tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-43915755299750229312024-03-05T08:33:27.343-07:00~The Saga of Seven Sisters~With one fantastic Dad, one amazing Mom, and one awesome older brother--we are seven sisters. We are all married. We are all mothers. And we are all members of the Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints. Since there are exactly seven days in a week and seven sisters (isn't that perfect?!?!), we will each take a day, every week, to share a little bit about our lives. Just like you, we are doing the best we can to enjoy this crazy ride! So, read on…it's the Saga of Seven Sisters.Judihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06325783888804014603noreply@blogger.comBlogger155125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4391575529975022931.post-80859857662674810552011-11-04T08:40:00.001-06:002011-11-04T08:41:33.045-06:00Can you handle the little things??...written by JudiYou know all those little things in life (like flossing) that I can't handle? Can you handle the little things? Here are some things I should probably do, but don't...<br />
<br />
1. Brush my teeth gentle and in small circles. When I brush my teeth it is like taking an electric sander to them. I brush hard and fast and every time I go to the dentist they warn my that my enamel is receding. I just can't handle doing it slow.<br />
<br />
2. Taking a daily vitamin. I don't do it. I can't handle worrying about it. (Lets just say I am lucky if I take one while I am pregnant. I just don't remember and don't do it often enough.)<br />
<br />
3. Loading my dishwasher correctly. I make a lot of my food homemade and I produce a ton of dishes. I stuff as many dishes in as possible and then turn it on super hot and call it good. <br />
<br />
4. Washing my clothes in whites and darks. I turn it on cold, throw them in, throw in plenty of soap and go for it. Surprisingly I have never noticed a difference of washing them separate or together. <br />
<br />
(while I am writing this, William (my 3 year old) just said, "Mom, I want to dump out all the Halloween candy!" and I said, "OK"...another little thing I didn't worry about :)<br />
<br />
5. Folding the little kitchen towels. They always get unfolded when they are ripped out of the drawer anyways so now I don't bother folding them and rather stuff them in the bottom drawer, shut the drawer and don't worry another second about it. :)<br />
<br />
OK, those are just a few of the millions of little things that I don't worry about because if I worry about all the little things, some of the big things (like feeding children, playing and hugging, ready stories, and generally living) will not get done. So, if you see me and I look put together and my house is clean and my kids are clean and I am in my Sunday best, just know I haven't done any of the little things. :)<br />
<br />
I might have to pay for a few more cavities to be filled...but at least I will have my sanity and my kids will be loved. Right? <br />
<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgoWImlOXfCBD8aDoNfDminYJUPv4rdiQYt_HAiWwWPBd8U0I8Tr9vf-KRnz33Tf4iy7mCF88HRm3jdLkXE9lasZ113vR4seushLoVixMu-ai6g5xBNNgsWOhYO4LBvM0Y0ihExbwz04GI/s1600/IMG_3803.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="300" ida="true" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgoWImlOXfCBD8aDoNfDminYJUPv4rdiQYt_HAiWwWPBd8U0I8Tr9vf-KRnz33Tf4iy7mCF88HRm3jdLkXE9lasZ113vR4seushLoVixMu-ai6g5xBNNgsWOhYO4LBvM0Y0ihExbwz04GI/s400/IMG_3803.JPG" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Buzz and Woody on Halloween</td></tr>
</tbody></table>Judihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06325783888804014603noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4391575529975022931.post-73452523439983786562011-11-01T09:19:00.003-06:002011-11-01T09:46:18.565-06:00The Chicken or the Egg<div><div>Takin' Time on Tuesdays with Joni</div><div><br /></div>I have not always been the most humble person. Often I have taken pride in things that are not necessarily something I can take credit for. One is my ability to become pregnant. I became pregnant with my first two children without even trying. I often would brag that all I had to do was think that I wanted a baby and POOF, I was pregnant. Then something weird happened and I couldn't get pregnant. I wanted a third child but each month was met with disappointment. Then after a year trying, I finally became pregnant. I was so excited but only a few weeks later discovered I was having a miscarriage. Two more miscarriages later I finally was able to keep my pregnancy. I was so excited to be pregnant again and looked forward to the new wonderful experience of welcoming new life into my life. What I learned in those 2+ years of waiting for a baby was that the ability to conceive and carry a child usually is out of the woman's control. I learned to be very sensitive to others about their own fertility journey. I shouldn't take pride in how quickly I can get pregnant, because really I don't have much control over that.<div><br /></div><div>Though it took me a while to learn humility in fertility, it didn't take more than one child for me to learn humility in the sleeping habits of my children. There is often quoted a saying of, "What came first, the chicken or the egg?" I would like to start my own saying, "What comes first, a bad sleeper or bad sleeping habits?" I am a firm believer that a bad sleeper creates bad sleeping habits. I have had two bad sleepers. From the beginning, they wouldn't nap in a bed. They wouldn't sleep longer than an hour and a half in the night. So what did that create? Bad sleeping habits. At of exhaustion and sleep deprivation, I start sleeping in my bed with my babies. I learned quickly that if I nursed them in my bed and then pull them in close, they sleep longer. I am also able to catch a few extra minutes of sleep while they are eating. I recently read a book about how to get your baby to sleep. Guess what it said? Don't sleep with your baby. Don't nurse them to sleep. I am guilty of both. But I was desperate. I was a walking zombie and needed something to save me. I often hear mothers brag that their child sleeps through the night. This is a badge of honor. I feel like the women take credit for their good sleepers. If a good sleeper means a good mother, what does a bad sleeper mean? I often wanted to punch people in the nose when they said their two week old was already sleeping through the night. My six year old isn't sleeping through the night! But then came my third child. A good sleeper was born and from the beginning we have done good sleeping habits. She sleeps in her own bed. She takes good naps. She sleeps from 10 pm to 5 am almost every night. She is an angel baby. But guess what? I am the same mom! So it proves that the good/bad sleeper comes first and the habits come second! So if you have a bad sleeper and think you are a bad mother, take comfort! You are a good mother. Just punch the next person in the nose who, with a puffed up chest, says, "My child sleeps through the night."</div></div><div><br /></div><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgKlux10Blk3LOq0Cs1bz9C9LSn_3lm3U4Ndz2i0YXZu5XpZBlU9ANtSeMZUaGxxsP_rOcOHw4SCFQ12-OyxGRGWrtIPDIDizD9DWREGAICOoHNyICe4ycC3UBEVNaHaOTI1NtTsTNhywkq/s1600/photo.JPG" onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}"><img style="cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 299px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgKlux10Blk3LOq0Cs1bz9C9LSn_3lm3U4Ndz2i0YXZu5XpZBlU9ANtSeMZUaGxxsP_rOcOHw4SCFQ12-OyxGRGWrtIPDIDizD9DWREGAICOoHNyICe4ycC3UBEVNaHaOTI1NtTsTNhywkq/s400/photo.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5670053542648373042" /></a><div><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgKlux10Blk3LOq0Cs1bz9C9LSn_3lm3U4Ndz2i0YXZu5XpZBlU9ANtSeMZUaGxxsP_rOcOHw4SCFQ12-OyxGRGWrtIPDIDizD9DWREGAICOoHNyICe4ycC3UBEVNaHaOTI1NtTsTNhywkq/s1600/photo.JPG" onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}"></a>Here is my six year old, sleeping with a mask on. This was my attempt to keep her asleep even if someone uses the bathroom or I get up with the baby. Too bad it didn't work. She gets scared with it on, so she won't wear it. <br /><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiZfirNKkVIznfhIkvOtmXG6Nx4GrJqYL2NrKyS_Z23bkg47ZebvwRosJEWshD0yArEKb7yHRGyzZdCdoy98afo0cgvGkYp6TRvy7o1E2i88O1gLJ7zEkgfv1KTZqBN4b5y6NPNVYNJdVO2/s1600/photo-11.JPG" onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}"><img style="cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 299px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiZfirNKkVIznfhIkvOtmXG6Nx4GrJqYL2NrKyS_Z23bkg47ZebvwRosJEWshD0yArEKb7yHRGyzZdCdoy98afo0cgvGkYp6TRvy7o1E2i88O1gLJ7zEkgfv1KTZqBN4b5y6NPNVYNJdVO2/s400/photo-11.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5670053536450144370" /></a></div><div><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiZfirNKkVIznfhIkvOtmXG6Nx4GrJqYL2NrKyS_Z23bkg47ZebvwRosJEWshD0yArEKb7yHRGyzZdCdoy98afo0cgvGkYp6TRvy7o1E2i88O1gLJ7zEkgfv1KTZqBN4b5y6NPNVYNJdVO2/s1600/photo-11.JPG" onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}"></a>This is my son asleep with his face squished to the frame of his bunk bed. He is a crazy sleeper. I find him in many odd positions while he sleeps. <br /><div><br /></div></div>Jaron, Joni, and Familyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07621652479873146151noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4391575529975022931.post-75591150114477662452011-10-14T10:19:00.002-06:002011-10-14T10:19:51.940-06:00Tip-toeing with much Trepidation...written by JudiYou know those moments when life seem perfect? Right now is one of those moments and here is why...<br />
<br />
1. My youngest is getting older. He is saying a few words and he will play with toys by himself and he will watch T.V. (horrible, I know, but I always look forward till the day they can watch t.v. so I can have a FEW minutes of quiet!)<br />
<br />
2. My Oldest just started preschool and is loving it and we are seeing big improvements in attitude and behavior.<br />
<br />
3. My husband likes his job and is generally happy with life<br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiyQiK1pSjZwLkvrCCWbKkZkEPGLCRoJZuX7Jw6tGzoIy0w5lKcyTdfLjRCOay8drZ8xnCtv_GKq4w2_87Kq8IL3puyhRdFzYLzwnwgCWuIwfE9cNvkHWaXhJcjvLHirXGlKN4c-E-4Cak/s1600/IMG_4277.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="267" oda="true" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiyQiK1pSjZwLkvrCCWbKkZkEPGLCRoJZuX7Jw6tGzoIy0w5lKcyTdfLjRCOay8drZ8xnCtv_GKq4w2_87Kq8IL3puyhRdFzYLzwnwgCWuIwfE9cNvkHWaXhJcjvLHirXGlKN4c-E-4Cak/s400/IMG_4277.JPG" width="400" /></a></div>
<div style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none;">
4. I feel strong and healthy and wake up each day rested. So much of having a young baby or being pregnant is dragging yourself through the day and night. Right now, things are very calm and I am happy about it.</div>
<div style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none;">
<br /></div>
<div style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none;">
5. I have the perfect balance between calm, relaxing days and busy, fun days. There is nothing pressing or urgent that I have to do, but I can always find things for us to do if we are bored.</div>
<br />
<div style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none;">
Now here is where the trepidation comes in. I know life can't stay this way. Why do I know this? Life doesn't stand still and here is why I am tiptoeing in this perfect moment.</div>
<div style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none;">
<br /></div>
<div style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none;">
1. I know that as my oldest gets older, inevitably we will get busier. I am sure we will get him into little league sports eventually, school, homework, piano lessons...ect. I watch my sisters and friends and see their lives spiral into a crazy busy turn-table and sit here and think, "Will my life get that crazy???"</div>
<div style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none;">
<br /></div>
<div class="separator" style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none; clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhEDuOEZfJsScCUL1t06KtvoClbkYVAsUD6rU0BP112DTy-rqNGmQXQlO8GmkoWZI8V1UMfCW5Gk6Gzb8-5LJgSshKbXSD2ugFrEkafAialhwipmyU4i-DJrWs8wWljfBaINyj9f8q_Kvg/s1600/IMG_4251.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" oda="true" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhEDuOEZfJsScCUL1t06KtvoClbkYVAsUD6rU0BP112DTy-rqNGmQXQlO8GmkoWZI8V1UMfCW5Gk6Gzb8-5LJgSshKbXSD2ugFrEkafAialhwipmyU4i-DJrWs8wWljfBaINyj9f8q_Kvg/s320/IMG_4251.JPG" width="212" /></a></div>
<div style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none;">
2. I am just about to head into the terrible T's with my youngest. Agest 2 and 3 are difficult and very difficult for a slow talker like he is. He knows what he wants and can't tell me.</div>
<div style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none;">
<br /></div>
<div style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none;">
3. Eventually life will probably call for more children...more pregnancies, more sicknesses, more depressions, more anxieties, more newborns, less sleep, more stress....</div>
<div style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none;">
<br /></div>
<div style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none;">
And lastly, life can't possibly stay this good, can it? Something's gotta give :) And if your life has been full of bad times lately, know that something has gotta give for you the opposite direction. Good times have got to be headed your way. So here's to the good times, the bad times, and the perpetual ebb tide. </div>
<div style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none;">
<br /></div>
<div style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none;">
Just glad I'm living at high tide for the moment. </div>
<div style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none;">
<br /></div>
<div style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none;">
And I know next time I am at low tide, that high tide will be just around the corner. </div>
<br />
<div style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none;">
<br /></div>
And that is why I am tip-toeing with much trepidation in this perfect moment :)<br />
<br />
<br />Judihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06325783888804014603noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4391575529975022931.post-321080347300540292011-10-07T07:00:00.000-06:002011-10-07T07:54:12.979-06:00I HATE changeBy Stalee (one of the lost sisters because I am eight months pregnant and just moved)<br />
<br />
I grew up in the same house for 19 years! Right up to the day I married my husband I lived under the same roof. That street makes me feel so safe and happy to this day. As a young girl I did not ever have the challenge of being the new girl at school. I got to grow up with cousins and familiar surroundings. When I got married I moved next door because my grandma’s house has an apartment on the end of her house. My address had changed a little, but it pretty much felt the same. It was very comforting and I was happy. We lived there for two years and then we moved to Roy which is only five to ten minutes away. For the first time my address did not have Hooper in it. It was the beginning of change in my life. I have moved nine times since then and let me just say I would gladly go back to the days of my childhood. What happened to the days where a family gets to grow up on the same street all their years?<br />
<br />
After two years of transition, my little family has finally landed somewhere a little more permanent. When my husband lost his job two and a half years ago, I had no idea that it would take so long to live a normal life. We went from our own house, to living with my father in law for about five months, to living in my lovely sister Sunee’s basement for a year and a half, to a tiny condo for four months. We finally have our stuff out of storage and live in our own house again. Let me tell you it feels SO good.<br />
<br />
My husband thinks he likes change. The reason I say “thinks” is he plays up the adventure in his mind. He dreams about how better things will be or how happier the change will make us, but then when we finally make the change he hates the “getting used to things” faze. My sister Rindi probably takes the prize of the most extreme mover in our family so far and she once told me it takes a good year to move out of the “getting used to things” faze. <img alt="" border="0" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5660398776680993010" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgLpFqPcNxzgNeu6biLIX3a6T1bGRHaR6InNp9ql7RL46QJhbG3lzmLsge28U5GcevtClYmMEV0n5wgJZon6HFUgtpun05_mWFtho7MXE2xNtrEurTWCfmjo5lLLcP8ALccX850zFgC0mOa/s320/113.JPG" style="cursor: hand; display: block; height: 240px; margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center; width: 320px;" /><br />
<img alt="" border="0" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5660398499505576034" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhsFsxP8z4f1QVyyLrGZWaBi13YsJuJv62boENoJ1sssp6fSHE2JyuK5DP25axHBg1bAHD2NO3AJZsDIv_nbPon6I_AvWBNnHNAFgPFA1holfCkz6Zln4KZW16zuNRlc46b8msYi9y6X5Ef/s320/111.JPG" style="cursor: hand; display: block; height: 240px; margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center; width: 320px;" /><br />
I guess my kids are really getting old because this move has been very hard on them. They started a new school a few weeks ago and boy oh boy it has worn me out. My oldest girl had a sick stomach for pretty much the whole first week because of nerves at school. My second sweet child has had an attitude that I never thought could come out of her. And my youngest, who has a strong will to say the least, cried as I pushed her in the kindergarten class every morning. When I ask them who they play with at recess they say no one we just walk around. It broke my heart to think that they were friendless on the playground. There was one day were all three girls were crying and I wanted to yell, “HELP we are falling apart and I don’t know what to do!!!!”<br />
<br />
What I did was wait….. because that is all I could do. Time is the only cure for change. I even got a call from my husband on his first day at work that I swear could have been one of my girls. Let’s just say there may have been a little fear in his voice. So any of you that love to change things in your life, go right ahead because I am going to sit back and enjoy my year of adjustment and many more years past that, not changing at all! One thing I know for sure is whether you are 5 or 32 it is always hard to be the new kid.staleehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00970571955654705873noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4391575529975022931.post-10883006628756276722011-10-06T08:41:00.002-06:002011-10-06T09:10:11.502-06:00The Angels in my Life<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Verdana, Helvetica, Arial; font-size: medium; "><table cellspacing="1" align="center" width="90%" style="font-size: 8pt; border-collapse: collapse; "><tbody><tr style="font-size: 8pt; color: rgb(51, 51, 51); font-family: Verdana, Helvetica, Arial; "><td style="font-family: Tahoma, Geneva, sans-serif; font-size: 10pt; padding-top: 0px; padding-right: 0px; padding-bottom: 0px; padding-left: 0px; ">I haven't posted since I had my sweet baby and that was two months ago. My day to post is Tuesday. Each week I think, "I will post something on Tuesday." But as it goes with new babies, I don't think about it again until Wednesday. Then I make that same goal for the next week and I forget the next week. So though it is not Tuesday, I am going to post today!<br /><br />I am often bitter when I get sick because it seems a mom never gets to be sick. She still has to cook and clean and take care of the kids even though she doesn't feel well. That is true to a point. There is a point when a mother gets to be sick and that is when she is knocking at death's door.<br /><br /></td></tr><tr style="font-size: 8pt; color: rgb(51, 51, 51); font-family: Verdana, Helvetica, Arial; "><td style="font-family: Tahoma, Geneva, sans-serif; font-size: 10pt; padding-top: 0px; padding-right: 0px; padding-bottom: 0px; padding-left: 0px; ">My kids had sore throats last week so when mine started hurting on Friday night, I thought I was catching the same thing. The kids' sickness had been mild so I wasn't too concerned. By Saturday night I was feeling really sick. By Sunday night I was convinced it was strep throat. My head hurt, my neck hurt, my throat felt like I was swallowing knives, I was shaking all over, I would go from the chills to burning up and then back again, my muscles and bones and joints hurt. I was so sick. I got up Monday morning and was the first to urgent care. They tested me for strep and mono and both came back negative and I was sent home. I got home and went to bed and slept most of the day except to eat and go to the bathroom. By that night I thought I was going to die. I hadn't gotten out of bed all day and watching a movie was too much work. I even had stopped nursing my baby because it took to much energy. I kept wanting to call my mom and ask her to come help me. I was so grateful when she called me early Tuesday morning and said, "I am coming to help!" I didn't even have to ask and she got the message. I am so grateful she came. So here are the angels that helped me this week and are the reason I am among the living.<br /><br />1. My husband - He has been so kind to me since I have been sick. I have been in bed or asleep since Saturday night and he has been so helpful. He has gone to the store many times. He has made me food, taken care of the kids, even gotten up in the night. I am so grateful for my Angel Husband.<br />2. My baby - I love my baby. Monday was definitely my worst day. I barely moved and she just stayed in bed with me and slept. She almost slept for 24 hours straight. I was so grateful to pull her close to me and sleep. She was such a good baby. I love my angel baby.<br />3. Stalee and Judi - When I called Monday morning and waived the help flag both sisters were so willing to help. (I am sure all of my sisters would have helped, but these are the two that live by me.) Stalee took Clark even though she is quite pregnant and didn't even have kids at home to play with him. I am sure he talked her ear off. Thank you Stalee for allowing me to have a quiet house to sleep. It was so nice to sleep without any interruptions. Clark came home very happy and said he had a great day. I love my Angel sisters!<br />4. Mom - Monday night I said, "I need my mom!" I know Jaron was trying his best, but I needed my mom and she came! I didn't even say the words and she knew and she came! Within seconds of her walking through the door, the laundry was started, chicken was simmering in the pot, I was napping and all was well in the world. She served me these last two days and I can't thank her enough. My kids received so much love and attention. They thought it was fun to have grandma here and I got to rest so much. I am also caught up on laundry, house work, dishes, everything! I love my mom so much and am so appreciative of her. Thanks for saving the day. I love my angel mom!<br /><br />I am feeling much better. I am still really sick, but I atleast can sit up and walk and hopefully can resume some of my normal duties. I will still be taking it easy for a few days, but I am definitely much better off thanks to the help of my family. I love you all.<br />Joni</td></tr></tbody></table></span>Jaron, Joni, and Familyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07621652479873146151noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4391575529975022931.post-8076998979251495842011-09-29T21:01:00.001-06:002011-09-29T21:02:02.009-06:00Saved by a book...written by JudiDid I use to have a brain? I am amazed at Women who go back to work after they have children and actually think real thoughts, because frankly, my brain is jello. I am always asking Mike, "How do you spell this? Tell me again how that works? What does that mean?" <br />
<br />
<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjUaboviBtIAL78b49nLQN0cefkXWOkSMeOhrZuUXJhAKW9P9tlLG8fWCPnR5W5l9SyUIakf2eaV5eO9NLWsyQn42cZQzi6L21IZDgKe1HI4Pfej_qatRgNJMfDl2defPb7ubVbVkD82n8/s1600/william+mike+thoams.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="320" kca="true" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjUaboviBtIAL78b49nLQN0cefkXWOkSMeOhrZuUXJhAKW9P9tlLG8fWCPnR5W5l9SyUIakf2eaV5eO9NLWsyQn42cZQzi6L21IZDgKe1HI4Pfej_qatRgNJMfDl2defPb7ubVbVkD82n8/s400/william+mike+thoams.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">I blame my brain-deadness on these cuties!</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<br />
The only time I feel like I am an actual COLLEGE GRADUATE is when I am reading a book. I love to read. Reading transports me to a far away place with romance, mystery, adventure, and fun. I go through reading slumps and forget how much I enjoy reading and then when I pick up a good book again, life improves. <br />
<br />
Right now I am reading "Gone with the Wind" and my thoughts are in Tara with Scaralett and Rhett and Ashley. I am attending balls and wearing hoop skirts and plagued with the Civil War. I think the best part about books is that you get to know the characters thoughts. This makes books better than movies any day. I enjoy knowing how the character thinks and comparing it to how I think. Scaralett and I are complete opposites, and it interests me to see how different we think. <br />
<br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="http://www.austinpost.org/files/articles/annex-leigh-vivien-gone-with-the-wind_01.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="238" kca="true" src="http://www.austinpost.org/files/articles/annex-leigh-vivien-gone-with-the-wind_01.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>
<br />
Do you feel like a ding dong brain? Have you been talking to a toddler all day? Go get a good book...and then tell me what you read because books save my sanity!Judihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06325783888804014603noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4391575529975022931.post-61571937324909899732011-09-16T08:27:00.001-06:002011-09-16T08:27:30.400-06:00Never fully dressed...written by JudiHave you ever heard the saying "Never fully dressed without a smile?" Well, apparently Thomas (my 18 mo. old) hasn't. He has been crying ALL morning. He loves to wear William's clothes and admists crying and tantrums, he brought me Williams dirty clothes from yesterday. In an attempt to "brighten" his mood, I put Williams clothes on him. So here he is at 7:45 a.m., fully dressed in William's dirty clothes with shoes and everything...except he is missing a smile. Would somebody please come to my house and inform Thomas of the saying...<br />
<br />
Thank You,<br />
<br />
Sincerely,<br />
<br />
A Mom who is going crazy with so much crying this early in the morning<br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgdIHgoDhvmGoj5MArWCrw37kjywoAGw5jcyOMljNr-vKjA4xb_5AaOholWa0qqpH3ARHwD-cJ7X-z3MXMnPx0ETGp1TuEmNr0VaTi4NdXSKJCL3K4Y6W-rVlVCIPeYlFU5qyBYwzewo2Q/s1600/IMG_3516.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="300" rba="true" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgdIHgoDhvmGoj5MArWCrw37kjywoAGw5jcyOMljNr-vKjA4xb_5AaOholWa0qqpH3ARHwD-cJ7X-z3MXMnPx0ETGp1TuEmNr0VaTi4NdXSKJCL3K4Y6W-rVlVCIPeYlFU5qyBYwzewo2Q/s400/IMG_3516.JPG" width="400" /></a></div>
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhnBcVzpBhyphenhyphenXxFvPIo9ypvMf3n1rYBSYZF5PLHrcny01iaSFzX7QDtpAM4xzuvnfWXgoLpTiBatFSOHO_iHu1op31aSClnEaYJC9unCp3XYIOWn0P09AdNKffWWIqAeFYDVmsO3a9GK2Aw/s1600/IMG_3517.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="300" rba="true" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhnBcVzpBhyphenhyphenXxFvPIo9ypvMf3n1rYBSYZF5PLHrcny01iaSFzX7QDtpAM4xzuvnfWXgoLpTiBatFSOHO_iHu1op31aSClnEaYJC9unCp3XYIOWn0P09AdNKffWWIqAeFYDVmsO3a9GK2Aw/s400/IMG_3517.JPG" width="400" /></a></div>
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjI-DDZs3ls4ucLxL7tUtzXMYUObfx3pyq41Eq-FXVciqFBs4aBY8Se3gAbrhkLleNdD0hm1YUfBw3lG5N15iVT-lEeFtlG2Z_aJ4Xn7ZCGNvN3bJ7VtQJhyphenhyphenAwcl6xPWSnlzbrbu7UsXas/s1600/IMG_3518.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="300" rba="true" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjI-DDZs3ls4ucLxL7tUtzXMYUObfx3pyq41Eq-FXVciqFBs4aBY8Se3gAbrhkLleNdD0hm1YUfBw3lG5N15iVT-lEeFtlG2Z_aJ4Xn7ZCGNvN3bJ7VtQJhyphenhyphenAwcl6xPWSnlzbrbu7UsXas/s400/IMG_3518.JPG" width="400" /></a></div>
Judihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06325783888804014603noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4391575529975022931.post-7845138063411236992011-09-12T10:28:00.005-06:002011-09-12T10:54:33.650-06:00Loving Vaseline ~ by Rindi<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjAByG0mBLGz2xJcbbFs4-QzV_VOUUxdz99ixLuhwKWHh8ySm1o30Eh5I0KvvvRd1a4MY69JguMfN6d46l6nBgDyI1VTaBs3qUmw-FPlgUN0XZ9Ssy2GMGFVQuzs02ErHeydwdBuQc-u0rP/s1600/vaseline.jpg" onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 400px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjAByG0mBLGz2xJcbbFs4-QzV_VOUUxdz99ixLuhwKWHh8ySm1o30Eh5I0KvvvRd1a4MY69JguMfN6d46l6nBgDyI1VTaBs3qUmw-FPlgUN0XZ9Ssy2GMGFVQuzs02ErHeydwdBuQc-u0rP/s400/vaseline.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5651516179884378242" /></a><br />I grew up on healthy doses of Vaseline applied liberally everywhere and anywhere. Chapped cheeks? Vaseline. Chafing? Vaseline! Diaper Rash? Vaseline. Dry Hands? Vaseline. It was (and still is) my makeup remover and lip gloss. My mom used to buy it in big tubs. (She probably still does!)<div><br /></div><div>My husband (the dermatologist) swears by it also. He recommends it for wound care, dry spots, eczema... He loves it. And I love it. What a perfect couple! I use it every day. Summers in St. George are HOT and dry, and try as I might I am in a constant battle to keep my poor heels from being cracked, ugly messes. My best defense is smothering my feet in <span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_0">Vaseline</span>, putting on my striped fluffy socks and going to bed. (I use this same regimen for my hands in the winter when my knuckles crack and bleed. But ever since Greg told me to NEVER get dish soap on my hands, I haven't had the hand problem quite as bad!) </div><div><br /></div><div>So the other night as I pulled on my socks and settled into bed, I started thinking about how thankful I am for Vaseline. My feet were covered in it. My lips were covered in it. (I have this dry spot on my lip that Greg thinks is a <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_1">pre</span>-cancer and needs to be frozen off. I am a little chicken about it and have yet to go into his office for the actual freezing. For now, Vaseline.) I also had it applied in certain other places that I shall not mention (let's just say "nursing preparation" and pregnancy "itchy" complaints and leave it at that!). I felt totally slimy, but by morning I was nice and moisturized! At least it wasn't in my hair...I have had more than one child completely cover their head with Vaseline! That is a little hard to get out.</div><div><br /></div><div>I guess you could say that I love Vaseline. How could I not? I come from a long line of Vaseline lovers. <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_2">Hmmm</span>....I think my heels could use some right now.... </div><div><br /></div><div>P.S. Here are some "official" uses of Vaseline from their web site! Looks like I could find even more excuses to use it! </div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: rgb(51, 51, 51); font-family: 'Lucida Sans Unicode', Tahoma, Geneva, sans-serif; font-size: 13px; "><ul><li>Vaseline is an effective moisturizer.</li><li>It is used as a key ingredient for conditioners of ethnic hair.</li><li>It is used in pomades to help users sculpt their hair.</li><li>Removes make-up.</li></ul><ul><li>When petroleum jelly is applied under the eyes, and can be used to prevent dirt or sand from irritating the eye.</li><li>Applying Vaseline to lips to helps to protect them from chapping.</li><li>Vaseline helps to prevent windburn by creating a barrier on top of the skin to protect it from the wind.</li><li>Put it on scrapes and cuts to use as a barrier to keep moisture out.</li><li>Make your own vapor rub using Vaseline and combining essential oils such as eucalyptus and mint oil.</li><li>It lubricates psoriasis and eczema prone skin to help get rid of the dry patches.</li><li>When applied thick to the scalp, it eliminates lice by smothering them.</li><li>It helps to heal burns and moisturizes the skin.</li><li>When placed under the nose, Vaseline can help minimize allergies by trapping pollen before it enters the nostrils.</li><li>It helps heal poison ivy lesions.</li></ul></span></div>Rindihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17954506250714279464noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4391575529975022931.post-24185816694354327632011-09-08T21:06:00.000-06:002011-09-08T21:06:52.255-06:00Need Advice? Call one of my sisters!...written by JudiFacebook is reliable right? I mean, if you see something listed on facebook you should definitely believe it. (I just choked as I wrote that lie, but Mike gave me the Heimlich so I am good to go.)<br />
<br />
Anyways, a few days ago I saw that it was National Sisters Week because someone posted on facebook that it was. I didn't even double check to see if it was National Sisters Week, I just believed it. I like to pretend we live in trusting society :)<br />
<br />
So Happy National Sisters Week (see, now you believe it too...because I told you so :)<br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
</div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgcm5ZaXODqVRgUTn-rkGdzPJxcczJsxOtiS_L9AHGRH-8vks0fNj773Id4VCKs72ExAzLcGLXK7cTAeS550rnATi7Ofpesw6cqKzaHpyM9KX4GJK1MapL6W2TK30Y1s4igeshyphenhyphenH5YH7KI/s1600/%252796+Cruise+on+the+beach11.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="268" nba="true" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgcm5ZaXODqVRgUTn-rkGdzPJxcczJsxOtiS_L9AHGRH-8vks0fNj773Id4VCKs72ExAzLcGLXK7cTAeS550rnATi7Ofpesw6cqKzaHpyM9KX4GJK1MapL6W2TK30Y1s4igeshyphenhyphenH5YH7KI/s400/%252796+Cruise+on+the+beach11.jpg" width="400" /></a></div>
<div style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none;">
In honor of "supossed" National Sisters Week, I thought I would say some awesome things about my sisters and sisters in general.</div>
<br />
So here is a tribute to all Sisters, but mostly My Sisters.<br />
<br />
p.s. Can you do a p.s. in the middle of writing instead of the end, because this is an afterthought that I want included in the middle of my post. I just made it official. You are now allowed to do a "p.s." in the middle of your post/letter. Ok. So here's my middle-after-thought. My Dear Grandma Haws passed away last week. She was almost 92 years old and I will miss her always being there. She lived next to me my entire life. She was a great woman. I recently read in her life history book that every day she would wake up and work really hard so that she could get all of her housework done and meet her 5 sisters at her moms house. They would meet every day at 10:00 a.m. and let the kids play while they visited. How fun! Here is a poem that she wrote that they read at her funeral. <br />
<br />
Sisters~<br />
<br />
Dishes and windows can wait till tomorrow,<br />
'Cause time passes by, we have learned to our sorrow.<br />
So, quiet down, cobwebs; dust, go to sleep,<br />
I'm visiting sisters, 'cause sisters don't keep.<br />
<br />
After the funeral, all of my sisters and I gathered around and said, "Hey, we want to meet everyday at 10:00 a.m. and visit!" We were jealous and sad that we don't all live next to each other. We would love to leave our cobwebs and dust and visit sisters! But alas, we can't. We live too far away and we have too many responsibilites. But, we do talk on the phone and keep in touch better than most. One of the best things about having 6 sisters, is that someone can always help you and understand! Advice is just waiting to be given. <br />
<div style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none;">
<br /></div>
<div style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none;">
Here's to leaving our cobwebs and calling on the phone for some much needed advice, comfort, and uplifting conversation. Want to know what I call my sisters to talk about? I knew you would.</div>
<br />
Sunee- I call Sunee when I need to hear a cheery voice and to have someone who is willing to just talk and jabber away. You can always count on Sunee to talk. She is good at talking :) I can also get a lot of sympathy from Sunee because she is ten years ahead of me. She knows what I am going through, because she went through it ten years ago! Sunee is fun!<br />
<br />
Katie- I love Katie. She is hilarious. I love to call Katie when I have a question on anything practical. She will tell you how it is. You have a sinus infection, do this. You can't stand William being so active, do this. Katie knows what she wants and she does just that. I love that! I want to be just like that.<br />
<br />
Rindi- Rindi is my 7 year older twin. We are so similar in so many ways. We mother our children similarly. We both watch a lot of sports center with our husbands. And we both hate being pregnant :) I love to call Rindi and to talk about how we don't know the best way to handle a situation, but oh well, life goes on. We laugh about it and move on. Rindi is awesome.<br />
<br />
Are you still reading? I have a LOT of sisters.<br />
<br />
Stalee- Everybody wants to be Stalee's friend and I will tell you why. Stalee is so real. I feel like I know the real Stalee. She never judges. I can tell her anything and know she will keep it confidential. She is fun and she always uplifts me. I love talking to Stalee (and so does everybody else...sometimes you have to get in line to talk to stalee :)<br />
<br />
Joni- I was always competing with Joni growing up, but I don't try to compete anymore because she surpassed me a long time ago. She is a GREAT mother. Joni doesn't try to correct your faults (and I have many) she just continues to be your friend. She is kind and giving and she has a beautiful new baby (I'm jealous!).<br />
<br />
Millie- I love Millie! Millie keeps me young :) I love to talk gossip (whoops...not gossip. I don't gossip.) Watch chick-flicks. Play games. Do crazy things. Remember good times and learn together. We both have little kids and we are both learning to adjust to life. Hanging out with Millie is like traveling back to more care free days.<br />
<br />
Phew. That was a lot. <br />
<br />
I better get to bed soon so I can get all my jobs done early tomorrow and leave the cobwebs to call my sisters.<br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgq24zj_uZlLrAFUOgUGhci-WDDvz-sRSESMJ_uMhQLV1dvMxgTul36U94I0lCQb70YxYX_Q7SN07HZGMiLduTFn91HfqirznT3GxNvYeW6k3PncHLaDryZXmJT07YQpHTkQJrc5MBs39M/s1600/SevenSisters.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="247" nba="true" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgq24zj_uZlLrAFUOgUGhci-WDDvz-sRSESMJ_uMhQLV1dvMxgTul36U94I0lCQb70YxYX_Q7SN07HZGMiLduTFn91HfqirznT3GxNvYeW6k3PncHLaDryZXmJT07YQpHTkQJrc5MBs39M/s320/SevenSisters.JPG" width="320" /></a></div>
Nothin' better than a sister.Judihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06325783888804014603noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4391575529975022931.post-40584774792207397702011-09-01T20:57:00.000-06:002011-09-01T20:57:58.986-06:00It's the most wonderful time of they year...written by Judi<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/AVvXsEiNjxkfU1sCSTR_OlpP5UZtNakeXTBvnH8VMBmA0Ze5XekZu7i4kGElwaYPUmfcbtN_Ih7Uk2Qk3AMnQr5WbVEZ58rMffH_d0QdzfDYC8ljDJM2p9pRqKE7P25Ikxy6t9nhGQ1EksiqKqY/s1600/BYU+basketball" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="300" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiNjxkfU1sCSTR_OlpP5UZtNakeXTBvnH8VMBmA0Ze5XekZu7i4kGElwaYPUmfcbtN_Ih7Uk2Qk3AMnQr5WbVEZ58rMffH_d0QdzfDYC8ljDJM2p9pRqKE7P25Ikxy6t9nhGQ1EksiqKqY/s400/BYU+basketball" width="400" xaa="true" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">William and me at a BYU basketball game</td></tr>
</tbody></table><div style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none;">No, it's not Christmas. </div><br />
I know that you were hoping it was Christmas. I was hoping it was Christmas. I know William (my 3 year old) was hoping it was Christmas because he asks if it is Christmas about every day. <br />
<br />
But for my dearest husband, today is probably better than Christmas. It is the start of College Football for the season. <br />
<br />
Here's the deal-i-oh (how would you spell that, I have never attempted to spell deal-i-oh before...hmm)<br />
<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj3zUnp_F0nWXngdJQmq1GybFQwjAl2PpkgjoP9l4vN5UHVk7Vliz_M4Sq-9GHKwWbEph1xyYYoG4js_ERNOTTCBfopeF3lhzL2ruQycsY4tPoAcYpOgY2YODDGsKzQg_eA4gUgYmtxFKQ/s1600/Byu+room" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="300" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj3zUnp_F0nWXngdJQmq1GybFQwjAl2PpkgjoP9l4vN5UHVk7Vliz_M4Sq-9GHKwWbEph1xyYYoG4js_ERNOTTCBfopeF3lhzL2ruQycsY4tPoAcYpOgY2YODDGsKzQg_eA4gUgYmtxFKQ/s400/Byu+room" width="400" xaa="true" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Our Boys bedroom all decked out in BYU gear and all of Mike's sports memorabilia</td></tr>
</tbody></table> <div style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none;">When I first met my Husband he informed me that he loved sports, especially college football. I was like, "yeah, I love sports too." Oh if I really knew what he meant. It was sort of like I told Mike when we were dating, Mike, I get headaches, and he looked into my eyes dreamily and said, "You poor thing, I vow to rub your head and take such good care of you when you have a headache." He had no idea that I meant I get such bad migraines that I can't get out of bed and last for days and yada yada yada. (luckily I have almost cured my migraines through changing my diet.) Anyways, back to the moment that Mike informed me that he loved college football. I was so proud to be marrying a true BYU fan through and through that I didn't think another thing of it. Oh boy. I remember one of the first saturdays we were married and we were talking about our weekend plans and I told Mike that on Saturday I was going to head to the library to study for a couple of hours and asked if he wanted to join me. He informed me he had plans. Plans? Yeah, College football lasts ALL day on saturday. Must. Not. Miss. A. Moment! Oh young love :)</div><br />
So through the years we have counted down the days until College Football starts. We have thrown kick-off parties. We have BBQ'd. We have had three T.V.'s set up in our living room to avoid missing any games. We have stood in long lines to get tickets. We have woken up at unnatural hours in order to purchase season tickets as soon as possible. We have worn game-day gear on Fridays and Saturdays. We have collected memorabilia like you wouldn't believe. We have driven late into the night to make it to play-off games. And we have had a BLAST!!!!<br />
<br />
I remember one of my sisters, Stalee giving me some great advice, she told me that when you get married to make your spouses interests your interests and vice-versa. I have loved the excitment of "game-day". And I have loved all the times I have been at a game or watching a game with Mike by my side. His love has become my love. <br />
<br />
<div style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none;">So here's to your team (or your husbands team)! Here's to chips and salsa, marching bands in the background, and lots and lots of touchdowns. </div><div style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none;"><br />
</div><div style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none;"><br />
</div><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/AVvXsEh7RtIbFF4lPYBWxRyGiW-kgW0UcdP2HDuD0kFBdy3IdHzzRtwciE8S_kMWbXZe4DLyu-7geHTTgsEgcFyqJ3rZinxfCJFs0tegiL0fKqf4nxNOjjhAFtpQ8ksl44jq-yMh0Lguar2lqJ0/s1600/william+football" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh7RtIbFF4lPYBWxRyGiW-kgW0UcdP2HDuD0kFBdy3IdHzzRtwciE8S_kMWbXZe4DLyu-7geHTTgsEgcFyqJ3rZinxfCJFs0tegiL0fKqf4nxNOjjhAFtpQ8ksl44jq-yMh0Lguar2lqJ0/s320/william+football" width="320" xaa="true" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">William at a Football super hot football game. </td></tr>
</tbody></table>p.s. Mike always puts us first. He knows sports are just that, sports. In fact, he just came up stairs to watch RIO with william on the first night of college football. Family comes first. But College football is a close second... :) <br />
<br />
p.p.s. He also brought me flowers today. What a sweetheart to bring a peace offering on the start of College Football day :)<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
Judihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06325783888804014603noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4391575529975022931.post-70556634840676353412011-08-25T16:50:00.001-06:002011-08-25T16:55:21.272-06:00I was going to write about....written by JudiI have been thinking all week about what I wanted to write about today. I was going to write about marriage and how important it is (like THE most important thing here on earth) and how we should put more effort into it and not let our marriage become routine and comfortable....and ask for ideas on how to not let that happen... (don't worry, my marriage is fabulous! I just hate how I get sucked into worrying about the kids and forget to think about keeping my marriage fed.)<br />
<br />
<div style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none;">Then I was going to write about all the crazy thoughts I have if I stay up too late. I start to go a little psycho and think things like <em>I am a horrible mother</em>, <em>Thomas is getting picked on all day and crying a lot and William is slightly loco and I am not doing the best job I could</em>, <em>I am lazy and never exercise and am utterly doomed to become rolly polly, I have never looked cute in my entire life, I am the worst wife ever...</em>Are you begging me to stop? Yeah, so was Mike when I was ranting and pouting at 11:00 p.m., funny thing is that I woke up feeling just fine about life. Lesson learned, don't evaluate your life at 11 pm.</div><br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjKHvhGnmui9Jg3qLf_7CdZdPNIZw74LduroU666McrB4UrClmvHhsx2bkaFRHj8EuqAp54Vgj3-BnseXwHrrk5ZJuZ8cnKuPQUqe6lhNvRNInGQAv_hDcMVaR_A-IdN7OuNGdN90NnwGY/s1600/IMG_3475.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" qaa="true" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjKHvhGnmui9Jg3qLf_7CdZdPNIZw74LduroU666McrB4UrClmvHhsx2bkaFRHj8EuqAp54Vgj3-BnseXwHrrk5ZJuZ8cnKuPQUqe6lhNvRNInGQAv_hDcMVaR_A-IdN7OuNGdN90NnwGY/s320/IMG_3475.JPG" width="320" /></a></div><div style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none;">Then I was going to tell you a story about how Thomas fell out of the shopping cart at Michael's and did a front hand spring onto the hard cement (he's ok) and how the store manager came out to talk to me because, well Thomas was standing in the cart which is a big no no. It was rather embarrassing. (This incident may or may not have started my 11 pm rage into my worthiness as a mother!!)</div><br />
Finally I decided to list my top five favorite kids t.v. shows, because all of the other subjects seemed dismal at the moment, and talking about t.v. seemed, well, frivolous and on days like today, I like frivolous. (I just ate a handful of potato chips...so frivolous!)<br />
<br />
Ok, you ready for this.<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhEGFcWUKtEykJlOSE6bgZXtgxq-pjwDwqQ79sGzAK_4ELwyKHwKAnmmwfqw7-jHbMnPewM7Ahiibli-ng6FpD0YboVkdASJsxAu-I2in120ibxwjf1RSSARiQonEXrkVeba_RC_8A1ys0/s1600/sesame.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" qaa="true" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhEGFcWUKtEykJlOSE6bgZXtgxq-pjwDwqQ79sGzAK_4ELwyKHwKAnmmwfqw7-jHbMnPewM7Ahiibli-ng6FpD0YboVkdASJsxAu-I2in120ibxwjf1RSSARiQonEXrkVeba_RC_8A1ys0/s1600/sesame.jpg" /></a></div><div style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none;">1. Sesame Street. It's classic, it's educational, it's cute and I watched it growing up and now am happy to let my kids watch it. I never feel guilty if my kids are watching Sesame Street. </div><div style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none;"><br />
</div>2. Team Umizoomi. Surprised by this one? I think it is cute and I love how it teaches math concepts without you realizing it. The good thing about this one is that Thomas will watch it to. This is the kind of show I turn on if I need a few minutes to think.<br />
<br />
3. Word World. I like how everything is made out of words. It is good to visualize the words into the things that they are. It is clever and on PBS and I like it.<br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none; clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjjISniqg-eCGA24QYOfKNbE9hE4o1g4A8anvkRlMi0ZTIVdqi9iqvqtyAwP8i-aYwI7famx1dG7YOgqRC7zxzO6t2f7GmdvNI0yoYRfVyV0nnPeRDpnpqCb1tuDDhyY51BWkCSzN90VVM/s1600/calliou.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" qaa="true" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjjISniqg-eCGA24QYOfKNbE9hE4o1g4A8anvkRlMi0ZTIVdqi9iqvqtyAwP8i-aYwI7famx1dG7YOgqRC7zxzO6t2f7GmdvNI0yoYRfVyV0nnPeRDpnpqCb1tuDDhyY51BWkCSzN90VVM/s1600/calliou.jpg" /></a></div><div style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none;">4. Calliou. This show is real. I like the way calliou learns and thinks and acts like an actual 4 year old boy would. </div><br />
5. Phineas and Ferb. I know, no educational value to this one, but it is entertaining for me. This is my show of choice if I am going to sit down with the boys and watch something with them. Its funny, its cute and its not shoot-me-in-the-head boring.<br />
<br />
<div style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none;">*disclaimer. We don't watch t.v. all day. And I wish we didn't have a t.v. but without a t.v. how can you watch BYU football?? And lets be honest, the t.v. is nice when I need to do something, like scrub a bathroom. </div><br />
<br />
Pop some Popcorn and let the kids watch Sesame Street and don't feel guilty about it. (And if you do feel guilty about it, don't bring it up to your spouse at 11 pm...it will lead to irrational thinking and he'll be glad if you forget to tell him about your bad mothering moments until the morning!)Judihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06325783888804014603noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4391575529975022931.post-55844078243380444122011-08-24T12:47:00.005-06:002011-08-24T13:36:53.467-06:00School...Hallelujah!<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh11oQ7y-fRELe_Xht_abRot0vX-jsq9GTICu93Ux2Lee-67PxnN_8wztwe9MqJ7waTiqWCj91GBGlN2avK3hd3yGjlS-Yt13xHU_jafzwDLQPGPLkH2QGd2iCI2ywOr-OosrgbYsw76Els/s1600/DSC_0019.JPG" onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 268px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh11oQ7y-fRELe_Xht_abRot0vX-jsq9GTICu93Ux2Lee-67PxnN_8wztwe9MqJ7waTiqWCj91GBGlN2avK3hd3yGjlS-Yt13xHU_jafzwDLQPGPLkH2QGd2iCI2ywOr-OosrgbYsw76Els/s400/DSC_0019.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5644508128280988482" /></a>
<br />Well, we are successfully back in school. At least the kids are anyway, but I'll claim it too since I have to get everyone ready and out the door and help with the reading and homework when they get home. Plus, I have a kindergartener (half-day at our school) which breaks up the day. I have been having so much fun home with Austin alone in the morning. I don't think he and I have had too many alone moments in his life, and we've had fun running errands, going to doctor's appointments and working around the house together. He follows me around and talks to me a lot. It is nice to have some quiet time in the mornings. <div>
<br /></div><div>I normally love having my kids home and around me, but this summer has been hot and long. Being pregnant has thrown a wrench into my normal life. It was difficult keeping everyone entertained, fed, and getting along all summer long. I kept looking forward to school and although it is kind of hard keeping up with schedules, reading, piano, and lunches, I am having the nice change of pace that I was looking forward to. Here are some pictures of my cutie pies on their first day! Yeah for school....Hallelujah!</div><div>
<br /></div>
<br /><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 268px; height: 400px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjGkCsTa7DrILQ6XZLxp2f-DizGDfmc6hd8xBc6Mub7oldARToN96eG7SdWraQyvXCpFBUO7QwW1MBrKjV2Sy9mzf0goPkg7t3Nb2ILyfRK9MK7aic_1pBETPov06YOiYhgNAv2dbFWzz_M/s400/DSC_0013.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5644506651870464946" />
<br /><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjMmziEc204seOWXTyV0JKYmCkd4Ki5_Nh0nUxTVq6T8cOiui4V01YSLFDZ2om02GwxoyFV3UeWnOTkb45-JreNdFgPes5uih78g2vCh-Zll1zMtNBGnwO63gpKrXGd71fx_xnWldBtqpiA/s1600/DSC_0018.jpg" onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 268px; height: 400px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjMmziEc204seOWXTyV0JKYmCkd4Ki5_Nh0nUxTVq6T8cOiui4V01YSLFDZ2om02GwxoyFV3UeWnOTkb45-JreNdFgPes5uih78g2vCh-Zll1zMtNBGnwO63gpKrXGd71fx_xnWldBtqpiA/s400/DSC_0018.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5644506636025457874" /></a>
<br /><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjp2fgHwSKfn0cFNOreFCXUOg5aSmdyHMbqyMpQanGYLuS3YJH9ndzvZ9OIB3ZA_VYDQVrlXKxrJy3sh5ZPcfQu_mNfjL4JoB8qGBbcLA-8l0lciVuD6PPcpzwpIEARsSqRLrtsqgi7dWrI/s1600/DSC_0015.jpg" onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 268px; height: 400px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjp2fgHwSKfn0cFNOreFCXUOg5aSmdyHMbqyMpQanGYLuS3YJH9ndzvZ9OIB3ZA_VYDQVrlXKxrJy3sh5ZPcfQu_mNfjL4JoB8qGBbcLA-8l0lciVuD6PPcpzwpIEARsSqRLrtsqgi7dWrI/s400/DSC_0015.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5644506629493682738" /></a>Austin was so cute. He has worn his backpack every day to take the kids to school! He just can't figure out why everyone else stays at school and he comes home with me! :)
<br /><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgs24ijKwJ3AXo3ydCzfLrwHOTqGr9DuzON50D1H4l4GKMIKeKX8gvZBVrGGFN9tc_KTzsuQii9AQv4wLSZWmbQmUEQT7YL-CyzB1dXJt3Iqs70RoyAEQOKNyhL_tqNqZumRlRyjhv5YTk2/s1600/DSC_0014.jpg" onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 268px; height: 400px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgs24ijKwJ3AXo3ydCzfLrwHOTqGr9DuzON50D1H4l4GKMIKeKX8gvZBVrGGFN9tc_KTzsuQii9AQv4wLSZWmbQmUEQT7YL-CyzB1dXJt3Iqs70RoyAEQOKNyhL_tqNqZumRlRyjhv5YTk2/s400/DSC_0014.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5644506619190690706" /></a>
<br /><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjzbGQajVKJf5TrkVGdLJg66BnjKOfzMrH7KPC8nIXWTX_KZqPMyqtiy2lx79R9Cf47PYUWY3QZNw1Vkjpt7kIt2TCeG_ERHekuuNSZ9f0qcMP3MkpejrcWWnB4nFqI7650l_linnQqc6ys/s1600/DSC_0011.jpg" onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 268px; height: 400px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjzbGQajVKJf5TrkVGdLJg66BnjKOfzMrH7KPC8nIXWTX_KZqPMyqtiy2lx79R9Cf47PYUWY3QZNw1Vkjpt7kIt2TCeG_ERHekuuNSZ9f0qcMP3MkpejrcWWnB4nFqI7650l_linnQqc6ys/s400/DSC_0011.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5644506608968718482" /></a>
<br />Rindihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17954506250714279464noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4391575529975022931.post-64393258181931269642011-08-22T09:42:00.000-06:002011-08-22T09:42:11.622-06:00Back to School<div style="text-align: center;">Well, like Judi I have a little more time and sometimes I enjoy having a creative outlet in blogging, so I think I'll keep writing too! </div><div style="text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: center;">Things have been a little crazy around our house and that's why I haven't written in a while. You want to hear about it? Ok, here's what we've been up too...</div><div style="text-align: center;"><br />
~Finishing the summer semester...lots of tests, projects and reports</div><div style="text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: center;">~Trying to have a summer despite having school, work and all those volunteering hours</div><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/AVvXsEju9XNK9YRU2yFvicmP15uW1qPWgjeqIqdJQJc2UYSdiKIOPG7HSchpArWIJMCbQRYSUvCRKb4ARZirz7pOQIgUXyGEvazhI5VGd9X_QykTM7H4OiCh20fsC3LoVFVF-gjAL598pgy249gq/s1600/005.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEju9XNK9YRU2yFvicmP15uW1qPWgjeqIqdJQJc2UYSdiKIOPG7HSchpArWIJMCbQRYSUvCRKb4ARZirz7pOQIgUXyGEvazhI5VGd9X_QykTM7H4OiCh20fsC3LoVFVF-gjAL598pgy249gq/s320/005.JPG" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Robert and Aurora at the 24th of July parade</td></tr>
</tbody></table><div style="text-align: center;">~Studying for the MCAT and applying to MD and DO schools (goodbye hard earned money!)</div><div style="text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: center;">~Going to the fun Lewis family reunion, and going on lots and lots of 4 wheeler rides!</div><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/AVvXsEipL8cw8VV3agB7C-md62rRGdX4nDUqOHaTOYlzyn-fxte_GSOGM_braiOSI_XmirhxRpTAEwV_QATSWslB4OST0pXrxKWKtFZpaG97fI8tzzaw1MKFZGo1K_jvMc__7ui1174jzA3eEh46/s1600/015.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEipL8cw8VV3agB7C-md62rRGdX4nDUqOHaTOYlzyn-fxte_GSOGM_braiOSI_XmirhxRpTAEwV_QATSWslB4OST0pXrxKWKtFZpaG97fI8tzzaw1MKFZGo1K_jvMc__7ui1174jzA3eEh46/s320/015.JPG" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Me and Aurora waiting for our turn on the 4 wheeler</td></tr>
</tbody></table><div style="text-align: center;">~Working on growing a baby...That's right, if you hadn't heard, Baby #2 is coming our way in February! I've been way sick, so that's probably the real reason for not writing, but oh well!</div><div style="text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: center;">~Last but not least, Robert starting the fall semester! (wait wasn't he just going to school? where was the break?!?)</div><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/AVvXsEgIJZPE1MZ_eMC3u2gJJIL8apt5AmgJRHUMJzR6n3pLPdVFZw61as_-O7vJHfhlX2BgOqEWjbm2mP_3nOQ_RMw83sXshBgTlpEPEsUTv7ZIG_mEXezdAOntZ7je58HhNEXNoMhbvO92tLWS/s1600/019.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgIJZPE1MZ_eMC3u2gJJIL8apt5AmgJRHUMJzR6n3pLPdVFZw61as_-O7vJHfhlX2BgOqEWjbm2mP_3nOQ_RMw83sXshBgTlpEPEsUTv7ZIG_mEXezdAOntZ7je58HhNEXNoMhbvO92tLWS/s320/019.JPG" width="240" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Classic first day pic</td></tr>
</tbody></table><div style="text-align: center;">I hope the first day of school goes well for all of you and your "baby's" no matter how old they are!</div>Milliehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15344211587262584551noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4391575529975022931.post-70981909395339599402011-08-21T21:28:00.002-06:002011-08-21T21:32:56.916-06:00Turns out it was good therapy!So, as you have probably noticed, our blog has well, been suffering. Life is busy and as my sisters get more and more children with demands that need to be taken care of, blogging has been put on the back burner...as it should! I totally believe that blogging can obsess a person and if blogging is interfering with your mothering--or life in general, you probably better take a step back. <br />
<br />
Then there is me. Little old Judi sitting here bored and needing an outlet. Turns out, I actually enjoy writing. It is therapeutic I guess. So, I am going to keep writing. I am sure my sisters will join me when they have time (but if they don't write, know they are doing a fabulous job being mothers to some 28+ children!!!!)<br />
<br />
So read on if you want (I'll be writing), read a good book if you would rather (I love good BOOKS!), or go read Pioneer Woman...she's always good for a few laughs (I dream of being Ree, her life seems romantic :)<br />
<br />
But the saga will live on--my life is always a saga!<br />
<br />
<br />
Judihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06325783888804014603noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4391575529975022931.post-33251754514510822372011-08-12T08:27:00.000-06:002011-08-12T08:27:26.100-06:00Wishing the Days Away...written by JudiI am sure we all do it from time to time...wish the days away. You know how it goes, "I will be happy when this week is over!" "I will be happy when the baby gets his teeth in and cheers up." "I will be happy once this baby is born" "I will be happy when we have our debt payed off." "I will be happy when this class/final is over." "I will be happy when we buy a house." ect. ect. and on and on...<br />
<br />
I just finished reading The Diary of a Young Girl, Anne Frank. What an interesting book (I had read it years ago, but decided to reread it.) She had some great insight for a young girl. Here is the quote that I loved from the book.<br />
<br />
"Riches, prestige, everything can be lost. But the happiness in your own heart can only be dimmed; it will always be there, as long as you live, to make you happy again."<br />
<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhd0fp0ygnPazTs3RJ1gpMLg_RrCCiDllAb59HuXs_CxM8nivD1p44zylFseCrZdeQ4Ey8B0GQ4vevfXlW8BoieSC32OO_-XiJPKqlsKAGwSqYJ2tJjkOfOj5uDnMNro0s6sObrLb0Vvds/s1600/IMG_3506.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="240" naa="true" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhd0fp0ygnPazTs3RJ1gpMLg_RrCCiDllAb59HuXs_CxM8nivD1p44zylFseCrZdeQ4Ey8B0GQ4vevfXlW8BoieSC32OO_-XiJPKqlsKAGwSqYJ2tJjkOfOj5uDnMNro0s6sObrLb0Vvds/s320/IMG_3506.JPG" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Thomas, trying to wish away the days until he was as old and cool as his 3-year-old brother who gets to sit on that cool little chair and go "potty."</td></tr>
</tbody></table>There is one thing that I learned from uncertain and sometimes difficult times, don't wish away the days. Happiness starts today, not next week, not when you can buy a house, not when you pay off that debt, not when the baby is born....<br />
<br />
So, today I will be happy. Today I will live in the moment. I won't wish today away, because TODAY is the day that I get to have William be 3 1/2 years old and Thomas 18 months old, and Mike still in love with me (luckily!) and well, if I start wishing all the days away, there will be NO happiness EVER and misery will overcome me. <br />
<br />
I am wishing you a HAPPY day today and like Anne Frank, I hope your happiness that has been dimmed by something in your life will be reignited today. Happy Friday!<br />
<br />
Judihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06325783888804014603noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4391575529975022931.post-51447006817840176352011-08-05T08:36:00.000-06:002011-08-05T08:36:43.825-06:00All over the place....written by JudiMy thoughts are all over the place this morning. So, put on your seat belt...it's going to be a random post!<br />
<br />
- Are boys (my boys in particular) super active, or am I really going crazy trying to keep up with their adventures for no reason?<br />
<br />
- Do you like to play? I am having a huge aversion to "playing." If I have to hide under a blanket so the Dinosaurs can't find us one more time! I am going to lose it.<br />
<br />
<div style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none;">- Do you like the sound of your own voice?? I can't stand the sound of my own voice. I am glad you are not here in my house so your don't have to hear my voice while singing "5 little ducks" or saying "No William, don't put Daddy's belt around Thomas's neck!" But, the funny thing is, there are some voices I love. For instance, I love when I hear my mom's voice on the phone saying, "How are you doing, Judi?" I love hearing my Dad say, "We are proud of you." I love to hear Mike's (my husband) voice saying "I love you, you look pretty." And I love to hear my boys voices laughing with each other. And, ironically...I am sure MY voice brings comfort to my boys...yeah, hard to believe that one! Who's voice brings you comfort?</div><div style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none;"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEghPqjrsnbxYDnY4NFmZX3oNRb_ULbKPnPCsIoT0sq6pXWH4k2EdR9P7l8EH38r5V4oZ7BXMIOumqDcOhl4TT1CBsXSFV9OGeT9KY9RD9xPydwWUxuTPOWoDtDd2RQ70ozzvLzlGH96vIQ/s1600/IMG_3210.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEghPqjrsnbxYDnY4NFmZX3oNRb_ULbKPnPCsIoT0sq6pXWH4k2EdR9P7l8EH38r5V4oZ7BXMIOumqDcOhl4TT1CBsXSFV9OGeT9KY9RD9xPydwWUxuTPOWoDtDd2RQ70ozzvLzlGH96vIQ/s320/IMG_3210.JPG" t$="true" width="320" /></a></div><div style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none;">- What happens to children as they hit 18 months old and start to approach 2 years old? Do they become possessed by some demon? I remember when William hit this age, I literally thought something was wrong with him and was about to take him in to get tested for some disorder or something. My sisters then informed me that he was just becoming a toddler. I couldn't believe it. Now my sweet little Thomas is not so sweet anymore. I told Mike that if Thomas wasn't so dang cute, I don't know if I could like him at the moment. Tantrums - check! Screaming- check! Hitting-check! Cute-as-a-button-check! I guess I will keep him.</div><br />
<div style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none;">- Lastly, Mike and I have been having long discussions about spiritual preparedness. It is weird because I don't make it to Temple as much as I want to (Thomas will NOT let us leave him with a babysitter...not to mention the closure of the Ogden temple has made it more difficult), I am often tired while saying my prayers, and my scripture study is very, well, interrupted. On one hand I don't feel as spiritual strong as I was in my college (single) days, but on the other hand, I feel closer to heaven than I ever have. This was a weird thing for me until Mike pointed out that I am drawing three lines to heaven right now. Let me explain. Imagine we all have a string tied on top of our heads that go straight to heaven (our connection to heaven), when you are a mother, you get an extra string tied to the top of your head for each of your children. So essentially, I have three strings connecting me to heaven right now. I try to tell myself that my number one objective is my kids and that one day I will get to the temple more and have hours to study the scriptures. Still, in the meantime, it would be nice to have a quiet hour sitting by a river in the woods reading my scriptures uninterrupted. </div><div style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none;"><br />
</div><div style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none;">Whew, I feel better now. Thanks for letting me get that off my chest, and don't judge me for my randomness...ok, go ahead and judge me. I am probably as weird as you think I am! </div><div style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none;"><br />
</div>Happy Friday!Judihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06325783888804014603noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4391575529975022931.post-40503695950087853272011-08-02T07:57:00.000-06:002011-08-02T07:57:09.076-06:00I love my birthday!<div>(This is Judi....I just talked to my mom and Joni had her baby late last night! A healthy baby Girl!!! Yeah for Joni and Baby Girl Allred!!!! She wrote this before she went into labor last night.)<br />
<br />
Takin' Time on Tuesdays with Joni</div><div><br />
</div>Sunday was my birthday and I had a wonderful day. My husband made me pancakes with fresh peaches on top. He kept the kids quiet so I could take a long nap. He made home made ice cream for dessert. He tried so hard to make it so I didn't even have to stand up! My mom also worked hard to give me a good birthday. She made a yummy dinner for everyone and gave me two new pj's for when I am recovering from having a baby and two nightgowns for the new baby. I went to bed feeling so happy with the wonderful day I had enjoyed. The only thing I didn't get was a baby. This whole pregnancy I have said I wanted the baby to come on my birthday. Oh well.<br />
<div><br />
</div><div>As I was thinking about my wonderful day, I started to think about my birthdays over the years. If any of you have summer birthdays, you might have had similar experiences as I have. I have spent very few birthdays at home. It seemed that family trips have often been scheduled over my birthday. I have had a birthday at Lake Powell, Park City, St. Louis, camping, girls camp, and more places I can't think of right now. This could be a sob story of how I never get to have a fun birthday. Quite on the contrary. My amazing mother has tried to make it a fun birthday, no matter where we have been. She has packed my presents, tried to make some dessert, and made sure we sang no matter where we were. I have sung over ding dongs on top of our houseboat. I have played with my new presents on the grass in front of our Park City condo. I remember one time we were at the end of a church history tour. We were all hot and tired in the humid summer of St. Louis. My mom asked what we could do to make my birthday fun and I said to go to a restaurant as a family. So my large clan of a family walked from our hotel, down a busy street, to a diner and had a birthday celebration. With eight kids, a husband, seven son in laws, one daughter in law, and soon to be 25 grandchildren, my mom probably feels like she is always celebrating a birthday. But with all of those birthdays on her calendar, she still takes the time to make sure everyone feels her love and feels special on their day. Thanks mom for 29 great birthdays! I love you</div>Jaron, Joni, and Familyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07621652479873146151noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4391575529975022931.post-54423122897064585792011-07-31T19:11:00.004-06:002011-07-31T19:33:49.897-06:00Short Order Cook!<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEikJy2p9W13fv6yJUpkmpX9jiU_ckqwXgapbggm3yCZSliZeurRUbErTaixk3F3dY-iSAJDxB12FO4APka8tdGgx9h9pCavlhLGIQYpji8vqAKWqCsb4ZUjLg35T-qvr2YjE05L2-k4Fg/s1600/girl+cook.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 100px; height: 141px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEikJy2p9W13fv6yJUpkmpX9jiU_ckqwXgapbggm3yCZSliZeurRUbErTaixk3F3dY-iSAJDxB12FO4APka8tdGgx9h9pCavlhLGIQYpji8vqAKWqCsb4ZUjLg35T-qvr2YjE05L2-k4Fg/s320/girl+cook.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5635694379380231874" /></a><br />I must say I think that I am a pretty good cook. My family all have different eating styles that make my cooking a nightmare. I have terrible headaches and have to eat a special way to keep my headaches under control, Dan has gone to eating almost completely natural, Marlee (7years) is a vegetarian OK really a carbavor because she doesn't eat a ton of vegetables, Sam is just picky and Lizzie my 4 year old is a carnivore and eats mostly meat. I am not sure when we became dinosaurs but this really makes cooking meals hard. Sometimes it is more than I can take. So guess what has happened?.......I don't make great meals anymore. Today I made BBQ chicken with funeral potatoes and blueberry muffins. I am the only one who ate it. Dan had chicken (no sauce), the kids had muffins and I have a lot of potatoes left over. I want my family to be able to eat the way they believe (Marlee doesn't eat meat because she loves animals..etc) but it is making me feel like a bad cook. It makes me tired. So for now I will be a short order cook and not put my energy into big meals that I eat by myself. Pancakes anyone?Katiehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15311639652736224183noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4391575529975022931.post-40233734879488498202011-07-29T08:03:00.001-06:002011-07-29T08:07:20.230-06:00Just Finish Your Test...written by JudiLife is interesting isn't it. One of the more interesting things about Life, is that you often don't appreciate/contemplate/enjoy life enough until you are faced with death. <br />
<br />
A friend from High School passed away last week in a terrible accident. He also happened to be my cousin-in-laws brother. It was extremely tragic. Tyler was such a fabulous person and I have been reliving memories and things that I learned from Tyler in my head this week. I can see him sitting across the room from me in band class playing the clarinet (which he was exceptionally good at). I can see him putting his arm around my shoulders asking how my day was going. I can see him being friends with everyone. The cool kid, the band nerd, the jock ect...<br />
<br />
The one memory/lesson I keep thinking of happened in AP English our senior year of high school. Tyler was very, very smart (he was the valedictorian of a class of around 500 students). He was also a very good writer. AP English was a breeze for him. He always knew the deeper meaning of the poems and stories that we endlessly analyzed (they mostly sounded like gibberish to me). When it got close to the end of the school year, we would take practice AP exams (if you passed the test, you got college credit). Inevitably, Tyler would finish the test first (and always have done wonderfully). I, on the other hand, would usually take most of the allotted time and struggle through all of the writings. When it came time for the final "real" AP test, once again, Tyler finished FIRST and passed with flying colors. I also finished and also passed, but I definitely didn't finish first. <br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiz5MHKMf4qeWsRxZ5YtJIhhW6wnrGsI8Ee5uRk6f8SDpfoFiLEtBp2JvxHg2ApL2ecXWoAHmimVwCyxrLm8oDl7EE5MRVTHd0cffvPmmR23plpQqoePeH9dAtXanZqoJzMfW53BoUEbfw/s1600/flowers.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiz5MHKMf4qeWsRxZ5YtJIhhW6wnrGsI8Ee5uRk6f8SDpfoFiLEtBp2JvxHg2ApL2ecXWoAHmimVwCyxrLm8oDl7EE5MRVTHd0cffvPmmR23plpQqoePeH9dAtXanZqoJzMfW53BoUEbfw/s1600/flowers.jpg" t$="true" /></a></div>As Tyler has now finished his life TEST, I just can't help thinking that similar to AP English, he has finished his test first and I am sure he passed with flying colors. I am still chugging along, taking more time to "analyze" and learn lessons and learn the things I need to learn. Tyler lived a 100 year life in a short 25 years. <br />
<br />
So give yourself a midterm today. How are you doing? Are you plugging along, never giving up, and trying to "PASS" the big "TEST" at the end? I am terribly sad for his family and mourn for their loss, but I am grateful for this chance to be reminded of the <a href="http://lds.org/plan/our-eternal-life?lang=eng">Plan of Salvation</a> and to be reminded of this experience in AP English, and I am going to keep on keeping on with the reminder that I passed the AP test, and I will someday hopefully PASS life's test.<br />
<br />
Thank you Tyler. You were a great person.Judihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06325783888804014603noreply@blogger.com7tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4391575529975022931.post-38744547972013072552011-07-27T15:39:00.003-06:002011-07-27T16:04:25.384-06:00Family Planning! ~by RindiSince I am pregnant with my fifth child, I've been thinking thoughts like these for a while now:<div><br /></div><div>Can I do this again? </div><div>Should I do this again?</div><div>Can I be done after this?</div><div>Is this my last pregnancy?</div><div>(I suppose those are all thoughts better left on the back burner for now!)</div><div><br /></div><div>I have absolutely LOVED having babies. But I have absolutely struggled with pregnancy. I really don't want to do this again....ever. But I've also wondered a lot: <i>How will I know when I am done having children? It will be so sad to be DONE! I love babies! </i>I'm sure I could continue to love quite a few more little babies. Babies are my favorite thing in the world! They are my reward for a long nine months. But I think I've finally figured out how you know when you are getting close to being done having children. You see, after my first baby started to become a toddler, I realized that I had the ability to handle a lot more. In some ways I was bored a lot of the day...so the answer was obvious: another baby! That was so fun, and Greg and I handled baby #2 fabulously. Things were pretty simple, life was fairly ordered and fun. So we made the decision: baby #3. By that point, with three small children I was feeling a little maxed out, but all I needed was a little time for the little ones to grow a bit so that at least one person could buckle their own seatbelt. When that happened, we moved on the baby #4. So fun! We loved him and were very busy keeping up with all four. Upon contemplating another baby, I stopped and thought, "Hmmm, I still have a shred of sanity left, my marriage is hanging in there, I haven't completely collapsed from overwork... I guess I'll have another baby." And now I am 24 weeks pregnant. I think I have lost all sanity. Greg wonders where his "normal" wife has gone, and I am collapsing from overwork most days. I guess that is a good sign that I should be done!</div><div><br /></div><div>So, if you find yourself wondering about more children, just ask yourself: "Have I completely lost it yet?" and if the answer is "No, I'm still holding up okay," then maybe you're ready for another baby! Or maybe I should have stopped when I was hanging onto a shred of sanity! Who knows. I just hope my sanity isn't permanently gone. </div><div>November can't come soon enough! The other day I asked Greg if he thought this pregnancy was going by quickly. He responded, "Time is going fast, but the pregnancy is at a standstill!" Oh, good. I'm glad I'm not the only one stuck in a time warp. But at least quite a few of my sisters are stuck in that same warp. AND...I'm still sane enough to know and remember that a pregnancy eventually does run its course. Even if it doesn't quite feel like it will ever end. </div><div><br /></div><div>Best wishes to Joni. She is so close to being done with this pregnancy and I am so jealous! :) </div>Rindihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17954506250714279464noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4391575529975022931.post-15840297771285089592011-07-26T08:23:00.003-06:002011-07-26T09:42:37.908-06:00Little Boys<div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:Times;font-size:medium;"><b><span style="font-size:130%;color:#008000;">What are little boys made of?<br />"Snips and snails, and puppy dogs tails<br />That's what little boys are made of !"<br />What are little girls made of?<br />"Sugar and spice and all things nice<br />That's what little girls are made of!"</span></b></span><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:Times;font-size:medium;"><b><span style="font-size:130%;color:#008000;"><br /></span></b></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:large;"><b><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:'times new roman';">As this blog site makes it very clear, I grew up with mostly girls around me. My brother JB is 8 years older than me and he is a very nice brother. So in reality, I grew up with practically no idea about boys. I knew hair bows and clothes and crying and hormones. So when I learned I was having a boy (my second) I had no idea what to do with him. How was I going to take care of something I had no idea about. The good thing is, you learn one day at a time. You learn to look at bugs, to throw balls, to allow little hands and faces to get dirty all in the name of discovery. One thing I have learned very quickly is a little boy needs to wrestle. I told my husband the most important thing he can do in a day is to wrestle our son. He is an obedient husband, so when he gets home he gets on the ground and wrestles for a while. When he has had a busy week and hasn't had much time for the kids, my son starts to drive me bonkers! Then I realize he hasn't wrestled for a while. I laughed the other day when both my daughter and son wanted daddy's attention. In one hand Jaron was holding Vienna and lovingly rubbing her and cuddling her. In the other hand he was wrestling, tickling, pushing, shoving, all things involved in wrestling with Clark. It was obvious that girls and boys needed affection from their dad in different ways.</span></b></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:large;"><b><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:'times new roman';"><br /></span></b></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:large;"><b><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:'times new roman';">We often play with a family in our ward. They have a girl whose Vienna's age, 5 years old. Clark, who is four, is often found bothering her. He hits her, chases her, takes her things, all things annoying. Most of our play-dates consist of her coming and telling me what Clark is doing to her. I came home one time so frustrated. In the car I yelled, "Clark, why can't you just leave her alone?" This is his honest answer, "I don't know. I just love her and want to marry her!" I laughed so hard we are lucky that we got home safely. And so it begins. Boys of all times have shown their affection towards girls by being little pests. I love the movies Anne of Green Gables. Near the first of the series Gilbert ends up pulling Anne's braids. Later we find out he wanted her attention and liked her, so why be so mean?</span></b></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:large;"><b><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:'times new roman';"><br /></span></b></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:'times new roman';"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:large;"><b>The other day I went and visited my cousin who is visiting from back east. She has kids my kids age, so we have a lot of fun. Her oldest had pulled out all of the doll toys and had set up the world's greatest nursery. Vienna was having a lot of fun. Soon I noticed the girls screaming. I looked over and both 4 year old boys were taking doll stuff and running away. Why? Why? Why is there something in boys that makes them bother the girls?</b></span></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:'times new roman';"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:large;"><b><br /></b></span></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:'times new roman';"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:large;"><b>All I know is I love my little boy. With all of his roughness and toughness, he is my sweet little guy who gives me the biggest hug and tells me he wants to marry me when he grows up. I am glad I have the</b></span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:Times;font-size:medium;"><b><span style="font-size:130%;color:#008000;">"Snips and snails, and puppy dogs tails" </span><span style="font-size:130%;">in my life because Clark makes me very happy!</span></b></span></div></div><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjv987uOJN0ukjPr7W1xdd2OxQYzcMOSPF_9fT-W5LQZwBVDNTyolEZhCA-nzbzmkFDm0CbQsuq0g_lydEQ91b7crB-lYacrI-rfAKsPrbjdoIl-BbR2zoHUMfMMxm91_2SHMP01c1cLunx/s1600/IMGP0587.JPG" onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}"><img style="cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 300px; height: 400px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjv987uOJN0ukjPr7W1xdd2OxQYzcMOSPF_9fT-W5LQZwBVDNTyolEZhCA-nzbzmkFDm0CbQsuq0g_lydEQ91b7crB-lYacrI-rfAKsPrbjdoIl-BbR2zoHUMfMMxm91_2SHMP01c1cLunx/s400/IMGP0587.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5633686557856403058" /></a><br /><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:Times;color:#008000;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;"><b><br /></b></span></span>Jaron, Joni, and Familyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07621652479873146151noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4391575529975022931.post-74664436614980547022011-07-25T00:30:00.001-06:002011-07-25T00:30:02.202-06:00Make the best of if...by MillieA while ago (I think at the beginning of the summer) my friend <a href="http://thewojos.blogspot.com/">Noelle</a> wrote a blog post about making her apartment the best they could. Her and her husband had made the decision to go to Law School here at the U, which meant that they would be here in the married housing for another three years. They've painted some walls, rearranged and refinished some of their furniture. <br />
<br />
Well around the same time Robert and I were seriously thinking about leaving the Village. (the married housing) We had found a basement apartment and the situation seemed pretty good. We almost left, but then I just couldn't do it. I couldn't face leaving our friends, the court or our ward. I felt like we could do so much good in our ward, whereas in a regular family ward we could just get lost. Well I felt good about the decision to stay, but Robert was pretty upset. Understandably, Robert doesn't love our apartment. He doesn't love how small it is, how we really don't have a kitchen, and how we are soo close to all of our neighbors. He was really looking forward to a back yard, a garage and a bigger apartment. And his social life (me and Aurora) wouldn't be hindered at all. <br />
<br />
Robert is a good man though and realized my concerns were legitimate and he let me make the final decision...and we stayed. I wasn't 100% happy about staying, believe me I had looked forward to a backyard, nice kitchen and hard wood floors, but I knew I would be so lonely there. Luckily Noelle's blog post came at the perfect time. I decided that we should do the same thing. We were going to stay in our apartment, but we were going to make it the best we could. So we deeply cleaned and began a series of projects. <br />
<br />
Our first project was a dresser for Aurora. One of our friends were getting rid of a dresser as they were moving out and we took it. It had been painted different colors several times, and when we got it it was black with stickers that had been ripped off. It wasn't a pretty picture and you could see why they were giving it away for free. We sanded it down and painted it up cute for Aurora's room and now we love it, it's such a cute touch to her room.<br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgs8GPEK5yA_8khxcPtsPRzmP_ZK6fQxeWEk5NPfkUSVhPwL7N4YZN48T2GCezbxdU0QeNWqJ4Wwoodq9iLoft7nLiYpxFppJ3fbnA9q8B8X3S3V7Oh0R1VsdR_sI3gK9e6BNr7jbs5X_T5/s1600/008.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgs8GPEK5yA_8khxcPtsPRzmP_ZK6fQxeWEk5NPfkUSVhPwL7N4YZN48T2GCezbxdU0QeNWqJ4Wwoodq9iLoft7nLiYpxFppJ3fbnA9q8B8X3S3V7Oh0R1VsdR_sI3gK9e6BNr7jbs5X_T5/s320/008.JPG" width="240" /></a></div>The next two projects we're working on is our dresser and desk. We're in the sanding process right now so we only have before pictures. <br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjbmv-DiJrjCZaVL3CliTpcrNIVpq53o4hEoOhs-UyzpFY2CX57NCKklJhzoihdTd_92kbc_Mz9vbccaq-14rXfSEs4PxJHCz_-zgeDRFPHQV5ffkQyatWr3qEQ2y6w4ZGmVpPvdAvODvKG/s1600/001.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjbmv-DiJrjCZaVL3CliTpcrNIVpq53o4hEoOhs-UyzpFY2CX57NCKklJhzoihdTd_92kbc_Mz9vbccaq-14rXfSEs4PxJHCz_-zgeDRFPHQV5ffkQyatWr3qEQ2y6w4ZGmVpPvdAvODvKG/s320/001.JPG" width="240" /></a></div><br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh4EskqKdOdNceSK1QFihpxtiqnmfCC2UxxK9m3kPNNOrtUcNvZruV7blDTYjP1sZIdhI14NKsNYXgREXR2ONXj5oD1k5fTjbWnOZgoUhISj2jKmY1nce3OqXhwkJhLLAnhJl6485B8SLZE/s1600/005.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh4EskqKdOdNceSK1QFihpxtiqnmfCC2UxxK9m3kPNNOrtUcNvZruV7blDTYjP1sZIdhI14NKsNYXgREXR2ONXj5oD1k5fTjbWnOZgoUhISj2jKmY1nce3OqXhwkJhLLAnhJl6485B8SLZE/s320/005.JPG" width="320" /></a></div>The dresser is the same one I had as a child and the veneer on the top has bubbled up and peeled off from years of suckers being set on it. It has been passed around the family for years and now it's made it's way back to me. The desk we got from next to the dumpster. People in the court set things they don't want outside of the dumpster and usually within an hour someone has taken it. We're all pretty desperate for furniture around here. We didn't know who the desk came from until yesterday, when the very same Noelle said they had it before us! They had it for a while and never refinished it so they decided to get rid of it. They had picked it up from the dumpster too. We're going to paint these a stormy blueish color and hopefully they'll look awesome in our navy blue bedroom. <br />
<br />
Of course our bedroom is currently in shambles as the contents of our desk and dresser are piled on the ground, but I'm excited for the new furniture. <br />
<br />
Our last project for our apartment is to repaint the red wall we have in our front room. We had mold over the winter and when the maintenance people came to fix the problem the paint they used dripped all down our wall. So for months we've had white streaks down our red wall. People always ask us if it's on purpose, and no it's not. We have the paint, we're just waiting for the time!<br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiLMmOmxOHaWbmSsGfO0h71DQ-RJrJQ4TtlXLzOt117oMTjGxatCQhQRFn9Mt0jwXOKsHdXL8vEhiLaHcM-wsUacMTOYulaa50b_q8uaX-UBORYrYBGPzl1qoWSSkl6HHXQsAkILWURZL1m/s1600/010.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiLMmOmxOHaWbmSsGfO0h71DQ-RJrJQ4TtlXLzOt117oMTjGxatCQhQRFn9Mt0jwXOKsHdXL8vEhiLaHcM-wsUacMTOYulaa50b_q8uaX-UBORYrYBGPzl1qoWSSkl6HHXQsAkILWURZL1m/s320/010.JPG" width="320" /></a></div><br />
Thanks Noelle for helping me see the bright side of the apartments, I hope our furniture turns out as great as yours. And everyone else, you might not be exactly where you want to be, but make the best of it!<br />
Have a great Monday!<br />
<br />
<div style="text-align: center;"><span style="color: blue;"><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: "Courier New",Courier,monospace;">-Millie</span></span></span></div>Milliehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15344211587262584551noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4391575529975022931.post-32844361442237613242011-07-20T20:53:00.005-06:002011-07-20T21:22:34.745-06:00Grandma is THE BOSS! ~by Rindi<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgozt6Em6BKTN8_htXOxWxrubL4k2IQX7H4n-qqCkqMYNO5o2AK5NQE2_VJ6QFGGgz9_IT47g79mmY8NRcN_PpgOaXgcUCLBfYXvR3_VGNLAsvfVWnc2iO9_M04AFilQv-tXwcSPVaXV9an/s1600/DSC_0014.JPG" onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 268px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgozt6Em6BKTN8_htXOxWxrubL4k2IQX7H4n-qqCkqMYNO5o2AK5NQE2_VJ6QFGGgz9_IT47g79mmY8NRcN_PpgOaXgcUCLBfYXvR3_VGNLAsvfVWnc2iO9_M04AFilQv-tXwcSPVaXV9an/s400/DSC_0014.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5631635710415243442" /></a><span class="Apple-style-span" style=" ;font-size:9.25926px;"><div style="text-align: center;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:large;">Grandma...the boss of cakes!</span></div></span><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style=" ;font-size:9.25926px;"><br /></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;">We had such a fun visit with my in-laws. Grandma put on an all-day activity one of the days: "Cake Boss"! And boy, did she know how to make it fun. She had the kids planning, shopping, baking, designing and decorating for about eight hours! She even did the dishes and cleaned up the kitchen. I was worn out just from watching her, but also filled with gratitude for such a wonderful mother-in-law and grandmother for my children.</span></span><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 268px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEijzdU6ESd9s04GcQ9T_1GFyg9Q5D4Yn5P0g9oPvIuXyPs2wIADkU4-GdiKKtUD-Ok9RGgVmbBbS4rrXpOOVLFSiPnr6qA_u1dRdUHv1FxGhyWK8cVxGhQSSpxBga_MMcdIs3_0XGTMkTKo/s400/DSC_0016.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5631636527660753522" /><div style="text-align: center;"><span class="Apple-style-span"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;">Julia and Emma made these adorable piggy cupcakes.</span></span></div><br /><br /><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEixxykJzHnvB0vTVDq34hBoSTMfaZWYDrxC_GoSmIUirvJXuaeLhu3ize36vAiWFx-Jh-saCF4ScqcJ8z2fHFxGIkXcD49fGq7hrzcw2nMw0UHHrnCuo6p1gIix0f9HOH_l4GQD8HF4cwjE/s1600/DSC_0008.jpg" onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 268px; height: 400px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEixxykJzHnvB0vTVDq34hBoSTMfaZWYDrxC_GoSmIUirvJXuaeLhu3ize36vAiWFx-Jh-saCF4ScqcJ8z2fHFxGIkXcD49fGq7hrzcw2nMw0UHHrnCuo6p1gIix0f9HOH_l4GQD8HF4cwjE/s400/DSC_0008.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5631635696499469778" /></a><div style="text-align: center;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;">Emma hard at work on her soccer ball cake.</span></div><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi9-4eeM-AvpYZNwoa-YKeo6jzYKyAD-Ahr92oFQQfWTogMs0RiBrCaWdPToKt3UBHjyB96YVKjZgSCy9qLGP6NTR3EPy9UwNcUwFo0qzniP9iSTNuuLFMew3iFtdaZvAtBBz0seqCIGRBo/s1600/DSC_0007.jpg" onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 268px; height: 400px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi9-4eeM-AvpYZNwoa-YKeo6jzYKyAD-Ahr92oFQQfWTogMs0RiBrCaWdPToKt3UBHjyB96YVKjZgSCy9qLGP6NTR3EPy9UwNcUwFo0qzniP9iSTNuuLFMew3iFtdaZvAtBBz0seqCIGRBo/s400/DSC_0007.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5631635689483749202" /></a>Austin was thrilled beyond compare with his golf cake (aka rice krispie treat putting green).<br /><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj3n61QeEIhPR-6buN5G2KjJOM06BoBgutkNUzoYb0znJ3TgVlhfMf7Bq9VCwdYpYESJwnbz61XCHFnW8NVCNMDuebSWkhK7cpQcQcXGN_DDx9cAIkEuuq2oIpxOIWeMq60OxU6hfGx5j9o/s1600/DSC_0006.JPG" onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 268px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj3n61QeEIhPR-6buN5G2KjJOM06BoBgutkNUzoYb0znJ3TgVlhfMf7Bq9VCwdYpYESJwnbz61XCHFnW8NVCNMDuebSWkhK7cpQcQcXGN_DDx9cAIkEuuq2oIpxOIWeMq60OxU6hfGx5j9o/s400/DSC_0006.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5631635684170456098" /></a>Miles made an awesome shark cake. He is SO into ocean animals. This was the perfect cake for him!</div><div><br /></div><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgEi9rurA3emQp1mA1rUcyuR_5j1jChYep9LUD67gQWPvnqBcx_ZIcHX4FrekjmXUQ5MXJPadJcgKqT3P8J1oVR2DZktjDoZU8XJcdyap2FLoDK5pOA8en4vLXRvXLODOdGKre4XPkLSRLH/s1600/DSC_0013.JPG" onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 268px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgEi9rurA3emQp1mA1rUcyuR_5j1jChYep9LUD67gQWPvnqBcx_ZIcHX4FrekjmXUQ5MXJPadJcgKqT3P8J1oVR2DZktjDoZU8XJcdyap2FLoDK5pOA8en4vLXRvXLODOdGKre4XPkLSRLH/s400/DSC_0013.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5631635706783962962" /></a><div><div style="text-align: center;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium; ">Julia made such a darling monkey cake!</span></div><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgIT3IrIaz2lgPg67SomHHlJu9h7xwQE2r4ZVEf362n1h0NIBixxB9t4ovHK4t4VZLxjusMfdX_3XGrqnQ6auWDAx3S2rfgUw5xLCJspHR2TUoswfmC3FoD7Ez76sDxzRV79M-lgpWx7A1R/s1600/DSC_0015.JPG" onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}"><img style="text-align: left;display: block; margin-top: 0px; margin-right: auto; margin-bottom: 10px; margin-left: auto; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 268px; " src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgIT3IrIaz2lgPg67SomHHlJu9h7xwQE2r4ZVEf362n1h0NIBixxB9t4ovHK4t4VZLxjusMfdX_3XGrqnQ6auWDAx3S2rfgUw5xLCJspHR2TUoswfmC3FoD7Ez76sDxzRV79M-lgpWx7A1R/s400/DSC_0015.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5631636522562223186" /></a><div style="text-align: center;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;">The row of finished products. Wow!</span></div></div><div style="text-align: center;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"><br /></span></div><div style="text-align: center;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;">Thanks, Grandma! I think we have been on a sugar high ever since, but we will never forget this fun, fun day! </span></div><div style="text-align: center;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"><br /></span></div>Rindihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17954506250714279464noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4391575529975022931.post-2243175682000175172011-07-19T10:23:00.002-06:002011-07-19T11:24:07.279-06:00Snap ShotsTakin Time on Tuesdays with Joni<span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space:pre"> </span><div><span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space:pre"><br /></span></div><div><span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space:pre">I</span>f you don't know, I manage storage units. Our apartment is above the office and for 3 1/2 hours a day, my children and I work in the office. It is a really nice situation because I can help the family financially but I get to have my children with me. Most days are pretty typical: taking payments, signing people up, etc. Other days are quite eventful. This last week I had the pleasure of being yelled at by a very mean person. He is always late on his rent yet he blames us for not waiving his late fee each month. This month, he called and was really rude to me. After he hung up on me, he called back many times. I didn't pick up because I didn't want to hear him yelling at me. He left a very unkind voice message. Instead of criticizing our company's policy, he criticized me. He said I have no compassion and I am trying to make this world a worse place. After I heard that message, I was quite hurt. How does he know if I have compassion. How does he know how I am contributing to the world. He thinks that speaking to me for 3 minutes every month, where he is mostly yelling, makes him an expert on who I am? Does he know that I spend all of my time loving my two sweet children? Does he know I am working hard on raising them to be kind and honest people? Does he know that I try to have a nice dinner every night for my hard working husband? Does he know I serve in my church? Does he know that I pray each day for patience and try to speak kindly? Does he know that I am just a very large pregnant woman who is trying to help my family make ends meet? Does he have a clue what hardships I have been through and how they help me to show compassion to others? Does he know anything about me? He knows that I don't want to lose my job, so I follow company policy. Because of that, he thinks he has me figured out. Well, he is wrong.</div><div><br /></div><div>This has made me think about how we all are probably guilty of making judgments about people even though we have only seen snapshots of their life. We think we have someone figured out by the clothes they wear, the attitude they are showing at that moment, or how clean their house is. In most cases, our judgments are probably incorrect. I once moved into a new area and there was a girl who went to my church. Her and her husband sat on the front row in a loving embrace the entire service. In class, she raised her hand and commented all through out the lesson. She could have had a label of "Mrs. Perfect" and I couldn't stand her. Then I was assigned to visit her each month. I was so upset that someone I couldn't stand was someone I had to become friends with. So I did my duty and went to her house. After a few months, I started to see a different side of her. Her marriage was on the verge of breaking up. At times, she had kicked her husband out. Her son, from complications of a home birth, didn't have enough oxygen at birth and would be mentally slow for the rest of his life. She was going back to school so she could have a career if she needed. Her life was pretty hard. She actually became one of my closest friends while we lived there. I was so grateful that my first impressions were so wrong. I got to know the wonderful person she really was and to love her for it. My snap shots into her life were not even close to reality. How wrong I was to judge.</div><div><br /></div><div>At my family reunion this last month I heard a quote and I am not even sure who said it. But someone said that their motto is to think that everyone is doing the best they can with what they have. If we gave each-other the benefit of the doubt, there would be more love and kindness in the world. So I say to that man who so wrongly accused me of no compassion and for making the world a worse place, "You have no idea who I am, what I am dealing with, and how hard I am trying, and I have no idea what you are dealing with. Life must be pretty hard for you to yell at me over $12 each month. So I will not judge you for the snap shot I see of you each month, cause it ain't a pretty picture!" I hope that I will learn from this lesson and be a kinder, nicer, loving person. Because I do want to make the world a better place, even if that is just my small world.</div>Jaron, Joni, and Familyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07621652479873146151noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4391575529975022931.post-70206037784234381922011-07-18T09:19:00.001-06:002011-07-24T19:12:07.430-06:00What a baby! by Millie<div style="text-align: center;">The other day I heard Robert from Aurora's room saying, "Help! Help!" </div><div style="text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: center;">I walked in and this is what I found...</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhdjGQke1qP8XuoPN37Cr9umAwanjYSILHnQGLtAD9GBu1C3nvy0Oc5kATBfJkKdQwjDYzZaERWtrUImbisARvpCLGIsC4-CGt6C1c7p8xrmJsoan06YmOxpBTWl9jviiFw8da77ylFpc-U/s1600/034.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhdjGQke1qP8XuoPN37Cr9umAwanjYSILHnQGLtAD9GBu1C3nvy0Oc5kATBfJkKdQwjDYzZaERWtrUImbisARvpCLGIsC4-CGt6C1c7p8xrmJsoan06YmOxpBTWl9jviiFw8da77ylFpc-U/s320/034.JPG" width="320" /></a></div><div style="text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: center;">He said Aurora locked him in a prison and he can't get out.</div><div style="text-align: center;">Then he added that the crib's mattress was really comfortable.</div><div style="text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: center;">I said, "good, stay in there and break the crib!"</div><div style="text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: center;">I really want a new one, the one we have is really old and came from Rindi's mother-in-law. It has a drop down side and it's really rickety. </div><div style="text-align: center;"></div><div style="text-align: center;">Sadly the crib is not broken, but at least Aurora has a really good friend in her daddy. </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjeXRFh9vhlGVl7OrIDXBK0BOkIeAZv3U4AnME9tNRGLy21dEW6hNotdEnnPRLbhM_O_H2Z5iC9Si_MaIlcsa5Tg_6YupH8Czi3lA_HvYlt5_Fook9S3ZAtMA6pZEA7wj-Xkzaj7OSbBzfY/s1600/037.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjeXRFh9vhlGVl7OrIDXBK0BOkIeAZv3U4AnME9tNRGLy21dEW6hNotdEnnPRLbhM_O_H2Z5iC9Si_MaIlcsa5Tg_6YupH8Czi3lA_HvYlt5_Fook9S3ZAtMA6pZEA7wj-Xkzaj7OSbBzfY/s320/037.JPG" width="320" /></a></div><div style="text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: center;">Even if his ideas are a little crazy sometimes.</div><div style="text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: center;"><span style="background-color: blue;"><span style="background-color: white;"><span style="font-family: "Courier New",Courier,monospace;"><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="color: blue;">-Millie</span></span></span></span></span></div>Milliehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15344211587262584551noreply@blogger.com0