tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-86042158579422417562024-03-18T23:39:39.802-04:00You Are The Rootsyou are the yellow bird i've been waiting forLindsayhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/18101932639543215210noreply@blogger.comBlogger1107125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8604215857942241756.post-25542167951567595762018-05-30T01:00:00.000-04:002018-05-30T12:49:55.857-04:00a farewell to kindergarten<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg1GAchyphenhyphenzrKbptLmzS2XQ33H6o553mPFRMTRzt1VnjEo5KE1gi7rzVlyKwe_Psi0FV9WOzaWtSzQ_NgehyVtcF-36HW0HyEjGSchr1wNVq1VKs7HaWj-KKVCp7tekIpSZjh4bpt44LP3O4/s1600/lovebug.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg1GAchyphenhyphenzrKbptLmzS2XQ33H6o553mPFRMTRzt1VnjEo5KE1gi7rzVlyKwe_Psi0FV9WOzaWtSzQ_NgehyVtcF-36HW0HyEjGSchr1wNVq1VKs7HaWj-KKVCp7tekIpSZjh4bpt44LP3O4/s640/lovebug.jpg" width="567" height="640" data-original-width="851" data-original-height="960" /></a></div>
To my (almost) 1st grader:<p>How did we get here? How in the world is it remotely even possible that we are celebrating your very last days of Kindergarten this week? Diplomas and graduation caps and parties, oh my. Your excitement is palpable: every day at school is bursting at the seams with fun for you, as Kindergarten should be. That has only intensified with the end of the year hoopla: crafts and parties and bubble day and cupcakes and sing-a-longs. While I am grateful for your enthusiasm to bolt out the door each morning to see what each day has in store, and while I am just so selfishly excited to have you all to myself this summer, part of me feels so very sad knowing the year is almost over.<p>Kindergarten didn't come naturally to me, like it did for you. I was reluctant to let you go. We began your schooling as homeschoolers, but you wanted to attend school -- and so you did, and you nailed it, like you do with just about everything. Of course, we were spoiled by the most warm, nurturing Montessori preschool and I was worried Kindergarten would be different. I was worried the kids would be too big, and the school would be too big, and the teachers would expect too big things, and that you'd be lost because you're just so small. But you wanted to go to school and so you did. I didn't sleep at all the two days before Kindergarten began. I cried next to your bed and stroked your hair and tried not to wake you with my sobs. How did we get here? How could we be here -- Kindergarten? I thought of every memory we ever shared, the years we spent together, how lonely your sister would be without you at home and I cried. Still, you assured me you would be fine and you were. More than fine, you were great. You nailed Kindergarten with an unrivaled joy and suddenly I realized my tears were for my own selfish reasons. I missed you, but you were thriving. We lucked out with the most incredible Kindergarten teacher and you saw each day with a joy that I admired. You met the newness of Kindergarten with excitement: first dances, first bookfairs, class parties, field trips and cafeterias. You were eager to see it all, explore it all, be a part of everything. You were ready, even if I wasn't. And, my star, you shone so brightly each day. You made friends, you became part of a class, you learned new things and you stepped out into an independence that fits you perfectly.<p>But now the year is winding down and it's obvious how much you've grown. Your new-ish shoes are too small. Your backpack is ripping. The gaps in your mouth are slowly beginning to be filled with adult teeth. You have lost so much of the baby look that you began Kindergarten with and now you're one step closer to becoming a first grader. And as a mom, "first grade" feels a lot like "senior year" and I just want to pout a little and curse time for flying by so quickly. In my heart, I know you will meet first grade with the success, happiness and bright-eyed eagerness that you do everything else in your life. But my heart? It just keeps remembering you learning to crawl, and walk, and ride the carousel for the first time on meandering afternoons when we had no place else to be.<p>My precious boy: may you take all of the empathy, compassion and sweetness you have with you into first grade. May you continue leading with kindness. May you continue to know how perfect you are the way you are, and to continue seeing the best in everyone even when it's difficult. I hope you begin first grade with the same zest for learning and life that you have this past year. And, selfishly, I hope you begin first grade still wanting your sandwiches cut into shapes and your lunches made into themes and lunchbox notes from me to you.<p>I realize that our home has seen a mass shooting since your school career began and things are different than I would have liked, and some of that starry-eyed innocence has been taken from you and your classmates. But, my love? Please cling on to whatever little bits of that innocence are left and let it surround you. Let your wild-eyed childhood carefree spirit guide you into first grade and beyond, as long as possible. Let that spunk, that fight, that desire to do good and be righteous -- let that lead you, too, into this new normal that is our home. You are a difference maker. Keep shining, my baby boy. Don't let anyone dim your light.<p>I'll sit here eating my feelings in bundt cake and wondering where the time went, while we plan our bucket list summer activities and look forward to trips and traveling and beach visits galore. Know as you grow, as I stand back and let you spread your wings despite how unnatural it will always feel, that you'll always be my baby. Forever and ever. I'll just keep blinking, and you'll keep growing.<p>All my love always, sweet boy.<p>Love,<br>Mommy
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<img alt=" photo signature_zps5tftxxmn.png" border="0" src="http://i1212.photobucket.com/albums/cc454/pianoprincessdesigns/signature_zps5tftxxmn.png~original" />Lindsayhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/18101932639543215210noreply@blogger.com233tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8604215857942241756.post-26963730556587379042018-05-29T12:08:00.000-04:002018-05-29T12:08:48.405-04:00ethan's nightmare before christmas 7th birthday party<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj7Ei8MqQEaPI-mI7oHT8kAle0f36YqIED-23t1fFcdV55pQwkvElUeOgIBbKzKkbDFJ8R8KtbUb6nLUdjZI1c_Kd7VGfpngXxUt44XbOWpPqiqvQJsCPRwNGczPj0jONyrsi7VWE3Y1sM/s1600/ethans7th.png" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj7Ei8MqQEaPI-mI7oHT8kAle0f36YqIED-23t1fFcdV55pQwkvElUeOgIBbKzKkbDFJ8R8KtbUb6nLUdjZI1c_Kd7VGfpngXxUt44XbOWpPqiqvQJsCPRwNGczPj0jONyrsi7VWE3Y1sM/s640/ethans7th.png" width="640" height="426" data-original-width="700" data-original-height="466" /></a></div><p>Ethan's actual birthday isn't until the end of June, but he informed me a few months ago that having a summer birthday is the worst thing ever. All of his classmates were discussing their summer travel plans, and he realized early on that no one was going to be in town for his actual birthday. I heard his request loud and clear, and so we had his birthday party a month early before school let out. This year, he requested a Nightmare Before Christmas theme and, as usual, we held his party at My Gym here in Coconut Creek, Florida.<p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi8GsHZlKLvwyvTVEN_rNXbCcm9f0HAQ9K4MuFYaPjlLhe64gcMTz1CB4JQCbQqDpXLnQYmAC9uZXK9JWc2xfM0JlvvrWH9BmeHwaX6piEhNc7GtkOK3HivMjD1kCDDn5lX44l-rgfCDMM/s1600/ethans7th2.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi8GsHZlKLvwyvTVEN_rNXbCcm9f0HAQ9K4MuFYaPjlLhe64gcMTz1CB4JQCbQqDpXLnQYmAC9uZXK9JWc2xfM0JlvvrWH9BmeHwaX6piEhNc7GtkOK3HivMjD1kCDDn5lX44l-rgfCDMM/s640/ethans7th2.jpg" width="640" height="426" data-original-width="700" data-original-height="466" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgv2bjsw2PsHj_15D9gJ2UBbyvkNvR-muXBg4yhn5rGPDZIFhyphenhyphenypTohOt1bW6L4IhJkdujKBNpHyGfABc97hIE41ZYtZIB6dNYvjH3bt9NK6Km9KRAxk_QU7K1T_b3ofDw1Z8fi-5_SCE8/s1600/ethans7th3.png" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgv2bjsw2PsHj_15D9gJ2UBbyvkNvR-muXBg4yhn5rGPDZIFhyphenhyphenypTohOt1bW6L4IhJkdujKBNpHyGfABc97hIE41ZYtZIB6dNYvjH3bt9NK6Km9KRAxk_QU7K1T_b3ofDw1Z8fi-5_SCE8/s640/ethans7th3.png" width="640" height="426" data-original-width="700" data-original-height="466" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiQx2ooNRTZlADOI4AKgwMjIffPptEHx73I86I9ZLjrUHa4tbqf-5kcYPzYytAlRdGQoBqFAM2tTFaP3IOyL2NcDklmdlQJSFGmwKc3e44qGgD67yEKtUsIuy0eU8oi2Ale2ZKjL-vhGJg/s1600/ethans7th4.png" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiQx2ooNRTZlADOI4AKgwMjIffPptEHx73I86I9ZLjrUHa4tbqf-5kcYPzYytAlRdGQoBqFAM2tTFaP3IOyL2NcDklmdlQJSFGmwKc3e44qGgD67yEKtUsIuy0eU8oi2Ale2ZKjL-vhGJg/s640/ethans7th4.png" width="640" height="426" data-original-width="700" data-original-height="466" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjxfblRO3sG4mJp8ld1HioTKHtGyWZAmDeS0tJZFUabCokd26uaLXlLQcAbUiv_uv7Grk9-SOMvSOAouXBXUhxte0Awao0m_4OmdZOpoh18aUExbS1BFNywivamy0mP8GpAVUuM0otYLkE/s1600/ethans7th5.png" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjxfblRO3sG4mJp8ld1HioTKHtGyWZAmDeS0tJZFUabCokd26uaLXlLQcAbUiv_uv7Grk9-SOMvSOAouXBXUhxte0Awao0m_4OmdZOpoh18aUExbS1BFNywivamy0mP8GpAVUuM0otYLkE/s640/ethans7th5.png" width="426" height="640" data-original-width="466" data-original-height="700" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgh2qs2Ljj7SRrxGPHtxosI70CWheaGCsqQpzQdg6J2ruaLHq5k6nO_MxJUA_fu5m80tseyNXKZW6_XxTDxdQarM10gypv1Fp5ZBiq0HZyRlH_sO_I964mh4Mj9eNMvAU6e1X11saI9QvM/s1600/ethans7th6.png" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgh2qs2Ljj7SRrxGPHtxosI70CWheaGCsqQpzQdg6J2ruaLHq5k6nO_MxJUA_fu5m80tseyNXKZW6_XxTDxdQarM10gypv1Fp5ZBiq0HZyRlH_sO_I964mh4Mj9eNMvAU6e1X11saI9QvM/s640/ethans7th6.png" width="640" height="426" data-original-width="700" data-original-height="466" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh13AYhnIDfKYJLe_8_0s1RlbzlEht-BdbDyeXJ43rRe8FQnv7mUrxFFiBf_4k15RNZdE_rI7NAgMwdIB_PQJEDf_Yo2Z7noUKjcKSkIsOl0JeM6youeJIu-o2m68KMu7iAevm0ziD4imA/s1600/ethans7th8.png" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh13AYhnIDfKYJLe_8_0s1RlbzlEht-BdbDyeXJ43rRe8FQnv7mUrxFFiBf_4k15RNZdE_rI7NAgMwdIB_PQJEDf_Yo2Z7noUKjcKSkIsOl0JeM6youeJIu-o2m68KMu7iAevm0ziD4imA/s640/ethans7th8.png" width="640" height="426" data-original-width="700" data-original-height="466" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh0QxqDFerDwE4zwj7VLJMIyhfu_pvtJyEng2qjd4iQhqWSGSgJkX1rXnMVe42DH-GoaWMS36pEH2DmWGbghK5AeBTF-Wf9bDr2qfoYB7Nwo3n5scAth9gyIy6YXECu2tEZ8BaLaB4Dae0/s1600/ethans7th10.png" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh0QxqDFerDwE4zwj7VLJMIyhfu_pvtJyEng2qjd4iQhqWSGSgJkX1rXnMVe42DH-GoaWMS36pEH2DmWGbghK5AeBTF-Wf9bDr2qfoYB7Nwo3n5scAth9gyIy6YXECu2tEZ8BaLaB4Dae0/s640/ethans7th10.png" width="640" height="426" data-original-width="700" data-original-height="466" /></a></div><p>
The party was at 10 a.m. so we went with bagels and cream cheese, plus other snack-y foods. My friend made us Ethan's beautiful cake and also the Oogie Boogie cupcakes. I got the cake toppers from Etsy and they were the perfect touch. I made a bunch of Halloween-themed chocolate lollipops and attached them to a giant cut-out of the hill from the movie. I also set out jars for Sally's spells and little trick or treat pumpkins for the kids to use at the candy buffet (er -- spell counter).<p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEge-kDt4tS69wDDnBzhQHu-GulaguaSceJbl3gNhyphenhyphenoPc69v-b3nJY-A7Tp3TctvO_HacG7zY-GLpRtm9fgmTKPHq7-EdvovQcrfX5mue-qs29FChPhik469h9CwyS5varv87hmy4aq2IcY/s1600/ethans7th11.png" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEge-kDt4tS69wDDnBzhQHu-GulaguaSceJbl3gNhyphenhyphenoPc69v-b3nJY-A7Tp3TctvO_HacG7zY-GLpRtm9fgmTKPHq7-EdvovQcrfX5mue-qs29FChPhik469h9CwyS5varv87hmy4aq2IcY/s640/ethans7th11.png" width="640" height="426" data-original-width="700" data-original-height="466" /></a></div><p>I turned part of the gym into Christmastown and used that for my party favor themes. Each kid was sent home with a Christmas stocking filled with Playdoh and shape cutters, coloring pages and crayons, slime, Halloween tattoos and a gift card for a free Italian ice from our favorite local shop, Cecilie's Italian Ices in Coral Springs, FL.<p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjPZCbyrUOUatlvnYUnmCiFEf9g_fv-hwKU8gvtKYJXnu8fGhGZ5aD2nh35po0CPE6aldlvD5f0A8tJcazUVcft7OTsgVXyX8bOEses_pS2e8e1KLUbVxOR1NOgsuBID5LGbgsYd2He2a4/s1600/photobooth.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjPZCbyrUOUatlvnYUnmCiFEf9g_fv-hwKU8gvtKYJXnu8fGhGZ5aD2nh35po0CPE6aldlvD5f0A8tJcazUVcft7OTsgVXyX8bOEses_pS2e8e1KLUbVxOR1NOgsuBID5LGbgsYd2He2a4/s640/photobooth.jpg" width="640" height="480" data-original-width="960" data-original-height="720" /></a></div><p>As I do every year, I insisted we needed a photobooth area. I scored this Jack and Sally shower curtain off Amazon for super cheap, which made the best backdrop.<p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj52aohRE8xmk_59yifg9NNYktFHIfw53iMTkdIOyYmR3MwMzCKDzthGJXpQIffi-HXAIoqxOL-A3Rbuh5wUsVIMZyVvWUAZfUu0MCqeEPXjbEy2WnQskW6utvIzHErasrIeDTHV9StMEc/s1600/ethans7th13.png" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj52aohRE8xmk_59yifg9NNYktFHIfw53iMTkdIOyYmR3MwMzCKDzthGJXpQIffi-HXAIoqxOL-A3Rbuh5wUsVIMZyVvWUAZfUu0MCqeEPXjbEy2WnQskW6utvIzHErasrIeDTHV9StMEc/s640/ethans7th13.png" width="426" height="640" data-original-width="466" data-original-height="700" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhBAGhybU-fczfovDDCD1LkHa6TpgAG0fXXDOCLS9XmGezEbZK3I9aFDa3mpsBrTCqeCXy8wuheYMmXw4LsLOSVNWy8sXFX9Nh7esP7CfypNWW-rDGcwVyfYkQbjh13HfjpqEzstji1GjQ/s1600/ethans7th14.png" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhBAGhybU-fczfovDDCD1LkHa6TpgAG0fXXDOCLS9XmGezEbZK3I9aFDa3mpsBrTCqeCXy8wuheYMmXw4LsLOSVNWy8sXFX9Nh7esP7CfypNWW-rDGcwVyfYkQbjh13HfjpqEzstji1GjQ/s640/ethans7th14.png" width="466" height="640" data-original-width="533" data-original-height="732" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj7It7GbpARcajt_aA-jYO-8rfbNvOwFSBbuuLcSRfHhmquOpWuTUoWnJdWeGgm7IOJfjL2vIWfhpSvYE7wSmCsvVvfIapcjbp1QT_s_ZtG6LwYsQtO5zd2xh5s_vEH76bc7Fmu-poVUVM/s1600/ethans7th15.png" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj7It7GbpARcajt_aA-jYO-8rfbNvOwFSBbuuLcSRfHhmquOpWuTUoWnJdWeGgm7IOJfjL2vIWfhpSvYE7wSmCsvVvfIapcjbp1QT_s_ZtG6LwYsQtO5zd2xh5s_vEH76bc7Fmu-poVUVM/s640/ethans7th15.png" width="640" height="426" data-original-width="700" data-original-height="466" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEja4d8foKvQR4Wb2pHb3439RaAT0e-VdW6k01w1RARBRxsQu6I14liE8JBegejSI5m6BLDLI1q3jM3d_JmiotdW90OgroeU5OVvwuZMYPTqRCobOpW5Z9CPteLGxC-yLUjIpV2m6dUe_fE/s1600/ethans7th37.png" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEja4d8foKvQR4Wb2pHb3439RaAT0e-VdW6k01w1RARBRxsQu6I14liE8JBegejSI5m6BLDLI1q3jM3d_JmiotdW90OgroeU5OVvwuZMYPTqRCobOpW5Z9CPteLGxC-yLUjIpV2m6dUe_fE/s640/ethans7th37.png" width="640" height="426" data-original-width="700" data-original-height="466" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiNvqYG1O8Y4p1IiugQgAcaZji_pmrufQVb73YTjx_W2TARjl-inZUWlot7jPNTxzxh9ulXHKC-DT9-LwkTkj-uBjQ55lxQdZMoKByk9Mk1RA189wB18DHv3Nxf1kGoX6mcHWlOKuPrvtI/s1600/ethans7th57.png" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiNvqYG1O8Y4p1IiugQgAcaZji_pmrufQVb73YTjx_W2TARjl-inZUWlot7jPNTxzxh9ulXHKC-DT9-LwkTkj-uBjQ55lxQdZMoKByk9Mk1RA189wB18DHv3Nxf1kGoX6mcHWlOKuPrvtI/s640/ethans7th57.png" width="640" height="426" data-original-width="700" data-original-height="466" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiUFXfQRe6wGGcf9U3WfseRtPEBYrMUNba3V6hPA8maxcyAoe069yqNa65ZWiKcBNE79mNne1_WWMtxNE_7Gfxq3TRWByicyrx3-6mv4i4VVeZ99bm3UTVb3qQSEBUye9pVuWNpIVa3kug/s1600/ethans7th61.png" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiUFXfQRe6wGGcf9U3WfseRtPEBYrMUNba3V6hPA8maxcyAoe069yqNa65ZWiKcBNE79mNne1_WWMtxNE_7Gfxq3TRWByicyrx3-6mv4i4VVeZ99bm3UTVb3qQSEBUye9pVuWNpIVa3kug/s640/ethans7th61.png" width="426" height="640" data-original-width="466" data-original-height="700" /></a></div><p>As always, my sweet little Jack Skellington had the best time ever -- and I couldn't ask for anything else.
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<img alt=" photo signature_zps5tftxxmn.png" border="0" src="http://i1212.photobucket.com/albums/cc454/pianoprincessdesigns/signature_zps5tftxxmn.png~original" />Lindsayhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/18101932639543215210noreply@blogger.com158tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8604215857942241756.post-60725947371012595542018-01-09T12:53:00.000-05:002018-01-09T12:53:24.266-05:00roadtrippin' with kidsLet's talk roadtrips with kids, shall we? Right now, it's a little past noon on a super rainy Tuesday afternoon and my heart is a little weary after sending Ethan back to school today. Carmen is napping, I've prepped meals for tonight and tomorrow, and right now I just want to close my eyes and pretend that we're all together in my faithful minivan embarking on some adventure somewhere. Work with me, okay?<p>Now, car travel wasn't always easy. Ethan was one of those babies that would scream so hard he would vomit, even on a five minute drive to the grocery store. What grief he gave me in infancy he has fully made up for because dude is one hell of a passenger. Aside from having to pee every so often (okay, I'm guilty of this, too), he is the ultimate roadtrip partner. Carmen's first cross-country roadtrip was at 7 months old and I have to say, for a child so filled to the brim in never-ending energy, she seems to love our car trips. Regardless, our first cross-country roadtrip was a little daunting thinking of all that could possibly go wrong with two small kids in a car for so many hours, but it instantly proved to be worth it.<p>People ask often, so I thought I would throw together this post. Here are some tips and tricks for road trips with kids, zero screens and lots of quality family time instead.<p><b>1. Activities</b><p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg0KeKQUCjibt5XLxSO3kPnvD-vNBO-rlylW58qD7BeOqbijq1VqpzWjDFZaf7wE5gUkF5231ukNHPMbPfRba5VZ7F_sOqOWlieeBkQT6oujE9jzYYgvG3A5NWhOqql7YQTHPDA1B0eK74/s1600/activitybook.jpeg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg0KeKQUCjibt5XLxSO3kPnvD-vNBO-rlylW58qD7BeOqbijq1VqpzWjDFZaf7wE5gUkF5231ukNHPMbPfRba5VZ7F_sOqOWlieeBkQT6oujE9jzYYgvG3A5NWhOqql7YQTHPDA1B0eK74/s1600/activitybook.jpeg" data-original-width="244" data-original-height="300" /></a></div><p>I load up on activity books before we go. My favorite are <a href="https://j4120.myubam.com/search?q=activity%20book&pagenumber=1">these</a> by Usborne. Sure, you can go to the dollar store and load up on cheap little maze books but these? These are gold. Ethan worked on one for <i>six hours straight</i>. What I love about these Usborne activity books is each page is something new, something that requires thinking or switches things up a bit. One page may be coloring in a picture and the next may be designing your own car. The Usborne activity books range in books for all ages, from little ones like Carmen (she loves the coloring and sticker books) to kids even older than Ethan. (<a href="https://j4120.myubam.com/search?q=activity%20book&pagenumber=1">Click here to browse!</a>)<p><b>2. Books</b><p>Piggy-backing off my last post, sometimes you just want to chill out and read. Ethan is reading chapter books and loves trying new series, so I tried to find a new series for him to begin and read through on our driving. He fell in love with the <i>Isadora Moon</i> series and couldn't wait to pop back into the car after each stop to continue reading.<p><b>3. Pre-plan the playlist</b><p>Now, on parts of our route to New Mexico we travel through some rural areas where all signals just end. We learned our lesson the hard way the first time and were prepared with an XM Radio subscription for our second cross country trip. This way, when you lose your signal, you will always ensure you have some music playing. That said, none of us listen to the same music. I'm obsessed with everything from Iron & Wine to '90's hip hop and R&B, Ethan is partial to anything that would be playing over the speakers at Hot Topic, my husband loves Rancid and anything loud and punk rock-ish and Carmen would be happy to listen to the Doc McStuffins theme song over and over (and over and over) again. Yes, we usually rotate but something fun that drums up learning, conversation and exposure to new music? Listening to the artists from wherever you're driving through. It became a game on our first road trip, when we crossed into Oklahoma and I forced -- I mean, gave everyone else the privilege -- everyone to listen to Hanson. If you're unfamiliar with an artist in the city or state you're passing through, a quick Google search will turn up a bunch of results. We listened to a whole lot of new songs written about places we drove through or performed by musicians from wherever we were at the time. This gave Ethan some love for Elvis as we crossed into Tupelo, where Elvis was born. And Ethan and I also made a deal to make Corpus Christi on our route next time just so we can enjoy some more Selena.<p><b>4. Find the playgrounds</b><p> Whenever the kids are starting to get antsy, be prepared. Use your GPS to look up some nearby parks and playgrounds. Sometimes we would set goals, like five straight hours of driving before a stop and then making plans to stop for lunch. Others, the kids would just feel antsy and want to burn off some energy. By plugging in playgrounds into the GPS, the kids not only got to spend 10 minutes or so running around and getting that energy out, but they got to experience some really cool new parks along the way. If I was able to plan ahead enough, I would seek out some fun parks located near a restaurant the kids would like, and we would turn it into a productive little stop. Seeing what each park would look like was exciting for Ethan, too, and brought some fun energy to the drive.<p><b>5. Postcards</b> <p> Before we left, I made a little address book for Ethan with all of his friends names and addresses, and I picked up a book of postcard stamps. We would try to find postcards at each stop (this is a little more tricky when you hit some more rural areas) and read some neat facts about where we had stopped. He enjoyed sending messages home to his friends about something he had done, learned or saw while he was gone (though he got a little creative on his postcards from Roswell about the aliens he "saw"...).<p><b>6. Pack a map</b><p>Pack a US map, but not for navigating. This was suggested to me before our first trip and I am so glad I did this. It was a hit the second trip, too. I printed out a simple US map and at each stop, Ethan marked where we had stopped. When we arrived, we connected the dots to see our route and just how far we had gone as well as how many new places we had been! This really puts the driving distance into perspective for kids.<p><b>7. Hotel Points</b><p>We decided to open a Marriott credit card to earn ourselves Marriott points. While we did stay in an Airbnb at our final destination, having points helped us get free rooms along our journey. This was super convenient because there are Marriotts all over, so one night in particular when we got a little lost and wound up in a Georgia town we didn't intend to stop at, we were still able to find a place to crash for the night (at no cost) and then continue on in the morning.<p>----<p>Call me crazy, but I cherish this time in the car with family so much. I will never fly if I don't have to and am so content just having these wonderful bonding times taking in all the new experiences, scenery and places with those I love the most.
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<img alt=" photo signature_zps5tftxxmn.png" border="0" src="http://i1212.photobucket.com/albums/cc454/pianoprincessdesigns/signature_zps5tftxxmn.png~original" />Lindsayhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/18101932639543215210noreply@blogger.com180tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8604215857942241756.post-72916085250994047662017-12-31T20:46:00.000-05:002017-12-31T20:46:50.970-05:00resolutions.I suck at New Year's Eve. I can throw a pretty sweet party for just about any holiday. St. Patrick's Day? No problem. You bet that leprechaun will find his way to my house, leaving a trail of green footprints across my tile and even some green urine in the toilet for good measure. No detail remains undone. New Years? Meh. I'm not sure my poor children ever celebrated New Year's Eve (or day, for that matter), short of waking up and me pointing out it's now an entirely new year. Sometimes we share annoyances that businesses are closed or that the beach is crowded. Usually, we just retreat to the zoo for something to do. I don't know <i>why</i> I lose my party planning excitement for New Year's other than I've never been very good at staying up late, and I can't recall the last time I even stayed up until midnight. Resolutions are lame and no one ever keeps them, let's be real. So New Years? Meh. Meh all around.<p>This year, though, I feel a little differently. Don't get me wrong, I'm still going to have my happy ass in bed at 9:00 struggling to stay awake through just one more binge-watching episode of <i>Blackish</i>, but I kind of get the appeal of a fresh slate. A little bit, anyway. Enough to maybe make my <i>meh</i> a smaller one this year than in years past.<p>My husband surprised Ethan with a day trip to Legoland for their New Years party and Carmen, my mom and I had a more low-key day at the (where else?) zoo. The neighbors are already getting into the spirit with noisemakers (can you see my side eye from here?) and I'm just counting down the minutes until bedtime, because that's how I do. But anyway, <i>resolutions</i>. I'm feeling it this year, maybe because the last few months have been such a gigantic breakthrough for me in so many ways.<p>I'm gifting myself the promise of self care this year because this is one area in which I routinely slack off. In the past, I've determined that self-care meant allowing myself time to wash my hair a couple of times a week or enjoying a non-rushed hot shower. I'm learning that these are just things that are kind of mandatory, and I have to give myself time for actual self-care: reading books that are piled up on my nightstand, taking myself on a date to the movies, going for coffee with friends or even extending my nightly walks a little longer so I can listen to all of John Moreland's albums twice just because I want to. I've been trying to practice this the last few weeks and I've noticed a huge difference in how much more refreshed I feel even when the big details don't really change (the laundry is still piled, the dishes are still hanging out dirtied on the counter, there aren't enough hours in the day still).<p>My hopes for this upcoming year? Allowing myself to feel -- truly feel -- inner peace without worrying about when or if the other shoe will drop. It's been a long road and I'm forever changed by the path I've walked, but I'm trying to keep my grip on peace because I've been waiting for it to arrive for a while. So that's a whole lot of peace, a whole lot of happiness -- and all the roadtrips my minivan can stand because seeing so much of this country with my babies has been such a place of joy this past year. Bring it on, adventure. Ready for you, 2018.
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<img alt=" photo signature_zps5tftxxmn.png" border="0" src="http://i1212.photobucket.com/albums/cc454/pianoprincessdesigns/signature_zps5tftxxmn.png~original" />Lindsayhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/18101932639543215210noreply@blogger.com87tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8604215857942241756.post-91746755777891819562017-12-29T12:21:00.000-05:002017-12-29T12:24:08.503-05:00#selfie<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi31wFCeMllj0WdKpALpxPGp2mKx4ebpCVSGL08-EkPh6RxmM0a1yTq0xt53xvzghLKGX-IXVLSVShEy-SCkAo_kwYW17VGmHzWK2HWkAjygvIStCrDknU-fsTY38H0u3CbW3tLhVcAeGc/s1600/hellodude.png" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi31wFCeMllj0WdKpALpxPGp2mKx4ebpCVSGL08-EkPh6RxmM0a1yTq0xt53xvzghLKGX-IXVLSVShEy-SCkAo_kwYW17VGmHzWK2HWkAjygvIStCrDknU-fsTY38H0u3CbW3tLhVcAeGc/s1600/hellodude.png" data-original-width="525" data-original-height="700" /></a></div>
I began this little blog as a place to keep friends and family in the know with my first pregnancy and then I sort of morphed things to fit neatly into the world of mommy blogs. (This just happens when you're a mom and kids rule everything around you.) 2014 saw a gigantic shift in my life when we lost our daughter, Wylie, and this space turned into a place to share grief and express myself at a time when life couldn't possibly get any scarier or lonelier. Because life moves in waves with tides that ebb and flow, this grief space eventually became an infertility journey. It was a journey that was ended when an adoption journey began -- and then wholeness. And healing. And trying to find my footing in a world that was different than it once was, yet still eerily the same.<p>This has been the part of my journey that I have kept closest to my heart, not necessarily in secret but certainly in a level of quietness that no one has come to expect from an over-sharer like me. It has been a journey of accepting things about myself that the world doesn't know how to see in me: a PTSD diagnosis, a child who will never be present on our chaotic family Target visits or cross-country roadtrips. It has been a journey in taping up the wounds that until now I'd left gaping and bleeding, trying my best to let the healing begin even though there will always be scars. And, oh, how there will always be scars.<p>I have been a pushover for most of my life, always saying yes and bending over backwards to accompany other people. I have taken on too much unnecessary stress and pain and hurt for the sake of friendship or not wanting to hurt anyone else's feelings. On my journey into wholeness and healing, I have forced myself to rid myself of this. I have forced myself to have enough self-respect to acknowledge my own feelings matter and that not all people fit into the place you're in, and that's okay. This is only one of many ways I have found myself stronger as time continues to go on. I am standing up for myself and being the example I want my children to see.<p>It's now nearly 2018 and after a year of self-discovery and reflection and changes in mind and body, I am ready to reclaim this space as my own in the form that I began this life as: a writer. Writing has saved my life and been my place of familiarity during all of the shifts life has made both with and without my consent. This is my resolution to myself in 2018, as I find my peace and let it fit comfortably all around me: find my words again.<p>Life has changed so much over the years and I've been struggling to hold on for so long. But I've got this now, and I feel bolder and stronger and more alive than I have in a while. This new year will be the start of a new journey, and I'm letting that not feel as scary as it would have sounded at one point. I took a different route to get here and my soul is forever scarred, tattered and changed, but I have reclaimed my life. For the first time, I feel the depth of my strength both mentally and physically.<p>And so hello, little blog, little space on the web for my words. I'm back. <i>Promise.</i>
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<img alt=" photo signature_zps5tftxxmn.png" border="0" src="http://i1212.photobucket.com/albums/cc454/pianoprincessdesigns/signature_zps5tftxxmn.png~original" />Lindsayhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/18101932639543215210noreply@blogger.com146tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8604215857942241756.post-76000878615797147192017-11-01T22:14:00.000-04:002017-11-01T22:14:52.537-04:00legoland brick or treat<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhOpGqBbx1luYciJBWLS5Phf9eGsjWlzLactZLBG8FXoNxxOO6zUwJ7CVS9OZ0tkrZof-uy-crvPHfhzZ8zBlHLKe4f7mfGIqDiK9byca97QpRVFUUUH07jTYfr813kQqL2pUmAaVKqOGE/s1600/brickortreat.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhOpGqBbx1luYciJBWLS5Phf9eGsjWlzLactZLBG8FXoNxxOO6zUwJ7CVS9OZ0tkrZof-uy-crvPHfhzZ8zBlHLKe4f7mfGIqDiK9byca97QpRVFUUUH07jTYfr813kQqL2pUmAaVKqOGE/s640/brickortreat.jpg" width="480" height="640" data-original-width="720" data-original-height="960" /></a></div><p>We <i>just</i> got back from a cross country road trip and, nevertheless, all Ethan could think about was Brick or Treat at Legoland Florida (his favorite place on Earth). For weeks he has been drawing the way he imagined Brick or Treat, hoping he would get a chance to meet Lego Frankstein or Lego Mummy along the way. Finally, the day we here and we woke up bright and early to drive up to Central Florida for Brick or Treat! The spooky little decorations were everywhere, which is always my personal favorite part of Legoland -- the attention to detail. Wherever you looked, there was some Halloween flair thrown in -- even in Miniland!<p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjfWOMMJxpYMf45H_QbqtAHtXc2r-ExNH3Zi1_41cdmR2DSgFJ41FojzFY0qPph0uXG3dgqxQYnV-53Q6RVN0MMD9XKEKJRFIbesXzS9-_7tqHqSLs3N9ZG8o1tTZh8utJl4l9o6jIfC1o/s1600/brickortreat2.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjfWOMMJxpYMf45H_QbqtAHtXc2r-ExNH3Zi1_41cdmR2DSgFJ41FojzFY0qPph0uXG3dgqxQYnV-53Q6RVN0MMD9XKEKJRFIbesXzS9-_7tqHqSLs3N9ZG8o1tTZh8utJl4l9o6jIfC1o/s640/brickortreat2.jpg" width="640" height="480" data-original-width="960" data-original-height="720" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhOqDK4uUT8yamX0SAzxDB3s70TnkqBMaRJSOHbnAsYFUvuYPqd-boL8gyspiKT81EFTHhhJaw_Qumpq-uan3hLOqjCfq_ulGveYGD8wJrKbo1pvpsLT-go-5z0a60_MIZ6l6_gy_2brlU/s1600/brickortreat3.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhOqDK4uUT8yamX0SAzxDB3s70TnkqBMaRJSOHbnAsYFUvuYPqd-boL8gyspiKT81EFTHhhJaw_Qumpq-uan3hLOqjCfq_ulGveYGD8wJrKbo1pvpsLT-go-5z0a60_MIZ6l6_gy_2brlU/s640/brickortreat3.jpg" width="640" height="480" data-original-width="960" data-original-height="720" /></a></div><p>Upon entry, we were given a great guide to the event which included meeting times and locations for all of the Halloween Lego characters. I loved that each character was offered a few times, making it nearly impossible to miss the photo op that Ethan had been looking so forward to.<p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgpVkFOVOHiv21xGkzQ9bRbw7AQP8ky3HjI0kYsBnbCQrcWgGeJLI7KbaKV8bqKCPC9Ywjpt1Mnj3l-UOrqjgTfjatN4DhZm1d-Rbt2GmTw1fySE1gMdvHY8FGcSLkRIVMn1nuBY4pBNJo/s1600/brickortreat8.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgpVkFOVOHiv21xGkzQ9bRbw7AQP8ky3HjI0kYsBnbCQrcWgGeJLI7KbaKV8bqKCPC9Ywjpt1Mnj3l-UOrqjgTfjatN4DhZm1d-Rbt2GmTw1fySE1gMdvHY8FGcSLkRIVMn1nuBY4pBNJo/s640/brickortreat8.jpg" width="480" height="640" data-original-width="720" data-original-height="960" /></a></div><p>Of course, one of the best parts about Brick or Treat was the Trick or Treat Trail! The set up was super cool, but this mama's hat is off to Legoland for keeping the line moving so quickly. Everything went so smoothly that it was effortless to walk through the super spooky trick or treat trail despite the long line. <i>Legoland is awesome that way.</i> Each kid was given a special bag at the start of the trail and then got to walk through the trail, admiring the spooky set-up and trick or treating from the themed houses along the way.<p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiuyaKIAPyckw7X91MkSoW_RVKTEIHrbgtLts6O2nhbUaQT17C0vZzV1e5ETuuTtRmMD9AlCKPL0ttSspCSZrUjvP4DKH4AlF9xM28_IbEX8X12HlmgGzKwgOcAlrpM1JQ3S9j3uxvfVRA/s1600/trickortreatrail.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiuyaKIAPyckw7X91MkSoW_RVKTEIHrbgtLts6O2nhbUaQT17C0vZzV1e5ETuuTtRmMD9AlCKPL0ttSspCSZrUjvP4DKH4AlF9xM28_IbEX8X12HlmgGzKwgOcAlrpM1JQ3S9j3uxvfVRA/s640/trickortreatrail.jpg" width="640" height="480" data-original-width="960" data-original-height="720" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEicPCoP52Zg_r8kAp_N356ZelMzcrudm6nC9iOulvojDpa5ZxpvskiuUu4mR-IkSSQmjUh9fyAdu90BAhDHfvnP770jTp1nKq4uo9d77IJ9FVQsyjsgS-_6Uw3LT8vn5GIJTkEGV0JkyZ0/s1600/trickortreatrail2.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEicPCoP52Zg_r8kAp_N356ZelMzcrudm6nC9iOulvojDpa5ZxpvskiuUu4mR-IkSSQmjUh9fyAdu90BAhDHfvnP770jTp1nKq4uo9d77IJ9FVQsyjsgS-_6Uw3LT8vn5GIJTkEGV0JkyZ0/s640/trickortreatrail2.jpg" width="480" height="640" data-original-width="720" data-original-height="960" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgm3z95yhKd9xmsY_ekvgrb_ePHlGABMbHVOsufd018ECeXFeqtrxs33VpUzYELQU3GJmyTKhmH10JDmMT-ASV6OSau3oVmBOjfLW8-GmZjwC2iowbgVzNk2MVCkxKneLSk3s_d9cm4bTQ/s1600/trickortreatrail3.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgm3z95yhKd9xmsY_ekvgrb_ePHlGABMbHVOsufd018ECeXFeqtrxs33VpUzYELQU3GJmyTKhmH10JDmMT-ASV6OSau3oVmBOjfLW8-GmZjwC2iowbgVzNk2MVCkxKneLSk3s_d9cm4bTQ/s640/trickortreatrail3.jpg" width="480" height="640" data-original-width="720" data-original-height="960" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjxkYTXkdf8KQO43zNfnnsMuS-F5BYu-Vt_Ow-mpclkKVGH5w5mWFleToiLzclk0I5_JyaCed8KnpgNzcTn7q77yWesRyfG7bzgWL8JZTZNFMZM-R7gk2FyG3IGbpolBYC1u9Fing_pJRA/s1600/trickortreatrail4.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjxkYTXkdf8KQO43zNfnnsMuS-F5BYu-Vt_Ow-mpclkKVGH5w5mWFleToiLzclk0I5_JyaCed8KnpgNzcTn7q77yWesRyfG7bzgWL8JZTZNFMZM-R7gk2FyG3IGbpolBYC1u9Fing_pJRA/s640/trickortreatrail4.jpg" width="480" height="640" data-original-width="720" data-original-height="960" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjiSIAWhrn6qFsk8eknJ0EdcLH5cnAvBvNq1O5-elOBTOLjkpjqUkRxnfgH86hJ9c9SGMRD0orw9lACKNvT7hyphenhyphen3rp7grdIb3za6myI1Cddz5o809WNAJvu1RJwpMUtNTzNJWfRFSIejl5E/s1600/trickortreatrail5.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjiSIAWhrn6qFsk8eknJ0EdcLH5cnAvBvNq1O5-elOBTOLjkpjqUkRxnfgH86hJ9c9SGMRD0orw9lACKNvT7hyphenhyphen3rp7grdIb3za6myI1Cddz5o809WNAJvu1RJwpMUtNTzNJWfRFSIejl5E/s640/trickortreatrail5.jpg" width="640" height="479" data-original-width="960" data-original-height="718" /></a></div><p>Legoland closed off an amazing evening with a fabulous interactive fireworks show by the lake. The kids got to listen to a spooky story about a pirate and watch an incredible fireworks show -- complete with special viewing glasses that made the fireworks look like Lego bricks! Brick or Treat is a <i>must</i> visit event for little Lego fans. We are so grateful for the extra dose of magic it gave us this Halloween!<p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjMzauKG7gYkkJ3z36RZ5RcPENieIlevIVwz68R84YsgXCqvevJBhsXZEFXe-uZRaWHxsOFA2-wSXoSR4xGZkS5ON-zFQ0c90HDBkT4LNu5_Yx2reV2F0RwTybkw8K-LX4hyYReFRA1LOI/s1600/legolandboo.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjMzauKG7gYkkJ3z36RZ5RcPENieIlevIVwz68R84YsgXCqvevJBhsXZEFXe-uZRaWHxsOFA2-wSXoSR4xGZkS5ON-zFQ0c90HDBkT4LNu5_Yx2reV2F0RwTybkw8K-LX4hyYReFRA1LOI/s640/legolandboo.jpg" width="480" height="640" data-original-width="720" data-original-height="960" /></a></div>
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<img alt=" photo signature_zps5tftxxmn.png" border="0" src="http://i1212.photobucket.com/albums/cc454/pianoprincessdesigns/signature_zps5tftxxmn.png~original" />Lindsayhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/18101932639543215210noreply@blogger.com191tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8604215857942241756.post-28760617687580621682017-10-23T01:00:00.000-04:002017-10-23T01:00:11.199-04:002017 albuquerque balloon fiestaAs I said <a href="http://www.youaretheroots.com/2017/10/the-great-2017-roadtrip-or-destination.html">yesterday</a>, we've been back from our cross-country roadtrip to Albuquerque for a week now. We saw so many wonderful sights in New Mexico, the land of enchantment after all, as well as along the way...but the thing everyone asks about is the Balloon Fiesta. And for good reason: it's absolutely magical. This is our second year attending the Balloon Fiesta and I can truly say it's one of those things that never gets old. Year after year, you will still be able to find magic in every bit of the fiesta. Our favorite part is watching the sun rise over the mountains and feeling the chilly New Mexico temperatures (which Pinon coffee and hot cocoa accompanies perfectly) while the balloons get ready to take off for mass ascension. It is absolutely surreal to watch them slowly take off into the sky, floating over the mountains.<p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjY106tAjWl7X4FJRQbQVzUYKe0AsSj3ULlZG5cHiQAzqN0utOzsMIZLHQegMjKlbmnEqkQ9_BEfHRFzwjVqj6Bl89Z0fTNIO1YkFGzPWCEwilY1GjGEng-UazE8sX7H0-nup6aW3n34hk/s1600/abqballoon2.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjY106tAjWl7X4FJRQbQVzUYKe0AsSj3ULlZG5cHiQAzqN0utOzsMIZLHQegMjKlbmnEqkQ9_BEfHRFzwjVqj6Bl89Z0fTNIO1YkFGzPWCEwilY1GjGEng-UazE8sX7H0-nup6aW3n34hk/s640/abqballoon2.jpg" width="512" height="640" data-original-width="768" data-original-height="960" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhmUhXT4dAdoxxt3hTKEGJLSfcmg45N9njzFO7mbYE491z3xEkTsNSnNzVE9sJe3XlUJWm_nb80_3xbhauLuNpy6wwmcomaYgba5FwXMeDntjWFZ19EgiuuwAhCkHBXMSOcYNEwRUnR8_8/s1600/abqballoon3.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhmUhXT4dAdoxxt3hTKEGJLSfcmg45N9njzFO7mbYE491z3xEkTsNSnNzVE9sJe3XlUJWm_nb80_3xbhauLuNpy6wwmcomaYgba5FwXMeDntjWFZ19EgiuuwAhCkHBXMSOcYNEwRUnR8_8/s640/abqballoon3.jpg" width="640" height="480" data-original-width="960" data-original-height="720" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhTw0KP728ZgmsGTcisN9xRXqnrpFU2HNT-dlS2VMiWsZdBHp-7o8GfxR6hyphenhyphenl2Y1smgKIeUaor_Siv9KBahfKh-SgSWHdusrPMasP6o4pqXZmzlf3jEadolzsQKGPsjmx7A58UeMf_vhbE/s1600/abqballoon5.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhTw0KP728ZgmsGTcisN9xRXqnrpFU2HNT-dlS2VMiWsZdBHp-7o8GfxR6hyphenhyphenl2Y1smgKIeUaor_Siv9KBahfKh-SgSWHdusrPMasP6o4pqXZmzlf3jEadolzsQKGPsjmx7A58UeMf_vhbE/s640/abqballoon5.jpg" width="640" height="480" data-original-width="960" data-original-height="720" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiz9BrG612pkIKSvbxAg9KEcDHLh_nZ2CwCSHiDm6M46k0kxg0teY4-femAroglxepNX_4LvgImSd9egeqCILv8E5oVkajsQu6nRlLfzIfWUoygGkhN7wZX4HnWlhSjOksY0rCeje-X0ms/s1600/abqballoon7.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiz9BrG612pkIKSvbxAg9KEcDHLh_nZ2CwCSHiDm6M46k0kxg0teY4-femAroglxepNX_4LvgImSd9egeqCILv8E5oVkajsQu6nRlLfzIfWUoygGkhN7wZX4HnWlhSjOksY0rCeje-X0ms/s640/abqballoon7.jpg" width="640" height="480" data-original-width="960" data-original-height="720" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhpzrgUMiDzEya19U_a5lRfJcrzz-P-d2fIVzkpLIkudmT_3_InJBnZRho7VQrfZTYzwZGMHBSIRGylwAvJ04CwcbxDygmHFcKNXZtT6fANPEYIg-RZ2hsP5tH0dMuMi9mM79GNnhb7EAA/s1600/abqballoon.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhpzrgUMiDzEya19U_a5lRfJcrzz-P-d2fIVzkpLIkudmT_3_InJBnZRho7VQrfZTYzwZGMHBSIRGylwAvJ04CwcbxDygmHFcKNXZtT6fANPEYIg-RZ2hsP5tH0dMuMi9mM79GNnhb7EAA/s640/abqballoon.jpg" width="640" height="525" data-original-width="960" data-original-height="787" /></a></div><p>There are so many beautiful hot air balloons but our favorites are always the special shapes. This year Ethan's favorite was a rocket ship balloon as well as a penguin named Tall Steve. Carmen really loved the pink elephant balloon which was so bright and beautiful! It's always fun to pick out the usual favorites each year as well as discover new and unique balloons that we didn't see the previous year.<p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjzQ8mNH3FjuwND3iC5L5q1Xg6PJm6LAzu_TZjwLerFEz_4fapsL6OeB-Wp8kecY11MBlrwSaTKJTYHiI0dPzD6zyfKWHG3Zo-jqnaaEezDQZFyuxMBC20va_je3ypX5D0qLc0DB8FdZqM/s1600/abqballoon4.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjzQ8mNH3FjuwND3iC5L5q1Xg6PJm6LAzu_TZjwLerFEz_4fapsL6OeB-Wp8kecY11MBlrwSaTKJTYHiI0dPzD6zyfKWHG3Zo-jqnaaEezDQZFyuxMBC20va_je3ypX5D0qLc0DB8FdZqM/s640/abqballoon4.jpg" width="640" height="480" data-original-width="960" data-original-height="720" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiIaZuBczPMKq0SxZDuaej-tvz016JbyAJkaz4Xwso1nf5dc9fyz28h6bulKaE7fCnKEzwL_TP99ZRHRFuQaodCpHCe1VSI9gTkNGDqr6iXbgYS60YoJX_EgC3YKMUZLoabPbIABPPi6OE/s1600/abqballoon6.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiIaZuBczPMKq0SxZDuaej-tvz016JbyAJkaz4Xwso1nf5dc9fyz28h6bulKaE7fCnKEzwL_TP99ZRHRFuQaodCpHCe1VSI9gTkNGDqr6iXbgYS60YoJX_EgC3YKMUZLoabPbIABPPi6OE/s640/abqballoon6.jpg" width="640" height="480" data-original-width="960" data-original-height="720" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjpNVRrkvtpsDokKmuQnhzwrGMx4dW5tdjoYpAG_n7s5Tb2t30Jsu7igbavfg8bveQMoHqsNhRo9sk8TnBI-qgfw85KT-QUnlhpgj_t8HVjjR1wBHvYwnxaO-NDgtN5XOziNR0sFKgj0kY/s1600/abqballoon8.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjpNVRrkvtpsDokKmuQnhzwrGMx4dW5tdjoYpAG_n7s5Tb2t30Jsu7igbavfg8bveQMoHqsNhRo9sk8TnBI-qgfw85KT-QUnlhpgj_t8HVjjR1wBHvYwnxaO-NDgtN5XOziNR0sFKgj0kY/s640/abqballoon8.jpg" width="640" height="480" data-original-width="960" data-original-height="720" /></a></div><p>This year, in addition to a beautiful morning mass ascension, we also visited the Balloon Fiesta for a nighttime Glowdeo. It turns out that watching the sun go down behind the mountains is just as magical as watching the sun rise. The kids loved being able to sit in the field and have dinner, watching the balloonists get ready for the Glowdeo up close and personal. While the balloons don't fly in the evening, watching the Glowdeo is every bit as magical.<p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjTHK2B0NDDYipqT8DU0Ut5AFJy4RrwQN9msspKNdF0ueE4XyzW3p2YXw3N26EDmZoOz8mbzsoyB0wj88KS_NBxRhR6kdkPt38Nzb2f5wm_YTugFKFCvmI1vud2JGRUefhPnPo1bqiNahM/s1600/abqballoon9.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjTHK2B0NDDYipqT8DU0Ut5AFJy4RrwQN9msspKNdF0ueE4XyzW3p2YXw3N26EDmZoOz8mbzsoyB0wj88KS_NBxRhR6kdkPt38Nzb2f5wm_YTugFKFCvmI1vud2JGRUefhPnPo1bqiNahM/s640/abqballoon9.jpg" width="640" height="523" data-original-width="960" data-original-height="784" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjNzzO0IxgERDCB7Sj1AM5-5wwnsGlTvmeVGfsRTBaE3I68V4lKdkPLBj9ftU5PplHNyeBS3APdYY_UJAwBRti8y3bjx8XpmjZdx_rRcVSt0ANNNFflSNcNckbBqhp88aPD1Cjb-MWXQTQ/s1600/abqballoon10.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjNzzO0IxgERDCB7Sj1AM5-5wwnsGlTvmeVGfsRTBaE3I68V4lKdkPLBj9ftU5PplHNyeBS3APdYY_UJAwBRti8y3bjx8XpmjZdx_rRcVSt0ANNNFflSNcNckbBqhp88aPD1Cjb-MWXQTQ/s640/abqballoon10.jpg" width="480" height="640" data-original-width="720" data-original-height="960" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhH7bqgxn6dggiievsLsvplL3j2izuoktzX89GXvYTGN8XHyFsFZXdWKahihtwC761r5tMAuRhr4KmaG5VJjT-OQn47JSP6U_bFTZiHC-J8G8rI7h_-MArv13QghiQ8kFKR8CxGWZOYgAo/s1600/abqballoon11.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhH7bqgxn6dggiievsLsvplL3j2izuoktzX89GXvYTGN8XHyFsFZXdWKahihtwC761r5tMAuRhr4KmaG5VJjT-OQn47JSP6U_bFTZiHC-J8G8rI7h_-MArv13QghiQ8kFKR8CxGWZOYgAo/s640/abqballoon11.jpg" width="640" height="480" data-original-width="960" data-original-height="720" /></a></div><p>The Glowdeo kicks off with an incredible laser light show followed by a fabulous fireworks show.<p>No matter where you live or how many times you've been before, the Albuquerque Balloon Fiesta is worth seeing. As beautiful as it is photographed and on TV (so many of our South Floridian pals were watching the fiesta on the news!), it's even more incredible in person. It's a bucket list must-do for sure.<p>Check out <a href="http://www.balloonfiesta.com/">The Balloon Fiesta website</a> for event details, scheduling and to get planning your trip!
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<img alt=" photo signature_zps5tftxxmn.png" border="0" src="http://i1212.photobucket.com/albums/cc454/pianoprincessdesigns/signature_zps5tftxxmn.png~original" />Lindsayhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/18101932639543215210noreply@blogger.com132tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8604215857942241756.post-61446291457521214842017-10-22T19:28:00.000-04:002017-10-22T19:28:11.846-04:00our visit to the birmingham zooLast year, we only briefly passed through Birmingham on our way to New Mexico and it was enough to get me to fall in love. This year, we knew we wanted to spend a couple of days exploring beautiful Birmingham, including taking a trip to the Birmingham Zoo. We are huge fans of our local zoo, The Palm Beach Zoo, where we've been members for close to five years by now. It's always hard to imagine being impressed by another zoo the way we are with our home zoo, but the Birmingham Zoo did not disappoint. The zoo contained so much open space and so much green space. Not only did we get to walk around and explore all the zoo had to offer, but there were places to run and enjoy the fall weather. Everything was so green and beautiful!<p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi3TbbKXn6FK2_r2Z9Bwukw4iAuwTjEwW5zP12ownd3VVgZ6phjsvVKYoNhIBZ-JYXYjn1Mr9EYTkoglrHlvL8a2U5HLVr1KNpdvYPxIoSTg716l__W4Pg85W8ZsHMGgI0GARdqMmQIfyw/s1600/BirminghamZoo3.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi3TbbKXn6FK2_r2Z9Bwukw4iAuwTjEwW5zP12ownd3VVgZ6phjsvVKYoNhIBZ-JYXYjn1Mr9EYTkoglrHlvL8a2U5HLVr1KNpdvYPxIoSTg716l__W4Pg85W8ZsHMGgI0GARdqMmQIfyw/s640/BirminghamZoo3.jpg" width="512" height="640" data-original-width="768" data-original-height="960" /></a></div><p>The zoo had a lot of interactive exhibits that let you get up close to the animals, including goats and other farm animals, lorikeets and (my kids favorite) giraffes! The giraffe feeding was such a unique and cool experience. Carmen wasn't sure what to make of the giraffe, but Ethan loved it -- especially seeing the giraffes long tongues!<p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEha7vWsLAkFvSmq8xMHZ1_m00z56XQVcbKo5SsHglAhyphenhyphenxxlbUVLQC6B8GUfUkNSnyszGg7lO8VBOkT1_nS23GkH5iqDLhI_PpqEwAI1lO85W4dINo_KdE-Q1sCnkyiCUxAd2ZLg68UbzeM/s1600/BirminghamZoo5.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEha7vWsLAkFvSmq8xMHZ1_m00z56XQVcbKo5SsHglAhyphenhyphenxxlbUVLQC6B8GUfUkNSnyszGg7lO8VBOkT1_nS23GkH5iqDLhI_PpqEwAI1lO85W4dINo_KdE-Q1sCnkyiCUxAd2ZLg68UbzeM/s640/BirminghamZoo5.jpg" width="640" height="480" data-original-width="960" data-original-height="720" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgyWlCDbC8A_A9P8nPjTINy3VIj3y9LB2_1etxjhh22iuOwd65a_8nHK4A5kdgBf5sGLiiP2MS3rNunK-_zY4QYNbYy7q1jPJk_5cViSnGJKlTjtiTdYuJJgykdd9EdK3TPU3-rvm7j9b4/s1600/BirminghamZoo.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgyWlCDbC8A_A9P8nPjTINy3VIj3y9LB2_1etxjhh22iuOwd65a_8nHK4A5kdgBf5sGLiiP2MS3rNunK-_zY4QYNbYy7q1jPJk_5cViSnGJKlTjtiTdYuJJgykdd9EdK3TPU3-rvm7j9b4/s640/BirminghamZoo.jpg" width="640" height="543" data-original-width="960" data-original-height="815" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi2o2MkyxAaqxHmvpn_c0tbauQVmtH6FeM-CkUKdH0kX9NulJoS65t6XsqWaFXrVXWyeg8L2Do_jXh6g9PTMmEHW-31CtNPk60gJuMQHEY7D06P38WJJOz6vw-q-epyJfYRXNJ4Zx9-5CI/s1600/BirminghamZoo2.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi2o2MkyxAaqxHmvpn_c0tbauQVmtH6FeM-CkUKdH0kX9NulJoS65t6XsqWaFXrVXWyeg8L2Do_jXh6g9PTMmEHW-31CtNPk60gJuMQHEY7D06P38WJJOz6vw-q-epyJfYRXNJ4Zx9-5CI/s640/BirminghamZoo2.jpg" width="512" height="640" data-original-width="768" data-original-height="960" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiNqhFcCjkHYGn5CxHAdoQlSByoEk9c6ih2JllWBqW_0uJxOHpWdu_VS-eIjVztBm5tJKMC2WwTszJU5LGAVZHqei8v1xtNXDZaY_Z1kg9IPRlYwdeqTCej1Y1CS8C931JqIxBHJ8lm4bM/s1600/BirminghamZoo8.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiNqhFcCjkHYGn5CxHAdoQlSByoEk9c6ih2JllWBqW_0uJxOHpWdu_VS-eIjVztBm5tJKMC2WwTszJU5LGAVZHqei8v1xtNXDZaY_Z1kg9IPRlYwdeqTCej1Y1CS8C931JqIxBHJ8lm4bM/s640/BirminghamZoo8.jpg" width="480" height="640" data-original-width="720" data-original-height="960" /></a></div><p>The Birmingham Zoo had a lot of really cool animal residents different from the ones at our zoo, including some super adorable red pandas. (I think Carmen and I loved the red pandas most of all.) Each exhibit had a ton of information to share about each animal who resided in it and the animals all had a lot of room to play, climb and explore. Many of the exhibits contained indoor and outdoor viewing areas, too. The zoo housed all kinds of unique animals, from bumble bee dart frogs to red river hogs and everything in between. <div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjcG9U9medN5fvO4V6ocVZpgVoGAHBYZXkrZrQ09UhfL1FGooNsA6hS4yW9lDd96xtYy101s4_UlufmREFdtNqESE1Il-M3gmgg3lt-3SvZW9kBbSweD0n2m8zI3nwZJG8fssEnh0RfWMQ/s1600/BirminghamZoo6.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjcG9U9medN5fvO4V6ocVZpgVoGAHBYZXkrZrQ09UhfL1FGooNsA6hS4yW9lDd96xtYy101s4_UlufmREFdtNqESE1Il-M3gmgg3lt-3SvZW9kBbSweD0n2m8zI3nwZJG8fssEnh0RfWMQ/s640/BirminghamZoo6.jpg" width="640" height="480" data-original-width="960" data-original-height="720" /></a></div><p>Ethan's favorite part of our zoo is the zoo train and carousel, which the Birmingham Zoo also had, much to his delight. The zoo train actually went around a great portion of the zoo and had a great pirate theme to get the kids into the Halloween spirit.<p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgW9e4m7TYjf3UxkMiuxsKwBJKv9NlpQgXir3O2O3bj1LxsI_Y506RIFNl2VSxaAxfu0KQ3elB_cXVUcWTSJyqQVLf6A4jyBMlwg6JK0YmcgqySn8be4CIs6dw48b6KsO4Pw5IQF2Qdr2M/s1600/BirminghamZoo4.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgW9e4m7TYjf3UxkMiuxsKwBJKv9NlpQgXir3O2O3bj1LxsI_Y506RIFNl2VSxaAxfu0KQ3elB_cXVUcWTSJyqQVLf6A4jyBMlwg6JK0YmcgqySn8be4CIs6dw48b6KsO4Pw5IQF2Qdr2M/s640/BirminghamZoo4.jpg" width="512" height="640" data-original-width="768" data-original-height="960" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgeTyaZe1ztJLHP-zZn96XMqJYYH11huMIeEo3ngm6KEek5ix8MHyFwCSmqJnCcDEsYMi8_aQmcJlgjYz9M-csPgHmH4uQKe4sT-5Cl8TH6cOzZpBkcE2J4Fs0DkAssEUiq1llTS8Du7NU/s1600/BirminghamZoo7.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgeTyaZe1ztJLHP-zZn96XMqJYYH11huMIeEo3ngm6KEek5ix8MHyFwCSmqJnCcDEsYMi8_aQmcJlgjYz9M-csPgHmH4uQKe4sT-5Cl8TH6cOzZpBkcE2J4Fs0DkAssEUiq1llTS8Du7NU/s640/BirminghamZoo7.jpg" width="640" height="480" data-original-width="960" data-original-height="720" /></a></div><p>As we left the zoo, Ethan declared that even though Birmingham was just a stop on the way to our destination, it would make an amazing place to just visit on its own. I completely agree. There are so many wonderful things to see and do around Birmingham with kids and the zoo is definitely a must on that list. The zoo is perfect for adults and children alike -- anyone who appreciates nature and the amazing animals we are lucky to share this planet with.<p>Visit <a href="https://www.birminghamzoo.com">https://www.birminghamzoo.com</a> to plan your visit!
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<img alt=" photo signature_zps5tftxxmn.png" border="0" src="http://i1212.photobucket.com/albums/cc454/pianoprincessdesigns/signature_zps5tftxxmn.png~original" />Lindsayhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/18101932639543215210noreply@blogger.com36tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8604215857942241756.post-20631929649790329972017-10-22T18:50:00.000-04:002017-10-22T18:50:52.538-04:00the great 2017 roadtrip (or -- destination: albuquerque)I have a lot of catching up to do. We got back into town last weekend from our two week cross-country roadtrip to Albuquerque, New Mexico for the annual balloon fiesta. Everyone has a "happy place," or a place that puts them at peace and makes them feel like they're just <i>home</i>. For us, that place is Albuquerque. Now that Ethan is in school, I knew my days of heading out west in October for the Balloon Fiesta were numbered, so this trip was even more meaningful as it doubled as a final hurrah. A couple of months before our trip, I had the idea to renew our vows in Albuquerque to give ourselves a new anniversary and a fresh start in the place that we love so, so very much. My husband was on board and the planning began -- hush hush, of course -- a surprise to most everyone except us and our photographer. But, I'll save these details for another post.<p>We drove across the country to reach our destination. A lot of people ask "why?" or "how?" when they find out we're driving but can I confess something for a minute? <i>I love these cross country family drives so much.</i> There's nothing that can compare to just being together in the car, talking about thoughts and sights and music. Ethan occupies himself with crayons, paper and chapter books but I was admittedly a little nervous about how Carmen would do. With the help of some snacks, sticker books and crayons, she handled the trip like a boss. Our very first stop was in beautiful Birmingham, Alabama where we stayed for two nights to soak up more of the city we fell in love with as we passed through on our last trip. Our hotel was a short walk from Railroad Park, which is just this incredible green space and community park that simply can't compare to anything I've seen here in South Florida.<p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEguJBIwVbHdpm2lZSGYF4LsoMNVihSAEXQQBZunjBb7tVfoDDCiI-TBz7XhHaWpjOYMIt1OvJ0WbqDge85TfM7956mP95Mdu6L3Q_mm_FOoJPSDM8uu4CZRGcfjmaP1Mec5eI6WsuDF7Qs/s1600/BEAUTIFUL.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEguJBIwVbHdpm2lZSGYF4LsoMNVihSAEXQQBZunjBb7tVfoDDCiI-TBz7XhHaWpjOYMIt1OvJ0WbqDge85TfM7956mP95Mdu6L3Q_mm_FOoJPSDM8uu4CZRGcfjmaP1Mec5eI6WsuDF7Qs/s400/BEAUTIFUL.jpg" width="400" height="300" data-original-width="960" data-original-height="720" /></a></div><p>On our first full day in Birmingham, we got the chance to visit the Birmingham Zoo. I'll give the zoo it's own post for sure, which it definitely deserves. After leaving Birmingham, we drove straight into Oklahoma City which was our second place to stop. We were met there with terrible weather but the rain stopped just long enough for the kids to get to explore a real farm (another luxury to us South Floridians). <div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiH-3XJSwf98TZOpGnbXaTPUP4UaMrlAloJM26T3rAvz2Jjt9KEmtl1Q7VXdWMiTI3bXTKTXzocF3OK-gDSzp0b3Y0ZHlfR2GsGEBrOSDCaaFeEchuFvPjqi-Vtbv-nmqdf3XcCK0z33v8/s1600/BEAUTIFUL2.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiH-3XJSwf98TZOpGnbXaTPUP4UaMrlAloJM26T3rAvz2Jjt9KEmtl1Q7VXdWMiTI3bXTKTXzocF3OK-gDSzp0b3Y0ZHlfR2GsGEBrOSDCaaFeEchuFvPjqi-Vtbv-nmqdf3XcCK0z33v8/s400/BEAUTIFUL2.jpg" width="400" height="300" data-original-width="960" data-original-height="720" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjSoC1bpMuxUZGFbvj3_MKWYLzSkxrnGx-7aiTKwsOPQg3Hemmv3LiQIdp4pO_hIxCl9Kzdq1P8JVHHtVnMX5jy5Z8P49sepLVkv9bcpCCVK8Ln9uNKV8LaKwaMN7pK0zsFO9jXGvCPf4Q/s1600/BEAUTIFUL3.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjSoC1bpMuxUZGFbvj3_MKWYLzSkxrnGx-7aiTKwsOPQg3Hemmv3LiQIdp4pO_hIxCl9Kzdq1P8JVHHtVnMX5jy5Z8P49sepLVkv9bcpCCVK8Ln9uNKV8LaKwaMN7pK0zsFO9jXGvCPf4Q/s400/BEAUTIFUL3.jpg" width="400" height="300" data-original-width="960" data-original-height="720" /></a></div><p>From Oklahoma City, we drove into Albuquerque to the same wonderful Airbnb rental we stayed in last year. We spent the next few days at the Balloon Fiesta, having our super secret surprise vow renewal, trying out every local coffee shop in Albuquerque, enjoying the beauty of the city and venturing out to the White Sands National Monument as well as Tent Rocks to do some exploring. New Mexico isn't called the land of enchantment for nothing, please believe.<p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjIvLZIxAenOrpdAB4IZNXQeaXlWyLEmeLBZ6XvV3avPUV6rG9bNFBBd8RXbUaenhrv5wtku1X5OVuKgA24yS49ZMyx5OuM_EquAPdpEy-Sj_zSfnRb5NTb5oIAaXwJ5UOG78VkMvYThLc/s1600/snownm2.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjIvLZIxAenOrpdAB4IZNXQeaXlWyLEmeLBZ6XvV3avPUV6rG9bNFBBd8RXbUaenhrv5wtku1X5OVuKgA24yS49ZMyx5OuM_EquAPdpEy-Sj_zSfnRb5NTb5oIAaXwJ5UOG78VkMvYThLc/s400/snownm2.jpg" width="320" height="400" data-original-width="768" data-original-height="960" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjCaFUiO0yTDzHIFl0cV6Blq6AHr6sEVfKPFTqLHemaZsQ9oK6ADLb2f0QcNAu5rHIiz0Jgrw3YAI01IQgPLc3ylaFo6wcBInfN0-Sjf1Cc2skfoMHRawxFqG4WrEyv5WKM3VeuposzO2M/s1600/snownm3.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjCaFUiO0yTDzHIFl0cV6Blq6AHr6sEVfKPFTqLHemaZsQ9oK6ADLb2f0QcNAu5rHIiz0Jgrw3YAI01IQgPLc3ylaFo6wcBInfN0-Sjf1Cc2skfoMHRawxFqG4WrEyv5WKM3VeuposzO2M/s400/snownm3.jpg" width="400" height="300" data-original-width="960" data-original-height="720" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhGRP28L4BCzpe9hVnVBwgNbuRdicRUIzEEyac24vr74bpBIZE2TeHY2hyYoO2PdsDUtCRUxDnVxlwQ-hPLE7xdrc-uIugOPb2GF_M3eprq37QtH65sO8nkU5PhbAcIV3FOMkIUf3Iribw/s1600/snownm4.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhGRP28L4BCzpe9hVnVBwgNbuRdicRUIzEEyac24vr74bpBIZE2TeHY2hyYoO2PdsDUtCRUxDnVxlwQ-hPLE7xdrc-uIugOPb2GF_M3eprq37QtH65sO8nkU5PhbAcIV3FOMkIUf3Iribw/s400/snownm4.jpg" width="320" height="400" data-original-width="768" data-original-height="960" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiE-K5PH74Q0dhdsvOS0zTdubojmsoqzjoZI5fxNIuKbGv7hZU49mY9CpRSoZQRvPQE5-z6VtmmpvqY5Lh_oh4NcCUBzz6Vcvi5K80FoiyGb4zWlI0t26Y1ed9wE-FGXa2IWV8DTmf25gQ/s1600/snownm.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiE-K5PH74Q0dhdsvOS0zTdubojmsoqzjoZI5fxNIuKbGv7hZU49mY9CpRSoZQRvPQE5-z6VtmmpvqY5Lh_oh4NcCUBzz6Vcvi5K80FoiyGb4zWlI0t26Y1ed9wE-FGXa2IWV8DTmf25gQ/s400/snownm.jpg" width="300" height="400" data-original-width="720" data-original-height="960" /></a></div><p>We came back last Sunday and have been swirling around with the chaos that is coming home from such a trip: laundry and cleaning and schoolwork and Halloween parties (oh, the Halloween parties) so this update has taken me longer to get up than I would have liked. But over the next couple of days, I'll break down more details about our trip including some roadtrippin' with kids tips as well as a quick guide to New Mexico with kids.
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<img alt=" photo signature_zps5tftxxmn.png" border="0" src="http://i1212.photobucket.com/albums/cc454/pianoprincessdesigns/signature_zps5tftxxmn.png~original" />Lindsayhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/18101932639543215210noreply@blogger.com21tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8604215857942241756.post-76854037748059594642017-09-26T21:54:00.001-04:002017-09-26T22:00:09.377-04:00acheMy oldest child came home from school with a permission slip for his first ever field trip. "I don't want to go," he says, "because you're supposed to get on a bus without a parent. I want to go if you take me." The weight of this field trip with it's taunting permission slip that sits on my table unfilled out (as there's no way I'm putting my Kindergartener on a bus and sending him off on a field trip without me) -- well, it's crushing. I stop thinking about it just long enough to watch my 18-month old pull a stack of paper onto the floor, following it up with an avalanche of crayons that never made their way back into the container in which they were <i>supposed</i> to be put back into yesterday. My youngest is more independent than my oldest ever was, even now at eighteen months when she'd rather eat ice-cream with her fingers than ask me for help with the spoon that keeps getting stuck in the thick, white scoops of vanilla Ben & Jerry's. My oldest remains more attached still, just slightly seeking out enough independence to give me anxiety in that "what do you MEAN you don't need me to walk you all the way into your classroom?" kind of way. My oldest would sit and paint for hours, even as a toddler, but my youngest will humor me with a fifteen second crayon drawing before moving on to color the floor or walls or whatever is closest by. I'd say they're a perfect balance but maybe only if you replace the word balance with chaos and throw in a lot of love and laughter and high-pitched shrieking because that's apparently my toddler's favorite tone to speak in lately.<p>Still, the bassinet that I carefully picked out when my Kindergartner was an embryo inside my uterus sits in the garage. I've humored my husband that I'm going to sell it, listing it for way more than it's worth and acting surprised when no one bites. We could use the space in the garage, of course, and I'm sure there are new parents out there who could use a bassinet but I cannot part with it. For most other mothers, this often means "we don't know if we're finished having babies yet." It's probably the hottest topic of playground conversation: how to know if you're done having kids while surveying other moms to figure out who still has reproduction on the table. The thing is this: we're done having babies. We're done having babies because life told me I had no choice but to be done having babies, whether from my womb or someone else's. The extra room I always said we would have a closet built into to turn it into a bedroom will forever remain some mixture of a playroom, Lego workshop and Room To Keep Clutter. We'll never get to pluck any of the baby names we've stuffed up into our brains and see them in print on another birth certificate. We'll never get to decide who gets to make the bottle and feed the baby at 2 a.m. and soon, before we know it, I'm sure, we will never buy another box of diapers.<p>I've been thinking about this a lot: the lasts. When did it become the norm for my oldest to walk alongside the grocery store cart and not ask to ride? When was the last time he sat in the cart, balloon in one hand and cookie in the other? When was the last time he wore a diaper, even? The lasts all blend together underneath the mess of the chaotic days and eventually you adjust to the sleep deprivation and you just sort of accept the new normals as they come. I'm there now, facing my issues of permission slips and field trips and open houses while juggling a toddler's dance classes and gym classes and no-longer-monthly well-visits. Never will I ever bottle feed a baby again, or have that moment where I get to see my baby for the first time and think <i>this is it, here you are</i>. Never will I ever get to sit through another mommy and me class with infants sprawled across blankets as tired new moms discuss milestones and how much (or how little) sleep they got the night before. That phase of my life is over, even if by no choice of my own, and as much as this phase of life is beautiful and wonderful and perfect, I will always be able to feel the ache.<p>
I will forever miss the normalcy that was robbed from me when my baby wouldn't make it. I will miss the children we never got to have, the ones I had in mind when I insisted upon bench seating for our larger than life dining room table when we were just twenty-one years old. And, I know, one day I will look back and miss -- with the same dreadful ache -- the Kindergarten years, the toddler years, the high-pitched dance parties to DMX and Andrew McMahon in my living room while dinner burns in the oven. I will miss permission slips and field trips being my biggest worries. I will miss having to clean crayon off of the walls and the floor and the mirror and the side of my car (I'm still not sure how that happened). The ache will be there, buried underneath the memories from this phase of life, too. I put a lot of stock into being present in the moment but I'm realizing each day just how very valuable memories themselves are.<p>Onward. With the unbelievable joy, the laughter, the chaos and the aches that become a part of you -- onward. Because that is the greatest gift life can give you.
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<img alt=" photo signature_zps5tftxxmn.png" border="0" src="http://i1212.photobucket.com/albums/cc454/pianoprincessdesigns/signature_zps5tftxxmn.png~original" />Lindsayhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/18101932639543215210noreply@blogger.com20tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8604215857942241756.post-14134154876235491422017-09-13T21:59:00.002-04:002017-09-13T21:59:39.880-04:00hurricane daysIn the wake of Hurricane Irma, schools are closed in our county through Monday. Ethan was devastated to hear the news, wishing instead that he could be back at school with his classmates and his teacher and having specials ("I didn't even get the full week of art class!"). He was excited to turn in the sentences he'd written at home and he wanted to return <i>The Polar Express</i> and check out a new book at the school library. He is a serious Kindergartener now, of course, and I think he feels a little frustrated for this bump in his sweet, enjoyable Kindergartener day. A break in routine is hard for kids, which I know. He was finally into this wonderful groove at a new school and making new friends and, bam, hurricane. Selfishly, though, I am loving having both kids home. It would be a little more interesting if things were open -- like the zoo, museums or even the <i>parks</i>, which are all closed save for one -- but we're doing the best with what we've got.<p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhm3oOdhSl0xLMchKVP_SdJvY3WTJjKM-eE5V3ajtdSimYdi5Z6xRHdM2cRa4nmmJEtd6KyW916rFouQeQVtjSnNDn0qOTUh-Jhij-0DdCSh_SaCkJOCaARLNFh9yEcuxoOv4j6JeH2JHA/s1600/summerbabies.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhm3oOdhSl0xLMchKVP_SdJvY3WTJjKM-eE5V3ajtdSimYdi5Z6xRHdM2cRa4nmmJEtd6KyW916rFouQeQVtjSnNDn0qOTUh-Jhij-0DdCSh_SaCkJOCaARLNFh9yEcuxoOv4j6JeH2JHA/s640/summerbabies.jpg" width="577" height="640" data-original-width="866" data-original-height="960" /></a></div><p>It's hot out. Everything is closed, the traffic lights are out and a bubblebath is basically the best idea for fun around here these days. Carmen, however, is loving having her brother home and despite his deep concern for being out of Kindergarten all week, I think Ethan might be having fun, too. In so many ways, he is like me: a planner, down to the last detail. He makes lists and schedules and spontaneity kind of freaks him out. All that said, I'm pretty proud of him and how he's gone with the flow on our post-hurricane week at home.<p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjtTYT46Brqg-I0BV0gLrpdQv0Kk60EEGoVZtOpG_I4HDD-sRXTTo35bhqchy4F6WULynzj7eZAGdB3qk7PESgZk1WFhOzxpqkCHmIWRfNwkOzqVJfBKvnRMf7eTkIEmS9-qa6oSiEuouU/s1600/summerbabies2.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjtTYT46Brqg-I0BV0gLrpdQv0Kk60EEGoVZtOpG_I4HDD-sRXTTo35bhqchy4F6WULynzj7eZAGdB3qk7PESgZk1WFhOzxpqkCHmIWRfNwkOzqVJfBKvnRMf7eTkIEmS9-qa6oSiEuouU/s640/summerbabies2.jpg" width="640" height="523" data-original-width="960" data-original-height="784" /></a></div><p>Carmen has been waking up early, seeking out her brother from the moment her eyes open (usually hours before his). The bond that they have is unbreakable and, if nothing else, it gives me a little bit of peace as a mother. I'm enjoying this week of downtime and sibling bonding and making our own fun out of backyard treasure hunts and finger paint projects. I always think of how long I believed Ethan would never get to be a big brother and then now, here he is, being the big brother dreams are made of. That feeling is one I've gotten to carry close to my heart all week, and it's been the peace my days are rooted in.
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<img alt=" photo signature_zps5tftxxmn.png" border="0" src="http://i1212.photobucket.com/albums/cc454/pianoprincessdesigns/signature_zps5tftxxmn.png~original" />Lindsayhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/18101932639543215210noreply@blogger.com9tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8604215857942241756.post-32518338409038929362017-09-12T21:28:00.000-04:002017-09-12T21:28:13.128-04:00limitless<center><p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiJ_xfYnGym_dEh8ld2Ri5cWm5HRPNINgZGVbIKH-cXAn_BRmUCmcizWQEUzO4FqSi993AAkm4yUNPpg6p4A4HlkRgnzJDKInEsgIFK4M5689Dqe7uc0_ZXlN4wZ5Tw_Fjxb1RAlvk0RzE/s1600/preciousones.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiJ_xfYnGym_dEh8ld2Ri5cWm5HRPNINgZGVbIKH-cXAn_BRmUCmcizWQEUzO4FqSi993AAkm4yUNPpg6p4A4HlkRgnzJDKInEsgIFK4M5689Dqe7uc0_ZXlN4wZ5Tw_Fjxb1RAlvk0RzE/s640/preciousones.jpg" width="640" height="366" data-original-width="960" data-original-height="549" /></a></div><p></center>
To my children:<p>I will love you every one of your days. The bad ones, when your heart aches and you haven't showered in days and your hair is matted and sweaty and unkempt. The good ones, when you land that new job or win that trophy or any of life's little victories that make you beam in the wonder that is your worth. I will love you for these and for all of the days in between: the mundane, routine days of wake and dress and school and bedtime and repeat. I will love you when you fail, when you falter, when you make mistakes that in hindsight you knew were mistakes all along. I will love you through all of these things because I have breathed in your wonder, because you are my children, because there is nothing in life more incredible to me than you.<p>You both have needed me to feed you and hold you and rock you to sleep and help you learn to sit and walk and read; for so many years, I have been so very needed by you. It has been me who holds the power to kiss away your boo-boos, to hold your hand when you visit someplace new; it has been me who gives you the bravery to sleep in your room at night when it seems too dark. You have needed me for so long that some days I feel depleted from being needed so much, the fullness of every moment of every day stinging at my eyelids until they simply must close. This being needed fulfills me and fuels me as well. Motherhood is complex and intricate because it matters more in my life than anything else in the world. You, my children, matter more in my life than anything else in the world. But one day you will not need me as much and I know this to be true, even if it's a truth so very far from my current reality.<p>When you look back on me, your mother, I hope you see strength. I hope you remember someone who never settled or made excuses. I hope you remember me as having fight in me that I struggle to find most days but know is there. I know it's there because of you. I've never felt particularly strong and I cower more than I stand up for myself in most situations but all I need to do better is remembering that you're watching me and that, as intimidating as it may be, I am the example you base your entire lives around.<p>When you are grown up, in the days when you don't need me quite so much anymore, I hope you are who you are because of your childhood and that that is a good thing. I hope you are happy and free and proud of your truest selves because of your childhood and the roots I gave you, the dreams I helped you form and the wings I insisted you soar with. I hope you are the strong, well-rounded, kind souls as adults that you are now as children because of your childhood, not in spite of it.<p>Tonight you both sleep soundly, the hum of your sound machines permeating from underneath your bedroom doors into the quiet of the living room. Tonight I hope you both dream with every bit of your imagination and heart. I hope you wake with not a care in the world and know -- truly know -- your worth as people. I hope you never question your talent or beauty or intelligence or grit or that you have what it takes to move mountains. May you wear that confidence and love in the same places I wear my own scars of insecurity. May your smiles always beam as bright as they do now, your eyes twinkling glimmers of hope into a world that feels dull more often than not. May you always run to me the way you do now, falling perfectly into my arms and knowing my embrace will hold you even when you're adults who are bigger than I am. I hope you go to sleep each night knowing that you are perfect the way you are, that you are unique gifts to this world and that we as a society are better for the dreams and kindness that you bring forward into this world. May you know that mistakes are worth making and that your stumbles give way to stepping stones that will take you to places greater than you could have ever imagined, but places that I've always known were meant for you. You have amazed me, both of you, since the days when you slept swaddled in my arms and slept for three hour stretches. You have amazed me since the day I became fortunate enough to be your mother and it is my greatest wish that you never stop amazing yourselves.
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<img alt=" photo signature_zps5tftxxmn.png" border="0" src="http://i1212.photobucket.com/albums/cc454/pianoprincessdesigns/signature_zps5tftxxmn.png~original" />Lindsayhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/18101932639543215210noreply@blogger.com10tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8604215857942241756.post-10503516174556119262017-09-11T22:50:00.001-04:002017-09-11T22:50:55.503-04:00irmaHurricane Irma made her way slowly through Florida over the last couple of days. For us here in Southeast Florida, her impact wasn't as scary as originally predicted. At the very last minute, she veered west and we were spared of most damages short of downed trees and light poles. When we still expected the storm to hit as a category 4 or 5, we packed up the kids, the pets and our valuables and headed to my parents house about ten minutes down the road.<p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEju0Li8MvDdwnHv3Zl8AB7vdO7WubEVy8uzB5BF2LC9_jCayIGr9wyt4kubhiDtDurmkcvodpKwW6duk_joK-1Pf-MeCueIsbuhYi_8mMFgGX75m6pFEv70wmqHdsbkimVgH_N57RvEnNE/s1600/irma3.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEju0Li8MvDdwnHv3Zl8AB7vdO7WubEVy8uzB5BF2LC9_jCayIGr9wyt4kubhiDtDurmkcvodpKwW6duk_joK-1Pf-MeCueIsbuhYi_8mMFgGX75m6pFEv70wmqHdsbkimVgH_N57RvEnNE/s640/irma3.jpg" width="640" height="554" data-original-width="960" data-original-height="831" /></a></div><p>Packing up your stuff is hard. Deciding what to take and what to leave is tricky when there's a good probability you'll return to ruins, or close enough to it to forever scar your children. I spent most of the days leading up to the storm packing up the kids rooms and worrying they would return home to floods and debris. Ethan decided all he needed was his teddy bear, a ball he won at Monster Golf and a box of graham sticks. For a child prone to anxiety and worry, I was surprisingly pleased with how carefree he remained through the entire ordeal, even going to sleep without mentioning the wind that was howling outside the window.<p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiPtqsmTqcCuNP__8AdR3eqzAfaykcQyFJ51OVxFrT0dL50v0jT7zYGLi04OiG3cYVm3WglhAZybuICYfJ_5YVvVEPD4GaMMJYz3kO1pCRv2x4pN2uSh2_fosS06_4lXveV7sKUs0XoHVA/s1600/irma2.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiPtqsmTqcCuNP__8AdR3eqzAfaykcQyFJ51OVxFrT0dL50v0jT7zYGLi04OiG3cYVm3WglhAZybuICYfJ_5YVvVEPD4GaMMJYz3kO1pCRv2x4pN2uSh2_fosS06_4lXveV7sKUs0XoHVA/s640/irma2.jpg" width="512" height="640" data-original-width="768" data-original-height="960" /></a></div><p>We came back home to no damage and we still had our power on. The west coast of Florida, the Keys and the Caribbean weren't so lucky. My heart breaks for all of those who have returned home to ruins, who have lost their loved ones or their belongings in this horrible storm. I've heard a lot of people complaining about no power or superficial water damage or even branches that have dinged up a car on the driveway, but we were spared. We are lucky. And over the next couple of days when everyone's yards have been raked and the uprooted trees have been removed, it's our job to help others who weren't as lucky in Irma's aftermath. Onward, South Florida.
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<img alt=" photo signature_zps5tftxxmn.png" border="0" src="http://i1212.photobucket.com/albums/cc454/pianoprincessdesigns/signature_zps5tftxxmn.png~original" />Lindsayhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/18101932639543215210noreply@blogger.com7tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8604215857942241756.post-45631588327279036642017-09-03T15:56:00.000-04:002017-09-03T15:56:04.350-04:00unicorn bark<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjb_JCvUkUxd5CVvjhqxbm1Rp2KlXrkdQQjh2fcMFFVEqs-J5PnL0qNGWCcdB1W_66Z5RhQeSkVLW65KOPQNlOkBCpBxLx5a_j0dpYAm5iuxoUA1U3hkndQFr-35dpBBEEyBBtvqXElW5s/s1600/bark.png" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjb_JCvUkUxd5CVvjhqxbm1Rp2KlXrkdQQjh2fcMFFVEqs-J5PnL0qNGWCcdB1W_66Z5RhQeSkVLW65KOPQNlOkBCpBxLx5a_j0dpYAm5iuxoUA1U3hkndQFr-35dpBBEEyBBtvqXElW5s/s640/bark.png" width="640" height="480" data-original-width="700" data-original-height="525" /></a></div><p>Both kids are sick, it's a long weekend and we are holed up in the house trying not to spread germs or drive each other totally nuts. Unlike during the week when I make myself crazy trying to get something that resembles dinner on the table so that everyone gets to bed at a reasonable hour (hello, school days), I now have some more time to try out recipes. As it turns out, I still loathe cooking even with all of the time in the world to properly measure out ingredients without worrying someone will fill up on veggie straws in the meantime. But the silver lining in it all is I had some more time to figure out the fun stuff, like snacks I can make for the kids since snack time is their favorite meal time, duh.<p>I made this unicorn bark without using any food coloring, just fruits. It was easy and fun -- except for the whole waiting-for-it-to-freeze part, which my six year old let me know was ruining his afternoon.<p>You'll need:<p>Yogurt (I used Stonyfield's organic vanilla yogurt)<br>Fruit (I did blueberries for the purple, strawberries for the pink and peaches for the orange)<br>Sprinkles for the topping (well, you don't <i>need</i> this, but I kind of think sparkles and glitter when it comes to unicorns)<p>I colored the yogurt by adding 2/3c of yogurt along with the fruit in the food processor. 2/3c yogurt + 1 handful blueberries, puree, pour into a bowl. 2/3c yogurt + 1 handful strawberries, puree, pour into a bowl, and so on. I added fruit until I got my desired shade of colors.<p>Add each color yogurt one heaping spoonful at a time onto a cookie tin lined with parchment paper. Don't forget to add some plain vanilla yogurt for the white! Once your colors have all been added, use a knife or a toothpick to pull the colors together and marble them, a little.<p>Add your sprinkles on top! If you want.<p>Cover the tray in plastic wrap and pop it into the freezer for a while. Ours took about 40 minutes to get fully frozen. Once frozen, break the bark into serving-size pieces.
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<img alt=" photo signature_zps5tftxxmn.png" border="0" src="http://i1212.photobucket.com/albums/cc454/pianoprincessdesigns/signature_zps5tftxxmn.png~original" />Lindsayhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/18101932639543215210noreply@blogger.com6tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8604215857942241756.post-61983594807384956252017-09-01T21:40:00.001-04:002017-09-01T21:40:37.362-04:00transitions.I created this blog the month we decided to try to have our first child. My first entry came shortly thereafter, when I learned I was pregnant. That was how life worked then: obnoxiously according to plan. There was nothing I couldn't plan and nothing I didn't know about pregnancy and childbirth. Of course, life happened and our little world and family spun a bit off course (to put it a little softer, anyway). I stopped being able to plan for anything at all and now, six years into this blog, that kid who began as a couple pink lines on a test is now an elementary school student.<p>Like most things in my Life As I Now Know It, I worried about elementary school for a myriad of reasons. There were the articles shared like wildfire on social media about the horror of school, of course, but there was also the fact that this sweet little precious baby was <i>my baby</i> and how am I supposed to bottle up six years worth of bonding and memories and fun and pass him off into the next phase? How, life? How?! Despite digging my heels, this one had an easy answer: because he wanted to go, and I had to follow him. Kindergarten came and in walked Ethan to a beautiful classroom in an incredible school with a magnificent teacher and he felt at ease. He goes in with a smile and he leaves with a smile and if I'm really lucky, I get a "guess what I did today?!" the moment our eyes meet at dismissal time. And that six year old? That tall, beautiful, incredible six year old boy who I had the privilege of spending six years teaching, nurturing, caring for? He's still my baby.<p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgNLPBFxcsSZ3H3bgfl67BgJqJPqc34uUXuHg1JQxtz_DuelArsEYHMN9gDTGhRQqeFm1uUNlhcdQBTxOZUykFCLmOCPcRAK44ttLM5DN3Eo-AtOxNFGhP8d41sMhjpZAnFOPyArPWF8P4/s1600/kindergartenpost.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgNLPBFxcsSZ3H3bgfl67BgJqJPqc34uUXuHg1JQxtz_DuelArsEYHMN9gDTGhRQqeFm1uUNlhcdQBTxOZUykFCLmOCPcRAK44ttLM5DN3Eo-AtOxNFGhP8d41sMhjpZAnFOPyArPWF8P4/s640/kindergartenpost.jpg" width="640" height="640" data-original-width="960" data-original-height="960" /></a></div><p>Kindergarten has been a lesson, for me, in soaking in the transitional period of childhood. That scary time when your toddler-preschooler hybrid loosens your grip and slowly begins morphing into an <i>actual</i> child who isn't as reliant on you as they once were. You see, there's still so much to take in during this phase. It's not all woe and sadness and longing for the meandering afternoons of cuddles and stories you've read again and again and again (and again). At this phase, I remember his Dallas Clayton hi-top Vans and the way he still needs me to tie them for him. I remember the after-school smell of sweat and the way he asks me to add things to the grocery list all of the time now ("next time you go to the store we <i>definitely</i> need more of this peanut butter"). While I miss the nights of laying with him until he fell asleep, which ended with his sixth birthday, I don't want to cry too much and miss the way he still needs me to check on him every few minutes until sleep comes. "Come back in one minute," he will say. Or "three minutes this time." Eventually I peek in and whisper <i>I love you</i> and he is fast asleep. At this stage, he loves puns and writing stories and asking questions that make you feel as if you're part of an interview of some kind ("what is the second best day of your life?" "Which do you like better, The Lumineers or Iron and Wine?").<p>Parents of older children are always assuring me that each stage is priceless. As each stage comes to an end, it seems so hard to believe that anything will be as precious and sacred as the phase we are about to leave behind. But that's the thing with children: they are made of magic, and every phase simply fades into a new one just as beautiful as the one that preceded it.<p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhAauAFnantIPVKQFxUdwKgihUW5KbRNy5WQMlsVVmPUocsjWxdSIQOujeRDw6UtbdJLwhuCmZ3k-ve7YDaNLtrxuHJjdD0tUeU6JDJq4yHD-vWvINjHCfiU1GXnZ5wwxr1iPILnGDtDa8/s1600/muffinbabies.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhAauAFnantIPVKQFxUdwKgihUW5KbRNy5WQMlsVVmPUocsjWxdSIQOujeRDw6UtbdJLwhuCmZ3k-ve7YDaNLtrxuHJjdD0tUeU6JDJq4yHD-vWvINjHCfiU1GXnZ5wwxr1iPILnGDtDa8/s640/muffinbabies.jpg" width="640" height="366" data-original-width="960" data-original-height="549" /></a></div>
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<img alt=" photo signature_zps5tftxxmn.png" border="0" src="http://i1212.photobucket.com/albums/cc454/pianoprincessdesigns/signature_zps5tftxxmn.png~original" />Lindsayhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/18101932639543215210noreply@blogger.com9tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8604215857942241756.post-59236130275958151542017-08-21T11:22:00.001-04:002017-08-21T11:22:12.970-04:00starting overToday my oldest child started Kindergarten -- but I can't even talk about that yet. I'm still trying to keep my mind focused on how adorable he looked at his table, nametag around his neck, coloring pumpkins with the fresh crayons tucked inside his little pencil case. The thoughts of him eating lunch in a big cafeteria or walking to and from specials inside a big elementary school are too scary, so I'm trying to keep them at bay. Anyway, like I was saying. Today my oldest child started Kindergarten. I swear he was born yesterday, but in actuality he is six years old. He has two adult teeth already and he asks for privacy in the bathroom and he can read third grade level chapter books on his own, but he still climbs into my lap when he needs to feel safe and he still needs me to kiss his boo-boos when he hurts himself and in so many ways, he is still my little baby. Of course, I also have an actual baby who is still getting in her first teeth and learning the ropes of the world, like not to pick things up off the floor and stick them into your mouth. She still requires a nap on most days and still falls if she walks too quickly and she's still learning to communicate using words. After school drop off this morning, I took my baby to the mall to walk the interior perimeter as I used to do when her big brother was an infant and I didn't know anybody. It was exercise and it was air-conditioned and no one would talk to me, because I was one "hello, how are you?" away from losing my mind. (Kindergarten hurts, guys. It just does.)<p>Sometimes people say that I'm starting over. That Ethan goes off to school and instead of truly moving myself into this next phase of life, I instead move myself right back to square one. Diapers and feeding schedules and all of the chaos that accompanies a baby-baby, not just a Kindergarten-baby. Is it hard to move back to packing diaper bags and packing snacks and making sure the minivan is equipped with a baby carrier or stroller at all times? Is it hard to give up spontaneity for a nap? Well, yes. But harder yet is the thought of not having it at all. Any of it.<p>There was a great deal of time when I thought that I would never get to hold a baby of my own again. There was a large chunk of time when I thought that the two children I would have to parent would be my living one and my dead one; parenting one with attention and affection, and the other with memory and heartbreak. While my days of belly bumpdates and fetus-to-fruit comparisons died with Wylie, I would in fact get to be a parent again. It would take fight and grit and strength that I dug out of my brokenness, but it would happen nonetheless. Holding my daughter in my arms for the first time was magic, but seeing Ethan smile as he held her in his arms for the first time was vindication. It was joy again, rising up from the dead and pressing the resume button on a life that felt painfully paused. I am grateful for every minute of it. I'm grateful that I showed up to Kindergarten drop-off with a stroller in tow and smashed-up sandwich on my shirt. I'm grateful that I am waiting out naptime writing this, a load of wash in the washing machine and tonight's dinner already in the oven, and when I press publish I will return to creating tot school curriculum just like I used to do during naptimes five years ago. I'm grateful for all of it because it's real life and messiness and goodness and stepping-on-yucky-fruit after feeling so numb for so long.<p>I couldn't imagine starting over, either. I couldn't imagine dusting myself off and starting over in an entirely different life than the one I thought I knew for 30 years. But thankfully I don't have to. I just got to press play after a little pause.
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<img alt=" photo signature_zps5tftxxmn.png" border="0" src="http://i1212.photobucket.com/albums/cc454/pianoprincessdesigns/signature_zps5tftxxmn.png~original" />Lindsayhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/18101932639543215210noreply@blogger.com333tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8604215857942241756.post-31343524369322574632017-08-14T12:29:00.000-04:002017-08-14T12:29:56.301-04:00independenceIn the six years I've been a parent, I've always believed in following the child. Attachment is often frowned upon, although in six years I've grown used to people's eyerolls when I say Ethan hasn't been left with a sitter or that I still lay with him until he falls asleep at night. I'm used to the way people like to lecture me that I coddle him or spoil him and need to "cut the cord." I've always believed that he would tell me when he was ready to seek out a little more independence and that's been true, as he always has. Still, independence burns at my heart despite me knowing it's on his terms and happening naturally (and confidently) thanks to our attached bond.<p>I remember the exhausting days when he refused to detach himself from my leg or wouldn't so much as look at other children who approached him on the playground. I blinked and he became the child surrounded by a crowd of eight other children on the school playground, holding hands and laughing and immersed in a game that they created together. Before bedtime, we talk about things that made us proud or made our hearts feel good (and sad, and mad, and all the other range of emotions one can feel in a day). The other night, he remarked that he felt "proud to be Ethan" and everything in me was overcome with peace. I remember just a few short months ago when he would lament how he was terrified no one would like him or would hide the silly riddles and big thoughts that his mind would think up. Now he runs up to children at the park and asks them if they want to hear a joke and, despite stumbling over the punchline, laughs through the entire delivery. The tremendous growth and the strides he has made in finding himself have made me feel peaceful and proud and have also made me realize the intricacy of motherhood at a level I hadn't before.<p>But it also hurts. Because this weekend, he went into the kitchen and made both of us lunch. He carried the clothing from the dryer to the couch and "folded" the towels before putting them into the linen closet. He asked for privacy as he washed up before bed and reemerged in his pajamas without even needing me to lay them out for him onto the bed. He turned down a trip to the museum on the start of his last week of summer to instead spend a day at his gym camp.<p>And these are good things. They are wonderful things because he has found his confidence and himself and he is growing! He is thriving! He is becoming the child he is meant to be at his own pace. He is excited for the future and letting me know that he is ready for more independence now, at age six. These are wonderful things! And they are the outcome I hoped for when I first cradled his newborn body in my arms and promised him I'd always be here, that I'd always be by his side, that we would nurture attachment and my job as his mother would be to follow his lead. But they still hurt because in all the ways he is ready, I am not ready.<p>I am not ready to drop my oldest child at Kindergarten despite the fact he is eager to see his classroom and meet his classmates, who he refers to as "my new friends." I am not ready to kiss him goodbye and watch him, backpack strapped to his back, walk into a classroom in elementary school. But he is, which he lets me know each day, multiple times a day, as he opens his organizer bins and double (triple, quadruple) checks that he has socks or clean underwear ready to go for his carefully planned out first day outfit. I am not ready for him to turn 7, or 8, or 17 and drive a car or have his heart broken or any of the other milestones that are to come. But I was not ready for him to turn 2, or 3, or 6, and still he does and still I follow him, letting him know I'm here as he should need me. Because that's my job, in all of its glory and sadness, and there is no better job in the world than to be his mommy.
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<img alt=" photo signature_zps5tftxxmn.png" border="0" src="http://i1212.photobucket.com/albums/cc454/pianoprincessdesigns/signature_zps5tftxxmn.png~original" />Lindsayhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/18101932639543215210noreply@blogger.com409tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8604215857942241756.post-4497001067738408472017-08-12T22:57:00.000-04:002017-08-12T22:57:12.332-04:00almost but not quite yet kindergartenEvery so often, I make a promise to myself to write more. I don't feel quite like myself in times when I don't write, but it gets complicated. Sometimes it's weird knowing my words are read by people I actually have to see in every day life (and when they don't like what I say, I get the awkward grocery store cold shoulder) -- or by people whose children my kids have a desire to play with. As Ethan gets older, I have to protect his privacy more than in the good old days of his tot schooling and potty training when his milestones were cute and universally understood by new parents everywhere. He is my number one support system when it comes to writing ("you should write books about Carmen and I, mommy") but he's also six. Still, writing gives me this feeling of peace that is unattainable anywhere else. I joined a boot camp, I've been slowly committing to decorating rooms in my house and staying on top of my laundry, but nothing compares to putting words and feelings down. There are just so many big feelings here, dying to come out.<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgyL22xIxDIRrJp_KYOS6bpFUo6ud_eLKzNurWsTiOIWPlsnFu6JS3arFDR-WJbtRcXP-w17X4o7Pv-AMASbrxTZ3-BrU_1XtV9f1RJTT8zR0ypj43QSp5A6Idp2kT_6oPXpPyRblRftrk/s1600/yellow11.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgyL22xIxDIRrJp_KYOS6bpFUo6ud_eLKzNurWsTiOIWPlsnFu6JS3arFDR-WJbtRcXP-w17X4o7Pv-AMASbrxTZ3-BrU_1XtV9f1RJTT8zR0ypj43QSp5A6Idp2kT_6oPXpPyRblRftrk/s640/yellow11.jpg" width="640" height="640" data-original-width="960" data-original-height="960" /></a></div><p>Summer is basically over. I'm taking this extra hard because Ethan starts Kindergarten soon and I'm pretty lousy at changes in routine. I bought Carmen a shirt that says "say yes to new adventures" and cursed myself out under my breath as I tossed it in the cart because hello, I'm a hypocrite. New adventures are terrifying and scary and should be avoided at all costs by embracing <i>sameness</i> and hiding under the covers to avoid reality. Just me? Ethan is pretty stoked about Kindergarten and doesn't really seem nervous whereas I wake up at three in the morning having panic attacks about having to send my precious baby to a gigantic, actual elementary school. There are things that I don't like to admit to myself, and one of those is that unlike me, Ethan loves the idea of a class and being a part of a team. He's also pretty good about giving things an honest try, which is a quality I severely lack. So far his only apprehension has been that PE is a part of the curriculum (see? He is my child!) but he's even accepted that he may enjoy it after all.<p>Today, I cleaned out the drawers in a filing cabinet that has been stuck in a corner of our tot school classroom since we began, when Ethan was just 16 months old. I spent an hour bawling my eyes out as I combed through the artwork and projects that we had spent five years making. Ethan loved sitting with me and going through his old drawings and projects but "I'm not sure what you're crying about, mommy. I'll still make art at Kindergarten and when I get home, too." I try to explain to him the depths of a mother's love and pride and the bittersweet feeling that is a child growing up and becoming more independent, but he's six and so he doesn't understand. He hugs me and assures me that if I want to make him lessons and trays, he will humor me and do them so I don't have to cry.<p>I'm a little bit of a mess. That's nothing new. Time hasn't really made me bolder but regardless, children get older and I'm doing my best to put on a brave face and be convincing in my cheering from the sidelines.
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<img alt=" photo signature_zps5tftxxmn.png" border="0" src="http://i1212.photobucket.com/albums/cc454/pianoprincessdesigns/signature_zps5tftxxmn.png~original" />Lindsayhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/18101932639543215210noreply@blogger.com503tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8604215857942241756.post-42655908107815557182017-07-24T13:14:00.000-04:002017-07-24T13:14:18.280-04:00whiskball.It's 5:03 a.m. and Carmen is barreling down the hallway holding a metal whisk in one hand and a plush baseball in the other. "Bruh bruh! Bruh bruh!" All the white noise machines in the world won't be able to stop her shrieks from waking up her brother, but still I try. "He's still asleep. He has to get some sleep, he has camp today." I redirect her to the living room. To the doll house. To the play kitchen. To her bedroom. To a pantry full of crackers and a refrigerator full of cheese and anything else she wants, <i>oh my god, just take anything</i>, as long as I can get five minutes to put on my pants and let Ethan sleep until at least 7. But she won't put down the whisk or the baseball. Not for anything will she put down the whisk or the baseball or give up her determined trek to the end of the hallway where her big brother (somehow) sleeps with the quiet humming of his white noise machine permeating from underneath the closed door.<p>Last week, Ethan invented a game called whisk ball where Carmen pitches him the ball and he whacks it with a whisk. The rules are still quite unclear, but they both run the bases (mulch, leaves and twigs found in our front yard) around the driveway together and then start again. Every evening in the lull after dinner and before bathtime, Ethan grabs the whisk and the ball and Carmen is right there at his feet eager to play. It's a little like magic, in those moments, even though the <i>tired</i> is usually burning at my eyes. Sometimes it still feels surreal to look up from where I'm sitting on the front doorstep and see these two playing their beloved game together, the laughter, the "I love you's," the nicknames. It's become normal, by now, the two of them and the chasing and the feeding and the chauffering and the classes and the naptime and the schedules. The newness has worn off and every day life becomes just that: every day life. At 5:03 a.m., as I'm chasing a wide-awake toddler down a hallway as she clutches a whisk and a baseball, it's hard to feel the magic over the exhaustion. <p>We made it to 6:50 a.m. without waking up Ethan, but soon he rolls out of his room with bedhead and a yawn. "Why is Carmen yelling?" He sits on the hall floor and wipes the sleep out of his eyes. She's yelling because she loves you, I think. She's yelling because she loves you so much and because her heart is so happy when she's with you and because she so very much cherishes the memories you make together. It's in the middle of these thoughts that I am able to feel the magic. These two. Despite the exhaustion and need for Starbucks and inability to find two minutes to put on a clean shirt, despite all of it, this is my greatest dream come true <i>over and over and over again</i>. Each time the whisk hits the baseball and two children collapse on the driveway in fits of laughter, it comes true again.<p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiVBgHqknvUgjZLn-bKwzoMxBthhmieN0WRevQvn2Q67mQEE7A6e_G3JmcRfCT4C4d8tRKZxm6zELu-xXEesAu-BQiEER06qTdbRYNz8g2b-fd3QBiYSu_0K1t3r1W7nLuPjbjC73Nk9WE/s1600/startingover.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiVBgHqknvUgjZLn-bKwzoMxBthhmieN0WRevQvn2Q67mQEE7A6e_G3JmcRfCT4C4d8tRKZxm6zELu-xXEesAu-BQiEER06qTdbRYNz8g2b-fd3QBiYSu_0K1t3r1W7nLuPjbjC73Nk9WE/s640/startingover.jpg" width="566" height="640" data-original-width="600" data-original-height="678" /></a></div>
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<img alt=" photo signature_zps5tftxxmn.png" border="0" src="http://i1212.photobucket.com/albums/cc454/pianoprincessdesigns/signature_zps5tftxxmn.png~original" />Lindsayhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/18101932639543215210noreply@blogger.com520tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8604215857942241756.post-37486154165352092942017-07-23T20:47:00.000-04:002017-07-23T20:47:16.850-04:00summertime<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgABWeq0ikOpyxdp7JI0Y_xi7Xt-CXQ7iKhn2o84iHNHLRxCYQ0cBsYhRq2j4gGMCUk9LoEzwX0H0ixJx_Lkdlg2C9lOwVZqrk16cXWcFQ8BrhpcJFjMnBmreKsNJ0pYtz9HZFjdDtuiik/s1600/babes.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgABWeq0ikOpyxdp7JI0Y_xi7Xt-CXQ7iKhn2o84iHNHLRxCYQ0cBsYhRq2j4gGMCUk9LoEzwX0H0ixJx_Lkdlg2C9lOwVZqrk16cXWcFQ8BrhpcJFjMnBmreKsNJ0pYtz9HZFjdDtuiik/s640/babes.jpg" width="640" height="640" data-original-width="720" data-original-height="720" /></a></div><p>
I had all of these big plans for summer. That's how it always goes, right? Places to go, things to see and all that. Ethan, on the other hand, simply wanted to attend camp at his preschool. I understood his heart, of course. He is sad to leave his preschool and summer <i>is</i> for playing with your friends, which is what he gets to do at camp. The beach is still the beach in the fall, the zoo is still the zoo, the museum passes are valid all year -- but his preschool friends? Well, in the fall they all disperse to their respective schools and for many, that means Kindergarten. Like most things, Ethan is taking this short period before Kindergarten in stride (and I am not at all, like usual). He is excited to meet his teacher and see his classroom and while he says he is a little bit nervous, I am trying to follow his lead. This is just the next phase in the adventure.<p>Sometimes I feel like my kids are this mature, wise example that I'm supposed to follow. I'm clumsy and tripping and screwing up, but they've got this <i>living</i> thing down and transition from milestone to milestone without flinching. (And I fall on my face trying to follow them.) Carmen wakes up from her afternoon naps calling "bruhhhh bruhhhh" from her crib, knowing that it's just about time to pile into the minivan and pick him up at preschool. The sunniest part of my summertime is watching her face light up when she sees him on the playground.<p>We've been making the most of this summer, despite the chaos. The hypogylcemia and the hospital stay and the flu and all of the other nonsense that decided to tag along for a little bit. Mostly it's been hot, and mostly we've been spending time together trying not to melt. With the fall will come more regularly scheduled posts, and tot school, and routine...and Kindergarten. (Remember when I created this blog the day I learned I was pregnant with Ethan? Yeah, me too.)
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<img alt=" photo signature_zps5tftxxmn.png" border="0" src="http://i1212.photobucket.com/albums/cc454/pianoprincessdesigns/signature_zps5tftxxmn.png~original" />Lindsayhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/18101932639543215210noreply@blogger.com114tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8604215857942241756.post-56092131154282733442017-06-26T12:13:00.001-04:002017-06-26T12:14:07.010-04:00turning 6 is awesome: ethan's lego themed 6th birthday party<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiacH4CsJ2VC_MUGFCcIjrHWHwYuON5v1NLCiETXvWM-OLpGaKEeY-g7PDAAm1vjQmG86UkR_Qyllk6bdpS0db6mml_vkIXg8EtRAwiqWZC5UrRhSlX4yns3ekv8nZLbrpvh0zrFaz4f2c/s1600/ethansparty8.png" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiacH4CsJ2VC_MUGFCcIjrHWHwYuON5v1NLCiETXvWM-OLpGaKEeY-g7PDAAm1vjQmG86UkR_Qyllk6bdpS0db6mml_vkIXg8EtRAwiqWZC5UrRhSlX4yns3ekv8nZLbrpvh0zrFaz4f2c/s640/ethansparty8.png" width="640" height="426" data-original-width="800" data-original-height="533" /></a></div><p>Ethan had his sixth birthday party this past weekend. He asked for a Lego theme and (because I'm his mom, duh) was very hands-on in the planning this year. This was his first year in school, and so he had so many friends to add to the guestlist. Having a summer birthday is hard because you never know if your school friends will be in touch or if they'll be traveling, but he was so excited that so many of his friends from school showed up to party. Our venue was My Gym in Coconut Creek, Florida, as it is year after year -- it's our home away from home and you can't beat a My Gym party (we love you, Mr. Lee!). Instead of the Lego-printed plates and decorations, I tried to recreate my own primary color scheme and go from there.<p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjaWf_ui0G4IEuh4So3znXlHwcg37xVePb8wEXj17dct-UyqAxWBS7IIiFSjtMcIBW3ToM2Z-_gNBhLOObiCdAyKIQcJqZ9qrEQWDQTjyDPTKVNV42kEXkh4f7J-3WS4vJm_F6tf3-T0L4/s1600/ethansparty16.png" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjaWf_ui0G4IEuh4So3znXlHwcg37xVePb8wEXj17dct-UyqAxWBS7IIiFSjtMcIBW3ToM2Z-_gNBhLOObiCdAyKIQcJqZ9qrEQWDQTjyDPTKVNV42kEXkh4f7J-3WS4vJm_F6tf3-T0L4/s640/ethansparty16.png" width="640" height="427" data-original-width="600" data-original-height="400" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh2TaBRvdADILo8K7GmZERkR1ZW_fy_Dnns_4VhexNoVWEFnH5iqekZVEB9HnDIkjJQbK5P_0GIIyEjPyLG2opgvXD1hhylGx3qtWC4CI_blkIUcPtIW9jJ6fej6t4qHfA6hifpnJydKOo/s1600/ethansparty3.png" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh2TaBRvdADILo8K7GmZERkR1ZW_fy_Dnns_4VhexNoVWEFnH5iqekZVEB9HnDIkjJQbK5P_0GIIyEjPyLG2opgvXD1hhylGx3qtWC4CI_blkIUcPtIW9jJ6fej6t4qHfA6hifpnJydKOo/s640/ethansparty3.png" width="426" height="640" data-original-width="466" data-original-height="700" /></a></div><p>My best friend's dad and my sister collaborated on these awesome wood cutouts. Ethan was so excited to have them at his party!<p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhZ4WwRsNWWeks3xs5VRDivQRq341r6XFMiLHne6I8edemneZI7s-o3eFTrJj48QvMF0zA9df2zXUX3Oi2lFrBN6hP9IFqu86TclXtaPOv0XN05yxByy_KoR2o0Bqyz_CPBtpP7P5s5WJU/s1600/ethansparty20.png" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhZ4WwRsNWWeks3xs5VRDivQRq341r6XFMiLHne6I8edemneZI7s-o3eFTrJj48QvMF0zA9df2zXUX3Oi2lFrBN6hP9IFqu86TclXtaPOv0XN05yxByy_KoR2o0Bqyz_CPBtpP7P5s5WJU/s640/ethansparty20.png" width="426" height="640" data-original-width="533" data-original-height="800" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg_19oOGwnfUGCkhiKx_nIop6ICfSI3r9_U_xDX0FnrgK_G_RlxpjUNabrygnNCD57lfoWs_EqOgHfhqmiw7Cql6cZPZsEyHmEyOn72V68myI2OD1we96uftffbLhtwXdFlWf8HVDm3h2c/s1600/ethansparty21.png" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg_19oOGwnfUGCkhiKx_nIop6ICfSI3r9_U_xDX0FnrgK_G_RlxpjUNabrygnNCD57lfoWs_EqOgHfhqmiw7Cql6cZPZsEyHmEyOn72V68myI2OD1we96uftffbLhtwXdFlWf8HVDm3h2c/s640/ethansparty21.png" width="640" height="426" data-original-width="700" data-original-height="466" /></a></div><p>The favors were primary color play-doh tubs with custom Lego mini-figure shaped cookie cutters, which I ordered from Etsy seller <a href="https://www.etsy.com/shop/CookieCutterSupply?ref=ss_profile&search_query=lego">Cookie Cutter Supply</a>. I packaged everything up in bags that I morphed into Lego bricks with the help of a craft hole punch.<p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhTndzaY5gstygfFBqNBXRpzv_Ta_8oIDTjXuGul4A6QhocUZYwhhSddw9NPpRuBMC0JFobaQlIe2yP4e4wyqfwUaNaTOxNxz5Iz_nckbT-4O7HvsNNSkXr1dCaoEGUB_tGT99oNfp5vr8/s1600/ethansparty8.png" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhTndzaY5gstygfFBqNBXRpzv_Ta_8oIDTjXuGul4A6QhocUZYwhhSddw9NPpRuBMC0JFobaQlIe2yP4e4wyqfwUaNaTOxNxz5Iz_nckbT-4O7HvsNNSkXr1dCaoEGUB_tGT99oNfp5vr8/s640/ethansparty8.png" width="640" height="426" data-original-width="800" data-original-height="533" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjDh4p8JUlnTQBAWuuYPSvBX7wwMvrq2yqZc0GwljaZn9DqvPfQvJOxFwz_W_mTEatLh_SpNU0g3TLuNRzYGYeis7iBaQYRSeN9N5dizo1xKl7oTnBHs3axljxwGCYoiJZtCcFrLeiYFE8/s1600/ethansparty9.png" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjDh4p8JUlnTQBAWuuYPSvBX7wwMvrq2yqZc0GwljaZn9DqvPfQvJOxFwz_W_mTEatLh_SpNU0g3TLuNRzYGYeis7iBaQYRSeN9N5dizo1xKl7oTnBHs3axljxwGCYoiJZtCcFrLeiYFE8/s640/ethansparty9.png" width="640" height="426" data-original-width="700" data-original-height="466" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg3FEvMAvqvN9vmSMX65OI4zGX9s20chPNt3oLXlUXuNgHVT10D4L-j0RbRFx8nS_2h_T8N0ys6NSstLGgPniRxziApmtVJAuXioTQEfbSryuE7ML8mSS-0dQvA2rTF_LnY9pjMoCHdk-Y/s1600/ethansparty10.png" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg3FEvMAvqvN9vmSMX65OI4zGX9s20chPNt3oLXlUXuNgHVT10D4L-j0RbRFx8nS_2h_T8N0ys6NSstLGgPniRxziApmtVJAuXioTQEfbSryuE7ML8mSS-0dQvA2rTF_LnY9pjMoCHdk-Y/s640/ethansparty10.png" width="640" height="426" data-original-width="700" data-original-height="466" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiUuH6jwoqhOO1OJDFfdXXKNmnG6OOFn7IuLxTGJuTHWNR_YRnGu1Ls4PSkAGzWJ-VpgWHUXumhMzSPfvEyAx_iW8JSR6wqIEFlAZZ2WqS5JX19VwgRmha_MnXh5DTzRXcQ-OlxDQjddN0/s1600/ethansparty11.png" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiUuH6jwoqhOO1OJDFfdXXKNmnG6OOFn7IuLxTGJuTHWNR_YRnGu1Ls4PSkAGzWJ-VpgWHUXumhMzSPfvEyAx_iW8JSR6wqIEFlAZZ2WqS5JX19VwgRmha_MnXh5DTzRXcQ-OlxDQjddN0/s640/ethansparty11.png" width="640" height="426" data-original-width="700" data-original-height="466" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgqfG3qOvcd153ITYLE2vXN07avjCCEQEabek9sPL6p70Q76agSZkI7eqEIuYdit5KHBl2unQYUqARNaqh2IFDLhluyjUIfvDjXNTyTULhdxYzNpCzER9CvQrA9vRdX9R9c3RNzCSeDPjM/s1600/ethansparty12.png" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgqfG3qOvcd153ITYLE2vXN07avjCCEQEabek9sPL6p70Q76agSZkI7eqEIuYdit5KHBl2unQYUqARNaqh2IFDLhluyjUIfvDjXNTyTULhdxYzNpCzER9CvQrA9vRdX9R9c3RNzCSeDPjM/s640/ethansparty12.png" width="427" height="640" data-original-width="700" data-original-height="1050" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi3LuevH7-oVm7bCpwyyflfNcQb0jBMqz0A4o90CwfjWl91n-NAiOWf5jG4lVOJ2l3Ej6eyieFyb-1mQXa-JbEAg_2Wr74jPZeoAeeIKkYuxfwU8NmOzBsj_m-HCjpgYnMrmxN11ebUPdw/s1600/ethansparty13.png" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi3LuevH7-oVm7bCpwyyflfNcQb0jBMqz0A4o90CwfjWl91n-NAiOWf5jG4lVOJ2l3Ej6eyieFyb-1mQXa-JbEAg_2Wr74jPZeoAeeIKkYuxfwU8NmOzBsj_m-HCjpgYnMrmxN11ebUPdw/s640/ethansparty13.png" width="640" height="426" data-original-width="700" data-original-height="466" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiMdN8jvlEFk7K2TCHGZEUs2Upon3oTL2DfP5swcLwpyBLLAKwTZReT6TD9Ha1GBE7-tVOMebHnOONeimhhv7BMzFAUObqqlR3HE5WcBJqonW6aKxCxPpU_68iq2q6XS3dzsDyhRbrTnMI/s1600/ethansparty14.png" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiMdN8jvlEFk7K2TCHGZEUs2Upon3oTL2DfP5swcLwpyBLLAKwTZReT6TD9Ha1GBE7-tVOMebHnOONeimhhv7BMzFAUObqqlR3HE5WcBJqonW6aKxCxPpU_68iq2q6XS3dzsDyhRbrTnMI/s640/ethansparty14.png" width="640" height="426" data-original-width="700" data-original-height="466" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; 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text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhSgrqNvqk6k4DRjNq7Trs-z-L0tCeeyiCkmSigj4pYcxLRA8KrdCMKhZ_kquvtkiZlivaHqfwaAbuq_GhHyET0JbbGDs2JaHwZhbZlMIN3Nr1aREOkpw8ZaLmxF7kd3RNQDBZshGN2h2A/s1600/ethansparty19.png" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhSgrqNvqk6k4DRjNq7Trs-z-L0tCeeyiCkmSigj4pYcxLRA8KrdCMKhZ_kquvtkiZlivaHqfwaAbuq_GhHyET0JbbGDs2JaHwZhbZlMIN3Nr1aREOkpw8ZaLmxF7kd3RNQDBZshGN2h2A/s640/ethansparty19.png" width="640" height="426" data-original-width="700" data-original-height="466" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhdqaxOIYzM36avxC5YKs-_xMvDZDhXOMVijRvZpGwib0rbued1actCkS83jBY9bUGChJOOHj-3Dhkrp_tHYVAzwqW7Yh6ju7TKgmwIOofizG_8OlziBDO2pl5gzaC9PZaI20yHdR_pOIU/s1600/ethansparty22.png" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhdqaxOIYzM36avxC5YKs-_xMvDZDhXOMVijRvZpGwib0rbued1actCkS83jBY9bUGChJOOHj-3Dhkrp_tHYVAzwqW7Yh6ju7TKgmwIOofizG_8OlziBDO2pl5gzaC9PZaI20yHdR_pOIU/s640/ethansparty22.png" width="426" height="640" data-original-width="466" data-original-height="700" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhvQyvx1Pto-ewNLHHll8L-gMVMVceJ_uR5PrlK3TD-duM2YUF9a1zdR1xFPYASg8m__KMS77waW86sx0vueKIr2zKed4u6XtODO2V2b-omkOXc837jVNYxgVqteyAH8FYSQvTj1OfHFjk/s1600/ethansparty23.png" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhvQyvx1Pto-ewNLHHll8L-gMVMVceJ_uR5PrlK3TD-duM2YUF9a1zdR1xFPYASg8m__KMS77waW86sx0vueKIr2zKed4u6XtODO2V2b-omkOXc837jVNYxgVqteyAH8FYSQvTj1OfHFjk/s640/ethansparty23.png" width="640" height="426" data-original-width="700" data-original-height="466" /></a></div><p>I had the banner printed on Vistaprint. The cupcake tower and the cake stand were both inexpensive Amazon purchases that I painted and decorated with Lego Duplo blocks. My sister drew the Lego faces on the two glass jars (the held hummus and ranch) that I had also painted yellow. Ethan built the napkin and silverware Duplo structures and I love that he added his own little touch to everything! For food, we had pizzas delivered but I set out an array of snacks in different primary colored bins and containers.<p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjzyceWCJjCxoO2HNkruLmydPA8QZZ4mzWZejK-YR8IApbcvwOEZUj87Y7v2QvyDlgwjKUHWh_Q0YLdW-bk4owZ6NjLYUKHGNB8wFUFT7YHRz-5pe03RjsdNSERP97EpYm4YuP9d2aBzYA/s1600/ethansparty33.png" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjzyceWCJjCxoO2HNkruLmydPA8QZZ4mzWZejK-YR8IApbcvwOEZUj87Y7v2QvyDlgwjKUHWh_Q0YLdW-bk4owZ6NjLYUKHGNB8wFUFT7YHRz-5pe03RjsdNSERP97EpYm4YuP9d2aBzYA/s640/ethansparty33.png" width="426" height="640" data-original-width="466" data-original-height="700" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiEixkBLmbvh2OTAc4inImVUoOn_odqcYUzJQUeylhJFcaNnL_qGkwJmo14LLFfiuHlkRyY79OegGaIs7-znhQCpUrsHq7nOFXwlnYpa72Mz8pT34QCcV6J6W4dOINprPrkWsx0PjXCSOA/s1600/ethansparty35.png" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiEixkBLmbvh2OTAc4inImVUoOn_odqcYUzJQUeylhJFcaNnL_qGkwJmo14LLFfiuHlkRyY79OegGaIs7-znhQCpUrsHq7nOFXwlnYpa72Mz8pT34QCcV6J6W4dOINprPrkWsx0PjXCSOA/s640/ethansparty35.png" width="426" height="640" data-original-width="466" data-original-height="700" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh4NY2S5Q_ZYdbSQdw4pFKuNTtbwDUpJ4pJj2ry7z5qC1Vnvi6n39l46FShSeCdyYvInUQZ3rDwJ_q2Db28Zgqz3FdlNC6yuHRxMbp-NFrteYUesRrdSYcdyigsZo-rfXQqVvleLfBgAAw/s1600/ethansparty92.png" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh4NY2S5Q_ZYdbSQdw4pFKuNTtbwDUpJ4pJj2ry7z5qC1Vnvi6n39l46FShSeCdyYvInUQZ3rDwJ_q2Db28Zgqz3FdlNC6yuHRxMbp-NFrteYUesRrdSYcdyigsZo-rfXQqVvleLfBgAAw/s640/ethansparty92.png" width="426" height="640" data-original-width="466" data-original-height="700" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjW1n65-1BwTAQVZHBleo-N9opSRz-JWZKpEhu4hewELHBCLMpGUwBWJYGa6wVJGooBnoMkQgAjLhYNg-59baJDofVslbS9wa8V9BG5lSb7E7pHTxcEyTGo3LNQz_VKJt81i9N4-mdDT0o/s1600/ethansparty95.png" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjW1n65-1BwTAQVZHBleo-N9opSRz-JWZKpEhu4hewELHBCLMpGUwBWJYGa6wVJGooBnoMkQgAjLhYNg-59baJDofVslbS9wa8V9BG5lSb7E7pHTxcEyTGo3LNQz_VKJt81i9N4-mdDT0o/s640/ethansparty95.png" width="640" height="426" data-original-width="700" data-original-height="466" /></a></div><p>My sister donned a Lego Ninjago costume for the first half hour or so of the party as a special gift to Ethan. All in all, it was an awesome (see what I did there?) party!
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<img alt=" photo signature_zps5tftxxmn.png" border="0" src="http://i1212.photobucket.com/albums/cc454/pianoprincessdesigns/signature_zps5tftxxmn.png~original" />Lindsayhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/18101932639543215210noreply@blogger.com21tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8604215857942241756.post-55459647845359746302017-06-23T20:37:00.001-04:002017-06-23T20:37:07.985-04:00hypoglycemia"Don't worry about the worst case scenarios."<p>I was told this four times within the first three hours we had been in the emergency room with Carmen. Machines beeped and buzzed around us, kids cried in stereo and I was holding the body of a toddler unrecognizable as my own. Carmen never stops -- "she has no chill," her big brother will say -- but in the ER, she was laying still in my arms, drifting in and out of sleep. The doctor came in to either deliver results or calm me down. She dabbled in a little of both. I quickly identified myself as the mother of a child who lost one baby already to a fatal heart defect and immediately, everyone understood that I knew that worst case scenarios can and do happen. What no one else could understand was the pit in my stomach at the prospect of it happening again.<p>Around me were mothers who listened to the doctors orders about their child's febrile seizures or stomach viruses with clarity and understanding. In my daily life, I refer to these parents as naive. Not in a bad way, either. I was naive once and I miss it all of the time, especially during those times when my child is laying across my lap hooked up to machines and tubes and catheters. I miss the ability to not panic, to stay calm, to wait to see what the doctor says in order to find a treatment plan. Instead, where my second baby should be sits my ability to replace calmness with the sight of the room in a funeral home reserved for children-sized urns and coffins. The crowded room with the gray carpet and cheery fluffy teddy bears stuck upon the shelves next to ceramic baby blocks and angel wings, a short perimeter to walk while deciding which box should house your child's remains forever. "She's going to stay in the PICU," explains the doctor but not without sitting by my feet and staring me in the eyes in hopes to zap up a little bit of the devastation I'm screaming into the room. I feel numb and cold and then the cheerful endocrinologist walks in and everyone is giving me a speech about Nick Jonas being a diabetic, too, and look at him. Look at Nick Jonas? This is the best we can do for parents who are just told their child has a 90% chance of being diabetic but the official diagnosis will come in the morning, but don't panic, because Nick Jonas.<p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhb-EfdikxC0UxqOG3gOyo3c8SYB3jrCgVkt5ivmgYe-YJ7bqXUIdbsF0R-s3ASimi2etEtPIlU4mq_EINf10YRKX2vzQ6Kr8Pn1sSl6OBFnYT8DGmDnFAQhrX-6Rahc09jTh11sJQf9U8/s1600/PreciousGirl.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhb-EfdikxC0UxqOG3gOyo3c8SYB3jrCgVkt5ivmgYe-YJ7bqXUIdbsF0R-s3ASimi2etEtPIlU4mq_EINf10YRKX2vzQ6Kr8Pn1sSl6OBFnYT8DGmDnFAQhrX-6Rahc09jTh11sJQf9U8/s640/PreciousGirl.jpg" width="480" height="640" data-original-width="720" data-original-height="960" /></a></div><p>We are admitted to the PICU and this is when Carmen comes back to life, and by two a.m. they have to close her into the PICU crib like a cage. A kind nurse with a gentle spirit rocks Carmen for me so I can pee and splash my face with water and shovel a fistful of contraband -- Pringles -- into my mouth, thanks to a friend who made sure I was equipped to adequately eat my feelings in the hospital. The morning comes and diabetes is taken off the table. Thoughts of Nick Jonas in all of his glory have been replaced by a suggestion it may be epilepsy, and I am flung into a whole new world that has no celebrity spokesperson. "They even have dogs! Kids love dogs," offers a nurse trainee and I resist the urge to throw Carmen's entire breakfast tray at her face.<p>Moments later, they are strapping electrodes on my child's head to test for epilepsy. The doctor is cold and quick and won't answer my questions. I promise myself I will eat Doritos from the vending machine later if I don't google epilepsy. "She might not die from it, you know, there are safety precautions in place," says the doctor on his way out the door. She might not die from it, I think, is the new Nick Jonas.<p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEib1ypRJdE7ubtFaf4iM8lrPnp-FpGLYruLiLCas7Ud3C8biwNIgpZ8EjpvQIb549py77ebEy5CZNldmJZQxstFtu1t93G5__qi8yDmwruVC_k8pZrpWCrcP_mLfiMqC9P5ImjAvc94suw/s1600/preciousGirl2.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEib1ypRJdE7ubtFaf4iM8lrPnp-FpGLYruLiLCas7Ud3C8biwNIgpZ8EjpvQIb549py77ebEy5CZNldmJZQxstFtu1t93G5__qi8yDmwruVC_k8pZrpWCrcP_mLfiMqC9P5ImjAvc94suw/s640/preciousGirl2.jpg" width="480" height="640" data-original-width="720" data-original-height="960" /></a></div><p>The next day they take epilepsy off the table and the cold doctor is again replaced by the cheerful endocrinologist who believes it is ketocic hypoglycemia. It ends up being a correct diagnosis. We are moved from the PICU to the regular peds floor, which means Carmen can walk the halls and play in the playroom and I can have visitors. I never want the visitors to leave. "Get some sleep," my mom would say before she left and I would resist the urge to throw myself in front of the door and beg her to not leave me. "It's my son's birthday soon," I would tell the nurses as they came in, "we have to get home." Some nights her sugars were low, but not as low as they were the morning she couldn't wake up at home, and I'm told I'm going to be shown how to test her sugars at home. I can't even put my own earrings in because I'm too squeamish, so I prematurely just cry.<p>But then the time comes when she is able to be unhooked from her IV fluids for 24 hours without it affecting her sugars. We are given a feeding schedule from a dietitian, and the endocrinologist calls us in a glucometer. I practice the finger pricks on my husband and we are sent out into the world with a list of times to test her sugars at, all night long. <i>All. Night. Long.</i><p>My husband and I haven't slept in two weeks and I think my body has just adapted to the sleeplessness. My phone alarm sounds at 2 a.m. and we roll out of bed, a routine in place, washing hands and waking up a baby that just wants to sleep. If her sugar is too low, we have the daunting task of feeding her until it rises -- yes, feeding the toddler who just wants to go back to sleep. Some nights this is easier than others. Some nights we are awake from 2 a.m. until 4 a.m. because she is just so confused as to if it's morning or not or why she's being forced to eat yogurt or drink a smoothie or juice. Once you let yourself fall back to sleep, it feels like seconds before the alarm sounds again. And repeat (and repeat and repeat).<p>She is doing well, and (not to jinx it) hasn't had an issue with low sugars for the past two days. We recheck with the endocrinologist on Monday. Life has morphed into normal, or a new version of it, one with scheduled snack breaks and blood sugar tests. I'm still trying to adapt and figure it all out, day by day, with lots and lots of coffee in hand. It's summertime, and we're soaking up the sunshine as best we can.<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhnZ9fvf-Ku2Zb6Rw2ouBEclrROtJekdQU_wNiWZO7atrWuvDK29sojOboJ4Yws9_ZEC0IiBkIYXOLTXi_1XJ49_0hVsOKbICAcD_-zBZ3pVwR0l01SkGyrpBqAhC21BfQbph4-CXyiRO4/s1600/SMART.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhnZ9fvf-Ku2Zb6Rw2ouBEclrROtJekdQU_wNiWZO7atrWuvDK29sojOboJ4Yws9_ZEC0IiBkIYXOLTXi_1XJ49_0hVsOKbICAcD_-zBZ3pVwR0l01SkGyrpBqAhC21BfQbph4-CXyiRO4/s640/SMART.jpg" width="480" height="640" data-original-width="720" data-original-height="960" /></a></div>
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<img alt=" photo signature_zps5tftxxmn.png" border="0" src="http://i1212.photobucket.com/albums/cc454/pianoprincessdesigns/signature_zps5tftxxmn.png~original" />Lindsayhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/18101932639543215210noreply@blogger.com10tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8604215857942241756.post-68141469839503026352017-05-15T11:28:00.002-04:002017-05-15T11:30:54.026-04:00mother's dayMother's Day rolled in with it's (thankfully broken) promise of all-day thunderstorms and accompanying chaos. We made it to the beach before nine o'clock in the morning, thinking we would have to beat a rainstorm that never actually ended up being more than looming black clouds on the horizon. We ventured to a beach just minutes away from where Carmen was born, and it was hard to not think of the woman who will always bear the c-section scar from the surgery that pulled my daughter from her body. I certainly couldn't answer any of the cutesy Facebook questionnaires about peeing when I sneeze or epidurals or if "daddy" was in the room during my delivery (also, no thank you on that heaping helping of heteronormativity), but none of that is what it means to be a mother. In my own heart, birth is the least of what makes someone a mother and that much is apparent in the day-to-day moments that come with mothering Carmen. Yet a little over one year ago only minutes from where Carmen splashed in the Intracoastal yesterday, another woman had only her birth to claim her motherhood.
<p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj7MsvQibaCT3CqHI80ShgWsFBqHwn1CP0yqBSP5dbyAxd5jW83cQ9Q1tEjVEgBlWfMJO1x7tRAvSk31RoY98fqB9HsO5fiOW3F9z4RHR5Kxu6puQTDpLWNjgyACne0jG-G44ottZ-5DTA/s1600/MothersDay.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj7MsvQibaCT3CqHI80ShgWsFBqHwn1CP0yqBSP5dbyAxd5jW83cQ9Q1tEjVEgBlWfMJO1x7tRAvSk31RoY98fqB9HsO5fiOW3F9z4RHR5Kxu6puQTDpLWNjgyACne0jG-G44ottZ-5DTA/s640/MothersDay.jpg" width="480" height="640" /></a></div>
Life and all of it's intricacies, all of the constant remolding we go through to be humans -- some days it's all more apparent than others. Perspective shifts and feelings that tap at your heart but for which you have no adequate words to explain to others.<p>Sometimes I pee when I sneeze, but the cause of that is not my son born via c-section as much as it wasn't my daughter born to another woman's body. It was thanks to the delivery of the child who died and was born nearly three years ago on a date that is creeping up quicker than I'm ready for. My wedding anniversary and also the day that we said goodbye to the baby who never got to come home with us. Motherhood -- it simply cannot be defined in saccharine Pinterest quotes or graphics about coffee consumption. Motherhood throbs deep inside my veins and defines who I am despite the journey that spun me around until I was too dizzy to really answer that for quite some time.<p>My babies. These babies. These beautiful, fierce world-changers with their laughter and stubbornness. I can't get enough of them. <p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgrXiebOMIu8Mi-7Q2lgPMBsYGOSrRNzHiEnuQ9azathr8Cc6ulLMENF2Irfpv9fe-h4L2aUz1MvmO3MjzM9oSTje1eckS5ubFVaPxtbtIPjvzvtK6bMeFpzN7EdoCe-6yhK4Po8pqx8Mw/s1600/MothersDay3.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgrXiebOMIu8Mi-7Q2lgPMBsYGOSrRNzHiEnuQ9azathr8Cc6ulLMENF2Irfpv9fe-h4L2aUz1MvmO3MjzM9oSTje1eckS5ubFVaPxtbtIPjvzvtK6bMeFpzN7EdoCe-6yhK4Po8pqx8Mw/s640/MothersDay3.jpg" width="640" height="480" /></a></div><p>They are joy. They are peace. They are love. They are my motherhood journey, the roots that hold me in place.
<img alt=" photo signature_zps5tftxxmn.png" border="0" src="http://i1212.photobucket.com/albums/cc454/pianoprincessdesigns/signature_zps5tftxxmn.png~original" />Lindsayhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/18101932639543215210noreply@blogger.com11tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8604215857942241756.post-78420359683092571232017-05-08T01:00:00.000-04:002017-05-07T21:25:58.305-04:00grabease: baby's first self-feeding cutlery set<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhLuhi-U8Q51Djs3vsPQGh7SqX_eDAsPgxWwc51eTBjF-zsHDH1fXxkNUy_DbM8tdbw_G-bNgNygtLaWP3QHZN0yOraVXuOlE-VlVqKeCeK5dPb04J-w_jm55xdEbRGBUO7o1ZZPAFPvAc/s1600/Grabease11.png" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhLuhi-U8Q51Djs3vsPQGh7SqX_eDAsPgxWwc51eTBjF-zsHDH1fXxkNUy_DbM8tdbw_G-bNgNygtLaWP3QHZN0yOraVXuOlE-VlVqKeCeK5dPb04J-w_jm55xdEbRGBUO7o1ZZPAFPvAc/s640/Grabease11.png" width="640" height="480" /></a></div><p>I was first introduced to <a href="https://elliandnooli.com/products/grabease">Grabease</a> when I saw these adorable self-feeding utensils for toddlers tagged in a photo on Instagram. Carmen never liked being fed and has always preferred to feed herself, but usually with her hands (or by shoveling fistfuls of food in her mouth, let's be real). Typical silverware is too large for tiny toddler hands, so I assumed I would just deal with her heaping handfuls of self-feeding and the mess that accompanies it all -- until I discovered Grabease. Grabease utensils are recommended by occupational therapists and designed to promote self-feeding in toddlers. Each set comes with both a fork and spoon, each with an ergonomically designed handle for a natural vertical grasp. As a total neurotic mom (or shameless helicopter mom, you decide), I also want to point out that I love the choke protection barriers that make it impossible for little ones to swallow or choke themselves with their Grabease utensils.<p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhb8uTViTjH7yPnqlTUgVkAABlygk8W3_ctOLhEtwJODFduemAj8JEX5RsZQp9W_Wa8WPPZGSrLl7AV3lk7_NA3zB9e8tls9Jzy8eaVfB2DIm1zs5ghdsyx3yJd-3v-mwEUuSY1koJ8mKQ/s1600/Grabease3.png" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhb8uTViTjH7yPnqlTUgVkAABlygk8W3_ctOLhEtwJODFduemAj8JEX5RsZQp9W_Wa8WPPZGSrLl7AV3lk7_NA3zB9e8tls9Jzy8eaVfB2DIm1zs5ghdsyx3yJd-3v-mwEUuSY1koJ8mKQ/s640/Grabease3.png" width="480" height="640" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEig7xTHdG5v9187mF4uPEDBJd52Bj15AuhjYb2ow0uGcDJmt5cPKMYxDVX5PmvKFUkfYyRbON-mt1z-4C-msL8vvXTeTK7hssuK5s_kOJfbZYKjk6ZtdEx7pLbXd5ylOwioShCYzc0FG50/s1600/Grabease4.png" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEig7xTHdG5v9187mF4uPEDBJd52Bj15AuhjYb2ow0uGcDJmt5cPKMYxDVX5PmvKFUkfYyRbON-mt1z-4C-msL8vvXTeTK7hssuK5s_kOJfbZYKjk6ZtdEx7pLbXd5ylOwioShCYzc0FG50/s640/Grabease4.png" width="480" height="640" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjqo73mHs3dyvSMx1HZ1I42WRz4v_8aV5Hpn8qaxbpk99rbJa46oXGcr4JSb6qo2u-ZwTPq857mf4sjR_4NpPVyXnGJaU00uXc9O5azH_GU4LRIXZp8qOi8JWpdPQGXVONRUwovH6bcsKc/s1600/Grabease5.png" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjqo73mHs3dyvSMx1HZ1I42WRz4v_8aV5Hpn8qaxbpk99rbJa46oXGcr4JSb6qo2u-ZwTPq857mf4sjR_4NpPVyXnGJaU00uXc9O5azH_GU4LRIXZp8qOi8JWpdPQGXVONRUwovH6bcsKc/s640/Grabease5.png" width="480" height="640" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiF68KvGPUp4g6xcZfbtnLqFwhWo-ht8_Wjb6KcMZP5AEQPObq2VH0g1ihG_gQXSFuDySCBSqH1vPfSI-YaFKZ_yBRqRpCWzTK5V7_RoAV9j3hqlVfCL45hRNSzqX_QlzwhllyLlMsFaW8/s1600/Grabease6.png" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiF68KvGPUp4g6xcZfbtnLqFwhWo-ht8_Wjb6KcMZP5AEQPObq2VH0g1ihG_gQXSFuDySCBSqH1vPfSI-YaFKZ_yBRqRpCWzTK5V7_RoAV9j3hqlVfCL45hRNSzqX_QlzwhllyLlMsFaW8/s640/Grabease6.png" width="480" height="640" /></a></div><p>From the first moment I presented her with the Grabease, Carmen seemed to know just what to do. Lately, Carmen is at that stage where she mimics what she sees us do and that includes use utensils to eat. At first she was a little frustrated that she could not get the food onto the Grabease fork, but after a few tries, Miss Independent was totally getting it. It was really cool for me as a parent to watch her successfully feed herself dinner with her own utensils!<p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEifTriltEvkCUys83C4qrgUufOobnPUAvs9B-8P05GOlk0VjZR4rkPwae-tnCcpMHBbefXTkL7SJ5wrzN7gAzpZb7m_OlH8H2tzvSOhVK05mgLiFed0TTWkESYs9xJVPcAwByv_YW0ziHs/s1600/Grabease8.png" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEifTriltEvkCUys83C4qrgUufOobnPUAvs9B-8P05GOlk0VjZR4rkPwae-tnCcpMHBbefXTkL7SJ5wrzN7gAzpZb7m_OlH8H2tzvSOhVK05mgLiFed0TTWkESYs9xJVPcAwByv_YW0ziHs/s640/Grabease8.png" width="480" height="640" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjkd9vhfzsRZkiwhIgVf0cc2W38GsWwmcKPi1g1uPun-8ytjGGPRCL1K_nM6GOWmQxlGTRUGLfZCWk5IXKDTGUbFbfA48xr_6lSkKcHdkrR144PSHMVWL0hlvrv6Zz5Vrjm1aLs1SPxDQo/s1600/Grabease9.png" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjkd9vhfzsRZkiwhIgVf0cc2W38GsWwmcKPi1g1uPun-8ytjGGPRCL1K_nM6GOWmQxlGTRUGLfZCWk5IXKDTGUbFbfA48xr_6lSkKcHdkrR144PSHMVWL0hlvrv6Zz5Vrjm1aLs1SPxDQo/s640/Grabease9.png" width="480" height="640" /></a></div><p>We've always had some issues with Carmen and her weight. Having been born a few weeks premature, we had a hard time getting her to cross the threshold from underweight to normal weight. Throw in the fact she is just too busy to take time to sit and eat, mealtimes were a little bit of a struggle (and a whole lot stressful). Grabease -- and the thrill of letting her independence blossom -- have totally made meal and snack times fun for Carmen. She loves learning to use her Grabease to feed herself and will polish off an entire plate of strawberry slices if I include her Grabease fork along with them. "It's exercise for her brain," as my five year old says.<p>We are loving Grabease around here -- and are really, really excited to get the opportunity to offer a super-exciting giveaway, too. 15 winners will get the chance to win their very own set of Grabease for their toddlers!<p><a class="rcptr" href="http://www.rafflecopter.com/rafl/display/20e0b41a59/" rel="nofollow" data-raflid="20e0b41a59" data-theme="classic" data-template="" id="rcwidget_tttk4n4m">a Rafflecopter giveaway</a>
<script src="https://widget-prime.rafflecopter.com/launch.js"></script>
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<img alt=" photo signature_zps5tftxxmn.png" border="0" src="http://i1212.photobucket.com/albums/cc454/pianoprincessdesigns/signature_zps5tftxxmn.png~original" />Lindsayhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/18101932639543215210noreply@blogger.com13tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8604215857942241756.post-61012151516656172512017-05-06T14:49:00.001-04:002017-05-06T14:49:58.076-04:00adoption isn't a punch line"That's it, I'm putting you up for adoption," joked the mom at the playground splash pad with her on-purpose messy ponytail to her unaware toddler, sharing a round of uproarious laughter with her friends. Just a few feet away, my two children wandered into the splash pad: my son, running in excitedly but cautiously, and my daughter, still crawling but far more adventurous and less concerned with safety. I felt my stomach tighten to the point where my knees felt weak under me, and I felt the familiar feeling of heat flush into my cheeks. I tried to discreetly stare at them, to assess the faces that looked nice enough and yet could be so unintentionally cruel. It wasn't the first time I'd heard adoption as the butt of a joke, and it sure wouldn't be the last time. "My sister doesn't look anything like the rest of us," a mom at the library joked to her friend, "so when I'm mad at her, I just tell her she's adopted."<p>I have heard people make racist jokes, likely because I'm white and they have no idea that my daughter is black, and they wrongfully assume that such jokes are funny if no one in the audience is impacted firsthand. I wholly reject that ignorant theory with everything within me. Racism, rape, misogyny -- these things aren't funny, regardless of the experiences of the person listening to your joke. The same goes for adoption. The pain and life-altering turmoil and sacrifice that my daughter's birth parents had to make aren't a punchline to some silly joke that does nothing but perpetuate the stigma that one must be defective, somehow, someway, in order to be placed for adoption. Adoptees grow up bearing the brunt of a lot of that stigma, sometimes believing themselves that they were unwanted, unloved, not good enough. Older children sometimes believe that they did something wrong, something bad, something that warranted them placement -- and I can't blame them, because these are the jokes we hear on a regular basis. The notion that an adopted child is loved less than a biological child
-- that learning of ones adoption is an insult -- has been perpetuated a thousand times over in the memes I've seen pop up on my timeline last month alone.<p>I'm not an adoptee, but I am an adoptive mother. I know that in my daughter's brief year of being a part of our family, I've gotten countless stares and inquiries over the fact she looks different from the rest us. I am sure that soon she will feel the stares herself, and internalize the comments from well-intentioned strangers who are eager to know in the inner-workings of our family dynamic. I am sure that in her quest to know herself, as all adolescents go through, she will find a more intricate path to trudge through than most. And if she had been a little older that day at the splash pad, I can only imagine the way that stranger's joke would have held onto her heart and not let go.<p>Adoptees aren't throw-away children. They aren't children who were unwanted, or unloved. I can empathize with the ache in my daughter's birth mother's heart that she will have to live with for the rest of her life, and sometimes this is what I think about when parents make jokes about placing their child for adoption over a tantrum over a cookie or broken toy. I think of the battle that my own family fought to get to the point of bringing our daughter home with us through adoption -- the pain, the tears, the moments of feeling like our lives would forever be incomplete. I think of the struggles my friend faced in multiple failed adoptions before bringing home her beautiful daughter, and the level of heartache there that most people will never be able to comprehend. I think of the infertility treatments, the needles jabbed just to the side of my belly button, and the physical pain that paled in comparison to waking up with a half-broken heart and empty arms each morning. And I think of my daughter and the other adoptees just like her -- innocent, loved beyond measure, just trying to exist in a world that turns the very essence of who they are into a joke.
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<img alt=" photo signature_zps5tftxxmn.png" border="0" src="http://i1212.photobucket.com/albums/cc454/pianoprincessdesigns/signature_zps5tftxxmn.png~original" />Lindsayhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/18101932639543215210noreply@blogger.com5