tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-72662490400091888132024-02-06T21:48:13.513-08:00He and Me. And Baby. And Baby. And Baby. Makes Five. Fun little house in a little town. Jessicahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07299811735368540596noreply@blogger.comBlogger69125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7266249040009188813.post-12437010641017292342020-06-30T22:13:00.002-07:002020-06-30T22:13:37.307-07:00What I Want to Tell You... From a BirthmomI don't remember writing this. It has been in my drafts for the 5 years I haven't revisited my blog. But I logged in today and read it, and I think it is important to post.<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
For the pregnant woman considering adoption.<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
What I want to tell you, dear girl, is that you are brave. <br />
<br />
Allowing that baby to grow in your womb... that choice was brave.<br />
Rejecting the people that told you to just "take care of the problem"... that was brave.<br />
Crying so many tears in the dark, then drying them and stepping into the light... that was so brave.<br />
<br />
And even just the thought, even just <i>considering</i> adoption in the first place... is brave.<br />
<br />
You are brave.<br />
<br />
You might not feel strong. You might not feel confident. You might not feel successful or smart or able. But you are brave.<br />
<br />
What I want to tell you is that I know you are scared.<br />
Being pregnant is scary, no matter what your circumstance.<br />
But carrying, growing, falling in love with a baby that you think does not belong in your home... that is the scariest of all.<br />
<br />
What I want to tell you is that you are doing the right thing.<br />
You are thinking. You are deciding. You are trying to figure out the <i>best possible scenario </i>for the life of you and your child. And that is all a loving parent can do.<br />
We don't know what will happen in one year, or five years, or twenty years.<br />
We can only do what we think is the right thing <i>right now... </i>and pray that it all works out in the end.<br />
<br />
What I want to tell you is that you are not alone.<br />
I am here. Even if I don't know you, I love you. Because I've been there.<br />
And I think you are the bravest. Because, regardless of whether you end up placing your child for adoption or not, you are <i>willing. </i>You are <i>willing</i> to give your child to someone else so he has a better chance. You are <i>willing</i> to let her go, because you want her to have a good life, a life you do not believe you can give her.<br />
You are <i>willing</i> to do <i>the hardest thing. </i><br />
And you are not alone.<br />
<br />
What I want to tell you... and this is the hardest thing... is that it is okay to change your mind.<br />
This is the hardest thing, because I do not want anyone to get hurt. And if you change your mind, someone will get hurt. A couple will get hurt. Their family will get hurt. And you will be the one that hurt them.<br />
A couple is hoping for that child, praying for that child, waiting for that child.<br />
You let them believe, because you honestly believed that adoption was the best thing for your child.<br />
You let them believe, because YOU believed that you were going to give them your child.<br />
But that is <i>your</i> child, until you decide to place him in another's care.<br />
And, when that time comes, if you cannot let your baby go... it is okay to change your mind.<br />
It will hurt. Bad.<br />
It will be hard for everyone it touches.<br />
But if you know, when you hold your child, that you cannot let him go, it is okay to change your mind.<br />
<br />
What I want to tell you is to please be certain before you decide.<br />
Be certain that you have chosen adoption.<br />
Be certain that you will NOT change your mind.<br />
Be certain.<br />
Lead with your head, and follow with your heart.<br />
Then, lead with your heart, and follow with your head.<br />
And then, if both of those align, you will be certain.<br />
When you are certain, decide.<br />
(But know, that even the most certain decisions can change. Which is why I <i>have </i>to tell you what I already have told you... and that is that it is okay to change your mind. That is the <i>least</i> desirable scenario, but I support your right to choose what is best for your child, for as long as that child is yours.)<br />
<br />
What I want to tell you is to take your time.<br />
You do not have to decide today.<br />
You do not have to decide when you are in labor.<br />
You do not have to decide even 48 hours after the baby is born, and the lawyer is pressuring you to sign the papers, and your child's adoptive parents are looking at you, with such hope and anticipation in their eyes.<br />
You do not have to decide until you are ready to decide.<br />
Pray. Hard. And be certain before you decide.<br />
<br />
What I want to tell you is that life goes on.<br />
Whether you keep the child, or place the child, or have a loved one care for the child until you can care for him... life goes on.<br />
And you, and your child, and your children to come, will have the opportunity for happiness.<br />
You, your child, your children to come, will have the opportunity for success.<br />
For family.<br />
For life.<br />
For joy.<br />
<br />
What I want to tell you, is that no matter what you decide, you can be happy if you choose it.<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
And, what I want to tell you, dear girl, is that you are beautiful.<br />
And your child, whether he carries your last name or not, is beautiful.<br />
And, no matter what anyone thinks or says... no matter if your child loves or curses your name... no matter if people understand or don't,<br />
I think you are beautiful.<br />
<br />
And you are in my prayers.<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
**Author's Note:<br />
<br />
I wrote this after being a friend to some other women who were facing, or have faced adoption. I've never met these women, but I am so proud to have been given the opportunity to speak with them.<br />
One chose, after giving birth to her child, to keep him. Another chose adoption and is really, really struggling with that decision and missing her son terribly. Another is still pregnant and has chosen adoption, but I sense a slight hesitation in our conversations and don't want her to make the wrong choice.<br />
<br />
Adoption is beautiful, but it is scary, and it is final. It should be encouraged, but those considering should also be educated. It is the right choice for many women. But it the wrong choice for others.<br />
<br />
I think that birthmothers, and even <i>potential </i>birthmothers, should speak up more. I think that it is so, so important to support an expectant mother considering adoption, whether she believes that her child will live better in another home and places her child, or whether she, at the very last second, decides not to sign the adoption papers and keeps the child.<br />
<br />
I don't think society realizes how brave a birthmother has to be, and I don't think adoption is discussed near like it should be. There are circumstances where the mother is a drug addict, or incarcerated, and adoption is mandated. This breaks my heart. There are circumstances where the mother is forced to place her child (which can be the best thing, or can be absolutely horrible), and this breaks my heart. SO MANY adoptions occurring now are women who are smart, educated, some are mothers, others are in college... and these women are heroes to their children. They have chosen LIFE for their child, despite all odds. They have chosen LIFE in a society that would rather see them abort. And that takes courage.<br />
<br />
These women need a voice, need support, and need love.<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />Jessicahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07299811735368540596noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7266249040009188813.post-36664959788572650602014-10-30T12:20:00.000-07:002014-10-30T12:34:42.125-07:00Dear Husband, Please Help Me Remember...I am not a superhero.<br />
I do not have super powers, and I shouldn't expect that I do.<br />
I am human.<br />
I have been given the great honor of being able to conceive and carry healthy children to term, and the gratitude I feel for that blessing is indescribable.<br />
But I am not a superhero.<br />
To my dear husband, please help me remember that.<br />
<br />
Our fourth baby is three days old today. And life sets in.<br />
<br />
I am madly, madly in love - more than I even thought I could be - with this baby, who came at time we did not expect, and who somehow just grew my heart and our home... this baby who only just became part of our family in the flesh, but who none of us could now imagine our life without.<br />
<br />
But today is day three.<br />
That dreaded day three.<br />
And I need some help.<br />
<br />
You see, I don't remember.<br />
I don't remember how I felt after giving birth to our first few children.<br />
I don't remember if my back hurt or how long it took me to recover.<br />
<br />
I only know that today I looked at my sleeping baby, in awe and madly in love... and then looked at my unmade bed, and the dishes in the sink, and the belly that still looks pregnant, and wondered how I've let myself go.<br />
<br />
I've done this child bearing thing three times already. I've birthed and brought home three babies in the last ten years. I should have this thing down, right? I should be able to bring home the baby, take a shower, cook dinner, wash the dishes, clean up the house, straighten the rooms, put on makeup, finish the laundry, nurse the baby, help with homework...<br />
<br />
I should be able to do those things by now. This is the fourth baby. Baby number three, now, that one was hard. But four? Should be a breeze. Should be able to heal up quick (especially after that ridiiiculously perfect labor and delivery - like, book perfect. I'm still basking in "I am not worthy, Lord" over that delivery. Story another time...), put on some music, and put a skip in my step as I go about the life that we had just a few days ago, in the body I had nine months ago...<br />
<br />
I did lots of those things these last three days. I put up laundry, unpacked a little, washed some dishes. Then, day three hit, and it's all over.<br />
<br />
I am not a superhero, and I need you, my dear husband, over the next couple weeks especially, to please be kind and to help me remember.<br />
<br />
<b>Dear Husband, Please help me remember, </b><br />
<br />
<b>I am not 21. </b><br />
My body is not going to bounce back like I am 21.<br />
My back will take more time to heal after a pregnancy that strained it.<br />
My abs have been stretched a number of times, and it is going to take some time - months, even, for my muscles to heal. Even then, they will not go back to normal. It will take time. Then, more time and exercise, for my stomach to do something I like.<br />
<i>You think I'm sexy, anyway. </i><br />
<br />
<b>I am not dying.</b><br />
My insides hurt because they're a jumbled mess. I'm having shortness of breath because my lungs are rearranging themselves after a baby pushed against them for the last couple months. My stomach is in knots because it is literally in knots. My entire organ structure, three days ago, was scrunched toward by back and around a tiny little person in a sack of water... and it will take a little time for that jumbled mess to return to normal. And it will probably feel like my insides are jumbled for a while. Because they are.<br />
<i>You'll be patient as I whine, and, if something really is wrong, you will make me talk to the doctor. (But please remind me... I feel so weird because my insides are weird, but they won't be weird forever.) </i><br />
<br />
<b>I am not measured by my house. </b><br />
I have a three day old baby. I should hold him, and kiss him, and lay with him. And the dishes in the sink mean nothing. The laundry in the dryer can wait. The beds don't HAVE to be made every day. No one is looking at my house when they come to see the baby. They're here to see the baby. If they have a hard time looking at a floor that needs mopping and dishes that need washing, they will mop the floor and wash the dishes.<br />
<i>You will help me if and when you can, but in the meantime, you don't want me to worry. Because the house is trivial as this new baby joins our home. </i><br />
<br />
<b>I MUST lay down.</b><br />
That whole "organs rearranging" thing is real, and if I'm walking, bending, standing, or even sitting all day, they will have a much harder time returning to their homes. Plus, sleep is kind of important. As the little guy is learning that we generally sleep at nighttime, it is important that I get naps in during the day with him. Nobody will be happy if I can't wake up to feed this baby at night, because I'm too exhausted from days of no sleep.<br />
<i>You like that I have organs that work, and a baby that is alive and fed, and you'd like for me to keep them that way. </i><br />
<br />
<b>It is okay to say yes. And no. </b><br />
Yes, company is welcome. No, please stay away. Yes, I can do that. No, we can't go there.<br />
These days it is totally up to me who I want to see, and when. And there is nothing rude or inhospitable about it. It is up to my better judgment what I can do, where we can go, and what we're capable of at this point. I am accountable only to myself, you, and our children. Because we just just added a family member.<br />
<i>You've got my back, no matter who is offended, or what we have to miss. </i><br />
<br />
<b>It's okay that I forgot things.</b><br />
How bad breastfeeding hurts at first. How much back pain comes with pushing a baby out down there. How adrenaline wears off and days three and four can be really, really hard. How terrifying it is to go to the bathroom that first time after leaving the hospital. How bad the cramps are those first few days. How sweet a newborn's cry is, until it's four a.m. and I still haven't slept. How amazing every little wrinkle and fingernail and coo is. How much the heart expands to love a new baby, and how I will want to spend hours on end holding and loving and staring at this precious little creature.<br />
<i>You forgot things, too. </i><br />
<i><br /></i>
<b>Carbs are okay. But be easy. </b><br />
Yes, I can enjoy. Don't be surprised when I eat all those Ghiradelli squares you bought me in the hospital, and all the chips in the goody bag, and those cookies that the neighbor brought. But I'm not 21, and this is not a free-for-all. Nursing makes me carb-crazy, but being overweight and feeling yucky from sugar highs makes me crazier. You love me enough to endure the wrath you will receive when you ask if I ate ALL the dark chocolate. Receive it gracefully, and allow me a couple weeks of free time to eat and binge on whatever. Then start hiding and throwing away all the things.<br />
<i>You'll kindly pick up the Three Musketeers candy wrapper and throw it in the trash for me. But you'll also pry said Three Musketeers from my hand when I've fallen asleep into a card-induced coma, put it in the trash, and hide the rest of the candy and cookies. </i><br />
<i><br /></i>
<b>You love me. </b><br />
Tell me more than usual. Kiss my forehead. Lead me to bed with the baby, and tell me to rest and that you've got the other kids under control.<br />
Run a hot shower for me, and hold the baby even if he screams the whole time I'm in there.<br />
Rub my shoulders, and my belly if I'll let you (because, really, it feels a little like I'm dying, and effleurage is good).<br />
Tell me I look great, and rub lotion on my aching back.<br />
Use kind and gentle words, and remember to tell me you love me.<br />
<i>Because you are my partner in this life, and because you do. </i><br />
<br />
Just remind me of these things. Because I shouldn't think I should have it all together. I shouldn't be worried about getting back to life as we know it, right away. Remind me that all change takes time and adjustment, and this is NOT life as we knew it!<br />
<br />
This is life as <i>six</i>, instead of five. Life of three boys and three girls. Life in a family with four children, not three. And, no matter how bad I ache, or how long it takes to get back into my jeans, or how many loads of laundry pile up, <i>this life is beautiful</i>.<br />
<br />
<b>Dear Husband, Please remind me that we're blessed. </b><br />
Every single day.<br />
Because we are. We really, really are.<br />
<br />
<3<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />Jessicahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07299811735368540596noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7266249040009188813.post-32027228968556793972014-10-21T07:28:00.002-07:002014-10-21T07:28:40.345-07:00And Time Flies! <span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">Five months has flown since my last post.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">Five months. </span><br />
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">And what a five months it has been! </span><br />
<br />
<ul>
<li><span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">June: </span></li>
<ul>
<li><span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">My and Jeff's TEN YEAR ANNIVERSARY! (June 5)</span></li>
<li><span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">A move away from Farwell (which was ultra bittersweet, and still is - and which took place directly around our TEN YEAR ANNIVERSARY. So, that was a bum celebration. You can understand if you've ever moved that it is less than an anniversary date...)</span></li>
<li><span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">June: A move into our friends', the Burch Family, house, into a bedroom, for almost two months (it was smooth and we had a good time. They're incredible hosts, and we were beyond blessed that they were willing to give us a room for our big family in our transition!)</span></li>
</ul>
<li><span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">July: </span></li>
<ul>
<li><span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">A super fun birthday party for Annie, who turned TEN YEARS OLD on August 1! (Party was a pool party at Ransom Canyon. She and Mary shared the celebration and there was a great turn out! So many friends were there!)</span></li>
</ul>
<li><span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">August: </span></li>
<ul>
<li><span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">Our little girl turned TEN! She continues to delight and surprise and challenge us. She is the most incredible big sister, always willing to lend a hand, a MASTER at redirection with her siblings, and going to be my right-hand-girl when this baby is born!</span></li>
<li><span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">A move OUT of the Burch home and storage facility and IN to our new little adobe abode</span></li>
<li><span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">A move OUT of our little adobe abode, for a couple days while carpet was replaced in the house, and then back IN to our adobe abode</span></li>
<li><span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">School started back! With a new principal, and a new Pre-K teacher and Aide (Mrs. Karly Warsing and Yours Truly), Aidan and Adeline started their "go" at St. Joseph School, and Annie entered FIFTH GRADE back with her old friends and classmates.</span></li>
<li><span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">Jeff started school at Texas Tech! He entered the Mechanical Engineering program, and I could dote all day on what an incredible man he is. He has a full house (about to get fuller!), a full time job, a full school load, and still mows my parents lawn, and helps people move, and plays with his kids, and takes us to Mass on Sunday mornings, and does homework until midnight just to get up for work at 5 a.m. the next day. I am in awe of him, and I'd better stop now, before my gushing turns this supposed-to-be-a-glimpse post into a novel of sorts...</span></li>
</ul>
<li><span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">September: </span></li>
<ul>
<li><span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">Settling in, I was teacher's aide for full and half-days throughout the month, but nothing much to report here. Time just... flies. </span></li>
</ul>
<li><span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">October: </span></li>
<ul>
<li><span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">Here we are! I've played guitar and led music at School Mass the last three Fridays, while my parents have been out of town (from Deacon Formation to New Jersey "Jersey Boys" trip, to Michigan!). </span></li>
<li><span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">Started a Women of Virtue study, where we will meet weekly to discuss the Ten Virtues of Mary. Started last night with Lively Faith, and I'm encouraged to try to mold each virtue more into myself, into my core! </span></li>
<li><span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">And, perhaps more important than anything else... KELLY BABY NUMBER FOUR IS ALMOST HERE! I'm DUE in FOUR days. If I don't have him naturally, the doctor has set next Wednesday as his date for induction. Basically, if Baby Boy doesn't make a natural appearance, he will share a birthday with his daddy, and his uncle (daddy's twin), and his Aunt Melanie, and his Godsister, Georgia Kate... I think I'm even missing someone. Going to be a BIG DAY for a birthday! </span></li>
</ul>
</ul>
<div>
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">And, time flies. Five months here and gone. Lots of joy and tears and frustrations and peace, a powerful confession, a garage sale, loads of laundry... and the world spins madly on! </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><br /></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">I'm on a self-inflicted Facebook hiatus, which is probably what spurred this re-entry into my blog... which has been intended for quite some time! </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><br /></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">And now, my mind is racing with the few things I have left to do to prepare to meet this little guy (who has yet to be named - Arthur? Clark? August? Finn? Who knows!). So, I end abruptly and get on with this day! <3</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><br /></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">J</span></div>
<br />
<br />Jessicahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07299811735368540596noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7266249040009188813.post-38360490909633233282014-05-13T07:57:00.001-07:002014-05-13T08:27:46.294-07:00Babies, Babies, EVERYWHERE!<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">On Thursday we will go for our first ultrasound this pregnancy. It will be the first glimpse at our child, the first view of a tiny heartbeat, tiny head and hands and toes. I pray that Littlest Kelly cooperates and gives us a good view of that little face, but mostly I pray that development is on-point and progress is healthy, and that if we have any surprises (disability, or, Lordhavemercy, multiple babies), we are strong in faith. </span><br />
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">This is our fourth Kelly kid. Four babies running around this house. 1. What are we going to do?! and 2. What were we THINKING?!</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">I've seen some really funny posts (and really sad ones, too) regarding comments people get about having any number of children. This is the most recent:</span><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;"><span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><img height="400" src="https://scontent-b-lax.xx.fbcdn.net/hphotos-frc1/t1.0-9/10247359_10152098135618457_7323509805866025595_n.jpg" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;" width="241" /></span></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://scontent-b-lax.xx.fbcdn.net/hphotos-frc1/t1.0-9/10247359_10152098135618457_7323509805866025595_n.jpg"><span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">Image</span></a></td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">It's kind of hilarious but sadly, true. This was my lighthearted response:<br /><br /><span data-reactid=".1l.1:3:1:$comment822246304469979_822619164432693:0.0.$right.0.$left.0.0.0:$comment-body.0.0" style="background-color: #fafbfb; color: #4e5665; font-size: 12px; line-height: 15.359999656677246px;"><span data-reactid=".1l.1:3:1:$comment822246304469979_822619164432693:0.0.$right.0.$left.0.0.0:$comment-body.0.0.$end:0:$0:0">"Hahaha this is awesome! </span></span></span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><span data-reactid=".1l.1:3:1:$comment822246304469979_822619164432693:0.0.$right.0.$left.0.0.0:$comment-body.0.0" style="background-color: #fafbfb; color: #4e5665; font-size: 12px; line-height: 15.359999656677246px;"><br data-reactid=".1l.1:3:1:$comment822246304469979_822619164432693:0.0.$right.0.$left.0.0.0:$comment-body.0.0.$end:0:$1:0" /><span data-reactid=".1l.1:3:1:$comment822246304469979_822619164432693:0.0.$right.0.$left.0.0.0:$comment-body.0.0.$end:0:$2:0">Let's see... I'm pregnant with #4 (which I really don't even think is that big of a number. It's actually normal, I think), and I get:</span></span><span data-reactid=".1l.1:3:1:$comment822246304469979_822619164432693:0.0.$right.0.$left.0.0.0:$comment-body.0.3" style="background-color: #fafbfb; color: #4e5665; font-size: 12px; line-height: 15.359999656677246px;"><span data-reactid=".1l.1:3:1:$comment822246304469979_822619164432693:0.0.$right.0.$left.0.0.0:$comment-body.0.3.0"><br data-reactid=".1l.1:3:1:$comment822246304469979_822619164432693:0.0.$right.0.$left.0.0.0:$comment-body.0.3.0.$end:0:$1:0" /><br data-reactid=".1l.1:3:1:$comment822246304469979_822619164432693:0.0.$right.0.$left.0.0.0:$comment-body.0.3.0.$end:0:$3:0" /><span data-reactid=".1l.1:3:1:$comment822246304469979_822619164432693:0.0.$right.0.$left.0.0.0:$comment-body.0.3.0.$end:0:$4:0">"Oh, you must be Catholic," (because clearly only Catholic people like having kids. Wait, what? And EVERY Catholic has more than 2 kids, and every non-Catholic has less than 4. Right?) </span><br data-reactid=".1l.1:3:1:$comment822246304469979_822619164432693:0.0.$right.0.$left.0.0.0:$comment-body.0.3.0.$end:0:$5:0" /><br data-reactid=".1l.1:3:1:$comment822246304469979_822619164432693:0.0.$right.0.$left.0.0.0:$comment-body.0.3.0.$end:0:$7:0" /><span data-reactid=".1l.1:3:1:$comment822246304469979_822619164432693:0.0.$right.0.$left.0.0.0:$comment-body.0.3.0.$end:0:$8:0">"You know what causes that, right?" (Because it's totally appropriate to point out that me and my husband have sex in the privacy of our home. Perhaps they would also like to know our positions and attire? This could get interesting...), </span><br data-reactid=".1l.1:3:1:$comment822246304469979_822619164432693:0.0.$right.0.$left.0.0.0:$comment-body.0.3.0.$end:0:$9:0" /><br data-reactid=".1l.1:3:1:$comment822246304469979_822619164432693:0.0.$right.0.$left.0.0.0:$comment-body.0.3.0.$end:0:$11:0" /><span data-reactid=".1l.1:3:1:$comment822246304469979_822619164432693:0.0.$right.0.$left.0.0.0:$comment-body.0.3.0.$end:0:$12:0">and "Dang! You trying to catch up with your brother?!" (Because my brother's wife is pregnant with #7). </span><br data-reactid=".1l.1:3:1:$comment822246304469979_822619164432693:0.0.$right.0.$left.0.0.0:$comment-body.0.3.0.$end:0:$13:0" /><br data-reactid=".1l.1:3:1:$comment822246304469979_822619164432693:0.0.$right.0.$left.0.0.0:$comment-body.0.3.0.$end:0:$15:0" /><span data-reactid=".1l.1:3:1:$comment822246304469979_822619164432693:0.0.$right.0.$left.0.0.0:$comment-body.0.3.0.$end:0:$16:0">Um, yes I'm Catholic, but that's not why I'm pregnant. My husband and I have awesome kids, and still have the passion in our relationship that we did when we were 21. That is why I am pregnant. </span><br data-reactid=".1l.1:3:1:$comment822246304469979_822619164432693:0.0.$right.0.$left.0.0.0:$comment-body.0.3.0.$end:0:$17:0" /><br data-reactid=".1l.1:3:1:$comment822246304469979_822619164432693:0.0.$right.0.$left.0.0.0:$comment-body.0.3.0.$end:0:$19:0" /><span data-reactid=".1l.1:3:1:$comment822246304469979_822619164432693:0.0.$right.0.$left.0.0.0:$comment-body.0.3.0.$end:0:$20:0">Oh, and no, I will never "catch up with my brother," you idiots. Child-bearing is the single most amazing, incredible, and beautiful miracle on earth... not a game of tag. </span><br data-reactid=".1l.1:3:1:$comment822246304469979_822619164432693:0.0.$right.0.$left.0.0.0:$comment-body.0.3.0.$end:0:$21:0" /><br data-reactid=".1l.1:3:1:$comment822246304469979_822619164432693:0.0.$right.0.$left.0.0.0:$comment-body.0.3.0.$end:0:$23:0" /><span data-reactid=".1l.1:3:1:$comment822246304469979_822619164432693:0.0.$right.0.$left.0.0.0:$comment-body.0.3.0.$end:0:$24:0">Oh, one more thing... please don't ask me "are you done after this one?" Um, I haven't even met this kid yet, and what the heck does that even mean... are you done? Like kids are cookies? </span><br data-reactid=".1l.1:3:1:$comment822246304469979_822619164432693:0.0.$right.0.$left.0.0.0:$comment-body.0.3.0.$end:0:$25:0" /><br data-reactid=".1l.1:3:1:$comment822246304469979_822619164432693:0.0.$right.0.$left.0.0.0:$comment-body.0.3.0.$end:0:$27:0" /><span data-reactid=".1l.1:3:1:$comment822246304469979_822619164432693:0.0.$right.0.$left.0.0.0:$comment-body.0.3.0.$end:0:$28:0">K. Done. :)"</span></span></span></span><br />
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<span data-reactid=".1l.1:3:1:$comment822246304469979_822619164432693:0.0.$right.0.$left.0.0.0:$comment-body.0.3" style="background-color: #fafbfb; color: #4e5665; font-size: 12px; line-height: 15.359999656677246px;"><span data-reactid=".1l.1:3:1:$comment822246304469979_822619164432693:0.0.$right.0.$left.0.0.0:$comment-body.0.3.0"><span data-reactid=".1l.1:3:1:$comment822246304469979_822619164432693:0.0.$right.0.$left.0.0.0:$comment-body.0.3.0.$end:0:$28:0"><span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><br /></span></span></span></span></div>
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<span data-reactid=".1l.1:3:1:$comment822246304469979_822619164432693:0.0.$right.0.$left.0.0.0:$comment-body.0.3" style="background-color: #fafbfb; line-height: 15.359999656677246px;"><span data-reactid=".1l.1:3:1:$comment822246304469979_822619164432693:0.0.$right.0.$left.0.0.0:$comment-body.0.3.0"><span data-reactid=".1l.1:3:1:$comment822246304469979_822619164432693:0.0.$right.0.$left.0.0.0:$comment-body.0.3.0.$end:0:$28:0"><span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><br />I have been thinking more and more about this topic over the last week, and why it is that Catholics really do seem to have more children (at least in my surroundings - which might be abnormal but I don't think so). </span></span></span></span></div>
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<span data-reactid=".1l.1:3:1:$comment822246304469979_822619164432693:0.0.$right.0.$left.0.0.0:$comment-body.0.3" style="background-color: #fafbfb; line-height: 15.359999656677246px;"><span data-reactid=".1l.1:3:1:$comment822246304469979_822619164432693:0.0.$right.0.$left.0.0.0:$comment-body.0.3.0"><span data-reactid=".1l.1:3:1:$comment822246304469979_822619164432693:0.0.$right.0.$left.0.0.0:$comment-body.0.3.0.$end:0:$28:0"><span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><br /></span></span></span></span></div>
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<span data-reactid=".1l.1:3:1:$comment822246304469979_822619164432693:0.0.$right.0.$left.0.0.0:$comment-body.0.3" style="background-color: #fafbfb; line-height: 15.359999656677246px;"><span data-reactid=".1l.1:3:1:$comment822246304469979_822619164432693:0.0.$right.0.$left.0.0.0:$comment-body.0.3.0"><span data-reactid=".1l.1:3:1:$comment822246304469979_822619164432693:0.0.$right.0.$left.0.0.0:$comment-body.0.3.0.$end:0:$28:0"><span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">A couple pretty obvious answers come to mind, but that we don't "believe" in birth control is probably the most common. </span></span></span></span></div>
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<span data-reactid=".1l.1:3:1:$comment822246304469979_822619164432693:0.0.$right.0.$left.0.0.0:$comment-body.0.3" style="background-color: #fafbfb; line-height: 15.359999656677246px;"><span data-reactid=".1l.1:3:1:$comment822246304469979_822619164432693:0.0.$right.0.$left.0.0.0:$comment-body.0.3.0"><span data-reactid=".1l.1:3:1:$comment822246304469979_822619164432693:0.0.$right.0.$left.0.0.0:$comment-body.0.3.0.$end:0:$28:0"><span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><br /></span></span></span></span></div>
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<span data-reactid=".1l.1:3:1:$comment822246304469979_822619164432693:0.0.$right.0.$left.0.0.0:$comment-body.0.3" style="background-color: #fafbfb; line-height: 15.359999656677246px;"><span data-reactid=".1l.1:3:1:$comment822246304469979_822619164432693:0.0.$right.0.$left.0.0.0:$comment-body.0.3.0"><span data-reactid=".1l.1:3:1:$comment822246304469979_822619164432693:0.0.$right.0.$left.0.0.0:$comment-body.0.3.0.$end:0:$28:0"><span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">But the truth is, our convictions go much further than that. (Mind you, I realize that this is not an ONLY Catholic thing. And I have no research to back up any of this. So I'm formulating things the best I can. Bear with me.)</span></span></span></span></div>
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<span data-reactid=".1l.1:3:1:$comment822246304469979_822619164432693:0.0.$right.0.$left.0.0.0:$comment-body.0.3" style="background-color: #fafbfb; line-height: 15.359999656677246px;"><span data-reactid=".1l.1:3:1:$comment822246304469979_822619164432693:0.0.$right.0.$left.0.0.0:$comment-body.0.3.0"><span data-reactid=".1l.1:3:1:$comment822246304469979_822619164432693:0.0.$right.0.$left.0.0.0:$comment-body.0.3.0.$end:0:$28:0"><span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><br /></span></span></span></span></div>
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<span data-reactid=".1l.1:3:1:$comment822246304469979_822619164432693:0.0.$right.0.$left.0.0.0:$comment-body.0.3" style="background-color: #fafbfb; line-height: 15.359999656677246px;"><span data-reactid=".1l.1:3:1:$comment822246304469979_822619164432693:0.0.$right.0.$left.0.0.0:$comment-body.0.3.0"><span data-reactid=".1l.1:3:1:$comment822246304469979_822619164432693:0.0.$right.0.$left.0.0.0:$comment-body.0.3.0.$end:0:$28:0"><span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">As my 2 year-old daughter scrolls through my phone's photo gallery, finding videos of herself to watch in vanity, and my 4 year-old son runs around with a Superman costume and cape on, swinging a foam bat to hit baby dolls across the room, and the computer is propped on my lap, with my ever-expanding belly growing with life, I smile. And I ponder... </span></span></span></span></div>
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<span data-reactid=".1l.1:3:1:$comment822246304469979_822619164432693:0.0.$right.0.$left.0.0.0:$comment-body.0.3" style="background-color: #fafbfb; line-height: 15.359999656677246px;"><span data-reactid=".1l.1:3:1:$comment822246304469979_822619164432693:0.0.$right.0.$left.0.0.0:$comment-body.0.3.0"><span data-reactid=".1l.1:3:1:$comment822246304469979_822619164432693:0.0.$right.0.$left.0.0.0:$comment-body.0.3.0.$end:0:$28:0"><span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><br /><b><span style="font-size: large;">Why do many Catholics </span>(and other God-fearing people - insert Duggars here)<span style="font-size: large;"> have so many kids?</span></b></span></span></span></span></div>
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<span data-reactid=".1l.1:3:1:$comment822246304469979_822619164432693:0.0.$right.0.$left.0.0.0:$comment-body.0.3" style="background-color: #fafbfb; line-height: 15.359999656677246px;"><span data-reactid=".1l.1:3:1:$comment822246304469979_822619164432693:0.0.$right.0.$left.0.0.0:$comment-body.0.3.0"><span data-reactid=".1l.1:3:1:$comment822246304469979_822619164432693:0.0.$right.0.$left.0.0.0:$comment-body.0.3.0.$end:0:$28:0"><span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><br /></span></span></span></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><span style="background-color: #fafbfb; line-height: 15.359999656677246px;">Mind you, we did not "want" more children. We were very happy with our little brood, and our family felt totally complete. Of course, it also felt complete after Annie. And Aidan. Funny how it feels MORE complete with each child. </span></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><span style="background-color: #fafbfb; line-height: 15.359999656677246px;">But for the most part, we assumed we were not going to have more children, we did not particularly want more children, and after a difficult pregnancy with Adeline, I certainly did not want to carry another child in this body. So, to put it as delicately as I can, we were "careful" in timing and activity. </span></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><span style="background-color: #fafbfb;"><span style="line-height: 15.359999656677246px;">Nevertheless, I became pregnant. Because my husband and I can't keep our hands off each other. (Praise God for that, right? How boring would marriage be if we could?)</span><br /><br /><span style="line-height: 15.359999656677246px;">Obviously, we do not use birth control in the form of condoms or medication. Now, this is very imporatant, so pay attention. We do not oppose birth control because we are Catholic, though it is against Church teaching. </span></span></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><span style="background-color: #fafbfb;"><br /><span style="line-height: 15.359999656677246px;"><i>We don't use birth control because we are in a committed and trusting marriage.</i> We have so many kids because of <i>three key trust-centered relationships. </i></span></span></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><span style="background-color: #fafbfb;"><span style="line-height: 15.359999656677246px;"><br /></span></span></span></div>
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<span data-reactid=".1l.1:3:1:$comment822246304469979_822619164432693:0.0.$right.0.$left.0.0.0:$comment-body.0.3" style="background-color: #fafbfb; line-height: 15.359999656677246px;"><span data-reactid=".1l.1:3:1:$comment822246304469979_822619164432693:0.0.$right.0.$left.0.0.0:$comment-body.0.3.0"><span data-reactid=".1l.1:3:1:$comment822246304469979_822619164432693:0.0.$right.0.$left.0.0.0:$comment-body.0.3.0.$end:0:$28:0"><span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><b>#1 - We trust God. </b></span></span></span></span></div>
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<span data-reactid=".1l.1:3:1:$comment822246304469979_822619164432693:0.0.$right.0.$left.0.0.0:$comment-body.0.3" style="background-color: #fafbfb; line-height: 15.359999656677246px;"><span data-reactid=".1l.1:3:1:$comment822246304469979_822619164432693:0.0.$right.0.$left.0.0.0:$comment-body.0.3.0"><span data-reactid=".1l.1:3:1:$comment822246304469979_822619164432693:0.0.$right.0.$left.0.0.0:$comment-body.0.3.0.$end:0:$28:0"><span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><br /></span></span></span></span></div>
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<span data-reactid=".1l.1:3:1:$comment822246304469979_822619164432693:0.0.$right.0.$left.0.0.0:$comment-body.0.3" style="background-color: #fafbfb; line-height: 15.359999656677246px;"><span data-reactid=".1l.1:3:1:$comment822246304469979_822619164432693:0.0.$right.0.$left.0.0.0:$comment-body.0.3.0"><span data-reactid=".1l.1:3:1:$comment822246304469979_822619164432693:0.0.$right.0.$left.0.0.0:$comment-body.0.3.0.$end:0:$28:0"><span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">We cannot, I mean, CAN NOT trust God fully if we trust Him in all areas of our life EXCEPT the most obvious... GIVING life. We cannot say "I put all my trust in you, my God... except for how many kids you have planned for us. We're going to go ahead and take that, that HUGE part of our lives, and just trust our own plans on that one. Sorry 'bout ya." <br /><br />"Lord, I trust you to provide for my current family. I trust you to provide health, peace, stability... but ONLY for us and our two point five, no more." Does this even make sense? </span></span></span></span></div>
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<span data-reactid=".1l.1:3:1:$comment822246304469979_822619164432693:0.0.$right.0.$left.0.0.0:$comment-body.0.3" style="background-color: #fafbfb; line-height: 15.359999656677246px;"><span data-reactid=".1l.1:3:1:$comment822246304469979_822619164432693:0.0.$right.0.$left.0.0.0:$comment-body.0.3.0"><span data-reactid=".1l.1:3:1:$comment822246304469979_822619164432693:0.0.$right.0.$left.0.0.0:$comment-body.0.3.0.$end:0:$28:0"><span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><br /></span></span></span></span></div>
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<span data-reactid=".1l.1:3:1:$comment822246304469979_822619164432693:0.0.$right.0.$left.0.0.0:$comment-body.0.3" style="background-color: #fafbfb; line-height: 15.359999656677246px;"><span data-reactid=".1l.1:3:1:$comment822246304469979_822619164432693:0.0.$right.0.$left.0.0.0:$comment-body.0.3.0"><span data-reactid=".1l.1:3:1:$comment822246304469979_822619164432693:0.0.$right.0.$left.0.0.0:$comment-body.0.3.0.$end:0:$28:0"><span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">We cannot fully rely on God if we don't trust Him when it comes to childbearing. Period. </span></span></span></span></div>
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<span data-reactid=".1l.1:3:1:$comment822246304469979_822619164432693:0.0.$right.0.$left.0.0.0:$comment-body.0.3" style="background-color: #fafbfb; line-height: 15.359999656677246px;"><span data-reactid=".1l.1:3:1:$comment822246304469979_822619164432693:0.0.$right.0.$left.0.0.0:$comment-body.0.3.0"><span data-reactid=".1l.1:3:1:$comment822246304469979_822619164432693:0.0.$right.0.$left.0.0.0:$comment-body.0.3.0.$end:0:$28:0"><span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><br /></span></span></span></span></div>
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<span data-reactid=".1l.1:3:1:$comment822246304469979_822619164432693:0.0.$right.0.$left.0.0.0:$comment-body.0.3" style="background-color: #fafbfb; line-height: 15.359999656677246px;"><span data-reactid=".1l.1:3:1:$comment822246304469979_822619164432693:0.0.$right.0.$left.0.0.0:$comment-body.0.3.0"><span data-reactid=".1l.1:3:1:$comment822246304469979_822619164432693:0.0.$right.0.$left.0.0.0:$comment-body.0.3.0.$end:0:$28:0"><span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><b>#2 - We trust each other. </b></span></span></span></span></div>
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<span data-reactid=".1l.1:3:1:$comment822246304469979_822619164432693:0.0.$right.0.$left.0.0.0:$comment-body.0.3" style="background-color: #fafbfb; line-height: 15.359999656677246px;"><span data-reactid=".1l.1:3:1:$comment822246304469979_822619164432693:0.0.$right.0.$left.0.0.0:$comment-body.0.3.0"><span data-reactid=".1l.1:3:1:$comment822246304469979_822619164432693:0.0.$right.0.$left.0.0.0:$comment-body.0.3.0.$end:0:$28:0"><span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><br /></span></span></span></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><span style="background-color: #fafbfb; line-height: 15.359999656677246px;">My husband and I trust each other. We trust each other enough to know that, no matter how many children come into our home, we will make it work. We trust that we will be strong for each other, be selfless in our tasks, be hardworking and diligent, and do the best we can for each other and our children.</span></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><span style="background-color: #fafbfb; line-height: 15.359999656677246px;">We trust each other enough to know that if I need a "break" or he needs a "break", we will do what we can to make that happen. </span></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><span style="background-color: #fafbfb; line-height: 15.359999656677246px;">We trust each other enough to know that house and car and clothes and TVs don't matter in our relationship, and that if we have to be dirt poor to raise our children in a healthy and loving, stable home, we will not hold our conditions - what we have (debt) or don't have (home ownership) - against each other. </span></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><span style="background-color: #fafbfb; line-height: 15.359999656677246px;">We trust each other enough to know that we will both work. Hard. To raise our family. At this point, I make the home and he pays the bills. That may soon change when he goes back to finish college this fall (yes, it IS possible to return to college, even with four children). But we trust that we will do everything we can to make it work.<br /><br />MOST IMPORTANTLY, we trust that as many fights as we have, as hard as it gets here and there, and even that we will want to call it quits at times, we will ALWAYS be married. We CHOOSE to live a life where our children will never have to choose between us. We CHOOSE to make our marriage work. We CHOOSE 'til death do us part. We CHOOSE love, even when it doesn't "feel good." And we trust those choices, no matter what. (And y'all... we have been through some doozies. If anyone had "reason" to divorce, time and time again... I mean, for real.)</span></span></div>
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<span style="background-color: #fafbfb; font-family: Verdana, sans-serif; line-height: 15.359999656677246px;">We trust that we are in this life together. Period. </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><span style="background-color: #fafbfb; line-height: 15.359999656677246px;"><b>#3 - We trust ourselves. </b></span></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><span style="background-color: #fafbfb; line-height: 15.359999656677246px;">I trust that I am strong enough to carry this baby this pregnancy, even though my body may not believe me at times. I trust that I can control my emotions, my attitude, my patience, and my spare time. I fail at those things. A lot. But I trust that even when I fail, I am bright enough and invested enough and love my children and husband enough to bring myself back to, um, "normal."</span></span><br />
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><span style="background-color: #fafbfb; line-height: 15.359999656677246px;"><br />I trust that I will always forgive myself and my husband. I trust that I will always be true to myself and my husband. I trust that I will be the best wife and mother I can. Even though the best I can be really sucks sometimes.<br /><br />My husband trusts himself. He works more hours than any man I know. And we live comfortably for it. He trusts himself - that he will do anything he has to - work any odd jobs he has to - go to work four a.m. until two a.m., then go back at seven a.m., if he has to, to take care of our family. Those times, though rare, are very hard on all of us. </span></span></div>
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<span style="background-color: #fafbfb; font-family: Verdana, sans-serif; line-height: 15.359999656677246px;">He also trusts that he will always be true to me, and to forgive himself and me. </span><br />
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<span style="background-color: #fafbfb; font-family: Verdana, sans-serif; line-height: 15.359999656677246px;">He trusts himself, and I trust myself, and we make it work. The children have a father that comes home to play catch and jump on the trampoline with them. They have a mother that cooks every meal and encourages and nurtures them.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><span style="background-color: #fafbfb;"><span style="line-height: 15.359999656677246px;">I trust me. He trusts him. And when I start to fail in trusting myself, my husband reminds me that I should. And when he starts doubting himself, I build him up. Because we are both worth trusting our own strength. </span></span></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><span style="background-color: #fafbfb; line-height: 15.359999656677246px;"><b>And that's it. And all that TRUST allows us to have great HOPE for our future, and for the future of our children, and our children's children, and theirs to come. </b></span></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><span style="background-color: #fafbfb; line-height: 15.359999656677246px;">It's pretty simple, really. Trust God. Trust each other. Trust yourselves. That's what it comes down to. </span></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><span style="background-color: #fafbfb; line-height: 15.359999656677246px;">We are lower middle-class social-wise, but when it comes to family life, I'd say we are upper-high-class. </span></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><span style="background-color: #fafbfb; line-height: 15.359999656677246px;">Our children are modest and have excellent etiquette (most of the time). They are very well-behaved, have very pleasant personalities, are polite, and very bright. They are also silly and outrageous. They are creative and can keep themselves occupied for hours on end with zero electronics. No, we do not have an iPad. Or a DVD player in our car. I don't even have a single game on my phone. And yet, we travel, for three, four, six hours, semi-regularly, with little to no incident. </span></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><span style="background-color: #fafbfb; line-height: 15.359999656677246px;">They are not perfect. And neither are we. In fact, we're all far from it. But we are one beautiful family. And we intend on allowing any more children that God intends for this house - into it, whether through birth or adoption. Why would we not? We think our children are God's gift to the world! (Not in a gross, pompous "my kids are better than your kids" way. In a - "no, really, children are God's gift to the world, and each has his place" way.)</span></span></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjeHXE_qQPDwI-nRtZF6XQEHaP5nsP-75b0lKZW0sUkwdaShoWwyQLVkRaw_3s9jI4zGob3Nb3LGaFUF01_eDcif65T0ymJBHaoo_I4atQR_b0Q1j1s3HIJAsnaSRh4XIO9SmsLK5NKSt8/s1600/leaves.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjeHXE_qQPDwI-nRtZF6XQEHaP5nsP-75b0lKZW0sUkwdaShoWwyQLVkRaw_3s9jI4zGob3Nb3LGaFUF01_eDcif65T0ymJBHaoo_I4atQR_b0Q1j1s3HIJAsnaSRh4XIO9SmsLK5NKSt8/s1600/leaves.jpg" height="240" width="320" /></a></div>
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<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><span style="background-color: #fafbfb;"><span style="line-height: 15.359999656677246px;">No, we are not crazy (though if you stop by on a random weekday, it might seem like it). In fact, I'd say we are the sane ones. I know couples who are happy with no children, though they desperately want to be parents and have not yet been given the opportunity. I know parents who are fulfilled and grateful with one child or two, but who desperately want more. I know people who have five, six, and seven children, and who are happy where they are, but will take whatever comes. The thing all these people have in common? They trust God, trust their spouse, and trust themselves. </span></span></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><span style="background-color: #fafbfb;"><span style="line-height: 15.359999656677246px;">And, twenty years from now, when our homes are bursting at the seams with friends, and children, and grandchildren, and friends children and grandchildren, we will be filled with joy. There will never be "empty-nest syndrome." There will only be legacy after legacy, carrying on our names. </span></span></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><span style="background-color: #fafbfb;"><span style="line-height: 15.359999656677246px;">So, my friends in Christ, carry on.<br />Welcome your children, and trust God. Welcome your children, and trust each other (inluding your church community. They are the ones who step in when your trust in God, your spouse, or yourself, hits rocky ground and needs support). Welcome your children, and trust yourself. </span></span></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><span style="background-color: #fafbfb;"><span style="line-height: 15.359999656677246px;">Life is too short not to share it with little people who are, very literally, little pieces of you. </span></span></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><span style="background-color: #fafbfb;"><span style="line-height: 15.359999656677246px;">Live well.<br />Love. </span></span></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><span style="background-color: #fafbfb;"><span style="line-height: 15.359999656677246px;">J</span></span></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><span style="background-color: #fafbfb; line-height: 15.359999656677246px;">Disclaimer: I know that some people really cannot risk having more than a child or two, usually for medical reasons. Those, too, must trust God, trust each other, and trust themselves. God gives us each a gift of discernment.</span></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><span style="background-color: #fafbfb; line-height: 15.359999656677246px;">However, if those reasons sound like any of the following: We don't have enough bedrooms, we won't be able to afford cars or college for any more kids, I don't want to be 60 at my kid's graduation, our family already feels complete, there isn't room in my car for another car seat, etc., perhaps there is trust lacking - in God, spouse, or self. And there is room for healing there. I've lived it. :) </span></span></div>
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<span style="background-color: #fafbfb; font-family: Verdana, sans-serif; line-height: 15.359999656677246px;">Oh, I also know that there are those who have many children and cannot provide for any of them. I know that there are children who have different fathers and whose mother is in and out of prison. Those are the ones who give big families a "bad name." So, you can sit and trash talk them, and talk about how they need to be neutered... or you can learn to be a human being, and LOVE them. You can pray for them, feed them, provide for them, offer to babysit so mom can get a job. You can talk crap about the problem, or you can help be part of a growing, living, loving solution. Your choice. </span></div>
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Jessicahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07299811735368540596noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7266249040009188813.post-89527342601202865842014-05-08T13:05:00.001-07:002014-05-08T13:10:51.684-07:00Miracle Noodles? Errrrrrr........ what?<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">I don't like gross things. </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">I like a heckuva lot more than Husband - I can tolerate quinoa if I have to (though it really is NOT my favorite thing), but he will not. I like some "fancy" foods that he'd rather not try, and, though he does try new foods, I keep his diet pretty simple... food he likes. Like, meat. <br /><br />(Props to him for loving sushi rolls though. I mean, seaweed? Didn't think he'd ever be on board, but now our favorite date nights include delicious rolls! I cannot BELIEVE he loves them. Took a few tries, but he's hooked. :) )</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">Sooooo when I ordered a batch of these quote unquote "Miracle Noodles" - the shirataki kind - online, I decided I'd better cook them up without him knowing anything, and give them a test run, before I introduce them to our house. </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">They don't sound good. They have zero nutritional value. They are clear. And they come in this kind of stinky liquid, on the noodle shelf, unrefrigerated. Needless to say, I was a bit skeptical. </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">And yet, my first batch was SHEER SUCCESS. I didn't just tolerate them. I loved my meal! Going to cook them up tonight without saying anything to Husband, and we'll see if he notices anything, shall we say, amiss about his pasta. If not, I just found the perfect substitute to empty carbs. :) </span><br />
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://www.sensiblefoodie.ca/uploads/7/0/4/8/7048385/927153_orig.jpg">Are they all they claim to be?</a></td></tr>
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<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">How I cooked the noodles and the killer recipe I concocted:</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">Noodles: Follow package directions. Basically: drain, rinse, blanch, dry. </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">This is a new favorite "pasta" dish! I created it on the fly, and it took less than 30 minutes, start to finish. (I'm adjusting recipe to serve more than 1. Would probably serve 3 -4 with regular-sized portions...)</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">"Miracle Chicken Carbonara" :) </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">2 packages Miracle Noodles</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">4 - 6 slices bacon</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">1 - 2 large boneless, skinless chicken breast, diced. </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">Spices: (All are give or take, to your taste.)</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">1 tsp. salt </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">1/2 tsp. pepper</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">1/2 tsp. onion powder</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">1/2 tsp garlic powder </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">Prepare Miracle Noodles. Set aside to dry. </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">Fry bacon in a large skillet. Pull out bacon, set on paper towel to drip and cool. </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">While bacon cools, add diced chicken to hot skillet (into bacon drippings).</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><br />Add spices (add/eliminate spices to your taste. I sprinkled a little bit of dry Italian seasoning on mine, and it gave dish a great flavor). </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><br />Cook chicken until browned. </span><span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">While it's browning, pull bacon into small pieces, and cut up Miracle Noodles (they're pretty much one looooong noodle). </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">Add bacon and noodles to cooked chicken. </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><br />Add cottage cheese, and stir until melted. </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">Serve with a little chopped fresh parsley on top, and you've got a healthy and delicious "pasta" dish! </span></div>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Picture doesn't do this justice, but you get the drift. </td></tr>
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<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">Tonight I'll be trying a twist on this recipe, with shrimp. I'm going to attempt a Miracle Shrimp Carbonara with Bacon-Wrapped Scallops. Wish us luck, and I'll let you know if these noodles pass Geoff inspection.<br /><br />I'm also trying Kale Noodles tonight (in my dish), so a review of those to come. </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">(I was on bacon ration when I tried this recipe, so I used a couple pieces of cut up pepperoni, but still cooked the chicken in bacon drippings. Bacon will be better, and paleo-friendly. Though cottage cheese is not... whatever. It's a really great non-pasta but feels-like-pasta dish!)</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><br />Happy eating!<br />J</span></div>
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Jessicahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07299811735368540596noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7266249040009188813.post-19902282568724207062014-05-07T12:50:00.000-07:002014-05-07T13:15:50.162-07:00Lean and Green<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">Thought I'd share my favorite snack (or breakfast, or dessert, or even lunch on "one of those days") of the moment. With the weather getting warmer, we're digging smoothies in a BIG WAY in this house! </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">And not just smoothies. My husband is consuming a full cup of spinach before he even gets to work in the morning, so I'd say that's a win. And the kids are asking for spinach drinks (it's a little mind trick I've incorporated in the process), so we've got a win there, too. </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">I don't tell Geoff that there is spinach in his drink, but I think he knows. We just don't speak of it. Baby steps, y'all. <br /><br />The kids, however, hear me say "spinach" about a dozen times while we blend this thing up together. I want them to know greens, to not be afraid of greens, and even to LOVE greens. So they help me whip up this delicious treat, and I continue to grow their love of green. (Granted, my kids are really great eaters. We eat chef or taco salad at least once a week to use up leftover meat, eggs that need hard-boiling, etc. And they have few issues with veggies. But, the better foundation the better, and the more recipes they learn that incorporate veggies, the closer I get to mom of the year.) </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">Without further ado, </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">"Spinach Drinks" aka "A Smoothie"</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">Put 1/2 cup of Almond Milk (unsweetened, either vanilla or original) into the blender.<br />Add 1 full cup of spinach. Squish it in that cup. Don't skimp. Promise you can't taste (or see) it. </span></div>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjUeuFpwtXfwON7ee8hZgad628X5ZH2oGx30YPbdIUnMFtkqsKfk1FZyBlmC6jS8O0qqJXqYsLGkKumvutk3d9zaMH18cG6mAAW24Aq7U9EK3iPCliGGigaMxXCFNNZmF7T1eJ-lCdPa-U/s1600/IMG_20140507_100411.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjUeuFpwtXfwON7ee8hZgad628X5ZH2oGx30YPbdIUnMFtkqsKfk1FZyBlmC6jS8O0qqJXqYsLGkKumvutk3d9zaMH18cG6mAAW24Aq7U9EK3iPCliGGigaMxXCFNNZmF7T1eJ-lCdPa-U/s1600/IMG_20140507_100411.jpg" height="320" width="179" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Putting the milk in first will help keep it from getting all gunked up in the blades of the blender. </td></tr>
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<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">Blend very well.</span><br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEisEr1ccwtQEeoDrDprSj7OSzuA6pMs4CHB5HYThx6ejRKMx6r09nbu17ecO7Z7VdABju_ToV2SzC_PaXc-JDcDmbhtbmDPLk5s7pqE6XMX9ByBXiORgDahW-GUGY6qJ-FwDGMQt0yIGgo/s1600/IMG_20140507_100444.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEisEr1ccwtQEeoDrDprSj7OSzuA6pMs4CHB5HYThx6ejRKMx6r09nbu17ecO7Z7VdABju_ToV2SzC_PaXc-JDcDmbhtbmDPLk5s7pqE6XMX9ByBXiORgDahW-GUGY6qJ-FwDGMQt0yIGgo/s1600/IMG_20140507_100444.jpg" height="320" width="180" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Let the kids watch this part, so they see that green mucus-looking stuff can actually be delicious.</td></tr>
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<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">Add whatever fresh fruit you like (we used 4 strawberries, but you could put in a banana, pineapple, whatev.) and blend well. </span></div>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhNbSbUDlKsGgSBpFs0WRJTjttVhNRVwLKBaVkQhTdFHMGA6WevayyA_UKPVp0LIHrs-SPvmfMEnY2dig1yUY3NSLrHzuCFnwtfPeTEXKr931rm8zk3jyipVkZhGbaviN5SfEaFRdVqzuA/s1600/IMG_20140507_100658.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhNbSbUDlKsGgSBpFs0WRJTjttVhNRVwLKBaVkQhTdFHMGA6WevayyA_UKPVp0LIHrs-SPvmfMEnY2dig1yUY3NSLrHzuCFnwtfPeTEXKr931rm8zk3jyipVkZhGbaviN5SfEaFRdVqzuA/s1600/IMG_20140507_100658.jpg" height="320" width="180" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Let them drop the berries in the top. It's exciting. </td></tr>
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<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">Add 1 cup frozen blueberries. (I buy the enormous bag, cheaper and goes further) Blend well. </span></div>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgyyN8Terg1yns1QMiRnugrfLCM0lWaZjSNcphyphenhyphen2ookGQfQga4xpJddcBZKSVd2I_yR0xiW_bfRoyeAW4J98jX3yrQcb7azae79XrG2b29axCH5-h1ZfYo7Kn1141DelmIQAMDc37EgSWU/s1600/IMG_20140507_100818.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgyyN8Terg1yns1QMiRnugrfLCM0lWaZjSNcphyphenhyphen2ookGQfQga4xpJddcBZKSVd2I_yR0xiW_bfRoyeAW4J98jX3yrQcb7azae79XrG2b29axCH5-h1ZfYo7Kn1141DelmIQAMDc37EgSWU/s1600/IMG_20140507_100818.jpg" height="320" width="243" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Beware sticky little fingers. Oh, who am I kidding? Let them have all they want in a separate bowl. </td></tr>
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<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">At this point, it's too thick to blend, so add 1/2 cup cold water, stir around a little with a spoon, then blend well. </span></div>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhq2eCQmQEapHaAt8Sk7h0G8V6VIjyF9CeALE1EfkScVNQpGVaGsK2yPA9qkdRpO3xL8GwI9LLAEr9eUUjWmyEgXYhCeHQsBUh91q0pIta8yw0PpGMtPA0C9yv4YLNpUlS7m-QyLypznek/s1600/IMG_20140507_100901.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhq2eCQmQEapHaAt8Sk7h0G8V6VIjyF9CeALE1EfkScVNQpGVaGsK2yPA9qkdRpO3xL8GwI9LLAEr9eUUjWmyEgXYhCeHQsBUh91q0pIta8yw0PpGMtPA0C9yv4YLNpUlS7m-QyLypznek/s1600/IMG_20140507_100901.jpg" height="320" width="180" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Covering ears is optional. </td></tr>
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<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">While concoction is blending, open the top hole (or stop and take top off if you don't have that kind of blender) and add a good squeeze of honey. Only a little will do, but I probably end up using a couple Tablespoons, depending on how long I feel like squeezing the bottle.<br /><br />Blend well. </span></div>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiXq9B799BF9eRgreTnk1A899b8gfF35Cu67LS7Uk5GxfqfQD_X76cRVydjlMNYbJzrEnFNPRN01ew-dW6FK69VrkYShw_w9nTM0d-uSgb6E_BRQjDLk4FKzaFBIy0QW8oh4khk8r1q-B8/s1600/IMG_20140507_101052.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiXq9B799BF9eRgreTnk1A899b8gfF35Cu67LS7Uk5GxfqfQD_X76cRVydjlMNYbJzrEnFNPRN01ew-dW6FK69VrkYShw_w9nTM0d-uSgb6E_BRQjDLk4FKzaFBIy0QW8oh4khk8r1q-B8/s1600/IMG_20140507_101052.jpg" height="320" width="180" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Forget Stevia or Splenda or any of that yucky stuff. Honey is your friend. </td></tr>
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<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">And, viola. Sweet, dark purple, delicious healthy goodness. Thank you, earth, for making all the good things. </span></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEifbSqPtGSkzi9v7Z2i1SPmvjq9NTluFhz4UIp6C450n6PIlpTaNd1fHrRKmZigZBq-gW9GUOu2xgSsyHQJaEEBTBQuZtJEJrt0pNMY9CY63wnem6YNH5Y1m2z-x0RmIOviH7XjVAdlYgg/s1600/IMG_20140507_101321.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEifbSqPtGSkzi9v7Z2i1SPmvjq9NTluFhz4UIp6C450n6PIlpTaNd1fHrRKmZigZBq-gW9GUOu2xgSsyHQJaEEBTBQuZtJEJrt0pNMY9CY63wnem6YNH5Y1m2z-x0RmIOviH7XjVAdlYgg/s1600/IMG_20140507_101321.jpg" height="180" width="320" /></a></div>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhW3ur50c9Av27_If8JcLnG5Jn-7KGHT8RhbDp3IlmXtCS63uqPgUk8Gyl_EtVX0ARabb4ZvzULYhDzrbpgZpYRjqBnI4S8whQL4GfS7TdbLycZU-SEW1OS1FPvUp5r3rx8ybaMmxnoztM/s1600/IMG_20140507_101511.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhW3ur50c9Av27_If8JcLnG5Jn-7KGHT8RhbDp3IlmXtCS63uqPgUk8Gyl_EtVX0ARabb4ZvzULYhDzrbpgZpYRjqBnI4S8whQL4GfS7TdbLycZU-SEW1OS1FPvUp5r3rx8ybaMmxnoztM/s1600/IMG_20140507_101511.jpg" height="320" width="180" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Blue tongues. Smoothies are fun. </td></tr>
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<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><br /></span><span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">Happy snacking! </span><br />
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">J</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">Aaaaand, just for some added nutritional info... </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">WHFoods.com is a great source of info for which foods are good, and why. That said...</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">Spinach is, like, THE BEST food for you. Popeye knew his stuff. It's chock full of vitamins K, A, C, and all sorts of other vitamins and minerals, as well as antioxidants, </span><span style="background-color: white;"><span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">glycoglycerolipids (</span><a href="http://www.whfoods.com/genpage.php?tname=foodspice&dbid=43" style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">which studies are finding can help protect the lining of the digestive tract from damage — especially damage related to unwanted inflammation</a><span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">), beta-carotene, and pretty much all things good for you. Studies of leafy greens dubbed spinach the only one that showed "significant protection" against some cancers, namely prostate cancer (see previous link, or search sources for yourself). </span><br /><br /><span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">Blueberries are SUPER high in antioxidants, and studies are showing they can even improve memory. Go </span><a href="http://www.whfoods.com/genpage.php?tname=foodspice&dbid=8" style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">here</a><span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"> to read about their straight goodness. </span><br /><br /><span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">Almond Milk (make sure it's the unsweet kind) is a GREAT substitute for cow's milk. It has all the good stuff, without the fat, and without the hard-to-digest proteins and lactose. Granted, it is very low in protein, unlike cow's milk, so make sure you are getting your protein in. (Most adults have difficulty digesting cow's milk. Do you realize that humans are the only mammals that drink milk after they're weened? That's weird, right?)</span><br /><br /><span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">Honey is the perfect sugar substitute. I was all about agave nectar there for a minute a while back, but then started reading all kinds of info about how it's NOT actually very good for you... it's not a natural sweetener, contains more fructose than HFCS, and there is lots of other non-flattering crud about it. You can read a little </span><a href="http://www.foodrenegade.com/agave-nectar-good-or-bad/" style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">here </a><span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">if you want. </span></span></div>
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<span style="background-color: white;"><span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">Basically, I choose honey. It's been around since the beginning of bees, it's naturally made (how much more natural can you get than a bee sipping flowers then vomiting into a hive?), you can get local honey that will help you develop immunity to different diseases, and it's sweet, natural, and even GOOD for you. (Make sure nothing is added. Companies keep adding HFCS to EVERYTHING these days, so just check labels. Pure honey is NOT expensive or hard to come by. You might even know a beekeeper, so, score if so.) Check out </span><a href="http://www.care2.com/greenliving/10-health-benefits-of-honey.html" style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">this info</a><span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"> on that golden and delicious bee puke. </span><br /><br /><span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">All in all, you can't go wrong with this tasty treat. Try it with those you love!</span></span></div>
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<span style="background-color: white;"><span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">Adios!</span></span></div>
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Jessicahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07299811735368540596noreply@blogger.com5tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7266249040009188813.post-75761458241041559512014-05-06T13:39:00.004-07:002014-05-06T13:39:39.707-07:00Good Wife. Day One and a Half. <span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">Of course, as soon as I get Husband on board with a healthy change (he got himself on board, really), life throws a curve ball. </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">He got a call that he had to be at work at FIVE a.m. today, which meant that if I was going to send him with a fresh and healthy breakfast, I would have to be up at FOUR O'CLOCK. </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">Last night I put together his hefty and healthy delicious lunch (leftovers from dinner. Grilled chicken, avocado, bacon, all mixed together with a spoonful of Greek yogurt. DEEEELISH - plus a salad, and portioned out snacks of beef jerky, and a nut mix with almonds, pecans, walnuts, and cashews. Yes.). </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">But this morning, when my alarm rang, I stayed in bed and gave myself every. single. reason not to get up and cook him breakfast. Mind you, he would have let me sleep. He won't wake me up in the morning, even if he knows it means the difference in taking a lunch and not eating for the entire day. Man knows I love my sleep. </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">By the grace of a good and loving God, good wife conscience prevailed, and I pulled myself out of bed. Cooked up some eggs with a little sausage and this awesome onion/pepper mix I picked up in the frozen aisle yesterday, threw it in a thermos, and sent him on his way with a perfect, hot breakfast and a cold spinach (don't tell him there was spinach in it), raspberry, banana, strawberry smoothie, by 4:30 a.m. </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">He has texted me a couple times today in gratitude. He wasn't hungry. And he wasn't forced to eat food that made him feel bad. I cannot believe I haven't been feeding him for so long! </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">I told him that, in order for this to work in his favor, he HAS to make me get up in the morning, no matter what. I hope I can do it on my own, but prayers for this endeavor are appreciated. :)<br /><br />God loves good food, and God loves you.<br />Peace!<br />J</span>Jessicahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07299811735368540596noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7266249040009188813.post-49948121354987387422014-05-05T18:34:00.002-07:002014-05-05T18:34:50.250-07:00Open the Door, <span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">And let in NUMBER FOUR! </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">February 19, 2014, I got a really surprising and exciting birthday present.<br /><br />Kelly Baby number four, gracing our home later this year!<br /><br />Can't wait to meet the little! <3</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">Probably another pregnancy blog post (or twenty) to follow. :) </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">God is good! </span>Jessicahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07299811735368540596noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7266249040009188813.post-15660422359456793682014-05-05T18:32:00.003-07:002014-05-05T18:32:37.616-07:00Dear Fat Girl, You're a Bad Wife. <span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">Okay, so that's a LIIIIIITTLE harsh. I'm not TOTALLY fat, nor am I a bad wife. But, admittedly, I'm a little of both. </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">And poor Geoffry has suffered. </span><br />
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">Not only because I feel fat. I mean, sure, he suffers there. Have you ever seen a girl try on thirty-five outfits, only to feel like a whale in each one, throw them all about the room, then fall into fetal position in the middle of the floor while rocking and wailing? No? Oh.... me either....................... (insert innocent whistle here. You know the one.)</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">I've been working on that one. I hate self-deprecation. I hate when I hear people hate on themselves, and I would NEVER want my daughter to hear a childish fit like that from her mother and think it's okay to have self-image issues. Plain and simple: it is NOT okay. And I get it. One of my many attempts at self-improvement.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">I'm not obese (well, according to all the charts I am, but they're bogus. My wrist bones are as thick as a caveman's, and if I were to weigh what those stupid charts think I should, I would be emaciated). But I am, as I've dubbed it, "bigger than I'd like." I am bigger than I'd like for two reasons. <br /> 1. I don't exercise enough.<br /> 2. I eat crappy food. </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">Simple.<br /><br />Fact: When I eat a healthy diet (not to be confused with "when I diet." You shouldn't "diet." You should just eat healthy all the time, aka, eat a balanced and healthy diet), I lose weight. My skin clears up. My attitude improves. My self image improves.<br /><br />Fact: When I eat healthy and add exercise, the sky is the limit. I pretty much rock.<br /></span><br />
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">Fact: When I ONLY exercise, and don't eat a healthy diet, jack crap happens. </span><br />
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><br />Conclusion: I should eat a healthy, balanced diet. All the time. And I should exercise. Then, I won't feel like crap, physically or mentally.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">I know what you're thinking (because I'm not only bigger than I'd like, I'm also psychic): "How does this make Fat Girl a bad wife?"<br /><br />Simple. I stay home, and Husband works. He doesn't just work, he WO-ORKS. He leaves every day at about six in the morning, and MIGHT be home for dinner, if we're lucky. But this "home for dinner" thing is a new development since we decided we're moving back to our home town (another post later). For the last, oh, year, my children were lucky to see their dad once a week, and hopefully on Sundays.<br /><br />He would leave for work in the middle of the night, or early morning, and not come home until midnight. He was working 80 to 90-hour weeks, in a piece of equipment, with no refrigerator or microwave.<br /><br />For some time I was sending him with AT LEAST a sandwich, chips, and an apple for the day. But then, he started leaving earlier, and coming home later, and somewhere along the way, I stopped waking up at five a.m. or four a.m. or two a.m. to make sure he had food. I didn't make it the night before, either, because, well, I was lazy? I was tired?<br /><br />I was both. Lazy and tired. I was taking care of two toddlers and a nine year old on my own, and I was tired. But I was also catching up on Revenge and any other given crapTV, being a lazy lonely loser, waiting for him to come home, stuffing my face with Thin Mints and Chocolate Peanut Butter ice cream (OMG it's good). Lazy.<br /><br />And he started living off Mountain Dew and Allsups fried burritos.<br /><br />Dear Fat Girl, <br />You're a bad wife.<br />Sincerely,<br />Your Conscience.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">(All you haters and feminazis, NO, he should not have to make his own lunch. I am more than a stay-at-home-mom. I am a HOME MAKER. His food is part of my job. A big part. Part of making a home. How can Husband be a good provider if he's fueled by three hours of sleep, Mountain Dew, and a Fried Apple Pie? If you'd like to discuss this further, go ahead and comment, and I'll blow your mind with homemaker philosophy.)<br /><br />Husband has suffered physically because of my lack of spousal support, and today, that changes. Mind you, I've tried to get him to eat healthy before, to no avail. I think he thinks eating right means no good food, and nothing but dry spinach and roasted asparagus and brussel sprouts and kale chips (the thought of any of those things makes him want to gag). Probably because I really like that stuff and always work it in to my diet when I'm on a health kick, and even when I'm not. He will always eat what I serve him at dinner, but on work hours, it's quick and convenient, and sugar, sugar, sugar.<br /><br />Poor guy has packed on a few around the middle, and, though I love him through "thick and thin" (I don't think we really knew what that meant until we started getting older and packing on a few here and there), he's not so happy about it.<br /><br />And I feel TERRIBLE!<br /><br />Alas, today is a new day!<br /><br />Husband is ready to make a healthy change, and I am really, really happy about it! It means a household change, and I could not be more excited. </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">Before, when I was very diligent about my eating habits, I felt like I was in it alone. And I'm kind of a group-effort and accountability kind of girl. So, I failed, again, and again, and again. I need a partner, or at least someone to take care of and hold accountable, in order to make this whole healthy lifestyle work. I'm lame like that. I have always been good about keeping my kids healthy and on a balanced diet, but when it comes to filling or limiting myself with the good or the bad, I have no one to tell me NO! Now, perhaps with my partner on board, we'll see true progress.<br /><br />I told the man that in order for this whole thing to work, he's going to have to eat vegetables, and he AGREED! This is HUGE, people! From here I solemnly swear not to serve him brussel sprouts, asparagus, or cooked spinach (that is not hidden into his food), but truly, I am terribly excited about this development. <br /><br />I cooked a delicious and healthy meal tonight, and we're off to a healthy start. </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">Wish us luck!<br /><br />Sincerely,<br />Fat Girl (trying to be a better wife!)<br /><br /></span>Jessicahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07299811735368540596noreply@blogger.com5tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7266249040009188813.post-55988176100302520642014-03-07T14:14:00.002-08:002014-03-07T14:14:38.284-08:00Why Can't I Finish What I Sta...<span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;">I have a problem. <br />I don't follow through. </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;">I start things, GREAT THINGS, and then.... rarely finish them. Refer to my <a href="http://funlittlehouse.blogspot.com/2013/08/im-tad-oc-and-add.html">first post</a> about my A.D.D. if you must. I think that plays in, in a significant way. Now, I've never been clinically diagnosed, and if I <i>were</i> diagnosed, it would probably read something more like "Scatterbrained with ADHD Tendencies." But, fact is, I just... can't. finish. <br /><br />It is physical. It is mental. It is situational. I get blocked. Like writer's block, but with life. (Unless I'm talking about writing, in which case it is, sometimes, writer's block.)<br /><br />This ails me. </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;">Thirty Day Whole 30 challenge? I lasted 21 days. </span><br />
<span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;">Blog? Speaks for itself. </span><br />
<span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;">House Cleaning Challenge I created for myself? I cleaned doorknobs, light switches, and trash cans. </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;">My book? Halfway finished. </span><br />
<span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;">Lent? I failed my promise on day one. And day two. </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;">I've lasted in the important things: marriage, childbearing, etc. But all the rest? Not even close. I suppose it is most important to do those things that matter most. And, when it comes to work, I always, always make deadlines and carry out tasks I begin. <br /><br />But the things I do to better myself: write, read (I don't even start books anymore, because those I actually DO finish, but I neglect every other responsibility in my life), eat clean, exercise, fast, pray... I always start out with gusto, and then, little by little, I whimper away, into nothingness. <br /><br />I have an exercise dance studio begun. In my head, and in a handful of routines I written out. </span><br />
<span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;">I have a daycare opened, theoretically. </span><br />
<span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;">I have a book written, somewhere. And it's really, pretty good! </span><br />
<span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;">I started a business, and haven't even done anything with THAT. And I LOVE that. <br /><br />I try to convince myself that it is because job number one is Mom. And that all the rest will fall into place when and where it is supposed to. Today, I'll rest with that, not beat myself up... and pick up on one of these many deserted things - my blog. :)</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;">Love and all that jazz. <br />J</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"><br /></span>Jessicahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07299811735368540596noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7266249040009188813.post-24647585831381213722014-01-27T17:33:00.000-08:002014-01-27T17:33:49.565-08:00Confessions. Welp, I'm on day 19 of my Whole30. But really, I'm on day One. Because yesterday, I ate like a king. A poor king with little time, but a king.<br />
<br />
Here is the story.<br />
<br />
I. Was. Exhausted. I know it's no excuse, but I was soooo tired! After getting the kids home after Mass, cleaning up dishes from the night before, and preparing their lunch, I was HUNGRY, and TIRED, Y'ALL!<br />
<br />
For the last two+ weeks I have been making myself a modified, if not completely different, meal than my kids. My husband, too, you say? No, not my husband. Because he has not been here. In a week. I have only seen him late at night, and in the morning he is gone before I awake. And yesterday, he got called in to work before Mass. He came with us, but then I had to zip him home to get his truck, then zip back to the church to finish out my Sunday School class.<br />
<br />
This single mom of toddlers thing ain't for wussies. Even when you get to stay at home.<br />
<br />
Soooo, wah, wah, wah, I ate a half a quesadilla for lunch. Which, really, is quite good, considering I usually could scarf an entire one, no problem.<br />
<br />
For dinner, Husband was actually home at a reasonable hour and, to treat me to not having to cook or wash dishes, and to get me out of the house (I have been cooped up with not an ounce of adult conversation all week), he took us out to eat. And eat, I did. I ate a sushi roll, rice and all, dipped in soy sauce. And I don't regret it one bit.<br />
<br />
I needed to get out of the house as much as I wanted that sushi roll. It was delicious. <br /><br />Repercussions? Today my gut was LIVID! I woke up with heartburn and, um, other issues. I messed up my day 18, but today I've been on point. In fact, eating a bit rotten yesterday (not rotten considering my old standards, just not clean like I have been) gave me the urge to work it off, so I even exercised! I threw in a P90X Cardio DVD that I mysteriously had (I seriously have no idea where it came from. If it is yours, I will mail it to you), and completed it.<br />
<br />
I almost threw up toward the end, and for about an hour and a half afterward, and I was unable to eat lunch. I also found myself halfway through asking my 4 year-old son if he knows what to do if Momma passes out and doesn't wake up. Scary? Yeah, imagine how I felt. I told him to just call Daddy if I'm out.<br />
<br />
So, back on track. Day 19. Or one, depending on how you look at it. I think I'll just go with day 19, and do 31 days. It completely defeats the point of the Whole30 (which is to completely clean out the system), but I still feel good about it.<br />
<br />And that is my confession. Now, to sit with my children and hug them. <br />
<br />Live well, eat well. <br />JJessicahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07299811735368540596noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7266249040009188813.post-28795155090247747202014-01-27T10:22:00.004-08:002014-01-27T10:28:55.093-08:00Twenty-One and Done: Twenty-One Steps to Your Better Home!<!--[if gte mso 9]><xml>
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<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"><b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-size: 28pt; line-height: 115%;">TWENTY-ONE
and DONE:</span></b><b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-size: 28.0pt; line-height: 115%;"><br /><span style="font-size: large;">twenty-one steps to your better home!</span></span></b></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-size: 28.0pt; line-height: 115%;">
</span></b><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"><b><span style="line-height: 115%;">a cleaning and organizing challenge</span></b></span></span><br />
<span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"><b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-size: 22.0pt; line-height: 115%;"><br /></span></b></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 115%;"><b><span style="font-size: large;">Welcome to
the challenge! </span></b>First things first, these are separated into TASKS, not DAYS.
Why? Because we all have different schedules, house sizes, and dependents. Lots
of little boys in the house? Might take you a couple days to accomplish some of
these. Toddlers? Same thing. Your work load intense? Might have to do one every
other day or so. Big house? Might take longer. Clean freak? Some of these will just be touch-ups for you. </span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 115%;">Whatever your situation, do them as you can, but make sure you do some of one task
every single day, or set aside a chunk of time on a down day or a Saturday! <b>If
you start one, finish it.</b> Even if it takes you a week. <b>Don’t move on to the
next until the one you started is done!</b> And, most importantly, don’t neglect
your other responsibilities (husband, children, work, daily tasks like cooking,
dishes, laundry, etc.). </span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;">
</span><br />
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 115%;">Next, don’t
let this task list freak you out. Don’t read it all at once. Just take it one
task at a time. It’s totally do-able. </span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;">
</span><br />
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"><b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 115%;">IMPORTANT:</span></b><span style="font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 115%;"> Sing, whistle, or blare music while
you are cleaning. Every time. </span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;">
</span><br />
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;"><span style="font-size: large;">YOU CAN DO
IT! </span>THIS is NOT hard, and there is NO TIME LIMIT. Just devote a little time, maybe 30 minutes or an hour a
day… or a few hours on Saturday. Why wait until Spring Cleaning to get all of
it done? Just do a little here and there, and you’ll never have to spend days
and days trying to shove it all in. Get it done before Spring Break and just
ENJOY your break! </span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;">
</span><br />
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;"><b>Tasks are
labeled by intensity</b> on a level of 1 – 5.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>If it is labeled (1), it should only take about an hour or so (without interruptions). The higher the number, the bigger the task. Skip around the task list if
necessary. Just make sure you see whatever task you’re on to completion before
starting the next! (That way you don’t go scattered like I do, and end up never
finishing ANY of them!) Ones that are labeled with a hyphen (2-4) depend on
house size, household size, number of rooms, etc. Bigger house or more people,
expect it to be on the higher end of the scale. </span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;">
</span><br />
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"><b><span style="font-size: large;">Before you start, you will need: </span></b><br />an old <b>toothbrush</b>, <b><br />glass
cleaner</b> (I suggest the foaming one in the white can with the little blue maid
on it), <b><br />wood soap</b> (like Murphy’s Oil Soap or another gentle wood cleanser), <br />a
<b>strong cleaner</b> (I use Pine Sol and bleach. If you don’t like chemicals, get a
natural cleaner but make sure it is good!), <b><br />Lysol</b> spray, <b><br />carpet cleaner</b> (409 or SpotShot or
something of the sort. You can also just use <b>vinegar</b> and water!), <br />ten little
<b>plastic baskets</b> from Dollar Tree for organizing drawers or cabinets (can get
varied sizes, shapes, colors. How exciting!). </span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;">
</span><br />
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"><b>Note:</b> Vinegar and water makes an EXCELLENT cleaning agent
for almost anything. It just stinks. But don’t worry, the smell will go away.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"><b>IMPORTANT: </b>Do ONE task at a time, until completion! If you notice something that needs to be done along the way, make a list for yourself! Or, after you finish the task you're on, insert your new task, finish it, then get back to the list! (But the task you're on might be on the list already, so make sure you mark it off if you do it!)</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;">
</span><br />
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"><b><span style="font-size: 28pt; line-height: 115%;">Heeeere weeeee gooooo!</span></b></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;">
</span><br />
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"><b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 115%;">Task One (1):</span></b> Clean all
the doorknobs in the house. Clean around them. If the doors need a good scrub,
might as well do that while you’re there. Spray them with Lysol as you finish cleaning each one. </span><br />
</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
</div>
<span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;">
</span><br />
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"><b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 115%;">Task Two (1):</span></b> Clean all
the trash cans. Scrub the outside of them, and let some PineSol or Bleach or
whatever cleaner you use sit in the bottom of them before rinsing them out,
drying them off, and putting them back where they belong and putting a bag in!
(No letting them sit outside until tomorrow!) Wash the walls and floor around the kitchen trash, especially. You know it gets gross. </span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"> </span></div>
<span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;">
</span><br />
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"><b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 115%;">Task Three (1):</span></b> Dining
room chairs. If you have small children, this may require you to use a
toothpick or toothbrush to scrub a little. Remember to clean each crevice, and the
seats. Use soap that will not damage the wood or metal! </span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;">
</span><br />
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"><b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 115%;">Task Four (1):</span></b> Kitchen
cabinet doors. Again, a toothpick or toothbrush might be in order. Use wood
soap so you don’t damage them! </span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;">
</span><br />
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"><b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 115%;">Task Five (3):</span></b> Those spots
on the carpet? Scrub them out. Step on them with a dry towel until they are
dry! (Otherwise they’ll come back!) </span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;">
</span><br />
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"><b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 115%;">Task Six (3):</span></b> Bathroom drawers.
Organize them! Wipe them down, inside and out. (This one might have to be split
into two days, depending on how many bathrooms, and people, you have in your
house!)</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;">
</span><br />
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"><b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 115%;">Task Seven (3):</span></b> Bathroom
cabinets. Organize them! Get RID of the trash and loose items. Put all the
gross, tattered towels into a special drawer for rags (laundry room, under the
kitchen sink…. if you don’t already have a “rag” drawer, make one. Ain’t nobody
got space for those embarrassing towels to be in the bathroom.)</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;">
</span><br />
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"><b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 115%;">Task Eight (5):</span></b> Laundry
Room. Enough said. Don’t cut corners, and make. it. perfect. (Again, two or
three days might be in order. This task requires that all laundry be cleaned,
folded, hung up, and distributed. This task includes organizing laundry room
drawers and cabinets. Might actually be an all-week task if your laundry room
is a “catch all.”)</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;">
</span><br />
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"><b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 115%;">Task Nine (2):</span></b> Kitchen
counters. Get all the crap that accumulates on the counters, and put it in its place.
It doesn’t have a place? Make one, or THROW IT AWAY! If you need to get a
couple small plastic baskets from Dollar Tree, and put your chapstick and odds
n ends in one, your medicine in another, pens and pencils in another. These baskets
can go in your cabinet, or in a drawer. All that paper? Put it in manila folders
or your filing cabinet, display it on the fridge, or THROW IT AWAY!</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;">
</span><br />
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"><b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 115%;">Task Ten (2-3):</span></b> Kitchen
cabinets (inside). Organize them. Clean them. Wipe down shelves inside (the
outsides are already clean from task four! Score!). Get rid of expired
food/cans/pasta noodles. </span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;">
</span><br />
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"><b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 115%;">Task Eleven (3):</span></b> Entertainment
center. Inside and out. Clean, dust, organize. Put movies in their correct
case. Get rid of the uber-scratched ones. </span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;">
</span><br />
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"><b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 115%;">Task Twelve (1-2):</span></b> Junk
drawers! Time to go through and organize and throw away! Only one junk drawer?
Good for you. This will be easy. More than one? Get after it. (Again, those
little baskets from Dollar Tree are a cheap and exceptional organizing tool!)</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;">
</span><br />
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"><b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 115%;">Task Thirteen (2-4):</span></b>
Kitchen baseboards, and under cabinets. Pull out the fridge and stove, if
applicable. Hands. Knees. Toothbrush. Cleaner in a bowl. Scrub all around the
bottom of those cabinets. And under the fridge and stove? Yes. You will be glad
you did. </span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;">
</span><br />
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"><b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 115%;">Task Fourteen (?):</span></b> THAT
place. Choose that place in your house that is constantly the catch-all for
bills, schoolwork, paperwork. (Bookshelf, table, desk, etc.). Organize it. Dust
it/Clean it. </span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;">
</span><br />
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"><b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 115%;">Task Fifteen (2-4):</span></b> Vents
and fans. Dust all the vents, and wipe down the blades on all fans in the
house. Standing, box, ceiling, you name it. </span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;">
</span><br />
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"><b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 115%;">Task Sixteen (3):</span></b> Light
fixtures. Take off the cover on all your ceiling or standing light fixtures.
Wash them. Put them back on! (Please be careful to not electrocute yourself.)</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;">
</span><br />
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"><b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 115%;">Task Seventeen (2-5):</span></b>
Baseboards. This will count as your workout for the day. Hands and knees,
vacuum cleaner, rag and bowl ‘o’ soap. Tackle the baseboards. For the ENTIRE
HOUSE. </span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;">
</span><br />
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"><b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 115%;">Task Eighteen (2-5):</span></b> Windows
and mirrors! All of them. Yes, you heard me. Inside, and out! You can do it! (You KNOW it needs to be done!) Open the windows and vacuum. (If you live in West Texas, this might up this one's intensity to a five!) Clean the inside and outside of the windows. (Again, if you live in West Texas, DO NOT do this on a windy day.)</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;">
</span><br />
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"><b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 115%;">Task Nineteen (1):</span></b> Blinds.
Dust them. If you need to wipe them, do it. (Like, for instance, if they have
fly or moth guts all over them from this summer.) If you want to intensify this
one (2-4), take down really dirty blinds and soak them in the tub with a little
bleach for a couple hours. Clean blinds make more of a difference than you
realize!</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;">
</span><br />
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"><b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 115%;">Task Twenty (2):</span></b> Couch.
Take off cushions and wash them if this is an option and if it is necessary. If
not, spot clean seats and arm rests (make sure you have the right cleaner. Or
just use a little vinegar and water.). Vacuum under the cushions!</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;">
</span><br />
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"><b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 115%;">Task Twenty-One (3):</span></b> Clean
your washer and dryer. Wash the lint trap (make sure it’s dry before you put it
back), wipe them down, inside and out. Pull them out and sweep/mop under them. </span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;">
</span><br />
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"><b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 115%;">Congratulations! You’re done! Enjoy
your super clean and organized house! <br />
Or, if you feel the need, start over. Happy housekeeping!</span></b></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 115%;">USE THIS SPACE!</span> <br />
List other things that need attention that you notice along the way! Need to
clean out your closet or bedroom drawers? Kids’ closets and drawers? Shoes? Jewelry box? Toy chest?
Storage room? Write it down, and when these 21 are done, DO IT!</span></div>
Jessicahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07299811735368540596noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7266249040009188813.post-40078649984976600042014-01-22T17:06:00.002-08:002014-01-22T17:06:27.758-08:00TWO WEEKS. <span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;">And still going <strike>strong</strike>. Yesterday I almost thought, "meh, I made it halfway, that's pretty good. Might as well have juuuuuust oooooone biiiiite of pepperoni pizza."<br /><br />And yet, aside from that ham, and a couple bites of my pulp bread yesterday (that one very honestly was to test it. I was sooo curious about if it was worth the time and energy it took, and whether I could give away one of the loaves!), I've stayed the course. </span><br />
<span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;">The thing I find at this point is that I don't know that I've been eating <i>enough</i>. Weird. I am trying to up my intake a bit, because I can feel it in my back, and I feel a bit weak. But though I feel weak, my energy levels are through the roof at some points! <br /><br />Last night at ten o'clock, after I took a toothpick and washcloth to the grout on my tile countertops, I was on my knees scrubbing the kitchen cabinets and scraping the grooves with a toothpick. Jeff asked me if I was on drugs. I told him I was high on life. And I am. :)</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;">But MAN, this girl needs to eat! I don't know what to do with myself, to hear my stomach growl and wonder if I ate lunch. I eat two eggs every morning, religiously. Sometimes I add mushrooms and spinach, or chives or green onion, or red pepper. Occasionally I'll add a half grapefruit or orange/apple. So I know I am getting that in every day. But there have been a couple days that it is dinner time and I realize I've missed lunch. (Don't worry. This has really only happened like two days.)<br /><br />I assure you it is unintentional. And, for the first time in a very long time, I am having to intentionally eat because I am actually NOT starving. all. day. long. I have to intentionally eat a salad for lunch (which I did today, topped with steak and red wine vinegar), and make a good dinner. And that feels pretty good. To eat to live, rather than live to eat. <br /><br />I have made a discovery that ails me, so. I HATE microwave/reheated chicken. It is revolting! It tastes like <strike>I HAD SOMETHING GROSS WRITTEN HERE BUT DELETED IT TO SPARE YOU</strike> or something. So, now I have to start making my chicken one piece at a time and no leftovers, which is really annoying. Alas, I will do it. I'm already making myself a different meal than the rest of my family for the most part, anyway. <br /><br />Last night I passed on Domino's pizza. It was my errand day, and took longer than expected, so I picked up a pizza on the way home. It smelled so amazing. I ate leftover ratatouille. I think. I don't really remember what I ate, so I guess the meal wasn't to die for. <br /> </span><br />
<span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;">But tonight, I created something amazing. Will share. </span><br />
<span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;">1 chicken breast, cooked in pan with a little coconut oil, salt, pepper, garlic powder. Cut up into tiny pieces when done. <br />Add 1 avocado, 1 roasted red bell pepper, diced (I roasted in the broiler on 400 for about 10 minutes), a little salt and pepper, and a small scoop of homemade mayo that I learned how to make on YouTube and have been gathering ingredients for, little by little, for the last week. <br /><br />Result: DELICIOUS. Even my little 2 year old liked it. Win! <br />(I uploaded a picture but it looked disgusting in the photo. Just imagine the green and red all pretty with the chicken. Mmmmm.)<br /></span><br />
<span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;">I decided, against my better judgement, to do a 2 week weigh since I'd weighed at one week. <br />It tells me, tonight, that I have lost 12 pounds. I know it could just be redistribution of water weight, or the fact that I missed lunch yesterday. And that all this stuff not about weight. But still, it feels great to have myself under control and see my weight reflect the changes I'm feeling in my body. Even my face seems to be clearing up with all that water and lack of preservatives in me'body. <br /><br />All for now. I look forward to the next two weeks being over so I can start blogging about other stuff again. :) <br /><br />Eat well, live well,</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;">Gordita Blanca. </span>Jessicahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07299811735368540596noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7266249040009188813.post-55838622577160181622014-01-20T11:33:00.000-08:002014-01-20T11:33:09.610-08:0012 of 30Today marks day 12 of my Whole30 journey, and I'm not doing so hot. <br /><br />
I do have to give myself MAD props for my weekend. Reject, reject, reject. That is what I did. All weekend. Without one. single. slip.<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />Meeting all day on Saturday, table covered with sweet treats, and I didn't have anything but oranges. Lunch was served - tacos, and, though I shouldn't have eaten the meat (I needed the protein), I just put it atop some lettuce and ate it with salsa. <br /><br />Saturday night, another test. It was the party of some dear friends (dad was turning 50 and daughter, our friend and sitter, was turning 16!). I rejected a chocolate fountain with all kinds of dippin's, all kinds of good food, and opted for the salad I brought. I did have a little brisket that night, and it was delicious. But not knowing marinade means I probably did have a little sugar intake. It is NOTHING compared to what I would have normally chosen, food-wise, however. No birthday cake, no chocolate chip cookies with bacon. (I made them for the birthday girl, and my house smelled amazing. Didn't take one. single. bite.) I cannot BELIEVE I didn't have one cheat bite of anything. I honestly cannot believe it. <br />
<br />
I also passed up firepit-roasted marshmallows later that night, even after a friend tried to make me eat them over and over, on accident. HAHAH! She forgot I'm off sugar and kept trying to offer me these amazing, burnt, drippy marshmallows... yuuuuum. Just. said. no. <br />
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Sunday morning my coffee was black, and I passed up on the donut table. I ate a salad for lunch (but ate a burger patty... not the best choice on my plan, but I needed the protein!). And Sunday night was a birthday party for my niece and nephew, and I just said no to chocolate cake with strawberries in it, and ice cream.<br />
<br />
Though I feel like I made huge life-changing strides this weekend, I still suffer today. I ate several bites of ham last night - which was amazing, and put some of the roast on my salad. The ham definitely had sugar in it, I mean, it was sweet ham. And today... something is wrong.<br />
<br />
I have a pounding, blasting headache. I'm going to blame it on my hormones and, um, women time stuff, but I think it is a mixture of woman time stuff, lack of sleep, and the food I ate yesterday. It's just too obvious. No headaches for a week, eat a little processed ham (that is the only thing I can think would be the culprit), and BAM! Like a wrecking ball! (Which happens to be one of my 4 year-old son's favorite songs right now. Weird and terrible, I know.)<br />
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So, today I'm all in it again, no ham, no brisket, just the same things I was eating before my weekend-o-parties. I got a TON of fruits and veggies from Bountiful Baskets over the weekend, and I'm really looking forward to figuring out what juices and meals to make. Yay! I love all the colors. Love to cook!<br />
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Overall, I still feel good. I look back and try to engrain into my memory/mind that my days and nights were no better off - or worse off - for not eating anything I might have craved. Nothing changed. The only thing that would have changed had I eaten those things, is that I'd feel bad today.<br />
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First time I've left a part of delicious sweet tasty treats.... and had NO regretful eating to get over. Win!<br />
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Eat well, live well,<br />
J<br />
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Jessicahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07299811735368540596noreply@blogger.com5tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7266249040009188813.post-61241729927017014202014-01-15T20:09:00.000-08:002014-01-15T20:12:39.143-08:00Observations. (A Whole30 post)<span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;">I already posted today, but as I sit down tonight, at the end of a very long day, I realize a couple things I need to document for myself.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;">1.<b> Not so hard in the big picture. </b>This last week has not been near the struggle I thought it would be. Yes, at <i>moments</i> it has been so hard I thought about throwing myself in front of a bus. But 1. there are no buses in this town, and 2. they were only <i>moments. Fleeting moments.</i> When I look at the whole, most of it has not been near as hard as I expected.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;">2. <b>Discipline.</b> I cannot believe the amount of discipline I feel in my bones at this moment. It is exhilarating. And it's gone beyond food. I have not bit my nails all week. (This is huge!) I have been more diligent about scheduled bed time, prayer with kids, and reading with/to them. My temper has been more controlled and my attitude is improving (though at moments I'm a raving lunatic. I blame this on sugar withdrawal. Poor kids.) Even improved massively on a couple other behavorial bad habits that I have struggled with breaking for years.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;">3. <b>Satiation</b>. I... am... FULL! I ate three meals today, relatively small, and with each, I did not feel the need to have seconds! WHAT?! I had a handful of almonds and felt full. Dinner was so good that I considered having another helping, but then I just pushed my bowl away and went on, and even forgot that I considered it. How empowered this girl feels! I have NEVER been able to do that, and I cannot remember the last day I felt full. </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;">4. <b>Aches and pains. </b>My back is killing me. I feel kind of weak. I want to exercise, and will start small tomorrow. But my back, and my weakness. My mind feels clear and energetic, but my back is in poor condition. I attribute this to 1. sitting at the computer too much (so I'm getting off and staying off tomorrow. Been on extra the last few days working on a talk, handout, and slide show for a talk I'm presenting this weekend for a retreat in February), and 2. not eating enough. Whenever I'm not eating enough, my back usually is the first to feel it. It is certainly not intentional, but, see number three, I am full! Going to be more mindful of being active, staying away from the computer now that the talk and such are (mostly) done, and eating. Never, ever thought I'd say that. </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;">5. <b>Attitude is everything</b>. And mine has improved, like, whoa, compared to last month. It is bizarre. My poor family. Bi-polar MUCH?! At least at this point it's just an occasional snap because I haven't had a drop of sugar in a week. :)</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;">How is this possible? Mind over matter? Mind over food. Who knew that changing my eating habits would change so many other things? If I feel this at only day 7, I am curious and excited about the next few weeks. I cannot imagine these results are typical for day 7, but my mind was long past ready for this change. I hope they continue and I don't crash and burn! If so, I will eat my words (without sugar, of course).</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: x-small;">Dinner tonight: Threw some cut up chicken into a pot with crushed tomatoes and coconut milk. Added some sea salt, onion, fresh minced garlic, green onion, chopped up some weird squash I bought last week (green, bottom looks like a belly button, shaped like a pear), and some minced jalapeno. Let it simmer, and it was delicious! Spicy, but in a perfect way. Score. Getting creative here, and it's good. Having fun in the kitchen without getting fat is always good. </span></span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"><br /></span>Jessicahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07299811735368540596noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7266249040009188813.post-81935690129888986032014-01-15T11:42:00.000-08:002014-01-15T11:49:49.464-08:00One Week Down<span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;">And one week isn't the only thing down!<br /><br />My goal in this Whole30 thing was not to lose weight. It it is rid my body of the bad stuff so I can be more mindful of how food affects me. It is to gain energy and better eating and sleeping habits. I know that some weight loss will probably occur, but I decided not to weigh myself. </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;">I weighed at the beginning. <br />But today, at day 7, after a week, I couldn't help it and stepped on the scale.<br />I know that this number will continue to fluctuate, and that water weight will change it, along with other factors, and blah blah blah... but I do have to say, that seeing an</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"><br />EIGHT POUND LOSS in seven days is a bit of motivation to keep this going. </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;">That is all. Good day!<br />J</span>Jessicahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07299811735368540596noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7266249040009188813.post-91773888773291788892014-01-14T17:30:00.000-08:002014-01-15T11:45:07.120-08:00Whole30: Day SIX<span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;">I cannot believe I'm saying this, but I've made it to day six without one single fail. </span><br />
<span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"><br />This is a big. deal. </span><br />
<span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;">I am a cheater. Every time I've ever been on the "eat right" plan, I cheat. A handful of M&Ms here, or the classic "one cheat meal" a week. </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;">But by the grace of God, I've made it to day six without a single fail. </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;">Keep in mind that I have fought temptation, in the last six days, against the following food items. <br /><br />Keep in mind that toddlers eat like toddlers. Mine eat kid food. Good kid food, because I make sure they eat right for the most part, but kid food, nonetheless.<br /><br />I also have a husband who is HUNGRY when he gets home from his 12-14 hour shifts every day. And I have to have food in the house that will sustain him through that shift without access to a refrigerator or microwave. <br /><br />Below is a list of food that I have had in my hands or sitting in my kitchen in the last week. </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;">Items to which I have just said "NO": </span><br />
<span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;">Peanut Butter & Jelly sandwich with a side of Xtreme Cheese Goldfish. (I LOVE this food. I'm a kid, I know. I did get to eat the side of cut up oranges.)</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;">An entire big tin of Puppy Chow (Not even ONE BITE. If you know me, you know that this is HUGE! Huger than my bottom! I mean, not even one teensy little lick of powdered sugar. Yes, this is my crowing achievement at this point.) </span><br />
<span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;">King's Hawaiian Sweet Rolls</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;">Chicken/bacon/ranch wraps</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;">Steak & Cheese Quesadillas with bacon pieces (I wanted one bite of these SO BAD I COULD HARDLY STAAAAND IT!!!!)</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;">Pepsi. Sitting on my counter. </span><br />
<span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;">Puppy Chow. Did I already say that? (They snacked on it while we watched Despicable Me 2 with my parents. I snacked on grapes. GO ME!)</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;">Then, my loving and supportive husband made brownies. With chocolate chips and marshmallows. Th smell of brownies drifted about the house like a sweet dream... I didn't even eat a crumb. </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;">In addition, I went out to eat at an authentic Mexican restaurant. Fresh chips and salsa. Fresh, homemade tortillas. And I did not eat one! I ordered beef strips cooled with tomatoes, onions, and red bell peppers, and I slapped the rice and beans in a tortilla and gave it to my kids. </span><br />
<span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;">Basically, I've been good. Very good. The only even slight waver was when I had to take a bite of that chicken/bacon/ranch concoction after I microwaved leftovers for the kids, to make sure it was heated through. There is really no other way to test that. But that's all I took. One tiny bite of a little cube of chicken. And, lo and behold, I burped. All night! WHAT?!</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;">Food choices have been getting creative, and I've eaten more eggs than a person should in a week. But I'm inches away from the one week mark, and I'm very, very proud of myself. Because this is not easy!</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;">Yesterday (Day 5) I was a loopy MESS! My body was feeling SERIOUS withdrawal after five days without a single drop of sugar, and it messed with my limbs and mind. I was fatigued, a bit dizzy, and possibly even hallucinated at some points. I needed to just lay my head down and sleep, but life didn't allow. I pushed through, and came out today feeling good. <br /><br />Today... today has been good. My body is a bit weak, and I only exercised on day 1. But I hope that by tomorrow I'll have the energy I feel is coming, and I will drive myself to exercise. I need to. Bad! But you know, this eating thing is a pretty good step one. </span><br />
<span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;">Thinking about it, I haven't even felt very hungry today. I didn't snack between meals. Doing good. Thinking I might actually make it all thirty days. But right now, 24 days seems very, very far away. </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;">Negative side effects at this point... my patience is a bit thin today. The last several days I've felt good, but with body aches today, and being very, very tired from not sleeping a wink last night (because my 2 year-old screamed all night. Other than that, I've been sleeping GREAT!), I've yelled more than I probably should. </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;">Dinner tonight: chicken in homemade spaghetti sauce, over zucchini noodles with grated fresh jalapeno and crushed red pepper. I ruined it because I put too much Italian seasoning in the sauce, but I ate it anyway. It would be really, really good if I don't do that the next time I make it. <br /></span><br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjhheqeWyIPFuMVxXkI4hbb70HjdeGdyrcWT3OFzd7BHNgQ-gpgN4B9r3tbKnTS3lTi89nGvaiEN0NfNoFciv0WUuWclxzTF9RonG0HoRXvblp2y8XKzIWkFIWTsG-f8HiizwhWtHOfTKw/s1600/2014-01-14+18.50.08.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjhheqeWyIPFuMVxXkI4hbb70HjdeGdyrcWT3OFzd7BHNgQ-gpgN4B9r3tbKnTS3lTi89nGvaiEN0NfNoFciv0WUuWclxzTF9RonG0HoRXvblp2y8XKzIWkFIWTsG-f8HiizwhWtHOfTKw/s1600/2014-01-14+18.50.08.jpg" height="320" width="240" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Zucchini Chicken "Pasta" Bake (Missing cheese, which would have made a HUGE difference! It would have tasted just like lasagne with a little feta or cottage cheese or mozzarella. Alas, cheese is not the bees knees...)</td></tr>
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<span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"><br /><br /><br />Feeling good. <br />Feeling good. <br />Can do this. <br />Peace,</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;">J</span>Jessicahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07299811735368540596noreply@blogger.com6tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7266249040009188813.post-81909420363510638682014-01-10T13:11:00.003-08:002014-01-15T11:48:42.043-08:00Feelin' Groovy<span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;">I feel great. Already. <br />Day 2 of my Whole30 plan, and I feel great. <br />Yesterday was eeeeasy. I love eating clean. I don't know why I don't do it allll the time. <br /><br />Today has been easy, too. Made spinach, egg, onion, Hatch frittata for breakfast, and am munching on zucchini, chicken, broccoli slaw, onion, water chestnut, bean sprout stir fry with an egg over easy on top. I am struggling a bit with not being able to use soy sauce or Sriracha. Those are kind of staples for me, but I can do it for 30 days. :) </span><br />
<span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;">I've discovered that lesson one is "Stay Away from the Store as MUCH as You Can!" </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;">Family Dollar about killed me as I passed the junk aisle. I don't want it ALL the time, but I do want to be able to buy it on a whim if I please. THIS IS A PROBLEM. Not only am I at the store a couple times a week for various things (or as an excuse to get out of the house - mainly this one), but I buy junk "on a whim" every. time. I'm. there. GROSS! So glad I came to this realization, and was able to say "No, body. No, you really do NOT want those Cheetos."</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;">Even the grocery store isn't safe. A cold soda beckoned me (and I don't even drink soda that often), along with, again, the junk aisles and the cleverly-placed CRAP near the register. Avoid. At all costs. </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;">I exercised yesterday, beyond all odds (see previous posts about trying to exercise with toddlers around), to several YouTube Zumba/HipHop videos (and discovered that I love the music of a Christian rapper or two. Haha!). <br /><br />I did this: http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=iQoiaEPNgaI<br /><br />And this: http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=A8PF_3fvZ1Q (LOVE THIS ONE!)</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;">They're both from Flame, this Christian rapper. Word up. </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;">I even hit the weight bench for a couple reps. I could have/should have done more, but I need help. <br /><br />I realized that I need to print out photo diagrams of weight bench exercises, in addition to a list of the reps I want/need to do each day. When I'm on my own lifting weights, I turn into a spaz and don't know what to do. I know HOW to do all the exercises. I've taken a couple weight training courses and worked with a trainer or two in my time... but I just flit all over the place and end up not REALLY working any muscle group. </span><br />
<span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"><br />I also need this in order to use my Body Ball. Because I'm a scatterbrain spaz when it comes to solo-training. </span><br />
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"><a href="http://www.fitnessdestination.com/books_videos_posters/images/CBBCL.jpg">Image</a></span></td></tr>
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<span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;">Though I only spent less than an hour on cardio and weights combined, I'm mucho sore today. That is a good sign! </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;">I feel great. High energy, slept well last night, have been drinking lots of water, my hunger isn't even bad. In fact, I had to force myself to eat dinner last night because I wasn't hungry at all, but I know that once a meal is missed, body hits starvation mode, and starts storing fat and burning muscle. NOT what I want to happen. </span><br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEglD8oqFN1yHXbkF0WvO_m7_TLqZK_hIYkAFW4dldSVqklEIK2yY0aOZlM0B07hKuIqLYRP6TIu1W7bkTQ53NygBSCbC-tTgER-n39NoqdiqUCId1tzDwk6Ln1ZSHg7whgyj68jB4isTJk/s1600/2014-01-10+19.20.39.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEglD8oqFN1yHXbkF0WvO_m7_TLqZK_hIYkAFW4dldSVqklEIK2yY0aOZlM0B07hKuIqLYRP6TIu1W7bkTQ53NygBSCbC-tTgER-n39NoqdiqUCId1tzDwk6Ln1ZSHg7whgyj68jB4isTJk/s1600/2014-01-10+19.20.39.jpg" height="320" width="240" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Steak on a bed of greens, with avocado, tomato, pomegranate. <br />Sprinkled with Pomegranate infused Red Wine Vinegar. YUM!</td></tr>
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<span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;">I feel great about hitting the next couple weeks hard, but not going crazy with it. I want to get in shape IN TIME. I'm not trying to kill myself into shape like I did last time. This is not a 90 day challenge (though if I could join one, that might be more motivation). This is a LIFE challenge. I'm over being fat and unhealthy, and I want my kids to see how to live well. <br /><br />I will exercise. I will eat right. I will sleep well and drink water. And, the weight will come off, and the headaches will dissipate. </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;">I imagine a crash is coming in the next week or so, but today... today I feel so good, and wish I would have been doing this all along. </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;">Eat well, live well. <br />J</span>Jessicahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07299811735368540596noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7266249040009188813.post-23460762788984556432014-01-08T19:20:00.003-08:002014-01-08T21:09:02.757-08:00Insert Clever Blog Title Here. WHOLE30<span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: small;">Welcome 2014! <br />I can't believe how bad of a blogger I've been. <br />Bad blogger. Bad. </span></span><br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><img class="irc_mut" height="293" 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" 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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://lifeinthecle.files.wordpress.com/2011/08/bad-blogger.jpg">Image</a></td></tr>
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<span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: small;"> </span></span><span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: small;"> </span></span><br />
<span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: small;">Now that all that self-hatred is out of the way, I can move on to the real reason I'm back. Health. Or, lack thereof. </span></span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: small;">This is not a new year resolution blog. This is not a "I will lose XX pounds in 2014" statement. This is a "I'm so sick of living like this, and I can't do it anymore!" post. Because I am! And I can't! </span></span><br />
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<span style="font-size: x-small;">Sidenote to self: this serves as your reminder, self, to write about our lovely Christmas and New Year celebrations at some point. They were wonderful. Blog them. </span><br />
<span style="font-size: x-small;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-size: x-small;">Other sidenote to self: do not ever eat like you have over the last couple months, ever again. </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">It seems like just last month I was unpacking boxes in our new home in our new town. I looked up, and realized it's been SIX MONTHS! Where has it gone? As time seems to grow thinner and thinner, however, I find myself expanding with a vengeance. <br /><br />If you kept up with my blog months ago, I was on a <a href="http://funlittlehouse.blogspot.com/2013/09/fat-girl.html">journey to regain a healthy lifestyle</a>. I <a href="http://funlittlehouse.blogspot.com/2013/09/finding-fit-poor-girls-way.html">tried, (and here is a little proof)</a>... and, I failed. Miserably! (I believe the failing started with documentation <a href="http://funlittlehouse.blogspot.com/2013/10/a-weight-loss-flop.html">here</a> and just continued, then picked up like CRAZY over the holidays!) </span><br />
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"></span><br />
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><br />Between something being jacked up with my hormones, general laziness, and a hint (or brick) of depression in there somewhere, I ballooned up a few sizes in jeans and I'm higher than the weight I was when I began my weight loss journey two years ago around this time. </span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">Two years ago I joined a gym, lost a good amount of weight - over 25 pounds of fat in less than 4 months. My BMI and body fat % both dropped to healthy levels, I gained muscle, was toned and... well, I was happy. I felt healthy! My mind and spirit were healthy, too. I was sleeping well, joyful, conquering obstacles in life with strength and grace. <br /><br />I felt powerful. </span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">My mind and spirit followed suit. </span><br />
<br />
<br />
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">Now? Erase it all. Add weight. Add muscles that had been worked and toned, then neglected, and have come back with a flabbiness and cellulite-packed punch that this body has never seen! </span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">It was hard to get on track before. Even with a gym with childcare for my baby and toddler. Even with a group of close friends who encouraged me. Even with group classes that held me accountable and were FUN!</span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">Erase all of that. It is going to be hard... VERY hard, now. </span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">Which is why I've decided to go cold turkey and just jump in. </span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">The "why"s. </span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><b>I don't sleep anymore</b>. Partly because I'm the mother to children who don't sleep, but mostly because I'm up with indigestion or acid reflux, or my brain just won't turn off. </span><br />
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<b><span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">I don't feel good. Ever. </span></b><br />
<br />
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><b>I don't fit into any of my clothes</b>. None of them. Except one pair of jeans, and even those are pushing it. I do NOT want to buy a "fat-girl" wardrobe, and I couldn't afford it if I DID want to. <br /><b><br />I don't play anymore</b>. I sit. My kids play, and I watch. Just writing that makes me want to cry. </span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><b>I don't blog anymore</b>. Because I'm depressed and have nothing good to say. </span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><b>I'm depressed</b>. :*( Boo. And lonely. Which has been a bit of a Catch22 with this whole unhealthy life thing. I'm lonely and depressed because I'm unhealthy. I'm unhealthy because I'm lonely and depressed. How do I get over that one? :/</span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><b>I don't write anymore</b>. </span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><b>I don't like to meet people</b>, because I'm uncomfortable in my skin. </span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><b>I don't like my reflection</b>. And I don't want that to translate to my daughter. </span><br />
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><b>I have children to love!</b> And a husband that needs me to feel good and JUMP OUT OF THIS FUNK!!!</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">So, then, what's next? </span><br />
<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjQreIkizi7WXkLc0vnsSn1jRPpOXPy9qKOt3PWMZnXnRcadKxuZAHnRvTVCayW_1LKyGIHEXhccjC5q5VW7Usd_uG2TC0Y5vq3qZh3WmemS8q-zbOh5HFFht5I5f8vAsQDiT0i7O73YVg/s1600/30+DAYS+-+WHY+inspiration.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjQreIkizi7WXkLc0vnsSn1jRPpOXPy9qKOt3PWMZnXnRcadKxuZAHnRvTVCayW_1LKyGIHEXhccjC5q5VW7Usd_uG2TC0Y5vq3qZh3WmemS8q-zbOh5HFFht5I5f8vAsQDiT0i7O73YVg/s1600/30+DAYS+-+WHY+inspiration.jpg" height="300" width="400" /></a></div>
<br />
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">I don't have anyone to hold me accountable here. However, I have met a couple ladies who I think will be good to have as accountability partners over the next couple months, and maybe longer, so I do look forward to that! Looking up! </span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">And Geoff has, after many, many, many tears and "I JUST CAN'T DO THIS ALONE"s on my part, expressed that maybe we could start doing a video in the morning before he goes to work (he leaves at 6:30 a.m., so you do that math). P90X, I believe we'll see you soon. </span><br />
<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><img src="https://encrypted-tbn2.gstatic.com/images?q=tbn:ANd9GcTu5BXmEIWtrDQk5DuICSxU54bVwQv6ucNF50IuDPzWLNrHVrsJSMD_eWdb" style="height: 157px; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; margin-top: 0px; width: 322px;" /></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://www.google.com/imgres?imgurl=&imgrefurl=http%3A%2F%2Fshop.fitnessbodyonline.com%2Fp90x-equipment.html&h=0&w=0&sz=1&tbnid=IlUfv_YaXGyWnM&tbnh=157&tbnw=322&zoom=1&docid=tKXv0yJALHFURM&ei=URLOUtL-LMbI2gWC7YDAAw&ved=0CAIQsCUoAA">Image</a></td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">And so, here I start. All in. </span><br />
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><br />I start in the morning, January 9, 2014, with Whole30, where I will only eat whole foods, and stick to a pretty specific food regimin for 30 days. I'm going to start with just thirty days. I can do this. Thirty days at a time. </span><br />
<br />
<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><img alt="" class="wp-image-14175 alignleft" src="http://whole9life.com/wp-content/uploads/2012/07/doing-the-whole30.jpg" height="124" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;" title="doing-the-whole30" width="300" /></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://whole9life.com/2013/08/the-whole30-program/">Whole30 Site</a></td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<br />
<br />
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">And I plan to chronicle bits and pieces of my journey. I'm excited to see where this goes. </span><br />
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">I just want to be happy again! And I know that the key to happiness is health in body, mind, and spirit. I'm working on the latter two, but with the way I work, the body is the first temple and if it's not working right, nothing else will. (Believe me. My spirit and mind have been most powerful and healthy when my body is healthy. It is bizarre how much physical health plays into mental and spiritual health! With my body feeling like this, it will be impossible to convince my mind and spirit to do what is necessary for them to regain full operations.)</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">I will post photos (before/after) each 30 days. Let's see if I can actually morph my very soul and inner being into doing this by myself, with no gym, with no childcare, with no accountability... I know I can. I've conquered more difficult tasks than this, right? Meh, I'm not so sure!<br /><br />Here's to hope and God's favor! <3</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">J</span><br />
<br />
<br />Jessicahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07299811735368540596noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7266249040009188813.post-29893315048994085482013-12-13T13:15:00.000-08:002013-12-13T13:21:34.422-08:00This is the Life: A Blue Collar HousewifeBefore I begin, you must understand. <br />
Understand that I am grateful. <br />
Understand that I have a bursting, uncontainable amount of respect for my husband. <br />
Understand
that I adore that man, that I see him not only as my best friend, but
as the provider for me and our home. We do not make it easily. But we
make it, because of him. <br />
<br />
And so, I begin. <br />
<br />
<b><br /></b>
This is the life of a blue collar housewife.<br />
<br />
My
mom stayed home with all five of us kiddos until the youngest was in
third grade. My dad was a deacon and an editor for the Catholic
newspaper in town, and his income was just enough to get by, with a few
lovely perks along the way. <br />
<br />
Somehow, on a tiny income -
tiny by social standards for a family of seven - we had fabulous
birthdays, Christmases, and even trips to NYC, Disneyland, and Michigan
along the way. We ate homecooked meals, shopped at thrift stores, drove
used and paid-for cars, and didn't live excessively. <br />
<br />
We were poor. And we were happy. <br />
So,
knowing that one could be both poor and happy, the decision for me to
stay home when we welcomed our second child was not terribly terrifying. <br />
<br />
I
always worked. From the time I was 16 and could drive, I worked. I
worked through high school, and through college (and through dropping
out of college, then re-enrolling, then dropping out, then re-enrolling,
then graduating). I have a degree. I have a love for the service
industry. I have the desire and drive to work. <br />
<br />
But,
more than that, I have the desire to raise my children. (Most of the
time. I can't lie and say that it's all daisies. There have been many,
MANY days where I've yearned for a "real" job and the perks of a
paycheck.)<br />
<br />
At the time Aidan was born, I had a good
job. I was the Training Event Coordinator for the Office of Dispute
Resolution for the county. And I really, really liked it. It wasn't the
highest paying job, but it was fulfilling. <br />
<br />
We talked
about me staying home, but I was unsure as to whether I wanted to, and
whether it was actually even possible. At the time my husband worked at
TNT Fireworks' warehouse. He operated a fork lift, delivered firework
stands all over the state, loaded trucks of fireworks, restored
broken-down stands, installed area lighting. He did a little of
everything, at an hourly wage. <br />
<br />
Then, my son was born. And little by little, life (aka God) proved that it <i>was</i> possible. <br />
<br />
I
still had my job, and went in a few hours here and there, but because
my son was born with a terrible umbilical hernia, I felt very uneasy
about leaving him. I couldn't put him in daycare. What if it ruptured?
What if he wasn't monitored carefully? What if, what if, what if? <br />
<br />
And so, I quit my job. It wasn't really my intention, but it became clear that I wasn't going back any time soon. <br />
<br />
There we were. My hardworking husband, our two children, and me, a blue collar housewife. <br />
<br />
Somehow
(aka God), everything worked out, and I have been a stay at home mom
for four years now. We have three children, and I'm home with the
younger two. <br />
<br />
My husband works hard. <br />
He has a different job now, but he's still not salary. <br />
He works with his hands. <br />
He drives a tractor or a loader. <br />
He has found himself at times standing waist-deep in a cow poop lagoon. (To clarify, not for fun. He works with cattle.)<br />
He comes home smelling of sweat and composted manure. <br />
His hands are calloused. <br />
His arms and face and neck are dark. (But that's it. The rest of him rarely sees sun.)<br />
He is strong. <br />
Very strong. <br />
<br />
Surprising to corporate America, some men don't want to sit behind a desk. <br />
Their desire to put on plaid khakis and commune on a golf course is low. (Though I bet my husband would love it if he actually gave it a shot.)<br />
They don't care about ties and shiny shoes, fast cars and Rolex watches. (I lied. He does want a nice car. More for me than him. And he wants a motorcycle. He IS a man, after all.)<br />
<br />
<br />
Some, some men are actually content to be blue collar. <br />
Enter my husband. <br />
He is incredibly smart. <br />
His intuition and wit are unmatched. <br />
He can use any tool, operate any machine, fix anything... without ever having used or operated or fixed it before. <br />
He has to move, to work, to DO. <br />
He has to think on the spot, operate machinery, use his hands and his feet. <br />
He can't put on a suit and sit. <br />
He has moved up, but he will never be white collar. <br />
He strives for higher level management, and someday ownership of some sort. <br />
But he'll never be white collar. <br />
And that's okay, because he's my blue collar man. <br />
And I love him. I'm proud of him. I respect him.<br />
He is... amazing. <br />
<br />
So, what does it mean? And why do you care? <br />
<br />
Because society has lost it's respect for homemakers. <br />
Society
has told women that if you don't work a "man's" job, if you're not able
to support yourself, if you stand barefoot in the kitchen, somehow it
diminishes your worth. <br />
Society has told us that we can only afford to have one, maybe two or 2.5 children. <br />
Society tells us that we cannot afford to be a one-income family. <br />
It has duped us into believing that both parents working, while limiting family size, is the only route to success. <br />
It
has led us to believe that only the wealthy can be homemakers, and that
the job of housewife isn't near as fun if you don't have the money to <i>do</i> things. (Thank you, Real Housewives series.)<br />
<br />
If this is the case, how are we so happy? <br />
<br />
We do not travel. Our vacations generally consist of staying with family members or an occasional hotel night stay. <br />
We don't drive nice cars. In fact, they're less than nice. But they work. <br />
My nails are bitten (bad habit, I know!), and not manicured. <br />
My feet are not pedicured. <br />
My hair gets a salon cut once a year. <br />
We are renters. (Though we will buy eventually, we're kind of gypsies and haven't found the place, yet.) <br />
Our furniture is mismatched, and our appliances are not stainless steel. <br />
We don't have cable. Or a big TV.<br />
If
he can't get off work, my husband watches the kids' performances and
Christmas programs on video. (That's the part that gets me most, I
think.) <br />
We don't have much. <br />
<br />
Yet, we have everything we need, and more. <br />
<br />
We have fun and cheap vacations - we go to concerts, the zoo, the beach. <br />
We never go hungry. I make every meal, and make sure my family eats fun food, and healthy food, and tries new foods. <br />
We go out to eat, even. Usually once a week after Mass. <br />
I dress pretty nice. My clothes are not designer, but I know how to shop for killer deals. <br />
If I just HAVE to get my nails done, I do. <br />
Our children always have the money to pay for class trips or buy their friends a birthday gift. <br />
Our home is nice and well-stocked. It is peaceful and homey, serene and comfortable.<br />
Birthdays and Christmases are never lacking. <br />
We
even get to go on dates, and pay for a babysitter. My husband and I go
for sushi. My daughter and I go to the Nutcracker. Dates may not be
often, but they do happen more often than you'd think. <br />
I get to
go to Hobby Lobby to get craft supplies and make things. (And, if I
could just get enough cash together, could actually make that a side job
to bring in a little extra income. Someday!)<br />
<br />
Yes, we have debt (student loans). We'll pay it off when our kids are older and I go back to work. <br />
Yes,
sometimes the fear of what bills we can pay when sets in. But I do not
believe is this a blue-collar problem. I believe that, no matter what,
money is ALWAYS a stress factor. <br />
Yes, I go stir crazy. I'm an adult, and if I can't figure out cures for stir-craziness, I'm lame, and it's my own fault. <br />
Yes,
my kids drive me crazy from time to time. They're children. And I'd
trade one thousand hours of them driving me crazy for one moment of
seeing them take their first bite of food, or first step, or first trip
to the potty, or be there for the first tears after girls were mean at
school. <br />
<br />
And so, here I am, a blue collar housewife, living a really, really good life. <br />
It's not always easy, but who's is? <br />
<br />
I believe that many work because they're afraid that they can't make it. <br />
But here I am, here we are, proof that it's possible. <br />
And oh! is it possible! And worth it! <br />
<br />
Being at home takes sacrifice. And partnership. <br />
It takes a husband who is willing to work really, really hard, and miss out on some things in order to provide. <br />
It takes patience on my part, and sometimes loneliness and tears. (I do believe every wife experiences this - regardless of what her husband does.)<br />
It takes knowing that you are not wealthy, and you will not be for a long time, if ever. <br />
It takes buying cheap shampoo and driving old cars. <br />
It takes - THIS IS THE KICKER - putting aside your feminist pride, and
being submissive, grateful, and DEPENDENT on your spouse. And trusting
and praying that he pulls through. <br />
It takes loving and supporting and respecting him - even, no, <i>especially</i> when he fails. <br />
It takes shopping clearance. <br />
It takes knowing that you may never have your dream house, or nice cars, or the newest phone.<br />
It takes NEVER COMPARING your life to others - ESPECIALLY other housewives.
There will always be those who can afford luxuries. YOU are NOT them. It
takes understanding that THAT IS OKAY, and life - raising children - is
not a competition. It takes knowing and loving and embracing these housewives, too, regardless of whether you can afford to do everything they can. (Remember, all mothers are in it together!)<br />
<br />
More importantly, it takes realizing that the ministry of raising your children is the most important ministry on earth. <br />
It takes realizing that no amount of wealth or material things can replace the few short years that your babies are little. <br />
It takes humility, and the strength to say "we can't afford that right now." <br />
It takes having pride in who we are. <br />
It takes character and humor! (Humor is probably one of the more important things in this mix.)<br />
<br />
I wouldn't trade my life as a blue collar housewife. <br />
I
dream of stilettos and New York City lights, visiting Broadway and a
tiny flat in Manhattan.(Insert eye roll from my dad here.)<br />
I dream of opening an art gallery and restaurant. <br />
I dream of publishing a novel, or a dozen. (Which is something that I get to work on at home.)<br />
I
have many, many dreams. And most may never happen. But that's okay,
because it's my job to enjoy my life, and be grateful for it... and work
to mold my children into people who will make THEIR dreams come true! <br />
<br />
I'm here to say be proud of your life as a blue collar housewife. <br />
Because you're making it, against all the odds that society has stacked against you. <br />
Enjoy it. Live it. And be grateful for it. <br />
<br />
Adios. <br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<i>Disclaimer:
I do not care to hear what you have to say about families whose mothers
work. I know these families, and I love them. I know you have to do
what you have to do, and what is best for everyone. This post is not
about two-parent or single parent or double-income families. It is
SOLELY about my being a blue-collar housewife. If you want to comment on
two-income families, or single parents, or whatever, then write your
own blog and comment on it there. :) Peace! </i>Jessicahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07299811735368540596noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7266249040009188813.post-2825296257876326922013-12-04T12:17:00.001-08:002013-12-04T12:19:46.602-08:00That Evil Elf on the Shelf<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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<span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"><span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"><br />Meet Whimsey, our Elf on the Shelf. </span></span><br />
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<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEizgsJZ59F9n2vYwIR_-UGUos3u53I8S5KwHyUgGRFlClfdZIE4-QAy3IZxxTfFIXxziqLAmvci7tD8X1HRmRGi6fy-2Y4Rq77Zkz29OZLVY8jwsoz6BYfnVRhxJsUxpOSKyCuplXDyWXg/s1600/IMG_20121126_222923.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEizgsJZ59F9n2vYwIR_-UGUos3u53I8S5KwHyUgGRFlClfdZIE4-QAy3IZxxTfFIXxziqLAmvci7tD8X1HRmRGi6fy-2Y4Rq77Zkz29OZLVY8jwsoz6BYfnVRhxJsUxpOSKyCuplXDyWXg/s320/IMG_20121126_222923.jpg" width="240" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container"><tbody>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"><span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;">This is last year, when the first night he showed <br />up he brought
the kids their own tiny<br /> Christmas tree and ornaments. <br />He's not all bad. </span></span></td></tr>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgQrS9zV1hgmUSfWgkSUGwestonlxctVAsbTldIzBgyOAvu0psNhXJSIrcwhUtiJp-QUbRgJGDnqXmSrutpGkhu3E_dmDLs762z1Pbt0b9LDj2Gk9oRNlVLBwsrEx0KLqQLA1P0T26jiH4/s1600/101_1323.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"></a><span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;">Two Christmases ago, I gave in. Annie was 7. She wanted an elf. Badly. I thought about it, then, on a 'whim" I bought one. All $30 of him. We named him Whimsey. And this is his third year in our house. </span><br />
<span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"></span><span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"><br />I brought him home conflicted. You see, I was raised in a home where my parents never "did" Santa. We never did "North Pole" or reindeer. We never did elves. Our home was filled with traditions, but elves were not one. <br /><br /><b>Advent Tradition</b><br /><br />We had an Advent wreath, and a felt calendar that my mom made. It was made up of 24 pockets, one for each day in December before Christmas. I remember waiting, with eager anticipation, every day to do the Adevent wreath. Not for the prayers. Not because I knew we were going to sing "O Come, o come, Emmanuel." Not because we got to light and blow out a candle (or two or three). I waited... for the <i>candy</i>. <br /><br />There were five pieces of chocolate or taffy candy (you know the one - the delicious peppermint taffy that is white with red edges and a green tree in the center) in the pocket of the corresponding day. I wanted to be the one to get the candy out! I wanted to be the one to distribute it to my four siblings! I wanted to EAT. CANDY. <br /><br />This is a tradition I carry on in my home today with my three children. We gather around the Advent wreath. We light the candle(s) for the week. We pray, and we sing O Come, o come, Emmanuel. And my children wait patiently because they know, at the end, they will get a piece of candy out of my homemade felt calendar. It is a beautiful tradition, and one I honor and respect and LOVE about my Catholic Christian home. <br /><br />And, I know my kids want to do the Advent wreath because of the candy. As they grow older, this will change. They will begin to revere, to understand, to respect (or, God forbid, reject) the reason, the meaning, the purpose. But for now, they will associate Advent with being sweet. And I'm okay with that. <br /><br /><b>Santa Claus</b><br /><br />My parents didn't "do" Santa. They never confirmed nor denied that he (he as in the fat man in a red coat with a flying sleigh and reindeer) existed. They made sure to make certain we knew that "Santa Claus" is a translation of "Saint Nicolas," the saint after whom the tradition of Santa was formed. We never had presents from Santa. Christmas morning each of us had a gift from Saint Nicolas. And one from Baby Jesus. <br /><br />I carry that tradition on, too. I don't confirm or deny the red man. I've never told my kids that he does or doesn't exist - though I don't lie to my kids. If they ask, straight out, I either evade the truth or give it to them. But I don't ever say that Santa and the North Pole are real. Way I see it, I can't expect them to never lie to me if I lie to them. <br /><br />That being said, I let them take pictures with the man in the suit when we do "Breakfast with Santa." I let them believe in magic. When they ask, I say something to the effect of "Saint Nicolas was a good man. And he is a living saint in Heaven. He gave to the poor, and I love the magic that stories of him bring to the Christmas season." (except for last year's debacle when I explained that the "magic" Santa isn't real, but Saint Nicolas is. Yeah, that ended in major tears for my eldest, and a complete retraction of what I'd said. Don't judge.)<br /><br /><b>Evil Elf</b><br /><br />But Oh! have I heard comments and read blogs about the notorious "Elf on the Shelf." I've seen different versions - I almost added the Christmas Angel to be Whimsey's friend last year, but then Advent was here, and time and money were not. Thought about it this year, then decided, nah. A Christmas Angel or an elf... it doesn't matter. In truth, I almost added the Christmas Angel because I felt like I'd be deemed less holy or less Christian or less Catholic if I <i>only</i> had our elf. <br /><br />I read <a href="http://lindsayleighbentley.com/2013/11/23/no-elfing-way-why-you-wont-see-an-elf-on-our-shelf/">blogs</a> from <a href="http://www.sowonderfulsomarvelous.com/2013/12/no-elf-on-my-shelf.html">women</a> that hate the elf because he's creepy (I'll give her that. He is a little creepy at night), or they doesn't feel like messing up and cleaning up - and because kids should have good behavior regardless of whether an elf is watching. Touche. <br /><br />I read a blog from a Catholic blogger that is totally opposed to letting the little guy in her house because he doesn't encompass anything Catholic OR Christian. <br /><br />I read blogs from several <a href="http://catholicmom.com/2013/11/16/my-little-messenger-an-elf-of-the-shelf-alternative/">Catholics</a> and other Christians that say they don't do the elf thing, but will incorporate <a href="http://theimaginationtree.com/2013/11/alternative-elf-on-shelf-tradition-kindness-elf.html">something similar</a> and more Christian. I think that is a brilliant idea. (In particular, I LOVE the Kindness Elves. Plus, they're way cuter than Whimsey.)</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"></span><span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"><span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"><a href="http://www.wordonfire.org/WoF-Blog/WoF-Blog/December-2012/Spirituality-St-Nicholas-Santa-and-the-Elf-on-the-.aspx">Others</a> can't decide if they want the elf or not.</span> </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"><br />I was almost jealous when I read <a href="http://www.catholicinspired.com/2013/11/wisemen-adventures-again-this-year-sooo.html">this</a> blog, about Wisemen Adventures - where the wisemen try to find Baby Jesus. So fun! Why did I think of that?! But my kids are already attached to Whimsey, so to replace him now would take some careful measures. I think I'll use this wisemen adventure after Christmas, when Whimsey is gone, in the 12 days of Christmas between Christmas Day and Epiphany, to help aid in the joy of Epiphany. </span><br />
<span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"><br /><br />I understand all those views. And I agree with all of them. <br /><br />And in all that reading, guess what conclusion I reached? My elf doesn't make my home less Christian. It doesn't make us less Catholic. It isn't good. It isn't bad. It's just an elf, and we each get to decide which traditions we'll bring into our homes. <br /><br />Our little guy brings just one more piece of added "WHIMSEY" to our home during the Advent season. We don't focus on the fact that "he's watching and will tell Santa if you're being bad or good." In fact, I've never told my kids that. He doesn't teach my kids how to misbehave. He isn't their "you'd better be good or else" fear factor (which is the main opposition I've found from parents). I don't tell them that he's watching their moves. I don't really tell them anything, actually. <br /><br />He's just... fun. <br /><br /><b>Fun Elf</b><br /><br />In my home, we do make a point to add Christian Catholic faith in with our little guy. He writes things like "I can't believe it's already time to prepare for Jesus' birthday" and "Happy Advent" and "Honor your father and mother (and siblings)" on his mirror notes and paper letters. He "asks" the kids to pray for him at Holy Mass. <br /><br />But, even with all that... the elf is just fun!<br /><br />It is fun for me to find new hiding places. It is fun for me to see thier faces when they discover he threw a "toilet paper party" in the bathroom, and all his little toy friends attended. It is fun for me to dye the milk green and dump out the laundry basket. He's not mean. He's mischevious. <br /><br /><b>Loosen Up!</b><br />I spend SOOO MUUUUCH TIIIIME ALLLL YEAR correcting my kids, yelling at them, making them stay in line and do chores and trying to teach them how to be PERFECT. And, at the end of the year, I just need to be SILLY! In some weird way, this elf is a little reminder to ME to have FUN. To keep my kids children. That a little mischief never hurt anyone. Whimsey helps me let go of my anal OCD, and just let them be kids, and let me have fun putting curiosity and joy on their faces. <br /><br /><b>Lessons Learned</b><br /><br />This stupid elf is a reminder to them (and this lesson is one that I have used several times) that, even when we mess up, we're loved anyway. They see my reaction to Whimsey's mischief. When "he's made a mess", I act disappointed. And then, I say "It's ok. Kids will be kids, and elves will be elves. But you're helping me clean this mess up, because he's YOUR elf..." He's always welcome back. Even last year when he toilet-papered the Christmas tree. No matter the mess, Whimsey is welcome in our home. He's like an example of the prodigal son.. only red, with big eyes and a pointy hat, or something. Okay, maybe that's a stupid analogy, but you get my drift. <br /><br />Whimsey helps reinforce what I try to teach my kids all the time - that we love no matter what mistakes and messes are made. We get a clean slate every day. Kind of an important lesson during Advent, as we spend a month in preparation for the coming of our Lord, who died so that, no matter what mistakes and messes are made, we can still experience the joy of the Lord, and the unending celebration in Heaven, because he wipes our slate clean. <br /><br />That stupid elf reminds us to be CHILDlike... that Advent is a time of fun and joy, and eager anticipation for the birth of Jesus (Whimsey wears a party hat on Christmas Eve. This year, I think he'll leave a gift for baby Jesus. Or possibly have a birthday party for him, with all his "friends" - Barbies, dinosaurs, Little People.).<br /><br />Whimsey doesn't take the Christ or meaning out of Christmas. He adds to it. And, though he makes a big mess out of some things, he sure does add some fun to my kids' Advent season. <br /><br /><b>Secular Schmecular</b><br /><br />Just like I'll never stop giving my kids candy with the Advent wreath, just like I'll never stop letting my kids Easter egg hunt, just like I'll never stop letting them distribute letters and candy on Saint Valentine's Day, I'll also let Whimsey stick around for as long as their little hearts desire. Because these things help bring added joy and whimsey into these holidays for little minds that are being developed into understanding the TRUE reason for these holidays is Christ and His holy saints... but they are NOT detracting from it. <br /><br />My children know that Christmas is the celebration of the birth of Jesus. Whimsey doesn't take that away; that creepy little elf adds to the excitement. Just like my children know that Easter is the celebration of His resurrection, and hunting Easter eggs (and looking at that creepy bunny - I'm opposed to the Easter bunny simply for creep factor) adds to the fun of THAT day. <br /><br />As our children get older, the WORLD will try to suck out their youthful innocence. It will attempt to zap their joy and wonder. The WORLD will kill Whimsey. So, before then, I'll let them have all the fun and believe in all the magic they can. Because they're only little for a little while. And, when they're grown, I am confident that no elf, having one or not having one, is going to form their character.<br /><br />In the end, regardless of whether you are Christian or Catholic, or neither, I could care less if there is an elf on your shelf. I don't judge your traditions (but I might if they require anything with blood or potions). I don't care if you <i>are</i> Christian, Catholic or not, and you don't incorporate Jesus or Advent AT ALL into your elf tradition. Because, fact of the matter is, it is YOUR tradition. <br /><br />Please be mindful of the fact that Advent is a time to prepare for Christ Mass, aka Christmas, and respect and honor the birth of Jesus, the Son of God. And that's all. <br /><br />And, for the sake of all things children, HAVE FUN! <br /><br /><br /><br />P.S. As far as figuring out whether or not to feel guilty about this elf, I'm over it. <br /><br />We're all striving for holiness. And until you pray without ceasing, live on only what the Book requires of you, rid your home of anything secular, go to confession at least once a year - but probably more like once a week, have read the entire Bible front to back and back again, have the perfect marriage, never yell at your kids, never spend money on trivial things, never gossip, don't watch or read anything immoral or secular, tithe on a constant basis, do not have pride, anger, lust, envy, gluttony, avarice, or sloth in your life or in your heart... oh, I could go on and on, you don't get to say anything about my elf. <br /><br />I am ALL ABOUT striving for holiness in every way you know how. And if having an elf on your shelf is going to make you less holy, of COURSE don't get one! But for those of us who do, don't get "holier than thou" on me. <br /><br />There are MUCH bigger fish to fry. Call me out on my lack of confession, on my overreaction to my kids' behavior, my wandering mind during Mass, the fact that half the time I totally take for granted the mystery and true magic of the Holy Eucharist. Tell me that I should pray more, keep my house cleaner, serve my husband better, strive harder to be a Proverbs 31 woman, get my unhealthy bodily temple in shape. Hold me accountable for my sin. Help rise me up to be holier, better, more loving. Help me laugh more, love more, DO more for my fellow man. <br /><br />But, for Pete's sake, leave the elf alone. <br /><br />Welcome back, Whimsey! Don't do anything toooo bad this year!</span>Jessicahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07299811735368540596noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7266249040009188813.post-36906605539767870522013-11-21T15:37:00.004-08:002013-11-21T21:59:43.685-08:00One I Love: Rachael<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">I don't know how common it is in life to be friends with someone longer than you haven't been friends with someone. </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">I met my best friend when I was 12. We hated each other that first few months of sixth grade. She thought I was annoying and I thought she was mean. Funny thing? I <i>was</i> annoying, and she <i>was </i>mean. At least we were to each other. </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">Somehow, we got over that, and by seventh grade we clung to each other and never let go. Her acne and my chubbiness made for some pretty serious clinging at times. We were a couple of dorks who didn't care what people thought (at least, we didn't show it... I'm pretty sure we spent hours caring over the phone or in tears at points). We stood up for ourselves, stood up against the cheerleaders who tended to give us hell from time to time, stood up to teachers who treated us unjustly, and had a heck of a lot of laughs. <br /><br />When she got detention, I would intentionally get detention. Because you don't let your friend go down alone.<br /><br />When she was in Ag, I joined Ag. (Then, I left. Because I could NOT hang in that class. You know we had to watch a pig get castrated?! EW! I was a pretty good welder, though...)</span><br />
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">I WISH I knew what was happening on this phone call. </td></tr>
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<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">Over the years, we only grew closer. </span><br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgawY71RU2WGpswn4Kah1xuY7gl0xYtLv2Lud34sXBMhJlyDNVksGFIOSuBTmAWYvaoW7TpGPoleLpRBPzDQjkV_Hk27Muf-iTrttIXcDzZypZbQHgP2YcsC2brrsQkf-c5k5NW39vNhBQ/s1600/IMG_20130911_095726.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgawY71RU2WGpswn4Kah1xuY7gl0xYtLv2Lud34sXBMhJlyDNVksGFIOSuBTmAWYvaoW7TpGPoleLpRBPzDQjkV_Hk27Muf-iTrttIXcDzZypZbQHgP2YcsC2brrsQkf-c5k5NW39vNhBQ/s320/IMG_20130911_095726.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">And then, a full page or two in my Senior Scrapbook became <br />
devoted to her and our other best gal, Trina!</td></tr>
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<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">And today, she's still my best friend. </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">I've made other best friends over the years (a couple come immediately to mind, and they'll get their own blog dedication soon), and I love and cherish those special friendships. </span><br />
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">You know you're good friends with someone when you have a picture like this laying around. <br />
I love her whole family! </td></tr>
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<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">But Rachael... she is my sister. (Not my actual sister, Rachel. THAT was confusing growing up. We ended up referring to them as "Sister" and "Friend." Like, to the point where it was "Jessica! Friend is on the phone!")</span><br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgWhrS4SNmkXisoLUADuqpmU9QvqKro6U1rpIqbfiQkUVPnEld6KqIB6vU7GwHrKJKpzxZmIYQBfF8JTOmnSRsr8UdNTAaqXkCivQvPqnaCe0oLsdCuq5-W5apq0nd5-BU5iBVOfTACAH8/s1600/IMG_20130911_094307.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgWhrS4SNmkXisoLUADuqpmU9QvqKro6U1rpIqbfiQkUVPnEld6KqIB6vU7GwHrKJKpzxZmIYQBfF8JTOmnSRsr8UdNTAaqXkCivQvPqnaCe0oLsdCuq5-W5apq0nd5-BU5iBVOfTACAH8/s320/IMG_20130911_094307.jpg" width="238" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">True friends have your most hideous photos. They occasionally use them as blackmail. <br />
But they never post the picture on social media, without distorting them first, because they're true friends like that. </td></tr>
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<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">We know each other's souls. We know each other's mistakes and each other's questionable records (psssh, not like EITHER of us even HAVE one! WHATever)... </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">We spent thousands of hours on the phone (her was that cool see-through one, and she had her "OWN LINE" which was a BIIIG deal), until we could drive. Then, the world was our oyster. </span><br />
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Prom after party. We were the only ones from our school there, because that's how we rolled. </td></tr>
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<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">She's the one who told me I wasn't fat when I had run-ins with cruel kids who called me fat and "blob." I was the one who reminded her that she was pretty when she was taking a medicine that made her skin dry out in patches. </span><br />
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">A true friend joins whatever extracurricular activities you're in, so you can miss school on the same days. </td></tr>
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<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">We were the most amazing duo for many years. Superheros, really. And, the rare times that we still get together, we are still the most awesome duo in the room.</span><br />
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<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhpuDXye147rbx6HJAhRiTVMBfWd8Cnu60Q3_c-2Yx2pepXrxCaFxR1meG7_ylR5tZTZlrb7iWrhaZ62ccswvaiQZ51f8lJpQhcoPVPF9yTLz-ebM-jB_G3pdGgBzW7KOXhAOJLIj49FnU/s1600/IMG_20130911_094232.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhpuDXye147rbx6HJAhRiTVMBfWd8Cnu60Q3_c-2Yx2pepXrxCaFxR1meG7_ylR5tZTZlrb7iWrhaZ62ccswvaiQZ51f8lJpQhcoPVPF9yTLz-ebM-jB_G3pdGgBzW7KOXhAOJLIj49FnU/s320/IMG_20130911_094232.jpg" width="192" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Because chunky shoes were "in." And so was my bedazzled Caddy shirt and rose-colored shades. <br />
Whatever. We ROCKED that club every Thursday. </td></tr>
</tbody></table>
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<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgu366gVWxvXgRihEdCtudZ8iipmAxoH6QoH5XGaHFFha6bDZYLMGLQWpDvhKY5u4N-876aOWDDJJQqU92ymvww_XUhFUfzitCXe_WZ1JgrEULfVvCGI2lkNyjY-TBmmdudz9b0hqaPTWs/s1600/IMG_20130911_094545.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgu366gVWxvXgRihEdCtudZ8iipmAxoH6QoH5XGaHFFha6bDZYLMGLQWpDvhKY5u4N-876aOWDDJJQqU92ymvww_XUhFUfzitCXe_WZ1JgrEULfVvCGI2lkNyjY-TBmmdudz9b0hqaPTWs/s320/IMG_20130911_094545.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">True friends know your "ugly face."</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<br />
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">Strengths, vulnerabilities, mistakes, first loves and second loves and third loves, fears, joys, family issues and pet histories... we know it all. </span><br />
<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiRy0X2o6hOCSH5h3EPXBrcGxHMfyeGXXZUdVzsvHOl0uqWTFUp0UNJxLKvZtO-FYYsZ3ueaz6SbYA6YQIVuFBYMAfo-TMpJ0WLA4pRAhp8_z2L67x9Zz6uqpkWl-pJ536evpx-yS-V_ao/s1600/IMG_20130911_094321.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiRy0X2o6hOCSH5h3EPXBrcGxHMfyeGXXZUdVzsvHOl0uqWTFUp0UNJxLKvZtO-FYYsZ3ueaz6SbYA6YQIVuFBYMAfo-TMpJ0WLA4pRAhp8_z2L67x9Zz6uqpkWl-pJ536evpx-yS-V_ao/s320/IMG_20130911_094321.jpg" width="235" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">True friends know and love your dog as much as you do. Miss you, Marley!</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<br />
<br />
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">We had a secret language at one point in our life, and another where we spelled out all the words, and another when we just made up words and were awesome at creating paragraphs that we understood but no one else could. <br /><br />And another language... "Rach, grab that thing and put it on the thing by the other thing. Then put the thing in that thing on the thing." Yep, we could even decipher that. Probably still could. </span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"> <table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgsmbmZUoJIqgjKYILoKxdN5X4BE9kQmrwau2ZiFaFzaHJOGhNRW5GJmB9PQ4wUPGnZ3cAgEre8ixfRUrQ_WUIsTMKVKIoSCe8dmGqerhoRnf63ORzSARV5swT_PTVyov_hlgHLTNWfVxM/s1600/IMG_20130911_094356.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="208" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgsmbmZUoJIqgjKYILoKxdN5X4BE9kQmrwau2ZiFaFzaHJOGhNRW5GJmB9PQ4wUPGnZ3cAgEre8ixfRUrQ_WUIsTMKVKIoSCe8dmGqerhoRnf63ORzSARV5swT_PTVyov_hlgHLTNWfVxM/s320/IMG_20130911_094356.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">A true friend will HAUL BUTT to your house to get your National Honor Society collar, almost missing the graduation ceremony, because you forgot it. <br />
You're welcome. :) <br />
(Yes, this picture is us, speeding down a country road to make it to graduation on time. <br />
Because that is how we roll.)</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
</span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">When I broke my foot, she was my chauffeur. </span><br />
<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgNt-AgKllAFqqlLsgsEPb5vWgXAww0dQiMNkN4y8fFQoQanY8RDd9G4oQW6ieoMfoNfuQe5c5r_q6ot7H8GRgphyphenhyphenEK_UbAc3o5wfkhVbj6FVMOPUuy3oOPoEGT_dkpmhBRLnNIoIngThw/s1600/IMG_20130911_094351.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="201" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgNt-AgKllAFqqlLsgsEPb5vWgXAww0dQiMNkN4y8fFQoQanY8RDd9G4oQW6ieoMfoNfuQe5c5r_q6ot7H8GRgphyphenhyphenEK_UbAc3o5wfkhVbj6FVMOPUuy3oOPoEGT_dkpmhBRLnNIoIngThw/s320/IMG_20130911_094351.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">I believe this was when I almost got in a fight at Sonic (for mouthing off), and she sped off for me. <br />
Thanks, friend. THAT would have been messy...</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
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<br />
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">We were roommates to each other (first in the dorms, then I was the girl on the couch, then I was the girl on the couch again, then we had a house together), and counselors for each other a zillion times. </span><br />
<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjYU-u-tMNhVovvC2joRX29ce3d6YOMS91_ty7nr4Sg8nrozOxK0ik-akGg3h7JBpve9HAfM6Te7dUmFxsPCK_9wEnwNjPlbhZjgbAyoprXrjvmWSAhvGpUB7pKoL_VEfNjqUeEXe93mjo/s1600/IMG_20130911_094446.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="213" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjYU-u-tMNhVovvC2joRX29ce3d6YOMS91_ty7nr4Sg8nrozOxK0ik-akGg3h7JBpve9HAfM6Te7dUmFxsPCK_9wEnwNjPlbhZjgbAyoprXrjvmWSAhvGpUB7pKoL_VEfNjqUeEXe93mjo/s320/IMG_20130911_094446.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Cheers-ing to a clean house. 35th Street. Memories flood in!</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<br />
<br />
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">We disagreed and argued, and I probably cried but she probably didn't because I'm lame like that... but nothing broke us. </span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"> <table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjNkkynljc6BReb5PT0Z7iy0AoNsM5FY5lLRDpajS1-RYArvoFT6j7yHj-XLw4U4EjtXBMLKc3D3p7gnba_phI7kerI_Ofwcjbbbr4XLLYd1Gh6ukwAgr-p-06eSFBqmGX0YlOF8fP4DIc/s1600/IMG_20130911_094241.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjNkkynljc6BReb5PT0Z7iy0AoNsM5FY5lLRDpajS1-RYArvoFT6j7yHj-XLw4U4EjtXBMLKc3D3p7gnba_phI7kerI_Ofwcjbbbr4XLLYd1Gh6ukwAgr-p-06eSFBqmGX0YlOF8fP4DIc/s320/IMG_20130911_094241.jpg" width="219" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">We were also quite crafty and could probably run a multi-billion dollar industry<br />
if either of us could ever stay focused on anything!</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
</span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">We were partners in crime and in tye-dying my couch with Kool-Aid packets. </span><br />
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">(Rachael, if you have that picture, you'd better get it to me asap.)</span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">We talked on the phone and texted, laughing, from rooms on opposite sides of the hallway when a boy wouldn't leave our house and slipped a note under her door because he couldn't get over how beautiful she is. WEIRDO!!!</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><br /></span>
<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjt73bIWzcTdIJvxeblTNkIK8IbJuobqEb1yxOaioAe7gbRzDSLGDBAj-AtEHqF0rXSu5UfLbwLwonAIu6hb7B0kJ4ZCy6_odRczywWyfdZiXxnQX_veetCOfdl5LAbBchVPJPVKS_fXz8/s1600/IMG_20130911_094405.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjt73bIWzcTdIJvxeblTNkIK8IbJuobqEb1yxOaioAe7gbRzDSLGDBAj-AtEHqF0rXSu5UfLbwLwonAIu6hb7B0kJ4ZCy6_odRczywWyfdZiXxnQX_veetCOfdl5LAbBchVPJPVKS_fXz8/s320/IMG_20130911_094405.jpg" width="240" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">A true friend helps you clean ashes out of your eyes when you spit in an ash tray like an IDIOT...<br />
even if she DOES think your pain is hilarious. </td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<br />
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">She sat with me when I was 21 and pregnant. And she loves my "leetle" like her own family. </span><br />
<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgTmlWxIKHdAiVBgIfZl6ZahAUH_p5Nox05iQrIpWyFDFdAxMV39mT62u8ugD1ENHAbDzUC-nXrXTEluk2Q77azWu7uXNGNE1UrvbzV2ZWlaO5M6DOjG9zLZQNpsHVDqypcyiUbYFJ_LBE/s1600/IMG_20130911_094216.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="219" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgTmlWxIKHdAiVBgIfZl6ZahAUH_p5Nox05iQrIpWyFDFdAxMV39mT62u8ugD1ENHAbDzUC-nXrXTEluk2Q77azWu7uXNGNE1UrvbzV2ZWlaO5M6DOjG9zLZQNpsHVDqypcyiUbYFJ_LBE/s320/IMG_20130911_094216.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">This may or may not have been seconds before she dropped baby food and <br />
may or may not have spewed vulgarities at my baby shower. BWAHAHAHAHAH</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<br />
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">She lived across the sidewalk from me in one of our many ghetto housing units, and Annie surprised her with a "happy birthday." (Jeff put that together!) </span><br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgoj-a_RSGdhjgnGNSfIR72jkmFUk7HarKopmmkGv3-CjZGUHyDq0om6atKMtrs3gVwOenoV8A1RqKUvUrpe4fxYDjVfJuzjf0kL7sHD31645QZc_urSghsc7jV59aKnI5THyehjKWumpM/s1600/IMG_20130911_094257.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgoj-a_RSGdhjgnGNSfIR72jkmFUk7HarKopmmkGv3-CjZGUHyDq0om6atKMtrs3gVwOenoV8A1RqKUvUrpe4fxYDjVfJuzjf0kL7sHD31645QZc_urSghsc7jV59aKnI5THyehjKWumpM/s320/IMG_20130911_094257.jpg" width="246" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Waiting to say happy birthday to Aunt Rachael!</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<br />
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">She supported me when I got engaged to a boy I'd been dating six weeks, and she stood by me when life seemed to be falling apart. </span><br />
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjvz0d-s6IZf9V2rKdZ3cJMGvblIx8GgDJjIKFWYaNjieMJXQVAqyTucMTjaJ3m1ldyCL2BJrhHltTAj4LWR-JXrSnSDf9MYiwUnQnWjFQ00cyr9gDjlt3MxfbWdq2vSRlfzEgp49xauHk/s1600/IMG_20130911_094223.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="318" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjvz0d-s6IZf9V2rKdZ3cJMGvblIx8GgDJjIKFWYaNjieMJXQVAqyTucMTjaJ3m1ldyCL2BJrhHltTAj4LWR-JXrSnSDf9MYiwUnQnWjFQ00cyr9gDjlt3MxfbWdq2vSRlfzEgp49xauHk/s320/IMG_20130911_094223.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>
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<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">When I screwed up worse than I ever had, in my entire life, and I was having a literal mental breakdown, SHE is the one I called. And she dropped what she was doing, and came to me. She listened, she loved me, with no judgement. </span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">I plotted revenge when her heart was broken by a boy. I may or may not have carried out said revenge from time to time, at least in my head. </span><br />
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">I can't talk about most of our memories because we were the craziest people I've ever met. But MAN, did we have fun! And we only reaped the consequences SOME of the time, which is a pretty good ratio...</span><br />
<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjFk1Fqleokz3M1LvmfdVIQOdgPr1oxQEqMY471dlXjk8hFQqYPgIshslnC4x4-btIKeBNvnCcubHHd3Txz8vJmfv7U7Snxn1sPq8yCdsEgfvdfDdNTzg8nPvffAlE8KJVGPO3RydSqSVU/s1600/IMG_20130911_094428.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="238" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjFk1Fqleokz3M1LvmfdVIQOdgPr1oxQEqMY471dlXjk8hFQqYPgIshslnC4x4-btIKeBNvnCcubHHd3Txz8vJmfv7U7Snxn1sPq8yCdsEgfvdfDdNTzg8nPvffAlE8KJVGPO3RydSqSVU/s320/IMG_20130911_094428.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Hanging out with my Leetle.</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<br />
<br />
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">We were so smart, and so funny, and so beautiful. We're still so smart and so funny and so beautiful. And though life causes us to be too busy, or too far... she's the best friend a girl could ask for, and I'd hate to go the rest of my life without telling her just how much I love her! </span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">We are soul sisters. She IS my sister! I like to think I'm the sister she never had. The prettier, smarter, funnier sister. <br /><br />Just kidding. She's prettier. And probably smarter in some areas. But I'm pretty funny, so I'll take claim to that. </span><br />
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><br /></span>
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjf8c559VpQfAMV4XCAOPtfdZ7Ko7c5nWl6PhXaL-Iyh_fUH86PeklSO7xLQ09lgZg7gNQAYClXDCBGRrav6gGf_y8Q_idbq1BaS6xR0hwF6MEFxKJRG4O3fjgeFJd7uSD4mUR50MIzgS8/s1600/IMG_20130911_094558.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjf8c559VpQfAMV4XCAOPtfdZ7Ko7c5nWl6PhXaL-Iyh_fUH86PeklSO7xLQ09lgZg7gNQAYClXDCBGRrav6gGf_y8Q_idbq1BaS6xR0hwF6MEFxKJRG4O3fjgeFJd7uSD4mUR50MIzgS8/s320/IMG_20130911_094558.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"></span><br />
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"></span><br />
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><br />She let me borrow clothes and was the one who kept me in the loop with bars and friends and new friends and new music. I kept tabs on her keys and knew when to tell her not to rip her hair out. Oh, and kept the creeps away from her, which was sometimes a hard job considering she was always the exotic red-head at the bar. </span><br />
<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgPDdZ62WxEnVg-i-VMwADH3S-Jhy0xCpJ2IyCkky3qkG8TkgbfId1VDArJE5V3Ns-RKHWVcdwZ9dZIh7A208bS__QTLTYngcTo484hLH9A16CnGBPbAj1qEq2S48easoofxpKV4geZAZQ/s1600/rach+2.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgPDdZ62WxEnVg-i-VMwADH3S-Jhy0xCpJ2IyCkky3qkG8TkgbfId1VDArJE5V3Ns-RKHWVcdwZ9dZIh7A208bS__QTLTYngcTo484hLH9A16CnGBPbAj1qEq2S48easoofxpKV4geZAZQ/s320/rach+2.jpg" width="240" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">I think we've been to like 100,000 concerts together. <br />
A true friend dances like crazy with you at all those concerts! </td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">Cheers to best friends, to lifelong friends, to friends who know all the stupid and idiotic and illegal and life-threatening and impulsive and wrong things you've done... but love you anyway. Cheers to friends who let you talk however you want, but hold you accountable for your choices. Cheers to friends who listen to you cry over and over and over and over again about a guy, and tell you what they think, but still love you and support your relationship anyway. </span><br />
<br />
<br />
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"> Cheers to friends who never tire of hoping for happiness for you, who never get jealous about anything you do or have done, but only want success for you and will cheer you on every step until you reach it. </span><br />
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"></span><br />
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"></span>
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">Cheers to my best friend, who is all those things and more. </span><br />
<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi218ygXu8Z6zuy_R_6xz2jrnIRF84uA2RruchHN3NyirIVSiapuK08_a6lzMaW9SHJKHNptOOGZ8Ffnxiy4L1OgqARMUCInCT3BtAsPYJKeStt9U4GMV5CDNHZphQ2k6RfyWJQwu8llYw/s1600/rach.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi218ygXu8Z6zuy_R_6xz2jrnIRF84uA2RruchHN3NyirIVSiapuK08_a6lzMaW9SHJKHNptOOGZ8Ffnxiy4L1OgqARMUCInCT3BtAsPYJKeStt9U4GMV5CDNHZphQ2k6RfyWJQwu8llYw/s320/rach.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Because we cool like that. </td></tr>
</tbody></table>
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<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">Rach is getting married in one month from today. And my heart bursts with happiness for her and the lucky guy who snagged her. She's going to make a helluva bride, and I pray for them and their marriage every day. </span></span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">LYLAS, Rachael Michelle. Yours is one of the only birthdays I have memorized, which you know is kind of a big deal. :) </span>Jessicahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07299811735368540596noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7266249040009188813.post-44211281860620729702013-11-20T12:48:00.001-08:002013-11-20T12:48:31.880-08:0018, 19, 20<div class="MsoNormal" style="tab-stops: 189.0pt;">
<span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"><b><b>November </b>18</b>
– A body part. (Draw a discreet "Thank you" sign - a word, a heart, a
cross, a TY, something - on or near that body part today. Whenever you
see it, give thanks for it today. I would steer clear of making marks on
your face, however....)</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"><b>November 19</b> –
Something non-living. (Random add-on: At the end of your post today,
write a sentence about the item you're grateful for in your refrigerator
at this moment.)</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"><b>November 20</b> – An animal. </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;">Yeah, embarrassing that I can't keep up with my own blog! Heere we go. :) </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;">18: My feet. And I'm drawing "THANK YOU" on them today, and every time I see it, I'm going to thank God that I have them, and that they work! </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;">19: Rainbows. They're such an amazing display in nature. I stand in awe when I see one. Every. Single. Time. </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;">Soy sauce and Sriracha. Peanut veggie stirfry would never be the same without it. </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;">20: Thank God for puppies. My Jake and Marbles probably don't get NEAR enough attention, but I LOVE THEM! They're my buddies, and my back yard wouldn't be the same without them! </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;">The end. :)</span></div>
Jessicahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07299811735368540596noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7266249040009188813.post-29046570963773127052013-11-16T17:03:00.002-08:002013-11-16T17:03:54.929-08:00Thankfullness and Excuses<span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;">Well, it's been a busy couple weeks. Aaaand, right before things got REALLY busy, my computer crashed. </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;">Okay, well, it didn't really CRASH, so much as the power cord fizzled out. So, easy fix. Amazon apparently doesn't ship power cords to my town (?!?!?!), so I ordered one from my folks' house and had it shipped there so they could mail it to me. Long story short, I'm back and back to blogging. </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;">So, now that my explanations are out of the way, I've got some catching up to do! </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"><b><b>November </b>7 </b>– A song that, whenever you hear
it, makes you grateful for something. </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;">Gorillaz's Clint Eastwood. It reminds me of a time in my life when things were incredibly easy and fun! Memories of my besties, Rach and Trina, in their house on 32nd Street (where I was "the girl on the couch" - I even had drawers for my things in the bathroom), and all the friends and fun that accompanied those late teen/early 20s years. I'm so grateful that I have such fun memories!<br /><br />It also just makes me want to wear shades and dance. </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"><b><b>November </b>8</b> – A family member. What is something that person does that makes your life better or easier?</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;">My sister is my best friend, and she's my advice giver, my rant listener, my "go for it" giver, and the only one to whom I've sent my entire novel in progress for review. (Other than my novel partner in crime, Christy Jones! Holla!) She is the ultimate friend, and I'm so blessed that she also happens to be my sister... </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"><b><b>November </b>11</b> – A freedom that you have that
people in other parts of the world may not. Whatever it is, do it today, and give thanks to God that you can do it!<br /><br />I can blog. I can say whatever I wish, whenever I wish. And I don't fear being arrested and put to death. I can write. And speak in public. And vote. And birth children, and get married, and cook, and shop, and drive. I can be anything I want to be. And that is a lot of freedom. Proud to be American!</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"><b><b>November </b>12 </b>– The person that taught you to
drive. <br /><br />I took care of this one on Facebook...<br /><br /><span class="userContent" data-ft="{"tn":"K"}">Today,
I'm grateful to my dad and Darth for teaching me to drive. And Coach
Rob. That had to be a scary job! The people and things we take for
granted... what a blessing to have the freedom to drive where and when
we want and need!</span></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"><b><b>November </b>13 </b>– Something that you see that
makes you grateful for eye sight. <br /><br />Sunrise. Sunset. Rainbow. Sky. Clouds. Thunderclouds. Lightening. <br />Everything beautiful that God made that would turn our faces UP toward him!</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"><b><b>November </b>14</b>
– A stranger. We have
encounters with strangers every day, but occasionally one stands out.
Who has impacted your life and will probably never know it?<br /><br />There are a lot of little strangers that impact my life. I look at their pictures sometimes, when I can stomach feeling the longing that it creates in my heart. The faces of the children in the foster care system grow my heart. They grow my love. They grow my compassion. They make me want to do more, to do better, to make my life and home available for them. I'm grateful for their distant smiles. They grow my prayer life, as I pray to someday be a mother to some of them! I'd take them all if I could.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"><b>November 15</b> – A friend in your neighborhood
or area. <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">(Invite that person to dinner at your house.)<br /><br />My neighbor, across the street, moved in three days after we did. Their daughter is around A1's age, and they're good friends. The momma has been a Godsend to me in this town where I have made very few friends. She reminds me to take it easy, to not worry so much about things that don't matter (her phrase is "no worries." I've started using it pretty frequently.), reminds me that very few things <i>actually</i> matter, and has been the best neighbor I've ever had! So blessed that God put us together to face this new land together. :) <br /><br />Much love! So happy to be back in the blogosphere!<br />Jeska</span></span></div>
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</span>Jessicahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07299811735368540596noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7266249040009188813.post-26107603091169199882013-11-06T06:36:00.000-08:002013-11-06T06:38:20.406-08:00November 6: MariaNovember 6: A friend at church or a club you attend.
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Moving to a new town and dipping my toes into a new church was scary. I didn't want to do it.
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But God is good, and He provides.
<br><br>My new church hosts some really great people. They are happy to see new faces, and are open to our presence and our gifts. I've met some good people already. But one stands out.
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Maria, today I am thankful for you! I thank God that you're my age, have toddlers, and above all else, are fun to talk to and sit around with - even spontaneously or when my house is a mess.
<br><br>I already love your precious kiddos, and I look forward to building our friendship. God bless you and your family, my new friend!
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<br><br>I can't end without giving props to my St. Joseph church family. I love you, I misssssss yooooou, and I'll forever be grateful for the roles you all played in my life and the life and growth of my family. Christy Jones, you were the first, but you'll get your own blog eventually. The rest of my lovely ladies and their husbands... you all helped change our life into something special! Love you! Jessicahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07299811735368540596noreply@blogger.com1