tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-57743219018615236962024-03-05T07:42:09.162-05:00SeasonsKristenhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02783336573869551139noreply@blogger.comBlogger101125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5774321901861523696.post-945670924710850032012-04-30T14:03:00.000-04:002012-04-30T14:04:47.114-04:00Our HarvestWhen my parents went on their honeymoon, they made an interesting purchase of a large quantity of "church" books. My father always loved to read, and I think he felt like this was an important part to the beginning of their family--to have a library of quality books for his home. Over the years they have added to that collection bit by bit, and as I have gone through them one of my favorites has always been a book of poetry by Carol Lynn Pearson. My very favorite poem in the book has always been "My Harvest." I remember first reading it around 10 or 12 and being so impressed with how she expressed her feelings in a way that would mean so much to some families, even if it it was something I would probably never relate to.<br />
<br />
<b>My Harvest</b><br />
I did not plant you, true.<br />
But when the season is done,<br />
When the alternative prayers for sun<br />
and for rain are counted,<br />
When the pain of weeding<br />
And the pride of watching are through,<br />
Then I will hold you high,<br />
A shining leaf above the thousand seeds grown wild.<br />
Not my planting,<br />
But, by heaven,<br />
My harvest-<br />
My own child.<br />
<br />
Oh how the tables always turn. Decades later I find myself waiting anxiously for a baby to be a part of our family through adoption. We are hopeful it will be in the next week or two, and I can hardly stand the wait. I have faith that my Heavenly Father has a child that He has always intended to be a part of our family, just not through typical means. And we are so hopeful that this little boy will be the one. We know that so much incredible joy will be brought our family, but we also recognize the grieving process that it will bring to the birthmom. If you are reading this, please pray for us and also for her, that no matter what we will all be blessed with peace. We'll let you know how it goes. :)<br />
<br />Kristenhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15523476619427356532noreply@blogger.com7tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5774321901861523696.post-77822444576925711662012-04-13T09:35:00.003-04:002012-04-13T09:38:02.422-04:00March MadnessYou may think this post will be all about basketball, but you'd be wrong. When I decided to marry Adam, the choice was made with the knowledge that in the month of March I would have to share much of my husband with the NCAA Basketball Tournament. After a few years of marriage, I have learned there is probably a great reason why March also happens to be National Craft Month. At least we can be in the same room together, right?<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhe482qVd73gMTYcoP2FNXsXHiHucjOyg935fN0SyowE2FWbVWePNniwRixJ230Ic3dHLSXxh6iXP3sMJ5yGWezHEWMn6-IZBVRaXSW9D8RkojTwFCnqZOrES9htdQdq4roR_jRIVQRPbk/s1600/peacock+leaf+bag.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhe482qVd73gMTYcoP2FNXsXHiHucjOyg935fN0SyowE2FWbVWePNniwRixJ230Ic3dHLSXxh6iXP3sMJ5yGWezHEWMn6-IZBVRaXSW9D8RkojTwFCnqZOrES9htdQdq4roR_jRIVQRPbk/s400/peacock+leaf+bag.jpg" width="400" /></a></div>
This was one of my favorite creations during March. I saw something similar on Pinterest that was pink applique. However, since I have a felt addiction, I just found a few cute colors at JoAnn's and went to work. I cut out a leaf shape as a pattern, traced and cut out all the leaves, and then sewed them to the bag. I got the bag at Hobby Lobby for a few bucks and I think the total cost was about $3 for the whole project. I love these colors, and it is just in time for summer!!Kristenhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15523476619427356532noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5774321901861523696.post-58412418316600885322012-04-13T09:18:00.000-04:002012-04-13T09:19:35.838-04:00Little Surprises<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhmpIHCglGEP5hkNd2hvVW6J0xjOIHz0HWUXh8-BFaBpUn6EPQfZYCnGLpReZTyXVkhhBkhZl0XKniwwfxf52kFZUk4YWAcWaZbxUvU0aACOrPQIGWqVeqnujlrLZWnq9vMpWOsIP0-8dM/s1600/Grocery+Cart+Shoe.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhmpIHCglGEP5hkNd2hvVW6J0xjOIHz0HWUXh8-BFaBpUn6EPQfZYCnGLpReZTyXVkhhBkhZl0XKniwwfxf52kFZUk4YWAcWaZbxUvU0aACOrPQIGWqVeqnujlrLZWnq9vMpWOsIP0-8dM/s640/Grocery+Cart+Shoe.jpg" width="380" /></a></div>
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Guess what my phone was FULL of after our shopping trip? </div>
<br />Kristenhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15523476619427356532noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5774321901861523696.post-52791296255144886572012-04-13T09:10:00.000-04:002012-04-13T09:18:50.383-04:00Spring Breakin' It<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiWNvmVJeSoD2PFaftEAEfQQdA9Bc_UhWGwcgV-VbYUQ1BRpjGyBhliDsa7AnxsZBi3iHEF3YkmfgTWC1Q5d-JoLGfWwIisEspTFd27Ud4rfAKZHj_9YOdSUIHZvFVI101oUcX754uNCBo/s1600/Connor+at+Happy+Hour.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiWNvmVJeSoD2PFaftEAEfQQdA9Bc_UhWGwcgV-VbYUQ1BRpjGyBhliDsa7AnxsZBi3iHEF3YkmfgTWC1Q5d-JoLGfWwIisEspTFd27Ud4rfAKZHj_9YOdSUIHZvFVI101oUcX754uNCBo/s400/Connor+at+Happy+Hour.jpg" width="400" /></a></div>
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Nothing says "chillax" (C's word of choice) like a Sonic Watermelon Slush during Happy Hour. Perfect treat after 3 hours at the park. </div>
<br />Kristenhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15523476619427356532noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5774321901861523696.post-40470939283013559822012-01-13T14:06:00.001-05:002012-01-13T14:06:48.365-05:00What Do You Do When It's Cold Outside?<div><p>A friend asked me the other day how I got all my Valentine's Day decorations.  The truth is it's just too cold in January for me to want to go anywhere so I sit inside and craft.  This banner is my latest addition. (Thank you, Pinterest, for feeding my craft addiction.)</p>
<br/><img src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi9jIiodYRsGHcqQ-od_6GkoqU9uWJWxdhXbrNsxhD9Ms9mHIdphPIPZFEiIetzVmkcEIRZpJriyDVNa3UvpC1r84h-z-PJkBB2wPhrcA8qX_7rtsxVydHWZyywjmoT_xune2R28f8Lk8LF/' /></div>Kristenhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02783336573869551139noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5774321901861523696.post-86140608002504683902011-09-03T18:03:00.000-04:002011-09-03T18:03:10.451-04:00C Turns the Big 5This week our little C turned five. He woke up on the morning of his birthday and told me he was really glad he was five now because it was hard to hold down a finger for four. I told him he actually didn't have to hold up any fingers and could just say the number, and he has really latched on to that idea. :)<br />
When asked what kind of birthday party he wanted, he promptly answered, "CARS!" (referring to the movie). Though this theme is a bit commercialized, we felt it was more important to give him what he wanted. And I think he was happy...<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEheN1LfqueXKzOcfp_k4PN7l5svT1rpoOsAgL-_UTgGmFqcHOzUq5bclsOG24llu5ENhKnffohURbnBTbxZpVryJUf5cMGI0PO-0Jj8iQvrVsd8wGG32FGcXcTyMgcWwjjazXjDV5-Tk18z/s1600/100_3638.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEheN1LfqueXKzOcfp_k4PN7l5svT1rpoOsAgL-_UTgGmFqcHOzUq5bclsOG24llu5ENhKnffohURbnBTbxZpVryJUf5cMGI0PO-0Jj8iQvrVsd8wGG32FGcXcTyMgcWwjjazXjDV5-Tk18z/s320/100_3638.JPG" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Saw this idea on a blog, and it turned out to be pretty easy.</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgb-fJNd4VQJRADBvw3dv5fEIA4zWQHlhs-TmF24HPWan5GtILRPEY3F-uWNqVnyZ_P-D-W8qWZ6qA9QSaRUi0lNi5yNu_FzvAuBFkrpLW5OnpUSphiuA91B0FF1If7HSjkQSmTUV0cidRu/s1600/100_3616.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgb-fJNd4VQJRADBvw3dv5fEIA4zWQHlhs-TmF24HPWan5GtILRPEY3F-uWNqVnyZ_P-D-W8qWZ6qA9QSaRUi0lNi5yNu_FzvAuBFkrpLW5OnpUSphiuA91B0FF1If7HSjkQSmTUV0cidRu/s320/100_3616.JPG" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Pin the wheel on Lightning McQueen</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgkCaTFqTigqP6gXPRnUs_30UvLPYwQUcwgCJc2kojabaF3qTDT-VUKX71x_tlJ7BVJOwbiF0LpVQUpJH5skUMukx3r0T3Wqn07-BoHwmqYCl_QeTiHrAitV1j0jAdEXyeJVinsan2ugo19/s1600/100_3620.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgkCaTFqTigqP6gXPRnUs_30UvLPYwQUcwgCJc2kojabaF3qTDT-VUKX71x_tlJ7BVJOwbiF0LpVQUpJH5skUMukx3r0T3Wqn07-BoHwmqYCl_QeTiHrAitV1j0jAdEXyeJVinsan2ugo19/s320/100_3620.JPG" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">License Plate Craft (materials from the Dollar Store!)</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiCqbBxt9jSoMzPZI1oHCnuvk7mVGwm5qj6SeAda1xaFIVJKJNoclRN41LBD31MhotPR6P7V53fL_BfgeR8W-tPeMbGxzvkBiKGmPgja-4_hdWCycsyE0LdBvoy_5QzloYlbYaYgZ8b_10x/s1600/100_3565.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiCqbBxt9jSoMzPZI1oHCnuvk7mVGwm5qj6SeAda1xaFIVJKJNoclRN41LBD31MhotPR6P7V53fL_BfgeR8W-tPeMbGxzvkBiKGmPgja-4_hdWCycsyE0LdBvoy_5QzloYlbYaYgZ8b_10x/s320/100_3565.JPG" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Mater and Lightning McQueen Relay Races</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg0wPFb-GcpXzUg9F7qhdIQHEUrAHY7MwLy4ZuDQRTI3d-muSBniembkrxAwcJQJeBZ9g_renR4BwwbNULqqLzqOBrsz633g4o8Pnmy-lln24xHiPRDRNW3Vo-tQxKlkjRyWD01IZwxwmWC/s1600/100_3575.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg0wPFb-GcpXzUg9F7qhdIQHEUrAHY7MwLy4ZuDQRTI3d-muSBniembkrxAwcJQJeBZ9g_renR4BwwbNULqqLzqOBrsz633g4o8Pnmy-lln24xHiPRDRNW3Vo-tQxKlkjRyWD01IZwxwmWC/s320/100_3575.JPG" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">I've never seen a group of kids line up as fast as these kids did when they found out they could get inside him to race.</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgcCvYVXxYBm-vykivn1tVNIXOyv4p-mtR6LXwudOLJwIUtczJC5OTeo9Mxvdi3nPg0Y-YICC9eBJBTPIZGB-9jLUobEa49TSWg_e0cM3WChRQkxWvf-8z4c0VMkx4AJMkWU5EK1hnJhylV/s1600/100_3649.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgcCvYVXxYBm-vykivn1tVNIXOyv4p-mtR6LXwudOLJwIUtczJC5OTeo9Mxvdi3nPg0Y-YICC9eBJBTPIZGB-9jLUobEa49TSWg_e0cM3WChRQkxWvf-8z4c0VMkx4AJMkWU5EK1hnJhylV/s320/100_3649.JPG" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">And of course Mater was full wheelchair accessible. It wrapped around back of C's power chair.</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiaQOR0ElPy58UImLBo5Vk9q_SRrx7COalDz0m8lhTcyDYx4PkBTOyX7WO9hNU4FpwOWPkQPY3EJQ5eVY1iLB3LSjLb000Zft6VKsL4ewcAjh5bZUt-EYpWjJL3hX8o5akTpwDrlQpqBNwV/s1600/100_3584.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiaQOR0ElPy58UImLBo5Vk9q_SRrx7COalDz0m8lhTcyDYx4PkBTOyX7WO9hNU4FpwOWPkQPY3EJQ5eVY1iLB3LSjLb000Zft6VKsL4ewcAjh5bZUt-EYpWjJL3hX8o5akTpwDrlQpqBNwV/s320/100_3584.JPG" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Pizza, watermelon, root beer, and CARS cupcakes!</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg5FuPl8VNEryVzRHGCpBYBFGdIORsrcQcihNzCa4BLjeDOtVcnDYAkqAOkt_eYoX9TshDNrItAiRjCf42lSOHbsnHz_2tZ-oKYOrupR_cpr_RODpQu9TXAih8vrlvILvxmbUBpahjQcLa8/s1600/100_3609.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg5FuPl8VNEryVzRHGCpBYBFGdIORsrcQcihNzCa4BLjeDOtVcnDYAkqAOkt_eYoX9TshDNrItAiRjCf42lSOHbsnHz_2tZ-oKYOrupR_cpr_RODpQu9TXAih8vrlvILvxmbUBpahjQcLa8/s320/100_3609.JPG" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">C and his friend E even had the same CARS t-shirt. This is their "silly face" picture.</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiyMvnfS1SnTJUJf2OvuGfPeJ4VJ57yYfAa7F4jfiBvhtxvDwybps8pJtmYXzq4ShTTuCjAXpwZ5PoKRCEVUQZo3P65pw1OglATBA_gdNApkjbn4KCyURCoEC1ga_0OyCzRlCv6_woIGk5L/s1600/100_3556.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiyMvnfS1SnTJUJf2OvuGfPeJ4VJ57yYfAa7F4jfiBvhtxvDwybps8pJtmYXzq4ShTTuCjAXpwZ5PoKRCEVUQZo3P65pw1OglATBA_gdNApkjbn4KCyURCoEC1ga_0OyCzRlCv6_woIGk5L/s320/100_3556.JPG" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Goodie Bags to say "Thank you!"<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"> </span></td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjaxXDka81FHXkw2UhKjwJMpx2EbZb616r1Rd8G9ko2djhYgyvxGkp51pcjM8nFmvmkxoqAaYc3cC-sSKVNaRUrZnAXB8CER2YGtrrf4MdDC57INiC89cyZ0FVn6bzNOoYU5s_Z67WqI9ue/s1600/100_3658.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjaxXDka81FHXkw2UhKjwJMpx2EbZb616r1Rd8G9ko2djhYgyvxGkp51pcjM8nFmvmkxoqAaYc3cC-sSKVNaRUrZnAXB8CER2YGtrrf4MdDC57INiC89cyZ0FVn6bzNOoYU5s_Z67WqI9ue/s320/100_3658.JPG" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
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His little smile at the end made the prep time totally worth it. He said, "Mom, this is the best birthday party I've ever been to in my whole life." Such a sweet boy--he always melts my heart. He almost makes me want to do it all over again tomorrow. Almost.<br /><br />Kristenhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02783336573869551139noreply@blogger.com5tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5774321901861523696.post-49155655873194604172011-09-03T14:19:00.002-04:002011-09-03T14:19:16.373-04:00Beginning, The Beginning, The Beginning of Our Story<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEglpbuRnimhyphenhyphenjVcQRc0enw-FByq35xSxE51ncUousjevcnoWG6IaMyKTazTmstVdvNRdCXdwPQs7ryjOLg9SHtJ6OkO2-BFIpEXJ1hD0tDF-fnaWQaVao2SWQNG0RabG-iqRm4zD98FUl1M/s1600/100_3529.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEglpbuRnimhyphenhyphenjVcQRc0enw-FByq35xSxE51ncUousjevcnoWG6IaMyKTazTmstVdvNRdCXdwPQs7ryjOLg9SHtJ6OkO2-BFIpEXJ1hD0tDF-fnaWQaVao2SWQNG0RabG-iqRm4zD98FUl1M/s320/100_3529.JPG" width="264" /></a></div>
The day finally came. After all the hype (and all my worry) our little C started Kindergarten. His first day was perfect, and he now loves going to school and gives me a huge smile every day when I pick him up and always has something exciting to tell me about how his day went.<br />
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So go ahead and tell me I was all worked up for no reason and worried for nothing. I don't mind hearing it. After all, I'm a mom. Worrying is my job.Kristenhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02783336573869551139noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5774321901861523696.post-71297602316127031342011-09-03T13:58:00.000-04:002011-09-03T13:59:32.038-04:00The Pintrest Obsession Begins...<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhejehxHmW6N87ztHMXPkmGOQeMj_gqS4OzQH0myqsRu8_sKZ2OihxKGu9rKPdnXhZjGFLPr6BObA98yhQeieSTgdPq0Yk-U6fyVLUrQrQeit4ylal_xmT0JLle8yzac0oE-Y9KvacTWS7B/s1600/100_3421.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhejehxHmW6N87ztHMXPkmGOQeMj_gqS4OzQH0myqsRu8_sKZ2OihxKGu9rKPdnXhZjGFLPr6BObA98yhQeieSTgdPq0Yk-U6fyVLUrQrQeit4ylal_xmT0JLle8yzac0oE-Y9KvacTWS7B/s320/100_3421.JPG" width="245" /></a></div>
For any of you who are not aware of <a href="http://www.pintrest.com/">Pintrest</a> well, you should be. It is the best thing that ever happened to my craft & sewing addiction. A friend told me about and I have been telling everyone I know about it ever since.<br />
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So when I needed a cute gift for my sis-in-law's wedding, I went there and found an easy answer. My friend "pinned" this idea from a blog, and I "repinned" it. To find the original tutorial click <a href="http://christyrobbins.blogspot.com/2011/07/wedding-invitation-ornament.html">here.</a> The wired ribbon I already had, and the cute charm I found at Hobby Lobby.<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhLuSlL0ItAGap6FUlwLPvr2B0Le6mftyX-pyOtFg7Yih8HvIVMWT3XcxnX47ZAV2R9w0GOQoYWLkjPBIYsGli8ppWqPZrWVG_czivNHV5a_bPqtCCD9Oee8Yz__O2Bi2QXXo22_1QeUw20/s1600/100_3430.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="208" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhLuSlL0ItAGap6FUlwLPvr2B0Le6mftyX-pyOtFg7Yih8HvIVMWT3XcxnX47ZAV2R9w0GOQoYWLkjPBIYsGli8ppWqPZrWVG_czivNHV5a_bPqtCCD9Oee8Yz__O2Bi2QXXo22_1QeUw20/s320/100_3430.JPG" width="320" /></a></div>
Don't know if you can tell, but the inside is their wedding invitation, cut into strips, and curled around a pencil.<br />
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Simple, but it is always nice to have something to hang on your Christmas tree to remind you of your special day.<br />
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<br />Kristenhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02783336573869551139noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5774321901861523696.post-74151359625710342512011-07-23T08:27:00.003-04:002011-07-23T08:56:35.081-04:00Kindergarten Prep<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiFFzV3deJdGQHUrnP6jK7c7d2i4BcluuW6wIUz_l8Ug1xYjqxAFVqepKKj8MYS8f4t49InlSsiofXwNn3iufhEA8zp19FudrUZEguCG5WnaaXYpaW8kCwAA6U52ZB9-BDTzPF9GK6gL6nR/s1600/chancey+cardinals.jpg" onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}"><img style="float:left; margin:0 10px 10px 0;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 277px; height: 269px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiFFzV3deJdGQHUrnP6jK7c7d2i4BcluuW6wIUz_l8Ug1xYjqxAFVqepKKj8MYS8f4t49InlSsiofXwNn3iufhEA8zp19FudrUZEguCG5WnaaXYpaW8kCwAA6U52ZB9-BDTzPF9GK6gL6nR/s320/chancey+cardinals.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5632530841431868914" /></a>As hard as it is to believe, our little man is finally old enough to go to kindergarten. I think I have finally overcome the denial stage, and have moved on to full-out panic. I know as a mother of a "typical" <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_0">kindergartener</span> I would have been a little paranoid and worried, but I would have told myself to chill out and get over it and<br />after a week or two I would have been okay. But with my little "special needs" man, I'm worried my paranoia might never end. My attempts to overcome it have been as follows:<div>1) We have already attended multiple <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_1">IEP</span> meetings (<span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_2">Individulalized</span> Educational Plan - mandated by the federal government for all kids with an issue that affects their ability to learn). The school system pretty much already planned on hiring an aide for C, so when we mentioned it they just jumped on board. Having avoided that fight was a huge blessing in and of itself. </div><div>2) The principal of Chancey Elementary, where our son will be attending, has a child who was a <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_3">kindergartener</span> last year and another child with special needs...so she gets it. I had a 30 minute conversation with her in her office and by the end we were both crying. She also said she would be carefully choosing his teacher for next year.</div><div>3) The teacher for next year is AMAZING. Can I say that before school has already started? Okay, so at least it is my initial impression. In the <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_4">IEP</span> meeting she attended she kept coming up with ideas that might help C, and at one point started crying (and I cried, and his preschool teacher, who was also at the meeting, cried) as she told us "It will be my privilege to teach your child." Then I went to see her yesterday and she told me about how she already had someone in to help arrange the room so C's power chair could reach everything. She also is raising one of the tables up so that he can pull his chair under it, and ordering new chairs for <b>all the other kids</b> so they'll be at the same height as him and he won't feel left out. (I had to force my arms to stay down because I suddenly had the intense desire to hug her.) And she was already awesome before C ever showed up to her class--she has won awards, obtained a thousands of dollars technology grant for her classroom alone, and is featured on a commercial for the school district. </div><div>4) The aide they have hired sounds like a great choice. She has been teaching for years, part of which was spent with C's teacher. She lives in the neighborhood, has three older children of her own, and is soft spoken but willing to speak her mind when needed. </div><div><br /></div><div>So if that all wasn't enough to release my paranoia, you'd think my need to concentrate on something else might just do it. That something else is the possibility of adoption that is looming on the horizon (finally) for our family. (Notice details are purposely omitted--no adoption is ever for sure, even once you have the baby, and we're just willing to share details.) C will go into school, leaving me suddenly alone all day, just as a new family member might come into our lives. We will see.</div><div><br /></div><div>And yet, the worry about C starting school still wanders around in my head. I am hoping it will dissipate a bit after a few weeks, but I guess that remains to be seen. I think I've just decided that moms are just destined to always worry about their kids. Too bad they don't tell you about that side effect when you decide to have a family. But as much as we love that kid, I don't suppose it would have made much difference anyway.</div>Kristenhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02783336573869551139noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5774321901861523696.post-34908954470762022512011-07-08T13:28:00.002-04:002011-07-08T13:30:09.736-04:00OverheardC's friend: [as we pass the cemetery] You see that? It's a....military.<div>C: Yeah, that's where you can plant people when they get dead.</div><div><br /></div><div>Seriously, how did we ever entertain ourselves before we had children?</div>Kristenhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02783336573869551139noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5774321901861523696.post-29235495359374906032011-03-16T10:56:00.003-04:002011-03-16T11:09:05.428-04:00The Tax Man Brings You a BabyThe other day, C was playing in his room and I was doing work in the office next to him. All of the sudden, he announces, "Look Mama! I got our taxes done!" I walked into find him sitting with paper he had scribbled on, and his Leap Frog calculator. <div>Now, being that he is the son of an accountant, I thought this was pretty hilarious. Our taxes were actually already done, but I assumed he must have heard us discussing them at some point and recognized there was some urgency there. So I posted the little event on <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_0">Facebook</span> and went on my way. </div><div>But then it started popping up in C's prayers: "And please bless mom and dad to get their taxes done." So then I started having some guilt--we wanted our taxes done because we wanted our return, but I didn't think we were freaking out about it or anything, so I couldn't figure out why the kid thought it was so important. So finally, after the fifth or sixth prayer, we did the logical thing and just asked him why he thought we needed to get our taxes done. And his reply was, "So then we can get a new baby!" </div><div>I assume he must have overheard one of us tell someone that we were trying to get our tax return money so we could put our adoption profile on a new website that would give us a lot more exposure. Our sweet, sweet boy just had it worked out that taxes = baby, so he was doing his best to help. Sure do love that kid. </div><div>So we explained it a little better to him, and now the taxes talk is gone. Instead he prays over every meal and at night that we can "get a new baby for our family," which seems fine and appropriate...but also that Heavenly Father will "raise up a spirit". And therein lies this week's mystery--no clue where he got that one from or what it means.</div>Kristenhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02783336573869551139noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5774321901861523696.post-17060677608749650772011-03-07T09:11:00.007-05:002011-03-07T09:37:08.110-05:00What's a Pirate's Favorite Restaurant?<div style="text-align: center;">Arrrrrrrby's! Here are some photos of my favorite pirate. Could he be any cuter? I don't think it's possible.</div><div style="text-align: center;"><img src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgUbxJ4KX_MZL4EwnTIqw1qA6lR_6QMnESP237g0eiKuMt_V7dWWvtTgXXYV5aFTIzU25cq1FgVTO3Ts3pdFV1A6OXwzpG4o7BZMZoAEdJcEpJkJxMPZ8W1sevQ8v5nIw_iNID7GrIj3gnr/s320/100_3115.JPG" style="cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 240px;" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5581341610741093090" /> <img src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhbn8kbek4JU386HkYqobQ_UJvz50iVEQri5iKKOKmFTrwSm9cPJJ5bcQmDmSIHsIYWosWHDGudzwGIIpI1CAI8wCmgBfST1At15lWqzAs-fiQ-YyBoL_LOVvzOWVXhGGkIEYxFnb8ySfJ0/s320/100_3117.JPG" style="cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 240px;" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5581343718732360450" /></div><div><div style="text-align: center;">C's Aunt Katie always has awesome surprises when she comes over and this pirate gear was a big hit. Thanks, Katie! We love you!</div><div style="text-align: center;"><img src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiWtmT6TS6SebojNdEqLlgibQQgP6bGKKpWJxqodNZqROxM1ZVshemLy8C8s6qZQ1QkVvbq0QN3l-RDcpesH-7Rv2y1wjbZFGqNsiHsoV4QOzglqX-EezOovTRpP6gDh1GxFhb1ot9HjxJR/s320/100_3116.JPG" style="cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 240px; height: 320px;" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5581345059583077234" /> </div><div style="text-align: center;">I don't know about you, but I'm totally afraid.</div></div>Kristenhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02783336573869551139noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5774321901861523696.post-72556870468494636412011-03-05T18:09:00.003-05:002011-03-05T18:45:05.801-05:00Goodbye Thomas<div style="text-align: left;">C is about 4 1/2 now, and in watching him at church I've come to the decision that it is time we move to more gospel centered "entertainment" for sacrament meeting. I've kinda been letting the toy cars, toy story figurines, and monster coloring books slide. Don't get me wrong--I'm not judging anybody else. You do what you gotta do to make it work for your family. I just think my calm little guy is ready to make a change.</div><div style="text-align: left;">My hope is that I can make it fun enough then C will roll with the change. About 8 months ago we decided to make him wait until after the sacrament was passed to pull his stuff out, and that has been going pretty well. We have always taken his Thomas bag (a little backpack with Thomas on it that seems to entrance other children for some reason) to church with all his sacrament meeting stuff. So I decided the first step was to have a church-<span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_0">ier</span> bag.</div><div style="text-align: left;">I have sort of an obsession to felt right now, so this is what I came up with.</div><div style="text-align: center;"><img src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEigIPVbq3rh4XIvh7kLUfnMdxb__htM8UjD5sAkN6M_7PyKedVSRF5nVUFqTBYeX3UvNNjZaVZ9jDAaqtR7WhE_gRAry5s6ZxCLmWf8nbwkmqweNgqMnOOTZc94_96oPgr_6cUwdFmPUPmu/s400/100_3162.JPG" style="cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 300px;" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5580740284652627170" /></div><div>I'm very grateful to my mother-in-law for the amazingly sharp sewing scissors she gave me, even if they do make the felt addiction possible. I think I just love felt because you can create with it without stressing how the edges will be finished. </div><div>Next step: church-centered file folder games. Anybody have any suggestions??</div>Kristenhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02783336573869551139noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5774321901861523696.post-20457645855516857612011-03-02T10:07:00.007-05:002011-03-02T10:45:49.608-05:00How do you spell PEACE?In early December we got out all the Christmas decoration boxes, cranked up the holiday tunes, and started decorating the house. Adam was unpacking the stocking hangers, which usually spell out PEACE...and then few minutes into our activity, I turned around and saw this:<div style="text-align: center;"><img src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgyJreukxohx4MYyybi2nKmlCM-T6uchoZmMjsmn7R4w_uvPA9tIHSr8FGrVHvP-rmf7Qg186CJgmFIW7Hl8Q641KLQw7FXZ5vo38GwqRVSRs47fhvkNyVaP0j-eVIB2fHC3aMzwvqZ8-gE/s400/100_3032.JPG" style="cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 300px;" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5579501404590085106" /></div><div>I laughed loudly and for quite awhile, and we actually left it for a few days. Adam, who can always make me laugh, did this on purpose because few things could describe the last year of our lives better than those three letters...for two reasons.</div><div>First of all, for about the last year Adam has been working on becoming a CPA. The test is given in four parts. People typically study for a few months for each section. Each section's test takes about four hours, and in Kentucky the pass rate for each section averages around 46%. Only 10% of people pass all four sections on their first try. Adam has now taken all four sections, has passed three of them, and we are waiting for the score on the fourth. To say his schedule has been hectic is an understatement. He typically gets up between 3-5am, studies for awhile, then goes to his full-time (+) job. He studies for about 45 minutes during his lunch at work, and then often comes home and studies for another hour. I have no doubt this is the hardest personal challenge he's ever faced, and I am completely impressed and overwhelmed by his perseverance and dedication. He says he has guilt about not spending more time with C and I, but I don't see why because he still somehow manages to spend time each day with C and take me out about every other weekend for a date. And I know with perfect surety that whole reason he is doing this all is for us.</div><div>The second reason that picture characterizes us so well comes not from the letters themselves, but from the quantity of letters. I bought that 5-letter stocking hanger set before we had any kids, in anticipation of the three children we planned to have. I figured if we decided to go on to four then I could come up with something else to do. </div><div>But they say if you want to make God laugh, tell him your plans. And so, though we would have had all three by now had life gone as we expected, we instead find ourselves praying every day that we will finally be able to adopt and just at least make it to two. And yet, through all the waiting we still have hope. With all the work we've put into the adoption I feel as if I've experienced the difficulties of nine months of pregnancy in a different way, and should be expecting the new baby any time now. I actually find myself occasionally referring to our "kids"...I guess because deep down inside underneath the disappointment I know it will happen when the time is right. </div><div>But no matter what our letters are, I can say that through it all we have truly been blessed with peace from our Heavenly Father who is so truly aware of what our needs are. And who knows...maybe next year it will be CAPE...because we'll have a new member of our family, and my superhero husband will be a licensed CPA!!</div><div><br /></div>Kristenhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02783336573869551139noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5774321901861523696.post-50636581522076595072011-02-02T14:41:00.003-05:002011-02-02T15:07:34.608-05:00School AnxietyBefore C was ever born, I knew I would be one of those moms that cried when their child went to kindergarten. I used to get stressed out when Adam had his first day of a new semester (though he was completely laid back and not nervous at all). When C started preschool I expected myself to boo-hoo a bit, but I came away doing pretty well. <div>And now, we are eight months away from kindergarten and the crying has already started. But not for the reason I would have thought. I am ready for C to go to kindergarten. I know he is craving more socialization than I can give, and academically he's ready. He counts, draws, cuts, knows his letters and sounds and is just starting to sound out words. But what is killing me is Jefferson County Public Schools (JCPS).</div><div>Don't get me wrong--I do believe he can get a good education at JCPS and be prepared to enter college. But their whole process boggles my mind. JCPS has what they call a "student assignment plan" where a school can only accept up to 85% of the kids that live around them...the other 15% have to be bussed from somewhere else in the county to make sure the school is "diverse" enough. So when you register for kindergarten you choose from your cluster of schools--a first and second choice from Group A, and a first and second choice from Group B. And then you pray that you get one of them for the three months it takes them to decide.</div><div>Sound confusing? Yup. It is. And then just give the top of that problem a nice coating of "special needs child" and you get where my tears are coming from. </div><div>We've also been working on getting C's IEP written, so I have been touring preschools, elementary schools, and special needs schools, talking to PTs, OTs, resource teachers, principals and making appointments all across the county. And when it comes right down to it the thing I've learned is this: all I want is for C to go to the school right next to our subdivision. Curse you, JCPS!!!</div><div>And here's the best part...as stressed out as I am now, I know that in eight months it will all be decided and C will start school and be gone from me from 8:45 - 3:45 every day...and instead of being stressed out I will be twiddling my thumbs looking for something to do. It will be the perfect time for a new baby to make its way into our family...but as we know adoption follows no one's timeline. We'll just keep our fingers crossed and keep praying and know that someday when that new child comes and gets old enough for kindergarten, we will know EXACTLY where the best place is to send them!</div>Kristenhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02783336573869551139noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5774321901861523696.post-49157299880268202352011-01-27T15:29:00.004-05:002011-01-27T16:13:09.169-05:00"Almost" DaySo why is it so much easier to post about the bad days? I guess there is something to be said for catharsis. So in the true spirit of catharsis, I present to you my "almost" day.<div>Yesterday morning I <i><b>almost</b> </i>went to visit a Jefferson County Public Schools (<span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_0">JCPS</span>) preschool. C has been going to a private preschool, but because he has a physical disability they have offered him free preschool on top of that. So I was supposed to visit one preschool yesterday...which I <i>almost</i> did but then we had a snow day. </div><div>And then I <b><i>almost</i> </b>observed at a different preschool today...but then we decided we didn't have the heart to send our child to that school--40 minutes away downtown--no matter how good the school. </div><div>I was <b><i>almost</i></b> able to sub at C's preschool for a little extra cash, but by the time we figured out I wasn't making the preschool visit and called the sub coordinator back she had already found a replacement sub. </div><div>So I dropped C off at preschool, and then I was <b><i>almost</i></b> able to get done all the things I had planned to do in my 2.5 childless hours...but then I started emailing Adam at work about stuff and got sucked into the game of Spider Solitaire I was playing while waiting for his emails. I know, you can say it---totally lame. I promise I am not an "online gamer" but I think this morning I just needed to veg a bit. </div><div>Then, I was <b><i>almost</i></b> late to pick up C because I got this awesome ticket (first in like 10 years) a few months ago on the way to get him so I'm paranoid a cop is going to pull me over again so I go super slow.</div><div>Next, I <i style="font-weight: bold; ">almost </i>lost C at the school. How do you lose a child who can't walk at a school full of teachers? Great question. He was in his manual wheelchair and I parked him outside the teacher's lounge door so I could run in and get his mobile stander. I left the door open so I could see him but a teacher came in behind me and closed the door. I might have been in there 25 seconds, and when I came out C was not there or anywhere in the hallway. Now I know he can move the manual chair himself, but he doesn't go very fast. So I started to freak out and was yelling his name, when his assistant teacher came out of his classroom smiling and pointed inside her door. I ran to the class and sure enough, he was "hiding" in the classroom. I really don't see how he could have gotten that far without a push so I assume his assistant teacher helped him hide, but you'll have to excuse me if I don't think it's very funny to hide a child from their mother. I did not express those feelings, but trust me--I felt it. </div><div>So I got C in the van and was loading the mobile stander, and I turn around to see his manual wheelchair, which I know I put the break on, taking itself on a merry journey across the parking lot, careening toward a parked car. I shot across the lot and grabbed it as it <b style="font-style: italic; ">almost </b>made impact. [At this point in my day, yes, I am starting to think the manual wheelchair is possessed.]</div><div>We got home, unloaded, and settled, and my sweet boy made me smile several times. Kids always make things better. And I was <i style="font-weight: bold; ">almost</i> my normal happy self again...when the phone rang. It was the Medicaid office calling to tell us we were denied for the new Medicaid program we were having C apply for and have been waiting to hear about for three months. Definitely qualifies as "bad news" because it would mean a lot more things would be free. We will of course appeal and hopefully should be approved.</div><div>So, there you have it. A day of <i style="font-weight: bold; ">almost.</i> And now, as I'm reflecting back about it, I realize that I <i style="font-weight: bold; ">almost</i> forgot one thing that I know to be absolutely true...that if you get over one bad thing, another is bound to come your way because that is just how life is. It was, in fact, designed to be that way. The point is to find your own happiness in the middle of it all. So I better run, because I plan to "<span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_1">chillax</span>," as C says, and watch a bit of <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_2">Scooby</span>-<span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_3">doo</span> with him so I can look back on today as the day that I <i style="font-weight: bold; ">almost</i> had a bad day.</div>Kristenhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02783336573869551139noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5774321901861523696.post-27688262855226390142010-11-02T10:26:00.002-04:002010-11-02T10:52:30.291-04:00Our Unplanned Fire DrillWhen we were first married, Adam always used the buzzer on his alarm. I HATE buzzers...ever since I was a teenager and my parents made me use this alarm clock from 1979 with a buzzer that sounded like a rabid bird. Needless to say, I quickly won Adam over on the idea of waking up to the gentle sounds of the radio.<br />This morning I would have even taken the rabid bird over what I got. Adam woke up early and was in the shower, and C and I were snuggled in our beds still sleeping in the cold house. (We left the heat off last night and it got a little chilly.) All of the sudden I heard the smoke alarm start blaring in the hall outside our rooms. So, so loud...I swear I can almost still hear it. I jumped straight out of bed, and if the adrenaline from the alarm wasn't enough then the blast of cold air from throwing off my blankets gave me just what I needed to go racing out of our room.<br />As soon as I got to the hallway I could see the smoke, but I quickly determined our death wasn't imminent. Apparently, Adam had kindly started the fire in the living room when he got up to warm up the house...not knowing that last night I closed up the flue to keep out the cold air. So instead of the smoke being pulled up the chimney it just made its way through the house.<br />I started batting at the smoke alarm with a blanket, but being vertically-challenged I wasn't quite making it. After a few jumps I finally got the thing to shut off, but being in my half-asleep <span id="SPELLING_ERROR_0" class="blsp-spelling-corrected">stupor</span> it didn't occur to me that if I didn't stop it at the source the problem would continue. After a few off-and-<span id="SPELLING_ERROR_1" class="blsp-spelling-error">ons</span> of the alarm, I finally clued in to what was going on and went to shut off the fire.<br />About this time Adam finally heard the alarm in the shower and came out less-than-<span id="SPELLING_ERROR_2" class="blsp-spelling-error">fully</span> dressed to make sure we were all okay and take a few swats at the smoke alarm himself. C was also obviously awakened by the alarm and was yelling at us from his behind the door in his bedroom, the door I didn't want to open to let smoke in his room...unfortunately a week or two ago was "fire <span id="SPELLING_ERROR_3" class="blsp-spelling-error">safety</span>" day at school, so he was pretty freaked out.<br />A few minutes later we finally got ourselves together and got everything shut off, got dressed, and were snuggling on the couch with the doors open sending smoke out and 30-degree air in. Now I think I still smell like smoke and my toes are frozen, but I believe the smell is out of all the rooms in the house. And, as Adam said, at least we know the smoke alarm is working just fine.Kristenhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02783336573869551139noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5774321901861523696.post-72569190654165578892010-10-30T21:00:00.003-04:002010-10-30T21:09:33.081-04:00Bad and Worst are Good AgainTonight I am thankful for my husband. We got some really unhappy news tonight, and I told him with tears running down my cheeks how I just didn't know how to deal with it on top of all the other things we're struggling with. So he looks at me with a goofy smile and says, "You can just do what I do. When another really bad thing happens, I just say, 'Well this really sucks but it's still not as bad as ____.' So sometimes we can be grateful for the worst trial happening to us cause when a new bad thing happens that worst trial makes the new thing not look so bad."<br />So I actually laughed out loud. And then I felt much better. I'm really not sure if he's a genius or going insane...all I know is if that's insanity it's making me smile and I wanna be wherever he is.Kristenhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02783336573869551139noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5774321901861523696.post-69504574877190869162010-10-25T12:46:00.003-04:002010-10-25T13:02:17.512-04:00First Day of School<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiJK2umb6Pp8LRZp6UHYgCyZUA2jWcbCL1z6ujGOweZC5u3datdZmFYxoM4WVvMdcp0TGkiOxtq38p_ZINZsvyugMs0ALHTegHME_ARDdKNjlepO1MHJ45xNIKDaBGaXo53Qh9dU_wLXTS5/s1600/100_2857.JPG"><img style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 400px; DISPLAY: block; HEIGHT: 300px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5532026776384437346" border="0" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiJK2umb6Pp8LRZp6UHYgCyZUA2jWcbCL1z6ujGOweZC5u3datdZmFYxoM4WVvMdcp0TGkiOxtq38p_ZINZsvyugMs0ALHTegHME_ARDdKNjlepO1MHJ45xNIKDaBGaXo53Qh9dU_wLXTS5/s400/100_2857.JPG" /></a><br /><div>I know it might be October now, but I figured better late than never, right? In August (yes, I'm a slacker) C started preschool. I wasn't really worried leading up to this event...I've left him places for three hours before, and he always does fine. The school we chose for him was Friends School, and we truly love them. Their student population is 80% typical, 20% special needs...so with C's issue being a purely physical disability we figured he'd have lots in common with the kids there. Before school even started, we had a meeting with the Special Needs Coordinator & his teacher, a Parents' Open House, and Kids' Classroom visit/Open House, and a home visit by his teacher. </div><div>So, when the first day of school rolled around, I wasn't worried at all as I dropped C off in the classroom. He was so interested in all the new friends and new toys that I literally had to physically turn his face to mine so he would hear me say "goodbye" and know I was gone. As I walked down the hall and toward the front door, I was very impressed with myself--no tears, not even a sniffle. Then, as I took a step outside the glass door and saw my van parked across the parking lot, it suddenly hit me that I was getting into a car alone and not buckling anyone else in. I started to have this panicky feeling I didn't recognize....I knew I was leaving him in capable hands and I wasn't worried about that...and I finally realized that feeling was pure old loneliness. I was now a mom without a kid for three hours, twice a week. </div><div>Well, at first it was pretty depressing. If we had been able to keep to our original plan, I would probably be pregnant with our third and last child right now, and not waiting around for someone to choose us to adopt their baby. So then, that--of all things on this day--was what set off the tears. </div><div>But, I am happy to report now that preschool day is one of my favorite days. C LOVES school, and always has something cool to tell me about his day...he painted with apples or rode a fire truck or played musical instruments. I just can't feel guilty about being away from him...in fact I know he is getting things from school that I never could have given him. And...I now grocery shop alone!</div>Kristenhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02783336573869551139noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5774321901861523696.post-35057067812780213612010-07-22T15:16:00.002-04:002010-07-22T15:42:36.894-04:00How Goldfish Make Us HappySo this week I am trying not to drown in my guilt by simply assigning myself the "Bad Mom" award and moving on. <br />This is what happened...we have been working on getting C a mobile stander. In case you don't know what that is it is basically a manual wheelchair but you are in standing position instead of seated, which is much better for bones/muscles/breathing. He had a mobile stander before and could push it short distances like around a room or two, but not at....say the zoo. It has been in the works for months now, but we are still trying to get the right documentation to submit to insurance for prior authorization.<br />We have been anticipating this for a long time. We purposely found a home with wood floors and very low profile carpeting so it would be better for him and he could use it some to get himself around the house. Since he can't crawl anymore, he now just bum scoots around as far as he can which isn't always as far as he needs to go.<br />So, the other weekend Adam decides we need to clean out the garage--the last big stronghold of unpacked things. I reluctantly agreed, though I was really glad we did it once we were all through. About halfway through, I noticed our old manual wheelchair in the corner. Our First Steps physical therapist had given this to us as a donation from another family when C was about two and a half. It has all its parts, but has been well loved. When we initially got the chair, we put C in it but his little arms were too short to really get a good push in the wheels. So in essence it was a glorified stroller, but we wanted to have it for a backup in case the power chair was in the shop and he was too big for a stroller.<br />So there I am, staring at it collecting dust in our garage, and it occurs to me that the last time he tried that chair was a year and a half ago, and his arms are bound to have grown since then. And if he can push the mobile stander wheels, he can push the wheelchair wheels. I wish I had better words to explain my feelings at that moment, but "duh" seems all that is really appropriate. I cannot believe it never occurred to me to let him try it!!! So we pulled the chair into the house and wiped that baby down with Clorox wipes, and put C in it. <br />And what did he do? Started pushing himself, albeit slowly, around the house. He was so, so happy. He drove himself all the way into the kitchen and said, "Mom, I'm gonna get myself a snack" and when I walked around the island, he had pulled the lower cabinet door open and was just leaning up with an orange bag of goldfish in his hands. And then he just wheeled away like it was nothing and it happened every day and started stuffing his face. And I cried. He GOT HIS OWN SNACK!! I know I'm such a softy, but I am so proud of my sweet little boy and his strength...not the strength of his muscles, but the strength of his heart and his desire to grasp for whatever independence he can get, even when it's hard to do.Kristenhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02783336573869551139noreply@blogger.com6tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5774321901861523696.post-36907488250498107592010-06-30T14:50:00.006-04:002010-06-30T15:05:32.254-04:00Bemembering the Cooler Days<p align="center">So since I haven't blogged in forever, I thought I'd post a few pictures of some cooler days earlier this year. I saw these when I was finally able to load what was in my camera, and believe me--with this heat wave I am longing for these days to return. (C always says "<span id="SPELLING_ERROR_0" class="blsp-spelling-error">bemember</span>" instead of "remember" so we've all taken to saying it, too.)</p><p align="center"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi18FGZIgwImPFcA1CBACvG0gLbEFpaY-FIs1yshYaYr-KIoIphsPgGhURCkZCu01yRsBMFXC2eywb4y5CbHYYMTYwrYDETkhZJh2F0drJ0ecXHDGcXRrW_eoUUGyH0wY8n80Vtf0AFJrw2/s1600/100_2602.JPG"><img style="WIDTH: 320px; HEIGHT: 240px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5488641912910939698" border="0" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi18FGZIgwImPFcA1CBACvG0gLbEFpaY-FIs1yshYaYr-KIoIphsPgGhURCkZCu01yRsBMFXC2eywb4y5CbHYYMTYwrYDETkhZJh2F0drJ0ecXHDGcXRrW_eoUUGyH0wY8n80Vtf0AFJrw2/s320/100_2602.JPG" /></a></p><p align="center">C is the one on the left. You'll have to excuse his snowman-like appearance...it was pretty cold that day and I got a little paranoid about him being too chilly playing in the snow with Dad. I can't believe how much snow we got-this doesn't even show the half of it. At this point we only had enough for a little-boy snowman.</p><p align="center"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjWxccBr3fgW3MVYiq_81YWl53rntSEhSOSM1xqZ0Vz22QFXr6htS3H2JoyCXTp0qurSKzHEN87oZU0J4WFfbC_qv1OVz9pJID2APZawSQ3wgu97nZJ2jk08wY5H8lPF2Qq_-Qnx0b1zuhl/s1600/100_2604.JPG"><img style="WIDTH: 384px; HEIGHT: 272px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5488642509709216610" border="0" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjWxccBr3fgW3MVYiq_81YWl53rntSEhSOSM1xqZ0Vz22QFXr6htS3H2JoyCXTp0qurSKzHEN87oZU0J4WFfbC_qv1OVz9pJID2APZawSQ3wgu97nZJ2jk08wY5H8lPF2Qq_-Qnx0b1zuhl/s320/100_2604.JPG" /></a></p><div align="center">Why yes that is my ruggedly handsome husband posing by the crazy fence at my mom's house (which has now been torn down and replaced!).</div><div align="center"> </div><div align="center"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgXbvHfUm-tF5BWLxBWWBmaI3BotoYR_qKQSqBEeJk32Ko4502NbpltZxHCqZvvF9pBuGZ66fLVPwMGi9tM1RsVw-8PCzMDBi05i_RRPvOIsxSpIzgb-kg9pyo0oU-4bASpp6b_u-oaCE_i/s1600/100_2607.JPG"><img style="WIDTH: 396px; HEIGHT: 276px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5488643012573354978" border="0" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgXbvHfUm-tF5BWLxBWWBmaI3BotoYR_qKQSqBEeJk32Ko4502NbpltZxHCqZvvF9pBuGZ66fLVPwMGi9tM1RsVw-8PCzMDBi05i_RRPvOIsxSpIzgb-kg9pyo0oU-4bASpp6b_u-oaCE_i/s320/100_2607.JPG" /></a></div><div align="center"> </div><div align="center">As cute as my boys are, this might be the best picture of all. Before the snowfall we left a paper plate with some birdseed on it on the table. Somehow under all that snow this squirrel could smell it there and dug it out!! He was only about two feet from the back window where we were watching him and you'd think he would have been afraid, but I guess desperate times call for desperate measures. </div><div align="center">Is it too early to be looking forward to Christmas??</div>Kristenhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02783336573869551139noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5774321901861523696.post-84974581131871565602010-06-28T08:16:00.003-04:002010-06-28T08:25:50.637-04:00Blog DepressionSo...anyone who might have been looking at our blog has probably stopped...because, well, I've been taken over by this sort of blog depression. First, my camera cord that downloads pictures to the computer disappeared somewhere in my parents house when we were staying there waiting to close on our house. So I couldn't figure out a way to upload pictures (though I have since discovered an easier $10 solution). Then, we started using Gmail...which is awesome except that since we signed up on Blogger using a different non-<span id="SPELLING_ERROR_0" class="blsp-spelling-error">gmail</span> address, there is apparently no way to change the email address you sign in with <em>to</em> a <span id="SPELLING_ERROR_1" class="blsp-spelling-error">gmail</span> one without starting a whole new blog. I looked into this for days and emailed people...and then I was just mad at google for not being able to tackle that small problem. And somehow in the back of my brain I subconsciously decided if I refused to blog it would be punishing them in some way...when in reality they could care less what I do and don't do.<br />So anyway, now I'm over my anger and I've decided to start blogging again. Now I'm excited to see if I actually follow through. :)Kristenhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02783336573869551139noreply@blogger.com5tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5774321901861523696.post-46409860811830989772010-02-26T11:52:00.004-05:002010-02-27T10:01:58.207-05:00The Day We MetSo for some reason I've just been thinking over and over about posting the story of how Adam and I met. I just started this post yesterday, and then this morning before I finished I read my awesome sister- and brother-in-law's story of how they met and now I am happy to be part of a trend. So here goes...<br /><br />It was the fall of 2002 and I had just graduated from <span id="SPELLING_ERROR_0" class="blsp-spelling-error">BYU</span>. I was kind of exhausted with relationships, working on getting over someone I couldn't let go of and someone I couldn't hold on to. I was planning on going to graduate school, but after much prayer I decided to take a year off and work. I met an awesome friend, Kristen Curran, and we almost immediately became <span id="SPELLING_ERROR_1" class="blsp-spelling-corrected">inseparable</span>.<br /><br />On October 26<span id="SPELLING_ERROR_2" class="blsp-spelling-error">th</span>, we decided to attend a young single adult activity our church was having at a church member's farm. We all sat in a circle around a campfire and introduced ourselves. I have lived in this area since about 13 so most of the people I already knew. But one stood out--this tall, attractive guy who was talking to an old friend. I assumed they were probably there together, so when he got up and introduced himself as being a member of our church and having lived here since he was 10, I was completely surprised. But I figured he was probably too cool for our little group and sort of dismissed him. My friend, Kristen, however, was super friendly and at the end of the activity we ended up inviting him to come with our group to a haunted house (that ended up being really lame) and later to Denny's. <br /><br />A few days later we all got together again, and then Adam became a permanent fixture in our group...and he and I really hit it off. I was SO not looking for a relationship, and I think it ended up being the perfect set-up for me falling deeply in love because I was completely disarmed. We became good friends and I realized I was falling in love and he was coming, too. I think the point when I really came to the realization was a time when we were sitting across the room from each other at yet another single adult activity playing games. Adam caught my eye and winked at me, and that one wink felt like the best hug I ever had. <br /><br />Our first kiss was in a friend's grandparent's house...bizarre I know. Everyone else was in the basement and we both came upstairs at the same time. Adam swears he kissed me first, but that's not exactly how I remember it. He got himself really close to me (which was good because I'm not sure I would have had the guts to do that) and then since he was already there I just leaned a tiny bit closer and made it happen. I consider this as one of the best compromises of our life together. :)<br /><br />Our first official date actually came after that. I know that sounds scandalous, but we just sort of got together while hanging out with friends. After we both sort of accepted we were an item, we went on our first official date to Ruby Tuesdays. <br /><br />By the end of the first quarter of 2003, I think we both had a pretty good idea where we were headed. And then on a Monday in May, a day before the birth of our third nephew, Adam proposed to me while we were eating <span id="SPELLING_ERROR_3" class="blsp-spelling-error">DQ</span> Blizzards (still our favorite) at a beautiful state park near my parents' house. He had wrapped up the ring and buried it in the blizzard. When I found it he went down on one knee and asked me to marry him, and when we got back to the car he handed me some roses (that I had somehow overlooked?!? in the backseat). We initially thought we would be married in December, but once we looked at all the scheduling, we decided August would be better. <br /><br />On August 9 we were married in the Louisville, KY temple of the Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-Day Saints. We have had an amazing 6 1/2 years. I can easily say that marriage is the hardest thing I've ever had to do in my life. We have had some incredible lows that I never would have predicted or expected, but also the most fantastic highs that were better that anything I could have imagined. I think I've decided that our lives are sort of like a cup that is <span id="SPELLING_ERROR_4" class="blsp-spelling-corrected">sometimes</span> really full or really empty. When we get married, and again with each child, our cup grows a little bigger...so that when it is empty it is truly empty and you feel it so much more than you would a smaller cup...but when it is full you have a greater joy than you ever could have known alone. <br /><br />I am so grateful for my husband. He makes sacrifice after sacrifice for us, and makes me smile every day. He is a perfect father to our little boy, and is a great example to me. It is so amazing to me how well he complements me. I knew I liked him on that day back in October so many years ago, but I don't think I knew myself well enough then to even understand fully just how much he is exactly what I need. I am so grateful for a Heavenly Father who knew me well enough to place someone in my path like him and I am thrilled to be able to spend forever learning just how much fuller our cup can get.Kristenhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02783336573869551139noreply@blogger.com10tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5774321901861523696.post-13453995146745759982010-01-24T17:18:00.003-05:002010-01-24T18:03:03.907-05:00The ProgressionAdam and I have the same issue that so many couples have...where he hits the pillow and is asleep two minutes later (not an exaggeration) and I take forever falling asleep. Inevitably as I am trying to convince myself to sleep, my mind starts to drift to both our hope for the adoption and C.<br />I feel so much more in control of my life that I did a year or two ago. C's doctors are all settled and we have regular appointments. For the most part, I know who to call for what he needs...or at least who to call to tell us where to look. But the part I still struggle with each night before I fall asleep is the part I can't control--the progression.<br />When C was diagnosed, he still stood and cruised along the furniture. I knew he had stopped walking out into the room but, knowing so little about <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_0">SMA</span> at the time, I thought maybe we could do intense physical therapy or maybe I could work with him a ton every day and he would be strong again and walking in no time. We have several friends and family <span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_1">members</span> with children with different diseases and syndromes, and so many of them had made great leaps and bound over what their doctors thought they would physically accomplish...and I thought "My son can certainly do that too!"<br />And then, I learned about just was <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_2">SMA</span> was....A "progressive" disease. In January it will be two years since his diagnosis, and not only does he no longer stand independently, but he has recently stopped crawling. He has lost a ton of arm strength and falls over easily from a sitting position. The disease is such that it only gets worse--and you might be able to maintain for awhile but it is never getting better.<br />This is a fact that I fully understand and accept, but I won't say that personally that's not hard for me. I am a problem-solver and a fixer, and to give me a problem that can never be solved that involves one of the people I love most in this entire world is probably the greatest trial I will ever have. So at night when I'm trying desperately to go to sleep, I start thinking back about my day and wondering if I did all I could for C today and if there is anything I am forgetting. And I start to worry about his future and what strength he will lose next and how we can best help him. I never want to think or feel that things progressed with his disease and there was something I could have done to stop it, or that I didn't provide him with every opportunity. Even typing that now seems silly, because of course it is the disease and not me...but the thoughts still go through my head. And then, inevitably, I convince myself to stop thinking about it all and go to sleep because there is nothing that can be done about it right now.<br />So then the other day, I was eating a Dove chocolate (cause they're awesome) and there was this little quote inside, "Do not pursue the past. Do not lose yourself in the future. The past no longer is. The future has not yet come." And after a brief moment passed where I wondered if God made chocolate, I was thankful to Dove for giving me just what I needed to hear. And I started thinking about that word "progression." Back in History class the word always seemed to have a much more positive connotation and the teacher was always using it to describe the invention of the printing press or the railroad spanning the country. So maybe I was thinking about it all wrong. Maybe if C's muscles pull off some backward progression--well that's their loss. You can go back to thinking the world is flat, but it won't do you much good. But my son can still have an amazing and overwhelming amount of positive progression in his life. He is very intelligent and compassionate, and I know he will accomplish much. And someday soon our family too will progress, and C will have a new brother or sister we will love just as much who will be a shining example to him and a best friend.<br /><br />So today I choose to embrace progression and be thankful for it, so that I might teach my children might find happiness in each day, and the great amount of happiness that is to come. And maybe eating a few extra chocolates isn't such a bad idea, either.Kristenhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02783336573869551139noreply@blogger.com9tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5774321901861523696.post-34543260071035483112010-01-24T16:45:00.004-05:002010-01-24T17:13:39.192-05:00Reindeer FoodAs I am sure people get tired of the same old Christmas posts, I thought I would just put the unique things about this Christmas. First of all, ever since Jenna (my sister) was little, she always made "reindeer food" to sprinkle on the lawn outside for Santa's reindeer on Christmas Eve. This year, since we are staying at my parents' house for a few months while we find a new house, C got to join in the fun. <div><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5430427743603173122" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 300px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 400px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjcn0VxGUOP59eOEotrl2Y75L4e4W4gT47xZE3kntOF08LyWHNX_8q9q1mJZshs4fxMcPW4Av7XHx3Xfj4O0S7VZkRxVANRApMM7W-P7i2_4TZ2vYHQRutfoYtIMhvVhwYUlctKn7085siR/s400/100_2507.jpg" border="0" /></div><div>Needless to say, he loved it. And we all had a good time sprinkling it outside on the lawn...even though it was raining and Adam accidentally punched me in the head with an <span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_0">aggressive</span> toss. (Santa took pity on him and still gave him presents, but he is definitely on the "check twice" list for next year.)<br /><br /></div><div></div><div>The second unique thing was that my mom, Jenna, and I all got aprons for Christmas. Jenna and I got cute pink, black and white polka-dotted ones with our initials, and Jenna (for her first sewing project) made a beautiful new one for our mom. Alyssa did not get an apron because, well, Alyssa pretty much owns every cute and fun thing (it's true--check out her new condo) and already has a super cute apron.<br /></div><div></div><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5430426354409423058" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 319px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 240px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgs_k9RaqQqKKi48HUK55DG3ZRAm7Nz-UMgvsA0-NwAfbVoGsTNQWCfUOuT7W3BZ9CXOUgkNIuvzC1Wr2whu12FWQMLQV4kxwewD9C4SWXyzaCv-gU4JhWa6FBjBjhFLrAURakewL3jOECE/s320/100_2579.jpg" border="0" /> The third unique thing was that after weeks and weeks of tormenting each other, Adam and <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_1">Maisy</span> (my parents' cat) finally made friends. Okay, well I guess that's not really true...they do chase each other around a lot, but Adam gives the cat more treats then all the rest of us combined.<br /><br /><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5430428355697256866" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 320px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 240px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhCexha25ea2ORmd-20dJ6N5PC3TqJkzr60qc_PDJmRZidPA8NP4rgQSVl8Jj0ElwmmStA_z7tG431YJ9Pz-DYMtPSlRvTuTrxe7SAe-A5TifNQvt1xZQojKQJkrMIKkUZO6gHmnAuzsYKa/s320/100_2527.jpg" border="0" />And finally, we very sadly forgot our camera when we went to Adam's parents' house for Christmas dinner. What was unique about our Christmas there? <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_2">Hmmm</span>...oh I know. I was passing out presents to everyone in a room full of about 18 people, and when everyone but Adam's sister, Beth, was absorbed in opening gifts I started to do ballet moves behind the Christmas tree. Not that I know ballet, but it was just hilarious that I was standing in the middle of the room and no one was noticing (except Beth who I wanted to laugh). That was slightly embarrassing, but said in keeping with the theme.<br /><br />There were many other unique things about this Christmas, but as usual it was a wonderful few days and a perfect celebration of the birth of our Savior. And C is already making a list for next year. Why just yesterday he saw a commercial for a hair straightener on TV and told me I needed to put that on my Christmas list. I wonder what he is really trying to say.Kristenhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02783336573869551139noreply@blogger.com0