tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-90065546118550136202024-03-13T16:54:41.954-07:00Allison's AnchorAllisonhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11011987988760820977noreply@blogger.comBlogger11125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9006554611855013620.post-19617727801608173972012-12-29T18:19:00.000-08:002012-12-29T18:19:21.382-08:00....You're the inspiration...Can you hear Chicago playing in the background. Love that song! <br />
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Once again you bloggers out there have inspired me. <br />
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During the summer I love to spend some time each day reading teacher blogs--saving, printing, laminating, and filing your amazing ideas. You are the most creative people I know and really make learning fun for your students. I know this even though I've never been in your classrooms because I have fun and often get giddy (Read: teacher nerd high) just reading about them. Then the school year comes and I get caught up in the business of classroom set up, lesson plans, grading, managing, and all of the other "volunteer" opportunities you know we all do that's not part of our job description. Not to mention being a mom of my 2 babies and wife to my hubby. My brain moves too fast to be creative during the school year. I'm exhausted when I get home during the week and I really have *tried* to keep my weekends for the family as much as possible. That's why I love summer. Well truth be told, one of the MANY reasons I love summer. I really don't mind working during the summer--as long as I can do so in front of the TV in my running shorts and t-shirt (or jammies--let's be honest, some days are like that!) . Any preparation I can do when I have nothing else "schooly" to do is not "work" for me. <br />
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This year has not been different. I have 17 very high maintence children in class. There are no "average" kids and they all have vastly different needs. It's been....overwhelming. This is the first time I've questioned my career choice. I'm thankful I've been teaching long enough to simply pull from the files this year but I've really missed revamping and making things more exciting. <br />
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Enter Christmas Break: "It's the most wonderful time of the year!" The perfect time for a break when you're burning the advent candle at both ends. You're ready for a break. Your kids are ready for a break--and a break from each other. The downtime has been wonderful. My house is clean, the laundry is washed, dried, folded AND put away, no schedule, no expectations, naps during the middle of the day, read 3 books...I think that's what heaven will be like. I've been lazy, I've been happy, I've been relaxed. My husband calls this "Summer Wife". I've also been productive. I've caught up on blogs, I've finished shopping, wrapping and gifting, cleaning up from said gifts, written thank you notes for all of the sweet things my students gave me, I've planned a baby shower, and my crowning achievement: I've planned units for the next 6 weeks! Thanks to my teacher bloggy friends, for the inspiration. I'm using some of your activities, I've adapted some to fit the needs of my class, I've made my own units after seeing how you chunk some of the standards together. <br />
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You are amazing. I'm looking forward to getting back to school on Wednesday to start again. It's amazing what some rest, relaxation and reflection can do...Allisonhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11011987988760820977noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9006554611855013620.post-61734932973224368662012-03-24T18:16:00.000-07:002012-03-24T18:16:39.972-07:00The MoveI'm feeling reflective today, so here's a post about what brought us to this station in our lives. <br />
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<div style="text-align: left;">We moved from California to Texas in July of 2009. San Diego is a beautiful place to live, but it was unrealistic for us to make it there without debt looming over our heads. We had been talking about moving to Texas for many years. James' ENTIRE family lives within an hour of where we lived and I loved having family so close. It was nice to have them so involved in Katherine's life. Even though we talked about moving closer to my family, I didn't think it would happen. But, around Easter time of 2009, we decided that it was time. It was absolutely necessary to make this move. We were leaving on total faith that God would guide us. Neither of us had jobs. We didn't have a place to live. I'm not even sure we had gas money to get out there. But we had to get out of California before we were drowning in debt and all but lost our credit rating. A few weeks later I heard about a job opening at a school in Houston. I applied, interviewed, visited, got the job and made the move all within 8 weeks. I pulled out of the driveway of home in which I brought my daughter home from the hospital, in tears, followed by my husband driving the moving truck, at the end of June. </div><div style="text-align: left;"><br />
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</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiQz5G_E34d3jxRFir4xQWNOK7rLpOd1LclCQHzc_mnFdp5z-1udFHqw_nzrNKhKNl-_LF4JyuTLs8gOzDHT9nazOAC2tadXPTIXYaCN1FLoqCEmY8FkLq5_65C1mmESNbs0MxIvE7pkVs/s1600/KW+diaper+change.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiQz5G_E34d3jxRFir4xQWNOK7rLpOd1LclCQHzc_mnFdp5z-1udFHqw_nzrNKhKNl-_LF4JyuTLs8gOzDHT9nazOAC2tadXPTIXYaCN1FLoqCEmY8FkLq5_65C1mmESNbs0MxIvE7pkVs/s320/KW+diaper+change.jpg" width="320" /></a></div><div style="color: blue; text-align: center;"> Diaper Changes ON the car when the rest stop </div><div style="text-align: center;"><span style="color: blue;">bathroom is too dirty to think about taking my baby into. </span> </div><div style="text-align: center;"><br />
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg0sFLT8-9-DeRJ1CsAI0_Z0X7_AlicvzID1JKSVo1HfDI-90hdvVgF0n2QM2DCp9vR2UdKhlMa0xh1B5_pdCxcHZ7R5pZVsJFbBNWSxYqQwKaYRNEwpvF7TrF7517myH28wSZjfqzSXCo/s1600/KW+sleeping+in+car.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg0sFLT8-9-DeRJ1CsAI0_Z0X7_AlicvzID1JKSVo1HfDI-90hdvVgF0n2QM2DCp9vR2UdKhlMa0xh1B5_pdCxcHZ7R5pZVsJFbBNWSxYqQwKaYRNEwpvF7TrF7517myH28wSZjfqzSXCo/s320/KW+sleeping+in+car.jpg" width="240" /> </a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><span style="color: blue;">Everyone is less stressed knowing we're moving. </span></div><span style="color: red;"><br />
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Since it was such short notice we packed up and moved to Houston without getting a chance to look for a house to live in once we arrived. We lived in a hotel room with 2 cats, a dog, and an 18 month old for 3 days. <br />
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgU-sMhMerhoYFvaXfnTabm07jpSvy1Pjzur_v6fknQPM3PuZudLQy8QnyBCBIKxqiEPX6qeGEDym2mkK_QqDrRHIlC4eRY9ecAMGfZ4LmEWaOej3I8RQ_Wk5skLucNbtbYUS3PriHLo1Q/s1600/KW+hotel.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgU-sMhMerhoYFvaXfnTabm07jpSvy1Pjzur_v6fknQPM3PuZudLQy8QnyBCBIKxqiEPX6qeGEDym2mkK_QqDrRHIlC4eRY9ecAMGfZ4LmEWaOej3I8RQ_Wk5skLucNbtbYUS3PriHLo1Q/s320/KW+hotel.jpg" width="320" /></a></div><br />
<div style="color: blue; text-align: center;">Home Sweet Hotel Room</div><div style="color: black;"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi56RLlXTYkWf5FGE8HKVMHgXTPWLVysSxAo1ZRyuew8pxVPegf7dP0QCraIMjfXQ2Cn7LnpXy8U_zV1C75N5efxAYWMU-IRqvZ0T8PkvaDPyDTlJdwrst10bad4o6pZV0S3dWig1lZs5Y/s1600/KW+fish.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi56RLlXTYkWf5FGE8HKVMHgXTPWLVysSxAo1ZRyuew8pxVPegf7dP0QCraIMjfXQ2Cn7LnpXy8U_zV1C75N5efxAYWMU-IRqvZ0T8PkvaDPyDTlJdwrst10bad4o6pZV0S3dWig1lZs5Y/s320/KW+fish.jpg" width="320" /></a></div><div style="color: blue; text-align: center;">Katherine in her "bed" at the hotel room with her "shi, shi" (Fishy)and "Pachie" (Paci).</div><div style="color: black;"><br />
</div><div style="color: black;">We had some realtors from the church that graciously took us around to look at houses and made things happen quickly. We were in a house, had hot water and electricity by July 4th! </div><br />
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjCDtNzAnLRQaC2q17IKjGos9KsFGQZ_KRoyDr9FK1ZaMWtNTx8RAOdjESxPa-BanocZ-cVg8pOptnUvlfqRtRyId5A5cox_ipkaEQK3x5dglxpvJx8X8bs7JM90TvJcSBbZfBWSTerCvo/s320/KW+chair.jpg" width="240" /><span style="color: blue;"> </span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><span style="color: blue;">Katherine in her new chair at her new house. </span></div><br />
We look back at the events that led up to our move often,and though I miss our San Diego family terribly, we recognize that this was God leading and providing all along the way.<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi56RLlXTYkWf5FGE8HKVMHgXTPWLVysSxAo1ZRyuew8pxVPegf7dP0QCraIMjfXQ2Cn7LnpXy8U_zV1C75N5efxAYWMU-IRqvZ0T8PkvaDPyDTlJdwrst10bad4o6pZV0S3dWig1lZs5Y/s1600/KW+fish.jpg" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"></a>I have my dream job teaching second grade (the golden age!), I now have 2 beautiful children, great friends, and we are comfortable. It's nice not having to stress every month when the bills come in and I love that I'm only 3 hours away from my parents. I love that my kids now know their Gram and Papa and that THEY are involved in my children's lives. <br />
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<div style="text-align: center;"> <a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjroNn1IbzWd4KJ9E1vvE1-9r7PsKYAkc2zsBI1bzhaZ2R23Piy2OcJIgMvJEuwho-o9cVnomjf2c2ikZysX3Zlb_gN2l0o4rUorQIhMxTER7yaP8Xzv8ZsnzjAc5ulhSpAjYqh2-AJmPM/s1600/025.JPG" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjroNn1IbzWd4KJ9E1vvE1-9r7PsKYAkc2zsBI1bzhaZ2R23Piy2OcJIgMvJEuwho-o9cVnomjf2c2ikZysX3Zlb_gN2l0o4rUorQIhMxTER7yaP8Xzv8ZsnzjAc5ulhSpAjYqh2-AJmPM/s320/025.JPG" width="320" /> </a></div><div style="text-align: center;"><span style="color: blue;">Another reason we love Texas: The Bluebell Ice Cream Factory! </span></div><br />
Houston has been good to us for the past 4 years, but I don't see myself raising my kids here for the long haul. We're now contemplating a move to Austin in the near future and are fervently praying for God's guidance in this situation. <br />
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<div style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi-4p8tDjqgxhHIk1htHqWjqN5_DNb_TUd3tydr7yXtUdtHy78rtdl9iHg2uEkyIAfXG-RjAAXH3QQ9RzvwAPtSYIAwlpNHfmkExeDjtae8kWQQUUdXRRkQ31AvtovyoFuiGbshVF69mks/s1600/AW+KW+hammock.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi-4p8tDjqgxhHIk1htHqWjqN5_DNb_TUd3tydr7yXtUdtHy78rtdl9iHg2uEkyIAfXG-RjAAXH3QQ9RzvwAPtSYIAwlpNHfmkExeDjtae8kWQQUUdXRRkQ31AvtovyoFuiGbshVF69mks/s320/AW+KW+hammock.jpg" width="320" /> </a></div><div style="text-align: center;"><span style="color: blue;">We love the country--more specifically, lounging in a hammock in the country. </span></div>Allisonhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11011987988760820977noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9006554611855013620.post-24539827570612101052012-03-24T17:15:00.000-07:002012-03-24T17:15:55.772-07:00Spring is in the Air!I have fond memories of being outside most of my childhood. We walked to school in any weather. We played outside in the rain, and when it was cold, and during the heat of the summer. I did my confirmation homework sitting in the big tree in the back yard. I want that for my kids.<br />
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Now they're at the age in which they can entertain themselves in the back yard for extended periods of time thanks to a turtle shaped sand box, a swing set, a tricycle and a playschool car. Katherine enjoys picking wildflowers (weeds) too. Today the house was in desperate need of a deep cleaning so I sent the kids outside to play and told them not to come in until I called them. I was able to clean the kitchen, bathroom and MOP THE FLOOR... and let it dry before they came in. This is a big deal. I no longer have to wait until bed time to do such chores. Previously, if I wanted to do this task, it usually ended up looking more like an impromptu Ice-Capade show. And while I secretly (sadly) do find the kids slipping and sliding on a wet hilarious, they did not seem find the humor in it. <br />
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Spring is my favorite season. Maybe it's because I welcome the skirt-wearing-weather after a cold winter. Maybe it's the fresh smells of dirt and newly planted flowers. Maybe it's the excitement of the rodeo that comes to town. Maybe it's that this love of the outdoors I had as a child, still resonates with me now. Whatever it is....WELCOME SPRING!Allisonhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11011987988760820977noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9006554611855013620.post-43900239208324394142011-06-27T08:10:00.000-07:002011-06-27T08:10:10.480-07:00Into Ev-Er-Y-Thing!<span id="goog_1794434557"></span><span id="goog_1794434558"></span>My Dearest Little Andrew,<br />
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Your daddy and I often wonder what you'll be when you grow up. I know you're only 2 now, but it's fun to wonder. Your sister is a natural nurturer, so we're confident she'll be a great teacher, doctor, veterinarian, or mommy. You--you like to cause mayhem and destruction wherever you go. Hurricane Andrew. I'm sure this will serve you well in some way in the future--maybe it's just a natural born curiosity. You're also very sweet and like to help--like bringing sister an ice pack when she's hurt, or bringing her cup to her when you find it sitting on the table. Just for posterity sake, here's what you've been up to during the last few months. <br />
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You love to get into my makeup and "decorate" the bathroom with my face powder. The first place we look for you when it gets *too quiet* is in my bathroom. <br />
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You have also explored nail polish--luckily, I found you before you painted anymore than the tile floor.<br />
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You love to take your diaper off--maybe you think you're helping? I've cleaned up more pee soaked sheets than I care to count and have bathed the poop off you far too many times this summer. <br />
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You've squeezed a bottle of sunscreen all over yourself (again, maybe trying to help?) and then thought your toy laptop would look good COVERED in it as well. <br />
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We switched you to a big boy bed about 5 days ago. You're loving this new found freedom. When you wake up, you explore your room quietly. Yesterday you found the diaper rash cream. You were covered in it and left a trail on the carpet, your sheets and on G. Why do you pick the things that are hardest to clean up?!<br />
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You've kept me on my toes this summer. I love spending time with you and learning all about you. I take raising you very seriously. I want to teach you how to be a loving, respectful, responsible individual. I'm constantly trying to let myself relax enough for you to explore and figure things out on your own, and yet still have boundaries and consequences. You've been in the time out corner quite a bit, but it doesn't seem to phase you. <br />
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjwQG1dWajxpkSBgbX5FAOeHU_l55DUXomO8Ws-565caBIiONZBqCncPzdwNlVBKdSHL_vphBtkErgA5_SHVEp3NCZvTJT6ACnCNhcolXMh6T8DQq96ASvQMSYrfWLz8NHUw4hfX9lTMGY/s1600/240.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjwQG1dWajxpkSBgbX5FAOeHU_l55DUXomO8Ws-565caBIiONZBqCncPzdwNlVBKdSHL_vphBtkErgA5_SHVEp3NCZvTJT6ACnCNhcolXMh6T8DQq96ASvQMSYrfWLz8NHUw4hfX9lTMGY/s320/240.JPG" width="320" /></a></div>I love you and you make me proud. (Just be sure to remember your parents, who likely have a few gray hairs from worrying about you, chasing you around and trying to keep you safe, when you're rich and famous! )Allisonhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11011987988760820977noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9006554611855013620.post-10840787212886837392011-04-27T17:44:00.000-07:002011-04-27T17:51:19.310-07:00Neiner, neiner, neiner!<i>Do kids still say that to tease each other anymore? </i><br />
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Easter Break is such a tease. Five consecutive lazy days with beautiful weather are such a sweet, sweet, taste of summer, followed only by the harsh reality that we have to return to school for another month. I honestly adore this class and genuinely love coming to school to work with them, but man I love me some vacation time! I spent the first few days doing some much needed cleaning--we're talking about the DEEP cleaning that my house has so desperately needed for about a year. A few trips to the grocery store, playing outside with my babies, daily naps for everyone, reading a book at my leisure, a little gardening, and a bazillion loads of laundry completed= heaven. Not to mention celebrating Easter, complete with a wonderful worship service at church, Easter egg hunts, dying eggs, making an Easter craft with the kids, and time with family and friends!<br />
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<b>Here's a short list of what I learned this week:</b><br />
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1. I love Spring!<br />
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2. My little man is growing up so fast. I swear he learned at least 10 new words and some new "tricks" this week.<br />
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3. My daughter CAN SPELL! Who knew?! You sound out the word and she can spell them! This makes the teacher in me VERY excited.<br />
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4. I still love to cook. I just don't have<strike> time</strike> energy to do it during the week.<br />
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5. My son naturally knows what to do with chocolate. Wonder where he learned such things.... :)<br />
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6. Naps make me happy--doublely so when I am the one taking them.<br />
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7. I feel majorly guilty for missing so many neat things my kids are doing and learning. I LOVE my job, but hate that it pulls me away from my babies. I've decided that when I come home from work, I need to do a better job of being present and WITH them, not just home at the same time as them.<br />
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8. My husband make great coffee. I do not.<br />
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9. I can't wait until we buy a house. I also can't wait to do "projects" around this house.<br />
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10. My parents are awesome. I love them as parents and as grandparents to my kids. It makes me happy to see the smile on their faces as they play with my babies.<br />
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<div style="color: magenta; text-align: center;"><b>And just because they're adorable... </b></div><br />
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<b>Wouldn't you be counting down the days to spend more time with these little angel babies too?!</b><div style="text-align: center;"><b>23 more days and counting!</b></div>Allisonhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11011987988760820977noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9006554611855013620.post-86893290555976839512011-02-04T18:19:00.000-08:002011-02-04T18:19:17.004-08:00sNOw dayIt's February 4th and we were expecting the "blizzard of the century" here in Houston--1-3 inches! Which may not be a lot in other parts of the country, but enough for us to get excited about here in the land of 108 degree summers. Many schools were either canceled or let out early to allow people to "hunker down"--we worked through the day yesterday and made it home with no problems. School and work around the city were canceled today for many. We eagerly awaited the snow storm that was supposed to blow in last night. We hyped it up with Katherine and talked about what we would do in the snow. What-a-disappointment! No snow--not even a light dusting on the lawn. Apparently, there was a lot of ice on the road, so it was a good thing that many people stayed home, but that left us with a day indoors with no white stuff. Katherine and I made snowman pancakes today to assuage the disappointment--for both of us. It was a great off never the less--I will NEVER complain about an unexpected day off! I got a bunch of laundry done, watched a few episodes of Matlock, snuggled with my darling hubby and even got a nap in. It was a FANTASTIC way to spend a Friday. Allisonhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11011987988760820977noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9006554611855013620.post-2214610986864514282011-02-04T18:03:00.000-08:002011-02-04T18:03:05.655-08:00Katherine-isms<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgS0jh4nyPAijqpytq4logcYAiULoP7VgDjsa9A6ev5GgUHfllVey49imuXoTuhE3vz30tKIJDW6wjnTI9SQgGSxuykfQccUziRIACFFocWyX3I6zeEBALXSGQC9jaDcU9rg0mZqHxjuso/s1600/KW+mittens.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="239" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgS0jh4nyPAijqpytq4logcYAiULoP7VgDjsa9A6ev5GgUHfllVey49imuXoTuhE3vz30tKIJDW6wjnTI9SQgGSxuykfQccUziRIACFFocWyX3I6zeEBALXSGQC9jaDcU9rg0mZqHxjuso/s320/KW+mittens.jpg" width="320" /></a></div><div style="text-align: center;"> <span style="color: blue; font-size: x-large;"><b>25 Reasons why I adore this girl:</b></span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgCu34ymsUuEeLUJ8MWvfsq26SJMOk_9NdCVA30G01lE-pwsropKZ4oDhdR3eFYnQ6msWBI0ob6tzK2FkzTix5F809uav4xXZj2CLyzsGev9VTNVHXc1cWaXosmhYyvvYcuoAdp7hhkgNs/s1600/054.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><br />
</a></div><div style="font-family: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;"> <span style="font-size: small;">A conversation at the communion rail at church:</span></div><div style="font-family: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;"> </div><div style="font-family: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: small;">K: "What are you drinking, Mommy?"</span></div><div style="font-family: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: small;">Me: "Blood. Now let's use our whisper voice."</span></div><div style="font-family: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: small;">K: "Why are you drinking blood?" (In a VERY loud whisper.)</span></div><div style="font-family: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: small;">Me: "Because Jesus told us to."</span></div><div style="font-family: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: small;">K: "Oh, okay." (Now that's childlike faith for you!) 1/11</span></div><div style="font-family: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: small;"><br />
</span></div><div style="font-family: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: small;">"Mommy, Buddy needs a bath. He is really stinky. But I don't need a bath--I only stink a little."</span></div><div style="font-family: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;"><br />
</div><div style="font-family: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span class="messageBody">"Mommy, Andrew can't wear those socks! Those are Christmas socks, not epiphany socks." (Such a good little Lutheran!) 1/8/11</span></span></div><h6 class="uiStreamMessage" data-ft="{"type":"msg"}" style="font-family: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif; font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span class="messageBody">Katherine: "I'm sad because I didn't have a job at school today."<br />
Daddy: You can thank Obama for that. 12/14/10</span></span></h6><div style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgCu34ymsUuEeLUJ8MWvfsq26SJMOk_9NdCVA30G01lE-pwsropKZ4oDhdR3eFYnQ6msWBI0ob6tzK2FkzTix5F809uav4xXZj2CLyzsGev9VTNVHXc1cWaXosmhYyvvYcuoAdp7hhkgNs/s1600/054.JPG" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgCu34ymsUuEeLUJ8MWvfsq26SJMOk_9NdCVA30G01lE-pwsropKZ4oDhdR3eFYnQ6msWBI0ob6tzK2FkzTix5F809uav4xXZj2CLyzsGev9VTNVHXc1cWaXosmhYyvvYcuoAdp7hhkgNs/s320/054.JPG" width="320" /></a></div><h6 class="uiStreamMessage" data-ft="{"type":"msg"}" style="font-family: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif; font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span class="messageBody">Katherine: "Me and Andrew are kids, and you and Daddy are dults". <br />
Me: "Honey, I think it's called an adult."<br />
Katherine: "That's what I said, a dult." 11/21/10</span></span></h6><h6 class="uiStreamMessage" data-ft="{"type":"msg"}" style="font-family: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif; font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span class="messageBody"> While Katherine was standing around watching me put up Christmas lights outside, she leaned really close, put her hand on my shoulder and said, "Great job, Mommy! You're my good helper." 11/28/10</span></span></h6><span style="font-family: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif; font-size: small;"></span><h6 class="uiStreamMessage" data-ft="{"type":"msg"}" style="font-family: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif; font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span class="messageBody"> Katherine was "reading" me her bedtime story tonight. She chose the Story of Easter and had it down pretty well...until they opened the tomb and saw that Jesus has turned into an angel and on the next page he turned back into a Jesus. 11/15/10</span></span></h6><h6 class="uiStreamMessage" data-ft="{"type":"msg"}" style="font-family: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif; font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span class="messageBody">Katherine: Mommy, do you know what sound a porcupine makes?<br />
Me: No sweetie, I don't. <br />
Katherine: He says, "Porky, Porky, Pork! Porky, Porky, Pork!" 10/22/10</span></span></h6><h6 class="uiStreamMessage" data-ft="{"type":"msg"}" style="font-family: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif; font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span class="messageBody">"Mom, are you ricatizing me?" (Umm....I don't know??) 10/17/10</span></span></h6><h6 class="uiStreamMessage" data-ft="{"type":"msg"}" style="font-family: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif; font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span class="messageBody">So my daughter just ran over my son repeatedly while driving her PlaySchool car. "He likes it!" She says with a smile. 10/11/10 </span></span></h6><h6 class="uiStreamMessage" data-ft="{"type":"msg"}" style="font-family: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif; font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span class="messageBody"></span></span></h6><h6 class="uiStreamMessage" data-ft="{"type":"msg"}" style="font-family: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif; font-weight: normal; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjBODfMew-gxo8VFuGOaGmvZzZadgz3QSE_O3Yw6nq6Cb5olTKStpqcJ5lDkYopDOhCH_00Z9WiL4Y0NT-PE7avWysiFVo_txuPEanwIIu70CuwvmSeUjIs70vDogTPUqkiiPU1ZfycrhQ/s1600/154.JPG" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjBODfMew-gxo8VFuGOaGmvZzZadgz3QSE_O3Yw6nq6Cb5olTKStpqcJ5lDkYopDOhCH_00Z9WiL4Y0NT-PE7avWysiFVo_txuPEanwIIu70CuwvmSeUjIs70vDogTPUqkiiPU1ZfycrhQ/s320/154.JPG" width="233" /></a></h6><h6 class="uiStreamMessage" data-ft="{"type":"msg"}" style="font-family: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif; font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span class="messageBody"> "Mommy, I'm not a brat, I'm a frog." (Oh, I beg to differ little girl...) 10/10/10</span></span></h6><h6 class="uiStreamMessage" data-ft="{"type":"msg"}" style="font-family: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif; font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span class="messageBody">"Mommy, call me Kate. It's getting too hard to be Katherine." 8/30/10</span></span></h6><h6 class="uiStreamMessage" data-ft="{"type":"msg"}" style="font-family: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif; font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span class="messageBody">I told Katherine that I was going to take a quick shower and I put her and Andrew in my room with the door closed. She then tells me, "Okay Mommy, but if you hear Andrew crying, he fell and bumped his head. I didn't do anything to him." (Hmm...I'm not sure about that...) 7/16/10</span></span></h6><h6 class="uiStreamMessage" data-ft="{"type":"msg"}" style="font-family: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif; font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span class="messageBody">"Mommy, When I grow up I want to be a pink robot." (Dream big, little girl, dream big... ) 6/7/10</span></span></h6><h6 class="uiStreamMessage" data-ft="{"type":"msg"}" style="font-family: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif; font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span class="messageBody">My daughter just said, "Okay Mommy, you be Cinderella and I'll be the Fairy God Mother. I'll wave my magic wand and send you to the ball game." (She must know I can't dance.) 5/23/10</span></span></h6><h6 class="uiStreamMessage" data-ft="{"type":"msg"}" style="font-family: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif; font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span class="messageBody">"So God is going to pop all the popcorn for the chickens, and then we'll need a big jar to put it all in. And when the jar is full, then the farmer will tell the chickens, 'Here's the yummy popcorn!'" (Perhaps God has graduated from manna in the desert to popcorn on the farm.) 5/12/10</span></span></h6><div style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjBODfMew-gxo8VFuGOaGmvZzZadgz3QSE_O3Yw6nq6Cb5olTKStpqcJ5lDkYopDOhCH_00Z9WiL4Y0NT-PE7avWysiFVo_txuPEanwIIu70CuwvmSeUjIs70vDogTPUqkiiPU1ZfycrhQ/s1600/154.JPG" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><br />
</a></div><div style="text-align: center;"> <h6 class="uiStreamMessage" data-ft="{"type":"msg"}" style="font-family: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif; font-weight: normal; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjq3VzwMImBAz6ubdNR6KpcFFXgY1PsvDQ3nno2BWsxgGZ-qTv7qC4rDyQZrHyAx4Uqeskuk-54FqP5j-pUhFqBd6jOY2rKtXob-FYZILNAI_7kzkRuyBWTkuY5AMM64F1m7PkxB853XAY/s1600/KW.AJ+kiss.JPG" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjq3VzwMImBAz6ubdNR6KpcFFXgY1PsvDQ3nno2BWsxgGZ-qTv7qC4rDyQZrHyAx4Uqeskuk-54FqP5j-pUhFqBd6jOY2rKtXob-FYZILNAI_7kzkRuyBWTkuY5AMM64F1m7PkxB853XAY/s320/KW.AJ+kiss.JPG" width="240" /></a></h6></div><h6 class="uiStreamMessage" data-ft="{"type":"msg"}" style="font-family: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif; font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span class="messageBody">KW is a little Lutheran for sure...she now knows the Apostle's Creed, the Lord's Prayer, Luther's Morning and Evening Prayers, and several hymns by heart. Not bad for almost 3 years old! 1/12/10</span></span></h6><h6 class="uiStreamMessage" data-ft="{"type":"msg"}" style="font-family: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif; font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span class="messageBody">We made an emergency stop on the side of the road for KW to go potty. She now wants to "pee-pee in the grass" on every occasion. 10/22/09</span></span></h6><h6 class="uiStreamMessage" data-ft="{"type":"msg"}" style="font-family: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif; font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span class="messageBody">My nap was great! Katherine's was not--I found her finger painting in the dining room...and a trail of paint to the bathroom...super...At least she's self sufficient... 9/13/09</span></span></h6><h6 class="uiStreamMessage" data-ft="{"type":"msg"}" style="font-family: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif; font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span class="messageBody">Katherine got a stuffed seal in the mail. I asked her what his name was..."Brown" she tells me. It's a good thing we didn't let her name her brother after all...who knows what she would have come up with... 9/1/09</span></span></h6><h6 class="uiStreamMessage" data-ft="{"type":"msg"}" style="font-family: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif; font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span class="messageBody">Apparently the number "w" comes after "17"...8/30/09</span></span></h6><h6 class="uiStreamMessage" data-ft="{"type":"msg"}" style="font-family: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif; font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span class="messageBody"></span></span></h6><div class="separator" style="clear: both; font-family: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif; text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: small;"><iframe allowfullscreen='allowfullscreen' webkitallowfullscreen='webkitallowfullscreen' mozallowfullscreen='mozallowfullscreen' width='320' height='266' src='https://www.youtube.com/embed/kY3N7Je9tN4?feature=player_embedded' frameborder='0'></iframe></span></div><div style="text-align: center;"><i><b><span style="font-family: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif; font-size: small;">Ernie Gets A Diaper Change 7/11/09</span></b></i></div><div style="font-family: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;"><br />
</div>Allisonhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11011987988760820977noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9006554611855013620.post-91092939143195545052011-01-22T14:37:00.000-08:002011-01-22T14:37:02.387-08:00A Flashback--Katherine's arrival!James and I had a 5 year plan--getting married and enjoying each other's company completely, before introducing another family member into the mix. Well, our adjusted plan became the 3 year plan. because in the summer of 2006, I found out I was pregnant. It was a good pregnancy--I cherished every kick, turn, and even the insatiable appetite. I was really sick for about the first six months, but knowing that I had a wonderful little being growing in me made it worth it. It was beautiful. I looked forward to every doctor appointment and the 2 ultrasounds were amazing. As I was nesting over Christmas break, I was trying to arrange our tiny, one bedroom apartment to accommodate a new little one. I found it difficult to find room for the clothes and items we had already gotten. After a baby shower a few weeks later, it became VERY apparent, that we were going to have to move. James got right down to it and started looking for houses to rent. He found an adorable little 3 bedroom house in a family-oriented neighborhood at a reasonable price. We moved immediately and were very excited, for this meant that we were truly going to be a <b><i>family </i></b>of 3. About a week or two after moving, I went to a regularly scheduled doctors appointment on a Friday and they found that my blood pressure was high. They told me to take it easy over the weekend and come in again on Monday to have it checked out again. Well, living in a house with things in boxes does not make it easy to "take it easy" and I've never really been good at that in the first place. When Monday came around, I took the morning off of work and went in to get my blood pressure checked again. It was supposed to be a quick 10 minute thing. It was still high and I was told I would be on immediate bed rest. I called my principal in tears to let him know that I was not coming in that day--until after my maternity leave was over. This was a total surprise, as I though I still had another month to prepare for my long term substitute. I went in to work that afternoon to try to piece together what I could for the rest of the week, thinking I would do lesson plans from my bed week by week until Katherine joined us. I went to bed that night exhaused, but excited about the bed rest, because honestly, my 5th graders were probably a good contrubutor to my high blood pressure. I could use a few weeks away and I was excited about the idea of unpacking my house (to the dismay of my husband who was ready to strictly enforce the BED rest thing). I got up on Tuesday Febuary 13th to work on more plans, when the phone rang about 10:00. It was the doctor calling to update me on a test I had done the previous day. She said that they found a high level of protien in my urine and that they wanted me to go to the lab at the hospital for another test. When I heard the word "hospital" I paniced a little, but she assured me that the reason for the hospital was because they got test results back much faster than if they did them in the lab at their office. I called James and told him what the doctor had told me and he rushed home to go with me--he hadn't missed a doctors appointemet the entire pregnancy. I tried to disuade him, saying it was just for a quick test, but he insisted. He must have had pieced the clues together better than I, because he packed our overnight bag and carseat before we left. I laughed at him and assured him that we were not going to come home from this silly test with a baby. <br />
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At the hospital, I checked into the triage unit, as the doctor has asked me to do. When we arrived, the nurse led me immediately to a room to be hooked up to a fetal heart rate monitor and blood pressure monioring. I was supposed to lay there and be monitored for an hour, but it ended up being more like 3. We were hungry and excited to leave the hospital and eat some In-N-Out Burger when we were done. Just as we were discussing this, the doctor came and told us that the blood pressure was not better--even at a resting rate. She said the baby's heart rate was fine but she wanted to do an ultrasound just to be sure. I was excited for the ultrasound! Another sneak peak at my little one was a welcome delight! After the ultrasound, she told me that I had preeclempsia--a condition in which high blood pressure caused by pregnancy can result in heat attack or stroke of the mother and cause distress for the baby. She said the only "cure" for this was delivery. I was fine with that. Meeting in a few days was an exciting thought! She told me that she had already reserved the Operating Room for 3:00 that afternoon--I was going to have the baby TODAY! After the doctor left, I cried and cried. I'm not ready to have this baby. My house is a mess, my parents are 2,000 miles away, this is a C-section (!) and my plans for school were nowhere near ready. This wasn't how it was supposed to happen! James called everyone that needed to know and let them know what was happening. His family lived nearby and they rushed over to be with me for a few minutes before the surgery. I was holding up okay until they prayed with me just before I was wheeled into the O.R. I was a blubbering mess. <br />
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I was awake during the surgery. Though a bit hazy and dizzy, I could feel the doctors pulling and prying the baby out. I just kept looking at James and he stroked my head--he was excited to be a Daddy and that made me excited. The whole thing just seemed like it was happening to someone else. When the doctors pulled Katherine out and I heard her little cry, I knew life would forever be different. James got to hold her right away and I got my turn after I was sewed up and in the recovery room. I was shaking like crazy--I don't know if it was a reaction to the anesthetic or in fear, but I didn't hold her long, for fear that I would drop her. My Dad rushed to the airport as soon as James called him from the triage room that afternoon and arrived late that night. I was so glad to see my Daddy. I don't care how old you are--there is something comforting about a Daddy. I spend the next 24 hours without my baby recovering from the surgery in some excruciating pain. I don't remember why I couldn't see Katherine, but I was upset about it. This was one reason I didn't want a C-section--I wanted to bond with my baby right away. My mom, who was on a business trip, spent that night in the airport because all flights were canceled due to snow storms. I can't imagine what she was feeling knowing that her baby had a baby and she couldn't be there. She made it to San Diego on the night of the 14th. Again, more tears for me--there's something about the comfort of a mother. I remember how glad she was to be there and how excited she was to hold her granddaughter. <br />
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After 5 days in the hospital, I was allowed to go home with my baby. This was exciting and terrifying all at the same time--it's amazing that after being under such careful watch for 9 months to make sure you are doing your best to grow a healthy baby, they just let you take it home to figure things out as you go. <br />
<br />
I adore this little girl. She's now almost 4 years old. A beautiful, happy girl, with lots of opinions and a joy of learning new things! She's still my snuggle bug and I hope she won't mind being one for several more year--for my benefit.<br />
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</tbody></table><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><b>This is one of my favorite pictures! </b></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><b>Look how happy my husband is to see his little girl!</b></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><b><br />
</b></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><b><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiQ1fVl8JTkjakU-WLHE5tTu5NnI77DAMSO8gyTBWNyApVM08FYW677N2o9z5CtNncWGp37UBGJuxVNXFFcsnmOjePwSBxs3omz3W7OWUK1zXX8zzOpPLRhr4XIQ7-qV5BEqxen_7XzB3U/s1600/KW+bear+hat.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiQ1fVl8JTkjakU-WLHE5tTu5NnI77DAMSO8gyTBWNyApVM08FYW677N2o9z5CtNncWGp37UBGJuxVNXFFcsnmOjePwSBxs3omz3W7OWUK1zXX8zzOpPLRhr4XIQ7-qV5BEqxen_7XzB3U/s320/KW+bear+hat.jpg" width="320" /></a></b></div><div style="text-align: center;"><b>My little baby bear the day we brought her home. </b></div><div style="text-align: center;"> <i>(I bought this hat soon after I found out I was pregnant.) </i></div><div style="text-align: center;"><br />
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</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj2NcFaJCFFcHn3jGyfMHfbSW-i6awYaWS8jJyP_gqkQbTLpm-ZLJJjyMI8JjVL0-EDeQYDI4hHRM-rPiUy1sVtctTmIU5nJOhQCjlHCKIgbhzy3n8JgNRZCGX8UJoRwJ38GOrP0JTQ8wI/s1600/231.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj2NcFaJCFFcHn3jGyfMHfbSW-i6awYaWS8jJyP_gqkQbTLpm-ZLJJjyMI8JjVL0-EDeQYDI4hHRM-rPiUy1sVtctTmIU5nJOhQCjlHCKIgbhzy3n8JgNRZCGX8UJoRwJ38GOrP0JTQ8wI/s320/231.JPG" width="320" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><b><i>And this is Katherine now--</i></b></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><i>my 3 year old baby, and her friend, Baxter Bear, </i></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><i>enjoying our nightly story time</i></div><br />
Allisonhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11011987988760820977noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9006554611855013620.post-72761806271781126752011-01-22T06:57:00.000-08:002011-01-22T06:57:04.999-08:00The Anchor<div style="text-align: center;"><b>Hello my name is Allison, and I have a horrible short term memory. </b></div><div style="text-align: center;"><b> (Everyone together now, "Hi Allison!") </b></div><br />
I've started this blog, not because I wanted hundreds of followers hanging on my every word, but because I needed to be able to document my children's lives..for myself. See, I suffer from the dreaded "pregnancy brain", even though I have not been pregnant for over a year and a half. (Aren't you supposed to get that memory back after delivery?!) <br />
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Seriously, it's bad. At school I might tell a child in the hallway that they'll have to move their card when we get back to the room--and by the time we get back to the room, I've already forgotten who I told to turn a card and what they did! (Maybe that's an illustration of grace to the fullest?) <br />
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It is my hope that my writing these memories down, it will allow me to "anchor" these thoughts in my brain. That, and I love to talk about my kids, so now I can babble away without the awkward, "oh, look at the time..." (just kidding, this NEVER happens--my kid stories are riveting. :) <br />
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjFutjQXt7y2IKksBplCII_XFd0icCM0-7EYD2f4pUip7Tp1fSIZpNrubAxR05DkQaAFbcbmF-Xilh6D-cAhJJn6raRFyL8wZdBG50DC5jnaHiKK2h5feFPGY6_3ri3JoyZvSDwb_Uywdo/s1600/044.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjFutjQXt7y2IKksBplCII_XFd0icCM0-7EYD2f4pUip7Tp1fSIZpNrubAxR05DkQaAFbcbmF-Xilh6D-cAhJJn6raRFyL8wZdBG50DC5jnaHiKK2h5feFPGY6_3ri3JoyZvSDwb_Uywdo/s320/044.JPG" width="320" /></a></div><br />
<div style="text-align: center;">Here is a picture of my adorable darlings, in a rare moment that they're not pushing or taking toys from each other. (Granted, this WAS about 6 months ago, before Andrew discovered the wonderful world of sister's toys.)</div>Allisonhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11011987988760820977noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9006554611855013620.post-39780744268441637872011-01-17T08:03:00.000-08:002011-01-17T14:09:26.579-08:00Change of plans...againMaybe it's the Lutheran in me, but I hate having plans change last minute. Today is one of those rare, glorious days in which we don't have school (Thank you Mr. King!). My plans involved going into school to have some much needed quiet time to reorganize my castle a bit, grocery shopping, laundry (didn't I JUST do laundry?!) and cleaning the kids room (a fruitless task, I know, but one that needs to be done every once in a while). I know, not the most exciting plans for a day off, but the one I was looking forward to most was being in my classroom-- MY space--MY castle. It's the one place where I feel like the space is mine--all mine to rearrange as I please, to let the creative juices flow, to sit and enjoy listening to the radio or my mp3 player without children asking me for milk... or juice... or fruit snacks... or to turn on the bathroom light...or having to clean up someone's spill... or picking up the same toy from 10 different places in the house throughout the day...I could go on forever...<br />
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Of course, the only time I truly get to enjoy this time is from 7:00-7:45am and from 4:00-5:30pm on a daily basis. So the rare day to come to work in shorts and flip flops and really attack the "to be filed" stack that is slowly climbing up the walls, is a dream to me. Sure, spending time with family is also amazing, but the rare few hours of "ME time" is golden. I guess when you become a parent, your perspective changes. Going to work to have some quiet time is probably not other's idea of a ragin' good time, but here I can do the work I need and love to do--in peace and quiet. Everyone's a winner. <br />
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Well back to the title of the post. A change in plans. My darling hubby came down with the flu last night--a nasty bout of it! I feel bad for the poor guy--and I'm convinced that men deal differently with being sick than women--namely laying in the fetal position contemplating their certain death. : ) (Love you , honey!) <br />
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Oh well...I'll hold out hope for another day....maybe Easter....Allisonhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11011987988760820977noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9006554611855013620.post-81761526802107371712011-01-17T06:17:00.000-08:002011-01-17T14:04:55.061-08:00A growing boy!Andrew is 19 months now and growing like a weed--an adorable, noisy, and charming weed. My brilliant boy now says a handful of words in his precious little way. Here are a few:<br />
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bottle: "bough -towl"<br />
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milk: "maaw"<br />
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bye-bye: "bye-bye"<br />
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more: "muh"<br />
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all done: "ah da"<br />
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dog: "d-d-d-dowg"<br />
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Daddy: "daddy"<br />
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Mommy: "Mama"<i> though much to Mommy's dismay, "Mama" is often confused with plants, toys, etc.. </i><br />
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Katherine/sister: "Na-na" <i> </i><br />
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Papa: "Pop-pa<i>"</i><br />
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wow: "wow"<br />
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uh-oh: "uh-oh" <i>he's VERY good at this one--especially BEFORE he drops something</i><br />
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yes: "yeeah"<br />
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no: "no" <i>with a firm head shake to reaffirm his distaste</i><br />
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book: "boo"<br />
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ball: "bawl"<br />
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I'm sure some of his other ramblings make sense to him, but we have yet to decipher them. :) He also has some sign language in his vocabulary. He knows how to say "all done", "milk", "juice" and "more" by sign.<br />
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</div><div style="text-align: center;">I love this age--it's a time of such excitement as the world becomes a bit bigger each day. </div><div style="text-align: center;">I love that everything warrants a "WOW" from this inquisitive little man. </div><br />
<div style="text-align: center;">...and I LOVE. THIS. BOY!</div><br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEguwe941B63HpnTxVUhGfuXJKFUmn5_2-vq3BvgGW32StupQqqSxgOa6L5-kD22wosBeoibwO9y8dQ_L6KhKxczTtyWUZX8UYLLubLbIvrMHwWDNl5pGRkkeiPpjm0vUpYmlJN8qE7fDIk/s1600/199.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEguwe941B63HpnTxVUhGfuXJKFUmn5_2-vq3BvgGW32StupQqqSxgOa6L5-kD22wosBeoibwO9y8dQ_L6KhKxczTtyWUZX8UYLLubLbIvrMHwWDNl5pGRkkeiPpjm0vUpYmlJN8qE7fDIk/s320/199.JPG" width="320" /></a></div><div style="text-align: center;">Andrew showing off one of his "uh-oh" moments while dumping his bowl on his head. </div><div style="text-align: center;"><i>(And please ignore the piles of laundry in the background--it's always a work in process.)</i></div>Allisonhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11011987988760820977noreply@blogger.com0