tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-41071472024-03-19T07:49:48.983-05:00Shanna's Shenanigans"We've got a diem to carpe!"Shannahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16081428553651389002noreply@blogger.comBlogger86125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4107147.post-20847545167166689932012-07-29T22:52:00.000-05:002012-07-29T22:52:34.396-05:00New Blog!Haven't posted here in, as Jordan would say in Wyomin'-ese, "a coon's age". Mostly because back in early June I started up a new blog to follow our new and exciting journey as we welcome baby #3 into our family. I chose Wordpress to host it, as it is much more user-friendly. Eventually, I would like to transition this entire blog over to that site but we shall see what comes of that!!<br />
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At any rate, I have a feeling there will still be plenty of shenanigans to follow, so if you'd like to join us, the new blog is at: <a href="http://franzenfive.wordpress.com/">http://franzenfive.wordpress.com/</a>Shannahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16081428553651389002noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4107147.post-57693248661418003262012-04-23T22:22:00.000-05:002012-04-24T09:49:58.176-05:00A Letter to My Bam Bam<table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: right;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjhEpKDiMPJlH7zrAbTtVAtvEsYW_EAFxDtywBzkbe6lWJd68M9Z0ExeBj-B3TleSzhIdx3UrYV7IdT6xVNDtfnxn03V3lftsTIS6oxFNhyWT-JbIBlqJy8Uq8pJuukD0sCAbFCdQ/s1600/IMG_5639.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><span style="font-family: inherit;"><img border="0" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjhEpKDiMPJlH7zrAbTtVAtvEsYW_EAFxDtywBzkbe6lWJd68M9Z0ExeBj-B3TleSzhIdx3UrYV7IdT6xVNDtfnxn03V3lftsTIS6oxFNhyWT-JbIBlqJy8Uq8pJuukD0sCAbFCdQ/s400/IMG_5639.JPG" width="266" /></span></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: inherit; font-size: x-small;">Who, me?</span></td></tr>
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<span style="font-family: inherit;">You weren't expected. You were absolutely without a doubt <em>wanted</em> once we knew you were on the way, but you were a huge surprise to your family. Ya still kindof are, kid.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: inherit;">At this very moment, you're lying in bed singing "We Built This City on Rock and Roll" at the top of your lungs, even though you were supposed to be asleep almost an hour ago. Your Dad is downstairs & can't hear you, and I am a complete schmuck and can't bring myself to go yell at you on your <em>birthday, </em>of all days. I'm a sucker for pretty much everything you do, son. From the instant I held your little self in my arms, I knew I'd been had. That night you were born, you came out with that scrunched up, pouty look that you still get right when you're about to cry. </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: inherit;">Ohhh, that pout. Throw that thing on top of that adorable Dudley Do-Right chin dimple and those big green eyes, and I'm a goner. You want ice cream for lunch? You got it. Wanna go play outside wearing nothing but your cowboy boots? Okey doke. Want to sleep in the dog bed? Knock yourself out, dude. I can't say no to you!</span><br />
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: inherit; font-size: x-small;">But look at this sweet pouty face, Mama....</span></td></tr>
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<span style="font-family: inherit;">Oh, and you know this darn well. You have known exactly how to pull my strings from Day 1. I remember one very late night, not all that long after you got home from the hospital. It was 4:00am, a late night following about 4 weeks of very late nights, where you were fussing, wouldn't burp after feeding, wouldn't go back to sleep on your own, and just driving your poor mother to exhaustion. After trying every trick in the book, I held you at the side of my bed as you fussed, looked you in the eye and demanded, <em>"What do you want, baby!" </em>You immediately stopped sqawking, looked me square in the eye and smiled your first, huge charming smile. I melted like butter -- you've had that same power over me from that day forth!</span><br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh01sW6yl4SsqigcEBL-pbbvZpecoRBEBXLqpLVaJN-5E8q-SIYTx-n5wJR47B4Z43rsccjgic4OuFOAF5lV6cU7exSnaGAld02voZak27VMAkskTIb8AZ2XPlE_DzWbePHS0VsTQ/s1600/IMG_5504.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><span style="font-family: inherit;"><img border="0" height="265" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh01sW6yl4SsqigcEBL-pbbvZpecoRBEBXLqpLVaJN-5E8q-SIYTx-n5wJR47B4Z43rsccjgic4OuFOAF5lV6cU7exSnaGAld02voZak27VMAkskTIb8AZ2XPlE_DzWbePHS0VsTQ/s400/IMG_5504.JPG" width="400" /></span></a></td></tr>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: inherit; font-size: small;"><span style="font-size: x-small;">Noah, the pet-whisperer. I fear they're all plotting against me</span>.</span></td></tr>
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<span style="font-family: inherit;">Mr. Noah. I can't even remember what my life was like without your hilarious and crazy little break-dancin' self. How would I know what a Euphocepalus looks like? How would I understand the importance of constant snacking? How would I know which color light saber Obi Wan uses? How would I know that "poop" can be universally used as an adjective to describe everything, ever. What on earth would I do without your bony knees jabbing me in the belly when you lumber up into our bed at 3:00 every morning, then cover my face with your smelly-ass blankie? </span><br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiH9GS0EhBxYJkda4pJIlfeNhfkAXKys3AnjWRP7RBviSY3gs0iQCmKfDKH4-8tZ-aSiNBzeQTqFg6nF3O2uYK79ccU9Dg0D6Sw2kEeZJfoFV327t_xn69Ebaya4w_N4FDTdMDRPg/s1600/IMG_4720.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="212" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiH9GS0EhBxYJkda4pJIlfeNhfkAXKys3AnjWRP7RBviSY3gs0iQCmKfDKH4-8tZ-aSiNBzeQTqFg6nF3O2uYK79ccU9Dg0D6Sw2kEeZJfoFV327t_xn69Ebaya4w_N4FDTdMDRPg/s320/IMG_4720.JPG" width="320" /></a><span style="font-family: inherit;">You keep me from ever getting "too comfortable" with parenting, but show me the value of patience and kindness at every turn. You have shown me that a little curiousity and a big imagination can get you really far in life... or at least make you <em>think </em>you've gone really far, without caring about how far you've <em>actually </em>gone. Your free spirit and fearlessness are inspiring! And you have truly taught me that one can find humor in almost everything in life. Your giggle can make the shittiest day turn all sunshine & rainbows in no time at all!</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: inherit;">The past three years have been a thrill ride with you in my life. I can't believe how quickly it's passed! The psycho-Mommy part of me wants to just steal these little moments away and keep you a baby forever. But the logical-Mommy part of me knows that you are growing up, there's nothing I can do to stop it, and I'm just gonna have to deal. I couldn't have asked for a better "surprise", Little Man. You made our family whole. </span></div>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: inherit; font-size: x-small;">Happy 3rd Birthday Dino Dude!</span></td></tr>
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<span style="font-family: inherit;"><br /></span><span style="font-family: inherit;">One night last week as we snuggled before bedtime, you brushed your chubby little hand ever-so gently across my cheek, looked adoringly into my eyes and said in the most angelic voice ever: "Mommy? You're a poopy head". Though I use lots and lots of them, there will just never be the right words to describe exactly how much I love you. So on this, the anniversary of the day you arrived on this Earth and into my life, I also say to you my dear son, "Noah? You're a poopy head." </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: inherit;">Happy Third Birthday, Noah Grey.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: inherit;">Love,</span><br />
<span style="font-family: inherit;">Mommy</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: inherit;"></span></div>Shannahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16081428553651389002noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4107147.post-4437137793463960552012-04-14T21:28:00.002-05:002012-04-14T21:41:39.932-05:00Just your average SaturdayAfter an absoutely nutty week, I was <em>really </em>hoping to have a laid-back weekend. Psssht. Fat chance.<br />
<div style="text-align: center;"><strong> </strong></div><div style="text-align: center;"><strong>MY MORNING</strong></div>Following a quick-and-not-so-thorough clean of the pigsty we call a house, I took the little dude on a 90-min power-shopping trip (remind me again why I had children whose birthdays are 10 days apart?! Holy party-planning, Batman!). Then we went over to the fields to cheer on our favorite soccer player...<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjwAUQmvb031uk4iDDLZZWLx8f4lIoX3EtOiDM3jsaEPvIzagJdZ_ElbeDWiq9QQJ2A68vUDeWEXceugu0GvLS_625nChLeGsIuTrXciCyNKFn1SDjCuOiDTMleJYDZ-cR2CdTTWg/s1600/IMG_6221.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="424" nda="true" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjwAUQmvb031uk4iDDLZZWLx8f4lIoX3EtOiDM3jsaEPvIzagJdZ_ElbeDWiq9QQJ2A68vUDeWEXceugu0GvLS_625nChLeGsIuTrXciCyNKFn1SDjCuOiDTMleJYDZ-cR2CdTTWg/s640/IMG_6221.JPG" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Our little star forward had a great 1st game of the season -- scored two goals! Plus she met a bunch of new friends and did a great job of cheering her team on. We had a beautiful day for a game too!</td></tr>
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<div style="text-align: center;"><strong>MY AFTERNOON...</strong></div><div style="text-align: left;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: left;">My saintly husband helped me spend our <em>entire </em>afternoon on a "little" project (the kiddos' birthday present!):</div><br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi7O79ES0WijpglVVsuvZYqYJEwqOT1Eoi3HHqkGbPDrPDalW9XUdZRPINyJ8SBYJKJuO1pQd-neZrAHCAuTJiaQ4j5Zxkh-LTftFQjdwlIuK_M5zV6Hc7nbShloAQj-mH3vCAgyQ/s1600/IMG_6246.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="426" nda="true" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi7O79ES0WijpglVVsuvZYqYJEwqOT1Eoi3HHqkGbPDrPDalW9XUdZRPINyJ8SBYJKJuO1pQd-neZrAHCAuTJiaQ4j5Zxkh-LTftFQjdwlIuK_M5zV6Hc7nbShloAQj-mH3vCAgyQ/s640/IMG_6246.JPG" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">This was my incredible-bargain-impulse-purchase: $100 discount because of a "broken door" which had been repaired by the store (not clear where / if it was even broken!) There was not a single thing wrong with it otherwise, other than seemingly the assembly instructions were compsed in Bosnian. The grownups are exahusted, sunburnt, and ready to let the chlidren go LIVE there after all the blood, sweat, and swear words we put into that thing! But it's SUPER cute, and the kids are loving their new little house! So I'm pretty proud of my deal-hunting self right now.</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhH2A667v1QCg2mAwoj8hX8hbzr_RNg1n8MRrdImnuCCrAVpQ7DVpXlIyMJT8C0iEpE1kLwiBvAxWuMugLb9WiosKBRGczVfwIkehDOXXodaImSp_1P-MahUp5TZtD-MimJ1ZXQhA/s1600/IMG_6250.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="426" nda="true" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhH2A667v1QCg2mAwoj8hX8hbzr_RNg1n8MRrdImnuCCrAVpQ7DVpXlIyMJT8C0iEpE1kLwiBvAxWuMugLb9WiosKBRGczVfwIkehDOXXodaImSp_1P-MahUp5TZtD-MimJ1ZXQhA/s640/IMG_6250.JPG" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">2 very dirty and played-out kiddos, hangin' out in their new digs. They patiently played outside for almost 4 whole hours while we put this badboy together! They're already making plans for all the "stuff" they're going to bring out there.</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><strong>MY EVENING...</strong><br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjqYyl4p6CQysH3co9Gb9R3PceL9rJ2y2X2oGbrSsmTxmuK6i79AyGyQbBHmNXNrW80xQ_qQmdjBh7v5I_4pyDS3SpfVpFuYAmVfBl-t2p61R61OZrK2VYMCu9bX90anFHl9c3ubQ/s1600/IMG_6253.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="640" nda="true" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjqYyl4p6CQysH3co9Gb9R3PceL9rJ2y2X2oGbrSsmTxmuK6i79AyGyQbBHmNXNrW80xQ_qQmdjBh7v5I_4pyDS3SpfVpFuYAmVfBl-t2p61R61OZrK2VYMCu9bX90anFHl9c3ubQ/s640/IMG_6253.JPG" width="426" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Aahhhhhhh... That hits the spot! Note my fine china... heck no, I'm not doing dishes!!</td></tr>
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<div style="text-align: left;">All in all, not a bad day. Nighty-night!</div>Shannahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16081428553651389002noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4107147.post-52197001275060637832012-03-17T23:57:00.004-05:002012-03-19T08:45:45.814-05:00Grandpa and the Inappropriate SnowmanGrandma & Grandpa came to visit last weekend. The weather was just starting to turn nice, so G & G took the kiddos outside to let them run off a little of that pent-up excess energy they've been storing up all these long winter months. We hardly had enough snow this winter to do any building with, so what better activity on a warmish spring day, (following a snowstorm that dumped 12" of snow) than to build a snowman!?! <br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj3_pMceJ35l5KoAODKyFvkR5Ul-eqRFFmLYPH56dTZ01G_8t1sfMSVXAmq3XCR4trAjtGNDtLE1zfzJ8I3z8WQ7frmpt1HC9gNu2u2ylt5fz7mB7DgM86H3KeuNzhM6BmeN3xk6Q/s1600/IMG_6043.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img aea="true" border="0" height="266" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj3_pMceJ35l5KoAODKyFvkR5Ul-eqRFFmLYPH56dTZ01G_8t1sfMSVXAmq3XCR4trAjtGNDtLE1zfzJ8I3z8WQ7frmpt1HC9gNu2u2ylt5fz7mB7DgM86H3KeuNzhM6BmeN3xk6Q/s400/IMG_6043.JPG" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Posing with their work of art</td></tr>
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</div><div>But this was not just <em>any </em>snowman. Nope, this was a Chuck Christman special. </div>It was a sno<em>woman. </em>And she had a snow rack. Yes, ladies and gentlemen: snowboobs.<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhnpAvd0cqQLKTn3TlcUyHkLzqclElT1wnzEQzEy2ldn06pRXlshb-5ozdHabNkcSpeYN5lFs6KkOA2n1cfywl6DpmfIJknwDrAfz0UO2VkJyCqcUKbcf_RVvNZ-emgie8V8AUSWQ/s1600/IMG_6052.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img aea="true" border="0" height="266" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhnpAvd0cqQLKTn3TlcUyHkLzqclElT1wnzEQzEy2ldn06pRXlshb-5ozdHabNkcSpeYN5lFs6KkOA2n1cfywl6DpmfIJknwDrAfz0UO2VkJyCqcUKbcf_RVvNZ-emgie8V8AUSWQ/s400/IMG_6052.JPG" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Really, children?! Those are NOT sno-cones.</td></tr>
</tbody></table>I guess it had slipped my mind that this was his "signature" move. I used to find it absolutely hysterical as a kid when Dad would help us roll up a snow mistress and slap a couple snowballs on her for good measure. We'd giggle as we watched Mom pull in to the yard and notice our snowperson... wearing a handkerchief for a bikini and sporting a jaunty hat. She'd scold us, but I'm pretty sure Dad was the one who would get an earful for his part in the shenanigans. For some reason, now that <em>I'm </em>the mom, it's not nearly as hilarious. But they all had a blast, and that's what counts. I doubt the kids will soon forget this adventure!<br />
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And apparently, Ms. Snowlady is a smoker too. Classy, Gramps. <br />
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I heard that at one point there was a request made by the youngest contributor to the snow sculpture: to use dog turds as the eyes, nose & mouth. Thankfully, Grandma intervened, and they opted instead for some lava rocks from the rock bed...<br />
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">It's like having a Vegas showgirl right in the backyard.</td></tr>
</tbody></table>Ah, but alas, the lovely Ms.Snowlady perished in the warm Dakota sun. 2 days after she was created, she met her untimely demise: all that remained was a pile of lava rocks and her 'cigarette butt'. <br />
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What a difference a week makes! We awoke to nearly 50-degree temps today, with a high of nearly 75... SO unusual for this time of year around here! My floppy, out-of-shape, glowing-white winter legs got a heck of a workout with all the bike rides to the park we've taken these last warm nights. We spent the majority of the day outside today, and plan to do the same tomorrow -- we'll take what we can get because you never know when it'll be snowing again.<br />
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">7 days later... perfectly comfy with no coats, and even SWEATING on this beautiful 75 degree day! In MARCH!</td></tr>
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Dare I say it? "HAPPY SPRING!!!"Shannahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16081428553651389002noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4107147.post-28239526620813386842012-02-02T07:49:00.157-06:002012-02-02T12:56:04.556-06:00Our Starlet Takes the StageIt's no secret... at least not to anyone who's checked their Facebook, Twitter, email, text messages, voicemail, standard mailbox, or has come within 100 yards of Grama & Grampa within the past couple weeks... that The Princess made her debut in her first stage production this past Saturday. <br />
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Perhaps the term "stage production" may be a bit overboard, but it was actually a very well done little show! The team of 2 actor/directors from Missoula Children's Theater arrived Monday afternoon at the school to audition the kiddos, selected their cast (of Elementary-aged kids, mind you!), then immediately started rehearsing. By Saturday morning they had an amazingly well-oiled machine and all 60-some kiddos hit the stage for 2 really fun & entertaining performances of "Red Riding Hood". <br />
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If you can't tell, we were just a smidge excited about this whole thing. Mommy & Daddy, being the big fat nerd-o super theater geeks we are, could barely contain our pride when she landed the role of... Raccoon #6.<br />
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Yep. Stardom is her destiny.<br />
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Anyone who's ever met Asha can attest to the fact that she was born ready to be a drama queen. Like a reeeal big one. With a huge imagination, a love of playing dress-up, propensity to randomly burst into song/rhyme, and the vocabulary of your average English Literature doctoral candidate. Reality generally tends to elude her. So we figured she'd be pretty comfortable up there on that stage, pretending.<br />
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She sang, she danced, she looked like a deer in the headlights. (Err... raccoon in the headlights?)<br />
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</div>Once onstage, she was so stoic, subdued, & mature, I barely recognized my own offspring (maybe that was just the mask?!) She didn't forget one single line and appeared confident in the choreography and song lyrics: but nothing more, nothing less, than EXACTLY what she was told to do by the director. WHAT!?! WHO ARE YOU!!!?? (*<em>what Shanna doesn't know is that we've secretly replaced her regular 5-year old with a <u>decaf</u> version*) </em>But when it came time to shake her little booty-tail in the raccoon dance... now, <em>that</em> was epic. This was where that giant twinkly-eyed smile spread across her face and her inner bustamove really shined through! She <em>sold it. </em><br />
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Ta-daaaa! Those costumes were absolutely darling!</td></tr>
</tbody></table>Have I mentioned the child also excels at bossing? She's a real pro. Note the kid to the left of her... y'know, the only one <em>not</em> wearing his raccoon mask during photo call? He seemed to have some, uhh, 'distraction issues' onstage. Like every time they were supposed to move somewhere, he was too busy spinning in circles, staring directly into the spotlights, or deeply fascinated by his neighbor's shoes to pay attention to what's next. So Ash apparently took it upon herself to be his "wrangler". For example, when it came time for the line of little Raccoons to exit stage right, she'd grab his shoulders, turn him about-face and literally push him forward offstage. She didn't utter a word, but shot him that face which I know to mean, "Son, you best quit screwin' around and get your little raccoon @#& moving along."<br />
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">The little Raccoons (K-1), she is 3rd from left in the back row</td></tr>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Robin Hood (Center, in green) was probably my favorite child-actor ever. Casting perfection!!</td></tr>
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Bam Bam attended the early performance, sat still and <em>silent</em> (I know, right?!), fascinated by the whole deal. I should say, silent UNTIL... the moment big sister came on stage, when he'd point out: "There's Asha! Right there! She has zebra shoes! I see her! DO YOU SEE HER!!!!???" I feel we may have another little theater geek on our hands with him too, as he has been singing Red Riding Hood songs all week, after only watching one performance! The whole production was an excellent learning experience for Asha, and a fantastic source of enjoyment for our whole family!<br />
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">The whole cast of Red Riding Hood</td></tr>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Her buddy Nolan (and his wonderful Mama!) surprised both Asha & myself by making an appearance at the afternoon showing. He brought her flowers...how sweet is that?! I may be biased but I think these might just be the two cutest 5-year olds on Earth! He looks terrified of her... haha!</td></tr>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">The best "Nanny" on earth</td></tr>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Her two biggest fans posing with the star following curtain call. Papa even got an autograph! They made a biiiiig detour from their vacation to come all the way up here to see the show, but something tells me that even the 4 Horsemen of the Apocalypse couldn't have stopped them from being here for this!!</td></tr>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">And a very proud Mommy gets a smooch from her big girl.</td></tr>
</tbody></table><div></div>And here it is... the big number. Alllll 2.5 minutes of it! ;) <br />
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<em>And don't forget to wash your hands!</em>Shannahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16081428553651389002noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4107147.post-491478369714631452012-01-25T21:03:00.003-06:002012-01-25T22:30:47.215-06:00The Bedtime Story<div style="font-family: Calibri; font-size: 11pt; margin: 0in;">I just had to share with you the monologue which my sweet princess delivered to me tonight, as she was procrastinating her task at hand:<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>bedtime.</div><br />
<div style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none; font-family: Calibri; font-size: 11pt; margin: 0in;"><div style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjS9yeMlq2mE0SKRM5YKjFAoexDGhmKUHgK3jywFXTo54VV_ssVBnyGCRSr0qz0BNPq-d9jJ8lrEJxwS8KjiVW70g0gg8Xpgf-Y2lsC0OATtrguoEAy4wb94x66G4Y4KUc0ervMLA/s1600/IMG_5690.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; cssfloat: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" gda="true" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjS9yeMlq2mE0SKRM5YKjFAoexDGhmKUHgK3jywFXTo54VV_ssVBnyGCRSr0qz0BNPq-d9jJ8lrEJxwS8KjiVW70g0gg8Xpgf-Y2lsC0OATtrguoEAy4wb94x66G4Y4KUc0ervMLA/s400/IMG_5690.JPG" width="266" /></a>There are times when I just kindof gawk at her, astonished at how much this little person who looks nothing like me can be so VERY MUCH EXACTLY LIKE ME….<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> with her ADD-induced tangeants, and yet, with her father's uncanny ability to deliver full "sermons" that no one really cares to hear. </span>She cracks me up so much.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> After she finished reading me her own bedtime story, </span>I literally could not squeeze a word in during her stream-of-consciousness rant!<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> Believe me when </span>I tell you: this is the GREATLY CONDENSED version of her 7-minute soliloquy:<br />
<br />
</div></div><div style="font-family: Calibri; font-size: 11pt; margin: 0in;"><div style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none;">"Mom, I had kindof a quiet day, because I was feeling a little sick to my tummy so I had to go lay on a mat and it had red stripes on one side and blue on the other and I picked blue because it's my favorite, well, except for pink which is <em>really</em> my favorite and then Mrs. Nelson said I had to wake up and I got a little crabby and I told Morgan to stop talking to me and she got mad at me but she never stops talking and I was feeling tired 'cuz you guys woke me up too early and I couldn't sleep last night because I was so worried about you and I am really nervous about being a Raccoon and why in the world do they say "wash your hands"? if you tried to wash a raccoon you'd get all scratched up and they'd hiss at you, also, Dad said he's gonna help with the set but then how I am gonna get home because Noah needs a nap and are you even gonna make my own costume or what and is your video camera charged because grama said to tape the show... hey, when are you gonna get my swim pass because we need to sew it on to my new swimsuit and did you order me a new bed because this one is really squeaky but then if I get a new bed can we paint my walls because I really want pink but maybe we should just paint it green and then Noah could sleep in here sometimes too are you even gonna eat tonight you should because Dad made cheesy ranch hamburger helper and it was so good Noah even ate some and didn't throw a fit and get in timeout which is good because then he got to watch a movie and he always picks how to Train Your Dragon but I don't like that one I wanted to watch Mary Poppins instead, hey, 'member when Noah used to say "Fox and the Howard" instead of Hound? He's so funny...*yaaawwn* I'm not very tired, can I stay up and read the rest of "If I Ran the Circus" because I have to take that back to school on library day which is Thursday..wait...is it Thursday yet?"</div></div><div style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none;"><br />
</div><div style="font-family: Calibri; font-size: 11pt; margin: 0in;"><div style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none;">"Nope, not yet. Go to sleep, Noodle."</div></div><div style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none;"><br />
</div><div style="font-family: Calibri; font-size: 11pt; margin: 0in;"><div style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none;">Big, sleepy, toothless grin, "But I'm not even tired Mom."</div><div style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none;"><br />
</div><div style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none;">I love that kid.</div></div>Shannahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16081428553651389002noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4107147.post-13867468501653305632012-01-04T14:05:00.001-06:002012-01-04T14:23:21.588-06:00Cuteness OverloadWe got the opportunity to spend some time this Christmas getting to know the newest member of the Franzen family, Miss Josey Dell. When we last saw her in August, Asha was a huge fan - Noah, not so much. In fact, after placing her on his lap his exact words were "I don't like her", as he hastily handed the little bundle back to her Mama (yup, he's got his father's tact). But this time around was quite different for Bam Bam -- he really took to his very smiley little cousin, and right away asked if he could hold her. The "awwwww" factor went through the roof...<br />
<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/--WHp6HpxrOg/TwN6X3_ZEFI/AAAAAAAAAwM/fmep5hXR3Ww/s1600/IMG_5376.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="266" rea="true" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/--WHp6HpxrOg/TwN6X3_ZEFI/AAAAAAAAAwM/fmep5hXR3Ww/s400/IMG_5376.JPG" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">These two could be a lot of trouble in the very near future...</td></tr>
</tbody></table>They became fast friends -- mostly because when Noah asked her "Hey Josey, do you like dragons?", she just beamed -- leading him to the conclusion of course that she does indeed like dragons.<br />
<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-LIVCQl5UP7k/TwN6tHBfC1I/AAAAAAAAAwU/TBw5JMHtnkg/s1600/IMG_5401.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="266" rea="true" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-LIVCQl5UP7k/TwN6tHBfC1I/AAAAAAAAAwU/TBw5JMHtnkg/s400/IMG_5401.JPG" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">If you thought getting <em>two </em>kids to sit still for a nice picture was tough...</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-fGyYoZbtAGk/TwN8n70RFvI/AAAAAAAAAxE/W1POSoVL-7I/s1600/IMG_5433.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="266" rea="true" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-fGyYoZbtAGk/TwN8n70RFvI/AAAAAAAAAxE/W1POSoVL-7I/s400/IMG_5433.JPG" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Auntie Shanna snuck in some snuggle time with the babes</td></tr>
</tbody></table><br />
<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-JXiS9rJBnEo/TwSmOC0mXdI/AAAAAAAAAyQ/jcvmWCnnqwQ/s1600/IMG_5485.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="266" rea="true" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-JXiS9rJBnEo/TwSmOC0mXdI/AAAAAAAAAyQ/jcvmWCnnqwQ/s400/IMG_5485.JPG" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Even Uncle Jordy stole a smooch or two on those chubby cheeks</td></tr>
</tbody></table>And these sweet blue-eyed girls -- Asha was in 7th heaven snuggling and playing with her little cousin (but who wouldn't be, how adorable is this babykins!?) Ash was quite the good little helper too, and took full advantage of every moment she was allowed to hold Josey and spoil her! <br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none; clear: both; text-align: center;"><img border="0" height="400" rea="true" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-26PB6DEfCjE/TwN7frF5QeI/AAAAAAAAAwc/-4pgSl-EjKQ/s400/IMG_5421.JPG" width="266" /><a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-Kt52CFHkHNE/TwN8X_X17lI/AAAAAAAAAw8/9mgG0qPM1og/s1600/IMG_5475.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="400" rea="true" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-Kt52CFHkHNE/TwN8X_X17lI/AAAAAAAAAw8/9mgG0qPM1og/s400/IMG_5475.JPG" width="266" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none; clear: both; text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div align="left" class="separator" style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none; clear: both; text-align: center;">I found these insanely cute Viking beanies on Etsy, and had one custom-made for each of our little Nordic babies. I should have tried to get a pic of all three of them, but well, easier said than done...</div><div align="left" class="separator" style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none; clear: both; text-align: center;"><br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-ziqH6TbV2yI/TwSmK8DWwwI/AAAAAAAAAx4/vllfQRy3Glk/s1600/IMG_5438.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="266" rea="true" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-ziqH6TbV2yI/TwSmK8DWwwI/AAAAAAAAAx4/vllfQRy3Glk/s400/IMG_5438.JPG" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Such a smiley little nugget - a very good little girl with plenty of grins & giggles to go around in spite of her extremely noisy and busy older cousins</td></tr>
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</div><div class="separator" style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none; clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-JnX8Y8jozCE/TwSmJ9Md6hI/AAAAAAAAAxw/VoGM8f052cw/s1600/IMG_5436.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="400" rea="true" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-JnX8Y8jozCE/TwSmJ9Md6hI/AAAAAAAAAxw/VoGM8f052cw/s400/IMG_5436.JPG" width="266" /></a><a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-dFJ3vk6jG18/TwSmMADqzpI/AAAAAAAAAyA/1qTLib4QnKE/s1600/IMG_5466.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="400" rea="true" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-dFJ3vk6jG18/TwSmMADqzpI/AAAAAAAAAyA/1qTLib4QnKE/s400/IMG_5466.JPG" width="266" /></a></div><div style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none;"><br />
We had a very merry Viking Christmas!</div><div align="left" class="separator" style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none; clear: both; text-align: center;"></div>Shannahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16081428553651389002noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4107147.post-76740516834761606622011-12-20T19:12:00.002-06:002011-12-20T21:24:18.232-06:00Manly Men<div style="text-align: center;"> </div>I sometimes feel like I need to start a spin-off blog with the quips this two-year old of mine has been throwing out lately. I think I'll call it "Sh*t my son says"...<br />
<br />
<br />
This evening I was upstairs finishing up some work on my laptop, when I overheard heard my boys talking downstairs in the family room. Noah had been playing with his tool kit and says (as he always does) to Jordan, "Hey Dad! We're MEN!" <br />
<br />
Daddy says, "Yeah we are. And what do men do?" <br />
<br />
<br />
Noah: "Watch TV!"<br />
<br />
Dad: "Oh yeah, what else?"<br />
<br />
Noah: "We can bounce balls. And we sit on our butts."<br />
<br />
Dad got a good chuckle out of that one, and apparently decided to goad the kid on: "Sounds like us for sure. What else do men do?"<br />
<br />
Noah: "Eat pizza?"<br />
<br />
Dad: "Yep! What else?"<br />
<br />
Noah: "And burp and fart!"<br />
<br />
Dad: "AWESOME! Anything else?"<br />
<br />
Noah: "And we sleep in our own beds!" <br />
<br />
<br />
<strong>My sincerest apologies to my future daughter-in-law...</strong> <br />
<br />
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjpSf7Xwj19Pkenaqh52m3hN8c7MB4De0h1sCod8rvDlB7_Cq5mavhV63qBJmkEWrjEP8PRzfx0capQmcWf-LI8GSsySJURy-pcfUae_PTHjfI3Q6eQPqozcnFu6Nc1qB9FAwDRjg/s1600/IMG_4522.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="426" oda="true" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjpSf7Xwj19Pkenaqh52m3hN8c7MB4De0h1sCod8rvDlB7_Cq5mavhV63qBJmkEWrjEP8PRzfx0capQmcWf-LI8GSsySJURy-pcfUae_PTHjfI3Q6eQPqozcnFu6Nc1qB9FAwDRjg/s640/IMG_4522.JPG" width="640" /></a></div>Shannahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16081428553651389002noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4107147.post-23413415643275723562011-12-14T15:43:00.001-06:002011-12-20T21:23:47.309-06:00Guess Who's Coming to Town?<div style="text-align: center;"><strong><span style="font-size: large;">Guess Who's Coming to Town?</span></strong></div><br />
Last Friday, I got to take a trip with Bam-Bam's daycare class over to our favorite holiday spot - Santa's Village. The brave souls (aka the "2's Teachers") fed, napped, pottied, and bundled up 24 little munchkins before some of us parents joined the group for the trek over to the park for the big outing. <br />
<br />
As soon as we got there, unbundled, and split the group into two more manageable groups of toddlers, No-Fear Noah was the first kid to hop up on Santa's lap. He asked Santa for a Brachiosaurus. Santa throws me kindof a panicked look, but then very sweetly says, "well, have you been a nice little boy this year?"<br />
Noah: "Yeah! I'm a good boy!"<br />
Santa: "Okay then, I think I can manage to bring you a dinosaur for Christmas."<br />
Noah immediately jumps off his lap, yells, "okay! Let's go get it!" and tries to pull Santa up off the chair -- there will be none of this waiting for Christmas morning nonsense, he needs this dino RIGHT NOW. Bless his heart, Santa managed to salvage the moment by telling him all about how if you are kind to your sister and helpful to your Mom & Dad, when Christmas morning comes that dinosaur will be in your stocking.<br />
<br />
Crap. Anybody happen to know where I could find a Brachiosaurus for sale?<br />
<br />
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Noah and his new friend Santa Claus</td></tr>
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgBCrc-9RRfFVjsjnVIO8b9_Cwfe3A_dqYQ1dUZfH8xlLYAwl0TjoK7MZLprm0aL9HanYyL1miDH02u8B_u_boP5bMvqBn1cCEDSCRwoWt3L2Hwm2WcaEVzoECrbFK3inSIsgF_yQ/s1600/IMG_4909.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="212" mda="true" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgBCrc-9RRfFVjsjnVIO8b9_Cwfe3A_dqYQ1dUZfH8xlLYAwl0TjoK7MZLprm0aL9HanYyL1miDH02u8B_u_boP5bMvqBn1cCEDSCRwoWt3L2Hwm2WcaEVzoECrbFK3inSIsgF_yQ/s320/IMG_4909.JPG" width="320" /></a><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiP3nhdx0ElcPACaMWHJ1zvbEFmOU-eeLYw4GnyQgqP8_eQ088qPCiwEilmxynsH8r3qVKoNfT2YLODP2VedJtE99am2XiQMfinCEfERo54u-2jWbjLWXqvm0jcpS7rH7cPMcni_A/s1600/IMG_4929.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="213" mda="true" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiP3nhdx0ElcPACaMWHJ1zvbEFmOU-eeLYw4GnyQgqP8_eQ088qPCiwEilmxynsH8r3qVKoNfT2YLODP2VedJtE99am2XiQMfinCEfERo54u-2jWbjLWXqvm0jcpS7rH7cPMcni_A/s320/IMG_4929.JPG" width="320" /></a><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh0RFn1_eG9NShK4G8XD2YbyP4aiDThRggfnQfutWQcfUXILeSxTLngVt8xMywxMQshasCEXNfTEFJPVnGO-OXpQhHTugskXCqjuzlpznP5abwjjw4A2bB1VJ3jTKgO6AxYvMFuqA/s1600/IMG_4901.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" mda="true" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh0RFn1_eG9NShK4G8XD2YbyP4aiDThRggfnQfutWQcfUXILeSxTLngVt8xMywxMQshasCEXNfTEFJPVnGO-OXpQhHTugskXCqjuzlpznP5abwjjw4A2bB1VJ3jTKgO6AxYvMFuqA/s320/IMG_4901.JPG" width="212" /></a></div><br />
Santa even got fist-pounds from some very excited little boys, prepping him for his long trek on Christmas Eve. The boys were also particularly interested in un-decorating the beautiful Christmas trees that decked the halls of Santa's Village. Mrs. Claus was less successful in getting the gang to sit still for storytime. (But really, Mrs. Claus, they're two - did you really expect complete silence and full participation from this crowd?)<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg8Y2fJ8mZQKdoZ-xVwH6YeNPi85ma5iirm5Ww6GGghxcTMvOmipmdRBOuX11I9F4jf_clrRQ_ZomsK4xMj2r-sz2l_LGcI83uejWkmL0-HlRM3b9dtVjWxDHASWCrrXjbb72WegA/s1600/IMG_4949.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="400" oda="true" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg8Y2fJ8mZQKdoZ-xVwH6YeNPi85ma5iirm5Ww6GGghxcTMvOmipmdRBOuX11I9F4jf_clrRQ_ZomsK4xMj2r-sz2l_LGcI83uejWkmL0-HlRM3b9dtVjWxDHASWCrrXjbb72WegA/s400/IMG_4949.JPG" width="266" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Noah & Mama, still smiling after being told for the 12 billionth time, "DON'T TOUCH THE TRAIN!!" <br />
He also snatched a $1 bill out of the toy train (a collection for the local Food Pantry).<br />
I'd be impressed if I weren't so mortified.</td></tr>
</tbody></table> <br />
<div style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none;">Asha's nose was pretty out of joint that her bro got to go to Santa's Village, but she wouldn't get to attend because she'd be in school. We went there the past two years as a family outing, but fighting those crowds just didn't seem like a whole lot of fun with a rambunctious two-year-old in tow, especially one who had already seen the wonders this place had to behold. But Mommy took pity on her, and we ventured across the neighbor's backyard to the Village late that Saturday afternoon. We quickly discovered <em>that</em> is definitely the time to go!<em> </em>No crowds, no lines, unlimited access to the craft table, and plenty of time to give Santa the entire rundown of your wish list.</div><br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjNtMr2lovtSFy3EcEfVjgYmdEydkQxmOIwlxaGvX6AhjOSp9H2yLHPKmwlby4XQecto16uQW0WfAsjS4JJsXWP5LULwwI-Wt1afc9Gco-uBBTFzYwPjtjtt9wSp4i-_9Fq6iRPxw/s1600/IMG_4963.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="266" oda="true" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjNtMr2lovtSFy3EcEfVjgYmdEydkQxmOIwlxaGvX6AhjOSp9H2yLHPKmwlby4XQecto16uQW0WfAsjS4JJsXWP5LULwwI-Wt1afc9Gco-uBBTFzYwPjtjtt9wSp4i-_9Fq6iRPxw/s400/IMG_4963.JPG" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">That's a whole lot of sparkly blue eyes!</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgcjoxo2gB3-4401JHl2EfMt_ubEgpvwEjkdZvY6hD1GoNG07QpZPQjjnKDNRCQ4GaqyjHav23asQSu5c8A77XTluHaD8fpM1Jv-DKYNPJXHMNXhf79dHJgnxMU3Dn1qQaO4BRgQw/s1600/IMG_5006.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; cssfloat: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" height="400" oda="true" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgcjoxo2gB3-4401JHl2EfMt_ubEgpvwEjkdZvY6hD1GoNG07QpZPQjjnKDNRCQ4GaqyjHav23asQSu5c8A77XTluHaD8fpM1Jv-DKYNPJXHMNXhf79dHJgnxMU3Dn1qQaO4BRgQw/s400/IMG_5006.JPG" width="266" /></a><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgRK42D2ICAjdJqDRiDiwJS4ulATH5RvDqFNCZ9iZaRIgVvdNitjEWBREspPJ-9KB-2BfY1l2VOOQOcWoQ-wLb8EzNZklmTn616nPSTFnUkDaNWilnJQ_qTxOHGKhZjkAil9fpY9Q/s1600/IMG_4973.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="400" oda="true" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgRK42D2ICAjdJqDRiDiwJS4ulATH5RvDqFNCZ9iZaRIgVvdNitjEWBREspPJ-9KB-2BfY1l2VOOQOcWoQ-wLb8EzNZklmTn616nPSTFnUkDaNWilnJQ_qTxOHGKhZjkAil9fpY9Q/s400/IMG_4973.JPG" width="266" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none; text-align: center;">Decorating cookies with Mrs. Claus. Dear old Mrs. Claus shared plenty of Christmas-themed jokes, which Asha has since repeated constantly to anyone who will listen (and even those who won't). And quite the cute little elf, if I do say so myself!</td></tr>
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<div style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none; clear: both; text-align: left;">Ornament making was her favorite activity, followed by a visit to Dasher & Blitzen, then a carefully worded request to Old St. Nick to bring this very good little girl something special in her stocking Christmas morning. So while we went on separate trips, I must say we all thoroughly enjoyed the Santa Village for the 3rd year in a row! </div><div style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none; clear: both; text-align: left;"><br />
</div><div style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none; clear: both; text-align: left;">Seeing all the Christmas cheer at the Village also inspired me to get my hiney in gear and get the Christmas decorations put up in our house. Despite the ZERO snowfall we have on the ground as of December 14th (!), it really is beginning to look a lot like Christmas! </div>Shannahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16081428553651389002noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4107147.post-57794076149358420572011-11-29T23:40:00.002-06:002011-12-20T21:25:36.064-06:00Kindergarten Advice: How to Succeed in Business (without really trying)Yeah, yeah, I know: it's been awhile since we've chatted. I've really been quite the slacker with the ol' blog these days. I could tell you it's because I've been out enjoying the unseasonably nice weather we've had around here. I could tell you it's because I've been busy cooking and baking and prepping for a huge Thanksgiving feast. I could tell you it's because I've spent the last 6 weeks preparing, cleaning, moving, cleaning, touching-up, cleaning, staging, cleaning, re-organizing and <em>cleaning </em>our house before we put it on the market. I could tell you that between parent/teacher conferences, gymnastics, soccer, hockey, birthday parties, and a newfound love for racquetball (yeah, I know), I just haven't had a whole lotta extra time on my hands to blog! Or, I could tell you what is probably the most truthful: that I haven't really had anything all that interesting to say lately! Ha! But I'm back, at least for now, because I just had to tell you about...<br />
<div style="text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: center;"><strong><span style="font-size: large;">HOW TO SUCCEED IN BUSINESS <br />
(WITHOUT REALLY TRYING)</span></strong></div><br />
A few days ago, Asha asked us if we could go to Disneyland. It's a common occurrence, her asking this question, so we didn't give much thought to it and just gave our standard "no" response. But the child was feeling particularly persistant that day and kept digging for more.<br />
<blockquote class="tr_bq">"Why CAN'T we go?"<br />
<br />
"Because, we just can't."<br />
<br />
"Well why not?"<br />
<br />
"Because I said so!"<br />
<br />
"THAT'S NOT A REAL REASON!" (that one sure came back to bite me...)</blockquote>She had me there. So I brought in the Truth Teller, (aka The Dream Crusher): Daddy.<br />
<blockquote class="tr_bq">"Asha, we can't go to Disney because we just haven't saved up enough money to take a trip like that right now." <br />
<br />
"Well you guys have lots of money, I saw a whole bunch in Mom's purse! Let's use that to go on our trip!" She was referring to the approximately $7 + change that I had that particular day.</blockquote><br />
At this point we decided to make this a lesson in hard work and penny pinching. Mistake? Probably. This kid outsmarts the both of us on a regular basis and we tend to make poor parenting decisions...<br />
<blockquote class="tr_bq">"Oh, honey, we really would love to take you there, we just can't right now. Ok? Maybe in a couple years when Noah is bigger we'll all go. That way we will have time to work hard and save up our money so we can do everything there that we want to do."<br />
<br />
She wasn't convinced. "But I wanna goooo nooooowwwww! Can't you guys just go and work harder and make some more money at your jobs?"</blockquote><blockquote class="tr_bq">Mommy inserts wisecrack, "Well, can't YOU just go GET a job?" Jordan shoots me a 'you're not helping' glare... </blockquote><blockquote class="tr_bq">"No Mom, I'm <em>five</em>, I can't even drive yet and you won't even let me walk to daycare. Why don't you just go tell your bosses to give you more money and then we can go to Disneyland?!"</blockquote>Well, durr. Sounds perfectly reasonable! Why the hell didn't I think of that before? But then Jordan, guy-who-never-lets-sleeping-dogs-lie, keeps on with our little life lesson.<br />
<br />
"It's not that easy, Asha. It's very important to work hard and do your best, but sometimes that doesn't mean you'll get more money". (I must admit I sortof tuned out at this point, right about when he started in on the money-isn't-everything lecture. The guy can be a real bummer sometimes...)<br />
<br />
But just when we thought she was about to concede, Asha responded with a frighteningly well thought-out argument as to why we should just get off our (apparently) lazy butts and get to the moneymakin' so she can meet up with Mickey & Minnie before she hits the ripe old age of 7 and all the magic is over. And yes. Yes, she <em>did </em>use the word "magic". *sigh*<br />
<br />
Ever had those parenting situations where you know you ABSOLUTELY MUST NOT LAUGH at your child in this moment, but every muscle on your face is twitching from trying not to erupt into giggles and it is taking every ounce of self control not to look your spouse in the eye cuz you know you'll lose it? Yup, that happened.<br />
<br />
So I had her restate her points on camera just so we wouldn't forget. As if we would. It probably wasn't quite as poignant the second time around (and of course she had to do one take with sparkly hat, one without, and restage her background for better lighting.) If this girl ain't the product of the Debate Coach and the Theater Queen... <br />
<br />
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But really, the kid makes a whole lot of sense, doesn't she?Shannahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16081428553651389002noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4107147.post-67388872519264690882011-10-06T22:43:00.001-05:002011-12-20T21:25:53.008-06:00Under Where?<div style="text-align: center;"> </div>You've all heard the golden line from your dear Mother: "Always wear clean undies in case you're in an accident."<br />
<br />
Why? <br />
<br />
If I'm in an accident, I'm probably gonna crap my pants out of fear and shock anyway.<br />
<br />
It was probably just some wisely figurative way of saying "always be prepared" or "appearance matters" or maybe "if you're going to make an impression, make a <u>good</u> one"… y'know, some brilliant nugget of motherly genius.<br />
<br />
I'm coming to realize that what Mom probably <em>should</em> have been saying all those years was, "always wear non-embarrassing underwear in case, God forbid, anyone ever sees them." This is far more practical advice.<br />
<br />
Yes, this advice would have served me well tonight when I went to the massage therapist. As I stripped down, I realized with horror that I was wearing…. THEM. The most embarrassing pair of underwear on this big blue planet. These weren't just your everyday run-of-the-mill Granny Panties. Nosirreeebob, these were some extra-roomy <strong>maternity</strong> undies. Let's be clear: I <em>am not</em> and <em>will not</em> be pregnant. Nor have I been for 2.5 years. But I have continued to don the ginormous bloomers because to be perfectly honest, they are SUPER comfy. I have the same sentiments about maternity clothing in general. In fact, it's a good thing my sister-in-law got pregnant when she did (she inherited my maternity clothes) because if she hadn't, I'm certain I'd still be wearing those jeans with the stretchy, oh-so-comfy expandable waistband. Don't judge me. They're fricken comfortable. <br />
<br />
Back when I was in my teens & twenties, underwear were a novel item: sexy, colorful, expensive garments that NEVER saw the light of day. But in my thirties, my underthing-priorities have changed considerably: Practical, comfortable, cheap. And now it seems like EVERYONE sees them. My doctor, massage therapist, chiropractor, the kids, the husband, hell, even the UPS Man (long story, suffice it to say we won't be ordering any packages anytime soon) and one time even a male co-workerwho got a close-up glimpse of the GP's when a laundry incident landed a pair right in the pocket of my hoodie (which I proceeded to pull out and examine right in front of him. Smooth move, huh!?).<br />
<br />
But those extra-roomy, panel-in-front maternity underpants? Those, I kept. Sweet mercy, WHY!!! But guess what? I don't care. Because that stretchy, sturdy cotton is like wearing a fluffy cloud on the hiney. Some days, my life is absolute chaos. And the practical comfort of those giant underoos help me tackle my crazy life with energy and fortitude that no one wearing a pair of those floss-in-the-crack panties would be able to muster. So yes, I think my massive Mom-derwear gives me power. I am SuperMom!<br />
<br />
There's another popular saying that goes, "put on your big girl panties." I think it's figuratively supposed to mean "suck it up, deal with it, be strong, etc.". Well, my Mom-advice is to take that saying <u>literally</u>. Because even though, frankly, they kinda might… well… <em>look</em> like mountains, those suckers might just be able to help you <em>move</em> mountains.Shannahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16081428553651389002noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4107147.post-90795840619997309112011-09-26T16:42:00.002-05:002011-12-20T21:26:31.826-06:00It's a Hard Knock Life<div style="text-align: center;"><em>by Asha (As told to Mommy)</em></div><br />
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<div><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjUbYQVt0Mu1VpGNdDNtKct6MQdDSxsMAde6LuJslGChuFhwAMjC2Uqrt8gYCdtkzF3kUTGSZl5dGOwxh_iKRL37Re9qHNm9kKH6nau7aeYGFbNDM2gsLtn5Rhd6ivciDjCRWKNNA/s1600/WP_000324.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; cssfloat: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" hca="true" height="266" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjUbYQVt0Mu1VpGNdDNtKct6MQdDSxsMAde6LuJslGChuFhwAMjC2Uqrt8gYCdtkzF3kUTGSZl5dGOwxh_iKRL37Re9qHNm9kKH6nau7aeYGFbNDM2gsLtn5Rhd6ivciDjCRWKNNA/s400/WP_000324.jpg" width="400" /></a>When I got home from daycare tonight, things were going pretty rotten for me. I couldn't help it, all I wanted to do was listen to my favorite Justin Bieber song <em>ever</em> on the radio, and Mom just turned off the van right in the middle of it. How dare she! So I threw just the teeniest little temper tantrum to let her know just how displeased I really was. That didn't go so well, cuz then I had to sit in time out when we got in the house. No fair! <br />
<br />
<br />
As soon as I got out of time out, Noah picked up his toy sword and smacked me right in the face with it. UGH! Little brothers are such a pain! This just wasn't shaping up to be a good night.</div><div><br />
</div><div><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi8YsasO2JjbzpJt9YaBcFGwcofmaY4DfXyae4JDpbyIpegh4iR3zxS88PyJcwm9VSLyjqrZlY0YhVc-JvkrylF42ki6k0ORgmRpnW_9yoBhdgJDCoer2nY3lhyphenhyphena-L1g3qDu0PT6Q/s1600/IMG_2442.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; cssfloat: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" hca="true" height="266" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi8YsasO2JjbzpJt9YaBcFGwcofmaY4DfXyae4JDpbyIpegh4iR3zxS88PyJcwm9VSLyjqrZlY0YhVc-JvkrylF42ki6k0ORgmRpnW_9yoBhdgJDCoer2nY3lhyphenhyphena-L1g3qDu0PT6Q/s400/IMG_2442.JPG" width="400" /></a>Then... my Mom made yucky supper that had <em>vegetables </em>in it. I hate it when she does that. Dad told me I better suck it up and eat it, cuz that's all I'm getting for supper. They're the meanest. All I wanted to do was hang out in my room so I could read my new library book. You know, the one about the dead kitty cat that Mom freaked out about when I brought home from the school library? But noooooooo. Nobody would leave me alone so I could enjoy my peace and quiet!</div><div><br />
</div><div>Don't they understand what a rough month I've had? I mean COME ON, PEOPLE! I have been one <em>busy</em> kid lately! The life of a Kindergartener is not an easy one, ya know! One month ago, I started going to school. Like EVERY. SINGLE. DAY. That's a lot of learning. But I love school so much, it's so much fun. I really like my teacher and I have made lots of new friends. In fact, I've learned so much in the past month that I think I'm pretty much ready to go out and get a job now. <br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg9IA_yyj-H735qOQlz9-EGRRqf21VNkaQqV5wWqYxTuTUVnSGpDJYPQJYiJtTD074NpXM-sk-mt75-V8EsI6YiKSdrhFj4gNN5nMOeKMqW4rB9tpYLwr_C17I_5iHfPP4lpanguA/s1600/IMG_1809.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" hca="true" height="266" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg9IA_yyj-H735qOQlz9-EGRRqf21VNkaQqV5wWqYxTuTUVnSGpDJYPQJYiJtTD074NpXM-sk-mt75-V8EsI6YiKSdrhFj4gNN5nMOeKMqW4rB9tpYLwr_C17I_5iHfPP4lpanguA/s400/IMG_1809.JPG" width="400" /></a></div><div><br />
</div><div>For example, since school started, I've learned how to write all 26 letters of the alphabet in lower case. I can write lots of stuff now, like notes to my parents which I leave all over the house for them. Oh, and I almost forgot the most important part: I learned how to READ!! It's pretty cool. So that's why I've been going to the library more, and getting really interesting books about things that my parents don't really wanna talk about. Grownups are weird.</div><div><br />
</div></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi11iyWhPqIK1howfvqyQRdrPpc8gPGgXze-ONAHDx65cFDtLCUiPZK8kzzFMP5PdPbbFTAgtFqh2xvq3lolWM5xHjbXHjle-_WA_MHpJvZOK_9smsq0Nzex-tBPRn0NxFM3LOhFg/s1600/WP_000053.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" hca="true" height="300" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi11iyWhPqIK1howfvqyQRdrPpc8gPGgXze-ONAHDx65cFDtLCUiPZK8kzzFMP5PdPbbFTAgtFqh2xvq3lolWM5xHjbXHjle-_WA_MHpJvZOK_9smsq0Nzex-tBPRn0NxFM3LOhFg/s400/WP_000053.jpg" width="400" /></a></div><div><br />
</div><div>I also just learned how to tie my shoes. You might think that's no big deal, but Dad says "thank goodness, no more velcro or slip-ons!" It still takes me about 100 years to tie one knot, but I'm getting the hang of it.</div><div><br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjqtNQCjc628_Mz5skUAKZD9qYOq2Hfa5a7COGTbsm_YXe-CqcxjwCCggMsIT868qOuYu0oM1Wq3IRoPOCMUJ0qZFXzhszpXrxed8HeDTynY5i8Btedy2QSTUH5DzoyhGk0WT8zlg/s1600/IMG_3973.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; cssfloat: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" hca="true" height="266" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjqtNQCjc628_Mz5skUAKZD9qYOq2Hfa5a7COGTbsm_YXe-CqcxjwCCggMsIT868qOuYu0oM1Wq3IRoPOCMUJ0qZFXzhszpXrxed8HeDTynY5i8Btedy2QSTUH5DzoyhGk0WT8zlg/s400/IMG_3973.JPG" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">No more training wheels! Wooohooo!!</td></tr>
</tbody></table><div>Guess what else I figured out how to do this month? Yep: I can ride my bike with NO training wheels! I tried a couple times this summer, but always got too frustrated. So one weekend when my Grandma & Grandpa & my uncles were here, I just decided to show off my skills and I just hopped on my Princess bike and rode on down the street while my Mommy ran behind me. She was yelling something, but I couldn't hear her because I was going so fast! It's super fun, now I ride all the time!</div></div><div><br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEghbkW3Mmy4dEi1cVaQsbvHgcwVjGSXBbgsRPSZmqBOIsIsFnGjxTsdlvUl5b1smTmqFV1DohllRF8h06dXc60Ub1Grgwkm-1uikrSBkFw1b0Uo6847ciOPnVEbA9pRSXiLNT6BLw/s1600/IMG_3720.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; cssfloat: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" hca="true" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEghbkW3Mmy4dEi1cVaQsbvHgcwVjGSXBbgsRPSZmqBOIsIsFnGjxTsdlvUl5b1smTmqFV1DohllRF8h06dXc60Ub1Grgwkm-1uikrSBkFw1b0Uo6847ciOPnVEbA9pRSXiLNT6BLw/s400/IMG_3720.JPG" width="266" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">This was right after I scored my very first goal ever!</td></tr>
</tbody></table></div><div>One of the best things I've done lately is start playing K-1 soccer. I played Pre-K last year, but this team is <em>only</em> girls and WAY more fun! My Dad is the coach. He's kindof a fun-killer for my little soccer social hour, but it's pretty great having him coach me and my friends. We have an awesome time together. I scored my first goal EVER this month too! I thought that was so much fun that just I went ahead and scored my 2nd, 3rd, 4th, 5th, 6th, and 7th goals over the next 3 games! I pretty much don't ever slow down... soccer is awesome!</div><div><br />
</div><div>On top of all those super amazing things I've been doing lately, I still manage to find the time to do my normal fun stuff, like playing dress-up, Barbies, bugging my bro-bro, reading, coloring, painting, singing, dancing, giggling, shopping, watching movies, riding bike to the park to practice my monkey bar routine, and other regular kid things. Mom says she doesn't know where I find the energy. I do. It's all those darn vegetables she's feeding me!</div><div><br />
</div><table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: right; text-align: right;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgLqhAvLU3tVFOCG4iSxhV7zxx8EC325tA6soFDMe3yjoYsEXG9-vN4H-OYGvZyr0ycMqYvMvVZZUzcQ4ENzTLU5gPQ-byzxQgmp2dNRhG1ZPxV_vOwuAliKp1GklwjwQZEz1khvQ/s1600/89.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; cssfloat: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" hca="true" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgLqhAvLU3tVFOCG4iSxhV7zxx8EC325tA6soFDMe3yjoYsEXG9-vN4H-OYGvZyr0ycMqYvMvVZZUzcQ4ENzTLU5gPQ-byzxQgmp2dNRhG1ZPxV_vOwuAliKp1GklwjwQZEz1khvQ/s320/89.jpg" width="240" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Miss Monkey Business</td></tr>
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<br />
<div></div><div></div><div>So I wish those grownups would just cut me a little slack, ya know? I've got a busy life, and now I don't even get to take naps anymore! I mean, I'd like to see <em>you </em>learn how to read and write, tie your shoes, ride a bike, kick a goal, and swing across the monkey bars 76 times and then land on your feet! ALL WITHIN 30 DAYS' TIME! My many talents tend to go unappreciated...</div><div><br />
It ain't easy being a Kindergartener. But I'm getting pretty good at it...<br />
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</div><table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: left;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg8TT5-rbb15jWqOgSmRKQr2PxcSpUT06aQHMswY2CKscQ5a0EUvj0kyYLjPM5mlDAJqnqiLUKU9Dc7Ce5DiuX_AT9zVDZ_w0thoifbn6LBNNaVbjb9prJOpH19s5-jPt4xvnG1Gw/s1600/IMG_3455.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg8TT5-rbb15jWqOgSmRKQr2PxcSpUT06aQHMswY2CKscQ5a0EUvj0kyYLjPM5mlDAJqnqiLUKU9Dc7Ce5DiuX_AT9zVDZ_w0thoifbn6LBNNaVbjb9prJOpH19s5-jPt4xvnG1Gw/s400/IMG_3455.JPG" width="266" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">I "crack" me up!</td></tr>
</tbody></table>Shannahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16081428553651389002noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4107147.post-61947487713900216772011-08-23T14:18:00.001-05:002011-12-20T21:26:47.431-06:00"Two and Five"<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><div align="left"><br />
Despite being just a few months behind schedule, I took the kiddos in for their "birthday portraits", taken the end of July. When we got to the studio, the photographer asked how old they were turning, so I responded, "two and five." Noah, ever the little parrot, starts repeating "two and five! two and five! two and five!" until he nearly drove his parents and sister bonkers! Apparently, this little phrase was pretty catchy: We're potty training now, and use M&M's as a little reward when he goes on the potty. If he does the deed, I'll ask him "Ok, so how many M&M's do you want?" and he <em>always</em> responds, "TWO AND FIVE!" Glad to see those Christman "weirdo genes" are starting to show up in that kid...</div><div align="left"></div><div align="left">Anyway, here are the results of our photo-session. The patriotic red-white-n-blue theme wasn't intentional but they sure do look like the All-American kids don't they!? Not sure how it happened that these little monkeys grew up so dang fast!</div><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhR09fTD-ppnd6tsQEbtPu7j12Uot-5X-9KvRLwij3d2Mm8lyT0BsVTfAmK2KOttIDGXokpDAVtQr6vhiH5VJPp1lWD5W8NFsI5Bod1AD7MDavxPQUi4hIjOF8rCcO5dSCStPALoQ/s1600/P1.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="400" qaa="true" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhR09fTD-ppnd6tsQEbtPu7j12Uot-5X-9KvRLwij3d2Mm8lyT0BsVTfAmK2KOttIDGXokpDAVtQr6vhiH5VJPp1lWD5W8NFsI5Bod1AD7MDavxPQUi4hIjOF8rCcO5dSCStPALoQ/s400/P1.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Hello my smiley little man. I happen to think you are the cutest two year old boy on earth! That chin dimple is too much & I just wanna smooch your pudgy toddler cheeks all day long!</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjNQoRHpy2J7tLnr6_c964RSCeTfxB7r7c1c-oWZXCiI__9eZwVjGZ-vjgwXmD_EjnTUbhF0JIKmxW4m3XejqJwnPHKDupGgFnnGE9cuTEdRTsR8v__pZUhQDpRtCRlfp3ilQxAMQ/s1600/P3.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="400" qaa="true" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjNQoRHpy2J7tLnr6_c964RSCeTfxB7r7c1c-oWZXCiI__9eZwVjGZ-vjgwXmD_EjnTUbhF0JIKmxW4m3XejqJwnPHKDupGgFnnGE9cuTEdRTsR8v__pZUhQDpRtCRlfp3ilQxAMQ/s400/P3.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Anyone else think he looks a lot like Daddy here? Right down to that dang untameable cowlick on the back of his head!</td></tr>
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<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhTSPRklZ8kcwASZG5pc1d1fCwBSTnEsirkFOOOXkHG1hMQkYBo8CUn7UFiC-Advb93S5SxCXjpj__xhHDFZNhbXE_ALGiQAmR19029abTLVk8PHJl3BosjsXv3dgKwMTMbgYiQqw/s1600/P6.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="400" qaa="true" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhTSPRklZ8kcwASZG5pc1d1fCwBSTnEsirkFOOOXkHG1hMQkYBo8CUn7UFiC-Advb93S5SxCXjpj__xhHDFZNhbXE_ALGiQAmR19029abTLVk8PHJl3BosjsXv3dgKwMTMbgYiQqw/s400/P6.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">This look usually says one of two things: 1) I'm tired and wanna snuggle or 2) I'm kinda bored and am about to get reeeal naughty. The goose egg on my forehead [*head butt*] is a sign that I have not yet learned the subtle nuances between the two.</td></tr>
</tbody></table><br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjRaZiNgLIqg6_7hyzoDWF_d1ycoCiFcFVKNG9XdTIIpf_anJWcWa2uGvDa4I02Oh4bdKd5ww9bVAfVHA_fJfl3UMhbmM-Jccfvjoti3Y-3VuChhsUupnbJIZvGjbsDu5ONtbwTWQ/s1600/P5.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="320" qaa="true" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjRaZiNgLIqg6_7hyzoDWF_d1ycoCiFcFVKNG9XdTIIpf_anJWcWa2uGvDa4I02Oh4bdKd5ww9bVAfVHA_fJfl3UMhbmM-Jccfvjoti3Y-3VuChhsUupnbJIZvGjbsDu5ONtbwTWQ/s400/P5.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Looks like he's about to share some "wisdom according to Noah" </td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEimazMcnFQFTEI8_2nEnN36y9dI_0yUwAKmjWVDkMLr5kAoOax5qdfOcTQNqr6Z_6rR1Fg9XHTpmZcVcbcr3u6ybSvUy1DmlycKEbRI9PVUgpXumHc2DRFED2L-yovEVwVD9LlWWA/s1600/P2.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="320" qaa="true" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEimazMcnFQFTEI8_2nEnN36y9dI_0yUwAKmjWVDkMLr5kAoOax5qdfOcTQNqr6Z_6rR1Fg9XHTpmZcVcbcr3u6ybSvUy1DmlycKEbRI9PVUgpXumHc2DRFED2L-yovEVwVD9LlWWA/s400/P2.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Silly goob. This so very well captures him though, my contemplative little comedian!</td></tr>
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<table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: right; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjjaTxhIR4cDyASXRVz9ybL11iJ-9wZjsH-NWssknP2CImOsAYjPuk_vBpNtviRXCSTolIYWtCSprJL2Ls3YoxpX7zfTgID5P7zdBI4_3eyFwuINUegDyhmKz5rRvV77iS-LRSYOQ/s1600/P19.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="320" qaa="true" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjjaTxhIR4cDyASXRVz9ybL11iJ-9wZjsH-NWssknP2CImOsAYjPuk_vBpNtviRXCSTolIYWtCSprJL2Ls3YoxpX7zfTgID5P7zdBI4_3eyFwuINUegDyhmKz5rRvV77iS-LRSYOQ/s400/P19.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Love those sparkly blue eyes!</td></tr>
</tbody></table>Miss Ash has always been so very photogenic, plus she's such a little poser that photographers usually just eat her up when she comes in for pics! But this time I wasn't so sure. When I went to daycare to pick the kids up, I realized that all the big kids were on their daily excursion to the city pool! So Mommy sped like a maniac across town, grabbed her out of the pool on that super-hot day, face bright-red, hair sopping wet, and looking rather like a wrinkly newborn field mouse. Attractive. But, thanks to Daddy's fancy brush-work and ingenius use of the air-conditioning system in the minivan, she arrived at the studio 15 minutes later looking adorable as all getout, with her dry(ish) locks and non-fuschia skin tone! <br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEji1zUcWNAY4DDKsPswY9K35InaOOTm3gIGSVe4HglYgm_UperC7NGrTshkBX5KAOyV4AgxYv_IHgM0DS6ul3d1aDCMLcajcrrnDAzfa7BH2Rmlk8yFJ55kbnryvAkSZQLst2ULsg/s1600/P16.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="400" qaa="true" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEji1zUcWNAY4DDKsPswY9K35InaOOTm3gIGSVe4HglYgm_UperC7NGrTshkBX5KAOyV4AgxYv_IHgM0DS6ul3d1aDCMLcajcrrnDAzfa7BH2Rmlk8yFJ55kbnryvAkSZQLst2ULsg/s400/P16.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">We had a hard time getting her to stop giggling so her face wasn't all scrunched up in the pics... this turned out pretty cute though! And how about that outfit?! She's very in to "zebra stripes" lately! I totally want those shoes...</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj6PyBoNpqNsNY3nu9SGfdTqvqrhdM8A0VMTV-7GaqwWP5fCKIiOspcq1frVCtJGTPZ5suj2Vk-KltLGTXr6943woeipXPi0ahgAR83UkMS5Caw44QHBSWYFdgD7_fDA_dQpfmgEQ/s1600/P20.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="400" qaa="true" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj6PyBoNpqNsNY3nu9SGfdTqvqrhdM8A0VMTV-7GaqwWP5fCKIiOspcq1frVCtJGTPZ5suj2Vk-KltLGTXr6943woeipXPi0ahgAR83UkMS5Caw44QHBSWYFdgD7_fDA_dQpfmgEQ/s400/P20.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Thought it looked ridiculous when the photorapher was having her pose like this, but it actually turned out pretty darn cute! </td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhrpgHc9dt76QWmssp3pnlT4DdN8Me0bhY9vHOUuCNLPGPPZxfgm5u9LSEkgG0eR26ieor0o9U17IYzyRQMKs_nHQH_SeShnsRb11nY6LypDFOe35ofwuajUujJqDCcUPH14qGtKQ/s1600/P17.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="400" qaa="true" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhrpgHc9dt76QWmssp3pnlT4DdN8Me0bhY9vHOUuCNLPGPPZxfgm5u9LSEkgG0eR26ieor0o9U17IYzyRQMKs_nHQH_SeShnsRb11nY6LypDFOe35ofwuajUujJqDCcUPH14qGtKQ/s400/P17.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">My favorite shot of her... just so "Asha"!</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgY6P4Hw9Yf4Fp2loSwu1zOAT-WHGaoPbAHkjPVoyL57wT839QP66AGMcgCD68E36iY9iKxMSK-ZIVjkG8z9kHE2xiGuIUpCTk7T4nse5F5jkV4MOAgFUHa5AWqYQhp8fgGgJZJmQ/s1600/P22.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="400" qaa="true" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgY6P4Hw9Yf4Fp2loSwu1zOAT-WHGaoPbAHkjPVoyL57wT839QP66AGMcgCD68E36iY9iKxMSK-ZIVjkG8z9kHE2xiGuIUpCTk7T4nse5F5jkV4MOAgFUHa5AWqYQhp8fgGgJZJmQ/s400/P22.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Hello pretty girl. How come you grew up so fast?</td></tr>
</tbody></table>Then we did some shots of the two of them together. I was a little worried that bossy big sis and independent little bro would not cooperate... but thankfully, they proved me wrong! <br />
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<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhMWUN9GAELhiE9izrfIbKTzgYTlX9VRQt1TysKbUVWQLpcRVb6Qh6EV3Fvwa2rlVsEfHMmVpmqEyZiM_RpqOgxGCIGs6J2KcNJbdSQsAaW6sMpfL_Xsg7d27IoXg-0t3Z5cS3lWg/s1600/P10.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="400" qaa="true" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhMWUN9GAELhiE9izrfIbKTzgYTlX9VRQt1TysKbUVWQLpcRVb6Qh6EV3Fvwa2rlVsEfHMmVpmqEyZiM_RpqOgxGCIGs6J2KcNJbdSQsAaW6sMpfL_Xsg7d27IoXg-0t3Z5cS3lWg/s400/P10.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">This one was so that Mommy could remember the height difference between them at this age. I can't believe how quickly Noah is catching up to his (tall-for-her-age) sister!</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhPNH0UTENcybCayb_IeqcLnbu7kfY6iiTbPlS4wSFxsrzoVJWDOvq2yqMn3Skb4E5_Dfdcu61RseLYqAHwRQPRd9FwNoRYh998LHpj6lAPfkI8ZLjxfuuXLXfWgk6XQHeMjTKdkA/s1600/P15.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="400" qaa="true" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhPNH0UTENcybCayb_IeqcLnbu7kfY6iiTbPlS4wSFxsrzoVJWDOvq2yqMn3Skb4E5_Dfdcu61RseLYqAHwRQPRd9FwNoRYh998LHpj6lAPfkI8ZLjxfuuXLXfWgk6XQHeMjTKdkA/s400/P15.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">They had just erupted into giggles here, I think the photographer captured their silliness pretty well!</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgYv57UBAhIbdJd1rV3lRdNYD11w9n0dsWiof2bYYQ7gdMXBcRTHhhZ2FWALHO7xrbEACLOJkif6TSGjqpfVmH8RnRbavgYf4K4DwKtsexIwmoT87Ww_RwbQuSXywQusGkKGRSdxA/s1600/P12.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="400" qaa="true" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgYv57UBAhIbdJd1rV3lRdNYD11w9n0dsWiof2bYYQ7gdMXBcRTHhhZ2FWALHO7xrbEACLOJkif6TSGjqpfVmH8RnRbavgYf4K4DwKtsexIwmoT87Ww_RwbQuSXywQusGkKGRSdxA/s400/P12.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">My favorite shot of the whole session - this is totally them in their element!</td></tr>
</tbody></table><br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhh-9JIRmoLITE9D8HX9JP28WRBeKwC5f8F2nJC4OY0Wnvqlbot8ZQxYvam-vwbdIM2GA0yW02AYD2P2aUHJQTu7IdvdDA9LBKtwdbSbSHIs30M_2Oyyn72C2jOk2AK9iASrs9JaQ/s1600/P13.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="320" qaa="true" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhh-9JIRmoLITE9D8HX9JP28WRBeKwC5f8F2nJC4OY0Wnvqlbot8ZQxYvam-vwbdIM2GA0yW02AYD2P2aUHJQTu7IdvdDA9LBKtwdbSbSHIs30M_2Oyyn72C2jOk2AK9iASrs9JaQ/s400/P13.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">So sweet. Big sis takes such good care of her little bro, and while sometimes he pays her kindness back with a little shove, most of the time he can be found right by her side, tagging along and looking for a hug! Yes, they have their fair share of battles, but it is so incredible to see how close these two have become! </td></tr>
</tbody></table>Shannahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16081428553651389002noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4107147.post-65961162342092296262011-07-20T10:30:00.001-05:002011-12-20T21:27:04.166-06:00Summertime... and the Livin' is Easy<div style="text-align: center;"> </div>There's no denying it: summer is here in full-force! It seems like we waited so long for those temperatures to rise, and now we're complaining about how hot it is!! Well, <em>I'm</em> complaining anyway...maybe you all are more appreciative, but I've spent far too much time these past few days watching the sky turn black from those eerie summer storms rolling in. And far too much time sweating from places I didn't even know sweat could come from. Regardless, I am pretty darn happy that the sun has been shining down on us so we are able to enjoy tried-and-true summer activities like... <br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjQOaARIpslXXgLt8hyLByK3TmKCC3p-sIVdfKxQiXVFAkjZlKbNQuXaIpnXk_3rjT4tm64YrWu1lLAm3Gu8lvel9H4XAf3PM4Agi7AEPCRea9I0vT3Pm7l_MobMaSgX9j1NoYqBQ/s1600/WP_000280.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="300" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjQOaARIpslXXgLt8hyLByK3TmKCC3p-sIVdfKxQiXVFAkjZlKbNQuXaIpnXk_3rjT4tm64YrWu1lLAm3Gu8lvel9H4XAf3PM4Agi7AEPCRea9I0vT3Pm7l_MobMaSgX9j1NoYqBQ/s400/WP_000280.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">He kept busy collecting sitcks, then counting them: "9, 8, 7, Sticks" </td></tr>
</tbody></table><div><strong>Playing at the park.</strong> We live 1 1/2 blocks from the coolest little city park (we call it "Perfect Park"), tucked away in a nook under cover of trees and away from traffic. Our bikes have put on a lot of miles heading over there lately. Noah's favorite pastime while there: collecting sticks. (?) His sister, the gymnast, has been practicing her monkey bar routine. That kid can fly back & forth across a set of monkey bars 6 zillion times before she even begins to look tired out! You should see the "pipes" that girl is sporting - makes me think maybe I should incorporate her routine into my workout schedule!!</div><div><br />
</div><strong>Watching good old-fashioned American Baseball</strong>... Noah's first trip to Newman field was at 3 months of age, he got rained on and it wasn't a real fun time. But this time, my team from work got to hang out in the company box seats (air conditioned inside, under shelter outside). Asha ate a metric ton of junk food, Noah was fascinated by the RedHawk mascot, and Mom & Dad got to hang out with other real-live grownups! We had ourselves a pretty darn good time! <br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg0rn5GIumHYtKn-eKruVOZz9Lpgqu069sMJb7eL1vFEEZvB5L8pospWy51BhdVGR4DJm1G2hSWJSCWLYCK8r5ETzIKIrSQxPUPbXMQ6gglhKRmrt_X_ZLo2g7m0vrxq7SWIrpobA/s1600/WP_000281.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg0rn5GIumHYtKn-eKruVOZz9Lpgqu069sMJb7eL1vFEEZvB5L8pospWy51BhdVGR4DJm1G2hSWJSCWLYCK8r5ETzIKIrSQxPUPbXMQ6gglhKRmrt_X_ZLo2g7m0vrxq7SWIrpobA/s400/WP_000281.jpg" width="300" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Checking out the action at the RedHawks baseball game</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh3z_rJvMFUhMgYJTRkhGIH8kANXaKuOzVaoBQYbAO0FVnBnBcqV6cx7e7GhnE_hTTaSrQ0HQgUfKFrFzsqH7g4PU2Vb2ulhLSGEPfS8Nj98AaduygK2vFVdSDcTkLnCZ-VR8d3dQ/s1600/WP_000283.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh3z_rJvMFUhMgYJTRkhGIH8kANXaKuOzVaoBQYbAO0FVnBnBcqV6cx7e7GhnE_hTTaSrQ0HQgUfKFrFzsqH7g4PU2Vb2ulhLSGEPfS8Nj98AaduygK2vFVdSDcTkLnCZ-VR8d3dQ/s400/WP_000283.jpg" width="300" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Enjoying a beautiful afternoon in our sweet box seats!</td></tr>
</tbody></table><strong>Going to the movies!</strong> Bam-Bam's first trip to a movie theater to see Cars 2 (The original Cars ranks among his top 3 favorite movies of all time). Great idea, we though, spending some quality family time in the air conditioned comfort of the theater - and we had free movie tickets to use too! Oh, but we were not prepared...<br />
#Epic Failure. That whole "sitting still for more than 10 minutes" thing really took a toll on everyone's patience. Consuming buckets full of buttery popcorn and gallons of Mountain Dew probably didn't help with the energy level either, in hindsight. And where acceptable movie-theater vocal volume = 2, Noah volume = steady 10. Maybe even 11.<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjZ2DcdyoHaYSmLgJWx8dKU-Uzb8CJXe0DpxORrX7G9IpLOFf3UJV8tMgbQGI8i1SvJ8D_sKK1KrU6c2QyIU0YJH7erxVcsa6moToGps-PrE7tPHfDr2BAxW2CqHcCUEpKk_vmhFg/s1600/WP_000297.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjZ2DcdyoHaYSmLgJWx8dKU-Uzb8CJXe0DpxORrX7G9IpLOFf3UJV8tMgbQGI8i1SvJ8D_sKK1KrU6c2QyIU0YJH7erxVcsa6moToGps-PrE7tPHfDr2BAxW2CqHcCUEpKk_vmhFg/s320/WP_000297.jpg" width="240" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Quick pic snapped in the short time he was seated!</td></tr>
</tbody></table><div><span style="font-size: x-large;">"HEY MOM! LOOKIT 'MATER!"</span></div><div><span style="font-size: x-small;">*whispers* "Yeah, buddy, that's awesome, but you have to be quiet so the other people can hear the movie too, ok?"</span></div><div><span style="font-size: x-large;">"OKAAAAAAY!"</span></div><div><span style="font-size: x-small;">"Ok, let's try a little harder. Can you whisper?"</span></div><div><span style="font-size: x-large;">"K, I WHISPERIN' MOM!" </span></div><div><span style="font-size: x-small;">"Noah, seriously. I'm glad you're excited, but I need you to whisper please."</span></div><div><span style="font-size: x-small;"> </span><span style="font-size: x-large;">"OKAAAAAAY!"</span></div><div><span style="font-size: x-small;">*Silence, for 10 whole seconds.</span></div><div><span style="font-size: x-large;">"</span><span style="font-size: x-large;">SEE LIGHTNING 'QUEEN?! YEAH!!"</span></div><br />
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<strong>Hanging out indoors where it's nice and cool...</strong><br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg0cOGyS-gnNBx4JWS-RhKBDm852ZLIELUOwkom0dpS0j8wvB9y2MUXXIAX27NoKV708MIfTvheIewfUO-0PI4hpK-kxFdqIuaGeJKICLk6rqG7THtWpmEnVSFcMq5crmBGWX-Y7A/s1600/WP_000300.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="300" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg0cOGyS-gnNBx4JWS-RhKBDm852ZLIELUOwkom0dpS0j8wvB9y2MUXXIAX27NoKV708MIfTvheIewfUO-0PI4hpK-kxFdqIuaGeJKICLk6rqG7THtWpmEnVSFcMq5crmBGWX-Y7A/s400/WP_000300.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">It's so hot, a guy's just gotta find relief any way he can (settle down, it's just sparkling cider!)</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi1Enw59bBFDTAp7ZmyUXZkocdC-hirBWgvaNwxqf4y_K32ncs0zjWhTn51X8r4YMYfCWLhIrb0A8Uw3tlSYZCKR7SvWJ-x_VBgN4AoWIqwS6FGdmaN5r3ASoGXNPKA7SLJrt9bXw/s1600/WP_000294.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi1Enw59bBFDTAp7ZmyUXZkocdC-hirBWgvaNwxqf4y_K32ncs0zjWhTn51X8r4YMYfCWLhIrb0A8Uw3tlSYZCKR7SvWJ-x_VBgN4AoWIqwS6FGdmaN5r3ASoGXNPKA7SLJrt9bXw/s400/WP_000294.jpg" width="300" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Sometimes you just can't help but try to <em>look </em>hot, when it <em>is </em>hot.</td></tr>
</tbody></table><strong>Taking a dip in the backyard pool...</strong><br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhF3m1NVBsYuTVSu2BVgxLR_gOHfs6YWV8j0jQu6Pnx2bJ451JbvH85lvnHOj7i1YOHhYNz0AerMTswt-faHQqS4F0niFzUjnA2rVNfb6Hoiq3mAgOxIfMkO5dUsolKja0aXZvtvw/s1600/WP_000264.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="300" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhF3m1NVBsYuTVSu2BVgxLR_gOHfs6YWV8j0jQu6Pnx2bJ451JbvH85lvnHOj7i1YOHhYNz0AerMTswt-faHQqS4F0niFzUjnA2rVNfb6Hoiq3mAgOxIfMkO5dUsolKja0aXZvtvw/s400/WP_000264.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><em>Un</em>cool in the pool...</td></tr>
</tbody></table><br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjWL5hv9MXBYwutOELCDeQuO9w2Bc-ZIr85HUUrkgFXCjF-0_yh0K0cKx7DQwHqt7Kmh2aseV7r5K6pr3vyFZqZDO66s_whIa5hR1muIvNgniNL_GlhwOKPoxOkSoV-yzf0P0b8ZA/s1600/WP_000269.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="300" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjWL5hv9MXBYwutOELCDeQuO9w2Bc-ZIr85HUUrkgFXCjF-0_yh0K0cKx7DQwHqt7Kmh2aseV7r5K6pr3vyFZqZDO66s_whIa5hR1muIvNgniNL_GlhwOKPoxOkSoV-yzf0P0b8ZA/s400/WP_000269.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Too cute to be this nerdy already!</td></tr>
</tbody></table><strong>Indulging in delicious summery treats...</strong><br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgQggvX2Iy2Q5Nvp8U1lQ72kb_CPLDq9nzVjtqLAv2b3bP8EPuKGgeB_8PgKwAyG1kE-lY7HhbNyFuaspvRiT8uQj_gQrN0HgWOfqSFT3nnAJqX4zCy6_HI5-Q60peE4zm_fqNL7Q/s1600/IMG_3090.png" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgQggvX2Iy2Q5Nvp8U1lQ72kb_CPLDq9nzVjtqLAv2b3bP8EPuKGgeB_8PgKwAyG1kE-lY7HhbNyFuaspvRiT8uQj_gQrN0HgWOfqSFT3nnAJqX4zCy6_HI5-Q60peE4zm_fqNL7Q/s400/IMG_3090.png" width="266" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Orange Push-Ups... the only reason I tolerate the Schwann's man coming to my <br />
door every Monday night for the other 11 months out of the year!</td></tr>
</tbody></table><strong>And enjoying summer outings...</strong><br />
Monday night was the main event of the summer: the Microsoft Fargo annual company picnic! Every summer , this is a huge and fantastic family-friendly event for the full time employees on the Fargo campus. They have never failed to disappoint, and this year was no different! We were served a huge buffet of burgers & 'dogs for the grownups, mini corndogs and mac & cheese for the kids (errr, for me), chips, corn on the cob, and root beer floats for dessert! After snarfing down a ginormous meal and 6 gallons of water in the 112-degree shelter tent, we headed out to the field to play our butts off.<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi_wFeN-L8uGXjDtaJORRnGmB41-8Ia5RAI2-eSNYU7TgQ3W8jz16QPUx2rANAnPpx5dqWU-TazGA6PDvHVSnKXIPXbtQVy6KWxds8r33ySF1FHl1SwfwRXDn2GXfK6d2xbHaGXfQ/s1600/WP_000302.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="300" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi_wFeN-L8uGXjDtaJORRnGmB41-8Ia5RAI2-eSNYU7TgQ3W8jz16QPUx2rANAnPpx5dqWU-TazGA6PDvHVSnKXIPXbtQVy6KWxds8r33ySF1FHl1SwfwRXDn2GXfK6d2xbHaGXfQ/s400/WP_000302.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Taken out my office window at about 8:30 am, before they blew 'em all up. There's about 2 football fields worth of land that they hold the picnic on -- full of inflatables & fun stuff as far as the eye could see!</td></tr>
</tbody></table><br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiqwO0q7ZFRZySL1XuDpcvpjnh6qbwUC61hENVx0N7KtoQVQNhcOh35RfUNpc-FSCEGNbaMJ5Bg8GjmNrF9L60IIIjEuX4yAp_7l12-Mmr9Wv2WVW6s_LnsaLnh8FmifZU6CcZWZg/s1600/IMG_7761.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="266" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiqwO0q7ZFRZySL1XuDpcvpjnh6qbwUC61hENVx0N7KtoQVQNhcOh35RfUNpc-FSCEGNbaMJ5Bg8GjmNrF9L60IIIjEuX4yAp_7l12-Mmr9Wv2WVW6s_LnsaLnh8FmifZU6CcZWZg/s400/IMG_7761.JPG" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">This was taken at last years' picnic - I forgot to snap one of the whole setup this year! Pretty incredible!</td></tr>
</tbody></table><br />
They had some fun waterslides, a couple kiddie pools, drinking water stations scattered throughout, and a 'misting tent' to keep everyone cooled off in that blazing hot heat. I'm not sure the misting tent was necessary, because there was enough water vapor in the air to make me wish I had developed gills so I could breathe!!<br />
<br />
Ash was mostly out on her own, she found a couple friends from daycare and they were off like the wind to run through the obstacle courses and slide on the giant Wet 'N Wild!<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhbIbQ8FXOT10JOPVEWnsLCEec4IiacZLDQY40O3a-Z3moH7LeIQqAoOK-06Yg9hN-5bSxIpsu0qLwY0RxRzwRQ6P9SYlvbtp11FV2KQke-uHqgozBxIevsiIfsgxUsbkOR6_5IdA/s1600/WP_000306.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="300" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhbIbQ8FXOT10JOPVEWnsLCEec4IiacZLDQY40O3a-Z3moH7LeIQqAoOK-06Yg9hN-5bSxIpsu0qLwY0RxRzwRQ6P9SYlvbtp11FV2KQke-uHqgozBxIevsiIfsgxUsbkOR6_5IdA/s400/WP_000306.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Someone's excited about the big event!</td></tr>
</tbody></table><table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: left; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjwyu2JbwRqGyRmEnXkjhA8Q7vn5yHIGHXs9E3LAVvUMtLxnRc2kuZUABZ67zMO0yplv5WLL47SU0q13xp6Hfhj9PZ5CxiVpilwdDzggTs06XbkouEWmazecU5lI2xBICbP6aduPA/s1600/WP_000308.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjwyu2JbwRqGyRmEnXkjhA8Q7vn5yHIGHXs9E3LAVvUMtLxnRc2kuZUABZ67zMO0yplv5WLL47SU0q13xp6Hfhj9PZ5CxiVpilwdDzggTs06XbkouEWmazecU5lI2xBICbP6aduPA/s400/WP_000308.jpg" width="300" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">The two little buddies Heston & Noah, looking for some trouble.</td></tr>
</tbody></table>Noah's BFF since infancy, Heston, was also at the party. Those two little turkeys didn't slow down for <em>one second, </em>and ran their Mamas ragged chasing after the two little sweaty speed demons. I have no idea how they didn't just drop after playing in those bouncy-castle hotboxes! But their little red faces were all smiles, despite the difficulty they had trying to slide down the slides. The humidity caused their little sweaty legs to slow them down significantly, so they just adapted - by jumping off them instead of sliding! The lil' dudes spent the majority of the evening having a ball in the kiddie pool, getting good 'n muddy while cooling themselves off. And of course, they then topped off the night by throwing massive temper tantrums when it was time to leave.<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjHA0LHpU5yTmEXLcTEXyz0zE4gTguzN2lNsQbA2jEcQ4wJ16LW0bhuIoKP3XeoiANQL080eOncoCRYCLv9keWnCe5n-8VaMhcdhBlf48wMdJhdEo0JTi_IRUU9RfmHwMdtr3ODEw/s1600/WP_000312.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="300" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjHA0LHpU5yTmEXLcTEXyz0zE4gTguzN2lNsQbA2jEcQ4wJ16LW0bhuIoKP3XeoiANQL080eOncoCRYCLv9keWnCe5n-8VaMhcdhBlf48wMdJhdEo0JTi_IRUU9RfmHwMdtr3ODEw/s400/WP_000312.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Our little miss slugger!</td></tr>
</tbody></table><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">Our tough little cowgirl (her nickname: "BadAsh") was feeling quite brave in her little Miss America swimsuit. She jumped right up on that mechanical bull and stayed on for a full 30-ish seconds? It was pretty darn epic... </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><iframe allowfullscreen='allowfullscreen' webkitallowfullscreen='webkitallowfullscreen' mozallowfullscreen='mozallowfullscreen' width='320' height='266' src='https://www.blogger.com/video.g?token=AD6v5dxMCGHiqaP3B7hp1n3vLpnOe0XFkSkOZ-yDny2hxFcZrYFonxncKiH6c9hplQLVW0WUegfHJbxRNCI' class='b-hbp-video b-uploaded' frameborder='0'></iframe></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"></div>Shannahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16081428553651389002noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4107147.post-25240839015124119652011-06-28T23:48:00.003-05:002011-12-20T21:27:33.037-06:00Bam Bam's Wild Ride<div style="text-align: center;"> </div><span style="font-size: large;">"Wonder Pets Flyboat Ride*", huh Mommy? Really? </span><span style="font-size: large;">Gotta be honest with you, I'm skeptical about this. Have you seen this thing? </span><span style="font-size: large;">I mean, the bottom <em>drops out from under you. </em></span><span style="font-size: large;">That's supposed to be FUN? You're kidding me, right? </span><br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgBlgY0riGUviWZXXt5CgeiKu61USTq0bPWSZFVM9afFxKm7Qj2ClYSApA1ysbQVkuino0TKu_BbDlaO47DLrbnQ3VZ90ZtFtWmh0ma6DGo8aPYxlnwqd1EIg0DT8GulAnhj_pdFQ/s1600/IMG_2820.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="height: 420px; margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em; width: 328px;"><img border="0" height="400" i$="true" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgBlgY0riGUviWZXXt5CgeiKu61USTq0bPWSZFVM9afFxKm7Qj2ClYSApA1ysbQVkuino0TKu_BbDlaO47DLrbnQ3VZ90ZtFtWmh0ma6DGo8aPYxlnwqd1EIg0DT8GulAnhj_pdFQ/s400/IMG_2820.JPG" width="265" /></a></div><div style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none;"><span style="font-size: large;"></span> </div><div class="separator" style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none; clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgePWtDSndBMezy_mVTRGrzgjOw_u32Ycfcfl2H5Kqa6CbbJAq0IrICfc_zuxC42tF6uXE9Y7Izjs09sxzP-ikoWZKKsJEdjSLtcfMDpA-hRtu2EKKlTzXhIQz1JRGl0hl9w_9PEA/s1600/IMG_2823.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; cssfloat: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" height="266" i$="true" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgePWtDSndBMezy_mVTRGrzgjOw_u32Ycfcfl2H5Kqa6CbbJAq0IrICfc_zuxC42tF6uXE9Y7Izjs09sxzP-ikoWZKKsJEdjSLtcfMDpA-hRtu2EKKlTzXhIQz1JRGl0hl9w_9PEA/s400/IMG_2823.JPG" width="400" /></a></div><div style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none;"><br />
<span style="font-size: large;">Seriously! I'm only two... this can't possibly be how it ends for me. Can someone point me to the exit? Anyone?</span></div><div style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none;"><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;">How about you looky-loos over here? Can you help a brotha' out? What's so funny, you've never seen a kid have a panic attack before? </span><span style="font-size: large;"></span></div><div style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none;"><br />
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</div><div class="separator" style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none; clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi4ennWuX_gw8rTRmBi0J3CY4n06rqJnSxOUlX_oxo5H5dZwjNZ6NEzh-YJcvaz88h4KDaqa6f6lem5j4ebAF3g6SxlzQu4lXo4OlXfTyeihon4QmyspjKdNK4HnAiPZFXAMo-OjA/s1600/IMG_2824.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; cssfloat: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" height="266" i$="true" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi4ennWuX_gw8rTRmBi0J3CY4n06rqJnSxOUlX_oxo5H5dZwjNZ6NEzh-YJcvaz88h4KDaqa6f6lem5j4ebAF3g6SxlzQu4lXo4OlXfTyeihon4QmyspjKdNK4HnAiPZFXAMo-OjA/s400/IMG_2824.JPG" width="400" /></a></div><div style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none;"><br />
<span style="font-size: large;">For the love of petunias, Mother, would you <em>stop</em> with that dumb camera and RESCUE ME?! Grandma? Daddy? Sissy? Hellooooo!!! THIS IS STRESSING ME OUT!!</span></div><div style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none;"><br />
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</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEirmA68irXnvEPnhjRdyVzdhrs4Fsj4SJcr9XQdPIvTbaxJgX4SuSYDzvc_y_KHI8GrsV8SztbeVHKvDos3mlC1lTil1k4CvktOGflAD-umIKihaAeHf1P_wCSerMD6DBkYafEfUg/s1600/IMG_2825.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="266" i$="true" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEirmA68irXnvEPnhjRdyVzdhrs4Fsj4SJcr9XQdPIvTbaxJgX4SuSYDzvc_y_KHI8GrsV8SztbeVHKvDos3mlC1lTil1k4CvktOGflAD-umIKihaAeHf1P_wCSerMD6DBkYafEfUg/s400/IMG_2825.JPG" width="400" /></a></div><div style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none;"><span style="font-size: large;">Sheesh. I give up. You people are sick.</span></div><div style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none;"><br />
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</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEghxuZfh0SgmCUUdMT-6OZOUMXFz0xOs-Kg_g-shg8Lde5_C9h-_a3yllyt8aOlioidx3gPOIBnBkQ5zXyMliK3pSjog3LMoGW3GPXuoL1nLeacKg44dFGsA0aH63xpKhN97ItATw/s1600/IMG_2827.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="266" i$="true" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEghxuZfh0SgmCUUdMT-6OZOUMXFz0xOs-Kg_g-shg8Lde5_C9h-_a3yllyt8aOlioidx3gPOIBnBkQ5zXyMliK3pSjog3LMoGW3GPXuoL1nLeacKg44dFGsA0aH63xpKhN97ItATw/s400/IMG_2827.JPG" width="400" /></a></div><div style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none;"><span style="font-size: large;">Guess I might as well give in and enjoy the ride. Good thing I'm already wearing a diaper...</span></div><div style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none;"><br />
</div><div style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none;">(*from our latest trip to the Mall of America's "Nickelodeon Universe". Stay tuned for more stories about our weekend adventure in the Twin Cities)</div>Shannahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16081428553651389002noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4107147.post-24365117290366056072011-06-16T22:53:00.008-05:002011-12-20T21:27:46.515-06:00MOTIVATION, WHERE ART THOU?<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"></div><div style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none;"><div style="text-align: center;"> </div>Well, looky here. It's the one-month anniversary of my last blog post. *embarrassed grin*</div><div style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none;"><br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjU5bWh-AhjoueMMBnzn7aXmMbajYlXMoZlbulR5NN1xfSRQMGewI3cuC5SJJyi3020p22vQj7livPlo4r2-d0C_6f2xmZjqC0nmmLemwoUcPnlt4Z7-AGNKsTBjrjvLoqq9uxVXA/s1600/IMG_2327.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="266" i$="true" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjU5bWh-AhjoueMMBnzn7aXmMbajYlXMoZlbulR5NN1xfSRQMGewI3cuC5SJJyi3020p22vQj7livPlo4r2-d0C_6f2xmZjqC0nmmLemwoUcPnlt4Z7-AGNKsTBjrjvLoqq9uxVXA/s400/IMG_2327.JPG" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Hmmm. Yes, mother, I see you have been slacking off lately... do you need a time out?</td></tr>
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<div style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none;"><br />
</div><div style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none;">Guess I've been a little busy lately. Correction: I've been a lot busy and a little lazy lately. After the month we've had, I'm pretty sure I don't have the energy to take out the garbage, let alone get moving on that massive list of summer projects we've got in store. The crummy weather (this is <em>not </em>summer, Mother Nature, you mean old bag!) is not helping matters either. I need that elusive Motivation Fairy my friend Kim was looking for… WHERE YOU AT, YOU CRAZY FAIRY!?</div><div style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none;"><br />
</div><div style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none;">Can't I just crash on the couch and watch that entire season of Modern Family I've got DVR'd instead? </div><div style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none;"><br />
</div>We've had a crazy few weeks. Let me give ya a quick rundown of the past month:<br />
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1) Dishwasher clogs mid-cycle. Husband pulls dishwasher from it's hole in the wall to fix clog, hose snaps, 5 gallons of disgusting dishwater gushes through the floor and out through the basement ceiling, onto the sectional and carpet in the family room. Wife (nearly) barfs. Husband buys wife brand new replacement dishwasher, appliance installer breaks kitchen sink drain while installing, wife pays plumber to fix sink.<br />
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Wife stocks up on ramen noodles for family to eat for the remainder of the summer.<br />
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2) Wife takes daughter and 4 of her 5-year-old friends to Wahpeton Zoo for Preschool field trip. Wife loves daughter, thanks the good Lord that she only has one...<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj_wjEJjXQt8p0qJcb8YdOgq_Z4yN9hDzwi1GrMooFw4lZ1nz5WKRnqgKr1don7q9jDEI_5nZA4jSn438qQ9Og9AxhypkhNeVASHDg9n_EO5OvmI-vW20nfkJJMKd6XJEg7dOxu3g/s1600/IMG_2135.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="266" i$="true" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj_wjEJjXQt8p0qJcb8YdOgq_Z4yN9hDzwi1GrMooFw4lZ1nz5WKRnqgKr1don7q9jDEI_5nZA4jSn438qQ9Og9AxhypkhNeVASHDg9n_EO5OvmI-vW20nfkJJMKd6XJEg7dOxu3g/s400/IMG_2135.JPG" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">The whole preschool class. There are only 21 of 'em, but they have the energy of 61.</td></tr>
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3) Daughter graduates from preschool! Husband makes fun of Wife, who cries when Daughter sings "The Wheels on the Bus" at the ceremony. Wife thinks it was kismet that Daughter later accidentally dumped a half-bottle of syrup in Husband's lap during graduation celebratory brunch.<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiRLZ5mjrUrnhbspAWoiDwmhTUMdwzbHd0im02cjQNA_4MA-q2pSw03Mq3y0mGp872IQTJYoOq6LeoRCCK4te6swenlLGVG39NCjUcmNfoIV5eWFH4lRqLKqp95-vKD_pViVCOlGg/s1600/IMG_2297.png" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="400" i$="true" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiRLZ5mjrUrnhbspAWoiDwmhTUMdwzbHd0im02cjQNA_4MA-q2pSw03Mq3y0mGp872IQTJYoOq6LeoRCCK4te6swenlLGVG39NCjUcmNfoIV5eWFH4lRqLKqp95-vKD_pViVCOlGg/s400/IMG_2297.png" width="266" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">The Preschool Graduate! Look out Kindergarten, here she comes!</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEim-xUOMJXiSleJq9tF2LL8AbAGDJzQd4-P3TNrRsaeD5ZxAGXwroQLgFbTnUatMBRdlcg5VLKR1_IZy3Ld3ayjXVOjIiHb2WcDpmMHYLjIyRfI4IEHcPHAqejkdL5ctxobju8A0A/s1600/IMG_2316.png" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="400" i$="true" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEim-xUOMJXiSleJq9tF2LL8AbAGDJzQd4-P3TNrRsaeD5ZxAGXwroQLgFbTnUatMBRdlcg5VLKR1_IZy3Ld3ayjXVOjIiHb2WcDpmMHYLjIyRfI4IEHcPHAqejkdL5ctxobju8A0A/s400/IMG_2316.png" width="266" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">My grown-up little princess</td></tr>
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4) Wife complains of broken fence posts in backyard, dog escapes regularly. Husband hires fence dude to repair broken posts. Wife writes check.<br />
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Wind blows, rains fall. Fence breaks again. Husband cries silent tears while he & wife & brother-in-law bail water out of sump pit during 6-hour power outage.<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg6q4bDyKrbfRYYltTx_6ikypHA5wQ5p0rIKejt1F4zUx_iw73QjAMUUVayhSNfppGOfoFg682ZQw567FbBIpPbTLBOksguRca51MFPs_qZg0mef9nZxk27KW-vYmg5dAGShXqc1Q/s1600/IMG_2466.png" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="400" i$="true" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg6q4bDyKrbfRYYltTx_6ikypHA5wQ5p0rIKejt1F4zUx_iw73QjAMUUVayhSNfppGOfoFg682ZQw567FbBIpPbTLBOksguRca51MFPs_qZg0mef9nZxk27KW-vYmg5dAGShXqc1Q/s400/IMG_2466.png" width="266" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Fence-tastrophie.</td></tr>
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Husband calls fence guy back, fence guy repairs the remainder of the fence he already fixed once, wife writes another check.<br />
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Wife considers selling eldest child on black market to pay for home repairs.<br />
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5) Wife decides 'tis high time to work harder at potty-training Son. Son pees on floor instantly, laughs maniacally. Wife sends Husband out to buy more diapers.<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiFfFz4Wg5vFEcEPHzWKntn__Y5GIcYsyfexfDh0SSMobAUiiJtyhyphenhyphenpnEE93pGwqP-dIOuYzXm1hNlzcZk9m6i2mK6r0cod0IqQsCgmhznKk2y-AJAW5GXu9oZYo8ZyfgKHrTj-YA/s1600/WP_000201.png" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="400" i$="true" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiFfFz4Wg5vFEcEPHzWKntn__Y5GIcYsyfexfDh0SSMobAUiiJtyhyphenhyphenpnEE93pGwqP-dIOuYzXm1hNlzcZk9m6i2mK6r0cod0IqQsCgmhznKk2y-AJAW5GXu9oZYo8ZyfgKHrTj-YA/s400/WP_000201.png" width="266" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">His Highness, King PeePee Pants, atop his throne.</td></tr>
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6) Family takes 8-hour trip across the state. Children are well behaved, for the first time ever, thanks to new minivan, family-sized boxes of fruit snacks, and dual DVD players sent from Heaven. Wife decides against black market sale of children. Trip is awesome, family spends quality time with relatives, fun is had by all. Family decides a return trip in August is in order.<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg2JZq0PM-V0FzZQDoUQjfeZwyQR8XxRj-mPfxGVh22oqcc8NuxSHYIE9h_Rs904iY3_ozIfd0_DWEwQwXziDB7rN76w3e1X4WVO8xtc3bO58L09n2C76oQ-rlhCERkiRhlXhJxEw/s1600/WP_000222.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="266" i$="true" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg2JZq0PM-V0FzZQDoUQjfeZwyQR8XxRj-mPfxGVh22oqcc8NuxSHYIE9h_Rs904iY3_ozIfd0_DWEwQwXziDB7rN76w3e1X4WVO8xtc3bO58L09n2C76oQ-rlhCERkiRhlXhJxEw/s400/WP_000222.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Double-sleepers! This has in all seriousness NEVER happened before!!</td></tr>
</tbody></table><br />
7) Wife decides more logical way to raise some home-improvement funds is to sell some of the massive amounts of unused junk which was slowly and steadily taking over family's home. Wife tags, folds, sorts & displays truckloads of stuff for garage sale. <br />
<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjGYDCzl9MbI_BQs1YX2fGgQay19MjhUlZTqz3j-ARR1Q2Ix7-OA8VtILgmLraxWMQ7oXlqucr9rzdqj9Dg1mp2uoTzYVXE6W7KguUTYwpvZpwLg440l9Zw3xxMsBlEfoLYfLP4Cg/s1600/IMG_2277.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="266" i$="true" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjGYDCzl9MbI_BQs1YX2fGgQay19MjhUlZTqz3j-ARR1Q2Ix7-OA8VtILgmLraxWMQ7oXlqucr9rzdqj9Dg1mp2uoTzYVXE6W7KguUTYwpvZpwLg440l9Zw3xxMsBlEfoLYfLP4Cg/s400/IMG_2277.JPG" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Holy crap. And to think I just had one of these a year ago. Why do we have this much stuff!!?</td></tr>
</tbody></table><br />
Grandma comes up to help out, contributes home-baked treats to Granddaughter's business venture. Granddaughter sells $52 worth of cookies, Rice Krispy bars and lemonade. Wife sells $650 worth of random crap. Wife rethinks marketing strategy for next sale: adorable, precocious 5-year-olds move merchandise (and if they flash their blue eyes and dimples, might receive a $5 for a $0.50 item with no expectation for change returned.) <br />
<br />
<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiPFQvCnCxDL01u70KnDVeH9GWCPCZvcsgZWFPVDNf4WsOaOMwNyURORnMhrnM2WyQ5s_C6wVwVwiETnnNc2fABVKXBggrJ_onl5qGS-ApG0j_QCvNu9cagLH9ESHur0pYrUc_FAg/s1600/WP_000231.png" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="400" i$="true" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiPFQvCnCxDL01u70KnDVeH9GWCPCZvcsgZWFPVDNf4WsOaOMwNyURORnMhrnM2WyQ5s_C6wVwVwiETnnNc2fABVKXBggrJ_onl5qGS-ApG0j_QCvNu9cagLH9ESHur0pYrUc_FAg/s400/WP_000231.png" width="265" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">The wee entrepreneur, calculating her capital gains taxes... <br />
or writing "<heart>*heart* Justin Bieber" on her notebook, one of the two.</td></tr>
</tbody></table> <br />
8) Husband & Wife celebrate 8th Wedding Anniversary at Cork & Cleaver ("Booze & Beef") while Grandma babysits. We had a lovely kid-free evening and enjoyed some delicious food. We realized we don't get out much when we both yawned at 8:00 and asked each other "ehh, should we just go back home?" We did just that, and made it through 1/2 episode of Pawn Stars before we both fell asleep on our respective recliners. It was a blissful celebration. <br />
<br />
<br />
So here I sit, looking ahead at our family calendar for the next few weeks, and realize I best get my hiney in gear, or this house is gonna fall clean apart before the school year starts. (School year!? OMG!! That is not happening…) The summer is 1/3 over and I have yet to do any house cleaning, let alone yard work, bike riding, or swimming... and that is just not cool. So my Motivation Fairy? A 6'3" 280-lb Nordic-looking blond dude (that one I've been married to for 8 years). He has a lovable way of simultaneously kicking my ass while patting me on the back. That coachs' training is sure coming in handy. I have high hopes for getting some weeds pulled this weekend, and some busted-up pavers removed, but mother nature and the little gnomes that clutter up my kitchen might just have other plans.<br />
<div style="text-align: left;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: left;">Onward & upward! I'm off to nurse this lovely summer sinus infection I've contracted (probably as some sort of punishment for my lazy behavior). Yippee. Happy Summer!! <em>If </em>it ever gets here, that is.</div>Shannahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16081428553651389002noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4107147.post-90053058742774298932011-05-16T22:21:00.005-05:002011-12-20T21:28:01.606-06:00Bedtime with Bam Bam<div style="text-align: center;"> </div>Once upon a time there was a little boy who loved to sleep. He would <em>voluntarily </em>take 3-4 hour naps during the weekend, and slept 10 hours a night from the age of 3 months. The little boy slept much like a hamster does, all tucked up into the corner of his crib, and he hated to be taken out of it. In fact, had he been given the option, we all believe he'd have preferred to spend the majority of his days curled into a little baby pile in his snug, cozy bed, napping the day away. <br />
<br />
Well that sleepy little boy has now graduated to a 'big boy bed'. He misses the crib because it was his favorite snuggly snoozing spot. Mommy misses the crib because it was a humane and socially acceptable method of caging him. You see, our little Nighttime Ninja has recently figured out how to open his bedroom door, and can't stand being away from the action when everyone else in the house is still awake. So he stealthily slips out of bed so he can sneak away to sleep in random places all over the house and give his mother a nightly panic attack when she finds him MIA from said bed. <br />
<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhHY69_oKSCI-tL89Ee7t0CS61HvhB2uuPOMcyr1BqSnO82UY8F7q65QlWpo9yGICO9CWY1n7s910dvZhMuHEft0WdUxuE1tHVr_jCwkwsVFvxR8f0oSv7p43Es09ogdkAll9H92w/s1600/IMG_1475.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="266" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhHY69_oKSCI-tL89Ee7t0CS61HvhB2uuPOMcyr1BqSnO82UY8F7q65QlWpo9yGICO9CWY1n7s910dvZhMuHEft0WdUxuE1tHVr_jCwkwsVFvxR8f0oSv7p43Es09ogdkAll9H92w/s400/IMG_1475.JPG" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">His second favorite place to nap, the rocker-recliner in his room. <br />
Lately, he's been sneaking out of bed so he can sleep on the chair.</td></tr>
</tbody></table><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"></div>Still, it's one of my top 5 favorite things on Earth putting this kid to bed every night. We read a variety of his favorite books, all of which he has completely memorized, and he makes sure I don't skip one single page. No matter how hard I try to sneak a new book into the mix to preserve my sanity, we work with the same library every single night: "Mr. Brown Can Moo, Can You?", "Goodnight Moon", "Don't Touch My Hat!", "Leonardo the Terrible Monster" and "The Pigeon Finds a Hot Dog" are this month's favorites.<br />
<br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhsGhafiCTtF6YrUhNXBnYlhUfo5Iog0gVDBpLl6PF1b5Cf1CFvQnZsIeyGdWQ9RKQDKl237V7dhAnsW40WNEumgUgY4BfaWemQ-DzT-JroT0iANekJOGCYYEgqORY8oUxgWHzN8Q/s1600/IMG_1726.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="266" i$="true" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhsGhafiCTtF6YrUhNXBnYlhUfo5Iog0gVDBpLl6PF1b5Cf1CFvQnZsIeyGdWQ9RKQDKl237V7dhAnsW40WNEumgUgY4BfaWemQ-DzT-JroT0iANekJOGCYYEgqORY8oUxgWHzN8Q/s400/IMG_1726.JPG" width="400" /></a></div><br />
We finish our story and then it's rockabye time... he burrows down in the crook of my arm like he's done since he was 2 minutes old, pops Stinky (his grody old raggy yellow blanket) into his mouth, and settles in for some quality rockin' time. For the past couple months, our conversation at this point goes exactly like this:<br />
<br />
He points up at me, grinning, commanding, "Sing, Mama!" <br />
<br />
"Ok, buddy, what should I sing?"<br />
<br />
"Ummmmmmm..." [C'mon dude, I already know what you're gonna say, you don't have to pretend like you're thinking so hard about your song selection.] "Woody Roundoff!" <br />
<br />
He means "Woody's Roundup" from Toy Story 2. There's some yodeling involved, and horse whinnying, and of course a big, drawn-out finish. He giggles every. Single. Time. From there, he gives the orders in terms of the playlist, but it almost always goes like this: "Tinkle Tinkle Tar", "Ho Ho Ho" ('Up on The Housetop', yeah, I'm aware it's May: he's not), "Brudder John", "Rocka Baby" and "Bunny Foo Foo". We may throw in "Over In the Meadow" or "Itsy Bitsy Spider" once in awhile for variety. But if he's not satisfied with my performance, he <em>will </em>stop me in the middle of it by clapping his hand over my mouth and saying, "no sing dat Mama".<br />
<br />
Then I get the best reward ever for reading the same books and singing the same songs to him every night: "I lub you Mama". Followed by a hug and a kiss before his big green eyes become heavy with sleep, and I tuck he & Stinky under the blankets. Recently we've added about 1200 other friends to this part of the routine, like the entire cast of Toy Story, half his farm set, 3 emergency rescue vehicles, a book or two, and a backup blanket, in case Stinky gets lost or... less smelly... or whatever. One more kiss and a "ni-night, see-a later!" and he's down for the count.<br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi6CNUhLkyKup38B1aWqAY0hT8KtHK-3QHvLtVhgcKZ9DBN7LpVY4FNiEiS0GrpekG2BMNGSvIQYcR9MS5Ymy2T9qOh4pdtycaj18q5NyFbnuJQlJpRs4Ayak7amN2Rkwo_UFJ7og/s1600/IMG_1671.png" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi6CNUhLkyKup38B1aWqAY0hT8KtHK-3QHvLtVhgcKZ9DBN7LpVY4FNiEiS0GrpekG2BMNGSvIQYcR9MS5Ymy2T9qOh4pdtycaj18q5NyFbnuJQlJpRs4Ayak7amN2Rkwo_UFJ7og/s400/IMG_1671.png" width="266" /></a></div><br />
I turn out the light, and shut the door... and relish the moment. Because I know it's fleeting. I know these sweet nights are numbered. It won't be long before my little man won't want to rockabye anymore. Soon he won't think it's hilarious when I sing the 'Good Fairy' part in a high-pitched fairy godmother tone. Soon he will want to read all those books all by himself. Soon he won't want me to tuck him in, and Stinky and the Toy Platoon will be distant memories. Soon I'll worry about him wandering about the town instead of wandering about the house. But until those days come, I'm going to cherish every giggle, every song lyric, every word of those books I've read 14,326 times, every goodnight kiss. Cuz I "lub you" too, buddy.<br />
<br />
And I know you'll live happily ever after.Shannahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16081428553651389002noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4107147.post-71704953575339003432011-05-02T23:49:00.005-05:002011-12-20T21:28:22.791-06:00Fantastic Five<div style="text-align: center;"> </div>I've tried. Lord knows, I've tried. For 2+ days I've sat down and tried to write down how I feel about my baby girl turning five. And every time I tried, I cried. Bawled. Like a big fat wussypants. I just don't think there are enough words, and I'll never get the right combination, to explain just how I feel about my daughter. But I'm working on it: Jordan and I decided a few months ago that we would like to start a new birthday tradition for the kids. We will hand-write letters to our children on their birthdays every year... they may throw them out or they may keep them forever but that way they'll always have at the very least a yearly personal reminder of how much their Mom & Dad love them!<br />
<br />
So since I'm feeling a bit emotion-aaaaaaallll over my baby turning five, I thought I'd tell you a little bit about our super-fun girls' day out today instead! Within the last year or so, Asha & I have started having "girl's day" outings, so we decided to do a really huge one for her big #5. I took the day off work, she took the day "off" daycare... and away we went! We started our morning bright and early -- somebody was a little excited at 6 am and woke up the whole household -- with a birthday bagel (hey, gimme a break, the cake masterpiece is coming this weekend!) The kids spent the next 30 minutes trying to set off the smoke alarms by making me light & relight the candles so they could take turns<strike> spitting on them </strike> blowing them out. She's so sweet to share with her little bro!<br />
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<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi62rAi8-ZEX3rg5ZKJx5D5uaYRoaPQ3GaTIi-pSoInnUi-wdoLwQLcLVGY8J5uT9wJPjo4dDc9PeJamghJPrGKhzRr05Q4MPVnlXCLsmzIClYxIbozARyfqNVo5CRrjgOvGdJZsA/s1600/IMG_1757.png" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="400" j8="true" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi62rAi8-ZEX3rg5ZKJx5D5uaYRoaPQ3GaTIi-pSoInnUi-wdoLwQLcLVGY8J5uT9wJPjo4dDc9PeJamghJPrGKhzRr05Q4MPVnlXCLsmzIClYxIbozARyfqNVo5CRrjgOvGdJZsA/s400/IMG_1757.png" width="266" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Happy Fifth Birthday, Sweet Girl!</td></tr>
</tbody></table><br />
At 9:00, we headed to the salon for our mani-pedis. We shot the breeze as the ladies did up our fingernails (red with green & yellow hearts for Ash, pink for Mom) and relaxed a bit while they did our toenails (Moms' matched, Asha went for purple). <br />
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<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgGeBQFZHJX8Q-HipD6P_GKT-qjMa6zyxKffB2HuAl164dTt-TJreY-2YTCMxJvSkTPSbgHwKt_qdAaMKhxPTtQmGfM0twVeHcJ67kQKchTbFQK3bKi_RcgO5IeIccdwW78zNKayw/s1600/90.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="400" j8="true" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgGeBQFZHJX8Q-HipD6P_GKT-qjMa6zyxKffB2HuAl164dTt-TJreY-2YTCMxJvSkTPSbgHwKt_qdAaMKhxPTtQmGfM0twVeHcJ67kQKchTbFQK3bKi_RcgO5IeIccdwW78zNKayw/s400/90.jpg" width="300" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Soaking in the spa jets</td></tr>
</tbody></table><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgQYPa6Od-KqA9cWLpy7Bffm7k4oS3kv1IF9SGOm0tLqcL45XStufilWl71M9nveE1Qpx6jgR3Zz_PDIPksosH9BenDKH_YO8ZbCloH79lO8m1Exx-fiCQh93Zp1hYxwlr8QBfHPQ/s1600/94.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="400" j8="true" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgQYPa6Od-KqA9cWLpy7Bffm7k4oS3kv1IF9SGOm0tLqcL45XStufilWl71M9nveE1Qpx6jgR3Zz_PDIPksosH9BenDKH_YO8ZbCloH79lO8m1Exx-fiCQh93Zp1hYxwlr8QBfHPQ/s400/94.jpg" width="300" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Showing off her fancy nails</td></tr>
</tbody></table>After our nails dried, we headed to our next stop -- a massage! Asha had been begging for a massage for ages, so I did some searching and found somone who turned out to be the absolute coolest massage therapist! She adored Asha, and pampered her a bit -- taped to the floor right under the face hole on the massage table, was a bright yellow balloon with "Happy 5th Birthday Asha" written on it. Ash loved every minute of her massage, and even fell asleep as the therapist was massaging her neck. Snored like a buzzsaw, so we knew she was perfectly relaxed!<br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhrFr45z0izephlVhjFxbtqdionzaIe7lsQ2ct2IaFJ_sfPiXirlz-trviloOg5AXVEeDcV1EfuGHlEPgTy1-VdlV4C2bvRAIU3EzmZhV95CXbCA0CJ0SSTwI7rxv8mfImJ6S5r6A/s1600/96.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="300" j8="true" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhrFr45z0izephlVhjFxbtqdionzaIe7lsQ2ct2IaFJ_sfPiXirlz-trviloOg5AXVEeDcV1EfuGHlEPgTy1-VdlV4C2bvRAIU3EzmZhV95CXbCA0CJ0SSTwI7rxv8mfImJ6S5r6A/s400/96.jpg" width="400" /></a></div><br />
After all that pampering, we were starving! Of all the restaurants in all of the F-M area, Asha chose... you guessed it, Chuck E Cheese. Yay. Okay, it actually wasn't a total zoo at noon on a Monday afternoon, so it wasn't nearly as horrible as I'd anticipated. In fact, we had ourselves a darn fun time!<br />
<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiQ01Jg8MKch9fDDijknSbO4HIwQRRH06fxYm2IsHvJoUQMiHbpU84nK1CerImPVmBbQHA7vdMlP1Y75UsV1BIZ5V6YwCaQQFb5vKR6r6owD3siiY-aHQFHx_vRZ6chC98dTfNcLg/s1600/9a.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="400" j8="true" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiQ01Jg8MKch9fDDijknSbO4HIwQRRH06fxYm2IsHvJoUQMiHbpU84nK1CerImPVmBbQHA7vdMlP1Y75UsV1BIZ5V6YwCaQQFb5vKR6r6owD3siiY-aHQFHx_vRZ6chC98dTfNcLg/s400/9a.jpg" width="300" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Mom & Asha at Birthday Lunch</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjIhT5q1PigFIVAe25yfU04Zvr35jaJPxXzECWZ3u7ZOFeg7Q0My6-K38P3dbMK70Ut5tVaIplFf7MC8g2_708cu9P2EhZdLNont_lwklV6eajlFR29_MAx6tzg-hMUQOVBOUYeAQ/s1600/9b.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="400" j8="true" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjIhT5q1PigFIVAe25yfU04Zvr35jaJPxXzECWZ3u7ZOFeg7Q0My6-K38P3dbMK70Ut5tVaIplFf7MC8g2_708cu9P2EhZdLNont_lwklV6eajlFR29_MAx6tzg-hMUQOVBOUYeAQ/s400/9b.jpg" width="300" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Gangstas, sippin' on gin & juice... wait, no, that was Orange Crush.</td></tr>
</tbody></table><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh7y5MNuZCknZ-phCdMN26cpxkZimwENyFGeQjdND0a5lFrZNSBJIRly4JF75cdtabN6Jq8GWU4U8BUkrnFYSpPEb5rdoOc-p8FmPoAMjEjBwGTjBAdbTEABp2cPsvrLqydAKN1vQ/s1600/9c.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="400" j8="true" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh7y5MNuZCknZ-phCdMN26cpxkZimwENyFGeQjdND0a5lFrZNSBJIRly4JF75cdtabN6Jq8GWU4U8BUkrnFYSpPEb5rdoOc-p8FmPoAMjEjBwGTjBAdbTEABp2cPsvrLqydAKN1vQ/s400/9c.jpg" width="300" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Mom gets a smooch from the Birthday girl!</td></tr>
</tbody></table>Then came the big moment. A trip to the mall. To do something she'd been begging to do for 2 years....<br />
<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi5WXt3bP0kxtTHXKEMNgPXviIlJpyIz8jvUrwDzYqXdcoMTwAn7_vULafkZQijCEf3teDw8AxVTGud0EfI1Go0wFl9FrNWnGenbe6brNoMnrDiqvbh0TM8RgLivlz6kAgtqyLGpg/s1600/a4.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="300" j8="true" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi5WXt3bP0kxtTHXKEMNgPXviIlJpyIz8jvUrwDzYqXdcoMTwAn7_vULafkZQijCEf3teDw8AxVTGud0EfI1Go0wFl9FrNWnGenbe6brNoMnrDiqvbh0TM8RgLivlz6kAgtqyLGpg/s400/a4.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Anxiously awaiting the big deal!</td></tr>
</tbody></table>EAR PIERCING! (aaaaaack! Mom shreiks in horror! Not my baby's innocent earlobes!!) Ok, no it wasn't that bad at all. In fact, my little Viking Princess didn't flinch, didn't even so much as blink an eye when they did the piercing. What a rock star!<br />
<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjAjRpGClDaBvYWUvRKIwhYO1YTcVe0hyMe9Gg3tczIsxoJGoG6TJhlNwmOfsvuYEZD6SrxtrXynOtJfowmUlz_jwSGzU_51opdtG4Vjf2QFjkKj01eedmwsYn4i8yhWm-vw-jlXw/s1600/a7.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="300" j8="true" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjAjRpGClDaBvYWUvRKIwhYO1YTcVe0hyMe9Gg3tczIsxoJGoG6TJhlNwmOfsvuYEZD6SrxtrXynOtJfowmUlz_jwSGzU_51opdtG4Vjf2QFjkKj01eedmwsYn4i8yhWm-vw-jlXw/s400/a7.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Sitting perfectly still as they measured her ears</td></tr>
</tbody></table>She chose these adorable little pink sparkly studs, and told me she's "never, ever taking them out. Not when I go to Kindergarten, not when I go to High School, not when I go to college, not when I get married..." Yeah, you get the picture. She liked them. I got the actual piercing on video, y'know, for a keepsake or whatever. It makes me queasy to watch it, but Ash has watched it 73 times since we returned home this afternoon.<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh9zETA9Z8rB24m4Pw5TxH4OR3kSXSP3kybi3SQQ_1xuVJPpjnenRJZkdppNJ58NamzL1knVsRnLyHIuOxCP3xjGhelMxaoYthDMzWDU8vwB9JrvzYQDso9hK_HYifS-IXca2gS_Q/s1600/ab.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="300" j8="true" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh9zETA9Z8rB24m4Pw5TxH4OR3kSXSP3kybi3SQQ_1xuVJPpjnenRJZkdppNJ58NamzL1knVsRnLyHIuOxCP3xjGhelMxaoYthDMzWDU8vwB9JrvzYQDso9hK_HYifS-IXca2gS_Q/s400/ab.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">All smiles, no tears! She showed them off to every random stranger we walked past in the mall!</td></tr>
</tbody></table>We followed up our big piercing event with a smoothie (her fave), and headed back home. I popped in her new "Tangled" movie, and made it about 4 minutes in before I crashed. Asha made it probably 7 minutes in before she passed out too (just guessing) and we napped almost until the boys got home! <br />
<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgCJbTaREFyLKy7v6RTKoBCITuDrj5u7-1OxnXwP7RJxYJXTm_J1ypmDInfsmPlDmYpEGfNzANZT6KrSt0dSk7ErzPQh6PkEovagwF8S18qxyZtdRvTqO0an9Du9hj7IyfzqhSYvQ/s1600/ae.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="400" j8="true" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgCJbTaREFyLKy7v6RTKoBCITuDrj5u7-1OxnXwP7RJxYJXTm_J1ypmDInfsmPlDmYpEGfNzANZT6KrSt0dSk7ErzPQh6PkEovagwF8S18qxyZtdRvTqO0an9Du9hj7IyfzqhSYvQ/s400/ae.jpg" width="300" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">That just does not look comfy</td></tr>
</tbody></table>And that was pretty much our big day. It may not sound like much to the casual observer, but it was probably the most special day we've ever shared, not counting our very first day spent together five years ago. We ended the night with a bedtime story about what went on the day she was born (she loves that tale!) and a little snuggling before she drifted off to sleep, one year older, one year wiser, one year more wonderful.<br />
<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiVLCHyvinMf5k5HSgsyt71-8kqmpDTTs782ctChWoKYf4D8fXrWe4uznfT7ScCkaCBSXXxaOjzEGe52tdFULjMqG0gf-ZDRp6q4_5mcz_yBhvQ58kMtIrlt2R0Tv6IN7uYf72NLA/s1600/MVC-002S.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="240" j8="true" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiVLCHyvinMf5k5HSgsyt71-8kqmpDTTs782ctChWoKYf4D8fXrWe4uznfT7ScCkaCBSXXxaOjzEGe52tdFULjMqG0gf-ZDRp6q4_5mcz_yBhvQ58kMtIrlt2R0Tv6IN7uYf72NLA/s320/MVC-002S.JPG" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Taken on our very first "girl's day" - May 2, 2006</td></tr>
</tbody></table>My beautiful little girl, whose name means "Life" and "Hope" - you have certainly given me new life, full of hope and joy beyond my wildest imagination. I love everything about you. I love your big blue eyes, your sunny smile that reveals those charming dimples, your sharp wit and spot-on comic timing, your perceptive views, your effervescent giggle, your brave character, your cheerful demeanor, your endless hugs, your boundless energy, your compassionate spirit, your sensitive heart, and your beautiful grown-up soul in a child's body. Thank you for letting me share this day with you, and thank you for being my delightful daughter. <br />
<br />
I hope you had a Fantastic Five, baby girl. Mommy loves you, today and forever!Shannahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16081428553651389002noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4107147.post-56255325601794829022011-04-23T22:45:00.010-05:002011-12-20T21:28:52.173-06:00Not-so-terrible two<div style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: "Helvetica Neue", Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><strong><span style="font-size: large;">Boy, Oh Boy, Guess Who's TWO!?</span></strong> </span></div><span style="font-family: "Helvetica Neue", Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><br />
</span><br />
<div style="font-family: Calibri; font-size: 11pt; margin: 0in;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhPCXDQsV2pT2yu3TXwQULptNu9Jt12ihj4m-Cp-kt8NPSEh-jFI4OcpxixvATLLXJyf1L6oo2-61zYds5yBBoTBwRw-lw3i889IUeAhg8RBwbWRH6y1EXqzSWncDj__3k4tvKLcA/s1600/IMG_0165.png" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><span style="font-family: "Helvetica Neue", Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><img border="0" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhPCXDQsV2pT2yu3TXwQULptNu9Jt12ihj4m-Cp-kt8NPSEh-jFI4OcpxixvATLLXJyf1L6oo2-61zYds5yBBoTBwRw-lw3i889IUeAhg8RBwbWRH6y1EXqzSWncDj__3k4tvKLcA/s400/IMG_0165.png" width="266" /></span></a><span style="font-family: "Helvetica Neue", Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">I look back on my kids' birthdays with a lot of nostalgia and emotion.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>After all, I am a huge sap. But, they were hugely important days in my life too!<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>So on this, my son's second birthday, I wanted to tell you a little bit about the little person known as my baby Bam Bam.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>These years are passing too darn quickly, and I don't want to forget what it was like when my babies turned 2... or 5… or 10…<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>So to commemorate each milestone, I'll write about it, take lots of pictures, and hope that my memory doesn't fail me.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Because these are truly precious times.</span></div><br />
<div style="font-family: Calibri; font-size: 11pt; margin: 0in;"><span style="font-family: "Helvetica Neue", Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">It was a warm spring day two years ago when Noah Grey decided to join the world, just a few weeks ahead of schedule.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>He has maintained that 'head start' approach since then, by doing everything as early as possible.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Noah's not always the most patient kid, but when he accomplishes something he celebrates like nobody's business!<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>The dude's got a fiery temper with a short fuse, but he is quick to forgive and is pretty easily distracted which balances pretty nicely.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>He loves sleeping.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>He loves eating.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>He's a content little kid, but if he's ever unhappy he's pretty easy to please, because it's almost always one of those two things that will satisfy him: food or sleep. His sense of humor is really starting to develop now.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>He's quite the little tease, and loves to watch our reactions when he's being silly.</span></div><div style="font-family: Calibri; font-size: 11pt; margin: 0in;"><a name='more'></a></div><div style="font-family: Calibri; font-size: 11pt; margin: 0in;"></div><div style="font-family: Calibri; font-size: 11pt; margin: 0in;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgvfEAkpGslOmeeKqW4SgHGCwHVP74L9q7ptX0bq3xpHk6764gwGSHT-qmSmE7Cv5ok4Q0W8eLh2JQoduTV_FBXYLZ8xjLz2ETA9Qd1-QqBUz2I1Ffu7BOfVVoDpo9YBUGLoAsxSg/s1600/WP_000027.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><span style="font-family: "Helvetica Neue", Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgvfEAkpGslOmeeKqW4SgHGCwHVP74L9q7ptX0bq3xpHk6764gwGSHT-qmSmE7Cv5ok4Q0W8eLh2JQoduTV_FBXYLZ8xjLz2ETA9Qd1-QqBUz2I1Ffu7BOfVVoDpo9YBUGLoAsxSg/s320/WP_000027.jpg" width="320" /></span></a><span style="font-family: "Helvetica Neue", Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"></span><br />
<span style="font-family: "Helvetica Neue", Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Aptly named "Noah" so he could be nicknamed "No-No" by his sister (uncle Shad once said his name was fitting because after tailing the kid for a few hours, he found himself saying, "No! Aaaah!"<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>all the time!),<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>the little man would only say "No!" for about a year.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>There was no affirmative in his vocabulary, so we'd ask him, "do you want [something]?" and he'd reply "no", even when it was clear he meant "yes"!<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Our little German boy finally started saying "da" (as in German for "yes") so even when he's saying 'yes', he's still , you know, NOT actually saying YES.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Crazy child.</span></div><table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi1fT9Y7jEddVL2gMEboWxuBzhBXjpJHqQLkE5_ZBJR6aBKuxLjWOHlynNAHst6AZZe-mRzRTMiN_MxP7o60O7-Cy1MTPbGfzFwrDV4uw2ETUpvZf18LBNte6pzPiVguY3A3epv9w/s1600/IMG_0457.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><span style="font-family: "Helvetica Neue", Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><img border="0" height="266" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi1fT9Y7jEddVL2gMEboWxuBzhBXjpJHqQLkE5_ZBJR6aBKuxLjWOHlynNAHst6AZZe-mRzRTMiN_MxP7o60O7-Cy1MTPbGfzFwrDV4uw2ETUpvZf18LBNte6pzPiVguY3A3epv9w/s400/IMG_0457.JPG" width="400" /></span></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: "Helvetica Neue", Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">In true boyish fashion, he managed to get himself not one, </span><br />
<span style="font-family: "Helvetica Neue", Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">but TWO black eyes in a matter of only a few days!</span></td></tr>
</tbody></table><br />
<div style="font-family: Calibri; font-size: 11pt; margin: 0in;"><span style="font-family: "Helvetica Neue", Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">He is of course into the things that typical little boys this age love: Thomas the train, cowboys, Cars (the movie), farm animals,and construction equipment.In fact, he can tell you the difference between a backhoe and an excavator ("eppagater"), even though I probably could not. His love for books makes me so happy, and gives me hope that he may grow up to be a nerd someday! (C'mon, nerds rule the world, we all know that, right?) He spends a lot of time hanging out in the little reading corner in his room, pulling every book off the shelf and reading through them one by one. He likes to make noise, and get dirty. And I had to stop allowing the boy to eat gummy worms when he began "shooting" people with them in the grocery store. *Pew! Pew! Pew!* </span></div><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgdbykw3gMRvJs9K6QisAjKqAJON2YHfn1yU7pP0HGeIpIeJo5dCS1CtiARkwiGAAiYqcvyuo7crhItZuC02KFlT6BbBTcUf7kFOUK9pAxvZ9EX6Zh5hgp_Y7qd17nQW_9KN38ylw/s1600/IMG_1375.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><span style="font-family: "Helvetica Neue", Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><img border="0" height="266" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgdbykw3gMRvJs9K6QisAjKqAJON2YHfn1yU7pP0HGeIpIeJo5dCS1CtiARkwiGAAiYqcvyuo7crhItZuC02KFlT6BbBTcUf7kFOUK9pAxvZ9EX6Zh5hgp_Y7qd17nQW_9KN38ylw/s400/IMG_1375.JPG" width="400" /></span></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: "Helvetica Neue", Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Looking very much like he's about to do something naughty...</span></td></tr>
</tbody></table><span style="font-family: "Helvetica Neue", Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"></span><br />
<span style="font-family: "Helvetica Neue", Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Ever the Mommy's boy, he's snuggly and smoochy, and would prefer to sit on my lap for hours if I'd let him. Sweeter than I ever expected a little boy to be, he's constantly giving his loved ones random smooches and hugs. He loves the kitty beyond reason, that poor darned old cat will tolerate the most abusive hugs and squeezes from that kid. Their relationship is incredibly cute. While he adores the dog and pretty much any other animal that comes in sight, he & Tweak are friends for life.</span><br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjPYyjrOJU0fZhXNPOyo9bBsfLz6RyCk8eWZAuXXGJOtLko1DoPib_UbfmbxQK1SM91D-oE3pqkby0oFyPU6LSyIUBdlQV0O_qjkhHC87KomBFH5Z9TqSeK5aAftE2yG40Ob8-NHQ/s1600/IMG_1342.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><span style="font-family: "Helvetica Neue", Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><img border="0" height="266" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjPYyjrOJU0fZhXNPOyo9bBsfLz6RyCk8eWZAuXXGJOtLko1DoPib_UbfmbxQK1SM91D-oE3pqkby0oFyPU6LSyIUBdlQV0O_qjkhHC87KomBFH5Z9TqSeK5aAftE2yG40Ob8-NHQ/s400/IMG_1342.JPG" width="400" /></span></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: "Helvetica Neue", Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Tweak & Noah, BFF's</span></td></tr>
</tbody></table><br />
<div style="text-align: right;"><table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: left; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhnmtGNEPhMK9gFkISy0pqfCIHTPR1b28QUwQbTkMGRTAuqhpJPU_9K8-FDQqKnsE0pbkw2Ng9iX8TavrCW0jiLUcbCfxQXtO5HIUiaCvc00BJvvkwTji-E094N6l_Dc5uxZ2tYPw/s1600/IMG_1294.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><span style="font-family: "Helvetica Neue", Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><img border="0" height="266" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhnmtGNEPhMK9gFkISy0pqfCIHTPR1b28QUwQbTkMGRTAuqhpJPU_9K8-FDQqKnsE0pbkw2Ng9iX8TavrCW0jiLUcbCfxQXtO5HIUiaCvc00BJvvkwTji-E094N6l_Dc5uxZ2tYPw/s400/IMG_1294.JPG" width="400" /></span></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: "Helvetica Neue", Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">How YOU doin', ladies?</span></td></tr>
</tbody></table></div><div style="text-align: left;"><span style="font-family: "Helvetica Neue", Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Noah is a consummate flirt.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"></span>Women of Fargo, (especially middle-aged ones), watch out for this little ladies man! <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"></span>He waves, cocks his head to the side, & singsongs "hiiiii" in his coy little voice to checkout attendants, waitresses, <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"></span>random shoppers in the store, and frankly anyone who will notice how adorable he may be. <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"></span>One of my favorite stories is of the late night that Dad & Noah came to pick Asha & I up from the airport when we returned from Texas.</span><br />
<br />
<table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: left;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhULY1LiANXQJzumc5BCZeDrh5Wi2dRFu_3OP6Ix-as8QhR4npsTQzYGqWENfTDg_EtKCY2sVYke_jPY7s4ql9ttHgiO58jOMS8vJXMQssz8jRwVlgd49CerGIDgvB3F5aNcdkN_Q/s1600/IMG_1127.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="266" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhULY1LiANXQJzumc5BCZeDrh5Wi2dRFu_3OP6Ix-as8QhR4npsTQzYGqWENfTDg_EtKCY2sVYke_jPY7s4ql9ttHgiO58jOMS8vJXMQssz8jRwVlgd49CerGIDgvB3F5aNcdkN_Q/s400/IMG_1127.JPG" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">That's right, ladies, this can be all yours...</td></tr>
</tbody></table><span style="font-family: "Helvetica Neue", Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"></span>Noah had thrown up a little bit on the ride to the airport (more like spit-up, but to hear Daddy tell it, he was like the Exorcist) and Dad tried rather unsuccessfully to clean him up with napkins he found in the glove box (Dads apparently don't believe in bringing diaper bags with them?).<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"></span>Once in the airport lounge, they took a seat and soon an attractive young college-aged girl sat down next to them.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"></span>Noah spent the next 15 minutes making google eyes and trying to get her attention. <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"></span>Jordan, embarrassed by the awkward situation later says to me, "It was awful, I felt so bad for the kid. <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"></span>It was like looking back at myself in college: Up way too late, covered in puke and trying to mack on a girl that's way out of my league."</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "Helvetica Neue", Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"></span></span></div><div style="text-align: right;"><span style="font-family: "Helvetica Neue", Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"> </span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; font-family: Calibri; font-size: 11pt; margin: 0in; text-align: left;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEimzIouCwJwdakAM84x9MDbDbYbySOJ8flwRIl0lWIs5lgIOony9rLQ2iZwZorkGWxAwQC3sABEvLnHC6DOpqWY-dl24ETSUT7uX3V_4MnfSJf_PMghbPEBXjcfqUk5a_XKLSUDnQ/s1600/IMG_1193.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" height="266" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEimzIouCwJwdakAM84x9MDbDbYbySOJ8flwRIl0lWIs5lgIOony9rLQ2iZwZorkGWxAwQC3sABEvLnHC6DOpqWY-dl24ETSUT7uX3V_4MnfSJf_PMghbPEBXjcfqUk5a_XKLSUDnQ/s400/IMG_1193.JPG" width="400" /></a><span style="font-family: "Helvetica Neue", Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>But what really warms my heart is his relationship with his big sister. Being a big sister myself, I can tell you that little brothers can be a huge pain in the ass… but they can also turn out to be your best friends.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Which is why it makes me so happy that my kids get along as well as they do.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Anytime Noah is crying, we can send Asha in and he almost always stops instantly.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>With his increase in vocabulary there are often words that Mom & Dad just can't quite make out… but big sister somehow can interpret perfectly.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>His recent desire for independence has left his sister quite disappointed (she's pretty good at bossing and loves doing <span style="font-style: italic;">everything</span> she can for her bro), and they've started disagreeing more often about what movie they want to watch, or what toys they want to play with.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> But they also have a ton of fun together, and seem to truly enjoy joining forces against their parents to make things just a little more "interesting" for us! </span>Still, I find them sharing the sweetest moments together and I hope that they always stay this close.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span></span></div><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhv1TUbsU56zimo_lctN09xwOcGdUVCkYf4dRjIUn4VeTW8s1LwBkrSl8kKnyK-TvuwyOxLxi4gpjR7QUMzP7HKUZSCfvfHegDJ3pOp3qVX7tnb5cm5QGWwpzj_5LEATmIt4KfRdQ/s1600/IMG_1004.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><span style="font-family: "Helvetica Neue", Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><img border="0" height="266" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhv1TUbsU56zimo_lctN09xwOcGdUVCkYf4dRjIUn4VeTW8s1LwBkrSl8kKnyK-TvuwyOxLxi4gpjR7QUMzP7HKUZSCfvfHegDJ3pOp3qVX7tnb5cm5QGWwpzj_5LEATmIt4KfRdQ/s400/IMG_1004.JPG" width="400" /></span></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: "Helvetica Neue", Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">One of my faves - we call this one his "Grampa Chuck face".</span></td></tr>
</tbody></table><span style="font-family: "Helvetica Neue", Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Noah is silly, serene, joyful, stubborn, loving, energetic, bright, hilarious, tenacious, and a downright delightful child. And I can't wait to get to know him even better as he grows up. I love you more than these many words can ever express, my precious baby boy. You're not a baby anymore, but you'll always be mine. I'm so blessed to be your Mama! Happy Second Birthday, Noah! </span><br />
<span style="font-family: "Helvetica Neue", Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"></span>Shannahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16081428553651389002noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4107147.post-74881083910805548682011-04-13T14:57:00.004-05:002011-12-20T21:29:29.003-06:00Family Vacation, A Little Like the Griswold's, Only Not As Funny...<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"></div><div style="text-align: center;"> </div>It got a little floody around here this past weekend. After almost 6 months of constant snow cover and subzero temps, we welcomed spring with open arms... and hip waders. And sand bags, and dump trucks, and helicopters, and police escorted flatbeds filled with... more sand bags. The weather was quite nice, but unfortunately it was far too soggy to be playing outside. It's tough for a kid to enjoy the outdoors when most of the playgrounds in your neighborhood look like this:<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhy6I5hGTHyx6amrLiXHvQeHUVtp69cueLBTT64yZrlz2Btdh505NTJL6kvyuE2JhQdTp0t-ynkZJo8DcxDHdbg19OerU9vHNyFsWdXWiAbyoci2r9w7AjaSqyBjZwLmGOVH_oFlw/s1600/5b.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="300" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhy6I5hGTHyx6amrLiXHvQeHUVtp69cueLBTT64yZrlz2Btdh505NTJL6kvyuE2JhQdTp0t-ynkZJo8DcxDHdbg19OerU9vHNyFsWdXWiAbyoci2r9w7AjaSqyBjZwLmGOVH_oFlw/s400/5b.jpg" width="400" /></a></div><br />
So we decided that we'd had enough fun with the ol' Red River for a bit, and skipped town, heading east bound to the Twin Cities.<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhQ1NngMeu85_gPKCglzdTm-wBwBvtv0LVDjFdygfm27zAXwyILlbXBkcF7na_IC1X2MDuULh4BXxOw2l6npJpza1_5mxiLPkpTzcpcjEdgiXeI217u0XQ-_ReCg_E81pzT84aq6A/s1600/WP_000058.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="300" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhQ1NngMeu85_gPKCglzdTm-wBwBvtv0LVDjFdygfm27zAXwyILlbXBkcF7na_IC1X2MDuULh4BXxOw2l6npJpza1_5mxiLPkpTzcpcjEdgiXeI217u0XQ-_ReCg_E81pzT84aq6A/s400/WP_000058.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">The Red River bridge on I-94, day before the crest</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh960ApEZmkHTeoFkJaJp3OrLAitY1cGbmYXu-oy6ydUC_bFnsY1YrNOSIrCswkeZRdx5fXhsa2kkuBVnwWTUgKoBOVBKGMZFCaFaexjjc7i4UARkVZ5NWZsImzzemfuVwjmIOU0Q/s1600/WP_000060.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="300" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh960ApEZmkHTeoFkJaJp3OrLAitY1cGbmYXu-oy6ydUC_bFnsY1YrNOSIrCswkeZRdx5fXhsa2kkuBVnwWTUgKoBOVBKGMZFCaFaexjjc7i4UARkVZ5NWZsImzzemfuVwjmIOU0Q/s400/WP_000060.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Thank goodness for portable DVD players!</td></tr>
</tbody></table>The decision to head out of town was the single most spontaneous thing our family has ever done. While eating lunch, I commented to Daddy that the kids had been exceptionally good that morning. He got that "thinkin' look" on his face, then brought up the suggestion that we take them to Nickelodeon Land at the Mall of America (we had talked about doing so for quite awhile) as a "thanks-for-being-good and happy-early-birthday" treat. We took Asha there last summer for a mini-vacation. We had the <em>best </em>time and thought Noah was old enough now to enjoy it as well. So we hastily threw in a change of clothes, filled the car with that precious $4/gallon gas (yowch), and eased on down the road.</div><div style="text-align: left;"></div><div style="text-align: left;"> <br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg-DLDMDyPtdLxWZt0_AbrTMh9Zb1lOv6Yliz85LvEICJ_796JH1itkokBg3tgavpt9IaT0-BMELdZC4b_jFsmwVYNdPdchuLLADWeEYIT6oyP1ZEq4MhXwmd2OpaqDnbL8I3trpA/s1600/WP_000063.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="300" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg-DLDMDyPtdLxWZt0_AbrTMh9Zb1lOv6Yliz85LvEICJ_796JH1itkokBg3tgavpt9IaT0-BMELdZC4b_jFsmwVYNdPdchuLLADWeEYIT6oyP1ZEq4MhXwmd2OpaqDnbL8I3trpA/s400/WP_000063.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Though passing out is almost as good a time killer on road trips</td></tr>
</tbody></table></div>I very much appreciated our access to modern technology on this trip more than ever. As we drove out of town, I booked a hotel through Expedia on my handy dandy new Windows Phone. I got a sweet "last-minute" deal at a nice hotel just a couple miles from the Mall of America (who says frugality isn't fun?!) The kids were silent the whole way, occupied by their portable DVD players. When we got closer to the city, we punched the hotels' address into the phones' GPS system and were led right up to the front door! After we checked in, we found the closest Denny's, grabbed some grub, stopped at WalMart (yup, we forgot Asha's socks in our rush to leave town), and found the quickest route to the MOA, all from our phone. Nifty!<br />
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The dim spot in our weekend was the night in the hotel. It was a great place, don't get me wrong. The kids loved the pool, and the rooms were nice & roomy. Just not roomy enough for a toddler who loves (and I mean LOVES) sleeping in his own bed. Or for a big girl who insists upon sleeping with her bony knees shoved into your spine. We booked a King room, knowing that Ash would end up in bed with us anyway, and that Noah would probably follow suit. We were all exhausted by 7:30, so we took advantage and tried to get them down for the night then. "Not a chance, suckas!", they seemed to say. Noah babbled, giggled, crawled all over us, begged for "TV on!" and was just being a royal pain in the pooper. Asha whined about his wiggling; so he sat on her head and soon both began to wail. Daddy To The Rescue jumped up and dialed the front desk, "Yeah, can we get a crib up here?"<br />
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45 agonizing minutes later, the hotel staff finally showed up with that magical crib, with its four wonderful walls that held Monster Man captive until at last he drifted off to sleep. Sister was out moments later... too bad Mom & Dad didn't get a wink of sleep that night. The tricky thermostat kept the room temp ranging from rain forest to arctic tundra in a matter of minutes. Kneecaps McGee and Baby Mouth Breather ensured that we didn't get <em>too </em>much rest. 6:30am rolled around, and Ash was up with the birds as usual. She & Dad went down to check out the continental breakfast. Bless Daddy's heart, he kept her down there and allowed Mama & Noah to sleep until 8:00. 2 hours later, we headed over to the Mall, to begin our day of fun!<br />
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The plan was for Mom & Asha to hit the theme park right away, while Dad & Noah would visit the aquarium. The boys had a blast, Noah loved all the "fsssshh" and sharks. We girls didn't waste any time getting started on the rides...<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjmbT2NCvRWhG4fawBoxuSd6xTKamtB98Suvk1uueLOJAlXqcXdB4Upx44Mz1ueqQtYCUEbXxOFRfw2ia-5SvIBgBiTpwTdlwnS75ou2ooALtSVjz9bwjRsd-bLeZvhLZsQu5fyDQ/s1600/IMG_1503.png" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjmbT2NCvRWhG4fawBoxuSd6xTKamtB98Suvk1uueLOJAlXqcXdB4Upx44Mz1ueqQtYCUEbXxOFRfw2ia-5SvIBgBiTpwTdlwnS75ou2ooALtSVjz9bwjRsd-bLeZvhLZsQu5fyDQ/s400/IMG_1503.png" width="266" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">I love this! The kids on both sides of her were flipping out (this did NOT appear to be a scary ride) and Asha just kept grinning and looking at them like, "what is the problem, nerds?"</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh5vpyICpGmuiSbz_yBe_iwQt6vBpvZax9gPUXqp2GqYeGbfsBAZwULle_k_z9TT4hZ3DxksAoJVpmELtL0yHkI0CmO_Qm94VfY_A4oBKyG1KHVkXVTIkijaUvWWW3jBAcSLANKzQ/s1600/IMG_1497.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="266" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh5vpyICpGmuiSbz_yBe_iwQt6vBpvZax9gPUXqp2GqYeGbfsBAZwULle_k_z9TT4hZ3DxksAoJVpmELtL0yHkI0CmO_Qm94VfY_A4oBKyG1KHVkXVTIkijaUvWWW3jBAcSLANKzQ/s400/IMG_1497.JPG" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">She started on the mini-coaster, then immediately graduated to the BIG one!</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg-iEpCDWN1FejGU7pLfPrtR4rvcgvszebcQx8yZGbwhmuAXWrQIL9sLuH8bdvyMBa24UtZKW12PMb8plk0DqDkTMAl7jRvB70SI4-OGYdmEDUTQWTW1v_6AssXG9svy3Xp01DtWA/s1600/IMG_7470.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="266" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg-iEpCDWN1FejGU7pLfPrtR4rvcgvszebcQx8yZGbwhmuAXWrQIL9sLuH8bdvyMBa24UtZKW12PMb8plk0DqDkTMAl7jRvB70SI4-OGYdmEDUTQWTW1v_6AssXG9svy3Xp01DtWA/s400/IMG_7470.JPG" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Wheeeeee! Crazy wild- haired Mama and her calm, collected daughter on the roller coaster!</td></tr>
</tbody></table><br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjcWWH3CRei-dLL36DGrNGk9VrrX3jxZtIARrdJJfIdCr6eGJGaX9qCJ6ikES41cdZBIRTSxW8c1sCigLT0erXjsjXzpRK3LnF4Kc4LssjisYSPvMEq0aJa_SKFLFba0I_v65DGwA/s1600/IMG_1522.png" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjcWWH3CRei-dLL36DGrNGk9VrrX3jxZtIARrdJJfIdCr6eGJGaX9qCJ6ikES41cdZBIRTSxW8c1sCigLT0erXjsjXzpRK3LnF4Kc4LssjisYSPvMEq0aJa_SKFLFba0I_v65DGwA/s400/IMG_1522.png" width="266" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Captivated by the train, he kept yelling "All Aboard!"</td></tr>
</tbody></table></div>The boys wrapped up their tour of the aquarium and joined us for the remainder of the day. Dad & Asha decided they wanted to go on some scary rides, so I took Bam Bam and headed to the rides geared toward the Dora/Diego crowd. The little man was hilarious on his first ride, I wish I could've read his mind. He never once cracked a smile, but didn't seem the least bit afraid. He was simply fascinated by the whole concept!<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh1BBgsJMFi-Dwd4Nm-RNzsMo-iMNfqYnSdlfHLlmNDztAingtsWw_X-WesI-mfix0_uK5YDFkcHR9DbpxaZi7yS22u9FhOOFstobFzwyXl8BChaRDgsPvqxNhbOIIMistpU_-xJA/s1600/IMG_1544.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="266" i$="true" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh1BBgsJMFi-Dwd4Nm-RNzsMo-iMNfqYnSdlfHLlmNDztAingtsWw_X-WesI-mfix0_uK5YDFkcHR9DbpxaZi7yS22u9FhOOFstobFzwyXl8BChaRDgsPvqxNhbOIIMistpU_-xJA/s400/IMG_1544.JPG" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Excuse me, you're gonna do WHAT with this thing!?</td></tr>
</tbody></table>Noah was brave enough to go on a couple of the kiddie rides on his own, but I was never quite sure if he was going to cry, puke, or burst out into giggles. My normally chatty little dude was mostly silent, just taking in all the sights and sounds. He'd get off one ride, then run along to the next one and hop right in line, so I was pretty sure he wanted to go on them... at least I hope so, or else I'm losing my Mom of the Year trophy if the kid was miserable. He recognized all the familiar cartoon characters, and thoroughly loved running full-speed ahead and watching Mama try to keep up with him!<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiTwjszJsuXbU3OucJ9WBJOJNXNkNCXYBMwNxOomSZ-N9LhIwMu83X3DZ_OHAiiD_KsbDLGqR8FggglF-dZn1RHunOPWu4Sgf7_2xiffnX42C3OWcZWSR_CSx567QtlU-3CGP7dQQ/s1600/IMG_1519.png" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiTwjszJsuXbU3OucJ9WBJOJNXNkNCXYBMwNxOomSZ-N9LhIwMu83X3DZ_OHAiiD_KsbDLGqR8FggglF-dZn1RHunOPWu4Sgf7_2xiffnX42C3OWcZWSR_CSx567QtlU-3CGP7dQQ/s400/IMG_1519.png" width="266" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Favorite picture. Ever. The poor child looks milliseconds away from barfing, but there were no tears and otherwise no outward panic whatsoever. In fact, he was pretty rad, especially for a not-quite-2-year-old!</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgc0iltFo9hwY8fFQuObVV46nD0LyDDn71RijPJMoiuIE4Blh6RmdxAq_FF1CLKzHdoyhw26WR7HSgmdbomES_8kd62XcGRAiM8S4WHiz2T44SkK2qb55x-Tu9gq-u4hMEXYbbzJA/s1600/IMG_1546.png" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgc0iltFo9hwY8fFQuObVV46nD0LyDDn71RijPJMoiuIE4Blh6RmdxAq_FF1CLKzHdoyhw26WR7HSgmdbomES_8kd62XcGRAiM8S4WHiz2T44SkK2qb55x-Tu9gq-u4hMEXYbbzJA/s400/IMG_1546.png" width="266" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">If it's all the same to you, I think I'd rather play Legos</td></tr>
</tbody></table> <br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjyi9hi_mocVe4hy-tqEnmeuOLB6Wv_TrDmPU43yAah_7ZdlcEiwzsTqPOj7xN2zAgRSnYzz3eK3X0a4n_1Gevo5lMkS3598Qw53UnwaxzCgU4kIRhXMlxmVAtpz6Gx5f5T0WFOpw/s1600/IMG_1550.png" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjyi9hi_mocVe4hy-tqEnmeuOLB6Wv_TrDmPU43yAah_7ZdlcEiwzsTqPOj7xN2zAgRSnYzz3eK3X0a4n_1Gevo5lMkS3598Qw53UnwaxzCgU4kIRhXMlxmVAtpz6Gx5f5T0WFOpw/s400/IMG_1550.png" width="266" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Little trucker</td></tr>
</tbody></table><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiPQjRrW3qu_XNOHnMJ9_jlWMQKfKrsQ9tZx633gq7gZd_9OPlHC8FG62o9hDw7pUdwAoE7jUUOakrIWxxm0Wx5SgSUO6Ii1ScEDWvm9D1k-65SS-JyLFYYSFnlFYS3d6tSqfKB_Q/s1600/IMG_1555.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="266" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiPQjRrW3qu_XNOHnMJ9_jlWMQKfKrsQ9tZx633gq7gZd_9OPlHC8FG62o9hDw7pUdwAoE7jUUOakrIWxxm0Wx5SgSUO6Ii1ScEDWvm9D1k-65SS-JyLFYYSFnlFYS3d6tSqfKB_Q/s400/IMG_1555.JPG" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">LOVED the semi truck ride, we hit that one up at least 5 times</td></tr>
</tbody></table> <br />
<div style="text-align: left;"><table align="left" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgHyv5nWxc9p3iRxpskuophf3OUkBuS1oL-JvkWyjO3j3LzBfnGsbxtC0LpMUKlfhEN9gHm5MnhTxlRy3pfcH-aG01qc3ZmK0NbmyLz4o4O9qsLai41M-ABazMbwQy5lHSR4QFijA/s1600/IMG_1563.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="266" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgHyv5nWxc9p3iRxpskuophf3OUkBuS1oL-JvkWyjO3j3LzBfnGsbxtC0LpMUKlfhEN9gHm5MnhTxlRy3pfcH-aG01qc3ZmK0NbmyLz4o4O9qsLai41M-ABazMbwQy5lHSR4QFijA/s400/IMG_1563.JPG" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Daddy & Asha swingin'</td></tr>
</tbody></table>I was bummed that I missed out on snapping pics of our other two brave adventurers, but I heard they had a wild time. It's a lucky thing Asha is very tall for her age, she was juuuuust tall enough to ride the "kindof-scary" rides. We quickly learned that our daughter has NO FEAR whatsoever. She convinced me to go on the "Fairly OddParents" rollercoaster. I very nearly lost my cookies, as did the 40-something guy and his pre-teen son who shared the ride car with us, but this little girl had an ear-to-ear grin the entire time! She was a rockstar! We've never been so proud.</div><br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg-_Z000V1zTd9J4j2XcvddBNSgdHZemVdpfsX0uZYWSpOynU4UOB93F4RmxUo5DFbTeJqqZtHdaG59RFVpmRwQfTgoJ9AJznsQrnUSuzp17e2lUIFk5y-IHxD2YnXwyS33iJ1Wgw/s1600/IMG_1596.png" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg-_Z000V1zTd9J4j2XcvddBNSgdHZemVdpfsX0uZYWSpOynU4UOB93F4RmxUo5DFbTeJqqZtHdaG59RFVpmRwQfTgoJ9AJznsQrnUSuzp17e2lUIFk5y-IHxD2YnXwyS33iJ1Wgw/s400/IMG_1596.png" width="266" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Chillin' with a little snack while the other two went on the scary rides</td></tr>
</tbody></table> <br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg0Orjr1IF1aCLWG9jkkUJuTM1KHtd9EJlUP03WOupDIHQa_Ld-h1GddTqdklcpqBc3S34fTPxHlIESVB_GwSde9FEdw9lmGxuEAdw-9xSsPcQH1kMCy-BAjVBXTY9gAoMbjr6wcQ/s1600/IMG_1567.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="266" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg0Orjr1IF1aCLWG9jkkUJuTM1KHtd9EJlUP03WOupDIHQa_Ld-h1GddTqdklcpqBc3S34fTPxHlIESVB_GwSde9FEdw9lmGxuEAdw-9xSsPcQH1kMCy-BAjVBXTY9gAoMbjr6wcQ/s400/IMG_1567.JPG" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Running to the next ride</td></tr>
</tbody></table><table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg9EXcA35oddQd5VZsJPVZPEKvQvr31sgFmpr5Vu7yeqNLST77822a0Hm9hqyclWiguxO5o0wTk_i_8Si_aLBEfNF3L8s3S1dYZLu8KASy2Vo8Wnx4o_ulTydjWorJ5chmxpaSMEg/s1600/IMG_1583.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="266" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg9EXcA35oddQd5VZsJPVZPEKvQvr31sgFmpr5Vu7yeqNLST77822a0Hm9hqyclWiguxO5o0wTk_i_8Si_aLBEfNF3L8s3S1dYZLu8KASy2Vo8Wnx4o_ulTydjWorJ5chmxpaSMEg/s400/IMG_1583.JPG" style="cursor: move;" unselectable="on" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Freefalling and loving it! Much giggling followed.</td></tr>
</tbody></table>My favorite part of our day at the theme park was when big sister decided she would take a break from the big kids rides, and wanted to go on some (considerbly more babyish ones) with her little brother. That stoic little guy was suddenly all smiles when Big Sis was by his side. They decided their favorite was the Wonder Pets Flyboat -- a kid-friendly version of one of those "freefall" rides where you slowly go up, then get dropped down at high speed, reaching zero-G with your cheeks flapping in the wind! <br />
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<table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjdvxQgYXTQSdp4fQjN-D1PMCOJGKPfXzBC6L2cayQgC16Ci7Vxp7O5US0wRUI_CBclR7-5IxIA5js2TBmlFpZ5UV6f87-gepFZ7kca3_MaXbZ-EkNtnz_NQ_MxTmIt9LuTXtXeWw/s1600/IMG_1587.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="266" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjdvxQgYXTQSdp4fQjN-D1PMCOJGKPfXzBC6L2cayQgC16Ci7Vxp7O5US0wRUI_CBclR7-5IxIA5js2TBmlFpZ5UV6f87-gepFZ7kca3_MaXbZ-EkNtnz_NQ_MxTmIt9LuTXtXeWw/s400/IMG_1587.JPG" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">A highlight of the trip - worth every penny that they had this much fun together.</td></tr>
</tbody></table>All in all, we had a really fantastic weekend. The trip home was of course long, everyone got a little tired and cranky, we got home way later than we wanted to, and came back to a mountain of laundry stared smack in the face of a Monday...<br />
But it was worth every single hassle for all the fun we had and great memories we (hopefully) created for the kiddos. And despite the lack of sleep, expensive gas, and hassle of traveling with two nap-less kids, I loved every minute of our spontaneous little family vacation!<br />
<div style="clear: both; text-align: center;"></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"></div>Shannahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16081428553651389002noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4107147.post-77998437576270641302011-04-01T16:51:00.002-05:002011-12-20T21:29:51.860-06:00April FoolishnessWe're getting a little antsy after being cooped up inside for the past 5 months! So last night, in celebration of one of my favorite holidays (yeah, I know it's not a holiday, it's a just-plain-fun day!), we made some April Fool's treats to take to daycare. My little sous chef helped me find the 'recipe' we were going to make: Hamburger Cookies! So we headed to the grocery store to pick up our ingredients:<br />
<ul><li>2 boxes Nilla wafers</li>
<li>2 packages Keebler Grasshopper cookies</li>
<li>2 tubes red frosting</li>
<li>1 tube yellow frosting</li>
<li>1 pkg. flaked coconut</li>
<li>Green food coloring</li>
<li>Gold cupcake sprinkles</li>
</ul>I suppose we probably wouldn't have needed 2 boxes of wafers, but we're very particular about our buns. (Har har har.) I realized about 10 minutes into our project that this was going to be a crapload of cookies, but we had to make enough for both classrooms (about 24 w/teachers in each room). This was a GREAT project for my little helper: there were plenty of steps she could do all by herself, and counting out the number we needed was good for sharpening her math skills too!<br />
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We started by placing 48 Nilla wafers flat side up for the bottom "bun". Then, we piped a circle of yellow frosting around the bottom edge of a Grasshopper cookie (we quickly found that the frosting stuck much better to the smooth dipped cookie than it did the crumbly Nilla wafer) <br />
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgp7RW6WTyw79jDcld0HOVUs3qK6DJHk7vME9kUzv1ZjIj2mwqT5W5Jk7sHNX19FsbNDZlIToOITiHxHiIdD0NES6tyao01B-oq4JUPXnI6-seHXre22QuRXFk_LBAzEVbJqkJldw/s1600/IMG_1421.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="266" r6="true" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgp7RW6WTyw79jDcld0HOVUs3qK6DJHk7vME9kUzv1ZjIj2mwqT5W5Jk7sHNX19FsbNDZlIToOITiHxHiIdD0NES6tyao01B-oq4JUPXnI6-seHXre22QuRXFk_LBAzEVbJqkJldw/s400/IMG_1421.JPG" width="400" /></a></div><div style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none;"><br />
</div><div style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none;">and then smooshed the two cookies together so that the "cheese" (or maybe it's mustard, I dunno) oozed out the sides slightly:</div><div style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none;"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg9cGxjM9o7566337FIG9I7Xlf6q0aJmv3ZUaZzX55NE4lXGmxcQGbktK7cczmOwkUvcEnq-2lpVMY3BjeewfF0PsR2FuClbcmp2UNrjP-VHjzI7xb5ariKTiEf3gycvAhaFNI9wQ/s1600/IMG_1422.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="266" r6="true" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg9cGxjM9o7566337FIG9I7Xlf6q0aJmv3ZUaZzX55NE4lXGmxcQGbktK7cczmOwkUvcEnq-2lpVMY3BjeewfF0PsR2FuClbcmp2UNrjP-VHjzI7xb5ariKTiEf3gycvAhaFNI9wQ/s400/IMG_1422.JPG" width="400" /></a></div><br />
While Mommy was busy piping frosting circles, Chef Asha dumped the bag of coconut in a covered bowl and put about 4 drops of green food coloring in, put the lid on, then tossed. After the bottom half of the sandwich was assembled, we added the "lettuce", like so:<br />
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEilNXWUoqGv5oJ7xalGX419dsxsL-yXMU5ygJlESSmyrp-kZbnzSPHcB5NJdAPwr_45KmRzm5HH8JBtSKnj0G9Yz059c2g66tj6IpN2-7tzCJMJF12qJ1YG1D-HJZpgOO-DcCT2Rw/s1600/IMG_1424.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="266" r6="true" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEilNXWUoqGv5oJ7xalGX419dsxsL-yXMU5ygJlESSmyrp-kZbnzSPHcB5NJdAPwr_45KmRzm5HH8JBtSKnj0G9Yz059c2g66tj6IpN2-7tzCJMJF12qJ1YG1D-HJZpgOO-DcCT2Rw/s400/IMG_1424.JPG" width="400" /></a></div><br />
We were having so much fun up to that point. Then came the "sesame seeds". Not so much fun. I put some Karo syrup in a little bowl and added about a tablespoon of water, then put it in the microwave for a few seconds to soften it up. We used a little paintbrush to brush some syrup/water mixture onto the "bun lid", then dipped the lid into a pile of the sprinkles we had dumped onto a plate. This was a lot more painstaking and sticky than the rest of the operation had been, but still not entirely that bad.<br />
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEggXKraSNz1142rqAyA_VrDLwE3hrFowohhyL3ThfmUCUn8rnS2sdEcQfYwOMWdYLAW13YKE7cUs0WrRhHRMjZgpzmVnuCSQ0c3ES9BVWCdeectn_Ms86Id_rP3JJvhxvy08vyBgA/s1600/IMG_1432.png" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="400" r6="true" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEggXKraSNz1142rqAyA_VrDLwE3hrFowohhyL3ThfmUCUn8rnS2sdEcQfYwOMWdYLAW13YKE7cUs0WrRhHRMjZgpzmVnuCSQ0c3ES9BVWCdeectn_Ms86Id_rP3JJvhxvy08vyBgA/s400/IMG_1432.png" width="266" /></a></div><br />
Once our lid was properly sesame seed'ed, we added a larger dollop of frosting, this time, red for "ketchup". Of course we had to apply it to the 'lid' to act as the glue that holds the cookie together. When we smooshed, it nicely adhered the top bun to the lettuce & patty, and actually looked a lot like ketchup!<br />
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhV_SChXfVV3wX_QWPPkacH3sB2a8zuRLiuiCb1t1-rw4l5nbRCVkbLh4cvBu2eiaD034T0dUfPNhc7KThwEei9o2VkuAELXsUBzioZBYof3-IllJSif-GwDPt_4ds-ii-4wfc4Ow/s1600/IMG_1435.png" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="400" r6="true" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhV_SChXfVV3wX_QWPPkacH3sB2a8zuRLiuiCb1t1-rw4l5nbRCVkbLh4cvBu2eiaD034T0dUfPNhc7KThwEei9o2VkuAELXsUBzioZBYof3-IllJSif-GwDPt_4ds-ii-4wfc4Ow/s400/IMG_1435.png" width="266" /></a></div><br />
And VOILA!!! We haz cheeseburgers.<br />
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgL_pRTI46wme4OFAqwu9YWm6OoPGLqhtvIVgT0vZRo21AnYJzfODrSy2MAaJtMl6V5BoBTO192eFo_pj3cAzPJoXL12fnOtPEHfIxv7klq27xMT3_43Q_0gJT-8vd1gRkvsaZnaA/s1600/IMG_1425.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="266" r6="true" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgL_pRTI46wme4OFAqwu9YWm6OoPGLqhtvIVgT0vZRo21AnYJzfODrSy2MAaJtMl6V5BoBTO192eFo_pj3cAzPJoXL12fnOtPEHfIxv7klq27xMT3_43Q_0gJT-8vd1gRkvsaZnaA/s400/IMG_1425.JPG" width="400" /></a></div><br />
So then we made 47 more of them. They actually held together really well!<br />
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiRRVgpDU6qb2zb1vtu1pB2BtRS2eR0-MYg4iSm3MLloWFfff8TcPkuC0iw_ohI8UoCcfjjfR35QQHAvU-8td8XnOxBouqKFgZVoltnZkAMPwzyWpORml_QimAUw_1RNlo-7HL8NQ/s1600/IMG_1440.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="266" r6="true" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiRRVgpDU6qb2zb1vtu1pB2BtRS2eR0-MYg4iSm3MLloWFfff8TcPkuC0iw_ohI8UoCcfjjfR35QQHAvU-8td8XnOxBouqKFgZVoltnZkAMPwzyWpORml_QimAUw_1RNlo-7HL8NQ/s400/IMG_1440.JPG" width="400" /></a></div><br />
Aren't they cute? And my little Chef had to taste-test one just for good measure you know. Mommy tried one too, and you know what? They were actually pretty darn tasty, for store-bought cookies!<br />
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjpmEERv79_mWZsQ3HeQ1-4tYFfZwqTzb4o1HtFfgMmfs_6h5naiMaBaudEd3K6AJ9597kcGaAZZ_6Adz7Urjt8HTErb285tDq2et4CrCloCOVuFzONa1UDxvlaK68X_S2r_243PQ/s1600/IMG_1449.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="266" r6="true" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjpmEERv79_mWZsQ3HeQ1-4tYFfZwqTzb4o1HtFfgMmfs_6h5naiMaBaudEd3K6AJ9597kcGaAZZ_6Adz7Urjt8HTErb285tDq2et4CrCloCOVuFzONa1UDxvlaK68X_S2r_243PQ/s400/IMG_1449.JPG" width="400" /></a></div><div style="text-align: left;"></div><div style="text-align: left;">We really did have a blast making these together. Probably not something I'd do every week for a project, but definitely a fun way to play a harmless little joke on their buddies. Asha kept going, "it looks like a tiny cheeseburger, but it's a COOKIE! GET IT!?" *hysterical laughter* Both kids were so excited to take them to share with their friends today (a rare phenomenon when they <em>both actually want to share</em>!) Noah kept saying "hangurger!", so I'm not quite sure what he'll think when he bits into one! And I can't wait to hear what all the kiddos at daycare thought of our little April fool! </div><div style="text-align: left;"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgK8PmLBCj5bJPq39M_U1lAT37YtdU7dPEOchuhsYey1Hm9dg-l2KHdkt0LWbtjPisEq-n9xFZxBp5C_FVYeWbf4KG7Tp8EJIx-VD9vcaNmNLDBV0Y9mdz3qCc96QD0T0U45bW49w/s1600/IMG_1451.png" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="400" r6="true" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgK8PmLBCj5bJPq39M_U1lAT37YtdU7dPEOchuhsYey1Hm9dg-l2KHdkt0LWbtjPisEq-n9xFZxBp5C_FVYeWbf4KG7Tp8EJIx-VD9vcaNmNLDBV0Y9mdz3qCc96QD0T0U45bW49w/s400/IMG_1451.png" width="266" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br />
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</div><div style="text-align: left;"><strong>Happy April Fool's Day!</strong> </div>Shannahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16081428553651389002noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4107147.post-68867484359497958232011-03-29T22:30:00.003-05:002011-12-20T21:31:00.463-06:00A short post with a life lesson.It's been kindof a frustrating week at the Franzen household. Mama bear had strep, followed by some awful flu-from-hell something-or-other that kept me out of commission for 5 days. Papa bear was a saint, keeping watch over the rowdy, ill-behaved rugrats with the worst case of cabin fever... All the while dealing with a bum back! So while I kindof feel like I could whine & moan about that for my blog post, I won't. Instead, I'd like to share with you a life lesson my children taught me this weekend...<br />
<br />
Saturday night, since Mama was feeling pretty miserable, the kiddos decided they'd like to have a slumber party...in MY bed...to cheer me up. At first I thought, "ugh, great, just what I need; a sleepless night!" But then quickly warmed up to the idea, as I am a sucker for snuggling with my babes. In fact, nothing in this world makes me happier than doing just that! So we jumped in our jammies, brushed our toofers, climbed up the World's Tallest Bed (i.e., the "WTB" - it really is, it's ridiculous) piled on our favorite blankies, stuffed animals, etc., and cozied in for a good night's sleep. Mama was exhausted, and thought maybe the monkeys were too, since they had been terrorizing the house all day long. But sadly, I was wrong. Giggle, giggle. 10 minutes passed. Chatter, chatter. Another 10 minutes. Flip, flop, toss & turn, another 10. Mama was about ready to boot her little snuggle bugs outta the WTB when finally, at long last... silence. For three. Whole. Minutes.<br />
<br />
Then. Out of the darkness came the sweetest, most angelic little voice:<br />
<br />
"I got a booger! Here'go, Asha!"<br />
<br />
A drowsy little voice mumbled groggily, "Eww, Noah. Just wipe it on your blankie and quit buggin' me." Then she flipped over as if nothing happened, and went right back to sleep.<br />
<br />
I had to bury my face in the pillow to keep from giggling aloud. And there it was. My lesson of the week:<br />
<br />
<div style="text-align: center;"><strong>When life hands you a booger, just wipe it off and go back to bed.</strong></div><br />
<br />
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">AWESOME!!!!!!!</td></tr>
</tbody></table>Shannahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16081428553651389002noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4107147.post-91996969713713392011-03-22T23:24:00.003-05:002011-12-20T21:56:38.444-06:00TIME MACHINE TUESDAY: The Storm of '97<div style="text-align: center;"></div>There's a storm a'brewin'!<br />
<br />
The storm in my mind, I'm trying to remember... the storm outside, I'm trying to forget!<br />
<br />
Everyone in my generation and older who lives in this 'neck of the woods' very likely remembers the Big Storm of '97. It was in April, it was massive, and it led to devastating flooding. The tantrum Mother Nature is throwing tonight somewhat reminds me of that storm. This rain-turned-slush and high winds with rapid accumulations seems to resemble that storm quite a bit. Tonight as I checked my weather app on my cell phone, and later paged through the cancellation notices on the TV station's website to find out if gymnastics was still on, I couldn't help but think how different things are now than they were a few short years ago!<br />
<br />
I remember the '97 blizzard so clearly, it's almost like it didn't happen14 years ago! The night it started, my brother & I got permission to go to town to see a movie at the "Show Hall" (yeah, I know this wasn't the 1950's. This is seriously what we did, and probably still do, call the movie theater in my hometown). My Dad surprisingly let us out of the house, considering he knew there was a storm a'brewin' (I bet he used that exact term too), but we were happy to get out & about for the evening!<br />
<br />
When we entered the "Show Hall" at about 7pm, the streets were dry and a light mist had just begun to fall. By the time we left under 2 hours later, there was a good 4 inches of snoicesh (snowy ice slush?) on the streets. We knew this wasn't good. So we dropped my cousin off at home and headed out on the old country highway the 10 miles to our farm. Doesn't sound like a bad drive, you might say? You might. If you weren't the one driving my 46-ft long 1981 Mercury Marquis Banana Boat tank with rear-wheel drive and bald tires. Being the cautious teenage driver I was (stop the snickering, Seth) it took us nearly an hour to drive those 10 miles. As we finally made it to where we could see our yardlight, we noticed my dad driving right toward us with the tractor lights blaring. He had come to look for us. Oh shit. This was not good, folks. Not good at all. <br />
<br />
Now you have to remember that this was a time where a cell phone was something we'd never even seen other than in movies, let alone haul along with us at all times (because remember, they weighed like 12 pounds and had to have a 6-ft whip antenna?) Dad was pissed that we didn't call from Grandma's, or Heidi's, or "Idon'tcarewheregoddammitjustcall!" before we'd left town, and Mom of course had crafted in her imagination a fine tale of our untimely demise in the crevasses of ice and canyons of snow that had of course developed in the road ditches in those 3 hours... and made Dad fire up the tractor to come dig us out. It was a long & stressful night, so the 'rents at least had mercy on us and let sleep before the ultimate ass-chewing they would most certainly bestow upon us at dawn.<br />
<br />
But morning came with high winds, several <em>feet </em>of snow, and a power outage. Which lasted 3 days. So not only did we get the Chuck Christman Lecture of a Lifetime Special, we got to hear it over and over again. For 3 whole days. That's what you'd call a captive audience I guess. Worse yet, it was cold enough outside that we had to fire up the old propane furnace and sleep huddled together around it in our basement so we didn't die in our sleep from hypothermia. So there I was, sandwiched between Darth Vader and Buzzsaw McSnorysnore, lying awake and debating the pros and cons of going back upstairs to sleep in my 41-degree bedroom rather than put up with these jokers. Turns out, we had plenty of blankets, so I sequestered myself in my icebox, and that's where I spent the remainder of the power-less days, probably stewing about how much it was going to suck being grounded for who-knows-how-long. Definitely a memorable storm. Glad it hasn't happened since!<br />
<br />
Oh, and by the way: I <em>still </em>call home before I head out on a trip home, especially under inclement weather conditions. So lesson learned, Chuckles. Lesson learned.Shannahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16081428553651389002noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4107147.post-50989856023113750312011-03-15T23:00:00.004-05:002011-12-20T21:32:23.100-06:00Vacation, All I Ever Wanted...<div style="text-align: center;"> </div>It was a blustery, overcast February morning when some of my colleagues and I gathered at the bustling Hector International Airport to board our little puddle-jumper. According to our pilot, the air temp was 9 degrees. So long, Fargo. Two somewhat turbulent hours later we landed in Denver (a whopping 37 degrees warmer in the Mile High City). A hop, skip & another 2 hours later, we arrived in gorgeous, balmy Phoenix Sky Harbor airport. As we pulled our luggage off the carousel, we walked out the doors and immediately threw our coats in the trash. (ok, we didn't do that, but we felt like doing it!) A half-hour cab ride took us to our aaaaaahmazing resort, just in time for a breathtaking sunset:<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgNOHOauxN4BPsJ9e4naI9ZorhHezNe9MwsBhIOiLSJ4ONfmJaOcVX8K3SfbkrpjrLLTIoepEscZ9W0DRGC0MVX3PvkZ5x1ywulcj1P77LTIfDh5-ah124-2gCqw9bCBT-fu2a6Qw/s1600/IMAG0161.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="266" q6="true" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgNOHOauxN4BPsJ9e4naI9ZorhHezNe9MwsBhIOiLSJ4ONfmJaOcVX8K3SfbkrpjrLLTIoepEscZ9W0DRGC0MVX3PvkZ5x1ywulcj1P77LTIfDh5-ah124-2gCqw9bCBT-fu2a6Qw/s400/IMAG0161.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">The stunning view from in front of our hotel.</td></tr>
</tbody></table>We did have to share a room, which scared me a smidge at first, but after getting to know mine better, I couldn't have asked for a better roomie! In fact, I'm pretty thankful because I kindof felt like a gained a new friend. She's one smart and funny lady who put up with my shenanigans all week without complaint! So this hotel is where we'd spend the next 4 days for our Premier National offsite event. Four glorious days, away from the arctic north and savoring the deserts' warmth. Four heavenly days, basking in the sun's rays, soaking up that desperately-needed Vitamin D. Four fabulous days, enjoying the… what? WHAT?!! What do you mean they're not letting us outside ANY of the days? You've. Got. To. Be. Kidding. Me.<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjyHyFp3_W3y3MEBMERn69Xry3Wk0pOgCm1YWNepwKAMGG9mthc-91E-bW5djFJvp-Wctxz8DD3TFIeMRB1HmDEY608225qijMI_BcPbZhpX8ipyb0_XabKC4E_quGGOWLQ06_PRg/s1600/IMAG0167.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="266" q6="true" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjyHyFp3_W3y3MEBMERn69Xry3Wk0pOgCm1YWNepwKAMGG9mthc-91E-bW5djFJvp-Wctxz8DD3TFIeMRB1HmDEY608225qijMI_BcPbZhpX8ipyb0_XabKC4E_quGGOWLQ06_PRg/s400/IMAG0167.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">There will be NO enjoying this.</td></tr>
</tbody></table>Aah, but alas, they were not kidding me. We unfortunately DID have to spend the majority of our daylight hours in the conference center. The air-conditioned conference center where the air temperature resembled that of… you got it: Fargo. Don't you think it's a little mean to ship 34 poor souls from the tundra down south where it's a good 70 degrees warmer than it is back home, only to make them stay indoors the entire time? We looked like sad little puppies at the pet store, licking the glass, hoping and praying that someone would take pity and let our pasty selves out for corn sake!<br />
<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhTicGlZtcPwj0xEyhnDOo8GblDPJH4fxdHv2LJ_ZPdMbf1hi5fLiDBDuRhyphenhyphenJnVSYf-M71mFr2cDvGvUO8nMcGvP_XKQR3ffRwmp05YlaW9Z2qq5u9aIJg5v8GCPz-zqVz-LhUzPA/s1600/IMAG0166.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="266" q6="true" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhTicGlZtcPwj0xEyhnDOo8GblDPJH4fxdHv2LJ_ZPdMbf1hi5fLiDBDuRhyphenhyphenJnVSYf-M71mFr2cDvGvUO8nMcGvP_XKQR3ffRwmp05YlaW9Z2qq5u9aIJg5v8GCPz-zqVz-LhUzPA/s400/IMAG0166.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">the view from our hotel room</td></tr>
</tbody></table><br />
But we Fargo people are hearty. We make the best of whatever situation we're put in. And what the hell, at least we weren't stuck in Fargo. So we did what any good North Dakotan would do: we drank a lot of beer. They were feeding it to us for free after all. And it made us care a whole lot less that we only got to go outside after dark. I behaved much like my former college self the entire week -- little sleep, way too much consumption of adult beverages, and having far too much fun with my new friends. I had no kids to wake me up at 6 am, no laundry awaiting, no supper to put on the table, so I suppose I just let loose a little! <br />
<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhIslEBDuuaWDtLWXB-jhPMs2Jz__l5FwlX4nIuYC8hRhsiWhoygFAAjBQZZ8h3N1CeSxXF_sh0mM4h5pERrp1lMnnf1wigFa6iHU8uad_X9VTLBmH-g1gqkyOH2qKpolX2DsPZuw/s1600/1208023326_xc3ud-L-1.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="266" q6="true" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhIslEBDuuaWDtLWXB-jhPMs2Jz__l5FwlX4nIuYC8hRhsiWhoygFAAjBQZZ8h3N1CeSxXF_sh0mM4h5pERrp1lMnnf1wigFa6iHU8uad_X9VTLBmH-g1gqkyOH2qKpolX2DsPZuw/s400/1208023326_xc3ud-L-1.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">The first night at the resort - our "welcome dinner" (i.e. open bar!)</td></tr>
</tbody></table>In the evenings, we frequented a local establishment which had no walls. With beach sand under the tables. And tiki torches. And a wading pool. So we pretended we were at the beach. The next morning, we wondered where all that sand came from, but we pressed onward. We hung out in the pool area at midnight, where it was a pleasant 60 degrees. Hotel patrons walked by in jackets and shivered just looking at us, while we laid on the concrete and gazed at the stars while we marveled at how much it resembled Fargo in July -- minus the 7-pound mosquitos.<br />
<br />
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Pretty cool, huh!?</td></tr>
</tbody></table>Nonetheless, the sessions we attended (the reason we were there in the first place!) were actually really fun, and I learned a lot. Plus I met some great colleagues from all over the country, as well as got to know some of my home teammates a lot better. <br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgBRh9fo00FmK9WtY9xny5fGyocxvBhB1x_uig59Ed1qOwviI8QNUcoTm1IihMYT_rYvQQgK4yB8_ERTAxY2-UKyptznI5PXVyROcY5fiKfiHecUQe0RlBGqWWQRbECD_G5a7NLLg/s1600/1208076264_wuPLm-L-1.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="400" q6="true" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgBRh9fo00FmK9WtY9xny5fGyocxvBhB1x_uig59Ed1qOwviI8QNUcoTm1IihMYT_rYvQQgK4yB8_ERTAxY2-UKyptznI5PXVyROcY5fiKfiHecUQe0RlBGqWWQRbECD_G5a7NLLg/s400/1208076264_wuPLm-L-1.jpg" width="266" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Me with a couple of the lovely Fargo ladies.</td></tr>
</tbody></table><br />
At any rate, they fed our group quite well the entire week, and did some fun stuff for us after-hours too. We had a game night which included casino games, Minute to Win It games, and some major Dance Central throw-downs. During the sessions, they gave away great door prizes (probably to keep us from running away to float down the Lazy River). I was the lucky recipient of a sweet new smartphone… though I had to do a little obliterating to get it. Yes, the crowd eagerly cheered me on as I annihilated my piece of #$&% smart phone (it was a 'competitor' phone OS. Yup, that's a real hammer. Like "we're smashing the competition")<br />
<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhIP25fv8QNxmA0RxjwTlxei_PNwncpiftuoaoF3NsYt2xgnfuVAsFp15kLr0DeV9HSzyZFyTtoect4IW8HKIUsinKyxKh7T3leRkBNzvF3NpG4eiel3MM9vB9HD6wnUwWQGsjEsA/s1600/1208060468_35iwy-XL-1.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="266" q6="true" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhIP25fv8QNxmA0RxjwTlxei_PNwncpiftuoaoF3NsYt2xgnfuVAsFp15kLr0DeV9HSzyZFyTtoect4IW8HKIUsinKyxKh7T3leRkBNzvF3NpG4eiel3MM9vB9HD6wnUwWQGsjEsA/s400/1208060468_35iwy-XL-1.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Smashy bang-bang, no more sucky phone for Shanna.</td></tr>
</tbody></table><br />
And then this is what it looked like after I asserted my true feelings about its incompetence...<br />
<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhwfq_IQ36qT9wm7ngQl5zVDq1eCafKJ0f7whU6lWVL1OtWUOGHUXV7bX1ta_Fi6UrzH_jrDSC92mC368W-E2jcQGWfjFvF4OkCDoQWj20QWSo0feLIu8btEhhH7TzOPv7FBnGZSg/s1600/1208060015_rPnQ9-XL-1.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="265" q6="true" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhwfq_IQ36qT9wm7ngQl5zVDq1eCafKJ0f7whU6lWVL1OtWUOGHUXV7bX1ta_Fi6UrzH_jrDSC92mC368W-E2jcQGWfjFvF4OkCDoQWj20QWSo0feLIu8btEhhH7TzOPv7FBnGZSg/s400/1208060015_rPnQ9-XL-1.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">No worries, I got a cool new Samsung Focus for doing this. But I can't use it in Fargo yet (it's AT&T). Whoopsy. So I've gotta wait until Sprint releases their new Windows Phone 7 next week before I get a new one. (My wicked awesome company is buying it for me. I'll even show ya if you say "pretty please".) I'm phoneless in the meantime, but I'm not missing it one bit so far!</td></tr>
</tbody></table>For our mid-week event, they took us to a place called "Rawhide", which was sortof like a cross between Deadwood and Medora (less gambling, more gunfighting). The trip had a little hiccup with our catering order, because instead of having enough food for 150 people they had about enough for 15. So a posse of 135 hungry people (who had also been given free drink tickets, mind you) moseyed on down the dusty trail to the steak house. Where we were promptly turned away. But my clever colleague somehow managed to get us a table, so I was one of the lucky few that got to enjoy a huge steak dinner while the rest of those poor suckers meandered about looking to rustle up a lizard or squirrel for dinner.<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjM_mqD7ObO9nqYvvkHzLx2rDMLPQE1A9GQ-q4-YpSd0wir1ZtDNOepEJdURVgme4XyYE3xhZxQq-0XgKVPgD8k0kmx3oq1Zn1ampMJVE1DJIGKMrgq-RR2gydQLZusyzjborklLg/s1600/IMAG0175.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="266" q6="true" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjM_mqD7ObO9nqYvvkHzLx2rDMLPQE1A9GQ-q4-YpSd0wir1ZtDNOepEJdURVgme4XyYE3xhZxQq-0XgKVPgD8k0kmx3oq1Zn1ampMJVE1DJIGKMrgq-RR2gydQLZusyzjborklLg/s400/IMAG0175.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">The yummiest steak dinner.</td></tr>
</tbody></table>We ravenously gobbled up our steaks with guilty consciences (err, maybe not so much) fully expecting to see our counterparts weeping in the streets from hunger when we left the restaurant. Quite the contrary: they found out the bar attached to the steak house was serving $0.25 bottles of Bud Light during happy hour! We had some catching up to do… before I knew it, I was challenging my manager to a mechanical bullride contest, sporting the little $5 pink cowboy hat I had bought for the Princess at the gift store. My smart-ass co-workers stood by and chanted "Rodeo Queen! Rodeo Queen!" as I hopped on my first bull... only to be dumped off 3 seconds later by the a-hole ride operator who thought it would be funny to turn the sucker on full-tilt when I got on. I tried a second time, made it the full 8 and landed on my feet upon dismount just like a good rodeo queen should. Somewhere along the way I had dislocated my thumb, but amidst my lack of sobriety and the adrenaline from my rodeo rendezvous, I must'a missed that little detail. <br />
<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiN6zcjnyK9HN7RmbYShnwhZu3ie2X4BRPGg5wW_rQpPdsEQ6hFsTHebo1mtyzR-xeXNwk5R4P-EVL_-TGSKcVfbL31iF-fBmoI9BZlSvwnvc-j0cIZg4N-qwuaImuA8ZLE5AX7Lw/s1600/rodeoqueen.bmp" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="400" q6="true" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiN6zcjnyK9HN7RmbYShnwhZu3ie2X4BRPGg5wW_rQpPdsEQ6hFsTHebo1mtyzR-xeXNwk5R4P-EVL_-TGSKcVfbL31iF-fBmoI9BZlSvwnvc-j0cIZg4N-qwuaImuA8ZLE5AX7Lw/s400/rodeoqueen.bmp" width="325" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">I may not wear a sparkly sequined shirt anymore, but I've still got a little shine on the ol' crown. <br />
Not sure if jumping back on a mechanical bull with a busted up thumb was what my Dad meant <br />
when he said, "Cowboy Up and get right back on that horse..."</td></tr>
</tbody></table>So when Friday finally rolled around, I was a little torn about leaving. On one hand, it was the best week I'd had in years. On the other hand, I felt like crap and needed about a 12-hour nap. During my "ride of shame" back to the airport, I may have had to ask the chauffeur to pull the town car over so I could, um, hurl at the side of the freeway. Ugh. The rest of the plane ride home was uneventful, and boy was I ever happy to see my two little munkchins (and my one big one too!) when I got back home. <br />
It was a hell of a week. Rumor has it we'll be doing this offsite once a year. I'm guessing it'll take me exactly that long to recuperate from this year's monkey business. See what happens when they let me out of the house?Shannahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16081428553651389002noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4107147.post-86561058923105230892011-03-08T23:35:00.004-06:002011-12-20T21:32:47.592-06:00I'm Baaaaaack...<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"></div><div style="text-align: center;"> </div>Oh my poor, neglected blog. 2 months ago I made some resolutions (not really your typical New Year's resolutions, but more like promises made to myself). So the blogging in my spare time (what little of that I had left) was the first thing to go! I took a little hiatus, but I'm going to try to work some posts in more frequently. Maybe I'll head back to those regular "Time Machine Tuesday" postings? <br />
<br />
<div style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none;">The first big change was that The Hubs & I made a commitment to cook healthier and eat better. To us, that meant enjoying home-cooked meals together. It meant a lot more planning and more work preparing meals, but it has totally been worth it. We have grocery lists, and menu lists, and stocked up freezer and crock pots and the whole shebang. I know it sounds old-fashioned, but there is something to be said about that family time around the table… listening to Miss Chatterbox talk about the latest daycare gossip, or Mister Messy Face demand "moah 'tatos", and just sharing our day with each other. It's time we've found to be extremely valuable and I wouldn't go back if you paid me to!</div><br />
<div style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none;">We'd also been having some food battles with the little Miss of late, so we started a new "program" to help with that: if she ate what we put in front of her without complaint all week, then we set aside one night a week where she gets to be the boss. So "Asha Picks Night" (Friday) was implemented, and with HUGE success! There's no limits, she can choose whatever she wants to eat either at home (usually Tacos) or out (surprisingly varying in selection!) and we ALL have to eat what she chooses without complaint. As a result, we have had very little resistance from her the rest of the week because she can't wait to pick her current fave on Friday night.</div><br />
<div style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none;">I've started a couple things "just for me" too. I vowed to start doing some things for myself that I really enjoy, which in turn makes me less stressed and indirectly, a better parent I suppose? So I finished a couple books, and got some little projects done around the house. Also, since I enjoy watching TV, and I need to/want to work out so I went for a two-fer. I had about 6 episodes apiece of my favorite TV shows saved up, but they kept getting pushed aside for episodes of Blues Clues and iCarly. So I hooked up a bigger monitor to the desktop computer we have in the storage/crafting/workout/office room and now I watch episodes of the TV shows I love on Hulu while running on the elliptical every night! Win-win!!</div><div style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none;"><br />
I'd been having that creative urge again lately, so I've been sporadically working on some digital scrapbooking in the evenings after the kids go to bed and after my workout. Mostly just trying to get that hard drive full of digital pics of my kiddos organized into something tangible. It has been a daunting task, but quite a walk down memory lane. I also had the opportunity to do some fun video editing stuff lately (more on that in another post soon to come). But I also started writing. Not blogging writing, but something else. I can't tell you what just yet, but I promise my blog followers will be among the first to know! (mwah-ha-ha, sounds cryptic, no?). And that has been taking up quite a bit of that elusive "spare time" of mine as well.</div><br />
Add to all that the fact that I got the opportunity to take not one, but TWO week-long trips out of town for work, and suffice it to say that when I got home from those trips, the munchkins didn't let me out of their sight for a full week for fear I'd leave them again. Not that Daddy didn’t do a perfectly wonderful job of caring for them in my absence, but…he's just not Mommy. <br />
<br />
<div style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none;">So I apologize to my devoted readers (both of you!) for the lack of blog posts since the beginning of 2011. Never fear, I haven't run out of things to say! Haha! But now that we're getting a little more accustomed to the new changes we've made, and now that the days are getting longer (though the weather not so much warmer) I'm planning on devoting one night a week to getting back to my usual shenanigans.</div>Let me give you a little TMT "catch-up" of our life over the past 2 months:<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi3kMC5ztavTJtlqCY5SQ0pX5LcRrU8tsagH4faEqx606kvyK0HLgsQLseLPE1IWTPdTrtgbkb0RgTgZvMJrcFdj4l0Y2k6GnWM2JAI_jQWfIIn7xBac9TLzxk4jWkP7vSFdWHPNQ/s1600/1.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="213" q6="true" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi3kMC5ztavTJtlqCY5SQ0pX5LcRrU8tsagH4faEqx606kvyK0HLgsQLseLPE1IWTPdTrtgbkb0RgTgZvMJrcFdj4l0Y2k6GnWM2JAI_jQWfIIn7xBac9TLzxk4jWkP7vSFdWHPNQ/s320/1.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">We had our very first sleepover...</td></tr>
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</div><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh6F8hJx-ev1JMM3OZw_FoBeo40hKs8DSY_CZzOd5Q2toYE2r3d4t_3QIYI8kZMUarmFMKjh7TfeHImBmATDEAJ4GS0i_H-m5k4Ay1DPZyjqep4NepQQUmzbkLz2zy0UPNSJAVexw/s1600/2.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="213" q6="true" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh6F8hJx-ev1JMM3OZw_FoBeo40hKs8DSY_CZzOd5Q2toYE2r3d4t_3QIYI8kZMUarmFMKjh7TfeHImBmATDEAJ4GS0i_H-m5k4Ay1DPZyjqep4NepQQUmzbkLz2zy0UPNSJAVexw/s320/2.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Went to daycare in our PJ's...</td></tr>
</tbody></table><div style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none;"><br />
</div><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjZxvq3ruOqfyLsVzlZkmdH_8c_J-W7VfmuHjcB02XYkNxKOhzaAsiLu4ZzSoFno84YskcPwyB89glbQL5fdkJweECMjKijfyWlyWwTU8wPqweKlOfdG_H-Cv4k49ZpoHYBssjHmw/s1600/3.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="213" q6="true" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjZxvq3ruOqfyLsVzlZkmdH_8c_J-W7VfmuHjcB02XYkNxKOhzaAsiLu4ZzSoFno84YskcPwyB89glbQL5fdkJweECMjKijfyWlyWwTU8wPqweKlOfdG_H-Cv4k49ZpoHYBssjHmw/s320/3.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">We've reunited with old friends… </td></tr>
</tbody></table><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgjruPnSqobIIncoNjllZcw6uZxvJqfFUXqTbSvPYspVvY9Aa_feJ3i5vU0c70VhvbKYJC5ba4og5u01A-2U631BZ3C6U0_4oFLQywqKBBaEfXxl26N9WyIs4brFYfymMm1kG_u2A/s1600/4.png" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="320" q6="true" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgjruPnSqobIIncoNjllZcw6uZxvJqfFUXqTbSvPYspVvY9Aa_feJ3i5vU0c70VhvbKYJC5ba4og5u01A-2U631BZ3C6U0_4oFLQywqKBBaEfXxl26N9WyIs4brFYfymMm1kG_u2A/s320/4.png" width="213" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Got fashionable...</td></tr>
</tbody></table><div style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none;"></div><br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhUJYOnVLW40uN0p5Sk5nyn-Wn2aOMSVyXw-lxZg5TFsx6dKTpbU9ssoe3kJVqrSLszIfdlanLJitAtraQ8Z_g2efPhyphenhyphenz1x_eskXzr18V3drJyDnnWU4FQ4FY9Uzo69M0uT6MTUPA/s1600/5.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="213" q6="true" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhUJYOnVLW40uN0p5Sk5nyn-Wn2aOMSVyXw-lxZg5TFsx6dKTpbU9ssoe3kJVqrSLszIfdlanLJitAtraQ8Z_g2efPhyphenhyphenz1x_eskXzr18V3drJyDnnWU4FQ4FY9Uzo69M0uT6MTUPA/s320/5.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Raised a little hell with our buddies… </td></tr>
</tbody></table> <br />
<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none; text-align: center;"><div style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEikOEsndWpxMBZlFefdl3tZoyXUtIpd_XDZwwTwqQuoJ3Jc7_AXbIeAO2DgRICEhXgNvFUchkNJR5r_2WxLuoViXBeKrrdvhgyCi7OEyw92pBXsP_FUYrKQ5NeLH_9KkaF7cMeqyQ/s1600/7.png" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="320" q6="true" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEikOEsndWpxMBZlFefdl3tZoyXUtIpd_XDZwwTwqQuoJ3Jc7_AXbIeAO2DgRICEhXgNvFUchkNJR5r_2WxLuoViXBeKrrdvhgyCi7OEyw92pBXsP_FUYrKQ5NeLH_9KkaF7cMeqyQ/s320/7.png" width="213" /></a></div></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><div style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none;">Got a new big-boy haircut...</div></td></tr>
</tbody></table><div style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none;"><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiLU7LrW9RjlIJ9OhDxA-DVkEoldRei637PhAjoE3kRZZmg2f6xiiUBE6O9nue5ae9yPp5XyqsoQXv-DM9xnWg84e2h74DoCcVTMuHolaisZvtUMoDWkqAKN-0k1z7EjkXeYEcy1A/s1600/6.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="213" q6="true" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiLU7LrW9RjlIJ9OhDxA-DVkEoldRei637PhAjoE3kRZZmg2f6xiiUBE6O9nue5ae9yPp5XyqsoQXv-DM9xnWg84e2h74DoCcVTMuHolaisZvtUMoDWkqAKN-0k1z7EjkXeYEcy1A/s320/6.jpg" width="320" /></a></td><><><> <div></div></></></></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none; text-align: center;">Celebrated a very belated Christmas with some great friends… </td></tr>
</tbody></table><br />
</div><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgaEVDxZXKk1Fa_8obVdKDUUq-7CZsxRaTaZTmkKZ_bfJS9yD666VDLpOYK643t1a79Jfe9DirUHvpEEzjT62Bm5_YE_qK7ycLd34-tCmMHxm1uM7PDydKJP0IRRdppRfConzR9cA/s1600/8.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="213" q6="true" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgaEVDxZXKk1Fa_8obVdKDUUq-7CZsxRaTaZTmkKZ_bfJS9yD666VDLpOYK643t1a79Jfe9DirUHvpEEzjT62Bm5_YE_qK7ycLd34-tCmMHxm1uM7PDydKJP0IRRdppRfConzR9cA/s320/8.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Snuggled to stay warm in this ridiculous arctic weather…</td></tr>
</tbody></table><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhpaPowtjoXD9LeErXFHdu9ceqlUXmd4ckDSSXvD5DKBGvapiXFGLaaMP2Noh6oXscFxOT2r2u7-6J7fOqX8oTDvRn6Z-DH7tUvn6I14aFQbmouSkhXZvtoLZXT55o7VE9Ksiq7oA/s1600/9.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="213" q6="true" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhpaPowtjoXD9LeErXFHdu9ceqlUXmd4ckDSSXvD5DKBGvapiXFGLaaMP2Noh6oXscFxOT2r2u7-6J7fOqX8oTDvRn6Z-DH7tUvn6I14aFQbmouSkhXZvtoLZXT55o7VE9Ksiq7oA/s320/9.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Hung out with family...</td></tr>
</tbody></table><br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh14j-jXDULT8rfqJkWjWUAoJTKRrKZ2TYxh09mPsW7lugrngjd_XMQVU0I0DrcfHMgfLFtGe2VzC9h8aIBle695OcYun-KRxSlp00ShnHl_EmhMiQV8UGnR84HtP-Z6gCBXNv16g/s1600/10.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="320" q6="true" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh14j-jXDULT8rfqJkWjWUAoJTKRrKZ2TYxh09mPsW7lugrngjd_XMQVU0I0DrcfHMgfLFtGe2VzC9h8aIBle695OcYun-KRxSlp00ShnHl_EmhMiQV8UGnR84HtP-Z6gCBXNv16g/s320/10.jpg" width="213" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">And celebrated Daddy's #32 birthday... (and no, he hadn't been drinking in this pic. <br />
He will probably kill me for posting it for all the world to see, <br />
but I think it happens to be a hilarious photo of him, and it's my blog, so there.)</td></tr>
</tbody></table><br />
And look at that! It's 11:30pm. I need my beauty rest, so it's goodbye for tonight. Stay tuned for next week's post: More on my travels to faraway lands. Thanks for coming back! I've missed you!<br />
<div class="separator" style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none; clear: both; text-align: center;"></div>Shannahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16081428553651389002noreply@blogger.com4