tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-81651896682246191982024-03-05T05:52:20.470-08:00A Fish and a Tree"Everybody is a genius. But if you judge a fish by its ability to climb a tree, it will live its whole life believing that it is stupid."
-Albert EinsteinSheila Fishhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02652464751800558347noreply@blogger.comBlogger12125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8165189668224619198.post-56744584831433196372014-04-01T20:26:00.001-07:002014-04-01T20:26:17.492-07:00Living proof I will give in to peer pressureThis post is dedicated to all you nay-sayers out there that accuse me of never taking pictures. <br />
<br />
You know who you are. <br />
<br />
You who say my children will never know what they looked like as kids. <br />
You who say they will think they're adopted because I have no pictures of them as little people. <br />
You who say my kiddos will think I was in jail and grandma raised them, because all of their lovely photos are at grandma's house and snapped by someone other than myself. <br />
<br />
Well, ha, joke's on you.<br />
<br />
I've given into peer pressure.<br />
<br />
I PRESENT: Cold, hard evidence that I have taken a photo or two.<br />
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............................................................................................................<br />
<br />
<br />
Or at least had someone else do it.<br />
<br />
Either way.<br />
<br />
Allow me to ramble whilst presenting my proof. Pull up a chair and grab a steaming cup o' cocoa, extra marshmallows. <br />
Or ice cold lemonade. How am I supposed to know what the weather is like where you live? For me, it's currently a balmy 13 degrees outside, so hot chocolate is what I'll be having. The good stuff. <br />
<br />
It's been a mere four months since the last time I updated my 'journal,' er, blog. It's been an exciting time. A crazy time. A difficult time. <br />
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The first longish story short: the cutest and sweetest little baby was born on November 18th. <br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjAQkPFyTM1KgQL9FEYI5Nyj3BxI2FKgJT8rYH3I69YQH945gj3f94Jqzx716E2AMS76ZPJIDBmIV3bNWlHvEWsVwrvbAwYnDJTzXJZ0zaBif92bqpSMZj6AKyCJQEzVwJWujU8ojU0/s1600/DSC_0357.JPG" imageanchor="1" ><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjAQkPFyTM1KgQL9FEYI5Nyj3BxI2FKgJT8rYH3I69YQH945gj3f94Jqzx716E2AMS76ZPJIDBmIV3bNWlHvEWsVwrvbAwYnDJTzXJZ0zaBif92bqpSMZj6AKyCJQEzVwJWujU8ojU0/s640/DSC_0357.JPG" /></a><br />
<br />
I had to have another c-section due to my two previous ones... <br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjQAUw9P7OyCnHOFPPHzUKj36KuuVN_77a-9RKKgGazL8DLBOp9dzyDPaBV6x_J8IMDhoPmDjGp24lFmTZtLrVqkPKM3Y-a9NSCU0tjlX_Rj0PfOL-8bKZIxhU8-QnDjW22JyQMNjA0/s1600/DSC_0378.JPG" imageanchor="1" ><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjQAUw9P7OyCnHOFPPHzUKj36KuuVN_77a-9RKKgGazL8DLBOp9dzyDPaBV6x_J8IMDhoPmDjGp24lFmTZtLrVqkPKM3Y-a9NSCU0tjlX_Rj0PfOL-8bKZIxhU8-QnDjW22JyQMNjA0/s640/DSC_0378.JPG" /></a><br />
<br />
...but the positive thing about that is at least it is scheduled so as to guarantee a person a grand total of 22 minutes of sleep the night before.<br />
<br />
<br />
Oh! And I was able to persuade my darling sister-in-law to come and snap a few photos of the whole shebang. I was really, really grateful.<br />
<br />
(<i>Small shoutout: If you live in the Idaho Falls area and are ever in need of a photographer, look her up. She's spectacular.</i>)<br />
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<br />
WARNING: IF YOU FAINT AT THE SIGHT OF BLOOD, MAYBE LOOK AWAY.<br />
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Just scroll down without peeking. I won't judge.<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjwR_3Gx1K6N10WkV1rQQQwrrJkaJgdRFgNHbZfeUuj5NLS9ZeMVXAXBtf-YJlBhNF9V-BzptH8KEi3TfTFFbheKBEQ1-dHrw9028k9um8nIx1259Z89phyphenhyphenw4f8faDQT42U8nfU4S41/s1600/DSC_0409.JPG" imageanchor="1" ><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjwR_3Gx1K6N10WkV1rQQQwrrJkaJgdRFgNHbZfeUuj5NLS9ZeMVXAXBtf-YJlBhNF9V-BzptH8KEi3TfTFFbheKBEQ1-dHrw9028k9um8nIx1259Z89phyphenhyphenw4f8faDQT42U8nfU4S41/s640/DSC_0409.JPG" /></a><br />
<br />
<br />
Presenting: BABY!<br />
<br />
That's as graphic as it's going to get. Gotta keep things G-rated.<br />
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<br />
The pictures are so nice for me because then I can better remember the moments that are pretty hazy due to being under the influence of some serious painkillers...<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgJF1kwCTr8qGrwAnKdG3wVk8iQ2pD-GbnmPNYD4jeF44x6aMQW0kKXyoeCEJXsWjhaRDjaadG96xGZ9A02hIIML7JqK23T31uTug-9orIizDiIV6ZjEY5v9PXT7LG-8Fae-joxXnAh/s1600/DSC_0455.JPG" imageanchor="1" ><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgJF1kwCTr8qGrwAnKdG3wVk8iQ2pD-GbnmPNYD4jeF44x6aMQW0kKXyoeCEJXsWjhaRDjaadG96xGZ9A02hIIML7JqK23T31uTug-9orIizDiIV6ZjEY5v9PXT7LG-8Fae-joxXnAh/s640/DSC_0455.JPG" /></a><br />
<br />
...and see the moments I'm not able to witness in person due to being sewn back up..<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgM1PW72525hoAT7DFv7GOGSjGMdtpPpg-pBEPEmcgeYvxvovPQ9hZiE3KqZWzdtbCVpTsBPYvK2gT2OOKJilJ3QcZ4C3mBNov70rgpdOXx0_hGU_LaTDkMlB_3BYgDBOaclIzUqyQY/s1600/DSC_0469.JPG" imageanchor="1" ><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgM1PW72525hoAT7DFv7GOGSjGMdtpPpg-pBEPEmcgeYvxvovPQ9hZiE3KqZWzdtbCVpTsBPYvK2gT2OOKJilJ3QcZ4C3mBNov70rgpdOXx0_hGU_LaTDkMlB_3BYgDBOaclIzUqyQY/s640/DSC_0469.JPG" /></a><br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj_XVK_l7wn6IAlGGpMurndiQqPYlUeF-VrAP2IXckUGrCzENaNIW0TilRJyjWs9yrqoIv4zwpW2zd0L0-iB7pkDtY45Mlcy_LEN2_7C0lEp2V1MtI2uFhHJs6K8-y0NDKf48zp2uRH/s1600/DSC_0470.JPG" imageanchor="1" ><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj_XVK_l7wn6IAlGGpMurndiQqPYlUeF-VrAP2IXckUGrCzENaNIW0TilRJyjWs9yrqoIv4zwpW2zd0L0-iB7pkDtY45Mlcy_LEN2_7C0lEp2V1MtI2uFhHJs6K8-y0NDKf48zp2uRH/s640/DSC_0470.JPG" /></a><br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgYdXaBJ8dxEkYW3__RJjI8k911yOQTFpBnueon0C0j8N19CqQegNZMYTtQ35wR46jvu4Y1MgCl_NUvO6CHPj7ywSAY5697XtcFPMQKRwtqwQDgn5qJkcMkXYAIJ_7FT8Mn8KzJqWqM/s1600/DSC_0486.JPG" imageanchor="1" ><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgYdXaBJ8dxEkYW3__RJjI8k911yOQTFpBnueon0C0j8N19CqQegNZMYTtQ35wR46jvu4Y1MgCl_NUvO6CHPj7ywSAY5697XtcFPMQKRwtqwQDgn5qJkcMkXYAIJ_7FT8Mn8KzJqWqM/s640/DSC_0486.JPG" /></a><br />
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<br />
My perfect little baby BOY!<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjhld9MfFb623ECOJ59kaPIbOOW-grpeXo3CRzM_TFQV5JIFsg2cHJKOpNQIm44ys1KtkoSzPzfpcdea67rilue22QKUhCdt0k71L9UqWD5z1U9Al_VB0QFJEt3jtVR10hhju516Dx6/s1600/DSC_0508.JPG" imageanchor="1" ><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjhld9MfFb623ECOJ59kaPIbOOW-grpeXo3CRzM_TFQV5JIFsg2cHJKOpNQIm44ys1KtkoSzPzfpcdea67rilue22QKUhCdt0k71L9UqWD5z1U9Al_VB0QFJEt3jtVR10hhju516Dx6/s640/DSC_0508.JPG" /></a><br />
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You will remember that even with my seventy-five hundred ultrasounds, we went into the surgery not knowing if this sweet person was a girl or boy. <br />
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And he was a boy.<br />
<br />
Awesomesauce.<br />
<br />
<i>(Did I just say that? <br />
<br />
Eh.<br />
<br />
I'm definitely not getting wittier and/or improving my vocabulary as I'm getting older. Bummer.)</i><br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiqRb4EjtnP7Z2BdbaHIcxUZov5NrFOBYkBFg0Ni7zKpjmMiDtRf1pBANT4jC9qBIuXrK2IqYzUTN3fWQBJZ9DivRBaDCnnWAmI32g45xKspgCjkR1ANUQ0WXbfBOXUnJ22Blx8Ojzd/s1600/DSC_0495.JPG" imageanchor="1" ><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiqRb4EjtnP7Z2BdbaHIcxUZov5NrFOBYkBFg0Ni7zKpjmMiDtRf1pBANT4jC9qBIuXrK2IqYzUTN3fWQBJZ9DivRBaDCnnWAmI32g45xKspgCjkR1ANUQ0WXbfBOXUnJ22Blx8Ojzd/s640/DSC_0495.JPG" /></a><br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhca6ZGNLc1jt7ALLFoLc9Jl-5OLwINButA_8OyD4mv4uE6dRsUfWqwI0FG8NpRcOFNrsDw0ivzzXxrL2SL3lw_qMeJREJollQ754IUbfGD0ccxYmQDWJ7Qou62vct-vDPUcv2OBmmc/s1600/DSC_0532.JPG" imageanchor="1" ><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhca6ZGNLc1jt7ALLFoLc9Jl-5OLwINButA_8OyD4mv4uE6dRsUfWqwI0FG8NpRcOFNrsDw0ivzzXxrL2SL3lw_qMeJREJollQ754IUbfGD0ccxYmQDWJ7Qou62vct-vDPUcv2OBmmc/s640/DSC_0532.JPG" /></a><br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgbWQKTpoBVvNhm8jMzON8y363SxMHfWHnQApvXHJuPb4JGVBDfURMVZ2xyHK2oGRs_ivbdQoRwZdTeTIER2P3CirhtgIazIdpXzsdeHLmNpXYsOCbCu59XSVs_HBRGQe8UXMO8pWV6/s1600/DSC_0529.JPG" imageanchor="1" ><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgbWQKTpoBVvNhm8jMzON8y363SxMHfWHnQApvXHJuPb4JGVBDfURMVZ2xyHK2oGRs_ivbdQoRwZdTeTIER2P3CirhtgIazIdpXzsdeHLmNpXYsOCbCu59XSVs_HBRGQe8UXMO8pWV6/s640/DSC_0529.JPG" /></a><br />
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Sure love that cute little mug. Well, both of those mugs.<br />
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He was nameless for a <i>mere</i> four days until we finally settled on the name of Porter Kenneth. And by "we finally settled" I actually mean that I gave up in exasperation of trying to agree on something and told Jackson he had the honor of choosing the name.<br />
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But I think he did a pretty good job.<br />
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<br />
So for the next several days I was fortunate enough to experience the comfy-ness of a hospital bed and some pretty cute visitors.<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj4c0eJb960nVGDNadesHfRhRqjlr_hQtLjEzdUG5pQNvfgZ3w-6HeYRExmlFf4SeSwjWDrymc18HhWeFjwQMwLJ-DM7ECyCcP9Pv0qBPzDik4YtTSd9Ze3MwDQMaM2u97dgPijWqtE/s1600/IMG_20131118_161917_128.jpg" imageanchor="1" ><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj4c0eJb960nVGDNadesHfRhRqjlr_hQtLjEzdUG5pQNvfgZ3w-6HeYRExmlFf4SeSwjWDrymc18HhWeFjwQMwLJ-DM7ECyCcP9Pv0qBPzDik4YtTSd9Ze3MwDQMaM2u97dgPijWqtE/s640/IMG_20131118_161917_128.jpg" /></a><br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhWlDZfOFiheQ5OgiUBN78zVQp7iJVDNwPiaITaQMupPR-Z4L19_Cko-u982GhEARgWw_yYR0FWZQ79uuOEgj1-BNKf2INyiAJDwUpSSLHATv3W0wRi5TiydyYrLvSYhEkB_s2sKaNY/s1600/IMG_20131120_115433_559.jpg" imageanchor="1" ><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhWlDZfOFiheQ5OgiUBN78zVQp7iJVDNwPiaITaQMupPR-Z4L19_Cko-u982GhEARgWw_yYR0FWZQ79uuOEgj1-BNKf2INyiAJDwUpSSLHATv3W0wRi5TiydyYrLvSYhEkB_s2sKaNY/s640/IMG_20131120_115433_559.jpg" /></a><br />
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Jackson was a champ taking care of the ol' homefront. <br />
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And I have to say a BIG THANK YOU to all of our family and friends that were soooooo helpful and nice to our family while we were adjusting to minion nĂºmero tres being around. You, the ones who watched the other yahoos, brought meals, helped me clean things around the house, and on and on... <br />
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You people are terrific.<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg_xmtqognA1_ThlvoxkgMnyXUUMRxtSmPmdmmFFUTwZ3VkVrrODAzTLEbCraqSqTqGUAm0JR7iniv7ooX1XzZKuJH6Mi6E-702gASDntbTPJMVpWunCPF5vHJcHO7G8ipQEeEDtRBE/s1600/IMG_20131118_122542_092.jpg" imageanchor="1" ><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg_xmtqognA1_ThlvoxkgMnyXUUMRxtSmPmdmmFFUTwZ3VkVrrODAzTLEbCraqSqTqGUAm0JR7iniv7ooX1XzZKuJH6Mi6E-702gASDntbTPJMVpWunCPF5vHJcHO7G8ipQEeEDtRBE/s640/IMG_20131118_122542_092.jpg" /></a><br />
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Now for the best part. Remember all the stress surrounding this baby's heart prior to him being born? Unprecedented mystery and all that? Well, the little man's heart resumed back to a "normal" rate about two weeks after he was born.<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi1NEOmPb8fQbl_IxeKY8qrDgKfL6M3_xLautO7P0HATuagRVTGm_r9Wan24_yuf_pMmNG5PqCVknZ_zDlE4aqpRatUbIUKW2bLamsE7k3HYLSnJ0Yt9R22wb72V2-3ziJfRREqYlbJ/s1600/DSC_0488.JPG" imageanchor="1" ><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi1NEOmPb8fQbl_IxeKY8qrDgKfL6M3_xLautO7P0HATuagRVTGm_r9Wan24_yuf_pMmNG5PqCVknZ_zDlE4aqpRatUbIUKW2bLamsE7k3HYLSnJ0Yt9R22wb72V2-3ziJfRREqYlbJ/s640/DSC_0488.JPG" /></a><br />
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We had various tests done, and everything came back looking good. Relief, anyone? So best guesses for now is that my body initiates some sort of an autoimmune response to pregnancies....but not all of them....and for some unknown reason. <br />
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A conundrum. Perhaps something for House to find the solution to after 45 minutes of wrong guesses by all the other doctors.<br />
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In the meantime, our little buddy has been growing:<br />
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<i>(Some pictures are a little fuzzy, but, hey, I'm a novice to this picture-taking thingamabob, remember?)</i><br />
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<a href="" imageanchor="1" ><img border="0" src="" /></a><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh5Lo3Ng7GOGt9nRt7tdeGSbo6eZOvj7Nbeluh1Vh7PG8n-RWza9PcsJ-I5fXvQQYE8sd6sHaZu4vu_9YBD53Y98MwF4ZhAV9GIiS4zRP5kIvnt_F2GM4N1n0-D2KTPvA2qocgT0IGE/s1600/F27.jpg" imageanchor="1" ><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh5Lo3Ng7GOGt9nRt7tdeGSbo6eZOvj7Nbeluh1Vh7PG8n-RWza9PcsJ-I5fXvQQYE8sd6sHaZu4vu_9YBD53Y98MwF4ZhAV9GIiS4zRP5kIvnt_F2GM4N1n0-D2KTPvA2qocgT0IGE/s640/F27.jpg" /></a><br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhZNwM7djzKsK7IpyEdvKx2HHVJEgvf_7pH6LhO7i56-gYMJ_lDuqCdabuO1G4fhQWS-WWccmxty1EClHLTynrDxTlUu_g_N3VLgkj-B05Ra1KhGJXgO9GOP1YBp3Z-vHenJKsUtlNz/s1600/DSC_0083.JPG" imageanchor="1" ><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhZNwM7djzKsK7IpyEdvKx2HHVJEgvf_7pH6LhO7i56-gYMJ_lDuqCdabuO1G4fhQWS-WWccmxty1EClHLTynrDxTlUu_g_N3VLgkj-B05Ra1KhGJXgO9GOP1YBp3Z-vHenJKsUtlNz/s640/DSC_0083.JPG" /></a><br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj_sU-Ij79MT75BD2htgMiLVx0wfJ09KfXKCiO3pqxiudAun8-Lkw4C1hjF0cU5to6kCeUKku-fceQjjCAKSe5IDuUdje1a6MooxZhyphenhyphen33VcTqoSTvB77KBZp1pLVNXJLY8wnVAXKruN/s1600/IMG_20140119_123935_332.jpg" imageanchor="1" ><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj_sU-Ij79MT75BD2htgMiLVx0wfJ09KfXKCiO3pqxiudAun8-Lkw4C1hjF0cU5to6kCeUKku-fceQjjCAKSe5IDuUdje1a6MooxZhyphenhyphen33VcTqoSTvB77KBZp1pLVNXJLY8wnVAXKruN/s640/IMG_20140119_123935_332.jpg" /></a><br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhMGmblR7xg_GbCT2Ha0UbPh95kus4AATgZtlGDk6De8AgeJagVi6OUY0Xj4LXM-qniJoGSYXbfKvEx58TRzSrBvscrtF8KlUqbClT3ZJ5lNe_HiPGW8N7H68watwJFlcwHaKa9hq1V/s1600/IMG_20140213_144658_051.jpg" imageanchor="1" ><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhMGmblR7xg_GbCT2Ha0UbPh95kus4AATgZtlGDk6De8AgeJagVi6OUY0Xj4LXM-qniJoGSYXbfKvEx58TRzSrBvscrtF8KlUqbClT3ZJ5lNe_HiPGW8N7H68watwJFlcwHaKa9hq1V/s640/IMG_20140213_144658_051.jpg" /></a><br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjwLeI_1udapce1KynaOL7fp8flinP_umV9iWCoSAL-_mjJJe9lHm3tpZs_Jm4LpSRXdYxJmrVE7x2ofZ-h3jihm4oZTfVtSQy8WyEcEG7IvH6Sx-qIAYWMFou9F5AF-55jwcXc2sgj/s1600/IMG_20140325_130040_402.jpg" imageanchor="1" ><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjwLeI_1udapce1KynaOL7fp8flinP_umV9iWCoSAL-_mjJJe9lHm3tpZs_Jm4LpSRXdYxJmrVE7x2ofZ-h3jihm4oZTfVtSQy8WyEcEG7IvH6Sx-qIAYWMFou9F5AF-55jwcXc2sgj/s640/IMG_20140325_130040_402.jpg" /></a><br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjP28_4YxeV1XojOYiTZ3SaZJxIC0N75vbA-5nkeHlwwwiHJ335AP6HdacgOsLi4aO2RWq9kr2J83jDHdx2H3J9XIzMcr8vFhwnRVj87YGe5AGFV1sCRII8389AXBJMzw0_Oz8LDVrA/s1600/IMG_20140325_165324_884.jpg" imageanchor="1" ><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjP28_4YxeV1XojOYiTZ3SaZJxIC0N75vbA-5nkeHlwwwiHJ335AP6HdacgOsLi4aO2RWq9kr2J83jDHdx2H3J9XIzMcr8vFhwnRVj87YGe5AGFV1sCRII8389AXBJMzw0_Oz8LDVrA/s640/IMG_20140325_165324_884.jpg" /></a><br />
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Brylee-boo turned the big 0<i></i>4<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhkhBh184ICq0i_ov0qh755lmLP8yWo3sSj2jRsEXINeWgOCAszvOmtshwTp9kE432kEriuzDf4hEZbVzrw1CHmTfFjGnKpfE0_kghLN4yOJiTqqnNRGEX-h2RxCg4K9MA4u7NmCqj7/s1600/IMG_20140226_184947_711.jpg" imageanchor="1" ><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhkhBh184ICq0i_ov0qh755lmLP8yWo3sSj2jRsEXINeWgOCAszvOmtshwTp9kE432kEriuzDf4hEZbVzrw1CHmTfFjGnKpfE0_kghLN4yOJiTqqnNRGEX-h2RxCg4K9MA4u7NmCqj7/s640/IMG_20140226_184947_711.jpg" /></a><br />
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Don't laugh. She wanted a Mickey cake, and I can't afford Cake Boss to make her one. Plus she's a 4-year-old....so.....there ya go.<br />
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Fine. Laugh if you want. It's not the most glorious cake, I know. <br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhXbzsuT9svOzCZlSalavaXRzJ9qL41ldD8onMEK-aJoqwrPOQXC-AAidYd5NFpom6ZJDJb48JZv5DJjzrJ8LivNflpE2Y5365FThueKgGlR3cOtbGuhbGumZbcbfBjUz9vpy4FJ0WJ/s1600/IMG_20140226_185431_218.jpg" imageanchor="1" ><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhXbzsuT9svOzCZlSalavaXRzJ9qL41ldD8onMEK-aJoqwrPOQXC-AAidYd5NFpom6ZJDJb48JZv5DJjzrJ8LivNflpE2Y5365FThueKgGlR3cOtbGuhbGumZbcbfBjUz9vpy4FJ0WJ/s640/IMG_20140226_185431_218.jpg" /></a><br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhvc1Zb_qWxOuphFRtsl6gWZ5V5gPkVTzqnq5bwbkFYh48SLVVLD2c0jiPR1SgS3ixozFxhJfgXSvvOY-jWZfUgL_qOgfQU_hwQ2BrGM0fBNE3exZyVJBYcQTDiaTYkU70mN94N9lVY/s1600/IMG_20140226_185447_055.jpg" imageanchor="1" ><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhvc1Zb_qWxOuphFRtsl6gWZ5V5gPkVTzqnq5bwbkFYh48SLVVLD2c0jiPR1SgS3ixozFxhJfgXSvvOY-jWZfUgL_qOgfQU_hwQ2BrGM0fBNE3exZyVJBYcQTDiaTYkU70mN94N9lVY/s640/IMG_20140226_185447_055.jpg" /></a><br />
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The girls have been cute little things (as usual) over the past couple of months...<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjBDWbh1qg-UQ-7mG5PjJhDcVSbaoWgAklGCMAxaV2rWLd7fn3d1KIcBgwRXlnliGSQz8m2z0eo9LIm7mYzVxL70tamsOMvLgeaaMq2yl1AgvJf9b-HKRJZLZvUMYlcCYMvTU2MDSGD/s1600/DSC_0027.JPG" imageanchor="1" ><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjBDWbh1qg-UQ-7mG5PjJhDcVSbaoWgAklGCMAxaV2rWLd7fn3d1KIcBgwRXlnliGSQz8m2z0eo9LIm7mYzVxL70tamsOMvLgeaaMq2yl1AgvJf9b-HKRJZLZvUMYlcCYMvTU2MDSGD/s640/DSC_0027.JPG" /></a><br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgOWnn6BVLucMDNKKCAlilpJUhPCQyCTMUrfaJ5H8l2dC62j3ihKGypBL1Y3VRLNxlGmqyA79Lm8WayENV9UWHo4IqH29MkVmhI6stMjTckP2RMyL8AKESehSIbjZDtdH1PIvdBEcA9/s1600/DSC_0038.JPG" imageanchor="1" ><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgOWnn6BVLucMDNKKCAlilpJUhPCQyCTMUrfaJ5H8l2dC62j3ihKGypBL1Y3VRLNxlGmqyA79Lm8WayENV9UWHo4IqH29MkVmhI6stMjTckP2RMyL8AKESehSIbjZDtdH1PIvdBEcA9/s640/DSC_0038.JPG" /></a><br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEguaNuWHUdEL-ROdftu5hsMNYFU_rI-OMLxcVt9bLq-8sBwlLbyGRkE2q0MyAxVVHeTPncybSOB3NAZ67cqFV_cJ-Mlaqj9kTmMLw6KL_OUNRoR41rLAmLmVt9KRmIDkyVUO0e73g-1/s1600/DSC_0070.JPG" imageanchor="1" ><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEguaNuWHUdEL-ROdftu5hsMNYFU_rI-OMLxcVt9bLq-8sBwlLbyGRkE2q0MyAxVVHeTPncybSOB3NAZ67cqFV_cJ-Mlaqj9kTmMLw6KL_OUNRoR41rLAmLmVt9KRmIDkyVUO0e73g-1/s640/DSC_0070.JPG" /></a><br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgW9A-_W8mG0exy4OZ6l7e8fsHcKIT-b1ksK7_qqArfsh00YnBtWGTiBbc-tN6OM7UjDhjDqyRI_TkDVvoSyH6l7fiSwUoRcjY0N7fVjNLv4337y5LsJqabLIIWZf6DdHbtkeionlSM/s1600/DSC_0080.JPG" imageanchor="1" ><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgW9A-_W8mG0exy4OZ6l7e8fsHcKIT-b1ksK7_qqArfsh00YnBtWGTiBbc-tN6OM7UjDhjDqyRI_TkDVvoSyH6l7fiSwUoRcjY0N7fVjNLv4337y5LsJqabLIIWZf6DdHbtkeionlSM/s640/DSC_0080.JPG" /></a><br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhNefT0JPgvSY27EPogaCU9nV3buZnu3DgqSHkxQF4GuYfqifydojSCk6DNcVN1nDTAJb-fnkaKBNunSQU6A7ULnR_MtEq5vqU60RStLxCWb8QnGd3o2C_v2IksEi3BeJV5IItGt7x9/s1600/DSC_0082.JPG" imageanchor="1" ><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhNefT0JPgvSY27EPogaCU9nV3buZnu3DgqSHkxQF4GuYfqifydojSCk6DNcVN1nDTAJb-fnkaKBNunSQU6A7ULnR_MtEq5vqU60RStLxCWb8QnGd3o2C_v2IksEi3BeJV5IItGt7x9/s640/DSC_0082.JPG" /></a><br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhqRVVg8gwsXycPBIoC5QCJiOEP0LGuLLDVgqcy952hWcQfo3oPaYMraPKih98ZQhPDEpR_vZpv4v8W51J5q6Rmi8XqVGmZyq_vBObMe0MUo_fkHf-1EyyxhMROrDZoiUuaQQJF2SoP/s1600/IMG_20140204_160724_721.jpg" imageanchor="1" ><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhqRVVg8gwsXycPBIoC5QCJiOEP0LGuLLDVgqcy952hWcQfo3oPaYMraPKih98ZQhPDEpR_vZpv4v8W51J5q6Rmi8XqVGmZyq_vBObMe0MUo_fkHf-1EyyxhMROrDZoiUuaQQJF2SoP/s640/IMG_20140204_160724_721.jpg" /></a><br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhF4XHbMsnMZ96r2RwJEPeS1pHLLcNy5u-2bbD6Ta7tCxmrnSXhStpmMf24pvcLw9Xo5H-F4G-AUCwy6QsH7P9Gftc8nSZUg2TuHtacY7lYZrmKNVBSQjhGgzsCdiZdGnL-PBs7clTV/s1600/IMG_20140209_155628_127.jpg" imageanchor="1" ><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhF4XHbMsnMZ96r2RwJEPeS1pHLLcNy5u-2bbD6Ta7tCxmrnSXhStpmMf24pvcLw9Xo5H-F4G-AUCwy6QsH7P9Gftc8nSZUg2TuHtacY7lYZrmKNVBSQjhGgzsCdiZdGnL-PBs7clTV/s640/IMG_20140209_155628_127.jpg" /></a><br />
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They're the best of friends.<br />
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<br />
And at the end of January we said goodbye to our family and friends<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjJ_IrsH7zWoXDL6mVGC5mvX_U5CcqPx6fLZspYI_uFyBa_NVvHYZB8aTNzVl9Vb0oS_vHIcWu6JXLLEEPedMF8_R1fY7PA1h0CGR5CVJhKT5aVZ56US_Aqy7BH8MXZpGWHgLHaJcIy/s1600/IMG_20140121_154628_479.jpg" imageanchor="1" ><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjJ_IrsH7zWoXDL6mVGC5mvX_U5CcqPx6fLZspYI_uFyBa_NVvHYZB8aTNzVl9Vb0oS_vHIcWu6JXLLEEPedMF8_R1fY7PA1h0CGR5CVJhKT5aVZ56US_Aqy7BH8MXZpGWHgLHaJcIy/s640/IMG_20140121_154628_479.jpg" /></a><br />
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<br />
and embarked on a longish journey off to the wintry iceland of North Dakota.<br />
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Which has been interesting.<br />
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<br />
But we've survived the frozen tundra for almost three months now! Hooray! <br />
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But more on that next time. For now, I'm off to take more pictures!<br />
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Just kidding. I'm actually going to bed.<br />
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Thanks for reading.Sheila Fishhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02652464751800558347noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8165189668224619198.post-90322248982288371052013-11-11T21:32:00.000-08:002013-11-11T21:32:10.526-08:00DAYS OF OUR LIVES - Act II Scene IIII feel as though my life has been a little bit soap opera-esque lately.. packed with drama, drama, drama. But absent from this soap lifestyle is the ridiculously good looking housewives and illegitimate children. Or something. I've never actually seen a soap opera, so my best guesses comes from checkout stand magazine images and the Spanish soap opera episode on Modern Family. Both are entirely accurate, I'm sure.<br />
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So, anyway, last week was, frankly, not the best week of my entire life. Stressful. Filled with negative energy. Call it what you will. Tears were involved. As a result of those tears, headaches became involved. Pregnancy hormones were involved, which (as everyone knows) makes everything a wee bit more dramatic than maybe it actually is.<br />
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I've been going in for doctors' appointments at least three times a week (sometimes more if they're especially missing my presence :). Babe's heart rate has been a little more sporadic/all over the place this past week... which has not been overly comforting to me. Wednesday we had a really hard time even getting a reading for a variety of reasons, and then the readings would be super high, go back down really low, just really inconsistent and random. Couple that with the fact that I've been feeling a bit more anxiety overall about the pregnancy the last week or two, and, well, anyway, I wasn't really handling things super well. Couple that with the fact that I truly am pregnant and I think those pregnancy hormones really do affect rational thinking at times, and, well... you get the picture. And that's a lot of fact coupling.<br />
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Anyway, one of the doctors has come to the conclusion that what is going on is something called Long-QT Syndrome. After the sporadic/non-tracking heart appointment on Wednesday I decided to look it up and see if it was a diagnosis I agreed with. Keep in mind that I currently have a five-year-old that had the exact same symptomology in utero... so my super-rational brain is thinking that if the baby has Long-QT Syndrome, then likely that's what my five-year-old has/had.<br />
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So I googled Long-QT Syndrome (hereafter abbreviated LQTS for typing purposes so I don't get too exhausted).<br />
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And in retrospect determined this was a bad idea for an already emotional pregnant lady.<br />
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I read through the first article that looked reputable. It's from The Mayo Clinic, which I think is a fairly reliable website? I'm just not a Wikipedia kind of girl.<br />
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First paragraph from the Mayo Clinic: <i>"Long QT syndrome (LQTS) is a heart rhythm disorder that can potentially cause fast, chaotic heartbeats. These rapid heartbeats may trigger a sudden fainting spell or seizure. In some cases, your heart may beat erratically for so long that it can cause sudden death."</i><br />
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Hmmm.<br />
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<i>"Many people with long QT syndrome don't have any signs or symptoms. For people who do experience signs and symptoms of long QT syndrome, the most common long QT symptoms include: Fainting...Seizures...Sudden Death"</i><br />
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<i>"Signs and symptoms of inherited long QT syndrome may start during the first months of life, or as late as middle age. Most people who experience signs or symptoms from long QT syndrome have their first episode by the time they reach age 40."</i><br />
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<i>"Long QT Syndrome results from abnormalities in the heart's electrical recharging system. However, the heart's structure is normal. Abnormalities in your heart's electrical system may be inherited or acquired due to an underlying medical condition or a medication."</i><br />
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I completely just copied and pasted due to laziness of not wanting to paraphrase. I believe that's called plagiarism. I actually think that paraphrasing is a form of plagiarism as well... so might as well copy and paste. Justification. Feel free to know that the italic words are not mine and are courtesy of the Internet, specifically the Mayo Clinic. Disclaimer over. <br />
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So a diagnosis that's not exactly sunshine and rainbows. Well, I've got a little baby with suspected Long-QT Syndrome. And I've got a little girl that had the same issues as said baby who has had a total of zero monitoring or tests done to see if there is, in fact, something wrong with her heart. <br />
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Stress. Drama. No good.<br />
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Now, what's a momma to do? Part of it is easy. I make appointments for the very next day to take my little Addy in to get an EKG done and check out what's going on with her heart electrically. The other part is not so easy: try to not stress. I spend lots of time praying, reading scriptures, listening to uplifting music, trying to get some feeling of peace. I certainly know that stress is no good for the almost 6-pound baby I've spend the last nine months growing, so I really am trying to not just fall apart. I had little success in the sleep department, so, of course, that does not help.<br />
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While I was busy not getting sleep, I was pondering a lot on the principle of faith this past week. Wondering if the reason I'm having a difficult time with everything is because of a lack of faith, an inability to "let go." <br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg46kJqkncQaUHjJacWRORHvaHV4ueFfqsfahZ9yiPROis7dV6RVkf0leS-lWiUn8vWPc7uzOIj1s5_RT6oPH7n_IvgkOaoPss-T0DVYmKnH3rc5LnRJ4jdWM59XMgvQ4ODHdqsTDwd/s1600/Screen+Shot+2012-11-09+at+2.52.45+PM.png" imageanchor="1" ><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg46kJqkncQaUHjJacWRORHvaHV4ueFfqsfahZ9yiPROis7dV6RVkf0leS-lWiUn8vWPc7uzOIj1s5_RT6oPH7n_IvgkOaoPss-T0DVYmKnH3rc5LnRJ4jdWM59XMgvQ4ODHdqsTDwd/s640/Screen+Shot+2012-11-09+at+2.52.45+PM.png" /></a><br />
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I thought a lot about Elder Holland's talk in the April 2013 conference called "Lord, I Believe." If you haven't watched/read it, it's worth your time. http://www.lds.org/general-conference/2013/04/lord-i-believe?lang=eng#2-10785_000_51holland <br />
I found myself relating a lot to the father found in the book of Mark asking for the Savior's help in healing his child. Jesus tells him that all things are possible to them that believe, and straightway the man cries out "Lord, I believe; help thou my unbelief."<br />
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And this is how I feel. Help my unbelief. Here I am, and I feel in my heart of hearts that everything will be fine. Things will turn out okay. I also know that my current definition of "fine" and "okay" may not be what is in store for us. But big picture stuff, I truly believe that the Lord loves me, and, more importantly, my children, and He will do what's best for them. And for me. <br />
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So why the anguish and worry? A part of it I think is a lack of faith, the "help my unbelief" part. And part of it I think is a normal human emotion. There is many an instance in studying the lives of righteous individuals, prophets, and even the Savior himself when He asked to let the cup be passed from Him that shows that sometimes the things we are called to do may not be the things we want to go do or want to go through. And that's okay. Those times may be difficult as we are traveling through the trial of our faith. I think that's okay as well. It's mortality. <br />
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But just because I struggle with something, does that mean I want to be stuck in a never-ending pit of despair and self-pity? Of course not. What I'm saying is I think it's honestly okay to have times in our lives that are hard. Times where we struggle, that we are forced to cut back, to simplify, to pray more, to be more reflective, to ask for help. These are the experiences that humanize us, that make us rely more fully on our God, that build compassion and love into our souls. And I think it's okay if it's not all sunshine and roses. I don't think it was meant to be. But how blessed are we to have the gift of faith and trust that things will work out. Alma tells us that "even if ye can no more than desire to believe, let this desire work in you, even until ye believe."<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgwtAe-D2bnda05_8Ak-q3TCXlk14aKkxlYZQUSz8RNXqOanOaU8GFaQTfM-7g_vpZ1msSUJ3jtPSgiBSJLnN2f9DA_N1W0cSSKJB4GY_VerHT6HjIwOsnssLdN1qKG6w-1i60BCF9k/s1600/688b85c862db0c9a104e2747462f4195.jpg" imageanchor="1" ><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgwtAe-D2bnda05_8Ak-q3TCXlk14aKkxlYZQUSz8RNXqOanOaU8GFaQTfM-7g_vpZ1msSUJ3jtPSgiBSJLnN2f9DA_N1W0cSSKJB4GY_VerHT6HjIwOsnssLdN1qKG6w-1i60BCF9k/s640/688b85c862db0c9a104e2747462f4195.jpg" /></a><br />
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Coming down from the preacher's stand now.<br />
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Anyway, back to the tale I am telling. Thursday comes and we do the EKG. Addy does awesome. She was pretty nervous, but I let her bring her "special sheep," we talked about what was going to happen, she held my hand, and she was a champ. The unknown can be hard for her, so I was super proud she did so well. The doctor came in, and he said he thought everything looked totally normal.<br />
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May I repeat myself? He thought her little heart pattern looked completely normal. Can I get a hallelujah? <br />
<br />
How about another one for good measure? Hallelujah! <br />
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The doctor did want to send the EKG to the pediatric cardiologist in Salt Lake to get a second opinion, but he thought it looked just fine. Good enough for me. <br />
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I was sooooooooo relieved. Since we had the exact same heartbeat pattern going on with the two kids and since LQTS is genetic, I feel comfortable that most likely that's not what's going on with the baby. Of course, we'll still do tests once the baby is born, but for now I feel like there is a huge weight lifted off of my shoulders.<br />
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Another plus: I had an appetite again, and suddenly I was quite hungry. And since I'm "eating for two" and all, I have complete justification in stuffing my face. Right? (*cricket, cricket, chirp*) Right? Well, maybe I stuffed my face anyway. Don't judge.<br />
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Friday came and we did monitoring again. For the first 20 minutes, the baby's heart rate was in the normal range of 130-160. Odd. It was the first time it's been normal (with the exception of when I was running a fever) since week 32.. five weeks ago. So I wasn't quite sure what to think of it. The doctor wanted to keep me on the monitor, because she was sure it would return to the baby's "normal" low baseline. Sure enough, after 20 minutes it dropped back down to the 90s and stayed there for the next 45 minutes. <br />
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They took me off and I had an appointment with my doctor where we discussed when to deliver this baby. I explained about my doubts of the baby having Low-QT Syndrome since Addy's testing had come back normal (confirmed by Primary Children's earlier that morning), and she agreed. We decided that either Friday the 15th or Monday the 18th would be a time that both of us felt comfortable having this baby delivered. I spoke with the hubs, and we decided on Monday the 18th. So officially (for now at least) we'll be having this baby in just under one week! And, according to the 3D ultrasounds, this baby is super duper cute... so everyone be excited for that :)<br />
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If anything changes, I'll write another update, but hopefully next time I'm updating our little blog will be bombarding it with adorable little baby pictures of our new little one! <br />
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And I wanted to add that I don't write these updates to gain sympathy or something. I know a lot of times people will tell me of their sympathies, and I appreciate everyone's concern, but I don't want anyone to feel bad or sorry or anything. I'm glad for experiences that make me grow, help me realize what's important, and help me to have a softer, more compassionate heart. I'm so thankful though for all of the encouragement that I receive from so many people. So thank you.<br />
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Stepping off the soapbox, once again. <br />
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Thanks for reading.Sheila Fishhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02652464751800558347noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8165189668224619198.post-45689576275378940492013-11-04T21:26:00.000-08:002013-11-04T21:26:13.100-08:00The update that really doesn't explain anythingSo it's been about two weeks since my last preggo update.. in terms of me blogging, that's actually pretty good. In terms of updating family and friends, well, you have my apologies for taking so darned long.<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgWJ5AW3dBfdOnVjsARltttxjxKY9eoihT1DpnrD9t9zhZ5LUQhFllrw8UV4_xCpAH8OKFa_SjaeehSAFYAF7bRN5FFDNoYLW5d_JQZYX1GpGD53lqnkk51mEkxj0EhW-6rVIhYcvKy/s1600/IMG_20131025_102012_667.jpg" imageanchor="1" ><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgWJ5AW3dBfdOnVjsARltttxjxKY9eoihT1DpnrD9t9zhZ5LUQhFllrw8UV4_xCpAH8OKFa_SjaeehSAFYAF7bRN5FFDNoYLW5d_JQZYX1GpGD53lqnkk51mEkxj0EhW-6rVIhYcvKy/s640/IMG_20131025_102012_667.jpg" /></a><br />
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It's been a busy couple of weeks. First off, the flu hit our family, which I thought was truly unfortunate. The kids both had it, then I got sick, and then Jackson was sick. No fun! I guess the upside to having the flu (if that's not a huge oxymoron) was that I was a SUPER good bed rest patient while being sick. I literally had zero energy, so that was a convenient cure for my restlessness. The other interesting thing was that during the days that I was sick, the baby's heart rate was actually up in a low-normal to normal range! So I was thinking that maybe all of my mandated resting was doing some good... until my fever broke and baby's heart rate went back to its "normal" aka low range. Odd? For sure.<br />
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Anyway, after being sick I had to get back into our normal(ish) routine of getting kids to school, Addy's therapies, feeding the small people, and general maintenance of la casa. Since the baby has been consistent and stable, they let me go in for monitoring every other day and put me on "modified bed rest," which gave me tons more freedom (including being able to drive.. yay!) I just have to be careful about how much time I'm standing/walking, no lifting over 10 lbs, and certain household chores are now off limits (and delegated to the five-year-old :) .............................................. <br />
Oh, hush, I'm only joking. Sort of. She's a good vacuumer.)<br />
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Anyway, last week the doctors have been talking to me about when we're going to deliver this baby. My delivering doctor said our goal was 37 weeks (when the baby is considered "full term"), and started giving me potential dates. At that time I was at 35 weeks, and there's a chance I started panicking un poquito. <br />
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37 weeks was only TWO weeks away....and what did I have ready for this child? Well, I had bought a car seat. Check. Annnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnd that's it. <br />
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Our "baby room" was a quasi storage slash disaster room, and I certainly didn't have the foggiest idea about what, if any, clothes we would have for this little one. Diapers? Negative. Potential names picked out? Not a chance. What else is there again? I mean, this isn't my first baby, but, heck, the last one was 3 1/2 years ago. With this "pregnancy brain" I've got goin' on I can hardly remember what I made for dinner last night...much less what's good to have around for a newborn! <br />
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So I talked to the doc quite a bit about the difference for the baby developmentally in that 37/38 week time frame, the risks of waiting an extra week and delivering at 38 weeks instead (which he said he would do, but didn't think we should wait any later), and a bunch of things that were interesting to me but probably not so much to everyone else. <br />
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And then I went on a shopping spree.<br />
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A practical shopping spree... which is less fun, but more, well, practical.<br />
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And in the meantime I decided that if the babe was still looking good, I definitely wanted to wait until 38 weeks. This was due to wanting to give the baby more time to develop in utero. In that 37th week there are important neurological connections made and developments with the digestive and immune systems. These are important factors for me to consider, especially because this baby is at a greater risk for an autism spectrum disorder. (All of my children are just due to the fact that (1) I already have a child who was diagnosed, and (2) I have a gene mutation that can be passed down to my children predisposing them to a number of things -- including autism.) The digestive and immune systems are really key factors to kids with ASD, and so I wanted to give as much time as possible for the development of those two areas. <br />
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Then Friday I changed my mind.<br />
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It was in the afternoon, and I was just at the house doing house stuff when all of the sudden I had a very distinct thought that I hadn't felt the baby move in quite a while. It was a super strong feeling and kinda freaked me out a little bit. I decided to drink my ice-cold juice and lay down and do a kick count (something I'm really becoming a pro at). So I laid down and for 15 minutes I waited.... and felt nothing. This was pretty unusual, because when I do the kick count it's always only taken about 10 minutes or so to get all the movements in. Soooo... trying not to completely freak out I waited... and waited.. after 15 minutes I felt a movement, and FINALLY after 1 hour and 10 minutes I got all of the movements counted. It took a verrrrrrry long time. <br />
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I qualified that as definite decrease in fetal movement and called my doctor. They said to come in and do a non-stress test, so I packed up the girls and off we went to the baby doctor. Again.<br />
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Long story short (TOO LATE), Thursday's baseline heart rate was around 110-115 when I went in for my normal monitoring. Friday's baseline was 95. Quite a difference. We still had good variations, so the doc felt comfortable doing monitoring every day again and to "take it easy" until my appointment on Monday (today). <br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEivTBGpUk3xQ-2686T04xx7BE3UqtUdM2YhXJMs4t40wYlnWR8yiUqfacCJKIGlhPMn_NCwKohxZntX2x3M7jroeugHkkQddBfqcYhqbYThEAzc_z52qqWE5tlh83tSMOJqUO_rln5O/s1600/IMG_20131025_084259_325.jpg" imageanchor="1" ><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEivTBGpUk3xQ-2686T04xx7BE3UqtUdM2YhXJMs4t40wYlnWR8yiUqfacCJKIGlhPMn_NCwKohxZntX2x3M7jroeugHkkQddBfqcYhqbYThEAzc_z52qqWE5tlh83tSMOJqUO_rln5O/s640/IMG_20131025_084259_325.jpg" /></a><br />
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So the last couple of days of monitoring has shown the heart rate to steadily be in the 90s/low 100s, dropping down to the 80s, and increasing up to the 130s (and once up to 143). It's a change.<br />
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And now I'm thinking this baby should be born at 37 weeks. <br />
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We've still got two different opinions from two different doctors (one thinks we should take the baby at 37 weeks and the other thinks we should wait until 39), but I've really started feeling uneasy about waiting too much longer for this baby's birth day. Obviously, I've been praying lots and lots for this child, and I am a firm believer in going with what feels like the right thing to do. So even though philosophically I tend to agree with the doctor who thinks we should wait until 39 weeks for maximum development in utero, I feel like the right thing is to deliver at 37 weeks when this babe is officially considered full-term.<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh-2HVGUbBIpvX9YSeaK4CG0-K_F_IJxVNV33OARSZfE5aso-5TWjKYmMFJdiEVhLXFWBjOgp87dPxVcRqdTeS7Yxkm4aRb-2HwYb2SJGf5Hdgouposk07oCUuEqtAtDJ0V6GOU1OM4/s1600/image.png" imageanchor="1" ><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh-2HVGUbBIpvX9YSeaK4CG0-K_F_IJxVNV33OARSZfE5aso-5TWjKYmMFJdiEVhLXFWBjOgp87dPxVcRqdTeS7Yxkm4aRb-2HwYb2SJGf5Hdgouposk07oCUuEqtAtDJ0V6GOU1OM4/s640/image.png" /></a><br />
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So that's where we're at. I am officially at 36 weeks, so this means that sometime within the next week/week and a half we will have a new addition to the fam! <br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj7cAK1pRw5aXxHNzYWKxqM3PedmKoh_lZWCnvSzqbtntpdjOgtcuXgXkPjtOfBHtF8VG2yLi_m1KJfjqSV6cSgW8daA4LX0Y36P_dJdrEJYUM0LJi2FbRGLcfTgIXxih0dAcoaz5cP/s1600/9c65c00bae6151843e9c2152fd59e921.jpg" imageanchor="1" ><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj7cAK1pRw5aXxHNzYWKxqM3PedmKoh_lZWCnvSzqbtntpdjOgtcuXgXkPjtOfBHtF8VG2yLi_m1KJfjqSV6cSgW8daA4LX0Y36P_dJdrEJYUM0LJi2FbRGLcfTgIXxih0dAcoaz5cP/s640/9c65c00bae6151843e9c2152fd59e921.jpg" /></a><br />
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The girls are super excited. Brylee keeps saying that the baby's "so cute," and Addy keeps listening to what the baby is "saying" to her. She'll tell me if the baby is hungry and gets really excited when the baby is kicking me. It's cute :) Addy is convinced we're having a little girl, and she's told me multiple times that she "doesn't like boys and only wants a girl baby." Brylee changes her mind about every time I ask her. Sometimes she wants a baby brother and other times she wants a baby girl. <br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi2NpKq3Gr610GKNmlVhwI672OAV38hHJCxTrZH967AQzGpcr_wl7K1GMtkprkJvHSQOGKhfx6ZWvFG0RLKhUbKxOLNH68IjBuoYuqr6FeTFxoRAxs3QC82x9RrkMS7SU_J7EVeOPzm/s1600/DSC_0004.JPG" imageanchor="1" ><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi2NpKq3Gr610GKNmlVhwI672OAV38hHJCxTrZH967AQzGpcr_wl7K1GMtkprkJvHSQOGKhfx6ZWvFG0RLKhUbKxOLNH68IjBuoYuqr6FeTFxoRAxs3QC82x9RrkMS7SU_J7EVeOPzm/s640/DSC_0004.JPG" /></a><br />
There's our little Princess Cinderella and Princess Sleeping Beauty for Halloween. <br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiIJ4iKGwBSjBcVeU32nYby0a_w09xErpI5uZO3NC44fyIubp7_9wbNmOxs5fD6WypXkCvecLI7tHCdDETr_t2GhPEcO37cay3qNUF2xf2bBgk5TLiGIZ5N-weYvCs_V6URjBlciaA0/s1600/IMG_20130910_160215_249.jpg" imageanchor="1" ><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiIJ4iKGwBSjBcVeU32nYby0a_w09xErpI5uZO3NC44fyIubp7_9wbNmOxs5fD6WypXkCvecLI7tHCdDETr_t2GhPEcO37cay3qNUF2xf2bBgk5TLiGIZ5N-weYvCs_V6URjBlciaA0/s640/IMG_20130910_160215_249.jpg" /></a><br />
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The best of friends. The little sweethearts are more than I deserve for sure.<br />
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Oh, and the title of this post is regarding the fact that nobody has any idea why the baby's heart rate is so low. All of the tests they've run have not provided any answers. So it's quite the mystery.<br />
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<i>"Gus, don't be the Mystery Mousketool."</i><br />
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Anyway, I appreciate all the support we've received from everyone. You rock. Thanks for reading.Sheila Fishhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02652464751800558347noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8165189668224619198.post-50258826401420633212013-10-17T20:49:00.001-07:002013-10-17T20:49:31.848-07:00FREEDOM!!!!... ish.....Let me 'splain. <br />
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No. There is too much. Let me sum up. <br />
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The last post I wrote we were chatting about the deja-vu experience with baby #3's heart rate and how it had dropped somewhat drastically. Then we took a little trip down memory lane slash the current lane we are on. Ahhhh nostalgia. <br />
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Well, that was Monday. Now it is Thursday, and so I'm writing a little update. (I figure this is easier, since I can't keep track of who I've talked to, what I've said and to who (whom?) I've said it to, and, well, my memory these days is not really top notch.)<br />
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Sooooo.. here's the update: On Tuesday I went back in for round two of the steroid shot that helps with the baby's lung development and a non-stress test (NST) at the doctor's office. The highlight of that visit was that the steroid shot didn't hurt nearly as bad as the first one!! -- I was practicing my deep breathing techniques :) -- and that the baby's heart was still having a lot of variance. The other big positive was that the baby was moving around a lot. The bad news was that the baseline was still really low -- slightly lower than Monday's. During the 20-minute test, the heart hung out a lot in the 90s/100s, dropped as low as the high 80s, but then accelerated as high as 134. <br />
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The doctor was not happy with those numbers, so he then told me to "not pass go" and to head over to the high risk doctor, who will hereafter be called Dr. B -- mostly because her last name I can never remember and it's really long and I don't have any idea how to spell it, and we all know how important spelling and grammar is! (Wow, run-on sentence anyone?) So I went and had an ultrasound and appointment with Dr. B. Just like the ultrasound on Monday, everything looked great with the baby, but the heart rate was still low, and so Dr. B sent me over to labor and delivery to be monitored until Thursday.<br />
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So for the last day and a half I've been tied (literally) up to this machine that measures the baby's heart rate and my non-existent contractions. Aaaaaannnnnnnnnnd it has not been as relaxing as one would think! Anyone who knows me knows that I don't do very well just.... sitting... my mind was going crazy, my legs were going crazy, my body was not very happy, and, well, let's just say I was praying this would be a short-term "vacation." Overall, the heart rate stayed pretty well the same, 100ish baseline with decelerations into the 90s and accelerations up to the 140s.<br />
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-- I'm going to take a little break from this update for a minute just to say I am truly amazed at modern medicine and the technological advances that we are fortunate enough to have to help us understand the human body. It is a miraculous thing. It's also truly inspiring to be surrounded by such kind people. I had such sweet nurses who went the extra mile just to chat with me and keep me company, and I have such a great support system in the form of family and friends. I really, really appreciated the visits, phone calls, text messages, Facebook messages, etc. everyone has given. So thank you!! (wipes tear.)<br />
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I actually slept several hours last night and woke up this morning feeling much less anxiety. Dr. B ordered another ultrasound this morning and then she said she'd come and talk with me after speaking to the pediatric cardiologist in Salt Lake. She came back around 11:00 and laid out my options for me: 1. Inpatient monitoring. (no, thanks, if I can avoid it!) 2. I could go home, be on bedrest, and come in for monitoring/appointments every day. I chose option 2. Surprised? I thought not. So I was sprung from jail and granted my freedom until at least 9:00 a.m. tomorrow morning.<br />
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So now..... where do we go from here? The plan right now is I'll just go in for monitoring every day and an ultrasound about every other day. If everything stays the same, I have a decent chance of being able to make it several more weeks and hopefully full-term (fingers crossed!) I'll be 34 weeks tomorrow, so only six weeks to go! If the heart rate drops, she'll send me down to Salt Lake or they may decide it's best to take the baby. Hopefully in the next few days we'll be able to have some test results back to see whether this is a problem with the baby's heart or if it's a problem with my body producing antibodies that are not compatible with the baby. <br />
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Either way, I'm still feeling positive about everything, and I feel that we're in good hands. Maybe it's not ideal, but it could be a whole lot worse, and I know that things will work out for the best.<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi_2zoh0zqmccdgrWar3_PWbP1PseQYWTtqh0XzHyVLI-_W13_m4J-Tx6A0ZDlnIXTbECsRo2Xmkq8vHL5R7FCx6AyPNLSx1eoWZ_LZ7-yyr8ntXGW2tGpNr_FOMUJojihDH7x7RRU9/s1600/faith2.jpg" imageanchor="1" ><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi_2zoh0zqmccdgrWar3_PWbP1PseQYWTtqh0XzHyVLI-_W13_m4J-Tx6A0ZDlnIXTbECsRo2Xmkq8vHL5R7FCx6AyPNLSx1eoWZ_LZ7-yyr8ntXGW2tGpNr_FOMUJojihDH7x7RRU9/s400/faith2.jpg" /></a><br />
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Oh, and if anyone needs a chat or wants to watch a movie or practice coloring skills or learn to crochet or do anything that can be accomplished while on bed rest, I am the lady to come visit!! I am suddenly finding myself with all kinds of time to do activities that don't involve standing, walking around, or driving :)<br />
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Thanks for reading.Sheila Fishhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02652464751800558347noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8165189668224619198.post-13885629538379229102013-10-15T00:38:00.000-07:002013-10-15T00:38:44.930-07:00So here's the thing...So there's been not much activity on this blog as of late. Or ever. Let's face it.<br />
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One primary reason why:<br />
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjX5_d86DsBjB8fn8_konowwLx8pzm2VdCDWo172j7FBw5HstWBF97RmMedqBX7A5SsxEU1LLH9rNXH83vnOqqqw1bCFL_EmD0CyQw6REKKRsJOEpotwRm9h0LkNmU-OCGwDh86nfPd/s1600/DSC_0031-2+(1).jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjX5_d86DsBjB8fn8_konowwLx8pzm2VdCDWo172j7FBw5HstWBF97RmMedqBX7A5SsxEU1LLH9rNXH83vnOqqqw1bCFL_EmD0CyQw6REKKRsJOEpotwRm9h0LkNmU-OCGwDh86nfPd/s320/DSC_0031-2+(1).jpg" /></a></div><br />
In July we announced a new little baby would be joining our family of three girls plus a daddy. <br />
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(Sidenote: We're not finding out the gender of the baby, so, no, you didn't miss some grand party slash announcement. Everyone seems to think they just weren't invited or something!) <br />
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This pregnancy has been busy. My sweet hubby has been out of town quite a bit leaving me flying solo to play with and feed the little people at my house. <br />
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And since, you know, pregnant women have been known to have oodles and oodles of energy (and patience) all the time, sometimes it's been a bit of a challenge keeping up with the two yahoos. Consequently, things like writing have fallen (intentionally) by the wayside.<br />
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Let's just say I may or may not have taken my fair share of naps over the past 7 1/2 months.<br />
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But tonight I'm feeling a little worried. Stressed. So I decided to write the thoughts of my head. And then I will be less worried and/or stressed. You shall see. Or really I will.<br />
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You see, at my 33 week appointment this morning we had a slight mishap. Baby's heart rate had dropped. Sort of significantly. You know it's not a terrific sign when the doctor has to double check and make sure it's not YOUR pulse that he's hearing. (Though I'm thinking that would be a cause for concern as well if my heart rate had jumped up 40 beats a minute.)<br />
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So into the other room I went for a non-stress test. The NST showed a heart rate baseline of around 100 beats a minute. Doctors like to see the baseline anywhere from 120s to 160s, so nobody was an overly happy camper. And, as a result, I am shuffled off to the ultrasound room to do a biophysical profile of the baby and see how he/she is doing.<br />
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Baby's movement is fantastic, and 95% of the ultrasound is focused on the heart. The tech can't quite make up her mind about whether or not the heart is at a 1/1 ratio or a 2/1 ratio or something, but tells me not to worry, she's sure everything's fine.<br />
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(And is it just me or does it seem like doctors and nurses always say things like that? Or my favorite: "This shot's not going to hurt. It'll just be a bit of pressure. BULL. Maybe they're taught that in school. Someone who is enlightened, please inform me.) <br />
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ANYWAY... As much as I know about hearts (*cough* almost nothing *cough*), I'm not positive what all of this means. But I do know that this is the exact same scenario that happened to Addy 5..ish.. years ago. The only difference here is that it is happening two weeks earlier with baby #3 than it did with her.<br />
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So long story short (TOO LATE!), we're doing another non-stress test tomorrow, and I'm meeting with the high risk baby doctor in a few days to see what she recommends. Oh, AND they gave me a lovely steroid shot to help develop the baby's lungs. (And, okay, can I just go on a little rant here and say that shot HURTS like... well, like something... that hurts a whole heck of a lot? Sheesh! I'm limping out of the office like an oldish lady and I could hardly drive home!) The shot goes in your "hip" (*ahem* it's really just in your butt, but I think they want you to feel a bit more dignified), and I go in for round two tomorrow. Looking forward to it. Ish. Also I think the non-stress test is stressful. Ironic.<br />
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So I've been doing some thinking. And pondering. And praying. And more thinking. And pondering. And, well, you get the idea... and I've come to a conclusion: IT WILL BE ALL RIGHT. I've been reflecting on the road that Addy has been on and what an amazing little girl she is growing up to be. And the amount of progress she's made in just the last year alone is truly astounding. So even if baby #3 is headed down the same path, it will be all right.<br />
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiyyu0nLMvVtVfJ49OAzqXt9u6Yh3DXUApp6TIHXOSS8xbew8sQBKB0ubAe0Ddl3_4TDEVraQh6utMiXLIoEt5wgr-6bilc62LbfxPZELyGcrnjT58EsFQUrL32MBqZq1miepcg8YWa/s1600/DSC_0347.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiyyu0nLMvVtVfJ49OAzqXt9u6Yh3DXUApp6TIHXOSS8xbew8sQBKB0ubAe0Ddl3_4TDEVraQh6utMiXLIoEt5wgr-6bilc62LbfxPZELyGcrnjT58EsFQUrL32MBqZq1miepcg8YWa/s320/DSC_0347.JPG" /></a></div><br />
(And, okay, I'm not playing favorites here. Little Bry is the cutest thing you've ever seen in your life and has all the spunk a three-year-old can handle, but I'm writing about my sweetheart Addy since the situation is a bit like deja-vu for me.)<br />
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgS5_W71GbtliWNNmr4YSj_k1mqSG6tMyHNdqMA8u-JHEKIbvWiyqDZ94gQJjaGaL3iIkNi-6hGcal3e0Kwhiua9elOFqZ109gaPWN6p8T_aSFxe8Az12ibxW2ap9FhyphenhyphenaGFimsYNOaR/s1600/DSC_0333.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgS5_W71GbtliWNNmr4YSj_k1mqSG6tMyHNdqMA8u-JHEKIbvWiyqDZ94gQJjaGaL3iIkNi-6hGcal3e0Kwhiua9elOFqZ109gaPWN6p8T_aSFxe8Az12ibxW2ap9FhyphenhyphenaGFimsYNOaR/s320/DSC_0333.JPG" /></a></div><br />
We haven't gotten to where we are without some challenges. Addy had a big drop in her heart rate around 34/35 weeks, and the doctors ended up delivering her five weeks early. She spent some time in the lovely NICU facility in town, and came home with us after a bit of time practicing eating, learning how to breathe, etc. <br />
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj5pgILlLiZm9Mzp4cs12l30rvvEOCGol1Wtt7jBjYnAZVP6Tqf2Fwvtkmio-MSXQEW3BWPRPPRW0j53KsGJTvjFkwpH3I5NNlPODkVMy-OUqGkKqRbRHn3dle00SjYUUufiYLvJkx4/s1600/257_17750170591_3512_n.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj5pgILlLiZm9Mzp4cs12l30rvvEOCGol1Wtt7jBjYnAZVP6Tqf2Fwvtkmio-MSXQEW3BWPRPPRW0j53KsGJTvjFkwpH3I5NNlPODkVMy-OUqGkKqRbRHn3dle00SjYUUufiYLvJkx4/s320/257_17750170591_3512_n.jpg" /></a></div><br />
As she grew, she didn't hit milestones on time, never slept well, and just generally had a harder time learning skills and appropriate behaviors. Not always a picnic. <br />
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh-m0qLanUST2RcUNnJLCm0FYDElbNvbzoqHDrzPG1uQpMw-urNew6u-_p4eqteBTq4OrVOZ5-1-mBxGGlLWomkRm2r_N-n9xL342atDiFSZcU7xdTP7GQ34yEReTKl_QbBj7DC4Ice/s1600/dsc_5203(rev+0).jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh-m0qLanUST2RcUNnJLCm0FYDElbNvbzoqHDrzPG1uQpMw-urNew6u-_p4eqteBTq4OrVOZ5-1-mBxGGlLWomkRm2r_N-n9xL342atDiFSZcU7xdTP7GQ34yEReTKl_QbBj7DC4Ice/s320/dsc_5203(rev+0).jpg" /></a></div><br />
BUT I know that things will be all right...not only for her but for baby #3 as well.<br />
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And I'm not saying that the delays, the autism diagnosis, the difficulties came because she was an early baby or because she had problems in utero. Maybe they did; maybe they didn't.<br />
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhG6sqJqRlMI9vQ5BpppMna6A4thWMX6MmSB2tRKo3FMqU5YIk8lE5ER7DKoxuGGOlI_C0Dq0Yxoj0gAF6mp3RNf-iWI8DhW8c_KNSbYGdi7w5Tru1VGZEtC4_YdYjs3CnnuNW8_DR8/s1600/272_17750605591_2050_n(rev+0).jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhG6sqJqRlMI9vQ5BpppMna6A4thWMX6MmSB2tRKo3FMqU5YIk8lE5ER7DKoxuGGOlI_C0Dq0Yxoj0gAF6mp3RNf-iWI8DhW8c_KNSbYGdi7w5Tru1VGZEtC4_YdYjs3CnnuNW8_DR8/s320/272_17750605591_2050_n(rev+0).jpg" /></a></div><br />
The honest truth is I don't care. What happened happened, and there's no point in me wishing for a different outcome. <br />
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiIQGNJF-pmmLkJH4vMnlayW4kZayN6LxyJsV_k7kvr83gKZEYpqasadIXU7Xf9AFzz1jX2BvE69yhyQd0CuSRKGf6KtX_PrXxiB-qspKnEtnMnfuzFuWXstKNShT92aCRZawlFbCcO/s1600/a4f8a6664d5cbb825a28fbc38dcd4525.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiIQGNJF-pmmLkJH4vMnlayW4kZayN6LxyJsV_k7kvr83gKZEYpqasadIXU7Xf9AFzz1jX2BvE69yhyQd0CuSRKGf6KtX_PrXxiB-qspKnEtnMnfuzFuWXstKNShT92aCRZawlFbCcO/s320/a4f8a6664d5cbb825a28fbc38dcd4525.jpg" /></a></div><br />
I'm also not saying that this new baby will follow the same route as his/her sister. Heck, we may even go full term! But even if things turned out exactly the same, I know it will still be all right.<br />
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Now, has my eldest child had a harder time with things than my soon-to-be middle child? She sure has. <br />
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Has she had to work harder than other kids her age? You betcha. <br />
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgD2_tgnvLb_ucW7Z5BJsedcPgiW4t2XVtSXTFUkYBwzZ5QCL8_SO-ldm0MhcSSPg_yIQRbz8a7S8_1RmhOl3pqzr-wMN60ZEVHwRxbAI5cBhtA90VdUUBFa-wBRaxKoOquHOSgjOlQ/s1600/DSC_0060.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgD2_tgnvLb_ucW7Z5BJsedcPgiW4t2XVtSXTFUkYBwzZ5QCL8_SO-ldm0MhcSSPg_yIQRbz8a7S8_1RmhOl3pqzr-wMN60ZEVHwRxbAI5cBhtA90VdUUBFa-wBRaxKoOquHOSgjOlQ/s320/DSC_0060.JPG" /></a></div><br />
Have I had to work harder to do my part in getting her where she's at? Definitely. <br />
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Would I trade it for anything? Nope. <br />
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I've learned more in my experience being this brilliant and beautiful kid's mom than I think in the rest of my life combined. It's been so, so tough at times, but so incredibly worth it.<br />
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjFjV6VxfWXHP5jZ9_TFAsRNnmZuqFyg6IYro49en-cmGdRcdmZdmXgH50Jj3BMFmR1zOTJYojrcqr6QcVDrhy11t_x0cLPS2bow_NdUpLHMzAxd0Htyxmr-kxSAnDBI1t95_iLhb8W/s1600/DSC_0163.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjFjV6VxfWXHP5jZ9_TFAsRNnmZuqFyg6IYro49en-cmGdRcdmZdmXgH50Jj3BMFmR1zOTJYojrcqr6QcVDrhy11t_x0cLPS2bow_NdUpLHMzAxd0Htyxmr-kxSAnDBI1t95_iLhb8W/s320/DSC_0163.JPG" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj6PWurC4A-o3HtlXAbqqR_71igh0NrOjJJYbAggWTXTwCTsgGd2mAe663DKExJ3dz6jJt-Aku1mJd_EkXr4JY_DH95Wy7U8lgslprmZWt3eToVfY3YGCYbZSejMTM122d6Vl1WQno8/s1600/DSC_0357.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj6PWurC4A-o3HtlXAbqqR_71igh0NrOjJJYbAggWTXTwCTsgGd2mAe663DKExJ3dz6jJt-Aku1mJd_EkXr4JY_DH95Wy7U8lgslprmZWt3eToVfY3YGCYbZSejMTM122d6Vl1WQno8/s320/DSC_0357.JPG" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEig6ZDlj6Hc_g-DhkTcbX6UPpKUOTxbQGD8eTM_j7gKveTbGvIXX4i_g0aEY1iz8ggbQrkV8LRKQf9jl6A7IzNL1c2T777TGER28NwTvfWYE1YwKj09fbUFCLW9UIoy0VnWwbhK_KgH/s1600/DSC_0030+(2).JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEig6ZDlj6Hc_g-DhkTcbX6UPpKUOTxbQGD8eTM_j7gKveTbGvIXX4i_g0aEY1iz8ggbQrkV8LRKQf9jl6A7IzNL1c2T777TGER28NwTvfWYE1YwKj09fbUFCLW9UIoy0VnWwbhK_KgH/s320/DSC_0030+(2).JPG" /></a></div><br />
Our days are filled with therapies, special foods, vitamins, supplements, school, and squeezing in time for play. The days are busy and a lot of work, but I'd do it all over again in a heartbeat. These beautiful children are worth it. And who knows? Maybe we'll get the opportunity to take the path less traveled all over again. <br />
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj4wkl0DQVhknQFJR0if2hXOFcC_mzNcBIuCHCn5c2fliNcN9EbevOcWO2OZ1GrYPXer0SUjatx6BR-pAg_11HZcoYtWaqataBSQ5wHvMZeuGOe3cyxA_LSvjSiAaOxsnP5kcHKbgAl/s1600/ac0be457e6f3b4bb27bc996073ffe185.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj4wkl0DQVhknQFJR0if2hXOFcC_mzNcBIuCHCn5c2fliNcN9EbevOcWO2OZ1GrYPXer0SUjatx6BR-pAg_11HZcoYtWaqataBSQ5wHvMZeuGOe3cyxA_LSvjSiAaOxsnP5kcHKbgAl/s320/ac0be457e6f3b4bb27bc996073ffe185.jpg" /></a></div><br />
In the meantime, I will continue to be grateful and cherish the two princesses I have been given and continue to pray for and love the unborn miracle coming to our family (hopefully later than sooner).<br />
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Thanks for reading.Sheila Fishhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02652464751800558347noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8165189668224619198.post-15695641591397947622013-01-02T19:53:00.000-08:002013-01-02T20:08:36.104-08:002012 in reviewI DO have about 14 blog posts half written. Are they finished? No! Am I publishing them? No! Maybe someday! Am I sitting down making unkept or maybe kept resolutions for the new year? No!<br />
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Instead humor me, if you will, as I lead you through our 2012 year in mostly chronological order with the super awesome (and some not so awesome) pictures to remind myself what we did this past year. Just keepin' it real here, folks.<br />
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhaql5HAsVyxXOCdeXo-kXXXn393DOzskvXgOevC4O79xgjosEbh00cz_XRx48gEuA5UlhGJ9NXAKdgrmK_xpTdNo8gcHBmyuDuAylBFEMIW4hLe69pBk-rZMCtQGagHfUaC4Mzl24I/s1600/2011-12-27_20-16-56_500.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="180" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhaql5HAsVyxXOCdeXo-kXXXn393DOzskvXgOevC4O79xgjosEbh00cz_XRx48gEuA5UlhGJ9NXAKdgrmK_xpTdNo8gcHBmyuDuAylBFEMIW4hLe69pBk-rZMCtQGagHfUaC4Mzl24I/s320/2011-12-27_20-16-56_500.jpg" width="320" /></a></div><br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjceB6lpAauv_qDp9UarTQ1RTnAumSFEwq2Sd6AsJVNVCCevdXP8Lz078s8wpnHKVr19us96ER1fWdM_6A7GC4l3esLTqjvdgO1s4dBdamPN3EEpP8R-nDUDtSnwc5JmNusqGksbfoZ/s1600/2011-12-28_07-04-17_495.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="180" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjceB6lpAauv_qDp9UarTQ1RTnAumSFEwq2Sd6AsJVNVCCevdXP8Lz078s8wpnHKVr19us96ER1fWdM_6A7GC4l3esLTqjvdgO1s4dBdamPN3EEpP8R-nDUDtSnwc5JmNusqGksbfoZ/s320/2011-12-28_07-04-17_495.jpg" width="320" /></a></div><br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgSM-YUOLuJhCP5bFi0NnnrEFVQEt0VubnmKg8TfqInoz0Rma2ueWXWiFWTWLTZ1HUYSH9IJBNz44nErgEUL7KTX-Q4tpmSZOJPWCUR0pQ18O3gjL5t_b57oJnOdfl-C7Je23PyJ3Rt/s1600/2011-12-28_07-05-46_492.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="180" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgSM-YUOLuJhCP5bFi0NnnrEFVQEt0VubnmKg8TfqInoz0Rma2ueWXWiFWTWLTZ1HUYSH9IJBNz44nErgEUL7KTX-Q4tpmSZOJPWCUR0pQ18O3gjL5t_b57oJnOdfl-C7Je23PyJ3Rt/s320/2011-12-28_07-05-46_492.jpg" width="320" /></a></div><br />
My littlest brother left for a mission. Okay. Okay. TECHNICALLY this was like four days before 2012, but look at what a little cutie he is. Also what a little cutie my niece is. Ahhhhhh. This was back in the day when I was her favorite. Pretty sure. <br />
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj4VhjwCfyBG1AUBMVrQXjWdJwv9uNsztFH0HM81j58zUdevH5NvYbvdHgkPWxIYBPUJpruBP6Ep0oGSbSH0LMDqMJ07M4YbKPytVKNZjo0cMQQ7HX0gIIIA8UfqQJgDouDQbKPZPVq/s1600/P1150005.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj4VhjwCfyBG1AUBMVrQXjWdJwv9uNsztFH0HM81j58zUdevH5NvYbvdHgkPWxIYBPUJpruBP6Ep0oGSbSH0LMDqMJ07M4YbKPytVKNZjo0cMQQ7HX0gIIIA8UfqQJgDouDQbKPZPVq/s320/P1150005.JPG" width="320" /></a></div><br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh9Q_xAaAmWZijsYvUAxxd3C0vvxFfSyzRews3PVRch91ZgXfWKDskMcySLl1zxmGQxqY3fqxHh7aAkHkuLtanRavg1zUKrTWmYPB_jPSsie4MwhX98H1ARmLCd4x5m148aXFyvmI-M/s1600/P1150006.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh9Q_xAaAmWZijsYvUAxxd3C0vvxFfSyzRews3PVRch91ZgXfWKDskMcySLl1zxmGQxqY3fqxHh7aAkHkuLtanRavg1zUKrTWmYPB_jPSsie4MwhX98H1ARmLCd4x5m148aXFyvmI-M/s320/P1150006.JPG" width="320" /></a></div><br />
January, the girls got a bunk bed. What? I can totally hear you. This really IS memorable. Worth recording. <br />
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On that note, the girls' room also got a makeover.<br />
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEimk_m05VzNhAJVjnJUwApddQGURv2yhh7VADxSFIlRoIAFWKg6gD6PeERM66tdCYf-HQsEwoFOabL4E8GemSqYjm4Ffu58LYTt4A_mRC9ECHP7UguQ4AFiMwG3hIh3JmD2CaN_SFNm/s1600/2012-03-22+13.05.46.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEimk_m05VzNhAJVjnJUwApddQGURv2yhh7VADxSFIlRoIAFWKg6gD6PeERM66tdCYf-HQsEwoFOabL4E8GemSqYjm4Ffu58LYTt4A_mRC9ECHP7UguQ4AFiMwG3hIh3JmD2CaN_SFNm/s320/2012-03-22+13.05.46.jpg" width="320" /></a></div><br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgU_fmloOxYWSrkj16890CWggqHUvuHvvVY4EM4LqEiCnT_uDWVg5oU3tfJqDpV1UXc8lV6sVnpmwL_jnLBmVT99Jf7Jdkjl3FU3y4GlP0Snsv3op_jfS-3XIxnfMm2oR4S1PHICRAA/s1600/2012-03-22+13.06.01.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgU_fmloOxYWSrkj16890CWggqHUvuHvvVY4EM4LqEiCnT_uDWVg5oU3tfJqDpV1UXc8lV6sVnpmwL_jnLBmVT99Jf7Jdkjl3FU3y4GlP0Snsv3op_jfS-3XIxnfMm2oR4S1PHICRAA/s320/2012-03-22+13.06.01.jpg" width="320" /></a></div><br />
Chevron? Check. Ridiculously bright colors? Double check. Love it? Check.<br />
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In other news, the girls spent oodles of time at the doctor's office with one or both of them getting sick about every two to three weeks. Super fun late nights? You bet. It either had something to do with starting daycare for the first time or every.single.time.jackson.left.for.work.they'd.get.sick.so.i.could.be.nice.and.stressed.trying.to.figure.out.who.could.cover.my.work.schedule.and.what.to.do. Good times.<br />
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiDQrij1OXsCfS12sad2LoauJhjhZIQhsldPIOVXjxCrLw982UMzUaPQyJhbSlB51Df6N1VtIJtgpjaKHL8abM0wTOTdfpKttAErMc36zPhLZe4x_O1Qi1P_Ybzd8Tqeh5Oxo7O4j2c/s1600/2012-04-01+16.59.37.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiDQrij1OXsCfS12sad2LoauJhjhZIQhsldPIOVXjxCrLw982UMzUaPQyJhbSlB51Df6N1VtIJtgpjaKHL8abM0wTOTdfpKttAErMc36zPhLZe4x_O1Qi1P_Ybzd8Tqeh5Oxo7O4j2c/s320/2012-04-01+16.59.37.jpg" width="320" /></a></div><br />
One of my personal favorites of 2012 was when one of our neighbor kids apparently broke part of our fence and they left this enjoyable note that I still have to giggle about.<br />
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgE6C9h3Y1bQbYRzKjfj6FthvBIkuYTm0sppxRUHxNCiWV-qdJlGNdY1Z_qxNxeRy_94LQxC21vxuLf9OHATtSjE6vDnUl1sIREv6nAobPjji3a31-jfiUaA-Onv2hPnqLYwrvhz-DS/s1600/2011-12-10+16.30.16.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="300" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgE6C9h3Y1bQbYRzKjfj6FthvBIkuYTm0sppxRUHxNCiWV-qdJlGNdY1Z_qxNxeRy_94LQxC21vxuLf9OHATtSjE6vDnUl1sIREv6nAobPjji3a31-jfiUaA-Onv2hPnqLYwrvhz-DS/s400/2011-12-10+16.30.16.jpg" width="400" /></a></div><br />
Who is Steve? We'll never know.<br />
Hopefully you can read it, because it's awesome.<br />
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Addy started dance this year! Cutest little thing ever! She LOVED it, and practiced so much at home that Brylee knew the dance just as well as anyone else in Addy's class :)<br />
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjwPktGD1y28xHbOfDZIlLBXt0R1VMuoAMyMMS-rdlHoTON_pPyQW3jQc7b6arE2sNG5ppVChyphenhyphenD280q-_zke403L7h5PWfDsP1Q6vgLlfpQfV49-mlmpYVBDVvsqri0_K78Xyrqlexw/s1600/2012-01-18+16.05.04.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjwPktGD1y28xHbOfDZIlLBXt0R1VMuoAMyMMS-rdlHoTON_pPyQW3jQc7b6arE2sNG5ppVChyphenhyphenD280q-_zke403L7h5PWfDsP1Q6vgLlfpQfV49-mlmpYVBDVvsqri0_K78Xyrqlexw/s320/2012-01-18+16.05.04.jpg" width="240" /></a></div><br />
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgN45gqp6v9r3VfXlRWregeh4ffTgaGjBEdFBguBf8JytYVF90PaRyfTXdqsWyWWAfq7zuE3kpqp9Wlk-Z-bZHfAYcu_FZ5NJWQ7XUujakFUYIcp9iWWN1CkkWlJ-egPAAhwX02dDqP/s1600/2012-04-21+10.24.40.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="300" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgN45gqp6v9r3VfXlRWregeh4ffTgaGjBEdFBguBf8JytYVF90PaRyfTXdqsWyWWAfq7zuE3kpqp9Wlk-Z-bZHfAYcu_FZ5NJWQ7XUujakFUYIcp9iWWN1CkkWlJ-egPAAhwX02dDqP/s400/2012-04-21+10.24.40.jpg" width="400" /></a></div><br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiZMbjX5CshR7JPghmKrDUOQfhBwSQ0mk8kMJcbctc9MNUz_dKBUU4HY-SPnR8jK-FQZzRPmI1cvEaF12HqXYZpmbU97-6IMiZoaXc6C8nuFXzDxR9sjn4rULlSkdi9F-Js0Fu4OaM8/s1600/2012-03-14+12.04.04.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiZMbjX5CshR7JPghmKrDUOQfhBwSQ0mk8kMJcbctc9MNUz_dKBUU4HY-SPnR8jK-FQZzRPmI1cvEaF12HqXYZpmbU97-6IMiZoaXc6C8nuFXzDxR9sjn4rULlSkdi9F-Js0Fu4OaM8/s320/2012-03-14+12.04.04.jpg" width="320" /></a></div><br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg9i45RKPz_PXLskd5hrydbrdbpBn6GHKaFH0ZTFfnByIvChiGNVQMglwAysmoMLviirZlwIVyIirGuZsqqpC9ssHFC3XcehHJPTQt6SSnJi3JGDHi94TdSr4lIL3N1kU6HUJv8JOdw/s1600/2012-04-27+19.10.18.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="213" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg9i45RKPz_PXLskd5hrydbrdbpBn6GHKaFH0ZTFfnByIvChiGNVQMglwAysmoMLviirZlwIVyIirGuZsqqpC9ssHFC3XcehHJPTQt6SSnJi3JGDHi94TdSr4lIL3N1kU6HUJv8JOdw/s320/2012-04-27+19.10.18.jpg" width="320" /></a></div><br />
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We sang happy birthdays<br />
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh6g2mNiwr1SssAxm_ZRoBXLnj1z-sm5um00sh6xK2P5EthTfm10nQbZb4mGN6YkVQ6qMLIrwgGdqQZORHHibPgizfe4VdZodZsoZSWrVMEiBgsskgxpDdrQdhOAFx_IKgt4BjNXQjw/s1600/DSC_5147.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="213" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh6g2mNiwr1SssAxm_ZRoBXLnj1z-sm5um00sh6xK2P5EthTfm10nQbZb4mGN6YkVQ6qMLIrwgGdqQZORHHibPgizfe4VdZodZsoZSWrVMEiBgsskgxpDdrQdhOAFx_IKgt4BjNXQjw/s320/DSC_5147.JPG" width="320" /></a></div><br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjUT9KCajV3bRJZ3yRJKq4zsvHpZHGqRdJsioYhkXjEeP2p2MjADZwt01gzNwJTRVzQzhyHGMtEh8k9oGMMUbKDa1RDaxQKvBhfu71gpCqDQ0Zc1GYfne6rpxl0O_STWAFv-qw7A2fy/s1600/DSCN1706.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjUT9KCajV3bRJZ3yRJKq4zsvHpZHGqRdJsioYhkXjEeP2p2MjADZwt01gzNwJTRVzQzhyHGMtEh8k9oGMMUbKDa1RDaxQKvBhfu71gpCqDQ0Zc1GYfne6rpxl0O_STWAFv-qw7A2fy/s320/DSCN1706.JPG" width="320" /></a></div><i>(Just FYI, my mom and I have birthdays one day apart. We buy our own ice-cream cake every year to celebrate. It's delicious. This year was Coldstone. Yummy)</i><br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhmA1GxIzVd2LgyDrDVyWsqh5dKF_cgB7CwVz2Tf9x8w19Bi7b8W7P8ZAb8L12ZdESqhaOeU69gxQ8CLUuuRcA-qIYgS-41IAH0yVxELsXTs_Xv24GC4Vt599S_9PGdv8hNT64Qp5fc/s1600/2012-06-19+15.04.00.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhmA1GxIzVd2LgyDrDVyWsqh5dKF_cgB7CwVz2Tf9x8w19Bi7b8W7P8ZAb8L12ZdESqhaOeU69gxQ8CLUuuRcA-qIYgS-41IAH0yVxELsXTs_Xv24GC4Vt599S_9PGdv8hNT64Qp5fc/s320/2012-06-19+15.04.00.jpg" width="320" /></a></div><br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhx29CsiTCwYpCB3ncbgyADISnbTrXH7YJdqBAp8fCEMHhWMLnkG7uNwK11FAXQ2DCRWHUIPnWoQNkh2_zq_oRBuBIKGYKaPWz7-_LdGxeBHGberFO3ee1sWNzoBrtNvj6YRg-ztivq/s1600/P6150030+-+Copy.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhx29CsiTCwYpCB3ncbgyADISnbTrXH7YJdqBAp8fCEMHhWMLnkG7uNwK11FAXQ2DCRWHUIPnWoQNkh2_zq_oRBuBIKGYKaPWz7-_LdGxeBHGberFO3ee1sWNzoBrtNvj6YRg-ztivq/s320/P6150030+-+Copy.JPG" width="320" /></a></div><br />
We played.<br />
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiw46LJtC9NRCKd6ojkFDX6hmtDx3N5QBixifmNEAwFPdrFYwg1AkmwTqgiPl6Dg0lPckXOYvkN2wTBzy_qwjS-F_F25fvvsGDcSJCZDce9xyZG2IQKSQE1z9txSTsVRH2SQTJgiym6/s1600/P6150017+-+Copy.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiw46LJtC9NRCKd6ojkFDX6hmtDx3N5QBixifmNEAwFPdrFYwg1AkmwTqgiPl6Dg0lPckXOYvkN2wTBzy_qwjS-F_F25fvvsGDcSJCZDce9xyZG2IQKSQE1z9txSTsVRH2SQTJgiym6/s320/P6150017+-+Copy.JPG" width="320" /></a></div><br />
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Celebrated holidays and events<br />
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgFMo0OScSizXMpx4MLiFk-byIm6VNRYKNSoIyYx0g30hs_PSOYinkBdjL5SDrd4I5dMl-Oqhh80Y5b3rY7IbAaDU9Hsl4uTBou9n9h0oHTyt-VHNu_vcax6mCdW9avZ85IpANgJnh1/s1600/2012-04-08+12.50.57.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgFMo0OScSizXMpx4MLiFk-byIm6VNRYKNSoIyYx0g30hs_PSOYinkBdjL5SDrd4I5dMl-Oqhh80Y5b3rY7IbAaDU9Hsl4uTBou9n9h0oHTyt-VHNu_vcax6mCdW9avZ85IpANgJnh1/s320/2012-04-08+12.50.57.jpg" width="320" /></a></div><br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEijq97kyNrlWbOabRlsQObOaCLSJVSMzrwd2Li6pDuT130Rb-srdpBDJzTLbYqUI_0-1IaniQj5GreQrSM4tD008mDIRR2_DGHXmqxNWwnAo7-r7xzce1tY460enA5wuQC4_CqBENxl/s1600/DSCN1710.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEijq97kyNrlWbOabRlsQObOaCLSJVSMzrwd2Li6pDuT130Rb-srdpBDJzTLbYqUI_0-1IaniQj5GreQrSM4tD008mDIRR2_DGHXmqxNWwnAo7-r7xzce1tY460enA5wuQC4_CqBENxl/s320/DSCN1710.JPG" width="320" /></a></div><i>Easter</i><br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhAccLKFpgvk5N9GBrvIyfI9vj90WjBr1bCOR3nFKOQwhuxgi5n-gkmq6A8Iz9rpIgzWYTBd3C_X5WpRFavJYrKo1tQ-QwlUDMunu6IALeJ6OLMRjZgAuDlUGEsmLfoQqRJT9kBX_5j/s1600/DSCN1959.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhAccLKFpgvk5N9GBrvIyfI9vj90WjBr1bCOR3nFKOQwhuxgi5n-gkmq6A8Iz9rpIgzWYTBd3C_X5WpRFavJYrKo1tQ-QwlUDMunu6IALeJ6OLMRjZgAuDlUGEsmLfoQqRJT9kBX_5j/s320/DSCN1959.JPG" width="320" /></a></div><i>Annual 4th of July 5K run</i><br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjMg7COyysgnu9ZIFudfTNCLM9UmBEIj9Ar5TY5ZCU_2nIPBmgPbJhErrSH6BcBcMjJLhOxpKsP-kjOLFeXHiml8esNHc_6KDMe6-inpSsSLXjNNruNZVHKc-IALXblL_TAgs6NsjSf/s1600/2012-09-11+07.47.57.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjMg7COyysgnu9ZIFudfTNCLM9UmBEIj9Ar5TY5ZCU_2nIPBmgPbJhErrSH6BcBcMjJLhOxpKsP-kjOLFeXHiml8esNHc_6KDMe6-inpSsSLXjNNruNZVHKc-IALXblL_TAgs6NsjSf/s320/2012-09-11+07.47.57.jpg" width="240" /></a></div><i>Addy's first day of school</i><br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgzLx6gf-49swj-s2hKlPOrh0YwuR1Q-LJYFUbHtRw5UvRLkb73k_5N6XZVIMw6CoYD99lNOtIFCosNv9JL1wiUiu1VmtYW_NzD_NO373F_K_p5oiZ4oNOkFOcfwH7JUgVzXVD2ONzu/s1600/2012-10-31+17.48.33.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgzLx6gf-49swj-s2hKlPOrh0YwuR1Q-LJYFUbHtRw5UvRLkb73k_5N6XZVIMw6CoYD99lNOtIFCosNv9JL1wiUiu1VmtYW_NzD_NO373F_K_p5oiZ4oNOkFOcfwH7JUgVzXVD2ONzu/s320/2012-10-31+17.48.33.jpg" width="320" /></a></div><i>Halloween. <br />
<br />
Rapunzel and a mermaid. I mean, it's super obvious, but, you know.</i><br />
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</a><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEih28Z1vTx8ShOBAOP-TrVeX6Cgfsc9HULm9yUWxPuLiDocm_5GzEHQasIjRjUfTdPCok6iJJDRvDhUugVEne7QZ4p8zDjOZmBdhV-s22ajuOieWl5M-yWorFBK_MbELCx7Sx0T8R40/s1600/2012-12-22+21.35.36.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEih28Z1vTx8ShOBAOP-TrVeX6Cgfsc9HULm9yUWxPuLiDocm_5GzEHQasIjRjUfTdPCok6iJJDRvDhUugVEne7QZ4p8zDjOZmBdhV-s22ajuOieWl5M-yWorFBK_MbELCx7Sx0T8R40/s320/2012-12-22+21.35.36.jpg" width="320" /></a></div><br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj3CvJEVWxTLRvngVgeC0DhC6Z0pzd8bBHPNhFPuqI-sr_9xdgSzWNfxbEYnjBJqypJU5cyzet0d3wMp_lYA4CWvK3zXQTLgOTmax26iyJTi8pxX1D1oo11iFlS0WuIH6jwqLJymfDZ/s1600/DSC_0143.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="213" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj3CvJEVWxTLRvngVgeC0DhC6Z0pzd8bBHPNhFPuqI-sr_9xdgSzWNfxbEYnjBJqypJU5cyzet0d3wMp_lYA4CWvK3zXQTLgOTmax26iyJTi8pxX1D1oo11iFlS0WuIH6jwqLJymfDZ/s320/DSC_0143.JPG" width="320" /></a></div><br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjVWKv_8qC_0XKo77uMFciqD2dA_Rzr6Q_XBmnBhrRnQOaPV1i9IeIcPJW7zX83W__zFhmuWSBoHZLkZsBBnSsCb5MszxQbhpGw0ncdzcfgQPwd8iHP7skdRPEMInYhShsdpDzNHwm8/s1600/DSC_0169.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="267" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjVWKv_8qC_0XKo77uMFciqD2dA_Rzr6Q_XBmnBhrRnQOaPV1i9IeIcPJW7zX83W__zFhmuWSBoHZLkZsBBnSsCb5MszxQbhpGw0ncdzcfgQPwd8iHP7skdRPEMInYhShsdpDzNHwm8/s400/DSC_0169.JPG" width="400" /></a></div><br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgOrgiB-9m56ZlRn4mXkAATjYvFK-WcwVG-JATQmXgz6eAhU69H28ObfrAgAcug-DVbEiM6aWEnNIQ9N0cJJ6T6w4c26ooXDyyETudPYnoiWKUo2MSteeDifm8Q4jEpWnQBGQjl-7GN/s1600/DSC_0206.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="267" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgOrgiB-9m56ZlRn4mXkAATjYvFK-WcwVG-JATQmXgz6eAhU69H28ObfrAgAcug-DVbEiM6aWEnNIQ9N0cJJ6T6w4c26ooXDyyETudPYnoiWKUo2MSteeDifm8Q4jEpWnQBGQjl-7GN/s400/DSC_0206.JPG" width="400" /></a></div><i>Christmas</i><br />
<br />
<br />
We missed Jackson like crazy when he was gone, but we LOVED having him home.<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjRkR6IwRsgRrLgwHJ-BOqQC3yOf-npoz8n-CItLZIMpWAPkFAiCtfnu3KHIGYH6C-C0Hc1v29dpU7ZWmZIjalVDZ71HVVPUhazmGT6QlnMkDIqaYZuvoTaKL-Y4gu3ecVc2Kog-eYw/s1600/DSCN2065.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjRkR6IwRsgRrLgwHJ-BOqQC3yOf-npoz8n-CItLZIMpWAPkFAiCtfnu3KHIGYH6C-C0Hc1v29dpU7ZWmZIjalVDZ71HVVPUhazmGT6QlnMkDIqaYZuvoTaKL-Y4gu3ecVc2Kog-eYw/s400/DSCN2065.JPG" width="300" /></a></div><br />
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjGK3mego35a0Mrnt74yD4oV3JnsZXEqX-HBJpQW4gtk0VOaX5-6xZ2gjAA3GPD-2EgDaYUzgsV7Atx7pvEhLejeCyBt1XLd0Esz6NJIfsj-PiCNh0tBW_ySGyygFNCfSyZl5HNIZ5Z/s1600/DSCN2082.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjGK3mego35a0Mrnt74yD4oV3JnsZXEqX-HBJpQW4gtk0VOaX5-6xZ2gjAA3GPD-2EgDaYUzgsV7Atx7pvEhLejeCyBt1XLd0Esz6NJIfsj-PiCNh0tBW_ySGyygFNCfSyZl5HNIZ5Z/s400/DSCN2082.JPG" width="300" /></a></div><br />
<i>Why, yes, this IS the ridiculously high platform at Lava Hot Springs that Jackson and I are jumping off of. Thanks for noticing. And, yes, it was way fun! If by way fun you mean incredibly terrifying and I screamed like a 5-year-old girl the whole way down, then, yes, it was way fun.</i><br />
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEijs-SyO4-_DfNzzhR2Go0t9mY10Xr3qzUY7utTu3ERzK6vyIV94TlkNXWKkCbjPXo-4Jtd7qh3ChI-pWt0gpJ4oUXeV_-eSP2F01p_VFqegw9c7HYf7WvqziLp5l1il9kIr_lY-6-o/s1600/DSC_0178.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="267" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEijs-SyO4-_DfNzzhR2Go0t9mY10Xr3qzUY7utTu3ERzK6vyIV94TlkNXWKkCbjPXo-4Jtd7qh3ChI-pWt0gpJ4oUXeV_-eSP2F01p_VFqegw9c7HYf7WvqziLp5l1il9kIr_lY-6-o/s400/DSC_0178.JPG" width="400" /></a></div><br />
We even went out to visit Jackson once.<br />
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh0QTJzVGdPT1CCJJnPOhckO43JHnwc1ZOlX0KFQfCsn4opmvaaMGY8IEorWKpYpb_kRjv3cBHiRLhNUR62wB776DhekadajexPxTPY0_qtzDGxJQgkacsDekLojUuPQ0Ty_T-2o5XO/s1600/2012-11-24+13.56.07.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="300" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh0QTJzVGdPT1CCJJnPOhckO43JHnwc1ZOlX0KFQfCsn4opmvaaMGY8IEorWKpYpb_kRjv3cBHiRLhNUR62wB776DhekadajexPxTPY0_qtzDGxJQgkacsDekLojUuPQ0Ty_T-2o5XO/s400/2012-11-24+13.56.07.jpg" width="400" /></a></div><br />
A mere 14-hour drive.<br />
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi0ZraNbMp_xg0kS-n6Fo5ffJzTwHOtcM51tI2FiE_GEk7OeatpvyXWFPUp0TlI0YbCi-pH7BRJTcWgjFFE1sVgqVt2Rrb46JUCzwW7-9xyVF6f8K5_1SL1CFdRSR7RxP0egjYuZhk0/s1600/2012-11-23+08.10.22.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi0ZraNbMp_xg0kS-n6Fo5ffJzTwHOtcM51tI2FiE_GEk7OeatpvyXWFPUp0TlI0YbCi-pH7BRJTcWgjFFE1sVgqVt2Rrb46JUCzwW7-9xyVF6f8K5_1SL1CFdRSR7RxP0egjYuZhk0/s400/2012-11-23+08.10.22.jpg" width="300" /></a></div><br />
Each way.<br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjnsOYqZoupjCTEP3EtKs8ArPU9r7xxn-ObQm5AK14thUA2Y_3iFdBiwtdJLTCU0j9U6leiq2Kt3EVrG9DAp14rGijVEJHSMP7lIdHiPJ4_w-M_u6PRFfDydhcMxvvKb70GgtJCcM8E/s1600/2012-11-23+13.33.00.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjnsOYqZoupjCTEP3EtKs8ArPU9r7xxn-ObQm5AK14thUA2Y_3iFdBiwtdJLTCU0j9U6leiq2Kt3EVrG9DAp14rGijVEJHSMP7lIdHiPJ4_w-M_u6PRFfDydhcMxvvKb70GgtJCcM8E/s400/2012-11-23+13.33.00.jpg" width="300" /></a></div><br />
<br />
I quit my job and became a real-life stay-at-home mom!<br />
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We started doing stay-at-home mom things like visiting the library<br />
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg_v5cggyHZCaXqXfovFbb11kEERs-6poCIlXY3mpUQgapQVgP3hLpAWAJ5ZaZQWGu7N8G1W_R3xvIszMobildNA1XAm8pFiOCdc1qJyLPJEzImiwOfSGimcu0vWbvvrS-zp81BSTRu/s1600/2012-11-06+13.25.46.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="300" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg_v5cggyHZCaXqXfovFbb11kEERs-6poCIlXY3mpUQgapQVgP3hLpAWAJ5ZaZQWGu7N8G1W_R3xvIszMobildNA1XAm8pFiOCdc1qJyLPJEzImiwOfSGimcu0vWbvvrS-zp81BSTRu/s400/2012-11-06+13.25.46.jpg" width="400" /></a></div><i>They have these pretty awesome educational computer games there for kids to play. And those headphones are out of control.</i><br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEisHoFUMhuIVWgYUONnkPVpcmpHOifS91Xzw3GwjXXXzezhZHqNMJzXnUfqqUFYVXqJteREUnccvz78-OY90xijG0sVUS8V7ZxUFUEZfeVS59bIPnM1eYcSOdvO5Fe42K_a7NGVMJa_/s1600/2012-11-06+13.27.15.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="300" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEisHoFUMhuIVWgYUONnkPVpcmpHOifS91Xzw3GwjXXXzezhZHqNMJzXnUfqqUFYVXqJteREUnccvz78-OY90xijG0sVUS8V7ZxUFUEZfeVS59bIPnM1eYcSOdvO5Fe42K_a7NGVMJa_/s400/2012-11-06+13.27.15.jpg" width="400" /></a></div><br />
We went to the zoo.<br />
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiERDROcGw6VJb-Sl4QJTOJ8ZPJiREBO7IA763vWqHWCpqYxhzGrcvkVQx6VNE4Bob0cGk2VdEKU1QHyUi-fjU8LR0jdET6M8V9MYXAhYhlvfqqT5UkLB7WkqCcHJNIhCOww8AOkZgP/s1600/P8090284.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="300" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiERDROcGw6VJb-Sl4QJTOJ8ZPJiREBO7IA763vWqHWCpqYxhzGrcvkVQx6VNE4Bob0cGk2VdEKU1QHyUi-fjU8LR0jdET6M8V9MYXAhYhlvfqqT5UkLB7WkqCcHJNIhCOww8AOkZgP/s400/P8090284.JPG" width="400" /></a></div><br />
I know what you're thinking. Such well behaved little children.<br />
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And then...<br />
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......not even ten minutes later.............<br />
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Classy.<br />
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We moved!<br />
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Sucked up every free minute of summer<br />
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgcTvycO17kjRiq8eb-mw4eAcSdDPxdAjDOebSeB45vfYtFCDk2aO8qtHqHIf7MrJATL8mYvaU_MRHNd5IlM5_WcgwI5h5E4_NpqoPj3AZNmDetn6eTRWdjXz3fDnqs6lLhb9I0O5xY/s1600/P7210097.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="300" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgcTvycO17kjRiq8eb-mw4eAcSdDPxdAjDOebSeB45vfYtFCDk2aO8qtHqHIf7MrJATL8mYvaU_MRHNd5IlM5_WcgwI5h5E4_NpqoPj3AZNmDetn6eTRWdjXz3fDnqs6lLhb9I0O5xY/s400/P7210097.JPG" width="400" /></a></div><i>This little rafting trip thing I remember being so fun and soooooo funny, but for the life of me I can't figure out why. It's also at Lava. Maybe somebody go and inform me what's so hilarious about this ride. </i><br />
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Oh, I love summer. Why don't I marry it? I just might. Oh, I just might. <br />
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We (mostly Jackson) welcomed(ish) fall<br />
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And last, but certainly not least, in the latter part of 2012 we changed our whole style of eating. We <i>merely</i> cut out all gluten, casein, sugar, corn, yeast, and 40-some-odd other foods that we've found out little Addy is intolerant to. It's been <strike>wonderful</strike>. <strike>refreshing</strike>. <strike>delicious</strike>. <strike>healthful</strike>. interesting. The first few months consisted of foods looking like this:<br />
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They're pancakes, by the way. And darn <strike>good</strike> interesting ones too.<br />
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And here I was, just like the mother in this hilarious little clip. Complete with the singing.<br />
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...a pinch of salt, lots of love and lots and lots of tofu...<br />
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<iframe width="560" height="315" src="http://www.youtube.com/embed/fh0NLQJfAYU?rel=0" frameborder="0" allowfullscreen></iframe> <br />
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And this is what I do in my free time these days. My cooking has gotten better though! I'm 47% sure. <br />
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Here are your perfectly normal pancakes, kids!<br />
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Overall, pretty good year, eh? <br />
Now, anyone want to come over for dinner? :)<br />
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Thanks for reading... especially if you made it to the end.Sheila Fishhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02652464751800558347noreply@blogger.com5tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8165189668224619198.post-5482868941200048932012-09-12T07:45:00.000-07:002012-09-12T07:45:07.821-07:00Sometimes it's the little things....and sometimes the little things are huge to some of us.Sometimes it's hard to gauge whether Addy is making progress or not. Maybe it's because I'm with her so much every day, but it can be hard at times to see significant progress. <br />
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But every once in a while something happens in our day that allows me to pause and think about how much this sweet little one is learning. It's encouraging.<br />
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The other day in the tub, Addy and Brylers got lucky and got a super bubbly bubble bath. Addy gathered up some bubbles, looked at me and said, "Look, Mama, I have ice-cream. Yummy!" Then she was pretending to eat her "ice-cream," give herself more, et cetera. <br />
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Random sidenote, why does Addy call me momma? No idea. I've never referred to myself as momma, but that's what she always calls me. <br />
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Anyway, most parents probably wouldn't think twice about their child playing with bubbles and pretending it's ice-cream, but for me it's a big deal. Why? Pretend play. This is not something that comes naturally to Addy and pretty much always has to be initiated by me or whoever is working with her. But this was completely unprompted and all on her own! So a little thing? Maybe. Awesome? You betcha.<br />
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The day didn't end there, however. No, no, no, no. After the girls' bath, Brylee was less than happy to go to bed (to put it VERY mildly). The way she was screaming and throwing her little tantrum, I'm just glad the cops or CPA didn't show up or something. I finally just put them to bed, shut the door, and walked out with Brylee screaming bloody murder at the top of her lungs. Figured I'd give her ten minutes or so to chill out and me ten minutes or so to chill out. And possibly eat something sugary. Don't judge. I just happen to be a stress eater of sorts. At times. Oftentimes. With sugar. It's complicated. <br />
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So I went upstairs and worked on these little skirts for Sunday.<br />
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About ten minutes later and a possibly a half pound heavier I went back downstairs. All was quiet in the realm of the little girls' room, so I opened the door and found Addy sitting on the bed with Brylee giving her tickles on her stomach and face and singing to her. (Just as an aside, the song she was singing was the nice, soothing melody of Bingo, so the tickles had to stop for her to <i>clap</i>-i-n-g-o). But between the tickles and singing, Brylee was totally calm, and it made me so happy to see Addy have love and emotion toward her sister. Now, I don't know how much of this is "learned behavior" (as in she's seen us sing or give the kids tickles enough times that she's mimicking what was seen), but I really don't care. It's progress. And it's wonderful to see her expressing such a positive and loving emotion. <br />
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And, yes, those may be little things, but to me they are a big dealeo. It's the little things that make me so grateful that I'm able to now be home with my kids all the time, that I'm able to focus my energy on helping them achieve their greatest potential, and to have a husband who works so incredibly hard that I'm able to do so.<br />
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Little things. Tender mercies.<br />
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<i>" I believe I have come to better understand that the Lord’s tender mercies are the very personal and individualized blessings, strength, protection, assurances, guidance, loving-kindnesses, consolation, support, and spiritual gifts which we receive from and because of and through the Lord Jesus Christ." - David A. Bednar</i>Sheila Fishhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02652464751800558347noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8165189668224619198.post-2774583516622378312012-08-28T21:29:00.000-07:002012-08-28T21:29:14.684-07:00Tri like a girlThat's the vinyl decal I really want to put on the back of one of our vehicles. The only problem is the hubs and I share cars, and I don't know if he really wants some girly saying on the back of anything he is so masculinely driving. But it represents an accomplishment I'm proud of. <br />
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So I completed my first triathlon. Before you go off calling me crazy and trying to admit me to psychiatric care, let me 'splain. No. There is too much. Let me sum up. I only did a simple SPRINT tri. It is much, much, much, much, much shorter than those crazy Ironmans. Those people really are crazy. The tri that I did was called a sprint tri and consisted of a 300-meter swim, 12-mile bike, and a 3-mile run. So not too bad. But still a good workout that requires training (at least for me).<br />
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So you were hoping I'd describe my experience in nauseatingly vivid and excessive amounts of detail? Well, friend, today is your lucky day. <br />
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This journey begins about four months ago. Don't remember who I was talking to or why the subject came up, but we were talking about triathlons.. or something to do with swimming? We were talking about something and I thought maybe a triathlon is something I could do. So the next day I found one online that was advertised as a non-competitive, supportive-environment type sprint tri. Oh, yes. It was women only as well. Signed myself up and went and joined the rec center since I'd heard it was a good place to swim. It was indeed a good place to swim. Nice non-intimidating environment due to the fact that 93% of the people who swim at the rec center I'd gander are over the age of 62. Helps you feel speedy when you're racing. 'Cept they might not have known we were racing. Details.<br />
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Anywho.. so I spent the next three months (13 weeks, technically) following my training schedule and practicing my running, biking, and swimming skills. My swimming skills improved the most (thanks, at least in part, to the lady swimming next to me one day and couldn't stand the inefficiency of my stroke, so proceeded to give me a good 30-minute one-on-one swimming lesson. Did you know there's such a thing called an s-stroke? You did? Well, um, me too.) I swam my first mile during my training. I had previously deemed this an impossible task, so I like to think of this as an accomplishment.<br />
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So the week before the race and what happens? The kiddos get sick. Bummer, man. Little Boodles as we sometimes call her (or Brylers or Benny boo boo boo boo boo) is running this wicked high fever. 104.8 high. In the middle of the night. Of course. I knew from previous experience that if I rushed her into the ER, they just work on getting her fever down. So I decided to try myself and hopefully not have to wake up Addy to take them on a little 2:00 a.m. field trip. So Boodles got the meds, the AC cranked up in the house, the "chilled" bath, ran around in the nude, the works. She was as cheerful as ever though, so that helped me not worry as much. Called the on-call doc and he said if we could get the fever down to 101 over the course of an hour we probably wouldn't need to take her in. So I worked hard at it and eventually it came down to the 101 range and she fell asleep. And I slept with her. 'Ya know, just in case. <br />
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Took her to the family doc the next day and he said she likely had roseola. Biggest thing was to try to keep her fever down and to watch her closely since some kids can have seizures when they have high fevers. Sheesh. So she spent the next couple days watching Barney with lots of juice and popsicles to keep her hydrated. <div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhu2NE0BCanEjN3vAwCofOxTaUMQIjU-Ae55BBk8i7FoTFN-xHNvHRKVt38xVEWxvDJew6d9rKaUSwVLaTQOu0Og9RaCDtGEpAx_PFho0wJCSFo22geHngPchJSZreWAMg5QNwzNWYT/s1600/2012-08-13+11.35.32.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left:1em; margin-right:1em"><img border="0" height="240" width="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhu2NE0BCanEjN3vAwCofOxTaUMQIjU-Ae55BBk8i7FoTFN-xHNvHRKVt38xVEWxvDJew6d9rKaUSwVLaTQOu0Og9RaCDtGEpAx_PFho0wJCSFo22geHngPchJSZreWAMg5QNwzNWYT/s320/2012-08-13+11.35.32.jpg" /></a></div><br />
Poor kid. Finally Wednesday night/Thursday morning the fever broke. Hallelujah. But needless to say, I didn't exactly get lots of training in that week due to being otherwise occupied. Jackson got home Thursday night and we left Friday afternoon to head down to Salt Lake. Small problem was I woke up on Friday not feeling too hot. My body ached, my stomach hurt, and I just felt crappy overall. But told myself to zip it, put the big girl panties on, and to move on. <br />
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So we drove to Salt Lake and took the kids to the Discovery Gateway, a children's museum. If I lived in the area, I would totally get a season pass. There are so many awesome things in there that are exactly the types of things we work on with Addy and her learning time. They have this huge area that's all about pretend play. There's a fully furnished little house, a construction site, a market, a ranch, a huge garden, a gas station, and a variety of other things. <br />
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They have costumes where the kids can dress up and all of the equipment you would possibly need to be a mom, a grocer, a fireman, a mailman, a farmer.. you get the picture. Pretend play is not something that comes naturally to Addy. Oftentimes she will "organize" toys more than actually play with them, so this was so fun to have so many different things where we could work on pretend play. At the museum they also have several other sections and fun things for kids, but this section was the most popular for us. We easily spent a couple hours there. I wish we could have stayed longer, but I was really not feeling very well and wanted to get to bed sooner than later. <br />
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So after the museum we went and did the packet pickup/body marking where they mark your arms with your number and your leg with your age. This is especially helpful so when you have people pass you, you can notice that they're a mere 13 years old or something (not that that actually happened or anything. whatever. I don't want to talk about it), or if you happen to pass people, you can take note that they're twice your age and you're just struggling by them. It's a good self-esteem booster. <br />
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As you can see, I was number 426, a number that Jackson said was one of his favorites. I thought he was joking, but he said it was the number of some motorcycle or dirt bike or something that he used to race or something. So it was lucky? Or something.<br />
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Anyway, that night was very non-exciting. I managed to swallow about four bites of spaghetti and went to bed praying that I'd feel better in the morning.<br />
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At an early 5:30 I woke up and did feel somewhat betterish. I didn't feel all pins and needly and feverish, so that was great. But my stomach still felt not so great, so that was not so great. We got ready and left at 6:00 a.m., a nice early morning for the two little yahoos. <br />
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The tri was held at the Olympic Training Center, and it was a huge facility. I got my bike and transition area set up while Jackson got the kids dressed. I met up with him again, and then proceeded to spend the next little while, er, emptying my stomach. This was good though, because now on a completely empty stomach, I was feeling much better and felt like I'd at least make it through the race.<br />
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The swimming was held in a 50-meter pool. They did a staggered start and would basically start five people at a time on both sides of the pool. You'd swim down one lane, back on the other side, switch lanes, swim down and back, switch lanes, down and back. Pretty simple. At the packet pickup we were tagged by our speediness of swimming. I was the "intermediate" blue wrist band, meaning I started in about the middle of the pack. <br />
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The girls around me were super nice. I ended up being the leader of our little group of five, so I told them to feel free and pass me since I was the most nervous about swimming. And then the guy came back to our side of the pool, called out 426, go! And I was off. <br />
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After I pushed off the wall, I realized the left side of my goggles weren't sealed all the way and had the pleasure of water rushing in trying to blind me. Blast. Fixed it and kept going. By the time I swam my first 50 meters I was catching up to the last girl on the group on front of me. Through the whole swim I probably passed 10 or so people. That was exciting, especially since my goal in the swim was to not drown. Check. <br />
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So I finished the swim and went to the transition area.<br />
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On a totally unrelated note, I've decided I would not be a very good-looking bald person.<br />
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And I was off for my bike ride.<br />
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And it was great. Even though I didn't have a fancy-smanchy racing bike with super skinny racing wheels. After a few miles I saw this lovely poster they had posted with Ryan Gosling. You know the ones all over Pinterest where they have a nice picture and he says "hey, girl." something, something, something. You know the ones. <br />
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Fine. I will show you. Like these:<br />
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Oftentimes they're comical. And the ones on Pinterest oftentimes have to do with sewing, crafting, pinning, et cetera. Well, THIS particular poster says, "Hey, girl, you got this" with a nice smiley picture. So just take a moment to imagine that. And I turn the corner, and guess what? There's a gargantuan hill. Straight up. I mean, it literally went straight up. For a long time. So it's a good thing Ryan Gosling told me that I've got this or I quite possibly would not have made it. But as luck would have it, I trekked up that mountain and survived. It was a good deal.<br />
<br />
In the meantime the girls and Jackson were having a fun time (or so he tells me) making a cute little sign, playing in the bouncy house they had set up, eating cotton candy, and other various fun activities they had for the families of participants.<br />
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Did I mention that it was an early morning? Usually the kids don't look so... tired. Or something. They also may or may not be wearing the wrong set of clothes. As in the bigger girl is wearing the little girl's clothes and vice versa. No biggie. That's why there are moms in this world.<br />
<br />
So I made it back into the transition area the second time and got going on my run. The run was....well....hard. At least the first part was. Remember how I told you about that huge hill we got to go up biking? Well, the first mile and a half of the run was almost completely uphill. So the same sad little tired muscles that were used on the bike were being used on the run, and they were a little tired. I was not running so speedily. In fact, I probably could have walked faster than I was "running." Oh well. The last part of the run was downhill and you have loads of people cheering and stuff, so the picture that Jackson took makes it look like I was actually running for the run part of the tri. I wasn't. I was a big sissy for 97% of the run, and then the last 3% decided to step it up slightly. <br />
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So I finished. Crossed the finish line. That was my second goal. I didn't drown, and I finished. Check and check.<br />
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I just want to say that I was so glad Jackson was there. It seriously made all the difference in the world. Especially when I was not feeling well and he told me to chill out and everything would be fine. Sure love that handsome fellow.<br />
<br />
My overall time was 1:41:29.6. Good enough for me. The main thing is I can now cross a triathlon off my bucket list. Well, technically, first I'd have to put it on my bucket list. Well, technically, first I'd have to make a bucket list. And then put it on said bucket list. And then cross it off.<br />
<br />
The only thing that ticked me off was after I finished my first triathlon I was fully planning on heading to Dairy Queen, ordering me a LARGE Blizzard, and happily eating it all the way home. BUT since my stomach was not my friend that day, I figured that would not be the greatest of all ideas I've ever had. So instead I spent the drive home eating a bag of Cheerios. The peanut butter kind. So still delicious, but not even close to a Blizzard. I will get that Blizzard though, dang it, and eat it ALL, even if I have to drive 50 miles to do it (which I will, since there is no Dairy Queen in my town. Tragic).<br />
<br />
Overall it was a positive experience. I'd even do it again!<br />
<br />
But not until next year. <br />
<br />
Thanks for reading. Sheila Fishhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02652464751800558347noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8165189668224619198.post-89187460462308918662012-08-08T21:24:00.000-07:002012-08-08T21:24:19.592-07:00BittersweetBittersweet. Reminds me of chocolate.. only that's more semisweet. As in chocolate, chocolate chips. The only chocolate I really ever have in my house. Good thing too, or else I'd probably be packing an extra 20 pounds or so.. <br />
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And, yes, this may have been me on one occasion. Or two. Or more. Whatever.<br />
<br />
I'm writing this post to talk about my (old) job. For the past five and a half years I've been working as a court reporter for one of the local district judges. Seriously, an amazing job. I would show up for court, but then for my transcript time (the majority of my work) I was able to really set my own hours. It rocked. It gave me the flexibility to work (mostly) when my kids were sleeping or when the hubs had them and really gave me the feeling like I was sort of a stay-at-home mom...at least 80% of the time. The job gave my family benefits and a great enough paycheck that my better half could go to school full-time and really only work during the summer to pay for his tuition. Sweet deal.<br />
<br />
There were very few times when I would feel that I really didn't want to go to work. Admittedly, trials weren't (and still aren't) my absolute favorite things in the whole wide world (especially civil ones.. bleh), but it can be interesting to hear a case from beginning to end, get the verdict, and participate in the whole courtroom shebang. Olive it.<br />
<br />
And then I put in my resignation notice.<br />
<br />
<i>Whhhhaaaaaatttttt??????</i> (Feel free to act super surprised here, even if you've already known for the past couple months that I was quitting slash have now officially quit. Exaggerated facial expressions preferred.)<br />
<br />
It's sadly true. It all happened when I realized that, as much as I would love to, <br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEigANIA6oWL3IAEboqRr2oDRYhvfHG1vEnHRNj3yWguKzURQKsgBvQUtdKMF03Kt3Fsaco6OvKa-W83M2A2hMViQouEJ_KI380781V_DUBlFxMY0a1mWYJjVMPQWnbqTWAhm_NAHU1Y/s1600/220px-SuperwomanKW.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left:1em; margin-right:1em"><img border="0" height="289" width="220" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEigANIA6oWL3IAEboqRr2oDRYhvfHG1vEnHRNj3yWguKzURQKsgBvQUtdKMF03Kt3Fsaco6OvKa-W83M2A2hMViQouEJ_KI380781V_DUBlFxMY0a1mWYJjVMPQWnbqTWAhm_NAHU1Y/s320/220px-SuperwomanKW.jpg" /></a></div>I have finally accepted the fact that I'm not superwoman. <br />
<br />
I know you're surprised and was secretly hoping one of your very own friends was the woman behind the mask (does she even normally wear a mask? No idea. She's not on The Avengers) saving the world one day at a time.<br />
<br />
So here's the dealeo: I was feeling a bit like my life was turning into THE CLIFFS OF INSANITY! <br />
<br />
<i>Hurry up! Move that thing! And. . . that other thing! Move it!</i><br />
<br />
Up at 6:00, working like crazy (at my job and the massive influx of transcript I was having ordered), working like crazy (at my faux going back to school learning about all things to do with Addy and her diagnosis), trying to squeeze a workout in here and there (so I didn't have a true psychological breakdown), trying to spend quality time with the kiddos (especially when the hubs was gone), keeping food in the house, bills paid, cleaning when I couldn't stand the messiness or clutter anymore, washing and drying clothes (usually to realize nothing was actually getting put away and consequently we were all starting to look like we belonged on episodes of What Not to Wear), and maybe a few other things thrown in here and there. I'd go to bed between midnight and 2:00 a.m. only to wake up at 6:00 a.m. and still find I was falling behind in every. aspect. of. my life. <i>Enter: Cliffs of Insanity</i> Every. day.<br />
<br />
I was on the verge of an MMM, Major Mommy Meltdown, when it hit me. Like a bucketload of bricks to my head. Quit. I need to quit something. I went over my options: Quit the home stuff (aka laundry, grocery shopping & finances). Sounds peachy but perhaps it would not be so delightful to have the good ole Department of Health and Welfare knocking my door down to come reclaim my starving dirty children. Out. Quit working out. My only source of stress relief, and that just seemed like a bad idea. Quality time with the kids. Out. It came down to keeping my job or giving my daughter the best autism intervention I possibly could. The choice was made. When it comes right down to it, of course I'll be choosing my family over anything.. especially a job.<br />
<br />
So I quit. And I almost cried about four times the day I submitted my resignation. Literally. And here we are. Stay-at-home mom and advocate is my job now. It doesn't pay as well, but the benefits are unquestionably better.<br />
<br />
I'm so grateful though for the things that I've learned working in court. I sure have learned a lot more than how to write fast and what to avoid doing if I were to ever be arrested :) I'm afraid that when I started working in court I was terribly judgmental. The defendants who came into the courtroom I would think of as terrible people making terrible choices. What I've come to realize, however, is how blessed I've been to be raised by parents who taught me right from wrong, who loved and cared about me, what it's like to have positive role models in my life, to not be laden with life-controlling addictions. It's true that most every defendant who comes into that courtroom is there because of a bad choice (or usually a series of bad choices) that they've made throughout their lives. At the same time, most of them have not been raised in the same circumstances I have been, and many have not been taught the same things that I was taught growing up. Who am I to judge? We each have our different devils and weaknesses that we struggle with. Mine happen to not be quite as illegal as others, but I know I sure wouldn't want to trade places.<br />
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On a completely unrelated note, since Addy chopped her hair in lovely random places she is now sporting shoulder-length hair with a nice comb-over of her bangs. But I think it'll be okay. Better than last time at least :)<br />
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Thanks for reading.Sheila Fishhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02652464751800558347noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8165189668224619198.post-62605148601376834242012-07-24T22:39:00.000-07:002012-07-24T22:39:08.408-07:00Don't even be jealousTo start off with may I just say a huge THANKS (it's in all caps, so it's like I'm shouting in your face right now) for all the support I've gotten from so many people and so many sweet comments e-mails, phone calls, Facebook messages, et cetera, et cetera. If you are my friend or my family, you are wonderful. And sweet. And delightful. And hilarious. And just all around terrific (pronounced ter-riffic, not tee-riffic. Unfortunately for me, the kiddos are going through this Barney-loving stage, and I swear if I'm going to have to listen to Barney one more time talk about how something is super-de-duper or tee-riffic, I'm gonna lose it. Or not. He has taught my kids to give me "a great big hug" and "a kiss from me to you"....so perhaps it balances out.) <br />
<br />
Anywayyyyyyy.......sorry I don't always (or ever, really) comment or write back, but I just wanted to say a huge THANK YOU to my wonderful friends and family for your sweetness. You rock.<br />
<br />
So down to the heart-to-heart. For the past couple of years I've been secretly jealous of all of my friends (and hubby) in school. I've even, may I say, dabbled at the idea of going back. Think about it: You go to these classes, learn things, do homework and learn more things.. and you maybe even make a few friends along the way. Also you can improve your skills.<br />
<br />
<i>(Like, what are my skills?<br />
Well, you have a sweet bike. And you're really good at hooking up with chicks. Plus you're, like, the only guy at school who has a mustache.)</i> <br />
<br />
BUT GUESS WHAT? As of late my table more often than not looks like this:<br />
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I know what you're thinking. Jealousy. It's just like I have gone back to school! Textbooks and everything. And, yes, I am excited. And, yes, I've probably talked the ear off of at least 121 of my friends, family members, acquaintances, the hubs, about everything that I'm learning about autism, various treatments, therapies, intervention techniques. The works. Probably bored three-quarters (more like five-sixths?) of you to death with all of this info. Don't fret. You're not alone. There are others out there in your same boat silently thinking - nay, praying - that I would just zip it about all these new terms and acronyms and super exciting bits of knowledge that I now know. But I'll tell you, it feels empowering to be able to learn so much about my daughter and about other people on the spectrum, to be able to see and understand how everyone is so different and how people with ASD (autism spectrum disorder) think and understand things.<br />
<br />
Lastly, I must say that I've recently picked up reading. Not reading transcripts. Reading for fun! Because reading is fun! And, no, this is not a sad attempt to try to promote the BOOK IT! program. It's not. But sweet black licorice, you can see how that's a good reward incentive though for those lucky kids because, let's face it, Pizza Hut personal pan pizza sure is tasty. Random tangent again? True as toast. <br />
<br />
Anyway.. if any of my dearest friends love or like to read and need something new, the two latest ASD novels I've read are: <br />
A Child's Journey out of Autism by Leeann Whiffen. It's about a mom's son who was diagnosed and their journey through an intense intervention program. Pretty good, and a book I could really relate with. <br />
and <br />
The Curious Incident of the Dog in the Night-Time by Mark Haddon. Warning though: The novel by Haddon has a quite a bit of swearing in it. But I found it super interesting. It's written by an autistic man in the first person and how he views the world. I can't believe how different his views and thoughts are from mine.<br />
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So that's probably enough rambling for tonight. I could leave you with a hilarious quote about something or something else, but, frankly, I'm tired, so that won't be happening. Instead I'll laugh to myself about the funny post I saw on Pinterest "Thoreal." I'm still laughing about it. Thanks for reading.Sheila Fishhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02652464751800558347noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8165189668224619198.post-33674361399310256192012-07-01T21:31:00.002-07:002012-07-01T21:54:27.181-07:00A Little Drastic?Perhaps. This will be a short post. <i>(Umm just kidding. I just finished it, and I totally lied. It's not short. Medium to long. Depending on how fast you read.)</i> It's about my relationship with my hair. 74 percent of the people I know will not even care what I have to say here. Feel free to skip to the bottom and just look at the pictures. I will not be offended and/or even know about it. For the rest of my guilt-ridden friends who feel because I've written something, it surely must be worth reading, read on. Too long of an introduction, I know.<br />
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So my view on hair is it's just that.. hair. Can be used as a fun accessory I suppose, but why anyone would pay lots of tens of dollars or hundreds of dollars for a haircut is beyond me. Here's the thing: I find that I tend to get bored with my hair about every three months or so and like to change it up a bit. It's usually a spur of the moment thing. Fine and dandy, unless a bit of crazy hits (like it does every once in a while) and I do something drastic. <br />
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Scenario: I had been growing my hair out for two years. TWO YEARS, people. That is a l-o-n-g time. My hair was super long, and I was rockin' it. If by rockin' it you mean throwing it back into a ponytail or a braid six days a week, then, yes, I was rockin' it. Don't be jealous.<br />
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj-6KSOwi1oM7NCtxeqAGDfqnIjYD9Ye4fisAOmWR_auhINWD_shhmVrKOlf8Hp-pfJMZK_D_WPrIiHUA0Q7y2Xh1Cmc6COZ_syOwpn0f9UuRuh3V1SjziyEYKbXPzYVutMuU7dCo-N/s1600/DSCN1856.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left:1em; margin-right:1em"><img border="0" height="240" width="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj-6KSOwi1oM7NCtxeqAGDfqnIjYD9Ye4fisAOmWR_auhINWD_shhmVrKOlf8Hp-pfJMZK_D_WPrIiHUA0Q7y2Xh1Cmc6COZ_syOwpn0f9UuRuh3V1SjziyEYKbXPzYVutMuU7dCo-N/s320/DSCN1856.JPG" /></a></div><br />
Typical day.<br />
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I was running into a dilemma. Problemo 1. I was (and am) a busy working mom of two kiddos. Oftentimes I find myself doing the single mom thing with a hubby working a lot out of town. That does not leave me oodles and oodles of time for doing my hair. Well, except for Sunday, because I don't have church until 1:00, but, well, I'd rather eat waffles and gear up on energy due to the fact that church is not until 1:00 and I end up outnumbered with super duper cranky kids and trying to wrastle them into staying reverent. (You know how some people pronounce words differently? It's really hard to convey that typing a blog post, so instead I've decided I will intentionally misspell words on occasion in an attempt to have stories read in a more exciting manner.) <br />
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Anywho... Problemo 2. I am currently training for a triathlon and have been trying for weeks to figure out what I'm supposed to do with my hair during said event. Here's the thing. I swim, take my cap off and then my hair looks incredibly awesome all tangled up and matted and I really should do something so it stays off my face for the biking and running portion but do I pack a brush, stop and redo my hair? Not likely. Or do I just leave it all matted and half falling out and just hope I'm speedy enough to outlast the falling all over the place slash in my face situation? Another unlikely scenario. I'm not too speedy.<br />
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The solution: Chop it all off. Thought about it for about a whole 12 hours or so. Then I just did it. Walked into the salon and said chop all my hair off. And she did. Oh, and I colored it too since the chlorine or sun or something was bleaching my hair all weird and looking like I gave my four-year-old the bleach and said, here, just take my hair and do whatever YOU think will look great! Fun huh?<br />
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Before and after. Fine. Warning to all my picture-y friends who love photography and have nice cameras and Photoshop programs and your pictures look all professional and like they're out of a magazine. This is not that kind of blog. I took my point-and-shoot camera and I pointed and shooted (shot, I know, I know). They are not great photos but, hey, at least you get a photo. I could just describe in nauseatingly vivid detail the before and after, but this will probably be more enjoyable. (For you, not me.) <br />
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Without further ado: <br />
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhsb632D7xRll7qA5yRwIOAWjghUGPFjdU-iERw7CzNjdBu3OIOuMMEDA5zsczEcSWAU-9E0janCQxtb2v0nMwjcIr0pnrgTkgLRtUlGoldbdY8XuRF_XuKUGJn4Pz9G7FTPj_FZXq5/s1600/DSCN1837.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left:1em; margin-right:1em"><img border="0" height="240" width="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhsb632D7xRll7qA5yRwIOAWjghUGPFjdU-iERw7CzNjdBu3OIOuMMEDA5zsczEcSWAU-9E0janCQxtb2v0nMwjcIr0pnrgTkgLRtUlGoldbdY8XuRF_XuKUGJn4Pz9G7FTPj_FZXq5/s320/DSCN1837.JPG" /></a></div><br />
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Don't laugh. It's awkward taking photos of yourself. Seriously. Fine, laugh if you want.<br />
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And this is what I look like now. Or what I looked like ten minutes ago, maybe 15.<br />
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Wait for it...........<br />
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Wait for it.......................<br />
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Wait for it......................... (and I surely hope you're saying this in the voice of Shawn Spencer from Psych, although I'm sure none of you are since I think only 2.4 percent of my friends love that show like me. But go back and read it in his voice. You'll thank me later.)..............<br />
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"How to I look?" <br />
"Slightly stunned." <br />
<i>(name that movie)</i> <br />
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhHK-2VmmNXqPkrbQRv1aW7J2a4zQXrwFCa7g7JavE4khYnX1HmWzUVXVLELRH6WW7k1BAOSxHuKsEz9vr6SD1O-09R5XGhgtSDWO38Hpy3knde2YvHewCQt094qxLAiH_ALBmH-qMK/s1600/DSCN2009.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left:1em; margin-right:1em"><img border="0" height="240" width="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhHK-2VmmNXqPkrbQRv1aW7J2a4zQXrwFCa7g7JavE4khYnX1HmWzUVXVLELRH6WW7k1BAOSxHuKsEz9vr6SD1O-09R5XGhgtSDWO38Hpy3knde2YvHewCQt094qxLAiH_ALBmH-qMK/s320/DSCN2009.JPG" /></a></div><br />
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So too drastic? Perhaps. Lame to have a post all about me and my hair? Definitely. Thanks for reading.Sheila Fishhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02652464751800558347noreply@blogger.com8tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8165189668224619198.post-61676599908806845742012-06-27T21:09:00.001-07:002012-06-27T21:09:06.619-07:00The BeginningLet's be honest here. I'm going through some HUGE life changes, and I'm probably more stressed now than I ever have been in my entire life. Being honest, I probably am not dealing with the stress all that well...unless you count "dealing with it" consisting of me being fine until I just up and snap one day and become an emotional train wreck wanting to punch things or cry my eyeballs out or eat a gallon of ice-cream...or possibly all three. At once. Don't judge. I don't consider those behaviors necessarily positive. So I'm on the search for some good outlets to avoid the train crash. I've heard that writing is therapeutic, so I wrote in my journal for the first time in years. I did find it to be helpful for sorting out my thoughts and the like, but, being honest here (there's a lot of honesty in this post), it took me for.ev.er. And I hated it. Because it took centuries. Or at least an hour. <br />
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I have been working as a court reporter for the last five plus years, was in court reporting school before that, and, let's face it, I am accustomed to writing things quickly. Maybe too quickly. I-think-it-and-it's-written quickly. 250-300 words per minute type quick writing. You get the picture. This is soooo not the case with journaling. It is s-l-o-w slow. It takes time.<br />
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I have officially come to a compromise wherein I've decided to start a blog. Now, I can be the only one reading this blog, and I really don't care. It's a place for me. I also have decided to keep the blog open for others to read, because I've found that it can be helpful to read about people's experiences (especially when you're going through similar situations) and find out what has worked for them and what hasn't. It also helps the world be not such a lonely place, in my opinion. Clear as mud? Fab. I'm also really hoping to keep this blog "real," but I sure don't want it to be a downer. For those who know me, I think I'm generally a pretty positive and/or happy person (or try to be at least), and so I'd like my writing to reflect that. I'm also having some challenges right now, and I want my writing to reflect the real emotions involved.<br />
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So with that overly long-winded introduction, what in the universe has gotten me worked up enough to start a blog when I should be working on appeal transcripts for people who don't like sitting in prison? Let's start with this little cutie.<br />
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My first born child -- the apple of my eye, Mommy's little girl, Daddy's princess, all of those mushy sayings that come on cute pink baby onesies -- has been diagnosed with autism. Some background here: This wasn't something completely out of the blue. It was something that I had been concerned about - probably for over a year. Addy started showing "classic" signs by age 2 1/2. By age 3 I was definitely concerned. I got her in speech therapy, got her into the early intervention preschool, talked to different professionals about whether I should get her tested but was reassured (maybe?) that testing her "wouldn't do much good," that we should "wait and see," yada, yada, yada. But in my gut I knew, I just knew that something wasn't right. Something wasn't clicking for her. I'd see those commercials for autism awareness, and they would scare me to death. Probably because I knew there was something going on. But it's hard to admit. I'll be the first to admit that it's hard to admit (say that ten times fast). It's hard to think that there might really be something wrong with your baby. (though <i>technically</i> at that time she wasn't really the baby anymore since Brylee had been born, but you get the point. Too much technicality? Yeah, I thought so too.)<br />
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Thankfully, when Addy was about five months shy of her 4th birthday, I ran into a friend who has a daughter with autism. She encouraged me to get an independent evaluation. So glad I talked to her. I got an evaluation done, and now I am so thankful. At three years and ten months of age Addy was officially diagnosed with PDD-NOS, an autism spectrum disorder. You can read about PDD-NOS here: http://www.autismspeaks.org/what-autism/pdd-nos (sorry, don't know how to link yet), but to summarize, it basically means that she has significant social and language deficiencies and has all the signs of "classic autism" minus the repetitive movements (i.e. hand flapping, rocking, toe-walking, etc.) We're all on the same page here? Yes(ish)? Good. <br />
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Here's the interesting thing to me though: Although I had suspected something (maybe even autism) for over a year, I am still surprised at how hard it was for me to sit there in the psychologist's office and have her tell us about our daughter's diagnosis. Cried like a baby I did. It's a good thing they have lots of tissues in that office, because I'm fairly sure I owe her $0.84 or so for a half a box of Kleenex. The hubs probably thought I was nuts. Or over-emotional. Or pregnant. Unfortunately, I was none of the above. But as difficult as it was for me to sit in there and hear about potential limitations and struggles that my little girl has or may have in the future, I think it was an important step for me being able to accept what the reality of our situation was. The life-changing reality. I realized that I needed to accept this diagnosis so that I could move from being a grieving parent to being a top supporter and advocate for my sweetheart. <br />
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In short, this blog is about our family's journey through autism. It's about our struggles and successes. It's about the things we've learned, the therapies and treatment we've tried (and are trying). Most importantly it's about family (our family, specifically), our hopes, our accomplishments, our goals, and our journey to becoming our best selves. I agree whole-heartedly with the quote by Albert Einstein reserved at the top of my blog: "Everybody is a genius. But if you judge a fish by its ability to climb a tree, it will live its whole life believing that it is stupid." Thanks for reading.<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiNgasREBr81srzth7JUvu3ZqwmhsU7BHrmJ_KOLkQnGwZzgQsZm08WsGeTlXiDoAHG4ZtsicjNhat_Z6B5uYmiuh5NSjZLUFymhCMFrNg5u5RAbTH-ntHS4CATdjXxusLS-r6hOtL1/s1600/DSC_5199.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left:1em; margin-right:1em"><img border="0" height="213" width="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiNgasREBr81srzth7JUvu3ZqwmhsU7BHrmJ_KOLkQnGwZzgQsZm08WsGeTlXiDoAHG4ZtsicjNhat_Z6B5uYmiuh5NSjZLUFymhCMFrNg5u5RAbTH-ntHS4CATdjXxusLS-r6hOtL1/s320/DSC_5199.JPG" /></a></div>Sheila Fishhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02652464751800558347noreply@blogger.com3