving me well up to that point, but now I was going on almost 24 full hours of zero sleep, so the relaxation and visualization techniques I'd been practicing for weeks were losing their effectiveness. The contractions were getting really strong, they were absolutely gripping at this point. I couldn't walk or move during them, nor could I talk other than select four-letter words. I'd been hoping that the 42+ week pregnancy meant I'd be rewarded with one of those fast labors, or at least one less than 12 hours like so many subsequent pregnancies end up with. Unfortunately mine was proving to be a long and difficult one, and I was starting to doubt my ability to go without drugs like I'd planned.<br /><br />Unable to sleep with the contractions growing more intense, I got into the bathtub. I can certainly understand why so many women do water births! The warm bath served as a natural pain killer and probably cut the intensity of my contractions by 50%. Justin took the opportunity to nap on the couch, and I even enjoyed a glass of wine and just prayed that progress was being made. But all good baths grow cold eventually and by the time I was shivering I admitted to myself it was time to get out and see what happened next...<br /><br />And what happened next was Justin & I in bed until 7am, him sleeping in four-minute increments and me clawing into his arm and moaning in four-minute increments. I'd given up on my Hypnobirthing techniques by this point, way too exhausted from 24+ hours of laboring to put in the concentration it took to put mind over matter and dull the pain. We knew, around 8:30am, that it was time to head back to the hospital - if not to hopefully give birth shortly, then to at least get some sort of pain relief.<br /><br />If I was lucky enough to arrive at the hospital with advanced dilation, maybe 5cm or more?, then I would keep trucking, I decided. But if not, well, I'd decide when I got there...<br /><br />I muttered a "few" expletives on the drive to the hospital.<br /><br />When we parked I got out of the car and stood there for a couple minutes, shivering in the cold, unable to move until the contraction subsided. {I'm really not trying to be dramatic here, people, does this sound over-indulgent in the pity area? I'm just trying to tell it like it was...}<br /><br />This time I arrived in labor & delivery they were busier, and I was <span style="font-style: italic;">blessed </span>to be assigned a wonderful nurse! She was Irish, from Dublin, and she was wonderful and suited me perfectly. {Nurses may not seem like a big deal, but when you're dealing with a woman who is helping you manage the discomfort and seeing/touching parts of your body even you aren't familiar with - to me their personality can make all the difference.}<br /><br />I had been hoping for more progress, but at this point I was 3cm & 70% effaced. At least it was <span style="font-style: italic;">something</span>. But seeing as labor was now approaching 30 hours and it seemed I had miles to go, when she mentioned my natural birth plan I started to cave. Who knew how many more hours I'd be in labor? And I realized I wouldn't do so well without rest, so the epidural was starting to look really appealing at this point, despite the fact that I'd so hoped to avoid it. If I knew at that point that it'd only be a few more hours, I'd like to think I would have pushed through. But I had no way of knowing how much longer it'd be, so I caved. I needed rest!<br /><br />My wonderful Irish nurse, who started out her career as a certified nurse midwife, was so reassuring at this point. She'd done a natural birth herself, but also one with an epidural, she knew what I was going through at that moment and praised me for going that far - which in my hormotional state was so lovely to hear from someone at that point, bless her.<br /><br />I forgot to mention - the most significant factor regarding my slow going labor at this point: Violet was not descending, she was still at a -3/-2 station {about as high as they can be}. This was exactly like Eisley's birth had gone, 18 hours of labor/failed induction she hadn't descended, which resulted in a c-section...<br /><br />Now close to 30 hours of real labor - without any descent on the baby's part... not boding well for a VBAC.<br /><br />I was surprised that the anesthesiologist came very shortly after I arrived, and the relief was oh so sweet. For the first time in well over a day, I could truly rest while my body kept laboring. The epidural, while not ideal for those who prefer natural, is still a wonderful invention. Contractions were coming stronger than ever, regularly 2-3 minutes apart and strong on the monitor. These were baby-having contractions, Irish nurse assured me. Hopefully they'd produce some progress soon.<br /><br />Dr. G arrived shortly after the epidural, confirmed the slow progress and Violet's high station, and also discovered that my water had broken at some point. {I'm guessing when I was in the bath?}<br /><br />I liked Dr. G, even though he wasn't willing to offer me much hope. "I'll be honest, if you can manage a VBAC at this point I'll be impressed." He was right, my labor was way off the curve, as he put it. 30+ hours with this little progression, specifically Violet's station, and considering I was a VBAC with GD and a previous failed induction, the odds were stacked very high against me by this point.<br /><br />But since Violet was doing so well and I was now resting comfortably, we decided to see if the epidural helped relax me enough to produce some progress and gave it a few more hours. Dr. G could have given me pitocin to produce stronger contractions in hopes of forcing Violet down, but I was pleased that he wasn't thrilled with the idea since I had a uterine scar that could possibly rupture with such strong drug-induced contractions. {I am NOT a fan of pitocin, having done research on it.}<br /><br />There are several possible reasons why Violet {and Eisley} did not want to descend, we're just not sure what exactly what prevented it. With both births now the doctors liked to think I was going to have huge babies. Eisley was estimated to weigh 9 lbs with a huge head before I gave birth {she was a mere 6 pounder with a little head} and the doctors assumed with Violet since I had {borderline!} GD & went to 42 weeks that she would be enormous. Dr. G said at one point, "If we do a c-section and she's a 9 pounder I'll be saying 'You're welcome!'" He was obviously concerned about the fact that I was a GD patient at 42 weeks... even though I wasn't.<br /><br />But despite my lack of concern that Violet was large {I never thought she really was}, when 1:45pm rolled around - Sunday the 20th - and I was <span style="font-style: italic;">still </span>at 3cm with Violet as high up as she could be, I seriously began to think c-section. Dr. G was not at all pushy, since Violet was still doing great considering my strong contractions. Both he & Irish nurse expressed their doubts on my ability to have a successful VBAC at this point, but they were willing to allow me to keep going. This was the same point I had reached with Eisley two and a half years ago. Ultimately, I made the decision. C-section it would be.<br /><br />After 42 weeks, 2 days {I know, I know, I keep saying this - but <span style="font-style: italic;">seriously</span>} and now <span style="font-style: italic;">34 hours of labor and no sleep - I WAS READY TO MEET MY BABY!</span><br /><br />Just like last time, I coped by going over the positives in my head. It wasn't as I'd planned, but focusing on things to be thankful for keeps us from getting bitter - that is what I believe, even though I don't always practice it.<br /><br />First, I wouldn't re-break my tailbone which was broken towards my birth canal years ago after a fall from a horse {and now, 6 days post-birth, having spent hours on my butt recovering & nursing Violet, I've already experienced enough discomfort with my <span style="font-style: italic;">healed </span>tailbone to be very thankful it's not re-broken from a vaginal birth. The doctor who'd x-rayed my tailbone years ago had warned me I'd break it again when I gave birth. The breastfeeding would just not be happening if it had, it already gives me discomfort as it is.}<br /><br />Second, I already have the "battle wounds" from a previous c-section. Subsequent c-sections are notoriously easier to recover from, as they go through the scar tissue from before. It is possibly quite a good thing to not have "battle wounds" from a vaginal birth as well. Better one or the other than both, I suppose. Rumor has it you can suffer all sorts of unpleasantness such as incontinence, etc., after giving birth vaginally.<br /><br />Finally, despite it being a major surgery with longer recovery, there are some added benefits to the cesarean. I'll leave it at that, but being a veteran of two now, I have to say they're not all that bad in more ways than one. Not the end of the world. Many women even ask for c-sections these days. I had hoped to do it the way God intended, but I prayed and it was not so. There must be a good reason.<br /><br />I'm just blessed to have two beautiful daughters now after two successful pregnancies.<br /><br />And so around 3pm on Sunday the 20th of February, I was prepped for surgery. This time around I wasn't even nervous! I knew I'd finally have my baby in my arms and I was looking forward to the 42 weeks, 2 days, and 34 hours of labor to be <span style="font-style: italic;">OVER</span>. Once and for all.<br /><br />Violet was born at 3:55pm.<br /><br />She weighed a whopping 7 lbs 13 oz {haha! Take THAT doctors who tried to scare me with the "Your baby is going to be HUGE because you [supposedly] have GD and are at 42 weeks!!!" Obviously I'd been right to follow my gut. She might not have fared as well had I allowed them to induce me at the standard 38 weeks for GD patients. Momma knows best!}<br /><br />Her apgar score was 8/9 - perfect for Colorado.<br /><br />I would detail the birth itself, but this post is already entirely too long, <span style="font-weight: bold;">AND why tell you when I can show you???</span><br /><br />Within the next couple days here I'll be posting the video Justin took of the c-section & Violet's birth! Don't worry, it's not at all graphic {except for the part where Violet pooped herself}.<br /><br />Until then, please enjoy some pictures of Violet's first days. We love her!!! What a treasure God has sent us. Again.<br /><br /><div style="text-align: center;"><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-YWDGJtsPR8I/TWn9hyWXXfI/AAAAAAAAHtQ/UMeZCIy7pa8/s1600/175154_10150108868047446_503787445_6218794_5303933_o.jpg"><img style="display: block; margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 266px;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-YWDGJtsPR8I/TWn9hyWXXfI/AAAAAAAAHtQ/UMeZCIy7pa8/s400/175154_10150108868047446_503787445_6218794_5303933_o.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5578268370368159218" border="0" /></a><span style="color: rgb(153, 153, 255); font-weight: bold;">Our family of FOUR!</span><br /><span style="color: rgb(153, 153, 255); font-weight: bold;">{Woo! I am </span><span style="font-style: italic; color: rgb(153, 153, 255); font-weight: bold;">seriously </span><span style="color: rgb(153, 153, 255); font-weight: bold;">puffed up. Ya'll should SEE my post-cesarean cankles. Frightening.}</span><br /><a style="color: rgb(153, 153, 255); font-weight: bold;" onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-PRsJVyTbLJI/TWn8795aEMI/AAAAAAAAHtI/iIy93eaG040/s1600/2011-02-21%2B13.01.02.jpg"><img style="display: block; margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 300px;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-PRsJVyTbLJI/TWn8795aEMI/AAAAAAAAHtI/iIy93eaG040/s400/2011-02-21%2B13.01.02.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5578267720632897730" border="0" /></a><span style="color: rgb(153, 153, 255); font-weight: bold;">Another tiny finger this poor guy is suddenly wrapped around. </span><br /><a style="color: rgb(153, 153, 255); font-weight: bold;" onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-bzq0cQH1stA/TWn87qFZzUI/AAAAAAAAHtA/Qr2Kqv29M44/s1600/2011-02-21%2B11.44.44.jpg"><img style="display: block; margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 300px;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-bzq0cQH1stA/TWn87qFZzUI/AAAAAAAAHtA/Qr2Kqv29M44/s400/2011-02-21%2B11.44.44.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5578267715314502978" border="0" /></a><span style="color: rgb(153, 153, 255); font-weight: bold;">Don't forget to leave a comment at the end of this post! No account needed.<br />Do you think she looks like Eisley?</span><br /><a style="color: rgb(153, 153, 255); font-weight: bold;" onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-iRf7h4Jh-Ek/TWn87gyoo9I/AAAAAAAAHs4/PrvqDoHxAdE/s1600/2011-02-23%2B11.36.37.jpg"><img style="display: block; margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 300px;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-iRf7h4Jh-Ek/TWn87gyoo9I/AAAAAAAAHs4/PrvqDoHxAdE/s400/2011-02-23%2B11.36.37.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5578267712819864530" border="0" /></a><span style="color: rgb(153, 153, 255); font-weight: bold;">Ready to go home after three nights in the hospital. </span><br /><br /><span style="color: rgb(153, 153, 255); font-weight: bold;">Come back soon to see the video of Violet's birth!</span><br /></div>Heatherhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13093962932172006220noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8406919349904887846.post-79867308176429444862011-02-15T21:47:00.000-08:002011-02-15T22:25:22.044-08:00Violet, where are you?<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-gw8VRerCFYc/TVtk-bDXPiI/AAAAAAAAHsw/Spcl5WZ0BV0/s1600/screen_2011-02-15%2B22.43.58.jpg"><img style="display: block; margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 267px; height: 400px;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-gw8VRerCFYc/TVtk-bDXPiI/AAAAAAAAHsw/Spcl5WZ0BV0/s400/screen_2011-02-15%2B22.43.58.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5574159987377651234" border="0" /></a>In an hour I will be 12 days past my estimated due date. Or 10, if you go by the internet's EDD instead of my doctor's. Either way...<br /><div style="text-align: center; color: rgb(153, 153, 255); font-weight: bold;"><span style="font-size:180%;"><br />SERIOUSLY??? You're killing me, kiddo.<br /></span></div><br />Earlier in this pregnancy I had some serious doubts I'd make it to February. Then I made it to February and I thought, "Will I make it to my due date on the 4th?"<br /><br />And then the 4th came... and then freaking Valentine's Day. And still, this kid is not budging.<br /><br />And I'm not <span style="font-style: italic;">so </span>happy about it.<br /><br />I know that I should be. I should just be thankful I'm pregnant and healthy and that Violet is healthy. But there is something about being 38+ weeks pregnant. Once you hit a point {I say around the 38th week} you go completely irrational in your thinking. It's like being insane, I know the logical side of all of this, but I'm still absolutely crazed with all sorts of wild thoughts that make no sense.<br /><br />For example, I am sincerely convinced that I'm going to be pregnant forever. At this point, I see no other possibility. I'm stuck in this state. Three weeks of nightly false labor is not helping, either. By the time this is over, Justin could very well have more hair than me.<br /><br />I also see other pregnant women and think completely nasty thoughts towards them. I have cat fights with them in my head, "You think you're more pregnant than <span style="font-style: italic;">me</span>?! NO ONE is more pregnant than me!"<br /><br />Then there are the totally well-meaning family & friends. God bless them, they can't ask the simplest question about me right now without getting my wrath. {I spent a wonderful afternoon with my parents on Saturday, but to be honest when they showed up at the door looking shocked & commenting at the size of my stomach, I'll admit, I had some fairly violent thoughts towards them in that moment... looooove you.}<br /><br /> I'm sorry. I really am. It's just hard to handle all the questions & comments right now when I'm questioning so much myself...<br /><br />Like, <span style="font-style: italic;">Is this ever going to end? What if I'm broken? What if I never go into labor? What is wrong with me that she hasn't come out yet?</span> After all, I've already had one c-section...<br /><br />I'm avoiding a lot of friends & family right now, also not going to church these days. I just can't face the "You're <span style="font-style: italic;">still </span>pregnant?" and the "Where is that baby???"<br /><br />I <span style="font-style: italic;">should </span>be in the hospital right now, actually. I had an induction scheduled for tonight. At my appointment last Thursday my doctor handed me a card. "8pm, Tuesday 15th" it said. He doesn't want me going past 42 weeks {which I will be as of Friday - or Sunday according to Mr. Internet}. At first I thought, well okay! Here is a light at the end of the tunnel. In a week I will be holding my baby for certain, they won't let me go much further...<br /><br />But as Tuesday approached, I found myself growing incredibly anxious. I didn't like having a deadline. I had a breakdown in the shower on Monday morning. Valentine's Day and I was bawling my eyes out and crying to God to please end this torture.<br /><br />I realized that being "put on the clock" was stressing me out. Additionally, they technically don't have a great reason to induce me. Believe me, I'd LOVE to get this over with. However, induction creates a whole new set of complications, such as a drastically increased c-section rate and longer labors, more interventions. When I really got to thinking about it, I decided I didn't want to do the induction. I don't want or need a deadline quite yet.<br /><br />My blood pressure is fine, glucose levels good, baby is active, ultrasounds good, weekly non-stress tests are good... why rush nature? I'm also not considered "favorable" for induction, which is never a good place to start, and that definitely raises my c-section chances. Even though I'd really love to end this... I just... can't.<br /><br />I don't think my doctor is really very happy about my decision, but I don't care. I have to be patient, so does he.<br /><br />Speaking of patience, wouldn't you know this is something I've been praying for in recent months? Ha! My impatience is what I consider to be one of my greatest character flaws. I'm horribly impatient.<br /><br />So I've been asking God lately to "teach me patience". Again, the irrational side of myself is kicking my own butt right now for requesting such a lesson. What is <span style="font-style: italic;">wrong </span>with me? The logical Heather inside of me knows it's probably good for me, like vegetables, because this is some <span style="font-style: italic;">serious </span>practice in patience.<br /><br />The logical Heather also knows, you can't be pregnant forever. As Psalm 139 says, I am "fearfully and wonderfully made", I can do this by the grace of God. Violet will come when it's time, because "all the days ordained for [her] were written in your book before one of them came to be..."<br /><div style="text-align: center; color: rgb(153, 153, 255); font-weight: bold;"><span style="font-size:180%;"><br />Here's to hoping that first day is NOW.<br /></span></div><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-Lp3B-ho99fw/TVtk-HUj1JI/AAAAAAAAHso/JuL0gJT931k/s1600/screen_2011-02-15%2B22.42.50.jpg"><img style="display: block; margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 251px;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-Lp3B-ho99fw/TVtk-HUj1JI/AAAAAAAAHso/JuL0gJT931k/s400/screen_2011-02-15%2B22.42.50.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5574159982081070226" border="0" /></a>Heatherhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13093962932172006220noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8406919349904887846.post-41758016509224467722011-01-29T19:45:00.000-08:002011-01-29T20:02:47.864-08:00Me, Pie, & the Nikon...<div style="text-align: center; color: rgb(0, 51, 51);"><span style="font-size:130%;"><span style="color: rgb(51, 153, 153); font-weight: bold;">at the park.</span><br /></span></div><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_XTzX7NUBjh0/TUTf8ZByEII/AAAAAAAAHsM/32WrEm1RDwM/s1600/DSC_0725-1.JPG"><img style="display: block; margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 267px;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_XTzX7NUBjh0/TUTf8ZByEII/AAAAAAAAHsM/32WrEm1RDwM/s400/DSC_0725-1.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5567821267940282498" border="0" /></a><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_XTzX7NUBjh0/TUTf8GqvQAI/AAAAAAAAHsE/uPpmJwNsczc/s1600/DSC_0758-1.JPG"><img style="display: block; margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 267px;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_XTzX7NUBjh0/TUTf8GqvQAI/AAAAAAAAHsE/uPpmJwNsczc/s400/DSC_0758-1.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5567821263011790850" border="0" /></a><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_XTzX7NUBjh0/TUTilkNdh3I/AAAAAAAAHsU/rwDhQKZR2Zk/s1600/DSC_0731-1.JPG"><img style="display: block; margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 267px;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_XTzX7NUBjh0/TUTilkNdh3I/AAAAAAAAHsU/rwDhQKZR2Zk/s400/DSC_0731-1.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5567824174339950450" border="0" /></a><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_XTzX7NUBjh0/TUTf7XgoFnI/AAAAAAAAHr0/ETzbJXxoSMY/s1600/DSC_0767-1.JPG"><img style="display: block; margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 267px;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_XTzX7NUBjh0/TUTf7XgoFnI/AAAAAAAAHr0/ETzbJXxoSMY/s400/DSC_0767-1.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5567821250352911986" border="0" /></a>Heatherhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13093962932172006220noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8406919349904887846.post-19715896720748943842011-01-23T14:32:00.000-08:002011-01-23T16:22:27.669-08:00Seven Blessed Years<div style="text-align: center;"><span style="color: rgb(153, 153, 255);font-size:180%;" >Our 7th Wedding Anniversary</span><br /></div><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_XTzX7NUBjh0/TTyxDUfsRUI/AAAAAAAAHoU/wZeJRm7TC2Y/s1600/DSC_0217.JPG"><img style="display: block; margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 267px;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_XTzX7NUBjh0/TTyxDUfsRUI/AAAAAAAAHoU/wZeJRm7TC2Y/s400/DSC_0217.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5565517910122448194" border="0" /></a><span style="font-size:180%;"><span style="font-weight: bold; color: rgb(102, 102, 204);"><span style="color: rgb(153, 153, 255);">I've decided</span> </span></span>I'll have to make a tradition out of taking this sort of picture of myself when we go out to celebrate our anniversary. It wasn't until I got home and loaded my pictures onto my computer, I realized I did <a href="http://heatherispreggers.blogspot.com/2010/01/celebrating-6-years.html">exactly the same shot last year, at The Oxford Hotel.</a> Weird.<br /><br />I have to be honest, Justin planned this little anniversary getaway 100%,<span style="font-weight: bold;font-size:180%;" ><span style="color: rgb(204, 204, 255);"> <span style="color: rgb(153, 153, 255);">he completely spoiled me</span></span></span>, and I fought him on the whole thing, believe me. I didn't want to leave Eisley {clingy pregnancy hormones} and I told him we didn't need to do anything this fabulous, especially while I was 9 months pregnant. <span style="font-size:180%;"><span style="color: rgb(153, 153, 255); font-weight: bold;">He reminded me that:</span><span style="color: rgb(153, 153, 255);"> </span></span> 1. We wouldn't have a chance to get away again in quite a while, no thanks to Miss Violet and her expected neediness upon arrival. He's right, who knows when our next vacation might be? And our last vacation was well over a year ago... <span style="font-size:180%;"><span style="color: rgb(153, 153, 255);">And: </span></span>2. Our first five years of anniversaries went uncelebrated.<br /><div style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size:180%;"> <span style="color: rgb(153, 153, 255); font-weight: bold;">I caved. And I'm really glad I did. </span></span><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_XTzX7NUBjh0/TTyy2WU00sI/AAAAAAAAHqE/ktz-WAlngAU/s1600/alegria.jpg"><img style="display: block; margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 300px;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_XTzX7NUBjh0/TTyy2WU00sI/AAAAAAAAHqE/ktz-WAlngAU/s400/alegria.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5565519886298698434" border="0" /></a><br /></div>The first thing we did for our mini-getaway was to go see <span style="font-size:180%;"><span style="color: rgb(153, 153, 255); font-weight: bold;">Cirque du Soleil's Alegria</span></span>. It was, of course, magical. We've seen two other shows before, Varekai & Corteo. We have yet to see a CdS show that didn't leave us astounded. It's an art form on it's own.<br /><br />They have everything: contortionists, trapeze artists, flame throwers, clowns {the artistic, non-scary kind}, out of this world costumes, tantalizing music... we love this art form. <a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_XTzX7NUBjh0/TTyyxliVTvI/AAAAAAAAHp8/eYYb5B3P84U/s1600/Cirque-du-Soleil-Alegria-Russian-bars.jpg"><img style="display: block; margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 354px;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_XTzX7NUBjh0/TTyyxliVTvI/AAAAAAAAHp8/eYYb5B3P84U/s400/Cirque-du-Soleil-Alegria-Russian-bars.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5565519804482539250" border="0" /></a><br />Since Alegria was running down in Colorado Springs, Justin decided to make reservations for us to stay in nearby Manitou Springs - <span style="font-size:180%;"><span style="color: rgb(153, 153, 255); font-weight: bold;">a quirky, hippie town</span></span> that sits at the base of Pikes Peak. I've always loved a trip to Manitou Springs - it's the town Boulder can only aspire to be. Seriously. Gorgeous old buildings, history, amazing views of the mountains and rock formations - there is no town quite like it in all of Colorado. It's a CO gem, to be sure.<br /><br />And Justin, he picked the most lovely place to stay: <span style="font-size:180%;"><span style="color: rgb(153, 153, 255); font-weight: bold;">The Cliff House. </span></span><span style="text-decoration: underline;"><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_XTzX7NUBjh0/TTzBQr0KnzI/AAAAAAAAHq8/27g_UzMs4lc/s1600/cliffhouse.jpg"><img style="display: block; margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 258px;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_XTzX7NUBjh0/TTzBQr0KnzI/AAAAAAAAHq8/27g_UzMs4lc/s400/cliffhouse.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5565535731906682674" border="0" /></a><br /></span>Except it wasn't all green & lush when we were there last week, for obvious reasons. This hotel was brought back to life just over a decade ago after a fire destroyed it's original body. Still, the hotel carries a sense of history with it, and still looks just as lovely as ever. <a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_XTzX7NUBjh0/TTyzZys5jiI/AAAAAAAAHqM/tXDg4vFkFJ4/s1600/thecliffhouse.jpg"><img style="display: block; margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 246px;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_XTzX7NUBjh0/TTyzZys5jiI/AAAAAAAAHqM/tXDg4vFkFJ4/s400/thecliffhouse.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5565520495211286050" border="0" /></a>Yes. If you know me, even just a little, you know Justin made a fantastic choice in staying here. Just like last year with The Oxford. <span style="font-size:180%;"><span style="color: rgb(153, 153, 255);">The man knows how to aesthetically please a woman.</span></span><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_XTzX7NUBjh0/TTyxYwn_caI/AAAAAAAAHpU/hrXlKEzinQk/s1600/DSC_0227.JPG"><img style="display: block; margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 267px;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_XTzX7NUBjh0/TTyxYwn_caI/AAAAAAAAHpU/hrXlKEzinQk/s400/DSC_0227.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5565518278450704802" border="0" /></a><br />The Cliff House has suites named after the celebrities that have stayed there, such as Kathy Bates or Buffalo Bill. Ours was the Jenny Lind Suite -she was<span style="font-size:180%;"><span style="color: rgb(153, 153, 255);"> a Swedish opera singer</span></span>, just like me. <a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_XTzX7NUBjh0/TTyxYk6CzdI/AAAAAAAAHpM/HIZta9RYP3Q/s1600/DSC_0260.JPG"><img style="display: block; margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 268px;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_XTzX7NUBjh0/TTyxYk6CzdI/AAAAAAAAHpM/HIZta9RYP3Q/s400/DSC_0260.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5565518275305197010" border="0" /></a><br />To say the least, it was <span style="font-style: italic;">very </span>nice. <span style="font-style: italic;">Too </span>nice...<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_XTzX7NUBjh0/TTyxYajiNWI/AAAAAAAAHpE/YdR0QDFBQ8w/s1600/DSC_0209.JPG"><img style="display: block; margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 267px;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_XTzX7NUBjh0/TTyxYajiNWI/AAAAAAAAHpE/YdR0QDFBQ8w/s400/DSC_0209.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5565518272526431586" border="0" /></a><br />It was wonderful and superfluous. <span style="font-size:180%;"><span style="color: rgb(153, 153, 255);">Wonderfully superfluous</span></span>, I won't ever forget how lovingly my husband planned this. <a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_XTzX7NUBjh0/TTyxYEg6-uI/AAAAAAAAHo8/eU3N80MkA0g/s1600/DSC_0210.JPG"><img style="display: block; margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 267px;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_XTzX7NUBjh0/TTyxYEg6-uI/AAAAAAAAHo8/eU3N80MkA0g/s400/DSC_0210.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5565518266609892066" border="0" /></a><br />A TV behind a painting! What the...? Take <span style="font-style: italic;">that</span>, Holiday Inn Express...<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_XTzX7NUBjh0/TTyxX4_5ksI/AAAAAAAAHo0/xmzXdr8yEZk/s1600/DSC_0212.JPG"><img style="display: block; margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 267px; height: 400px;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_XTzX7NUBjh0/TTyxX4_5ksI/AAAAAAAAHo0/xmzXdr8yEZk/s400/DSC_0212.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5565518263518597826" border="0" /></a><span style="font-size:180%;"><span style="color: rgb(153, 153, 255);">Our gift from The Cliff House.</span></span> {<span style="font-style: italic;">So</span> beats a shower cap. Even though there was one of those, too...}<br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_XTzX7NUBjh0/TTy6Mp6XGtI/AAAAAAAAHqk/Q44H9IJcL3g/s1600/DSC_0249.JPG"><img style="display: block; margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 269px;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_XTzX7NUBjh0/TTy6Mp6XGtI/AAAAAAAAHqk/Q44H9IJcL3g/s400/DSC_0249.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5565527966094924498" border="0" /></a>Except there was no butler. We had to serve ourselves our <span style="font-style: italic;">own </span>drinks. Lame...<br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_XTzX7NUBjh0/TTyxEd4zN6I/AAAAAAAAHos/30RSSefhUmQ/s1600/DSC_0214.JPG"><img style="display: block; margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 267px;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_XTzX7NUBjh0/TTyxEd4zN6I/AAAAAAAAHos/30RSSefhUmQ/s400/DSC_0214.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5565517929823549346" border="0" /></a><br />No, but seriously, in case you have any doubts on the quality of this hotel...<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_XTzX7NUBjh0/TTyxDzbN2UI/AAAAAAAAHok/FAslcMwi6n0/s1600/DSC_0216.JPG"><img style="display: block; margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 267px;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_XTzX7NUBjh0/TTyxDzbN2UI/AAAAAAAAHok/FAslcMwi6n0/s400/DSC_0216.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5565517918425176386" border="0" /></a><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_XTzX7NUBjh0/TTyxDgq1teI/AAAAAAAAHoc/Y8hjH0vHlwY/s1600/DSC_0224.JPG"><br /></a>behold! You know a place is really schnazzy when they provide you with Aveda products. When I saw these<span style="font-size:180%;"><span style="color: rgb(153, 153, 255);"> I knew we'd be okay</span></span>... {but I still checked the mattress for bed bugs.}<br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_XTzX7NUBjh0/TTyxCeQi33I/AAAAAAAAHoM/OtgC4l55qto/s1600/DSC_0219.JPG"><img style="display: block; margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 267px;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_XTzX7NUBjh0/TTyxCeQi33I/AAAAAAAAHoM/OtgC4l55qto/s400/DSC_0219.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5565517895563403122" border="0" /></a>The Cliff House, to my surprise & delight, was furnished with well over 20 {just from the rooms we saw}<span style="font-size:180%;"><span style="color: rgb(153, 153, 255);"> original Rockey paintings. </span></span>Charles Rockey is a famous Manitou Springs artist. I love his work, and I recognized it almost immediately as my mother owns an original Rockey. She obtained it when she was living in the Springs doing theatre at the Iron Springs Chateau Melodrama and Dinner Theatre. Today he's quite famous - it was amazing to get to see so many of his works up close.<br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_XTzX7NUBjh0/TTywodiI8qI/AAAAAAAAHoE/EsVvf1AOy3k/s1600/DSC_0274.JPG"><img style="display: block; margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 266px; height: 400px;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_XTzX7NUBjh0/TTywodiI8qI/AAAAAAAAHoE/EsVvf1AOy3k/s400/DSC_0274.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5565517448692167330" border="0" /></a>The Cliff House was filled with historic items that<span style="font-size:180%;"><span style="color: rgb(153, 153, 255);"> I wanted to steal</span></span>... but Justin reminded me that they had our credit card on file and this wasn't just some hotel bathrobe you can charge to your room...<br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_XTzX7NUBjh0/TTywnoNeFpI/AAAAAAAAHn8/MJ3iENCB1es/s1600/DSC_0244.JPG"><img style="display: block; margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 267px; height: 400px;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_XTzX7NUBjh0/TTywnoNeFpI/AAAAAAAAHn8/MJ3iENCB1es/s400/DSC_0244.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5565517434378393234" border="0" /></a>Another Rockey of The Cliff House during it's restoration:<br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_XTzX7NUBjh0/TTywlqxXY6I/AAAAAAAAHn0/3wP2VyfaIt4/s1600/DSC_0242.JPG"><img style="display: block; margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 267px;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_XTzX7NUBjh0/TTywlqxXY6I/AAAAAAAAHn0/3wP2VyfaIt4/s400/DSC_0242.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5565517400706081698" border="0" /></a>We didn't have too much time to bum around Manitou, but we did walk down the main strip just a bit. It's a very <span style="font-size:180%;"><span style="color: rgb(153, 153, 255);">eclectic </span></span>little village!<br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_XTzX7NUBjh0/TTywlVW3QuI/AAAAAAAAHns/5w5oaLdNmTo/s1600/DSC_0231.JPG"><img style="display: block; margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 267px;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_XTzX7NUBjh0/TTywlVW3QuI/AAAAAAAAHns/5w5oaLdNmTo/s400/DSC_0231.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5565517394957779682" border="0" /></a><br />I<span style="font-size:180%;"><span style="color: rgb(153, 153, 255);"> panicked when I realized</span></span> we'd forgotten to pack chocolate. But no worries, the local fudge shoppe had us covered.<br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_XTzX7NUBjh0/TTyv5R-F8YI/AAAAAAAAHnU/pgKfIS13qLM/s1600/DSC_0236.JPG"><img style="display: block; margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 267px;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_XTzX7NUBjh0/TTyv5R-F8YI/AAAAAAAAHnU/pgKfIS13qLM/s400/DSC_0236.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5565516638134333826" border="0" /></a>Most of their little shops weren't "my type" of chic boutique, <span style="font-size:180%;"><span style="color: rgb(153, 153, 255);">but interesting and lovely nonetheless.</span></span><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_XTzX7NUBjh0/TTyv43H88VI/AAAAAAAAHnM/o6icOgSif-A/s1600/DSC_0238.JPG"><img style="display: block; margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 267px;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_XTzX7NUBjh0/TTyv43H88VI/AAAAAAAAHnM/o6icOgSif-A/s400/DSC_0238.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5565516630927929682" border="0" /></a>We even took a stroll down Lovers Lane. <span style="font-size:180%;"><span style="color: rgb(153, 153, 255);">Seriously</span></span>.<br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_XTzX7NUBjh0/TTy9DJ1SPEI/AAAAAAAAHq0/TX9f4D8KnyI/s1600/DSC_0232.JPG"><img style="display: block; margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 268px;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_XTzX7NUBjh0/TTy9DJ1SPEI/AAAAAAAAHq0/TX9f4D8KnyI/s400/DSC_0232.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5565531101399759938" border="0" /></a>And then headed back to our room {I labeled our room on the picture below}.<br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_XTzX7NUBjh0/TTyv4v1FEmI/AAAAAAAAHnE/6OJkF2DBdCI/s1600/DSC_0240.JPG"><img style="display: block; margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 267px; height: 400px;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_XTzX7NUBjh0/TTyv4v1FEmI/AAAAAAAAHnE/6OJkF2DBdCI/s400/DSC_0240.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5565516628969722466" border="0" /></a><br />We got cozy and watched... The Fugitive. <span style="font-size:180%;"><span style="color: rgb(153, 153, 255);">Most romantic movie. Ever. </span></span><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_XTzX7NUBjh0/TTyv5u6TifI/AAAAAAAAHnc/lUfamTJi4_Q/s1600/DSC_0261.JPG"><img style="display: block; margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 267px; height: 400px;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_XTzX7NUBjh0/TTyv5u6TifI/AAAAAAAAHnc/lUfamTJi4_Q/s400/DSC_0261.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5565516645903075826" border="0" /></a><br />Justin had made dinner reservations at The Cliff House's dining room. It was absolutely delicious! We had a dinner for two special with house salads, fillet mignon, and creme <em>brulée</em>. Although I did get really angry at myself for not bringing the camera down, especially when another couple a few tables over had the waiter snap their picture - I was insanely jealous. <a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_XTzX7NUBjh0/TTyyXMePA7I/AAAAAAAAHps/731DmEtZ4Hs/s1600/cliffhousedining.jpg"><img style="display: block; margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 300px;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_XTzX7NUBjh0/TTyyXMePA7I/AAAAAAAAHps/731DmEtZ4Hs/s400/cliffhousedining.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5565519351077864370" border="0" /></a>In the morning it was time to pack up and go home, leaving all luxury behind - but getting back to Pie was worth it. <span style="font-size:180%;"><span style="color: rgb(153, 153, 255);">One last stop</span></span>, however, was to get a couple's massage at the Columbine Day Spa. This was a first massage experience for both of us - and this sent our weekend anniversary getaway over the top.<br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_XTzX7NUBjh0/TTyyPpsTMyI/AAAAAAAAHpk/wStlGHtYnhU/s1600/Couples-Suite-1.jpg"><img style="display: block; margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 300px;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_XTzX7NUBjh0/TTyyPpsTMyI/AAAAAAAAHpk/wStlGHtYnhU/s400/Couples-Suite-1.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5565519221482533666" border="0" /></a><br />It's a joy to look back on 7 years with Justin - and to look forward to many more. The weekend ended with me feeling like an incredibly spoiled wife, <span style="font-size:180%;"><span style="color: rgb(153, 153, 255);">which is exactly what I am.</span></span> But I still look back on last year's anniversary with so much fondness, I know the memory of this year's anniversary will last a long time as well. <a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_XTzX7NUBjh0/TTyv4DFzs8I/AAAAAAAAHm8/zqPy2tXbU7o/s1600/DSC_0230.JPG"><img style="display: block; margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 267px;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_XTzX7NUBjh0/TTyv4DFzs8I/AAAAAAAAHm8/zqPy2tXbU7o/s400/DSC_0230.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5565516616960291778" border="0" /></a>Next year I think we should just go to McDonald's...<br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_XTzX7NUBjh0/TTy6gb4yxnI/AAAAAAAAHqs/plkzN3gGqQo/s1600/DSC_0248.JPG"><img style="display: block; margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 267px;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_XTzX7NUBjh0/TTy6gb4yxnI/AAAAAAAAHqs/plkzN3gGqQo/s400/DSC_0248.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5565528305927636594" border="0" /></a>Heatherhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13093962932172006220noreply@blogger.com5tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8406919349904887846.post-32579470708063338242011-01-03T16:51:00.000-08:002011-01-03T17:29:54.463-08:00The Violet Report<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_XTzX7NUBjh0/TSJv3eGBdqI/AAAAAAAAHlc/YQpzkxRsFNc/s1600/violetgraceus.jpg"> <img style="display: block; margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 300px;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_XTzX7NUBjh0/TSJv3eGBdqI/AAAAAAAAHlc/YQpzkxRsFNc/s400/violetgraceus.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5558127888890427042" border="0" /></a>In case you can't make out her face:<br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_XTzX7NUBjh0/TSJv3OQq_0I/AAAAAAAAHlU/fEasWRu9P_8/s1600/156685_476607494716_501274716_5550301_4101610_n.jpg"><img style="display: block; margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 383px; height: 287px;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_XTzX7NUBjh0/TSJv3OQq_0I/AAAAAAAAHlU/fEasWRu9P_8/s400/156685_476607494716_501274716_5550301_4101610_n.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5558127884640124738" border="0" /></a>With just over 30 days left until my due date, I'm posting a <span style="font-size:180%;"><span style="color: rgb(102, 51, 102); font-weight: bold;">Violet Report</span></span>. I just got home from visiting the doctor, and I feel so blessed every time I visit and get nothing but good news & "everything looks good's".<br /><br />Here are some stats:<br /><ul><li>Violet is currently head down {although that can still change}</li><li>So far, no dropping, no dilating, no effacing - which is all just fine<br /></li><li>My BP is okay, but slightly higher than average - no worries there <span style="font-style: italic;">yet </span>{and I did have a crazy day, so that can contribute}</li><li>Violet's heartbeat is 130, perfect</li><li>In another 4 days I can go into labor and they won't try and stop me!<br /></li><li>I've only gained one pound since last month, which is especially great since they <span style="font-style: italic;">technically</span> diagnosed me with gestational diabetes - even though I really don't believe I have it because my glucose numbers have been normal despite not changing my diet dramatically {I have to stick myself 4 times a day to test}, I haven't needed any meds like insulin, and the perinatologist I saw told me during an ultrasound, "If it wasn't for you failing the glucose test I'd never believe you have gestational diabetes." I really believe, if anything, I'm barely "borderline" gd. But anyway,<span style="font-style: italic;"> one pound</span>, and after the holidays no less - yay!</li></ul><span style="font-size:180%;"><span style="color: rgb(102, 51, 102); font-weight: bold;">Please keep myself & Violet in your prayers if you think of us! Now that I go to the doctor every week until she arrives, I'll keep everyone posted on how we're doing.<br /></span><span style="color: rgb(102, 51, 102);"><br /></span></span><div style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size:180%;"><span style="color: rgb(102, 51, 102);">{Don't miss the previous post - a video of Eisley's 2010!}</span></span><br /></div>Heatherhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13093962932172006220noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8406919349904887846.post-54786964721472044472010-12-31T22:59:00.000-08:002010-12-31T23:22:21.420-08:00Hello 2011<span style="font-size:180%;"><span style="color: rgb(51, 153, 153); font-weight: bold;">Dear Eisley, </span><br /></span><br />This year was fabulous, but you probably won't remember the best moments as you're only 2. Please enjoy this video/slide-show of some of my favorite moments {set to a Flogging Molly song, oh my!}:<br /><br /><iframe src="http://player.vimeo.com/video/18338747?title=0&byline=0&portrait=0" width="398" frameborder="0" height="299"></iframe><br /><br /><br /><span style="color: rgb(51, 153, 153);font-size:180%;" ><br /><br /><span style="font-weight: bold;">Love, </span><br /><span style="font-weight: bold;">Mommy</span><br /><span style="font-weight: bold;">P.S. You are beautiful.</span><br /><span style="font-weight: bold;">P.P.S. Next year you'll have to share the spotlight.</span></span>Heatherhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13093962932172006220noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8406919349904887846.post-79793049797336838352010-12-24T08:45:00.000-08:002010-12-24T11:14:40.330-08:00Christmas Traditions<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_XTzX7NUBjh0/TRTtZ-hiJVI/AAAAAAAAHjU/6RBLFw5wLo0/s1600/img008-2.jpg"><img style="display: block; margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 232px;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_XTzX7NUBjh0/TRTtZ-hiJVI/AAAAAAAAHjU/6RBLFw5wLo0/s320/img008-2.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5554325270990824786" border="0" /></a><span style="font-size:180%;"><br /><span style="color: rgb(0, 102, 0);">It's Christmas Eve, 2010. </span></span>Just about an hour ago I woke up, picked up my phone, and checked a couple new emails. One from my mom has me thinking about Christmas traditions, and how much they mean to me...<br /><br />"Festival of Nine Lessons and Carols is on." was all the email said.<br /><span style="font-size:130%;"><br /><span style="color: rgb(153, 0, 0);">I know exactly what that is, </span></span>of course. <a href="http://americanpublicmedia.publicradio.org/programs/festival/features/nash.shtml">The Festival of Nine Lessons and Carols</a> has been on the radio for decades, every Christmas Eve, broadcast live from Cambridge, England. And my family has tuned into it for almost as many Christmas Eves as it's been on.<br /><br />Not like we sit around the radio with perked up ears, don't get me wrong, but it was always a part of my Christmas growing up. Always there, in the background.<br /><br />Something about holidays solicits families to create and carry on traditions. And you know, I really like this about holidays. Many of my best memories in life come from the traditions we celebrate.<br /><br />For the most part. There was <span style="font-size:130%;"><span style="color: rgb(153, 0, 0);">one other Christmas Eve tradition</span></span> that wasn't my favorite. Growing up, for whatever reason, my mother always made borscht for Christmas Eve dinner. Borscht is a Russian soup made from beets, and thus it's dark red like blood with a little purplish hue. I love you mom, and I'm sure your borscht was wonderful as far as borscht goes, my sister and dad never had any complaints. It does not appeal to my palate, I'm sorry to say. I am admittedly a picky eater. It's just that, to me, beets taste like dirt and minerals. So, yum, dirt soup. Every Christmas Eve. I typically went to bed on Christmas Eve with an empty stomach.<br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_XTzX7NUBjh0/TRTtZaYvBfI/AAAAAAAAHjE/o8Ag6xYh6Iw/s1600/borscht.jpg"><img style="display: block; margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 265px;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_XTzX7NUBjh0/TRTtZaYvBfI/AAAAAAAAHjE/o8Ag6xYh6Iw/s320/borscht.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5554325261290243570" border="0" /></a><br /><br />And we're not Russian. <span style="font-size:130%;"><span style="color: rgb(0, 102, 0);">Just sayin'.</span></span><br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_XTzX7NUBjh0/TRTtZIVVHUI/AAAAAAAAHi8/iSUcUjS7H8o/s1600/61CLu1iEK7L._SL500_AA300_.jpg"><img style="display: block; margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 300px; height: 300px;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_XTzX7NUBjh0/TRTtZIVVHUI/AAAAAAAAHi8/iSUcUjS7H8o/s320/61CLu1iEK7L._SL500_AA300_.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5554325256444124482" border="0" /></a>Other Christmastime traditions include listening to my parents amazing Christmas music collection for weeks each year. Justin recently <span style="font-size:130%;"><span style="color: rgb(0, 102, 0);">called me a "music snob"</span></span>, and he's probably right. But I just can't tolerate that pop music Christmas crap they have on the radios. My parent's collection includes <a href="http://www.amazon.com/Sing-We-Now-Christmas-Revels/dp/B0000002B7/ref=sr_1_6?ie=UTF8&qid=1293209845&sr=8-6">The Christmas Revels</a>, <a href="http://www.amazon.com/Mistletoe-Wine-Seasonal-Collection/dp/B0000AM6O4/ref=sr_1_3?s=music&ie=UTF8&qid=1293209905&sr=1-3">Mediaeval Baebes</a>, and, true to our Lutheran heritage, a little <a href="http://www.amazon.com/Now-Christmas-Again-Garrison-Keillor/dp/B000002SL2/ref=sr_1_1?ie=UTF8&s=music&qid=1293210014&sr=1-1">Garrison Keillor</a>. Those are just a few of my favorite artists out of their vast collection of Christmas CDs. These days, it's not Christmastime unless I hear me a little bit o' the Revels. The best part is that this music isn't about gifts & Santa & getting things - the Revels sing songs from the old world. Songs about Christ and history. Can you see why I find it superior? <span style="font-size:130%;"><span style="color: rgb(153, 0, 0);">Yes, Virginia, I am a snob.</span></span><br /><br />When Bea & I were kids, as soon as the tree went up we'd start checking our little personal ornaments that opened when you squeezed them. <span style="font-size:130%;"><span style="color: rgb(0, 102, 0);">A little elf </span></span>was known to frequent our house and leave Hershey Kisses in our ornaments each day. This year, my mom picked up a few box ornaments for her grandchildren. Now the elf can come back for them.<br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_XTzX7NUBjh0/TRTtZaffoUI/AAAAAAAAHjM/MHt5Ps-ImlE/s1600/150860_476115904716_501274716_5542268_1511028_n.jpg"><img style="display: block; margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 240px; height: 320px;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_XTzX7NUBjh0/TRTtZaffoUI/AAAAAAAAHjM/MHt5Ps-ImlE/s320/150860_476115904716_501274716_5542268_1511028_n.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5554325261318594882" border="0" /></a><br />When I moved out of my parent's home as an adult, I missed the cookie baking & decorating we'd do each year, so I proposed a baking party. This year was our (5th?) year of doing the annual <span style="font-size:130%;"><span style="color: rgb(0, 102, 0);">"Women of the Clan Bake & Take"</span></span>, as my mom has dubbed it. My poor mother usually ends up hosting and thus is left with the mess, but it is a good time, nonetheless. These days, the grandchildren are involved, and that brings new joy to have little ones experiencing this tradition.<br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_XTzX7NUBjh0/TRTvhBVu2iI/AAAAAAAAHjk/QLN-b7p7s5o/s1600/babyjesus.jpg"><img style="display: block; margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 238px; height: 320px;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_XTzX7NUBjh0/TRTvhBVu2iI/AAAAAAAAHjk/QLN-b7p7s5o/s320/babyjesus.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5554327591028972066" border="0" /></a><br /><br />One year - after my parents got sick of waking up at 5am with overly excited children, opening gifts, and then making it to a church service a few hours later all dressed up - we decided to start attending the <span style="font-size:130%;"><span style="color: rgb(153, 0, 0);">Christmas Eve candlelight service</span></span> at church. It was a much more peaceful & relaxed way to attend a church service for Christmas, and now to this day I still look forward to that service after dark. Tonight in church as we sing songs like "Silent Night" I will hold Eisley close and thank God for our baby savior born centuries ago and who still is a light in the world.<br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_XTzX7NUBjh0/TRTtZCtyYXI/AAAAAAAAHi0/pWTeT11zrNg/s1600/400px-Sinterklaas_2007.jpg"><img style="display: block; margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 214px; height: 320px;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_XTzX7NUBjh0/TRTtZCtyYXI/AAAAAAAAHi0/pWTeT11zrNg/s320/400px-Sinterklaas_2007.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5554325254936093042" border="0" /></a><br />Then there's the big fat guy, too. <span style="font-size:130%;"><span style="color: rgb(153, 0, 0);">St. Nicholas</span></span>, who brings toys & candy for the children. Now that we have children of our own experiencing this, a few family differences have been brought up. In my family, Santa always left our gifts unwrapped, in a well placed pile under the tree; displayed so that when we ran out on Christmas morning it was joy overload - our eyes taking it all in at once. In my husband's family, he remembers Santa delivered wrapped gifts. {He also learned something new this year, "Stockings are from Santa???" That's what happens when you're the youngest of four kids.} While I can see the benefits to both, I don't think Santa is up to wrapping <a href="http://www.amazon.com/gp/product/images/B000IXOYI8/ref=dp_image_0?ie=UTF8&n=3375251&s=sporting-goods">Eisley's gift this year</a>, so we'll probably continue in the tradition of sensory overload.<br /><br />Which leads me to deeper understanding of my mother. I was always a little frustrated with her when I was a kid, that she would insist that we wake her up before going to see what was left under the tree for us. As a kid, I didn't get it. <span style="font-size:130%;"><span style="color: rgb(0, 102, 0);">As a mom, I totally do.</span></span> As the matriarch of the family, you spend weeks baking, composing Christmas cards, shopping, wrapping, cooking, decorating - etc. One thing that makes up for all the hard work is seeing your children's eyes light up on Christmas morning, seeing what Santa left for them. Kids, you owe your mom.<br /><br />Finally, one tradition might have been started last year, when we made<a href="http://heatherispreggers.blogspot.com/2009/12/merry-christmas-from-my-family-to-yours.html"> a little music video set to Bob Dylan's "Must Be Santa"</a>. Plans for shooting a quick video tomorrow at my parent's house is in the works... we'll see if it comes to fruition.<br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_XTzX7NUBjh0/TRTunHnviHI/AAAAAAAAHjc/wOHpxIO73Tw/s1600/150221_455576314716_501274716_5259871_809668_n.jpg"><img style="display: block; margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 240px; height: 320px;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_XTzX7NUBjh0/TRTunHnviHI/AAAAAAAAHjc/wOHpxIO73Tw/s320/150221_455576314716_501274716_5259871_809668_n.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5554326596282714226" border="0" /></a><br />This is Eisley's first year of comprehending {at least a little bit} <span style="font-size:130%;"><span style="color: rgb(153, 0, 0);">the joys of the Christmas season</span></span>. And so for the first time in years, Christmas is as exciting to me as it was when I was a child. She doesn't understand the significance of the "baby Jesus" in her nativity set yet, but she can point him out when asked to. She doesn't know why suddenly this month she sees candy canes all over, but she knows they're tasty. She's not quite sure why we decided to put a big tree in the living room, but she has fun "rearranging" the ornaments.<br /><br />She doesn't know what all these details {the music, the church service, the baking of cookies} are quite about yet, but someday she will know these tradition's significance. That she experiences them, each year, <span style="font-size:130%;"><span style="color: rgb(153, 0, 0);">with the people who love her most.</span></span><br /><blockquote style="color: rgb(0, 51, 0);font-family:lucida grande;"><span style="font-size:130%;"><br />"What an enormous magnifier is tradition! How a thing grows in the human memory and in the human imagination, when love, worship, and all that lies in the human heart, is there to encourage it." ~ Thomas Carlyle</span></blockquote>Heatherhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13093962932172006220noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8406919349904887846.post-78129231807014034892010-12-01T17:21:00.000-08:002010-12-01T19:26:05.839-08:00Yoooooooooooooo.....<div style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size:180%;"><span style="color: rgb(51, 153, 153);">...Gabba Gabba!</span></span><br /><br /><span style="color: rgb(51, 153, 153);">Yes, we met the </span><a style="color: rgb(51, 153, 153);" href="http://www.yogabbagabbalive.com/about">Gabba Gang</a><span style="color: rgb(51, 153, 153);">! And sadly this is my only decent picture {why, why, why did I not take my </span><span style="font-style: italic; color: rgb(51, 153, 153);">real </span><span style="color: rgb(51, 153, 153);">camera that night?} since it was part of the VIP party package we paid a "little" extra for. Are you thinking what I'm thinking? "Where the heck is my 7 month pregnant belly?" Violet is camera shy. </span><br /><a style="color: rgb(51, 153, 153);" onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_XTzX7NUBjh0/TPb4waV4lLI/AAAAAAAAHh0/mU2Ka-GqPjk/s1600/yogabbagabba.jpg"><img style="display: block; margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 267px;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_XTzX7NUBjh0/TPb4waV4lLI/AAAAAAAAHh0/mU2Ka-GqPjk/s400/yogabbagabba.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5545893501741864114" border="0" /></a><span style="color: rgb(51, 153, 153);">{For those of you who are not aware, </span><a style="color: rgb(51, 153, 153);" href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Yo_Gabba_Gabba%21">Yo Gabba Gabba</a><span style="color: rgb(51, 153, 153);"> is "the cool" kids show. The one parents don't hate or get overly annoyed with - ahem, Elmo & Dora, I'm talking to </span><span style="font-style: italic; color: rgb(51, 153, 153);">you</span><span style="color: rgb(51, 153, 153);">. It's hip, it's full of celebrity guests like Jack Black & bands like The Killers, and it's fresh material.}</span><br /><br /><span style="color: rgb(51, 153, 153);">The Pie & Daddy wearing </span><a style="color: rgb(51, 153, 153);" href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Lance_Robertson">DJ Lance Rock</a><span style="color: rgb(51, 153, 153);"> glasses. </span><br /><a style="color: rgb(51, 153, 153);" onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_XTzX7NUBjh0/TPb4wD6PIxI/AAAAAAAAHhs/Ld4HQMFD2iE/s1600/2010-11-07%2B17.17.12.jpg"><img style="display: block; margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 300px; height: 400px;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_XTzX7NUBjh0/TPb4wD6PIxI/AAAAAAAAHhs/Ld4HQMFD2iE/s400/2010-11-07%2B17.17.12.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5545893495720321810" border="0" /></a><span style="color: rgb(51, 153, 153);">Maybe it made my day more than it made Pie's? I think she was a little shocked and in awe of the experience. The show was a lot for a 2 year old pie to take in. </span><br /><a style="color: rgb(51, 153, 153);" onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_XTzX7NUBjh0/TPb4vvaNYdI/AAAAAAAAHhk/ADCpwbXxlL0/s1600/2010-11-07%2B18.00.55.jpg"><img style="display: block; margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 301px;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_XTzX7NUBjh0/TPb4vvaNYdI/AAAAAAAAHhk/ADCpwbXxlL0/s400/2010-11-07%2B18.00.55.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5545893490217279954" border="0" /></a><span style="color: rgb(51, 153, 153);">But it was a great show. A giant screen, all the characters, confetti guns, thousands of balloons {Pie's favorite} released from above, and bubble machines. It was the ultimate rave for a toddler. </span><br /><a style="color: rgb(51, 153, 153);" onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_XTzX7NUBjh0/TPb4vRXmJJI/AAAAAAAAHhc/4leY9plp_cU/s1600/2010-11-07%2B18.06.57.jpg"><img style="display: block; margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 300px;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_XTzX7NUBjh0/TPb4vRXmJJI/AAAAAAAAHhc/4leY9plp_cU/s400/2010-11-07%2B18.06.57.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5545893482153256082" border="0" /></a><span style="color: rgb(51, 153, 153);">The crowd went wild when the Gabba Gang appeared. </span><br /><a style="color: rgb(51, 153, 153);" onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_XTzX7NUBjh0/TPb4vGlTjaI/AAAAAAAAHhU/OTPwqtXI0BI/s1600/2010-11-07%2B18.08.29.jpg"><img style="display: block; margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 300px;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_XTzX7NUBjh0/TPb4vGlTjaI/AAAAAAAAHhU/OTPwqtXI0BI/s400/2010-11-07%2B18.08.29.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5545893479257968034" border="0" /></a><span style="color: rgb(51, 153, 153);">And there they were, the friends we've been watching on TV since Pie was 10 months old, now right in front of us. </span><br /><a style="color: rgb(51, 153, 153);" onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_XTzX7NUBjh0/TPb4iAkAGPI/AAAAAAAAHhM/R_xdlmTAcmU/s1600/2010-11-07%2B18.18.26.jpg"><img style="display: block; margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 300px;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_XTzX7NUBjh0/TPb4iAkAGPI/AAAAAAAAHhM/R_xdlmTAcmU/s400/2010-11-07%2B18.18.26.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5545893254303586546" border="0" /></a><span style="color: rgb(51, 153, 153);">Eisley sang along to the songs, danced like...well, like she was drunk, and partied harder than a frat boy. </span><br /><a style="color: rgb(51, 153, 153);" onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_XTzX7NUBjh0/TPb4hvM2gXI/AAAAAAAAHhE/YkE-AXyDzaw/s1600/2010-11-07%2B18.24.06.jpg"><img style="display: block; margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 300px;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_XTzX7NUBjh0/TPb4hvM2gXI/AAAAAAAAHhE/YkE-AXyDzaw/s400/2010-11-07%2B18.24.06.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5545893249643086194" border="0" /></a><span style="color: rgb(51, 153, 153);">And I mostly watched her the entire time. The joy on her face was more important to me. </span><br /><a style="color: rgb(51, 153, 153);" onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_XTzX7NUBjh0/TPb4hinIh4I/AAAAAAAAHg8/kipiRC2vR4M/s1600/2010-11-07%2B18.29.01.jpg"><img style="display: block; margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 300px;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_XTzX7NUBjh0/TPb4hinIh4I/AAAAAAAAHg8/kipiRC2vR4M/s400/2010-11-07%2B18.29.01.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5545893246263658370" border="0" /></a><span style="color: rgb(51, 153, 153);">Although she did take a couple breaks to rest from the excitement during the show. </span><br /><a style="color: rgb(51, 153, 153);" onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_XTzX7NUBjh0/TPb4hTZj0OI/AAAAAAAAHg0/9LgaZ9YZQgo/s1600/2010-11-07%2B19.10.11.psd.jpg"><img style="display: block; margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 300px;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_XTzX7NUBjh0/TPb4hTZj0OI/AAAAAAAAHg0/9LgaZ9YZQgo/s400/2010-11-07%2B19.10.11.psd.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5545893242180194530" border="0" /></a><span style="color: rgb(51, 153, 153);">Here's a shot of "There's a Party In My Tummy!", in which the Gabba Gang cleverly entices children to eat their vegetables because the carrots & beans cry and are sad when they're not "invited to the party in your tummy." Clever, clever... and a little bit of a guilt trip.</span><br /><a style="color: rgb(51, 153, 153);" onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_XTzX7NUBjh0/TPb4hOPMrwI/AAAAAAAAHgs/k8T_zTEIL_M/s1600/2010-11-07%2B19.18.54.jpg"><img style="display: block; margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 300px;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_XTzX7NUBjh0/TPb4hOPMrwI/AAAAAAAAHgs/k8T_zTEIL_M/s400/2010-11-07%2B19.18.54.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5545893240794558210" border="0" /></a><span style="color: rgb(51, 153, 153);">Having VIP tickets, after the show we were invited into the lounge to meet the Gabba Gang in person!</span><br /><br /><span style="color: rgb(51, 153, 153);">Here we are with the guest celebrity, Leslie Hall! You know, LESLIE! Of the </span><a style="color: rgb(51, 153, 153);" href="http://www.lesliehall.com/gemsweater.html">gem sweater fame</a><span style="color: rgb(51, 153, 153);">? I kid you not, I'm a fan of this lady. Above all other humor, I most enjoy and appreciate those who are not afraid to poke fun at themselves, and not afraid to be ridiculous. Leslie Hall is a lady, only my sister's age, who brings humor to the world by dressing in outrageous outfits, collecting dated gem sweaters, and sporting a frumpy hairstyle. I love her. {She said I smelled good, and seemed charmed when I told her I was a fan and wanted a picture.}</span><br /><a style="color: rgb(51, 153, 153);" onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_XTzX7NUBjh0/TPb3euxRpuI/AAAAAAAAHgk/OMLpWlxxpMM/s1600/2010-11-07%2B19.58.41.jpg"><img style="display: block; margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 300px;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_XTzX7NUBjh0/TPb3euxRpuI/AAAAAAAAHgk/OMLpWlxxpMM/s400/2010-11-07%2B19.58.41.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5545892098476189410" border="0" /></a><span style="color: rgb(51, 153, 153);">Anyway. Back to the point.</span><br /><span style="color: rgb(51, 153, 153);">Pie met Plex (the "Magic Robot") first.</span><br /><a style="color: rgb(51, 153, 153);" onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_XTzX7NUBjh0/TPb3eOhpTzI/AAAAAAAAHgc/hK3CK2X5e_0/s1600/2010-11-07%2B20.10.52.jpg"><img style="display: block; margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 300px;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_XTzX7NUBjh0/TPb3eOhpTzI/AAAAAAAAHgc/hK3CK2X5e_0/s400/2010-11-07%2B20.10.52.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5545892089820696370" border="0" /></a><span style="color: rgb(51, 153, 153);">...and Muno ("He's tall & friendly")</span><br /><a style="color: rgb(51, 153, 153);" onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_XTzX7NUBjh0/TPb3d0KUPyI/AAAAAAAAHgU/bZeJ-xTodYI/s1600/2010-11-07%2B20.11.52.jpg"><img style="display: block; margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 300px;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_XTzX7NUBjh0/TPb3d0KUPyI/AAAAAAAAHgU/bZeJ-xTodYI/s400/2010-11-07%2B20.11.52.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5545892082743525154" border="0" /></a><span style="color: rgb(51, 153, 153);">THERE - that's the face that made it all worth it. </span><br /><a style="color: rgb(51, 153, 153);" onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhRX6CyExOyiPjb9kMT1bPrGHG_cwgkdGIJulV2dey5MYL1xlk4-rMqSxhW25_rCQ7jN8Zt8fLLpyVoziCc-uynT23DpCdLPpiBqINB63vYC29pLTEX7dC3GQKNHO5vXbxest-hDEOe-_c/s1600/76314_456871734716_501274716_5284370_1149507_n.jpg"><img style="display: block; margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 300px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhRX6CyExOyiPjb9kMT1bPrGHG_cwgkdGIJulV2dey5MYL1xlk4-rMqSxhW25_rCQ7jN8Zt8fLLpyVoziCc-uynT23DpCdLPpiBqINB63vYC29pLTEX7dC3GQKNHO5vXbxest-hDEOe-_c/s400/76314_456871734716_501274716_5284370_1149507_n.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5545892079079048674" border="0" /></a><span style="color: rgb(51, 153, 153);">Lastly, we met DJ Lance Rock. He is really nice in person, called Pie a sweetheart and kissed her on the cheek after this photo. She fainted. Just kidding. {Sigh... my cell phone actually takes really good pictures. Just the lighting in there was horrible.}</span><br /><a style="color: rgb(51, 153, 153);" onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi_7ZPTpRKwNP5BtU4gdyDymHoXKPuGz0Hy_ZrzGBSyFifFcJZG1GCrTDs1Dzcu04p1QkmR0ET4G11EYl7WGU6GjD2MLV73iqx5bj4Hfju12Dpe9aRSR2TfkpByNN9Fh2m8MPasbpLkFVY/s1600/76074_456891714716_501274716_5284925_6632993_n.jpg"><img style="display: block; margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 300px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi_7ZPTpRKwNP5BtU4gdyDymHoXKPuGz0Hy_ZrzGBSyFifFcJZG1GCrTDs1Dzcu04p1QkmR0ET4G11EYl7WGU6GjD2MLV73iqx5bj4Hfju12Dpe9aRSR2TfkpByNN9Fh2m8MPasbpLkFVY/s400/76074_456891714716_501274716_5284925_6632993_n.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5545892073874128322" border="0" /></a><span style="font-size:180%;"><br /><span style="color: rgb(51, 153, 153);">Razzle Dazzle!</span></span><br /><span style="color: rgb(51, 153, 153);">{That's what the Gabba Gang would say.}</span><br /></div>Heatherhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13093962932172006220noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8406919349904887846.post-3253735193780020012010-11-08T17:37:00.000-08:002010-11-08T22:14:02.617-08:00Halloween 2010<div style="text-align: center; color: rgb(204, 102, 0);"><span style="font-size:130%;"><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_XTzX7NUBjh0/TNjeqXnIyRI/AAAAAAAAHf0/Wij8pmIVi-A/s1600/SDC12449.JPG"><img style="display: block; margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 300px;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_XTzX7NUBjh0/TNjeqXnIyRI/AAAAAAAAHf0/Wij8pmIVi-A/s400/SDC12449.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5537420561326065938" border="0" /></a></span><span style="font-size:130%;">We had a lovely Halloween this year. I am excited to share Eisley's {creative? weird?} costume with you.<br /><br />This was her third Halloween. <a href="http://heatherispreggers.blogspot.com/2008/10/halloween-lullabies.html">In 2008, for her first, newborn Halloween she was a pig. </a><br />Last year, <a href="http://heatherispreggers.blogspot.com/2009/10/halloween-2009.html">Halloween 2009 she was Alice, of the Wonderland persuasion</a>.<br /><br />This year I decided to make her costume to represent her nickname: <span style="font-weight: bold;">Piggy Pie</span>.<br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_XTzX7NUBjh0/TNjeqA1aHdI/AAAAAAAAHfs/R8RWHBSEWHA/s1600/2010-10-29%2B17.18.58.jpg"><img style="display: block; margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 300px;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_XTzX7NUBjh0/TNjeqA1aHdI/AAAAAAAAHfs/R8RWHBSEWHA/s400/2010-10-29%2B17.18.58.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5537420555211906514" border="0" /></a></span><span style="font-size:130%;">She wore a pig hat & a pie that I made out of felt with my trusty sewing machine. Most people didn't "get" it, but we had fun telling those who asked. Plus it was fun to see her as something other than the trashy witch & cartoon characters all the other kids dress as. This was probably the last year I will get to decide for her...<br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhpZByYAUTvf2TUPk8cNooKguI7MsZK57JB1Iujh7p4s91ysx-xWn1b_d0gzpCWo8gg1QeUZAK2HT2ovWNGJgxu6589TAfw4zH5jbZCQeCift0ZeZ6gNjg7EUe-64WI-FSWWiLX5VVoYjo/s1600/SDC12448.JPG"><img style="display: block; margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 300px; height: 400px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhpZByYAUTvf2TUPk8cNooKguI7MsZK57JB1Iujh7p4s91ysx-xWn1b_d0gzpCWo8gg1QeUZAK2HT2ovWNGJgxu6589TAfw4zH5jbZCQeCift0ZeZ6gNjg7EUe-64WI-FSWWiLX5VVoYjo/s400/SDC12448.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5537420554704816546" border="0" /></a></span><span style="font-size:130%;">I would also like to share <a href="http://allrecipes.com/Recipe/Spiced-Pumpkin-Seeds/Detail.aspx">this recipe for pumpkin seeds</a>. We carved 4 pumpkins & ended up with 4 cups of seeds. They did not last long... {and tip: I tripled the seasoning sauce but left the amount of seeds the same, as many other reviewers advised. Yum!}<br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_XTzX7NUBjh0/TNivg8CgN8I/AAAAAAAAHfc/vbJNotkn0fs/s1600/SDC12454.JPG"><img style="display: block; margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 300px;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_XTzX7NUBjh0/TNivg8CgN8I/AAAAAAAAHfc/vbJNotkn0fs/s400/SDC12454.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5537368722259326914" border="0" /></a></span><span style="font-size:130%;">I love decorating for Halloween but feel like I didn't get enough of it done this year. We did put up lights, though!<br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_XTzX7NUBjh0/TNivgV1C0CI/AAAAAAAAHfU/5ijrQtLbJ9I/s1600/SDC12455.JPG"><img style="display: block; margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 300px;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_XTzX7NUBjh0/TNivgV1C0CI/AAAAAAAAHfU/5ijrQtLbJ9I/s400/SDC12455.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5537368712002326562" border="0" /></a></span><span style="font-size:130%;">And I still had the gall to label myself "Queen of Halloween". Via doormat, no less. Oh, the audacity!<br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_XTzX7NUBjh0/TNivf_xvqGI/AAAAAAAAHfM/HnbXJAsfCjE/s1600/SDC12456.JPG"><img style="display: block; margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 300px;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_XTzX7NUBjh0/TNivf_xvqGI/AAAAAAAAHfM/HnbXJAsfCjE/s400/SDC12456.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5537368706082908258" border="0" /></a></span><span style="font-size:130%;">In a completely half-hearted attempt to spread Halloween cheer while taking The Pie trick or treating, Justin & I sported... ears & a hat. Oh yes, Queen of Halloween, I am.<br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_XTzX7NUBjh0/TNivfVA_MbI/AAAAAAAAHfE/xgu-LgA4Hzk/s1600/SDC12464.JPG"><img style="display: block; margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 300px;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_XTzX7NUBjh0/TNivfVA_MbI/AAAAAAAAHfE/xgu-LgA4Hzk/s400/SDC12464.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5537368694604116402" border="0" /></a></span><span style="font-size:130%;">The Pie, on the other hand, really did exhibit Halloween cheer to the fullest extent by jumping into a pile of freshly raked leaves <span style="font-style: italic;">in full costume</span>. {She <span style="font-style: italic;">always </span>has to be the best at everything. It gets old, the little show-off.}<br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_XTzX7NUBjh0/TNiver5buPI/AAAAAAAAHe8/HZEXbpG6Cmk/s1600/SDC12466.JPG"><img style="display: block; margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 300px; height: 400px;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_XTzX7NUBjh0/TNiver5buPI/AAAAAAAAHe8/HZEXbpG6Cmk/s400/SDC12466.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5537368683566577906" border="0" /></a></span><span style="font-size:130%;">We went trick or treating around our neighborhood with The Cousins & Gramma Jan. With the Victorians & bungalows in our old Denver neighborhood, it really made for quite the picturesque trick or treat outing. {And I'll be honest here, I was totally loving having a chance to get to walk up to everyone's door and peek in their house without having the cops called on me for being a Peeping Tom. Just one more reason October 31st is one of the best days of the year...}<br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_XTzX7NUBjh0/TNisCdadYGI/AAAAAAAAHe0/6e-j0ytYMas/s1600/SDC12470.JPG"><img style="display: block; margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 300px; height: 400px;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_XTzX7NUBjh0/TNisCdadYGI/AAAAAAAAHe0/6e-j0ytYMas/s400/SDC12470.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5537364900107346018" border="0" /></a></span><span style="font-size:130%;">Strange lady who followed us the entire night, taking pictures:<br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_XTzX7NUBjh0/TNisB8Wr82I/AAAAAAAAHes/m3cAgyV_ZfI/s1600/SDC12474.JPG"><img style="display: block; margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 300px;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_XTzX7NUBjh0/TNisB8Wr82I/AAAAAAAAHes/m3cAgyV_ZfI/s400/SDC12474.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5537364891233153890" border="0" /></a></span><span style="font-size:130%;">Just kidding, Grandma, glad you came along :-)<br />As shown below, The Pie's cousin, Indy, is usually a blur of mysterious fairy dust. Sometimes you can get a clear view of her figure from the corner of your eye...<br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_XTzX7NUBjh0/TNisAnM5WUI/AAAAAAAAHek/cEVPJ8ua2TA/s1600/SDC12475.JPG"><img style="display: block; margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 300px; height: 400px;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_XTzX7NUBjh0/TNisAnM5WUI/AAAAAAAAHek/cEVPJ8ua2TA/s400/SDC12475.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5537364868375075138" border="0" /></a></span><span style="font-size:130%;">When the Piggy Pie had enough {candy in her bag, that is} we headed back to the house.<br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_XTzX7NUBjh0/TNisABzKnoI/AAAAAAAAHec/jw30mqrM9S0/s1600/SDC12478.JPG"><img style="display: block; margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 300px;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_XTzX7NUBjh0/TNisABzKnoI/AAAAAAAAHec/jw30mqrM9S0/s400/SDC12478.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5537364858335043202" border="0" /></a></span><span style="font-size:130%;">Where Pappa and Grandma were waiting {for the dinner, that is, that we had promised them for watching our house when the trick or treaters came soliciting candy. We made <a href="http://allrecipes.com/Recipe/Stuffed-Pork-Chops-III/Detail.aspx">this</a>, <a href="http://allrecipes.com/Recipe/Acorn-Squash/Detail.aspx">this</a>, and drank Blue Moon's Pumpkin Ale. Yum.}<br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_XTzX7NUBjh0/TNir_q9KlII/AAAAAAAAHeU/AsT_ELduW0Y/s1600/SDC12480.JPG"><img style="display: block; margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 300px; height: 400px;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_XTzX7NUBjh0/TNir_q9KlII/AAAAAAAAHeU/AsT_ELduW0Y/s400/SDC12480.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5537364852202968194" border="0" /></a></span><span style="font-size:130%;">It was a lovely Halloween.<br /></span></div>Heatherhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13093962932172006220noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8406919349904887846.post-17528728637356667502010-10-19T10:12:00.000-07:002010-10-19T10:25:31.367-07:00Little Sister Duties<div style="text-align: center;"><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_XTzX7NUBjh0/TL3SAtgCbZI/AAAAAAAAHdc/uIL4p8LfHr0/s1600/SDC12421.JPG"><img style="display: block; margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 248px; height: 352px;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_XTzX7NUBjh0/TL3SAtgCbZI/AAAAAAAAHdc/uIL4p8LfHr0/s400/SDC12421.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5529806827136642450" border="0" /></a><span style="color: rgb(51, 153, 153);font-size:130%;" >The Pie says she can't wait any longer for a playmate, but V-Pie isn't due for another 16 weeks. Luckily, Bella has agreed to "chip in" and take on some of the little sister duties until then.</span><br /><span style="color: rgb(51, 153, 153);font-size:130%;" ><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_XTzX7NUBjh0/TL3SACLgIgI/AAAAAAAAHdU/dzgZEsSYg8U/s1600/SDC12423.JPG"><img style="display: block; margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 300px; height: 400px;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_XTzX7NUBjh0/TL3SACLgIgI/AAAAAAAAHdU/dzgZEsSYg8U/s400/SDC12423.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5529806815507784194" border="0" /></a></span><span style="color: rgb(51, 153, 153);font-size:130%;" >As you can see, The Pie has gladly accepted her offer.</span><br /><span style="color: rgb(51, 153, 153);font-size:130%;" ><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_XTzX7NUBjh0/TL3R_2Eh5bI/AAAAAAAAHdM/O6D8xDyotFs/s1600/SDC12425.JPG"><img style="display: block; margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 300px; height: 400px;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_XTzX7NUBjh0/TL3R_2Eh5bI/AAAAAAAAHdM/O6D8xDyotFs/s400/SDC12425.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5529806812257314226" border="0" /></a></span><span style="color: rgb(51, 153, 153);font-size:130%;" >Because sometimes dolls just aren't enough.</span><br /><br />{<span style="font-style: italic;">Yes, that is Bella and she is neither a rat nor a Chihuahua, </span><br /><span style="font-style: italic;">she is a purebred Italian Greyhound, fyi.</span>}<br /></div>Heatherhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13093962932172006220noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8406919349904887846.post-89495441593323376642010-10-18T10:39:00.000-07:002010-10-18T10:58:07.783-07:00{Notes on The Violet}<div style="text-align: center; color: rgb(102, 51, 102);"><span style="font-size:130%;"><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_XTzX7NUBjh0/TLyG408LJhI/AAAAAAAAHdE/7-zgMjOPJMM/s1600/violetfairystory.jpg"><img style="display: block; margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 332px; height: 400px;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_XTzX7NUBjh0/TLyG408LJhI/AAAAAAAAHdE/7-zgMjOPJMM/s400/violetfairystory.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5529442753345955346" border="0" /></a></span><span style="font-size:130%;">When I found out I was pregnant I already knew what my child's name would be. It just so happened that I'm having a little girl {yay!} and so she will be named Violet.<br /><br />Violet Brown was my great-grandmother, my mother's father's mother. I have no picture of her unfortunately, but I so like the idea of using family names. {Eisley shares her great-grandmother's middle name, and if I had a boy, he would be named after a family surname - Paxton.}<br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_XTzX7NUBjh0/TLyG4nWpFtI/AAAAAAAAHc8/JAeKPY94xvU/s1600/screen_2010-09-12+00.03.33.jpg"><img style="display: block; margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 253px;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_XTzX7NUBjh0/TLyG4nWpFtI/AAAAAAAAHc8/JAeKPY94xvU/s400/screen_2010-09-12+00.03.33.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5529442749698873042" border="0" /></a></span><span style="font-size:130%;">As it turns out, and I didn't know this when I picked the name - I swear, Violet is due in February which just so happens to have the violet as a birth flower! What's more - the birth stone for February is the amethyst - a violet colored gem. I had no idea, but I'm so glad it suits. Now she just better not be born early in January because that will ruin everything... ;-)<br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_XTzX7NUBjh0/TLyG4VVlIGI/AAAAAAAAHc0/kw7fufkNDiQ/s1600/40348F.jpg"><img style="display: block; margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 264px; height: 400px;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_XTzX7NUBjh0/TLyG4VVlIGI/AAAAAAAAHc0/kw7fufkNDiQ/s400/40348F.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5529442744862580834" border="0" /></a></span><span style="font-size:130%;">And when you see antique postcards with Valentine's Day themes - a February holiday, no less - they quite often feature violets on them. Which is perfect. I'm happy to call my little V-Pie "A Token of Love"... hehe...<br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_XTzX7NUBjh0/TLyG4P9mcxI/AAAAAAAAHcs/thEhxIdnwso/s1600/vilets.jpg"><img style="display: block; margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 259px;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_XTzX7NUBjh0/TLyG4P9mcxI/AAAAAAAAHcs/thEhxIdnwso/s400/vilets.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5529442743419826962" border="0" /></a></span><span style="font-size:130%;">Just as Violet is an old fashioned name, they were very popular on postcards back in the day, and I might just have to figure out a way to incorporate one of these in her birth announcement. Again, it suits, because everyone knows how much I love old things.<br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_XTzX7NUBjh0/TLyG3zJyexI/AAAAAAAAHck/pLk4CHl8-6g/s1600/screen_2010-09-12+00.11.10.jpg"><img style="display: block; margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 248px;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_XTzX7NUBjh0/TLyG3zJyexI/AAAAAAAAHck/pLk4CHl8-6g/s400/screen_2010-09-12+00.11.10.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5529442735686318866" border="0" /></a></span><span style="font-size:130%;">But right now Violet is still a squirmy thing in my stomach, I only have seen fuzzy black & white images of her. She has kicked me a few times, Eisley has kicked her a few times...<br /><br />She is as long as an ear of corn, and I just hit 24 weeks, which means if she was born now she'd have a 50% chance of surviving. It's neat to hit that "point of viability" but, still, February baby! February!<br /></span></div>Heatherhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13093962932172006220noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8406919349904887846.post-34582492920596258792010-10-07T10:22:00.000-07:002010-10-07T11:09:14.651-07:00The Creative & Amazing Photographer<span style="font-weight: bold;font-size:180%;" ><span style="color: rgb(102, 102, 102);">On Tuesday</span></span> we went with Great Grandma Sander & the three cousins from Justin's side of the family to get portraits for GG Sander's Christmas cards.<br /><br />We were fortunate to have that sort of creative, artistic photographer for our session. He directed the kids so wonderfully, and as you can see {below} we got some really amazing photographs. I want to give you a recap of how professional and creative he was in directing his subjects - I only hope I can recreate the magic of the session just a little bit. <span style="color: rgb(102, 102, 102);font-size:130%;" >Here are some of the brilliant directions he gave as he was working his magic:</span><span style="color: rgb(102, 102, 102);font-size:130%;" ><br /><br /></span><div style="text-align: center; color: rgb(102, 102, 102);"><span style="font-size:130%;">"Okay, Eisley, give me your <span style="font-style: italic;">best </span>vampire look for this shot -<br />YES! Show me those fangs! Work the fangs!"<br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_XTzX7NUBjh0/TK4C3w7HYEI/AAAAAAAAHa0/Mxs4lM4JzqA/s1600/0031.jpg"><img style="display: block; margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 265px; height: 400px;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_XTzX7NUBjh0/TK4C3w7HYEI/AAAAAAAAHa0/Mxs4lM4JzqA/s400/0031.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5525356949879087170" border="0" /></a></span><span style="font-size:130%;">"Noah, you're drunk at the bar and a beautiful woman just sat down next to you, show me drunk lust - YES! Perfect!"<br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_XTzX7NUBjh0/TK4C3Q-lRPI/AAAAAAAAHas/boM2FfCksmI/s1600/0049.jpg"><img style="display: block; margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 266px; height: 400px;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_XTzX7NUBjh0/TK4C3Q-lRPI/AAAAAAAAHas/boM2FfCksmI/s400/0049.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5525356941303694578" border="0" /></a></span><span style="font-size:130%;">"Eisley, I just informed you your puppy is dead - you're shocked and in disbelief, give me shocked!"<br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_XTzX7NUBjh0/TK4C3Jc3FEI/AAAAAAAAHak/9esNZyULAOA/s1600/0029.jpg"><img style="display: block; margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 268px; height: 400px;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_XTzX7NUBjh0/TK4C3Jc3FEI/AAAAAAAAHak/9esNZyULAOA/s400/0029.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5525356939283207234" border="0" /></a></span><span style="font-size:130%;">"Okay for this group shot, I want to capture the essence of family. Eisley, you just passed gas and you think it's funny. Grandma and Moriah, act repulsed, but Noah, I want to see you pointing the finger at the offender. YES! GOOD!"<br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_XTzX7NUBjh0/TK4CohBToZI/AAAAAAAAHac/KBqz2JE1UeQ/s1600/0059.jpg"><img style="display: block; margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 266px; height: 400px;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_XTzX7NUBjh0/TK4CohBToZI/AAAAAAAAHac/KBqz2JE1UeQ/s400/0059.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5525356687912051090" border="0" /></a></span><span style="font-size:130%;">"Turn around, Eisley, and scowl at Noah for pointing you out.... Noah you're uncomfortable now, show me uncomfortable! Moriah, you're worried!"<br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_XTzX7NUBjh0/TK4Cn5Kpb5I/AAAAAAAAHaU/TMPUt3_fT-8/s1600/0070.jpg"><img style="display: block; margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 357px; height: 400px;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_XTzX7NUBjh0/TK4Cn5Kpb5I/AAAAAAAAHaU/TMPUt3_fT-8/s400/0070.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5525356677213810578" border="0" /></a></span><span style="font-size:130%;">"Eisley, give me disgusted! You're grossed out, you're gagging! Work it! YES! BEAUTIFUL!"<br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_XTzX7NUBjh0/TK4Cm6221JI/AAAAAAAAHaM/z7_LSC7_gok/s1600/0080.jpg"><img style="display: block; margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 286px; height: 400px;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_XTzX7NUBjh0/TK4Cm6221JI/AAAAAAAAHaM/z7_LSC7_gok/s400/0080.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5525356660487804050" border="0" /></a></span><span style="font-size:130%;">"Noah and Moriah, give me sleepy... but, Eisley, show me delighted - what's over there? - show me how great it is, yes! Make us wonder, intrigue us! What's over there and why do your cousins not care? YES! WONDERFUL!"<br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_XTzX7NUBjh0/TK4CmvB_3ZI/AAAAAAAAHaE/3NcEYm0dICo/s1600/0083.jpg"><img style="display: block; margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 343px; height: 400px;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_XTzX7NUBjh0/TK4CmvB_3ZI/AAAAAAAAHaE/3NcEYm0dICo/s400/0083.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5525356657313308050" border="0" /></a></span><span style="font-size:130%;">"Moriah, I want to see sophisticated, thoughtful, good! But Noah and Eisley - you're unsure about what's going on to your left. Yes! Amused yet awkward! That's great! BRILLIANT!"<br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_XTzX7NUBjh0/TK4CmBq4cuI/AAAAAAAAHZ8/PPSSDHTdRzk/s1600/0084.jpg"><img style="display: block; margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 318px;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_XTzX7NUBjh0/TK4CmBq4cuI/AAAAAAAAHZ8/PPSSDHTdRzk/s400/0084.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5525356645136757474" border="0" /></a></span><span style="font-size:130%;"><br />"Eisley look poignantly upwards, yes, you're thinking about God and life and deep thoughts. More deep thoughts, show me more! You're pondering the meaning of life! Moriah! Box your little brother's ears - YES! WORK IT!"<br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_XTzX7NUBjh0/TK4CLERcWFI/AAAAAAAAHZs/YcDSk_D9nRc/s1600/0089.jpg"><img style="display: block; margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 308px;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_XTzX7NUBjh0/TK4CLERcWFI/AAAAAAAAHZs/YcDSk_D9nRc/s400/0089.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5525356181978896466" border="0" /></a></span><span style="font-size:130%;">"Eisley, you're sucking on a lemon! Show me how sour it is! More sour! More sour, it's unbearable."<br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_XTzX7NUBjh0/TK4CK2Fde0I/AAAAAAAAHZk/H1lnGk6W6cU/s1600/0090.jpg"><img style="display: block; margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 305px;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_XTzX7NUBjh0/TK4CK2Fde0I/AAAAAAAAHZk/H1lnGk6W6cU/s400/0090.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5525356178170542914" border="0" /></a></span><span style="font-size:130%;">"Let's get Grandma back in here, Grandma, I want you to watch adoringly as your grandson picks his nose... Eisley, I want to see the 'my puppy just died' face again! PERFECT! Moriah, you're in control of the situation, you're calm amid the chaos - YES! BRILLIANT!"<br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_XTzX7NUBjh0/TK4CKJamcBI/AAAAAAAAHZc/oWAY_DPZFqs/s1600/0092.jpg"><img style="display: block; margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 271px;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_XTzX7NUBjh0/TK4CKJamcBI/AAAAAAAAHZc/oWAY_DPZFqs/s400/0092.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5525356166179614738" border="0" /></a></span><span style="font-size:130%;">As you can see, it was intense, artistic and insightful! We just went in for a Christmas card shot, but what we got was just pure art!<br /><br />Okay I've had my fun... but really, we did get <span style="font-style: italic;">some </span>good ones...<br /></span></div><span style="color: rgb(102, 102, 102);font-size:130%;" ><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_XTzX7NUBjh0/TK4CJ_Th56I/AAAAAAAAHZU/gbOo1NYRS5w/s1600/0003.jpg"><img style="display: block; margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 286px; height: 400px;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_XTzX7NUBjh0/TK4CJ_Th56I/AAAAAAAAHZU/gbOo1NYRS5w/s400/0003.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5525356163465602978" border="0" /></a></span>Heatherhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13093962932172006220noreply@blogger.com5tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8406919349904887846.post-13054191963575876752010-09-21T22:49:00.000-07:002010-09-22T00:39:09.355-07:00Family Outing No. 1 1/2: Black Hawk<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_XTzX7NUBjh0/TJmZa7PugxI/AAAAAAAAHZM/ZMk-0DHqzV0/s1600/SDC12351.JPG"><img style="display: block; margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 300px;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_XTzX7NUBjh0/TJmZa7PugxI/AAAAAAAAHZM/ZMk-0DHqzV0/s400/SDC12351.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5519611506178556690" border="0" /></a><span style="font-size:180%;"><span style="color: rgb(51, 153, 153); font-weight: bold;">Dear Papa Erickson,</span></span><br /><br />A couple weeks ago you recommended going to see Central City & Black Hawk. You told me about how the old mountain mining town had turned into a mini-Vegas with mega hotels and that it was really a sight to see.<br /><br />In fact, you said, "Go up there some afternoon just to look around and get an ice cream." Those were your exact words.<br /><br />So today we did just that, promising ourselves & Eisley an ice cream. We got to see the aspen starting to turn on our way...<br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_XTzX7NUBjh0/TJmZad_JkWI/AAAAAAAAHZE/yXK0J5VHryI/s1600/SDC12356.JPG"><img style="display: block; margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 300px;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_XTzX7NUBjh0/TJmZad_JkWI/AAAAAAAAHZE/yXK0J5VHryI/s400/SDC12356.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5519611498324398434" border="0" /></a>Central City was still quaint and had that Old West feel that so many Colorado mountain towns do, Black Hawk {literally down the street} was another story. Mostly thanks to the new & huge Ameristar hotel. It is a Goliath of a hotel/casino, springing up unnaturally from the Rocky Mountains. 33 stories.<br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_XTzX7NUBjh0/TJmZLTfk-VI/AAAAAAAAHY8/Ss6ZzMs1zDA/s1600/SDC12358.JPG"><img style="display: block; margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 300px; height: 400px;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_XTzX7NUBjh0/TJmZLTfk-VI/AAAAAAAAHY8/Ss6ZzMs1zDA/s400/SDC12358.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5519611237809584466" border="0" /></a>We parked in the 10 story parking garage {upon exiting the car, I could smell the $5.99 prime rib every hotel advertises on billboards for miles before town} and wandered the hotel, Eisley was not allowed on the gaming floor. It was a grand hotel. We went to the 32nd floor to look out a window.<br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_XTzX7NUBjh0/TJmZLAlvowI/AAAAAAAAHY0/l4Qr1KEXieg/s1600/SDC12360.JPG"><img style="display: block; margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 300px; height: 400px;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_XTzX7NUBjh0/TJmZLAlvowI/AAAAAAAAHY0/l4Qr1KEXieg/s400/SDC12360.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5519611232735175426" border="0" /></a>It is like Vegas, only a lot classier with less smut {does that make it better or not as good as Vegas? Honestly, I'm not sure... the vulgarity being part of Vegas's charm, you know. If you don't understand that, you haven't been there.}<br /><br />Having seen that, and not willing to lose any money on gambling, we headed back up the street to Central City, here is the courtyard at the Central City Opera House. There were definitely some pretty sites worth seeing here.<br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_XTzX7NUBjh0/TJmZKrGBUKI/AAAAAAAAHYs/BOTPAmU2w3A/s1600/SDC12363.JPG"><img style="display: block; margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 300px;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_XTzX7NUBjh0/TJmZKrGBUKI/AAAAAAAAHYs/BOTPAmU2w3A/s400/SDC12363.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5519611226964971682" border="0" /></a><span style="color: rgb(51, 153, 153);font-size:180%;" >But two things bothered us about our day trip.</span><br />1. There was no ice cream to be found. This town is 100% casinos & saloon style restaurants. Even the clerk at the grand Ameristar hotel didn't know where to direct us when we asked her to recommend a place. She asked 5 co-workers and finally told us to go to Cook's Palace - a saloon style bar. For ice cream. <span style="font-style: italic;">We were told there would be ice cream.</span> Papa, you owe us an ice cream.<br /><br />2. This town is devoid of children. It actually gave us a weird feeling. We were freaks that stood out toting our two year-old along. We saw three teenagers walking home from school -<span style="font-style: italic;"> does that count?</span> You don't realize how strange it feels to be in a place with zero children until you find yourself there and realize how unearthly it is. I kid you not, it made us a little depressed, and we came to the conclusion that a world without goofy, silly, whiny, excitable, stinky, smiley children is no place we could ever call home.<br /><br />What's usually the demographic that fawns over Eisley the most - the retirees & elderly, who were all out gambling on a Tuesday afternoon - passed her by as if she was a common houseplant. At Great-Grandma Sander's retirement community we practically have to pry them off of her - they act as if they haven't seen a child in 1,000 years and she is the Chosen One, surrounding her like vultures and making all three of our heads swell. It was probably good for us to be humbled this way, actually. We're sort of jaded by how much attention she gets in public sometimes... <span style="font-style: italic;">What do you mean she's not the center of your universe?</span> Go figure.<br /><br />But seriously, Black Hawk made Vegas look like Kiddie Land.<br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_XTzX7NUBjh0/TJmZKJNVU0I/AAAAAAAAHYk/Hncr8z0Q-xA/s1600/SDC12366.JPG"><img style="display: block; margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 300px; height: 400px;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_XTzX7NUBjh0/TJmZKJNVU0I/AAAAAAAAHYk/Hncr8z0Q-xA/s400/SDC12366.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5519611217868837698" border="0" /></a>Here is the only sign of any family friendliness we saw in the entire town. Yes, Dostal Alley actually went so far as to post it on their window - they have pizza, beer, and also allow children! Wow. In spite of the warm welcome, there were still no children in there. {I imagined walking in with Eisley and the bartender eyeing her and saying in a gruff voice, <span style="font-style: italic;">"We don't take kindly to your types 'round here."</span>}<br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_XTzX7NUBjh0/TJmZJvJZIMI/AAAAAAAAHYc/WjTLIamHFz4/s1600/SDC12368.JPG"><img style="display: block; margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 318px;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_XTzX7NUBjh0/TJmZJvJZIMI/AAAAAAAAHYc/WjTLIamHFz4/s400/SDC12368.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5519611210872987842" border="0" /></a>In fact, it was so eerie, so strange to us - the way people looked at us & Eisley and the way we stood out in her presence - that I seriously would not have been at all surprised to see this guy come around the corner. I was pretty much expecting to see him at any moment:<br /><br /><object width="480" height="385"><param name="movie" value="http://www.youtube.com/v/zUnhfvGdmmw?fs=1&hl=en_US"><param name="allowFullScreen" value="true"><param name="allowscriptaccess" value="always"><embed src="http://www.youtube.com/v/zUnhfvGdmmw?fs=1&hl=en_US" type="application/x-shockwave-flash" allowscriptaccess="always" allowfullscreen="true" width="480" height="385"></embed></object><br /><br /><br />Creepiest. Guy. Ever.<br /><br />And I'm fairly certain Black Hawk hires him to keep the kids out of their casino town.<br /><br />Anyway, it was still a good time, just to finally see Central City where - despite being a 4th generation Colorado native {or is it 3rd? I always forget about great-grandpa Erickson...} - I have never been before. We left hungry and feeling guilty that Eisley hadn't been at all entertained. So we sought solace in Idaho Springs at a little place dear to my heart: <a href="http://www.beaujos.com/">Beau Jo's</a>. There they had a kiddie menu, a booster seat & crayons waiting for us. Along with other children also dining nearby, we breathed a sigh of relief.<br /><span style="color: rgb(51, 153, 153);font-size:180%;" ><br /><span style="font-weight: bold;">Thanks for the tip, Papa Erickson! We did enjoy. But don't think we're letting you out of an ice cream date...</span><br /><br /><span style="font-weight: bold;">Love,</span><br /><span style="font-weight: bold;">Heather</span></span>Heatherhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13093962932172006220noreply@blogger.com5tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8406919349904887846.post-87475177935788564122010-09-14T21:33:00.000-07:002010-09-15T09:36:59.799-07:00Family Outing No. 1: The Aquarium<div style="text-align: center; color: rgb(51, 153, 153);"><span style="font-size:130%;"><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_XTzX7NUBjh0/TJBNsTL8WAI/AAAAAAAAHYQ/S1Fi47Dq15Y/s1600/SDC12179.JPG"><img style="display: block; margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 300px;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_XTzX7NUBjh0/TJBNsTL8WAI/AAAAAAAAHYQ/S1Fi47Dq15Y/s400/SDC12179.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5516994966988806146" border="0" /></a></span><span style="font-size:130%;">I have <span style="font-size:180%;"><span style="font-weight: bold;">3 family outings</span></span> to share with you -<br />all of which took place in the last couple weeks.<br />We've been busy, trying to get the most out of<br />summer and our time together.<br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_XTzX7NUBjh0/TJBNraeeC9I/AAAAAAAAHYA/HO9KXehrg0I/s1600/SDC12156.JPG"><img style="display: block; margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 300px;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_XTzX7NUBjh0/TJBNraeeC9I/AAAAAAAAHYA/HO9KXehrg0I/s400/SDC12156.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5516994951765691346" border="0" /></a></span><span style="font-size:130%;">So a couple weeks ago, on a cool Tuesday night, we wanted to take Eisley somewhere fun. Our little threesome hit up the Downtown Aquarium in Denver. It was the perfect time to go, not busy at all - I think we passed maybe two other groups while there. Although I do hope that was an anomaly because I would hate for Denver to lose this attraction.<br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_XTzX7NUBjh0/TJBNsJQUchI/AAAAAAAAHYI/U5N-QifdpnI/s1600/SDC12164.JPG"><img style="display: block; margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 300px;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_XTzX7NUBjh0/TJBNsJQUchI/AAAAAAAAHYI/U5N-QifdpnI/s400/SDC12164.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5516994964322808338" border="0" /></a></span><span style="font-size:130%;">It's a fantastic place to take a toddler.<br />Eisley was in heaven.<br />We couldn't get her to look away from the fish<br />long enough to get a picture of her smiling.<br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_XTzX7NUBjh0/TJBNo5zfZ4I/AAAAAAAAHX4/XWISA1LzXfk/s1600/SDC12202.JPG"><img style="display: block; margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 300px;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_XTzX7NUBjh0/TJBNo5zfZ4I/AAAAAAAAHX4/XWISA1LzXfk/s400/SDC12202.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5516994908635752322" border="0" /></a></span><span style="font-size:130%;">The exhibits they have are very cool,<br />if you haven't been lately you really should go soon.<br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_XTzX7NUBjh0/TJBNVmDULgI/AAAAAAAAHXw/MselBHc2zx0/s1600/SDC12171.JPG"><img style="display: block; margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 300px; height: 400px;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_XTzX7NUBjh0/TJBNVmDULgI/AAAAAAAAHXw/MselBHc2zx0/s400/SDC12171.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5516994576915901954" border="0" /></a></span><span style="font-size:130%;">Some of the fish were HUGE.<br />Like this guy, sitting next to the shark...<br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_XTzX7NUBjh0/TJBNVIaM6PI/AAAAAAAAHXo/JVZ72Hoke8s/s1600/SDC12166.JPG"><img style="display: block; margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 300px;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_XTzX7NUBjh0/TJBNVIaM6PI/AAAAAAAAHXo/JVZ72Hoke8s/s400/SDC12166.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5516994568958830834" border="0" /></a></span><span style="font-size:130%;">I <span style="font-style: italic; font-weight: bold;">adored </span>the seahorses.<br />I could have stood and watched<br />these graceful little creatures all day.<br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgxRogA0fbjqGY7-VCNeSsENMxTrJBOu3NvQ9xk4IlZ8NRC4ioA1Lc2B2KWDFmvUI2-U8jeWBCcyY-uh_Ojdgh509tvVqVUaT9pKp004OC3i6aJEom7Um_ys-suFoIhyphenhyphenC7GefHl_HuhrWk/s1600/SDC12170.JPG"><img style="display: block; margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 300px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgxRogA0fbjqGY7-VCNeSsENMxTrJBOu3NvQ9xk4IlZ8NRC4ioA1Lc2B2KWDFmvUI2-U8jeWBCcyY-uh_Ojdgh509tvVqVUaT9pKp004OC3i6aJEom7Um_ys-suFoIhyphenhyphenC7GefHl_HuhrWk/s400/SDC12170.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5516994548153931058" border="0" /></a></span><span style="font-size:130%;">But this black & white fish was my favorite. I had to take a picture & share. When I see marvels like this in nature I can't help but roll my eyes at evolution theories & the whole "big bang" idea. This momma believes in creationism, all done at the hands of a magnificent God. Big bang? How can anyone believe that? Look at this fish! This guy was designed, just like you & me...<br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_XTzX7NUBjh0/TJBNS36OtvI/AAAAAAAAHXQ/4qYBGMCcm44/s1600/SDC12190.JPG"><img style="display: block; margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 300px;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_XTzX7NUBjh0/TJBNS36OtvI/AAAAAAAAHXQ/4qYBGMCcm44/s400/SDC12190.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5516994530170025714" border="0" /></a></span><span style="font-size:130%;">Eisley was just as mesmerized by<br />the aquatic creations that God gave us.<br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_XTzX7NUBjh0/TJBM7fizG5I/AAAAAAAAHXI/K4WcUWaz9c4/s1600/SDC12191.JPG"><img style="display: block; margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 300px; height: 400px;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_XTzX7NUBjh0/TJBM7fizG5I/AAAAAAAAHXI/K4WcUWaz9c4/s400/SDC12191.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5516994128492305298" border="0" /></a></span><span style="font-size:130%;">Like these guys:<br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_XTzX7NUBjh0/TJBM5LUSqUI/AAAAAAAAHXA/gPIgWXzLRF4/s1600/SDC12195.JPG"><img style="display: block; margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 300px;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_XTzX7NUBjh0/TJBM5LUSqUI/AAAAAAAAHXA/gPIgWXzLRF4/s400/SDC12195.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5516994088703011138" border="0" /></a></span><span style="font-size:130%;">And here I am about to throw Eisley to the stingrays...<br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_XTzX7NUBjh0/TJBM4cQfqoI/AAAAAAAAHW4/e6_srNVFDnc/s1600/SDC12208.JPG"><img style="display: block; margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 300px;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_XTzX7NUBjh0/TJBM4cQfqoI/AAAAAAAAHW4/e6_srNVFDnc/s400/SDC12208.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5516994076070619778" border="0" /></a></span><span style="font-size:130%;">This was our favorite part, at the end of our tour we walked into a room with a shallow pool swarming with stingrays! They let you pet them as they swim by. They are just too cool.<br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_XTzX7NUBjh0/TJBM3y-eRwI/AAAAAAAAHWw/rrYXhe9JKgg/s1600/SDC12210.JPG"><img style="display: block; margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 300px;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_XTzX7NUBjh0/TJBM3y-eRwI/AAAAAAAAHWw/rrYXhe9JKgg/s400/SDC12210.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5516994064989177602" border="0" /></a></span><span style="font-size:130%;">One of the greatest joys I take in being a mother is seeing my daughter discover & explore some of the delights of this world.<br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_XTzX7NUBjh0/TJBM2q3POzI/AAAAAAAAHWo/imLJI-t7Q0o/s1600/SDC12214.JPG"><img style="display: block; margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 300px;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_XTzX7NUBjh0/TJBM2q3POzI/AAAAAAAAHWo/imLJI-t7Q0o/s400/SDC12214.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5516994045631478578" border="0" /></a></span><span style="font-size:130%;"><span style="font-size:180%;"><span style="font-weight: bold;">We had a grand old time. </span></span><br /><br />Next up... Family Outing No. 2: The Brewery<br /></span></div>Heatherhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13093962932172006220noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8406919349904887846.post-59702656703115050432010-08-28T09:29:00.000-07:002010-08-28T10:44:19.496-07:00Stardust<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_XTzX7NUBjh0/THlAwHTj08I/AAAAAAAAHVw/xad6oxRP_1s/s1600/SDC12145-1.JPG"><img style="display: block; margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 300px;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_XTzX7NUBjh0/THlAwHTj08I/AAAAAAAAHVw/xad6oxRP_1s/s400/SDC12145-1.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5510506814403498946" border="0" /></a><span style="color: rgb(51, 153, 153);font-size:180%;" ><span style="font-weight: bold;">It's about darn time</span></span> I update my blog. Sorry, folks, but lately I just haven't been up to it. Not blogger's block or anything - I just haven't felt like it. But by golly, I have not poured myself into this blog for almost 3 years now just to burn out and stop posting. Never.<br /><br />It's 10:30am. Eisley and I just woke up at 10. I went to yell at the dog's for barking - we have an unusually high number of pedestrians in this neighborhood, most of them walking their dogs. Our dogs have to bark & howl at every. single. one. of. them. But this time it was Justin they were howling at, he ran up the walk and presented me with a white bag, which can only mean one thing, kissed me on the cheek and said, "Have a good day, I have to go!"<br /><br />Just like that he was gone again.<br /><br />A white paper bag means: a croissant from <a href="http://www.yelp.com/biz/trompeau-bakery-denver">Trompeau's Bakery</a>. If you live in the Denver metro area and have never been to Trompeau's you're missing out. A little hole in the wall, right across the street from DU, run by a real Frenchman - thus, he knows how to make a croissant like nobody's business. You MUST visit the hole in the wall and delight yourself with a ham & cheese, or perhaps a pear & chocolate.<br /><br />Or pick one up in the morning to surprise your wife with.<br /><br />So, me with my warm croissant & Eisley occupied by playing the piano with her butt {a daily morning ritual}, I now have a chance to update my blog and I must do so.<br /><span style="font-size:180%;"><br /></span><div style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size:180%;"><span style="color: rgb(51, 153, 153); font-weight: bold;">I give you: <span style="color: rgb(153, 153, 255);">Stardust</span>.</span></span><br /><span style="color: rgb(102, 102, 102);font-size:85%;" >{The small one on the left.}</span><br /></div><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_XTzX7NUBjh0/THk_gRP-wQI/AAAAAAAAHVo/TBjKSOY0Pqw/s1600/SDC12136.JPG"><img style="display: block; margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 300px;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_XTzX7NUBjh0/THk_gRP-wQI/AAAAAAAAHVo/TBjKSOY0Pqw/s400/SDC12136.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5510505442683306242" border="0" /></a>Eisley's first pet. We spent some of her birthday money on <a href="http://www.amazon.com/Marina-Betta-Kit-Contemporary-Theme/dp/B001B56UKW/ref=sr_1_2?ie=UTF8&s=home-garden&qid=1283015045&sr=8-2">this little setup</a>. Of course, after the pet store I read online that 1/2 a gallon is far too small for a betta {then why do they market this tiny betta kit???} so we'll have to upgrade Stardust's house here pretty soon...<br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_XTzX7NUBjh0/THk_gI5fJBI/AAAAAAAAHVg/Earh25Z7yWQ/s1600/SDC12138.JPG"><img style="display: block; margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 300px;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_XTzX7NUBjh0/THk_gI5fJBI/AAAAAAAAHVg/Earh25Z7yWQ/s400/SDC12138.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5510505440441476114" border="0" /></a>Which is too bad, because it's so lovely to have a tank that mounts on the wall. Out of reach for small, curious hands, if you get what I mean.<br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_XTzX7NUBjh0/THk_fvlQZII/AAAAAAAAHVY/Mjb8EJIL5yw/s1600/SDC12142.JPG"><img style="display: block; margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 300px; height: 400px;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_XTzX7NUBjh0/THk_fvlQZII/AAAAAAAAHVY/Mjb8EJIL5yw/s400/SDC12142.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5510505433645737090" border="0" /></a>Eisley loves her new pet, and feeding him has become part of our daily schedule. Now that she's two we're trying to create more rituals & routines in her day, such as brushing teeth & Lord's Prayer before bed. Feeding Stardust is a pre-nap routine.<br /><div style="text-align: center;"><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_XTzX7NUBjh0/THk_fF-6aHI/AAAAAAAAHVQ/nhN23thRwdA/s1600/SDC12140.JPG"><img style="display: block; margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 300px;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_XTzX7NUBjh0/THk_fF-6aHI/AAAAAAAAHVQ/nhN23thRwdA/s400/SDC12140.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5510505422479059058" border="0" /></a><span style="font-size:130%;"><span style="color: rgb(51, 153, 153); font-weight: bold;">My grandmother gave my sister & I each our own pet fish when I was about two years old. It's one of my first memories. </span></span><br /></div><br />Cheers! Let's see how long it takes me to post again...Heatherhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13093962932172006220noreply@blogger.com9tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8406919349904887846.post-37693073266579823022010-08-08T21:26:00.000-07:002010-08-09T09:09:11.919-07:00Eisley's Carnival!<div style="text-align: center; color: rgb(255, 102, 102);"><span style="font-size:180%;">Two years ago today my darling Eisley was born!<br /></span></div><br /><div style="text-align: center; color: rgb(255, 102, 102);"><span style="font-size:130%;"><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_XTzX7NUBjh0/TF-Jq6Lhp7I/AAAAAAAAHUg/r7iCIx1ocac/s1600/eisbdayinvite.jpg"><img style="display: block; margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 286px; height: 400px;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_XTzX7NUBjh0/TF-Jq6Lhp7I/AAAAAAAAHUg/r7iCIx1ocac/s400/eisbdayinvite.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5503268639935145906" border="0" /></a></span><span style="font-size:130%;"><span style="font-size:85%;">Above is the party invite, which<a href="http://www.etsy.com/shop/bnute?section_id=5964214&page=2"> I got here. </a><br /><br /></span></span><span style="font-size:130%;">Today was Eisley's Carnival - to celebrate her 2nd birthday! Over 30 of our dearest friends & family were there to help us celebrate.<br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_XTzX7NUBjh0/TF-JqqZyPYI/AAAAAAAAHUY/Q3lKL8jLWhM/s1600/SDC11897.JPG"><img style="display: block; margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 300px;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_XTzX7NUBjh0/TF-JqqZyPYI/AAAAAAAAHUY/Q3lKL8jLWhM/s400/SDC11897.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5503268635699985794" border="0" /></a></span><span style="font-size:130%;">Kiddos got a bag for holding their treats, with a balloon to decorate.<br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_XTzX7NUBjh0/TF-JqXkf9yI/AAAAAAAAHUQ/pd7w5gRTNTY/s1600/SDC11894.JPG"><img style="display: block; margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 300px; height: 400px;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_XTzX7NUBjh0/TF-JqXkf9yI/AAAAAAAAHUQ/pd7w5gRTNTY/s400/SDC11894.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5503268630644651810" border="0" /></a></span><span style="font-size:130%;"><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_XTzX7NUBjh0/TF-JqFqXX3I/AAAAAAAAHUI/Ep2K8Yiw3zg/s1600/SDC11895.JPG"><img style="display: block; margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 300px;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_XTzX7NUBjh0/TF-JqFqXX3I/AAAAAAAAHUI/Ep2K8Yiw3zg/s400/SDC11895.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5503268625837416306" border="0" /></a></span><span style="font-size:130%;">Games were set up, at which they could win prizes:<br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_XTzX7NUBjh0/TF-Ie834rkI/AAAAAAAAHUA/I6r2VebFonc/s1600/SDC11892.JPG"><img style="display: block; margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 300px;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_XTzX7NUBjh0/TF-Ie834rkI/AAAAAAAAHUA/I6r2VebFonc/s400/SDC11892.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5503267334988017218" border="0" /></a></span><span style="font-size:130%;"><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_XTzX7NUBjh0/TF-IeHYBC-I/AAAAAAAAHT4/pV8A1M57_eA/s1600/SDC11892-2.JPG"><img style="display: block; margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 277px; height: 400px;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_XTzX7NUBjh0/TF-IeHYBC-I/AAAAAAAAHT4/pV8A1M57_eA/s400/SDC11892-2.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5503267320627268578" border="0" /></a></span><span style="font-size:130%;">Ring Toss prize was a "pet fish", or a gold fish toy in glycerin soap!<br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_XTzX7NUBjh0/TF-IdVFukoI/AAAAAAAAHTw/9HXDYbs7N6g/s1600/SDC11985.JPG"><img style="display: block; margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 300px;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_XTzX7NUBjh0/TF-IdVFukoI/AAAAAAAAHTw/9HXDYbs7N6g/s400/SDC11985.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5503267307128787586" border="0" /></a></span><span style="font-size:130%;"><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_XTzX7NUBjh0/TF-Ic0Ll94I/AAAAAAAAHTo/UytuSU2FcnI/s1600/SDC11892-1.JPG"><img style="display: block; margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 280px; height: 400px;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_XTzX7NUBjh0/TF-Ic0Ll94I/AAAAAAAAHTo/UytuSU2FcnI/s400/SDC11892-1.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5503267298295019394" border="0" /></a></span><span style="font-size:130%;">Spin-A-Prize treats included one of the following:<br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_XTzX7NUBjh0/TF-IcWiD9GI/AAAAAAAAHTg/Cqo2Cxtt3bs/s1600/Eisley%27s+Birthday.jpg"><img style="display: block; margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 290px;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_XTzX7NUBjh0/TF-IcWiD9GI/AAAAAAAAHTg/Cqo2Cxtt3bs/s400/Eisley%27s+Birthday.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5503267290336195682" border="0" /></a></span><span style="font-size:130%;"><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_XTzX7NUBjh0/TF-ILQiOHrI/AAAAAAAAHTY/MT9AQ06W8nY/s1600/SDC11893.JPG"><img style="display: block; margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 300px; height: 400px;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_XTzX7NUBjh0/TF-ILQiOHrI/AAAAAAAAHTY/MT9AQ06W8nY/s400/SDC11893.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5503266996668473010" border="0" /></a></span><span style="font-size:130%;">From the Duck Pond game they won a gumball machine.<br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_XTzX7NUBjh0/TF-IKcLIyfI/AAAAAAAAHTQ/NLHtfB2pFyI/s1600/Dubble-Bubble-gumball-machine-favors-_4747_r.jpg"><img style="display: block; margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 333px; height: 400px;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_XTzX7NUBjh0/TF-IKcLIyfI/AAAAAAAAHTQ/NLHtfB2pFyI/s400/Dubble-Bubble-gumball-machine-favors-_4747_r.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5503266982613010930" border="0" /></a></span><span style="font-size:130%;">A fortune telling booth -<br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_XTzX7NUBjh0/TF-IJZzA_SI/AAAAAAAAHTI/9FkChXtuZ-s/s1600/SDC11890.JPG"><img style="display: block; margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 300px; height: 400px;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_XTzX7NUBjh0/TF-IJZzA_SI/AAAAAAAAHTI/9FkChXtuZ-s/s400/SDC11890.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5503266964795096354" border="0" /></a></span><span style="font-size:130%;"><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_XTzX7NUBjh0/TF-IJH2v6NI/AAAAAAAAHTA/Af_YMbPwqSs/s1600/SDC11891.JPG"><img style="display: block; margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 300px;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_XTzX7NUBjh0/TF-IJH2v6NI/AAAAAAAAHTA/Af_YMbPwqSs/s400/SDC11891.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5503266959978916050" border="0" /></a></span><span style="font-size:130%;"> - kids got a fortune cookie & mood fish.<br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_XTzX7NUBjh0/TF-IIdom_rI/AAAAAAAAHS4/8yPFyhgvp6Q/s1600/SDC11971.JPG"><img style="display: block; margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 300px; height: 400px;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_XTzX7NUBjh0/TF-IIdom_rI/AAAAAAAAHS4/8yPFyhgvp6Q/s400/SDC11971.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5503266948645322418" border="0" /></a></span><span style="font-size:130%;">The "Tattoo Parlor", with temporary tattoos!<br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_XTzX7NUBjh0/TF-HdjhLbPI/AAAAAAAAHSw/Lq3SYw6JH0c/s1600/SDC11900.JPG"><img style="display: block; margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 300px;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_XTzX7NUBjh0/TF-HdjhLbPI/AAAAAAAAHSw/Lq3SYw6JH0c/s400/SDC11900.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5503266211490393330" border="0" /></a></span><span style="font-size:130%;">And finally, we put up a photo booth! Complete with photo props.<br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_XTzX7NUBjh0/TF-Hc9XC39I/AAAAAAAAHSo/twG1-WEOIWA/s1600/SDC11899.JPG"><img style="display: block; margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 300px; height: 400px;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_XTzX7NUBjh0/TF-Hc9XC39I/AAAAAAAAHSo/twG1-WEOIWA/s400/SDC11899.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5503266201247342546" border="0" /></a></span><span style="font-size:130%;">Belle, our adorable neighbor:<br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_XTzX7NUBjh0/TF-HcL9XHnI/AAAAAAAAHSg/U2D097aLUk8/s1600/SDC11920.JPG"><img style="display: block; margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 300px;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_XTzX7NUBjh0/TF-HcL9XHnI/AAAAAAAAHSg/U2D097aLUk8/s400/SDC11920.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5503266187986280050" border="0" /></a></span><span style="font-size:130%;">Moriah, Ayla, & Indy - Eisley's cousins:<br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_XTzX7NUBjh0/TF-HbeDxtDI/AAAAAAAAHSY/l_jp-6zAA08/s1600/SDC11926.JPG"><img style="display: block; margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 302px;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_XTzX7NUBjh0/TF-HbeDxtDI/AAAAAAAAHSY/l_jp-6zAA08/s400/SDC11926.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5503266175665157170" border="0" /></a></span><span style="font-size:130%;">Peter & Angela - Eisley's godparents:<br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_XTzX7NUBjh0/TF-G2DgMXJI/AAAAAAAAHSI/AvzOh3IAC7w/s1600/SDC11969.JPG"><img style="display: block; margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 300px;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_XTzX7NUBjh0/TF-G2DgMXJI/AAAAAAAAHSI/AvzOh3IAC7w/s400/SDC11969.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5503265532881427602" border="0" /></a></span><span style="font-size:130%;">Friends Dalley & Aaron, expecting their own precious daughter next month!<br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_XTzX7NUBjh0/TF-KBIg8IzI/AAAAAAAAHUw/deS5gNs8upw/s1600/SDC11970.JPG"><img style="display: block; margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 300px;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_XTzX7NUBjh0/TF-KBIg8IzI/AAAAAAAAHUw/deS5gNs8upw/s400/SDC11970.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5503269021740180274" border="0" /></a></span><span style="font-size:130%;">For background music, I got this old timey carousel music on Amazon! Justin said it would drive him crazy, but it added so much to the atmosphere.<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_XTzX7NUBjh0/TF-HalKN10I/AAAAAAAAHSQ/JGhT7lzUcL4/s1600/61wUEBBZ1lL._SL500_AA280_.jpg"><img style="display: block; margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 280px; height: 280px;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_XTzX7NUBjh0/TF-HalKN10I/AAAAAAAAHSQ/JGhT7lzUcL4/s400/61wUEBBZ1lL._SL500_AA280_.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5503266160391345986" border="0" /></a></span><span style="font-size:130%;"><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_XTzX7NUBjh0/TF-G1UgmoGI/AAAAAAAAHSA/ESNF8sBrX1s/s1600/SDC11898.JPG"><img style="display: block; margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 300px;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_XTzX7NUBjh0/TF-G1UgmoGI/AAAAAAAAHSA/ESNF8sBrX1s/s400/SDC11898.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5503265520266682466" border="0" /></a></span><span style="font-size:130%;"><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_XTzX7NUBjh0/TF-G0qNxgEI/AAAAAAAAHR4/SOTwnUkB-WA/s1600/SDC11908.JPG"><img style="display: block; margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 300px;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_XTzX7NUBjh0/TF-G0qNxgEI/AAAAAAAAHR4/SOTwnUkB-WA/s400/SDC11908.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5503265508913414210" border="0" /></a></span><span style="font-size:130%;"><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_XTzX7NUBjh0/TF-GzxszsEI/AAAAAAAAHRw/qeLbMU5TsmQ/s1600/SDC11909-1.JPG"><img style="display: block; margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 300px; height: 400px;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_XTzX7NUBjh0/TF-GzxszsEI/AAAAAAAAHRw/qeLbMU5TsmQ/s400/SDC11909-1.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5503265493742760002" border="0" /></a></span><span style="font-size:130%;">Here is the carousel cake I made Eisley! It was made from chocolate cake, buttercream, marshmallow fondant, royal icing, and color flow horses I piped myself.<br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_XTzX7NUBjh0/TF-GzHhXHiI/AAAAAAAAHRo/EYiB_PRDTQ4/s1600/SDC11909.JPG"><img style="display: block; margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 318px; height: 400px;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_XTzX7NUBjh0/TF-GzHhXHiI/AAAAAAAAHRo/EYiB_PRDTQ4/s400/SDC11909.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5503265482420461090" border="0" /></a></span><span style="font-size:130%;">Cotton candy & animal crackers<br /></span><span style="font-size:130%;">Peanuts!<br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_XTzX7NUBjh0/TF-GWCQ89GI/AAAAAAAAHRY/o-3nwPQfjI0/s1600/SDC11904.JPG"><span style="font-size:130%;"></span></a><span style="font-size:130%;"><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_XTzX7NUBjh0/TGAnWrUD2tI/AAAAAAAAHVA/eiCIZpYFUJk/s1600/DSC00145.JPG"><img style="display: block; margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 300px;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_XTzX7NUBjh0/TGAnWrUD2tI/AAAAAAAAHVA/eiCIZpYFUJk/s400/DSC00145.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5503442015184214738" border="0" /><span style="font-size:130%;"></span></a><span style="font-size:130%;"><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_XTzX7NUBjh0/TF-GWytf8WI/AAAAAAAAHRg/qm2lpIp0al0/s1600/SDC11907.JPG"><img style="display: block; margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 300px; height: 400px;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_XTzX7NUBjh0/TF-GWytf8WI/AAAAAAAAHRg/qm2lpIp0al0/s400/SDC11907.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5503264995797889378" border="0" /></a></span><span style="font-size:130%;"><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_XTzX7NUBjh0/TF-GWCQ89GI/AAAAAAAAHRY/o-3nwPQfjI0/s1600/SDC11904.JPG"><img style="display: block; margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 300px; height: 400px;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_XTzX7NUBjh0/TF-GWCQ89GI/AAAAAAAAHRY/o-3nwPQfjI0/s400/SDC11904.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5503264982793253986" border="0" /></a></span><br />Piggy Pie:<br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_XTzX7NUBjh0/TGAnWRq0uHI/AAAAAAAAHU4/mZTcGAqrRCY/s1600/DSC00151.JPG"><img style="display: block; margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 300px; height: 400px;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_XTzX7NUBjh0/TGAnWRq0uHI/AAAAAAAAHU4/mZTcGAqrRCY/s400/DSC00151.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5503442008300370034" border="0" /></a></span><span style="font-size:130%;">Popcorn!<br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhHzNP0r5V0UB830j3Rk4z8mW2FjkwHk8MlsmXuPq21oFhwsARO4hAEh3ixpLGkb5Uu_fbTgTKPmRxs_mZl0Z34Bu8UfJYjw0MrCtf55BTdrIyz2PoFc17gLGEkQTGJnRf1erLlbX4Wqqc/s1600/SDC11903.JPG"><img style="display: block; margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 300px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhHzNP0r5V0UB830j3Rk4z8mW2FjkwHk8MlsmXuPq21oFhwsARO4hAEh3ixpLGkb5Uu_fbTgTKPmRxs_mZl0Z34Bu8UfJYjw0MrCtf55BTdrIyz2PoFc17gLGEkQTGJnRf1erLlbX4Wqqc/s400/SDC11903.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5503264975299674162" border="0" /></a></span><span style="font-size:130%;">Circus peanuts, served on a ferris wheel.<br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi7whTN4UNzPW5sIYTbDoUVPBTUvSA3tdJkp3LEDBw8ly5PWXzOGdUUq6SggCSpWQmqfC_4U8Cqq2bxTvnLTLlLG9YE1qeekaPP8NrV1c1BaGbH-5n0IB7H8FUmlFEqlleZB86adeXVI_o/s1600/SDC11906.JPG"><img style="display: block; margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 300px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi7whTN4UNzPW5sIYTbDoUVPBTUvSA3tdJkp3LEDBw8ly5PWXzOGdUUq6SggCSpWQmqfC_4U8Cqq2bxTvnLTLlLG9YE1qeekaPP8NrV1c1BaGbH-5n0IB7H8FUmlFEqlleZB86adeXVI_o/s400/SDC11906.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5503264960808452066" border="0" /></a></span><span style="font-size:130%;">We made about 35 caramel apples, and they were a hit.<br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_XTzX7NUBjh0/TF-GUZdzCLI/AAAAAAAAHRA/ivCYJVM6WV8/s1600/SDC11910.JPG"><img style="display: block; margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 300px;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_XTzX7NUBjh0/TF-GUZdzCLI/AAAAAAAAHRA/ivCYJVM6WV8/s400/SDC11910.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5503264954661406898" border="0" /><span style="font-size:130%;"><span style="font-size:130%;"><span style="font-size:130%;"><span style="font-size:130%;"><span style="font-size:130%;"></span></span></span></span></span></a><span style="font-size:130%;"><span style="font-size:130%;"><span style="font-size:130%;"><span style="font-size:130%;"><span style="font-size:130%;"><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhhIjXdSZmzNN2yveqk7CFXv8HNtnrEOMbqxf7MjL8NjDZfpkCnrTGoUGSJv__Y3hjzVIdcMqfJzv63-6asVqBZPSvrmg9aGIwOrIRu5WO7WuOq0O5bZVCWT0c5A7FW3DrL9BhUmL2BHOI/s1600/DSC00147.JPG"><img style="display: block; margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 300px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhhIjXdSZmzNN2yveqk7CFXv8HNtnrEOMbqxf7MjL8NjDZfpkCnrTGoUGSJv__Y3hjzVIdcMqfJzv63-6asVqBZPSvrmg9aGIwOrIRu5WO7WuOq0O5bZVCWT0c5A7FW3DrL9BhUmL2BHOI/s400/DSC00147.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5503442017360906050" border="0" /></a></span></span></span></span></span></span><span style="font-size:130%;"><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiV_r2DcUZAKlIMfS_VO3jriZ5I63KO-L9nPe-dzigurRJgusDHdVDwA7dNKyNOcmJkiQU6i0jWqIYWQoQKxhn8t-MkEuZgEkYKDbP-0F35gUaJAYk54oTQOdbznA4ngU9sFNqP6V9F57s/s1600/SDC11913.JPG"><img style="display: block; margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 300px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiV_r2DcUZAKlIMfS_VO3jriZ5I63KO-L9nPe-dzigurRJgusDHdVDwA7dNKyNOcmJkiQU6i0jWqIYWQoQKxhn8t-MkEuZgEkYKDbP-0F35gUaJAYk54oTQOdbznA4ngU9sFNqP6V9F57s/s400/SDC11913.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5503263741283953762" border="0" /></a></span><span style="font-size:130%;"><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_XTzX7NUBjh0/TF-FNSm89FI/AAAAAAAAHQw/qj2hITj21VM/s1600/SDC11914.JPG"><img style="display: block; margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 300px;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_XTzX7NUBjh0/TF-FNSm89FI/AAAAAAAAHQw/qj2hITj21VM/s400/SDC11914.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5503263733050045522" border="0" /></a></span><span style="font-size:130%;">The Birthday Girl totally pigged out on peanut M&Ms.<br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_XTzX7NUBjh0/TF-FMzU2snI/AAAAAAAAHQo/GaBrc83O2UQ/s1600/SDC11911.JPG"><img style="display: block; margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 300px;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_XTzX7NUBjh0/TF-FMzU2snI/AAAAAAAAHQo/GaBrc83O2UQ/s400/SDC11911.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5503263724652638834" border="0" /></a></span><span style="font-size:130%;"><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_XTzX7NUBjh0/TF-FMsDBHMI/AAAAAAAAHQg/xTfgu4LybLY/s1600/SDC11919.JPG"><img style="display: block; margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 300px;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_XTzX7NUBjh0/TF-FMsDBHMI/AAAAAAAAHQg/xTfgu4LybLY/s400/SDC11919.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5503263722698775746" border="0" /></a></span><span style="font-size:130%;">Eisley LOVED opening presents!<br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_XTzX7NUBjh0/TF-FMKXcwWI/AAAAAAAAHQY/Be1aVfzPvLU/s1600/SDC11931.JPG"><img style="display: block; margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 300px;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_XTzX7NUBjh0/TF-FMKXcwWI/AAAAAAAAHQY/Be1aVfzPvLU/s400/SDC11931.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5503263713657667938" border="0" /></a></span><span style="font-size:130%;"><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_XTzX7NUBjh0/TF-ErN19wsI/AAAAAAAAHQQ/GL0k-B2Go-s/s1600/SDC11932.JPG"><img style="display: block; margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 300px;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_XTzX7NUBjh0/TF-ErN19wsI/AAAAAAAAHQQ/GL0k-B2Go-s/s400/SDC11932.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5503263147655283394" border="0" /></a></span><span style="font-size:130%;"><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_XTzX7NUBjh0/TF-Eq6Y5IHI/AAAAAAAAHQI/SfoBE7CZONM/s1600/SDC11933.JPG"><img style="display: block; margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 300px;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_XTzX7NUBjh0/TF-Eq6Y5IHI/AAAAAAAAHQI/SfoBE7CZONM/s400/SDC11933.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5503263142433071218" border="0" /></a></span><span style="font-size:130%;"><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_XTzX7NUBjh0/TF-EqpK00SI/AAAAAAAAHQA/RL-Cpx0L3wQ/s1600/SDC11963.JPG"><img style="display: block; margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 300px;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_XTzX7NUBjh0/TF-EqpK00SI/AAAAAAAAHQA/RL-Cpx0L3wQ/s400/SDC11963.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5503263137810665762" border="0" /></a></span><span style="font-size:130%;">Both of her Great Grandmothers were there, which was really special<br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_XTzX7NUBjh0/TF-Eqcb2z9I/AAAAAAAAHP4/sv73XA6ISt4/s1600/SDC11966.JPG"><img style="display: block; margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 300px;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_XTzX7NUBjh0/TF-Eqcb2z9I/AAAAAAAAHP4/sv73XA6ISt4/s400/SDC11966.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5503263134392438738" border="0" /></a></span><span style="font-size:130%;"><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgfOMT-mGOvvoKtHto-YM-Wv6Q0e9tANvVh_MEY6B0vHS0_lyVcd0zCC6yT9xiOlHY1TFZKGxtPh7kFnA07qnFR20AZD9sjbSZHDiEQ4tgKCFPok2AJ2_XX8zJezf4EezEcuZbuIODvoFA/s1600/SDC11965.JPG"><img style="display: block; margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 300px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgfOMT-mGOvvoKtHto-YM-Wv6Q0e9tANvVh_MEY6B0vHS0_lyVcd0zCC6yT9xiOlHY1TFZKGxtPh7kFnA07qnFR20AZD9sjbSZHDiEQ4tgKCFPok2AJ2_XX8zJezf4EezEcuZbuIODvoFA/s400/SDC11965.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5503263123158907714" border="0" /></a></span><span style="font-size:130%;">Happy Birthday Eisley! We love you so much, we hope your party was special for you, it was for us.<br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_XTzX7NUBjh0/TF-Jyt5ONdI/AAAAAAAAHUo/kUE0mqQVPF0/s1600/SDC11919-1.JPG"><img style="display: block; margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 159px; height: 400px;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_XTzX7NUBjh0/TF-Jyt5ONdI/AAAAAAAAHUo/kUE0mqQVPF0/s400/SDC11919-1.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5503268774076102098" border="0" /></a><br /></span><span style="font-size:130%;">PS - Family & friends, I'd love some better pics of Eisley & guests if you have them!<br /><br /><span style="font-size:100%;">Also - I wish I could take credit for all the ideas, but many of them came from these AMAZING carnival parties at <a href="http://karaspartyideas.blogspot.com/search/label/circus%20party">Kara's Party Ideas</a> & <a href="http://www.bystephanielynn.com/2010/04/second-birthday-carnival-extraordinaire.html">Under the Table and Dreaming</a>. </span><br /></span></span></div>Heatherhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13093962932172006220noreply@blogger.com6tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8406919349904887846.post-45865392817147821792010-07-31T22:21:00.000-07:002010-07-31T22:53:13.408-07:00Cravings<div style="text-align: center;"><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_XTzX7NUBjh0/TFUJoKV4bTI/AAAAAAAAHPo/QxYQv7O5efI/s1600/41KSF4%2BFkLL._SS280_.jpg"><img style="display: block; margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 280px; height: 280px;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_XTzX7NUBjh0/TFUJoKV4bTI/AAAAAAAAHPo/QxYQv7O5efI/s400/41KSF4%2BFkLL._SS280_.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5500313105478479154" border="0" /></a><span style="color: rgb(102, 102, 102);font-size:85%;" >{Meet my new boyfriend, Mr. Canada Dry}<br /><br /></span></div><span style="color: rgb(51, 153, 153);font-size:180%;" >They say all pregnancies are different,</span> and at first with Pie #2 I thought it wasn't different at all but now I completely agree.<br /><br />This pregnancy has been more nausea, more acne, and more cravings. INTENSE cravings.<br /><br />And the problem with me being pregnant, something that makes me constantly grumpy, is that I am {most days}<span style="font-size:180%;"><span style="color: rgb(51, 153, 153);"> in a state of constant hunger.</span></span> But with absolutely no appetite.<br /><br />Hunger pangs hit me <span style="font-style: italic;">at least </span>every 30 minutes, no matter how much I had to eat at my last meal. Eating is usually something I enjoy very much {too much}, but when pregnant, it becomes an absolute chore. A chore that I dread. About every thirty minutes I have to stop what I'm doing {because pregnancy hunger pangs are at least 10 times more intense than they are for non-preggos, trust me} and head off to the kitchen. <span style="font-size:180%;"><span style="color: rgb(51, 153, 153);">"Ugh, I have to eat - </span></span><span style="font-style: italic; color: rgb(51, 153, 153);font-size:180%;" >again</span><span style="font-size:180%;"><span style="color: rgb(51, 153, 153);">!"</span></span> Not only that, but I have to find something to eat that won't make me vomit, and that is not always an easy task... I'm talking to you, Cheerios.<br /><br />The good news is, since I have entered into pregnancy both times now a full figured woman, that my typical cravings for things like <span style="font-size:180%;"><span style="color: rgb(51, 153, 153);">chocolate & junk food</span></span> are replaced during pregnancy with cravings for healthy stuff {mostly}.<br /><br />Fruit sounds better than baked goods.<br /><br />A smoothie sounds better than a milkshake.<br /><br />A salad sounds WAY better than a hamburger.<br /><br />This is a good problem. This is how I managed to gain only 15 lbs when I was pregnant with Eisley, and dropped a whopping 45 after giving birth {here's to hoping I can <span style="font-size:180%;"><span style="color: rgb(51, 153, 153);">pull that miracle off</span></span> again, and perhaps keep it off this time? This time, <a href="http://www.amazon.com/Women-Food-God-Unexpected-Everything/dp/1416543074/ref=sr_1_1?ie=UTF8&s=books&qid=1280641363&sr=8-1">I'm prepared, having been enlightened by one Ms. Geneen Roth</a>.}<br /><br />But then there are the <span style="font-style: italic;">weird</span> cravings. Things that make me feel freakish. My husband still teases me about my habit during gestation #1 - soaking apple slices in Fresca before eating them. {It was <span style="font-style: italic;">soooo </span>good!}<br /><br />This pregnancy has brought on a passion for Canada Dry Cranberry-Lime Sparkling Water. I'm <span style="font-size:180%;"><span style="font-style: italic; color: rgb(51, 153, 153);">obsessed </span><span style="color: rgb(51, 153, 153);">with Panera's French onion soup</span></span>, and have it about 3 times a week on average. If my mister mentions grabbing fast food for lunch I scowl at him, "That's too greasy! Yuck!" {This is something I would not say were there no baby inside of me.}<br /><br />But they're not all healthy cravings. Last night, 11:45pm, we had just crawled into bed when I sat up and announced, "Ooooh, pizza by the slice sounds SOOOO good right now!" He looked at me like I was crazy, and for a moment <span style="font-size:180%;"><span style="color: rgb(51, 153, 153);">I did sincerely feel possessed</span></span>. {Wait, what did I just say? That wasn't me!}<br /><br />"Totino's?" He suggested.<br />I looked at him as if he'd just suggested I dye my hair green, "That's disgusting."<br /><br />You see, <span style="color: rgb(51, 153, 153);font-size:180%;" >very particular,</span> pregnancy cravings are.<br /><br />Yesterday also held in store for me an intense craving for Dr. Pepper, a drink which I have always loathed my entire life. Can't stand the stuff - but knock me up and Dr. Pepper is the new man in my life.<br /><br />I <a href="http://heatherispreggers.blogspot.com/2008/02/dr-jekyll-mr-heather.html">mused during the first pregnancy</a> at how you feel like a totally different person when you're pregnant, and I still stand by that belief.<br /><br />All that said, sorry for another boring pregnancy rant/post. But - well - it is my blog. Now, if you'll excuse me, <span style="color: rgb(51, 153, 153);font-size:180%;" >I need to go find something to eat...</span>Heatherhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13093962932172006220noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8406919349904887846.post-85343264882906959192010-07-30T12:38:00.000-07:002010-07-30T13:13:49.830-07:00Baby Envy<img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5234517863759258434" style="display: block; margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center;" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgCUO2duVTTjw7-qXSpFuPN4e1xxozdu4dHokAEBL2ccIFKtfSFVgaTkjwpbOBvZ1yVwuBQxFrdj9CBUulCmCjoU4ci62asKdRAEOBS3HtHIvRfjiqnYRVnHi3oa8JY_ZWFfLMlzjOw-2g/s400/eisley0812+011.JPG" border="0" /><br />It is a good thing Pie² is in the oven, I'm telling you. Eisley keeps rubbing it in my face that she is not a baby anymore.<br /><br />Today I was in my towel robe, post shower, putting on makeup - I heard a rattling noise coming from Eisley's room where she was playing. I immediately stopped applying mascara and went to check on her.<br /><br />She was in her crib, rattling the side rails and looking very proud of herself. Most certainly because I didn't put her there, she had apparently climbed in by herself.<br /><br />A little bit later she runs up to me, hands me her bottle, gets a firm grasp on my finger and pulls me to the kitchen. This is her newest trick, to pull mom or dad towards what she wants. She points to the sink. She wants me to wash and refill her empty bottle. I think, what happened to the days when she simply cried, and we had to guess if it was food/comfort/change that she needed? Now she tells me, in her own adorable way, exactly what she wants.<br /><br />So I fill her bottle, taking my payment via a long, smoochy kiss on her cheek {which is less puffy than ever, might I add, as she is turning into a child and losing her baby fat} and then she's off once again.<br /><br />She scampers down the hallway to her bedroom, points to her crib and says "nite-nite". Is my almost two year old telling me she's ready for her nap? But first, we direct mommy to close the blinds, of course.<br /><br />And so now she is napping, and now that I have a moment of peace to think about it, I'm feeling more grateful than ever that Pie² is coming soon.<br /><br />I'm so proud of Eisley & her toddlerhood achievements, but it is so bittersweet to see the infant fading. She needs me a little less each day. And this is a good thing, but I won't say I don't miss her being a helpless newborn. Of course I do.<br /><br />These days she climbs in and out of the car by herself, sings along to songs she hears, yells at the dogs when they bark, and sometimes can even get her clothes on without help. She used to sleep soundly in her car seat through a grocery trip, now she insists on riding in the cars attached to the carts, and has a conniption fit if we pass the free cookies without stopping to get her one. At night she holds her baby doll up to us, so that we can kiss the baby and put her to bed as well, each time making me think, "This isn't my baby, Eisley, <span style="font-style: italic;">you're</span> my baby. I want to rock <span style="font-style: italic;">you </span>to sleep."<br /><br />I marvel at Eisley but I also can't wait to have another little baby to snuggle and marvel at. In fact this was a big motivating fact when we decided to try for Pie², with Eisley growing more independent each day, I was growing severely jealous of other moms with new babies, and more impatient to have one of my own.<br /><br />Even though Pie² will undoubtedly grow up on me, too.<br /><br />But I'm not done being a mother to infants yet.Heatherhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13093962932172006220noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8406919349904887846.post-41860139963124144672010-07-09T17:39:00.000-07:002010-07-09T17:45:54.433-07:00Peony Petals - a photo post<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjQ-QeWU-S_pYBvfMsQhz_SbFpW3yIM22Peh5nQCWu7bWQg8IENglCGy_HTmtWZ9heAlDsGx_VvbH5aWrLIEC3LMB_8kYA9ZguG3TIylu5VwnjvmGrq5jL7LLnl-01hD1nfrVnWxFBLk2Y/s1600/SDC11543.JPG"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 300px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjQ-QeWU-S_pYBvfMsQhz_SbFpW3yIM22Peh5nQCWu7bWQg8IENglCGy_HTmtWZ9heAlDsGx_VvbH5aWrLIEC3LMB_8kYA9ZguG3TIylu5VwnjvmGrq5jL7LLnl-01hD1nfrVnWxFBLk2Y/s400/SDC11543.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5492071691647611234" border="0" /></a><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_XTzX7NUBjh0/TDfCCfK7CGI/AAAAAAAAHOk/iA-N5KI39zM/s1600/SDC11544.JPG"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 300px;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_XTzX7NUBjh0/TDfCCfK7CGI/AAAAAAAAHOk/iA-N5KI39zM/s400/SDC11544.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5492071618584447074" border="0" /></a><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_XTzX7NUBjh0/TDfCB1Zqd7I/AAAAAAAAHOc/geklY5wlg3Y/s1600/SDC11546.JPG"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 300px;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_XTzX7NUBjh0/TDfCB1Zqd7I/AAAAAAAAHOc/geklY5wlg3Y/s400/SDC11546.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5492071607371986866" border="0" /></a><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_XTzX7NUBjh0/TDfCBjLklqI/AAAAAAAAHOU/A0NfSZwfvTc/s1600/SDC11547.JPG"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 300px;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_XTzX7NUBjh0/TDfCBjLklqI/AAAAAAAAHOU/A0NfSZwfvTc/s400/SDC11547.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5492071602481043106" border="0" /></a><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_XTzX7NUBjh0/TDfCBXJlCBI/AAAAAAAAHOM/oY6DgjhVCyM/s1600/SDC11569.JPG"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 300px;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_XTzX7NUBjh0/TDfCBXJlCBI/AAAAAAAAHOM/oY6DgjhVCyM/s400/SDC11569.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5492071599251458066" border="0" /></a><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_XTzX7NUBjh0/TDfCBMMMUhI/AAAAAAAAHOE/8KuqYDIxme4/s1600/SDC11559.JPG"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 300px;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_XTzX7NUBjh0/TDfCBMMMUhI/AAAAAAAAHOE/8KuqYDIxme4/s400/SDC11559.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5492071596309631506" border="0" /></a><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_XTzX7NUBjh0/TDfBn3kp70I/AAAAAAAAHN8/MG_RQw5Gf5E/s1600/SDC11579.JPG"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 300px; height: 400px;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_XTzX7NUBjh0/TDfBn3kp70I/AAAAAAAAHN8/MG_RQw5Gf5E/s400/SDC11579.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5492071161278361410" border="0" /></a><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_XTzX7NUBjh0/TDfBnjMviSI/AAAAAAAAHN0/vjRNbE4aTc8/s1600/SDC11589.JPG"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 300px;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_XTzX7NUBjh0/TDfBnjMviSI/AAAAAAAAHN0/vjRNbE4aTc8/s400/SDC11589.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5492071155809356066" border="0" /></a><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_XTzX7NUBjh0/TDfBnaX2WMI/AAAAAAAAHNs/Y5shVtkLJCU/s1600/SDC11588.JPG"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 300px;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_XTzX7NUBjh0/TDfBnaX2WMI/AAAAAAAAHNs/Y5shVtkLJCU/s400/SDC11588.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5492071153440020674" border="0" /></a><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_XTzX7NUBjh0/TDfBnBWX43I/AAAAAAAAHNk/u5_7mFTjD-U/s1600/SDC11592+copy.jpg"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 300px;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_XTzX7NUBjh0/TDfBnBWX43I/AAAAAAAAHNk/u5_7mFTjD-U/s400/SDC11592+copy.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5492071146722943858" border="0" /></a><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_XTzX7NUBjh0/TDfBm9eSCKI/AAAAAAAAHNc/tP7lSTFRBlM/s1600/SDC11594.JPG"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 300px; height: 400px;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_XTzX7NUBjh0/TDfBm9eSCKI/AAAAAAAAHNc/tP7lSTFRBlM/s400/SDC11594.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5492071145682372770" border="0" /></a><br /><div style="text-align: center;">{Disclaimer: I would never advocate the destruction of a perfectly good peony ;-), the petals were taken off peonies that were well past their prime & already browning.}<br /><span style="font-size:180%;"><br /><span style="color: rgb(255, 102, 102);">PS - Sorry I've been neglecting the blog lately...</span></span><br /></div>Heatherhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13093962932172006220noreply@blogger.com6tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8406919349904887846.post-16862232170174223592010-06-18T09:20:00.000-07:002010-06-18T20:30:37.395-07:00When I was your age...<span style="color: rgb(51, 153, 153);font-size:180%;" ><span style="font-weight: bold;">{Dear Eisley & Pie #2}</span></span><br /><br />I grew up hearing all about things from the 50s, 60s, and 70s. Parents love to say "when *I* was a kid..."<br /><br />So now I would like to share with you how different technology was during <span style="font-style: italic;">my </span>youth. The 80s & 90s.<br /><br />Here is what my <span style="font-size:180%;"><span style="color: rgb(51, 153, 153);">first cell phone</span></span> looked like. It was just a phone. There were no calculators, alarm clocks, texting, or fancy ringtones. If you were to see a side view of this baby, you'd see it's about the size of a brick. This was when I was 15. Prior to that, if you were out and about and wanted to make a call, you had to find a quarter and a payphone.<br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_XTzX7NUBjh0/SlQjuWwdEfI/AAAAAAAAFJI/7QBPh8s6xMc/s1600-h/motorola.jpg"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 400px;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_XTzX7NUBjh0/SlQjuWwdEfI/AAAAAAAAFJI/7QBPh8s6xMc/s400/motorola.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5355945136140128754" border="0" /></a>I watched <span style="font-size:180%;"><span style="color: rgb(51, 153, 153);">TV</span></span> during my early years on something just like this. Yes, ours even had a faux wood box {to match your furniture!}, turn dials, and {WHAT?!} no remote!!!<br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_XTzX7NUBjh0/SlQjtVz79pI/AAAAAAAAFJA/X7yzYTiO9-s/s1600-h/firsttv.jpg"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 350px; height: 248px;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_XTzX7NUBjh0/SlQjtVz79pI/AAAAAAAAFJA/X7yzYTiO9-s/s400/firsttv.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5355945118706431634" border="0" /></a>The <span style="font-size:180%;"><span style="color: rgb(51, 153, 153);">first computer</span></span> I ever used looked like this. Mind you, there was no internet quite yet. No searching Google for this or that. Instead we'd pull out the phone book to find a good plumber or the local pizza delivery.<br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_XTzX7NUBjh0/SlQjs0NjEKI/AAAAAAAAFI4/Xxh0Mbgt5G4/s1600-h/computer.jpg"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 300px; height: 400px;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_XTzX7NUBjh0/SlQjs0NjEKI/AAAAAAAAFI4/Xxh0Mbgt5G4/s400/computer.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5355945109687046306" border="0" /></a>Your Auntie Bea & I both begged for this one Christmas {and got it}, our first <span style="font-size:180%;"><span style="color: rgb(51, 153, 153);">Nintendo Gameboys</span></span>. This was how we played video games from anywhere, on a pixelated black & green screen, roughly 1.5" square.<br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_XTzX7NUBjh0/SlQjHSkzRlI/AAAAAAAAFIw/b7z0BdtV0m8/s1600-h/gameboy.jpg"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 241px; height: 380px;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_XTzX7NUBjh0/SlQjHSkzRlI/AAAAAAAAFIw/b7z0BdtV0m8/s400/gameboy.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5355944465002612306" border="0" /></a>And when people in my day wanted to listen to music "on the go", there was this handy invention - the <span style="font-size:180%;"><span style="color: rgb(51, 153, 153);">Sony Walkman</span></span>. You'd just pop your tape cassette in there, press play and - viola! - you're listening to music anywhere! If you wanted to repeat a song, all you had to do was hit the rewind button.... and hold it for 2-3 minutes. <a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj4k3LHel5vDYcHDxS0ouwbthImMnEKEeZq_TwKuuCl7g1wijDB-v-2Y0JVsidw3Vfj4WSlsYMQ03oV-jTR9rlJwft6epdeMuIyOgow1W6XhaPhQbyAYgw3f3AAQdNWvcu68K7MEwMphyphenhyphen8/s1600-h/walkman.jpg"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 225px; height: 279px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj4k3LHel5vDYcHDxS0ouwbthImMnEKEeZq_TwKuuCl7g1wijDB-v-2Y0JVsidw3Vfj4WSlsYMQ03oV-jTR9rlJwft6epdeMuIyOgow1W6XhaPhQbyAYgw3f3AAQdNWvcu68K7MEwMphyphenhyphen8/s400/walkman.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5355945250461222850" border="0" /></a>But *THEN*, my dear, was yet another great invention, one that came along when CDs overtook tape cassets: the <span style="font-size:180%;"><span style="color: rgb(51, 153, 153);">Sony Discman</span></span>! With this portable CD player, all you had to do was pop in a CD and press play. Later versions had skip protection, and that was a good thing...<br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_XTzX7NUBjh0/SlQjHIW62lI/AAAAAAAAFIo/_NbQVWWxfe0/s1600-h/discman.jpg"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 359px; height: 400px;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_XTzX7NUBjh0/SlQjHIW62lI/AAAAAAAAFIo/_NbQVWWxfe0/s400/discman.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5355944462260034130" border="0" /></a>And computers really got high tech when the <span style="font-size:180%;"><span style="color: rgb(51, 153, 153);">Mac Classic</span></span> rolled out. Notice the sleek mouse on this baby:<br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_XTzX7NUBjh0/SlQjG9fB-sI/AAAAAAAAFIg/lCVWGtAcQhM/s1600-h/apple2.jpg"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 342px;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_XTzX7NUBjh0/SlQjG9fB-sI/AAAAAAAAFIg/lCVWGtAcQhM/s400/apple2.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5355944459341265602" border="0" /></a>I remember how big a deal it was when we got our first <span style="font-size:180%;"><span style="color: rgb(51, 153, 153);">caller ID</span></span>! Now we could tell who was calling when the phone rang. It was utterly amazing technology.<br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_XTzX7NUBjh0/SlQjGuY0HcI/AAAAAAAAFIY/TJelZBvQeFo/s1600-h/callerid.jpg"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 280px; height: 280px;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_XTzX7NUBjh0/SlQjGuY0HcI/AAAAAAAAFIY/TJelZBvQeFo/s400/callerid.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5355944455288659394" border="0" /></a>And when someone called and we didn't have time to answer it, our handy-dandy <span style="font-size:180%;"><span style="color: rgb(51, 153, 153);">answering machine </span></span>allowed them to leave a message for us:<br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_XTzX7NUBjh0/SlQn_cm3bjI/AAAAAAAAFJw/wJkCQ4PQ7MA/s1600-h/answering-machine.jpg"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 325px; height: 400px;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_XTzX7NUBjh0/SlQn_cm3bjI/AAAAAAAAFJw/wJkCQ4PQ7MA/s400/answering-machine.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5355949827814813234" border="0" /></a>Mommy's first car was a <span style="font-size:180%;"><span style="color: rgb(51, 153, 153);">1986 Honda Civic</span></span>. My arms got toned that year from the lack of power steering.<br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhm7oKo2Mgz4JPpB0f-6td8E9V3QPsmZ-CozSRp9du9cLVfMNs-0MCiveYptT3tMReZg2bnxlqsKIpDVMro6qNWNIbALaQCL21D3HwbYOZTgD0F9VKXQcnCKy44wndU-uN_4nOxnHd9SU0/s1600-h/hondacivic.jpeg"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 240px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhm7oKo2Mgz4JPpB0f-6td8E9V3QPsmZ-CozSRp9du9cLVfMNs-0MCiveYptT3tMReZg2bnxlqsKIpDVMro6qNWNIbALaQCL21D3HwbYOZTgD0F9VKXQcnCKy44wndU-uN_4nOxnHd9SU0/s400/hondacivic.jpeg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5355944449737116066" border="0" /></a>When we wanted to watch a movie, there was no pay-per-view or on-demand place to simply download it. Instead, we hopped in the car and headed here, a <span style="font-size:180%;"><span style="color: rgb(51, 153, 153);">video rental store</span></span>:<br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_XTzX7NUBjh0/SlQlqf46ZTI/AAAAAAAAFJo/cQegI5Q9amE/s1600-h/avideorental.JPG"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 300px;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_XTzX7NUBjh0/SlQlqf46ZTI/AAAAAAAAFJo/cQegI5Q9amE/s400/avideorental.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5355947268895302962" border="0" /></a>And we rented this, a <span style="font-size:180%;"><span style="color: rgb(51, 153, 153);">VHS cassette</span></span>:<br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_XTzX7NUBjh0/SlQlqCrSTdI/AAAAAAAAFJg/shqEqhzu6e4/s1600-h/CareBearMovie2GOCBFCAL.jpg"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 229px;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_XTzX7NUBjh0/SlQlqCrSTdI/AAAAAAAAFJg/shqEqhzu6e4/s400/CareBearMovie2GOCBFCAL.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5355947261053521362" border="0" /></a>And we popped it in this, our <span style="font-size:180%;"><span style="color: rgb(51, 153, 153);">VCR</span></span>:<br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_XTzX7NUBjh0/SlQlp9gTLnI/AAAAAAAAFJY/GLRhNAtIat8/s1600-h/1502eject.gif"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 350px; height: 263px;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_XTzX7NUBjh0/SlQlp9gTLnI/AAAAAAAAFJY/GLRhNAtIat8/s400/1502eject.gif" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5355947259665264242" border="0" /></a><br />We've come a long way, Pies 1 & 2.... a loooong way.Heatherhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13093962932172006220noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8406919349904887846.post-949588586977679212010-06-17T13:50:00.000-07:002010-06-18T15:47:47.218-07:00{Little Baby}<div style="text-align: center;"><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_XTzX7NUBjh0/TBp9dxRiCmI/AAAAAAAAHNM/VK4Y2ywaFHg/s1600/SDC11508.JPG"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 300px;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_XTzX7NUBjh0/TBp9dxRiCmI/AAAAAAAAHNM/VK4Y2ywaFHg/s400/SDC11508.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5483833446673549922" border="0" /></a><span style="color: rgb(102, 102, 102);font-size:85%;" >{The pregnancy test I was given at the doctor - hugely positive, yay!}</span><br /></div><span style="color: rgb(51, 153, 153);font-size:180%;" ><br />{Dear Little Baby #2 - Whoever you are...}</span><br /><br /><span style="font-weight: bold; font-style: italic;">I love you.</span><br /><br />Up until now this blog & my life as a mother has been mostly all about Eisley. But now you are on your way as well, another sweet blessing in my life among all the others.<br /><br />It is still hard at this point to imagine loving another being as much as I love Eisley, but I know they say it is possible, and I know I will. Heck, already do. Don't ever forget it. Your momma loved you since the day she saw that faint pink line.<br /><br />You & I have something in common {other than DNA} in that we both have a big sister. Another thing in common is that we both have really wonderful, amazing big sisters. How lucky are we?<br /><br />Eisley is sometimes lonely and bored for a playmate and I know she will benefit so much from having you in her life.<br /><br />Little Baby #2, you were planned and you were so wanted. I feel incredibly blessed to have conceived two "first try" babies. I have known of too many deserving women who did not experience this "luxury" and so I do not take that fact for granted. And so I thank God for your existence and His plan for your life. Even if you are making me sick and exhausted. And overly-sentimental. Blame the hormones. They make me cry at every little thing...<br /><br />On the day I found out you existed I thought to myself, "God has smiled on me today!" I was just so excited and grateful.<br /><br />You are like a smile from God in my eyes.<br /><span style="font-size:180%;"><br />{Love, Mom}<br /></span>Heatherhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13093962932172006220noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8406919349904887846.post-91523192086061461882010-05-30T14:13:00.000-07:002010-05-30T14:25:06.515-07:00{Heaven on Earth}<div style="text-align: center;"><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_XTzX7NUBjh0/TALWnk_D1OI/AAAAAAAAHLs/lYen1ADagds/s1600/SDC11400+copy.jpg"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 300px;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_XTzX7NUBjh0/TALWnk_D1OI/AAAAAAAAHLs/lYen1ADagds/s400/SDC11400+copy.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5477176072267355362" border="0" /></a><span style="color: rgb(153, 51, 153);font-family:courier new;font-size:130%;" >I'm sorry, I can't help it.<br />I must share this beauty with you all.<br />These were all taken in our yard:</span><br /></div><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_XTzX7NUBjh0/TALWnTT_4PI/AAAAAAAAHLk/_DQ2GNp-euE/s1600/SDC11405.JPG"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 300px;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_XTzX7NUBjh0/TALWnTT_4PI/AAAAAAAAHLk/_DQ2GNp-euE/s400/SDC11405.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5477176067523338482" border="0" /></a><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_XTzX7NUBjh0/TALWawHpGfI/AAAAAAAAHLc/iP_cmjY1Ue4/s1600/SDC11384+copy.jpg"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 300px; height: 400px;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_XTzX7NUBjh0/TALWawHpGfI/AAAAAAAAHLc/iP_cmjY1Ue4/s400/SDC11384+copy.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5477175851917842930" border="0" /></a><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_XTzX7NUBjh0/TALWafohCpI/AAAAAAAAHLU/0PUZj-1vH40/s1600/SDC11386+copy.jpg"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 300px;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_XTzX7NUBjh0/TALWafohCpI/AAAAAAAAHLU/0PUZj-1vH40/s400/SDC11386+copy.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5477175847492323986" border="0" /></a><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_XTzX7NUBjh0/TALWaBCGlMI/AAAAAAAAHLM/3NU7INIKolY/s1600/SDC11383.JPG"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 300px;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_XTzX7NUBjh0/TALWaBCGlMI/AAAAAAAAHLM/3NU7INIKolY/s400/SDC11383.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5477175839278142658" border="0" /></a><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_XTzX7NUBjh0/TALWZ3e0DVI/AAAAAAAAHLE/c9zaKCwP4rU/s1600/SDC11347+copy.jpg"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 300px;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_XTzX7NUBjh0/TALWZ3e0DVI/AAAAAAAAHLE/c9zaKCwP4rU/s400/SDC11347+copy.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5477175836714208594" border="0" /></a><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_XTzX7NUBjh0/TALWZgHqVuI/AAAAAAAAHK8/vFVfFUt-6OI/s1600/SDC11342+copy.jpg"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; 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display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 300px;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_XTzX7NUBjh0/TALVXsMrQ2I/AAAAAAAAHJU/WnoinDBG6FQ/s400/SDC11354+copy.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5477174699813978978" border="0" /></a><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_XTzX7NUBjh0/TALVXD6RL1I/AAAAAAAAHJM/XuDSidloMqE/s1600/SDC11393+copy.jpg"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 300px;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_XTzX7NUBjh0/TALVXD6RL1I/AAAAAAAAHJM/XuDSidloMqE/s400/SDC11393+copy.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5477174688999354194" border="0" /></a><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_XTzX7NUBjh0/TALVWv1M4DI/AAAAAAAAHJE/98Oj97uOKjQ/s1600/SDC11404.JPG"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 300px;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_XTzX7NUBjh0/TALVWv1M4DI/AAAAAAAAHJE/98Oj97uOKjQ/s400/SDC11404.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5477174683609391154" border="0" /></a><br /><div style="text-align: center;"><span style="color: rgb(153, 51, 153);font-family:courier new;font-size:180%;" >Thanking God today for flowers.<br />The beauty is not missed on me...<br /></span></div>Heatherhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13093962932172006220noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8406919349904887846.post-5841596447041091152010-05-21T19:51:00.000-07:002010-05-21T22:18:19.328-07:00{This Day}<div style="text-align: justify;font-family:courier new;"><span style="font-size:130%;"><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_XTzX7NUBjh0/S_dNtCxPvRI/AAAAAAAAHHc/H8T3IEHfehU/s1600/SDC11279.JPG"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 300px; height: 400px;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_XTzX7NUBjh0/S_dNtCxPvRI/AAAAAAAAHHc/H8T3IEHfehU/s400/SDC11279.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5473929308325002514" border="0" /></a><span style="font-size:180%;"><br /><span style="color: rgb(51, 153, 153); font-weight: bold;">{Dear Eisley}</span><br /></span><br />Today was a good day.<br /><br />We all got out of bed at 9, and took daddy to work.<br /><br />Came home, you watched <a href="http://yogabbagabba.com/">your program</a> whilst I finished some <a href="http://larkandlola.blogspot.com/2010/05/new-for-2010.html">paper crowns</a>. When I was ready we drove off to Cherry Creek Mall where I sold them to <a href="http://www.shopcherrycreek.com/IM/storedetail.html?store=Z159">a lovely boutique</a> I've been working with. $10 a pop.<br /><br />You charmed the shop owners. They call you 'Sugar'.<br /><br />They said you were welcome anytime... I wondered if they'd say that after seeing one of your famous almost-two tantrums?<br /><br />But my main reason for being there {selling the crowns was a lovely bonus} was to deliver a garland to their employee {her son's name, for his first birthday}, who is one of the sweetest people I've ever met and she made me feel like a million bucks by hugging me three times and flooding my ears with flattery and encouragement. She made me feel embarrassed, in the embellished, <a href="http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=2bzU77zGDlI">Sally Fields sort of way</a>.<br /><br />We left, picked up daddy, <a href="http://illegalpetes.com/">grabbed lunch with him</a>. Used a rockin' coupon. {I love coupons.}<br /><br />And then it was naptime, and daddy left with the car to go back to work. Good day for him as well, about $3k in sales. I feel it's safe to say we are officially over the "slow season" with his work. Which is good because at one point this month we had $13 left in our bank. {When I had told my family that his commission this month was enough to pay bills and nothing more, I meant it.}<br /><br />But the <a href="http://www.biblegateway.com/passage/?search=Psalm+46%3A10&version=NIV">Good Lord</a> keeps putting finances in our hands {even though, so many times, we have mucked it up in the past}. I've been called for paying studies twice this month, and that very day we realized we had $13 left, the retailer called and demanded more crafts. Are these things luck? Coincidence?<a href="http://www.biblegateway.com/passage/?search=Matthew%206:25-34&version=NIV"> I think not. </a>I <span style="font-style: italic;">know they're </span>not!<br /><br />During naptime I crafted even more, this time for <a href="http://www.aparisstreetmarket.com/">the marke</a><a href="http://www.aparisstreetmarket.com/">t</a>, which I'm already having nightmares about... Then I spent two hours cleaning, dragging myself away from Twitter because I knew that later I'd be mad at myself if I didn't. In all honesty, I mostly like cleaning... don't tell your daddy that.<br /><br />So daddy came home to a mostly clean house, and you woke up. Then suddenly, <a href="http://allrecipes.com/Recipe/Beer-Bread-I/Detail.aspx">the best bread in the world</a> was in the oven {a 3 ingredient, 5 minute recipe that tastes </span><span style="font-style: italic; font-weight: bold;font-size:130%;" >delish</span><span style="font-size:130%;">}, <a href="http://thepioneerwoman.com/cooking/2009/08/the-best-baked-beans-ever/">Pioneer Woman's baked beans</a> cooking on the stove, and kabobs on the grill.<br /><br />For once it's our house that is making the rest of the neighbor's mouths water {usually it's us}.<br /><br />We have our beers to drink and you have your $1 glow sticks from Michael's, running around the yard in the dark, cool almost-summer night.<br /><br />And then I look at you and you're so beautiful and cute and perfect....<br /><br />and this whole day,<br /><br />this life,<br /><br />this charmed,<br /><br />undeserved life,<br /><br />but mostly you -<br /><br />it all makes me think<br /><br />in a overly corny, Hallmark card type way...<br /><br />This is the life.<br /><br />These things can change in an instant, though, I'm old enough to know that. So I'm savoring this beauty that is life while I can. But...<br /><br /><br />... perhaps someday, <a href="http://www.oprah.com/showinfo/Former-First-Lady-Laura-Bush-Plus-Twins-Jenna-and-Barbara">just like Laura Bush</a>, I will watch you walk down the aisle...<br /><br />looking <a href="http://tuttlebrewd.blogspot.com/2010/05/best-of-times.html">lovely like my only cousin did</a> last week at her wedding...<br /><br />and again I will think -<br /><br /><span style="font-weight: bold;">"This is the life."</span><br /><br />once again.<br /><br />?<br /><span style="font-weight: bold; color: rgb(51, 153, 153);font-size:180%;" ><br />{Love, Mom - aka 'The Sentimentalist'}</span><br /></span></div>Heatherhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13093962932172006220noreply@blogger.com4