tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-36710917981500558202024-02-07T13:50:17.888-06:00Close to Homesatoddhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02563833119636793408noreply@blogger.comBlogger67125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3671091798150055820.post-35881897070532539852016-04-22T13:09:00.000-05:002016-04-22T13:09:17.198-05:00Where the heart is.When I graduated high school a whole 10 (okay, 15) years ago, I wanted to leave. I wanted to get away from the tiny little town I grew up in. So the summer I graduated, I left. I moved to the Minneapolis area. I didn't know anyone. I had never driven in traffic like that (and never care to again.) It was scary, exhilarating, and lonely at times. But I made friends soon enough. I learned how to drive in the traffic. I can't say I fit in. I was lovingly referred to as the Amish girl. Everyone cracked jokes about my up-bringing and asked if I churned my own butter. For the record, no.<br />
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After school we moved back to our hometown area briefly, so Craig could finish college. And then we made the move to Omaha. Back to the city life I had missed. Being five minutes to the nearest Target. The hustle and bustle. Actual real-life strangers, seems odd when you grow up in a small town to think that you would go to the grocery store or mall and not see a single person that you know. I hated that when I was younger. Everyone always knew everyone else's business. <br />
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And now, here we are. Recently moved to a small town. Not as small as where I grew up, but the kids' school is pretty comparable. Craig says we live in the country. I tell him unless you have to take a dirt road and your nearest neighbor is a mile away, it's not really the country. <br />
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I was nervous, going back to the small town setting, about making friends. About being back in the everyone knows everyone. But I am happy to say, I've met an amazing group of friends here. And I actually love seeing people I know every time I go to the store. It may be the only adult contact I've had in hours!!! <br />
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There's a comfort here that I can't explain. Maybe it's the familiarity of the lifestyle. Where the kids go to school, the town reminds me so much of where I grew up. I was taken a little by surprise by how fast we all adjusted. Like we have always been here. I actually was teary-eyed the first week here, not because of the changes, but because when we drove by anyone, they waved. People I have never met. It was a simple gesture. But it had been SO long since that happened. Since everyone waved. Callie thought I was bonkers. But the tears rolled down my cheeks. I didn't even know I missed it. <br />
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So now that I'm older, now that I'm a mother, I am actually learning I prefer knowing everyone. I love that my kids can now go outside with no fences, and just get lost in play. They already have a trail worn to their friends' house, and a secret hideaway spot where their imagination can run wild. I feel safe because everyone knows everyone. Everyone looks out for each other's kids. I don't feel scared to let them go and explore. (Not true. Weston is not allowed out of my sight. If you've met him, you know why.) Now I see the value in the semi-country life. I am okay with a 30 minute drive to Target, because the trade off benefits my children. <br />
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To the younger me, I'm glad you went off and moved so far away, to a big city. It was an experience that will never be forgotten. But, I'm glad to feel home again.<br />
<br />satoddhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02563833119636793408noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3671091798150055820.post-38275754396210257682016-03-21T09:05:00.000-05:002016-03-21T09:17:13.783-05:00Walk of ShameFor a mom like me, who is happily married, the walk of shame means something entirely different than where your dirty mind is right now. You should be ashamed of yourself. <br />
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To me, the walk of shame is pretty much every day I take the kids to school. For several reasons. <br />
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One, because I'm likely (likely, haha) still in my pajamas. You know, last night's clothes. My hair looks like I just stuck a fork in an outlet, or maybe just took a few lightening bolts to the head. Sometimes, if I'm feeling really ambitious, you'll see me with a sparkly headband. My plan is for the sparkles to keep your attention so you don't see the horrifying image that is naturally curly hair on day two after a rough night of sleep. I'm probably wearing some type of yoga pants or capris that I can assure you have never been to yoga. (They do go to the gym, but definitely not to yoga.) They don't make sunglasses big enough to cover my whole face, which is kind of disappointing. Even my Laguna Beach sunglasses aren't big enough. I probably have flip flops on, maybe they match, maybe they don't, you'll never know. I won't get out of the van. For any purpose. Unless maybe if it's on fire. <br />
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Two, let's go back to that van that I wouldn't get out of. Yes, the van. The VAN. Sounds worse every time I say it. Part of me loves my mini-van. And I will tell you a million times how much those little buttons mean to me. How I love when my hands are full, I can open every door with a push of my thumb. The kids can get in and out without me worrying they are door dinging every single car we park next to (have you met Callie??). And I love that we can ride comfortably, have room for extra stuff and extra kids or friends if need be. But part of me hates it. The part that thinks I still had an ounce of cool left. Had. Don't have anymore. Part of your soul dies when you buy a mini-van (if you were like me and SWORE you would NEVER drive one.) If you love your grocery getter, I am happy for you. I want you to be happy. I'm not judging you. I am judging me. There's a cooler in my mini-van. It's kind of neat. I kept chicken cold the other day while I picked the kids up from school. I've kept my breastmilk cold. (Probably not what the Honda makers were thinking would be in there when they added a cooler, but thanks anyway, Honda makers. It is too small to hold a bottle of wine though. Take note, Honda makers.) But part of me can't help thinking, as I'm driving down the road, passing all of the cool moms in their SUV's, that when I push that button to let the kids out, my soul is jumping out of the door with them. It has everything to do with the van. Nothing to do with the fact that I might be listening to Hanson or Ace of Base. <br />
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Three, there's a really good chance I haven't brushed my teeth yet. Walk of shame worthy. Enough said. <br />
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So if you see me in my van in the morning, I will wave and smile at you. You can wave and smile but don't make eye contact please. Just look at the sparkles. Keep your eyes on the sparkles.<br />
<br />satoddhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02563833119636793408noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3671091798150055820.post-37248059849422366152015-10-05T10:11:00.001-05:002015-10-05T10:48:08.392-05:00Breaking the SilenceDisclaimer: If you feel like sharing about your miscarriages or losses in life, I support that. If you feel like it's easier to deal with alone, I support that. Each person is different, and handles everything differently, and that's OK. I have done both, silent and alone, and for me, I've learned the silence only brought more pain, shame, and guilt.<br />
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That being said, as most of you know, I had my third miscarriage last Sunday. I had a feeling when I started some heavy spotting and major cramping Friday. But I held out for hope. I was taking progesterone, which worked for me with Weston. I had blood tests, and my hcg levels were doubling and extremely high. I felt really confident in this pregnancy. I thought, some women have spotting, it's normal. Don't worry. Some women cramp. It's normal. I probably just need to drink more water and put my feet up. It's normal. It'll all be ok, and in May, we'll be a family of six. Have faith in your body. I took my vitamins. I stopped taking any medications that weren't safe. I was taking it as easy I as I could as a wife and mommy, and owner of two businesses. I really thought I had this one in the bag. That my last loss was my last loss. We wanted one more, and it was going to be such a cherished pregnancy, knowing it would be my last. </div>
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We were back in South Sioux, helping Craig's parents move into their beautiful new home. It was so fun to have family around, and moving into a new house is so exciting. The kids were even super excited to help Grammy and Grumpa. I had a lot of cramping Saturday, but pushed through and didn't overdo myself. Sunday morning I woke up with extremely heavy bleeding, worse than after I had my babies. TMI for some of you, sorry. You might want to skip the rest of this paragraph. I was soaking through a pad in about 5 minutes. Not normal. I could barely walk. Not normal. I was feeling very dizzy and weak. Not normal. I was seeing spots. Not normal. By the time I made it to the ER, my blood pressure was very low and dropping, and I was tagged for a blood blank transfusion. I had never seen so much blood loss. I was so scared, and so thankful my Mom was there (she's a nurse), to calm my nerves. The nurses were all awesome, keeping me calm, and the nurse in charge got my IV in on the first try, which never happens. I had an ultrasound, a pelvic exam, where I learned my uterus is severely tilted to the back, so much so even two Dr's and lots of pain later, they could not get any tissue out that they saw was there on the ultrasound. So, this meant I needed to have surgery. <br />
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With the other two losses, everything just passed naturally and no surgery was needed. I was really scared, and called Craig immediately and told him to come to the hospital. He didn't know what a D&C was, and to be honest, I really didn't either. They took me back to the OR immediately, because of all of my blood loss, put me to sleep, and when I woke up, I was on the labor and delivery floor. I was in a lot of pain. Physical and emotional. I really thought this last pregnancy was going to be a success. I felt like a failure. I felt shame. I felt heartbroken. It's hard for some people, especially men, I think to understand. I am a super emotional person. Most of you probably know that. And I'm a dreamer. And the minute, no, the second, I get a positive pregnancy test, I start planning. I start preparing my heart for another baby. I start thinking of names. I think of if this baby will be a boy or girl. If they will look like me, or Craig, or somewhere in-between. If they will have Callie's beautiful eyes or Tanner's sense of humor, or Weston's little smile. I'm instantly bonded with this tiny ball of cells growing inside of me. It's a baby to me. It's part of our future. And now, all of that was gone. Again. I can't tell you how painful it is to have every single nurse and doctor ask you, "How many pregnancies have you had? And how many living children do you have?" It's heart-wrenching. <br />
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But with all of this pain, this week, God is showing me my blessings. I've been pregnant six times. I have three living children. I HAVE THREE LIVING CHILDREN. They are healthy. They are beautiful. They are funny, smart, and caring. I am blessed. I am so lucky. I have so many friends who struggle with fertility, some with getting pregnant, some with carrying a pregnancy, some with both, and some who can't have any biological children at all. I have some friends who have not had nearly enough time with their babies before they left this earth. They are all so strong. And I am so blessed.<br />
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I have the best friends. The best family. The out-pouring of support and love shown to me this week has shown me who my friends are. Who I can count on. Who is willing to stop in their busy day to leave me a note or say a prayer for our family. And this is why, this time, I decided to share it. I've done it alone, and it sucks. I've now done it "in public" and well, it still sucks, but I don't feel alone. I feel lifted up. Writing is such therapy for me, and a release. I am not a bottle it up kind of person. I definitely wear my heart on my sleeve. <br />
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If you've gone through a loss, don't go through it alone. If you don't want to share it with the world, I understand that. Everyone has their comfort levels. I'm pushing mine, I'm telling you! But I'm doing it in hopes that I can help a friend going through the same thing. Or in hopes to "normalize" talking about it, so we don't have to suffer in pain, shame, guilt, and silence alone. But talk to someone about it. A friend (me!), your spouse, your mom, your dad, your siblings whoever you feel comfortable with. And just know that it's not your fault. You're not alone. <br />
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Looking forward, we will try again, when the doctor says it's safe to. I will probably be a nervous wreck for a while. Miscarriages steal your peace. Every twinge, every little teensy spot of blood, every little cramp brings a mountain of worry. But I will get through it, I will have faith in my body, in my doctors, and most importantly in God that whatever His will is, will be done. And in the meantime, while my body recovers, I will be so thankful for the children I have, the husband I have, my friends and my family, and doctors, nurses, and medicine. And I will be praying that my 7th pregnancy is a successful one, with a beautiful little baby that might have Callie's beautiful eyes, Tanner's sense of humor, or Weston's little smile. <br />
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satoddhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02563833119636793408noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3671091798150055820.post-55988931899298708172015-05-06T21:37:00.000-05:002015-05-06T21:38:54.603-05:00Back from RetirementI guess you could call me the Brett Favre of blogging. Although I've been writing my blogs, I haven't been publishing them. Sometimes you need to get stuff "out" without putting it "out there." <br />
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I posted a link to another blog on Facebook today. Some of you may have seen it. It's something I often think about, in my line of work, and try to understand. <br />
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Let me start out by saying, I know many parents who do so much for their kids, and it is out of love. It's well-intentioned. And let's face it, if you've watched the news lately, you could do a whole lot worse. But I think something that is completely crippling our children is that we are constantly doing for them. Things they can do. Things they should do. Things you have to teach them to do. <br />
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I know why parents do things for their kids, especially young kids. It's easier. It's faster. It's done the right way the first time. But what are you teaching your kids? That they aren't capable? That they can't do anything they put their mind to? That they need to seek assistance on every single task? They can't do it right? <br />
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I have OCD. I admit that letting my kids help around the house really tests me. I have to physically stop myself from reloading the dishwasher MY way. I have to stop straightening their covers after they've made their bed. I have to let their work shine. <br />
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We have the "3 Time Try" rule at our house. If that button is giving you a hard time, you try at least three times on your own before asking for help. And if they can get it on try one or two, they are literally beaming with pride, and so am I. I mean, why would children (or anyone) do anything on their own if they know someone else will do it for them?? Kids are smart, and they are very fast learners. <br />
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As most of you know, I run an in-home daycare. I have to run a tight ship. There's only one of me and several of them, so they have to learn a lot patience, independence, and problem-solving skills. I have so many parents ask me "How do you do it? How do you get them all to sleep at the same time? Use manners? Clean up their own messes?" Answer is simple. I expect them to, and they know that. It takes time, routine, and consistency. <br />
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We all love our kids so much. And sometimes it does really feel good to be needed, but let's not put our children in a situation where they will feel inadequate. Build them up. Keep them trying. And then, here's the best part, you'll see them grow and learn in so many ways, and build their self-esteem in a positive way. Don't just tell them how great they are, let them show you. satoddhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02563833119636793408noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3671091798150055820.post-36759098790690212642013-12-13T07:33:00.000-06:002013-12-13T09:45:12.542-06:00"Time" Magazine Got It Wrong...Move over Miley. Sorry, Royal Baby George. The most fascinating person of 2013 is the Elf itself. Okay, maybe not most fascinating, but definitely one of the most polarizing. He or She, depending on your preference, is more talked about this time of year than the Presidential "funeral selfie" or the foam finger. <br />
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Elf on the Shelf is the Kim Kardashian of Christmas. Fake, plastic face, cold? No, that's not why. Either loved or hated, the Elf on the Shelf is a major source of contention in our society. And the Elf has the biggest paparazzi I've ever seen. We've all seen the sweet side, but we've also seen some photos floating around the internet of our friend, the Elf, in some very compromising positions. <br />
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Do I love or hate the Elf, you ask? Truth is, I haven't decided yet. Really awesome moms love the Elf because they get to show off their creativity (or Pinterest addiction). Really cool moms don't even do the Elf, or do just the basics, because the Elf tops the list that "ain't nobody got time for." I'm somewhere in the middle of awesome and cool. So I decided to make a list of things I love and things I hate about the Elf. Let's be a ball of positivity and start with hate.<br />
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<span style="color: black;"><u>Ten Things I Hate About You, Mr. Elf:</u></span></div>
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I hate the way you look at me, </div>
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and your creepy hair. </div>
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I hate the way you pressure me</div>
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to move you here and there. </div>
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I hate your big dumb elf hat,</div>
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and your sewn together hands. </div>
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I hate all of the messes you make,</div>
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and how your legs cannot stand. </div>
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I hate the way I do all of the work, </div>
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and you take all of the glory.</div>
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I hate that I can't touch you,</div>
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who wrote this stinkin' story? </div>
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But mostly I hate the way I don't hate you,</div>
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Okay well maybe a little bit,</div>
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afterall. </div>
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Now let's move on the love part. This part won't be a poem. That's on my list of things I "ain't got any time for" right now. Sorry to disappoint. </div>
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I love the way my kids get so excited to hunt for you every morning. I love that you're a tradition. I love that you are a tool for me to help them believe the magic of the season. I love to see them rush out of bed (okay, maybe not when it's before 7) to see what crazy thing you're doing. And for them, the messier, the better. And for the record, my kids clean up ANY mess the Elf makes. </div>
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So, I do it for the magic. For the fun. For the memories. And for the tradition. Love the Elf or hate it, I have a feeling the little creep is here to stay. </div>
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satoddhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02563833119636793408noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3671091798150055820.post-17590888294721528192013-11-26T13:46:00.000-06:002013-11-26T13:46:42.936-06:00I'm "part of the problem." And I'm okay with it.I read a Facebook post the other day that said, "If you shop on Thanksgiving, You are part of the problem."<br />
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I guess, then, I am. <br />
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I've never gone "Black Friday" shopping on Thanksgiving. But I might. I'm okay with the option. <br />
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My husband and several family members and friends work for a grocery store. They've always had to work on Thanksgiving. Christmas Eve. Easter. 4th of July. New Year's. Name the holiday, aside from Christmas, and they are usually working. And it's usually "all hands on deck" busy in the store, at least until after lunch time. It's been this way as long as I can remember. Does it stink not having my husband around sometimes? Yes. Sometimes I wish he were home with us. But I'm thankful he has a job. I'm thankful he's providing for his family. I'm thankful that myself and others can run out and grab a last minute pie or, let's be honest, hard alcohol. <br />
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There's never been an uproar about grocery stores, or gas stations, or football (there's a lot of people away from their families in order for you to be with yours, watching football, eating, drinking *wink, wink*.) So maybe instead of complaining about it, which I have come to accept is human nature, just be thankful. If it upsets you, that's your right to be upset, but don't judge other people. When I worked retail, I actually LOVED working the holidays. Everyone was happy and the store was so busy that the day FLEW by. And, some companies give you holiday pay, which was a nice bonus. <br />
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My husband doesn't mind working holidays. We just celebrate when he gets home. Being together is the important part. And I knew when I "signed up" to marry him, that he would work retail the rest of his career. Just like he knew, when he chose his career, that holidays, weekends, evenings, they were all going to be in his future. It's a necessary evil. Would you complain if everything closed down for every holiday? Where do you draw the line? Which holidays are more important than others, and who gets to decide that?<br />
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So, I might shop on Thanksgiving this year. I have been a "Black Friday" shopper for years now. It's not even about the deals, as much as it's about the experience. I love the chaos. I love the "hunt." I love spending the time with the women in my family. I love escaping the "mommyhood" for a while to shop and leave the kids with their Daddy. It's a tradition now as much as the turkey. I've never encountered a rude person while shopping, never been trampled, and never get stressed out. You can refer to my post about how much fun I have on Black Friday <a href="http://satodd9281.blogspot.com/2010/11/let-me-count-ways.html">here.</a><br />
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Just because you don't like it, or don't agree with it, doesn't make it the right or wrong thing to do. This applies to oh so many issues that come up in life. Just be happy. It's so much more fun. <br />
satoddhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02563833119636793408noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3671091798150055820.post-63705983417772130732013-10-28T22:36:00.001-05:002013-10-28T22:36:21.706-05:00Adventures in BasketballCallie decided not to take dance classes this year. I have to admit, I was pretty disappointed. I loved the frilly and sparkly and girly adventure. I asked her if she'd like to try something new. Maybe gymnastics or swimming or basketball. She chose basketball. <br />
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I asked her why she didn't want to take dance lessons anymore, and she told me it was because she sweat too much, and she missed out on what was going on at home while she was in her one-hour-a-week class. I explained that basketball is a lot of running, and that it would actually take more time out of her week than dance did. Craig was all for basketball, as it was much, much, (did I say much?) cheaper than dance. <br />
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So, we had our first practice and game last week. How'd it go? <br />
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Callie had never played basketball. I'm pretty sure she had no idea on the concept, rules, or fundamentals of the game. And last week proved that. I was also quite confident she'd be injured, as she isn't very graceful. Last week also proved that.<br />
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She's only in first grade, so this is all for fun (thankfully). It's about learning at this stage. Craig took her to her first practice and reported back that she wasn't very good but was improving towards the end. And she had back to back games on Sunday. That was interesting. And entertaining. And, well, sort of exhausting.<br />
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She didn't handle the ball much, I am not sure she was very aware of its location 90% of the time. She got to inbound the ball a couple of times, until she kept handing it to the either team. She dribbled (I use that term loosely. Very loosely.) the ball down the court a time or two as well. I could tell that by the second game she was getting the hang of it. She was putting her hands up on defense and actually following the ball up and down the court. In between games is when her injury occurred, of course. A ball hit her tooth and knocked it right out. Luckily for her, it was a tooth that needed to come out and not a permanent tooth. I, in turn, lost the tooth somewhere that day but that's a whole other blog post! And the girls did a great job and won both games.<br />
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All in all, she did pretty well for a 6 year old. Tonight we had our second practice, and she made two shots in a row. A huge improvement. She dribbled better. She hustled more. She hugged me and told me she loved basketball. And that is what it's all about. <br />
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satoddhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02563833119636793408noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3671091798150055820.post-61488006937210930922012-11-01T12:27:00.002-05:002012-11-01T12:27:09.911-05:00Forever and Forever<div class="widget Blog" id="Blog1">
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Parenting, for me, has been such an exciting,
puzzling, and rewarding journey. We've had our share of ups and downs. Way more
ups than downs. And I am very thankful for that.<br /><br />And a couple of weeks
ago, I had one of those "up" moments. A really "up" moment. <br /><br />When my
daughter was born, my first baby, our Aunt Mel gave us a book called, "Guess How
Much I Love You.." You probably know the story. I was actually not familiar with
the book when I received it, and didn't pay much attention to it until we
brought her home from the hospital. <br /><br />The first day home, I decided to
take her to the rocker and read her a book. And that was the book that I chose.
It would be her first time hearing it, and my first time reading it. I remember
every single moment of reading that book, 5 years ago. It went a little like
this...<br /><br />Page one: Piece of cake. No problem.<br /><br />Page two: I started
to tear up.<br /><br />Page three: I couldn't even read it anymore. The book
actually sticks on that page, still after all of this time, from my tears.
<br /><br />Page four: My husband came in scared something was wrong, and he had to
finish the book.<br /><br /><br />As the months flew by, I was never able to finish
the book. I would sometimes get half way through, or close to the end, and I
would start crying again. Callie was six months old before I read the book to
her from cover to cover without weeping. I would still tear up, but the tears
would just fill my eyes. <br /><br /><br />We continue to read "Guess How Much I Love
You." Callie knows it's my favorite book. It's our special book. <br /><br />A
couple of weeks ago, Callie decided to choose THAT book to read to me. She's
been reading for a while now, but she's never chosen that book to read. And it
went a little like this....<br /><br />Page one: Tears.<br /><br />Page two:
Tears.<br /><br />Page three: Tears.<br /><br />
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<br />And so on. I was keeping them from "falling"
though. I was trying to be strong. But they were there. And they were different.
They were proud tears. They were "full circle" tears. My baby is reading to me.
And she's reading the first book I ever read to her. It's one of those moments
that you just know you'll remember for the rest of your life. <br /><br /><br />The
book ends with a popular saying, "I love you right up to the moon, and back."
And that's been our saying all of this time. I ask both kids, at least once a
day, "How much does Mommy love you?" And they respond, "Up to the moon and back,
forever and ever, and I love you sooooo much!" <br /><br />So thank you, Aunt Mel,
because I am sure when you purchased us this book, you probably had no idea how
much it would end up meaning to our family.<br /><br />I can't wait to hear Callie
read it to her children someday...</div>
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satoddhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02563833119636793408noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3671091798150055820.post-81629504204182030252012-09-29T14:54:00.002-05:002012-09-29T14:55:42.921-05:00Saying goodbye...What would you say to someone on the phone, if you knew it would be the last time you'd ever get to talk to them again? <br />
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My grandma isn't doing well. She's very fragile. She's withered away to almost nothing, she rarely opens her eyes, and she's in some pain. The hospice team is trying to keep her as comfortable as possible, but sometimes it's just not enough. She's not eating and rarely drinking. <br />
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She has said that she's ready to go...<br />
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I asked my Dad a few days ago if it'd be possible to call her. See, she went to Arizona in February, so I hadn't seen her since then. We had hope she'd be well enough to fly back home and live in a nursing home. That hope has diminished. No airline would let her board in the condition she's in. I even explained to my 5 year old daughter how Mimi, as we call her, would be home soon and I explained to her what a nursing home was and why Mimi needed to live there. I thought I would see her again, I thought I would be able to hug her again, and I thought I would be able to tell her how much I love her and how much she means to me. So I was crushed when I learned that she wouldn't be coming home. And my Dad had said she wasn't up for a phone call. Until, the Husker game. <br />
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The Husker game changed everything. She was awake. She had her eyes open. She was chatty and watching the game. My Dad called me and told me to call her right away. I did. And I had thought so long and hard about what I would say to her if I could talk to her one last time. I was nervous when my sister handed her the phone. I didn't want to say the wrong thing. Yet, I managed to.<br />
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"Hi Mimi!! How are you feeling?? I want to tell you how much I love you and I miss you."<br />
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She responded that she loves us so much and is so glad she got to talk to me. She told me to take care of my babies and that she's proud of me and she thinks about us all of the time. <br />
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I said, "I hear you're watching the game. The Huskers are kicking the crap out of Idaho State!" <br />
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Uh oh. My grandma, like most, is very polite and lady-like. I've never heard her say anything close to a swear word. She is still as sharp as ever, because she had the wit to tell me, "That's not very nice language!" <br />
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I didn't know whether to laugh or cry. Because it's so true to her form, to want me to be lady-like and to speak her mind, but part of me wanted to cry because that's not exactly how I saw what would likely be our last conversation going. I wanted it to be perfect. And I have been beating myself up about saying the "naughty" word. <br />
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I recovered by saying, "Mimi, it's okay when you are talking about the Huskers!" And I told her I loved her, that my children loved her so much, and I handed the phone to my sister. <br />
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Was that it? Was <strong>that</strong> the last thing she'd remember about me? That I had a foul mouth? Which, for the record, I don't think I do. <br />
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I know she's going to a better place, with no pain or loneliness. She'll be reunited with her husband, who passed away 20 years ago. She'll be reunited with a son, who she lost when he was a toddler, she'll be reunited with her parents, family, and so many friends. She's at peace with the Lord and I know she's going whip anyone who steps out of line up there right back into shape. And I know someday, I'll see her again and we'll talk for as long as we want to and I'll be able to hug her and kiss her like I want to do so badly right now. <br />
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I can't say how long she's going to live. Family is telling me maybe a week or a few more days. By the time this blog posts, she could be gone. Selfishly, I pray that she makes a miraculous recovery and she is able to fly back to Nebraska and that we'll watch a Husker game together soon. If she doesn't, I know she'll be watching over us and cheering right along with us every game day. And I will think twice about ever saying the "C" word ever, ever again. <br />
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<br />satoddhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02563833119636793408noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3671091798150055820.post-55864553332590497452012-09-29T14:53:00.003-05:002012-09-29T14:53:48.696-05:00My Tiny Dancer...My 5 year old daughter just started her third year of dance classes. We've made it through two years of Tap and Ballet. This year, she wanted to try something new. This year, my little lovely wanted to try Jazz and Hip Hop. As she got ready for class tonight, it made me think. <br />
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I could totally handle the Tap and Ballet. Cutesy little outfits, dancing to Taylor Swift or a princess themed song. Hair pinned neatly in a bun, toes pointed, chin up. But we're moving into a whole new world, pardon the Aladdin pun. A world of shorter, more provocative outfits. Sassier music. More suggestive dance poses and movements. And I ask myself, am I ready for this? Is her Daddy ready for this?<br />
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The studio does a pretty good job. I don't want to lead you to believe I would allow my daughter to dress like Julia Roberts in "Pretty Woman" dancing to "Baby Got Back." It's not quite that bad. But it's a small step away from a pretty bun and all things princess.<br />
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Mostly, I'm afraid of letting her grow up. Finding the balance of keeping her little and innocent, and not hovering over her. It's a small leap, I know, and there will be more. And the leaps will only get bigger. <br />
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It sounds so dramatic, but she is my baby. My first-born. So aren't we allowed to hold them a little closer? Wasn't she just a little baby, randomly bouncing to songs on the radio? Doing a little dance to Beyonce's "Single Ladies" in her underwear? Where has the time gone? <br />
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When I watch her dance, I beam with pride. My baby is up there, doing what she's supposed to be doing, having fun, and learning life long lessons. She loves the stage. And I love watching her. So right now I don't care if she's dancing to "A Whole New World" or if she's shaking her rump to Justin Bieber. As long as I get to be there, and get to watch her work her magic, I'll be happy. I'll be looking up at her in awe. The courage she has to take the stage and dance her heart out. And taking mine right along with her.<br />
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satoddhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02563833119636793408noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3671091798150055820.post-2990754241233272532012-09-05T13:41:00.001-05:002012-09-05T13:41:43.459-05:00Go Huskers, Part 2!Ahhh... yes. The big game. The first game of the season. The Huskers. And I had tickets. And I was so, so excited. I was going to go, tailgate, have so much fun. Eat. Drink. Watch the drunks. Witness an arrest. I was so pumped. <br />
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I ate. A little. I drank. A little. I didn't see a lot of drunks. And I didn't witness an arrest. Did I mention it was five million degrees outside that day? Yeah. I forgot that part. Oh and how did I get tickets? If you remember from <a href="http://satodd9281.blogspot.com/2011/11/go-huskers.html">last time</a>, I'm not the golden child. But the golden child already had tickets, so they defaulted to me. Yay me. <br />
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So the day started off great. I dropped the kids off at Darci's, my mom had come down to babysit them all day. We left around 10:15 so we would have time to tailgate and hang out. It was me, my sister Darci, her husband Marcus, my sister Frankie, her boyfriend/promised-to-be-husband Jon, a friend, Robert, and his daughter, Maggie. All 7 of us rode with Robert, since my husband said if I drove, we'd have to park in Gretna. I haven't gotten around to blogging about his obsession with the DDPP. If you don't know what that is, it's an entirely different topic for another day :) <br />
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Bromance in Full Swing in the front seat.<br />
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<span style="font-size: small;">It was sort of a long ride, I'm not going to lie to you. The discussion was on Hy-Vee, sports, and something about airplane restrooms that I won't repeat here. Thank me later. Or now. It was starting to get a little hot outside, but not too bad. We got to Lincoln, got parked, and began our tailgating. And as the day progressed, it got hotter, and hotter, and hotter. And I've learned a few things about tailgating. There should be at least the five following things at any respectable tailgate. </span><br />
<span style="font-size: small;"></span><br />
<span style="font-size: small;">1. Food/Drink. We'll lump this into one category. Most would prefer alcoholic drinks, if we're getting specific.</span><br />
<span style="font-size: small;"></span><br />
<span style="font-size: small;">2. Music or some other form of entertainment. The gentlemen we were tailgating with had a TV. That works. </span><br />
<span style="font-size: small;"></span><br />
<span style="font-size: small;">3. Proper utensils. I brought the cups, bowls, and plates. All matching and all very pretty. Things no one else brought this time would be tongs and silverware.</span><br />
<span style="font-size: small;"></span><br />
<span style="font-size: small;">4. Entertainment of the physical sort. Like a football. Or a bean bag toss game. And chairs for those who prefer to be less physical, more social.</span><br />
<span style="font-size: small;"></span><br />
<span style="font-size: small;">5. For sure. 110%. A canopy tent. That would have been really, really nice. Especially in triple digit weather. </span><br />
<span style="font-size: small;"></span><br />
<span style="font-size: small;"></span><br />
<span style="font-size: small;">Oh, and Robert, could have used some sort of fashion advice before he left the house in his red and black shirt, navy shorts, and red and black hat. But, he did remember his sunscreen. Bonus points for you, Bobby. Just not enough to do undo the navy shorts.</span> <br />
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No, those are NOT jeans. And yes. This is how Bobby puts on his sunscreen.<br />
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And yes. Those are pliers he is using to flip and remove the brats.<br />
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<span style="font-size: small;">Darci and Marcus have this crazy, silly tradition that you have to take a Jager shot before each game. And guess what? When you get there early, you take more than one. I'm pretty sure they took 3 or 4. I'm pretty sure they thought I did, too. It helps if you are quick and dump your shot out while all of their heads are back :) I had one. Haha suckas!!!</span><br />
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This is the ONE shot I actually took.<br />
P.S. Sort of uncomfortable asking your baby sister to take a photo of you while you take a shot. <br />
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On the left. My sort of baby sister. On the right. My really baby sister. <br />
My really baby sister isn't 21, and didn't do any shots, just for the record.<br />
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<span style="font-size: small;">So, it was finally game time. OR I should say an hour before. Because Bobby has to be in to see the band. Apparently it's his favorite part of the game. Wop wop! We got our seats. 45 yard line, East stadium, upper balcony. Awesome seats. Terrible, terrible, non-existent shade. I was there for about a minute. Couldn't take it anymore. I had to go sit outside in the breeze for a few minutes. And that's when the real action began. And I'm not talking about football.</span><br />
<span style="font-size: small;"></span><br />
<span style="font-size: small;">I came back in the stadium just after kick off and TD. I was standing right below my section, getting shade from the balcony. And then it started. Everyone started dropping like flies. Passing out. Having heat strokes. Seriously I saw about 7 people in a 20 minute time frame. And at least a dozen in my line of vision in the first quarter. One was pretty bad. It was an 87 year old woman. She had on long sleeves and pants. She fainted right in front of me, and I caught her before she cracked her head on the concrete floor. If you know me, you know I went through a stage when I didn't really "care for" the elderly. I know it's terrible to say, and I don't feel that way anymore, but in my early 20's I couldn't stand them. Except my family of course. I thought this was God's cruel payback to me. That this lady is going to die here in my lap. I fanned her face, I yelled for for help. She was out of it. Completely. Not talking or anything. The American Red Cross came and helped and took her away. And about 20 minutes later, she was back. Standing beside me. Confused, still. Almost out of water. Heading back up in the sun to find her seat. I stopped her. I asked her where her seat was, and she wasn't sure. I knew she wasn't all together yet upstairs. She was still off, I could see it in her eyes. I told her she could stand by me until half time so she could stay in the shade, and then I'd go help her find her seat and her son. So we chatted a bit. I bought her some more water since she left her purse with her son. I talked her out of going back up, alone, many times. I helped her watch for her son, who would surely be getting worried and come looking for her (only NOT). Half time came and went, and there was no sign of her son. She said we were standing by the stairs he would use to go look for her. Turns out we were not even close. We went up and down and up down until she finally remembered her section and we found her son. She seemed to be lively again and her eyes looked normal. So I informed her son what happened and that his mom would probably need to go home and not stay for the game. They stayed for the game, anyway. And he never once came looking for her. Sad. </span><br />
<span style="font-size: small;"></span><br />
<span style="font-size: small;">Anyway, I went back up to my seats and it was still hot. Actually I think it was more hot. Darci texted me that she had seats open near her, and they actually caught a bit of a breeze where they were. So I joined them.It was the first time the entire game that I actually sat down. (It was like 4th quarter I think) and got to actually watch the game.</span> <br />
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<span style="font-size: small;">And it was a pretty good game. But I want a do-over. I want a November game. And I still want to see someone get arrested, darn it!!!</span><br />
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satoddhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02563833119636793408noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3671091798150055820.post-80858094923194169682012-08-24T12:52:00.001-05:002012-08-24T12:52:33.047-05:00I... er... I mean SHE did it!!We did it. We made it. We, I mean SHE, started Kindergarten....<br />
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How'd the first 8 days go, you ask?? <br />
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Let's start at day 1. Day 1 was hard. Even Craig had to admit that it was harder than he thought it would be. Don't think I'm not onto your wearing sunglasses inside the school, Craig! It was hard. But it was fast. We walked her in. We dropped off her supplies. We hung her backpack. She sat at her seat and started playing with blocks. Bursting with pride. And then. We left. And I could feel my face start to get hot. And I could feel the tears forming. And then I was distracted. Tanner apparently didn't get the memo that you have to be 5 to go to Kindergarten. He was so mad that his sissy got to stay, but he didn't. I told him that it'd be okay, and that we were taking him to the zoo. He said he wanted his sissy to come with us. More tears for me. More tears for him. And Craig? He was still wearing his shades. But guess who didn't cry? Not a single tear. My Callie. <br />
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We took Tanner to the zoo and I kept checking the time to see if it was 2:00 so we could go pick up our baby. It took forever. Craig and Tanner rode the carousel at the zoo. I watched. I saw a probably 10 month old little girl riding with her Daddy. She looked like Callie. She had little sunglasses on. She looked so cute. And I had to restrain myself from kidnapping her. Ha. Just kidding. But I did have to restrain myself from walking over to her mother, shaking her, and telling her to enjoy every single second of her baby's life because if she even blinks, she'll miss it. Just like I'd been told a million times. I was that mom. I was that mom who was going to be that CRAZY mom who would actually approach a complete stranger, tears running down my face, and say those words. Would she listen? I lost it. I had held it together so well. Tears filled my eyes but never fell. Until the carousel. And some random baby girl and a dad and her mom. <br />
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We picked her up and she didn't look happy. I wanted to know why? What happened? Did she not like school? Was she bullied? Did she get sassy with her teacher and get in trouble? I walked over to her and she looked at me with tears in her eyes. But they weren't "those" tears that you are thinking. She was mad. She was mad at us for being there. She wanted to stay longer.<br />
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The next day, she got to ride the bus for the first time. She got on the bus proudly. She was so excited. She marched right up the stairs of the bus and never looked back. Not even a wave. This was much harder than dropping her off at school. I sobbed when I got back to the house. And I couldn't wait until she got home. <br />
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We waited for the bus to get back. It was a looong day. But the time had finally come. I was so excited. Tanner was so excited, too. (Oh, and he also missed the memo that he doesn't get to ride the bus, either). The bus stopped and I waited with so much excitement to hear about her day. And the bus door opened, two kids got off, and the bus left. And Callie was not one of the two kids. And I had a mini heart attack. It turns out she just missed her stop. She was still on the bus and thankfully some stranger somehow got her off the bus and she came running home with tears in her eyes. <br />
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So, we've made it. We've all cried. All for different reasons. We've survived the first couple of weeks. satoddhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02563833119636793408noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3671091798150055820.post-61732947487329547142012-07-30T18:24:00.003-05:002012-07-30T18:24:49.088-05:00And then there's that...Ohhh boy. It's been quite a July! We celebrated Callie's 5th Birthday. It was actually a really nice day. Hot, but not 100 degrees hot. We had a bounce house, our new swing set all together and ready to go, and a pool. The kids had a blast.<br />
<br />
We went to Adventureland (which was SO much fun!), and Callie went on her first roller coaster (The Dragon!). Tanner had a bout with Hand, Foot, and Mouth Disease for the first time. And then we kindly passed it on to half of Omaha, not knowing what was wrong with him! I ran my first 5k in 100 degree weather!! And this was all during our one week of vacation!!<br />
<br />
While on vacation, I decided to go to the doctor. I'd been feeling so tired lately, my hair has been falling out in clumps, and I've been working out and eating right for over a year and my weight never seemed to really budge, no matter how hard I worked. I was so, so tired and sore all of the time. So when I went to doctor, she found a lump on my throat. And she uttered the words "thyroid cancer." I'll tell you now, so you aren't in suspense, I do <strong><em>not </em></strong>have cancer. I went to an ultrasound, had blood work done, and it turns out I have something called Hashimoto's Disease. I had never heard of it before. But after talking with my doctor, it explains all of my symptoms. The time they have you wait for your results, I just have to say, is the worst part. Not knowing for days. After the doctor suggested the "c" word. I was a bit nervous. Although I kept repeating to myself that it couldn't be cancer, I'm too young to have cancer (which I know is not true.) So when I got the news that I was in the clear from cancer, and had this other disease I'd never heard of, I was just relieved. <br />
<br />
So now I'm taking medication. And I haven't noticed much of a difference, so far. But I'm so looking forward to feeling better. And to have my hard work actually pay off as far as my working out goes. I can't wait to have energy. And I can't wait for my hair to grow back in. There's no cure for Hashimoto's Disease, but it's so easy to treat. Just take a pill every day. I don't have a scientific definition, you can google it if you want to, but basically my immune system attacks my low-functioning thyroid. <br />
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Thank you so much to everyone who sent me thoughts and prayers and listened to me vent and obsess and wonder and worry. If you have Hashimoto's Disease, I'd love to hear about your experience with it.satoddhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02563833119636793408noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3671091798150055820.post-80718968963676310602012-06-28T11:45:00.003-05:002012-06-28T11:46:17.361-05:00Baby Blues...Shortly after giving birth, a lot of women go through what they call "Baby Blues." It's a hormonal, emotional, mixed up time that a lot of women (and husbands!!) endure. But, our bodies get back to normal (ha, right!) or at least our hormones do. And we slowly get over it. Everyone told me the signs to watch for, and what to do on your bad days. But no one told me it came back. No one told me that you'd go through all of these emotions all over again. Can you have those same feelings all over again?<br />
<br />
I feel like I do. I feel like I just had her, and my emotions are everywhere. She's not even gone yet (meaning, kindergarten) and I miss her. And I feel all of this pressure.<br />
<br />
I want her to be independent, I want to push her to do her best, I want her to listen, I want her to show respect, I want her to be kind and compassionate. I often find myself in a panic. Do I discipline her too much? Not enough? When she's not with me, is she using her manners? Have I prepared her for the sticky situations she might come acrossed on the bus? In the classroom? On the playground? How do you teach her to stand up for herself without being mean? Would she do the right thing if a stranger approached her? Are my expectations in line with her age or are they too high? Are they too low? <br />
<br />
How do I let her go without being scared? I grew up in a really safe, small community where neighbors looked out for each other, where your teachers taught your parents or siblings, and know your family inside and out. It won't happen like that here. And I don't want any of my fears rubbing off on her. (I never, ever bring up how I am a little sad around her, just for the record) I want her to be confident. I know she's just a kid. And maybe all of the questions come because I'm still trying to figure out how to be a mom of a big kid. I've only ever been a mom of a little kid. And maybe the lack of confidence I'm feeling is not in her, but in myself. <br />
<br />
I know a lot of you are probably thinking, lady, it's kindergarten. It's not a big deal. Every kid does it, right? But right now, this is my mountain. It's my climb. We're weeks away from the peak and the thought of looking over the edge is scary. Wondering if I did the job right? <br />
<br />
Time will tell. I think she's pretty amazing. I think she has two parents who love her and show her how to love. Scratch that. She has two parents, lots of grandparents, aunts, uncles, cousins, family, and friends supporting her. She's smart, funny, and beautiful. I am pretty confident she will breeze through her kindergarten year. I just hope I can keep up for the ride. And keep in mind that this is the first time I've had to really let go, but it won't be the last.satoddhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02563833119636793408noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3671091798150055820.post-62749310160709812642012-04-21T18:27:00.000-05:002012-04-21T18:27:41.559-05:00She's Gone Country...Most of you know, and maybe some of you don't believe, I grew up in the "country." Don't laugh. Not back-woods-toothless-barefootandpregnant-country. It was more like hospitality-repsectyourelders-okayyesdirtroads-country. <br />
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We had gravel roads to our house. It took me 20 minutes to get to school, and not because of traffic. Unless you count the combines. When you drive by, passing drivers wave. Really busy ones give you the finger. No, not <strong>that</strong> finger, the one finger wave. I remember asking my dad when I was younger, why he waved at everyone. You can pretty much assume he knows everyone, but what he said was very important. You never know when a stranger could be a friend, or if you were in some kind of trouble, if you are nice and respectful to people, they will help you. <br />
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As a teenager, I couldn't wait to get out of there. I wanted to be "free" from all of it. Everyone knowing your business, no where cool to shop, and I wanted to see what else was out there. <br />
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Even up until recently, if you asked me if I would ever move back, I would laugh and say no way. But today, today I miss it. I miss not having neighbors to worry about, leaving your doors unlocked, church with the same small group of people you've been praising God with your entire life. I miss the closeness and warmth that the "country" offers. <br />
<br />
And sending Callie to kindergarten at a school that has <strong>SIX </strong>kindergarten classes? Don't even get me started. It seems too big, too impersonal, and I wish I could send her to a much smaller school. The school I attended was a K-12 school. I went to the same school my entire life, with pretty much the same group of 35 or so kids. Like brothers and sisters to me. I wish she could have that. <br />
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Who knows if I'd actually really be happy there. I might have been in the "city" life too long. Two minutes to Target, Hy-Vee up the street, no gravel roads, a million restaurants and shops.... I probably couldn't really do it. And my husband is <strong>soooo </strong>not a country boy. He wouldn't last a day in the field, or standing it cow poop fixing fences, and he's terrified of horses. Needless to say, I know living on a farm will never happen for us. But thank God I still have home. Or what I call home. My dad's farm has everything that gives me a bit of comfort. <br />
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgFMZsgOKBjdg6Otc3nY4o_yZFfhbBnm5O_lZuNeCNm-aTyUcne8aCfnJIhNUydGiiNXxWwlnLi4d5xyB7f-ztJzrJWST4Bq3WznMyaSgtqQ3nssqL0f88sLfaXNbsCluPXsq11Bo5mT3gr/s1600/271_19506334074_503419074_645244_3350_n.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgFMZsgOKBjdg6Otc3nY4o_yZFfhbBnm5O_lZuNeCNm-aTyUcne8aCfnJIhNUydGiiNXxWwlnLi4d5xyB7f-ztJzrJWST4Bq3WznMyaSgtqQ3nssqL0f88sLfaXNbsCluPXsq11Bo5mT3gr/s320/271_19506334074_503419074_645244_3350_n.jpg" width="240" /></a></div>satoddhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02563833119636793408noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3671091798150055820.post-69306559300001904312012-04-09T21:54:00.000-05:002012-04-09T21:54:09.408-05:00I Wanna Wake Up Where You Are....Today is my Anniversary with my husband. We've been married for 7 years. But our story goes so, so much farther back than that. We started dating when I was only 16. Of course we had our break ups and high school drama. We met at Hy-Vee (shocker!) and have been together ever since. I remember seeing him in passing, but I didn't really know who he was until I had to do a catering event. And he was the guy who had to pick myself and a few other girls up afterwards. My first impression, I'm not gonna lie, is that he was a big dork. He had beer cans in the back of his truck, and a sticker that said "Girls Rule." Little did I know at the time, that was NOT his truck, but a friend's. Still. And then he started singing to the Backstreet Boys on the way back to the store. Needless to say, it wasn't love at first sight :) <br />
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It didn't take long, though, for us to be attracted to each other. His parents were out of town one weekend, sorry Rita and Jeff, and he had a little party. I went with a friend of his. I wouldn't call it a date, well, maybe it was a date. Okay so <strong><em>maybe</em></strong> I was on a date with one of his friends when we had our first kiss. I obviously wasn't too into the friend of his, and Craig made me laugh. A lot. And smile. When my "date" left, Craig asked me to stay a little bit later, and I did. We watched MTV (back when they played music videos) and just hung out, and had our very first kiss. I remember like it was yesterday. <br />
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We dated off and on for a while. Breaking up, then getting back together, it was hard to avoid one another when we worked together. Even when he was mad at me, or I was mad at him, it never lasted long. I couldn't walk by him without smiling, and he'd tell you the same. <br />
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Then, I graduated high school. I was dating Craig at the time of my graduation, and I let him know that I was moving. To Minnesota. Over six hours away. We tried the long distance thing, and it was hard. He would come visit me a lot on the weekends, but it wasn't enough. After 3 months, he dropped out of college and transferred stores to be with me. We moved in together in September of 2001. We were just babies, living on love, ramen noodles, and Supermarket Sweep. <br />
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After I finished school, we moved back to his hometown. He finished college and remained with Hy-Vee. We got engaged, got married, and moved to Omaha. Our wedding day was so much fun. I am so thankful for all of the family and friends that surrounded our day with love and support. The wedding was short and sweet, and the reception.... let's just say we spent more on beer than we did food. But everyone had a great time. <br />
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We now have a house, two kids, a fish, and a dog. Thirteen years later. Our idea of fun is playing basketball with Tanner, or listening to Callie read to us. We go to Target alone on our <strong><em>really</em></strong> crazy nights. And maybe even dinner. Our house is usually a little messy, very chaotic, and our laundry never seems to be done. But it's ours. Together.<br />
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Our big night was spent at Applebee's (Callie picked), with both of our kids. We usually go to some fancy restaraunt and order steak and wine, but this time we were at your neighborhood grill, ordering Mac-N-Cheese and applesauce. Instead of fancy plates, we ate out of little red baskets. And we had a blast.<br />
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All of this has been created in 7 years. I can't wait to see what the next 70 will bring.satoddhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02563833119636793408noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3671091798150055820.post-89709914984868444062012-02-24T08:50:00.001-06:002012-02-24T08:55:02.484-06:00Mom Prom 2012<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;">You guys, I am so excited. Really. </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS;">I had really high hopes for this year's Mom Prom. If you don't know what that is, and you consider yourself a friend of mine, where the heck have you been? :)</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS;">I nearly tear up as I write that as of right now, we only have 39 tickets left. 39. Out of the 280 we are selling. (We also reserved some tickets for contests, giveaways, and certain sponsored tickets). This year's prom will have 300 women. 300 women who want to make a difference. 300 women who want to have fun, get dressed up, and take a night all to themselves. Which, let's be honest Mommies, doesn't happen nearly enough. 300 women strong. Last year we had about 150. I can't even imagine what we could do at NEXT year's prom. The Qwest (okay, I refuse to call it Centurylink Center, yet)? What venue could possibly hold the hopes that we have for the coming years?? </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS;">This year's Mom Prom beneficiary is Ted E. Bear Hollow. If you aren't familiar with this amazing organization, they offer counseling services to children and families who have lost a loved one. Free. I honestly hope my children never have to set foot in that building, but if the tragedy ever happened, I thank God that they would have a place to go. A place where they won't feel different, or alone, or lost. A place where they can go and be with other kids their age who have gone through a similar situation, a place that will help them understand, a place where they can build themselves back up. </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS;">We did "The Morning Blend" this week. It was fun, but nerve-wracking. I have to thank my husband. He has been so amazing with me being gone a lot for different Prom related reasons. And even running my daycare for a few hours! I think the kids have more fun with him than me!! We sported our dresses, that we bought for $25 from Max I. Walker for the Ultra Chic Boutique going on this Saturday!! </span><br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiwRw0e7He0rKCAH4GhLX68Cp75D2eDcRCMCHc7zn55lkRZt3XGBgSPY0mrKGodobOnv0ThrL7DwVrVVcErEtp9FDX7vvpuI5DUYQAgr1NIhDvk06-xFav8xtqtODYp7Kb8DNVHljecVQEc/s1600/429639_3441173792906_1377396192_33337600_1995543461_n.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiwRw0e7He0rKCAH4GhLX68Cp75D2eDcRCMCHc7zn55lkRZt3XGBgSPY0mrKGodobOnv0ThrL7DwVrVVcErEtp9FDX7vvpuI5DUYQAgr1NIhDvk06-xFav8xtqtODYp7Kb8DNVHljecVQEc/s320/429639_3441173792906_1377396192_33337600_1995543461_n.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Judy Daniell, Jessica Hudson, and myself</td></tr>
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<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS;">If you can't come to Mom Prom this year, you can still donate. Go to <a href="http://www.omahamomprom.com/">www.omahamomprom.com</a>. Watch out for pictures of this year's Prom. It's going to be a night to remember! </span>satoddhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02563833119636793408noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3671091798150055820.post-18215621841455071672012-02-15T14:28:00.001-06:002012-02-15T14:41:34.947-06:00A-maz-ing.Ahhh. My vacation. I agonized over it, planned my time, my wardrobe, where the kids would be when and with who. I figured out who would take care of our dog, Lucy. I didn't make arrangements for the fish, but that darn fish just has will to live like I've never seen. I am pretty sure she gets fed once a month. I got paperwork ready, I made lists, I scrutinized for months before vacation. And then it was here. And then it was gone.<br />
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It was amazing. Craig and I had so much fun together. Not that we don't have fun together regularly, but this was a different kind of fun. The "wehavenostressinourlivesnodiaperstochangenomouthstofeedbutourown" type of fun. It was so relaxing. So nice to eat a meal with no interruptions, to really talk to each other about things like music, books, movies, and just get away from it all. To feel like we did before we had all of the stress and responsibilities. Did we miss the kids? Like crazy. I cried nearly every night. But I knew they were having a blast. One day when I called, they were swinging at the park, and Callie informed me that she "can't talk to you right now, Mommy. I'm on a swing and I need two hands for this." So I know that if she has to choose between the swing and me, the swing wins.<br />
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Our trip started in Ft. Lauderdale. We relaxed, shopped, and anxiously awaited boarding our cruise. We ran into one of Craig's co-workers on the flight. Small world, huh? Even smaller that they were then on our next flight and leaving for cruise as well. (Not the same as ours, though.) <br />
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We boarded the Carnival Miracle on Sunday. We were all so excited to get on the ship and explore. We had so much fun people watching, sun bathing, and playing all of the silly games that cruise ships have to offer. Craig even took a dance lesson. On a stage. In front of people. (Well, about half of the lesson until he decided to quit!) <br />
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Our first island was Grand Turk. We went to the beach, shopping, and just relaxed. I swam in the ocean, and Craig just tried not to get an even worse sun burn. (Yes, just a day into the cruise, he was a lobster!) <br />
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Our second island was the Dominican Republic. We had a not so good experience there. We went to La Romana via shuttle, and were dropped off at the "market." I really don't even want to talk about what happened in our 15 minutes there. We then took a shuttle to a little village, where we got to see some amazing views, beautiful streets and buildings, and some relax time. <br />
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Our third island was Aruba. I was in love immediately. We went to De Palm Beach. We snorkeled, we ate, we drank, we did the water park, we did the banana boat. Has anyone seen "Jaws?" The one where the kids are paddling the banana boat along, ever so serenely? This is what I thought we'd be doing. We went to get on and they required life jackets. "Overly cautious" I thought. We were tied to the dock and I saw the guy let us go. And then I saw that the rope was also tied to a boat in front of us. I was so not aware of what I was in for. And I wish I had a picture or video to show you just what happened. The guy drove the boat with us straddling this tiny air raft, flying through the air, being pelted with salt from the ocean. I have never held on for dear life quite like I did this day. The guy gave us directions before we got on the raft. I couldn't remember them! I didn't think they were important! I thought we were paddling the boat! He said something about sharks, something about the easiest way to get back on if you fall off (!!XXX!!!) and I couldn't remember any of it. I remember telling Craig "I don't want to do this anymore! I don't want to do this anymore!" Oh, and he said he wouldn't go over 15 MPH but anyone on that raft will tell you that was a LIE!!!!!! He was twisting and turning and I kept holding on and holding on. Then, he flipped the raft over. On purpose. I was in the ocean straight up "Jaws" style, with my life jacket, my contacts barely intact, and no memory of my directions. They very leisurely came back around, we got back on the raft, and I couldn't wait to be on land. Looking back, it really was super fun, but I can't say I'd ever do it again. The rest of the day in Aruba was spent shopping. Much more my cup of tea:)<br />
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Aruba day was also my birthday. I am pretty sure, thanks to my husband and family and friends with us, that every single passenger knew it was my birthday. Between shouting it out when I was the "lucky" girl chosen for trivia, or shouting it out in the dining room, or elevator, or anywhere, I can say I've never had so many strangers sing "Happy Birthday" to me ever in my life. <br />
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After Aruba we were on to Curacao. I also had a lot of fun here. We shopped, walked around, and relaxed. The buildings were so, so beautiful. <br />
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It was such an amazing trip. We missed the kids, and it was good to be back home, but I am so glad that we went. We are already planning the next one. WITH the kids this time :)satoddhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02563833119636793408noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3671091798150055820.post-62560608745734276192012-01-25T12:55:00.000-06:002012-01-25T12:55:58.713-06:00Stop the Clock.Time is just going too fast for me. Everytime I turn around Tanner's saying new words, Callie's mastering a new skill, the newest being reading, and I get a year older. I wish I had a pause button because I know I am going to want these times back someday. Even during my worst day. Even when the kids are all screaming, the dog's whining, and all I want to do is go to the bathroom without eight kids beating the door down for something. I do have to stop and remind myself that they aren't little forever. Someday, they'll want nothing to do with me, they'll just want to go out with their friends. <br />
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I am getting a break from all of it soon. I'll be on a cruise with my husband, for the first time in six years. We are really, really looking forward to it. But I can't help but feel guilty about what I'll miss. Or that Tanner will be confused about where his parents are. At least he'll be with people he knows and loves. <br />
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I am looking forward to spending quality time with my husband. We don't get enough time to ourselves. I am looking forward to eating a meal without cleaning up a spill, getting more milk, cutting up someone else's food, or picking corn out of my hair. I'll have 11 days that I don't have to change any diapers, tell anyone to brush their teeth or feed the dog, and I will get to sleep whenever I want to. And go to the bathroom whenever I want to. I won't have to watch Dora, do dishes or laundry, or play Old Maid. I actually won't watch TV at all. I won't have to check my emails, I won't be on Facebook (unless there's free WiFi somewhere, then I'll post a pic to make you all jealous!), and I can disconnect for 11 days. <br />
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All of those daunting chores will go to someone else. Mostly, my sister, my mom, and my neighbor. They get all of the dirty diapers and snotty noses, but they also get all of the hugs and kisses. They get the five minutes of cuddle time both of my children require before starting their day. They get the bedtime stories and fun games. They get the smiles, they get to see Tanner jamming out and listen to Callie read them a book. I have never left them for this long of a time, and I am sure it will be harder on me than it is on them. <br />
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Sure, there will be moments on vacation where I want to hit the pause button. When my feet hit the sand and it's 80 degrees outside and I have all day to relax, explore, shop, and be with Craig and other friends and family. But it's a different kind of pause button. I can't wait until the kids are a little bit older and they can go with us next time. <br />
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Until then my sister and her husband, my neighbor, and my mom are more than happy to care for the most important gifts God has ever given me. And I know they will be just fine....satoddhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02563833119636793408noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3671091798150055820.post-56697719156645288292011-11-12T17:57:00.001-06:002011-11-12T18:06:09.296-06:00For You I Will...I've learned a lot of things in my 28 years of life. I know I have a lot left to learn. <br />
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</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">I always, always thought, even after I graduated high school, that I would never have friends like that ever again in my whole life. Maybe a bit dramatic, looking back on it, but how could I? How could I have friends like the ones I had my first slumber party with? That I had Christmas Concerts, church, and dances with? Who got in trouble right along with me for drinking at parties or staying out too late? How could anyone relate with me on that same deep, 13 year long level? And I honestly just thought that it would never happen and I just had to figure out a way to accept it. </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">Fast forward to college, and yes, I made some friends. I only really talk to 2 of them anymore. Oh, and those high school friends? I must say that I actually do talk to a lot of them still. And that I think about them a lot. And that I truly love them. We can go months without talking and pick up right where we left off. And those relationships are very important to me. </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">Enter, my sisters. They have always been my friends. Darci, and I don't think this is a secret to anyone, and it's not meant to hurt my other sisters, has been my best friend forever. We've had disagreements, of course. But she has really been my best friend and she's a friend I know that will be there for me no matter what, no matter when, no matter how. She's the first person I want to call when I am mad, sad, happy, or have big news. She knew about both of my pregnancies before my husband even did. She helped me through a loss of a pregnancy. She is my little sister, but in a lot of ways I feel like it's opposite. Like I need her guidance on many issues in my life. </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">Enter, friends in my early 20's. A lot of them were honestly great, but we just drifted apart. I had marriage and babies before most of them and we just reached different stages in our lives and that's okay. If it weren't for facebook, I probably wouldn't really know too much about how they are doing now. Of course there's one that stuck :) And we don't talk all of the time since she moved back to Sioux City to restart her life. But I love that girl for life. </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">My late 20's (wow, that's scary) have been amazing, especially as far as friendships go. In the last year I have met some of my truly, truly best friends. One in particular that I feel like I've known all of my life. We did this little thing called "Mom Prom" together last year, maybe you've heard me mention it before... :) </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><br />
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">All of these friendships are treasured to me. And they all taught me something, good or bad, about myself and what a friend truly is. And to me, a friend never makes you choose sides. A friend is always there for you, right or wrong, but should be the one to tell you when you are wrong. And if you are a friend, you should accept that you are not always going to be right. A friend sympathizes with you when you are having troubles, if even hers are "worse." A friend should show up just because, not just when things are really bad or really good. A friend would bring over your favorite (or HER favorite!) bottle of wine just to chat. A friend shows interest in your life and invests in your children. And you do the same for her.</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">Unfortunately, I've learned what to avoid in a friend as well. Avoid friends who have "one up" you all of the time, ones that you can't trust, because just like a marriage, you have to be able to trust your friends. Avoid friends who suck the positive energy out of you. Avoid the friends who demand you be their only. Avoid friends who change their story. Avoid friends who have a sense of entitlement.Avoid friends who take advantage of your or exploit your weaknesses. Hold your friendship close and never just give out to everyone. It should be a chosen process. Think of the 5 people you are closest to. They speak volumes about what kind of person you are. Choose friends who are like you (but still different!) and that deserve to be that close to you. </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">Guess who told me that? One of my great girlfriends :)</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><br />
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Our new puppy is about 10 months old, so the rescue shelter estimated. She is very calm for a puppy. She is very small for a black lab/retriever mix. Her name at the shelter was Liv. I had a daycare kid named Livi (we called her Liv) and so I wanted to rename her. The rescue volunteer recommended we keep her name beginning with the letter "L" and so we now call her "Lucy." She was brought to the rescue center when she was found by a stranger. <br />
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I really wanted a big-ish dog. One that would bark when a stranger came too close to the house. It would make me feel more safe. (Not doubting my husband's ninja skills, of course. Have you SEEN the guy? I wouldn't mess with him... ehem....) Anyway.... Lucy is afraid of her reflection in the window, and I haven't heard so much as a yelp. So much for my guard dog. <br />
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How are we doing? So far, so good. As of 8:03 pm she has only had one "accident" and it was right by the back patio door so I am thinking I missed her "open the door, you fool" sign. We are going to get bells to hang on the door and teach her to ring it when she needs to go potty. <br />
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We went on our first walk and can I just say, we were a hot mess. I was pushing the stroller, I had Lucy on a leash and Callie was walking, or being tripped the entire time by Lucy. I rammed the stroller into her, the stroller nearly tipped over a few times, Lucy was running circles around me and I nearly fell... all in a matter of blocks. I am so glad it was dark and cold so no one could see the complete mess we were. <br />
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And can I just say, my friends and family have been amazing at helping me out with this?? I have been texting, facebook stalking, calling, anyone who has a dog and asking a million questions. So. Sorry. But so very grateful that you are there to help me out :) <br />
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The kids are in love. I'm in love. I think we'll keep her :)satoddhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02563833119636793408noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3671091798150055820.post-13512730389745055192011-11-07T21:59:00.002-06:002011-11-07T22:06:07.564-06:00Go Huskers!!Saturday was my first ever Huskers game. Really, I'm not lying. "But your Dad has season tickets..." you say? Yes, yes he does. Let me explain. I have six sisters. And I am not the "golden" child. That would be one of my little sisters, Darci. And she gets alllll of the extra Husker tickets. When my other sisters are in town from Denver, THEY get the tickets. I can't blame my Dad. He's an avid Husker fan, and my husband is not. And my Dad is such a fan that it's hard for him to give his seats to a non-Husker fan. I get it. And I especially get it after the loss on Saturday. If Craig wasn't there, it would have been a win for sure. Sorry, Dad. <br />
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Our journey to Lincoln started at McDonald's. We figured since we would be drinking before noon, a couple of hashbrowns might come in handy. <br />
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjOPcdtuAgkGTuBgEtBlyIgzDn43EhT6xm8cXkzFOZWvXfPxRuy1nrHNQ9332ffamKVRw2uKfuAYEfrx8fCCoUyZAkqgZE1IhIT17xeYjmiAjLlKNbPx0kfeqRrCLXPb2g6Gci9AO3B7mDN/s1600/377140_10150344108237797_585392796_8677397_1424783008_n.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" ida="true" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjOPcdtuAgkGTuBgEtBlyIgzDn43EhT6xm8cXkzFOZWvXfPxRuy1nrHNQ9332ffamKVRw2uKfuAYEfrx8fCCoUyZAkqgZE1IhIT17xeYjmiAjLlKNbPx0kfeqRrCLXPb2g6Gci9AO3B7mDN/s320/377140_10150344108237797_585392796_8677397_1424783008_n.jpg" width="192" /></a></div><br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"></div>We arrived in Lincoln, parked our car, and tailgated for a bit. I saw homeless people that I didn't really think were homeless (I think it's a Game Day thing, no?). We saw lots of drunk people, and I had high hopes of witnessing an arrest, not gonna lie. So it wasn't even noon yet, and Darci and Marcus have a tradition of taking a Jager shot before the game. Ech. But, I did it for the Huskers....<br />
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Nastiness. And for nothing.</td></tr>
</tbody></table>After we had a few drinks we headed to Stadium Drive. We walked around for a bit and of course it didn't take long to figure out that all of that drinking is going to make us need a 'facility.' If you know me, you know I loathe port-a-potties. Nasty. <br />
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So we headed to the tailgate party put on by Sara Lee. It was a lot of fun. They were pretty serious about it, hooking up a satellite to the top of their SUV along with generators for power, of course. And good food, beer, and Bacardi. What else could a girl want??<br />
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgG0dptXAGkusNe3wwE-eXa7wHEceuEe3r5TVnkLbqjGzDiuYWL-3hFEOpm2Xfo0pjQQ-qSGbfEG9AR1eI7uqrcSAZL0A92hdO4UbnxzCVI4XQgJ3rnyn8krxKtKxSOEoDbNQzGrJDKb99M/s1600/298146_10150350328925841_501310840_8391180_1608517893_n.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" ida="true" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgG0dptXAGkusNe3wwE-eXa7wHEceuEe3r5TVnkLbqjGzDiuYWL-3hFEOpm2Xfo0pjQQ-qSGbfEG9AR1eI7uqrcSAZL0A92hdO4UbnxzCVI4XQgJ3rnyn8krxKtKxSOEoDbNQzGrJDKb99M/s320/298146_10150350328925841_501310840_8391180_1608517893_n.jpg" width="320" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br />
</div>The band went by and we followed them into the stadium. It was really a lot of fun, and you can feel the energy. I was seated next to a somewhat creepy man. He kept trying to get me to take bites of his food.... who does that?? I tried my best to ignore him but he kept waving his food in my face, asking me if I'd like a bite. I politely said no thanks. He really wanted to drink, so he left shortly after half time. Yay. We saw a fight break out, not sure why, and an old woman being carried away on a stretcher. But no arrests. Maybe next time?? And maybe a win next time?? Not sure there will be a next time, since Craig clearly has a Husker loss curse. And since I'm really not the golden child anymore. It was fun, even if just for a day!!satoddhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02563833119636793408noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3671091798150055820.post-15552980192834176422011-11-03T08:57:00.000-05:002011-11-03T08:57:45.156-05:00Trick Or TreatHalloween has got to be one of my favorite holidays. I love the decorations (not the scary stuff), the costumes, and the fun parties. Callie dressed up as Taylor Swift this year, shocking, I know. And she already decided that next year she wants to be Cindy Lou Who. We'll see if that sticks! And Tanner was a dinosaur. A very cute dinosaur, that's for sure. <br />
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Callie, Dreu, and Tanner</td></tr>
</tbody></table><br />
We started a tradition since we moved into our house a couple of years ago. Every Halloween night, we invite friends and family over for chili and cinnamon rolls, and then we head out for candy. It's a lot of fun, and it's a quick, easy supper that I can prepare during the day. <br />
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We also went to a party at my friend's house over the weekend. Craig actually dressed up for a costume party. Also, very shocking, but this time really. We went with some friends and dressed up as the gang from Scooby Doo. It was a fun night and I found out that I don't totally suck at pool. Who woulda thunk? <br />
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The kids were totally exhausted after all of the trick or treating. At first, Tanner was not really loving it but once he figured out that he gets to eat the candy, it was okay. And a couple of days later, it snowed here! I am sure most of you are fully aware,but I love the snow. Love it. And it was just enough for the kids to be able to go outside and play in it for a little bit. <br />
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">*LOVE*</td></tr>
</tbody></table>I only wish it would have stuck around. It went too fast. Not enough time to sled or anything fun like that. But watching the kids' faces light up when they saw it was so much fun. Callie asked me today when winter was coming back. Soon, I hope Callie, very soon :)satoddhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02563833119636793408noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3671091798150055820.post-27698278773408440832011-10-24T21:31:00.000-05:002011-10-24T21:31:10.768-05:00It's Official...I am the worst blogger. Ever. It's been over a month since my last blog. I'll tell you why. This girl has been super busy! And since there's no end in sight to the madness, I'll just have to blog in the wee hours of the night... okay... maybe just after 9:00 pm but for me, that IS the wee hours of the night!<br />
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What have I been busy doing? Birthdays, Book Clubs, Bunco Nights, sick kids, playing outside while the weather is still 'play outside-able,' and cleaning. This fall has been busy! We've been to Vala's a few times this year and if you have never gone, you need to. No matter where we end up living some day, I will always bring the kids back to Vala's. It's really one of the most fun, family friendly places I've ever been to. I've been to a couple of craft fairs, which were really fun, and we have finally gotten Callie in swimming lessons. You'll remember her near drowning <a href="http://satodd9281.blogspot.com/2010/12/whew.html">here.</a> We thought it was absolutely time to get her comfortable with the water. She was never really too afraid of it, but I'd like her to know what to do if she ever finds herself in a similar situation as last year. I pray she never does.<br />
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Callie is going to preschool for a few hours a day now, five days a week. She loves to write, count, and rhyme. Her daddy has taught her how to "plus" things together and she really gets a kick out of showing off her skills. Tanner is adding more and more words to his vocabulary by the day and has mastered the art of the perfect temper tantrum. Definitely a "Mama's Boy" at this point, and loves to go bye bye. He loves when we read books and do all of the silly animal sounds.<br />
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My favorite time of year is upon us. I broke down and had my first Starbuck's hot chocolate of the year. I've started my Christmas shopping. I have started my mega list of what we need to get. I feel more organized this year than ever before. We'll see if it pays off :)<br />
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Like I always say, I am going to try to blog more, I promise. I will be shopping again on Black Friday this year. If you didn't catch all of my fun times last year, check it out <a href="http://satodd9281.blogspot.com/2010/11/let-me-count-ways.html">here.</a> That always promises a great blog. As long as I have my brave photographer, Caity with me!!!satoddhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02563833119636793408noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3671091798150055820.post-49982963686794632522011-09-15T08:43:00.000-05:002011-09-15T08:43:17.184-05:00Easy, Psycho...If you have met my beautiful, sweet, smart 4 year old daughter, chances are, you've probably seen her "crazy" side. She's really a sweet girl 90% of the time. But every once in a while she gets this crazy look in her eyes like she could choke someone. Her eyes warn you that an attack is imminent. And the funny thing, kind of scary thing, is that all I have to do to make it go away is say, "Eeeeeasy Psycho!" and she starts smiling and laughing. Huh? In a snap second she goes from rabid dog to my smiling little angel. How does that happen?<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiba3-US8zT6ulytkjjS7CcbnCY6gKcEz_Gm4WN74iXIg3dLSRV-FgDvaZp-YQDugKrCSVx3fCkzUruNDFhl1BRPeEl6PzdHhGZmxX68pjiA6cg1ad1uvPg9rMMeuhDyzjsscp3d4hpusxJ/s1600/n503419074_1595120_2131595.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="320" rba="true" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiba3-US8zT6ulytkjjS7CcbnCY6gKcEz_Gm4WN74iXIg3dLSRV-FgDvaZp-YQDugKrCSVx3fCkzUruNDFhl1BRPeEl6PzdHhGZmxX68pjiA6cg1ad1uvPg9rMMeuhDyzjsscp3d4hpusxJ/s320/n503419074_1595120_2131595.jpg" width="240" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Side View...</td></tr>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Aaaand back to a sweetie pie.</td></tr>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Psycho...</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjltlbYa-sBXj5Ztd_3gJrfksORaHfGGuFBx-NinycHL07weG9Miou3HCKi3QZEXEzS_yY-a799WSL9urKa6h0WkoEvt630TuAaTLuIGM9ld9Wj3m_I6pSylg-6ViO30lRuyCn5iFo3qtwX/s1600/25045_341790074074_503419074_3489746_5457233_n.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="320" rba="true" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjltlbYa-sBXj5Ztd_3gJrfksORaHfGGuFBx-NinycHL07weG9Miou3HCKi3QZEXEzS_yY-a799WSL9urKa6h0WkoEvt630TuAaTLuIGM9ld9Wj3m_I6pSylg-6ViO30lRuyCn5iFo3qtwX/s320/25045_341790074074_503419074_3489746_5457233_n.jpg" width="240" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Sweetie Pie.</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjEfV8v_0k3NeS5cwFqaCgspJhKtZIuKAgABokI2aDCCOi_7Nin-sGuGaMWZ6nUhg1tJ7GTKtj0WlV85cL22hHDBQNlRWBcZh5OmC53Q9rtL_PhLleNLhODPGnbvdIkzmt7w7FibfXI054X/s1600/n503419074_793010_6847.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="320" rba="true" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjEfV8v_0k3NeS5cwFqaCgspJhKtZIuKAgABokI2aDCCOi_7Nin-sGuGaMWZ6nUhg1tJ7GTKtj0WlV85cL22hHDBQNlRWBcZh5OmC53Q9rtL_PhLleNLhODPGnbvdIkzmt7w7FibfXI054X/s320/n503419074_793010_6847.jpg" width="240" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">It started really young...<br />
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</tbody></table>She gives me a run for my money, no doubt. Just this morning she told me, "Mom, you are so mean. You are ruining my life!" She learned that from watching "Freaky Friday" of course. Lovely. You know what provoked her outburst this morning? She got out of bed 3 times last night. So she lost her TV privileges and she didn't get to pick her breakfast this morning. Can I just say that I am dreading 16? But you know what, if she learned a lesson from it, I am fine with her "hating" me for a few minutes. Even a few hours.satoddhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02563833119636793408noreply@blogger.com0