tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-86579572065670036462024-03-12T21:10:49.221-04:00Adventures of Torquil and CheezeDoodleJen F.http://www.blogger.com/profile/13484738281792232215noreply@blogger.comBlogger300125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8657957206567003646.post-117285750831287342015-05-10T22:02:00.003-04:002015-05-10T22:02:36.248-04:00But I wonder what would happen if you...<br />
...Say what you wanna say<br />
and let the words fall out<br />
honestly<br />
I wanna see you be brave<br />
-Sarah Bareilles, <i><a href="https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=QUQsqBqxoR4">Brave</a></i><br />
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What does bravery look like? Over the years, folks have told me that I'm brave for watching Jay through multiple heart surgeries, for holding out hope while he was on life support, for letting him loose to be a kid after his miraculous recovery. I've been told I was a brave daughter, helping my mom through cancer and hospice and then saying goodbye. <br />
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None of those things felt especially brave to me because none of them were my choice. If you heard the words "heart failure," you'd get your kid to surgery. If you heard "brain metastasis," you'd hold her hand and cry, just like I did. You'd keep putting one foot in front of the other because there is no option to crawl in a hole. There is no sand to bury your head in. You wake up, you do your thing, and you don't stop moving. <br />
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Bravery for me looks a whole lot more like the picture above. That's me, on stage with a dozen incredible women who have transformed from strangers to amazing friends. These women were brave enough to stand up in front of 500 people to tell their stories, to share their strength, through <a href="http://listentoyourmothershow.com/raleighdurham/">Listen To Your Mother</a>. We poured our hearts out into the universe, trusting that people would laugh at the right moment and shed a tear with us. <br />
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That's brave.<br />
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We trusted that the audience would have that "Me too!" moment of connection through our stories. We opened ourselves to others in the most vulnerable ways. It was terrifying and incredible and empowering and exhausting. As I try to describe it, I know that my words are not coming close to capturing what this experience meant to me - from the moment I auditioned to the moment I walked off that stage, holding hands with the women above. But it sure felt like the bravest thing I've done in a while. It has made me want to tell my stories, to capture and preserve and share what means something to me.<br />
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Over the course of the last week, I've survived the anniversary of mom's death, several nights of intensely emotional stories about our relationships as mothers, and now Mother's Day. It's the kind of week that would have typically left me in a tearful puddle, desperately wanting a hug from my mama and pissed off at the universe that she wasn't in that auditorium watching me. But I'm not puddling at the moment. I'm smiling, so incredibly grateful for the gift of writing that I got from my mom, so grateful for the 30-odd years I had learning from the best. This non-puddly-ness surprises me, and I'm still trying to figure out how to bottle it up for the days when I am not feeling quite so brave. <br />
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I have a million thoughts about this LTYM experience and how I've been changed. They are big and small, but the one that keeps coming through is that I want to write more, to tell my story. I wish that I had more of my mom's stories written down. I would give anything to hear her stories told in her own voice. <br />
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My writing muscles are rusty. I string together a few words and I think that what is on the page sucks. Some of it does. But I know that the only way out is through, to write and edit and delete and write and write and write some more. I'm not promising daily posts here - that's going from brave to flat out lying. (Laundry calls, my friends.) But here I am, bravely promising to start writing again, because all of us have stories to share.<br />
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<a href="http://www.mylivesignature.com/" target="_blank"><img src="http://signatures.mylivesignature.com/54489/90/9BDED6A68E44EABB6BEE07C42776D009.png" style="background: transparent; border: 0 !important;" /></a>Jen F.http://www.blogger.com/profile/13484738281792232215noreply@blogger.com9tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8657957206567003646.post-14433094811995043272014-10-18T07:51:00.000-04:002014-10-18T07:51:18.303-04:00Another turning point, a fork stuck in the road...<br />
...time grabs you by the wrist, directs you where to go<br />
So make the best of this test and don't ask why<br />
It's not a question but a lesson learned in time<br />
It's something unpredictable, but in the end it's right<br />
I hope you had the time of your life<br />
-Green Day, <i>Good Riddance (Time of Your Life)</i><br />
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This blog used to be a place where I regularly made jokes about daily life, but apparently it has turned into the place where I drop big news and/or bare my soul then disappear for a few months. Tis the life with three small rugrats I suppose. Behold, more dropping of big news:<br />
<br />
I left my job on Wednesday.<br />
<br />
(Let me let that sink in a moment.)<br />
<br />
Yes, I left my job as Director of the Goodnight Scholars Program. The one I loved, my dream job in academia. The job where I was respected and appreciated by the best students on campus. The job with wonderful colleagues who worked hard and truly cared about students and their success. As I sit here writing this, the only thing going through my mind is "What the hell was I thinking?!"<br />
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But here's what I was thinking:<br />
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This kid wants to play hide-and-seek, and I always say no.</div>
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This one desperately wants me to volunteer for Farm Days at his school, but I just don't have time.<br />
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And this one? Oh my word. <br />
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I know time flies, but I am completely incapable of understanding how we went from newborn to this in approximately 5.2 seconds.<br />
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This has been brewing for a while - maybe since she was born, maybe even longer. I tried to find the elusive "balance," and had the ideal situation that any working parent dreams of. I had flexible work hours, a part time schedule, and the best childcare situation on the planet. But I became more and more bothered by the time that I was missing out on with them, and more convicted that I needed to do something different to capture this time. I finally came to the realization that I can do it all, but I can only do a halfway job of any of it. So I'm stepping off the higher ed treadmill for a few years until I've got my feet more securely under me.<br />
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I am planning to go back to grad school. I'm halfway done with my Master's, but I'm not sure that program is really what I want anymore. Of course, I'm not really sure what I *do* want, so I am going to spend a little time figuring out which direction I want to head. I know that this isn't the end to my working career, but I am really unsure what the next chapter holds. I do hope it's back at NC State, and I fully expect that it will be. But in my heart, I need an outlet to create, whether that is writing, photography, cardmaking, or crafting. I am re-energized when I make things with my hands, and that desire has been ignored for a long time. Who knows what might happen when my creative juices start flowing again?<br />
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Saying goodbye to the people I love at State has been so hard. My students threw me a going away celebration which was just perfect. There were lots of hugs, some favorite stories from back in the day, and a goodbye video which created the perfect mix of laughs and tears. One of my students is Native American, and she performed a <a href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Smudge_stick">smudging ceremony</a>, which I had never seen. She wrapped me in a blanket as a sign of honor, then smudged me using smoke to cleanse my spirit for the next phase of my journey. It was beautiful and touching and meaningful. And I cried some more.<br />
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I'm in the center with the blanket around me as a shawl. </div>
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I am not stretching when I say that this was one of the hardest decisions of my life. I've always said that I didn't want to be a stay-at-home-mom, and frankly, I'm not sure that identity really fits me, even when I've chosen that path for myself, for this moment. I've already lined up some very part-time work that I can do from home during naptime. And I've promised my scholars that I won't be a stranger, so I hope to surprise them at some events here and there. And maybe I can finally publish that book I've written in my head a thousand times over.<br />
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So far, it feels a little like playing house. I folded 6 loads of laundry yesterday, and I had the fleeting "You quit your dream job for THIS?!" moment. And of course the answer is no. I'm not sugar coating the hard work or expecting that every day will be filled with picturesque moments of my children frolicking at the pumpkin patch. But I do believe, in my heart of hearts, that this is the right choice for this season. I can't even count how many people have said, "You will never regret this time." Most of the time, I believe them.<br />
<br />
<a href="http://www.mylivesignature.com/" target="_blank"><img src="http://signatures.mylivesignature.com/54489/90/9BDED6A68E44EABB6BEE07C42776D009.png" style="background: transparent; border: 0 !important;" /></a>Jen F.http://www.blogger.com/profile/13484738281792232215noreply@blogger.com5tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8657957206567003646.post-63794921410566328832014-05-13T01:04:00.003-04:002014-05-13T01:04:58.519-04:00It ain't always pretty, but it's real...That's the way we were made<br />
Wouldn't have it any other way<br />
These are my people<br />
-Rodney Atkins, <em>These Are My People</em><br />
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I hate "life is perfect" blogs. Frequent blog readers know the kind of mommy blog I'm talking about - the kind that is all rainbows and unicorns and sunshine and "I am blessed; Thank You God!" and perfectly composed pictures of adorable, well-dressed children. The kind that say things like "Oh, my life isn't <i>totally</i> perfect! I haven't dusted in 2 whole weeks, but I just decided to leave that dust bunny under the bed so that we could go outside and dance in the rain!" Y'all know that my household is less tiny-dust-bunny and more gigantic clutter elephant. It's less dancing in the rain and more slogging through mud puddles, then wiping muddy feet on the couch, the carpet, and the comforter. I try to be honest about my life's messes, both literal and figurative, because I very much want this blog to be genuine and authentic. I want to accurately portray real life, in all its mix of beauty and ugly.<br />
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<b>And yet.</b><br />
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I also want my life to look pretty and perfect and polished. I want to come across to the world as someone who's got her shit together. I don't, of course, but we all want to look that way, right? I want clothes that make me look skinny, even if that requires heavy duty Spanx. I want to dress my kids in adorable matching outfits. I want everyone to hold hands and behave in public, even when we are occasionally tearing each other's hair out behind closed doors. I want just ONE photo where everyone looks at the camera, smiles, and no one has visible bodily fluid on their clothing. Appearances matter. They shouldn't, of course, but we all know that they do. And now and again, I want to appear like I am doing something right. <br />
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Welcome to Mother's Day 2014, where I display to the world just how not together my shit is.<br />
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Since my <a href="http://torquilandcheezedoodle.blogspot.com/2012/04/from-this-valley.html">mom died</a>, Mother's Day has been really hard for me. I want to hide under the covers and avoid people, and then I'm pissed when I don't get treated like a queen. I get annoyed at the stream of "My mom is the bestest in the world!" on facebook. I get angry when I see the pictures of 4 generations together. I want that for my family. I want this for my kids:<br />
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<i>Me, my mom, Appie, and Mama Mildred. <br />Don't those outfits just scream "Late 70's?"</i></div>
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So in an effort to seek out joy and turn Mother's Day back into a day of celebration, I decided to have Meg's baby dedication on Mother's Day. Sounds lovely - present her to God surrounded by our family and church community on a day designed to celebrate the love of mothers. Lots of bad ideas sound lovely in theory, don't they? Here's a tip - never put more pressure on a day that has <a href="http://bethwoolsey.com/2014/05/mothers-day-may-suck-but-its-not-our-fault-yay/">more than enough</a> already. (Seriously, read that link. Beth W. nails it.)</div>
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It started out okay. The boys treated me like royalty, fixing a lovely breakfast and giving me flowers from the yard (even if I had to hint on the flowers!). I got a beautiful necklace with all three kids' names engraved on it. It was just what I wanted (I had given a hint in the past, but that just means he payed attention!). Everyone got dressed and we made it to church only 15 minutes late. For half a second I thought we were going to pull off a miracle - that we could make it all go smoothly. I had this brief vision that Mother's Day could be redeemed.<br />
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Enter TheGirlWhoWillNotNap. She didn't take a nap in Sunday School, but we still had plenty of time to rest before going into the worship service. We fed her. She pooped, but kept it in the diaper. We got her dressed in her beautiful gown. She spit up, but it wasn't too obvious. We waited patiently outside in the hallway, where she and her brother were, if not complete angels, at least presentable. <br />
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And then. <b>Then</b>. It was time for us to walk into the sanctuary. <br />
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And the little miss began to let out an ear-splitting wail that could be heard throughout the entire city. And she sustained said wail for, oh, approximately the remainder of the service. Oh yes. I have seen a lot of baby dedications, but I have never seen one where the kid screams the <b>entire</b> time. It was relentless. When the minister went to hold her, it was as if she intentionally turned and screeched into the mic. People cringed. <br />
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And it wasn't just her performing for the crowd. The boys danced around like it was a stage. Luke attempted the same forward-roll-down-the-aisle maneuver that his brother had attempted 4 years earlier at his dedication. Jay wouldn't stop pulling on Meg's dress, wrapping it around himself like a scarf. They did anything and everything they could to call some attention to themselves - which would have actually been nice if it had helped the congregation attend to something other than the Tiny Screaming One. It didn't work. Everyone who was willing to make eye contact gave us a look of such pity. And the only thing that went through my mind was "No! This is not how I wanted it to go! This was not how I planned it! I want a DO OVER!"<br />
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I know. <b><i>I KNOW.</i></b> I heard it all afterwards. "It doesn't matter, really." "She was just auditioning for the choir!" "You wanted to raise a daughter who isn't afraid to voice her opinions in church, and she sure can speak her mind." "People love to see babies in church, even when they cry." "She was just making a joyful noise." (Actually, it wasn't at all joyful, for her or any of us.) I heard all of those things after the service, and I tried to laugh. I even said some of them myself to make it seem like I wasn't so disappointed. People tried to joke with me about it. I smiled. We took pictures. I fake smiled some more.<br />
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But if I'm really honest, I am so sad. The <i>only</i> thing that anyone has said to me about it since had to do with her screaming. No one mentioned her beautiful dress or what a special thing it was to dedicate her on Mother's Day. No one gave me the pleasantries about what a nice service it was. No one even gave me the sympathetic "Wish your mom could have been here for this beautiful occasion." No one noticed anything about the service except her powerful set of lungs. Afterwards, I asked my 4 year old friend what she thought. Her response? <br />
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"Well, it was pretty much a disaster." <br />
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My thoughts, exactly, kiddo. Unfortunately, those were my thoughts <i>exactly</i>. (Direct quote, y'all. I couldn't make this stuff up.) She did give me an extra long hug, though. My fake smiles couldn't trick a perceptive little girl who somehow knew I was nursing a bruised ego and slightly broken heart. <br />
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I know that there are real problems in the world, and if a baby who cries in church (even one who cries so loudly and so screechingly that she ruins her own special day!) is my biggest problem, well then I'm pretty whiny. If two rambunctious boys is the worst part of my Mother's Day church experience, I've got it pretty good. But still, I'm gonna whine. (It is my blog, after all.) I had envisioned it as a special day, and it won't be remembered that way, either for me or for anyone else who saw it. And I'm not going to pretend I'm okay with that because I am not. I am disappointed. I am sad and disappointed. <br />
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And then, after a teary-eyed email to my wonderful angel of a friend where I finally admitted how bummed I was, I got this reply:<br />
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<span style="background-color: white; color: #444444; font-family: Calibri; font-size: 16px;">People will remember the real baby with the real family who made themselves vulnerable enough to stand before their church family and pledge to point this precious baby girl toward the goodness of God in a world where few things go the way we plan.</span><br />
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Yes. That. She may be the only one who actually remembers it that way. But I'm going to pretend that's the case for everyone who was in the pews yesterday morning. I'm going to look again at the family picture I posted at the top. <br />
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I'm going to ignore the fact that Jay appears to be wearing Meg's dress, and Luke seems to be flossing. My smile is fake, but it's a smile, and we are all, in fact, looking in the general vicinity of the camera. <br />
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"It ain't always pretty, but it's real. These are my people." <br />
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<a href="http://www.mylivesignature.com/" target="_blank"><img src="http://signatures.mylivesignature.com/54489/90/9BDED6A68E44EABB6BEE07C42776D009.png" style="background-attachment: scroll; background-clip: border-box; background-color: transparent; background-image: none; background-origin: padding-box; background-position: 0% 0%; background-repeat: repeat; background-size: auto; border-bottom-color: currentColor !important; border-bottom-style: none !important; border-bottom-width: 0px !important; border-left-color: currentColor !important; border-left-style: none !important; border-left-width: 0px !important; border-right-color: currentColor !important; border-right-style: none !important; border-right-width: 0px !important; border-top-color: currentColor !important; border-top-style: none !important; border-top-width: 0px !important;" /></a>Jen F.http://www.blogger.com/profile/13484738281792232215noreply@blogger.com5tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8657957206567003646.post-47465856485073338302014-01-09T22:34:00.002-05:002014-01-09T22:34:50.616-05:00Like a river flows......surely to the sea<br />
darling so it goes<br />
some things<br />
were meant to be<br />
take my hand<br />
take my whole life too<br />
for I can't help falling in love with you<br />
-Elvis Presley, <i>I Can't Help Falling in Love With You</i><br />
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Welcome to the world, Margaret Katherine Foster! Meg made her arrival at 7:43 on January 8th, and is lucky enough to share a birthday with Elvis. She is adorable as can be, and the song isn't just cliche - we really can't help falling head over heels in love with her already.<br />
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Derek and I headed to Rex (really) early on Wednesday morning for my scheduled C-section. After killing a forest of trees for all the consent forms, 2 IVs, and a couple liters of fluids, we headed to the OR. Derek waited in the Dad Room (the hospital equivalent of a man cave, complete with saltines, apple juice, and a Sports Illustrated from fall 2012) while they got me ready. I think when they called it the "dad room" he was really hoping for big screen TV and cigars, but having had nothing to drink since midnight, I'd have been overjoyed at the apple juice.</div>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Check out those awesome overstuffed recliners in the Dad Room!</td></tr>
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Then 30 minutes after rolling into the OR, baby Meg was born at 7:43am. Weighing in at 6lb 6oz and 20 1/2 inches, she can actually wear newborn size clothes, unlike her two brothers who popped out looking like football players.</div>
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After getting settled into our sweet corner room on the 3rd floor, we have had a steady stream of adoring fans, including two really excited older brothers (who are quickly teaching her the finer points of silly face pictures).<br />
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<a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-ZhBG4hFDl8Q/Us8ozAZCweI/AAAAAAAAD1M/LAeLdM-mc8A/s1600/IMG_5770.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-ZhBG4hFDl8Q/Us8ozAZCweI/AAAAAAAAD1M/LAeLdM-mc8A/s1600/IMG_5770.JPG" height="213" width="320" /></a></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
And I am quickly introducing her to the world of all things girly. We first got her hair done at the salon...<br />
<br />
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<a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-T40-o4D-uZo/Us8oQHxy00I/AAAAAAAAD04/5r-WiC1euPo/s1600/IMG_5686.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-T40-o4D-uZo/Us8oQHxy00I/AAAAAAAAD04/5r-WiC1euPo/s1600/IMG_5686.JPG" height="213" width="320" /></a></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
...then her nails...<br />
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<a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-itTn7Jrnct4/Us8oh7y4VKI/AAAAAAAAD1E/PWpTWbXxThk/s1600/IMG_5747.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-itTn7Jrnct4/Us8oh7y4VKI/AAAAAAAAD1E/PWpTWbXxThk/s1600/IMG_5747.JPG" height="213" width="320" /></a></div>
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<br /></div>
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and finally put every cute hat, hair bow, and accessory we could on her little head. </div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
<br /></div>
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-O8Usb7wgFcE/Us8px4ksgVI/AAAAAAAAD1Y/_Zg1hMkuWUQ/s1600/IMG_5774.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-O8Usb7wgFcE/Us8px4ksgVI/AAAAAAAAD1Y/_Zg1hMkuWUQ/s1600/IMG_5774.JPG" height="213" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Check out the headband Mommy made!</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-AyerB7r1kPk/Us8pzZvuBOI/AAAAAAAAD1g/Uf7fZOz4OZU/s1600/IMG_5789.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-AyerB7r1kPk/Us8pzZvuBOI/AAAAAAAAD1g/Uf7fZOz4OZU/s1600/IMG_5789.JPG" height="213" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">My AJ is a champion hat knitter!</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<div style="text-align: left;">
Everything has gone quite smoothly (except for getting that first poo off her little bum), and she is settling in to our crazy family. Thanks for all the kind words and prayers!</div>
<br />
<a href="http://www.mylivesignature.com/" target="_blank"><img src="http://signatures.mylivesignature.com/54489/90/9BDED6A68E44EABB6BEE07C42776D009.png" style="background: transparent; border: 0 !important;" /></a>Jen F.http://www.blogger.com/profile/13484738281792232215noreply@blogger.com5tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8657957206567003646.post-48332284524487226182014-01-04T06:56:00.000-05:002014-01-04T06:56:14.851-05:00Well I just heard......the news today<br />
Seems my life is going to change<br />
I close my eyes, begin to pray<br />
Then tears of joy stream down my face<br />
-Creed, <i>Arms Wide Open</i><br />
<i><br /></i>
<i><br /></i>
It's not exactly as if I just realized I'm going to have a 3rd kid, as the song lyric would imply. But it's what's been running through my head for the last 3 days, so I'm going with it. It's better than "I just can't wait to be king" which is what my darling son has been singing incessantly since we watched the Lion King on New Year's Eve. Not sure what he's trying to tell me with that one.<br />
<br />
So what has changed? THE date. You know, the date that Baby Girl is going to make her big entrance into the world. I remember when I was pregnant with the boys that I would finish up every workday by cleaning off my desk and making sure that I didn't leave anything in a state of halfway-doneness. (Confession time - most of the time, most of my projects at home and at work are in some various state of halfway-doneness. Those who have seen the inside of my house should try to contain their shock and awe.)<br />
<br />
This time? We know a date. A very set, definitive, choose your baby's birthday kind of date. Well, if I was really choosing her birthday, she'd have been born in October when the weather was nice. But I did at least get to semi-choose within the 37 week block the doctors approved, and I got to choose my fave doc while I was at it. And the date is?<br />
<br />
Drumroll please...<br />
<br />
<h3>
<b>Wednesday January 8, 2014.</b></h3>
<br />
Yes, people. Next Wednesday. As in, 5 days from now. THAT soon. Less than one week from today. (I am repeating this concept for my own benefit - I believe that you, my incredibly intelligent and competent readers are getting the idea. I, however, am definitely still in denial.)<br />
<br />
I was totally counting on her being late and arriving in February, but I was totally wrong. And now I'm totally behaving like a chicken with its head cut off, running around saying things like "But I have not packed my hospital bag yet!" and "But her room's not even close to ready yet!" and "But we do not have a middle name yet!" Literary types, please note the repetitive nature of "But___Not___Yet!!" I have lived in the but n<span style="text-align: center;">ot yet phase for several weeks, totally in denial that this is happening. </span><br />
<br />
The docs kept promising to check one more time in the hopes that things would change and I could go into labor on my own. Yesterday was the last of those checks. Nothing has changed since 18 weeks, so c-section is the way this wee one will arrive, and early is going to be the timing. It wasn't my plan, but I've heard the phrase "life threatening bleeding risk" enough times in recent weeks that I've come around on the idea. Bleeding to death during childbirth is definitely not on my life's To Do list. <br />
<br />
So, one last belly shot (bwahaha - that would imply that there have been other belly pics on the ole blog, and I think we can all agree that my posting schedule has gone from weekly to monthly to something more like bi-annually):<br />
<br />
<a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-wDJv-CPXmYM/UsfvB50GfnI/AAAAAAAADio/WsCm4s5eIWQ/s1600/IMG_5659.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em; text-align: center;"><img border="0" height="320" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-wDJv-CPXmYM/UsfvB50GfnI/AAAAAAAADio/WsCm4s5eIWQ/s320/IMG_5659.JPG" width="214" /></a><br />
<br />
Poor Guacamole. Third child problems - my pregnancy with this little one has not been documented and detailed like it was with the first two. And I probably won't end up with over a thousand pictures of her first week of life like I did with Jay. (I am not making this up - we have >1000 pics of him from ONE SINGLE WEEK. I mean, it was a big week, but that's a little much, even for me.)<br />
<br />
For comparison, similarly timed belly shots from all 3 kids:<br />
<a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-DhR7iZqws18/Usfu2bbkBiI/AAAAAAAADig/lPeB1oQpStU/s1600/3+babies.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em; text-align: center;"><img border="0" height="339" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-DhR7iZqws18/Usfu2bbkBiI/AAAAAAAADig/lPeB1oQpStU/s640/3+babies.jpg" width="640" /></a><br />
Who looks biggest to you? I really think that my belly looks bigger this time around - or at least it sticks more straight out. But I'm actually measuring pretty small this time around, and when she's born at 37 weeks, she will probably be ~5-6 lbs. That's a far cry from the 10 pound mammoth baby you see growing on the left.<br />
<br />
<br />
<a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-1XOIqv1totc/UsfvUf2Y_rI/AAAAAAAADiw/VC9_0iTJtu4/s1600/IMG_6614.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em; text-align: center;"><img border="0" height="320" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-1XOIqv1totc/UsfvUf2Y_rI/AAAAAAAADiw/VC9_0iTJtu4/s320/IMG_6614.jpg" width="214" /></a><br />
<br />
And just for good measure, I'll throw in what is my fave pic of me and the boys (and girl!) ever, taken in mid-November. Huge thanks to <a href="http://lizhunterphotography.wordpress.com/">Liz Hunter Photography</a> for the most fun, laid back photo session. There was headbutting, leaf throwing, rolling around on the ground, and lots of laughing. Plus the occasional tear, but that was to be expected when there's headbutting involved.<br />
<br />
And yes, I did notice that I am wearing essentially the same thing in these pics. That gray cardigan has been my uniform this time around. I do have some cute maternity clothes, but I am all about comfort at this point. Sigh. Comfortable clothes, and Tums. <br />
<br />
Seriously, I am trying to not wish away these last 5 days. I feel quite certain that our family is complete, and these 5 days are the last days I will ever be pregnant. Given my heartburn + swollen legs + general pregnancy-induced misery this time around, I kinda want to shout "Hallelujah it's almost over!" At the same time, I do love those little kicks and I know what a blessing it has been to carry all 3 of my babies. And in some ways, I don't want that to end.<br />
<br />
So that's what's new in my world. Still trying to wrap my brain around the fact that by this time next week, I will be holding my dear daughter in my arms. Now, remind me - what *do* I need in a hospital bag, anyway?<br />
<br />
<a href="http://www.mylivesignature.com/" target="_blank"><img src="http://signatures.mylivesignature.com/54489/90/9BDED6A68E44EABB6BEE07C42776D009.png" style="background: transparent; border: 0 !important;" /></a>Jen F.http://www.blogger.com/profile/13484738281792232215noreply@blogger.com9tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8657957206567003646.post-92105647061584159672013-09-16T12:41:00.000-04:002013-09-16T12:41:06.440-04:00Whoa, we’re halfway there...<br />
<div class="MsoNormal">
...Livin’ on a prayer</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Take my hand and we’ll make it, I swear</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Livin’ on a prayer</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
-Bon Jovi, Living on a Prayer</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
20 weeks, people.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>Halfway to arrival for little Guacamole, and I have finally hit the
sweet spot where I actually feel good and am enjoying pregnancy.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Please feel free to avoid pointing out to me
that I will feel something approximating awful when I develop the waddle, the
heartburn returns, and my feet swell up like sausages<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Until then, life is pretty damn fantastic.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
I am still tired as all hell, but at this point I need to
stop blaming the baby and start blaming a bit of laziness, my lack of exercise,
and the fact that I stay up too late watching Orange Is the New Black (which,
if you’re not watching, dear Netflix subscriber, <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>you should start immediately).<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Last Sunday I sent the fellas to church while I
worshiped at our sister congregation, the Church of the Neverending Laundry
Pile.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>God and I had some good quality
time together over a growing stack of folded towels. And the boys might be able
to go to school all week - wearing different underwear every. single. day.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>See?<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>Miracles abound at CNLP.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Too bad visitors
to our home can’t even see a dent in the clothing piles to be put away.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I’m told that this sudden urge to do laundry
is “nesting.”<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>We’ve got a long way to go
before this nest is ready for a new chickadee.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
I am trying to clean out clothes that are too small for the
boys and finally admit to myself that I should let them go.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I know intellectually Miss Guac probably won’t
need to wear cargo shorts and polo shirts every day.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>And she definitely won’t need size 2T boys’ underpants
– I mean, even the boys don’t really use the pee hole, but at least it seems
logical to have one for them. <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Unfortunately
I still have just a little teensy tiny bit of a hard time letting the boy stuff
go.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I have not, however, had any
difficulty shopping for pink stuff.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>She
already has her first bathing suit.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>Okay, she actually has 2 bathing suits, a coverup, AND a sun hat.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>What can I say?<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>There still a kernel of swimmer deep down
under the layers of lazy.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
In other news, the boys are boys.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Jay has had a fantastic start to Kindergarten
and is generally rocking it in the academic realm.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>We had a brief Ferris Bueller incident where
he got “sick” and needed to come home, but I quickly determined that the illness
was not contagious and instead was his testing of the elementary escape
route.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>After an unhappy afternoon spent
in his room doing homework alone, I think we’ve nipped that one in the
bud.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Just for the record, if someone
wants to send me to my room for 4 hours and tell me my only options are sleep
and reading books, I would cry tears of joy.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Luke is as cute and mischievous as ever.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Unfortunately, his current focus is on the
mischief side rather than the cute side.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>Let me give you a sample from last week:</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Scene One – Me standing on the curb talking through the
open car door.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Luke still buckled into
his booster.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
J – Okay, buddy, I know you can have a better day at school
than yesterday, right?</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
L – Right!</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
J – When Miss C and Mrs. D ask you to do something, when will
you do it?</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
L – Right away!</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
J – And how do we use our hands?</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
L – I will *not* hit my friends!</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
J – Great!<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Now let’s
go in to school.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Are you going to run?</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
L – No!<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I am going to
walk nicely.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Any guesses what happened as soon as the seatbelt came
off?<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>You got it!<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>A sprint through the parking lot for the door
of daycare, slowing only to pick up a handful of mulch and chuck it into the
road.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Scene Two, 26 seconds after Scene One – Me sitting just inside the door, looking eye-to-eye with the Mischief Man.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
J – (sternly) We already talked about running.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>When we walk down to your classroom, are you
going to hold my hand, or are you going to walk beside me?</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
L – I’m going to RUN!</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
J – Running isn’t a choice.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>Do you want to walk beside me, or do I need to hold your hand?</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
L – But I want to run fast!</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
J – Do I need to carry you? Or will you walk nicely?</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
L – No, I can run!!</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
J<i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;"> - Sigh.</i><br />
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
And, as was reported on facebook, his new fave
song goes like this:</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
"I’m gonna be mean and disrespectful, ‘cause I am not a super
friend.”<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">(Repeat x 37)</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br />
Yes, people.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Word for word, that’s the song that he was
joyously belting out during timeout last night.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>How could I make this stuff up?!<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>That is a string of 13 words that I never,
ever EVER expected to come out of the mouth of my sweet babe.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>What 3 year old uses the word disrespectful
in a grammatically appropriate fashion?<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>Answer - one who hears the word <i>way</i> too often.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I’m trusting the sweet babe will re-emerge
eventually.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>And praying to the dear Lord
above that Eventually = Soon.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<a href="http://www.mylivesignature.com/" target="_blank"><img src="http://signatures.mylivesignature.com/54489/90/9BDED6A68E44EABB6BEE07C42776D009.png" style="background: transparent; border: 0 !important;" /></a>Jen F.http://www.blogger.com/profile/13484738281792232215noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8657957206567003646.post-36585962424787900912013-08-11T21:37:00.001-04:002013-08-11T21:37:30.842-04:00At last......my love has come along<br />
My lonely days are over<br />
And life is like a song<br />
-Etta James, <i>At Last</i><br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-sLDlZ3gRkrI/UgguyIL2IkI/AAAAAAAACB8/8fcEGgktk2c/s1600/IMG_3930.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="213" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-sLDlZ3gRkrI/UgguyIL2IkI/AAAAAAAACB8/8fcEGgktk2c/s320/IMG_3930.JPG" width="320" /></a></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<i>(Yes, I realize the pink bow is as big as her head. It is as absolutely </i></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<i>tiny </i><i>as my swollen fingers could make it!)</i></div>
<br />
Yes, my friends, it's true. The Foster Four is about to become the Foster Five. And not only that, this household is going to have a little less testosterone-overload...<br />
<br />
<span style="color: #e06666;">IT'S A GIRL!</span><br />
<br />
I have never made any secret of my desire for a girl. Since I got my first Cabbage Patch Dolls (one boy, one girl, of course) I have imagined having a daughter. And when I learned that this little one is a girl, I squealed like a 4 year old girl myself. Truly, y'all, it is a dream come true. We had decided with great certainty that we were done after 3 kids. And while I would have been happy to have the 3 Musketeers running around and would have truly loved a little boy too, I am just over the moon happy to have a daughter.<br />
<br />
So, to answer the questions that everyone asks as soon as they learn the news:<br />
<br />
<b>1 - How have you been feeling?</b><br />
Like total and complete crap. I feel like I have had the flu for 3 months, and it is not getting better. Everyone says you start to turn the corner around 13 weeks. I'm at almost 16, and I see no corners in sight. I am so exhausted by 4 p.m. that I can do nothing but stumble home and collapse. Derek has been awesome with fixing dinner, keeping the boys out of trouble, getting them to bed - all the the daily-ness. He is ready for me to move past the useless stage.<br />
<br />
But I have felt like crap emotionally, too. I am no stranger to the wake-you-up-at-3-a.m.-panic-attack. I have battled a serious case of the worries for the better part of the last 20 years. But this is like nothing I've ever been through. I am waking up with nightmares every night, freaking out about one awful thing and another. In my mind, I have been through colon cancer, breast cancer, and this poor child has had every single horrible genetic condition and syndrome known to medicine. And some that medicine has yet to discover. <br />
<br />
This is especially unpleasant because I LOVED being pregnant the past 2 times. They were the only times in my life when I didn't feel the constant presence of worry-wart-ism. I had even considered being a surrogate because I felt so damn good (once I got past the first 10-ish weeks, and before I got to the huge last few weeks). I do not love being pregnant at the moment.<br />
<br />
<b>2 - When is the big arrival date?</b><br />
Jan 28th is the official date. Torquil arrived a week and a half late; CheezeDoodle arrived 2 weeks early. So this time, it's really anyone's guess. While I hesitate to wish lateness, February has a nice birthstone for the little lady (and she'd share the month with my mom and with Luke). But it would be cool to spread out the kids - we could have one in January, one in Feb, and one in March. And by Christmas, I'm pretty sure I'll be begging her to arrive early.<br />
<br />
<b>3 - What are you calling her?</b><br />
Y'all know how we are about in utero names - the blog name comes from the entertaining names we used while we couldn't come up with actual kid names. The food craving thing worked well for #2, so baby has been known to this point as "Guacamole" or just "Guac." It seemed entertaining enough, and was working for us. Derek offered me all kinds of incentives to use the "Guacamole Song," as my intro, but I'm sorry. I just couldn't do it. As a small concession to the one who has done ALL the dishes for the past several nausea-focused weeks, I will embed it here. True love, people. TRUE LOVE. <br />
<br />
<iframe allowfullscreen="" frameborder="0" height="315" src="//www.youtube.com/embed/qcHdagqlM-U?rel=0" width="420"></iframe>
(Apparently there is a Reckless Kelly version of this song, which is somewhat less awful.)<br />
<br />
But today, my future daughter-in-law declared that she should be called "Pom-Pom." I had originally pegged said daughter-in-law to Luke, but now I'm thinking she and Jay might be more well-suited ... but I digress. I'm liking Pom-Pom. We'll have to see whether Guac or Pom-pom sticks.<br />
<br />
Because we found out so early that she's a girl, and I have had my girl name picked out since I was mothering Cabbage Patch Kids, now we are starting to call her by her real name a bit. (No, I am not going to disclose the name yet - I already surprised you with the news that we're having kid #3 AND the fact that it's a girl ... isn't that enough excitement for one blog post?!)<br />
<br />
<br />
<a href="http://www.mylivesignature.com/" target="_blank"><img src="http://signatures.mylivesignature.com/54489/90/9BDED6A68E44EABB6BEE07C42776D009.png" style="background: transparent; border: 0 !important;" /></a>Jen F.http://www.blogger.com/profile/13484738281792232215noreply@blogger.com6tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8657957206567003646.post-64940920988028879212013-07-24T09:42:00.000-04:002013-07-24T09:43:35.063-04:00May the good Lord be with you...<br />
...down every road you roam<br />
And may sunshine and happiness surround you when you're far from home<br />
And may you grow to be proud, dignified and true<br />
And do unto others as you'd have done to you<br />
Be courageous and be brave<br />
And in my heart you'll always stay<br />
Forever young, Forever young<br />
<br />
-Rod Stewart, <i>Forever Young</i><br />
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While the blog has become far less of a milestone marker lately, I couldn't let this one go by. <br />
<strong><span style="font-size: large;">My baby boy is headed off to Kindergarten.</span></strong> <br />
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(photo from Jay's preschool end of year celebration)</div>
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I mean, are you serious?! Can someone please tell me how we got from the tiny baby who made me a mom to this big kid? (Oh wait. He was not ever a "tiny baby." He was a 10 lb 4 oz monster who appeared to be a 3 month old from the day he took his first breath. But I digress.) Kindergarten here we come.<br />
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(Yes, I look at Pinterest too much. But I couldn't resist making the sign!)<br />
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"I want my picture taken, and I want a new backpack too!"</div>
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"Okay, the picture will do."</div>
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I am trying not to get too sappy about this transition. Yes, this is a struggle for me, given my tendency to cry at even the lamest Hallmark commercial. I have enough sappiness in my life, and it's not like this is going to be all that different for him. He's been in full-time childcare since he was an infant, so he's used to being away from home for much of his days. I'm certainly I am no stranger to trusting others to care for him, teach him cool stuff, or watch as he learns new things. On an intellectual level, this should really be no different than changing schools.<br />
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But it's not, somehow. It's SCHOOL. It's the start of many years in the formal education system. And if he takes after his daddy, perhaps many, many, many, many, many, many, many, many years - like 31 more. (Son, here's a hint. Academic veterinary medicine is a lovely career, but you'd best love school if you want to follow in those footsteps. And you might want to find a <i><b>very </b></i>patient spouse who is willing to support you in those PhD years.) <br />
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Rockin' out to "We Are Young" on air guitar on the way to school.</div>
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How he would handle drop off on the first day was a little questionable ... he is simultaneously THRILLED to be headed to Kindergarten, and scared out of his mind. I get that. I spend much of my life in that thrilled-scared state. He freaked out at Meet the Teacher day, but today he walked in like a champ, as if he'd been there for years. He immediately found a table of fellow Wolfpack loving friends. It's gonna be a good school! <br />
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And old pro.</div>
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Making new friends before the bell even rings.</div>
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<i>And just for the record, I did not cry a single tear. Go me.</i><br />
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Working in education, I know that getting started on the right foot will have long lasting implications for this academic adventure he's embarking on. I want him to love school, to love reading and writing, to love learning. But more than that, I want him to learn to thrive in this crazy world - to make friends, to respect the wisdom of teachers, to get along with those who are different. That whole "everything I need to know in life I learned in Kindergarten" stuff. Oh, and to tie his shoes. We gotta get on that one, like yesterday.<br />
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Follow the footprints!</div>
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And of course, I can't help but think about the hurdles he's overcome - the miracle we witnessed - that got him to this point. An hour and a half of CPR, a week on total life support, infections and setbacks aplenty - all with no brain damage. I'm planning to send the folks at CHOP a card to say thanks, yet again. I hope it serves as a reminder to them that <i>this </i>is the reason that middle-of-the-night ECMO calls are worth it. It's been almost exactly 3 years since that awful, life-changing night, and all of us are grateful that he is able to live,<i> fully live</i>, a regular 5 year old life today.<br />
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It's gonna be a very good year.</div>
<br />
<a href="http://www.mylivesignature.com/" target="_blank"><img src="http://signatures.mylivesignature.com/54489/90/9BDED6A68E44EABB6BEE07C42776D009.png" style="background: transparent; border: 0 !important;" /></a>Jen F.http://www.blogger.com/profile/13484738281792232215noreply@blogger.com6tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8657957206567003646.post-32834037844076341072013-01-03T12:57:00.002-05:002013-01-03T12:57:19.363-05:00I think I'll go to Boston......I think that I'm just tired<br />
I think I need a new town<br />
to leave this all behind<br />
I think I need a sunrise<br />
I'm tired of the sunset<br />
I hear it's nice in the summer<br />
Some snow would be nice<br />
-Augustana, <i>Boston</i><br />
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Happy 2013, my friends. It's that time when everybody is claiming to change their lives, refocus on what matters, get organized, get healthy, save some cash, become kinder, give more, be something else. Bloggers all over the interwebs are choosing their word of the year, and I'm abstaining from that. Too trendy. (Oh Puhleaze - y'all know I'm as much a sucker for trendy as anyone. I just couldn't think of a good word.) <br />
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Instead I share this fantastic song from Augustana (listen <a href="http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=4ASJBXu8tNo">here</a>) about needing a fresh start. Boy do I need that as much as anyone. I was quite happy to see 2012 glide into the rearview mirror. Here's to a fresh start in 2013.<br />
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But actually this song works even better because we just got back from a grown ups only New Year's trip to Boston where I got to see dear friends (who both happen to be friends of the blog as well!). Yes, you read that right - Super Derek and I got a whole weekend away from the boys, complete with a little black dress-worthy event for NYE. Yeehaw!<br />
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Spent most of the weekend alternating between the following statements: <br />
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"Wow! That's cool. Hold up, let me take a picture."</div>
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or</div>
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"Damn, it's cold. There's a coffee shop. Let's go drink coffee while we thaw out."</div>
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We spent some great time with my friend BG, meeting her hubs, drinking their homemade brew (which was fantastic!) learning about Boston, and enjoying their hospitality. We had a minor adventure finding them in the first place - we attempted to meet at our hotel, in a sports shop, in one restaurant that was closed, AND in another restaurant that (surprise!) was closed. Thank heaven for cell phones. It was a comedy of errors, which would have been far more funny if we weren't facing gale force winds while wandering the streets of downtown Boston. But we found each other and found good eats, so all was good in the end. BG has been my tour guide/host on quite a few Boston trips, and it's always great to catch up. It's good to spend time with people who knew you in your dorkiest middle school phase and still like you today. <br />
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Then for the main event - the New Year's Eve wedding of my college friend KHC. In all honesty, New Year's is usually not a holiday I get too excited about. Watching cold drunk people standing in a very crowded Times Square for hours, my practical side always peeks through (see dork reference above). I spend the whole time thinking about how miserable they must be. And how surely they have to pee. Then people get all fake and start shouting "Yippee! A new year!" and kissing everyone in sight ... the whole concept feels phony, like everyone is happy because they are supposed to be. <br />
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But this time, we got to play dress up for real - fancy attire, red sparkle pedicure, champagne, the whole shebang. And it was super fun. It was one of those weddings where we didn't know many other people there, but were seated at a table with folks that turned out to be lots of fun to get to know. The rooftop ballroom was gorgeous beyond description - and being the moron that I am, I even stepped outside to check out the rooftop view of the city. Took me a good 30 mins to thaw back out after that. Boston weather is <i><b>cold</b></i>, people! See how pretty it was?!<br />
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I spent a huge portion of the weekend playing with my camera, and I was probably a little obnoxious taking pictures of everything in sight. But it was all worth it for this little series of dance moves of our tablemates:</div>
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<i>love how E is demanding he show off...</i></div>
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<i>and he does.</i></div>
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See! Told ya we got put at the awesome table! I gotta admit - this dude was the last person I expected to be able to dance like that. But he was fantastic and it was a hoot to watch him - even more, it was awesome to watch the crowd react to him. He had a great way of getting folks into the celebration.</div>
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<i>Wolfpack in the House!</i></div>
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And while it was wonderful to spend some time with old friends I don't see often, it was even more wonderful to spend <b><i>real </i></b>time with the hubs that I see every day. It was a luxury to be together for two whole days with nothing to do but enjoy each other's company. We danced, we laughed, we kissed at midnight, we toasted the happy couple and drank to the start of new things in 2013. May this year be filled with new and beautiful things for each of us.<br />
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<a href="http://www.mylivesignature.com/" target="_blank"><img src="http://signatures.mylivesignature.com/54489/90/9BDED6A68E44EABB6BEE07C42776D009.png" style="background: transparent; border: 0 !important;" /></a>Jen F.http://www.blogger.com/profile/13484738281792232215noreply@blogger.com11tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8657957206567003646.post-63031947576826415402012-11-21T12:54:00.000-05:002012-11-21T12:54:07.307-05:00There's a song in every silence......seeking word and melody<br />
There's a dawn in every darkness bringing hope to you and me<br />
From the past will come the future, what it holds a mystery<br />
Unrevealed until its season, something God alone can see.<br />
-Natalee Sleeth, <i>Hymn of Promise</i><br />
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Hey y'all.<br />
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It's been a very long time. So long, in fact, that I really don't know where to start. There's no instruction manual on how to re-start a blog after many months of silence. (Yes, I googled.) During the initial week of outdoor swim practice, I was always the knobby-kneed scrawny kid who took 10 minutes to get all the way wet, shivering through the first half of the workout. But there's no gentle, toe-in-first warm up here in blog-land - either you write something or you don't. Here goes writing.<br />
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The truth is that it has been an intentional silence. I have always poured my soul out here, and I simply haven't been willing to be quite that vulnerable in such a public space. I could pretend that I'm doing fine and post funny stories about my messy house, our epic home improvement failures and adorable yet exasperating kids - and it would all be true. It would be true in the way that what we post on facebook is <i>true</i>, but is a carefully crafted truth. But that would not be authentic and real, and somehow that feels wrong here. Or I could be depressingly honest, and that wouldn't be any fun to read, nor would it be much fun to write. Instead I chose the silence.<br />
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But I've missed writing. There is a song in every silence.<br />
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I feel compelled to write; I want to create something. I want to find the perfect song that touches where my life is at a given moment. I want to use the perfect picture to illustrate my story, my kids' stories. I have more seriously considered writing a book, and maybe someday I will actually do it. (It's tentatively titled "You Picked Your Nose With Your Painty Finger and Now You Have Paint Up Your Nose." Think an editor will go for that? If only it would fit on the spine...) But until I figure out the whole agent/manuscript/editor/publisher gig, I will get back to writing here. It's a start.<br />
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<i>The first step is always the hardest.</i></div>
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But mostly, I missed y'all.<br />
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<br />Jen F.http://www.blogger.com/profile/13484738281792232215noreply@blogger.com9tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8657957206567003646.post-9531456402045053072012-04-28T23:01:00.002-04:002012-04-28T23:01:40.777-04:00From this valley......They say you are going<br />
We will miss your bright eyes and sweet smile<br />
For I know you are taking the sunshine<br />
That has brightened our path for a while<br />
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Come and sit by my side if you love me<br />
Do not hasten to bid me adieu<br />
Just remember the Red River Valley<br />
And the girl who has loved you so true.<br />
-Red River Valley, traditional folk song<br />
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<b></b>This post has been rolling around in my head (and my slowly-breaking heart) for a while now. Not a bit easier to write than it was to let it swirl through my jumbled mind.
My mom is dying. We have all known this for a many months, but I could know it for a hundred years and not be ready.<br />
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Most of you who know me in real life know that mom was placed under Hospice care in January. While that was an incredibly difficult step, it's just so hard watching as she continues to get weaker and weaker. She is so tired - so tired of the fight, so tired of keeping up the positive outlook, so physically tired. Seeing her go through this is the hardest thing I've ever done. And honestly, I've seen a lifetime's worth of hard things in the last 5 years. I've seen my son go through two open heart surgeries and watched as he spent a week on life support. I've said goodbye to my home and everyone I knew to move across the country. I've lost the grandparents who shaped my life and my faith, my understanding of what family means. And still, preparing to lose my mom is harder for me. <br />
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I am afraid to try and explain how close my mom and I have been because words can't do justice to our amazingly special relationship. She has taught me how to get through those hard times and has held my hand on the toughest days. She's given me the "suck it up" speech when I needed it and been patient and understanding when I needed that. We've shared work life and silly inside jokes. We've shared a love for writing and a hard core shoe-shopping addiction. I cannot imagine the future without her here with us. With me.<br />
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This week has been full of the highest emotional highs and the lowest of lows. Derek and I both had the biggest events of our respective careers on back to back days, and now coming back to earth is proving difficult. I'll share the highs soon - it's good stuff! - but right now I am feeling pretty beaten down by life, worn out from the roller coaster. I am so glad she was able to hear about Derek finishing his PhD and my successful graduation gala with some of the most influential people at the University. She is incredibly proud of each of our successes. I want to focus on gratitude for her being here to experience these things, but it's tempered with disappointment that she is so weary she can hardly stay awake to hear about them.<br />
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This is not how I had planned my life to be, and I am still waiting to wake up and have things the way I envisioned them.<br />
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Last summer she made me promise that I would not dwell in sadness but would be grateful for the closeness we have shared and the incredible blessing we have had in an amazing mother-daughter relationship. I totally lied. (Sorry, Mama!) Tonight, I'm having a hard time with the whole grateful business because I'm too busy being brokenhearted. <br />
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I love you the best, Mom. I am not ready to say goodbye. I don't know when that goodbye is going to be - but even if it's a year from now, I will not be ready. <br />
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<img src="http://signatures.mylivesignature.com/54489/90/9BDED6A68E44EABB6BEE07C42776D009.png" />Jen F.http://www.blogger.com/profile/13484738281792232215noreply@blogger.com7tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8657957206567003646.post-6736293809114668302012-03-19T23:43:00.000-04:002012-03-19T23:43:02.371-04:00You can't judge an apple by looking at a tree......You can't judge honey by looking at the bee<br />
You can't judge a daughter by looking at the mother<br />
You can't judge a book by looking at the cover<br />
-Bo Diddley, "You Can't Judge a Book by the Cover"<br />
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Upon retrieving the kiddos from school this afternoon, I found this in Jay's artwork folder:<br />
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They have been growing lima beans in a variety of ways - some in the old paper towel/ziploc bag taped to the window experiment, some in the sensory table in actual dirt, and then some outside near the playground. Springtime is a good time for learning about how plants grow and where your food comes from. Thank you, preschool, for teaching him stuff I never, ever, EVER in a million years would have thought to teach.<br />
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So upon seeing the book and his drawings inside, I enthusiastically asked, "Tell me about this book you made!" No response. "Hey Jay!" I tried again. "What are these drawings inside your book?"<br />
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Get ready for it...<br />
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<b>"Oh that's the instruction manual for Daddy's lawnmower."</b><br />
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"Ummmmm????? I thought it was about the lima beans you've been growing at school?" I wondered tentatively.<br />
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"Oh yeah. I guess it's that too. But mostly it's telling Daddy how to use his lawnmower."<br />
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<a href="http://www.mylivesignature.com/" target="_blank"><img src="http://signatures.mylivesignature.com/54489/90/9BDED6A68E44EABB6BEE07C42776D009.png" style="background-attachment: initial; background-clip: initial; background-image: initial; background-origin: initial; background-position: initial initial; background-repeat: initial initial; border-bottom-width: 0px !important; border-color: initial !important; border-image: initial !important; border-left-width: 0px !important; border-right-width: 0px !important; border-style: initial !important; border-top-width: 0px !important;" /></a>Jen F.http://www.blogger.com/profile/13484738281792232215noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8657957206567003646.post-50020031318278248212012-03-06T22:41:00.005-05:002012-03-06T22:41:59.103-05:00You say it's your birthday<span style="background-color: white;"><span style="color: #333333; font-family: arial,sans-serif; font-size: 13px; line-height: 18px; text-align: left;">It's my birthday too, yeah</span><br style="color: #333333; font-family: arial, sans-serif; font-size: 13px; line-height: 18px; text-align: left;" /><span style="color: #333333; font-family: arial,sans-serif; font-size: 13px; line-height: 18px; text-align: left;">They say it's your birthday</span><br style="color: #333333; font-family: arial, sans-serif; font-size: 13px; line-height: 18px; text-align: left;" /><span style="color: #333333; font-family: arial,sans-serif; font-size: 13px; line-height: 18px; text-align: left;">We're gonna have a good time</span><br style="color: #333333; font-family: arial, sans-serif; font-size: 13px; line-height: 18px; text-align: left;" /><span style="color: #333333; font-family: arial,sans-serif; font-size: 13px; line-height: 18px; text-align: left;">I'm glad it's your birthday</span></span><span style="background-color: white; color: #333333; font-family: arial,sans-serif; font-size: 13px; line-height: 18px; text-align: left;"> </span><br />
<span style="background-color: white; color: #333333; font-family: arial,sans-serif; font-size: 13px; line-height: 18px; text-align: left;">Happy birthday to you.</span><br />
<span style="background-color: white; color: #333333; font-family: arial,sans-serif; font-size: 13px; line-height: 18px; text-align: left;">-The Beatles, "Birthday" </span><br />
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One of the joys of having two boys with birthdays only two weeks apart is the opportunity to have a joint party. I know that they won't love the idea for too many more years, but for now they are big fans of shared birthday celebrations. And let me assure you, I am a BIG FAN of the shared birthday.<br />
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First up, Jay's big party with his buddy Sam from school. Sam's mom is my new bestest friend in the whole wide world because she offered to include us in the celebration she was already doing. With all the worry over my mom's declining health, I am just really hesitant to think about anything more than about 3 minutes in advance. Planning a birthday bash and inviting kids to celebrate Jay turning the big oh-4 was just not on the agenda this year. But she turned a celebration for Sam into a double birthday bash, and I am certain that Jay had ten times the fun by having a party with his best bud. We didn't let a little rain slow us down - the kids did their best rock star impressions, played on the playground between showers, and thought that the trek through the words to meet some friendly geese was the highlight of the party. It was great times.<br />
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Making rockstar faces</div>
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Party friends and a little craftiness.</div>
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<i>Sweet - a humongous puddle for jumping! </i></div>
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<i>Oh yeah. My knees are wet. </i></div>
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<i>What's a party without some silly faces?</i></div>
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Enjoying the park </div>
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<i>Birthday Buddies</i></div>
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<i>One VERY happy birthday boy!</i></div>
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Then we had a family celebration to honor Jay and Luke on Sunday evening. We had been envisioning a small, informal, low-key event. Well let me say that my family is all about informal and low-key. But we are not small. Not in any way, shape or form do we know the meaning of small. We're large in number and we are loud! While the chaos of having a multitude of grandparents, aunts and uncles sometimes wears my dear hubby out, it's just what a family gathering is to me. We had pizza and goldfish and good company. We inherited a ball pit and the boys (young and old!) had a blast throwing balls around the back porch. Jay and Luke opened presents, we watched NC State finally win a basketball game, and we laughed. A lot. That is what family gatherings should be.<br />
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<i>Brotherly Love</i></div>
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So, thanks to all those who helped make the double birthday celebrations twice as much fun.<br />
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To Luke - I just cannot believe you are already TWO years old. You're so much fun. That sneaky, "I'm-going-to-get-in-trouble-but-I-don't-care" grin lets you get away with more than you should. It's awfully hard to tell you no when you're so dang cute and laughing about your silly antics. But your enthusiastic bear hugs and sweet kisses are two of my favorite things in the world, and you know just how to use them to say you're sorry. I miss that sweet baby face - and I might just keep rocking you to sleep until you're twelve.<br />
Happy Birthday, wild man.<br />
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To Jay - I am really proud of the little boy you have become. You are so caring and know just how to make those around you feel better. Your teacher says that you "have a mind of your own and you're not afraid to use it!" That makes me laugh, but it's such a perfect description of who you are. I am glad that you know your own heart and that you go after what you want with such gusto. You've taught me a great deal over the past four years, and perhaps the most important lesson is to embrace every day as a gift. I don't want your heart defects or miraculous recovery to define you, but I don't ever want to forget how close we came to losing you. <br />
Happy Birthday, buddy.<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<a href="http://www.mylivesignature.com/" target="_blank"><img src="http://signatures.mylivesignature.com/54489/90/9BDED6A68E44EABB6BEE07C42776D009.png" style="background: transparent; border: 0 !important;" /></a>Jen F.http://www.blogger.com/profile/13484738281792232215noreply@blogger.com7tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8657957206567003646.post-69895581748236794722012-02-14T22:05:00.001-05:002012-02-14T22:05:37.551-05:00and you can take these things to heart...<br />
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you can take these things to heart<br />when the bullets fly, i am on your side<br />yeah you can take these things to heart</div>
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no one's ever gonna love you like i do<br />doesn't matter about the mess you're going through<br />no one's ever gonna love you like i do, like i do, like i do</div>
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you can take these things to heart</div>
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-Kyler England, "<a href="http://soundcloud.com/kylerengland/take-these-things-to-heart">Take These Things to Heart</a>"</div>
<br />
<br />
So I think this is a blogging first - a song by a musician that I really know in real life! (Okay, we're not counting Jay's musical debut of "<a href="http://torquilandcheezedoodle.blogspot.com/2011/06/i-got-my-first-real-six-string.html">I Got a Tomato</a>," though I do know him well, and his performance was certainly as entertaining as any professional musician.) Kyler England is a great singer-songwriter that I first encountered at CoffeeSHAC at NC State, and she's really making a go of it as a professional musician. I love her songs, and of course these particular lyrics really spoke to me as a Heart Mama. Take a listen - I think you'll like her too!<br />
<br />
So, Happy Valentine's Day, my friends. And let me take a moment today to celebrate the end of Congenital Heart Disease Awareness Week. I follow scads of heart mama blogs and they have been filled with stories of folks who have traveled the heart highway. Maybe not always the same path, but we do share each other's hurts in a very real way. Feel free to check out the <a href="http://torquilandcheezedoodle.blogspot.com/p/blogs-with-heart.html">Blogs With Heart</a> section of this page if you're interested in hearing their stories. Or for you Pinterest fans, you can check out the <a href="http://pinterest.com/ruth_h/the-faces-of-chd-congenital-heart-awareness-week-f/">Faces of CHD</a> board and see more than 200 sweet little ones who were born with broken hearts. (You just might recognize a tough little Rocky imitation - Jay was #200 added to the board!)<br />
<br />
I think that Ruth from A Trip to *Holland said it best when she says that "<a href="http://www.atriptoholland.net/2012/02/we-read-to-know-that-we-are-not-alone/">We read to know that we are not alone.</a>" The CHD community has been incredibly supportive of me - in fact, Ruth took the time to email me and let me know much of what we could expect with an artificial mitral valve. She was so encouraging and reassuring as we figured out what it would mean to care for a child on blood thinners. She helped me to see that our life could once again be pretty normal, and I'm incredibly grateful for the support we've had from so many fellow heart moms.<br />
<br />
But I have to admit that I struggle a great deal with the widespread notion that we <b><i>must raise awareness</i></b> of CHD. So many people seem to believe that awareness = more funding = better outcomes for our wee ones. THAT IS SIMPLY NOT THE CASE. Awareness definitely can lead to greater financial support for a cause that's near and dear to my heart (pun intended!). But here's the thing - money doesn't equal lives saved. Research dollars don't necessarily turn into cures or prevention or better detection. They <i>can</i>. But they don't always.<br />
<br />
Case in point - in the last ~25 years, there has been an enormous push to raise awareness of breast cancer. You've all seen it - from the pink ribbons on top of your yogurt to the pink bracelet that I'm wearing right this minute. Pink has become synonymous with breast cancer, and by sporting those pink shoelaces, you're saying proudly that you "support" breast cancer. We're all aware - in fact, many people are so "aware" that they mistakenly believe that breast cancer is the #1 killer of women. (It's heart disease, for the record.) <br />
<br />
But what the heck does that widespread awareness mean in real life? Well, for one thing it means plenty of funds lining the pockets of some prestigious nonprofits. (I'm not <a href="http://www.slate.com/blogs/xx_factor/2012/02/06/what_does_the_susan_g_komen_foundation_actually_do_.html">picking on Komen</a>. Okay, yes I am. They brought in about $400 MILLION in 2010, and 34% of that went to "education." Education is nonprofit speak for raising ever more awareness. And really, we're aware.) But you know what else all this awareness means? Nuthin'. More women are fighting breast cancer than when the pink awareness campaign began. And the outcomes for a woman diagnosed today are essentially no better than they were in the 70's. We're aware, but it sadly has made little difference. The Slate article "Sink Pink" from a couple years back details this issue so clearly - if this post has made you think about the purpose of awareness, take a few minutes to <a href="http://www.slate.com/articles/double_x/doublex/2010/10/sink_pink.html">read it</a>. <br />
<br />
So, what do I want? Well, I do want more folks to know about CHD. Here are some facts:<br />
<br />
<ul>
<li> <span style="font-family: Times, 'Times New Roman', serif;">Approximately 1 in 100 babies are born with congenital heart disease - it's the most common birth defect. </span></li>
<li><span style="font-family: Times, 'Times New Roman', serif;">CHD is the leading cause of infant death in the US.</span></li>
<li><span style="background-color: white;"><span style="font-family: Times, 'Times New Roman', serif;">In the United States, twice as many children die from congenital heart defects each year than from all forms of childhood cancer combined, yet funding for pediatric cancer research is five times higher than funding for CHD. </span></span>
</li>
</ul>
<br />
But, as I said before, awareness is meaningless without a purpose. So I want awareness with action, and here's the action I'm focusing my energy on right now: <i><b>I want mandatory pulse oximetry screening for every newborn in the United States.</b></i> I've talked about this before, and we've come a very long way since my last comments. Many states are making it part of the standard newborn screening panel, and that's a huge victory. Jay was lucky - his heart defects were identified before we went home. Many families are not so lucky. Pulse Ox testing is simple, inexpensive, non-invasive, and uses equipment that hospitals already have. Every newborn has a hearing screen, yet CHD is far more common than congenital hearing loss. Let's work together to ensure that we give these 1 in 100 the best chance of a successful outcome.<br />
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<a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-ypIWxtXaRIs/Tzse5dkuyOI/AAAAAAAABtA/szz1lWXC5c8/s1600/P1030051.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-ypIWxtXaRIs/Tzse5dkuyOI/AAAAAAAABtA/szz1lWXC5c8/s320/P1030051.JPG" width="320" /></a></div>
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<i>(The Valentine's Day card Jay made for his awesome cardiologist. </i></div>
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<i>We love you, Dr. M!)</i></div>
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So, Happy Valentine's Day to you. As you see hearts everywhere, remember the little hearts and those who are fighting right now for their lives. And most of all, may you know that you're loved today and every day!<br />
<br />
<a href="http://www.mylivesignature.com/" target="_blank"><img src="http://signatures.mylivesignature.com/54489/90/9BDED6A68E44EABB6BEE07C42776D009.png" style="background: transparent; border: 0 !important;" /></a>Jen F.http://www.blogger.com/profile/13484738281792232215noreply@blogger.com5tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8657957206567003646.post-22461052536861815832012-01-31T21:15:00.001-05:002012-01-31T22:29:35.243-05:00When the walls...<br />
...come tumblin' down<br />
When the walls come crumblin' crumblin'<br />
When the walls come tumblin' tumblin' down.<br />
-John (Cougar) Mellencamp, <i>Crumblin' Down</i><br />
<br />
It's not often that I take vacation on a random Tuesday morning. But it's not too often that this happens next door:<br />
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<a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-O3c6Gfhnu7U/TyihOlmBwtI/AAAAAAAABqk/srJoIWNgSM4/s1600/P1310304.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="300" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-O3c6Gfhnu7U/TyihOlmBwtI/AAAAAAAABqk/srJoIWNgSM4/s400/P1310304.JPG" width="400" /></a></div>
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And it's not too often that you get to see your tool-wielding, construction-loving 3 year old completely utterly transfixed.<br />
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<a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-mEYxj30jUKY/TyijHm0ycmI/AAAAAAAABqs/dHqgi93GlaI/s1600/P1310317.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-mEYxj30jUKY/TyijHm0ycmI/AAAAAAAABqs/dHqgi93GlaI/s320/P1310317.JPG" width="320" /></a></div>
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<i>(Whoa!)</i></div>
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Our neighbors are rebuilding, putting 2 houses on the lot where this sweet little 1950's ranch stood this morning. And I took half a day off just so the little man and I could watch the demolition. And boy did we watch! We parked ourselves in the sunshine of our front yard and watched it come crashing down.<br />
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<a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-ty9XDpxovDk/Tyik2kEuxcI/AAAAAAAABq8/MkQYKtIgxwc/s1600/P1310320.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-ty9XDpxovDk/Tyik2kEuxcI/AAAAAAAABq8/MkQYKtIgxwc/s320/P1310320.JPG" width="320" /></a></div>
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<i> (He would have sat in that spot for HOURS!) </i></div>
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<a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-RnY5LuBKzIg/TyilE2XGPdI/AAAAAAAABrE/KkJdst0Qfdo/s1600/P1310295.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-RnY5LuBKzIg/TyilE2XGPdI/AAAAAAAABrE/KkJdst0Qfdo/s320/P1310295.JPG" width="320" /></a></div>
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<i>(We even recruited LaLa to come over - set her up in a comfy chair </i></div>
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<i>in the yard so that she could join in on the fun, too!)</i></div>
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<a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-rGgSrjHDsUQ/TyirgGRJP8I/AAAAAAAABsM/Bo523q_okKY/s1600/P1310282.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-rGgSrjHDsUQ/TyirgGRJP8I/AAAAAAAABsM/Bo523q_okKY/s320/P1310282.JPG" width="320" /></a></div>
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(<i>The supervisor at work.)</i></div>
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<a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-w-nT3X26sWY/Tyirr1Zuy5I/AAAAAAAABsU/9IRadMm4tYo/s1600/P1310275.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-w-nT3X26sWY/Tyirr1Zuy5I/AAAAAAAABsU/9IRadMm4tYo/s320/P1310275.JPG" width="240" /></a></div>
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<i>(When will you stop with the plants and start working on the HOUSE?!)</i></div>
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<i><br /></i></div>
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I know that normal people use their vacation days to go to the beach or DisneyWorld. But after seeing how excited that little boy was about this house demolition, I am 100% certain that Disney has NOTHING on a construction site, particularly one right next door. He was absolutely enthralled. When it got boring (which eventually it did, even for him!), he started using sticks to "tear down" weeds in the yard. I feel sure the kid will eventually go into construction management or civil engineering, though I'm pretty sure he'd be far more excited to be the guy driving the backhoe. The look on his face was priceless - he was completely in his element. It was one of the most fun days I've had in a very, very long time.</div>
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Things are crazy in my life right now - worrying about my mom, worrying about the future, worrying about what's not getting done, trying to coordinate too much. I've tried mentally blogging about it, but I just can't quite get the words out. Maybe that's because I just don't want the world to know my vulnerabilities. The figurative walls are crumblin' down in my life, and I'm really struggling to keep putting one foot in front of the other. </div>
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So, today was a much needed break - to literally watch some walls tumblin' down. More importantly, I spent the morning doing something just because I wanted to ...completely forgetting about the things I <i>ought</i> to do. </div>
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Good stuff. </div>
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So, I promise to keep you updated on the progress of the new house that gets built next door. Because the pint-size supervisor will demand that we go by to check out the progress every evening from now until they lock the doors and hand it back over to the neighbors.</div>
<br />
<a href="http://www.mylivesignature.com/" target="_blank"><img src="http://signatures.mylivesignature.com/54489/90/9BDED6A68E44EABB6BEE07C42776D009.png" style="background: none repeat scroll 0% 0% transparent; border: 0pt none ! important;" /></a>Jen F.http://www.blogger.com/profile/13484738281792232215noreply@blogger.com10tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8657957206567003646.post-54832982483092524662012-01-04T21:40:00.000-05:002012-01-05T15:51:11.476-05:00She asks me why I'm just a hairy guy...<span style="background-color: white; font-family: Arial, Helvetica, 'Times New Roman'; font-size: 16px;">...I'm hairy noon and night</span><br />
<span style="background-color: white; font-family: Arial, Helvetica, 'Times New Roman'; font-size: 16px;">Hair that's a fright</span><br />
<span style="background-color: white; font-family: Arial, Helvetica, 'Times New Roman'; font-size: 16px;">I'm hairy high and low</span><br />
<span style="background-color: white; font-family: Arial, Helvetica, 'Times New Roman'; font-size: 16px;">Don't ask me why</span><br />
<span style="background-color: white; font-family: Arial, Helvetica, 'Times New Roman'; font-size: 16px;">Don't know</span>
<br />
<span style="background-color: white; font-family: Arial, Helvetica, 'Times New Roman'; font-size: 16px;"><br /></span><br />
<span style="background-color: white; font-family: Arial, Helvetica, 'Times New Roman'; font-size: 16px;">Hair, hair, hair, hair, hair, hair, hair</span><br />
<span style="background-color: white; font-family: Arial, Helvetica, 'Times New Roman'; font-size: 16px;">Flow it, show it</span><br />
<span style="background-color: white; font-family: Arial, Helvetica, 'Times New Roman'; font-size: 16px;">Long as God can grow it</span><br />
<span style="background-color: white; font-family: Arial, Helvetica, 'Times New Roman'; font-size: 16px;">My hair</span>
<br />
<span style="background-color: white; font-family: Arial, Helvetica, 'Times New Roman'; font-size: 16px;">-"Hair" the Musical</span><br />
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Since my sweet Luke grew more hair than the infant peach fuzz he had at birth, he's had crazy hair. It's been that funny, fuzzy, stick-y up in all directions mane that you've come to giggle about. It's tough to describe, but it is certainly something to smile over.</div>
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<a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-OJoUdK5EjU8/TwEVQztKROI/AAAAAAAABpU/0JhZ3z_Ga-E/s1600/P1020078.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-OJoUdK5EjU8/TwEVQztKROI/AAAAAAAABpU/0JhZ3z_Ga-E/s320/P1020078.JPG" width="240" /></a></div>
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New Year's Eve, 2011<br />
Just like Rufio from "Hook" ... perhaps we should go red and black.<br />
Could work for our little Wolfpacker!<br />
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<a href="http://images1.fanpop.com/images/photos/1900000/Rufio-and-Peter-hook-1936624-366-242.gif" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="211" src="http://images1.fanpop.com/images/photos/1900000/Rufio-and-Peter-hook-1936624-366-242.gif" width="320" /></a></div>
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Now, there's plenty of stuff out here on the interwebs that isn't quite what it appears to be. Pictures are cropped and photoshopped until they barely resemble the real life image the camera captured. Not so with these photos, I promise. These are original, untouched craziness. In fact, pictures rarely do justice to the insanity that is dear Luke's hairdo. And there's no static involved. No hair products could do this on purpose. It's 100%, all natural, crazy baby hair.<br />
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<a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-oIs_ludDDtI/TwUk94kMvmI/AAAAAAAABpo/HsU-pHQRW0s/s1600/P1010318.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-oIs_ludDDtI/TwUk94kMvmI/AAAAAAAABpo/HsU-pHQRW0s/s320/P1010318.JPG" width="320" /></a></div>
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<img height="240" src="http://a7.sphotos.ak.fbcdn.net/hphotos-ak-snc4/77166_874617697079_11823419_45800819_6216815_n.jpg" width="320" /> </div>
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I think this was as long as it ever got - Thanksgiving 2010 </div>
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<img height="300" src="http://a4.sphotos.ak.fbcdn.net/hphotos-ak-snc6/180899_904552402689_11823419_46491694_3936396_n.jpg" width="400" /> </div>
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Trimmed up, but crazy as ever - Feb 2011</div>
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<img height="298" src="http://a2.sphotos.ak.fbcdn.net/hphotos-ak-ash4/316765_10100287393942149_11823419_48810034_994834573_n.jpg" width="400" /> </div>
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Even when it's short, it stands straight out from his head - October 2011</div>
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<a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-WFPB6X9TijU/TwUlV4dUzOI/AAAAAAAABpw/kmQJHh9KCHE/s1600/P1010242.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-WFPB6X9TijU/TwUlV4dUzOI/AAAAAAAABpw/kmQJHh9KCHE/s320/P1010242.JPG" width="240" /></a>
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Okay, so hair products were used one time to create his rock star locks for Halloween.</div>
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The front sticks up and forward, the sides go anywhere from straight out to semi-down, but on the crown of his head head, it's skyward, straight up, and sometimes curving up and then back. And for those of you who don't know him in real life, it's touchable. You can rub his head over and over, and it pops right back up. In fact, even after a whole day of wearing a hat, it springs back out - like it's been begging to escape the hat for hours. <br />
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<a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-HQ6tnJSP0dM/TwEU6B9ofOI/AAAAAAAABpE/2kbbqW0kzuQ/s1600/P1020048.JPG" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-HQ6tnJSP0dM/TwEU6B9ofOI/AAAAAAAABpE/2kbbqW0kzuQ/s320/P1020048.JPG" width="320" /></a><br />
This is not nap hair. This is just what it does.</div>
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<a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-eND9SZLtOhg/TwEVImSZ80I/AAAAAAAABpM/k4Fs8NOuX9w/s1600/P1020054.JPG" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-eND9SZLtOhg/TwEVImSZ80I/AAAAAAAABpM/k4Fs8NOuX9w/s320/P1020054.JPG" width="320" /></a></div>
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Sometime in late summer or early fall, I decided that if it could just get enough length, it would become heavy enough to lay down. I committed to letting it grow out until Thanksgiving.<br />
<br />
We started getting more and more comments from random strangers at the
grocery store. "I just LOVE his hair!" I'm not sure whether to believe
them. I think "I just LOVE his hair!" might be code for "OMG why on
earth do you let him leave the house like that?!" It definitely invites
comments. One 9ish year old kid in a restaurant came up to
him, rubbed his head to be sure it really wouldn't lay down, then said "My hair was just like that when I was little!" And I
gotta admit, the boy's hair wasn't too far from that still.<br />
<br />
The other fairly frequent comment that we get is "My (nephew/brother/son/insert-other-semi-distant-relative-here)
had hair JUST like that at his age!!" And my quick response is "So, did he
grow out of it?! Puhleaze tell me he did!" I actually love hearing from those folks, because
most are reassuring that by the time the kid was elementary age, his
hair was pretty much laying down. There's hope right?<br />
<br />
<br />
Now, I will say, that we used some grownup shampoo (it claims to be "smoothing") while we were visiting Derek's mom after Christmas. It came as close to laying down that day as it ever has:<br />
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<img height="240" src="http://a1.sphotos.ak.fbcdn.net/hphotos-ak-snc7/390266_328215613869253_100000424502177_1192732_704144108_n.jpg" width="320" /> </div>
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See! Laying down on top, sticking out only on the sides and back.</div>
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But another wash with baby shampoo, and it's back to it's regular gig of standing on end. We even tried a heavy duty leave in scalp moisturizer/conditioner. If that much grease won't make it lay down, I don't know what will.</div>
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When it wasn't showing any signs of becoming more tame at Thanksgiving, I decided to let it go until Christmas. <br />
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It's a little tough to tell in this pic because he was so squirmy, but his hair is easily 2 inches long. And still standing on end, straight out from his head. On New Year's Eve, I finally gave in and buzzed him again. Short. Sweet. And sticking out in all directions once again.<br />
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But you know what my dear Gabby discovered (via "<a href="http://www.npr.org/2011/12/31/144508663/limericks">Wait Wait ... Don't Tell Me</a>," no less!)? There is an incurable genetic syndrome known as "Uncombable Hair Syndrome." Oh yes.<br />
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<b>Uncombable Hair Syndrome.</b> </div>
The hair shaft has a groove in it that actually prevents it from laying down - the hair is triangular shaped. To save you the effort of Googling it yourself - cause I *know* you were going to! - here are some images borrowed from the web:<br />
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Yep, looks an awful lot like my sweetheart's crazy locks, especially the one at the bottom. Most of the kids in pics have hair that is more kinky - Luke's is actually pretty smooth. So I'm not sure if he'd actually qualify from a diagnostic perspective, but he sure does from a description perspective.<br />
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Uncombable hair. That's my boy.<br />
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<a href="http://www.mylivesignature.com/" target="_blank"><img src="http://signatures.mylivesignature.com/54489/90/9BDED6A68E44EABB6BEE07C42776D009.png" style="background: transparent; border: 0 !important;" /></a>Jen F.http://www.blogger.com/profile/13484738281792232215noreply@blogger.com6tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8657957206567003646.post-38087200339169833682011-12-31T23:12:00.000-05:002012-01-01T15:03:44.487-05:00So rock me mama like a wagon wheel...Rock me mama any way you feel<br />
Hey mama rock me<br />
-Old Crow Medicine Show, "Wagon Wheel"<br />
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Been quite a bloggy absence, eh? (I'm a little frightened to look back at the percentage of my posts that start out with an apology for disappearing from the blogosphere for weeks at a time. Maybe I ought to just embrace the once a month posting, and trust that y'all can sign up for that nifty little email thing at the top right side of this page. You did know about that, right? My blog can automagically send you an email when there's something new! Ahh, technology. I'd post more often, but I have to wait for musical inspiration to strike.)<br />
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And I know that I can't sum up the highs and lows of a month all in one post, so I'll just hit a few highlights, include a few adorable kid pics and trust that y'all will understand.<br />
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We made gingerbread houses. This was one of my fave memories from my childhood. And like every childhood memory, it's far better in my mind and memory than in reality. Reality was that the kids had minimal to zero interest in actually constructing said houses. And honestly, they weren't even that excited about eating the candy (unlike the cat, who promptly began licking the entire thing). What is WRONG with kids these days?!<br />
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<a href="http://joyemullis.blogspot.com/">Joye</a> and I, however, thoroughly enjoyed both the making and the eating. Even more, we enjoyed chatting and allowing the kiddies to play outside on their own. It's good to give them wings.<br />
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I spent lots of good time with my mom. Cancer is an awful, miserable, ugly thing. We've found lots of good times together, in spite of her feeling mighty awful some days. All the more reason to celebrate the good days - and those have been plentiful, too. We even squeezed in some shopping, which was the most fun we'd had together in months.<br />
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I read a book. For the first time in <strike>I'm-embarassed-to-admit-but-probably-several-years</strike> a really long while, I read something that was just for me. Not a textbook. Not a board book or Dr. Seuss book. Not a blog/web article/newspaper but just a good ol' fun reading book. My chosen sister gave me Elizabeth Edwards' "Resilience" and even hinted that I'm a resilient woman. Not sure I deserve that accolade, but I absolutely did deserve a night on the couch under a blanket with a glass of wine in one hand and a book in the other. I will do more of that in 2012. <br />
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After MUCH anticipation, Christmas morning did eventually arrive and we opened presents. Santa was good to us this year, bringing too much stuff (as he tends to do sometimes). Jay got a bike and a much-hoped-for pencil sharpener (what kid asks Santa for a PENCIL SHARPENER?!), Luke got a train set, Jen & Derek got a fridge which came not in the sleigh but in a truck from Lowe's. Everyone was happy with their haul.<br />
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<i>(working away on one of THREE varieties of pencil sharpeners he received!)</i></div>
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more sharpening!</div>
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We went bowling (GO WOLFPACK!!) at the game in Charlotte. We met up with my college roomie and her hubs, as well as one of Derek's best vet school buds. Hanging with people we love and largely have lost touch with - again, something we should do more of in the coming year.<br />
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We went to Derek's hometown and hung out with his family. I stayed up chatting with my sister-in-law-in-law (aka SILIL) until 1:40 a.m., catching up on all the stuff we had missed. We won't let that much time go by again. The kids played happily together though would not consent to looking toward a camera simultaneously. Jay is now the proud owner of a chainsaw. It was good times. <br />
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Mom and I went to meet her namesake, Little Laura. I cried happy tears and fell head over heels in love with that sweet little gal, even if she is a bit of a crybaby. It made me want a baby in the house again. Derek is not *quite* so enthralled with that idea and suggested I travel up to VA to babysit anytime I need my screaming baby fix.<br />
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We watched the acorn drop in downtown Raleigh (for you out-of-towners, Raleigh is the City of Oaks and we do love our acorn/oak tree references.)<br />
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We toasted the start of good things in 2012 (some of us toasted with the good stuff, some of us with cranberry juice, and some of us toasted with marbles from the new game of Hungry Hungry Hippos. Whatever blows your skirt up.)<br />
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So, you're still wondering about the song lyric reference? Derek got an Old Crow Medicine Show CD for Christmas, and the song has been in my head nonstop since. GREAT song and great album for the bluegrass lovers in the crowd. Jay, like his momma, finds a song he likes and wants to hear it over and over and over. (I once made a "mix" tape that consisted of UB40's "Red Red Wine" over and over on one side, and a few other songs on the other. Not much of a mix. But I digress...)<br />
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Anyway, last night Jay wanted to hear "Wagon Wheel" three times in a row, and somewhere in the middle of the third time, we ended up with a family dance party - spinning in crazy circles, singing at the top of our lungs, laughing hysterically, and falling down dizzy. And I couldn't help but think about what a great way it was to end the year, rockin' with my sweet little family.<br />
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So, a belated Merry Christmas from the Foster Four, and Happy New Year! May the coming year bring you nothing but health and happiness and love. Most of all, may you spend 2012 with those in your life that matter. Know that each of you reading this matters to me!<br />
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<img src="http://signatures.mylivesignature.com/54489/90/9BDED6A68E44EABB6BEE07C42776D009.png" style="background: none repeat scroll 0% 0% transparent; border: 0pt none ! important;" /><br />
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<br />Jen F.http://www.blogger.com/profile/13484738281792232215noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8657957206567003646.post-22091717687063243322011-12-04T22:27:00.001-05:002011-12-04T23:32:32.746-05:00Radiant beams from thy holy face......with the dawn of redeeming grace<br />
-Silent Night, Traditional Christmas Carol<br />
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Sorry for the blogging absence. The week before Thanksgiving was mighty crappy with my mom in the hospital and me hating every moment of that experience. I just haven't felt much like writing, save for one whiny, half-written diatribe about how much I hate hospitals and the smell of Purell hand sanitizer (PTSD anyone?!). No need to post whiny-ness so that's still in drafts where it belongs.<br />
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Thank you to all of you who have prayed for my mom and for me and for her being home for Thanksgiving and for answers and for sanity and all of the other things we've managed to hang onto. I could not do this alone.<br />
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But even with all the support, I've been fighting crabbiness and bah-humbug-ness. I just haven't wanted to welcome Christmas and definitely haven't much focused on the reason for the celebration. We put up our tree, and that cheered me a bit. There was no perfect hot chocolate-sipping, fireplace-gazing, angel-on-top moment. There were more than a few "Be <b>careful</b>! That's fragile! Crack." moments. But the tree is up and pretty. I'm trying to embrace the good enough mentality. Perfection is boring.<br />
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We made an advent wreath (hey, it's only a week late! Gimme a break!) from the greenery in our yard and Christmas tree trim offs. I laughed at Jay calling it "scenery" instead of greenery, but even that didn't do much to ease the funk. I got fun and funky snowflakes on my fingernails (Rock on, Michelle!) but the 63 degree weather still made me feel un-Christmasy.<br />
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Until tonight.<br />
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Both boys dressed in their Christmas finest for church this morning. I mean, if you're ever going to wear a size 4T navy blazer, Christmastime is it, right?<br />
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Undecorating the tree (or is that rearranging the ornaments?)</div>
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I might cut off his toes when he outgrows the saddle oxfords. Adorable!</div>
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He's not keen on this photo op - every photo delays lunch by another 1/16 of a second.</div>
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What a little grownup!</div>
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I can't decide whose outfit I like better - the smocked romper or the blue blazer!</div>
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Such cuteness. Cute boys + long naps = happier mama. </div>
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Then tonight we headed to our church's annual Hanging of the Greens service. Adorable kids singing and awe-inspiring music and candles. I can't describe the emotion it brings out. I absolutely love every moment ... but I will always remember this moment:</div>
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That, for me, was Christmas. Forget presents. Forget shopping. Forget the wrangling and convincing it took to get them to wear the adorable Christmas outfits. Forget all of it. Christmas is right here. I am reminded again what a miracle it is to have that little boy here with us and fully alive.</div>
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Everywhere, everywhere Christmas tonight.</div>
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<a href="http://www.mylivesignature.com/" target="_blank"><img src="http://signatures.mylivesignature.com/54489/90/9BDED6A68E44EABB6BEE07C42776D009.png" style="background: transparent; border: 0 !important;" /></a><br />
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(PS - Great big thanks to my dad for snapping those cellphone shots - I *love* them! So glad mom was up for the occasion so y'all could join in the fun.)Jen F.http://www.blogger.com/profile/13484738281792232215noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8657957206567003646.post-57455679793382900212011-11-07T22:20:00.000-05:002011-11-07T22:20:08.910-05:00Yesterday......all my troubles seemed so far away<br />
Now it looks as though they're here to stay<br />
Oh I believe in yesterday<br />
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Suddenly, I'm not half the man I used to be<br />
There's a shadow hanging over me<br />
Oh yesterday came suddenly<br />
-The Beatles, "Yesterday"<br />
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Many of you have already heard about the shadow that's hanging over me.<br />
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My mom, Laura McLean - or LaLa to her grandbabes, was diagnosed with breast cancer five years ago. To say that the past few years have been crazy doesn't begin to do justice to the emotional roller coaster we've been riding. Really, having 2 kids is plenty life-changing. I've watched 2 kids arrive, held hands through Jay's 2 heart surgeries, and watched my mom endure countless rounds of chemo, a couple of hits of radiation, 2 brain tumor surgeries and some crazy nanoparticle liver treatment. Yeah. Call me stressed. Or call me really, really, really bad luck to people who love me. Y'all might want to keep your distance.<br />
<br />
Anyway, mom got some more bad news on Friday that even my weak attempts at corny humor can't gloss over. She's got a lot of additional tumors in her brain, and there really aren't many options left. She can do whole brain radiation, but that comes with some miserable cognitive side effects like trouble making decisions or following the steps of a process. Or she can stop treatment and risk seizures and difficulty with balance and movement. <br />
<br />
Where is option F - None of the Above? No one should have to make these choices. No one should have to make them over and over for 5 years straight. Life is hard, but this is impossibly hard. And while I know that death is a part of life that we all deal with, I still have no idea how to wrap my mind around what is happening - around the idea that we're going to lose her before we're ready.<br />
<br />
The thing is, we've gotten bad news before - over the past 5 years, we've heard rotten reports so many times. <br />
<br />
It's cancer? "Wow. I really don't know what to say."<br />
<br />
It's spread to your bones? "Oh, that's awful. I wish I had the right words."<br />
<br />
It's spread to your liver? And your brain?! "Oh my God. I'm speechless. I have no words."<br />
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And now, it's spread to your brain and there's nothing good they can do about it? <br />
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You'd think that I'd be getting better at this by now, that I'd have a clue about how to react or what to say. You'd think I could pull out some words that had comforted in the past. That all of us would be ready for our reactions. But practice absolutely does NOT make perfect. I'm as clueless and dumbfounded and angry and sad and confused and all of the above as I ever was. I'm just as lost as I was each of the times before.<br />
<br />
<br />
And yet...<br />
<br />
I have a fabulous husband who is a partner in every sense of the word.<br />
I have two beautiful children. They are healthy today, thanks to an incredible miracle I was privileged to witness.<br />
I have girlfriends who are like sisters. And they will wipe my tears. They bring milkshakes and hot chocolate and warm blankets of hugs. They assure me that my crazy thoughts don't mean I'm crazy.<br />
I have a huge extended family of amazing people that make me laugh. We will hold each other up when the going gets tough. We eat together and we laugh together, and that's how we get through both good and bad.<br />
I have a church family that is supportive and loving and has showed me how the love of God really works - in the way they love others.<br />
I have a great job that is fulfilling and meaningful and makes a difference to others. It surrounds me daily with colleagues who are like family, and they help sustain me.<br />
I have a warm house and a car to drive and plenty to eat and clothes to wear and everything I really need. Everything.<br />
Most of all, I have had an incredibly close relationship with my mom, and I've been blessed with learning from her. I have seen an incredible example of how to face scary things, how to love people around you, how to smile in spite of the toughest of circumstances.<br />
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<i>I have so much to be thankful for. </i><br />
<br />
So mom - look at me! I am taking your sunshiney attitude and stealing a few rays. (You've still got plenty.) I wish I knew what to say. I love you. I hate that you're having to make these impossible choices. I hate that you're going to feel pain. I hate the mere <i>idea </i>of living without you and your never ceasing positive attitude. I will hate the reality of it far worse. But I am trying to focus on the present - that I have you today. I love you. And I am incredibly grateful for all that you've taught me.<br />
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<i>LaLa and Luke, March 2010</i></div>
<br />
<a href="http://www.mylivesignature.com/" target="_blank"><img src="http://signatures.mylivesignature.com/54489/90/9BDED6A68E44EABB6BEE07C42776D009.png" style="background: transparent; border: 0 !important;" /></a>Jen F.http://www.blogger.com/profile/13484738281792232215noreply@blogger.com6tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8657957206567003646.post-55211672469051124162011-11-02T22:03:00.000-04:002011-11-02T22:03:13.033-04:00Listening and dancing to music...... is AWESOME!!!<br />
-Super Music Friends Show, Yo Gabba Gabba<br />
<br />
We'd been anticipating the night for many months, and last night was the big event. <br />
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I realize that people generally fall into two camps when it comes to this show: love it or hate it. That's cool. I don't love the same music or movies or children's programming that you love. Haters - feel free to ignore this post, and definitely feel free to keep comments to yourself. But as for me and my family, we LOVE Yo Gabba Gabba.<br />
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Once upon a time, our little guy was pretty sick. He got pneumonia 5 times in as many months. We didn't know it at the time, but he was in congestive heart failure because his mitral valve was so badly functioning that fluid was backing up into his lungs. To open his lungs a bit and help him breathe, he had to do a nebulizer treatment every night.<br />
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Ever tried to make a two year old sit still for 30 minutes and breathe scary-looking, funny-smelling smoke? Yeah, me neither. He fought the treatments like crazy, and I didn't have a clue how to get him to settle down. So this anti-TV mama resorted to the one thing I knew had a fighting chance of keeping him still for that long. Television. And all he wanted to watch was Yo Gabba Gabba. So we watched. Every night. And he'd sing along through that blasted fish mask.<br />
<br />
<br />
In a really interesting coincidence, I learned about another little girl named Davy who also has Congenital Heart Disease (among a number of other congenital issues). Her mom writes an uber-cool blog, <a href="http://ruthschultz.blogspot.com/">the mom</a>, and I got hooked. Know who the mom is married to? None other than Scott Schultz, co-creator of YGG. Yep, the guy who comes up with the creatively awesome ideas for this show has watched his little girl endure heart surgery and weeks in the hospital and medical procedures galore. <br />
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<br />
Then, in August 2010, we went to Philadelphia for his open heart surgery at CHOP. And as soon as we got there, we saw an ad in the airport for the YGG Live tour. Jay was SUPER excited to see the Gabba friends welcome him to the airport. We'd planned for 2 weeks in the hospital, and the show was scheduled to be in Philly a week later. We were hopeful that we'd be back home and into regular life by then. Of course long time readers will remember that he was <a href="http://torquilandcheezedoodle.blogspot.com/2011/08/someone-saved-my-life-tonight.html">still in ICU</a> at that point, and home was still many, many weeks away - with "regular life" many months behind that. <br />
<br />
So when the chance came along to see them in Raleigh, we jumped. (We didn't jump for the $117 dress circle tickets, but the view is lovely from the back row, too.) When the Gabba friends came on stage and I saw the ecstatic look in that little boy's face, I gotta admit, it got me. There were tears rolling down my face. We joked in Philly that he had complications intentionally, just so that we'd still be there and he could see the show. But the truth is that I feared he'd never live to see Yo Gabba Gabba in person. Or that he'd have endured so much time without oxygen that he'd be in a wheelchair, or unable to express himself through language, or any of the other millions of debilitating, life-altering issues that could have happened so easily. <br />
<br />
But last night, this boy was fully and completely alive - in every sense of the word.<br />
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<a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-iTm4_fRr0ag/TrHuFMp4chI/AAAAAAAABHk/WbU8Uh5ZN7w/s1600/yggjayclap.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em; text-align: center;"><img border="0" height="320" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-iTm4_fRr0ag/TrHuFMp4chI/AAAAAAAABHk/WbU8Uh5ZN7w/s320/yggjayclap.JPG" width="240" /></a><br />
He clapped.<br />
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<a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-lmEXeXPc4Pg/TrHuTQnCCvI/AAAAAAAABH0/1mdgWOmI8es/s1600/yggjayhug.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em; text-align: center;"><img border="0" height="320" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-lmEXeXPc4Pg/TrHuTQnCCvI/AAAAAAAABH0/1mdgWOmI8es/s320/yggjayhug.JPG" width="240" /></a><br />
He hugged himself.<br />
You put your arms out wide, wrap 'em around, squeeze tight!<br />
Hugs are fun - Hugs are fun - Hugs are fun!<br />
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He danced during Dancey Dance time.<br />
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<a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-abUotpMXiAw/TrHuagNKmnI/AAAAAAAABH8/kOF53OEEZDI/s1600/yggwave.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em; text-align: center;"><img border="0" height="240" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-abUotpMXiAw/TrHuagNKmnI/AAAAAAAABH8/kOF53OEEZDI/s320/yggwave.JPG" width="320" /></a><br />
He was, in a word, enthralled. Completely focused on those silly-looking, lovable creatures.<br />
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But he wasn't the only one! Oh no. Derek, Luke and I had every bit as much fun as Jay did. Luke sat in his seat and clapped enthusiastically at the end of every song, even standing in front of his seat to dance. <br />
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And when Biz Markie came out (oh yes - THAT Biz Markie!) and started teaching the kids beatboxing for Biz' Beat of the Day, Derek and I were like "Is this for realz?!" Oh yeah. Loved every minute.<br />
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<a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-t_1e3UAIE2E/TrHtqadQzMI/AAAAAAAABG8/3wBz5FoF6Ns/s1600/yggbiz.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em; text-align: center;"><img border="0" height="240" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-t_1e3UAIE2E/TrHtqadQzMI/AAAAAAAABG8/3wBz5FoF6Ns/s320/yggbiz.JPG" width="320" /></a></div>
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After the show, we had to check out all the confetti and paper leaves that came down.<br />
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<a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-GAiMgg7QeXU/TrHt3PxPcMI/AAAAAAAABHU/tQWtiiK8mZk/s1600/yggconfetti3.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em; text-align: center;"><img border="0" height="240" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-GAiMgg7QeXU/TrHt3PxPcMI/AAAAAAAABHU/tQWtiiK8mZk/s320/yggconfetti3.JPG" width="320" /></a> <a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-lTLf3rCbQR8/TrHttEgkkjI/AAAAAAAABHE/UQl2fyTv22k/s1600/yggconfetti.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em; text-align: center;"><img border="0" height="320" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-lTLf3rCbQR8/TrHttEgkkjI/AAAAAAAABHE/UQl2fyTv22k/s320/yggconfetti.JPG" width="213" /></a><br />
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<a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-qB1TLrmy05w/TrHtwIQz5GI/AAAAAAAABHM/OJJHEXkdq1I/s1600/yggconfetti2.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em; text-align: center;"><img border="0" height="320" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-qB1TLrmy05w/TrHtwIQz5GI/AAAAAAAABHM/OJJHEXkdq1I/s320/yggconfetti2.JPG" width="212" /></a><br />
Yeah, it was THAT fun.<br />
<br />
<a href="http://www.mylivesignature.com/" target="_blank"><img src="http://signatures.mylivesignature.com/54489/90/9BDED6A68E44EABB6BEE07C42776D009.png" style="background: transparent; border: 0 !important;" /></a>Jen F.http://www.blogger.com/profile/13484738281792232215noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8657957206567003646.post-71914333310143108322011-10-31T21:48:00.001-04:002011-10-31T22:19:30.821-04:00You better watch out...You better not cry<br />
You better not pout<br />
I'm tellin' you why<br />
Santa Claus is Coming to Town!<br />
<br />
Somewhere during the hottest part of the summer, my incredibly creative 3 year old was asked what he wanted to be for Halloween. He promptly and enthusiastically replied "Santa Claus!" <br />
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I'm thinking, "This is going to be a very bad idea. Somewhere in middle school, the kids will hear about this, and he'll never live it down." Derek, meanwhile, is thinking "<b><i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;">AWESOME</span></i></b>!" <br />
We let it go for a while, thinking he'd change his mind. Nope. Santa. Every time. Derek asked his facebook friends whether this was a good idea. As the only dissenting opinion, I was overruled, and the Christmas-o-ween was born.<br />
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Ho Ho Ho! Happy Halloween!</div>
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But since we agreed that Jay could be Santa, we decided to go all the way. Because really, how many years can you do a family theme costume? The days are long, but the years are short. So Luke became an elf, and Derek and I became the reindeer. I'm going with Vixen, just so it sounds like I was something cool for Halloween. Dear Hubby was Rudolph, complete with flashing red nose (thank you dollar spot!).</div>
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(Luke was NOT a fan of the elf hat!)</div>
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(Okay, I have to admit. It was a cute idea. And he was an adorable Santa.)</div>
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Look! It's Sush! She'll <a href="http://sush-firstdonoharm.blogspot.com/">do us no harm</a> on Halloween!</div>
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And Miss Sue! She always has special candy for her special elves.</div>
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What's an elf outfit without the elf slippers?</div>
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I waited until the VERY last minute to make the costumes, thinking the kid would change his mind. He didn't. I went shopping on Friday (THREE days prior to the holiday, mind you!) and when I picked him up that afternoon, I excitedly told him that I'd found the stuff to make his costume. His reply?</div>
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"I changed my mind. I want to be something else for Halloween."</div>
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Oh no you don't, kid. Not after I drug your LaLa to 15 different discount stores searching for a red sweatsuit, you don't! Not after we bought a cheap tree skirt to make the fur collar and cuffs! I got a red flashing nose for your daddy! You ARE going to be Santa, you little stinker! </div>
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But after seeing it, he came around again, and was pretty excited about it. And while I was definitely not in favor of this idea in the first place, I gotta admit. I came around too. It was seriously cute, and really fun for the whole family to dress up together.</div>
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Merry Halloween from the Foster Four!</div>
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<a href="http://www.mylivesignature.com/" target="_blank"><img src="http://signatures.mylivesignature.com/54489/90/9BDED6A68E44EABB6BEE07C42776D009.png" style="background-attachment: initial; background-clip: initial; background-color: transparent; background-image: initial; background-origin: initial; background-position: initial initial; background-repeat: initial initial; border-bottom-width: 0px !important; border-color: initial !important; border-left-width: 0px !important; border-right-width: 0px !important; border-style: initial !important; border-top-width: 0px !important;" /></a>Jen F.http://www.blogger.com/profile/13484738281792232215noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8657957206567003646.post-53763496156387078882011-10-28T12:18:00.002-04:002011-10-28T12:18:38.679-04:00Wild night......is calling<br />
-Van Morrison, "Wild Night"<br />
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Sweet Luke, who has been generous enough to sleep through the night for many, many months, has a little cough. And it's enough of a little cough to wake him up in a big way. So last night, he woke up numerous times and needed a little parental intervention to settle himself again.<br />
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First, this needs a little backstory. When the boys were babies, we made what we believe to be a very wise decision by putting a single bed in each of their rooms alongside the crib. These beds, which were actually 2 parts of a trundle bed, were great places to snuggle and read stories, great places for Granna to sleep when she came to town, and most importantly, great places for mom or dad to crash on particularly rough nights. It worked really well for us.<br />
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But recently, Jay decided that he wanted to start sleeping with Luke. We thought it quite adorable and they shared a room very nicely, happily chatting to each other every morning. Good roommating is important because if we ever decide to have another wee one, sharing a room will become a necessity for the fellas as our house only has 3 bedrooms. They were so happy together, in fact, that we moved Jay's toddler bed into Luke's room and put the trundle back together in the room formerly known as Jay's. It made for much more space in each room. This worked swimmingly until the grandparents came to stay a couple of weeks ago. Jay wasn't about to let the chance to share a room with grandfolks pass him by, so he moved back into his old room on the trundle - and hasn't looked back. He's stayed in the big boy bed.<br />
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So, last night when Luke woke up for the third time at 4:00 a.m., I mumbled sleepily that I'd just stay in his room after I got him settled. I had forgotten a critical piece of information - the only available bed in there is Jay's toddler bed. But honestly, I was so tired I didn't care. I re-settled the Lukester and curled up on Jay's tiny old bed.<br />
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"Not too bad, actually!" was the thought that crossed my mind as I drifted back off. "Kinda like sleeping curled up on the couch," something I've done by choice, over and over.<br />
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At around 4:45 a.m., however, I began to realize that it wasn't *quite* as comfy as our couch. All the baby books suggest you purchase a nice, FIRM mattress to minimize risk of SIDS. We shopped well, my friends. It's certainly a nice, firm mattress. And while it might be the width of the couch, there ain't no stretching out or letting your feet hang off.<br />
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Then at not quite 6:00 (the hour I've designated as worth getting up!) Luke woke up crying again. In my not-so-wise state of grogginess, I picked him up and brought him into the bed with me. They tiny little toddler bed. And as he laid there snuggled up under my chin (quite literally!), I thought "If we're going to be the only 2 people in this house sharing a bed, why in the heck is it THIS one?!" Thus endeth my attempts to sleep.<br />
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Oh, and just in case I wasn't confident of this already - I am most certainly NOT ready for another newborn in the house. I like my sleep a little too much.<br />
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<a href="http://www.mylivesignature.com/" target="_blank"><img src="http://signatures.mylivesignature.com/54489/90/9BDED6A68E44EABB6BEE07C42776D009.png" style="background-attachment: initial; background-clip: initial; background-color: transparent; background-image: initial; background-origin: initial; background-position: initial initial; background-repeat: initial initial; border-bottom-width: 0px !important; border-color: initial !important; border-left-width: 0px !important; border-right-width: 0px !important; border-style: initial !important; border-top-width: 0px !important;" /></a>Jen F.http://www.blogger.com/profile/13484738281792232215noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8657957206567003646.post-45398247480928764452011-10-24T23:15:00.001-04:002011-10-24T23:15:22.970-04:00Hey there little red riding hood......you sure are looking good<br />
You're everything that a big bad wolf could want.<br />
-Sam the Sham and the Pharaohs, "Lil Red Riding Hood"<br />
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This post is all about the quirky things my boys are doing these days.<br />
<a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-ew6N296z1Ng/TqYiIj20AsI/AAAAAAAABFM/NSSxxVh-yn4/s1600/DSCN0364.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><br /></a><br />
<a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-wzex2ulFY3w/TqYiWmeI0II/AAAAAAAABFc/uuHSbFxPfb0/s1600/DSCN0369.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><br /></a>1. Now that the weather is chilly in the mornings, they need to wear jackets to school. They simply will NOT wear jackets without wearing the hood. Little brother gets it from big bro, but he insists on the hood, even when big bro isn't around. And try to get them to wear hoodless jackets? No dice. The adorable orange fleece that Jay's wearing at the top of the blog header? Luke acts like it's we've asked him to wear sandpaper.<br />
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<i>(We don't generally dress the little peanut in all red, but it was team spirit day. </i></div>
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<i>Had to Wolfpack it up.)</i></div>
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<i>(And did I mention that it must be ALL the way zipped? Every single time?!)</i></div>
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<a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-SlOAA5G7VPs/TqYh3vO5-8I/AAAAAAAABFE/VJXBt74FFXc/s1600/20111009160923.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-SlOAA5G7VPs/TqYh3vO5-8I/AAAAAAAABFE/VJXBt74FFXc/s320/20111009160923.jpg" width="240" /></a></div>
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<i>(Yes, he's wearing shorts. With a jacket. And the hood. </i></div>
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<i>Yes it's quite sunny. Definitely not wearing the hood because of the rain.)</i></div>
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2. Jay's attachment to Cow Lovey is pretty well documented. But he's got lots of other fuzzy friends who make our lives interesting, including Siggy the Piggy, Jeffy the Sheep, and Mayonaise the Tiger. Yes, "Mayonaise." No clue where that came from - he just pulled it out of the air one day, and it stuck. I think he gets it from his Uncle Matt, who named his blanket "Chest Of Drawers." Unky Matt also had a stuffed friend named Willie Michael ... after his two favorite musicians: Willie Nelson and Michael Jackson. We McLeans have interesting musical tastes.<br />
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3. Jay will occasionally make random proclamations. Yesterday on the way home he announced, "Mom - do you know why you have a tongue? So you can clean your mouth!" Hmmm. (I'm choosing not to think about what dinner leftover he "cleaned" out with his tongue!)<br />
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4. Luke <i>detests </i>having his diaper changed. He can twist and turn until he's pretzeled himself and you can't get anywhere near his tush with the diaper. Meanwhile, he's spread poo all over the changing pad, the changing table, and occasionally the wall. But we've learned the trick: give him a book. He will lay there perfectly peacefully, examining every page with incredible detail. Diaper dilemma solved! At no other time of day does he show any interest in books. Bathroom reading - it must be a man thing.<br />
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5. Luke still isn't really talking ... or at least not when we're paying attention. But at 6:15 every morning, he wakes up chatting enthusiastically to the lion who hangs from his crib rail. Loudly. He continues for 45 mins or more, every day. But as soon as you go in his room, he gets shy, flops down on his bed and hides his face. Cutest thing ever. But if he'd like to start saying Mama to my face instead of just to the baby monitor, that would be cool. <br />
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They make me laugh, that's for sure.<br />
<br />
<a href="http://www.mylivesignature.com/" target="_blank"><img src="http://signatures.mylivesignature.com/54489/90/9BDED6A68E44EABB6BEE07C42776D009.png" style="background: transparent; border: 0 !important;" /></a>Jen F.http://www.blogger.com/profile/13484738281792232215noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8657957206567003646.post-55213652121097512642011-10-18T21:33:00.000-04:002011-10-18T21:33:01.033-04:00Wild horses......couldn't drag me away<br />
Wild, wild horses<br />
couldn't drag me away<br />
-Rolling Stones, "Wild Horses"<br />
<br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="background-color: white; font-family: Arial, Tahoma, Helvetica, FreeSans, sans-serif; font-size: 13px; line-height: 18px;"><i>***There were 3 songs I thought would be good intros for this anniversary trip. So as not to waste good musical inspiration, you get the 3 part blog post. Here's Anniversary Post, Part 3. Find <a href="http://torquilandcheezedoodle.blogspot.com/2011/10/lola-loves-frank.html">Part 1 here</a>, and <a href="http://torquilandcheezedoodle.blogspot.com/2011/10/i-wanna-be-there.html">Part 2 here</a>.***</i></span><br />
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Ahh, the wild horses. The last 2 touristy things we wanted to do were to drive on the beach and to see wild horses. How convenient that you can do both simultaneously!</div>
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On Saturday we headed north to where Highway 12 ends. I will admit that I was more than a little nervous about
how sweet Maddie the MDX would handle sand in her britches, but she
was a champ.
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<i>Dear hubby letting a bit of air out of
the ol' tires. </i></div>
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<i> More surface area or something? Car maintenance is
outside my domain.</i></div>
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<i>That's where the road ends and the sand
driving begins.</i></div>
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<i> I held my breath there for a little while.</i></div>
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<i>And lookee there! That's my car –
with ocean right beside it!</i></div>
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Wild horses – right there on the
beach. It was every bit as cool as I had imagined. But after we saw
them, I pretty much said “Okey doke. Checked that off our list,
now let's get my sweet little car back onto pavement where she
belongs, whaddaya say?” While it's definitely preferable to drive
on the beach at low tide (when there's wider areas of packed sand
available), Driver Derek did just fine in our low clearance vehicle
at high tide. Next time, however, we'll take the truck, primarily because it's not mine, therefore I worry less about it. </div>
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And interestingly, I would not want to stay at one of the secluded houses up there - the ones that are only accessible by driving on the sand. Because the beach is a freakin' highway. I saw ONE person sitting on the beach, and that was only because she was in a chair right beside her parked car. Next summer when I'm dragging towels, lawn chairs, umbrella, sand toys and 532 other things over to the beach, there might be a moment when I'll think, "Boy, sure would be nice to toss this stuff into the back of the pickup and drive it right onto the sand." But then I'll remember that there would be no beach to enjoy because it would be covered with 4x4 vehicles out for a joyride. And I'll get my dear hubby to drag all the stuff.</div>
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Then we headed to see the Currituck
Light at Corolla, which really is beautiful, inside and out.<br />
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I climbed all the way
to the top, and I was not scared one little bit. Nope. Not at all
freaked out by looking down. No sireee. No fear here. Can't you
see by the way I was willing to look right over the edge? I never
considered myself scared of heights, but apparently I am. But the
views really were gorgeous.</div>
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<i>(See, not skeered! I'll just stick really, really close </i></div>
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<i>to this large secure thing. Not skeered a bit. No sir.</i></div>
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<i>I'm smiling! Can't smile when you're scared!)</i></div>
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<i>(Please notice the white knuckles. I was holding on tight. </i></div>
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<i>But definitely not scared. Nope. Not a bit.)</i></div>
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And after we left the lighthouse, we headed back the northern route and spent the night at a B&B in Edenton. </div>
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<i>Lovely front porch - we spent the evening enjoying their porch swing.</i></div>
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It was cute and we enjoyed walking around and looking at the historic homes on Sunday morning. But we were glad to head back to Raleigh and see our baby boys again.</div>
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Thus endeth our Outer Banks adventures and our 10 year anniversary second honeymoon. It was a much needed getaway and a great time to reconnect and remember why we got hitched in the first place. Happy anniversary, babe. </div>
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And thus endeth the blog post series. Next week, back to my regularly scheduled updates on the wee ones, which I know is what you're really wanting anyway. Thanks for following along on my little side road!</div>
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<img src="http://signatures.mylivesignature.com/54489/90/9BDED6A68E44EABB6BEE07C42776D009.png" style="background: transparent; border: 0 !important;" />Jen F.http://www.blogger.com/profile/13484738281792232215noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8657957206567003646.post-42183387403971887502011-10-17T22:53:00.000-04:002011-10-17T22:53:10.440-04:00I wanna be there...<span class="Apple-style-span" style="background-color: white; line-height: 18px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit;">...</span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #474747; font-family: 'Times New Roman', Times, serif; font-size: 15px; line-height: 23px;">Wanna go back down and lie beside the sea there</span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #474747; font-family: 'Times New Roman', Times, serif; font-size: 15px; line-height: 23px;">With a tin cup for a chalice, fill it up with good red wine<br style="margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px; padding-bottom: 0px; padding-left: 0px; padding-right: 0px; padding-top: 0px;" />And I'm a chewin' on a honeysuckle vine</span><div>
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #474747; font-family: 'Times New Roman', Times, serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: 15px; line-height: 23px;">-Jimmy Buffett, "Tin Cup Chalice"</span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="background-color: white; line-height: 18px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit;"><br /></span></span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="background-color: white; line-height: 18px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit;"><i>***There were 3 songs I thought would be good intros for this anniversary trip. So as not to waste good musical inspiration, you get the 3 part blog post. Here's Anniversary Post, Part 2. <a href="http://torquilandcheezedoodle.blogspot.com/2011/10/lola-loves-frank.html">Find Part 1 here</a>, and tune in for part 3 tomorrow.***</i></span></span><br />
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This song is perfect because the 10th anniversary traditional gift is tin or aluminum. Weird, I know. I think 10 years ought to be worth more than aluminum, but whatevs. The song is beach + tin cup + red wine ... pretty much sums up the weekend in my book.<br />
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<i>(Why does the decor in B&B places always have to be so grandma-ish?!)</i></div>
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Cheezily romantic OBX tourist attractions? We hit them all.<br />
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<i>(Lighthouse #1 - Hatteras. Iconic symbol of NC - check. <br />It really was as beautiful as the postcards indicate. )</i></div>
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(<i>Lighthouse #2 - Bodie. More scenic than Hatteras in my opinion.<br />Nearly carried off by mosquitoes. Us, not the lighthouse. Though there were<br />enough of them to move large objects for sure.)</i></div>
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<i>(Sunset from the top of Jockey's Ridge. <br />Does it get any more cheezily romantic than that?!)</i></div>
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<i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-style: normal;"><a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-nP5eQ3c36Ok/TpzQQQ5bA3I/AAAAAAAAAys/loq6NUp4FTE/s1600/IMAG0110.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-nP5eQ3c36Ok/TpzQQQ5bA3I/AAAAAAAAAys/loq6NUp4FTE/s320/IMAG0110.jpg" width="191" /></a> </span></i></div>
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<i>(I love you as long as our shadows.)</i></div>
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(<i>If you look closely, you can see the sand blowing across the dune.)</i></div>
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<i>(Approximately half of our pics looked something like this.<br />The wind was unreal. I now understand why it's a good place<br /> to try to fly the world's first airplane!)</i></div>
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<i>(We even got up early to see the sunrise. Well worth it - it was gorgeous.<br />But does the cheesy romance ever end?!)</i></div>
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So you're thinking "Aww, this sounds like a perfect trip." One of my great fears is that my blog - and therefore my life - might be misconstrued as one of those Life is Perfect places where unicorns dance under rainbows. And really, I did actually post a picture of a rainbow on <a href="http://torquilandcheezedoodle.blogspot.com/2011/10/lola-loves-frank.html">my first entry</a>. I'm veering dangerously close to dancing unicorn territory. Where's the hitch?<br />
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Well, there were a few. And they aligned themselves so perfectly within 3 hours to be pretty dang funny, if they weren't so exasperating.<br />
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We'd asked for advice from about things we should do while in the Outer Banks. My facebook friend KMK suggested a lovely place to stay and a couple of great restaurants which we didn't manage to squeeze in while we were in those areas. New friends AC and DC (geez - I never realized their names were so perfectly electric!) both suggested Duck Donuts, which sounded great. We planned to go there for a snack on Saturday. And our trusty <a href="http://www.ourstate.com/">Our State</a> magazine from a few issues back gave us 100 Foods You Must Eat in NC - one from each county. We've made it our quest to eat all 100 of these foods (though we are a really, really long way from getting there). 100 foods included Oceanfront Grille at Corolla Light Resort which was our plan for Saturday lunch.<br />
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Disappointment #1 - Oceanfront Grille doesn't serve lunch. And even if it did, it closed for the season a week prior. So we went to Harris Teeter, got ourselves a sandwich picnic, and found a lovely pier on the sound. Mild bummer, but no huge loss.<br />
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Disappointment #2 - Headed to Duck Donuts for dessert. It closed at 1:00. We arrived at 1:53. Forehead slap. A very brief time with Google could have prevented both of these. We were both pretty bummed about missing out on DD and spent the next 24 hours searching in vain for a cup of coffee and some form of cupcake/pastry/sweet treat. <br />
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Disappointment #3 - Our 100 Foods guide gave us a place on the way home that looked like it might just be the ideal pastry/coffee place to get our sweet tooth fix. We found it - and found it closed. Like permanently. Seriously?! Could these eating establishments work with me here?<br />
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Hey - looking on the bright side, we've already got a long list of places to eat at next time we go. And we learned that it's wise to verify that such places are actually open BEFORE getting our heart set on dining there. <br />
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Tomorrow's update - the wild horses of Currituck. Hey, is that the sound of horse hoofbeats I hear ... or unicorns?!<br />
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<a href="http://www.mylivesignature.com/" target="_blank"><img src="http://signatures.mylivesignature.com/54489/90/9BDED6A68E44EABB6BEE07C42776D009.png" style="background-attachment: initial; background-clip: initial; background-color: transparent; background-image: initial; background-origin: initial; background-position: initial initial; background-repeat: initial initial; border-bottom-width: 0px !important; border-color: initial !important; border-left-width: 0px !important; border-right-width: 0px !important; border-style: initial !important; border-top-width: 0px !important;" /></a></div>Jen F.http://www.blogger.com/profile/13484738281792232215noreply@blogger.com2