tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-190358502024-03-13T15:53:29.039-07:00Supermom Strikes Again!How three extraordinary little children make an ordinary mom feel like SUPERMOM...every single dayJennyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11794893226884756569noreply@blogger.comBlogger371125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-19035850.post-10184140689939205082014-12-10T22:42:00.001-07:002014-12-10T22:42:56.419-07:00He is the Gift – Christmas Video – #ShareTheGiftMay you have a Christ centered CHRISTmas!!<br /><br />
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<iframe allowfullscreen="" frameborder="0" height="270" src="https://www.youtube.com/embed/uzjFEMmM0Xs" width="480"></iframe><br /><br />
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This image is sized perfectly for your Facebook Cover Photo. #Sharethegift this Holiday season by making this your cover photo!<br /><br />
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg3dBzsF8TMPd9RtNZEBQgS5mcbnk90CnLP6y0Buj6Nbq6uwcPIxHXr9MU2DIyqkOFUc-eZ7RueX7YCg4RiL4AoBWIphzbPNB6_L524kRSI7hQS2jgCI_HA6u5huhERevXkss3POQ/s1600/heisthegift.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg3dBzsF8TMPd9RtNZEBQgS5mcbnk90CnLP6y0Buj6Nbq6uwcPIxHXr9MU2DIyqkOFUc-eZ7RueX7YCg4RiL4AoBWIphzbPNB6_L524kRSI7hQS2jgCI_HA6u5huhERevXkss3POQ/s1600/heisthegift.jpg" /></a></div><br />Jennyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11794893226884756569noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-19035850.post-76944101328461064922014-11-17T13:22:00.000-07:002014-11-17T14:00:43.358-07:00The Biggest Conspiracy EverThere is a cultural conspiracy so elaborate, that just about every child in America will hear it. Not only is it a flat out lie, but it is purposefully perpetuated by parents, grandparents, teachers, strangers, radio announcers, TV commercials, TV shows, movies, newscasters, even church congregations. I'm willing to say it's probably the biggest conspiracy of all time, yet we continually shield our children from learning the truth as long as possible. When they ask us questions about the nature of this Secret Conspiracy, we make up blatant lies in order to answer and keep them believing the lie. And one lie leads to another, until this Secret Conspiracy is so elaborate, only magical phenomena can explain it and science and evidence is thrown out the window.<br />
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There are so many possible questions and infinite fake answers that parents give their children. Most people think its fun and some even think its necessary to tell their children these lies. Parents spend HUNDREDS of dollars of their own money perpetuating this lie every year. Some people think it is magical and fun to let their children believe in this Secret Conspiracy. <br />
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Some observant children begin to wise up and piece together the facts that don't quite add up. They will come to their parent or another adult they trust and straight out ask if the Secret Conspiracy is real. Sometimes they will even gather evidence that suggests it is not real. Some parents might fess up at this point, possibly crushing their child's trust and beliefs, or else confirming what their child may have already deduced. But depending on the child's age, the parent or other trusted adult will make up even MORE lies, pointing out ways and spending even more money to convince their child it could not possibly be imaginary. After all, how could so many people be in on it? <br />
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[Truman Show Flashback]<br />
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Cue Music. Go Wide. Cue Light Cam 8<br />
Marlon: "And the last thing I'd ever do is lie to you. Think about it Truman, if everybody's in on it, I'd have to be in on it too. And I'm not in on it, because there is no it."</blockquote>
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I've decided that I am done lying. My almost 9-year old trusts me unflinchingly and I don't want to lie to her anymore. I want her to trust me when she asks questions about pain and life and death and Christ and everything else. So when it comes to the Secret Conspiracy, I am not going to make up any more stories. I want her to trust me that genuine spiritual experiences are possible, so therefore I can no longer try to convince her of untrue supernatural phenomenon in order to perpetuate the Secret Conspiracy.<br />
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She is so trusting, and has believed all my Secret Conspiracy lies thus far, that when I tried to carefully unfold the truth for her, she didn't get it. I tried to explain that reindeer can't really fly, fat men can't really climb down chimneys or travel the entire globe in one night, elves don't exist and presents have to be paid for, and she just couldn't let go of MAGIC. So I had to spoil it all and tell her the truth: Santa Claus is pretend. Magic isn't real.<br />
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Oh, the crushing disappointment. If ever there is a moment of her childhood that will haunt her future psychotherapy sessions years from now, it will be this one. Where in a matter of moments, so many shattering truths became known at once: her parents had lied to her for so long, magic doesn't exist, and she won't be getting a Razor Scooter or iPad for Christmas because her parents can't afford them and there are no elves to make it for her.<br />
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Don't hate on me for my decision to tell my daughter the truth. I did not ruin Christmas. Only now that she knows can I begin to rebuild her trust. <br />
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And I feel liberated that I no longer have to lie about SC or give him credit for the thoughtful Christmas gifts I paid for with my hard earned cash. And now I can make Christmas about the other Him: the one Jesus Christ whom I do truly believe in and love with all my heart. <br />
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After a few minutes of stunned, panicked silence, her whole 8.96 years of life came crashing down around her. So I video-taped it. It's funny yet also tragic. Hopefully she'll forgive me someday. It's hard for her to loose the fantasy, but we'll still make Christmas magical through Christ, family togetherness, gift-giving, and being Santa for those who need it most.<br />
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<br />Jennyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11794893226884756569noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-19035850.post-9494015582267881562014-08-11T18:17:00.001-07:002014-08-11T18:17:55.973-07:00MusterA year ago in July and August, I had a very difficult summer. I had extreme anxiety and jitters, countered with extreme exhaustion. <br />
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On the one hand, I would be unable to hold still, with impulsive bursts of energy in which I would start painting a room or start driving cross-country at 10:30 at night. On the other hand, I would completely crash in total exhaustion. All my senses were on hyper-alert making me so anxious and paranoid that sometimes I was afraid to drive on the freeway at all. Getting out of bed, going to work every day, attempting any activity that required any sort of exertion was totally daunting. Being on constant high-alert, no matter how much sleep I got I could not manage to recharge my batteries. <br />
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That summer we saw fireworks, I ran a 5K on the spur of the moment, we went on a 1600 mile road trip, I took the kids camping, I painted the basement, we entertained company, and more. But all I remember was constantly having to muster energy hour by hour, and really just wanting to sleep all the time. We'd make plans for the evening, and I'd have to take a nap before I felt like I could go. It was kind of like the exhaustion I felt when I was newly pregnant, and I wasn't pregnant. Combine that with the depression I was already experiencing--with a financially difficult year, moving, and two job changes--I felt like a total mess.<br />
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It wasn't until my sister and I compared notes on a new medication we had both tried that I connected the dots. She had had similar side effects to my mania/exhaustion, and it was like a light-bulb turning on. In June I had started taking Abilify. Abilify is a medication that is supposed to augment the effect of anti-depressant medications. Instead, it had the effect on me of amplifying my anxiety and depression, and making me even less energized than my already low-energy self. The same thing had happened to my sister.<br />
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Flash-forward to this summer. I also painted a room, saw fireworks, went hiking, went camping, spent time at the pool, and entertained company. Yeah, I'm tired, but I feel much different. Looking at the stark contrast from last summer to this has been surprising. I've been able to enjoy family activities and work on projects without completely depleting myself. I may not be the most energetic person to begin with, and I have had depression for a long time, but I feel more like myself now than I did a year ago. <br />
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I just keep looking back at last summer as lost time. Everything that has happened this year seems to be defined by how it is different, and better, from last year. My Abilify trial (and failure) has created a reference point for me.<br />
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Since then, I have found a good balance of medications that allows me to be functional, happy, and hopeful, and I feel a little bit like me!Jennyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11794893226884756569noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-19035850.post-48225829646727476442014-08-01T10:27:00.001-07:002014-08-01T10:27:39.475-07:00July<p dir=ltr>Fun day at the zoo with Sorenson cousins. The kids were more interested in climbing on animal statues than look at actual live animals. Figures. Highlights included the bats, elephants, and giraffes. The kids always love going on the train and carousel. They got to touch a turtle!</p>
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Last Saturday was the much anticipated Spartan race!</div>
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Chris has been training for several months, including trail running, running with weights, running soaking wet, climbing, throwing, pull-ups, push-ups, burpees and more. The biggest challenge would be to do them all in the space of a few hours on a hilly, 12 mile course! In all, Spartan is a test of endurance and strength.</div>
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Last year Chris did the Spartan for the first time with less preparation and a shoulder injury. His goal this year was to be much faster and more physically fit. All his preparation definitely paid off and he completed the race an hour faster than last year's time, even with 90 penalty burpees! (30 penalty burpees are required for each failed obstacle). Obstacles included balancing posts, 6, 7, and 8 foot walls, 2 rope climbs, one of which was in the mud, tire flip, atlas ball carry, rolling down a mud hill underneath barbed wire and more. Obstacles he missed were the traverse wall, spear toss, and he fell off the monkey net. It certainly helped that it was 80 degrees and not 100 like last time. </div>
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Chris had quite a cheerleading section! Fellow fitness buffs Grandpa Joe and Grandma Debbie joined us from Florida. They accompanied Chris to the starting line early in the morning and followed him throughout the race, cheering him on and taking pictures and video. Our friend Ben also came to take pictures and lend support.</div>
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Lola and Great Lola also joined us from Washington to cheer him on. Add Jenny and the kids and that's quite a crowd! </div>
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Not only did Chris race, but Leah and Samuel were also able to participate in a Spartan kids race! Their course was 1/2 a mile and included mud trenches, climbing walls, tire flipping, and a rope web. They loved it! Their dad makes it a priority to "train" with them, so they are experienced in running, climbing, and parkour. They especially loved jumping in the mud!</div>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">We founds some friends at the race!</td></tr>
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It was quite a day, and we celebrated his successful completion with lunch at Tucanos and afternoon naps.</div>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Big grins in the mud.</td></tr>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Climb, Leah, Climb!</td></tr>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Run, Leah, Run!</td></tr>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Medalists!</td></tr>
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Jennyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11794893226884756569noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-19035850.post-21883445262912591212014-06-16T17:56:00.001-07:002014-06-16T17:56:14.471-07:00Bridal Veil Falls adventure<p dir="ltr">Friday we planned a family hike and picnic at Bridal Veil falls. I thought there was an actual hiking trail but there isn't. You can, however, boulder across the rocks directly up the falls!  I've always seen people climbing up and assumed they were crazy. Then I realized it looked like fun!</p>
<p dir="ltr">So Samuel and Leah and I decided to do it!  It was so much fun and very exhilarating. I haven't done anything that spontaneous and potentially dangerous in a loooong time.  And the kids were terrific companions!  They were excited to get a little wet and dirty (ok, a lot dirty) and they really enjoyed the challenge of climbing. They were fearless!  Samuel was quite the trailblazer and had a constant grin on his face the whole time. </p>
<p dir="ltr">We went up to the first major waterfall where others were actually playing in the cold water in their swimming suits and bare feet (ouch!).  It's was refreshing to stand in the spray after the exertion of climbing in the sun.  The kids were giddy. They were simply amazed at the view and to see how high we had climbed. It seemed a lot steeper looking down than it had going up. </p>
<p dir="ltr">There was a little anxiety on the way down, but everyone managed to keep their balance and their wits. No injuries!  Chris was patient with us as he stayed at the bottom with Audrey while the rest of us went up. Audrey enjoyed getting wet and muddy at the bottom in her skivvies!   </p>
<p dir="ltr">I got some pretty great pictures of our adventure. (This experience compares in daring-ness, filth, and exhilaration to when I went spelunking by myself at Eagle Cave in 10th grade-well not quite as filthy as that). I need to go on more adventures like this!</p>
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color: #333333; font-family: 'lucida grande', tahoma, verdana, arial, sans-serif; font-size: 13px; line-height: 17.940000534057617px;">Two prayers answered with one earring.</span><br />
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<span style="background-color: white; color: #333333; font-family: 'lucida grande', tahoma, verdana, arial, sans-serif; font-size: 13px; line-height: 17.940000534057617px;">Since before Christmas, I have been looking for the missing half to my favorite set of earrings. Raking the rug under the bed, peering under dressers and behind cabinets with a flash light, (even sifting through the contents of the vacuum bag--so gross). A week ago I offered a timid, half-hearted plea to the Lord to help me with this tiny thing. I know it's just an earring, but its obviously important to me so I thought that since I have faith in</span><span class="text_exposed_show" style="background-color: white; color: #333333; display: inline; font-family: 'lucida grande', tahoma, verdana, arial, sans-serif; font-size: 13px; line-height: 17.940000534057617px;"> prayer, maybe the Lord could help me find it.<br /><br />And today a coin slid off my dresser and landed in an open drawer, which inspired a stroke of genious to empty all of the drawers and find my earring hidden among Chris's socks! It was such a Happy Moment! </span><br />
<span class="text_exposed_show" style="background-color: white; color: #333333; display: inline; font-family: 'lucida grande', tahoma, verdana, arial, sans-serif; font-size: 13px; line-height: 17.940000534057617px;"><br /></span>
<span class="text_exposed_show" style="background-color: white; color: #333333; display: inline; font-family: 'lucida grande', tahoma, verdana, arial, sans-serif; font-size: 13px; line-height: 17.940000534057617px;"><b>And That </b>was the answer to the full-hearted, pleading, helpless prayer I gave just last night in a place of utter despair and hopelessness, when I pleaded with the Lord to let me have just one glimmer of Joy on Wednesday.<br /><br />My Joy didn't come until 10pm, and when it came, it was in the form of another answered, albeit forgotten, prayer.<br /><br /></span>Jennyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11794893226884756569noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-19035850.post-15926654421680637902014-02-07T14:27:00.001-07:002014-02-07T14:27:15.672-07:00Do you wanna build a snowman?<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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<br />Jennyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11794893226884756569noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-19035850.post-6655342355653626342014-01-20T20:00:00.000-07:002014-06-16T20:27:21.514-07:00Its not business, its personal<div dir="ltr">
I used to think about my depression this way:</div>
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"I'm depressed and miserable. I'm barely functioning. I feel sorry for myself and I want everyone else to feel sorry for me too. I want everyone (in my family, friends and church community) to notice how low I am and to see that I'm drowning. No one else has ever been this low. I'm the only one going through this so it's a big deal and there's no way I can do this without someone rescuing me. Everyone should know that I need help without me saying so, and I want those people to swoop in and take care of me. Take over my responsibilities. They should take care of me and coddle me because I am too debilitated by this depression to do it by myself and I'm definitely too proud to ask for help." </div>
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Or something like that.</div>
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I've had this mentality for at least 12 years.</div>
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I've always placed great importance on my relationships with people around me. Will they notice when I'm struggling and help me without me having to ask? Will they notice when I'm happy? Will they confide in me and trust me? Do they want me around? And I often come away feeling just as disconnected and unsure of myself as I was before. There was (usually) never an amazing connection and no one seemed to want to know the deep desires of my heart. No one was going to tear down the walls that guard <i>my </i>most vulnerable thoughts.</div>
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I'm working on a new mentality. A few unrelated events and conversations all happened at about the same time, and it gave me an epiphany and a new way to think. Here goes. </div>
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The first instance was when we ran into a family that we know at a restaurant. We hadn't seen them in about six months, which was when we attended the funeral of their four year old daughter who had just succumbed to cancer. </div>
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In the spirit of friendship and to gauge whether it was okay to talk about their loss, I simply asked how their family was doing. To my surprise Brian began energetically and unreservedly telling me about how hard its been and how much they miss their daughter. He cried as he talked about what it would be like to have the holidays without her. He seemed at peace with her death and remarked on the irony of one life ending and another beginning, referring to his wife's surprise pregnancy. He shared his firm belief that their family is eternal and they would see their daughter again. Now we were both crying. I apologized for bringing up such a sensitive topic, but what Brian said next was eye opening to me. </div>
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He said that sometimes people ask him how he's doing but they don't really want to know. They just expect a one word answer and then they move on. But when people ask <i>Brian </i>that, he tells them. He tells them if it was a good day or if it was a bad day and that they missed their daughter a lot and cried a lot. And the other person turns out to be genuinely interested. Brian would have told them this painful and deeply personal thing, and then they would turn around and tell him some deeply personal thing that they're going through. Brian was surprised to find out that other people wanted to open up about their loss and heartache too. Now he and this person-who he only knew superficially until just then-they've just had an amazing conversation talking about the really hard things they're both going though. They've just connected on an emotional and personal level and cried together. Everyone has hard stuff that they're going through and even though his is different from theirs, they now have in common that <u>they</u> can talk to each other about it and feel sorrow together.</div>
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You have to be personal with someone in order to connect with them. And you have to connect with that person in order for your relationship to be meaningful and satisfying.</blockquote>
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I definitely want meaningful and satisfying relationships.</div>
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The next epiphany came from my two year old daughter. Since a quick visit from my sister's family a few months ago, my daughter always asks about her little cousin, "Where's Caroline?" In the car, at the store, at bedtime, "Where's Caroline?" I would look at the clock and try to imagine what they would be doing in Illinois when its 7:30. "She's probably getting ready for bed" I'd say. </div>
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And then one morning at breakfast Audrey prayed that we could play at Leslie's house today.</div>
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Well it hit me: these are opportunities to connect with people too. I can call my sister and tell her that Audrey thinks about her sweet little cousin every day! I can call my friend and tell her that Audrey wants to play with Leslie and we should get together soon. That paves the way for more personal communication. </div>
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The third thing is that my parents are leaving the country this week for a two year church service mission in Nicaragua. Two years. Aside from my husband, my mom is the top number that I call on my phone. On my way to work, at the store, for cooking tips, for sewing tips, for parenting tips, to vent about husbands, to cry about potty training, and again to celebrate potty training success, you name it. I pretty much call my mom about everything. And now she will be away for two whole years and I will only get to talk to her once a week for maybe a few minutes at a time. </div>
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I thought about writing in a journal every time I wish I could call mom. I considered that I could send her emails whenever a thought came up I wanted to discuss with her(several per day), but then I realized that with her being away and less reachable, this is a good opportunity for me to reach out to the people <i>around me </i>for help and friendship and connection. My sister, Leslie's mom, Brian's family, my best friend who lives too far away, people in my circle who have heartache they want to share with other people and together lighten the burden a little. </div>
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So my new way of thinking goes something like this:</div>
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I am not unique in my depression. I am not the only one going through something that seems impossible to overcome. And no one is going to take care of me simply because I feel sorry for myself. There is no shame in asking for help. Asking for help will give someone the chance to serve me. No one can read my mind and know I need help unless I tell them. Everyone around me has a story, and we all want to share them and mourn together, comfort together, cry together. Because when we can truly connect to each other by sharing our heartaches, then we will find our relationships are more meaningful and satisfying and we will put down our walls and forget about feeling vulnerable and instead we will genuinely laugh together and cry together and love together and celebrate joy.</blockquote>
<a href="https://www.lds.org/scriptures/bofm/mosiah/18.8-10?lang=eng">Mosiah 18:8-10</a> summarizes my thoughts, and adds that as we serve and comfort and mourn with one another, we are witnessing of Christ, serving the Lord, and will have his Spirit poured out upon us.<br />
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<span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="background-color: white;">It says: </span><a class="bookmark-anchor dontHighlight" href="https://www.blogger.com/null" name="8" style="background-attachment: initial; background-clip: initial; background-image: initial; background-origin: initial; background-position: initial; background-repeat: initial; background-size: initial; border: 0px; line-height: 22px; margin: 0px; padding: 0px; vertical-align: baseline;"> [...]</a><span style="line-height: 22px;"> And now, as ye are desirous</span><span style="line-height: 22px;"> </span><span style="line-height: 22px;">to come into the</span><span style="line-height: 22px;"> </span><span style="line-height: 22px;">fold</span><span style="line-height: 22px;"> </span><span style="line-height: 22px;">of God, and to be called his people, and are willing to <i>bear one another’s burdens</i>, that they may be light; </span><span style="line-height: 22px;">Yea, and are</span><span style="line-height: 22px;"> </span><span style="line-height: 22px;">willing</span><span style="line-height: 22px;"> </span><span style="line-height: 22px;">to <i>mourn with those that</i></span><span style="line-height: 22px;"><i> </i></span><span style="line-height: 22px;"><i>mourn</i>; yea, and c<i>omfort those that stand in need of comfort</i> [...] </span><span style="line-height: 22px;">Now I say unto you, if this be the desire of your hearts, what have you against being</span><span style="line-height: 22px;"> [...] </span><span style="line-height: 22px;">a witness before [the Lord], that ye have entered into a</span><span style="line-height: 22px;"> </span><span style="line-height: 22px;">covenant</span><span style="line-height: 22px;"> </span><span style="line-height: 22px;">with him, that ye will serve him and keep his commandments, that he may pour out his Spirit more abundantly upon you?</span></span><br />
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<span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="line-height: 22px;">So in the process of forgetting about myself and reaching out to others in friendship and compassion, I hope to put my depression in the past. A fortunate side effect will hopefully be a closer relationship with the Savior and a better connection to the Spirit, which some would suggest might have been the problem and solution from the beginning.</span></span>Jennyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11794893226884756569noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-19035850.post-17424862845669506582013-11-19T17:08:00.001-07:002013-11-19T17:08:42.749-07:00Happy Halloween!<p dir=ltr>Leah is a ninja, Samuel is Iron Man, and Audrey is Jessie. They had a blast and we are still hungover on candy!</p>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"> <a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEipW8KbOXMU5s3No_RIpphrxRCG0achnPAN2szTR6aBECrfwHC0hpelV1YDkg3KWOVDYeUVe1KUX3kl9j68tYrsrFrPm8BjJt8O3qVNUgsR5t56UbPscAyCh0cg4qiQ1-SrFltCJA/s1600/20131031_162910.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"> <img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEipW8KbOXMU5s3No_RIpphrxRCG0achnPAN2szTR6aBECrfwHC0hpelV1YDkg3KWOVDYeUVe1KUX3kl9j68tYrsrFrPm8BjJt8O3qVNUgsR5t56UbPscAyCh0cg4qiQ1-SrFltCJA/s640/20131031_162910.jpg"> </a> </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"> <a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjeOlf3PEBdZATUGybGqU7TKl_QL6-abBFdceYVZPM2kpXp-EuF6EzUQP06exEF2F9czvhFEmAt7_Gry9J-3npd9i_IIPeDG7o18zra9Ile_EfiKTOdztgIyRoeb8FSvCbw3EoGbw/s1600/20131031_195424.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"> <img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjeOlf3PEBdZATUGybGqU7TKl_QL6-abBFdceYVZPM2kpXp-EuF6EzUQP06exEF2F9czvhFEmAt7_Gry9J-3npd9i_IIPeDG7o18zra9Ile_EfiKTOdztgIyRoeb8FSvCbw3EoGbw/s640/20131031_195424.jpg"> </a> </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"> <a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh14hARhYuw40rcC38zrQsGQS2IDXbvD1UMr8NjFbVejQ6IbRBfOaVVBhwrTiR5293rle1J5g_qbO_5c3igB5BkniFIWNQU7wPRaMoPclX5KDkHF9WbsyjPWfFhszMOp7KcrRzMCg/s1600/20131031_195741.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"> <img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh14hARhYuw40rcC38zrQsGQS2IDXbvD1UMr8NjFbVejQ6IbRBfOaVVBhwrTiR5293rle1J5g_qbO_5c3igB5BkniFIWNQU7wPRaMoPclX5KDkHF9WbsyjPWfFhszMOp7KcrRzMCg/s640/20131031_195741.jpg"> </a> </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"> <a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgiRvyELCY9KgvyBg_OxRJ41t8PdMQPktYcgUYEDTtCznFSGEUOdsw44XwfXe0KpmIT_5k0mhO94AVmlpVZH6JOyLZDD9ktGVPZfioxvv0n2UZ2fgkDFx5CfZAPWpB7k888WyLUmQ/s1600/20131026_172451.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"> <img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgiRvyELCY9KgvyBg_OxRJ41t8PdMQPktYcgUYEDTtCznFSGEUOdsw44XwfXe0KpmIT_5k0mhO94AVmlpVZH6JOyLZDD9ktGVPZfioxvv0n2UZ2fgkDFx5CfZAPWpB7k888WyLUmQ/s640/20131026_172451.jpg"> </a> </div>Jennyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11794893226884756569noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-19035850.post-89413120900653262742013-05-22T13:48:00.000-07:002013-05-22T13:58:59.679-07:00Sewing, Daily SewingI received a unique sewing commission a few weeks ago and am very proud of the results.<br />
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The project was to make fitted couch covers for these poufy couches.</div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh7ZfdEjfXkH_LZjE4tCBOUma1owNfk7FymRXd4ZIbuysoND5_msV7A3V_yFS7VKpxAT2xprNTpJmDfYWVtbUB-AXUEVzPaP_j-H1Qab_SSPtZ5S8VFX_FKHbNgpkngVNVoNtUZbQ/s1600/couch1.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="150" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh7ZfdEjfXkH_LZjE4tCBOUma1owNfk7FymRXd4ZIbuysoND5_msV7A3V_yFS7VKpxAT2xprNTpJmDfYWVtbUB-AXUEVzPaP_j-H1Qab_SSPtZ5S8VFX_FKHbNgpkngVNVoNtUZbQ/s200/couch1.JPG" width="200" /></a><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg7BdY1rZrLTqY6838R7YyS8H04Qfgz9zncTFK7d-gFR6STY3t_7XR1KrErKjB5WUyH2oxCgL37OWdMEoCvdwNFtDNyzktzSkBiVbmMg5dJxJDj9dOLR7c18jrq8L5fHf2AgCCrfQ/s1600/couch2.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="144" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg7BdY1rZrLTqY6838R7YyS8H04Qfgz9zncTFK7d-gFR6STY3t_7XR1KrErKjB5WUyH2oxCgL37OWdMEoCvdwNFtDNyzktzSkBiVbmMg5dJxJDj9dOLR7c18jrq8L5fHf2AgCCrfQ/s200/couch2.JPG" width="200" /></a></div>
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I spent many hours swiveling from one sewing machine to the other in this tiny room. I used about 15 yards of upholstery fabric.</div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgp-SG1zLQRcl9EXHkehHU5l4upMMR7FizTJ7wGHuQPdFobIoRUK_-p4El0KEiNu-D_M9h6PHdqY9IdSCwyduhfH5XXOVSD5hkxjEW6iZWryWRIBQft6q4gN5MG5NYcuWhECY_bhQ/s1600/room.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="150" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgp-SG1zLQRcl9EXHkehHU5l4upMMR7FizTJ7wGHuQPdFobIoRUK_-p4El0KEiNu-D_M9h6PHdqY9IdSCwyduhfH5XXOVSD5hkxjEW6iZWryWRIBQft6q4gN5MG5NYcuWhECY_bhQ/s200/room.jpg" width="200" /></a><br />
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And here are the final products!<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjbBGcAOKqIjrRc884qwT-MoR0fjN2DbI-iMcsQucuzphnU6Eor9c_kE3VW99fr54z_XnT-6Idi6uqMgQfNV2YieY1B9WeGjCRjs1cbQgJO1ngRkcYgU3R9d9WQXh8TmJqyH4hbYA/s1600/couch1-finished.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjbBGcAOKqIjrRc884qwT-MoR0fjN2DbI-iMcsQucuzphnU6Eor9c_kE3VW99fr54z_XnT-6Idi6uqMgQfNV2YieY1B9WeGjCRjs1cbQgJO1ngRkcYgU3R9d9WQXh8TmJqyH4hbYA/s320/couch1-finished.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiJI-zOQvwOx1Mc4TZ9CIZ1YBHGyHxZLTjzeYctn5aMJW25P9n1BiH3E-gKEXEmHj9rzNkIRSQgag7Chz_gCMHc48kWJRB4LpGIT0lRG_IWccH1Htw-F_wzvJppgpqyscQh1H1Egw/s1600/couch2-finished.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiJI-zOQvwOx1Mc4TZ9CIZ1YBHGyHxZLTjzeYctn5aMJW25P9n1BiH3E-gKEXEmHj9rzNkIRSQgag7Chz_gCMHc48kWJRB4LpGIT0lRG_IWccH1Htw-F_wzvJppgpqyscQh1H1Egw/s320/couch2-finished.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">This one also has recliners on each side.</td></tr>
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If you have a custom sewing project you'd like to commission, please email or message me on Facebook. I can do costumes, curtains, clothes, mending, alterations, and apparently couch covers. I'd be happy to give you an estimate. I can also teach sewing lessons. I have many happy customers that can vouch for me.</div>
Jennyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11794893226884756569noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-19035850.post-62451490415120574602013-04-08T11:26:00.001-07:002013-04-08T11:26:04.382-07:00You Take The Cake<div class="" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
For Teacher Appreciation Week, Leah and I decorated the classroom door. I can't wait until she gets home from school and I can find how her teacher liked it!</div>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiDq4UdqxiPYv5ABu88qoVp9TXBbkcQJhi2EZIInPwF_wfN6Qs_HVofIO2c4f2QplYpnikXKiCMdANa9GThpVPyk9pvtaZxJvO-TEzCL9aJ26n3zBslGGlJwnLvYcnH1yzIwDKaEQ/s1600/IMG01148-20130408-0807.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/AVvXsEiDq4UdqxiPYv5ABu88qoVp9TXBbkcQJhi2EZIInPwF_wfN6Qs_HVofIO2c4f2QplYpnikXKiCMdANa9GThpVPyk9pvtaZxJvO-TEzCL9aJ26n3zBslGGlJwnLvYcnH1yzIwDKaEQ/s320/IMG01148-20130408-0807.jpg" width="240" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Love that grin!</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgwybveYV2syBMUgt7pnSJOsb8A6qdkwqF00M6qt5wrCfjpTr2Ckf6jlQjUPHB4OV03lP60cnHZCTiwWT0sGED0SFj6vc4ofFFxvhvnXgSMBKTpQQ39R1CYB1jH6NoLlUwiViJfXA/s1600/IMG01150-20130408-0807.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/AVvXsEgwybveYV2syBMUgt7pnSJOsb8A6qdkwqF00M6qt5wrCfjpTr2Ckf6jlQjUPHB4OV03lP60cnHZCTiwWT0sGED0SFj6vc4ofFFxvhvnXgSMBKTpQQ39R1CYB1jH6NoLlUwiViJfXA/s320/IMG01150-20130408-0807.jpg" width="240" /></a></td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjX7OQUEEgyBJGdwSb6ZsM2gVhUX7dDjFvOZUXlWu8MLJP-X-OY3Sx5XDIP-DpsTSNkcP1jH2myA5TzbMj3uN5h2chewT9iiL-xKcKd7vU3dK70hVv9Uw7oo-CIAyh-HIUuVaQDvQ/s1600/IMG01151-20130408-0808.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjX7OQUEEgyBJGdwSb6ZsM2gVhUX7dDjFvOZUXlWu8MLJP-X-OY3Sx5XDIP-DpsTSNkcP1jH2myA5TzbMj3uN5h2chewT9iiL-xKcKd7vU3dK70hVv9Uw7oo-CIAyh-HIUuVaQDvQ/s320/IMG01151-20130408-0808.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Giant cardstock cupcake</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEizqs_GEcQuOEukrYmrOhXz0cMKx6xIWZyGjCMuLqhN592hfe737qLYISvuBBxlgYZRpmZv8cPVnaSiiovvQOFj737zjzHeeDoViUXg7Ezcaxq8-g3Gn46dW4ZF1BB3yM_ucaWbYw/s1600/IMG01152-20130408-0808.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEizqs_GEcQuOEukrYmrOhXz0cMKx6xIWZyGjCMuLqhN592hfe737qLYISvuBBxlgYZRpmZv8cPVnaSiiovvQOFj737zjzHeeDoViUXg7Ezcaxq8-g3Gn46dW4ZF1BB3yM_ucaWbYw/s320/IMG01152-20130408-0808.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">22 Small cupcakes</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjQJdtlYx5yq_-J238R610JM7AKglyV85dRXGX5fsUHHUtEsPeO7LX9p-HjN3a5jX5yUUZRhuC67Bz9iJP0CWGHwFd3raqyHkRunxSM4dKE7vBvBgjN85RHXuLcVcA4M6KhGPcVrw/s1600/IMG01153-20130408-0808.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjQJdtlYx5yq_-J238R610JM7AKglyV85dRXGX5fsUHHUtEsPeO7LX9p-HjN3a5jX5yUUZRhuC67Bz9iJP0CWGHwFd3raqyHkRunxSM4dKE7vBvBgjN85RHXuLcVcA4M6KhGPcVrw/s320/IMG01153-20130408-0808.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Nearly 200 polka-dots</td></tr>
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Jennyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11794893226884756569noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-19035850.post-42103006032007999862012-08-26T18:06:00.002-07:002012-08-26T18:06:44.882-07:00Public Speaking<br />
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="line-height: 115%;">Leah gave the following talk in Primary today. She dictated it to me, I typed it up, and then read it in Primary almost all by herself.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="line-height: 115%;">To invite
the spirit to us we say our prayers, be kind, read our scriptures, go to
church.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="line-height: 115%;">There is
good music and bad music. The kind of
music is the good music not the bad music. Good music makes us feel happy
inside and outside.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="line-height: 115%;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="line-height: 115%;">To make us
healthy we put healthy food inside our bodies.
Sometimes its okay once in a while to eat candy, sugar in your mush or
in your oatmeal. If we do that all the
time we wont be healthy or very smart.
If we do that all the time we wont feel the spirit. No drinking alcohol
or smoking cigarettes because that is not good for our bodies. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="line-height: 115%;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="line-height: 115%;">When we do good things like doing something nice when it is not done like clean up
your bedroom or your mom's bedroom, we feel the spirit.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="line-height: 115%;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="line-height: 115%;">All the time
you are supposed to follow the commandments.
Jesus gives us commandments. We
follow them because we will feel the spirit.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="line-height: 115%;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="line-height: 115%;">In the name
of Jesus Christ, Amen.<span style="font-size: 22pt;"><o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
Jennyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11794893226884756569noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-19035850.post-31829888884627741622012-08-21T08:24:00.000-07:002012-08-21T08:24:07.861-07:00Leah, First Grader<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">
What did you eat for breakfast on your first day of First Grade? Leah had Fruit Loops, of course! Leah wanted to ride the bus to school. And have me show here where to go when she got off the bus. This meant that I raced the bus to school and waited for her on the playground.</div>
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<br />Leah is nervous and excited to go to first grade. She is sad that she will not have as much play time since she will be at school longer, but I think she will get used to it pretty quickly. Plus, the first graders have TWO recess times and the first grade playground has swings! (As demonstrated by Samuel, below).</div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhqs8ShHm_eudIOjWmbYwOsjyuAJ7bOh_PrtsZ6YvM9HvyEK8vEWaPxd1vW4zgcUAEv7cYuX2jTqlAUlOjOeVuBYgJjnUKxs-X-DH7O5NHd0Vb0FJscTnNFQ-iBHxcB71oMftg9bw/s1600/IMG00634-20120821-0724.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="239" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhqs8ShHm_eudIOjWmbYwOsjyuAJ7bOh_PrtsZ6YvM9HvyEK8vEWaPxd1vW4zgcUAEv7cYuX2jTqlAUlOjOeVuBYgJjnUKxs-X-DH7O5NHd0Vb0FJscTnNFQ-iBHxcB71oMftg9bw/s320/IMG00634-20120821-0724.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgtMUlRdnAwqrVFMc0RjJQuMmi7yr0FGyrHtNDqPXQfsSdHlitza-hInqz8GZKPtbvmXuw-WfCDa4t6BCMOb-hF5Iol7j-hYWLV71mTBrtxHWOnXL8K1nnAwMWSFn24KBk4Uvh5QQ/s1600/IMG00638-20120821-0842.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="150" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgtMUlRdnAwqrVFMc0RjJQuMmi7yr0FGyrHtNDqPXQfsSdHlitza-hInqz8GZKPtbvmXuw-WfCDa4t6BCMOb-hF5Iol7j-hYWLV71mTBrtxHWOnXL8K1nnAwMWSFn24KBk4Uvh5QQ/s200/IMG00638-20120821-0842.jpg" width="200" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">I snuck a picture through the window.</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/AVvXsEjLFsxuGqtgexeCKV4geodDEQTIpYs8o5CGFAPq-ncCpdiRv4ILoo_yPEd5U_sjULlV0idPqcRmk6tkNjvaQ4IIzzZ-eD7l2_C5spORjQ49Ay6aZqt2RF2vScANCJ8K0fsS-_YQ6Q/s1600/IMG00637-20120821-0841.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="150" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjLFsxuGqtgexeCKV4geodDEQTIpYs8o5CGFAPq-ncCpdiRv4ILoo_yPEd5U_sjULlV0idPqcRmk6tkNjvaQ4IIzzZ-eD7l2_C5spORjQ49Ay6aZqt2RF2vScANCJ8K0fsS-_YQ6Q/s200/IMG00637-20120821-0841.jpg" width="200" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Lining up!</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh0lpo-EzXYulSO-hw_N3w6wHYFql9OlBgDhgWczayIBYn3O1AKe3cN_2QKHkoFTB7aWUJWoe_hRF4ocuighF7x9ox1N6wLeUuQtyhs-Ngi6sPV-VTBpQhTnzgjG06ySmicBz6Z8A/s1600/IMG00642-20120821-0853.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh0lpo-EzXYulSO-hw_N3w6wHYFql9OlBgDhgWczayIBYn3O1AKe3cN_2QKHkoFTB7aWUJWoe_hRF4ocuighF7x9ox1N6wLeUuQtyhs-Ngi6sPV-VTBpQhTnzgjG06ySmicBz6Z8A/s320/IMG00642-20120821-0853.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Swings are the best.</td></tr>
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Jennyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11794893226884756569noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-19035850.post-50378027208521479922012-08-19T16:35:00.004-07:002012-08-19T16:35:45.960-07:00ChoresChore Chart, Day One.<br />
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There was considerable tears and a fair amount of arm twisting. It can only get better, right?<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEithpRF9I4BzIkUowq-ciTmoFbfjgdHweGo24dpK1waS_FVf34Ovt1XUjtKZdxlbVpoo7q-0zo5tbDuZ9PKnA89d-3ZLzyC_V0Wtfsa5WDjYy7n_xlkfiAe2P6giSQEeJBkLAg2BQ/s1600/IMG00633-20120819-1732.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="239" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEithpRF9I4BzIkUowq-ciTmoFbfjgdHweGo24dpK1waS_FVf34Ovt1XUjtKZdxlbVpoo7q-0zo5tbDuZ9PKnA89d-3ZLzyC_V0Wtfsa5WDjYy7n_xlkfiAe2P6giSQEeJBkLAg2BQ/s320/IMG00633-20120819-1732.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>
Jennyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11794893226884756569noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-19035850.post-63975303228734029182012-08-13T07:20:00.000-07:002012-08-13T07:21:52.928-07:00Big Day<div style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
Saturday was a big day for us. Chris completed his first ever formal race, the Provo Trail Half Marathon with a run time of 2:12. Way to go Chris! We are so proud of you! As you can see from the pictures, everyone agrees that Chris is the best dad!</div>
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Later that day I performed at a talent show at Macey's in Spanish Fork. It was fun. I felt pretty good about it, lets just forget that I forgot a verse.</div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjvyVQwi1vSUaw648yrzJyEqqZeGh9dOYhGW4Lxs7yrA_u09lotrhEJm7CLmOI56oAcAK2-nDe9rbrCuOw4SOEYPWaieqG7chAd4mPVXUE2czKT-sOLW7IO-gZhsBxgMgu6hSLaaA/s1600/DSC03526.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjvyVQwi1vSUaw648yrzJyEqqZeGh9dOYhGW4Lxs7yrA_u09lotrhEJm7CLmOI56oAcAK2-nDe9rbrCuOw4SOEYPWaieqG7chAd4mPVXUE2czKT-sOLW7IO-gZhsBxgMgu6hSLaaA/s320/DSC03526.JPG" width="320" /></a><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhu7lmkxaf5LukUy2nsVI21X02N6dKrjx5DpviWwB1805yCNQZiTQ6RJWljgFFgVkT3GS4Lu9qAwHHAaCuwEzLy43zsnGhseC6rUq_bndtheET-FjrnK8c76nY-w0z3qSKscfgnbw/s1600/DSC03521.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/AVvXsEhu7lmkxaf5LukUy2nsVI21X02N6dKrjx5DpviWwB1805yCNQZiTQ6RJWljgFFgVkT3GS4Lu9qAwHHAaCuwEzLy43zsnGhseC6rUq_bndtheET-FjrnK8c76nY-w0z3qSKscfgnbw/s320/DSC03521.JPG" width="240" /></a></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjrqjScTgRCUhaMlv8a8LRMah2zhuRN7qCrvLDummdtReG-_Q0ntUrE8AmrCpj5Pfv27oHQG3Cpv2HwnpMS7EF_FMGxJLr__XomBMtopcQ8XHm68HbPLYEj591Hb3OZEcqhQ05cWg/s1600/DSC03541.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjrqjScTgRCUhaMlv8a8LRMah2zhuRN7qCrvLDummdtReG-_Q0ntUrE8AmrCpj5Pfv27oHQG3Cpv2HwnpMS7EF_FMGxJLr__XomBMtopcQ8XHm68HbPLYEj591Hb3OZEcqhQ05cWg/s320/DSC03541.JPG" width="320" /></a></div>
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Meanwhile this little bug Audrey Maggie is a hugger! She knows that if she says "hug! hug!" someone will pick her up and give her a hug. She does this all the time! When I'm doing dishes, when she wants to get out of the high chair, when I'm reading.... She's a hugger!</div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjakLiqsuwmLrxgin8z_rpE0iGsXgsxRuldbRyKGmnCXL8KLXFkZcchuK8hSOwkjbg3AJvikqdn9a9bUYHK84RRWdeGw1xiIvueJe4ArYkVor9sNpUYU0IpnPr9-XXRlKXeBiOlZg/s1600/DSC03524.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjakLiqsuwmLrxgin8z_rpE0iGsXgsxRuldbRyKGmnCXL8KLXFkZcchuK8hSOwkjbg3AJvikqdn9a9bUYHK84RRWdeGw1xiIvueJe4ArYkVor9sNpUYU0IpnPr9-XXRlKXeBiOlZg/s320/DSC03524.JPG" width="320" /></a><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgu_GWWxG-0Btx-OOP8VUt6XwG_5Ue5qwVSuWgMJcglpev-9ZVVn8KSeMdUCxM0gNk3Cl5tfKRksnPkTBsSncVqk8V8vSWC3JzhhIWTMiKNDMY_qhbkgfUnjGUmXZuyhLoXW78IyQ/s1600/DSC03528.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgu_GWWxG-0Btx-OOP8VUt6XwG_5Ue5qwVSuWgMJcglpev-9ZVVn8KSeMdUCxM0gNk3Cl5tfKRksnPkTBsSncVqk8V8vSWC3JzhhIWTMiKNDMY_qhbkgfUnjGUmXZuyhLoXW78IyQ/s320/DSC03528.JPG" width="320" /></a></div>
Jennyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11794893226884756569noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-19035850.post-46083953677781942402012-06-28T13:42:00.000-07:002012-06-28T13:43:56.769-07:00Soap BoxIf you hear my 800 word soap box in favor of Barack Obama, I will hear yours. Republicans are hung up on the national debt problem, and I agree that it is bad. However, economic recovery is not possible without a cost. (don't we go to college and buy a house and a car and have student<br />
loans and car loans and home loans and business loans before we have a high enough earning potential to have a positive net worth by the time we retire in 40 years???) <br />
<br />
This is how I see it:<br />
Think of the relationships of businesses and consumers and employees. A lively and profit-earning consumer-driven economy (yes, you are a consumer) produces revenue for the country, which needs taxes in order to function. In return, the country provides its citizens with protection (law enforcement, military), roads, libraries, schools, the freedom to work and play, access to fair medical care and fair credit and fair pay (Lilly Ledbetter--really? You want to repeal an act of law that allows women the opportunity to sue their employer if they are paid unfairly because of gender!?!?!)...do I need to go on? <br />
<br />
The recession marks the loss of millions of working-class jobs (and subsequently those individuals' ability to continue as the same type of consumer they were beforehand) and then they lost their homes (because if you don't have a job, you can't pay your mortgage and your credit cards) and then the housing and financial market collapsed and those people lost their jobs, and it's a big domino effect... Okay, you get the picture.<br />
<br />
President Obama is not responsible for the recession as some people think, since he took office AFTER we were already knee-deep. After President Obama took office, the downward-spiraling economy (think of a fast-moving train) had to be slowed in the direction it was going before it could stop and start going back in the other direction. Well, in this kind of recession that we are in, when the economy is crumbling exponentially, there would obviously be a increase in government spending in order to quickly implement programs that would help the working class get back on their feet, boost business small and large, support consumers, reboot the housing market, etc. This kind of recovery would cost the government dramatically more than during a Presidency where there isn't a national economic crisis to be corrected. The national debt is increasing exponentially yes, and this<br />
fact by itself is disturbing, but in order to improve the economy, these programs cannot be overlooked. If opposing political parties argue that these programs are too costly and should be eliminated, they are saying that the people should be left to themselves to improve their economic circumstances without government intervention. How will existing companies keep their<br />
workforce? How will small businesses get started? How will families be able to afford homes? And healthcare? How will they be able to catch up on the high-interest associated with credit card debt? (There are consumer behaviors that need to change here, too. How else do you explain how our economy got here in the first place?)<br />
<br />
The Republican party is focused on simply saying "no" to Obama no matter what it is, with the intention of denying him a second Presidential term and repealing everything he has done. Why not look at the individual policies to determine their merit, instead of rejecting the whole package that is President Obama? Why turn a blind eye to the accomplishments and economic progress of the past few years simply because it has come with a cost? I do not agree with every single opinion and point of interest as this man, but I support him as the President of the United States because I see how much good he as accomplished in such a short amount of time; good that affects everyone!<br />
<br />
This is positive progress for our nation, and electing someone who intends to undo everything that Obama has instituted will put this country farther behind on the road to recovery. We need to let these<br />
programs pan out so that we fully benefit from the economic reconstruction they are designed to produce! Our nation is not united: we are divided in a blue- and red-sided tug of war. But I am willing to give a little on some of the smaller points of view in order to accept the improvement our nation can accomplish with the programs that President Obama has instituted. Put aside your political biases and see which compromises you are willing to accept for the betterment of our nation and its citizens (that would be you.)<br />
<br />
This video is an understandable illustration of the ways that President Obama has made policies and programs that will help individuals, businesses, consumers, and the country. Please have an<br />
open mind and consider that this is good progress that should not be discarded!<br />
<br />
<iframe allowfullscreen="" frameborder="0" height="315" src="http://www.youtube.com/embed/1WbQe-wVK9E" width="560"></iframe>Jennyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11794893226884756569noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-19035850.post-89040911932667523542012-06-24T22:22:00.001-07:002012-06-24T22:24:30.810-07:00Mom for a daySo Friday was my day off! Just kidding. Friday, I worked twice as hard as usual to facilitate Leah being Mom for a day. She got to serve breakfast, do laundry, dishes, sweeping, mopping, vacuuming, diapering, etc, all with my coaching and assistance. I wanted her to get the feel of all the things that Mom does every day. Well, the things that Mom is supposed to do every day. She was excited and willing all day. She kept forgetting that she was the Mom and I would remind her that we had more work to do before we could sit down and relax, and she would jump back up again to get back to work.<br />
Her main motivations for being mom for a day were so that she could choose what we ate for our meals, allow movie and computer playing times whenever she wanted, and mostly so that she could stay up late. We had chocolate milk with our breakfast and snacks at will, and she made what she would make every day if she could, Fruit Salad. (She did a very good solo fruit salad!)<br />
<br />
I interviewed Leah today to find out how she felt about the experience.<br />
<br />
We ended up having free lunch at the school, and Leah was disappointed that she hadn't gotten to serve the meal herself. On the other hand, earlier when she had asked Samuel if he wanted Macaroni and Cheese for lunch and he had replied with enthusiasm, she then replied dejectedly, "Oh, except I don't know how to make that."<br />
<br />
She said that the experience was a lot of work. However, she managed to go the entire time without complaining! She commented that some parts were fun, but there was a lot to do at once and that she didn't want it to take so long. All that work made her hungry. She said it was especially tricky when the baby was awake and needed attention. <br />
<br />
I asked her what she learned. I had high expectations that she would have a renewed sense of appreciation for me and a greater desire to make my work easier by being more helpful. She <em>halfheartedly</em> agreed that she should <em>probably</em> be more willing to clean up after herself and complain less. She was undecided on whether or not she would appreciate me more. I think she learned that I make decisions because I have reasons. She did also ask me when she can be Mom again...<br />
<br />
Well, I learned that Leah is a cheerful helper when she wants to be. When the incentives are in place or when the suggestion of independence is appealing enough, she can be a great assistant. When she's had enough, however, she checks out and returns to her own imaginative world. <br />
<br />
If we've learned nothing else from this experience, it is that in the hard moments when I'm overwhelmed and Leah is impatient or demanding, I can remind her of her day as Mom and ask her if she could have done it by herself. With all we accomplished on Friday, I know for sure I could not have done it by myself. I just need to put her (and myself) to work every day so that she knows she should always be my little assistant, and all that practice will help her be prepared for her next chance at being Mom!Jennyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11794893226884756569noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-19035850.post-73257464078007868192012-06-20T22:30:00.000-07:002012-06-20T22:37:35.419-07:00Being MomToday I became totally exasperated over the insistent demands, manipulative pouty faces, and utter impatience of Leah. I refused to be a short order cook for lunch, which was unacceptable. I <em>forced</em> her to help me while I made dinner, with her options of setting the table or keeping the baby happy (aka playing with her). When I told her I would cut up her orange <em>after</em> she changed out of her swimming suit, she complained that she was too hungry and couldn't wait that long. Yes, this all happened after we had spent the entire morning at the water park. So in a nut shell, I was totally <em>fed up.</em><br />
<br />
Behaviors such as this are not infrequent. She's a good kid, she just doesn't get that the world doesn't revolve around her. And that my sole purpose in life is not to cater to her every need at a moment's notice. I think you could file this one under "attitude."<br />
<br />
So I hatched a plan. I told her that she can be the Mom for an <em>entire day.</em> She can say no and yes as much as she wants, just like mom does. She can stay up late just like mom. She can pick whatever she wants for breakfast. And lunch. And dinner. As long as she makes it and feeds everyone and cleans it up, just like mom does. Because in Leah's world, Mom says yes and no arbitrarily, and does certain things just to be mean. And stays up late watching TV just because she can. Etcetera, etcetera, etcetera.<br />
<br />
I need her to realize that I work hard all day to take care of everyone else. I want Leah to understand that I sit back and put my feet up at the end of the day because, more often than not, it is the first time I've sat down all day. I want her to understand that I say my yeses and nos because there are reasons. I want her to understand that as a grown up I have knowledge and experience that counts for something. "I know you don't like vegetables! Do you think I'm trying to torture you, or can you believe me when I tell you there is actually a purpose to this?"<br />
<br />
I want Leah to be excited about her own future motherhood, and I hope that I will be the one to teach her many things about nurturing and taking care of a household (notwithstanding my frequent absences of sanity lately). But I also hope that this exercise will help her understand what goes in to being a mom and make her want to stay a kid for awhile, only having to help out <em>some </em>of the time, instead of doing all the work always.<br />
<br />
Most importantly I hope she learns that I am not a waitress or a genie or a superhero. Her needs will be met, but not at her beck and call. Her preferences and tastes and whims are not the order of <em>my</em> life. She will eat what is served. She will have clean clothes to wear because someone purchased them and washed them and put them away. Rewards and outings will occur because the children have been helpful and cooperative, because I have planned my schedule and done my chores and spent my money on it, and it is important to me, <em>not</em> because my six-year old is the queen of the universe. I just want her to appreciate me and all the work I do. I don't want to doom her to failure, I want to help her succeed, but to also understand that it is a lot of work for parents, and that is why the children are expected to help and not complain. So that when she goes back to being a kid again the next day, she has a better attitude and more gratitude. Is that too much to ask? <br />
<br />
We decided that Friday would be the day that Leah is the Mom. This gives her a day and a half to practice. So tonight as we sat down to dinner (the children each shoveling down their second pancake while mom has yet to take her first bite), I decided that she could practice being the mom tonight. I had her do the chair-bouncing thing back and forth to the fridge. She decided that everyone could have chocolate milk with their dinner (yes, pancakes), including the baby. She was the one to pour the syrup, spoon-feed the baby her applesauce, and then to mop up the resulting spills. She did all the baby bathing, with the washcloth-ing and the shampoo-ing. I helped her have everything she would need to dry, diaper, and dress the baby for bedtime, and I'm hoping my detailed diaper-changing demonstration will prepare her to do it by herself. Then we spent an hour together doing dishes and cleaning up dinner. (How long has it been since I played in the dish bubbles at the kitchen sink?)<br />
It only took a few minutes of Leah being the Mom for the true nature of its poeticity to shine through. All those things that moms say that make kids roll their eyes? Well they must be true because Leah said it: "I'm already getting you something, I can only do one thing at a time!" Ah, Samuel and I had a good laugh with that one and I saw Leah hide a sheepish smile.<br />
<br />
So here's to Friday. I have some important things I hope to teach her, and in the process I expect she will teach me a few things in return.Jennyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11794893226884756569noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-19035850.post-50369551904369732242012-06-10T00:28:00.000-07:002012-06-10T15:17:19.887-07:00Smell the flower, blow out the candleSo I realize that I have ignored my blog for three months. It has been so much easier to post one sentence updates to Facebook than actual blog posts, but this is not fair to my friends and family who actually want to know about our lives. And its not really fair to myself, because blogging is a really good way of expression. We are still here. We are all alive and breathing. We only had to call poison control once. <br />
<br />
I am just going to announce that I intend to come back to blogging. Mostly because I like the sound of the keyboard clacking on my new computer. It is very pretty and I named her Violet. It is so fast and does not overheat, it has Windows 7 and the number three on the 10-key actually works. These are good things.<br />
<br />
I realized today that at 28 I have officially been dealing with depression for <em>half</em> of my life. That darn puberty thing really screwed me up. I am going to therapy and breathing deeply. I am adopting the mantra that life is hard and that I can do hard things. This may or may not be working.<br />
<br />
There is this thing about Survival Mode: In order to survive, you must make sure your children are fed and wearing clothing (bonus points if the clothes are clean). Breakfast for dinner is acceptable, however cinnamon toast can only be used as an entree once per week. The house should not catch fire, and showering should be attempted at least every two days. Makeup and hairspray are extra credit only. If you have a job, you should go or they might fire you, but you don't really have to look nice unless you must interact with actual professionals at said job. You should probably at least lay a towel over the spilled milk in the kitchen, and make sure the sheets are washed after a bout of vomiting. Actually putting away laundry is more of a maintenance, cruising mode kind of thing, and doesn't really happen in Survival Mode. Survival Mode is marked daily by curses over missing keys and persistent alarm clocks. Going visiting teaching is out of the question.<br />
<br />
In addition to the necessity of keeping the children alive and safe, there is an Activity of Withdrawal from responsibility that usually lasts a couple weeks. I played a lot of Solitaire for awhile. Sometimes it is sleep, thanks to electronic devices that four year can operate by themselves. Sometimes I do nothing but read murder mysteries. Or design and construct skirts. Sometimes it is Angry Birds. Often it is Facebook, where I can stay abreast of important events in the lives of my former junior high acquaintances and receive validation from people without actually having to interact with them. Sometimes I do nothing but watch Grey's Anatomy. I really miss George. There were two weeks where all I did was Rubik's cube. You get the picture.<br />
<br />
Every once in a while I emerge from a cocoon of bedsheets and drawn curtains and become myself again. I actually take dinner to people I care about that are having a rough week. I might make biscuits from scratch, paint with the kids, or genuinely laugh at a joke. I might go to story time at the library and pack a picnic lunch at the park. Sometimes I wear make up and once last month I <em>actually blow-dried my hair</em>. <br />
<br />
I miss being me. I want to be me. I hope to get to the point where I can look back on the Survival years and be grateful for a healthy, New me. An involved and cheerful wife/mom/food buyer/individual whose socks are predictably matching, does not have a caffeine habit, is not running late or scrambling for a babysitter, and whose keys are not lost. Her history of Depression is actually history, with wonderful lessons learned and an inspiring story to boost and encourage another who is still in the thick of it. I will be someone who <em>doesn't</em> get her feathers ruffled because life isn't fair. I don't want to continue on a path that makes my years of depression <em>outnumber</em> my years of wellness.<br />
<br />
That's it. That is where I am and where I want to go. In a recent epiphany, I realized that feeling hopeless is not actually because there is no hope, but because some evil spirit is sneaking into my qi and trying to make life seem hopeless so that I will just Give Up. <br />
<br />
So now that I know that all is not hopeless, I know to pray away the adversary and try again to be Me tomorrow.<br />
<br />Jennyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11794893226884756569noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-19035850.post-1092384145879283812012-03-07T20:38:00.002-07:002012-03-07T20:42:56.996-07:00Future Filmmaker<p><br /><iframe allowfullscreen='allowfullscreen' webkitallowfullscreen='webkitallowfullscreen' mozallowfullscreen='mozallowfullscreen' width='320' height='266' src='https://www.blogger.com/video.g?token=AD6v5dx1_Iizp7VNDpfqTcM4lxF2cb6mTZtlzGbs5Lwmu-WkmJQombOwi3n5vsnUuDxsRrMIwaMrrWu5QVI' class='b-hbp-video b-uploaded' frameborder='0'></iframe></p><br /><p>Leah announced today that Bob the Builder is clay-mation. Then she asked me what that meant. So, tonight's after-dinner activity was making a stop-motion video. We didn't quite get to the clay part. After we did a video MY way, she got to do one her way. She was so excited to make a movie! She told me she has been wanting to make a movie forever! She is very creative. I had to do the narrating for her because she couldn't say it all in 12 seconds. Enjoy Leah's directorial debut!</p><br /><p></p><br /><p><br /><iframe allowfullscreen='allowfullscreen' webkitallowfullscreen='webkitallowfullscreen' mozallowfullscreen='mozallowfullscreen' width='320' height='266' src='https://www.blogger.com/video.g?token=AD6v5dwGLeG4h-s-4XBAeBBNeXGckbQBRNHBC0iRBMOrbYzZpJmIs0BOhp3Ia6L_vBgraulypuQmEp83ODg' class='b-hbp-video b-uploaded' frameborder='0'></iframe></p>Jennyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11794893226884756569noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-19035850.post-82036529605260171782012-02-22T06:23:00.001-07:002012-02-22T06:24:57.310-07:00FaithLeah, age 6<br /><br /><div>"We no chat Jesis is reell"</div><br /><div>Translation: "We know that Jesus is real."</div><br /><div></div><br /><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiYL6LAvIoRVehkBE86jwP03wxDNtT_sQBbctcH9VqOchBWELCsiepPFmvF-_oyS6UggryaEo-zTCOxLSe1-SOF-KIPN-9BN8bCtW5b2aXgOTjXrovBvys4syCtB683SLVl15iFdQ/s1600/IMG00064-20120222-0608.jpg"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5711950166554822162" style="FLOAT: left; MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; WIDTH: 320px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 240px" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiYL6LAvIoRVehkBE86jwP03wxDNtT_sQBbctcH9VqOchBWELCsiepPFmvF-_oyS6UggryaEo-zTCOxLSe1-SOF-KIPN-9BN8bCtW5b2aXgOTjXrovBvys4syCtB683SLVl15iFdQ/s320/IMG00064-20120222-0608.jpg" border="0" /></a>Jennyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11794893226884756569noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-19035850.post-5117554836695382912012-02-07T19:25:00.000-07:002012-02-07T20:40:32.179-07:00Audrey, 9 months: Predictions and Observations<div><br /><div>I'm going to go out on a limb here and say that my nine-month old baby has her own personality. She is nothing like her brother and sister.<br /></div><br /><div>Let me elaborate.</div><br /><div><br />I have made the observation already that Audrey is mischeivous and stubborn. At five months old, she figured out how to twist her way out of the baby swing and climb out of the bumbo. And at 8 months old, she flipped herself out of the excersaucer. If left alone too long, she will twist out of her buckles in the high chair and stroller. Neither of the other kids did that. Does this mean she will be climbing out of her crib at eighteen months?</div><br /><br /><p>Her latest trick is pushing her legs against the kitchen table during mealtime. This means that she either tips her chair back, or pushes the table away. It is only a matter of time before she tips her chair all the way over! </p><br /><p>Audrey is opinionated and outspoken. If she doesn't want to do something, then doggone it, she will simply not do it. She went on strike last month while cutting her first two teeth, in which she refused to nurse, take a bottle, take a binky, or take a nap. There was a lot of tears involved in this, and not just from her. Sleeping at church is out of the question. She cries instantly when I put her in the playpen, or (heaven forbid!) leave the room. She is very social and does not like to be alone. I'm sure this has something to do with being the third and never having been alone to begin with!</p><br /><p>Don't get me wrong, she is a very sweet baby, and generally eats and naps very well. She is (finally!) sleeping 10 hours at night. When her needs are met she is a charm and full of smiles! But if she is not feeling well, and if the circumstances are not perfect for sleeping (like, being in her own bed...) she will make sure everyone knows about it.</p><br /><p>Developmentally she is right on track. Yesterday she weighed in at nearly 17 pounds. She is a very fast crawler and is pulling herself up. She uses the pincher grasp for picking things up, she can wave and clap (so cute!) and she reaches for mom and dad. She knows the signs for milk and more. She says MaMa, NaNa, LaLa, BaBa, and Ga, but her favorite is DaDa. Another favorite noise to make is a throaty two-tone growl, which she employs constantly. (I'm trying to get this on video...) Audrey loves taking a bath in the big tub. She loves to crawl around, and spashes like there's no tomorrow! She loves peek-a-boo, and is starting to pull the blanket on and off her face by herself during the game.</p><br /><p>She has very delicate features. Her face is round and smooth and her eyes are wide and full of life. She has dainty features, with her long curly lashes, and a sweet, contaigious smile. While her hair doesn't stick straight up anymore, it is still quite long and reaches all the way to her eyes. It is still soft like feathers. She smiles when I blow my breath on her forehead.</p>Oh, how I adore this little girl!<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgDq-2uTVuJp0vuGAS7dVWbMMaRXFt6MY-kUi4ZP3d9Mx3IMcUOPR3EaSMitk2s_DI81XJoini50j27mSAGRydMuIZyvdErdr96-Z4c8yQVexCjAtshjZNzn8-Qcr4_0AcMRwAp4w/s1600/DSC02560.JPG"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5706436489157455154" style="FLOAT: left; MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; WIDTH: 320px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 240px" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgDq-2uTVuJp0vuGAS7dVWbMMaRXFt6MY-kUi4ZP3d9Mx3IMcUOPR3EaSMitk2s_DI81XJoini50j27mSAGRydMuIZyvdErdr96-Z4c8yQVexCjAtshjZNzn8-Qcr4_0AcMRwAp4w/s320/DSC02560.JPG" border="0" /></a><br /><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjfs4QOXkJ-AufjLXIb6_rKBMljBDBmyUJFXlfekU5l8HhizQThkiytFauGa3iOcT06gxANOFP8U28NGrLdlSvFwXRerivSnw0JTf53isGeDGsarfrXEQMleRmQqSpxozl022vEdA/s1600/DSC02561.JPG"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5706436495437504258" style="FLOAT: left; MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; WIDTH: 320px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 240px" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjfs4QOXkJ-AufjLXIb6_rKBMljBDBmyUJFXlfekU5l8HhizQThkiytFauGa3iOcT06gxANOFP8U28NGrLdlSvFwXRerivSnw0JTf53isGeDGsarfrXEQMleRmQqSpxozl022vEdA/s320/DSC02561.JPG" border="0" /></a> </div>Jennyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11794893226884756569noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-19035850.post-2100150099433259222012-01-31T13:34:00.004-07:002012-01-31T13:39:18.038-07:00Playpen<div><br /><div><br /><div>So far everyone is getting along. And the big kids seem to be enjoying the baby toys.</div><br /><div></div></div></div><br /><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEin0Uys-jypqOmJnxZwJblxGTYQuMGTlnRYoOOVlEe6yRx3gQXa-NPOxoIz1uQ55ImdcLjn0NkYnKGzc_uXIbGhFKilUSzxcQP3z10-TXhQYGO7nvgK6ACXguUB4bCfcMAcmAD9VQ/s1600/DSC02490.JPG"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5703898027948725570" style="FLOAT: left; MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; WIDTH: 320px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 240px" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEin0Uys-jypqOmJnxZwJblxGTYQuMGTlnRYoOOVlEe6yRx3gQXa-NPOxoIz1uQ55ImdcLjn0NkYnKGzc_uXIbGhFKilUSzxcQP3z10-TXhQYGO7nvgK6ACXguUB4bCfcMAcmAD9VQ/s320/DSC02490.JPG" border="0" /></a><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEggoOEE-e1cgicWRPwEgpbvquJBcquynM2epyZkNto4cl_0WGgO9laImc3RV1K120lWeBgzzDCJKXs3eyHA31qn_TssxCLZoxhtjZU2jcVsqTpJlTKPhVBL9GfcFEyHiRSrGA9fhw/s1600/DSC02489.JPG"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5703898020928930722" style="FLOAT: left; MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; WIDTH: 320px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 240px" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEggoOEE-e1cgicWRPwEgpbvquJBcquynM2epyZkNto4cl_0WGgO9laImc3RV1K120lWeBgzzDCJKXs3eyHA31qn_TssxCLZoxhtjZU2jcVsqTpJlTKPhVBL9GfcFEyHiRSrGA9fhw/s320/DSC02489.JPG" border="0" /></a><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjgGxhjG4g-wlSg5h45qepZVEmlIkBFgKCTeY91RDFP84KqSmDcT59GlMLKlPS_UdBnL7-lvReOUpUmmFLHiJej9pPsItgYHvZBHc4wu6giMlTsRRv2MB100oA6u2FVXATtjFaQqQ/s1600/DSC02476.JPG"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5703898037773169490" style="FLOAT: left; MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; WIDTH: 320px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 240px" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjgGxhjG4g-wlSg5h45qepZVEmlIkBFgKCTeY91RDFP84KqSmDcT59GlMLKlPS_UdBnL7-lvReOUpUmmFLHiJej9pPsItgYHvZBHc4wu6giMlTsRRv2MB100oA6u2FVXATtjFaQqQ/s320/DSC02476.JPG" border="0" /></a>Jennyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11794893226884756569noreply@blogger.com3