tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-51613441815525148272024-02-20T18:36:18.182-08:00Sweetness in the Small Stuff...Sweetness in the Small Stuff...Mindyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10914061059726574864noreply@blogger.comBlogger927125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5161344181552514827.post-79486750515899667062014-01-24T08:50:00.000-08:002014-01-24T08:54:23.600-08:00Ella's birth photos, Part 2<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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All photos courtesy of Amanda at A.R.T. Photography. Check out her beautiful <u><a href="http://a-r-t-photography.com/">website</a></u> or visit <u><a href="https://www.facebook.com/likeA.R.T.photography?ref=br_tf">the Facebook page</a></u>.</div>
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Mindyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10914061059726574864noreply@blogger.com6tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5161344181552514827.post-41722314065534466052014-01-13T08:30:00.000-08:002014-01-13T08:30:00.055-08:00Ella's birth photos, Part 1<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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*All photos courtesy of Amanda at A.R.T. Photography. Visit <u><a href="http://a-r-t-photography.com/">her website</a></u> and <u><a href="https://www.facebook.com/likeA.R.T.photography">her Facebook page</a></u> for more examples of her gorgeous work.Mindyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10914061059726574864noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5161344181552514827.post-45149450255280708772014-01-10T12:09:00.000-08:002014-01-10T14:58:15.402-08:00after the birth story endsRecently I've been thinking. I have shared six birth stories with you over the years. These stories are important to me, and powerful. They remind me of the journey we've taken, the way my husband and I have chosen to bring our children into the world. They represent a certain rite of passage, and I have read them again and again. They're not perfect by any means, but they are <i>ours</i>. <br />
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And yet, they're only part of the picture of what happens in our home on the day of a birth. So for those who are curious, I've decided to share with you what happens after the birth story ends. After the baby arrives, and we see who the Lord has sent to our family. After we sing <a href="https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=lTwjsorzNz4" style="text-decoration: underline;">the special lullaby</a> with our baby's name. Without further ado, here's a look at what happens - next.<br />
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<b>Nursing the wee one. </b>Usually this starts pretty soon after the baby is born, often while still in the birth tub. The earlier the better, it seems to me. Of course, I did have one baby who essentially yelled at us until I thought to offer him the breast. I suppose such a thing colors one's perspective. Baby needs nourishment...<br />
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<b>Daddy cuts the cord. </b> We prefer to wait until after the cord stops pulsing for that cut. Then my husband takes the scissors and does the deed. He's done it for each and every birth, it's sort of a tradition.<br />
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<b>Birthing the placenta.</b> This is always a slightly annoying process for me, but it's never been too dramatic. The baby is handed off to Daddy, and I get to work with my midwife. I often have to shift positions and try for a while to get the thing out. Ella's birth was different, though - I think that placenta was born in record time! (A thousand yays!) I was even prepared this time around with clary sage essential oil, but there was no need for it. The kids have enjoyed getting to see the placenta which nourished the baby for so many months. Our second son still talks about how he got to touch it after Gabriel was born. I don't know much about who studied or touched it this time, and we don't do anything special with it. I take no issue with those who do, we just haven't bothered.</div>
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<i>(Edit: Michele my doula tells me that she did indeed apply clary sage before the placenta was born. Apparently I was too over-the-moon happy to notice!)</i></div>
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<b>The Egyptian princess routine.</b> This is my nickname for the process which takes place when I get out of the tub. Two women help me to stand up, while a third stands ready with a big towel. They take off my wet clothes, dry me off, make sure I don't feel wobbly (I never do!) and fetch me something to wear. I always feel like an Egyptian princess climbing out of the Nile, or maybe even a milk bath: pampered and well-attended. After I'm enveloped in a big fluffy robe, my chux pad and I make our way to the bed, which is a mere few feet away.<br />
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<b>The mama exam. </b> Slightly awkward but necessary. 'Nough said.<br />
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<b>The baby exam. </b>This is much more fun, at least from my perspective. While I recline on my pillow, dry and happy, I watch my baby get weighed, measured, and checked for a half a million things, from how soft (bendy) his or her ears are to those prized Apgar scores. They check baby's reflexes and take measurements. The little one doesn't always enjoy this process, but the ladies have enough experience and tenderness that the process is still fun to watch. Then the baby is diapered and dressed (my midwife loves to do this personally) and given back to Mama, if I'm lucky. If not, s/he makes the rounds to be photographed by and with Grandma, Grandpa, Daddy, and the siblings.<br />
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<b>I am fed.</b> Labor makes this mama hungry! Usually it's scrambled eggs and toast, though all through this last labor I was envisioning a lovely grilled cheese sandwich made with <a href="http://myheartbeets.com/paleo-naan-indian-bread/">this gluten-free flatbread.</a> I got my heart's desire, and it was absolutely delicious...but I was still hungry, so my doula brought me some warm potato soup. Lovely and filling!<br />
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<b>The kids get acquainted.</b> There is oohing and aahing, holding and kissing. It's a sweet, sweet time. And then the kids go to bed.<br />
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<b>Everyone goes home. </b>I am given a set of instructions: things to look out for, when to call with concerns, etc. Then, assuming I have already used the toilet (an important part of the recovery process!), everyone goes home. Well...everyone except for my wonderful in-laws, who stay the night to wrangle the older kids and help feed us the next day. They're fantastic, really - but I don't want to make you jealous, so I won't go into all they do for us during that time. Let's just say, we are very blessed!<br />
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That's it. We snuggle into bed and go to sleep, thankful and exhausted. <br />
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And if we're very, very lucky, the baby sleeps too. <br />
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<i>*All photos are courtesy of Amanda at A.R.T. Photography. Please visit <a href="http://www.a-r-t-photography.com/" style="text-decoration: underline;">her website</a> for more gorgeous examples of her work. <u><a href="https://www.facebook.com/likeA.R.T.photography">HERE</a></u> is a link to her Facebook page. More birth photos to come!</i><br />
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<img src="http://signatures.mylivesignature.com/54488/34/ABC1E6B632E560555E8CCDDAC85ED897.png" />Mindyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10914061059726574864noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5161344181552514827.post-30155377460123047432014-01-08T18:00:00.003-08:002014-01-08T18:00:43.274-08:00sisters<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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Mindyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10914061059726574864noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5161344181552514827.post-69654293363657202842014-01-02T08:30:00.000-08:002014-01-02T08:30:59.781-08:00Ella's Birth Story<span style="text-align: left;">Waiting to go into labor for the sixth time, I tried to be patient...and I think overall I succeeded. Over the years I have learned that my babies come later than they do for many women, and I've made an uneasy peace with that. And yet as that 40 weeks mark drew near, I couldn't help but wonder if this might be the birth that would surprise us all - might this baby be a little more eager to leave my womb?</span>
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The answer to that question was "no." And although I started having more and more regular contractions around 37 weeks, the time went on and still my baby remained comfortably tucked away. I sighed and wished things were different, but I reminded myself regularly that our babies have always come when they were ready, and the healthy, smooth labors and births have always been worth the wait...and of course, the healthy baby.</div>
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On Friday night, when I was 41 weeks and 3 days, my husband and I turned in early. We'd been trying to do that as often as possible, since we well remembered how difficult it could be to be labor while exhausted. Our last two babies had been evening births after an afternoon of labor, but who could say how this one would go?</div>
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Two hours later I awoke to the sensation of a warm spurt of wetness between my legs. I slipped out of bed and got the testing strips my midwife had given me. Was this amniotic fluid? The amount and the fact that my testing strip turned blue led me to believe that it was. A few minutes later I climbed back into bed to wait. Would contractions start soon? They did, and with a tinge of intensity which had been missing from the previous few weeks' warm-up. Still, they weren't too painful yet, so I tried to rest. My husband Jeff sensed that something was afoot, and although I encouraged him to go back to sleep, he wanted to know what was going on. Before very long we decided to call my midwife Katherine, to let her know what was going on. After all, this was our sixth birth - and her instructions said to call her immediately if the waters broke. We decided that I would call her back when things were more exciting. I also called my friend Michele, who was planning to join us for the labor in the role of a <u><a href="http://www.quintessentialbirth.com/#!doula/cagb">doula</a></u>. She had a 2-3 hour drive to get to our house, so I wanted to give her plenty of time. Around 1:30 AM we called Jeff's parents, who would come for the birth and to watch over our children. During all this time I continued to have contractions at 9-10 minutes apart (some a bit closer), the low, crampy variety. I also began to experience loose bowels -- a signal that birth is in the not-too-distant future -- which was to continue through early afternoon.</div>
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Michele arrived around 3:00 AM, and my in-laws not too long after that. And then one of my great labor-fears came true: things petered out. My contractions grew irregular and less noteworthy, and by 6:00 AM things seemed to have pretty much stopped. We tried a variety of different techniques to get things rolling again - massage, essential oils, lunges. And Jeff and I rested a bit here and there. I talked to my midwife again around 6:00 AM, and then I slipped into the bathroom to shower. I felt so discouraged at that moment. What was going on? Why had my labor stalled? Had we called everyone here for nothing? I was horrified. What had I done?</div>
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Katherine came over mid-morning to talk things over. She felt confident that I was going to have the baby that day, but I wasn't so sure. I needed to be in labor for that to happen, and at that moment I had nothing going on. Katherine did a cervical check (I was at 3 cm) and at my request swept my membranes. We discussed various other ways to get things going: using a breast pump, castor oil. She ended up going by her office to pick up these things for me to have as resources, and then she left for a while, still feeling positive. I ate lunch, did a couple of rounds with the <a href="http://www.amazon.com/Medela-Pump-Style-Advanced-Breast/dp/B004HWXCJS/ref=sr_1_1?ie=UTF8&qid=1388624902&sr=8-1&keywords=pump+in+style+medela" style="text-decoration: underline;">Pump In Style</a>, and took a few short naps. I was having contractions again, but they felt tentative, as if any little change might startle them away. I felt pretty low; if it was happening any time soon, it was going so slowly. We were already operating on very little sleep and the day was passing by. I felt desperate to <i>do </i>something. </div>
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I must stop here and say that I had no pressure from those around me. My in-laws were cheerfully taking care of the kids (and doing household chores!). My husband, though weary, was being sweet and supportive. My doula seemed tirelessly patient in her care for me. My midwife was cheerful and upbeat. </div>
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But I needed to do something. And so I did something I have never been tempted to do, something I never imagined myself doing.</div>
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I took castor oil.</div>
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I don't know if this qualifies as impatient or brave. Regardless, I felt sure that's what I wanted to do, and even now I don't regret it. It wasn't horrible, and much to my surprise I had absolutely no digestive side effects. My dose was small (1 Tablespoon), as per Katherine's instructions. Almost immediately I began having more regular contractions. This was encouraging...but two hours later I made the decision (sanctioned by my midwife!) to take another tablespoon. And this was when things really perked up. Strong contractions, although not very lengthy, were coming closer and closer together.</div>
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I was overjoyed! I clung to my husband during the surges, wrapping my arms around his neck and leaning into his masculine body. I dropped to my knees and leaned on my birth ball. I vocalized over and over with low tones of "ohh" and "ahh." My children began to wander upstairs to quietly check in with me, and my 3-year-old daughter was adoringly attentive to my needs. I called my birth photographer Amanda, and gave her a head's up...then not too long after that, I called again and asked her to come on over. Things were happening! My midwife was on her way again to my house, my body was back on track. This was it. This was <i>it</i>!</div>
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And it really was. By the time my midwife arrived, the tub was filled and I was so incredibly ready to get in. The candles were lit, Michele had something wonderful in the essential oils diffuser, and the birth affirmations I'd placed around the bathroom were ready to encourage me. I got into the tub around 7:45 PM, immediately sinking into the warm relief of the water. I breathed deeply, and as the power of the contractions grew stronger, I listened to the voices around encouraging me. "Deep breaths, that's it..." "You're doing great, you can do this." "Just imagine yourself floating over the contractions..." Hands stroked my forehead. My husband massaged my legs. And I floated, now firmly in labor land, the land of increasing intensity, of more and more powerful contractions and the strength women draw from within for the task at hand. I was taking each contraction as it came, telling myself that each surge brought me closer to meeting my baby - my baby! Because that's what this was all about: this day, this journey, this series of pains. It was about my baby. Bringing my baby earthside. Closer, closer...</div>
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My sweet little doula-daughter was back at my side, fresh from a bath of her own. She continued with her gentle ministrations; her ever-present smile inspired me to press on. </div>
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And then it was time to push. Pushing, that most hated part of labor. The most intense, the most painful, the most uncontrollable. But I was ready.</div>
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Even so, I took it slow, waiting for the undeniable cues from my body, pushing during the contraction and waiting to let the tissues stretch. And then I heard my husband say that he could see the head, and I reached down and ...amazing. What motivation to feel that little head, to know how close my precious one was, so close! </div>
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A few loud pushes later, I felt her leave my body. Her daddy caught her in the water, and I soon held her to my chest...my baby. <i>Here</i>. Together we discovered that God had sent our family a little girl, and we shared her name with those around us. <i>Ella Sharon</i>. A beautiful, perfect, healthy baby girl. </div>
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The other children drifted into the room, and we sang our daughter her lullaby. I wept as I reveled in our happiness; we are so happy and blessed by this indescribable gift!</div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjWlfjmg6BDR3ScYQ8E9Oe4QiCy0u0eZAaCXoXMz-In4prXXcySfp6eAY7KBb5I69ogxHBiGKJrfyJWkCJw3MwYYl-H7N7cP6hWed-RL13MxI4ls1UMst-ApT92ooTyfn58YnIlxG4-s1B7/s1600/2013-12-29+11.36.38-1.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjWlfjmg6BDR3ScYQ8E9Oe4QiCy0u0eZAaCXoXMz-In4prXXcySfp6eAY7KBb5I69ogxHBiGKJrfyJWkCJw3MwYYl-H7N7cP6hWed-RL13MxI4ls1UMst-ApT92ooTyfn58YnIlxG4-s1B7/s320/2013-12-29+11.36.38-1.jpg" width="216" /></a></div>
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<i>Ella Sharon</i></div>
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<i>8 lb, 2 oz</i></div>
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<i>December 28, 2013</i></div>
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<img src="http://signatures.mylivesignature.com/54488/34/ABC1E6B632E560555E8CCDDAC85ED897.png" />Mindyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10914061059726574864noreply@blogger.com9tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5161344181552514827.post-7989352005744829192013-12-30T20:26:00.000-08:002014-01-01T12:56:26.558-08:00It's a girl!<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiwC95DFNErke2WWha8IuYJmEUpqOHj3I_TkHcB_NhfWbswFglyTP_2iVgIKR-BHauh_zb_4RRaBBDCfZqmsoZesRST-XxtClqk6CuLZQbXNnmKjpARj3VxIhQKSWW_CRQYs2phWn3qPVAn/s1600/2013-12-30+12.49.56.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiwC95DFNErke2WWha8IuYJmEUpqOHj3I_TkHcB_NhfWbswFglyTP_2iVgIKR-BHauh_zb_4RRaBBDCfZqmsoZesRST-XxtClqk6CuLZQbXNnmKjpARj3VxIhQKSWW_CRQYs2phWn3qPVAn/s320/2013-12-30+12.49.56.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>
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Ella Sharon </div>
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Born at home December 28, 2013 at 8:50 PM, in the water</div>
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8 lb 2 oz</div>
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20.5 inches</div>
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Caught by her daddy and adored by her siblings</div>
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<tr><td><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgwvjQCrX7oRLpXS-eksq87v09Tlazw28H79Lc4jD-eCRbESHn6Wt-X-L6JSr2s9GADncppLbtURJbR-VLCIRB3a4RzYcPHKDhBiCoHyXmN33A5LenSH9q9AWc-gfquSFWxl45AawRtsNQY/s1600/2013-12-29+11.56.37.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="244" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgwvjQCrX7oRLpXS-eksq87v09Tlazw28H79Lc4jD-eCRbESHn6Wt-X-L6JSr2s9GADncppLbtURJbR-VLCIRB3a4RzYcPHKDhBiCoHyXmN33A5LenSH9q9AWc-gfquSFWxl45AawRtsNQY/s320/2013-12-29+11.56.37.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="font-size: 13px;">Ella's first roses, from her daddy<br />
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<img src="http://signatures.mylivesignature.com/54488/34/ABC1E6B632E560555E8CCDDAC85ED897.png" /></td></tr>
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Mindyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10914061059726574864noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5161344181552514827.post-89695335473678947302013-12-18T09:41:00.000-08:002013-12-18T09:41:08.136-08:00the boy who made me a mama<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgpXV8m3r32wtzT0m_2Qbz0_VxEZWLbZ1U5mBXSXEeKIV4zeXiVwPptWH9xuC4bijAjU8yWLT-bBAiziNnnVzL6DlItJMUGbPwPRV9cST3dHFDV7pkDcj8AkVqyJzwC-4d5iMHWk26v1FmS/s1600/2013-12-18+09.35.49.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgpXV8m3r32wtzT0m_2Qbz0_VxEZWLbZ1U5mBXSXEeKIV4zeXiVwPptWH9xuC4bijAjU8yWLT-bBAiziNnnVzL6DlItJMUGbPwPRV9cST3dHFDV7pkDcj8AkVqyJzwC-4d5iMHWk26v1FmS/s320/2013-12-18+09.35.49.jpg" width="231" /></a></div>
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Happy Birthday to my Benjamin, the boy who made me a mama. It's hard to believe that he is 11 years old today, and yet he shows us more responsibility and consideration every day. We are so thankful for this boy, and we thank God for him every single day!</div>
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If you'd like to read Ben's birth story, click <a href="http://forbeautifulbeginnings.blogspot.com/2008/09/benjamins-birth-story.html">HERE</a>. </div>
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<img src="http://signatures.mylivesignature.com/54488/34/ABC1E6B632E560555E8CCDDAC85ED897.png" /></div>
Mindyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10914061059726574864noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5161344181552514827.post-23703091118716483702013-12-17T08:58:00.001-08:002013-12-17T08:58:27.634-08:0040 weeks<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhBGrECDm5rjHH8dJsfqqhxtTxmgVt-o6VXyuxb47A4uxksBZrx8PbIoeSMARxNjj67umTIZbATRBrgl5yYu6Y3NoKyrdAFvTZqg9R48U-g4s9OugDkoxyrQVKRJTivsoPpg2PoxoVPB9QS/s1600/2013-12-17+07.13.43.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhBGrECDm5rjHH8dJsfqqhxtTxmgVt-o6VXyuxb47A4uxksBZrx8PbIoeSMARxNjj67umTIZbATRBrgl5yYu6Y3NoKyrdAFvTZqg9R48U-g4s9OugDkoxyrQVKRJTivsoPpg2PoxoVPB9QS/s320/2013-12-17+07.13.43.jpg" width="182" /></a></div>
<br />
Today I'm 40 weeks along in my pregnancy! For me, this is when the <i>real </i>countdown begins. How many days past the EDD will this birth-day be?<br />
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Will child #2 continue to hold the record as the earliest baby at 5 days "late"? I sincerely hope this little one doesn't go for a new record of lateness...<br />
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This morning my children sang a rousing rendition of "Happy Due Date to You" (tune of "Happy Birthday"). I hadn't even reminded them (we try to be low-key about due date stuff around this house)...so sweet!<br />
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<img src="http://signatures.mylivesignature.com/54488/34/ABC1E6B632E560555E8CCDDAC85ED897.png" />Mindyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10914061059726574864noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5161344181552514827.post-22837327134925029372013-12-16T08:30:00.000-08:002013-12-16T08:30:01.088-08:00a few critical updates!<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi5YLwZMOfV4j0KZh1PTGLXPDGRe3JbHZIMiYkbB3xX9zdb-G1PEDl-3iWyJeU9okmwtIhbOVwRYz0Geq-3Wmto9SKQK6GDI0dix-WeuFMQtFrzz61Js526p1H0xirMXQAuVj-gyW45kaKq/s1600/2013-12-13+18.12.15.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi5YLwZMOfV4j0KZh1PTGLXPDGRe3JbHZIMiYkbB3xX9zdb-G1PEDl-3iWyJeU9okmwtIhbOVwRYz0Geq-3Wmto9SKQK6GDI0dix-WeuFMQtFrzz61Js526p1H0xirMXQAuVj-gyW45kaKq/s1600/2013-12-13+18.12.15.jpg" height="240" width="320" /></a></div>
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I had my belly drawing last week!</div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgugolBX3kx1i2HPVHJo4pyky8Su__iidW1AsZG5B1G8afnCjAiW0BQvoBwankBdDiM0i_lrdLK5kXGB9S-hImaH-8xyJdZQmd9KqggTogG7bXZ1qrLpVc-Og08eEUkvaqaydF9NP-2ZqCb/s1600/2013-12-13+18.11.14.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgugolBX3kx1i2HPVHJo4pyky8Su__iidW1AsZG5B1G8afnCjAiW0BQvoBwankBdDiM0i_lrdLK5kXGB9S-hImaH-8xyJdZQmd9KqggTogG7bXZ1qrLpVc-Og08eEUkvaqaydF9NP-2ZqCb/s1600/2013-12-13+18.11.14.jpg" height="320" width="240" /></a></div>
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Got my last prenatal massage on Saturday!</div>
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After 9 weeks of warranty drama and many tears, we have a <i>new </i>washing machine being delivered today!</div>
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The fridge is clean!</div>
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The laundry is caught up!</div>
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My due date is tomorrow!</div>
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I now have <u><a href="http://sweetsmallstuff.blogspot.com/2013/12/top-10-6-reasons-baby-can-stay-put-bit.html">soup for the freezer</a></u>!</div>
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All the bathrooms are clean!</div>
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<u><a href="http://sweetsmallstuff.blogspot.com/2013/12/top-10-reasons-id-love-to-have-my-baby.html">The scarf party</a></u> is tonight! </div>
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The pantry and fridge are stocked - again!</div>
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I've started eating raw dairy again! (I know, it doesn't have anything to do with the rest of this theme, but it makes me a very, very happy girl!)</div>
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And perhaps most importantly, after a week of moping and feeling uber-impatient, I am feeling more at peace with the Wait. I'm okay with a little more time to sleep, work on projects, play with my kids, and dream about my baby. </div>
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Even so, we're ready...just saying. I would love so much to have this baby before Christmas. Lord-willing!</div>
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<img src="http://signatures.mylivesignature.com/54488/34/ABC1E6B632E560555E8CCDDAC85ED897.png" /></div>
Mindyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10914061059726574864noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5161344181552514827.post-3913592704994532672013-12-13T08:30:00.000-08:002013-12-13T08:30:00.570-08:00Top 10 6 Reasons the Baby Can Stay Put (a bit longer)So...in an effort to present a balanced perspective and all, I thought I'd offer my Top 10 Reasons the Baby Can Stay Put. Sadly I was unable to come up with a full 10, so we shall have to make do with six. Still, I think my six are fairly compelling.<br />
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<i>Top <strike>10</strike> 6 Reasons the Baby Can Stay Put (a bit longer)</i><br />
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1) <b>I still need to clean my refrigerator.</b><br />
'Nough said. <br />
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2) <b>I enjoy sleep.</b><br />
Really. And while there is something sweet and bonding about those dimly-lit nursing sessions, those moments snuggling in the rocking chair...well, sleep is just lovely. You understand, right?<br />
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3) <b> I'm going to this scarf exchange...</b><br />
...and it's going to be a lot of fun, and I don't want to miss it.<br />
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4) <b> There are no prepared meals in the freezer.</b><br />
It pains me to admit this. Generally at this point in a pregnancy, I have at least, at the very least, four or five meals in the freezer, usually more. But this time? Nothing. Oh, I have a lot of grass-fed beef and some pastured chickens, among other things. I mean, we have <i>food</i>. But prepared meals? Nada. Truly I think it's mostly because with this diet I'm kind of struggling with finding meals that (1) I can eat, (2) freeze well, and (3) my family enjoys. But I'll think of something. Besides, I may lighten up the restrictions a bit for those first few weeks postpartum, so we'll see. Or maybe I'll just freeze a bunch of things that my family can have, and then for myself I'll scramble an egg or something...<br />
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5) <b>I'm re-reading my beloved <u>Ina May's Guide to Childbirth</u>...</b><br />
...and it would be good to finish before the baby comes. Just in case I've gotten rusty in the past two years, or this birth throws me some surprises.<br />
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6) <b>It's best for everyone if the baby is truly ready.</b><br />
Maybe it sounds trite, but I believe that it's best to wait until the baby is ready. Did you know <u>that research suggests that the baby's brain sends out a signal when the time comes for it to be born</u>? I suspect that it aids in the labor process as well. After, it seems that if the baby is ready, the mama's body is likely to be "ripe" as well. <br />
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There you have it, my <strike>10</strike> 6 reasons. We'll see what happens. With my track record (all my babies have arrived well past their due dates), I'm not holding my breath for an early arrival...<br />
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<img src="http://signatures.mylivesignature.com/54488/34/ABC1E6B632E560555E8CCDDAC85ED897.png" />Mindyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10914061059726574864noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5161344181552514827.post-87576009553961485682013-12-12T08:30:00.000-08:002013-12-12T08:30:00.666-08:00stevia-sweetened chocolate bars<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgpdPHaFEiQSJTpyQNTcpzjyeZz2XPPw8IbmpY-0P_J9lEaMAgJgRxiLA7ngA6Bw9mqoywH3K6mAm18yl_aeLXhiImprDPTo6tzcZvQQ2WsD4ou1DJZX2mdonxHNRRtdNPhwo0xB5lcYS3D/s1600/2013-10-30+13.16.27.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgpdPHaFEiQSJTpyQNTcpzjyeZz2XPPw8IbmpY-0P_J9lEaMAgJgRxiLA7ngA6Bw9mqoywH3K6mAm18yl_aeLXhiImprDPTo6tzcZvQQ2WsD4ou1DJZX2mdonxHNRRtdNPhwo0xB5lcYS3D/s320/2013-10-30+13.16.27.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>
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Alright, so as I've mentioned before, I've been on this crazy diet since July. I'm thinking I will modify it a bit when the baby arrives, although I'm still unsure exactly what that will look like. But back in October I took it upon myself to make a change in what I was allowing myself. I decided to bring cocoa powder back into my life.<br />
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See, on the Body Ecology Diet, cocoa powder isn't allowed, at least not for a long time. But I know of other anti-Candida diets which do allow it. For me, after three months without, it ended up being a quality of life issue...of a sort. So I decided to try it, and I've been a quite a bit more fulfilled since that day, I've gotta tell you!<br />
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I played around with some quality ingredients and came out with a stevia-sweetened chocolate recipe I really like. In all kindness, I decided to share it here with you, on the blog. Well, kindness, and also so I can find the recipe quickly and easily. I guess that qualifies as a win-win situation...?<br />
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<b><i>Stevia-Sweetened Chocolate Bars</i></b><br />
1 c. gently melted coconut oil<br />
1 T. alcohol-free vanilla<br />
dash sea salt<br />
1 t. milk chocolate liquid stevia or other stevia, to taste<br />
3/4 c. cocoa powder<br />
2 drops pure, food-safe essential oils, optional: cinnamon bark, orange, or peppermint are nice choices<br />
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Combine all ingredients in a large mixing bowl. Stir well. Pour into a pan* lined with parchment paper and refrigerate. The coconut oil gets really hard in the fridge, so you may want to set it out 5-10 minutes before you plan to cut and/or eat it. <br />
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*Pan size depends on how thick you'd like your chocolate. My perfect size is to use two loaf pans, but you could also use just one, or an 8x8 pan too. Feel free to experiment!<br />
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This chocolate is absolutely divine used in <u><a href="http://kathleen.peterro.com/2011/12/no-peanut-butter-for-you-nine-months/">my friend Kathleen's Sunbutter Cups recipe</a></u>!<br />
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<img src="http://signatures.mylivesignature.com/54488/34/ABC1E6B632E560555E8CCDDAC85ED897.png" />Mindyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10914061059726574864noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5161344181552514827.post-46492083709198286992013-12-11T10:04:00.002-08:002013-12-11T10:04:15.282-08:00Gabe is 2!<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjQ80-bT_fxxS7bV_6G3C0gcCjjQ12BVqsjzDOoWe9Zd9MKaXw17PKF-FMnpG6onsbukn_o__PfPOmw6MoU-h0UZ3-7zO7sgTz1HEHPCnNtuLI7spJn1D0F_ibyRswROqtYu49bTRZr9x8A/s1600/2013-12-11+09.48.30.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjQ80-bT_fxxS7bV_6G3C0gcCjjQ12BVqsjzDOoWe9Zd9MKaXw17PKF-FMnpG6onsbukn_o__PfPOmw6MoU-h0UZ3-7zO7sgTz1HEHPCnNtuLI7spJn1D0F_ibyRswROqtYu49bTRZr9x8A/s320/2013-12-11+09.48.30.jpg" width="226" /></a></div>
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<span style="background-color: white; color: #333333; font-family: 'lucida grande', tahoma, verdana, arial, sans-serif; font-size: 13px; line-height: 17px; text-align: left;">Happy 2nd Birthday to my Gabriel! He charms us, makes us laugh every single day, amazes us and sometimes drives us a little crazy. He is an incredible blessing...and I wouldn't trade him for anything!</span></div>
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<span style="color: #333333; font-family: lucida grande, tahoma, verdana, arial, sans-serif; font-size: x-small;"><span style="line-height: 17px;">Would you like to read his birth story? Click <u><a href="http://sweetsmallstuff.blogspot.com/2011/12/birth-story-of-gabriel-william.html">HERE</a></u>.</span></span></div>
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Mindyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10914061059726574864noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5161344181552514827.post-79673641037566488102013-12-10T14:43:00.003-08:002013-12-10T14:43:38.428-08:00the belly: a progression<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/AVvXsEj9HnahMhO6G2zOJrZd8XJyciRBpuU1T8Xiq2LtebtXu1cbn7IXdFR3D6OoTClG0MECtS36OrVhxd5Vc3188uyAHLZpQPqHI5-NndLrPqLwcwIexTahSqAh9U9UXaweKY3rONCBBPQxKruI/s1600/2013-11-19+10.47.06-2.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj9HnahMhO6G2zOJrZd8XJyciRBpuU1T8Xiq2LtebtXu1cbn7IXdFR3D6OoTClG0MECtS36OrVhxd5Vc3188uyAHLZpQPqHI5-NndLrPqLwcwIexTahSqAh9U9UXaweKY3rONCBBPQxKruI/s320/2013-11-19+10.47.06-2.jpg" width="178" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">36 weeks</td></tr>
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<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEifF-h0RSgV00EeCUIHZ1E9RUScP-PHUc9QNMtw15WnQsWdDhf2glLbKaP2M-URNa08VZss2c-tEGawNPbH-aACBWl3d3EwWwD1y9MKo6XVLflJGRczerv55Hy5Lom3nwNYnThyphenhyphengpZpQe_O/s1600/2013-11-26+07.53.04.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEifF-h0RSgV00EeCUIHZ1E9RUScP-PHUc9QNMtw15WnQsWdDhf2glLbKaP2M-URNa08VZss2c-tEGawNPbH-aACBWl3d3EwWwD1y9MKo6XVLflJGRczerv55Hy5Lom3nwNYnThyphenhyphengpZpQe_O/s320/2013-11-26+07.53.04.jpg" width="186" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">37 weeks</td></tr>
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<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiaoynd3IOIcsjhSYEmxRc76I2ioTF4bFEHYic07euuSaSNjkm-G0j2QOtKLLq0lIssBRrXrb6C2btxUrRRZSxrxFpx1fD5IP11WmxAaN-nMPusAnlD7ccw-VK3KLHeIcT5J8T_9laZyheh/s1600/2013-12-04+10.15.33.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiaoynd3IOIcsjhSYEmxRc76I2ioTF4bFEHYic07euuSaSNjkm-G0j2QOtKLLq0lIssBRrXrb6C2btxUrRRZSxrxFpx1fD5IP11WmxAaN-nMPusAnlD7ccw-VK3KLHeIcT5J8T_9laZyheh/s320/2013-12-04+10.15.33.jpg" width="198" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">38 weeks<br />
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</tbody></table>
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And the latest contribution to our collection:<br />
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<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiBzyCTNpocMysuQeIs7vzbUUWxBIIDPjauHfEJNYN8YQ9bqsqffN1FuVAKrT_mLlA9Ek66Bv1D5hQx-6293WzkvwbcfnsFwlOgyDt05ithi6881eGh71Cs7tMhN_3cfrOUln1ljqKQOtxj/s1600/2013-12-10+07.25.08-1.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiBzyCTNpocMysuQeIs7vzbUUWxBIIDPjauHfEJNYN8YQ9bqsqffN1FuVAKrT_mLlA9Ek66Bv1D5hQx-6293WzkvwbcfnsFwlOgyDt05ithi6881eGh71Cs7tMhN_3cfrOUln1ljqKQOtxj/s320/2013-12-10+07.25.08-1.jpg" width="169" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">39 weeks</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
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Mindyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10914061059726574864noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5161344181552514827.post-10442818682816563832013-12-09T08:00:00.000-08:002013-12-09T08:00:01.138-08:00Top 10 Reasons I'd Love to Have My Baby Soon1) <b>I'm tired of relying on my alarm clock to wake up.</b><br />
It's time to shake things up, to add a little spice to my life. Alarm clock, schmalarm clock. I'm ready to be awakened by a tiny, new human.<br />
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2) <b>My house is (nearly) as clean</b><b> as it's ever gonna get.</b><br />
With a few exceptions (anyone want to come clean out my fridge??), my home is currently as clean as it's going to get before this baby is born. I can't make any promises about how it might look three weeks from now, though. Come one, little person! Strike while the iron is hot!<br />
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3) <b>I could use a little break from my teething toddler.</b><br />
Yes, I do realize that this sentence makes me sound like a horrible mother. But honestly, this child has been an absolute bear lately. I get that (1) he's a toddler, and (2) he's teething, but...wowsa. Nursing around the clock might be a vacation compared to this...<br />
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4) <b>I am weary of drinking raspberry leaf tea. </b><br />
Not a bit tea drinker in the best of times, consuming this particular beverage on a regular basis is something of a chore for me. I'm doing it, though...you know, <a href="http://modernalternativepregnancy.com/2013/01/07/red-raspberry-leaf-the-wonder-herb-for-a-healthy-uterus/#">for uterine toning and stuff</a>. But once the babe arrives, I shall be finished. Okay, okay, I guess I should drink it during the postpartum period too. But it will seem like less of an obligation. Maybe I can get away with a little less of it, anyway...<br />
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5) <b>The suspense is killing us. </b><br />
Boy or girl? The Lord alone knows...<br />
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6) <b>I keep eating into my labor snack supplies. </b><br />
When you're on a funky diet like this, the things you are allowed to eat become special, almost sacred if you will. You protect them fiercely and, when you're really digging them, you want to eat them. I keep stocking up on legal snacks I suspect might appeal to me during labor, and then...I eat them. So then I have to make more... You see? It's a vicious cycle. <br />
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7) <b>I don't want to have to scrub the bathtub again.</b><br />
The soaker tub where I plan to birth this baby is scrubbed, shining, perfect. I've been longing for a bath but don't want the beautiful tub to need another cleaning. I want it to remain its lovely, spotless self. So for now I'm abstaining, but not forever. No, not forever.<br />
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8) <b>I'm going to this scarf exchange...</b><br />
The scarf exchange is the day before my due date, and I'm really looking forward to it! But see, I absolutely love the scarf I bought for the party. So if I have the baby first, I get to keep the scarf...<br />
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9) <b>I'd like to be able to reach stuff again. </b><br />
Using the kitchen sink has become a bit awkward. Things on the floor are difficult to reach. And as for putting on my shoes...well, I'll leave that to your imagination. <br />
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10) <b>There's this Christmas present under the tree...</b><br />
...and we'd really like to give it to the baby on Christmas. Although I suppose it will still serve its purpose a week or so later. <br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjaJuzkfArgDIb1Vf76OFc6Y8M3IeZc6J4BWWQryC3IiHDNFmP_oe9387KklA8ykaNZkvK2RyLXeAYDQIG4_XDPkrlsxuPHSirOqBAgE2sbjE-imrG19GwtlVvB_2uhVdJAPPOTpgEOLhW_/s1600/2010-01-13+10-14-24+Moved+in!.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjaJuzkfArgDIb1Vf76OFc6Y8M3IeZc6J4BWWQryC3IiHDNFmP_oe9387KklA8ykaNZkvK2RyLXeAYDQIG4_XDPkrlsxuPHSirOqBAgE2sbjE-imrG19GwtlVvB_2uhVdJAPPOTpgEOLhW_/s320/2010-01-13+10-14-24+Moved+in!.JPG" width="320" /></a></div>
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There you have them, my Top Ten Reasons I'd Like to Have My Baby Soon. Even so, since I'm just hitting 39 weeks on Tuesday, I likely have a while yet to go. The average "lateness" for our five children is 9.8 days past the due date, so I'm pacing myself, settling in for a bit more time. Still, I've love a surprise...<br />
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<img src="http://signatures.mylivesignature.com/54488/34/ABC1E6B632E560555E8CCDDAC85ED897.png" />Mindyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10914061059726574864noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5161344181552514827.post-66957937422366643812013-12-07T15:08:00.002-08:002013-12-07T15:08:40.351-08:00I stink. As a blogger, I mean. Two months since my last post? This may be the longest silence my poor blog has ever endured. And if there's anyone out there who still cares about, much less remembers my little blog...well, God bless you.<br />
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I could say I've been busy, but the fact of the matter is that I simply haven't felt like writing. Not really, anyway. Sometimes I'll have ideas, or compose little snips of things in my head, but as far as sitting down and putting words on the screen? I just didn't wanna. So there you have it, the best explanation I can come up with, the reason why I haven't been blogging?<br />
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I stink.<br />
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But here's the thing that's always appealed to me about blogging, at least the kind that I do: I am my own boss. If I am busy, out of ideas or simply don't feel like doing it, I don't have to. There are no deadlines, no bosses, no stress. Easy peasy. And when those creative juices start to flow, when I start to get the urge, I can hop back on and pick up where I left off - assuming I still have any readers out there. <br />
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Readers or not though, it's a good outlet for me. A chance for me to hash things out, focus my thoughts, maybe even get creative here and there. <br />
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So here's to blogging, the lazy way. The flakey way. <i>My </i>way, apparently.<br />
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<img src="http://signatures.mylivesignature.com/54488/34/ABC1E6B632E560555E8CCDDAC85ED897.png" />Mindyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10914061059726574864noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5161344181552514827.post-91956896594793231492013-10-07T08:30:00.000-07:002013-10-07T08:30:00.745-07:00why my kids are invited to the birth<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgqgucOSjKkB437L4Kegf3dy0QEisq0PKAvD7TIa8AxexxaN2G6_isqpgbw3J8wuQroXKmuN7trnhml3s3A2tnYT-J43X1myLMnpr0NSGl6UYgByOYPJPx5LtPSgnFwkKr9RwxWx2G-ID2I/s1600/2013-10-03+11.18.30.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgqgucOSjKkB437L4Kegf3dy0QEisq0PKAvD7TIa8AxexxaN2G6_isqpgbw3J8wuQroXKmuN7trnhml3s3A2tnYT-J43X1myLMnpr0NSGl6UYgByOYPJPx5LtPSgnFwkKr9RwxWx2G-ID2I/s320/2013-10-03+11.18.30.jpg" width="240" /></a></div>
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My husband and I are planning another home waterbirth for this baby's arrival. Our past birth experiences have been wonderful. Four of our five children were born at home, and all five had gentle waterbirths. We love the freedom of being in our own space, with people who trust the birth process - and yet are trained to deal with problems as they arise, too. </div>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">(photos taken in 2010 are not an accurate reflection of how tidy my bathroom is at present)</td></tr>
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It is so nice to be home for all of this - such a comfort to only be able to sleep in my own bed afterward, to know my children are being cared for nearby...and to not have make that horrible drive while in labor! Once we switched to homebirth, we knew we didn't want to go back.<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj56p2V0SgiVKKRQkf_cQ565UNsYTjGNgcGhvIhpOD1v-loKm_juYid7yI_IPgPN5riNkRDcNz4ewe0zbzhMGx5FyySmAxRv6BJqV0M4w4AULLE1qAtXbOPDYruTpDULLH2kcrpsflzuIr_/s1600/2010-01-13+10-14-24+Moved+in!.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj56p2V0SgiVKKRQkf_cQ565UNsYTjGNgcGhvIhpOD1v-loKm_juYid7yI_IPgPN5riNkRDcNz4ewe0zbzhMGx5FyySmAxRv6BJqV0M4w4AULLE1qAtXbOPDYruTpDULLH2kcrpsflzuIr_/s320/2010-01-13+10-14-24+Moved+in!.JPG" width="320" /></a></div>
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When I first began to consider having my child/children present in the birthing room, I was unsure. Would it be weird? Would I scar my son for ever? Would the things he saw and heard frighten him? I don't remember an actual decision being made when our second child was born. Our oldest was not yet three years old, my labor was during the night, and the baby was born in the wee small hours of the morning. We asked Jeff's parents to wake our toddler up to meet his new brother, and that was that. </div>
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But after that point, I'd really started to consider inviting my children to be present for our births. When I was expecting baby #3, our oldest was five years old, and he asked to be there - but once again it was very, very early in the morning, so we let him sleep.</div>
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The next time was a little different, though. When I went into labor with my daughter (aka baby #4), it was the afternoon, and she ended up being born in early evening. The timing was perfect - I hadn't been laboring all through the night, and right about the time all the excitement died down and the baby dozed off, it was bedtime. But even better than that? My boys got to be there. </div>
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Yes, they were there, all lined up beside the tub like stair-steps. They'd been floating back and forth between the birthing room and the family room, but they were summoned (by the birth team or by my sounds? I'll never know.) at the end and they were able to see their sister enter the world.</div>
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It was beautiful. And then they went off to bed. </div>
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When my youngest child was born, the two oldest boys were there again (the others were already in bed). You may remember that <u><a href="http://sweetsmallstuff.blogspot.com/2011/12/birth-story-of-gabriel-william.html">they were very attentive to me, and played a role in my support team</a></u>. That made a big impression on this mama.</div>
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So here are my reasons to inviting the children to attend the birth of the wee one. In no particular order:</div>
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~I've been told that <b>most kids do fine at a birth, as long as they <u>want </u>to be there. </b></div>
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We would never force our kids to be present while I was laboring. If they want to be there and it's not a problem for me or the birth team, great. If they don't, that's completely fine too.</div>
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~<b>We've read and talked about the process. </b></div>
They understand, even my 3-year-old daughter, that labor and childbirth are hard work. They get that it can hurt. I've told them that it helps the mama to make noises, sometimes strange noises. And we've read books. Our favorite homebirth book, pictured above, is "<a href="http://www.amazon.com/Hello-Baby-Jenni-Overend/dp/1845071107/ref=tmm_pap_swatch_0?_encoding=UTF8&sr=&qid=">Hello Baby</a>" by Jenni Overend. Told from the youngest child's perspective, it is the story of a family welcoming their fourth child into the world, in their home, in front of a fire on a blustery night. And it has absolutely beautiful illustrations!<br />
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~<b>They've seen me in labor.</b><br />
In addition to the boys' presence at my last two labors, we have all the kids' births on video. They have seen them many times. In fact, they've seen a lot of birth videos; <u><a href="http://sweetsmallstuff.blogspot.com/2009/12/my-not-so-secret-obsession.html">that's what happens when mama is pregnant</a></u>. My daughter loves to cuddle up beside me and watch whatever birth videos I'm sobbing my way through. I've even shown Gabriel a few; he views them with great interest and tenderly points out the "baby!" That's one of the biggest factors, for me...that the kids have seen and heard what it can be like. If the things they hear are not scary to them, they'll likely not be fazed to see their mother behaving like that during labor and childbirth.<br />
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There are no guarantees here. If it's not working for the kids to be present, or if it's in the very middle of the night, then they may not be there. I expect to be in the bathroom again, in my tub, and although we have a nice-sized room, it could get a little crowded...so we'll see. <br />
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But if it seems like a good fit, and if they want to be there, my children are welcome to be with me when their new sibling is born. After all, it is our family...growing. Beautifully, astoundingly...joyously.<br />
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<img src="http://signatures.mylivesignature.com/54488/34/ABC1E6B632E560555E8CCDDAC85ED897.png" />Mindyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10914061059726574864noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5161344181552514827.post-23679970712674461482013-10-05T14:58:00.001-07:002013-10-05T14:58:58.195-07:00an autumn tradition<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgPmAhLDfO9vVy-bcdu9Jw0MdxczQx-CD7nNBwwdEJx5jLpbNKl-mCn-agiDUFrbIQsFF6U8WaYa2xpQlixKVtLIl3LTebmUcVmz4r81WktXZ6LFDaVzHuwE3KXg1zivj2JfKH9MKJOvJfF/s1600/Photo+Oct+04,+12+40+45+PM.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgPmAhLDfO9vVy-bcdu9Jw0MdxczQx-CD7nNBwwdEJx5jLpbNKl-mCn-agiDUFrbIQsFF6U8WaYa2xpQlixKVtLIl3LTebmUcVmz4r81WktXZ6LFDaVzHuwE3KXg1zivj2JfKH9MKJOvJfF/s320/Photo+Oct+04,+12+40+45+PM.jpg" width="240" /></a></div>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhJRZfupK22ym5LLVXsIfu0y0vM80dP4Rhyq3XEAXf-o9CpvjXX2BZbBQsRLlAkcxY5BNr32jZO8TJEeUNKDFJ3g_xzgZSotjP9tygVARl4b4Xbf2IOp5DFAcatE1vgTLaw2XCaoFucBDRT/s1600/2013-10-04+11.53.58.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhJRZfupK22ym5LLVXsIfu0y0vM80dP4Rhyq3XEAXf-o9CpvjXX2BZbBQsRLlAkcxY5BNr32jZO8TJEeUNKDFJ3g_xzgZSotjP9tygVARl4b4Xbf2IOp5DFAcatE1vgTLaw2XCaoFucBDRT/s320/2013-10-04+11.53.58.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">'twas a circus theme this year</td></tr>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">"lost" in the corn maze</td></tr>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjnXSjiAeIVsViQIRGf2KdedVPYHH5r1e7W2dehyphenhyphen2DZxr4QT3dZcUPEUYoJMCDB1LkT7p1QYKJfSGahABygc7V9njire4mYy7ENHJfk0bvKJcnb7PF3tIKZ5G6lRdzZnI-vzZ_e1KapM9f-/s1600/2013-10-04+10.53.06.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjnXSjiAeIVsViQIRGf2KdedVPYHH5r1e7W2dehyphenhyphen2DZxr4QT3dZcUPEUYoJMCDB1LkT7p1QYKJfSGahABygc7V9njire4mYy7ENHJfk0bvKJcnb7PF3tIKZ5G6lRdzZnI-vzZ_e1KapM9f-/s320/2013-10-04+10.53.06.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>
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<br />Mindyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10914061059726574864noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5161344181552514827.post-77689911994132267372013-09-27T13:56:00.001-07:002013-09-27T13:56:02.747-07:00my birthday do-over<div style="text-align: center;">
Yesterday I had <a href="http://sweetsmallstuff.blogspot.com/2013/09/worst-birthday-ever.html">a birthday do-over</a>, of sorts.</div>
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It involved using the new dishes I bought with my birthday money (thanks, Mama, Daddy, Mom and Dad!)...</div>
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...a couple games with a newly-minted 8-year-old...</div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhfMRTQvL9rMz1L4XkSza6AP85HQmpJHxdLf89u7_3Vm9qdmfBNLZR61muavXs_OlrYCksAxe7bBVaaoRMYdKiK3PYquCeTLpIjsNDYr8AcBhk6NmB7Rr471WWt3SBxZVuak76m21CQF06L/s1600/2013-09-26+14.53.43-1.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhfMRTQvL9rMz1L4XkSza6AP85HQmpJHxdLf89u7_3Vm9qdmfBNLZR61muavXs_OlrYCksAxe7bBVaaoRMYdKiK3PYquCeTLpIjsNDYr8AcBhk6NmB7Rr471WWt3SBxZVuak76m21CQF06L/s320/2013-09-26+14.53.43-1.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>
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...a delicious Prime Rib dinner...</div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgbhtfyA64UO-ZcJmzBY1EovcYV8ULzXQt_J3KvhoE8G8oBXuZP2e8FYF4fvkCOUx_59SEKVdgRPywGPwm79IuWpAHMIoBc3s8rxC7EI99cSiPtO_xDgd57ZNjpltVUdebJ5vjxpDTZWp26/s1600/2013-09-26+18.24.57.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgbhtfyA64UO-ZcJmzBY1EovcYV8ULzXQt_J3KvhoE8G8oBXuZP2e8FYF4fvkCOUx_59SEKVdgRPywGPwm79IuWpAHMIoBc3s8rxC7EI99cSiPtO_xDgd57ZNjpltVUdebJ5vjxpDTZWp26/s320/2013-09-26+18.24.57.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>
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...and time stepping out with my beautiful family. Priceless!</div>
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Mindyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10914061059726574864noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5161344181552514827.post-27540868469210547132013-09-26T09:10:00.000-07:002013-09-26T09:11:42.993-07:00and now he is 8<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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Our dearest Kyle is turning 8 today! In honor of the event (though actually he's felt even older than 8 for awhile now...), I thought I'd post his birth story here on the blog. I promise that I won't do it for every child's birthday, every year, but sometimes it's a sweet way to mark the occasion. <br />
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We love you, Kyle! You are a wonderful kid, smart, loyal, honest, and an amazing big brother. Have a brilliant birthday!<br />
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<tt style="background-color: white; color: #804000; line-height: 20.796875px;">Kyle Warren<br />September 26, 2005<br />5:15 A.M.<br /><br />On Sunday, my contractions began to feel more like powerful menstrual<br />cramps than the tightening sensations they had been before By 10 P.M. my husband<br />and I were pretty certain that this was It. We called our midwife and the<br />birth team headed right over. We also called our parents. By 11 P.M. or so<br />the team was assembled, and at around 11:45 my in-laws arrived.<br /><br />Around 12:15 or so I requested a vaginal exam. The suspense was killing<br />me! I was 5 cm and 100% effaced, and my midwife said I was far enough along<br />that I could get into the tub whenever I wanted. (My husband had started filling<br />it after we made our phone calls at 10.) I relaxed through a few more<br />contractions, then decided to get in. My husband joined me after a few minutes,<br />and we labored together through most of the night. We were doing so well<br />as a unit that the birth team mostly hung out in the other room. Every<br />30 minutes someone came to check baby's heart tones, both during<br />contractions and not. During contractions I let my whole body float on<br />top of the water. It really helped, especially with the imagery of<br />"floating over a contraction."<br /><br />I think it was maybe around 3:45 or 4:00 A.M. that the contractions started<br />to feel pretty overwhelming. Between that and my oh-so-lovely vomiting<br />episode (thank goodness we were prepared for that, having remembered<br />what happened in my last labor), my husband & I were pretty sure were hitting<br />transition. When I would be working through a contraction, I would think<br />"This is so hard, I don't know if I can do this," but after the<br />contractions would end, I would remember that was classic transition.<br /><br />A little while later, I could literally feel myself opening up, and soon<br />I said "I feel like pushing." My husband was surprised (I never felt the urge my<br />my last labor) but kept his cool and called the birth team. I decided to<br />try getting on my knees and leaning my arms and forehead on the edge of<br />the tub. The pushing stage seemed like an eternity-- so I was shocked later,<br />when I found out that I only pushed about 25 minutes. Quite a change<br />from my last labor, where the pushing stage lasted almost 2 hours!!<br /><br />The time came. We could feel the baby's head. Even though I nearly<br />panicked a few times, I remembered to use low tones pretty consistently.<br />Soon the baby's head was born, and then the rest of him came slipping<br />out too.<br /><br />We had someone wake our 2 1/2-year-old son, so he could come and meet his<br />baby brother. He was pretty sleepy, but I'm glad we included him in the<br />moment.<br /><br />Kyle began nursing like it's what he was born to do with his life(a huge<br />relief considering the bumpy start I got off to with our first baby) and was ruddy and healthy. He weighed 8 lb 2 oz, and was 21 inches long. He is<br />such a joy to our family!</tt><br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEidREqeD7OJ6FOYhlnWxFaNyTzFSob1f_iJdo8-IYpNpv1-dsy7Y7rWT0PBQPjfnJ1OHf0zjl7Flv5vg3cF5iIOg7Zh4nGQwOa-MvNsu1U2f1CZ16tiQGGR4W_3FU3aQxPGTsWSEwutF5M/s1600-h/2005-09-26+13-16-45+Kyle+Warren+Isom.JPG" style="color: #804000;"><img alt="" border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEidREqeD7OJ6FOYhlnWxFaNyTzFSob1f_iJdo8-IYpNpv1-dsy7Y7rWT0PBQPjfnJ1OHf0zjl7Flv5vg3cF5iIOg7Zh4nGQwOa-MvNsu1U2f1CZ16tiQGGR4W_3FU3aQxPGTsWSEwutF5M/s400/2005-09-26+13-16-45+Kyle+Warren+Isom.JPG" style="border: 1px solid rgb(180, 123, 16); padding: 4px;" /></a></div>
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<img src="http://signatures.mylivesignature.com/54488/34/ABC1E6B632E560555E8CCDDAC85ED897.png" />Mindyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10914061059726574864noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5161344181552514827.post-91791480075207355032013-09-25T08:30:00.000-07:002013-09-25T08:30:00.279-07:00a new start<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">
Aprons and I have a checkered past. I wear them a lot. A <i>lot</i>. Primarily because: (1) I am an extraordinarily messy cook, and (2) I spend a lot of time working in the kitchen. So in order to protect my clothes, an apron is definitely in order. </div>
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Plus, I've found that during my clumsy pregnancies, an apron doubles nicely as a bib.</div>
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Back to my history with aprons. I've had some very cute ones in the past, but for unknown reasons, they always seem to end up getting ripped. Yes, ripped. I don't even know how it happens. I just discover holds, tears...rips. My last apron didn't even last two months before it looked like it ought to be made into rags.</div>
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<i>Sadness</i>.</div>
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After my last attempt (an adorable red number with white polka dots) I waited awhile, but then I started shopping around again. I'm a little bit particular about aprons, but I found a few that I really liked and put them on my wishlist.</div>
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Lo and behold, I received one as a birthday gift!</div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgzu4lfQ4XYenRuWUf5jnnzE3E5MLtPmyMm32D03nXuv9uO38Az9cAlB1xkD1eQGWYDEGtr_sXV_M84r5mHMfw0M2OfNxqqyIBfsnDGVOBbp_h51U6OPh5fIdVqvPM-pwHFdwxKdvyLbaOM/s1600/2013-09-23+09.53.22.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgzu4lfQ4XYenRuWUf5jnnzE3E5MLtPmyMm32D03nXuv9uO38Az9cAlB1xkD1eQGWYDEGtr_sXV_M84r5mHMfw0M2OfNxqqyIBfsnDGVOBbp_h51U6OPh5fIdVqvPM-pwHFdwxKdvyLbaOM/s320/2013-09-23+09.53.22.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>
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Isn't it cute?!<br />
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The material is a bit heavier than the aprons I've had in the past, so I have reason to believe that this will be a bit more sturdy, a bit more durable. Maybe it will stand the test of time...I sure hope so!<br />
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So here I am beginning again with another apron, ready to take on a myriad of kitchen projects. Birthdays, fall goodies, Christmastime. May the "citrus stripes" protect my wardrobe and bring cheer to those around me!<br />
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<img src="http://signatures.mylivesignature.com/54488/34/ABC1E6B632E560555E8CCDDAC85ED897.png" />Mindyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10914061059726574864noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5161344181552514827.post-62445986256171370912013-09-24T14:42:00.001-07:002013-09-24T14:42:21.097-07:00a milestone<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/AVvXsEjdZz31k0LOEkflEL0ZbD27A1glr03QpPhYbvYyLLiRD8CXwBG1BKXWXrut4zNqDb6fYRKlzcBFw0rk4t9vnPrQkufdAzPBrXd0bEINItEddIGxailieskwgnUJ4lajLKPvQnJf1bNYqTYu/s1600/2013-09-24+09.38.55.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjdZz31k0LOEkflEL0ZbD27A1glr03QpPhYbvYyLLiRD8CXwBG1BKXWXrut4zNqDb6fYRKlzcBFw0rk4t9vnPrQkufdAzPBrXd0bEINItEddIGxailieskwgnUJ4lajLKPvQnJf1bNYqTYu/s320/2013-09-24+09.38.55.jpg" width="243" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">(photo courtesy of my almost-8-year-old)</td></tr>
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Well hello there, 3rd trimester! So nice to see you!</div>
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Mindyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10914061059726574864noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5161344181552514827.post-25434845259577183032013-09-23T16:33:00.001-07:002013-09-23T16:33:47.858-07:00worst. birthday. ever.This year, my birthday started off with a great deal of promise. It was a crisp (almost) autumn day, and the sun was shining. We didn't have to go anywhere - always a bonus for this homebody - although we were planning to go out for dinner in the evening. <br />
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But then, I had a child who was coughing. Actually there were two of them. One whose job it was to set the table for breakfast, and he apparently felt so badly that I let him lay on the couch and rest. The other cough-er was my toddler, who is almost always difficult as I'm prepping breakfast anyway. And so, I found myself doing extra chores with a fussy toddler on my hip. Then I noticed that my back was hurting.<br />
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But things didn't really get bad until just after lunchtime. Suddenly I was coping with horrible muscle spasms in my back. This was a nearly paralyzing pain, which rendered me pretty much incapable of doing...anything. I'll spare you the details, but it wasn't pretty. In fact, it was all fairly ugly. I'm pretty sure I put up more of a fuss than I do during labor - first stage, anyway. (*wink*)<br />
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Still, it was terrible pain. I could do very little for myself, and it took Jeff and I a good 20 minutes to figure out how to get me off the couch...it just hurt so much. <br />
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And that's how the day went. Gone were our plans to go out for a celebratory dinner. My only goal at that point was to avoid or minimize the pain as much as possible. <br />
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So obviously, that aspect of my birthday stank.<br />
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But there were sweet moments, too.<br />
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My oldest son was very concerned. He stayed very close to me during the afternoon, calling his dad (who was coming home early, but didn't get home for a few hours after my distress began) and helping me as much as he could. At one point in the afternoon, he asked if he could pray for me. So precious!<br />
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My daughter patted my arm, smiled reassuringly, and said, "It will be okay, Mama. It will be okay." I wonder how she might do as a sort of child-doula...?<br />
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And then there is my sweet husband. <br />
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I cannot even begin to tell all the selfless things he did during my time of back trouble. He helped me use the bathroom. He convinced me that moving (off of the couch...onto the bed...) <i>would </i>be a good thing, even if it did hurt to bend myself. He helped me maneuver in and out of the bathtub, which was torturous. He served us all meals and took care of the kids. Time after time, he blew me away. <br />
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And that's just Thursday. There was <i>so </i>much more that he did over the next few days. He was amazing. A rock star.<br />
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He brought me flowers. And then moved them to where I was throughout the weekend, so I could enjoy them even while stranded on the couch.<br />
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There was a lot of time to read and watch "Call the Midwife" on Netflix. So there was that....silver linings and all.<br />
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But yeah...not the best birthday. In fact, it may actually be my worst, though the one when I turned 19 was pretty lousy too. <br />
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(I haven't even mentioned the fact that <a href="http://sweetsmallstuff.blogspot.com/2013/07/so-what-can-i-eat.html" style="text-decoration: underline;">I couldn't have a real birthday cake</a> this year, although there are certainly worse things to endure.)<br />
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I lived through one of those "worse things," though, and I came out on the other side. With the grace of God and the love of my family, I survived. <br />
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Next year, it will be different. Lord willing, it will be different!<br />
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<img src="http://signatures.mylivesignature.com/54488/34/ABC1E6B632E560555E8CCDDAC85ED897.png" />Mindyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10914061059726574864noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5161344181552514827.post-8787510636637623282013-09-18T07:54:00.002-07:002013-09-18T07:54:41.250-07:00this is telling<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
I must really love these kids...</div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhpmzD6tXj1s4ssDprV5W3igG8HJ2-qHcUDu5fOoipngInKqIbtcMGgi1BqJN8NsGss0pzEMKwX1uEhQA1406HprMOYhYwPyhJIbeiZI06xgJYuGCGqPNXBzmkrX-nVkqxwfh8OUugy_L2D/s1600/2013-09-17+08.32.32.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhpmzD6tXj1s4ssDprV5W3igG8HJ2-qHcUDu5fOoipngInKqIbtcMGgi1BqJN8NsGss0pzEMKwX1uEhQA1406HprMOYhYwPyhJIbeiZI06xgJYuGCGqPNXBzmkrX-nVkqxwfh8OUugy_L2D/s320/2013-09-17+08.32.32.jpg" width="251" /></a></div>
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...to set up yet <i>another </i>art project (that makes three in the last three school days), when I am such a craftaphobic mama. </div>
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But you've gotta go with what speaks to them, right?</div>
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<img src="http://signatures.mylivesignature.com/54488/34/ABC1E6B632E560555E8CCDDAC85ED897.png" /></div>
Mindyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10914061059726574864noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5161344181552514827.post-10057977236081325132013-09-17T15:03:00.001-07:002013-09-17T15:03:21.616-07:00Viola<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/AVvXsEhuScxuJPVKaOnKhlmGaZnNx1h_kMi0Ct2Uy7Wfqrf4xRK8EdX5f7mF3oy8T63eG5phWVZUph8F5yXUv1Wjy5oQS2F8FRsu-Kv9L1R4mPuv_QJBG34W-ElzepDVrO1VOxNRnY-NVQTbjG3P/s1600/2013-09-16+16.24.11.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhuScxuJPVKaOnKhlmGaZnNx1h_kMi0Ct2Uy7Wfqrf4xRK8EdX5f7mF3oy8T63eG5phWVZUph8F5yXUv1Wjy5oQS2F8FRsu-Kv9L1R4mPuv_QJBG34W-ElzepDVrO1VOxNRnY-NVQTbjG3P/s320/2013-09-16+16.24.11.jpg" width="240" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">My grandparents and I on my 1st birthday</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
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Today is my grandma's birthday. I woke up thinking about her. Our birthdays are very close, and sometimes we would celebrate them together. <br />
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My grandmother died quite a few years ago, a month before I turned 13. She has been with Jesus for awhile now, and the sadness of missing her has mellowed into sweet memories. I still remember her smile, her voice. Eating toast with strawberry jam. Roast beef with mashed potatoes, carrots, and creamed corn after church on Sunday. How she used to pinch my brother's cheek and grin and call him her "boyfriend." The way my dad's loud sneezes would always startle her and make her jump.<br />
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It wasn't until later in the day that I realized something: today marks 100 years since my grandma was born. One. Hundred. Years. I wonder what the weather was like, what the birth was like. What life was like for their family. I wonder if her parents chose her name, Viola Pearl, after much discussion,,, or if the decision was simple, as they sometimes are. <br />
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I wish I had known her longer, into my adult years. I wish she could have met my husband, my children.<br />
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But she will someday. Maybe she's been privy to the events of my life from her everlasting home in heaven...or maybe we'll simply have a lot to catch up on once I get there.<br />
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Regardless, here's a Happy 100th Birthday to you, Grandma. Enjoy your celebration; I'm sure the parties up there are absolutely breathtaking! <br />
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Until we meet again,<br />
<img src="http://signatures.mylivesignature.com/54488/34/ABC1E6B632E560555E8CCDDAC85ED897.png" />Mindyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10914061059726574864noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5161344181552514827.post-10867274344084672832013-09-16T11:55:00.002-07:002013-09-16T11:55:58.462-07:00my first rodeo<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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Yes, it was my very first. I don't know how I had lived this long without ever attending a rodeo before, but there it is. Last week we loaded up the family and headed for the <a href="http://www.pendletonroundup.com/" style="text-decoration: underline;">Pendleton Round-Up</a>, a well-known annual event held in eastern Oregon.<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhP9M5er_DLeFkUrsXHBxbruud6-LDa5r8ot53H6UlkNrJj0_sFF_xh9TKmjCk-GycE98rtWYEiSj6p8vUJsNUfi7Q5bErfvfHDmFJCnci_GBgZsaNXw-bxos-n_gHVYc5uhgRkR8MJNjpF/s1600/2013-09-12+13.38.16.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhP9M5er_DLeFkUrsXHBxbruud6-LDa5r8ot53H6UlkNrJj0_sFF_xh9TKmjCk-GycE98rtWYEiSj6p8vUJsNUfi7Q5bErfvfHDmFJCnci_GBgZsaNXw-bxos-n_gHVYc5uhgRkR8MJNjpF/s320/2013-09-12+13.38.16.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>
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We hauled my in-laws' travel trailer along for a place to stay, and they joined us the next day. My husband's grandparents also came along.<br />
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And how was it? It was exciting! There were cowboys, cowgirls, Indians, horses...<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjYBfRdjf0wsG3BjIsRDmzRJSEf8LNuvTBTujMBZUZpMZr6_ojGIL9qPsmE2pddH1zh34DTSHRsvgvu4CKx8f609cf-Z_hewkEiJjrElxMDxZzEeDLhLEoOl9GykTeG2E9XSURKO9VJmIan/s1600/2013-09-13+15.02.45.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjYBfRdjf0wsG3BjIsRDmzRJSEf8LNuvTBTujMBZUZpMZr6_ojGIL9qPsmE2pddH1zh34DTSHRsvgvu4CKx8f609cf-Z_hewkEiJjrElxMDxZzEeDLhLEoOl9GykTeG2E9XSURKO9VJmIan/s320/2013-09-13+15.02.45.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>
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...bulls, steers, and much more.<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjSv0ehs9c-hCtDME1GEpap6z_nQMzJ0XZD_TV6Qb7R5W1X_heew6rewh0QwISc22wmkHaTwCzCOZU_8cZRu_emcrSpFDKGxE99mNZG-OoCIsU7yDlTZYu8lZsdB8eIHwOPENHiXq7xA8ks/s1600/2013-09-13+15.25.58.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjSv0ehs9c-hCtDME1GEpap6z_nQMzJ0XZD_TV6Qb7R5W1X_heew6rewh0QwISc22wmkHaTwCzCOZU_8cZRu_emcrSpFDKGxE99mNZG-OoCIsU7yDlTZYu8lZsdB8eIHwOPENHiXq7xA8ks/s320/2013-09-13+15.25.58.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>
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I prefer him to any cowboy, thankyouverymuch.<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgSd7N8xr53yMtFEbZxMlRY1UsUMK3hAJP8vHjlzl_T0zZ8cyQci-0xaJLBkRNfpmqIWlBtVPaFOQrpMSut9S5FrKIOWVFLObT28ss0Eumrnq0XV6rSLfX4zgrQWkqSCbCCh224M-FieCcL/s1600/2013-09-13+13.12.31-1.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgSd7N8xr53yMtFEbZxMlRY1UsUMK3hAJP8vHjlzl_T0zZ8cyQci-0xaJLBkRNfpmqIWlBtVPaFOQrpMSut9S5FrKIOWVFLObT28ss0Eumrnq0XV6rSLfX4zgrQWkqSCbCCh224M-FieCcL/s320/2013-09-13+13.12.31-1.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>
<br />
Our gang (or most of it).<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgBR8lEhyrP0g6ynJrOpXoTv74XbpqT6drAfHL03h5vumdnC68vCYjixpvetSJBh7a4raS8lxm2oyrPO-OKKcC4odED9J8NS-qg2Uz0WMlVLOCS17pN8rZu8YGt7VJXsyXNwjU6PKOt3gnk/s1600/2013-09-13+12.36.36.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgBR8lEhyrP0g6ynJrOpXoTv74XbpqT6drAfHL03h5vumdnC68vCYjixpvetSJBh7a4raS8lxm2oyrPO-OKKcC4odED9J8NS-qg2Uz0WMlVLOCS17pN8rZu8YGt7VJXsyXNwjU6PKOt3gnk/s320/2013-09-13+12.36.36.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>
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It was a long afternoon for some of the younger kids, but our older boys absolutely loved it! I'm thankful for the chance to have had this adventure.<br />
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I'll leave you with this image of an Indian (they called them Indians at the rodeo, not Native Americans...don't blame me!) bearing the beautiful American flag. I found it a touching sight.<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi2gmQ-m1n7IqKabH1BzIu8LNx6cQFhb0UF6HV67x5I-Lx7lVATdACJf7PWDeH0ReqK_tUwJ_m6CksNRAOPBwSitPu0svYmXlrRJ2xSVHxJaTs4P9LtFf3DfbbEkLmGVealyzht5jk5C_-Z/s1600/2013-09-13+13.12.31.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="295" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi2gmQ-m1n7IqKabH1BzIu8LNx6cQFhb0UF6HV67x5I-Lx7lVATdACJf7PWDeH0ReqK_tUwJ_m6CksNRAOPBwSitPu0svYmXlrRJ2xSVHxJaTs4P9LtFf3DfbbEkLmGVealyzht5jk5C_-Z/s320/2013-09-13+13.12.31.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>
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God bless America! <br />
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<img src="http://signatures.mylivesignature.com/54488/34/ABC1E6B632E560555E8CCDDAC85ED897.png" />Mindyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10914061059726574864noreply@blogger.com1