tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-29192080351296299302024-02-20T10:08:23.461-08:00Sunshine Mama and The BoysThoughts, stories, and experiences from this crazy journey in pursuit of love, peace, and happiness.Unknownnoreply@blogger.comBlogger27125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2919208035129629930.post-8130546255986906232013-01-06T17:22:00.003-08:002013-01-06T17:22:59.570-08:00Tomorrow! TOMORROW!Tonight I seem to have reached the point where there isn't anything left to put into boxes. This is good, because moving day is TOMORROW. We are signing the lease at 10 am! I can't believe how quickly this has all happened. I can't believe we're going to have a HOUSE! With a YARD! And a darling little front porch, and a fence, and a little shed, and there are just so many things I'm excited about! This is the first time in my life that I haven't had a yard, and it's been a year and a half and it's been absolutely long enough. We have big plans for that little piece of the earth!<br />
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Today we've been eating whatever is left in the house, packing whatever is left, and doing whatever it takes to get by. Amazingly I didn't turn on the TV to distract the kids until 3 pm, so they haven't received too much brain damage today. Lunch was tortilla chips, blueberries, and apple slices with peanut butter. My portion was shoved into my mouth by my 2 year old, whose hands were pretty sticky and gross, and the chips he gave me were slightly soggy and had a funky taste that I couldn't identify. Just another one of the adventures of moving to a new place, though - and did I mention that it's TOMORROW?<br />
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Also, hooray for our decision to order pizza for the first dinner in our new house, because after this past week I am really looking forward to getting the last of the things moved in, sitting down, and not having to think of anything for dinner other than what toppings I'd prefer!Unknownnoreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2919208035129629930.post-83152196856200471842013-01-04T00:15:00.003-08:002013-01-04T00:15:59.330-08:00Moving MountainsWell, moving one mountain, anyway. Today, in preparation for the next few days when The Man will be at work and I'll be home with the kids trying to get things packed on my own, I moved The Mountain (basically everything that belongs in both bedrooms) from the spot where it took up about 2/3 of our living room to the bedroom which I completely emptied yesterday. I could actually feel the tension level falling in the house as The Mountain disappeared from the living room and in its place grew a pleasant little arrangement of toys for the kids. They'll be able to safely hang out in the living room, and I can close off the bedroom where everything is stacked in boxes. On moving day (four more days!!) it will be very easy to just move the boxes from where they're stacked to where trucks are waiting in the parking lot.<br />
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Random thought for the night. Our new place has a washer/dryer hookup, but we don't have a washing machine or the funds to purchase one right away. I like to think of homemade solutions, though, so I've been thinking about a solution that involves some scavenged parts from a broken washing machine for the time being. I think it would be pretty easy to build some kind of barrel that holds the drum from inside a washing machine, and the clothes could be washed pretty easily by sloshing and agitating them with some wash water in the drum. The biggest issue would be squeezing enough water out of the clothing so that it could hang to dry effectively, but The Man suggested a design involving a bicycle, so that I could pedal it and spin it around pretty quickly. I admit that we've been hooked on watching <a href="http://dsc.discovery.com/tv/colony/" target="_blank">The Colony</a> lately, and in the interest of full disclosure they did build some kind of bicycle washing machine contraption in the first season, so that may have had an impact on our plan. I should mention that the washer hookup is outdoors, just outside the back entrance to the house. There's definitely no space in the house to build any kind of nonsense with a broken washer or a bicycle in any form. I'm kind of excited about this project, though, even just to see if I can actually put this thing together!Unknownnoreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2919208035129629930.post-29870010712513155272013-01-02T22:33:00.003-08:002013-01-02T22:34:06.204-08:00Moving FrenzyWhen we woke up yesterday morning, our apartment looked normal. Now we have a mountain of packed boxes in the living room, one completely empty bedroom, and one bedroom where the four of us are living like vagabonds with all of our beds and the clothes we need for the next few days. Toys and crafts for the kids are packed but easily accessible, and an empty room means a safe place for them to play while I pack and organize. It's all coming together, and in less than a week we'll be in our new place.<br />
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Moving day will be the 7th. It's really happening, and it's in just a few days! We're beyond excited and very frazzled as we're making this all come together. Today one of our neighbors here at the apartment very kindly offered to help us move with his flatbed trailer, which will save us the cost of getting a UHaul trailer. Several other friends have spontaneously offered their trucks and help with childcare, and we're so thankful! When we first made these plans there was a moment of panic about how we'd pull it all together, but then offers of moving help started to come in and we realized it was possible.<br />
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And today, getting one of the bedrooms completely empty, I felt like we'd achieved something that seemed impossible at first. That was a mountain of work when we got started on it, and by the end of the day as I picked up the last couple of things and our wonderful six year old got to work vacuuming the floor, it was a real sense of accomplishment that I know we all felt.<br />
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Tonight my legs are sore, my feet ache as if I've walked up a mountain, and there are bruises on both of my arms from where I've lifted countless boxes and crates. Thankfully the hard work and the stretching has remedied the sore spot in my neck from a bad night of sleep a few nights ago. My head is throbbing from a headache that has come and gone over the past 24 hours, and I am about to crawl into my warm bed in our little family den and hopefully get a few hours of some deep, restorative sleep.<br />
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The 7th. Just a few more days. We can do this!!Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2919208035129629930.post-32676381136996471882013-01-01T22:55:00.000-08:002013-01-01T22:55:17.176-08:00A New House for a New Year!This has all happened so quickly. It had been MONTHS since I'd even been on Craigslist. Our budget has been incredibly tight for several months and moving was completely out of the question. It's even still sort of out of the question, except all of a sudden it's actually happening.<br />
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On the night of the 30th I was feeling a little down about how long it was going to be before we could get ourselves a little piece of land somewhere. Then, as I was getting ready for bed, I had A Feeling. <b>I've been trying to pay heed to my Feelings because they seem to always mean something important is getting ready to happen.</b> I thought to myself, I wonder how much we can get a little chunk of land for if it's a private sale, we've only been looking at Realtor prices so far. I'd already turned off my computer for the night, but I turned it back on and got online. On Craigslist I narrowed the results down to our town before narrowing it down to "land" and I'm glad that I did, because there it was. <b>The listing for a little house, with a little yard, and a little shed, just the place we need for our little family, for the same price we pay right now.</b><br />
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Right away I emailed the owner, and when I checked the next morning I saw that she'd replied almost immediately. She asked us to drive by and check it out in person before setting an appointment, which we did right away, and we got to go inside with her and see it this morning. Oh my goodness. <b>This little house is cute from the outside, but absolutely adorable on the inside.</b> It's not in perfect condition, but nothing ever is, including the apartment we're already living in so I will not be picky.<br />
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She told me, during our appointment, that the timing of the whole thing is "funny." She said that a couple of other people called before we did, but that because of the weekend and the holiday they were unable to find a time to meet up. We were the first ones who were able to get down there and lay claim to it. She was hesitant because of our two kids - it's a tiny house. We are very confident about being able to live comfortably in there, though, and it's really not much tinier than where we currently live - and we don't have any outside area here!<br />
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It's the first day of a new year, and while we had our struggles in 2012, it was such a positive year for our family in so many ways. If the first day is any indication, 2013 is going to be amazing! Here goes a new adventure!Unknownnoreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2919208035129629930.post-6158303098892713982012-11-07T13:48:00.000-08:002012-11-07T13:51:37.121-08:00Our Journey to Equality<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh6Wr2opUusx-Z7RnuvOC60cNZ-4ihGYI49EOKs0AIqNMseFNDjQUhXhMeoNU1xhx7FUnufxF_L_7Age-B5kpAIUAptwUgtJAIvcwEbMnI1Iy2umzFJL1CZP3BSWGiKZIYOwaZIGZN6ObM/s1600/5829914257_aaca02e4fd_b.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh6Wr2opUusx-Z7RnuvOC60cNZ-4ihGYI49EOKs0AIqNMseFNDjQUhXhMeoNU1xhx7FUnufxF_L_7Age-B5kpAIUAptwUgtJAIvcwEbMnI1Iy2umzFJL1CZP3BSWGiKZIYOwaZIGZN6ObM/s320/5829914257_aaca02e4fd_b.jpg" width="230" /></a><span id="internal-source-marker_0.9871416168753058"><span style="vertical-align: baseline;"><span style="font-family: Arial;"><span style="font-size: 15px; white-space: pre-wrap;"><b>Last night Americans spoke loudly in favor of equality.</b> We sent a clear message, and it wasn't so much a message about the candidates as it was about the issues. </span></span></span><br /><span style="font-family: Arial; font-size: 15px; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"></span><br /><span style="vertical-align: baseline;"><span style="font-family: Arial;"><span style="font-size: 15px; white-space: pre-wrap;">Equality has always been one of the top issues for me. Gay, lesbian, bisexual, and </span></span><span style="font-family: Arial;"><span style="font-size: 15px; white-space: pre-wrap;">transgender</span></span><span style="font-family: Arial;"><span style="font-size: 15px; white-space: pre-wrap;"> people are a part of our society, always have been and always will be, and the idea that an entire group of Americans should be systematically discriminated against is appalling to me. </span></span></span><br /><span style="font-family: Arial; font-size: 15px; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"></span><br /><span style="font-family: Arial; font-size: 15px; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">Twelve years ago I got involved with my first political campaign - the Yes on 6 campaign in Maine. I got involved in this effort through the gay/straight alliance group at school. We worked hard. We made phone calls from our own phones, went door to door, wrote letters, passed around petitions, and drove people to the polls. <b>We heard countless stories from Maine citizens who had been fired, bullied out of their jobs, evicted from their homes or denied housing in the first place</b> - not to mention the stories that had been there all along about people in long-term committed relationships being unable to visit their sick partner in the hospital or receive health or life insurance benefits. <b>We also had countless experiences of being shouted at, cursed at, and threatened by people who were very uncomfortable with the idea of ending these forms of discrimination.</b> There was a lot of energy on our side of the campaign, though, and we were full of hope that we would be part of the group that would really bring about change, equality for ALL Americans no matter who we love in our private lives.</span><br /><span style="font-family: Arial; font-size: 15px; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"></span><br /><span style="font-family: Arial; font-size: 15px; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">But despite the energy on our side, there was a lot of resistance on the other side, and we ended up losing. It was the same year that Al Gore lost to George W. Bush in a highly controversial election that was riddled with many different kinds of fraud, and the despair among our group of equality supporters was palpable. </span><br /><span style="font-family: Arial; font-size: 15px; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"></span><br /><span style="font-family: Arial; font-size: 15px; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">Even though we lost that particular fight, as time went by we started to see something happening. It was happening in Maine, but it was also happening all over the country. <b>Over the past decade, there has been a lot of lively national - no, GLOBAL - discussion about marriage equality, and there has been an incredible shift.</b> Twelve years ago I was about as discouraged as I could get, but since then as months, years, and entire campaign seasons have gone by, I’ve been so proud to see a new landscape unfolding.</span><br /><span style="font-family: Arial; font-size: 15px; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"></span><br /><span style="font-family: Arial; font-size: 15px; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"><b>Equal rights for GLBT people has been a defining civil rights issue for our generation.</b> The debate in our country has gone on and on, but the voices who speak out against discrimination have been speaking louder and louder, and last night our voices were heard loud and clear.</span><br /><span style="font-family: Arial; font-size: 15px; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"></span><br /><span style="font-family: Arial; font-size: 15px; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">We don’t have the right to use our own religious and moral beliefs to deny a normal, legal marriage and family life to an entire group of American people. It is not okay for people of a particular religion or philosophy to continue insisting that their way is the only “moral” or “right” way. And this is not an attack on religion - <b>it has nothing to do with religion.</b> It has everything to do with the rights of a substantial percentage of the American population. Our right to work, live, love, raise our families and contribute to our societies in peace and safety. </span><br /><span style="font-family: Arial; font-size: 15px; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"></span><br /><span style="font-family: Arial; font-size: 15px; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"><b>Giving equal rights to all Americans, whether gay, straight, bisexual, transgender, or none of the above, does not revoke anyone else’s right to live their own life, worship their own God, or raise their own family. </b></span><br /><span style="font-family: Arial; font-size: 15px; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"></span><br /><span style="font-family: Arial; font-size: 15px; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">Today, the day after America banded together and voted for equality, I am beaming with pride. I’m incredibly proud to have played a small role in the work we’ve done. I’m proud to be involved in this movement for equal rights, and excited about what the future holds. As I’ve gotten older and hopefully wiser, this issue has only gotten more important to me. <b>There is so much that is uncertain in our world, and Americans should have the right to be confident in the security of their own family.</b></span><br /><span style="font-family: Arial; font-size: 15px; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"></span><br /><span style="font-family: Arial; font-size: 15px; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">There’s still a lot of work to do, but I’m seeing the tide turn and I’m overwhelmed with pride for our incredible country. We have been testing the water with anti-discrimination laws and domestic partnerships. There have been tremendously discouraging votes that were very close but ended up voting down equality, but<b> there is a ripple effect underway.</b> We have put our collective foot down. Last night we spoke up in Maine, Maryland, Minnesota, and Washington State. We’ve already spoken in Massachusetts, Connecticut, Iowa, Vermont, New Hampshire, New York, and Washington DC. </span><br /><span style="font-family: Arial; font-size: 15px; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"></span><br /><span style="vertical-align: baseline;"><span style="font-family: Arial;"><span style="font-size: 15px; white-space: pre-wrap;">Beyond elected officials and ballot measures, we've grown so much as individuals and as a society. <b>We speak out against hateful slurs, against bullying, and against discrimination in many forms. </b>We've used our power as consumers, as voters, and as concerned citizens to send the message over and over again, all across our country, that <b>we will not stand by while our we, or our friends, relatives, coworkers, neighbors, sons, daughters, parents, receive different treatment under the law because of the gender of the person they happened to fall in love with.</b> We will no longer stand by and allow a policy of discrimination to cast a shadow over American families. </span></span></span><br /><span style="font-family: Arial; font-size: 15px; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"></span><br /><span style="font-family: Arial; font-size: 15px; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"><b>If you are against gay marriage, then don’t marry a gay person.</b> But there is no way in which allowing GLBT couples the same rights as straight couples will cause harm. <b>Conflicts between religious beliefs and someone elses civil rights should be handled in churches, not in our government.</b> We are all Americans and we have equal right to live and love in the United States of America, and the group of us who believes in equality is only continuing to grow. </span><br /><span style="font-family: Arial; font-size: 15px; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"></span><br /><span style="font-family: Arial; font-size: 15px; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">I’m an incredibly proud American today. My heart is full of hope and optimism. <b>No harm can come from letting go of old and hurtful patterns. When we focus only on our differences we drive ourselves farther and farther apart.</b> Let us join hands and walk together into our future and focus on how we can bring our country together.</span></span>Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2919208035129629930.post-49162730521416869192012-07-19T16:39:00.002-07:002012-07-19T16:41:25.940-07:00The Joy of Music in our homeDuring my six years of mothering, there have been countless times when I've been touched by how special a particular moment is. Watching a baby take those cautious first steps; seeing a young child struggle with something that seems simple to me and then witnessing the pure joy and pride that washes over him when he finally gets it all by himself; listening to him read a book from cover to cover for the first time. There are so many important "firsts" that happen in family life. Lately, though, our six year old has been taking beginner piano lessons, and I believe that this experience has been the biggest "miracle" in my parenting journey so far.<br />
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What a joy it is to have our home filled with music while I'm working on dinner in the afternoon, and to have that music come from our young son! He's only a few lessons in, but he's already reading simple sheet music, practicing short songs, and - my personal favorite - working very hard at his little keyboard, composing his own tunes. He sits with his tongue fixed at the side of his mouth, an extremely serious expression, and he barely hears anybody who walks by him or even speaks to him. He loves the "record" feature on the keyboard, and he'll sit for half an hour or more just lost in his own world, creating a little performance using the sounds of all the different instruments. His shoulders bop and groove in perfect tune with the music, and I have visions of him in 20 or 30 years sitting in a studio with fancy headphones on his ears and the latest and greatest recording equipment in front of him, bopping along to the beat in the same way he does now at his little borrowed keyboard.<br />
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His goal is to get into drum lessons, when his wonderful music teacher starts teaching a section for his age group, but he really enjoys piano and wants to keep playing that too. For now we can only afford one music lesson each week anyway, so having him in beginner piano is perfect, and it will be a good precursor to drums when he is able to start that.<br />
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We don't have a particularly musical household. We listen to music often, many different kinds of music, but The Man and I only casually pluck around on a guitar and Bug is now the only person in our family who knows how to read music - a fact that he's pretty impressed about, judging by the smirk in the corners of his mouth when it came up in conversation. As soon as he expressed an interest in music, though, we wanted to grab a hold of that and nurture it in him. Some research online led me to a local music group where I found a wonderful woman who teaches group music lessons out of her home, so for only $10 each week (compared to $25 weekly or more for the lessons at music shops and other businesses) we're able to help him develop his musical talent at an early age, even though we don't have the skills ourselves to teach him.<br />
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He first expressed an interest in learning music during kindergarten. Every Wednesday was music day and he would look forward to it eagerly. He was always prancing around the house singing the songs from class and telling us about interesting instruments he'd learned about. Towards the end of the school year we found out that the budget for formal music instruction was cut, as is sadly often the case, but we'd seen him become so excited about music that we knew we had to find a way to keep him learning. Now, to see him working so hard at the keyboard, the smile on his face when he plays a song all the way through, to hear the beautiful sounds of his music and the notes that become smoother and more confident each time they're played through, I really am experiencing one of the greatest blessings of my parenting career.<br />
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Crawling, walking, self-feeding, talking, using the potty, even reading - these are very exciting and meaningful events, such a big moment in a family's life. As our children have learned these skills I've felt proud of them and proud of helping them learn and practice. As he's learning to make music, though, it's like watching him develop a gift that is divinely inspired. I believe that people with artistic gifts, like a gift for music, painting, or dance, can tune in to something bigger than themselves while doing their creative work. It has been said that well known artists have "had God in his hands" and that about sums up my beliefs. It makes my heart absolutely swell with pride to see our son growing up and developing this incredible gift.Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2919208035129629930.post-1815726058104642672012-06-06T09:59:00.001-07:002012-06-06T10:00:49.456-07:00Being Compassionate Doesn't Mean Allowing Yourself to be Blamed or AbusedIt's interesting, the feeling that I get when I am reminded to be more sensitive to someone when I feel that I've given them an extraordinary amount of sensitivity. It's a funny kind of conflict. I think we have all experienced this feeling to some degree.<br />
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On one hand we all have a deeply human need to share our stories with others and to justify our experiences. This is an important part of how we connect with each other, a crucial part of the survival of social animals like humans. When I have offered compassion and understanding and sensitivity and then reach a point where it feels like it doesn't even matter, I want to be able to justify that. I want to spout off with righteous indignation sometimes, to find a way to MAKE someone understand where I'm coming from. To feel like I fit in with my "tribe" of people, I need to know that they understand me and that they still support me.<br />
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On the other hand, it doesn't matter whether anyone else understands my point of view. While I might sometimes feel isolated in my opinions or emotions, that is my own experience and nobody else needs to get involved, and certainly nobody "needs" to understand my point of view.<br />
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One thing I consciously remind myself of is that it's important to have the courage to stand behind my own decisions. I am the only person who is responsible for myself and my actions. Emotions come and go and sometimes point a person in a variety of confusing directions, but once the dust settles it's important to choose a well thought out direction to go in. Life is always moving no matter how hard we try to slow it down, and every single day through our thoughts and actions we choose new directions. I won't try to pawn my own emotions off on anyone else, because I am responsible for the decisions that create my situation in life. When something makes me unhappy, I have the power to do something that feels better.<br />
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Since the only things I can control are my own actions, I do my best to choose those wisely. I strongly believe that we attract the kind of energy that we put out into the universe, so I try to keep my own energy positive. I make a point to keep inspirational quotes and images around our home and on the pages I frequent online. I frequently stop and connect with the earth and the energy around me, and I always remind myself that we are all very closely connected to each other and to the world around us. In these ways I can surround myself with reminders that life is greater and better than temporary frustrations.<br />
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I don't think people usually set out to intentionally cause harm, even when I feel like I've been deeply wronged. In my opinion, most human reactions and experiences are a complicated web of the current situation, bottled up feelings about similar situations, past experiences, the other people involved and more. Social circles take on lives of their own, relationships grow and change, and one person's experience with someone might be entirely different than another person's experience with them. We all sometimes need a reminder to be more patient, or more compassionate, or more sensitive.<br />
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For me it's sometimes difficult to walk that line between having compassion, and protecting myself from being used or mistreated. I don't think anybody deserves to be blamed for the pain of another person, or to limit their own personal growth out of fear of offending or upsetting someone. I won't set out to cause any kind of pain or harm to another person, but I also won't submit to someone's attempts to blame me for their yucky feelings. Your feelings and thoughts and reactions and behaviors are your own, just like mine are my own, and energy that goes towards blame and anger would be much better served going towards something that will bring positive results.Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2919208035129629930.post-71904250567520978582012-04-18T20:05:00.000-07:002012-04-18T20:05:51.420-07:00Size 18 to Size 8 - My Weight Loss Journey in Photos.<div style="text-align: center;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjlJEuzPuFUCLhkEIlXTez4DrGy2qT9FDLJKOQPdMV1JexFtS3ChxOgLymw-m2WdJn30RtIpzQE_8QGY5x2OHYBJr8-CQhtu1MIrA0PChD4LeT6WCmlszWmNIjajU-a__IdABaL22M8X08/s1600/005+(Medium).JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjlJEuzPuFUCLhkEIlXTez4DrGy2qT9FDLJKOQPdMV1JexFtS3ChxOgLymw-m2WdJn30RtIpzQE_8QGY5x2OHYBJr8-CQhtu1MIrA0PChD4LeT6WCmlszWmNIjajU-a__IdABaL22M8X08/s320/005+(Medium).JPG" width="183" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">Hi there! This is me. </span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">I'm known here as Sunshine Mama, and this is my story of gaining and then losing a whole bunch of weight. When we got married in 2005 I weighed about 135 pounds and was a size 6, the smallest I'd been in my teen and adult life. After my first pregnancy I started on a roller coaster of weight gain and then eventually weight loss. From 220 pounds to 155 pounds, from a snug size 18 to a slightly loose size 8, from 2006 to 2012 - this is the whole experience.</span></div><a name='more'></a><br />
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</span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi8SffVu6vjPfesR_NwA_O5ueO96A9o9LEQKnq1dMcjSx9-MBwPYv3Bdl4krkKIn8BUgHZDP58f8W8D5AJkX6lANlM_Bumx9StlXCg-3CV7Fg_-ItE7TimIyxItcm0G7hywCty0jUZzRMg/s1600/Pre+Sebastian.jpeg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><span style="font-family: inherit;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi8SffVu6vjPfesR_NwA_O5ueO96A9o9LEQKnq1dMcjSx9-MBwPYv3Bdl4krkKIn8BUgHZDP58f8W8D5AJkX6lANlM_Bumx9StlXCg-3CV7Fg_-ItE7TimIyxItcm0G7hywCty0jUZzRMg/s320/Pre+Sebastian.jpeg" width="234" /></span></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">September 2005. The beginning of the whole journey. I was a newlywed here, below a size 8 for the first time since my teens. I was proudly showing off my size 6 pants - I'd bought a bunch of cute new clothes for our honeymoon. That little bit of tummy there? I thought it was too much of a pooch and was self-conscious about it. Yeah. Time changes all perspectives, huh?</span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: inherit;"><br />
</span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgizdabuL44hn7woKEf26_uPQFH0aS4eH_nvsWuUFKtnGbJ9M9pYv_T4Z5R2Yk-_b1iMiazhRMWcoyz2XhJB3lvPMAuSdqUrYAil8Bg6tQFG8flT73fLTrv0EQEzpJe5nLb8-PMDZLvi1g/s1600/Almost+Post+Sebastian.jpeg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><span style="font-family: inherit;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgizdabuL44hn7woKEf26_uPQFH0aS4eH_nvsWuUFKtnGbJ9M9pYv_T4Z5R2Yk-_b1iMiazhRMWcoyz2XhJB3lvPMAuSdqUrYAil8Bg6tQFG8flT73fLTrv0EQEzpJe5nLb8-PMDZLvi1g/s320/Almost+Post+Sebastian.jpeg" width="152" /></span></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">June 2006. Almost immediately after we got married, I was pregnant with Bug, and here I was at 40 weeks with him.</span></div><span style="font-family: inherit;"><br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjHNZDCYnmC8wJNzhgs_6u2ahF1PF_yeDqXIgBc_98HrwaYnhp3YHUPDQaBl2omUqBBc7C-0cwdIaugGLVrLXZSO9mVvXR0BRbnFC1lU1WDp-Rt2Zp9PDXty0tUEnDyJTsAAZudeUPpbyU/s1600/july+06.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><span style="font-family: inherit;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjHNZDCYnmC8wJNzhgs_6u2ahF1PF_yeDqXIgBc_98HrwaYnhp3YHUPDQaBl2omUqBBc7C-0cwdIaugGLVrLXZSO9mVvXR0BRbnFC1lU1WDp-Rt2Zp9PDXty0tUEnDyJTsAAZudeUPpbyU/s320/july+06.jpg" width="213" /></span></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: inherit; font-size: small;">July 2006. Bug's first outing, to a BBQ with The Man's co-workers. He was 4 weeks old. I'd lost most of the pregnancy weight by this point.</span><br />
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEja8AOzo63CjrPPWeSsAfTg6NCd9tm0qrRtpN-1cD5NCooLDT1yrCRm0COavKFmberWlvHPw3JvqECpAcvi7q16k0a7OdX7nczq65D3KYYImUkgw3hBrffnXn61V-GdOr4jRVujfuiMcA8/s1600/sept+06.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><span style="font-family: inherit; font-size: small;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEja8AOzo63CjrPPWeSsAfTg6NCd9tm0qrRtpN-1cD5NCooLDT1yrCRm0COavKFmberWlvHPw3JvqECpAcvi7q16k0a7OdX7nczq65D3KYYImUkgw3hBrffnXn61V-GdOr4jRVujfuiMcA8/s320/sept+06.jpg" width="163" /></span></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: inherit; font-size: small;">September 2006. Bug was 2 1/2 months old and was nursing very well, as you could tell by looking at me. Sheesh.</span></div><span style="font-family: inherit; font-size: small;"><br />
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhSQE5PJLr5-JT7bM5f0Jqj6JFtM-O1iExrHMMKppUlX2p3KWy3Mznvb3LyfEny5T43hyphenhyphenXOFkXO7CjmDBkfpjRVj2aY4G-JlC0wzEEGj4i8og3rAVlNDf2AyK8f6ib6c7oCix0LJD8e7vQ/s1600/oct+06.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><span style="font-family: inherit; font-size: small;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhSQE5PJLr5-JT7bM5f0Jqj6JFtM-O1iExrHMMKppUlX2p3KWy3Mznvb3LyfEny5T43hyphenhyphenXOFkXO7CjmDBkfpjRVj2aY4G-JlC0wzEEGj4i8og3rAVlNDf2AyK8f6ib6c7oCix0LJD8e7vQ/s320/oct+06.jpg" width="240" /></span></a></div><span style="font-family: inherit; font-size: small;">October 2006. The pregnancy weight was still gone, my breasts had figured themselves out and were more reasonably sized. I was feeling pretty good by this point. This was the month I decided to go back to work full-time.</span></td></tr>
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</span><div style="text-align: center;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj_SzZuq9vU3W7CcpV16xnNSIl-vV4Muv4whRPvabRgUlFZH9UZz0v44a2bSRqluqjsYNSv1GNvjAvHZEoMmDu2LDYifLWgi8Rjdc0WE8MdDiHAg9L-UDi8cIppo7jrxW8MYCHmiwyMEd0/s1600/nov+06.jpg" imageanchor="1"><span style="font-family: inherit;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj_SzZuq9vU3W7CcpV16xnNSIl-vV4Muv4whRPvabRgUlFZH9UZz0v44a2bSRqluqjsYNSv1GNvjAvHZEoMmDu2LDYifLWgi8Rjdc0WE8MdDiHAg9L-UDi8cIppo7jrxW8MYCHmiwyMEd0/s320/nov+06.jpg" width="320" /></span></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">November 2006. I was starting to eat fast food pretty regularly as I was on the road a lot for work. It was also the start of winter, so my usual winter pounds had started to pack on. Usually it was only 5 or 10 extra pounds, though.</span></div><span style="font-family: inherit;"><br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiUooUmwymzLk4HF6Gxv80NtsrMMkyVDQiWqYXC56aBGZnH6sxhC-J8YuNHk1WnkBOx77B0RiKB6ajMCHiGskUYzHntkJ6CXlaktkD53rHiQR46wdcwIAjFDQ47vjqM-Z-dwBEHcqmka2M/s1600/dec+06.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><span style="font-family: inherit;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiUooUmwymzLk4HF6Gxv80NtsrMMkyVDQiWqYXC56aBGZnH6sxhC-J8YuNHk1WnkBOx77B0RiKB6ajMCHiGskUYzHntkJ6CXlaktkD53rHiQR46wdcwIAjFDQ47vjqM-Z-dwBEHcqmka2M/s320/dec+06.JPG" width="240" /></span></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: inherit; font-size: small;">December 2006. I was pretty frazzled by balancing motherhood, working, home, and life in general, and was eating a lot of crap to make myself feel better temporarily.</span><br />
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiKBPzxH9SGAetkPvNu2lkow4JLRIvxROnMChP5uzyT0AJkUJOaOFqVhrx_kXePxqUhJxw9i4rXh0ISrJvz_qnNb5VNUemPLFlWBTcrNVEH7req0nRG_qCE3rs8sflIPFdkSGEbOi0cwmw/s1600/jan+07.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><span style="font-family: inherit; font-size: small;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiKBPzxH9SGAetkPvNu2lkow4JLRIvxROnMChP5uzyT0AJkUJOaOFqVhrx_kXePxqUhJxw9i4rXh0ISrJvz_qnNb5VNUemPLFlWBTcrNVEH7req0nRG_qCE3rs8sflIPFdkSGEbOi0cwmw/s320/jan+07.jpg" width="213" /></span></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: inherit; font-size: small;">January 2007. You can definitely see the increasing weight here. I've always dealt with a touch of depression during the winter months, and that coupled with postpartum depression was really hard.</span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: inherit; font-size: small;"><br />
</span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi78CYcYJBR9eS2hNbvGjgMhhwwoAYWgDeUeu0RsTd0xFswPus4-dmSs64xZeX7ouaRpVTJ4tg2x2fhHxeiLtv9oeassY0QYy-pGtN9eNKA7-vsTqgQ5n4m_oPoZudxQ-5lNN35afOBpiA/s1600/feb+07.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><span style="font-family: inherit; font-size: small;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi78CYcYJBR9eS2hNbvGjgMhhwwoAYWgDeUeu0RsTd0xFswPus4-dmSs64xZeX7ouaRpVTJ4tg2x2fhHxeiLtv9oeassY0QYy-pGtN9eNKA7-vsTqgQ5n4m_oPoZudxQ-5lNN35afOBpiA/s320/feb+07.jpg" width="240" /></span></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: inherit; font-size: small;">February 2007. When I look at myself in this picture I see an unhealthy person. I was pale with random skin problems and I was sick all the time.</span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: inherit; font-size: small;"><br />
</span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhAdK1Q6UcwWIej2OQ2z1PWjQJJLHqdTorN667UOuwgdYVkF5um49NhWQFkMS_31Z_pXDrzf9FZP4WA_HaO9Ny2UBKZcmAt8FHztGzdo_Qam0ltV7wp7EaEfLKB-pXBtLHzKmH-BfImtdg/s1600/march+07.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><span style="font-family: inherit; font-size: small;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhAdK1Q6UcwWIej2OQ2z1PWjQJJLHqdTorN667UOuwgdYVkF5um49NhWQFkMS_31Z_pXDrzf9FZP4WA_HaO9Ny2UBKZcmAt8FHztGzdo_Qam0ltV7wp7EaEfLKB-pXBtLHzKmH-BfImtdg/s320/march+07.jpg" width="240" /></span></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: inherit; font-size: small;">March 2007. My depression shows pretty strongly in this picture.</span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: inherit; font-size: small;"><br />
</span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjMY3-hvX7ZHa9YfwbyzkC9Awb1zw2gFUIZeY8x9haBeDKGQSRv5lF4gSK1a3zkOlBhfU_jbN4KSiQKKN9YkO9YTDvOG9bcLfAM_08t3cnRTkxhR36B8fQwyHL87bd92K5PjbYSrGwBIjw/s1600/april+07.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><span style="font-family: inherit; font-size: small;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjMY3-hvX7ZHa9YfwbyzkC9Awb1zw2gFUIZeY8x9haBeDKGQSRv5lF4gSK1a3zkOlBhfU_jbN4KSiQKKN9YkO9YTDvOG9bcLfAM_08t3cnRTkxhR36B8fQwyHL87bd92K5PjbYSrGwBIjw/s320/april+07.jpg" width="264" /></span></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: inherit; font-size: small;">April 2007. Comfort eating, anyone? Starting to gain weight pretty quickly by this point. My pants were size 14.</span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: inherit; font-size: small;"><br />
</span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEif7wqG8CJSg8PyIHwMh3GXixtFE1qwlqS7rli9lTBsqcrwBBL-Ty7AAQ3ZCqkfbPh0ClhxEZ6MLTPJGkWlMu8zM69kFLfPDRRngVkluyACEDvIirkEyeKAuEiVt63U94vHP3983eb1TkI/s1600/may+07.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><span style="font-family: inherit; font-size: small;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEif7wqG8CJSg8PyIHwMh3GXixtFE1qwlqS7rli9lTBsqcrwBBL-Ty7AAQ3ZCqkfbPh0ClhxEZ6MLTPJGkWlMu8zM69kFLfPDRRngVkluyACEDvIirkEyeKAuEiVt63U94vHP3983eb1TkI/s320/may+07.jpg" width="142" /></span></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: inherit; font-size: small;">May 2007. The Boobs are Back.</span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: inherit; font-size: small;"><br />
</span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgWHsY55dOTuUsV-9Bsq1vtwdLInfJ6emUabz8duAUosMR5hq67X_-uFF6w2RXZj8XgMZ_vwwFfkLBNrEiNbnK60YMG_NsRrcCCmw85N3EjLeRVfLWV4PQfLtkewcSFJduKzLgF0JX-2x4/s1600/june+07.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><span style="font-family: inherit; font-size: small;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgWHsY55dOTuUsV-9Bsq1vtwdLInfJ6emUabz8duAUosMR5hq67X_-uFF6w2RXZj8XgMZ_vwwFfkLBNrEiNbnK60YMG_NsRrcCCmw85N3EjLeRVfLWV4PQfLtkewcSFJduKzLgF0JX-2x4/s320/june+07.JPG" width="240" /></span></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: inherit; font-size: small;">June 2007, celebrating Bug's first birthday.</span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: inherit; font-size: small;"><br />
</span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjbA1-fZCjG6L31cHsNWMAN5nr1WMv4c5UP94cUgP8-TmVgmrsK-kkFNtpJycCvtDLe21Oaf6bK66x6RdDFSEx-efNmW6e6y6c1n6qFMV67MRG3TQp1py_9PE5xKa_ccO7m1ug7IbUsu1Y/s1600/july+07.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><span style="font-family: inherit; font-size: small;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjbA1-fZCjG6L31cHsNWMAN5nr1WMv4c5UP94cUgP8-TmVgmrsK-kkFNtpJycCvtDLe21Oaf6bK66x6RdDFSEx-efNmW6e6y6c1n6qFMV67MRG3TQp1py_9PE5xKa_ccO7m1ug7IbUsu1Y/s320/july+07.JPG" width="100" /></span></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: inherit; font-size: small;">July 2007. I had recently bought cute new clothes hoping that they would make me feel (and look) more slim, but I was so self-conscious that I couldn't make myself seem confident. I hated the numbers on the size tags.</span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: inherit; font-size: small;"><br />
</span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjqr1jLGVssbmdrSgaSdrPeI2gNVUzps_XK8qKJB819rN8a5J13jGmrVTK1r5DJae-CpFNoPVb1R_5MmcS_hOQS9x2njvcRpH3wmE2lZxQ4ZFtMJbKgVfUVX79hwsP3yxdF_f7dwa1xihw/s1600/aug+07.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><span style="font-family: inherit; font-size: small;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjqr1jLGVssbmdrSgaSdrPeI2gNVUzps_XK8qKJB819rN8a5J13jGmrVTK1r5DJae-CpFNoPVb1R_5MmcS_hOQS9x2njvcRpH3wmE2lZxQ4ZFtMJbKgVfUVX79hwsP3yxdF_f7dwa1xihw/s320/aug+07.jpg" width="240" /></span></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: inherit; font-size: small;">August 2007. I always feel better in sunlight. :)</span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: inherit; font-size: small;"><br />
</span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiAPDu2TSBYphA5qoxo_zI2c41v5I6FW0QtRUg0yb79X9BkkHiFGSyva9DI7KnmukWcj82IS55BAfaEuwjpVJwxOHcjX4Re-CWU0SfA1k0cMZTb_1nDwfM1NrfS-AB-wT-q42j60OTbIQo/s1600/sept+07.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><span style="font-family: inherit; font-size: small;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiAPDu2TSBYphA5qoxo_zI2c41v5I6FW0QtRUg0yb79X9BkkHiFGSyva9DI7KnmukWcj82IS55BAfaEuwjpVJwxOHcjX4Re-CWU0SfA1k0cMZTb_1nDwfM1NrfS-AB-wT-q42j60OTbIQo/s320/sept+07.jpg" width="240" /></span></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: inherit; font-size: small;">September 2007. Our two year wedding anniversary. The shirt was an extra large and the pants were size 16.</span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: inherit; font-size: small;"><br />
</span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhPNQorUUSkbByk_rRFw_QHuKtvVwhZ23B1DY0b1cvZlibhlgUUmYY6vnBrldEdb4CkKvy-y0F6kwcCtu1utP5vn13-Sx6WKu7mHF70LyM3Dqhl7m2nRBeTaCsp-F67lDXlCk3afHHLI-8/s1600/oct+07.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><span style="font-family: inherit; font-size: small;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhPNQorUUSkbByk_rRFw_QHuKtvVwhZ23B1DY0b1cvZlibhlgUUmYY6vnBrldEdb4CkKvy-y0F6kwcCtu1utP5vn13-Sx6WKu7mHF70LyM3Dqhl7m2nRBeTaCsp-F67lDXlCk3afHHLI-8/s320/oct+07.jpg" width="313" /></span></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: inherit; font-size: small;">October 2007. By this point most of the pictures that were taken of me were taken "secretly" like this one that The Man took of Bug and me cleaning up before bed. I didn't voluntarily get into many photographs.</span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: inherit; font-size: small;"><br />
</span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEilyeKKKOKoPZlf3GHmrSRnwwYuYObwBdV88XhQmPuktiwHtw3dxX4366B4RO6fMmS10QW_M9j2KNNlG7WfCZNCpGJoxWfjIlAYlF0vkwKVcxyQUMuhv09BplRUggJUsfZ5_MPDrAFRZ44/s1600/nov+07.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><span style="font-family: inherit; font-size: small;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEilyeKKKOKoPZlf3GHmrSRnwwYuYObwBdV88XhQmPuktiwHtw3dxX4366B4RO6fMmS10QW_M9j2KNNlG7WfCZNCpGJoxWfjIlAYlF0vkwKVcxyQUMuhv09BplRUggJUsfZ5_MPDrAFRZ44/s320/nov+07.jpg" width="240" /></span></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: inherit; font-size: small;">November 2007. Trying out a new hairstyle to try to look younger and thinner, ended up looking older and fatter. Those were maternity jeans I was wearing, having given up on regular jeans by this point.</span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: inherit; font-size: small;"><br />
</span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhq2fVFlY_gjC1E1ixRg2Mi18rZSJXgsIUPYKPcyNtlqM-_xTRcZeMoozk1ZKNnNdtyCHKD5C7K_CjzZJx1N4lPnNe4K1qxCt3G0ZbWK0fm4hF53mj8zy2SscI7evxNyF1YnNLJkERAFY0/s1600/dec+07.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><span style="font-family: inherit; font-size: small;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhq2fVFlY_gjC1E1ixRg2Mi18rZSJXgsIUPYKPcyNtlqM-_xTRcZeMoozk1ZKNnNdtyCHKD5C7K_CjzZJx1N4lPnNe4K1qxCt3G0ZbWK0fm4hF53mj8zy2SscI7evxNyF1YnNLJkERAFY0/s320/dec+07.jpg" width="240" /></span></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: inherit; font-size: small;">December 2007. This was about when I started to realize I was hitting a really bad point with my weight. I was feeling snug in my size 18 stretchy pants and I was about 210 pounds.</span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: inherit; font-size: small;"><br />
</span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: inherit; font-size: small;">January 2008, I either didn't allow any pictures to be taken, or deleted any that were taken. I can't remember at this point, but no pictures of me exist for that month.</span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: inherit; font-size: small;"><br />
</span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhQc_QWDF4LOLias6-vI2LPkP_U-WPatutLlL464W8OvfVjaMWh6eWLcMlfeWTP6OyVchFuobONSsKiHVp8msBj4Xo6HS9JFByu2Cernei7UQGudAlekB5QWbH1DeQXZx7DkmVmJuAtSMc/s1600/feb+08.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><span style="font-family: inherit; font-size: small;"><img border="0" height="242" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhQc_QWDF4LOLias6-vI2LPkP_U-WPatutLlL464W8OvfVjaMWh6eWLcMlfeWTP6OyVchFuobONSsKiHVp8msBj4Xo6HS9JFByu2Cernei7UQGudAlekB5QWbH1DeQXZx7DkmVmJuAtSMc/s320/feb+08.jpg" width="320" /></span></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: inherit; font-size: small;">February 2008. Another picture that was taken "secretly" LOL. I'm honestly surprised I didn't delete it. I think the only reason I kept it is because Bug looked so cute in his little hat.</span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: inherit; font-size: small;"><br />
</span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhkETsolmmbv4hYPzumP9pd0Bs0NRWcwNQEtPBxDBY7HzbJ8iCY10B2CR2NftowHXHmJnNtwUcNkAL4bwb9hO5S-R39JW_Wtj_dvvATIhVKXw6__RqH8KIHwnJqLYaSblFDLpV9WwZrgzg/s1600/march+08.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><span style="font-family: inherit; font-size: small;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhkETsolmmbv4hYPzumP9pd0Bs0NRWcwNQEtPBxDBY7HzbJ8iCY10B2CR2NftowHXHmJnNtwUcNkAL4bwb9hO5S-R39JW_Wtj_dvvATIhVKXw6__RqH8KIHwnJqLYaSblFDLpV9WwZrgzg/s320/march+08.jpg" width="252" /></span></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: inherit; font-size: small;">March 2008. I was about my heaviest at about 220 pounds here.</span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: inherit; font-size: small;"><br />
</span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiLZVK0tbMPFVbsGwY8FcYXpVhJBYjl401cajbdmXmRSj3hnQIHxoK9a_ooHDUD3sNEKE5ts8q8LFf_6cYGiHemRPrLqEnGGO0MylexsF7yz5bYbGkEOo3YbnlRwltK89htIPpHK0Y1fgo/s1600/april+08.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><span style="font-family: inherit; font-size: small;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiLZVK0tbMPFVbsGwY8FcYXpVhJBYjl401cajbdmXmRSj3hnQIHxoK9a_ooHDUD3sNEKE5ts8q8LFf_6cYGiHemRPrLqEnGGO0MylexsF7yz5bYbGkEOo3YbnlRwltK89htIPpHK0Y1fgo/s320/april+08.jpg" width="200" /></span></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: inherit; font-size: small;">April 2008. A view from behind, as if you needed more proof. ;-) This was around the time we gave up eating at restaurants for Lent. No take-out, no dinners out, no breakfast sandwiches or burgers from the drive-through. We started making all of our own food, instead of just saying we did and eating half of our meals away from home. I sincerely cut out the fast-food breakfasts. We both lost a fair amount of weight from that experience.</span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: inherit; font-size: small;"><br />
</span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj0-SA4x1OZQrY_LT7hSiQ-s680YthybseuvpWqBpcrl7xW5tFHMyDsFVkrwdKXFdops_QY2iLbEb3V5diSQFBXm5gMGItOpImzUOlf-GJlFzVhfg6gTrGUqivtbqL602PO3hWDWDkoGKQ/s1600/may+08.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><span style="font-family: inherit; font-size: small;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj0-SA4x1OZQrY_LT7hSiQ-s680YthybseuvpWqBpcrl7xW5tFHMyDsFVkrwdKXFdops_QY2iLbEb3V5diSQFBXm5gMGItOpImzUOlf-GJlFzVhfg6gTrGUqivtbqL602PO3hWDWDkoGKQ/s320/may+08.jpg" width="320" /></span></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: inherit; font-size: small;">May 2008. I had started to feel a little looser in my clothes, and the sun was out again. It was a good month.</span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: inherit; font-size: small;"><br />
</span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEigeuug8oLSpURowLAh07Azi62PVY_VO_Vei_Mg6Bn8NbMJy-QAP9VLqukVsJus33fLc1lUz6dpTy40tGJKEoNw5QP8IM9prTBDFV_2WO2mySr4QaBrpCcl5aRlzSO_enpr5ldPQjZd3Z4/s1600/june+08.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><span style="font-family: inherit; font-size: small;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEigeuug8oLSpURowLAh07Azi62PVY_VO_Vei_Mg6Bn8NbMJy-QAP9VLqukVsJus33fLc1lUz6dpTy40tGJKEoNw5QP8IM9prTBDFV_2WO2mySr4QaBrpCcl5aRlzSO_enpr5ldPQjZd3Z4/s320/june+08.jpg" width="220" /></span></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: inherit; font-size: small;">June 2008. I had finally started to lose a bit of weight, but struggled, and still did a lot of emotional eating. I was working more than full-time for a while during the summer of '08 and was back to eating on the road a lot.</span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: inherit; font-size: small;"><br />
</span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjW1s_Sq6hQbfON-rN6fIhJXKhxyJljXJZdssXHJfNNHGgeCACWAqq3uT5RFHX_yEBQRMccM82339tFd70a_jYbdme69r4oT4FwyAW9eX2J89zz4c4-Xv_LtuPYoENB6SlZs1TcEkd9MIA/s1600/aug+08.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><span style="font-family: inherit; font-size: small;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjW1s_Sq6hQbfON-rN6fIhJXKhxyJljXJZdssXHJfNNHGgeCACWAqq3uT5RFHX_yEBQRMccM82339tFd70a_jYbdme69r4oT4FwyAW9eX2J89zz4c4-Xv_LtuPYoENB6SlZs1TcEkd9MIA/s320/aug+08.jpg" width="190" /></span></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: inherit; font-size: small;">August 2008. I had lost a few pounds and then plateaued pretty quickly.</span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: inherit; font-size: small;"><br />
</span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjUnztPm993oUvWtVJBF4j9ptCAMukkMDvDrGxirlzLHYD-4h90WsJdIsV33QMgcZZSCuRflJOciBW_faC3FPoW4TSU4tIbzNUoG96H5xl-PW-Is8hyphenhyphenIwxyp44f45HgTRirsmYuMKYZZOg/s1600/sept+08.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><span style="font-family: inherit; font-size: small;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjUnztPm993oUvWtVJBF4j9ptCAMukkMDvDrGxirlzLHYD-4h90WsJdIsV33QMgcZZSCuRflJOciBW_faC3FPoW4TSU4tIbzNUoG96H5xl-PW-Is8hyphenhyphenIwxyp44f45HgTRirsmYuMKYZZOg/s320/sept+08.jpg" width="146" /></span></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: inherit; font-size: small;">September 2008. Oh yes... totally dreamy. ;-) No further weight loss going on by this point, I hung out at this size and shape for a little while.</span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: inherit; font-size: small;"><br />
</span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg5_8KLDCKM7iPvMAKgo-kpOE1orpKiVSDSaIFtA3nvPC2aQjntcHhnIzt9ZetAyoHlo_Q83rx742HM1yRi9GD4RGWEtnaYJZkYcw1u0RwoOhWVV6SPFv-Fo1ts-uqv7aYgubnCbfq59b8/s1600/oct+08.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><span style="font-family: inherit; font-size: small;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg5_8KLDCKM7iPvMAKgo-kpOE1orpKiVSDSaIFtA3nvPC2aQjntcHhnIzt9ZetAyoHlo_Q83rx742HM1yRi9GD4RGWEtnaYJZkYcw1u0RwoOhWVV6SPFv-Fo1ts-uqv7aYgubnCbfq59b8/s320/oct+08.JPG" width="240" /></span></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: inherit; font-size: small;">October 2008. I was my sister's Matron of Honor in a maternity dress because it was the most flattering outfit I could find. </span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: inherit; font-size: small;"><br />
</span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi0-N8OKV9XKgOh_kvWI4TKau6EuOPYVA5Ndi5g46vwCsMHkAxQWaE00HlLwzXMR1_FzPLZ02rpNNn9yAhVl6fs9RjPQJkaX5Gy6UERuls07pOmPop2ErlPLWM-A7KzZNioK70onCPl4RI/s1600/nov+08.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><span style="font-family: inherit; font-size: small;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi0-N8OKV9XKgOh_kvWI4TKau6EuOPYVA5Ndi5g46vwCsMHkAxQWaE00HlLwzXMR1_FzPLZ02rpNNn9yAhVl6fs9RjPQJkaX5Gy6UERuls07pOmPop2ErlPLWM-A7KzZNioK70onCPl4RI/s320/nov+08.jpg" width="320" /></span></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: inherit; font-size: small;">November 2008. I avoided full-body pictures like the plague. I was actually starting to lose again, though. Having to wear a maternity dress as the mom of a 2 1/2 year old was upsetting enough to jolt me back into working at it again.</span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: inherit; font-size: small;"><br />
</span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEggnrbz_cwRBW9lwVcJhwH7U8O3WG0DDdkp-rvD5ipjLkwf7e18s8HK2V7Tg1mL4dRbrMOaz7cKzZpnvr7SXbJQpMGoLTH0cphDwK7Ma_rlV1pXLPHTScoa2llUfQZWSFWIaURk8ePKXqs/s1600/dec+08.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><span style="font-family: inherit; font-size: small;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEggnrbz_cwRBW9lwVcJhwH7U8O3WG0DDdkp-rvD5ipjLkwf7e18s8HK2V7Tg1mL4dRbrMOaz7cKzZpnvr7SXbJQpMGoLTH0cphDwK7Ma_rlV1pXLPHTScoa2llUfQZWSFWIaURk8ePKXqs/s320/dec+08.jpg" width="240" /></span></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: inherit; font-size: small;">December 2008. Had successfully lost some weight and actually come down a clothing size! The Man had just started working at his overnight job.</span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: inherit; font-size: small;"><br />
</span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgfjpHuWW5OAoGelLH_zK5AZ_31Vq67e_V2Gl-MYDaZPXm2RnfKqmUOYb5gmEWeXRoyyWu5SxqWyKX3DCZSEyuLXgP-1Rpx04Z9xgWYDSwsTViKPbGYe6F4QJUBcrpOesSKR4xgkM-vxpI/s1600/jan+09.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><span style="font-family: inherit; font-size: small;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgfjpHuWW5OAoGelLH_zK5AZ_31Vq67e_V2Gl-MYDaZPXm2RnfKqmUOYb5gmEWeXRoyyWu5SxqWyKX3DCZSEyuLXgP-1Rpx04Z9xgWYDSwsTViKPbGYe6F4QJUBcrpOesSKR4xgkM-vxpI/s320/jan+09.jpg" width="320" /></span></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: inherit; font-size: small;">January 2009. The month we decided I should give my notice to my boss and become a stay-at-home mom.</span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: inherit; font-size: small;"><br />
</span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhuLNFQipepOYa6lJ0gc2V5h97BWhVa5VnnWhJJnzOWphzUIoyl3A_Awk7nu582ObsAk528cNQnVCCLqKI35geFjUoR5yTp5Ec7yqDcSgW6RdZttxkQhPgXfca1NGuGE9yvxYoHQG0J1wE/s1600/feb+09.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><span style="font-family: inherit; font-size: small;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhuLNFQipepOYa6lJ0gc2V5h97BWhVa5VnnWhJJnzOWphzUIoyl3A_Awk7nu582ObsAk528cNQnVCCLqKI35geFjUoR5yTp5Ec7yqDcSgW6RdZttxkQhPgXfca1NGuGE9yvxYoHQG0J1wE/s320/feb+09.jpg" width="320" /></span></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: inherit; font-size: small;">February 2009. I'd lost more weight and gotten a cute hairstyle, and was starting to feel good about myself. I left my job at the end of this month and it felt like a huge weight had been lifted from my shoulders.</span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: inherit; font-size: small;"><br />
</span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg2uTGu6bcXdkNIed7BToV_smjCK4OxwTbGRJ9KpHSdVYh0K0dywIX23latXpShxCb7UghbAkWrqN7Ad5yoocSVLV3sC1MzSf8YoT_5O8-vFKf0F16jMk0SKGfElHqrDCn7Y0-F7mKcaG8/s1600/march+09.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><span style="font-family: inherit; font-size: small;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg2uTGu6bcXdkNIed7BToV_smjCK4OxwTbGRJ9KpHSdVYh0K0dywIX23latXpShxCb7UghbAkWrqN7Ad5yoocSVLV3sC1MzSf8YoT_5O8-vFKf0F16jMk0SKGfElHqrDCn7Y0-F7mKcaG8/s320/march+09.jpg" width="278" /></span></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: inherit; font-size: small;">March 2009. I went for a drastic new look.</span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: inherit; font-size: small;"><br />
</span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiGX_SLlAh8Mf4mANbplMVU54aK8BcGRM0mH1Z6LU8NMU3YO42m4uM7z2UJAmZk4_IHhOHC_19F54i0PzDPx_gGA8R_BGrDBDrL4xV0wtZsd5cqmJoHQS6IZaiYsPVPt92t9yEX2Mc5P8o/s1600/april+09.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><span style="font-family: inherit; font-size: small;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiGX_SLlAh8Mf4mANbplMVU54aK8BcGRM0mH1Z6LU8NMU3YO42m4uM7z2UJAmZk4_IHhOHC_19F54i0PzDPx_gGA8R_BGrDBDrL4xV0wtZsd5cqmJoHQS6IZaiYsPVPt92t9yEX2Mc5P8o/s320/april+09.jpg" width="214" /></span></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: inherit; font-size: small;">April 2009. I was finally starting to dress up a little and feel better about myself. My weight was definitely on a downward curve and the sense of relief was huge.</span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: inherit; font-size: small;"><br />
</span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiguRw2cZOyKgY2A5B4-ASLjBRjwr5xX2cs8j2tBNb9WbLqXe7MbUjm9Wip1hy0kpk9kwXIxhAph4zv9eJ0jEVKtQhiJcs9Sfv7yLbWkQ1uo9w3FeMj2nXjux1KgTQzHC3aibp4_28VXp8/s1600/may+09.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><span style="font-family: inherit; font-size: small;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiguRw2cZOyKgY2A5B4-ASLjBRjwr5xX2cs8j2tBNb9WbLqXe7MbUjm9Wip1hy0kpk9kwXIxhAph4zv9eJ0jEVKtQhiJcs9Sfv7yLbWkQ1uo9w3FeMj2nXjux1KgTQzHC3aibp4_28VXp8/s320/may+09.jpg" width="240" /></span></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: inherit; font-size: small;">May 2009. Down another clothing size. I was super excited to be wearing my cute size 14 white jeans to this party!</span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: inherit; font-size: small;"><br />
</span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhzG0ej739FUQXa9ZAQmlfBmdPdO4cXe8OdCi2-0w8dYIDVcIeX1cZDb89hLv2b5Zvez-oQYIYvyc8i-7-UZr-Fisn5V7Ptirixh7M-k-NNFYwTtY7hAVhjpEbfaLSiQ0ukxWv1AsM_cKE/s1600/june+09.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><span style="font-family: inherit; font-size: small;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhzG0ej739FUQXa9ZAQmlfBmdPdO4cXe8OdCi2-0w8dYIDVcIeX1cZDb89hLv2b5Zvez-oQYIYvyc8i-7-UZr-Fisn5V7Ptirixh7M-k-NNFYwTtY7hAVhjpEbfaLSiQ0ukxWv1AsM_cKE/s320/june+09.jpg" width="121" /></span></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: inherit; font-size: small;">June 2009. Irony in weight loss took the form of a little bean that was just starting to form in my uterus. This was right around the time I got pregnant with BooBoo.</span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: inherit; font-size: small;"><br />
</span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEghja9bni9ATfzDU0m5YOj6x9Vm_GRR5bymjEydWbyt4XI7wEZkvkO17LRhptQnqhK17fcRnBE52SqEUlSB9CFe3wsw49IRXrBbWPgyHJdGHTarMf-QMEdsXA9JihWH-BUJ_EEFcm5VDwY/s1600/aug+09.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><span style="font-family: inherit; font-size: small;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEghja9bni9ATfzDU0m5YOj6x9Vm_GRR5bymjEydWbyt4XI7wEZkvkO17LRhptQnqhK17fcRnBE52SqEUlSB9CFe3wsw49IRXrBbWPgyHJdGHTarMf-QMEdsXA9JihWH-BUJ_EEFcm5VDwY/s320/aug+09.jpg" width="240" /></span></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: inherit; font-size: small;">August 2009, the very beginning of a bump.</span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: inherit; font-size: small;"><br />
</span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiAdrZCJ4BgmsJ6LrghqyA4F4rS2lZmwvf2CE8kSVW_bK77TOmKrAAWB0SHunP1IcAYtKZMAD0Q5yIVa6YHL_VTMnCVgMgWfpMdrcYZp4wYeOy8ax49F-kRm5f0Z6i8SpG8QOC9I1QjbMg/s1600/sept+09.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><span style="font-family: inherit; font-size: small;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiAdrZCJ4BgmsJ6LrghqyA4F4rS2lZmwvf2CE8kSVW_bK77TOmKrAAWB0SHunP1IcAYtKZMAD0Q5yIVa6YHL_VTMnCVgMgWfpMdrcYZp4wYeOy8ax49F-kRm5f0Z6i8SpG8QOC9I1QjbMg/s320/sept+09.jpg" width="240" /></span></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: inherit; font-size: small;">September 2009. I wasn't gaining any weight - the number on the scale was the same or even slightly lower at each appointment. I was completely dedicated to being in the best possible shape for my VBAC, so I was eating an extremely healthy diet and getting regular exercise.</span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: inherit; font-size: small;"><br />
</span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjkTqDg9xJkgDkBCY8ZTfe5BOkUhwzkOeY-PEB_LaZUOnN1vxB3vr_sqwOzAdOu0LNmyK_k2TrVulsrKcbxnbITF6IuWvIZe18-VSKOLjwEt0uT5PgWPvfr1HqLSIn6KL1HVyz7yOHdpSo/s1600/oct+09.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><span style="font-family: inherit; font-size: small;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjkTqDg9xJkgDkBCY8ZTfe5BOkUhwzkOeY-PEB_LaZUOnN1vxB3vr_sqwOzAdOu0LNmyK_k2TrVulsrKcbxnbITF6IuWvIZe18-VSKOLjwEt0uT5PgWPvfr1HqLSIn6KL1HVyz7yOHdpSo/s320/oct+09.jpg" width="240" /></span></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: inherit; font-size: small;">October 2009. This was the month we found out we were expecting another boy. :) This picture was taken during our first vacation to California, a glimpse into our family's future, although we didn't know it yet. </span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: inherit; font-size: small;"><br />
</span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiUNArWJnvhAVXvo0jNoxxhF7Ky2upBKA-LzUWoA0L-vaNR2c5tUh4BIq6lCkbsF3B5SLtWKjSH5p2U7xYW19lwr-XAuz_6OimisOjBGIThEAbBFvEoUtJo1ZsGefR6SMavqXmLwxqV_OA/s1600/nov+09.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><span style="font-family: inherit; font-size: small;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiUNArWJnvhAVXvo0jNoxxhF7Ky2upBKA-LzUWoA0L-vaNR2c5tUh4BIq6lCkbsF3B5SLtWKjSH5p2U7xYW19lwr-XAuz_6OimisOjBGIThEAbBFvEoUtJo1ZsGefR6SMavqXmLwxqV_OA/s320/nov+09.jpg" width="240" /></span></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: inherit; font-size: small;">November 2009. I still hadn't gained any extra weight by this point, but I was no longer losing any either. There was an ongoing joke about my butt and thighs being food for the baby.</span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: inherit; font-size: small;"><br />
</span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg6bJtMihz53Teo0mDiBwnlg8Yfoz3X0EChqQlv10Wj5ULXrmwlAEwHNmz7B7HsE0_GNuLuPsTmUbK2tRRcriUVjWQZAoHSYso54l5XUo-JJ2g-8w_TytAUS8knJiDTO7yI4kBJphumcu4/s1600/dec+09.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><span style="font-family: inherit; font-size: small;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg6bJtMihz53Teo0mDiBwnlg8Yfoz3X0EChqQlv10Wj5ULXrmwlAEwHNmz7B7HsE0_GNuLuPsTmUbK2tRRcriUVjWQZAoHSYso54l5XUo-JJ2g-8w_TytAUS8knJiDTO7yI4kBJphumcu4/s320/dec+09.JPG" width="240" /></span></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: inherit; font-size: small;">December 2009. From looking at my face and the rest of the body I can see that I was keeping unnecessary weight off. By this point in the pregnancy I'd only just started gaining weight. I wasn't doing anything to manage my weight other than eating well and walking for exercise.</span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: inherit; font-size: small;"><br />
</span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhW6uDDyTmQU5Jq787NYIMPerEhYoqxbJ5AbHfN4vSmGgKcqs07mwKblSt3kAE2bsSK5tKEKTNLkTbvbO97RZo2x3OUEDsZplJKQ7nuMwk3tgcck7sPQugiQKqCDG4stPeRpVRIWgfOCEI/s1600/jan+10.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><span style="font-family: inherit; font-size: small;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhW6uDDyTmQU5Jq787NYIMPerEhYoqxbJ5AbHfN4vSmGgKcqs07mwKblSt3kAE2bsSK5tKEKTNLkTbvbO97RZo2x3OUEDsZplJKQ7nuMwk3tgcck7sPQugiQKqCDG4stPeRpVRIWgfOCEI/s320/jan+10.jpg" width="240" /></span></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: inherit; font-size: small;">January 2010. We moved from our farmhouse to a small apartment in a more populated town.</span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: inherit; font-size: small;"><br />
</span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgt35U0xRu6pbDvGyo-O8BUhjjkxicgQFJmlFox21RHkHdR-C5vYF6nMiHO0COZxvrUxJQ4Z0tYak3QIpNd1CZwAPrkU-ASM1eZfm2k7gurcRsSNGqEcrxAjk6w3CBRUBNdcVl75m8LQOg/s1600/feb+10.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><span style="font-family: inherit; font-size: small;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgt35U0xRu6pbDvGyo-O8BUhjjkxicgQFJmlFox21RHkHdR-C5vYF6nMiHO0COZxvrUxJQ4Z0tYak3QIpNd1CZwAPrkU-ASM1eZfm2k7gurcRsSNGqEcrxAjk6w3CBRUBNdcVl75m8LQOg/s320/feb+10.jpg" width="240" /></span></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: inherit; font-size: small;">February 2010. BooBoo's due date came and went.</span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: inherit; font-size: small;"><br />
</span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhvgNaSqDG5d7woFjpLpHwomZGVySuzg4ch62M0XhYyePE5oXryzouzC7IJMNWxkeVvKsurdri2flOLVDou6YkRuKyG31gzn-nqGPX_j426STDZtCIdhaXAy8Mo-4z-SrnihQufsihzqcM/s1600/march+10.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><span style="font-family: inherit; font-size: small;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhvgNaSqDG5d7woFjpLpHwomZGVySuzg4ch62M0XhYyePE5oXryzouzC7IJMNWxkeVvKsurdri2flOLVDou6YkRuKyG31gzn-nqGPX_j426STDZtCIdhaXAy8Mo-4z-SrnihQufsihzqcM/s320/march+10.jpg" width="240" /></span></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: inherit; font-size: small;">March 2010. On the 8th, in the wee hours of the morning, BooBoo made his appearance. I was absolutely huge, but I felt beautiful. I was very aware that this was a different kind of growth and that it was only temporary. I loved the way I felt and looked while I was pregnant.</span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: inherit; font-size: small;"><br />
</span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEizbcQfnKGadK_hcvceAqF4HDKFNoeW_naGJ4Fzs_OMRXwtGwcILNvXvyJgRDue9CT_IpjtrlEnqnTFbjcaAwEODxyNYn20XLtrF1Girk5yaPzqe6j7bDd_HG6fdyVA-nI7JEhKsOAIKmo/s1600/april+10.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><span style="font-family: inherit; font-size: small;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEizbcQfnKGadK_hcvceAqF4HDKFNoeW_naGJ4Fzs_OMRXwtGwcILNvXvyJgRDue9CT_IpjtrlEnqnTFbjcaAwEODxyNYn20XLtrF1Girk5yaPzqe6j7bDd_HG6fdyVA-nI7JEhKsOAIKmo/s320/april+10.JPG" width="153" /></span></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: inherit; font-size: small;">April 2010. No longer pregnant, baby and mama were both doing very well, I was feeling pretty good. I was only 4 weeks postpartum so there was still a fair amount of belly left, but weight loss was still well on track.</span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: inherit; font-size: small;"><br />
</span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi6D6l07rzZRaWyo5MWg_RDvM1u55t-M8zMCXW0WpYuIuPMHGLmWpQMz_hiiDOr3sST0_BmQMle5Qg-BhqzKtow1fYGlVsX6xXgCgioamYvi3uqrOHOVNbbQN20eFaT2kzKMonMUw6rjiw/s1600/may+10.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><span style="font-family: inherit; font-size: small;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi6D6l07rzZRaWyo5MWg_RDvM1u55t-M8zMCXW0WpYuIuPMHGLmWpQMz_hiiDOr3sST0_BmQMle5Qg-BhqzKtow1fYGlVsX6xXgCgioamYvi3uqrOHOVNbbQN20eFaT2kzKMonMUw6rjiw/s320/may+10.JPG" width="289" /></span></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: inherit; font-size: small;">May 2010. Gah! Getting some much needed sun, haha. I must have been starting to feel more self confident if I'd go in public wearing a tank top and shorts. ;-) Around this time I was struggling with some family drama, because there's always gotta be something going on. I was making a conscious effort to stay busy and motivated, though. I had a determination to not go down the road of severe depression again.</span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: inherit; font-size: small;"><br />
</span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgPkmPXQqwxLztq9KWVqu341hLo4-s8K24b6KqbwjybmZy7Ir6NjQZow8hWVFr9JZLmeuKJwoxVlERGiQPyz_9dozZFs4CDNMYbBElTsWx0DSxICPqKaulWEzPbex2_Wv4PY-NFkaQx80k/s1600/june+10.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><span style="font-family: inherit; font-size: small;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgPkmPXQqwxLztq9KWVqu341hLo4-s8K24b6KqbwjybmZy7Ir6NjQZow8hWVFr9JZLmeuKJwoxVlERGiQPyz_9dozZFs4CDNMYbBElTsWx0DSxICPqKaulWEzPbex2_Wv4PY-NFkaQx80k/s320/june+10.JPG" width="180" /></span></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: inherit; font-size: small;">June 2010. I was walking a lot, and the walk back to our apartment ended with a giant hill, a rigorous burst of exercise at the end of a long walk! We had a sweet little yard and I always had my hands in the dirt. It was very therapeutic. </span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: inherit; font-size: small;"><br />
</span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEji18Stx5HD5oPGGuEFJoPS3Do0wmxufWL9W_lHPIMeO_4T1SV9GMA_ajzpsmPh8Ge4TdujGpkSPUrX5Q5fMvaWpZPr5zkxoyNmooghOQlTzNKFjsIVRZHq0zMp2EGsMbZQi0g9DHhjLnQ/s1600/july+10.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><span style="font-family: inherit; font-size: small;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEji18Stx5HD5oPGGuEFJoPS3Do0wmxufWL9W_lHPIMeO_4T1SV9GMA_ajzpsmPh8Ge4TdujGpkSPUrX5Q5fMvaWpZPr5zkxoyNmooghOQlTzNKFjsIVRZHq0zMp2EGsMbZQi0g9DHhjLnQ/s320/july+10.JPG" width="98" /></span></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: inherit; font-size: small;">July 2010. Looking at this now I can still see so much belly and so much extra weight, but when this was taken, I was looking really good and starting to feel pretty confident. My walking had slowed down; it was a very humid summer and I got lazy about walking because it was uncomfortable.</span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: inherit; font-size: small;"><br />
</span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhw4jakCel9KyPJR5ehQG8E0QVa33U18W3X0tfXhCghTXxDl6ufiMGYOXfoFd7vHbNt-Nj7TUi-SyRjC6Jd6_V7rDKdJZUD7BB1MZEq00gskH5dzROYMPDN6lW2RhGnGyW_yKUo9pcKhL8/s1600/aug+10.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><span style="font-family: inherit; font-size: small;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhw4jakCel9KyPJR5ehQG8E0QVa33U18W3X0tfXhCghTXxDl6ufiMGYOXfoFd7vHbNt-Nj7TUi-SyRjC6Jd6_V7rDKdJZUD7BB1MZEq00gskH5dzROYMPDN6lW2RhGnGyW_yKUo9pcKhL8/s320/aug+10.JPG" width="232" /></span></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: inherit; font-size: small;">August 2010. It was hard to get a picture of me without a child attached to me in some way, LOL. Still is, actually.</span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: inherit; font-size: small;"><br />
</span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg_Z3p163FSvukyMjqti3nsqbZ_YBTdGaQSUAU9D5YuV7JfK8z15aJrhZPhdngLpJ2XZGeMCs20mwjZfITPeignficENjIy4KBcsDdJ-qVOCBrVSh4G-0ZH9lDipzSREExSckHgHdF5V4s/s1600/oct+10.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><span style="font-family: inherit; font-size: small;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg_Z3p163FSvukyMjqti3nsqbZ_YBTdGaQSUAU9D5YuV7JfK8z15aJrhZPhdngLpJ2XZGeMCs20mwjZfITPeignficENjIy4KBcsDdJ-qVOCBrVSh4G-0ZH9lDipzSREExSckHgHdF5V4s/s320/oct+10.JPG" width="99" /></span></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: inherit; font-size: small;">October 2010. Started to hit my usual winter plateau around this time, but I also came down with a horrendous sinus infection that left me without much appetite for about two weeks, so it all evened out. ;-)</span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: inherit; font-size: small;"><br />
</span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiTeTGRq-9jhVJ9HcYn_WngeBD0fQgFz6SspOUjc0522fGF4iEkDZQmBumHSp5eTBZU1o1Buvnk1A-dR1CewEDT5dabfLpwqZrF4HpOTnfXhU37J-uGrxHl6stoRKkP3AqqJ27e_1Qiy_Y/s1600/nov+10.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><span style="font-family: inherit; font-size: small;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiTeTGRq-9jhVJ9HcYn_WngeBD0fQgFz6SspOUjc0522fGF4iEkDZQmBumHSp5eTBZU1o1Buvnk1A-dR1CewEDT5dabfLpwqZrF4HpOTnfXhU37J-uGrxHl6stoRKkP3AqqJ27e_1Qiy_Y/s320/nov+10.JPG" width="144" /></span></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: inherit; font-size: small;">November 2010. Constantly wearing a 20 pound person helped a lot with keeping the weight off.</span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: inherit; font-size: small;"><br />
</span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiZ9ivxQWN7zrhbbOnHXrcopiEd6oGtmglU3GQcm64BwXQZN9kGGfiI1Ic_NcSldtkU_kNpWNtkji-emMtY9wu7j1HvpPLMlJB2PvXln5neE9WTvGNbGBZBLDzGbwSgv7GzrJ6B3mm4Ob4/s1600/dec+10.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><span style="font-family: inherit; font-size: small;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiZ9ivxQWN7zrhbbOnHXrcopiEd6oGtmglU3GQcm64BwXQZN9kGGfiI1Ic_NcSldtkU_kNpWNtkji-emMtY9wu7j1HvpPLMlJB2PvXln5neE9WTvGNbGBZBLDzGbwSgv7GzrJ6B3mm4Ob4/s320/dec+10.JPG" width="161" /></span></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: inherit; font-size: small;">December 2010. Still holding steady at the same weight and size, but not getting any larger, so I was perfectly happy.</span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: inherit; font-size: small;"><br />
</span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgdCliRHik_OLHE38r0oLV5HdGemxAJBlLkv4icJMDi_jq29GPuQqickFQD7ZBjoEIJO_IYhdUMTFXGTANdAFWoqtYd5ktv6Zi6Cr_zq2OXYVa6BT1BUekOw521sYJ9LOy61KQEPFdoDo0/s1600/jan+11.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><span style="font-family: inherit; font-size: small;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgdCliRHik_OLHE38r0oLV5HdGemxAJBlLkv4icJMDi_jq29GPuQqickFQD7ZBjoEIJO_IYhdUMTFXGTANdAFWoqtYd5ktv6Zi6Cr_zq2OXYVa6BT1BUekOw521sYJ9LOy61KQEPFdoDo0/s320/jan+11.JPG" width="147" /></span></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: inherit; font-size: small;">January 2011. I pulled some slightly smaller shirts out of storage and bought some new pants - very motivating. </span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: inherit; font-size: small;"><br />
</span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj9SEroMu-mRBF0mI6fkinabCawTEaRKymb-sJ_fFA5hIpRnjImCQUX5I6UZP7Bk-CQJfk3jU81_VFDONeZyLTDaq6aN2h-rvn1R9fjOc25M-nr_vZ1YHdP7qvoBJvwycPcgfRD_gu0S5A/s1600/feb+11.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><span style="font-family: inherit; font-size: small;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj9SEroMu-mRBF0mI6fkinabCawTEaRKymb-sJ_fFA5hIpRnjImCQUX5I6UZP7Bk-CQJfk3jU81_VFDONeZyLTDaq6aN2h-rvn1R9fjOc25M-nr_vZ1YHdP7qvoBJvwycPcgfRD_gu0S5A/s320/feb+11.JPG" width="167" /></span></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: inherit; font-size: small;">February 2011. Hooray for New Years inspiration to get more exercise, my weight loss had picked up again!</span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: inherit; font-size: small;"><br />
</span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgCnN9p_dmZiERDyIltqedp-OQfbxECZZayC9HV_LNDp2zPEl84HkAbL9DDAIgGsGQ3U9euGZzO4bxUlfthtNqfi7n9luQou3BNPWdVXIBwthQMrAFej2hShNNwe0WpCnn22mKgi0-GE3Q/s1600/march+11.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><span style="font-family: inherit; font-size: small;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgCnN9p_dmZiERDyIltqedp-OQfbxECZZayC9HV_LNDp2zPEl84HkAbL9DDAIgGsGQ3U9euGZzO4bxUlfthtNqfi7n9luQou3BNPWdVXIBwthQMrAFej2hShNNwe0WpCnn22mKgi0-GE3Q/s320/march+11.JPG" width="217" /></span></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: inherit; font-size: small;">March 2011. I must have lost a substantial amount of weight if I can still look noticeably thinner while holding a platter of cupcakes. ;-)</span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: inherit; font-size: small;"><br />
</span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiG7Jd3hef6A1DUmgyGsO06mUjUXIqWMDys3hLE32x1pgTyWzRryf3E36y2XQoaiS8heYlH6DSJz_e9d9D5LbCj_PDaf_GzbXzUlCJw9N2OFblbzfkyEQ6U1L4RoyoCNJEW16Y74kmyTXo/s1600/april+11.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><span style="font-family: inherit; font-size: small;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiG7Jd3hef6A1DUmgyGsO06mUjUXIqWMDys3hLE32x1pgTyWzRryf3E36y2XQoaiS8heYlH6DSJz_e9d9D5LbCj_PDaf_GzbXzUlCJw9N2OFblbzfkyEQ6U1L4RoyoCNJEW16Y74kmyTXo/s320/april+11.JPG" width="175" /></span></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: inherit; font-size: small;">April 2011. New clothes out of the tax return, woohoo!</span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: inherit; font-size: small;"><br />
</span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjJ6IiHk5JLhOMmBqbCRl6UGCCCxJNBiRNlFpiYU-Jc3qE3rfvPmKLeOqRfOb-fObINWjcCprfbcx418gwoj6dU7sg51akyo4_eohm_ZP_kiUSise9eMcBVvh89fGSECmP7PcwlTvS7UJQ/s1600/may+11.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><span style="font-family: inherit; font-size: small;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjJ6IiHk5JLhOMmBqbCRl6UGCCCxJNBiRNlFpiYU-Jc3qE3rfvPmKLeOqRfOb-fObINWjcCprfbcx418gwoj6dU7sg51akyo4_eohm_ZP_kiUSise9eMcBVvh89fGSECmP7PcwlTvS7UJQ/s320/may+11.JPG" width="146" /></span></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: inherit; font-size: small;">May 2011. This was during our second vacation to California, when we realized that we felt so amazing all the time in California that we needed to make it permanent. I was very excited to be down to a size 10!</span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: inherit; font-size: small;"><br />
</span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiHRyk8jECrjgBaoyYXx6i8H_9MbUJn5xFQxcUSSLpWhHgZWY3C7QCLyr1G57cXjHIC6HUKyG-CPxzyKm09leKkqAK9RQJrq_T5rjTxhfKLZEDTHlpWLm9pZKrBQny9XClJnReIFbj4lYo/s1600/june+11.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><span style="font-family: inherit; font-size: small;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiHRyk8jECrjgBaoyYXx6i8H_9MbUJn5xFQxcUSSLpWhHgZWY3C7QCLyr1G57cXjHIC6HUKyG-CPxzyKm09leKkqAK9RQJrq_T5rjTxhfKLZEDTHlpWLm9pZKrBQny9XClJnReIFbj4lYo/s320/june+11.JPG" width="145" /></span></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: inherit; font-size: small;">June 2011. We came home from our vacation and immediately started planning our move. Hello, summer of constant running around and not much time to eat!</span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: inherit; font-size: small;"><br />
</span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEinLishEVaWfpvqIE8k2iBaiP5-oz7NMaHbJ8OjbiV_JHdl-3ODuDebsESWdUsWGS20oHGxhFZIlUlnmbgAnIMdE3XHMwjRB3J-U-XKA7cqBuQ0fgBkRyoQI5XhWxG0lQrJvZ40HeRw3LU/s1600/july+11.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><span style="font-family: inherit; font-size: small;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEinLishEVaWfpvqIE8k2iBaiP5-oz7NMaHbJ8OjbiV_JHdl-3ODuDebsESWdUsWGS20oHGxhFZIlUlnmbgAnIMdE3XHMwjRB3J-U-XKA7cqBuQ0fgBkRyoQI5XhWxG0lQrJvZ40HeRw3LU/s320/july+11.JPG" width="149" /></span></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: inherit; font-size: small;">July 2011. Again with the birthday cake, LOL.</span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: inherit; font-size: small;"><br />
</span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhg1oimyNB4XkRFCxhf0VoyE5_eBw7ymN_cB8RCLSTCL38kOw_ucIg82aRJNCjA5r2y7-hrx-OcAKM6li_dnZPzLsGOsZjcv3n9ltoAch0Dyj9TUIZLeBSs88p5UL6lSKVxEX_1MFp2TLs/s1600/aug2+11.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><span style="font-family: inherit; font-size: small;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhg1oimyNB4XkRFCxhf0VoyE5_eBw7ymN_cB8RCLSTCL38kOw_ucIg82aRJNCjA5r2y7-hrx-OcAKM6li_dnZPzLsGOsZjcv3n9ltoAch0Dyj9TUIZLeBSs88p5UL6lSKVxEX_1MFp2TLs/s320/aug2+11.JPG" width="149" /></span></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: inherit; font-size: small;">August 2011. This was during our cross-country drive. I lost about 15 pounds just during the road trip.</span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: inherit; font-size: small;"><br />
</span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh8J990d77fwU9gIXDzT_DKk1YaUi8WGnNdK0sY4_SBiSmJPijNn71tINfFOzAmXEjnXllCcdA9Vpu5sjxDEiVhAmbb7ol-6zzw7g68lI-MAULkvIuDA8_NPvu62wp80z0fRdI-7qZf4hQ/s1600/sept+11.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><span style="font-family: inherit; font-size: small;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh8J990d77fwU9gIXDzT_DKk1YaUi8WGnNdK0sY4_SBiSmJPijNn71tINfFOzAmXEjnXllCcdA9Vpu5sjxDEiVhAmbb7ol-6zzw7g68lI-MAULkvIuDA8_NPvu62wp80z0fRdI-7qZf4hQ/s320/sept+11.JPG" width="156" /></span></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: inherit; font-size: small;">September 2011. Getting used to soaking up that lovely California sunshine, and going for lots of walks. Bug started school and I walked to pick him up almost every day.</span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: inherit; font-size: small;"><br />
</span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiR4GktZ36wLCFLeJbiA_1hfUq-losAN0zIvE_W0bN8riiBeYfr89KnHSrxrlvlQcq0bdw5F4bTlYut95XH-pkRq1l0mwmXa1uRKZKQsZtNCmeXnXOi8MZvL5HXhZkA2HNZJm69YqBeKLk/s1600/oct+11.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><span style="font-family: inherit; font-size: small;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiR4GktZ36wLCFLeJbiA_1hfUq-losAN0zIvE_W0bN8riiBeYfr89KnHSrxrlvlQcq0bdw5F4bTlYut95XH-pkRq1l0mwmXa1uRKZKQsZtNCmeXnXOi8MZvL5HXhZkA2HNZJm69YqBeKLk/s320/oct+11.JPG" width="168" /></span></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: inherit; font-size: small;">October 2011. It's been a while since a view from behind, haha.</span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: inherit; font-size: small;"><br />
</span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhRHqkF8_KW8uzwfj3Myd0pxRBWbm7Gt2zQdP1FBFVGD8NU5C_9Cf2wa-NXCPuHd8rmU9gVTyh4x9RL82jHaitBsONWc4goT1zPaUb9UAqAds07UQQZBY9emWe5m5ltKmLwDZMQ9z5j7Xs/s1600/nov+11.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><span style="font-family: inherit; font-size: small;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhRHqkF8_KW8uzwfj3Myd0pxRBWbm7Gt2zQdP1FBFVGD8NU5C_9Cf2wa-NXCPuHd8rmU9gVTyh4x9RL82jHaitBsONWc4goT1zPaUb9UAqAds07UQQZBY9emWe5m5ltKmLwDZMQ9z5j7Xs/s320/nov+11.JPG" width="142" /></span></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: inherit; font-size: small;">November 2011. Our Thanksgiving pictures made me realize that the new clothes I'd gotten earlier in the year, that had fit me so perfectly, were now hanging off of me and were unflatteringly large.</span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: inherit; font-size: small;"><br />
</span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhMqEJybFk8a1PGvhmbq7F5kS8JC_0KwBOb_ejMUU9E4FUcz2N2FylAlddb2UCGMc5vVPlA3yqvOTs37LFh-Pn2vCmxymP_iYlkIRaTSQtMykaz8K65MfO-cNwgIQr6Un3ZFyxyBq5-PLs/s1600/dec+11.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><span style="font-family: inherit; font-size: small;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhMqEJybFk8a1PGvhmbq7F5kS8JC_0KwBOb_ejMUU9E4FUcz2N2FylAlddb2UCGMc5vVPlA3yqvOTs37LFh-Pn2vCmxymP_iYlkIRaTSQtMykaz8K65MfO-cNwgIQr6Un3ZFyxyBq5-PLs/s320/dec+11.JPG" width="144" /></span></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: inherit; font-size: small;">December 2011. I had gotten out some of my few remaining outfits from the year after Bug was born, before I'd gained so much weight.</span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: inherit; font-size: small;"><br />
</span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjHPKO8wCT4qB4sYIE40EYULP0yHBl3mC2D052xmNWCznggokpKltr-_gAC_EQq-bT_-H-i7jChloORnGxxBRmw1Ol5ADYzn3X6PlYAdvUZcUd2u16ADXrmqrHcyuMuJJzaSopkNuu8fNU/s1600/jan+12.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><span style="font-family: inherit; font-size: small;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjHPKO8wCT4qB4sYIE40EYULP0yHBl3mC2D052xmNWCznggokpKltr-_gAC_EQq-bT_-H-i7jChloORnGxxBRmw1Ol5ADYzn3X6PlYAdvUZcUd2u16ADXrmqrHcyuMuJJzaSopkNuu8fNU/s320/jan+12.JPG" width="255" /></span></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: inherit; font-size: small;">January 2012. I wore that shirt SO WELL in college and I've been ridiculously excited to fit into it so well again.</span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: inherit; font-size: small;"><br />
</span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgZfjBrRki6Gc5XSp98QWMIGHq4bLkf4NsAacEOPkW-XkQB5BwTzn3G-JPIe8bUcnnsK85K35yDgEo19MhjEFFvozOoa7SdFrtJI0zUq6LdEDZmnQlDgETmqBbGlsUNlWEku2Z6e70LuJU/s1600/feb+12.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><span style="font-family: inherit; font-size: small;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgZfjBrRki6Gc5XSp98QWMIGHq4bLkf4NsAacEOPkW-XkQB5BwTzn3G-JPIe8bUcnnsK85K35yDgEo19MhjEFFvozOoa7SdFrtJI0zUq6LdEDZmnQlDgETmqBbGlsUNlWEku2Z6e70LuJU/s320/feb+12.JPG" width="223" /></span></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: inherit; font-size: small;">February 2012. Picture from behind, courtesy of my five year old, haha.</span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: inherit; font-size: small;"><br />
</span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhGGYFVABn7Mss7E11pVADMhGF8ShCVprBGI0XRgFCyi8sS5qytYrmLyyIqJRZBdttBxlR2a3K3CrndQS14V7utZzvV3HyCAHkI_yA7fbwS23aG9lOSUqrZMHislMK_iDzQagcoYfiG7iU/s1600/march+12.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><span style="font-family: inherit; font-size: small;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhGGYFVABn7Mss7E11pVADMhGF8ShCVprBGI0XRgFCyi8sS5qytYrmLyyIqJRZBdttBxlR2a3K3CrndQS14V7utZzvV3HyCAHkI_yA7fbwS23aG9lOSUqrZMHislMK_iDzQagcoYfiG7iU/s320/march+12.JPG" width="320" /></span></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: inherit; font-size: small;">March 2012. Yet another birthday rolls around, this time Booboo turning two. My size 10 pants were really getting too big by this point.</span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: inherit; font-size: small;"><br />
</span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi3UPdc5oGqYXigdi9B9bdEI9UkYGHzNtzFw1cyHZvkaPFPl4gIZZ9OAWGzVqAvNv4SQKtYkFZVjfhXzYRkh2YkRh0qDW9OOK4raCPSloW-K6naqDVaGdOAt3bNBcS0wlIBrido4Lb0z8k/s1600/003+(Medium).JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><span style="font-family: inherit; font-size: small;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi3UPdc5oGqYXigdi9B9bdEI9UkYGHzNtzFw1cyHZvkaPFPl4gIZZ9OAWGzVqAvNv4SQKtYkFZVjfhXzYRkh2YkRh0qDW9OOK4raCPSloW-K6naqDVaGdOAt3bNBcS0wlIBrido4Lb0z8k/s320/003+(Medium).JPG" width="180" /></span></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: inherit; font-size: small;"><br />
</span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: inherit; font-size: small;">April 2012. The month I reached my size goal, the size goal I'd been working on since having my first baby nearly six years ago. It's been a long time coming but I'm back in size 8 pants and size medium tops, which was my size from puberty until the summer of our wedding. I feel comfortable in my body, in a way that I haven't felt in years. I feel energetic, strong, and healthy. Still another 10 pounds to go until my weight goal, but I'm very happy to be where I am right now!</span></div></td></tr>
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</div>Unknownnoreply@blogger.com15tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2919208035129629930.post-4357837473153940332012-03-24T20:20:00.000-07:002012-03-24T20:20:35.666-07:00I am looking out the window.This post is dedicated to my friend Tessa and her little boy.<br />
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<b>I am looking out the window.</b><br />
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The sunlight is starting to catch the edge of the window, beams of bright light streaming in through the smudged, spotted glass. The windowsill is clean, smooth and white, but the glass has spots where countless drops of water have splashed and little soap bubbles have popped after slowly floating up from the spout of the dish soap, drifting up, up, up towards their escape but meeting the glass instead of continuing to drift outside into the wind.<br />
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Two birds are darting through the air, chasing each other this way and that. They are singing, and I hear many other birds singing, although I can't see the others from where I stand. The two little birds land for just a moment on the balcony railing outside our apartment. For a brief moment I feel connected to these tiny creatures as I watch them. They look at each other and look around, resting their little legs and wings just for a moment before springing into the air and flying off together again.<br />
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There are many smells blowing in the wind, but instead of smelling them all mixed together, I smell them one at a time, like a dance in the air. The cold morning breeze carries in the smell of a neighbor's bacon cooking, and then someone's burning cigarette, and then the faint smell of cut grass as the lawn crew is getting started in some corner of the yard. I smell cold dampness in the air as the dewy coating left over from the morning fog burns off in the strengthening sunlight.<br />
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The sounds of a busy morning are in full swing. Through the open window I can hear car doors opening and closing and the sounds of engines starting; people talking as they walk out of their apartments and down the sidewalk; the roar of the lawnmower around some corner; and birds continuing to chirp and sing. None of it is loud or overwhelming, but each sound subtly overlaps and wraps itself around each other sound so that they are all woven together in a rich auditory tapestry.<br />
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There is no need to say or do anything else as I sit and take in the busy scene unfolding right before my eyes. I am peacefully looking out my window, basking in the rich sights, sounds, and smells that surround me, and I am fully and deliberately immersed in the beauty of this moment in time.<br />
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I am looking out my window.Unknownnoreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2919208035129629930.post-57541960193741257612012-03-23T23:25:00.001-07:002012-03-23T23:26:47.266-07:00"Climb the mountains and get their good tidings."<div style="text-align: center;"><span style="background-color: #e5e5dd; color: #330000; font-family: georgia, 'bookman old style', 'palatino linotype', 'book antiqua', palatino, 'trebuchet ms', helvetica, garamond, sans-serif, arial, verdana, 'avante garde', 'century gothic', 'comic sans ms', times, 'times new roman', serif; text-align: -webkit-left;">How glorious a greeting the sun gives the mountains! ~John Muir</span></div><span style="background-color: #e5e5dd; color: #330000; font-family: georgia, 'bookman old style', 'palatino linotype', 'book antiqua', palatino, 'trebuchet ms', helvetica, garamond, sans-serif, arial, verdana, 'avante garde', 'century gothic', 'comic sans ms', times, 'times new roman', serif; text-align: -webkit-left;"><br />
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEggCJrenmC4tRQI2HpCjgyYH6X-LWBGUMyosVaqnxsKFnhJZrRkO6WHw6tpo7z24O-jJI0Bbkkv9YlC2ZpTav097pcosn3xUciD82ebTuHv2Itjz4up0siWNDp6OdZIdFJDPf1TnLob3kQ/s1600/311887_2188914164098_1284406681_31833557_829927761_n.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEggCJrenmC4tRQI2HpCjgyYH6X-LWBGUMyosVaqnxsKFnhJZrRkO6WHw6tpo7z24O-jJI0Bbkkv9YlC2ZpTav097pcosn3xUciD82ebTuHv2Itjz4up0siWNDp6OdZIdFJDPf1TnLob3kQ/s320/311887_2188914164098_1284406681_31833557_829927761_n.jpg" width="320" /></a></div><a name='more'></a><br />
From age 9 until last year at age 28 I lived on the east coast. There were beautiful seasons, colorful foliage, thick forests, and rugged mountains. There were also wild, jagged beaches and I was personally much more drawn to the beaches. Despite living right at the base of beautiful <a href="http://www.acadiamagic.com/CadillacMountain.html">Cadillac Mountain</a> in Acadia National Park, I didn't feel much urge to go and explore the surrounding forests and mountains.<br />
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Here on the west coast, though, back in the San Diego area where I am originally from, it's a whole different feeling. The mountains are huge, dramatic, covered with a variety of plants and giant boulders that seem to have been arranged just so. <b>It's hot and dusty, but I am a sun lover, and the mountains seem to rise up in front of me and tempt me with the ability to carry me closer to its baking rays.</b> The Man chuckled when I told him this and said that I reminded him of Icarus with his wax wings, trying to fly too close to the sun. No, I said, I'm not trying to construct something small and weak, the mountains are right there and we only need to follow their paths. Little trails and roads spiral up and down and through and around the mountains every which way, and <b>some primal part of me just wants to walk off into the dust and the heat and go where the trails lead me</b>.<br />
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi1ShBLAk_OfnRriT6HtsSzOdPsadTMvshIEjErSQuS-0S5wZ2rKekUQ0ODM4Fa450IrrxuCBYHEKHEEIgH8Aljl47fuc0t4AKRSVIaMZS1QgFL8X1M-o3UrPO1cNc6v3kti1kHJ9AI_is/s1600/64802_2700280907947_1284406681_32040218_366692406_n.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi1ShBLAk_OfnRriT6HtsSzOdPsadTMvshIEjErSQuS-0S5wZ2rKekUQ0ODM4Fa450IrrxuCBYHEKHEEIgH8Aljl47fuc0t4AKRSVIaMZS1QgFL8X1M-o3UrPO1cNc6v3kti1kHJ9AI_is/s320/64802_2700280907947_1284406681_32040218_366692406_n.jpg" width="320" /></a></div><br />
Granted, we've been reading "The Hobbit" with Bug for the past couple of weeks, so I'm already imagining dwarves and elves around every corner and adventures lurking. <b>Sometimes when I walk our dog in the morning there is still a thick layer of fog surrounding the closest peaks, and I start to hum the Misty Mountains song to myself</b>, picturing their little adventuring party walking along steep, sharply curving paths. But the truth is this love I have for the local mountains goes deeper than a fantasy inspired by reading a much loved book.<br />
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When I walk or drive around and look at these massive peaks around us, sometimes covered in snow even on a day when I'm wearing shorts and a tee-shirt, I feel tiny. <b>I feel like a little piece of the big picture.</b> These enormous rolling hills stand in the distance like constant reminders of the relationship we really have with the world around us, a reminder that we really are rather small and our problems really are rather insignificant in the real big picture. <b>It's hard to remember my gripes and frustrations when I allow myself to pause and take in the whole scene.</b> The mountains stand there stoically, for years upon decades upon centuries, except for when the fault lines shift and the earth moves - which, yet again, is another reminder of how small we all are in the face of nature.<br />
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEidkjPuWnkFUx9xQ_h_aUd2uWzt_vuVMegKZnrmOsJMt6qRuQrR1IYnt_ktJGKYmOf-s7OK7ptqzlrV42pOtvhZ6mICVg22X6n62QMsONXnnTUMcejEg6g3A0KSB1HGyssySA7KjOD9QDw/s1600/317877_2188913924092_1284406681_31833556_1825064642_n.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEidkjPuWnkFUx9xQ_h_aUd2uWzt_vuVMegKZnrmOsJMt6qRuQrR1IYnt_ktJGKYmOf-s7OK7ptqzlrV42pOtvhZ6mICVg22X6n62QMsONXnnTUMcejEg6g3A0KSB1HGyssySA7KjOD9QDw/s320/317877_2188913924092_1284406681_31833556_1825064642_n.jpg" width="240" /></a></div><br />
I'm a very spiritual person, and I've actively been trying to get back in touch with that part of me that "senses" things and "hears" things and "feels" things, if you know what I mean. Some might say Magical, some might say Spiritual, some might say simply Sensitive. <b>When I am surrounded by nature in this part of California, I feel like I am spiritually Home.</b> Looking at the scenery here, feeling the environment around me, experiencing the surrounding energy, makes me feel strongly that I am where I'm supposed to be.<br />
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<div style="text-align: center;"><span style="background-color: #e5e5dd; color: #330000; font-family: georgia, 'bookman old style', 'palatino linotype', 'book antiqua', palatino, 'trebuchet ms', helvetica, garamond, sans-serif, arial, verdana, 'avante garde', 'century gothic', 'comic sans ms', times, 'times new roman', serif; text-align: -webkit-left;">Climb up on some hill at sunrise. Everybody needs perspective once in a while, and you'll find it there. ~Robb Sagendorph</span></div><div style="text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: center;"><span style="background-color: #e5e5dd; color: #330000; font-family: georgia, 'bookman old style', 'palatino linotype', 'book antiqua', palatino, 'trebuchet ms', helvetica, garamond, sans-serif, arial, verdana, 'avante garde', 'century gothic', 'comic sans ms', times, 'times new roman', serif; text-align: -webkit-left;">Climb the mountains and get their good tidings. Nature's peace will flow into you as sunshine flows into trees. The winds will blow their own freshness into you, and the storms their energy, while cares will drop off like autumn leaves. ~John Muir</span></div>Unknownnoreply@blogger.com8tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2919208035129629930.post-46406591637048520852012-03-16T13:28:00.000-07:002012-03-16T13:28:16.961-07:00Reflections on a Changing LifeFrom moving twice in the past three years, including one cross-country move, gaining and then losing about 70 pounds, friendships and relationships that sometimes ebb and sometimes flow, there have been plenty of changes in my life. There have been new hairstyles, new phases, new projects, and even recently new clothes, which is always pretty exciting.<br />
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I've been working on a blog project, a post that shows my weight gain and then my weight loss in pictures. It's pretty powerful to work on it, and <b>it's brought me to tears of sadness and then tears of joy more than once. </b>This is the first time I've seen the whole experience laid out before my eyes, and it's a lot to take in. It's also brought back a lot of memories about the times when those photographs were taken. There were some joyous times and there were also many times when I remember feeling very lost and dark. I'm so excited to finish it up and post it, though. I've made many dietary changes, and <b>I've also tackled a lot of inner demons and pent up problems,</b> which I think had as much impact on the weight loss as diet, if not more. I'm incredibly proud of myself for tackling such hard work.<br />
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I feel GOOD about myself. It's been a long time coming but I can say right now that without any other conditions, <b>I love myself and feel good about who I am</b>. As my depression and weight gain started to subside I started feeling like this, but it was in fits and starts, or with conditions. I loved myself for being a good wife, a good mother, for having fabulous eyebrows, for making good choices in food, for being a birthing goddess. I felt like I was making huge strides in self-acceptance but then I could be so hard on myself in other ways.<br />
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<b>Lately I've had a lot of revelations about how I am a WHOLE person.</b> Maybe this seems silly and basic but it all seems to be coming together in a way that just makes sense and feels right. My mothering and my eyebrows and my marriage and my weight loss and my prowess in natural birthing are all tied up in one bundle that is me, and they're bundled up with things that might be embarrassing or upsetting or awkward, and that's okay. I accept all of those parts of me because they're all me, they all make up my journey and my experience. <b>I can't fully own the joyous parts of my experience, like the weight loss that I've been feeling pretty great about lately, without also owning the parts that might be uncomfortable.</b> This has been a big and important understanding for me to reach, and it really feels empowering.<br />
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I've been making a very conscious effort to live life one day at a time and to consciously enjoy the journey. I guess that this is something I've been working on for as long as I've been struggling with depression and weight, but I feel like for a little while now I've finally gotten it. Everything seems to be falling into place somehow. Which is funny, because in reality if I break it down and examine every little thing that could be stressful or difficult, there's still a lot that has yet to fall into place, but it doesn't worry me.<b> It's like I've managed to find my zen, or maybe it found me. </b><br />
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I'm not worked up about keeping things that I enjoy exactly as they are, and I'm not resisting change when there are indications that it's time. I'm living day by day and I'm loving it. I'm turning 30 later this year and I take great care of myself, so I expect to live a long and full life with many beautiful experiences, and many sad and painful ones along the way as well. <b>Change is the nature of life, and I've been realizing that I'm willing and able to really, truly embrace all of the beauty that is a part of the whole journey.</b>Unknownnoreply@blogger.com6tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2919208035129629930.post-86076087313509956062012-02-23T11:07:00.001-08:002012-02-23T11:13:56.970-08:00My mistrust of Western medicine.To be honest, I have a general mistrust of <a href="http://www.gancao.net/theory/comparison-186">Western medicine</a>. I would say that this one feeling of mine is the thing that consistently evokes gasps and raised eyebrows. I have a lot of strong opinions on a lot of subjects, from breastfeeding to birth to grammar to mental health and many other things, but <b>when I question listening to ones doctor, or maybe treating conditions at home rather than rushing to a doctors office, people are consistently shocked</b>.<br />
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I'm a true believer in "Alternative Medicine", which anything that hasn't been proven by The Scientific Community is labeled. Treatments that have been safely and effectively used in other cultures for thousands of years are scoffed at and deemed "unable to be proven" or even "ineffective." <b>My belief in alternative medicine is not unfounded, though, I believe in it because it has consistently WORKED for me.</b> Western physicians have generally given me answers such as "I don't know what it is, but take this pill/use this ointment/get this shot and it *should* go away" whereas <b>alternative medicine has given me the tools to take my health into my own hands.</b> Among many of my experiences with Western-style doctors I have had a mysterious skin rash on my wrist that came and went at random for many months; the same kind of skin rash under my eyes, but only during the winter, for 3 or 4 years in a row; a poorly timed induction for no valid medical reason and a resulting c-section; and a child who suffered through more than a dozen ear infections, many of them double infections, and became resistant to two antibiotics along the way. Alternative medicine, which I started turning to out of desperation when nothing seemed to get rid of Bug's ear infections and night-time vomiting, has given me the knowledge to handle most problems at home.<br />
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<b>This really strikes a kind of panic into the hearts of a lot of well meaning people, and I just don't understand that.</b> None of us are wasting away from cancer or autoimmune disease while I refuse medical treatment and insist on home remedies. I may prefer to deal with alternative medicine, but I do believe that Western medicine has a time and a place. I think it's particularly good for emergency care, and for repairing injuries, and I've had really good experiences on the receiving end of both of those kinds of medical treatment.<br />
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With illness, disease, mental health, long-term care, maternity, pediatrics, and many other conditions and life stages, though, I simply, personally believe that the <a href="http://www.ncbi.nlm.nih.gov/pmc/articles/PMC1071693/">disease-based</a>, almost factory style of the health care system as a whole in our country is not the right way to create health and wellness. And<b> I, personally, believe that the goal should be health and wellness, not medical treatment and management of every uncomfortable symptom along the way.</b> We treat the knee pain, the back pain, the heartburn, the minor infections, the sleep apnea, the depression, and the type 2 diabetes but we don't look at the person as a whole and figure out how to heal from the root of the problem. We don't look at the big picture of how all of the symptoms are related and what can be done to create a lifestyle of health, choosing instead to buy prescriptions for various pills, creams, and injections to manage our symptoms. Well, not unless we step outside the traditional American Medical Box.<br />
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<b>I don't intend to grow old taking a handful of prescription drugs every morning and evening.</b> Supplements to support my wellness, such as calcium/magnesium, C/zinc combinations, and fish oil capsules are a different story, I will continue to take those because they help to keep my immune system strong and my body healthy.<b> I do believe it's a good idea to get yearly or semi-yearly physical exams (and blood work is always a good idea, in my opinion) but I use the results from these exams as a picture of my general physical health and then I do what I can at home to support my health and wellness.</b> Minor problems with digestion, blood pressure, weight, pain, and many other symptoms can often be remedied at home with diet changes, vitamin supplements, mineral supplements, and drinking more water. I often hear about interesting research into "proving" traditional, natural remedies. Not too long ago I heard an advertisement on the radio, a local university was looking for volunteers for a study on prostate cancer. They were looking to see whether a healthy diet would help treat prostate cancer. I was shocked that anyone would think a healthy diet WOULDN'T help treat it!<br />
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When I was younger I remember hearing about the ban on <a href="http://www.cancer.org/Treatment/TreatmentsandSideEffects/ComplementaryandAlternativeMedicine/HerbsVitaminsandMinerals/comfrey">comfrey</a>. Apparently the FDA majorly freaked out and declared this herb highly toxic and ordered it removed from products. My mom, and other people like her who were backyard gardeners with a little comfrey patch for use in healing balms and salves, were suddenly very nervous about whether they were violating the law by continuing to keep this plant for home remedies. Now, <b>the Almighty Scientific Studies that were conducted on comfrey were based on large internal doses of the plant</b>. I can only speak for myself, but in the sort of folklore herbal healing knowledge that has been passed down to me, <b>I've learned that comfrey isn't meant to be taken internally.</b> It makes a wonderful addition to anything that will heal the skin, though, and I've very successfully used it in many ointments, washes, and poultice-packs. Any remedy has the potential for misuse, and many have the potential to cause harm when not used properly.<b> I, personally, feel more comfortable healing my body and supporting my health through these kinds of traditional medicines than by going to a doctor every time I have a cold or an ache. </b><br />
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I am not implying that doctors are bad people. <b>One person who had a remarkable impact on my knowledge and understanding of health and the human body was our former family doctor.</b> He was a kind and respectful man who always presented the different options and left the final decision up to us. He recommended breast milk to treat pinkeye, delaying certain vaccinations until the immune system was a little stronger, and a dairy free diet to help with a string of various ear infections and stomach bugs. He was so excited for us when I got pregnant with Boo Boo, and when I told him about my planned home birth he fondly reminisced about some of the home births he attended when he did house calls. After having been patients at a pediatric practice where you never knew which pediatrician you'd see, vaccinations were always done on time, and antibiotics were automatically given, I learned so much from that family doctor, and since then I've always made a point to have our whole family be patients at the same general practitioner office wherever we've lived.<br />
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When it comes to my own health, and the health of my family, <b>we've had much better results from modifying our diets, taking the right supplements, and using natural remedies such as homeopathy and herbal blends than we've had from most visits to a regular doctor.</b> If we can't take care of a problem at home, or it seems to keep getting worse, or if we start seeing symptoms that indicate an emergency, then it's time for a trip to the doctor. Honestly, though, it very rarely gets to that point. I very strongly believe that our lifestyle of supporting health and wellness has helped to strengthen our immune systems to the point where MOST of the time we're able to fight off the various bugs and viruses that come our way without the assistance of any medication.<br />
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<b>It feels empowering to take our health into our own hands.</b> It feels wonderful to know that we are in great shape, our kids are active and healthy, my husband and I have lost a lot of weight, improved our health, have stronger immune systems than we used to have, and we have brought about these results ourselves, through our own education and efforts. <b>We plan our own treatments for coughs, colds, flus, allergies, minor injuries, digestive discomforts, and common childhood ailments.</b> I birthed our second baby in the comfort of our own home and used herbal blends and vitamin and mineral supplements in my postpartum recovery, and it was a deeply empowering experience. The homeopathic cold remedies that we use have never been associated with the scary risks of over the counter drugs, many of which have been pulled from the shelves due to frightening side effects. <b>We also know that when we DO need to get emergency treatment from a doctor, such as antibiotics, the treatment will be much more effective because we're not putting lots of other doses of antibiotics for lots of other ailments into our bodies.</b><br />
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I don't fuss too much about scientific studies that "prove" whether or not something works. <b>I do a lot of my own research, and whenever possible I choose the simplest and most natural option.</b> This hasn't failed me yet. When there are indications that a treatment or remedy may be risky, I look seriously at the whole story. Is it something that's just blatantly dangerous across the board, or is it something that's not appropriate for certain uses? Is it, for instance, meant to be used topically, and it's dangerous when ingested? <b>There are plenty of prescription medications that have dangerous risks when not used correctly, or even when used correctly, but these seem to be handed out like candy. </b>We haven't yet had a cold or flu that wasn't easily managed with fluids, lots of rest, nutritionally dense foods, and some <a href="http://boironusa.com/">Chestal syrup</a> to soothe the nighttime coughs.<br />
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I do believe that everyone should check in at least somewhat regularly with a primary care physician, and I think it's a good idea to be willing to turn to a doctor or hospital in the case of an emergency. In the case of most common problems, though, I feel far more confident in my home remedies than in the treatments that will be offered at a doctor's office.Unknownnoreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2919208035129629930.post-42199637376665166492012-02-09T12:54:00.000-08:002012-02-09T12:54:55.893-08:00Struggling, but I WILL NOT get stuck.In the interest of honesty and full disclosure, <b>I am struggling.</b> However, I think the reason I am finally finding the will to write about it means that I can see the light at the end of the tunnel, so I'm going to get my words out and go with it. <b>When I've struggled with things in the past it has always helped to be able to think about the situation, put words and descriptions onto it, and then move forward.</b><br />
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I'm not really sure when I started to feel like I was being washed away.<br />
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My husband, The Man, turned 30 in January. <b>30 is kind of a Big Freaking Deal, and I dreamed about throwing a huge birthday bash. </b>Funds being what they are, though, especially after a cross-country move just a few months ago that literally left our bank account empty, a huge birthday bash was not in the cards. It's okay, I thought, I'll surprise him at work with a cake. <b>He ended up with the day off.</b> We had a great time hanging out as a family, but of course there's the damn guilt. Moms always have THE GUILT. <b>I should have done more, it should have been a bigger deal, I should have made him the steak he loves instead of suggesting we get take-out.</b> But it turned out wonderful, and I don't think that's where my feeling of Sinking came from.<br />
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Maybe it's the complicated Personal Relationship Stuff that I've been sorting through and figuring out. Not even regarding our marriage, but other personal relationships. <b>Complicated, sordid, life-long relationships that have pretty consistently been a source of anxiety. </b>Having grown up in a <a href="http://www.livestrong.com/article/14265-common-characteristics-of-adult-children-of-alcoholics/">family affected by alcoholism</a>, I came to realize as an adult that I have embodied the <a href="http://blogs.psychcentral.com/family/2009/08/child-of-alcoholism-hero-child/">typical role of the oldest child</a> in an alcoholic family pretty damn well. <b>I've had a lifetime of being The Fixer, of absorbing the blame and problems that other people have, and cleaning up other people's messes while burying my own emotions. </b>Of course there's only so much of that kind of "fixing" that a person can handle before they crack, and I think my personal cracking happened in the months leading up to our move. It's been a tremendously healing move in so many ways, but there have been many emotional ramifications that I honestly didn't consider beforehand. The last heartfelt, meaningful conversation I had with my mom was 9 months ago, and it ended with me telling her we'd decided to move. While moving away from her was honestly not even on our list of reasons for going, she perceived it only as me leaving her and taking her grandchildren away from her. <b>While I realize now that it's the healthiest choice FOR ME to be away from that kind of negativity and resentment, it's an emotional hurdle that I didn't factor in when considering all of the things that would be hard about moving so far away</b>. Does this make any sense at all? I think it does to me, but I wonder sometimes.<br />
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Speaking of Complicated Personal Relationship Stuff, The Man and I are making an honest effort to reach out and connect with one another, but we have some "stuff" to overcome as well. <b>And of course it's never easy to connect as a couple when there are constantly these busy little boys buzzing around us. </b>We went on a lunch date yesterday, and enjoyed delicious sushi and a quick trip to the pet store and Trader Joes, but I'm not sure whether we ever ended up having even a brief conversation that wasn't interrupted by Boo Boo dropping something on the ground and bursting into tears, or Bug needing to make a comment about something, or needing to rush someone to a bathroom, or having to clean up a spill or blow on food that was too hot or find a beloved toy that had suddenly disappeared. At this point in our lives we need to choose between 1) paying a babysitter, or 2) going out together, as we just don't have the financial ability to choose both. <b>We both fully realize that this is the situation that we have chosen deliberately, but it doesn't make it any easier.</b> I'm thankful for the fact that I may be starting a new work-from-home position very soon, and since the income he brings home is what we need to cover the bills, my income will be able to go towards "fun things" and we will get the break we desperately need.<br />
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Maybe it was the miscarriage I had a couple of weeks ago.<b> I didn't make this a public announcement because I was feeling so weirdly conflicted about it myself.</b> It would have been a really awful time for a pregnancy, but that doesn't negate the feeling of loss that accompanies an event like that. While I fully realize that my body and soul are not in the optimum condition to support new life at this time, I couldn't help but look at my beautiful children and realize that they, too, could have been swept out of my body within days of implantation, maybe without me even realizing I'd ever been pregnant. <b>One of my strongest spiritual beliefs is that everything that happens to us has a purpose,</b> even if we can't even begin to realize what that purpose is. <b>I believe beyond a shadow of a doubt that if we ever decide to have another child, the life energy that would have been this potential baby will come back to me.</b> I don't feel consumed by grief and loss, but those emotions were part of the barrage of emotions I felt while I was actually going through the bleeding. Even though it's over now and I feel at peace about how it all happened, it was a huge emotional event. It was a huge PHYSICAL event as well, it was hard on my body and left me very tired. My appetite was nearly non-existent for a few days, and that didn't help as I was trying to perk myself up and take care of things that I simply wasn't able to pass on to anyone else.<br />
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Maybe it's the sicknesses that the kids have been dealing with. Boo Boo was the first to come down with it. He had a few days of coughing and sniffling, accompanied by very poor sleep at night, and then came down with a fever that he spent a couple of days fighting through. <b>His sleep is always the first thing to suffer when he's not feeling well.</b> For the past week or so he's been sleeping in stretches of 1-2 hours during the night, waking up to squirm around, cry, or nurse, because he's not had much appetite for food during the day. It's at times like this when I'm thankful that he is still nursing, because I know the energy from that has helped to heal him when he hasn't had much desire to eat "real" food. Bug came down with it next. It was the same thing, a couple of days of cold symptoms and then a fever that crept up on him. His fever started yesterday, and he woke up fever free this morning - I felt hopeful that he might return to school tomorrow, but then the fever crept back up again as this morning has gone on, and I realize now that he'll be home sick again tomorrow. <b>My heart aches to see my babies suffering, but then I have these conflicting emotions of being resentful about my nights of very little sleep.</b> It's hard to summon sympathy and compassion for an irrational toddler who has kept me up for half the night when he gets up at 6:30 am, exhausted, and starts screaming nonsense in a shrill shriek that makes my eardrums rattle.<br />
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The Man and I have at least been able to find some brief times to connect. <b>We let the TV babysit the kids for a few minutes this morning while we sat on our bed and TALKED, a real, live conversation without interruptions, at least until he had to leave for work.</b> It's funny how when we were dating we'd spend hours and hours and even days just spending time with each other and it never seemed like enough, but now<b> in the face of everything else that happens in our Grown Up Lives we can seize an opportunity to have a 10 minute conversation and it perks us up more than we could ever imagine back in our carefree college days. </b>He suggested that we go hiking - that way we can take our little amount of "fun money" and use it to pay a babysitter while we do something that is free. It sounded like a fantastic idea to me and<b> I'm looking forward to the chance to connect with nature and connect with him at the same time. </b>We keep talking about playing Scrabble together, but we keep alternating nights of being utterly exhausted and crashing at the same time the kids go to bed. First it was him, then it was me, then it was him again. That's all right, at least the intention is there. We'll get there.<br />
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I was right - writing it all out HAS helped to bring clarity to these situations. <b>These struggles are huge obstacles for us right now, but our struggles ARE NOT US. </b>We are bigger and better than these curve balls that life throws at us. Everything does happen for a reason. <b>Maybe my continuing emotional struggle with complicated, toxic relationships are my reminder that I'm still allowing those negative feelings to control me, which means I haven't put a stop to that like I thought I had</b>. I realize that I deserve better than to be weighed down with other peoples guilt and insecurities, but I need to better teach myself how to push their issues aside and nurture myself. <b>I don't have an easy fix for the sleepless nights and the sick kids, but I can tell myself that This Too Shall Pass. </b>When I look at Bug I realize how much he has grown up in what seems like the blink of an eye, even though there have been so many days that seemed to crawl by at a snail's pace. Boo Boo is going to be headed off to school with his brother before I know it, and I'll be nostalgic for the days when all he needed was some extra nurturing from Mama to feel better. I can meditate more, I can do more yoga, both of which are very healing and renewing for me. I can now pour my energy into my (potential) new job, doing the best that I can do and also adding some extra funds to the bank account, which will be a tremendous help in many ways. <b>Writing this out HAS made me realize that we can only move up from here. </b>The kids will get older and more independent, the bank account will grow. We have pretty much no time as a couple now, so that can only get better, right? Especially when we are both making a conscious effort to work on it.<br />
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If you have continued reading this far, I am impressed and deeply touched. Thank you for sitting here with me as I process this. I've always found great insight and healing through the power of the written word, and this time to sit and "think out loud" with my readers has been no exception. <b>I am struggling, but I will not allow my struggles to consume me, and I will not BECOME my struggles.</b> I'm strong and I will overcome this. I have already overcome tremendous obstacles, and after thinking of it all in context I realize that this could all be so much worse.Unknownnoreply@blogger.com10tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2919208035129629930.post-34714199004666346152012-02-05T22:17:00.000-08:002012-02-05T22:29:16.756-08:00Bug lost his first tooth!Our 5 1/2 year old son, <b>Bug, has been wiggling his lower front tooth for the past couple of weeks.</b> For most of that time he's been very cautious about it. Some caution is totally understandable, especially for a kid like Bug who likes to be sure he knows how to do something All The Way before he gives it a try. The new "grown-up tooth" behind it has been slowly growing in, ready to take over whenever the wiggly tooth was ready to fall out. <b>We would joke while brushing his teeth at night that he was just going to grow several complete rows of teeth, like a shark, never actually losing any.</b><br />
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Then, yesterday morning, he was sitting with us in our bedroom while we got started for the day. He'd wiggled it this way and that, even telling us that he could hear it making funny noises and he had a feeling that it would come out that day. <b>Suddenly he said "Look!" and held his hand out to us, showing us a tiny white tooth that had finally come out.</b> The big day has finally happened - our little Bug has lost his first tooth.<br />
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We got it ready to present to the Tooth Fairy, setting it in a special little box with felt lining. Bug was excited to think about what she might bring him in exchange for his precious tooth. <b>In true Bug fashion he confessed to me that he had realized the tooth was ready to come out, and he waited a few moments until he was sure the timing was right.</b> "I wanted to make sure you and Daddy were both ready," he said.<br />
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I kept sneaking back in there to take a little look at his sweet tooth. It was so perfectly formed and so very tiny. The new one growing in is already so much bigger and wider. <b>That wee baby tooth that we held in our hands yesterday has been on such a journey with our Bug.</b> He started showing symptoms of teething at only 2 months of age, and our pediatrician confirmed that his gums were quite red where the little tooth below the surface was starting to stir. He was a slow teether - the first tooth finally broke the surface when he was about 5 months old, after several painful bouts of teething. Its little partner was not too far behind, breaking through the gums within a couple of weeks. The comments about how I'd be quitting breastfeeding soon were not far behind. <b>The little tooth did scrape me occasionally, and once or twice there were unfortunate chomping incidents, but he was always a considerate nursling so those incidents were rare. </b>We diligently flossed between those two little teeth and brushed them every evening, and added additional teeth to the daily care routine as they grew in over the next year.<br />
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For the past year or so he has been curious about this amazing idea of losing ones teeth and growing new ones.<b> For a while he was sure that once he started getting his grown-up teeth he'd suddenly transform into a grown-up.</b> He's not the first in his kindergarten class to lose a tooth, so he's seen kids come in with their jack-o-lantern smiles with stories of what the Tooth Fairy left under their pillows. The day he finally got to prepare his own tooth for the Tooth Fairy, he kept saying "I'm so excited! I can't wait to see what she brings!" His joy and excitement and pride were quite contagious. Tomorrow morning he gets to share his exciting news with the rest of his class, and he was beaming as he rehearsed his announcement for "Morning News."<br />
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<b>As I expected, the other bottom front tooth is ever so slightly wiggly, following on the heels of its partner tooth.</b> I don't think he'll be able to leave it alone for long now that he's experienced the thrill of losing a tooth, growing a brand new one, and a visit from the Tooth Fairy.<br />
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<b>When I look at that tiny tooth out of his mouth it's like the past five years flash before my eyes in a blur. </b>Sometimes the days barely seem to crawl by, especially if we're dealing with things like illness or teething pain or cranky toddlers who won't nap, but then I see something like this itty-bitty tooth and I realize how quickly those days are flying by in the grand scheme of things.Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2919208035129629930.post-54665276635177054372012-02-02T09:11:00.000-08:002012-02-02T09:14:50.216-08:00Nazis and their Breastfeeding Agenda?<b>Breastfeeding Nazi. </b>What a hurtful, offensive statement that is cruelly thrown around, usually behind the anonymity of an online posting. It's a whole other level of hurtful to receive this kind of insult AFTER somebody has repeatedly come to you for breastfeeding advice, telling you that they are committed to making it work and they NEED your help. <b>The internet - it offers us so many wonderful opportunities for growth and learning, and also offers us this wonderful platform where you can hide behind your online identity and say cruel things that you'd never say to someones face.</b><br />
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Look, <b>there are PLENTY of resources out there for formula feeding.</b> The sad truth is, breastfeeding women just drop like flies. Even though it's the natural, normal way to feed a human baby, of course there are plenty of things that make it very hard, especially if you've had complications with pregnancy or birth. Many women stick it out, even if they use a little formula in the meantime, and have a very successful breastfeeding relationship. Many women never touch a drop of formula at all. Many, many, many women simply give up though. There are so many different factors that go into this decision, and <b>I don't judge someone's decision to stop breastfeeding</b> (or to alternate it with formula) unless it's accompanied by ignorant statements like "My breasts are for my husband's enjoyment only" or "Breasts are sexual and it's disgusting to feed a baby with them." Yes, I'll admit I get judgmental about statements like that. But having been a mom who has struggled with breastfeeding, I won't judge another mom for her struggle.<br />
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Bug had formula, along with breast milk, for almost the first two weeks of his life, although the amounts were less and less each time. I still clearly remember what an agonizing time that was, crying and feeling so guilty and absolutely sick every time I put my breast away and put that bottle into his mouth. The formula made his belly ache, and he was a fussy, cranky baby to begin with. <b>I saw my body as a failure.</b> First my cervix had "failed me" by not opening enough to let him through. I had a c-section and was told that I was "unable" to give birth vaginally, to him and to any future babies. Then my breasts were failing me by being unable to provide enough milk for him. I researched, though, and reached out to breastfeeding-educated women and professionals. Eventually we went an entire day without ANY formula bottles. Then we had a day when there was one bottle, then the next day there were no bottles again. Eventually I stopped counting the days since his last formula bottle. <b>We had persevered, we had struggled immensely but we were now a 100% breastfeeding family. </b>I threw away all of the remaining formula.<br />
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After having been through that struggle, it seemed natural for me to offer advice and encouragement to other women who are struggling in the same way, <b><i>when they ask for it.</i></b> I don't walk up to strangers on the street and ask why they're feeding their baby a bottle. I don't troll online forums telling parents of formula-fed babies that they should have breastfed. But when a person I know and care about approaches me and, after months of talking about her determination to breastfeed, <b>starts telling me about how guilty and awful she feels about supplementing with formula and how sick it makes her baby and how her supply is dropping, </b>I offer hugs and love and some suggestions for increasing supply and getting baby back-to-breast. <b>If you want someone to cheer your decision for using formula despite the fact that it's making your baby throw up and your supply is dropping steadily, then tell me so, and OWN your decision.</b> Don't hide behind a passive-aggressive online posting about how <a href="http://www.analyticalarmadillo.co.uk/2012/01/breastfeeding-nazi-for-real.html">Breastfeeding Nazis</a> and Hippie Super Moms are extreme and have standards that can't be met. Don't try to pawn your guilt off on me.<br />
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I've been active on mom forums for as long as I've been a mom, so the terms "Breastfeeding Nazi" or "Nipple Nazi" or "Breastapo" are not unfamiliar to me, I've seen those terms being thrown around. It's still shocking to me, though, to have that kind of label directed at me after being approached and asked for help with breastfeeding. I can't even imagine a person visiting a library to borrow a book and then calling the librarian a Book Nazi, or going to a dance class to learn a new dance step and then calling the instructor a Dance Nazi. <b>If you find information and resources to help you in what you're learning to do, and then you decide that you don't want to do it anymore, it's ridiculous and just plain mean to lash out at the person you approached for help and call them a "Nazi."</b> Honestly, I don't have room in my life for that kind of passive-aggressive bullshit.<br />
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When I decide to do something in my life, I learn what I need to know about it, and then I go ahead and do it to the best of my ability. Sometimes, whatever it is, it's not the right decision and I don't pursue it any farther. Sometimes I go "all the way" with it. <b>The ownership for that decision lies with ME. Your decision to breastfeed (or not) lies with YOU.</b> It's selfish and immature, and extremely hurtful to the person who tried to help you, to lash out and say that the reason you can't succeed at breastfeeding is because Hippie Super Moms set such a high standard that nobody could possibly match that. There are plenty of women, now and throughout history, who have managed to breastfeed successfully, even overcoming enormous obstacles to do so. <b>None of those women, myself included, need to carry the guilt of women who either don't want to do what it takes in the first few weeks to make it work, or who are unable to for whatever reason.</b> Own your OWN decision about how you choose to feed your baby, and you'll be taking an important first step towards being personally responsible for your parenting choices and for your entire life.Unknownnoreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2919208035129629930.post-2936108017630057202012-01-20T12:15:00.000-08:002012-01-20T12:15:07.978-08:00"I didn't ride in a car seat, and I turned out fine.""I didn't ride in a car seat, and I turned out fine." What an infuriating response to the topic of car seat safety for kids. It occurs to me that the children who didn't ride in car seats and DIDN'T turn out fine may not be here today to make such remarks. It's very sad to say, but it's true. The resistance to car seat safety is something I have never been able to understand. Our children grow up so quickly and move on to so many new things. Before we know it they're off doing their own thing with their own people. Sometimes we have frighteningly little control over their safety in the world. One simple thing we can do as parents, though, is provide a safe, modern, expert-approved car seat that will hold them in the safest possible way in the case of an accident. Of course an accident could happen and they could be fine in the wrong sized seat, or in no seat at all, but is that something you want to take a gamble with or is that something you want to take every precaution with? Personally, I'm not taking any chances with my children's lives. Bug is comfortably riding in a five point harness at the age of 5 1/2 years, and BooBoo is rear-facing at 22 months. They both know that they're riding in the safest way for their size.<br />
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Over and over again there are stories about children being injured or killed in car crashes because they were in the wrong seat for their size, or in no safety seat whatsoever. It's heartbreaking.<br />
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"<span style="background-color: white; color: #333333; font-family: Verdana, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: 13px; line-height: 15px;">A WOMAN facing charges of dangerous driving causing the deaths of a niece and nephew had no child seats or booster seats in her car" </span>reports the <a href="http://www.independent.ie/national-news/courts/aunt-on-trial-for-child-crash-deaths-2986530.html">independent.ie</a>.<br />
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"<span style="background-color: white; color: #3b3a3b; font-family: Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 13px; line-height: 19px;">One child was riding without a seat belt or other restraint and suffered a leg injury. Another child had a shoulder belt on and had bruises and abrasions. The other was in a child safety seat and was not injured." </span> This is from a report by <a href="http://www.thedailyfairfield.com/news/state-police-six-injured-norwalk-rollover">The Daily Fairfield</a>.<br />
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From a <a href="http://www.wtvq.com/content/localnews/story/Mount-Vernon-Girl-Dies-Following-Car-Accident/ibIXxyayiUar4jr84GywYQ.cspx">Kentucky news station, ABC 36</a>: <span style="font-family: Arial, Verdana, sans-serif; font-size: 12px; text-align: left;">"A rear seat passenger, Jada Hayes, 7, of Mount Vernon, the daughter of Tony Hayes, was airlifted from the scene to U.K. Hospital where she died Sunday from her injuries. State Police said she was not belted-in."</span><br />
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<div style="text-align: left;"><span style="text-align: -webkit-auto;">Even <a href="http://articles.timesofindia.indiatimes.com/2012-01-16/mumbai/30631215_1_car-crash-vikrant-baby">in India</a>! The location doesn't really matter, children everywhere are safer in car seats. "</span><span style="background-color: white; color: #3f3f3f; font-family: Georgia; font-size: 15px; line-height: 20px;">The four-month-old boy, Ayush Nimkar, who died in a car crash on Palm Beach Road on Saturday could have been saved if the car he was travelling in had a baby car seat."</span></div><div style="text-align: left;"><span style="background-color: white; color: #3f3f3f; font-family: Georgia; font-size: 15px; line-height: 20px;"><br />
</span></div><div style="text-align: -webkit-auto;">"<span style="background-color: white; font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: 12px; line-height: 17px; text-align: left;">The five-year-old girl who died after being catapulted from a car on Boxing Day was not properly restrained at the time of the crash" </span>in this <a href="http://www.smh.com.au/national/crash-death-girl-5-had-no-child-seat-20111228-1pc1q.html">Sydney Morning Herald</a> report.</div><div style="text-align: -webkit-auto;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: -webkit-auto;"><span style="background-color: white; color: #033f6c; font-family: Verdana; font-size: 11px; text-align: left;">"... Hershey was driving southbound on snow-covered and slippery roads when her son, not identified, got out of his child seat and climbed on her lap" </span>reports the <a href="http://wcregister.net/shell-lake-child-dies-in-onevehicle-rollover-p7805-73.htm">Washburn County Register</a>. The little boy who climbed out of his seat was the only person killed in this single-vehicle accident.</div><div style="text-align: -webkit-auto;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: -webkit-auto;">The list goes on and on if you keep looking. "<span style="color: #2c2c2c; font-family: Helvetica, Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 16px; line-height: 24px; text-align: left;">Investigators say a 2-year-old boy who died and his 8-year-old sister who was critically injured were not secured in child safety seats when their car was hit head-on" </span>in this report that comes from the <a href="http://www.freep.com/article/20120109/NEWS01/120109028/Police-Children-not-in-safety-seats-before-fatal-head-on-crash-in-Detroit?odyssey=tab%7Cmostpopular%7Ctext%7CFRONTPAGE">Detroit Free Press</a>.</div><div style="text-align: -webkit-auto;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: -webkit-auto;">There are some details and <a href="http://thestir.cafemom.com/baby/108322/9_lifesaving_car_seat_rules">some important steps</a> to learn when it comes to strapping in your children safely, but it's well worth it. The<a href="http://www.bakersfield.com/news/local/x4969680/Kids-parents-take-the-high-road-on-new-car-seat-law"> new rules about car seat safety</a> for children from the ages of birth to adolescence are based on many, many years of strenuous research. There is no conspiracy to get people to buy new car seats - and believe me, I tend to be a conspiracy theorist myself. But keeping young kids rear-facing as long as possible, and then in a five point harness as long as possible after that, and then riding in a booster so that the car seat belt can safely protect them without putting their internal organs at risk - these are good, valid, safe practices that certainly won't HURT your child. Nobody plans to get into an accident, but we carry car insurance on our vehicles and our drivers and passengers just to be safe. Doesn't it make sense to transport our children <a href="http://www.nhtsa.gov/Safety/CPS">in the recommended way</a>, just to be safe?</div>Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2919208035129629930.post-10747670955023434082012-01-17T10:41:00.000-08:002012-01-17T10:42:33.778-08:00The staying power of New Years Non-Resolutions.It's been several years since I've made a genuine, publicly announced New Years resolution. This year I broke from that and made a resolution to send hand-written cards to people I love, and I'm sad to report that it's now January 17 and I have yet to mail one out. I actually regret making it an "official" resolution, and I'm going to excuse myself from it and downgrade it to my list of Non-Resolutions.<br />
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A couple of years after I stopped doing any kinds of New Years Resolutions<b> I started observing something that I very privately and personally called Non-Resolutions.</b> Every New Years feels like a fresh new start, a perfect time to start new traditions, dust off things that have been sitting un-used, get around to projects you've been putting off. This feeling of renewal is the very reason that people make resolutions!<b> I feel especially drawn to the feeling of a fresh start at this time of year because my birthday is December 16, so each new year is literally a new year of my own life, and I observe the Winter Solstice in my spiritual practices</b> - the longest night of the year, when we celebrate that the coming days will each be slightly longer and closer to the sun.<br />
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There's just something about a New Years Resolution, spoken aloud in the presence of family or friends, that gives you so much motivation to start and then leads you to fizzle out so hard in the end. <b>When I make a quiet and personal Non-Resolution to myself, for some reason I stick to it. </b>This year I told myself that I would take another few steps in being conscientious of our family's nutrition. We have had some baked treats (mostly homemade) and we did have a boxed birthday cake to celebrate The Man's birthday. I'll also admit to taking the kids out to eat chicken nuggets and apple slices at a well known fast food establishment on a full day of errands and shopping. But I'm proud to say that we haven't been buying convenience snack foods, which we were guilty of until recently. We'd made huge changes to our nutrition in regards to family meals and snacks for the kids, but The Man and I would gleefully sit down with a bag of chips to watch TV at the end of the day. <b>The snack foods we keep in the house now are dried and fresh fruit, vegetables, granola bars, a variety of nuts and seeds, yogurt, cheese, lunch meats, hard boiled eggs, peanut butter, and other such whole or mostly whole foods.</b> It took me a little while to stop craving chips and processed salty snack foods, but I can honestly say now that when I look down the snack food aisle at the grocery store I think to myself <b>"Oh... wow, that food is BRIGHT neon orange, that really can't be healthy," </b>instead of salivating over how deliciously it would melt in my mouth.<br />
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The Man and I have made a decision together, something that we hope will bring us closer together as a couple as well as make us healthier as a family. <b>We are going to learn together about nutrition and good, healthy, yummy eating.</b> We're already off to a great start with our homemade from scratch meals, and now we're really going to get into the nuts and bolts of it all - balancing our Omega 3 and Omega 6 oils at a healthy level, adequate B vitamins, antioxidant-rich food built into the menu. I'm really looking forward to it and I hope that he's not just being dragged along for the ride!Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2919208035129629930.post-91770834149276373102012-01-14T22:24:00.001-08:002012-03-17T13:22:29.966-07:00Happy Birth Day to my life-long best friend.Today is the day that my best friend since 10 years old became a mom. I've spent all day checking Facebook for the latest pictures of her and her brand new baby girl. She is absolutely gorgeous and she looks just like her beautiful Mama, and even though I'm 3,000 miles away I'm already completely in love with her.<br />
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My friend is like a sister to me, and no matter how long we go without seeing each other we always catch up as if it's only been a few weeks. Today was such an important day in her life, today was the day she started her journey into a life of raising a tiny human being. She is a kind and loving person and I have already seen the kind of loving mother she is by the way she nurtured her baby and her body throughout her pregnancy, so I have no doubt that she will be a wonderful Mama to her darling little girl.<br />
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It's funny how much I reflect on my own birth experiences when someone I love gives birth. My journey through the 5 1/2 years of mothering I have under my belt has been absolutely transformative for me. I've learned so much along the way and have grown so much as a person. There have been many struggles but there have been many more joys. Every decision I've made and every circumstance that has happened has been an opportunity to grow and learn. It's such a gift to be raising some of the next generation of human beings, and Gen, I'm so excited and so proud to be sharing this journey of Motherhood with you. If your Baby Girl is anything like you, she will be feisty, funny, thoughtful, feminine but not afraid to get her hands dirty, creative, have a fantastic sense of style, and a heart that is bursting with love and compassion. Welcome to life as a mom, and you know that I will be here for you every step of the way. I love you so much and I can't wait to hug you and your sweet baby!Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2919208035129629930.post-36303613569519299062012-01-08T18:43:00.001-08:002012-03-17T13:23:26.044-07:00My perfect birth song.Before my home birth with BooBoo I spent a lot of time putting together a playlist of all different kinds of music on my iPod, so I could listen to anything that I felt like and zone out into my headphones while laboring. <b>It turned out that there was only one song I actually wanted to listen to.</b><br />
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</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">Through my entire transition and right up until the moment I pushed him out I played James Taylor's Greatest Hits, but I'd have been perfectly content just to listen to Carolina In My Mind over and over again. In fact, at the end when my headphones were taken off, it wasn't because I wanted them to. <b>I would have been happy to listen to the song right up until the moment I held my baby in my arms. </b>I don't know what Mr. Taylor himself would have to say about this, but I love the fact that I labored while completely zoning out to these beautiful lyrics and calming music. In fact, I wasn't going to Carolina or anywhere else in my mind, I was deep within my body and deeply experiencing my contractions, feeling my body and my baby work together - but<b> this soothing and beautiful song really helped me find my relaxation and inner focus.</b></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">Have you listened to music during labor? What is your "perfect birth song"?</div>Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2919208035129629930.post-57014631810492892382012-01-07T22:01:00.000-08:002012-01-07T22:09:12.406-08:00Pregnancy care is all wrong.We're doing it wrong when it comes to prenatal care. I've never understood why, at the very beginning of the pregnancy when<b> there is so much opportunity for learning and preparation for growth</b> (literally AND figuratively!) prenatal appointments are often skipped entirely during the first trimester, once a month at best during the second trimester, and once a week or even more often in the final few weeks. To me, this is completely backwards from how it ought to work. If I were in charge of pregnancy "policy" for our country (oh, what a different prenatal and birthing environment we'd have...) <b>I'd have the highest frequency of appointments at the beginning of the pregnancy</b>, and then leave the huge, tired pregnant lady alone to prepare for her labor in the third trimester, unless she specifically requests more appointments or there is a problem that requires monitoring.<br />
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It makes sense! Pregnancy is the beginning of a lifelong journey, and no woman comes out "the same" after becoming a mother. Not to mention, the fact that a brand new LIFE is beginning. Mothers (and fathers!) should be learning as early as possible about bonding and attachment, nutrition for both mother and baby, safe baby care, and self-care. <b>The first trimester is the absolutely crucial time when cells are multiplying rapidly, organs and bones are forming, the brain is forming</b>, and every part of the embryo is excruciatingly new. This is the time to be particularly conscious about complete nutrition, proper vitamins and minerals, getting enough rest, drinking enough water - and yet, it's the time when many women are barely able to keep any food down, they are exhausted and sore, but they may not even be talking about the pregnancy with supportive friends or family out of fear of "something happening." The first trimester of pregnancy has many challenges, but <b>there are many care providers who won't schedule patients for prenatal appointments at all</b>, or maybe just once, during this critical time period.<br />
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On the other hand, <b>we live in a culture that is obsessed with controlling every aspect of birth</b>, right down to choosing when and how, <b>and this obsession is reflected in the care that pregnant women receive as they near their due dates</b>. When I was pregnant with Bug I had appointments every two weeks starting in the third trimester, then every week starting at 36 weeks. Every regular appointment at the OB office ended up leading to me being sent to the OB ward at the hospital for some reason or another, "just to check" on something, so one appointment each week became two or even three appointments each week. In reality, unless there is a health condition that is being monitored, there is no need for a woman to have that many appointments in the weeks leading up to the birth, unless she specifically WANTS the extra time with her care provider. <b>Certainly the time could be well spent talking about the birth plan and helping the mother and her birth support team prepare and plan</b>, but I don't often hear about those kinds of appointments from women who see an OB for pregnancy care. I do, however, hear about an extraordinary amount of women being sent for non-stress tests, ultrasounds, cervical exams, stripping of membranes and other such methods of controlling the end of pregnancy. It seems to me that instead of spending so much time, energy, and money creating this anxiety over when the baby will be born, <b>we should be letting third trimester moms get a little extra relaxation time, or maybe prescribe a nice foot rub and a hot cup of herbal tea.</b><br />
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At the end of pregnancy,<b> as long as you can catch baby's normal heart rate</b> (this can be done very easily with a simple fetoscope, no need for an ultrasound or a doppler) <b>and baby has regular periods of movement,</b> there really aren't going to be any huge developments. The baby is already completely formed and there are a few very important things going on - lung development and brain development, as well as a layer of fat to help with temperature regulation, to name a few. The critical time period of cell division and tissue formation is long over. While it's still incredibly important to stay well nourished, hydrated, and rested, <b>at the end of pregnancy a mother can't help but to sit and look at her belly and think about the life inside of it </b>and how it will affect the rest of her own life. At the beginning of pregnancy it's a lot easier to push those thoughts aside, to brush them off with the thought that it's still going to be quite a while before the baby actually comes. In our culture <b>we are trained to think of pregnancy as something that we should attempt to push aside and ignore as much as possible until it becomes too much to ignore.</b> When you consider, however, that the critical framework for development is from birth to 3 years, it might seem that we should put more energy and effort into educating people who find themselves nine months away from raising our next generation.Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2919208035129629930.post-62173179120820502612012-01-06T13:45:00.000-08:002012-01-06T21:23:01.401-08:00Forget about "that time of the month."I'm trying out this new self-respect and self-love thing, and finding (the more I learn about my body) that this self-love even extends to my monthly cycle. This sounds crazy, especially to anyone with an irregular or difficult period, I'm sure. But have you ever considered how much our emotions are tied in with our hormones, which are (obviously) involved in our monthly cycles? Many of us are aware of our tendency to become, how you say, "psychotic" or "a basket case" or "a raging bitch" during our periods, but what about the rest of the month?<br />
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Over the past several months I've been getting to know my body and my mind, right down to the seemingly silliest little mood swings and uterine cramps. My period comes every 29 days or so. This is more often than I go out to eat at a nice restaurant or even go shopping by myself, so it seems to me that I ought to get comfortable with it and accept it for being the way it is, and maybe even listen to it (and my other symptoms, not just the actual bleeding) when it is different in any way.<br />
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When I'm on my period I can be a real irritable grouch. If I reflect on that and think about it in a more positive way, though - if I assume that those feelings exist for a good reason and not just to cause discomfort for myself or anyone else - I realize that during the time of my period, I'm very reflective and contemplative. I tend to think about how things are going in my life and in the world around me, how I feel about those things, and how I might change something if it's not working well. When I consider my "moody" feelings from that perspective, I realize that crankiness or irritability would easily stem from being told to forget about something or stop dwelling on something that I'm trying to make sense of, whether it's myself or someone else who says "get over it." I have realized that for most of my adult life I've tried to force myself to get over any negative emotions that come up during my period, instead of just sitting with them and thinking about where those emotions are coming from. When there are circumstances going on in my life that are hard or depressing and I have no control over them, I'm much more likely to be emotional and tearful during my period than during times when I feel relatively happy and content during the rest of the month. Another thing I've realized is that I like to clean while I'm dealing with my period. That is the time of month when I want to be a homebody, to stay in my nest and organize it, so to speak. When I have my period is when I'm most likely to rearrange furniture or re-decorate a room.<br />
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The entire month, however, has various hormonal changes and events going on. For the couple of weeks after my period I feel particularly energetic and revitalized. I'll feel optimistic about projects that might have felt overwhelming to me during the previous week or so. About midway through our cycle, of course, is the time of ovulation. The week or so leading up to ovulation tends to be the time of month when women are feeling particularly sexual. Of course this has a biological purpose - the time of the month to attract a mate is the time of month when your ovaries are preparing to release an egg for fertilization, right? Around my ovulation time I feel very nurturing and loving, not just in a sexual way, although that particular aspect might be my favorite part of mid-cycle. *wink* In all seriousness, that's when my self-esteem and self-confidence are highest, and it's when I feel the most active and social. Once my ovulation has occurred and my cycle starts to slowly turn back towards menstruation I feel myself slowly start to cycle back towards the feelings of quiet contemplation and organization.<br />
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When I try to deny or squash my normal, natural emotions, they won't tolerate it. Hormones are our puppet masters and in my personal experience, they find a way to grab a hold and make you pay attention to your body. When I lovingly accept my grouchy days as well as my happy days, allow myself to grieve and cry when I need to and then allow myself to move on and try something new when I'm ready, my cycle is something that I can actively be a part of instead of something uncomfortable that happens to me. Forget about saying "that time of the month" in the polite way we've been trained. As women, our entire month, every month, is filled with a rich array of physical and emotional experiences, and we don't have to limit ourselves to only acknowledging the time of month when we need feminine hygiene products. This is the only body I have to live in, at least for this lifetime, so I really strive to live in peace and harmony with myself and my monthly rhythms, and I encourage you to try as well. There's nothing to lose, and a whole new relationship with yourself to gain.Unknownnoreply@blogger.com5tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2919208035129629930.post-29321346809700045912012-01-06T08:53:00.000-08:002012-01-06T14:10:34.929-08:00Yoga time.The Man has been really wonderful lately and has been taking BooBoo to the playground to burn off some energy every morning after he drops Bug off at school. (He's been working closing shifts at work, so he doesn't have to go in until 10:30.) I've had my necessary amount of coffee, now I'm going to pour myself a nice glass of water, put on a bra, and turn on the TV. Never in a million years did I think I'd love our Wii Fit so much when we decided to buy our Wii. The yoga especially is really helpful for my lower back, which has really been bothering me lately.<br />
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Do you do yoga? Any other kind of workout? Do you take a class, use a video, a Wii or Kinect, or maybe an exercise machine? What is your absolute favorite way to work out?Unknownnoreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2919208035129629930.post-61626907207490863282012-01-05T21:19:00.000-08:002012-01-06T14:10:05.389-08:00Why don't I drink more water?My gut tells me that most of the problems I deal with, physically have to do with not being well hydrated. I'm a healthy and active person, and I feel good (most of the time) but when I don't drink enough water I feel tired, get a dull headache, dry skin, sore joints. When I'm conscious about increasing my water intake I feel better almost immediately, so you would think I'd train myself to simply drink more water more often.<br />
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I don't really understand why I have a problem with drinking enough water. A lot of other people have told me they have the same problem, so apparently it's not just me. It's not that I have an aversion to water, I just don't get around to pouring myself a glass and drinking it very often. And oftentimes I'll pour myself a glass, sit down to drink it, and end up sharing it with a tiny person who backwashes his most recent snack into it. Somehow the glass of water loses its appeal pretty quickly when that happens. Having a toy or a sticky hand receive a bath in my glass of water is pretty icky, too. Regardless of the possibility of ickiness, though, I really just need to get myself a drink more often, for the sake of taking good care of my body. There are too many days when I don't drink more than a glass or two of water and then I get super thirsty when I sit down at night so I'll drink three or four glasses in one sitting, and that never makes for a good night of sleep.<br />
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As I head to the kitchen to refill my glass.Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2919208035129629930.post-90283782360124347642012-01-05T13:19:00.000-08:002012-01-06T14:09:41.469-08:003500 mile drive in pictures.<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhXbdf_cHYoK9jq2byVCK4ndMBEWbu_z1ZNP_ByJMljaqVhXtwQGuH7jaeNWxok9sSJLp6n3tSWzzJcOeXLGVrbBeQ8bSoth1gv3VsS-f4VFEnZdypvQyAL_WZtoKW2zbnACtoTqjVZcAs/s1600/East+Coast+058+%2528Medium%2529.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhXbdf_cHYoK9jq2byVCK4ndMBEWbu_z1ZNP_ByJMljaqVhXtwQGuH7jaeNWxok9sSJLp6n3tSWzzJcOeXLGVrbBeQ8bSoth1gv3VsS-f4VFEnZdypvQyAL_WZtoKW2zbnACtoTqjVZcAs/s320/East+Coast+058+%2528Medium%2529.JPG" width="240" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">The night before the Yard Sale To End All Yard Sales. </td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiilLSF_J7VQjm2InTgxYFWwZ02c1wQkeKs7fERi8r5W6BKRlKHuN_PnF_Y270J-yA0bEFqStvRx7bn8EassN5v_-kki_W17xlcOhtroO2tG14cPW0JcO5ow1vh7qH_zzrIza_ydcl9LLg/s1600/East+Coast+135+%2528Medium%2529.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiilLSF_J7VQjm2InTgxYFWwZ02c1wQkeKs7fERi8r5W6BKRlKHuN_PnF_Y270J-yA0bEFqStvRx7bn8EassN5v_-kki_W17xlcOhtroO2tG14cPW0JcO5ow1vh7qH_zzrIza_ydcl9LLg/s320/East+Coast+135+%2528Medium%2529.JPG" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">The trailer! Next step: Fill it with everything we have left.</td></tr>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Looks good, but I think we can still squeeze a few things in.</td></tr>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Saying goodbye was so hard.</td></tr>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">All loaded and locked up and ready to go. Notice the Tibetan prayer flags on top of the car.</td></tr>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">First stop: Hiram, Maine. We arrived after dark but that didn't stop us from playing outside!</td></tr>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Lots of loving for Barney Pig.</td></tr>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Three families with 8 kids packed into a little farm house! What fun we had.</td></tr>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Me and some of my dearest friends, Joye and Amanda. A great celebration of friendship before our <br />
cross-country voyage.</td></tr>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">The bridge out of Maine. The trip started to feel very real at this point.</td></tr>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Massachusetts Welcomes You!</td></tr>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Our second overnight stay, in Salem, MA - the family of a close friend from college.</td></tr>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">There seems to be a giant trying to get into your cute pink house.</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj73KR-ugX4-Q7YD1bznddRRZRsIpeC2fUlGITv-pfQXMF8O1kGw4wD1YvKFosyC3Yn1qy8OsSDAT9E3I8DZWGuITtZqhwuq3ehML-e1HW5aAJgH3UXCgNKujTg3BMKAyyBOfkeKLLjuxA/s1600/East+Coast+215+%2528Medium%2529.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj73KR-ugX4-Q7YD1bznddRRZRsIpeC2fUlGITv-pfQXMF8O1kGw4wD1YvKFosyC3Yn1qy8OsSDAT9E3I8DZWGuITtZqhwuq3ehML-e1HW5aAJgH3UXCgNKujTg3BMKAyyBOfkeKLLjuxA/s320/East+Coast+215+%2528Medium%2529.JPG" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Next stop, my sister-in-law's bridal shower, where the kids were delighted to find a Candy Buffet.</td></tr>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Bring on the Sugar High.</td></tr>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">A visit with Titia Jessica at her bridal shower, and apparently BooBoo was morphing into Demon Child.</td></tr>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption">My sister-in-law and her new husband. Could we possibly get a normal face out of our kids for these pictures? Not when they're full of lollipops, apparently.</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgq6KdYKE3blKxE0B_JM30dtmZmC-whNZTZaKVsGfWvV-3x4mdQ4vdxYgvACEHprEDiiJU1TCiRV1prY8F42y-x6roQw1k5fNA5-g9fguOAh0W6eyBJjZPjiwIaNeP9kFJuaNByoU7JsTU/s1600/East+Coast+232+%2528Medium%2529.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgq6KdYKE3blKxE0B_JM30dtmZmC-whNZTZaKVsGfWvV-3x4mdQ4vdxYgvACEHprEDiiJU1TCiRV1prY8F42y-x6roQw1k5fNA5-g9fguOAh0W6eyBJjZPjiwIaNeP9kFJuaNByoU7JsTU/s320/East+Coast+232+%2528Medium%2529.JPG" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Late night drive out of Massachusetts.</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEivrINZRYiyCkjVcOlae_5efNzjZDcCI9z-dlftTaxrsK6H5XFa2O-T9GOgtNFrmbc13N9Kj4DvhxPfb0j5TqekFsFeBbSQNGTf9qC5G93hOhhfkR7AaKdBXrY7i2Pqi_eZCEM6lnyktAI/s1600/East+Coast+233+%2528Medium%2529.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEivrINZRYiyCkjVcOlae_5efNzjZDcCI9z-dlftTaxrsK6H5XFa2O-T9GOgtNFrmbc13N9Kj4DvhxPfb0j5TqekFsFeBbSQNGTf9qC5G93hOhhfkR7AaKdBXrY7i2Pqi_eZCEM6lnyktAI/s320/East+Coast+233+%2528Medium%2529.JPG" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">At least sugar highs lead to sugar crashes, which make for a quiet car ride.</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhNgr7fUAL55SRb9mCetk0kYZDOKUc_bUjh_9r1eotfdUpmRn_kPhKR1iJZzddZMLlB9Dleu03MKZuwqNs1O5mUvRubzxYv-I9euC-hsNxfIyIlZzAf-C8PjQnI6341J4VbU7Kv9xbARxs/s1600/East+Coast+235+%2528Medium%2529.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhNgr7fUAL55SRb9mCetk0kYZDOKUc_bUjh_9r1eotfdUpmRn_kPhKR1iJZzddZMLlB9Dleu03MKZuwqNs1O5mUvRubzxYv-I9euC-hsNxfIyIlZzAf-C8PjQnI6341J4VbU7Kv9xbARxs/s320/East+Coast+235+%2528Medium%2529.JPG" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Breakfast after our third night, at the home of our long time friends Ken and Vanessa and their beautiful family.</td></tr>
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<tr><td><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiKEuLzhumE4yf4DtMHdtuvYk3z127DsfxMNZtVgeDrpomSZ8Y3GIYiqn5uYzKkSxpsO7d5sG11V7ayqdA_FVOLjs4Z8x3YqQjxkSEcwMPGZfVQOVknylNRsegzOgAKGFdFEKLYdzrzriQ/s1600/East+Coast+242+%2528Medium%2529.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiKEuLzhumE4yf4DtMHdtuvYk3z127DsfxMNZtVgeDrpomSZ8Y3GIYiqn5uYzKkSxpsO7d5sG11V7ayqdA_FVOLjs4Z8x3YqQjxkSEcwMPGZfVQOVknylNRsegzOgAKGFdFEKLYdzrzriQ/s320/East+Coast+242+%2528Medium%2529.JPG" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption">The biggest and busiest play date EVER, and a bonus visit with Marla, one of my dearest friends from college!</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgNPWhho93fpB7ff5Xm1IOE7POWlkIbaZEa0BERUiR1MD03_hUqUzMIqaIrY5nvqqGuDWXZv_LGbkcaVyssHtfbrnHzBoLwoVqodgM25Zu0L376wIcTr-aepff72BOF1VWnk-NQaY1IIjg/s1600/East+Coast+248+%2528Medium%2529.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgNPWhho93fpB7ff5Xm1IOE7POWlkIbaZEa0BERUiR1MD03_hUqUzMIqaIrY5nvqqGuDWXZv_LGbkcaVyssHtfbrnHzBoLwoVqodgM25Zu0L376wIcTr-aepff72BOF1VWnk-NQaY1IIjg/s320/East+Coast+248+%2528Medium%2529.JPG" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">I love the way kids are never strangers to each other.</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg5fImGfc-j0TXa1ptKCuSpzozYuu2ucQXIPCAXuaXIn4FVj0wDz3Iqt1kg-rB12vFj4Km9WZBkN_Id8rbu7o9j27FNCqJEkmaQrdu2uKGuU5dopbS3_mj2PdjdY_CGfsNn61CVPX6wOII/s1600/East+Coast+253+%2528Medium%2529.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg5fImGfc-j0TXa1ptKCuSpzozYuu2ucQXIPCAXuaXIn4FVj0wDz3Iqt1kg-rB12vFj4Km9WZBkN_Id8rbu7o9j27FNCqJEkmaQrdu2uKGuU5dopbS3_mj2PdjdY_CGfsNn61CVPX6wOII/s320/East+Coast+253+%2528Medium%2529.JPG" width="240" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">As always, lots of loving for the piggy.</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgFIIg_WBKx335TOG3SB7jY6DA7tr1e28ezwWFaSekNsWGxSoUBp36A5Xu9BDL94WZiIH5pKtmwieb3Wl_dYj70xHg-168JeJapiR_H4L394UWTSrbuAaN9IEI2Up7Tca5b4Q2kt3xys5Q/s1600/East+Coast+262+%2528Medium%2529.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgFIIg_WBKx335TOG3SB7jY6DA7tr1e28ezwWFaSekNsWGxSoUBp36A5Xu9BDL94WZiIH5pKtmwieb3Wl_dYj70xHg-168JeJapiR_H4L394UWTSrbuAaN9IEI2Up7Tca5b4Q2kt3xys5Q/s320/East+Coast+262+%2528Medium%2529.JPG" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Dear friends from different times in our lives, brought together around our beautiful children!</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiEUJq6pzYjchHTD7F2VRs89QBaVkSNA91_A1b3GxwKSCnZ6L7ovMuPQTACiw7xP41epCYzwU4ojyrQzl5VL34m3BzvlROi-2bKVnyvuSIjXRw1AwsKJARU-6k_zGtLKR_nmr0yPMRMIYU/s1600/281490_1878071033214_1284406681_31591885_7611970_n.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="256" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiEUJq6pzYjchHTD7F2VRs89QBaVkSNA91_A1b3GxwKSCnZ6L7ovMuPQTACiw7xP41epCYzwU4ojyrQzl5VL34m3BzvlROi-2bKVnyvuSIjXRw1AwsKJARU-6k_zGtLKR_nmr0yPMRMIYU/s320/281490_1878071033214_1284406681_31591885_7611970_n.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Heading towards the Tappan Zee Bridge in New York.</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgUoUokBAXlRPiAJFOxIBpRbIdPuiExCFejZ1afvCLeMSOh5uYR9VP_GVs-5SnhGCgIpwf4arhp5YUD6D-b7uYAi7xGZNs-E7qZpSV06c71WMWBVlNIeNggxNRH2Tyre7956gwzJII61WA/s1600/250352_1878143795033_1284406681_31592202_8340461_n.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="256" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgUoUokBAXlRPiAJFOxIBpRbIdPuiExCFejZ1afvCLeMSOh5uYR9VP_GVs-5SnhGCgIpwf4arhp5YUD6D-b7uYAi7xGZNs-E7qZpSV06c71WMWBVlNIeNggxNRH2Tyre7956gwzJII61WA/s320/250352_1878143795033_1284406681_31592202_8340461_n.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">This was a trip down memory lane. Morristown, NJ was where my family attended church when I was growing up.</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg17GVHWcMFtCfwt67p8epw46KzbSiui1ZMAOTV3k9QaIgjdMXPeRu5mjpH3L0aW3Rn9qv88VYfr3aPgLjyd74yIYYrJ1z3XPzWCaOqszfwgRel1z_spyoGf8nUw5mAhB5eES2S0ZVhjhQ/s1600/East+Coast+281+%2528Medium%2529.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg17GVHWcMFtCfwt67p8epw46KzbSiui1ZMAOTV3k9QaIgjdMXPeRu5mjpH3L0aW3Rn9qv88VYfr3aPgLjyd74yIYYrJ1z3XPzWCaOqszfwgRel1z_spyoGf8nUw5mAhB5eES2S0ZVhjhQ/s320/East+Coast+281+%2528Medium%2529.JPG" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Fourth overnight stop: The home of my lifelong best friend Gen, and her amazing collection of dolls!</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhogfy4qg48J1gbq0lz0W0mLcps0BkEh8xFZMgkfO4nO74OyRSP6BWVD3ONCyBFUMx8GTMfZXcGNB2UfBQoyzlRcrq8xmSK8UqvWpT3v_ZaxUw5vhvj_ueQDh_IkRru7FQNJuwDJRTn90I/s1600/East+Coast+289+%2528Medium%2529.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhogfy4qg48J1gbq0lz0W0mLcps0BkEh8xFZMgkfO4nO74OyRSP6BWVD3ONCyBFUMx8GTMfZXcGNB2UfBQoyzlRcrq8xmSK8UqvWpT3v_ZaxUw5vhvj_ueQDh_IkRru7FQNJuwDJRTn90I/s320/East+Coast+289+%2528Medium%2529.JPG" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">I love this woman as much as I loved her when we were 10 years old!</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEixBSYZtji48K4zho6z7xtgYHUzzywJc-kVvHUGhcda44FMd7fh_GeuWv1x77uv8RugKSwVDInrsaE8nSx9_bGHMvlZILxBHYA8SersFckfC9lQ8bohq-hxR90-ZU51ByzssDqrHU2hUGo/s1600/East+Coast+291+%2528Medium%2529.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEixBSYZtji48K4zho6z7xtgYHUzzywJc-kVvHUGhcda44FMd7fh_GeuWv1x77uv8RugKSwVDInrsaE8nSx9_bGHMvlZILxBHYA8SersFckfC9lQ8bohq-hxR90-ZU51ByzssDqrHU2hUGo/s320/East+Coast+291+%2528Medium%2529.JPG" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Schooleys Mountain General Store, the hub of activity in the tiny town I lived in, and where I had my first full-time job.</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh_To_uDwd2sMOWR6Ba8CiGNGJqewF2_rN2kxG2sIagdF9V8B66ls_SgPXAFegJE9ePYkXHtclYWeshtmALphK5SU3BDVABZ0EBMY_ZabKboIRMB8swmz0I2pYtL_ncc3RQ3RVAT0cy17I/s1600/East+Coast+293+%2528Medium%2529.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh_To_uDwd2sMOWR6Ba8CiGNGJqewF2_rN2kxG2sIagdF9V8B66ls_SgPXAFegJE9ePYkXHtclYWeshtmALphK5SU3BDVABZ0EBMY_ZabKboIRMB8swmz0I2pYtL_ncc3RQ3RVAT0cy17I/s320/East+Coast+293+%2528Medium%2529.JPG" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Checking on the animals at a Pennsylvania rest stop.</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgDSSmpFKF5nBoY762dtiK-MQO7YveKdjthoGkZTF-Yglewz98Kc7-99ahN74cwNs80vQr8XijEeS3OTxQPTxnyHs_Z1VPY-QQwC4JHQmF0-7eYjOXlR6koDzfaMa5Wms8sbnzkvxhYEpI/s1600/East+Coast+294+%2528Medium%2529.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgDSSmpFKF5nBoY762dtiK-MQO7YveKdjthoGkZTF-Yglewz98Kc7-99ahN74cwNs80vQr8XijEeS3OTxQPTxnyHs_Z1VPY-QQwC4JHQmF0-7eYjOXlR6koDzfaMa5Wms8sbnzkvxhYEpI/s320/East+Coast+294+%2528Medium%2529.JPG" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Taking a running around break, but not ready to get back in the car!</td></tr>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">"What's that smell?" as I notice this leaning on the headrest of my seat.</td></tr>
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A wake-up play date in Columbus, Ohio after our fifth overnight stop, at the home of Wendy and Arthur.</div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhBrnmY5hWadbmzbOLyXpmJ740o47wht38vd1loKDE-_XwgObe1l-PMCdrutUjJdzFi2OemP6csYd1PWPSNlS7dIzkQAS0_XIlS3iksReZ1dSrZtXZAvt4itpsUimAy8vbSXiJOFNviKlc/s1600/East+Coast+304+%2528Medium%2529.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhBrnmY5hWadbmzbOLyXpmJ740o47wht38vd1loKDE-_XwgObe1l-PMCdrutUjJdzFi2OemP6csYd1PWPSNlS7dIzkQAS0_XIlS3iksReZ1dSrZtXZAvt4itpsUimAy8vbSXiJOFNviKlc/s320/East+Coast+304+%2528Medium%2529.JPG" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">This woman is amazing. Even though she was all the way in Ohio, Wendy was a huge source of support to me when I was in labor with BooBoo.</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjDjjl8x-DrmxgvFMIqugZmUU3-hJLY893ww1IW_7T13UMciLA6Y-E11pkeHNvKvprEpOxIaiZatayd-rAUzdpjpKtaTV8FulY46bd2HMBacJQB-g-1m6ESyxOV3EFafqwfoAzDjBwi7ng/s1600/East+Coast+306+%2528Medium%2529.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjDjjl8x-DrmxgvFMIqugZmUU3-hJLY893ww1IW_7T13UMciLA6Y-E11pkeHNvKvprEpOxIaiZatayd-rAUzdpjpKtaTV8FulY46bd2HMBacJQB-g-1m6ESyxOV3EFafqwfoAzDjBwi7ng/s320/East+Coast+306+%2528Medium%2529.JPG" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Woohoo, bring on the country music!</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEilPjMJSZJ5joQaF8cUP4MCyHrBPg9xX_YTZ_DrSFlo-TF9rz-C7xTqpgRImVl4lz2vCTaxNTp6K3b-e-vWTNBtDmtnBV6Sl9MrNCxX1TeSRIGn_T81Ovbmdi8xh0DfonDhDUkK14z6SH8/s1600/East+Coast+307+%2528Medium%2529.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEilPjMJSZJ5joQaF8cUP4MCyHrBPg9xX_YTZ_DrSFlo-TF9rz-C7xTqpgRImVl4lz2vCTaxNTp6K3b-e-vWTNBtDmtnBV6Sl9MrNCxX1TeSRIGn_T81Ovbmdi8xh0DfonDhDUkK14z6SH8/s320/East+Coast+307+%2528Medium%2529.JPG" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Am I glowing?</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgVGFIAKH0iB41kLi_gE-re8bWP-Fg0O9UfFPftb7qWNod_ARwbPviKqagAD27fAUuL-308yVZftUM6bqvyIUXA3wbphFmKVkWZtBBDYTxY-u21JGDS8rKOnPfhpsOQIA5p5PIOnuWCcgc/s1600/285459_1882453502773_1284406681_31597959_7024042_n.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="256" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgVGFIAKH0iB41kLi_gE-re8bWP-Fg0O9UfFPftb7qWNod_ARwbPviKqagAD27fAUuL-308yVZftUM6bqvyIUXA3wbphFmKVkWZtBBDYTxY-u21JGDS8rKOnPfhpsOQIA5p5PIOnuWCcgc/s320/285459_1882453502773_1284406681_31597959_7024042_n.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Sixth overnight stop. Exhausted, emotional late-night arrival at Katie's house.</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgM9ZcK1Oy0unZla6gfZGDJUqxD7W7bqDl9UkV3pc5fwkAhzxR2kJI1CxyYsEjHeyee3-KjYkefQ5LhFRHT_rruo6o_TFWNP6gysu89hjSr0gF7v9IKN8f7slHgk1jbj47Laqwpv5QTKKc/s1600/TN+to+AR+009+%2528Medium%2529.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgM9ZcK1Oy0unZla6gfZGDJUqxD7W7bqDl9UkV3pc5fwkAhzxR2kJI1CxyYsEjHeyee3-KjYkefQ5LhFRHT_rruo6o_TFWNP6gysu89hjSr0gF7v9IKN8f7slHgk1jbj47Laqwpv5QTKKc/s320/TN+to+AR+009+%2528Medium%2529.JPG" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">How delicious! We still talk about how great this meal was.</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiCfhTy3jkWHljAmo2rNiczqUF3MOYTpvp1kIErz_B1S7vekTo-Yaa8hlvlCrmlLZIlRNa89ojORSoT5P8yNpkhi8QmtOGtoTfFx5iqKuBugegORfWwLxx6rj6Chce3Zw-NJgfhl65kAf0/s1600/TN+to+AR+010+%2528Medium%2529.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiCfhTy3jkWHljAmo2rNiczqUF3MOYTpvp1kIErz_B1S7vekTo-Yaa8hlvlCrmlLZIlRNa89ojORSoT5P8yNpkhi8QmtOGtoTfFx5iqKuBugegORfWwLxx6rj6Chce3Zw-NJgfhl65kAf0/s320/TN+to+AR+010+%2528Medium%2529.JPG" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Finger-lickin' good! A relaxing day hanging around Memphis, where we spent the seventh night of our trip.</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhqXxORPghJGxAG-6UPSB5kevh0QHTaHdXvczJ6ilL5-KkN8LxyZshQLOAyxpNePALDcqX78yTpZS6kt-1fAgKynVXzSWxFki0bud8FcMAN-zZg1a2NSqXuKrzCc-HruBLxETS4jr6w7qA/s1600/TN+to+AR+012+%2528Medium%2529.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhqXxORPghJGxAG-6UPSB5kevh0QHTaHdXvczJ6ilL5-KkN8LxyZshQLOAyxpNePALDcqX78yTpZS6kt-1fAgKynVXzSWxFki0bud8FcMAN-zZg1a2NSqXuKrzCc-HruBLxETS4jr6w7qA/s320/TN+to+AR+012+%2528Medium%2529.JPG" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Walking in Memphis...</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiY35aTlGv7DpGzsPdOwuZsZvwYVe1tFzz2QHHxw4EWw1phhmuT9piuE64sS2PqKqUhNkSr-i-MCa9c9U5qOkGIHbfe3Pva5cVuLUwvM7g5mCaB1GCmbo6mknpoo7DgiRCckJU5XGu4FRA/s1600/198693_1883939499922_1284406681_31599593_2424023_n.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="256" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiY35aTlGv7DpGzsPdOwuZsZvwYVe1tFzz2QHHxw4EWw1phhmuT9piuE64sS2PqKqUhNkSr-i-MCa9c9U5qOkGIHbfe3Pva5cVuLUwvM7g5mCaB1GCmbo6mknpoo7DgiRCckJU5XGu4FRA/s320/198693_1883939499922_1284406681_31599593_2424023_n.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Turns out we were visiting Memphis the week of Elvis's birthday! Couldn't have planned that better if we tried.</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgqdA3IH3f6ju_la_YjQ75BnBO-9Ry4WY01ANUwYRQilJaTY-E4K6qAqiP3-2FYKPdIv0pa2hg17JrDYYPfEBC9JcoSocIY39DhVvOCrQqTwWYJtvd_BPF1x4q-z-x8Vnyp2pTccyzQlTc/s1600/TN+to+AR+018+%2528Medium%2529.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgqdA3IH3f6ju_la_YjQ75BnBO-9Ry4WY01ANUwYRQilJaTY-E4K6qAqiP3-2FYKPdIv0pa2hg17JrDYYPfEBC9JcoSocIY39DhVvOCrQqTwWYJtvd_BPF1x4q-z-x8Vnyp2pTccyzQlTc/s320/TN+to+AR+018+%2528Medium%2529.JPG" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Beautiful streets of Memphis.</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjJUBg8-MBKdBsW52tPx_-B_bx5L1jll0yEglVp2bcGqkq6visutD8kpsYxg88YcvDJQmGSfCl8DYY-3atFSCRGae9Go6cEopZfJzoAOygZvrG-4w0EYjLoeJPcVVd3ZA7YiOVegT2NtQE/s1600/TN+to+AR+022+%2528Medium%2529.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjJUBg8-MBKdBsW52tPx_-B_bx5L1jll0yEglVp2bcGqkq6visutD8kpsYxg88YcvDJQmGSfCl8DYY-3atFSCRGae9Go6cEopZfJzoAOygZvrG-4w0EYjLoeJPcVVd3ZA7YiOVegT2NtQE/s320/TN+to+AR+022+%2528Medium%2529.JPG" width="240" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Did you know that Memphis has a pyramid? We didn't. This was a surprise.</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi9_jnwQNsCq25ZmdcxhCrTUqrUlSgmyv4OPueJ1bExduYMeaevMd8YmpzrBte7LWwGKdykkVQ6Sy5qlCenpUCjqty2UEXcsaljGkUIaAyuRtBbxsG6GaPEXAyg57-KZ6uTCgQX7ZVuOPQ/s1600/TN+to+AR+023+%2528Medium%2529.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi9_jnwQNsCq25ZmdcxhCrTUqrUlSgmyv4OPueJ1bExduYMeaevMd8YmpzrBte7LWwGKdykkVQ6Sy5qlCenpUCjqty2UEXcsaljGkUIaAyuRtBbxsG6GaPEXAyg57-KZ6uTCgQX7ZVuOPQ/s320/TN+to+AR+023+%2528Medium%2529.JPG" width="240" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Our first time eating at a Sonic.</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj29hJc3PIgUJVk-Wi58uFck9GeAvUW5c4llN1AQucALtETy9BQ2q4tkl0yzf6VJb7zBDvaAMEPS7m4LuVegvJw3NVG2r0mVxV6wVLE3DOYGXulD-Iqul0GnQlef3af-g-dGLnWxM9yndM/s1600/TN+to+AR+024+%2528Medium%2529.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj29hJc3PIgUJVk-Wi58uFck9GeAvUW5c4llN1AQucALtETy9BQ2q4tkl0yzf6VJb7zBDvaAMEPS7m4LuVegvJw3NVG2r0mVxV6wVLE3DOYGXulD-Iqul0GnQlef3af-g-dGLnWxM9yndM/s320/TN+to+AR+024+%2528Medium%2529.JPG" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">We caught a downpour that lasted about 2 hours as we drove across Arkansas.</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj_dWefmgBGPGgdh4grSMHGdPwC-hbzFuj_ZbePUYuCUfYrfFOqkNHhpBk8u9uvcbSzpsgrJFvDNdsk7wooa7OgeTUs0VqDUwpZHzyZttbx629UBsyw2ZvopH4aHdVyhVR20bfdykBVZSs/s1600/TN+to+AR+025+%2528Medium%2529.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj_dWefmgBGPGgdh4grSMHGdPwC-hbzFuj_ZbePUYuCUfYrfFOqkNHhpBk8u9uvcbSzpsgrJFvDNdsk7wooa7OgeTUs0VqDUwpZHzyZttbx629UBsyw2ZvopH4aHdVyhVR20bfdykBVZSs/s320/TN+to+AR+025+%2528Medium%2529.JPG" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Just driving in the rain...</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhzXHPmcKgyrwpXJ8VUI9DCwR9XBjuIJxNy1wzkVZWKp91Nk6WuFV9Kvgz1RxPkRMSnS7GhuLjC2Fw2ML3kKRwH9VP4WVtmqrJ8o4PM6zQd_WirSnK2U8Qmkgny8nSqRNFOa6bCpf3UFAk/s1600/TN+to+AR+027+%2528Medium%2529.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhzXHPmcKgyrwpXJ8VUI9DCwR9XBjuIJxNy1wzkVZWKp91Nk6WuFV9Kvgz1RxPkRMSnS7GhuLjC2Fw2ML3kKRwH9VP4WVtmqrJ8o4PM6zQd_WirSnK2U8Qmkgny8nSqRNFOa6bCpf3UFAk/s320/TN+to+AR+027+%2528Medium%2529.JPG" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">The boys were such good little travelers.</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjNSjzavNmCgObGR9VkamthcgyzXZpQK1dBXl1waoHzQLhXg7C7qWr1STM3CrW-zYqSyMQ8SdQFS5C9qKeFOc32JqI0THo5FJWNfmIdAW13RSXxOJh78oYbS9AJCk6kol3Lm6V6WYSY2EE/s1600/TN+to+AR+031+%2528Medium%2529.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjNSjzavNmCgObGR9VkamthcgyzXZpQK1dBXl1waoHzQLhXg7C7qWr1STM3CrW-zYqSyMQ8SdQFS5C9qKeFOc32JqI0THo5FJWNfmIdAW13RSXxOJh78oYbS9AJCk6kol3Lm6V6WYSY2EE/s320/TN+to+AR+031+%2528Medium%2529.JPG" width="240" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Even Corben learned to deal with the long hours in the car.</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjG0mqAhiLLviF8eebmjAH0fLAEgEmwLKyuS8KRWI0BxlL0y3qwjGTYtffPjWIC25vo-QT8OxRcjjRzHAE8r7_QaiHhUwUKxYXgfu5jXu2qe1ofjG9ZVi2wNaJyXweVUXOWA8gWh89-F84/s1600/TN+to+AR+029+%2528Medium%2529.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjG0mqAhiLLviF8eebmjAH0fLAEgEmwLKyuS8KRWI0BxlL0y3qwjGTYtffPjWIC25vo-QT8OxRcjjRzHAE8r7_QaiHhUwUKxYXgfu5jXu2qe1ofjG9ZVi2wNaJyXweVUXOWA8gWh89-F84/s320/TN+to+AR+029+%2528Medium%2529.JPG" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Arkansas cow field.</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgbVqjyxqvaiVrYAQqhULq1IiRvIoRSCRNGGqwIw3XyWYwiEvaZiJ89DxGrLIEF01uk3Wd4YuHSZXBCq1pYC6cWQmUZ2zDnFFdxhfV8NQbzeDWb-eOPQyOeMdxH4V8GF6ZULfXRvY-vkKU/s1600/TN+to+AR+032+%2528Medium%2529.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgbVqjyxqvaiVrYAQqhULq1IiRvIoRSCRNGGqwIw3XyWYwiEvaZiJ89DxGrLIEF01uk3Wd4YuHSZXBCq1pYC6cWQmUZ2zDnFFdxhfV8NQbzeDWb-eOPQyOeMdxH4V8GF6ZULfXRvY-vkKU/s320/TN+to+AR+032+%2528Medium%2529.JPG" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">The edge of the storm! Hooray, we made it!</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg4pKgZ5VRsBNKdLMReL2rtna-7tDhtaCJHwp8UlUXhsdmOY2zLIjv9V2_DwainmoUDKvgybR0-qCFCagh3OWKLpUte57IKDxU9j6f8ftBGQTG69xGuV7Tw9Zvvt_00UlxIAIlivbkJH0g/s1600/TN+to+AR+041+%2528Medium%2529.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg4pKgZ5VRsBNKdLMReL2rtna-7tDhtaCJHwp8UlUXhsdmOY2zLIjv9V2_DwainmoUDKvgybR0-qCFCagh3OWKLpUte57IKDxU9j6f8ftBGQTG69xGuV7Tw9Zvvt_00UlxIAIlivbkJH0g/s320/TN+to+AR+041+%2528Medium%2529.JPG" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Thankfully the storm was over by the time we had to set up our camp site.</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiEtQELRx9nf-f39zKC7oSeSEAf3LECMuFRbdbNq-JbJyQSnDUUGRIxIggjA29_1xXRrn43bMeB_IPKEAcKRVOWPkGbqCWSSw3yXb7m1jmHxgW1-PyBl7r_CLXdTLpCwHR2lODa-nd0nE8/s1600/TN+to+AR+044+%2528Medium%2529.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiEtQELRx9nf-f39zKC7oSeSEAf3LECMuFRbdbNq-JbJyQSnDUUGRIxIggjA29_1xXRrn43bMeB_IPKEAcKRVOWPkGbqCWSSw3yXb7m1jmHxgW1-PyBl7r_CLXdTLpCwHR2lODa-nd0nE8/s320/TN+to+AR+044+%2528Medium%2529.JPG" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Eighth night of the journey, getting ready for a night of camping in Alma, Arkansas.</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjI1bDYnH6TH-ZDEVgk1YuYs68U9UInoCM57Wh0kU7izKRGvDqlUx9gC-e10YwShg0gUp-Lib3UIflnrklP5rNZs8IsXRRpadsC8QCT45Vd5zzJFlAMkUJyuLzl7d8MRS7p08kHeeNInjk/s1600/AR+to+NM+032+%2528Medium%2529.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjI1bDYnH6TH-ZDEVgk1YuYs68U9UInoCM57Wh0kU7izKRGvDqlUx9gC-e10YwShg0gUp-Lib3UIflnrklP5rNZs8IsXRRpadsC8QCT45Vd5zzJFlAMkUJyuLzl7d8MRS7p08kHeeNInjk/s320/AR+to+NM+032+%2528Medium%2529.JPG" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Our Arkansas camp site. Our next stop would have been Amarillo, TX but the guys who ran the Alma camp site urged us to just push through and get to Albuquerque. When we smelled Amarillo we understood why.</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgTg3Pm2cn_xh1P5y4tc0IqVaCH-9Wjdb4MWmZJCufJ1IJI2PuSbkHPz6MqTmOcAt2dHZf0IVKnv1WtUJT6CAa0D0e0FO7hpvF7kBpU39_ykkvOhc3NXqeC5ngndoEk94V7zOFGTuYUF6U/s1600/AR+to+NM+041+%2528Medium%2529.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgTg3Pm2cn_xh1P5y4tc0IqVaCH-9Wjdb4MWmZJCufJ1IJI2PuSbkHPz6MqTmOcAt2dHZf0IVKnv1WtUJT6CAa0D0e0FO7hpvF7kBpU39_ykkvOhc3NXqeC5ngndoEk94V7zOFGTuYUF6U/s320/AR+to+NM+041+%2528Medium%2529.JPG" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">About halfway across the state of Oklahoma our air conditioner suddenly stopped working. At this gas station, acting on the advice of a Subaru mechanic, The Man cut the belt on the air compressor to prevent the whole thing from seizing up. From this point on we had no air conditioning, vents, defrosters or anything.</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgs99FbU-O7ywbLYKrxQbed3_TNdn9Fs5CmE3UAljX7tYLB9znCt9-u-40O1Co1uQu-QiDa-0VPTasBfRq3W2WRN1j6wrGuGvGXlf4Y2y8ySCttdN2jya5mVCkHT_I2fqn_ot4U4a4rkpc/s1600/AR+to+NM+043+%2528Medium%2529.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgs99FbU-O7ywbLYKrxQbed3_TNdn9Fs5CmE3UAljX7tYLB9znCt9-u-40O1Co1uQu-QiDa-0VPTasBfRq3W2WRN1j6wrGuGvGXlf4Y2y8ySCttdN2jya5mVCkHT_I2fqn_ot4U4a4rkpc/s320/AR+to+NM+043+%2528Medium%2529.JPG" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">... and we're getting ready to drive into a storm, as it's getting dark, as we have no air or defrosters for the windows. <br />
Fun times.</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhIqQdKylz5QKbfPSQGo6NITQW9SgDk5LpuX0pV77SdQHTKlTORZF3DOBBqlN84gG1-DacWVOcVTSYrRSuFibZAtrSngEjOUTxZ7sgG27hvXQK2EF3vJIzIW3gVxtpyAb3Xq4K7KS_Jbyw/s1600/185322_1887747075109_1284406681_31604247_8067051_n.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="256" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhIqQdKylz5QKbfPSQGo6NITQW9SgDk5LpuX0pV77SdQHTKlTORZF3DOBBqlN84gG1-DacWVOcVTSYrRSuFibZAtrSngEjOUTxZ7sgG27hvXQK2EF3vJIzIW3gVxtpyAb3Xq4K7KS_Jbyw/s320/185322_1887747075109_1284406681_31604247_8067051_n.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Ninth night of the trip, somewhere in the Texas panhandle. The poor kids were not happy campers that night.</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi-V0_j3aVT3LPB2EEnTWTu6Qxyjkool5uPOnc7zn4smPX-H_sreXMv_uY-vFd1L4W35V3ywVfTRgdN8zzLgyBP0v2hH0U0-0JgmkHIoT3o5aG3x9lcwzECzNPuVhE0h7-ZkwkEhhAid4c/s1600/294104_1887747955131_1284406681_31604248_657096_n.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="256" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi-V0_j3aVT3LPB2EEnTWTu6Qxyjkool5uPOnc7zn4smPX-H_sreXMv_uY-vFd1L4W35V3ywVfTRgdN8zzLgyBP0v2hH0U0-0JgmkHIoT3o5aG3x9lcwzECzNPuVhE0h7-ZkwkEhhAid4c/s320/294104_1887747955131_1284406681_31604248_657096_n.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Driving through the night across the Texas panhandle and New Mexico.</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi2aEOAvJPtR43tCKCI3HOdVPZFmhCYPCUdNgS-I6H7Js0Bv571aVT6eDlupOMc2rjnxj88-nPZn2uHrhvByVuaYa0jtYFVWS1MT1slakrqnPZbJoC_Tl0qjao4VsoO5A-KtdDB6FGlB_I/s1600/AR+to+NM+048+%2528Medium%2529.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi2aEOAvJPtR43tCKCI3HOdVPZFmhCYPCUdNgS-I6H7Js0Bv571aVT6eDlupOMc2rjnxj88-nPZn2uHrhvByVuaYa0jtYFVWS1MT1slakrqnPZbJoC_Tl0qjao4VsoO5A-KtdDB6FGlB_I/s320/AR+to+NM+048+%2528Medium%2529.JPG" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">We decided that after our harrowing ordeal driving straight through from Arkansas to Albuquerque, we'd stay an extra night with our dear friends Staci and August and their family. The kids welcomed the break.</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEicRA6LkzAEW4paL0WfqfTiCuMr0OS1JTLzUshT-KVJ87BhzK2MU0yPentYJRsSnG-f3BtgU5j8CKCpbeXYTVVWYQ4IKn5KxQABGfKfjd_OyI5xLlBjsVZlj4PKgVCXK6ZdCqTZBY8ZrCI/s1600/004+%2528Medium%2529.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; display: inline !important; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEicRA6LkzAEW4paL0WfqfTiCuMr0OS1JTLzUshT-KVJ87BhzK2MU0yPentYJRsSnG-f3BtgU5j8CKCpbeXYTVVWYQ4IKn5KxQABGfKfjd_OyI5xLlBjsVZlj4PKgVCXK6ZdCqTZBY8ZrCI/s320/004+%2528Medium%2529.JPG" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Play date for moms, too! Here are some moms I've had the pleasure of knowing for a long time and become very close friends with. Staci, Melanie, me, and Leah.</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgZkvaKJEzsjFP9zrThgWSpBrkkexN6eQfjLi9wwEB0E-8M4K4Lo14L1yXnzVD79kDiqUEBeseHLmM1WrCe9ASrGYjoisl6lX1cbPli7lNYOHY4aRQP-f1QtJ_fCDQpysJjk4tzFKV4-_o/s1600/008+%2528Medium%2529.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgZkvaKJEzsjFP9zrThgWSpBrkkexN6eQfjLi9wwEB0E-8M4K4Lo14L1yXnzVD79kDiqUEBeseHLmM1WrCe9ASrGYjoisl6lX1cbPli7lNYOHY4aRQP-f1QtJ_fCDQpysJjk4tzFKV4-_o/s320/008+%2528Medium%2529.JPG" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">The rain followed us to Albuquerque but it didn't stop the kids from playing outside.</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiNwG353MsUEzPobZtz3w2-uyzotFXZUwoBLkaZxorefIkDljlDLGS7OSQWUYOhoUW9MAM4XdyKzGFLfLfWzaQ5DWe8-wnxVIw5m1CidnNVi0_jtWcG2o_M4TG1iDIf9Wv2Y8tatTAhQyU/s1600/012+%2528Medium%2529.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiNwG353MsUEzPobZtz3w2-uyzotFXZUwoBLkaZxorefIkDljlDLGS7OSQWUYOhoUW9MAM4XdyKzGFLfLfWzaQ5DWe8-wnxVIw5m1CidnNVi0_jtWcG2o_M4TG1iDIf9Wv2Y8tatTAhQyU/s320/012+%2528Medium%2529.JPG" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">A pizza feast on the tenth night of the trip, including some dairy free and some gluten free. We are a diverse bunch of people.</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhMCrusVLFUvhWX7ZMHQLTxOWpNq57wfqtXiVv6FXbRjf71s14zDZ573Xra6KGosUx7FXl16nhDsArhoQeMsSZNmFMZNM4Rc0wzagaBKBzsTcxkrcliZQr46bDVxH_3zdAHcKQGOeRO2zY/s1600/006+%2528Medium%2529.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhMCrusVLFUvhWX7ZMHQLTxOWpNq57wfqtXiVv6FXbRjf71s14zDZ573Xra6KGosUx7FXl16nhDsArhoQeMsSZNmFMZNM4Rc0wzagaBKBzsTcxkrcliZQr46bDVxH_3zdAHcKQGOeRO2zY/s320/006+%2528Medium%2529.JPG" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Play date for Daddies, too!</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEisxqKiFgh0mpWA8EFnXRSdDmo7CLfcQ8BXXmzniWSM66aHPnolrGUIiVvSN3U3SP5lwAMthOOLHZy0MlkafngWEnLiGo0XUbUWSGGEPOYV3C0sGe_15Sb-_6Rm200D7ayI1GY4nsH98vY/s1600/011+%2528Medium%2529.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEisxqKiFgh0mpWA8EFnXRSdDmo7CLfcQ8BXXmzniWSM66aHPnolrGUIiVvSN3U3SP5lwAMthOOLHZy0MlkafngWEnLiGo0XUbUWSGGEPOYV3C0sGe_15Sb-_6Rm200D7ayI1GY4nsH98vY/s320/011+%2528Medium%2529.JPG" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">The weather looked more promising as we headed out, from Albuquerque headed towards Phoenix, Arizona.</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg50cDkEi1DC7bMo9QhkLWJ-v3daVjoYllokKJjzGNb8dFd2IC3T3gSF2lTGg11keM5KmIYFQNmRnRhTjOIRE1SsrNulzAfjvgFjxAJekSg9cCc_jC4fzPOakcVrb-PdtTsIALK4ZOauYg/s1600/016+%2528Medium%2529.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg50cDkEi1DC7bMo9QhkLWJ-v3daVjoYllokKJjzGNb8dFd2IC3T3gSF2lTGg11keM5KmIYFQNmRnRhTjOIRE1SsrNulzAfjvgFjxAJekSg9cCc_jC4fzPOakcVrb-PdtTsIALK4ZOauYg/s320/016+%2528Medium%2529.JPG" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Beautiful desert formations.</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgSU89WtDFlkoRLVY9x_ccW2GGS0pXrqZQ3McV_4GFUKMbbcQXBw0uH5JYt6ehyphenhyphenH-sfMlj97W5i-vdGknb5eaE-XC6S2eLeUn9Mdxi5SvOxSfj028rOKSaVX3LsJDltUpjbKl_u0Tjz4WA/s1600/035+%2528Medium%2529.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgSU89WtDFlkoRLVY9x_ccW2GGS0pXrqZQ3McV_4GFUKMbbcQXBw0uH5JYt6ehyphenhyphenH-sfMlj97W5i-vdGknb5eaE-XC6S2eLeUn9Mdxi5SvOxSfj028rOKSaVX3LsJDltUpjbKl_u0Tjz4WA/s320/035+%2528Medium%2529.JPG" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">One of the many little communities in the desert.</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhb69FUs-EeTKWGnL9HrDQE8GD-j478sziflb3H7gmGM6-_Eizn6ULRIzC3yFAdg5cQrL_9rMJieROo9KuSBUSUubrkHIFcm_oHP8I0cU2rB5IIfvKJDVPrptIpe7b_RI5VyEp8HFCvlSk/s1600/063+%2528Medium%2529.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhb69FUs-EeTKWGnL9HrDQE8GD-j478sziflb3H7gmGM6-_Eizn6ULRIzC3yFAdg5cQrL_9rMJieROo9KuSBUSUubrkHIFcm_oHP8I0cU2rB5IIfvKJDVPrptIpe7b_RI5VyEp8HFCvlSk/s320/063+%2528Medium%2529.JPG" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">The Man and I are absolutely in love with the dramatic rock formations in that part of the country.</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi-cmUpECT5fJa4PLGfn9WfuaPLFCO3o9d2JkblWOZh-nbJvCny74I58pn22INzL_aJjwt5iajE7ruMdLKZWwOiX-VGbC5tXPb3_hnUjXc2pCx6Q0EmJu0tH01_OlDB8YCjEMjae0QeLGU/s1600/029+%2528Medium%2529.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi-cmUpECT5fJa4PLGfn9WfuaPLFCO3o9d2JkblWOZh-nbJvCny74I58pn22INzL_aJjwt5iajE7ruMdLKZWwOiX-VGbC5tXPb3_hnUjXc2pCx6Q0EmJu0tH01_OlDB8YCjEMjae0QeLGU/s320/029+%2528Medium%2529.JPG" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">The landscape is divided by long, straight stretches of rail, and freight trains that can be hundreds of cars long.</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjMKbpcSt-8vdGuar0XevHxHxElDhFG2MDXMzY3X8xWd71STY-G3GFneeO4T__CSXvvh3qqZyaeEUHE9ItjwOsNWkTof_7D5x6l7dtFpezOTRs2HfJP7FkXOMn1CkbWuUAvS5SkMxM00f0/s1600/041+%2528Medium%2529.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjMKbpcSt-8vdGuar0XevHxHxElDhFG2MDXMzY3X8xWd71STY-G3GFneeO4T__CSXvvh3qqZyaeEUHE9ItjwOsNWkTof_7D5x6l7dtFpezOTRs2HfJP7FkXOMn1CkbWuUAvS5SkMxM00f0/s320/041+%2528Medium%2529.JPG" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">One of the many freight trains chugging across the desert.</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiE6ZtvTKM60264uOrzNvgdPsWW-peS4onn_wrEmAI1djIYeiSfiSillvetUvJvrITdl1cSFPZh1MBZtPt8u6KIds_5PYqS1s0uioWPEitjgAdC3RFsqSTfDqccMrLYZFdqy8QmRdFi5d4/s1600/032+%2528Medium%2529.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiE6ZtvTKM60264uOrzNvgdPsWW-peS4onn_wrEmAI1djIYeiSfiSillvetUvJvrITdl1cSFPZh1MBZtPt8u6KIds_5PYqS1s0uioWPEitjgAdC3RFsqSTfDqccMrLYZFdqy8QmRdFi5d4/s320/032+%2528Medium%2529.JPG" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Gorgeous desert mountain scenery.</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEilN8pprNr78HmwSpQjP1phEJ2YGfo7j3Lbh5MaQ_RiB2DyLqimc2wPcDp20JKSrMuBnqZ96GQ3rj7lS8xtXpWYbQcKWM8h8ucpxbbGjyBvCVoHPflTct9fA10jvX_AC8DV0JWprtB5p94/s1600/069+%2528Medium%2529.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEilN8pprNr78HmwSpQjP1phEJ2YGfo7j3Lbh5MaQ_RiB2DyLqimc2wPcDp20JKSrMuBnqZ96GQ3rj7lS8xtXpWYbQcKWM8h8ucpxbbGjyBvCVoHPflTct9fA10jvX_AC8DV0JWprtB5p94/s320/069+%2528Medium%2529.JPG" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Here's another way to get to the Grand Canyon, where we vacationed earlier in the year!</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhuXresccGkQ981gj_xTN4ZNsE7zNZY7cCX_WCVVnFDzC795e_jPUm8RtTTxYvCvSjwJvX05KGZTLComWNQWJKSzBFiIkVP1P-YHEzSdoQkWJ81WX5m_9aw44ZQPsu-WKtiHdSi0rZc72Y/s1600/073+%2528Medium%2529.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhuXresccGkQ981gj_xTN4ZNsE7zNZY7cCX_WCVVnFDzC795e_jPUm8RtTTxYvCvSjwJvX05KGZTLComWNQWJKSzBFiIkVP1P-YHEzSdoQkWJ81WX5m_9aw44ZQPsu-WKtiHdSi0rZc72Y/s320/073+%2528Medium%2529.JPG" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Sun is getting ready to set on Arizona. It turned out to be a very long night of running out of oil on the side of a mountain, but we all made it out in the end.</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiYeeMsupPrFN4VXkOcfmrnlLtW419KKW8G593QcDH4_iOSHgHk04WzMOTcy7msG-XJEuEC3SdT-zNvgWmdDmYXMnqRfUGnQnSK4XgpRe3bRPxUt9qdJWTGnqJSIUsRltGP3swJQ0_Q4G4/s1600/001+%2528Medium%2529.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiYeeMsupPrFN4VXkOcfmrnlLtW419KKW8G593QcDH4_iOSHgHk04WzMOTcy7msG-XJEuEC3SdT-zNvgWmdDmYXMnqRfUGnQnSK4XgpRe3bRPxUt9qdJWTGnqJSIUsRltGP3swJQ0_Q4G4/s320/001+%2528Medium%2529.JPG" width="240" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">We ended up making it to Phoenix at about one am on the eleventh night of the trip. </td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhZacnBB1Wct7PxkvDSWTsfJJdHf98aJ97ZFEa_JdSiPyT7fB-IWyVWY-p0qckks8YSvNf6V7epXenQmy7MEtNtGsYSJooUJaONoBZZhV8k_e3kx43r-jQ1rx8XvXI_v8qnmg3njx6AQfo/s1600/003+%2528Medium%2529.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhZacnBB1Wct7PxkvDSWTsfJJdHf98aJ97ZFEa_JdSiPyT7fB-IWyVWY-p0qckks8YSvNf6V7epXenQmy7MEtNtGsYSJooUJaONoBZZhV8k_e3kx43r-jQ1rx8XvXI_v8qnmg3njx6AQfo/s320/003+%2528Medium%2529.JPG" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">On the last morning of our trip, ready to leave Tessa's apartment at about 8 am after a very late night.</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgVMpk8cgfcajCeHW0PZ9LF9Nf24S6BfRPny7noRPbtEWXr8MKakp_noLUcWW1X9nbFOM78qImtLwUvyDERAfi4U_LgPko_SMlPmWMF87HTXV8WjyxBKA8Zi-AAoenvixtQYB755M74UuM/s1600/018+%2528Medium%2529.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgVMpk8cgfcajCeHW0PZ9LF9Nf24S6BfRPny7noRPbtEWXr8MKakp_noLUcWW1X9nbFOM78qImtLwUvyDERAfi4U_LgPko_SMlPmWMF87HTXV8WjyxBKA8Zi-AAoenvixtQYB755M74UuM/s320/018+%2528Medium%2529.JPG" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">California-bound!</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiMswO97ALhEEb36Y0q6ytLBB8DRhxGt0gnzCdR015dsnPc8moNGRAdQ-f61lpLbNEG4JX5ZF9jT-jG17mUVu5NEB8QsE0dZccHBLTATHG5rCYnpbNytlNnhrac3Y2BXYQ5AER52fPXLEg/s1600/298875_1893484978553_1284406681_31613311_4408938_n.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="256" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiMswO97ALhEEb36Y0q6ytLBB8DRhxGt0gnzCdR015dsnPc8moNGRAdQ-f61lpLbNEG4JX5ZF9jT-jG17mUVu5NEB8QsE0dZccHBLTATHG5rCYnpbNytlNnhrac3Y2BXYQ5AER52fPXLEg/s320/298875_1893484978553_1284406681_31613311_4408938_n.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Very exciting - the scenery starting to change! We're in California! At this point we were really excited and making a lot more videos than still pictures.</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEidlmZLfM2UFiNYGdu5mF9Tokz_aKBLXSenNgxr9rtIS4U___9ELp3giK7p3Nn1KwMgOjQWpUeslejDoaIqG83R3DLkEOpHd5R7vpqROPJzyJMDxKyO7Nd3Sg3FN2lTIiNEcdybMFuEylQ/s1600/294852_1893987391113_1284406681_31614030_4308964_n.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="256" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEidlmZLfM2UFiNYGdu5mF9Tokz_aKBLXSenNgxr9rtIS4U___9ELp3giK7p3Nn1KwMgOjQWpUeslejDoaIqG83R3DLkEOpHd5R7vpqROPJzyJMDxKyO7Nd3Sg3FN2lTIiNEcdybMFuEylQ/s320/294852_1893987391113_1284406681_31614030_4308964_n.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Stinky, grimy, happy, exhausted little boys asleep in their new bedroom after 12 very long days. We made it home at about 6 pm, signed our lease, and had everything moved into our new apartment by about 10:30 pm.</td></tr>
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<br /></div>Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2919208035129629930.post-77927479153441201822012-01-05T08:27:00.000-08:002012-01-05T19:36:39.402-08:00"I WAS JUST WHISPERING THIS QUIETLY."There's nothing like thinking I've gotten off easy with a quick bedtime for the kids, when I quietly slide off the bed where BooBoo is sleeping quietly, and...<br />
<br />
CRUNCHCRUNCHCRUNCHCRUNCHCRUNCH!! goes the giant paper bag that has mysteriously moved all the way from the living room to the floor right next to BooBoo's bed. It just gets worse - everywhere I step to get away from it, it's still there. I step backwards and catch myself abruptly with a quick jolt of my lower back as my foot finds the stray chess piece, the single piece that didn't make it back into the box. How does a bedroom that's actually pretty clean and tidy develop such a disaster zone at the foot of the very bed I need to sneak out of most quietly? The whole time I'm crashing and crunching around on this darn paper bag I'm vaguely aware of Bug's dramatic stage whisper, although of course I can't understand a word he's saying.<br />
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<br />
After several loud and painful seconds of paper bag crunching I leap off of it without causing myself too much harm, and Bug is still whispering away too me, with his stage whisper becoming louder. "Sssshhhh!" I said. BooBoo had stirred during the paper bag episode, but he was now miraculously lying still. I leaned towards Bug. "What did you say?"<br />
<br />
"I WAS JUST WHISPERING THIS QUIETLY," he whisper-yelled into my face, in that hilariously unaware-of-personal-space way that 5 year olds have, over my shushes.<br />
<br />
"But what were you whispering to me? What do you need to tell me?"<br />
<br />
"I WAS JUST TELLING YOU THAT I WAS WHISPERING THIS QUIETLY."<br />
<br />
*facepalm*<br />
<br />
"Okay, pumpkin. Is there anything else you need to tell me?"<br />
<br />
"NO!" If someone ever needs a child to sit on a stage and whisper loudly enough for the back row to hear clearly, Bug is their guy.<br />
<br />
"Good night, pumpkin."<br />
<br />
"GOOD NIGHT, MAMA."<br />
<br />
I stood up, turned around to tip-toe to the door... and BooBoo suddenly woke up and asked to nurse on the other side, the side I hadn't nursed him on because he'd fallen asleep so quickly in our "quick and easy" bedtime. At least the stupid paper bag is out of the way now, I thought, as I slid back into the bed next to him.Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0