tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-19895905096486106882024-03-05T07:43:56.838-06:00Life's a PeachYoung family making our stand in the Peach Capital of Texas.Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05407825751018840480noreply@blogger.comBlogger73125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1989590509648610688.post-5458956711933720352015-08-23T00:01:00.000-05:002016-10-19T17:11:54.467-05:00These Are the DaysI’ve sowed my wild oats. I’ve walked some reckless paths. I’ve trudged through some dark muck – you know, the deeper-than-your-boots
kind that fills your shoes until you’re dragging through life with what feels
like 100-pound feet. I’ve been the prodigal, sloshing with the swine one day and welcomed back to the fold with
love and forgiveness the next.
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Now, I am a wife and stay-at-home mom. According to outward
appearances, I live a very moral life. But the funny thing is I feel more
desperately in need of God’s grace now in my tame, domestic existence than I ever
did when I raucous and reckless. Simply trying to hack it as a wife and a
parent has made me more aware of the depths of my depravity that the licentious
living of my past ever did. </div>
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You see, the sins that plague me now – selfishness, anger,
pride – might not be as obvious to the people around me or considered as taboo
by the church, but they are just as dark and ugly and real as drunkenness, sexual
immorality, drugs, etc, etc, etc. Like a cloud of gnats that doggedly swarm your face, fly up your nostrils, and disturb your vision, these sins assault me daily with persistence.</div>
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Merging my life every. single. day. with a man who thinks
differently than me, does things other than <span style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">my</span>
way, and possesses his own set of needs inconveniently in competition with
mine. Spending every waking moment of my day with precious little ones looking to me,
learning from me, disobeying me when I REALLY meant it that time, and wanting my attention when I’m tired and want to be
alone. These are the realities of current life that are refining me – poking at my hidden, ugly, dark places and stirring up my gnat cloud of sinfulness.<br />
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When I loose my
patience, say something unkind to my 3-year-old daughter, and watch the tears
well up in her eyes. When things don’t go my way, land on my husband as I’m looking for someone to
blame, and see his back turn in hurt and
disappointment. Oh, there are what seem like a million opportunities every living,
breathing second of my day for my impatient attitude, my self-righteous anger,
my selfish desires, my secret, ugly wish for my OWN TIME ALONE WITH MY CELL PHONE to
rear their nasty heads. </div>
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And they do. And they cut my soul like a hot knife through butter.</div>
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Matthew 18:6 – I desperately do not want that millstone. </div>
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1 Corinthians 13:1– I desperately do not want to be that
noisy gong.</div>
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Now, <span style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-size: 14.0pt; mso-bidi-font-size: 12.0pt;">NOW</span></span>, are the days
when I really, truly see how much I need Jesus, how broken I am, and how badly I
want to be first all the time at the expense of everyone around me. This season of marriage and motherhood that is both blessed
and hard, both joyful and heavy, these are the days that I truly understand the
greatness of grace and the kindness of my savior. These are the days that I deeply
know that I NEED him. These are the days when I am desperate for him. </div>
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And, PRAISE GOD, these are the days that he is faithful. He
answers me when I cry out. He forgives me when I come to him broken, again,
over that same sin, again. He gives me JOY – the deep, deep kind – and
hope that lifts me up, sets me back on my feet and makes me beautiful again. He restores what my clumsy, ugly hands have shattered into a million little pieces and rains grace
– just buckets and buckets of it. </div>
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And just when I think the grace has run out, he showers me
again. </div>
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Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05407825751018840480noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1989590509648610688.post-50754616770478726922013-04-16T16:17:00.001-05:002013-04-16T16:33:58.921-05:00Just Between FriendsLast week, friends invited me to join them at the Just Between Friends sale, a children and maternity consignment sale in Weatherford. The JBF sales have been featured on all the major morning shows and are held across the country. The Weatherford/Aledo sale is held twice a year, in the spring and in the fall, and it's pretty big. (You can read more about the JBF concept on their <a href="http://www.jbfsale.com/default.cfm" target="_blank">website</a> and check to see if there are any locations near you.)<br />
<br />
I was pretty hesitant to go with the girls for two reasons. I went to a JBF sale in Fort Worth when I was pregnant with AG last year and was really disappointed. I had to pay $5 for parking, $5 to get into the preview sale (to be fair, there were free admission days later in the sale) and walked away empty handed. I couldn't buy any clothes because I didn't know if I was having a boy or a girl, so I was mostly in the market for large toys (exersaucers, bouncers, swings) and other large items (extra carseat bases, umbrella strollers). There were quite a few large items, but not as many as I had expected; they were not in as good a condition as I had expected, and they were priced much higher than I had anticipated. Someone heard me grumbling, and explained that a LOT of the merchandise was grabbed up during the volunteer pre-sale. It was obvious the clothes the main event. Tons of huge racks filled a pretty good size conference hall at Will Rogers Coliseum.<br />
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My friend had never been to the FW sale, but she told the word on the street was that our lil-city sale had cleaner items in better condition. Plus, I was would be able to attend free of charge as my friend's guest to the new mothers/teachers preview sale. With no money lost to parking or admission, I figured I had nothing to lose. Ailee needed some new pajamas, too.<br />
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I walked away from the sale with an Ikea bag loaded FULL of stuff. Of course, I bought everything but pajamas.<br />
<br />
The Weatherford/Aledo sale definitely featured items in better conditions than the FW sale. I'm not sure if that's because it was less picked over by volunteers or because our area is higher income. There were definitely less big items like bouncers, stroller, car seats – probably less than half of what I found at the FW sale – and they went quickly. The prices were about the same, but, again, the items were cleaner and in better shape.<br />
<br />
I still had sticker shock when I was browsing some of the Weatherford items. I saw a plastic wagon I thought might be fun for Ailee, and couldn't believe it was priced at $20. It was in good, but not like-new, condition.<br />
<br />
But I did find plenty of items I was really happy with. The catch about these sales is the items are priced higher then they would be if you were able to find them garage-sale shopping. For example, I have a Leap Frog music table that my mom scored for me at a garage sale for $8. It is in like-new condition. At a JBF sale, it would probably be priced $15 for good condition and $20 for like-new condition. The table is $35 brand new in stores. However, it could take months of consistent garage sale-ing to find a specific item like a music table, and at a JBF sale you might have three to chose from and a ton of other items to look through all in one location. So you are definitely paying for convenience.<br />
<br />
While I was there, I looked for only like-new items priced at a bargain because I just couldn't justify paying the higher price for more worn items. Thankfully, AG has been gifted an ENORMOUS amount of second hand clothes and toys in wonderful condition, so I didn't have to rely on a sale such as this to stock up on affording clothing, toys and equipment. I had the luxury of being more picky.<br />
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I also kept my iPhone handy to double-check prices and that helped me from making some poor selections out of ignorance. For example, there was a Melissa and Dough hammer and peg set at the sale. It was missing 2 pegs and the original wood hammer was replaced with a plastic hammer from another set. It was priced at $6. I found you can buy the entire set brand new for $10 online or at Toys R Us. I'd be willing to pay $6 for a good or like-new used set with all the parts, but not for a partial set when I could fork over a few more dollars for the new one.<br />
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Next, I found a Melissa and Doug car carrier toy. It was priced at $12 and was in like-new condition. That seemed pretty expensive. I looked on Amazon and found I could get a new one for $15. The one at JBF was only marked down $3, but I felt good buying it because it was like new. If I had picked up a chipped or worn one, got home and realized I could have got a new one for $3 more, I'd be annoyed.<br />
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So some iPhone Googling or a good knowledge (or former pre-school teacher friend with good knowledge!) of how much these items cost new is really helpful at sales like these. If you are fighting a crowd, grab all the items you like, then take them to a corner, sit down and sift through everything while you research on your phone. Then, return all the items that don't fit the bill.<br />
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With all that said, here are the items I took home:<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg3eYB4FtJlhUSgL9WkSjQiURSM27Ip1FboAtlpWbRUXrbZMSYOtrzZ7EbWBPwSJCS-N8LPGSRNXQnSucg58q_FzS8vz7p2JNtpxVldvGIhyd1fsnqJbOLpXG116BHipenahXPNC7wLb50/s1600/DSC_0897.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg3eYB4FtJlhUSgL9WkSjQiURSM27Ip1FboAtlpWbRUXrbZMSYOtrzZ7EbWBPwSJCS-N8LPGSRNXQnSucg58q_FzS8vz7p2JNtpxVldvGIhyd1fsnqJbOLpXG116BHipenahXPNC7wLb50/s400/DSC_0897.JPG" width="267" /></a></div>
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<b>Old Navy Stars & Stripes Swimsuit</b></div>
Condition: Very good (a tiny bit of pilling on the crotch area)<br />
JBF Price: $2<br />
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<b>Smocked Dress</b><br />
Condition: Very good<b> </b>(there is a teeny, tiny miniscule yellowish dot)<br />
JBF Price: $3 (I was so happy about this one. Smocked items are classics. They're still super in style and they are really expensive!)<br />
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<b>Carter's Rain Coat</b><br />
Condition: Like new<br />
JBF Price: $5 (This was pretty expensive to me, but it looked like it had never been worn. Another mom at the sale said her daughter got TONS of mileage out of her raincoat. This coat is sized 18-24 months.)<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjw8pgsJVauuAvsYle20BuQa2BN4F-5b8rzM7HhOIOBbyib2-7wTijZMRqP1Ztl3zFAkzp1Mw95Ip3ogCrhovqMRDxpcY3j7OES7M8pP_Vw9vXqmTz1Rxb6rqw9UWKdeeSFqQiYU3DeVcU/s1600/DSC_0905.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjw8pgsJVauuAvsYle20BuQa2BN4F-5b8rzM7HhOIOBbyib2-7wTijZMRqP1Ztl3zFAkzp1Mw95Ip3ogCrhovqMRDxpcY3j7OES7M8pP_Vw9vXqmTz1Rxb6rqw9UWKdeeSFqQiYU3DeVcU/s400/DSC_0905.JPG" width="267" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">You paid how much!? No way!</td></tr>
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<b>Bummis Super Whisper Wrap Cloth Diaper Cover </b><br />
Condition: New with tags<br />
JBF Price: $3<br />
This was a steal! New in stores or online these covers are $12-13. This is a size small so it will be for Baby No. 2 (God willing)<br />
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<b>KidKraft Bead Maze</b><br />
Condition: Like New<br />
JBF Price: $6<br />
I know you're thinking that this maze doesn't look "like new." Well, it did when I bought it. That part on the base where the veneer is ripped off happened when I removed the JBF sticker from the toy. Put stickers on the bottom, people! Still, this toy is $20-$25 new online so I was pretty happy.<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgeIxJNq4wD9ZU04aqzVxgpQKT5xproyfxbseVt3ouQamfXiVLWWiZcjhdXgoOMslJf0Tv5KuEQlBvYlX3CNJfSSTYxGge9gTAertPXgKbCiiJj7OYiOllDhf43gDhxvGvgOjMFjZul6qw/s1600/DSC_0915.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgeIxJNq4wD9ZU04aqzVxgpQKT5xproyfxbseVt3ouQamfXiVLWWiZcjhdXgoOMslJf0Tv5KuEQlBvYlX3CNJfSSTYxGge9gTAertPXgKbCiiJj7OYiOllDhf43gDhxvGvgOjMFjZul6qw/s400/DSC_0915.JPG" width="267" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Just like Mommy, she missed the nail!</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi41ZIXx5fZRruXP535Lv4NjHzfCREsN3kmuDfBTeT0dRoUTcxC12eAEbg0K7hHF7wERc27uatgzaCGCDpVKfLWaq3elP6EGec9DzMN0W09RxfGW-cgXXeENrDftwQ5_KU-KOGMrptngwg/s1600/DSC_0918.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi41ZIXx5fZRruXP535Lv4NjHzfCREsN3kmuDfBTeT0dRoUTcxC12eAEbg0K7hHF7wERc27uatgzaCGCDpVKfLWaq3elP6EGec9DzMN0W09RxfGW-cgXXeENrDftwQ5_KU-KOGMrptngwg/s400/DSC_0918.JPG" width="267" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Hammering your foot is fun, too.</td></tr>
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<b>Playskool Poundin' Nails </b>(the spelling "Playskool" really irks me!)<br />
Condition: Very good (I would say like new except there is one part where the paint is rubbed off the nail character's eyebrow)<br />
JBF Price: $5<br />
This is $13 new on Amazon. Not my best deal but still happy with it. Ailee has enjoyed it. I was looking for a wooden hammer and peg set like I had when I was little. I'll keep looking!<br />
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<b>Melissa & Doug Car Carrier</b><br />
Condition: Like new (Ailee has already put a little wear on this one! She loves the little cars.)<b> </b><br />
JBF Price: $12<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg5pKe8eZPuSYCANgEsFTgMuaBVJD-9LBZzGluLVvixBvH4KdZRkMoWYyHVOxWq-TwqBY6iHXwDylQgh7oJodNcXdKqlUn131M5PMqCo5jNiCXPgcIqO2m2iL5h-V4SG6cJMXk6HRfqjjs/s1600/DSC_0935.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="267" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg5pKe8eZPuSYCANgEsFTgMuaBVJD-9LBZzGluLVvixBvH4KdZRkMoWYyHVOxWq-TwqBY6iHXwDylQgh7oJodNcXdKqlUn131M5PMqCo5jNiCXPgcIqO2m2iL5h-V4SG6cJMXk6HRfqjjs/s400/DSC_0935.JPG" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Oops, ropes are confusing.</td></tr>
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<b>Pull-Along Wooden Train With Stacking Block</b>s<br />
Condition: Like new<br />
JBF Price: $5<br />
This was my favorite find! This toy is so cool and of such good quality. I found similar ones online for $35-40<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgCj9jkbQIj9HtWPGvlSUC49zjzbk299Reff_3wro8DdJDBEYUzd4ezUbeqLOVP_tz2lEzg7Jb5tfqId-H05rqaa6La6nDwf8dqu1xYAl1yJqpZTuQi_icZ8rvkunS6A9xn5FBS35UXGyY/s1600/DSC_0896.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="267" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgCj9jkbQIj9HtWPGvlSUC49zjzbk299Reff_3wro8DdJDBEYUzd4ezUbeqLOVP_tz2lEzg7Jb5tfqId-H05rqaa6La6nDwf8dqu1xYAl1yJqpZTuQi_icZ8rvkunS6A9xn5FBS35UXGyY/s400/DSC_0896.JPG" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">AG with some of her spoils</td></tr>
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<br />Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05407825751018840480noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1989590509648610688.post-49481118729404390222013-04-09T18:15:00.003-05:002013-04-09T23:28:32.064-05:00Birth Story - Part ThreeThe last installment of this story left me begging for an epidural and my husband insisting that it was not what I truly wanted and that I should NOT get one.<br />
<br />
Not. A. Pretty. Picture.<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjDdLj3h0x6ETzirEoBY-LnQS_yfm1JCWlGn_O2tSH_SjPgsyGUfZeGfxjSnXPFKgByY8ksWjjZez2dF6T-Lx0jOZS0nsUYTpWioip70-aPwsRFSEXdFN5_kLfY9xsXZyCVf7I8L0k0ctM/s1600/_DSC0928.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="425" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjDdLj3h0x6ETzirEoBY-LnQS_yfm1JCWlGn_O2tSH_SjPgsyGUfZeGfxjSnXPFKgByY8ksWjjZez2dF6T-Lx0jOZS0nsUYTpWioip70-aPwsRFSEXdFN5_kLfY9xsXZyCVf7I8L0k0ctM/s640/_DSC0928.JPG" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">This IS a pretty picture, though. Tanner and I at the hospital after I got my epidural and set up camp in the hospital bed.</td></tr>
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In my heart, I really did not want an epidural – for lots of reasons, some right and some wrong. I believed and still believe in all the healthy, value-driven reasons that initially steered me against an epidural, and someday when I have more time and energy, I'll go into my whole reasoning behind pursuing natural childbirth. All those reasons gave me pause as I was considering an epidural, but to be honest, in that moment of decision, all those good reasons shrunk in their significance compared to a looming, shadowy, yucky reason. THAT reason gave me the greatest pause before I chose to jump off the diving board and into the deep end of the epidural pool. <br />
<br />
I did not want all <i>those</i> people (Yes, if you were one of <i>them</i>, you now know I thought you were ANNOYING) who, when I told them I was planning a natural birth, laughed in my faced and told me, " Ooookaaaay, whatever! You'll be <i>begging</i> for an epidural when the time comes," to be right. I wanted to prove them wrong. I wanted to be right. I wanted to be stronger. This ugly reason can be summed up as PRIDE.<br />
<br />
But all the yield signs, good and bad, were blown over and flattened in the tornado of fear, pain and fatigue swirling around me. I chose an epidural.<br />
<br />
Despite wanting the opposite, I think everything leading up to that point pointed me toward that outcome. Despite going through the wonderful Harris Midwifes, I believe the hospital setting and protocol encouraged an induction and epidural (and for some people, c-sections).<br />
<br />
Also...<br />
<br />
Despite having a several crisp white pages of paper filled with Bible verses stapled together and tucked into my birthing folder and a playlist of inspiring Christian songs running on loop in the hospital room, I had not truly dedicated the birth of my child to God's glory. The time before the birth was actually a very spiritually dry season for me. During my pregnancy, I did not prepare for the path ahead of me with prayer. I did not arm myself with scripture. Despite my convictions that a birth should be a time to glorify God through surrender and worship and trust and faith, I spent most of my time during pregnancy worshiping at the altar of <i>knowledge. </i>I researched and championed every natural, healthful philosophy on childbirth. Those mindsets and methods are healthy and wonderful and practical, but must be paired with a desire to glorify God. In and of themselves, they are not saviors. I did not trust my God to get me through the birth. I did not lean on Him through earnest prayer and worship and mediation. I placed all of my trust and faith in my own plans and knowledge. When that wavered (and ultimately failed), all I had left were fear and doubt. I needed a champion, and it wasn't a philosophy or a method or a plan. It was my Savior and He was there all along! <br />
<br />
Anyway, that's a lot of reflection. Sorry, I've had 10 months to think about everything. I'll wrap up the meat and bones of the story so those who care can know what all happened. <br />
<br />
So the decision was made, and although I ended up paying the anesthesiologist a bajillion million dollars, I think it was actually the doctor's nurse or assistant or someone else that came in with the big needle. I could be wrong. When she arrived, a mix of emotions were stirring and bubbling inside me: fear and disappointment, but also relief. The woman was very stern and emotionless. I felt like screaming at her, "Don't you know I've been trying to birth this child for over a day!!!" In hindsight I know she wasn't there to be an emotional cheerleader, but I guess I was just hoping people with pompoms and megaphones would come out of the woodwork at ever turn.<br />
<br />
I was commanded to stay completely still while they put the needle in my back. This was a puzzling command to me, as every contraction made me contort and squirm and cry and scream. And they wanted me to be still for like 10 minutes! While the needle was in me, I had a very strong contraction and flinched. The woman scolded me mercilessly and told me how dangerous that was and that I pretty much could have killed myself and everyone in the room... I kept thinking, <i>Am I the only wimp who couldn't stay still for this!? </i>Candice grabbed my hands and lovingly coached me through the next contraction. I kept still that time.<br />
<br />
When things started to get numb enough, I got my catheter. A lovely contraption that would leave me with months worth of UTI's and other "womanly" infections.<br />
<br />
I labored for a while with the epidural, and then I fell asleep. When I woke up 2-hour nap, I had gone from 2 cm to 9 cm. Everyone was in shock it seemed. Candice said it would be soon, and then told me she had to leave. Her shift was over! I was disappointed and so was she. Although I'm sure she was glad to go home, she had put in a lot of work not to see the end result! The next midwife on call was Summer. I was excited to see her. She is a wonderful woman!<br />
<br />
I got some more medicine when I woke up, labored for about an hour and then started to feel the urge to push. I don’t know how I knew, it was just one of those
instinctual things that I could feel even with the epidural. Pushing was my
favorite part because (at least according to Summer) I was doing a great job!
She said I was making quick progress, and for the first time, I felt like my
body was doing something right. It was a cool feeling (obviously only because I had the
epidural) to feel all the pressure and feel the baby’s head moving. Several
times I was able to reach down and touch the squishy head.
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Tanner was by my side
and my sister, Kathleen, had come in the room too at this point to take pictures. I pushed for about 20 minutes and the baby was making
its way quickly, but the meconium fluid was getting darker, and I think that was
worrying Summer. She said, "This baby has a big head, and you have a small
opening. [DUH!!!] If you don’t get her out on this next push, I think I am going to have
to cut you.” </div>
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That was the last straw! All my plans had gone out the window, and
I thought, <i>I’m not going to get an episiotomy, too!</i> (Another intervention I had been hoping to avoid.) I pushed as hard as I could
on that next contraction, and the baby came out screaming. The NICU people were supposed to be there (hospital policy) because of the presence of the meconium fluid, but they were
not there yet so Summer had to start suctioning the fluid out of the baby's mouth so it wouldn’t go in her lungs. I was watching all this kind of in a daze. After she had suctioned her, Summer asked Tanner if he wanted to make THE announcement. He must have been in a bit of a daze too because he told Summer to do it, and she announced, “It’s a girl!” Ten months of suspense ended!</div>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjwy8NGK9kbdbjjO1qUrp_6mnuEya6yWYvKoWhVvia11h5G4HOZkzKi-s29MZY84hzto_XSTyNihvwWzcgo4IgxxhuQKabu5hSyC_poOi4shHoZHr3NCQGxF5XNxgmBhPkmd2Zjo5Ui5hg/s1600/_DSC0938.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="425" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjwy8NGK9kbdbjjO1qUrp_6mnuEya6yWYvKoWhVvia11h5G4HOZkzKi-s29MZY84hzto_XSTyNihvwWzcgo4IgxxhuQKabu5hSyC_poOi4shHoZHr3NCQGxF5XNxgmBhPkmd2Zjo5Ui5hg/s640/_DSC0938.JPG" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Blurry, but I think this is the moment I first saw my baby!</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg6IF-DykJDJdOCCDL9miFxYznvWSwrWlpJF5-z5u7R9xJezeuAsycsE1-uoL5mtxc1RCp_hLoOjtSWk5PQldEqTLht58tXOd2munP1fgV5V5sFG47rTUP45ZNZKgeZYWoc-nPix5X84tg/s1600/_DSC0941.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="426" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg6IF-DykJDJdOCCDL9miFxYznvWSwrWlpJF5-z5u7R9xJezeuAsycsE1-uoL5mtxc1RCp_hLoOjtSWk5PQldEqTLht58tXOd2munP1fgV5V5sFG47rTUP45ZNZKgeZYWoc-nPix5X84tg/s640/_DSC0941.JPG" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Ailee Grace is born!</td></tr>
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The NICU people arrived and whisked the baby away to the corner of the room. (Hospital policy.) They did some more suctioning
and measured some things and did other stuff, not sure what. Tanner would know more about this part. I'll ask him someday. I was sad I couldn’t do skin-to-skin immediately with my baby. I had
torn quite a bit and was bleeding a lot, so Summer was working quickly to get me
sewn up as all the other hullabaloo was taking place. It's all a blur in my mind. It took about half an hour to sew me up. I lost about 16 oz of blood. I
also had a fever, which made them worry about infection. Ailee had a fever
too but it went away quickly so they assumed it was from me and didn’t make her
go to NICU. </div>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEihdDqLYa2t8lp10BsU03VJuSje8jaHrami0q7sC3iNNzkNg00_ANuHPinganWtSXBkLzoVO9WF5u8L4Nt6-Nie2g4vg9V8GRFSaGkme3Pst2z65hougFxE5asGph0KgjkxRxrMma7WoG8/s1600/_DSC0943.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="426" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEihdDqLYa2t8lp10BsU03VJuSje8jaHrami0q7sC3iNNzkNg00_ANuHPinganWtSXBkLzoVO9WF5u8L4Nt6-Nie2g4vg9V8GRFSaGkme3Pst2z65hougFxE5asGph0KgjkxRxrMma7WoG8/s640/_DSC0943.JPG" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">The NICU people doing their "thing" while protective Papa looks on</td><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><br /></td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj8W9IS99UbK6giD_27W29cZ1jIRYBc3r1MZlTgdupgbivaaMwf0PhUJCX9CgGGbw1mIlXTadlv9kYVAY3ov_VxTMksHcaphNpkMzAFWnNuQPlsx9PA6hpuP287Kxfvhqaew_azXec1j7E/s1600/_DSC0956.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="426" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj8W9IS99UbK6giD_27W29cZ1jIRYBc3r1MZlTgdupgbivaaMwf0PhUJCX9CgGGbw1mIlXTadlv9kYVAY3ov_VxTMksHcaphNpkMzAFWnNuQPlsx9PA6hpuP287Kxfvhqaew_azXec1j7E/s640/_DSC0956.JPG" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Tanner comforts Ailee while she gets poked and prodded. Looking back on these pictures, I think "Hallelujah!" but also, what a rude entrance into the world this poor baby had!</td></tr>
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Finally I got to hold my baby to my chest, and Tanner and I decided
on her name. Ailee Grace.</div>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhgpilH1Z9Ytu0jYLnz76w8ciHXHEAcEhs1DLiTKxOd4T6PR-bUVDduXoeO5YMQIcCT_3p_U0GbDpATJNrG4DmeAu5acktrasPAbYgALDN9igJnT1-IF_cXyTrOONsL5cVMexoGdTM6ki8/s1600/_DSC0966.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="426" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhgpilH1Z9Ytu0jYLnz76w8ciHXHEAcEhs1DLiTKxOd4T6PR-bUVDduXoeO5YMQIcCT_3p_U0GbDpATJNrG4DmeAu5acktrasPAbYgALDN9igJnT1-IF_cXyTrOONsL5cVMexoGdTM6ki8/s640/_DSC0966.JPG" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Finally holding my baby girl.</td><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><br /></td></tr>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhLGdMmPfxVruz9b7hyphenhyphenO33SS2PwlxypXvZWlvvyKoqCzPO7kVkAs4iYaOMMQEfm267N_JdssMzN8VzYYJWROtZHQ92_U5D9_JApalfORQeTOntkCDso7mYLL3HPl7916G6L8JaYgi9y5P4/s1600/_DSC0979.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="426" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhLGdMmPfxVruz9b7hyphenhyphenO33SS2PwlxypXvZWlvvyKoqCzPO7kVkAs4iYaOMMQEfm267N_JdssMzN8VzYYJWROtZHQ92_U5D9_JApalfORQeTOntkCDso7mYLL3HPl7916G6L8JaYgi9y5P4/s640/_DSC0979.JPG" width="640" /></a></div>
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Tanner had to give Ailee a bottle at some point, I'm not sure when but I think it was because of her
glucose levels being low or something. I'm not sure why they didn't ask me to nurse first. </div>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgqxTgh6Z9onp4BLL44qyvo40hXjAABQC8-9LOc7nDJtj09_B-jFaWKStRfXAOJm6zlsWMAcMTksfXA5S7K4wXCsSMJJy-jwHP1EK-I6_thU5Apx8kADWhyphenhyphenFeAYtMgKFjIlIplmGlDkRHg/s1600/_DSC0983.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="426" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgqxTgh6Z9onp4BLL44qyvo40hXjAABQC8-9LOc7nDJtj09_B-jFaWKStRfXAOJm6zlsWMAcMTksfXA5S7K4wXCsSMJJy-jwHP1EK-I6_thU5Apx8kADWhyphenhyphenFeAYtMgKFjIlIplmGlDkRHg/s640/_DSC0983.JPG" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Ailee's first meal came from Daddy and a bottle full of formula. Sad for Mommy, especially looking back, but beautiful to see my sweet husband feeding with his girl. I love his bulging biceps hard at work with such a tender task!</td></tr>
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Then Ailee had to get taken away because they had to test her
glucose again – I think. Again, blurry on this. They brought her back and said I needed to try and nurse her
because her levels were still low, and if she didn’t nurse she’d need another bottle.
I was worried about the whole bottle thing. We got her to nurse but it was really hard. Two nurses had to help me. Later I would find out that Ailee had a lip tie and tongue tie that made normal nursing impossible for her. But we got her to take Mommy's milk and she never had formula again after that initial bottle immediately after her birth.</div>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">A very tired me with my little slumbering angel. We had both been through a LOT already.</td></tr>
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I had to wait in the labor & delivery room for a long time waiting for a
postpartum room to clear up. Ailee slept on my chest, and my mom and dad came in to
see the baby. That was a very happy moment and helped to take my mind off of everything that had gone so contrary to my hopes. </div>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Ailee with her VV</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiNIUgSOrOR1U7DMw04QUaG99rFiGcsnLH_8B16GJQ1quZKByNBGVcusrbCxIEwJg9DZkNaZAnZdy9F-BfMwJ6cxri856IE6309YWPOii9yHBxpp-ieDF-tma_pqReI38K4XBnqnnE5SEc/s1600/_DSC1000.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="426" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiNIUgSOrOR1U7DMw04QUaG99rFiGcsnLH_8B16GJQ1quZKByNBGVcusrbCxIEwJg9DZkNaZAnZdy9F-BfMwJ6cxri856IE6309YWPOii9yHBxpp-ieDF-tma_pqReI38K4XBnqnnE5SEc/s640/_DSC1000.JPG" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">VV and Voots with their little Ailee Bear</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhdPPKcGaCMoH2u2FUvuWnlFBjucMRb_s0PMfuFnocmLwvSpPGe55C3xOqJ-y3qaX9jOGfC5crCVTEbM8fhBZ8xHlxogGnDQxRfMo896Yjl7xZeX5-dypmDvemvPborlykbl4V8IZ7hRNY/s1600/_DSC1003.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="426" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhdPPKcGaCMoH2u2FUvuWnlFBjucMRb_s0PMfuFnocmLwvSpPGe55C3xOqJ-y3qaX9jOGfC5crCVTEbM8fhBZ8xHlxogGnDQxRfMo896Yjl7xZeX5-dypmDvemvPborlykbl4V8IZ7hRNY/s640/_DSC1003.JPG" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Aunt Kitty and her niece!</td></tr>
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By the grace of God, after I had my little girl, I didn't struggle with any feelings of inadequacy because of the off-track birth experience or go through a mourning phase like some women do when they feel the birth went awry. At some point during the whole experience, I can't pinpoint when, I realized my sin and this verse became imprinted in my mind: "Trust in the Lord with all your heart and <u>lean not on your own understanding</u>. In all your ways submit to Him and He will make your path straight." Provers 3:5-6 Since then, that verse has gotten me through many confusing, tough, dark and sleep-deprived moments in this journey of parenting. After the birth, I left that experience behind me and shifted gears to my new task as Mommy. But is has been good in the months since, after gaining some healthy emotional distance, perspective and hormone leveling, to reflect on the experience.</div>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi9tOTWNomrVac89SKOMOkQY8HdWQ4O8ffm_c87DXbzuxLJNCyySmAz6oTj7R6-LSv1I-7iImLZ4c9zyuyHgEbVZ92EFR1Mnb-i4aclQn7sBT8LQ49FfBoGHEcV_VoIBk64DZDSdK9b6TQ/s1600/_DSC1013.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="426" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi9tOTWNomrVac89SKOMOkQY8HdWQ4O8ffm_c87DXbzuxLJNCyySmAz6oTj7R6-LSv1I-7iImLZ4c9zyuyHgEbVZ92EFR1Mnb-i4aclQn7sBT8LQ49FfBoGHEcV_VoIBk64DZDSdK9b6TQ/s640/_DSC1013.JPG" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">My dad brought birthday hats for the big day. This picture makes me laugh. I look sooo tired. And I was!</td></tr>
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I'm still a believer in natural childbirth. It will be my goal for my next (God willing) birth experience, although I hope and pray that it will be submitted to the Lord and not on its own altar of knowledge and pride. </div>
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Outside from the spiritual aspect (AKA my sin & pride!), there are several main factors I believe "derailed" my birth goals. </div>
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1) My water breaking spontaneously. I don't know what caused this. I don't know if it could have been prevented with a healthier diet during pregnancy (Mine was shamefully awful, and I will never eat that way again! I pray God heals Ailee from any damage I did with my terrible habits), less activity or something else. It might have just been "one of those things" – you know, those weird things that just happen! Either way, my body was obviously NOT ready for labor, but when my water broke it started the labor process in my mind and in my healthcare provider's mind. I had to be induced to force my body into a labor that it was not ready for. I still need to research the safety and wisdom of this, but for future pregnancies, barring any other complications being present, I would like to continue to labor naturally with no intervention even if my membranes rupture while drinking plenty of water, keeping tabs on the baby's heart rate and reasonably reducing the risks of infection at home.</div>
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2) Presence of meconium-stained fluid. This seemed pretty serious to everyone, but I was totally clueless as to the risks it presented and how it should affect my future decisions. I took stock in everyone's words and concerned expressions. I still need to research this complication for future pregnancies. The presence of the fluid resulted in people not wanting the labor to be "unnecessarily" prolonged and resulted in hospital protocols that prevented me from doing skin-to-skin and immediate nursing. </div>
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3) Induction. Because my membranes had been ruptured for a significant length of time and no labor followed, I was induced. This tethered me to a monitor in one corner of the room and limited my pain-coping techniques. I could not labor in a tub. I could not walk very far. I could not get into every position I wanted to. When contractions came on rapidly, my body had no time to acclimate. When the baby's heart rate dropped (not sure what caused this), I was forced to lay in one very painful position. This lead me to the epidural.</div>
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4) Fear. Fear of the pain. Fear and frustration because everything was failing.</div>
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I think my nurse-midwives did a great job. I am happy with the care they provided me. This is no complaint against them, but I am not sure if I will choose to go that route again. With a hospital birth, the hospital culture with time limits and medication are all around you even if your health-care providers support natural child birth. I guess it was just too tempting for someone like me and infiltrated my decisions. I haven't ruled out another hospital birth, but I am definitely considering a home birth or birthing center for the future. </div>
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I'm sure I've left out tons of what I wanted to say and haven't done a great job at getting across what I meant to say with what I did say. Make sense? No. I know I've left out pretty much everything explaining my perspectives and beliefs and reasoning on natural childbirth, and that is important to completely understanding my reactions and responses to what happened during Ailee's birth. I'll tackle all that someday. Maybe when I'm expecting again. That would be a good time. Maybe half of you are perplexed or annoyed at me because of my perspectives and opinions and are rolling your eyes at me. All I have to say about that is, be careful because your face might get stuck like that! </div>
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I am thankful that God kept me and Ailee safe during her birth. I'm thankful for all that He taught me during the experience and the testimony He provided me. I'm thankful for the beautiful daughter He has entrusted to our care. We are blessed and thankful!<br />
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Ailee Grace </td></tr>
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<br />Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05407825751018840480noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1989590509648610688.post-89284319519133079482013-01-16T10:20:00.000-06:002013-01-16T15:41:28.224-06:00Birth Story - Part Two<a href="http://www.erinandtanner.com/2012/11/birth-story-part-one.html" target="_blank">Read Part 1 of this birth story here.</a><br />
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I downloaded a PDF of the hospital map, then added color-coded and numbered arrows with corresponding directions for myself and Tanner and for my family – with multiple options depending on which freeway traveled and whether parking in the visitors garage or use valet.<br />
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And we still ended up in the wrong place.<br />
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We got to hospital feeling excited and weird. I felt special and important and ... weird ... walking into the hospital with my big ol' belly and a veeery slooowly mounting, surreal realization that this was really happening. We went to Labor and Delivery, which was apparently wrong. We got led to some kind of "staging" area. I don't remember what it's really called, but I think it's basically the place where they decide if you're far along enough to get a labor room or if you're just a worrisome, over eager first-time mom who gets booted out to labor some more at your house, or Starbucks or wherever.<br />
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I was placed in a room to wait for my midwife. I changed into a gown and sat on the exam table where I leaked about a gallon of green fluid. They brought me some towels because that flimsy little tissue paper stuff wasn't gonna cut it and I didn't want to slip 'n' slide off the exam table. Tanner wandered around the halls and found me a "cup" (some kind of measuring container) and some water, which I chugged to keep Ailee floating and the water works flowing.<br />
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Shortly after arriving at the hospital</td></tr>
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A nurse took some vitals and then Candyce, the midwife on call, came to examine me. I was a little anxious because Candyce was the one midwife I didn't know very well. I'd only had one brief check-up with her. If I had been given a choice, I would not have picked her to be my midwife, simply because I didn't have much of a relationship with her, but thankfully God was in control because she ended up being such a source of strength, calmness and encouragement. <br />
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My examination proved I was at 2 cm, not effaced and a whole bunch of other mumbo jumbo I don't remember that basically meant that 12 hours after my membranes ruptured, I was still no where near ready to have the baby. Candyce knew how much I wanted a natural birth, but she had two concerns:<br />
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(1) Infection because my membranes were ruptured. Every time they "checked" me (stuck their hands up there and poked around – PAINFUL) the risk increased, so the goal was not to check me unless absolutely necessary.<br />
(2) Meconium aspiration, where the baby breathes the meconium (feces, the green stuff that was in the fluid) into the lungs at the time of birth<br />
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Candyce knew how much I wanted a natural birth, but because of those two concerns she told me she would let me labor for 18 hours and if I didn't show signs of progress, she would induce me. That gave me about 6 more hours to try and get my body moving.<br />
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We checked into my labor room, which was very nice. I started having some regular contractions. They hurt but nothing too wild. When I wasn't having contractions or peeing green stuff, I was constantly moving to try and stimulate labor. I looked like a serious mall walker making laps around that hospital wing. After about three hours, I started to get anxious. While my contractions were uncomfortable, I could tell they were not strong enough to make real progress. I knew my body was still in the early stages of labor. I called my friends, Summer Anderson and Summer Petty, who prayed with me over the phone that if it was God's will, my labor would progress so that I could proceed without intervention.<br />
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About three hours later, around 7 pm, Candyce came in and checked me again. I can still remember crying because it hurt so bad. I can't remember if I was still a 2 or had moved to a 3 or 4, but regardless, all signs showed not much had changed. Candyce told me she wanted to induce me. I was really heartbroken, but I agreed. In retrospect, I wish I had asked more questions. Our labor class provided us with great conversation guides for how to make sure you understand all your options, but I didn't even think of all that stuff. I think the risk of infection because my membranes had been ruptured so long was not actually the main concern. I wish I'd asked what was the main concern. I think it was the meconium that concerned them the most, and that was why they wanted to induce after those 18 hrs. I did not research meconium aspiration beforehand and had no idea how serious it could be. I also didn't ask. If there were no meconium involved, I don't see why I couldn't have labored at home longer, not coming in until things had progressed further, even if it was 24 hours or longer after my water broke. The risk of infection would have been basically nil at home. But either way, I was there at the hospital and I just took my midwife's word for it. I trusted that she had my best interest at heart and just went with it. Next time, even though the outcome might have been the same, I will ask more questions and understand better my options.<br />
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SO, blah blah blah. I didn't get pitocin right off the bat. Instead I got this pill that is supposed to jump start things, then wear off in about 4 hours. We were hoping my body would kick in and pick up from there. At this time, my labor got stronger and more painful. I had to get strapped to some super annoying belt monitor thing. This bulky, heavy plastic box attached to a stretchy belt and kept track of the baby's heart beat. It was uncomfortable the way it dug into my skin and since my belly was so big it kept sliding around and had to be repositioned all the time. It also meant I had to stay tethered to the monitor and had to stay in one corner of the room by my bed. (I could take it on and off to go to the bathroom.) So I walked little circles in my room and bounced around in between contractions, which were stronger now.<br />
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Prepared in my hospital bag I had: essential oils of lavender (for pain) and peppermint (for nausea). I also brought a wipes warmer and washcloths so I could soak the cloths in water and oil and use them as warm compresses. I mostly ended up sniffing the oils. I also had my iPod with a labor playlist of inspiring Christian songs, a long list of Bible verses, some art I had drawn to encourage me through labor, and some sheets with pictures of different labor positions. I also had a birth ball Candyce brought me. Standing and bending forward over the edge of the bed while while reading verses and squatting down while leaning my back against the ball, which was against the wall, while sniffing my oils helped the most.<br />
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I guess it was around midnight that they checked me again
and I was only at a 4. Candyce said this wasn’t enough, and I had to get on a
pitocin drip. I
didn’t ask questions. I had been awake for about 24 hours at this point and I was tired. I was still having meconium fluid and it was getting darker, which I think meant the baby was continuing to have more bowel movements. Pitocin meant I was on
an IV drip on a little cart. I was couldn’t walk the halls so I
walked the little square in my room. I was still trying to help labor along! Most of what I had read prior to childbirth indicated that most women who get induced with pitocin end up getting an epidural, which I really didn't want. I told both Tanner and Candyce that I wanted to labor without medication after receiving the pitocin.
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEisv1umuhvwYb-1JO2TQ3UPFl6lHaiGZalMsGEq4nBaGZFWOOPSaBXz-8Yoalq0udrNpx3TnVduEPsEsY_2gNh3mSs52Zsbo_fd8bAGWEy8SmGH56_ikuiDS_rr-nByCP-O0GhZikRDjWQ/s1600/photo+1.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="298" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEisv1umuhvwYb-1JO2TQ3UPFl6lHaiGZalMsGEq4nBaGZFWOOPSaBXz-8Yoalq0udrNpx3TnVduEPsEsY_2gNh3mSs52Zsbo_fd8bAGWEy8SmGH56_ikuiDS_rr-nByCP-O0GhZikRDjWQ/s400/photo+1.JPG" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman";">Long hours with little progress make husband very sleepy.</span></td></tr>
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I did labor for a while with the pitocin drip for a short while, but labor started to pick up almost immediately and move more
quickly. My body didn’t have much time to adjust to the pain, so it was very
intense for me. I also was very, very tired. I was doing pretty good with my pain coping, though, as long as I could get into certain positions. The only position that helped ease the
pain were to stand and lean over the side of the bed or get up on the
bed, get on my knees, and lean over the top of the bed, which was folded up into
a sitting position. But, the baby’s heart rate dropped too low several
times during contractions while I was in those positions. They told me I had on
my side to stabilize the baby, and if its heart rate picked back up after a
half an hour or something, I could start moving around again. Being forced to
lay motionless on my side during the contractions was excruciatingly painful and because I wasn't able to move around to ease the pain, I felt very helpless and afraid. I
began panicking and screaming and crying during each contraction.
All the mental pain-coping methods I had learned went out the window, and I was extremely frantic. I had no idea how I could tolerate this pain – which had skyrocketed from a moderate to extreme level in a matter of a half an hour – any longer while lying still in the fetal position, and I started to feel even more afraid, especially knowing my body had a long way to go.<br />
<br />
I was freakin' out, y'all.<br />
<br />
Tanner was with me this whole time, supporting me every step of the way. I think he left once to get something to eat from a vending machine. I began considering an epidural and told Tanner and Candyce. Candyce said it might not be a bad idea. She thought I had been awake for a loooong time and my body needed a chance to rest before it would progress. Tanner was so good and tried to talk me out of it. Which I love him for. All during my pregnancy, I had preached to him how I believed an epidural was not best for mommy and baby and that I really didn’t want one. I said he should try to encourage me not to get one if I say I want one. But my pain was so intense, I was so tired, and honestly, I was so confused and a little disillusioned with the turn all these events had taken. In that space and time, I truly wanted an epidural FOR REAL. When he kept asking me, “Are you sure? I’m worried you’re going to regret it. You don’t want one,” I got worried that HE was going to be disappointed in me if I did get one! I was emotional and crying. Finally I convinced him it was what I really wanted. He still seemed unsure, and I was afraid he didn’t support me. Really, he was just doing what I had asked him to do all along. It was a big emotional mess and finally we all agreed I would get an epidural.<br />
<br />
Ugh. This is making me tired just typing it all. So I'll wrap up the rest of the story and my reflections on the whole experience next time.
<br />
<br />
<br />Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05407825751018840480noreply@blogger.com5tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1989590509648610688.post-4331081895372425002012-11-02T16:43:00.000-05:002013-01-16T10:31:36.283-06:00Birth Story - Part One<div style="font-family: inherit;">
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<div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: inherit; text-align: center;">
<span style="font-size: 10pt;">I<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>had birth
plans. Lots of them. </span></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi2fFdw028pVbJLj0wiqsUdpmP3_p10q2hBdMRQWaa_mzG2PjvpySIGj1jFoTgpiA2Skka2NyCrzLvdxLP-lq6TmEjDBD0spsV6h9YEa7Uw8WZYDRTBWbrgVtkmq5_O0m8CNeSEeYaAwVc/s1600/sul-7069.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="266" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi2fFdw028pVbJLj0wiqsUdpmP3_p10q2hBdMRQWaa_mzG2PjvpySIGj1jFoTgpiA2Skka2NyCrzLvdxLP-lq6TmEjDBD0spsV6h9YEa7Uw8WZYDRTBWbrgVtkmq5_O0m8CNeSEeYaAwVc/s400/sul-7069.jpg" width="400" /></a></div>
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<span style="font-size: 10pt;"> None of them
happened.</span></div>
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<span style="font-size: 10pt;">Well, except the whole getting the baby out of my belly
part. That happened. Which is the most important part of said plan. So in that
way, all's well that ends well.</span></div>
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<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: inherit;">
<b><span style="font-size: 10pt;">The Plan</span></b></div>
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<span style="font-size: 10pt;">I dreamed of a birth without medical intervention – a
natural childbirth that occurred without induction, pain medication, or
surgical procedures. I decided on this because I thought it would be best for
ME and MY baby. (You might feel differently for you and your baby. That's
great!) I felt it was the healthiest option for us both and it fit into my
ideals about birthing as a physical, emotional, and spiritual journey and rite
of passage. I also thought that a childbirth that forced me to cope with my
pain would cause me to trust in and rely on God in a way that no other
experience could. </span></div>
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<br /></div>
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<span style="font-size: 10pt;">My birth went differently than I had planned in almost every
way. Ironically, for this very reason I was forced to rely on God in a
different and possibly more difficult (for me, the control freak) way than I
had originally imagined. </span></div>
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<br /></div>
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<span style="font-size: 10pt;">I chose the <a href="http://www.nurse-midwife.com/" target="_blank">UNTHealth Nurse-Midwives</a> as my health care
providers. I strongly considered a home birth, but based on some stories from
friends who had to transfer to hospitals from home and because of some concerns
Tanner had, I decided the Nurse Midwives were a great option. They are six
women who practice traditional midwivery, but in the setting of a hospital. You
can even have a water birth. However, if something goes wrong or if you decide
you want medical intervention, you are already there in the hospital. Because
she is also a nurse, your midwife, who you have spent the last nine months
building a bond of trust with, can continue to be your health care provider.
She can even scrub in and assist if you need a C-section. I was comforted
knowing that if I needed medical intervention I wouldn't have to be handed over
to people who didn't support or understand my desires for my birth experience.</span></div>
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<br /></div>
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<span style="font-size: 10pt;">I remember praying with Tanner in the waiting room before
our meet-and-greet appointment with the Nurse Midwives and asking for God to
confirm whether he wanted us to partner with these women and trust our baby's
birth and my birth experience to them. The confirmation I felt during our
meeting was so overwhelming. Turns out, a home birth would have been disastrous
anyway considering that at the time Ailee was born, our home was in complete,
floor-ripped-out renovation mode. Sawdust and nail guns shouldn't be part of
anyone's birth plan, unless you're planning on giving birth to Pinocchio or
something.</span></div>
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<br /></div>
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<span style="font-size: 10pt;">During my prenatal care, I worked with my midwives to make
important decisions about the baby's impending birth. They were on board with
all my hopes. The book I read to prepare for birth was Birthing From Within,
which I recommend if you are wanting a natural childbirth. It's super
tree-hugger-ish and earth-mother-ish, but it is a great preparation tool. I
also took a child birth class based on <a href="http://www.birthingfromwithin.com/" target="_blank"><i>Birthing From Within</i></a> led by an amazing
woman, Natalie Meek at <a href="http://laborwithlove.com/" target="_blank">Labor With Love</a>, who took many concepts of the book and
adapted them to fit them into a Christ-centered perspective. God used her as a
great tool to prepare and soften my heart because when I was so rigid about my
natural-childbirth dreams and philosophies, she gently reminded me that while
those goals were wonderful and I should pursue them, whatever decisions I had
to make to get my baby here safely and healthily were ones that could be
celebrated. I was not a failure if the birth went down a path other than the
one I had so carefully scripted. I needed that message in my heart.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span></span></div>
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<b><span style="font-size: 10pt;">The Birth Begins, Sort of</span></b></div>
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<br /></div>
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<span style="font-size: 10pt;">My water broke at 1:00 am on June 19th, two days before my
due date. This still impresses me because one of the Midwives said she thought
I would not be too late or too early, but right on my due-date, give or take a
couple days. Cue Goldilocks and the Three Bears.</span></div>
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<br /></div>
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<span style="font-size: 10pt;">It took me a while to realize my water had broke (Is that
even correct grammar?) because I hadn't experienced any contractions yet. I
woke up in the middle of the night, went to the bathroom, and when I swung my
leg up to get back in bed, some fluid came out. TMI, but I had been having a
little bit of incontinence in the late stages of pregnancy, so I chalked it up
to that. I changed my underwear and got back in bed. </span></div>
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<span style="font-size: 10pt;">A lot of tossing and turning ensued, followed by some more
fluid, another clean set of XXXXL granny panties and about 10-15 frantic
minutes on my iPhone Googling the crap out of "how do I know if my water
broke?" When I got up to go to the bathroom again, I had another large
gush of clear fluid. I did a bunch of bizarre stuff like smelling the fluid and
taking PH tests before I finally decided my water had broke and called the
midwives. I know it seems dense, but I was so confused because I'd had no
labor. Everything I'd read said only 10% or less of women experience their
water breaking before labor starts.</span></div>
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<span style="font-size: 10pt;">Yay for being the 10%.</span></div>
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<br /></div>
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<span style="font-size: 10pt;">The Midwife on call said it sounded like my membranes had
ruptured, and she encouraged me to stay at home and labor until my contractions
were consistently close together and strong. I'd never get to labor at home,
though. </span></div>
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<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: inherit;">
<span style="font-size: 10pt;">I filled Tanner in on what was going on. I was never really
able to go back to sleep after that. I mostly laid in bed and looked up stuff
on the Internet. The longer I waited with no labor, the more confused and
anxious I got. I also started noticing that the fluid (which was CONSTANTLY
leaking from me) had a greenish tinge to it. Some more iPhone research gave me
the suspicion that it was meconium staining, meaning that the baby had released
a bowel movement into the amniotic fluid before birth. Another call to my
midwife confirmed the likelihood of this. She didn't sound too concerned,
though, and said to keep an eye on the darkness of the fluid, which at that
time was a very light barely-there green. </span></div>
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<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: inherit;">
<span style="font-size: 10pt;">At some point in the morning, I started having a surge of
contractions close together and stronger than anything I had experienced up the
that point. It was nothing compared to what I would feel later, but at that
point, I didn't know what to expect! Everything Tanner and I had learned about
the 5-1-1 rule (contractions are 5 minutes apart, one minute long, and last for
one hour) went out the window. Being 45 minutes away from the hospital and
having a friend who barely made it there in time to pop her little sucker out,
Tanner was ready for us to GO! I called the after hours number, and while we
waited to hear back, we got our stuff together, picked up my mom who was
staying next door at our friend's house, and hit the road, JACK. </span></div>
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<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: inherit;">
<span style="font-size: 10pt;">On the way, the Midwife called me back and said, "DO
NOT COME TO THE HOSPITAL." It was too soon, and she was worried if I was
there too early, I would not end up with the birth I wanted. We were all
already in the car, though, and not wanting to waste the gas, we headed into
town anyway for some health food. Since I couldn't fulfill the stereotype of
the small-town girl having her water break in Walmart, ala Natalie Portman in
<i>Where the Heart Is</i>, I figured tottering around McDonalds with a larger-than-life
maxi pad full of amniotic fluid while occasionally hunching over with small
contractions as I ordered a sausage biscuit that would probably make it's
reprise as I pushed my baby out was a close second. </span></div>
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<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: inherit;">
<span style="font-size: 10pt;">Next we headed to the car vacuum station station to clean
the truck out. I had a decent contraction there when I got out of the car, and
when the attendant saw the whale grimacing in the parking lot, he decided to
give us a coupon for a free car wash. Gold level. I never get gold level. Yay.</span></div>
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<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: inherit;">
<span style="font-size: 10pt;">Next it was back home where we installed the car seat and
took the dogs for a loooong walk. My "labor" had pretty much slowed
to non-existent, so I hopped up on a step stool and started painting ceiling
trim.</span></div>
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<br /></div>
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<br /></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgAI4v1DHF_wlw6ypgwL5pSkaj27upUyaTsm9ZkwalmuYjJ6SnVkA_tIflsIqE4V-t-pWNgwJpE_7JLEX4FckCOPblx__ObFpWsNErpS0jFYJur3wgUq9l0bOoQZPPjqQH3FGzcJ1kn3kc/s1600/IMG_3147.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgAI4v1DHF_wlw6ypgwL5pSkaj27upUyaTsm9ZkwalmuYjJ6SnVkA_tIflsIqE4V-t-pWNgwJpE_7JLEX4FckCOPblx__ObFpWsNErpS0jFYJur3wgUq9l0bOoQZPPjqQH3FGzcJ1kn3kc/s320/IMG_3147.jpg" width="240" /></a></div>
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<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: inherit;">
<span style="font-size: 10pt;">At 1pm, 12 hours after my membranes had ruptured, we called
the midwives. I updated them on the situation, also letting them know that the
green tinge in my fluid had gotten a little darker. They told us to come in. </span></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgzOiPadajnlfsl6raDaPnAk7_5SMT9UBsEsHgqK7bTUKyrGnBA57EFGystsTYYoaOjfUk0S9jssKoy78FSSfx1UFkxIaEheVhSOHAMPS4LtfLPbGJGe8jM3Y3K4GDdA7de7vnhgvW1NgE/s1600/sul-6990.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="266" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgzOiPadajnlfsl6raDaPnAk7_5SMT9UBsEsHgqK7bTUKyrGnBA57EFGystsTYYoaOjfUk0S9jssKoy78FSSfx1UFkxIaEheVhSOHAMPS4LtfLPbGJGe8jM3Y3K4GDdA7de7vnhgvW1NgE/s400/sul-6990.jpg" width="400" /></a></div>
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<span style="font-size: 10pt;">As far as the story goes, I'll end it there for now and pick
it up later. It's a long (30 hour +) story.</span></div>
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<br /></div>
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<span style="font-size: 10pt;">(All the photos, except for the disgusting one of me in my
pink bra, are by <a href="http://recollections-photography.com/?load=flash#" target="_blank">Recollections Photography</a>)</span></div>
Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05407825751018840480noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1989590509648610688.post-82142896376908172922012-10-12T09:47:00.000-05:002012-10-14T09:54:48.248-05:00Announcing Ailee Grace Haynes! 3 months later...She's been in our lives for three months, and I think it's taken me that long to pause, take a breath and just appreciate the miracle that is our baby, Ailee Grace Haynes.<br />
<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEizcVt1tsv84xAh_T1euQYLJAIibHG-OA0mRma18KXtpqJCjusRy2zZ73DCnlhhLF6xMcP3eRnJBHrjnUggZ1RytM3TJMQxpXBhyphenhyphen3t_g6B5VAUE20zkIvl2LRCqsQzXIQ732pKekcZYwyM/s1600/hay-1746a+copy.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="425" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEizcVt1tsv84xAh_T1euQYLJAIibHG-OA0mRma18KXtpqJCjusRy2zZ73DCnlhhLF6xMcP3eRnJBHrjnUggZ1RytM3TJMQxpXBhyphenhyphen3t_g6B5VAUE20zkIvl2LRCqsQzXIQ732pKekcZYwyM/s640/hay-1746a+copy.jpg" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Photo by <a href="http://recollections-photography.com/?load=flash#" target="_blank">Recollections Photography</a></td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<br />
Ailee Grace was born on June 20 around 9:00 am at <a href="http://www.texashealth.org/landing.cfm?id=107" target="_blank">Harris Methodist Hospital</a> in Fort Worth. She was delivered by Summer Latta of the <a href="http://www.nurse-midwife.com/about/" target="_blank">UNT Nurse-Midwives Group</a>. Our lil' booger weighed 7 lbs 14oz and was 20 inches long. In the delivery room were me (duh), Tanner, my sister, Kathleen, my nurse-midwife and another helping nurse. Waiting eagerly outside, wondering if they were having a granddaughter or grandson, were my mom and dad. <br />
<br />
I was so happy to hear that the sweet thing kicking me in the bladder and punching me in the ribs for the last few months was a little girl. I had a feeling during the whole pregnancy that she was a she. And she was!<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh1lXUAy3OyKm8dfENVan3FlnMQ92RMh_uOoMAiCAaFxCKBzUeD1qcmblJ0hvTTuzyRfS1hK_P4S9ZmmBqqQw8Dr8wsJi42S4iaT35DCDAD5xae46HV2FPwngID4lLEuNWf4e9v6mSLmwM/s1600/hay-1675.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh1lXUAy3OyKm8dfENVan3FlnMQ92RMh_uOoMAiCAaFxCKBzUeD1qcmblJ0hvTTuzyRfS1hK_P4S9ZmmBqqQw8Dr8wsJi42S4iaT35DCDAD5xae46HV2FPwngID4lLEuNWf4e9v6mSLmwM/s400/hay-1675.jpg" width="266" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Photo by <a href="http://recollections-photography.com/?load=flash#" target="_blank">Recollections Photography</a></td></tr>
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Boy names were a lot easier for Tanner and I to agree on for some reason, but we had girl names narrowed down to two selections and decided on Ailee Grace in the delivery room after the baby was born. Yes, no one knows how to pronounce it. She'll get over it. For the record, the "ai" makes the same sound it makes in rain, brain, aim, exclaim, maintain, etc etc. <br />
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We got the name Ailee from the Irish/Scottish name Aileen. We considered naming her Aileen and calling her Ailee, but then I thought I'd just name her what I planned on calling her. I hoped I was saving her from having to double correct on the first day of school for the rest of her life.<br />
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"It's Ai-Leen, not Eye-Leen, and, actually, I go by Ailee."<br />
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Anyway, both my sister and I have Irish Gaelic names, and I thought it would be nice to carry on the tradition because it's something my Grandpa Sullivan would have loved. Also, the name was similar to my middle name, Alene, which is the name of my Great Aunt Alene, with whom I'm very close. Tanner's Grandma Haynes, Shirley's, middle name is Aileen. Also, we just liked the way it sounded.<br />
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Meaning was also important to me. I know when your kid introduces itself for the rest of it's life, no one is going to know whether his/her name means noble warrior, fair and beautiful or toe-jam picker. But, I do think names can be a prayer over your children and serve as a way to encourage them, especially if you share the meaning with them and remind them of it through out their life.<br />
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Aileen means "light bearer." So we pray that Ailee will bring the light of Christ into the world – into her personal relationships with friends, into her interactions with strangers she meets, into the lives of her husband and children and grandchildren if she has them, and unto the nations of the world. <br />
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Grace has so many meanings that we pray over Ailee's life. We pray that she would receive God's grace through Jesus Christ and that she would be a witness to it all her life. And, we pray that Ailee would act with grace – that she will live and walk in kindness, love and mercy.<br />
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It took me a long time to get this post written. Sort of like ***weird analogy coming up*** how it took a loooooooong time for my sweet baby girl to take the head-first plunge down the fun-filled water slide that was my aching birth canal. I plan for that – my birth story – to be my next post. I don't know when I will get that written, though; this whole baby thing is pretty demanding. For now, I guess I should go get Ailee from the couch where I propped her up to watch Real Housewives of New Jersey.<br />
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It was the only way I could keep her occupied enough for me to write! Just kidding. Maybe. <br />
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<br />Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05407825751018840480noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1989590509648610688.post-3750601548804939782012-06-01T17:02:00.000-05:002012-06-01T17:06:57.133-05:00Getting Ready for Baby - Scripture for Labor/Delivery<div style="font-family: inherit;">
Right now, I'm feeling Baby Haynes' little footsie test the elasticity of my skin as it presses against the top of my tummy.</div>
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I'll tell you one thing about pregnancy: It has brought me to sheer and utter awe at how stretchy the human skin is. I just hope it's as good at shrinking as it is at stretching.</div>
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Mainly, "getting ready" for Baby has meant tackling long-needed renovations to our home. These things were on the schedule to be completed months ago, but since we were tackling them DIY-style, hectic work schedules, insane travel schedules (really, what's wrong with a FALL WEDDING, people!!??), and family illnesses postponed the work. Once we (read: ME) reached about 35 weeks pregnant and saw that none of our projects had been completed, it dawned on us that something was about to hit the fan -- and let me tell you, it wasn't a bunch of daises. So, we bit the bullet and decided to pay someone to finish most of the work.</div>
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I've posted some updates on Facebook from the home reno front, and many people have responded that it's so cute how I'm "nesting." I don't know what typical nesting is supposed to look like, but I don't think it involves ripping out all of your old house (popcorn ceiling, carpet, door and floor trim), replacing it with new stuff (hardwood wood floors, ceiling, floor, and door trim, and new ceiling texture/wood ceilings) and painting every inch of vertical, horizontal and upside down space. I feel like I'm past the whole cutesy nesting concept. I'd love to be reorganizing my kitchen cupboards and washing and folding baby clothes. But all my baby stuff is in storage in our shop and my kitchen is a main thoroughfare for paint- and mud-caked boots. But if this house project IS considered nesting ... I'm that robin with the fear of God burning in her eyes and every feather standing up on edge as she tries to build her entire nest in the middle of a rain storm 10 minutes before it's time to squeeze a watermelon-sized egg out of a grape-sized hole.</div>
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But it's all good. We can live in a teepee in the back yard if Baby comes early.</div>
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On a much more calming front. Although I'm a terrible procrastinator, I did set aside some time this week to work on some preparations for my impending labor. I made my labor playlist and downloaded it to my phone, set up a contact group so we could alert close friends and family when it's time to pop, and I gathered a collection of Bible verses to encourage and guide me through birthing. It actually took me quite a while to compile this list scripture, so I thought I'd share it. I organized everything into categories that make sense to me:</div>
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<b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;">God Makes Me Strong!</b>
</div>
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<span class="text2tim-1-7">For the Spirit God gave us does not
make us timid, but gives us power, love and self-discipline. </span>2 Timothy
1:7</div>
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<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: inherit;">
<span class="textphil-4-13">I can do all this through Him who
gives me strength. </span>Philippians 4:13</div>
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<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: inherit;">
<span class="texteph-6-10">Be strong in the Lord and in his
mighty power. </span>Ephesians 6:10</div>
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<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: inherit;">
<span class="textisa-40-29">He gives strength to the weary</span><span class="indent-1-breaks"> </span><span class="textisa-40-29">and increases the
power of the weak. </span><span class="textisa-40-30">Even youths grow tired and
weary, and young men stumble and fall; </span><span class="textisa-40-31">but
those who hope in the </span><span class="small-caps"><span style="font-variant: small-caps;">Lord</span></span><span class="indent-1-breaks"> </span><span class="textisa-40-31">will renew their strength. They will soar on wings like
eagles; they will run and not grow weary, they will walk and not be faint. </span>Isaiah
40:29-31</div>
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But as for you, be strong and do not give up, for your work
will be rewarded. 2 Chronicles 15:7</div>
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<span class="textprov-17-22">A cheerful heart is good
medicine, but a crushed spirit dries up the bones. </span>Proverbs 17:22</div>
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<span class="text2cor-12-9">But he said to me, </span><span class="woj">“My grace is sufficient for you, for my power is made perfect in
weakness. ” </span><span class="text2cor-12-9">Therefore I will boast all the
more gladly about my weaknesses, so that Christ’s power may rest on me.</span> <span class="text2cor-12-10">That is why, for Christ’s sake, I delight in weaknesses,
in insults, in hardships, in persecutions, in difficulties. For when I am weak,
then I am strong. 2 Corinthians 12:9-10</span></div>
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Wait for the Lord; be strong and take heart and wait for the
Lord. Psalm 27:14</div>
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<b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;">Hope of the Joy to
Come</b></div>
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<span class="woj">A woman giving birth to a child has pain
because her time has come; but when her baby is born she forgets the anguish
because of her joy that a child is born into the world. </span>John 16:21</div>
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This is the day the Lord has made. Let us rejoice and be
glad in it. Psalm 18:24</div>
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Weeping may remain for a night, but rejoicing comes in the
morning. Psalm 30:5b</div>
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<b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;">Don’t Be Afraid – God
Is With Me and Will Give Me Strength and Peace</b></div>
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“<span class="textjer-1-8">Do not be afraid, for I am
with you and will rescue you,” declares the </span><span class="small-caps"><span style="font-variant: small-caps;">Lord</span></span><span class="textjer-1-8">. </span>Jeremiah
1:8</div>
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<span class="textphil-4-6">Do not be anxious about anything,
but in every situation, by prayer and petition, with thanksgiving, present your
requests to God.</span><span class="textphil-4-7"><sup> </sup>And the peace
of God, which transcends all understanding, will guard your hearts and your
minds in Christ Jesus. </span>Philippians 4:6-7</div>
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<span class="textps-27-1">The </span><span class="small-caps"><span style="font-variant: small-caps;">Lord</span></span><span class="textps-27-1"> is
my light and my salvation — whom shall I fear? The </span><span class="small-caps"><span style="font-variant: small-caps;">Lord</span></span><span class="textps-27-1"> is the stronghold of my life — of whom shall I be afraid? </span>Psalm
27:1</div>
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<span class="textisa-12-2">Surely God is my salvation; I will
trust and not be afraid. The </span><span class="small-caps"><span style="font-variant: small-caps;">Lord</span></span><span class="textisa-12-2">,
the </span><span class="small-caps"><span style="font-variant: small-caps;">Lord</span></span><span class="textisa-12-2"> himself, is my strength and my defense; he has become my
salvation. ”</span>Isaiah 12:2</div>
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<span class="textisa-41-10">"So do not fear, for I am with you;
do not be dismayed, for I am your God. I will strengthen you and help you; I
will uphold you with my righteous right hand." </span>Isaiah 41:10</div>
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God is our refuge and strength, an ever-present help in
trouble. Therefore we will not fear, though the earth give way and the
mountains fall into the heart of the sea, though its waters roar and foam and
the mountains quake with their surging. Psalm 46:1-3</div>
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The Lord is my rock, my fortress and my deliverer; my God is
my rock, in whom I take refuge. He is my shield and the horn of my salvation,
my stronghold. Psalm 18:2</div>
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“Fear not, for I have redeemed you; I have called you by
name; you are mine. When you pass through the waters, I will be with you; and
when you pass through the rivers, they will not sweep over you. When you walk
through the fire, you will not be burned; the flames will not set you ablaze.”
Isaiah 43:1-2</div>
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“Have I not commanded you? Be strong and courageous. Do not
be terrified; do not be discouraged, for the Lord your God will be with you
wherever you go.” Joshua 1:9</div>
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<b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;">God Gives Comfort </b></div>
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<span class="textps-34-4">I sought the </span><span class="small-caps"><span style="font-variant: small-caps;">Lord</span></span><span class="textps-34-4">, and he answered me; he delivered me from all my fears. </span><span class="textps-34-5"><sup> </sup>Those who look to him are radiant; their
faces are never covered with shame. </span>Psalm 34:4-5</div>
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<br /></div>
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<span class="textisa-40-11">He tends his flock like a
shepherd: He gathers the lambs in his arms and carries them close to his heart;
he gently leads those that have young. </span>Isaiah 40:11</div>
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<span class="text1pet-5-7">Cast all your anxiety on Him
because he cares for you. </span>1 Peter 5:8</div>
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<span class="textisa-26-3">You will keep in perfect peace
those whose minds are steadfast, because they trust in you. Isaiah 26:3 </span><span class="textisa-26-4"><sup> </sup></span></div>
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<span class="small-caps"><span style="font-variant: small-caps;">Lord</span></span><span class="textisa-26-12">, you establish peace for us;</span><span class="indent-1-breaks"> </span><span class="textisa-26-12">all that we have
accomplished you have done for us. Isaiah 26:12</span></div>
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<span class="textisa-26-12">“</span><span class="woj">Peace I
leave with you; my peace I give you. I do not give to you as the world gives.
Do not let your hearts be troubled and do not be afraid.” </span><span class="textisa-26-12">John 14:27</span></div>
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<span class="woj">“Come to me, all you who are weary and
burdened, and I will give you rest. Take my yoke upon you and learn from me,
for I am gentle and humble in heart, and you will find rest for your souls.” </span><span class="textisa-26-12">Matthew 11:28-29</span></div>
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<span class="textps-4-1">Answer me when I call to you, my
righteous God. Give me relief from my distress; have mercy on me and hear my
prayer. </span><span class="textisa-26-12">Psalm 4:1</span></div>
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For he has not despised or disdained the suffering of the
afflicted one; he has not hidden his face from him but has listened to his cry
for help. Psalm 22:24</div>
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<div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: inherit;">
The Lord is a refuge for the oppressed, a stronghold in
times of trouble. Psalm 9:9</div>
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<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: inherit;">
He will cover you with his feathers, and under his wings you
will find refuge; his faithfulness will be your shield and rampart. Psalm 91:4</div>
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<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: inherit;">
You are my hiding place; you will protect me from trouble
and surround me with songs of deliverance. Selah Psalm 32:7</div>
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<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: inherit;">
You hear, O Lord, the desire of the afflicted; you encourage
them, and you listen to their cry. Psalm 10:17<span class="textisa-26-12"></span></div>
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<b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;">Trust God</b></div>
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<span class="textrom-8-28">We know that in all things God
works for the good of those who love him, who have been called according to his
purpose. </span>Romans 8:28</div>
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<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: inherit;">
<span class="textprov-3-5">Trust in the </span><span class="small-caps"><span style="font-variant: small-caps;">Lord</span></span><span class="textprov-3-5"> with all your heart and lean not on your own understanding;</span>
<span class="textprov-3-6">in all your ways submit to him, and he will make your
paths straight. </span>Proverbs 3:5-6</div>
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<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: inherit;">
<span class="textisa-26-4">Trust in the </span><span class="small-caps"><span style="font-variant: small-caps;">Lord</span></span><span class="textisa-26-4"> forever, for the </span><span class="small-caps"><span style="font-variant: small-caps;">Lord</span></span><span class="textisa-26-4">,
the </span><span class="small-caps"><span style="font-variant: small-caps;">Lord</span></span><span class="textisa-26-4"> himself, is the Rock eternal. </span>Isaiah 26:4</div>
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<div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: inherit;">
Blessed is the man who makes the Lord his trust. Psalm 40:</div>
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<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: inherit;">
<b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"> He
has a plan for me…</b></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: inherit;">
<span class="textps-139-13">For you created my inmost being;
you knit me together in my mother’s womb. </span><span class="textps-139-14">I
praise you because I am fearfully and wonderfully made; your works are
wonderful, I know that full well. M</span><span class="textps-139-15">y frame was
not hidden from you when I was made in the secret place</span><span class="indent-1-breaks"> </span><span class="textps-139-15">when I was woven
together in the depths of the earth. </span><span class="textps-139-16">Your eyes
saw my unformed body; all the days ordained for me were written in your book</span>
<span class="textps-139-16">before one of them came to be. </span><span class="textps-139-17">How precious to me are your thoughts, God! </span>Psalm
139:13-17</div>
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<div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: inherit;">
<span class="textjer-1-5">“Before I formed you in the womb I
knew you, </span><span class="indent-1-breaks"> </span><span class="textjer-1-5">before you were born I set you apart.” </span>Jeremiah 1:5</div>
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<span class="textjer-29-11"><br />
“For I know the plans I have for you,” declares the </span><span class="small-caps"><span style="font-variant: small-caps;">Lord</span></span><span class="textjer-29-11">, “plans to prosper you and not to harm you, plans to give
you hope and a future. </span><span class="textjer-29-12">Then you will call on me
and come and pray to me, and I will listen to you.</span> <span class="textjer-29-13">You will seek me and find me when you seek me with all your
heart. </span><span class="textjer-29-14">I will be found by you,” declares the </span><span class="small-caps"><span style="font-variant: small-caps;">Lord</span></span><span class="textjer-29-14">. </span>Jeremiah 29:11-14</div>
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<b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;">God Will Provide All
I need</b></div>
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<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: inherit;">
<span class="textphil-4-19">God will meet all your needs
according to the riches of his glory in Christ Jesus. </span>Philippians 4:19</div>
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<br /></div>
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<span class="textisa-58-11">The </span><span class="small-caps"><span style="font-variant: small-caps;">Lord</span></span><span class="textisa-58-11">
will guide you always; he will satisfy your needs in a sun-scorched land </span><span class="textisa-58-11">and will strengthen your frame. You will be like a
well-watered garden, like a spring whose waters never fail. </span>Isaiah 58:11</div>
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<br /></div>
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<b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;">God Is Faithful</b></div>
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<br /></div>
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<span class="textisa-46-3">“Listen to me, Erin, you whom I
have upheld since your birth, and have carried since you were born. </span><span class="textisa-46-4">Even to your old age and gray hairs I am He, I am he who
will sustain you. I have made you
and I will carry you; I will sustain you and I will rescue you.” </span>Isaiah
46:3-4</div>
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<br /></div>
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<b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;">God Will Fight for Me
and Protect Me</b></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: inherit;">
The Lord is my strength and my defense; he has become my
salvation. He is my God, and I will praise him, my father’s God, and I will
exalt him. The Lord is a warrior; the Lord is his name. Exodus 15:2-3</div>
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<br /></div>
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<span class="textps-34-7">The angel of the </span><span class="small-caps"><span style="font-variant: small-caps;">Lord</span></span><span class="textps-34-7"> encamps around those who fear him,</span> <span class="textps-34-7">and he delivers them. Psalm 34:7</span></div>
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<br /></div>
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<b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;">Bless Your Child</b></div>
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But from everlasting to everlasting the LORD’s love is with
those who fear him, and his righteousness with their children’s children— with
those who keep his covenant and remember to obey his precepts. Psalm 103:17-18 </div>
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<br /></div>
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<span class="text1sam-1-27"><sup> </sup>I prayed for this
child, and the </span><span class="small-caps"><span style="font-variant: small-caps;">Lord</span></span><span class="text1sam-1-27"> has granted me what I asked of him.</span><span class="text1sam-1-28"><sup> </sup>So now I give him to the </span><span class="small-caps"><span style="font-variant: small-caps;">Lord</span></span><span class="text1sam-1-28">. For his whole life he will be given over to the </span><span class="small-caps"><span style="font-variant: small-caps;">Lord</span></span><span class="text1sam-1-28">. </span>1 Samuel 1:27-38</div>
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<br /></div>
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<b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;">Bring Glory to God</b></div>
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A<span class="textcol-3-17">nd whatever you do, whether in
word or deed, do it all in the name of the Lord Jesus, giving thanks to God the
Father through him. </span>Colossians 3:17</div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: inherit;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: inherit;">
<span class="textphil-4-8">Finally, brothers and sisters,
whatever is true, whatever is noble, whatever is right, whatever is pure,
whatever is lovely, whatever is admirable—if anything is excellent or
praiseworthy—think about such things … a</span><span class="textphil-4-9">nd the
God of peace will be with you. </span>Philippians 4:8-9</div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: inherit;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: inherit;">
<span class="textps-46-10">Be still, and know that I am God; I
will be exalted among the nations, I will be exalted in the earth. </span>Psalm
46:10</div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: inherit;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: inherit;">
<span class="text1pet-5-8">Be alert and of sober mind. Your
enemy the devil prowls around like a roaring lion looking for someone to
devour.</span> <span class="text1pet-5-9">Resist him, standing
firm in the faith, because you know that the family of believers throughout the
world is undergoing the same kind of sufferings. </span>1 Peter 5:8-9</div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: inherit;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: inherit;">
Not only so, but we also rejoice in our sufferings, because
we know that suffering produces perseverance; perseverance, character; and
character, hope. Romans 5:3-4</div>Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05407825751018840480noreply@blogger.com6tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1989590509648610688.post-33316731639701980952011-10-13T16:53:00.011-05:002012-01-03T16:55:39.818-06:00Not So Breaking News Flash<span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;">September 2011, I received some news. Two lines on an early pregnancy test I took at 5 a.m. (That equals PREGNANT, for those wondering.)<br /><br />We had been trying since April. During that time, I had dreamed of the elaborate, sentimental, meaningful way I might reveal a positive pregnancy to Tanner. Some kind of greeting card to Dad. A father and child figurine or bronze. A fortune inserted in a fortune cookie. An interpretive dance to "The Circle of Life" from the <span style="font-style: italic;">Lion King</span>.<br /><br />But when those two pink lines materialized, that all went out the window. Boom! Bathroom door flew open. Light flooded our bed and pierced Tanner's previously peacefully slumbering eyeballs.<br /><br />"Tanner! I'm pregnant."<br /><br />Not the romantic scene I had envisioned, but, still, memorable. Anyways, a lot has happened since then. I'm 15 wks, or 4 months, pregnant. A lot of the expectations I had for my pregnancy -- just like expectations for life in general and for this blog, for example -- went out the window when an insane work schedule and overwhelming morning sickness simultaneously took over my life. The journaling, pregnancy-book reading, prenatal yoga-ing and all the other plans I had imagined for my ultimate, total, PERFECT (that's reasonable) pregnancy experience sort of melted into a puddle of... well, you can imagine.<br /><br />Now, things have started to slow down at work, and as I've entered my second trimester (weeks 15-27 or months 4-6), I've found myself with some extra time and energy to do so many of the things I had hoped I would do during my first pregnancy.<br /><br /><span style="font-weight: bold;">Exercise</span>. A four-mile walk seems like the ideal first pregnancy workout after weeks of vomitting and laying immobile on the couch/bed/floor/back of my truck, right? I had a great walk with the dogs, but was amazed at how out of shape I felt! It's amazing that just months earlier I could run three times that distance without stopping! This time, I had to pack a backpack of snacks and water and stop at every since bench on the trail to rest. I felt embarrassingly sore the next day. OK, I'm still sore four days later.<br /><br /><span style="font-weight: bold;">Journal</span>. Over Christmas, my mom brought the baby book and keepsake box she kept during her pregnancy with me. I remember loving to go through these things when I was little – flipping through pages of Mom's belly photos, news paper clippings (<span style="font-style: italic;">Splash</span> was the top movie the day I was born!) and notes and pulling out the envelopes with my first tooth and lock of hair. I still love reading all she wrote in her beautiful cursive handwriting. It reminded me that, not only am I a writer and crave writing about my memories, feelings, thoughts, and experiences, but also what a treasure it will be for our child to someday read these things. I also received a pregnancy journal from out neighbor that helped jump start my own writing. I'm not going to waste any time feeling guilty about all the weeks of writing I missed out on. Instead, it's full steam ahead from here. Bring on the belly photos and documentation of every burp, baby movement and emotional meltdown!<br /><br /><span style="font-weight: bold;">Reading</span>. An extended vacation between Christmas and New Years gave me some treasured time to catch up on my pregnancy-related reading – much if it I did camped out by our neighbor's pond with the dogs exploring nearby. (As the distant, non-stop whine of Tanner's tin cutter lulled the neighborhood into a dream sleep/roaring headache.)<br /><br />Despite being slow to the trigger on lots of my preggo plans, there was ONE dream I held true to. A few days after I found out I was pregnant, I wrote a letter to Baby Haynes. I happened to write it on here and save it. And this is that letter:<br /><br /><br /><span style="font-style: italic;">Dear Baby,</span><br /><br /><span style="font-style: italic;">I am so thankful to be writing to you right now. I want to say that I can't believe it. But I do believe. I believe God is greater than I can imagine. I believe He blesses me beyond measure. I believe He never forsakes me. And I believe He heard my prayers, my prayers for you!</span> <span style="font-style: italic;">Baby, I have been praying for you for months. Before you were born, before you were even conceived, I loved you with all my heart. And I can tell you right now, before I've even met you, before you've taken shape, I will love you forever. There is nothing you can do to stop me from loving you.</span><br /><br /><span style="font-style: italic;">Right now, you're only the size of a poppy seed. This will be hard to imagine once you are here and in our arms. Even now, as you're just a tiny ball of cells, God has numbered your days. He has a plan and a purpose for you. For that reason, I can carry you and embark on this pregnancy without fear or worry. My God has this all under control. He will work all things to bring glory to Himself and to be for my good, because He loves me. I pray that you will receive Him in all His grace and love, and seek His will for your life. I will always pray this for you.</span><br /><br /><span style="font-style: italic;">Your Dad and I have been trying to get pregnant since about April. At that time, God helped us to realize some important truths in a deeper way. First, not one day is promised, and second, while we're here on earth, life is all about relationships, and some of the most treasured are with our family. We realized that we had enjoyed a year and a half of marriage together, a season for ourselves to spend time together loving life as husband and wife, but we were ready to live for more than just ourselves. We were ready and eager to start a family, to experience that blessing and enjoy that one-of-a-kind relationship. We were ready to pour our lives and our love into a child. We had no more fear of, "What will life be like? Can we handle the change? Will we be able to do the things we used to enjoy with a child in tow? Are we ready?" Instead, our hearts and minds changed and we were ready for you! And now you're on your way. I love you so much already.</span> <span style="font-style: italic;"><br /><br />For several months, we tried to conceive. At first, this was a very enjoyable process, especially for Dad. (Someday you will be old enough to think this is TMI and superly, seriously gross.) Five months passed, and we did not conceive, but people all around me were getting pregnant like rabbits. I started to to feel frustrated. God reached out to me through prayer time on my long runs (I was training for a half-marathon). I realized that God's will was my true desire. Looking at other people and longing to experience what they were experiencing was NOT my calling. That was God's will for their life, not mine. I realized that I craved His plan for my own life. I would never be fulfilled seeking a plan other than God's. Although I still had moments of struggle, He gave me a great peace, a peace like I have never experienced before. And then, after I turned over my plans to Him and trusted Him, He gave me you!</span> <span style="font-style: italic;"><br /><br />My mom and dad came up to visit last weekend to help us work on the house and to (belatedly) celebrate our 2-year wedding anniversary. I took an early pregnancy test before they got here, and it was negative. We had a great weekend walking the dogs (your "brothers," Happy and Digger), running errands around town, going out to lunch at Yesterday's in Weatherford and dinner at Eddie V's in downtown Fort Worth, going to church and getting supplies and getting started on the wood planks for the ceiling. I talked with Mom about how I was not able to get pregnant yet, and she told me that she and Dianne had been praying for me. Mom and Dad left on Monday morning, and Wednesday morning, on a whim, I took another test. It was positive! I was so used to seeing that one line, that when I saw the second one developing, I started shaking. I burst from the bathroom, throwing an unwelcome beam of light on your Dad's face, and told him, "Tanner, I'm pregnant!" He said simply (and groggily), "Are you really?" And it went from there. All the way on the way to work, I thanked God for you. My prayers were answered.</span><br /><br /><span style="font-style: italic;">I told a couple best friends, also mothers, who are already lifting you up and helping me by giving my pregnancy information. I'm not supposed to eat lunch meat?? Weird. Next, we will tell your Grandma and Grandpa Haynes and Sullivan and Mindy and Tye and Kathleen. I know you will be a blessing to our whole family. Your very existence will bring so much joy. Baby, you are already surrounded by such love.</span> <span style="font-style: italic;"><br /><br />For now, we are going to keep working away on our fixer-upper home. Getting it ready for your arrival in June of next year! We have a lot to do. New floors, new ceiling, new bathroom, kitchen, everything! But the thing that truly makes a house a home is already there -- love.</span> <span style="font-style: italic;">For now, I'm feeling different. I don't know if it's the power of suggestion, or what, but I feel VERY tired. The baby website Jenna told me to check out says you are the size of a poppy seed, well I feel like Dorothy from the </span>Wizard of Oz<span style="font-style: italic;"> after she ran through the field of poppies. (Kathleen will make sure you know this reference very well).<br /><br />Just remember, Baby, the depth of love your Dad and I have for you, as strong as it is, it pales in comparison to the love of God. We can love you only because He first loved us. And He loves you, His precious creation, so much!<br /><br />Love,<br /><br />Your Mom! </span><br /><br /></span>Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05407825751018840480noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1989590509648610688.post-77395071042450392492011-09-09T22:40:00.006-05:002011-09-09T23:59:34.767-05:00Say What?<span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;">This blog has not quite been what I've imagined it would be. I thought I would keep my family and friends posted on our wildly exciting and entertaining lives as newlyweds (and possibly entertain hapless strangers who stumble upon this website) at least on a weekly basis, maybe even more frequently. I also thought it would serve as a digital diary for us and our future clan of 2-8 children (that is either two-point-eight or two-to-eight, depending on who you ask).<br /><br />Instead, it's been a proverbial catch-all bib (you know, the rubber ones with the little pocket scoop on the bottom) for my random life-update, recipe-detailing, run-documenting, story-telling and opinion-sharing vomit. The word-spewage has been much like a stomach bug -- unpredictable, My posts have ranged in frequency from once every four months to several within a few days' time. The blog is far less painful and unpleasant than a stomach bug, although it has felt like an unwelcome burden at times. It is, albeit, a burden I signed up for. But it's kind of like that yellow curry that at the time sounded like it would be great followed by chocolate ice cream and and wine and the Boy Scout brand cheesey popcorn... not so much.<br /><br />Really, I like blogging, but I'm infrequent. There have been lots of adventures over the past two years I'd have liked to chronicle, old stories I'd like to tell, delicious recipes, home improvement projects and running progress I'd like to share and deep thoughts I'd like to bestow. I have lots of great ideas, but I simply lack time. Blogging goes to the bottom of the to-do list after a full day of writing for my magazine at work.<br /><br />I vacillate between backtracking and logging all the vacations, dates, milestones and STUFF (possibly in private posts, to spare you the horror) or just starting fresh and doing better from this point on. But I've recently reached a LONG OVERDUE epiphany that needs to be sorted out before I can commit to anything, or even move off of this couch, really. Good thing I poured a very full glass of wine<br /><br />My epiphany is: I cannot be a full-time journalist, ride horses, train for a marathon, keep an organic vegetable garden, maintain a blog, landscape our house, make a quilt, cook new recipes, do yoga, clean house like a German maniac, train a gun dog and remodel our house all a the same time. I canNOT do it all, and I feel like the little girl who's meanie-butt parents are forcing her to choose EITHER ballet or horseback riding, but NOT both. How rude!<br /><br />As I ponder my life's course through a minefield of hobbies, I leave you with some profound images.<br /></span><div style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size:85%;"><a style="font-family: trebuchet ms;" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjljf8u3s6JJrsD7fPCBohqkJOejLyeQgleRIAFXaNwG5QPUPUysxFUXThUMpATkUnMaHt0cUNyuCEZbrrHYmxX3brc321Q7YRrj-E4ZB3FoUhZAUBXCW1EZulAHx8j-dZp5EdaIi4h0Gk/s1600/Keltie%252C+Erin%252C+Chelsea--silly+faces.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 268px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjljf8u3s6JJrsD7fPCBohqkJOejLyeQgleRIAFXaNwG5QPUPUysxFUXThUMpATkUnMaHt0cUNyuCEZbrrHYmxX3brc321Q7YRrj-E4ZB3FoUhZAUBXCW1EZulAHx8j-dZp5EdaIi4h0Gk/s400/Keltie%252C+Erin%252C+Chelsea--silly+faces.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5650577400355489682" border="0" /></a></span><span style="font-size:85%;"><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;">Yes, that is a fever blister that looks like a soul patch.<br /><br /></span></span><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEglkks3yR00_EdwEP2HGSbA_BreBqVYX_LdOPKifRNuQHWE2n8ZxYX2W1rMX3fqLuALSh3sibRwW_huL_9yqb2rzVvKOGZU8XKtvhp_lW4A4YZqZKPe44fV4G8zoM1Yn3hj8pcy4cMJ9H8/s1600/Dodgeball-+I%2527m+scared.JPG"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 265px; height: 400px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEglkks3yR00_EdwEP2HGSbA_BreBqVYX_LdOPKifRNuQHWE2n8ZxYX2W1rMX3fqLuALSh3sibRwW_huL_9yqb2rzVvKOGZU8XKtvhp_lW4A4YZqZKPe44fV4G8zoM1Yn3hj8pcy4cMJ9H8/s400/Dodgeball-+I%2527m+scared.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5650579214280654498" border="0" /></a><span style="font-size:85%;"><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;">About to get creamed in dodge ball.<br /><br /></span></span><span style="font-size:85%;"><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;"><br /><br /></span></span><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhh_FJkMUgO9riZEcgmQUgW6P4Rw_vPofcNJosWUwG1kXKv63qwobqxau4z5D3WTdSHBfZzhc9nVeDW3tu8oaW-GzuoFSfHYkt0vNk7Qz1zEusKaQuQXhFJXV4B5mVuIibl4jLsSnFTG88/s1600/bill+nye+the+science+guy+shirt.JPG"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 267px; height: 400px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhh_FJkMUgO9riZEcgmQUgW6P4Rw_vPofcNJosWUwG1kXKv63qwobqxau4z5D3WTdSHBfZzhc9nVeDW3tu8oaW-GzuoFSfHYkt0vNk7Qz1zEusKaQuQXhFJXV4B5mVuIibl4jLsSnFTG88/s400/bill+nye+the+science+guy+shirt.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5650587494253277074" border="0" /></a><span style="font-size:85%;"><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;">My Periodic Table of Elements shirt, signed by Bill Nye the Science Guy.<br />Radioactive elements glow in the dark. Duh.</span></span><br /></div><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;"><br /></span>Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05407825751018840480noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1989590509648610688.post-78060023146023693202011-08-17T13:52:00.000-05:002011-08-17T13:51:19.335-05:00Eldorado: The Place to Be!<span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;">I would like to tell you more about the West Texas town of Eldorado, where Tanner was born and raised.
<br />
<br /></span><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEim2X-Dt90s-7mlUZI2LGT51Z04vAsn0zVORgG_iofcWcmhaVETNFef12BszM7rmiu69Jeqd-EuaeVwNDT0-SSjAV5OGMrVVylHcF_nIl9xJjmqrNzcybISTpYt3psWT-WuewIgxgxZ0wQ/s1600/sc00e4bf25.jpg"><img style="display: block; margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 289px; height: 400px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEim2X-Dt90s-7mlUZI2LGT51Z04vAsn0zVORgG_iofcWcmhaVETNFef12BszM7rmiu69Jeqd-EuaeVwNDT0-SSjAV5OGMrVVylHcF_nIl9xJjmqrNzcybISTpYt3psWT-WuewIgxgxZ0wQ/s400/sc00e4bf25.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5641886093151230578" border="0" /></a>
<br /><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;">Let’s start with the facts. Eldorado is the county seat of Schleicher County. Eldorado is the only town in Schleicher County. Eldorado is the best town in Schleicher County! Boo-ya! <p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: trebuchet ms;"><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgrk1O7NH1GVtIGdUNSkCYKx_K0jrpcxnhI-7-HcWdmInK2kjCZbyulbfs4nV3Su_ZyGBe8Kd5JH0r5-KTcAq9RC5z9-FfWG0CvlQdGBI1Gd1_F6daxEQLFbTgZd5hsNWbvtUMBsKNx38s/s1600/Eldorado%252C_TX_sign_IMG_1394.JPG"><img style="display: block; margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgrk1O7NH1GVtIGdUNSkCYKx_K0jrpcxnhI-7-HcWdmInK2kjCZbyulbfs4nV3Su_ZyGBe8Kd5JH0r5-KTcAq9RC5z9-FfWG0CvlQdGBI1Gd1_F6daxEQLFbTgZd5hsNWbvtUMBsKNx38s/s320/Eldorado%252C_TX_sign_IMG_1394.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5641545139109320642" border="0" /></a>
<br />The town sits at the top of the Edwards plateau (Welcome to Eldorado: Top of the Divide Elevation 2,439!), and it’s surrounded by plenty of beautiful West Texas landscape -- and deer, lots of 'em. The proof is in the bar ditch, on the side of the road, in the middle of the road and on grill guards, in bits and pieces. The proof is also in the hunters who flock there during deer season.</p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: trebuchet ms;"><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiEQ7lekh7FctRmvzvDbc2yHrBIJj_e6dbyWtB4pr0mB6u4VOuaa7kBgqgURpKyOFx2sZKJhxGRkj1MRW78mOwtVBqw2EYrc2RF3DPFSzexg892ma6CH3NPaCqt7DgkzFw15VtlYTUvb5c/s1600/264805_10100942003629054_8319676_74012183_1455408_n.jpg"><img style="display: block; margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 240px; height: 320px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiEQ7lekh7FctRmvzvDbc2yHrBIJj_e6dbyWtB4pr0mB6u4VOuaa7kBgqgURpKyOFx2sZKJhxGRkj1MRW78mOwtVBqw2EYrc2RF3DPFSzexg892ma6CH3NPaCqt7DgkzFw15VtlYTUvb5c/s320/264805_10100942003629054_8319676_74012183_1455408_n.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5641547076887184434" border="0" /></a></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: trebuchet ms;">
<br />About 1,800 people live in Eldorado. For comparison, my high school in Katy, Texas, has about 1,100 students in each graduating class. But size is not everything. It’s about personality! Or maybe I should say it's about THE personalities. A large part of what makes Eldorado great are the people.
<br /></p></span><div style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;"><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: trebuchet ms;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj_1ZQEc8bVWqGmOoiFtvN-xtkC9CPbrpexnbDDmoSsn9dy2pIBEnDxD_3_o5-JNG6w6H2y2MEuXfAWbCH-zkg85k9PD12m_HjB0icGMnqBt-JlXIeFsFXWm_LJeEnVR9gpZZkkCQzqPzw/s1600/sc00f9caeb.jpg"><img style="display: block; margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 242px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj_1ZQEc8bVWqGmOoiFtvN-xtkC9CPbrpexnbDDmoSsn9dy2pIBEnDxD_3_o5-JNG6w6H2y2MEuXfAWbCH-zkg85k9PD12m_HjB0icGMnqBt-JlXIeFsFXWm_LJeEnVR9gpZZkkCQzqPzw/s400/sc00f9caeb.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5641885195839920466" border="0" /></a><span style="font-size:78%;">Tanner (left) with Matt, Ross and Andrew</span></p></span></div><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;"><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: trebuchet ms;">Most of Tanner's childhood friends are still his closest and most loyal friends today. Built on a foundation of shared experiences, faith, heart-to-hearts and plenty of mudding, hunting, bbq-ing, road trips and farting competitions, those friendships that have survived going off to different colleges, getting married, having babies and settling down in various big cities and small towns are priceless. Relationships like those are one of life's greatest treasures, and for Tanner, those treasures began and grew in his home town.
<br /></p></span><div style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;"><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: trebuchet ms;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg2JOBJITztkBl75p-nZV34rFxwYP6wHxrC0CbJUrQWKukZHrM13qwhvO_cCU1HlBdhqUoqnXOw38S9PCRy7aU1DbkqVrlwuCifYsP31PqxW66FtWJtfMBccyH7843Aixk8a2xgXB1TF7E/s1600/sc00f8fe4b.jpg"><img style="display: block; margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 272px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg2JOBJITztkBl75p-nZV34rFxwYP6wHxrC0CbJUrQWKukZHrM13qwhvO_cCU1HlBdhqUoqnXOw38S9PCRy7aU1DbkqVrlwuCifYsP31PqxW66FtWJtfMBccyH7843Aixk8a2xgXB1TF7E/s400/sc00f8fe4b.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5641889121509555282" border="0" /></a><span style="font-size:78%;">Eldorado Eagles - Class of 2002!</span></p></span></div><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;"><p face="trebuchet ms" class="MsoNormal">Eldorado was small and safe, so boys could be wild, adventurous and out on their own without parents worrying. It was remote and and surrounded by rugged, beautiful country, so it was the perfect place for hunting, off-road excursions, swimming-hole trips, and camping. It was tight-knit, a real community, so that your friends' parents simply became your second parents, letting you sleepover and raid their pantry, carting you around and cheering you on at games (or complimenting the "interesting" things you made in welding class, in Tanner's and Jason's cases). </p></span><div style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;"><p face="trebuchet ms" class="MsoNormal"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhiT_RLKeckQJpvzmSdyGGtWABpo-f4EEDyRbj1jZmeB1w-Af7FZzbVObb1e4cy66jT0m5d_5N9Rsa9kyOoLt3knlxj3BAB8KnIRkNFYRI9V1PLI8eghiz44zhTVV3frzuIjXuUwm9cqfw/s1600/sc00825d1b.jpg"><img style="display: block; margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 257px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhiT_RLKeckQJpvzmSdyGGtWABpo-f4EEDyRbj1jZmeB1w-Af7FZzbVObb1e4cy66jT0m5d_5N9Rsa9kyOoLt3knlxj3BAB8KnIRkNFYRI9V1PLI8eghiz44zhTVV3frzuIjXuUwm9cqfw/s400/sc00825d1b.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5641889628694149938" border="0" /></a><span style="font-size:78%;">Scott (left), Andrew and Tanner head off on a road trip</span></p></span></div><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;"><p face="trebuchet ms" class="MsoNormal">Growing up in Eldorado was like growing up surrounded by your extended family. It's an extended family that celebrates with you or takes care of you when your struggling. It's a family that follows you even when you leave Eldorado. It's a family welcomes your wives, husbands and children with open arms.
<br /></p></span><div style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;"><p face="trebuchet ms" class="MsoNormal"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi-dEWuiUpscCrCvobvaN-diu0YH2nWIJSqm1TcfOcIvs93nI2fQuhckE5AoAcQZgmio3z4FPpi6XfYu2LmhHqpNDLO1owLh5qOn4aOeYLoiztkBVyVre343vXWnoECL5LAjib8Fq3zwa4/s1600/sc0081c3c3.jpg"><img style="display: block; margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 267px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi-dEWuiUpscCrCvobvaN-diu0YH2nWIJSqm1TcfOcIvs93nI2fQuhckE5AoAcQZgmio3z4FPpi6XfYu2LmhHqpNDLO1owLh5qOn4aOeYLoiztkBVyVre343vXWnoECL5LAjib8Fq3zwa4/s400/sc0081c3c3.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5641890021388318146" border="0" /></a><span style="font-size:78%;">One big family </span></p><div style="text-align: left;">I love Eldorado because it had a huge part in making Tanner who he is, and I love who he is! Outdoorsy, country, adventurous, fearless, mechanical, tough, fiercely loyal, loving, hard working and with a great sense of humor and passion for life!
<br /></div></span></div><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;"><p face="trebuchet ms" class="MsoNormal"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiv4YGzQutmsIq4VoxfSIgoursAOepNe8A4qMuC4IQbp1nOIunYT_9f6I9SPfT6Ka0rUqliNxwXh8WAUoiT6s0-lVUJXf16Dv_qBca2mi6lMDS4PRewLhPh2fjB3col242bbIe78X_tcec/s1600/sc00fe2b50.jpg"><img style="display: block; margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 258px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiv4YGzQutmsIq4VoxfSIgoursAOepNe8A4qMuC4IQbp1nOIunYT_9f6I9SPfT6Ka0rUqliNxwXh8WAUoiT6s0-lVUJXf16Dv_qBca2mi6lMDS4PRewLhPh2fjB3col242bbIe78X_tcec/s400/sc00fe2b50.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5641891423013190482" border="0" /></a></p><p face="trebuchet ms" class="MsoNormal">I love Eldorado because Tanner's friends became such an important part of my life. My best friend, <a href="http://www.stayathomepuppymom.com/">Summer</a>, introduced me to Tanner after she began dating Andrew, one of Tanner's best Eldo buds. Summer and Andrew got married two years before us, are expecting a baby, and despite the fact that they live in Colorado and we don't see them as often as we'd like, Tanner and I could probably say there are few people on earth we feel closer to. Andrew's mom, Liz, also helped me plan my wedding, and his dad, Andy, married me and Tanner.
<br /></p></span><div style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;"><p face="trebuchet ms" class="MsoNormal"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEig5K62hxdLy4dVo2zDzvx0U-RR10jht2TvmZfrGHAw5uSSARtDSbl7FuJOOUzWb442GPotD2N4W2bR4abUFaIdSfkJdfZXSEsBJCe4QYc3YTPFV4QLWhBk9RHZ8PbAYRhyphenhyphen69kBa9CFzbA/s1600/P5270058.JPG"><img style="display: block; margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 300px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEig5K62hxdLy4dVo2zDzvx0U-RR10jht2TvmZfrGHAw5uSSARtDSbl7FuJOOUzWb442GPotD2N4W2bR4abUFaIdSfkJdfZXSEsBJCe4QYc3YTPFV4QLWhBk9RHZ8PbAYRhyphenhyphen69kBa9CFzbA/s400/P5270058.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5641892279770076690" border="0" /></a><span style="font-size:78%;">Tanner and I with Andrew and Summer</span></p></span></div><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;"><p face="trebuchet ms" class="MsoNormal">And that's just the tip of the iceberg. It doesn't end there or anywhere near it! Tanner lived with Andrew, Jason, Thomas and Scott all through college. The stories of Jason and Tanner together as little boys are hilarious, and those two are so alike, it's scary. Jason and Tanner have inhaled welding fumes side-by-side for years, and now they work side-by-side in the oilfield at the same company! Jason and his wife, Susannah, are two of our go-to people in Weatherford for everything from a fun night out to "Can you please feed the horses?" And we know we even could on Jason's parent's, who live close by, for a favor anytime if needed to.
<br /></p></span><div style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;"><p face="trebuchet ms" class="MsoNormal"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEix1bWOHRqCMMTjsQ3JPH95Nbqn6dt1St4T5-ANili-VRiv6wjJmT-kjpwPWtdd4I4tnstrB3A2f5S-c-MIcMbo6y0TWLTlJXONHhgGdFwUVnYHUDq5uBgKsHu0lPybsA9Xsa3RSu-7pxs/s1600/sc00f1b005.jpg"><img style="display: block; margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 284px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEix1bWOHRqCMMTjsQ3JPH95Nbqn6dt1St4T5-ANili-VRiv6wjJmT-kjpwPWtdd4I4tnstrB3A2f5S-c-MIcMbo6y0TWLTlJXONHhgGdFwUVnYHUDq5uBgKsHu0lPybsA9Xsa3RSu-7pxs/s400/sc00f1b005.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5641892905951316882" border="0" /></a><span style="font-size:78%;">Then</span></p></span></div><div style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;"><p face="trebuchet ms" class="MsoNormal"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjgD8TM8unoEXqkPvv54xRmYhnCWvFS8zXS-sx898GWQKvcejRRqOTwo2VPSQG_tNvznwnVlgDM5Fn8t0ePcO6De0CWsSApALsQfAn8M_IIb_P7Qe9DrXQnWkpxtKNX3TaAs9E0Z9CHSmA/s1600/P6180390.JPG"><img style="display: block; margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 300px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjgD8TM8unoEXqkPvv54xRmYhnCWvFS8zXS-sx898GWQKvcejRRqOTwo2VPSQG_tNvznwnVlgDM5Fn8t0ePcO6De0CWsSApALsQfAn8M_IIb_P7Qe9DrXQnWkpxtKNX3TaAs9E0Z9CHSmA/s400/P6180390.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5641892910235022450" border="0" /></a><span style="font-size:78%;">And now </span></p><div style="text-align: left;">Although Thomas passed away in 2005, I feel like he is with us both everyday. I can't imagine my life without his family, the Ballew family, in it, and I love popping over to see Ray and Debbie -- and which ever kiddo happens to be in town -- most every time we go to Eldo.</div></span></div><div style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;"><p face="trebuchet ms" class="MsoNormal"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj1Y6monK0z6rbvjvt2g_MwwvK9ji338FCrx6cHxZ_zehSExQ6xxonckfvPSfXkLaK9-B8yrtXGtlmPzg15e_HYSv5m0pJPttvSEA4rt0wZshZGYXN9iy8PgkLiBCpQQV2mFKsGp512LSg/s1600/sc00f8b7e7.jpg"><img style="display: block; margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 270px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj1Y6monK0z6rbvjvt2g_MwwvK9ji338FCrx6cHxZ_zehSExQ6xxonckfvPSfXkLaK9-B8yrtXGtlmPzg15e_HYSv5m0pJPttvSEA4rt0wZshZGYXN9iy8PgkLiBCpQQV2mFKsGp512LSg/s400/sc00f8b7e7.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5641893703287208226" border="0" /></a><span style="font-size:78%;">Andrea, Tanner and Thomas in college</span></p></span></div><div style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;"><p face="trebuchet ms" class="MsoNormal"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjUjIZEH5USk4cZXTeC4pCmPoD8h40wJIMXqAfH4sOlpRtmj-XbbCzE8QhOloQoPA-YHd9iutFTYobKMDjKx5_mti1NheDgijmShUDiawbDPlTPLej42IBuQ1ohR5uWMtFfas-7Zx5LKuo/s1600/Erin%2527s+Shower+025.jpg"><img style="display: block; margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 300px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjUjIZEH5USk4cZXTeC4pCmPoD8h40wJIMXqAfH4sOlpRtmj-XbbCzE8QhOloQoPA-YHd9iutFTYobKMDjKx5_mti1NheDgijmShUDiawbDPlTPLej42IBuQ1ohR5uWMtFfas-7Zx5LKuo/s400/Erin%2527s+Shower+025.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5641896823061220066" border="0" /></a><span style="font-size:78%;">With Debbie and Ray at my bridal shower, hosted by the First Presbyterian Church
<br /></span></p><div style="text-align: left;">I could go on an on. From Wesley and Matt meeting us out at the River House whenever we're in New Braunfels to catching up with Jeff and his beautiful new wife, Lori, at Summer's baby shower in Katy to random visits from Tana or facebook-ing with Hallie, the people of this lil' West Texas town have become such a part of my heart.</div></span></div><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;"><p face="trebuchet ms" class="MsoNormal"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjHzXGXg6q7q7nKQjGvhzx7y3Khk7bQWsvgwKYRrp-OTB8FYg2dfqUVkhq3hSrda1WavFQc4e1jSplsjljWKCBQ6hjwrRPokc0Sz3UvPKCQq5lLDzvj9lljR0cMof1pSxktH7Kztv0UKLk/s1600/16531_10100166892947074_8319676_59824569_5416224_n.jpg"><img style="display: block; margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 267px; height: 400px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjHzXGXg6q7q7nKQjGvhzx7y3Khk7bQWsvgwKYRrp-OTB8FYg2dfqUVkhq3hSrda1WavFQc4e1jSplsjljWKCBQ6hjwrRPokc0Sz3UvPKCQq5lLDzvj9lljR0cMof1pSxktH7Kztv0UKLk/s400/16531_10100166892947074_8319676_59824569_5416224_n.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5641894379190817426" border="0" /></a>But that's all from my perspective. And this is <span style="font-style: italic;">supposed</span> to be a newlywed blog. Contrary to how it may appear at times, I am in fact not married to myself. Ha! I have heard COUNTLESS Eldo memories, recollections, tall tales and highly entertaining stories from Tanner over the six years we have been together. On a recent road trip to none other than Eldorado, I got Tanner started on the subject of home sweet home, then pulled out my laptop and transcribed as he talked. I've done it a few time since then, and I'm putting together a nice compilation of Eldorado stories and childhood memories that I plan to share on <strike>my</strike> our blog.</p><p style="font-family: trebuchet ms;" class="MsoNormal">Be prepared! And keep an eye out for Ye Old Eldorado Stories, because they're good... and the pictures, they're even better!
<br /></p><p style="font-family: trebuchet ms;" class="MsoNormal"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEigPFv7r6aBcRb_BdreiIYYn2aDToEiZybaJhTMzM4u7QvXzVw6IRkl8aY9t_VXvlCjSpiOFSB4APtb3FZ2pgzbUA2XlYE9A_SQlBC0DHxNeUGpJEaDoVUMBurTX_jIJ9tJx70z6Ssnaiw/s1600/sc00f8ccff.jpg"><img style="display: block; margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 270px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEigPFv7r6aBcRb_BdreiIYYn2aDToEiZybaJhTMzM4u7QvXzVw6IRkl8aY9t_VXvlCjSpiOFSB4APtb3FZ2pgzbUA2XlYE9A_SQlBC0DHxNeUGpJEaDoVUMBurTX_jIJ9tJx70z6Ssnaiw/s400/sc00f8ccff.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5641897549103832290" border="0" /></a></p><p style="font-family: trebuchet ms;" class="MsoNormal">
<br /></p><!--[endif]--><o:p style="font-family: trebuchet ms;"></o:p><strike> </strike><p style="font-family: trebuchet ms;" class="MsoNormal"><!--[if !supportEmptyParas]--><strike> <!--[endif]--><o:p></o:p></strike></p><strike> <!--EndFragment--> </strike></span>Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05407825751018840480noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1989590509648610688.post-10649036247020275992011-08-12T15:33:00.005-05:002011-08-15T22:34:15.433-05:00Wild Night<span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;">It all began innocently enough. I was taking a casserole and some other things over to a friend's house. The casserole was Mexican Lasagna 2.0. Mexican Lasagna 1.0, an aberration in my carefully balanced ecosystem of procrastination, was sitting happily in the refrigerator back in Eldorado, which I only realized once I was on the road and about two hours outside of Eldorado.
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<br />"No problem!" my laid-back, level-headed, don't-sweat-the-small-stuff, keeping-it-all-in-perspective self cheerfully thought -– right after I broke into dramatic, heaving sobs and called Tanner on his cell phone to break the awful news of my terrible predicament.
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<br />Anyway, who cares how I got there. The important part is I eventually arrived at, "No problem!" and continued my trip home. I would simply make another casserole that evening and deliver it promptly at 8:30 p.m. as planned.
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<br />The rest of the drive home was uneventful, except for the unwelcome onslaught of PPP -- premature pee problem. Why is it that the body decides it reeeeeally need to go to the bathroom about 30 minutes from your destination? You're sooo close. Close enough so that going to the bathroom seems like an epic pain in the butt, a pesky pimple rearing its ugly head 30 minutes before it's time to leave for prom. But you're also far enough away from home to where there is a legitimate threat of going in your pants. To further complicate matters, I have such a guilty conscious that I can't use a convenience store restroom without purchasing something, and at 30 minutes from my stocked, albeit mouse-infested (a story for another day), pantry at home, buying anything seems like a waste of money.
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<br />Aaaanyway, lest I digress, I made it to my office in the late afternoon without wetting myself, rushed to the grocery store after work, skiddadled home, made the casserole, and headed out to deliver. After forcing my friend to stay on the phone for ten minutes and give me inch-by-inch directions, I arrived with my goods. I filled my arms and headed into the house, expecting to drop everything off, chat for a bit and then hit the road. After all, I had to get back home and pack for my work trip to Oklahoma the next morning. Well, we got into some great conversation, time flew, and it was after 10 p.m. before I made it back to the truck. I grabbed my phone from the console and saw a text message from Tanner, who was back in Eldorado and asking about medication for the dogs.
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<br />"Oh, I'll just give him a ring!" I thought. "I miss him; I want to hear his voice; and my clumsy nubs can't tpye on my iPhone, aywnay."
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<br />Ring. Ring. The call connects.
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<br />Tanner: "WHERE THE HECK HAVE YOU BEEN? WHAT HAVE YOU BEEN DOING? WHERE ARE YOU? WHAT'S GOING ON? WHERE HAVE YOU BEEN? WHAT!!!!???"
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<br />Erin: "Uhhhhh. Hello?"
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<br />Turns out, while I was in lala land <span style="font-style: italic;">without </span>my cellphone, an armed burglary occurred across the pasture from our house. Helicopters with search lights were swooping and criss-crossing over our little country road and the pastures around our house and our neighbors' houses. Our neighbors and close friends, Molly and Rob, had called Tanner. Rob's dad, Glen, is our town's constable. He lives next to Molly and Rob and two places down from us. They had heard on the scanner that the suspect was armed, dangerous and on the run. They knew I was home alone, but saw that my truck was gone and all the lights were out.
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<br />Long story short, an epic phone chain ensued. Molly called me several times. No luck. Then Molly called Tanner, who called me 2 million times and couldn't get a hold of me. Tanner called a guy to get the number of the friend I was visiting. That guy didn't have the number, but he had the number of a girl who did. Tanner called that girl. She gave him the number and then she also tried to call me a few times. Tanner called the friend I was visiting, but my friend didn't recognize the number. I saw him pick at his ringing phone several times with a puzzled look, then put it down. Tanner left him a couple frantic voicemails, then waited it out.
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<br />After two hours of this, I had 4 million missed calls, 3.5 million text messages and a very worried husband. Oops. Well the suspect was still on the run by the time I finally returned to earth, so I decided to go stay with Molly and Rob, who offered me a room for the night. But of course, I needed my toiletries from my house. I had to get up bright and early and catch a ride with Molly to Fort Worth in order to pick up my company truck. No time to dilly dally the next morning. But of course I left my back door unlocked and all my lights off when I went on my errand. Which meant, of course, the constable and his deputy had to search the house before Molly and I went over, just in case the robber had holed up there. Of course, I had left the kitchen dirty and the BRAVO channel on TV and was irrationally paranoid that something horrific like the <span style="font-style: italic;">Real Housewives of Orange County</span> would be blaring at full volume. (For the record, that is NOT what I was watching when I left the house.)
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<br /></span><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;">The house, hay shed and Tanner's shop all got a legit search with flashlights and guns drawn as Molly and I waited in the truck. When I heard the deputy report over the scanner that they were searching the house of "lady on such and such Lane who left her door unlocked," I felt an odd mixture of embarrassment for taking up the police's time, gratitude for having the constable as a friend and neighbor, amazement that I was in a police SUV and relief that he didn't mention anything about the dirty pans on the stove, trashy TV blaring in the living room and mice infestation in the pantry.
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<br />Despite the hectic chain of events, I got my belongings from my house, and everything ended peacefully around midnight with me settling down to sleep in the borrowed bedroom of Molly's and Rob's 5-year-old son. As I dozed off in a shrine to Thomas the Train, I found myself thinking how nice it was to realize how much Tanner cares about me. Next time, though, I'll orchestrate an easier situation through which he can show his affection.
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<br /></span>Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05407825751018840480noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1989590509648610688.post-38017045508661687742011-05-12T13:30:00.009-05:002011-05-18T10:09:31.311-05:00Sweet Stace<span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;">I am so blessed to have not only a great mother who birthed me and raised me and filled me up with so much love it spewed out my ears, but also a wonderful mother-in-law who did all those things for my husband and welcomed me into her family like one of her own.</span><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:'trebuchet ms';"><br /></span><div><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: rgb(0, 0, 238);font-family:Georgia,serif;" ><img src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjsThREnibd50wvlGzKToXWqMwvnoWbZCW1lptmxLvA8j2cEK7MQkfaq85e_2lbuV1ZnNIH7LGXRAK9-EQGvMjcwLHZ4iXh4GZ5UAed13J-y9bEJPSppwUO7oVoLuKIAmd9VIFAGpr9cuk/s400/P7181637.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5606391654708401666" style="display: block; margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 300px;" border="0" /></span></span></div><div style="text-align: center;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style=";font-family:'trebuchet ms';font-size:85%;" >Me and Stacy at my bridal shower<br /></span></div><div style="text-align: center;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style=";font-family:'trebuchet ms';font-size:small;" ><br /></span></div><div><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;">On Mother's Day weekend, Tanner and I went to Eldorado to spend Mother’s Day with Tanner’s mom, Stacy, as well as his dad, Mike, sister, Mindy, and her husband, Tye. Let me tell you something about Eldorado: There is not much to do there. Let me tell you why that is awesome. We end up doing things like piling in bed with Stacy and just talking. We paint each other’s nails, talk about decorating and fashion and do hair (girls only!). We clean gutters, rebuild porch swings and trim trees together (boys only!). We make an event out of going to church. We sit on the porch and chat and pet the cat.<br /><br />That is, until Tanner gets the cat so riled up that it’s attacking everyone. Nothing makes me laugh and fill with fear at the same time like that crazy look cats get – when they flatten their ears to the side and bug their eyes – right before they jump and wrap their front legs around your tender foot and bite the heck out of your big toe. </span></div><div><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;"><br /></span></div><div> <span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;">Now let me tell you something about Stacy. She’s one heck of a woman. Tanner and his Eldorado crew lovingly dubbed her “Sweet Stace” back in the day. She’s tender and nurturing. She smiles, all the time. She takes time to compliment everyone. She writes thoughtful notes. She sends gift cards and pocket money for no special occasion, just because. She calls for no special reason, just to catch up. She asks thoughtful questions. She listens. She cares – about everyone. She never speaks a bad word about anyone.<br /><br /></span></div><div><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgEpEUg_BjBDlfnKswh8y5rQ7MDAWUP2OfsY2y-oqiIwvQKPRB1H5VT3ZG3OzNexBrOkiUNSafy6UoNSy7gh4QmlI4PH_kP0wxE21zmnNIk63xGXR_sZ3c9p3IJHI1aKUKlJTJtwpS2-dc/s1600/16531_10100166748875794_8319676_59819401_3219362_n.jpg"><img style="display: block; margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 267px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgEpEUg_BjBDlfnKswh8y5rQ7MDAWUP2OfsY2y-oqiIwvQKPRB1H5VT3ZG3OzNexBrOkiUNSafy6UoNSy7gh4QmlI4PH_kP0wxE21zmnNIk63xGXR_sZ3c9p3IJHI1aKUKlJTJtwpS2-dc/s400/16531_10100166748875794_8319676_59819401_3219362_n.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5608069682188529970" border="0" /></a></div><div><div style="text-align: center;"> <span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;font-size:85%;">Tanner and Stacy at our wedding</span><br /><br /></div><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;">She’s also one tough cookie. She brought two children into this world – with no medication! – and is there for them every moment of every day. She faithfully supported and carried her family through trials and struggles without complaint. She made a small house, in the early years, a home, and guided four people to peacefully coexist while all sharing one bathroom. A-ma-zing. She works full time, then in her spare time, she helps with the bible study at the church, volunteers with Lions Club and helps several people manage their rental properties, businesses and finances. Despite this busy schedule, every person she runs across feels like they have her undivided attention.</span> </div><div><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;"><br /></span></div><div><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;">Stacys also got faith, and God gave her an extra helping. No matter the circumstance, she does not worry or doubt. She is a rock, but a tender one. During the passing of family members, Stacy is the one who comforts everyone. When someone is sick, Stacy cares for them, and she takes care of the things no one else can. She prays for her family, reads her Bible and lives out her faith in ways great and small.</span> <span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;">She will be the first one to tell you she’s not perfect. No one is; we all know that. But she’s about as close as it gets! </span></div><div><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;"><br /></span></div><div><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;">Every day for Stacy should be Mother’s Day. Unfortunately, we don’t always take the time to tell her how much we love her, so that weekend was a great opportunity to do just that! And we loved every minute of it. </span></div><div><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;"><br /></span></div><div><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: rgb(0, 0, 238);font-family:Georgia, serif;" ><img src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj-YctvmY_F_dmPKf6RfPgkO2NuhpYEGCosJ8kRxlYAAIrQN7A47of2sxIHDovRvAwUCa1M2XxX6xabos2Gkn6bnlX_G8289C5vcg3OPB0iIgbUOOnE5LiEMy_BfczBuO4MoSJ7DRjQxLo/s400/P5080394.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5606389989551105298" style="display: block; margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 300px;" border="0" /></span></span></div><div style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;font-size:85%;"><span class="Apple-style-span">Tanner and Mindy with Stacy on Mother's Day 2011!</span></span></div><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;"><br />This last weekend, Tanner and I had another chance to celebrate another woman who’s conquered the world and more, my mom! We visited my parents, enjoyed the River Haus and had another Mother’s Day! More to come...</span><br /></div>Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05407825751018840480noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1989590509648610688.post-72210423655833221442011-04-15T14:05:00.005-05:002011-09-10T00:03:31.637-05:00Runner's Knee<span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;">Last Sunday, Tanner dropped my off at the trail head in Weatherford. I was nervous. First of all, because I had decided to wear only a sports bra -- no tank top or T-shirt -- and was worried about my <strike>hate</strike> love handles bouncin' around and acting a fool. And they did. I watched them as my shadow ran in front of me.<br /><br />The second reason I was nervous was because I had eaten chicken wings and drank a beer the night before with Andrew and Jenna at Buffalo Wild Wings. My stomach does not like chicken wings and beer. My love handles, however, they need them to survive.<br /><br />The third reason was because after Tanner dropped me off, I was committed to the task before me: running 10.6 miles of wooded trail from Weatherford to Garner. Get a chicken-wing-induced, three alarm stomach flip flop? Too bad. Get attacked by a wild turkey? So sad. Break both your legs, fracture your arms, get a nosebleed and pop your eyeballs out? Oh well. No cell phone. Deal with it. Finish strong!<br /><br />Well, I did finish. The first four miles of the trail were fairly busy, much to my chagrin. My overly excited love handles, just happy to be out and about, were wigglin' and jigglin' and waving "Hi, y'all!" to everyone they passed. After Mile 4, the crowd started to thin out.<br /><br />I had my earphones in and my audiobook playing. It was a beautiful, sunny day. (I have the sports bra tan to prove it!) Reaching Mile 5 was a little bit of a bonk moment, only because it hit me that I was less than half way to my destination. But I knew in reality I could make it at least 8 miles, so I got over it.<br /><br />At about mile 8, I was lectured by a cute, old cyclist man that Tanner and I have seen frequently on the trail about how I should have brought water with me. He pretty much insisted/forced me to drink some of his water, which ended up really being a nice treat for me because I was super thirsty. He then raced off to Garner and gave Tanner, who was waiting for me at the trail head there, the same lecture.<br /><br />By Mile 10 my knees were killing me, but I still felt cardiovascularly great. When I saw Tanner waiting for me at the trail head in Garner, I even found a reserve to sprint gloriously to finish. When I was done showing off, I sat down and couldn't get up. Just kidding. Sort of.<br /><br />I felt great, but I haven't run since then. The pain in my left knee lingered through out the week, and after some research, I'm almost 100 percent positive that I've developed runner's knee. No, this is not a cool, sexy, svelt knee that only the elite running crowd develop. Grossly oversimplified, it's chronic pain resulting from the knee cap not tracking correctly in its groove. There are lots of potential causes listed online that could weaken support around the knee cap or cause it to travel an irregular path, and they read like a checklist of all the reasons I should not be a runner: over-pronation (my feet roll in because they have no arch), wide hips (thanks, German heritage), and poor conformation of the groove the knee cap moves in (should look like a "V", mine looks like an "L" and my kneecap has dislocated three times).<br /><br />So I took this week off, and hit the trail again this evening for a 6-miler. The knee started out creeky, but didn't give me too much trouble. I'm looking into options to manage/prevent the pain as I go back up in my mileage. Because I'd like run far. Far, far away. From my love handles.<br /><br /></span>Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05407825751018840480noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1989590509648610688.post-79011944541546543252011-04-12T09:30:00.005-05:002011-04-15T20:14:57.765-05:00Around the Dinner Table<span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;">I am a perfectionist, a neat freak, and control freak.<br /><br />I know, I know. You're thinking, "<span style="font-style: italic;">Maaaaann</span>, I wish I'd married her. Sounds like a charming, pleasant, laid back kind of gal."<br /><br />Too bad. You missed your chance.<br /><br />The upside is I get all our bills paid on time, my editor doesn't have to correct much when I turn in my stories, and you could eat dinner off our kitchen floor.<br /><br />The downsides, oh, they are like numbering the stars. Or like numbering the June bugs Happy has eaten in the last two day: a lot.<br /><br /><div style="text-align: center;"><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgrScaRTCRJbOh5qsd8r5xfVyNxBiE6vgEXPfKRg_M6X_lTpftZpjWcfOSwEIXlaOqUcfdt6doGSOHzAEGoggvKZIa0DgLr6XjE2HqQyLoZLfoNeKGLXr6D__Ow-v2sX-aHuVq4EwoHJDY/s1600/P3190355.JPG"><img style="display: block; margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgrScaRTCRJbOh5qsd8r5xfVyNxBiE6vgEXPfKRg_M6X_lTpftZpjWcfOSwEIXlaOqUcfdt6doGSOHzAEGoggvKZIa0DgLr6XjE2HqQyLoZLfoNeKGLXr6D__Ow-v2sX-aHuVq4EwoHJDY/s320/P3190355.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5594738845329375282" border="0" /></a><span style="font-size:85%;">What?</span></div><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;"><br />Just one of the downsides is I haven't wanted to have people over to our house until it's finished, just so, <span style="font-style: italic;">perfect</span>. Like, after I scrape all the popcorn off the ceiling, repaint, tear up the 1980's carpet and lay down wood floors, replace the rotting trim, install crown molding, pull up all the weeds outside, hang stuff on the walls and replace all the generic pictures that came in the frames with pictures of our own, fabulous selves.<br /><br />A week or so ago, our friends <a href="http://borne4this.blogspot.com/">Andrew and Jenna</a> invited us over to their house for dinner. It was so sweet, so thoughtful and so old-fashioned hospitable of them! We had such a great time. Jenna made tacos and smores bars, we sat around and chatted and looked at the adorable wardrobe accumulating for soon-to-be-born Baby Borne, and the boys went outside and made fires.<br /><br />I left thinking, "We have to do this again!" You know, at their cute house. The one with decorations and pictures of people who actually live there in the frames. How many times could we eat there before they would start to wonder if we lived in a van or had 18 cats or really were the couple they thought they recognized on <span style="font-style: italic;">Hoarders</span>.<br /><br />Then I got to thinking. What we loved about that night with the Bornes was the fellowship, the sharing stories, the laughter, working together, whether in the kitchen or out in the shop. Jenna's home is precious, and she should be proud of it. The comfy surroundings added to the joy of the night, but it wasn't what made it. What truly made it was just being able to be loved on by our friends and enjoy time together. It was the act of Jenna and Andrew welcoming us into their home that warmed our hearts, the fact that the home was adorned so nicely and kept so well by Jenna was just a bonus. Besides, there are probably imperfections Jenna sees in her home that her guests would never notice. (Or, it just makes me feel better to think that.)<br /><br />So I decided funky carpet, popcorn, junk room and all, I wanted to welcome the Bornes to our home and hopefully give them the same joy they gave us. </span><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;">So, last night, they joined us at the Haynes house for dinner.<br /><br /></span><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEieSSiRSv_xNxjufx8FDjAdywJSRP2Qn-GwqA9f70lfgyWpGKz1GEuXedDLdnyGNyNAkqMt-UC8ZA04PO1c4-o8N3R7cFJXtfSrQ1FBHpidj9jKx0T6eMFVcEvrvollhsklB-iqIs6zZsg/s1600/P4110370.JPG"><img style="display: block; margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEieSSiRSv_xNxjufx8FDjAdywJSRP2Qn-GwqA9f70lfgyWpGKz1GEuXedDLdnyGNyNAkqMt-UC8ZA04PO1c4-o8N3R7cFJXtfSrQ1FBHpidj9jKx0T6eMFVcEvrvollhsklB-iqIs6zZsg/s320/P4110370.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5594738849130984082" border="0" /></a><br /><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;">Don't get me wrong, I went into manic mode and cleaned the house from top to bottom the day before they came. Tanner caught a dose of my crazy too. But it was nice to know I was cleaning it not so I could get a gold star on my OCD chart, but to make it welcoming for our friends. Life is to be shared after all! Faults and all, we're proud of our home. I'm proud of how hard Tanner has worked and how fiscally wise he's been so that we could afford this home. Mostly, I'm grateful for God blessing us with this house and such wonderful friends to welcome to it.<br /><br /></span><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiEfF4orejvGPenFeCHAHEfzwOhyphenhyphenEndqJdCmbcdUcTklrWcscf67CrOIuIoTi0ME7L4NaVlQkg2RTS3eKaTS9RnQ_iKsgDqxHw0yV_ScoUiMzC6suRikDxPMNwCzZOIbM_aGBQcrh4Y5bA/s1600/P4110371.JPG"><img style="display: block; margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiEfF4orejvGPenFeCHAHEfzwOhyphenhyphenEndqJdCmbcdUcTklrWcscf67CrOIuIoTi0ME7L4NaVlQkg2RTS3eKaTS9RnQ_iKsgDqxHw0yV_ScoUiMzC6suRikDxPMNwCzZOIbM_aGBQcrh4Y5bA/s320/P4110371.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5594738853211772290" border="0" /></a><br /><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;">We made cheesy tortellini casserole (Tanner's favorite), Jenna brought a delicious spinach salad, and the boys grilled up some monster steaks. Butterscotch cookies warm out of the oven were enjoyed with fresh roasted coffee - Jenna roasted the raw beans that day! Us girls chatted around the dining room table and the boys played outside with Andrew's potato gun. From what I could tell, everyone was comfortable and happy, and no one noticed the creaky floorboard where we hide our collection of embalmed medical specimens.<br /><br />JUST KIDDING!<br /></span></span>Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05407825751018840480noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1989590509648610688.post-39057011685074067032011-03-28T16:29:00.005-05:002011-03-28T17:12:32.556-05:00Sweet Dreams and Beauty Cream<span style="font-family: trebuchet ms;">Recently, Tanner has made several comments about my nighttime routine. They go something like this: “What the HECK are you DOING in there?”</span><br /><br /><span style="font-family: trebuchet ms;">The first few times, I answered him literally.<br />“Well, I’m currently staring at myself in the mirror and sucking in and flexing my “abs” and rearranging my belly and hip pudge so I can get an idea of what I could potentially look like if I stopped eating a pecan praline, four Girl Scout cookies and one square of dark chocolate a day.”</span><br /><br /><span style="font-family: trebuchet ms;">Then I realized he was trying to make a point. I hate it when they do that. </span><br /><br /><span style="font-family: trebuchet ms;">The point being, what could anyone <span style="font-style: italic;">possibly</span> be doing in the bathroom that would take 15-plus minutes?</span><br /><br /><span style="font-family: trebuchet ms;">Eek. Don’t answer that.</span><br /><br /><span style="font-family: trebuchet ms;">What non-toilet-related things could anyone <span style="font-style: italic;">possibly</span> do doing <span style="font-style: italic;">every</span> night that would take that long?</span><br /><br /><span style="font-family: trebuchet ms;">So I got to wondering if my nighttime routine is excessive, or if it is only excessive compared to Tanner’s:</span><br /><br /><span style="font-family: trebuchet ms;">-Take off clothes. (optional)</span><br /><span style="font-family: trebuchet ms;">-Put on shorts. (no comment)</span><br /><span style="font-family: trebuchet ms;">-Turn off lights and pull back sheets. (optional)</span><br /><span style="font-family: trebuchet ms;">-Collapse on bed. (mandatory)</span><br /><br /><span style="font-family: trebuchet ms;"> Mine goes something like this:</span><br /><br /><span style="font-family: trebuchet ms;">-Brush teeth (BORING, and does anyone else have such trouble keeping the toothpaste foam from coming out all over their lips?)</span><br /><span style="font-family: trebuchet ms;">-Wash face </span><br /><span style="font-family: trebuchet ms;">-Cringe while removing a cotton pad from the bag – egads! I hate cotton balls and cotton pads and Q-tips – then apply toner</span><br /><span style="font-family: trebuchet ms;">-Apply wrinkle cream to forehead, neck and chest</span><br /><span style="font-family: trebuchet ms;">-Apply eye cream</span><br /><span style="font-family: trebuchet ms;">-Stare into the endless, black abyss of my pores</span><br /><span style="font-family: trebuchet ms;">-Do the blubber rearranging thing</span><br /><br /><span style="font-family: trebuchet ms;">If I remember:</span><br /><span style="font-family: trebuchet ms;">-Put cellulite cream onto unnamed areas. And no, I do not do this while eating a praline. </span><br /><span style="font-family: trebuchet ms;">I wait until I’m done.</span><br /><span style="font-family: trebuchet ms;">-Floss (BORING)</span><br /><span style="font-family: trebuchet ms;">-Use mouthwash (BURNS and BORING)</span><br /><span style="font-family: trebuchet ms;">-Take vitamins and probiotics</span><br /> <br /><span style="font-family: trebuchet ms;">-Put on PJs</span><br /><span style="font-family: trebuchet ms;">-Check every door in house 3 times to make sure it’s really locked and click the remote lock on truck keys until the truck horn can be heard CLEARLY three times</span><br /><span style="font-family: trebuchet ms;">-Put the dogs to bed and give Happy pills if he needs them. Lay on Happy’s bed with him and speak unspeakable, sappy, ridiculous, humiliatingly corny baby talk to him.</span><br /><span style="font-family: trebuchet ms;">-Get in bed.</span><br /><span style="font-family: trebuchet ms;">-Put lotion on legs</span>.<br /><span style="font-family: trebuchet ms;">-Put lotion on feet.</span><br /><span style="font-family: trebuchet ms;">-Put on chapstick.</span><br /><span style="font-family: trebuchet ms;">-Put in mouth guard and, if the fan is on, my satin eye cover, beauty sleep thing (because I swear I sleep with my eyes half open and the fan dries them out).</span><br /><span style="font-family: trebuchet ms;">-Snuggle into bed.</span><br /><span style="font-family: trebuchet ms;">-Realize I have to go to the bathroom.</span><br /><br /><span style="font-family: trebuchet ms;">That pretty much sums it up. </span><br /><br /><span style="font-family: trebuchet ms;">You?<br /><br />P.S. Sweet Dreams and Butt Cream was my original post title. </span>Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05407825751018840480noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1989590509648610688.post-35605674931230098652011-03-21T08:51:00.002-05:002011-03-21T11:57:49.596-05:00Run, baby, run<span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;">When I was young, I called all athletic shoes "tenni-shoes," as in tennis shoes. Then, when I was about 12, I moved to Canada, donned a toque, ate ketchup chips, subsequently becoming brainwashed and started calling athletic shoes "runners" because that's what all my friends were saying.<br /><br />I also called my dear ol' mama, "mum." It was a dark time.<br /><br />Now, I call them tenni-shoes or "sneakers," for some bizarre reason. I don't know where I picked that up.<br /><br />A couple of weeks ago, I got a new pair of watchamacalits at <a href="http://www.fwrunco.com/">Fort Worth Running Co.</a> They put me on a treadmill, video recorded my gait, and played it back for me as they explained why kind of running shoe I needed. I have no arches and over-pronate, so I needed support. My new <a href="http://www.brooksrunning.com/Brooks-Adrenaline-GTS-11-Womens-Running-Shoe/1200822A306.090,default,pd.html?start=1&cgid=womens-runningshoes-support">Brooks</a> have seen a lot of miles in the last couple of weeks, more than my old tenni-runner-sneaks saw in a whole month.<br /><br />For the last couple of weeks, I've consistently been running six miles on the Mineral Wells Trailway in Weatherford. My great aunt Alene always tells me she was, is and always will be a two-drink gal. Well, I was a four-mile gal for a long time. Then, something inspired me, or my brain shorted, and I upped to six miles.<br /><br />I love running, and it's the only athletic endeavor I've ever been even remotely talented at. I'm not fast, at all, and I don't have anything near perfect form. But I have endurance and guts and a sickening addiction to finish no matter what. It's one of the things in life I always see to the end, no matter how ugly that end may be.<br /><br />I remember when, as a 8th grader, I was running in the 800 meter race (two times around the track) at the city track meet in Edmonton, Alberta. The gun sounded and we were off. The rest of the field was pacing pacing themselves, but since speed have never been my strong suit, I knew I'd never had a chance if I waiting to battle it out in a sprint to the finish. So, I took a chance and pushed out ahead of the pack. At that age, I was usually painfully aware whenever eyes were on me and not too fond of it for a host of reasons including but not limited to acne, sweaty armpits, a bad Jennifer Aniston turned Hanson brothers haircut and overarching, all-encompassing insecurity and self-loathing. But in that moment, it didn't matter. My pounding of my feet on the track, my legs swinging powerfully, the air pushing in and out of my lungs, I felt confident and alone, in a good way. Everything else was a muted blur.<br /><br />Everyone caught up to me toward the finish. I remember pushing my body so hard and realizing that no matter how much you try, sometimes, there's just nothing left. My dad had once told me that if you pump your arms faster, your legs will follow suit. So, on the home video, you can see me in my Vernon Barford Blues track uniform with my face red as a cherry, my long arms pumping furiously like pistons in an engine, and my gangly legs struggling in a disproportionally slower lope, like a gazelle in slow motion. I was all limbs, then. Still am. I'm the torso-less wonder. Still, I finished third and earned a spot on that podium.<br /><br />I'm still not fast. I'm an undisclosed amount of pounds heavier. I've dislocated my knee twice. I've broken my sacrum (the back of my pelvis). But I've still got guts, carnsarnit!<br /><br />This Saturday, I was headed down the trail on the back half of my six miles when a runner came from behind. He was slowly gaining on me. It didn't help that I had to stop periodically to tell Happy it was OK to slide under a fence and get a drink from a creek/pond/puddle/stagnant swamp. I can't really tell if Happy enjoys running with me. After the first couple miles during which he frantically and desperately chases squirrels, rabbits and apparitions of grandeur, he spends the rest of the time frantically and desperately searching for any body of water he can plunge in to.<br /><br />Anyway, the mystery runner kept closing, which gave me a renewed inspiration to push myself more than I had in a long time. I felt like I was back on the jr. high track. Minus the acne. Well, sort of. As I could hear the closer's footsteps getting louder, I opened up my gait and really let myself fly in the last half-mile stretch. I probably opened up to early because I was audibly weezing and gasping as I gallumped past several other trail-goers. But I did it! I surged ahead and finished a good 200 meters ahead of mystery man.<br /><br />After I vomited, I thanked the other runner for pushing me and assured him I didn't think he was trying to run me down and attack me. I asked him how far he had run, and he said 8 miles.<br /><br />8 miles. Hmm. That got me thinking.<br /><br />So yesterday, I gave it a try, telling myself that if worse came to worse, I could start walking on the way back at what would have been six miles. I headed out, and I'm actually really proud to say, I did it! And, the extra two miles were much easier than I thought they would be. Granted I was running anywhere from a 10-15 minute mile at times and was there half the day, I didn't tire cardiovascularly and only had to momentarily stop twice, once when Happy caused a biker with a dog on a leash to crash and once to balance the universe by personally returning some water to the earth in light of all that Happy had removed.<br /><br />It's the ciirrrrcle of liiife, and it moves us aaaallll.<br /><br />Sometimes very inconveniently with no toilet paper available. And poison plants abounding. Nuf said.<br /><br />What did make it difficult toward the end were my ankles and knees. But I did it. I ran 8 miles, and I think I'll try again this weekend.<br /><br /></span>Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05407825751018840480noreply@blogger.com9tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1989590509648610688.post-5858159756054876852011-03-07T10:01:00.007-06:002011-03-08T10:13:11.787-06:00Twenty-Seven<span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;">Tanner and I each turned 27 recently. The kids I babysit inform me that this is "wow, really old."<br /><br />I use anti-wrinkle cream. And eye cream. Twice a day.<br /><br />I regularly use denture cleaning tablets <span style="font-size:85%;">(for my mouth guard)</span>.<br /><br />I drink Sleepy Time tea.<br /><br />I fall asleep almost every night on the couch between 9:30 pm-10 pm. For Tanner, 8:30 pm and 9:00 pm.<br /><br />I go on bird watching tours.<br /><br />I wear socks with Crocs.<br /><br />I wear Crocs.<br /><br />Anyways. We are both a year older. That is great, and I am very thankful for all the blessings </span><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;">and the struggles </span><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;">we received in our 27th year on this earth. They brought joy, thankfulness, refinement and growth.<br /><br />I lost my job. I found a new job. We celebrated a year of marriage. We found a church in Weatherford to attend. We made new friends and watched others drift away. </span><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;"></span><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;">I lost my cat, Striker. We both worked long, hard hours and many weekends. Tanner's Grandpa, Bud Haynes, passed away. We enjoyed Christmas celebrations at both of our parents' homes. We bought a house.<br /><br />Through it all, God was faithful to us and worked in His perfect will, through valleys and mountains, to continue us on a path of loving Him, each other and the people around us.<br /><br />To the test the integrity of our ever-degrading, nearly middle-aged teeth before we're forced to wear dentures or gum stewed prunes, Tanner and I each chose to celebrate our birthdays with impressive </span><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;">carnivorous displays.<br /><br />For Tanner's 27th in January, we, along with some good friends, went to Texas De Brazil in Forth Worth. It's a Brazilian-style churrascaria where they bring meat (beef, pork, lamb) to your table and shave off portions for you. They also have a killer salad bar, which was my favorite part.<br /><br /></span><div style="text-align: center;"><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhDKgaaW2XP2AsXMF8MI0tY9uEIX24ZZHcPEsoDRR71PCZyCimWGqydxebNhvCijeoxr-IwNiiCi3HTVaJae2Rfavb7J0my4kj8WNSPqpnGg-9qkE9omyqjt549xZb5lHFMTQ8Ri8vZroU/s1600/P1280232.JPG"><img style="display: block; margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 214px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhDKgaaW2XP2AsXMF8MI0tY9uEIX24ZZHcPEsoDRR71PCZyCimWGqydxebNhvCijeoxr-IwNiiCi3HTVaJae2Rfavb7J0my4kj8WNSPqpnGg-9qkE9omyqjt549xZb5lHFMTQ8Ri8vZroU/s320/P1280232.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5581736412274111922" border="0" /></a><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;"><span style="font-size:85%;">At Texas De Brazil<br /><br /></span></span><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhuFc1YQJunQp9_4OFbUTjH69VdYovAp9VDa8fxcFNp1YoxM9kIqNUchWJT-FLvIiw93FKWckZjsxr-AKtY5Ooqykg7nO-2mfMOaz3NeMwa-rgGqEMyBEAh8DjVnyyuleYdiuHt0guSg74/s1600/P1280229.JPG"><img style="display: block; margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhuFc1YQJunQp9_4OFbUTjH69VdYovAp9VDa8fxcFNp1YoxM9kIqNUchWJT-FLvIiw93FKWckZjsxr-AKtY5Ooqykg7nO-2mfMOaz3NeMwa-rgGqEMyBEAh8DjVnyyuleYdiuHt0guSg74/s320/P1280229.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5581736400771002098" border="0" /></a><span style="font-family: trebuchet ms;font-size:85%;" >Carter and Brandon</span><br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg7VTFJ-sMm4sEWfDleUEO32XBhdkm0UsaH4A4QQdBKz3UqZYsEGo8_eJMr0_s6LsoaXgAM5MSDxdDfkHtXDLFWxNWxB1fONVf2zgZNlk7-VgsFlKY8BUQ230C7N_zwc9avHDQgHoq-ebM/s1600/P1280231.JPG"><img style="display: block; margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg7VTFJ-sMm4sEWfDleUEO32XBhdkm0UsaH4A4QQdBKz3UqZYsEGo8_eJMr0_s6LsoaXgAM5MSDxdDfkHtXDLFWxNWxB1fONVf2zgZNlk7-VgsFlKY8BUQ230C7N_zwc9avHDQgHoq-ebM/s320/P1280231.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5581736401754302194" border="0" /></a><span style="font-family: trebuchet ms;font-size:85%;" >Jenni and Ryan</span><br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgdNAx6Knz9BxVhTA7JRVZUn5XcUCu8VX43E8iVJUB7eT6HjnByqRfBFl9M9Rr0JT2AbY3mSBZRi0yUiQ1GsY2E_7iD3xxILQKK26Wk2tsW6iIg3rdZcNEMOLLp9SQ2wejH8IiZ2ULArp0/s1600/P1280230.JPG"><img style="display: block; margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgdNAx6Knz9BxVhTA7JRVZUn5XcUCu8VX43E8iVJUB7eT6HjnByqRfBFl9M9Rr0JT2AbY3mSBZRi0yUiQ1GsY2E_7iD3xxILQKK26Wk2tsW6iIg3rdZcNEMOLLp9SQ2wejH8IiZ2ULArp0/s320/P1280230.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5581741169269389666" border="0" /></a><span style="font-family: trebuchet ms;font-size:85%;" >Adam and Tanner</span><br /></div><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;"><br />After dinner, we went dancing in the Stockyards. Jenni and Ryan drove up from Beeville and stayed with us at the Hyatt Place in the "historic Fort Worth Stockyards." It was a great time, with added atmosphere due to the FW Stock Show and Rodeo going on.<br /><br /></span><div style="text-align: center;"><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiia-CVm8uN1ez2bRtNgVBcKr8VvpRLZp4zeu9_u2RCEbxOe6sMUlWySrMDGCcQLhto8QXN95NYSs5BRFEIBvZO6VQtBOLOFjyeNAYkpRSyIazRG8RktC5Kz-E_0geGWCAfG9Frrf1ATfQ/s1600/P1290239.JPG"><img style="display: block; margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 214px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiia-CVm8uN1ez2bRtNgVBcKr8VvpRLZp4zeu9_u2RCEbxOe6sMUlWySrMDGCcQLhto8QXN95NYSs5BRFEIBvZO6VQtBOLOFjyeNAYkpRSyIazRG8RktC5Kz-E_0geGWCAfG9Frrf1ATfQ/s320/P1290239.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5581736421177840450" border="0" /></a><span style="font-size:85%;"><span style="font-family: trebuchet ms;">Out on the town<br /><br /></span></span></div><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;">For my birthday, this weekend, Tanner and I went to downtown FW to enjoy one of my FAVORITE fares, boiled crawfish! We got 2 lbs a piece, nice and spicy, and all the boiled taters and corn that come with it. We also had some delicious crawfish fondue and bread, all courtesy of Razzoos Cajun Cafe. I <span style="font-style: italic;">loooove</span> when it's crawfish season. </span><span style="" id="search"><em></em></span><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;"> </span><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;"><br /><br /></span><div style="text-align: center;"><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh09cPotlBfNVoxQXrW9pJOzAz79qVLF-O_JdDUmsYJdqqk5MrG9LBKE64qs_N3zsukGvfH37QLWSaCfV3AOIlMZzDcysPm5E4iiGEUtHPhEwVCVXVXGx9i_4ji4deoxAB1hFcqGXlcnPc/s1600/P3050344.JPG"><img style="display: block; margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh09cPotlBfNVoxQXrW9pJOzAz79qVLF-O_JdDUmsYJdqqk5MrG9LBKE64qs_N3zsukGvfH37QLWSaCfV3AOIlMZzDcysPm5E4iiGEUtHPhEwVCVXVXGx9i_4ji4deoxAB1hFcqGXlcnPc/s320/P3050344.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5581736427215735346" border="0" /></a><span style="font-size:85%;"><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;">At Razzoo's<br /><br /></span></span></div><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;">Sunday night, Tanner made me dinner! He whipped up some huge ribeyes, mac and cheese, wedge salad and french bread, and got me a nice bottle of wine, too.<br /><br />By the time the weekend wrapped up, I was full of thankfulness.<br /><br />And protein.<br /><br />And birthday donuts.<br /><br />And brownies.<br /><br />And I ran 12 miles.<br /><br />Really, I did.<br /><br />The end.<br /><br /></span>Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05407825751018840480noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1989590509648610688.post-56238875065042430532011-03-03T10:54:00.003-06:002011-03-03T16:05:43.832-06:00Birthday Makeover<span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;">Babysitting last night was awesome, as expected.<br /><br />We started out by playing duck-duck-goose on the trampoline. I couldn't catch anyone. Our circle was so small that by the time I got up from the seated position, the goose was already around the loop and sitting down again. When I playfully asked, "Why can't I catch anyone?" I <span style="font-style: italic;">knew</span> the logistics of our small circle were to blame, but the girls also informed me, "Because you're old!"<br /><br />When I told them that this Sunday is my birthday ("27!? That's so old!"), they decided they needed to host a birthday party for me. I picked out outfits for everyone and did their makeup. Then, while two of the girls "decorated" the living room (draped scarves over the TV, hung an open, upside-down umbrella from the chandelier, set stuffed animals up on the couch), I got a makeover for the party. It was epic.<br /><br />Five applications of lipgloss, most of which ended up INSIDE my mouth. Glitter stick all over my face and neck and chest. Red and blue hair mascara. Neon pick blush on my cheeks and jaw. Perfume. And "eyeliner." When they were done the <span style="font-style: italic;">first</span> time, the verdict was, "Oh my word, that does NOT look good. You're a mess."<br /><br />A case of Wet Wipes and three do-overs later, I was presentable for the party.<br /><br />I was treated to a Miley Cirus dance party ("Party in the USA" on loop), then half of the guests left early to go play Barbies, then the remaining guests performed a 20-minute ballet to Kelly Clarkson's "Breakaway."<br /><br />Best birthday ever.<br /><br /><br /></span><div style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhxNaANfxS6G4jG9zLaOGW0ahph1RJRXadoCn_vdFCKrFM156hOWG3AOzE863zf1Zk8dMuEl0y2twQP_wfGiMOhXJpc_S9Mi-BmehwxU13OOhCphpKK0AOIYJW4U82-qAx_a0KmpbRydvs/s1600/P3020343.JPG"><img style="display: block; margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 240px; height: 320px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhxNaANfxS6G4jG9zLaOGW0ahph1RJRXadoCn_vdFCKrFM156hOWG3AOzE863zf1Zk8dMuEl0y2twQP_wfGiMOhXJpc_S9Mi-BmehwxU13OOhCphpKK0AOIYJW4U82-qAx_a0KmpbRydvs/s320/P3020343.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5579903476667831346" border="0" /></a><span style="font-size:85%;"><span style="font-family: trebuchet ms;">Check out that eyeliner!</span></span><br /></div>Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05407825751018840480noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1989590509648610688.post-86964317118980118612011-03-02T14:50:00.009-06:002011-03-03T10:53:02.079-06:00Making Tracks<span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;">I love doing things with the dogs. About this time last year, I made it my special-day birthday request to Tanner that he come with me and the pups on a long walk down the Mineral Wells State Trailway. My 27th birthday isn't until this weekend, and I'll probably see if I can make the trek a tradition this year, but last weekend we also took the dogs to this trail. The weather was just too nice to resist on Sunday, and Tanner knew he'd be stuck inside the shop (at work) setting up jobs for the rest of the afternoon.<br /><br /></span><div style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgK5SC3gPovFugDRPLhkCqXIBmykS23ipAy85wnnf5PmGME_5aRMV8oerycPqwlQMp_O3ucDy3r6-EWSmTvjghRF9KEZk_PhD9kE9thLSWn3L17gbsQNmCa2_1wiJDCzM59BOYCjgvVids/s1600/P3060189.JPG"><img style="display: block; margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgK5SC3gPovFugDRPLhkCqXIBmykS23ipAy85wnnf5PmGME_5aRMV8oerycPqwlQMp_O3ucDy3r6-EWSmTvjghRF9KEZk_PhD9kE9thLSWn3L17gbsQNmCa2_1wiJDCzM59BOYCjgvVids/s320/P3060189.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5579890292037718434" border="0" /></a><span style="font-size:85%;">Birthday walk, March 2010<br /><br /></span><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhq2Fj5MDCCqBnGmW6QtW-Tllabhe_Mt7zRoCvIbJMR7jUrYC9F8jb2W2f3eDeN2_nMS8G2S8qI52qWaLtGF-I8f8N8Xvp6jx5jCo4c9QWFtWj1DXvo3OAI3U19VcwSLQRO1WesQeytfzY/s1600/P3060207a.jpg"><img style="display: block; margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 133px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhq2Fj5MDCCqBnGmW6QtW-Tllabhe_Mt7zRoCvIbJMR7jUrYC9F8jb2W2f3eDeN2_nMS8G2S8qI52qWaLtGF-I8f8N8Xvp6jx5jCo4c9QWFtWj1DXvo3OAI3U19VcwSLQRO1WesQeytfzY/s320/P3060207a.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5579890293046816242" border="0" /></a><span style="font-size:85%;">Birthday walk, March 2010: Digger against the world</span><br /><br /></div><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;">The trail begins in Weatherford (because I'm egocentric) and runs 20 miles</span><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;"> westward</span><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;"> through the countryside and </span><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;">Lake Mineral Wells State Park</span><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;"> before ending in downtown Mineral Wells. We haven't made it that far, but we continue to explore the trail, which used to be WMW & NW railway. In it's heyday, the tracks took thousands of passengers to Mineral Wells to experience the town's mineral springs. That all hit the fan in the early 1900s, and the railway was purchased by Texas & Pacific, then merged with the Missouri Pacific and eventually the Union Pacific. Around 1990, it was purchased by Mineral Wells and then abandoned. In 1998, it was opened as the trailway it is today!<br /><br /></span><div style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi1_IKQusvRTX8EnlTIbWmxDp-VJ_0XZqSsxmo-Nmk3Pk1s376mCZ_f_E5gcT4ZkAKHkPXwqvxpSQk1M-nMhO6_BhJ43wjuRPuB5KM_Zmrig2vuBMNl4C3SoYy1LaiZsnSLAIk1ky47Z-g/s1600/photo.jpg"><img style="display: block; margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 240px; height: 320px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi1_IKQusvRTX8EnlTIbWmxDp-VJ_0XZqSsxmo-Nmk3Pk1s376mCZ_f_E5gcT4ZkAKHkPXwqvxpSQk1M-nMhO6_BhJ43wjuRPuB5KM_Zmrig2vuBMNl4C3SoYy1LaiZsnSLAIk1ky47Z-g/s320/photo.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5579893313803043522" border="0" /></a><span style="font-size:85%;">On the trail<br /><br /></span></div><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;">And it's an awesome trailway. (Really, it is. I just need to take some pictures during the spring/summer!) It starts in Weatherford at Cartwright Park and goes through 10 miles of cattle and horse pastures, hay patches and ponds before it reaches the cute little town of Garner. My dad, Tanner and I have biked this portion of the trail, and I often drive to the trail head in Garner to walk the dogs because the Garner-eastward portion of the trail is on of my favorite. There is also a cute cafe/general store in Garner where you can get something to eat or buy 4 jugs of Gatorade, like Tanner does after we're done walking.<br /><blockquote><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjOpSqBka4q_pIFy42xms7Ph20__1WnUb6NhhmMAAYKv6YVQpeRp-bW-hv0dvuqWeMUrkmTfT7mpZJ4rHEGdrdnH2HSn2mdSjPr_E36CPECIKn4_gvFZZoLuxSH7tFUuiLSLZpFHDCg6GY/s1600/P3120214.JPG"><img style="display: block; margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 240px; height: 320px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjOpSqBka4q_pIFy42xms7Ph20__1WnUb6NhhmMAAYKv6YVQpeRp-bW-hv0dvuqWeMUrkmTfT7mpZJ4rHEGdrdnH2HSn2mdSjPr_E36CPECIKn4_gvFZZoLuxSH7tFUuiLSLZpFHDCg6GY/s320/P3120214.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5579892891962958226" border="0" /></a></blockquote></span><div style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size:85%;">The trailhead in Weatherford<br /><br /></span></div><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;">Last weekend, we walked a portion of the trail we'd never traveled before. We started in Garner and headed west. This portion of the trail hugged Maddux Road, which you could see from the trail most of the time. That ended up not being a big deal because it was a rural road with little traffic and lots of ranchland.<br /><br /></span><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiqNJP2pM5vz6hMFic5KU-gEiWIrVU_f3ejJ4I1mnD6MksqhIQAUSSBCxMG-2on0_DhbZQwYboac1Woz0a6PQs2FSps_HITenoSld5olVKCWk5mJMeHDEwrEjU_Ban94TpTI-ep9wXg0V0/s1600/P2270327.JPG"><img style="display: block; margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiqNJP2pM5vz6hMFic5KU-gEiWIrVU_f3ejJ4I1mnD6MksqhIQAUSSBCxMG-2on0_DhbZQwYboac1Woz0a6PQs2FSps_HITenoSld5olVKCWk5mJMeHDEwrEjU_Ban94TpTI-ep9wXg0V0/s320/P2270327.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5579895338666281122" border="0" /></a><br /><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;">The first adventure along the was was a shanty house on the right where we heard 5 large dogs barking from about 40 feet away. That was a little freaky until we realized they were behind a wire panel that, thankfully, held, despite them all five of them jumping on it at once.<br /><br />The second adventure what a black and white spotted pit bull that started following us at the trailhead and walked with us all 2 1/2 miles out and 2 1/2 miles back. We saw him for the first little while but didn't realize he was still with us until about mile 1 1/2, which kind of spooked us. Most of the time he trailed far behind and would pop into sight every once and awhile. It kind of reminded me of the movie <span style="font-style: italic;">The Hills Have Eyes</span>. He was pretty cute, and I didn't mind him being there until on the way back, he tried to, ahem, do doggy business with Digger, who is getting a little old and stiff and who at that point, was so tuckered out that all he could do was growl and kinda sorta try to turn behind to bite the other dog. Flexibility, agility and speed are not his strongest suits at this point, which diverted a dog fight. But still, I was very offended for him and felt for his wounded pride. Tanner scared the other dog off, and for Digger's sake, we all agreed we'd never speak of it again.<br /><br /></span><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhHCDx01xZLyhmmNecP_ShkeI3mAVX9d5YSUlq4ov6NND91US2DusqFJqTdU_-JFJZ9kEtT91PsJcYLuXuIRQbk9BqOxrSjNhYVU0LjvSLhlMrXKpa3GFJLaa0GKpm_RknydiuHoRh7Qyo/s1600/P2270330.JPG"><img style="display: block; margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 240px; height: 320px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhHCDx01xZLyhmmNecP_ShkeI3mAVX9d5YSUlq4ov6NND91US2DusqFJqTdU_-JFJZ9kEtT91PsJcYLuXuIRQbk9BqOxrSjNhYVU0LjvSLhlMrXKpa3GFJLaa0GKpm_RknydiuHoRh7Qyo/s320/P2270330.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5579897247502420338" border="0" /></a><br /><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;">Third adventure was three additional big dogs running through a field lookin' like they were up to no good. They never ended up bothering us, but after our luck with <a href="http://www.erinandtanner.com/2011/01/naked-and-bears.html">bears</a>, we erred on the safe side and started gathering the largest sticks we could find. I ended up using mine as a walking stick, which got Tanner thinking about fashioning a walking stick with a spear mounted on the end.<br /><br />That's safe.<br /><br />The main adventure was "Dry Creek," which ended up not being totally dry. There was a cliff-encircled pond fed by the creek, which ran through a dry gap of rocks and puddles, which we were able to hop across between pond and the creek upstream.<br /><br /></span><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEihhpIuc0n7oZwvEuQzx05jhY6cHACE-ISvzWBcdTEJAZqpPGOhgeAUpu-XLToX2c4qGrKEpUg_HQZvFWCJT1Ncjd1DC-vezZyxauUKNLcXybBE-zJSqfKnd4YBUMq4uBZ3guslSt0pAKE/s1600/P2270326.JPG"><img style="display: block; margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEihhpIuc0n7oZwvEuQzx05jhY6cHACE-ISvzWBcdTEJAZqpPGOhgeAUpu-XLToX2c4qGrKEpUg_HQZvFWCJT1Ncjd1DC-vezZyxauUKNLcXybBE-zJSqfKnd4YBUMq4uBZ3guslSt0pAKE/s320/P2270326.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5579895345816990386" border="0" /></a><br /><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;">It was a great day, and we were happy to discover that this portion of the trail was less traveled. Aside from the burgeoning dog population, we only saw one couple bicycling. We're not antisocial. It's just nice to let the dogs run loose and not have to worry about people freaking out. They're nice, but they're just so big that they scare people. Oh, and Happy likes to bark at kids. I missed that part of his human socialization. Oops. The dogs had a great time, and as cheesy as it sounds, it's a great feelings to be able to watch dogs experience pure, unrestrained joy... Minus the humping.<br /><br /></span><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjDbwsU0VP7ECn_xjg3ZCw-Q5nfdM9vMy7hZ3j3DcNVA0dpPplTOUS8gKntp5iq_jvcggCxdTFG-xrkGPfJg-ZRi9WlwmPjupFyXvleGluD5W8C8RrqO0sTxO64bY-MDDg2AGW8FgvtnWU/s1600/P2270329.JPG"><img style="display: block; margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjDbwsU0VP7ECn_xjg3ZCw-Q5nfdM9vMy7hZ3j3DcNVA0dpPplTOUS8gKntp5iq_jvcggCxdTFG-xrkGPfJg-ZRi9WlwmPjupFyXvleGluD5W8C8RrqO0sTxO64bY-MDDg2AGW8FgvtnWU/s320/P2270329.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5579895350228618466" border="0" /></a><br /><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;">I run a lot on various portions of this trail, but Tanner and I have about 8 miles yet to explore, and my neighbor has invited me to go trail riding (horseback) in Mineral Wells State Park itself.<br /><br />Here's a pretty cool video on the park and trail with a troooo Takes-sus park RAYger, David Owens. Oh, and the signs on the trail say NO going faster than a walk on horseback. If I ever get in trouble for running my horses, I'll site this video.<br /><br /><iframe title="YouTube video player" src="http://www.youtube.com/embed/8HIUYCCopfY" allowfullscreen="" frameborder="0" height="390" width="480"></iframe><br /><br />Side note on the now abandoned, infamous (for its supposed hauntings) Baker Hotel (mentioned in the video), which was a famous resort spa centered around the mineral baths: </span><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;">During the early 1930s, it </span><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;">drew celebrities like Lawrence Welk, Clark Gable, Greta Garbo, JFK, Marilyn Monroe and supposedly Bonnie and Clyde to the dinky lil' town of Mineral Wells .<br /><br /><br /></span>Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05407825751018840480noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1989590509648610688.post-57083531377340392402011-02-26T20:38:00.003-06:002011-02-26T20:57:19.952-06:00Amazed and Thankful!<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:'trebuchet ms';">This morning I worked more on removing the rock mulch. I got about half of the rocks removed – 8'x2' worth. I filled the wheelbarrow, which deflated the tire and ran it off the rim when I tried to move it. Oops. Tanner loved that. </span><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:'trebuchet ms';"><br /></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:'trebuchet ms';">Then, I took pictures and posted the rocks for free on Craigslist. I was very skeptical that anyone would want the stupid rocks that I was trying so desperately to get rid of! </span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:'trebuchet ms';"><br /></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:'trebuchet ms';">At the last minute, I also joined the Weatherford Freecycle group on Yahoo groups and posted the rocks on there. </span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:'trebuchet ms';"><br /></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:'trebuchet ms';">I was SHOCKED at the number of responses I got. I received about four responses from Craigslist and 7 from Freecyle. I actually started to feel bad, knowing that only one person would get the rocks. I started to wish I had more rocks to go around, then realized that what I REALLY wished was I never had rocks to begin with. </span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:'trebuchet ms';"><br /></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:'trebuchet ms';">Anyway, Tanner walked me through the agonizing, guilt-stricken process of deciding who to respond to and how long to wait to hear back from them before moving on, etc. The long and short of it is, someone came that day to get the rocks, and they are coming back tomorrow to get the second load that I plan to have done by the afternoon. </span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:'trebuchet ms';"><br /></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:'trebuchet ms';">Awesome! While I got responses from Craigslist, I thought Freecyle was really cool, and I liked it better. The people were all extremely local, as in they lived in Weatherford, as opposed to Craiglists which goes to the whole DFW area. Also, because it is a Yahoo group, most subscribing group members get the postings delivered immediately to their inbox so you get responses much sooner. The other main difference between the two, is everything posted on Freecyle has to be FREE, duh. Craiglist is usually used for selling things. I wonder if people would have paid for my stupid rocks?</span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:'trebuchet ms';"><br /></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:'trebuchet ms';">Now, for the other side of Freecycle, the side where you look for free stuff, I'm one who hates getting emails sent to my inbox from anywhere about anything because I already feel overwhelmed by the number of emails I get. Thankfully, joining didn't mean I have to be bombarded with emails about free Sony Walkmans and nonfunctioning toilets. I was able to adjust my personal settings on the group so that I have to log into Yahoo Groups to see the free-stuff posts. They don't come to my inbox. However, the direct messages people sent in response to my rock posting were sent right to my email inbox. Handy.</span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:'trebuchet ms';"><br /></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:'trebuchet ms';">All in all, Freecyle rocks. You should look into it to see if there's a group for your area. </span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:'trebuchet ms';"><br /></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:'trebuchet ms';">I'm hoping there will also be be people interested in the larger 3"-5" rocks from the planters that are surrounding our whole house! Who knew rocks were in such demand.</span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:'trebuchet ms';"><br /></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:'trebuchet ms';">http://www.freecycle.org/</span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:'trebuchet ms';"><br /></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:'trebuchet ms';"><br /></span></div>Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05407825751018840480noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1989590509648610688.post-48420989216036488212011-02-24T11:54:00.004-06:002011-02-25T07:32:55.743-06:00Justin Bieber's Girlfriends<span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;">I babysit on Wednesday nights for a group of absolutely sweet, hilarious, rambunctious and CREATIVE kids! No matter how tired I am from the day, I so look forward to our play times. Each child is so beautifully unique and each Wednesday evening they gather together under one roof like a colorful patchwork quilt.<br /><br />Did I mention there are usually 7 kids? So it's a pretty substantial quilt. Queen/King size, at least. But last night, because of the flu, only 4 kids were there.<br /><br />R, K and J are siblings, and we all get together at their house. R is the oldest, 7. She's a beautiful brunette who's kind and considerate. She has a beautiful voice. She is creative and confident; she is "in charge" of all the other girls. She decides what games they're playing and, ultimately, what is and is NOT cool that given day. She's sweet and cheerful. She is also very sensitive.<br /><br />K is 5. She is a gorgeous blond, and she's a bundle of energy – so easily excitable. She's sincere and cuddly, and falls in love immediately with almost everyone. She is very theatrical and loves to dance and act and pose and do anything that puts her in the spotlight.<br /><br />J is two and he is the most cheerful, happy, smiley little boy I've ever known! And I can not understand a SINGLE word that he says!<br /><br />T, who is 6 or 7, usually comes with her brother, C. T is a tiny thing, freckle-faced and cute as a button. </span><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;">She's athletic and nimble and amazed me the other day by doing a back flip in the living room. </span><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;">She is what I would call incredibly "agreeable" – she's always up for anything, goes with the flow and has yet to get in an argument with anyone. She's amazingly selfless for a little girl. Needless to say, she's everyone's best friend.<br /><br />Wednesday night is <span style="font-style: italic;">always</span> entertaining, whether we're putting on a fashion show, playing hide-and-go-seek in the dark or having a dance-off on the trampoline. But this week, this week it was particularly hi-lar-ious.<br /><br />The girls decided to put on a concert. They rallied in R's and K's room for at least a half an hour to decide on their band name, outfits and makeup. They presented themselves as the newly signed artists, Justin Bieber's Girlfriends. The band was comprised of Taylor Swift (K), Selena Gomez (T) and Hannah Montana (R).<br /><br />Next, I was forced to decide who should be the lead singer. The each made "ah ah ah, ah ah ah" sounds. Kind of like a mix between Mariah Carey and the Little Mermaid. I picked R, only on the premise that everyone would subsequently get a chance to be a lead singer. Everyone got pouty-faced, but R explained that "first is the worst, second is the best, third is the one with the treasure chest." Phew.<br /><br />Then, they sat down and each wrote out songs to perform. K needed help writing. Her song went something like this:<br /><span style="font-style: italic;">We are the best of the rock stars. We like to sing together always, with my brother and my sister. I love my sister and my brother. I like to sing with my mom and dad and also my nana and papa. Because I like to sing with you. I like to sing always because it is fuuuunnnn." </span><br /><br />T's song was significantly shorter:<br /><span style="font-style: italic;">We may be young, but we can still sing. We are the Justin Bieber girls. Our names are Taylor and Selena and Hannah. </span><br /><br />R just wrote out all the lyrics by memory to "Love Story" by Taylor Swift. They R decided she wanted to go last – as the grand finale – and had to, after much objection from the chorus, re-explain that "third is the worst and the rest are the best."<br /><br />I wish you could see how serious and intense they were when they read/sang their lyrics under the spotlight of a hand-held flashlight.<br /><br />I didn't get each of their solos, but I did catch two encore performances. The first is K singing and original/made up on the spot/rambling song while the other girls play instruments. The second is K singing a solo of "Soul Sister," or is it "Scone Sister"?<br /><br />J spent the night trying to make eat his shoe with a huge pelican from a pop-up picture show and pointing at the refrigerator and babbling out instructions. I can tell you in hindsight that it wasn't macaroni and cheese that he wanted, oops, and I think it might have been strawberry yogurt.<br /></span><br /><br /><iframe title="YouTube video player" src="http://www.youtube.com/embed/A3AKiFXmcxE" frameborder="0" height="390" width="480"></iframe><br /><br /><iframe title="YouTube video player" src="http://www.youtube.com/embed/wL75bp0fFEs" frameborder="0" height="390" width="480"></iframe>Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05407825751018840480noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1989590509648610688.post-52453674924082605612011-02-21T16:01:00.009-06:002011-02-21T20:59:36.838-06:00YOU Can Make the World a Better Place<span style="font-family: trebuchet ms;font-family:arial;" >Forget global warming.<br /><br />Forget world peace.<br /><br />If you really want to do something to make a difference for future generations,<br /><br />If you really want to make the world a better place for your children,<br /><br />Or, at the very least, if you want to avoid the SCORN of your children and keep future generations from CURSING your very name and BURNING an effigy of you in the streets,<br /><br />Then good people of the Earth, DO NOT, I say DO NOT, use ROCKS as MULCH!!!<br /><br />Rocks belong along riverbeds and lake shores. How lovely. You can skip them across the peaceful water, feel their cool smoothness in your hand, or accidentally hit your dog right in the noggin when you're aiming for a tree stump. (The fact that the dog is two feet in front of you and the intended tree stump is across the river is of no consequence.)<br /><br />Rocks do not belong in your yard, and they certainly do not belong in a PLANT BED that was obviously, undeniable constructed for the exact and specific purpose of digging holes in the ground for in which to place plants.<br /><br />I mean, hello, farmers curse the ground that is full of rocks. It breaks their plowshares and stubs their wittle toesies. Rocks + planting x cultivating = I'm very angry.<br /><br />As you can see, the previous owners of our new home did not have someone as wise as myself to warn them of the curse they were casting on the innocents to come behind them.<br /><br /></span><a style="font-family: trebuchet ms;" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj46sNsWNJIBIb7mHKrNvSKoET-87o22vJ1UDmLw01-TYO2qFNhj94t2s7XbTj-R8YDsYNy8dFVhQMbb_XvqJ0enJYrJZbFtyRImolH4G6iwZhTI1IAVuNHw9giZ-QApNM6afi-zbwf0tQ/s1600/photo.jpg"><img style="display: block; margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj46sNsWNJIBIb7mHKrNvSKoET-87o22vJ1UDmLw01-TYO2qFNhj94t2s7XbTj-R8YDsYNy8dFVhQMbb_XvqJ0enJYrJZbFtyRImolH4G6iwZhTI1IAVuNHw9giZ-QApNM6afi-zbwf0tQ/s320/photo.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5576342290744090754" border="0" /></a><br /><span style="font-family: trebuchet ms;font-family:arial;" >Sunday was supposed to be spent planting my flower bulbs and some dewberries Susannah gave me. The harmless little layer of pebbles on the plant bed ended up being a malicious shield of pebbles at least several layers of the earth deep. I swear I got at least to the outer core.<br /><br />I spent the better part of Sunday afternoon trying to remove the pebbles. I started out with a hand trowel, a kitchen sieve and a little bucket. Then, I realized that I pretty much wanted to shoot myself in eye. Then, I complained to Tanner, lamenting approximately 23 different ways about how stupid the previous owners were, how helpless I was and how my planter was doomed to a rocky death. Then, I wrote a short, sad ballad and played it for the dogs on the recorder I still have from my kindergarten music class at William B. Travis Elementary. Then I played Hot Cross Buns.<br /><br />Then, I figured out a better solution. I took two wheelbarrows and set them side by side. Over one, I placed a metal grate that used to be on Tanner's utility vehicle. I took shovels full of dirt and dumped it on the grate, then, once I got a good pile, moved the rocks and dirt around until the dirt was sifted through. Then, I dumped the rocks into the other wheelbarrow and started all over again.<br /><br /></span><a style="font-family: trebuchet ms;" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhnBlOGcuezOOTMt4CK4fXDzSeUlSZvt0LnFFKO3wRcjKtmf-0apXD326RqRfSkfUDx9VmKtXvVLjMv7VGFpRJq0gZXEKByOrdczRGzKfdB9fo2Ota0jdDbH8XGg4vO4KO3n190dYFPN-g/s1600/P2200317.JPG"><img style="display: block; margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhnBlOGcuezOOTMt4CK4fXDzSeUlSZvt0LnFFKO3wRcjKtmf-0apXD326RqRfSkfUDx9VmKtXvVLjMv7VGFpRJq0gZXEKByOrdczRGzKfdB9fo2Ota0jdDbH8XGg4vO4KO3n190dYFPN-g/s320/P2200317.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5576277174309930866" border="0" /></a><span style="font-family: trebuchet ms;font-family:arial;" >I was also battling a wild, killer onion with roots like spaghetti noodles that had taken over the planter.<br /><br /></span><a style="font-family: trebuchet ms;" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhQiOf2IgsUjn5eOXWtrx_v05zVEqqyhLSzPYnN0IN4yyrZ9UDFT7Mi67gBoK8wiRnf1ea9PN00fvJYXXKVSRQOd9IQjZeR1ULuexr5tKIptS-GsLQ9Zf86n3eQlqB_tM5WpkGVdtdJeQs/s1600/photo+2.jpg"><img style="display: block; margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhQiOf2IgsUjn5eOXWtrx_v05zVEqqyhLSzPYnN0IN4yyrZ9UDFT7Mi67gBoK8wiRnf1ea9PN00fvJYXXKVSRQOd9IQjZeR1ULuexr5tKIptS-GsLQ9Zf86n3eQlqB_tM5WpkGVdtdJeQs/s320/photo+2.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5576342292204440754" border="0" /></a><br /><span style="font-family: trebuchet ms;font-family:arial;" >Oh yeah, and for some reason, someone had buried plants in terracotta pots. In the ground. They put the plant in the pot, then buried the pot. So far, I've found four.<br /><br /></span><a style="font-family: trebuchet ms;" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj-gUbW6XyCdBgI__gxSkrbRaDTSsloYQI4HZewqiASfIOiBNcxMsmqxbiuwV0Gx_USPsp3ybpS2wy40t-7AAsmODlzjRrJ63nl5xfR84k37TnzUtz6jALnv-sEbP7PHPMMZ4kKunnNZkg/s1600/P2200313.JPG"><img style="display: block; margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj-gUbW6XyCdBgI__gxSkrbRaDTSsloYQI4HZewqiASfIOiBNcxMsmqxbiuwV0Gx_USPsp3ybpS2wy40t-7AAsmODlzjRrJ63nl5xfR84k37TnzUtz6jALnv-sEbP7PHPMMZ4kKunnNZkg/s320/P2200313.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5576277462999024322" border="0" /></a><br /><span style="font-family: trebuchet ms;font-family:arial;" >I spend several hours shoveling and sifting for rocks. It was kind of like sifting for gold, but more like the time when I was a child and swallowed a marble and had to poop in a bucket and someone had to sift through... never mind.<br /><br />I made about 5 feet of progress that Sunday afternoon sifting for rocks.<br /><br /></span><a style="font-family: trebuchet ms;" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiPGiM6iwCOTrMNHeeI2lzguft1PfSvMv2z4BjQfvvXDaaZ8qq8j4C540h-CmtdTdVOubR7czDyIWbfEVlbiG-LqFwk380A7t-TkrNQFLtI95ff2JY7LPjBHKk_wpsxD2_ijmozocrUfQI/s1600/photo+3.jpg"><img style="display: block; margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 240px; height: 320px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiPGiM6iwCOTrMNHeeI2lzguft1PfSvMv2z4BjQfvvXDaaZ8qq8j4C540h-CmtdTdVOubR7czDyIWbfEVlbiG-LqFwk380A7t-TkrNQFLtI95ff2JY7LPjBHKk_wpsxD2_ijmozocrUfQI/s320/photo+3.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5576342296588836226" border="0" /></a><br /><span style="font-family: trebuchet ms;font-family:arial;" ><br />The planter, which is along our shop, is 20 feet long.<br /><br />There is a cumulative 113 feet surrounding the house that is also "mulched" with rocks.<br /><br /></span><a style="font-family: trebuchet ms;" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjn8Bt6uFM160KviEJGsmlidWRiLlXRAMsLv3lZReETb6rOuIwJjBBoGvlm5wuZEOr7SCH1wj7TYL5jZLtTSpuHAJyoI8Q-ztzGyjijHA1cLLpL0wbvW_afUWdghqxMcZ2cT9x4YMtMy40/s1600/P2200316.JPG"><img style="display: block; margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjn8Bt6uFM160KviEJGsmlidWRiLlXRAMsLv3lZReETb6rOuIwJjBBoGvlm5wuZEOr7SCH1wj7TYL5jZLtTSpuHAJyoI8Q-ztzGyjijHA1cLLpL0wbvW_afUWdghqxMcZ2cT9x4YMtMy40/s320/P2200316.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5576277742403594274" border="0" /></a><br /><span style="font-family: trebuchet ms;font-family:arial;" >I'd say I have a nice little project on my hands. (The rocks around the house are larger than the rocks around the shop, which are more like pebbles.)<br /><br />And we have no clue what do with the rocks.<br /><br />Any suggestions?<br /><br />I don't know where the previous owners live, or else... never mind.<br /></span>Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05407825751018840480noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1989590509648610688.post-13674814534566413622011-01-09T19:48:00.002-06:002011-01-09T19:57:19.449-06:00A Boy's Dream<span style="font-family: trebuchet ms;">Tonight, one of Tanner's dreams came true.<br /><br />For $1, at a Redbox outside Walmart, he rented a movie.<br /><br />He took that movie home, and placed it in the DVD player.<br /><br />The cast included Sylvester Stallone, Bruce Willis, Arnold Schwarzenegger, Jet Li, Randy Couture (UFC fighter), and Stone Cold Steve Austin.<br /><br />In the first two minutes, as I was cooking dinner, I heard him gleefully exclaim from the living room,<br /><br />"They already blew a guy in half! This is going to be good!"<br /><br />Sounds like a gem.<br /></span>Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05407825751018840480noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1989590509648610688.post-52253887332743662362011-01-04T20:23:00.005-06:002011-01-04T20:59:46.017-06:00We Bought a House Today<span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;">It's true. After work, Tanner and I went downtown to sign the papers and close on our first home!<br /><br /><div style="text-align: center;"><div style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhmyj21yUYO_M4mO4EqO7BqbtvLH8cZe92qN-kIi06wRDewv1u4qiDiY0BkZXVIof0DdY_cTuoGkrznO38ntTFjk9FOpbK785CzP5dL7Chj0sFzWR7jOP60RktX255j7IuQ7SKOmUQlzR4/s1600/P1040216.JPG"><img style="display: block; margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhmyj21yUYO_M4mO4EqO7BqbtvLH8cZe92qN-kIi06wRDewv1u4qiDiY0BkZXVIof0DdY_cTuoGkrznO38ntTFjk9FOpbK785CzP5dL7Chj0sFzWR7jOP60RktX255j7IuQ7SKOmUQlzR4/s320/P1040216.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5558528884968822370" border="0" /></a><span style="font-size:85%;">Our first night in our first home</span><br /></div><br /></div><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;">About four months ago, we started looking for a house in the Weatherford area. We wanted something with acreage for the horses, a yard for the dogs, and a decent house. Oh, and in a specific side of town and at an affordable price! It turns out that getting all of those stars to align is not aeasy. I was getting to the point where I was ready to sell the horses and all our possessions and move to a shanty in Maui.<br /><br />Then, the perfect deal presented itself with all the criteria we were looking for. A brick home on 2 acres at the end of a quiet dead end road in the right rural area – and a bargain price. It took about a month for all the wheeling and dealing to go through. Offers, counter offers, inspections, repairs, approvals – it's all enough to make me want to puke. Tanner handled most of everything, for which I am sincerely and abundantly grateful. He is much more calm, confident and willing to relinquish control than I am.<br /><br />Now that the process is finished, I'm a little shocked and so thankful that we have our first home! I am very humbled by how God has worked things for our good. Early in 2010, I lost a great job when the company relocated to Colorado. It was my first job, and my firs time to lose a job, which can be a little scary. I received a severance package though and was paid extra to stay on as a contractor until my replacement was hired. We were able to put all that money away and use it as the down payment on this home. I was blessed to find a new job with only a week layover in between and Tanner has been securely holding a really wonderful job in the natural gas industry here in Weatherford. With the down payment ready and the insanely low interest rate Tanner was able to secure, we were able to close and secure a monthly mortgage payment on a 15 year loan at only $18 more than we were paying each month in our rental.<br /><br />And that's not even the best part. Most wonderful of all, we don't have to move. We bought the house that Tanner first rented in November of 2008 when he moved to Weatherford. We've been living in it as a married couple for the last year. We knew exactly what we were getting, good and bad, as buyers. We don't have to pack. We don't have to move. We don't have to unpack.<br /></span><div style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjc0e5VzAyfzoSzuBY7EptYZJBeo2ZfZP361CSGVpVDk35YrKvV2fxXWpC3HUDSTQZYZaXjLTwBsEYx4kzgeVaoto8_VRA_6y3nyc7eCyuBHRUqMF8batHcaisP6CqtDsz_iDDvRYLJjXc/s1600/PA310017.JPG"><img style="display: block; margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjc0e5VzAyfzoSzuBY7EptYZJBeo2ZfZP361CSGVpVDk35YrKvV2fxXWpC3HUDSTQZYZaXjLTwBsEYx4kzgeVaoto8_VRA_6y3nyc7eCyuBHRUqMF8batHcaisP6CqtDsz_iDDvRYLJjXc/s320/PA310017.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5558528893440871650" border="0" /></a><span style="font-size:85%;">Our home (take during the fall)</span><br /><br /><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgS10goVDsuu5pm73wJsnWOsgVm7hFQ9QbPA4BoWY2rd0Cn7hKUVDKG8kvT7V7WoP3Jh31SHwyXIcx61A8DiCuHwg2RNKjL_xiWska7QpD_F2rK4Cs6x0z5t3alxdhfmdrzg7h0mkT1sWI/s1600/PA310004.JPG"><img style="display: block; margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgS10goVDsuu5pm73wJsnWOsgVm7hFQ9QbPA4BoWY2rd0Cn7hKUVDKG8kvT7V7WoP3Jh31SHwyXIcx61A8DiCuHwg2RNKjL_xiWska7QpD_F2rK4Cs6x0z5t3alxdhfmdrzg7h0mkT1sWI/s320/PA310004.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5558528889206120098" border="0" /></a><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh2CUwAWgxk-hTON-BLmrsyGt_8xM9GbRSa8J2RWQPQDOCTD0o2HgZhreciOxKsa-hUdq9NAXDRcMe8G2eyUVp1zvmTkNe_uwkHu3eshfyomXq6G2CXmaGH3lYM3ur9-8CJgtkG-zt-mvc/s1600/PA310008.JPG"><img style="display: block; margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh2CUwAWgxk-hTON-BLmrsyGt_8xM9GbRSa8J2RWQPQDOCTD0o2HgZhreciOxKsa-hUdq9NAXDRcMe8G2eyUVp1zvmTkNe_uwkHu3eshfyomXq6G2CXmaGH3lYM3ur9-8CJgtkG-zt-mvc/s320/PA310008.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5558528900425878658" border="0" /></a></div></span><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjhX6q8X-ypRuKVINarTmL7rSN7ZzNvO08bGjTaPYpTjTkZ28iQWp4ozgZEOdz9x79N26LFe21VIlJX2RPjVLiLJobyKrVRLiv9LGffut2A9E91PTU22ZoWAIMfi8y8B8bu1mKzA9wpaxo/s1600/PA310016.JPG"><img style="display: block; margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjhX6q8X-ypRuKVINarTmL7rSN7ZzNvO08bGjTaPYpTjTkZ28iQWp4ozgZEOdz9x79N26LFe21VIlJX2RPjVLiLJobyKrVRLiv9LGffut2A9E91PTU22ZoWAIMfi8y8B8bu1mKzA9wpaxo/s320/PA310016.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5558530905717928178" border="0" /></a><br /><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;"><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;"><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;">The only thing left to do was celebrate. We hit up Montana's for fried pickles, chicken fried chicken, fried porkchop, mashed and baked taters, Texas toast and salad.<br /><br />I'm not kidding.<br /><br />At the restaurant, I asked Tanner if he would carry me over the threshold of our new home. He conveniently forgot and is passed out on the couch with Gladiator and spilled guts running soothingly on the TV.<br /><br />It may be our first night in our "new" home, but some things will never change.<br /><br /></span></span></span>Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05407825751018840480noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1989590509648610688.post-19274093615371096072011-01-03T17:07:00.004-06:002011-01-03T17:21:31.291-06:00Naked and Bears<span style="font-size:100%;"><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;">There is nudity in our living room.<br /><p>In record time (which for me constitutes Jan. 2), I stripped away all the Christmas decorations in the house except for the tree itself, which now stands naked in the living room. For the last few weeks, it was always there welcoming me as I rounded the kaliche road to the house. Thanks to the miracle of the $9.99 timer I bought at Bed Bath & Beyond, our front window was aglow each evening with the twinkling of colored lights. I couldn’t wait to get in the house and get cozy by the tree with a glass of wine or a mug of tea.<br /></p> <p>Then Tanner would come home and ruin it all by changing the TV channel to Rambo III and making me watch guts spill all over the screen.</p><p>Now, I feel kind of bad for the tree. Maybe it reminds me too much of what my face will be like in a few years – dry, discolored, plain. I’m already using line-smoothing under eye concealer for goodness sake!<br /></p><p>Really, I think I just remember how jolly and beautiful the tree looked just days ago. I imagine the tree feels a little sad now. Which is stupid, because it has no feelings. However, until I was married, I had to arrange the discarded stuffed animals from my bed comfortably on a pillow on the floor because I didn’t want them to lay all askew and disjointed on the floor through the night – that might hurt them. Now I just have one stuffed animal. I might or might not sleep with him.<br /></p><p>I could easily draw all kinds of deep symbolism from my dejected tree about post-holiday sadness or how all earthly things lose their beauty and fade away. If that’s what you’re thinking, awesome. Elaborate in your mind and discover new hidden meanings. Critical thinking, self-examination and cultural analysis are so important.<br /></p><p>I, however, am going to tell you about some of my favorite Christmas ornaments. I snapped pictures while I packing up.</p><p><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhBvRGrLbjdWh01X5xB4CfjG0y3oTrcghp-NZwlSjf-5I4S3yJrvsigbNZLkajF_RZUuSZ6Sf3OPBQve0Skn-y27-ZEofjAaf9nHvxhyphenhyphenzTyMWHvNIvetD4y89oBIs_RmxMfUBbenuW7noU/s1600/BEAR.jpg"><img style="display: block; margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 237px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhBvRGrLbjdWh01X5xB4CfjG0y3oTrcghp-NZwlSjf-5I4S3yJrvsigbNZLkajF_RZUuSZ6Sf3OPBQve0Skn-y27-ZEofjAaf9nHvxhyphenhyphenzTyMWHvNIvetD4y89oBIs_RmxMfUBbenuW7noU/s320/BEAR.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5558103528147265858" border="0" /></a></p> <p><b>This bear </b><span style="font-weight: normal;">represents the fact that I am bear bait. When I lived in Canada, my family took the visiting Keaton family to the Canadian Rockies. We went on lil hike from the roadside to get a view of a lake. We walked out onto a foot bridge, took some pictures, then turned around to see a huge 800 lb grizzly bear blocking our way.<br /></span></p><p>I was about 12 and I cussed in front of my parents. I either said the s-word or the f-word, I can’t remember. I tried to run away, but my dad told me to bring back the camera. The men started stomping and clapping, which is ill advised. I imagine the bear rolled his eyes as he started walking away. Then my dad whistled, and that pissed Griz off. He started coming back. My dad instructed me to run, also ill advised. I ran so freakin fast, there are no words to describe it. I found a horse corral, a truck and a shed at the top of a hill. I tried to hide under the truck, but there was a disgusting marmot or some kind of large rodent under there. So, I hid behind the shed for what felt like hours, then walked back down the hill expecting to find my family mauled and eaten.<br /></p><p>But everyone was fine and my mom was mad because she couldn’t find me. I was hidden pretty well.</p><p>Last year, Tanner and I took a trip back to Canada. I showed Tanner where I used to live (Edmonton, Alberta) and then took him to the Rockies. (I should/might blog about this trip someday…) One evening, we decided to go for a late hike. It was sometime around 7:30 or 8 p.m. It wasn’t getting dark until around 9:30 p.m., but these dusk hikes are not safe. As I found out upon later research, they are somewhat ill advised.<br /></p><p>The hike started on the side of the road then wound up through a thickly wooded trail. We parked in the parking lot of a horse stable across the street. I had bought some bear spray in town before we went for the hike, because my original bear encounter had left me ridiculously freaked out and afraid of bears/hiking/the Rockies/Canada/life/etc. The guide who sold us the spray told us a story of how he and some friends were attacked by a bear as they were bike riding in a similar area to where we were heading… but that was just because the parks dept. had scented the area and hung up lines to catch hair samples. Oh.<br /></p><p>Tanner and I were creeped the whole time. The man’s story story, dusk, heavy forestation and an active imagination let to a severely freaked out state. The whole time during our ascent through the woods, I was thinking of how scared I was and how I wished we hadn’t gone on this hike. But, not wanting to ruin it for Tanner, I tried to act brave and pretend I was having fun. Some comments to the effect of “this looks like a perfect place for a bear” were made him or myself, but that was about it. Finally we made it to a beautiful clearing that overlooked a bog. We watched for a while, hoping to spot a moose, the turned back around to head back to the car. On the way back, we both felt really uncomfortable and it was obvious. We had a weird, scared feeling and I was clapping my hands and singing bear deterrent songs. I have a really scary voice.<br /></p><p>As we were getting fairly close to the road, we rounded a blind corner. Sure enough, there was a dang bear. I got a nice profile view of it walking across the path. I looked at it for about only a split second before cussing (apparently I need to work on this), turning around and hissing at Tanner, but I was pretty sure I saw the distinct hump of a Grizzly. It looked like a yearling bear, which immediately made me think of “mama” somewhere nearby. (It might have been an adult cinnamon Black Bear but I’m really not sure and Grizzlies are more dramatic, so shut up.) Apparently, my little outburst alerted the bear to our arrival, because after I had made an about-face and given Tanner a clear view of the bugger, it was standing on its back legs and looking straight at us.<br /></p><p>We were on a trail, surrounded by trees, in dimming light at 8-something p.m., with no one around and a bear blocking our way back to the car. Tanner whipped out that bear spray, and we started walking back the way we came. I was by this time praying out loud very fervently and somewhat incoherently. At least I had matured spiritually from cussing to praying. I saw the error of my ways. And I was afraid I was going to die.<br /></p><p>We found a break in the path and a fork that looked like it would take us back toward the car. The fork ran parallel to the path the bear was on and although you couldn’t see one path from the other, they didn’t fee too far away. 50 yards, maybe? Walking back toward the road and knowing how close that stupid bear could be at any moment was one of the most terrifying experiences of my life. It was a moment of serious elation when we finally hid the road and saw the parking lot.<br /></p><p>Of course, there was a car driving by at the exact moment Tanner and I busted mad-eyed from the woods and stumbled and ran to the parking lot. They were probably confused.</p> <p>This turned out to be a long story.<br /></p><p>One ornament is apparently enough for today.</p></span></span>Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05407825751018840480noreply@blogger.com0