tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-80181242646285685542024-03-05T12:43:06.531-05:0012one7in which a stay-at-home mom comes to terms with realityCharlihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12393617981797676146noreply@blogger.comBlogger67125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8018124264628568554.post-78419826641530845542014-03-17T09:00:00.000-04:002014-03-17T09:00:06.056-04:00100 Happy Days Take 2Honestly folks, I'm killing <a href="http://100happydays.com/">this project</a> - and my life, pretty much in. fucking. order.<br />
<br />
Not that this project is the reason my life is in order. My life is in order because I hit rock bottom a month (or two) ago and was forced to drag myself up by my own hair with the help of my own brutal honesty and a pretty phenomenal therapist. <br />
<br />
First rule of life, if you can't admit what kind of shape you're in, you cant fix yourself. True story.<br />
<br />
Anyway. In no particular order, and not even necessarily my happy image for the day (because apparently iphoto isn't importing images I shoot in Instagram). So if you're that curious, you can keep up with me on Instagram <a href="http://instagram.com/photosensitive#">@photosensitive</a>.<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiKe8C4tjrtK3TEJ4BzQredTBhVC3lUvxHzTFjLe1IIu-oSN53H4HpK0E4SsN7sw45_u2llR0QcJ-6DNev9penIhSYJTndZWfETO5gHonSY9SgFlT5ksRJ8M5W2MlKURPlcrpRjEbKfAJo/s1600/IMG_5956.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiKe8C4tjrtK3TEJ4BzQredTBhVC3lUvxHzTFjLe1IIu-oSN53H4HpK0E4SsN7sw45_u2llR0QcJ-6DNev9penIhSYJTndZWfETO5gHonSY9SgFlT5ksRJ8M5W2MlKURPlcrpRjEbKfAJo/s1600/IMG_5956.JPG" height="640" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Waiting in the car for Pops to pick up our Five Guys Friday. I look over and Pops and M are dancing, Pops in the Five Guys window, M in the passenger seat. </td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjWhTNrreaqpaA9BWio6xNeabqgy2EPxg6Oe3ceviEzbgHfhyYgxwsI_jXkoqvLQgIW4Od-IoKsjO7cQmXYzpKeTdQAEQjtXOVNU1iMhPzOBABv5GP-khrgHsaG6KLMxhufT-kljCDCZlM/s1600/IMG_5911.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjWhTNrreaqpaA9BWio6xNeabqgy2EPxg6Oe3ceviEzbgHfhyYgxwsI_jXkoqvLQgIW4Od-IoKsjO7cQmXYzpKeTdQAEQjtXOVNU1iMhPzOBABv5GP-khrgHsaG6KLMxhufT-kljCDCZlM/s1600/IMG_5911.JPG" height="640" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Sometimes, I get shit done. </td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjFnLMeMoZe_TtQYshCWJ03uk1JeaX5IpVlTjDXW15FQ6EBbnrvvZILQEwOPommznpn-9_Mznwa3zfknR-wBsgQ3xxvNnZaHRT6ELB5o8pCyTDYrb7_5aTTHqsgm5OFe86O2ubdaV3ho5g/s1600/IMG_5883.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjFnLMeMoZe_TtQYshCWJ03uk1JeaX5IpVlTjDXW15FQ6EBbnrvvZILQEwOPommznpn-9_Mznwa3zfknR-wBsgQ3xxvNnZaHRT6ELB5o8pCyTDYrb7_5aTTHqsgm5OFe86O2ubdaV3ho5g/s1600/IMG_5883.JPG" height="640" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">this picture just makes me so happy. She picked all these clothes herself. They are all her big sister's.</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhACtcqO2QHu3DlDCYlu5Vrh6KWGHt634DffA8GEDIYY6xCVhnPuaqmjLgNDmmD-kJga4JN9RF6Fz9Ew1fKyPkUVYStNiV9aCJiTXWTeqiB247i8iMjPiFE3XYCu6bV8kO7iusHqmqqmmY/s1600/IMG_5865.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhACtcqO2QHu3DlDCYlu5Vrh6KWGHt634DffA8GEDIYY6xCVhnPuaqmjLgNDmmD-kJga4JN9RF6Fz9Ew1fKyPkUVYStNiV9aCJiTXWTeqiB247i8iMjPiFE3XYCu6bV8kO7iusHqmqqmmY/s1600/IMG_5865.jpg" height="640" width="478" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">"look at these fuckin flowers mom!!! loook at them!"</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgI_I0Tt0of5AvH7-jYi8OefOfncCB-5TNZeYw1pz4l4ezzY0BiEiSDsrbITWfeJpWJZY8A0P2d6ngdSCAVmDifKpySIotsyA4IQwIWCZQ2XDKBd_oKGD6-OuymA5iSE8hzB2-ivcvkYvo/s1600/IMG_5869.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgI_I0Tt0of5AvH7-jYi8OefOfncCB-5TNZeYw1pz4l4ezzY0BiEiSDsrbITWfeJpWJZY8A0P2d6ngdSCAVmDifKpySIotsyA4IQwIWCZQ2XDKBd_oKGD6-OuymA5iSE8hzB2-ivcvkYvo/s1600/IMG_5869.JPG" height="640" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">don't be fooled, this kid was in the process of ripping these to shreds</td></tr>
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And last but not least, a selfie.<br />
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We were celebrating 2 straight weeks of me adulting, like a boss. No serious anxiety or depression issues in that time; I also was on top of my shit.<br />
<br />
Granted at this very moment my house is slightly destroyed and I've done nothing to fix it. Yesterday's dishes are still spilling out of my sink, and I just might go get on that. Unfuck my habitat for a bit before bed.<br />
<br />
But I feel all right. Not perfect, but all right. Charlihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12393617981797676146noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8018124264628568554.post-67133958182140136732014-03-16T23:14:00.000-04:002014-03-16T23:14:35.182-04:00Mar<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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<br />
Life isn't always this beautiful.<br />
But there are days where I walk out my back door armed with a camera and M is in a good mood... It's been months since I've seriously attempted to photograph anything. But for two days in a row I've captured my kids. As they are, dirty knees, scabbed legs, caped, with wind-blown hair. <br />
Charlihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12393617981797676146noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8018124264628568554.post-33446535735066185782014-03-15T22:04:00.000-04:002014-03-15T22:04:16.582-04:00Smalls<br />
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<br />Charlihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12393617981797676146noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8018124264628568554.post-3729908343989726732014-03-04T22:44:00.001-05:002014-03-04T22:44:26.262-05:00So I Might Have a ProblemWith Facebook.<br />
<br />
I know people who sit at their computers and/or smart phones all day looking at facebook. They play games (which thankfully I have <i>never</i> been tempted to play). They stalk people's pages. They scroll for hours, and hours and hours. I know those people. I feel bad for those people.<br />
<br />
And secretly - I have more in common with those people than I'd ever like to admit.<br />
<br />
Granted I don't exactly have the luxury of spending hour after hour at my computer any more. <i>Thanks kids</i>. But if I did, I could totally hyper focus on Facebook or Pinterest or whatever for half a day or shit, even a whole day. I've done it before.<br />
<br />
I have, however, discovered this really gross habit that I've developed.<br />
<br />
Obsessively checking Facebook. Perhaps not obsessively - but entirely too often. The click back from one page to Facebook intermittently throughout the evening/afternoon to see who's said what about something I posted... It's time consuming. And when you realize you're doing it, it's a bit soul crushing. But there I was an hour later with seemingly nothing to do, plopping down at my computer and clicking the little blue F on my bookmark toolbar...<br />
<br />
So I gave up Facebook, what? Four, five days ago? I've lost count honestly. And I've done pretty well with it. I've signed in a couple of times, going directly to the homeschool group's page to check on outings (while wandering round the Botanical gardens, wondering why I hadn't seen anyone from the group there yet) and I've posted photos directly from Instagram. But I have left the red little bubbles that alert you to new things up at the top completely alone.<br />
<br />
So far, so good.<br />
Except not really. I find myself staring at Instagram, looking for me. me. me. Look at me. Who's talking to me? Who's out there willing to <i>connect</i> with me? Even if it's just a little <3 on a photo I snapped of my kids.<br />
<br />
<b><i>Do you want to throw up yet?</i></b><br />
<br />
Because I do.<br />
<br />
How disgusting am I that I have come to rely on social media to connect with other people??? Today I really just wanted to pull my own fingernails out after realizing just what I was doing...<br />
<br />
And so, I texted my two best friends in the whole wide world - who currently live a thousand miles away from me and with whom I don't talk as much as I'd like.<br />
<br />
I sent love to them. I reminded them how much they mean to me and how much I miss having them in my life. And in return, I got love and sunshine.<br />
<br />
And I called my brother and talked to him.<br />
<br />
And I chatted with my grandmother.<br />
<br />
Because realizing that I had grown dependent on social media for human interaction (a large chunk of human interaction in my life) was beyond disturbing. And I decided right then and there that there are meaningful connections that I could and should be making instead. There are <i>letters</i> to write and phone <i>calls</i> to make. There is a <b><i>real life</i></b> to enjoy outside of me. me. me. <br />
<br />
Am I going to give up on Facebook all together? Probably not. But Lent starts tomorrow and I think I'll let it go until Easter.<br />
<br />
The paramaters of my Lenten Fasting are as follows:<br />
<br />
For Facebook: ONLY homeschool group business. No clicking alerts, checking my home page OR my news feed. No adding new friends, messaging (unless it's a group thing and I don't have a phone number to call), and obviously no posting/commenting. For Instagram: only posting of photos. No scrolling the newsfeed, no social interaction, no notifications of <3. Basically just continue my <a href="http://twelveoneseven.blogspot.com/2014/03/100-happy-days.html">100 Happy Days Project</a>, because I seriously love that shit. And Pinterest, o Pinterest you rascally devil - you and I have been on good terms these past months since I decided to just chill the fuck out on all the craziness. But you and I should really part ways these 40 days. I may use you to find a link to a recipe or craft or home school lesson from my own page. But that is all. No going to pinterest.com and pinning all the things. Just a pop in at <a href="http://pinterest.com/charli">My Page</a> to find what I'm looking for. When I'm looking for something specific.<br />
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Instead of all this internet time I think I should like to improve the flow and rhythm of my days. Set a bit of a schedule and follow it. Get outside more (which I have been doing quite a lot these days) go for walks, read more, write more, make more art and work on My Family History Project.<br />
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Will I accomplish anything at all with this fast? I don't have a damned clue. For now I just feel better airing out my dirty laundry, setting out my selfishness into the blog-sphere and releasing it. Now it's out there and now it can stay gone. <br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://fc03.deviantart.net/fs70/f/2013/311/8/e/please_and_thank_you__d_by_qinni-d6te47s.gif#null" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="http://fc03.deviantart.net/fs70/f/2013/311/8/e/please_and_thank_you__d_by_qinni-d6te47s.gif#null" height="320" width="239" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><i>Adios</i> narcissism. </td></tr>
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<br />Charlihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12393617981797676146noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8018124264628568554.post-31055101023996820982014-03-03T14:53:00.000-05:002014-03-03T14:54:20.073-05:00100 Happy DaysEveryone is looking for the key to happiness these days. I watched some Ted Talk on it and the statistics on just how well books sell when they have the word "happy" or "happiness" in the title is astounding.<br />
I too, would like to be happy. Because I am a human fucking being. And who doesn't want to be happy? So, last Saturday (possibly Sunday) my dearest friend casually mentioned that she was doing this <a href="http://100happydays.com/">100 Happy Days Project</a> and I said, I am in bitch.<br />
The gist of the project, for those too lazy to click the link is that you document the happiest moment (or maybe just a happy moment) of your day every day for 100 days. It's supposed to be like a social experiment so they encourage you to use Facebook or Twitter or Instagram. But I like the idea for just yourself as well, and I like checking with with mi compadre, asking her what her happy moment was and sharing mine with hers. Seeing as I just gave up Facebook for the foreseeable future and that's where she's documenting and she doesn't have an instagram and that's where I'm documenting, daily text messages keep us accountable to each other.<br />
It's nice.<br />
So far, I've stuck with it longer than any daily photo project I have ever signed up for.<br />
Because it's about the moment, not the image.<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhL6BxkPwpXkzA1fQ19eprT3qIv7rKIk_Q-G7HMxknm9CcOt2LxqaS-lWyFZpRHMGp6Vbpt7f8U7fcJKYedgHLmX9RpYVZ81i-f1VxCHZ5BMo7IxYDuD0vzTMP_B0JsaFZng6MEX5tITxU/s1600/IMG_5616.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhL6BxkPwpXkzA1fQ19eprT3qIv7rKIk_Q-G7HMxknm9CcOt2LxqaS-lWyFZpRHMGp6Vbpt7f8U7fcJKYedgHLmX9RpYVZ81i-f1VxCHZ5BMo7IxYDuD0vzTMP_B0JsaFZng6MEX5tITxU/s1600/IMG_5616.JPG" height="640" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Slide Climbing @ Lettuce Lake Park, Day 1/100 Happy Days project</td></tr>
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Last Sunday was the shit. I spent the day with the family after church at Lettuce Lake. And damn that place is beautiful. I calmed myself down after realizing that it is much more crowded on a beautiful Sunday afternoon than it is on a rainy Tuesday morning. I'd never seen more than a handful of cars at the park before, and Sunday it was a full house. I shifted my perspective, lowered my expectations and had an amazing time. Also, Lena is a tenacious little slide climber... not too successful, but tenacious.<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjbod5-R7iwXOkfTcG-3WsJs9qr6MeXLAD8jFBZA-WA1JMydFElzedUSEgiNhXM-4UQYts39cNPUUgACovd1b3uvho3R3s2Q8fTEa0JEG-asqG45G0slsC7CBoYVKf19xeD2NXooDLYG8E/s1600/IMG_5661.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjbod5-R7iwXOkfTcG-3WsJs9qr6MeXLAD8jFBZA-WA1JMydFElzedUSEgiNhXM-4UQYts39cNPUUgACovd1b3uvho3R3s2Q8fTEa0JEG-asqG45G0slsC7CBoYVKf19xeD2NXooDLYG8E/s1600/IMG_5661.JPG" height="640" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Reading this on my patio, dreaming of all the lovely containers we will soon have. Day 2/100 Happy Days Project</td></tr>
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I don't have a green thumb at all. But I have a gorgeous backyard that I don't have to care for. And the beauty of my wild space is thrown into stark relief next to my frankly, ugly patio. I've always wanted a garden and the kids and I have spent every. single. day. outside this week. I'm ready to start small.<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjoTbVqxvavSwPzpPJjEXNWf4DaosXoAkv6STX1tXHKsMRnlb5iVPkfwSrC5WuW98okQlAq9Dzr3_l3oMdwd6Dl3fjH7YNZ6MxkkDZwGyNVZQ4-K_0tPMpAgcPgX7F4nBj0iLPWpXRBQtA/s1600/IMG_5673.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjoTbVqxvavSwPzpPJjEXNWf4DaosXoAkv6STX1tXHKsMRnlb5iVPkfwSrC5WuW98okQlAq9Dzr3_l3oMdwd6Dl3fjH7YNZ6MxkkDZwGyNVZQ4-K_0tPMpAgcPgX7F4nBj0iLPWpXRBQtA/s1600/IMG_5673.JPG" height="640" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Movie Night, the kids are still and quiet. Day 3/100 Happy Days Project</td></tr>
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This day was rough. And my kids didn't really make it any easier on me. But I did get them to sit and watch Frozen together. And I ate a box of girl scout cookies and drank vanilla chai tea. And it was glorious. <br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhysltqa2Vtb7sfnWsVnZYYOGDs4d3hECtD4omIwPLthk2pGeS_xxIrLD5_af4xcf9oi02x2wv6Omf-pVryiVFguBfkekXfYurOuvAhRcA6Vwf-MkGzquLtE80moxRPPMg72gKy8hZDBuk/s1600/IMG_5675.PNG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhysltqa2Vtb7sfnWsVnZYYOGDs4d3hECtD4omIwPLthk2pGeS_xxIrLD5_af4xcf9oi02x2wv6Omf-pVryiVFguBfkekXfYurOuvAhRcA6Vwf-MkGzquLtE80moxRPPMg72gKy8hZDBuk/s1600/IMG_5675.PNG" height="400" width="266" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Screenshot... Windows down, radio blasting. Day 4/100 Happy Days Project</td></tr>
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Ummm... do you guys listen to the Arctic Monkeys? You should. Pulled out of my shrink appointment feeling good, turned on the iTunes and drove around like I was 17.<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgxsB2S62wob73txlIhuMQbYVoDjwCNvU4TGFflngBl2ZYbrE4gmdNpLKwKI10pwDgZq3CdnSWal9a-Bt1xQ1TDvXHTEb7qeZXmQ_gq10_o0WyGJKgmqhrOTMp2NDvCjAaTJXo4QZJyeTU/s1600/IMG_5709.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgxsB2S62wob73txlIhuMQbYVoDjwCNvU4TGFflngBl2ZYbrE4gmdNpLKwKI10pwDgZq3CdnSWal9a-Bt1xQ1TDvXHTEb7qeZXmQ_gq10_o0WyGJKgmqhrOTMp2NDvCjAaTJXo4QZJyeTU/s1600/IMG_5709.JPG" height="640" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Faery Garden at USF Botanical Gardens, so awesome. 5/100 Happy Days Project</td></tr>
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I love gardens. I beautiful gardens that aren't perfectly manicured that I can roam around in. I love paying only 5 bucks for me and my children to roam around said garden. I just wish it was closer to our house. But I think it's worth the drive every once in a while.<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjDTVM9b7mVwXpxKGmmEwVZxyQM2OKGj7BUjOakpOtt_ajQqmoX4D7P1QXjYxBvdngl0oOsO5QS2vAcJxxn_fHbt2t1jyrdxW6phDG61jbG9Sl5Ex03vAP6yUDZlkMdkJLzN1qEcWKX93Q/s1600/IMG_5710.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjDTVM9b7mVwXpxKGmmEwVZxyQM2OKGj7BUjOakpOtt_ajQqmoX4D7P1QXjYxBvdngl0oOsO5QS2vAcJxxn_fHbt2t1jyrdxW6phDG61jbG9Sl5Ex03vAP6yUDZlkMdkJLzN1qEcWKX93Q/s1600/IMG_5710.JPG" height="311" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Giggles. Just Giggles all around. 6/100 Happy Days Project</td></tr>
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Saturday was a big day for me. I got all dolled up and went out with my husband and friends to celebrate his birthday and the return of a couple of his friends from a deployment and it was sweet! This vegetarian had a delicious meal at Texas de Brazil (their salad bar is NOT fucking around). It was phenomenal and I was happy, too happy to whip out the phone and photograph it. But I also saw this on Instagram and laughed for like twenty minutes just thinking of it. Seriously. Twenty minutes.<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhhZ-7HJszRVSYUqElkPYA-UUyaJhTJOqTmyOPXwF6IgNI7AbQicQ6JefOd7axZmIpz4qru91zI4_L4VnJOSnCpONI49T2V9wdLDRDFGJXaaDMT6wI6FvfpMOojbYF7VgBT99cWg07DcHM/s1600/IMG_5763.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhhZ-7HJszRVSYUqElkPYA-UUyaJhTJOqTmyOPXwF6IgNI7AbQicQ6JefOd7axZmIpz4qru91zI4_L4VnJOSnCpONI49T2V9wdLDRDFGJXaaDMT6wI6FvfpMOojbYF7VgBT99cWg07DcHM/s1600/IMG_5763.JPG" height="640" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Le Fairy Garden on our patio 7/100 Happy Days Project</td></tr>
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Finally, our first container in our garden. It is lovely. A bit of English Ivy, a lovely begonia, a few fairy friendly accessories <i>et viola! Le faery jardin prefect!</i> You say it with a French accent even though I'm about 100% positive that's not French at all. <i>Let's just pretend guys.</i><br />
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It seems as though I got off track somewhere, left out a picture along the way. And you know what? I don't even care. I know I've taken a pic every day and I've counted my blessings at least once every day for the past week. <br />
<br />Charlihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12393617981797676146noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8018124264628568554.post-88202887570828848632014-02-26T21:58:00.000-05:002014-02-26T21:58:04.267-05:00Quitting Facebook?Yet another list of reasons to quit Facebook, another person pointing out just how shallow human interaction is on that sight popped up in my newsfeed just now.<br />
In the past I've always thought, yeah that's great for them, but it really is such a simple way to keep up with family and friends and when you live 1,000 miles from your nearest family member - easy upkeep is important.<br />
So I thought.<br />
But tonight the sinking suspicion that Facebook is actually harming the way I function as a human being morphed into something just a touch beyond suspicion.<br />
The people I'm most concerned with on Facebook are my mother, my grandmother and a couple of my friends. For the most part my facebook experience consists of a shit ton of videos and links to "cool shit" and "inspirational ideas." And while those things are fun and can be great - they're not actually helping me get anything accomplished.<br />
Like at all.<br />
Ever.<br />
And while it's so nice to know that people appreciate the photos of my children and status updates of their witticisms on occasion - I find myself regularly posting a slew of political links and getting enraged about issues and then doing nothing at all about said issues - except posting and getting pissed off.<br />
And it's ridiculous and quite frankly, embarrassing.<br />
Like -ooooohhhh look at me, look at what I believe. Look at how well-written this argument is for <i>x</i> don't you wish you could state your counter argument as eloquently as this person??? And I'll admit - I even knowingly <i>troll</i> some people. How immature can you get? I know this person is a fundamentally different human being and I pretend like there is no feasible way that I could even begin to understand where this person is coming from on any number of issues (even tho I <i>know</i> that <a href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Ze_%28pronoun%29">ze</a> is coming from an upbringing shrouded in religious dogma and social intolerance and there is no way we are ever, ever, ever going to see eye-to-eye). <br />
So, tonight with that humiliating confession, I'm changing the way I use The Social Network.<br />
I've already got instagram and pinterest. Those two things are amazing and time consuming enough. I really don't need the added drama of Facebook, constantly scrolling through to see who's doing what with whom and how (or more likely who's posted what link about the government's plot to take over our lives, the disintegration of women's rights, and/or failings of the public school system). <br />
It's not like I enjoy being up on people's drama. In fact probably half of my friends are blocked from my newsfeed because I was sick of their bullshit but didn't want to go through the hassle of "why'd you defriend me bro?" What's that say about the state of my affairs when I'm blocking half the content of a site yet still hitting said site up every day... multiple times a day.<br />
I have A.D.D. and things like Facebook and Pinterest can really turn into a time suck for me as I hyper focus on my screen, ignoring things like whining children and household chores for hours on end (maybe that's an exaggeration.... eventually I will snap out of it and likely scream at my children for being so damn whiny when in all actuality, I've been a pretty shitty mom for the past <i>x</i> amount of time that I was just blocking them out).<br />
My point being - Facebook, as it is simply isn't a healthy tool for me.<br />
But it is a very cool scrapbook of sorts of my past 8 or so years.<br />
And my <i>family</i> does enjoy getting to see instant pictures of my children.<br />
And it's not likely that any of them will join instagram with any regularity anyway.<br />
So, for my sanity I'm going on one of those new faddish Social Network Diets.<br />
I'm not going to log in to Facebook for the next two weeks. I've got a cool homeschool group I interact with on there so I've marked their upcoming social gatherings on my paper calendar and will see those real, actual human beings on those days.<br />
But for the rest of it, I'll likely just Instagram it up. Maybe post a bit more on Ye Olde Blog here. The awesome thing is, I can take this Social Network Diet and still share photos with my family simply by hitting "share on Facebook" when I Instagram.<br />
Easy Peasy. No hours spent watching videos, following the rabbit hole of HuffPost links or whatever it is I find myself doing, reading about people I don't really care about that much.<br />
Sure it's not a total media blackout - I enjoy Instagram and my followings are minimal so there's not a ton of scrolling to do there. And I've been getting better about hanging out on Pinterest the past few weeks but I'll probably hit it up with my morning coffee for garden and homeschool inspiration. <br />
The facts are these: A.D.D. chronic depression, and the <a href="http://offbeathome.com/2013/12/stopped-using-instagram#.Uw6nQV6M7T8">rat lever</a>, blackhole that is Facebook (and Pinterest and to an extent even Instagram) just DO NOT mix.<br />
I feel shitty when I sit at my computer all day, clicking the bookmarks at the top of my browser, switching between Pinterest, facebook and yahoo. It's a shitty feeling and I'm tired of it. Just like I got tired of sitting around binge watching netflix a couple of years ago.<br />
So, I'm going to get outside more. Engage in my <a href="http://100happydays.com/">100 Happy Days</a> on Instagram (more on that later in the week, I promise) and get shit done.<br />
<br />Charlihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12393617981797676146noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8018124264628568554.post-82280841527746288722014-02-25T22:01:00.000-05:002014-02-25T22:01:56.980-05:00Hey Mom, Can I Have A Mohawk?<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhdKf2E4J95vTTdaayCCPZxAJda11-3UFIxAO-DVy00FbwuHsJwDBgFTeOsE6xRFyQBNemSDgZjm0Asj5huc49VJfDPmurBtjshxNCvmuWfXd3EXwTYf22mMlu5YMo1rjvQgeHPv5ZqffY/s1600/IMG_5537.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhdKf2E4J95vTTdaayCCPZxAJda11-3UFIxAO-DVy00FbwuHsJwDBgFTeOsE6xRFyQBNemSDgZjm0Asj5huc49VJfDPmurBtjshxNCvmuWfXd3EXwTYf22mMlu5YMo1rjvQgeHPv5ZqffY/s1600/IMG_5537.JPG" height="640" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">A 5-year-old's Mohawk with flower clips</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjszvPQPe18biH_nJsB7pA4OZYioXUf3jWIXnbzO4bndh6Bf8T5pejGiR46-ZIJtldagbw4fO2U-5lvqo0VVLHgHORWFjY720gsOv9px4AF5XP-VeEa0Y5s1pqfv7n4aAwDmc8UnYG5iAA/s1600/IMG_5543.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjszvPQPe18biH_nJsB7pA4OZYioXUf3jWIXnbzO4bndh6Bf8T5pejGiR46-ZIJtldagbw4fO2U-5lvqo0VVLHgHORWFjY720gsOv9px4AF5XP-VeEa0Y5s1pqfv7n4aAwDmc8UnYG5iAA/s1600/IMG_5543.JPG" height="640" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">You know you have a good Mohawk when styled down, it looks like this.</td></tr>
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I'm well aware that most mothers would have a stroke and promptly shut down that line of thinking if their five-year-old daughter came to them with such a request. And it was my knee-jerk reaction to do just that, but my husband was in the car at the time and I'm pretty sure he said something like, "fuck yeah!" but probably not that exactly because he doesn't really say "fuck" all that much. He's got a cleaner mouth than me. Oddly enough.<br />
But with his response, I quickly got on board with the idea. My husband loathes "faux-hawks" and insisted that if she was going to do it, she was going to go all out. So, the very next day I called up our salon and explained to them that my five-year-old daughter wanted a Mohawk and could they please hook me up with the best person for the job.<br />
And I got just that.<br />
Look at this hair.<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh0JaLM7EHvIus6GXH-oYDDiBaUr6ve6Hc7I0bNIyQ2pfa7VigUEnaFp-ZTKOwdzeIuQsk7BDRV8NbqHXcQUhghik98Q0Nn0Vv3AWryNLaQDvYzvOa-ExB4SkOlk8pLqiLUQTqhLdwxfO4/s1600/IMG_5507.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh0JaLM7EHvIus6GXH-oYDDiBaUr6ve6Hc7I0bNIyQ2pfa7VigUEnaFp-ZTKOwdzeIuQsk7BDRV8NbqHXcQUhghik98Q0Nn0Vv3AWryNLaQDvYzvOa-ExB4SkOlk8pLqiLUQTqhLdwxfO4/s1600/IMG_5507.JPG" height="640" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Day 1 Mohawk, salon products only - did not do what M had in mind but still looked super cute</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh5pnklTLkX9l6pnkBQ3dUiRS6SnqvwouOJPBNi4SGNa7BKWqpu6WkJPVbD2YMiZ9XUsh_PvAczWwd6xpvVe_I2HVY4k70hWluiVKCJ1W1OUWDmtkSo0YBstDyw5TCbWi3ccnMkJiafJ7g/s1600/IMG_5540.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh5pnklTLkX9l6pnkBQ3dUiRS6SnqvwouOJPBNi4SGNa7BKWqpu6WkJPVbD2YMiZ9XUsh_PvAczWwd6xpvVe_I2HVY4k70hWluiVKCJ1W1OUWDmtkSo0YBstDyw5TCbWi3ccnMkJiafJ7g/s1600/IMG_5540.JPG" height="640" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">First day I got to put up her hawk... she found Pops' safety goggles for a total hipster look.</td></tr>
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We have limits - the hawk only goes up on bath days (3 times a week - TOPS) because all that product is terrible for her hair and has to be washed out at the end of the day. So far I love it more each day... and that says a lot because I'm pretty sure I was head-over-heels as we walked out of the salon.<br />
<br />
I worried a lot about the way M would be treated with her hawk honestly. The first real test came at her ballet class. She wore it up and it looked awesome (see first picture) but it's not exactly stereo-typical ballerina hair. And the girls she goes to class with are, well, 5-to-7-year-old-girls. Fortunately, I saw no nastiness. A bit of curiosity, a remark or two - but when one of the teachers came through the class she commented how she had seen M's do on the <a href="http://statigr.am/viewer.php#/user/281496988/">salon instagram</a> account and thought it was the coolest thing she'd ever seen. And today at the library a woman lost her shit over M's hair (she was wearing it down w/ a headband), calling M a little fashionista.<br />
<br />
This whole haircut experience has just taken me another step further on my journey to get over feeling "judged" as a parent. Being a young mom took its toll on me and I worried during M's early years constantly about how I was being perceived by others. It didn't help that we were dirt poor and I feared constantly that someone would think (perhaps realize) that we really didn't make enough money to support a child and turn us into the authorities. This fear nagged at me constantly eating away at my happiness. And it wasn't until Micah joined the Air Force and we stopped having to go over to our parents' homes for dinner because we didn't have money for proper groceries that I realized just how heavy a burden that shit was. Shedding that weight was so freeing, but it's not like you can just drop that sort of worry and paranoia like that.<br />
<br />
I was physically nervous going into that dance studio last week. There's only one mom there that I have ever said more than three words to - and while everyone else seems all right, they also seem different than me. I can't say, because I don't know them, but I'm assuming none of them are twenty-five and I assume none of them make below poverty wages. I'm pretty sure none of them homeschool their children and none of them live blatantly alternative lifestyles. I felt like there would probably be mass disapproval of my daughter's hairstyle and probably some mutterings behind my back.<br />
And you know what?<br />
We ran into one of the families right after class at the sub shop next door and the dad absolutely RAVED about M's hawk. He loved it. Or if he didn't, he made a big show of loving it for M's sake.<br />
<br />
I don't know why I still worry about people judging my parenting decisions. Perhaps it's because my best defense for most of the "why's" people might ask is "why not?" I'm not an eloquent debater when thrown in the spotlight. I mutter and mumble and generally hate defending my choices. But you know what? "Why not?" Is a valid argument most of the time.<br />
And so is "Fuck off." <br />
I've brought two children into this world. I make mistakes, I screw up. I lose my temper and let them get away with shit that they probably shouldn't. I make up my own rules and set my own boundaries. They're not perfect. They weren't gleaned out of Dr. Spock's Guide To Perfect Child-rearing (or Dr. Sears' for that matter)...<br />
I love my kids in ways that I never had fathomed possible before they came along... and everyone says that's what's important.<br />
Nobody is sitting down with a notebook keeping track of what I'm doing except me. Nobody is giving me any more thought than I'm giving them. And because of this, I'm free to live my life and let my daughter cut her hair any way she sees fit.<br />
<br />
<br />Charlihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12393617981797676146noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8018124264628568554.post-39258389319121883502013-11-14T23:11:00.002-05:002013-11-14T23:11:56.703-05:00Since I've Been Gone:Life has continued on it's crazy roller coaster, as it will whether you like it or not. I've had a few good highs. Not as high or as often as I'd like, but hey. It's November and I am GEARING THE FUCK UP for the holidays. First up is Thanksgiving which also coincides with the first day of Hanukkah this year. And guess what we're going to celebrate this year? Hanukkah bitches. Why? Because as an agnostic Unitarian Universalist family - we can... and it's sort of our duty to educate our children about other religions.<br />
<br />
And now, time for completely ridiculous, shitty quality but totally adorable pictures!<br />
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<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh5dG2xCmjDRM_Bd2yEretpuy4-246oQESFcpWLrdUdf09lWNKl5bEneO_cg1Xakvy_nHb69GZebGHX-UOM7JvX1qlqvWMMIUKTZi8s_q4SX_6X_qZmkpu0g0M-ZxfztUmCDMzJjJZuOmo/s1600/Photo+on+2013-11-04+at+19.46+%25236.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="300" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh5dG2xCmjDRM_Bd2yEretpuy4-246oQESFcpWLrdUdf09lWNKl5bEneO_cg1Xakvy_nHb69GZebGHX-UOM7JvX1qlqvWMMIUKTZi8s_q4SX_6X_qZmkpu0g0M-ZxfztUmCDMzJjJZuOmo/s400/Photo+on+2013-11-04+at+19.46+%25236.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">This is what happens when both of my children want to sit on my lap when all I want to do is look at pinterest and enjoy a cup of coffee. or tea. or any boiling hot beverage.</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhqno9X4nl-mQsm-UQZZAoFvHAJFkxwOBomb8UhRyG3YBAVWjyuFDjvN6N6AXBieRkUKrr8a8BnkHDyEzMWv9cKnQDYp7iDYjgVrneH56sQ2TKqbKogn8cyobqHO-LUk3vEi2TRYXYTSes/s1600/IMG_4663.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhqno9X4nl-mQsm-UQZZAoFvHAJFkxwOBomb8UhRyG3YBAVWjyuFDjvN6N6AXBieRkUKrr8a8BnkHDyEzMWv9cKnQDYp7iDYjgVrneH56sQ2TKqbKogn8cyobqHO-LUk3vEi2TRYXYTSes/s400/IMG_4663.JPG" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">READING! The little one "reads" all the time. The big one never reads.</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhkIrzusJgwt0OuHbPu_vXHXCOhfwdOZ7MFkUu9DNGfFsM64KOUPjZzrzuxp3ye58dbIHXfGi-7Jrhr3lsTSvMojg0r8CIMDc_BEOmqQ4XOjzmiiO69wSX9EFXATONBG7pHTo7Vu6ZTng8/s1600/IMG_4690.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhkIrzusJgwt0OuHbPu_vXHXCOhfwdOZ7MFkUu9DNGfFsM64KOUPjZzrzuxp3ye58dbIHXfGi-7Jrhr3lsTSvMojg0r8CIMDc_BEOmqQ4XOjzmiiO69wSX9EFXATONBG7pHTo7Vu6ZTng8/s400/IMG_4690.JPG" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">A new graduated bob for my punkin head. She chopped off quite a ponytail. And hopefully that hair will be long enough to make a new wig for a kid that needs it.</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhVBlNo6CZwUrJP8mX33gipcbDRAMaM0LyDhBaW7QmwuWdSmxRj75oZ7wP4m16lVnrdL4uaEhu7_508yvEvQzVpe1g1rdtfBxgv7U9_BlqKS2qRwM5e9PPipzy4h0fj58_2MWvNCAbMMbw/s1600/IMG_4707.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhVBlNo6CZwUrJP8mX33gipcbDRAMaM0LyDhBaW7QmwuWdSmxRj75oZ7wP4m16lVnrdL4uaEhu7_508yvEvQzVpe1g1rdtfBxgv7U9_BlqKS2qRwM5e9PPipzy4h0fj58_2MWvNCAbMMbw/s640/IMG_4707.jpg" width="476" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Best Blossom ever. Seriously. Homemade costumes rock my world. This one in particular. M was Bubbles and I was Buttercup. The picture of the three of us is pretty terrible and the one of the two of them isn't loading... so here's Blossom.</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh_GYL9hhf_Ebr_BZhmwMA-s22xEGdLbYs8d3npWh5vhX2Q9xfZ9HIb-k6qA192lZN2-XatGdgnXYiB3bbWk5B1vl-XmOVZwzoBZWz1uM3PS7Ud-QiDjRWv1_OB8QV-kQAT8IpJy4UcFa8/s1600/Photo+on+2013-11-04+at+19.46+%25232.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="300" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh_GYL9hhf_Ebr_BZhmwMA-s22xEGdLbYs8d3npWh5vhX2Q9xfZ9HIb-k6qA192lZN2-XatGdgnXYiB3bbWk5B1vl-XmOVZwzoBZWz1uM3PS7Ud-QiDjRWv1_OB8QV-kQAT8IpJy4UcFa8/s400/Photo+on+2013-11-04+at+19.46+%25232.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">And to end things on a high note. This is what happens when I want said children to climb down off my lap so I can finish my now lukewarm coffee, tea, whatever and stare at pinterest for half an hour.</td></tr>
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<br />
So... there's my life. I cut about 15 inches of hair off and I fucking love it. I have been reading more books (graphic novels totally count as "books" in this statement). I have started M on <a href="http://www.barnesandnoble.com/w/teach-your-child-to-read-in-100-easy-lessons-siegfried-engelmann/1000473812?ean=9780671631987">Teach Your Child to Read in 100 Easy Lessons</a>. So far, it's really... easy. <br />
New shrink, finally. No less anxiety or depression yet, but we'll see where this goes.<br />
<br />Charlihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12393617981797676146noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8018124264628568554.post-58423998527883346072013-09-28T13:17:00.000-04:002013-09-28T13:17:03.625-04:00Super Saturday of ThanksgivingAll the things that are right in my life:<br />
<br />
1. Smalls is taking a nap on my lap <i>this very second</i>. She's not cranky, crying or upset that her flipping teeth won't just break thru her gums already!<br />
2. The Punkin Head is doing dot-to-dots of her own accord, counting, recognizing numbers <i>on her own</i>. She asks me questions like, "Is six with the circle on top or bottom?" She is learning. Without much help from me today.<br />
3. Yesterday both kids slept until 8:30. No interruptions. And I slept like my husband.<br />
4. Today Lena woke up at six. But quickly went back to sleep in our bed.<br />
5. My to-do list today is totally doable. And I love it.<br />
6. We spent 40 bucks on groceries this week. Granted that was because we spent entirely too much the previous two weeks, but hey - we've had decent dinners every night. And nobody's starving!<br />
7. I <i>feel</i> better. Monday was rough but every day since that day has gotten progressively better.<br />
8. My bathroom is clean.<br />
9. I am <i>loving</i> my Gender Studies 101 independent study. Because you don't have to go back to college to learn. You can do it at home (or the library).<br />
10. Two words: <i>Harry Potter</i>. We're 3/4 of the way through the first book and I'm <b>stoked</b>. I figure we'll read the first three. And then take a break. The fourth book gets a bit too real for a five-year-old I think.<br />
<br />
So there it is. Happy thoughts oozing out of my head. I'm going to go put this baby in bed and conquer the world. Or Get My Shit Together. Charlihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12393617981797676146noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8018124264628568554.post-92212829377486821322013-09-28T00:30:00.000-04:002013-09-28T00:40:44.147-04:00Five Minute FridayTechnically, I think it's actually Saturday. But I'm still awake, so we'll call it Friday.<br />
The idea behind this is from <a href="http://lisajobaker.com/">Lisa-Jo Baker</a> a blogger that came up with the idea to spit out a stream of consciousness every Friday. Set a timer for five minutes and just have at it.<br />
This sort of thing is right up my alley. In case you haven't noticed, projectile word vomit is sort of my style... for better or worse.<br />
<br />
This week's "topic" is <span style="font-size: large;"><i><b>True</b></i></span><br />
<br />
What is true here, in this house at midnight on a Saturday? Truly, I've been battling my own demons this week. Demons that throw a wet blanket over me, demons that whisper ever so quietly that this life I have... well, I'm fucking it up. That these kids are going to be ruined with such a horrible, lazy, worthless mother.<br />
Truth is - I don't believe them, those demons or their whispers but that doesn't make them go away. That doesn't make the cold, wet blanket they keep tossing on me any lighter.<br />
True - there's couscous all over the floor from lunch, and probably some from last night's dinner.<br />
True - I haven't mopped in well over a week. Damn, tomorrow might make two weeks.<br />
And if we're being absolutely truthful, Marley's homeschool journey lately has consisted of a lot of Harry Potter reading and a little bit of counting with some dot-to-dots thrown in for good measure.<br />
I'm not prepared or over excited. It's fall and my depression is back.<br />
And I was supposed to call and make an appointment with my doctor to see about getting a new psychologist. Truthfully, I didn't. Not because I'm nervous about getting a new shrink or meeting my new primary doctor but because I'm so damned caught up in everything else... like the fact that I put lunch in the microwave and heated it up three times but only ate it as I started cooking dinner because I kept forgetting it was in there.<br />
This is my mental state.<br />
And as bad as it is, I know I'll survive. I know that days will be brighter and I will get back on track with housekeeping and school and general happiness. Life always gets <i>better</i>. Every. Single. Time.<br />
So I make the choice to keep living. And some days it is a conscious choice to live.<br />
That is the <b>scary</b><i> </i>truth about my life. Some days, I make the decision to keep going.<br />
But I've never decided on the alternative.<br />
And I won't.<br />
Because no matter what, I will be better.<br />
<br />
Ok. So I think that was like six minutes of writing. I'm not sure. But there it is.<br />
The prompt was true and you got a rambling confession of someone suffering from depression and anxiety.<br />
It's not pretty.<br />
But it's true.<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<span style="font-size: x-small;">Wanna join in on the fun?</span><br />
<span style="font-size: x-small;">Click <a href="http://lisajobaker.com/2013/09/when-a-blogger-gets-stage-fright/">here</a>.</span><br />
<span style="font-size: x-small;">Learn the <a href="http://lisajobaker.com/five-minute-friday/">rules</a>.</span><br />
<span style="font-size: x-small;">Dive in. </span> Charlihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12393617981797676146noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8018124264628568554.post-73767667451754140892013-09-24T14:54:00.000-04:002013-09-24T14:56:48.495-04:00New Goals:Develop a morning AND evening "beauty" routine.<br />
Because this:<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh-uxE7IdzEqlEb_GO-1wQCufJDwHex1D-IhgPaFJaJMXuf7KQqsI-nnUO0z0h8-7FkvOmIpGEYaSKIpq6Ahk5_YPPE6NrD6EIl-0inXTr3RXMRYkIgZ9AXNVYQQmWqUbQ_4QzwSU6a9jY/s1600/Photo+on+2013-09-24+at+14.43+%232.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh-uxE7IdzEqlEb_GO-1wQCufJDwHex1D-IhgPaFJaJMXuf7KQqsI-nnUO0z0h8-7FkvOmIpGEYaSKIpq6Ahk5_YPPE6NrD6EIl-0inXTr3RXMRYkIgZ9AXNVYQQmWqUbQ_4QzwSU6a9jY/s320/Photo+on+2013-09-24+at+14.43+%232.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>
is not really a good look for anyone. and sometimes I realize it's one o'clock in the afternoon and I haven't brushed my teeth yet. Or eaten anything but a Milky Way Caramel Apple candy (Oh my god, have you tried those? They're AMAZING. And Micah keeps buying them). Probably should set a new dieting goal too. In that I should eat some sort of real food before two p.m. everyday. <br />
<br />
And yes. There is a pillow on my bed that doesn't have a proper case on it.<br />
Ignore that. I just washed the sheets like three days ago. And no the bed's not made. There's a baby sleeping in it behind me.<br />
<br />
This whole beauty routine thing has been a goal of mine since New Years. Did I do anything about it? No. However, I did buy about 100 bucks worth of make up when Micah came home from his deployment in May. And I NEVER wear it. So I basically spent 100 bucks on my face for about three days. Because I wore make up the first three days he was back and then realized I do NOT care about make up.<br />
<br />
But yesterday my undies matched my bra and I felt like a super hero for about two hours.<br />
Who knows, maybe if I put on a bit of blush and mascara and comb my hair with something other than my fingers I'll feel like mother fucking Aphrodite.<br />
Also, I need to tweeze my eyebrows something fierce. They're starting to itch my face. Anybody ever let eyebrows get that bad? No? It's just me then? Ah well. <br />
And this shirt I'm wearing - it's the only shirt I own that I like. The ONLY one.<br />
<br />
I really should take some sort of ADD medication. I can't type three sentences without getting side tracked fifteen times. And I type like 80 words a minute.<br />
<br />
I'm off to paint my nails.<br />
And Marley's nails.<br />
And maybe scrounge up a pair of tweezers. <br />
<br />
<br />Charlihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12393617981797676146noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8018124264628568554.post-57186247089448639652013-09-02T20:12:00.000-04:002013-09-02T20:12:06.172-04:005/52<div style="text-align: center;">
<a href="http://cheandfidel.blogspot.com/2013/09/3552.html"><i><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">"A portrait of my children, once a week, every week, in my 26th year."</span></i></a></div>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjglITd1MSSCtTpWhMNTKfROxgUuv4UzBg6r1zE2n5rnZ5D9Pt0jATk3qoAtZDXPPNIOZ5MAfCK6tcMEuEYf1-BRM-AKvNsDhNS-OZlPC9r10kdr1Q4xhGeiR9c_Jh3UBIkfuKM-Z4CaL0/s1600/05+Marley.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="318" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjglITd1MSSCtTpWhMNTKfROxgUuv4UzBg6r1zE2n5rnZ5D9Pt0jATk3qoAtZDXPPNIOZ5MAfCK6tcMEuEYf1-BRM-AKvNsDhNS-OZlPC9r10kdr1Q4xhGeiR9c_Jh3UBIkfuKM-Z4CaL0/s640/05+Marley.jpg" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">She had so much fun with this umbrella. There was just enough wind for her to be pulled around by it, but not so much that she lost control. </td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhuenPxQryvqLB7rZfspezbWrKqD58IbYi8K7h5w8Guc1WeZwraoNtJROo1PgA66B2deRz4ha3sn3ME3JMIzuZd7v7KPn2z09wYy2mljOcQoGhlHTdX6AZIRMSJMNjF8WhWGPcizP5xDsc/s1600/05+Lena.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="456" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhuenPxQryvqLB7rZfspezbWrKqD58IbYi8K7h5w8Guc1WeZwraoNtJROo1PgA66B2deRz4ha3sn3ME3JMIzuZd7v7KPn2z09wYy2mljOcQoGhlHTdX6AZIRMSJMNjF8WhWGPcizP5xDsc/s640/05+Lena.jpg" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">I believe the sentiment was, "ew, Mom, this does NOT belong here!" And yes, I put my camera down and yanked it right out of her hand and threw it in a trashcan.</td></tr>
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<i><a href="http://cheandfidel.blogspot.com/search/label/52"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgcl5tNQL2S-wbYJFgpBHwB5ciBWGHuN1ic-hn4D3kMRw2hadLuZXGwUwpF5CQqC7NWVwy4kX_80flg_A8q7rsOrZsIbFnDkR2JxpPpKxsLkMnskcIgZgzzlQbGz0CMMVTDSZtvp5uyrwk/s1600/52.jpg" /></a></i></div>
Charlihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12393617981797676146noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8018124264628568554.post-74708564505060330652013-08-27T17:26:00.000-04:002013-08-27T17:26:03.859-04:004/52<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgm6y59oJrReMp7swTb3HgMx-oqZ_eScG4YihvJZwZ1tfIG9t-SoFZEf0PlyY423TrvTiiR17XFvp8W39qBEsmSzaLA9VpAAXJgLKciCs6CYnz1huV7MslJmGJBiFVPjG_sTv4v_qoeKoo/s1600/04+Lena.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgm6y59oJrReMp7swTb3HgMx-oqZ_eScG4YihvJZwZ1tfIG9t-SoFZEf0PlyY423TrvTiiR17XFvp8W39qBEsmSzaLA9VpAAXJgLKciCs6CYnz1huV7MslJmGJBiFVPjG_sTv4v_qoeKoo/s640/04+Lena.jpg" width="456" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">This week Lena turned a corner and now I really feel like she'll be
walking any day now. Standing on her own, walking along the wall with
one hand... She's getting so big, so fast.</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh2vWbmMmO-Pozu6RWHIe1GDHN3E3VwzJKLTFjSDsOCfp5wugmpL5ucq1fLDDpp7Q33wnK06D0BC5tfla61DEZV6YoydopjD01ysISE_mmDgUlGqOUYDpIUN6zT-tpEr0hUVcvk3TotVpg/s1600/04+Marley.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh2vWbmMmO-Pozu6RWHIe1GDHN3E3VwzJKLTFjSDsOCfp5wugmpL5ucq1fLDDpp7Q33wnK06D0BC5tfla61DEZV6YoydopjD01ysISE_mmDgUlGqOUYDpIUN6zT-tpEr0hUVcvk3TotVpg/s640/04+Marley.jpg" width="426" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">"Don't worry Mom, I figured out how to put the clips in my hair myself." Don't worry Marley, I won't worry. </td></tr>
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<a href="http://cheandfidel.blogspot.com/search/label/52"><i>a portrait of my children, one a week, every week in my 26th year</i></a></div>
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Charlihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12393617981797676146noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8018124264628568554.post-81291595541524264502013-08-26T18:17:00.000-04:002013-08-26T18:17:41.053-04:00off to work I go... <div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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(and then you imagine the seven dwarfs whistling or something... I, however, cannot whistle)<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjvHMMMHCgQT8v4rNtOptd1GW3T_4dO694ovgaWWXVOJVgq6pEcAG3gzvB3FMgDx0QTUesa5YxxKXoYNWPFNPGjOUX5x7eq6qpidjz5F9kOkkrD6eeuG2xLgoMAsuWY5OMmZk9icyrpZCA/s1600/twisty+toes.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjvHMMMHCgQT8v4rNtOptd1GW3T_4dO694ovgaWWXVOJVgq6pEcAG3gzvB3FMgDx0QTUesa5YxxKXoYNWPFNPGjOUX5x7eq6qpidjz5F9kOkkrD6eeuG2xLgoMAsuWY5OMmZk9icyrpZCA/s640/twisty+toes.jpg" width="456" /></a></div>
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it's all black and white today as I get back to work on a micro-session (a mini-session totally cut short by lightening) I shot for a friend of mine.<br />
because I'm getting back in the game.<br />
You know, the game where you make money.<br />
Seeing as I've racked up more than a few thousand dollars in debt learning how to use my fancy pants camera... maybe I should attempt to use it to pay some of those student loans off. ASAP.<br />
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This is G. Not only is she adorable and ridiculously awesome - she totally organized Lena's play area whilst her mother and I chatted it up post-shoot. <br />
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So, I shall be volunteering to shoot more friends' kids until I get a portfolio together, a website up and hopefully a steady string of clients.<br />
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GONNA CONQUER THE WORLD! Charlihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12393617981797676146noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8018124264628568554.post-43380553485411483882013-08-18T15:07:00.001-04:002013-08-19T13:59:59.333-04:003/52<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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<i><a href="http://cheandfidel.blogspot.com/2013/08/3352.html">a portrait of my children, once a week, every week in my 26th year</a></i></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj07WuXfNNPQqUKgN0OAMQ11mlv7wuuO1fVPJjcNhB7s-EZqbnj6VcSyWC4PG3HHONbXVLcBJ5VDvf7lUaSNd4k2lU6agqufRIYoffqcDjK0m6L5zgW3lPfvG1-fwfVDFNr6-b7hegV7rM/s1600/03+Marley.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="425" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj07WuXfNNPQqUKgN0OAMQ11mlv7wuuO1fVPJjcNhB7s-EZqbnj6VcSyWC4PG3HHONbXVLcBJ5VDvf7lUaSNd4k2lU6agqufRIYoffqcDjK0m6L5zgW3lPfvG1-fwfVDFNr6-b7hegV7rM/s640/03+Marley.jpg" width="640" /></a></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiwgvpkvcJ0k8pmUbyobjiKM84Go-Q20bMaVQAW-wlbtZCd1GBsSbKzL-O37ltmsLLjcl7sA3_JfJY4U2ri9vCGpsD-BG6Lm1aF-csb5xDKomS3fxkV_FXQt-HCRfPmcb6N98ZF0TdFyPM/s1600/03+Lena.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiwgvpkvcJ0k8pmUbyobjiKM84Go-Q20bMaVQAW-wlbtZCd1GBsSbKzL-O37ltmsLLjcl7sA3_JfJY4U2ri9vCGpsD-BG6Lm1aF-csb5xDKomS3fxkV_FXQt-HCRfPmcb6N98ZF0TdFyPM/s640/03+Lena.jpg" width="425" /></a></div>
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Gentle mornings have shifted in this house. My once docile, sleepy-headed, late-sleeper has taken to waking us up with screeches and rough housing.<br />
Saturday morning was an all-out assault on the parental units from two over-energetic little munchkins. The littlest munchkin has never really been the calm, docile type but she was feeling especially wild and screechy yesterday morning.<br />
I suppose you can't expect your kids to be unchanging.<br />
And it was a hell of a lot of fun tickling the shit out of my husband who just might be more ticklish than M, certainly just as giggly.<br />
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<i>*edited because after looking at the pictures for five minutes my brain wanted to explode... so I ran a different process on them.</i> </div>
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<br />Charlihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12393617981797676146noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8018124264628568554.post-21389922417847769012013-08-09T10:15:00.001-04:002013-08-19T15:53:02.063-04:00This week in homeschooling:In an attempt to expose my children to all kinds of ideas and raise them up to be freethinkers, I have taken it upon myself to celebrate holidays from a smattering of world religions.<br />
I feel like M and L can learn from religions through their holy days and holy shit! - do you know how fun it is to celebrate new holidays??? Is this cultural appropriation? <br />
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This week saw the end of the Muslim holy month of Ramadan with a festival called Eid-al-fitr. I was pretty stoked to get to introduce M to Islam. Mostly because I remember my introduction to Islam.<br />
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I was in the eighth grade and some crazy psychopaths flew planes into the World Trade Center. And suddenly I got a whole education of Islam from scared, paranoid, conservative Christians.<br />
Sure there were whispers of, "Calm the fuck down homies, not all Muslims are like that." But in my 'hood - the consensus was that Muslims hated Americans and were just waiting for the chance to strap a bomb to their chest and blow up as many infidels as possible.<br />
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Thankfully I saw through that bullshit pretty quick.<br />
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So, for the past three days I have been able to introduce my daughter to terms like the Five Pillars, Ramadan, Eid, fasting, giving alms, Muhammad, and Allah. She's five. We didn't get into anything too complicated.<br />
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Did she retain anything? I don't know.<br />
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But she did make a crescent moon and star sign for our front door, taste dates for the first time and make an Eid cake (because Eid is the time for sweet treats, giving back to the community and family togetherness).<br />
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And hopefully, as she grows up, she'll see Muslims just like anyone else. She'll have a better understanding of what it means to be Muslim (or Buddhist, Hindu, Christian, Sikh, Wiccan, etc). <br />
And hopefully, when she grows up, she'll remember all the fun times we had celebrating and learning. <br />
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<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi3ibkVRO_OKBxsjz1Ri7ZLD6vZqvLfSP6B6SJCu_y8bnJ2ypqZp3AI4qodqsQAM5cmkfyra52FAxu5s9lWKyTRpxGthJEOIOZclIpkzAIf-SiFNb4SM5RSGwkM4makGbuGIG4_8AlPvHI/s1600/IMG_4134.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi3ibkVRO_OKBxsjz1Ri7ZLD6vZqvLfSP6B6SJCu_y8bnJ2ypqZp3AI4qodqsQAM5cmkfyra52FAxu5s9lWKyTRpxGthJEOIOZclIpkzAIf-SiFNb4SM5RSGwkM4makGbuGIG4_8AlPvHI/s640/IMG_4134.jpg" width="478" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">The sign reads "Eid Mubarak" - with a few extra letters tossed in for good measure...</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi91BkEyqsPCkGhtX5mm87QybfHPy1g4LIlegtz81pxAdIGMZCHO9T7-h_3XbX9TR-AMIxyKmdgWBllBHEDQFnCU2ooSBAtKheE5W5yYpqHWXL1Dtw2xx7QsHc5AF4XjWf0d1cv-yzb4XU/s1600/IMG_4143.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi91BkEyqsPCkGhtX5mm87QybfHPy1g4LIlegtz81pxAdIGMZCHO9T7-h_3XbX9TR-AMIxyKmdgWBllBHEDQFnCU2ooSBAtKheE5W5yYpqHWXL1Dtw2xx7QsHc5AF4XjWf0d1cv-yzb4XU/s640/IMG_4143.jpg" width="478" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">The cake probably <i>should</i> read "Eid Mubarak" but we had no writable frosting and there was no way it was going to fit written in fruit. So, just Eid! With a sparkler for festiveness. </td></tr>
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With that I wish you all a delayed Eid Mubarak. Charlihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12393617981797676146noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8018124264628568554.post-83297234622953183242013-08-09T09:41:00.003-04:002013-08-09T09:45:10.193-04:002/52<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="http://cheandfidel.blogspot.com/2012/12/the-52-project.html"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgcl5tNQL2S-wbYJFgpBHwB5ciBWGHuN1ic-hn4D3kMRw2hadLuZXGwUwpF5CQqC7NWVwy4kX_80flg_A8q7rsOrZsIbFnDkR2JxpPpKxsLkMnskcIgZgzzlQbGz0CMMVTDSZtvp5uyrwk/s1600/52.jpg" /><span id="goog_210644471"></span></a><span id="goog_210644472"></span></div>
This week on a scale of one to ten has been a 9 overall. Setting goals, setting out on my grand adventure, feeling confident in myself and my abilities - hell even working out at least five times... Marley started dance camp on Monday - which is weird because she's never been in daycare or gone to any kind of camp. She seems to really enjoy it and I know Lena enjoys the mornings with Mom and Pops.<br />
Because fuck yes! My lovely husband is back on swing shifts! That means no early mornings that lead to tired afternoons that lead to grumpy evenings that lead to stupid nightly arguments.<br />
Because in this house, we like to sleep in. We like to start the days off slow with a leisurely cup of coffee. And we like to take 45 minutes to get our feet on the floor after we wake up.<br />
Some might call that lazy, but I call it bliss.<br />
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Without further ado, I shall finish writing this little blog post that I started three days ago.<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiiV-67BBV6uRbN9SbmXiXPxonlTWr9J8cA1a_onCM57WZms5SYteucpcwr5YjznTFTpm-jur6qSanI2O4BklGFnsAyqqMYEnt8M3dB3ugoCOEcmENs-XeVJYvjkH_-nmTqLSAbV6-TF-0/s1600/Bath+Portrait+L+bw.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiiV-67BBV6uRbN9SbmXiXPxonlTWr9J8cA1a_onCM57WZms5SYteucpcwr5YjznTFTpm-jur6qSanI2O4BklGFnsAyqqMYEnt8M3dB3ugoCOEcmENs-XeVJYvjkH_-nmTqLSAbV6-TF-0/s640/Bath+Portrait+L+bw.jpg" width="425" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Lena, in the bath with her ridiculously long bangs.</td></tr>
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This week Lena demonstrated her mad patty cake skills by doing the motions all by herself without prompting. She is ADORABLE. Also, she said Pops. Once. I think. <br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgDPKTx9YTkzxs0q9wVRKChHgHxrFFKrvkifJaUOk9nxGZWgDLi_rHrDFi7YMZaohcIRFOnqHHL_zOHWIeXWeDGh2WLTXoZa1T3lXTWFMw_vR1QUIa2zV5fOyK1cv-uov8AePOex9Guvbk/s1600/graceful+umbrella.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgDPKTx9YTkzxs0q9wVRKChHgHxrFFKrvkifJaUOk9nxGZWgDLi_rHrDFi7YMZaohcIRFOnqHHL_zOHWIeXWeDGh2WLTXoZa1T3lXTWFMw_vR1QUIa2zV5fOyK1cv-uov8AePOex9Guvbk/s640/graceful+umbrella.jpg" width="456" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Marley in her tutu and mud boots, practicing her dance moves in the rain. She thought the elephant ears made perfect umbrellas.</td></tr>
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Marley has taken an interest in the body - as most kindergarteners do I suppose. So yesterday we did a taste test and learned about the nervous system. We have <a href="http://www.amazon.com/Head-Toe-Amazing-Human-Works/dp/0439570662/ref=sr_1_6?s=books&ie=UTF8&qid=1376055657&sr=1-6&keywords=from+head+to+toe">this</a> book from the library and it's pretty awesome. <br />
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This year will be the best yet. I'm sure of it.Charlihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12393617981797676146noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8018124264628568554.post-21151714937586571642013-08-01T17:43:00.000-04:002013-08-01T17:44:39.740-04:00In searching for a specific Neil Gaiman quote, I found this:<div style="text-align: center;">
<span style="font-size: large;">“May your coming year be filled with magic and dreams and good
madness. I hope you read some fine books and kiss someone who thinks
you're wonderful, and don't forget to make some art -- write or draw or
build or sing or live as only you can. And I hope, somewhere in the next
year, you surprise yourself.”
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<span style="font-size: large;">―
<a href="https://www.goodreads.com/author/show/1221698.Neil_Gaiman">Neil Gaiman</a></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-size: small;">Holy shit guys. </span></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-size: small;">It is perfect.</span></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-size: small;">I mean, I've heard it before... but it's My New Year! I'm loving this year so far. Twenty-five rocks my socks. I mean, sure the floor hasn't been mopped in like a month and the filter in the vacuum is so filthy it's been rendered completely ineffectual and I have spent more than a couple hours completely paralyzed by the dreadful feeling that the world is slowly ending, falling down all around me and there's absolutely nothing I can do to stop it and it's also quite possible I've only remembered to put deodorant on twice since I turned 25...</span></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-size: small;">I digress.</span></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-size: small;">As usual. There was a point in there somewhere.</span></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-size: small;">My original point (before discovering this amazingly appropriate Neil Gaiman quote) was that I shall be writing this year. Possibly switching between this blog and a novel I started two years ago. Because my goal is to finish that beast by my twenty-sixth birthday... well finish writing it anyway. No promises on <i>editing</i>. </span></span> </div>
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And no promises that it'll be worth reading. But it will be done. Written as only I can write. </div>
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And I <i>will</i> surprise myself. </div>
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Because I'm awesome. </div>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEior10lN-hAOviZh0qdvf_eVY2Ff8hpE17beJgVcBkrv0YiJ6119nB1h6qyIcePW8Iw42Ci62eSPrrhbt3kLk4Y5QgMHabG4_iG-bqNYhA0MnUnr_j26MrJERkip1F1GM71SS6F4e7kC9U/s1600/IMG_4110.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEior10lN-hAOviZh0qdvf_eVY2Ff8hpE17beJgVcBkrv0YiJ6119nB1h6qyIcePW8Iw42Ci62eSPrrhbt3kLk4Y5QgMHabG4_iG-bqNYhA0MnUnr_j26MrJERkip1F1GM71SS6F4e7kC9U/s400/IMG_4110.JPG" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">I <3 this quote so much I made a little poster to put above my goals for the year while M was practicing her letters this afternoon. Yes, I hang things on my walls with painters tape and pushpins. Stop judging me.</td></tr>
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Charlihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12393617981797676146noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8018124264628568554.post-83749362315195321842013-07-31T14:24:00.000-04:002013-07-31T14:57:46.238-04:001/52So I follow the blog <a href="http://cheandfidel.blogspot.com/">Che and Fidel</a> quite regularly. Mostly because I love the beautiful highlight reel that it shows of a family's life in Australia but also a little because I can hear my dad's scoff and admonishment of such a dirty commie name for a child and blog (and holy shit if you ever read this Jodi - I personally love your children's names and think they are wonderful). <br />
But I find that the family at Che and Fidel is enchanting and Jodi does such a lovely job capturing her children and their life. It just seems so perfect. Days filled with tea and warm knits and yoga. Berry picking and homemade organic foods. Perfectly styled bedrooms and outfits.<br />
And I want MY life to be that beautiful. And I want MY world to be that picturesque. And I want. I want. I want.<br />
But then, oh, wait. It is that beautiful.<br />
I realized that keenly a few months ago when I went back through roughly two years of instagram photos. Two years of my life captured on a silly little app from a silly little iPod and then recently a silly little iPhone. And guys - my highlight reel is amazing. Absolutely AMAZING.<br />
Sure, I'm half crazy and mental disorders spring up every other month and the kids can be shitheads and whine. And there are lean times and small apartments and dog vomit on the floor. There are bruises and bumps. Temper tantrums and nuclear meltdowns. There is a slew of processed food, shiny plastic toys, and a host of inorganic everything. There are plenty of arguments, passive aggressive bullshit and raw nerves.<br />
But my oh my.<br />
The highlights?<br />
They are HIGH. <br />
In that spirit, I'm starting a project - started (inspired?) by Che and Fidel.<br />
It's pretty simple.<br />
A weekly portrait of my children in my 26th year.<br />
Yes folks. I'm putting that fancy camera to use once more (well at least 52 more times).<br />
<br />
And without further ado:<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgtmBxgTG5nZoLqeHM4Yy5fPPd4s2fiTBA_qGyXJ8QbGMUTxLVRYIk-zgajD5Ke-OeK6DHJvYbog4Ow9-6PkxNWW3KkZRfVl97TLz6Y6gighMYMjTeX1kAeIVoHQfs_TWiI0hKecaU5wFo/s1600/lena+portrait+1_52+HP.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgtmBxgTG5nZoLqeHM4Yy5fPPd4s2fiTBA_qGyXJ8QbGMUTxLVRYIk-zgajD5Ke-OeK6DHJvYbog4Ow9-6PkxNWW3KkZRfVl97TLz6Y6gighMYMjTeX1kAeIVoHQfs_TWiI0hKecaU5wFo/s640/lena+portrait+1_52+HP.jpg" width="456" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">L and her smirk, playing with big sister's shaving cream</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiI8a6uEbCjhazLNctyz2moJU3B43XlSNfy52lhiRJQmGlxZd18Rm1uHWS56SSZFME3Ue78W7j5qlVmGux1-IdR_KgcoCbiEQi4vnBTionIJdAQfryrYiYzetB153gT6NTnVi_9Mqkw2X0/s1600/marley+portrait+1_52+HP.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiI8a6uEbCjhazLNctyz2moJU3B43XlSNfy52lhiRJQmGlxZd18Rm1uHWS56SSZFME3Ue78W7j5qlVmGux1-IdR_KgcoCbiEQi4vnBTionIJdAQfryrYiYzetB153gT6NTnVi_9Mqkw2X0/s640/marley+portrait+1_52+HP.jpg" width="456" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">M covered in shaving cream with a rare genuine smile while the camera is out.</td></tr>
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<br />
This week I set out to take a portrait of my children at a specific time together. I'm not sure I'll do that every week. I think I'd like to have a more organic capture of life, keeping my camera ready.<br />
<br />Charlihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12393617981797676146noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8018124264628568554.post-30816971658021425522012-10-25T14:57:00.001-04:002012-10-25T15:04:08.505-04:00iPhone documentation of AwesomenessOr why homeschool is perfect when your husband works swing shifts (3-11)<br />
<br />
Wake up, suggest a trip to the park, and have the husband counter-offer with a trip to Lettuce Lake Park. Adventure Thursday!<div class="separator"style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjVwnNqpBtRM9SQ3e_2VGSUBn2KC9gMVMR-WB-gnNiIiotQnPHKWBaBqYVGFaBxq6LRV9dv0g9OjqoQwYBd_FlM3tB7CyLjo9TMd10JZWkt2qAbMGfsSq3cbPqjUNp0Rk2zZgTbZL3aVnY/s640/blogger-image--1722868814.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjVwnNqpBtRM9SQ3e_2VGSUBn2KC9gMVMR-WB-gnNiIiotQnPHKWBaBqYVGFaBxq6LRV9dv0g9OjqoQwYBd_FlM3tB7CyLjo9TMd10JZWkt2qAbMGfsSq3cbPqjUNp0Rk2zZgTbZL3aVnY/s640/blogger-image--1722868814.jpg" /></a></div><div class="separator"style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiV5TEaQAmZzH1HOmEHXBSCUt-QBz0Hc1hPb5ihT319GCjbCyF-t5whUFTXemn4fkORzEmj-MPkbn_ToNs5vAiowPzu9aGAqwoVUjClrLp2UexLnmmij3Wod2RSzIv79wO-wjfqU5lXkTA/s640/blogger-image--198385652.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiV5TEaQAmZzH1HOmEHXBSCUt-QBz0Hc1hPb5ihT319GCjbCyF-t5whUFTXemn4fkORzEmj-MPkbn_ToNs5vAiowPzu9aGAqwoVUjClrLp2UexLnmmij3Wod2RSzIv79wO-wjfqU5lXkTA/s640/blogger-image--198385652.jpg" /></a></div><div class="separator"style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiYzWbSta_STpmbYloHh_JoayHFLsoLBQVcyjdT60Lsg2ZbJisKeNJXT9kXphR9bEmAANbR0mQlxUfOZYOs8FOrdD6S4nA1pjt1SNDD3NZnVxlY3hK-NIVNHdFl1GJZhKneJqqvsN5jqQc/s640/blogger-image--1376427586.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiYzWbSta_STpmbYloHh_JoayHFLsoLBQVcyjdT60Lsg2ZbJisKeNJXT9kXphR9bEmAANbR0mQlxUfOZYOs8FOrdD6S4nA1pjt1SNDD3NZnVxlY3hK-NIVNHdFl1GJZhKneJqqvsN5jqQc/s640/blogger-image--1376427586.jpg" /></a></div>Charlihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12393617981797676146noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8018124264628568554.post-72496641901936833492012-10-17T01:40:00.000-04:002012-10-17T01:40:35.270-04:0031 Days: Mind, Body, SpiritI'm always setting goals.<br />
I rarely follow through on them completely.<br />
I have to admit, the attempt to keep a cleaner house was a success. While my bedroom often stays a mess and things are cluttered and I wouldn't eat off the floor or anything - I'm not embarrassed to have people over any more.<br />
But usually, if I set a goal... I spiral into one of those "<a href="http://hyperboleandahalf.blogspot.com/2010/06/this-is-why-ill-never-be-adult.html">why I'll never be an adult</a>" moments. I set a trillion goals (usually at one in the morning) that I <i>will</i> accomplish. Because, psh. Who <i>can't</i> do that shit? <i>All</i> that shit?<br />
<br />
But... I realized something yesterday.<br />
You can set stupidly easy goals.<br />
You can set ridiculously attainable goals.<br />
And if you fail - you can just start. the. fuck. over.<br />
<br />
I do it <i>all </i>the time.<br />
<br />
The starting over bit. Not really the attainable goals bit. In my mind goals must be lofty and grandiose... or why set them? The attainable things should be things that I just <i>do. </i>You know? <i>Automatically.</i> <br />
<br />
Going through my <a href="http://pinterest.com/charli/">pinterest</a> board of <a href="http://pinterest.com/charli/inspirational-ideas/">inspirational ideas</a>, I stumbled upon <a href="http://elisabethstone.blogspot.com/2012/07/30daysmindandbody-round-two.html">Manic Mrs. Stone's #30daysmindandbody</a>. A pin I pinned god knows when (probably anyone that looks at the pin but ain't nobody got time for that shit).<br />
The gist - give yourself a month to, I don't know. Do something.<br />
<br />
So - I'm going to.<br />
<br />
31 Days: Mind, Body and Spirit... I added the Spirit because it's probably the most important part.<br />
My goals - there's five:<br />
<br />
1.<b> Chemical-free bathing</b>. I was going to say Chemical-free body but I don't have the ingredients for my homemade deodorant or lotion. But I am going back to <a href="http://www.naturemoms.com/no-shampoo-alternative.html">no-poo</a> because it's easy, cheap and I like the way it makes my hair feel.<br />
2. <b>Read, Photograph <i>OR</i> Meditate everyday</b>. I can do at least <i>one</i> of those three things on a daily basis - that's where the soul part comes in I suppose.<br />
3. <b>Outdoor time three times a week</b>. because I cannot let my depression keep me cooped up in my house. It's not good for these kids of mine.<br />
4. <b>Fitness twice a week</b>. I hate working out. I loathe running. That whole Couch to 5K thing - <i>fuck</i> that. Seriously. But I can probably go on an extended walk or do some light yoga at least twice a week. <i>Some</i>thing is better than nothing.<br />
5. <b>Line-a-day journaling daily<i>. </i></b>I got one of those journals last summer and have been neglecting it. It's super easy and I probably won't regret jotting down a note or two about my life on a daily basis. It's not even that complicated. And it'll help me review my day, keep my memory a bit sharper.<br />
<br />
So there you have it. Five super attainable goals.<br />
And if I don't meet them, no biggie. But I set them so that I could. There's nothing complicated.<br />
Day one was today and it went off without a hitch. I meditated and did my line-a-day journal entry... exercise, that'll come tomorrow I'm sure. <br />
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I'll leave you with this amazing song, also on my inspirational ideas pin board. Charlihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12393617981797676146noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8018124264628568554.post-70075036417233001872012-09-05T12:44:00.001-04:002012-09-05T12:44:40.027-04:00Homeschool Day 2M has decided ocean animals will be fun to study. <div class="separator"style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgQ65CJRKP2QoZXDAbjw9eR9nC8OawPGztEWFEiy5nVEj-bZYN0PCrBCrjgo6fsYsIAcxz-nR1V4GnSSiPL2EhdzNEhXg2ynW6FURLZMpzGmJUBKxpZk4Fe_izMNpRd2wg7Vlxl_3wyU6k/s640/blogger-image-1082274342.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgQ65CJRKP2QoZXDAbjw9eR9nC8OawPGztEWFEiy5nVEj-bZYN0PCrBCrjgo6fsYsIAcxz-nR1V4GnSSiPL2EhdzNEhXg2ynW6FURLZMpzGmJUBKxpZk4Fe_izMNpRd2wg7Vlxl_3wyU6k/s640/blogger-image-1082274342.jpg" /></a></div>Charlihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12393617981797676146noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8018124264628568554.post-30920768260129426242012-08-29T17:30:00.001-04:002012-08-29T17:40:08.986-04:00My little LegolasMy heart sings when M likes the same things as her Pops. <br />
Here she demonstrates her elvish bow skills. In her Ariel dress. <br />
Because she's legit like that. <div class="separator"style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj2kRzpiflxf-HDbwe5NATVNhLZYOSFGexUDe4AklLNGV6dfCCQ64vrKZkoJi2CXmKP6OPAu_1NBzGpOs2yk6cNaMSWt0gMofG9XwduZI4sSuG4S26YwDxZtf7fJpKyswD_veYH5xDmeEI/s640/blogger-image-24211177.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj2kRzpiflxf-HDbwe5NATVNhLZYOSFGexUDe4AklLNGV6dfCCQ64vrKZkoJi2CXmKP6OPAu_1NBzGpOs2yk6cNaMSWt0gMofG9XwduZI4sSuG4S26YwDxZtf7fJpKyswD_veYH5xDmeEI/s640/blogger-image-24211177.jpg" /></a></div>Charlihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12393617981797676146noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8018124264628568554.post-65564123236681626422012-08-29T10:38:00.000-04:002012-08-29T10:38:19.045-04:00Hello Again Old Friend. The recipe for my particular brand of postpartum depression:<br />
<br />
1 part PMS psycho bitch hormones<br />
3 parts extreme apathy <br />
2 parts crushing hopelessness<br />
4 parts inexplicable rage<br />
1 part general sad/weepiness<br />
<br />
Take ingredients and toss haphazardly into a blender. Do not place lid on said blender. Turn on high and watch as yet another mental disorder spews its shitty mess all over everything and everyone around you. <br />
Stare hopelessly at said mess and wonder how the hell you're going to clean this up. <br />
Do not turn off blender. Simply add more ingredients as you have them. <br />
When out of ingredients, collapse into a heap. <br />
<br />
This is where I am right now.<br />
I, however, am extremely lucky in that I <i>know</i> that this is post postpartum depression. I know that PPD is temporary and that like all depression - he is a lying bastard. PPD will probably stick around a few months and vacate just in time for SAD (which is an acronym for my other best mental disorder Seasonal Affective Disorder). This is the pessimist in me.<br />
But I do know that it will be bright again. The sun will shine. Babies will laugh. Chocolate cakes will be made (and hopefully consumed by me).<br />
So today I am going to drag my ass up, take a shower, read a <a href="http://www.lettersofnote.com/2009/10/it-will-be-sunny-one-day.html">heart-warming letter</a> from <a href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Stephen_Fry">Stephen Fry</a>, be grateful for the good times and attempt to march through another day.<br />
And maybe today will be that <a href="http://www.lettersofnote.com/2009/10/it-will-be-sunny-one-day.html">sunny day</a>. Charlihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12393617981797676146noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8018124264628568554.post-7370304475386024962012-08-27T09:00:00.000-04:002012-08-27T13:13:41.273-04:00The birth and first month of LIn pictures.<br />
Taken on the iPod or iPhone. <br />
Not in chronological order or anything.<br />
Because that would take a lot of effort.<br />
And more energy than I currently have. <br />
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">The view from the Delivery Suite. Room 13. Lucky 13.</td><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><br /></td></tr>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Clearly not in too much pain.</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjdMg5BCnpMH1L_nn9Rq5V0ygRlWZgoWiGwkNT9sFS8XEYqRCUMpvqC7yxWTiVVtC4hrRUfNBy2DbOlu9H2orR0-DFFxgQi3_jTrHDdkKeb2SI95CoGhuRZbvq2R3fcYDal8emaZZFZobQ/s1600/IMG_1091.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjdMg5BCnpMH1L_nn9Rq5V0ygRlWZgoWiGwkNT9sFS8XEYqRCUMpvqC7yxWTiVVtC4hrRUfNBy2DbOlu9H2orR0-DFFxgQi3_jTrHDdkKeb2SI95CoGhuRZbvq2R3fcYDal8emaZZFZobQ/s320/IMG_1091.JPG" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">And then you get a baby. Getting measured.<br />
(It jumps like this because I am not one of those crazy bitches who wants graphic Tarantino-esque delivery pictures. Hell, I might have shot my husband in the face if he had pulled a camera out between the hours of 2 and 6 that day) </td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg3lWPSWgj-ARYIaKDwGnfm_zChaqYeGF4fgw-irl3WFnnx2XuhOkZGA2K5BZBOAFfATfEpTKJloDTDA9F3m47o9VLLrNL4C3hn0zeYcE3MpiFDm9f2VW-SCJY63j9Wi6R0dwS2BPev9yE/s1600/IMG_1096.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg3lWPSWgj-ARYIaKDwGnfm_zChaqYeGF4fgw-irl3WFnnx2XuhOkZGA2K5BZBOAFfATfEpTKJloDTDA9F3m47o9VLLrNL4C3hn0zeYcE3MpiFDm9f2VW-SCJY63j9Wi6R0dwS2BPev9yE/s320/IMG_1096.jpg" width="240" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">And baby gets bathed.</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhJMClaAG4CEcrnYbwOydXfpi5isSJR5T-kNk9qhsmxq_ALruHVTE20E541oRY8y-HH07dY7bb8pocn5ZeSUyhEF90HYqF2fAr3jAP-THKRORnOYdX8huNJJuhWIs9jNx4KNFaiKoauTXA/s1600/IMG_1100.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhJMClaAG4CEcrnYbwOydXfpi5isSJR5T-kNk9qhsmxq_ALruHVTE20E541oRY8y-HH07dY7bb8pocn5ZeSUyhEF90HYqF2fAr3jAP-THKRORnOYdX8huNJJuhWIs9jNx4KNFaiKoauTXA/s320/IMG_1100.jpg" width="240" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">When the kid is all clean, they pass her off to Pops. And I try not to cry at the sheer joy I'm feeling.</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhLRtwfh59Zcb-_sHFExl-lvFLDafnK514_1u_V1szLhjWhtD3VTdiPkFjPjPj7Cmu4eatxoW3PiKr-eXSZvCavqix95iigdLIKIYUbpb0_SCXCygy8hD5yOUYDdjKE8rL5S8dJpJJqkQs/s1600/IMG_1107.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhLRtwfh59Zcb-_sHFExl-lvFLDafnK514_1u_V1szLhjWhtD3VTdiPkFjPjPj7Cmu4eatxoW3PiKr-eXSZvCavqix95iigdLIKIYUbpb0_SCXCygy8hD5yOUYDdjKE8rL5S8dJpJJqkQs/s320/IMG_1107.jpg" width="240" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">And you look like hell by the end of the day but you're so fucking happy it doesn't matter. You take the stupid iPod picture anyway.</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEit5mSGPeNJTEu87BK9vEM6W11LQWFhYOne0c85C69Hn5rZGxqn9MkC6RS5Jl9gHzIrpkUqG-vJhnrWkCVt5Ztlm2dwZDdFXtznhVQMR2oFiUGKMDdb5XBe8AE8_M3RNEmW_UIXL65qkew/s1600/IMG_1111.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEit5mSGPeNJTEu87BK9vEM6W11LQWFhYOne0c85C69Hn5rZGxqn9MkC6RS5Jl9gHzIrpkUqG-vJhnrWkCVt5Ztlm2dwZDdFXtznhVQMR2oFiUGKMDdb5XBe8AE8_M3RNEmW_UIXL65qkew/s320/IMG_1111.JPG" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Pops has no qualms with diaper changes. Even Black Tar Shit ones. </td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiPFw9oIcJ2pA2FdUmAOWhyKI2JrOMsXl6Kdt9jPaS_iDJ1I5Vc-hkRg5YukmpSK36HBqaBnchIH68OHvJc7neICzvY3Cu_uwE1t-C61_uAFzEvLB6H6CE2mRhVpdN08J_25JeUKLKvzsU/s1600/IMG_1146.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiPFw9oIcJ2pA2FdUmAOWhyKI2JrOMsXl6Kdt9jPaS_iDJ1I5Vc-hkRg5YukmpSK36HBqaBnchIH68OHvJc7neICzvY3Cu_uwE1t-C61_uAFzEvLB6H6CE2mRhVpdN08J_25JeUKLKvzsU/s320/IMG_1146.JPG" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">M comes the next day to meet her sister. And the Angels sing a Hallelujah Chorus and you can't believe how beautiful your two girls are together. </td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhV9yJi7VE8BPeNqh5-xhGWX1r1YGkRF4nSuYqrku3iCIlAth99hiuRnvCJzw57_sFaGjQhAHjy1_lBOrx5Wro9bBtAlvTRKudNh8hyphenhyphennYqtiyCgeuAVdlXT9i9DljDqjiBNSB-bjOOx1wU/s1600/IMG_1115.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhV9yJi7VE8BPeNqh5-xhGWX1r1YGkRF4nSuYqrku3iCIlAth99hiuRnvCJzw57_sFaGjQhAHjy1_lBOrx5Wro9bBtAlvTRKudNh8hyphenhyphennYqtiyCgeuAVdlXT9i9DljDqjiBNSB-bjOOx1wU/s320/IMG_1115.JPG" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">And M of course wants snuggles.</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEidkZ7wHuj0PnFrjy4z2NlNNC91C_p6K8hGW-AjJdl_v12b8L-h8bKZa_f63mLM-sJBTLS-vBtjKyXFoKNGSLXQGBO9cSsZLyKWsJTHX9JE_f9RH4b7HwDKS8IoJHbj2CvRz4NEB3D-K5A/s1600/IMG_1127.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEidkZ7wHuj0PnFrjy4z2NlNNC91C_p6K8hGW-AjJdl_v12b8L-h8bKZa_f63mLM-sJBTLS-vBtjKyXFoKNGSLXQGBO9cSsZLyKWsJTHX9JE_f9RH4b7HwDKS8IoJHbj2CvRz4NEB3D-K5A/s320/IMG_1127.jpg" width="240" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">This kid is a chunk. Serious business going on in those cheeks. </td></tr>
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<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEijW9LC4uQhDhD1sFdwlIYHaDfrgdqlt94RV6s21I4opv553A1MHRMH6mgS9G5P0-Skrv9-ZWj_stt3jA89uXcVLYA_LXXM2vx9922r5n9LRMLjuGOLdKaHAt0u938_CdIRDG1L0b6zNyE/s1600/IMG_1129.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEijW9LC4uQhDhD1sFdwlIYHaDfrgdqlt94RV6s21I4opv553A1MHRMH6mgS9G5P0-Skrv9-ZWj_stt3jA89uXcVLYA_LXXM2vx9922r5n9LRMLjuGOLdKaHAt0u938_CdIRDG1L0b6zNyE/s320/IMG_1129.jpg" width="240" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">And Pops is still head-over-heels... watching him with our kids kind of blows my mind.</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjsyJpF10thJbHUVE1_kNsb1iXn6e78tww5bzoaBEMvwaWvdFYgZeTW2Bza0biGnarDtIYpmfubwqJdGx8Y3TKA1_W0o66zekmUNZwzrt2guRYkzIUnFtGil0ZrjwLxJID-4sPBn5cH-Ns/s1600/IMG_1218.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjsyJpF10thJbHUVE1_kNsb1iXn6e78tww5bzoaBEMvwaWvdFYgZeTW2Bza0biGnarDtIYpmfubwqJdGx8Y3TKA1_W0o66zekmUNZwzrt2guRYkzIUnFtGil0ZrjwLxJID-4sPBn5cH-Ns/s320/IMG_1218.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">of course there's plenty of time for silliness at home while L is nursing. </td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgEP6NzXkpkPZdKFP17bDqdjiG0V5nJ7smAJG944LQpGpOoa9OoijlNUKdd8qqL_tjrxN4ebKvGoVvLUKy68LxJDM9Z5DRlrMGewot9WQ2COPu-ywUzz9PcDIxZ1C6iozt3u3d8gDna8qk/s1600/IMG_1142.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgEP6NzXkpkPZdKFP17bDqdjiG0V5nJ7smAJG944LQpGpOoa9OoijlNUKdd8qqL_tjrxN4ebKvGoVvLUKy68LxJDM9Z5DRlrMGewot9WQ2COPu-ywUzz9PcDIxZ1C6iozt3u3d8gDna8qk/s320/IMG_1142.JPG" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">This is The Mobile. Pops made it and glued it all together. Because what little girl's bassinet could be complete without a Death Star?</td></tr>
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<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhmYqHtg-_exjcwNagX2fNA0OzZHFWaw572QgtASkdiHhKnWnKyjaDdcHH-xjtZOWgGjHDUK7i992yypD0W5Hqn1R7g-S3pCn1mMvIArXMGxheIe73pO4-qVg8gWomqbmZ9lNCl_LxJx-E/s1600/IMG_1150.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhmYqHtg-_exjcwNagX2fNA0OzZHFWaw572QgtASkdiHhKnWnKyjaDdcHH-xjtZOWgGjHDUK7i992yypD0W5Hqn1R7g-S3pCn1mMvIArXMGxheIe73pO4-qVg8gWomqbmZ9lNCl_LxJx-E/s320/IMG_1150.JPG" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">She's already not interested. </td></tr>
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<table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: left; margin-right: 1em; text-align: left;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhfnHaGHYsX8-j54bsyY4_X9VaSlQS4nVeRBJ-ML61GKmq_1qEiBSDJzWGOFcwMu1gc73dtR_gpwuCjt-hkBvpUaowQDfvHNAaPMi5isbJOrHRUPDlsewwMzBb1N_TzhzKmoJdWS2DMzR8/s1600/IMG_1154.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhfnHaGHYsX8-j54bsyY4_X9VaSlQS4nVeRBJ-ML61GKmq_1qEiBSDJzWGOFcwMu1gc73dtR_gpwuCjt-hkBvpUaowQDfvHNAaPMi5isbJOrHRUPDlsewwMzBb1N_TzhzKmoJdWS2DMzR8/s320/IMG_1154.jpg" width="240" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">All photos of the first bath include screaming and awfulness.<br />
Note the tear in her eye.</td></tr>
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<table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: right; margin-left: 1em; text-align: right;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjKWlFHEDLVi0UpxhUXKmRVXavEEntk3D4lr1kDI4V1W4LfbwDXXBE3_tTLLlaIsx8Ao0Tj3aq-yRxRSaNYcL7t4OFGIIbqeYDiHqcwhzBiDyHjh6_-XTYjtr3x-GjiVbJDksvsZgNDlW4/s1600/IMG_1158.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjKWlFHEDLVi0UpxhUXKmRVXavEEntk3D4lr1kDI4V1W4LfbwDXXBE3_tTLLlaIsx8Ao0Tj3aq-yRxRSaNYcL7t4OFGIIbqeYDiHqcwhzBiDyHjh6_-XTYjtr3x-GjiVbJDksvsZgNDlW4/s320/IMG_1158.jpg" width="240" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">So - we have post-bath adorableness.</td></tr>
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<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjHo-1KlwE8ckpRYcbUTFIyxeRKKULUtebwVUEG30yKa7xGgKzHQoZioYcauXe5V5wIFjONi3uVtUjuOFgFNgdG-0wa-keuwVFvkrZ_3UCxAQnn4KHSLEr42H-j1di9v0ygK0bWDfiMCPU/s1600/IMG_1163.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjHo-1KlwE8ckpRYcbUTFIyxeRKKULUtebwVUEG30yKa7xGgKzHQoZioYcauXe5V5wIFjONi3uVtUjuOFgFNgdG-0wa-keuwVFvkrZ_3UCxAQnn4KHSLEr42H-j1di9v0ygK0bWDfiMCPU/s320/IMG_1163.jpg" width="240" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">First time alone at home with Lu. She dug the <a href="http://www.amazon.com/Baby-Ktan-Carrier-Black-Small/dp/B000UYFULU/ref=cm_cr_pr_product_top">Baby K'Tan</a>. </td></tr>
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<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh9lTLMRtmxWTNVJYS0UHljJeQwDVlQBBSHYQYtLQVfG-dGbiM8rZ4glNNF0F6pzIbo5wLBhHLhCk0P2ZDAhhO-3QPLP8FUvG11WIYsLOObCRhIOFfk9hhZrvz0B-k4FVcOn1yxpIQdFy8/s1600/IMG_1165.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh9lTLMRtmxWTNVJYS0UHljJeQwDVlQBBSHYQYtLQVfG-dGbiM8rZ4glNNF0F6pzIbo5wLBhHLhCk0P2ZDAhhO-3QPLP8FUvG11WIYsLOObCRhIOFfk9hhZrvz0B-k4FVcOn1yxpIQdFy8/s320/IMG_1165.JPG" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://www.target.com/p/aden-anais-for-target-zooaroo-swaddle-wraps-4pk-gender-neutral/-/A-11219328#?lnk=sc_qi_detaillink">Most amazing swaddle blankets ever</a>. </td></tr>
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<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh-uZZ3a8GBQc1VUSPKtptPoPt1oaHQtWaoWcjcX_eKGjUhZfL85JhKvdQXrogn8z_NO-JA7fDVC92-k-pzGLSlwtMYU69SpPIzXwP0DGa9wVlmDbPJUhHcRfxAPmXp_L7UrmD5_4EYLaQ/s1600/IMG_1180.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh-uZZ3a8GBQc1VUSPKtptPoPt1oaHQtWaoWcjcX_eKGjUhZfL85JhKvdQXrogn8z_NO-JA7fDVC92-k-pzGLSlwtMYU69SpPIzXwP0DGa9wVlmDbPJUhHcRfxAPmXp_L7UrmD5_4EYLaQ/s320/IMG_1180.jpg" width="240" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Talking to Grams. Because Grams is the best. </td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhINVMVi9slJX3lJes_xrmMLNBVNfGw9thIfh4qsThS7pYDuB1LiWTT9l8a_OJbgjG2TOaEHfeN_euM-SNfO2WwXuXolnzAvbkKziM0bnQhGSx9_MCFwg6e9jBYh5wgWb3yVieebP5JVdE/s1600/IMG_1206.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhINVMVi9slJX3lJes_xrmMLNBVNfGw9thIfh4qsThS7pYDuB1LiWTT9l8a_OJbgjG2TOaEHfeN_euM-SNfO2WwXuXolnzAvbkKziM0bnQhGSx9_MCFwg6e9jBYh5wgWb3yVieebP5JVdE/s320/IMG_1206.JPG" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Bed buddies. We co-sleep. And I dream of a king size bed.</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg6ttD1W5kmC0109BcSI80ycWH7HrtmTrvC91A9f-YSUOCnOu95piHj1xZLG45u80ZGsaCtJ7pi-VDND0nwbX_JojvnH858RmnzgtSuEtcWfawIAe3eF9-YdtcweEVLnTMF4mb0rSwVWnI/s1600/IMG_1201.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg6ttD1W5kmC0109BcSI80ycWH7HrtmTrvC91A9f-YSUOCnOu95piHj1xZLG45u80ZGsaCtJ7pi-VDND0nwbX_JojvnH858RmnzgtSuEtcWfawIAe3eF9-YdtcweEVLnTMF4mb0rSwVWnI/s320/IMG_1201.jpg" width="240" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Probably pooping.</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEisJHk8xhTv5l6eajUrdH1TI4YrZ0lk6fbE0fMePnurTI2w4KIlPfRdcY5rJcKp4vrmwYiyrcl8bHYk5qlBeQFDNrJgDn7KHgI4oeYlPqPCdZt6wJku-exhyyDcVi4RbdRjUQR_-z2bhbY/s1600/IMG_1193.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEisJHk8xhTv5l6eajUrdH1TI4YrZ0lk6fbE0fMePnurTI2w4KIlPfRdcY5rJcKp4vrmwYiyrcl8bHYk5qlBeQFDNrJgDn7KHgI4oeYlPqPCdZt6wJku-exhyyDcVi4RbdRjUQR_-z2bhbY/s320/IMG_1193.jpg" width="240" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Milk Drunk.</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
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<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi5IhUjlgZ2Qn_QcPfw1OBpxBYZt3Beyuue3jq9agosdBDclQ9yZPV2UZLfon_UhNNpqkpGB7w_DckjjjVryEMB10C1I1Qnxwa9LMKsnxRQgWqRFQKPOZ8UofLESOttXJQFzBguuEUaD5A/s1600/IMG_1224.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi5IhUjlgZ2Qn_QcPfw1OBpxBYZt3Beyuue3jq9agosdBDclQ9yZPV2UZLfon_UhNNpqkpGB7w_DckjjjVryEMB10C1I1Qnxwa9LMKsnxRQgWqRFQKPOZ8UofLESOttXJQFzBguuEUaD5A/s320/IMG_1224.jpg" width="240" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Chickadee</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjk-9h3ppjneK1a2qiZWDQbOg_AHdV33BSBmb-K1Yo0_PzBvaeP-gP29EChVxdS0eUSWVbqe4A4bmzPbK4MNM1WeF9rIPID6TUzENAChysHH9v4Elpi5-vVVuQ7MByvjEnpq6_MzTON-8w/s1600/IMG_0130.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjk-9h3ppjneK1a2qiZWDQbOg_AHdV33BSBmb-K1Yo0_PzBvaeP-gP29EChVxdS0eUSWVbqe4A4bmzPbK4MNM1WeF9rIPID6TUzENAChysHH9v4Elpi5-vVVuQ7MByvjEnpq6_MzTON-8w/s320/IMG_0130.jpg" width="239" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">CHEEEEEEKKKKKKSSSS</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
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<table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: left; margin-right: 1em; text-align: left;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhvbhhZkGzsT88FhfNZlc0IcUWSrV27RB5LVXQyaRiFsSkvlzP_KquasygKE4GojyuVA9DmTCUi4JRT4yANL0Vgi7JDAIhEBJabuMmP1X_OcZZg_O12cz-AhUENct4_9eZ6C1PxTSHR3BM/s1600/IMG_0101.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhvbhhZkGzsT88FhfNZlc0IcUWSrV27RB5LVXQyaRiFsSkvlzP_KquasygKE4GojyuVA9DmTCUi4JRT4yANL0Vgi7JDAIhEBJabuMmP1X_OcZZg_O12cz-AhUENct4_9eZ6C1PxTSHR3BM/s320/IMG_0101.jpg" width="239" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">She really doesn't dig getting woken up. </td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiH6TGsbMIMgjFI2rSiv8vbtMajwtgeUddixj5Ni5IR6uzbv__MN8cevb2sfF8dnXzXE9VtQzXQ485yPii_hKI4VFrk774kfDldtUQsXSpRLkHmUuMZ9H40TvZ1YCgLLhTRKOSoF5mpl80/s1600/IMG_0098.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiH6TGsbMIMgjFI2rSiv8vbtMajwtgeUddixj5Ni5IR6uzbv__MN8cevb2sfF8dnXzXE9VtQzXQ485yPii_hKI4VFrk774kfDldtUQsXSpRLkHmUuMZ9H40TvZ1YCgLLhTRKOSoF5mpl80/s320/IMG_0098.jpg" width="239" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">And she voices her opinion on the matter with this look.</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
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<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgGVREtpDCkJ463FoSJaOT2uKJmp_nNAUJ-xGumMTyuyTawObBUS_d_flg32kpdsNY1pSB-qJe7XJkLMufbKdNtxKQmKKlFkD3rYhkgvSuEdERbvhTLHkUWAhHLgF0-g2ZL2xTp8rITrwM/s1600/IMG_0093.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgGVREtpDCkJ463FoSJaOT2uKJmp_nNAUJ-xGumMTyuyTawObBUS_d_flg32kpdsNY1pSB-qJe7XJkLMufbKdNtxKQmKKlFkD3rYhkgvSuEdERbvhTLHkUWAhHLgF0-g2ZL2xTp8rITrwM/s320/IMG_0093.JPG" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">More post-bath awesomeness in a brand new robe from Grams.</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
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<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhR-n9K-mfwOLn3Yhylq5hwGc29EJu6U1q-JlPvk7qzELRdJGguNH99uPhjOPmdORs5llTQkJVDl8xrBgqEbw0ywOfZIElL3cSKwmbmMngqFViJ7YsCdJNCnPeIGkijP-EO06o5NyUaFX4/s1600/IMG_0081.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhR-n9K-mfwOLn3Yhylq5hwGc29EJu6U1q-JlPvk7qzELRdJGguNH99uPhjOPmdORs5llTQkJVDl8xrBgqEbw0ywOfZIElL3cSKwmbmMngqFViJ7YsCdJNCnPeIGkijP-EO06o5NyUaFX4/s320/IMG_0081.JPG" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">And they say newborns don't smile. What a load of crap.</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhG5tsSMpML26GhXKfx_mTxpwneBCpwjXSVWERY2uGzsxqmtxqdTJXKCb4VBe8OOmpjzqTpmGkSbWSx56D4eoj0GQCfTfVowLVMC3gfFkAZbVb21lUgVC55W_a5Q816RDi6D41ug0eju4Q/s1600/IMG_0029.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhG5tsSMpML26GhXKfx_mTxpwneBCpwjXSVWERY2uGzsxqmtxqdTJXKCb4VBe8OOmpjzqTpmGkSbWSx56D4eoj0GQCfTfVowLVMC3gfFkAZbVb21lUgVC55W_a5Q816RDi6D41ug0eju4Q/s320/IMG_0029.JPG" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Seriously. How is this not a smile?</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhLsFEy4eZI2rGsdJxywTyckpL8qICOEKFOfZuGlHj1cQn8PXvuPtWw3jPU3uM_sV8zM2I4dgsY0vMmBei12mLluYl4p2b_QeJh7gNY9dYsYIM8MlLJeKQG6NgjKF9X78mTAVZA5OghO8s/s1600/IMG_0119.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhLsFEy4eZI2rGsdJxywTyckpL8qICOEKFOfZuGlHj1cQn8PXvuPtWw3jPU3uM_sV8zM2I4dgsY0vMmBei12mLluYl4p2b_QeJh7gNY9dYsYIM8MlLJeKQG6NgjKF9X78mTAVZA5OghO8s/s320/IMG_0119.jpg" width="239" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">More cheeks and grins.</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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<table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="clear: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg9cgeB3r6O_B6j3EkNQFEr8U-qq20dWhn9i2J86GwDx8WcPCh_bgBPTUeZeYhXpz1rq4x0IOUyf6OdW4ELDSwblxyqeT_2SUTXU0kX4sKucW1yfn9dcPybxJU9dz07agqVGRljyVwrMM0/s1600/IMG_0140.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg9cgeB3r6O_B6j3EkNQFEr8U-qq20dWhn9i2J86GwDx8WcPCh_bgBPTUeZeYhXpz1rq4x0IOUyf6OdW4ELDSwblxyqeT_2SUTXU0kX4sKucW1yfn9dcPybxJU9dz07agqVGRljyVwrMM0/s320/IMG_0140.JPG" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">And Pops dressed her. </td></tr>
</tbody></table>
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<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj0FLzjdXf2OaFjQsQKEDMyemUAdtTZRexcp1yXsypzquui3u0MagowzbfQtSiLWz3B1vncajPOhH8MUtD5UU2G2XzY215mZvPDRBG1tNm243Ez-ZoD5VPWPhiCeY6KnkP9eKoJ799y4HA/s1600/IMG_0152.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj0FLzjdXf2OaFjQsQKEDMyemUAdtTZRexcp1yXsypzquui3u0MagowzbfQtSiLWz3B1vncajPOhH8MUtD5UU2G2XzY215mZvPDRBG1tNm243Ez-ZoD5VPWPhiCeY6KnkP9eKoJ799y4HA/s320/IMG_0152.JPG" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">More hanging out in the K'Tan. She likes her head to poke out if she's awake. </td></tr>
</tbody></table>
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<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgAdHldmPQW3BhBcd5TvsZIDZIwtuug04BJPtM59nExzWVHmQU4JV8Ly5HwqAkygkbRg_cwNWJWU4rYMz704X-heYa8nJZNo6jEQVKllHGqZBPCnm5c64Gs7s_opYgo-lbI4G8rZvGp6pg/s1600/IMG_0067.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgAdHldmPQW3BhBcd5TvsZIDZIwtuug04BJPtM59nExzWVHmQU4JV8Ly5HwqAkygkbRg_cwNWJWU4rYMz704X-heYa8nJZNo6jEQVKllHGqZBPCnm5c64Gs7s_opYgo-lbI4G8rZvGp6pg/s320/IMG_0067.JPG" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Faux-Hawk</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjzL4dfOKz6BumZSX6jb0pRSsULysqTEYWBfSAyNSyROnwjhu-R_weGhBP124LRuUmqDxkmt3JtT3Xo0KtR6pQR8fMhAVXmlEDY-IscGlcxTkjW9nDqCx72xxk233K1KjjcwYNs8nZ_TVk/s1600/IMG_0124.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjzL4dfOKz6BumZSX6jb0pRSsULysqTEYWBfSAyNSyROnwjhu-R_weGhBP124LRuUmqDxkmt3JtT3Xo0KtR6pQR8fMhAVXmlEDY-IscGlcxTkjW9nDqCx72xxk233K1KjjcwYNs8nZ_TVk/s320/IMG_0124.jpg" width="239" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">A month of no work makes for a month without shaving and haircuts. He did break down and shave the beard before the month was up. He said it was itchy. I agreed. </td></tr>
</tbody></table>
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<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiyqBApmjoPThoQflzY9AiSEd1OGlZCMN3696l0WlAvYI1_fQIxezphxKkEIYH3sUSjoTgDHu8jTpiN0zhf5BWnRDkPyAuaqYJUI0GuasersYfKO3DpFOArLkT7SPdjbwYNB_0ayRDjG8Y/s1600/IMG_0061.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiyqBApmjoPThoQflzY9AiSEd1OGlZCMN3696l0WlAvYI1_fQIxezphxKkEIYH3sUSjoTgDHu8jTpiN0zhf5BWnRDkPyAuaqYJUI0GuasersYfKO3DpFOArLkT7SPdjbwYNB_0ayRDjG8Y/s320/IMG_0061.JPG" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">She sleeps. A lot. Just not at night. </td></tr>
</tbody></table>
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<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhstWewvZOPvQNDaOmWKdCJC8M1E4PUmF725PYBCnc8cZnHXlAf0SnQ5MR8fJFUd46srxjgMoY2JK4AXwKNy7VTG3Axxxh3_ftTFw3oep7zMgysiCCxK_huL4RdYicq8UopaZsugLH03Zo/s1600/IMG_0057.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhstWewvZOPvQNDaOmWKdCJC8M1E4PUmF725PYBCnc8cZnHXlAf0SnQ5MR8fJFUd46srxjgMoY2JK4AXwKNy7VTG3Axxxh3_ftTFw3oep7zMgysiCCxK_huL4RdYicq8UopaZsugLH03Zo/s320/IMG_0057.JPG" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">M and L make a pretty cute couple. </td></tr>
</tbody></table>
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<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgdr6FuTGmcNrCj90kYTwlwNthPrvLuOIf1SR9WXE5Kge_UgcD_zwhRXE8iCWpaAPfCwwtYLJ9WIC7jkh6168UmQ6L_3DgBUdYOU2L30q5fo4WoC2NwjDrMtEC6OSiuH9b5vDK3KmIBuK0/s1600/IMG_0035.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgdr6FuTGmcNrCj90kYTwlwNthPrvLuOIf1SR9WXE5Kge_UgcD_zwhRXE8iCWpaAPfCwwtYLJ9WIC7jkh6168UmQ6L_3DgBUdYOU2L30q5fo4WoC2NwjDrMtEC6OSiuH9b5vDK3KmIBuK0/s320/IMG_0035.jpg" width="239" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">The kid did inherit my squinty left eye though. I think it's kind of adorable. </td></tr>
</tbody></table>
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<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj6l6K0EPzAHhvuCGDneZ7vvrRYMdrcS5DxnjMNB1pdy3p_oAKOXUHUC7cfExaJ2qOsJKJAdEVopxaRdiQUjTX7Rj-HSi_WNiUxxtob94OHgt91kZexjOfJf2smnKo-ZYDj3M59hzJyP1M/s1600/IMG_0026.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj6l6K0EPzAHhvuCGDneZ7vvrRYMdrcS5DxnjMNB1pdy3p_oAKOXUHUC7cfExaJ2qOsJKJAdEVopxaRdiQUjTX7Rj-HSi_WNiUxxtob94OHgt91kZexjOfJf2smnKo-ZYDj3M59hzJyP1M/s320/IMG_0026.JPG" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">I love hanging out with the little punkin head. </td></tr>
</tbody></table>
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<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEix0VzVkaG5dajUdxqdNRkBJrU16ggJrDbNYwQGDyR0HOxKFB1OnILtaIg33-SjTnMm4ML_GbQIXCeluYdHNi_HwCe05yLMlA7nvLNu5lz0wN7pGdlyhI9gQP57wNdUlF8ShGuDaWxqwIs/s1600/IMG_0025.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEix0VzVkaG5dajUdxqdNRkBJrU16ggJrDbNYwQGDyR0HOxKFB1OnILtaIg33-SjTnMm4ML_GbQIXCeluYdHNi_HwCe05yLMlA7nvLNu5lz0wN7pGdlyhI9gQP57wNdUlF8ShGuDaWxqwIs/s320/IMG_0025.JPG" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">And somehow, over night my daughter became a big girl... </td></tr>
</tbody></table>
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<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiBILRmgvXxE9NXLELxT2plZoWY9sZF6HKlQVlC39C8iX-ntvQJjQo4ht_kponOUd398fj8-jmqQoJHTh6zuMzQIQZIp5gowPzbUQUHVbwFYx85cSzvT6JtucXlZCsoBYoZJOBhthBbuWg/s1600/IMG_0019.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiBILRmgvXxE9NXLELxT2plZoWY9sZF6HKlQVlC39C8iX-ntvQJjQo4ht_kponOUd398fj8-jmqQoJHTh6zuMzQIQZIp5gowPzbUQUHVbwFYx85cSzvT6JtucXlZCsoBYoZJOBhthBbuWg/s320/IMG_0019.jpg" width="239" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">And yes, in the mornings our bed becomes the hang-out spot. </td></tr>
</tbody></table>
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh28aEbjATvdII9GrwSQ_6TekGwWi4UFPlIqRHEjjQs7iKdYqfwK7fWJlZPEfuuvRaLSOHmuwbR2bsziE0-JaO05io7F8G-Be7BCDpyft_u-zGkDh9Snm_9xqbUP1qIQzHpzrXUFhZ4_to/s1600/IMG_0006.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh28aEbjATvdII9GrwSQ_6TekGwWi4UFPlIqRHEjjQs7iKdYqfwK7fWJlZPEfuuvRaLSOHmuwbR2bsziE0-JaO05io7F8G-Be7BCDpyft_u-zGkDh9Snm_9xqbUP1qIQzHpzrXUFhZ4_to/s320/IMG_0006.jpg" width="239" /></a><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhgR-b7v2uN0lHsWqE6vLzzzPqZS7yX0o2jz7V_bdu3afRJntR1T7lhpIm9E1e65uRNBnmg6LmIgne0eyW1AaYtp92D2FtzDy6HwFftcYc0YtwNm_1JeEeLAgz4pJQU5zTZUHgy85Nbwdg/s1600/IMG_0008.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhgR-b7v2uN0lHsWqE6vLzzzPqZS7yX0o2jz7V_bdu3afRJntR1T7lhpIm9E1e65uRNBnmg6LmIgne0eyW1AaYtp92D2FtzDy6HwFftcYc0YtwNm_1JeEeLAgz4pJQU5zTZUHgy85Nbwdg/s320/IMG_0008.jpg" width="239" /></a></div>
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<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiKOQHJANQTPwIErJNoLkP9Ibp9f7DmZPWFfz-XpRk4yG4ECbkunZUgzgwtbDaplRz3oUWH_Kg80oiIkz7H6MbTYgIALKz1R5Ywsom4F3hPAXkegq85NIIIx4LRc3Dz1Rj-DiJWCpoRUGQ/s1600/IMG_0262.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiKOQHJANQTPwIErJNoLkP9Ibp9f7DmZPWFfz-XpRk4yG4ECbkunZUgzgwtbDaplRz3oUWH_Kg80oiIkz7H6MbTYgIALKz1R5Ywsom4F3hPAXkegq85NIIIx4LRc3Dz1Rj-DiJWCpoRUGQ/s320/IMG_0262.jpg" width="239" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">I'm in love with this bib someone got us. it says "Little Fox"</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
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<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiZRTBkPH6fLZ4azwn5PJrzXnAJiIGSAqCVHJS42MXQd3ooJoOJ8cY-xJT1aEW0EqNmFYrTVG9Rsy0j6vAzer-WQvg9ucZe8vk3UyHN5hPZSX_ypxrXbS6vF2X_pPZq9BMjkCXtIzKiFpo/s1600/IMG_0254.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiZRTBkPH6fLZ4azwn5PJrzXnAJiIGSAqCVHJS42MXQd3ooJoOJ8cY-xJT1aEW0EqNmFYrTVG9Rsy0j6vAzer-WQvg9ucZe8vk3UyHN5hPZSX_ypxrXbS6vF2X_pPZq9BMjkCXtIzKiFpo/s320/IMG_0254.JPG" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Serious portrait.</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgE6RV6K0PjGscoB9-C3lT3vEMc4stzySI1TatmoxKdoACCsCXwKmvrOgJC0t5g7KheTKbJeAZkAeAdk6Qf2-JQ17zOyX1dkjNj3IM1zd34xrlVMwnBqBib7BAWyNQddGD7fG0xadUyVJs/s1600/IMG_0253.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgE6RV6K0PjGscoB9-C3lT3vEMc4stzySI1TatmoxKdoACCsCXwKmvrOgJC0t5g7KheTKbJeAZkAeAdk6Qf2-JQ17zOyX1dkjNj3IM1zd34xrlVMwnBqBib7BAWyNQddGD7fG0xadUyVJs/s320/IMG_0253.JPG" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">And a more accurate representation of the people I live with.</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
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<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj409r0sQ-Au-8Lo545FneIomdHuVfzulnrgeHvqnfDdWhNfDLYQHh2YmL3szwib3drBZRMLeLJ_UfMHk0ySQw9dE3os7m_iqFd06ftwEaLF2d6g7Y6qQh3DxHPBG86s2sALCPJ0UMuiOk/s1600/IMG_0252.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj409r0sQ-Au-8Lo545FneIomdHuVfzulnrgeHvqnfDdWhNfDLYQHh2YmL3szwib3drBZRMLeLJ_UfMHk0ySQw9dE3os7m_iqFd06ftwEaLF2d6g7Y6qQh3DxHPBG86s2sALCPJ0UMuiOk/s320/IMG_0252.jpg" width="239" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">And I still catch him looking at both girls like it's the first time he ever saw them. </td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjqJwTEXvKyGTnGQ1X4-wHR-XISdXtIIk_HAb8Cbzo0IeOZV2GGAAD2jshAba8OQfrdAExcc7ILY9_rnvW4_U427XF3_qH9qAQ6RHDrYaFZULOCmIyBfFELKrI5ATSQXV43tgOALXIrjPw/s1600/IMG_0177.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjqJwTEXvKyGTnGQ1X4-wHR-XISdXtIIk_HAb8Cbzo0IeOZV2GGAAD2jshAba8OQfrdAExcc7ILY9_rnvW4_U427XF3_qH9qAQ6RHDrYaFZULOCmIyBfFELKrI5ATSQXV43tgOALXIrjPw/s320/IMG_0177.JPG" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">My baby is gorgeous. Don't try to deny it.</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
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<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi2P80mF-QT4HVtKWWPE6rKasrNB6tQ77Kk-8L65Ow3tuXq6HomZu-T0um3d6XGr2fIOVQN5IDTjnXMi395wTChUzulQ9Fiy3RHtXvQRB5JIuRuboeyyT-Ifv1pmtZ_4V41ihtnsprEnds/s1600/IMG_0180.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi2P80mF-QT4HVtKWWPE6rKasrNB6tQ77Kk-8L65Ow3tuXq6HomZu-T0um3d6XGr2fIOVQN5IDTjnXMi395wTChUzulQ9Fiy3RHtXvQRB5JIuRuboeyyT-Ifv1pmtZ_4V41ihtnsprEnds/s320/IMG_0180.jpg" width="239" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">My girls. </td></tr>
</tbody></table>
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<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjehe6kN5ehUJT-mJbQ6xfffbTwJRB_A5zkyrcgfZyu7OlHWd6Gpx4XD3g1paeq8xKSeogNiVjTicYeHtRlDl_URFXjv5fl94Kjfl-GvW-MpfwcNF8VXhI0BbDx_ffY95BzTiFweX8ARzs/s1600/IMG_0190.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="239" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjehe6kN5ehUJT-mJbQ6xfffbTwJRB_A5zkyrcgfZyu7OlHWd6Gpx4XD3g1paeq8xKSeogNiVjTicYeHtRlDl_URFXjv5fl94Kjfl-GvW-MpfwcNF8VXhI0BbDx_ffY95BzTiFweX8ARzs/s320/IMG_0190.JPG" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Just Arrived.</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
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<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgVrQaf8Dy5TJHuQDxnYtblsR06Gn2Y4jTydoGetkx4JSUYzX72y4DOi9wc3NJGv8-M7fs9R4lkr_Zd4qE-zZe2Tn2_5kfph_0dE7leLU0xdpHpAqSZ0eP7BD0ADFL_EcwoK5WNBX7Ej5w/s1600/IMG_0203.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgVrQaf8Dy5TJHuQDxnYtblsR06Gn2Y4jTydoGetkx4JSUYzX72y4DOi9wc3NJGv8-M7fs9R4lkr_Zd4qE-zZe2Tn2_5kfph_0dE7leLU0xdpHpAqSZ0eP7BD0ADFL_EcwoK5WNBX7Ej5w/s320/IMG_0203.JPG" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">M's onesie on L... Because Bob Marley is the shit. </td></tr>
</tbody></table>
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<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiEmM4dJz3nWQ-lZj1uLbxfu2whjJrmBql3kePyA7ubRqvLfpVxdu14RRJKWtgP_CkWse3dQlSwXERdg-dCQlZ0S9tbCAR_qZ1CUpYjct6GRYleQ1UjgH-QcKZT21JuCGOM_gW8I5n8sPk/s1600/IMG_0205.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiEmM4dJz3nWQ-lZj1uLbxfu2whjJrmBql3kePyA7ubRqvLfpVxdu14RRJKWtgP_CkWse3dQlSwXERdg-dCQlZ0S9tbCAR_qZ1CUpYjct6GRYleQ1UjgH-QcKZT21JuCGOM_gW8I5n8sPk/s320/IMG_0205.jpg" width="239" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Watching Avatar: The Last Airbender... because M is obsessed with that show. </td></tr>
</tbody></table>
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<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhsQtJaUu9mKn3nZOB_oCWQJ6x_9mDA0C6EjiKFaMJfDZAHl7FHNseiX_WKYFMLF83jXHtdiYTJCf4V4pZNCxqDqWdBMXKi8GbajQLmz51KJaPigc2JT4S6-Kq8EbOKDohDRLYVrfuyzUE/s1600/IMG_0235.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhsQtJaUu9mKn3nZOB_oCWQJ6x_9mDA0C6EjiKFaMJfDZAHl7FHNseiX_WKYFMLF83jXHtdiYTJCf4V4pZNCxqDqWdBMXKi8GbajQLmz51KJaPigc2JT4S6-Kq8EbOKDohDRLYVrfuyzUE/s320/IMG_0235.jpg" width="239" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">More snuggle time for the sisters. </td></tr>
</tbody></table>
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<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjEcx1Wv9_6c7u_gCGn4Mhw1AYC416M8EnQBnYM2DOvodD4XMT7F6AUDv5ZSPlSsQp74-UL7iJqB7LNgGKe7V3MVDZ_IqZ0FsIk3Z1JSP9Ra9aiiaO0iulfdEYlhQcc9bUzwUdLWI_DdZ8/s1600/IMG_0233.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjEcx1Wv9_6c7u_gCGn4Mhw1AYC416M8EnQBnYM2DOvodD4XMT7F6AUDv5ZSPlSsQp74-UL7iJqB7LNgGKe7V3MVDZ_IqZ0FsIk3Z1JSP9Ra9aiiaO0iulfdEYlhQcc9bUzwUdLWI_DdZ8/s320/IMG_0233.JPG" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">her hair always seems a little crazy.</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
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<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgevuyS9zl4CaZWiuEGNp8orCLHnQ27JwCI8-LQ89SO2hNELkyUjEiRUetH7-_0MZw-FVTKauO_tKUglUjtF05BKRcgnoj8lqbG2sP71U2xbg3VjFKNqioRbM_AqI-2uVdUBm2-T3if3NY/s1600/IMG_0248.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgevuyS9zl4CaZWiuEGNp8orCLHnQ27JwCI8-LQ89SO2hNELkyUjEiRUetH7-_0MZw-FVTKauO_tKUglUjtF05BKRcgnoj8lqbG2sP71U2xbg3VjFKNqioRbM_AqI-2uVdUBm2-T3if3NY/s320/IMG_0248.jpg" width="239" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">I can't help but want to take pictures first thing in the morning almost every morning. I should probably gather them up for a series. </td></tr>
</tbody></table>
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<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgQWEjW1CaQSVt-OieAteziZR7Ozr4Q7NLYx1zETeuF-hewU6WVeKS8eQwqzDGrnH-U4sKB6L5SZ6YYHl5EyqBtYF_UrR4U1_ynodLF8iuPgIbJiVtzw-oyMlw9LfhucJao8rF1fTiN9TQ/s1600/IMG_0261.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgQWEjW1CaQSVt-OieAteziZR7Ozr4Q7NLYx1zETeuF-hewU6WVeKS8eQwqzDGrnH-U4sKB6L5SZ6YYHl5EyqBtYF_UrR4U1_ynodLF8iuPgIbJiVtzw-oyMlw9LfhucJao8rF1fTiN9TQ/s320/IMG_0261.JPG" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">And one month old. The picture that went in her baby calendar. </td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<br />
And that is that.Charlihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12393617981797676146noreply@blogger.com0