tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-40246535409194303162024-03-13T05:38:07.973-07:00tbrkoTBRKOhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00972433685307265490noreply@blogger.comBlogger503125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4024653540919430316.post-23402361022746395532014-01-02T18:37:00.001-08:002014-01-02T18:37:11.529-08:00It's been a year...I really have no excuse for not blogging for a whole year. Well, I guess I do. You see, there's this thing called work that consumes my days as well as my nights. And then there's this thing called parenting that consumes my days, nights, weekends, and any other minute of the day. And thennnn there's this thing called having a spouse who has worked for over a year now on the night shift. So yeah.<br />
When I began blogging, it was a way to document my life with my kids and keep in contact with loved ones. That was before Facebook, Twitter, and Instagram. I don't feel the need to reflect on here, because it's more time to type out a lot at once rather than post something quick on one of the above mentioned sites.<br />
Honestly I have some other things to consider now too--my two older children are on social media. I have to respect their privacy or at least their sense of pride. I can't tell some of the stories I used to post on here, because frankly my kids would flip on me. <br />
So here are some things I will share:<br />
I have a son who is now 14. He is a solid five inches taller than I am and is still growing. People let me tell you that gone are the days of worrying about potty training my 'baby' or him sleeping all night. We have moved on to girls, dealing with letting him go to a girl's house and vice versa, exchanging gifts (YOU wait until your son asks you to buy someone a gift card to PINK), and those issues. I won't say much else, because social media is no longer the place. Dear lord where did by little baby go?<br />
I have a daughter who is 11. In the last 6 months, she has swiftly gone from being the sweet amiable child and turned into.....a girl who is starting to go through 'the change.' She is getting quite tall, has bigger feet than I do, and I am seeing her body transform. Again, I am not ready for this. She has pulled away from me a lot, gained a pretty snippity attitude, and is very into clothes and accessories and makeup. (No I don't allow her to wear make up to school)<br />
I have a daughter who is 8. She is trying to find her place in the world and, I think, in the family. She is by far the most tenderhearted 8 year old I have ever encountered. I have learned how to navigate through her dependence on her mom as well as others. She thrives on one on one interaction. She loves deeply. She expresses all the sweet things that I think, but am often too private to say. She works very hard at school, and we are working on her trusting her self rather than needing constant reinforcement.<br />
Don't get me wrong. She has a lot of friends, is loved by everyone, and is a very good student. She just needs a little extra from some of us.<br />
I have a baby who is five. Okay so he's not a baby anymore, but to me he is. It's so strange. When my oldest was five I thought he was such a big boy. Now I look at my youngest and he seems so small to me. I stand by what I've always said, "If I had the money I would have more kids." Anyway, child #4 is about as whitty, charming, friendly, loving, and boyish as they come. I did not know boys could be so loving and snuggly. I love him so much.<br />
Even though I seem to never blog, I still read other posts by you. Keep doing it. Don't be as big of a loser as I am. And now, after taking this little break, I need to get back to school work!TBRKOhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00972433685307265490noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4024653540919430316.post-19109908145533036802013-01-28T17:11:00.000-08:002013-01-28T17:11:13.414-08:00Only Brady...<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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<br />TBRKOhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00972433685307265490noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4024653540919430316.post-16459425713820194082013-01-27T08:17:00.000-08:002013-01-27T08:17:42.972-08:00I am, I think, I know...with humorBecause we all need to laugh and be a little bit petty at times :)<br />
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<span style="background-color: rgba(255, 255, 255, 0);">I am:desperately craving a big fat frosted cookie. Like intensely.</span></div>
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<span style="background-color: rgba(255, 255, 255, 0);">I think: that I would love to have the hair that the Kardashian sisters have.</span></div>
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<span style="background-color: rgba(255, 255, 255, 0);">I know: that I am seriously out of shape</span></div>
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<span style="background-color: rgba(255, 255, 255, 0);">I want: the newest season of Celebrity Apprentice to start, because there is nothing more enjoyable than watching my favorite trainwreck, Gary Busey, on television.</span></div>
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<span style="background-color: rgba(255, 255, 255, 0);">I have: no will power when it comes to frosting.</span></div>
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<span style="background-color: rgba(255, 255, 255, 0);">I dislike: when I miss an episode of anything Kardashian related, because frankly, it's the only thing I watch</span></div>
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<span style="background-color: rgba(255, 255, 255, 0);">I miss: Tom Brokaw being on NBC nightly news. I have a crush on him.</span></div>
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<span style="background-color: rgba(255, 255, 255, 0);">I fear: every day I fear that my pants will be too tight. Often they are.</span></div>
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<span style="background-color: rgba(255, 255, 255, 0);">I feel: like a freak for getting my second ever cold sore eight days ago. It was the size of Mount Saint Helens. </span></div>
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<span style="background-color: rgba(255, 255, 255, 0);">I hear: bickering kids and SpongeBob...and now crying and yelling. Awesome.</span></div>
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<span style="background-color: rgba(255, 255, 255, 0);">I smell: nothing because the sounds are drowning out all my other senses.</span></div>
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<span style="background-color: rgba(255, 255, 255, 0);">I crave: vacations, money, frosting, bacon, tacos, a nicer body, a bigger bust, quiet, and money</span></div>
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<span style="background-color: rgba(255, 255, 255, 0);">I search: for my sanity. Where the hell did it go?</span></div>
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<span style="background-color: rgba(255, 255, 255, 0);">I wonder: Why Corey Hart wore his Sunglasses at Night. Seriously why?</span></div>
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<span style="background-color: rgba(255, 255, 255, 0);">I regret: That I didn't go to Prince when he came here in 1999. </span></div>
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<span style="background-color: rgba(255, 255, 255, 0);">I love: arguing with my kids because it's so gratifying. Wait...</span></div>
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<span style="background-color: rgba(255, 255, 255, 0);">I care: about celebrity news. A lot. Judge all you want.</span></div>
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<span style="background-color: rgba(255, 255, 255, 0);">I am always: wondering why people post some of the stuff they do on FB.</span></div>
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<span style="background-color: rgba(255, 255, 255, 0);">I worry: all.the.time. It's a gift.</span></div>
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<span style="background-color: rgba(255, 255, 255, 0);">I remember: clearly the morning that I woke up with Bell's Paulsy. Seriously what 14 year old gets that?!?!?!</span></div>
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<span style="background-color: rgba(255, 255, 255, 0);">I sing: Not as well as Celine Dion</span></div>
<div style="text-align: -webkit-auto;">
<span style="background-color: rgba(255, 255, 255, 0);">I argue: Not well. </span></div>
<div style="text-align: -webkit-auto;">
<span style="background-color: rgba(255, 255, 255, 0);">I write:less than I type</span></div>
<div style="text-align: -webkit-auto;">
<span style="background-color: rgba(255, 255, 255, 0);">I lose: everything bc I'm not organized enough</span></div>
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<span style="background-color: rgba(255, 255, 255, 0);">I wish: I appreciated when I could eat whatever I wanted when I could. That's not the case anymore.</span></div>
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<span style="background-color: rgba(255, 255, 255, 0);">I listen: to a song and am instantly transported back in time. Normally I correctly guess the year too, because I'm so gifted.</span></div>
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<span style="background-color: rgba(255, 255, 255, 0);">I don't
understand: why we still have a dog who pees and poops in our house and has recently ruined our leather couch.</span></div>
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<span style="background-color: rgba(255, 255, 255, 0);">I can usually be found: taking a nap on the weekend if at all possible.</span></div>
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<span style="background-color: rgba(255, 255, 255, 0);">I am scared: running out of coffee, my reflection in the morning, and many other things.</span></div>
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<span style="background-color: rgba(255, 255, 255, 0);">I need: more shoes, a new wardrobe, a stylist, a maid, a life coach, and a personal chef. Basically I need to be Oprah.</span></div>
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<span style="background-color: rgba(255, 255, 255, 0);">I forget: how great 1980s television was. Shows today suck frankly,</span></div>
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<span style="background-color: rgba(255, 255, 255, 0);">I am happy: for heat in the dead of winter.</span></div>
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<span style="background-color: rgba(255, 255, 255, 0);">Care to join me? Copy and paste if you'd like and let me know- I'd love to come read yours! </span></div>
TBRKOhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00972433685307265490noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4024653540919430316.post-89708331353669277382013-01-25T18:19:00.002-08:002013-01-25T18:19:18.088-08:00I am, I think, I know <br />
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I'm doing this because of Vicky and because these are cathartic. :)</div>
<span style="background-color: rgba(255, 255, 255, 0);"><br /></span><div style="text-align: -webkit-auto;">
<span style="background-color: rgba(255, 255, 255, 0);">I am: living in thr midst of mountains of work, responsibilities, and feeling very overwhelmed.</span></div>
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<span style="background-color: rgba(255, 255, 255, 0);">I think: always about what need to be done at work, home, and for my kids</span></div>
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<span style="background-color: rgba(255, 255, 255, 0);">I know: that everyone has stress in their life, so I embrace it.</span></div>
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<span style="background-color: rgba(255, 255, 255, 0);">I want: my husband to have normal hours, a cleaning lady, and my children to always know how much I love them.</span></div>
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<span style="background-color: rgba(255, 255, 255, 0);">I have: a full heart and a deep love for coffee.</span></div>
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<span style="background-color: rgba(255, 255, 255, 0);">I dislike: this answer will always be the same: cruelty toward others, selfishness, and bullying</span></div>
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<span style="background-color: rgba(255, 255, 255, 0);">I miss: having an infant in my home, my grandma Ada, youthfulness</span></div>
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<span style="background-color: rgba(255, 255, 255, 0);">I fear: losing my parents, my children, husband, and/or sanity.</span></div>
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<span style="background-color: rgba(255, 255, 255, 0);">I feel: challenged </span></div>
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<span style="background-color: rgba(255, 255, 255, 0);">I hear: the running washing machine, Calliou on tv, and Peaches</span></div>
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<span style="background-color: rgba(255, 255, 255, 0);">I smell: the wafting aroma left over from Peaches pooping in the house.</span></div>
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<span style="background-color: rgba(255, 255, 255, 0);">I crave: summer heat and sunshine, frosting, and snuggles with my kids.</span></div>
<div style="text-align: -webkit-auto;">
<span style="background-color: rgba(255, 255, 255, 0);">I search: for ways to cure psoriasis (thanks stress), for information and ideas and answers for AP government, and recipes.</span></div>
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<span style="background-color: rgba(255, 255, 255, 0);">I wonder: if I am good enough</span></div>
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<span style="background-color: rgba(255, 255, 255, 0);">I regret: missing one child's sports and activities for another's </span></div>
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<span style="background-color: rgba(255, 255, 255, 0);">I love: my IPhone 5</span></div>
<div style="text-align: -webkit-auto;">
<span style="background-color: rgba(255, 255, 255, 0);">I care: more than the average person about anything and everything</span></div>
<div style="text-align: -webkit-auto;">
<span style="background-color: rgba(255, 255, 255, 0);">I am always: feeling guilty and worrying.</span></div>
<div style="text-align: -webkit-auto;">
<span style="background-color: rgba(255, 255, 255, 0);">I worry: all.the.time. It's a gift.</span></div>
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<span style="background-color: rgba(255, 255, 255, 0);">I remember: about things to the point that it writes people out.</span></div>
<div style="text-align: -webkit-auto;">
<span style="background-color: rgba(255, 255, 255, 0);">I sing: less than I used to.</span></div>
<div style="text-align: -webkit-auto;">
<span style="background-color: rgba(255, 255, 255, 0);">I argue: not well. I dislike conflict and I refuse to argue with my kids, even though its unavoidable.</span></div>
<div style="text-align: -webkit-auto;">
<span style="background-color: rgba(255, 255, 255, 0);">I write: a lot for work.</span></div>
<div style="text-align: -webkit-auto;">
<span style="background-color: rgba(255, 255, 255, 0);">I lose: everything bc I'm not organized enough</span></div>
<div style="text-align: -webkit-auto;">
<span style="background-color: rgba(255, 255, 255, 0);">I wish: my kids were little still</span></div>
<div style="text-align: -webkit-auto;">
<span style="background-color: rgba(255, 255, 255, 0);">I listen: to music all the time. It soothes me.</span></div>
<div style="text-align: -webkit-auto;">
<span style="background-color: rgba(255, 255, 255, 0);">I don't understand: some of the AP stuff I teach...ok much of it, how people can be mean, why kids don't appreciate naps, and why bad things have to happen to people.</span></div>
<div style="text-align: -webkit-auto;">
<span style="background-color: rgba(255, 255, 255, 0);">I can usually be found: work, home, or in my car</span></div>
<div style="text-align: -webkit-auto;">
<span style="background-color: rgba(255, 255, 255, 0);">I am scared: of vomit</span></div>
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<span style="background-color: rgba(255, 255, 255, 0);">I need: to be more appreciative of the fact that I have a job I love, a beautiful family, and that I am blessed. I also need to stop worrying what others think of me.</span></div>
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<span style="background-color: rgba(255, 255, 255, 0);">I forget: few things</span></div>
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<span style="background-color: rgba(255, 255, 255, 0);">I am happy: for all I have </span></div>
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<span style="background-color: rgba(255, 255, 255, 0);">Care to join me? Copy and paste if you'd like and let me know- I'd love to come read yours! </span></div>
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TBRKOhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00972433685307265490noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4024653540919430316.post-80570087900338678882013-01-15T17:04:00.001-08:002013-01-15T17:04:30.601-08:00WhoopsI didn't anticipate Thad's job change when I vowed to blog more. Unfortunately I simply don't have much down time anymore. Nights are hectic with him working and so I haven't quite blogged as much as I want to.<br />
Here's a recap:<br />
1. The kids are well. <br />Brady is Brady. When he is overtired (M-F) he is CRAZY. His exhaustion turns into wild behavior. We just go with it. He had strep a couple of weeks ago and I loved snuggling with him more than usual. He is my honey, and he is my forever baby.<br />
2. Olivia is doing well. She recently got glasses for a problem focusing. Her vision per se is fine, but focusing on words close up isn't so easy for her. She has complained almost daily of headaches, so the goal is to reduce those. I am learning, however, that Olivia seems to have some sort of daily crisis. In fact, she talks to her teacher daily about a headache, tummy ache, or some ailment. I am working with her on not always discussing her issues, but....not sure what will happen. <br />She is a mini Bonnie (clearly not in looks) but in her ability to cry very, very, very easily. I don't do that anymore, but if she is scolded, tears flow. As my dad says, Olivia doesn't have a mean bone in her body. She is kind beyond belief.<br />
3. Kate is becoming a sass. I can tell she is starting the earliest of transitions toward those lovely tween years. She continues to love to drive me crazy, yet I rely on her more than her big brother to help with Brady if I need to run an errand. She is still searching for that perfect hobby to make her happy. She is dancing twice a week but says she won't next year. She plays viola but says she won't next year. Get the pattern?<br />
4. Ryan is busy non stop. I can't even believe all he does and has energy for, yet I never wanted to hang out home. He and Thad leave in two days for Roseau for the weekend. He decided he needed to wash all his clothes on his own, pack already, and get all his homework done. Hello! Hockey practices are at an early 6:30am, so we leave the house around 5:50 to get him there. Well I do. Thad is sleeping. :)<br />
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Thad is out of town as we speak, and will be gone again in a few weeks. I am panicking a bit, because next week I start teaching the class last year that about did me in. I am starting over again b/c I can't remember a darn thing from last year! So my nights will be kids and then work.<br />
<br />
Other random thoughts:<br />
I miss some of Ryan's games due to the time. I won't keep my kids up late for that. I hate missing them, but I am a parent to all my kids, not just one. I worry that other parents think I'm not interested in his games. Not true.<br />
I know (because I just do) that I have adult ADD. It's bad. I can't focus on one thing. Ever.<br />
Kate does hand stands all the time. Is it some sort of stress reliever??? Who knows....<br />
Peaches pees in our house every.single.day. What should we do? We let her out. A lot. She pees on beds too.<br />
If I can do two loads of laundry a day I feel like I am doing ok. Rarely this happens.<br />
Ninety percent of the time my house looks like a bomb went off in it.<br />
Ninety five percent of the time I have a child who has crawled in my bed. Lately it's always Olivia. If it's not her, it's Brady.<br />
I have one child (Olivia) who is a nail biter. Any tips on how to get her to stop? Funny, her sister has the fastest growing nails of anyone I know.<br />
I am always cooking new food and at least two of the kids will like. Never do three or all four like them. It's annoying and exhausting.<br />
I'm exhausted.TBRKOhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00972433685307265490noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4024653540919430316.post-16953683973977916592012-12-18T16:32:00.002-08:002012-12-18T16:32:25.268-08:00So it goesLast week after a couple of months of preparing a resume, testing, and interviewing, Thad was promoted to a sergeant position at the police department. This means no more juvenile detective, no more M-F (I say that loosely because that wasn't the reality with that job either, and back to life with a shift worker. (more on this in a bit)<br />
He was sworn in last Friday. Kate had been sick all week, and for as nice as she looks in the photo, she was still quite miserable. The police chief spoke briefly, gave a brief bio on each officer (two were promoted to sergeant and one to lieutenant), and then the wives pinned the new badge on our spouses. You can guess who had issues pinning her spouse. Yes me. <br />
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I am so proud of Thad. The reality is, he couldn't see himself dealing with the crimes he was for another fifteen years. I still think he was the best man for that job, but you grow exhausted and jaded (more jaded) by hearing what horrible things happen to juveniles. <br />He started his new position last night. He is working 4pm-1am. Basically we don't see Thad now. This could last until March where he may move to the midnight shift, or there is a strong possibility he will stay on evenings indefinitely. How we are going to coordinate nightly activities for the kids and weekend travel for hockey, baseball, and dance is not clear to me. It will get done. For those who have asked, this is not a M-F position. It's five on and three off. I've been lucky that he has had a somewhat M-F schedule since Olivia was born. Two kids, many more activities, and lots of homework later, it will work out. My mother is my personal angel. She helps out with all the kids, driving places when I can't, and is a savior.<br />
I have a job where many kids dislike cops. I get that. I never felt that way, but I certainly feared them. Like I tell my students though, "You wouldn't hate them if you had to call 911 and you had someone trying to break into your house, there was a crisis at school, or in any emergency." Both of our jobs, as of late, have proved to be potentially dangerous. It's a new and scary time, and I have no answers.<br />
I will say that I LOATHE reading people on Facebook (why do I still have an account?!?!?) writing how guns are the problem, mental health is the problem, banning guns is ridiculous, we need prayer in schools and that's why this happens (what??), etc.<br />
Seriously if there was one reason, you'd think we would have solved it by now. We can only do our best to teach our children right from wrong, to defend people who aren't being treated well, and hope that nothing terrible happens to them. That probably sounds lame, but I just don't know what to say.<br />
What I can tell you is that highlight of my night last night (insert massive sarcasm) was when Olivia came down crying not only because Kate woke her up, BUT also woke her to tell her about the rampage in CT. Seriously??! Oh I was mad...fuming...<br />
Yes my kids still drive me crazy. :)TBRKOhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00972433685307265490noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4024653540919430316.post-85406973344901344822012-12-10T05:49:00.002-08:002012-12-10T05:49:40.135-08:00Sweet Olivia<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
She has a plan should Thad (or I) become President of the United States. <a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-RUld7Tk4o-o/UMXoWcjfY1I/AAAAAAAACNI/NIh9ZZfMJKE/s1600/photo+(1).jpeg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="239" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-RUld7Tk4o-o/UMXoWcjfY1I/AAAAAAAACNI/NIh9ZZfMJKE/s320/photo+(1).jpeg" width="320" /></a></div>
<br />TBRKOhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00972433685307265490noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4024653540919430316.post-2449900316792466722012-12-04T18:47:00.001-08:002012-12-04T18:47:06.801-08:00As of tomorrow......I will be the mother of a teenager. Good lord what is up with that?!<br />
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I have been reliving the day before I gave birth in my mind all day. I've been reminiscing. I've been wistful. Then I came across a box of pictures...lots of pictures that show proof of a) how young I was, b) how horrible my hair was prior to owning a flat iron, and c) how quickly time flies by.<br />
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Here are a few pictures I found. I didn't find any newborn photos of Ryan. They are tucked safely in scrapbooks, where I wrote every last detail of my pregnancy, labor, delivery, and his early life. As you can expect, those kinds of 'hobbies' ended once Olivia was born.<br />
I had Thad scan a few photos, and as you can see....obviously he didn't get it quite right. I have no idea how to fix this, but click on them and see my cute, sweet, spunky little Ryan. <br />
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<br />TBRKOhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00972433685307265490noreply@blogger.com16tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4024653540919430316.post-77095267591514812872012-12-03T12:41:00.002-08:002012-12-03T12:41:30.905-08:00A favorite<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
See this picture at the top? This was taken over TEN years ago. It's of Kate and me. I was going to have you guess, but I really doubt few people are reading my blog anymore since I bailed for so long. Anyway I had a student who was such a good drawer that I asked her if she could draw something for me. I really don't remember her doing it, and I know for sure she wasn't even in art, but the second picture is what I was given.</div>
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Now granted she didn't really get my nose, chin, or jaw quite right, but she capture Kate to a "T." I look at this picture set every.single.day. I'm at work. It just dawned on me that I have never shared this beautiful piece of art with anyone in my family.</div>
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I miss my sweet Kate. She used to be so easy, so amiable, so soft spoken, and so gentle. Kate spends much of her time at home being creative (read making HUGE messes), doing hand stands and back bends (read thumping), and sassing back (read becoming a pre-teen).<br />
But, every night and every morning, she still is the only child who, without fail says to me, "I love you mom."TBRKOhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00972433685307265490noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4024653540919430316.post-6811123282399163292012-12-02T06:16:00.001-08:002012-12-02T06:17:46.256-08:00I'm on a mission--Camping 2012<div class="" style="clear: both; color: #eeeeee; text-align: center;">
See? I really am on a mission to blog more. This August I did something I'd never done before, and in turn afforded my children an opportunity to try something they had never done....CAMP. Now if you know me (I mean really know me), I was raised by a father who taught me that roughing it was staying at a Holiday Inn. We took maybe two trips my entire life, and one was to Minneapolis. Yes I'm serious. </div>
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We drove five hours to Silver Bay, MN, an hour northeast of Duluth, along Lake Superior. Our friends, two families and neighbors had this trip in the works, and had tried to talk us into it for a few months. When we realized that Ryan had no football, Thad could get work off, and that Bonnie was willing to let people lend us a tent, friends would provide the stuff to cook with...well how could I say no?</div>
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It was.....<i>the best decision ever.</i></div>
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Brady enjoyed using his flashlight to see the starts. Doesn't everyone stargaze that way?!<br />
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We took a ski lift to the top of a spot in Lutsen. So beautiful. The kids loved it. Brady did not. Like not at all.<br />
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At the top of the lift were bobsleds to ride down. That was the fun part. The kids went twice.<br />
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Well, most of the kids. Brady decided once was enough, so he and I stayed down and he hung out with his buddies and god parents. </div>
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Then we took a gondola to the top of another spot. The view was incredible. We had lunch...nothing to write about as far as lunch was concerned, but more fun exploring.<br />
It baffles me that these girls have been part of one each others' lives since the older girls were two. I have pictures of little Lucy holding newborn Olivia in the hospital. <br />
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These guys used to play all the time. Ryan is a year older, and they've grown apart, but they enjoyed being together.<br />
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I love this picture. That is classic Brady...<br />
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The next day we went to a few state parks and enjoyed hiking and waterfalls.<br />
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I can't write enough about how wonderful Ryan was to have around. Okay yes right around this time he lost his cool with me over something, but he bounced back quickly.<br />
I always worry about Ryan when we do this stuff. I expected he'd think this camping thing was lame, be bored, etc. He is a pretty private kid, and he doesn't show anyone much emotion. <br />
I asked him a lot, and every time he said he was having fun. And boy did he take care of Brady. He climbed steep embankments with Brady on his hip. He taught him to throw rocks in the water. Ryan just takes such good care of Brady.<br />
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And this is our family. It was not easy getting us all on that darn slippery rock, but we did it, again thanks to Ryan and Thad.<br />
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My pictures vanish from this point on because I was crossing a waterfall with Ryan, and I slipped on some rocks. My shoes went down stream, my purse was submerged, Brady was screaming, I was laughing, my family was laughing, and then Ryan held out his hand to help me. I can't convey how slippery it was.<br />
But we made it. It wasn't until I got all the way across the water that I realized that a) My phone was in my soaking purse and b) it was too late to salvage, c) my connection to the "real world" was dead. Like deader than dead.<br />
It was worth it. It was worth it to be soaking wet the rest of the day. It was worth feeling my socks squish in my shoes while we went from place to place.<br />
It was all worth it.<br />
Camping was worth it.<br />
We have asked for a tent for Christmas.<br />
My kids love, love, loved Disney World this summer. But I think that camping was equally, if not more, memorable.<br />
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<br />TBRKOhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00972433685307265490noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4024653540919430316.post-88961004894953919002012-12-01T17:33:00.002-08:002012-12-01T17:33:16.684-08:00I haven't been blogging--duhReading blogs is something that I love to do. I love to read about my friends, family, and people I don't know personally but feel a connection to. Sometimes I read posts that I don't agree with, but I do enjoy reading them.<br />
This morning Brady and I were up early on a Saturday, and I was showing him pictures of him when he was a newborn--on my blog. I haven't taken the time (or been willing to spend the money sadly) to make him a baby album (or four) yet. I realized that he hasn't been blessed with a book to pour through the way the other kids have. I showed him what I looked like shortly before I was born. "Mommy you look fat!" Well, yes Brady I was a moose, and here's proof. I showed him pictures of his brother and sisters holding him, his baptism, well anything that is posted here.<br />
It hit me that I used to do this for a reason, and that reason was my children. Then I began blogging to vent or reach out to others. I read blogs for that same reason, and each and every one of your blogs enriches my life.<br />
<i>So what happened?</i><br />
I guess I got busy. Too busy to stop and reflect. Or maybe I was so busy reflecting within that I didn't want to publicize it. I'm not sure. I could make excuses, but there is no excuse.<br />
<i>I just sort of quit blogging.</i><br />
But I want my kids to read this someday and know all the crazy things they did...I want them to know that they gave me something to laugh about or ponder regularly.<br />
<i>I'm going to try and make a comeback.</i><br />
I'm going to share with you that Brady announced proudly in front of the Redbox that "I've seen this movie!" and I had to tell him, "Um no honey we haven't seen Pandora Double D or whatever it was called."<br />
Or that he told me last week when I told him I loved him with all of my heart, "You don't have a heart mom."<br />
Or that he called me a crap the other day when we was mad.<br />Or that he's obsessed with Peaches humping him. Yes I know. Not good.<br />
I'm going to tell you that I'm trying to figure out how to get the girls to church & Sunday school tomorrow, get Kate to two different performances, miss Ryan's game in Fergus, and figure out where Brady will go.<br />
Or that my daughter Kate is obsessed with me being an unfair and unkind mom if she doesn't get something every.single.time her siblings do.<br />
Or that Ryan has practice at 6:30am which means I am getting up around 5:40 to get him there.<br />
Or that Olivia cries at the drop of the hat and it drives me crazy, she still is a picky eater, and spelling doesn't come quite as easily to her as it did her big brother and sister.<br />
I'm going to tell you that my 'baby' turns 13 in a few days and I can't believe it.<br />
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But for now I'm just going to say, I will try to post more. I love when all you do. And happy December 1! <br />
TBRKOhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00972433685307265490noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4024653540919430316.post-66186741337751425392012-11-21T16:11:00.002-08:002012-11-21T16:11:46.910-08:00May as well...Well it's quite obvious that I've seriously fallen off the blogging wagon big time. But AJ posted this, and then Melissa did, so heck why not <br />
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Describe your self. What do you think about yourself and do you think people perceive you in the same way? <span style="color: blue;">I would say I'm soft hearted, sentitive, introverted although I am outgoing...I think others see me as quick witted, quirky, sensitive, and an extrovert.</span><br />Which is your most favorite book ever? <span style="color: blue;">I can't say I have one. I've read Helter Skelter a million times and I could read it again. I loved Hellhound on His Trail...I love most books I read.</span><br />Which is the one television character that you simply adore? <span style="color: blue;">Character? Cam from Modern Family, Alex P. Keaton from Family Ties, Dr...well whoever the hell George Clooney played on ER, anyone on Friends, and Mrs. Garrett from Facts of Life.</span><br />What kind of music do you like? <span style="color: blue;">I am a music junkie like AJ. I love 80s, pop, rock, classic rock, hard stuff, country, hell all of it.</span><br />Which is your favorite genre of movies? (Comedy/Romance/Suspense/Action/Horror) <span style="color: blue;">I'm too ADD for movies, so generally I only sit through comedies or romance</span><br />What do you do when you feel very sad or depressed? <span style="color: blue;">Keep to myself</span> <span style="color: blue;">and shut down</span><br />What makes you angry? Are you short-tempered? How do you overcome your anger? <span style="color: blue;">Mean people who think they are better than others, laziness and helplessness, the inability to accept responsibility for personal decisions</span><br />Which is the best vacation you've ever had? <span style="color: blue;">I love traveling so wherever. Family: Florida or camping, Couple: Honeymoon Cruise or Vegas, I LOVED my trip to the Southern US, and next summer our group is spending a (free) week in Boston</span><br />If
you could have a luncheon with any three people (real or
fictitious/from any time period/dead or alive), which three people would
you choose and why? <span style="color: blue;">My grandma Ada, Franklin Roosevelt, and Harry Truman</span><br />Which is your most cherished childhood memory? <span style="color: blue;">I have no memories</span><br />
What kind of kid were you? <span style="color: blue;">I was very mouthy and always got in trouble</span><br />
<span style="color: blue;"><span style="color: black;">What is the craziest thing you've ever done?</span> I'm pleading the fifth</span><br />Name one person you love the most and one person you hate the most. <span style="color: blue;">My entire family...I don't hate anyone</span><br />If we were a couple and we had a fight, how would you try to patch things up? <span style="color: blue;">I would apologize, probably cry, and explain my side again</span><br />What is the funniest prank played on you or played by you? <span style="color: blue;">I sent Thad a fake letter from Planned Parenthood saying I had an STD and that my partner gave it to me. Looking back, this could have seriously blown up in my face, but it was creative.</span><br />If given a choice, which animal would you want to be? Why? <span style="color: blue;">I can't imagine being an animal b/c they don't talk. Ever.</span><br />Who was your first crush? Did you ever tell him/her about your feelings? <span style="color: blue;">When I was in kindergarten, my family was at a basketball game. A senior dove for a ball and fell on me. I developed a huge crush.</span><br />Which is your most favorite place in this earth? <span style="color: blue;">Home</span><br />If you were stranded on a lonely beach, what are the five things that you would want to survive?<br /><span style="color: blue;">water, music, books, my cell phone, and People magazine</span>TBRKOhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00972433685307265490noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4024653540919430316.post-25134745604452795982012-08-22T13:45:00.001-07:002012-08-22T13:51:20.054-07:00Serenity<div><p>God grant me the serenity to stay out of a mental institution.<br>
Assure me that my children are "normal" for:<br>
Using (loudly) a whoopee cushion in the dentist's office. So glad they gave that as a reward.<br>
For fighting 800 times a day.<br>
For asking 25000 questions a day, most of which are identical to the question asked five seconds prior.<br>
For hating every.single.meal I make, and for requesting McDonald's every.single.day<br>
For being three and running through the doctor's office saying it's ok, because he's running bases. <br>
For sliding into said bases.</p>
<p>I really could ask for more God, but I'm too tired. So instead I'll be thankful they're healthy enough to want to make me mentally ill. :)</p>
</div>TBRKOhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00972433685307265490noreply@blogger.com5tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4024653540919430316.post-37745161133792862952012-08-09T19:52:00.001-07:002012-08-09T19:52:38.550-07:00Smiles<div><p>Every.single.day this child cracks me up. Whether I'm exhausted, stressed, crabby, you name it, I am reminded that each day.with Brady is an adventure in smiles.</p>
<br/><img src='http://lh6.ggpht.com/-pcBYtqdW6C8/UCR3ZRSI6kI/AAAAAAAACIs/vkbOrdqsCro/2012-07-28_13-47-31_639.png' /><br/><img src='http://lh6.ggpht.com/-mfvhDV8ug88/UCR3an17cUI/AAAAAAAACI0/V8DfmzY7Kng/2012-08-07_16-54-27_449.png' /><br/><img src='http://lh4.ggpht.com/--RCyagecY6c/UCR3bx807yI/AAAAAAAACI8/hOgvOBU9_Z0/IMG_20120807_121604.png' /><br/><img src='http://lh3.ggpht.com/-oxpN86gTavU/UCR3dDqadyI/AAAAAAAACJE/L6vA_2QYQnE/2012-08-08_12-30-50_104.png' /></div>TBRKOhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00972433685307265490noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4024653540919430316.post-32163314959747063432012-07-15T20:16:00.002-07:002012-07-15T20:16:32.054-07:00Summer...so far<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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<tr align="center"><td>To say that this summer has been busy is a huge understatement. I don't know if we've ever been going non stop the way we have this summer. I'm not complaining. I won't share all the things we (I) have had going on, but there have been work commitments, family travel, BASEBALL, Thad's 20 year reunion, etc.</td><td><br /></td><td></td><td><img border="0" height="320" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-bHeG80crLqg/UAOBm1_lWuI/AAAAAAAACHk/KzmW8CkAMBU/s320/IMG_20120614_191228.jpg" width="320" /></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">This is marked the "kick off" to our summer--a weeklong trip to Florida. I am itching to go back. I want to retire here.</td></tr>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">A LOT of baseball (and tball). This will likely be Olivia's one and only year playing. But Brady sure enjoys getting to play too!</td><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><br /></td><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><br /></td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-gzyvwHNEOj0/UAOCEMziCUI/AAAAAAAACH8/V_u7l5qaxao/s1600/R--tournament24.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="213" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-gzyvwHNEOj0/UAOCEMziCUI/AAAAAAAACH8/V_u7l5qaxao/s320/R--tournament24.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Travel baseball is an all-consuming summer sport. It's like hockey during the summer. I love it. I don't mind the heat. </td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-Uq7r07Ei5WA/UAOCIuuOK9I/AAAAAAAACIM/3ZfxrjiI-CY/s1600/R--tournament.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="213" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-Uq7r07Ei5WA/UAOCIuuOK9I/AAAAAAAACIM/3ZfxrjiI-CY/s320/R--tournament.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">For as much baseball as Ryan plays, he finds the time to golf *at least* 18 holes a day. If there is no golf, he'll do more. His energy is insane. I know understand why boys weren't half as interested in us girls when we were his age.</td></tr>
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I have thoroughly loved watching my 'baseball boy' blossom as a player. While coaching Olivia's team this year, I have watched a little boy who reminds me of Ryan at the age of seven. Then I look at Brady, who is the unofficial baseball mascot. He LOVES the kids, the game, and sits and watches the games. If he's not watching, he's off to the side acting out the moves he sees.<br />
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The boys treat Brady like royalty. Ryan and his friend use some bizarre lingo. For awhile Ryan has called Benny. None of us in our house even hear it, because we just tune out Ryan's 'talk.' Low and behold, though, we have realized that Ryan's teammates don't say "Brady!" They call him Ben or Benny. Go figure.<br />
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The girls aren't really fairly represented in any pictures. My girls are doing well. Kate is just blossoming. Sometimes I catch myself looking at her wistfully. She is now ten. Her look is changing....she's growing up.<br />
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Olivia is seven. She isn't aggressive at all with baseball. She has enjoyed playing with friends, prefers to swim everyday, and is still my emotional child.<br />
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Moorhead hosted the state baseball tournament this weekend. Our first two games were big wins. We took down Baxter easily. We moved on to Waite Park, where we won 13-0. <br />
Next up was Bemidji. They got us...and got us good. It was a double elimination tournament, so we weren't out. In fact we had to play Waite Park again today, and it was another decisive victory. Unfortunately one boy badly hurt his knee and gave us a scare. He was taken to the ER, and the boys resumed play.<br />
Next up? Bemidji. But even if we beat them, we would have to play them again, tomorrow....<br />
The start of the game wasn't looking so good. In fact after two and a half innings, 90+ degree temps, and knowing Brady must be exhausted, I wrestled him home so he could nap. Within a minute or two of leaving the texts started rolling in: Ryan got a grand slam!\ We are up one! Ryan is pitching awesome! Crap the other team scored! We are going into extra innings! After innings 7 & 8 were played with no score, Thad texted me, "Wake him up and get here." So I woke up a deep sleeping Brady, who was covered in sweat, told him the boys were still playing, and we had to go. Luckily he gave me a huge smile...<br />
As we ran into the stadium, I heard cheering...for the other team. Bemidji scored. They won. Those boys played their hearts out, and we were all so proud. I know that they are proud of themselves too.<br />
<br />TBRKOhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00972433685307265490noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4024653540919430316.post-68099492505399272112012-05-15T19:07:00.000-07:002012-05-15T19:10:25.394-07:00Playing catch up...and a sweet story<div class="" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
Here I go getting caught up with things! Olivia turned 7 last week. She is in soccer right now, and just started tball. She is a doll, and yet still quite sensitive. At the same time, she is a little go getter on the soccer field. </div>
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Ryan had his final orchestra concert of the year last night. He was hell bent on not doing it next year. In fact, he thought I was a mean mom for refusing to allow him to quit mid-year. Sorry buddy, quitting won't happen. Lo and behold today, I saw that he brought home for form for summer orchestra camp AND is signing up again next year. Go figure. </div>
Oh yeah, and baseball is in full swing again.<br />
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Now on to Miss Katie. These is something about this little girl...she is blossoming before my eyes. I am showing you the email I received tonight from her teacher. Her teacher is (to coin my Grandma Ada) a true gem. She is the most compassionate, sweet, kind, loving yet with high expectations teacher. Kate has been asking all year if she can just loop so she can have her for fifth grade. But this teacher doesn't do that. To set the story up, the fourth graders had a track meet today. I watched as Kate hung out with her friends...and her teacher. When you see the second picture, you will get a glimpse of what I saw while I was there. It was precious to me.</div>
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Kate did the long jump, 400 meter dash, the 4x4 800 meter relay, and the mile. She told me she took last place in the mile...at 8.01. Okay seriously? That is a good score and all the kids who did better ran FAST! Wow. I was certainly proud of her. Kate isn't competitive at all. As a matter of fact, I know Kate was probably grateful she took last rather than someone else. Like me she gets a little...fixated on feeling badly for others. She told me a few weeks ago out of the blue that the reason she never went after the ball in tball (four years ago) if someone else was also going for the ball, was because she didn't want them feeling badly. </div>
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So here's the email....and why I love this teacher...and why Kate loves her....</div>
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<tt>I just wanted to let you both know how PROUD I was of Kate for all
the events she was in...& her finish of the mile! Of all the girls
in our class, Kate ran the most today. She just finished the co-ed
relay and the first call of the mile was given. She didn't even
hesitate. She trucked right on over to get ready to run! Since I was
on the field cheering the milers on...I could tell Kate was hurting on
the last lap. However, she picked it up and coasted to the finish line!
That takes a lot of courage in front of all your peers! She did an
AWESOME JOB! When we got back, I asked them to write one thing that
stuck with them from the meet. She wrote about the 400 meter dash and
the mile run....getting last place. I whispered to her..."You know how
many years I have watched kids quit in the mile because they weren't
winning? I am soo proud of you!" Not every kid has that kind of
courage! WAY TO GO, KATE! That's a true winner. </tt></div>
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<span style="font-family: Times,"Times New Roman",serif;">What is so cool about this teacher is that she sends emails like this regularly. I simply cannot say enough good things about her. I really can't say enough good things about ALL of the teachers my children have had. </span><tt> </tt></div>
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Next time I swear I'll talk about Brady..and Peaches!TBRKOhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00972433685307265490noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4024653540919430316.post-89764700746419420892012-05-14T15:51:00.000-07:002012-05-14T15:51:12.553-07:00She's ours!After a weekend of fun with Peaches (can't get over that name), we are now her owners. We fell in love with her, the kids adore her, and her owner realized that to find someone/somewhere who could love her and give her attention is too important to take her away from it again. My heart breaks for her owner. We all have lost dogs, and it is such a painful experience.<br />
Peaches is doing well. She walked into our house on Friday night without so much as one jump, bark, or annoying behavior. She is a little...okay a lot overweight. We have been walking her, and she's thrown up a couple of times after. But it's good for her to move around more.<br />
Brady, who has been forever scared of dogs, loves her. He calls her Doggie. Thad mistakenly calls her Lazzie, because she looks like my parents' old bulldog.<br />
So now we have five kids. Literally a dog is like a child. She needs to be wiped down every time she takes a drink, her folds, eyes, and ears need to be cleaned daily (if not more), and she has horrid smelling gas.<br />
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I will provide more pictures soon....<br />
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Tonight Thad and I are going to coach Olivia's tball team. It's her first night. It's my first time as a coach. This should be...interesting. I have to leave tball early and run Ryan to his orchestra concert. Then I will sit in a sweltering gym with several hundred other people while it's 85 degrees outside. So it will be around 105 in there. Whoo hoo.<br />
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Tomorrow is the AP government test. I can't believe I made it. I can't believe my students made it with me.I've gained around 8-10 lbs in the last few months. I'm pretty ticked about that. I guess when I eat healthier more often I don't gain so fast. Whoops. I was blaming hockey. Now I'm blaming work and soccer. Then I will blame baseball. What would be the best choice is to blame myself, only eat healthy, find time to work out more (impossible), and just quit blaming everyone and everything else.<br />
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<br />TBRKOhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00972433685307265490noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4024653540919430316.post-74815070733618109902012-05-10T11:47:00.001-07:002012-05-10T11:47:18.504-07:00Peaches<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
This is Peaches. We have been asked to foster her beginning in July-January. Thad is only going along with it for my sake. What a guy! Seriously though, she needs a home while her daddy is away at military training, and we are happy to help. You have to truly love bulldogs to see their beauty. We may have her this weekend and do a trial run. I will let you know how it goes!</div>
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<br />TBRKOhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00972433685307265490noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4024653540919430316.post-58900645152211252432012-05-09T19:09:00.001-07:002012-05-09T19:09:47.837-07:00Amen sisterI saw <a href="http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=2xxpd3Ye0zA">this</a> on facebook tonight. I love it. I loved this show. I love it even more now.<br />
Some people use their blog to discuss their personal views. I haven't really done that. But I am today.<br />
I respect other peoples' opinions about issues, so please respect mine. You don't have to agree with me. You don't have to like what I think, but I, for one, do not find this to be detrimental to society.<br />
What I find detrimental is a home life that lacks love, lacks care, involves fighting more than anything. Even my dear sweet husband who probably doesn't agree with me on this has said, "In my job I see more broken homes, more neglected children, more sad situations that most people can't even imagine. If two loving people are raising a child, who am I to say that's wrong?" <br />
Guess what guys? Most of those homes he sees aren't gay couples having kids. They are just <i>people </i>who have had kids.<br />
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In life, we need to try to move away so much from labels, and just think of everyone as a person. It's not easy, and we are only a couple of generations removed (in my case one) from ending segregation.<br />
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So how about we stop worrying about: who's Black, who's white, who's Hispanic, who's Native American, who's gay, who's straight, etc. Let's all just <i>be.</i><br />
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<i>**This is the (hopefully) last PSA coming from my blog for the next year!** </i>TBRKOhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00972433685307265490noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4024653540919430316.post-36547909377095098292012-04-24T09:47:00.000-07:002012-04-24T09:47:06.656-07:00DifferencesAJ's post inspired me. How can kids be so different yet come from the same pool of genes? I would argue the greatest of differences lies between my sister and I. Just the other day she said, "Boy we are different. From personalities, to coloring, to body shape, everything." She's so right.<br />
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Ryan: Hot and cold. Strong willed. Pushes until there is a breaking point. Only will give up if he gets his way or has lost several privileges. Autonomous, athletic, funny as heck, very quick on his toes, and at the same time, one big fat giant pill in our house day in and day out.<br />
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Kate: Warm. Bizarre as all heck. Loves being weird to get a reaction. Unique, creative, unaffected by perceptions of her, doesn't care about peer pressure, and by far the most loving of our kids. Tells us every night she loves us, kisses us good night, offers kind words daily. Tries to be mean to Olivia when we aren't looking and can be quite sassy.<br />
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Olivia: Less hot and cold. Her emotions aren't tied to anger, but frustration/crying. Private like Ryan. Cries when things don't go her way. Easily hurt. Seems to need a lot of reinforcement in general. Hardest to feed. Yet she is easy...easy to please, easy to have around, not annoying at all, and overall very sweet. Easy but rather needy.<br />
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Brady: Always been happy, easy, kind, loving, etc. Recently has become strong willed. Loves his daddy. Loves his big sister "lii-ee-uh" and loves the big kids who come over. Makes everyone smile and is quick witted. Just last night insisted when we got his hair cut that he wanted it "up." I figured out he wanted a buzz cut. So we got him a buzz cut. I'm realizing he is growing up terribly fast as the result of having older siblings.<br />
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dTBRKOhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00972433685307265490noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4024653540919430316.post-49296457435582935762012-03-04T14:27:00.002-08:002012-03-04T14:37:12.689-08:00UghI was just reading my friend's blog post about February kicking her a$$. I can relate...too well.<br />I don't like to complain about being stressed, because we ALL have life issues that cause us concern. Many have it way worse than I do. But for my own sake I am going to blog about my personal stressors.<br /><br />I am teaching a new class. It is kicking my a$$ into a whole new territory of stress. I am teaching Advanced Placement United States Government and Politics. Let me tell you what. This is NOT a class I would have taken in high school had it been offered, and I know I wouldn't have passed! Everyday at school I am pouring over about five or six different AP workbooks, the book, online sites, heck anything that can offer me help. I also teach another class, so that needs my attention. Then at night between the kids' stuff, I spend anywhere from 1-2 hours on it.<br /><br />I DO NOT UNDERSTAND THIS CLASS! I'm sorry, but I have no clue (but I'm learning) about PACS, Super PACs, Election Laws, and okay I could write until the cows come home. So not only do I have to get it, but I have to present it in a way that the kids think I sort of get it. These kids are the best and the brightest in our school. It's no secret they are more intelligent than I am. Almost daily they ask me questions that I can't answer. The best part? I have a student teacher who seems to be able to answer the questions. They call him "prof." Yeah that's not a kick to the gut. I've been in tears more times over work since January than any other time in my job.<br /><br />This is what I need to tell myself each day...:<br />I will get through this<br />I am healthy (okay except for the awesome 24 hours migraine I had for the first time in my life this weekend. I blame "the class.")<br />My family is healthy<br />My husband supports me and lets me work as needed<br />I am a better person because of this class<br />A professional challenge is good<br />So I have to give up a week of my summer vacation to learn more about this stuff this summer. So I can't apply for a history seminar. So what? I am so happy. (okay that's a lie)<br />And again one of my favorite mantras: What doesn't kill us makes us stronger.<br /><br />Back I must go to work on my presentation about Interest Groups. Sounds thrilling huh?TBRKOhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00972433685307265490noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4024653540919430316.post-40893633007788970612012-02-27T17:26:00.002-08:002012-02-27T17:30:17.386-08:00Last nightWe went to dinner with my dad. Luckily Wayne was in a laid back mood because we looked like a three (four) ring circus...<br />--Brady walked in with hockey gloves and a hockey helmet<br />--Ryan was sharing some foul smelling....love with us.<br />--Brady announced he had to poop...very loudly.<br />--Brady returned from the bathroom and not only announced that he did his business, but the color as well.<br />--Kate spilled her pop all over.<br />--Brady started choking, gagging, and regurgitated a bit of food into a napkin I held. Awesome.<br />--Brady announced again he had to poop.<br />--Brady announced his butt hurt.<br />--The waitress was clearing our plates...even Kate was done eating. If you know Kate, she is always the last to finish. Brady said very loudly, "Don't take mine!"<br /><br />Really this was just a typical hour spent with my family, but sometimes you just have to roll your eyesTBRKOhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00972433685307265490noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4024653540919430316.post-48021793688129552052012-01-08T18:12:00.000-08:002012-01-08T18:26:58.076-08:00Hibbing TournamentThis weekend our family (minus Kate who opted to stay home with Grandma and Grandpa) headed up to the Iron Range for a hockey tournament. The scenery was pretty, the weather was beautiful, and the company was excellent.<br />Of course Brady chose the car ride to be the first time to skip a nap. He slept for maybe twenty minutes. Otherwise he chatted with us the entire ride. We checked in, dumped our stuff, got Ryan some food, sent him with another family and hit the pool.<br />This is THE highlight for every kid who takes a trip. They were in heaven.<br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-jkMl210HxlA/TwpN8SlheYI/AAAAAAAACDs/3roVe5lDXnU/s1600/009.jpg"><img style="cursor: pointer; width: 181px; height: 320px;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-jkMl210HxlA/TwpN8SlheYI/AAAAAAAACDs/3roVe5lDXnU/s320/009.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5695450376940124546" border="0" /></a><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-fjL2f-Buu5g/TwpN8Wly75I/AAAAAAAACDk/6Q-uVaTpx5E/s1600/010.jpg"><img style="cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-fjL2f-Buu5g/TwpN8Wly75I/AAAAAAAACDk/6Q-uVaTpx5E/s320/010.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5695450378015010706" border="0" /></a><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-6h1ov7byK6o/TwpN2D4Sc3I/AAAAAAAACDY/xEPT7qT9g3Q/s1600/012.jpg"><img style="cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 181px;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-6h1ov7byK6o/TwpN2D4Sc3I/AAAAAAAACDY/xEPT7qT9g3Q/s320/012.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5695450269913084786" border="0" /></a><br />The first game we played was against Orono. Here is Ryan warming up. <a href="http://thewestraworld.blogspot.com/">Vicky's</a> husband Rick (who is equally as sweet and kind as she is) whispered something in Thad's ear that got Thad's attention. He told Thad that the coach for Orono was Rob Maclanahan. If you are a hockey fan, you might know that he was a member of the 1980 USA hockey "dream" team. And dang were they good....<br />We lost...and again in the morning at an early game.<br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-zRzP_-nw3t4/TwpN1ScKTDI/AAAAAAAACDM/AD8juG9LtZo/s1600/017.jpg"><img style="cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 308px;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-zRzP_-nw3t4/TwpN1ScKTDI/AAAAAAAACDM/AD8juG9LtZo/s320/017.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5695450256641772594" border="0" /></a><br />Brady looks out like a light here after the Saturday morning game, but this also only lasted 25 minutes. Where he found his energy, I have no idea.<br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-XGuU4qo28KY/TwpN1ZRlgxI/AAAAAAAACC8/wmDsEWSUlX4/s1600/019.jpg"><img style="cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 181px;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-XGuU4qo28KY/TwpN1ZRlgxI/AAAAAAAACC8/wmDsEWSUlX4/s320/019.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5695450258476466962" border="0" /></a><br />But the boys won against Evelyth, so that meant a little celebration pizza AND a Sunday afternoon game. The parents were a little bummed that it would be a long day AND evening, but the boys could have cared less.<br />Look who's part of the crew?<br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-Ct80JOxSnJQ/TwpN09j6nsI/AAAAAAAACC0/wdzwR95q7c4/s1600/025.jpg"><img style="cursor: pointer; width: 181px; height: 320px;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-Ct80JOxSnJQ/TwpN09j6nsI/AAAAAAAACC0/wdzwR95q7c4/s320/025.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5695450251037155010" border="0" /></a><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-spqZQQmEzac/TwpN05T4WtI/AAAAAAAACCo/qyTgoxrWSFc/s1600/026.jpg"><img style="cursor: pointer; width: 181px; height: 320px;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-spqZQQmEzac/TwpN05T4WtI/AAAAAAAACCo/qyTgoxrWSFc/s320/026.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5695450249896155858" border="0" /></a><br />We left our hotel in Mountain Iron, MN, today and by about ten minutes away from Hibbing, Olivia and Brady were out. So we decided to hit a range in Hibbing.<br />Um....yeah they also have a Greyhound Bus museum. I thought about stopping in....wait no I didn't. Wth?<br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-VuRcqLQ83wk/TwpNlUEa4wI/AAAAAAAACCc/ClNVuFhy0MM/s1600/027.jpg"><img style="cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 181px;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-VuRcqLQ83wk/TwpNlUEa4wI/AAAAAAAACCc/ClNVuFhy0MM/s320/027.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5695449982201160450" border="0" /></a><br />Then we saw this. My cell phone doesn't do it justice, but it's pretty amazing that there are not only actual hills, but a big iron range in this state.<br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-k2FbtVUSFdg/TwpNk8NIHCI/AAAAAAAACCQ/KWpkO-ZWEzE/s1600/029.jpg"><img style="cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 181px;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-k2FbtVUSFdg/TwpNk8NIHCI/AAAAAAAACCQ/KWpkO-ZWEzE/s320/029.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5695449975795227682" border="0" /></a><br />Mining was going on in the distance.<br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-srcWeIz-Ifk/TwpNkvZ63lI/AAAAAAAACCA/t7I5Ysw44Gs/s1600/030.jpg"><img style="cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 181px;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-srcWeIz-Ifk/TwpNkvZ63lI/AAAAAAAACCA/t7I5Ysw44Gs/s320/030.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5695449972359224914" border="0" /></a><br />Olivia was half asleep, Brady was in the car, but Thad and Ryan were all smiles.<br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-jGtvtgALjQ8/TwpNkqLjoTI/AAAAAAAACB4/0uoLadj_elY/s1600/031.jpg"><img style="cursor: pointer; width: 181px; height: 320px;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-jGtvtgALjQ8/TwpNkqLjoTI/AAAAAAAACB4/0uoLadj_elY/s320/031.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5695449970956804402" border="0" /></a><br />The boys won their game. It was a great time. Brady slept on the way home for (again) maybe twenty minutes. The other two kids didn't. He talked about hockey, the pool, and the hotel the entire.car.ride.home.<br />And guess what? We get to do it again in a few weeks. The boys have four games in the cities the end of January. So we'll pack up the car, stress about money, tune out bickering, and cheer very loudly. I can't wait.TBRKOhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00972433685307265490noreply@blogger.com5tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4024653540919430316.post-65304560742774634362011-12-05T08:46:00.001-08:002011-12-05T08:56:41.859-08:00My Ryan...My first baby is 12 years old today. I had to take pictures of pictures to pay a little tribute to him, so pardon the bad photos.<div>I can't believe how not huge I look when I was almost fully done cooking him! What a difference compared to my last child....</div><div>Ryan came into this world after a bed-rest ending to my pregnancy. He was teeny-tiny (no joke). He was in the PICU at 6 weeks. He had horrible health the first couple of years. He has been my "difficult" child without a doubt.<br /><img style="cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 181px; height: 320px;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-_L8frhO5p0Q/Ttz2LNOnoTI/AAAAAAAACBs/VXDeWnio2y0/s320/Ryan%2B2.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5682687502224695602" /><a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-aDh5LN5DQLM/Ttz2KxzdM-I/AAAAAAAACBg/sXN56HShz3k/s1600/ryan1.jpg" onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}"><img style="cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 176px;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-aDh5LN5DQLM/Ttz2KxzdM-I/AAAAAAAACBg/sXN56HShz3k/s320/ryan1.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5682687494863008738" /></a><br /><a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/--kkHWI0JKQY/Ttz2KQFFMpI/AAAAAAAACBU/RQK8EknPQSU/s1600/Ryan3.jpg" onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}"><img style="cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 181px;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/--kkHWI0JKQY/Ttz2KQFFMpI/AAAAAAAACBU/RQK8EknPQSU/s320/Ryan3.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5682687485810127506" /></a><br /><a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-lK_R9LZfshs/Ttz2KGPtE6I/AAAAAAAACBI/m83mt-W0uF0/s1600/Ryan6.jpg" onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}"><img style="cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 181px; height: 320px;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-lK_R9LZfshs/Ttz2KGPtE6I/AAAAAAAACBI/m83mt-W0uF0/s320/Ryan6.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5682687483170329506" /></a><br /><a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-YChrd2DtjR0/Ttz1v59YbEI/AAAAAAAACA8/AKZynMdbRYk/s1600/Ryan5.jpg" onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}"><img style="cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 181px;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-YChrd2DtjR0/Ttz1v59YbEI/AAAAAAAACA8/AKZynMdbRYk/s320/Ryan5.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5682687033195654210" /></a></div><div><a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-YChrd2DtjR0/Ttz1v59YbEI/AAAAAAAACA8/AKZynMdbRYk/s1600/Ryan5.jpg" onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}"></a>I see a lot of myself in Ryan. He strong will, his inability to be loving with his parents (yes I was that way too), his love of getting a reaction out of his family (ask my parents, I was good at this), his deeply sensitive nature that he preferred no one saw, the way he gets fixated on something he really wants, the way he treats people when we aren't around (in a nice way), and heck, this is the ONE child who shares one genetic match of mine. We have the same eye color. Wow...four kids and that's what I get?? Lucky for them really.<br /><a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-l1BUUDbC03o/Ttz1vU9GhZI/AAAAAAAACAw/LJyOoAG4FOM/s1600/Ryan.jpg" onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}"><img style="cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 278px; height: 320px;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-l1BUUDbC03o/Ttz1vU9GhZI/AAAAAAAACAw/LJyOoAG4FOM/s320/Ryan.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5682687023262369170" /></a></div><div><a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-l1BUUDbC03o/Ttz1vU9GhZI/AAAAAAAACAw/LJyOoAG4FOM/s1600/Ryan.jpg" onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}"></a>I love this boy to pieces, and I tell him everyday. He never reciprocates those words. It's not his thing. BUT, he still comes into our room every.single.night to sleep on the floor (since August).<br /><a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-2c3D-JJRjSU/Ttz1u0mJ-4I/AAAAAAAACAk/rmOFwiYunTo/s1600/ryan%2B12-02.jpg" onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}"><img style="cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 214px; height: 320px;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-2c3D-JJRjSU/Ttz1u0mJ-4I/AAAAAAAACAk/rmOFwiYunTo/s320/ryan%2B12-02.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5682687014576192386" /></a></div><div><a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-2c3D-JJRjSU/Ttz1u0mJ-4I/AAAAAAAACAk/rmOFwiYunTo/s1600/ryan%2B12-02.jpg" onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}"></a>He will make me pull my hair out a million more times in my life, but at the same time I couldn't be prouder of his work ethic, his independence, the way he doesn't whine or complain, his self-sufficiency, and the way he treats his baby brother.</div><div>Happy Birthday Ryan...I love you so much. :)</div><div><br /></div><div>PS: don't look at the cake closely. I had a little crisis or two making it .<br /><a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-4mM8kgWaxiQ/Ttz1ujw1lAI/AAAAAAAACAY/FrCXu8GHdPg/s1600/Ryan%2BBirthday1.jpg" onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}"><img style="cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 181px;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-4mM8kgWaxiQ/Ttz1ujw1lAI/AAAAAAAACAY/FrCXu8GHdPg/s320/Ryan%2BBirthday1.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5682687010057589762" /></a><br /></div><div><br /></div>TBRKOhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00972433685307265490noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4024653540919430316.post-73024958357688680622011-11-30T08:28:00.000-08:002011-11-30T08:30:58.884-08:00An honest question from RyanLast night as Ryan was helping me put away some stuff I bought at Target (read: looking for the one item he requested I buy for him), he pulled out a box of tampons.<div><i>"Mom what are these?"</i></div><div>"They're tampons."</div><div><i>"Why did you buy them?"</i></div><div>"Because I'm getting my period next week, and I need them."</div><div><i>"How do you know you're getting your period next week?"</i></div><div>"Because I just know."</div><div><i>"Do you go to the doctor to get that?"</i></div><div>"Um......no Ryan....haven't you had health?"</div>TBRKOhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00972433685307265490noreply@blogger.com2