tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-84129277755931605342024-03-12T17:16:21.285-07:00Love That BeeAmyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05721801881048080004noreply@blogger.comBlogger306125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8412927775593160534.post-91033660290261994842014-09-12T19:10:00.001-07:002014-09-12T19:10:55.008-07:00Life ChangedWe had a good summer, we didn't get to everything I wanted but we hit the most important. We went to Family Camp and had a great time, ate at a new pizza place, went swimming as often as possible (and I have the swimsuit lines to prove it), went to the fair, and rode the ferry simply for ice cream. My entire plan for the summer was to soak up every possible moment with the boys and enjoy it. No tutoring, home school, appointments, or constant to-dos (except for VBS). What I didn't realize was how much my life was going to change this fall. <br />
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In my mind I had a pretty good plan for fall. Boys would all be in school, Finn for 4 hours. I would have one drop off, and if I figured out the bus (i.e. convinced Jack to ride it) only 1 pick up. I had a gardening day, grocery shopping day, meet with friends day, and clean the house day. It was going to be my year to regroup and recharge. No kids for 4 hours a day AND the ability to be home. But as, with most of my plans, that was a good plan but not the plan I was supposed to have.<br />
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On the last week of summer, when I was on my very much look-forward too, solo vacation I got an email:<br />
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"Do you want to teach kindergarten??"<br />
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Um, what? Not really, I was pretty much going to have this amazing year ahead of me where I took a mental health break. I did not want to work full time, especially since Finn is only in school part-time.<br />
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But the email I sent back was,<br />
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"Can I think about it?"<br />
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I had only a few hours to decide. School would start in one week and they needed a teacher today. As a good friend said later, "it was probably good you didn't have time to really think about it as you would have over thought the decision". And it was true. By 5:00, I had said yes and I started work the next day at 8:30.<br />
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I won't lie, I went back to my hotel and cried. And then I cried some more. I texted my sister who recently started a new job and asked if she also cried. I called Brandon and cried. I cried in the shower, I cried laying on my bed. And then I woke up at 4:00 AM and couldn't go back to sleep so I watched Scandal. Because really, what else was there to do?<br />
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In the end, it is a good decision. I love teaching more then I can explain. I swore I wouldn't go back to the classroom, I would never teach kindergarten, and yet here I am. Working full time, in a kindergarten classroom and when I am at work, I am so happy. I'm happy at home too, but there is also guilt. Am I failing Finn? I was supposed to spend this year with him (at which point Brandon said, you've already had two years with just Finn, this might be good for both of you). I have dropped the ball on so many things with Jack and Micah. And yet, they are doing well. This is probably the best start to the year for either of them. For Jack seeing me at lunch everyday makes him happy. Knowing he can come find me during the day if he is sick is comforting. Micah, on the other hand, hides in the bushes if he sees me or pretends he doesn't know me. But that's okay because every now and again I get a glimpse of him with his friends or sitting in an assembly and my heart is so full of love for him. Plus, I missed the back-to-school meeting with Micah's teacher. They had it without me and just filled me in. Everyone was happy and there was no crying, so I am calling it a win. Finn, well, it's still rough and we are still adjusting.<br />
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When the first day of school came. I did not drive home and dance around an empty house. Instead I welcomed 16 kindergartners, 15 of them the first in their family to go to kindergarten, into my class.<br />
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This is both the happiest and the most overwhelmed I have ever been. And I am so thankful I spent this summer taking the time to be with my boys.Amyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05721801881048080004noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8412927775593160534.post-73203787135156696652014-07-07T21:47:00.001-07:002014-07-07T21:47:14.027-07:00Taking a MomentWhen the boys went back to school last year I grieved. Not just because school was starting and that meant schedules, homework, lunches packed, and on and on. It meant that my time to be with my boys was over and I never really got to enjoy them. Last summer was homeschool, vision therapy, swimming lessons, more swimming lessons, pressure to have the boys ready for school. Anytime we had at home was reading, journal writing, sight words, letter sounds, vision activities, and fighting. This summer I do not want September 1st to come and to feel that once again I lost moments with my boys.<div>
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But now it's mid-July and between tutoring (not by me), occupational therapy, MOPS planning meetings, VBS (what was I thinking), swimming (again), I look at my calendar and sigh. I feel the days slipping by and yet I still keep saying, "when summer begins …" and yet summer is in full swing. </div>
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Today was the first day with no plans, no meetings, no tutoring, no swim lessons, a completely free day. And then my MIL asked if we could come and help her pack. Actually, she asked if she could pay Jack to pack boxes and I said we'd all come because I'm not sure he is that helpful yet. Today was sunny and I told the boys after Grandma's, and the grocery store, we would be off for some summer fun. Except that the grocery story is our kryptonite. We can not make it though without some spectacular parenting choices, lots of touching, fighting and extra items added to the cart. By the time we were done the only plan I had for the rest of the day was home, unload groceries, and nap time for all. </div>
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Somewhere in between putting the groceries away, and getting the boys out of room time, I made a decision. Swimming (in which I would have to get in the pool) or splash park (with everyone else in the city) would not be great choices for us at this time of day, but we could still take a moment. </div>
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While the boys put on swim suits, I hosed off the nasty spider infested plastic pool, hunted down the broken-but-works-well-enough sprinkler and set up our own water park. I threw out the beach towels, grabbed some snacks and called the boys outside. </div>
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It wasn't what we had planned, it wasn't the perfect day I had in my mind, but as my youngest came running outside he said, "this is the best day ever!". As I sat there in my lawn chair, watching the boys run from pool to sprinkler and back, I chose to let this moment sink in. This moment where I had no place to be, the boys were laughing and having fun, and I could just enjoy the time with my boys.</div>
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I grabbed the moment and I held on with both hands. And I am so thankful.</div>
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Amyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05721801881048080004noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8412927775593160534.post-31531608609367244342014-06-15T20:59:00.001-07:002014-06-15T20:59:29.247-07:00End of YearSchool ended last Friday. On one hand it felt like an eternity, but on the other, I swear I just dropped them off on the first day. <br />
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This year there was no crying when I asked for pictures. Jack even suggested taking pictures with the teacher gifts - a complete surprise. <br />
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Jack's teacher this year was the perfect fit for him. She loved his quirky sense of humor, encouraged his love of dance, and listened to every story he had to share every single day. There were tears when the day ended and we had to say goodbye - and they were not from me.<br />
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Micah's teacher I am pretty sure is doing her own dance that she will not have to do any parent teacher conferences with me next year. I told her she has 2 years before Finn comes to 1st grade to rebuild her Kleenex supply. Micah had a great year, he is our author, constantly writing unique and funny stories. <br />
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These boys. How did they get so big? Love these two.</div>
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<br />Amyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05721801881048080004noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8412927775593160534.post-48145834839642080312014-05-12T13:18:00.001-07:002014-05-18T20:20:21.745-07:00How Do You Do It?I get this question quite a bit. When out with my boys, when talking to other moms, whenever I am asked how many kids do I have: 3 boys, all two years apart.<div><br></div><div>Here's the answer:<br><br><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgYPW_WsFU-Ko5LDTtaecrHwO6zNPTcIiot5wW7btuoyTcpjZTQZyI7VJ8vepFxU6dK3tRUgSA9gg5bGx_z3_CY0r8aLdO184Qdc8lN98HJOJgejBX7vdBfx6iuFJ_ojg3zSsd5UMGWRtev/s640/blogger-image-1353325281.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgYPW_WsFU-Ko5LDTtaecrHwO6zNPTcIiot5wW7btuoyTcpjZTQZyI7VJ8vepFxU6dK3tRUgSA9gg5bGx_z3_CY0r8aLdO184Qdc8lN98HJOJgejBX7vdBfx6iuFJ_ojg3zSsd5UMGWRtev/s640/blogger-image-1353325281.jpg"></a></div><br><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg_8bkQU_T7isqa9jDdI68BqqZkELqBX8TIage3g9WYHtEMrWGs6NEgeO_o_G6O6ona9QXIbApBIZhyphenhyphenX3X6RDWXTCH3jXD5fm6MpjN8qcNejyo5P4BodPxdRg7VczO54w3AVYdtKoa4gxtN/s640/blogger-image--483796788.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg_8bkQU_T7isqa9jDdI68BqqZkELqBX8TIage3g9WYHtEMrWGs6NEgeO_o_G6O6ona9QXIbApBIZhyphenhyphenX3X6RDWXTCH3jXD5fm6MpjN8qcNejyo5P4BodPxdRg7VczO54w3AVYdtKoa4gxtN/s640/blogger-image--483796788.jpg"></a></div><br><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgfoVA9MaftANMNynA9CITQN1jJIUdJsIiSXgHDReVCUVJ86xtBIWQu6hxlrrtmCRK2HJnfRQuh_Yl6hcjcbh5urWbS0dgfPcTu5QPLoKIa-L1Y2qXlEt2OlbNuSeb3GgxjAoXX3lR88pbF/s640/blogger-image--1402819547.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgfoVA9MaftANMNynA9CITQN1jJIUdJsIiSXgHDReVCUVJ86xtBIWQu6hxlrrtmCRK2HJnfRQuh_Yl6hcjcbh5urWbS0dgfPcTu5QPLoKIa-L1Y2qXlEt2OlbNuSeb3GgxjAoXX3lR88pbF/s640/blogger-image--1402819547.jpg"></a></div></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><br></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;">And I'm only slightly kidding.</div>Amyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05721801881048080004noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8412927775593160534.post-17023538817703877992014-05-07T12:49:00.001-07:002014-05-07T12:49:09.873-07:00For MicahTo be honest, Micah kind of gets the shaft for his birthday. I wish I could say I was kidding, but I'm not. His is always (obviously) the last of our spring birthdays, it usual falls right around Easter, and this year had to compete with baseball season. By the time we start the countdown to his birthday he only has a few days left. <div>
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To make matters worse this year was our year of no parties, no kid parties that is. We implemented an every-other-year approach to kid parties. If I was smart I would have the boys on opposite years, so we only have one kid party a year, but whatever.</div>
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Instead of a party the boys get to pick one friend and then choose a special event. Micah has known for an entire year what he would do: Family Fun Center. So, on a recent no school day, I took my three boys plus Micah's very best friend to this mythical place. Little did I know what I was getting in to.</div>
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Heading in!</div>
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Bumper boats with water squirters. Otherwise known as my worst nightmare.</div>
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<span style="text-align: center;">Tip: Leave the bumper boats for the end. Also, don't go in them if you are the only adult and you don't want to get soaked. </span></div>
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Side-note: I thought I would be asked to leave after all the screaming that happened during this ride. I was offered a towel.</div>
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Aside from the bumper boat debacle, nearly losing them in the video arcade, and refusing to buy another 100 tokens, I think the day was a success.</div>
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Full disclosure: I did immediately go to dinner and order a mixed drink (or two) to recover from this family fun event. </div>
Amyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05721801881048080004noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8412927775593160534.post-72485220659134362232014-03-27T11:15:00.002-07:002014-03-27T11:15:56.598-07:00And Now You Are 9<div style="text-align: center;">
How is that possible? </div>
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One more year until double digits? </div>
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How am I old enough to be a mom to a 9 year old boy. </div>
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How did I get so lucky to be blessed with such an amazing, funny, sweet, sensitive, creative, confident little boy?</div>
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I don't know how it has happened, how you are already nine years, but I know I wouldn't trade a minute of it. </div>
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I hope you never lose the part of you that makes you unique among your peers. You are truly one of a kind and I am so proud to be your mom. </div>
Amyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05721801881048080004noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8412927775593160534.post-1465685633437188742014-03-12T12:38:00.000-07:002014-03-12T12:38:04.750-07:00For The Last TimeFor the last time I walked into this room and sat at this table.<br />
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Four years ago I walked in with my 7 month old baby, and Brandon at my side. This was an exciting moment, our first parent-teacher conference. Even though it was only preschool it was such a big step. I was no longer the teacher welcoming in nervous, or excited parents, but I was that parent. The one the teacher smiles at, asks to sit, and then begins to tell them about their child.<br />
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This conference did not go as I expected and my smile, turned to a scowl, and then to tears. Unfortunately, this was not the only time I cried at a conference. Last week I went to a conference for my middle son and when I walked into the room I saw that all was ready for me. At the empty table where we would sit was a full box of kleenex. Oh, yes, my tears are expected and prepared for.<br />
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Four years later I am once again at that little preschool table. This time it is for that little 7 month old baby that came with me the first time. This time I came alone. Not even Brandon came with for moral support. This time I was there to hear about my youngest, my baby, my last one, the one about to turn 5.<br />
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It was a new teacher but the conversation was the same. For the third time it was recommended that my beautiful, amazing, smart, funny, active boy wait one more year for Kindergarten. This time I did not react with anger or sadness. I smiled and thanked the teacher for her honesty and for truly knowing my son. We were on the fence with what to do for school next year and her knowledge of my son helped to solidify the decision.<br />
<br />
Three times I have sat at this table (okay actually four, we did it twice for Jack). Three times I have been told my son was not ready for kindergarten and should wait. Twice it was for social and emotional development, once it was for academic. <br />
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Each time the decision on what to do was all consuming, and sometimes overwhelming. Thinking of pros and cons, what this decision would do for my son's future, what was truly best for that particular son, consumed me.<br />
<br />
One son we kept at this same preschool for two years.<br />
<br />
One son we decided at the last minute to send to kindergarten.<br />
<br />
One son we will wait but move to a pre-K closer to home.<br />
<br />
For the last time I sat at this table. This time I did not cry, I laughed, I listened, I talked. But I did not cry.<br />
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I cried later realizing the end of an era for my boys and me. Amyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05721801881048080004noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8412927775593160534.post-31719774733253485282014-03-05T10:27:00.002-08:002014-03-05T10:27:25.968-08:00That Was AwkwardToday I was late bringing Finn and his friend to preschool. That, unfortunately, seems to be pretty standard around here right now. Me, running late, I mean. But today it created a slightly awkward social encounter.<br />
<br />
After getting both boys out of the car and heading to the door I turned around and found a parent standing behind me. Yesterday his twin boys made Finn a flag of Japan. Which was nice, so I felt I should say thank you. After I did he still stood there, so I assumed I should make conversation. But I really didn't have anything to say and there is a bit of a language issue so I said the first thing that came to mind.<br />
<br />
"We would love to have your twin sons over for a play-date." (Even though Finn has said it was ok, as long as only one came).<br />
<br />
He was kind of surprised but said, sure. I thought I would show my ESL skills and asked if it would be easier if I emailed him some suggested day and times. <br />
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That seemed to be a good idea. Then this dad asked if I wanted to write down his email. Well, I didn't have a pen, paper, or my phone. I had only grabbed my keys when I got out of the car. Hmm. Well, he could write down his email for me.<br />
<br />
That seemed like a good idea. But, when he went to get a piece of paper, he had to go around me to open the door. And that is when I realized he wasn't actually waiting to talk to me. Rather I was standing in front of his car door. Effectively blocking him from driving away.<br />
<br />
So, I didn't have to actually set up a playdate with two 4 year old twin boys who only speak Japanese. <br />
<br />
As Jack would say, "Well, that was awkward."Amyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05721801881048080004noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8412927775593160534.post-65451050476726377122014-02-06T21:27:00.000-08:002014-02-06T21:27:48.071-08:00Second GuessingSo this weekend I spent many hours folding clothes, sorting clothes, and relentlessly purging. I ended up with several bags of clothes and I quickly took them to the Goodwill on Monday so I would not be tempted to go have second thoughts. <br />
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This time I took a hard look at all of the clothes they have worn and got rid of them even if they had sentimental value. <br />
<br />
The shirt Jack made in Kindergarten for his class field trip - gone. Why would Micah want to wear it?<br />
<br />
The apple shirt Micah made in Kindergarten - gone. Seriously, Finn will be making his own in a year.<br />
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The orange KEXP shirt Jack wore all summer - yep, gone.<br />
<br />
All of Micah's sports league t-shirts - out of here. How many do you really need?<br />
<br />
But then today I saw this:<br />
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<a href="http://www.lilblueboo.com/2012/04/a-t-shirt-quilt-a-tutorial.html">A T-Shirt Quilt</a><br />
<br />
Um, yeah.<br />
<br />
Never mind that I only have 5 or so shirts. That I can't sew. I have zero understanding of quilting. And assuming that of course my boys would LOVE to have a giant quilt made out of old t-shirts.<br />
<br />
None of that matters. All I am thinking about is what time does Goodwill open tomorrow? I wonder if I can go and buy back all of their t-shirts?<br />
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That's not crazy, right?Amyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05721801881048080004noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8412927775593160534.post-6346476836595211762013-12-10T15:22:00.000-08:002013-12-10T15:22:16.956-08:00Micah In The MiddleSelfishly, I probably always wanted three kids just simply so I could have a middle child. And my Micah is so much like me, in looks, personality, and birth order. Being in the middle has its pros and cons. You get to be both a big and little sibling. But you never get your own room (unless you live in a mansion). You are never first or last. The middle seat in the car tends to be yours.<br />
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When I was in the fifth grade I remember sitting at the kitchen table and my mom handed me a present. "What is this for?" I asked.<br />
"It's a 'just because' gift." my mom said.<br />
Just because I was me. Just because I was in the middle. Just because that was a really tough year. I'm not sure but it will forever be one of my favorite memories. I opened the box to find purple leggings, complete with stirrups, and a white sweatshirt with a multi-colored confetti design on it. I LOVED that outfit and wore it as much as possible. And every time I did, I remembered that it was just for me. And just because.<br />
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Recently, life has been hard for little Micah. School isn't as easy for him as it is for Jack. His very best friend from Kindergarten is turning out to not be such a good friend this year. He seems just a little lost in the chaos that is our family. <br />
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A few Saturdays ago between soccer ending and Christmas stuff starting, we found ourselves at home. It was the perfect day for a date with Micah. Instead of pb&j for lunch, we headed to his favorite restaurant, Subway, for a lunch date. One tuna sandwich with cheese, olives, and pickles, later, we were set. I tried a bite of his and gagged. He tried a bite of mine and declared it disgusting. We both agreed we loved our own sandwiches. We talked about school, soccer, and Hunger Games.<br />
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It wasn't a gift but it was a lunch date, just because.Amyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05721801881048080004noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8412927775593160534.post-76584259717476702642013-11-27T10:27:00.001-08:002013-11-27T10:27:31.536-08:00Our Fake Thanksgiving With StrangersThat is what the boys called it. I kind of thought it was more like mission work in our own backyard. But whatever you called it we did host a thanksgiving meal, on Saturday, to three strangers. And some really good friends. <br />
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For several weeks in our church bulletin there was an announcement to host a group of international students in your home for a Thanksgiving feast. The idea was that these students will spend a year or more in our community and never actually step foot into a real home.<br />
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Ever since moving, I have felt so blessed by our house. It is not a giant house but the open space does allow for entertaining (even if the kitchen is quite small). I have tried to be open to how we could share our home with others, but so far no one has taken me up on the offer to move into our extra bedroom. I thought hosting a meal for international students was a good first step.<br />
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Brandon was not as excited when I mentioned it to him. In fact he thought it was a bad idea. Probably because the students were here to learn English and it would be challenging to converse with them. I sweetened the pot by adding that we would invite some friends of ours from church (fingers crossed that they would actually come). Plus, I said, remember when my mom used to host Japanese exchange students and how much my niece and nephew loved them? This will be so fun, and a good experience for our kids.<br />
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It wasn't until I was getting instructions on how to buy a Halal turkey and to definitely not cook any pork that I realized I may have made a mistake in who I thought would be coming over. It wasn't Japanese international students but rather students from Saudi Arabia. <br />
<br />
And this is when I realized just how ignorant and biased I was towards people from the middle east. I have been reading the book, <u>Interrupted</u> by Jen Hatmaker, and in it she talks about going out into your community and serving the least, the forgotten, the forsaken. For her it was walking alongside the homeless community and creating true relationships with them. Realizing that they have stories that are not so different from you and I. That by loving them she is truly living out God's message to serve the forsaken. When reading this in my small group a friend shared how she felt towards Muslims, and I remember thinking, 'huh, I don't know any but I am sure I am fine with them'.<br />
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Turns out that was not the case. As soon as I knew that we would be hosting students from the Middle East, I actually started to hope no one would show up. We live far from our church so transportation was an issue. Maybe we would just end up with a thanksgiving party with our friends. Wouldn't that be fun? It would, but that wasn't the point.<br />
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We got our list of names on Thursday, we said 4 students who could provide their own transportation. 5 signed up and 3 needed rides. And they were all men. This is when I truly started to panic, and all of my ignorance came to light. I don't even know how to refer to these men are they Arabic, Egyptian (so not right, but Jack did a great Egyptian dance for them), Muslim, Middle Eastern? How do I explain them and their customs to my boys?<br />
<br />
The day finally arrived. I had emailed and called all the names on our list and had no response. I finally got an email from one of them asking for a ride. An hour before dinner was to be ready Brandon left to drive 35 minutes to pick up our guests. In a moment of panic I called a friend and left a rather crazy message that basically said, "what if they get in Brandon's car with a backpack. Should we ask to see inside?" You know in case they have a bomb. DO YOU SEE HOW INSANE I WAS? It was humbling to realize just how afraid I was. <br />
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In the end our fake thanksgiving was better then most of us expected. One of our friends said he didn't really think this would be fun but he was going to support our mission outreach, but it turned out to be really good. Our three guests were nice young men, who are far from home and their families. It made me sad to think of sending my (in the future) 19 year old son so far away to live and attend school. We talked, we laughed, we probably confused them with our quotes from Friends, and scared them with our food. Upon leaving all three guests said, "thank you for your hospitality". I hope they truly felt welcomed at our house.<br />
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It wasn't the experience I was expecting, and it wasn't quite a fake thanksgiving with strangers, but it was how we had, Sultan, Mohammed, and Turkey over for dinner.<br />
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Welcome in Arabic</td></tr>
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<br />Amyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05721801881048080004noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8412927775593160534.post-39816381475335854612013-11-13T21:10:00.000-08:002013-11-13T21:10:31.118-08:00And That's a WrapMicah just finished his 3rd year of soccer. I'm not sure how we became a soccer family, or even why we started in the first place. Finally after many practices and rainy games, we have an official soccer player on our hands. This was the first year where the kids actually played real soccer, complete with goalies. Micah loved being goalie. I kind of think it was because he didn't have to run as much when he was goalie. <br />
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This past Saturday was our last game of the season. With the way our fall has been, I have missed several of his games. Getting ready on Saturday he asked if I was going to be at his game. I told him of course I would be there. And I was so glad I was. Micah scored the winning goal of the game. It was only his second goal of the season, and the only one I was there for. Micah kicked it and then we all held our breath as it went towards to goal, slowed down, and then (to be honest) ricocheted in. But all that mattered was the ball went into the goal. Micah paused and then turned to look at me, with a "did you see that?" look on his face. Indeed, I did, my sweet, competitive, soccer-loving boy.<br />
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">The soccer star with his coach</td></tr>
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Amyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05721801881048080004noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8412927775593160534.post-16292850963284260402013-10-29T10:35:00.000-07:002013-10-29T10:35:25.121-07:00The Windy CityAny Calamity Jane Fans out there? All weekend long I've been singing:<br />
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I just blew in from the windy city<br />
The windy city is mighty pretty<br />
But they ain't got what we got, no sirree<br />
<br />
That's pretty much all I know. The point is I went to Chicago this weekend. On a plane. All by myself. And, while this may not be a big thing to many of you, it was a HUGE trip for me. I got on an airplane by myself, figured out the public transit system in Chicago, made my way downtown, where I finally met up with my friend. Had a great 48 hours in Chicago, before getting back on the train and doing the trip in reverse. My usual way to travel, especially by plane, is to pretend it's not happening and rely on Brandon to tell me what to do. I did rely on him to tell me how to navigate the airport, train, and when to get off at the right station. But other then that I relied on my friend. Good thing she likes to plan trips.<br />
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Here is recap of our time in Chicago</div>
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Momo, my traveling partner, is locked in and ready to fly.</div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgRhaS4VOuNydsIH_D7tEYQLHGesGcMebV-vwgaPoAwGu7X_jA2Rskmim52gPgrMjWZHkDfjJqFYLzuydQJpDQ519hj0zX1yPELWBiwPnxKgBXo8D1V2DJZw1x4L_nkg5n8gwCXL3NsvVxi/s1600/IMG_4957.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgRhaS4VOuNydsIH_D7tEYQLHGesGcMebV-vwgaPoAwGu7X_jA2Rskmim52gPgrMjWZHkDfjJqFYLzuydQJpDQ519hj0zX1yPELWBiwPnxKgBXo8D1V2DJZw1x4L_nkg5n8gwCXL3NsvVxi/s400/IMG_4957.jpg" width="300" /></a></div>
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Momo - that apple is not for you!</div>
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Momo is SO happy to have landed.</div>
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Momo is super excited to be on the train, a little worried about some of the other people on the train. Maybe he should just stay in the purse for safety.</div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi_tUfneEwvb3gtjSypFPfRLvHIHXpYwdk9qmO3M7JgICjQqm7LuK-uSobJhvQajRqUgZEm03R-AZF_jcd7_05fFYPOjkpV7jYYqOZt2lxFzNqv6_FJO4WhJIYPc4DjdDRzFZ7ED5EKBkxF/s1600/IMG_4961.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi_tUfneEwvb3gtjSypFPfRLvHIHXpYwdk9qmO3M7JgICjQqm7LuK-uSobJhvQajRqUgZEm03R-AZF_jcd7_05fFYPOjkpV7jYYqOZt2lxFzNqv6_FJO4WhJIYPc4DjdDRzFZ7ED5EKBkxF/s400/IMG_4961.jpg" width="300" /></a></div>
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All tucked in to for the night. Traveling is extremely stressful work.</div>
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Momo was so excited to see his first glimpse of downtown Chicago. Hmm.</div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh1re1hR4bDdIbrU288pst75AUMHmSPubVaCO73S5ORgGvXhTzTsJBXfF9jGz6HVAAgRA0WjfTorhT9TWQSjHXxnoBqVLET0bd3XgGx6SzJMuhKgQIi1VfAFNHMEHQa-7QqNrXBzgn4fuxD/s1600/IMG_4984.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh1re1hR4bDdIbrU288pst75AUMHmSPubVaCO73S5ORgGvXhTzTsJBXfF9jGz6HVAAgRA0WjfTorhT9TWQSjHXxnoBqVLET0bd3XgGx6SzJMuhKgQIi1VfAFNHMEHQa-7QqNrXBzgn4fuxD/s400/IMG_4984.jpg" width="300" /></a></div>
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Momo had to take a quick shopping trip to Target to pick up all the things I forgot in my rush to leave for the airport.</div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj1wVCsy1VfvmHQ3epwp5q5fj6IhfcTUZ7X3itqIqoRcR0PmyX0Qr4Oi35a0EQFZ_bx2oyl67Tbzl2NueDN9LwtYIVkiZVaM8kzDmpU89RyEapdOSACwpYOzq_WqLeejbGvre2y5hoJfetx/s1600/IMG_4989.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj1wVCsy1VfvmHQ3epwp5q5fj6IhfcTUZ7X3itqIqoRcR0PmyX0Qr4Oi35a0EQFZ_bx2oyl67Tbzl2NueDN9LwtYIVkiZVaM8kzDmpU89RyEapdOSACwpYOzq_WqLeejbGvre2y5hoJfetx/s400/IMG_4989.jpg" width="300" /></a></div>
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Momo visits the bean! </div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhg1fu_x5mEF1NuCpJ5eWOKImO3loN2mkiG0zGw36bqGaUwtEcGwquL0BXtKjL8zdpH9QYdQa9dVcOa29DkHkXX5IxWfU0UXTFlupLrRreD9yW_THb2ZKgd85TgfycC1mRUF5ukk6Yb_C1T/s1600/IMG_4991.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="300" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhg1fu_x5mEF1NuCpJ5eWOKImO3loN2mkiG0zGw36bqGaUwtEcGwquL0BXtKjL8zdpH9QYdQa9dVcOa29DkHkXX5IxWfU0UXTFlupLrRreD9yW_THb2ZKgd85TgfycC1mRUF5ukk6Yb_C1T/s400/IMG_4991.JPG" width="400" /></a></div>
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We did not come here to ride the bulls, Momo!</div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg7FDJ9oSE_pFj52WxUeSnHItTD6_6Yw5WgWBEy4K-m7bSQY35erP7ZnOt0VhZjtBLeATtxYPBz9PxdBCERzBuEctEiKgngDr65fDmERtrADdv1Qz6Hnh_lDCJKLWNeWDKrL6DNeUK3gt9E/s1600/IMG_5001.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg7FDJ9oSE_pFj52WxUeSnHItTD6_6Yw5WgWBEy4K-m7bSQY35erP7ZnOt0VhZjtBLeATtxYPBz9PxdBCERzBuEctEiKgngDr65fDmERtrADdv1Qz6Hnh_lDCJKLWNeWDKrL6DNeUK3gt9E/s400/IMG_5001.jpg" width="300" /></a></div>
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Momo, it's too cold to swim!</div>
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Coffee makes everything so much better.</div>
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Momo is all tucked in for the night. </div>
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Wait a minute! Momo, what are you doing in my purse!</div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhSWgvgodCZtmswjeyc7vLGhyphenhyphenBu8QjhQOxtPyXcJr_3xEpqBrWM9T-51HmQTTSE2ctDk6zat3EOToNyIQwVQtWr7jQTch7ZDQ1pCvSfTgz9K9MJRUKnYRPA5qTXxC42__uDWwXDcJoMBBDQ/s1600/IMG_5011.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhSWgvgodCZtmswjeyc7vLGhyphenhyphenBu8QjhQOxtPyXcJr_3xEpqBrWM9T-51HmQTTSE2ctDk6zat3EOToNyIQwVQtWr7jQTch7ZDQ1pCvSfTgz9K9MJRUKnYRPA5qTXxC42__uDWwXDcJoMBBDQ/s320/IMG_5011.jpg" width="240" /></a></div>
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Momo didn't want to miss out on seeing the view from the John Hancock building. Silly, Momo.</div>
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Momo gets to ride in a taxi! Best part of the trip!</div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj3hg8IsKHx19mfcYGiOBH0Di-xqtB0q5oD7l4fZd9At0G_N-8EkV3csc07-bWZqchP1YC4PNbvCjvQgQbyMUTWqQlPj0eN6zJ5iGnPK6mQKlXvJriKuFZTs-I0hJT1Id1rMpK3Gn0L_mzb/s1600/IMG_5024.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="300" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj3hg8IsKHx19mfcYGiOBH0Di-xqtB0q5oD7l4fZd9At0G_N-8EkV3csc07-bWZqchP1YC4PNbvCjvQgQbyMUTWqQlPj0eN6zJ5iGnPK6mQKlXvJriKuFZTs-I0hJT1Id1rMpK3Gn0L_mzb/s400/IMG_5024.JPG" width="400" /></a></div>
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Coffee love.</div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgKn_niSmv-rMfNCfyWr2Y1q9dTq9Qlx-g4QSPhC3CgzvFwNADL6Mc9xCMGTnijfR8EBXZMbMXJeUXS2W2JkktAlxNmmPMLztmA6WcVO_tWYDCMxVpAI1hua0KX7Nx64qrZeZ6HaMmLaeos/s1600/IMG_5029.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="300" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgKn_niSmv-rMfNCfyWr2Y1q9dTq9Qlx-g4QSPhC3CgzvFwNADL6Mc9xCMGTnijfR8EBXZMbMXJeUXS2W2JkktAlxNmmPMLztmA6WcVO_tWYDCMxVpAI1hua0KX7Nx64qrZeZ6HaMmLaeos/s400/IMG_5029.JPG" width="400" /></a></div>
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Momo put your life jacket on. We are about to go for a ride!</div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjiS0F2CWAe_82OZhvK5gk3oGkLUJyDef5-DL4biJZ2oLblEM9pXog8aI2JTXU8rUoDbjo06lSOIYYaLxl2MGQtyru87MDOswhXwFj_zqdVhC_kaKy7RT1nXltX4jKEqT46shq7g0xRj3A7/s1600/IMG_5063.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="300" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjiS0F2CWAe_82OZhvK5gk3oGkLUJyDef5-DL4biJZ2oLblEM9pXog8aI2JTXU8rUoDbjo06lSOIYYaLxl2MGQtyru87MDOswhXwFj_zqdVhC_kaKy7RT1nXltX4jKEqT46shq7g0xRj3A7/s400/IMG_5063.JPG" width="400" /></a></div>
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Ah, Momo, finally you found the famous Italian Beef. Yum!</div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEihhr3JLTRrE9k3zRfCIgSidMfNeHdNSmW_hrhzU3nA3CuvfFlOtYDozHa_PjZtAdYpHkEx1qeRRhNbyDwSzZJkhMKaosxrsqp5Qwtc6NN5ol9EGx89JIgICAbXbiLaRaBvwFtTVzvEHPsG/s1600/IMG_5068.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEihhr3JLTRrE9k3zRfCIgSidMfNeHdNSmW_hrhzU3nA3CuvfFlOtYDozHa_PjZtAdYpHkEx1qeRRhNbyDwSzZJkhMKaosxrsqp5Qwtc6NN5ol9EGx89JIgICAbXbiLaRaBvwFtTVzvEHPsG/s400/IMG_5068.jpg" width="300" /></a></div>
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Momo can't wait to take off. </div>
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Momo has landed. Such relief!</div>
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Home at last Momo!</div>
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Such sweet relief. It was great to see my friend, visit a very cool city, but I did learn an important lesson on this trip. Do not fly without drugs. The poor man next to me on the ride home may have thought I was headed to a funeral. Slight panic attack, followed by some not so slight tears, followed by lots of wine. Even Momo was embarrassed. </div>
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Amyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05721801881048080004noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8412927775593160534.post-83666565377643293292013-10-18T19:45:00.000-07:002013-10-18T19:45:14.595-07:00HiatusA pet peeve of mine is checking people's blogs, only to find out they have written a new post all day! If it's been a couple of days, I write that person off, they are dead to me. Ironic isn't it, since this blog has barely been updated in the past few months. <br />
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I have many things to blame it on: raising three boys, soccer, Brandon, Brandon's hair, online class, Friday Night Lights. But it basically comes down to this: I'm just too tired. At night, when I can write, all I want to do is sit on the couch and watch TV (hence my obsession with FNL). The effort to open my computer and actual write something that makes sense is too much. Plus, I may have had a glass of wine which makes me feel so warm and fuzzy inside, but kind of kills the creative brain cells.<br />
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So for a little bit, I am just going to state, there will be no more blog posts. Hopefully not for long, I do have an insane trip to Chicago next weekend that I feel warrants a blog post.Amyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05721801881048080004noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8412927775593160534.post-72458573786666309872013-09-25T12:43:00.004-07:002013-09-25T12:43:44.364-07:00Turning TablesI have written many times about our annual Seaside trip, I wrote about family camp, I even wrote about our trip to Spokane. What do all of these have in common? They were trips I took the boys on and left Brandon home alone. If you know me, then you also may have heard my slightly snide comments regarding how Brandon felt about these trips. <i>This is the part of the blog where you can roll your eyes and decide I am a terrible person, it's okay.</i> You see, every time I left, Brandon would be sad. From the first trip when Jack was 8 weeks old, to family camp this summer, when Jack was now 8 years old, he hates when we leave. I used to say to him, and probably my friends, MOST guys are happy when their wives leave and take all the kids with them. I didn't understand why he had such a hard time with it.<div>
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Brandon has slowly begun to come along with us on our trips. Seaside, is no longer a sister's weekend, more like a Sister-Wives weekend. I did ask Brandon to come when Finn was born because I did not feel that I could keep all 3 boys safe at the ocean for the weekend. Considering I lost Jack one year, that was probably a very wise parenting decision. Family Camp is now truly "family camp" as Brandon joins us for the weekend (that is another blog post). There are no trips that I now take with just the boys, and part of me is sad for that. Slight tangent: being a mom of 3 boys, I feel a strong need to do things with just the boys and myself. Camping in the woods with just mom? I think that is a pretty cool adventure and a memory the boys will always have with them. </div>
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So, when Brandon told me he wanted to take the boys camping, my first reaction was: no way. Selfishly, I didn't want hm to have his own special trip when I didn't get to have one. Also, I have a terrible fear of being home alone. Immature, probably, but still as soon it is dark, I am locked in the bathroom crying. I blame it on the movie, Are You In the House Alone? Don't watch a scary movie with older boy cousins around. They will scare the bejezus out of you and forever cause you to be in therapy.</div>
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I handled the weekend away as I handle most things that scare me. I pretend it's not happening. Even up to the minute they were leaving, I was cleaning the bathrooms and vacuuming. Packing, nope. Food shopping, not my job. I had no idea what clothes they were taking, what they were going to eat, or how Brandon planned to handle the weekend. Even avoiding the issue, 4:00 still came, and the boys all climbed into the car. </div>
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And that is when I started to cry. I tried to not cry in front of the boys, but it took Brandon a heck of time to finally get in the car to leave. By that time Jack said, "Mom, you have tears in your eyes." and then "Mom, I do too". I give them the best smile I could, made a funny joke about having to take care of the dogs, and went inside. And cried some more. </div>
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Because now I know why Brandon hates it. I did enjoy having time to myself at home, but I missed the boys so much. I hated going to bed alone at night and having no one there to keep me warm. (Not to be mistaken with how much I love my weekend away, that is something I still love). But being home, without my family, was sad.</div>
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When I stopped crying, I went upstairs to get the coffee Brandon had made for me, and saw this:</div>
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And then I smiled.</div>
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<i>Full Disclosure: I did not stay home alone, because I am that much of a wuss, my 16 year old niece stayed with me to keep me safe.</i></div>
Amyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05721801881048080004noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8412927775593160534.post-49963312470959616382013-09-15T21:06:00.002-07:002013-09-15T21:06:46.393-07:00Another FirstThis week marked Finn's last first day of preschool. Next year he may or may not go to kindergarten, that has yet to be decided, but this will be our last year at this school. Jack started here when he was 2 years old, for the past 6 years I have driven down the same road, walked up the same stairs to drop off one and sometimes even two boys. This was my first step away from all kids all the time. These teachers were the first to know that a little Finn was on his way. They were the ones to let me know that my Jack was more special then I even knew. This is where I made some of my best mom friends. Where I finally accepted that I was a stay-at-home mom and joined an organized mom's group. This place has been my life for the last 6 years.<br />
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This summer we spent quite a bit of time looking at preschools closer to home, making pros and cons lists, trying to convince Finn he would love to go to a new school. In the end, we chose to stay where we were. Long drive, short hours and all. This is where we felt we needed to be. And when Finn came down the stairs after his first day of school and whispered into my ear, "I loved it". I knew we made the right choice. This little boy gets one more year, to be in the big Pre-K, just like his brothers, to be with his very best friend, and to be mine for just a little while longer.<br />
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<br />Amyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05721801881048080004noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8412927775593160534.post-76804288406279566012013-09-06T11:19:00.003-07:002013-09-06T11:19:42.516-07:00First Day<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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The first day of school has come and gone. In some ways I am still in denial that summer is over, although our current weather is definitely fall/winter like. This is the first year we are not starting a new school. We are finally in the 'returning' family group, and I couldn't be happier. It was so nice to go in and see familiar faces, say hi, and even give hugs. Okay, that last part wasn't my favorite but I persevered and gave several rather awkward hugs. <br />
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The day to find out our teachers arrived and I think I was more nervous then the boys. I knew in my mind who would be perfect teachers for the boys and I hoped the higher ups at the school had realized that also. Micah got Jack's teacher from last year, who I love, and knows all about my terrible crying at parent-teacher conferences behavior, so that is a plus. Jack got the teacher I was 100% convinced we would not get. Seriously, when Brandon saw Jack's name outside the room he looked at me and said, "this is it". Wait, what?! It took me a second and I was still a little in shock as we walked into Jack's room, but by the 3rd day of school, I am convinced this was the best choice for Jack. He was up before 7AM on Thursday ready for school because he had such a good first day. Now, that didn't happen today, but that's okay. He was still dressed and in the car on time. <br />
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The actual first day of school was a blur. I couldn't believe how fast the time went. I had a long list of things to do. Make a special dinner of the boys choosing, CHECK. Burn dinner while wasting time on FaceBook, check. Make healthy chocolate chip cookies, CHECK. Burn the granola I had to make to add to the cookies, check. Taste cookies and immediately spit them out, CHECK. Rush to get boys so I would be in the correct carpool lane of them to find me, CHECK. Pick up happy boys who loved their first days, CHECK, CHECK, CHECK.<br />
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The boys had great first days, they loved seeing friends, and getting to know their new teachers. Finn and I are settling into life just the 2 of us again. Which means watching TV and reading blogs, and buying treats at Starbucks. <br />
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All in all the transition to back to school went well. Up next, Finn returns to preschool!Amyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05721801881048080004noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8412927775593160534.post-30678321237921850732013-08-30T09:16:00.001-07:002013-08-30T09:16:35.802-07:00Last Full Day of SummerSchool does not start until next Wednesday but yesterday was the last day where we woke up with no agenda. I had purposefully left this week as empty as possible to try to soak up some last minute time with my boys. What I failed to realize is that we are all pretty ready for school to start. Now, I'm not looking forward to getting up early, making lunches, having homework, and what not, but I am ready for the routine and predictability of school. And, I believe, the boys are ready to be with someone that is not me. Although Jack did say today he wished summer was 10 more weeks, I truly believe they are as ready as I am. <div>
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Even so, I was determined to make this last day count. I asked the boys for ideas on what they wanted to do on this last day. Micah offered up open swim at the local pool. Jack first said stay home all day, which was not a huge shock, but then changed it to the zoo. Finn just echoed whatever his bothers said. Going into Thursday I was debating swim or zoo, zoo or swim. Really, both are my least favorite activities, but it wasn't about me (or so I kept telling myself).</div>
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Unfortunately we woke to rain on Thursday. At first it was a little rain, and I thought we could probably do the zoo but then it said thundershowers/lightning were predicted later. So, no swim or zoo for us. Instead, and I know you are all dying to know, we went BOWLING. The one bowling alley near our house was recently torn down so it was pretty fun to surprise the boys by telling them we were going bowling. They were pretty sure I was crazy. But we went, we bowled, and we had a really good time.</div>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Showing our muscles</td></tr>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Agony waiting to see if any pins would be knocked down</td></tr>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Finn has the longest ball roll ever, sometimes it didn't even make it</td></tr>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">And bowling makes us hungry</td></tr>
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Also, I won. But I guess I shouldn't gloat since my competitors were under the age of 10.</div>
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Amyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05721801881048080004noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8412927775593160534.post-17197546725219682122013-08-06T11:06:00.000-07:002013-08-06T11:06:47.141-07:00It's That Time of Year...For Family Camp! Last <a href="http://lovethatbee.blogspot.com/2012/08/just-keep-scrolling.html">year</a> was the first year I took the boys to family camp. In the rational part of my mind I know it wasn't all sunshine and roses. I know I cried at least once, was sweaty hot, thought about begging Brandon to come up, and probably vowed to never do it again. But the emotional part of my mind only remembers how much fun the boys and I had. Leading up this week, we were talking about camp, what we were going to do, how much fun we would have, etc. But a couple of things happened that made this week much more challenging.<br />
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First, my dear niece suffered a sudden and very sad loss as her grandfather died in a hiking accident on Monday. We were all set to go camping with her on Wednesday, we had just been making plans and finalizing food, when we heard the news. While, my niece did come out to see us, we missed having her be with us.<br />
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Second, it rained. Not in a, oh look it's raining a bit, but rather, OH MY GOD IT'S RAINING. I dug my first trench as I worked to keep our tent from flooding. That was also the day of the memorial service. So not only was it raining, we also left camp for most of the day. When we came back Brandon was with us, but we were all wet, tired, and emotionally drained.<br />
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">It may not look impressive, but it was still a trench that I dug, in the rain, wearing my danskos.</td></tr>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Our reward for having to leave camp. I will confess we went not once but twice that day.</td></tr>
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But I love family camp. I really do. I loved going as a kid, I have fond memories (and a few hard ones) of working there when I was in high school, living there for a summer before finally saying good-bye when I went off to college. And I love watching my boys take off on their bikes and head off to their classes.<br />
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Finn mastered riding his bike. Now I have three pro-bike riders in the family.</td></tr>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">A rare moment of quiet time.</td></tr>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">One of our favorite things to do on camping trips: car repairs!</td></tr>
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In the end, it wasn't the week we had planned, but it was still a good week. The boys are singing camp songs all day (which is both good and bad). They have good memories of camping with grandma and Aunt Lisa, who is the most prepared person they know (according to Micah), and meeting new and old friends. <br />
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Miss Renna Jean, next year you will be 2 and twice the force to be reckoned with.</td></tr>
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Of course we already signed up for next year. Now on to recruit a few more friends to join us!</div>
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<br />Amyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05721801881048080004noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8412927775593160534.post-3683450887286635122013-07-29T09:46:00.000-07:002013-07-29T09:46:30.391-07:00Why We MovedThere are many things I like about our new house and location but there are some things that still make me sad. I miss walking to get coffee, and walking to the park. I miss being close to our church and my friends. I miss my kitchen. <br />
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But then today I am reminded of why we moved. Even before breakfast I had three boys begging to go for a bike ride. They willingly got dressed, put on shoes and helmets all before I found my coffee. And then they were off.<br />
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We live at the end of a dead end road with very few cars. The boys love it. They ride up and down the road, having races, playing games, and of course trying to not have another bike accident. <br />
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All the while I sat there, drinking my coffee and eating breakfast. It was a perfect way to start the day.<br />
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<br />Amyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05721801881048080004noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8412927775593160534.post-55337349237990330572013-06-28T19:19:00.000-07:002013-06-28T19:19:17.575-07:00His Dream, My NightmareFor years Brandon and I have vacationed in the same small mountain town. We first went there for a bike race and decided to go back for a week long vacation. What would we do in this town? It was actually the perfect place for us; Brandon could bike ride, I could read, we could go on hikes together. And it had a couple of yummy restaurants. All in all we were always so happy to be here. We used to take hikes before we had kids and talk about the hypothetical kids we might have one day. Then we brought our boys to this town and they also fell in love. <br />
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Every time we make the drive over the mountain pass, Brandon would mention how he would love to ride his bike over the mountains. I would always reply with, "when the boys are 18". This year we celebrate 15 years of wedded bliss and decided it was time to head back over, this time without kids. It had been 5 years since we last came to visit without the boys. And, this time, I told Brandon he could ride his bike. <br />
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The days leading up the trip, I have to admit I had a hard time sleeping. I wouldn't lie awake picturing terrible things happening to Brandon, but I would wake up each night with my mind racing. I have a deep fear of heights, plus watching cars race down the mountain and picturing Brandon on his little bike, was kind of nerve-racking. But the day finally arrived. And with it rain. Lots of rain.<br />
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Brandon did say if it was raining when we hit the starting point, he would not ride. Part of me was hopeful it would rain. The rest of me just wanted this over with. My job was to drive support. To meet Brandon at prearranged stopping points with extra water and snacks. He thought it would take 4-5 hours. I could just imagine how thrilling my drive was going to be. Drive, stop, wait, drive, stop, wait, and so on.<br />
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Brandon gave me vague descriptions of where to stop. All I heard was, not on the left side of the road, not at overlooks, and not more then 10-15 miles. Seemed easy enough. Except I missed the first meeting place. I was looking for a campground sign, but I needed to be looking for a resort sign. Minor details but it meant I drove an extra 20 miles before I finally realized I had indeed gone to far. No cell service meant I couldn't just park and text Brandon where I was. I drove back to what I thought was a prominent parking place and pulled off. I figured he couldn't miss a bright red car with an equally bright orange bike on top. And he didn't. But he was a little worried when he finally rode up. Missing the first rendezvous point meant Brandon was envisioning me attacked by some crazy mountain man. Nope, just lost.<br />
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From then on I stopped every 5 miles in an easy to see pull out. And then I waited. Once I took a nap, but mostly I read. And ate Pringles and drank Dr. Pepper. Because it was kind of lonely just sitting in the car waiting to see Brandon appear, only to drive off again.<br />
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But 4 hours later I waited for Brandon with the camera rolling. And there he was, hot, sweaty, and tired, but he did it. 60 miles, 7, 680 feet elevation gain later, and he was done. Dream come true for Brandon. And my nightmare of worry and terror was over.<br />
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At dinner that night Brandon mentioned taking our boys on the ride one day. Then he paused and said, "Maybe not, it was kind of intense."<br />
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Happy Anniversary, Babe.</div>
Amyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05721801881048080004noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8412927775593160534.post-37734238506773897142013-06-17T10:42:00.000-07:002013-06-17T10:42:09.902-07:00Finishing Strong<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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For years I've been in a small group with this woman whose life I feel I am mirroring. At the end of each school year she talks about encouraging her three sons to 'finish strong'. She is so excited for school to be ending, for getting her boys back, and for no more homework! As a former teacher I was always slightly skeptical of how excited she was for school to end. Until this year. I have been counting down the days until my boys were finally out of school.<br />
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Being a new school this year I was unprepared for the amount of events that happened the final week. Between field day, final field trips, year end parties, and last day send offs, I was at school every single day. And I kept repeating to myself and my boys, "just finish strong".<br />
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And finish we did. But maybe not as strong as I had hoped. I had plans for a special last day breakfast, a secret note tucked into lunches, thoughtful teacher gifts with hand written notes. And then we woke up at 7:20. Yes, 7:20. When we need to leave for school at 7:50. No special breakfast, no little notes in lunch boxes, in fact no lunch boxes at all. The only thing special was the boys were able to buy lunch since I was too late to even make lunch. We made it to drop off on time and with only a few tears. It wasn't quite the morning I had planned, but I'll take it.<br />
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Micah's Kindergarten Teacher</td></tr>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Jack's First Grade Teacher</td></tr>
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Here's to summer finally being here!</div>
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Amyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05721801881048080004noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8412927775593160534.post-69983757616389970492013-06-05T10:55:00.000-07:002013-06-05T10:55:05.196-07:00Jack's PlanMemorial Day weekend once again found us in Seaside for our annual trip. This was our 11th year there, which seems insane. I remember talking with my sisters years ago about what would this trip look like when my oldest nephew was in high school. Well, now we know, we are still going, we are still having fun, just in a different way. But that is not the point of this post.<br />
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One of the changes we did make this year was to stay at a place with no pool. Not having a pool is quite upsetting so we had to find an alternate plan. Little did we know Seaside had an amazing community pool. No more freezing swims, the pool was almost like taking a bath. Albeit with 50 strangers, but whatever. <br />
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On the way to the pool one day I saw a church for sale. I am always a little sad when I see a church building that is no longer in use. On the little country road my grandparents live on, stands a little white church. I remember going to services there, hearing my grandpa preach, being baptized there, watching my sister get married. But with all things change happens, and for this little church that meant closing for good. And becoming someones house. I am sure they think it is cool that they live in an old church, but every time we drive by, I still feel a little sad.<br />
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So as we drove by this church I said, "Look a church for sale"<br />
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And Jack says, "<i>We should by it"</i><br />
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I was so happy, in my mind I was thinking what a sweet, caring, godly boy Jack was.<br />
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And then he said: <i>"And then we could tear it down"</i><br />
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WAIT! WHAT?!<br />
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Here is his plan:<br />
<i>We could tear down the church and then build a bank. That way all the money in the bank would be ours. And then we could rob the bank, but we wouldn't go to jail because the bank and the money are ours.</i><br />
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I guess that's a creative idea, and he obviously understands not wanting to go to jail, unlike his brother, but still. While I was picturing buying the church and building a community, Jack was planning to become a wealthy business man who has a slight criminal side.<br />
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At least he's thinking.Amyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05721801881048080004noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8412927775593160534.post-56788616003386820982013-05-12T21:47:00.001-07:002013-05-12T21:47:12.198-07:00How to Train for a 5KJust to clarify I don't really know how to train for a 5K. I read a few websites that gave tips, but they seemed kind of intense so I just made up my own plan. It pretty much consisted of running around the block until I got tired and calling it done. In my mind I was quite the runner. I would go run a predetermined route and return out of breath, exhausted and sore, within 20 minutes.<br />
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Then I decided to try the app: Map My Run. Um, so I was not quite the amazing runner I had thought I was. In fact, between walking to warm up and cool down, I was only running a mile. I had to run 2 more miles to be ready for the 5K. This was not good news considering I was only a couple of weeks away from the run.<br />
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I even went for a run on my birthday present day of rest. I found that to be particularly admirable. I never quite made the full 3 miles in my training runs. I did hear that when training for a marathon you never run the entire distance before the race. You just get close and then hope that the adrenaline will carry you the rest of the way. I'm going to go with that theory. I also felt that running with the dogs was like a handicap. So, if I only ran 2 miles with the dogs that would be like running 10 miles without them. Or something like that.<br />
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The day of the big 'race' arrived. It technically wasn't a race, but saying fun run loses some of my street cred. My boys were very encouraging and gave me such tips as: "never give up", "do your best" and "encourage others". Okay, I think they may have just had some motivational speaker at school, but still it felt good. Although they really wanted me to win. I kept telling them that just crossing the finishing line was going to be winning to me.<br />
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To not keep you in suspense any longer. I did cross the finish line, and I did run the entire way. I give all credit to my friend who ran with me. I told her it was up to her to get me to keep running. At first she tried to keep my mind off the fact that my legs were killing me and we had only hit the 1K mark by asking me all sorts of questions. I finally panted, "Your (gasp) turn (gasp) talk (GASP)". And she did. Luckily she had some great stories from work to share and that got me at least another 1K. Then I only kept running because I was too embarrassed to stop and walk. But oh dear, I have never seen anything that made me happier then finally seeing the finish line. <br />
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Next year a 10K? Maybe. I'll decide after I can move my legs without screaming in agony.<br />
<br />Amyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05721801881048080004noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8412927775593160534.post-13716525613289197592013-04-15T21:20:00.000-07:002013-04-15T21:20:19.921-07:00To My Mini-MeDear Micah,<br />
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Tonight as I was starting the wind-up to bedtime, I said something like, "It's been a fun, busy day, and you have all run all day, and should be tired."<br />
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To which you said, "Tomorrow will be even more fun and busy." <br />
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And I hate to admit that my mind went blank. When I asked you why, you said, because it's my BIRTHDAY.<br />
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And, oh my, yes it is. We have been counting down your birthday for the last two weeks. We counted down as soon as mine ended. We counted down through Disneyland and back. I woke you up today singing the "Tomorrow" song, until you asked me to stop. I spent all day yelling, "TOMORROW IS YOU BIRTHDAY". But then tonight my mind just froze.<br />
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I can not believe you are turning 6 tomorrow. Your birth story is still my favorite one to tell. You are the only boy that was born in the middle of the night. You are also the only son of mine that was a true surprise. I loved having your aunts there waiting to meet you, to see the tears on Oh-cho's face when you were born. The moment your dad yelled, "It's a boy!" and I yelled, "Oh my God!", you become ours. <br />
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You are so special to me. You carry my dad's name. You are the one boy that truly looks like me, and therefore looks like my dad. You have the absolute best expressions, and can make my heart melt with a simple grin or break with the sad-I-don't-want-to-cry but-I-am face. You are truly an individual in my sea of boys.<br />
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Being the middle is hard. I blame most of my years in counseling simply on being a middle child. Never first, never last, never to have your own room, being in the middle is tough. But you are the most perfect middle child. You have been a support to Jack, an encourager and a playmate. The way you look up to him, play with him, and of course fight with him, has helped Jack more then you will ever know. And yet, when Jack is gone, you turn and become Finn's playmate. You become the leader, the big brother.<br />
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You are an enigma. So brave, strong, fierce, outgoing, athletic, and yet sensitive and hesitant too. You love to run fast, be tough, and talk big. But you hate, hate, hate amusement park rides. If the ride is fast, involves a drop, dip, or spin, you will not be on it. And yet, in all other areas of your life you are exactly like an amusement ride. You are loud (which I love), fast, you constantly change course, and keep us guessing what will come next.<br />
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You tell amazing stories so far you have told people you are blind, you can't use scissors because you are Egyptian, and you are half German because your socks don't match. With each story you give a little half grin and a shrug of the shoulders.<br />
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You make my heart melt just looking at you. From your perfectly kissable cheeks, to your still-toothless grin, you are truly my son. <br />
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Happy, happy, birthday Micah. I promise, when you wake up in the morning, I will NOT forget that it is your birthday.<br />
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Love, Mom<br />
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Amyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05721801881048080004noreply@blogger.com1