tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-37010259602168527142024-03-14T04:06:02.947-07:00Confessions of a Disgruntled Army Wife101 Ways to Live a Full and Complete Life While Having a Government Entity Join You In BedAnnehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08350324287027740120noreply@blogger.comBlogger163125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3701025960216852714.post-11716968305516288822015-01-01T07:59:00.001-08:002015-01-01T07:59:07.486-08:00We've moved!Though I am doubtful anyone still follows this blog, I have taken it over to<br />
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www.trafficcones.me<br />
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where you can follow our latest journey!Annehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08350324287027740120noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3701025960216852714.post-57773169146505420932014-11-17T12:47:00.002-08:002014-11-17T12:51:14.656-08:00Bitter or BetterThis idea has been hanging heavy on my mind for awhile now. But, before I get into that, I will say that we saw the MFM doctor again today. Although the reason for it is shit, it is nice for someone who is high strung under normal circumstances to be able to check in on the little babes so much. <br />
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And they are just fine, though the picture doesn't really do them justice since they move so much and its hard to zero in on them. They both measure the same and they look like actual little babies now. They were kicking their spider legs at each other. The good news is that we were able to rule out conjoined twins today, since they have finally separated a bit. The bad news is that time number three searching for a membrane was still not successful. <br />
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I know there is still hope that we might find this paper thin membrane everyone talks about, but the hope isn't great. The babies were touching on yet another plane today and that means that's 3 different places the babies can touch. The odds aren't good that they can somehow do that through a membrane that is meant to separate them.<br />
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Still, today we have healthy little beans, and that's what matters most. The doctor on duty didn't mince any words when it came to our chances, but he did tell me something that was (oddly) reassuring. He said "I wont tell you not to worry, but I will tell you this. There is NOTHING you can do. Nothing that you can do or will do is going to make a difference (obviously notwithstanding the normal things like smoking, drinking, ect)". He said that hes seen the highest risk pregnancies go off without a hitch, and normal run of the mill pregnancies go to emergency in one minute. And that the technology and practices get better every day. But in the end ... the chips will fall where they lie, and there isn't much anyone can do.<br />
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For a self proclaimed control freak, it isn't always easy to just let fate do its thing. Still, in a weird way, its nice to know that I can let it go a little because the worrying isn't going to keep my babies safe.<br />
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And that leads me to what Ive been grappling with, truthfully since we found out we were expecting. You see, after just one miscarriage and a lot of heartache in the past, I find it hard to be excited about pregnancy. Instead I throw the stick down and say "okay, now lets see whats going to go wrong".<br />
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At first I worried about chemical pregnancies and I was jealous of those who got to announce.<br />
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Then I was worried about miscarriage, and was jealous of those who were in their second trimester.<br />
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Then I worried about missed miscarriage and I was jealous of women who didn't have to go through that. <br />
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Then came the twins ... and the type of twins ... and I was jealous of anyone who got to have a "regular" pregnancy.<br />
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You see the theme here? While jealousy is a very normal part of being human, the problem with too much of it is that it can sour you pretty quickly. It can poison your mind and your heart, and suddenly it can have you believe that not only is EVERYONE else getting what they want, but they are doing it in a direct attack on you. <br />
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Its hard not to compare. Its hard to wonder why crackheads and pedophiles get healthy babies, and you fight for every one you have (or every one you want). Its hard to see people breeze through life and never seem to struggle. <br />
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But I suppose, if I was thinking about it, that we all have something that could be coveted. Some of us have babies, some have husbands ... some have jobs, or homes, or families that love us. Some of us have mothers, some have fathers. Some of us have beauty or brains. If you start playing that game, suddenly everyone is an asshole who is taking what is "yours".<br />
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But it hit me, not long ago, that I can control this. I can let this experience make me bitter, or I can let it make me better. I need to look inside myself and deal with it in there. Deal with the haves, and the have nots. <br />
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Deal with the fact that this is scary. <br />
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Deal with the fact that Im scared.<br />
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Deal with the fact that we might lose our babies.<br />
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Deal with the fact that life isn't "fair".<br />
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Deal with the fact that there isn't one pool of happiness and everyone only gets to take from some finite share. That no ones uterus, or babies, or experiences have anything to do with my own. They don't take away from whats happening and they don't contribute to it.<br />
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I think its normal to feel pangs of jealousy, or even hurt. If we lose these babies I will never look at twins the same. I think I will always be envious of anyone who has twins. But there is a difference between being envious and deciding that your situation is the only one that matters.<br />
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So Ive decided to make a choice. A conscious choice to not let myself go down that road. I have to deal with this head on. Not deflect it. Not minimize it. I need to hurt when I need to, and I need to feel joy when I do. Nothing is going to "jinx" me and nothing is going to "give me luck". I have faith in God and I have a lot of support. Whatever happens to these sweet babies from here, at least we know we had them.<br />
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On that note, we went public, a week earlier than I was expecting. I was hesitant, but so glad we did. I forget that everything gets easier when you have a huge support system, and I have one of the best. Just seeing all the thoughts, prayers, and positive thoughts was enough to really make me feel positive. And we lived to see another day. Annehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08350324287027740120noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3701025960216852714.post-51323516844144827642014-11-13T21:15:00.005-08:002014-11-13T21:15:51.112-08:00Momos arent the worst thing!We had our appointment with the MFM specialist on Monday. While I thought I was prepared for anything, the appointment took a turn for the worst pretty quickly.<br />
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Allen was off that day, which meant he would get his first look at the twinks. I was hoping and praying to see a dividing membrane, but I would be content with two heartbeats. Always hoping for two heartbeats, every time. Its a bit exhausting, all this worry.<br />
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So the tech asks what we know about identical twins, and is impressed by our extensive knowledge. She assures us that momos are so rare that shes bound to find a membrane today. My confidence grew that my worries were just Google fed, and we would actually be just fine with mo/di twins.<br />
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That didn't go quite as planned. From the beginning, the twins have been intertwined. They just don't want to let go of one another. While that is sweet, when you know what it means, its also scary. The fact that they can not only touch, but can touch in different forms / parts, usually means that there is no membrane.<br />
<br />A membrane should keep them apart. Even if they were to back up to the membrane and be next to one another, they should not be able to touch constantly and in various ways. Im not a tech, or a doctor, but I know this.<br />
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So no, theres no membrane. And she asks to do a transvaginal (of course), because every single person swears they will be the one to find the stupid membrane. But no one ever does. And everyone swears that momos are SO RARE and the membrane is TOTALLY going to be found, but no one sees what we do on that screen. <br />
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There. Is. No. Membrane.<br />
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While that upsets me in a lot of ways, at this point Im frustrated because I just want to move past it already. There is no damn membrane so lets get to the point - our pregnancy is so rare and high risk that we are basically a freak show. Got it. <br />
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But the tech wont give up, and the MFM doctor comes in. This is when things go from yucky news to downright scary. The MFM doctor is concerned that the twins don't move independently. Before she can rule out conjoined, she wants to see them separate in certain parts of their body. Although I know in my head that last time they separated, that doesn't prevent me from being scared to death.<br />
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The tech has the wand as far as it can go, and the MFM doctor is pushing on my stomach trying to get the twins to budge. They refuse. The tech and doctor keep apologizing for hurting me (and it does hurt quite a bit), but I just want them to get the babies to move so we all feel reassured.<br />
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The twins were so stubborn and they wouldn't budge. The doctor told the tech to put suspected conjoined and the tech did, then went back to abdominal just in case. FINALLY twin A slid down and put their head on Twin B's butt. While they were still touching, the doctor said that was enough to put the chance down to about 10%. We still haven't "ruled out" conjoined and have to go back on Monday. <br />
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<strong>Troublemaker Twinks</strong></div>
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Then the doctor, whom I sure was just trying to be sensitive, took my hands in her hands and looked me square in the eye. She told me she was pretty positive these twins were momo's (at least) and that meant that we were in for a very long road. She told me we had to come back next week for a consultation, where we were going to hear some very scary things. She specifically mentioned "guaranteed preemies", "long hospital stay" and "stillbirth". Although I knew all of these things, for some reason hearing her say them brought me to tears. I guess its different when youre Googling worst case scenarios and your medical professional is telling you that your odds are, frankly, not great.<br />
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She did wrap up by saying that modern medicine was amazing, and making great strides every day. She also said that she can name two moms right now whose momos were alive and thriving, healthy little girls that youd never know were high risk preemies. <br />
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While that made me feel better, I just had a break down when they left the room. Although I am grateful for the chance, I don't understand why we have to go through this. Why us? Why not just a baby to add to our family? I know that so many people never even get this far, and I need to count our blessings, but its hard.<br />
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Its hard not to wonder every second of the day if the twins are okay, if today is the day that we officially become a statistic. Oh, Ill say, I had momos too, but I lost them. They died for no other reason than the egg split a day later than it should have. Just one day. I couldn't protect them from that one day.<br />
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Its hard not to worry about the hospital stay, or missing my kids and husband, or money. <br />
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Its hard not to worry about how well feel when we see our babies struggling in the NICU when they should be cozy inside me.<br />
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Its hard not to worry about how well feel when we cant buy a thing, we cant decorate, we cant plan. When we should be stocking up on diapers and sales on baby gear, well have to just pass it by and say "IF the babies are born, THEN well buy things". We wont purchase so much as a onesie until the twins are safely out of me. Although I know no one is promised a baby, no matter how healthy they are or how great things look, its hard to carry that with you all the time. 50/50. You might get a baby, you might not. It all depends on the winds of fate. Or the plan that is already written. <br />
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All of this is a lot to take on. Im hesitant, but we have chosen to announce at the standard 12 weeks if we make it that far. We want to celebrate the peanuts for as long as we have them. Although part of me thinks I should just keep it quiet, the larger part knows that I cannot possibly go on as if they don't exist. As if they never existed. They are woven into the tapestry of who I am, just as much as my kids that are living. And the one who is not.<br />
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2 years ago yesterday we lost our baby bean. I thought I would never recover, but I did. We got through. And we have Gabrielle. I just keep thinking, no matter what well make it through. But I do know we wont make it through unchanged.<br />
<br />I cant tell if that's a good thing or a bad thing. Annehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08350324287027740120noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3701025960216852714.post-25207769497156433052014-11-05T20:21:00.002-08:002014-11-05T20:21:19.505-08:00Twinsies Its been over a year since I posted anything here. Life gets crazy - two little ones, moving around the country, just being ...<br />
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I feel like I have to chronicle this journey though. I don't know why, or what compels me to do so. Maybe Ill be writing through my grief at some point. Maybe Ill be giving others hope. Or a voice. Or a place to know they aren't alone. <br />
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Whatever the case, here it goes. Im bringing blogging back ... but not under the funniest of terms.<br />
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Allen and returned to Fort Irwin in August as a pit stop to our new life. He had just graduated school and life was good. We decided to take the kids to Disneyland as our joint birthday celebration / farewell to California. <br />
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Gabrielle had just weaned, and I knew my cycle would return at some point, though I was quite concerned it had stayed away for a whole year. Baby fever had majorly returned, and we were anxiously awaiting the "green light" from nature to begin trying for our next addition.<br />
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Before going to Disney, I got a teasing text from a friend that said "don't bring home any more souvenirs!". We have a strong suspicion that John was our present we brought home from at 2010 trip to Disney world. I laughed and said "whatever, that would be great!". Famous last words.<br />
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I know my body and Natural Family Planning enough to know that ovulation was nearing, so I warned my husband that a decision to do those activities would probably lead to a baby. He was on board so we threw caution to the wind and hoped we'd have something to celebrate soon. <br />
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Heh. In hindsight, that makes me chuckle.<br />
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We arrived at our temporary home (a pit stop before our real move) and to the hotel that would be our home the next three months. Things went quite wrong from the beginning and I felt TERRIBLE. I had felt that way before, but the test was negative so I thought maybe I was just travel lagged. Still, I kept telling Allen that either I was pregnant or crazy. He told me it was crazy and to STOP taking tests. Sure enough, the faintest of lines appeared. I walked out of the bathroom, threw him the test and said "SEE?! Not crazy!". That's the kind of romance you get on kid #3.<br />
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The tests got darker over the days, but something felt wrong. I don't know what it was, but I just had an ominous feeling about things. The first scare came when I used those stupid Clearblue weeks estimators and it went from 2-3 to 3+ back to 2-3. We spent one whole weekend waiting for a miscarriage that never came. Finally I took another and it was a solid 3+. Waste of money and time, those things are.<br />
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Then the 7 week scan showed a tiny little baby with a heartbeat, but measuring very small. A week behind. I knew the date I got my BFP and that would have made it 4 DPO. If you know anything about NFP, you know that's not remotely possible. So I was sent home with the instructions to wait two weeks and come back for a follow up "viability scan". Most slow growers do not go on past the second trimester. Another two weeks of hell followed, where I kept saying "well, IF the baby survives, which it wont". I had even started to feel like I had grieved the pregnancy and I was ready to move on to the next step.<br />
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I feel like I have to put this photo here to show that this is what we saw the whole time. One heartbeat. One little baby. I have since seen the ultrasound on the computer at the OB. There was not a second of that scan where you would ever guess it was not just a small measuring singleton baby. <br />
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So I went back two weeks later, so nervous I could throw up. My two girlfriends went with me, even though I said Id be fine and I just wanted to get it over with. Im so glad there were there now.</div>
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The tech did an abdominal first. She knew how nervous I was, so she said "see? Baby has grown, heres the heart, great rate ....". I cried so hard I shook the picture on the screen. I couldnt believe I went in thinking I would lose the baby, only to find that s/he was perfect. And they did look perfect and measured right on target (2 days behind this time, but thats fine given I wasn't temping or charting).</div>
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So she moves the scanner around for awhile and we see baby, but s/he isnt really moving. In fact, the whole picture looks strange. S/he isn't moving, but it looks like its ... morphing? I thought the picture was just really bad.</div>
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The tech asks if she can do a transvaginal. Of course I insist she tell me why and whats wrong but she just said it all is great and she needs to back herself up for her records. I empty my bladder and go back thinking its for sure terrible news. She inserts the wand, we see baby and a heartbeat. I start to joke "hey, how many are in there?!" because even though baby isn't moving much, it looked like it was flipping back and forth. The tech was really quiet. She then went back to abdominal, again saying everything was fine, she just needed to look one more time.</div>
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Then I saw what looked like another heartbeat ... but there was already a heartbeat? That didn't make sense. She finally said that she was sure it was fine, but there did look to be two babies (SHOCK!!!!!!)). She called the doctor in and they discussed what could be "machine mirroring" which is where the machine malfunctions and the images mirror one another. They were about to have me come back in two weeks to see what they thought, when the babies very clearly broke apart ... put fluid in between them ... and showed us all that there was no mistake. Baby A and Baby B - measured great, heart rate great .... identical spontaneous twins.</div>
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After the initial shock, we were ecstatic. I told my husband in a fun way, and we told our closest friends and family. And then we googled.</div>
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Oh dear. Don't ever google, thats what they say. They are right you know. </div>
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We found out that not only are our risk factors with identical through the roof, they are even more so with mono/mono twins, which is what we believe we are dealing with since they were practically intertwined the whole time. We have an appointment on Monday for the level II scan to see if they are mono/mono or mono/di. We are praying for mono/di twins, as the risks are slightly lower, but the chances are slim after what we saw. </div>
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I want to chronicle this journey because I want my babies to be remembered, no matter how long they are in the world. I fell hopelessly in love with them both the second they broke from their heart shape and showed themselves. I want nothing more than to bring them home, safe, and I will stop at nothing until we do. But I know the reality we are facing .... all I can do is pray. </div>
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Annehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08350324287027740120noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3701025960216852714.post-88996468290849625512013-09-22T20:50:00.002-07:002013-09-22T20:50:56.454-07:00To my baby boy, on the eve of your second birthday ...<div style="text-align: center;">
So here we are, an entire year later. </div>
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Do you remember this kid?</div>
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Me either. </div>
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Seems like a lifetime ago that we celebrated your first birthday. Ive spent the entire weekend trying to recall the past year, but even beyond that, the first few weeks of your life. Im amazed at how quickly my memory bank has deleted much of that time frame - how I cannot quite recall the smell of your hair before your first bath, or how I remember how tired I was with you, but I cannot recall the first time you smiled at me on purpose. I suppose it has to clear itself out to make room for the other things that its had to store there lately.</div>
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Things like how you crack us up with your dancing to the Fresh Beat Band. Or how you will rarely speak to us when we ask you to, but you are all too happy to repeat any "bad word" slip ups. Things like how you already know how to use a screwdriver, or how you arent afraid to climb to the top of the highest slide (much to my rising blood pressure's dismay).</div>
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Youve had quite a year, for being so small. We celebrated your first birthday with a huge party - our house was full of family and friends and love (and a ton of presents). We spent the fall season going to pumpkin patches, and you had FOUR different costumes for all the parties and trick or treating that we did. </div>
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It never ceases to amaze me how you've always been the life of the party. Sometimes thats a great thing, and sometimes it means that mommy's nerves are shot, but ever since the day you were born you've been commanding attention - all eyes on you, all the time. There are times you do that with humor, and times you do that through screaming at the top of your lungs, but no matter which way youve done it, you are certainly in no danger of being overlooked.</div>
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When you were a baby we used to say "oh, hell grow out of it". Turns out, you didn't, and you still havent. But it also turns out that this personality trait serves you well. You dont let anyone push you around. You dont easily get your feelings hurt, and you are very good at getting what you want. Though that drives us crazy now, one day that is going to be your best personality trait.</div>
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You celebrated your second Christmas, but you still werent sure what to think. </div>
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Then we got word that we were going to move across the country. So in your second year of life, we packed up the only house you had ever known - the one we waited for you in, the one that we brought you home to, the one that we got to know each other in - and we moved across the country to the California desert. You were an amazing traveler and mover - most babies would lose their minds when taken out of their element the way you were, but you amazed us with your ability to drive and hotel hop. </div>
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Mommy was also expecting your baby sister at this time. She was incredibly sick and there were days that she could barely get off the couch. For as energetic as you were, you seemed to know when to give her a little slack. </div>
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Before we had you, we didnt think wed ever have a baby together. We had even given up on the idea for awhile. And then, there you were, and it was like life before you was all just a dream. The past two years have been the most amazing of our lives. Like most parents, some days we wonder what it would be like to go back to the days where we slept in, had money, could do whatever we wanted ... but we agree that life without being your mommy and daddy wouldnt be worth living. For every second that is stressful, or tiring, comes a million years worth of laughter and joy. YOU are our joy. We have never laughed as much as we do now that we have you. </div>
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I hope that you will always be just who you are. I hope that you will always stand your ground the way you do now. I hope that you will always hold onto what you believe with such fierce intensity. I hope that you will always love as big as you do now. I hope that all the things that make you a very interesting child will make you a very interesting adult. There is no one like you in this world - there is no other John Douglas Cone that is just like you. And you become more amazing every day.</div>
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Now you are a big brother as well as a little brother. And just like with you, as soon as Gabrielle came into our family, we could not remember what life was like without her. You are a wonderful big brother - you genuinely love your sister, and already want to protect her. I hope that the two of you will remain this close for the rest of your lives. We wont always be around to take care of you, and that is why we want you to have each other. I hope that you will remember that brothers and sisters fight - sometimes big fights - but it doesnt change the fact that you need each other. Daddy and I will do everything in our power to foster a loving relationship for the both of you because its one of the most important ones you will have in this lifetime.</div>
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Its hard to believe that another year has gone by already. There are times when I am so excited to see who you are going to become, but there are other times when I want to grab the clock and make it stop going so fast. Every time we have a day that is more fussy than smiles, I try to remember that one day you wont need me this much. I remember that one day you will have your own children and your own life, maybe somewhere far away. I try to remember that this time is finite. </div>
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I cannot believe what an incredible 1 year old youve been, and I am so excited to see what an amazing two year old youll be. </div>
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Annehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08350324287027740120noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3701025960216852714.post-84439527512393648082013-06-24T17:06:00.001-07:002013-06-24T17:06:08.080-07:00Countdown to baby - Week 8, Kids Rooms, and managing GD (all at once). The last two weeks Ive spent getting the kids areas done. I had done them before, but with the influx of new items for miss Gabrielle, I had a ton of work cut out for me making space, and getting rid of some things that I had held onto that we dont *really* need.<br />
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Lets start with the bathroom ... sweet Jesus, the bathroom.<br />
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So heres my thing. I have 2.5 bathrooms in this house. One is mine, one is the kids, one is a half bath for guests. My thought process (as flawed as I suppose it was) was that I could pull off a "kids" bathroom that would be okay for all of them. Yes, even the 14 year old.<br />
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Let me tell you about my teenager. 1: He only showers when FORCED. 2: He sleeps with no sheets on his bed because he "prefers the bare mattress". 3: He couldnt care less about his room and will also only clean that when forced. He will do anything he can to get out of toothbrushing, face washing, or generally anything that involves this particular room of the house.<br />
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So, to my surprise, he was PISSED when he saw the shower curtain. Like, could not believe the nerve I had to buy this thing pissed. I had no idea hed even notice. Sure, its not "manly" ... in fact, its pretty kid like, but thats the point. I used primary colors for everything else and I figured he doesnt even use that room enough to notice ...<br />
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So I made him a deal that if he takes an unforced shower every day for a month, Ill do the bathroom in whatever he chooses. You want to guess what day were on with that? Yeah, zero. So the effing shower curtain stays. I like it.<br />
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The green bucket is for bathtub toys, the big red one is for dirty clothes, and the yellow one is for wipes and toilet paper. We are nothing if not functional. The red sign above the towel says "So fresh and so clean, clean".<br />
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<b><i>Honestly, its not THAT bad</i></b>. </div>
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Then I moved on to the kids room. I spent quite a bit of time on this when we first moved here, so it wasnt a huge stretch, but there were some last details I wanted to get done.</div>
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I have mentioned how base housing is the thorn in my side, yes? I mean, dont get me wrong, its not terrible ... and I am grateful to have a home that we can live in comfortably. But, just like any other base house, you get what you get ... so we work with what we get.</div>
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Though, the kids room is one of my favorites. When I started out with the concept, it was "budget". I really needed something that would fit in my budget ... and then after that the priorities were "good for two", "boy / girl friendly", and "fun". </div>
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This is one room where I really feel like I nailed all the things I wanted to do. It cost around $200 for the whole damn thing, its a lot of fun, and it is super functional. I forgot to take a picture of the side of the room with the diaper storage and doorway gate, but you get the idea. I like that they dont sleep next to each other ... although I doubt either of them will sleep in here because they are both spoiled rotten, but I guess you never know. I took the colors from the quilt that my friend Brooke made for John, got some crib bedding that matched, hung wall stickers and Chinese lanterns, and put two of my favorite Bible verses above their beds. </div>
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Johns is Jeremiah 1:5 "Before I formed you in the womb, I knew you. Before you were born, I set you apart". </div>
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Gabrielles is 1 Samuel 1:27 "For this child I have prayed and the Lord has granted the desires of my heart". </div>
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Both are special to each of them, for different reasons. I love that they are in here. </div>
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<b><i>Lots of play area in this room - definitely enough for the two of them! They have an IKEA toddler table and a toy bin that they can access easily. The blue bin next to the glider is the book bin. </i></b></div>
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<b><i>His and hers closet space! I finally have all of Gabby's clothes hung and sorted. Most of them are in the dresser in the changing table, but Im trying to be better about hanging things too. </i></b></div>
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Whew, so another two rooms totally complete. And how is the rest of the house faring, you wonder? Eh, I thought that a total declutter was going to mean that the house NEVER gets dirty. And that doesnt seem to happen. Granted, its dirty with functional things - as in, the things that I pick up are things that we are using, not just things we dont have a place for. And actually cleaning up is easier as well because everything really does have a place. Still, Im still searching for that magical way to not have to clean EVERY SINGLE DAY. Maybe the secret is that you have to have the kids out of the house first ....</div>
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Also, Ive been managing my latest companion, which is the diagnosis of gestational diabetes. Its not as bad as it sounds, but its certainly not as easy as I thought. I never considered myself someone who ate terrible, but this is a HUGE BIG HUGE wake up call as to all the things I do need to change. I dont want this to be my life forever ... my diet is strictly controlled, from portions to food groups to time that I eat. I have to test my sugar 4 times a day by sticking my finger and testing my blood. I am starting to realize that I better really change the way I get to eat now, or else Im going to be paying for it later in life as I eat for survival. I think Id prefer to forgo some of those weekly ice cream trips or those late night snacks so that I can have them later in life .... not that I want to go crazy once Im off the diet, but I want to KEEP the ability to have birthday cake every few months. Id like to be able to have a dessert if I choose on special occasions. And that means that I need to change my look on food - its not a "reward", its fuel. And if I keep using cheap fuel, my engine is going to burn out. And nobody's got time for that. </div>
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<br />Annehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08350324287027740120noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3701025960216852714.post-67351676078382521162013-06-10T19:25:00.003-07:002013-06-10T19:25:30.039-07:00Countdown to baby, Week 10 (holy crap!) - Living Room / Entry WayYou know what the bane of my "Pinterest house addiction" is? Post housing.<br />
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Sigh. Its just so ... white. White walls. White blinds. White ceiling fan. It seems like the worst color in the world to keep a house that has revolving door tenants, but I guess its the cheapest thing to maintain.<br />
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So here we are, week three of my challenge to make this damn house a home. I have to say, Im most pleased with the living room, of all the rooms so far. We definitely spend the most time in here, so it was important to me that I make something functional and fun. Bonus points for cozy.<br />
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This is sort of a mess, but its an ORGANIZED mess (thats what I keep telling myself anyways). We lost the playroom when we left GA, but there is just no way we can keep John's toys upstairs. We are rarely ever up there and there is no blasted way Im walking up and down for new toys every day. Not happening.</div>
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So we set up a nice little area for the bean. Lots of trucks, an art easel, and a box of books. I actually did go through that entire toybox and throw away the old, broken, outdated toys. That took an entire day but it was worth it. And yes, its still full, even with all of those gone ... I dont get it either.</div>
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And then we have a spot for baby Gabby. I need to put the newborn cradle on the top so that I have somewhere to put her if shes sleeping and I need to tend to something. Im not sure Ill want to leave her in the Mamaroo if John is running around and Im trying to tend to them both. He is QUICK and I think Id prefer her up high and out of curious baby reach. The brown cube holds our cloth diapers! Youd never know it, but its true. </div>
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I absolutely love our entryway sign:</div>
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Entryway and stairs. I put up hooks for the purses, since they always seem to get thrown on the floor. This is SO much easier. </div>
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Also, my pictures always seem a little crooked. Makes me wonder if my balance is all off.</div>
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Not too many changes here. Moved the lamps to another place, since they were always in Johns direct line of fire. Cleaned out the cabinets in the entertainment center and organized them. Also got my P90x and Insanity so I put those in there too ... I cant wait to get started on them after baby. </div>
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Put a few wall decorations up, moved some frames around, generally tried to fill in the spaces without it being TOO much. Printed out some pictures so it actually looks like we like each other. Took a lot of the crap out of here that didnt belong ....</div>
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So, another room done. It feels so much better to be in here with more room, and less crap. In general, the entire house is starting to feel like its opening up and getting a lot more functional and easier to clean. We still have a few little touches to complete, like getting something for securing and hiding the TV wires and well eventually have to set up a diaper / nursing box for Gabby like we have for John. One thing at a time though and so far so good!</div>
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This week Im focusing on the kids rooms. The littles room is mostly completed, but I need to get their closest organized, take inventory of Gabrielle's things, and get rid of some of the toys that are just sitting up there. The progress Ive made so far has definitely motivated me to keep going! </div>
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<br />Annehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08350324287027740120noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3701025960216852714.post-62055811931451125502013-06-08T07:49:00.002-07:002013-06-08T07:56:44.685-07:00On raising the spirited child ...In all the years we dreamed for a baby, we thought about a lot of things. We dreamed that s/he would be cute, that s/he would be smart, that they would grow up to be something wonderful and world changing.<br />
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One thing that we never really dwelled on was their temperament. It turns out - we should have.<br />
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On September 23, 2011 we delivered 9 pounds, 1 ounce of very determined squish.<br />
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From the gate, John was .... difficult. He HATED to sleep. Hated it. He cried most of the day because he was exhausted, but there was so much to see, and so much to look at, that he would fight sleep until it finally smacked him in the face. </div>
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We affectionately named him the dictator. Because he was. One squawk from John would send the three of us running for something, anything, to stop the meltdown that was forthcoming. Because once John started, he wouldnt stop. Ever. It was like he was punishing us for not responding fast enough. </div>
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A colic-ky baby is something that is very hard to understand unless youve been there. And, not to take away from anyones experience, but true colic is rarely solved with reflux meds, or with formula supplementing, ect. True colic is the kind where there is NOTHING you can do to make it better. There is NOTHING that the kid needs that you can give to him. You can rock, and shush, and gas drop, and colic calm until your eyeballs pop out, but it wont do a spot of good.<br />
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This was John.<br />
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<b><i>You could SEE how tired he was most of the time. He was like a frat boy on a 4 month bender at this point. </i></b></div>
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Everyone assured me he would grow out of it. And while some days I didnt know how we were going to get through it, most of the time I knew that, no matter how hard it was at the time, someday this would be something we would laugh at. And I have to say, eventually things got "better".</div>
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Once he started to get more mobile, he was a lot happier. Mind you, this was five months. John wanted to GO, and he wanted to go NOW.</div>
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But even though things changed, they didnt change like I thought they would. The colic spells lessened, but I had never seen a baby attack life with such vigor as John. He was loud, he was high speed, he still nursed constantly, he was on the go constantly, he laughed loudest, he cried loudest. He knew what he wanted, all the time, even when he was just a teeny tiny. </div>
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<b><i>Yes, you. </i></b></div>
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About the time that I just imagined I was failing as a parent, a friend who also had a tiny dictator (we can spot our own) introduced me to Dr. Sears's section on the "high needs baby". </div>
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Thank you! Finally, someone who totally understands what John is about. Words like "intense", "draining", "demanding", all the things that let me know that someone REALLY understood what life was like with a John. </div>
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Dr. Sears was the first to convince me that there was nothing wrong with John. And there was nothing wrong with me. That its not because I fail to set a schedule, or that there is some inherent flaw in our genetics.</div>
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<b><i>Its just the way he is. </i></b></div>
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Seems like a cop out, doesnt it? I dont mean that we arent responsible for a lot of things. Anyone can tell you that I devote my life to this kid. We dont do a lot without him, I am very proactive about learning, playgroups, whatever we can do to explore and grow our minds. But while I am responsible for teaching him morals, right from wrong, responsibility, I didnt make him WHO he is, to the core.</div>
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And, although it sounds awful, its not always the worst thing ever. As John has grown, we have marveled in his personality. </div>
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For as many times as he is headstrong, difficult, impossible, determined, or tantruming (which, is often) he has just as many times where he is hilarious, curious, animated, and entertaining. </div>
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Ive come to realize that most people will never understand why I am still so quick to head off any incidents. Why I will leave to get him from daycare (that I have finally put him in for a few hours a week! Im socializing him) because sometimes I just know when John is having a John day - and honestly, during those days its not fair to him or to anyone else to ask him to be out of his element. </div>
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A lot of people say that they have no idea what Im talking about when I say how "bad" he is. I take that as a compliment, because that means that Im doing my job well. I think it means that Im a good mom, and that I know when John has had enough, or is about to break down in a serious way, and I know how to head it off.</div>
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A kid like John takes a lot of pre-planning. I must know where the exits are at all times. I must always have something distracting, or the knowledge that were going to be 15 minutes late for everything. </div>
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It means in the future that we have to allot for a lot of sports and physical activity, because he has way more energy than anyone Ive ever met, and we have to direct him to safe and healthy outlets for that energy. It means he's likely going to struggle in school, because it will require a level of concentration that he may not posses. </div>
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But it also means that we have a little entertainer. We have a kiddo who runs and runs and runs, but then he crashes and is the sweetest cuddler youve ever met. We have a kid who loves to be kissed, hugged, loved on, ect. </div>
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We have a kid who feels so safe with us that he has no fear. That might be a bad thing, but it shows that he doesnt doubt that mommy and daddy are right there to pick him up - and at this age, thats how it should be. I dont want him to be self reliant yet. I want him to need me, even with another baby on the way, because he is a baby, and I am his mommy. And mommy isnt a job that lasts forever - you morph into "mom" way before you know it, and theres no going back.</div>
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Ive also heard stories of another high needs baby. He cried for seven months straight, he was as hyperactive as they come, he was always INTO something and was in the ER more times than anyone could count. He was exhausting and demanding and animated ... he was just like John, so the story goes. Then he grew up, and he became a man who used his un-ending determination to marry a girl, and to love her so much that they made a baby that he was the best father in the world to. That little dictator grew up into one of the best men Ive ever had the pleasure of knowing.</div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhCxzprGyPPM6hIpCMk-eKufpPo01EvC37v6WhrK6EyEEC_ByvORHDFlgg2eqx3f3zf_nvCL464NBsAU2Lri1RDSfuwcIVoELKXkgnh_tBVkSujOuE9hyoy9UoQ7YaWA25CsiZhnu-7glc/s1600/907018_10151394982482734_15298511_n.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhCxzprGyPPM6hIpCMk-eKufpPo01EvC37v6WhrK6EyEEC_ByvORHDFlgg2eqx3f3zf_nvCL464NBsAU2Lri1RDSfuwcIVoELKXkgnh_tBVkSujOuE9hyoy9UoQ7YaWA25CsiZhnu-7glc/s320/907018_10151394982482734_15298511_n.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>
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<b><i>They say the apple doesnt fall far from the tree, after all.</i></b></div>
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So, I continue to attempt to be the perfect mother to this kid. Some days I cannot imagine making it until bedtime, especially when weve had 4 battles at 743 am and there is no daddy, or grandma, or auntie around for backup. Some days I fall into bed and think, I cannot possibly do that again.</div>
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<span style="color: #444444;"><b><i style="background-color: #ffe599;">But then I think of one of my favorite quotes. </i></b></span></div>
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<em style="font-family: 'Droid Serif', Georgia, serif; font-size: 14px; line-height: 22px; margin: 0px; padding: 0px; text-align: -webkit-auto;"><em style="font-family: 'Droid Serif', Georgia, serif; font-size: 14px; line-height: 22px; margin: 0px; padding: 0px; text-align: -webkit-auto;"><b><span style="background-color: #ffe599; color: #444444;">Motherhood is about raising and celebrating the child you have, not the child you thought you would have. It’s about understanding that he is exactly the person he is supposed to be. And that, if you’re lucky, he just might be the teacher who turns you into the person you are supposed to be.” – Joan Ryan</span></b></em></em><br />
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<span style="font-family: Droid Serif, Georgia, serif;"><span style="font-size: 14px; line-height: 22px;">And I know that God made John exactly who he is. One day, his determination, his persistence, his overwhelming zest for life will serve him in exactly the purpose it should. I know enough to know that he is just who he is because he was created for a purpose. And while I may have carried and birthed him, he belongs to a higher purpose ... and Im not even trying to argue with that. </span></span></div>
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<b><i>Although, I do plan on using these blogs to work my way into the REALLY nice nursing home. </i></b></div>
Annehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08350324287027740120noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3701025960216852714.post-33430465101096218372013-06-07T14:48:00.000-07:002013-06-07T14:48:00.777-07:00Countdown to baby: 11 weeks and Kitchen / Dining Room This week was my kitchen / dining room experiment, and it was a CHALLENGE!<br />
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Ive realized a few things:<br />
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First, I cant have a Pinterest house on an Army post. We live in generic, white walled, cookie cutter housing. No painting, warm colors, ability to really change anything that would take a lot of work to un-do. While Im not complaining, it is a challenge to make a "sanctuary" within the sterile, cheaply made walls we reside in.<br />
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Second, the kitchen is never going to be clean.<br />
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Ever.<br />
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Now, I dont mean that its going to be dirty with a bunch of yuck. But, its never going to be CLEAN. I tried to follow the Fly Lady emails, but she always wants me to shine my sink. And I cant, because there are always dishes in it. They are rinsed off dishes, but they are waiting their turn in the dishwasher. We do a load of dishes a day, sometimes two.<br />
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However, I dont think thats a bad thing. The kitchen is a constant hive of activity in our house. We eat 90% of our meals at home, so there is always something cooking, or simmering, or in various stages of prep. The kitchen will never be showroom clean, because we are always making a meal, or a snack, or cleaning up from one. We sit down for family dinner every night, at 6 pm sharp. I think its important, and its something I hope to be able to do for my children as they grow.<br />
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With that said, my main concern when getting this area in order was FUNCTION. I need to be able to have everything in a certain place, I need it to be a quick clean up, and I need to not freak out when John is in my kitchen.<br />
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Here are my results:<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhA0JvzzpjU8zQwjlBFSQa0OPLEefveMCDyqqCZVEWtnL8coMPgP7MJLTllBw05MLgHAZ56eJAVApHv-5xmZMp3JrHb-Su_ZnM5Fy8cZQgYMp_LA9P7fC4F6tAZuPvmXjPk7DfDbxJczA0/s1600/IMG_6941.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhA0JvzzpjU8zQwjlBFSQa0OPLEefveMCDyqqCZVEWtnL8coMPgP7MJLTllBw05MLgHAZ56eJAVApHv-5xmZMp3JrHb-Su_ZnM5Fy8cZQgYMp_LA9P7fC4F6tAZuPvmXjPk7DfDbxJczA0/s320/IMG_6941.JPG" width="320" /></a></div>
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One of my first orders of business was the counter. I got this bucket as a catch all - nothing else goes ON the counter. It goes IN the bucket. And I clean out the bucket once a week. See what I did there? It means that the bills / wallets / papers / ect have a place. And thats what I was missing before - a place. </div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhCr_SfPCIp1e5eeJ10jg7C5d0lVPoD_X_WUeBOuXENlCcgDMrO1w2ywEVqCqFLZ75Mfu3Pgh-7o7Oh88Il_i2EeCWR04u3BC6zJ3v5mdU3KV8LJUuTuaCaEHxu7jVx5atFKwq6AQFBVBQ/s1600/IMG_6942.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhCr_SfPCIp1e5eeJ10jg7C5d0lVPoD_X_WUeBOuXENlCcgDMrO1w2ywEVqCqFLZ75Mfu3Pgh-7o7Oh88Il_i2EeCWR04u3BC6zJ3v5mdU3KV8LJUuTuaCaEHxu7jVx5atFKwq6AQFBVBQ/s320/IMG_6942.JPG" width="320" /></a></div>
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Next, we HAD to have a tablecloth. Im not really a tablecloth sort of person, but once I had a toddler that eats at the table, I totally get it now. This is a plastic topped one, so I can wipe it off. That is so important, I cannot even say that enough. I CAN WIPE IT OFF. Life is so much easier.</div>
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The dog bowls are still in the dining room. I have yet to find a better place for them ... I guess well keep all the food in one place? </div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi1Kjk8hJ4x8plFNtaz0vXmquNbjNM9g4C48nmF4PrlIbhxkDNwCex3BToTp8rsBOf8Q4eU2yLB8rBrNPPnvaQ5GOFQH6sm_ibiYurlTz1iTonxoaJY4G9aD7aar_EVG54LIE9SwtQcFjg/s1600/IMG_6943.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi1Kjk8hJ4x8plFNtaz0vXmquNbjNM9g4C48nmF4PrlIbhxkDNwCex3BToTp8rsBOf8Q4eU2yLB8rBrNPPnvaQ5GOFQH6sm_ibiYurlTz1iTonxoaJY4G9aD7aar_EVG54LIE9SwtQcFjg/s320/IMG_6943.JPG" width="320" /></a></div>
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Okay, listen. If you dont have a TV in your kitchen area, you are missing the boat. No, we dont watch TV when we eat as a family, but when its time to prepare dinner there is nothing better than closing the door, turning on the shows that YOU NEVER GET TO WATCH BECAUSE NO ONE IS QUIET, and having a little zen. Allen wins because it makes me enjoy cooking. I win because in the morning I let John watch a program with breakfast while I get my coffee and bearings together for the day. All around, best purchase ever.</div>
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Also, the computer is in the dining room. This is a logistics issue really. The desktop MUST be in a public area, turned to where everyone can see. Oh, you let your 14 year old have unrestricted access in their room? Thats awesome for you, but our family doesnt roll like that. Its also password protected, and only Allen and I have that password. Devon can have it when we deem appropriate. This is also a bonus because he doesnt sit in his room for hours on end. In fact, he is very rarely in his room. He spends 90% of his time downstairs. While that is sometimes tiring when youve had a long day, hell be out of the house before we know it and one day well wish we had that time back. </div>
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On to the kitchen. I added some accent towels to give it a little bit of a homey feel. The HUGE difference is the one you cant see. I went through all our cabinets, threw away a bunch of things we didnt need or use. I then reorganized everything by usage. I also put everything out of Johns reach except for two drawers full of plastic cups and lids that he can take out and play with to his hearts content. That has really reduced frustration, because he reaches less for things that I really need and is content with his own items. We also dont have anything under the sink at all and keep all cleaners in the top laundry room cabinets. </div>
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I dont trust child locks to be John proof. </div>
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So there we are, two more rooms down. The biggest misconception I had was that doing this was going to ensure that everything was clean at all times. Now, thats not true. It still gets messy. But the GOOD news is that when it does get messy, its a snap to clean up.<br />
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Allen and I can be hoarders, both of us. We are notorious for saying "we will totally use this later", even when something is outdated or broken. This challenge is forcing me to get over that, and really evaluate what we use, what we dont, and what we need to keep. Im finding chores MUCH easier to stay on top of now because Im not constantly dealing with items that just dont belong. Apparently thats how people actually keep a clean home - who knew?<br />
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I also saw a segment on the Today show that said clutter can actually make you fat.<br />
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This week Im working on the living room, and let me tell you, thats a challenge as well. Im excited to keep the clutter train moving on out of my house!Annehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08350324287027740120noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3701025960216852714.post-29439840447911628832013-06-02T08:53:00.000-07:002013-06-02T08:53:01.141-07:00Why you dont say things you dont say to a pregnant woman. By now I think weve all seen those lists that detail ALL the things you should never (under any circumstance) say to a pregnant woman. I think those lists are the best thing ever, especially considering the amount of those comments I get every single day of my pregnant life. I think everyone gets the point, but now Im going to explain the reasoning behind it.<br />
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I have had a lot of friends read those lists and then apologize. See, they had said those things to me and they really didnt understand why they were such a big deal, or why anyone would find innocent comments so offensive. Thats fair enough, so here I am, speaking on behalf of all the women who have been on the receiving end of a comment that made you cry, and not been able to explain WHY (and had it chalked up to "hormones", amiright?).<br />
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So, lets imagine that youve been horribly sick for a few months. Its not life threatening, but it is debilitating. You have to navigate this sickness, plus all of your normal responsibilities, and you have to pretend that you ARENT sick because no one can know. In the course of a few months, through inactivity and eating whatever you can manage to keep down (carbs, always carbs), you might have put on a few pounds. Hey, you might have put on MORE than a few pounds. But its not your fault, right? Youll lose it when you feel better and besides, youre just trying to get through this awful, all day sickness ....<br />
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Now imagine that all of your friends, and most of your family, and even a lot of strangers, say something EVERY TIME THEY SEE YOU. That something is along the lines of "OMG, youve gotten really fat", "wow, you are SO BIG, is that normal?!", "why have you let yourself go like that? My friend Jane had the same thing that you do and she didnt show it until she had it for at least seven months". Or the kicker, "when I was sick like that I stayed in all my pre-sick jeans the whole time!".<br />
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I think you get the point. I feel like some people believe that commenting on how "huge" someone has gotten is just a form of "look, youre pregnant!". The fact is that a lot of us dont hear anything about pregnancy. We hear "huge", which translates to "fat". So imagine that for the better part of 6 months (or whenever you might start to show), every single day someone says to you "holy shit youre fat". Eventually, no matter how strong your self esteem, that will wear at you.<br />
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As it wears at you, you will begin to look in the mirror more. And in the way of your beautiful blessing, the thing you prayed for, hoped for, went through hell for, will be a big huge block of letters that will say FAT. And instead of being proud of your big huge bump of life, you will be ashamed. You will try to look as small as possible, and some days you wont even want to go out of the house. You will preempt any conversation about your due date with the words "I know, Im really big. I know, its crazy. I know, by xx date I wont be able to walk. I know". It will become your mantra, to try to use as a shield so you dont get any hurtful offhand comments.<br />
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Now imagine that you are over the sickness and feel just fine. But for some reason, you have grown a large patch of discolored skin on your face. You cannot cover it up - its there for the world to see. You didnt ask for it, its just the way your body works and thats what you have to live with. Its not hurting anyone. Its not cancerous or going to hurt you. Youve been in consult with your doctor and he or she assures you that its only temporary and really, you are perfectly healthy.<br />
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But, its the same thing. EVERY WHERE you go, people gawk at you. They stop and ask "are you SURE thats okay?", "is it cancer?", "have you talked to your doctor?". After awhile youd want to scream, because OF COURSE YOU HAVE. And if something was wrong, your doctor would helpfully tell you, wouldn't they?<br />
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This seems to be the case with short girls who get very huge (or anyone really, but I have to sympathize with my fellow short girls). Yes, we get BIG. Guess what? There is no where for the baby to go. We have no torso so we tend to grow OUT. Thats a good thing! That means that there is a baby growing inside of us. But when you hear from person after person "are you SURE its just one?!", "is your doctor okay with you being THAT big?" and always "my sisters cousins friend is as far as you and she doesnt even show!".<br />
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*On a side note, I have heard from my very tiny friend that this is not a phenomenon reserved for women who get very big, and that she heard all sorts of opposite comments from being very small - "are you sure the baby is okay?", "God, gain some weight!", ect. Equally hurtful, no doubt,<br />
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Please believe that the majority of pregnant women are seeing a doctor or midwife. Those medical professionals monitor the pregnancy, and even the weight gain. They will inform the woman if she has anything to be concerned about - weight gain, weight loss, or otherwise. That is their job, and why they get paid. These questions produce the same result as above.<br />
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Pregnancy really is a blessing, there is no doubt about that. Every day with your baby is a gift, and I wouldnt want anyone to ever think differently. It is difficult, however, when you might fall outside what society as a hole thinks of as "normal", which is whatever they or their immediate circle have shown to them.<br />
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Not all of us look like maternity models. Some of us have long torsos and the baby can stretch out, some of us have no torso and we carry the baby 5 feet in front of us. Some of us glow, some of us lose all of our "pretty". Some lose weight, some gain weight, but unless you are one of those rare people who dont care who you offend (and if that is the case, there is a karmic envelope with your name on it somewhere ....), I think its safe to follow the "if you dont have anything nice to say, dont say anything at all" rule, when it comes to pregnant women.<br />
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You dont have to lie to anyone - if your pregnant friend looks crazy and terrible, you dont HAVE to tell her shes beautiful (though, it wouldnt hurt). But asking her something snarky or hurtful certainly doesnt seem to have any benefit either. Trust me, she can see who she is in the mirror. She knows when her maternity jeans are too small (yeah, who knew THAT could happen), when she cant see her feet anymore. She knows that she doesnt look like her best friend, or her neighbor. She knows that she isnt exactly going to be asked to pose for a perfect maternity ad. She knows it, and she lives with it. Let that be enough.<br />
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Pregnancy seems to be one of the times where people believe its okay to say whatever they want. They seem to believe that pregnant women have a forcefield where comments wont crush their self esteem. Thats so opposite of true - in fact, during a time when your body is undoing all the work that youve always put into it, when you cant find any clothes that fit you, when you dont look the same as the people around you ... pregnancy can be even harder on your self image. If you toss in there a history of poor body image and low self esteem (and trust me, you dont know who has or is suffering from that), it can be a very dangerous thing to keep tossing out offhanded comments to someone. It can hurt way more than youd imagine.<br />
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Im probably a little over sensitive on the issue, given that I am a freak of nature (yes, I admit it). At 5 foot nothing I grow STRAIGHT OUT, and my last baby was over 9 pounds. I gained a lot of weight, and I had a lot of horrible things said to me. This pregnancy Ive been lucky to be surrounded by a group of supportive, uplifting, positive women who are so generous with compliments and quick to tell me that I look beautiful because Im creating life. I cannot express how much those words are like medicine when you need it the most. Im challenging everyone to be THAT friend. The one who goes out of her way to tell her friend how beautiful she is, how gorgeous her baby will be, and how NORMAL she looks (even if she doesnt, consider it your karmic payment for the week).Annehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08350324287027740120noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3701025960216852714.post-2235024589546016932013-05-28T23:46:00.001-07:002013-05-28T23:46:39.457-07:00You are the best thing, thats ever been mine. Warning, this will be a picture post. Because I can. Isnt the point of blogs so that you can talk as much as you want, even if people dont give a damn about what you say?<br />
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On the eve of our sixth anniversary, I feel a bit reflective tonight. Six years ago, as I sat in a rented bedroom in Arizona, there is no way I could have imagined what Id be doing today.<br />
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Six years isnt *that* big of a deal, in the long run. Anyone can be married for six years really (unless you are Kim K, but lets not set the bar too low). Heck , in six years you barely have time to figure out all the things youd like to put down in your divorce degree.<br />
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BUT, for me, six years seems like a long time. Its a long time for two kids who dove in head first. Its a long time for a girl who had no idea how to be a wife - or, anything like it really (ha, just ask most of my ex's). Its a long time for two people who have never set down roots in the time theyve been together, who have only been on a handful of real dates, and who have been apart almost as much as theyve been together.<br />
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I, admittedly, had a lot to learn about love. I didnt grow up with any real male figure in my life as I navigated my formative years. I didnt know much about how marriage or families worked. Most of what I knew came from tv - that marriage should be fairy tale, it should complete you, it should be softly lit and always go right.<br />
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Over the years, I had to learn what love really looks like. Real life love - the kind that is busy, and imperfect, and not at all what you might expect. I had to learn that romance comes in forms that no one tells you about. I had to learn that romantic movies are like porn for women - they might be nice to look at, but it doesnt happen in real life.<br />
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<b><i>Sometimes romance is a guy who will find a way to crash your birthday party, just for a chance to meet you (he may or may not be intoxicated - Im not sure that was part of the plan, but it worked in the end). </i></b></div>
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<b><i>Love might be the guy who, when faced with the breakup speech, says "thats nice, lets go get married". Now, in some circles that would also be referenced as "creepy", but in this case he was good looking and wasnt on probation, so it was cute. </i></b></div>
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<b><i>Romantic could be the girl who was so excited to see the boy, that she rode 20 hours on a Grayhound bus, each way, just to see him for 13 hours.</i></b></div>
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<b><i>Love could be when the girl drives for 2 days to see the boy, to have a courthouse wedding ....</i></b></div>
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<b><i>... with two strangers as witnesses (they wore cutoff jeans no less) ...</i></b></div>
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<b><i>... and she hurried him back to the barracks and spent her wedding night alone. </i></b></div>
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<b><i>Love is when you become a family, with no hesitation or footnotes. When you both accept that there are challenges ahead and it wont be easy - but whats his is yours, and yours is his. </i></b></div>
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<b><i>Romance is a 4 day road trip, in a VW bug, 6 months after you get married, to create yet ANOTHER new life, in the one place you really didnt want to go to. Romance is being able to laugh when your AC gives out in the middle of death valley, and you see someone throw a TV over a fence as you drive by ... lost ... again. </i></b></div>
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<b><i>Love is shacking up in a tiny apartment thats all you can afford, and all you can find, because you are in the middle of a huge new place with no idea how to navigate it, or the Army. Love is deciding you absolutely need a dog, and love is a girl standing in front of a cage at the Humane Society and MAYBE strong arming a little boy out of the way, for the perfect puppy. Love is Sammy Lou, who has been our faithful, hungry, loving companion since that day. </i></b></div>
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<b><i>Romance is a mixed family, and flying (through winter storms and heart attack landings) cross country ALL THE TIME to keep us together, and where we needed to be.</i></b></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEieBedgFafECuRBbdN2LrcQqlONVYuX4c_TS_ANsagi33iyLEe6vJE4ZabiJpTxtJ0iv2teFeI8YyD3a7ChKj2s5YHHqUx7NNZfX54ildaY-4_CXnQ9Ml10peATc00SYUUO1Moha4i4u9o/s1600/26479_327948882733_252450_n.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEieBedgFafECuRBbdN2LrcQqlONVYuX4c_TS_ANsagi33iyLEe6vJE4ZabiJpTxtJ0iv2teFeI8YyD3a7ChKj2s5YHHqUx7NNZfX54ildaY-4_CXnQ9Ml10peATc00SYUUO1Moha4i4u9o/s320/26479_327948882733_252450_n.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>
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<b><i>Love is when your wife just has to have this little, feral, side of the road puppy. Love is when you dont say no to that, you name him Duke, and he's the worst dog that you cant help but love.</i></b></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiH_SEeZCV02zLxEkGf7SKxg5hk4pR0Kfe3BkeyL-Moa1M9gQJk1xPuN7m6haTmaWLppir2gtGoyWR7expPgEW6nbzrm3QevPekDH3BaZ3y2usqnWDFEVkEXjCy6CybXnXI1pz-xqHePeE/s1600/24209_331664642733_8006200_n.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="255" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiH_SEeZCV02zLxEkGf7SKxg5hk4pR0Kfe3BkeyL-Moa1M9gQJk1xPuN7m6haTmaWLppir2gtGoyWR7expPgEW6nbzrm3QevPekDH3BaZ3y2usqnWDFEVkEXjCy6CybXnXI1pz-xqHePeE/s320/24209_331664642733_8006200_n.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>
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<b><i>Romance is fighting your apartment complex in such a way that they actually let you out of your lease with no penalties, so that you can move your family on post in a much better neighborhood and bigger house.</i></b></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhz47i99CTL9SOF1QNa_5qk8uG5XxNvB75mb2kobG9X5MZRqKj7X-ZG9dEhodmLhr8LKPHiCmoKzd1X_xK8IMrCn-YMRA7DaJQNb74OKG9kKHDGM32NMynAUjUy7GjD3rHZpOR3b1gr0Q8/s1600/24209_331673737733_746094_n.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhz47i99CTL9SOF1QNa_5qk8uG5XxNvB75mb2kobG9X5MZRqKj7X-ZG9dEhodmLhr8LKPHiCmoKzd1X_xK8IMrCn-YMRA7DaJQNb74OKG9kKHDGM32NMynAUjUy7GjD3rHZpOR3b1gr0Q8/s320/24209_331673737733_746094_n.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>
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<b><i>Love was this Christmas / birthday where we almost lost our poor sick Sammy, and where he drove for hours to find what we needed to save her. </i></b></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiqE2nqDT30slcO2MRF7U-em2LU3x-ZFD8ahKjgqRriRm-TsRs1_zw0GmiQWtRyWwoY3Ih2b4mSRVxekoLKBDl6UD4tSncd3FDVgxlhrNX9Ah1COC8XF272F3IahCgR47kvO9ds4ZnKR1k/s1600/24209_331676627733_491587_n.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiqE2nqDT30slcO2MRF7U-em2LU3x-ZFD8ahKjgqRriRm-TsRs1_zw0GmiQWtRyWwoY3Ih2b4mSRVxekoLKBDl6UD4tSncd3FDVgxlhrNX9Ah1COC8XF272F3IahCgR47kvO9ds4ZnKR1k/s320/24209_331676627733_491587_n.jpg" width="240" /></a></div>
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<b><i>Love meant a lot (a lot!) of goodbyes. </i></b></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhOPW-xW4ZMhiZS9b2bnsl9zEfqP1RgXpr69THuBWu3L7M4dIDNcoF-oOmqEcRYOsG9DKxIgSIij1VHh_tGK7FURgpdSg7nmvEWGGHFCtUXGTZ9LUdJvk5OntPAwSgZK6ygLID-M-ah0PQ/s1600/23428_328929672733_4513828_n.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="201" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhOPW-xW4ZMhiZS9b2bnsl9zEfqP1RgXpr69THuBWu3L7M4dIDNcoF-oOmqEcRYOsG9DKxIgSIij1VHh_tGK7FURgpdSg7nmvEWGGHFCtUXGTZ9LUdJvk5OntPAwSgZK6ygLID-M-ah0PQ/s320/23428_328929672733_4513828_n.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh4MJ87_nx51Ba-jsH8nEdeCfyKiFQc4L0dlg13ehHxEaHTIa3l0nBmfqdsp_fm5l3UWuPQSybEPsJF5avQrXOzuy9Sp3-ZtEpwu_RPYY3FZbxXYmHuj54qIJI3O2FfH505lNkTDLt2bKo/s1600/23428_328951072733_1587867_n.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh4MJ87_nx51Ba-jsH8nEdeCfyKiFQc4L0dlg13ehHxEaHTIa3l0nBmfqdsp_fm5l3UWuPQSybEPsJF5avQrXOzuy9Sp3-ZtEpwu_RPYY3FZbxXYmHuj54qIJI3O2FfH505lNkTDLt2bKo/s320/23428_328951072733_1587867_n.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhJ9Ganoh1xKDWA8Dptm0-nyI8fApdafktpZT4eBlSY2DlUXIxc358cBnU2kjHRnDmVYRrHCSbpZB1JqauzBRB6bvL-Fxfh0UAnnxhiGXN8h8JA-ipE2jBoK8Wqi_JwzpqugLRuVWPyvrM/s1600/3279_70150482733_1821206_n.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhJ9Ganoh1xKDWA8Dptm0-nyI8fApdafktpZT4eBlSY2DlUXIxc358cBnU2kjHRnDmVYRrHCSbpZB1JqauzBRB6bvL-Fxfh0UAnnxhiGXN8h8JA-ipE2jBoK8Wqi_JwzpqugLRuVWPyvrM/s320/3279_70150482733_1821206_n.jpg" width="213" /></a></div>
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<b><i>And it meant that in ten months, this was the one time she saw his face:</i></b></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjLb8wgLKZkfZ8g8_TCGCFVHJuRA5qIE4GLXbs2v5C85nKjUW1oV_88BsXU7jdKFeWhyJwYOlNluyciP2GFkLIuGNz4VmFuZN0EeGmt25YntJa_SAlBVvO1wbjKaadb5VKaP7SlBRP1K1s/s1600/17264_234427667733_7129892_n.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjLb8wgLKZkfZ8g8_TCGCFVHJuRA5qIE4GLXbs2v5C85nKjUW1oV_88BsXU7jdKFeWhyJwYOlNluyciP2GFkLIuGNz4VmFuZN0EeGmt25YntJa_SAlBVvO1wbjKaadb5VKaP7SlBRP1K1s/s1600/17264_234427667733_7129892_n.jpg" /></a></div>
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<b><i>But that ended with this: </i></b></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhpiCJszkGcdw9q7pJWmReK9d3HE51HE0aoo8bv4OBy6lGHguE_N2xOI9fsjl8j-V9ofT1tjzRvIRZWeR8OXVaQ3_UM0sIuLrR8Y5DaiZEWHAWdWspuize1INZqT1rGHwce8WrnF0ciW7k/s1600/29970_396890567733_2064687_n.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhpiCJszkGcdw9q7pJWmReK9d3HE51HE0aoo8bv4OBy6lGHguE_N2xOI9fsjl8j-V9ofT1tjzRvIRZWeR8OXVaQ3_UM0sIuLrR8Y5DaiZEWHAWdWspuize1INZqT1rGHwce8WrnF0ciW7k/s320/29970_396890567733_2064687_n.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>
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<b><i>and it REALLY ended with this.</i></b></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjb9H0O80SoB732mmNpRIrvF5OAv0UB9ep39JgwpCdGcpuzC91r4fgwadc-q7HD30Quw9IRF3Ze1eUEh8pHlS3dcNZc2cv1fbIbZ_hkTciBwcxpRW04z7G_YLKRF-MbRSh8GWcT4HBS8_k/s1600/34984_408006057733_1951153_n.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjb9H0O80SoB732mmNpRIrvF5OAv0UB9ep39JgwpCdGcpuzC91r4fgwadc-q7HD30Quw9IRF3Ze1eUEh8pHlS3dcNZc2cv1fbIbZ_hkTciBwcxpRW04z7G_YLKRF-MbRSh8GWcT4HBS8_k/s320/34984_408006057733_1951153_n.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>
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<b><i>Love is getting the post deployment surprise that you were told you never would ...</i></b></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjh8TfV7Y3HjNdAZ156_fg_U-mXzEHkgLJE3Dox2gvNwl7_Rv9kpzNWJUUy6UWZ8ESFn4vjPCYe-WBoDJR15qXJ2YEgmGdphcIPKHovP06wzAVZA08lctzNSVlKQfcPVS3LHlPkLrFptwM/s1600/183434_10150100784412734_1814669_n.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjh8TfV7Y3HjNdAZ156_fg_U-mXzEHkgLJE3Dox2gvNwl7_Rv9kpzNWJUUy6UWZ8ESFn4vjPCYe-WBoDJR15qXJ2YEgmGdphcIPKHovP06wzAVZA08lctzNSVlKQfcPVS3LHlPkLrFptwM/s320/183434_10150100784412734_1814669_n.jpg" width="240" /></a></div>
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<b><i>Romance is getting orders all the way across the country, buying a house before you see it in person, and moving 3000+ miles away while 20 weeks pregnant.</i></b></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjxW_Ge8hvJbcTzc-FCir86ebSXXDYq5BPo4tN8u0q5k5HtNkVDrPUheCmBvtV4VnY8GDNTpnKTZv7R5xXJ_rWDJ7d47hNj0BWH1E6CerOnFov1UetP9R62-tBWvIXny1OueS_xyDCiiAo/s1600/206260_10150158892987734_2542666_n.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjxW_Ge8hvJbcTzc-FCir86ebSXXDYq5BPo4tN8u0q5k5HtNkVDrPUheCmBvtV4VnY8GDNTpnKTZv7R5xXJ_rWDJ7d47hNj0BWH1E6CerOnFov1UetP9R62-tBWvIXny1OueS_xyDCiiAo/s320/206260_10150158892987734_2542666_n.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>
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<b><i>Romance is assuring your pregnant wife that she gets more beautiful every day (even if shes just getting fatter). </i></b></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjU4FKcIkY9H6shH_ROraf4TETHMl7-lXrg1rh5jsMkiiC99ihh9ivssP_q4xh8g3s65PpV7HjJjuOTbdtB0eQdk4DrsiClpA0Nfb0vx-IlROY82W-AXib_d3UXIalkxY8PzAiiJkJb0jg/s1600/248252_10150199937697734_3636795_n.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjU4FKcIkY9H6shH_ROraf4TETHMl7-lXrg1rh5jsMkiiC99ihh9ivssP_q4xh8g3s65PpV7HjJjuOTbdtB0eQdk4DrsiClpA0Nfb0vx-IlROY82W-AXib_d3UXIalkxY8PzAiiJkJb0jg/s320/248252_10150199937697734_3636795_n.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>
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<b><i>Romance is accepting all of your wife's crazy ideas about freestanding birth centers and no medication. Romance is holding her hand through 20 hours of labor, and being the one to pull your sweet baby boy into the world. Romance is being the first one to see his face, and him take his first breath. Romance is knowing you really did bring him into this world.</i></b></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjYrYGPTms3wRxyJMSyHHntUD_BKa5-z5ZRgV4hhjWYWU1x70VicpuP5ojVAU-vgyUrrCt0-BXQpbhVFvLOCi4wVzd7ZQ98pt1KCucjGwgkBiMwTNb5DwmjUMGWDt8Pb22s64mR5H5NdGM/s1600/317723_10150302927952734_54868284_n.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="214" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjYrYGPTms3wRxyJMSyHHntUD_BKa5-z5ZRgV4hhjWYWU1x70VicpuP5ojVAU-vgyUrrCt0-BXQpbhVFvLOCi4wVzd7ZQ98pt1KCucjGwgkBiMwTNb5DwmjUMGWDt8Pb22s64mR5H5NdGM/s320/317723_10150302927952734_54868284_n.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>
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<b><i>Love is learning how to navigate a newborn and a teenager, both who needed more than we ever could have imagined. Love is meeting it head on, even on the days when it got tough, because we knew that the kids needed us to be stronger than their challenges. They needed us to be the rock they could build off of. </i></b></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj96bc7bsAloe7tpSfI7dA89KMrd0iRu7m9eSbPGSnwOmfRm0gI2BVFkE554e90aFc-KUUht1cS7bHSsfjtLDmzmRX56NDqetrImwFQMzUXiK_0MHMZNWQ-pBwlMurAjw3EIjf0JWj0nX0/s1600/428306_10150608089272734_448740231_n.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="210" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj96bc7bsAloe7tpSfI7dA89KMrd0iRu7m9eSbPGSnwOmfRm0gI2BVFkE554e90aFc-KUUht1cS7bHSsfjtLDmzmRX56NDqetrImwFQMzUXiK_0MHMZNWQ-pBwlMurAjw3EIjf0JWj0nX0/s320/428306_10150608089272734_448740231_n.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>
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<b><i>Love is saying "see you soon", again ...</i></b></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg4rNozyxvlJ_9Dyc65qTpWhMSJE6e-sYAfVdt-dQd3Hp-TJuT0I-5490pd2WAOXYwdzzx62C0-KIW_qd4G2pKy1ynqLkiZ9Ui9u2ryKjfIK805a3fRw9KORQdeGIWRnms-7LdBh1UH8F8/s1600/527484_10150624284772734_1178088787_n.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg4rNozyxvlJ_9Dyc65qTpWhMSJE6e-sYAfVdt-dQd3Hp-TJuT0I-5490pd2WAOXYwdzzx62C0-KIW_qd4G2pKy1ynqLkiZ9Ui9u2ryKjfIK805a3fRw9KORQdeGIWRnms-7LdBh1UH8F8/s1600/527484_10150624284772734_1178088787_n.jpg" /></a></div>
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<b><i>This time with just a little bit more to miss. </i></b></div>
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<b><i>Romance is appreciating to the fullest when an Army decision actually goes in our favor (had to happen once!).</i></b></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEieqpxfsgtUqog3aY1_Xu07oPS7ALTtkac8hsz7SvEV6BxOluGwjrTVmB-mrH_1xQAcVLNtJ8atu3h6geilQJrFa614tI6u-xUQE1OeZWHEVO0l8Gjc8vgxKDhV4Z3GYhdFPSMB6zX2hyphenhyphen4/s1600/531180_10150714456592734_2100702022_n.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEieqpxfsgtUqog3aY1_Xu07oPS7ALTtkac8hsz7SvEV6BxOluGwjrTVmB-mrH_1xQAcVLNtJ8atu3h6geilQJrFa614tI6u-xUQE1OeZWHEVO0l8Gjc8vgxKDhV4Z3GYhdFPSMB6zX2hyphenhyphen4/s320/531180_10150714456592734_2100702022_n.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>
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<b><i>And romance is also deciding that if hes going to be home, then its worth driving back to Arizona to spend the summer with him. Even if it wipes your savings, even if its with a 9 month old ... nothing is worth missing out on months of time together. </i></b></div>
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<b><i>Love is the joy on your faces the day you find out that your family is growing again!</i></b></div>
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<b><i>And romance is the man who will hold your hand when you find out that your family wont be growing right now after all.</i></b></div>
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<b><i>Love is the guy who will come home the day after the hospital, head in his hands, and break the news that you are moving back across the country, to the middle of the desert, in a matter of months.</i></b></div>
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<b><i>Romance is when you get news that you are pregnant again. He will tell you to rest. He will clean and prep an entire house for renting. He will hold your hand as you get that first ultrasound. He will understand that you have to cry for a few minutes before the tech can even begin because you are shaking and terrified. </i></b></div>
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<b><i>He will take you to Disney (pregnant and horribly sick) to help make up for it.</i></b></div>
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<b><i>Love is when he drives 2 hours to find out what your rainbow baby is. Love is when he is so excited to have a baby girl, because its a baby her. Love is a man who loves being a father so much that he cant wait to do it again, and again and again. </i></b></div>
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In the past six years, Ive definitely learned a few things about love and romance. They are the things that are between the lines - the worry on his face when your baby is sick. The years you can look back on and say - he never left me. The way you can get mad at him because you are secure that, no matter how ridiculous you can be, hes still going to wake up tomorrow and want to be beside you.</div>
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Love is fighting, learning, growing. I see so many people now a days trade in for a "better" model. They want the grass that they are sure is greener, and maybe that works for them. Hey, Ive had to kiss a few frogs too, you know? But I am so hopeful that one day I can look back and I can see the same guy beside me that is now. That I can make 500 pages of these entries that detail all the things that you can see, and that show all the millions of things that you cant. </div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj1M0Sf-1jV0pBFH_TY0r2MvUo2EmyLIz-K0-ct2hScm6EwqLWu07c-iZTgUh3QipMxlT6c8WexBMW3kidR0hr7YTBOKHHzXmCwZM9ZI_fyyvQPhfG6-VvDbCDxsiFT9l9Add9yt0vLdGQ/s1600/417971_10151460568507734_2070861223_n.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="213" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj1M0Sf-1jV0pBFH_TY0r2MvUo2EmyLIz-K0-ct2hScm6EwqLWu07c-iZTgUh3QipMxlT6c8WexBMW3kidR0hr7YTBOKHHzXmCwZM9ZI_fyyvQPhfG6-VvDbCDxsiFT9l9Add9yt0vLdGQ/s320/417971_10151460568507734_2070861223_n.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>
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So here we are. Six years, 4 duty stations, 3 (almost) kids, 2 dogs ... 1 life. Its been a hell of a ride and I cant wait to see whats next. </div>
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Annehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08350324287027740120noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3701025960216852714.post-38756043443476665412013-05-27T12:23:00.000-07:002013-05-27T12:23:03.381-07:00Countdown to Baby - Week 12 (ish). Pantry / Laundry Room I have to admit, this is me:<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgTsy3MgqfBysdqHXxNfUm3RI0E1XShVgYW9WlAMUcdPK-fAqxljYOQ9NtwAhMYjQUS9npSxdrjmO0vGcdnOOZ6M2E9uf90XPLrFh7BTBzdLG8JGyUye2sFmm1-EbdSmPE3FHwaCHhF69c/s1600/The-moment-where-you-have-so-much-crap-to-do.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="224" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgTsy3MgqfBysdqHXxNfUm3RI0E1XShVgYW9WlAMUcdPK-fAqxljYOQ9NtwAhMYjQUS9npSxdrjmO0vGcdnOOZ6M2E9uf90XPLrFh7BTBzdLG8JGyUye2sFmm1-EbdSmPE3FHwaCHhF69c/s320/The-moment-where-you-have-so-much-crap-to-do.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>
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Not only have I never been a clean freak (anyone who has ever been to my house knows that, while I dont qualify for Hoarders status, I definitely dont get any satisfaction out of mopping or dusting), but I also am not an organized person.<br />
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Before you judge me as a total slob, its honestly just not on my priority list. We move so much that half of our things stay in boxes, and we are a VERY busy family. There are sports played, playdates scheduled, we take trips and watch movies. Its not that I don't clean, but I dont put a huge emphasis on the cleaning - so oftentimes if you show up unannounced, I will make an excuse not to let you in. We dont live in CPS worthy filth, but the odds are there are toys everywhere and the laundry isnt done.<br />
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We laugh a lot, if thats any consolation.<br />
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There are times when I think that my laid back attitude makes motherhood easier on me. If a kid spills a drink, or colors on a wall, or leaves his room a mess for a few days in a row, meh, I dont care. In fact, my oldest knows that he can get out of cleaning by asking to go do something - play basketball, see a friend, work on a project. I truly value experiences and they trump bleaching the floor every time.<br />
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HOWEVER, sometimes that attitude makes it harder on me - usually about the time, once a week, when I realize that I have a shit load of work ahead of me so that we can all relax in a clean home. I admit that this move we sort of threw our things in, made it just livable enough, and then said forget it. That tends to happen when you move once a year :/<br />
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Anyhow, as I am realizing that Gabrielle will be here in 12ish weeks (I say ish because Lord knows that no child of mine is ever going to be on time), maybe I should make life a little easier on myself. After all, I will have one kid who will be in his first month of high school, an hour away ( thank God for the bus), I will have one almost two year old who will not understand if his routine of playdates and fun things is interrupted, and I will have one newborn, who will work on her own schedule. To round that out, I will have a husband who will jump off paternity leave and directly into rotation, which means he will either be gone 16+ hours a day or be gone for 2+ weeks completely.<br />
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So yeah. Maybe I shouldnt leave our life in total chaos while were adjusting to all of that.<br />
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However, if you give me a big huge list and tell me to get it done, I will adamantly refuse to do any of it. I get tired just looking at long lists, then I struggle to do 5 things at once, and then I give up totally and cry on Facebook.<br />
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Therefore, I created my "countdown to baby" checklist. One room a week, to be totally organized, donated, cleaned, and baby proofed. Everything should have a place, and be functional and I shouldnt have to worry about John killing himself in it (i.e., outlet covers, shelf placement, ect). Two weeks for the garage, because Im a realist, and a week to prepare freezer meals and shop for extras. The heavy stuff concludes the first week of August, in which I will focus on last minute baby prep.<br />
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I am beyond hopeful that this will hold me accountable, while not totally overwhelming me into inaction.<br />
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This week, I had the pantry / laundry room on my list. I was going to take before and after pictures, until I realized that I was actually embarrassed to do so. Our walk in pantry became a catch all for boxes, and we tended to throw food in there and close the door. The laundry room wasnt much better. Although the excess shelving and storage is my favorite part of this house, the downside is that sometimes you decide "out of sight, out of mind" and never deal with it again.<br />
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So I jumped on Pinterest (of course) and got a few ideas of how to make things more "user friendly". Were limited because we live in post housing, but there were some really helpful tips. The only money I spent was $5 at a yard sale on storage bins, $2 on labels, and $2 for new dry erase markers.<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjnW1sq0blUavqmYGKdAsWDvq_WAHmu2b6JUBPPDG__lhvYipwHfLsfdTdAL-uYxOYlL9nxngk3zBekS0whmYUQziWyRhEztqI1MQaqWNI1WDQLnLkJ2VSeVPeo4GfUHxkwSNKqk9h4Vhg/s1600/photo-7.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjnW1sq0blUavqmYGKdAsWDvq_WAHmu2b6JUBPPDG__lhvYipwHfLsfdTdAL-uYxOYlL9nxngk3zBekS0whmYUQziWyRhEztqI1MQaqWNI1WDQLnLkJ2VSeVPeo4GfUHxkwSNKqk9h4Vhg/s320/photo-7.JPG" width="240" /></a></div>
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Here we are, all sorted into places that make sense. I have a place for breakfast items, lunch items, and dessert items. I have juice boxes and crackers all in one bin, and snacks sorted by category. This helps because when my oldest asks what he can have, I can direct him to where he can grab. Also there are a few things we like to keep on hand all the time, so out of their boxes I can see what needs restocking. </div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi9qRtbY51UkCamMNi9gNQFeHajv7MFzWA7m9Bj9CmnnXkeNYD-C_XfZgdS7NitWeeom55g-D1kalldhe_ND624190P_fxOS7_9eUL7m-OOLBFkljUtzgWam6laihVzmrFAHTgK5mGJbyU/s1600/photo-8.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi9qRtbY51UkCamMNi9gNQFeHajv7MFzWA7m9Bj9CmnnXkeNYD-C_XfZgdS7NitWeeom55g-D1kalldhe_ND624190P_fxOS7_9eUL7m-OOLBFkljUtzgWam6laihVzmrFAHTgK5mGJbyU/s320/photo-8.JPG" width="240" /></a></div>
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Well, this side certainly doesnt look like much, but its all the things I use to make dinners in the dry area. I have the days labeled out and when I make my meal plan, I sort through what I already have. It prevents me from buying things in duplicate, which happens often when I had them all shoved in together.</div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjmtAfYeMvCoqrOTQhlTj7XpBl8IHZdvcxzUO-VX4iYPWGikvY_YwzmuIreukMUYsdnV4_hAxoSWcr_v1p4ur5k2aAxgPAOcQ7L6Uv_b6ceJoRvFmDNyzkLZ7ao0qCljpGEE5PgDKzYjs0/s1600/photo-9.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjmtAfYeMvCoqrOTQhlTj7XpBl8IHZdvcxzUO-VX4iYPWGikvY_YwzmuIreukMUYsdnV4_hAxoSWcr_v1p4ur5k2aAxgPAOcQ7L6Uv_b6ceJoRvFmDNyzkLZ7ao0qCljpGEE5PgDKzYjs0/s320/photo-9.JPG" width="240" /></a></div>
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Menu board - that will also have a running shopping list pinned to it. Because I cant remember a damn thing.</div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgDYLdWKiG-Kok8qbBzzCLt87DCdFbmWY6pQgdaeob0Tfh7_rsram5r211-PkcQVyFG2jF4rRIp-9EP_W9VfDSY2aLn2e5X8dSB6Dgc09bOOYuQQoqdOYzuqyeEWnbirl9z_JU0B8l7o-8/s1600/photo-10.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgDYLdWKiG-Kok8qbBzzCLt87DCdFbmWY6pQgdaeob0Tfh7_rsram5r211-PkcQVyFG2jF4rRIp-9EP_W9VfDSY2aLn2e5X8dSB6Dgc09bOOYuQQoqdOYzuqyeEWnbirl9z_JU0B8l7o-8/s320/photo-10.JPG" width="240" /></a></div>
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Laundry sorter, that I vow to actually use now. A table for my wetbag - and before you laugh, I have 7 wetbags and not a darn one of them hold up to this Trader Joes bag! We have our deep freezer all set up (freezer meals here we come!), and all the cabinets above the washer and dryer are sorted with all the cleaners - away from little hands.</div>
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The closest is perfect for the vacuum, spot bot, and steam mop. It also has all the extra blankets and sheets in bags for when we need extras, and all the board games we have (that we never use). </div>
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Im impressed with the progress. Everything has a place and we are able to FIND everything, which is huge. I thought about filtering these pictures and making them look whimsical and like we live in a cloud of perfect, but then I realized - this is real life. Take it or leave it, this is how shit looks, all the time. </div>
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Next up is the kitchen and dining room. This will include cabinet locks, because although we only put plastic down low, I am so tired of finding my tupperware in the toybox. </div>
Annehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08350324287027740120noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3701025960216852714.post-35293368068818314012013-05-23T08:35:00.001-07:002013-05-23T08:35:27.426-07:00Things you learn during pregnancy insomnia: I should footnote that title "Part One", because there will inevitably be parts 2-200 to come.<br />
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I've never really slept at night to begin with, so have a tiny break dancer taking up residence in my belly only exacerbates that condition. Its not uncommon for me to stay away until 1-2 am, doing nothing of use, for no good reason.<br />
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Lately, Ive started trolling eBay for good "deals" on things I need for myself / the baby. Generally speaking, eBay is a treasure trove of goodies. You can find actual retailers on there that sell "flawed" versions of their goods (literally, a mis-stitch or a small bleach stain) that go for a third of retail. If I were rich I would buy only perfect items. But Im not, so at any given moment youll find me in a slightly flawed ensemble. I find it just a representation of my life - generally pretty, but slightly flawed.<br />
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Last night I stumbled upon something that baffled me.<br />
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I was searching for an alternate delivery gown. Have you heard of these? They are prettier versions of a hospital gown, that you purchase to wear during your stay there. The colors look good in pictures, and they arent covered in other peoples bodily fluids, which is well worth 30$ in my eyes. Because - ew. Anyhow, heres an example of one:<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiGe9jOupcl_Mprfm8QhNSWudm7pxjX54z3IEbRud7TG8ilsI0G9U9p3gNDcWc9BGhuT9njnms8nMlYjve7S0lyOCFMnHp3g5SdvYFvfp6NOWYCa3zpVy-DK4DcQKpTg8LHwFJdvIK3Loo/s1600/!BlQGh5gB2k~$(KGrHqQH-E!EtrR(0c-QBL,35HjM0w~~_12.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiGe9jOupcl_Mprfm8QhNSWudm7pxjX54z3IEbRud7TG8ilsI0G9U9p3gNDcWc9BGhuT9njnms8nMlYjve7S0lyOCFMnHp3g5SdvYFvfp6NOWYCa3zpVy-DK4DcQKpTg8LHwFJdvIK3Loo/s320/!BlQGh5gB2k~$(KGrHqQH-E!EtrR(0c-QBL,35HjM0w~~_12.JPG" width="213" /></a></div>
Cute, right? It has snaps in the back instead of string that refuses to be tied, and its nice and soft. And clean, did I mention not covered IN OTHER PEOPLES BODILY FLUIDS? Dont give me that bleach shit. Bleach cannot erase the things those gowns have seen.<br />
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Anyways, I dig these gowns. You can get them NIP (new in package - you need to get up on the eBay lingo) for a little cheaper from smaller sellers. Sounds great, Im in.<br />
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BUT, they apparently also sell "sexy maternity hospital gowns". They look like this:<br />
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I mean, I guess if youve got it like that, BY ALL MEANS. If you are so damn sexy that you cant bear the thought of pushing a baby out without wearing something that shows your curves, more power to you. But can I just suggest? Give yourself a break ladies. God rested on the seventh day, and its okay to walk through the hospital with sleeves on. Its okay, for one small day, to not shake what your momma gave you.<br />
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I know some people will argue that this style is so much more freeing and comfortable. Im going to call shenanigans right now. First, halter tops are as comfortable as stilettos - and if you think stilettos are comfortable, you are a freak and you do not count in this survey. Second of all, naked is freeing and comfortable, and get used to it because by the time you crown (look that up if you dont know what it means), believe me, you will be throwing sexy outside the first window in favor of "get it out and I dont care how you have to do it".<br />
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Third, not one person is going to be focused on your top half. If youd like to be sexy and fun this might be a good time to try vajazzling. Your doctors will surely find you unforgettable then.<br />
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Stay tuned for the next chapter, which will include the appropriate response when your husband asks you why you cant just go to bed already. Hint, it includes the words "you lay down and Ill punch you repeatedly in the bladder, and you tell me how much you can sleep".<br />
<br />Annehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08350324287027740120noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3701025960216852714.post-81814052209581250012013-05-13T08:51:00.003-07:002013-05-13T08:57:35.143-07:00PGALIts been a long time since I updated here. There were plenty of times that I thought about it.<br />
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Plenty of times I needed it. Plenty of times I had enough to fill the page.<br />
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In the end, I obviously never did. Putting pen to paper (or, keyboard to screen) means that you have to take a long look at whats going on ... and, it means that you have to have time, which is something that has been at a premium with a cross country move, a toddler, a teenager ...<br />
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... and a pregnancy.<br />
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I am currently almost 25 weeks PGAL, which stands for Pregnant After A Loss. I was one of the very lucky few who had to wait almost no time at all for my "rainbow baby" to come around.<br />
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There are times when I feel so blessed for it.<br />
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There are times when I feel guilty for it.<br />
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There are times when I feel terrified about it.<br />
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I was in a whirlwind of emotion after the miscarriage. I didnt have time to process what had happened before we suddenly were moving completely across the country. In a way, thats a blessing, because there was very little time to really work myself up with sadness or anger.<br />
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Not that those things didnt come. I vacillated between being completely horrified that God had let something like that happen to us, and being secure in the knowledge that the worst was over. There were moments when I was able to think - we can try again. This isnt over. And until then, we already have so much.<br />
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I immersed myself into a culture on the internet, one that most people probably havent seen. It is the loss community. There are so many ladies .... so many ... who have gone through pregnancy and infant loss. I was shocked by how many people that I knew that had been through it. I poured my heart out in message boards and read stories of women who had been through SO MUCH worse. I saw women go on, day after day, with multiple losses, with late term losses, with empty arms that still waited. Once I realized how EASY my loss was, I knew I had to keep calm and carry on (for lack of a better term). If these women could go through what they had, and still keep surviving, my pain wasnt a drop in the bucket in the sea of grief.<br />
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Allen and I wanted to try again, as soon as we could. We didnt prevent anything from happening, but both of us assumed that it would take a cycle or two to get back into the swing of things. I had a wonderful friend send me a box of supplies to help us TTC (try to conceive) again when we were ready. That box sat in wait, and I was so anxious to break it out, to try again. I felt like trying again gave me a sense of purpose - sure, the bottom had fallen out, but knowing that we had a game plan made it seem manageable.<br />
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So we waited. And we waited. And waited for a cycle that never came .... I ignored it mostly, figuring that everyone said things were out of whack after a loss. We enjoyed Thanksgiving together, with only one major breakdown on my end. I trained for and ran my first 5k, and planned a night with my girlfriends. We prepared for renting out our home and for moving. Life went on ...<br />
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Then came a series of very confusing tests, and blood tests. I was told to come back, and come back again. There was a week of limbo - but I knew. I knew that something was happening again.<br />
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And sure enough, just over a month from the end of my miscarriage, I was pregnant again. Apparently this is more common than anyone knows. They dont have a reason for it, but some theories state that the body is more "primed" for pregnancy right after a loss, and hormone levels may be higher, causing the body to retain another pregnancy. Who knows exactly what happened for us - all I know is that suddenly I was grieving a loss, prepping for a move, and pregnant with another baby.<br />
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I was cautious to tell people, as one could imagine. Still, Ive always leaned on my friends during the hard times, and this was no different. I was able to tell the ladies from my birth month board, and a few friends who were extra supportive during my loss. I told everyone with a footnote: "I had a positive test, but I dont know what will happen".<br />
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It was especially hard to tell the people that I had become close to by bonding over loss. It was hard to say that I had been given the thing that we wanted so much, especially when those people had been trying for longer, or had gone through multiple losses. The guilt can sometimes be overwhelming, because I wish I could give this gift to those who are waiting who so deserve it. I cannot wait to rejoice and praise God with those people when their time comes. I wait anxiously and pray because I know that its coming, and what a wonderful happy day that will be.<br />
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Every second of early PGAL is agony. During the first week I knew I was pregnant, I started to have awful cramping that reminded me of my miscarriage. I laid on the floor and sobbed, knowing the end was near again. I couldnt believe that in such a short time I could possibly lose so much. Of course, the baby was just burrowing in nice and tight, but no matter how many times the outcome is good, you cannot stop the all consuming, overwhelming fear that you feel every single day. The fear that its just a matter of time before you are right back in that hospital hearing the news. Its just a matter of time before this baby is taken too.<br />
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Sometimes the fear is hard for people to understand. Here you are, pregnant, just like so many people want. WHY cant you just be happy?! I dont know the answer to that. I know that I try, every day, to say "today I am pregnant and I love my baby". I try to relish every kick, every roll, every night of heartburn and leg cramps. I try to know that its okay to prepare for baby. Its okay to think about the future. IF the worst were to happen again, I know that no amount of worry causes it, and no amount of worry prevents it. Shit just happens sometimes and then you have to work through it. As hard as that is, its the thing that helped me deal with one thing at a time in early pregnancy. And, even know, at 25 weeks, I still use that motto.<br />
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Our baby is a girl. She is due in August. She will have two wonderful big brothers, and a daddy who adores her. Some days, often, I think about the baby we lost. I feel like I dont have a right to feel sad, because it was early and it was quick. I know mommas who have lost so much more. What I went through just doesnt compare. But, every once and again, I think "we should have found out the sex" or "we should be 8 months pregnant". On Mothers Day I thought of the baby, and how I would have been HUGE by now. Im convinced it was a boy, though I guess that doesnt really matter. I know that baby only knew a tiny bit of life before s/he was taken to heaven, to a beautiful place. And so maybe thats something to remember, if it ever gets hard.<br />
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Its also hard to say, I wish we could have kept that baby. Because if we had, then we wouldnt have this one. Can you really choose one over the other? Can you say, I wish things had been different? Because if not for this, then we wouldnt have that ..... I guess thats a rabbit hole no one really needs to fall down. No sense in driving yourself crazy over something that doesnt make sense anyways.<br />
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We will name her Gabrielle, which is a feminine of Gabriel. Gabriel was a messenger from God, and in a way maybe our little girl is too. She sends the message that with every storm comes peace, and no matter how much rain falls, sometimes you get a rainbow too.<br />
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<br />Annehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08350324287027740120noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3701025960216852714.post-40128000138763492752012-12-03T16:06:00.002-08:002012-12-03T16:06:41.528-08:00Where we go from here:For starters, we go to California.<br />
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Im not sure if Ive mentioned this yet, but in true Army fashion we have orders at the most INCONVENIENT and UNEXPECTED time. We were told we couldnt even look at another duty station until our two year mark had passed here, that this place is a black hole that youre in forever, yah yah yah. Thats funny because by the time we leave here we wont even have been here two years.<br />
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Such is life.<br />
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Healing is slow going, but I hope that means that its going to be done right. Every day gets a little easier, though every day I deal with things that take me aback. I have stuck a bit close to home since every time I get my wits about me to venture out something seems to upset me and I feel like Im set back to the beginning.<br />
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Most of the people in my life have been amazing, fantastic, wonderful. There are a few that dont understand, but I forgive them. There are one or two who Ive had to pull back from because they arent in a place with themselves where they can give me the gentleness that I need. And thats okay - not their fault. I think right now Im in self preservation mode, and while usually I can be pretty go with the flow, Im having to change that mentality a little to protect my fragile spirit.<br />
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Some days are good. Some days it feels like nothing ever happened. Or there are times when I can actually be in a good place - that God does these things for a reason, and that our time will come. I can hold my head up and be excited for the future.<br />
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And then other times, its harder than I could ever explain. We didnt have long with this baby, but I cant explain why it crushes the way it does. It was more the promise of the future we had, for that time. And now we are back to TTC again. And its such a soul sucking process that it makes me want to scream. On any given day Im drinking POM juice and green tea and taking b complex and prenatal and folic acid and temping and using OPKs and Vitex ..... and on and on and on. Its like a full time job and no matter how hard you work at it there is just no promise for a good ending. Its exhausting and it makes me want to just give up sometimes.<br />
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I wish I could see into the future. If I could just know that one day well have another healthy baby, I think I could relax a little. Instead the unknown drives me crazy. It makes me a bitter person. I have so much to be thankful for, and yet I feel like its all tarnished by what we dont have.Annehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08350324287027740120noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3701025960216852714.post-42662372865235387932012-11-23T16:56:00.000-08:002012-11-23T16:56:14.593-08:00Didnt we almost have it all?Its been months since Ive touched this blog. Life seemed to always get in the way and even though there are a thousand things to say, there isnt ever enough time to say them.<br />
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But now, I find myself compelled to put the words down, and to make sure that there is a place I can go to, in a few months, or a few years, if I want to remember. Inevitably, no matter how badly things hurt right now, I know they wont always hurt this way. And someday I might even forget how things happened. And even with the hurt, I dont want to forget.<br />
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On October 25, 2012, I went to a playdate with some of our friends here. I was telling them how horrible the last few days had been - I was tired, crabby, and everything hurt. Someone jokingly said “maybe youre pregnant!”. I laughed it off - even though we had been trying, since it took us so long to have John I never thought that we would get pregnant so soon.<br />
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The day we had John we knew we wanted another baby. It was instantaneous. Although I breastfed him for a year, I prayed my period would return so that we could try to conceive again as quickly as possible. It finally came back in July, after Johns birth in September, and we began trying right away.<br />
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So the idea that it could happen that quickly was crazy to me - I had only had 2 cycles since then. I called Allen on the way home, and told him what everyone had said. I told him I was on cycle day 42, but that wasnt a concern since I had really long ones after having John. He said hed pick up some of those dollar store tests on the way home anyways, so that we had a stockpile. I had been testing like crazy on the previous cycles since they were SO long.<br />
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He came home and I took the test, which was immediately stark white. It didnt hurt as bad as the last times, because I still had hope that good things were coming. I set the test down for a few minutes, and then went back to look again, just in case.<br />
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Sure enough, I saw a shadow of something in the test line. I took it out to the windowsill, where I culd see just the SMALLEST shadow of a second line. I immediately called Allen into the room, and asked him if that was what I thought it was ... and with a smile he said yes!<br />
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The day before I had a friend get a positive test, only to start her period a day later. With that news (which I had told Allen) we were super cautious about getting excited. We went to Devons football game like normal, and on the way home I stopped to get a pack of First Response tests. I took one and a second line appeared pretty quickly. Same thing for in the morning. At that point I let myself believe it - we were definitely pregnant again!<br />
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I told so many people that second day. There was something in me that said maybe I should wait, maybe this wasnt going to last, but I ignored it as paranoia. Looking back, Im glad that I did.<br />
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I went and had my first appointment, and everything looked good. We announced it to the world via FB later that day. Allen and I both were over the moon - we had actually tried, and planned, to have a baby and it worked. Anyone who knows our history knows that we have never been able to do that before. I was so excited for John to have a sibling close in age, and for our family to grow. Some people struggle when they bring kids into their marriage, but for us its been the opposite. Our bond grew, our love grew, everything grew. Were better as parents than weve ever been. It only made sense that adding to that would just make the good things greater.<br />
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On November 12, Allen was off for Veterans day. Though I had felt sick the week before, the few days preceding my symptoms had lessoned, and it caused me a lot of concern. That day I felt aches in my hips and back, so when John went down for his afternoon nap I took one too.<br />
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I had a terrible, awful dream. I dont remember everything, but the part that stood out was me on the toilet, with so much blood, losing the baby. I woke up scared, but felt okay. I went to use the bathroom and thats when I saw that the dream had come to life, and there was indeed a large amount of blood.<br />
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I woke Allen up, and he told me to keep hope. But as we got John ready so we could go to the ER, I knew. The cramps came in waves, and the blood was everywhere. I told Allen before we went in that he should expect the worst.<br />
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The ER experience was horrible. I sat in a waiting room with a newborn baby and a pregnant woman for 3 hours. My body was contracting in small waves, and as I went to use the bathroom I passed a great deal of what was in there. Allen had to take John to our neighbors house, so for an hour I sat in the cold room, alone, losing my baby. I was in the worst place of my life at that moment, and I hope never ever ever to go back to that.<br />
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By the time I was finally seen, I didnt need the doctor to tell me anything. I knew in my heart that our baby was gone. I went through all the required tests, and it was definitely over. By the time I got my sonogram there was very little left. The only comfort I have in this is that I didnt have to sit and wait and see - it was obvious it was over.<br />
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The next few days are a bit of a blur. I went home that night in shock. I left for that hospital pregnant and I came home not. All the joy, the excitement, the happiness ... it was all gone.<br />
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At that point, I was glad I told people. I know that not everyone grieves the same, but for me it was so much easier to have a support group. It was easier to have love and to not do it alone. I know that we werent pregnant long, but the second I saw those two lines I was in love. I was in love with our baby, and what was to be. So, even though the loss was early, it still crushed a part of my heart that I dont know I can ever get back.<br />
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It was wonderful to have so much love in those days. From my moms group, to old friends around the world, to my online moms group .... it was nice to hear how loved we were. That people cared. That they would pray.<br />
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The night we came home, I was able to go to sleep despite cramps. I woke up at 4 am in terrible pain. I never expected to have to go through so much physical pain after having so much mental pain already. It was like the early stages of labor, when the contractions are just getting to be unbearable. But labor is tolerable because you know what happens at the end and its beautiful. This pain was excruciating because I knew what happened at the end. And it was nothing.<br />
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Thankfully that was the worst of it. A miscarriage is the single worst thing I have EVER been through. I was so scared. And I was alone, on my bathroom floor, losing what was left of the baby I wanted so badly. I dont think you can prepare yourself for that. Ever.<br />
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Every day gets easier. I have so much happiness in my life, and I am so grateful for it. But still, there is that part of me that wonders, why? Why does this have to happen? Why, if we werent meant to have more children, why not just make us sterile? Why give us the one thing we wanted so badly, only to take it right back? God and I have had some serious talks lately. But I will never forget that on that bathroom floor, I just prayed for Him to be beside me. The pain, all of it, was too much to bear and I thought my heart would stop from the sadness.<br />
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But it didnt. And He didnt let me do it alone. So even when I am so MAD at Him (and yes, sometimes its okay to be mad at God) I remember that He didnt want to do this to me. He doesnt love that we had to suffer. I may never know why this had to happen, but I know that Im still alive. So there is a purpose out there for me.<br />
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Some people have said “thank God it happened early”. And to an extent, I am grateful for that. Early, and naturally. But the pain is still there. I still miss what could have been. I should have been able to have an ultrasound that showed a little jumping bean by now. And at Christmas I would have started to show a little. After the new year we were going to find out what we were having. And in July, our family would have expanded.<br />
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All of these milestones are going to be hard. Thanksgiving I just sat down and cried until my heart wanted to burst, because that wasnt at all what I imagined it would be. I should have been happily eating to my pregnant hearts content. Instead I had to think about what wasnt going to happen for us.<br />
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Maybe we will be able to get pregnant again. I know that seems like a comforting thought, but sometimes its not. If this can happen once, there is nothing to stop it from happening again. Never again in my life can I assume that a pregnancy test = a baby. Never can we assume that getting pregnant is the end of the battle ..... its just one more step in a long and heartbreaking process to try to do something that seems to come so easily to the majority of the world. There are days when I dont even know if trying again is worth the heartbreak that it can bring. Maybe I am only meant to have two children. And I shouldnt complain about that, because its two more than so many people get. I have to remember to count my blessings.<br />
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Overall, we will survive. Sometimes I feel like I am perfectly okay. Other times my heart feels like lead. Like its never going to work right again. I feel like Ive failed everyone - John, Devon, Allen. All the people who love us and were expecting us to produce yet another funny and spirited baby. I feel like Ive failed myself, since this just shouldnt be SO hard to do. How many women get pregnant every day? How many women can produce multiple babies? And yet I cant just carry one. It seems so ridiculous.<br />
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I dont know what will happen in the future. Most of the time, I cant think further than today. All the times that we planned on this huge family seem so silly. So naive. So maybe just thinking about today is the best that we can ask for.<br />
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Well never forget. Even though we never held this baby, and we had so little time with it, it doesnt matter. It will always be a part of us.<br />
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<br />Annehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08350324287027740120noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3701025960216852714.post-50118948995288500302012-06-25T08:50:00.000-07:002012-06-25T08:50:19.251-07:00Things men dont get, part 354Im probably going to have to strangle Allen soon.<br />
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Men dont understand that when a woman is waiting on news that is life changing (not pregnancy, lets clear that up now) she needs to know whats going on.<br />
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So, say you were going to make a phone call around 8 am that was going to give us an answer to a question that COULD throw your whole life in a different direction (are you following? Its confusing). IF, hypothetically speaking, the call didnt complete at the appointed time, you should CALL YOUR WIFE AND LET HER KNOW THAT. Because she MIGHT be sitting at home pacing, wanting an update.<br />
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But IN GENERAL men dont get that. They hang up the phone, say “eh, Ill do it later”, and then 3 months from that time they decide to tell you that they didnt “get a chance”.<br />
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Rage.Annehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08350324287027740120noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3701025960216852714.post-78724074910742755642012-06-19T20:55:00.003-07:002012-06-19T20:55:48.519-07:00Blogging on the run.Or, on the stand anyhow.<br />
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Im currently standing in front of the TV to blog, as the only safe place in this house seems to be the top of the stand these days. Mr. Mobile (AKA John Douglas) broke his second MAC charger in as many months today. We go through these things like candy, and they arent cheap ($80 a pop to be exact). His obsession with the laptop started when we used to skype with daddy over deployment, and now he wants to be on it all the time. We even went so far as to buy him a kids laptop, but he isnt easily fooled. He wants the real thing, and hes quick. He gets to the charger before I get to him, and APPLE products are made to break so that they can take all your money. I hear they are accepting body parts now as currency.<br />
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In other news, I finally got all my transcripts sent into Columbia College (no easy task when youve gone to college THREE places). I still have no real idea what track Ill take, but I realize that I have to do SOMETHING. My brain needs to be in motion, and crafting from Pinterest (while amusing) just isnt my thing. I WISH it were my thing. I have friends that can make a loveseat out of fucking Coke cans - and thats awesome. But every time I try to do something (say, stain a frame for fathers day???) it ends up looking like a 3rd grade art project. Though thats insulting to 3rd graders.<br />
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So, Im going back to school. Even if I dont go back to work, there is nothing wrong with being educated. In addition, Im picking up my LSAT book. My goal is to take the test by September of next year. Maybe Ill never go to law school (because have you seen the price tag?), but at least I can say I did it. And at this point, thats enough.<br />
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Maybe I can do it all. Or, I can at least try. Ive always dreamt of being a lawyer, but Ive always let excuses get in the way (no money, kids need me, good enough job, no time, ect). I only have one life ... ONE. I dont want to make excuses forever. It may never work out, I may never practice law, but all the ways I try to get there are only going to make me better.<br />
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And now is a good time, since we are ready for baby #3. Of course, we have no idea if we can even get pregnant again, since John was such a surprise. So I think school / law school is a great track to go on. At least its one that I can control.<br />
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<b><i>But, it would be socially irresponsible not to at least try to produce more of these </i></b></div>
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<br />Annehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08350324287027740120noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3701025960216852714.post-69108334086969369432012-06-11T15:56:00.003-07:002012-06-11T15:56:37.038-07:00Hell has frozen over.As you know, my child has won the award for clingiest baby EVER for all the months of his life. But right now he is behind me playing.<br />
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Quietly.<br />
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By himself.<br />
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I attribute this phenomenon to his new ability to make “truck and racecar” noises. It really is the cutest thing. Hes only 8 months old so I thought it was a fluke, but he certainly does it enough while playing with his trucks and racecars for me to believe hes a baby genius. Thats what moms do, right? We believe our children the smartest in the world? Today I am honoring that.<br />
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Anyhow. Generally were enjoying our time here. Its nice to have some time off of chasing the big one around through all his sports/hanging out/homework/ ect. He is spending the summer building a cabin (yes, a whole cabin) with his dad in the woods of northern GA. At 13 its good for him, especially the part of being cut off from technology. He needs that.<br />
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Thankfully two of our friends from Fort Lewis are stationed here, so its been nice to hang out with some of my best friends again. I forget that level of comfort that I miss so much, until I have it again. I have some wonderful friends at Stewart BUT its true that nothing bonds you like a deployment. Those are friendships like no other.<br />
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During the days here, if we arent at Tanya or Bridgettes house, we just hang out. We play, we watch the birds, we go on walks. We Skype with friends. Its very, very low key, which isnt easy for me. But Im seeing the beauty in the slow down. There is nothing to clean, no errands to run, nothing to do but spend 5 weeks playing with my growing boy. Although sometimes I hate slow paces I know one day Ill be grateful that I got to spend some uninterrupted time just watching how much hes growing up.<br />
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Ive also been playing with my camera a bit. No worries - Im not going to open up a Facebook page and call myself a photographer! But, we bought this very nice camera (well, it was nice 2 years ago, not so much now) and it would probably serve me well to learn to use it while I have the time.</div>
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Im also going to learn to sew. This is what John thinks of that. </div>
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<br />Annehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08350324287027740120noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3701025960216852714.post-43434191818910956372012-06-07T15:36:00.000-07:002012-06-07T15:36:04.379-07:00Around the world (or, the country anyhow) in 7 days.I TOTES meant to post before this, but were settling in (and before this, were prepping for) the big cross country adventure of ours.<br />
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Yes, we took an 8 month old shrieking child in a car, and drove from coastal Georgia to Southern Arizona! Please know that we are the craziest mother fuckers ever to live, but we did it and were all in one piece. Mostly.<br />
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I now present to you a picture montage. It is titled “Who thought this was a good idea?”.<br />
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<b><i>Our suggested route. We deviated slightly, but you get the idea. </i></b></div>
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On Saturday the 26th, Allen decided he was going to go fishing with our neighbor during the early morning hours, leaving the night free to pack up for our planned Monday departure. This was a STELLAR plan right about until I woke up Saturday morning. The boys had left around 5 am, because men are stupid and like to believe that they are working hard when they fish. By the time we rose at 8 am, there were tropical storm warnings being blasted all over the internet / television.</div>
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First of all, what the fuck? True story, the day before I HONEST TO GOD said “Well, looks like were going to hit wonderful weather for our entire trip!”. In my defense, there was no indication that some tropical force was spinning its way towards us at the time. So of course, I panic, mostly because I want to eat the food in New Orleans and any delay in our leaving is going to prevent that from happening.</div>
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Of course my husbands phone doesnt get service on the ocean (and because hes an asshole), so I go into DEFCON 3 panic mode. Johns crying, Im throwing clothes around and crying, and I believe I texted Allen to not bother coming home so that Beryl could take his ass out to sea.</div>
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Listen, real life isnt always pretty.</div>
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However, he got home, we got everything calmed down, and we decided to hit the road one day early - ahead of the storm.</div>
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<b><i>This took about 7 hours. </i></b></div>
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We made the relatively uneventful drive to Pensacola. I had pre-booked our hotels for the stay, but this one I had to wing because of the last minute plans. It wasnt terrible, but it was Memorial Day weekend so apparently people were out that dont usually stay in hotels. I spent most of the night listening to some folks who probably just got released from jail fighting with the management over their hotel room. I have no idea what the issue was, but I heard the words “AC”, “new room”, and “I will cut a bitch” a lot. The next day we headed to the beach (new favorite place!), rented chairs and an umbrella, and had a great day together. Allen and I made inappropriate comments the entire time - I wonder why we dont have a TV show but I figure its because 90% of the time we just watch TV in our underwear. No one wants to see that. </div>
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<b><i>John and Daddy checking out the beach</i></b></div>
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The next day was our 5 year anniversary (still havent killed each other, huzzah!) and on to New Orleans. Hello, I love you NOLA. When you drive through the city its not much to see. Its a little dirty and sort of scary. But then you get into the actual town and you realize what all the fuss is about yo. We valeted the car at the hotel (any city that requires valet is thumbs up in my book) and headed straight for Cafe Du Monde. Id never had a beignet but I was going to correct that, poste haste. Then we saw the cathedral, some of the shops, and ate lunch. Then we went back out and ate dinner at Ralph and Kacoos. Sort of touristy but NOLA (for all its wonderful-ness) isnt super baby friendly. However, John was a darling for that dinner. And, I had alligator for the first time.</div>
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Basically I was like Pac Man down the streets of New Orleans. I just ate my way from one side of the city to the other. The next day we hit the National WWII Museum, which I highly recommend! </div>
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<b><i>John ready for dinner with the grown ups!</i></b></div>
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Then we headed to a pit stop in Sealy, TX. Absolutely nothing to see there, just a good halfway point until our next stop. </div>
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<b><i>The kid loves the steering wheel. I mean, whatever works right?</i></b></div>
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The next day we headed out to stay with two of my fellow September mommas (who both ended up being August mommas, oddly!). Jaquelyn was a most wonderful hostess, and Allen and her husband ended up getting along pretty well. It was a great few days, and John is WAY better when surrounded by other babies. That probably means we need more.<br />
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<b><i>Mommas and babies on the lake!</i></b></div>
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After two wonderful days there, we said goodbye and headed for El Paso (our last day in TX!). My wonderful friend Sarah offered up a home cooked meal and we gladly accepted. We also brought our screeching child over to remind them just why they dont want children :P<br />
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And then we arrived at our destination! So Ive been settling us in for the month and a half that were here, before I turn around and do it all over again in reverse. I obviously am a glutton for punishment.<br />
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Like I said - who does this shit?Annehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08350324287027740120noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3701025960216852714.post-12958240347244119412012-05-19T11:23:00.001-07:002012-05-19T11:23:39.733-07:00Day 2 of InsanityI'd type more but it hurts to think. Annehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08350324287027740120noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3701025960216852714.post-83742380452104097692012-05-18T17:09:00.002-07:002012-05-18T17:13:24.567-07:00Insanity - Day 1First, a little mothers day update (which includes “why Im an asshole”).<br />
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So before bed on Mothers Day eve, I had convinced myself that no one did anything for me, so I went to bed pissed off in my head.<br />
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(Am I the only one who does this? Sometimes I like to get mad about things that havent happened yet.)<br />
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So when I woke up the next morning, I saw roses and chocolates on the table, my first thought was “how original” (listen, Im a bitch sometimes. I would never SAY that, but I thought it because I was in a shit mood, my kid doesnt sleep, and I had already decided that my day sucked). Of course I got over it really quickly, but theres honesty.<br />
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Daddy took the baby for me, and I cleaned a bit (welcome to motherhood bitches). Then I took a long bath and we took some pictures. Then they took me to eat and THEN - they took me to get measured for custom inserts for my running shoes. Which is a big effing deal because I was starting to fear shin splints and I couldnt figure out why (since I just spent over 100$ on quality shoes). Turns out I have the worlds flattest feet and I had to get the highest arch support I could get without going to a foot doctor to get special special ones. Thank you both children for the 70+ pounds I gained while gestating them. A very good day, Allen wins, I suck. Fathers Day is now an exceptional challenge, especially as we will be in Arizona for that particular holiday.<br />
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Which brings me to the next subject (the fat, not Arizona, which is a whole other stressor). Today I started Insanity. And it is, indeed, insane.<br />
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Obviously I havent been “thin” in awhile. While I avoided the freshman 15, I packed on the marriage 15, and then the office 20 (where you sit at a desk and everyone brings fucking birthday cake in). Added to that was the fact that I was sick with John for about 4 months (not as bad as some though, holy cow) and all I wanted was loaves of bread and jelly beans (congrats to my child for not being born as a cherry flavored Jelly Belly). Then with the move it was SO HOT that I never left my recliner. So that was about 60 pounds, after all was said and done (and the baby was out) that I needed to get off my ass (and my every where else).<br />
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Breastfeeding helps, of course, but no one tells you about the raging hunger that comes with nursing. If you think pregnancy hunger is bad, times that by about 56 and you have nursing hunger. Dont even bother trying to fight it at first - it consumes you. And while youre establishing your supply dieting can be super harmful to long term feeding. So I accepted my fat, for the short term.<br />
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Around Christmas John hit 3 months, and I greenlighted myself (with a little advice from my fabulous midwives) to start dieting. I hit WW breastfeeding plan and it really worked. Since my 2 week PP checkup I am down over 35 pounds and still going.<br />
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But, ADD as I am, I need more. Ive hit a plateau, and the only way to kick it back into gear is to switch it up.<br />
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So I put out an add on the sales site to buy P90x. And I thought thats what the girl gave me, but it turns out it was insanity. So then it gets interesting.<br />
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I wasnt really familiar with insanity, so I watched the infomercial. Basically its this insanely (no pun intended) and comically well chiseled dude who is pushing you beyond “anything your body can do”. And then everyone gets strong and has abs and thinks working out is the best thing ever. And maybe the program will kill you, but if it doesnt then youll be hot. But if it does, not their fault, youre weak. And then you get a tshirt.<br />
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I decided what the hell - might as well at least TRY right? Today I did day 1, which was the fit test.<br />
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And I FAILED.<br />
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Not really. You cant actually fail the test. But if lying on the floor in a pool of your own sweat gasping for air and water is right, then Id rather be wrong.<br />
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Shaun T assures me that next time I take the fit test I will not be crying. I guess well see in a few weeks.<br />
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Also, Shaun T reminds me of the “hey girl” ads. Hes all like “hey girl, I know its hard. But I believe in you. Dig deeper, youll be thin, and then you can wear your free tshirt to the gym”.<br />
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ALSO, here are some mothers day pictures I took of the boys. Please disregard the 4th grade text edits - I can work a camera but not an editing software. </div>
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<br />Annehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08350324287027740120noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3701025960216852714.post-53112048903265037842012-05-12T06:42:00.000-07:002012-05-12T06:42:03.335-07:00Mothers Day EveThis is exactly what I shared with my moms group the other day:<br />
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<b><i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'lucida grande', tahoma, verdana, arial, sans-serif; line-height: 14px;">I</span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'lucida grande', tahoma, verdana, arial, sans-serif; line-height: 14px;">m not reminding anyone about mothers day this year. I'm not going to go out and buy my own gift (like usual). I'm not saying anything to remind them. I'm going to sit back and let them handle it for once.</span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'lucida grande', tahoma, verdana, arial, sans-serif; line-height: 14px;"><br /></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'lucida grande', tahoma, verdana, arial, sans-serif; line-height: 14px;"><br /></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'lucida grande', tahoma, verdana, arial, sans-serif; line-height: 14px;">Sink or swim mother fuckers.</span></i></b><br />
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="line-height: 14px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;">Stay tuned to see what happens!</span></span>Annehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08350324287027740120noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3701025960216852714.post-61949047876735180842012-05-11T18:38:00.001-07:002012-05-11T18:59:14.190-07:00Blog hop sounds like something Id do while drinking ....So this is my first official participation in a blog hop, but from what I see, I sort of dig it.<br />
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The awesome <a href="http://household6diva.com/">Household 6 Diva </a> and <a href="http://ridingtherollercoaster.com/">Riding the Roller Coaster</a> are co-hosting this awesome hop, and if they are doing it, its good enough for me!<br />
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I vacillate between fun posts and serious ones. I have a lot of opinions, but I try to present them in a non-confrontational format. I dont want to be all up in your koolaid yo. Im laid back in general, but super self conscious ... I want people to love me. Ill let you know how that works out for me.</div>
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I’ve been an army wife for 5 years now (though it seems like forever). I took some time off from blogging when I had my youngest. We call him the baby dictator (aka The Small One) and hes 7 months. 7 very loud months.</div>
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I also have a 13 year old (The Large One), and my husband (The Very Large One), who is more work than the other two put together!</div>
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I am a SAHM for the first time, after years in the workforce. Im still coming around to the idea, but in the meantime I practice all sorts of interesting parenting habits - to include breastfeeding, cloth diapering, baby wearing, and teaching my children how to be really awesome (and, sadly, spoiled). </div>
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I dont write about the army all that much - the longer were in, the less it seems important. But sometimes youll get snippets. Mostly I like to talk about hot topics, funny things that happen throughout the day, or important milestones. Youll get a bit of everything here! </div>
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<b><i>Here we are ! </i></b></div>
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You can get a general idea of who I am by browsing around, I wont bore anyone with the details (hi, Im Anne, Im a Capricorn, I love Glee and Oreos ....), but generally speaking if Im around, I try to keep it fresh ... to death.<br />
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I also love Jersey Shore.<br />
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<br />Annehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08350324287027740120noreply@blogger.com5tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3701025960216852714.post-53794145446593026532012-05-11T14:04:00.000-07:002012-05-11T14:04:17.416-07:00Why Im leaving the “TIME” lady alone (and why you might at least consider it too).Yes, every one is in an uproar about this attachment parenting thing, after this weeks cover of TIME.<br />
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And I get it - they certainly didnt publish the cover photo so that everyone would say “look at that nice mom who is breastfeeding. That looks nice and normal, nothing to really talk about there”. They put the exact photo, that exact way, so that people would talk.<br />
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And they are. And now Im one of them.<br />
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But, instead of waxing on about how the mother (Jamie Grumet, a 26 year old from LA) is right or wrong, Im going to do one better. And say shes neither.<br />
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TIME got itself a story, and a Facebook buzz, and probably a trending Twitter tag (#extremebreastfeeding). People quickly came out to say that what she was doing was disgusting, criminal, psychologically scarring. People who formula feed, people who breastfeed, people who dont have children - the consensus was that, no matter how fucked up THEIR way is, at least its not Jamie Grumet fucked up!<br />
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The only thing I see wrong with that, is its setting ALL camps back, after everyone has been fighting for so long. No matter how we feed (or discipline, or diaper, or parent in general) our children, we want to be respected. We want someone to tell us, “youre doing a good job”. We want people to look at us and say, “thats not the way I did it, but what a great idea. It may not work for us - but good for doing whats right for you”. We want that - but we dont want to give it.<br />
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So Im going to applaud Jamie. Not because I would do what she does (yes, John is breastfed, but no its not going to be for that long), but because I admire her courage. It cant be easy to expose yourself to the world (both your extreme idea AND your breast) and let in the barrage of opinions. According to a follow up article she has been approached and called a “child molester”, a “horrible mother”, and “a sinner”. I cannot fathom the heartbreak it would cause me to hear those words from someone. I cannot imagine how it would feel to see the community call you a shitty parent, when the exact reason you made such an extreme decision was because you loved your child so much.<br />
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So Jamie Grumet, where ever you are tonight - thank you. Thank you for having enough bravery to show the world that there are many different ways to be a good mother. Thank you for making us think outside the box, go outside our comfort zones, and make parenting today (the good, the bad, the ugly, and the naked) a topic of water cooler conversation. Maybe because of that bravery other mothers will be able to say, this is how I parent. Its not for everyone, but its for me.<br />
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In addition, I watched Jamie on the Today show, and she spoke about the cover. She said she understood why TIME used it (for controversy of course), but that its not exactly as it seems. That when she breastfeeds, its a loving, nurturing time. Its not all day, every day. Her son does not stand on a box and grab a boob. There is nothing sexual about it (and dear God, WHY can we not get over this boobs as a sexual object thing? To a grown man? Yes. To a baby or young child. NO!). Like I said (and I want to be clear on this) I would not practice extended breastfeeding in this manner. Its not for me. But I feel like the bigger picture is that a mother should be able to do what she chooses with her children AS LONG AS THEIR HEALTH AND SAFETY ARE NOT COMPROMISED.<br />
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And is this way of feeding compromising her sons health? At least mentally? I guess you could argue that. Im sure in some way it might be. Then again, there are a number of things we do as parents over the years that may cause the same mental harm - but we dont mean it. Parenting is a series of guesses - you win some, you lose some, and you hope you dont fuck them up forever.<br />
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Anyhow, thats my opinion. Everyone has one, no ones is wrong, but it sure is a shame to see people spitting hatred at someone they dont know, for a choice that she genuinely made out of love. Then again, I guess if you dont want to be judged you just do everything behind closed doors.Annehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08350324287027740120noreply@blogger.com1