tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-73146400440386901392024-02-20T18:59:55.937-08:00Our 3 ring circusLizhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13222488604258748311noreply@blogger.comBlogger107125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7314640044038690139.post-6917370959200164122012-06-07T16:34:00.000-07:002012-06-07T16:34:01.141-07:00Time is a speeding bullet<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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The other day Connor found a hose attachment that looks like a much smaller version of a fire hose. I have no clue where it came from, we find a lot of random things around here. (It is an old house.) He proceeded to stand in the backyard pointing his "firehose" to the sky and laughing hysterically. It was the absolutely best laugh. The sound of my little guys complete joy just made my heart skip a beat. Those are the moments that you want to never forget. Connor's at that age where everyday they say and do funny things. Even the silly faces he makes convey so much. But I don't know how to capture that in a way that I will never lose. I know there will come a time when my children are far away and my memory is less than sharp, and I will struggle to remember those wonderful moments, instead of all the things that make old ladies cranky. A picture just doesn't capture it perfectly enough. Connor somehow manages to stop doing the adorable thing I never want to forget, and revert to his standby Paulitz smile (its not our best feature.) It's like a rectangular smile. It's pretty awkward. And I'm not a good enough writer to capture it with words. Sure I can write down the funny things he says, if I haven't forgotten them by the time I get a chance. But I lack that skill that allows writers to capture an image so perfectly, you can see it in your head.<br />
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My favorite is his quirky facial expressions. He does all of these silly things with his eyes that say much more than he ever does. His mouth too. I think that all of that time when he couldn't communicate with us led him to make up his own way. Plus nothing gets a good laugh like Con's "that's weird or that's funny" He'll make this great expression by lifting his eyebrows way up, bugging out his eyes, and moving his eyes around all crazy. All this without a word. He follows this with a completely straight faced, "that funny." <br />
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Con is all boy. Every game he plays involves fighting, Star Wars, army guys, and of course super heroes. He's pretty sure he has actual super powers, including flying and that Iron Man power hand thing. Surprisingly, we haven't been to the ER in a while. His latest incarnation is "bubble man." He stomps around the bathtub, covered in soap singing, "I am bubble man" in his sternest voice. Every few steps he stops to do his Iron Man fire power hand thing. This is usually followed by Dave and I chiming in with a rousing rendition of Black Sabbath's "Iron Man", substituting the words "bubble man", of course.<br />
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But Connor is still a sweet mama's boy. My boys love to snuggle up with me, Greg is big on drive-by hugs, he needs his mommy fix. Con never goes to sleep without giving me a good-night kiss. Every night when I kiss the boys goodnight, I know the day is fast coming that I'll be lucky to get a Paulitz butterfly hug. Before I know it, they'll be leaving for missions and I'll finally have time for that mental breakdown. Isn't it funny that all the times in our lives when we want time to hurry up, it waits. And when we want it to stop, it runs so fast we can't catch it. Kinda like my kids.Lizhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13222488604258748311noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7314640044038690139.post-85231332339494297762012-03-24T14:35:00.000-07:002012-03-24T14:35:35.811-07:00PatienceI've been thinking about spouses lately. Being married requires a lot of patience. I'd say it's in one of my top five important things to a successful marriage. Of course I usually think of this in terms of how much patience is required on my part. I could probably make a long list of things about my husband that drive me crazy. Whenever I find myself particularly annoyed I have this mental picture of myself as Debora from "Everybody Loves Raymond", rolling her eyes and muttering "idiot". Now I know this makes me sound like a mean wife, and I fully acknowledge that I, as my boss so delicately put it, "have a low bulls**t tolerance." I just see it how I see it, and feel free to share accordingly. Somehow this has gotten me thinking me about the things I do that maybe, just maybe, cause Dave to exercise a great deal of patience. In no particular order, this ones for you babe:<br />
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* Dave does not like to spend money. What he spends on shoes, hair, and clothes in a year equals about 12 weeks of haircuts, coloring, and product.<br />
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* Before mentioned dislike of spending money. When we got married, he had money for my ring in cash. He'd been saving because he knew eventually he would meet the right girl. I spend money the second it lands in my greedy little paws.<br />
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* Dave has not had closet space since we got married. In every place we've lived, he has had to share closet space with the kids. We know have a rather large closet, he has part of a rod.<br />
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* I am a huge whiner. If I don't feel well everyone around me knows it. If I get a debilitating headache, I will not quietly retire to my room, I will sit on the couch with ice on my head demanding that everyone be silent. (In my defense, laying down does tend to make it way worse.)<br />
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* Dave can be up and out the door in 15 minutes if need be. I take an hour to get myself together, not to mention the time it takes me to wake up in bed, wake up on the couch, and eat.<br />
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* We are never on time to church. Or anywhere else for that matter. Case in point: our children don't really know what happens the first 10 minutes of church.<br />
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* I view the speed limit as a suggestion. I don't think why this bothers him needs explaining.<br />
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* I will flat out ignore him for a good book. If he's lucky I'll nod once in awhile when he says something.<br />
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* I will ignore everything I should be doing for a good book. When I first read the Twilight series, I didn't do <u>anything</u> the whole time. I would nurse Connor while I read, make Greg pbj's while I read. When people wanted dinner, I would pick the farthest restaurant I could think of, and read while Dave drove us there. Mind you I get extremely car sick, but it was totally worth it.<br />
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* I'm slightly bossy.<br />
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* And just a little opinionated.<br />
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* I am pretty much unable to finish a project. Which means there are constantly projects in various states all over the house. He usually just wordlessly moves them around.<br />
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* I usually load the movie que. I like rom coms, foreign films, and weird documentaries. If you know Dave, nuff said.<br />
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* I have tons of clothes, shoes, coats etc. I leave them all over our room and the house (no one else is allowed to do this btw) yet I never have anything to wear. <br />
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* I have too many shoes to fit in my shoe shelves. He has zero shoe shelves, I have several overflowing. <br />
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* I refuse to mow the lawn, check the oil, or change a tire. I don't like manual labor.<br />
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* I make him run just about every purchase by me, this rule does not go both ways.<br />
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* I make a lot of random references to books or Star trek. If he doesn't get it, I tell him the whole story, in detail.<br />
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* If I'm on the computer and need to do something that requires me plugging in a card or cord that I might have to move to get, I either don't do it, or make him do it. I'll insist on keeping windows open until I get whatever it is printed. This rule also applies to getting my phone or a drink, if I'm on the couch. When he met me, my roommates called me T-Rex and he knew why. So I don't feel too bad about this. <br />
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* I laugh at totally inappropriate situations. Like wrecking the car or majorly over drawing the check book.<br />
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* When I hit the side of the garage with the expensive, heated mirror of our new (to us) car, I hit the gas and kept going. Ripping the thing off in the process. Then laughed hysterically. Dave did not.<br />
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* I make ten holes in the wall to hang one thing. Then I hang it crooked and/or wrong, so he has to fix it.<br />
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I could probably make a much longer list if I thought harder, and took a poll. But I'm way too lazy. My dad always compares marrying off his daughters, to selling an old used car. You love it, and are sad to see it go, but you're glad to not have to deal with its problems and quirks anymore. I'm pretty sure that after 14 years of marriage Dave gets the joke now. <br />
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhsJiQ40r5_n1z1EfGich_UxGRC6VoVoobqi3piGQdCE1tnFkKCBFKX42mI5EnNbVUayzOmaAAgx5jbt_dC0KK9XpsnuolGwnBqFWMC2I7mg-TCCODBQoM5ykQMfgauhMr6SFqYzv9n2sQ/s1600/DSCF0298.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhsJiQ40r5_n1z1EfGich_UxGRC6VoVoobqi3piGQdCE1tnFkKCBFKX42mI5EnNbVUayzOmaAAgx5jbt_dC0KK9XpsnuolGwnBqFWMC2I7mg-TCCODBQoM5ykQMfgauhMr6SFqYzv9n2sQ/s320/DSCF0298.JPG" width="320" /></a></div>Lizhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13222488604258748311noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7314640044038690139.post-27043848929692767052012-03-21T12:07:00.000-07:002012-03-21T12:07:08.291-07:00Aunt TaraThis past week my aunt Tara lost her 5 year battle with breast cancer. They threw everything they had at it, but sometimes cancer is more stubborn than us. She leaves behind a husband and 4 beautiful girls. The two oldest are heading into their teens, and are promising to be stunners like their mother. Tara was very gracious, accomplished, and classy. Her husband is my dad's younger brother Kevin. When we were kids, Kevin was the fun, bachelor uncle. He was the epitome of cool. He went to Harvard, he lived in an apartment near the beach, he had a cool car (which to us meant not a minivan or station wagon). Heck he lived in California, which was pretty much the coolest thing I could think of. Kevin would fly two of us kids down at a time for a week filled with fun and all the amusement parks a kid could want. But Kevin was still a Paulitz. Which means major dorkdom. Paulitz's are not smooth, in the best of social situations. We are nerdy, clumsy, and lack any sort of filter on what we say. So you can imagine my shock when, my senior year of high school, Kevin married Tara. That he had somehow landed this woman, was beyond my imagination. Our family joke is that we are the Idaho hillbillys. We felt even more hillbilly-ish sitting in the backyard of Kevin and Tara's townhouse at their rehersal dinner. I remember being so impressed with how beautiful and elegant she made everything. I was fascinated by how easy and seamless she made it seem too. She even had outdoor heaters when it cooled off in the evening. I thought she must be some sort of genius, she had every little touch in place PLUS OUTDOOR HEATERS! I was seriously impressed by that rehersal dinner, because it was the sort of thing I'd love to hose, but never would. At the time, I was getting ready to go off to college, I thought if could just end up like her...Then I realized that I don't have an elegant or classy bone in my body and gave that up. In her last years, I think Tara did everything she could to make sure she wouldn't have any regrets. She knew her time on this earth was limited, but she didn't let it stop her. She is leaving her girls with many beautiful memories. I hope that she is at peace with her Lord, and happy with the life she lived. Kevin was lucky to have landed such a kind and classy woman, and I'm pretty sure they both know it.Lizhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13222488604258748311noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7314640044038690139.post-85777186896781698572012-03-06T00:43:00.000-08:002012-03-06T00:43:43.107-08:00Warning: Kids speed the aging process<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"></div> Tonight, while hunting through some photo albums I found this picture. My first thought was, man I look young, this must have been taken after one of the girls. No such luck. I had just had Connor, after 5 days in the hospital. Sure I look tired, but I look a lot younger than this...<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj2BzrQ2tazHCrAxRSItRV3a0h6GF9ohWqr8l29NhNp5_0nMtQV3ElFcXCWs54QDA61xs5efwbEGl6m5Lb4HduexzdxEvqJEVGdnLU_sUSddKMS0Cm0PTxC4nAogd4OiqoTWuSOeqaxmlk/s1600/100_0910.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj2BzrQ2tazHCrAxRSItRV3a0h6GF9ohWqr8l29NhNp5_0nMtQV3ElFcXCWs54QDA61xs5efwbEGl6m5Lb4HduexzdxEvqJEVGdnLU_sUSddKMS0Cm0PTxC4nAogd4OiqoTWuSOeqaxmlk/s320/100_0910.jpg" width="320" /></a></div> Me and my Con man at 3 years old. It seems like I look a decade older. I have wrinkles, ginormous bags under my eyes. I just look, I don't know, soccer mom-ish. Like next I'm going to stick all of my kids in hockey and run for vice president. My hair looks better, but my face, egads, OLD. You know how you look at your kids as newborns, then as preschoolers and kindergarteners and think, wow, look how much they've changed. They look so much older. Yeah, I think it works that way for moms too.<br />
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Coincidentally, this would be Connor a few hours old. Notice that nah, nah, nah, tongue sticking out at the camera like, screw you parents I'm going to do whatever I want. That would be very much my son. Maybe that's why I look so old.<br />
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</div>Lizhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13222488604258748311noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7314640044038690139.post-70698243996430570172012-03-04T23:51:00.000-08:002012-03-04T23:51:03.765-08:00One for the TrekkiesSeems as how I was raised in a house of Trekkies, I think it's only fair that I give Star Trek a fair shot in this household of Star Wars fanatics. We have watched the old Star Wars movies so many times, Dave can now recite what the characters say before they speak. Having recently acquired the newer ones, they are now the boys main obsession. When Greg found out he could go on a Star Wars ride, and a Mater ride in the same day at Disneyland, the kid nearly peed his pants. <br />
So the other day when Dave made the horrid error of calling William Shatner "Kirk Picard" I realized that something had to be done. Due to the fact that our local Blockbuster is sadly (tear) being closed, we are switching to Netflix. Which means we can stream through the almighty Wii. Which means that we can now stream Star Trek movies. Which means we will now have forced family fun night of watching Star Trek movies. Yeah!! It's just a matter of time before the kids have turned to the Dark Side. There is no reason we can't love both equally. Besides, let's face it, my children are doomed to be nerds. It's genetic.Lizhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13222488604258748311noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7314640044038690139.post-90859596133235528432012-02-17T23:27:00.000-08:002012-02-17T23:27:21.391-08:00The best feeling in the worldConnor has turned into Mr. Clingy. He always wants to be carried and sit on my lap. Of course he gets away with it because he is the baby. He has a hard time falling asleep at night by himself. He likes to sleep with "Gweggy", but Greg doesn't always want to share his twin bed with his brother. So I sometimes lay with him until he gets relaxed enough to fall asleep. (the kid gets really hyper when he's tired) Tonight as he was falling asleep, he was sucking his thumb with one hand, and rubbing my face with the other. I'm thinking to myself how sweet this moment was. I felt so at peace with the world for that moment with my little boy. Those are the moments that I try to catalog in my brain in hopes that I will never forget them. He rolled over, and scooted back to me. He seemed very relaxed, and as he was snuggling right up to me, I figured he was on the verge of falling asleep. Then he farts on me and rolls away laughing. The little stinker just wanted to fart of me! Sadly, he really enjoys farting on people. So much for sweet moments. Ahh boys.Lizhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13222488604258748311noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7314640044038690139.post-28589434538704023702012-02-11T22:14:00.000-08:002012-02-11T22:14:52.797-08:00The Ha is 9Hailey has always been our most challenging child. Regardless of all the other stuff, she is a strong, determined, and interesting child. She's the kid who will one minute infuriate you, and the next crack you up. She has such a sweet, loving spirit. Even when she's mad at you, she still loves you to death. (I literally mean to death, she will squeeze you until you are gasping for breath.)<br />
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgYTW3Jbe41cBCxDGDJO-q24f7zs9P5T-32Qk7hgQMMUy5YjX3wJeFFbLgsJklYRw0XihQFAEDLw4MbIBq2q8IduhY3ICTllHWnizuCU2aNvQh4O24r3_Rc9qt0035Nz5GlmPXizANGfQQ/s1600/100_5685.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgYTW3Jbe41cBCxDGDJO-q24f7zs9P5T-32Qk7hgQMMUy5YjX3wJeFFbLgsJklYRw0XihQFAEDLw4MbIBq2q8IduhY3ICTllHWnizuCU2aNvQh4O24r3_Rc9qt0035Nz5GlmPXizANGfQQ/s320/100_5685.JPG" width="213" /></a></div> Hailey has always had her own, distinct sense of style. If it's sparkly, glittered, or shiny, she will wear it. She'll probably beg me to buy it. She got the sequined boots for Christmas, and the sequined dress and purse from my sister. Basically, if it has sequins or sparkles, Hailey will love it. We are talking about a kid who has pleather leggings here.<br />
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiiw8W_mo2GMNfL_PoM0PiMMuchtpMI_K_hNLvt66LtQ3f5tcTXvdHkjT9S0NCDE5p9lsqne5dnBxsYj2UxczvRYoQU2Z_DWqKCR-5LOVkJQTvRzCVLZxVgHWE6b_U-VS8KUHjN8tQgy1E/s1600/100_4712.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiiw8W_mo2GMNfL_PoM0PiMMuchtpMI_K_hNLvt66LtQ3f5tcTXvdHkjT9S0NCDE5p9lsqne5dnBxsYj2UxczvRYoQU2Z_DWqKCR-5LOVkJQTvRzCVLZxVgHWE6b_U-VS8KUHjN8tQgy1E/s320/100_4712.JPG" width="240" /></a></div> More unique Hailey stylings. She has been referred to as Pippi Longstocking for a reason.<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiFLV82NwOzaw6a8YoQ-CK8jLIVPZyWfpTdZYSxtDOzv6tPVQ-tAfg_58LRknfZuXMiZboKAf4vvlcloKEu6VnsZ1r6LBk9QcxF_lNQi3i9FCHY14ydlyWGCnIW_6gCZgEhWm2Y5oDeuK4/s1600/100B4870.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiFLV82NwOzaw6a8YoQ-CK8jLIVPZyWfpTdZYSxtDOzv6tPVQ-tAfg_58LRknfZuXMiZboKAf4vvlcloKEu6VnsZ1r6LBk9QcxF_lNQi3i9FCHY14ydlyWGCnIW_6gCZgEhWm2Y5oDeuK4/s320/100B4870.JPG" width="320" /></a></div>Hailey is a great athlete. She obviously does not get them from me. I think she has found her niche in life. She has a lot of enthusiasm and energy, and she's not afraid to get hurt. Which works in her favor on the soccer field works in her favor. If only we could find a way to channel her extraordinary energyv 12 months of the year.<br />
Hailey is truly a special child. There are a lot of things about her that few people understand. But she has a HUGE heart, and love's people to the fullest.Lizhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13222488604258748311noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7314640044038690139.post-71754611013734501662012-02-09T23:39:00.000-08:002012-02-09T23:39:12.957-08:00Connor's 4 now! (How did this happen?)I don't know how, but Connor turned 4 in January. It seems like just last year I had him, and we moved to Spokane. He has turned into quite the character. He is basically a miniature Dave. He looks like a little Dave, he's all boy. None of that tiny, nerdy Paulitz genes here. Where Greg's all space and math, Con's all wrestling and sports.<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjdK-0Ez4976k41cD9QTwGChI_ASlRSnppkqr3Kt0wHxkYTI8VYTXoNq9SVMUgkp-IqNt9Didn21HHKlS25AAkmx0GrcnkZvJ8HPRrhg7Vlp5RN1CDItH9Qyc8Cs3JfzVvULw6AXAVhIOI/s1600/DSCF0436.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjdK-0Ez4976k41cD9QTwGChI_ASlRSnppkqr3Kt0wHxkYTI8VYTXoNq9SVMUgkp-IqNt9Didn21HHKlS25AAkmx0GrcnkZvJ8HPRrhg7Vlp5RN1CDItH9Qyc8Cs3JfzVvULw6AXAVhIOI/s320/DSCF0436.JPG" width="240" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Notice the unbuttoned pants: Connor prefers sweats or unbuttoned pants so that he can enjoy the luxury of waiting until the absolute last moment to use the bathroom.</td></tr>
</tbody></table><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhY5AmYfrBVsV1UwkR4k1j5a0PGUA7iVYpgjcqEV5r1O6S7clww5KDrL999-QEFbTCSwD-y6QeacX6dJ4EGIRXTj7PfxSEoeMPomos_ZQiNizg2dDI0aQCoP31YqpAllEK_8ttr16SFNiM/s1600/100_5688.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhY5AmYfrBVsV1UwkR4k1j5a0PGUA7iVYpgjcqEV5r1O6S7clww5KDrL999-QEFbTCSwD-y6QeacX6dJ4EGIRXTj7PfxSEoeMPomos_ZQiNizg2dDI0aQCoP31YqpAllEK_8ttr16SFNiM/s320/100_5688.JPG" width="212" /></a></div> Ahh, the Superman costume. I found it at the Value Village late this summer, thinking it would be something fun Con could dress up in from time to time. Ha! He wore the costume day in, day out, like it was regular clothes. He would proudly tromp around town in that too small, well worn, Superman costume with camoflouge rain boots. It was way to small and paper thin (from wearing it every single day). For Christmas, I made him a sad, but less ragged, bigger, Superman costume, which he has refused to ever wear. So, for his birthday, my mom ordered the child a larger, less sad Superman costume. Within a few days, it was well worn and now means repairing. It doesn't get the same wear and tear as the old ( I think because it's not flannel like the toddler version) but still. When you have a kid wearing a Superman costume like it's real clothes, you get some looks. But as my dad says, I'm a free range parent.<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgVxJcDQH76lAoSmcrksqJQeE81OetGiV0YH3oo3aX62E9OR1TUVuksRSXMIOQtuYM6HmC15vz5tonm78m3KS2VXWpSZFkahkJa7lLqfoLvW_AhhyphenhyphenUl9vyjb2EtPu65ihHIaPPm8hyOaxs/s1600/100_5663.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgVxJcDQH76lAoSmcrksqJQeE81OetGiV0YH3oo3aX62E9OR1TUVuksRSXMIOQtuYM6HmC15vz5tonm78m3KS2VXWpSZFkahkJa7lLqfoLvW_AhhyphenhyphenUl9vyjb2EtPu65ihHIaPPm8hyOaxs/s320/100_5663.JPG" width="320" /></a></div>Somehow, this is the only picture I could find of Con initiating a fight. The kid always wants to fight. If you offer to read him a story, he'll say "let's fight!" Which pretty much consists of him trying to punch and tackle you, while you remain defenseless. He is such a boy. I mean, the child hums himself to sleep with the Imperial March. Such a funny boy. He holds such a spot in my heart, I'm pretty sure he can't ever move out.Lizhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13222488604258748311noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7314640044038690139.post-64763898716495518642012-01-23T22:51:00.000-08:002012-01-23T22:51:06.071-08:00Greg's 6th birthday<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjuHU7P4QxBDbOa9uIAUPHg6Hfl5Wk1KxlpTQuFLiqKNtYVBk75g9Eoz67KBhgBgLQK4-E9kU02vybokmzed4wloy3JgRlCRX9MNH1OJ5aBRUGeADV3EH0P29S1SInZKDCurvxVhUZTXho/s320/100_5610.JPG" width="240" /></div>Greggers had his 6th birthday back in November. It's hard to believe he is already 6, it seems like it was just last year that I had him. Obviously, he had a Star Wars party since it is his new obsession. Tonight he was like "I don't know why but I've just been really into Star Wars lately." He was so serious about it, like it was a life changing decision. He is such a serious, mild mannered little boy. I am always hearing from his church and school teacher what a great kid he is. I've come to the conclusion, Greg is just a unique boy. He was the perfect spirit to come to me during a very difficult time.<br />
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjbr7mlZhvqrU2tDzhdRR9wEqyek5IUANRsZM5Pgse22nLV8qB6ANKreskbRNblBaEKSXGu6K7XwSEoJfaA_kKvpwnHgNG1sZjotftx_-5nakg9vrM9zAqSbOYDka4Hucz2L14OG8EOjcc/s1600/100_5607.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjbr7mlZhvqrU2tDzhdRR9wEqyek5IUANRsZM5Pgse22nLV8qB6ANKreskbRNblBaEKSXGu6K7XwSEoJfaA_kKvpwnHgNG1sZjotftx_-5nakg9vrM9zAqSbOYDka4Hucz2L14OG8EOjcc/s320/100_5607.JPG" width="320" /></a></div> My sad attempt at a yoda cake. I am forever trying to copy cakes I find online, with dismal results.<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgMeAS2uJDAsDqCyiaAtNnh4COWvNzJPcewHfvZxL5lGOZSt272TsTR_bMYj-hDINXCYx15MG8nal-PD7osrnC1dWa3yKbIO759bblSFj_v4P2fLrFn8GCmQmMATEbRNJ3ZfXSLQnQbHbs/s1600/100_5601.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgMeAS2uJDAsDqCyiaAtNnh4COWvNzJPcewHfvZxL5lGOZSt272TsTR_bMYj-hDINXCYx15MG8nal-PD7osrnC1dWa3yKbIO759bblSFj_v4P2fLrFn8GCmQmMATEbRNJ3ZfXSLQnQbHbs/s320/100_5601.JPG" width="320" /></a></div>My little "dream boat." He has become the crush of Ness Elementary kindergarten. Funny story from a mom at school. She was on a field trip with the class, her daughter kept hitting her on the leg trying to get her attention. When her mom finally looked at her, she said "mom look there's Gregory, isn't he dreamy?" I feel like this is going to be the story of Greg's school career with girls.Lizhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13222488604258748311noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7314640044038690139.post-69310791230603041212012-01-02T21:28:00.000-08:002012-01-02T21:28:52.366-08:00A Very Star Wars Christmas<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj2gjKS4U8u3CXI1KoPFOXWaAWtOw7KrMPQIU7_cf3UdBU_55w5A2BSQfv8KnCb5-X1l0WXjgpn9xnmlJHyPrW9eTsiMdnNtWDr4s4KIb2Yt0SfVhQ3cHFhK2LJfg6BFwsRCR-cR4t7320/s320/100_5660.JPG" width="320" /></div> My little brother and his beautiful family came up from L.A. to spend Christmas with us. Jonathan is my first nephew on my side of the family and he is so stinkin cute. It was so great to see them, I never get to see them because they live so far away.<br />
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhKDHN5C-ZE-BIIIIAA6yy1iL5fQNXRW1wmdynDfsAmu0el-srQJ_5bHiPvRG1qrwUugDwP94Tu45bUWBownfe4njvT2jsFjXGtsd-a0k_aYs6Fw7_wVltQigrgnUIKDVAO_u5Gqld4yxQ/s1600/100_5644.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhKDHN5C-ZE-BIIIIAA6yy1iL5fQNXRW1wmdynDfsAmu0el-srQJ_5bHiPvRG1qrwUugDwP94Tu45bUWBownfe4njvT2jsFjXGtsd-a0k_aYs6Fw7_wVltQigrgnUIKDVAO_u5Gqld4yxQ/s320/100_5644.JPG" width="320" /></a></div> We go for the put on every decoration you have own, in the most haphazard manner possible approach to tree decorating. Because of our schedules, we cut a tree down from a farm instead of traipsing through the forest. It felt a little like cheating, getting a ride on a hay ride to where the trees are. But we got a very full tree, which means we can stuff even more decorations on it. Connor did an especially great job with the decorating. He managed to cover every single inch of the tree, exactly in the center, right at his height. There was this huge clump of ornaments right where he stood, and he was so proud.<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhoqtQ4ym_Hzz9EqQdTqDHulbbGGwGOmbLYBJLyKv1fwuUsJPoFAdPBnc9mRqVymN5eDy4xijRou4fM3EvB3Cgp8OHE7P9HHYKZAhyqnnPB3_rRRmOvrhaWQiN889AQkq0tp6pqMvSY0R4/s1600/100_5641.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhoqtQ4ym_Hzz9EqQdTqDHulbbGGwGOmbLYBJLyKv1fwuUsJPoFAdPBnc9mRqVymN5eDy4xijRou4fM3EvB3Cgp8OHE7P9HHYKZAhyqnnPB3_rRRmOvrhaWQiN889AQkq0tp6pqMvSY0R4/s320/100_5641.JPG" width="240" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Hailey helping me make cookies. </td></tr>
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhBuJ5Wef8IPiZJ2zrc7-3WsQ1gqQ0Alyfx5h08p1RpjJvMcaeTV7culvXfQGvbn-h5p2z5kQ_ssWHmsTDOTD0jNGyVer5Sp2rNnEoCnq-x6uVzLALlr5XMb5g4cnzvwu897ynW4ApUxj0/s1600/100_5638.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhBuJ5Wef8IPiZJ2zrc7-3WsQ1gqQ0Alyfx5h08p1RpjJvMcaeTV7culvXfQGvbn-h5p2z5kQ_ssWHmsTDOTD0jNGyVer5Sp2rNnEoCnq-x6uVzLALlr5XMb5g4cnzvwu897ynW4ApUxj0/s320/100_5638.JPG" width="240" /></a></div> I let Greggers dip some oreos himself (don't worry he washed his hands first) and Con got his favorite job, putting on ridiculous quantities of sprinkles.<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEizEtUs-exh8bQKH2iKacSvifxOH7grzEXwHeoQFUphPdjrHQTyw9cwEA9XIb61K4GEUEwjWsSo7-hiU2BS7x_sgnnSZ2gKvaL6BwTQGP6lg0dRkn3FPVUUmEk54NpBvJi5NgFUaFZP4RA/s1600/100_5642.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEizEtUs-exh8bQKH2iKacSvifxOH7grzEXwHeoQFUphPdjrHQTyw9cwEA9XIb61K4GEUEwjWsSo7-hiU2BS7x_sgnnSZ2gKvaL6BwTQGP6lg0dRkn3FPVUUmEk54NpBvJi5NgFUaFZP4RA/s320/100_5642.JPG" width="240" /></a></div> This is what happens when you leave a 3 year old in the kitchen while you go give a nebulizer treatment. Connor my little stinker, dumped the entire bottle of sprinkles in my dipping chocolate. Then used the empty container to scoop water into the chocolate. Ruining a whole pan of good chocolate and making a huge mess.<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjWJFoN8y0zMJbpbH-q57osA1S78qYrGimAyziSggQzyuSR2YDirDAVE6oB3y4qxSq25MUKx-p4iVmnd8g-CwX8350b8KepfvYjNFJ6QOoK3wH9GlSrE5Fuc3V-tWl3gZ10GQ5Qo_ZBF7E/s1600/100_5658.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjWJFoN8y0zMJbpbH-q57osA1S78qYrGimAyziSggQzyuSR2YDirDAVE6oB3y4qxSq25MUKx-p4iVmnd8g-CwX8350b8KepfvYjNFJ6QOoK3wH9GlSrE5Fuc3V-tWl3gZ10GQ5Qo_ZBF7E/s320/100_5658.JPG" width="320" /></a></div> You know how there's always those presents you just can't wait for the recipient to open because you know how much they'll love it? I was so excited to give my brother his Christmas gift this year. Carl is a pretty serious Pepsi lover. (I guess the love of Pepsi products is genetic) He also loves to whole himself up in his room, only emerging when absolutely necessary. So my sister and I got Carl his own mini fridge for his room. I knew there was nothing he'd love more than to be able to keep his Pepsi stash right where he can reach it from his chair.<br />
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgqQJkAUz9mAD9Yr3J4Lps8ocRfGf-7SnUq3Xhth3iIjWaMaP8kFm6UZ-NQymTRPGtgY0KvG8uq4xnUB5btr-biTU_NdQyKz57mWS4tQoz54AqcGWnPC9Q6c8n_NIIr5CA_Ha99-NXuRo0/s1600/100_5652.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgqQJkAUz9mAD9Yr3J4Lps8ocRfGf-7SnUq3Xhth3iIjWaMaP8kFm6UZ-NQymTRPGtgY0KvG8uq4xnUB5btr-biTU_NdQyKz57mWS4tQoz54AqcGWnPC9Q6c8n_NIIr5CA_Ha99-NXuRo0/s320/100_5652.JPG" width="320" /></a></div> Star Wars has officially taken over our house. Greg now tells everyone he sees that he got a Millenium Falcon for Christmas. Be prepared to be appropriately excited about this. Of course the Star Wars guys need a place to hold their next battle.<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiviO1CMEP3AKa9WncFIciJQVA42uM4VCYllfKB8jmyGJAmuBEhPQ0ZVonLpC8f6h58wn7RxhdcJqeI6AmU4R7SivI7MMzscpSD0AL1NZbFAOu90TwcNM5Az8O5uqD79jiz4YheUzVlPfw/s1600/100_5612.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiviO1CMEP3AKa9WncFIciJQVA42uM4VCYllfKB8jmyGJAmuBEhPQ0ZVonLpC8f6h58wn7RxhdcJqeI6AmU4R7SivI7MMzscpSD0AL1NZbFAOu90TwcNM5Az8O5uqD79jiz4YheUzVlPfw/s320/100_5612.JPG" width="320" /></a></div> We stole the Campbell's tradition of sleeping under the Christmas tree. Only Dave and I got smart and sleep in our own bed. Why would grown adults voluntarily sleep on a hardwood floor? Kids are watching Return of the Jedi for the 10th time since they got it for christmas.<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjV_uuLBDzwQFmoowwMAeOTg2hfMXf5WYPXvNlexoWq58ACsEdtUpcl8L35RExCowWZ7U4FHS0_A_RK33O0lxqpvzxM6Z4DNLTSht5P6YM3rRGvU5UsYlKko5GVj3CM67SCKELs3BPBs_M/s1600/100_5675.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjV_uuLBDzwQFmoowwMAeOTg2hfMXf5WYPXvNlexoWq58ACsEdtUpcl8L35RExCowWZ7U4FHS0_A_RK33O0lxqpvzxM6Z4DNLTSht5P6YM3rRGvU5UsYlKko5GVj3CM67SCKELs3BPBs_M/s320/100_5675.JPG" width="320" /></a></div><br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjBEMvc3dRRDCTM1_QtlVU9L88SNDlzIIjkJmL496_9R4DZxWOfBqKTr5vpKboi8_IDdulUly0JkZVTMOOThwuQ4KIUNFGLU3-UlCJwaFGuaz7vke2wPs9YhqzFMG4ynlfQbRHvmNHI3E4/s1600/100_5674.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjBEMvc3dRRDCTM1_QtlVU9L88SNDlzIIjkJmL496_9R4DZxWOfBqKTr5vpKboi8_IDdulUly0JkZVTMOOThwuQ4KIUNFGLU3-UlCJwaFGuaz7vke2wPs9YhqzFMG4ynlfQbRHvmNHI3E4/s320/100_5674.JPG" width="320" /></a></div><br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgnPBG71SIJH5H4Lo4-1fGqcPxtGn6wp_tbyTO7dNU7-sg3X8YnT-rmT3eWmubSrW9v65oCsMj4EcAQxq0gENlTJ3-lK9UVLsRQj1VenoYWRT3qOvtWNN4es3hF4e-weTUHYWAfTe11mGo/s1600/100_5655.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgnPBG71SIJH5H4Lo4-1fGqcPxtGn6wp_tbyTO7dNU7-sg3X8YnT-rmT3eWmubSrW9v65oCsMj4EcAQxq0gENlTJ3-lK9UVLsRQj1VenoYWRT3qOvtWNN4es3hF4e-weTUHYWAfTe11mGo/s320/100_5655.JPG" width="320" /></a></div> All Connor really cared about for Christmas was a bowling set. Anytime anyone asked him what he wanted he'd say bowling. So of course Santa brought him a bowling set. His birthday is in a few days and he still says he wants bowling even though he already got it.<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEii4_yncWlEc569TIucWDhBRtrHvMvJLxv3UtHw0u6CwRKsK4pAO-LwKu8X5befrHPXacBP10NAam0TWdURWwAgA4UyeEpDyyFsl-KW9k7qfD6HsfAkrv0OCQ4xPWqMK-4P5btZf4HMxtE/s1600/100_5654.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEii4_yncWlEc569TIucWDhBRtrHvMvJLxv3UtHw0u6CwRKsK4pAO-LwKu8X5befrHPXacBP10NAam0TWdURWwAgA4UyeEpDyyFsl-KW9k7qfD6HsfAkrv0OCQ4xPWqMK-4P5btZf4HMxtE/s320/100_5654.JPG" width="320" /></a></div>I just love Christmas with little kids. I can't imagine what it will be like when they are slovenly teenagers and then move out. I just don't think I will get the level of excitement over anything when they are in high school.Lizhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13222488604258748311noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7314640044038690139.post-61553239224316587952011-12-12T00:53:00.000-08:002011-12-12T00:59:10.848-08:00Best Santa Letter EverWe have a tradition at our house concerning communicating with Santa. We have a round, mail tube, ornament on our tree that the kids put notes to Santa in. The elves take the notes and Santa writes back. This year all the notes seem to have a theme, "I didn't mean to be bad, and this is why I did it." Tonight I came home from work and found pictures and notes from both Hailey and Greg. I think Greg's note might be the funniest Santa note ever.<br />Dear Santa,<br />I tried to be good. Even though I got mad and hurt my sister because she bit my mini Star Wars Obi Wan Kanobi.<br />Your Friend Greg<br /><br />Its like he's pretty sure Santa knows he attacked his sister but it was totally ok because she bit my Star Wars guy dang it!Lizhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13222488604258748311noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7314640044038690139.post-70931143259300778572011-08-20T22:59:00.001-07:002011-08-21T00:19:57.980-07:00Land of the Twilighters<div style="text-align: left;"><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEic8gX34KQv4-IqYDrckayLr2-s5KMGJIbKJ7kbgedWwkFFlbS2DYK7OnPgACU2RRaLq-aNgqj50a_-cza45Vf__LieiAfwsV8PsNTJ-Nk3NWILAiTIRs0OItqMsRXn-Q6Pbbug0x3KJgU/s1600/100_5176.JPG"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 200px; height: 150px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEic8gX34KQv4-IqYDrckayLr2-s5KMGJIbKJ7kbgedWwkFFlbS2DYK7OnPgACU2RRaLq-aNgqj50a_-cza45Vf__LieiAfwsV8PsNTJ-Nk3NWILAiTIRs0OItqMsRXn-Q6Pbbug0x3KJgU/s200/100_5176.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5643202002911671810" border="0" /></a><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjB-YOh1IocXJCZJm95gnJCVWfMX1gkF9MsgmPnzLCUl3DkyUAqVnWd2Kxs8Hhft1nE_GrsyzMPnpWxrf5RXq6n62CFw6vHZFiKbIyzfM99Dv0i0rOHZ9EPTJxwyG-i6scy9rtMfQxIWGc/s1600/100_5220.JPG"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 200px; height: 150px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjB-YOh1IocXJCZJm95gnJCVWfMX1gkF9MsgmPnzLCUl3DkyUAqVnWd2Kxs8Hhft1nE_GrsyzMPnpWxrf5RXq6n62CFw6vHZFiKbIyzfM99Dv0i0rOHZ9EPTJxwyG-i6scy9rtMfQxIWGc/s200/100_5220.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5643191233617904674" border="0" /></a>So to spare our family friends who could care less about Twilight, and think I'm slightly to completely nuts, I've broken our vacation posts into two parts. Twilight highlights, and all of the rest. Forks is pretty much a tiny, one stoplight, one drag town sandwiched between the ocean and the forest. So far as I could tell, you either work at a store in town, or are a logger. I imagine a lot of the town's income comes from us crazy Twilight people. You actually have to wait in a little line to take a picture in front of most of the book landmarks. And the people in town are very good sports about it. If you go to the visitors center on the south end of town, they will actually give you a packet for Twilight. There's a map to all of the spots, fun facts, and trivia. The women there explained, rather disappointedly, that Catherine Hardwick wanted to film the movies where they were set, but Washington wouldn't give them as good a tax break as other states. I'm pretty sure no one in Forks voted for Christine Gregoire. Filming the movie there would have really put them on the map. I talked to some of the shop keepers in town and they would all tell me about how these stores sat empty for ten years. The town was kind of dying off. The town is kind of a jumping off point for back packers and a home base for serious fishermen. But suddenlly all these tourists started showing up asking about places in these books. People in town started reading the books, one lady told me their library didn't even have a copy at first, and getting in on the act. Now there are stores dedicated just to Twilight. And a lot of stores that would have otherwise probably gone out of business, are doing well by carrying large selections of Twilight stuff. There's stuff I never would have even thought of. I mean who would have thought you could buy Twilight rainboots and scrapbook paper in the same store? I never heard a single bad word about the hordes of crazy women that descend on the town, but I did get some nasty looks from some locals. I get the sense that the actual Quiliets are slightly less amused.
<br /></div><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEitgJA3zgmQTETxjF2W-SGEyoeU-VhM4pOZl0gjytmIy03LFcQF8Tq7EVNJun-c4FLt1cDclkI46QTMRgqtr-4wcZXxFSwVUrGTnp0DRw0Y-3XyUtOETxyShceVNTwG1sbqOCXJtpDItqU/s1600/100_5110.JPG"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 200px; height: 150px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEitgJA3zgmQTETxjF2W-SGEyoeU-VhM4pOZl0gjytmIy03LFcQF8Tq7EVNJun-c4FLt1cDclkI46QTMRgqtr-4wcZXxFSwVUrGTnp0DRw0Y-3XyUtOETxyShceVNTwG1sbqOCXJtpDItqU/s200/100_5110.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5643202008115818002" border="0" /></a>This is the Italian restaurant that's in the book, and also used in the movie. I really wanted to eat there but it's more like a date restaurant. It wasn't super expensive, but the people looked so civilized, and it was nice. We didn't fell like unleashing our children's considerable destructive talents would be appreciated.
<br /><div style="text-align: left;"><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjB-YOh1IocXJCZJm95gnJCVWfMX1gkF9MsgmPnzLCUl3DkyUAqVnWd2Kxs8Hhft1nE_GrsyzMPnpWxrf5RXq6n62CFw6vHZFiKbIyzfM99Dv0i0rOHZ9EPTJxwyG-i6scy9rtMfQxIWGc/s1600/100_5220.JPG"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 200px; height: 150px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjB-YOh1IocXJCZJm95gnJCVWfMX1gkF9MsgmPnzLCUl3DkyUAqVnWd2Kxs8Hhft1nE_GrsyzMPnpWxrf5RXq6n62CFw6vHZFiKbIyzfM99Dv0i0rOHZ9EPTJxwyG-i6scy9rtMfQxIWGc/s200/100_5220.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5643191233617904674" border="0" /></a>
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<br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjd_oEH5tWHZIj1KuQ88W5E7o4oN_Kyx2R9RnpK7eb8Uj_13S3wPd4hLRYxmULUW4c8CgPld85fQ9eMKYIa4SATXJl1BN42C92MgdXTFa-Q2DErOdyMXQoYMIGib0BC3vkl8GEZiyZaMj8/s1600/100_5222.JPG"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 200px; height: 150px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjd_oEH5tWHZIj1KuQ88W5E7o4oN_Kyx2R9RnpK7eb8Uj_13S3wPd4hLRYxmULUW4c8CgPld85fQ9eMKYIa4SATXJl1BN42C92MgdXTFa-Q2DErOdyMXQoYMIGib0BC3vkl8GEZiyZaMj8/s200/100_5222.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5643191222256806322" border="0" /></a>Some of the home owners in town are very generous with us Twilighters as they call us. This is a bed and breakfast that stands in as the Cullen's home. Personally, it was not what I'd imagined when I'd read the books, but apparantly it's the closest thing they have around. The top picture is the white board on the front of the house. They will let Twilight people come up on the porch to take pictures. The owner's wife writes little notes everyday from "Esme" about what the Cullen's are out doing. I heard that if the owner's are outside in their garden when people come to take a picture, they will go inside so people can have an "authentic" experience. There are quotes from the movie, describing the house, taped to the windows. And an Edward cutout in the top bedroom window. The funny part is you can pay to go inside for set amounts of time to see "Edward's piano" and "Carlisle's office". Being a bed and breakfast, you can also stay there and pretend you're having a sleepover with Edward, but I think they charge you extra if you shred the pillows and break the headboard.
<br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjk76KuQWsKzuOwUWXj3KYFx5ploZI9rb80GJ_bUFbg5R6hPuNUDlcnolX_eqIFldHoLcsWLwo2QuqDqXhp3TJj_7E4dKrCmV3_gxoHB_j5v6_-rEkwMs07i8pGapnLPP1re5kMzo9eMaU/s1600/100_5223.JPG"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 200px; height: 150px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjk76KuQWsKzuOwUWXj3KYFx5ploZI9rb80GJ_bUFbg5R6hPuNUDlcnolX_eqIFldHoLcsWLwo2QuqDqXhp3TJj_7E4dKrCmV3_gxoHB_j5v6_-rEkwMs07i8pGapnLPP1re5kMzo9eMaU/s200/100_5223.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5643191241277809970" border="0" /></a>
<br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh-hDOjwiW9G99OVW5lg0r-Koxx6Dd7OfcevYyXfr8fKsNjdQJZRJuzYZtZeKXoMkL4GY_E8ia_jqQPe8iNBStA-D-GhcB9C5SfcKVlAIip8XL9NJUiAIlZ1eKlrCyjCgHltfiDpPY6bJM/s1600/100_5199.JPG"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 200px; height: 150px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh-hDOjwiW9G99OVW5lg0r-Koxx6Dd7OfcevYyXfr8fKsNjdQJZRJuzYZtZeKXoMkL4GY_E8ia_jqQPe8iNBStA-D-GhcB9C5SfcKVlAIip8XL9NJUiAIlZ1eKlrCyjCgHltfiDpPY6bJM/s200/100_5199.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5643189404113202034" border="0" /></a>They have duplicates of Bella's truck in front of the visitor's center. The top one is her truck from the movie, the bottom her truck from the book. The sign on the movie truck makes it sound like it's the actual one, but I'm not sure.
<br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgw9zUylK5e7dRH8VZjhD8qvhRQxJwu1VwVRPKJnjPmE7wiVBwKC6l4fOoUSco7n4rRzlA0kCqIMJs7sEF42kvfVyd8H75-DR0XNG2oWD4ois1ZpLwJjUx1n7i22DAqwIjhoSQ883gPamA/s1600/100_5198.JPG"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 200px; height: 150px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgw9zUylK5e7dRH8VZjhD8qvhRQxJwu1VwVRPKJnjPmE7wiVBwKC6l4fOoUSco7n4rRzlA0kCqIMJs7sEF42kvfVyd8H75-DR0XNG2oWD4ois1ZpLwJjUx1n7i22DAqwIjhoSQ883gPamA/s200/100_5198.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5643189397446990082" border="0" /></a>My sweet hubby who let me drag him on this nutty trip posing as my Edward. I'm sure he was silently laughing inside the whole trip.
<br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi4R5QH8DHkTGOtd-czT_excxTbiMIHer0GD8aVJ6qwC5OeDJOhwC0YWq0s2Y9iAnLs5tba3URQKqdent7Rey44e6gw2KBphlsD93gtLlKmiKwcfAcibr1yYggMGYs9EzM91xs2UEAkTvM/s1600/100_5197.JPG"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 200px; height: 150px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi4R5QH8DHkTGOtd-czT_excxTbiMIHer0GD8aVJ6qwC5OeDJOhwC0YWq0s2Y9iAnLs5tba3URQKqdent7Rey44e6gw2KBphlsD93gtLlKmiKwcfAcibr1yYggMGYs9EzM91xs2UEAkTvM/s200/100_5197.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5643189390379960082" border="0" /></a>The Forks police department let's you stroll right in to see the shadow box collage they made. And wander around taking pictures of their cars. I don't think crime is too much of an issue here.
<br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh6owWAbgETZws0YLy7Knq2n6uyMqZ9_mSxFyXrxj0AoxrTjYqO3kfgcCAKGHfyvv2eeeU9zFcFeuJkRSi8bhz_jN2rqC39pbWj_-eEfsJPGbRuGx2CLF_4LXy8CXBk1x8jrRThXMgXLlM/s1600/100_5219.JPG"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 200px; height: 150px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh6owWAbgETZws0YLy7Knq2n6uyMqZ9_mSxFyXrxj0AoxrTjYqO3kfgcCAKGHfyvv2eeeU9zFcFeuJkRSi8bhz_jN2rqC39pbWj_-eEfsJPGbRuGx2CLF_4LXy8CXBk1x8jrRThXMgXLlM/s200/100_5219.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5643189407971627410" border="0" /></a> These people's house looks just like I'd pictured Bella and Charlie's in my mind. I didn't even have to look at the address to know it was the right one. They must be very good natured about the whole thing. They've made a sign that says "Home of the Swans" and put it in their front yard. And they let you stand in their yard to take pictures. The visitor's center's map tells you what people will tolerate. I can't imagine having cars line up in front of my house all day long and people hopping out to take a picture in my front yard.
<br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhGCKcTldH6kveDt5lGdU9WSxqeU1u66wH3tFnPyaL6fWpQYyeySnauGL-T9QTpXY_h68TPWM7k9zXZceIkqsLZBOOHdIZFdsWVXEFyd70dPvW5REMCGosuPixs1SRBkDEKQEDERb99xNI/s1600/100_5194.JPG"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 200px; height: 150px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhGCKcTldH6kveDt5lGdU9WSxqeU1u66wH3tFnPyaL6fWpQYyeySnauGL-T9QTpXY_h68TPWM7k9zXZceIkqsLZBOOHdIZFdsWVXEFyd70dPvW5REMCGosuPixs1SRBkDEKQEDERb99xNI/s200/100_5194.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5643187280269963842" border="0" /></a>This is inside a really awesome store called "Dazzled by Twilight." They have a little branch in Port Angeles, but their main store is in Forks. The whole inside is totally decked out. They have grass like flooring, and twinkle lights on the ceiling. They have all sorts of cool scenes. This is a set of lockers that are decorated like the Cullen's.
<br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgfRwy2ISH3O3RIpNoHnNJonaTUGwOsQTlhLOwWf1ivpNB_wfE1KU6EPQHpjRFL3KfZYeue5Z7sNUBwwYdPIB_ydst-xFa2qDZTa5ClPOFoKEK1mstJ1QJ8JjTPWDreAkTV3SE3un10d6k/s1600/100_5177.JPG"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 150px; height: 200px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgfRwy2ISH3O3RIpNoHnNJonaTUGwOsQTlhLOwWf1ivpNB_wfE1KU6EPQHpjRFL3KfZYeue5Z7sNUBwwYdPIB_ydst-xFa2qDZTa5ClPOFoKEK1mstJ1QJ8JjTPWDreAkTV3SE3un10d6k/s200/100_5177.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5643187273579175634" border="0" /></a>The "Swans" house from a distance.
<br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhNz-xLHHH2YCYD9VtLhPosTSuR-XkLRcVbb7AZ5P5CdSO9fBNe7bdN_KzqxI6_ct46hhOWehrp1HfamIrgssmn1FRBWY8wvErM6Ktevg3bBK0Iql5xP0bio_4jqYHmWMOD7SJ1UIRCPs4/s1600/100_5193.JPG"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 200px; height: 150px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhNz-xLHHH2YCYD9VtLhPosTSuR-XkLRcVbb7AZ5P5CdSO9fBNe7bdN_KzqxI6_ct46hhOWehrp1HfamIrgssmn1FRBWY8wvErM6Ktevg3bBK0Iql5xP0bio_4jqYHmWMOD7SJ1UIRCPs4/s200/100_5193.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5643187270611730034" border="0" /></a>The hospital has a desigated spot for Dr. Cullen.
<br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhx12PpizHANudnS6JD4KfHgGbEkuHBrp3abtyiBb_EqJ5VSZQ8TiyH5_EmwG2WCfztg6sPyZduYBJQ1IXZl7o6tfYUkBDkOGkbaWYHe3u_XDMe7vQp9pCsP5JmCWtKa-HmZUpzu8OpqNw/s1600/100_5195.JPG"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 200px; height: 150px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhx12PpizHANudnS6JD4KfHgGbEkuHBrp3abtyiBb_EqJ5VSZQ8TiyH5_EmwG2WCfztg6sPyZduYBJQ1IXZl7o6tfYUkBDkOGkbaWYHe3u_XDMe7vQp9pCsP5JmCWtKa-HmZUpzu8OpqNw/s200/100_5195.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5643187286517845954" border="0" /></a>A side door on the outside of Dazzled by Twilight. Inside this door, they have a whole display of old medical tools. They also have these cool pictures of the actors photoshopped in old cars and clothes and stuff. They're in sepia so they look like all of these pictures of the Cullen's through the past century.
<br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj08JAXghZbaA2lj5nmnwNfX6sCgVj1zr7kdLeDGDZYwO6EykCEliRoold_3HDMIj8cOmZ3ROU09mKPveW8hNPcPjwlPo0yMNQ0PjOxTqiPyLuKYVQtIyULJWy6WEB3TL9cNYwNvHymVvw/s1600/100_5181.JPG"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 150px; height: 200px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj08JAXghZbaA2lj5nmnwNfX6sCgVj1zr7kdLeDGDZYwO6EykCEliRoold_3HDMIj8cOmZ3ROU09mKPveW8hNPcPjwlPo0yMNQ0PjOxTqiPyLuKYVQtIyULJWy6WEB3TL9cNYwNvHymVvw/s200/100_5181.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5643186082022608706" border="0" /></a>One corner of the shop has a mural of La Push painted down the wall and this motorcycle.
<br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhabmMnk_LAgafKoZ96Lfo2PK3GULIgaCL490vKmlFi4tVckW-9rUBoM3XwdrX9Jdf4C3Fj2tPTroCMAdDkKMdRHveCF80n8thmfJCcGsTtgPHL_M9nVW6R7iXtpLmn3sUzYgy_1c1T5UM/s1600/100_5179.JPG"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 150px; height: 200px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhabmMnk_LAgafKoZ96Lfo2PK3GULIgaCL490vKmlFi4tVckW-9rUBoM3XwdrX9Jdf4C3Fj2tPTroCMAdDkKMdRHveCF80n8thmfJCcGsTtgPHL_M9nVW6R7iXtpLmn3sUzYgy_1c1T5UM/s200/100_5179.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5643186074753063026" border="0" /></a>Bella and Edward's tree in the store. There's also a small gazebo decorated with twinkle lights, a cutout of Edward in his suit, and a cutout of Edward, Bella, and Jacob with Bella's face cutout. I took a dorky picture in it, at the top of this post.
<br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEja4gI4quxxm7RmIwkzXL4jxgAPdpkgOI8kWOwb9rRGxDMGLDdM9rdBsh_xQ0wLGHqomSOMtTJZVJYGiCiy-ZEsYZQ2Fqcik1LD8tXzpBXkZ4RjCEgTpsMOkuJE-nFcJdluqgZ8eHNKpdU/s1600/100_5174.JPG"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 150px; height: 200px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEja4gI4quxxm7RmIwkzXL4jxgAPdpkgOI8kWOwb9rRGxDMGLDdM9rdBsh_xQ0wLGHqomSOMtTJZVJYGiCiy-ZEsYZQ2Fqcik1LD8tXzpBXkZ4RjCEgTpsMOkuJE-nFcJdluqgZ8eHNKpdU/s200/100_5174.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5643186074561703234" border="0" /></a>The high school sign. This spot had the longest line to take a picture. We're not talking Disneyland or anything, but still.
<br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgHuq3tEfXol7TVmJn8CrZ3MbUa3Eh2QMPLWOzFxeBOz_x7bGbUCFsPqaLx79OnGYTjOPWIp6wmIkO-to8HAkpuqyT5nOlnBj6aAYovl7-MjYWNLrnosTJoK9hfXAJkl_2fyXlN2Gf4DFY/s1600/100_5191.JPG"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 200px; height: 150px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgHuq3tEfXol7TVmJn8CrZ3MbUa3Eh2QMPLWOzFxeBOz_x7bGbUCFsPqaLx79OnGYTjOPWIp6wmIkO-to8HAkpuqyT5nOlnBj6aAYovl7-MjYWNLrnosTJoK9hfXAJkl_2fyXlN2Gf4DFY/s200/100_5191.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5643186087531133970" border="0" /></a>Down at La Push beach, people write on the logs with burnt sticks. Lots of "we were here" stuff. There was this group of five college girls down on the beach on their own Twilight tour. They asked me to take a picture of them on the logs. It seemed like the kind of thing I would have done with my summer break. The funny thing about being in Forks was that in my mind it was nothing but Bella and Edward's town. I couldn't get my mind to stop looking for actors from the movies around every corner. In my imagination, I would work every random person in town into the story somehow. It was so much on my mind, the first thing I did when we got home was crack open Breaking Dawn, and read like I'd never read it before.
<br />Lizhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13222488604258748311noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7314640044038690139.post-280328381066460812011-08-08T00:03:00.000-07:002011-08-08T01:02:43.269-07:00VictoriaFor vacation this year we went on what Dave calls "The Twilight Tour." Yes, we did go to the Olympic Peninsula, and yes we went to Forks, but it was only a day's worth of Twilighty stuff. I have always wanted to go to the peninsula to see the rain forest. Really. I'll post more about the rest of the trip later, if I ever get my camera unloaded. Until then, a funny thing happened when we first got to Forks. And I love it when people make me look normal.
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<br />We had been in Forks all of 10 minutes when I met the crazy 50+ Twilighter's group (as in over 50, apparently there's a group just for them.) I was unloading the van at our "hotel" when these ladies came up to me and said "you know your hair is red just like Victoria's in the Twilight movies." I laughed and said "yeah I guess it is", and assured them that I did not require further tutoring on the matter, as I am already well schooled in Twilight facts. Figuring they just needed to come over and point out to me that I had red hair, I went back to slogging my way through the piles of DVD's and Capri Sun pouches that littered the floor of our van. Then I hear "um so, we were wondering, since you look like Victoria and all, we would love it if you wold go in the woods over there so we can take your picture." Okaaay. Then they told me all about their gathering they'd planned. Apparantly 30 women, mostly strangers to each other, were all meeting in Forks that weekend. They were going on one of the Twilight Tours, having a baby shower for Renesme and donating the gifts to a charity, and finishing off with a prom. When I commented that it would be a bummer that it's all women, I was told "oh no Edward's coming." They had hired an Edward look alike from Portland to drive out and go to their prom. Now that's dedication.
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<br />Knowing all this, I should have known that a simple picture of me standing by a tree wouldn't be sufficient. They led me to the woods right by our hotel, and began to instruct me on how and where to stand. For you Twilight virgins out there, there is a scene in Eclipse when the character, Victoria, is running through the woods, and turns to look behind her for a second. The next thing I know I'm standing half way up this hill, holding a tree with one hand like I'm going to yank it's branch off for being in my way, and glancing over my shoulder like a scared fugitive. Meanwhile, total strangers are telling me to "put my chin down", "look this direction", "don't smile", as they tried to recreate that image. I was a good sport in the spirit of being a big fan myself.
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<br />When I finally show up in our room, Dave of course is wondering what the heck happened to me. I think when I told him, he really thought I'd booked us a vacation to crazyville. For the next couple of days, every time I walked through the parking lot, windows would open and those ladies would yell "hey Victoria" in a sing songy voice. Total strangers would stop me to tell me thanks for taking the pictures, their new friends had given them a copy and they posted it online already. They were actually pretty funny ladies. I kept joking I'd made 30 new friends. This has also opened my eyes to a new career possibility. Why would I keep slogging away selling lotion, when I could go team up with the Edward look alike and stage mock fights. If anyone knows any Twilight look alikes, let me know, we'll start a traveling Twilight impersonation company. All we need is the right hair color.
<br />Lizhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13222488604258748311noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7314640044038690139.post-42802170692282376922011-06-19T22:54:00.000-07:002011-06-19T23:00:40.332-07:00Little DiddyThis is what happens to my brain when I have 10 minutes to myself. I drove to church by myself today, having no good Sunday cds in the car, and no kids yelling, my brain got bored. So I made up a little song to the chorus of "Put your shoulder to the wheel."<br /><br />Put your pedal to the metal speed along<br />Drive your mini-van with a heart full of song<br />We're always late, so don't bother to wait<br />Put the pedal to the metalLizhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13222488604258748311noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7314640044038690139.post-57782523766294674192011-06-13T23:49:00.000-07:002011-06-14T00:30:49.082-07:00Snips and Snails and Puppy Dog TailsIf anyone would have told me I'd enjoy raising boys this much, I would never have believed them. When the girls were small, we used to trade babysitting with another family in Logan. They had two little boys. Every time we watched them, they were these crazy maniacs, jumping off our furniture, running around, and making these horrible vrooming noises. (Mind you this was before Hailey was mobile enough for us to realize she was quite similar to a wild ADD boy). After they left, Dave and I would always say how glad we were we had such nice, calm girls. Haha. Jokes on us there. We still hoped to have some boys, someday, but I was terrified of raising them. I did not envision it going well at all. Fast forward seven years and I just can't get enough. I love that everything is a possible vehicle of some sort. The world is broken down into fast cars, good guys, and bad guys. I love that they don't care if I can find the right shoes to match. Heck their shoes don't even have to match. Neither do their clothes. If they have a fight, they each get in a few good punches and it's over. No hour long crying jags, hair pulling and scratching. And it's so much easier to keep track of a fleet of Kachow cars then 200 pairs of tiny earrings. I love that I am the center of the universe in their eyes. For now at least. They are just so sweet and funny, and almost transparent in their feelings. I don't have to guess and wonder what storm is brewing beneath the surface. Now I realize some people may chalk that up to my girls perched on tweendom, but my girls have been complicated drama queens since 10 months. <br />Some of my favorite things the boys have done lately:<br /><br />- Greg eating a hamburger, "mom are these seeds on my bun?" Yes. "So can you plant them?" His little eyes getting that mischievous twinkle when he thinks he's got a great idea. "Greg what do you think will grow if you plant that" Gives me his big blue eye trick "a hamburger tree?"<br /><br />-Watching Wipe Out one night a Victoria's Secret commercial came on. Connor jumps off the couch, points at the TV and yells "I need dat!" Over and over. Second time he sees it, he runs up to the TV and starts hitting it while yelling "I need dat" I thought it was some weird TV fluke. Maybe he likes the sparkly bras. The next day at the mall, he was pushing his stroller and totally veered into the Victoria's Secret when we passed it. I had to fight the kid out of the store. I can only imagine what people thought when they see me dragging a 3 year old boy out of the Vickies, dragging his stroller behind him screaming "no need dat one! Need it!" Meanwhile my 3 other children are standing outside, staring at us, mortified, either of the thought of going in that store, or the scene we were making. Probably both.<br /><br />-Connor is one of those dirt magnet kids. Stick him and Greg in the same pile of dirt, Greg will come back fairly clean, and Connor will be head to toe covered. And somehow always sticky. I was stripping him down to throw him in the tub one day and he was fighting all the way. I asked why he didn't want to take a bath, he loves the water. He yells "no wanna be clean" Such a boy.<br /><br />-My kids have a habit of streaking around the house after they bathe. Kenzie is the only kid with an ounce of modesty. We have a very large window in the front of our house facing the street. One night, Greg was doing his naked dance for all the neighborhood to see. I said "Greg put some clothes on. The neighbors can see your butt". Greg - "good I want them to"<br /><br />-Greg "Pew that stinks"- Me "what does"- Greg "my butt" (hysterical laughter follows)<br /><br />-My boys have learned that mommy is the real pushover of the house. They are honing their skills of getting women to do anything for them. Connor has discovered that we are all super thrilled with any intelligible 3 or 4 word sentence. He's combined his powers of persuasion with impressing us with speech. When he wants something he says " Can hi peeees? Peas mommy?" Combined with puppy dog eyes and it's pretty hard to say no.<br /><br />-If Connor has to pee and he's outside, or someone is in the bathroom, he runs to a tree and pees on it. It's no longer surprising to see him speed out the door, dragging his beloved blankie, to drop his drawers. Unfortunately he has chosen a tree closest to the street, on our property line. He drops his pants to his ankles and turns him butt to the street.<br /><br />-We have been waging an ongoing war against the ant hills in our backyard. Greg was asking where the ants go when they die. I said I don't know heaven I guess (I mean they're ants). Just like we will to live with Heavenly Father. Greg "But what about how we're meteors?" Um meteors (I think I'm failing in the Family home evening department) "Yeah how else are we gonna see space". I tried to explain things to him, but he got so sad about not being a meteor zooming around space, I gave him an abbreviated version.<br /><br />Now don't get me wrong. I love my girls. But they have never had that same raw power over my heart like these boys. I just hope I out grow it before they get married.Lizhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13222488604258748311noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7314640044038690139.post-58267763684617170332011-06-07T20:52:00.000-07:002011-06-13T23:47:03.432-07:00Spring Sports<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiyuz1eHLJuNdkH8ZmZAlE4DQduemrCUwhmS0claDzYVd5Oc09OmL2XlyOEUFGKfKw-0USyelI0MzptUnip6byIlTLUv84KDVNvMVLJL5MmGBJYdlvQRo4y5_Ib9jTcsOS5TQ3BCiefUSY/s1600/100B4870.JPG"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 200px; height: 150px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiyuz1eHLJuNdkH8ZmZAlE4DQduemrCUwhmS0claDzYVd5Oc09OmL2XlyOEUFGKfKw-0USyelI0MzptUnip6byIlTLUv84KDVNvMVLJL5MmGBJYdlvQRo4y5_Ib9jTcsOS5TQ3BCiefUSY/s200/100B4870.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5617959849209493154" border="0" /></a>Hailey has done soccer every spring and fall since we moved to Spokane. She's gotten quite good at it. I'm pretty sure she's drawing from the <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_0">Huisman</span> gene pool, not the <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_1">Paulitz's</span>. For once she has a good way to channel her aggression. That really helps her out on the field, she's not afraid to go after the ball.<br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEidJPz5Tk5BqqTp19S-guoPbZeFVa1xZ7jnlqW_Ssh9mAZjBMdJPZkCElGJGUCZBYdtvYMCZkymXWUdHoK8G0OI1zRU3CqdNYPuVYlZkJIdUl-DiikoYOSAqFxhalDDPBvqXxqqQKz5lr0/s1600/100B4850.JPG"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 200px; height: 150px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEidJPz5Tk5BqqTp19S-guoPbZeFVa1xZ7jnlqW_Ssh9mAZjBMdJPZkCElGJGUCZBYdtvYMCZkymXWUdHoK8G0OI1zRU3CqdNYPuVYlZkJIdUl-DiikoYOSAqFxhalDDPBvqXxqqQKz5lr0/s200/100B4850.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5617959845902870562" border="0" /></a>She's got a great kick too. Whenever the ball goes out of bounds, her coach gets to send any player on the field to kick it back in. If Ha's on the field, she's usually the kicker. That kids always been freakishly strong for a child. Doesn't usually work in my benefit, but I guess it works for hers.<br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEizDZe7-HAfM32ADGOM3dHS3y7_xKui8VnXAgrwIiGPHuHaFpVXtLdNOIrgBgO2ZV0JzqPrahS6JR5u6uxv_iyHUQnn4C3YzOPYHK1yt8jn-tuuv8pv452Os91tSTTjPyyvKLmg969RSog/s1600/100B4881.JPG"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 200px; height: 150px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEizDZe7-HAfM32ADGOM3dHS3y7_xKui8VnXAgrwIiGPHuHaFpVXtLdNOIrgBgO2ZV0JzqPrahS6JR5u6uxv_iyHUQnn4C3YzOPYHK1yt8jn-tuuv8pv452Os91tSTTjPyyvKLmg969RSog/s200/100B4881.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5617959853495406242" border="0" /></a><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhZzaP7NG6eLJqfVse6zSURq7U8DaR11yBaNtYiI8lx4CW2e1t_E4c6K55Fp-uHRRpKdsTiSivFMXd3-If76hQhoWnO_2inoSjrHImW1xys39swQ-8pIa-ue41BBrW_wQjGZ7hzx109WAA/s1600/100_4812.JPG"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 200px; height: 150px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhZzaP7NG6eLJqfVse6zSURq7U8DaR11yBaNtYiI8lx4CW2e1t_E4c6K55Fp-uHRRpKdsTiSivFMXd3-If76hQhoWnO_2inoSjrHImW1xys39swQ-8pIa-ue41BBrW_wQjGZ7hzx109WAA/s200/100_4812.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5615708622092343538" border="0" /></a>Greg got into the spring sports game this year and joined t-ball. Now I've always been more of a baseball girl than pretty much every other sport, so I really enjoyed watching his games. Plus, is anything cuter than 5 year <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_2">olds</span> playing t-ball? We took the kids to quite a few Spokane Indians games last summer, so he imagines himself quite the ball player. I'm pretty sure he ranks himself right up there with <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_3">Jeeter</span> the cheater. (Dave's favorite nick name)<br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgsbiMw1kKi0UGvjd4uCBnrX7eNqszyh4VIparam5ddv68FpN8RIoA7SCNJVeMk2mWnAwRhcPQLOqMJDlIYfmq64GjiU5uOUVqrL4MIKut6FOkTYgov3g_ldqIxV9AY-QsLBxBLOffn5oc/s1600/100_4777.JPG"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 150px; height: 200px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgsbiMw1kKi0UGvjd4uCBnrX7eNqszyh4VIparam5ddv68FpN8RIoA7SCNJVeMk2mWnAwRhcPQLOqMJDlIYfmq64GjiU5uOUVqrL4MIKut6FOkTYgov3g_ldqIxV9AY-QsLBxBLOffn5oc/s200/100_4777.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5615693760902199970" border="0" /></a><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiBO0bXamArqHyNSZkHbl3-WqeUBWw3uFpICuCYGRsU4RCsq64f8-Z_af2IeV-GgTeoKi2VrpAWv845X07KNr-h_lPlI1mkzqYOIgZfvVts-lYZlYx2NHmh1h1sbcr3SVMZl-s18uvsw1s/s1600/100_4769.JPG"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 200px; height: 150px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiBO0bXamArqHyNSZkHbl3-WqeUBWw3uFpICuCYGRsU4RCsq64f8-Z_af2IeV-GgTeoKi2VrpAWv845X07KNr-h_lPlI1mkzqYOIgZfvVts-lYZlYx2NHmh1h1sbcr3SVMZl-s18uvsw1s/s200/100_4769.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5615693750118024002" border="0" /></a>Tragically for <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_4">Greggers</span>, he had the misfortune to get those pesky, <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_5">unathletic</span> <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_6">Paulitz</span> genes. Puny hits, and he throws just like me. We're <span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_7">definitely</span> going to push more for an academic scholarship than athletic. But he has fun, and he's basically the cutest ball player ever. Some of the kids on his team were crazy good. One kid hit it far into the outfield consistently every time. He also participates in 3 sports at a time, so I'm pretty sure he's got a whole lot of energy.<br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgPJ4j1wLWf7wgNnClZR12iLgaJVWVWICMiS3h2pRD_-e3zdewpE7TFyczYU6aT_Sj1eNwYjwsgcMxlY-PIqEv2ZbFWJZx8nyNRqV6TOeei8vWMF8L7OpLIbEyKfUK9hnpM8IBVvWqbcdY/s1600/100_4765.JPG"><br /></a><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhY0zbyfi0w0qAtqlr-r2Kc_V0oqi6smcK-PFRn3firGCMGqILaZSvG3F2obLvJDDsFk3UOCOWq37tnpFX5al2TqT2PEpO9TTaj2FcBW18t5bQF2Sihr_fgF12-5y5grgvEwYGexx3s-TE/s1600/100_4778.JPG"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 150px; height: 200px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhY0zbyfi0w0qAtqlr-r2Kc_V0oqi6smcK-PFRn3firGCMGqILaZSvG3F2obLvJDDsFk3UOCOWq37tnpFX5al2TqT2PEpO9TTaj2FcBW18t5bQF2Sihr_fgF12-5y5grgvEwYGexx3s-TE/s200/100_4778.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5615693767039426178" border="0" /></a>Sports season is always crazy busy at our house. And I imagine it will only get worse as the kids get older. Add in school and church activities, violin, school orchestra, and two working parents and things are even more chaotic and unorganized than usual. But I truly enjoy watching my little crazies run wild on those fields, having the time of their lives.<br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhM5XEVVGUHyaTz2QcR-xGRebXy8ARI1EXU09rMwuKt1RGzQe2SGdFWMFflGyi2mpPuLb5dVA-OC3ewZAzpSltG9LEHILqKuGDoqpuqUFsGYkJUGnW9vOQaBzKJBX21bvRy4dJjp0oWi3c/s1600/100_4725.JPG"><br /></a><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjFxi9DScxe7ZmoEg1I3ZT2TeX8tDK-Lu5tozy2fykx0CAsduHjVytzx4LutKzgLU6UWgIn0sPY0M9mWm3Ej3ZdSkXt9IanrvcgW9WPttJh0WgOw1pkZEuvrZQ_AIOwUy2kAu-dKGvCnNM/s1600/100_4717.JPG"><br /></a><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgLGpOeYX0uH_5GbGm0d_MKb9Cy2fsYsN0YCpgNq_JFcTLd9Ltih7aPG3H1oX0bqMGEA2j_CQe4AdQEwI0qb2hZ1vJs45w7hEnXKqdsqRAkRpDG_U9YfGVFy-WR2nbiLCzrvIPXIwbKEUo/s1600/100_4712.JPG"><br /></a><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh07uF6lLoeGxbax2stUizQvzneNR9P036dfHoScOwfzkufspcQVqTq6eAWHrx06E-MqBPP92Qc_VOWxOClbqB_OAZniB9gTzyyc00q8MsA0uCr2Y4NxyXtVZL1kyrXH9fEclsBCclvzvc/s1600/100_4724.JPG"><br /></a>Lizhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13222488604258748311noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7314640044038690139.post-5830619893234131582011-06-07T16:30:00.000-07:002011-06-07T20:46:07.980-07:00Spring BreakFor spring break this year we were supposed to visit Dave's family in Utah. However, about a week before break we found out there was a Star Wars exhibit in the Pacific Science Center in Seattle, and it would be over before the next school break. Being the Star Wars freaks that my family is, we of course abandoned ship on the relatives and bee lined for nerd capades.<br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEifWtOzda39F2EaOLFdeoDds7Ul_DTfuORZDRkfU8snZ-EGKcEvbEyYnF7SfngiATrjNZKZWe37rQPLhfH1gPIcOSDWWEtUeTq9c0dx6VqvOuuNMy5aXJblI5SWh4texuAIwJN_zq8ReXM/s1600/100_4755.JPG"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 150px; height: 200px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEifWtOzda39F2EaOLFdeoDds7Ul_DTfuORZDRkfU8snZ-EGKcEvbEyYnF7SfngiATrjNZKZWe37rQPLhfH1gPIcOSDWWEtUeTq9c0dx6VqvOuuNMy5aXJblI5SWh4texuAIwJN_zq8ReXM/s200/100_4755.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5615626040023070562" border="0" /></a>We bought a city pass so that we could also take the kids to the aquarium, Science Fiction Museum, Experience Music Project and zoo. Tragically for the girl raised in a family of Star Trek disciples, the Science Fiction Museum was closed. I was pretty bummed, but I survived. We did get to go over to the music project which, unless you're an aspiring Kurt Cobain wannabe is pretty dull. On the plus side, they are working on a Nirvana exhibit. So next time I can see Star Trek and Nirvana! Hollah! Hailey had to have her picture taken with the guitar sculpture, since she has big dreams of being the next Miley Cyrus.<br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgRvdY3Mup4Nvq60Ot199dtRVTiFeWWbywTs6D_RWBt2xxcIC8xmM1AWuKLS9bvQvfRn7AITRYmuEXx6qkuttw23EZKNS92tskj9RXXL5f_GqSG4e_k71ir5ff_S9yu1BU6i-92QMzRclY/s1600/100_4751.JPG"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 150px; height: 200px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgRvdY3Mup4Nvq60Ot199dtRVTiFeWWbywTs6D_RWBt2xxcIC8xmM1AWuKLS9bvQvfRn7AITRYmuEXx6qkuttw23EZKNS92tskj9RXXL5f_GqSG4e_k71ir5ff_S9yu1BU6i-92QMzRclY/s200/100_4751.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5615626029939914946" border="0" /> </a>Kenzie was a natural butterfly magnet with her pink coat. The butterfly garden in the Science center is always one of my favorite things there.<br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhADCXY6_0RrK4W7WCgfmFJLnoE39SJZgAlCcmA8KnNWtCx6lN7Oe5fVt6SoB2MzQ9Xap7cxMD3b1Nrxz4mlXs0ol9QG-NSuErYD0qXlaity02-xSsQ45hY7go3gPk0vBk0Fx7j2mww3ug/s1600/100_4748.JPG"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 200px; height: 150px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhADCXY6_0RrK4W7WCgfmFJLnoE39SJZgAlCcmA8KnNWtCx6lN7Oe5fVt6SoB2MzQ9Xap7cxMD3b1Nrxz4mlXs0ol9QG-NSuErYD0qXlaity02-xSsQ45hY7go3gPk0vBk0Fx7j2mww3ug/s200/100_4748.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5615626026909476498" border="0" /></a>Connor rocking out at the music project. I never got a good picture of the hysterical face he was making. He opens his mouth and eyes into huge O's of intense concentration like he's going to take off any second.<br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjVMsTRic5QIjtoCHhpQBd3OJ4o2zCcWhjRH_HDYJdmQbw2bsl8HJPjTBwdOfG4qGjVj6uAJ_VEB8J76v53Rx5d2OoFVRdAWyIh-NeKrDTtOTnJ6hYZElx-2e6pjB_LMQrdZwZ2FX2WNeM/s1600/100_4760.JPG"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 200px; height: 150px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjVMsTRic5QIjtoCHhpQBd3OJ4o2zCcWhjRH_HDYJdmQbw2bsl8HJPjTBwdOfG4qGjVj6uAJ_VEB8J76v53Rx5d2OoFVRdAWyIh-NeKrDTtOTnJ6hYZElx-2e6pjB_LMQrdZwZ2FX2WNeM/s200/100_4760.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5615626052357771906" border="0" /></a><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjKXnmf6ngmHWyJZdMwtlE-QpDficiAuJbl3bt4lXstnR7h__oYdnjzb9C-3Y9CULaYLL4HLHpr-s714_Y64xpJEtldIXbMPue_QCFE_1Mt8y7d33MmFXCRFXa-qKOo0cG2DOEkb94JkuY/s1600/100_4740.JPG"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 150px; height: 200px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjKXnmf6ngmHWyJZdMwtlE-QpDficiAuJbl3bt4lXstnR7h__oYdnjzb9C-3Y9CULaYLL4HLHpr-s714_Y64xpJEtldIXbMPue_QCFE_1Mt8y7d33MmFXCRFXa-qKOo0cG2DOEkb94JkuY/s200/100_4740.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5615625207289359586" border="0" /></a><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiUkN6dc63RVZnpk95hHz_yY7KJ9-4rDN0nIwzNUQQVhVSYd5aDAmZjHcqefnc4aB77ySm86_pF4-XEu-7US4M57tskR2oFvg7rc-YwIARI4WxJRPxNH5D__Nmssqkizxz1bq7u0r744Mw/s1600/100_4735.JPG"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 150px; height: 200px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiUkN6dc63RVZnpk95hHz_yY7KJ9-4rDN0nIwzNUQQVhVSYd5aDAmZjHcqefnc4aB77ySm86_pF4-XEu-7US4M57tskR2oFvg7rc-YwIARI4WxJRPxNH5D__Nmssqkizxz1bq7u0r744Mw/s200/100_4735.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5615625199132777746" border="0" /></a>Hailey's Star Wars idol is sadly, Darth Vadar. She even bought herself a Darth costume at the over priced gift shop.<br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj0VRjNKT19GSjUGfcWT3qorSH6XCkt30NLnw2kftsLrrQ6ir4TzTzD47wPoTnr7nrBQI74ZFbbkKN23cvW_KImJO5NV1wA_qr8iPbyhvXwx6vA7aFXaGrb6j8WlZruRjEoIDrjWRduZQk/s1600/100_4733.JPG"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 200px; height: 150px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj0VRjNKT19GSjUGfcWT3qorSH6XCkt30NLnw2kftsLrrQ6ir4TzTzD47wPoTnr7nrBQI74ZFbbkKN23cvW_KImJO5NV1wA_qr8iPbyhvXwx6vA7aFXaGrb6j8WlZruRjEoIDrjWRduZQk/s200/100_4733.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5615625192704468770" border="0" /></a>Connor was determined to never sleep in his bed. He would follow me around and crash in weird spots. He passed out under my chair when I was at the computer one night.<br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiWG9Nqpm52pDWJZyIIgiZ0QxW_0GEbhrRH9m6LWsu7X7j8NueEdh46KEyrb36f6nDeojt0xKH451ldUfEJLOC2ARB5W3lahdgnZD4cr5eums3v2zcANwrto1SuHAXSskEJdI95faQNfx8/s1600/100_4744.JPG"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 150px; height: 200px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiWG9Nqpm52pDWJZyIIgiZ0QxW_0GEbhrRH9m6LWsu7X7j8NueEdh46KEyrb36f6nDeojt0xKH451ldUfEJLOC2ARB5W3lahdgnZD4cr5eums3v2zcANwrto1SuHAXSskEJdI95faQNfx8/s200/100_4744.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5615625212364125330" border="0" /></a><br />I forgot my camera the day we went to the aquarium so I missed getting picture of the gross, huge octopus. The boys couldn't decide if they loved it or were scared of it. The kids always love the zoo. Greg is trying to figure out how to be an animal scientist and an astronaut at the same time. The Woodland Zoo has the coolest indoor play area, I spent the whole time wishing we had something even close to it here. Seattle does not have a monopoly on crappy weather. I got a whole one bad picture of a toucan for Greg before my camera battery died. And I of course forgot a backup. We got to visit my sister and her husband. They are the only people I know who have a different, large construction project going every time I see them. We pulled up to find the top of their fence lined with mouse traps (to keep the dogs in) and their kitchen cabinets on the patio. We also got to meet a good friend of Dave's that he met at academy. It was great to finally meet this family he talks about all the time.Lizhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13222488604258748311noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7314640044038690139.post-62542077110747781302011-03-30T14:51:00.000-07:002011-03-30T15:10:32.755-07:00Locks of Love<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhnBa19q9IryyLx0tDhk-0lCzd_7HWP2_vM1hmLVpXfqiQ7r5yiu-ly0Bt6NA_P-YVMM1vJCU81vrOnEW7814BnPY_qeX13uiYVbSXUsg074L6gj1Q0oZHdsKIr-F7eCG8L2xRd417RuyE/s1600/100_4614.JPG"><img style="display: block; margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 150px; height: 200px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhnBa19q9IryyLx0tDhk-0lCzd_7HWP2_vM1hmLVpXfqiQ7r5yiu-ly0Bt6NA_P-YVMM1vJCU81vrOnEW7814BnPY_qeX13uiYVbSXUsg074L6gj1Q0oZHdsKIr-F7eCG8L2xRd417RuyE/s200/100_4614.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5589997045980638114" border="0" /></a>About 2 years ago there was a girl in our primary that had gorgeous, long hair. One Sunday she showed up to church with all of it chopped off. When she shared that she had donated it all to Locks of Love, McKenzie decided, right then and there, she wanted to do the same thing. Since then she has been diligently growing her hair, only getting the occasional trim. About once a month, we'd measure her hair to see if it was long enough. She was so excited when it finally had grown out past the required 10 inches.<br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjeIu8xl4lpsv8KW2DLEpo5T0yyB0CEGM43INtSUESFDN6V3QRuVtCZCQmf56tYQnfjY59tVJvFiNXqMsHI-4rIEb1aaQnlOOnEKdu6tlCyuzdgUWFLzhBYq1Nj1VlAleTqm0Nen-E7-cA/s1600/100_4707.JPG"><img style="display: block; margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 200px; height: 150px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjeIu8xl4lpsv8KW2DLEpo5T0yyB0CEGM43INtSUESFDN6V3QRuVtCZCQmf56tYQnfjY59tVJvFiNXqMsHI-4rIEb1aaQnlOOnEKdu6tlCyuzdgUWFLzhBYq1Nj1VlAleTqm0Nen-E7-cA/s200/100_4707.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5589995156839214978" border="0" /></a>I was trying to get a picture here of how thick her ponytail was. This picture doesn't do it justice, but the kid has crazy thick hair. The stylist just kept cutting and cutting to get through that ponytail. She said she felt like she was cutting with dull scissors. The longest piece ended up being 13 inches long.<br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhDEzGc1TQay-ubVOom7cOM3935eNOBSjiaer03EyO8BBcqRWALPNSROYlVH2TsPxSSaKiuLBTN6h2UUwJPrO2HQ5do7Tt8rJKzJN5zEeyhO-WCLddSOVa0Ra9FERNVjr1AKcdnBVS79fY/s1600/100_4718.JPG"><img style="display: block; margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 200px; height: 150px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhDEzGc1TQay-ubVOom7cOM3935eNOBSjiaer03EyO8BBcqRWALPNSROYlVH2TsPxSSaKiuLBTN6h2UUwJPrO2HQ5do7Tt8rJKzJN5zEeyhO-WCLddSOVa0Ra9FERNVjr1AKcdnBVS79fY/s200/100_4718.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5589995152894090802" border="0" /></a>McKenzie with her new hair cut. She looks so different with her hair short. I can't remember the last time she had it this short. Its a pretty adorable cut, and she's so proud of herself. She plans on growing it out again to donate. She has such a generous heart, and says if she has lots of pretty hair, and some kids don't she'll just give it to them.Lizhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13222488604258748311noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7314640044038690139.post-6458855934325283852011-03-22T00:14:00.000-07:002011-03-22T00:58:09.669-07:00Confessions of the Tragically UnorganziedI have been a hopelessly unorganized and scatter brained person for as long as I can remember. I can never finish cleaning a room because the second I leave the room or see something else that needs done (or I want to do), I'm gone. My brain has leaped ahead to the next thing. I have a to do list that will never be completed. I'm late to everything, no matter how hard I try. It doesn't matter how much time I give myself to get ready, kids ready, and get there, I will be late. Inevitably something will go wrong or I will get sidetracked. My house is always a mess. I will dig down in one room, get it nice and clean, but every other room in the house is trashed. Within 30 minutes the room I just cleaned will be trashed too. (Don't worry I haven't food poisoned anyone. Underneath all of the clutter its all bleached.) I'd like to say this is all the kids, but dang it, I cannot get myself to put everything away <span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_0">every time</span>. To a super clean, organized person, I am a tragic case. I'm like the <span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_1">druggie</span> that people think sending to rehab a waste of time. <br /><br />Now don't get me wrong, I want to be more organized, on time, etc. I am constantly buying new things to organize myself, the house, or the kids. Every other week I have some new plan that will help me remember what needs done and keep myself organized. Everyday is a new day of "today I will not be late." AA would have kicked me out long ago. So, awhile ago I subscribed to this Real Simple email called "If you just do one thing." Everyday they send you an email with one thing you can do to get ahead of the game so to speak. Today's was, wait for it it's a good one, Make a Laundry Schedule. That's right a laundry schedule, as in on Monday I wash sheets, Tuesday towels, Wednesday whites, and so on. <span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_2">Supposedly</span> this will magically give me time to spare and more energy too! I nearly peed my pants laughing. Are they kidding me? Is my laundry going to take any less time because I did all of the sheets on Monday? Are the kids going to magically start changing their clothes less frequently? Stop wetting their beds? Really?<br /><br />Now I know somewhere out there some woman read that today and immediately whipped up a cute, embellished laundry schedule and posted it promptly for all to see. She probably even made a family home evening about organization to showcase her new chart. Tomorrow she will drive to the Hobby Lobby and buy the wood to make some sort of handy dandy Family Laundry Schedule. And it will look cute enough to be a decoration in her home, her family will follow it to a T and everyone's laundry will not be shoved under their beds. Next fall she will lead a super Saturday activity on how to make one. So lovely.<br /><br />I am clearly not this person. At my house if you find your pants drawer empty, first you cry to your mother, as this is clearly a tragedy. Then I instruct you to dig in "the laundry mountain" as it is known in our house. If all else fails, you have to dump out the hamper and find the cleanest pair. This usually involves more crying, imagine a lot of sobbing here, "Mom, why didn't you do the laundry yesterday? You said you would. Why aren't my pleather leggings clean? My sparkly one's are dirty too! What am I going to wear?!" Umm regular pants?<br /><br />For years I have felt rather guilty and bad about myself. I know it's dumb, but I do get really down on myself about the clutter, unfinished projects, lack of clean clothes, lateness, lost papers, lost checkbooks, lack of real groceries (sometimes), overdue everything, the list really goes on and on. Also, add a lot of self depreciating talk about why can't I be on time, EVER?! Every time I start one of my new "I'm going to be organized now" kicks, I dive in all or nothing. And then I obsess about it. If its not done perfect, I stress. The first day of being too busy to adhere to the laundry schedule will result in, well, making it worse. <br /><br />Now for those of you who haven't chucked your computers across the room by now, or unfriended me on Facebook (because I'm clearly crazy), let me assure you first, that I have a point, and second, I'm medicated so no worries. So here's my grand revelation. I am giving up. We are going to aim for good enough. As long as the basics are covered it's all good. The house will never be immaculate, or very clean for that matter, and tomorrow I am going to give my laundry the same minimal attention I always do. But who cares? Your favorite outfit might not be clean right away, but I'll get to it, eventually. And in the meantime I will aim to make sure you always have clean pants, food to eat, a cleanish home and maybe a few more chores. The kids papers will continue to pile up on my desk, but rest assured, the permission slips are signed and the reusable stuff has been reused for printing coupons, (which we can pretend I will organize with the new organizer I bought last week), and I will dig out the bills at least. As long as I get to everything eventually its all good.<br /><br />So if you happen to swing by before I have a chance to make it look like I cleaned, don't worry, I'll get to it.Lizhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13222488604258748311noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7314640044038690139.post-61417729357757167422011-03-18T21:30:00.000-07:002011-03-18T22:05:50.083-07:00Christmas part 2<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjD02oqTr1Uq3GxTMxyJMKW2qymhIZObqxhCSyP6nOxtMoD7ZUzgS0fD7qnMFExvTYYminajFhI_5ix-YzrOceVGdadNVzvj2ygM7omQMnoMXfX_pOOvJpwVoztqH_1YfBTg0vua4wsyd4/s1600/100_4599.JPG"><img style="display: block; margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 200px; height: 150px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjD02oqTr1Uq3GxTMxyJMKW2qymhIZObqxhCSyP6nOxtMoD7ZUzgS0fD7qnMFExvTYYminajFhI_5ix-YzrOceVGdadNVzvj2ygM7omQMnoMXfX_pOOvJpwVoztqH_1YfBTg0vua4wsyd4/s200/100_4599.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5585648614781647154" border="0" /></a>It was pretty cool to be able to celebrate Christmas in OUR OWN HOME for the first time in 12 years of marriage. Its nice to be able to staple a ridiculous amount of decorations to the ceiling and walls without having to worry about patching them up when we move out. Nope we're leaving them all for the next owners. Dave read the kids "Twas the night before Christmas" before we began the hours long task of getting 4 kids to bed on Christmas Eve.<br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjeGmYTXPOIo3wwSAXFM2mdv-z4NpYzXtW_jVcwUI4ydZTSPHucirzsSu2EdDoGPR_EVDNfwjT-7gSP1V0A3vrvkTItzCnWLY2ae7JNsWxfDsTX90O-u_ppJ9JADG5W0t4YDgOgzliWWOk/s1600/100_4603.JPG"><img style="display: block; margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 150px; height: 200px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjeGmYTXPOIo3wwSAXFM2mdv-z4NpYzXtW_jVcwUI4ydZTSPHucirzsSu2EdDoGPR_EVDNfwjT-7gSP1V0A3vrvkTItzCnWLY2ae7JNsWxfDsTX90O-u_ppJ9JADG5W0t4YDgOgzliWWOk/s200/100_4603.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5585648612438377506" border="0" /></a>Hailey and Greg eagerly waiting to come in the living room and see all of their presents. I really like to see the kids faces when they come out on Christmas morning, so they are under no circumstances to leave their rooms until we are up. This year we told the girls they could run across the hall to the boys' room and yell into the baby monitor until we woke up. Nothing like waking up to 4 children screaming "WAKE UP MOM AND DAD! WAKE UP NOW!"<br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgqUuH0xR-F7geTR3GeCtc7_JNFGJzQfIXX-Zd_hDePX8H0dbiptmDQXjsQLyQXcBtKqff6VaFhc2jWi3iVn18srpX3PoyeP-dfq5NNIJz2M05OBooORu1pAoPaz5M0mwJ0Rc3UkUugguM/s1600/100_4614.JPG"><img style="display: block; margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 150px; height: 200px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgqUuH0xR-F7geTR3GeCtc7_JNFGJzQfIXX-Zd_hDePX8H0dbiptmDQXjsQLyQXcBtKqff6VaFhc2jWi3iVn18srpX3PoyeP-dfq5NNIJz2M05OBooORu1pAoPaz5M0mwJ0Rc3UkUugguM/s200/100_4614.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5585648602825673202" border="0" /></a>McKenzie, the world's most subdued 9 year old waiting for her presents.<br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj_HGLnV24lTAuQlMPwRAccaz948kxHZnttCcPelAgbP29kxjveHAGyVtJ81xMiNHaAri_QJkQ-LaoiaGvQSRxSpfKn2-CPSNTl4VT_i0ki237NI6oRTR66qkZpi6udBV8pDD4WiNG77Kk/s1600/100_4609.JPG"><img style="display: block; margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 150px; height: 200px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj_HGLnV24lTAuQlMPwRAccaz948kxHZnttCcPelAgbP29kxjveHAGyVtJ81xMiNHaAri_QJkQ-LaoiaGvQSRxSpfKn2-CPSNTl4VT_i0ki237NI6oRTR66qkZpi6udBV8pDD4WiNG77Kk/s200/100_4609.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5585648599056099378" border="0" /></a>Hailey has great aspirations of being a famous rock star, she has some pretty interesting Beyonce moves she definately did not learn from us. Santa brought her a guitar this year. Yes we are that stupid.<br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgRzPjZOxq-ZAA3c5D-43xy-ZPLG-tkiHGiq6WI1fd8wJAJ4hoJksPhn2KnxSIfNNU3AkTyRL516ujAXSQFEp9G1efNZOnSqzr-ePzUcAQ0rbKmo3u6YF5hG7HJh9CknvLo63MxLaPZBzo/s1600/100_4607.JPG"><img style="display: block; margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 150px; height: 200px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgRzPjZOxq-ZAA3c5D-43xy-ZPLG-tkiHGiq6WI1fd8wJAJ4hoJksPhn2KnxSIfNNU3AkTyRL516ujAXSQFEp9G1efNZOnSqzr-ePzUcAQ0rbKmo3u6YF5hG7HJh9CknvLo63MxLaPZBzo/s200/100_4607.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5585648594271161218" border="0" /></a>The boys have become completely obsessed with Star Wars. Their $5 day after Thanksgiving light sabers were the big hit of the day. I could have saved myself a lot of money and just got them that. Connor stomps around all day singing the Imperial March to himself in da da da dums.<br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgUIJbNtxtaB5pqGBvT3l3b2DXufFcbdkRBKuL_RGhaEZ8F9lf2SoP_uJXfF9k0TayEpqwwI-W-oPfYDfysDRg4PpBLgfRjxrOtB03b1yyuOyhNOGUwWLIhLBvrVsdnAZvGLuG_7Vtwa9w/s1600/100_4611.JPG"><img style="display: block; margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 150px; height: 200px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgUIJbNtxtaB5pqGBvT3l3b2DXufFcbdkRBKuL_RGhaEZ8F9lf2SoP_uJXfF9k0TayEpqwwI-W-oPfYDfysDRg4PpBLgfRjxrOtB03b1yyuOyhNOGUwWLIhLBvrVsdnAZvGLuG_7Vtwa9w/s200/100_4611.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5585645723765714482" border="0" /></a>No Christmas would be complete without the gift with 1000 pieces. What better gift for a wild 3 year old could there possibly be? Thanks mom and dad.<br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhGKQ5NLd4pY8rkphTGgIlgnr1b43kmW9I64l7aggC07Nxl6XHiqyDG0VbMAMy1pHr-DK5mzZulgiSQ0HmJhAqfbGTpw-MqS5kGtMLkcJGWK_zaLM6n6APLh0krK63tzfB3mHvzY6f-Aqk/s1600/100_4615.JPG"><img style="display: block; margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 200px; height: 150px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhGKQ5NLd4pY8rkphTGgIlgnr1b43kmW9I64l7aggC07Nxl6XHiqyDG0VbMAMy1pHr-DK5mzZulgiSQ0HmJhAqfbGTpw-MqS5kGtMLkcJGWK_zaLM6n6APLh0krK63tzfB3mHvzY6f-Aqk/s200/100_4615.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5585645720678381826" border="0" /></a><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhB85bHNpGJN_HZ8asVvlJdbMN3zzUUxuyZZXy6M808tLwUqIFQduZdXHUaVPXn61bdXaR7z5FmaeHIwcvQFjHrJUGSDRS6ZJAIl-maw6Kof6PbZCWtG0p4dkXLRWC94WhKYQ1_dDVNGLQ/s1600/100_4644.JPG"><img style="display: block; margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 200px; height: 150px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhB85bHNpGJN_HZ8asVvlJdbMN3zzUUxuyZZXy6M808tLwUqIFQduZdXHUaVPXn61bdXaR7z5FmaeHIwcvQFjHrJUGSDRS6ZJAIl-maw6Kof6PbZCWtG0p4dkXLRWC94WhKYQ1_dDVNGLQ/s200/100_4644.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5585645716001567810" border="0" /></a>Playing Apples to Apples with Maddy and Sadie. <br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEimbbH5zombatHuVZt6Jhc97oZsPBYwC2Z5bfLSHU0imW8FS2NCbu28qSuXaIpPhm90_uj8XQwhlSBfrg7wLlB5cEcCPKUvoAikzwww5u-vnmADCqEUOgHCjD6WEcNjTzIpFKei7J4rUMs/s1600/100_4645.JPG"><img style="display: block; margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 200px; height: 150px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEimbbH5zombatHuVZt6Jhc97oZsPBYwC2Z5bfLSHU0imW8FS2NCbu28qSuXaIpPhm90_uj8XQwhlSBfrg7wLlB5cEcCPKUvoAikzwww5u-vnmADCqEUOgHCjD6WEcNjTzIpFKei7J4rUMs/s200/100_4645.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5585645711181657618" border="0" /></a>Even though we all live across from the country from each other now, the kids still get back together like they were never apart each time. Hailey and Maddy have such a special relationship, I hope and think they will always be friends.<br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi2ZOceJKf1Lua4m6lTVj16pnLs3436KnqIczWmtim203knODa8wN_phkoSLP5_tUapDgIniDQWtDz_Awg-vn8GRHzGc1V6MCFwfMuOWPPxRauE8WIbfd5iD4sRvQDpkcmf4Q5_TigfGnU/s1600/100_4662.JPG"><img style="display: block; margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 200px; height: 150px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi2ZOceJKf1Lua4m6lTVj16pnLs3436KnqIczWmtim203knODa8wN_phkoSLP5_tUapDgIniDQWtDz_Awg-vn8GRHzGc1V6MCFwfMuOWPPxRauE8WIbfd5iD4sRvQDpkcmf4Q5_TigfGnU/s200/100_4662.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5585644296287934722" border="0" /></a>Connor and Jack became fast friends.<br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhQ6i8Uha4tFKdshawKfPT_5TGpotbl-lrv9V_ofPTs_9vnI4mOI0K0Nz3UPasaYw-W_oH5gjpS2bGIbjti9X4-0WxpAb7wuz1g9NsfeW4I7dsxIjO6l6b5peNoYQ2yqzezqUUYnGHVbz8/s1600/100_4664.JPG"><img style="display: block; margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 200px; height: 150px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhQ6i8Uha4tFKdshawKfPT_5TGpotbl-lrv9V_ofPTs_9vnI4mOI0K0Nz3UPasaYw-W_oH5gjpS2bGIbjti9X4-0WxpAb7wuz1g9NsfeW4I7dsxIjO6l6b5peNoYQ2yqzezqUUYnGHVbz8/s200/100_4664.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5585644292945998258" border="0" /></a><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEidko5wbr27lM6W3xnzcMQZXZYuS6Bwje-6TubLUy7MsnxOQH44olgZ98dxYZ3-anfcpZSWadtz_Kl-amSL1zCANGSTwEW4mCDAkE-gZk5fTw3tRgb6s-DJUQmny1uTBPxmotR7WTxn_Pw/s1600/100_4666.JPG"><img style="display: block; margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 200px; height: 150px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEidko5wbr27lM6W3xnzcMQZXZYuS6Bwje-6TubLUy7MsnxOQH44olgZ98dxYZ3-anfcpZSWadtz_Kl-amSL1zCANGSTwEW4mCDAkE-gZk5fTw3tRgb6s-DJUQmny1uTBPxmotR7WTxn_Pw/s200/100_4666.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5585644286092850898" border="0" /></a>The Campbell and Huisman kiddos, minus Sadie who decided she didn't want to be photographed today. Hard to believe that Nik and I now have 8 kids between the two of us. Its a long way from the old days when we could just run around town in our clunker cars, doing whatever we want, guzzling Mt. Dew. Now its more like hanging out in a daycare, we've traded our clunkers for mini vans, and now have to do what the kids want. Except for the fact that its now diet, the Mt. Dew is the one hold over. Maybe when our kids all move out, we can be neighbors again and hang out all day doing absolutely nothing.<br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhqh0dHcmJ2tHnDKDpHY6wpe7dIlNrlnryR-q_GPsLB_MoBwNAjasz20vF5WTUe-b9jW5sO5wBi9DSdyueWGbbcCuhvplCShkbYuhbNz5-3AFzHzFtPBbtCikxkLax5HGUhWGdjxiFHN9E/s1600/100_4667.JPG"><img style="display: block; margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 200px; height: 150px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhqh0dHcmJ2tHnDKDpHY6wpe7dIlNrlnryR-q_GPsLB_MoBwNAjasz20vF5WTUe-b9jW5sO5wBi9DSdyueWGbbcCuhvplCShkbYuhbNz5-3AFzHzFtPBbtCikxkLax5HGUhWGdjxiFHN9E/s200/100_4667.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5585644282722720850" border="0" /></a>Lizhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13222488604258748311noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7314640044038690139.post-90221539882462563542011-03-18T20:25:00.000-07:002011-03-18T21:30:16.336-07:00Christmas part 1I, of course managed to somehow post these out of order so bear with me.<br />We went up to 4th of July Pass to cut down our tree, just like good Paulitz's do. And in true Paulitz tradition, got a tree at least 2 sizes too big for our house, so in other words, perfect. It was a little like the old days of my Dad's ginormous trees when you sat on our couch and had tree limbs in your face. And you pretty much couldn't use the living room for anything besides tree watching. In an amazing display of helpfulness, Carl decided to help Dave haul our tree down the hill. He was probably angling for a Pepsi.<br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgyheIoOCztBie_L9KVSOlakl_A2fCSDvaidJNPjt4q9k4OTKxnsbInEjAbsSj2qIM8bOr7u4Cj-nNDDbRHagINRoIlFHceD36MC79z7gdZ7TJpoSQ5_zLf4EU7p0nDUGCN_lYv_NYfOl4/s1600/100_4571.JPG"><img style="display: block; margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 200px; height: 150px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgyheIoOCztBie_L9KVSOlakl_A2fCSDvaidJNPjt4q9k4OTKxnsbInEjAbsSj2qIM8bOr7u4Cj-nNDDbRHagINRoIlFHceD36MC79z7gdZ7TJpoSQ5_zLf4EU7p0nDUGCN_lYv_NYfOl4/s200/100_4571.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5585631111158710162" border="0" /></a><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgccx0uDSUvzD9OQghnl9spCOYSXKlYkyAlguTo3-FOO7w9fIDdhCRWUaM5NuFqT9xu4hyphenhyphen8HIYbmak64YoHb7urqsP0PL4a0vuhTa72inF9_QlUOQV-tDMtb7D6-vs30maByq-4k-RQx3Q/s1600/100_4601.JPG"><img style="display: block; margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 1px; height: 1px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgccx0uDSUvzD9OQghnl9spCOYSXKlYkyAlguTo3-FOO7w9fIDdhCRWUaM5NuFqT9xu4hyphenhyphen8HIYbmak64YoHb7urqsP0PL4a0vuhTa72inF9_QlUOQV-tDMtb7D6-vs30maByq-4k-RQx3Q/s200/100_4601.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5585629408952888818" border="0" /></a>We stole a tradition from our friends, Nik and Da, and let the kids sleep out under the tree one night during Christmas. The first year we made the mistake of sleeping on the floor with the kids. Never again. This year we did it a couple of days after Christmas, and our kids had the added treat of having Maddie and Sadie sleep over. <br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiJnXn4r6_VExytsplLznQ7hz9MU_hdmoz7gAevg2cfvzAzBPOo8ylJ2bjItpGe2oxlKUnmqhjPZ2ARp1lEQLhNcyLolVmhTXeBpUN9SwCANRDdPb5uL2S4IqJIB7BwYGq8WJv8UjgHEXw/s1600/100_4597.JPG"><img style="display: block; margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 200px; height: 150px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiJnXn4r6_VExytsplLznQ7hz9MU_hdmoz7gAevg2cfvzAzBPOo8ylJ2bjItpGe2oxlKUnmqhjPZ2ARp1lEQLhNcyLolVmhTXeBpUN9SwCANRDdPb5uL2S4IqJIB7BwYGq8WJv8UjgHEXw/s200/100_4597.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5585629404423619394" border="0" /></a><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEglCgKD5xL3AsFc0h6frUOLh9d2myLtJvibBG-uIf1hTP8wnCHgfoVHNE_sf6tgSnfRVfF8Vl-Rj76lIz0WPQmHWEAbJfQc4zhpgn-EfDd74umsVGsDp04cZvBUwhuu8wt2563DXnEecPU/s1600/100_4594.JPG"><img style="display: block; margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 1px; height: 1px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEglCgKD5xL3AsFc0h6frUOLh9d2myLtJvibBG-uIf1hTP8wnCHgfoVHNE_sf6tgSnfRVfF8Vl-Rj76lIz0WPQmHWEAbJfQc4zhpgn-EfDd74umsVGsDp04cZvBUwhuu8wt2563DXnEecPU/s200/100_4594.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5585629394298613330" border="0" /></a>Sometimes there just aren't words. My child went to school like this because it was cold.<br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgFuZgNoooT-AhWZbrpfbPFkpukeqyCHYxGiVbeQoEqYvd2j0VYdy5d3XUT-PhVVeaKCR8Qd1_s7KPkKVW-2B-XOnoYsNuxzOe6ipCiaTyVXliGYQKF3ssDE5rS9QVzjRPct_eT6CICA8U/s1600/100_4581.JPG"><img style="display: block; margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 200px; height: 150px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgFuZgNoooT-AhWZbrpfbPFkpukeqyCHYxGiVbeQoEqYvd2j0VYdy5d3XUT-PhVVeaKCR8Qd1_s7KPkKVW-2B-XOnoYsNuxzOe6ipCiaTyVXliGYQKF3ssDE5rS9QVzjRPct_eT6CICA8U/s200/100_4581.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5585629390044634786" border="0" /></a><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiccU5znmKsxi0r6Mu_TpanTQdaN-PXu0S7gVrSzJ3hxXGthLPO_c1Wx-oFBYxOgTK3HrT52mWNk9GBp-RStOb1Py6_3albUfLqM2Pqk1NJb8iUSxPgKTXk_alD6Dwzj5X9utJvjHZMOpA/s1600/100_4580.JPG"><img style="display: block; margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 200px; height: 150px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiccU5znmKsxi0r6Mu_TpanTQdaN-PXu0S7gVrSzJ3hxXGthLPO_c1Wx-oFBYxOgTK3HrT52mWNk9GBp-RStOb1Py6_3albUfLqM2Pqk1NJb8iUSxPgKTXk_alD6Dwzj5X9utJvjHZMOpA/s200/100_4580.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5585629388717969618" border="0" /></a>My boys enjoying some hot cocoa and cookies after our trek into the woods for a tree.<br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiOrAwKsV1Ob-9h5t6VKcK_jil-rGwSFKQNK7TZdtL33rvVjmZOUHne9gHTIvYGmRT5_iFto7yztPJrogo-aQy0_goRTt6FqkMhyphenhyphenhAfOosQuch-1MeoYJMoFj9wU2U-1n537m9QwX7WS2Q/s1600/100_4576.JPG"><img style="display: block; margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 200px; height: 150px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiOrAwKsV1Ob-9h5t6VKcK_jil-rGwSFKQNK7TZdtL33rvVjmZOUHne9gHTIvYGmRT5_iFto7yztPJrogo-aQy0_goRTt6FqkMhyphenhyphenhAfOosQuch-1MeoYJMoFj9wU2U-1n537m9QwX7WS2Q/s200/100_4576.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5585628296336957042" border="0" /></a>As we were coming down the hill with our tree, we saw these people unloading a sled and dogs. Not something you see everyday, at least here. We all stood around watching these poor women wrangle their dogs into harnesses before taking off. <br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgGmeZ2XQgM2fxTnXCSNsPrIMswdc47WQDHy7lc1aOvrcow58pVUSiFh9UYEDK0-1NNOtdiQHKjRgvAUL_S_p45gy50QgVIXfF5_FUSrKz2F94nGVgIAZSnHm3szZsWTI1s30ulFj0m4Cc/s1600/100_4573.JPG"><img style="display: block; margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 200px; height: 150px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgGmeZ2XQgM2fxTnXCSNsPrIMswdc47WQDHy7lc1aOvrcow58pVUSiFh9UYEDK0-1NNOtdiQHKjRgvAUL_S_p45gy50QgVIXfF5_FUSrKz2F94nGVgIAZSnHm3szZsWTI1s30ulFj0m4Cc/s200/100_4573.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5585628290667278674" border="0" /></a>In order to haul the huge tree back to the car, we had to chop off some of the branches. We wanted to take them all home so we could make a wreath and a bough so we told all the kids they each had to carry some. True to form, Greg threw himself down like we were killing him, and announced it was too hard. Connor grabbed some branches and took off. He fell a few times, but he got right back up and kept on trucking.<br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgsQ9ZsoKTRPbD6jPoHVFUn655FekGWcJCmLt7BNNf_m4XVilfdnQh_gcao5-ZMyH5CrB2ojeQ5hgSbtkac8eyWyOhbV6-T2ymOwdK7C3rOdaY17GSP5hGRuGgVjMDTGRoahYC7ZYrzSE4/s1600/100_4569.JPG"><img style="display: block; margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 200px; height: 150px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgsQ9ZsoKTRPbD6jPoHVFUn655FekGWcJCmLt7BNNf_m4XVilfdnQh_gcao5-ZMyH5CrB2ojeQ5hgSbtkac8eyWyOhbV6-T2ymOwdK7C3rOdaY17GSP5hGRuGgVjMDTGRoahYC7ZYrzSE4/s200/100_4569.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5585628284243743074" border="0" /></a>We climbed up a very steep hill, searching for a tree. Hailey followed us the whole way. Finally something that tires the kid out.<br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhigaRHLU9mCFYeJdZY2p2SJWWZBHaLv1nvR4jWo0IIAzrP-BIhd-SzxlTdHd29E13XuDyJu2-2-N2GlpxE40dnUsr2H1RWQRZR0V3fL1BztYt6GML-pRo-gAr2lcKNvqKpbhUYSw_9-HQ/s1600/100_4565.JPG"><img style="display: block; margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 200px; height: 150px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhigaRHLU9mCFYeJdZY2p2SJWWZBHaLv1nvR4jWo0IIAzrP-BIhd-SzxlTdHd29E13XuDyJu2-2-N2GlpxE40dnUsr2H1RWQRZR0V3fL1BztYt6GML-pRo-gAr2lcKNvqKpbhUYSw_9-HQ/s200/100_4565.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5585628278663715602" border="0" /></a><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg9m20d5fYcwWTj4V-7X6myFNXAWOhw6oRDndF4R_M1xXJWY9iqZOOdwyioXK2y97xT7zDNi0C4ZG4mO9THEJUwBBN5GvxKq0qB2kQr4m49iJwWyOnFJoV55cYZOT7FLXNVw5uTPKusi7o/s1600/100_4564.JPG"><img style="display: block; margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 200px; height: 150px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg9m20d5fYcwWTj4V-7X6myFNXAWOhw6oRDndF4R_M1xXJWY9iqZOOdwyioXK2y97xT7zDNi0C4ZG4mO9THEJUwBBN5GvxKq0qB2kQr4m49iJwWyOnFJoV55cYZOT7FLXNVw5uTPKusi7o/s200/100_4564.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5585628273841575186" border="0" /></a><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjFl4Zk-rnW3rb72PsxCtv2hWaCBjbcebfN0_2IEHXnd-HbLE6yK5FjNi4s7wDf1NhayCdA2a2JV6VGfqTjClODQ-I-GT1S9e6Dj3lekbNQzvaAqbyeob-7KOKYvWllC8ZHU7WFcGQw_SU/s1600/100_4562.JPG"><img style="display: block; margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 200px; height: 150px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjFl4Zk-rnW3rb72PsxCtv2hWaCBjbcebfN0_2IEHXnd-HbLE6yK5FjNi4s7wDf1NhayCdA2a2JV6VGfqTjClODQ-I-GT1S9e6Dj3lekbNQzvaAqbyeob-7KOKYvWllC8ZHU7WFcGQw_SU/s200/100_4562.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5585627570474358322" border="0" /></a>The kids were pretending to be penguins, sliding down this hill on their bellies. Poor Connor just couldn't get back up. Kenzie had to drag him back up each time by his hood.<br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgwt4D4mMpajC92rVQ-8epsr5xQF7dDDrxgCW4AiVVQg8NVFjV9-mpJHJbKL3NJv223JQ99v_2hdnKQZSUIwnDHMW9PXphj6wlsftNZXNZF33a3bCXpxgOpQlYUy3ru_xcUQUpCNfNUl5Y/s1600/100_4559.JPG"><img style="display: block; margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 200px; height: 150px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgwt4D4mMpajC92rVQ-8epsr5xQF7dDDrxgCW4AiVVQg8NVFjV9-mpJHJbKL3NJv223JQ99v_2hdnKQZSUIwnDHMW9PXphj6wlsftNZXNZF33a3bCXpxgOpQlYUy3ru_xcUQUpCNfNUl5Y/s200/100_4559.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5585627563862132354" border="0" /></a><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjiU7nI_9MpJf2IQVzw4sUWENEntFe2_1ektJp-c3qWxKp6NqTXMLC1z4PPLUTEmh3-SLgQerYx1LniF2gy4lXLqsgaWVSd1KRZafJTe7207aelrroKLvTEHhhZ4IguGU3GSYHR8RVMFno/s1600/100_4554.JPG"><img style="display: block; margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 200px; height: 150px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjiU7nI_9MpJf2IQVzw4sUWENEntFe2_1ektJp-c3qWxKp6NqTXMLC1z4PPLUTEmh3-SLgQerYx1LniF2gy4lXLqsgaWVSd1KRZafJTe7207aelrroKLvTEHhhZ4IguGU3GSYHR8RVMFno/s200/100_4554.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5585627556056502578" border="0" /></a>We made our yearly trip to the Christmas parade, fireworks, and tree lighting in Coeur d Alene. It had been bitterly cold, and we had a ton of snow, so all the kids are bundled up to the hilt. The parking lot snow piles by the car made for great climbing and butt sledding.<br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEikYJapzi-_UD5A6PSdher2Q4b5XzBNjyZUNkrEBDySqi0z4mroXPRbjU9AH-P5yElYbjfdx-fgxXEgIYPhW98DJuMk3Sd-L046PguffXht8dj-GizikBUvRDOnjZVbq_EEAolqOfF1L6M/s1600/100_4551.JPG"><img style="display: block; margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 200px; height: 150px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEikYJapzi-_UD5A6PSdher2Q4b5XzBNjyZUNkrEBDySqi0z4mroXPRbjU9AH-P5yElYbjfdx-fgxXEgIYPhW98DJuMk3Sd-L046PguffXht8dj-GizikBUvRDOnjZVbq_EEAolqOfF1L6M/s200/100_4551.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5585627553140425010" border="0" /></a>Lizhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13222488604258748311noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7314640044038690139.post-55490962976922869382011-02-28T20:55:00.000-08:002011-02-28T21:07:21.985-08:00What Goes Around Comes AroundIt's a pretty well known fact that I was not the easiest child for my parents to raise. I also have a reputation of being a bit of a spazzy mistake maker. For example, car care. Not so much with the parking skills, making right turns without driving over the curb, every single time, not checking the oil (that's a whole other story) and so on.<br /><br />So about 8 years ago when Hailey was a baby, the girls and I came up to go to my brother's college graduation in Moscow. My Dad and I drove down in his Honda. I, of course left the lights on in the parking lot and killed the battery. We got the car jumped and all that, but apparently Honda's have an anti-theft feature that requires you to enter a special code after the stereo has been detached from battery power. Seems as how he bought a used Honda, he didn't have the magic code and drove around with no stereo for 6 years until he finally broke down and paid the dealership guys 50 bucks to find it.<br /><br />Here we are, years later, and I have more little monsters and my own used Honda. Needless to say my own charming children left a light on and killed my battery. It caused some mayhem getting to church yesterday, but no biggie. Imagine my surprise when I hopped in my car today, and my stereo kept flashing "code". At first I was thinking "that's strange" but then I made the connection. My kids had done to me the exact thing I'd done to my Dad's car! The horror! The irony! I of course called my Dad right off, knowing that hearing that the exact same thing has happened to me would just make his day. I'm sure I've painted a picture in his mind of the gloriousness of my kids doing to me all that I did to them. As Dave said paybacks a "B"Lizhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13222488604258748311noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7314640044038690139.post-67975955220365501372011-02-10T23:54:00.000-08:002011-03-17T14:51:20.528-07:00Random Fall<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiXk9tGGP0u5gMDliRp1gn-lIcaM95TlHh81EAR069CDcErzZkzbk89Ozzg8B7eAI5QlyA1RkY2PiI0VcOMlVIdcqIEBJMVezDZWvdKLox0zfw9Bp3E2yr5nIGuzLy42jUW1d8FyCTI3Rc/s1600/100_4531.JPG"><img style="display: block; margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 200px; height: 150px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiXk9tGGP0u5gMDliRp1gn-lIcaM95TlHh81EAR069CDcErzZkzbk89Ozzg8B7eAI5QlyA1RkY2PiI0VcOMlVIdcqIEBJMVezDZWvdKLox0zfw9Bp3E2yr5nIGuzLy42jUW1d8FyCTI3Rc/s200/100_4531.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5572340479316506786" border="0" /></a>Connor falls in with his sister as being one of those totally random kids that just do weird stuff. For reasons unknown he decided to open a new package of wipes and stick it to his head before getting back in his bed to take a nap. We just never know what we're going to find when that kid is left alone.<br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjJXDwHslcmJfMmI9MNWJfd4xPncL0K8zSiOlonwYh0MtYD8Iwr_tDwJVClJUa2k4y73fzSx23e7ZIApZrjGf6otUns2pp8yLXp3MQZR3nBCZ2ak5eLy3xJ7xwU3ndVSTOOhOD_Ekb9cmk/s1600/100_4514.JPG"><img style="display: block; margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 150px; height: 200px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjJXDwHslcmJfMmI9MNWJfd4xPncL0K8zSiOlonwYh0MtYD8Iwr_tDwJVClJUa2k4y73fzSx23e7ZIApZrjGf6otUns2pp8yLXp3MQZR3nBCZ2ak5eLy3xJ7xwU3ndVSTOOhOD_Ekb9cmk/s200/100_4514.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5572340475634969522" border="0" /></a>I really slacked off on picture taking at Halloween for some reason. Sometimes walking an extra 10 feet to grab the camera or plug into the printer is just more than I can do apparently. The girls dressed as 50's girls together. It's hard to tell, but Hailey has a really cute pink poodle skirt, I found at a thrift store with a matching sweater set. The girls did have high, 50's style pony tails with ribbons earlier, but their hair is so dang slippery things just fall out, and about 1 brushing a day is all they can take. Notice Connor's lack of a costume? No I am not too lazy to get the kid a costume. Just as Hailey needs sensory input from everything, Connor gets overwhelmed. His dinosaur costume had a hat and elastic at the wrists and ankles and he was having none of it. We consider the fact that he is wearing shoes (albeit without socks) an accomplishment.<br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiXNO6GzxPBcBpLdZNc586yLZ5KW5IOvbZI7Iyd3_KEaj-V-5x84iJ6ogVzDNVX4X1hkNIDNT_dCyJeaopYBgjdVcWuyNE1KYRj_CGVZaDXXGV6Kt-akrpja4OYmVQS0cCrNNCA8nnmp24/s1600/100_4512.JPG"><img style="display: block; margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 200px; height: 150px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiXNO6GzxPBcBpLdZNc586yLZ5KW5IOvbZI7Iyd3_KEaj-V-5x84iJ6ogVzDNVX4X1hkNIDNT_dCyJeaopYBgjdVcWuyNE1KYRj_CGVZaDXXGV6Kt-akrpja4OYmVQS0cCrNNCA8nnmp24/s200/100_4512.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5572340472964535522" border="0" /></a>I love taking pictures of my kids in the fall leaves. <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_0">Nik</span> and I started trekking to the University of Idaho campus a couple of years ago when we lived in Pullman, and I've kept it going around here. Usually I take the kiddos up to <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_1">Manito</span> Park, but now that we have this huge maple in our front yard, I can save myself a trip. While the maple is beautiful, I never knew a tree could drop so many leaves a day. I think we went out and raked everyday and still didn't get them all up before it snowed.<br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgcpog5eKWQvOzdtY3MRpy_rXPTy1uKtClpAPhj2xU-FtSvMmIoUE2bxWOrnJmHxGwr-NtZM1HmitJBWJ_O1KvumoHn-MqeGDWGbQ-qx3WbZ9knDtigg1y_Od-oDHGRzptcifT_NIUrk30/s1600/100_4501.JPG"><img style="display: block; margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 200px; height: 150px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgcpog5eKWQvOzdtY3MRpy_rXPTy1uKtClpAPhj2xU-FtSvMmIoUE2bxWOrnJmHxGwr-NtZM1HmitJBWJ_O1KvumoHn-MqeGDWGbQ-qx3WbZ9knDtigg1y_Od-oDHGRzptcifT_NIUrk30/s200/100_4501.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5572340464175448914" border="0" /></a><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhPgXi9REpM2xBYOzPBYO9HUlwGRKZidhw2MW2SBk2Xllktoe5zB6FUOofL3Ibl-RpxN37yZ939-sSad2wulgj91YirfHPURFa8IkCSG_fMAnRTqL_q0AAJjWZVKaVy1IwkZu1JxSlUbi4/s1600/100_4456.JPG"><img style="display: block; margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 200px; height: 150px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhPgXi9REpM2xBYOzPBYO9HUlwGRKZidhw2MW2SBk2Xllktoe5zB6FUOofL3Ibl-RpxN37yZ939-sSad2wulgj91YirfHPURFa8IkCSG_fMAnRTqL_q0AAJjWZVKaVy1IwkZu1JxSlUbi4/s200/100_4456.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5572340458677723938" border="0" /></a>Connor is the world's best helper. He is better than any of the other kids about helping out. He just jumps right in. We bought a kid sized rake and snow shovel, its just too darn cute. Sometimes I want to freeze that kid in time so he never grows up.<br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjo8PKZ5q0esEMV3zR5g0q5Sm9bK68M2epkcPMXa5v_umaKQdRfrYhT936hZJA6X8lyFSx2qVqlBU6RG8thIjZiQ0oW-oj3Y0S_NO2iXiUUBn3lwuG4LsTp0GF-dVLZFiMstWOeYaLicW0/s1600/100_4449.JPG"><img style="display: block; margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 150px; height: 200px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjo8PKZ5q0esEMV3zR5g0q5Sm9bK68M2epkcPMXa5v_umaKQdRfrYhT936hZJA6X8lyFSx2qVqlBU6RG8thIjZiQ0oW-oj3Y0S_NO2iXiUUBn3lwuG4LsTp0GF-dVLZFiMstWOeYaLicW0/s200/100_4449.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5572339445759301922" border="0" /></a>Greg's preschool co-op took a field trip up to Green Bluff. I wish I could remember the name of the farm. We paid a flat fee per kid and got a train ride, corn maze, and a pumpkin. Having spent several years living in southern Idaho and Utah, we've been through a lot of corn mazes. Those things seem like they are the hot entertainment ticket around there in the fall. The one up in Green Bluff had a new twist on it we liked. As you wind your way through the corn, you get to a lawn in the center, with a series of hedges you have to navigate through to get to the rest of the corn maze. Rising high above the mazes in the middle is a huge castle (well in comparison to the general scheme of things.) It was 3 stories high and all painted up inside to look like a <span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_2">medieval</span> castle. At the end of the maze is a playground with a pirate ship as the main structure. Oh and a "zoo", which is actually a cage full of giant stuffed animals, that the kids all found strangely intriguing.<br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjc_NBZ68H4IBC7BwfrWOEHSUz0SHBzTy0iH1SaaQ4CzHiN5W2EDax1oJVt3JpKNbHJXyYsCmiUWLMCCrvz1wOk3KouSjYGybPsFcEGznZoLD_KHs7JpW1vUozczYbubYcBZO5_6GxGlss/s1600/100_4439.JPG"><img style="display: block; margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 200px; height: 150px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjc_NBZ68H4IBC7BwfrWOEHSUz0SHBzTy0iH1SaaQ4CzHiN5W2EDax1oJVt3JpKNbHJXyYsCmiUWLMCCrvz1wOk3KouSjYGybPsFcEGznZoLD_KHs7JpW1vUozczYbubYcBZO5_6GxGlss/s200/100_4439.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5572339435047724946" border="0" /> </a><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjwCv0Y33SvsBTxKBDtbb45LJj9Zaw0znhphkCc91XGHZQ89ui9ruMxyRrtLXr90AI7ulZgoc5u7Tpbm2Wlkiuom8AM8yL5YhW4JsM6Op_0LhNM9oj9x8WYIK8JEHOe-CK9AeOSpd34s90/s1600/100_4426.JPG"><img style="display: block; margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 200px; height: 150px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjwCv0Y33SvsBTxKBDtbb45LJj9Zaw0znhphkCc91XGHZQ89ui9ruMxyRrtLXr90AI7ulZgoc5u7Tpbm2Wlkiuom8AM8yL5YhW4JsM6Op_0LhNM9oj9x8WYIK8JEHOe-CK9AeOSpd34s90/s200/100_4426.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5572339432254254786" border="0" /></a>My boys on the farm's train.<br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg_viYoyJstRmJt-rfGAcBCsQow6xHLiqGzjjFTtKN07KS1kbES4WTCmYIFK1ggeY2EKbR6f6tt8AjE4tc9y_ENXuBBL194FxCn8oBWESbJZmSIa61ToBLyeWvB5nC-XubCaapeEq3OoiQ/s1600/100_4425.JPG"><img style="display: block; margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 200px; height: 150px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg_viYoyJstRmJt-rfGAcBCsQow6xHLiqGzjjFTtKN07KS1kbES4WTCmYIFK1ggeY2EKbR6f6tt8AjE4tc9y_ENXuBBL194FxCn8oBWESbJZmSIa61ToBLyeWvB5nC-XubCaapeEq3OoiQ/s200/100_4425.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5572339425258318114" border="0" /></a><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgjJFjblajk9xA8audX3W1lw2QVNr6Xv8Ezp2_wge0Ixwro8ljcq1yH1tHOvBs_XfxTEOWeyeCTvBHVTuWjIJiHgIJwstEJ1SlnG-Lzaqw0qkqCy5alzY5C5r54gXQQN6r3Vz-mGx72KkY/s1600/100_4404.jpg"><br /></a><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjGyIjmvdZogIVqW2MbqKI9K2wz_pcuRAYIZ4FDAobXiV8GPFrqMWgx4_ZVuYPfjFpYKyv6zBMYegA8MZ3IaZiyXeo4ppubDvw4SuAesFQrt6Gj61e2gI4lAcIbMdWKojRsipZbP_LVV5Q/s1600/100_4396.jpg"><img style="display: block; margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 200px; height: 150px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjGyIjmvdZogIVqW2MbqKI9K2wz_pcuRAYIZ4FDAobXiV8GPFrqMWgx4_ZVuYPfjFpYKyv6zBMYegA8MZ3IaZiyXeo4ppubDvw4SuAesFQrt6Gj61e2gI4lAcIbMdWKojRsipZbP_LVV5Q/s200/100_4396.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5572338698097558194" border="0" /></a>Celeste and her kids came over one afternoon to make fall sugar cookies. It was a lot of fun and a huge mess, as only 7 children can make in a small kitchen. We really miss living next door to their family and being able to run back and forth every day.<br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh06nbG_V5lHz4cJmbO5Wuw-tYChrCWaN3ip0SiBdTyZXn7oqvqUYtbNBngUXAuWJCJnHhWN_zOTjsdIWDktSWctXQ8nhucWuM7cQi_ecef-BUw-0fZHU-4dJngAkICpUuSkJQs6iV1xOc/s1600/100_4399.jpg"><img style="display: block; margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 200px; height: 150px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh06nbG_V5lHz4cJmbO5Wuw-tYChrCWaN3ip0SiBdTyZXn7oqvqUYtbNBngUXAuWJCJnHhWN_zOTjsdIWDktSWctXQ8nhucWuM7cQi_ecef-BUw-0fZHU-4dJngAkICpUuSkJQs6iV1xOc/s200/100_4399.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5572338691500742306" border="0" /></a>We hosted Thanksgiving at our house this year, seems as how it was our first Thanksgiving in our own house. However, I also failed to take pictures of that, so I have no proof that I did not ruin turkey dinner. On the contrary we brined our turkey and it was one of the best we've ever had. No really, you can ask people.Lizhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13222488604258748311noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7314640044038690139.post-52692344532155919302011-02-10T23:21:00.001-08:002011-02-10T23:53:31.093-08:00Hailey's Baptism<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhpXLPVoes8TsOd0H7CJbDBE9hkHCoqDGMqBoqCb_1Vcq9I1rbmEIUhMRtBZrelds0hBO-6xitebXIGT2z466uGvYCmDX3tU4EUmmX4cGK9Dt4Lmm1w0VZnY8FRPsTezXcSdeSX_2Uu1g4/s1600/100_4683.JPG"><img style="display: block; margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 200px; height: 150px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhpXLPVoes8TsOd0H7CJbDBE9hkHCoqDGMqBoqCb_1Vcq9I1rbmEIUhMRtBZrelds0hBO-6xitebXIGT2z466uGvYCmDX3tU4EUmmX4cGK9Dt4Lmm1w0VZnY8FRPsTezXcSdeSX_2Uu1g4/s200/100_4683.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5572330494224737442" border="0" /></a><br />Our sweet miss Hailey was baptized on Saturday, February 5. She still seems like such a little girl to me, I can hardly believe she's 8. It seems like McKenzie was so much older when she was baptized, but then she's always been a little adult trapped in a kid's body. But Ha's Ha, she's all cheese and grins. She came out of the water grinning, just like how she swims (think of a baleen whale). I think I freaked her out a little beforehand. We'd been talking about accountability before and after you're baptized. I think the idea that there was now this responsibility for her actions was a little unnerving. Not to worry though, after a day she seemed to have forgotten all about that concern.<br /> <br /> Dave's mom, Katherine, and two of his sisters, Amy and Cheryl flew out for the baptism. My parents and our friend Celeste came too. We had invited more people, but the week before the baptism, we got hit with the plague. It started with Connor getting a cold, then kindly passing it along. Friday night, it was clear that Greg had something different, and we were told he had influenza. The kid was just miserable. And Connor and I were just fountains of grossness. So I swung by the ER and stole some masks for the boys to wear to the baptism and muscled through. Greg hacked his way through the baptism and Connor was his usual wild self. The other kid getting baptism was unfortunately named Cooper. Nothing wrong with the name, but it gave Connor the opportunity to yell "pooper!" every time the kid's name was said. That's my boy. Needless to say no one wanted to sit near us, and I have a lot of leftover food.<br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjMylkoMEV8Mr3rtZw7GYidxpegsjNFpubo8t5fUkXR2a4L4vKmBVZQrL436z_8XpD221HcHZsWs9MBvGLw3LBvzxQmnBjmcbnoeNv_enGiDrqyrwMKlKDZ4WRFbkAS4hvgjPNMlOvHm88/s1600/100_4686.JPG"><img style="display: block; margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 200px; height: 150px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjMylkoMEV8Mr3rtZw7GYidxpegsjNFpubo8t5fUkXR2a4L4vKmBVZQrL436z_8XpD221HcHZsWs9MBvGLw3LBvzxQmnBjmcbnoeNv_enGiDrqyrwMKlKDZ4WRFbkAS4hvgjPNMlOvHm88/s200/100_4686.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5572329463083383458" border="0" /></a>Greg with his missionary Little People we found at the church bookstore. You can tell he's really enjoying the face mask. He was pretty good about it despite his annoyance with us.<br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjUUaliwnaJi7o5fyoB-Alvc7Xl4a6MHrwTh6ur_8PQ2YfBVAQE-djlaOIQQ-8BuxlIM30qpi-a7FvyQJldU5iSqw9NWgbwNYNNlmIStsZv-JqWWz7fBEWye78h0P3BXW2zGAax2az1uMA/s1600/100_4685.JPG"><img style="display: block; margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 200px; height: 150px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjUUaliwnaJi7o5fyoB-Alvc7Xl4a6MHrwTh6ur_8PQ2YfBVAQE-djlaOIQQ-8BuxlIM30qpi-a7FvyQJldU5iSqw9NWgbwNYNNlmIStsZv-JqWWz7fBEWye78h0P3BXW2zGAax2az1uMA/s200/100_4685.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5572329458590210482" border="0" /></a>As you can see from our family picture, it went delightfully smooth. There was 3 different cameras taking pictures, so we are all looking in different directions. Connor really wanted to continue destroying the church, rather than take a picture. Greg really just wanted to go home. It's not a pretty picture, and the only one we got. Of the entire baptism. I felt bad, because Kenzie's was such a big deal. But things just fell apart this time. I guess that's life when you're one of the middle kids, lost in the foray of madness. We love our Hailey and are very proud of her choice. And we are grateful for our families that came to share this day with us.Lizhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13222488604258748311noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7314640044038690139.post-57292286569452474702011-01-24T23:09:00.000-08:002011-01-24T23:18:48.362-08:00Catching UpI have gotten so inconsistent about blogging that I'd pretty much given up on it. One more thing I just don't have time for. But let's be honest here. What do I really have time for anymore? Not a lot of things I want to do. I'm also tragically un-organized. I know this comes as a real shocker to all of my friends. When you think of Liz, you think prompt and organized, I know, but I'm trying to be honest here. Needless to say, the task of unloading and organizing pictures and sitting down at the computer long enough to have a complete thought seemed like one more thing down the toilet. But a few weeks ago I had the first year of our blog printed in a book. It's so neat. I love having this journal of sorts of our families year. Scrapbooking, journaling, and organizing photos fell off the radar long ago. So I've decided that maybe blogging isn't so impossible after all. If I just keep taking pictures, posting them, and keeping track of the silly things the kiddos say I'm kind of on the ball. I'm going to try and catch up some of last year so I can add that to a certain to be small 2010 book. So feel free to skim through the next several posts as I'm doing them mostly for my benefit.Lizhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13222488604258748311noreply@blogger.com1